#okay only the first five tags show up in the searched tags so.. now i'm safe to tag this

[thesilvertheorist]

• nsfw drabble - first time •

REQUEST: anon asked -

"five hargreeves first time hc/drabbles? 🥹"

warnings/tags: mdni (this is a smut drabble!), five's body and mind are 18+ here (don't be creepy), virgin!five, fivexfem!reader (lmk if people want a masc!reader ver.), PiV sex, unprotected sex (do as I say and not as I write - use protection!)

Masterlist

enjoy?? teehee - i'm open to doing another version of this, more like a fic, hmu for details

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okay so, five is obviously VERY timid when it comes to romance and intimacy on all levels... he just doesn't know what to do, like at all. he's just so clueless. he's spent years working for the commission, visiting sleazy places just to kill people who obstructed the timeline corrections. he never really knew what to make of knowing people were 'boning'. he usually gets utterly disgusted by the thought of sex - not realising that he just didn't understand what it meant if it were to happen with a partner he actually trusted to look after him...a partner he trusted to treat the delicate parts of him with care...to treat his soul with care. so when you came into his life, and your relationship began to progress, he was pleasantly surprised that the thought of sex no longer disgusted him - but ONLY if his thoughts were focused on having sex with you. he's uninterested in other people at the best of times - its obvious he's a devoted partner in all aspects.

the two of you would have had conversations about sex before, elaborating more about when it felt like the right time and when you would feel comfortable taking that extra step. five is meticulous about everything, he ensures to never overstep a single boundary of yours, not even once; just as you'd never overstep one of his. he is so deeply emotional about the fact that you treat him with respect and listen to what he's telling you. he shows that respect back a trillion times over. this, however, does not mitigate the natural progression of a human relationship. you two have hormones and urges which need answering.

the two of you will be sharing an emotionally intimate moment, holding each other and relishing in the comfort that the other brings. you'll feel five relax underneath your touch and really let that harsh outer persona drop. you bring him in for a kiss, a loving one, one that expresses deep feelings of devotion and adoration. over the course of your relationship with five, he's learned so much about how to love up on you. his once inexperienced kisses are now exactly what you need from him. his once tentatively shy hands are now planted firmly on your waist, funning themselves over your hips and up into your hair. five never really thought he'd need more than this from you...but something in him has shifted and today - he needs it.

you'd urge five to get comfortable, knowing that this is going to be much better unrushed and truly appreciated. he'd lay next to you, feeling you pull him back in for another kiss, and then another one...and another. this moment would progress until you're both left gasping for air. you'd both just explore each other with an overwhelming feeling of love, almost tearjerkingly. you'd touch him as if he were made of glass - as if he'd shatter beneath you, because he feels like he just might. every touch you give him sends shivers up his spine and blood away from his brain. he's so delicate. you'd break apart from him to caress his face, fix his hair, and lock his gaze. whilst looking at him you'd see everything he is: insecurity, obscurity, and immense bravery. he'd searching your eyes for what comes next. as he's so friggin out of his depth when it comes to anything physical...or emotional for that matter. you'd assure him that he's safe with you, peppering kisses on his face as you whisper your affirming sweet nothings over to him, feeling him begin to relax again.

five would have no idea what's next. obviously he knows the basic principles of sexual interaction...but never had he put thought into the logistics. before he could spite himself at the gross oversight, you'd interrupt his train (wreck) of thought by asking him if he wanted to keep going. he'd be completely taken aback by your question - so confused by it. had he made you feel like he didn't want to continue?? you'd see the panic start to set in and reassure him that you're asking for his sake and not yours, affirming to him that he has the option to say no. and that'd be when you clocked them...tears. five wouldn't be able to stop them, hell he wouldn't even know they were happening. he would just be so damn emotional about someone actually (wholeheartedly) giving a shit about him - enough so to give him the option to say no [five does not realise that this is the bare minimum as he's never felt love...okay carrying on], enough to ask him how HE felt.

he'd basically fall to pieces into your arms and babble endlessly about his love for you and how he wants to take this step with you - and only you. he'd want you to take care of him. you'd take his hand in yours as you began to trace down his body, removing clothing as you went, five slipping back into his shy little shell that he knows all too well. i feel like he'd need you to watch him intently to pull him back out when this happened - showering him with kisses on the places on his body he doesn't like (which is basically everywhere because he has immense dysmorphia). he'd return the favour for you, removing your clothes and instead covering you in his words of devotion and love. that's when you'd notice his inexperience come back to him. he'd have no idea on where to touch you - no clue on how to make you feel good... but you'd take his hand and (quite literally) show him.

you'd lead his hands to where you felt best - feeling his hands brush against your breasts to feel across your nipples (his mouth would water at how soft you felt and how delectable you were), you'd lead him down to your core, giving him access to your wet heat. he'd lose it when he touched you there, dropping his face into the crevice of your neck. the feeling of your slick, the warmth of your cunt...it would all overcome him and he'd endlessly run his fingers up and down your folds, committing the sensation to memory whilst also losing his brain entirely. this is where he'd need you to step in, to take the lead for this one. he's so used to having to be in complete control all the time...he'd need you to control this for him - to tell him how this is meant to go - to make sure he knew he didn't need to think through this...to let him be authentically himself.

i feel like he'd want you to cover him, he'd be on the bottom whilst you made yourself comfortable on top of him, making sure to drown him in affection as you both adjusted to the feeling of being like this with each other. five would be putty in your hands, letting you love him wherever you needed to, whenever you needed to. he'd gasp when you took his cock into your hands, stroking it gently, milking the precum from him. he'd curse his body for the eagerness of his reaction - feeling as though he may end this before he'd even got chance to start it. he'd want this to last for as long as humanly possible... he'd whine out incoherent whines of desperation as you swipe his tip across your folds, gathering letting your wetness drip down him, preparing him to enter you. he'd throw his head back when you would tease his tip at your entrance, circling it, threatening to enter and then pulling away. he'd grab at you, needing to ground himself from being sent sky high with the blood rushing through his veins.

you'd look him in the eyes as you took his hand in your own, finally allowing his tip to enter you. and he would fall to fucking pieces. he'd not break your gaze for a single second, but his mouth would be slack-jawed and he'd have no words - the only sound coming out of him would be a silent scream of pleasure at the feeling of you encasing him. you'd slide onto him slowly, letting both you and him adjust to the sensation of being joined in the closest place imaginable. once fully seated, you'd allow five to break your gaze and his head would loll back, falling limp as his breath hitched and his cock twitched inside you. you'd had an inkling that this meant that he wouldn't last long. hell, he'd have been holding it for ages already, forcing himself to hang on for this specific moment, a moment that pleased you both...a moment that pleased you.

you'd rise up slowly and feel him panic when he thinks his dick is about to fall out of you, seeing the terror in his eyes as his head snapped back up - relieved and yet astounded when you'd drop your hips back down and take him back into your cunt again. you'd see his eyebrows crease and his eyes screw shut, notice how his ribs flare and his his breath would hitch with every movement you'd make. you decide to let him feel it, to lead him through it, to let him finish.

[five beneath you, quivering with pleasure] "hhaaaah, don- don't know if i can-" "okay, five, it's okay. i've got you," you'd assure to him once again, squeezing his hand that you'd been holding since before he entered you, "it's okay, baby, let go. let it go for me, i've got you" he'd connect your lips in an urgently wet kiss, needing to feel as much of you as possible and show his love for you, breaking it only to gasp and whimper as he felt the coil inside him snap. "oh god- i love you, i love you so fucking much, can't stop, oh-" "i love you too, five... let it go for me, that's it-" you'd speak out as you felt your own pleasure rise and snap along with him, mixing your love together in the deepest part of you.

you wouldn't stop moving against him, only slowing your pace so he'd have chance to come back to his senses. he'd never want to leave you. you'd feel his cock soften slowly inside you and you'd stop moving altogether, resting against him, tangling your free hand in his sweaty hair. he'd whisper endlessly about his love for you, relishing in the fact that you - the person he adored most in the world - had just made him feel nothing short of fucking euphoric.

he'd be utterly offended when you lifted yourself up off him, attempting to summon the strength to keep you there but his muscles would certainly betray him and he'd pout about it, blood coming back up to his brain and reinstating his usual arsey attitude. he still wouldn't object to you pulling him into a close cuddle whilst you brought him back to reality. he'd wonder if he did well for you, feeling like he may have disappointed you until you'd whisper to him about how good of a job he did, laughing slightly about how he's certainly a quick study. you'd feel him release a content sigh before dropping to sleep in your arms, feeling safe, feeling loved, feeling wanted. oh and he'd definitely be all over you the next day, wanting to shower you with affection, feeling closer to you than ever before.

[strawberry-nugget]

Pairing: Kirishima Eijiro x Reader

~You swore you were done with Eijiro Kirishima when he shattered your heart and left you to pick up the pieces. At Mina’s birthday party, her and Ochaco are desperately trying to get you to avoid him. This is what happens when both of you you let your feelings linger though; you find each other no matter what. And, not surprisingly, you both give in.

Tags // Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, smut, unprotected sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering, kitchen sex, shower sex, dr*g use (reader and Kirishima smoke together), alcohol, slight angst througout, Ex!Kirishima, dacryphilia

All CHARACTERS ARE 20+

Word Count: 25.5k

One last look at the screen of your phone is all it takes before you decide to tap that dreadful post button. 

It’s an itch you can't scratch, the nervousness you feel now that you’re posting on your story with only one person in mind, but you tell yourself it's only partially because of him.

Kirishima is the type of person that needs to be punched into next year and certainly not to have someone post a hot story for him on instagram. You indulge, first and foremost, only because the thrill of being able to tell your friends you got him back is exciting.

Definitely not for any other reason.

There's incoherent screaming from the girls all over their apartment and the sound of blow dryer eventually comes to a halt when Mina marches in the bathroom, angry about the time her phone screen displays.

“Just tell me you'll be ready soon”

“I’ll be ready in five” 

Mina curses under her breath at Ochako’s response. 

Tonight is her party, after all, and she's at least an hour late so by now it really doesn't matter that she's having it at Sero’s place; it's much bigger than the apartment she shares with Ochako, much bigger than yours and it has a rooftop. Who wouldn't want to host their or any party there? 

“Ugh whatever, what. Ever.” She shakes her head, bopping her pink ponytail from left to right. “How much time ‘till you're ready?”

You eye her, lip gloss in hand, frenzied about the lipliner you're sure you did not just lose in this mess of a sink you've created, searching left and right, bumping into everything in your way.

“Girl, how can you post a fucking story on instagram when you’re not ready?”

“Uhm”

“No okay,” she shakes her head again, silently rejecting her nerves, truthfully promising herself that she's trying to stay positive “uhm, what shoes are you wearing?”

You glance at her, before Ochako manages to slip once more into the bathroom as well, crowding the space just enough so that you feel pressured to answer both her questions. Chest heaving and breasts almost slipping out of the front of your dress, you open your mouth, words ready to bubble out, when Ochako asks you to move enough so that she can put on her own lipstick.

“Uhm.. heels?” you gulp. “And I'm ready, I just.. I can't go there without that lipliner and you know that.”

Mina stares at your feet and you're so sure she's going to make a comment any second now. Yet ever so sweetly, she opens her lips with a response so peculiar that she doesn’t ever let out. She presses them together instead like she never flapped them open to speak, eyes fluttering close for a second that's enough to make your heart want to jump out of your chest.

Is she on to you? What does she know that you don't want her to know?

“Sero has been calling nonstop. That's all.” she sighs. “We’re supposed to be throwing my party and I'm late. I hate to be late.”

“I know,” You mouth it quietly. Carefully. Even if it's Ochako’s fault for running late to show up, you feel guilty. Even more so that your secret goal of the night is to get back at -or with- Kirishima. 

“So please just get ready, you can post to your heart's content when we’re there. ‘Chako, you too baby girl.”

“Nah, I don't need to post anything tonight, Izuku will be the first to see me either way since he’s picking us up!”

Damn you’d actually be happy too if you could say that so casually. But Ochako and Izuku have been dating since high school, so they’re not flaunting anything—other than the fact that she’s crazy and head over heels in love with her man since her teens. Mina has been perfectly adjusted to her beloved city girl life. Wanted by everyone, touched by none. She doesn’t need to be in love to have a good time, unlike you. And in a way, you're too jealous of both. 

In a nice way nonetheless. 

“I did like your story. I'm sorry I keep mentioning it like that. You look hot.” Your friend smiles at you as she's fixing her ponytail in the mirror next to Ochako. 

You go to thank her, as you see her feel just a bit of guilt, past Ochako and the perfume that she’s spraying, when your phone goes off and your screen lights up with the first notification of the night since you posted. Both your eyes and hers land on the notification, as your phone lay in front of her on the sink. 

You feel amber orbs are on you, horrified, perfectly overdrawn lips pursing in agony. You try to mouth something like ‘sorry’ to her, but your excitement is too hard to hide.

How do you explain to your best friend that the man who dumped you over someone else, asked you for space and had you bedridden for like a month with all your crying, the man you blocked on all socials and whose phone number you deleted—the man you swore on your life you wouldn't take back even if he came crawling, whom you were supposed to avoid at all costs tonight, just reacted a fire emoji to your story? 

“Oh my god.” She speaks, too quietly for your own sanity. She's fuming. “You don’t actually want to come to my party. You want to meet the founding father.”

Ochako turns her head and cocks an eyebrow.

That horrible, heavy feeling is back in your chest again. They're so going to kill you. Your friends are actually going to murder you. 

Over still being head over heels and absolutely down for Kirishima that is.

“Oh you mean this lipliner, i just found it,” Ochako shoves the lipliner in your face and Mina instantly gets the chance to snatch your phone. You latch onto her immediately “What founding father are we meeting… When did we decide to go to church?”

Both you and Mina look at Ochako and shake your heads, still fighting over your phone.

“Please, Mina listen,” you cry out, trying to get a grip at your phone. “He's the one. I'm telling you–”

“Kirishima?” Mina scoffs, "Are you insanely delusional? After all that’s happened?”

“Wait, who's the one? God’s the one?”

“Chako what the actual fuck! Lock in please. Kirishima just messaged her!”

Ochako yelps your name. “Oh my god. No!” Mina shakes her head, simply to agree with her and you pout, almost -almost- embarrassed that they found out. They've done their absolute best to keep you away from Kirishima, from hangouts to parties, they've been splitting the group for months to keep the two of you away and up until now they've been very successful. 

But definitely not successful enough so that you don't find out Kirishima has broken up with his girlfriend. They've tried to be slick. They've tried to keep it a secret kept away, so very well and so far away from you, but you inevitably overhear it—Mina doesn't know how to work on her apartment's new intercom yet, and you have good ears, when you want to. 

All their efforts to keep any information about Kirishima’s break up go to the deepest level of hell, on vacation, and they take you with them because when you hear it slip out their mouths your heart skips so many beats that you think you're actually dying. 

You unblock him on Instagram. You make your profile public. You manage to post a story the next time you meet with your shared friends and tag them and they all repost it. And Kirishima adds you again. 

You haven't thought of even mentioning it to your friends because you're supposed to never, ever take him back, but it ultimately comes down to tonight. Your phone in Mina's palms. 

She's probably going to shove it down your throat. 

Instead of actually fleeting to the most brutal and criminal action one can come up with though, Mina hands you your phone, sighing. Her fingers linger on the back of your hand. 

“We'll keep you away from him. Promise. ‘Chako we have a mission”

“You have no actual mission. I'm a big girl. I can take responsibility.” you say, and Mina almost holds back her laughter. 

“Honey the responsibility shouldn't be having to apologize for sleeping with him, but rather it should be avoiding him. You won't do that. So me and Ochako are going to do it for you.”

As. If

You pucker your lips when Ochako nods, happily. The next ten minutes are spent on wearing shoes and running down the stairs from the third floor in heels. Mina forgets to lock and curses under her breath as she reaches for her keys and runs back up. 

Ochako settles in the passenger’s seat of Izuku’s car and you settle right behind her, strapping yourself with the safety belt while greeting an Izuku who already has a mouth stuffed with his girlfriend's tongue. He greets back, politely, slightly flushed; his hands haven’t even left the steering wheel but Ochako’s are palming his cheeks.

Mind you, she practically lives with him. 

Before you even have the chance to cringe, or have a whole back arching shiver run through your whole body, Mina slams herself right next to you and her door follows asuit. Izuku complains with a muffled “Please, slower.”

“Oops, im sorry”

Sero’s house is a 15 minute drive from Mina’s and for the first 5 minutes of it, the atmosphere in the car is unbearable. Mina is frantically typing on her phone and thanks to her privacy screen you can't peek -not that you’re not sure what's going on- and Ochako is fixed on holding Izuku’s thigh while his muscles flex everytime he presses the gas to his car. You’re too scared of Mina’s murderous face, so you keep staring at her, back and forth, while trying to get your mind off how nervous you are.

Your thoughts of being salvaged are cut short at the next red light. Izuku’s hands on the steering wheel flex, thumbs only holding onto the leather cover for a second and he eyes you through the mirror.

Uh, oh.

“So.. Kirishima, huh? You haven't seen him in a whil-”

Mina is quicker than his mouth, his words, even his feet when he steps on the gas again and the light that turns green. You simply flinch when you somehow find yourself with muffled ears, eyes wide, hearing almost impaled apart from the fact that you can hear her screech. 

“Oh my god! NO! Kirishima does not exist to her. Absolutely not, she's not seeing him!”

“Mina calm the fuck down!” you yell, ripping her hands off your ears while Ochako purses her lips together awkwardly to stare at Izuku.

“Izuku baby, he messaged her”

He stares and stares and stares, with wide eyes and mouth open wide enough or a fly to crawl in. And then he blinks like he’s never blinked again. Rapidly.

“Girl you invited him.” you say, mimicking Ochako’s awkward smile, lips pressed together in a thin line. 

Your friend doesn't respond, she too blinks like it's her first time blinking and you feel that awful feeling that Kirishima is to you and your close friend group as it creeps up to your chest. It bubbles and boils like tea in an electric kettle, it messes up your stomach so much that the one shot that you and Ochako had before leaving is about to leap up your throat like it needs to jump off a cliff. 

But it’s not like you said something out of lane. What you said was more than justified, because you don’t understand why everyone still hangs out with Kirishima after how he treated you —you do; he’s an amazing friend, truly— but you've long come to accept that you would eventually have to show up to parties you were both invited to.

There’s not a second in which you think that Mina didn’t actually want you to come to her party and only invited you out of sheer pity, just so you wouldn't get mad at her for leaving you out of it.

She loves all her friends and wouldn't discriminate, you tell yourself, but in this case had she really been serious about you avoiding him, she could have skipped inviting Kirishima.

Nonetheless, by the time Izuku parks his car outside of Sero’s house, Mina is looking at you only with kindness. Izuku mentions something about Bakugo cooking to the three of you and Mina assures him she’s going to thank him first things first.

You hesitate as you step out of the car; the hot night air brushing against your skin raises peculiar goosebumps and your nervousness is through the roof. Mina loops an arm around your shoulders, her grip firm. Just enough to remind you she’s not letting you out of her sight. Ochako bounds ahead with Izuku, hand-in-hand and all bubbly, and you're sure they're off for her boyfriend to manage to greet Bakugou first, leaving you alone with Mina’s quiet resolve.

“This is going to be fine,” she murmurs. It’s almost convincing. “you’ll ignore each other and it’ll pass in no time”

You just wish you had her certainty. Instead, your phone burns in your hand like a live wire, and despite yourself, you unlock it and open Instagram for the upteenth time tonight. Kirishima’s notification still oozes in anger, like he’s mocking your very own resolve to momentarily act indifferent towards it. You lock your phone as fast as you open it and Mina has never been happier about an action of yours tonight so far.

“Do not let him ruin this for you,” she says firmly “Tonight is about me, not you thirsting over bad decisions.” and then she laughs, like it's the only thing she could actually do after such a sentence. 

“Thirsting is a strong word,” you mutter, but it’s too late. Mina’s already dragging you toward the front door, where the bass from the party’s music thuds so loudly you can feel it in your chest. “It's more like, i really, really love him”

She laughs again, not wide eyed, but out of sheer embarrassment for you. She shall not get angry at you just yet. Perhaps it's just your pregame speaking. For the annoyance and disgust for those feelings you just uttered for the world to hear and hold are too much, too unnecessary.

The moment you step outside, the energy of the party hits you like a wave —music blasting, bodies moving, laughter ringing out from every corner. Sero’s place is lit up in string lights and cheap party decorations, a mix of chaotic vibes and casual elegance that only he could pull off. You wonder if he decorated the place with only his own personal preferences or if Mina actually had anything to do with it, since it’s her birthday party after all.

It seems like everyone is immediately stuck on her like glue, pushing different sizes of bags into her hands while hugging her. You greet everyone you can lay an eye on, politely, like your typical best friend at a birthday party. It's just too fortunate you know most people in here, it’d be an awkward pain in the ass if you didn’t, especially with how everyone is trying to get as much of Mina as they can.

It’s soothing to see that she’s so loved.

“Hey, you made it!” Sero Screams over the music, a red solo cup in hand and a broad grin on his face, grabbing both you and Mina by the waist—god, that mustache he grew has him thinking he’s smoother than water. “Looking sharp as always.”

Mina kisses both his cheeks while he plays with her ponytail and you notice a strange tension in the air that you don’t want to admit. She looks like she was just swept by his waterfall.

In turn, you muster a smile as you hurriedly look for Ochako in the crowd, hoping it’s enough to mask your nerves. “Thanks”

Mina asks him where Bakugo is by whispering it in his ear and covering her mouth with her hand, yet Sero is neither smart nor sober or subtle enough to do such a thing as she does, so he points at the blond with his finger.

“Thats rude, don’t point at him”

“Huh?”

“Ugh whatever” She sighs and fortunately the tension between her and the ravenette spreads thin, slowly. “You! Stay put with Sero”

You swallow hard as your sweaty hand is momentarily left to your own premises, empty of hers, as she’s off to find Bakugo too, just like she announces and you're left alone with Sero, scared to even look at the direction that she’s heading towards. But only while she turns to look back to check you. 

He who shall not be named, is right next to his blond friend. Your stomach flips. He looks good —extraordinary good, with his red hair, that white fitted t-shirt and that stupidly charming grin that’s burned into your memory. He’s looking like you couldn't get enough of him even if you had a mouthful. These thoughts are, though, forbidden. So you avoid even batting an eye at him. It’s infuriating how easy he makes it look, existing in the corner of a rooftop that you are also on, at your best friend’s party, so casually. 

Sero, who’s obviously noticed the trail of drool running down your mouth at the red head's sight, leans in conspiratorially, lowering his voice to speak to your ear. “Heads up. He was asking about you.”

Note to self. Avoid Sero for the rest of the night! 

Before you can spiral further, Mina reappears, slipping a drink into your hand. You smell it subtly, recognizing the scent as cognac. “Sero, leave her alone. She doesn’t need your running commentary.”

Nonetheless the topic of conversation is changed faster than light, and you share a laugh or two with Sero, you grab another drink, then Mina wants you to help her with putting away her gifts, then you're off to grab another drink.

Bad idea?

No, not really.

Not when your third drink is going to be just beer. You absolutely will not get drunk this way because in your case, beer should be considered a chaser for the two drinks of cognac you had. 

So, you don't even trip on your way to the makeshift bar. 

On the other edge of the table that serves as a bar, Kirishima and Bakugo are hot on a conversation and you edge closer when you notice the redhead looking at you, ever so aware of your presence. 

Bakugo greets you, Kirishima doesn’t, so you greet Bakugo back before he somehow, immediately disappears into the bunch of the people that are at Sero’s rooftop. Typical. The two of them have this uncanny, wordless way of communicating, and it’s more than likely that this sudden departure is part of some unspoken plan. 

You try not to care, shake it off, try to focus on your drink, but your head buzzes too loud, whether it's because you're so close to Kirishima for the first time tonight or the cognac, you don't even know. 

When you turn to look at Kirishima again, he's not at the spot he was seconds ago and assuming he's gone like his friend, you sigh in relief, for that was so close. So narrowly avoided.

Just when you feel like you can get your drink and run towards Ochako, life slips away from your poor body. It's him, closing in, muttering something. To you? Yes, to you and god you can’t hear him over the music or the sound of your heart palpitating and spilling all your stress to block your eardrums. 

You're sure you look like an absolute clown —this isn't even a Halloween party thus it's so not justified, your clownery is woefully out of place— with your wide eyes and pursed lips. Hadn’t you baked your lip liner you're sure with all the pursing you’re doing you could actually be able to look worse. Oh great. Now he's towering over you, he’s just so close that you can't ignore him anymore even if you want to. 

You’ll have to be forced to speak to him. And you shouldn’t have worn these heels because your knees are wobbly -jello even- and your breath is short. On top of that your head is ringing and that really sharp pain under your left breast is trying to poke right through your dress like a blade. Perhaps this is what a stroke feels like. Or, or, a heart attack. 

You shouldn't be feeling like this. You should be thinking of all the times you’ve cried over him, the times you’ve laid on the floor of your bathroom asking yourself what you did so wrong in telling him you love him that he never said it back. You just shouldn’t be thinking that he looks fucking good, while he’s looking at you like you’re his pray.

Maybe Mina should have killed you in her bathroom, or in the car. So you wouldn’t be anticipating every step that led Kirishima to you in this very instant.

“Bakugo made the canapes so you should-”

Kirishima’s hands are almost hovering above your naked waist, you’re almost a puddle and the world is seconds away from disappearing underneath your feet when Mina stomps in between you. She hip bumps him away with a gracious sway and a devious smile.

“Excuuuuuse me” She laughs, you giggle too, while being dragged away from him. 

One breath in and one out eventually make your heartbeat normal. Even while stalling soundly after your friend, your feet are dragging like dead weight.

You will be just fine; Mina will not leave your side, even when you try to slip away. For how dare he approach you without a warning on casual intentions. How could he not even inform you that you're at the basis where you ignore the last few events that have occurred between you? 

At least Mina has some common sense when looking out for you. 

You look at her and she looks back at you and she’s got that disappointed motherly facade that's painted on her features that you can’t bring yourself to like. 

Come to think of it, whether you had or hadn’t wished she could come to your saving there’s a coil spinning ever so slightly in the pit of your stomach about it— it’s fixed by her expression right now. You can't even begin to describe the feeling inside you, can’t still place it in the rage of emotions you recognise. But you're willing to let it simmer to a simple boil in the pits of your stomach for now. Tuck it away until you find a word to title it with. 

A chit-chat with someone else, a smoke with Sero and a swirl on the side of the rooftop that everyone uses to dance and Mina corners you on the edge of the railing between Izuku and Ochako before disappearing into the crowd. Beer in one hand and Ochako clasped in the other you dance awkwardly to a pop song that she knows all the lyrics to. Mina still looks sour, maybe a little less than before though. 

She whispers something to Ochako and you know who it is about, without even having to guess. A thoughtless, drunk mind such as yours right now can only be occupied by facts such as the one before your eyes. The one being whispered about you amongst your friends and another fact that is standing a few feet away from you. 

Desperate eyes fall on desperate ones and you share a look with Kirishima -all you can do apparently- that Ochako doesn’t notice, though she's turned in your direction, as she closes her eyelids and shoots her hands in the air to dance, draggin your poor hand with her. 

This is a plea to dance, but you stand motionless like a wooden pencil. Balanced. You’re not going to dance when Kirishima watches you, because you don’t quite enjoy looking ridiculous in front of him. 

