#reupload because i noticed a mistake in the last one

[skulldetergent]

ghost scar headcanons (CW for his backstory)

no tattoo/no text version & explanation under the cut

CW⚠️ discussion of child abuse, torture, self harm & sa

since i headcanon ghost to have quite a few scars, i decided to make a "character sheet" or "scar map" to keep my art more consistent.

in the drawing, the scars are already labeled and i think pretty self-explanatory, but i will go into some more detail and elaborate on my headcanons. again, please read the content warning. i did my best at trying to discuss the following in a sensitive way, but it may be upsetting to read nonetheless.

let's begin with the ones that say "mission". i imagined they are just random scars he sustained during his service over the years, like gunshot scars or knife slashes from close combat.

but others like "roba's hook", the autopsy scar, tally marks, the whip scars and his glasgow smile are from during the time where he was captured and tortured. i headcanon reboot ghost to have pretty much the same backstory as OG ghost, with some slight differences and additions of my own.

things like the glasgow smile or tally marks are made up by me, and others like the being hanged from his ribs actually happened (comics). ghost was also canonically sexually assaulted multiple times, which gave me the idea of said tally marks to emphasise how cruel his captors were.

correct me if i'm wrong, but in the comics ghost doesn't have any scars after being tortured, any cuts shown on his body just cease to exist a few panels later. but considering what he was put through, i do think that there would be permanent scarring.

now, it's also canon that ghost was abused by his father in ways like him bringing large animals such as snakes in his room to scare him, or having him watch a woman die from OD, which made me consider what the full extent of his terrible father's "parenting" must've looked like.

ghost has a small, almost faded scar under his eye, he was too young to remember how he got it, only finding out when his mother told him. his father was being neglectful when he was supposed to watch him, and simon injured himself while wandering around.

now, it is unclear in the comics if mr. riley's abuse was purely psychological, or if it extended to physical as well (again, correct me if i'm wrong). but i didn't find it unrealistic to have the latter be the case, which is why simon has cigarette burn scars on his neck and legs. his father found it amusing under the guise of "making him a man" and seeing how long little simon could take it before he would start crying. nowadays the burns are barely visible.

and lastly, the self harm scars covered up by the tattoo sleeve on his left arm. considering what simon had to go through at an early age, it is not unlikely that he might have resorted to SH as a teenager. and later, he got the tattoo as a reminder to himself that those days are his past and not his present.

i really read the comics and said:

[wlwprker]

my heart is yours-tom!peter parker x reader

a/n: i wrote this on my old tumblr for someone else but i’m making it Peter Parker and reuploading it !

warnings: minimal proofreading, use of bold and italics, sorry for grammar and/or spelling mistakes!

wc: 787

You were a pretty calm person, but there were those rare moments that crept into your life where you found it extremely difficult to stay relaxed and it bothered you that you couldn't just stay...calm. You always felt like such a burden to others when those overwhelming moments ruined your days, nights, and weeks, but your boyfriend didn't care if you were sad or angry, he will always love you and you are so thankful to have been blessed with the gift that is Peter Parker (AKA the one and only Spiderman), who you get to call yours. He patrols the city at night and is sometimes taken away on missions, but that doesn't make you upset or too lonely because you know that he always has a home with you.

Today was one of those days where you couldn't stay chilled out and you tried everything to stop your overwhelming thoughts from crashing into you like a freight train and all you kept trying to do was to keep your emotions at bay because the last thing you wanted to do was disrupt Peter on one of his rare off days from his patrolling duties but he notices every little thing you do. Peter sat down next to you on the couch in your shared apartment and he motioned for you to lie down in his lap because he adored looking down at you and basking in the warmth of you.

When you look at him with those eyes that hold so much affection behind them, he feels as if he's falling all over again, and he doesn't want to stop falling.

"Baby, what's running through that pretty little mind of yours?" Peter rubbed his hands soothingly up and down your shoulders as you looked up at him in adoration and he smiled as he placed a loving kiss to your forehead and you swore that you felt like a teenager in love, you were never the type of person to believe in clichés but when he looks at you like there's nothing more important in the world, you felt as if you were floating and you had no intention of wanting to come back down to Earth. You smiled to yourself at the fact he was always so loving and caring and if he ever sensed that there was something wrong, he would drop everything for you. You always have to convince him when he's away on missions that his Spiderman duties are important but if you didn't keep reminding him of that, he would move mountains just to see you smile.

"I'm just having one of those days, Peter", you say as you sit up from his lap and Peter whines at the loss of contact, but you scoot closer to him on the couch, and he wraps an arm protectively around you. He hums in content, and you lean your head on his shoulder, and you can feel his heart beating, only for you.

"I love you so much, my love", Peter says in such a sweet tone that you swore you physically felt your heart beat faster for him, if that was even possible. You place a sweet kiss on his lips and he smiles into the kiss and you pull away slowly and this boy can't stop staring at you because he is so lucky that you love him this much. You have kissed Peter so many times but every single kiss that you share feels like you're sharing a kiss with the prince in those fairytales you grew up reading, he is your happy ending. You find one of his hands and bring it close to you and you start to trace the lines on his palm as you feel him rub his hands down your arms.

"I like tracing the lines in your palm, it's...distracting", you say as you plant gentle kisses on the lines in Peter's palm and you can feel him staring at you as you continue to trace the lines in his palm that fits into your hands like a glove and you stare up at him and he is looking at you with the most loving stare in the entire world.

"You are a dream come true. I'm going to ask for your hand in marriage, what do you think about that?" Peter kissed your nose and you sighed happily. You are so in love with this brown eyed beauty and you never want it to stop.

"That sounds perfect, Pete" you felt yourself start to drift off into the world of dreams, but your dreams were insignificant because all you ever dreamed about was holding you close on the couch, and everything felt okay again.

[nono-uwu]

(Reupload bc a whole 20 hours later and no notes?? Is it that bad)

Anyways, 2nd ons oc yippeee

Lore utc yea

So this time our story starts in 80s japan! Where, for lack of a better word, a very average girl was born. Or is she average? Well,,,,,

Anyways, Yua had a normal upbringing. Two loving parents with stable jobs, rich overseas relatives that spoiled her rotten whenever possible (ok that's not that normal but whatevs) and a few friends in school.

Things changed when in her last year of middle school her parents announced that they were moving to their relatives overseas. Yua did not want that. At all. While she tried to convince them, the move has already been planned and plane tickets were about to be purchased.

Two days later, in a moment of intrusive compulsion, Yua pushed her father down the stairs. It was supposed to be just a little push, maybe to sprain his ankle and to delay the move but as fate would have it, her father almost died in that fall. Her mother, obviously horrified, declared then and there that Yua wasn't her daughter anymore. Her father ended up in a nursing home due to lasting damages after the fall and her mother moved and left Yua alone.

Yua's living expenses were afterwards payed for by her overseas family and she could stay in Japan.

Come high school, Yua was once again a normal student who happened to live alone, the accident having been buried and chalked up to an unlucky slip. She was decently popular thanks to her good grades and outgoing attitude but somehow never made any lasting friendships. Except that one time...

Yua noticed a rather peculiar classmate of hers. He had ginger hair, always wore a hood and barley ever spoke to anyone. If he spoke he was generally rude, wasn't in any club, every break he'd disappear onto the rooftop and bolted straight home at the end of each day. He never did any homework or participated in projects but still passed each class. She was intruiged. How could such an asshole exist?

To investigate, she examined every nook and cranny of the rooftop and stumbled upon the tight space between the back of the little building door thing that leads up to the rooftop and the fence which was the ginger's hiding spot. She tried to strike up conversation until the guy had enough and rudely told her off. "You're better off not talking to me. I'm always alone for a reason." Oh great, he's fucking emo. Though this didn't dissuade Yua, if anything she was determined to get this guy to talk to her. As a fun experiment.

A few months of constant perstering later, she finally got his first name (because just looking at the class list would have been too easy). Literally Mistake. No wonder he's like that.

Almost half a year later, Yua got Machigai to open up a little and the two hit it off. They ended up very close friends, some even assumed they were dating (they're both gay so they just found it funny).

At the end of high school, Yua was terrified. Terrified of losing the one friend she had, terrified of all the change that was inevitablely going to occur. Her fear got even worse when Machigai straight up disappeared after graduation. She didn't know what to do. She hasn't applied to any colleges, she hasn't thought about her future at all.

In a slight crisis, she visited her relatives overseas, maybe make amends with her mother. Unfortunately, her mother was unwilling to see her, believing her to be a ruthless monster. Yua continued to travel around for a bit, in a desperate attempt to figure out her future. When she returned to japan, she was just as lost as when she left.

A few years and multiple jobs later, she accidentally stumbled upon Japan's undergroung magic government (or something like that, I only skimmed cat16 lol) and it suddenly hit her. She doesn't have to accept change or make rash decisions about her future if she's immortal, right? Plus this way she might be able to seek out her old friend again (because there is no way that guy is just a normal human).

Some convoluted shenanigans later she struck a deal with the Hiiragi family. She would offer herself up to be experimented on for the development of cursed gear (they were working on that right) for a chance at immortality (except she just gave some vague reasoning on what she wants lol). And once again, as fate would have it, she would get her wish fulfilled in probably the worst way possible.

One of the demons up for grabs (lol) was one nobody was really sure of how it got there or how it precisely worked. It was a set of 6 rings and it was supposed to be a very furios demon, as it possessed and killed anyone who tried beforehand.

Yua took the gamble and she was greated by a... kid? The demon had the form of a human, probably around 11 years old. "Hello, human. Lemme just...", before Yua could react, the demon had already pierced her heart and looked inside.

"So you want immortality? Wow, super original. Scared of change? Boring! Oh well, you do have some amazing greed so I'll consider it. Tell me, what will you give me in return?"

"Huh?"

"hUh? I was crystal clear. But since you're stupid, I guess I'll give you a hint: Your desires and greed alone aren't enough to satiate me if you want to be immortal. You have to give me another thing for that to happen"

"...like what?"

"Ugh, isn't it obvious?! Your sanity, your emotions, your eyesight! Anything goes!"

"Then... what about my tears?"

"Tears? Oh like your abilty to cry... that should work. So deal?"

"What would happen to me if I accept?"

"How should I know?! You'll just have to wait and see! So are you up to it? If you say no you're dead anyways."

"Fine. I accept."

And thus, Yua's new life began. The demons powers granted her some sort of razor sharp physics-defying, almost spider web like, string that would become uneffective against anyone wearing one of the rings allowing for a more supportive use. She spent god knows how long training with and without the rings (that's how she got those scars) and any time not spent training was spent studying magic n shit. She became highly proficient in spells and yeah. (Muh brains dead rn i'm sorry)

As for the no tears thing... it's not great. Her eyes still self-lubricate to get debris and whatnot out of there if needed, but no tears for anything else. But to still process intense emotions, Yua has different reactions. If she's sad/angry/[other negative emotion] she feels physically ill. Sometimes to the point of having to throw up. If she's very very happy/relieved, it makes her unable to stand still. So in order to avoid the more negative effects, she learnt to surpress most if not all negative emotions, at least to the point where she doesn't feel ill anymore. Unfortunately, this led to all her emotions getting dampened which leads to her coming off a insensitive sometimes. She also often forces a more positive emotion out of negative ones or straight up ignores them to avoid feeling ill.

Fast forward to the apocalypse and Yua was promptly put into the JIDA. During the first-ish years she was often sent out to rescue people and to help train up soldiers. During this time she rescued and pseudo adopted a boy who miraculously survived the initial catastrophe (he is the 3rd major oc. I lied her and his demons are also more fleshed out but ahem anyways more on the lil guy later).

During all this she was still determined to meet Machigai again, if possible. She went digging in the army's archives and lo and behold, she found the ginger. In the documents he was classified as M.I.A., namley kidnapped and held captive by vampires. Yua brought this up with the top brass and they allowed her to conduct a search and rescue mission for Machigai since the JIDA realized he'd be a useful asset. Except she had to do it alone.

So Yua yolo'd into vampire teritory up until Nagoya, making sure to draw enough attention to herself without getting caught.

The sudden disappearance of soldiers was obviously enough to draw the attention of the ruling vampires in Nagoya, namley Crowley Eusford. At the mention of "a woman with long dark hair" Machigai uncharacteristically volunteered to take care of the disturbance. While it was highly unlikley that it really was his friend from over ten years ago, he wanted to at least make sure it's not really her.

Aaaand they meet again. Dramatic reunion ensues. Machigai is so confused and shocked and Yua couldn't be more relieved at the sight of Machigai in that uniform. She gave a very simplified version of how tf she looks that young and is still alive while Machigai also fessed up about what is up with him.

Machigai broke down a little and pleaded with Yua to run away with him and to leave everything behind. Unfortunatley she couldn't agree but she promised to visit again, consequences be damned.

Yua stuck around the area for a little more to hopefully lure out the big fish himself. Crowley did show up (for reasons that I'll expand on later adnwgjnhr) and in Yua offered her deal (see doodle page): Crowley let's her, yk, live and in return she gives him some key information about the ginger enigma (Machigai). Crowley accepts (reason will be explained later. again. I'm sorry) and Yua gets to live. Hurray!

Once she gets back to the JIDA base, her 'treason' gets exposed and she is thrown into jail! Except she manipulates her way out of severe consequences and the lil guy she helped vouches for better treatment.

Yua keeps her promise to Machigai and a few weeks later she shows up in Nagoya again! Except this time in her fresh new outfit (it's literally the demon army uniform without the coat and like, 10% more sexy. slay.).

Some shenanigans later and she is now a frequent guest at Nagoya City Hall and everyone just kinda got used to her, especially since she often brings some juicy intel with her (and snacks for Machigai). Hell, even Ferid got aquianted with her and let her be because she's fun.

I honestly don't knew where to put this but anyways, Yua develops a massive crush on Horn. Yea

[thesoftestirises]

always, forever - one.

♡ pairing: steven x reader ♡ rating : 18+ (smut in part 2) ♡ word count : 6k ♡ warnings : age gap relationship (the characters are both well into adulthood, but it is a ten year difference). this shit rated t for THERAPY! steven’s gonna make you feel good about yourself whether or not you’re ready for it! ooc steven - rewritten to fit the au parameters. ♡ summary : Steven  is a veteran journalist with a thirst to do the right  thing. You’re his insecure cameraperson. The two of you fall in love  slowly, then all at once. ♡ an : reupload, last one kept crashing. this is a two part miniseries.

“Newbie!”

You sighed, setting your pen back in your cup and turning around in your swivel chair. You’d been at this job for at least seven months, but you were still getting called ‘newbie’ by the editor in chief. You briefly wondered if he even knew your name. It wouldn’t surprise you if he didn’t.

Gold Standard Reporting, the organization you worked for, was known to push their employees harder than any other news company. Which was really saying something, because most journalists worked crazy hours. But GSR, being a newer company with fewer employees, had more tasks to do spread out over fewer people. No one had time to really fraternize, especially not the editor in chief, Ken Damiani. But you loved it there anyways. You were constantly surrounded by the best and the brightest, rubbing elbows with people who were working on groundbreaking investigative journalism. You often felt unqualified to even be there. Every day you half expected them to realize their mistake and fire you.

Ken Damiani was hunched forward in his chair when you arrived at his door, playing with a stress ball while speaking to the person across from him. His expression was serious, but there was a spark of excitement in his eyes and a quirk of a smile on his lips. It was the first time you’d ever seen him look pleased.

He turned to you as you entered and gestured for you to sit down. You took a seat next to the stranger, who you quickly realized was Steven Grant of CNN. Your eyes widened in surprise, which he seemed to notice. He smiled politely and reached out for a handshake, which you responded to after an awkward beat. Steven’s cordial smile melted into one of genuine amusement, barely stifling a chuckle at the expression on your face.

“Steven, this is Y/N. She was the most recent addition to the GSR family,” Ken said, gesturing to you while not making eye contact. Steven nodded to you in acknowledgement, studying your face as if he was trying to commit you to his memory. “If it behooves you, she can act as your videographer. Her technical skill is very good.”

You looked between the two men in front of you in confusion. Steven’s videographer? Surely he had a team of those back at CNN. Ones who were way better than you, like ones who had actually graduated with a degree in journalism from a good college. Also, ‘behooves’? Who still talked like that?

“That would be great, if Y/N wouldn’t mind?” Steven asked, turning the question over to you. Had you not been focused on other things, you probably would have taken more time to appreciate how he gave you the space to say no.

“I’m sorry, I think I’m just missing some context. I thought he worked at CNN? Is he allowed to do this?” You asked.

“I’ve actually parted ways with CNN,” Steven said, clasping his hands together and bringing them over his knee. “Our goals were no longer in alignment.”

“Really? What was the final straw?” You asked.

Steven pursed his lips, as if he was contemplating whether or not he wanted to answer.

“None of that now, Steven doesn’t have time to be questioned,” Ken said, waving a hand dismissively. “Now, what are you doing next week? Do you have any assignments?”

“Uh, a piece on the new cat cafe craze in Newport-”

“Okay, so nothing important. Listen, all the other videographers are busy, and Steven was just talking to me about a potential debut piece by him for GSR.”

Steven’s idea was to create a series on the growing divide between Americans. He called it ‘Hate thy Neighbor’. He wanted to create a space for people to tell their own stories and hopefully, bridge the gap after understanding one another. You thought the idea was overly ambitious, but if Steven was the one at the helm, you could see it becoming something worthwhile.

He invited you to get tea with him to further discuss the plans, which was surprisingly friendly of a guy who was so much more important than you it was comical. Steven had a Peabody award, for fuck’s sake.

You looked over at him while he casually stirred sugar into his drink. Beyond just being an incredible journalist with integrity, Steven was the most beautiful man to ever be in the news circuit. He was not only a trusted face with the most mesmerizing accent, but one of America’s favorite sex symbols. You were realizing now that the cameras at CNN had never been able to fully capture how blindingly gorgeous he was. His dark curls, his warm brown eyes, the way his button down struggled to conceal the size of his biceps. He was godly.

He raised an eyebrow when he noticed you staring. You immediately felt your face heat up and looked down, suddenly taking an unnatural interest in your own cup of tea. You considered breaking the awkward silence, but you weren’t really sure what to say. He took pity on you, and spoke up instead.

He cleared his throat and took his spoon out of his tea, laying it onto a napkin he had neatly folded on the table. “So, Y/N. Where are you from?”

“Um, Wisconsin, actually,” you said, picking at a loose thread on your cardigan.

“Did you like it there?”

“Not at all,” you said without hesitation.

Steven gave you that patented single eyebrow lift, which you were quickly realizing could get anyone to keep talking. It was probably why he was such a good journalist.

“I just don’t have great memories associated with that place. I’m much happier here. Big city, lots of people.”

“Were you from a small town?”

“I’d say it was more of a suburb. It was called Ives, about thirty minutes north of Madison.”

“Interesting. Do you go back often?”

“Once a year for the holiday season,” you said, crossing your legs underneath the table. “I try to avoid it, with the cost of airfare and all.”

“Not because of the negative memories?”

You blinked at him. “That’s part of the reason why I stay away, but it really is an expensive endeavor to go back. I’m not making a ton of money as a journalist, believe it or not.”

Steven chuckled lightly at that, the laughter lines around his eyes beginning to make an appearance. “Fair enough.”

“What about you?” You asked. “How often do you go home?”

“Not as often as I’d like,” Steven said, sincerity coloring his tone. He rested his arms on the table and leaned in. “My family is always busy. But I do miss them and I enjoy my time at home.”

You thought it was fascinating how he side stepped his family history and made himself sound so normal. The Grant family name was well known, even in America. They were heirs to a massive fortune from early investments into oil and telecommunications. Practically royalty. Steven probably could have gone his whole life without ever working, and yet he went ahead and hid his identity to apply to work as a correspondent for CNN. It took a few months before the cat was let out of the bag, but he had already proven he was there for his skill, not his surname.

