#she might be put off by how he hovers But that depends on how much she likes him

[eebie]

so glad she's just as goofy in the comics

[aspenmissing]

ʙʀᴏᴋᴇɴ ʙᴏɴᴇꜱ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ || 4934 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ʙʀᴏᴋᴇɴ ʙᴏɴᴇꜱ, ᴅᴇꜱᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋꜱ, ꜱɴᴀᴘᴘɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ʙᴏɴᴇꜱ

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴏᴜʀ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʙʀᴏᴋᴇɴ ʙᴏɴᴇꜱ.

ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx/ᴘᴏᴡᴅᴇʀ ᴠᴇʀꜱɪᴏɴ

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ

JAYCE

The sun had long dipped below the Piltover skyline when Jayce finally saw the door to the hospital swing open. His heart jumped to his throat as Y/N stepped out, her arm encased in a pristine white cast. She looked exhausted, though she offered him a small smile. He was on his feet in an instant, rushing to her side.

"Y/N," he breathed, his hands hovering near her as if unsure whether to touch her or not. His warm brown eyes were flooded with concern. "How are you feeling? Does it still hurt?"

"I'm fine, Jayce," she said, her voice soft and reassuring. "It’s just a broken arm. I’ll live."

But that didn’t stop him from looking her over like she was made of glass. He took her good hand gently in his and began walking with her, his free hand instinctively moving to the small of her back to guide her. When they got home, he made her sit down immediately, fussing over pillows, blankets, and a glass of water she hadn’t asked for.

That night, when he finally sat beside her, he moved in to hug her but paused halfway, his arms hovering.

"Jayce," she teased lightly, though she couldn’t help the warmth in her tone. "You’re not going to break me."

"I just don’t want to hurt you," he murmured, closing the gap slowly and pressing a careful kiss to her forehead.

=

The weeks passed, and while Y/N grew used to her cast, Jayce never stopped treating her like she might shatter at the slightest touch. His constant doting was both endearing and exasperating, and Y/N found herself looking forward to the day her arm was healed if only to spare him the worry.

No matter what she tried to do, Jayce was always there, hovering, ready to take over before she even had the chance to begin. If she so much as reached for a glass of water, he was there to grab it for her.

"Jayce," she said one morning as she shuffled into the kitchen, her good hand brushing through her hair. "I think I can pour myself some juice."

But before she could even pick up the carton, Jayce swooped in, grabbing it with his usual efficiency and pouring it into a glass. He turned to her with a satisfied smile, holding the glass out like a peace offering.

"I’ve got it," he said cheerfully.

She groaned but accepted the juice, muttering under her breath, "I’m not useless."

Things only got worse when it came to her daily routines. One evening, as she stood in front of the bathroom mirror with her toothbrush in hand, Jayce appeared behind her, arms crossed.

"You shouldn’t be twisting your wrist like that," he said, his tone dripping with concern.

"Jayce," she replied, her tone flat, "I think I can manage brushing my teeth."

"Sure, but what if you accidentally put too much pressure on your arm?" He leaned forward, reaching for the toothbrush.

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "You are not brushing my teeth for me."

"Just let me help—"

"Jayce!"

He backed off, though he still watched her like a hawk until she finished, muttering something about how she was being "too stubborn for her own good."

The same scenario repeated itself with nearly everything else. When she tried to brush her hair, Jayce would gently take the brush from her hand, insisting, "I’ll do it for you. You shouldn’t strain yourself."

When it came to meals, he practically insisted on cutting up her food. One time, she tried to pick up a fork, only for him to gently but firmly take it from her hand.

"Jayce, I can feed myself," she protested, her voice tinged with exasperation.

"But it’s easier this way," he replied, as if it were the most logical thing in the world. "Just let me take care of you."

"You mean ‘smother me,’" she muttered, though she couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips.

By the end of the third week, Y/N was ready to scream—or laugh, depending on her mood. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate Jayce’s care; it was just that his over-the-top devotion made her feel more helpless than her injury ever had.

Still, for all her frustration, there was no denying how much he loved her. Late at night, when he thought she was asleep, he’d press the softest kisses to her cast and whisper, "I’m so sorry this happened. I’ll take care of you, I promise."

And despite everything, Y/N couldn’t help but smile in those moments. As maddening as Jayce’s overprotectiveness was, his heart was always in the right place.

=

The day finally came. When the doctor removed her cast, Y/N sighed in relief as she flexed her fingers, revelling in the newfound freedom. Beside her, Jayce stood like an overbearing guardian, peppering the doctor with an endless stream of questions.

"How long until she’s fully healed? Is there anything she shouldn’t do? What about heavy lifting—can she—?"

The doctor smiled patiently. "She’ll need to be cautious for a while. The arm’s still regaining strength, so no overexertion or high-impact activities just yet."

Jayce nodded solemnly, taking every word to heart as if it were gospel.

=

Back home, the mood was lighter. Y/N was thrilled to have her arm back, stretching it gingerly and revelling in the small victories of brushing her own hair or pouring her own drink without interference. Still, Jayce couldn’t entirely suppress his protective instincts, hovering nearby like a nervous parent ready to jump in at the slightest sign of trouble.

That evening, the playful energy between them sparked into a full-blown argument when Jayce made a cheeky comment about Y/N’s cooking skills. Her response was swift—a cushion hurled directly at his chest.

"Oh, it’s on now," Jayce declared, his tone mock-serious as he lunged towards her with comically slow movements.

Y/N shrieked in laughter, dodging to the side, but he caught her waist, pulling her down onto the floor in a tangle of giggles. They wrestled half-heartedly, their laughter echoing through the room.

But then it happened.

As Jayce shifted his weight, his knee accidentally pressed against her recently healed arm. The sharp snap that followed was like a thunderclap in the room. Y/N’s laughter cut off with a pained gasp, her face twisting in agony as she clutched her arm.

Jayce froze, his eyes widening in horror. His face drained of all colour as he whispered, "Y/N?"

"Oh, no," Y/N groaned, her tone a mix of frustration and pain. "Jayce, I think you—"

"I broke it again," he finished, his voice cracking with panic. He scrambled off her, his hands flying to his head. "Oh, gods, I broke it again! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—I—"

"Jayce," she hissed through gritted teeth, trying to sit up despite the searing pain. "Stop panicking and help me!"

Her sharp tone snapped him out of his spiral. He was at her side in an instant, carefully cradling her as he helped her to her feet, though his hands trembled with guilt.

"I can’t believe I did this," he muttered, more to himself than to her. "I’m the worst. I’ll carry you to the hospital. Or, no, I’ll call someone—"

"Jayce," Y/N interrupted, her voice firm but soft. She reached up with her good hand to cup his cheek, forcing him to meet her gaze. "It’s fine. It was an accident. Let’s just get to the hospital before you spiral any further, alright?"

He nodded mutely, swallowing hard as he supported her out the door, his face a picture of guilt and worry.

=

By the time they reached the hospital, Jayce’s panic had given way to quiet determination. He sat by her side the entire time, holding her non hurt hand tightly and murmuring apologies under his breath as though the words could undo the damage.

When it was all over and they were finally heading home, Jayce couldn’t help but glance at her sheepishly. "You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?"

Y/N chuckled despite the dull ache in her arm, her tone filled with teasing warmth. "Not a chance, big guy. But for now, maybe stick to hugs instead of play fights."

Jayce grinned, though the guilt still lingered in his eyes. "Deal," he said softly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as they walked home. This time, he’d be careful. No more play fights—at least not until she declared herself ready.

VIKTOR

The shimmer of Piltover's golden hour streamed through the lab's wide windows, painting the room in hues of amber and gold. The soft hum of machinery mixed with the faint crackle of an experimental device on the far side of the room. Workbenches were laden with blueprints, half-assembled mechanisms, and jars filled with odd-looking components, all arranged in a chaos only Viktor could decipher.

At his desk, Viktor was hunched over a delicate contraption, his hands deftly twisting a screwdriver into place. His cane leaned against the table, but he occasionally reached out to tap it against the floor, the sound rhythmic and faintly metallic. It served as a subconscious metronome to his thoughts, a steady reminder of his focus.

Across the room, Y/N sat on a stool, her leg propped up on a haphazard stack of thick books, including a dusty tome on hextech theory. Her foot and leg were encased in pristine white bandages, stretching from her knee to her toes. A sleek crutch leaned against the workbench beside her, catching the light from the window as though mocking her injury.

“You know,” Viktor drawled without looking up from his work, his accent laced with wry amusement, “I did not think you’d try to match me in this way. I must admit, it’s flattering.”

Y/N raised a brow, reaching for a pencil from the cluttered table. She lobbed it at him with precision, and Viktor tilted his head just enough to let it sail past him. It clattered harmlessly to the floor, and he smirked, finally glancing at her.

“Flattering?” she asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re lucky I can’t chase you down right now.”

“Lucky indeed,” Viktor replied, his tone thick with mock sincerity. “Though, I would have out-walked you anyway. My cane, you see, has years of experience. Your… crutch?” He motioned to it with a small flick of his fingers. “It’s still in training.”

Y/N let out a scoff, adjusting her position on the stool as she folded her arms. “Oh, we’re doing this, are we? For your information, I’ve already mastered the art of moving with this thing. Observe—grace in motion!”

She grabbed the crutch and pushed herself to her feet, balancing precariously as she exaggerated a swing of her body. She wobbled almost immediately, the crutch slipping slightly on the polished floor, forcing her to grip it tighter to avoid tumbling.

Viktor leaned back in his chair, the corner of his mouth quirking upward. A soft chuckle escaped him, low and smug. “Graceful indeed. Perhaps we should call it The Dancing Crutch.”

“Ha-ha,” Y/N deadpanned, planting the crutch back on the ground with a firm thud. “Alright, show-off. What makes your cane so much better, then?”

Viktor lifted his cane from its resting spot, twirling it lightly in his hand. “Ah, where to begin?” he mused, inspecting it with exaggerated reverence. “It is perfectly balanced, the weight distributed just so. It is an extension of myself—functional, elegant, and entirely superior.”

“Oh, please,” Y/N retorted, rolling her eyes. “Your cane squeaks when you walk too fast.”

His brow arched. “Squeaks, you say?”

“Yes,” she confirmed, her grin widening. “And don’t act like you don’t know it. Every time you sneak up on me, it gives you away.”

“Ah, but that is my plan,” Viktor countered, leaning forward slightly, the mischievous glint in his amber eyes growing brighter. “The squeak is a distraction. By the time you hear it, it is already too late.”

Y/N snorted, unable to hold back her laughter. “You’re absolutely ridiculous.”

“And yet,” Viktor said, standing with deliberate slowness, testing his weight on the cane before stepping forward, “I am still better at this than you.” He moved to the centre of the room, spinning the cane deftly in his hand like a sword. Twirling it once more, he planted it firmly on the ground with a dramatic flourish, bowing slightly as though he’d just performed for an audience.

“Precision and flair,” he declared, looking at her expectantly.

Y/N burst into laughter, clapping her hands. “Oh, Viktor, that was brilliant. You’ve missed your calling as a circus performer.”

He gave a mock bow. “Your turn, of course. Let us see the power of The Dancing Crutch.”

“Oh, you’re on,” Y/N said, determination glinting in her eyes. She grabbed her crutch, rising carefully to her feet and grimacing slightly as she adjusted to the weight on her uninjured leg. She turned to Viktor with a mock bow. “Prepare to be amazed.”

She swung the crutch around with wild enthusiasm, attempting to mimic Viktor’s movements. Unfortunately, her lack of balance and unfamiliarity with her "weapon" quickly caught up to her. The crutch wobbled, tangling her up as she flailed to keep from falling. She nearly toppled over before Viktor darted forward—well, as quickly as he could—catching her by the arm and steadying her.

“Impressive,” he teased, his voice dripping with amusement. “A technique I call The Flailing Crane.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him but couldn’t suppress her grin. “Alright, fine. You win this round. But I’m still faster than you, even with this thing.”

“Is that a challenge?” Viktor asked, his lips curving into a lopsided smirk.

“It’s a promise,” Y/N shot back, the same spark of mischief in her eyes that had lit their banter since the day she got her crutch.

=

It had been weeks since then, and now the crutch was gone—relegated to the corner of the lab, collecting dust alongside failed prototypes and forgotten tools. Y/N flexed her leg, testing the strength in it, the faintest twinge of discomfort reminding her of how far she’d come. She grinned at Viktor, planting her hands on her hips.

“Well, you’re in trouble now,” she said smugly. “No more crutch. No more excuses. I could outrun you without breaking a sweat.”

Viktor leaned against his cane, arching an unimpressed brow. “Ah, yes. Because speed has always been my greatest strength,” he said dryly.

“I’m serious!” Y/N laughed, rolling her shoulders like a runner preparing for a race. “You’d better keep that cane close, because you’re going to need it when I leave you in the dust.”

Viktor tilted his head, considering her for a moment. Then, the smirk returned, sharp and calculated. “If you are so confident, perhaps we should test this theory.”

Y/N raised a brow. “You want to race me? You’re on.”

He nodded, limping to the middle of the room with his cane tapping lightly against the floor. Y/N stretched her legs dramatically, shaking them out like she was preparing for a marathon. Viktor watched her antics with quiet amusement, adjusting his cane in his grip.

“Alright,” Y/N said, standing beside him and glancing towards the lab door, which would mark the finish line. “First one to the door wins. No excuses when I beat you, alright?”

“Of course,” Viktor replied, his voice smooth and innocent. Too innocent.

Y/N didn’t notice the subtle glint in his eye as they both readied themselves. She crouched slightly, her weight balanced on the balls of her feet. Viktor shifted his grip on the cane, his posture deceptively casual.

“Ready?” Y/N asked.

“Always,” Viktor answered, and the moment the words left his mouth, he swung his cane sideways with a quick flick, the handle knocking into her ankle just hard enough to unbalance her.

“OW!” Y/N yelped, stumbling back and clutching her ankle. She shot Viktor a look of betrayal, her mouth agape. “Did you just—?”

But Viktor was already hobbling towards the door as fast as he could, a triumphant laugh escaping him. “Forgot to mention,” he called over his shoulder, “it doubles as a perfect weapon!”

“You cheater!” Y/N yelled, still holding her ankle as the sting faded. “I can’t believe you!”

Viktor glanced back with a lopsided grin, his pace unhurried but victorious. “You said no excuses. You never said no strategy.”

Y/N groaned, finally shaking off the lingering pain and starting after him, though the head start he’d gained was enough to keep her behind. “When I catch you, you’re going to regret that, Viktor!”

“Catch me first,” Viktor teased, his voice light with laughter as he reached the door and leaned against it, tapping his cane against the floor with a flourish.

By the time Y/N reached him, she was laughing despite herself, glaring at him with mock indignation. “You’re lucky I don’t have my crutch anymore, or I’d be using it on you.”

Viktor chuckled, leaning slightly closer. “Ah, but that is why I struck first.”

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” Viktor said, his smirk softening as he straightened up, “you still cannot resist our games.”

Y/N huffed, shaking her head but smiling all the same. “Next time, no tricks.”

“Next time,” Viktor agreed, though the glint in his eye said otherwise.

Their laughter filled the lab once more, echoing off the walls as they walked back together, bickering and teasing all the while. And though Y/N silently vowed revenge, she couldn’t deny how much she enjoyed these little moments—moments where the weight of life felt a little lighter, shared with someone who made the world infinitely brighter.

JAYVIK

Y/N sighed, leaning heavily against the counter in the lab, her brow furrowed as she twisted a particularly stubborn component on the device Viktor had been fine-tuning all morning. Her frustration simmered just beneath the surface, every failed attempt to adjust the mechanism pushing her closer to snapping. Across the room, Jayce was humming some jaunty tune, his movements rhythmic as he tinkered with his own project. He seemed utterly oblivious to the quiet chaos brewing at her station. Viktor, however, stood nearby, his sharp golden eyes flitting between the blueprint and the device, his cane propped securely against the worktable.

“You’re twisting it wrong,” Viktor remarked casually, his voice tinged with that characteristic dry amusement.

Y/N groaned, throwing him an exasperated glance. “I’m not twisting it wrong!” she retorted, the irritation in her tone undercut by playful defiance.

“If you keep at it like that, you’ll break it,” Viktor warned, leaning slightly closer to observe her handiwork, his expression almost smug.

From his corner of the lab, Jayce chuckled, his voice warm and teasing. “Come on, Y/N. Viktor’s always right about this stuff. You know he’s been doing this since before you even stepped into a lab.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, shooting a mock glare in Jayce’s direction. “Oh, please. I’m not going to break it. I’ve got this under control.”

She glanced back at the device, her grip tightening on the delicate mechanism. She wasn’t about to let either of them have the satisfaction of being right.

“Y/N,” Viktor began, a faint note of warning creeping into his tone, “you’re applying too much—”

CRACK!

The sound reverberated through the lab, sharp and unmistakable.

It wasn’t the device.

Pain exploded up Y/N’s arm, sharp and unrelenting. Her breath hitched, and for a split second, she froze, willing herself to stay calm despite the agony radiating from her wrist. Viktor’s eyes snapped to her, his expression shifting from bemusement to alarm, while Jayce immediately looked up from his work, a frown creasing his features.

“That... wasn’t the device,” Jayce said slowly, his brows knitting together in confusion. He set down his tools and took a step towards her, his gaze scanning her face.

“It’s fine!” Y/N blurted, panic rising in her chest as she quickly shoved her injured arm behind her back. She forced a tight-lipped smile, hoping they couldn’t see the faint sheen of sweat forming on her brow. “I just—uh—dropped something! No big deal!”

“Y/N,” Viktor said, his voice low and sceptical, “what did you—”

“Nope! Totally fine! Nothing to worry about!” Y/N interrupted, her words rushed as she started backing towards the door.

“Wait, what—” Jayce began, his confusion deepening as he took another step forward.

“Don’t worry about it! Be back soon!” Y/N called over her shoulder, practically sprinting out of the lab before either of them could protest.

==

Hours later, Y/N returned to the lab, her arm encased in a pristine white cast. The nurses at the clinic had been kind—almost too kind—and had taken it upon themselves to decorate her cast with bright doodles and cheerful messages like “Get well soon!” and “Stay out of trouble!” While the colourful scribbles added a bit of charm, she couldn’t help but feel self-conscious as she stepped into the lab, hoping her absence had gone unnoticed.

She was wrong.

The moment Y/N crossed the threshold, Viktor and Jayce’s heads snapped up in unison, their eyes locking onto her cast.

For a moment, silence hung in the air. Jayce’s face twisted into a mix of confusion and disbelief, while Viktor’s expression darkened, his brows furrowing deeply as he leaned on his cane.

“What the hell happened to your arm?” Jayce demanded, his voice sharp as he strode towards her, his large frame looming.

“Nothing!” Y/N said a bit too quickly, holding up her injured arm as if to dismiss their concern. “It’s just a minor mishap. No big deal.”

“No big deal?” Viktor repeated, his tone flat and disbelieving as he limped closer, the soft tap of his cane punctuating each step. “Y/N, you are wearing a cast. How exactly is that ‘no big deal’?”

Jayce folded his arms across his chest, his stern expression doing little to mask the worry in his eyes. “You left here perfectly fine, and now you come back with that? What aren’t you telling us?”

Y/N shifted uncomfortably, her cheeks flushing under their dual scrutiny. She hesitated, then sighed. “It’s nothing, really. I might’ve... twisted something earlier while working on that device.” She gestured vaguely towards the workstation, her voice trailing off.

“Twisted something?” Viktor echoed, his sharp gaze narrowing. “Y/N, that is not a twist. That is a fracture.”

Jayce’s eyes widened in realisation, his voice rising. “Wait—are you telling me you broke your arm working on that? And you didn’t think to tell us?!”

“I didn’t want to worry you!” Y/N shot back, her voice small and defensive.

“Not tell us?!” Viktor’s cane tapped the floor sharply as he gestured at her arm. “You left the lab injured without explanation! Do you know how reckless that is?”

Jayce ran a hand through his hair, his earlier frustration giving way to something softer and far more concerned. “Y/N, we’re your partners. We’re supposed to look out for each other.” His voice gentled further, the warmth in his tone almost disarming. “You’re not just our colleague—you’re family.”

Viktor’s gaze softened at Jayce’s words, and he nodded. “Exactly. Next time, do not hide these things. Let us help.”

Y/N hesitated, guilt twisting in her chest as she looked between the two of them. Their worry was genuine, their affection undeniable. Finally, she nodded, offering a small, sheepish smile. “Alright. I promise.”

“Good,” Jayce said, a mischievous grin breaking across his face. “Now, let me see that cast. I’m claiming the first signature spot!”

“No way,” Viktor interjected smoothly, already reaching for a pen on the nearest table. “I have far better handwriting.”

“Oh, please,” Jayce scoffed. “Your handwriting is completely illegible. Let me do it!”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh as the two of them immediately began bickering, their usual competitive nature coming through. She raised her arm slightly, giving them a glimpse of the colourful scribbles already covering the cast.

“Well, you’re both too late,” Y/N said with a grin. “The nurses beat you to it. They practically had a race to see who could sign it first.”

Jayce blinked in surprise, his hand faltering mid-air. “Wait, they signed it already?” he asked, eyes widening as he inspected the lively messages and doodles that covered the surface.

Viktor leaned in as well, his golden eyes scanning the signatures. “Well, I suppose we’ve been beaten to the punch,” he remarked dryly, though there was a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I can’t blame them for getting in first.”

Y/N chuckled, feeling the warm, familiar weight of their presence. “Guess you’ll just have to wait your turn.”

Jayce raised an eyebrow, giving Viktor a pointed look. “Alright, fine. I’ll let Viktor sign it next.”

Viktor shook his head with a smirk. “I’m not signing last. That’s just not acceptable.”

“Oh, come on,” Jayce protested, folding his arms. “Your handwriting looks like a scribbled mess. I’ll go next.”

“Absolutely not,” Viktor said firmly, giving Jayce a playful but stern look. “I’ll make it look presentable. You’re just going to make it worse.”

Y/N laughed again, shaking her head at the bickering. “Alright, alright. How about this—both of you sign it at the same time?”

Jayce and Viktor exchanged a glance, both sizing up the situation. After a brief moment of silent deliberation, they shrugged in unison, reluctantly agreeing to her suggestion.

“Fair enough,” Jayce said, handing Viktor the pen with a mischievous smirk. “But just so you know, I’m still going next.”

Viktor rolled his eyes but grinned. “We’ll see about that.”

And so, despite their playful bickering, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a warm sense of comfort wash over her. They were arguing over something as trivial as whose signature went where on her cast, but in this moment, it was clear how much they cared. She couldn’t help but feel incredibly lucky to have such devoted, genuine people by her side.

=

A few weeks later, Y/N’s cast was finally removed. As the doctor carefully sawed through the plaster, Y/N’s thoughts wandered to the signed messages left behind by Viktor and Jayce. She couldn’t help but chuckle as the doctor handed her the cut cast.

“You know,” she said, “I’m pretty sure this cast must be worth a fortune by now. I mean, it’s got both of your signatures on it. It's practically priceless.”