Your stomach takes another twist when you sip some more of your beer. 

He shoots you a silly expression, one you’re accustomed to, one you’ve seen so many times. Averting your eyes, refusing to ruin your mood further, you’re back to your setting; Ochako, Izuku and a Mina that’s back with shots that she obviously shouldn’t have carried on her own, because they’re spilling everywhere. You don't know when she left to go get them, but a glass is shoved in your hands hurriedly. 

You down it and your hands are sticky. 

It’s so hot outside that your skin feels heavy, your dress is sticking to you in the most overstimulating places on your skin.

You find Kirishima watching you when you comply with the itch in your chest to just check on him again and your stomach is doing flips about it—coils that were previously burning in it be damned and all. He’s. Watching. You.

You wonder if it’s just the alcohol, the summer weather, or if you’re genuinely burning alive under Kirishima’s gaze. 

It's almost unbearable, really, that he’s close enough to breathe the same air as you, and yet here you are, locked in this tug-of-war with your own impulses. Fight or flight, or just stand there, paralyzed, pretending you have better things to do with your friends than simply admire the way his stupidly perfect jawline catches the light. It has to look like you’re having fun.

If only you could manage to slip away from your friends, bent on this newly found desire within you to properly greet him. 

You want to play in the scenario of ignoring everything that's happened so far just to fake being kind to him. The shot you had isn't helping at having any clear thoughts at all. 

A good excuse to leave on your own would be to ask for more shots, but you doubt that three people would go fetch them, they'd either take you with them or they would just send the less drunk right now to do so. In this case, Izuku. Which leaves you with two people sworn to keep you away from your red headed target. 

It seems like every plan you come up with sounds absolutely useless before this cerberus that your friends have formed into, transforming your gaze into a deeper level of despair with every thought you throw away from your brain. 

Mina will absolutely not let you leave on your own, unless, if it's to see someone else. You try to think fast, past the buzz inside your head. 

Maybe Jirou, since she's the DJ for tonight. Why wouldn't you want to request a song at your best friend's party? 

Seeing that your new idea is so brilliant you're off without announcing it, slipping through people, shot glasses that clank against each other and a yelling Bakugo who serves as a beacon for Kirishima’s location. Can't lose your favorite man if his best friend is so loud. 

They're so close to where Jirou is, right next to her booth and they're chatting with Kaminari, so until they notice you charging to their direction you straighten your pose and run your hands up and down your dress, in case you need to smooth any wrinkle. It’s not like your walk is as proud as you're hoping it is, given the fact that you have a buzz and there's a ton of people that you have to slip in between, but at least every step gets you closer to your target's location. You'll keep the hot girl facade on as long as you can, though. 

The first sign of your arrival -even if you yourself consider the distance between you too big, still- is that Jirou smiles when she sees you and instantly yells your name. Kirishima, Kaminari and Bakugo look at you at the same time, but it's only Kaminari that smiles along with his girlfriend. 

Jirou hits him softly with her elbow, signing to him to step in the booth so she can come to you and he immediately plugs his headphones in the aux the same time Jirou pounces on you. 

“I haven't seen you all night! How are you?”

“I'm okay” You say, opting to glare at Kirishima for only a second. “I'm on Minachako arrest!” He stares back. 

“Ohh,” She pauses to think, and her thoughts land her just behind her back “Eiji?”

All your friends know you. Too well for your own good. It's almost making your skin crawl. 

“Yeah”

Jirou looks at you like she actually understands you. With lips pressed in a thin line on the side of her face and eyebrows furrowed in what resembles pity; she places her glance back and forth between you and the redhead. 

“You could talk to him”

“Oh absolutely not, it's okay, we did greet each other”

There it is; your million dollar, Oscar worthy performance. You pretend to be so nice about it, yet, you speak loud enough so that Kirishima cocks an eyebrow in your direction, smacking his lips. You need to smile in triumph now that your plan has worked.

“But” She pauses, unsure if what she wants to tell you is correct “he's right there. Come on”

“It’s complicated,” you mutter, turning back to Jirou and taking a long, burning sip of your drink.

“Complicated,” she repeats, deadpan. “Yeah, no kidding.”

“Right,” she drawls, rolling her eyes. “like it's totally normal behavior to stare at someone like you want to eat them alive but not actually say anything. Y'all need to grow up. Both of you”

Your eyes dart to Kirishima before you can stop yourself. He’s still there, still looking, and it feels like the moment freezes when your gazes collide. The playful smile that tugs at the corners of his lips is like a match to a gasoline-drenched nerve.

You look away first.

‘Grow up.’ That's such bullshit. You're both all grown up. Grown ups make humiliating choices all the time. 

You deadpan Jirou, pouting your lower lip. She raises her hands in mock surrender, but there’s a knowing glint in her eyes that you hate.

“I just wanted to request a song though”

“Kay! Denki! Song request!”

You don't dare tell her you only used her as an excuse to get to Kirishima and you definitely can't tell her you're so glad you found him there. So you turn to Kaminari, looking somewhat like a wet dog, as if he would ever let you leave this down had he not been drunk and tell him the first song that comes to your mind. 

Your request is a transition away and your body is pressed next to Kirishima's faster than you can process. Should it actually feel so awkward to be a winner? 

Despite the eternally painful awkwardness of your body language, you could kiss Jirou on the mouth for playing devil's advocate right now. She simply smiles in a way only she thinks is subtle, because truthfully everyone sees, but you're so past the embarrassment of your intentions being known. 

In a way that's smoother than water, she grabs Bakugo and pulls him to her, for a hug, and both you and Kirishima chuckle when he whines and tries to throw her hands away from him, to no avail. 

Had you been Kaminari, you'd cry your eyes out daily at how good a relationship she's got with Bakugo. 

“He's still acting like this?” You ask, for no one but Kirishima to answer. He's the only one who listens to you nonetheless. 

“Well you do hang out with him, you know him.”

Ouch. 

You've expected a remark like this from him, coated in irony so it's not like he catches you off guard with his tone. It's the context in which he speaks his words that's infuriating. Your face grows sour, in realization of his complaint, lips pouting when you think you also hate it that the two of you share most of your friends. 

And yet, instead of actually barking back like you'd always do, you roll your eyes at him, completely consumed by that well known feeling that is him making you mad. The shaking, the weak knees, the empty feeling in your stomach; you've not felt that in so long that it seems like you're able to experience emotions again. 

Εven if that's not something you want to dwell on, given that there are a thousand negative emotions and a lot of crushed healing journeys hidden behind it, you choose to only look at him again - since that’s the only thing you can both physically do for the night, back turned against Jirou and Bakugo, finally, so you can inspect the people dancing on the rooftop, once you decide Kirishima is not a sight for sore eyes.

He meets your eyes with a tilt of his head even if his body is turned facefront and towards his friends. None of you notice how quiet Jirou, Denki and Bakugo are, and even if you did, you both would consider that it’s only because you can’t listen to them over the loudness of the music.

There's a peculiar shift in the air between you, something that screams for salvation like a prey, trapped in a beast's sharp mouth. It's just the nuisance of the two of you, the tenderness of a moment that shouldn't exist outside of shared memories. 

Yet here you are, same as him, totally engulfed and engrossed in the twilight of it. 

The nature of the pull that's still evident between the two of you blooms and spurts seeds of painful flowers in your lungs. 

You lick some of your lipgloss, longing for a taste that's sweeter than the bitter feeling in your chest and it's no use; the poison that’s dripping within your insides is contributing to the ignition of a fire that no cherry flavored lip gloss can put out.

You put so much effort to just say “I won't do it anymore then” just for his voice to overlap yours. 

“Dance a little”

Your dislike for what he spurt out is too evident in your face, but your expression softens when he wiggles a hand underneath the railing your chest has weighted on, to pull you closer to him.

Does his hand have to feel so warm?

You’re stuck side to side with Kirishima and your small audience is left speechless; Bakugo averts his eyes, mouth all wide before he shoots Jirou’s hands off him, ready to walk away again, but you don’t notice, you wouldn’t even if you could, not when Eijiro’s palm wraps so smoothly around your waist. There’s nothing to see, not even for Jirou, in your small corner. Your lack of interest in your surroundings confirms that.

He gives you a shake, the smallest one, to just introduce some movement to your body and you follow his lead blindly as he handles you in front of him, back pressed against his chest. It’s so smooth that you let yourself go, ignoring that silly voice in the back of your head that tells you you’re going to embarrass yourself if you dance with him.

Big hands rest on where your hips start, at the curve of your waist but they don’t apply pressure. He sways with you, bobs his head when you do and you don't seem to remember that he never dances either, hell you don’t even remember you don’t.

It feels so good to just link your body like this with his, with his breath cooling your neck. If it wasn’t the middle of the summer and you weren't dripping in sweat you would dare to move even more. For a few more moments, you let him move your body the way he pleases as the music moves him.

Your buzz is delicious right now, so much that you can’t even decide if what's going on is actually true. Your hips work, finally, beyond his hands and you’re grinding against him, before you even realise it.

The monster that resides deep within your thoughts awakens your lust and eats away every possible thought that could lead you to rejecting his touch.

The tips of Kirishima’s fingers dig into your hip bone, snatching a handful of satin clothed skin and he presses you impossibly onto him. You whine your hips to his, eyes closed, ignoring the twitch between your legs when he rests his forehead to the crook of your neck just so he can muster up the courage to move his hands in exploring a body that’s so well known to him.

In a big effort to try and show him that you want him too, you wrap one arm around his head, touching his face, the back of his neck, the dimple on top of his shoulder through his shirt. 

From that moment on it's like you’ve unleashed a beast.

The thin, elastic band of your underwear softly snaps against your skin -is this too fast?- and you can't think of anything other than how firm the pads or his fingers are -were? always have been?- over your dress. Your stomach sinks inside your skin and bones.

This is you slowly giving in to him again. Empty headed. Teary eyed. Pressed onto him for dear life.

You barely feel the vibration of your phone, too engulfed in this moment of finally getting what you want and for a while it’s easy to ignore it, like it doesn't happen. It never even rang. But your eyes shoot open when you come to your senses, a few more rings in.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Mina.

You split yourself from Kirishima so fast, it could actually sound like ripping paper in half. Like velcro on shoes. 

“What?” He asks, brows furrowed. He looks like a child whose christmas gift has been ripped away from his hands by his sibling. His hands even maintain their hold on you. 

“Fuck i gotta go! Mina will kill me”

“You could—wait! I wanna talk!”

You look at him exactly how he deserves with the nonsense he’s speaking, in disbelief and confusion. Talk? Even if you did stay to talk, Mina would find you, anywhere. You’re still contemplating whether this girl has made you eat an airtag without you realising and the fact that you’ve even managed to slip away from her for this long is remarkable.

It's as simple as this; Ochaco may not get mad at you if she catches you with Kirishima, she might just give you ‘a talk’, but Mina will absolutely murder you.

Rightfully so. You're hidden away from the friends that want nothing but you to be well, with the only person that is able to send you to psychosis in the case he decides it's so funny to break your heart again. And you danced with him, in front of your friends.

Everyone must think you’re an idiot. And Kirishima, he just might know it for sure. Talking is nothing but an excuse to get you to hook up with him.

You shake your head instead of responding ‘no’ to him and wiggle yourself away from him, ready to run to Mina.

_________

As you weave your way through the crowd, you’re hyper aware of everything—your pounding heart, the lingering warmth of Kirishima's touch on your skin, and the faint scent of his cologne that still clings to your dress. The guilt gnaws at you with every step, but it’s drowned out by the electric buzz in your veins. Mina is going to tear you apart, but somehow, the bigger fear isn’t her wrath; it’s the thought of looking back and seeing Kirishima standing there, watching you leave again.

When you finally spot Mina across the rooftop, she’s mid-laugh with Ochaco, drink in hand, her head thrown back as though she hasn’t a care in the world. Relief surges through you.

When you think of it, there's no possible way in the whole known and unknown universe that Mina and Ochacko don’t know where you had been for all the while you were gone. No matter how much you fix your dress, your hair, no matter how much lipgloss you reapply, you reek of Kirishima's heavy cologne, or so you believe, and your heart has ceased to exist. 

Their eyes look nothing but innocent, deprived of any mean thoughts concerning you and the redhead, hell you're not even sure they could imagine you would find ways to facilitate a plan to just get some time alone with him. 

It's so splitting, they're not stupid enough to believe this. The issue is they probably trust you enough to not do such a thing. 

You steel yourself, pulling your best ‘everything’s fine’ expression onto your face and saunter over as casually as you can muster. But Mina’s sharp eyes catch yours almost immediately, and her smile falters just slightly. 

“Where have you been?” she asks, her tone deceptively light but laced with the edge of suspicion. You are not surprised.

“Just… talking to Jirou,” you reply, keeping your voice steady as you point in the vague direction of the DJ booth. It’s technically true. At least for a moment.

Mina smiles at you, warmly this time, Ochako smiles at you again but your head is buzzing. You're too nervous, almost blurting everything in a tone of denial. I definitely didn't dance with Kirishima while I was at it.

“Thank god, I thought you were with him again. I started to get so worried”

Your stomach drops, and the heat rushes to your face. Did she see you?. Mina always sees and it's nerve wracking to wait for confirmation on her part.

“I wasn’t-" You try to deflect, but her raised eyebrow silences you. Lying would only dig you deeper into the hole you’re already in, but you do it anyway “I'm a big girl, Mina, I told you.  Just went to request a song from Jirou.” Technically, that is true.

You glance at Ochako, whose gaze softens when she meets yours. She offers you a small smile, and you feel a twinge of guilt. If anyone is going to see through your facade, it’s her.

“Did Jirou play it yet?” Ochaco asks, sipping from her cup and you nod in response.

“Did you see Kirishima over there? Bakugo’s being his usual loud self, so I bet they’re hanging out by the booth. He’s hard to miss.”

Your stomach twists at the mention of his name, but you keep your face neutral, shrugging casually. Mina raises an eyebrow at you, her grin turning sly. “You sure you didn’t go over there just to sneak a peek?”

Ochaco gives her a light nudge. “Mina, leave her alone. She’s probably just trying to enjoy the party.”

“I am enjoying the party,” you say, forcing a lightness into your tone, bopping your head to the side like it's the most natural thing in the world.

There's anxiety running in your bloodstream with every spoken word, making your hands shake. Even when you want them to believe you, you're not entirely sure they do and your tummy is churning. 

“Great, just don’t stroll off on your own!”

Ochako smiles and places her hand on your shoulder “Mmh, Mina relax, the night is young”

“OCHAKO!” Mina screams “m'not leaving her outta my sight” 

She's warmer than the hot summer air when she wraps her arms around you from behind, excited to place a lipstick stained kiss over your hair, right where your ear is. 

In any other scenario you wouldn't feel so suffocated. But you lied to her, slipped away from her and grinded against him for no other reason than giving in to your carnal desires when she just wants to desperately keep you away from someone who’s been cruel to you. Secretly, dizzy in your buzzed out state, you hate the remembrance that it's fine when she goes back to her exes. 

Whatever it is you feel, you don't speak on it once you realize that the churning pit in your stomach is your need to pee -such a relief- and you inform your friends you are going to the bathroom, in case you can escape the back and forth movement of Mina's sway while she's got you in her arms. 

“Kay i’m coming with you” Mina says and lingers her fingers in between yours.

You roll your eyes, laughing along even though the tension in your chest refuses to ease. “You don’t have to, I'm not going to see him there too.” 

But she comes, nonetheless, almost skipping the steps downstairs and through the hall of Sero’s house. It’s too hot inside, it’s too humid outside and yours and Mina’s sticky hands merged together are almost giving you a sensory hell; Perhaps it was a good idea to let her come with you to the bathroom, so both of you can wash your hands from spilled booze and gathered sweat. 

Every step you take is frenzied, and she notices, being the better alcohol handler that she is in comparison to you. Your mind is a warzone, flashing images of Kirishima's hands on your waist, reminding you of the way his forehead pressed against the curve of your neck, the heat of his body against yours. You shake your head, trying to snap yourself out of it. Mina doesn’t know. She can’t know. If you act normal, everything will be fine.

The bathroom is your personal oasis, a sole chance of salvation, to tuck yourself away from everyone for even a few moments. 

You go in first and in seconds you’re done, allowing Mina to go inside after you. You don’t look at yourself in the mirror, scared to see anything in your makeup that isn’t perfect. You’d rather not be aware of something you ultimately can't fix. 

With your back against the wall, you find some of the coolness of it almost soothing. For a moment, you almost feel normal, safe, like you can forget the whirlwind of emotions threatening to pull you under.

Almost, because concrete drinks up the heat worse than a sponge does water, almost, because that red haired devil announces himself to you all of a sudden again. It'd be silly to think you can actually escape him when you've infiltrated his mind. Assuming you've managed to rile him up. 

He wouldn't have followed your tail to the bathroom had you not done so. Right? 

Nonetheless, your heart stops as Kirishima’s voice cuts through the muffled music in the distance.  He’s closer than you expected, leaning casually against the doorframe at the far end of the hall. His eyes meet yours, warm and intense, and you feel your throat tighten.

This time he greets you casually again, with “Mina’s in?” 

Oh dear god how you wish to escape him. 

You shoot him what you can only hope to be one of your most murderous looks and reply. “Yeah” 

“Cool. I’ll wait”

Panic flashes through you. Mina is just a few feet away, the bathroom door closed but the lock undone. She could walk out any second and catch the two of you like this. Your brain screams at you to do something -anything- to put distance between you and him. But your body betrays you, frozen in place.

There’s so much effort put into being silent or not looking at him that you think you’re going to burst. Whatever cool girl persona you’re trying and failing to put on is just… so, so bad. You wonder if there’s anything you can do, or say, to just ease this. Ask him how he’s been? Anything? No? You did grind the entirety of your ass against his groin just a little while ago. So you're not sure it's really appropriate to casually ask anything like that. 

“Listen i-” He speaks first, like he can read your mind but this time you are the one to overlap your voices.

“What are you doing here?” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper but still authoritative.

Kirishima tilts his head, studying you for a moment before answering. “Looking for you.” He clears his throat before he continues “I wanted to say.. I hope you’ve been okay”

You huff in response.

“Don’t want to talk to me? That’s fine” he pouts. And you suddenly think you can forget that time you thought you could die from how much you had been crying about the heartbreaker that he is. “You did dance with me though”

“You shouldn’t be here,” you hiss, glancing toward the bathroom door.

“I know,” he interrupts, stepping closer. Not enough to breach your space entirely, but enough that you feel the heat of his presence. 

You want to tell him a drunken dance isn't enough to have the two of you on casual terms again. But while studying his face, you come across realities you just need to ignore. 

His lips are so plum, his nose is so delicate, the strands of hair that fall from his low bun are so magical. It’s really no wonder what you've ever liked in him. You’ve liked everything. It's so infuriating. He shouldn’t really be doing this to you. Because every minute MIna takes in the bathroom is a minute that you forget the past. And you look at his chest so you don’t look him in the face but he looks so soft. It could actually kill you—but It just makes you mad instead.

“Why do you care how I've been?” you ask.

He leans on his bicep, right onto the wall, right next to you. 

His hair is so wild. The carmine of his eyes is too piercing for that expression that’s adorning his face. And oh dear god his arms are huge. You're so ruined by him and it kills you to realize that you already knew that and you're still choosing to engage with him. 

Eijiro Kirishima looks soft— he’s so far from it. Alas, for some reason you mimic him so much that you’re standing face to face. There’s not an answer to your question, not a direct one at least and you tell yourself it's because he does care about you. Just not in the way you care about him. 

The two of you stare at each other for what seems like an eternity, lips tucked tightly under teeth and crossed armed. One is determined to break a wall, the other trying to crawl up that wall with blood, sweat and tears.

“You know i-”

“No i don’t” You cut him off and he leans in impossibly closer. “Don't say it”

You’re suddenly aware of how long his eyelashes are and this party isn’t fun anymore. 

The tension between you could snap the air in two. Kirishima’s gaze locks onto yours, heavy and unyielding, and your heart is pounding so hard you swear he can hear it. Every nerve in your body screams at you to push him away, to step back, to run—but you don’t. You can’t. His presence is magnetic, pulling you into his orbit against all reason.

The bathroom door creaks slightly, and both your heads snap toward the sound. It’s still closed. Mina’s still inside. But the reminder of her so close, the precariousness of this situation, sends a wave of panic crashing over you.

“Go,” you hiss, your voice trembling with the effort to keep it steady. “Before she comes out.”

You move your hands as in to go and push against his chest when ultimately, you decide not to— and so you awkwardly stand with your hands hanging mid air. You’re unsure of what to do with them.

Kirishima, however, doesn’t budge. He stays exactly where he is, his arm braced against the wall beside you, his body a shield between you and the rest of the world. His lips part, and you think he’s going to argue, but instead, he says something that takes your breath away.

“I miss you.”

You try to hold on to your anger, your hurt, but it slips through your fingers like specs of sand. It doesn’t matter that you can’t fall for this again. His bluntness, the way he speaks it like it’s a given fact that you should absolutely know on your own, kills you.

“Kirishima,” you start, your voice sharp but still wavering. The bathroom door clicks open before you can have a chance to reply, to even weave a coherent sequence of words with your weakened thoughts, and Mina steps out, immediately clocking the two of you. Her eyes narrow, suspicion flaring to life as she takes in the scene. You push yourself off the wall, putting some much needed space between you and Kirishima.

You look at her with your mouth agape and your hands still dance awkwardly before your chest.

Mina swoops her hand and locks her elbow into yours in the right -or rather wrong- time and you’re dragged away from Kirishima again. He, in return, chuckles in amusement like he knows better and as the music starts to become loud and clear in your hearing and you’re drifting away from him, watching him as he turns smaller and smaller with your every step you realise— this party can be fun again. 

Your friend is furious this time, though, muttering something like “you cannot be left alone for a second”. That horrible coil in your stomach is back “You’ll just stay by me the whole night”

You’re tossed on cushion and if your heart trying to jump out of your chest wasn’t enough to make your whole body shake, Mina plops right next to you, imprisoning you to your seat. 

Thus, you find yourself trapped, like a highschooler on detention, with half your heart up your sleeve, on one of the couches that are on the rooftop, squeezed between Tetsutetsu and Mina, blinking at their conversation about a recent paper they had to finish for one of their shared classes. You’re so naturally bored out of your mind and drunk and all you can think about is the way Kirishima looked at you outside of the bathroom.

The words he spoke. 

Your first instinct to make this wave of boredom -and these poisonous thoughts- wash away from your mind and body, is to open your phone and scroll through Instagram, refusing so profoundly to even acknowledge the only conversation you get to hear at a party in the middle of the summer is about university.

Quick and as instinctively as it gets, you glance at the pink and yellow gradient of Instagram story icons, and you tap at the screen fast, pretending you haven’t seen Kirishima's icon lined up at the top of your homepage, bright green adorning it. 

Mina sees. 

Strike one.

You tap out, faking a small scroll on your homepage as you swipe the screen, carefully, eyeing the conversation with Kirishima that screams unread. You're sure, if this notification could speak, i’d be screaming at you to open it like a caged and hurt tiger cub. 

Naughty fingers linger just above it and you wish you too had a privacy screen right now, like Mina, because all you can do is sink into the soft pillow of the couch, elbows close to your waist. You almost think you have shielded yourself away from her.

Eyes scanning the area, you manage to spot Kirishima. And he spots you instantly. You don’t smile at each other, you don't wave, there’s nothing you can do to cover for what he said to you a few minutes before because Mina made it awkward. 

You just blink at him, slowly and he eyes you up and down. Legs, hair, face, shoulders, the phone in your hands and then your eyes again.

Both Tetsutetsu and Mina see. 

Strike two.

He reaches for his pocket, frantically searching for his phone—perhaps he's not as clueless as they get, after all. With a quick lock of gazes that speak in the same, delinquent language of lust, you open the chat while he unlocks his phone. 

Strike three. 

Mina snatches your phone. 

Tetsutsetu looks at you apologetically but your furrowed brows and your perked ears shoo him away from even steering a word. You're angry, mad, furious, that your best friend is treating you like you're her property. Like you should hereby follow her orders like they're vital. 

“This is so not funny. Give me my phone” You yell, even if the music is louder than your voice and extend your open palm to her, expecting your device to be handed to you.

“Absolutely not. You’re gonna text him.”

“And what’s it to you? Why do you care so much?”

Your friend widens her eyes in confusion, anger, sadness. You know you shouldn’t have said that, with how much she’s been by your side all this time but her behavior tonight is crippling you. It's suffocating you. If you want Kirishima and he wants you, then there’s absolutely nothing that your friends can do to stop the two of you. You wanna have your heart ripped out again and have the pieces fed to you by force? Fine—not fine, really, that heartbreak almost killed you, but it should be your choice!

You want to scream. You want to yell at her, at Tetsutetsu, at the universe for orchestrating this whole damn night against you. Instead, you grit your teeth so hard you can feel your jaw tighten and pull at your temples.

Mina’s holding your phone like it’s the nuclear launch codes, her lips pursed into a line that’s both furious and disappointed and her ponytail bops. It’s not a look you’re unfamiliar with tonight, but that doesn't make it sting any less. And there’s Kirishima, somewhere in the periphery, probably wondering why you haven’t texted him yet, silently demanding a response from you- probably thinking about that goddamn dance and how easy it is for him to pull you back in and make you nervous with his confession.

Your chest heaves as you force yourself to take a breath.

“I’m not a child, Mina,” you say, your voice barely above the music, but it’s sharper than glass, intended to be mean. 

Mina crosses her arms, holding your phone to her chest like she’s guarding your entire future. “No, you’re just acting like one. What’s your plan here, huh? Just let him screw you over again?”

Tetsutetsu shifts awkwardly beside you, eyes flicking between the two of you like he’s waiting for someone to call timeout. It gets worse when you think that he’s friends with the person you're fighting with Mina about.

“This isn’t about you!”

Mina yells something incoherent back and you decide you can't just ruin her party because you want that red devil to eat your heart out. You are not a bad friend. But the frustration and heat of the night makes your blood boil. “Why do you care so much if I want to talk to him?”

“Because you’re my friend!” Mina snaps, stepping closer, her voice trembling just enough to let you know she’s holding back from bursting to tears. “Because I saw what he did to you last time. Because I care about you more than that asshole ever will!”

It feels like she’s just punched you in the chest. It pains you more than the notion that you’re the terrible friend that’s making her cry on her birthday. And maybe she has a point—maybe she’s entirely right- but you’re so tired of everyone else deciding what’s best for you, like you’re some fragile thing that’ll shatter if you make one wrong move, just because they’ve all watched you break once doesn't mean they can stop it from happening again. It’s your own heart that’s to decide if the need to shatter again is or isn’t vital.

“But you’re friends with him!”

“Uh, maybe we should all just, you know, calm down?” Tetsutetsu interferes awkwardly, glancing between you and Mina.

Her face twists into something unreadable because you’re right, and for a second you think she’s going to throw your phone off the rooftop just so you can avoid him. But she sighs, loud and sharp and shoves the device into your hand. There's no real winning when he's in the same space as you. Whether you have your phone or not, it's pointless. 

“Fine. Whatever.” She turns away, her arms folded tight across her chest “Do what you want.” She yells, finally, and your eyes are too watery to notice hers are a mirror of yours.