“You seem nervous,” he said.

“I am, you’re a big deal,” you mumbled, taking a sip of your still piping hot drink just to avoid staring into his intimidating gaze. You could feel your tastebuds burning and your brain screaming in protest at the pain. How could you, a journalist, be so poor at communicating?

“We’re coworkers now,” he said earnestly. “We’re on the same level. If this all goes well, I suspect we’ll be partners for a while.”

“You haven’t seen my work before,” you said, chuckling self deprecatingly as you moved your mug around in a circle mindlessly, watching the liquid inside swirl. “You might hate it.”

“I have seen your work, actually. When I was doing my original research into GSR, I saw some pieces you’d worked on. I understand videography wasn’t what you joined GSR to do, but you have remarkable style. The way you do cuts in interviews is almost more appropriate for movies. You make any story seem riveting. That’s why I immediately accepted,” Steven said, pausing to check if his tea was still too hot to drink. “I suppose you could call me a fan.”

“What?” You gasped, then winced at your own unexpected outburst. You were supposed to internalize that.

Steven smiled, and reached across the table to place his hand over yours. God, you sure hoped he couldn’t feel how sweaty your palm was from the top of your hand. “I hope that by the end of our trial run that I can teach you to be a little more confident. You’re very talented.”

You tried to search for something appropriate to say after a compliment as heavy as that, but you fell blank. Honestly, you’d never felt so validated in your life, and Steven had known you for a grand total of maybe two hours. “I’m sincerely, really thankful. I hope I’m worthy of the praise.”

“You already are, Y/N. No need to thank me for stating the obvious.”

He removed his hand from yours, but the warmth remained.

“So, as we discussed earlier regarding the project...”

Today was day one of being on the road. Well, it was a trial run close to home, so technically you weren’t going far at all. You even got to go back to your apartment and sleep in your own bed after the day’s work had been done and Steven dropped you off at home. He had suggested that you two carpool once he picked up on the fact that you had a clunker for a vehicle and you were a little terrified to drive it. He had insisted in spite of your protests and scheduled a pickup time. You were too shy to tell him how much you appreciated it.

“Are they really going to do it? Protest in the National Mall?” You asked, flipping through the pages of notes Steven had made on the group you were interviewing.

“You don’t think they’ll go through with it?”

“I don’t think the overwhelmingly liberal residents of D.C. will let them.”

You were still nervous around Steven, but he was shockingly nonjudgmental and you found yourself rapidly warming up to him. At least now you could talk to him without shaking like a leaf the way you did the first time.

“They’ll get yelled at the whole way through the streets. It doesn’t seem very safe,” you said, shrugging.

“Perhaps they believe in their message, however foolish it may seem to us, and they’re willing to risk their safety in order to speak out,” he said, briefly taking his eyes off the road to look at you.

“I can’t understand it,” you said, shaking your head. You turned to face Steven’s side profile, tracing your gaze down the curve of his nose. “You think they’ll take offense? To us?”

“Maybe, maybe not. They did grant us an interview, though, so they can’t be too hostile. I often find that people are much less combative when faced with a camera.”

“I did mean to ask, by the way. Why are you dressed so casually?”

You had dressed as you normally did for interviews, pressed slacks and a blouse. Steven, on the other hand, had opted to go in dark wash jeans and a maroon shirt. He looked devastatingly handsome, like boyfriend material. But he always looked like that to you.

“I wanted to try and level with them as much as possible. Make them feel less like a spectacle,” he explained. “GSR is also very lax with their dress code and I wanted to take advantage of that. I was thinking of dyeing my hair something fun too, what do you think?”

You giggled when he turned to look at you, a bright smile lighting up his face at his own joke. “I think you would look good in pastel pink.”

“Hm, maybe that would be a stretch. Brown?”

You paused and considered it, considered him. Steven was ridiculously handsome, as you often mused to yourself. He had a classically handsome face, like a golden age Hollywood star. He could probably do anything to his appearance and still look like a dream. A few rays of sunlight passed through the window and filtered through his curls as he glanced over to his right to check for cars. The light turned the hair at the top of his head a warm brown, colored with red and orange. He looked over at you as you stared at him, giving you a questioning expression.

“Your hair is perfect as it is.”

He blinked, but quickly recovered. “Thank you, Miss Y/N.”

You cleared your throat and looked out at the road as you thought of things to say to fill the silence.

“Do you have your questions prepared?” You asked.

“No, I never write questions out,” he said as he flipped on his turn signal and switched lanes.

“What?”

“I don’t believe it’s a good method of interviewing. If you prepare questions, you’ll feel obligated to get them all answered. So instead, I just do enough research to hold a conversation and let the person I’m interviewing talk. It’s their story, after all. That’s what this is about, you know? Informing and bringing people together.”

“But what if they lie to you? Or try to take you off from the story that was meant to be told?”

“That’s where my problem with CNN stemmed from. They let people lie and take us off track from the real issues all the time for the sake of ratings. Now? You and I can simply not air the interview at all,” he said simply, glancing quickly at you before focusing back on the road. “Don’t worry, though. These people aren’t politicians, they won’t pull those kinds of tricks on us. And if they do, I believe the two of us can handle it.”

You appreciated that he kept referring to the two of you as “we”, constantly reminding you that this was a partner project to him. It wasn’t just Steven, nor was it Steven and friends. It was Steven and Y/N. You also appreciated the amount of faith he was putting into you, allowing you to make a lot of calls on your own regarding b roll footage. He said he trusted you to convey the story visually, and he was personally more concerned with his own ability to perform to standard.

“We’re almost there. Are you ready?” He asked as the two of you were halted at a stop light.

Your lips curved up and you nodded. “Yes.”

The first story had gone viral.

Steven’s patience during the interviewing process had made one interviewee change their mind mid interview, and the entire thing had been caught on camera. That clip alone was shared over ten thousand times on Twitter and reached 2.6 million views on YouTube in the first two days. The full hour long special had 800,000 hits by the end of the first week. You refreshed it every few hours to see the numbers go up. It was wholly unexpected and even Steven seemed surprised by the success.

The story itself was one that had been well put together, focusing on the people and the build up to the protest, and had some pretty excellent visuals, if you do say so yourself. Steven said it was everything he’d dreamed the first episode would be and more, and he was really excited when GSR greenlit the two of you for a series.

He’d asked you to come get dinner with him as a celebration for, well, everything. You’d tried to decline, but Steven seemed to understand the line between you not wanting to do something and you fearing that you were a burden. He ignored you and made reservations for two at a nice restaurant close to your workplace so that you two could head over directly after work.

The sky was dark gray and rain had been coming down in slow, fat drops. Not quite enough to call for an umbrella, yet Steven was using one anyways. You had run off ahead of him to try and catch as many drops in the palm of your hand as possible, a game you’d picked up during childhood and hadn’t dropped since.

“What are you doing?” He laughed, beckoning you to come back under the safety of his bright red umbrella.

“Having a good time, spoilsport,” you said. “Put that thing down, this is hardly even a drizzle!”

Steven rolled his eyes, but closed the umbrella and stuffed it into his work tote. He quickened his pace and caught up to you. “You seem like you’re in a good mood.”

“I love this kind of weather,” you said, looking up to the sky and wrinkling your nose as you caught a droplet on the tip of it. Steven snorted at the expression on your face as you attempted to look at the raindrop before wiping it off.

“Why’s this your favorite kind of weather?”

“I think the gray highlights other colors. Makes stuff really pop out, like grass or your red umbrella. It’s not torrential enough to be dangerous, but it’s just enough to feed the planets and animals. Plus, it’s still warm out,” you told him. Upon his silence, you glanced over at him and moved a little slower when you noticed he was just watching you with an unreadable look in his eyes. “What?”

“Nothing. I’m just happy that you’re happy,” he said, smiling at you.

You felt your own lips tugging up at his honest admission, and turned your head away to look at the city view in front of you. The lights and the sounds were something that you’d grown used to over time, but sometimes it was nice to stop and stare at the architecture and the people. It was so easy to get caught up in all the negativity of the world, but just looking at the creations of mankind made you feel a little more hopeful. It reminded you that people were capable of amazing amounts of progress. That you, as a species, had made it this far, and there was still more to go.

A man with a guitar was sitting on the ledge of a fountain, doing an acoustic rendition of Fix You by Coldplay. You caught yourself humming along unconsciously, straying away from Steven to drop a five dollar bill in the hat placed by the man’s feet. He nodded at you as he continued singing, not minding the raindrops collecting on the surface of his guitar. Steven walked up behind you as you turned around to see if you’d lost him.

His eyes searched your face before he spoke, as if he was absorbing everything he was seeing. You noticed that he did that a lot. Pausing before he spoke and just observing. The rain was starting to come down a little more rapidly, though not enough to soak through your clothing. Little droplets started collecting on the crown of Steven’s head as he stood with you, the noise of the city fading into the background.

“Didn’t know you were a Coldplay fan.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you said, before you caught yourself and changed your tone. “I mean, we haven’t exactly had the opportunity to talk about stuff outside politics and our job.”

“In that case,” he said, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and leading you back in the direction you needed to be going in. “I swear not to bring up politics or our job during dinner. As long as you agree to the terms too.”

You felt your face heat up at his proximity, unwilling to look him the eye as you nodded. Steven didn’t seem to mind your sudden silence, content to walk in the rain with his arm around you.

“Are you going to move your arm?” You asked quietly.

“No, our reservation is in fifteen minutes and I can’t have you running off without me again,” he said, not leaving room for argument. He looked down at you and smiled. “Why? Are you uncomfortable?”

“No,” you blurted, a little too quickly and a little too loudly. “I was just surprised.”

“You walk on eggshells around me still, you know. I just want you to view me on the same level as you. We’re both just people.”

“Well, easy for you to say.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve had a remarkable, decade-long career as one of the most well known journalists of this century. My senile grandmother could probably pick you out in a crowd,” you said, forgoing mentioning the fact you also thought he was unfairly gorgeous and that made you extremely nervous.

“So?”

“So?! I don’t know, it’s intimidating!”

“Y/N, I really don’t want you to think that I’m better than you because of the opportunities I’ve had. I’m also much older than you, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Only by ten years.”

“Ten years is quite a bit of time. Anyways, it’s probably no secret to you what my family does. I was born into wealth, connections, et cetera. I knew journalists and got to learn directly with them. You, on the other hand, probably went through years of schooling and self research. For that, I think you’re just as remarkable,” he said.

“I haven’t done much,” you said, rubbing at your elbow and turning your gaze to the sidewalk.

“On the contrary, you’ve done a lot. Just this last week, for example. You were the one who knew to post that specific clip to twitter and you were the one who edited the story. You single handedly ensured our success, and I refuse to hear otherwise.”

“But-“

“Ah! I won’t have it,” he cut you off, looking at you with a faked sternness. “I’m sure you’ve done much more too. You’re obviously very clever.”

“I don’t know about all that-“

“One more self deprecating word out of you, and I’ll make you pay for dessert. Be warned, this place is very expensive.”

“If it’s so expensive why are we going?” You asked, stopping in your tracks.

“Because it's a celebration and I’m paying?” He said, tilting his head and looking at you like you’d asked the most ridiculous question he’d ever heard.

“You’re what!”

“Y/N, love. If someone asks you to go somewhere, they have to pay. Anything else is impolite. Come on, even if you make me cancel the reservation, they’ll have me pay them $100.”

“What kind of place is this?” You gaped, looking over at Steven as he pulled you forward.

“A place that makes great spaghetti.”

“Am I even dressed appropriately for this place?” You asked, more to yourself than to him. You looked down at the outfit you’d worn to work today: skinny jeans, a plain white blouse, and a saffron colored blazer. It would be a little fancy for most of your regular haunts (IHOP, McDonalds, or Shake Shack), but you wouldn’t stand out too much. At Steven’s expensive restaurant, though? You would probably stick out like a sore thumb.

“You look beautiful as always, don’t worry about it,” Steven said, gently rubbing your shoulder. “Oh, look. This is the restaurant.”

You tried hard not to react to what he said, but your heart rate definitely sped up and you felt a lot warmer. Steven, thankfully, was too busy getting the two of you checked in and seated at the restaurant to notice how you’d malfunctioned at his casual compliment. It was stupid, a throwaway line to make you shut up. But it filled you up with metaphorical butterflies anyways.

When the waiter handed you your menus, Steven finally looked at you and asked if you were okay. You quickly nodded and lied about needing to go wash your hands, hoping he didn’t see right through your ruse. You took a few minutes to calm yourself down in the bathroom before you went back out.

“Welcome back,” Steven said as you slid into the booth. “I ordered you some water. I didn’t know what kind of wine you’d want.”

“I don’t really have a taste for wine. Had a few bad experiences getting wine drunk,” you said, opening up your menu to scan through the options.

“Oh? You’re going to have to tell me that story. Also, I already know what the cheapest thing on this menu is, and if you order it, I’m going to ignore you and order something twice as expensive. So choose wisely.”

“Can you read minds?” You asked, dropping the menu in surprise.

“Your concern about burdening others is a part of you that I have come to understand, yes,” he said, not lifting his gaze from his own menu. “Do you like seafood? I think you’d like their shrimp and lobster spaghetti.”

“You know this place better than I do, so I’ll let you order.”

“Great,” Steven said with a beaming smile, waving down a waiter and ordering two plates of the house special spaghetti. When the waiter disappeared into the back, Steven turned his attention to you. “So, Coldplay?”

“Please, everyone likes Coldplay.”

“You struck me as more of a millennial hipster type. Like, you listen to bands no one’s heard of and you take pride in that. The lower their listener count on Spotify is, the better.”

“What! That’s such a specific assumption!”

“Tell me it’s not true then. Tell me you don’t do that,” he said, pressing his lips together to hold back a smirk.

“Well, I guess,” you said begrudgingly, unable to keep yourself from smiling at his amusement. “But I listen to lots of stuff! You strike me as an oldies lover. Like a ‘I was born in the wrong decade’ type of guy.”

“Harsh, but accurate,” he chuckled.

“What can I say, I’m observant,” you said, purposely flipping your hair and patting yourself on the back to make Steven laugh even harder.

When the waiter returned with your orders, a comfortable silence fell between the two of you as you focused on the food. You’d mentioned briefly to him that what he ordered you was amazing before continuing to shovel the spaghetti down (in a sort of ladylike fashion, this was still a nice place). The rest of the evening was the two of you exchanging surface level facts about each other. Your favorite movies, musicians, places to go, museums in D.C.. It was all stuff you’d probably find if you scoured the internet and read every interview he ever gave, but it was nice to just treat him like a regular coworker, and he clearly preferred that you thought of him that way.

“Who’s your inspiration? Like for work?”

“I thought we agreed we weren’t going to talk about work,” he said, a teasing smile on the corners of his lips. “But Walter Cronkite.”

“Typical.”

“What? He was the most trustworthy man in America. I’d like to be on that level, you know? To be someone that people would look at and say ‘that person is telling the truth’. It’s a big honor.”

“That’s fair. You’re right. It’s a popular response, but it’s a good one.”

“Who’s yours, then?” He asked.

“There was a woman who did our local news, Tiffany Day. She was amazing. I wanted to be like her so bad when I was growing up. She seemed so confident and powerful on television, like she couldn’t be lied to.”

“I think you’ll get there. You’re already amazing and a great journalist. Biggest pet peeve?”

“Hopefully. And liars. I hate being lied to more than anything else.”

“You seem to have a preoccupation with that. Lies.”

“It’s part of my tragic backstory, you’ll have to reach level fifteen friendship to unlock that,” you said, deflecting the unspoken question. That story was not one you were interested in rehashing with Steven.

“What level am I at now?” He asked, amused with your challenge.

“Two. Three, because you bought me food.”

“How do I level up?”

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out, isn’t it?”

“I suppose,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “Well, I’ll add that to my personal goals for this year. Unlock Y/N’s tragic backstory. Just a warning, though, Miss Y/N. I usually achieve all my goals.”

You blinked at him, but he had already moved on to getting the waiter to bring him the check. You didn’t really know how to react to Steven’s promise to you, but you were a little worried. Would he really express all this interest in you after he did unlock your “tragic backstory”? You’d only had his attention for a short amount of time, but you found yourself blooming under it. You liked the way he made you feel important and the way he spoke to you.

You liked him, period.

You could only hope he’d still like you after uncovering just how much of a pathetic wreck you were on the inside. Once he’d found the irreparable neuroticism and negative energy that you tried to keep bottled up. You couldn’t say for certain, but you really hoped he’d stay.

You and Steven had been working together for a few months, and this had never happened before.

You should have expected that a mix up was bound to occur, or that your cheapskate editor would decide to cut corners on production costs, or even that hotel space would be limited somewhere eventually. But you were surprised anyways when you and Steven were asked to share a room in Anaheim. Luckily, there were two beds, but it was still awkward to be sharing a room with your hot coworker for a week. What if he ran into you while he was naked? Or worse, what if he ran into YOU naked?

You shivered at the thought as you set your luggage on the ground near the window, Steven following behind. You looked over at him while he was taking his shoes off, briefly wondering if this is what a bride would feel like on her wedding night.

‘Where the hell did that thought come from?’ You asked yourself.

“Sorry about the mix up, guess you’re going to have to deal with little old me as your roommate,” he said as he stripped off his blazer and tossed it onto a nearby chair. “I should probably warn you that I’m a little messy and I go to bed pretty late.”

“I don’t mind messes, so as long as you keep it on your side of the room,” you said with a wry smile. “I tend to play my music out loud while I’m getting ready in the mornings, but I can use headphones this week. It’s not a problem.”

“No, you don’t have to use headphones. I’d love to hear what you have on your playlists,” he said, giving you a quick grin as he began unpacking his sweatpants and toiletries. “I think we’ll be okay as roommates.”

He was wrong, however, because you were definitely not okay.

You should have established a rule about a minimum amount of clothing you were allowed to wear within the room, because Steven’s habit of walking around shirtless was driving you insane. It was taking every ounce of willpower in your body to not stare. What the hell was he so ripped for? Where did he even find the time to work out?

Meanwhile Steven’s eye candy for the week was you in no makeup and fuzzy fleece pajama pants. At first, you tried to avoid taking off your makeup while he was still awake. But you soon realized that he wasn’t lying when he said he went to bed late. You waited until 2 am on the first night before giving up and going about your skincare routine. He didn’t look twice at you, so you guessed that was semi positive. At least you weren’t double take levels of ugly.

You slammed your face into the pillow and tried not to groan out loud at the looped thought of him ditching his bed for yours, since he was right across from you reading an Agatha Christie novel. Ugh, of course he reads. As if he wasn’t perfect enough.

“Are you okay?” Steven asked.

“Great,” you lied. “It’s just a little cold in here.”

“Do you want my comforter? I kick it down to the edge of the bed anyways.”

You accepted the offered blanket, even though you didn’t need it.

On the third day, Steven accidentally walked into the bathroom right after you finished taking a shower. Thankfully, you had a towel wrapped around you, but you were startled nonetheless, nearly tripping out of surprise. He grabbed onto your arm and waist instinctually to steady you, but quickly let go of as if he’d been burned.

“Um, sorry,” he blurted before walking right back out, a blush high on his cheeks.

That was strange, you’d thought. He’d never blushed in front of you before. It was kind of adorable. Obviously you thought of Steven as handsome and attractive, and in the deep recesses of your mind, you agreed with his position as a sex symbol. But you’d never seen him as cute before. He was always much too polished. It was sort of nice to see him at a loss like that.

When you’d stepped out of the shower, he’d disappeared entirely, with only a note saying he left to go get some tea and to text him if you wanted anything. You smirked to yourself and briefly considered wearing shorts and a tank top to bed just to see how he’d react, before banishing the idea from your mind. That would be much too obvious and you didn’t want to just throw yourself at him, even though you were very tempted to. It would make your professional relationship awkward, and you liked the dynamic you had already.