Jayce chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t get any ideas, Y/N. I’m not buying it back.”

Viktor smirked from where he stood, tinkering with one of his machines. “Well, if we’re going to charge for it, we’d have to factor in the quality of our handwriting. Mine’s worth at least double.”

“Oh, please,” Jayce scoffed. “Your handwriting looks like a series of chaotic scribbles. No one’s paying top dollar for that.”

Y/N laughed, the weight in her chest lightening as she watched the two of them bicker. It felt good to be back, to be doing something familiar again.

=

The three of them got back to work, the familiar hum of the lab filling the air once more. Y/N had barely started picking up where she left off when she felt the familiar, irritating tightness in her wrist as she tried to twist a particularly stubborn piece into place. She applied more pressure, gritting her teeth as she tried to force it.

And then—CRACK!

The sound was unmistakable.

Viktor and Jayce both froze. For a brief moment, they exchanged a panicked look before their eyes snapped back to Y/N, expecting to see her wincing in pain or clutching her arm in distress. But instead, Y/N stood there with a wide grin, her arm outstretched, and her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Before either of them could speak, Y/N burst into laughter, her shoulders shaking with mirth. “You should have seen the look on your faces!” she exclaimed, wiping away a tear from the corner of her eye. “I didn’t break it again!”

Jayce blinked in confusion, his brow furrowing. “What? Then what was that crack? Are you telling me you didn’t—”

Y/N held up her hand, still laughing. She reached into her mouth and pulled out two perfectly raw pasta strands, holding them up for both of them to see. “I just bit into some pasta,” she said between giggles, “and it snapped! You two looked like you were about to faint!”

Viktor, clearly relieved, let out a deep breath and shook his head, a faint smile playing at his lips. “You’re unbelievable,” he muttered, still trying to process what had just happened.

Jayce, on the other hand, was still staring at her in disbelief. “I swear, I’m going to need a second to recover from that,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “You seriously got us again.”

Y/N winked at him, still grinning ear to ear. “Just keeping you on your toes. Besides,” she added with a mischievous gleam in her eye, “I needed to remind you both that I’m still the one in charge around here.”

Jayce rolled his eyes, though a smile tugged at his lips. “We’ll see about that.”

As the three of them returned to work, the air was light, filled with the easy camaraderie of old friends. Y/N was just as capable and spirited as before, and as long as she kept them guessing, Viktor and Jayce were more than happy to keep her around—broken arm or not.

[amostimprobabledream]

Animal Attraction (Grimmjow x Reader)

Also available on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/60500386

Good lord, how you hated office parties.

But here you were, in itchy tights, shoes that were hurting your feet, and glitter on your face. You’d worn the shoes because they matched the dress and the tights because you were paranoid that the dress might be too short – you hadn’t had time to try it on when you bought it in a blind panic, and exposing the lower half of your butt cheeks to your boss would be a huge error on your part. …Or possibly lead to a promotion, depending on his proclivities. But not a risk you’re willing to run.

You’re now at the point where the festivities have drained you of your social battery and the artificial good cheer is grating on your nerves. All you want to do is go home, get comfortable and fling your bra off.

“Hey, so, I think I’m gonna…” you say to Chie, someone you’ve always gotten along with.

“Whaaat? You’re not leaving already, are you?” Chie asks, widening her big doe eyes – you roll yours playfully in response, you’ve put off leaving once already because she pulled out that weapon, but it won’t work on you twice.

“Yeah, I’m done. I can only take so much of this goddamn music.” You laugh, knocking back the last of your drink. Hey, at least those were free. “I’ll message when I get home, okay?”

Chie gives a comedic pout of defeat, the flashing lights shining on her lipgloss, and she holds out her arms.

“Fiiine, better not forget!”

You shake your head as you give her a hug – she’s the one who usually forget to text, not you, but you can’t be bothered to raise that point now, her expensive Jimmy Choo perfume enveloping you – you keep meaning to ask her which specific perfume it is-

“Aww, no hugs for me?”

Fuck.

You stiffen in annoyance as you release Chie – Keiji is another co-worker of yours and since he “broke up” with his ex, he’s been hovering around you and some of the other women in the office like a wasp at a picnic.

“Uh-“ you say, trying to think of a way to tell him to fuck off in a manner that won’t get you hauled straight down to HR. But you’re a little drink and your brain is working without all cylinders firing, so before you can do much else, Kenji is hugging you as well and you grunt in displeasure – did he fucking bathe in his cheap-ass aftershave?

“So, I’ll see you later!” you say to Chie, accidentally-on-purpose jamming the heel of your heeled boot down onto Kenji’s big toe and he grunts and loosens his grip and you slither away from him like an eel.

“Prick.” You snarl under your breath as you stomp towards the lobby, nearly making it outside before you have to double back for your coat.

The night air knocks you for a loop and for a second the whole world seems to waver before your eyes. You stand there for a second, waiting for your body to adjust to the sudden change, head tilted up at the sky, a dark blue studded with distant stars and the misty halo of the moon, when out of the corner of your eye you spot something that makes the breath catch in your throat.

A figure leans against the building across the road from you, arms folded, staring you down with eyes so blue they almost seem to glow in the dim.

“Gri- what- how did you know I’d be here?” you splutter intelligently, staring at him.

He sneers and pushes off the wall, stalking up to you with his hands deep in the pocket of his jacket, his shadow falling across your frame.

“Che. You think you’re hard to find?” he asks, an arrogant tilt to his head as he looks down at you. “I’d know your scent anywhere.”

His eyes slide up and down your frame and a leer pulls at his lips, his eyes narrowing a fraction. You belatedly realise you forgot to do up your coat, in such a rush to escape Kenji and his grasping arms you’d stumbled outside with it clumsily pulled on, so your sparkly little party dress that’s showing plenty of boob is on clear display.

“Nice.” Is Grimmjow’s concise assessment of your outfit as he takes another step close to you, and you’re rooted to the spot as you gaze up at him. “Easy access.”

Your mouth falls open at his words – you should be used to his audacity by now but he still manages to find ways to surprise you - but before indignation has a chance to formulate a biting retort, he’s pulling you in impatiently, a hand wrapped around the back of your neck, and the next thing you know, his mouth is on yours, searing hot in the cold outdoors.

You can’t prevent the little moan that leaves you – rough and brutal he may be, but damn does he know how to use that mouth.

Grimmjow isn’t content with only kissing your lips either – whenever he tracked you down like this, he’d always leave you flushed and covered in marks, bites and hickeys all over your neck and collarbones, finger marks on your wrists and thighs, handprints littering your ass…you always looked like you’ve been ravished by a wild beast by the time he’s done with you.

Which, to be honest, isn’t exactly wrong…

Suddenly, though, Grimmjow pauses in his important task of marking you up, his face inches away from your throat, and nervousness swirls through your bloodstream.

“Um, Grimmjow?”

He doesn’t answer, instead he grabs your head to hold you still and breathes in deeply. His scowl deepens.

“Wha-at?” you say in a slight whine, his expression scaring you slightly. When he goes quiet, it tends to mean things have gotten serious.

“You stink.” Grimmjow responds bluntly, still nosing at your neck. “You don’t smell like you. You smell like…”

His lips pull back from his teeth in a snarl and your stomach lurches – something about how inhuman he looks with that bone fragment on his cheek sends a primal warning signal in your brain urging you to flee, even if you know you’d only get as far as he allowed you to. He does so love the thrill of the hunt.

Fuck.

“It’s – some guy just hugged me out of nowhere before I left, I didn’t-“ you babble immediately, even though you know you didn’t do anything wrong and you don’t have to explain yourself, but the silence is deafening and you find yourself talking just to fill it.

Grimmjow is hardly mollified by your rambling and in a blur, suddenly the darkness of a nearby alleyway engulfs you. Your back meets hard brick and he’d holding you up off the ground with ease by your hips, your entire body weight meaning nothing to him.

“Yeah?” he growls.

He seems personally offended and sets about correcting your little faux pas right then and there. His teeth sink into the tender flesh of your throat, making you cry out, the noise loud in the cool darkness. Grimmjow grins with approval as he spots the little dots of blood welling in the indents of his fangs.

“Fuck, that hurt!” you complain, smacking his chest with the back of your hand, which has all the effect of smacking a wall.

“Good.” He says, licking at the blood with an exaggerated flick of his tongue, holding eye contact with you as he does it, and you feel your face turn hot, well acquainted with exactly what that tongue can do.

“You fucking- mmm~“

Your words are drowned out by more kissing – all your lipstick and gloss will be gone by the time he’s done, Grimmjow tends to treat any flavouring you put on your lips as a topping to his favourite dessert.

Grimmjow leans forward and uses his mouth to tug your bra down, your tits pushed out in front of his face, and he wastes no time in lapping at them, nipping at the sensitive undersides of your breasts, apparently determined to leave as much markings as he possibly can over as much of your flesh as he can reach. His wicked tongue circles your nipples, teasing them until you're pulling on his wild mane of blue hair. He chuffs in approval at the sting in his scalp, leering up at you. He likes it rough when you fuck, even though there’s not much you can do to hurt him.

"Someone's impatient." he drawls, quirking an eyebrow.

"Stop teasing me." you complain, squirming against him, though you’re going nowhere and his fingers. "If you're going to do something, then do it!"

"Brat." he hisses at you, and he pulls you against him with one strong arm around your waist, cradling your body to him like a ragdoll, and lands a sharp smack to your ass that makes you yelp. He likes the sound so much that he does it again on the other cheek, laughing when your whole body jolts.

He likes it when you're a brat, though, because he still does as you requested, his tongue circling your sensitive nipples, sending little sparks of pleasure through you, though like with most things he does, he’s just a little too rough, leaving them throbbing before he pulls his mouth away to focus his attention on the other breast. He leaves little sharp nips to your flesh too, enjoying the soft squeaks it drives from your mouth – you’re so intoxicatingly sensitive, he’d play with your tits all day long if he could.

“Grimmjow, mm…” you hiss, and he smirks as a new scent reaches his nose – he knows your body so well he can smell it when you’re aroused, like a shark can scent blood from miles away. A sense of prideful satisfaction courses through him at how quickly he was able to make you wet, from something so simple, so easy as to just give your pretty tits some attention.

Of course, much as he loves them, they’re not the main thing he’s after.

He's hard already, his length straining against his fly, and he grins and slowly unzips with one hand, giving you a little show as your eyes follow the smooth movement of his hand, a sliver of his black boxers visible, before they’re pulled down too. Your stomach does a little flip as he palms his cock, a smug grin on his face.

“Like what you see, don’t you?” he says, amused. “Look what your slutty little dress has done to me.”

“It’s not slutty, it’s fun!” you protest, mortified he thinks you purposefully wore a slutty dress to a work event, though he isn’t exactly a good measuring stick for that - Grimmjow tends to find any clothing of yours that shows off your flesh to be provocative – you once wore a pair of shorts, not even hotpants or Daisy dukes, just a cute little cotton pair you have for the summer, and innocently walked past him and he responded by pouncing on you and fucking you until you could barely walk, let alone leave the house in them.

“Oh yeah? Then let’s have fun.” He leers at you and you have to admit you walked right into that one.

Azure eyes flick up and down your attire for a second, assessing the situation, before he simply grabs your tights and wrenches them apart, the sound of fabric tearing loud in the quiet and revealing your bare legs to the cold as you gasp in surprise. He tugs your panties impatiently aside, his fingers brushing up against your soaked core, teasing at your clit with a sinister smirk.

"Grimmjow, no, not here-!" you whine in protest, and he laughs cruelly.

"Yes, here," he replied, relishing in your embarrassment, adjusting your position and nudging his way between your legs, letting you sink onto the blunt head of his cock, and you groan as he lets you feel every inch of it bullying its way into your soaked cunt. "Unless you'd prefer I take you inside and fuck you in front of everyone?"

Your eyes fly open with fear, because you know it's no empty threat- Grimmjow cares nothing for social conventions, especially not the ridiculous confining rules humans go by. No doubt he'd love to bend you over in front of all your colleagues and make it very clear you were not on the dating market. You getting fired wouldn't be of much concern to him either - he'd see it as a win, getting to keep you all to himself and fuck you at his leisure.

"No, no, don't even think about it-!" you hiss at him, but you can't bite back the groan of pleasure as his hard cock brushes up against your sweetspot, feeling almost burning hot inside you with the cold air nipping at your thighs.

"Then shut up and take it like a good girl."

Not that he gives you much of a choice in the matter, but Grimmjow likes to watch you turn into a needy, whining, moaning mess beneath him, so he's never been stingy with your pleasure. He watches with rapt attention as he lifts you up and down off his cock like you're nothing more than his little personal fucktoy, his to move and manhandle as he sees fit. And yet, it feels so fucking good, to surrender yourself to the base pleasures after spending all day performing for other people.

He crushes his chest to yours, pinning you against the alleyway wall like a butterfly to a board, and your legs wrap around his waist without any further prompting, the heels of your boots kicking weakly against the leather of his jacket.

He fucks you rough and slow and deep, laughing harshly as a myriad of emotions flash across your face, your lipstick smeared around your mouth and sweat beading your forehead, giving your skin a sheen that’s more like a glow, something he loves to see on you. You look amazing in the moonlight, the silver glow falling across your skin like water, not like the garish brightness of the lights inside. The sparkling sequins on your dress flash in the moonlight as he bounces you up and down on the length of his cock, and you can feel heat engulfing you, you’re too hot in your coat now, your body throbbing with pleasure and damp with sweat. The lingering, acidic sting of any cologne that might have transferred onto you is long gone, replaced with the unmistakable musk of sex.

“That’s right – you’re mine.” He snarls at you, snapping his hips up and driving a keening noise from your throat – before you met Grimmjow you didn’t even know you could make sounds like this, you weren’t even particularly vocal in the bedroom, but he loved listening to you plead and gasp and lose yourself in the moment, so he’d keep going until he heard what he wanted to hear. “These tits are mine , this ass is mine and this pussy is mine. I makin’ myself clear?”

“Oh, fuck- yes-“ you groan, head swimming with booze and pleasure both, despite the back of your skull knocking against the bricks with every thrust, like a little drumbeat.

“Say it.” He snarls. “Or you don’t get to come.”

You whine in protest, but he rams his cock deep into you and your mouth drops open like a trapdoor, your voice sounding strangulated as you utter the words; “Yours, yours, ‘m all yours, Grimmjow, don’t stop-"

Raucously laughter greets your ears and he drops you down a couple of inches so he can fuck you even deeper and your vision fuzzes at he hits just right-

“Grimmjow, yes, fuck, right there, right there-“ you chant, you can vaguely hear your own voice echoing back at you in the alleyway but you’re too blinded with lust to give a fuck anymore, and Grimmjow nips your ear in approval, obliging you by pounding into you at a relentless pace, his cock pistoning in and out of your sopping cunt. You smell fucking incredible, like you but dialled up to a hundred, and with his own scent intertwined with it, he could get high off how good you smell right now.

“Thassit, good girl, good little slut.” He pants against your ear. “Nobody else fucks you just right, huh? Only me.”

“Only you, mmmh~”

Your thighs clench around him and he can feel you come, feel your walls clenching around his dick, your body trembling with the force of it. You muffle a cry of ecstasy against his shoulder, but he can hear you perfectly fine and holds you still, watching the look cross your features, panting and heavy-lidded and satisfied. It doesn’t take him too long to come after you do, and you can do nothing but take it as you feel him filling you up, your cunt still throbbing with aftershocks.

“Th-that…” you say, but the sentence fails to form, like a lightbulb sparking a few times before the fuse pops.

As the rushing sound in your ears begins to fade and the noise of your heavy breaths begin to die down – Grimmjow is barely winded, damn him, suddenly other sensations you’d blocked out in the throes of your impending orgasm. The uncomfortable, stifling heat of your coat, how your feet feel too tightly encase in your shoes, the roughness of the brick wall, Grimmjow’s strong arms wrapped tightly around you, one hand squeezing your ass…

And then, you hear someone saying your name, absolutely aghast, and you don't need to turn your head to see Kenji's shocked expression.

“Oh, shit.” You mumble, unable to think of anything else to sum up the situation.

Grimmjow, unbothered and in fact able to hear the clumsy human dipshit approaching a mile off, turns his head, looking down at the other man from his superior height like Kenji is no more than an insect he'd dearly love to squash. Then a smug, sinister grin splits across his face.

"She's busy." Grimmjow says, his fingers tightening around your flesh possessively, using his body to shield your debauched form from Kenji’s eyes – not so much out of modesty but more refusal to let the little asshole see even a glimpse of your perfect flesh, he won’t allow you to be tainted by having some nobody’s eyes on you. “And you ever put your fucking greasy hands on her again it’ll be the last time you have hands.”

Kenji stutters, not even saying words, just meaningless syllables, looking like a scared puppy, and he turns tail and flees. You whine in embarrassment, clutching Grimmjow’s jacket.

“He saw me!” He could get me busted for…public indecency!” you say, even though technically you were somewhat out of sight – Kenji really ought to exercise a bit more caution before he goes poking about in dark paths.

“I’ll push him into traffic.” Grimmjow offers, pushing your damp hair off your forehead and pressing a surprisingly tender kiss to your forehead – he only does stuff like this in his relaxed post-coital state, so you’ve learned to treasure them. “Make it look like an accident.”

He probably isn’t joking, but you chuckle anyway and give your head a fond shake.

“Let’s go home and I’ll think about it.”

“Mm.” he grunts, hitching you up a little higher, one arm around your waist, using the other to tuck himself back into his jeans. You try to right the front of your dress, though there’s no saving your tights, they’re naught but tattered rags on your legs now. “We’ve got a long night ahead anyway.”

Your eyes pop open wide and you look up at him, nearly nose-to-nose with him.

“Wh…what’d you say?” you ask, and Grimmjow cocks his head.

“Oh, you thought we were done?” Grimmjow says casually, grinning at the look on your face. “Heh. You call that bullshit in there a party, sweetheart? I’ll show you a real fuckin’ party.”

[clearlydiamondz]

Loyalty to Royalty

Erik!Stevens x OC

Part Six

- - - - - - - - - -  

Princess Imani was the black sheep of her family, never really fitting the female royal type. When an arranged marriage between Prince   N'Jadaka and her is set up, she tries her hardest to get away... but she just can’t.

Warning: Smut

- - - - - - - - - -  

The following morning, the sun hit through the window at just the perfect timing as the dawn light filled the room. Imani rolled over, immediately being faced with N'Jadaka in his bed. Noticing that they were both naked, a blush slowly started to creep her face.

To say how much different he was in bed versus not, it was like the sun and moon. He wouldn't dare disrespect her if she told him to go do something, there was no hesitance because there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for her. Outsiders may look within the relationship and assume that she was the one that took charge, and he listened to her.

Now, he established that when pushed to the limit, he can assert his dominance when needed. Honestly, that is what made Imani turned on by the man. One thing though, his tautness was shown in and out of bed, she didn't know if she hated it or it made her pussy wet... or both.

She grabbed her phone off of the nightstand, picking it up to see the time, it was about ten minutes till six in the morning. "Fuck." she groaned, knowing that they had a radio interview and an interview with one of the political channels. She sat up, yawning as she grabbed the covers, wrapping the white comforter over body before shaking Erik.

"It's time to wake up." she groaned. His snoring stopped but his eyes were still closed, not moving at all as he stayed damn near dead. She rolled her eyes, pushing the covers off his body, almost regretting it as he was experiencing morning wood. She couldn't help but stare at it, almost wanting to touch it but wasn't sure if he would enjoy it.

"If you gonna look at it, you might as well touch it." he groaned as she looked back at him in shock.

"I wasn't-"

"You sure you wanna sit up here and lie?" he asked peaking his eyes open, placing his hands behind his head. She kissed her teeth, trying not to make it noticeable that she was indeed intrigued by his situation downstairs. He sat up against the headboard, as he grabbed her putting him onto his lap she let out a groan, feeling his dick against her thigh.

"Jadaka, we gotta get ready.." she started to moan as he laid kisses on the side of her neck, tracing his back with his hands.

"Mhmm, I know. I can make it quick." he said, reaching between the two and rubbing her clit with his thumb. "Pretty please." he looked up at her, circling his tongue around her exposed nipple.

"Fuuck..." she closed her eyes almost giving in. "No." she jumped off of him as he raised an eyebrow at her. She chuckled angrily at herself as she turned down some more good dick, but she knew what she had to do. "You are soo.." she couldn't even finish her sentence as he smirked at how bad she was struggling. "Ugh. Just get ready." she looked on the ground for some clothes as he smiled at her struggling. Finding a T-Shirt on the ground, she put it on, cursing herself for not having any underwear. Grabbing her things, he grabbed her hand before kissing her on the lips, before he depended the kiss.

"At least lemme get a taste of that pussy before you leave." he whispered at her as she gasped. He raised an eyebrow with a smirk, as she bit her lip.

"Jadaka.." she trailed off as a warning.

"What, you gave me a taste of that sweet pussy and expect me not to want it? You keeping that pretty pussy from me?" he asked her tilting his head, smiling at her. Just like clock worth, she placed her phone on the desk. The throb that she felt in her pussy now, she needed more than just that.

She got back on the bed, sitting on his thighs as she spat on his dick and rubbed it in. "What you about to do?" he asked, intrigued by her actions. She didn't say anything, as she hovered over his dick slowly inserting herself.

"There you go, just take this dick." he moaned as she put her feet flat beside him, grabbing the head board and going to work. If all he had to do was talk nasty to her to make her give up her goodness, this was gonna be one hell of a ride.

With her being turned on by him, and him being damn near a professional freak, they would just be going at it.

The herb didn't help either... for either of them.

"Oooh.." she gasped, feeling him a lot more deeper. "Fuck, I feel you in my stomach." she moaned, gilding along him nice and slowly. She was still sensitive from the night before, as they went at it for hours.

"Freaky ass, all I gotta do is beg your lil nasty ass." he asked her as she nodded. "Answer me." he smacked each of her ass cheeks.

"Fuck yes, Jadaka! Fuck!" She went about in circular motions with her hips as she bounced, Erik looking at her in complete shock.

"There you go. Making daddy feel so fucking good." he smacked her ass again. She fell onto her knees as he laid on his back still into her. She then continued to bounce her ass on his dick, the clapping noises heard in the room as he matched her rhythm.

"Fuck you got some good pussy on you girl." he grunted smacking her ass multiple times. Sure enough, there was going to most definitely be marks on her ass with the way Erik was obsessed with it. She reached behind her as she spread her ass cheeks and pussy as Erik moaned in her ear.

"Yeahhh that's right. Spread that pussy for daddy, damn." he groaned into her ear. If only he could see what they looked like from the back.

It was almost like she read his mind, because she stopped her movements and turned around with his dick still inside. Getting back into position, with her elbows propped between his legs, she started to bounce her again. From the view alone Erik knew he was going to bust. The way her wetness coded his dick, how her pussy tugged every time she would come back up. She spread her ass cheeks for him again as he groaned.

"You like watching my pussy fuck this dick daddy.." she moaned.

"Fuuck you gonna make daddy cum.. keep fucking going." he grunted, fucking back into her.