You don’t move at first, your heart still pounding, the weight of the phone in your hand feeling like it might just crush you. Tetsutetsu mutters something about grabbing another drink and slips far away, leaving you and Mina in silence, the distant bass of the party the only thing keeping the moment from completely unraveling.

“Go ahead. Text him. Meet him. Fuck him all you want. Let him stomp on your heart all over again. But don’t say I didn’t warn you and don’t come crying to me afterwards either.”

Her words sting more than you want to admit, it’s evident in your face when you mutter that you want to go home.

Mina softens her eyes immediately at that. Maybe you both took it too far, but there’s no satisfaction in the kindness she tries to show you when she goes to hug you. She’s not the one who looks like she’s going to burst into tears anymore. You are. And you avoid her open arms, choosing to back away.

You take a step back, avoiding her touch like it burns. The lump in your throat feels like it might choke you, and the tears threaten to spill over. “I can’t do this right now,” you say, your voice trembling. “I need space.”

Her hands drop to her sides, and her face falls, stricken. “I didn’t mean-” she begins, but you shake your head, cutting her off.

“I’ll be fine,” you say, though you’re not sure if you believe it. “I just need some air.” backing away further. The music, the party, the noise; it all fades into the background as you turn and weave through the crowd, desperate to escape. Desperate to breathe.

You don’t know what makes you look up, but when you do, before you storm off the party and leave Mina to have her fun without having to look out for your excuse of an ass,  your eyes find Kirishima again, like they always do tonight. He’s still standing there, leaning against the edge of the rooftop with one hand in his pocket, his head tilted just slightly as he watches you.

You wish this was one of the times you could confide in him about the problems that you’re facing, as you’ve done so a lot of past times, but it’s so hard to want him when he’s not even willing to do that anymore. You’re not sure you can trust him with your heart again. Part of you just wants to behave to Mina’s advice. You just want to be a good friend.

You fall victim to the ghost of stomping off at parties every time you’re invited to one and to think that this would be different would be a false hope. The worst is that this time everyone is here to witness it. You’re gone, slipping past the crowd and toward the stairs, your heart pounding louder than the music.

______

If you could physically cool down in the middle of the summer, from that nasty attitude of yours to your best friend and that need for a douchebag that will chew you and spit you again, you would. The trick of sticking your open back to any concrete wall is so banal by now. Your legs are shaking. The cigarette you’re smoking is almost out -halfway- and you feel so emotionally tired that you don’t even want to light it up again.

You want to go home, somehow, even considering getting yourself an Uber so you can get out as fast as you can. Mina is everywhere watching over like a tyrant and so is Kirishima. They've been hot on your every step.

But Kirishima's too good at finding you when you're not even trying to hide. 

He finds you -hidden this time- on the outside of that small kitchen door that leads to the backyard of Sero’s house. Although he doesn’t ask you if you’re alright, your lips are pouted, your eyebrows scrunched into a line in the middle of your forehead. He knows that you're mad since he's inflicted anger on you a thousand times before. 

“Shoo. I'm not supposed to talk to you” You almost bark, not even looking at him, yet, he simply ignores it. He wants to talk to you and there's nothing you can do to stop him. 

“Mina doesn’t allow you to? huh”

You cringe at his chuckle and he giggles again. It's almost hard to believe they were such good friends all these years ago. But you do confirm what he asks when you don't reply. You're so tired of wishing it was different and you really want to go home. Avoid all this trouble, avoid him, avoid getting swooned by him. 

“Ahh, you know-”

It's just a few syllables and you're locked in his eyes, heart palpitating as red fills everything in your vision. Whether it's him or the hotness of your feelings.

The coil in your stomach is back—finally, as if it ever left- revealing itself as dread and anger for everyone. Anger for Mina trying to force you to act a certain way, anger at Kirishima for not leaving you alone, anger at yourself for giving him a chance to make you fold again. You choose to bark when you can't bite. There's no universe in which you win a fight over Kirishima. 

“You look like you want to say something,” he says softly, stepping closer, his tone both curious and coaxing.

Your hands ball into fists at your sides, nails biting into your palms as you try to steady yourself. The ache in your chest sharpens as the weight of everything presses down on you. You can’t hold it in any longer. You’re so angry and confused.

“No, fuck you. Go back to the girlfriend that you love so much”

For a moment, his expression flickers. Surprise, then hurt, flashing so quickly you almost miss it. Then his lips curl into a smirk, the sharp edge of it cutting through the tension like a blade.

“Awww..Thought you knew we broke up, when you unblocked me and all”

Oh so he’s playing you. Great. 

Your stomach churns. The way he says it, so casual, so smug, choking on a little laugh while he’s at it, makes your blood boil. You cross your arms, leaning against the cool brick wall as if it could shield you from his presence.

“You think this is funny?” you snap, glaring at him.

“Not at all,” he says, his smirk softening into something more genuine, something more infuriatingly earnest. “I just think it’s interesting.”

“Interesting?”

He shrugs, his broad shoulders moving effortlessly, the motion somehow both casual and loaded. “You’re still this angry. Still... passionate.”

“Passionate?” you echo, the word sour on your tongue. Had you been passionate about it he still wouldn’t be seeing the end of it. You thought he knew you like that. “I’m pissed. There’s a difference.”

“Sure there is.” His voice is calm, maddeningly so, as he leans a little closer. “But I think you’re pissed because you still care.”

His words hit like a slap, the kind that stings and lingers long after. The kind that leaves an angrily red handprint after. You want to deny it, to tell him he’s wrong, but the words won’t come. Instead, you press your palms against the wall behind you, your nails scraping against the rough surface.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you mutter. It lacks the venom you wish it carried, because you hope he does the opposite of what you’re saying.

He doesn’t back off. Instead, he tilts his head slightly, studying you like he’s trying to read a book that’s just out of reach. “You ever think maybe I’m still bothering because I care too?”

That shuts you up. Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. The weight of his words hangs heavy between you, thickening the already charged air.

Is it more embarrassing that he knows what exact action lies behind your thoughts or that he’s calling you on it? He could have stayed silent and spared you of this uncomfortable notion that finally answers to his name and you could have tried not to speak any venom at him with your words. You’ve always found yourself unable to, alas, even when you told him you love him, it was meant to hurt him, more than it meant to take that weight off your chest. So why hold back now of all times? 

“I meant what i said before. And I know that you meant that you loved me when you said it.”

Standing face to face with him is inevitable at this point. He’s not so keen on pushing his back against the wall anymore, seeing that you don’t turn to face him again, not even once, and he’s determined to face you. You look at him tired, by blinking into his eyes and you’re so thankful for the safety distance he puts in between the two of you. 

For the first time tonight he’s looking at you apologetically and he even waits until you put out your cigarette to open his arms in front of your very eyes.

It’s a welcoming invite which you receive with disbelief, but he doesn’t ask if he can hug you. He just does. Two fucking seconds is all it takes until you’re burying yourself into him. The crook of his neck. That soft spot that emits his scent the strongest. It’s too tender against your nose. Perhaps he's tender too. 

You’re melting; Whether it's sweat or a tear that you’ve tried so hard to contain in your lower eyelids, there's something about him that’s turning you into a puddle. Right here, right now. Perhaps, your soft spot for Kirishima is really so physical. That devil of a man moans into the crook of your neck and you know he’s smiling without having to witness it to make sure. 

It’s refreshing in such a twisted way to know you can’t get away from each other.

An eternity later, when you pull back, with empty arms, he reaches for his pocket, sweetness emitting from the expression on his face. Thick fingers idle on a bent roll of a cigarette that's too big to just be filled with normal tobacco. 

“Wanna smoke with me?” He asks and plops right next to you on the wall -his and yours original spot- to which you shrug in response. What’s the worst that could happen? 

You had a drag or even two a little while ago, in the presence of Sero and there’s not enough alcohol in your system -you think- to make you spiral. Even if the blunt that Kirishima is holding is fatter than the ones you would normally smoke with a whole bunch of people, there’s really no harm in just a little. It'll help you unwind, just so you don't choke him with your bare hands at the cost of your heartbreaks. 

Your lighter is used to light the blunt in between his lips and everything around you suddenly smells like sativa. Kirishima takes a long drag, his eyes slipping shut “Ahh, that’s the stuff” He says and moves his hand accordingly to pass it to you.

So generous. You could cry.  For a moment, you forget how much you hate him. It’s in the way his lips curl around the blunt, casually unbothered, like he has all the time in the world to figure you out. “What?” he asks, tilting his head like he doesn’t already know the answer. 

You glance at the lit end as he offers it to you. The unspoken invitation hangs in the humid summer air. You take a drag and pass it to him again, careful to let the smoke linger in your lungs as you count the seconds before you exhale. 

Fingers touch and stay there. It’s enough to send a jolt through your already frayed nerves and you try not to ponder over the question on whether his hands are hot because of you or the hot summer weather. Closing your eyes for a second, you decide to open them in his direction just to find him already staring at you.

“Shut up,” you mutter. 

“You gonna let me smoke this whole thing by myself?”

The smoke burns going down, but the buzz hits almost instantly, and you let out a shaky breath. “I’m not doing this because of you.” You snatch it from him. He laughs, low and quiet, like he’s savoring some private joke you’ll never be in on.

“Sure you’re not.”

You don’t dignify that with a response. That idiot thinks he knows all about you, even the unspoken. That's so far from your own truth. 

Everything around you is so muffled and peaceful. The party is an eon away and Kirishima doesn’t utter a word. Heaven. But it lasts so little, now that your thoughts are dizzy again, every minor word you could jab at him is woven and hidden under your tongue. Your heads are itching to get closer and closer.

You turn to look at him again but you can’t hold a laugh in. The situation is hilarious on its very own when you think about it. You’re hidden away with the only person you’re never supposed to acknowledge ever again and he’s laughing back at you for laughing in his face. You danced with him, tried to message him, you stared at each other too much, like you're both insane. 

There's no normal, or humane way to approach anything that has to do with the two of you together and it would be a lie if you said you hadn't missed this. 

The more smoke enters your lungs the more you feel like you're loosening up, stiff shoulders finally relaxed.

This new point of view is fun; foreheads almost clashing, crossed staring. You'll try to keep away from him as much as you can, but he breaks that uncomfortable silence that's otherwise only broken by the occasional sound of inhaling. It’s the way he leans his head back against the wall, exposing the line of his throat, the way his hair falls just right even when it’s sweaty and unkempt. You hate it. You hate him. He’s so unexpected.

The silence between you stretches again, heavy and loaded, but not suffocating this time. You let yourself look at him—really look at him-and for a moment, you see the Kirishima you used to know. The one who made you laugh until your sides ached, who held you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

“I hate you,” you mutter, though there’s no venom in your voice. It’s a feeble attempt to guard yourself, to keep him at arm’s length.

He chuckles softly, and the sound is warm, familiar. “I know.”

You shake your head, your lips twitching into a reluctant smile despite yourself. “You’re insufferable.”

“Maybe,” he agrees, a playful glint returning to his eyes. “But you still haven’t walked away.” The sound of exhaling echoes before he speaks again “Why’d you unblock me?”

You freeze, the blunt paused halfway to your lips. It’s not like you hadn’t expected this question, but you thought you’d have more time to come up with an answer. “I don’t know,” you say. Big lie for a topic you don’t want to actually talk about. 

Kirishima shifts, turning his body toward you just enough to make you squirm, his forehead still on yours even if the laughter has died  “Bullshit.”

You glare at him, but there’s no real heat behind it anymore. “Maybe I was bored. Maybe I wanted to see if you’d embarrass yourself trying to message me.”

He smirks, but it’s softer than usual, like he’s trying not to scare you off. “And? Did I?”

You roll your eyes. “You were predictable.”

“To think I almost didn't come because I didn't want to see you.” In any other instance this phrase would hurt like a bitch. “Bakugo said I shouldn't act like a dick tonight.”

You're not sure if he's referring to you or the party, but you choose to test him, pretending to be oblivious to his advance. 

“Mina won't forgive you if you're a shitty friend to her again”

“Mm I know” He giggles “never meant to be like that”

You don't reply out of nothing but embarrassment. It was you who would kept in contact with Kirishima when Mina had a fight with him, and you acted like a fool, telling her everything about him when he messed up. Something she just didn't do for you when she was friends with him and the two of you were a casual thing. 

Hell, you didn't even know they were this close again before she announced that he'll be at the party. 

Perhaps right now you don't find it in you to give a damn about their friendship. Whenever she's in the middle of you there's only disaster. You'd rather only count on yourself to ruin things with him. 

“I just… I don't care. Treat Mina however she allows you to.” This would usually make him bite, just enough so you could feel sharp canines, but now that he's intoxicated he just smiles softly. How long has it been since you've seen that expression on him? 

“Damn you're so harsh again”

Closed eyes, smile from one ear to another; you have to show him and his stupidly beautiful face that you're not the person he once knew. Your forehead sticks to his with a muffled sound. “Then what'll you do to make me soft?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Suddenly you come to realize, that getting Kirishima back is the easiest thing in the universe. Which just isn't a very good sign, at all. 

Α curious hand travels to your cheek, pushing back a loose strand of hair away from your face and you convince yourself you wouldn’t have accepted this touch if it wasn’t for another reason -no- but he cups the left side of your face so smoothly, your faces still stuck together, that the world is reduced to this hidden part of Sero’s backyard. To just the two of you. 

He’s so not good for you, damaged goods, been with other people that aren't you, you tell yourself in a last frail attempt to pull away, yet your body does not comply with any negative comment about him your mind has to offer to restrain you.

He chuckles for another time and it’s downright annoying how much you want him “I think i'm getting the munchies” 

You’re sold on every single word.

______

Under any other circumstance you’d avoid anything edible in Sero’s fridge given the fact that he owns a snake as a pet. There’s a plateau filled with canapes, there’s soda and there’s beer neatly placed in the vegetable drawer and that’s about all you can see from behind Kirishima’s back. He’s searching frantically for something while you hate how loud the music sounds now, your stomach growls much like his and he obviously hears it. It’s so loud even that he gives one of his searching hands a break and extends it to you, to pull you next to him. Tucked underneath his bicep you’re now met with the heavenly chill of the fridge.

You look up at him while he roams through the fridge, tongue out and lips pressed into a line. This isn’t a hidden place anymore; anyone can walk in and see you hugging. Yet and ever so fortunately your friends seem to have forgotten about the menace of the two of you being together apparently.

Kirishima pulls back from the fridge and closes it, taking the needed chilly air away with the stainless steel door. There’s victory in his hands. An unopened pack of prosciutto and a squeeze bottle of honey. Seeing that you don’t really get a chance to wiggle yourself from his arm, he swings you so that your back is facing the cabinets, your ass hitting the wooden countertop as your dress hitches slightly upwards. 

Big breath in. Slow exhale. His naked knee is in contact with your thigh.

He struggles with the packaging for a second but it doesn’t put up a long fight. With a stomach so viciously hungry his hands win for the second time this evening. With every movement you’re pressed further onto the countertop, but still not on it yet.

A small bite of prosciutto goes onto the tip of his finger and he finally sets his eyes on you. “Mouth” he orders and you open almost instinctively, taking the finger into your mouth. You whine at how salty it is but he’s got the solution for you, trapped in that golden squeeze bottle.

When he has his own share of the delicatessen he drops just a golden bit on the same finger and puts it in your mouth. Finally past your surprised lips, you suckle the honey, gaze fixated on him while his thumb brushes against your upper lip.

So long lip combo. You will not be missed.

“Great idea” You tell him ever so content. Everything is so balanced in your little bubble right now. Even the way he sucks the same finger into his mouth.

One more round of prosciutto means one more round of honey and you almost wonder if he came up with this on the spot, or if he’s ever done this before. You’ve never seen him with such menace in his red eyes. He’s just so evil.

Even more so, when he squeezes more honey on his finger and smears it against your lips. For a sinister moment everything goes completely silent and static. Your tongue dances on the tip of his finger as he pushes it further and further into your mouth, stroking your chin and your cheek when his hand moves in a circular motion.

“Fuck” He hisses, licking his lips and pulling his finger way from your mouth. The popping sound it makes is enough to get him riled up just enough, so that he grabs your face with his hands. He takes the smallest leap towards you, given the fact that you’re not that far away from each other, smacking his lips on yours.

With a heart that’s heavy as a rainy cloud, you moan at how rough his are. There’s nothing but neediness in his movements, from how he bites your lower lip between his teeth to how his hands just won’t let the sides of your face. You couldn’t even get yourself out of this situation with a written petition.

And when he feels and tastes like everything you remember, you can’t find it in you to kiss him back with the same burning fever. You want to be mean.

You push him away, whispering “Kirishima. Don’t kiss me” but your own hands are on his face too.

“Eijiro” He corrects you, like he hasn’t heard the second part of your words. “Now's not the time for my last name” His thumbs stroke your cheeks, so gentle it makes your chest ache. You hate how good his touch feels, how much you want to lean into it even as you tell yourself you shouldn’t.

He simply doesn't understand your inner turbulence.

“Don’t call me by my last name when I’m about to fuck you”

You’d hate to call him that; Kirishima is nothing but himself and he’s definitely not ‘your Eijiro’ even if you might as well have always been his. There’s just no way of showing him how much you want him while you absolutely hate him. Tonight was never meant to end up like this. you weren't supposed to land on Sero’s kitchen counter, trapped by him, kissing him. You were supposed to be having fun.

So long is the distance between fun and the notion of you doubting everything that’s happening to you at the moment. So short is the route in your brain that combines Kirishima’s behavior that is lust driven to the one you assume is him getting what he wants and chewing you and spitting you out for anyone to have his leftovers.

You count on him to put the invisible block between these two thoughts, to put an end at your turbulence. In the way his nose nuzzles to yours, in the warmth of his body against your own.

The tension is thick in the air between the two of you, and for a moment, his hands linger on your face like he’s memorizing the shape of it. His red eyes are half-lidded, drunk on the moment or the haze of the evening-or maybe just on you.

“Don’t kiss me,” you repeat, but this time it’s weaker, softer, almost like you’re trying to convince yourself more than him. He doesn’t move, doesn’t push forward, but he doesn’t let go either. His thumbs brush over your cheeks, so gentle it’s maddening. Your own lips are barely brushing his and despite what's coming out of your mouth you almost kiss him yourself. 

“You keep saying that,” he murmurs, voice low and raspy. “But you’re not pulling away.”

Your hands are still on his face, and it’s infuriating how good his skin feels under your palms. Warm, alive, familiar in a way that makes you want to scream.

There's so much nuisance in your bloodstream that you kiss him, ignoring whether he can respond or not. It’s not gentle, not sweet—just messy, desperate, and filled with all the things you can’t bring yourself to say. His hands tighten on your waist, pulling you closer, and the world narrows until it’s just him. Just you.

There’s no logic anymore, no reason, just the heat of his mouth, the scrape of his teeth, the roughness of his hands as they grip your thighs and push the hem of your dress higher.

Its decided then, by both of you, when your nails scrape against the nape of his neck desperately, that it's no use in denying each other. The feeling that use to dying both of you to pull away is faint now, reduced to something that resembles burnt out charcoal, ashes of a hateful fire. 

It's a whirlpool of emotions that's pulling you both in after that. It was a mistake to ever think it'd be okay you smoke with him or let him feed you, because your hands move on their own accord, pulling him as close to you as possible, chest heaving and eyes so heavy with teardrops that never dare fall. Your hands grip on everywhere and anywhere on his neck, face and hair that you can land them on. 

Every breath you take through your nose is hitched, like the sniffle of a crying session, but you refuse to part with lips that move in sync with agony. You forgot how good his lips feel on yours, you'll forget once again. Soon enough. 

For now, you block the angst of him and you away and instead, you feel dizzy like you're drowning. In an ocean so vast and dark that it's impossible to try and reach the surface for air. 

There's no word spoken, no other sound, no warning when his hands hitch under the skirt of your dress, angry and desperate to finish what he started when the two of you were dancing all this while ago. The pads of his fingers examine the band of your panties, as if they can tell the color just through that and for a second he stops kissing you, to hiss, breathe and whimper at how soft your skin feels against him. 

You run your fingers through his hair. A disheveled ponytail that finally comes to ruins is the outcome and his revenge is pulling your hips towards him, fingers laced between your panties, barely touching the skin of your ass. 

This time, you hiss. 

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You should. You know you should. This is dangerous, reckless, teetering on the edge of something you can’t take back. But instead of pulling away, you find yourself leaning in, your breath hitching in your throat.

“I’m not stopping you”  you admit, your voice soft and uneven. 

You kiss him.

That’s all the encouragement he honestly needs.

He pulls away from your lips with a smacking sound that's louder than the actual music and he tries, he tries to link his forehead against yours when smoking hot hands press against your tummy, just so his thumb can rub a painfully firm swipe across your throbbing clit and you don't let him have this moment in silence. 

You squirm at how delicious his touch is, and you're embarrassed that you feel this way about him still. Since it's just this time, you'll manage. 

You buck your hips into his thumb and squirm, your knees shaking like you’ve been hit by thunder. Embarrassment surges through you.

“Don't look at me” You whisper and throw your legs off the counter to stand on your feet. 

A hand on your waist and a furrowed brow is all that you get in response. After that, you're spun around the counter, released of any control in your own movements. Your right knee is thrown onto the counter, your neck is interlocked in his left hand, your back is stuck to his chest. 

He's smarter than you are, sometimes. 

You can feel how hard his heart is beating against your back, through tons of muscle. He's shaking, but you're not one to judge when you’re in the same position.

The fingers that held your knee against the counter top have already ordered your bones not to move and they're running up the side of your thigh. Grabby and needy as he is, he places a kiss at the crook of your neck when he feels the skin of your cheeks spill through his fingers. 

The departure of his hand upsets you only in the seconds before he gives you a small slap. 

You try to adjust yourself better against him so you don't feel your back hurting as you're stuck on him but it's no use, he applies pressure to your neck in response and hooks his pointer finger under your panties to pull them to the side. Your chest hitches a breath like he stole it from you. 

He's steady with his ministrations, catching some of your slick with his thumb from your entrance and drags it across your slit, landing to your clit, just to rub a few slow circles there. His lips find your shoulder and even though the stubble he has as a goatee hurts when it's poking you, the kiss he plants on your skin is hot- too sensual. 

He keeps rubbing circles against you, gradually introducing a few pinches to your clit when he traps it between his fingers. 

You groan and you yelp; it's unprovoked when his ring finger enters you, too sudden as he keeps rubbing you with his middle one. He's moving freely, in courtesy of how long and thick his fingers are and you're all but at his mercy. A whimpering mess that refuses to plead with him to move faster, or show him any ministration on how to please you most. 

He is aware of how to do exactly that. 

He is aware of every single detail; from how fast he can make you cum, to how much time he needs to prep you for simply the size of him, and you'd be insane to stop him now. One, because you'll die from your own lust if he leaves you empty even for a second and two-

“Fuuuck, don't stop” You whine, only because your head isn't working anymore, your thoughts are gone as he pulls out his finger for only a second. 

You don't see it, with your field of vision being a dark lit image of Sero's toaster on the counter you're on, but you listen to the sound of a finger getting sucked in Kirishima’s mouth. Albeit, you almost moan at the notion that he can't get enough of you. 

He works a second finger inside of you, introduces it with a few circles around your entrance and the sound of a hiss falls from his lips when he does so. He scissors his movements and everything applies pressure to that spot inside of you that has your knees shaking. 

That devious coil in your tummy is back, but now it's much lower, just under the spot where your skin is pressed on the edge of the counter. You're reduced to being a moaning mess of an orgasm that's building up, high off the feeling of Kirishima's fingers pistoning inside of you feverishly. 

He bites his lips hard enough to draw blood at the mere sight; but the faster he works to prep you, the worse it gets for him. His cock is twitching so hard between his legs, tugging uncomfortable at how it's tucked inside his underwear and cargo shorts. Every little moan of yours when he lazily flicks at your clit with the top of his pointer finger,  gets him impossibly harder, to the point he can't just ignore it anymore. 

“What are you-” You almost turn around to eat his heart out when he pulls his fingers out of you, so he can work on his button, his zipper, on the waistband of his underwear. Begrudgingly, your eyes rush to his side and you're too cocky with the anger of a ruined orgasm. 

Despite that, the sounds of his undressing, you respect. Until his palm grasps at the nape of your neck, to force your head to land next to the toaster again. 

“You said you don't wanna look at me, didn't you?”

His cock springs free, just as big and thick as you remember and not a single whine of yours is enough to make him get him to come closer. 

“I said,” You pant “I don't want you to look at me”

With one hand grabbing at his base, jerking himself slowly in a hammer motion, he lets the weight of him slap on your naked ass as he moves to completely bunch up your skirts around your waist. He ignores what you said as it's deemed impossible; there's no way in the whole world he will tear his eyes off of you right now. It's laced in his confession. 

“Fuck, I'm missed this view, so, don’t care. Don't look at. Me.”

You whine as his palms kneed softly at the soft skin of your ass, through layers of your muscle, thumbs so firm they're almost digging in holes on the two spots they've landed so he can spread you open even further. 

His cock moves like it has a brain of its own, leaving trails of precum against your ass and he thrusts his head across your slit a few and agonizingly slow times. You should speak up, tell him how much you love it, tell him you can just cum on the spot from just his cockchead rubbing against your clit like that but you don't want him to have that satisfaction. You don't need him to know he’s making you feel this good when he's barely done anything to you.He's cocky enough already, engrossed in his actions as his tip lines up exactly to your entrance. 

He teases you with his tip again, like he’s gonna torture you until you beg—which you’re not gonna do. Though your eyes roll to the back of your head at the sound of him slapping his dick against your folds. He slides against you again, hips stuttering out with a simple, muffled, motion of a hold back and just like that, when he’s spent on the feeling of squeezing his base so he gets even harder he lines up with your soppy entrance.

He slips right in. No warning, no effort. Your pussy pulls him in.

A guttural moan escapes you, coming from the depths of your chest as he thrusts his head in. The pain of being split open hits you like a wave. It hurts, like every single time you reconcile with him. You always forget that the girth and length of him are too much to not take in gradually. 

But he knows that too. 

“Babe,” he whimpers “Can I move?”

You wince at the desperation in his voice, the use of the nickname paired with it, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. ‘Babe’ how can such a simple word make your stomach twist into a knot? 

“Please-” It's nothing but a whisper, but it comes out of your mouth without much thought. It's needy and silent and full of guilt. 

“Oh fuck I like the sound of that. Say it again”

You hesitate for a moment, hips bucking towards him to take a little more in but he pushes your head down again. 

“Please Eijiro”

“Please what,” He pressures “say it”

“What? No!” 

“Then I could just pull out”

The sound of your mumbling is almost choked by his palm on your cheek, he's not letting go- he's not hurting you either- the pressure is just enough to get his point across because, frankly, the stuttering of his hips doesn't match his words. Had you not been pressed on the counter, you would have bucked away from him to teach him not to play boss with you. For now, you just whine as he pulls completely out of you.

“Eijiro- fuck, please”

“Fuck what?”

“Shit. Fuuuuck”

Eijiro presses his hand on your waist and pins you down, getting a hold of your hair in his hands—fuck, fuck, fuck, the word’s a mantra right now. Fuck it’s so hot, you’ve never even thought you could get this wet over a few motions. 

He growls when he yanks your head just a little upwards and your walls pulsate around nothing.

“Want me to turn you over and fuck your mouth? Huh?”

“N-no” you shake your head.

