#peep my bear socks

[jishyucks]

oop concert post for proof for myself,, deleting this in like 24 hours bc my face (っ- ‸ - ς)

[thecapricunt1616]

Chapter One The Bear & His Honey

Summary: Carmy + Winnie meet, He obviously tries to weasel his way into her heart by cooking for her.

A/N: Eeeep! I am sooo excited to be writing again, i've written fic's since like 2010 & stopped for quite a while, But Carmen has awoken the beast in me once more LOL !!! It's not without much thanks and love to @daysofyellowroses - Her encouragement & excitement for my ideas has inspired me in the most beautiful way. Give her a follow please! Her fic's genuinely are sososooooooo good that they made me want to start writing myself again, The theme and overall organization of her works is immaculate, I admire her works so much! I highly encourage any Carmy lover to take a look!! She is also such a doll!! And so so sooo sweet!!!

Anyhow, I love longer fics - this chapter is nearing 6k words & it initially started as a one shot, so reader be warned I am very wordy!

Warnings; Cursing, ehh I think thats it? Oh! Smoking Cigarettes & The green stuff, but thats all! *We will be getting VERY spicy, angsty, and sickeningly fluffy in this story - if that isn't your cup, ask me anything if you like my style! I am only writing for Carm at this second, but I will be writing ACOTAR & likely other things as I wet my pallate - it's been years for me, but if you have an idea that you want to throw my way, or just wanna talk (even if you just need someone!) I'm here for you peeps! Without further ado- let the show begin.

(Comments + Reblogs + Kind critiques are not only appreciated, but heavily encouraged!)

𝒞𝒽𝑒𝒸𝓀 𝒪𝓊𝓉 𝑀𝓎 𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉!

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

One

I took a deep breath, the dry, late winter air sticking my nostrils together momentarily- fuck. I hate this god-damned weather. I shuffle across the street, my boots mushing through the late-winter Chicago slush. I slosh into the alley, my boots squelching with every step. I trudge across the street, nearly gagging at every soggy step, feeling my socks ever so slowly become wet. 

I sludge my way finally to the (god-blessed, shoveled) alley across the way, that connected The Next Page to the street in front of it, and hear a muttered “fuck” & my eyes lift from the locked spot on my salty, wet boots. They meet the side-profile of an undeniably handsome curly dirty blonde male, my eyes rolling, as he pats his pockets down. I assume he forgot his light. 

As I approached him, I piped up. “Missin’ somethin’?” I flick my pink lighter to life with my thumb, My eyes meeting his large blue ones. He leans forward, gently lighting his cigarette between my thumb and the flame. “Thanks” he muttered, sucking on the cigarette between his lips, his eyes locked on me. 

“Y’ smoke?” he questioned. I shook my head gently, “Not cigarettes, but I’m bout’ to eat, s’why not?” I slipped the small tin from my pocket, pulling a shorty from the box. I put it between my lips, leaning in close, touching the joint tip to the burning end of his cigarette gently, and took a slow drag once it was fully lit.

“Work here?” I motion at the building next to us with my chin, smoke spilling from my lips as I speak. His white t-shirt made me guess he could be a line cook or a bus boy at the restaurant that had been crowding the block the past few months. He nodded, a large puff of smoke leaving his lips, the edges of his lips upturning a bit into a smile. 

“Mhmm, own it.” he said casually, taking another drag, my eyebrows raising. “Hmm,” I hummed, smoke puffing from my nose obviously in the winter air. “Wow, from the shirt- thought you’re a busboy, quite the humble owner mm’?” I teased, a smile dancing on my lips as I pulled another puff of my joint. “Yea- guess so” he teased, shrugging lightly. 

“My boss comes by once in a blue moon, so either you’re a grade-A asshole, or have crippling OCD and you think your business is gonna fail.” I teased, blowing smoke past his left as I leaned against the brick wall. He chuckled, “Alright, well- Sugar says I’m OCD whatever the fuck that means, so you got me” he shrugged. I laughed. “I can so see it, what’s your name?” I asked. 

His eyes flutter to my lips, before meeting my eyes again. “Carmen.” He replied, putting his cigarette back to his lips and taking a deep drag. “Winnie..” I replied nibbling the inside of my lip gently. Carmen. Carmen. Carmen. The word echoed in my mind like an invocation. “Winnie” he repeated, smoke spilling from his lips in tendrils.

“Full name?” He questioned. A heat rose to my cheeks and I rolled my eyes, gaze flicking to my sneakers as I took another drag of my joint. “Winnow. Shut up, if you laugh, I’ll cut off your dick. My parents were never married, not sure what they were thinking.” I mutter, the tips of my ears heating in embarrassment. “Mmm” he hummed.

I look back up at him, “No slick comments?” I asked, genuinely surprised. He shrugged. “Winnow is pretty, people make fun of that?” He questioned, dropping the mostly burnt cigarette to the ground and crushing it with his chef's clog. My cheeks felt like they were on fire. “A dude named Carmen, not used t’ people pokin’ at your name?” my glance meets his.

His arms were now crossed over his chest, his delicious biceps becoming more prominent. “Go by Carm, mostly” he shrugged. Carm. “Hmm.” I hummed. “Carm. Suits you.” I said, my eyes grazing over the tattoos adorning his arms. “Yeah?” his tongue grazed his lips, a smirk pulling at the corners. 

“Mhhmm” I reach out, my finger brushing over the ‘773’ on his arm. “From ‘round here huh?” I questioned, my eyes meeting his blue ones once more. “Ye’, east side” he said, to which I nodded. “Sorry, don’t know too much, from New York.” I said, my arms crossing over my own chest. 

“Yeah? Where about? Did culinary school out there.” he replied. “Rochester” I nod, my accent coming out slightly. “Ah, alright. Like yourself a garbage plate?” he teased. I laughed, a real laugh, something few and far between these days. “Wow, so you really went to school out there eh’? I do actually, know how that came to?” I asked my fingers finding a loose string on my jacket to fiddle with.

“Not at all, thought it was a myth- you really eat that shit out there?” he joked. I giggled. “Don’t make me hit you, Yes! We do, so story goes, frat guys stumble all drunk in to Nick Tahoes, and they tell the line cook to give ‘em the plate with ‘all the garbage’ on it. And so, since it was closing time, they took all the carby leftovers they were gonna throw out, and threw em on a plate- the guys loved it” he grimaced playfully “eugh! Guys never heard of a burger?” 

 I laughed again “there is a burger, Carm! mmm,” I hum my eyes closing and head falling back at the memory of such a comfort meal. “oh my god, mac salad, cold! Has to be cold, Carm, then you do baked beans,” I paused at his brows furrowing “Don’t look at me like that, asshole” I shove his shoulder playfully, earning a chuckle. 

“No- nope keep on explaining your… catastrophe” he teased, I gasped, feigning a shot to the heart. “Wow, Carmy, you know how to flatter a girl huh? Insulting the indigenous dish of her homeland?!” I joked, causing him to really laugh. A beautiful sound I wanted to hear more often. “Ok, ok, so then you add the homefries, then - the house chilli, ohhh my god!” I groaned my head falling back “Soo, so good, then, you add on a burger patty, or a hotdog, or both if you feel frisky” he laughed again, his eyes crinkling adorably.

“How often do you feel frisky mm? Or are you a more tame girl?” he teased. I smacked the side of his jaw gently with a large bashful smile adorning my lips, “Carmen! You do not ask a lady how often she gets frisky!” I giggled, poking his muscular chest gently. “Ok, ok, keep going- or is that the end of the abomination?” he questioned and I dug my knuckle into his chest playfully.

“Nope!! Then you add chopped onions, ketchup, and mustard!!” I grinned and he grimaced jokingly. “Holy Jesus, your breath could knock out an army after that I’d bet” he teased earning another true laugh from me. “I swear, you own his place? If you thought you were busy before- add a garbage plate to the menu, and you’ll be rich, Carmen” I adjusted the Saint Anthony chain around his neck gently, so the pendant was facing front. 

His cheeks got a bit flushed. “Well, i’m makin’ a new dessert menu, if you wanted to come in and check it out, How bout’ I make you a garbage plate, well, the Carmen-Garbage plate, we don’t do chilli here, but I think you’ll like what I pull together” he offered. 

I took another drag of my joint, contemplating. “Alright. Shops been slow today so, Mel won’t notice if I sneak an extra few minutes in” i put out the nub on the wall, before dropping it and crushing it under the toe of my boot. 

“C’mon” he nods, pulling open the large metal door that leads into the kitchen.

Read Chapter 2 Here!

[miasmaghoul]

Hi friend

I just found out someone very important from my youth passed away today. Do you have any soft ghoul thoughts in your brain tonight? They would be greatly appreciated and recieved with love.

Thanks 💙

Oh my dear, I'm so sorry for your loss. This is a hard day for me too, the anniversary of a major death in my life. I empathize. Know that I'm always around if you need to talk.

I know it's a little late, but here is a short, soft dewther thought for you (because it's me and what else would I do) ♡

On a cold winter morning, there's nowhere Dew would rather be than right here.

Aether had appeared in his room entirely too late last night to be polite. Had knocked shyly on his door and whispered through the oaken slab, asked if Dew was awake. He hadn't been, but he's always been a light sleeper and needlessly weak for Aether.

He'd invited the other ghoul in with a grunt, already pulling back the blankets and cranking up his internal thermostat to get the sheets toasty. Aether had shuffled in on slipper-clad feet, wrapped in a fuzzy purple blanket and shivering so hard his teeth were chattering. He'd kicked the door shut and hurried to Dew's bed without so much as a greeting. He really didn't need one.

Aether's always cold in the winter, nearly as bad as Rain. Nearly as bad as Dew himself, back in the day. He doesn't complain though, not even once. Never so much as a peep, not when Rain was borderline hypothermic and in need of care.

Dew sees it, though. Sees Aether pull on more and more clothes - today's getup was a long sleeved thermal under a sweatshirt, thick sweatpants and two pairs of woolen socks under his slippers. He hears it too, mannerisms he's learned from years and years of exposure. That's how he knew to sleep off to the side tonight, knew to drag out the extra heavy blankets he never needs.

Aether had crawled under them without a word, bringing with him the unnatural chill of the void at the center of his being. Enough to make even a fire ghoul shiver. He hadn't complained, though. Had simply tucked Aether in up to his ears and snuggled up to his chest. Had buried his face in the shivering ghoul's neck and wrapped him up in long limbs. Had bled his warmth into that frigid body and smiled where Aether couldn't see it at the pleased groan he'd earned.

Dew never sleeps on nights like those. He's too preoccupied with making sure Aether's comfy, that he's warm and safe and sleeping off his bone-dewp exhaustion. For Dew, the loss of one night is nothing in exchange for the gentle rumble of Aether's peaceful snoring.

Plus, it means he gets to stare without getting caught. Once the shakes die down, Dew can pull away enough to look at Aether as much as he likes. To take in his rugged features, to memorize the lines on his face and the wrinkles by his eyes. He gets to admire Aether's beauty the way Aether does his - with pure, unabashed adoration.

Perish the thought of Aether actually seeing the besotted look on his face. Dew would never live it down.

The next morning is the best, though, and that's where Dew is now.

Aether had shifted onto his back once his muscles had relaxed. Dew lays molded to his side now, one leg hooked over Aether's hip and an arm slung over his belly. His head rests on the larger ghoul's shoulder, angled just so that he can take in Aether's serene expression. The sun has only just started to rise, its pale light washing stone walls in pinks and the faintest bit of orange.

The light does things to Aether's face. It brings out the hump on his nose and the chips in his horns. The splash of freckles decorating his cheeks. The curve of his lips and the line of his jaw. Dew can't help but touch, has to trace the topography of Aether's visage with the tip of a single, elegant finger. Has to commit every bit of it to memory.