"Ooh daddy, give me the nut please.." she moaned.

"Fuuck." he pulled out, jerking his dick as his cum spread about her ass. Grunting, she grabbed one of the towels but before she could clean herself up, Erik was standing and had her on the edge of the bed on her.

"Jadaka wait I- oohhh my Godd." she moaned as he slammed inside of her, fucking her at a fast pace. "Daddy...." she moaned out. He grabbed her hair making her look at his dick go inside of her.

"Look how pretty that pussy look taking my dick." he whispered as her eyes started to close. "Aht aht, open those fucking eyes. Lemme look at you when you cum on my dick." he said as she opened her eyes to look at him.

"Sexy fucking ass, you not going no where." he grunted. He let her hair go, as his hands found their way back to her clit. His words mixed with this pace had her squirting all over his torso. He pulled out as her legs started to shake, he picking her up and taking her to the showers.

- - - - - - - - - -  

"Welcome Prince Erik and Princess Imani." The radio hose Sean stated as she smiled at him.

"Just Imani and Erik is fine." Imani spoke up with a smile on her face.

"Ooh okay miss humble, we love to see it." his co-host Kaitlyn stated as they chuckled. They were on the Brunch's Club Podcast / Radio, one of the most famous podcasts within the black community. Everyone around the nation was tuning into the Prince and Princess first radio interview, or first interview at all here in America.

"So I just want to ask you Erik, you come from someone like a background like me. Foster kid, on the streets, doing what you have to do to survive. How has this change, damn near everything for you?" Sean asked him.

"I mean really.. it's a like a ghetto fairy tale." he said as everyone laughed. "But nah, really, it's a lot, you know. I grew up not really having anything, and then I built my businesses over the years and let them grow, now I'm here. Honestly, it's a blessing." he stated as Sean nodded.

"And Imani-" he stopped himself looking around. "Gotta make sure ain't no snipers finna blow my head off for not saying Princess." he said making her laugh.

"Nahh, they wouldn't let them in." she said as his face dropped. "I'm joking.." she stated as Kaitlyn laughed.

"Nigga really got scared."

"Y'all ain't see those ladies outside with the spears and shit? Fuck around my head may be just on the end of one. I ain't never been so scared of a bunch of women before except my mother and my wife." he said making the room laugh. "Alright alright, but how does it feel to date someone that never really grew up in this lifestyle?" he asked her.

"Honestly it feels no different with someone like him. I feel like, he already has the spirit of wanting to help people and that's one quality that I want for a king for my nation , and he is a natural leader, so he really didn't have really much to prove." she stated looking at him as he smiled at her.

"Awe y'all are so cute... so how'd did this happen." Kaitlyn asked gushing over the too.

"She ain't like me." "Oh I couldn't stand him."

They both said at the same time as the hosts looked at them in shock. "What! Oh my god!" Kaitlyn exclaimed. "I thought it was gonna be some cute sappy shit like, you tripped and he caught you and it was instant love at first sight. why didn't you like him.. I mean I am curious because-" she looked at Imani with a 'do you not see him' look making her a chuckle. She most

"It's really just he caught me at a bad time. I had just got into an argument with my dad, you know how that goes, there was just some personal stuff so when I met him, like I was already mad. He really just icked a nerve that specific day in the specific hour." she stated looking at him.

"Yeah.. had to fix that real quick." Erik smirked as she rolled her eyes.

"Oop." Kaitlyn said sipping her water looking between the two.

"Aye, y'all let's keep it PG," Sean stated with a chuckle.

"Man not like that." he smacked his teeth then laughed. "She caught herself having a lil attitude and I just.. called her out?" he said in a more question tone.

"Ooh you must've hated that." Sean smirked at.

"Don't remind me." she said flipping her dreads over her shoulder as they laughed. "But really, that was the kinda reality check I needed though, especially because I realized that we were kind of having issues that we could relate to, so I was like you know what? Let me just get to know him and stop being an asshole. It went from that, to this." she responded looking at him smiling.

"So I know back in the States, you've had past relationships with some people, how has that changed now that you are basically a part of one of the richest royal families in the world?" Sean asked Erik as he sighed.

"I have had a lot of people, try to like, hit me up about it. Some congratulating me, don't really know what I'm being congratulated on. " he said honestly. "But I most definitely had a few folks try to play clout chaser." he responded. Imani agreed at the statement, immediately thinking about Arianna.

"Yeah, like Arianna Cope? Her tweets about Imani is just so outta place it's weird." Kaitlyn responded as Imani looked at her confused.

"What tweets?" she asked as the two hosts looked at her confused.

"Girl, she been damn near sub-tweeting you everyday since y'all dropped the receipts about the editing recording." she said pulling out her phone. Imani looked at Erik confused, but he had the same look of confusion.

With how on top of things she was about anything that either had or Erik's name in the press, this was news to her. Then again, it wasn't really the pressed. Kaitlyn handed her the phone, looking at the search bar where Imani's name were to find tweets with it.

"Yeah, some of her supporters were calling you scary and shit because you wouldn't respond." Sean said leaning back in his chair.

"Oh my-" she said looking at all the tweets negatively bashing her. She handed it back, before she laughed. Even some tears escaping.

''What's funny?" Sean asked confused as the burst of laughter.

"No it's sad but it's funny at the same time because she's just arguing with herself." she said as Erik shook his head laughing while covering his face.

"So you don't care that she's talking about you?" Kaitlyn asked. Imani wiped her tears off before saying,

"Look, I don't mean this in a shady or be disrespectful towards her, but in all reality, I have a lot of more important things to worry about then engaging with her issues with me." she spoke.

"Like running an entire country." Erik said drinking out of his water bottle.

"Exactly. To be fair, I have a lot more other people, Important people may I add, that doesn't like me like rulers of other countries because of our political stance and honestly, those are the ones that I care more about if I do care at all." she stated as Sean nodded.

"Aye, that's valid." he stated. "Especially after she tried to set y'all up, the fact that's what she's mad about is instance to me." Sean replied

"And she's the only girl that I've dated who is this obsessed with us speaks more about her then it does us. Obviously, I'm not going to sit here and be lied on, putting what we have and what we are trying to build on the line. Like look at her, you think Ima mess this up?" Erik said looking her up and down with a smirk as she blushed rolling her eyes.

"Aye that's what I'm talking about."

Even though the circumstances weren't clear and through as she spoke, it surprised her honestly how far Erik's and her relationship did. She remembered how she would tell herself that this was just for the sake of her people, realizing that T'Challa was most definitely right.

You could mix pleasure with business.

- - - - - - - - - -

"Alright, last interview." Imani stated sitting at the desk looking at Erik. "Ready?" she asked him. As this was one of the more serious ones, talking about there supply change.

The host, Nathaniel Carter, hosted a republican channel on Fox News. He and his other hosts were very open around the fact that America should be the country to handle the supply chain of Vibranium, and not some random country in Africa.

Colonizers.. am I right?

"Sorry I'm a tad bit late." Nathaniel replied as Imani looked at him and smiled. "It happens to us all, it's nice to finally meet you, Mr. Carter." she said sticking her hand out for him to shake as he shook it.

"Nathaniel will do fine, Princess Imani." he stated

"Well then just Imani will do just fine." she smiled at him. He was caught by surprised by how well spoken she was, even how nice she was too. He then introduced himself to Erik with him shaking his hand.

"First thing first, thank you for your service in our military Stevens." Nathanial stated , emphasizing on the our. Erik nodded with a forced smile. "Quite the entourage you got here." Nathanial looked around to see the Dora Milije posted around the set.

"Don't mind them. Just here four our protection, kind of like the secret service." Erik stated as Nathanial sat across from them.

"We good to go?" he asked the producers as they gave him a thumbs up.

"Welcome back to another political segment where we have the next heir to the Kamado Nation, Miss Imani and Mr. Erik. " he stated as they waved at the camera.

"So I was just doing some basic research on the two of you just so I could get a view point and you two may I say have a very interesting academic record. Miss Imani you graduated top of your class at Oxford University and you Erik graduating at the top of your class at MIT. Yet, you guys are so young." he stated as Erik nodded.

"Well our thrive for education and learning subdue our age so it seems." Imani stated.

"So Erik, your new to this life style right, growing up on the streets of Oakland. What are your plans for when you rule as King?" Nathaniel asked him. Imani didn't let it show that the question was only directed towards him, but Erik being who he was answered,

"Well for us, we have been really focusing on the youth of our country, building more schools and outreach programs to enhance their learning and education." Erik stated.

"Also, we are working on some environmental plans. We have been having conversations with Wakanda's environmental specialist on cutting down CO2 emissions and hopefully help other countries also since we do have the resources." Imani stated.

"Interesting, and how about your military? There has been conversations of you guys have been building your military terrain." he asked Erik but Imani spoke up.

"Our military both navy, air force and army have had an increase that is true. This is pretty normal for our countries when there is a shift of power. Only because there has been times in countries in Africa where there has been a shift of change, European countries tended to try and interfere." she stated as Erik spoke up.

"It's just something that has been affected from the past that still is present in our present and most likely our future." Erik said as Nathaniel looked at Imani. "Our military was made out of around 5,542,000 people when King Z'Kiri the throne back in 1979." he told him.

"By the time I heir the throne, it should be up to almost 8 million. Small yes, but very mighty."

"You seem to know a lot about your countries military's." Nathanial looked at her. "It's not every day we see a princess your age so interested in their military." he finished.

"Well Nathanial, I don't have a choice. We have people that we need to protect and we also have resources that needs protection. So knowing these things are essentially important." she reminded him, he then looked at Erik.

"So how do you feel that the potential queen is handling this type of information. You know, because your the only one that's been in the military between the two." Imani knew it was a jab at her intelligence, but she knew Erik would handle it.

"Honestly, I would rather have that then a queen who doesn't know nothing. A queen who doesn't know nothing and is only there to look pretty can cause more damage. I love that she is passionate about these things, because it's not like America where you have the president, and the first-lady is just there showing appearances every once in a while." Erik stated.

"In countries like ours, Queens are just as important as our Kings." Imani added

"Kings are just the male versions of Queens in Wakanda and Kambaho." Erik finished. She looked at him impressed with that statement.

"So Erik, what makes her qualified to be queen?" he asked him.

"The question really is what makes her not qualified. She has studied the history of ancient and modern war-fare, she is precise and makes every decision planned out to a T, she courageous and very smart. Honestly the true question is what makes me qualified to be King?" he chuckled as she chuckled at the last statement.

"If I can speak-" she said sitting up in her chair. "I feel like, there has been a history of royals across the globe over the past centuries that blind our sights on what is fairytale and what is truth. I know you don't mean it, but I can't help but feel like you don't think I deserve to have this authority because of what I have between my legs or the year I was born but truth be told, none of the latter matters." she stated. Nathanial squinted his eyes at her then back before saying,

"It's just some might say that you are too young to be making decisions like these. For example, the situation with vibranium?"

Bingo.. there it is.

"What about it?" Erik and her said at the same thing.

"Well for starters, vibranium from my own research is the strongest material on Earth, yet two small countries in the middle of Africa is handling. Don't you think it should be trusted with a country that has a high military performance versus that?" he asked as she shrugged.

"I mean, you answered your question. Vibranium should not be used as a weapon but it should be used for growth. Yet, we know that if vibranium makes their way into America, it would be used as such. Just like any other resource." Imani stated as Nathaniel scoffed.

"Are those spears that your guards are holding not made out of vibranium. Looks pretty deadly to me."

"Yeah well you don't really see Wakandians going around using weapons against other nations, because they won't share their resources." Erik said matter of factly.

"Look. the country of Kambaho is willing to use our resources to help countries in need. No matter the cost. But- the fact of the matter is is that we are not willing to give our most prized resource to anyone." Imani stated.

"Well also, vibranium can also be used because of it's healing properties. What you're saying is that you wouldn't give countries the chance of receiving proper health care because of the fear of violence?" he asked, Imani laughed.

"That's rich coming from America, don't you think?" she asked tilting her head. "If you care so much about the 'health' of your citizens, why charge $800 USD for insulin, something that could potentially save their life. Why are parents making go-fund me's for their child to get a tumor removed. Why is a simple ride to the hospital almost $1000 dollars? Why is it a woman have to pay $50000 dollars just to give life here?" she asked.

"Companies too have to profit to-"

"Profits when it comes to the care of our citizens don't exist. Our citizens do not have to worry about the cost of healthcare because health care is provided." Imani stated, Nathaniel quiet trying to come back with a retaliation point. He almost did, but Erik stole the words out of his mouth.

"Now it's easy for a country like us to provide care for our citizens due to the size and the resources that we do have. But in actuality, if America is the strongest country in the world, shouldn't the strongest country in the world be able to provide for their citizens?" he asked. Nathaniel knew he was loosing this debate, so he decided to take another jab but instead of at Imani, it was at Erik.

"That say a lot from someone who use to fight for our military in the black ops unit. Some might call you a trader to this country." he spat out, Erik chuckled.

"Listen, when you are a young black man in America, coming out of foster care with nothing to your name there is a possibility that your life will end up in prison or dead. Joining the military was a last result so I didn't end up either. As a black op solider who has seen some.. very traumatic things to trust and believe. I'd be a fool to decide to give the deadliest weapons to America."

- - - - - - - - - -

Just like clock work, Imani sat in the living quarters of the suit reading the results from their interview with Sean and Kaitlyn.

"Princess Imani and Prince Erik seems to be our next power couple. Literally putting the power in the statement, the two of them will become rulers of one of the most powerful countries the world has ever faced. So, you guys what are our opinions on them." she was watching one of the drama channels on one of the networks here in America.

"Honestly, I think they are so adorable. I will be honest though, they didn't really give me much royalty vibes, and that's not anything bad. They were relatable and I feel like a lot of politicians and people of higher power lack that." One of the hosts Sabrina said.

"I don't know, personally I feel like they are trying too hard to be relatable. Like I can understand Erik since he didn't come from that lifestyle, but for Imani, it seems forced you know?" Tyler stated. "But she is most definitely a cutie."

"You know what, that's understandable. But I think it's more of her being humble because we really aren't use to celebrities', especially royalty being as humble as her. " Sabrina stated as he nodded.

"She's most def humble. But can we talk about about she ate Nathanial Carter up?" Tyler laughed as Sabrina joined in. "Sis came with receipts, stats, and was very out spoken. My sis was not playing around." he snapped his fingers.

"Talking about that, she has most gotten a lot of heat from republican senators, and really just the republican party." Sabrina stated.

"Duh, of course. She spoke facts. To be honest, let's say they are willing to give America vibranium for its healing properties, we charge an arm and a leg just for the basic medication. The hell do you think they gonna do with vibranium?"

"Man turn this off." Erik stated turned off the T.V as she glared at him. "I was watching that." she said to him as she rolled her eyes.

"Stop worrying about what everybody else gotta say to us. We did good." he comforted her. She nodded before sighing. "Our last night in America... what you wanna do?" he asked her.

"Honestly, all this running around, I just want to stay in." she replied, he smirked at her.

"Of course. I can make you some dinner." he kissed her neck as she closed her eyes falling into the feeling. "Give you a massage." he gave her another kiss at the bottom of the ear. "Maybe even eat-"

"Okay N'Jadka!" she exclaimed pushing him. "Goodness gracious." she blushed as he smirked at her. The switch from how dominant she is in real life versus how submissive she is in private. He most definitely was taking advantage of this.

_____________________

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[ashintheairlikesnow]

how might finn be doing on this fine evening?

CW: Unreliable narrator, memory issues as a result of trauma, emotional manipulation, gaslighting (or is it?) referenced captivity (or implied captivity of a different kind, depending on how you read it)...

Death Valley

-

North Carolina, Present Day

Wind blew with a knife edge around the rest area, and Finn hunched his shoulders against its bite as he sat, watching Little Mother stalking with single minded precision across the grass. What she was hunting, he had no idea, but she was intent on its capture.

"Take care, Mütterchen," He called out. "Do not go too far."

One of her rabbit-soft ears flicked, the only sign she heard him. Her tail shifted sinuous through the grass, back and forth, back and forth, as she moved with her belly nearly to the ground. Her kittens gamboled around beside him, staying where Finn's body and the bulk of his truck hid them from the worst of the cold. Little Mother trusted him to keep them safe for her while she wandered, and Finn did his best to be worthy of that trust. He dragged a little string along the ground, coaxing the kittens into stalking it, batting at it with paws that had more enthusiasm than aim.

Overhead, heavy gray clouds threatened to finally unleash the sleet the radio had been promising was coming. They hung so low the wisps of them seemed to hover just above the ancient rounded mountains that stretched all around him. If he stood, he could reach up and nearly touch them, feel wisps of damp chill around his fingertips. The rest stop was perched on the top of a mountain itself, the highest point in the state supposedly. There'd been a plaque over by the building.

Finn remembered, in a vague and foggy way, that he had hiked up younger mountains once, with jagged peaks that seemed sharp enough to slice apart the stars at night. He'd gone with friends of his, and a girl he sometimes fooled around with.

Then he'd left for his American holiday, just after, promising he'd show her photos when he got back.

He never came back.

His mother had gotten the film from his little disposable cameras, developed the photos. He'd seen his own smiling face in a photo another tourist had taken of him standing, framed by the Badwater Basin salt flats. Schneider's last photo on the camera found in the wreckage of his vehicle.

Even if he hadn't made it back home to show her, he supposed Anja would have seen all the photos that were released to the public by now. Had she married? Had Anja found herself a husband, had children, built herself the normal life she'd dreamed of? Had she forgotten all about some silly, enthusiastic boy in her class who had once kissed her breathless in a tent with their noses both frozen from the outside chill?

He put his fingers to his lips, but he couldn't remember how kissing her had felt, not anymore. Robert had painted over it all with this slime-slick touch, the smell of decay and lemon-scented cleaner fighting for dominance.

Any passing attraction Finn felt for anyone anymore was only a brief flash of something warm before the memory of Robert froze over him, shattered him all over again.

Children giggled somewhere nearby, a family ushering distracted little ones with too much energy for their tiny size into the building. Would those children know who to run from, if they needed to? Would they know not to trust the friendly smile of a stranger, not to take their own water bottle if he had touched it?

Would they-

"You didn't tell me you got a cat," Noah said from off to the side, and Finn dropped his hand, muscles tensing. He stopped pulling the string, and the kittens set up a chorus of meows, angry that their game had come to such a sudden end. One of them hissed in Noah's direction, tiny fangs bared. "Or...multiple cats."

"Mütterchen," Finn answered, gruffly, gesturing to where Little Mother had gone a few feet away. "She came to stay with me and had the kittens." He didn't look up, even as his heart began to beat faster, heavy inside his chest. "It is nice to have company, driving."

"No doubt." Noah, without asking, dropped to sit right next to him, nearly brushing Finn's left arm with his right. Finn tensed, shifting just enough to put a little space between them again. "Mütterchen, that's cute. What's it mean? Mother-... mother-hen?"

"Little Mother." Finn hated that Noah knew it now, that it felt like simply explaining it to him ruined the fragile love he had for her name. "Why are you here?"

"You turned your phone back on." Noah was looking at him - Finn could feel the weight of his eyes, even though he refused to give him anything in return. His voice was low, outwardly worried. "I told you to stay here, and I came to you. Do you... not remember that conversation?"

Sometimes Finn forgot things. Whole days, entire conversations, events... his memory came and went as it pleased, and only his time with Robert remained clearly etched into his mind, as much as the scars were carved eternally into his skin. Noah sounded concerned for him, but... Finn bristled, anyway. Something felt false in the tone, like he was acting.

Of course he was acting.

He was just upset the Mouse had been hiding in the walls, on the road, where he couldn't find him.

Finn cleared his throat. "No, this I know. I know we spoke, Noah, I did not forget, but. Why did you want to meet me?"

"Why? Finn-" Noah groaned, exasperated. "Come on. You up and vanished, man. Why was your phone off for a week, huh? Your phone, laptop... everything. The GPS in your truck, even. You could have been hurt, or dead, or in a cage somewhere again-"

Finn had to swallow the rising spike of panic at the idea. He could have been, couldn't he? And no one would know, once again no one would know. Just like before.

Noah leaned forward, his voice soft and sweet and sad. "What happened to you? What have you been doing?"

Finn had spent days bundled in the tent, watching the kittens and feeling warm down to his bones even with the icy chill outside. Inside the tent, they kept warm, he, Little Mother, and her kittens. He cooked ready-to-eat meals on a campfire in a pot that he washed using water from a stream. He'd felt entirely, perfectly alone. It had been wonderful.

Had Noah been worried that he was dead?

Guilt gnawed, even as half of him was sure it hadn't been worry but anger that Finn wasn't under his thumb, if he couldn't reach him and follow him and track him and-

And keep him-

"I wanted some time to myself," He muttered, hardly able to get the volume up to be heard. "That is all."

"Right." Noah sighed. "Yeah, no, take whatever time off you want, you know you're helping me out with transporting the, uh, the cargo to be sure, but... Finn." Noah paused. Finally, Finn cut a glance to the side, barely meeting those falsely warm, kind, soft eyes and that slight smile with his own solid closed-off nothingness. "Finn, look at me."

When his gaze didn't stick, Noah reached out and took him by the chin with his gloved hands, forcing him to make eye contact. Finn's muscles locked in a sudden burst of fear but he didn't move. He didn't dare move.

He always froze, for Robert.

"You can't turn that shit off," Noah said, voice low and soft. Poison underneath the velvet, Finn knew all about it. Fury under the false worry. Robert could speak so sweet and kind like that, and then beat him until he broke a rib and feel nothing. "I get worried when I don't know where you've gone off to. You get lost, Finn, and you and I both know it. You get lost in your head, you forget where you are or what you've been doing. You forget how to call for help. You forget everything."

Finn found himself trembling, fighting to stay still. The kittens pushed against his fingers and he pet them with numb hands, a little too roughly, staring at Noah because the other man hadn't yet let go and he didn't dare pull away. "I, I don't-... so much anymore-"

"You do." Noah's voice dipped, became firmer. "You still do. Don't lie to me." He let go, patting Finn's face briefly, and then looked down at one little kitten who had pushed against his leg, letting his fingers dangle so the little one could bat at them. "Remember when the, uh-" He glanced sidelong to see if anyone was paying attention to them, but no one was. "Remember when the runaways had to call me because you forgot how to use a phone? Just sat in the truck's cab talking to yourself for hours? When you kept trying to dial German phone numbers?"

Finn kept his eyes on the ground, feeling a blush heat his face even as he hunched his shoulders to hide it. "... I remember that they took the phone away and called you."

"And you spent months in the little house I rented for you barely able to even remember to brush your own teeth-"

"That was many years ago, Noah, when I first was sold to you-"

"Ssshhh! Even aside from that, what about just a few months ago, when you kept watching crime docs on Netflix and had nightmares for weeks on end and stopped answering to anything but Mouse?"

Finn stiffened, and his hands went up to hold his head as he dropped it, fingers digging into his short hair, eyes closed against heat he refused to acknowledge was tears. His head began to ache, a low pounding throb behind his temples. "Stop," He whispered, but Noah wasn't done.

Noah never stopped.