“Then speak”

You take a mental note; you’re going to chew his head off for this later on. When did Eijiro even learn how to dirty talk like that?

“Me! Fuck me, dammit” You hiss, cheeks are once again trapped between his palm and the cold counter. 

He places another kiss on your shoulder at that, giving your ass an encouraging slap as he chuckles. “There you go”

You feel the head of his cock press against your entrance once again, and despite yourself, you whimper. His hands squeeze your hips tightly as he begins to push inside of you, inch by slow inch. The burn of pain mixed with the heat of desire, making it almost impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins. You grit your teeth against the sensation, trying to ignore the way his cock stretches you open.

You’re so full if him that you could explode.

His voice is so low in his throat, so needy when he says "That's it, baby.”

Then be, once more again before he starts going at a steady pace, bucks his hips time after time, ever so slowly. Had you not been unadjusted to the shape of his cock by now you'd be screaming at him to go faster, but for now, this tortuous pace is as helpful as it's driving you insane. 

It's just the beginning, but the weight in your chest and your heart are starting to be felt. 

“Eiji” You say, eyes closing as you try to hold on to the counter top to no avail. He moans in response, rubbing his palm along the length of the leg that you've bunched up on the surface. 

You've no mind to consider the soreness you'll be feeling tomorrow, really. 

He tries to hook his other hand on your steady knee and you yelp, scared that you're going to fall, that your strength isn't enough to hold your weight in the strange position that you're in right now. 

“Let go of your leg” He pants giving the back of your thigh a few encouraging slaps “give it to me”

You slowly let go of your leg, exhaling shakily in fear of not feeling the ground under your foot anymore. Eijiro takes this as an invitation, his grip on your hips tightening as he helps you wrap your leg awkwardly around him just so he thrusts deeper into you. The sensation is almost overwhelming, too mouthwatering; you can't help but want to arch your back in response, despite being almost unable to.

Hick dick kisses your cervix with every movement, every roll of his hips.

Your breath, despite having been knocked out of your chest, with each of his thrusts, is loud, always conveyed into a moan or a yelp and that’s about all the encouragement Kirishima needs for his thrusts to source more force, more speed. 

His hips slam against yours in a rhythm that matches the pounding of your heart. You cry out in that delicious mixture that’s pleasure and the pain of him splitting you open, your body arching to meet his.

You are evil, sinister, malevolent for both you and him when you plead “Go faster”

He pants, half sober, half drunk as he digs his fingernails into your love handles and bottoms out again. Eijiro's thrusts quicken, his body shaking with the effort to keep up the pace. You can feel his cock pulsing inside you, head hitting every wall inside you as he drives deeper. Your breath comes in short gasps, and your body feels like it's on fire. This is new territory for both of you.

You've never had sex raw before, not even at the start of any session. So every time you squeeze around him, you can feel his veins and he can feel you get wet—wetter. It’s so sloppy, so messy, like it should have been happening all the time, like you two are made just for this.

Both of you whimper. Whether it’s the angle, the pace or the way he slips his hand, ever so subtly to rub lazy circles on your puffy clit, you absolutely cannot control your noises just as much as you cannot find it in you to care about whether you’re louder than the actual music on the party that's happening above.

You try and buck your hips towards him some more, yielding a moaned out version of his name in the process. Everything is just too much and you’ve never been this desperate to cum.

“Fuck babe, you feel so good” Kirishima hisses and your legs tremble 

“Yo-you too” 

“‘Pussy feels s’good, fffuck yeah work those hips for me”

You stretch your hand, in an effort to try to reach him, touch him. Anything to ground yourself to stop the shaking in your legs, but you ultimately cry out in disdain when he grabs your wrist to stop you, pining it on the small of your back. He holds it there for a moment, when his thrusts become slower, rougher, just enough to elicit louder moans from you before he finally lets go, running his hot palm on your back.

“Making me want to fuck you raw forever”

“Ei-” 

The only response you get is a whimper. Half lid eyes that look at your back with so much lust that it should be considered a sin.

You wish you could see his face, to land your eyes on that whiny expression that adorns his face when he’s inside you, but his hand is quick, too hot on the skin of the ape of your neck; he grabs your hair, lifts your head in the process.

“Take it” He whispers and you realize you haven't, in your dizzy state, even sensed him leaning on you to bite on your shoulder. The action alone makes you wince but Eijiro, ever so tender, immediately suckles the spot between his lips, hoping to soothe you, but your legs start shaking even more. “I'll give it to you slow then? ‘kay?”

“Ei” You’re so spent, so unable to call out anything other than his name, gooey walls clenching around him as his thrusts slow down even more. 

You’re so impossibly wet and tight, fluttering and squeezing and tightening around him. Mere seconds away from letting the beast that's gnawing inside you burst into existence. Like a flaming hot explosion. “'M gonna come” You manage to whisper and your stomach twists in an impossible way when Kirishima replies

“Can you wait for me baby, I want us to— fuck— come together”

And as much as you love the sound of that being whispered in your ear, you're not sure you can obey him. He feels that too, suddenly starting to quicken his thrusts while letting go of your hair, pushing it off your face. It's only now that he's so desperately chasing his own release, as you’re clamping impossibly around him, hips working faster than ever. 

“Can I cum in you? Fill you up?” The sound of skin clapping and your squelching with each buck of Kirishima's hips filling the kitchen. Hes’s frantic when you’re deprived of a reply, circling your clit, slapping it, gathering all of your mixed juices and rubbing at you again.

You yell out his name again like a mantra, your orgasm starting to blur out your vision as the top of his cock kisses all the right spots inside you. 

“Please say yes”

You moan.

“Say yes, wanna fill your pussy up.”

You moan again.

It feels so good— his hand on the small of your back, his scent, the notion that this is the worst thing that could happen tonight it all adds up to you finally coming to release all that's pent up tonight. 

—Clank!

From the corner of the kitchen, you hear a loud, unmistakable clatter, followed by the sound of rapid footsteps. Both yours and Kirishima's heads snap to the direction, his name being cut short from falling from your mouth as terror washes through both of you. 

White. 

Hot. 

A voice, too familiar, yells out in a burst of laughter and shock. 

“No fucking way!” Sero’s voice rings out, too high-pitched, way too obvious. “what the fuuuuuuck”

Kirishima locks eyes with him first, taking the first pinch of realisation in his gut, hands doing nothing of sort to shield any of you. There's no initial reaction that can be performed. He's just as deep in mud over this as you are. 

“Dude!” Sero paces his eyes between you and Kirishima as if to point out the profanity. Helaughs again, holding his stomach, never prying his gaze from the scenery in front of him “you guys are impossible. Get a room ‘cuz I want some more beer.”

Your eyes land on him, turn just in time to see his figure disappearing around the corner

heading straight to the direction he just came from, and you whine— both for your ruined orgasm, more so for the fact that you've been caught.

The wave of shame that should be washing over you is nowhere to be seen or felt. 

“No.” You don’t even realize you’ve said it until the words slip past your lips, but the panic that flares in your chest feels real. “No, no, no—he’s not— He's gonna tell— fuck!”

Kirishima swears under his breath, a hand running through his messy hair as he looks at you, his face caught between guilt and desperate frustration. “Shit—”

The two of you stand there, his cock still inside you, despite it starting to go limp, your leg still bunched around his back. Both of you too unsure of what to think, or do, in such situation. 

Seeing that the moment is ruined, that none of you have had enough self control to stop earlier or restrain yourselves, you lower your lifted leg to the ground. 

Kirishima takes the hint immediately. Patting your ass with both his palms for just a little leverage— like he needs it anyway and actually pushes out of you with a loud pop. He tucks his cock in his pants and zips them up in fast movements and actually makes an effort to make you look somewhat presentable too. 

Panties drawn to their initial position, even if they feel ruined and wet behind salvation, and dress smoothed nicely over your ass before he signs you to lift your head up. He guides you still, hand on your head, so you don't manage to land a hit at the cabinets over your head. 

For the first time in a while, you look at him again. He’s disheveled; red hair tousled and messy, lips burning a red as fiery as his eyes. There's a tiny remembrance of his quirk on the left side of his eyebrow. 

In an unfair and very beyond and out of character reaction for you, you reach to smooth it over with the tips of your fingers, pushing the red strands of hair away from the spot. He mumbles something that's beyond the realm of speech and you don't make an effort to understand as your hand slips to the side of his face, cupping his sharp jawline. 

You don't speak just yet, whether it's out of panic or because you're really not in a mental position to take in what just happened. Thus, you too, don't say a word when he brings both hands to your face. One to mimic your own hold, the other, to wipe some of the sticky residue of honey and some drool that has gathered in the corner of your lips. 

When your legs wobble on top of the heels that you just remembered you're wearing, the warmth of his hands on your face travels to your waist. It's only then that he talks. 

“Easy there, babe”

You let out a laugh “You did this to me, by the way”

“Well, I don't think I can hold myself when I'm around you. That's why I've been avoiding it.”

And that's exactly when it hits you. The party, Mina, every memoir of your past with him. You hate to be fucked silly to the point of no thought by him, never have an orgasm in his presence and then live in regret. You have to put an end to this. Mina was right. No one's gonna pick up your pieces ever again. 

You're looking dazzled, confused and out of your mind. The room starts to blur. 

You’re so out of words, it’s painful.

The tension hangs in the air as Kirishima grabs your hand, his grip firm but careful, and whispers hurriedly, “This way.” 

He leads you out of the kitchen, his eyes darting around the room like a predator looking for an escape route. You barely have time to register the shift in pace before he’s guiding you down the hall.

Your heart races—not just from the rush of adrenaline, but from the lingering haze of your interrupted moment. You’re still reeling from the intensity of it, your mind a chaotic blur of heat, panic, and something dangerously close to longing. Your hand, clasped inside his burns, like the very core of your being.

“Where are we going?” you hiss, glancing over your shoulder to make sure no one is following.

“Bathroom,” he mutters under his breath, his jaw tight. “We need a second of privacy”

Before you can protest, he’s already nudging open a door, ushering you inside with a quick glance down the hallway. The bathroom is as small and dimly lit as it was a while ago and the hum of the party muffles the moment the door clicks shut behind you.

The lock makes a noise of pure solace; Eijiro twists the key hurriedly but doesn’t pull it out of the lock. He opts to rush to you, even if you’re just a few literal feet away from him. 

Your poor heart is thudding. You’ve been cataclysmed with emotions of all kinds. The betrayal to your friends, to yourself even, the guilt of how a part of you feels joy, the panic of experiencing being found out. The embarrassment. Tears well in your eyes like silky beads. Head in your hands, you land on the semi wall of the bathtub and sit down. 

Eijiro follows, much dizzy and still high like you, and plops on the marble right next to you. 

He turns his head in your direction despite knowing full well you’re trying not to let the faucet in your eyes flood your face, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to stand there and watch you like this. He only does what he knows better. 

Huge arms are wrapped around you and he’s pulling you close. Part of you wants to beg him to let go, too afraid of what happens each time you’re in this position with him and your heartstrings are being pulled— despite your sniffles and in between your thoughts and your guilt you can’t find any strength to push him away.

You melt into his chest, the very second his palm presses your head against him. 

“Shhh” the redhead finally speaks “Sero’s going to forget this in seconds, even faster”

First and foremost and most foul of all, Eijiro thinks you’re only crying because you’ve been caught. That’s as much as you gather from his demeanor. 

“No, I-” Another wave of tears hits you before you get a chance to respond.

“Please tell me how can I help”

You loathe the fact that he sounds so willing. It’s the twist of the knife to your wound, why is he only willing when something’s in for…

“…you?”

Oh, oh no! You spoke that aloud. Cursing under your breath you decide you would rather swallow your tongue and die forever. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re still high, but had you realised sooner you wouldn’t have spoken this. It’s prone to cause turbulence.

“What? You really believe that?” 

There. There he is looking as confused as ever and he’s peeling you away from his chest just to lock eyes with you. 

“I just…” he pauses “I don’t know how to act, I’m sorry”

It’s… excruciating that he apologises over something he knows can’t be helped. Even when not intended to excuse him you just know he’s a person that reeks of insecurities, inner turmoil be damned and all, but so are you. Apologising for himself does absolutely nothing to you— he probably knows so as well.

But you breathe in his scent and his apology stops being one of manipulation. The man before you is nothing but himself. With roots such a deep shade of brown that just isn’t black, lashes that are full but not too long… he lacks in things that he’s so full of; Maybe if you had been more kind and understanding you and him would have worked. You wouldn’t have to cry in his arms after a catastrophic night. You wouldn’t get carried away by each other, rather, you’d get carried away together.

You don’t answer to him, but tears well in your eyes and they’re for him. So you cling onto his shirt and avert your eyes, not being able to bear another glance at him.

A few, new sobs in and he manhandles you onto him. You never protest —His lap is more comfortable than the marble, much warmer too. And you don’t need to be cool anymore.

“Baby” he whines and a hand is wrapped around your head, engulfing you in that huge bicep of his. His fingers linger on your face again but this time he holds you; one thumb brushes lightly against your wet cheek and the other wipes the teardrops that run down one of your eyes “Did I— Am I making you cry?”

You nod.

In response he kisses your forehead. A secret part of you wishes he’d never done that despite the fact that you find solace in the comfort.

“I’m sorry, I’ve made you cry a lot, haven’t I?”

You nod again.

This time he doesn’t continue on with words. He kisses your forehead again, then your wet cheeks, your nose, your eyes lids and your chin. You’re so lost in the moment, dizzy still. You lean into him, edging closer and closer to his face. Your body moves on its own against your better judgement.

“It’s not fair” you say as your lips hover right under his.

“I know”

Thus, this time, when you kiss, it’s not needy or desperate; it’s comforting. Your lips move in sync against each other and its numbing; his mouth feels just perfect against yours. He pecks your lower lip and you suck on his softly. 

Of course, you know that he knows. But neither of you pull away.

Kirishima's hands tremble slightly where they rest on your waist, like he's unsure if he should pull you closer or let you go before it’s too late. The way his lips move against yours—slow, deliberate, reverent—makes your stomach twist. This isn't rushed or reckless like before. It isn't an act of desperation or lust. It's something else. Something worse.

It’s a plea. A question. A confession.

And the moment you realize that, you break the kiss.

Your breath comes in shallow gasps as you stare at him, his forehead still resting against yours. His eyes—soft, carmine and burning all at once—search yours, waiting for an answer you don’t have.

His fingers flex against your hips, but he nods. “I know….” He pauses “I never got to tell you that I love you too”

Even if this confession is the end for him, he doesn’t let go. Neither do you.

You sit there, tangled together in the dim light of the bathroom, the party outside a distant echo compared to the roaring silence between you. His chest rises and falls beneath your hands, warm and steady, and for a fleeting second, you let yourself imagine a world where this could be simple. Where you could have him without all the chaos, the guilt, the inevitable heartbreak.

Αll you’ve ever wanted was for this to be your world.

“Then why do you punish me for it?”

Reality settles between you like an unspoken truth, thick and suffocating, making it hard to breathe, hard to think—hard to do anything but exist in this moment that shouldn’t have happened.

You’re nothing but truthful and honest. He’s punishing you because he loves you but you’re just no better —you’ve been doing nothing but the same.

Kirishima’s grip tightens just slightly, like he’s afraid that if he loosens it even a little, you’ll slip away completely. And maybe he’s right. Maybe you will. Maybe you don’t love him anymore and you have every right to. After everything he’s pulled, why on earth would you reciprocate his feelings?

Just take his heart and tip in two already. It’s either that or it’s just going to burst.

Your fingers twitch where they rest against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath them. It’s fast. Just as fast as yours.

You force yourself to pull back, just enough to see his face fully, to take in the way his brows pinch together in something like frustration. Or sadness. Or both.

You don’t trust yourself to speak. If you do, you’re not sure what will come out—anger, regret, longing. Maybe all three. Your words hurt more than a villain's attack.

But he speaks first.

“I don’t wanna let go,” he admits, voice low, barely above a whisper. “Not yet.”

The confession cracks something inside you.

You inhale sharply, closing your eyes for a moment before forcing yourself to move. You reach for his hands, prying them gently from your waist despite the way your entire body protests. He lets you, but his fingers linger, brushing against yours until you finally pull away completely.

The warmth of him is gone too soon, and you hate how cold you feel without it.

“Eijiro…” His name feels heavy on your tongue, like it’s not meant to be spoken in this way, not meant to carry this weight.

He shakes his head before you can say anything else. “I know” he repeats, but this time it sounds different. Defeated. And some stinky, dreadful part of you hates to see him this way.

You must be out of your head tonight—in a different dimension, this is another you from another reality. 

Kirishima is as surprised as you are, really. But your lips are on him when his eyes envisioned you leaving him cold, completely. 

After that, it’s clothes being thrown into bathroom tiles and the heavy sounds of kissing. It’s different from the one in the kitchen; there’s no fight for dominance, no physical rattling in battle. It’s just him and you, in the most uncomfortable spot in the world, naked, working together to walk on that tight rope that the love of you is.

This is the first time you’re making love. In sero’s bathroom. At Mina’s party. 

And you could die from how delicious it all feels.

It’s either that fact or something very guttural that’s gotten you feeling this way because the more Eijiro rams into you, the more you tighten around him.

Soft, gummy walls flutter around him, drenched in desire. It’s like you’re moulding the shape of him, every vein, every slope, every inch of him is moulded into you. And at the ache you whine your hips up and down, desperately, like you’re picking up where you left it off in the kitchen.

You’re finally aware that it’s summer again, when you realise your sweat is hot against your skin.

Kirishima holds you like he’s trying to convince himself that you’re real. That this is really happening. His hands wrap around you completely, like he’s got you in a headlock and you’re chest to chest.

You can feel his heartbeat once again, against the skin of your chest and it feels so animalistically intimate. Everything burns and you could just die. You could die like this, right here and right now!

The way your clit rubs on his navel eagerly, makes your whole body numb and in need of release. You set on screaming— his name becomes a mantra for every second passing.

Both of your hips work slow, in sync and he curses against the nape of your neck. You never make out what he says as you’re so drunk on him the second he starts placing open mouth kisses all over your neck.

You hiss in pleasure and your body jolts back—it causes Kirishima to twitch and tighten his grip around you, even now that your chest has departed from his. He looks at you like you’re a prey again; it’s one, two, three kisses on your neck before he travels lower, trapping the skin of your chest between his lips and teeth.

For better leverage, one of his hands grabs on your ass and guides you on your previously steady pace on him. You’re reduced to moaning, like a pornstar on set, when he hits it from this angle. His tip kisses the right spot inside you, repeatedly with an agonising pace and when you turn to look at him he’s kissing down your breast- right above your nipple.

The moment you lock eyes, he takes the hardened bud into his mouth and sucks. You can’t even rip your eyes away from him and oh my god you’ve never had your eyes open during sex like this. Not being able to shake the embarrassment of the action, you wrap your arms around his neck, his eyes still following your every movement, you plant a kiss to the top of his head.

The hand on your back turns as soft as good. And you hold, hold onto his neck like he’s any steady at all. Like the distance between you that closed the second you parted.

It’s all too much and not enough at all— his kisses on your neck and chest, the aching up and down and the sound of skin clapping. A coil forms at the lowest, deepest part of your stomach and you set on chasing it.

In a dazed state, you grab at Eijiro’s hair, right at the nape of his neck, just so he looks up at you and right when he does you kiss him, full force.

The movement makes both of you tilt to the back, but his dick slams inside you in such tremorous manner that you yelp into Eijiro’s mouth.

He moans too, feverishly, but moves his lips on yours. You dare to be the first to pull away, to lock his forehead with yours before you lean in for another kiss.

Again you depart with a smacking sound.

And then you kiss him again.

Through heavy breaths, you fail to acknowledge how long the two of you spend kissing like that, but your eyes wet again at the feeling of him.

He kisses your tears, like he’s trying to make them disappear, like if he presses his lips to your skin enough times, he can rewrite the stinging pain woven into this moment.

You feel him trembling beneath you, his hands gripping your hips like he’s trying to brand the feeling of you into his memory. And maybe he is. Maybe you are too.

Because no matter how much you try to pretend, no matter how much you tell yourself this is wrong, that this can’t be anything more than what it is—it doesn’t stop you from wanting it to be.

The tension in your stomach coils tighter, electric and overwhelming, your body moving on instinct, chasing the high you’ve been denied one too many times tonight. Every thrust, every kiss, every desperate gasp that falls from Kirishima’s lips sends you spiraling deeper into something neither of you can name.

You whisper his name, not as a warning or a plea, but as a confession to match his.

And he hears it.

Because his arms wrap around you tighter, because his forehead presses to yours like he’s holding onto you for dear life, because his breath hitches when he murmurs back, “I got you, baby.”

It’s too much.

It’s not enough.

“I love it when you cry for -huh- me” he says between jagged breaths, while he kisses the tears that are running down your cheeks— why is he getting unbelievably hard at them?

It feels like he’s kissing away every mess that you’ve both made, like he loves seeing you this broken for him and vulnerable.

Your body tenses, nails digging into his shoulders as you come undone around him, a shuddering, whimpering mess in his arms. And when he follows, burying himself deep inside you with a groan that sends shivers down your spine, you swear you feel something break.

Not your heart—not yet.

But something close.

You’re only ever aware of the digging of your nails on his soft skin, like you’re aiming to draw blood as that white hot pleasure bundles in you again.

It’s a few more thrusts too long when you come, a few more that are absolutely pushing it before Eijiro comes too. 

He comes inside you; hot, spurting cun paitining your insides and slipping down any gap that’s between him and you —impossible— and overflows with gravity, right onto his lap.

He twitches inside you. Once. Twice. 

Your breath is knocked out of you relentlessly as he fucks both of you through your orgasms, slowly.

You flutter around him, sore and even more right from the overstimulation. Eijiro plants a few more kisses to your numb jaw before he attacks both your lips with a smack. He hopes to soothe you, let you know that you can breathe now, that he can breathe, but instead you hyperventilate. His mouth has engulfed yours wholly.

You’re kissing like there’s no tomorrow, no next time and your hands run around each other’s body, roaming, grabbing, digging in skin until your skin is itchy and irritated. He bites your lower lip so hard that you think he’s trying to draw blood. And in response you try to part away from him. 

Your mouth is still linked to his teeth but when it slips away it remains that way, through a string of saliva— he falls apart on you shortly after, pulls you impossibly closer to him.

Eijiro’s breathing is heavy against your skin, warm and steady, grounding you in a way that feels more dangerous than comforting. His arms are still wrapped around you, holding you like he doesn’t want to let go, like maybe if he keeps you here long enough, the rest of the world won’t come crashing in.

Slowly, reality starts to settle around you like an unwelcome guest. The muffled bass from the party outside, the distant chatter, the fact that anyone could be looking for either of you right now—Mina, Sero, anyone.

You swallow hard and finally, finally, force yourself to pull back just enough to look at him.

His face is flushed, red eyes lidded, hair a mess from where your fingers had been tangled in it. He looks beautiful in a way that makes your stomach twist, makes your chest ache with something dangerously close to regret.

But when you move, he follows.

His hands slide down your waist, holding you like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers. Like he knows you will.

“Eiji” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes snap to yours, something raw and unreadable flickering in them. He knows what you’re about to say. 

“I wanna go home. I want you to come with me.”

“I know,” he says first, just like before. “Wanna hold you in my arms tonight”

But this time, it’s not enough.

Because knowing doesn’t make this any easier. It doesn’t change the fact that this—whatever this is—is bound to hurt you both in the end.

You take a shaky breath and move to get off his lap, but his grip tightens just slightly, like he’s debating stopping you.

Like he wants to.

“Don’t fucking lie to me” 

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he lets you go, lets you shift off of him even though it feels like something inside him is breaking as you do. And maybe something inside you is breaking too.

The silence is thick, suffocating, as you fix yourself—pulling your dress down your body, smoothing over the fabric even though it feels wrong now. You just want to be naked in his presence. 

Kirishima tucks himself back into his pants, runs a hand through his hair, but doesn’t stand up.

He watches you. Just watches.

You open your mouth, but no words come out. What could you even say? That this was a mistake? That it wasn’t? That it didn’t mean anything, or worse—that it did?

Kirishima exhales through his nose and rubs the back of his neck before finally speaking.

“I really want to. I don’t want to sleep alo— I wanna hold you.” His voice is rough, hoarse from all the things he isn’t saying. He’s chewing the words like anything could be taken wrongly “Say yes, just for tonight. Babe, you can hate me all you want tomorrow”

You nod, because that’s all you can do. You don’t want to hate him tomorrow.

“Kay then, imma drive, I think I’m good. You okay with that?”

You nod again.

Kirishima lingers for a second longer, like he’s waiting for you to take it back—to say you’ve changed your mind, that this is stupid, reckless, wrong. But you don’t.

When he finally moves, pushing himself up from the bathtub’s edge, you follow.

The party outside is still alive, voices rising and falling over the heavy bass of the music, laughter spilling through the cracks beneath the door. It feels too loud, too real compared to the quiet that had settled between you both.

Kirishima hesitates before unlocking the door, turning to look at you one last time, searching your face for something—permission, reassurance, maybe even regret. But whatever he finds, it’s enough. 

You just want to grope on him again, kiss him, squish his face with yours.

He opens the door, and the world comes rushing back in.

No one is standing outside waiting for you, no god of fury Mina, no traitorous Sero, no one watching with knowing eyes. But the paranoia still lingers in your chest, coiled tight as Kirishima takes your hand again, intertwining your fingers like it’s second nature.

When you step outside, the hot air hits you hard. You inhale deeply, trying to shake the tension that’s clinging to your skin.

Kirishima’s truck is parked a little way down the street, away from the cluster of other cars. His grip on your hand is steady as he walks you there, thumb rubbing small circles against your skin absentmindedly. It makes your chest tighten.

Once you’re at the passenger door, he lets go just long enough to open it for you, waiting until you climb inside before shutting it gently. You shoot him a glance that falls apart in seconds. You don’t need him to open the door for you, but the fact that he did because he wanted to.

Perhaps he cares for you as you care for him.

The driver’s seat creaks when he settles in, and for a second, neither of you speak. The air feels different now, heavy with something unspoken.

“You remember where my house is?” You ask, voice barely anything but a whisper.

“Yeah” Kirishima exhales slowly, his hands gripping the steering wheel like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. His jaw is tight, eyes fixed on the road ahead even though he hasn’t started driving yet.

You steal a glance at him, at the way his brows furrow just slightly, at the way his chest rises and falls in measured breaths. He’s thinking. Hard. And so are you.

The weight of what just happened—what’s still happening—sits between you like a living, breathing thing. It presses into your ribs, wraps around your throat, makes it impossible to speak.

But the silence that follows once again is unbearable.

So you say the only thing that comes to mind.

“Kiri.”

His grip on the wheel tightens for a second before he forces himself to relax. He finally turns his head, meeting your eyes with something unreadable. “Yeah?”

You don’t even know what you want to say. Do you ask him if this is a mistake? If it means anything? If it means too much?

Instead, all that comes -ever so raggedy- out is, “Drive.”

He nods once, turning the key in the ignition. The truck rumbles to life, headlights cutting through the darkness as he pulls onto the road.

Soon, the city stretches out before you, neon lights casting strange reflections on the windshield. The hum of the engine fills the space between you, but it doesn’t drown out the thoughts racing through your mind.

Minutes pass. Maybe hours. You’re not sure. Wasn’t your house a 20 minute drive from Sero’s?