Instead, you texted him to ask for popcorn so you could have a movie night and watch a horror film together. He returned with a bag full of that healthy popcorn you hate for being tasteless for himself, and a bag full of Chicago mix popcorn for you. You gasped and thanked him when he tossed it at you before he climbed into his own bed.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“Uh, waiting for you to start the movie?”

“You’re really going to watch it all the way over there?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Steven rolled his eyes and groaned as if you were greatly inconveniencing him, but got into your bed anyways. Mission Get Steven’s Attention: Accomplished. Now you could enjoy the movie with his body heat pressed up against your side, and maybe pretend to be scared halfway through so you could cling onto him.

Though it turned out that plan was unnecessary, because Steven turned out to be terrible with gore. He had his face buried into the crook of your neck, peeking out every now and again to see if the coast was clear. It was interesting, because you were sure Steven had seen much more graphic things at CNN, and those were worse because they were real. You mentioned as much to him, and he told you that was the problem. These scenes reminded him of the very real, very terrible things he had seen in his line of work. You turned the TV off and stroked a hand through his curls comfortingly.

“Why did you agree to this?” You asked softly, leaving the ‘if you knew this was going to happen’ unspoken.

“I thought that it had been long enough,” he said, pulling away from your shoulder. He tried to hide it, but his eyes were a little puffy and red from the tears he was trying to hold back. “That those scenes wouldn’t be vivid in my mind after all this time.”

“It’s only been a few months,” you whispered, turning to face him better. He blinked at you as you reached over to wipe the tears that had managed to slip past his control. “I wish you would have said something, the last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable or bring up bad memories. I would never do that to you. You’re one of my favorite people.”

Instead of replying, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in close. A comfortable quietness enveloped the two of you, only the sound of his slightly uneven breathing and his heartbeat kept the room from being completely silent.

“Thank you.”

“No. Thank you,” you said. “For being vulnerable with me.”

Part 2

thank you for reading  ♡  you can find my masterlist here  

[shotorozu]

Hi! Before anything I wanted to lyk I've read through some of your work and you've easily become one of my favorite writers :) I was wondering if you could do a bit of a comfort post? If not that's totally okay! If so, could it be hcs for Bakugo, Shinso, and maybe Aizawa (but not in like a relationship kinda way for him, like a student opening up to their teacher) telling them about being gender fluid? What would be their reactions? How would they adjust to the name change and using different pronouns? I recently told my bf and he didn't seem too up for it, eventually I told him to use my given name and she/her, kinda bummed lmao. I totally understand if you don't want to write for this, tysm either way! Have a great night/day :) (I'm so sorry this is so lengthy lmaooo)

reader coming out as gender fluid

character(s) : bakugou katsuki, shinsou hitoshi, aizawa shouta (bnha)

legend : [Y/N = your name, D/N = deadname] gender neutral, quirk not specific

headcanon type : hurt-comfort, fluff (x reader; platonic)

note(s) : first of all, i’m sorry about what happened with your boyfriend, if he cares about you, then he should’ve been supportive. it’s disheartening knowing that you decided to have him address you by your birth name, and by she/her. it should never be that way, especially when you felt comfortable coming out to HIM as gender fluid.

anon, i really hope this post gives you comfort, and if you want to talk— my dms are open!

»»————-　♡　————-««

bakugou katsuki

he wasn’t so sure on why you were acting all skittish all of a sudden, and he just wished you told him what was up

as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, katsuki really hates seeing you this down— and if only he could ‘kill those pesky emotions!!’

after a long day at school, katsuki decided to demand an immediate answer, on WHY you were acting like this

you express your concern, and even though katsuki’s rough words say otherwise— he’s willing to help (as much as he could)

but he wasn’t expecting you to come out as genderfluid

the entire pronoun thing had him confused, and it wasn’t in the “huh?? why would you want that?” type of confusion

it was rather like the “i thought they/them were plural pronouns?” confusion, but don’t be misguided! a quick google search fixed it up, and now he gets it.

with the name thing,, it took him two tries for him to get it right— but he’ll treat you like royalty if he accidentally slips up. he doesn’t mean to disrespect you

out of everyone here— he would be the most confused at first, since he hasn’t had anyone come out to him in like,, ever

katsuki feels so honored to have you feel comfortable enough to come out to him.

everyone is so intimidated by his short-tempered demeanor, to the point that no one has shared such an important, and personal detail to him

he’ll pull you in for a hug, large warm hands rubbing your back— and he’s trying to be gentle, okay?

“you really thought i was gonna say some bullshit about this, huh?” was what he first said to break the silence “i could care less about what you fucking identify with, you’re still you.”

and he means it

if anyone disrespects you, he’s blowing them up into space— enraged that anyone would try to disrespect you.

katsuki’s also very quick to correct someone if they ever deadname you “IT’S Y/N, NOT D/N!”

rip to them

shinsou hitoshi

as soon as he notices that something’s wrong, his eyes will be on you— and only you.

he wishes he had some sort of mind reading quirk— he wants to know what’s on your mind, just so he could help you

hitoshi doesn’t want to be pushy, so he can only wait for you to come to him— but he will leave subtle hints that you could tell him anything that was on your mind.

so that’s when you decide to tell him your worries, and everything— feeling that you’re ready to come out to him as gender fluid

a small genuine smile will grace his face, pulling you into a loose embrace— “thank you for feeling comfortable enough to tell me.”

the next thing he does is ask you if you want to go by anything else— just in case you do want to be addressed differently.

you’ll still be his kitty anyway, so it’s not like this change would negatively affect him.

you’ll never catch him slipping up

i’m sure he’s probably familiar with different types of identities— so gender fluidity isn’t a stranger topic to him

so because of this, he adapts pretty easily— cooperating with the new revelations with ease

rip to anyone that has the audacity to deadname or misgender you, it’s not something he takes very lightly similar to bakugou and aizawa

he’ll understand if it’s a innocent mistake, but he still won’t be pleased with the offender— that’s strike one for him

i swear— his glare will make anyone shart their pants in a second. it’s ruthless

hitoshi won’t hesitate on using his quirk on anyone that purposely disrespects you— and for once, he doesn’t care about what others will say about him.

they shouldn’t have disrespected you 🤷‍♀️ just saying

if you wanted to buy clothes that were a lot more gender neutral, he’s perfectly fine with that too!

hitoshi doesn’t care if you strip him of every single penny and dime that was in his wallet for hoodies and sweatpants.

he just wants your happiness to be at it’s highest at all times— because a happy Y/N makes a happy hitoshi <3

aizawa shouta

even though he has to take care and supervise 23 growing teenagers, he still manages to notice if something’s wrong with one of them it’s impressive!

of course— aizawa’s a busy man, and he’s constantly tired. but, it would make him feel a lot better if all of his students were content with themselves

so seeing you down was something he noticed since the moment you came in

it’s not like he could FORCE you to tell him what was wrong, that’s not the approach he’s looking for

and besides, if you told him that everything was fine, then he couldn’t really push it. his concern didn’t really die down though

a few days later, aizawa decides to talk to you again— basically consenting you to come talk to him when the time’s right

but he didn’t see this coming

so that’s when you decide to come out to him first, spilling out your concerns, and the worries that plagued your mind— worried that people wouldn’t accept your new identity as a gender fluid person

now, aizawa has met a lot of people in his life. from different ages, people with different quirks, and of course— different identities

he asks you why you decided to tell him first, and you told him that it’s because you felt comfortable knowing he knew first

“thank you for telling me, Y/N” he thanks you calmly with a comforting hand on your shoulder “i’m proud of you.”

he asks you if you want to go by a different name, and he’ll make sure to start calling you by that name (even though he calls all of his students by their last name)

oh, and he immediately switches pronouns! i know that should be expected but,, it’s so natural wow

of course, he won’t out you to anyone if you’re not ready to come out to the rest

and because of how natural the pronouns switch is, no one notices it when aizawa started addressing you with they/them

but if you’re ready to come out, he’ll be there— silently making sure that everyone accepts you.

okay but he’ll get so defensive if anyone misgenders you or dead names you— his capture tape will start floating, and his eyes will shine red

which is weird because.. who has the guts to dead name/misgender AIZAWA SHOUTA’s student?? anyone that does that in front of him is INSANE

in short, he’s very supportive— he won’t blow it out of proportion, because he knows how uncomfortable that’d feel if he did

but he’s glad to know that you decided to share such a important detail to him— aizawa might be always tired, but he wouldn’t dare to forget such detail

you’re his student after all, he cares about you lots— if you’re content with yourself, then that’d bring him inner peace

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission

[fandom-monium]

In Your Eyes - Episode 1

Soulmates - Heterochromatic Eyes AU: In which the soulmate system isn’t everything it seems and Shouto could be the only one who sees it.

Tags/Warnings: soulmate AU, friends to enemies to friends to lovers trope, Shouto Todoroki x GenderNeutral!Reader

AN: Fuck you, Tumblr, for glitching out my entire masterlist and every piece of work I’ve made over the years. Here’s the reupload. I hope the new gen enjoys this, and if you’re an old reader who liked my works in the past, I hope you enjoy the nostalgia?

A soulmate is a person who is ideally suited to another as a close friend or romantic partner. Your other half, the person that completed you, made you better, and understood you like no one else. It’s rare to find your soulmate. There’s billions of people in this world, so what’s the possibility you’d find yours?

The chances are you won’t. Although, it’s not impossible. There’s people who have had significant others even without finding their fated other half, but the yearning to find their soulmate has never faded.

Centuries ago, the gods were fed up by the pain put on mankind often caused by futile searches. One god and/or goddess (because we don’t discriminate) in particular decided to deal with the problem.

Thus, heterochromatic eyes became the solution. At birth, people receive two different colored eyes, the right yours and the other your soulmate’s. Upon meeting your soulmate’s eyes for the first time, your soulmate eye will return so that your eyes will match. The god made this system to assist mankind with finding their soulmate. To find true love. To find happiness.

However, that was a matter of opinion.

Todoroki Shouto doesn’t know about soulmates till he is 5. His mother is in the midst of comforting him again after a rather intense training session with his father. His small, beaten body curls at his mother’s lap. He sobs in pain and fear, tears staining her pants. She doesn’t mind. She’s more focused on trying to comfort her youngest son. Shouto’s mother presses her lips together, trying to contain her own tears, trying to be strong for him.

“I hate him, Mommy,” Shouto hiccups. It wracks his whole body. “I don’t want to be like him.”

It’s not unusual for his mother and him to end up like this, Shouto at his mother’s lap and her comforting him. It’s become a routine since he started training. But this time seems to last longer than most. The same comfort routine doesn’t work. He still cries and he hugs his mother close, burying his face into her stomach.

Shouto’s mother doesn’t know what to do but tries to stay calm. She pats his back softly, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. How else can she comfort her child?

Then she gets an idea.

“Shouto, have I ever told you about soulmates?” Shouto’s mother asks gently. She’s afraid a single word might shatter the boy.

For a second, Shouto pauses, his arms still wrapped around her waist. She takes it as a sign to continue.

“Do you know what soulmates are?”

He shakes his head into her stomach.

“Well, come out and I’ll tell you.”

And it works. Miraculously, Shouto stops crying and the tears are left forgotten. Instead he watches his mother, mesmerized as she tells him how their world works, of soulmates and how they would bring each other happiness, and fairy tales involving searches for soulmates, fights about soulmates, and other interesting tales.

The idea of happiness gives Shouto hope. He doesn’t notice as his mother gives him a strained smile.

After all, they are just fairy tales, and only fairy tales have a happy ending.

……..

Todoroki Shouto is 6 when he realizes he might not have a soulmate. It happens late at night when he wakes up to go to the bathroom. Once he finishes washing his hands, Shouto stares into his eyes on the bathroom mirror. He smiles tiredly. He’s still hopeful that he’ll one day meet his soulmate. Then he remembers his mother’s words.

“People are born with heterochromatic eyes, that means different colored eyes. The right eye’s their own eye color and the other their soulmate’s. And when they meet their soulmate’s eyes for the first time, their soulmate eyes will switch so that they become the same color.” His eyes widen in shock and his smile drops.

Between training with his father and being with his mother, he never took the time to notice his eyes. They aren’t different colors. They are the same.

At this, he rushes out of the bathroom to search for his mother. Why are his eyes the same color? Did he meet his soulmate already? Or did his mother make a mistake?

Shouto finds his mother in the kitchen. She’s talking on the phone, and he waits at the door to see if she’ll end the call. Her voice trembles as she speaks, “Mom, I know it’s not right, but I can’t do it anymore. They’re like him more and more everyday. And Shouto,” This catches his attention. “His left side, sometimes I look at him and hate what I see.”

What?

His mother’s figure shakes, closer to her breaking point. “I can’t raise him anymore. I shouldn’t raise him.”

“Mommy?” Shouto calls out.

His mother jolts in surprise before turning to him, her eyes dilated.

She’s not the same is his last thought, and he realizes his mistake.

Then everything burns, and Shouto doesn’t get the chance to ask about his eyes.

……..

Todoroki Shouto is forced to grow up when he concludes that soulmates are a hindrance. A pain. Up till the young age of 6, he only knew that soulmates were supposed to make each other happy. That’s what his mother tells him. He believes her.

Shouto was so focused on imagining his soulmate that he never thought to ask. If Father was her soulmate, why wasn’t she happy with him?

It isn’t until his mother is taken away when he realizes how broken the soulmate system is. Shouto despises it. Loathes it. He hates it almost as much as he hates his father. He remembers his mother every time he reminds himself why. He thinks about people like his mother who are stuck with people like his father, thinks about people who don’t want their soulmate, and people who choose someone else over their soulmate.

Shouto thinks about how there’s no choice. How happiness is not guaranteed.

Shouto knows that it doesn’t apply to everyone. There are many people who happily live with their soulmate. But he can’t help feeling jealous for those who are lucky enough to be matched with good people. People who can make each other happy.

……..

Todoroki Shouto is 10 when he accepts that he doesn’t have a soulmate. Since his mother was taken, he doesn’t think about soulmates a lot. He’s endured 4-5 years of training with his father. Forgotten what it feels like to be comforted by a mother. His brothers and especially his sister, Fuyumi, do what they can for him, but it’s not the same. Because of his father, Shouto is mostly separated from them. His father went so far as to put him in a different, more prestigious school in order to achieve his goal.

In his darkest times when only silence is there for him, Shouto tries to distract himself. Whether with training or something else productive to keep his mind occupied. He doesn’t care. He can’t stand doing nothing. He dislikes when he daydreams. He’s afraid it might give him false hope. But sometimes he stares in the mirror and finds himself wondering about his soulmate. What would it be like to meet them? Would they think his scar is ugly? Maybe-

Then Shouto looks at his eyes and remembers. They’re not heterochromatic. Not like his brothers’ or sister’s or everyone else in the world. They’re the same color. But strangely, his eyes aren’t the same color as his parents. Not a warm gray like his mother’s or a cold blue like his father’s. That part leaves him curious. None of his closest relatives have (eye color) eyes either as far as he knows.

When his brothers are out (if they’re around, they’ll tease him till he freezes them) and it’s only his sister at home, Shouto finally asks about his eyes and what they mean.

“Why are they the same color?”

Fuyumi’s eyes widen and she nearly drops the dish she’s washing. “What?”

“Why are my eyes the same color? Shouto asks again, a bit impatiently. He’s wanted a reasonable answer since he was younger. Fuyumi is smart. He figures she could at least give him one.

“I didn’t think you even cared about soulmates,” Fuyumi stops what she’s doing, turning to give him her full attention. “Why the sudden interest?”

“It’s clear that I haven’t met my soulmate, yet my eyes are both (eye color). M-” Shouto catches himself before he continues. “-I was told that everyone is born with heterochromatic eyes till they meet their soulmate. So… why?”

For a moment, Fuyumi stares at him in surprise. She’s never seen Shouto show interest in anything else except maybe training or studying. She asks, “Shouto, what do you know about soulmates?”

Shouto blinks, more impatient now that she’s answered his question with a question. “I know that everyone is born with heterochromatic eyes till they meet their soulmate, and when you meet them your eye color switches so they become the same,” he states robotically. He doesn’t add that they supposedly bring each other happiness.

He knows that’s not true.

“Well, not exactly. Not everyone is born with heterochromatic eyes,” Fuyumi answers. “It’s true that most are born with them, but there are the rare few who aren’t. I don’t know much, but I’ve heard that those who aren’t born with heterochromatic eyes don’t have soulmates. In my opinion, I think it’s a sign. A sign that they aren’t tied down by the soulmate system, by the gods, or the universe. A sign they’re free to make their own choice.”

Shouto says nothing. Then he thanks his older sister for her answer and leaves silently, contemplating.

Shouto doesn’t worry about his eyes after that. He used to when he was younger. He would fret about not having a soulmate. Now he feels slightly relieved.

He isn’t tied down to someone he might not even like.

……..

Todoroki Shouto is now 16 and has long forgotten about soulmates. Well, not entirely. He knows they exist and knows the soulmate system is broken, but he stops caring. Enduring 10-11 years of training with his father, Shouto is completely focused on rebelling against him and surpassing All Might. Nothing more, nothing less.

When he first becomes acquainted with his classmates, one of the first questions he gets is, why are your eyes the same color? Or, you met your soulmate already? His classmates aren’t the first to ask this personal question. Many others have asked. He gives the same answer every time.

“I don’t have one.”

The reaction varies depending on the person, but he’s used to it. People like Yaoyorozu Momo and Kirishima Eijiro politely apologize for prying. People like Uraraka Ochako and Midoriya Izuku nod in understanding, minding their own business. Then people like Bakugou Katsuki and Minoru Mineta have the audacity to laugh in his face because even they have soulmates.

(Shouto pities whoever’s stuck with them. He wonders how their soulmates could tolerate those two.)

Shouto isn’t mad or anything. His expression remains neutral, unfazed. None of that bothers him. Not anymore. Most are naturally curious and polite about it. He shouldn’t be angry at them. But when he sees the pity in their eyes, it makes him want to give frostbite and third degree burns as a reply instead.

He doesn’t need pity. He doesn’t need a soulmate. He’s done just fine on his own.

However, the topic of soulmates is popular. Unavoidable. Other Yuuei students, mostly girls for some reason, come up and ask him if he’s met his soulmate because of his eyes. He gives them the same answer.

“I don’t have one,” he replies.

“I don’t have one,” he clenches his fist.

“I don’t have one,” he says through gritted teeth.

Shouto gets tired of it and eventually stops answering the question. He hopes someone would spread a rumor or something for him.

Shouto sits at the lunch table eating his cold Soba with his friends. The word soulmate pops up again and he sighs, blocking out the conversation. Why is everyone so obsessed with soulmates? Can’t they see that the soulmate system wasn’t everything to life? He glances at his friends. They chatter amongst themselves as they talk about their soulmates and such. Then he looks away and focuses on eating his Soba.

They don’t mean to exclude him from the conversation. He knows that. They’re just trying to spare his feelings.

Shouto is surrounded by his friends and classmates, but he can’t help feel lonely.

……..

Todoroki Shouto is still 16 when he finally encounters his soulmate. He doesn’t know it but he does. It’s just before the Hero License Acquisition Exam. Class 1-A arrives at the national stadium in Takoba where they’ll be taking the exam, the atmosphere thick with teenage anxiety. It’s clear the students are nervous, but it fades into resolve as Aizawa finishes giving them a pep talk.

“Awesome. c'mon everybody, let’s go hatch into chicks!” Kirishima cheers, “Let’s hit out of the park like always!”

His loud, ecstatic voice catches the attention of others.