No one ever stopped because Finn asked them to, or begged, or pleaded...

"If you don't want to work, then stop working," Noah continued, putting a hand up to rub at Noah's back, circling and circling his palm, sending shudders of discomfort down Finn's spine. "Do whatever you want. I don't care, it's fine, you can even keep using the truck. But I'm not drowning in money, and I can't keep giving you cash if you're not doing your job, if you just stop contacting me and I can't even see where you are. I'm not rich, Finn. This isn't a lucrative business, saving people. You're a huge help to me, and I'm grateful for that. But... you can't keep making me worry about you and then acting like I don't have the right, after everything I've done for you. It's cruel, don't you think? You're like a brother to me, and when you just go off the grid for a week, I get so worried, and I don't deserve that. Not after the years I've taken care of you."

Finn watched Little Mother pounce, but she must not have caught her prey. Her tail twitched in dismayed annoyance, and she turned to look at him. He watched her eyes go to Noah. Back to him. Finn swallowed, barely daring to breathe, to move, not even daring to speak. His heart hammered inside of him, sweat stuck his sweater to his back beneath his coat.

"I don't have any identification that's real here," Finn muttered, voice weak. "I can't get a job that is not cash under tables. I-I have no passport, even-... Robert-"

"He took your passport, I know. And if you keep working for me, that's not a problem, I'll take care of you," Noah said, shifting to soothing. He patted Finn on the back and then dropped his hand, leaving crawling goosebumps like ripples in a pond, rolling out disgust over Finn's body. "If you don't want to do this anymore, that's fine. Strike out on your own, go with God, have my blessings, whatever. But I can't just... pay for you for everything forever. Everyone has to earn their keep, around here."

Robert used to say that all the time. Earn your keep. Finn earned his keep, as Robert's Mouse, on his knees or his back or his stomach or listening to the screams from the basement with the muzzle locking his jaw tightly closed, he couldn't even scream with them-

He shivered, shaking his head. "I do not want to stop," He whispered, lips barely moving. "I-I have nowhere to go, no one... I took a week off, Noah, that is all. Just a week-"

"You can take a week off whenever you want." Noah stood, brushing his hands down his thighs as if getting rid of some invisible dust. "Let me know first, and I'll make sure you have no work to do. But if you turn off your phone and your GPS again, I'm going to assume that means you quit, and I'll cancel your phone line and your debit card. So make sure I know where you are. Got it?"

Finn didn't look up. He held Little Mother's gaze as she moved closer to him, her tail a question mark, rubbing her face against his leg and giving a soft, curious meow.

"Hey." Noah nudged his other leg with his boot, and Finn flinched as if he'd been struck. "Oh, man. Hey, don't be like that." Noah softened once more - or his voice did. Finn didn't look up to see his expression. "I just want to know you hear me. I can't spend all my time worrying about you. Make sure I know where you are, from here on out. No exceptions. None. Understood?"

Finn swallowed. His throat felt like it had closed, like his heart had filled it with too much fear to speak. But he managed to whisper, "I understand, Noah."

"Good. I have a job to do here, a couple people to pick up and take to Vermont. You take a couple days to think about our conversation. I expect a call at 8 pm on Thursday, no later than that. If you don't call, I'll assume you quit and act accordingly. Stay safe."

He walked away, and Finn let him go, sitting in the smallest ball he could make of himself, listening to the happy people laughing and chatting around him as they took in the mountain views on every side.

Noah had Finn's passport.

He was sure of it - he was sure he remembered Robert handed it over when he sold Finn to him, when Robert's little Mouse was handed from one man's care to the next, silent and shivering through the experience.

But by the time he'd found the courage to ask, Noah had said there hadn't been any passport, just the title to the truck changing hands.

But Finn remembered it.

Then again, Finn remembered things that hadn't happened all the time, now. He forgot things that had happened, or that would happen. Noah was right, he barely remembered anything, really. Maybe that was something that hadn't happened, too.

Maybe...

But he was so sure, and the memory was so clear...

"Komme, Mütterchen," He said, pushing himself to his feet on wobbling legs. Little Mother and her kittens reluctantly allowed him to put them back into the truck, one by one. He made sure his phone was on and charging, his laptop, checked the GPS that was installed. Just as Noah told him to.

Good little Mouse, closing the door to his own cage.

At least, Finn thought, Noah's cage was so much larger than Robert's had been.

Even if it still wasn't freedom.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Hi! Would you be able to write a Gangle x reader where the reader is a rabbit mechanic and stands up for her against Jax?

Gangle x bunny!mechanic!reader who stands up for her!

only going to answer a small handful of request tonight! admin recently started taking melatonin again to help with his sleep and OOOOO it has been a hot minute since hes used them + he was making christmas cookies today and hes a lil tired eheh bunny on bunny violence/j

loves when your ears twitch when youre confused... or..

when youre deep in thought and/or concentration while youre working on a new gadget, i think that would be cute...

you do mechanical stuff, and gangle helps with cosmetics, sometimes! very nice, you guys combining your interests together to make something! very cute!

yoinking this idea from an itward post, but you make her metal roses.... idk theres just something about that concept thats so. sweet to me. they wont wilt, like normal roses, and they cant easily be destroyed or be crushed. a reflection of how you feel for this ribbon person

even if you didnt stand up for her, gangle would find herself hovering around you as she associates you as a person of comfort

but when you actually speak out against jax's actions towards her?

oh honey shes over the moon, in love even... i mean sure i do think at least one of the circus members would stand up for her (ragatha is the first to come to mind, but also admin likes to hc that kinger and gangle is like. grandpa/grand daughter dynamic, so he might do it too...) but theres something about the way you get so defensive over her

not just a simple "knock it off" or "leave her alone"

no you really put your foot down, and depending on how much force you put behind it, jax might even stop bullying gangle.... at least not while youre around.... but hey its better than him still having the nerve to do it all the time...!

keeps all of the gadgets and trinkets youve made for her on a desk and/or some shelves, keeps them in nice condition and keeps them dusted

....can.... things get dusty in the digital world...?

boom self projection, gangle is too nervous to use the gifts because shes scared shes going to break them or lose them. youre going to have to reassure her

holds

[oboetemasuka]

Order of Attack (part 7)

And the visits conclude. Amane finally returns! I'll add parts 6 and 7 to AO3 later today.

New content warnings for sleep paralysis and suffocation.

Depending on how you judge it, this part could be more intense than part 1 (the initial attack) and/or part 3 (the medical care). Namely because there's no discretion shot this time.

Let me know if I need to add more warnings. Am I still in bounds for a teen rating? Does this go beyond canon-typical violence?

It's all because I had a bout of sleep paralysis the morning before I wrote this...

(I wrote all the names down with the surnames first, and then I had to flip the order when I typed it up to be consistent)

-

Fuuta opened his eyes to a much redder cell. He didn't think it was strange for whatever reason. But Shidou wasn't there. Probably checking on Amane. He's finally left me like I thought he would. Fuuta tried to turn his head, but it wouldn't move. Huh? He tried his right hand. No luck. Suddenly, he was worried that the position of his neck was cutting off his air, but he just. could. not. move.

The door rattled. Was Shidou coming back? Hurry up and help me. Please… I can't breathe…

Or was it Amane this time? He hoped it was Amane. He got the feeling that Shidou had been trying to keep her away from him ever since she approached him without an eyepatch. Sure, it was off-putting to see her misaligned, unmoving eye, but it wasn't like she was going to do anything to him.

Fuuta was so lost in thought that he didn't catch who the figure was until the red glare bore into his eyes. Kotoko.

"Fuuta Kajiyama. You managed to evade judgement once." 

Evade? What the hell is she on about? She did a damn thorough job. 

"If only Amane Momose hadn't walked in when she did. Then I could have ensured that you'd never wake up again." 

You shut up about Amane… he wanted to say, but then Kotoko leaned in, putting all her weight on his ribs. The broken bones dug into Fuuta's lungs, and he tried in vain to scream.

"Of course I had to deal with Amane before she could alert anyone and put an end to my justice. Besides, Milgram had declared her unforgivable too, so I was just taking the opportunity to get my work done sooner."

She's just a kid! Why would you break her like that?

As if reading his thoughts, Kotoko continued, "I wasn't going to spare her just because she's a kid. You would know a thing or two about that."

How did you know… I didn't even mean for that girl to die!

"I'd say we are just the same, except the warden has forgiven me and not you. Unlike you, I seek out evildoers rather than hiding behind a screen like a coward."

That's right… I'm a coward… but at least I wouldn't have gone up to that girl and… and…

Fuuta's vision fell into a blurry haze. Kotoko's words dissolved into faint echoes.

"The world will be better off without scum like you. Goodbye, Fuuta Kajiyama."

…

"Fuuta Kajiyama." Upon hearing those words, Fuuta opened his eyes and gasped. A pain shot through his chest, much more real than what Kotoko inflicted on him. Oh, that was just a dream. Would Kotoko have really said those things? As the real world regained its shape, Fuuta found a green form hovering over him.

"Oh… just you… again…" He had never been more relieved to see Amane, but he couldn't let her know that. "Why… just to pity…"

"I'm just observing. Like usual." She was wearing the eyepatch this time.

"Your eye…"

"Oh, this? If it keeps Shidou Kirisaki away, then I'll wear it. So be it."

Fuuta was at a loss of words for once. What could he even say to this girl who was suffering because of him? She might never see out of her right eye again, all because she went to visit him that day. If she hadn't, she would have been completely out of the way. Out of Kotoko's line of attack.

Amane was babbling again, but Fuuta could tell she cared. She still cared. If he had been in her place, he didn't know if he could bring himself near anyone who was linked to such a traumatic event. And he knew she wasn't visiting because she felt bad. She was always direct. She could be rather confusing at times, but at least she wasn't mincing words around him. If anything, she seemed to have become more curt since the attacks. Speaking of words… what was she talking about right now?

"…reject his evil work. You don't have to depend on him. It's not… too late to change your ways. To shed those bandages. We can be good together-"

Never mind. She was spouting nonsense again. Fuuta closed his eyes and tuned Amane out.

Eventually, Amane's chatter died down. She put a hand on Fuuta's shoulder and whispered into his ear. "I believe in you." Then she headed out.

[rist-ix]

at this point I’m not above begging the old gods for a tbhtbh update and I’m sure as hell not above begging you so please please-

(At least a snippet???)

okay so there’s a whole bunch of asks in my inbox asking for a snippet and I keep putting it off to answer them, because surely I should answer them when I actually have written on? And surely that’s gonna be soon, right?? Right????? But now it’s been months and I’m haunted by all the nice words and funny jokes and cool asks that I never answered because UGH my brain hAS NOT DELIVERED and I didn’t want to show up empty handed, u know? my anxiety is building and my time to write is shrinking and I am A Mess, BUT!!! I’ve also decided to say fuck it and just throw out the stuff I’ve ignored for a good few weeks. So at everyone whose asks I’ve ignored, please know that I am tormented by shame and adhd in equal measures, a never-ending cycle of horror and procrastination.

Anyway. Magix City my beloved!!!

His roar of fury follows her into the hallway, but she doesn’t slow down. Her one chance, her final chance, is now. She knows from Darcy herself that the witch isn’t scrying for her when she’s with Valtor, and she knows from Stormy that the handcuffs’ lifetime is dependent on how strong the captive is. Right now, Valtor is much, much more powerful than her.

She’s paced these corridors for days, weeks. She has gotten lost, confused, and distracted in these hallways, but she has also grown familiar. And now, tonight, it all pays off.

She finds the way. Finds the portal. Far behind her she can hear Valtor call her name, can feel the bond surging with regained magic as he gives chase, and she knows that her window is closing.

Those last few meters feel like eternity. Any moment his hand will close around her shirt, her arm, her neck; any moment she will be torn back and everything will be over. She thinks of Stella, of Flora, of all her friends and how they’d laughed at Alfea, strolled through the city. I’m coming, she thinks. I promise.

She can feel the building heat of a spell behind her.

But it’s too late.

She sets foot into the thin, glowing circle of the portal, and then there’s the blinding light of teleportation.

Just like that, she’s through. She’s out.

The brilliant magic of the portal plucks her from the cold, pale sphere that is Domino, catapults her through thousands of lightyears of space, and spits her out on black asphalt.

She fails to catch her fall, her momentum causing her to roll over her shoulder and bruise her knees on the rough ground. When she comes to a stop, her palms are scratched open and there’s a little bit of blood running down her shins. She hisses in pain and tears her hair back, looking around, preparing to fight off whoever comes through after her.

But he doesn’t appear.

There’s only the dark, rain-wet street before her. Reflecting the colourful lights of the skyscrapers lining it, the streetlamps, the tail-lights of hovering cars zooming by. A rainbow of vibrant blues and purples and yellows, of red and pink and so, so many others. Neon signs and brightened windows cutting through the cloudy night sky, still roiling with the promise of rain.

Magix City. She’s in Magix City.

She’s home.

A wave of sound crashes down on her and she falls right back onto her scraped knees, too stunned to cover her ears. After the long, unnatural silence of Domino, everything is so loud. Angry, beeping horns of cars in the distance, engines whining and roaring, the pitter-patter of a million steps as people mill about on the sidewalks, heeled shoes against wet stone. A prism full of colors in just their clothes, their hair, their faces as they stream by.

Even at night Magix is a bustling metropolis, full of life and noise and light.

She’s assaulted by so many impressions all at once she feels like she might go blind and deaf from it, and still she can’t look away. Three years she hasn’t been here. Almost four, now.

It’s so, so beautiful. In that shrill, dazzling, vibrant way only Magix can be. She feels just like she did then, when she’d first set foot into its labyrinthine, multilayered streets. Like she is on the cusp of something new, something chaotic and magical. Limitless and never-ending, never-resting.

Freedom. She’s free.

A blaring horn snaps her back to the present, and she whirls around only to shield her eyes from the blinding headlights of a car. Someone’s yelling for her to get up, get off the street, are you insane? She jumps to her feet and realizes that she’s in the middle of the road, in her pajamas, and cars have had to hit the brakes or they would have run her over.

Adrenaline hot in her veins, she stumbles back towards the sidewalk, looking around. People have stopped walking and are pointing at her, some talking to each other behind raised hands. Some look worried, some are snickering, and some look alarmed. Shocked.

She remembers that her picture had been plastered across screens and billboards for years, combined with a shady excuse and a bounty that no sane person could have spent in their entire lifetime.

And that Magix is crawling with Valtor’s marks.

No sooner had she finished the thought than she feels the gaze of dozens of eyes snap to her, all at once. Faces in the crowd turning towards her as if magnetized, their eerie synchrony sending goosebumps down her spine.

There’s no life in their stare. Because they’re not the ones looking.

She doesn’t wait for them to come any closer. She ducks her head and starts sprinting, slipping through the gaps in the crowd like a fish against the current. From the corners of her eyes she can see them start to move, to follow her, and her thundering heartbeat seems to choke her in her throat. She hasn’t thought this through at all, there’s a reason she never returned here with Stella. But the only thing on her mind when she’d stepped through that portal had been her friends, how happy they’d been, and the magical gateway had dropped her at the closest match to that nebulous feeling it could find. In the middle of a street, at the heart of this city they had loved.

And now Valtor knows she’s here.

A hand snatches her wrist, and another grabs her hair, marks swarming towards her from all corners of the city. She cries out in pain and hears people start to shout in confusion, but even if they wanted to risk helping her, they wouldn’t have the power to get through the mind-controlled puppets.

But she does, she remembers as the marks try to pull her back, push her down.

A blaze of light and she is bursting free, fluttering wings carrying her up above them and the crowd. Glittering cyan settling on her skin, golden tiara flashing in her hair, and if there had been any doubts in anyone as to who she is, they are now shown irrefutable proof.

[ashiemochi]

anubussy - ix

✠ Anubussy ↳ sorry, i don't want your touch ↳↳ it's not that i don't want you

➶ pairing: OC x Leon S(exy) Kennedy. ➶ genre: fluff, more angst, gore, longer smut/suggestive themes ➶ word count: no

NOTE: ✠ = time skip ✠✠ = switching povs/characters

prev -> next

“Gifts from the BSAA!” Nadia yelled over the loudness of the propellers when the raft opened, “They said that’s the best they can do for us for now!”

So Ah squinted at the rushing wind, seeing a military car and a Ducati X Diavel motorbike. 

Internally, she wanted the BSAA to take their gifts and shove them up their corrupted ass. Externally though, she felt a sense of nostalgia hit her – especially when Leon visibly beamed at the sight of the bike. 

Leon turned to face Chris, exclaiming, “Dibs on the bike!”

And really, it wasn’t much of a choice.

Chris and Leon jogged down the raft to the vehicles. So Ah holstered her gun and went to follow but a voice stopped her.

“You be safe, okay?” Nadia asked, giving her a knowing look. 

Of course, all So Ah did was look like she was one foot away from an ER – she didn’t know it was that obvious.

So Ah gave her a small smile and a nod, “You too.”

With that, she rushed up to Chris as Leon swung his leg over the bike’s seat. Chris looked down at her.

“You good to go?”

“Yes, sir.” So Ah said and she looked over at Damian jogging up to them, “Shotgun!”

Damian blinked, letting out an exaggerated groan, “Oh, come on! You had shotgun last time! Chris, tell her!”

Chris chuckled, opening the driver’s door, “Sorry, guess you gotta be faster.”

“Than her?” Damian gestured at the girl skipping to the passenger seat, “Of course, you would say that.”

Chris gave him a light-hearted glare, “What is that supposed to mean?”

So Ah snorted to herself at their bickering, turning her head to look at Leon. He was already gazing at her. His lips were parted, looking like he was about to say something. 

Not the time.

Hurriedly as if avoiding a high school crush in the halls, she got into the car. Leon’s shoulders deflated a little at this, looking back ahead. He couldn’t help but grip the handle. It squeaked uncomfortably against his leather gloves. 

Why was it so difficult?

The more they’d talk, the farther they seem. Just two separate houses in a suburban part of Los Angeles – a neighbourhood’s lady across from them and a quaint coffee shop just outside the region. 

It took days upon days to connect, only realizing their feelings for one another after months. Then they went down different roads for a while – only to return to one another like a magnet. 

Was this how it was going to go for him again?

Wait?

Chris shut the door and looked at So Ah when Damian had to run back to the Osprey, having forgotten something. She was looking at her hands, thumb caressing the subtle bump of her ring from beneath her glove.

Chris asked, breaking the silence in the car, “Are you planning on telling him anytime soon?”

“I’m scared of how he’ll react.” So Ah muttered, not once looking up.

“Sure, it’s been kept a secret for too long.” He mused, snapping his eyes to the back of Leon’s form, “I’d be surprised if he isn’t mad about it.”

She stayed quiet and he looked back at her, “You still have a chance, So Ah.”

She sighed heavily, leaning against her seat as she trailed her eyes out of the window, arms folded, “I don’t know about that…”

It was clear she didn’t want to talk about it.

Chris saw Damian jogging up to them and turned the ignition on, giving her a firm look, “You won’t know till you talk to him.”

“Alright!” Damian hopped into the backseat, “Let’s get this show on the road!”

With a roar of the motor, Leon and Chris shared a curt nod – and they headed off.

✠

“Once the tankers are down, rendezvous at Arias’ place.” Chris ordered through the earpiece, “Depending on the situation, we might have to put Rebecca on hold until we find that vaccine.”

So Ah gripped her seatbelt for her life when the car hovered off the ground for a moment when Chris rode them over the slight bump of the road. 

And she thought Leon’s driving skills could make food jump up to her throat.

“Got it!” Leon affirmed, his voice echoing into their intercom. 

“Why didn’t I drive?” So Ah mumbled, breath hitching at another bump. 

“Because I’m the captain.” Chris said, casting her a teasing look. 

“I’m good with maps. I can locate those trucks easily.” She reasoned, earning a chuckle as he turned a sharp corner, making her gasp.

“So can a GPS.”

The car slowly came to a halt and Leon stopped next to it, pushing the stand down. The tanker was at the other block along with a black truck behind it. She assumed those trucks were to defend the tanker. 

So Ah tilted her head to take a peek at Leon, practically infatuation in her doe eyes. He always looked unbelievably attractive on a bike. She wondered what happened to his first Ducati – maybe this new one would end up in his garage. 

Or… A peace offering?

Her bank account wasn't restricted or anything – she only never touched her card just in case the BSAA don't trace it back and fuck her off with a surprise visit.

“Close your mouth, So Ah,” Damian snickered, “You’re drooling.”

So Ah snapped her eyes over at him, red rushing up her neck and reaching her cheeks. Leon raised a brow at her and she quickly leaned back into her seat, sinking down. A faint chuckle reached her ears but she didn’t know from who. It was distant; that was all she knew. 

And it was enough to bite into the inner part of her bottom lip.

“내 거시기나 먹어, 데미안.” She mumbled under her breath, giving him a side glare but he only snorted. 

“English, Mija.”

“아니.”

“Look at her! She’s turnin’ redder than a rose!” Damian laughed, jabbing his thumb at her. 

She snapped, growing flustered, “I’ll show you red if you don’t shut up.”

“There you go! English!”

“So help me god–”

“Would you two knock it off?” Chris shook his head with a sigh, looking out at Leon, “Could’ve taken one of them with you. Save me the babysitter work.”

“I would,” Leon huffed, the corner of his lip twitching upward, “Maybe next time.”

Chris chuckled, glancing over at the tanker in the distance and then at him, “Well, you ready to rock?”

“Are you kidding?” He returned the question, rhetorically. 

With a rough exhale, “Let’s do this.”

Leon kicked the stand, going first. As he approached the tanker, he took out the hand grenade from his belt and bit into the pin, yanking it off. Tossing the grenade, it clanked under the tanker. 

A faint sound came from So Ah at the explosion, setting the whole tanker ablaze – well, Rebecca’s right. The virus was flammable. 

Chris stopped the car behind the trunk just as a man jumped out and Damian was the first one out of the car. He shot the man before he could react. 

So Ah hopped out along with Chris, rounding the car to be nearby. Automatically, her eyes went to Leon, finding his were on hers as if silently checking on one another. He had one hand on the grip, keeping one foot flat on the ground instead of using the stand.

So Ah had her gun out, holding it with both hands, before she jumped at the sudden thumping from the truck’s trunk, sending her to aim at it. Similarly, Chris and Damian did the same. 

The whole truck was shaking from side to side with each thumping, followed by faint growling. So Ah didn’t move, uneasiness sticking her to the ground. One of the many reasons why she preferred long-range weapons was the safety of being far. 

Damian moved ahead, keeping his aim up in an alarmed way but anyone could see he was unsettled by the animalistic sounds from inside the vehicle. He reached out for the handle to open it but the doors slammed wide open before he could. 

He let out a gasp when two rabid dogs jumped out. He quickly recovered but one of the dogs was too close, pouncing on him and ripping his head off – literally. 

The sight made So Ah freeze, eyes snapping wide open and all she could hear were the loud pounding in her ears. The dogs were Dobermans but they were infected as well – it was clear the vaccine wouldn’t work on them.

With their flesh falling apart, showing bits of muscles and bones, and their clouded eyes – they were too far gone. 

