#style natural hair for graduation

[b0ydyke]

everyone should stop saying the mullet is out in 2024 because i personally love it and it seems i have grown quite fond of it

[servicpop]

✶ ﹑ㅤtutoring seshㅤ﹏

NOW STARRING : adrien x bottom m!reader

「ㅤNSFWㅤ」ㅤtutor sesh w/ your deliquent situationship but he can't focus on the studying, only you!

��� warnings — parents are home , manhandling(?) , obsessive 'n a little pervy adrien , slight hair pulling , bodyworship(?) , Adrien is a little silly in this fic

notes ,, this was supposed to be short but I got carried away ^^;

Adrien had called you over to his house for a "tutoring session." For past few weeks, Adrien has been near-failing practically every single class except for gym class and whatnot. Realising he needed to improve his grades or he'll never graduate with you, he called you on one faithful evening to come over and help him study.

Obviously you complied; it was nice to see Adrien showing some sort of motivation to improve, so you changed into some casual clothes and began to walk to his house. You had prepared your laptop, pencil case, and textbooks, all ready to put in a few hours of tutoring. When you arrived at his front door, you grazed the back of your knuckles against the wood and knocked once or twice, expecting Adrien to show up with a proud smirk like he always did.

But it wasn't Adrien. When the door swung open, you saw his mother. You've only seen her once or twice but never up-close like this. The words caught in your throat as you clutched the straps of your bags, trying to find the words that never came. As if heaven answered your prayers, you saw Adrien jogging down the stairs and to the door, leaning on the door frame with his arm held above his head.

"You came," He grinned, taking the bag from your shoulders as he pulled you inside by your wrist. He helped you take off your shoes cinderella style and neatly placed them beside the doorway. He was awfully caring right now. Your hands felt crammy as you took a glance at Adrien's mother watching the two of you interact, a small blush dusted your ears while you quickly turned away. It must've looked like you were dating with the way she crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

"Well, mom, we'll be in my room if you'd excuse us," Adrien flashed a toothy smile at his mother before snaking an arm around your waist and pulling you to his side. As he walked you up the stairs, Adrien found an opportunity to tease you, "You nervous meeting my mom?" He asked, squeezing your sides playfully. You shoot him an unamused gaze and he lets out a hearty chuckle from that. Adrien's hand wrapped around his gold doorknob, twisting it before he halted for a second. "Uh, wait here for a second, I gotta clean up my room," he didn't even wait for a response before slipping into his bedroom and closing the door behind him.

"Shit," Adrien muttered under his breath as he quickly shoved the polaroids and photos of you from his desk and into his drawer. He couldn't let you see how god damn obsessed he was about you. He couldn't let you see the photos of yourself stained with a white sheen, no, he wouldn't want to scare you off.

Adrien finally emerged from his room, pushing the door wide open for you to come in with a smile. You didn't question it. As you walked in, you were instantly hit with the scent of his cologne and natural musk. It wasn't a strong enough scent to burn your nose but it would still take you awhile to get used to it. Besides the scent, Adrien's bedroom was relatively clean for a guy who was titled 'the school deliquent.' He had a few sports posters plastered on the walls and his shelf had a few trophies from his childhood. You spotted the baseball bat leaned up against the wall alongside with the volleyball and basketball resting next to eachother. Adrien was sure athletic.

As you two sat down beside your desk, you pulled out all the equipment needed for studying and turned to Adrien, "What do you wanna study?" You asked him and got a small shrug in response. Well, why not start with biology since you conveniently happen to have a textbook that covered the subject.

Around 30 minutes pasted and you were diligently teaching him about human anatomy, glancing over to see him nodding once or twice. You thought it was going well but Adrien on the other hand... He was too focused on the way your hands glided against the pages, tapping the pen against the paper rhythmically, and how your eyes fluttered to him ever so often. Shit, he was horny as hell right now. Just the thought of those hands intertwining with his as he fucks the intelligence out of you is enough to get his blood pumping to the wrong places.

"Adrien? Are you listening?" Your voice snaps him out of his twisted fantasies and he leaned in closer to you, his voice dropping down to a whisper, "You know, I'm a hands-on, visual learner..." That shit-eating grin spread across his face as Adrien pat his lap enticingly, trying to draw your attention to the print in his sweatpants. But knowing you, you wouldn't give in so easily — you were called here to tutor him, not anything else.

"Just answer one more question and I'll—" Before you could even finish your sentence, Adrien's arms wrapped around your waist and he hoisted you up from the chair, practically slinging you over his shoulder. His forearms flexed around you, making sure you didn't fall before placing you on his bed, the mattress dipped from the sudden weight. "Try to be quiet 'kay? My parents are home," He nipped at the shell of your ear before hastily undoing your belt and sliding your pants off. Did he care that his parents could come in at any moment? No, but it was much more exciting to see you try and keep quiet.

"Can we kiss?" Adrien's voice was almost whiny, his eyelashes batted at you innocently — even though he was far from innocent. Nonetheless, you didn't respond, you've set certain boundaries that prevented you and him from getting attached (even though you may or may not have broken it a couple of times). "No," it was a simple, sharp answer that Adrien grumbled at. He understood where you were coming from, he was a bad influence and you were this goody-two-shoes. But he couldn't deny the part of him that wanted something more than just meaningless flings. He huffed, murmuring a small, "How can I study the muscles of a tongue then?"

Scooping you up back into his arms, Adrien ignored your small protests and shifted your position so that your stomach would lay flat against his bed. His hands met the back of yours, pinning you down as he slotted each of his fingers in the spaces between yours. "What happened to studying, Adrien?" Your scolds were muffled by Adrien's pillow and seemed to fall short of his ears. As he held you down, he grinded his hips against your ass, groaning softly from the pure excitement he felt. It had been a few months since he was about to get his hands on you, your pictures just wasn't as good as the real thing.

"Calvin klein hm?" Adrien chuckled softly, trailing his hands from the back of your palm, to your shoulders, down your spine, and to the waistband of your boxers, "Next time don't wear anything." His fingers hooked the elastic before pulling it down and off your legs. You couldn't see what he was doing from your position, and every touch made your skin jump, he was so unpredictable. His fingers traced the curve of your ass before spreading them apart to see your hole. "This is the anus right?" He asked, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

"—Yes," you hesitated to answer him, he was obviously playing games with you, but there was no harm in humoring him. You heard the faint rustling of clothes before you felt something prod at your entrance. You sucked in through your teeth, was he seriously going to do this with no lube? "Sorry, don't got any on me right now." It was like he read your mind and instead dipped his head down to lick a stripe over your hole. It tickled, and your body naturally jerked away from it before he grabbed your hips and held them down one more. Weirdo.

He shuffled behind you, placing two knees on either side of your legs and his fingers angled your hips a little bit up. The slight burn of Adrien pushing into you made your fingers curl around his pillow, gripping it like your life depended on it. He slowly pushed in, filling you up until his hips met your ass. Even if your skin was flushed against his, Adrien pushed impossibly deeper inside of you until he could feel his tip press against your prostate. His hands tightened around your waist, stopping you from squirming and forcing you to take it.

"Is this your prostate?" He asked, his voice slightly trembled from the pleasure that coursed his veins, he was trying so hard to control himself. This time you ignore him, you know well that he knew. From the lack of a response, Adrien let out a breathy laugh before he finally decided to move, pulling out almost all the way before slamming into you. Your eyes flew open and your knuckles grew pale from how hard you were holding onto his pillow, your whines were muffled quite well, thankfully.

Adrien groaned ruggedly as he pounded you into his bed, the headboard knocked on his wall with every thrust. "You're being so quiet," He chuckled, reaching a hand out to ruffle your hair affectionate before moving to grab your hand. You couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic enough with the way he kept slamming into you like it was a punishment. Everytime he pulled out, he cooed at the way your hole would suck him back in like it missed him. "Fuck, I just can't with you," He let out a shaky breath as he rolled his hips against you, pushing further and further, trying to reach places he couldn't before.

He was reaching so deep that tears began to blur your vision, everything felt so overwhelming but numb at the same time. He leaned down to press kisses on your knuckles as he held your hand tightly under his own. His hips were relentless, slapping against yours, you were sure he'd leave your bruised and sore tomorrow. It was like he completely forgot they weren't alone in his house. In fact, Adrien's fingers moved from your hand to your hair, threading them through each strand and grabbing a handful, tugging it gently so your head would lift from the pillow.

"Kiss?" He asked once more, his lips already ghosting over yours. At this point you didn't care, all you could feel was how Adrien was throbbing inside you and how your dick rubbed against his white sheets with every thrust. "Fine," you exhale and he took the opportunity almost immediately, capturing your mouth in a heated kiss as he pulled your hair back for more access. His tongue pushed past your lips, exploring your mouth while simultaneously keeping your moans contained.

The dim lighting, the way your eyes fluttered and threatened to roll back, his dick pulsing inside you, it was all too much for his perverted brain. "Gonna cum," he muttered against your lips, biting on your bottom lip. He his hands return to your hips and his head falls over your shoulder. You could feel your own orgasm building up as your body started to squirm, you cock growing sensitive from the constant rubbing against Adrien's sheets. Adrien paused his thrusting just to pull out completely and shove himself back in, causing a loud whine rip from your throat and you body jolting.

Your cum splattered across the bed as Adrien smiled against your shoulder, keeping you from squirming as he came inside you, filling you with his semen. With a few more wet thrusts, Adrien finally stilled, watching as his own cum bubbled around his dick as he nestled deep inside you. "We should do this again, hm? Next time we can study our chemistry," his arms snaked up your body to wrap them around your shoulders, capturing you in a bear hug as he looked up at you with a goofy smile.

"What's with you and being so corny?" You groan, pushing his face away from you.

a/n: i luv adrien sosososo much ... wish he real ,, also not sure if he was a bit ooc here ,, a bit sillier than usual but I hope you guys like it ♡

[fratttymatty]

Southern Shift

(All characters are 18+)

Maddox had never been much of a believer in magic. Sure, he’d seen the viral videos, heard the wild stories, but he figured they were all some sort of elaborate hoaxes or clever editing tricks. His life had always been a straightforward one: an 18-year-old guy from a fairly progressive city on the coast. He was used to being who he was—a proud gay man, confident and comfortable in his own skin. He didn’t fit in with every crowd, but that was fine by him. He had his friends, his passions, and a future in design and art lined up after graduation.

But when a strange e-mail showed up one Wednesday evening, everything Maddox knew about his life was thrown into chaos.

It came from a source called TrueVision Enterprises, a company he’d never heard of, with a subject line that read: "Your Destiny Awaits — Experience a New Life." Curiosity got the best of him. What could possibly go wrong?

It was a poorly-written message, vague but cryptic. “Ever wonder what it’s like to be someone else? To experience a life you’ve only imagined? Click here to find out.”

A grin spread across his face. Who wouldn’t be intrigued? Maybe it was a prank. Maybe it was a scam. But it was better than staring at the same four walls all night. So, against better judgment, he clicked the link.

The screen went black for a moment, then flashed with a blinding light.

When Maddox opened his eyes, everything had changed.

It wasn’t just the environment—though the suburban neighborhood around him looked radically different from his usual cityscape. No, it was something far deeper, more visceral. He felt it in his bones, in his muscles, in the very way he was standing.

Looking down, he saw the first signs. His body had undergone a remarkable transformation. Gone was his lean but soft physique, the figure of a 5'11" city guy with a slight build. In its place was something else entirely: a lean, toned build with defined muscles in his arms, chest, and legs. His body felt stronger, like he could throw a punch without thinking about it, or lift heavy things without breaking a sweat. But what really caught his attention was his height.

He blinked, staring down at himself. He was taller. Not just a little taller, but by a significant amount. Maddox used to be 5'11", but now, standing at 6'3", he had a commanding presence. His legs stretched out longer than he remembered, and the new height gave him an imposing posture. He’d never been the tallest in his group, and now he towered over everyone, even the people around him who seemed much bigger and broader than he remembered.

His new height felt natural, like it had always been this way. But it also made him feel powerful, larger-than-life in a way that was completely unfamiliar.

He glanced at the house around him. It was large, a two-story place with wide windows, a white picket fence, and an immaculately-kept lawn. The interior was similarly pristine, and the smell of fresh wood and leather filled the air. This wasn't his apartment. This wasn’t anywhere he recognized. But something about the space felt... familiar, as though it was his home now.

He staggered, momentarily disoriented, and made his way to a nearby mirror.

What he saw almost made him fall over.

A stranger stared back at him. His face was familiar, but only in the way you recognize a reflection in a window before you really focus on it. His hair—blonde, curly, and wild—was cut into a mullet that reached just past the top of his neck, the ends flaring out like a halo of unruly curls. He didn’t remember ever styling his hair that way, yet the new version of himself seemed to suit it effortlessly. The loose curls framed his jawline, drawing attention to the newly defined muscles there.