“Say it with me now, Plus…” No one notices the broad figure coming up behind him. “Ultra!”

“ULTRA!”

Everyone flinches in surprise before they turn to see a tall boy with a buzz cut standing behind Kirishima. The boy grins widely, adorning a school uniform and a signature cap.

Seeing his face, Shouto feels a spark of recognition but doesn’t react. He assumes he’ll remember him at some point.

“Don’t go crashing the circles of outsiders without invitation, Inasa,” a boy behind Inasa scolds.

“Ah, you’re right, please accept-” Inasa leans back “-my sincerest-” and throws himself forward. His skulls meets the ground with a crack. “-apologies!”

This guy is doing the lowest bow Shouto has ever seen. He doesn’t like it. It reminds him of Iida and Kirishima combined.

The chatter among the surrounding students increase as they realize that the students before Yuuei are Shiketsu Academy freshman.

“I’ve always wanted to say it at least once! ‘Plus Ultra’! I love Yuuei Academy! ” Inasa exclaims politely, standing again. “It’s such a pleasure, the highest honor, to be able to compete against Yuuei!”

“Ah, you’re bleeding,” a Shiketsu girl notes as the scrapes on his forehead well with blood, trickling down his face.

“Let’s go,” The boy who scolded Inasa begins walking to the stadium entrance. They follow without complaint.

Shouto hears from Midoriya that Inasa had the top qualification for the recommended spots, but he stops listening. Instead, he watches Inasa, his back turned to them now. Why does his face seem so familiar? He can’t remember and it annoys him.

Then someone walks up to Inasa in the same uniform as the rest of Shiketsu Academy.

Something about you pulls at Shouto’s heartstrings almost painfully. His eyes widen, pupils dilating.

Walking up to Inasa, your voice is calm as you begin to scold him. “Inasa, you should be more careful. I get you’re hot-blooded and all, but you need to chill. You get hurt over the littlest things.” You sigh, pulling out bandages and antiseptic from your bag. You begin to tend to his wounds before reaching the stadium.

“Sorry, (Last Name)-san. I’ll try to be more careful,” Inasa promises. He pats your head, grinning wider.

You swat his hand away and frown. “Don’t try. You will be more careful and stop being so extra all the time. Seriously, I can’t keep patching you up for dumb things like bowing.”

Your eyes don’t meet. Hell, you didn’t even look at him, but the way his heart pounds like a drum says it all.  Heat creeps up his neck slowly. His heartstrings feel like they’re being pulled and he almost groans as his chest aches, but it’s unlike any time he’s been injured. It’s more urgent.

Shouto decides he doesn’t like you.

So, I decided to try my hand at the downside of the soulmate system (because I’m tired of the bright side). Hope you enjoy the first episode of my soulmate au.

Splitting it into a few parts, not gonna be long though. May become a mini series? 

Episode 2 available in Masterlist

Got any requests or suggestions? Ask box is open.

[speuradair]

After School Lesson | M.N.

(Author’s Note- This is a reupload of a fic I posted a few months ago. I realized that it was deleted at some point? I’m not sure how or why, but here it is again lol)

Word Count: 3.1k

Contains: Death mention, swearing, angst, injury

Requested: by @technolilly​

“Hi! How about a Makoto X Reader where Makoto, Kyoko, and the reader were the three most suspicious people in the Mukuro trial. During the trial, Reader takes the blame off Makoto but at the last second Kyoko throws the reader under the bus, meaning everyone voted for reader so she was executed? Alter ego saves her and then Makoto and Kyoko rescue her from the garbage? Basically just make the first half really angsty and then have a happy reunion? Feel free to change anything you want! Tysm! “

-

“Being optimistic is the only thing I’m good at.” - Makoto Naegi

-

Thousands of horrific incidents happened everyday. People got attacked, things got stolen, accidents happened. It was just a fact of life. Yet somehow, even after hearing news reports of heinous crimes everyday of your almost eighteen years of life, you’re still never prepared for anything horrific to happen to you.

Then again, this kind of thing was recognizably unprecedented. In all of those newscasts you’d heard, both actively and passively, you’d never heard about anything like this. How could you have possibly prepared to be thrown into the midst of a Killing Game? 

Though it was hard to keep track of the days while being secluded away, you were certain you’d been trapped in Hope’s Peak Academy for at least a month. There had been over 730 hours to process this, but it still didn’t feel real. Maybe on some level you were subconsciously clinging onto a false shred of hope that this was just a night terror, or maybe your mind just wasn’t willing to admit that things really were this dire. Regardless of the reasoning, you’d spent your days here in an unlikely mix of dread and apathy. You were both hyper-aware and numb. 

And somehow, even in moments of heightened tension like this one, you found yourself spacing out and losing small chunks of time. You hadn’t even noticed you’d zoned out at first, and you certainly hadn’t intended to, but you realized you’d missed the last minute or so of the Class Trial. In circumstances like this, not catching a minute’s worth of conversation could have been a deadly mistake.

“Without my room key, I couldn’t have possibly put the locker key in there myself.”

Kirigiri was still debating Byakuya’s claim that she must’ve killed Mukuro, as the key to the locker holding the believed murder weapon was found in her room. Thankfully, that meant you couldn’t have missed anything too revolutionary. You took this to be reassuring and allowed your gaze to deviate from the two arguing over to the brown haired boy standing at the podium beside yours. The trial was in full swing and Makoto looked as pensive as everyone in the room did, but he still remembered to keep a tight, reassuring grip on your hand as you stood in the space next to his. While preoccupied with pinning the culprit, there was still a part of his mind focused on comforting you. 

“Does no one have any objections? Do you accept what Kirigiri is saying?” 

After receiving only silence , Byakuya sighed. “I see. We have no choice but to accept it. It wasn’t Kirigiri who put the locker key in her room, but someone else.”

“But.. who is ‘someone else’? Toges, you had Kiri’s key, right?” Hiro questioned. 

“Yes, but I have an alibi. After 10 p.m., I was with you all. It’s not possible for me to have murdered Mukuro Ikusaba or to have put the key in Kirigiri’s room.”

“Then who did put the key in Kiri’s room?” Byakuya was quick to answer Hiro again. “There’s only one reasonable possibility- He had the key with him and pretended as though he found it in Kirigiri’s room.” “You’re talking about... Naegi?” Aoi’s voice cracked a bit as she spoke, a look not unlike betrayal clouding over her soft features. 

“That’s the only explanation.”

“That’s not possible,” You spoke up without a second thought, though your voice was weaker than you had intended, “While we were investigating in the bio lab, Makoto gave me his jacket, and there definitely wasn’t anything in his pockets then. We went straight to the garden so he could meet with Byakuya after that, so he couldn’t have stopped to get it. If it wasn’t in his jacket, where else would he have been able to hide that bulky key without you noticing he had it?”

“Hm, I suppose that is a fair point. It would have been rather difficult to conceal it just beneath his shirt..” Byakuya looked away again in thought, seemingly satisfied with your reasoning.

“He actually took off his jacket? I didn’t think he ever took that thing off...”

“Oh yeah, he totally did! (Name) was still wearing it when they came into the garden! She even had her hands in the pockets,” Aoi confirmed to Yasuhiro, her voice brighter now that her friend didn’t seem like the culprit. 

“You had his jacket, (name)?” Kyouko raised her hand to her chin in thought, “It’s true that Makoto clearly didn’t have the key in his pocket when he gave her his jacket, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t in his pocket when he got it back.”

“Huh?” 

Other than Makoto, Kirigiri was the student you trusted the most. You’d covered for her multiple times, and followed her command even when you didn’t understand her motives or reasoning. You had offered to let her stay in your room with you last night when Byakuya confiscated her key. In a normal high school scenario, you wouldn’t have hesitated to call her one of your best friends. 

She couldn’t possibly be implying what you thought… right? 

“If the key wasn’t in his pocket this morning and he never stopped back at his dorm, he couldn’t have had it when the murder took place. Yet somehow it was in his pocket by the time he needed to plant it in my room,” she spoke with an almost chilling certainty. “There was only one person who would have had the opportunity to pass the key off to him in time.”

She sounded calm, not at all like someone accusing their friend of murder. 

“Hold on-” Makoto raised his hands defensively, unintentionally tugging the one in your grasp away rather harshly. He wasn’t happy when he was under suspicion, but now she was accusing you? 

But Kyouko didn’t yield. 

“Makoto was the only person who could have placed the key in my room, but there’s only one person who could have had it when Mukuro was killed. There’s also only one person that Makoto would be willing to cover for- his girlfriend.”

“What?!” you practically spit out your response. 

“H-hold on a second! That’s not what happened!” Makoto was reeling. “Let’s think things through again! There’s something at work behind the scenes here- there has to be! This whole class trial doesn’t make any sense, don’t you guys agree?! Mukuro Ikusaba, who we’d never seen before, suddenly shows up dead… and there’s a class trial for it?! A- and Kirigiri was saying, too, that this is all a trap set by the Puppetmaster! So it’s gotta be-” 

Monokuma’s shrill voice cut off Makoto’s desperate rambling. “Okay! Time’s up!”

“What?”

“Time’s uuuup! The Class Trial is oooover! So there’s no need to talk about anything else!” 

“W- what the hell? We’re out of time?” Makoto replied first, your reaction trailing quickly after. 

“Hold on, what do you mean? That’s not fair!”

“We’ve never had a time limit!” Suddenly even Kyouko looked panicked, her restraint and conviction having vanished as the trail was definitively ended. There was no going back. 

“All thanks to your tardiness, Kirigiri! ‘Cause of you, we were tight on time! With that said, you guys, it’s Ballot Time! Please cast your ballot using the switch in front of you!”

Makoto’s green eyes met yours as you both turned towards each other at the same time. The look of pure trepidation and disbelief etched onto his features must’ve mirrored yours perfectly. 

“Ballot… time?”

-

“I’m… the culprit?” your voice was soft, almost too quiet for even your boyfriend beside you to hear it. 

“N-no, that’s not right, guys-” Makoto was immediately shaking his head in shock and confusion, his hand reaching out for yours again desperately as he tried to make a last minute plea for them to believe him. Your words cut him off though, the panic fully setting in. 

“That’s not right! I didn’t do it! Th- this doesn’t make any sense!” 

“It’s time for another super exciting, heart-pounding punishment!!”

Your gaze directly snapped to Kirigiri, who looked even paler than usual- as if the weight of what her lies had caused was setting in. You’d had her back this entire time, and she blamed you. She framed you.  “W- why me?”

“I have no illusions for earning your forgiveness, because all of this is my fault..” her response was simple and to the point, just like her answers always were. She was acting like she usually did, except that she’d just betrayed you in the most brutal way possible. 

“Kirigiri, tell them-” Makoto made his own frantic appeal for her to clear this up, to do anything to stop them from ripping you away from him. He moved urgently, throwing his arms around you and clutching you to his chest. They couldn’t just execute you when you weren’t the actual culprit, right? This wasn’t how this game was supposed to be played. 

Yet Monokuma insisted, and you were forcefully dragged away from your boyfriend’s secure embrace. 

“Let’s get the ball rollin’! It’s punishment time!”

You have been found guilty. Time for the punishment! 

The sharp fibers of the ropes around your legs and wrists dug into your skin, dispelling any chance you had at convincing yourself that this was just some bad dream. You could feel the frayed rope stabbing your skin, the sputtering of the conveyor belt below your desk, the shake that spread through the room with every 

Thud 

thud

thud

Of the giant machine pounding into the ground behind you. 

Almost against your own will, you were flailing against the chair, screaming and sobbing, begging for help. No one could help you, no matter how hard you screamed, and flailing only made the sharp rope cut into your skin more than it already was. 

This wasn’t how this was supposed to end. You’d promised Makoto that the two of you would take down the Mastermind and get out of here together, yet somehow, you’d ended up in the execution chair. For a crime you didn’t commit. This was it, this was how you went. You had lost and there was nothing you could do about it. 

You were going to be blackened, and you had to accept it.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you tried to calm yourself, though your chest still shook with sobs. 

You thought of Makoto. You thought of how he’d been so reassuring and supportive during your time here. How he’d pull you into his side when you got too overwhelmed, or hold your hand when you investigated together. How warm he felt when he’d squeeze you into a tight hug, or how nice his jacket smelled when he let you wear it. How he could never tie his uniform tie correctly. How he had looked at you with pure love in his eyes that day while lying together under a sakura tree outside of the school, with the warm sun filtering through the petals onto your skin… when had that happened?

But a sudden new sound startled you and you opened your eyes without thinking. The heavy foot of the machine had frozen, and was now giving off a grating buzzing noise as if it was trying with all its power to still move, to still crush. 

You almost missed it in your surprise, but out of the corner of your eye you caught a familiar face flash onto the screen in front of you. Alter Ego? 

Then you were falling. The foot had stopped, but the conveyor belt had kept going and the desk rolled off of it, sending you flying backwards into the dark. 

Your eyes opened slowly, fogginess swelling in your mind as you tried to remember what happened and where you were.  Unfortunately, it only took a few moments for the violent memories of the trial and execution to come flooding back to you. The crushing block had halted, but then you fell backwards, still tied tight to the old wooden desk. Splintered bits of that desk lied around you, seemingly having shattered on impact. That same impact must've knocked you unconscious, but you were most definitely alive. Alter Ego had stopped the execution. 

You weren’t sure where you had ended up at first; it wasn’t a part of the school you’d seen before. Considering the rancid smell and large piles of garbage, there was really only one place it could be- the bottom of the trash chute. 

Pushing through the pounding headache pulsing from your neck, you stood to your feet to study your surroundings. Did you still have to watch out for Monokuma and the Mastermind, or had they presumed you to be dead? Had they all presumed you to be dead? Naturally your thoughts returned to Makoto- had he assumed you were dead? That thought made you feel even more nauseous than you had been from your probable concussion. There was a chance that everyone had written off trying to help you, even your boyfriend. You wanted to believe that he wouldn’t stop looking for you until he was absolutely certain you were gone, but your frayed nerves coaxed you to dwell on that feeling, that despair, of being totally forgotten. 

Salty tears slipped onto your lips, the sudden taste snapping you back to reality a bit. You hadn’t even realized you were crying at first. What was the point of crying now? That wasn’t going to accomplish anything other than intensifying your dehydration. The only productive thing you could do was to search for food, water or a way out. 

The large door at the front of the room was bolted shut. Of course it was. All of the food was rotten. Of course it was. With no way out and no food to eat, the only thing you could do was to give into the exhaustion- both mental and physical. 

So you slept. You hadn't really slept since this killing game had started, and though this wasn't any less tense of a situation, it was the first time in a while where there wasn't anything to do. There was no investigating to do or people to watch out for. Down here, the only thing you could do was feed that need to sleep. 

A loud thud shook the ground and startled you awake, your eyes immediately scanning the area cautiously. Nothing looked different at first, but you were certain that something heavy had just fallen down. Then you noticed that all too familiar green jacket peeking out of what must have been a new pile of trash bags. 

"M- Makoto?!" 

He groaned for a second, trying to recover from the rough landing, before his green eyes flickered open. They met with yours, and somehow, even in this twisted situation, his gaze still made your heart race. 

"(Name)! You're okay!" The clumsy boy scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could, trying not to slip on the trash he'd fallen down with. He barely wasted a second to steady himself before throwing his arms around you, pulling you into his chest as tightly as he could.  

It almost didn't feel real, like maybe you'd hallucinated him out of desperation and hunger from the last day or so of being down here alone. You hugged him back just as tightly, as if he might slip away if you didn't cling to him. Despite the lingering scent of trash around you, he still smelled as comforting and nice as you remembered. He still ran his fingers through your hair soothingly like he usually did. He still felt like home. 

He was really here, he'd come to save you. 

After a few moments of clinging to each other in silence, he lifted his fingers from your hair, a soft gasp leaving his lips. “Your head was bleeding?”

“I guess I landed wrong,” you tried to joke, though your laugh was breathy and unconvincing. Your dizziness and headache implied a concussion, but you weren’t ready to volunteer that information to him yet. In turn he pulled away to look you over completely

 “You look so much better than I expected though! I kinda thought maybe you wouldn't be..." He didn't dare finish that thought. He'd come entirely too close to losing you too many times for him to even say it out loud anymore. "I was really worried about you." 

"I wasn't sure you'd come after me," you confessed softly, burying your face in his shoulder as you leaned into him again. 

"I'll... always come after you." He pressed an endearing kiss to your messy, splayed hair as a flustered blush set in on his cheeks. Even after going through all of this together and being together like you had, Makoto still got embarrassed from affection and admitting his feelings so blatantly.

“I brought you food and water.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice. You reached out to grab what he was holding immediately. Simple bread and water had never seemed so delicious. 

After waiting for you to finish eating, which admittedly didn’t take very long, he laced his long fingers with yours. “C’mon, we need to get you out of here.”

“How? That door is locked and there’s no way we can climb high enough to go back out through the trash chute..” 

He flashed you that knowing, assured grin that you loved so much. It couldn’t have been more than a few days since you’d seen him, but seeing him smile at you like that again was enough to make you want to cry and cling to him tighter than you ever had before. Had there been no rush to get out of this hole, you would’ve done just that. 

His free hand disappeared into his jacket pocket for just a second before returning into sight with a shiny silver key in its grasp. 

“Kirigiri… gave you the Monokuma key?” After her dedicated attempt to frame you in the last trial, you weren’t too hopeful that she would be helpful in rescuing you. “Why?”

“It’s… a long story, that she wants to tell you herself, but she’s really close to figuring everything out. She’s the one who snuck me into the trash room and down the chute,” he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly with his free hand. “She’s waiting to let us out through the trapdoor there now. On the other side of that door there should be a ladder that leads back up.”

“She’s almost found the Mastermind?”

He nodded earnestly.

“Good. I want to get out of this stupid school. I want us to get out together.”

“Me too,” he promised softly, “But right now we have to get you out of this horrible place.”

[aquaticalay]

Old Flames Die Hard (The Mandalorian x reader)

Summary: You've only seen Din Djarin's face once before, when you were younger. Now he shows up at your door looking for shelter, and he can't help but crave your touch.

Warning: fluffy smut and blindfolding. Bit of angst :)

Word count: 2.6k

Note: literally no one asked for this, but I'm in love with Mando, so enjoy! :)))

Also I'm reuploading this bcs tumblr apparently hates me and they took this off the tags

Your peaceful reading was disturbed by the sound of a firm knock on your door. You look. away from you scrolls, wondering who might be here this early in the morning. 

Walking to the front door of your hut, you peek from the hole of the door viewer to check who it was.

A familiar helmet and figure stood on the other side of the door. You inhale sharply because the figure was too familiar.

What could he want from you? After all this time?

You open the door, an inevitable warm smile plastered to your face.

"Hello," you say, keeping your composure straight.

"Hello, (Y/n)," he greets. You could see how tense he becomes. You wish you could see his reaction, his emotions through the helmet, but you know better.

"What are you doing in Takodana?" You ask, tilting your head in curiosity.

So she still has it, Mando thinks to himself, those hypnotic eyes full of wonder. A gaze he had not been able to resist then.

"I need a place to lay low," he tells you. If there was ever a coldness to his voice, it was easing.

"Why—" you start to say, but was interrupted by a small, adorable squeal of a small, pale green child with eyes bigger than his nose and ears longer than his arms.

You knelt down. "Hi, little one," you coo, letting its tiny tridactyl hands curl on your pointer finger. "Where did Mando find you, hm?" You added.

"Are we welcomed inside?" Mando asks, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. You lifted the infant, rocking him gently in your arms. 

You nod. "Of course. Come in."

-

You lay the child on a bed of fur, making sure he is comfortable. When you pull your arms away from the child, it let out a high-pitched noise. It didn't want you to go.

You shush him attentively. "It's okay," you say quietly, "I am not leaving, I will be right here."