You’re not sure, not quite sure until you arrive, when the lack of Eijiro’s hand on your thigh is unbearable.

The moment he locks his car, both of you move in a rush.

Practically running up the stairs to your apartment, tripping over each other in a frantic, heated blur. Lips, tongues, hands pulling, pressing, taking.

You barely make it to the shower before you’re both tangled up in each other again.

The second the door swings shut behind you, Kirishima’s hands are on you again—steady, grounding, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go.

Neither of you speak as you move toward the shower, exhaustion finally settling in now that the night is behind you. The rush, the panic, the guilt—it’s all faded into something quieter, something heavier. You barely fight for the space, stepping inside together like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The hot water soothes your skin, washing away the remnants of the night, but not the tension clinging to your chest. Kirishima stands behind you, arms wrapped loosely around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. His breathing is slow, deep, and for the first time in months, you feel yourself start to relax.

“You okay?” he murmurs, voice thick with exhaustion.

You nod, leaning back against him. “Yeah. Just a little sore”

“Mmm, I can fix that”

He presses a lazy kiss to your damp shoulder, his grip tightening just slightly before he exhales, long and heavy. Neither of you move to leave, letting the water rinse away the weight of everything; said and unsaid.

Fix what? The sound of your beating heart, or the ache in it for more of him? Both?

His hands wander, slow and deliberate, fingers tracing the curve of your waist before sliding lower, pressing warm and firm against your stomach. A quiet, needy sound escapes you when he reaches your thighs, his touch featherlight. His lips find your neck, dragging lazy, open-mouthed kisses across your skin, like he’s memorizing the taste of you, like he can’t get enough.

And then, just when your body melts completely into his, his fingers slip between your thighs.

The first touch is teasing, the softest graze of his fingertips against your clit and folds, but it sends a shiver straight down your spine and your lower stomach. You gasp, your head tilting back against his shoulder as he circles, presses, works you open with patience, practiced ease.

“Want your pussy on my mouth, right now”

The moan that spills from your lips in response is inevitable, breathy and wanting, and Eijiro smiles against your skin, his voice a quiet rumble against your ear before he presses another kiss to the spot that's closer to your lips.

He shifts you just so he can kneel before you and place a kiss to your aching clit. Your breath hitches as his fingers trace up the plush skin of your leg, slowly, just barely grazing where you need him most.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against you. He retaliates by pressing his tongue to your aching heat, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

“Eijiro—” His name slips from your lips in a breathless plea, but he only responds by dragging his tongue up again, his fingers sinking into your skin like he wants to claw your skin off. You hiss at the pain, but get high of the roughness of it.

One of his hands slides higher, palm pressing hard against your stomach before trailing lower again. He curls his tongue against you, circling it on your clit. He absolutely looks and sounds as if he’s devouring you. And you just can’t get enough.

Then, when he has you completely pressed against the wall, his fingers join the torturous rhythm of his mouth, slipping between your folds, teasing, pressing, pushing until your head falls back. Guttural noises swallowed between your thighs, his breath hot and ragged against your skin as he enters you with two fingers.

Dazed by how good it feels, you stop caring about the temperature of the water anymore, you buck your hips against his mouth. Chasing a release.

His licks get sloppy, his rhythm too and he opens his eyes to look at you. 

“Want you to come on my fucking tongue” he says between smacking sounds, like he’s drunk on you. 

He sucks your clit, licking at it again as he twists his fingers inside you. Your legs start shaking like earlier, but you don’t get embarrassed about it this time. Eijiro, as if he doesn’t want you to pressure yourself even a bit, shrugs his shoulder on your leg, signing at you to hook it over his shoulder. You do it, wordlessly.

This new angle has him feral on you. He nibbles and licks, either with the flat of his tongue or with the tip of it. 

You’re lost in the sensation, every nerve alight. You can feel the rawness in the way he moves, while he’s completely focused on you, as if the world has disappeared and it’s only the two of you left.

You jerk under his ministrations; it’s a warning. A telltale sign that you’re going to come soon.

And when you finally do—when your body tenses, then shudders with release—he doesn’t stop. He rides it out, dragging every last wave of pleasure from you until you’re left breathless, completely at his mercy.

Only then does he pull away, his lips slick, his eyes dark with something unreadable as he looks up at you. For a moment, neither of you speaks—just a silent understanding that passes through the air.

By the time you dry off and slip into bed, the exhaustion is impossible to ignore and he hasn’t fixed any soreness, if anything he’s made it worse, but you don’t dare to point it out to him. He plops onto your bed and pulls you close without hesitation, tucking you against his chest like it’s instinct, like it’s where you’ve always belonged. You coo into the touch, set on using the air conditioner for tonight, just so you can let him warm you up.

You kiss the middle of his chest, and he almost flinches at how soft the action is.

Eijiro’s fingers trace slow, absentminded patterns on your back, the warmth of his body lulling you into something dangerously soft, dangerously safe. You’re not sure you’re ever going to fall asleep without being in his arms ever again, but your kisses on his chest, his collarbones and neck, don't stop.

“You’re not leaving, right?” you murmur, barely awake by now. Desperate for anything that’ll let you be at ease to fall asleep.

His arms tighten around you. “Not tonight.” He says and he kisses the top of your head.

It’s the last thing you hear—or feel, before sleep pulls you under, his steady heartbeat the only thing keeping the rest of the world where he’s in, at bay. Just for tonight.

You’ll deal with Mina and Heartbreak Co. Tomorrow.

_______

When the morning comes you realise, you want to be domestic. Casual. Just like this.  

When you wake up curled under his enormous bicep, long red hair sprawled messily all over his chest, mingling with yours, with you, there's a false notion as to why he's here still. Though you can't dive into it right now, with your eyes begging you to shut them close again and the bigger part of your brain begging you to fall back asleep. But you can't..

That itchy corner in the back of your mind won't let you.

Because Eijiro is here. Holly fucking hell, Eijiro is sleeping right under you.

You've never seen him asleep -the time you slept on each other for a good 30 minutes doesn't really count- and you're itching to lay your eyes on him. To steal a glance, to imprint the image in your brain. To create a memory because you're not so sure youre gonna see him again after this, utterly convinced last night was a petty fuck to the result of being high and drunk at Mina's party. 

Then again that's Kirishima for you. 

But, despite the fact that you feel angst in your soul, looking at the way the sun reflects on his skin makes you think that anything he did last night is just so sweet of him. To give you a dose of something so addicting, just when you were getting over him. something to grab onto so you dont forget him, so you remember him. 

You're not sure you've slept this well in ages. You already know you'll spend endless sleepless nights staring at your ceiling wishing you could rest like this again, or maybe wishing you hadn't slept at all, so you could savor every single second with him.

You’re gonna miss this moment terribly and you know it. But then again, you'll miss something that doesn't exist. You crave days like this, their non-existence. It's what makes them more desirable. you want what you cant have and it's killing you. 

Your throbbing head and the heavy blanket that sleep is, condemn you unconscious again, the second you feel warm and safe once more. A heaving chest that won't stop hurting is nothing compared to how tiring the previous night has been—it's nothing before the continuation of that dream that you were watching. In desperation to continue it, you melt in the only embrace that makes you ignore the sunlight so you can fall asleep again. 

When Kirishima opens his eyes it's like reality comes crashing in. He pays little attention to you, such as to lift you off of him and stand on his butt, in search of his phone, nervously and just so keen on not waking you up still. 

‘Good morning’ you utter, so lightly that you're not really sure he can hear it, he's not sure you understand what you're uttering either. 

‘Good morning babe’ he smiles, lightly. 

There's a kiss planted at the top of your head and had you been awake you'd either coo at its healing properties or chew him out. Both of these outcomes are too scary for him though, but perhaps, one is more slightly manageable than the other. 

A quick ramming of your fridge for anything edible follows; He’s rushing to the kitchen after he kisses you, the rustling sounds dragging you from the edge of sleep. You groan softly, stretching beneath the warm sheets, but you don’t open your eyes. Not yet. You want to savor this—just a few more seconds of pretending. Pretending that this is normal, that this is real. That mornings like this aren’t borrowed time.

Kirishima hums under his breath as he moves around your kitchen, the sound of cabinets opening and closing filling the quiet space. You should probably get up, but instead, you burrow deeper into your pillow, inhaling the faint scent of him still lingering on your sheets.

Maybe you’ll just never wash them again, right? So they’ll smell like him forever…

You don't know how long you lay there, stuck in that limbo between wanting to hold onto this moment forever and knowing you can't. Eventually, though, curiosity wins. You shuffle out of bed, padding barefoot toward the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

He's standing by the counter, shirtless, hair messy, flipping through his phone with a piece of toast hanging from his mouth. The sight of him in your home, in your space, like this, makes your stomach twist. Because this… this is just what you want.

Domestic. Casual. Just. Like. This. 

He glances up when he hears you, grinning around the toast. “Mornin’ again, babe.”

You roll your eyes, ignoring the way your chest tightens at the nickname. “You found food?”

Kirishima shrugs, handing you the second piece of toast from his plate. “You don’t have much, but I made do.”

You take it wordlessly, biting into it as you lean against the counter next to him. Like he counts your bites for his own personal enjoyment, when you swallow your last bite, he’s suddenly leaning into you. Perhaps, for a kiss, if you would have it.

His movements are slow, deliberate—like he’s testing the waters, waiting to see if you’ll pull away. His eyes flicker to yours, searching, but you don’t move. You don’t stop him. You don’t stop him when he traps your chin between his fingers.

Instead, you hold your breath as he leans in, the warmth of him so close, the scent of soap and something uniquely him filling the space between you.

It’s not hurried or desperate, not like last night. This isn’t a kiss born from impulse or alcohol or the reckless heat of a party. This is something softer, something that lingers. Like those ones in Sero’s bathroom.

His lips brush against yours, featherlight, hesitant—giving you the chance to change your mind. But you don’t. You tilt your chin up, closing the distance, and the second your lips fully meet his, something inside you melts.

Kirishima exhales against your mouth, a sound almost like relief, like he’d been hoping for this, waiting for this. His fingers brush against your hip, not holding, just resting there, as if grounding himself in the moment.

The kiss is slow, unhurried, like he wants to savor every second. You let yourself do the same.

When you finally pull back, he’s still close enough that his breath ghosts over your lips. His eyes flicker open, warm, red as rubies and full of something you can’t quite detect.

You swallow. “What was that for?”

Kirishima grins, small and easy, like this is the most natural thing in the world. “Felt like the right thing to do babee.”

And when he leans in again, you don’t stop him.

“Don't call me that”

When he cocks his head to the side to look at you and he looks so cute at that, like a puppy, confused and with glimmering eyes, that’s when he laughs too, perfectly and and oh—you hate him by the way.

“Kay then” he kisses you and takes another bite of his toast before he chews his nexts words out “check your phone, Mina has been calling you non stop”

You groan, dropping your head against his chest for just a second before sighing and peeling yourself away. His warmth lingers, but the real world is creeping back in, persistent and unwelcome.

Your phone is face down on the counter, screen lighting up with yet another call from Mina. Just in time. You hesitate, glancing at Kirishima, who watches you with a strangely adorning expression, leaning against the counter like he has all the time in the world.

“You gonna answer?” he teases, nudging your hip with his, almost mocking the way Mina hip bumped him away from you last night.

Secretly, he wishes you don’t pick up. Just let him have a moment of comfortable silence with you.

You sigh dramatically, pouting, your shoulders almost drawn to your ankles, looking like a wet cat, before swiping to accept the call. “Mina, before you start yelling—”

‘Put her on speaker’ he mouths, but you ignore him.

“Oh, hell no!” Mina’s voice nearly bursts through the speaker, loud and full of chaotic energy. “Don’t you dare act like I wasn’t gonna start yelling! Where the hell are you? You left!—no text, no nothing! And guess who else was missing? Kirishima! Sero said he saw you and I didn't believe him and oh my gooood, girl, no!”

Kirishima snorts, completely unbothered. He steals the toast from your hand and takes a bite, cheeky as ever. You shoot him a glare, but he just grins and mouths busted over and over again.

“Relax, Mina,” you sigh. “I’m fine. I’m home. I just woke up.”

“Oh, I know you’re fine.” She gasps dramatically. “Wait, are you with him right now?”

You pause for half a second too long.

“You totally are!” Mina shrieks, and you have to hold the phone away from your ear. Kirishima just laughs, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. He towers beside you, tilting his head toward the phone. “Morning, Mina.” His voice is all lazy amusement, like he’s enjoying this way too much. Like he won.

“Oh, hell no, don’t ‘morning, Mina’ me! What the hell happened? Wait, don’t answer that—I don’t wanna know. Or maybe I do? Ugh! I’m having an existential crisis about your love life, what is this?”

You groan, covering your face with your hand. “Mina, I swear, it’s not a big deal—”

Mina’s voice explodes through the speaker, sharp and furious. “Are you kidding me right now?!  I was worried! What was I supposed to think when you just vanished with him?! I’ve been losing my damn mind trying to figure out if you were dead in a ditch somewhere?!”

Kirishima snickers, leaning in slightly.

“Ughhhhhh, I’ll see you later, Mina, Byeeeeee” you say quickly before hanging up, not giving her a chance to interrogate you further.

The moment you set your phone down, Kirishima is already grinning at you. “Busted,” he repeats playfully.

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms and pout. “I hate you.”

~All rights reserved: @/strawberry-nugget, 2025. Please do not copy, over write or steal my work.

Likes, reblogs and comments are all appreciated equally

[popfizzles]

are you / were you ever in the five nights at freddy’s fandom?

Okay, so at the cost of making an example out of you, anon; I'm going to teach everyone how to use the blog search function here on Tumblr.

Because I tag my posts very liberally for this exact reason!

I'll first teach you how to do it on Mobile and then show you the extremely easy way to do it on Desktop.

First, you're going to want to go to my blog and touch this magnifying glass at the top of the blog next to the name (I have a few more icons and such because I am the owner of the blog, but the magnifying glass should still be there).

From there, type in anything you'd like to see if I've ever posted about. We'll use your question; have I ever posted about Five Nights at Freddy's?

You'll get a few recommended tags at first, the tags I use a whole lot. Click the link it's made to search my blog for "Five Nights at Freddys".

From there, it'll show you a RANDOMIZED collection of posts I've made that MENTION the words "Five Nights at Freddy's". This is a good overview to see if I have ever done it at all, but it will often pull up very old posts and show them first. And it's not super reliable, sometimes it won't pull up anything at all.

Luckily for you, I am a person who tags my blog very liberally!!!

Scroll down and take a look at the tags of any of these posts.

Feel free to click any one of the tags here to get a CHRONOLOGICAL view of all the posts I've made that I have TAGGED the same way.

Here, you can look at the most recent posts I've made in that tag. You can look at general fandom tags, or if you're only looking for one character in specific, you can check that tag and only get art of them.

Now, this is WAY easier to do on desktop.

Because all you have to do is add "/tagged/<tag>" to the end of my url to get everything you wanna see!

As easy as that, you can get a good look at every post I've ever made that I've tagged as FNAF.

So I guess the short answer is, evidently, yeah, I've made some posts about Five Nights at Freddy's <:)

[suzyandthefox]

Of Smoke And Shadows: Chapter 1

We start our journey with one sad vampire and an even sadder little borrower.

No beta we die like men

Tag list: Ask to be added.

This story will be posted under #Of Smoke And Shadows

And under #OSAS

Intro post

Detective Lumen.

Snow, This is the first time I have seen snow since I can remember.

There's something about it that reminds me of when I was young and innocent, of days that passed long ago.

It gives me a bittersweet feeling, a certain warmth in my heart. I still miss those days, but it is no use lingering in the past.

I light a cigarette and take a deep breath as I stare into space. Even though the cigarette does nothing, the warmth and the bitter taste give a semblance of life to my cold body.

My brother always complains about how nicotine is deadly and that I'm risking my health, he keeps mentioning how people die because of it. And I always remind him that we aren't people.

Standing in the alleyway, I let myself get lost in my thoughts as I watched everything around me get coated in snow, like a mountain of powdered sugar, or a soft white blanket.

Then, I feel a presence, and I hear a voice, I was not alone.

"M..Mister? Mister?"

I immediately look around me, searching for whoever was around here and just spoke up, until I realize...

It was down... Down... At my foot.

Wait... What?

I squint and rub my eyes, for I could see a little brown blob tugging at my coat.

No, it wasn't a brown blob, it was a little... Person? Girl? A little girl, only about three inches tall!

The poor wee thing was looking at me in both fear and desperation, shivering in the cold, it pained me to see her like this.

She was a creature called a "borrower", a small person that lives in house walls and makes a living out of unwanted, forgotten things, hence the "borrower".

I have never got to see one as close as this, they are usually shy creatures that won't reveal themselves to a human, let alone a monster like me.

I figured that the poor dear was in a dire situation, and she reached out to me to help her.

Alas, I will try my best.

I think of where to take her, of course! Arsen would love to see her, he always wanted to see a borrower from a close distance.

So I reach out to take her into my gloved hand, And no sooner than when she was in my hand that she awoke from whatever daze froze her.

She immediately leaped from my palm and she was free-falling.

"Fuck!" I exclaim as I catch the rather reckless bundle in my hands and quickly tuck her into my shirt pocket, and I'm filled with guilt as I hear her weak, soft voice begging me to let go.

"Shhh, It's okay, it's okay," I whisper to the little one as I pat my pocket, feeling her curling into a small ball.

"Sleep now, I won't hurt you, just going to take you somewhere safe."

A few moments pass, and I only hear her breathing, so I assume that she is asleep.

I take another breath of my cigarette, then I realize that my supervisor will be upset about my slacking, as she only allowed me a five-minute break.

When I walked back to her office, she looked quite upset at me.

"Lumen! You are late! And that cigarette is still burni_"

"Shh_"

She is too loud. I raise my finger over my lips as a gesture for her to be quiet, then I decide to show her what made me late.

As I reach into my pocket, the little blonde woman eyed me with a skeptical look. I take out the borrower, and I carefully laid her in my hand, noticing how serene she was in her sleep.

Now that she is close and still, I take a good look at her.

She is a small girl, with a huge cloud of curly brown hair that falls behind her back and on her shoulders. Her freckles spread all over her face and arms like cinnamon, especially on her plump cheeks and little button nose, I can notice how pallid her face was, how she was covered in dust, perhaps it's a good thing that I found her.

Charlotte stares at me, then at the little girl in my palm, I see a smile forming on her face as she coos softly.

"Aww, Gosh! What a cutie! What a little darling!"

The way she gushed over the borrower was getting on my nerves. Humans tend to overreact to things, and it makes me nervous.

"And what are you doing with her?" She asked.

"I'm taking her to Arsen, He will know_"

"Don't! He will hurt the poor baby! He can't be trusted_"

"I was informing you, not asking for your opinion."

I tell her in a firmer tone. It looks like I went too far, as she was taken aback by that.

Then I see that look in her blue eyes, that dreaded look, and I thought we were getting somewhere.

Guess we were never there, to begin with.

"L..looks like it's the end of your shift! You are dismissed, Lumen."

I heard a soft murmur and felt the subtle movements in my hand.

Right, the borrower.

I slip the small borrower I nearly forgot about back into my pocket, and I turn back to the exit.

I take one last breath from the cigarette I held, then I throw it and crush it under my foot, Charlotte doesn't deserve a clean office.

====

I'm back at my apartment's door, my safe and familiar apartment.

I knock on the door, and the raspy voice of Arsen answers me.

"Who the fuck is it?"

"Who would it be?" I replied.

"I don't know, The fucking police? a fairy who managed to get my name? A loan shark I didn't know I was indebted to? "

"It's the police then."

I say as I put my keys in the lock and turn it.

Arsen is jumpy and anxious, the last thing I want is for him to shoot me, it will be very inconvenient to have a bullet in my head right now.

I look at my brother and I remember why he doesn't go out of the apartment, he was even more inhumane than I am, with skin as dark as night, sunken eyes, sallow cheeks, crooked long ears, and sharp crooked teeth. Arsen is described by some as a "Tall goblin", and with his strange posture and alert looks, he wasn't different from one.

He stood at seven feet tall, although he was always hunched so he always looked a foot shorter, he was wearing a bright white lab coat atop his equally colored suit. The colors contrasted with his skin and matched his eye color.

The place was as organized as always, although Arsen did not believe in a god, there were crosses and other religious symbols everywhere. I always thought this was kind of strange, but Arsen insisted that "spirituality wards off the supernatural, and it does not contradict with science nor what he believes."

"I have something for you," I tell him.

"What is it?"

After washing my hands, I

reach into my pocket to take out the small girl, to which Arsen's eyes widened.

"Put it in this cage! Quickly! And change your clothes and wash your hands! Who knows where you found it and what sort of diseases it carries!"

I nod to him and go to the bathroom to take a quick shower.

It all went down so quickly, one minute I was putting on a shirt and the next I hear Arsen coughing his lungs out.

And as fast as I could, I run to the kitchen and I open a cabinet that I mentally marked, taking out an inhaler.

Helping my brother to sit down, I put the inhaler in his mouth and aided him as he took a puff, then another.

For a few minutes, he was breathing and slowly inhaling, as I tried my best to calm him down.

"It's alright, Arsen, you are still here, nothing happened, you are safe with me."

"I'm here for you, I did not forget."

Over and over, I stayed nearby and spoke as quietly and as gently as I could muster, until Arsen could feel that he can breathe again, there is no wheezing in his voice, and the air was entering his lungs normally.

"I took my medicine, this wasn't meant to happen!" He panicked, shivering like a frail leaf in the winds of October in my arms.

"You did, Arsen, you never forgot" I reassure him.

"Then why did i"_

"The windows are closed, the apartment is clean, I showered and changed my clothing, my shoes are outside the door, you did everything correctly and I did too." I try to reassure him, again.

"I must have forgotten something! You must have done something! It could have been the door or_"

I present him with his own notebook, where his checklist was completed, I also point at the door, which I made sure was closed tightly.

"It doesn't have to be for a reason, You have frail lungs, that isn't your fault."

"Not everything has to be for a reason."

I look at the small girl in the cage, she was watching all of this with wary curiosity.

"What are you going to do about her?" I ask him.

"You do, I must recheck if I missed something."

I nod, and I take the nearest chair, I pull it and sit next to the glass cage, And I see a book that s open wide next to it, Arsen must have been studying her.

I get closer to her and I notice her eyes, she had big, chocolate-brown eyes that were staring up at me in both awe and fear. Humans already tower over her like skyscrapers, I can't imagine how I look to her.

I sigh and lower my voice.

"It's time we have a talk."

[blurred-lines19]

I uploaded this chapter last year, but I'm just now posting it here! I'm going to be doing this with the rest of them over the next couple of days :P

"One bite and five days are all it took for the world to come to an end. Nearly two months after an unexplainable, violent illness swept throughout the globe like a raging wildfire, after cities have crumbled to ruin and most of humanity has been wiped out, only a few survive. Some of those still alive are just trying to survive, while others are searching for an answer—a reason why and what caused people to turn into walking, cannibalistic corpses that decay but never seem to truly die. Now, a group of survivors—a dog, few adult figures, and a bunch of teenagers—search for a cure and must figure out how to live with the undead amongst them, and how to deal with each other as relationships strain and tensions rise."

†· Word Count: 2395 †· Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types †· Rating: Mature †· Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death †· Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Jason Grace/Piper McLean, Nico di Angelo/Will Solace, Hazel Levesque/Frank Zhang, Silena Beauregard/Charles Beckendorf, Thalia Grace/Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano †· Characters: Annabeth Chase, Percy Jackson, Leo Valdez, Nico di Angelo, Frederick Chase, Frank Zhang, Luke Castellan, Hazel Levesque, Jason Grace, Piper McLean, Grover Underwood, Juniper (Percy Jackson), Katie Gardner, Travis Stoll, Connor Stoll, Chiron (Percy Jackson), Will Solace, Silena Beauregard, Charles Beckendorf, Clarisse La Rue, Thalia Grace, Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano †· Additional Tags: Angst · Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence · Inspired by The Walking Dead · Title from a My Chemical Romance Song · Found Family · Bittersweet · Based on a My Chemical Romance Song · I'm so sorry · Everyone Needs A Hug · Hurt/Comfort · Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse · Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson-centric · Betrayal †· **First Person POVs** †· Rated Mature for strong language, violence, sexual references, etc..

Annabeth

I am so lost. Worst of all, I’m alone—with about twenty reanimated corpses chasing after me like they haven’t eaten in decades. (Based on the thick, dark red blood dribbling down their chins, though, I doubt it.) Despite my own desperate situation, I’m pleading and praying that Thalia, Luke, and Leo—all of them—are okay. How did we even get split up? We were all next to each other this morning, then—God, they all came out of nowhere.

The undead snarl and snap their jaws at me, showing their rotting, foul teeth—the insides of their mouths black and corroded, filled with flies and their larvae. The thundering of their clumsy, heavy steps gets louder and I snap my head back to see the growing crowd. I bite back a curse. My legs are throbbing and ache from the exertion, threatening to give out on me at any moment. Obviously, I can’t keep running forever. But I also can’t stop unless I want to get torn apart.

I’m reaching an intersection and take a sharp right turn. 

Bad idea.

My feet nearly slip out from under me as I scramble backward, running away from the cluster of walking cadavers and back the way I came. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the horde almost right next to me, snarling and outstretching their decaying arms toward me in a horrific embrace. My lungs sting as if I’m trying to breathe in hot, rusty air, the eye-watering stench of rotten flesh burns my nose as a half-decomposed hand claws at the back of my shirt, tearing a hole in it as I pull away. I yelp, forcing myself to push through the aching pain.

I turn another corner (thankfully, one without any ghouls), chucking some food from my backpack down the street as far as I can throw it, and slip into a shadowy, narrow alleyway, skidding to a stop. With my breathing ragged and unsteady, I have a hard time staying silent as I press my back flush against the hot brick wall, sweat running down my temple. Almost as soon as I step into the alleyway, the stampede of rotting corpses rushes past me, none of them appearing to have noticed me. For who knows how long—it’s hard to estimate time when you’re playing a lethal game of hide-and-go-seek tag—I’ve been rushing through Midtown, a labyrinth fallen to ruin, with only a few breaks (to say that I’m exhausted would be an understatement). And yet I still have a lot further to go to get out of here. Well, if I manage to. Honestly, I should be dead right now.

After listening for a minute or two, I exhale, collecting my wits before peaking around the corner. I sink to the dirty alleyway floor, a rat scurrying past me, and take a few minutes to catch my breath. As much as I want to rest here and not move for the foreseeable future, I need to get further away from the undead that are feasting on something—or someone—and completely ignoring the pack of beef jerky I threw. Rude. I take a quick swig of my water—quenching the dry, sandpaper feeling in my mouth—readjust my pack on my shoulder, and start walking down the alley, taking the opportunity to ease up a bit and give my legs a break.

After carefully walking a few blocks away from the horde, I found a safe place to rest and eat something. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until my stomach growled and scared the hell out of me. From my hiding spot behind the dumpster, I pull out the little bit of food that’s left in my bag: a grand feast of a fourth of my water and a sandwich. Go figure, I think to myself. Even though I tried to conserve my rations for the past few days, it was a pathetic notion, thinking I could manage, really; I hadn’t had that much, to begin with. 

How is this going to work?

After pondering it for a minute or two, I decided to only eat as much as necessary to keep myself from passing out. Almost a month into the apocalypse, it’s hard to find anything. Especially in the city.