“Damian!” Chris shouted out to his fallen comrade and friend. 

A gargled bark came from right next to So Ah, causing her to yelp and back away from the rotting dog, bumping into the hood of the truck. Just the sound of fear in her voice made Leon’s hand hover over his gun instinctively, almost getting off his bike in the process but Chris was closest. 

“Shit!” He cursed, shooting the dog but it ran around, easily dodging all the bullets. 

“Damn it,” Chris hissed when he realized he was wasting his bullets, watching the two dogs snarl and get nearer, and he asked aloud, “Any Ideas?”

“I’ll lead the dogs away. You go blow up some more tankers.” Leon suggested, setting his hands onto the grip, “Good?”

“Yeah…” Chris spoke with a faint growl, slowly making his way to the hood of the car whilst keeping his aim on the dogs.

So Ah instantly grew afraid, her cinnamons glancing over at Leon with her gun on the Dobermens, concerned. Any day could be your last with missions like these. She had to hope that they’d make it out alive – but the need to say something was strong.

“Leon,” She called out to him, catching his attention. 

Leon looked at her with furrowed brows and a slightly impatient look on his face. She looked like that day when she apologized for snapping at him; small and anxious. Her lips parted but nothing came out, yet he read her hesitant eyes. 

She was holding something back.

Tongue-tied, she didn’t say anything, her stomach hurting at the thought of even telling him. 

“Please, be careful.” So Ah managed to utter quietly, chest heaving. 

Leon’s tough exterior faltered only a little, noticing the fear in her eyes, “Always.”

The Ducati roared loudly when he revved it up, taking the dogs’ attention away from the Han girl and the BSAA operator. 

“Here, boy!” Leon urged with each rev as if he was going to play catch, “C’mon!”

The tires squealed when he launched off, nearly bumping into the dogs who jumped away before running after him. They were surprisingly keeping up with the speed of the bike. 

Chris slowly made his way to Damian’s body, So Ah trailing close behind when he knelt down. He hated when he loses his teammates. He’d always think he failed as their captain. Just another soul to all the lives he wished he had saved. 

Holding back her tears, So Ah set a hand on his shoulder, softly whispering, “Chris, we have to go.”

“I know.” Chris muttered back, clearly trying not to let his emotions get in the way of his mission. 

“Do you want me to drive?” She offered, “I know where the tankers are and–”

“No,” He sniffled once, standing up and shaking his head, “We’re heading straight to Arias.”

She blinked at that, “But the plan–”

“DC and Nadia can handle it,” Chris said, making his way back to the car, visibly furious, “Let’s go.”

So Ah spent no second running back to the passenger side, “Yes, captain.”

The vehicle trembled lightly when Chris slammed the door shut and she put on her seatbelt. Not even a minute after entering the car, Chris slammed the gas and she felt herself being pushed back against her seat. 

The world outside the car was a blur of orange and red with the sun setting on the horizon. Any passing car was moving aside for the speeding military one. As the car was zooming down the highway, So Ah couldn’t help but pick up on the two burning cars on top of one another with a dog’s rotten head poking out from underneath. 

Her lips parted as she looked around for any sight of her husband but found a highway sign toppled down with bullet holes through it. It looked as if it was charred by an explosion and she noticed the bits and pieces of flesh scattered on and about. 

That must’ve been the other dog. 

She leaned back against her seat, pressing her lips into a thin line to try and stay calm. Her hands were tight around her seatbelt, internally praying for his safety as the rough fabric dug into her palms. Her gloves rested on her lap, having been removed due to her sweaty palms.

She wouldn’t even know what she’d do to herself if something were to happen to him.

Her eyes trailed down to her ring.

Please be okay…

[intheclearblueskies]

You Get Injured in Battle

| Masterlist |

Tanjiro:

If you got hurt, depending on the severity of the injury, Tanjiro wouldn't consider taking you out of the battle. If it's something small like a slice to the face, he knows you're capable enough to keep fighting.

But if you fell and couldn't continue to fight without struggling, he'd have Nezuko haul you off so that you could rest.

150% worried about you the whole time, even if your wounds end up not being that severe. Poor boy's had his whole family (save for Nezuko) killed by a demon; if you're someone he considers a friend, he will worry about you, full stop.

If you had to be healed at the Butterfly Estate, Tanjiro does his best to visit you often, usually with the squad. He offers to take all of you out to get lunch somewhere when you're discharged, which lifts your spirits (because who can't resist their favorite food?).

Nezuko:

Since you're one of the few with rare blood, Nezuko immediately takes notice and worries about your safety, making it a point to stop battling the demon for a few minutes so that she can get you to a safer place.

Even though you protest, she doesn't put you down until she knows no demon is going to come after you. She's luckily able to rein in her own impulses to bite you, even if the sight of drool coming from her gag is enough to unnerve you.

She sets you down with a firm look, and when you eventually agree to stay put until your bleeding stops, she pats your head, smiles, and runs off to continue fighting.

If you had to be healed at the Butterfly Estate, she stays at your side almost all the time, only moving when coaxed by Tanjiro. Even then, she reluctantly leaves you (with one of the girls promising to look after you in her absence). She only leaves your side when you get discharged.

Zenitsu:

If you get hurt, Zenitsu starts panicking. Sometimes, it turns into crying. In his eyes, you're far more capable than he is, and if you go down, he's pretty sure you're both screwed.

This can seriously distract you, so the sooner you can calm him down the better. Otherwise, if he faints, you've just guaranteed victory. Lucky you.

Either way, Zenitsu is going to see you as a strong, brave person -- and will cling to you in the meantime, blubbering about how much of a hero you are.

If you end up having to be healed at the Butterfly Estate, Zenitsu stays with you the whole time, probably annoying the living daylights out of the girls. He's super supportive of you the whole time, although his depressed mood/crying spells can irritate you sometimes.

Inosuke:

To be blunt, Inosuke doesn't give your wounds much thought unless they force you to pull out of the fight. It doesn't mean he doesn't care about you, it just means that he's more focused on the battle than he is at hovering over you making sure you're good. If you do have to pull out, he'll acknowledge it by yelling to Tanjiro (usually something like, "OI (insert mispronunciation here), (y/n)'s hurt!"), who might then get Nezuko or Zenitsu to haul you off somewhere else.

In some ways, it irritates you when he doesn't call out, but once the fight is over he might come close to you, inspecting the injured area. If it's bad enough that you need to withdraw, he stays at your side until you can get medical attention. Of course, don't think for a moment that he's gonna be sweet and/or romantic -- the second he knows you're gonna be okay, he scolds you for being hurt so badly, arguing that if you died, who else would he have to be his most competent underling?

Sometimes, you wake up in the medical ward to find his head resting at the end of your bed (mask on, of course), sleeping. It's sweet, even if he'll wake up demanding that you heal quickly so that he can prove to you that he's the greatest of the team (and prove that he'll be able to prevent this scenario from happening again).

Giyuu:

Depending on the severity of the injury, Giyuu may not react much to it. If it's something light, he'll probably verbally confirm that you're alright and you can still fight. If it's bad enough you need to withdraw, he gets more panicky.

Depending on the one you're fighting, he could easily take them on himself, but the thought that you're unable to fight because of your wounds distracts him and makes him more prone to mistakes. Luckily, after the fight is over, he takes you immediately to the Butterfly Estate to rest up under Shinobu's guidance.

He may deliberate between staying or leaving you there, simply because he's probably beating himself up over letting you get so hurt. What if you died? What if he lost another person important to him? Shinobu would then clear up these thoughts by bullying him into staying until you awoke. Blunt or not, she cares about both of you and his hesitance annoys her.

(... he also ends up writing a letter of apology to your over-protective parents, especially your father, who is no doubt worrying himself sick upon hearing that your injuries were so bad you had to go to the estate. He makes your crow take it instead of his, so that he knows it'll get delivered. Shinobu also gets a little package of soy-boiled ginger as a thank-you, because he's too embarrassed to thank her directly.)

Kyojuro:

Depending on the severity of the injury, Kyojuro won't react much to it. If it's light, he'll confirm that you can still fight before going on. If it's bad enough that you need to withdraw, he'll carry you off the battlefield himself (or call for backup, in case the demon is too tricky for him alone). After the fight is over, you end up at the Butterfly Estate to heal.

Kyojuro stays with you until you wake the next day, bright-eyed and smiley as usual, although you can sense some troubled emotions inside. Once he's reassured that you're going to be okay, he wishes you a quick recovery and takes his exit, trusting that you'll be adequately looked after.

Muichiro:

Depending on the severity of the injury, Muichiro won't react much. If it's something light, he'll give you a concerned look, but otherwise keep fighting. If it's bad enough that you need to withdraw, he orders backup so that he won't have to worry about the demon finishing you off. After the fight is over, he visits you at the Butterfly Estate.

Tanjiro ended up hearing about your injuries from him, and the two (well, really plus the squad) stay with you until you wake. Muichiro has to be reassured that you'll be okay before he allows Tanjiro to cheer him up elsewhere. He still ends up visiting you every other day and offers to treat you to your favorite snacks when you get discharged.

Shinobu:

Depending on the severity of the injury, Shinobu might not do too much. If it's light, she would probably pause to hand you some bandages to wrap it with. If it's bad enough that you need to withdraw, she grows more tense and sharper with her moves until she wins the fight. Immediately after it's over, she goes to you, assessing your wounds before treating them accordingly and hauling you to the Estate.

She watches over you until you wake the next day, lightly scolding you for being so careless before going over how bad your injuries were and how long it'll take you to recover. She visits you as often as she can, usually to make sure you're looking okay. If you have visitors, she may sit in with you for a while. Once you're well enough to be discharged, she hands you a parcel of bandages for the next emergency on the battlefield.

Gyomei:

Depending on the severity of the injury, Gyomei may react accordingly. If it's light enough that you can still fight, he will confirm that you're all right before going back to it. If it's bad enough that you need to withdraw, he finishes the fight quickly so that he can assess your injuries. He's most likely crying as he prays for you before taking you to the Estate to heal.

He stays with you until you wake the next day (and having written a letter to your worried parents). Once he knows you'll be alright, he visits you every other day, sometimes with presents from your parents (and at one point, Daikon the cat, much to Aoi's exasperated surprise).

He personally escorts you back home once you're well enough to be discharged, and promises your parents that he'll keep an eye on you (much to your embarrassment).

Sanemi:

No matter the severity of the injury, first and foremost you're getting scolded, usually with profanity of some kind that would've made your dear deceased mother faint.

If it's bad enough that you need to withdraw, he makes sure to end the fight quickly, acting angry about it the whole time (the first few times it happened, you were embarrassed and upset. After a while, though, you caught on to the concern in his scowl and the way he held you tighter than usual). Then he assesses your injuries, taking you to the Estate to heal.

He waits until you wake the next day to get MAD at you, demanding that you be more careful in the future. He worried a lot that you wouldn't walk away from the fight and takes it out as frustration against you, much to your (and the girls') chagrin. (There was a lot of profane language that absolutely should not have been heard by young ears. Shinobu had to come down herself to threaten him to clean up his language, otherwise she'd deaden his tongue so that she could 'clean it up' herself.)

Once you're discharged, you go to visit him with an apology lunch, which he begrudgingly accepts.

Akaza:

No matter the injury, Akaza is coming to your aid. It'll be difficult to control his hunger when he sees your blood, but once the enemy demon is slain, he'll get you to safety and order you to heal up.

If you're more wounded, he'll feel an urge to give you some of his blood to heal you, but he doesn't want to do anything without your consent.

Douma:

Likely, you aren't going to be caught up in battle around him. But if he just so happened to be out with you and you were attacked, he wouldn't panic. He knows you can more than handle yourself against any uppity subordinates, and thus wouldn't interfere.

Then again, if you received more serious injuries, he would show concern and tell you to heal with his most trusted physician cult members. He would oversee your treatment to make sure you were healed completely before allowing you to leave the compound. (Of course, the demon would die at his hand, because if anyone were to kill you, he'd prefer it to be either him or Muzan, and he knows Muzan couldn't care less about a fresh pillar.)

Kokushibo:

Depending on the injury, he's not gonna care.

You've become much stronger than when you first 'met', and he knows you can handle most types of injuries. But if you were injured so badly that you had to quit, he'd likely finish off your enemy for you and leave you at the gates of your compound for your family to find and heal.

Muzan:

Muzan wouldn't actively come to your rescue, mostly because he's busy and he doesn't have time to worry about a normal civilian (at present time). You would probably just tend to your own wounds. If he was near you when you got attacked, if it was a demon, it would probably back off just due to the proximity to their boss. You never quite catch onto why they seem to avoid you like a plague after the first few times it happens.

Yoriichi:

Depending on the injury, Yoriichi will have no qualms about rushing in to finish the fight. Since he's helped train you, he knows what you're capable of, and some little nicks and fractures won't keep you down. But if the wound is bad enough that you need to quit, his first priority is making sure you're safe before defeating your opponent.

Luckily, he's pretty experienced in patching wounds. He's a good nurse, although he can get a little too overbearing at times.

[whatudottu]

Hmmmm if Annie fell and how would the Andromeda 5 react :))

Like what, she tripped? Fell out of bed? Jumped off a cliff?

Annie while being an adopted daughter to 5 aliens that don't know humanity inherently, she's a 16 year old who's first introduction to the 5 was through P'andor which I will state (if you're a long time follower, this is a reminder, if you're new, this is some context) she was immediately trying to mug him with a knife. He also probably looked like his human ID at the time which is... well, the picture of a large Slavic man who takes no shit.

But I'll indulge, I'll indulge, but prepare to be underwhelmed.

So if Annie fell (in the tripped context, maybe she fumbles a dance or just falls ass over teakettle on something), P'andor already has the impression she can take tougher shit than the ground. Might bark a short laugh especially if she gets right up and brushes the dirt off herself, depending on the dramatics of the fall he might jokingly award points for style, but not unless she got genuinely hurt P'andor does the quick 'You good' and move on when Annie starts walking as usual. Bivalvan would disapprove of P'andor's dismissiveness but less out of instinctual parental response and more from the fact he's grown up as a species with an exoskeleton, and Annie being human she has an endoskeleton which the soft fleshy bits on the outside. He takes a glance at whatever skin deep lesions Annie gets and puts in a bit too much stock than necessary into them, but his big main problem with that would be that Annie damaged the parts of her that would have been well protected under armour that humans don't have, and trying to associate the damage to scrapes in shell is building up his ability to cope that Annie would know what hurts or not.

You might expect that Galapagus would immediately baby Annie, but I don't think that would be the case. Aside from having the same instinct as Bivalvan (squishy shell-less human got skin damage), as a species with an unconventional method of flying, that being literal air propulsion, well there's a little bit of his cultural mentality that views children as baby birds or what have you. You could piff a geochelone aerio child (not in the least because they can be held in one human hand like Earth turtles and tortoises) and while still being an asshole, not an irredeemable bastard, the shell doing a lot of lip service (it's built in naturally to compensate for a fall, especially with all the weight of the shell itself contributing to the intensity of said fall) thanks to the inherent learning curve of 'oh yeah you're going to have to fly' children are gonna fall over anyway and heck, an adult too who would be much heavier is going to inevitably drop out of the sky like a rock. Not to say Galapagus wouldn't at least still hover over Annie for a hot sec or too, but if anything given that geochelone aerios have at least some areas of endoskeleton, so long as Annie isn't actively bleeding or straight up broken a bone he's not going to get too worked up about it.

The person that will really get worked up about it would be, of course, Ra'ad. Having absolutely no bones to actually break (his gladius doesn't count and his beak is hard to break at all) you might think he's the most prepared in dealing with skin lesions, but this is the man that grew up in an ocean and lived on land floating around like no one's business, people just don't get hurt by gravity! Not to mention, injuries in the sea are bound to attract predators, or injuries in stagnant water are bound to attract infection, or injuries are (in his culture) the first sign that you will be the next to die and dying isn't a thing his people are concerned with WHY AREN'T THEY CONCERNED WITH DEATH! It's only really his mind reading that tells him to stop right before he panics over Annie ensuing she dies... from embarrassment. If she fell and she's fine if slightly humiliated, Ra'ad will suppress his anxieties and kind of explicitly change the subject to hopefully make it clear he isn't thinking about her falling anymore (if it works it works, if it doesn't well...). And if she's legitmately hurt, Ra'ad would be actually the first to clock it since Annie like to be tough and infallible even if only for herself instead of being someone's stone, so if mentally she's wincing and grumbling etc Ra'ad will be the one to ask 'Are you actually okay?' and attempt (keyword: attempt) to be as low key about it as Annie is.

And finally I think out of all the Andromeda 5 I think Andreas is the only one who has experience with children, both in raising them and with the [alien] to human comparison to what a child is. I've mentioned my piece a whole bunch about making talpaedans ant inspired, and part of that is because Andreas would be the 'male' of an ant colony or the tradie of a talpaedan, which would mean Andreas grew up learning to parent the children of the colony's Queen and other architect/tradie pairings, expecting to in adult do the same in the colony Andreas had been married to if Aggregor didn't cause a divorce instead. So unlike Bivalvan who would claim with 100% certainty he was a father but only because he's a broadcast spawning species, Ra'ad who would claim complete opposite else he'd be actually dead to a herd of zooplankton young, Galapagus who would really be in human translation in his early 20s only remembering being a child, and P'andor that doesn't even know what sex is because prypiatosian-bs literally don't have sexual reproduction, Andreas would have nearly a life's worth of knowledge of childhood development (which is still only the equivalent of being 25ish years old, it's just Andreas being essentially a male ant) and have the most experience with a child falling over.

Which - because Andreas has experience - Annie falling over is not a big deal and if in arms reach, Andreas would lift her back up and brush her shoulders a little bit before letting her run off again and move on from the whole thing. The worst thing any parent can do is coddle their teen like a toddler and damn, Annie falling over is not as bad as what happens to talpaedan youth, it's a breath of fresh air.

This is hardly a 'P'andor exposes Annie to radiation' moment, but I did use this as an excuse to shoot forward some brief biology and culture headcanons about the Andromeda 5.

[takeeachdayonebookatatime]

Why did you elbow me? 167

Achilles Castle part 69

Lemonade and lies PART 12

Martha: pov I ate lunch before I arrived at the hospital Katherine is no longer on oxygen her lungs are doing great. She tells me Olivia has a possible suspect in the case. Which is awesome. Richard is getting some writing done on his computer. Me and Jim talk for a bit.

Joe: pov it seems like me and Muncy are doing everything today which is not fair but we did lie to Captain Benson about being drunk so I guess we deserved it. I'm stuck with Fin hovering over me and Muncy has Liv. I ask if I can get coffee from the break room. He says sure make me a tea while you're at it and make olivia a coffee.

Alexis: pov me and Dave are in the cafeteria getting lunch when I hear a boy say something nasty about cops. Dave says don't get involved but I do anyway, i tell the boy my stepmom is a homicide cop and she solves murders so  not all cops are bad. 

Farkas: pov does she solve the ones she committed or ones other cops did. Alexis says no it's not like that other people committed them and don't talk bad about my step mother.

Dave: pov we grab our pizza and sit down. A girl we don't know asks if she can sit with us. Cammalleri asks if her stepmother is the cop who took down bracken Alexis says yes. Cam asks if her dad Castle and stepmom are coming to the school's family dinner night. Alexis says it depends if she has to work and if she gets a case. After we finished eating we headed to the hospital since we got out early today. 

Jet: pov this is strange how no one knows the killer so it must have been random. Ryan found where the guy lives. I also found something strange. There is video from a grocery store of our suspect arguing with the victim over a parking space wow. Our victim was murdered over a parking space that can't be right. Liv says we need to find the murder weapon and more solid proof that he is the murderer.

Muncy : pov Ryan and Elliot went to get some tacos while we continued with the case. I'm so tired and hungover, Esposito is telling us about one of his weirdest cases. The woman was a psychic and predicted her own death, how strange. 

Ryan: pov I thank Elliot for coming with me to get the tacos he asks  me more about my family. Jenny is my wife's name and Sarah Grace is our daughter and Jenny is pregnant with our second child, a boy. Turns out Elliot is a grandpa already. I know Fin is also a grandpa.  At the station I put the food down on the table while Esposito grabs some plates and cups for everyone. The tacos look amazing. I can't wait to eat them.

Elliot: pov the food was amazing a few of us are heading to check out the house, we are leaving jet, Muncy,  Joe and Ryan at the 12th precinct while the rest of us search the house for info. We know the suspect isn't at home. He is at work. Liv called and told his boss to call him in so we could search his house. We have a warrant. 

Ayanna: pov the house is big we split up into 2 groups Me, Esposito and Fin in one group head upstairs and Elliot and Liv head downstairs together. Fin is shouting about how he may have just found something interesting about our suspect. Hidden in a closet he has a photo album labeled memory lane. 

Fin: pov i found a photo album labeled memory lane. It's full of newspaper clippings about missing/dead people. The one page has a stick that says another one. Oh sh*t, is this guy, a serial killer. I tell Liv over the walkie talkie we have a huge problem. 

Esposito: pov Liv says take pictures of the photo album and put it exactly where we found it and un, ass this place. Once back at the station we each look up one of the people from the photo album. Liv is trying to get the judge to sign off on a bunch of warrants. We don't have much to go with the pictures. I call Lanie since she might have info as a medical examiner she probably knows who did the autopsy on some of these if the bodies were ever found.

Lanie: pov  no I have never seen some of these missing people I  would remember doing the autopsy. wow the one body was found in the woods never solved, NJ police tried to solve it but nothing added up and they finally sent it to cold case. I can get in touch with the ME who did the original autopsy to see if we can confirm if it is this woman. It would give her family closure. I pick up the phone and call the original Medical examiner on the phone. I talk to Hank, the original medical examiner on the case. I'm working a homicide case and our murder suspect had a photo album and one of the women looked like one of yours. a cold case a while ago. He offers to come over to the morgue and go over the evidence with me. 

Kate: pov I just got off the phone with Liv turns out her suspect might be a serial killer, just great. This case is so stressful and has so many twists and turns along the way. She sent me some stuff I could look up so that way I can still help with the case. My dad is watching a baseball game muted that way he doesn't disturb me which is sweet. A nurse comes in to check my vitals. She says everything looks good right now. It's time for my next nebulizer treatment and meds. I still have a bit of a bad cough.

Jim: pov  while Katie is getting her nebulizer treatment I decided to walk around a little. Alexis and Dave showed up earlier and hung out a bit before heading off to get some shopping done. Martha is chatting with a cute Dr who looks too young for her. Captain Benson should be calling Katie back soon with more info. To be continued.  ……..

[writing-multifandoms]

Avengers + others reacting to reader passing out/getting dizzy.

( headcanons )

REQUESTS ~ CLOSED

The whole team ( like everyone ) :

Peter and Bruce notice the signs first. The way your eyes are glazed over. Whoever is closest to you will grab your arm if you sway or stumble forward.

It kinda depends on why you're feeling faint. If it's because of sickness, Bruce will definitely give you an IV so that you start to get better

If it's because of not sleeping, don't be surprised if they drag you to your room and make you go to sleep for like the whole day.