Even with your back facing Mando, you could feel his piercing stare. 

When the child yawned and relaxed, you let him rest. You take a seat on a table not far from him, where Mando was sitting across from you.

"So," you cross you arms on your chest, "Why are you running this time?"

"The child is a bounty," he tells you.

"Ah," you say, leaning back on your chair. "You helped him escape?"

He nods.

To an extent, knowing Mando rescued this child restored your faith in him. You shake your head, letting out a cynical chuckle. "This is why I am a bounty hunter no more."

"What are you now?" He asks. For the first time since he got here, you can hear that he still cares.

"A scholar," you answer lightly. "I teach travelers now."

He nods again, but does not answer with words. 

"Tell me more, Mando," you start to say, "about what you've been up to."

And he does just that for the next hour or so. You listen intently, lost in his tales of exciting adventures. 

-

You excuse yourself to your room, telling him that you needed rest after a long night of reading scrolls. You made it clear that he could knock anytime, and he could sleep to the next room if he wanted to.

You lay on the bed, trying to rest.

You could not. Not with the Mandalorian out there. Too many memories, good and bad, about him, and with him.

After fifteen minutes, you heard a knock on the door.

You sit up immediately, "Come in."

The door creaks open, and Mando steps in. A full second passed before you stood up, and it was easily the longest second of your life.

"The child is asleep," he states. His voice slightly falters, revealing the possibility of a hidden intention.

You step closer to him, until there is so little space between the two of you, not even a scroll could fit in the middle.

You both know neither of you could hold back the unspoken silence. After all, you can't just pretend that what happened between the two of you never happened.

"What are you thinking?" He asks, his voice quivering. 

You have tried to be strong, but now a pearl-like tear slid down your face. You let your arm rest on his beskar helmet, where the line of his jaw would be. "Just curious," you manage to say, "of how you've changed. How you look like now, Din."

At the mention of his birth name, his breathing hitched. As far as he was concerned, you were the only one alive who knew his name, aside from the creed.

Years ago, the night before you left the guild, you were faced with a similar situation.

You told him you were going to leave. He met you in your quarters, and there, he had given you permission to lift his helmet off his head.

You had admired him. The first and only time you saw him, you noticed how beautiful he was, strong and mature features with a boyish smile. At that point, you were convinced the Maker accidentally made an angel in the place of a human.

You kissed him that night, all tongue and teeth clashing in desperation, and you had taken him to your bed, to have one last night with him. Limbs tangled and fingers entwined, he had declared his love to you, and you did, too. Neither you nor him regretted it. The only thing you wish you could do was take him with you when you escaped the guild. You left the day after, with a heavy heart and a memory that was damn near impossible to forget.

He was an old flame that died hard.

Only for you, he had broken his vow. 

You had kept it a secret since. 

You have to make sure it stayed a secret, or the Mandalorians will not let his put his helmet back on.

Now, his hands are on either side of his helmet. He slowly slides it up. "Why don't you find out?" He asks, almost taunting, challenging.

Before he could lift his helmet too far off, you gently brought both your hands over his, and pulled the steel dome back down.

"No," you let out a ghostly whisper. "Don't."

"Do you not lov— want me anymore?" His voice shatters. That's how you know that he is as heartbroken as you. "Is there someone else?" He asks, his voice straining.

"No," you say. The dam behind your eyes broke, tears dropping off your chin. It wasn't crying, no. It was the beginning of a desolate sobbing that came from a person who had built a wall over their emotions. "There has never been anyone but you, Din. There will never be."

He pushed his gloves off, the metal pieces carelessly clanging to the floor. His calloused fingers wiped your tears away, rubbing circles on your skin. "Then I ask for your permission to do this once again."

You step back, and his hand falls back hopelessly to his sides.

"I want to," you whisper, only barely audible, "But I will not. For your sake. I will not let you break your vow again."

"You did not mind when you held me that night, in Navarro." His voice is now softer, defeated. He will not ask again, if you do not wish to, but he had to know why.

You hold his hand. You step forward again, this time the gesture was more certain. "We were young. I did not understand what the Mandalorians meant back then. I am a scholar, Din. I learn, especially from my mistakes," Gently, you kisse his palm. It's a show of affection, and Din let you. 

By any means, you did not think he was a mistake. The night you spent wasn't a mistake either. The mistake was simply your lack of experience. Your lack of knowledge. 

You continue, "I did not respect the Mandalorians enough, then. I did not respect you enough. I do now."

He moves his hand, and you let it wander your facial features. 

His hand moves to your hair. He unties your headband, a piece of cloth that held your locks together. You hair spill on over your eyes, and he tucks them behind your ears.

Oh, you thought to yourself.

Your mouth opened a little, realizing his intentions. His finger went under your chin, lifting it up. "Do you know what I'm about to do?"

He asks, his voice as coarse as sand.

"Yes," you admit.

"Would you let me?"

"Yes."

"Do you trust me?" He asks one last time.

You have never been more certain, "Yes."

Slowly, but surely, he covers your eyes with the cloth of your headband. He tied a knot on the back of your head, not too tight to hurt you, but tight enough so it wouldn't fall off.

He was a smart man, and still is.

"Can you see?" He asks.

"No," you reply honestly. Almost breathless, you thank the Maker that the questions he's been asking doesn't need more than a one-word answer at a time. 

"Can I take my helmet off now?"

"Yes," you sigh. You can hear him taking it off and you assumed he laid it on the floor. 

You gasp when you felt your lips against his, cold and desperate. Isolated, almost. You could feel the relief in his touch. He cups your cheeks, pulling you up towards him. What he looked like, you did not care. You know that this is him, at the fact alone is enough. It was the same person you made love to all those years ago. You know because you remember every waking moment of it.

You let the kiss become feverish and heated, placing your hand blindly on his shoulders and around his neck. You did not need to see him to know that he was smiling against your lips, that his cheeks was just as soaked with tears as yours.

Low groans unintentionally flutter out of his mouth, music to your ears.

Your hands make their way to his cheeks, caressing the rough skin. Stripped of your sight, you trail you fingers on his cheekbones and jawline to get a sense of what he looks like now. 

He pulls apart from the kiss, and you manage to hold on to his shoulders for support. You felt his hot breath against your temple, and you shiver because of it. 

"Are you sure you want this?" He asks, hopeful but uncertain. His voice is clear now, unmodulated and raw. Easier to read.

"I want this. You, Din," you whisper, raspy words dripping in desperation, "please."

Gently, his hands dance to your hips, gently squeezing it. He steps forward, pushing you until you feel your blanket and bed on the back of your feet.

He drags the invisible weight off your shoulders, making you sit down on your bed. 

You let go of him for a split second, feeling lost in the dark. Then, you hear the unmistakable clutter of beskar on the floor. Piece by piece, he placed it on the ground, his adrenaline pumping from the sight of you attentively waiting for his to strip himself off his heavy armor.

When the soft metallic noises stop and you felt his hands on your waist, you knew he was done. His hands went to your fabric belt, the only thing that held your robe together. Untying it, he pushes the article clothing off, until you were completely bare to him.

"My love." He pressed a kiss on your forehead, mouth trailing down to your nose, then to your lips. This time he doesn't hesitate, and he knocks the air straight out of your lungs. You return it with just as much passion, encouraging him to come closer. 

He opens his mouth, and you feel his tongue brush on yours, fiery and longing. He pushed even further, and you let him, until your the crown of your head hits the soft pillow beneath. You can feel him hover, shifting half of his weight on you. You let his mouth leave kisses down your neck, biting once in a while as he goes. 

It was hard to think of him as a battle-hardened bounty hunter now that he was over you, peppering loving kisses, making sure you were taken care of.

Your hands travel you his curly locks. You massage his scalp, tugging ever so slightly. You imagine his chestnut hair, the same color you've seen before, maybe with a few grey hairs given by time.

"Din," you manage to say, "Please. I can't take it anymore."

You feel him lick a stripe from your collarbone to your jawline, nipping at your skin. "Patience, my love," he mutters in your ear, pressing his teeth to you earlobe.

You shudder, heart thumping faster than your ribcage can handle.

You drag your hands down, raking his bare back. Caving into his touch, you feel your heat pooling between your legs.

You bite your lip instinctively, holding a moan. He does not say anything, but you knew it drove him crazy. 

His hand rub on your lips, and you take advantage by pressing your tone on the pad of his finger. 

"You're as beautiful as I remember," he admits. He sounds a bit sad. 

He should've gone to find you sooner. If he could turn back time, that was the only thing he'd change. 

You reply with a long purr.

His left palm runs down, squeezing your hips.

"No need for foreplay?" He asks, and you swear you could hear a hint of amusement in his voice, perhaps to cheer himself up. He probably noticed how wet you were, how submissive and desperate. 

"No," you yelp, feeling his length against your core, "Just make love to me." 

He takes the consent, sliding his cock into you. You mewl, trying your best to steady yourself, hands holding on to his back. He moves when you beg him to, rapidly slamming into you. It was slow at first, but your otherworldly moans encourage him to go faster.

His legs tangled with yours, he rocks up and down, providing counter-resistance. His rhythm ends you into cloud nine, sultry and irresistable. His hips move in a figure-8 motion, his pubic bone stimulating your bundle of nerves with explosive friction.

His breath was as heavy as yours. His lips latch on your shoulder, burying his neck into your shoulder. He does this to suppress his filthy moans so he doesn't wake the child. You, on the other hand, was forced to bite your lip, swallowing your groans.

"Din," you whisper, tone going up in pitch.

"I know, I know," he licks the shell of your ear, "Come with me."

His voice undid you, becoming the catalyst of your long-awaited satisfaction.

He rides your high, coming only a few seconds later. His heavy moans turning fulfilled breathing. 

He drops to the space next to you, your back pressed to his chest, his hands secured around your waist, you own hands on top of them, rubbing comforting circles.

The blindfold on you is still tightly wrapped, not losing its integrity at all. Frankly, you don't mind. You did not have to see him to enjoy his company. That's how much you trust him.

"Promise me," you say, your voice only barely audible, "that this is not the last time."

"I promise," he hums, his nose affectionately pressed into your hair.

You did not need to hear him say 'I love you' to know that he does.

-end

[tori-mamoru]

Kakairu game translations

The following is an attempt to translate:

Forgive me for the mistakes or if it doesn’t make sense bc honestly idk

The video was originally put together by ‘pon’ on nico nico douga and reuploaded to youtube. If anyone notices mistakes, please feel free to let me know as I am still learning Japanese, so I have made many guesses on what is being said! *The setting for the first and second scenes basically seem to take place after the mission where they encountered Zabuza and Haku. The final scene is from a different game and seems to be a story arc for Kakashi of some sort. In between - where gameplay is shown from various games - the editor of the video used music from a duet by Inoue Kazuhiko and Seki Toshihiko. Enjoy! 💖

Scene 1   0:00 – 0:43

Iruka: Right, I guess that’s taken care of. How are Naruto and that lot? Is he getting along with his comrades?

Kakashi: Well, he’s getting there…  As you know Uchiha Sasuke is a member too, so there’s a great sense of rivalry but it keeps him on his toes. He’s growing rapidly in hopes of catching up to the one he respects most, you.

Iruka: Is that so?!

Scene 2  0:43-4:00

Naruto: Damn it… If only it was speed-eating ramen, I would definitely win! Huh? Iruka-sensei’s voice?

Iruka: -don’t you understand that this kind of thinking destroys a lot of talent before they’ve become fully qualified?

Kakashi: You think naïvely/optimistically, but you are living as a blind ninja. Ninja are constantly facing death.

Naruto: A-AH… Iruka-sensei and Kakashi-sensei are arguing. Why?!

Iruka: I heard about your mission in the Land of the Waves earlier. [referring to Zabuza and Haku mission]. Wasn’t that incredibly dangerous? If you knew it was more dangerous than a B rank mission, why didn’t you suspend it?

Kakashi: Perhaps you don’t understand as someone who is in the village everyday with the company of children - there are kids who are smaller than Naruto and stronger than me. So I concluded if they couldn’t defeat that level of an opponent there would be no future(?).

Iruka: But if it was an emergency…!

Kakashi: Ninja are even on missions to die. It’s pointless explaining this to you because you’re not on the battlefield.

Iruka: So just how many students’ dreams have you destroyed?

Kakashi: What?

Iruka: I heard from Sandaime. Amongst the students that you have been in charge of, Naruto’s group have been the first you’ve passed, right?

Kakashi: So what’s your point? From the moment they graduate from the academy, they are no longer your students. They’re my subordinates. I have the authority to give them any kind of evaluation.

Iruka: So you completely cut down the kids who don’t measure up to your standards? You do so suddenly without assessing their strengths and weaknesses.

Kakashi: I am just questioning the obvious things as a ninja. Why are there many children who can’t even answer these questions honestly? What on earth are the learning at the academy…?

Iruka: A-are you suggesting that my teaching is bad?

Kakashi: It is us human beings who are in the position to allow incompetent children to graduate and flaunt their deaths. I want you to think about that for a little!

Iruka: N-No matter how much of a jounin you are, there are things you should and shouldn’t say...

Kakashi: Hooo... so what?

Iruka: Even though you’re a jounin…I won’t forgive this!

Naruto: W-Wait a minute. Why are Iruka-sensei and Kakashi-sensei fighting?!

Iruka: Naruto… this is mine and Kakashi’s problem. Step back.

Kakashi: Naruto, after this I’ll show you real ninja battles.

 Last Scene 5:59

Iruka: Kakashi-sensei… so you were here?

Kakashi: [to the memorial] Forgive me…

Iruka: Kakashi-sensei…?

Kakashi: When I come here, I want it to become a warning forever of the fool that I was.

Iruka: My parents are resting here too… The will of fire… the will that protects this village is a strong one. The will of the heroes resting here will surely be passed down to our kids. Anyway, Naruto and the others are waiting for you.

   *First & second scene from Shinobi no Sato no Jintori Kassen; Last scene taken from Naruto: Ultimate Ninja; Song used Furigana Rubi from Warera Konsen Gasshoudan featuring the VAs of Kakashi and Iruka.

Translator’s thoughts: The Kakashi portrayed in the first game seems much harsher than I think he really is which makes this scene very dramatic and angsty imo!

-         translation by @tori-mamoru

[excaliefur]

How Anne got her Introduction

Hey y’all. I hope your good!

This idea came to me from a whim, I was listening to the Anne Boleyn introduction and it just came to me lol. I have a lot of angst coming so savour this strange fluff while you can.

Also a bit of context, at the time of this fic, they are working on the musical, it wasn’t fully written.

TW: I don’t think there’s anything, a bit of swearing maybe, let me know if I need to add something.

And sorry for the boring dares, I have no life and no friends to do stuff like this. Anyways, enjoy folks!

*THIS IS A REUPLOAD BECAUSE TUMBLR DECIDED TO HATE ME AND MY LAPTOP*

All the queens were working hard writing the musical, so naturally after a hard week, on the Friday evening, the only thing they wanted to do was get drunk and have fun. So thats what they did.

‘If i roll a 2, you have to call Starbucks and say you want a pizza.’ Catherine snickered, pointing at Jane. Jane looked affronted and nodded vigorously. ‘I’ll do it, I’ll do it, just watch.’ She said, offended.

‘Woah, calm down she hasn’t even rolled yet.’ Anna said, holding her back. Maybe everyone was a little drunk, scratch that, they were very drunk. First they played some harmless board games, then moved onto cards against humanity after Jane started to slur her words, and now they made up a game, just because they could. Anne had to stand on her head for a round, which she did, afterwards she proceeded to throw up and return to the game. Everyone was too drunk to say otherwise. Cathy had to chug 3 red-bulls, which was definitely not good, she was definitely gonna throw up soon. So maybe some of the dares were a bit extreme.

‘Awww man, I rolled a one.’ Catherine cried, she was a very emotional drunk. So if she felt sad normally, as a drunk she would be devastated. all her emotions were multiplied by a 100. Jane frowned. ‘I wanted Pizza!’ Anne yelled from her armchair. ‘Ok, moving on, Kat, its your turn!’ Cathy said, out of all of them, she was probably the most sober, which was saying something. She passed the die to Kat.

‘If I roll a six, Anna, you have to do push ups until it comes back to me!’ Kat shouted. Kat was a loud, horny drunk. Anna did not look like she was fit for push ups, but nodded nonetheless.

‘Seriously Kat?’ Anne groaned. ‘You’ve been focusing on Anna for the last four, or five, no it was two, turns.’ She continued, looking extremely confused as she tried to count on her fingers.

Kat shrugged, ‘I like seeing you do them Anna.’ she said, winking very clearly, everyone except Anna and Kat groaned. ‘Get a room!’ Jane said in disgust. Anna sighed and said ‘Fine, roll it then.’ Kat threw the dice across the room, right next to Catherine, who crept over and looked at it.

‘ahh, a five,’ She said, very sympathetically.

Anna smiled, glad she didn’t have to, but she looked over to Kat, who had a very exaggerated pout on her face. Anna hated seeing Kat upset, but was too drunk to notice that it was fake. ‘Don’t look so upset liebe, I’ll do it.’ She told her, before sighing and dropping down. Kat instantly looked happy and cheered ‘Yay!’. However, the others had noticed her fake expression.

‘Wow another manipulator huh?’ Catherine asked, cynically. That wasn’t really said well, and Anne slapped her hand. She looked up and noticed the not fake frown on Kats face, and the fear in her eyes. ‘Oh I didn’t mean it like that, I swear! I meant it like you and Anne are so alike!’ she rectified, Kat nodded and looked down. Catherine sighed, how could she have forgotten about Kat’s previous tormentors. ‘I’m sorry Kat.’ Kat nodded and gave a small grin, saying she accepted the apology. When everyone looked away however, Kat had a devilish grin on her face.

‘Lets move on then.’ Cathy sighed, she was getting bored. She caught the die from her god mother and passed it to Anne who slid onto the floor. Anne thought for a second, wondering what she wanted.

‘Ok, If I roll a 4 then Cathy you have to cuddle with me.’ Anne said impishly, Cathy groaned, Anne was such a hypocrite. A minute ago she was talking about lame dares and then she asked for this.

‘You could just ask for affection, you know?’ Cathy asked. She rolled her eyes and waited for a rebuttal.

‘Hush, let me roll.’ There it was. It was very late in the night and Cathy was starting to get energised from the red-bull. She stood up and started pacing. As she looked around from the room, she noticed that Anna was perspiring heavily, she felt sympathetic for her. Jane was curled up next to Catherine, looking tired.

‘A four!’ Anne cried out in joy. ‘Now get over here!’ she said with her arms open. Cathy rolled her eyes and climbed into Anne’s arms. She focused on listening to Annes heartbeat.

‘Anna, you can stop now, it was a stupid dare.’ Kat said, eyeing Anna nervously. Anna shook her head. ‘I never back down from a dare.’ she said between breaths.

‘It’s my turn right?’ Jane asked, before grabbing the die, and preparing to roll. Anna stopped doing push ups and grabbed a bottle of water. during her break she looked up. ‘Do something good this time!’ Anna huffed out, Anne nodded.

Jane looked upset, ‘Hey! Mine was good last time.’ Jane said.

‘Seriously? Knocking on the neighbours door and giving them a high five without speaking isn't that interesting.’  Anna sighed, then she dropped back to do more push ups

Kat grinned at Anna before speaking, ‘Ok, moving on, what do you suggest?’ she asked calmly, Jane pondered for a moment, and took a look around the room. Cathy was sweating badly, but neither Anne or Cathy seemed to notice. Anna was looking faint and seemed to struggle to stay balanced. Kat looked worried, but Anna was extremely stubborn. Jane, although drunk, still had her mother-senses dialed high. So she quickly thought, Anna was exhausted and needed to rest, while Cathy was energised and needed to let off steam before she overdosed.