The sun is fully up by the time Aether wakes. Dew hunkers down and watches him blink hazily at the ceiling, watches him get his bearings. Basks in the pleased hum he offers when Dew gives him a gentle squeeze, nuzzling onto his sweatshirt. Dew chirps when Aether noses at his hair, affectionate and sleepy.

"Mornin', firefly," Aether croaks. It's one of Dew'a favorite ways to hear him.

"Morning," he greets, voice low and warm, "how'd you sleep?"

"Mm, really good," Aether replies, and Dew can hear his smile. He pulls back to fix the other ghoul with one of his own. Aether strokes Dew's cheek. "How about you?"

"Like a baby," Dew says.

He thinks the soft kiss Aether gives him is worth the lie.

[torif0xx]

Sims 4 Infant CC Clothes

Hey peeps, so I compiled all my fav infant cc clothes, shoes, hats and socks.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/YfXUVgHu5uc

Infant Sweater and Rain Or Shine Tank by @storysims

Cheez Rompers + socks and Logan Onesies by @onyxsims

Graphics Pyjama Conversion by @toxxicsims

Little Onesies, Funfetti Onesies and Bonnets by @plumbaleena

Rainbow Joy Onesie, Care Bear Onesies, Floral Set and Cow Onesie by @thesimallie

Infant Onesie Recolor by @pinksimz

Infant Socks and Teddy Bear Onesies by @pinkglacierz

Trillyke Teddy Slipper Conversion, Animal Socks and Moccasins by @simiracle

Unicorn Bow Hat and Pom Pom Hat by @theseprettylittlepixels

Squiggle Dress by @dudleystrailer

Pastel Romper Set, Quilted Sleeper Set and Quilted Floral Infant Sleeper by @simbeeez

Sparkly Cowprint Onesie Recolor and Cowprint Overalls by @ellieandra

Dino PJs by @lukewalegames

Lily Romper and Top @simplystefi

Puzzle Overalls and Dreamy PJs Set by @superflare

Wild Onesie by @strawberrylattesims

Woodland Critter Set by @jujuawesomebeans

Bebe dress by @thesimbiote

Unquilted Onesie by @spacecasesimmies

Quilted Onesie Recolour by @candlelightsimmer

Snowsuit Recolor by @aurora-borealis514

I’m a Wolfy Sweater and Hat by @tinysimmer

Hello Kitty Onesies by @cinnasims

Hattie Romper, Rosie Shoes and Bo Shoes by @georgiaglm

Crochet Hats by @feralpoodles

[txtmetonight]

I love you

call summary⋆ ★ the book was extremely interesting. it was too good to put down and it was definitely too engrossing to have you unaware of your surroundings. luckily Kai knew exactly what he had to do to get your attention.

pairing *. * huening kai x fem! reader

genre⋆ ★ tooth-rotting fluff

warnings *. * again really sweet fluff and horrible grammar (english isn't my first language, please help if you want to be my editor because I obviously suck at it 💀)

featuring ⋆ ★ the rest of txt

call duration *. * 1.1K (drabble)

You felt warm.

The lights were dimmed with the sun already tucked into bed. Blankets were pulled up to your chest and your eyes were hidden behind a big book, indulging in the plot that was eerily too interesting for the genre. You decided to retire to bed early, legs aching and mentally exhausted from the five-hour hike that Beomgyu forced you on, a slight dip in the lake with Kai, and dinner that ended with burning marshmallows. The faint noise of screaming and laughter vibrates through the cabin room, the boys most likely laughing at something stupid. Though even after all that racket outside, never so once did your pupils stray from the text on the paper, too invested in gulping every phrase to notice that your lovely boyfriend wasn’t even in the same room as you and his lack of physical affection towards you were more extended than comfort for him.

Suspicious.

Yet the world goes on and you devour the book halfway, and one look at the time has you curiously peering up at the door, wondering where Kai is and if you should get up and look for him like a good girlfriend or continue your adventurous journey through the wild pages of paper. And of course, you choose the latter, sighing as you flop back onto your pillow. But you suddenly feel clingy for Kai’s hold against your body, missing the usual placement of his warm hands and rubbing your stomach gently. The door creaks open slightly, letting in a little more light that was flooding the hallway outside the room, and a curious face peers in, smiling in pure adoration at your furrowed eyebrows and bitten lip. The small space housed a bunkbed (which you were occupying the top bunk) and a small bathroom, with a plush couch that Kai absolutely adored and spent most of his time laying on it with you, rather than using the bed as its intended use. He thinks about if he wanted to bother you or not, should he leave you alone and let you enjoy your book or should he talk your ear off about Taehyun almost fighting a bear, all while flopping on you?

Actually, he has a better idea than just jumping on your stomach.

A goofy grin spreads the corner of his lips, reaching all the way to his crimson cheeks and up to his honeyed swirling eyes, trying to navigate his big body around so you don’t catch him, socked feet gliding smoothly against the amber wood. He crouches down and freezes for a second when you move around, adjusting your position, your sight still trained on the book. His hands reach the ladder, slowly using his fingers to grip the somewhat sleek rungs, and he keeps repeating the motion (which didn’t take long due to his stupidly lanky legs) until he was eye-level with the big blue blanket which was conveniently hung out of the frame of the bed. Eyes peek up at your still-concentrated face and he actually starts to get concerned about your lack of self-awareness. Nevertheless, he clutches the soft blanket, lifting it over his head.

__

You hate it when the covers lift, exposing your legs to the biting cold. So you frown in discomfort and in confusion (maybe fear) when the blanket suddenly raises itself but before you could investigate what was the cause of it, slick hands slither up to your thighs and a huge mass practically crawls up your body, resulting in you yelping but soon laughing at the face that peeps out like a weasel. "Surprise, do you like it?!” Kai asks sweetly, batting his eyelashes knowing that it melted your heart and turned your brain into sweet mush. 

“Not at all” yet you take his face in your palms, the book set aside, cradling his red cheeks in your hands, leaning forwards to place butterfly kisses, lips brushing ever so softly. “Come closer” you mutter, and you swear you could hear him mumble something while his face flushed more, his body dragging him so his head now laid in the crook of your neck, legs starting to tangle themselves in yours, in hopes of being getting as much as closer as he could. “Tired?” you question, quietly cooing at his yawn. “Nope” he turns to look at you, noses skimming each other, little huffs escaping his lips as his face pulls closer like a magnet, finally interlocking lips. He wriggles his fingers up your face, tracing your features with his nail, your own hand trailing up to soft fluffy hair, pushing him closer while your other palm settles at his waist, drawing tiny figures onto his skin. He pulls back for a bit though, using his strength to hover a little over your disappointed face, sad that the shared kiss ended early. “Stop, come back” you whine, seizing his sleeve, trying to tug him back down but it works in vain, instead he just forces a bigger distance, finding amusement at your struggle to chase after his lips.

“I love you”

His eyes widen in shock, a gasp leaving his slightly parted lips as he watches your face hold a lovesick beam with twinkling eyes that held the stars and above. “W-what?” he doesn’t perceive the sneaky hand that streams up his shirt. “I love you so much” you repeat before grabbing the collar of his clothing, slamming him back down towards you, capturing him into another kiss, that had his mind pop with fireworks and internal cheers of his heart that’s been rooting for him since the beginning. “That was the first time…” 

“I know, but it’s true, I do really really love you,” you whisper, pushing your head to the side to deliver more sprinkles of your lips plastering on the side of his cheekbones. “Me too, I love you more than you’ll ever know”. One thing you’ve observed about Kai, ever since his shy- self-proposed his undying love for you, was that he always stared at you like you were his whole world. With adoring eyes and a sickeningly sweet smile that had you in shambles, his words either had you losing brain cells or made you weak in the knees or both. God, you loved him so much that your heart felt full and content. The world always seemed so beautiful when he was there next to you, and you hope he feels the same about you. And you would do anything to show him that you loved him, ‘till the moon and back. 

“Wanna bet that I love you more?” A mischievous look makes its way onto your face, making Kai snicker. “We know who would win” and he flexes his biceps once more, landing his lips right onto your own, unaware of the invasive species that spied through the crack of the door, phones glinting from the glimmering lights.

[supportpunk]

The complete plushie collection! It ended up at an even 90 friends!

The only ones not pictured are one squishmallow I found buried in my closet after this picture was taken and my car buddy Hamburger the forest demon

I also have a whole list of them that I'll put under the cut! Some of the names are very silly :)

1. Big Bear

2. Treasure (Squishmallow cat)

3. Oobleck the elephant

4. Plague Doctor

5. Brighton Bear

6. Big Dog

7. Little Dog

8. Blah the snake

9. Mama Rex

10. Benvolio

11. Vampire Bat

12. Spiderman

13. Pleakley (fish squishmallow)

14. Red Fox (squishmallow)

15. Grogu pillow pet

16. Llama Mama

17. Tiger

18. Puppy trio one

19. Puppy trio two

20. Puppy trio three

21. Elefun (yellow elephant)

22. Taddle Toes the alien

23. Fruity squishmallow (not pictured)

24. Darth Bear-der

25. Clark the supercow

26. Brucie Bear

27. Rico the zomb frog

28. Buffy the rabbit

29. Black Friday Bear

30. Creeper

31. Mona the bearlien

32. BonBon teddy

33. Ferrari the timeless teddy

34. Pawlette the rabbit

35. Melanie the crochet hippo

36. BeeGee the froggie

37. Schlepp the bear

38. Rock lobster the triceratops

39. Sub Zero

40. Dexter dragon

41. Val the cow

42. Hello Kitty squishmallow

43. Miffy

44. Eeyore

45. Piglet

46. Bulbasaur

47. Large lots of love carebear

48. Small lots of love carebear

49. Wish bear

50. Funshine bear

51. Try your best bear

52. Share bear

53. Flat fuck Friday the whale Shark

54. Hammerhead shark

55. Elmo

56. Toothpick the fox

57. Pretty puppy the dog

58. Frank the dog

59. Knuffle bunny

60. Pink puppy

61. Brown puppy

62. Blue puppy

63. Mr. Beaver

64. Rainbow sock monkey

65. Mr. Trooper

66. Mothman

67. Peep

68. Pico the dino

69. Squeaky cow

70. Music box bear

71. Music box triceratops

72. Piggy

73. Raggedy puppy

74. Mushy puppy

75. Monk monk

76. Bunny rattle

77. Bunny lovey

78. Scorch the dragon

79. Luna the wolf

80. Jasmine the rainbow leopard

81. The very hungry caterpillar

82. Smokey Bear

83. Blues clues

84. July beanie baby

85. Fox beanie baby

86. Fawn beanie baby

87. Witch beanie baby

88. Owl squishable 

89. Luna moth squishable

90. Hamburger the forest demon squishable (not pictured)

[urban-witch101]

Time to rate the DGR3 formal outfits part 2

Gothic Bad Bitch

Fashion icon. Just, chefs kiss.

This is a formal event. This look doesn't fit.

But by God I'm a sucker for the military clothes styles. Maybe it's the military brat in me.

It's giving Lolita in the Navy. Not correct for this event.

7/10, I want that dress.

They Have Absolutely Murdered Someone

So I'm going into these sets of characters with zero context. Bear with me.

I like this look - except for the hat.

I love the representation of culture. I've seen the original sprite and wonder why they chose this hat in particular.

I like the hair!

7/10, anyone that's read Above All Else knows I'm a sucker for a low ponytail.

They Have Absolutely Murdered Someone 2.0

Shes

So

CUTE

The ballerina strap heels, the color coordination, the flower, just

Ughhhhhhh

The hair is off-putting to me. I think it should have had something done to it instead of it just being down.