His eyes, once a sharp hazel, had turned a lighter shade of blue. His expression was different too—stoic, even smug, like someone who knew exactly who he was and had no time for nonsense.

Then he looked down at himself, taking in his outfit. A plaid, button-up shirt—tight across his chest but still comfortable—clung to his muscular frame. He wore a worn leather belt with a large, shining buckle, a pair of jeans that fit just right and boots that seemed made for walking through dirt. And of course, a tan, weathered cowboy hat sat perched on top of his head.

Everything about his appearance screamed “redneck,” yet it was as if he'd always been this way. As if this transformation was simply an outward reflection of who he was now.

He stared at his reflection, utterly speechless, before hearing a voice from behind him.

"Adam, honey, come on down here! Dinner’s ready!"

He froze. Adam? That wasn’t his name. His name was Maddox.

But when he tried to say it—when he opened his mouth to speak—it wasn’t "Maddox" that came out.

"Yessir, mom," the new voice said, gruff and confident, with a drawl he didn't recognize. It was his voice, but it felt... wrong.

Before he could think further, his feet carried him toward the stairs. Every movement felt more natural, more instinctual. He didn’t have to think about walking anymore; his body just moved.

The moment he stepped into the kitchen, he was greeted by two older figures: a tall man with a thick beard and a sun-worn face, and a woman with perfectly-coiffed blonde hair and a warm, motherly smile.

"Adam, you hungry, baby?" The woman—his new "mother"—asked in a thick Southern accent, as she placed a plate of fried chicken and mashed potatoes on the table.

"Yeah, looks good, mom." His voice was smooth, authoritative, and familiar. It was like he had always talked this way.

The man, his new father, patted him on the back. "Atta boy. Gotta keep up your strength if you’re gonna help me with the truck this weekend."

Adam nodded, suddenly feeling an unfamiliar rush of excitement at the thought of working on a truck. "Sounds good, pops."

His father gave him a knowing look. "Glad to hear it. Gotta be ready to defend this house. Keep it in shape." There was a pause, and then a sly smirk crossed his face. "Though, I gotta say, I’m more worried about that little gay friend of yours. What’s his name again? Cody, right?"

Adam’s heart skipped. Cody was his best friend. But the way his father said it—the sneer in his voice—felt wrong. His thoughts tried to resist, but the tug of new instincts, of new feelings, pushed him to respond in a way he would have never before.

"Yeah, Cody’s a nice guy," Adam said, his voice dripping with casual disdain, "but man, he’s just… different, y’know? He’s always talking about stuff I don’t care about, like his art or whatever. He’s not really my kind of guy. Dude’s all wrapped up in his feelings and thinks he’s some kind of big thinker. He’s just not built for the real world."

Adam laughed and shrugged, the words flowing out like they were second nature. It felt good, somehow, to say it out loud. The Maddox part of him—the part that would’ve fiercely defended Cody, that would’ve fought anyone who insulted him—seemed like a distant memory.

His father chuckled, clearly approving. "Well, I’m glad to hear you’re making better choices, son. You don't need someone like that holding you back."

"Exactly," Adam said with a grin. "I’ve got enough on my plate, worrying about football, work, and, you know, my future. Guys like Cody? They just complicate things."

The following day, Adam found himself at a school that seemed to be from another world. The high school was old, with large wooden bleachers in the gym and the faint smell of tobacco in the air. Kids in cowboy boots and trucker hats roamed the halls, and there was an air of casual arrogance in the way they all carried themselves.

When he walked into the classroom, heads turned. He wasn’t used to this kind of attention, but now, standing at his new, imposing height of 6'3", Adam felt like he belonged. He loomed over the students around him, towering above them with a sense of superiority that felt right, even though it was still so new. His height made him feel like the guy everyone respected—or, if they didn’t, they at least stayed out of his way.

"Hey, Adam," a guy called from the back of the room. He had a thick jaw and a cocky grin. "How’s it going, man?"

"Good, bro," Adam replied, easily slipping into the role of the guy everyone wanted to hang out with. The guy who didn’t care about anything except his truck, his friends, and his future. A life of simple pleasures, uncomplicated by anything like "progressive politics" or "diversity."

But the most striking change came when he spotted her in the hallway. Emily.

She was the cheerleading captain. Blonde, athletic, and with a smile that lit up the entire school. Adam hadn’t expected to feel such a strong pull toward her, but as he watched her walking toward him, he felt his chest puff out with pride, the feeling of possession he didn’t quite understand.

"Hey, Adam," Emily called, giving him a wink. She wore her cheer uniform—tight, short, and red—and looked every bit the picture of what his new life was supposed to be. "You ready for the game on Friday? I’ve got your back, big guy."

"Always," Adam said, his voice dropping an octave. He felt confident, even cocky, as he walked toward her, putting an arm around her waist as they headed to class together. She was his girlfriend, after all, and that was just the way things were now. The idea of a different reality, a different version of himself, felt so distant.

By the time school ended, Adam was fully in his new life. Football practice had been intense, but Adam had breezed through it. As a starting wide receiver, he was the star of the team. He felt invincible on the field, his new body moving with strength and agility. The other players had all been high-fiving him, slapping his back, calling him "the beast."

And as for Emily? She was always by his side, chatting him up with that sweet, familiar smile. They talked about the weekend plans—probably a party at Brad's, a bonfire down by the lake—and Adam felt perfectly at home.

When the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, Adam had only one thought: This is my life now. He was Adam, the 6'3", football-playing redneck with a cheerleader girlfriend and a world of opportunities at his feet.

The old Maddox, the artist from the city, was gone.

And Adam? Adam was everything he’d ever needed to be.

[justlemmeadoreyou]

1. prepping (restaurant owner!harry x chef!y/n)

summary: you landed your dream job as a line cook at harry styles' prestigious haus kitchen restaurant in chicago. the tough chef job demands focus, but it's really hard when your boss looks like harry styles.

words: 4.3k

warnings: nothing major in this one

Your palms were sweating as you gripped the steering wheel, driving through downtown Chicago towards your new job. You kept glancing down at the address on the printed directions, double checking that you were heading the right way. The last thing you wanted was to be late on your first day.

Ever since getting your culinary degree, you had applied to what felt like hundreds of restaurant jobs, desperate to get your foot in the door of a real professional kitchen. But very few places wanted to hire someone so fresh out of school with no actual experience. 

Finally, after months of dead ends, you had landed a line cook position at Haus Kitchen - one of the hottest farm-to-table restaurants in the city. You could scarcely believe your luck when you got the call saying you were hired.

Haus was the brainchild of Harry Styles, international superstar singer turned chef. After his chart-topping solo music career, Harry had traded in artist life to pursue his lifelong passion for cooking. Using his accumulated wealth, he opened up Haus five years ago to rave reviews, quickly earning a well deserved Michelin star.

You vividly remembered watching Harry's transition from a pop idol to dashing culinary entrepreneur play out in the media. As a teenage girl, you had been obsessed with him during his One Direction days.

Your bedroom walls were plastered with Harry's posters and you had relentlessly played their songs, sighing over his tousled hair and pouty lips. Then as you got older and Harry went solo, your boyband crush evolved into more of an intense celebrity infatuation as he cultivated a cool, rebellious image.

There were countless gossipy blind items about his infamous hellraising, flings with models and socialites, and run-ins with the law. You had followed all the scandalous Harry headlines with rapt attention - from getting papped stumbling out of nightclubs with an endless parade of beautiful women to getting arrested for drug possession outside Soho clubs. 

But finally in his late 20s, seemingly bored of rockstar debauchery, Harry had pivoted to reset his image as a knowledgeable culinary entrepreneur. You admired how he transformed from tabloid bad boy into a refined, successful businessman and chef.

He began studying haute cuisine under the tutelage of famous European chefs, traveling abroad to hone his skills further. While continuing to record new musical projects independently, Harry started establishing himself in the culinary world through guest stints on TV cooking shows and food/wine events.

With his brooding good looks, charming personality, and serious culinary chops, the world fell for Harry's new sophisticated image. Before long, he was the subject of breathless puff pieces in food magazines as "the sexiest Renaissance man in the kitchen." It seemed natural when Harry soon opened up his passion project Haus to capitalize on his popularity and love of food.

Now nearing your mid-20s, your teenage fannish obsession had cooled into more of an admiring celebrity crush. You had stayed aware of Harry's journey, but your priorities were focused on graduating culinary school at the top of your class and finding your own big break in the Chicago restaurant scene.

So when you landed a job at Harry's iconic Haus, it almost didn't feel real. Not only would you be working at one of the city's most exclusive spots, but under the same roof as a chef you had admired for ages.

Not that you expected to have any real personal contact with Harry himself, you reminded yourself as you merged onto the exit for downtown. He was an internationally famous mega-celebrity who had to have hundreds of staffers, not to mention being handsomely paid to just be the smiling face of the business while professional kitchen vets like Paul Thomason handled the day-to-day operations.

Still, you had to admit to yourself that a tiny part of you tingled at the mere idea of being in the same building as Harry Styles...hopefully catching a glimpse of that handsome, endlessly charming man in the flesh...

You shook your head dismissively and double checked the directions again, annoyed at getting so easily distracted. This was your big break, your first serious job in the industry. You needed to bring your A-game and focus, not dwell on silly celebrity daydreams.

It was your fantasies of becoming a respected chef that needed to take priority.

You pulled into the parking lot for the restaurant, double checking that you had the address right. The sleek, modern building had a neon "Haus Kitchen" sign glowing over opulent double-door entrances flanked by velvet ropes and cheerful outdoor seating areas.

Taking a steadying breath, you cut the engine and sat for a moment, giving yourself a pep talk. This was it. No more messing around doing coursework or labs - this was the major leagues with all the intensity of a real professional kitchen. You had to bring it all day, every day.

As you climbed out of your beat-up Honda, you smoothed down your spotless new chef's whites, making sure everything looked pressed and presentable. With your knife kit tucked under your arm, you walked towards the entrance with purpose, chin held high.

From the moment you stepped through the doors, it was like being transported into another world. The smell of simmering sauces, roasting meats, and freshly baked bread envaded your senses. Even hours before opening, the energy and hustle for dinner prep was palpable.

Off to the left was the main dining room you had studied photos of online - effortlessly cool with vaulted exposed wooden beam ceilings, brick accents, and casually modern decor. Pendant lighting glowed cozily over tables draped in white linens and rustic chandeliers hung over plush tufted leather banquettes. A lively bar area centered the space, stocked with top-shelf liquors and backed by a dazzling display of custom glassware.

In the distance ahead, you could hear the clamoring of the kitchen in full swing. Your stomach did a nervous flip - this was it. Taking another fortifying breath, you headed through the archway.

You emerged into a large, sleek open kitchen layout, all stainless steel and butcher block islands. Uniformed cooks were buzzing at their stations like a well-oiled machine under the barked commands of an older, stocky man you immediately recognized as Head Chef Paul Thomason.

Despite his gruff reputation, watching Thomason in action was nothing short of mesmerizing. He moved between stations with the easy grace of a conductor, sampling sauces, tweaking seasonings, and directing the workflow with gruff orders. There was no wasted movement or micro-expression as he continually tasted and perfected dishes, alternating between thoughtful contemplation and decisive action.

Though you had only seen Thomason in pictures and television appearances, his fierce focus and mastery were unmistakable. This was what true professional kitchen expertise looked like in the flesh.

Feeling like a mouse that had wandered into the lair of a lion, you hovered near the entrance, uncertain of what to do next. The kitchen team flowed around you in a choreographed dance, deftly ignoring your presence as they prepped and plated flawlessly.

After a few minutes of anxious loitering, the intimidating Thomason seemed to finally notice you. His grizzled features contorted as he scowled, looking you up and down through eyes squinted with decades of kitchen smoke exposure.

"You must be the new kid," he said gruffly, crossing his bulky tattooed arms over his broad chest. Even without raising his voice, Thomason had a rumbling bass that easily carried over the kitchen's clanging din. "Christ, you're shorter than I expected. Think you've got what it takes to keep up around here?"

You nervously clutched your knife kit closer while trying to not look as flustered as you felt. "Y-yes, chef!" 

You swallowed hard, hyper aware of everyone around you now watching the interaction. "I, uh...I came ready to work as hard as it takes. Whatever you need from me."

Thomason grunted, squinting at you for another long moment in consideration. Then he jerked his head towards the back. "Get changed out quick and meet me back here in 5. I'll get you started on prep and we'll see what you're made of. Don't keep me waiting."

"Yes, chef!" you responded immediately, wincing at how high your voice had gone up an octave.

Without another word, Thomason turned and strode back into the controlled chaos of the line, immediately redirecting his attention to sauces and garnishes. Letting out a shaky breath, you scurried towards the changing rooms, heart jackhammering.