While I was staring off into space, I failed to notice the low snarling from my right. I sharply turn my head, peeking through the crack behind the dumpster. I don’t see anything... A horribly mutilated face meets mine, gnarling and screeching as it tries to reach its arm through the small gap. I fall backwards and bump into the other dumpster behind me with a loud thud, but quickly stand up. The one got itself stuck, its skin tearing off its arm as it still tries to grab at me, except the three down the alley aren’t and are already making their way toward me. I turn on my heel and bolt, my pack unzipped and its contents spilling out.

Thankfully, I make it out of the alleyway.

On the other hand, after I make it out, I trip over a raised chunk of concrete on the sidewalk and go sprawling forward, a sharp, blistering pain shooting up from my ankle as it fails to turn with the rest of my body. The side of my head bangs against the bumper of a dusty red sedan, sending a rattling feeling throughout my body—I’m only vaguely aware of the sensation of blood on the side of my head. Stars swim in my vision, but I can’t blink them away. In my dazed state, I can see (and hear) the small yet approaching group and start hacking away with my bronze dagger, praying that I’m hitting my targets. One falls on top of me, but I push the heel of my hand against its gross, rotting forehead, trying to keep its snapping jaws at bay. I plunge my dagger into its rotten pumpkin-like skull and roll it off of me.

Did it bite my arm? God, no—please. I’m not sure. 

My vision inevitably clears and I manage to find my balance and stand to take down the last two undead barreling at me; I stab the first, my blade making a squelching sound when I pull it out and shove it aside as the second clumsily races forward. 

Closer... Closer... THUMP!

I step out of the way at the last second, shoving the half-dead man face-first onto the hood of the car. Grabbing it by its thin, greasy hair, I pull it back and bash his head against the car over and over again until its brains splatter the hood. Then the car alarm goes off. I let go of the man carelessly, limping to the driver’s side of the car. Locked. Damnit.

I feel something trickle down my lip. I wipe my upper lip with the back of my hand, only to see blood. Great. First, my ankle, then my head, and now my nose. I’m practically a walking “Eat Me” sign.

The setting sun glares at me, and I'm only now aware of the number of dead bodies lying behind me. If there were that many earlier, who knows how many will come out—especially with the blaring car alarm.

The world seems to tilt, and my body sways as a wave of vertigo washes over me. This isn’t good, I think as I cling to a street lamp for stability. Nightfall is coming, and I’m exposed here, out in the open. And in the middle of Manhattan, to boot. Just my luck. Turning my head as quickly as it will let me, I look for somewhere to hide for the night. 

I can hardly think straight... The sudden urge to vomit overwhelms me, but I choke it back down. No. Please, please, please, not now. If I got bit I swear— No. I’ve got to get a grip. ‘Panic’ is not in my vocabulary. ‘Logic’ is, however, and I need to use that right now. I make a mental note of it: Plan now, panic later.

First things first, I need to find shelter and then deal with my injuries. A barricaded apartment building catches my eye. It looks safe enough. Well, for the most part. There are a few broken windows and boards torn off and chunks of brick missing. Other than that, however, it appears pretty much untouched compared to everything else. It’s not my brightest idea, but I only have two options in my concussed state: stay in the open street, or go into the decimated apartment building, which may or may not be inhabited by the living dead.

I look both ways—fuck, I feel awful—catching a glimpse of three ghouls down the street. Since they have likely been dead since the start, their vision should be terrible. Still, to be safe, I jog across the road (more like hobble, given the state of my ankle), hiding behind various objects until I’m sure the coast is clear.

When I make it to the apartment, I only hesitate for a moment before crawling under a wooden board.

†††

I grip the railing as I begin ascending another flight of stairs, my knuckles white and palms clammy. My footfall echoes throughout the stairwell and I cringe with each step as the sound bounces from wall to wall. Could they be any quieter? Every breath sounds louder than it probably is and my footsteps thunder against the metal stairs. Having said that though, I haven’t seen or heard anything in the ten minutes I’ve been in here, so that’s a good sign.

I hope.

A white-hot fire burns in my legs, snaking its way up from my ankles to my hips. I haven’t had a chance to look at it, but I can already tell I hurt my ankle pretty bad.

Finally, I reach the third floor. (The stairs weren’t too bad, but with the condition I’m in, it was absolutely exhausting.) A dirty window at the end of the hallway allows the dim, fading sunlight to shine through as the only source of light. It looks, well, abandoned; papers, trash, clothes, and broken glass are scattered through the hallway with dried blood everywhere. On the walls and the floor, really the only sign that there were ever people here. A child’s toy is laying on a dark—almost black—stain on the floor, covered with so much blood that it took me a minute to figure out what it was.

I shiver at the sight, my skin crawling, and quickly avert my eyes to the woman dressed in a dirty, torn green dress appearing in the hall. I almost call out but stop myself. The undead woman doesn’t notice my presence, going straight for the apartment a few doors down from me, and thumps her head against the door like a bird flying into a closed window. Certainly not the brightest of the bunch. She continues to try to walk through the closed door, which would be almost comedic if it wasn’t such a melancholic and dangerous situation. That woman was alive at one point; now, she has been degraded to a walking corpse. All that noise is going to attract any more that might be in here, though...

I walk towards her, carefully side-stepping the clutter on the floor, and sneak up behind her. When the half-dead woman with dull, cloudy eyes notices me it's too late. As she starts to turn around, I silently plunge my dagger up the nape of her neck and out as her body falls to the floor with a muffled thud. I frown at the sad sight and drag her out of the way.

The fact that (other than the one I just killed) there are no undead nags in the back of my mind, but what intrigues me more is the question of who or what is in that apartment. It might be stupid—extremely stupid—but it seemed like there was something in that apartment that she was trying to get to, which could be either a good or a bad sign. Best case scenario: it's empty and the dead woman was acting off of what is left of her muscle memory. Worst case scenario: undead dwell inside, eagerly waiting to tear me apart.

I press my ear to the door and listen carefully for any noise. Surprisingly, it's eerily quiet. No ragged breathing or shuffling sounds. No groaning or moaning.

Nothing.

Now that I think about it, I haven't heard anything other than myself. I'm still strongly against the idea of just waltzing into a random room, but I'm about to punch a wall if I can't find somewhere to sleep for the night. Right then, an idea pops into my head. I test the doorknob and, sure enough, it's locked. I wriggle the door knob rather loudly, waiting for something to happen. But nothing comes.

Deciding that it seems okay, I pick the lock and nudge the door to the dark room open, closing and locking it behind me. After my eyes adjust to the lighting (or the lack thereof) I scan the room cautiously. The apartment is in a state of disarray, yet spotless compared to the bloody and chaotic mess outside; an armchair in the corner overturned, stuffing spilling out of a tear in the upholstery, water dripping from a leak in the ceiling somewhere, broken and dismantled furniture spread across the room. It feels empty, yet also lived in. I swear I hear something attempting to get in, then I realize it’s just a mouse. I let out a shaky breath and try to shrug it off, narrowing it down to paranoia and exhaustion. I’m too tired to defend myself at this point. The door is locked, and there isn’t anything in here—I’m somewhat safe, for now. If I can make it through tonight, I can make a plan in the morning and figure a way out of this stupid goddamn city.

Right as I get myself calmed down, though, the atmosphere shifts. Suddenly, the air feels denser. Heavier.

Something is wrong. 

The hairs on the back of my neck prick up, sending a chill through me. Before I can turn around, I hear the sound of a gun cock behind me.

“Don’t give me a reason to shoot you.”

Read on archiveofourown.org <3

[thepatchycat]

hellooo! 👋

i hope it as okay to tag you in the WIP game!!! 😅😅 you have so many cool projects underway!!

I would love to hear more about your Defiance series! Side stories and spin offs?! What a world you must be creating! 🤩

thanks and have a lovely day !!☀️

Certainly! :D I don't always respond to tag games, but I do always appreciate being tagged in them. This one especially makes for a nice excuse to ramble about projects, and I'm delighted to talk about Defiance~

I'm pretty sure Defiance (the main fic) is the second fanfiction I've ever worked on in earnest and also my first and only longfic (not counting some sort of journal thing for Pokemon X I think I started many years ago, as I quickly lost interest in that project; otherwise, I hadn't really tried my hand at writing fic until 2020, despite reading it for much longer). Back in early 2021, with far too much time on my hands and having recently finished binge-watching all of The Clone Wars TV show, I felt very strongly that Fives needed to live and everyone deserved a happier ending, so I started planning a fix-it (actually the idea may have begun cooking back even before I finished the show, but February 2021 is apparently when I created the first doc).

It, uh, spiraled a little.

The planning/notes document is currently sitting at 102 pages (~46k words) of loose outline, worldbuilding notes, character notes, media notes, etc. The fic document itself is at 127 pages (~49k words) of stuff ranging from rough outline to fully written chapters and outtakes. There is also a Sheets file with timelines so I can track who is where, and when. The Sidestories doc is for ideas that would probably take place during Defiance but not be part of the more central plot, like bonus side chapters, and the Spin-offs doc is for other fic ideas that would take place in the same universe—some of which have graduated to their own documents. Though I've not been making consistent progress in the actual writing and have a very long way to go, I am lost in this sauce.

Anyway, the general plot of Defiance is as follows: unbeknownst to Palpatine and the general public, a timely intervention saves Fives' life. This allows him to actually explain himself to the Jedi, who along with the clones investigate the chips further and work behind the scenes to prevent Order 66 from happening while trying to figure out how to take down who's behind it. Critically, despite their suspicions they do not have hard evidence of Palpatine's involvement, so most events parallel canon up through ROTS with the investigation/preparation taking place discreetly, until the train hops off the rails to avoid sailing off the cliff.

If you'd like a sneak peak snippet, here's the first page or so of the main fic below the cut!

Something is wrong. The Force is muddled with a constant and indistinct unease, as it has been for years now—moreso on Coruscant than anywhere else, to Shaak Ti's perceptions. Its warnings are difficult to discern with any specificity. Even so, it murmurs them now. And Shaak possesses her own instincts, enhanced by the Force but extant outside her connection to it; these, too, whisper to her that something is wrong, as she watches Knight Skywalker leave the Jedi Temple conference room to find Captain Rex and investigate the situation with Fives. They are the best fit to track him down and the most likely to confront the rogue clone without further violence. Shaak warned Skywalker that Fives has been acting differently without his chip, that he may not be the man they knew—though she herself is reluctant to believe it—and the Knight and Captain are plenty capable of handling themselves. They will be all right. Still, something is wrong in a way she cannot yet define, and so Shaak Ti decides to join the hunt. Since the Jedi have not been asked to search for Fives, she does not contact the Coruscant Guard when she leaves the Temple. Instead she steps out of the building, pulls up the hood of her cloak, and makes for one of the speeder bikes kept at the Temple for general use. It whirs to life under her hands, and she rides to the nearest transportation portal leading down into the undercity. As she descends, passing speeders of all makes and sizes, Shaak Ti considers what she knows. She is well aware of her own struggles in becoming emotionally attached to the clones; her role on Kamino requires her to balance her care for them as people with the need to defend the galaxy. But many of them, such as Domino Squad, inevitably leave an impression. She watched Echo and Fives grow from bickering cadets to determined protectors, some of the best of their brothers. Her belief in their character during their final tests had not been misplaced. And yet, over these past few days Fives repeatedly defied the Kaminoan doctors, removed his chip, claimed something about a conspiracy, then attacked the Chancellor and fled. Shaak cannot deny these facts, and she must not allow personal feelings to cloud the truth. Then there are the Kaminoans. Shaak clashes frequently with their attitudes toward the clones, the way they view them as products rather than sentients. Nala Se’s arguments for terminating Tup and assurance that the chips are not a problem fall in line with her position as a manufacturer. And Shaak is well aware that the Kaminoans have not shared all of their secrets with her, as she is not owed them. But the medical scientist's resistance had been… spirited. None of this paints a clear picture. As they concluded in the meeting back at the Temple, the Jedi need more information. The familiar sound of a military engine hums past, and Shaak turns her head to watch a pair of gunships heading down the portal through one of the military lanes. She swerves out of the civilian traffic and dives after them, further and further below the surface of the city.

[thomas-mvller]

Tag games variety ✨

SO I've been tagged in a looot of games for the past couple of months and i've finally decided to stop procrastinating and just get the job done. APOLOGIES FOR THE DELAY!

Tagging: @youknowitsworthfightingfor @thommi-tomate @miasanmuller @gxtzeizm @acrazybayernfan and whoever would like to do one of these! just say i tagged you and go :))

Here we go!

Rules: bold the sentence that's true to you

i’m over 5'5 / i wear glasses or contacts / i have blonde hair / i often wear sweatshirts / i prefer loose clothing over tight clothes / i have one or two piercings / i have at least one tattoo / i have blue eyes / i have dyed or highlighted my hair / i have or have had braces / i have freckles / i paint my nails / i typically wear makeup / i don’t often smile / resting bitch face / i play sports / i play an instrument / i know more than one language / i can cook or bake / i like writing / i like to read / i can multitask / i’ve never dated anyone / i have a best friend i’ve known for over five years / i am an only child

/////

Rules: Go to Pinterest and search:

"Celebrity".

"Outfit".

"Quote".

"Aesthetic".

Quote the first pic that appears, it's your vibe.

I thought this was fun because it fit like a glove but then it hit me I don't have a pinterest account and this is absurdly specific so HMMMMM

/////

Last song: I live to fall asleep - Manic street preachers

Favorite color: red, black and teal

Last movie: Irma la douce (1963)

Last TV show: I'm more of a movie girlie tbh, can't even remember the last show i watched :o

Relationship status: single

Sweet/Savory/Spice: savory > spice > salty >>>>>>> sweet

Last thing I googled: if I could put grapes with seeds on the blender JAJAJJA

Current obsession: scary games gameplays on ytb. I don't even play videogames but they're fun!

/////

Rules: ✨Let’s do something fun! I wanna see the top 6 photos of your fave, these are mine! ✨

I've said it once and i'll say it again: "legend" falls short with my king 👑

/////

Okay so I was tagged to share 9 of my favorite books and please don't hate me for this but I'm not really a reader??? I mean i do read once in a while but I don't think I could write down a list of favourites, let alone nine 😵 now don't hate me again but to make it up I'll list 9 of my favorite book based movies hehe

gerald's game (2017) - adapted from a 1992 novel by stephen king

metropolis (1927) - adapted from a 1925 science fiction novel by thea von harbou

silence of the lambs (1991) - adapted from a 1988 novel by thomas harris

lord of the rings: the two towers (2002) - based on 1954's The Two Towers, the second volume of the novel The Lord of the Rings by J. R. R. Tolkien (copied from wiki hehe)

kiki's delivery service (1989) - based on the 1985 novel of the same name by eiko kadono

jackie brown (1997) - based on a 1992 novel by elmore leonard

freaky friday (2003) - based on a 1972 novel by mary rodgers

to kill a mockingbird (1962) - based on a 1960 novel by horton foote

when marnie was there (2014) - based on a 1967 novel by joan g. robinson

/////

Cosmic Persona Quiz 💫💫

Link to the quiz

I think this wasn't the right time to take this quiz because at the moment i am indeed living on the edge HOWEVER i disagree with flattery because i hate compliments JAJAJJA but anyway this was cute!

/////

little cute tag game 🥹

Here's what I've made 🫶

I am so framing this omggg

/////

Rules: list five songs you've been vibing with lately

When the lights go out - naked eyes

Taxi to heaven - pray for rain

Arrows and eyes - noriko miyamoto

baker street - undercover

kimi ni mune kyun - yellow magic orchestra

Have a nice weekend everyone! 😊

[hopewriteszstuff]

Chapter 1: Detective Lumen.

Tags: @the-ellia-west (check the pinned post for synopsis and stuff)

Snow, This is the first time I have seen snow since I can remember.

 

There's something about it that reminds me of when I was young and innocent, of days that passed long ago.

It gives me a bittersweet feeling, a certain warmth in my heart. I still miss those days, but it is no use lingering in the past.

 

I light a cigarette and take a deep breath as I stare into space. Even though the cigarette does nothing, the warmth and the bitter taste give a semblance of life to my cold body.

 

My brother always complains about how nicotine is deadly and that I'm risking my health, he keeps mentioning how people die because of it. And I always remind him that we aren't people.

 

Standing in the alleyway, I let myself get lost in my thoughts as I watched everything around me get coated in snow, like a mountain of powdered sugar, or a soft white blanket.

 

Then, I feel a presence, and I hear a voice, I was not alone.

 

"M..Mister? Mister?"

 

I immediately look around me, searching for whoever was around here and just spoke up, until I realize...

 

It was down... Down... At my foot.

Wait... What?

I squint and rub my eyes, for I could see a little brown blob tugging at my coat.

 

No, it wasn't a brown blob, it was a little... Person? Girl? A little girl, only about three inches tall!

 

The poor wee thing was looking at me in both fear and desperation, shivering in the cold, it pained me to see her like this.

 

She was a creature called a "borrower", a small person that lives in house walls and makes a living out of unwanted, forgotten things, hence the "borrower".

 

I have never got to see one as close as this, they are usually shy creatures that won't reveal themselves to a human, let alone a monster like me.

 

I figured that the poor dear was in a dire situation, and she reached out to me to help her.

 

Alas, I will try my best.

 

I think of where to take her, of course! Arsen would love to see her, he always wanted to see a borrower from a close distance.

 

So I reach out to take her into my gloved hand, And no sooner than when she was in my hand that she awoke from whatever daze froze her.

 

She immediately leaped from my palm and she was free-falling.

"Fuck!" I exclaim as I catch the rather reckless bundle in my hands and quickly tuck her into my shirt pocket, and I'm filled with guilt as I hear her weak, soft voice begging me to let go.

 

"Shhh, It's okay, it's okay," I whisper to the little one as I pat my pocket, feeling her curling into a small ball.

 

"Sleep now, I won't hurt you, just going to take you somewhere safe."

 

A few moments pass, and I only hear her breathing, so I assume that she is asleep.

 

I take another breath of my cigarette, then I realize that my supervisor will be upset about my slacking, as she only allowed me a five-minute break.

 

When I walked back to her office, she looked quite upset at me.

 

"Lumen! You are late! And that cigarette is still burni_"

"Shh_"

She is too loud. I raise my finger over my lips as a gesture for her to be quiet, then I decide to show her what made me late.

 

As I reach into my pocket, the little blonde woman eyed me with a skeptical look. I take out the borrower, and I carefully laid her in my hand, noticing how serene she was in her sleep.

 

Now that she is close and still, I take a good look at her.

 

She is a small girl, with a huge cloud of curly brown hair that falls behind her back and on her shoulders. Her freckles spread all over her face and arms like cinnamon, especially on her plump cheeks and little button nose, I can notice how pallid her face was, how she was covered in dust, perhaps it's a good thing that I found her.

 

Charlotte stares at me, then at the little girl in my palm, I see a smile forming on her face as she coos softly.

"Aww, Gosh! What a cutie! What a little darling!"

The way she gushed over the borrower was getting on my nerves. Humans tend to overreact to things, and it makes me nervous.

 

"And what are you doing with her?" She asked.

"I'm taking her to Arsen, He will know_"

"Don't! He will hurt the poor baby! He can't be trusted_"

 

"I was informing you, not asking for your opinion."

 

I tell her in a firmer tone. It looks like I went too far, as she was taken aback by that.

 

Then I see that look in her blue eyes, that dreaded look, and I thought we were getting somewhere.

 

Guess we were never there, to begin with.

 

"L..looks like it's the end of your shift! You are dismissed, Lumen."

 

I heard a soft murmur and felt the subtle movements in my hand.

Right, the borrower.

I slip the small borrower I nearly forgot about back into my pocket, and I turn back to the exit.

 

I take one last breath from the cigarette I held, then I throw it and crush it under my foot, Charlotte doesn't deserve a clean office.

 

====

 

I'm back at my apartment's door, my safe and familiar apartment.

I knock on the door, and the raspy voice of Arsen answers me.

 

"Who the fuck is it?"

 

"Who would it be?" I replied.

 

"I don't know, The fucking police? a fairy who managed to get my name? A loan shark I didn't know I was indebted to? "

 

"It's the police then."

 

I say as I put my keys in the lock and turn it.

 

Arsen is jumpy and anxious, the last thing I want is for him to shoot me, it will be very inconvenient to have a bullet in my head right now.

 

I look at my brother and I remember why he doesn't go out of the apartment, he was even more inhumane than I am, with skin as dark as night, sunken eyes, sallow cheeks, crooked long ears, and sharp crooked teeth. Arsen is described by some as a "Tall goblin", and with his strange posture and alert looks, he wasn't different from one.

 

He stood at seven feet tall, although he was always hunched so he always looked a foot shorter, he was wearing a bright white lab coat atop his equally colored suit. The colors contrasted with his skin and matched his eye color.

 

The place was as organized as always, although Arsen did not believe in a god, there were crosses and other religious symbols everywhere. I always thought this was kind of strange, but Arsen insisted that "spirituality wards off the supernatural, and it does not contradict with science nor what he believes."

 

"I have something for you," I tell him.

"What is it?"

After washing my hands, I

reach into my pocket to take out the small girl, to which Arsen's eyes widened.

 

"Put it in this cage! Quickly! And change your clothes and wash your hands! Who knows where you found it and what sort of diseases it carries!"

 

I nod to him and go to the bathroom to take a quick shower.

 

It all went down so quickly, one minute I was putting on a shirt and the next I hear Arsen coughing his lungs out.

 

And as fast as I could, I run to the kitchen and I open a cabinet that I mentally marked, taking out an inhaler.

 

Helping my brother to sit down, I put the inhaler in his mouth and aided him as he took a puff, then another.

 

For a few minutes, he was breathing and slowly inhaling, as I tried my best to calm him down.

 

"It's alright, Arsen, you are still here, nothing happened, you are safe with me."

 

"I'm here for you, I did not forget."

Over and over, I stayed nearby and spoke as quietly and as gently as I could muster, until Arsen could feel that he can breathe again, there is no wheezing in his voice, and the air was entering his lungs normally.

 

"I took my medicine, this wasn't meant to happen!" He panicked, shivering like a frail leaf in the winds of October in my arms.

 

"You did, Arsen, you never forgot" I reassure him.

"Then why did i"_

"The windows are closed, the apartment is clean, I showered and changed my clothing, my shoes are outside the door, you did everything correctly and I did too." I try to reassure him, again.

 

"I must have forgotten something! You must have done something! It could have been the door or_"

I present him with his own notebook, where his checklist was completed, I also point at the door, which I made sure was closed tightly.

 

"It doesn't have to be for a reason, You have frail lungs, that isn't your fault."

"Not everything has to be for a reason."

 

I look at the small girl in the cage, she was watching all of this with wary curiosity.

 

"What are you going to do about her?" I ask him.

"You do, I must recheck if I missed something."

 

I nod, and I take the nearest chair, I pull it and sit next to the glass cage, And I see a book that s open wide next to it, Arsen must have been studying her.

 

I get closer to her and I notice her eyes, she had big, chocolate-brown eyes that were staring up at me in both awe and fear. Humans already tower over her like skyscrapers, I can't imagine how I look to her.

I sigh and lower my voice.

 

"It's time we have a talk."

[pepperony3000-archive]

Wait, are you anti Carol Danvers?

Oh good grief… I was afraid this would happen.

Okay to start this off:

1) I am not anti Carol Danvers

2) I am a woman.So please do not accuse me of being a whiny fanboy or something just because I’m daring to be even slightly critical of Carol, okay? Okay?

Okay, now that we’ve got that out of the way.

I am not anti Carol in the sense that I don’t want her in the MCU. But I do not hold her up as the be-all end-all and think I that the presentation of her is incredibly flawed.On that note, I also LOATHE how the fandom worships her to the extent that she can do no wrong, and anybody who dare criticise her (or Brie) in any way is actually the Devil Incarnate™.

Issue #1: She is too young

In my opinion they should have cast a much older actress in the role, if only because her iconic romance in the comics is with RHODEY, who is played by 54-year-old Don Cheadle.But apparently Captain Marvel, the most powerful superhero, can only be played by a 25-year-old (that’s how old she was when cast). 

That is honestly just as bad to me as Whedon insisting that the 26-year-old Elizabeth Olsen with her cleverly displayed cleavage was actually only 15 years old.And I adore Lizzie, even though I also have some issues with Wanda’s character (which I 1000000% blame on Whedon btw), but her supposedly being 15 in Age of Ultron was just… very infantilizing. 

And I really thought Marvel would have done better than that with Captain Marvel.I really thought we were going to finally get a badass superhero who is “past her prime”, and close to (or even over) 40. (@ Marvel, please don’t let me down with Janet Van Dyne. She is my girl and I want more of her). But no. We had to get someone in her 20s.

So yes, my first major issue with Carol is she is just too young. 

I would have KILLED to get Emily Blunt, Anna Torv, Lauren Cohen, or Miranda Otto in the role. Actually, if Michelle Pfieffer had been cast as Carol (even though she’s the most perfect Jan EVER) I might have died on the spot.And honestly? I’m still hoping we’ll see a grown up Monica show up played by Rutina Wesley and she’ll take over the Captain Marvel mantle on earth while Carol is off doing stuff in space. (somebody get on that please? Give me Rutina Wesley as Monica Rambeau asap).

Issue #2: and this is going to be the one that’s gonna get me a shitton of anon hate I don’t think Brie Larson was right for the role

Carol Danvers is supposed to be a very commanding and imposing presence, and while Brie is a good actress I don’t think she’s good at that. Her voice alone makes it difficult for me to take her seriously.As an audio professional who has done quite a bit of vocal work (both in performing and coaching), I can tell you that there are different ways you can use your voice, and Brie is just not using her voice effectively. If I just listen to her performance, she’s more believable in a teen romcom than as Captain Marvel. To me, she would be more believable as a superhero more akin to Tony Stark - someone who’s main superpower is his genius brain - as opposed to characters like Steve Rogers or Thor, whose superpower is physical badassery.

And there are definitely ways that women can utilize higher/lighter sounding voices in order to sound more commanding. My own voice is naturally very high and light sounding (unfortunately often even veering towards shrill), but through a lot of training I have learned how to make it sound appealing and still draw the attention of everybody in the room.

And all of that is nothing against Brie. The voice is just a tool. But unfortunately, because Brie doesn’t seem to be as proficient in using this tool as other actresses are, it’s incredibly difficult for me to find her performance believable (or to take her seriously). Maybe she could have been coached to make it better, or performed her differently. But whatever it was, it just didn’t work for me.

She also doesn’t have a lot of screen presence. She is very good at smaller, more intimate moments (my favorite Carol moment was when she saw Nick had died. It was such a small moment but I FELT that), but doesn’t have the charisma to draw the eye in larger moments like RDJ (who she is reportedly replacing as the face of the MCU) does.

Issue #3: Her powers

Now I’m not saying that I have an issue with how powerful she is. Quite the contrary. I’m all for powerful badass women.

But I am reminded of something I saw where people were criticizing Endgame because “if Carol can fly through a ship, why can’t she just ram into Thanos and kill him”?

And that is more an issue with her than with the writing. She doesn’t have to struggle with her powers. In fact the struggle in her movie was learning that she didn’t have to suppress her powers.She was made so powerful that there should never be any threat whatsoever in the MCU. And she didn’t even build up to that (like Thor did in Ragnarok and Infinity War). There was no learning curve. She just has it.