8/10, I like her. She's just neat.

Howdy Y'all

This one's got a Vibe.

1910's in the rural southwestish of America that's the Sherrif Of This Town Somewhere In Utah.

Yeah, that's it.

8/10, have you heard of our lord and savior Jesus Christ-

Evil little man that puts ladies on train tracks

She looks like she's going to take a rabbit our of her hat any second.

She's wearing a romper! Cool!

Cute fit, but she looks more like the entertainment then a guest.

The bow tying with the shoes is a nice touch.

6/10, it's okay.

Checkers Master

I

Have so many opinions about this.

The scarf is magnificent but the pattern is an eyesore.

The fact that the slacks that are stopped at mid-calf are combined with slightly-taller-than-ankle socks is a crime.

I can't tell if he's wearing gloves or if they're just his hands.

3/10, he's wearing clothes I'll take it.

Legally Blonde(TM)

Biiiiiig Elle Woods vibes. Just saying.

I've heard mixed reviews about this character and I'm just gonna say this - I've mentioned this before, this is an event filled with teenagers. DR1 Junko had his same issue where it didn't look like something a teenager would wear. Are the V3 peeps teenagers?? IDFK.

All that aside - I WANT THIS. I want to eminate this. I want the vibe. I want to be knock-off Elle Woods.

7/10, in my closet immediately.

Moon Man

MOON MAN!

Yeah I know he's an astronaut. I think.

2012 called, they want the print on the inside of your coat back.

But otherwise? I like it! The star and moon pins on the coat are a nice touch. The colors are well coordinated. The print on the coat isn't tacky funny enough, it catches the eye enough to recognize the theme. It just works.

10/10, I'm impressed. They did a really good job with this one.

And that's it! Adios.

[leslie057]

part 2 because i hit the image limit and did not even get to my favorite items yet. this is way too long MY BAD.

ballerina music box with kittens on the side. 10/10. she lovessss ballet. and on the topic of athleticism, peep the wilson tennis ball can on the shelf in the background! what a tennis champ.

ballet slippers necklace, which i love so much that its rating would break the scale more than i’ve broken it already. she wore it in her sleep even and i miss it.

jonathan’s flannel (part 1)! 8.5/10

jonathan’s flannel (part 2). going 9.5/10 on this one because of placement. does she just sleep with that every night and hang it back on the bedpost in the morning. because aww.

we’ll keep the boyfriend donations theme going here. BOWIE RIMBAUD POSTER 100/10. this is bisexual on all accounts. bi of him to have Gay Poet Poster. bi of her to hang up Gay Poet Poster in her bedroom. is she reading his poetry now?

if she is, i’m actually going to have to deduct a point i think. not bad like xanadu but who is this turning on?? no one. soo bowie rimbaud poster gets a 99/10? actually no, 100/10 still because i’m sure his nonsexual poetry is good.

koala picture is 10/10. he’s always watching over her from his little tree. in s4 she moved this to the wall facing her bed. so i can only assume she was lonely enough that she started talking to her wall koala. he looks like a good listener though.

0/10. i don’t know what i am looking at but 0/10. it’s a little scary lol.

chemistry flashcards. as bad as i wanna give them a 2/10 for the whole strip studying idea they inspired, i do admire her organization and how much she cares about school. 8/10.

scrunchie! 7/10, very fun but i wish it were way bigger. 

teddy bear. i can’t decide but maybe 7/10. nothing wrong with sleeping with stuffed animals as a sophomore in high school BUT this bear is nothing special to me, not like pluto. i do love though in 1x06 when karen breaks into nancy’s room and they’ve put the teddy bear where jonathan slept.

straw hat on the coat rack. it’s still there in s4 but tilted the other way so safe to say she is using this hat for decorative purposes. 6/10 for how wide the brim is. good sun coverage.

very small detail, but her scallop edge socks are so cute to me. 10/10. her boots aren’t in this screencap but i love those too.

10/10!! someone get this girl a cat! they're all over her room.

last but not least, just the entire risky biz costume. she looked great. if it was steve’s idea, 3/10 for technically getting your girlfriend to go as a sex worker for halloween. if it was her idea, 10/10 because it’s such a look!

this post is way too long but what are your favorite nancy possessions? what did i miss?

rating things owned by nancy elizabeth wheeler

because she’s got a lot of little things. mostly they are very cute and strange little things.

starting off strong we have the prettiest tissue box in the world. 9/10, i think if i were sick it would make me feel better to have such a nice tissue box.

i’m fairly certain this is her diary beside it because her diary looks pink in the upside down version of her bedroom. so this is probably it? 11/10, i want to read it so bad. and very sweet pic with mom—7.5/10.

next up these pinstripe pants !! 10/10 i love them so much. oh and the index finger ring is there obviously, 8/10, such a consistent piece of her character.

a ribbon for being the bestest girl ever in the world. 10/10. also the card of cardinals: 6/10, probably just a christmas card or something rather than a symbol of her love for birds. but i still like it.

mr rabbit gets 11/10 for the name alone. and why does he look dead. i love him. he’s me.

descent from xanadu: QUITE LITERALLY 0/10. at first i was SO excited to cheer her on for reading a sex and drugs book at school but as it turns out? bizarre and gross. seems to go heavy on nonconsensual stuff. i snagged a free pdf and command f’d for whore and bitch. lots of results obviously (one use of c*ck crazy bitch…lovely). it seems men in this book say a lot of sexist stuff that the women pretend to hate but love which i can’t imagine is great for a teenage girl to consume. also just not sexy at all.

literally so bad, and this is not the worst of it.

sooo bad. the author was what 70 (??) writing that his female character got clinically DIAGNOSED with being a slut for every guy she comes in contact with. i know options for sexy literature were probably limited at this time but…please go check out something else. i wanna bonk her on the head with this book (paperback) and hug her. you don’t need to read this to be cool and sexually aware. moving on.

on the other side of that, the blondie calendar gives us a sense of the GOOD media she’s consuming!! a 10/10 no questions asked. we don't really get to see many of her hobbies or interests outside of investigation so this is a much appreciated detail.

of course like all good things in life the blondie calendar does get replaced. its replacement is what i will call Weird Antinaturalist Art Piece #1 seen in her room in s4. i give it a 4/10 because idk what’s going on really.

and here is a very crunchy screencap of Weird Antinaturalist Art Piece #2 from s4 which i will give a 5/10. note the boyfriend typical photography above it, for sure a 10/10.

there is also Weird Antinaturalist Art Piece #3 which gets an 8/10 because i like the composition and the piano player. where did she get this and why. interior decoration is her passion.

the sleeping bag and crochet pillow setup. 7/10. would take a cat nap here.

pluto!! 15/10, the best mickey mouse character i would say. i hope her cousin is taking good care of him.

bulletin board 10/10. i love how obvious it is that she has had this up for forever. probably a nice constant in her life.

and my favorite pic up there is this precious one. look at herrr. 5000/10.

her floral weekender bag. 6/10, i like it, but not as much as i like the speedwalk and the toss into the backseat. she was SO ready for her lab takedown road trip.

trapper keeper is a 9/10 because they probably put anything and everything on trapper keepers back in the day and yet still she chose this lovely understated hot air balloon. elegant.

tom cruise poster is 1000000/10 actually. she is so loyal to that man. actually though not a great pic of him all things considered so maybe i give it a 999999/10. (i love it so much because i know for a fact that jonathan byers works proactively to never acknowledge this poster, because he is more mature than that.) (he is not more mature than that, in fact he is a little pouty about mr cruise.)

KITTY FIGURINE. 10/10. i thought it was just in s4 but i found it on her other nightstand in s1. very very adorable. i imagine it is now one of the first things she sees in the morning (well that and her blue telephone: 8/10) which is bizarre and cute. the mixtape drawer gets a 10/10 for reasons that i don’t think i need to get into.

white fingerless gloves! 10/10. so chic for monster hunting.

black fingerless gloves from s4. hmmm 3/10, they're cool i guess but they don’t feel very nancy and the white ones are so much better. especially because you may get the splatter effect of monster blood on them in a battle scenario, which would be badass.

piggybank (with her name on the side). 2/10 unfortunately i don’t like him. he looks at me like i took out his whole pig village and i just need some quarters. also did she paint this herself? in that case, 3/10 for customization lol.

pastel underwear drawer: 10/10. her committment to the hollistic aesthetic and color palette of her room is impressive here. it was a good idea to use this drawer as a deterrence against her little brother and a money hiding place but clearly he has no manners and is a THIEF.

STRIPED SOCKS. 10/10. i realize it's hard to see because she's moving so fast (slow down he is not going anywhere) but they are indeed stripey even though i would have guessed solid white. and wow what good sleeping socks. stripes are just cozier. hope she got lots of sleep in those.

[amurih]

I know that Squak is going to be the “fun” Uncle for Peep but what if the others? I trying to imagine like Peep describing her mother’s “family” tree and it’s fucking wild man. Like she’s giving like a “ my family tree” presentation to her class:

After a long explanation as to what bad parts of birds Great-grandfather is made up of Peep is ready to share with the class her TOP 5 favorite family members on her Mother’s side.

First is what looks like a professional headshot of a dark skinned man’s with bird like features giving a seductive/suggestive look and an signature autograph of the pen named “Airry Pearry”.

“And here is Uncle Squak, he likes to party hard and write stories with me. Mommy says I can’t have the special drinks and Glad Stuff that she and uncle like to have until I get bigger, but they give me my favorite juice and candy so I can have fun too!”

Peep slides over to the next set of people on the board labeled Andhera and BINX. A picture of a handsome tall man with a small cloud over his head standing next to a shorter woman with a choppy bob and moth wings on her back. Both look like a deer in the headlights spooked from having their picture taken in grubby shirts, stretchy leggings, and mismatched socks.

“And here is Uncle Andhera and Aunt BINX; uncle is the prince of the Unseelie Court and can fold so many animal out of paper, and knows a lot about caves! Auntie has a HUGE collection of cool stuff that people forgot! Uncle also has a dog with a face of an old man named Grandpa Dog! It even speaks! Aunt BINX gives me hot chocolate when we go camping outside and always has a warm blanket for when it gets cold.”

They then slide their fingers to the last two names in front of the children. Both Huge and monstrous beings wearing really fancy clothing. One with the face of a canine, many teeth and sharp claws. The other the head of a green barn owl but the body of a bear wearing flowers on them.

“And here is Uncle Hob and Auncle Rue. Uncle Hob is big and scary looking at first, but he is very soft and gentle and lets me ride his horse with him. I once saw him punch a tree in half while getting the fire wood on our camping trip with Aunt BINX and Uncle Andera. Auncle Rue is so pretty and always wears the nicest clothes. I like to dress up with them and have our tea parties! They used to plan and host BIG parties for everyone in all the realms of the fey wild.Mommy, and Uncle Squak, and Uncle Andhera, and Aunt BINX, and Uncle Hob met at one of their parties. They like to play matchmaker.”

[birdlungg]

Hello! I saw your post about the requests, I'm happy someone write for Stargate!. So, what about Teal'c x Reader where they are stranded on a planet and have to deal with enemies or a monster trying to find them to attack them while also dealing with their undisclosed feelings for each other? I let it open enough so you can write it as you prefer but I do hope both Teal'c and Reader survive the planet! Thank you!

YESS OMFG

TEAL’C MY LOVE

Hope you like its its been a minute since I’ve seen sg1

Peep the annihilation reference

———————————————————————————————————

You’re holding your throbbing ankle and trying to choke back tears as Teal’c reaches you at the bottom of the embankment you had just tumbled down. You’re outrunning a giant bear-like creature with a skull for a face and the terrifying ability to mimic human speech. It seemed to have picked up Sam yelling “Run!” As you all were separated and it was now taunting you as it hunted you through the the forest.