Well, you were officially in the thick of things now...

You hustled back out to the kitchen, trying not to look frazzled from your rushed change. A young Hispanic line cook spotted you and waved you over to his station.

"You the newbie?" he asked, not unkindly. When you nodded, he jerked his head towards the walk-in refrigerator. "Thomason wants you to start by breaking down some of the produce delivery for prep."

"Got it, thanks," you replied, eager to prove yourself. The line cook gestured you through the door into the immense chilled walk-in.

You blinked as your eyes adjusted to the cold, taking in the sights and smells of the impressive stockpile. Shelves upon shelves were stocked with an array of fresh seasonal produce - crates bursting with leafy greens, bushels of root vegetables, flats of vibrantly colored tomatoes, exotic fruits, and mushroom varieties you had only read about.  

Your culinary school had humble basics for ingredients, nothing like the bounty of locally-sourced, meticulously selected provisions that Haus Kitchen demanded. You felt a thrill at getting to work with such an extraordinary pantry.

Respirating clouds puffed from your mouth as you scanned the inventory tagging system. You had been taught similar protocols in your food safety courses, but there was something exhilarating about putting that knowledge into practice in a real professional environment.

Grabbing a stack of plastic totes, you made a game plan for which items to start prepping first based on perishability levels and what would be needed for that evening's specials. Though you started out slow at first, you steadily built up a cadence of meticulously cleaning, trimming, and sorting into appropriate storage containers.  

By the time Thomason stuck his head in to check on you an hour later, you had developed an efficient system and made solid progress through a mountain of deliveries.

The head chef grunted in approval as he inspected your neat stacks of prepped produce, crossing his arms as he looked you up and down with a critical eye.

"Not bad, kid," he rumbled. "Clearly know which end of a knife to use, at least. C'mon back out, got some protein fabrication for you to tackle next."

You diligently followed Thomason back out to the main kitchen, wiping some sweat from your brow with your sleeve. Despite the industrial cooling system, the heat blazing from the ovens and range tops made the open kitchen feel like a furnace.

As Thomason led you to a stainless steel butcher's block island, you couldn't help but gawk at the array of gleaming knives hanging from magnetic strips overhead. The blades were works of art - sleek, razor sharp, and clearly extremely expensive.

Gesturing you over, Thomason grabbed a boning knife and twirled it deftly before handing it to you. "Let's see how you handle breaking this down."

He gave the block a solid smack with his meaty palm, indicating for you to get started on the glistening slab of beef tenderloin before you. Taking a steadying breath, you gripped the bone-handled knife firmly and leaned over the cutting board.

"Yes chef," you murmured before carefully piercing the thick cut of meat, angling the blade with practiced precision from all your training.

Around you, the kitchen bustled with the usual rattling pans, sizzling ranges, and Thomason's occasional barked orders. But as you fell into the rhythm of deftly separating fat and sinew, the noises began to fade from your awareness.  

You were completely focused on your knife work, confidently sawing through the tender flesh as you reduced the tenderloin down to portions and trimmings for other stations to further break down. It was meditative, almost hypnotic, the way you instinctively slid the blade along rendered paths of butchery.

After your initial intimidation of the intense Haus environment, you started to find your groove and calm amidst the choreographed insanity surrounding you. You were so laser-focused on the satisfaction of properly executing each slicing technique that the rest of the kitchen chaos became mere white noise.

You had no idea how long you stayed absorbed in the butchery, but eventually you became aware of a presence at your elbow. Glancing up, you nearly jumped to see Harry Styles watching you work with an unreadable expression, hands shoved into the pockets of his slim-fitting slacks.

His dress shirt was rolled up to his elbows and the fitted cotton fabric clung to his toned arms and chest, a few chest hairs peeking out of his slightly undone top button. A single necklace rested in the divot between his sculpted collarbones, drawing your eye to the alluring hollow of his throat as he swallowed hard.

You froze mid-slice, mesmerized by watching the tendons in Harry's wrist and forearm flex as his hands flexed restlessly in his trouser pockets. After a beat, his pillowy lips curved into an easy smile, crinkling the delicate crow's feet at the corners of his kaleidoscope green eyes.

"Afternoon," Harry said in that lazy, husky drawl that used to make millions of fans swoon. He flicked his eyes down to your handiwork before bringing them back up to your face. "Looking good there, newbie."

You blinked, not trusting your ears for a moment before realizing with a jolt that Harry was very much real and quite close. Like, unnecessarily close for your over-stimulated brain to handle.

"Uh...I-I, um...th-thank you?" you croaked out, wanting to cringe at how lame you sounded. Get it together, this wasn't the time to geek out–you instructed yourself.

But Harry didn't seem to notice your fumbling, simply giving you a dimpled half-smile before reaching around you to snag a stray piece of trimming from the butcher's block. He inspected it contemplatively before popping it into his mouth, those plump lips wrapping obscenely around the bite as he chewed and ruminated with relish.

"Perfection," he declared after swallowing, shooting you another crooked grin like you were co-conspirators sharing an inside joke. With a subtle wink, Harry pivoted on his boot heel and sauntered off, whistling a jaunty tune.

As he retreated, you risked a glance down at his form-fitting trousers shamelessly admiring the way the fine fabric cupped the ample curves of his pert backside. Even at his age, Harry Styles had the muscle-toned body of a man decades younger - long, lean muscles taut under golden tanned skin.

You blinked hard and shook your head, annoyed at catching yourself ogling your new boss like a drooling fangirl. Pull it together! This was totally inappropriate and unprofessional. You had zero business daydreaming about someone who gave you your paycheck, no matter how obscenely famous and heartthrob-ishly handsome they were.

Firmly re-focusing on your knife work, you determinedly put Harry from your mind and tried to re-immerse yourself in the rhythm and refuge of the butchery. But the memory of his distractingly lush mouth so close kept replaying over and over, preventing you from recapturing your previous sense of meditative flow. 

Dammit, you needed to get a grip! This kind of inappropriate crush on your employer was exactly the kind of silly, immature behavior that would make you look like a unprofessional joke in a serious kitchen environment. Blowing an opportunity like this was not an option.

Later, as you untied your apron strings and joined the team in breaking down the last stations for cleaning at closing, Thomason sidled up alongside you. You braced yourself for more of his typical gruff rebukes or criticisms.

Instead, the veteran chef simply gave you a long, considered look before saying gruffly, "You did good work today, kid. I can already tell you got the stuff to handle it around here if you keep your head down."

You blinked up at him in surprise before managing a small smile. "Thank you, chef. I really appreciate that."

Thomason grunted noncommittally before wandering off, likely to oversee something else. As you tidied your workstation, you couldn't help feeling a small glow of pride. Despite the craziness of your first day, you had seemingly passed this initial trial with flying colors.

As you left through the back entrance into the quiet night air, you took a deep breath and allowed yourself a satisfied smile. Maybe, just maybe, you really did have what it took to succeed in this highly competitive environment after all. For tonight at least, you had handled the punishing pace and standards. Tomorrow was another day to prove yourself all over again.

***

Your day started before sunrise the next morning, brewing a strong coffee and reviewing the notes you had taken the previous evening about which menu items needed prepping. By the time you arrived at Haus, reinvigorated by the crisp morning air, the kitchen was already a hive of activity in preparation for lunch service. 

The intense scrutiny under which you worked only amplified with the daylight. Every slice, every sauté was carried out under the watchful eyes of Chef Thomason and his steely gaze. More than once, you felt his presence looming over your shoulder, inspecting your work with the same critical eye as a diamond cutter examining a flawless gem.

"This slice is uneven," he barked, startling you. You flinched, resisting the urge to make excuses as he continued, "The portions all need to be identical for plating. Paying attention to details like that is the difference between a sloppy meal and a stellar one. Don't let it happen again."

"Yes, chef," you replied tightly, making a minor adjustment to your knife work. Though his words stung, you had to admit Thomason was completely right. In a restaurant of this caliber, any minor imperfection could spell disaster.  

You redoubled your efforts, pouring all of your concentration into each preparation, each plate. By the time the end of your shift rolled around, you were drenched in sweat, your feet screaming from being on them for 12 hours straight. But you had successfully made it through day two without any major mishaps.

As the whirlwind of dinner service finally calmed to a stopping point, you stood in the kitchen obediently waiting for Thomason's inspection and inevitable critique. But to your surprise, he merely gave a curt nod of approval before waving you off.

"Not bad, newbie," he grunted. "Get a good night's rest. We'll need you back bright and early tomorrow."

Those few gruff words of acceptance warmed you more than any high praise could have. For Thomason, a man of very few words, his small nod seemed to indicate you were, for the moment, living up to his exceedingly high standards.

The high from that small victory buoyed your spirits as you made your way towards the back exit, already dreaming of the few hours of sleep you might be able to grab before starting the cycle over again. You were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you nearly bowled someone over coming around a corner.

"Whoa there!"  

You froze, looking up into the grinning, mirthful eyes of Harry Styles himself. Up close, the force of his charm and magnetism practically crackled in the air around him like a physical force. His sweater clung distractingly to his lithe, muscular frame and his chestnut hair was casually tousled. A pair of small diamond studs glinted in each ear.

"Sorry about that, H-Harry," you stammered, resisting the urge to take a flustered step back. You were vividly aware of just how little physical space separated the two of you. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

If he noticed your frazzled state up close, Harry didn't let on. His pink lips merely curved in an easy, dimpled smile. "No need to apologize. I don't usually make a habit of lurking around blind corners, to be fair."

You laughed before you could stop yourself, surprised at how easily he was putting you at ease despite your elevated heart rate. Up close, Harry's eyes weren't just green - an entire kaleidoscope of colors ranging from jade to emerald to amber seemed to shift and dance in his gaze. It was...dazzling, frankly.

Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to take a subtle step backwards, putting a more professional amount of space between the two of you. The last thing you needed was to do something wildly inappropriate that would get you fired before the end of your first week.

"Still, I should have been paying better attention to my surroundings," you replied, aiming for a respectful, levelheaded tone. "It's been a really intense couple of days just trying to stay on top of everything."

Harry nodded in understanding, arching one perfectly sculpted brow. "Thomason hasn't let up on you at all, I take it?" 

When you shook your head ruefully, he chuckled. "I know that seems like his permanent state - gruff, perpetually unsatisfied, and grumpy as a hibernating bear. But honestly, the fact that he hasn't fired you already is a good sign you're doing well."

You blinked at him in surprise. "Wait...really? But he critiques everything! I feel like I've gotten nothing but corrections so far."

"Exactly." Harry's dimples flashed as he grinned. "That's how you know he sees potential in you. If Thomason didn't think you had what it took, he wouldn't waste his breath giving feedback. He'd just cut you loose and hire someone else to start over."

His words were like a soothing balm on the anxiety and self-doubt you'd been carrying around for the past couple of days. You hadn't realized that Thomason's critical approach was actually a twisted form of acceptance and mentorship. The revelation caused the hard knot of tension between your shoulder blades to finally release.

"Huh," you exhaled, unable to stop the small smile tugging at your lips as you finally understood Thomason's tough love. "I guess I should take that as a compliment then."

"Absolutely," Harry agreed with an approving nod. Then his expression softened around the edges, growing earnest as his gaze searched yours. "Look, I know it's a huge adjustment and the pace here can be absolutely brutal starting out. But for what it's worth...I think you've got what it takes to be something really special in this kitchen."

You felt yourself flush at his unexpected praise, your stomach fluttering with a swarm of nervous butterflies. Harry held your eyes for a lingering moment before seeming to mentally collect himself.

Clearing his throat, he flashed you one more crooked grin. "But don't take my word for it - the proof will be in your work. Stay focused and trust the process. I've got faith you can handle it."

With that, he brushed past you, his shoulder grazing yours in a way that made your entire body buzz with friction. As Harry sauntered off down the hallway, you couldn't stop yourself from turning to watch his retreating form - the easy, rolling gait, the tantalizing sway of his hips below the slim cut of his trousers, the tousled waves of his chestnut hair.

You let out a shaky exhale, feeling off-balance and electrified all at once. Get a grip, you scolded yourself firmly. That was your boss - your incredibly famous, wealthy, and wildly attractive boss. Daydreaming was a one-way ticket to catching inappropriate feelings and potentially torpedoing your entire career before it even started.

And yet...you couldn't quite silence the part of your brain reliving Harry's velvet tone and intense eye contact as he professed having faith in your abilities. Just the casual warmth of his voice and proximity had set your heart pounding in a way it hadn't since you were a hormonal teenager, utterly dazzled by his rock star persona.

Shaking your head, you forced yourself to turn on your heel and head for the exit. Overthinking could only lead to dangerous territory. You needed to stay laser-focused on your work - that was the only way to succeed at Haus and make your culinary dreams a reality.