If it's because you haven't ate, then everyone will start arguing over what you should eat. While everyone is arguing, Steve and Bruce sneak away to the kitchen and get you some chocolate and a glass of orange juice

If there's no reason, then they will make sure to have you sit or lay down. They will also always keep a closer eye on you.

Tony Stark

He probably will tease you about being clumsy. He might even make a little joke or comment about it. Once he realizes that you are dizzy, he instantly goes into action.

If you start to pass out and he cannot reach you in time, he'll have one of his suits get around you so that you don't injure yourself falling.

If you don't wake up pretty much immediately, he's going to get Bruce. He might joke at first but he's still worried about you.

If he does reach you in time, he's going to wrap him arm firmly but gently around your waist. Once your eyes slide close, he picks you up and waits for a few moments. If you don't wake up, he'll take you to Bruce.

Steve Rogers :

He's literally by your side as soon as you stagger to the left. He starts rambling off questions. Asking if you had eaten that day or if you are sleepy.

When you pass out from the overwhelming wave of vertigo, his worry triples. He checks your pulse quickly before picking up your limp form.

It doesn't matter if you were only unconscious for three seconds. He is still taking you to Bruce. He deeply cares for you and would never forgive himself if anything were to happen to you.

He also hovers slightly now. He wants to be close enough to make sure that you are feeling okay and not feeling like you are going to pass out.

Bucky Barnes :

" You okay there, doll?" He says as he moves closer.

Once he gets closer, he gets his answer. You feel the room spinning and you blindly grab whatever is close to you. Turns out is was Bucky's metal arm.

He positions his body to where his normal arm wraps around your waist. He doesn't want to hurt you with his metal arm. He guides you to the closest couch and gets a good look at you.

He is trying to get to the bottom of your dizziness when you end up losing consciousness. Bucky immediately yells for Bruce and checks your pulse.

When you wake up, you're in Bucky's bed, a IV in your arm.

" You gave me quite a scare there, doll."

Thor :

If you get lightheaded on Asgard he takes you to the healers immediately. He's is super worried about you. You mean the world to him.

If you get dizzy on earth, he takes you to Bruce. Will not hesitate to pick you up when he sees the way your eyes glaze over.

Will freak out even more if you end up passing out in his arms. He holds you close in his arms. If you are injured and pass out in battle, Thor is p i s s e d.

When that happens he will not hesitate to kill all nearby enemies, his eyes glowing a deep blue as rage clouds him.

Loki :

He'll react similar to Tony. He most likely will tease you about it and make some smart comments about it.

But the moment, your eyes flutter, he teleports to your side. He's a trickster and likes joking around sometimes. But, he will actually draw a line when it comes to your health or your well being.

Demands Bruce to make sure that you are okay. The good thing is, Loki can teleport/shape shift.

So if he notices from far away that you are close to fainting, he'll immediately be by your side, to make sure you don't fall.

May or may not tease you though.

" You fainted directly into my arms. If you wanted my attention, you did not have to resort to such extremes."

Stephen Strange :

Okay if it's before his accident, he will immediately check you out. He's also a " I told you so." Type of guy so don't be surprised if he scolds you.

He will be worried if you end up passing out. Will take you to the hospital but won't let anyone but him and Christine check you out.

If it's after the accident, then you are kind of in luck. He has been more aware of his thoughts. If he notices that you look like you are able to collapse, he won't hesitate to use his powers.

He'll freeze everything to get to your side. He'll resume time when his arm is snug around your waist. Does panic a bit if you end up passing out. Won't let you do anything for the rest of the day.

If you end up passing out before he can freeze time, his cloak will always beat him to getting to you. His cloak will keep you upright so that strange can pick you up.

Peter Parker :

He could sense something was off. He was worried as he made his way to your side.

" Y/N, you oka-"

You fainted out of nowhere, your eyes rolling back in your head as your knees buckled. He was able to stop you from falling.

He had caught you with a web, a string of strong material had latched on your back. This was good enough until peter was able to get in front of you. You slumped forward in his arms.

" Mr. Stark? What should i- d-d-do?" Fear was evident in his eyes.

" Hold tight, kid. I'll get Bruce."

You awaken three minutes later and Peter has tears in his eyes. He thought you were gone forever.

Bruce Banner

Instant worry. As soon as he notices you start to sway unsteadily on your feet, he's going to pick you up. He will do a thorough exam to try and get to the bottom of it.

If you do end up passing out, he'll catch you and lay your body on the exam table, making sure that you are comfortable. While he does your exam, he'll make sure to keep an hand on your hip to make sure that you won't end up slipping

He feels better if he can find a reason behind your fainting. However, if he can't, then he'll will just make a habit of checking up on you more to see if you are feeling okay.

Natasha Romanoff :

She was already super protective of you. She felt really worried when she noticed what state you were in. Discreetly wraps her arm around your waist and supports a good portion of your weight.

Her grip tightens on you when your knees start to buckle. If you end up passing out, she will lift you into her arms and go in search of Bruce.

She won't leave your side while you are being attended to. She will also hold your hand while you are out. This is so you will recognize her when you wake up so you won't be alone.

May or may not use you feeling dizzy as an excuse to cuddle extra close to you. That way if you do end up passing out she will be close to catch you. + More affection.

Wanda Maximoff :

If she cannot reach you in time when you begin to lose consciousness, she will definitely use her powers. She would levitate you as gently as she could.

It also depends on where you feel dizzy at as well. If you feel dizzy but you are out and about, she will discreetly being you close and wrap her arm around you to keep you upright and steady.

If you start to feel lightheaded at the compound, Wanda will fully use her powers to make sure that you are safe. She will also carry you to bed.

Will not let you get up unless it's to go to the bathroom.

Vision :

Starts asking you questions while guiding you to the nearest soft surface. If you do end up passing out, he will pull you into his arms. He will time how long you are out for. If it's longer than a minute, he's taking you to Bruce.

Also keeps you a little snack stash for whenever you feel lightheaded or feel faint. You have also noticed that he is starting to hover more ( literally and figuratively ). If he notices you start to sway, he'll go right behind you and gently grab you so that you lean back against his chest.

While doing this, Vision will also discreetly check your pulse and temperature, but most times when he does that you are too out of it to even notice.

Just naturally worried about you. He wants you to be happy and healthy so he always makes sure to ask if you are feeling alright. You should also use it to get more cuddles out of him. When you cuddle up to him suddenly out of the blue, he will immediately ask you if you are alright.

Sam Wilson

Takes you to Bruce immediately. No like for real. And don't even get him started if you do end up passing out. Sam loves you so much so he's going to make sure that you are good.

Definitely makes you eat real food. None of that instant stuff. Even if he has to make it himself. If it's stops you from feeling faint, then he's willing to do that for you.

CUDDLING.... MORE CUDDLING.

He is definitely one of those people who loves cuddling with their s/o. If you do end up passing out, he will definitely be taking you to Bruce.

If there is no reason for your fainting then Sam will put you in bed. He will also make sure that you are as comfortable as he can make you. He will also have your favorite snack/food and/or movie ready.

Might make a joke or two about it.

Clint Barton :

( I forgot him oops )

Okay, he's like a mix between Natasha and Tony. He would tease you a little but like the instant he sees that you are looking a little out of it, he kinda panics. He definitely hovers close to you. However long this spell goes on, he will have both hands on you.

Will drag you to Bruce of he has to. He doesn't play around when it comes to your health. Once Clint has you steady he will crack a joke or two after make sure that you're good.

" I guess you could say you're falling for me."

Is a lot more hesitant for you to go into battle. He's now like ten times more protective of you, especially if the enemies know about your fainting spells.

He feels a little better about it if there's a reason behind you feeling woozy. Of it's something that can be fixed like eating enough, he'll make sure he always has snacks/drinks on him when you are around. He'll pull you into his lap and will make sure you are straight .

[burnedbyshoto]

i wonder

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

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

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pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

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

word count: 20,141

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

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You cracked your eyes open.

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

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

Wait.

CUM?!

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

Think, y/n, think!

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

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

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

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

You screamed.

At the top of your lungs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n!”

“Y/n-chan!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll give you ten seconds to run.”

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

“Oh, true. Three seconds to run.”

“Why?!”

“It’s my birthday.”

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

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

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

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

“Come on, let’s go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which is where you were now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was on this day that it clicked.

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

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

Disgusting.

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

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

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

So, we look back to where we started.

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

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

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

He was a physics major, not a goddamn god.

Fuck off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But that was all unimportant and already said.

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

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

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

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

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

Ah yes, nothing like a university party.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N!”

“Y/N-CHAN!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You also itched to know what his dick looked like.

This was definitely someone you could see yourself fucking tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck men.

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

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

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

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

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

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

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

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

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

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

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

Your mind was a drunken fever. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

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

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

“Fuck.”

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

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

You don’t think about it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What a child.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...I always make it.”

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

Silence.

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

“Fend for your damn self then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dumb?”

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi. Wanna explain what happened last night?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Irritation runs through your veins.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Once he left, you felt light again.

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” he snaps.

“What the fuck is your problem?!”

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

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

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

“You are too!”

“When am I ever?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You only ever fuck men with questionable personalities.”

“Gee, I wonder fucking why!”

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

“What do you mean?” he grits slowly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your friends had noticed immediately.

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

You could care less right now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

As time does, it moves forward.

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

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

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

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

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

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

From two days to five.

It was weird.

You felt almost empty.

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

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

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

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

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

You grin.

“Obviously.”

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

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

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

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

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

“NO! Wrong again! Yaomomo!”

“Um, to make everlasting mem—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why didn’t he just try to corner you?

Why did you care that he didn’t?

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

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

But why did you?

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

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

You were in love with him.

You loved Shouto.

Not in a friendly, platonic, family way.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

“Anything for you, darling.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like hell you would ever let Shouto cuck you!

Let him fuck another woman in front of you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

It seemed frat parties were one of them.

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

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

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

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

It was slow.

Sensual.

Somehow familiar.

Absolutely mind-numbing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were breathless.

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

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

He kissed you.

He wanted you.

He said he needed you.

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

He needed you.

Just you.

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

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

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

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

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

Something Shouto was more than keen on giving you.

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n—”

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

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

It was dizzying to have him on you like this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It takes your breath away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Shouto?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The question itself, while unexpected, was not unwanted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“More, more, more!”

And he gives, and gives, and gives.

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

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

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

“Fuck,” he says.

“Right?” you chuckle.

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

P R E S E N T

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now that shocks you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,” you whisper back.

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Apologize then.”

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

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

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

“Crybaby?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Three hundred thirteen: SO. MUCH. DRINKING.

Five thousand: SO. MUCH. WEED.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was intimate, romantic even.

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

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

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

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

“Hey, is that a water gun?!”

[zooophagous]

Inhale for four seconds. Hold for four seconds. Exhale for seven seconds. Artemis repeated her breathing exercises over and over, trying to stop her heart from pounding in her ears. It sounded so loud. She wondered if he could hear it, if it might set him off. He had ears the size of Texas, he could probably hear it. She better keep that thought to herself though, no need to insult him. No need to make him mad. Ursula was already going to be making him mad enough.

"Try not to antagonize him on purpose, auntie."

"I'm not the one you have to worry about here. If it can't control itself long enough to do a bit of small talk, it's not going to work out long term anyway."

Artemis flattened her lips and looked down. Auntie had a point. As much as she wanted to be lenient, half the success of the meeting depended on the subject.

The incredibly angry, confirmed homicidal subject. Great.

The interview room was not the sort of comfortable office space with a few fake plants and ergonomic chairs she'd like it to be. It really looked more of an interrogation room. It was closed behind a heavy metal door with a thick tempered glass window, just big enough to peek inside with your face right up to it. The space within was dark (for the comfort of the subject) but the desk and chairs sat in a bright spotlight. It was a fairly weak light, but maybe enough to make the subject think twice about jumping across the table to throttle the researchers to death. Maybe.

"Are you ready to do this?" Artemis asked her aunt, who was busy double checking her side-arm before stowing it in its holster.

"No. But I suppose we have to. Lets get on with it then. Did you bring it a snack?"

"Right here." Artemis plucked a warm glass tube full of deep red liquid from her pocket and gave it a cheerful shake. "Fresh squeezed."

"Hmph. I hope it appreciates it."

Ursula nodded in greeting to the backup catch team, who had now made it to their posts and hovered uncomfortably around the door.

"Ok. Here's the rundown one more time for how this will work. Artemis and I are in body armor, but obviously not our heads. If you have to fire into the room aim for center mass, fatal stopping power is authorized and encouraged. If it breaches containment it's a full red alert- taking it down will come before staff safety at that point. What I'm trying to say is, don't miss."

She turned back to the door and turned her key till it clicked. "I'm going in first."

Ursula took her place in the front, with Artemis behind her, and the back up team flanking them and bringing up the rear, ready and poised in case the subject tried to make a break for it. It didn't. The door slid open easily and quietly, and the two women shuffled in and took their seats.

The door scraped shut behind them, the echo of the heavy lock filled the chamber. There was no going back now. They were trapped in there with that thing- or, Ursula mused, it was trapped in there with her.

Artemis sat down with a bright, open smile and folded her hands on the table in front of her. The stark contrast of the floodlight to the rest of the darkened space made it somewhat difficult to see. Still, she could make out a tall figure backed into a far corner of the room.

He was very pointedly ignoring his chair, and making it a point to stand as far from the two interviewers as possible, arms crossed and a deep scowl of annoyance. A deep gutteral growl, something like the sound of water and air choking through a pipe, reverberated off of the thing in the dark corner.

Ursula put her hand on her side arm. "Easy, easy." She said quietly, as if she were trying to calm a feral animal. Perhaps she was. "Come on. Sit down. The head of the institute would like to speak to you."

"Oh." It finally spoke, in a deep and toneless voice. It took a step forward. "So you're the one responsible for this."

Artemis clenched her hands and sat stock still, forcing her fear back down her throat. Well, he spoke English, that would make things that much easier. It marched slowly to the table, glowered down at the two women for a moment, and finally pulled out the chair on the opposite side and sat down.

Artemis relaxed slightly. The being across the table from her seemed locked in a permanent state of annoyance. His face was a solid and unflinching scowl. Heavy lidded eyes set deep in their sockets glared out at her, glinting a dull red where the edge of the spotlight caught the tapetum lucidem. He was tall, and waif-thin. Emaciated, really. Every edge of every bone stuck out, and he was practically swimming in the secondhand shirt he'd been dressed in. His hair was long, and although freshly washed- unkempt, and hung around his face and long pointed ears in thick waves and curls that defied styling. As he sat, he crossed his arms again, and resumed his visible display of disdain for his captors.

He could have almost passed for human if it weren't for the fangs.

"Speak, then, fraulin." He demanded.

"Guten abend, mein herr." Artemis replied with a smile. Her heart was racing, but she had to remember. She was in charge, and she was the one conducting the interview.

"Thank you for sitting down and talking to me. My name is Artemis Van Helsing, I'm the head of the Van Helsing Institute. I just have a few preliminary questions for you. Can I get your name?"

"I am dead."

"Okay... how about a title? occupation?"

"Dead."

"Mhm, and your preferred pronouns?"

"Dead."

He spoke his answers with a deep sneer of contempt, showing off a hint of yellow fang. Violence may be actionable, but rudeness was not. Ursula snorted and crossed her arms in turn. Artemis cleared her throat and continued.

"Let's try it like this. According to our information, your name is Luther Strauss, you were a physician who died in Trier in 1790, or there abouts, at the age of 55. Is that correct? Are you herr Strauss?"

"You cut my nails."

"Excuse me?" Aremis flinched, taken off guard.

"You cut. My. Nails." He placed his palms flat on the table, drawing back slightly when the light touched him. His skin was pale to the point of transluscence, and deep blue veins were visible just beneath the surface like worms. His long fingers should have been tipped with claws- but Artemis instantly saw the problem. Yellow, short, freshly trimmed nails.

"Oh..." She paused. "I see... they shortened your claws."

"It was a standard safety procedure." Ursula interrupted. "Honestly, be grateful you're in here without the muzzle and the cuffs. There was a time if we needed to talk to a vampire the night began by literally pulling teeth."

"Auntie!"

"Grateful?" Strauss cut off the argument between the two women before it could begin. "I'm sorry. Perhaps my English is not so good as I believed. Did I mishear you telling me that I ought to be grateful of my treatment here?" His fingers curled angrily into the table. Despite their lack of clawed points, they left visible lines in the finish.

"You took me sleeping from my bed. Destroyed my home. Someone bathed me, dressed me, shackled me, all against my will. I have been violated, over and over, since the very moment you were near me- yet when I raise a single complaint, you tell me to be... grateful?" He rose to his feet as he spoke, becoming more agitated with every word. Ursula put her hand back on her pistol.

"I'm sorry but removing weaponry, or claws, is basic self defense." Ursula replied flatly.

"And what of my right to self defense, hm?" Strauss snorted. "If you wanted me good and harmless, you should have killed me. I may have forgiven an intrusion into my den. I will not forgive a violation of my person." He practically spat the words in defiance. He sat back down in his chair, looking sullen, lips pulled back to reveal a sharp set of teeth in apparent warning.

"Herr Strauss..." Artemis said softly. "We don't want you dead. We don't even necessarily want you harmless. Just... reasonable."

"Forgive me if I disbelieve you, fraulin. The name Van Helsing is not a positive one for a creature like me to hear. The fact that I remain unharmed long enough to be brought to some... compound only means my own fate can be one worse than destruction."

He paused and looked aside as if in thought. "Where... is this compound? Where am I?"

"St. Joseph, Minnesota. Or, thereabouts. Technically the insitute is out of town." She tried to smile warmly at her subject. If he was asking questions, he was talking. Talking was good.

"America? I'm in those dreadful British colonies, then? Pity." He sighed. "Fine. If you must torment me by refusing to destroy me, tell me then. What is it you want?"

Artemis glanced at her aunt, and then back to Strauss, and began her pitch.

"Well, you see. Historically the Van Helsing institute has been geared towards research of supernatural beings, but mostly, more or less for the purpose of exterminating them."

"I am painfully aware."

"Yes. I'm not proud of it."

"I am." Ursula shrugged.

Artemis frowned at her and continued. "...As I was saying, that was our OLD mission statement. I've been trying to shift focus to research that aims to actually know and understand the nonhuman citizens of the world around us. I think... I think we can cut down on the historic levels of violence between humans and other persons by fostering relationships built on mutual respect and-"

"HA!" The vampire let out an ugly, barking laugh that subsided to an evil chuckle.

"Mutual respect! You put me in a muzzle! You don't even trust me to have my own fingernails! You deprive me of freedom, and of my own physical integrity, and then you request mutual respect. I had heard Americans were stupid, I did not expect it to be so severe."

Ursula bristled. "If you knew what side your bread was buttered on you'd watch your damn mouth."

"Or what?" he hissed. "You've been itching to shoot since the moment you broke into my home. So what do you wait for? Do you need an excuse?"

"You know what, Strauss?" Artemis interrupted, suddenly talking loudly over both of them. "You're right."

"Ehh?" He tilted his head.

"You're right. You weren't treated fairly or respectfully. And for that, I am sorry." She continued. "It was never my intention to frighten you or insult you, we used the methods we did to try and ensure safety for all parties. Ultimately though, you were right. You were abducted. It wasn't the right thing to do. Here."

She stuck her hand in her pocket and produced her small vial of blood. It foamed slightly in red bubbles at the top, while the settled contents were now a dark, deep purple. "This is for you."

"What is this? Do you think it's THAT easy to placate me? Am I so base? So desperate?"

"No, not at all. But that isn't just anyone's blood, Strauss." She folded her hands. "It's  my blood. Freshly taken from my own veins just a few moments before we came in. It's a little tit-for-tat. I've taken a piece of you, now I'm offering you a piece of me."

Strauss raised his eyebrows in surprise. He was, momentarily, struck silent. He looked down at the little sample cup and gingerly reached out, lifting it between a finger and thumb as if it were very delicate.

"Interesting." He said softly, before gently removing the lid and lifing it beneath his nose, testing the scent.

"It is a very rare vampire who can say they've had a taste of a Van Helsing."

"You can be one of the first." She quipped cheerfully.

The vampire put the vial to his lips and tilted his head back. In one fluid motion, he downed the small cup like a shot. He stood quietly for a moment, savoring the taste and examining the label on the cup in his hand. 'Artemis Van Helsing, A/B+,' date, bar code, tube type. He nodded silently, and spoke again at last.

"What was it you wanted to talk about?"

Artemis exhaled sharply. The barriers had finally been broken. Don't fuck up now.

"I've been doing research for a long time, Strauss. It has been the opinion of the founders of my institute that vampires and humans have an adversarial, predator-prey relationship. None of those founders, however, were sceintists or anthropologists. At best they were theologians, which leaves a lot to be desired in the textbooks they left behind." She sighed.

"And you disagree?"

"I do. I have a theory, and modern case studies back this up, that vampires and humans are SUPPOSED to live in symbiosis. Think about it. A human village has a... a patron vampire, lets call it. This vampire can hold sway over animals- protecting flocks from predators. They're incredibly strong and fast and resiliant, making them excellent security and emergency response, and they live so long that they have decades, even centuries of learned experience to draw from. All of this, and in return they get to be fed and protected from elements like sunlight. It's such an obvious benefit to both parties. When it breaks down and you have an adversarial relationship the whole thing becomes a giant... a giant CLUSTERFUCK and suddenly you have killings and revenge killings and... and groups that should be working together are all left in gory shambles and it just makes no sense."

The words tumbled out of her mouth, laced heavily with frustration. She huffed quietly as she caught her breath. Strauss raised an eyebrow as he listened to her spiel.

"What evidence do you have that you are correct?"

"That's the best part. You're right here."

"Me?"

"Yes!" She clasped her hands together in excitement. "Look, we didn't just pick your name out of a hat. We've been following you for a long time. Actually, a VERY long time. My first records of you are all the way from 1899 in our archives. It describes a rat catcher by the name of Luther Struass in Trier, Germany. There's just one note in the file. Do you know what it said?"

"Tell me."

"Harmless."

She smiled. "That's all it had to say. Do you know how rare it is to find a vampire living in a human settlement with such a low incidence of anthropophagy?"

"What a nice thing for them to say about me." Strauss shrugged. "Too bad it isn't true. I am fully responsible for a recent human death."

"Well, there's another funny thing about that." Artemis said, practically winking at him. "Apparently, there's some talk in town that maybe you weren't just going after that guy because you were hungry. Maybe you weren't acting entirely in self defense, but I get the sense you may have been defending someone else. I was hoping you could elaborate."

"Don't romanticize it." he snorted. "I am not entirely without empathy. I have no desire to impede the lives of those around me for no reason. Do not be fooled, however, I still must eat. Rats will not nourish me forever. He was a rich man from a rich family, one that was adept at keeping him out from under the law when he let his cruelty run rampant. I was asked by my neighbors to protect them, and in return I would be fed a rare meal, and that was that. A simple transaction and nothing more."

"Exactly!" She nodded. "Symbiosis. Quid pro quo. The community rallied around you, and you protected them in their time of need. If it wasn't for an artificial intereferance in the form of the law, the system would have worked perfectly."