You had only been part of the SG1 away team for about a year now as the new zoologist and had grown quite close to all four members, but you had a sort of connection with Teal’c. You were in love with the alien but doubted it was reciprocated. Sometimes though when he looked at you with a soft look in his eyes, you begin to wonder. 

“Are you alright?” He asks as he crouches down next to your shaking form resting against the base of a large tree.

You nod, and slowly peel your sock away from you ankle and wiggle your toes. It’s not broken thankfully, but there’s no way you’d be able to walk on it. 

“It’s not broken, but Teal’c, listen to me. You need to leave me here and get back to the gate. You can come back with help but you need to go.” You look him right in the eyes as you say it so he know’s that you mean business. He frowns, looking at you with an intense look in his beautiful brown eyes. 

“I am not leaving you here alone. We will fare much better together than apart against that beast.” You stare at each other for a moment when suddenly, you hear something crashing toward you through the bushes. Teal’c moves quickly, and points his Zat gun in the direction, throwing an arm in front of you protectively. The move make your chest feel warm, and you grab onto his arm with one hand and unholster your handgun, pointing it in the direction of whatever is coming your way.

You both hold your breath as the creature bursts through the line of bushes and see… cubs? 

“Oh my god.” You breathe. There are two miniature versions of the horrid creature from before looking at you and sniffing the air. If you weren’t scared out of your pants you would almost say that they were cute. They just sit there looking at you and you at them. 

Teal’c twitches like he’s about to shift and your grip on his arm tightens. 

“Don’t move!” You whisper to him. He shifts his head towards you almost imperceptibly as you speak. “We must have wandered into their territory. The one from before must be their mother. Don’t make any sudden movements.”

After a moment, a gut wrenching animal scream is heard in the distance, and the cubs turn and run towards the sound. You both stay still for another moment, before finally relaxing when nothing else happens. Teal’c turns to you as you holster your gun and shift for your own comfort. 

“Can you walk?” He asks, voice full of concern.

You shake your head at him. “I don’t think sO-” In one fluid movement, he picks you up bridal style while still holding his weapon. You gasp and quickly wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. You stare into each other’s eyes for what seems like a moment too long, before he turns his head and starts walking. 

———————————————————————————————————

The next morning after getting medical attention, your ankle is wrapped tightly and you’re confined to crutches for a few weeks while you heal up. You’ve just opened the door to your quarters to grab some breakfast when you startle when you see Teal’c standing there. 

“Oh, Teal’c! Did you need something?” You ask, hands twitching on your crutches.

“I was wondering if I could accompany you to breakfast.” He says, stepping aside so you can move through the doorway. You smile at him as he looks at you warmly.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

[bugsbucky]

Wrong Side of The Bed

Bucky Barnes x Reader (Platonic)

Request: Could I request one where Bucky is in a bad mood and accidentally snaps at reader who is very shy and timid and she spends the day in her room and won't even come out for dinner? Fluffy ending if possible?

Warnings: language, Bucky snaps under pressure, angst, fluff :)

Word Count: 1,438

Authors Notes: thank you so much for the request anon!!! Hope this exceeds your imagine :) thank you very much for reading.

Requested by: Anonymous

The compound was very quiet as you took light steps towards the common room, nibbling your thumb nail on the journey. It was around 8am and still early, most of the team were away on missions or still asleep. There were just a few left at the compound to house sit; you, Bucky, Tony and Bruce. They spent most of their time in the lab working on some unnamed scientific projects so you were more often than not left to your own devices around the home. 

As you stepped into the open kitchen, you froze in your place. Bucky was leaning on the counter with his head propped up in his hand, spooning big mouthfuls of cereal in his mouth, milk dripping off the spoon and disappearing into his beard. You tried to make yourself invisible and as quiet as possible as you walked around the counter and poured some coffee.

“What, you’re not even gonna say good morning?” Bucky scoffed from his seat. With glossy eyes, you turned to look at him, astonished he would speak to you like that because he never has in the past.

“Go- good morning Sergeant Barnes.” your voice was cracked and quiet as you spoke. A shy and timid young individual not used to being called out like that. You could tell today wasn’t going to be a good day just by the scowl etched on Bucky’s face. He had deep bags under his eyes and you were wondering if he was okay.

“Good morning peeps!” Tony sighed walking in and seeing the thunderous look on Bucky’s face. “Good morning to you grump.” 

“Fuck off Tony.” your heart thudded painfully in your chest by his tone. This was definitely a different side to Bucky, one you have not seen yet. Tony left with his coffee and walked into the common room to fiddle with the large TV mounted on the wall.

“Um Bucky, would you like some more coffee?” you asked quietly, the liquid splashing inside the pot from your shaking hands.

“NO!” his voice boomed through the quiet kitchen. “Does it look like I’m an incapable old man who can’t make his own coffee?”

“Of course not, I just thought I would offer to-”

"JUST DROP IT Y/N! I'm so sick of you acting like my fuckin' caretaker, always following me around like some weird... you know what. Forget it." Bucky roared inches from your face. Throwing his cup against the tiled wall behind you, shattering the porcelain into pieces.

You flinched by his sudden outburst, covering your face. You didn’t mean to make him angry. But your question had somehow triggered him and now you were leaning against the cupboard fiddling with the hem of your shirt awkwardly. Tears already spilling.

You were shy by nature. So being screamed at by the man you most respected caused you to turn to mush. Your legs were jelly and your chin wobbled when Tony rushed in to see what was going on. Eyes widened in shock from the mess on the floor and the state of you.

"Y/N? Are you okay? Did he- did he hurt you?" Tony asked reluctantly. Knowing full well that Bucky would never, ever hurt you. But by your trembling state he had to make sure.

"Fine." Your voice cracked. Blinking harshly to will away the tears wanting to overflow. "I'm just..." You pushed away from the unit, pointing towards the door. Your wobbly legs carried you back to your room. Your mind clouded in a thick fog. You knew you were walking but it felt like you were floating.

***

Bucky regretted his outburst. You were one of the sweetest and most angelic people on the team, you weren’t rowdy like the others. He was laying on his back in his bed staring up at the ceiling with his hands under his head. He woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, no sleep last night from the realistic nightmare that plagued his dreams. Bucky was tired and exhausted, physically and mentally. 

To calm himself down, Bucky decided to take a hot shower. They always made him feel a little bit better, he would certainly need to change his ugly mood before he could apologize to you. He walked into his conjoined bathroom and turned the shower on, stripping himself of his clothes and standing under the raining shower head, letting the hot water trickle down over his face and down his chest. Droplets racing against each other, his hands ran through his damp locks as he shook your distressed state from his mind. *** You spent the day huddled up on your bed, skipping dinner and cuddling your large teddy bear Bucky had bought you for your birthday. The bears were a comfort since you were scared of thunderstorms. Your eyes were red from crying and your cheeks were still wet as you made no effort to wipe them. The rain pelted against the window panes and the sky was dark with rain clouds. You gently placed your bear on the floor and got up to close your blinds, slipping into your most comfortable pair of pyjamas and dimmed the lights, you climbed under the duvet and looked for something to watch on Netflix. 

You’re not sure what time it was, or how much time had passed when a knock on your door jolted you awake suddenly. The netflix logo screen staring back at you from afar. 

“Come in.” you croaked, your voice tired from sleep and crying yourself to death earlier. Bucky’s hulking figure walked in, a guilty and puppy dog look on his face. You took a second to marvel at his incredible physique. A tight white shirt pulled across his chest, showcasing his incredible pecs that you often found yourself blushing at every time you saw them, matched perfectly with his grey sweatpants and white socks. 

This was not the time Y/N. He yelled at you, remember?

“Hey doll. Can I talk to you?” Bucky asked sheepishly. He looked tired, but calmer.

“Of course.” you patted the empty spot next to you on the bed and Bucky smiled, taking a few strides over towards your bed and making himself comfortable. You sat up, crossing your legs and faced him. His shower gel permeated your room, overtaking the vanilla scented candle on your nightstand.

“I uh…” he shook his head and clicked his tongue. His tongue poking through his dry lips to wet them. “I’m really really sorry for what I said to you today. I hope you know I meant none of it. I was and am just so tired, no sleep.” he explained and you worried your lip with your teeth, taking bits of skin off from the surface. Bucky became worried when you didn’t speak but instead acting anxious and nervous around him. He knew he scared you earlier but he needed you to know he would never hurt you. 

“I’m really sorry I scared you earlier doll. I promise I didn’t mean to, it really did just get on top of me and I promise I’ll never do that again. I’m the biggest idiot.” a lopsided smile appeared on his face and you couldn’t help but mimic the action.

“I’m really sorry that I made you angry.” you said in barely a whisper, dipping your head in shame. Bucky sat up and pulled you into his lap, your head resting against his chest above his heart as his fingers trailed through your hair. 

“I want to make something clear…” his chest vibrated against your face as he spoke. “You did NOT make me angry. You did nothing but show your kindness towards me and you did not deserve those words thrown at you doll and I am seriously so sorry. You’re such an angel and I couldn’t stop thinking about you the whole day.” You craned your neck upwards and smiled. Bucky sought confidence and kissed your forehead as a blush petted your cheeks adorably. “Why are you such a sweetheart, doll? You should kick my ass.” 

You giggled and Bucky hugged you tighter. “I accept your apology.” Bucky smiled at that, and pressed another kiss to your forehead, this time his lips lingered a little longer.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Do you wanna watch a movie?” you nodded your head enthusiastically and went to move off his lap when his arms tightened, eliciting a giggle from you. “I’m gonna go grab us some snacks and drinks and then I’m gonna cradle you in my arms.” 

Your adorable shy giggle pulled at his heart strings and he would keep his promise and absolutely make it up to you in whatever way he could.

Tags: @jobean12-blog @marvelgirl7 @godofplumsandthunder @hawksmagnolia @deanthedemon @crushedbyhyperbole @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @littleredstarfish​

[itsjustmyfantasyroom]

School Girl Attitude part 2

Master List

Warnings: SVU crimes, talks of SVU and Smut

WC:1695

Enjoy x

 “Hope you two didn’t have any plans for Easter weekend” Liv looked between you and Sonny.

“I can always go by myself if Sonny is busy” you said back to Liv trying not to sound snappy.

You and Sonny hadn’t spoken since the undercover night. Amanda was with you most of the time to help with the girls. The two foster girls, you guys had managed to place them into good homes when they came out of the hospital and the two girls with the families, you were going to drive them back to Philadelphia once they were discharged. All the other girls were put into half way houses.

“Na I’ am good- I want to see this case through till the end” Sonny look over at you while you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Ok good. I have booked your rooms, you guys will probably be tired to drive back once it’s all over with. Y/N I spoke to your old Captain, he is getting all the paper work ready for you to close the cases”

“Thanks Liv” You gave her a nod as you walked out of her office.

Sonny walked out a moment later and you weren’t at your desk. He slowly made his way to the on call room and noticed the door was closed, he knocked and opened the door. You were on the phone and hadn’t heard him come in,

“Well less than impressed if I’ am honest, but it’s all been organised” You turned around and saw Sonny standing there leaning on the wall next to the closed door, hands in his pockets smirking, your eyes wide with surprised “Ah- Rafi, I’ll call you later” you hung up the phone and took a deep breath.

“So what time should I pick you up tomorrow morning? The girls are getting out around 9 yeah” Sonny was watching your face for your reaction.

“Ah yeah- I’ll just meet you at the hospital and we can go from there” a small tight smile came to your face “I better get back to work” you went to walk towards the door when Sonny stepped between you and it.

“Y/N what’s going on? You have been weird snice the sting”

“Nothing” you looked down at your feet.