As you stepped out into the fresh evening air, you paused for a moment on the deserted back stoop, closing your eyes and taking a few centering breaths. When you opened them again, you felt the last fluttering tendrils of Harry's heated presence dissipate, replaced by a familiar sense of determined calm.

This job was your priority now, not silly schoolgirl crushes or indulging fantasies about your wildly unattainable boss. You knew better than to get distracted by daydreams that could only lead to self-sabotage. 

With a decisive nod, you strode towards your car with renewed focus. You would prove yourself at Haus through your skills and work ethic alone. No other agenda, no unprofessional entanglements allowed. 

Your passion was cuisine, creating nourishing dishes that delighted - that had to remain your sole priority. You couldn't afford any distractions from that lest you squander this incredible opportunity. Steadying your breathing, you looked forward with fresh clarity and resolve.

Tomorrow was a new day to earn your place in Harry's formidable kitchen. And this time, you vowed, you were utterly prepared to meet the challenge with your complete and undivided focus.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

tell me if you like this! this is an idea for a new series that will probably have 6 parts??? i guess. but do tell me if you like it! because there's no use in writing when nobody reads 😭😭

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[crystallizedtwilight]

🎃 LSBC Questions: Part 11! 🎃

Bringing this back! I cannot answer every Lock, Shock, Barrel, and Calliope question with a drawing, but I'd still still like to respond to them in some way! Questions that call for quick answers will be under the cut in batches of 10-15 🧡

Previous bulk questions batch

New questions:

Overview

yeah

Lock's hair shape is natural! The trio have found which hair styles make them feel their best but Shock once had short hair on accident

When it counts

Barrel always had a crush on Lock. Lock was unaware, the feeling was not mutual, and it wasn’t until Barrel kissed him that Lock entertained the idea of a fwb relationship. It would be 2 years after that before Lock admitted to his own feelings.

Lock's "uh-oh" moment

Unlike Lock, Barrel has a pretty good handle on his emotions. He hasn't cried to his friends yet, but he could if he wanted to.

Sally makes a good amount of their wardobe, though Barrel does like to bring back monster pun T-shirts from the human word bc he thinks they're funny: [1] [2] [3]

He trusts Jack's judgement, but the trio still scare him lol

When Shock first announced she was starting coven studies it led to the biggest fight Lock ever had with her. Lock mistakenly thought the trio was falling apart / Shock was replacing them with the coven.

They did reconcile, but Lock's idea of being "supportive" from that point on was simply not being resistant, and he wasn't overly congratulatory like Barrel was [1] [2] [3].

I imagine in the future, when Shock finally graduates, She'll finally get acknowledgement from her rival. He'll nod and say something short like "well done" and it will mean the world to her.

[dandelionsresilience]

Good News - August 15-21

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my new(ly repurposed) Patreon!

1. Smart hives and dancing robot bees could boost sustainable beekeeping

“[Researchers] developed a digital comb—a thin circuit board equipped with various sensors around which bees build their combs. Several of these in each hive can then transmit data to researchers, providing real-time monitoring. [… Digital comb] can [also] be activated to heat up certain parts of a beehive […] to keep the bees warm during the winter[…. N]ot only have [honeybee] colonies reacted positively, but swarm intelligence responds to the temperature changes by reducing the bees' own heat production, helping them save energy.”

2. Babirusa pigs born at London Zoo for first time

“Thanks to their gnarly tusks […] and hairless bodies, the pigs are often called "rat pigs" or "demon pigs” in their native Indonesia[….] “[The piglets] are already looking really strong and have so much energy - scampering around their home and chasing each other - it’s a joy to watch. They’re quite easy to tell apart thanks to their individual hair styles - one has a head of fuzzy red hair, while its sibling has a tuft of dark brown hair.””

3. 6,000 sheep will soon be grazing on 10,000 acres of Texas solar fields

“The animals are more efficient than lawn mowers, since they can get into the nooks and crannies under panel arrays[….] Mowing is also more likely to kick up rocks or other debris, damaging panels that then must be repaired, adding to costs. Agrivoltaics projects involving sheep have been shown to improve the quality of the soil, since their manure is a natural fertilizer. […] Using sheep instead of mowers also cuts down on fossil fuel use, while allowing native plants to mature and bloom.”

4. Florida is building the world's largest environmental restoration project

“Florida is embarking on an ambitious ecological restoration project in the Everglades: building a reservoir large enough to secure the state's water supply. […] As well as protecting the drinking water of South Floridians, the reservoir is also intended to dramatically reduce the algae-causing discharges that have previously shut down beaches and caused mass fish die-offs.”

5. The Right to Repair Movement Continues to Accelerate

“Consumers can now demand that manufacturers repair products [including mobile phones….] The liability period for product defects is extended by 12 months after repair, incentivising repairs over replacements. [… M]anufacturers may need to redesign products for easier disassembly, repair, and durability. This could include adopting modular designs, standardizing parts, and developing diagnostic tools for assessing the health of a particular product. In the long run, this could ultimately bring down both manufacturing and repair costs.”

6. Federal Judge Rules Trans Teen Can Play Soccer Just In Time For Her To Attend First Practice

“Today, standing in front of a courtroom, attorneys for Parker Tirrell and Iris Turmelle, two transgender girls, won an emergency temporary restraining order allowing Tirrell to continue playing soccer with her friends. […] Tirrell joined her soccer team last year and received full support from her teammates, who, according to the filing, are her biggest source of emotional support and acceptance.”

7. Pilot study uses recycled glass to grow plants for salsa ingredients

“"We're trying to reduce landfill waste at the same time as growing edible vegetables," says Andrea Quezada, a chemistry graduate student[….] Early results suggest that the plants grown in recyclable glass have faster growth rates and retain more water compared to those grown in 100% traditional soil. [… T]he pots that included any amount of recyclable glass [also] didn't have any fungal growth.”

8. Feds announce funding push for ropeless fishing gear that spares rare whales

“Federal fishing managers are promoting the use of ropeless gear in the lobster and crab fishing industries because of the plight of North Atlantic right whales. […] Lobster fishing is typically performed with traps on the ocean bottom that are connected to the surface via a vertical line. In ropeless fishing methods, fishermen use systems such an inflatable lift bag that brings the trap to the surface.”

9. Solar farms can benefit nature and boost biodiversity. Here’s how

“[… M]anaging solar farms as wildflower meadows can benefit bumblebee foraging and nesting, while larger solar farms can increase pollinator densities in surrounding landscapes[….] Solar farms have been found to boost the diversity and abundance of certain plants, invertebrates and birds, compared to that on farmland, if solar panels are integrated with vegetation, even in urban areas.”

10. National Wildlife Federation Forms Tribal Advisory Council to Guide Conservation Initiatives, Partnerships

“The council will provide expertise and consultation related to respecting Indigenous Knowledges; wildlife and natural resources; Indian law and policy; Free, Prior and Informed Consent[… as well as] help ensure the Federation’s actions honor and respect the experiences and sovereignty of Indigenous partners.”

August 8-14 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[starryhyuck]

how long before we fall in love? (m) — PATREON EXCLUSIVE

pairing: tsundere!doyoung x afab!reader

words: 5k+

summary: your friends don’t think you could possibly get the cold, mean-spirited kim doyoung to beg for you. it’s time to prove them wrong.

genre: smut, fluff

warnings: harddom!doyoung, daddy kink, throat fucking, degradation, car sex, choking, creampie

this fic is exclusive to the $5 tier on my patreon, which you can access here! below is a tumblr preview

Kim Doyoung is two years older than you and about to graduate university.

He’s your perfect type — studious, outgoing, and incredibly caring of others. You almost tripped over your own two feet when you first laid eyes on his adorable bunny smile and button nose that you so desperately want to boop. He’s the walking fantasy of every girl’s ideal husband.

The only problem with your crush is that he hates you.

“Hi, Doyoung,” you say in a flirtatious tone, following him as he walks out of his business operations class. He ignores you, backpack slung over his shoulder as he picks up his pace. You chase after him, convincing yourself that he didn’t hear you the first time. “How was class? I heard Professor Park can be so strict with grading but since you’re top of the class, that must mean you’re his favorite! I mean, they don’t call you a gifted scholar for nothing-“

“I’m not in the mood.”

His voice is curt as he rounds the corner of the building, heading down the stairs. You’re quick to follow him, trying to keep up with his footsteps.

“That’s fine! Some days I’m not really in the mood either. Talking to people can be so exhausting, but I think it’s important to build good social skills.”

Taeyong waits for Doyoung at the bottom of the staircase, eyebrow raised when he sees you trailing not too far behind. Around campus, Taeyong was known as the happy social butterfly with his unique fashion style and colorful hair dos. Once he graduated last year, he was able to secure a job as a social media manager for a respected designer brand. He still lingers on campus from time to time to hang out with Doyoung and some of their other friends. He is very well aware of your pining after his best friend, and it brings him a certain amusement that nothing else can compare to.

Taeyong says your name joyfully. “Are you joining us for lunch today?”

You beam, excited to accept the invitation before Doyoung cuts you off.

“No, she’s not,” he replies with a pointed glare to Taeyong.

“Oh, I don’t mind! I’m done with classes for the rest of the day,” you say with a sparkle gleaming in your eye. The thought of having lunch with Kim Doyoung fulfilled some of your greatest fantasies.

Maybe you’d have remnants of food left over on your chin and he would wipe it away for you! Maybe the portions would be too big so you decide to share! Maybe he pulls out your chair for you when you sit down and holds your purse so no one steals it!

“I don’t want you to join,” Doyoung says with hard conviction.

Taeyong winces at the spiteful nature in his tone. You’re not deterred in the slightest, still blinking at him with a ditzy smile. You guess if he didn’t want to have lunch with you today, surely he would be open to it another time.

want to read the rest? access the $5 tier on my patreon here!

[piratefishmama]

Fake it 'Till you Make it | Part 14

“Eye Spy… with my little eye… something beginning wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiith T”

“Is it tree?”

“God, how do you keep doing that?”

“That’s been your fifth tree in six rounds, Eddie.”

“There’s loads of trees!!”

Steve was driving, he’d taken the driver’s seat of the rental car, Eddie calling shotgun putting his parents in the back seat, which neither really minded as they still had a few things to work out that they’d put on the back burner to allow Steve and Eddie to take those middle seats on the plane.

“Okay my turn, eye spy, with my little eye, something beginning with… T.”

“Is it tree?”

Steve sniggered but shook his head no. “No it’s not tree.”

“Can I have a hint?”

“It’s black.”

“T and black… can I have another hint?”

“You only get two hints are you sure you wanna use it now?” It was actually quite cute how Eddie hesitated, hand lifting to his chin, fingernails caught on his bottom teeth. “Maybe try another guess?”

“T and black…” Eddie looked down, and around himself, there was nothing outside that fit the bill, so it had to be inside the car. “T… and black… it’s definitely black, and begins with T… Teeelevision?”

“Do you see a television?”

“No.”

“No, Eddie, it’s not a television” he clicked his fingers in disappointment, as if it were actually a plausible guess.

“Tuuuuuaardvark.”

“What the hell is a tuaardvark?”

“An aardvark with a Tu at the beginning.” Steve really was trying to focus on the road, but Eddie was so effortlessly funny that it was impossible not to laugh. “Okay gimmie the hint, and make it a juicy one. An I do mean juicy, it needs to rival your—”

“Eddie!”

“Your juicy personality, get thy glorious head and its voluminous hair out of the gutter, baby.” He got a quiet giggle out of Lynda with that one, both parents trying not to get involved. They had things to do, even a getaway had work involved.

“For that alone I’m only going to tell you that there’s a few of them.” But he was going to smile about it, because he couldn’t stop himself from smiling, it was just… to hard to not smile around Eddie. His enjoyment was as infectious as his happiness.

“Awh shit, I always knew I’d be my own undoing. Go on then, put me out of my misery.”

“You sure you don’t want one more guess?”

“Do you think that’d help?”

“I think if you really look you could get it.”

“God you have such confidence in me, where was this support when I was trying to graduate? Okay.” Eddie pulled his long legs up and awkwardly crossed them in his seat, eyes skimming the surrounding area, then dipping down, brows furrowed in thought. A black few things beginning with T… a black few things, beginning with T… Teeee tee-tee-tee-tee-teeeee…teeeeshirt?”

“No, it’s not T-shirt.”

“Shit. Okay, not T-shirt” he reached up his hand and scratched his cheekbone, and out of the corner of his eye— he gasped sharply and yelled, “tattoo!!”

“Ladies and gentlemen of the car, he’s GOT IT!” There was a polite round of applause from the back seat that Eddie turned back to bow to, hands clasped together in victory. “Ooh, we’re almost there, one more round I think, and don’t pick a tree.”