So it begs the question: why should there ever be any stakes again? If Captain Marvel is that powerful, how is there any villain that can stand a chance against her?And if the guy who literally wiped out half of all life in the universe is less powerful than her, and I doubt they’re going to repeat the brainwashing plot, how is she going to have any villains in any of her future movies? If she’s that powerful, any movie that she’s in should be over in five minutes.

Name one MCU villain who is more powerful than Thanos, and I guess I might find that person a believable villain for her to go up against.But as it stands, I don’t see how they will ever be able to do interesting stories with her or develop her in interesting ways if there is no struggle, no learning curve, and no setbacks.

Issue #4: Fandom

Honestly? Y’all need to chill. 

Stop acting as if people are sexist pigs for thinking that other characters are more powerful than Carol.Stop acting as if people are sexist pigs for not liking Carol.Stop acting as if people are sexist pigs if they have issues with how her movie was written, how her character was written, or how her character was performed.Stop acting as if people are sexist pigs if they think that the guy who wiped out half the universe (and was about to wipe out the entire universe) is more powerful than she is.

You can disagree with people all you want, but the instant you start belittling people or calling them sexist pigs for having those opinions I personally stop wanting anything to do with you. (wow. what a horrible threat. I have such a high opinion of myself that I think you all will change your opinions if I say I want nothing to do with you. Clearly I need to take several seats)

And on that note, I am going to wait for a bunch of hate mail to start coming in.And for a lot of blogs to start blocking me because, even as a woman, I have been informed that I am not allowed to dislike Carol Danvers in any way shape or form. 

Ciao! 

[brick-a-doodle-do]

Serenity Split au questions!!!

Okay so you probably won’t answer this because spoilers (I will ask despite this tho lol) but what happens when everyone does find out about what Tommy is?

And are there others from the over-world in the mortal realm doing what Tommy’s doing right now too that he knows? And if yes, are they able to recognise each other? Or even if he doesn’t know them can over world people recognise their own kind on the mortal plains?

And what do the tasks consist of? Like I know h d gotta get items and stuff but how obscure can some of the items be?

And when he gets them: what happens to the items? Do they just like sit in a box or does he like use a magic quill or something a mark an item with a symbol that makes it disappear??? Like what happens when he’s got an item or completed a task that Tommy knows he’s got the right thing?

And big big big question! Who finds out about Tommy first 👀 because I did some searching of the tags and I think I know who it is but idk lol. I’m also confused why Tommy would threaten to Dream about telling Techno something so very confused and intrigued!!

OKAY THANKS FOR ANSWERING HAVE THESE 🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭

SERENITYYYYYYYYY LETS GOOOOOO I'M SO EXCITED FOR THESE QUESTIONS IDEM THE SPOILERS >:DD THANK U SMSM BECKY :DDDD

i will say that i plan for a total of five people to know about him, and eventually they all just get over the shock and end up helping him. some take longer than others tho 👀

there could be! you never know. :)

and yes they would be able to recognize each other, purely from their features. i've not entirely figured it out and somehow forgot to mention it but tommy's wings come back in after he gets his first task, just to give him a lil boost. but for some reason i haven't figured out yet, if you haven't been to the overworld you can't see them. so only one other person (plus dream) can see them! which actually leads to the first reveal !!

the tasks are pretty different! there is only one that can be found in the mortal realm. all the other ones can be found in other realms! (remember there are four well-known realms. there are others!)

the tasks are generally like some type of plant or something hard to get, just to prove tommy's loyalty and determination with things. and his strength. yk,,,

well apart from them getting stolen once, he keeps them on his desk after he gets them. after that incident he keeps them somewhere more secure! hhh i like the idea of a symbol i will definitely use that. if you still remember the paper and pencil i mentioned, both of them are inflicted with some type of magic that can take it to the overworld, and i'll use your symbol idea so he can mark it and have it get sent. THANK YOU :D and btw dream just takes them whenever he has the time to. he kinda illegally visits tommy using the whole like "guardian angel" type feature the overworld has, hence the hurt/comfort fic i showed u!

tommy knows he's gotten the right thing because it's on a slip of paper, generally telling him of the location and a tiny description of it. sometimes it comes in like a poem form tho that could possibly mislead him!

hmm u really want me to spoil that? wasjdgsjd im jk it's rlly not that big. techno is! tommy goes digging around an old ancient place and finds a book titled "memory", which he sees it's for recovering a persons memory, and he tries it on techno, just because a question had been nagging on him and he wanted the answer. techno looks eerily similar to an old warrior & deity, "blade" (i'll come up with a more creative name i promise) turns out he is. and then cause of the recovered memory he can see tommy's wings since he's been to the overworld and boooom yeah

i honestly am having a hard time deciding whether or not techno should be actual family to phil & wil or not, i'm considering having him be a neighborhood friend that just hangs around, like w/ soot house. either way would work,,,,

you stalked my tags for the answer?? :0 i'm curious, who was your guess??

i don't think i'm entirely following what u said in the last bit but maybe i'm not looking at it right,,,

as apology for not, have this: ghostbur is canon in this! twice, actually. two entirely separate occasions :)

TY FOR THE LOLLIPOPS AND THANK U MORE FOR THESE QUESTIONS I'M HAPPY YOU'RE LIKING SERENITY!!! i hold this fic so close to my heart :D

[spnfanficpond]

Hi! I have a question regarding feedback and writing that may be difficult to answer. If you don't have any advice it's totally okay to ignore! Basically my problem is I'm losing confidence in my writing. Logically I know I'm still a good writer but it hurts that confidence when I struggle for notes when I once got them with far less followers. I've tried the whole write for me thing and it helps but even so it's become a battle of I'm not going to write this well or even decent so why bother? I must be writing poorly if no one likes/interacts/etc. anymore is where my head jumps. This has been going on for months and months now. It got bad towards the end of SPN but it's only gotten worse. I've taken breaks, reduced the amount of content I put out, changed it, etc. But nothing changes. I can't even get myself to write for me anymore because I think it's not worth it. I know other writers struggle with this too but I'm starting to feel like it's impacting my enjoyment of writing. Do you have any advice for getting your writing confidence back?

Michelle here!

What you're talking about here is SO COMMON, lately. Seriously. I don't know a writer around here that hasn't expressed frustration about this at some point in the past few years. I chatted with Mel a bit, and I hope we've come up with something more than just "write for yourself" since you mentioned that's no longer working for you.

I'm going to attack this question like it's actually three questions.

Why is my audience dwindling?

How do I deal with the lack of feedback from my dwindling audience?

How do I rebuild my own confidence in my writing?

First, why is my audience dwindling?

The SPN Fan Fiction Audience is Shrinking

I put that in big, bold, red letters because I absolutely believe it's true. Especially here on Tumblr, the number of readers of specifically SPN fan fiction is shrinking. There are a few factors for this:

The "Best Stuff First" Tumblr Algorithm Disaster - This was the first time in my memory (I've only been here since 2015, so it's possible there might be earlier events I don't know about) that I started hearing about the number of notes on fics dropping dramatically. Everyone was urged to turn off the "Best Stuff First" option on their dashboard, but that didn't seem to help. Like all social media platforms, there are recommendations made when you're looking for something, and those recommendations are made up of posts that are already most popular. This leaves new posts by new writers in the dust to wither. (It didn't do anything great for even the most popular writers, either.) Only die-hard loyal fans and those the writer tagged could keep up with new content.

The Great Tumblr Porn Purge Suckfest - When the Purge happened, we lost a portion of readers who left Tumblr full stop. Whether they enjoyed the porn and missed it or got caught up in the mess of accounts that got deleted or shadowbanned or became nothing but pixels and couldn't deal with the fight for redemption, it doesn't matter. They left.

The Less Great Sucky Searching Snafu - Even before the porn ban, search functions just didn't work right on Tumblr as Staff tried to find quiet ways to keep porn from appearing on screens. The latest Apple App Apocalypse is just an extension of that. This means that even if you do everything right, your post still won't show up when someone searches for it for any number of reasons.

The Tumblr Tagging Malfunction Cluster - The fact that tagging people on Tumblr just doesn't work SO OFTEN just sucks balls. I don't know if anyone else is seeing this lately, but I've been getting a rash of notifications recently for posts from 2017! I obviously didn't get the notification at the time, so WTF Tumblr? FIVE YEARS??? It's terrible. Writers get tired of doing the work of tagging (though with the new post editor it's LOADS easier) and then readers still not seeing the posts. Library blogs and app push notifications have helped, but it's an adjustment.

The Show Ending Debacle - I think a lot of us knew that we would lose casual readers after the show ended, but we didn't expect the fandom-dividing ending that sucked a lot of loyal fans out of the fandom, too. (Personally, I'm not a fan of the last two episodes, but I love the other 325 --except maybe Bugs-- and the people behind the show, so I'm here for life.) I know of a few writers who lost the desire to write for SPN after the show ended, so I imagine the same is true for some readers. Even some of those that loved the ending may have left because it's just over. They're moving on to new shows and new fandoms and they just aren't interested in SPN stuff anymore.

The General Balls-Up Car Wreck That Is The World '20's Style - Some folks dove into fandom as an escape. Some folks didn't have that luxury. Life got hard, y'all. People dying everywhere can make fan fiction seem silly and inconsequential. We lost folks who suddenly didn't have time because they have kids who needed to be home schooled or grandparents who needed home care. Working from home on your laptop all day makes you really not want to spend more time on your laptop, even for fun stuff.

Did you notice what's NOT on this list? Your writing. Most likely, your loss of audience has absolutely nothing to do with the quality of your writing. There is a huge list of things you could be doing to lose followers (yelling at them, being rude, and stuff like that, but if you were, you wouldn't have ever had a following), and at the very bottom of the list would be anything to do with your actual writing.

Putting the rest of this under a cut since this is getting pretty long.

B. How do I deal with the lack of feedback from my dwindling audience?

There are a couple of options for you here: Work to expand your audience and focus on only a small portion of your audience.

Expanding your audience on Tumblr is near to impossible, but not completely impossible. There are still a couple of things you can do. (Side note: We are working on a series of posts coming soon that will go into some of this in more detail.)

Interact positively with your audience - Say thank you when someone reblogs your work. Go to their blog and reblog some of their work. Take requests. Something I haven't seen in years is to do a blog takeover by a character. (You take asks on your blog as an SPN character for a certain period of time. RP, in a way.)

Submit your stories to blogs that reblog for you like we do, or @dirtysupernaturalimagines. (Know of any other blogs that reblog fics? Let us know and we'll add them here!)

Join bangs and writing challenges - The admins who run these things will reblog the stories involved on their blog and you will get more exposure that way.

If you've already done all of that, then consider expanding to other platforms. Get an AO3 account. Set up a handle on Twitter for just your writing and interact with readers there. Find an artist to team up with (you can do this easily by joining a bang) and have them hype you on their Instagram or Twitter in exchange for you doing the same for them.

While you're working hard to expand your audience you can also narrow your focus to just a handful of people. Instead of looking for quantity in your feedback, look for quality. Find people who will honestly tell you whether they like your writing and make them your alpha, beta, or omega readers. Focus on what this core group of people say and consider anyone else who gives you kudos as icing on the cake.

3. How do I rebuild my own confidence in my writing?

So far, everything mentioned has nothing to do with your writing. That's because the loss of notes and followers and feedback probably has nothing to do with your writing. I doubt even Robbie Thompson could get notes in this fandom's current climate.

Most importantly, I'm going to repeat what I said above. Instead of looking at quantity of feedback, look for quality. Find people you like and respect, whose work you admire, and focus on them. Instead of judging your writing on numbers, which can have little to no relation to your writing skills, judge your writing based on how a handful of honest reviewers feel about it.

Also, consider writing for a newer fandom or in any other way switching things up. The Tumblr SPN fan fiction audience is dwindling, so find an audience that's growing and write for them. Getting feedback from a whole new set of people might reenergize you and get you back to your keyboard again.

I hope this has helped you out! If anyone else has some tips or advice, please reblog or reply with your comments! Sharing is how we all learn!

[binniesthighs]

hellooo i have read your Han fic and it's so gooooooood you really know how to portray the one and only Han Jisung omgggg. can i ask for a seventeen smut? if it's okay with you. since I'm into Jeonghan these days i really want to know how will Jeonghan react if you two arw bffs since high school then one day things changed, both of you began being so touchy and flirty then he challenges you if you can resist him omgggg like he is so cocky and confident aaaaaah BYE-

aweee thank you so much! I love love love writing for the one and only Han Jisung!! thank you so much for your patience as well anon I’m soooo sorry that this took me an age to get out, but I hope that ya like the product hehe 💕

yjh was here | reader x jeonghan |

Pairing: self insert, gender neutral reader x yoon jeonghan

Genre: fluff n’ smut

Tags: friends to lovers, bit of a comfort fic, bestfriend!jeonghan, cockyandflirty!jeonghan as we love him, lowkey mutual pining, mingyu, wonwoo, soonyoung side characters, coworkers au, mentions of food and mild food dares, mentions of alcohol+getting drunk, mentions of divorce (past), marking, reach-around teasing (r receiving), fluffy unprotected sex, body praising, spicy truth or dare, cuddles

Word count: 4.4k

Yoon Jeonghan had a habit. It wasn’t the worst of habits, but it was the kind that would clutter up your life. Often, you would wonder why he would do it, and why he hadn’t stopped: not even after you had mentioned it so many times.

It had started in high school. High school, that eternity away now. Luckily, your past was riddled with memories of him, and all of the little things that you had shared together; lunches, late nights studying, throwing littler paper wads at eachother from across the room. He would pull at the tie around your neck that was a part of the school uniform just to get a rise out of you. Jeonghan would nap during class, and you would be the one to wake him up with the flick of your finger. On cold walks to school, he would lend you his scarf, and on hot summer nights you’d stay out searching for snacks until sleep drew your eyes down, and he’d let you lean on him the whole walk home.

yjh was here

He wrote it on the first exam you had ever failed in your whole life.

Conversely, he had gotten nearly a perfect score. He was annoyingly good at everything he did. That, or he was just really good at cheating his way through things. When you thought about it, it was likely the latter that was more accurate.

At first you thought it was a joke. It was as if he was taunting you for failing miserably at mathematics II. You were never good at math anyway.

The second time he wrote it was when you had fallen asleep in class. It wasn’t a common occurrence. He’d call you a baby for being scared to fall asleep during class for fear of being startled awake by the teacher. However, this was the week that had been the longest for you: the week that everything fell apart.

Even into your mid twenties, your mother still would never tell you why your father had left that week and you never saw it fit to prod more.

He had written it on a scrap piece of paper after getting you a strawberry milk and leaving it for you on your desk.

yjh was here

Since then, he had taken the opportunity to write it everywhere he could manage. Suddenly his little scribbles filled up the margins of your notebooks; on post-it notes--he’d even etch it onto the skin on your arm in soft blue pen ink. Later, when the two of you had gone on to college, he would sneak into your dorm to write it everywhere he could find. No matter how many times you would erase it from your little whiteboard by your desk, he’d always manage to write it over, noticing immediately that it was gone.

Today, you had noticed that he had slipped it into your legal folder, among other more boring and business-y things and you had no idea how it had gotten there. It must have been sometime the day before, as he had written it on a napkin from the catering company.

yjh was here.

In all the many years that he had followed you from place to place, you must have amassed hundreds of his little notes. You kept the ones that he would give you at work tucked away in a desk, often forgetting that they were kept there until you would stumble upon them, tugging a little smile at your face. The rest of them you kept at home in a little box in your closet, even deeper away, never really knowing why. The act of simply having them was satisfaction enough, in fact, you never really minded a little clutter.

☆彡

With eyes drooping, you scratched away on your yellow note pad, writing a string of nonsense words that sounded important from the presentation. The red setting setting sun reminded you that it was your least favorite time of day: the time where the last work hour of the day would appear to stretch into twenty. Under the table your scratchy cotton work-pants felt even more scratchy than usual. Somewhere above you, the penetrating white fluorescents buzzed like flies.

With a little tap on your shoulder, Yoon Jeonghan was sitting next to you as he always was. Compared to him, you felt as if you looked like an utter mess. Just as he was annoyingly good at everything, there was never a day that he came into work looking less than perfection. Today it was a tweed two piece with a pressed shirt underneath as well as a navy tie adorning his beautifully slender neck. Around his face befell his deeply dark strands of hair which pricked the edges of his rounded wire glasses.

“This is so boring.” He had mouthed to you, adding a pout to the end of his sentence.

You formed the sound on your lips, “Shhhhh”

“I’m just saying!”

“Pay attention.”

You turned your head back to pretend to care about what your boss had to say. Every fifteen seconds or so you would nod your head to make it appear as if you were diffusing the information he was giving out.

Another tap on your shoulder and Jeonghan displayed his pen to you to draw your attention to the margin of your quarterly report print out.

you look really beautiful today, he had written

“Stop it!” You accidentally hissed, garnering the attention of your nosy and equally bored coworker sitting across from you.

This time you mouthed out the words, “No I don’t.”

“~yessss~” Jeonghan curled out his words with his tiny creeping smile

Your knee bumped into his under the ginormous desk.

“Pay attention, ‘Han.”

“Is there something you would like to add L/n?” Your supervisor’s voice cracked in the silence of the room.

“N-no sir.” your head bowed in repentance.

He elder man tsked in a little sound with his teeth. “I know that we’re getting to the end of the day folks, but let’s just get through this all so we can get home...”

Jeonghan’s tweed pants made a little screeching sound against the fabric of yours when you bumped him again under the guise of the desk.

“Screw you.”

Your friend met your remark with a wink, biting the cap of his pen while his eyes wandered down to show you another little message:

yjh was here

and I’m excited for tonight

☆彡

Wednesdays were customary somaek nights where each of you and your coworkers would gather in your cruelly tiny apartment with their own separate dishes for all to share and forget about the troubles of the midweek. As the year was winding down, it was these nights that would get you through the week. With the bodies of the five of you in your tiny living room cramped around your low-set table, you had almost forgotten that the heating in there barely worked.

With each of your coworkers entrance, they would bring in the smell of autumn with them, and the chill of the air outside. On each of their long coats, bits of leaves would cling to the edges of the fabric. Each Wednesday there would be a royal mess to clean up after, but it was Jeonghan who would often stay after to help you. The two of you would end up in your cruelly tiny kitchen, throwing soap bubbles at each other’s faces drunkenly with socks sliding all over the wooden floors. Jeonghan would write another note to stick on your refrigerator, then he would take you by the hands to twirl you around to some unbearably cheesy sounding OST.  

Perhaps it was the way that your head would get fuzzy from the soju and beer, but you loved the way that he would twirl you; it was almost like a waking dream.

“Nobody worry! Nobody! Worry!” Soonyoung burst through your door, case of beer in hand. “I’m not late, I’m actually early! Don’t you know that it’s trendy to appear an hour into the party?” When Soonyoung spoke, he had a habit of speaking with his whole chest.

“Took you long enough,” Mingyu whined, popping in another strip of galbi.

“You don’t enjoy our presence, ‘Gyu?” Wonwoo’s mouth upturned into a teasing grin.

“N-no,” The biggest man babbled, “It’s just that...Wednesdays are somaek evenings.”

“--Then I am here to help you out my friend.” Soonyoung plopped himself right down on the floor with the poof of his blond hair popping from his beanie. “Ahhhh this all looks so delicious.”

“You better pay me back.” You griped while serving him a plate of the assortment.

“Have I ever mentioned how much I love you, Y/n?”

“Nearly every time I do something for you? You still owe me from the last time we went to karaoke.

“--And for covering for your ass last week...some hangover that was, huh?” Jeonghan scooched over his leftover rice to you.

Soonyoung scoffed while twirling his bottle of soju in the air, the admiring the little tornado swirling inside. “-Was worth it though. We always have fun don’t we?” In his affection, he threw his arms around you and Wonwoo beside him.

“-Food’s gonna get cold.” Wonwoo poked his finger in the general direction.

With his full glass raised in the air after a minute of preparation, Soonyoung lead you all in a toast, cheeks already rosy. The second that your glasses collided, liquid came downpouring to the table, but none of you seemed to mind. Before you could bring your drink to your lips, you caught yourself having a moments pause, watching all of your friends before you. If you could have, you wished you could fold up little moments like these as well to put in your drawer to see when you would feel down.

Jeonghan caught your wistful sigh, sending you a wink. In many ways, you knew he must have known your thoughts.

Under the table, his hand brushed up to your crossed knee, letting his hand linger. He let his hand rest there for a moment, as if he was soaking up your essence in the moment. He had never done it before, but his thumb gently rubbed at your knee, and it felt like a waking dream.

☆彡

The night had ticked on, and you and grown more tired than you had expected by pass of the clock hand. As the night would normally progress, drinks would be had, then each of you would take turns updating the others on what you had been doing or working on. All of you would gather advice or support if needed. There had even been times when you would even provide a shoulder for one to cry on, although that didn’t happen most times.

Others, like today, the five of you would simply sit and enjoy each other’s presence with the window slightly cracked open to let the autumnal air cool your burning bodies. Jokes would be cracked every once and a while until yawns would escape your mouths. By then, another joke would be made about how you were all getting to old to be staying up that late.

Jeonghan played with your hair as you had leaned into him, swirling your final glass of soju in your wrist. While you were hot yourself, the heat from his body was still calming, and the way that his chest would rise and fall was a bit like a lullaby.

“I’m falling asleep, we should head out,” Mingyu clapped Wonwoo by the back.

“Another one for the books.” Soonyoung sighed, then rose up with a stretch of his arms, wrinkling up his white button up and loose tie.

“Sweet dreams everyone.” You shift off of your best friend, shuddering a little at the lack of contact, to close the door after them.

“I’m looking forward to next Wednesday!” Soonyoung beams with a little salute, then bows before shuffling away.

“What time is it?” You yawn out the words, rubbing your eyes.

“Too late. We still need to go in tomorrow, remember?”

Dirty dishes clink in your hands as you bring them to your sink. “We really should start doing this on Fridays.”

“I don’t wanna start cleaning just yet, can we stay here for a while?” Jeonghan spreads his arms out, beckoning you to fall back into him. You laugh a little at the motion.

“Why so touchy? We haven’t done this in so many years...I can’t remember the last time...”

You oblige him, nuzzling right up to his chest once more. He smells a bit of the somaek, but mostly of his usual scent: that cheap cologne that you had bought him about a year ago. You had mostly gotten it as a gag gift, but he had worn it every day since.

“Must have been in high school.” His words are long and breathy.

“How come we stopped?”

Jeonghan takes a minute to answer you, and you wonder if he’s fallen asleep. Instead, he raises a hand to rub at your arm lightly, just as he had done with your knee.

“Dunno. We got older?”

“What does getting older have to do with it?”

You watch in the silence as his thumb continues to rub over the fabric of your long-sleeved button down.

“--Do you want to play a game?” Jeonghan says at last.

“A game? What do you mean?”

“For fun. I’m trying to find something to do so we don’t have to do the dishes.”

“Okay,” You perk up slightly, still not removing yourself from his encircled arms. “What kind of game?”

“Truth or dare?”

“Psh what are we, back in high school?”

“Seeing what we are doing right now, wouldn’t you say so?” The words escape Jeonghan’s mouth with a growing grin.

You ruffled to top of his head, messing up his perfectly primped hair. “...Fineeee. You going first or me?”

“I’ll go. Truth.” Jeonghan pulled you back into him, settling your back flush with his chest.

“Okay, truth: did you really mean it when you said that you liked Minji’s power suit? I know you thought it looked tacky.”

Jeonghan’s breathy laugh miffed up your hair. “I’ll say anything if it keeps me in the supervisor’s good graces.”

“HA. I knew it.”

“Which do you pick?”

“Mmmm-truth.”

“Not dare? You’re no fun.”

“I said truth!!!”

“Fine, fine.” His slender arms squeezed at your body to situate you better in between his legs. “When was the last time that you brought someone over to your place?”

“Yo-you mean like “brought someone” over?”

“You know what I mean.” In his voice you could nearly see his mischievous smile.

“I’ve told you about all of them so I don’t know why you’re asking. It’s been about a year.”

“A year? Really?”

“--Nope! You don’t get to ask any more questions. Truth or dare?”

“Dare.” Jeonghan said without a moment’s hesitation.

Your eyes wandered the room for his perfect punishment. “Ah! Take that soy sauce, the one with the wasabi bits in it...and drink it.”

Your friend sighed, but took the tiny cup in his fingers to down it all in one shot. He shivered a little and you could feel his face scrunch up, but he held his reactions back best he could.

“That was such a high school dare. You really haven’t changed.”

“I thought it was funny.”

“Truth or dare Y/n.”

“Truth.”

“Ughhh truth again?”

“ ‘Hannnn--”

“Just say dare! I promise that I’ll go easy on you.”

“Fine then. Dare.”

“I dare you...to take your shirt off.”

“What?!” Your head snapped back to send him your deathly glare. “Are you being serious right now?”

“What? It’s nothing that I haven’t seen? Are you forgetting that we’ve been friends for nearly our whole lives? That and college you were someone who would go to parties and take your shirt off. Remember that?”

“...yes.” You felt heat rise in your cheeks. “Fine then.” In one motion, you pulled your shirt over your head, jumping a little once you felt Jeonghan’s hands help tear it off your arms. You hesitated to lay back, but his arms made a decision before you could, and pulled you back into his chest. Now, it was the skin of his fingers on your bare arms that you were painfully aware of.

“T-truth or dare?” You squeaked out.

“Truth.”

“No fair, you made me do dare!”

“I already did a dare. Truth.”

From the other side of your room, your refrigerator clacked with the sound of ice cubes falling into their tray. On the door, dozens of multi-colored post-it-notes had been suck there with clear tape.

“...Why is it that you’re always writing me those notes? “yjh was here?”“

“Hmm.” He breathed out. “I had a feeling that you might ask me that one.”

“...And?”

“--Because I like to. And...”

Your anticipation hung tangibly in the air. You didn’t quite know it, but you had been waiting for his answer for so many years, you had lost count.

“...And I like seeing them around you. -Reminds me that I’m a part of your life. Kind of like how we exist together. They’re little reminders for you as well...to know that I’m around for you.”

“Jeonghan...” You wouldn’t have expected it, but tears singed the corners of your eyes.

“Truth or dare?” He cooed into your ear.

“D-dare.” Your voice shook, realizations flooding you like rain.

“I dare you to take off your pants. Can you do that?” His voice had dropped, low and gravely.

You nodded your answer, and took to unbuttoning your pants, shimmying them off where you sat on the floor. As soon as your bare legs were exposed, he had found a new place to rest his hands; you never would have guessed for them to be so beautiful-looking there.

“I choose dare.” He breathed onto your bare neck.

“I-I dare you take off our shirt too.” Your face felt furiously warm as you uttered the words and he did exactly as he was told. The sensation of your skin on his skin then sent your head spinning with just how close you had been in that moment, closer than ever before.

Jeonghan’s hands explored your bare legs with a touch as soft as butterfly wings. His light touches sent an aching pain to your sex as it had never felt so needy and neglected.

“Truth or dare my love?”

In an attempt to hide your frustration, you could only form the word, “T-truth?”

“Hmm...truth...” Jeonghan began to kneed into your legs, digging his nails in every so slightly. “Have you ever kept secrets from me?”

“Secrets? Why-why would I, I don’t-mmph-have any secrets to keep from you.”

“I think that’s a lie Y/n.”