“Don’t insult me by lying to me Y/N, I know ya well enough by now”

“Well Sonny, if you know me so well then you should know how you upset me”

The room fell silent, Sonny straightened up and put his hands on his hips, you still looking down.

“This is all about Barba’s message isn’t it? And the undercover sitting on my lap?”

You didn’t say anything, you kept looking down. Sonny closed the gap between you, using his pointer finger under your chin and lifting your head to look at him. As soon as your eyes met his crystal blues you sighed taking in a deep breath.

Sonny lent down, his lips landing on yours. He moved his hand from your face and wrapped it around your waist pulling you into him. You moved your hands to either side of his neck and melted into the kiss.  Sonny’s free hand rubbing up and down your back. Sonny pulled back and rubbed the tip of your nose with his, smiling hard the crinkles coming beside his eyes.

“I’ am sorry for checking out those girls, I couldn’t believe how short their skirts were- and the undercover, we were just playing the part, I’ll never forget all 50 states after that.” Sonny lent down and kissed you lightly on the lips again “Please let me pick you up in the morning?”

“Ok” you nodded back leaning up to kiss him deeply.

****

The day had been long, busy and emotional. All your time as an officer and then detective, nothing had moved you as much as returning the two girls home. The girls hugged both you and Sonny thanking you and both sets of parents hugging and shaking both your hands over and over again. Finally all the paper work was done and your old squad asked you and Sonny to come out for dinner and drinks at a bar just down the road from your hotel.

You and Sonny both went into your separate rooms to shower and get ready. You straightened your hair, done some light make up with pink gloss, put on a pair of black skinny jeans, a navy lace peplum top and black slides. You had just slid your id, hotel key and some cash in your jeans pocket when there was a knock at your door. You looked through the peep hole, swung it open to Sonny in a grey long sleeve Henley, dark jeans, brown leather jacket and black runners.

“Ready?” Sonny smirked at you leaning in to kiss your lips.

“Yeah” you rested your hand on his hip.

You guys hadn’t spoken about the kiss that happened in the on call room, but the air was thick with tension of the good kind. You couldn’t wait to see how the night would unfolded after he kissed you hello. You closed your room door, Sonny wrapped his arms around your shoulders, yours around his middle, as you both started to walk towards the bar.

“One more shot and we will call it a night?” Sonny nodded back at you.

Most of your old squad had left because of work the next day and you and Sonny didn’t need to get back to the city till late not having work till the day after. As you waited for the waitress to bring your shot over, Sonny moved his chair close to you and lent in, leaning one arm on the table in front of you and grabbing your upper thigh with his other,

“You look beautiful tonight ya know that” Sonny looked down at your lips, you giggled back “Do we really need that shot?”

You lent closer and ghosted your lips with his, you shock your head no, standing to walk out of the bar, you turned back and looked over your shoulder at Sonny who was looking at your ass as you walked, he jumped up grabbing his jacket running to catch up with you. Sonny all but pulled you back to the hotel from the Bar by your hand,

“Sonny, babe you need to slow down” you said puffed out. You squalled in surprise when he let go of your hand, wrapping his arms around your waist to throw you over his shoulder.

“Sonny Carisi put me down” you screamed.

Not listening, Sonny was back at his room door. He pulled the room key from his pocket and swiped it opening the door stepping inside. Still on his shoulder, he closed the door and flipped the lock. He walked over to the bed and threw you on it just enough for you to bounce off it slightly. He ripped off his jacket, you spread your legs and he was on top of you between them kissing down your neck, resting his arms next your head. You wrapped your legs around his waist pulling his hips into you, you gasped when you felt his hard bulge. You ran your hands to the hem of his shirt and pulled it up over his head throwing it onto the floor.

“I have wanted you for so long Y/N” He brushed his thumb over your cheek looking into your eyes.

“Me too” you ran your palms over his naked sides.

“You have too many cloths on” Sonny winked at you.

You dropped your legs from around his waist, Sonny got up off the bed to stand. You knelt in the middle of the bed after throwing your slides off, making a show of slowly pulling off your top and then your bra. Once Sonny saw you bear chest he rid himself of his shoes, socks, jeans and boxers. Your mouth dropped open when you saw his size and your panties dampened even more.

“Take your jeans and panties off amore” Sonny said to you with hooded eyes while he stood there stroking himself.

You laid back on the bed, pushing your jeans and panties off throwing them on the floor with the rest of your cloths. You looked up at Sonny again opening your legs and he was back on top of you. Sonny’s lips came crashing down on yours again, you opened your mouth so he could deepen it, grinding his hard member against your wet core.  

“Sonny please, I need you”

“So needy baby. I want to take my time with you. I need to get a condom”

“I have an IUD” Sonny smirked and grinded into your centre “Sonny” you whined “You have taken your time- 3 years of it” Sonny chuckled and moved his hips back slightly, you could feel the head of his cock parting your lower lips slowly.

“I shouldn’t have waited so long” Sonny slid straight in bottoming out, him grunting you moaning at the feeling “You feel amazing babe” Sonny started to roll is hips slowly.

“Oh Sonny-faster” you moaned out.

That’s all Sonny needed to start pounding into you, you bucking your hips up. You tightened your muscles around Sonny’s length, his jaw going slack.

“Oh babe just like that” he huffed “I- fuc-“

Your coil in your belly was the tightest it could wind, Sonny could feel your juices coating his cock and it turned him on even more. You bucked your hips and Sonny thrusted hard,

“Dominick” you screamed, your body on fire as your realise bolted through you. You screaming his first name sent Sonny over the edge as his release spilt into you, Sonny resting his forehead on your neck till he started to go soft, pulling out dropping to your side on the bed. Sonny pulled you into him and he kissed you all over your face, you resting your hand on his chest. He pulled back and rested his forehead on yours,

“Tomorrow before I drop you home, I want to take you to my parents- as my girlfriend” Sonny lent down and kissed you deeply.

Tags: @detective-giggles​ @the-baby-bookworm​ @thatesqcrush​ @permanentlydizzy​ @averyhotchner​ @infiniteoddball​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @wanniiieeee @shittanyy

[mimicteruyo]

Of a Feather

[Touhou Ship Week Day 4: Nature. KomaEiki, 1.3k, fluff]

---

"I assume you have a very interesting excuse for this, Komachi."

Komachi froze where she stood. That was to be expected, given that Eiki had just caught her with her scythe, shoes, and socks discarded to the side, one hand already on the tree she clearly intended to climb. A tree which was a fair distance from Sanzu River, much further than anyone could be reasonably expected to stray from it during a work day. A work day which could hardly be called such, considering Eiki hadn't received a single soul to judge.

However, the similarly expected string of apologies didn't follow. Komachi's face shone with guilt as she settled back down, but she said nothing. Her other hand remained cupped somewhat awkwardly against her collarbone, clearly hiding something.

In spite of her frustration, Eiki couldn't help being curious. "Did you find something?"

"As it happens, I did. A little foundling." With that, Komachi turned her hand to reveal a mottled jumble of grey and yellowish down. The small bird darted its head around, fixing its beady eyes on one thing after another, then gave an indignant peep.

"Ah." Eiki leaned closer without thinking, her smile re-emerging. The chick turned to glare at her but made no move to escape. It was at least a week too young to know how to fly yet, let alone how to survive on its own. "Is it injured?"

"I couldn't find anything wrong with it. Good thing all that fluff protected you, huh?" Komachi smiled as the chick let out another peep, then turned to reassess the tree. "So, back into the nest it goes, assuming I can find it. The chick was underneath that branch, but visibility isn't exactly great with all those leaves in the way."

"This is a cavity-nesting species, isn't it?"

"That's right. So, if you spot anything—"

"There." It wasn't immediately discernible through the labyrinth of branches, but there was a suggestion of a small hollow close to where Komachi had pointed earlier. As if to confirm the finding, several high-pitched bird voices rose in a chorus from within the tree. "I can't see how anything larger than a bird could reach it, however. Flying is out of the question, but even climbing..."

"I'll manage. Here." Komachi slid the chick onto Eiki's palm, so weightless Eiki had to look down to ascertain she was in fact holding the bird, then swung herself onto the first branch. She climbed up so quickly and effortlessly Eiki could scarcely believe this was the same shinigami who could sometimes take half a day ferrying a single soul across. Within moments, she had snaked through the worst knot, and soon after, partially obscured by leaves, she peered into the hole in the trunk. "Anybody home?"

A cacophony of peeps responded. Komachi lowered herself back down through the knot. "Guess what, Lady Eiki? Charon has six siblings."

Eiki waited for her to climb back down to the lowest branch, as limber as she had been going up, then relinquished the chick with a smile. "You named it?"

"Suits it, doesn't it? Don't you agree, Charon?"

Charon, back to resting snugly in Komachi's palm, didn't appear to either know or care that it was being addressed. It kept darting its head around, letting out the occasional peep.

"Well said. Either way, it's time to go home." Komachi ascended a few branches, then halted, considering her options. Without warning, she stood up as calmly as if she were on solid ground,  rising to her tiptoes and pushing her arm through the widest hole between the branches until her Charon-bearing palm was level with the hole. "Final stop, Charon. And... there you go." The bird slipped into the nest, appearing almost as if it were burrowing its way into the trunk. "That's better. Now, make sure to behave and—"

Whatever further life advice she had meant to dispense at the chick came to an abrupt halt when a tiny but all the more ferocious ball of feathers darted through the air, shrilling out a loud warning cry before swooping at Komachi.

Komachi gave a start. Her surprise only lasted for a heartbeat, but it was all the time needed for her to jerk back and step onto thin air.

A second heartbeat, and a third. Not enough time to think of flight. Plenty enough to fall. Just barely enough for Eiki to take a single running step forward, her arms darting out.

The impact more than the weight made Eiki's knees buckle. She squeezed her eyes shut and managed to straighten up before toppling over, clutching onto her sudden charge with all her might until she was certain they were both steady. She blinked her eyes open and found herself with one arm underneath Komachi's upper back, the other resting beneath the crook behind her knees, perfectly in balance.

She twisted her hand so that the Rod of Remorse wouldn't dig into Komachi's arm. "Are you all right?"

Komachi blinked slowly, as stunned as if she had fallen from the top of Youkai Mountain instead of a branch fifteen feet from the ground. The smile that spread across her face was on the sly side. "Would you hold it against me if I told you this is the best part of my day so far?"

The mother bird chose that exact moment to make its continued wrath known. With a flutter, the other mother bird joined its side.

Eiki began to back away. "I believe we have overstayed our welcome."

"Good luck, Charon!" Komachi kept smiling as they made a brisk retreat until a sudden frown crossed her features. "Wait! My shoes!"

---

Some time later and at a safe distance from the nest, Eiki waited for Komachi to gear up before speaking. "You did a good deed helping the chick today. I never knew you missed your calling as a squirrel youkai."

As Komachi straightened up, her grin morphed to the slightly sickly smile of someone who knew precisely where the conversation was heading. "However?"

"However... why were you so far from the river in the first place? And why haven't I seen any evidence that you have worked today?"

Cue the excuses and sincere apologies that would nevertheless crumble like burnt paper. Only, neither followed. Komachi nodded, uncharacteristically grave. Usually, even her more sombre moods came with a smile. "You're right. I messed up today. I promise I'll make it up to you."

Eiki frowned. "You know very well that's not what this is about."

She had significantly more to say on the subject, but Komachi hastened to speak first. "I know, Lady Eiki. How about something to say I'm sorry for making you look for me instead?"

"None of that during work hours." But when Komachi stepped closer, Eiki allowed her to place a kiss on her cheek, regardless.