“Okay! Okay lemme think, let me think, leeet me…OOH, eye spy, with my little eye, something beginning with M.”

“It’s mole isn’t it?”

“GodDAMMIT!”

Eddie had no idea what to expect when they started their journey, he had no idea what their end result would look like, he had a vague idea that it’d probably be extravagant, and that maybe he wouldn’t like the look of it purely going off of the Harrington’s house back in Hawkins, that place looked cold.

It looked empty.

What sat nestled at the end of a long woodland driveway, was nothing like the Harrington House.

Sure, it was large, could probably fit a good few families in there with room to spare, but it was styled like a log-cabin, just, bigger. It was all wood undoubtedly farmed from the surrounding areas, natural stone work making up the foundation and the chimney probably mined from the mountains around them, and glass windows.

It looked… huge but still so cosy.

Like the inside would probably smell a little like Christmas and warm every inch of you just by standing in it.

“Okay,” Eddie turned around in his seat to look into the back, and really did try and school his tone into something as respectful as he possibly could manage “not to disrespect your house in Hawkins but why would you live there in that if you have this out here?” Hawkins was a shithole in Eddie’s opinion, it was full of backwards thinking angry church types with vendettas against fun and honestly nothing happened there.

The most exciting thing to happen in Hawkins in the history of ever, was when an owl attacked Eleanor Gillespie’s hair because it looked suspiciously like a nest.

They had no creepy ghost stories, no weird happenings, no strange people unless you count himself and maybe a few of the hellfire kids, maybe his bandmates, but it was boring. He wanted out. The only thing keeping him there was… well… his Uncle.

“It’s not ours” John answered as the car pulled to a stop outside of the slowly opening garage, the eldest Harrington putting his things back into his bag and unclipping the seatbelt. “It’s Steven’s.” And that wide-eyed stare was immediately switched from the elder Harrington’s to the youngest, the sheepishly smiling Steve.

“It belonged to my grandparents, or well… my grandpa. He left it to me in the will, but we’ve been coming here to spend time with them for years this is just… the second year now without either of them here.” They had a maintenance guy, or multiple guys on retainer who’d go in once every two weeks to keep the place clean, but other than that it remained empty. Eddie couldn’t stop himself from placing a comforting hand on Steve’s shoulder, expression softening, Steve shook his head though, “sorry, that just set a weird mood, let’s just… get inside and get settled, yeah? I’ll even let you pick our room.”

“Room as in… one room? For the both of us? That’s—that’s uhm” he looked back at the parents “that’s okay with you guys?”

“Sure, again it’s not our house.” And even if it was, both John and Lynda figured Steve would wind up in Eddie’s room anyway “we’d prefer it though if you picked one on the other side of the house to ours.” John opened the car door, catching Eddie’s attention again “we’ve been burned by those old wooden walls before.” And then he was out of the car, followed by Lynda who he helped climb out, leaving both men in the car alone while they made their way to the house.

Steve pulled forwards into the vacant garage, the door to shut behind them, and a light automatically switched on, replacing the darkness of the garage with a warm white light.

“They’re not the only ones who’ve been burned, trust me.” Steve shook his head with an amused smile as he cut the engine. “Is the one room okay, Eddie? It’s not like… crossing any lines with you, is it?” His parents weren’t there, they couldnt hear them, there was no reason to pretend, even if he did want to try and make it as realistic as possible as per Robin’s idea, he had to keep checking in with Eddie to make sure he was okay.

“No! No, no it’s okay… I’ve never… I haven’t really… shared a room with anyone before” only child, and Wayne had given him the only room in the trailer “is it like… a two bed situation or—”

“One bed, Eddie… one room, one bed, there’s only one room in that house with multiple beds in it and it’s full of bunk beds from when I was twelve an all the cousins used to visit around the same time… it might seem a bit weird if we pick that one.” He was going to be spending an entire week… sleeping in the same bed as Steve Harrington, in what was essentially a dream house nestled in the woods.

He was going to get used to it. He was going to get used to it all, and it was going to kill him to leave it all at the end of the week. It was going to destroy him to lose it all.

“Heh… maybe—maybe someday we could bring the kids up, they could stay in the bunk bed room” grin and bear it, maybe it’d all work out if he just… went with the flow. Wishful thinking usually went against the good ol Munson Doctrine, but… everything Steve had been doing since they first started their whacky plan had flown in the face of that stupid doctrine so… maybe deviating from it wouldn’t hurt as bad as it could if he just… went with it.

“I mean… we could force them to use the bunkbeds, an that could be pretty funny”

They probably wouldn’t be as psyched to stay in bunkbeds as they would have been back when they were all tiny, squishy middle schoolers, although it’d probably be easier to get their parents to agree to the trip now they were older.

“Payback for all the shit they’ve thrown at us over the years.”

“It’s like you’re in my brain.”

Part 16

[jessi-fressita]

---*.°⁠⊰⁠⊹.Gyaru: origins and basics*.°⁠⊰⁠⊹ฺ----

By:Jessi_fressita

hai :3 this little post is to learn about the origins of gyaru and what the basics used to be. I'll soon make the posts about the styles, detailing what each one consists of. enjoy! ↓

Gyaru emerged in the 1980s as bold young women who defied Japan’s traditional beauty standards. Inspired by Western fashion, they began dyeing their hair and wearing striking makeup, challenging conventional aesthetic ideals. Over time, Gyaru transformed from a simple urban trend into a solid subculture with its own unique identity, encompassing both aesthetics and lifestyle.

Although it faced a decline, its recent revival, fueled by social media and the rise of alternative fashion and subcultures during the pandemic due to excess free time, has reignited interest, attracting both new followers and veteran members who have embraced the movement once again. Gyaru is the most commonly used term but "Gyal" and "Gal" are also valid, all of them meaning: girl/girls.

There used to be different ways to classify gyaru: Age, skin tone and way of dressing. ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

Age

Ko-Gyaru (School Girl Gyaru): Originally, this term referred to girls still attending school who embraced the gyaru style. Over time, as kogyaru became known for their unique twist on school uniforms, the term expanded to include any gyaru dressed in this fashion.

SutoGyaru (Forever Gyaru): This described adult women or school graduates who continued following the gyaru style. Over time, the term "Suto-Gyaru" fell out of use.

Skin tone

Ganjiro or Shirogyaru: The term "Ganjiro" translates to "white face" or "bare face" and was used to describe girls who either could not or chose not to tan their skin in solariums, maintaining their natural tone. Their style was simple, with less exaggerated clothing and makeup. Today, the term "Shirogyaru" (where "Shiro" 白 means "white") is more common. It refers to gyaru who wear simpler makeup and clothing. Notably, this term was also used in the past, but "Ganjiro" was more popular at the time.

Ganguro: This term derives from "gan" (顔), meaning "face," and "kuro" (黒), meaning "black." It described girls who frequently visited tanning salons, achieving a deep tan but not to an extreme level. Ganguro style is marked by intense tans, blonde or bleached hair, white makeup on the eyes and lips, and bold, sensual outfits that were unconventional at the time. Kuro Gyaru: The word "kuro" (黒) translates to "black" in Japanese. Previously, this term referred to a gyaru fashion style characterized by a darker, bolder appearance compared to other gyaru styles.

Manba/Yamanba: Today, it contrasts with "Shirogyaru," describing girls who aim for deeply tanned skin, vibrant clothing, striking hairstyles, and dramatic makeup. These gyaru often enhance their look with white eye makeup, darker foundation, stickers, white lips, and brightly colored hair adorned with floral accessories.

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

The next post will be about gyaru styles and what each one consists of.

[richarlotte]

Someone else you admire?

My good friend Twilly went to uni at 16 for PoliSci, Philosophy, and French, faithfully saved to be able to attend PFW every year for four years and to take the Eurail around Europe, and she’s graduating and moving to Europe to start grad school next year. I visited her at McGill when we were both around 19, and I was blown away by how much she’d been able to accomplish in the six months since I’d last seen her.

 

Twill is chic, totally carefree, cool, Congolese, and never too much. She’s found ways to study internationally for most of her life; she wrote a fashion magazine in high school; her music taste and humor are impeccable; and she’s got the bookshelf of my daydreams. T ran a small style, fashion, and lifestyle zine called “The Ambassador’s Wife” for the longest time, and the yearly zine perfectly captured the life I want to lead one day. She has such an eye for detail and has studied aesthetics and art in such depth.

 

She’s a chef, she jokes that she’s a bit of a literary dilettante but she’s far from it, she’s an artist, and she’s a dancer and actress. Twilly is the definition of a cool girl; it comes naturally to her. She’s adventurous and exotic without ever seeming like she’s trying too hard; she’s intelligent, cosmopolitan, inquisitive, and really extraordinary. She’s always told me that there’s something to be said about living life without the need for constant approval, and she’s right—there is.

 

People don’t just want to know Twilly; they want to be around her and have her in their lives. She’s magnetic and can make the worst of times seem like the best. She’d toss her hair over her shoulder and joke about spending too much time watching Anthony Bourdain, but she’s the sort of person who strays off the beaten track, comes back with stories, and has experiences that make you want to follow her the next time she goes. It’s hard to be the queen of the Irish goodbye when everyone wants you to stay, but she manages. 

 

There was a summer where she broke her phone and had to make do with a flip phone and her digital camera, so as she traveled, she’d write her address on the back of a spare photo she’d printed and distribute them to anyone she wanted to stay in contact with. She returned home to dozens of her photos mailed back to her and had to send off hundreds of texts and emails to get back in contact with everyone she’d met.

 

I admire her immensely and believe her to be one of the most consistent people in my life. We’ve known each other for years, watched each other grow, and leaned on each other. I faithfully send updates and advice, and she keeps me up to date with the major fashion houses she follows. It can be difficult to make high quality friends that mature with you as you grow up, so I think I'm especially lucky to have someone so likeminded and understanding in my life as one of my closest girls.

[miheartsedthings]

Happy Valentine's Day, Loves!

Ready for a treat? 😊 I've got just the thing. Let's take a look at your first kiss with Billy Hargrove.

Summary: Because of an altercation with his dad, Billy shows up late for your first date, and with a black eye. The two of you end up on the playground looking at the stars.

SFW Billy x Reader

Warnings: Implied child abuse.

Note: You and Billy are both 18 but you haven't graduated yet.

❣️The First Kiss❣️

You're watching the clock on your nightstand slowly countdown to 6pm. Your nerves are rattling, and you can't find the bracelet you wanted to wear. You started getting ready two hours ago, yet it feels like time has flown by and you're still rushing around putting on finishing touches. This is what Billy Hargrove does to you.

You'd met in detention. You were there for your alleged involvement in a fight. In truth all you'd done was pull a girl off your friend when it looked like she was losing. You may have tossed a couple words at the other girl but nothing that wasn't true. Nevertheless your friend got suspended and you got detention, where Billy Hargrove sat leaned back in his chair, arm slung around the back of the empty seat beside him.

The chaperone left halfway through the hour to run an errand, leaving you alone with the mischievous hottie who, unbeknownst to you, was stealing glances at you whenever he could. Before you knew it, he was plopping down in the seat beside you, tossing his arm behind your back like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Didn't know you were the fighting type.”

You were surprised to hear him talk to you. Billy Hargrove who only associated with the popular and blonde. It hadn't occurred to you that he knew anything about you, let alone why you'd gotten in trouble.

“I broke up the fight, actually.”

“That's real heroic.”

You cut your eyes at him, annoyed by his condescending tone. He only smirked.

“You better be careful making that face at me.”

Your face warmed, nerves fluttering in your stomach. He laughed because he could tell what kind of effect he had on you. Before you knew it the two of you were talking about the hardass way Hawkins approached discipline. He asked if you wanted to ditch the rest of detention, and when you said you couldn't risk getting into more trouble, he teased you. You asked if he would stop bothering you so you could pass the rest of the hour in peace, and he asked you out.

That was a few hours ago, and now you're freaking out because you can't find your bracelet and the clock just struck 6. You rifle through your jewelry case one more time, then finally give up. You snatch your phone from the charger, add an extra puff of perfume, and rush out of your bedroom. In the end, all the rushing is for nothing, because you get downstairs and go to the window, just to find that Billy isn't there. Not a big deal, he's never come across as a punctual person. You sat on the couch and waited, still excited. You wonder if he'll like your outfit, the way you styled your hair. Minutes tick by.

“He's still not here?” Your mom asks, clearly disapproving.

“He's just a little late. No big deal.”

You try to hide your nerves but you're starting to worry. Wondering if the whole thing had been a joke. You've heard rumors about Billy being rude and sometimes downright cruel, but you figured they were exaggerations. Maybe you'd been naive in this.