Indeed it was a lie. You had kept secrets from him. Two secrets to be exact; one of them being near the precipice for the whole universe to see.

“I’ve kept secrets from you, you know.”

“What?”

“Do you dare me to show you?”

Your anxious breath caught in your lungs, full of confusion but even more excitement. Jeonghan’s hands crept slowly up to your hips.

He repeated, “Do you?”

“Ye-yes. I dare you to show me.” Your eyes had closed feeling his hands draw even farther up your body.

Your best friend surveyed your whole chest with his hands, swirling around as much skin as he could touch. He was careful not to tickle you, but rather give every ounce of your being his careful attention. For a moment, his fingers grazed over your nipples, but went to cradle your neck in his hands. He turned it to the side to expose the beating vein there, and placed the slowest and most tender kiss upon it. From the feeling of his fleeting lips, you whimpered at the sensation.

“Dare.” You managed with a dry mouth. “I dare you to touch me...anywhere you want...please...”

Jeonghan chuckled slightly into your neck. “I just had my turn, but...I’m listening.”

Your entire body keened under his fingertips, writhing messily between his legs. This time, he was careful in touching you nearly everywhere: your chest, your nipples--pinching them slightly--and down your legs, to your inner thighs where he traced up to your underwear, now wetting a little with your arousal.

“Tell me the truth.” He bit into your skin. “Am I one of your secrets?”

Your answer was given to him in the form of you forcefully tearing from his grip to push his legs together so that you could straddle them. The way that his shoulder blades flexed under your firm grip was dizzying. Your eyes fell to his lips: your secret.

“I dare you to kiss me,” You breathed onto them.

“I thought that you’d never ask.”

Jeonghan was smiling as he pulled your lips into his, and he never quite seemed to stop. Every bit of your love for him spilled into his mouth where you found the comfort from him that you had craved for years. You had felt first kisses before, but nothing was quite like this one. With Jeonghan who you had known for so long, you were thrilled to get to know him in this new and different way, and you wanted to absorb every little bit of it: the way he would caress the sides of your face so gently, or the way that he would angle your neck to meet his lips. You would never have guessed to feel so complete with him like this, but it also made all the sense in the world. It was you that he wanted, and you that he wanted to stay next to through all those years. He had never let you go, and you had never let him either.

In between kisses, you found both of yourselves giggling hysterically.

“Are we really doing this right now? Are we...?” You bit a laugh into his lip.

“Yes. I think that we are.” He engulfed you in his grasp. “I’ve wanted to do this for years, Y/n.

Jeonghan scooped you up, moving both of your bodies to the couch where he clinked with his belt buckle to remove his pants. “You really do look beautiful. Everyday. I’m not just saying that.”

You practically clawed at him to lay his body on top of yours, then wrapped your legs around his waist to align him with your own. In your unadulterated intoxication of him, you hopelessly grinded up into him, seeking some kind of stimulation from the mashing of fabric together. After a little scoff, Jeonghan’s hand cascaded down your body to rub at your throbbing sex, marveling in the way that you had soaked though your underwear just a little.

“Wow. This is how you feel about me?”

“Do you want me to say sorry?”

“No--it’s just...I wish that I had known sooner.”

Your lust brought his lips back to yours as you kissed him over and over and over, trying to make up for all of the times that you wished you had done before. His touch on your sensitive skin sent you mewling onto his tongue.

“Can I make you mine now?”

As for your response, your widened legs told him exactly what he needed to know.

In one swift motion, he had tugged off his own briefs, letting free his deliciously hard cock, sparkling at the head with his pre-cum. Looking at him like this, all for you, was like a walking dream.

Jeonghan gathered spit from his tongue to glide over his dick, then teased your impatient entrance while he watched your face contort into the most beautiful shapes he thought he had ever seen. He entered you slowly, letting each of you take in the moment as if you could forget it the next. Once you were together, his brows twitched a little as his closed eyes focused only on you. He filled you up perfectly, as if you were made for him--which you had convinced yourself that you were. Jeonghan buried his face in your neck to suck into the skin, marking you as his.  

Your orgasm built much quicker than you had intended, and soon you were begging him to make you cum--which he gladly did. Your heels dug into his back upon your release which gathered more heat between your two bodies. Jeonghan didn’t skip a beat as he chased his own orgasm, fucking you into your own overstimulation and leaving you to melt under him.

“Jeong-han.” You gasped out his name through your teeth as your body quaked from the snap of his hips.

“oh god,” He uttered, tangling his fingers deep into your hair, then smashing his lips back into yours. “you’re so good for me my love...so good...”

Jeonghan let out little grunts as he came and filled you deeply with the warmth from his cum. As he throbbed within you, you knew it really was him you were made for. He lingered inside your walls as your bodies shook together with the aroma of sex fogging the air. After a while, it didn’t take long for both of you to be laughing contentedly into each other’s mouths once more.

Your best friend reached for your hand to bind all of your fingers to his. "No more secrets.”

☆彡

“Do you want the sweatpants from the top shelf or the rack?” Jeonghan called to you through your cruelly tiny apartment. “Wait...i-is this...?”

Once he had returned, in his hand he held the aged strawberry milk carton with the little cartoon fruit on the side and the scrap piece of paper wrapped around it. In the other was your little box of notes.

yjh was here

“I can’t believe that you’ve kept it this long. Why--”

“--I’ll tell you why...it’s my second secret.”

Your best friend cocked his head. “...Second?”

“Ever since that day, I’ve known, Yoon Jeonghan. I love you.”

☆彡

if you’ve got to this point, hehe hello I’m Ro, I write for skz and svt, and I’d love to write some more svt! If you’d like, you can send me your asks

[doctorhelena]

for the Ask Game! Fanfic WIPs! tell me about either What if - Jeep or Undercover or both!

Well, I'm a big proponent of "both, both is good", so here we go! 😂

"What If - Jeep" is pretty much just what it sounds like - a missing scene fic exploring what happens when Captain Carter Peggy and Hydra Stomper Skinny Steve get into the stolen jeep with Bucky and Howard during the first "What If" episode.

Here's a snippet:

Steve rolled his eyes at Bucky as he and Peggy slid into the back of the jeep, Howard vaulting gleefully over the front passenger door. “What the hell did you steal a jeep for, you idiot? Anyone with a pulse and a uniform can just requisition one from the motor pool.”

Bucky shrugged. “Stark dared me.”

Now it was Peggy's turn to roll her eyes. “I see. And Steve and I were forced to abandon our perfectly good drinks to come along on your sudden expedition to wherever it is that Howard has presumably dared you to drive in said purloined jeep, because?”

Bucky shrugged again, a tiny grin playing around his lips. “This is a war, Carter. We might need some muscle.”

“We’re in London, you ass,” said Peggy, without rancour. She leaned forward. “Where are we going?”

Howard smirked at her. “Somewhere with more privacy for smooching than the pub, where, as you know, someone might be watching you through the window.”

“Wait,” said Bucky, turning around in the driver’s seat. “Smooching? There was smooching? What smooching? When?”

“Eyes on the road, soldier. You’ve already stolen the jeep, don’t crash it as well,” said Peggy, and although Steve couldn���t see her face well in the darkness he got the feeling he wasn’t the only one blushing. Still, she reached over and took his hand, her fingers intertwining with his, and they smiled at each other as Bucky and Howard argued over directions in the front seat.

The warm thrill of happiness that had left Steve breathless as they’d leaned towards each other in the pub swept through him again as Peggy inched a little closer to him on the seat. “Do you think we might actually be on a date?” she asked, her breath warm against his ear.

Steve grinned. “I think we are if we want to be. Might want to ditch our chaperones up there, though.”

And "Undercover" is my increasingly-misnamed story in which Peggy uses the knockout lipstick on a woman and Steve panics that maybe he misinterpreted the reason she was mad when she came across him kissing Private Lorraine.

(Spoiler: Peggy is very much into Steve, although she is also not opposed to kissing (non-Nazi) girls, in theory - and some past practice. Although she has no plans to admit that to Howard, ever.)

I think I've already shared a snippet of this story in a previous incarnation of this tag game, so here's a different one, from earlier in the story (when they actually *are* undercover, which is where the name comes from!):

“I’m not jealous,” protested Steve, although that wasn’t entirely true. “I’m just - curious what you’re planning to do. In case you need backup.”

Peggy shrugged and showed him her tube of lipstick. “This is one of Howard’s inventions, laced with knockout drops. I’ve used it on a number of occasions, and it’s really quite fantastic.” Steve wasn’t actually sure he wanted to think too hard about that.

“How fast does it work?” he asked.

She grinned. “Nearly instantaneously.” She frowned. “It’s enough to take a large man - perhaps not you, but a regular man - down for at least five minutes. Frau Meier is a great deal smaller, so I expect I should have time to search the office and make a clean get-away.” She tucked the lipstick back into her bag, and then brought her gaze up, meeting his. They watched each other for a long time. “Although, keep your ears pricked,” she said, finally. “It’s occurred to me that you dragging me out in a jealous rage might be a reasonable exit plan.”

Steve nodded again. “Okay.”

Peggy searched his face. “You know it’s entirely business,” she said. “She’s a Nazi.”

“I know,” he said. “And I’m glad my job doesn’t involve kissing Nazis.”

Peggy’s lips twitched. “As am I. I had a hard enough time with you kissing Private Lorraine.”

[katierosefun]

Heyy, just wanted to say I LOVE your stories (and all you headcanons and tags hehe) I'm new here and wanted to ask how and when you started writing fanfiction for star wars and if you have any tips 😊

hello! thank you for the kind words :’) and of course, welcome!! 

so if we want to get really technical about things, i started writing star wars fic like,,,,waaaay back in 2013, and i kinda cringe a little when i think of those fics now because lol i was thirteen years old then--and i wrote for a little while until maybe 2016-ish? and then took a break because of mental health things, and then got back into writing fic in the past year and a half or so! 

as for the how, i wanted to write star wars fic mostly because as a thirteen year old, i was devastated by the season five finale (back then, that was when the show just got cancelled and the season five finale was the only series finale we were gonna get!), and i just kinda wanted to write all these stories about the tcw fam actually being happy. filling in the gaps and all. (lol considering how my gut reaction to the tcw season seven finale was also to write as much fic as possible, i can safely say that some things just don’t change.) 

as for tips! i got a little into writing gen fic specifically here, but as for writing fic in general: (and under the cut because i,,,as usual, went off for a while.)

1. rewatch/reread source material! this is something i usually do when i’m trying to refresh my memory on a certain episode--i won’t watch through the whole thing, sometimes i’ll just kind of jump around, but i like to get some quick look back into the source stuff to put myself in the right headspace to explore how to extend/expand the story somehow. 

of course, if you’re writing something that’s an AU then you don’t really have to worry about this, but!! rewatching the source can also just be super helpful when you’re trying to characterize properly/try to get a feel for what the characters’ voices are like. 

2. wookiepedia is your  best friend, but if you don’t have enough info on something, either search through fanon star wars meta or!! just make up something on your own! like, i cannot tell you the amount of times i’ve wanted to tear my hair out because i couldn’t find enough information on x or if i had to stop and be like “wait, but does star wars even have y??” sometimes, wookiepedia is helpful for providing those answers, and other times, blogs like @gffa really provides a big, broad look at all the stuff in star wars, and her blog kinda runs like wookiepedia itself, so i can guarantee that you’ll find some useful stuff if you’re ever kind of lost about what certain jedi customs/culture or in general, what different cultures were like in the galaxy far, far away. 

but also, as i’ve mentioned, i think it’s okay to just kinda ignore the technical stuff and just make something up in star wars as you go along. you don’t like that glass in star wars is called transparisteel? then use glass. you’re not sure if star wars even celebrates the new year? screw it, why not? you’re the writer--you get creative license!

3. there is no such thing as “too much” of one trope. so, idk if you might struggle with this, but just in case you do--sometimes, fic writers will hit a wall and be like “no i can’t post this because so many people have already written about this/used this trope/etc.” to that, i say pffft, nah. there’s a post floating around here on tumblr about a cake analogy and how like,,,to you, you might have just brought another cake to a party with already so many cakes, and you might feel kinda embarrassed about that, but to the large majority of people? all they see is more cake, and who doesn’t love more cake? 

what i’m basically trying to get at here is!! write whatever you want and don’t worry about if someone’s already done it, because everyone in fandom lives to see their favorite storylines expanded over and over and over again/everyone lives to see their favorite tropes used over and over and over again. fic is wonderful for that very reason, and you shouldn’t deprive yourself of enjoying that. 

4. this might seem kinda trivial, but spellcheck and formatting is...mostly important. the unfortunate thing about fic is that sometimes people will click out the second they see a huge block of text like so: 

“this is just a practice run,” i say as i start this paragrah. i don’t really know what i’m writing about but this is an example, and i know that this is probably going to look really, really ugly on the screen but here we go oh the things i do for explaining fic i already know that this has gone long enough but who is to stop me you know? wait no i haven’t made any spelling errors yet to prove my point so okay let me think of a common spelling error i can’t think of any right now but hm let’s see i will causally say that i have made a spelling error. oh look! i have made a spelling error (well, not a spelling error, more like a mix-up of words) because you can tell that instead of writing casually which would be more correct i wrote causally and those two are very different things. but there are other spelling errors that can sometimes be a turn-off for readers like when they notice that the k in kenobi isn’t capitilized and once or twice that’s all fine and most people will overlook that, but if you do that consistently then most people will be turned off and click into another fic and oh dear it seems that i am actually explaining things so i guess that means i should stop with this ugly paragraph and actually move forward. “move on!” i shout to myself now. (and just pretend that something like this continues for a good two or three pages.)

do you see how ugly that is? it’s an eye-strain to most people when they read, and you can write the most beautiful fic in the world, but if the formatting and the spelling is off, then most people will move to a different fic. (which is, again, unfortunate, especially for younger and newer writers, but! ‘tis a thing that comes with fic.) 

5. have fun! don’t get yourself caught up with appealing to the crowd. write what you want to write first and foremost, because at the end of the day, it’s you who’s putting in the work and the effort to craft a story, and if you’re about to invest your time and energy into anything in your free time, then it should be something that brings you at least some joy and comfort. so go on and write, and keep writing if you enjoy it! no one can take that away from you. 

hope that all helps!! 

[latetaektalk]

hi there ^^' i'm... kinda new to this whole tumblr thing and have been wanting to write on here for a while but this huge place is kinda scary sometimes haha ;; do you have any writing tips or tricks that would be good to know for newcomers? (also your music taste is immaculate, i love it)

hey love 💕 first of all, welcome to tumblr!! its a fun place,, youre gonna love it, and learn to hate it lol second of all, thank you for complimenting my music taste 😳

now im not quite sure if you want only writing tips or writing blog tips, so ive included tips and tricks for both!

WRITING BLOG TIPS :

have a masterlist. this might seem stupid and obvious, but ive seen people with no masterlist. people are lazy, so if they cant access your writing easily, they will just click away.

have a clean theme. aesthetics are important. they are. people love clean and easy to navigate themes. again, people are lazy, so if you make it easy to click through your blog and get to your writing, youll increase the chance of people reading your stuff!

how to get your work show up in general. putting links in your fanfic might lead to your story not showing up in the search. ive also heard that a banner thats too big can cause that. even using too many tags can lead to your work not showing up. its complicated.

the first five tags. im sure youve heard abt this already but the first five tags are the tags that will actually show up! so if someone follows #bts fluff and you tag your fic with that, your fic can show up on people's dashes as a recommended post!

tag accordingly. speaking of tags, please tag accordingly! theres nothing more annoying than finding a jimin fanfic in the taehyung fanfic tag. i really discourage you from mistagging your stories. if im scrolling through the taehyung fanfic tag and find a jimin fanfic, it makes me want to not read it. just tag your fics accordingly.

reblog your fics. i mean it. seriously, reblog them as much as you want! people live in different time zones or sometimes forget abt wanting to read your stuff, so reblogging it consistently for a week or so to get it on people's dashes helps!

teasers and taglists. i recommend doing both! teasers help to get people excited for your story and taglists ensure that people will read it, or at least remember to!

dont stress abt notes. now, this is less of a tip but rather something i just really really really want to tell you! i know youve heard this before, but please do not stress about notes. tumblr fame does not exists! it doesnt matter if your writing gets 2 notes or 300 or 5k notes! i do understand how getting a lot of notes can be motivating (every fics deserve all the love in the world by the way!!) but in the end, it should not be your motiviation to write. focusing on notes will ruin writing for you. it will. the amount of notes your fic will reach has nothing to do with how good your writing is. dont let something as superficial as notes ruin the fun of writing for you. its seriously not worth it! write for you and no one else!

WRITING TIPS :

write self indulgent fics. i seriously think all fics should be self indulgent. writing fics should be fun, so please write whatever you want! also, theres no such thing as an overdone trope. if you want to write a fake dating enemies to lovers fic, please write it! you might think there are already a bunch out there and its not worth writing another one, but youre wrong! there isnt one out there thats been written by you yet. go write it!

make playlists. now this is a bit specific to me because im absolutely obsessed with music, but making playlists that fit the mood of the fic has always helped me while writing and gotten me out of writers block before!

take your time. writing is freaking hard and when writers block hits, theres rarely ever something that you can do. try not to stress too much abt it! it happens to the best of us!

balance dialogue and detail. its important to find a middle. if im reading a fic and theres paragraph after paragraph after paragraph of detail, the chance of me just skipping that part is really high. because even though i love detail, it does get boring. so use dialogue to spice it up!

reading. okay, this sounds weird because youre asking for writing tips, but reading seriously help your writing so much! if you wanna improve your writing skills, reading a lot is going to be key. now, im not saying reading is necessary, but i do think that it can help you to better! whats even more important though is that you try to analyse people’s writing while reading. when i say you should analyse people’s writing, i do not mean you should write an entire analysis of a book, but to take a second and think to yourself how the authors just did that. how did they convey oc’s sadness? why did they just describe the weather? whats the purpose of this scene?

switch up sentence/paragraph length. shorter sentences/paragraphs = emphasise something and pick up the pace. longer sentences/paragraphs = slow down the story and allow for more detail. its important that you do a mix of both. utilise the length to your advantage. a well placed short sentence/paragraph can pack a lot of punch and turn your sad story in a heartbreaking one.

outline your fics. look this is very personal again because some people dont like to outline their fics, but i recommend outlining your fics. and when i say outline your fics, you can do it as little or as much as you want! it can be a few notes, or a long list of every detail you want to include. i just want you to know where this story is headed. its so easy to write yourself in a corner and trust me, you dont wanna end up there.

allow yourself to be free. this connects to the previous point i just made. even though i do recommend outlining your fics, i am also a firm believer of taking the story somewhere else if you feel like it. ive scrapped complete outlines before. half of the scenes i write also arent in my outline at all. you dont have to stick to the outline. if you think that a specific scene would add something to your story, then please go ahead and write that scene. just always remember where youre headed and dont loose focus.

have fun. i just really wanna reiterate this point again. its just so important to me that you have fun while writing! seriously. its just fanfiction. it should be fun. go crazy. i support you!

okay bub i hope this was helpful 💕 if you have any other questions/want more tips/want me to elaborate on something, please just hit me up! my ask box is always open!

[cherryeol04]

Stray Kids Playing Minecraft~

A/n: I hope you all enjoy, and if you liked, please leave a like! 💖💖💖💖

Tags: @straysrachaa @lordseochangbin @channiesmixtape @starryseung​ @felixsanxchatbot @jisungsjheekies​ @mrbangchannie

Chan

- doesn't know almost anything about Minecraft the first time around but he plays with you to make you happy

- you have to baby him for a while

- BUT THEN!

- He goes and learns about the game in his free time

- and then he pleasantly surprises you now that you he doesn't suck anymore

- and most peculiar of all

- he got really interested in redstone

- boi can make some INVENTIONS

- His house is like, fully automated - farm and all

- it makes you jealous but also very proud

- a pretty big pacifist

- shears, veggies and bread is all he needs

- he still big soft baby but he smart baby now

- also, would totally run around with a pumpkin on his head if you could still wear them in the latest version

Lee Know

- would kill everything that moves

- would hoard all the meat and refuse to give you any

- deforestation at its finest

- king of surplus

- playing with him is actually playing by yourself cuz he goes off on his own

- builds himself a goddamn empire!

- and no one knows where it is

- if he catches you inside his house without permission: shoot first, ask questions never

- mobs fear him, not the other way around

- will give you items cuz you're a charity cause

- actually shares when you both go mining though

- but let's face it, he's just OP

- would try to get all the cats

- totally to chase away creepers

- not because he wants an army of them or anything

- gets annoyed that he has to constantly fish because the cats keep taking them but won't be tamed by him

- he totally did not search for mine shafts just for name tags to name his cats

- DO NOT HURT HIS CATS

- or he'd cancel you in-game and irl too

Changbin

- would be super excited to play Minecraft with his friends

- he would be the first on the server to scout out the land and get resources

- however, no one warned him about night fall

- and all the creepy, scary things that spawned

- changbin lives in the ground now

- he dug a hole at the base of the mountain to take refuge during the night and never looked back

- normal person? No way! He was a mole now!

- the best at mining and interior rock design

- he would only resurface to seek out food and animals

- it was Changbin who stole all the cows and sheep, so you couldn't find them for felix

- he would have three large pins just next to his mountain

- lots of cows, rainbow sheep and pigs with saddles

- " uh...so I found these pins of animals and like...no house?"

- "What?"

- "I think the magical Minecraft fairy spawned it into the world?"

- "It's super weird. But I'm gonna kill some cows for their leather"

- "DON'T YOU TOUCH MY COWS!"

- and to your shock, a secret door in the mountain opens and Changbin comes running out

- the door made courtesy of Chan

- "He's got a diamond sword already?!?"

- it's the last thing you scream as he kills you for being near his cows

- and after a round of feeding and breeding, he disappears back into his hole

Hyunjin

- would only be about building

- he would be the first one to have a diamond pickaxe just so he could mine cobblestone faster

- would also get efficiency V just so he could speed run through the mines

- would wander through different biomes for days to collect clay so he could make concrete

- and while you're busy actually playing the game, he would beg for you to pick flowers on your trip so he can dye the concrete different colors

- his first house would be a mansion

- but he would give up half way because he kept falling off the roof and dying

- would forget he is actually playing the game and would get scared when night falls and mobs start spawning in his unlit house

- not like you didn't tell him countless times to put down torches

- but he kept saying they ruined his aesthetic

- but now he keeps dying because mobs are literally waiting at his spawn point, killing him over and over and over again

- and he begs you to set the time to day and kill the mobs for him

- but you just laugh uncontrollably at him because karma really is a bitch

- but in the end, he ends up making an entire city, and invites the others to come and play on the server.

Jisung

- would be just like Chan

- a pure ass baby when it comes to playing minecraft, but super eager to play the game

- his first spawn would be in the middle of the night (because of server)

- and you would try to tell him to not leave the safety of spawn, but he just wouldn't listen

- "Listen, Y/n, I know what I'm doing! I'm a pro at this!"

- and he would run confidently into the night, like the actual idiot that he is

- he wouldn't get too far before he was attacked by all the mobs and got killed

- "Well that was just rude!"

- "Oh my god Jisung, I told you not to do it."

- "Well how was I supposed to know they were going to kill me?!"

- and you can only shake your head at his stupidity

- he would eventually wait until daytime, but unfortunately all of his items would be lost due to despawning

- it's not like either one of you were equipped to go and retrieve his items

- zombies sucked man! And skeletons are the worst!

- but with a new day comes a new adventure and you both head out to find a place to call home

- Jisung would run the entire way, even though he had no food to keep his hunger up

- he also wouldn't be paying attention to where he was going and would fall into a hole

- a very BIG hole

- 'J.One fell from a high place'

- "Really Jisung?"

- "I couldn't see it!"

- playing with Jisung would be a very challenging task, because he would never learn

- because by the time he had diamond armor and ready to fight the wither, he would have fallen from fifteen cliffs, twenty holes in caves and three ravines

- "Jisung if you die one more time I swear to god!"

- 'J.One fell from a high place'

- "That's it! I quit!"

Felix

- You would be so hyped to play with Felix

- You've seen him play other games, so you knew he'd be great at minecraft

- Getting the server had been his idea, the easiest way everyone could play together

- First day of spawn, Felix would already be listing off the things that you would need to accomplish

- wood, cobblestone, iron, seeds, sheep

- it was all just so overwhelming

- by the time you make your first complete set of wooden tools, felix would have iron tools already

- he'd been ten feet underground, digging for more resources while tasking you to find the animals for food, wool and feathers

- easier said then done

- and when he resurfaces and you don't have animals, he would simply sigh and go do it himself

- which would upset you because you would spend hours looking for just one god damn cow

- meanwhile, Felix would take five steps in one direction and come across hundreds of cows!!!

- WHERE DID ALL THESE COWS COME FROM?!?!?

- he'd travel the whole map just to find a jungle to get coco beans

- seriously though, how did he find the fucking jungle?

- it like doesn't exist

- except it does and Minho most likely lives there with all his cats

- Also, there's pandas!!!!!

- Felix would try and tame a panda, even though it's not possible

- When not trying to show off, Felix would be in his crappy little hut (cause hyunjin was still making the city), making cookies and cakes because why wouldn't he?

- at least he shares, unlike someone.....

- Felix would be absolutely unstoppable at the game, while you struggle to get to iron level armor (while trying to keep Jisung alive)

- Felix would have just a big ego

- it's okay though. One strike from Seungmin's sword and he'd be put back into his place

- Revenge is a dish best served Seungmin.

Seungmin

- the worst of the worst

- he would be the one to pretend to not know the game

- but really, he would be a minecraft expert

- read: troll

- every chance he would get, Seungmin would try to do something to ruin your day

- don't ever go mining with him. EVER!

- he would be the one to lead over a creeper to you in a ravine while you're trying to mine diamonds, right next to a lava pool

- the first one to explode wouldn't do any damage, thankfully

- "Don't you dare bring a creeper over here!"

- "I wouldn't."

- somehow, you wouldn't be convinced

- but you decided to trust him

- y/n clown

- you're just mining away at the diamond when a big explosion happens

- and you notice two things

- 1. the diamonds and the surrounding area were blown up

- 2. you were now in the pool of lava, dying

- meanwhile, Seungmin was running away, cackling like the evil little shit that he was

- the holy terror, that's what they would call him

- he would purposefully go out and fight creepers just to gather their gunpowder so he could make dynamite

- no one was safe from him

- except Minho

- because no one knew where he was

I.N.

- Jeongin would spend at least two days researching things for the game before actually playing

- he would want to have some knowledge before walking into hell that was the Stray Kids server

- it's okay though, because everyone loves Jeongin

- really, he wouldn't need to do a thing

- diamond armor, enchanted? check

- enchanted weapons? check

- his own cat and dog? double check

- everyone would do anything for this baby

- but Jeongin isn't one to mooch *coughJisungcough*

- even with all his presents, he would still start with the basics of punching a tree

- while others have found this skills in cooking, mining, falling into holes, redstone and building

- jeongin would be more interested in potions and enchanting

- YOU'RE A WIZARD INNIE!

- Jeongin would quickly master potion brewing

- even if it meant battling the scary blazes in the nether

- huh, so that's why Changbin was screaming so much

- he would be hired by Minho to make him potions of breathing so he could go claim an ocean monument

- Jeongin would only do it if he could help

- surprisingly Minho agrees and for the first time in 84 years, everyone gets to see Minho's character