"Oh no, I'm mixing work and personal life in one of the most inoffensive ways possible." The evident sarcasm was enough for Eiki to open her mouth in objection before she saw the smile on Komachi's face, so fond and carefree it was clear she had meant the words with affection alone. "I'll work hard for the rest of the day, I promise. And if what I did just now was wrong, maybe someone righteous and cute should give me a lecture on appropriate workplace conduct."

Eiki found her lips curling upward in spite of herself. "I take that to mean you would in fact listen to one."

"I promise to at least try."

And Komachi did listen for at least some of their walk through the meadows and woodlands and fields of flowers back to Sanzu River. And if they happened to hold hands for much of the same walk, that was perfectly white.

[todoscript]

Corps-à-Corps [ 1 ]

Parts | one ; two

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

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

Pairing | Fencer!Todoroki Shouto x Fencer!Reader

Words | 10.7K+

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Allez!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ahem.”

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

“Can I help you, miss?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“En-garde.”

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

“Prêtz?”

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

“Allez!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“L/n Y/n, though just Y/n is fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did I do something to bother you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You see it too, don’t you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Interested in any particular majors?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shouto

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

⇒ [ 4:13 ] — shouto?

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

⇒ Shouto [ 4:13 ] — yes?

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

⇒ [ 4:14 ] — you sly dog

.

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Holding hands, going on dates, exchanging—

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

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

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

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

“What’s up?”

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

“Todoroki.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘Overthinking’?” he repeats.

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, Y/n, thanks for waiting!”

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

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

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

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

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

[dark-and-twisty-01]

DiAngelo is the only survivor of the largest mass suicide on American soil. He found the bodies of his 39 friends lying with plastic bags over their heads, wearing neat black tracksuits with an 'Away Team' patch and Nike trainers. Now we discover why he was left behind...

It was midday when Rio DiAngelo arrived at the hilltop mansion overlooking San Diego to find all the windows closed, the curtains drawn, and outdoor lights burning in the sunshine. The front door was locked, but he found a side door ajar and warily pushed it open.

The unmistakable stench of death made him gag and he covered his face with his shirtsleeve, which still smelled of cologne from his morning shower. As he walked through the eerie silence, he knew what he would find. And he dreaded it. Upstairs, 39 of his friends lay dead in their beds after the largest mass suicide on American soil. All members of a bizarre cult, they had each downed a lethal cocktail of vodka, barbiturates and apple sauce to leave their 'earthly containers' and join an alien spaceship trailing the Hale-Bopp comet.Yelling out in case anyone was still alive, DiAngelo raced from room to room. But all he found were bodies with plastic bags over their heads. Each one wore a neat black tracksuit with an 'Away Team' patch and Nike trainers with their comet-trail trademark. The 21 women and 18 men had each packed a small bag for the journey, and have five dollars in their pocket. Thoughtful to the end, each had left a note saying. 'I forced myself to go into each room and check everyone,' said DiAngelo. 'With each body I came across, the loss became too much to bear. They were my closest friends. I loved them dearly.'

DiAngelo, who's real name is Richard Ford, became involved with the Heaven's Gate Cult in 1994 after attending one of their meetings in a California hotel or 'Cultifornia' as sceptics often call the state that spawned Charles Manson and the Reverend Jim Jones. He had listened while nine androgynous-looking members wearing identical loose clothes and cropped hair described their absolute belief in aliens, the paranormal, and reincarnation. One of them was 59 year old Thomas Nichols whose sister, Nichelle, played Star Trek's Lieutenant Uhura. Forbidden to have sex, hug each other, or even shake hands, the Heaven's Gate cultists concentrated on purifying their bodies and spirits ready for the move to 'an advanced level of being' on another planet or dimension. They called each other brother or sister, observed daily rituals, and were allowed to watch only selected TV programmes. Individual needs were minimised so that a member who had run out of deodorant, for example, would have to apply for a new one in writing.Anyone entering the immaculately clean mansion referred to as 'the temple' had to take off their shoes and wear surgical socks. Silence prevailed, and many of their neighbours assumed they were 'a bunch of monks.' In line with their belief that they had been sent to earth as angels, six members were castrated and, according to DiAngelo, 'they couldn't stop smiling and giggling about it.'

On some days, members had to report to their superiors every 12 minutes while on other days they were required to wear a cone on their heads as they would in alien bodies. Many common words were changed so that members would not remember their human past once they had ascended into space. For instance, house became 'craft' and kitchen became 'nutri-lab.' Their 65 year old leader Marshall Applewhite had started the cult in 1972 with Bonnie Nettles whom he had met while undergoing treatment for homosexuality in a psychiatric hospital. They had abandoned their human names and called themselves Guinea and Pig, then Bo and Peep, before finally settling on Do and Ti.Ti died of cancer in 1985, But Do, claiming he was Jesus reincarnated, said he continued to communicate with her. The group survived financially by running a successful web page design firm which they also used to try and win converts and spread their message. Their own website featured pictures of stars and nebulae downloaded from NASA and appeared very businesslike. It also stated that suicide is acceptable for cult members who want to ascent to 'a higher level of life.' Heaven's Gate shared some of the beliefs of 19th century occultists like novelist Mark Twain. In 1907, Twain wrote a short story about a hero leaving Earth for 'an extended excursion among the heavenly bodies' on the trail of a comet. He took his passport and five dollars for the fare. Despite their fantastic beliefs, DiAngelo was converted and lived in this eccentric community for nearly three years. I'd just turned forty and recently divorced and I was trying to find meaning in life,' he said. 'I'd had a fairly troubled past that included a violent, unstable mother and other bad relationships. The group shared my interest in UFOs, music and Eastern Religions.

But in, December 1995, Do's teaching took a more sinister turn and DiAngelo later recalled that he 'sat us all down and told us that we might have to leave our bodies behind. Amazingly, we didn't really have a problem with that. We trusted Do implicitly. 'We found a suicide recipe that used phenobarbital, vodka and apple sauce, and Do and some of his helpers went to Mexico to buy enough of the drug for the entire group.'  Eleven months later, an amateur astronomer took a photo of the Hale-Bopp comet, which showed a mysterious oval-shaped object trailing in its wake. Although NASA later described it a 'proto-comet' 2,000 miles behind Hale-Bopp, other astronomers dismissed the sighting as a hoax or error. Hale-Mary, as it was called, has not been seen since. Do, however, convinced his followers that it was a spaceship coming to take them away and that his deceased partner, Ti, was flying it. Seeing significance in everything, he told then that Hale-Bopp even had the same initials as Helena Blavatsky, another 19th century occultist with whom the group shared beliefs. Having decided on this 'Star-gate' plan, the group prepared to enjoy a final spree on Earth by spending some surplus money. They went to Las Vegas and stayed at the Stratosphere Hotel, and rode the rollercoaster and the Big Shot free-fall ride. A week later they went to see Star Wars and visited the San Diego wild animal park and Sea World. For their 'last supper,' they booked a table for 39 at a local restaurant where waiter Eric Morales was struck by their politeness and helpfulness. 'From the moment they arrived, all austerely dressed and looking the same, I knew this would be no ordinary shift,' he said. 'I made a joke to sort of set the mood and when I returned to their table five minutes later they were still laughing at it. You could tell they didn't get out a lot. 'All thirty nine ordered exactly the same: turkey pie, salad, blueberry cheesecake and iced tea. They were very pleasant, but guarded. When asked where they were from they said things like 'from the car' and 'from all over.' Six days later, employees at the restaurant watched news footage in amazement when they realised the oddball diners they had served had gone straight home and killed themselves. 'It was the last time they were going to be together,' said Morales. 'The bill came to three hundred and fifty one dollars which included a twenty six dollar tip. Our manager was so taken with them, he stood in the doorway and shook hands with each one as they left.' A month before the suicides, DiAngelo decided he wanted to leave the commune. He moved to Beverly Hills, and began working for a web design company. 'I left with Do's permission,' he said/. 'I told him I felt I had something to do outside...like a task. I think part of it was to explain to the world the philosophy of Heaven's Gate and the sort of people they were. Be an instrument of clarification. 'I believed Do was from another planet. He taught me to be more aware, honest and sensitive to the world. In short, a better person. What I gained from the group was phenomenal.

On March 27th, 1997, a parcel arrived at DiAngelo's office. It contained an upbeat farewell video and a message saying: 'By the time you read this we will have exited our bodies.' 'There was no mention of sadness or fear, but rather an air of excitement and anticipation. The cult he called 'his closest brothers and sisters' were aged between 26 and 72 and are believed to have died in three groups - 15 the first day, 15 the next, and nine on the third. In the heat of the Californian spring, many of the bodies had already begun to decompose by the time DiAngelo discovered them. Eager to be helpful, they cleaned up after each round of dying and had even taken out the rubbish. Police found handguns, rifles, and ammunition at the mansion which DiAngelo believed Marshall Applewhite had assembled because he feared a Waco-like siege by the FBI. He had also spent, $1,000 on an insurance policy that would pay out a million dollars each for up to 50 people in the event of abduction by aliens. The company said Heaven's Gate were one of 4,000 policyholders worldwide who had bought alien abduction insurance, with Britain and the USA being their biggest markets. The aftermath of the Heaven's Gate deaths was predictably prosaic. San Diego County planned to auction off their belongings - worth an estimated $1 million and give the proceeds to surviving family members. But  DiAngelo claimed that his brothers and sisters wanted him to inherit the web design firm and announced his intention of settling the matter in court. Neighbours living on the same street as the group campaigned to change it's name after crowds of 'strange visitors'  kept arriving to pray there. And the $1.6 million mansion itself proved unsellable because of it's gruesome associations and the obstinate smell of formaldehyde in its air conditioning. Two months after the suicide pact, two former members of Heaven's Gate also tried to 'exit their earthly vehicles' in a Holiday Inn four miles from the cult's mausoleum. They were dressed and prepared exactly the same as their departed brothers and sisters. One died immediately. The other was found unconscious, and went on to evangelise for the cult, touring the country with a 70-minute video of the bug-eyed Marshall Applewhite. He killed himself the following year in Heaven's Gate style after telling his friends that he would 'rather gamble on missing the bus this time than stay on this planet and risk losing my soul.' DiAngelo went on to apply the computer skills he had learned from Heaven's Gate to his earthly life. He auctioned off the cult's van on eBay and signed a deal to write a TV movie based on his experiences. But the project never got off the ground. A tabloid offered him $1 million for exclusive rights to his story. At the time he refused, preferring to preserve the dignity of his departed friends. Upon reflection, he later said he should have taken the money. 'I've been on a rollercoaster over the last decade,' he said in 2007. 'I still miss my friends so much and I still haven't met anyone who can compare to them. Not a day goes by that I don't think about them. 'I'm the last Heaven's Gate member on Earth, so there must be a reason why I'm still here. But although I still want to live like them, dying like them definitely isn't part of my plan.' DiAngelo re-established contact with his 19 year old son and confessed he was now 'a slave to commerce like everybody else.' Ten years on he was still haunted by the events of that terrible day, but relieved that he didn't join his friends in the mass suicide which shocked the world. The group's website is still maintained by two individuals allegedly surviving members who left after 12 years to get married (forbidden within the group which prized gender-free platonic relationships) prior to the group's exodus to the 'Next Evolutionary Level.' They confirmed in a statement on the 20th anniversary of the mass suicide that Heaven's Gate no longer existed but that the site remained available to those seeking information about their beliefs.

The world's fascination with the extraordinary actions Heaven's Gate undertook is yet to abate...