Five and then ten minutes goes by, and with every moment you doubt more and more the fun you'd had with him in detention. Maybe you'd imagined that he'd been into you. Foolishly believed he'd break from his asshole behavior and show you a better side of himself. After nearly 30 minutes you're ready to call it. Your mom is saying he doesn't know what he's missing and you're trying not to feel like an idiot, when your phone rings. You stare at the phone a moment before you answer. You bring it to your ear and don't even say anything. Too angry to speak.

“I'm here.”

Is all he says before hanging up.

“Tell me you're not going.” Your mom says, giving you a look.

“I'll be back before curfew.”

Outside, Billy sits in his black Camaro with his sunglasses on, bobbing his head to “Symphony of Destruction” by Megadeath. You slip into the passenger seat and stare at him for a moment, not even closing the door. He looks over.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah?”

You snip back. He smirks.

“Damn, you really are so cute when you're mad.”

He goes to touch your cheek and you turn your face away.

“You're late.”

You say, fighting your attraction to him with your arms crossed. His demeanor is cold, and he watches you behind those shades with a flat expression.

“I got into somethin’”

“You got into something.”

His jaw tensed.

“You gonna let me make it up to you?”

His tone is sharp and wounding. You're conflicted for a moment. If he hadn't shown up at all you would've been sure he was just fucking with you. If he'd sat there in detention without saying a word to you, your life would've gone on as normal. But, he'd spoken to you, and nothing's normal anymore. You're sitting there with Billy Hargrove, he's late but he's there, asking to make it up to you.

You shut the door and the song changes from Megadeath to Metallica. Any giddiness you'd felt for the date has already drained away and now you're more curious than anything. What exactly did he ‘get into’ that made him so late? Why was he being so uncharacteristically quiet? And why in the goddamn hell was he wearing sunglasses at night?

You hoped this wasn't the legendary Hargrove charm; showing up late in a shitty mood paying lazy homage to some tacky rock song? No thanks.

The burger place is pretty packed when the two of you arrive. People crowded into the space. One booth is full of kids graduating under you who recognize Billy instantly. They lean into their little cluster and whisper, not even attempting discretion. You focus on the menu, remembering your appetite in a sudden rush of hunger.

“Man, I forgot how hungry I was.”

You say as the two of you settle at a booth with your meals.

“How do you forget something like that?”

He doesn't take off the sunglasses to eat. You shrug and answer with your mouth full.

“Thought I was getting stood up.”

“Why would I ask you out just to stand you up?”

“Happens all the time.”

“To you?”

“Well, yeah. Once.”

He stops mid-chew, looking at you.

“No shit.”

“I'm serious. I really liked the guy, too. Left me waiting at a roller rink.”

He shakes his head.

“Fuckin dumbass.”

You smile a little. It can't be helped. After food you climb back into the car. You've already missed half of the movie you were meant to see.

“Wanna wait for the later one?”

You ask him, only to be met with a shrug. He's noticeably distracted and drives with the music turned up. Every once in a while he winces as if in some invisible pain.

“Are you okay?”

“I'm great, doll, how are you?”

He looks at you, cracking his lips into a forced smile.

“I'm wondering why you're wearing sunglasses?”

“Is it a problem? I'll take you home if you don't like it.”

“Is that what you wanna do? Go back home?”

This makes him settle, and the little sneer recedes until he's flat again. Hidden.

“I have an idea.”

You direct him to your old elementary school’s playground. Once there, you're reminded of your favorite pastime and your giddiness returns. As soon as the car is in park you unbuckle and hop out.

“Damn,” he exclaims, hurrying to follow you.

You glance up at the sky, ecstatic to find the street lamps are dim enough to see a bounty of stars.

“Ah, it's perfect.”

You race through the wood chips heading right for the swings.

“Alright,” You hop onto one of the swings and start pumping “I'm about to show you my special talent.”

“Don't get yourself hurt,” he chides and you shush him, already going faster and swinging higher than his head.

“You just stand back. Don't get in my way.”

He does stand back, shaking his head at you with a little amused smile.

“If you break your fuckin legs I swear to God.”

“I won't. I'm going over, up and over!”

“What?”

He's more than a little concerned when he sees how high you're going and realizes what you're talking about.

“What the fuck? Are you kidding?”

You swing up, your belly dropping with the familiar momentum, the world tilts backwards and for a moment you're flying.

“Nope.”

The trees bend away at an angle, and the city skyline stretches far beyond. You can see fields in the distance.

“You're not a kid, you're gonna fuckin tip this thing.”

“I won't!”

Your words whip by on the wind rushing past your face, then, a smattering of stars smears across your vision and for a moment you and the world are upside down. The chains rattle as your swing comes clammering back down to center, one loop completed. You're laughing uncontrollably and stagger off the swing on wobbly legs. Your head rushing.

“Holy shit.”

Billy’s mouth is hanging ajar.

“Told you.” You switch your hips like a boisterous pigeon, teasing “You're gonna fuckin flip it, you're not a fuckin kid.”

Before you can finish the taunt he's after you. The two of you take off in a game of chase, dashing through the chips, over the see saw and under the monkey bars until finally, he snatches you into his arms. His grip is tight around your waist from behind.

“Okay, okay, I give up.”

The two of you relax, and his grip eases, but there you are in his arms. Neither of you want to let go just yet. You stand there, his breath warm on your ear, his arms around your middle and your arms over his. The two of you fit together so perfectly. You turn your head, finding his lips right there, his handsome face, and those sunglasses. You reach up to remove them and he catches your hand.

“You're so weird.” You say, softly.

“Me? You're the one who almost nut yourself over the swingset.”

He had a point. The two of you make your way to the playset and lay down on the brown plastic, looking up at the stars.

“When I leave here, I'm going somewhere warm." You say, eyes on the stars "All I'm gonna do is sit outside drinking white wine and all I'm gonna eat is lobsters and coconuts.”

“Sounds like you're going to Cali, then.”

“I'll try it out, for sure. But I gotta see Jamaica, too. And the Virgin Islands. Miami, even.”

“I could see you in Miami.”

You rolled onto your side to look at him.

“Yeah?”

He smiles, and for once it's a real smile instead of a smirk.

“Yeah. But Cali’s better.”

You smile back.

“I'm glad you showed up.”

He doesn't say anything, but there's a response, a change in the way he regards you that you can't help but notice. Maybe it's the set of his mouth or the softening of his brows. Either way, the air is filled with static. When you speak again, it's so softly you think he might not hear you.

“Are you gonna tell me why you were late?”

He looks at you for a long moment. So long that you start to make your peace with the idea that you might never know. Then, he lifts up on his elbows and slowly takes off the sunglasses. Around his left eye, a darkening bruise. Your heart sinks looking at it, and registering the trepidation in his gaze. He isn't looking directly at you, his eyes focused on your lips, his expression flat, as if bracing for the worst.

You do something you've wanted to do for a long time, which is trace your finger along his jawline and then along his bottom lip. His eyes are kind. So kind it's a wonder he can be so intimidating. Looking at him now, you can't imagine this person hurting anyone. His eyes are kind, catching the light of the stars.

“Still so cute,” you say, and the relief he feels crumples his brow. He touches your cheek with the backs of his fingers, caressing gently. Then, you could be imagining it, but it seems like he's leaning in. No, he is leaning in! Your heart jerks to a start as he comes slowly closer. You close your eyes, and sure enough there are his lips, soft against your own.

You never imagined a kiss with him would feel so pure. You didn't think his tongue would be sweet, you didn't think he'd hold your chin and kiss you like you were so precious. But soon you'd know this kiss, you'd come to know it as the way he kisses you when he means to say: “I love you.”

Thanks for reading!! 💖

[fratttymatty]

Influenced

(All characters are 18+)

Elliot Turner had always been the kind of guy who thought three steps ahead. He was clever, witty, the kind of kid who spent his time buried in books and online articles about philosophy, science, and the complexities of human nature. At 18, he was getting ready to graduate from his small town in England, a place where he knew everyone but had always felt like an outsider. Being gay wasn’t the issue; he’d come out years ago and had the support of his best friends. But it was the rest of his life that always felt a little... off. His intellect set him apart from others. It made him feel different—and sometimes, alone.

Lately, though, Elliot couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe he was tired of being the smart, introspective guy. He envied those people—those influencers, effortlessly cool, living these perfect, carefree lives. He’d always thought they were shallow, superficial. But now? The idea of shedding his complex self and becoming someone who just fit in seemed more and more tempting.

Then, one day, he saw an ad pop up on his screen. “Want to become who you were always meant to be? Unlock your true potential with the Perfect Persona Transformation!” It promised something extraordinary: a complete transformation into the person of your dreams. The ad had a picture of a glowing, confident guy with perfect teeth and an even more perfect smile. It was tempting, irresistible in its simplicity.

Elliot wasn’t someone who typically fell for gimmicks, but lately, he felt desperate for change. He clicked the link without thinking.

The process was straightforward—too straightforward. Fill out a form with some vague questions about your goals, desires, and personality. He answered quickly, not really caring about the specifics. He was after a life that wasn’t so... complicated.

He clicked "Submit." Paid with his card. And within minutes, he received an email with a link to begin the transformation.

What did he have to lose? Maybe it was a self-help app, maybe some guided meditation, but he was curious now. So, he clicked.

The transformation came fast.

It started with a tingling, a pulse of static electricity that crawled beneath his skin. He felt dizzy, lightheaded, like his body was being rewired from the inside out. His fingers twitched, his chest constricted, and before he could process what was happening, the world around him went white.

When the whiteness cleared, he wasn’t Elliot Turner anymore.

The first thing he noticed was his body—taller, broader, with wide, muscular shoulders and smooth, golden skin. He was... beautiful. His reflection in the mirror was almost too perfect to believe. He ran his hand through his hair and immediately felt it part perfectly down the middle, a tousled, effortlessly styled middle part that framed his face like he was straight off a magazine cover. It was exactly the kind of hair that made people want to touch it.

He stared at himself. His face was chiseled now—strong jawline, sharp cheekbones, lips that looked like they were made for smirking. The kind of face that made people stop and stare.

“Okay,” he muttered, his voice sounding lower, more assured. It had a hint of an accent, Swedish, maybe? And when he looked down at his phone, it wasn’t his old phone. It was new, sleek, almost too shiny, and filled with notifications.

His name wasn’t Elliot anymore.

“Lukas... Vikström?” he said aloud, his lips forming the name like it was part of a new persona that fit him perfectly. Lukas Vikström. Lukas. It rolled off his tongue effortlessly, like it had always been him.

The memories hit him, flooding his mind like a storm. His old life, his real life, seemed so far away now. He was Lukas Vikström, a popular 18-year-old influencer from Stockholm. He was carefree, charming, the kind of guy who posted selfies in designer clothes, surrounded by beautiful people at parties, on yachts, in the best clubs.

He didn’t question it. He didn’t need to. His new life was easy. The weight of his old self, the thinking, the analyzing, the searching for meaning—it was all gone. All that mattered now was looking good, feeling good, and being admired.

The notifications on his phone were endless. Brand deals, new followers, dozens of new comments saying, "Lukas, you're perfect!" "Goals!" "I want to be you!"

He felt something warm spread through his chest. Pride? Maybe. But it felt more like... freedom.

The next morning at school, Lukas walked down the hall, effortlessly gliding through crowds of students. The whole school practically stopped to stare as he passed, everyone whispering about him, wanting to get close.

“Lukas, you’re the best! Let’s take a selfie!” someone shouted.

He grinned. His old self—Elliot—would have rolled his eyes, maybe even scoffed at the idea of taking selfies like it was beneath him. But Lukas? He didn’t even think twice. He struck a pose, effortlessly pulling a perfect, playful smile for the camera, like he'd done it a thousand times before.

He checked his Instagram as he walked, seeing his latest post racking up thousands of likes in a matter of minutes. He didn’t need to think about captions anymore—he just knew what people wanted to hear. A picture of him looking effortlessly perfect, his tousled hair falling just right, his grin radiating the kind of carefree energy people craved.

"Feeling amazing today, guys," he typed, his fingers moving quickly, instinctively. "Hope you’re all living your best life! Be happy, be hot, and don’t let anything hold you back! Love you all ❤️"

And that was it. Lukas Vikström didn’t care about deep thoughts or complicated ideas. He was who everyone wanted to be, and that was enough.

As he walked into his next class, Lukas was already thinking about what brand deal he’d sign next, what he’d post later, who would tag him in their story. It was a game now, and Lukas was playing it better than anyone.

Then came Sofia.

Sofia Johansson was the kind of girl everyone talked about. Her Instagram was practically a shrine to fashion, perfect selfies, and vacay pictures. Blonde, tan, and impossibly beautiful, she made her living out of posting sponsored content for beauty brands and posing at luxury events. But, like many influencers, she was... a bit ditzy.