‘If I roll a 1, Anna and Cathy have to switch dares.’ Jane said smugly, she was a genius. Anna looked relieved, Cathy looked confused but excited, she was so hyper it seemed animated. Kat looked relieved, Anne however pouted.

‘Ha! I rolled a one, both of you, move.’ Jane shouted, pointing at them. Anna stopped and collapsed onto the floor. Cathy and Kat moved to help her.

‘Can Cathy even do push ups?’ Anne asked, not meaning to sound mean, just Cathy was so short, and underweight. Nobody really expected her to be the second strongest queen.

‘Rude, I am very strong for your information.’ Cathy replied, while moving into plank position. Anne rolled her eyes. ‘Sure, twig arms, i dare you to do like 100- Woah.’ Anne said, before she stopped. Cathy, energised by the caffeine and wanting to prove Anne wrong, immediately did 20 push ups rapidly, without breaking a sweat. Everyone stared at shock, everyone except Anna, who smiled smugly. Cathy and Anna trained together all the time, they were both extremely fit.

‘Get on my back.’ Cathy said to Anne. Who looked confused ‘What. no I’ll break i-’ she was interrupted by Cathy, who shouted ‘GET ON MY BACK.’ Anne flinched and complied. ‘O- K?’ She said, still confused.

‘Woah!’ Anne was taken aback by the speed of the push ups Cathy did. Caffeine and Alcohol did surprising things to people.

‘OK! moving on. Anne it’s your turn.’ Catherine said suddenly, getting up from her chair rapidly and grabbing the die.

------------TIME SKIP BECAUSE I PROCRASTINATE------------

A few rounds had passed, it was nearing 1 am and everyone was still awake. Everyone was even more drunk, Cathy was banned from the coffee, Jane had to do the chicken dance to crab rave, Catherine had to stare at Anne for 2 rounds. Kat was trying to balance herself between Anna and Janes chairs, which were opposite each other. Anna had write a fan fiction about Henry Manox and Thomas Seymour both getting what they deserve, and she had to publish it. Anne was forced to throw her phone into the air and let it drop, only if the others were nice, they would catch it. Nobody caught it. Cathy stopped doing push ups and was now running up and down the stairs.

It was once again Anne’s turn.

‘Ok, if I roll a, 3, then you guys have to write a song about me.’ Anne muttered, slurring her words. Catherine chortled ‘Thats easy, i already have one I HATE ANNE BOL-’ she began. ‘No, Catherine,’ Jane commanded ‘Stop’ Cathy said before running back up ‘Don’t be mean pwease,’ Kat stage whispered ‘Did you just say pwease?’ Anna stage whispered back. Kat giggled. Frowning, Catherine sat back.

‘No, I mean for the musical! And it has to be good.’ Anne said after Catherine shut up. Cathy reappeared, also frowning. ‘But we already have Don’t Lose ur head?’ she asked.

‘Yeah! but it has to be like, like it’s hyping. me up!’ Anne said, throwing her hands up. ‘Like, OH HERE COMES ANnE BolEYn THe GreATEST tEmptReSS!’ She sang, very out of tune.

‘Yeah I’d make that for you when hell freezes over.’ Catherine muttered darkly. Anne sighed. ‘Ok, say if it doesn’t land on 3, then I have to do something instead.’ she suggested, that got them interested.

‘Go on,’ Anna said, sitting up. ‘Ok, so, um, if it lands on 4, you guys get to make me do a dare instead.’ Kat nodded, a devilish smirk appearing on her face. ‘BUT, if it does land on 3, you guys have to make a good song for me, ok?’ Anne said before anyone interrupted. Looking at each other, the queens nodded.

‘Ok, we’ll agree with that, but are you sure you want to do this? I mean the odds of it landing on 3 is low, and we won’t show any mercy once it lands on something else.’ Cathy said cautiously. Anne smirked, they were overconfident, that was their mistake. She nods and gets ready to roll.

She rolled it, it disappeared underneath a table and everyone held their breath as Kat went to check it. She popped out and sighed. ‘It was 3.’ Everyone groaned. Except for Anne who shot up. ‘YES!! YOU GUYS HAVE TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ME!’

Catherine shook her head desperately. She grabbed the die and rolled it, ‘It has to be tampered with, no, I can’t write a song about Anne.’ she hissed. It was a six, then it was a 4, then a 3, then a 1. It wasn’t tampered with.

Catherine dropped her head low.

‘Suck it Aragon!’ ‘Fuck off Boleyn!’

_______________________________________________________________________

let me know if you want to be added to my taglist.

Stay safe and wash your hands queens/kings/leaders

[lynnthevirgo]

Broken (Break Series) - Seokjin

WC: 1.7k

Summary: Seokjin didn’t want to believe you had left. How could he continue on without so much as a word from you?

Warnings: This might make you cry if you’re like me, so big, big, big, angst warning.

A/N:  This is a reupload. I had this under a different pen name, under a different account. If you found it then, yes, I will be continuing it on this account. This made me big sad to write, please someone request a part 2 TT-TT

Tags: @dreamescapeswriting​

************************************

He sat in your quiet apartment, wondering when everything had started falling apart around him and he never noticed. It was unfair that he was left here surrounded by all your things, all the memories you’d made in the small, quaint apartment you’d shared. Why was he forced to be reminded that you were no longer here? How could you just walk out on him like this? 

Seokjin remembered coming with you to pick this place out. The way your hair looked wrapped up in the pink ribbon you only wore when you felt cute. Or how the curtains were drawn up on the large windows to let in the sunlight, making the small apartment feel open, warm and bright. You’d been bouncing around from room to room, just like a little kid, seeing everything brand new. He knew the minute you stepped inside that you had fallen in love with it.

He gets up from the battered armchair that came from your family home and heads to the alcohol cabinet. Almost as if on auto pilot he grabs two glasses and fills them both with ice before realizing his mistake. It takes him everything to swallow down the emotion building inside his throat. Slowly he drops the ice cubes from the second glass back into the small cooler and wipes the glass clean before placing it back in the cabinet. Grabbing the whiskey, he brings it with him to the kitchen island and pours a glass while he stands searching the rooms surrounding him for traces of you.

“My heart is drenched in wine, but you will be on my mind forever.” Your favorite song plays in the background on his phone. Stealing the last of his battery after hours of rereading the same messages over and over again from you. Wondering if what you said was true, how would he learn to get along like he used to? How could he when everywhere he looked was something to remind him of you.

“But I’ll be a bag of bones driving down the road alone.” The singer croons beside him as he drinks his whiskey on the rocks. The liquor burning his throat on the way down, a way to remind him that he is here, this is happening to him. He wonders if you’re alone as she sings, or if you’re with your sister. She’s the only one you let see you this vulnerable, aside from your best friend and him. 

He watches the memories of you in the living room move around in flashes and for a moment it’s like you’re really with him. You sit in front of the window seat with a book, the spine falling apart and frayed at the tips from years of you rereading it. The sunlight being the only light in the room and it hitting your face just right, making your usual neutral brown eyes brighten like honey gold. Your hair is up and out of your face, so nothing can disturb you from the world playing out in front of you on the yellowed pages.

Then you’re getting up, your outfit changing from bedtime sweats and an old t-shirt to a pair of jeans that hug your hips and legs with a crop top. Seokjin laughs to himself as he remembers you dancing wildly in the living room, pushing the chairs and furniture aside as you wave a colorful stick around to the beat of the song playing. Your hair falls out of the bun you put it in and you leave it fall round your shoulders, tendrils of your locks curling within each other in a haphazard mess. He laughs louder, the sight of you belting a song in his first language with all the wrong pronunciations and making up words as you go too much for him to hold it in.

He didn’t realize he had drank half the bottle until he stopped laughing long enough to really focus on pouring his glass again. The ice had melted long ago, he had been drinking it straight and it was getting harder to ignore the lump in his throat. He realized he was drinking to get it to go away and all it seemed to do was fuel the memories of you and increase it‘s size. Seokjin had been finding you deeper and deeper in the bottom of this bottle and it was killing him how alone it made him feel that you weren’t here.

Seokjin stares at the memory of you sitting in the armchair he was sitting in hours ago. 

“Why, y/n? Knowing how hard it is for me to be alone and you leave me here….why?” He asks you, his voice soft and on the verge of breaking. The emotions and his vision clouding his better judgment for what he’s doing.

“I love you so much, so much it hurts, Jagiya… You were everything and still are. ” Seokjin drops to the floor on his knees, his voice broken along with his pride.

“Every morning I‘d wake to find you in my arms, my own form of sunlight, warm and bright to help the day start off right.” He maintains eye contact with you as he crawls to the armchair slowly, swallowing more emotion as the tears start forming.

“Everything you touched you made better, my coffee, my whiskey, our shared closet and my entire life.” The tears are falling now, but he won’t let them blur the only image he has left of you.

“You were so, so pure and strong…everything I needed you to be when nothing seemed to be falling into place for me last summer.” Seokjin pulls himself back up to sit on his heels when he finds himself in front of you. The memory of you staring down at him with warm, sympathetic eyes and the calmest, happiest look on your face. 

He lowers himself down to bow in front of you and everything he’d been holding in until now breaks inside of him, like his heart did when you called him at work to tell him you were leaving. That when he came home he’d find an empty apartment and that it would be like you were never there. His heart had fallen to his stomach by then, but nothing he could’ve told you would’ve changed your mind. He knew that by the tone you were using, and the suitcase clicks in the background signified you were actually packing. You never waited for him to say anything, just said what you had to say and then hung up.

“Tell me why!! Tell me why I wasn‘t enough for what you needed! WHY COULDN‘T YOU TELL ME ANYTHING?!” He screams into the floor, his sobs ebbing through him with every breath he takes. 

“I‘m sorry, so sorry that I wasn‘t what you thought I‘d be. Is that what you want to hear? Is that what you wanted to hear me say when you called, y/n?” Seokjin asks the floor in between broken cries of the hurt he feels inside his chest. 

Why does this hurt so much? Is that what they meant when they said you fall in love? Because that’s what it felt like, he was falling and falling with no landing place to catch him. For the first time he understood what they meant when they said 

‘You know it’s real when after it’s over, all you can feel is the hole of the space they used to hold.’ that’s the only reason why he knows you’re real. Why any of this happiness he had was ever real. Now that it’s gone, everything inside him feels hollow and cold, because it no longer holds the warmth and fullness you used to bring him.

He was so mad when he came home and now all he wants is your arms around him, fingers in his hair and your smile to make this hurt go away. Why couldn’t you be there to do that for him? How could something as perfect as what you two had disappear so fast without so much as a blink from him? Seokjin wanted to lay you down on the bed you two shared and kiss every inch of your skin, to remind himself of the way your salty skin tastes. To feel every line your body made, to drown himself in the scent of what had been the only thing he’d known for three years.

But you were gone. You had made it clear that you were leaving and you weren’t sure how long it would be when you came back. It had been made obvious there was a possibility that you might never come back and that felt horrible bouncing around his head. His life without you in it was too much pain for him to deal with. 

He chokes back another loud sob and whimpers instead at the hand pulling his heart in every direction known to man. With a handful of sniffles, he grunts and collects himself up off the floor and stares down at the memory of you. 

“Tell me why.” He orders, his stance firm and fists clenched so tight he could’ve been breaking skin.

“Why did you leave me?” He asks again, not really expecting an answer but getting one.

When you stand to face him, he almost melts within the scent surrounding you. His lip quivers with the emotion coming right back to torment him again over the ache you left behind.

“I‘m sorry” You tell him, your hand touching his chest so lightly he can’t feel a thing. Your words reaching his ears in a soft but calm whisper.

“You deserve so much better than I can give you.” You continue, this time your words making him sob because that’s what he just said to you moments ago.

“I hope you can be happier without me, but I will always love you like you���ve taught me to love myself all these years. Please take care of yourself for me, Jinnie, I don‘t want to worry about you. It‘ll hurt enough to think of the memory of you.” Is the last thing you say before you fade away from him and he falls to the floor again.

Except this time he’s holding the phone that was in the kitchen. On the screen is the last messages you sent him and he’s crying like a small child who’s lost his childhood pet. His sense of security and companionship gone, your presence disappearing around him. This was not his home, this was not his life, he didn’t want any of it if he had to go through it without you.

[selfignitingimagines]

Stiles- Obsessed

A/N: Okay, I attempted to edit the original and accidentally deleted it *facepalm* so here is the reuploaded version of Obsessed! Let me know if you guys want a part two (with less mistakes). 

“You really think the mountain ash will work?” Stiles asked, reaching forward to cut off the radio.

“Hey,” you complained from the backseat of the Jeep. “I like that song.”

Scott shot you a look from where he sat in the passenger seat. “You’re the one who wanted to be a part of this.”

You narrowed your eyes at your older brother. It had only been a few months since you found out Scott was a werewolf, but you were picking things up fairly quickly. Scott had never intended for you to know the truth and he wasn’t thrilled that you had gotten involved.

“And how exactly were you supposed to explain away the fact that Stiles was chaining you to the radiator?”

Stiles glanced over at Scott. “She’s got a point. I’m a good liar, but I’m not sure I’m that good.”

“You know, the werewolves actually make sense,” you commented. “But a murderous lizard person? I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“Neither would I,” Stiles agreed. “Which brings me back to the thought that maybe the magic fairy dust can’t trap it.”

“Deaton did say you have to believe, Stiles,” you pointed out. 

“And,” Scott added. “We don’t have many options right now. Everyone is going to be at the Underground Show and that’s our best chance to catch whoever’s controlling Jackson.”

Stiles let out a discontented sigh. “I just...I don’t get why it has to be me.”

“You’re the only other human besides Y/n. And you know we can’t ask Allison.”

He snorted. “Like I’m not reminded of that every day of my life.”

“I can try to sneak off and come help you,” you suggested. 

Stiles shot you a longing glance over his shoulder, but Scott shook his head. “You’re supposed to be keeping Matt distracted. He’s been asking too many questions and he’s way too involved now.”

“It’s actually kinda perfect that he’s asking you out,” your brother continued. 

“If that’s how you define perfect,” Stiles said. There was an uneasy edge to his voice. “I still don’t trust him.”

“You don’t have to,” you told him with a shrug. “I’ll distract him, drop him off at the end of the night, and hopefully this will all blow over once we find whoever’s controlling Jackson.”

“See?” Scott asked. “You’ll both be fine.”

Stiles bit the inside of his cheek as he drove toward the high school. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and took a breath. 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “We’ll be fine. Even if we don’t make it into the show, which is still a big problem, since we don’t actually have tickets.”

He glanced back at you in the rearview mirror, and you flashed him a small smile as the Jeep pulled into the school parking lot. He immediately looked away, and desperately hoped that you hadn’t seen him blushing. 

Stiles had been friends with your brother since they were eight years old and you had spent the majority of their friendship running along after them. While Scott incessantly complained about you needing to find your own best friend, Stiles never did. The minute you entered high school, a year after they did, the three of you became inseparable.

Lately though, things had been different between you and Stiles. While Scott was off sneaking around with Allison, the two of you were often on your own. Maybe you didn’t know what it meant yet, but you and Stiles had grown closer.

He glanced back at you in the rearview mirror, and you flashed him a small smile as the Jeep pulled into the school parking lot. Stiles killed the engine and hopped out, holding the door open for you as you crawled out of the backseat. As you tossed your bag over your shoulder, you noticed that Matt was standing on the sidewalk nearby. 

“Oh great,” Stiles muttered under his breath. 

“There’s gotta be some other way to get tickets, right?” Scott asked as he shut the passenger door. 

Stiles rolled his eyes. “It’s a secret show. There’s only one way, and it’s a secret.”

You smirked, and Scott rolled his eyes at the two of you. Before you could bite out a sarcastic comment, Matt called out to you.

“Hey,” he said, jogging up to the three of you. “Any of you guys know why no one got suspended after what happened the other day at school?”

“Just forget about it,” Stiles said, waving him off. “No one got hurt.”

Matt tilted his head. You could tell he was annoyed. “I had a concussion”

“Well, nobody got seriously hurt.”

“I was in the E.R. for six hours,” Matt told him. 

Stiles huffed. “Hey, do you wanna know the truth Matt? Your little bump on the head is about this high-” Stiles crouched down and held his hand inches from the sidewalk. “-on our list of problems right now.”

Scott placed a hand on his shoulder, and you stepped forward. “Are you okay?”

Matt smiled at you, brushing off Stiles’ without a second glance. “Yeah, I’m fine now.” He looked over at Scott. “So you didn’t get tickets last night either.”

“Are they still selling?” Scott asked hopefully.

“Uh, no, but I managed to find two online.” Matt shot you a wink, and you blushed. “You should keep trying. Sounds like everyone’s going to be there. I’ll see you tonight, right, Y/n?”

You smiled. “Yeah. I’ll pick you up at eight?”

He nodded. “Sounds good. See you later.”

Stiles watched Matt saunter away, looking pleased with himself. He shook his head and then glanced toward you. “I don’t like him. Are you sure about this, Scott?”

Your older brother pursed his lips. “Last time, whoever’s controlling Jackson had to kill someone because he didn’t finish the job. What do you think he’s going to do this time?”

Stiles sighed, and looked ruefully between the two of you. “Be there to make sure it happens.”

-----

“Do you want to move closer to the DJ?” Matt asked you.

He was gripping your hand tightly, almost as if he was afraid you were going to slip away. That might have been a valid fear, considering the place was crowded with sweaty, glowing bodies, and you couldn’t go three inches without brushing up against one. 

Your phone had been going off in the pocket of your jean skirt since you got to the rave, and you could feel it buzz against your thigh. Matt saw you glance down at it, peeking out of your pocket, and he tilted his head. 

“Should I be jealous?” he asked jokingly.

You let out a nervous laugh. “Of course not.”

“Check it,” he told you. “I don’t mind.”

He was watching you carefully, and for a few seconds you noticed his light attitude had disappeared. There was something in his deep blue eyes that you couldn’t decipher. You cautiously reached for your phone. 

“It’s just Stiles,” you said, tucking it back into your pocket. 

You didn’t exactly want to read the message in front of Matt, but you caught a few alarming words flashing across the screen before you locked it again. Stiles had definitely been asking for help. 

“What’s up with the two of you anyway?” Matt asked. 

He was trying to be casual, but you knew he was asking a loaded question. Between trying to answer and forming a plan to sneak away and help Stiles, your mind was spinning. 

“He’s my brother’s best friend,” you told him with a shrug. “He’s been around since I was little. I guess I’ve just gotten used to him being my friend too.”

“You sure there’s not anything between you guys?”

“Oh god no,” you swore. “I’m his best friend’s little sister. There’s no way he’d...no way.”

A part of you had always wondered about Stiles. He was hilarious, incredibly smart, and you knew he would do anything for you, but you were pretty sure that came with the territory of being Scott’s best friend. Stiles was practically family. Of course you would be special to him too.

Despite occasional  fantasies of what could happen between the two of you, that was a topic you had forbidden yourself to think about. 

“So there’s no one else I have to worry about?” Matt asked softly. 

“Hm?” You had been lost in your own thoughts until Matt’s voice had shaken you out of them. “Oh, no. Of course not.”

Apparently, Matt took that as an invitation to make a move. His hand was suddenly on your waist, and he leaned in to press his lips fiercely against yours. 

You had kissed one boy before, during a game of spin the bottle at a party in seventh grade. It had been wet and uncomfortable, and you were pretty sure Garrett Meyer’s tongue was not supposed to be in your mouth.  This was nothing like that, yet something about it still felt wrong. 

Matt’s lips were soft and forceful, but not rough.  He obviously knew what he was doing, but for some reason your stomach turned at the feeling of the kiss. 

You placed your hands on his shoulders and pushed him away. He looked genuinely hurt as you apologized profusely and mumbled something about needing to use the bathroom. You left him there, standing on the edge of the crowd as you disappeared into the throng of dancers. 