[elsanna-shenanigans]

June Contest Submission #17: The Little Match Girl

Words: ca. 5,000 Setting: HCACU (Hans Christian Andersen Cinematic Universe) / “Snow Queen” x “The Little Match Girl” crossover Lemon: no CW: Non-graphic mentions of child abuse. Non-descriptive mentions of parent death. Mean idiot kids. MCD (Mayor Character Death) (SPOILERS: she’s a happy spirit by the end). Freezing. Near-death hallucinations. Period typical stupidity (mid 19th century)

.

It was a horribly cold and dark evening, and the snow fell like a thick swarm of white bees which swirled and swooshed about seeking their next victim. The grey walls of the town’s buildings were just as grey as the clouds that curled above it. Among the piles and gross patches of muddy wet snow, a little girl, no older than eight, chased after her scarf, which had been blown off when a carriage with horses rattled by. The scarf had belonged to her mother, and it was the only reminder of her, for she’d been dead before her smallest daughter was old enough to know her. The scarf was also the warmest article the girl had since she’d lost her hat and her shoes running down the road outside of town. She’d been far from home with her pockets full of matches to sell at every door that would open for her, but everyone in the tiny distant farms had rejected her, and so had the factory workers from the city. The sun was setting, so she had no choice but to go back home, where her grandfather would surely punish her for coming back with not one penny.

The girl’s name was Anna. Her feet and hands were dead from the cold and wetness, growing from red to blue to black, and her whole body convulsed like that of the dead dove in her cat’s mouth last week. A weak tiny chest unprotected by the scarf heaved up and down out of control, with an even tinier and weaker heart inside. Her thin clothes had grown soaked from the carriage wheels and the splashing hooves of horses when they passed by, and the cold crept up from her socks to her neck, where snowflakes leaked inside the collar of her dress. The poor little thing could do nothing but shiver as her stiff muscles pushed her forward down the street towards her home, where her grandfather would surely give her an ugly beating and call her names and bad words she didn’t understand. 

Among the worse things he told her, were the tales of the wicked Snow Queen, who could never stay on the ground for long, but came down to earth in her reindeer-pulled sleigh when it snowed to snatch away children and young women, and as she’d heard, the Snow Queen had taken her mother and father away, and would surely take her too if she took too long to sell her matches. To Anna, that didn’t sound so terrible if it meant she’d see her parents again, because they must surely have been the only people to have ever loved her. Every winter, in the safety of her house, Anna liked to heat a copper penny by the stove and press it against the glass, so she could peep out the clear circle and see people going along with their lives, the birds and dogs fighting for food and the beautiful snow swirling outside with the wind. She particularly liked to spy for the Snow Queen, who must arrive at any moment.

As the wind picked up, she sighted a spot to take refuge: a narrow alleyway, between two tall brick houses. There she curled up with her little knees against her chest and hugged herself. The scarf was long gone as she’d lost it from sight miles back. She would never see it again, and then her grandfather would grow even angrier. She hadn’t even brought a single penny to make up for it. 

If only she could draw a match from her pocket and strike it against the wall! Then it would make a beautiful warm light, but she didn’t dare anger her grandfather any further, and she still needed to sell them the following day. So instead, she shivered and shivered as the snow fell faster and faster and the wind blew louder and louder. Her cold-dead fingers twitched with the impulse to strike a match, but she held back, because then her grandfather’s wrath would be unimaginable, and he would kick her out of the house to be captured by the Snow Queen. 

As the sun set and all light vanished, little Anna felt her head grow lighter and the cold on her limbs recede. Keeping her eyes open was harder, but she didn’t mind, because the brick wall behind her wasn’t as wet or cold as she’d initially thought, and she could lay against it and go to sleep.

When she thought she should see only darkness, a soft light glowed from among the snow, and a silhouette stood before it. It was that of a large sleigh, and a person climbing down from it. Anna’s little heart fluttered with joy. She was saved! She’d be brought back home safely! But then she noticed the person’s strange appearance: she looked like a young girl, barely a few years older than her, and everything from her hair to her skin to her bear-coat was as white as snow. She approached Anna and cried:

“Oh, my, what are you doing here alone? You must be freezing to death! Please, crawl into my coat so I can keep you warm.”

Anna hesitated, for she noticed the bear-coat was made of snow, as well as the young girl’s dress, but she could barely feel the cold anyway, and the girl had asked so nicely, so she did as asked and inched closer as the girl knelt before her, end even though Anna’s body thought it couldn’t take any more cold, being enveloped by the coat felt as if she were sinking in a snowdrift.

“C-c-cold, cold, cold…” She whimpered like a babe, and the girl tightened her coat’s grip around her.

“Don’t worry. Come here.” She kissed her hair, and Anna thought she may pass out from the sheer chill that iced her bones and her whole head, but only for a moment, and then it slowly vanished and left in its stead a soft, comfortably cool feeling, like dipping your bare feet in the creek during a sunny summer day. At the same time, a few hairs on her red head grew white. Her limbs quickly recovered their ability to feel, and her clothes were no longer soaked. “Did it work? Are you no longer cold?” Asked the young girl.

“No, why, thank you so much!” Anna cried. “I feel as though I just woke up from a warm bed.”

“You shall not get any more kisses, now, or else I shall kiss you to death,” said the girl. “Now, what is someone as small as you doing out in the snow on a night like this? I don’t want to imagine what may have happened if I hadn’t come across you.”

Anna didn’t want to imagine either. Oh, had she come so close to death? And she didn’t even notice!

“I’m a match girl, you see,” she explained, showing her a handful of matches from her pocket. “My grandfather has me sell matches every day, but if I’m to come home empty-handed by nightfall, he will beat me with a belt.”

“Your grandfather beats you and sends you out dressed so poorly?” Asked the girl with horror.

“He gave me my ma’s scarf, but I happened to lose it, which is why I was so scared to come home. I haven’t earned a single penny today, and if he knew I lost the only thing of my parents’ we had left, he’d be terribly angry.”

“Could it be this scarf? It blew in my direction by accident today,” the girl said, and she looked for something in her sleigh and made Anna gasp when she raised a beautifully clean and dry red scarf, embroidered with gorgeous foreign patterns. 

“It is! You’ve found it!” Anna rejoiced as she grasped the scarf and hugged it to her chest before wrapping it around her neck. “Are you my fairy godmother? You’re so nice and good with me!”

The girl smiled shily.

“You must have heard of me before. They know me as the Snow Queen.”

Anna’s heart chilled with fear, but then she realized how warm she felt, and how nice the Snow Queen was to her, and thought she must have been wrong about her before, and no longer felt afraid.

“Oh! I know you!” She exclaimed. “You look so much younger than I thought. My grandfather said you’d be an old hag, and he also said you took my parents away. Is that true? Can you take me to them? My name is Anna, by the way.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Anna, but I’m afraid I don’t know your mother,” said the Snow Queen. “I have never taken anyone away, but maybe my mother, who was Snow Queen before me, has.”

It had never occurred to her that the Snow Queen may have a child or a mother. It had never occurred to her that she may be good, either, but in these few minutes, she’d been nicer to her than her grandfather had ever been. 

“I’m sorry about your mother,�� said Anna.

“And I’m sorry about yours as well,” she replied. In that moment, a strong harsh wind howled and made Anna fasten her scarf around her neck out of habit, but she didn’t shiver at all. 

“It’s getting colder,” said the Snow Queen. “But I’m afraid to let you go if your grandfather is as you say.”

Sharp terror seized Anna’s little heart.

“Please, don’t bring me to him!” She implored. “I’ve not sold but one little match.”

the Snow Queen looked at her with pity.

“Do you suggest I bring you along with me?”

“Yes!” Cried Anna. “Oh, take me with you! You’ve been so kind and you’ve kept me so warm! Surely I will never feel cold again with you.” 

The Snow Queen was told to be a cold, aloof villain with a frozen heart, but there were unbelievable pain and despair behind her eyes, as she laid them upon Anna. 

“I cannot bring you with me, for I’m afraid you shall freeze to death in my palace, which is in the snow,” she told her. “But if you allow me to take you home, I promise I will visit every day of winter. Whenever you need me, just call for me and I will look after you and keep you warm.”

Anna’s little heart lurched when she thought about coming back home empty-handed, but she was still beyond happy to have a new friend. She climbed onto the Snow Queen’s sled, which was made of ice, but that didn’t bother Anna in the slightest, less even when nestled securely in the heavy bear-coat. All of the reindeer looked at her curiously, and Anna waved at them before the Snow Queen whipped the reins and had the sleigh take off. The wind soon whistled past them as the reindeer galloped faster and faster, but not a single snowflake scratched Anna’s red numb cheeks, and not for a moment did her throat grow sore and cold. The Snow Queen, whom she would now see as her dearest friend for the few years left of her life, kept her close to her during the whole ride, as the houses and farms and fences blurred by and then slowed down again, until Anna’s familiar neighborhood came into view. She hugged her new friend goodbye and clung to her for dear life until it was time to part. 

“It is winter, so I’ll be here for you to call me,” said the Snow Queen. “I won’t leave you alone.”

Anna smiled warmly.

“Thank you.”

Then she rushed into her home, still empty-handed, and she was terrified to alert her grandfather of her presence, but suddenly, the pipes burst, swollen with ice, and he stomped past her with only a quick “Not now” as an acknowledgment when he marched into the kitchen to see what was wrong and fix it. Anna held her breath the whole night, but her grandfather seemed too preoccupied with the state of the house and the price of repairment to remember her discipline.

That very night, Anna used one of her matches to light the stove and no ten minutes later, her little eye appeared on the window, and she could see the raging storm and the sleigh with reindeer and her new friend sitting on it only twenty meters away. She waved at Anna with a hand, and though the Snow Queen couldn’t see her, Anna waved back, too. 

“Thank you,” she mouthed.

Ever since that way, Anna’s life turned upside-down completely. Every day she would happily stroll out into the streets and stay outside late selling matches to every neighbor that would buy, which sometimes were many, as the days were growing colder and windows often cracked under the punishment of ice and frost, or stoves broke down, or pipes froze completely. Some days were less lucky, for people would sneer at her increasingly white hair and chase her away with a broom as if she were a witch’s cat-familiar, but that roughly bothered her, because her grandfather was always too busy shoveling snow or chopping off the stalactites that grew under the roof to care. 

Where adults were mean, kids were meaner. The edge of the forest was their place of leisure, a place parents often avoided out of fear, so that’s where they all went to play. Anna didn’t usually play with the boys and girls of her town, because they didn’t like her, but where before they’d simply ignored her, they would now go after her. protesting that it was unfair she sold so many matches, or that she so rarely felt cold. They pointed at her white hairs, which Anna loved with all of her heart, and laughed bitterly before chasing her around with hard, rough snowballs. But Anna wasn’t scared anymore, and she hadn’t been in quite some time, because when she raced across the woods and cried “My best friend is the Snow Queen! Be afraid!” and the Snow Queen puffed out her cheeks and blew a strong glacial wind from behind Anna and over the mean kids, they all screamed in horror and scrambled away crying like babies. Anna laughed, and because of this, the Snow Queen laughed too, albeit nervously, because she didn’t like frightening people, but once everyone was gone, the forest belonged to them.

And in the forest was where Anna and the Snow Queen spent the most time together. They liked to play in the snow and climb trees and ride the reindeer around, galloping through the woods faster and faster until the Snow Queen let Anna win, as she always did. Winters with the Snow Queen were the most beautiful moments of freedom in Anna’s short little life, where her grandfather couldn’t catch her and the people weren’t mean to her and she didn’t feel cold nor alone, not when the Snow Queen kissed her forehead to keep her warm and made more beautiful white hairs grow. 

But winter always came to an end, always a little bit too soon, or that’s how it felt like, at least, because the Snow Queen would visit less and less, and with her, the pristine snow melted into mud, insects crawled out from every crack between two bricks, and grandfather had fewer problems with their house. And people were buying fewer matches.