Her captions were short, often full of emojis and half-thoughts. “Chillin’ at the beach with my fave bikini 💖🌴” or “Can’t believe how amazing this pizza is!!! 🍕😍 #sponsored.”

But despite her ditzy ways, Sofia had a magnetic charm. She didn’t need to be deep. People adored her for it.

The first time Lukas met Sofia, he was at a party—of course, it was a glamorous influencer event. There she was, draped in a designer dress that seemed to sparkle even more than her smile, her hair a perfect cascade of waves. When their eyes met, Lukas felt something stir inside him, something that wasn’t just admiration for her beauty.

She flashed him a playful grin, tilting her head like she was trying to figure him out. “You’re Lukas Vikström, right?” she asked, with a hint of excitement in her voice.

He nodded, offering his most charming smile. “Yeah. And you must be Sofia Johansson.”

“Oh my god, yes! I love your Instagram. You’re, like, totally goals 😍. We should totally collab sometime!” she said, practically bouncing with energy.

Sofia was everything Lukas now wanted—effortlessly glamorous, always in the spotlight, and completely free from any complicated thoughts. She was living in the moment, with no care for deeper meanings. And, to Lukas, that seemed perfect.

Within a week, they were an inseparable duo. Lukas would post pictures of them together, each shot more polished than the last—at parties, at luxury resorts, in the best clubs. Sofia was just as carefree as he was now, matching his vibe perfectly. They were a power couple—beautiful, sought after, adored by millions.

Her ditzy, bubbly personality fit perfectly into Lukas’s new world. They spent hours taking selfies together, posting stories, and planning brand deals. At first, Lukas had thought she might be a bit too... air-headed for him. But he quickly realized—she was perfect. She didn’t question anything. She didn’t think deeply about anything. She just enjoyed life.

And so did Lukas now.

By the time school ended for the day, Lukas was more than just the guy everyone talked about. He was the guy everyone wanted to be.

And as he and Sofia posed for yet another selfie, Lukas couldn’t help but smile.

This was it. This was his life now. The life he was always meant to have. Carefree. Perfect. Hot.

And he wasn’t about to change it for anything.

[reidslovely]

Coffee (It's Never Just That)

A/N: I'm back-ish. I'm gonna be slow in putting things out, but I want to write things I want and not feel like I'm trapped in my block. So baby steps.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Two ex-lovers can't have enough of each other until the game of love absolutely destroys them.

Warnings: Poorly written smut to represent the complicated relationship (18+). No happy ending.

please reblog!

playlist

Staring at the screen felt like a stab to the chest. What could one say?

P. Parker: Saw you today- coffee?

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she thought out a response. But with Peter it was never just that easy. The first time was supposed to be the only time it happened. But again, it was never just that easy. 

It was the Italian place down the street from Mary-Anne’s, the shitty dive bar she and Peter spent most of their college nights at. The invite was a shock, considering the two hadn’t spoken since their breakup at graduation. Nothing could feel as strange as accepting the invite to the place where she first met his aunt. If she closed her eyes tight enough she could have sworn May was to her right and Peter right in front of her. The three of them laughing over some joke she couldn’t quite pull from the memory. 

Hard cut to the Peter in front of her now. 

He looked different from the bleached blonde skater she fell in love with. His natural brown hair was grown out and styled perfectly, he had traded his geeky science shirts and band hoodies for a dark sports coat and blue sweater. The Peter who sat in front of her now was a science teacher, and the girl who sat in front of him was still in love with every version of him. 

“I always liked when you wore your glasses.” She muttered, tilting her head to the side slowly. 

Peter’s cheeks flushed a dark red, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. She chuckled in response not realizing she’d so rudely cut him off from his ramble with her compliment. 

“I know you did..” His eyes scanned over her in a way that made her feel naked. Something sinister creeped into Peter’s smile as he spoke. “I always loved that dress on you.”

Her hands dropped nervously into her lap soothing out the wrinkled fabric. Subconsciously, they both knew what they were doing here. 

That’s why, when her dress hit the hardwood floor in his midtown apartment she wasn’t shocked. It felt like old times, hands fitting into curves and each other's hair just like it used to. Soft whines and pleas for him to ‘stay right there’ as he buried himself inside her. Her legs wrapped around his hips holding him in place, Peter’s breath fanning her face as he lowered his face to hers, lips interlocking, as his hands held her legs in place nesting himself at her cervix as he spilled himself into her. 

And just like old times, when it was done and over with she clung to him, like holding onto her favorite memory. Foolishly, she was too trusting in falling asleep, because when she woke up he was gone. Police sirens and a breeze from the open window warming the empty spot in the bed- she rolled over falling back asleep knowing that this would always happen.

But, it wasn’t the last time it would happen. She couldn’t tell if she was happy about that or not. It was all curiosities fault that she texted him back a second time to meet up. 

Pete: Let’s go to the park? Sit and talk about it?

Curiosity responded with a bit too enthusiastic of a  yes now that she was looking back on it. 

She couldn’t be too hard on herself, anyone would have done the same for the guy they’d never fallen out of love with. So, she sat cross legged on a wooden bench in the front of the water fountain. She thought it would be silly for her to toss a quarter in trade for a wish- she always heard that was better than any penny. But not even that would change…this. Her head jolted up quickly as she noticed him approaching. She dressed casually this time, and swore to herself that no matter what he says she’s not following him home like a lovesick puppy- he is not hers. 

“I’m sorry I left like that.” 

What a way to start a conversation. An empty apology was always the thing Peter was best at. 

“Hey, it is what it is. You have..a duty and all.”

“It wasn't my intention to do that.” 

Air around them felt heavy, and against everything that’s telling her not to she asks.

“To leave or sleep with me?”

Peter’s shoulders slumped as he spoke, “Both.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Suddenly, she was twenty-two again, sitting amongst a sea of her peers who didn’t know the man she swore she’d marry just told her he’d never want to see her again. 

“I won’t let it happen again. I do want to be friends, it’s just- hard.”

They could never just be ‘friends’. 

The third and last time it happened was completely accidental. 

She checked the time on her phone for a fourth time that night. It was official- she’d been stood up. 

‘Awesome.’ She thought to herself. 

She downed the last of her wine, listening to the jazz band play. Reaching under the table for her bag, a pair of brown loafers slipped into her view. There he was, again, damnit. 

“This seat taken?” 

“No, h…have a seat.” She motioned nervously at the booth seat in front of her. Suddenly, she was very aware of the jazz band picking up tempo in their song mocking the panic setting in over her body. 

“Date? You’re early.” He teased taking a drink from his whiskey glass. 

“I’ve been stood up actually.” 

The silence that fell between the two was awkward and heavy. 

“Oh..I’m sorry baby.” 

There he goes again with his empty apologies. Sighing she sits her bag on the table waiting for her check. 

“What are you doing here?” She asks, sitting her arms on the table leaning forward to hear him. Peter clears his throat, clenching his glass nervously, he runs his finger down the condensation as he thinks. 

“Got tired of grading papers I was walking by and…poof…there you were.”

The air she blew out of her nose was followed by a laugh she couldn’t hold back. Without prompt or asking Peter slammed down a couple bills to cover the check before holding his hand out to her. Looking around she took a minute to weigh all her options and right now all she wanted was the comfort Peter could bring her. 

So she led him back to her place. The two stumbling through the door, lips interlocked. Peter’s hands in her hair dropped down, hiking up the bottom of her dress. His hand grabbing a fist full of her ass cheek in the process, pulling her in closer as he groped the skin. 

“I miss you.” 

He whispered against her cheek, she could feel her heart skipping a beat as he spoke. Leaning back in her hands connected in his hair. Something felt different this time. 

Something was much more real this time, all she could do with her back to his chest was moan out her usual pleas for him to stay with her. He held her close, his hand flat against the middle of her chest, she knew he felt every beat her heart made times ten as he drove into her. His free hand roaming and groping her chest. Peter follows his same routine, laying her face against the pillow as he holds onto her. She reaches for his hand, feeling his larger one engulf hers as he finishes inside her. This time she had him, he was hers. 

Or so she thought as she fell asleep on his chest, as stealthy as Peter thought he was, he was never quiet enough for her. The warmth of Peter was replaced by the softness of her down pillow, making her ears perk up. Silently, she sat up watching him getting dressed. Pulling her knees to her chest almost protecting herself from what is about to come. “Where are you going?” 

The question made Peter stop in his tracks. He couldn’t even find it in him to turn and face her. 

“I’ve..uh..gotta go.” His shoulders slumped as he slid his pants on, hands on his hips as he leaned his head back.  “Early morning and all..”

“It’s sunday.” She laughs “Come back to bed.” It was said in a voice she’d hope would pull him back. But when he said nothing and continued to put his shoes on she realized everything that was said in the moment earlier was just that, a fleeting moment. 

“God. You are never gonna change are you.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement that came off much more hateful than she intended for it to be, but she was tired and too grown for whatever game it was he was playing. The thing that hurt the most was he didn’t even try to argue back. He huffed, buttoning up his shirt and ruffling his hair. He finally turned to look at her with whatever decency he had, with another “I’m so sorry baby.” 

Hr was always sorry- he’d only ever be sorry. Wiping her tears she rolled over in her bed and pulled herself under her covers as the door shut. 

P. Parker: Baby? Coffee? What do you say?

The vibration pulled  from each disappointing memory of her heart breaking. But finally she was making the choice she knew she had too. 

You: Hey Peter! Can’t tonight lots of thesis work to finish, hope you’re doing good though!

She dropped her phone on the couch as she set her focus back onto her laptop. The door opening drew her attention over her shoulder, tossing Felicia a smile as she walked out of her bedroom. 

“Plans tonight?” The blonde asked in a sing-song voice.

“Nope.” 

There was a sinking feeling in her stomach as her phone buzzed once more, she fought everything in her to pick up and go crawling back into his bed. But for now, she was done.

taglist

@blooming-violets @sincericida @a-lumos-in-the-nox @tarzinnia @moonyslove78 @liz-allyn @someblessedmonster

@helloheyhihowdyheya @toomanyfictionalboyfriends @hollandweather @eevylynn

[onlyonetifosi]

2 part to: The engineer

It was a sunny morning in Monaco, and Yn Leclerc sat at the breakfast table with her family. Her mother, Pascale, had just finished serving them a delicious meal, and now they were engaging in light conversation before Yn's graduation ceremony.

"Je suis tellement fière de toi, ma chérie," Pascale said, placing a hand on Yn's arm. "You've worked so hard for this day."

Yn smiled gratefully at her mother. "Merci, Maman. I couldn't have done it without your support."

Her brothers, Lorenzo, Charles, and Arthur, nodded in agreement. They knew how dedicated Yn had been throughout her engineering studies, juggling her academic responsibilities and her part-time job.

Lorenzo spoke up, his voice filled with admiration. "Yn, tu es vraiment la plus intelligente d'entre nous. We're lucky to have you as our sister."

Yn's heart warmed at her brothers' words. She had always been proud of their achievements in motorsports, but sometimes, she couldn't help feeling a pang of insecurity. Being the only sibling pursuing higher education, she had often felt left out of their racing world.

"Merci, Lorenzo," Yn replied, her voice tinged with vulnerability. "I'm proud of all of you too, but sometimes I wish I could have been a part of the racing journey as well."

Charles, who had become an established Formula 1 driver, reached across the table and grasped Yn's hand. "Yn, we love and support you in everything you do. Racing might be our passion, but we know how hard you've worked for your degree."

Arthur chimed in, his tone sincere. "Exactly! We wouldn't be where we are without your unwavering support and encouragement. You're an integral part of our success."

Yn's eyes welled up with tears, and she squeezed Charles and Arthur's hands. "Thank you, both of you. I'm so lucky to have such amazing brothers."

Pascale, ever the nurturing mother, rose from her seat. "Enough of the mushy talk, mes enfants! We have a graduation to prepare for."

The family spent the next few hours together, helping Yn get ready for her big day. Pascale, a talented hairdresser, skillfully styled Yn's hair, creating an elegant updo. She then applied subtle makeup to enhance Yn's natural beauty.

As Yn looked at herself in the mirror, she felt a sense of confidence radiating from within. She was ready to face the world, armed with her education and the unwavering support of her family.

The graduation ceremony took place in a grand auditorium, with friends, faculty, and fellow students gathered to celebrate their achievements.

"Y/N Leclerc, s'il vous plaît, venez sur scène" Y/N's name was called, a sense of accomplishment washed over her. She gracefully walked across the stage, accepting her degree with honors from her professor, Madame Moreau. The audience erupted in applause, and Y/N couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude towards her family, especially her late father, who had instilled in her a passion for knowledge.

Y/N took a deep breath and made her way to the stage. Applause filled the room as she accepted her diploma with a radiant smile. In that moment, all her hard work and sacrifices felt worth it.