-----

Stiles was panicking by the time you rushed out of the warehouse. Relief washed over him in waves as he saw you step outside.

“What happened?” you demanded. “I thought Deaton gave you two bags.”

“He did!” Stiles cried, holding up the handful of mountain ash. “This is all I have left.”

You swore softly, glancing at the ground surrounding the building. On the concrete were two lines of ash wrapping around the warehouse, separated by about forty feet. 

“Did you call Scott?” you asked, panic creeping into your voice.

“Three times,” he told you. “He didn’t pick up.”

You sighed. “Okay...okay, look. Deaton said you have to believe, right? So just believe you have more mountain ash.”

“Are you kidding me? That’s the plan?!”

“It was the plan to begin with,” you pointed out.

“To run out of mountain ash?”

“No, to believe you could do it,” you reminded him. “If you’re giving it the spark of power like Deaton said, then maybe you’re powerful enough to make it work.”

“So, what happens when we run out? Wing it?”

“Stiles, all you do is wing it! You’re seriously telling me you can’t just close your eyes and hope for once?”

He took a breath. “Okay, fine. We’ll wing it.”

He held his empty hand out for you to take and you raised your eyebrows. Stiles swallowed audibly. “Please.”

You grabbed his hand, casting a worried glance toward the line of mountain ash. He squeezed your hand, and you closed your eyes as he walked forward, letting the ash slip through his fingers. 

Then he stopped. “Y/n, look.”

When you opened your eyes, Stiles was looking incredulously at the pavement. The two lines of mountain ash were now connected, completing the barrier that would trap the kanima and its master inside the warehouse.

You and Stiles looked at each other and erupted into joyful shrieks. Elated, he wrapped his arms around your waist and spun you in a circle, nearly tripping into a nearby car. 

“I did it!” he cried. “Oh my god I did something!”

You laughed as he placed you on top of the trunk of the car, only to have it’s alarm blare out across the warehouse parking lot. He yelped and pulled you down, but his face was still flush with excitement. 

“You were right,” he breathed. “I’m gonna have to listen to you more often.”

“That was amazing,” you whispered.

Stiles’ cheeks were warm with pride, and as he gazed down at you, it occurred to him that you might have as much admiration for him as he did for you. His hands were still resting on your hips, and before he could talk himself out of it, he pulled you closer and kissed you. 

For a split second you were frozen in shock, but then you quickly melted into the kiss. Your life had changed so much in the past few months. It was like your entire world was turning upside down, uprooting you and everything you thought you knew. Maybe it made sense that your relationship with Stiles would be shifting too. 

When you parted, you stared at each other silently, not quite sure what to say. Then several things happened at once. 

A distant popping filled the air, and you recognized the sound of gunshots almost immediately. The funny thing about constantly dodging werewolf hunters was that you had learned how to recognize the sound of their bullets. At the same time, your phone also began to chime relentlessly. 

When you checked it, you found that it was Matt, apologizing profusely and asking where you were. Stiles swallowed as you looked down at your phone. “You should probably go find him.”

“Yeah,” you said. “But I don’t really want to.”

Stiles smiled softly. “I don’t want you to...but the hunters are close. You need to find Matt and stay out of trouble.”

“Matt isn’t trouble?” you wondered. 

Stiles grimaced. “I don’t trust the guy. You know that.”

“I do,” you agreed. “But I can take care of myself, Stiles.”

“I know. But if you need anything call me, okay?”

“Okay.”

You smiled and turned away, heading back into the warehouse. Stiles watched you go as dread churned his stomach. Everything inside him was screaming for him to call out to you, to pull you back and wrap you up in his arms, just to keep you safe. With everything going on, he knew that was a fantasy. No one was safe in Beacon Hills. Not anymore.

-----

It took you about thirty five minutes to find Matt. He wasn’t where you had left him, but you eventually spotted him leaning against the wall in a tucked-away corner of the building. 

“Hey, sorry,” you breathed. “I just...I needed some air.”

“I get it,” he told you, smiling. “I’m just glad you found your way back. I think they’re wrapping it u-”

He was interrupted by the noise of a disgruntled crowd.. The music had stopped thumping suddenly, and the warehouse was filled with grumbling teens and twenty-somethings, wondering why the party had stalled. 

“Looks like the party’s over,” he commented, reaching for your hand. “Let’s go.”

You swallowed nervously as you watched the crowd filter through the various doors of the warehouse. If Scott’s plan succeeded, Jackson and the person controlling him should be trapped inside the building.

 As you headed out though, you glimpsed Jackson walking out the door farther up in the crowd. You held your breath until you crossed through the door, but Jackson was nowhere to be found. He had crossed the mountain ash barrier. 

You felt your heart sink as you realized the plan hadn’t worked. You wondered what happened, and briefly panicked at the thought that something might have happened to Stiles. 

You and Matt stumbled out of the building and toward you car. You wanted to reach for your phone and call Stiles, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to sneak away from Matt again. If you even texted him, he might get suspicious, and the whole point of you going out with him was to stop him from asking too many questions. 

As he tugged you toward the parking lot, you couldn’t help but feel a sinking in your chest. Somehow you just knew there had been another murder. You knew the entire plan had failed.

-----

“Do you ever feel like no matter what you do, you just can’t win?” you wondered, as you turned down Matt’s street. 

You had been quiet for almost the entire ride, and relief flashed across his face when you finally spoke. 

“No,” he said smoothly. “Unlike the rest of humanity, I’m perfect.”

That made you smile. “Thanks. I guess things have just been really crazy lately. It’s been stressing me out.”

Matt looked down at his feet when you pulled to a stop in front of his house. “Yeah, and that...incredibly bad idea probably didn’t help things either.”

He looked like he was about to burn up with embarrassment when he talked about the kiss. 

“Don’t even worry about it.”

“For real?” he asked. 

“Definitely.”

“So,” he asked carefully. “What’s going on with you and Stiles? I know you went to look for him at the show, but are you guys...together?”

You started to say no, but then thought better of it. The moment you had shared with Stiles in the parking lot had given you a lot to think about. 

“Not really,” you told Matt.

“Not really,” he repeated. “God, I hate ‘not really’. You never know what to do with ‘not really’.”

You pressed your lips together at his bitter tone.  “Would you understand if I said it was complicated?”

Matt raised his eyebrows.“Not really.”

You laughed, and he smiled gently at you. “But I can try.”

With one last smile, he opened the door and waved you goodbye. You sat there on the curb for a few seconds, watching him disappear inside his darkened house. When you went to shift the car into drive, you realized Matt’s backpack was still on the floor of your car. 

You reached over and grabbed the strap, only to pull on his camera by mistake. It was still on, and you figured he had probably been taking pictures at the rave and just forgotten to turn it off in all the chaos.

Purely out of curiosity, you tapped the bottom to scroll through his photos. Matt had talked about his photography, but he had never really mentioned how good he was. 

You smiled when a picture of you flashed across the screen. It was a candid of you, smiling in the stands as you cheered for Scott during one of his lacrosse games. The next picture was of you laughing, and you remembered that Stiles had been making faces at you from where he was benched on the sidelines. 

As you scanned the photos, you realized that they were more of you than anything else. Your fascination quickly turned to horror as you saw that Matt had pictures of you walking down the hall, studying in the library, and even sitting in front of your bedroom window. 

You were just starting to wonder how long he had been watching you when you were startled by tapping at the window. You quickly powered off the camera and looked up. 

Matt was standing next to the car, illuminated eerily by the streetlights outside. He had a smile on his face, but it was wry and twisted. He pulled once on the handle of the passenger side door, and you were suddenly grateful you had locked the car after he got out.

“Open the door,” he mouthed.

You took a deep breath, hoping your expression didn’t betray your fear. You didn’t open the door, but you did roll the window down about halfway.

“Forgot my bag,” Matt told you, gesturing to the backpack on the floor. 

You nodded. “Yeah, yeah.”

Your voice came out shaky and uneven, and you were completely still as he reached in, pulling out his bag and the camera. “Some good pictures in there, don’t you think?”

“Oh, yeah,” you agreed enthusiastically. “The lacrosse ones are amazing. You’re really talented. I was-I was really impressed.”

Realizing you were rambling, you quickly pressed your lips together. Matt smiled evenly at you. “There’s a good candid of you in there too.”

“Really?” 

“You can see some of the others if you’d like,” Matt offered. “I mean, this tiny little screen doesn’t really do it justice, but, uh, I could show you some on my computer.”

“Oh,” you breathed. “I would totally like that, but...maybe another night.”

“Just for a few minutes?” he pressed.

“It’s getting kind of late,” you told him. “Scott’s probably expecting me home.”

“It’s the weekend.”

“I-I know,” you stammered. “But-”

“And it’s spring break. I mean, you don’t have anything going on tomorrow, do you? I’m sure your brother wouldn’t mind.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest. With the way Matt was watching you, you could have sworn he could hear it. “I should really get going.”

Matt’s lips twitched. “You sure?”

“I’m sure,” you said hoarsely. 

“Okay,” he said softly, backing away from the car.

He eyed you carefully, but you didn’t look back at him. You peeled away from the curb, terrified to see him still behind you, watching.

When you got home and trudged up the steps, Scott poked his head out of his bedroom door. “Hey. You dropped Matt off?”

You nodded wordlessly. That was when Stiles’ head appeared next to Scott’s. They were both in pajamas, ready to pass out after the exhausting night. It was past one am, but you knew they had waited up to make sure you got home safe. 

“Yeah,” you whispered hoarsely. “Just tired.”

“Are you sure?” Scott asked with a frown. “Do you wanna talk about what happened tonight? I know it was intense.”

“Scott,” you snapped. “I just want to sleep. I’m not a little kid anymore.”

Your brother recoiled in shock, and you instantly felt ashamed. Stiles was looking at you in concern, but you didn’t meet his eyes as you headed down the hall. The tension of the kiss from earlier was burning in the air, but after what had happened with Matt, you weren’t in a place to deal with it.

You shoved open the door of you room, stripped off your sweaty clothes, and immediately jumped in the shower. Even as the hot water streamed down your skin, you could feel the tears dripping down your face. 

Some of the pictures Matt had taken were from weeks ago. You didn’t remember all of the moments he had captured, but one of them was definitely from the night Allison and Lydia had taken you shopping for the upcoming spring dance.

 You had opted for a more casual dress with a bright floral pattern that you were absolutely in love with. Lydia, however, insisted you get something more formal, so you chose another one. She bought you the floral as a gift. 

You were so excited that you wore it home from the shopping trip, and judging by the photos you had seen on Matt’s camera, he had been watching you that night as you walked inside. You would never wear that dress again without thinking of him capturing the moment and twisting it in his own perverted way. 

Your phone had been buzzing non-stop for the past thirty minutes, so you finally decided to step out of the shower. Nausea bloomed in your stomach, and you wondered if Matt was trying to reach out to you. 

As you walked out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, you realized Stiles was the one who had been blowing up your phone.

“Oh shit!”

You jumped when you saw him sitting on the edge of your bed, covering his eyes. His cheeks were a bright red, and he was stammering. 

“Oh god, uh, I’m so sorry. I’ll just-”

He tried to get up while his eyes were covered and ended up tripping over your basket of clean laundry. He fell with a thump, and you snorted. 

“Stiles,” you told him softly. “It’s fine. It’s not like you saw me naked.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, scrambling to his feet. “I was just worried. I thought that maybe you’d want to talk or something, but…”

You grimaced. “No I...I want to talk. Just let me change.”

He nodded and sat back down on your bed, watching as you hastily yanked some pajamas out of your dresser. You disappeared into your bathroom, and a minute or so later, you came back out fully dressed. 

You sat beside him on your rumpled comforter, wondering where to start. Eventually, you and Stiles spoke at the same time. 

“So about the kiss-”

“Something happened with Matt-”

He paused, looking at you with concern. “You mean back at the rave? What happened?”

You shook your head. “No. It was when I took him home. He left his bag in my car on accident. I went to pull on the strap, but I grabbed his camera by mistake. It was on, so I just looked at the pictures, and...and he had pictures of me.”

“Pictures? What kind of pictures?”

“Some of them were normal,” you told him. “I saw some of me at the last game, and I know he has to take pictures of the crowd for the yearbook. But then there were others. Like pictures of me at my locker, or...or in my window.”

Stiles jaw dropped. “Your bedroom window?”

You dropped your eyes to the floor and nodded. 

Stiles jumped to his feet. “We need to tell Scott right now.”

“No,” you said quickly, reaching up to grab his hand. “Stiles we can’t. He already has so much to worry about with the kanima and Allison’s grandfather.”

“Then we have to at least go the cops. Y/n, that’s stalking. Matt’s been stalking you.”

You took a deep breath and tried to fight the tears forming in your eyes. “What if no one believes me?”

Stiles placed his hands on your shoulders. They were warm and steady, and even though tears were slipping down your face, his stability gave you hope. “I believe you. And everyone at the station will too. Besides, he’s got the proof on his camera.”

You swallowed. “So do we talk to your dad?”

Stiles scratched the back of neck. “Actually, uh, they just put him on a leave of absence.”

“Like they fired him?” you asked incredulously.

“Basically, yeah,” he said softly. “And it’s pretty much my fault.”

“Why would you say that?” you asked him. 

“Well, believe it or not, the son of the Sheriff stealing a police van and kidnapping someone didn’t look too good to the town. ”

You grimaced as his shoulders slumped in shame. You reached out to gently touch his shoulder. “Stiles, I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. We’ve gotta stop the murders first. Then we can figure out how to get my dad’s job back.”

“You’re still allowed to be upset,” you reminded him. “Stiles, nothing about this is easy.”

“You are.”

You blinked at him. “Wait, what? I’m easy?”

 “Woah, no, that came out wrong. I mean, this with you.” He gestured between the two of you. “This is easy.”

“Talking?” you asked.

“Everything,” he admitted. “I know you’ve kinda been stuck with me lately since Scott’s been preoccupied. But when it’s just me and you...I don’t really mind it.”

You smiled at him. “I don’t either.”

“And I was thinking maybe...maybe if you wanted to…”

Stiles took a deep breath. His cheeks were flushed and all of his confidence from earlier seemed to have disappeared. “I totally suck at this.”

“It’s okay,” you told him with a laugh. “I think I know what you’re asking. And the answer is-”

Knock! Knock! Knock! You and Stiles both froze at the sound of a knock on your door. 

“Y/n?” Scott was calling softly. “You awake?”

“Uh, hold on, I’m naked!” you yelled.

With wide eyes, you quickly yanked Stiles up from the bed and shoved him into the bathroom. For good measure, you gestured toward the shower. Stiles obliged, and you quickly flipped the light off and shut the door. 

You took your discarded towel and wrapped it around your hair, twisting it up. Then you opened the door for Scott. 

“Hey,” he said, peering around the room. “Is Stiles in here?”

“He’s not with you?” you asked. 

“No. I woke up and he wasn’t in my room. I  thought I heard voices in here so I came to check. He’s probably just getting a glass of water or something.”

“Oh,” you said casually. “I was on the phone with Lydia. She’s just nervous about everything going on, so I was trying to distract her with girl talk.”

“Girl talk?” Scott asked.

“Mmhm. You know, dresses, nail polish...waxing.”

Your brother grimaced at the thought. “Okay, I get it. I was just making sure you were okay. You seemed upset earlier.”

“I was,” you admitted. “You were right. Everything at the rave, the last murder...it was getting to me.”

Scott nodded. “I know this is hard. It’s why I didn’t want to get you involved.”

You rolled your eyes slightly. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

“But hey,” he said, reaching out to put his hand on your shoulder. “I’m glad you know now. I’m glad you have my back.”

You pressed your lips together and stared up at him skeptically. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he agreed. He reached out to pull you into a tight hug. “I love you. You know that right? And everything I do, I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

“I know. And as annoying as you are, I love you too,” you mumbled into his shoulder.

He rolled his eyes and pushed you away. “Go to bed.”

You watched Scott as he walked down the hall and turned back into his room. Then you quickly shut your own door and locked it. 

When you yanked open the shower curtain to let Stiles out, he jumped. 

“What?” you asked quizzically. 

“I thought you might have been Scott,” he admitted, stepping out of the shower. “I couldn’t hear you guys from here.”

“You should probably leave before he gets suspicious,” you told him.

He looked down at the floor. “Yeah, you’re right...hey, uh, were you going to Lydia’s party tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you told him. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

“I’ll see you there, then.” He reached out to grab your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “We’ll figure everything out. Matt’s not going to hurt you.”

You nodded, and squeezed back once, knowing full well that his words from earlier were hanging in the air. Now it seemed that the moment had passed, and Scott was awake down the hall, looking for Stiles. 

“Goodnight, Stiles,” you whispered. 

“Goodnight.”

He smiled softly at you before silently slipping out of your room and down the hall. You closed your door as quietly as you could, walked over to flick off your light, and crawled into bed. 

Despite the chaos of that night, sleep found you easily, and you slipped into unconsciousness, not thinking of Matt, but of Stiles. 

[saihahas]

The sheer brilliance of the Pikmin shorts

And how their success shows that a cartoon with no dialog can excel in quality.

This is going to be seperated into three portions, for each short! Short 1 will be titled in RED. Short 2 will be titled in BLUE. Short 3 will be titled in PURPLE.

SHORT 1

Short one, The Night Juicer, is my least favorite out of the three. Granted, I still really enjoy the short! But it's not memorable in comparison to the other two. It's the shortest, and plays off of what Pikmin are named after! For those not aware of Pikmin lore or the games, Pikmin were named based off of Pikpik Carrots, which are very popular on Capitan Olimar's home planet, Hocotate.

This short begins with a very cute title sequence, showing Pikmin just doing Pikmin things! Which the series is exceptional at.

The first short starts with a Red, Blue and Yellow Pikmin watching Olimar make himself an unassuming red smoothie.

A lil squeaky sound effect is made when Oli puts his hands on his hips, thats all.

ANYWAYS-

The Primary Pikmin trio all run up to Olimar as he finishes up his cup, but stop after glancing over to the side of the blender, seeing a cut up Pikpik carrot they mistake for a Red Pikmin.

This sends the trio into a frenzy, freaking out and running away from Olimar.

Oh and this

Consider my timbers, shivered. Olimar creepily walks towards them, as if it was a horror movie. The trio fantasize what will become of them once Olimar catches them, while trying to get as far away from him as possible.

Olimar corners them in the storage closet, and the trio fear the worst. Only for Olimar to daintily push them to the side, and pick up two pikpik carrots for another smoothie.

All in all, this short isn't bad! It's cute and simple, a jokey horror trope. It simply suffers the fate most pilot episodes do. The other two are much less Olimar centered, and shine as a result.

SHORT 2

Short 2, Treasure in a Bottle, is my second favorite of the trio, but it definitely is close to overtaking short 3. This series is devoid of Olimar entirely, focused on Pikmin interacting with eachother. (And our protag, a Red Pikmin's desire for the shiny)

Short 2 starts out with a Red Pikmin, lets call him Steve, in a field chasing a butterfly. He gets distracted by a bottle, and proceeds to stare at his reflection in the glass.

The ramune is giant in comparison to Steve, and then he notices the shine of the marble inside. He screams in excitement, before scaling multiple objects to reach the top of the ramune bottle. (After falling off a grass blade gently)

Steve marvels at the marble, and hops into the bottle. He notices the long way down from where the marble lies and shudders, determined to roll the marble out. He attempts several times to do so, and on his last attempt, the marble gets stuck. After a few seconds, the marble falls and steve lands at the bottom of the bottle, and can't get out. While stuck, a trio of a single red, blue and yellow Pikmin come across Steve!