“I’m sorry, but I must leave,” told her the Snow Queen the first time. “It is springtime already, and I must return to my palace.”

“Oh, can you bring me with you?” Anna begged more than once.

“I wish I could more than anything in my life,” said the Queen back. “But I’m afraid you shall freeze to death.”

Every spring came a time in which Anna watched the Snow Queen climb onto her sleigh and ride away one last time.

These were hard times, without her dear friend. Grandfather could always find her some other work to do, and the weather was kinder, but she felt alone and unprotected without her company, and whenever she mentioned how much she missed her, her grandfather would scoff at her and say:

“Quit it with the fairy tales. You have a delivery to make.”

And he’d slam a heavy box down on Anna’s waiting arms and send her off.

The first summer wasn’t as hard. The second one was a little bit harder. Each year the Snow Queen came back and brought so much love and happiness with her, only to tear it away once more, and Anna’s little heart could barely take the punishment. Kids and adults alike at church didn’t want to sit near her, and people rarely bought her flowers, bread loaves or whatever she was selling that season. Grandfather was growing more and more irritable each year, so Anna avoided him. She also avoided the kids in town, and the adults, and even the dogs and birds fighting over food, for they had grown to fear her. She could see them pointing fingers and whispering and talking about the Devil and wicked spirits in the mountains. “What awaits out there in the snow?” They asked out loud. “Surely it is death. You’re going to catch your death, child.”

But then the forest turned red, and then black, and then white when the frost came. Anna could feel herself growing colder and colder each day as anticipation built in, and when the first snow fell, she rushed out of home and into the forest to greet her friend. 

Whenever grandfather was out of the house for the night and left Anna alone, she sneaked into the woods and towards the little refuge she’d built with the Snow Queen, a half-fallen oak tree, with an icy curtain she could gently move aside to enter, where she kept an old wooden sled, a matchbox and a few toys. Luckily, this had been the case last time the Snow Queen came down to visit. Anna raised her hands to her mouth, looked at the sky, and sang. It was a special call the Queen had taught her, which in its turn had been taught to her by her mother. Only four clear, loud notes which echoed through the mountains and the town and reached the ears of every frightened child and adult, regardless of whether they believed in the Snow Queen or not, and told them there was something deeply wrong and wicked with their little match girl. But Anna had no reason to care for what they may think, because soon she’d hear the sound of hooves and turn around to find her dear friend standing there, who grew more beautiful with every year, and Anna would give a little jump and race to her arms and laugh as the Queen circled her waist and pulled her close, nuzzling her hair and covering her body with her coat.

“I missed you,” she said, as she did each time, and she heard the Snow Queen sigh in bliss.

“I missed you, too.”

Anna lit up one of her matches to make a fire so that she could cook the little meat she’d brought along, and just like every time, she thought she saw the light parting like a curtain to reveal a vision of a beautiful crystalline palace on the top of the mountains.

“How is life in your palace?” She asked.

“It is peaceful, but it’s lonely. Still, I feel as free as a bird when I’m up there,” she told her. “But not nearly as happy as when I am down here.” She happily pinched Anna’s cheek and they both laughed. Anna felt a strange and warm feeling inside of her, something that compelled her to snuggle close to her friend, rest her head upon her shoulder, and close her eyes. The lack of cold was distinctly different from warmth, and she greatly enjoyed it when sitting before a fire in the Queen’s arms. Oh! She was certain the Queen must share this beautiful feeling, because she saw her face redden and her hands fidget when Anna kissed her cheek, once again reminding her of her humanity. She’d heard of women like these. People made them sound so horrible, but Anna knew her Queen and she knew herself, and she didn’t truly believe the things the townspeople preached anymore. They had been so wrong about the Snow Queen! She wasn’t the evil spirit they mistook her for, not at all. She was Anna’s dear friend, and a beautiful young woman as well. Oh, how happy did these moments make her!

“Would you tell me about your summer?” the Snow Queen requested, and Anna snuggled closer and happily told her about the ducklings in the pond, the flowers in her garden, and the beautiful lush green forest she tended to when it wasn’t covered in snow.

Life was difficult, but it had moments of true beauty, and Anna would treasure them with her whole heart. 

Winter, although safe and beautiful, was not always perfect. It was during her last winter that Anna wandered into an inn with pockets full of matches to sell that she saw none other than her Grandfather standing there, giving a loud, staggering speech to every man gathered around him. They had pitchforks and unlit torches in their hands.

“There is an evil creature haunting this town and we all know it!” He cried. “We’re too afraid to even name it! But I refuse to submit to the creature that took my family from me!”

The men cheered in fervor and support. 

Her grandfather hadn’t seen her. His eyes must have glossed over her, and Anna took the chance to bolt.

With her heart in her throat and her pockets full of matches, she trudged through the heavy snow into the forest. She needed to tell the Snow Queen, and to do so she needed to safely call her. She didn’t suffer the cold nearly as much but she felt her hands begin to grow numb just when anyone else’s would grow lifeless and dark. 

The wind picked up as she heard voices near, of men following deep into the woods with their hot red torches in one hand and their pitchforks in the other. Whenever she thought she’d come far enough, she’d hear them again, and at one point she made the mistake to think she was safe, raised her hands to her mouth, and called for the Queen. Her voice echoed in the walls of the mountains.

“I hear her!” Somebody cried. “This way!”

Anna’s little body jumped in terror, and she scurried away as quickly as possible, praying that the Queen did hear her and would get to her in time. The snow swirled cruelly around her and between each tree, muffling the red light from deep into the forest, and the soft white glow of the moon. She had to stumble in darkness, and she couldn’t see where there may be a tree, a rock, or a slippery sheet of ice.

She shivered thinking about the beating she’d receive if she didn’t sell her matches, but she was so scared, she still struck one against the bark of a tree, and a weak flame spluttered to life. She saw the thick snow, looking golden in the firelight, and the trees before her. They were growing sparse as the forest gave way into the vast expanse of whiteness that was the frozen prairie. She felt her numb hands grow warm.

The fire fluttered and died in the wind, and the shouting of men from behind resumed. Without thinking, Anna ran into the prairie. 

The wind blew hard frost against her, which cut the skin of her hands and cheeks, and Anna shivered in the impossible cold. Oh, where was the Snow Queen? Why was she taking so long?

She slipped on ice and hit her head against a tree, and as her confused brain processed the red light coming closer, she dragged herself behind the offending plant to hide, but setting her bum and back against the cold surface shook her to the bone. Against her best judgment, she lit another match, and pffffrtz! It came to light beautifully. Anna’s trembling lungs took all the air they could as she watched the soft light, and she thought she saw something in it, a crystalline structure, with delicate towers and a beautiful glass bridge. She smiled to herself, for a moment feeling less afraid. Oh! She could see that strong, secluded castle so clearly! But quickly the light went out, and she was once again shivering and scared.

Then, a heavy paw squeezed her arm, and she screamed.

“Quiet!” Her grandfather grunted. “You’ve called her yourself, and now you’ll have to deal with the consequences.”

“Please, grandfather, don’t hurt her!” Cried Anna, jerking her arm. “She meant you no harm!”

“You are losing your mind,” he said “The Queen was the reason why your parents and sister were lost to the snow. She took them away, and left you behind to depend on me.”

Anna stopped struggling. She had never heard of any sister.

“I had a sister?” She asked.

“Yes, and she disappeared the same night your mother did,” he told her. “I planned on telling you when you were old enough, because he was only a child and you didn’t need one more unknown loved one to cry over, but I later realized you were just foolish enough to talk to the Snow Queen yourself!”

“You don’t know her! She is the most, loving, gentle and warmest person there is, and not the monster you think her!” Anna finally released her arm from her grandfather’s clutches. She ran as he cried after her before his old legs could follow.

The freezing air filled Anna’s lungs and burned her lungs from the inside, so she fastened her scarf around her nose and trod forward. Her only goal was to get as far from the red light as possible, but without lighting a match, she couldn’t see where she stepped and her boot landed on a smooth, cracking surface that soon gave way into glacial water that dragged her away. The creek was shallow and she kept her head above the surface, but her whole body convulsed as the cold clawed into her, and the water dragged her down the river. She only pulled herself out when her dead-numb hand managed to hold onto a tree’s root. Even when she was fully out of the water, her little heart still struggled to carry warm blood to all of her limbs.

She tried to open her mouth and call for the Queen again, but she only coughed. She’d lost her scarf and one of her shoes on the way, and in her pocket, lied only one miserable wet match.

She desperately tried to scrub it dry and, with her shivering blue fingers, she struck it to life. She let herself sigh at the beautiful view. The warmth quickly spread over her fingers, along her arms and across her whole body. She didn’t even feel cold anymore. She didn’t shiver. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the light, and slowly, she began to see figures dancing. They looked like a couple with two small children, and a large roaring fireplace, with a table full of bread, cheese, milk and a roasted lamb to devour on Christmas Eve. Anna could reach her hand and take a piece of bread into her mouth. She could even taste it, and she smiled. The family’s house was big and spacious, with long corridors and stairways and a ballroom, and crystalline towers and a beautiful bridge between the mountains that led up to the palace in the sky. It was a beautiful home.

Across the fire, she saw a pair of concerned eyes. The fire went out. The Snow Queen fell to her knees, hugged Anna to her chest, and rocked her slowly.

“My love, you’re freezing!” she cried, and stroked Anna’s nearly-white hair. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I got scared and started this storm! I should have been here much sooner!”

Anna cupped her cheek.

“It’s alright. I still love you,” she told her, and then the Queen pulled away and looked at her with so much love, pain, and despair. She held Anna’s hand on her cheek. The Snow Queen must be freezing her but Anna didn’t feel it at all.

Then, the Queen brushed her hair away, leaned in, and planted a soft kiss on Anna’s lips. For a moment, a sharp cold stung her heart, and then it was gone, and she no longer felt the heavy drag of her wet dress as the Queen wrapped her up in her beloved scarf, which was dry and clean. Anna didn’t feel cold, nor afraid, nor in pain. She felt only warm and content. Oh! Anna had never been this happy or loved in her life!

The Snow Queen broke the kiss, picked up her soul into her arms, and safely carried her towards the sleigh, where the reindeer greeted them. She placed Anna on the seat and wrapped her into her bear coat. Then, she said:

“Are you feeling alright?”

Anna grinned at her love.

“Yes, I am. Thank you. I’m so happy you found me.”

She held the Queen’s hand tightly. She was kind, safe and familiar, and Anna felt so happy to be wrapped in her coat and sitting on her sleigh again. 

“Let’s go home,” said the Queen as she squeezed Anna’s hand and then stroked her auburn hair. Anna recalled the palace, and the happy family and the two children, and her grandfather’s words. Every memory made her smile. Home sounded like a nice plan. 

The Snow Queen whipped her reins, making her reindeer cry and break into a gallop. The snow swirled past them, faster and faster, and soon they left the red light far behind them, and the clouds parted and they raced high into the sky and towards some distant mountain with a beautiful palace on it, and Anna’s soul soared, watching the world below disappear, still holding the Snow Queen’s hand. 

The men below would eventually decide to keep quiet about that odd young girl who sang alone in the forest and talked to evil spirits. Anna’s grandfather, especially, was silent about it, and didn’t tell anyone about what happened to his son or daughter-in-law in the snow, much less to his granddaughters, both of which he failed to save. They never found the bodies at all, and he never knew what had taken the eldest away, only to come back for the youngest years later. The only certain thing was that, whenever someone dug their hands into their pockets during a snowy day, they’d find an old match lost somewhere in there, and they’d look at it with a strange combination of shame, terror, and gratitude. They were very quiet, yes, they never shared a word, but when they were alone, they did wonder, who was out there? What awaited out there in the snow?