"The law has a way of doing that." The vampire mused. "Well, beyond asking questions, what is it you actually want to DO with me?"

"Well. Let's just say that... the law is inadequate in a lot of ways. Eventually yes, maybe, in time, you could be put to work. For now though. Mostly I just..."

"Yes?"

"Mostly we need to just get you cleaned up and teach you to live in society again. Don't take this the wrong way. Living in a hole in the ground, naked, not socializing... you're not stupid, Strauss. And you aren't an animal. You can't possibly be mentally well like this."

"Hmph." He chuckled. "So this was all an elaborate intervention for my own good."

"That's not all it was, no, but it's a non zero part. I can't force you, Strauss, but with a murder on your record I can't let you go either. I'm going to try really, really hard not to harm you any further, though. What do you say? Do you want to give it a shot?"

"Well, fraulin, it appears there isn't really much of a choice."

"Frau Van Helsing, please, if you must insist on honorifics. Mutual respect, remember, Herr Strauss?"

The vampire smiled.

"Very well, Frau Van Helsing. Tell me where to go from here."

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

The Kind that Never Slows Down | Damian Wayne

✦ pairing — older!Damian Wayne x female!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 10k

✦ summary — Gotham is hit with a spell that changes your perception of Damian forever.

✦ warnings — nsfw, semi-public sex, non-con sex (not really but just to be safe), angst, language, light jealousy, light possessiveness, mentions of food, smut, unprotected sex (please don’t do this), consensual sex, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, fluff.

✦ author's note — this one should’ve been published a long time ago, but I just got around editing it. Hope you like it.

════════════════════════

The abandoned building smelled like piss and mold, the only light available entered through a broken window, and you were pretty sure you had heard rats roaming around.

But you didn’t care. Robin’s hands were all over you, plump lips sucking on your neck like his life depended on it as he pounded into you.

It wasn’t enough.

He had skipped foreplay on your insistence. You needed him more than anything, if he didn’t fuck you right there in that moment you wouldn’t be able to survive.

He grunted out of pleasure as you clenched around him, gripping your hips to ground himself as he picked up his already relentless pace.

It still wasn’t enough.

Having his cum down your thighs and marks over your neck from his kisses wasn’t enough either. Your body craved all of him, including his whining and abrasive words.

Noise outside prompted him to part from you completely. Both of you fixed yourselves as best as you could in silence, avoiding looking at the other.

You followed him outside with a sense of guilt hovering over you like a dark cloud. You felt like you had just gotten out of a trance after committing the worst of the crimes.

Nightwing stopped you by yelling, “Where were you? I looked for you two everywhere.”

“We were looking for you,” Robin lied smoothly.

Nightwing’s shoulders slumped as he nodded. “Well, Zatana undid the spell.”

Suddenly Damian’s urgent voice as he said he needed you made all the sense in the world. His need for you and your need for him had been magic-induced.

Of course it had been! You two were mere acquaintances who fought all the time for the most minimal things in the world or ignored the other to the point of making people around you uncomfortable. It was a surprise that you worked well together at night.

“A lust spell, right?”

“Well, no,” Nightwing chuckled. “According to her, the spell showed people what their heart desires the most.”

Robin stiffened beside you, and you felt every drop of blood drain from your face and fall to your feet.

“Did you hear a lot of people having sex?”

“Yeah,” you croaked. “Tons of them.”

The moment you got home, you ripped your suit off and walked into the shower. You washed his cum off you, scrubbing your body twice just to make sure.

Wishing the soap could erase the marks on your neck and the memory of the way he had moaned your name, you decided to take a pill to sleep.

You hadn’t needed one of those in months, but Damian was that special. Or annoying.

God, you hated him and his stupid ego. He would surely find funny the lengths you would have to go to put this in the past.

He loved being the center of attention as much as he hated you, that was why you always tried your best to avoid him. When you didn’t avoid him, he made weird faces at you and scoffed every time you laughed.

Turning the lamp off, you hoped for the best.

Meanwhile, Damian ignored Dick’s inquiries. Why did his brother care if he was extremely quiet or if he looked like he was about to explode?

Your scent was all over him, still bewitching him, overpowering his sweat and the smell of everybody around him.

Looking down at his hands, the gloved palms that had hours before gripped and traced as much of your body as your suit had allowed him to, Damian clenched his jaw.

How could he have been so stupid? There was no other reason for you to beg him to fuck you the way you had — magic! He fucking hated magic.

But Dick’s explanation... that was worse. More stupid. He hated it too. His brother had to be wrong.

It wouldn’t be the first time someone from his family was wrong regarding magic, and Zatanna while an expert had her own biases.

Besides, his heart could have been desiring to get off the most just like yours. The two of you were busy people after all.

“Did the spell show you anything, Dami?”

The prettiest face he had seen in his entire life. “A pet demon.”

He regretted the lie the moment he said it. Damian wished a lot of things could be different. His mother would be furious if she knew how sentimental he was becoming, if she found out how often he gave into wishful thinking.

For once, he wanted to be open. But as always something was stopping him. Sometimes he wondered if he had been born to be like that or if his grandfather had simply lied.

Leaving the cave the moment he was dismissed, he trotted upstairs almost praying Dick wouldn’t follow him.

He couldn’t stop replaying the way you clung to him, or the harshness of your kiss. It had felt real, and too perfect to be happening to him all at once.

But you hated him, everybody and their mother knew that.

════════════════════════

Barbara had never been subtle around you. There had never been a need for such a thing — she was like the older sister you never had, you two carried the other’s secrets and burdens.

Back when you met her, barely as a teen, she provided a safe place you only had ever dreamt of having. You vowed to give it all back; she deserved it.

“What’s up with the turtleneck?” She asked, unsubtly so with her bright eyes on your neck.

“I have a cold,” you feigned a rasp. Perhaps this secret wouldn’t be shared.

“Mmmh. Really?” She poured herself a cup of coffee. “Dick said Damian was feeling under the weather too.”

Yup. Definitely not sharing. It would be embarrassing. She had always had the theory that you were in love with Damian just because you complained about him on a weekly basis.

It was like she had never met him.

In a way, the theory was correct. But it lacked a lot of details — a spell had confirmed it from all things. It sounded ironic, quite suitable to your situation.

“Flu season, I guess.”

It was a bad lie. Everybody knew when flu season arrived because Tim started getting a stuffy nose and limiting his consumption of Red Bull in order to drink more water.

”Did the spell from the other night show you anything?”

You faked a cough, shaking your head. “I was busy on patrol.”

“I was too and I saw Dick.”

“That’s just wishful thinking, Babs. It’s cute, though.”

Her not seeing Dick would have surprised you. They had known each other for years, gone through so much together... most people wanted what they had.

“Is there a particular reason why you’re lying to me?”

You wrapped your fingers around your mug. The heat transferring from the ceramic to your palm reminded you of Damian’s breath on your lips.

Taking a gulp of coffee, you blinked rapidly. “You don’t think it’s cute?”

She rolled her eyes. “Everybody saw something. It’s how those spells work.”

“There must be something wrong with me.”

There really had to be something awfully wrong with you. Saying out loud that you wanted Damian more than anything in the world terrified you.

It was a normal thing. Not wanting him specifically, but wanting someone — everybody craved attention and love at some level, you just happened to crave Damian’s at every single one.

He was the problem, not you.

════════════════════════

Movie marathons weren’t something Damian really cared for, but they were better than hearing his father complain about minor things like if he had ruined a goon’s lungs or whatever.

Alfred called it bonding time which he supposed was a fair assessment. He found Tim’s taste in movies quite good, and now he didn’t get the urge to strangle his slightly older brother in his sleep.

His stepmother was there too. Selina had been the reason why Bruce shifted his ways, she urged him to either find a balance or stop adding people to the team.

Duke made him pass a bowl of popcorn to Tim who did the same to Stephanie. The bowl landed on Dick who was on the row behind them, just next to Jason.

Getting more comfortable on his seat, his eyes fell on the empty spot to Duke’s right. Cassandra used to sit there until one afternoon Duke couldn’t seem to shut up and she asked you to switch places. You always went with the things Duke said, sometimes even asked his opinion.

Damian complained once, telling his sister to suck it up next time. But Cassandra would never do something he told her to, that was perhaps why she was his favorite.

Everyone around him was in an amazing mood which he didn’t understand. Bruce had just tried to tell a joke, and Jason was mocking how dumb it was.

Selina laughed loudly, in that way people did when they felt genuinely happy. At least that was what he supposed; Damian wasn’t sure he had ever experienced happiness.

The sound of an approaching wheelchair made his ears perk up. Not a single pair of shoes could be heard against the floor. Fighting a frown, he turned to look at the door.

Barbara waved at all of them with a smile, maneuvering her wheelchair to sit next to Dick’s seat. Craning his neck with the excuse of saying hi, Damian watched her give Dick a chaste kiss.

“Where’s (Nickname)?” Dick asked, lifting his arm to rest it on the back of Barbara’s chair.

“She said she was feeling sick. Although...” Barbara giggled, leaning onto Dick’s arm. “I heard the voice of a guy in the background so she might have company.”

Damian felt sick upon hearing such a thing. First, you had asked to be paired up with Duke for patrol and now this? It was too much even for your pettiness — granted, he had planned on putting more distance between you two, but he hadn’t gone around trying to find someone to erase you.

The thought never crossed him, not for a single moment. He had wondered why he wished to cling to a memory when he had never been the sentimental type, but he realized that to be the entire point of deep desires.

“Well, it’s time,” Stephanie commented, “she’s been single for too long.”

“Let’s hope we don’t have to scare him off,” Selina added.

Damian stood up from the now uncomfortable seat, forcing Duke to do the same so he could leave. Duke stared at him weirdly, with worry, as if he knew something Damian didn’t want him to.

He probably did. Damian had been careless two times in a row. God, he needed to get a fucking grip. Unconsciously, he fiddled with the neck of his sweater.

“Oi,” Jason called for him, “where are you going?”

“Out,” he answered angrily. “If other... members... may skip this, why can’t I?”

Barbara and Dick shared a sideways glance.

Only telling Alfred that he would be back later, Damian followed the path towards the garage. Skipping his bike for once, finding himself thinking he wanted to take as little shortcuts as possible for whatever reason, he took his car.

Damian had always been a fan of driving. He didn’t know why, it was tedious and didn’t serve many purposes in the grand scheme of things; not to him. Ever since he learned, he took every opportunity he got to drive whichever vehicle he could get his hands on.

Having control over vehicles and machines was nice, he supposed. If people were a little bit more like said things, everything would have been easier. The world would be boring, but easier to habit.

Saving people was easy, caring about them from afar gave him enough human interaction for his standards, but he would never understand them.

And for the first time since he tried to decode his mother’s attitude, he wanted to understand someone more than anything. Perhaps that way said someone would understand him back and untangle this mess.

The building before him wasn’t welcoming. He had never put foot into that place, but he knew every single person that lived there — patrol gave him that kind of knowledge. And he did some research months ago, but no one needed to be aware of such thing.

He pressed his ear to the door he had been looking for. The dishwasher was on, but he couldn’t pick up any other sound. Damian knocked on said door three times, quickly and loudly. There was no answer so he did it again. A door slammed shut inside the apartment, a groan accompanied by a string of curses got clearer as stomps approached him.

Standing tall and straight, he felt a thrill down his spine as the lock was loudly fiddled with.

You swung the door open, rubbing your eye. He observed you had thrown a turtleneck on, upside down. Damian walked past you without invitation, analyzing the living room.

There were no clothes scattered all over the floor like he had imagined he would find.

“What are you doing here?”

He ignored you, exploring the kitchen. Damian opened the fridge, narrowing his eyes as he inspected. He did the same with the cupboards.

Shoving your bedroom door open, he found the bed undone. The TV was on, playing an old movie. He heard your steps as you followed him, repeating your question.

“Is someone from the team in danger?” You asked next.

Damian pulled your closet open, tilting his head. You could’ve been more organized, he admitted to himself, but there was nothing unusual.

Craning his neck to look at you, he inquired, “Where is he?”

“Where’s who?! What’s going on?”

He stared at you, waiting for you to crack. To his surprise, you stared back — defiant, blinking less and less as the seconds passed.

You were mad, he could tell. It only made him grow more suspicious. Tensing under your eyes, sharp instead of soft like they usually were, he scoffed; he couldn’t show he cared.

“Dude,” you insisted, “you are scaring me. What happened?”

Shaking his head, he pushed past you again and continued his search. The bathroom was warm, the mirror fogged up and tiles sprinkled with drops of water.

He turned around, watching you again. Well, your hair was wet now that he paid more attention to it...

Damian checked in the small laundry room too, but he found bottles of detergent and folded towels next to your suit. Nothing else. No one else.

“Damian—“

“Shut up.” He pointed at you with a finger.

“You are the one who came to my place to look for whatever or whoever you are searching for! Unprompted!”

He didn’t answer.

You went back to your bedroom to turn the TV off and pause the movie, resigned to the fact that he had ruined your self-care day.

No one knew you would be home that day. You had ignored everybody’s calls and avoided being active on social media just in case they were stalking you. Turns out the utmost secrecy isn’t enough to avoid Damian Wayne.

He stood in the living room, looking down at the coffee table as if expecting the furniture to turn into something else. Fixing his eyes on the centerpiece he knew Dick had given you as a gift because it reminded him of you, Damian furrowed his brows.

“Have you been alone the entire day?” He asked, feeling your presence behind him.

“My neighbor brought some cake. Other than that, yeah.”

“Barbara said you had... company.”

“I haven’t talked to Babs in days.”

Barbara had continued asking about what you saw that night with the spell, and you weren’t willing to say it still. Weeks had passed, but it felt like mere seconds had at times. It was so easy for her to ask, to assume things.

Only you knew the conflict you were feeling. She would never understand how awful it was to find out the one you desire the most is the one who likes you the least.

You had entertained the naive idea that he was in the same position, but the more you replayed what had happened, the more you convinced yourself it had been one-sided. He gave in because the release was pleasant, nothing else. People say things they don’t mean while having sex.

You had done it before, for fuck’s sake. You had faked having a good time before, who was to say Damian hadn’t done the same with you?

“Have you seen anybody else?” He blurted.

“My neighbor, I told you.”

He reformulated, “Have you had sex with anybody else?”

You considered lying, you really did. It would make the tension go away, you would have to see him around with other people but it would save you from a lot of embarrassment.

A part of you told you it was stupid, that you wouldn’t be able to take it. Much less when the people who usually took some interest in you tended to ghost you for whatever reason.

“Not since that night, if that’s what you’re asking,” you admitted.

“Good.” It slipped, but he didn’t care. He meant it, and it felt nice to say things he meant, no matter how harsh they could sound.

You rounded the room, crossing your arms as you stood in front of him. “Why are you here?”

“I was told you had company,” he repeated himself.

“And your logic was to interrupt me?”

“Yes.”

You couldn’t believe him. Did he want you to be alone and miserable your entire life?

The worst part was that you would probably be. Finding out you liked him, that you wanted to have him around, that you craved his attention, and his touch, rocked your world and shattered it.

Who would ever compare to him? His flaws were other people’s better qualities, even you who didn’t know his good side that well was aware of that.

“Do you really hate me that much? I’ve never done anything to you!”

He finally lifted his head. You wished he hadn’t, you wished you didn’t have to see anything other than anger in his handsome features. “I don’t hate you. I would make your life a living hell if I did.”

“You could’ve fooled me,” you chuckled, way more sadly than you thought yourself capable to feel regarding anything that came from him. “You roll your eyes at me every time I visit your house, Damian.”

“It’s not intended at you.”

“The scoffs sure are,” you reproached him, “and your stupid comments of how unfunny anything that makes me laugh is.”

“It’s not because of you,” he shouted. Shaking his head, vexed, he twisted his mouth as he huffed his anger out through his nose. “Cassandra’s jokes aren’t even that funny.”

“See?”

“Why don’t you laugh at mine?” He reproached now, crossing his arms to mimic your stance. “Why is it always one of my siblings or my friends who get a positive response but not me?”

“Oh, come on! You’re saying that like I didn’t come by hearing you say my name a few weeks ago!” Your words stunned him into silence which you used to your advantage. “You never tell jokes in front of me, how am I supposed to laugh at them? I always feel like shit because you only accept being around me on patrol, you entrench yourself in your room and make a point to slam the door shut just so I hear... you know what? Forget it.”

“I hate seeing you with them,” he said, wishing his words hadn’t carried that much emotion. “I always bribe people to not ask you out or to leave you alone, I have to watch you hug Jon and kiss my siblings’ faces. You’re always so damn nice until I appear... I prefer being alone than enduring your indifference.”

You widened your eyes. “You bribe people to not ask me out?!”

“Is that the only upsetting part from everything I said?” he snapped.

“No, no. Of course not. I just...”

He hummed. “It’s stupid, I know.”

“A waste of money, honestly.”

“If I didn’t, you would be with someone else right now. Probably Duke, you’ve always liked him.”

“You bribed Duke?” You let a small laugh out. “Duke? Our Duke?”

“Yes! Stop mocking me.”

“Duke knows everything, you know?” You admitted, uncrossing your arms.

You hadn’t been able to keep things to yourself for that long. Seeing Damian around suddenly hurt. The feeling had always been there, but finding out that he was your heart’s deepest desire wrecked your perception

When you told Duke, he reacted casually, as if you had told him the most obvious thing in the world. He said you and Damian were the only ones who hadn’t seen it.

“He knew certain things before I did, in fact,” you added. “Besides, I see him as a brother and he sees me as a sister.”

Damian nodded. It made sense, now Duke’s attitude seemed normal in comparison to what Damian had assumed.

He always assumed things. Bruce had told him once that he needed to learn to ask before acting out — this was the first time Damian found his father’s words useful.

“Why did you kiss me that night?”

“I believe it was more than kissing.”

“Yes.” Damian hadn’t been able to forget, he never would. “But why?”

“I felt... I don’t know how to explain it,” you confessed.

The room suddenly felt small, extremely hot. You shed the stupid turtleneck, it wasn’t like he hadn’t done the stubborn marks on your neck.

Make-up had hidden them well for a few days, and most of them had faded already, but there were two bite-marks, too big and deep, that needed more healing time.

“I was scared,” you told him, “that’s why I felt the rush to take your hand. And it was enough for a while, but then it wasn’t, I wanted you closer.”

“I couldn’t breathe. I assumed I was being poisoned. Then you took my hand and I panicked for a moment, I thought...” his voice broke.

You gave him time, trying your hardest to hide how surprised you were by hearing him like that.

“I thought you were having the same symptoms,” he rasped. “I’ve been trained to fight those things off, but you haven’t and I knew you would die. Your hand made it better for a few minutes, then I needed you closer too.”

“We can forget about it if you want,” you assured him, avoiding looking at his face in case your comment relieved him.

“I don’t.”

Damian reached for your hand in the same fashion you had that cursed —literally— night, shakily, urgently.

And in the same fashion he had, you allowed him to take it.

He brought you closer to him. You observed he looked more tired than ever, perhaps because things had been tense for the past weeks. You couldn’t have possibly looked too different.

“The spell doesn’t have to dictate this,” he said, tilting his head to look into your eyes. “It won’t. You know I don’t trust magic.”

“The spell is not the problem,” you whispered.

“I didn’t think there was a problem.”

“We have never spent time together outside of patrol, Damian.”

He sighed, nodding. “Get changed. Let’s go out.”

Only a lunatic would give their self-care day up for a guy. Well, you didn’t really care if people thought you were a lunatic, and Damian wasn’t just a guy — still, giving up the ice cream in your fridge was a sin.

A sin you were happy to commit.

Damian waited for you to get changed, patiently if anyone asked you. It had taken you a few minutes to even choose something appropriate, based on his own outfit because that was just logic.

He slipped his cellphone into his pocket while you locked the door. As you turned around to take off, he offered his hand.

You took it, intertwining your fingers with his as you walked down the hallway. In the middle of the stairway, you bumped into one of your neighbors who smiled sweetly at both of you. To your surprise, Damian smiled back.

Also surprised to discover he hadn’t taken his bike, you bowed as a thank you when he opened the door of his car for you.

“Do you want to put some music on?” he offered.

“You pick,” you said, curious as to what he would play.

You could’ve sworn he was nervous as he stared down at his phone, looking for something to play. He scrolled down, then up — he switched apps, then continued scrolling.

“I’m not picky.” Your tone was soft, an attempt to assure him.

“I don’t really listen to a variety of genres.”

“What do you listen to the most?”

“Classical. My mother got me used to it.”

You rested the side of your head on the backrest of the seat, looking at him. “You can play that if you want. Or we can just talk about the weather and whatnot. I think it might rain tonight. You like rain, right?”

He locked his cellphone, turning to face you. “Yes. It calms me.”

“I hated it as a kid,” you disclosed, hoping it would ease the tension and better his mood. “I was scared of thunderstorms.”

Igniting the engine, he prompted you to continue, “Not anymore?”

“No. My mom used to tell me that the only reason why they were so noisy was that the sky was happy to unwind and eventually I believed it.”

“That’s cute.”

“I had a phase in which I was in a bad mood if it didn’t rain.” You laughed at your own comment. “Now I like it just fine, less obsessively.”

“I had a similar fixation with snow.” He laughed too, and your stomach did somersaults — it was the first time you had heard him laugh genuinely.

Damian didn’t talk about life at The League often, he didn’t feel compelled when he knew the preconceptions that came with simply mentioning the place or his maternal family.

In fact, everything Batman Inc.’s members knew had been from Bruce. He liked the secrecy, those were parts of him and no one else. But he was willing to share tiny pieces with you.

He saw it as something supposed to be shared between two people interested in starting a relationship.

So he continued, “I would only climb mountains if they were covered by snow. My mother called me a brat many times, but she gave into my wishes for a while.”

“How did you grow out of it?”

“I broke my elbow.” He briefly looked to the side and then took a turn. “I proved her right, and I didn’t like not having the last word so I started despising the snow. I don’t mind it now.”

Before you could ask anything else, he pulled into the grocery store’s parking lot.

He picked a basket once inside the store, making a motion for you to follow him.

“What are we buying?”

“Fruit and whatever you want for a picnic.”

Realizing you weren’t near the fruits aisle, you gripped his sweater, steering him to the other side. Of course he wasn’t used to doing groceries.

He silently allowed you to guide him which was a win, Damian hated being told what to do no matter how small the suggestion was.

It didn’t take either of you too long to get everything you needed, but he spent ten minutes choosing a blanket as if he wouldn’t ruin the poor thing with mud and insects.

Passing the clothing area on your way to do checkout, you elbowed him on the side. He stared down at you, then followed your eyes as he realized they were fixed on something.

Damian groaned. “You’re so funny.”

“Oh, come on! You’re telling me you wouldn’t buy Batman underwear?”

“No.”

“You’re lying.”

“I am not.”

You narrowed your eyes, keeping your laugh in when you saw what resembled a pout on his face. “Robin’s?” you tried.

“Perhaps.”

You lost it at that. “Are they comfy?”

“Will you stop laughing if I say yes?”