After laughing about how silly he looks inside the bottle, the trio tries to come up with a plan to break Steve out. Blue suggests filling the bottle with water, so Steve floats to the top and can be pulled off. Steve quickly shuts the idea down, as all Pikmin aside from blue Pikmin can't swim. Yellow has a much more direct approach, grabbing a bomb rock and allowing it to detonate, launching the bottle into the air. Steve flies out of the bottle, but as the bottle lands on the ground, Steve falls back into the bottle.

The three watch a trio of blue pikmin latched to eachother trying to pull down a butterfly, before a purple adds too much weight and the butterfly gets away. The trio has an idea, and like that Steve is saved!!!!

But not without taking the ramune with him ;)

SHORT 3

The final and longest Pikmin short, Occupational Hazard, is easily the best of the three in my opinion. It has Olimar present, but he isn't the focus of the short, the pikmin doing their thing are!

The short starts off showing some Pikmin taking apart pieces of a large machine, carrying bits ans pieces along, with come cute slapstick type comedy throughout. The camera pans out, showing how small the pikmin are compared to PNF-404 (Earth)

A quick pan later, and Olimar appears! He's using his whistle to direct Pikmin on where to go, much like in the games. The Pikmin are catapulting eachother, two go down, one comes up. They all carry the bits of metal to the Reasearch Pod, which assesses value. The Pod takes a brief leave, panning over Olimar and the Pikmin.

What a great shot

A yellow pikmin gets catapulted, offering a bent nail, which Olimar declines. The pikmin tosses the nail over the edge, hitting a white pikmin on the head. (Which they are VERY angry about) Two blue attempt to pull up a purple Pikmin, which was definitely unsuccessful, followed by a very angry white Pikmin yelling and taking his spot, only to be flung into the stratosphere after two purple Pikmin come down the catapult.

Back to business as usual.

The camera pans to some yellow Pikmin making their way inside the machine itself! Some yellows are carrying materials, but two stop and notice a small bolt. One touches it and gets shocked, followed by both touching it, and their leaves sprout into bulbs and flash, as they made a current! A blue tries to join in on the fun, but dies, as they can't conduct electricity. Poor guy :(

A small group of Pikmin sneak off to some pipes, ready to go have some fun! A blue Pikmin kicks a red through a pipe, and we get a cute transition to the other side of the pipes! A yellow pulls out a mushroom, a red and blue pull out screws and, there's a cute mario reference with a red Pikmin! Our lovely gang finds an odd looking pipe and decide to check it out, only for it to have been the snout of a Blowhog! It spews fire before emerging from the pipes, nearly burning the group. Luckily for them, some red Pikmin take on the Blowhog, because they're fire resistant. The red Pikmin are playing with thr Blowhog, despite it still chasing their friends around breathing fire. Luckily AGAIN, the Blowhog trips, and lands in the mud, its snout being filled with it. Naturally, they decide to have fun with the mud.

Back to Olimar and the construction site, my absolute favorite piece of pikmin media occurs. (Spliced 4 convenience, sound on!!!)

Something very big in these shorts are exaggerated reactions as well as music and sound effects playing to convey a specific feeling. Pikmin do not speak, and neither does Olimar. But in these shorts, their small soundbytes are able to convey what the pikmin are saying to eachother. This method of sound design is done extremely well, and I would argue to say that if these shorts prove anything at all, it's that nintendo could make a TV series that has no dialog whatsoever, and still have the audience rolling on thr floor laughing.

Back to the mud buds, we get a few more shots of them playing before yellow gets distracted. The shiny strikes again. Yellow walks into a large oil drum, and picks up a screw. Deeper in the drum, another sparkle catches his attention. Yellow picks the second up, and finds himself at a place with several odd colored objects. One of which he kicks.

It's a Bulborb!!! And its MAD. The mud buds are in trouble, and they're running as fast as they can from the Bulborb, who gets a red and blue Pikmin into its mouth. The two manage to get out through its nostrils, giving the others enough time to make a plan to outsmart the Bulborb.

A giant glove comes out of nowhere, halting the Bulborb and hypnotizing it, before flinging itself onto its backside. The glove was being controlled by an entourage of Pikmin, and the Bulborb catches on rather quickly, biting the glove and flinging the mud buds out. They all hide in a wheel rim(?) and some slapstick ensues.

Fed up with the mud bud's antics, the Bulborb kicks the rim, but hurts his toe instead. Poor guy,,, but he had it coming.

With a cute fanfare, we quickly return to Olimar, who has scaled the machine! But now his attention turns to the Bulborb that has been oddly fascinated with the rim.

The Bulborb finally manages to free the car wheel, throwing it into the air! Once it hits the ground, the mud buds all fall out, much to Olimar's dismay. And the way he struggles while whistling for the pikmin's attention is a BIG mood for people who've played the game before.

The mud buds start running to Olimar after hearing his call, much to the Bulborb's dismay. A chase ensues, and the Blowhog appears again, with its fire abilities regained. Rhe Bulborb continues to give chase, with two Pikmin meeting their demise. Everything seems hopeless, as the buds and Bulborb are huddled into the scoop of the machine.

And we get thrown back to the yellow Pikmin's party, with several linking to eachother and sparkling. One's foot touches the other's head, completing the current and turning the machine on.

The scoop gets sent upwards, as Olimar falls and lands on a lever, causing the scoop to let loose the contents inside. Right when it seems the buds are going to hit the ground along with the Bulborb, their leaves sprout into flowers! They gently float to the ground, while the Bulborb was.... not so lucky. A heavenly light shines as the gang ascend, with triumphant music in the background.

Oh and then all 97 pikmin left go ham on the bulborb.

The machine begins to deconstruct, and fall apart. More sadly relatable whistles from Olimar ensue, and uh

This happens.

After clearing the explosion, Olimar and the Pikmin look upon the wreckage, as the Pod reappears, and takes a value of the entire machine. The Pod asseses that the wreck is 100,000,000,007 pokos, and Olimar makes a triumphant pose. The white pikmin from earlier comes crashing down during the Fin. screen.

Now for my personal thoughts, while I have had some spread throughout, my final cohesive thoughts are as stated down below. Pikmin as a franchise has been dead for a while. We got a reboot of Pikmin 3 this year, and these were reuploaded from the WiiU era. The overwhelmingly positive response from the community as well as non-pikmin fans is second to none. These short style, no dialog cartoons have worked for Nintendo for years. (If anyone remembers the Yoshi and Poochy shorts I love you) This series is phenomenal at conceying emotion, or the volume of the situation, without saying a single word. The pikmin scream in excitement, they make their little noises in anger, dings and drones are placed perfectly, so EVERYONE can understand the situation. I fully believe that more companies should view these cartoons as cartoons, and give them the spotlight as well. Each short remains the length it has to be, and shows some fun content at that. The Pikmin interacting with eachother and behaving the way they do is adorable, especially when in the Pikilopedia from the games, Olimar mentions specifically they act like toddlers. Toddlers who help him not miss his own kids as much, while stranded on PNF-404.

If you wanna give the series a view for yourself, I'll provide the thinks below!!

[melaniedragon]

I drew Mel being in her favorite comfy sweater!💕

She looks so cute! I want to hug her!💕💕💕

I had to reupload this drawing because I noticed a lot of mistakes in the last one and I had to fix them lmao

[sunwoosmom]

So umm english is not my first language so there might be alot of mistakes!

°~The weird Camp with The Boyz~°

By: sunwoos mom #blm

THESE FANFICS ARE FICTIONAL AND ARE MEANT FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY. DO NOT REUPLOAD OR REPRODUCE WITHOUT PERMISSION.

YN stands for your name (so be sure to insert your name!)

Looming over you on a hill was a cluster of several large, wooden buildings. Majority of them looked broken, with windows boarded up, and roof shingles missing. The rest of them…while they weren’t broken, they didn’t exactly look stellar either. From what you could see, it seemed ivy nearly encased the whole cabins, and moss - LOTS OF IT - practically thrived on the roofs.

I am already starting to regret this, you think to yourself. After your parents had been nagging you all through the first month of summer vacation to do something, you finally gave in to their suggestion of summer camp, but now you wished you hadn’t.

“I can’t live in these conditions!” you holler, gesturing to the cabins.

“You’ll get used to it,” your mother says, glancing at the cabins while shielding her eyes from the sun. You and your parents haul your luggage up the hill, with the sunlight beating against your backs. By the time you reach the top of the hill, your back is soaked with sweat.

“Have fun!” your father grins, waves, and he and your mother head back down the hill.

“Take me with you! Please!” you call after them, but either they didn’t hear, or they ignored you because they didn’t want to hear. “Hmph.”

Since there was still time until the orientation started, you decided to look around. The cabins were a tad scary when they were deserted, and you didn’t want to go in alone, but your curiosity also dared you to enter one of them. With your curiosity getting to you, you push one of the cabin doors with a single finger. It creaks open slowly, only opening about halfway. You push it further and prepare for something to jump out at you, but in front of you, you see a pretty clean cabin despite the exterior conditions.

I still don’t want to be at this camp though, you think. Maybe I should climb onto the roof so I can see when the others arrive at the bottom of the hill. You step back out, and from the side, attempt to climb the cabin. Finding seemingly secure foot and hand holds, you make your way up. Close to the top, you turn to look down the hill to see how high up you are and you notice many people looking up at you. You raise your arm to wave at them. All of a sudden, you lose balance and the last you remember is the 12 figures becoming a blur as you descend towards the ground.

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

The sound of waves fills your ears. You can see the sunlight even through your eyelids, and you gradually open them. You block the sunlight in front of your face with your hands and take a look around. You are lying on the sand, in front of you is water as far as the eye can see, and the sky is a rich, bright blue, with the sun shining high in the sky. Behind you is a forest, with a variety of shrubs and foliage in different sizes, and palm trees too! Where am I? you wonder. Something out of the corner of your eye catches your attention and you realize someone is walking briskly towards you. Getting up as fast as you can, you try to run away.

“Wait! Please!” the person yells, but you continue to run. While running, your feet continuously sink into the sand, causing you to fall. Hearing the person get closer, you turn over and place your hands in front of you.

“Don’t come any closer!” you yell.

The man holds up his hands. “I just want to make sure you’re ok. I haven’t seen you around here before.”

“Who are you?” you take this chance to get up, still holding out your hands in case.

“My name is Hyunjae. And you are…?”

“How do I get off this island?”

“Um...I’m not exactly sure.”

“Tell me!” you yell and Hyunjae takes a step back.

“I really don’t know.”

You stare directly into his eyes intensely, hoping he would confess, but he doesn’t back down and neither do you.

“I could do this all day” he says with a slight smirk on his face.

“So could I” you reply.

Suddenly you hear screaming from the distance. You and Hyunjae turn your heads to look in the direction it came from.

“Kevin” you hear Hyunjae mutter under his breath. He turns to look at you “Coming?” And before you can answer he bolts away.

“Hey! Wait up!” you call and run after him. As you’re running you almost collide into Hyunjae when he unexpectedly stops.

“Woah,” Hyunjae says softly. You follow his gaze and your blood turns cold when you see the scene in front of you. The person who you assume is named Kevin, is being yelled at by...you.

“Tell me who you are and how I got here! Get me off this island! Are you listening to me?!” the other you yelled.

“I already told you! I’m Kevin! And I don’t know!” Kevin was backing away as the other you got closer and closer whilst yelling at him.

“This looks familiar,” Hyunjae said. He turned to face you and placed his hands on your shoulders, and stared into your eyes. “So, you’re real. But there’s two of you?” After a moment of silence, you realize that you’ve been too busy staring back at his eyes and quickly shake off his hands. “I- I suppose so. But she’s way angrier than I was when I first met you. I was more worried about where I was and who you were than mad.”

Before thinking ahead you just knew you had to save kevin from the other you. She was really embarrassing you in front of Hyunjae!

“Hey you!” you called and the angry you glanced your way. For a moment her angry face disintegrated. “What do you think you’re doing? Leave Kevin alone!”

“Ok, now I’m confused,” Kevin said.

“Who are you?” the angry you asked.

“I’m...you…?” you answered. “I only came here a few minutes ago, but things have already gone wild,” you say more to yourself than to the other you.

“Tell me about it! I woke up here a few moments ago too.” the angry you says.

“That’s odd...” you say. “You don’t think...that we came at the same time, do you? I mean it could be possible. We are the same person technically. Except you’re way more furious than I was.”

“Do you think there are more of us out there?!” her eyes widened and you didn’t know if she looked more frightening or frightened. You wanted to reassure her that there probably weren’t more of you or her out there, but how did you know for sure? If you split into two emotions already, anything was possible.

“Is there anyone else on the island that we can talk to? Maybe they’ve seen more of us- or people that look like us walking around?” you grin nervously at Hyunjae. He and Kevin glance at each other solemnly.

“Maybe we can figure that out tomorrow. It’s getting kind of late and we should go to sleep. I can show you guys a place where you can stay,” Kevin says.

“Yea right,” the angry you snorts.

Hyunjae looks at you and gestures towards the angry you with his chin. You nod, understanding.

“I think we should trust Kevin and Hyunjae. They’ve been on this island seemingly longer than we have and know it better than we do. If we don’t, we’ll never survive on our own. What do you say? No more yelling at Kevin? Or getting angry for no reason?”

The angry you ponders for a moment, “Fine. I can’t make any promises about getting angry, but I will trust them for now.”

And with that, you and the other you follow Kevin and Hyunjae into the dark forest.

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

After what seemed like hours, Kevin finally stops and lights a lantern hanging from a tree. Illuminated before you was a group of tall trees.

“Kevin, I hate to say it, but this looks like any other group of trees we’ve seen in the woods,” the angry you pokes a nearby tree.

Without a word, Kevin reaches up and grabs a sturdy piece of hanging ivy. He begins climbing a tree and disappears into the leaves.

“She didn’t mean it!” you hastily say.

Next chapter coming in 18.7

[shiranuigenma]

Sunlight - ShiIta

EXPLICIT // ALSO ON AO3 Words: 1,108 Prompt: "Sunlight” requested by anon Warnings: Sexual content, everybody lives AU

Reuploaded for @malignedaffairs​ :)

So a little explanation as to why this fic was deleted: This fic was an unintended and entirely accidental casualty of my dumb ass deciding to purge most of my fics from AO3/Tumblr. Sunlight was one of the chosen ones, it wasn't meant to be deleted, but I was either sleep deprived or wasn't paying attention or something and messed up. 

But! I'm here today to rectify that mistake (after several months because above all else I am a procrastinator) and reupload it to both AO3 and Tumblr. Enjoy!

Itachi spends longer than he would care to admit studying Shisui, wanting to reach out and smooth his sleep-mussed hair, trace the shape of his face, but he does not want to wake him. Instead, he thinks about how beautiful he is and for the first time in a long time, Itachi feels at peace. For the moment, nothing is wrong. There is no one to fight, no one to protect. For the moment, the sight of Shisui like this belongs entirely to Itachi.

Itachi wakes with the sun, blinking groggily as his bedroom comes into focus, the weak golden sunlight filtering through the thin curtains slowly but surely spreads into the room. There is a weight across his waist and a warmth at his back, and he carefully wriggles loose of the hold and turns to look at Shisui, sleeping soundly beside him, the light just beginning to illuminate his features.

He spends longer than he would care to admit studying the older man, wanting to reach out and smooth his sleep-mussed hair, trace the shape of his face, but he does not want to wake him. Instead, he thinks about how beautiful he is, admiring the splash of his hair on the pillow, a stark contrast of dark against bright, bleached white, and for the first time in a long time, Itachi feels at peace. For the moment, nothing is wrong. There is no one to fight, no one to protect. For the moment, the sight of Shisui like this belongs entirely to Itachi.

In his heart, he knows this cannot last. It has long been a custom for the Uchiha to marry within their own clan, a tactic designed to keep the bloodline pure and the Kekkei Genkai strong, but even something so morally questionable had rules; they were expected to find suitable wives and father heirs to further the bloodline trait, and to be with another man as they would be with a woman was forbidden. Itachi knows that Shisui doesn't care, but he isn't the son of the head of the clan. He doesn't face the same expectations, hasn't been raised from birth to carry the weight of the clan's future on his shoulders.

But for this moment, neither does Itachi. This moment he can allow himself to have, and he can't resist the urge to activate his Sharingan, to commit this moment to memory. No matter what their futures hold, he will always have this, and he will always have Shisui, forever imprinted on his soul.

He can no longer resist.

He reaches out to touch.

Shisui stirs beneath his hand, feather-light as it is against his cheek, and a sleepy smile slowly crosses his face as he blinks slowly at Itachi. He loves that smile, and he decides the conversation they need to have can wait. He wants to hold onto this for as long as he can.

"Morning," Shisui murmurs, turning his head to press a soft kiss to Itachi's palm. "You're up early." If he notices Itachi's Sharingan, he says nothing, instead shifting closer and wrapping his arms around him, pulling him close to his chest. Itachi lets himself relax into his lover's hold, nuzzling his head beneath Shisui's chin and pressing his lips to his chest.

Itachi can't bring himself to speak, to ruin the quiet peace of the moment, so he doesn't; instead he tips his head back and searches for Shisui's mouth, meeting him a slow, tender kiss. It's bittersweet, the soft touch of the other man's lips and the way his arms tighten around him, and when he rolls onto his back so Itachi is laying on his chest, it aches. But he pushes that thought from his mind, carefully shifting until his knees touch the mattress on either side of Shisui's body and he can feel him, already hardening against his backside.

Shisui moans as Itachi shifts again, this time inching forward so he can reach back to curl his hand around the other man's length, giving him a slow, almost lazy stroke, cocking his head as he studies the change in his expression - the way his eyes flutter shut, lips parting slightly as his head presses back into the pillow, the slight flush of his pale cheeks... He is so beautiful it leaves him breathless.

Shisui holds him steady with one hand as he reaches for the bedside table, his head turning to look for the bottle they had discarded last night, and Itachi can't resist leaning forward to kiss the taut skin of his throat, feeling his lover shiver as he moves to trace the line of Shisui's jaw with his tongue. He loves that he is the one that can draw these reactions from the other man, that he is the one permitted to touch and to taste - again, he thinks of what is expected of them, and he can't even begin to entertain the idea of anyone else getting to enjoy Shisui in this manner.

This is his, as Shisui is his, and as his lover loses focus on the bottle when Itachi kisses him, he decides then and there that he doesn't give a damn about what is expected of him. It's not as if he is the last Uchiha, there are others to carry on the family bloodline.

All he cares about is Shisui and each gentle, loving touch the other man is giving him as he prepares to take him again.

He can't help but moan at the soft pressure of Shisui's finger, angling his hips to allow the man easier access as he slips one long, slick finger inside him, and he forgets to breathe when he adds a second, gentle as he moves and scissors those fingers, carefully stretching him before adding a third.

When Shisui finally withdraws his fingers, Itachi is breathing heavily, face buried in the crook of his lover's neck and lips moving as he wordlessly begs, settling back as Shisui gently pushes at his hips with one hand, the other gripping his cock as he lines himself up at Itachi's entrance.

He is as slow and gentle as he was the first time as he presses in, sucking in a deep, trembling breath when Itachi shifts to take him in fully, impatient with the speed, or lack thereof, of things. Itachi moans again at the sensation of being full and Shisui's fingers tangling in the dark cascade of his hair, pulling him in for another insistent kiss.

"I love you," Shisui gasps against his mouth as Itachi begins to move, each rise and roll of his hips slow and carefully controlled, in no rush to chase after release, instead entirely focused on the feeling of the slick slide of his lover inside him, the hot, open-mouthed kisses he's placing on every bit of Itachi he can reach, hands warm and heavy on Itachi's hips.

This is more than mere release - it's a connection of body and soul, an expression of emotions that run deeper than the bonds of blood.

It's about Shisui and Itachi, finally allowing themselves to come together in the light of day.