“Only if it’s the truth.”

He just nodded, then did the gesture upward so you would resume the path towards the exit.

Pleased with his answer, you walked towards the checkout line. Damian stood behind you, breathing your scent in.

“Is that a new perfume?”

You craned your neck. “How did you know?”

Shrugging, hoping he was being nonchalant enough, he said, “I have a good nose.”

After a brief fight over who would pay for the groceries, —which he won by saying it had been his idea—, you left the store in direction of the park.

Your hand found his naturally, as if your palm’s place was to be pressed against his bigger one.

It felt good, but not really because of that bullshit —true, but bullshit still when magic was so unpredictable— of him being what your heart desired the most. The truth was that you could feel in his grip how much he wanted this to go well.

Swinging your clasped hands, you walked around the park, looking for the perfect spot to sit at.

You found a spot away from the kids running around, against a tree. Damian laid the blanket on the grass, placing the paper bags onto it next.

He slid an arm around your shoulders, using his other hand to eat.

“Do you think your family is already spying on us?” you asked gazing at him as you leaned onto his arm.

“I am certain.”

“You don’t mind?”

He lightly smiled at you, reaching for a strawberry. “Not at all. Do you?”

“Nah. I’m not looking forward to Barbara’s teasing, though.”

“Why did she tell us you had a guy over?” He bit down into the fruit.

“She has always said I have feelings for you.” You wiped the corner of his mouth with your thumb. It never occurred to either of you that you would need napkins. “And I guess she put two and two together when we covered our necks and used the same excuse.”

“In my defense, I could have blamed Tim.”

“In my defense,” you copied his smart-ass tone, “I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“You told Duke from all people.”

“Duke was supportive.”

Damian hummed sarcastically. “I’m sure everybody knows the details already. He loves to gossip.”

Seeing you frown before you turned to look to the other side, he reached for your farthest cheek, softly pushing your face so you would stare at him.

“I don’t care if they know.”

You wished you could have believed him. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have avoided me the same way I avoided you.”

“I cared,” he clarified, “not anymore.”

“What changed?”

“Me, my priorities… my vision of you, of this.”

You took an apple in your hand. Rolling the fruit in your grasp, you only nodded. Saying something else would have been nice, appropriate even, but words escaped you.

The fact that he didn’t hate you was still pretty new, shocking to some extent. His willingness to be seen with you by family and strangers alike was a huge compliment, and a big deal.

It was too serious so suddenly… you liked it no matter how scary it was. There had to be a reason why he felt so sure about this, and trusting Damian had never been a bad idea.

Except from that time when you ended up with stitches all over your arm, but you could let that go if it meant having him by your side. As corny as it sounded.

“Meetings will be weird, won’t they?” You sunk your teeth into the apple, hearing him chuckle.

“Less awkward, I hope. Although I enjoy vexing my siblings.”

“We can have fake fights in front of them if you want.”

“And blame them for our nonexistent problems?”

“Of course, I’m sure they will try to give their input either way.”

Damian groaned. He feared just that. It would be out of a place of care, he knew, but it didn’t make it less intrusive — he could picture Dick, sitting down in front of him in the cave, with a big smile and dangling his finger as he told him the way he was supposed to treat you.

He liked to imagine that Cassandra would only threaten him. Perhaps Stephanie would do the same and stop Tim from patronizing him.

Not wanting to ruin the moment by thinking what would Jason and Duke do, he shifted and changed the subject to the movie you had been watching earlier.

You explained that it had been one of your favorites and told him the plot between bites, amused by the fact that he was trying to look interested even though you knew it wasn’t his type of movie.

He told you about the movies the team was supposed to watch that day. You didn’t feel guilty for skipping; as much as you loved them, you needed time for yourself.

Spending time with Damian on this occasion counted as time for yourself, although you would make yourself clear to him that you would eventually need alone time for real. It was a mere exception.

The two of you walked around the park for a while, talking about random things. He was surprisingly easy to talk to once you tried, and God did you try.

It couldn’t get better than hearing him speak casually, about the architecture nearby and the types of flora around the park, in a light tone and with his hand in yours.

Your fingers played with his, and once again you found yourself in awe of him, of how comfortable he was with the mindless gesture and his willingness to keep up with it. You doubted someone would ever surprise you as much as Damian did.

Slowing down a little bit to take the scenery in, you naturally tightened the grip of your fingers on his.

It was such a nice day to be outside… perhaps the weather cast had been wrong and it wouldn’t rain.

The city was bathed in a pink glow as the sun set, unrecognizable. No one would have guessed such scenery to take place in a deeply violent and corrupted place, not even the most optimistic person in the world.

You remembered clearly how surprised Jon had been the first time he saw something other than thundering rain and gray skies in Gotham.

Glittering under the sunlight, the flowers at the end of the playground looked alive for once as the sky stunned many around you. And when you turned to look at Damian, curious about his reaction, you found his eyes solely on you.

The trees, so green under the light of dusk, had nothing on Damian’s eyes. Such thought, so familiar that you felt as though it wasn’t the first time it crossed your mind, so natural that you found it a fact and not an opinion, made you forget about everything around you.

He continued gazing at you, finding the curiosity in your beautiful eyes flattering. Oh, how much he enjoyed being the object of your attention.

The scenery behind you was gorgeous, he was certain of it. In his opinion, you complimented the view in ways nothing would ever do — there was something in your peaceful semblance as you tore your gaze off the sky and admired him instead.

You could’ve been sharing a silent moment with the strangers around you, one of those things he had heard you say once made the world make sense, yet your eyes were on him, on his face. And it made him feel important like nothing before had.

His father’s praises, the ones he had sought for so long were nothing in comparison. Dick’s patience although fundamental to his development as a man fell short against the way your eyes were shining for him.

Twilight swirled around you, but his eyes never left your face nor yours did his. The world didn’t exist, and if it existed, then it didn’t matter — not when you found him worth all your attention, not when he thought you to be brighter than the sun itself.

The air in the car as he drove you back to your place was thick and tense. He hadn’t said a word since he told you about that time Bruce inaugurated the school across the park.

Damian looked lost in thought, like often you had seen him while out on patrol. The places his mind took him had never compromised his performance — you admired that.

Bruce had called him out an infinite amount of times, but he couldn’t do anything else when Damian always delivered. You had wondered how he did it many times, but now you had to assume Talia taught him.

He walked you into the building, fingers brushing your wrist as you fell in natural silence.

Fumbling for your keys, you felt him lean onto the wall just next to your door. You took more time than needed to open the door, hoping he would say or do something.

When he didn’t, you pushed the door open and turned on your heel to face him.

“I had an amazing day with you,” he said, eyes on yours.

You breathed out, “I did too.”

Why couldn’t the day last longer? You logically knew you would see him again, but something inside you wanted him to stay. You wanted him to stay, better said.

Would it be too bold, too sudden, to invite him in? He probably had patrol that night — hell, you were supposed to be getting into your suit at that moment instead of pondering on whether you were brave enough to imply you wanted to spend more time with him; preferably in your room, naked.

Fuck it. If he said no, you would say you had patrol either way.

“Do you want to co—“

“Yes,” he answered before you could finish the question, letting a relieved sigh out.

You pulled him into the apartment, arm around his neck as you used your other hand to close the door.

His lips fell on yours as he kissed you slowly, arms delicately around your plump form. He took his time to map your lips with his own, somewhat afraid of kissing you wrong.

Damian grew confident as you attempted to kiss him more firmly, as steadily as your giddiness allowed you to. Tasting the fruit he had eaten earlier off his tongue, you wrapped your other arm around his torso, bringing him closer.

Smiling on your lips, he angled his face, kissing you with the same urgency he had the other night.

Eagerly, he tangled his tongue with yours until both of you were panting in search of air. As you caught your breath, Damian fiddled with the ends of your turtleneck.

Clearing his throat, he asked, “Can I take this off? It’s getting in the way.”

“I can take it off—“

“I would like to do it, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t,” you assured him.

Damian slid the turtleneck off you slowly, huffing a small laugh when the blouse you were wearing under inched up. Placing the item to the side, he leaned to kiss your jaw.

Placing your hands on his sides, you slanted your head upon feeling his lips travel down to your neck.

He kissed the bite-mark left from before, softly, giving it small pecks. “Did I go overboard with this one?”

“A little bit. It’s been a pain in the ass to cover.”

“I’ll be more careful from now on,” he promised, leaving more light kisses over the area.

Your pulse quickened at the implication of his words. Damian felt the rush of blood on your jugular where he scattered wet kisses.

He trailed his lips up, breathing in your ear. You shuddered, fighting a whine as your hands looked for the hem of his crewneck sweater.

You inched the sweater up to his chest and waited for him to stand straight so you would be able to take it off. Damian was too busy kissing your face to care.

“Hey,” you did whine this time. “Damian, let me take it off.”

Smirking on your cheek, he hummed. Slowly, painfully so, he pulled away from you.

Once you had gotten rid of the sweater, you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him into a kiss. He curled his arm around you again, wanting you flush against him.

He slid his hand down and took a handful of your ass, making you buckle your hips up. Dragging his lips to your jaw again, he said, “Your stupid suit didn’t let me do that last time.”

One of your hands stayed on his shoulder while the other landed on his hip. Your fingers played with the loops of his jeans as he continued gripping and grabbing your ass like he had never touched one.

Angling your face, you attached your lips to his neck. Damian’s grip on you tightened.

“I want to take it slow,” he whispered, “but you’re making it really hard.”

“Metaphorically?” You mouthed his throat, hand sliding down to his chest, squeezing itself between both your bodies.

“And literally,” he whined. You loved the sound, for once not demanding yet still bratty.

As your hand slipped downward, you continued kissing his neck, paying special attention to the juncture of his neck and shoulder. You hoped your lipstick wouldn’t dirty his shirt — or maybe you hoped it would, both were fine with you.

Damian put some space between you, understanding what you were trying to do. While you undid his jeans, he undid yours, considering it would be better to get rid of everything on his way now that he was still feeling patient.

Shoes and socks off, the two of you shed your jeans without care of where they landed. Now the living room’s floor truly was covered in scattered items of clothing and this time Damian enjoyed the view.

“Come here.” He reached for you, eyes on your chest as his hands ghosted your sides.

You looked up at him, unable to hide the enjoyment you got from his hungry eyes being all over you. Following their movements, you also observed their slow dilatation.

He inched a hand up your side. You assumed he would finally knead your breast but he merely ghosted its outline, head tilted as he watched his own hand move.

For a few moments, he only did that, almost as if he was in a trance. The warmth of your own palm on his lower abdomen as your fingers brushed the elastic of his boxers made him react.

You pushed him back, towards your bedroom, pulling the door open and shoving him inside. He smiled, lifting his arms in mock surrender.

Damian sat down on your bed, relishing into the smell of everything you owned — the bedding smelled like a mix of fabric softener and your delicious new heady perfume.

You got the urge to kiss his entire face, hands on his shoulders as he slanted his head back for you to do it comfortably. He relished on the gesture too, so spontaneous and warming.

He placed his hands on the backs of your thighs, urging you to straddle him. Watching you second guess yourself, he drew you closer to encourage you.

Giving a last kiss to his nose, you complied. Damian snaked his arms around your waist, a pleased smile pressing against your chin before he kissed your mouth.

You bit his lip, tugging on it. He crashed his lips against yours again just to then do the same himself, intentionally bitting harder than you had.

A moan escaped you. Feeling his cock twitch under your navel, you rocked your hips to watch his reaction.

His arms tightened around you as he tutted against your core. “This is the reason why I never train with you,” he groaned.

“I thought it was because I almost broke Tim’s leg once.”

“Don’t mention anyone else right now.”

Right. You had forgotten he had been jealous earlier.

Damian rolled over, switching places with you. He kissed you before you could pout, cradling your face with one hand while he held himself up with the other.

You placed a hand on his upper back while the other rested on the side of his neck, kissing him back with the same amount of passion he was kissing you.

He had you breathless in a matter of seconds, and as he broke the kiss, you saw his nostrils flare in attempts to catch his breath quickly.

Trailing kisses down your neck, he dropped his hand to your breast. This time he kneaded it, humming against your skin when you reacted with a small sound. His thumb brushed your nipple, playing with it while he busied himself with leaving marks on your chest.

So much for being careful, huh. At least those were easier to hide.

“Do you want me to eat you out?” He asked bluntly.

“If you’re in the mood.”

He kneeled on the bed, hooking his thumbs in your panties to slide them down. You lifted your hips to help him out, laughing when he threw your underwear behind him with little care.

You opened your legs for him, finding a comfortable position as he stayed there, taking all of you in, completely naked and at his mercy.

He kissed your thighs first, teasingly nibbling on them. Every time he got closer to the center, to where now you needed him instead of only wanting him, he pulled away and went back to your thigh.

Slowly, he dragged his index finger up and down your folds. Damian rested his chin on your right thigh as he watched his finger collect and smear your wetness, proud of the fact that he was the one who had made you wet. No one else.

Your breath hitched in expectant excitement as you saw him finally bury his head between your thighs. His tongue followed the same path his finger had outlined, at the same rhythm.

“You taste even better than I imagined,” he praised, licking his bottom lip clean.

As he gradually increased his rhythm, licking long stripes along your folds, you got bolder and urged him to be firmer by pushing your hips upward.

He moaned against your pussy, playfully sucking your labia to let you know he got the message.

Bringing an arm up to pin your hips back down, he used his other hand to open your legs a little bit more and part your labia.

Damian pressed his tongue on your clit, moving it gently at first. He wanted to know exactly what you liked and how. It didn’t take him long to switch between using his lips and his tongue which earned him a loud moan.

His hand caressed your thigh, eventually sliding between the mattress and your body to grab your asscheek.

You whined his name, reaching down to hold the back of his head. It was clear to you that he was enjoying every sound he managed to make you blurt, and it felt really good, but you needed more.

Out of nowhere, he tugged on your hips to slide you down the bed. Kneeling on the floor, he sucked fervently on your clit.

You fisted the duvet, begging him to keep going. Damian complied happily, mouth latched on your clit as your pussy swallowed his moans and the four walls of your bedroom made yours bounce.

They were music to his ears and his entire body. He could feel the tingling all over him, excitement and pride flowing through his bloodstream.

Massaging your ass, he couldn’t help but chuckle upon feeling both your hands on his head now. He allowed you to push his face farther in, not once slowing down.

Your hips bucked up and instead of restraining you, he moved with you. If you moved up he did down and vice versa. You got louder and he marveled at how responsive you were to him.

He growled, gripping your ass with force as he sucked on your clit until his cheeks were hollow. He let go only to repeat the motion, letting his tongue wander when he needed a break.

You tugged on his hair, squealing. Your body tensed in his grasp, prompting him to continue with his ministrations. Feeling the tremor in your legs as you tried to settle back down on the bed, he started lapping tenderly.

You caressed his hair, panting with your eyes closed. Damian lifted his head, hands softly dancing over your thighs as he stood up.

Feeling him hover over you, you opened your eyes albeit with a little difficulty. His mouth and chin glistened with your slick, wanton eyes inspecting your semblance.

“Do you want me to suck you off?” you rasped before clearing your throat.

He caressed your sweaty cheek. “Later.”

“Bu—“

He shut you up with a kiss. “Later, please? I just want to be inside you.”

Nodding against him, you kissed him again. Tasting yourself off his tongue was addictive. You held him still for a moment, licking your slick off his gorgeous face.

Damian growled, deep and loud this time, hands already on your waist. “Should I wear a condom this time?”

“No. Unless you want to?”

He shook his head. He didn’t want a single thing to keep him from feeling you fully. Damian stood from the bed. “Get on all fours.”

You rolled on your side first to then do as he had told you, holding your breath as you waited for him to stand behind you.

He rested a hand on your hip. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” you gave him your consent.

Damian entered you slowly, little by little, less worried about hurting you and more about making you feel every inch of him as his cock filled you.

You breathed out through a whine. He gave you time to adjust to his size, leaning to kiss the scar on your back.

Wanting to stay like that forever, you waited more than you should have to. If he was aware, he decided to be patient — such thing only made you grow wetter.

“Go ahead,” you told him, hoping you didn’t sound too desperate.

Reaching over, he gripped your hands. “You feel amazing, beloved.” He kissed your shoulder, nibbling on your skin as he rocked his hips.

God, you didn’t know if his comment had been what flattered you or the pet name. Either way, hearing them was as amazing as the way he felt inside you, filling you like no one before him had.

His hands left yours. He opted for placing them firmly on your hips and thrust into you steadily, keeping you from moving too much.

Humming in pleasure, you held the edge of the bed in anticipation. He went faster exponentially, calculating every single one of his thrusts.

Having control over his thrusts and the movement of your hips was nice and all, but he needed you closer.

Slapping your thigh, he croaked out, “On your back.”

You missed his girth the second he parted from you so you could change positions, it made you feel empty.

Damian helped you get comfortable, holding your thighs open before you got the urge to rub them. He smirked when you glared at him, hand leaving one of your legs to hold his cock.

He penetrated you again, bottoming out immediately as he made himself comfortable on top of you.

“Fuck, Damian!”

His hips snapped forward involuntarily. Both of you moaned at the same time, he pushed against your g-spot and you throbbed around him.

His movements were rougher like this, wilder. It was as though he wanted to prove a point to himself, you didn’t know which and you didn’t care as long as he fucked you like he needed to be inside you in order to be complete.

“Say my name again,” he rasped the command.

And how could you deny him? You repeated his name as many times as your moans allowed you like a broken chant.

Damian’s pace got quicker every time he heard his name fall from your lips, a tad uneven as he allowed himself to get lost in the pleasure the mix of everything was bringing him — your walls gripping his cock, your hoarse moans and the angelic way honey dripped from your voice when you called for him.

You dragged your nails all over his back, moaning and whimpering in his ear. He was so loud in your own ear, saying things in Arabic that you couldn’t understand in such a fervent tone that you weren’t sure if you would come because he was fucking you into oblivion or because of his strained voice.

Hearing your name slip in his prayer-like monologue, you cried out upon feeling your stomach get tighter. You clung to his shoulders, letting him ram into you in unsteady thrusts that went from slow to hammering in seconds.

His tongue slipped, Damian started switching between languages. Grip on you tightening to the point of being bruising, he begged, “I need you to come first, please. I— shit.” He dropped his head into the crook of your neck as you wrapped your legs around his hips, clenching around him.

You threw your head back, arching up to meet his latest thrust as your orgasm flew through you. Distantly, you processed a few of the sounds you were making and some of the ones you were elating from him.

Strings of hot cum covered your walls. He growled on your skin, saying your name and something you couldn’t really understand.

You let him ride off his orgasm inside you, hearing the mess he was making as the wet sounds from your slick and his cum mingled. His mouth covered yours in a tired kiss, lazy and with a hint of the tenderness he had put to the side even though his intentions had been different.

Once the two of you had caught your breaths and he had made an even bigger mess, you pulled the bedding off the mattress and threw everything into the washing machine.

He was all over you as the two of you shared a shower, so close that scrubbing off took you way longer than it should have.

In all honesty, you didn’t mind. You were too happy to complain about his annoying little antics that you couldn’t wait to get used to.

”Should we suit up?” You asked him, watching the water drip down his chest like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“They can manage without us for a night.”

“You want to skip patrol?”

Drying his arms, he copied your tone, “You don’t want to spend more time alone with me?”

“Of course I do,” you replied immediately. “But you love patrol.”

He stood still, somewhat stiff in front of you. “Not enough, it seems.”

You dropped the topic at that and went on with drying your body.

He only put his underwear back on while you slipped a pair of panties and a t-shirt, awkwardly trying to find something to change the topic.

“Do you want some ice cream? I have a tub in the freezer.”

“Sounds good.”

A nice moment you shared, silently eating ice cream. He sat close to you the entire time, brushing your side.

It felt natural, as though you were supposed to be doing that and not anything else. Patrol could wait, and his family, and your friends, and the entire world.

The world stopped so you two could enjoy the moment, the day. Or perhaps it didn’t and you just couldn’t bring yourself to give this up for it — but he couldn’t either and that meant everything to you.

Damian never skipped patrol, he hadn’t done it in the worst moments of his life and you never expected to see the day in which he would find something more worthwhile.

You found a clean sheet for the bed in the laundry room which saved you from having to squeeze yourself with Damian on the couch. Maybe it was time to get a bigger one.

He rested his head on your stomach, cheek against your belly as he looked up at you. You could tell he wanted to say something, his brow was ever so slightly furrowed, and his eyes seemed clouded by a thought. He looked pretty nonetheless.

He traced his fingers over your thigh, drawing little doodles. You could make some up by feel — a flower, a bat, his name, a few stars, his name again, an R inside a circle, a heart, his name for the third time.

“I think I would’ve broken my oath to my father if you had had someone over.”

You slid your hand off his hair to caress his cheek, too worried to hide your frown. Damian took his promises and oaths seriously, more seriously than anything else. You had seen his family use said thing against him.

“It wouldn’t have been worth it,” you tried to reason with him. “It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“Would you have gotten mad at me?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “It would’ve depended on a lot of things. Without context, obviously, but...” Realizing you were about to make up excuses for something that hadn’t even happened, you decided to ask, “Why are you still thinking about that?”

“I don’t want you to forget about me. Ever.”

“Are you planning to say goodbye or something of sorts?”

“No!” He glared at you for even considering such a thing to be a possibility after everything the two of you had talked about, after everything you had made him feel. ”But I...” Damian scoffed. “I can’t explain to you how horrible it felt. My eyesight clouded the moment Stephanie said it was time for you to start seeing someone.”

“Jealousy does that to us.” You tried to sound wise by saying it, an attempt you found quite pointless as you replayed it in your head.

Silently, he lifted his head off your stomach in order to lay down next to you. Shifting so he would be comfortable, you held your head up with your hand to properly gaze at him.

Damian mirrored your position. He told you, in a hushed tone like it was his deepest secret, “I felt like you were replacing me.”

Stephanie only had said that because it was the truth. Your relationships always fizzled out after the first two months so you had stopped trying. Then there was the fact that Damian himself had sabotaged who knows how many of them...

From her perspective, it made sense.

“Damian...” you trailed off, in vain. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Tell me you won’t.”

“I won’t replace you as long as you don’t replace me.”

You thought he would find the comment insulting even though it was perfectly sound. But for God knows which time that day, Damian surprised you by scoffing with nonchalance.

Dismissing your worry, he slid closer to you, resting his forehead against your flexed arm. “I couldn’t possibly be happy without your perfume all over me.”

Grabbing him by the hair, you forced him to lift his head. His eyes found yours in a second, curious. You dropped your hand to his neck, sliding it up to his cheek.

Giving him the sweetest kiss you had ever given, tracing the side of his gorgeous face tenderly, you hoped you were doing a good job expressing what you wanted to communicate.

You were. He gave you in return the brightest smile you had seen in your entire existence. It was all for you, something you had caused, something you wanted to see for the rest of your life.

Damian pulled you onto his chest, laying on his back. He mindlessly ran his fingers over your side and up and down your back while you listened to his steady heartbeat.

You couldn’t possibly feel complete without him ever again.