After the graduates received their diplomas, Y/N was invited to give a speech on behalf of her class. Standing at the podium, she felt a surge of confidence.

"Mesdames et messieurs, aujourd'hui, nous célébrons nos réalisations en tant qu'ingénieurs. Je tiens à remercier ma famille pour leur amour et leur soutien sans faille. Nous sommes tous ici grâce aux sacrifices de ceux qui nous ont précédé. En premier lieu, je tiens à remercier ma famille pour m'avoir soutenue tout au long de ce parcours. Votre amour inconditionnel m'a donné la force de poursuivre mes rêves. Aujourd'hui, je suis fière de dire que j'ai obtenu mon diplôme d'ingénieur avec mention." (Ladies and gentlemen, today we celebrate our achievements as engineers. I would like to thank my family for their unwavering love and support. We are all here because of the sacrifices of those who came before us. First I would like to thank my family for supporting me throughout this journey. Your unconditional love has given me the strength to pursue my dreams. Today, I am proud to say that I have graduated with honors as an engineer)

Her voice resonated through the auditorium, carrying her message of gratitude and determination. She acknowledged the challenges they had overcome and the dreams they now pursued.

"Nous sommes la preuve vivante que peu importe d'où nous venons, nous pouvons atteindre nos objectifs avec passion et détermination. Ne laissez jamais les obstacles vous décourager, et souvenez-vous que vous n'êtes jamais seuls. Aujourd'hui, nous sommes ici ensemble, en tant qu'une famille d'ingénieurs" (We are living proof that no matter where we come from, we can achieve our goals with passion and determination. Never let obstacles get in the way of you, and remember that you are never alone. Today, we are here together, as a family of engineers)

As Y/N concluded her speech, the room erupted into applause. The pride on her family's faces was immeasurable. Y/N had not only graduated with honors, but she had also inspired her peers.

Her family erupted into applause, their cheers blending with the thunderous applause of the crowd. Yn could see familiar faces in the audience, including some F1 drivers who had become friends with the little Leclerc because of Charles such as Max Verstappen, with his signature grin lighting up his face, stood up and clapped enthusiastically, Lando Norris and Pierre Gasly joined in the applause, their support evident.

Yn's heart swelled with gratitude. She had found her place, not on the racetrack but among these incredible individuals who recognized her dedication and achievements.

After the ceremony, the Leclerc family gathered for a joyous celebration. Laughter filled the air as they toasted to Yn's success. The F1 drivers joined in, sharing stories and lighthearted banter.

"Merci d'être toujours là pour moi. Je vous aime tous. (Thank you for always being there for me. I love you all)” yn said raising her glass, and the room was filled with cheers, laughter, and heartfelt conversations.

As the evening wore on, Yn found herself in a quiet corner of the room, reflecting on the day's events. She could feel her father's presence with them, despite his absence. He had instilled in them the values of love, unity, and unwavering support.

Charles approached Yn, a soft smile gracing his face. "You did it, Yn. Dad would have been so proud."

Yn nodded, tears of happiness brimming in her eyes. "I know, Charles. Today, I felt his love surrounding us."

The Leclerc siblings shared a warm embrace, a moment of connection and understanding that surpassed words. In that moment, they knew that their father's spirit lived on within each of them, binding them together through their shared experiences and unwavering support.

And so, the Leclerc family celebrated into the night, cherishing the triumphs, overcoming the challenges, and reaffirming their unbreakable bond. Together, they stood as a testament to the power of love, support, and the pursuit of dreams.

[demensrage]

"i didn't believe in love at first sight until i saw you" ⚊ kaeya x fem!reader

summary: serving mondstadt had always been one of his priorities, love was never one of them. watching hopeless romantics talk about their other halves seemed absurd to him, that is, until he met you.

note: english is not my first lenguage, sorry for the grammatical mistakes ꩜.ᐟ

word count: 2k. Enjoy it!

First meeting, both connected by duty.

The day could not have been worse. for him, it is important to take care of Mondstandt, but sometimes he just wants to rest. He doesn’t remember the last time he was able to sleep without someone interrupting his dreams.

He was walking slowly, while his mind was in a place far from the earth, until he felt several objects collide against him, bringing his thoughts back to solid ground.

He quickly turned his eyes to the floor, where he saw a girl desperately picking up books. That was when he first believed in love at first sight. While helping you gather the books, and as you mumbled words he couldn’t understand, his heart threatened to leap out of his chest. He had never felt so nervous around anyone before; you were clearly the exception.

"I’m so sorry, it wasn’t my intention to bump into you. lately, I’ve been very distracted by all the accumulated work," you said. at that moment, your gaze met his—those beautiful blue eyes with a special glow that you couldn't quite decipher.

You were a foreigner, a scholar from Sumeru. you had recently arrived in mondstandt to study the dried leaves of ley lines. You needed to determine if there was any difference between those from your land and those from other territories. Your future graduation depended on it.

He took a quick look at you, a few inches shorter than him, caramel skin and pretty curls as black as the night itself that fell over your shoulders, as well as beautiful brown eyes. He wanted to run his fingers through your locks, maybe play with them a little, follow the shape of each strand of hair just for his own satisfaction.

“No problem, after all, accidents happen. Do you need help with that?” he said, with all the self-control his mind could muster just to be by your side.

Everyone notices it, except you.

Things escalated quickly between the two of you. It was easy for him to be by your side and work to earn your trust. He just had to be himself, protect you, and help you with your thesis.

He spent long nights helping you, even though he wasn’t a specialist in biology. Still, he made attempts to assist with the writing, and though it may not seem like it, he had a skillful writing style—perhaps from helping Jean too. but that was enough to make you happy.

But he no longer asked to be by your side just with the excuse of helping you—not at all. It became a basic need to want to be around you. Physical contact became natural between the two of you, and it was common for him to escalate from walking together to holding your hand.

“We should visit that little restaurant they opened the other week,” he proposed, his fingers intertwined with yours, his thumb making small caresses on your hand. “Sure, if you’re available tonight.”

The indiscreet glances of the people around you confirmed what you preferred to deny, but everyone saw two lovers instead of two friends.

"I was just thinking of inviting you to dinner tonight!" you exclaimed excitedly. and that was fine, for you it was.

It wouldn’t be the first time you’d gone out together, much less to dinner. Although you’ve both been lucky enough to try each other’s cooking, your jobs don’t allow you to spend much time in the kitchen.

For Kaeya, spending time together was enough to brighten his heart. Every morning, he looked forward to seeing you again, and if he had a little free time, he’d make his way to the place he knew he’d always find you, the library.

That night wouldn’t be any different from the others, he thought. But after five long months, something was about to change. When he picked you up, it was hard for him to hide the red that filled his cheeks. He was enchanted by the sight of you; you were beautiful in his eyes, and that was all that mattered.

His eyes sparkled again in the same way they did when you first met. and you smiled at him with love, because that night, while you were getting ready, you felt nervous—wanting to look good for the man who had started to make your heart beat strongly, for the same man with whom you had the pleasure of resting in his arms on stormy nights, or simply because you wanted to be there, held by him.

The first kiss was the most beautiful thing.

It was a rainy day; however, you two had a good time at home. your stomach hurt from laughing so much at kaeya’s jokes, while you tried to finish arranging the living room so you both could enjoy watching something while he prepared the popcorn.

But the rain had other plans for you. in the dark, with only the light of the lightning illuminating the room, you looked outside while eating the snack for the little marathon you had planned at home.

He was curled up against you, both of you sheltered by the soft blanket. His warm body gave you a sense of peace and security, and his hands slowly ran through your hair as you turned your face to look at him.

Your eyes met, and time seemed to stop in that instant. It was just the two of you, and no one else. as always, he gave you those sweet smiles he reserved exclusively for you. One of his free hands moved to your cheek, caressing it with his thumb. It was inevitable not to take his hand and kiss the inside of it.

You smiled at him with the same love he had shown you. The fruits of quality time, support, and growing closeness were enough to unite you both. And as he looked into your eyes, his gaze couldn’t help but linger on your lips.

He wondered if they felt as soft as they looked, if he should kiss you, and express his love in a much more intimate way.

His heart raced as he gently cupped your face with both hands, his thumbs tracing small circles on your cheeks. The closeness of your bodies, the warmth of his touch, and the gentle rhythm of your breaths created a cocoon of intimacy around you both.

With a tender smile, he leaned in slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. You could feel the gentle pressure of his lips against yours before they met in a sweet, lingering kiss. It was a kiss filled with love and tenderness, a soft caress that spoke volumes more than words ever could.

The world outside seemed to vanish as you lost yourselves in the kiss, your hearts beating in unison. It was a kiss that left you both breathless, a beautiful moment of connection that felt both exhilarating and comforting. as you pulled away, his eyes held yours with a promise of more moments like this, a silent vow of deepening affection.

He fell first and harder.

Things started to be different between the two of you after that night. Without words, you both knew something had changed, even if neither of you wanted to put a label on it. The relationship became more intimate, closer, as if the days between the two of you now revolved around a connection you couldn't ignore.

He had fallen first, and he had fallen hard. Slowly, your things began to appear in his house. A piece of clothing of yours on his chair, your books on his table, and before you knew it, spending time with him had become the most natural thing in the world. More than just an occasional visit, it was like you were weaving your life into his.

Mornings began with the aroma of the coffee he made, while you settled into his arms, enjoying the warmth of his body. Everything seemed simple, fluid, as if it had always been meant to be that way.

Sometimes you caught him looking at you, with that charming half smile you knew so well. But now his eyes said something else, something you had never seen in them before: a deep affection, a love that didn't need words to be understood.

Even though you never spoke openly about what you shared, you both knew it wasn't just a friendship anymore. What he felt for you went beyond that, and he showed it in every gesture, in every look, in every time his fingers absentmindedly played with a lock of your hair. He had fallen for you, faster and harder than he probably had planned. And even though he didn't say it out loud, he made it evident every day.

As time went by, it became more apparent that he had fallen first, and that in his case, there was no turning back. Every time he looked at you, his gaze was not only filled with affection, but with a deep need to be by your side. The small moments—a brush of hands, a shared laugh, a midnight conversation—were more than that to him; they were confirmation that what he felt was not fleeting.

But what disconcerted him most was how easily you had become his world. Without realizing it, his life revolved around you. It was no longer just about helping with your work or enjoying your company, but about needing you, longing for the days they spent together, and feeling an emptiness when you weren't around. When he slept, he would wake up looking for you by his side, and when you were far away, his mind would be filled with you.

However, he never puts pressure on you. He knew that not everyone falls at the same time or in the same way. You wanted him too, he felt that every time your fingers intertwined with his, or when you sought his embrace after a long day. But while he had completely surrendered to what he felt, he knew that maybe you still needed to take that last step. And he was willing to wait.

You tell him I love you for the first time.

That morning, as you both lay wrapped in each other's arms, the soft breeze slipped through the white curtains and the dawn illuminated the room with a gentle warmth. The world outside seemed to be on pause, as if it were just the two of you, breathing in sync, sharing a comfortable silence filled with meaning. The first rays of sunlight drew golden lines across Kaeya's skin, who rested peacefully beside you, a barely noticeable smile on his lips, as if he were thinking of you even in his dreams.

You, however, could no longer sleep. Your heart was beating faster than usual, and it wasn’t just because of his physical closeness. Something inside you had changed, something you'd felt for a long time but hadn’t found the courage to express until that moment. You watched him as he slept, his lashes lightly brushing his cheekbones, his breathing calm and deep, and you couldn’t help but feel a whirlwind of emotions filling your chest. The certainty of what you felt became so strong that you could no longer keep it inside.

Sliding your fingers gently along his arm, you felt Kaeya stir a little, still with his eyes closed but more aware of your touch. The moment seemed perfect, and even though your throat was dry and your thoughts raced in every direction, you knew there was no turning back. You loved him. You had loved him all along, and he deserved to know. He deserved to hear the words that had been trapped inside you, waiting to come to light.

"Kaeya..." you whispered, your voice barely a murmur, unsure if he was awake. Slowly, his blue eyes opened and looked at you, drowsy yet curious, noticing something different in your expression. "Is everything alright?" he asked in that soft tone, with that tenderness he only showed to you. The brightness in his eyes gave you all the courage you needed.

Taking a deep breath, you felt the warmth in your chest. "I love you," you finally said, the words spilling out with an honesty that made you feel lighter, freed. You realized that no matter how he reacted, you needed to say it, you needed him to know. "I love you, Kaeya. I have for a long time... and I just couldn’t keep it to myself anymore."

For a moment, everything seemed to freeze. Kaeya looked at you, surprised, but with a softness you hadn't seen before in his eyes. His usual smile faded, giving way to something deeper, more genuine. Then, without breaking eye contact, he raised a hand to caress your cheek, his thumb tracing a warm line across your skin.

"I know," he replied softly, as if he too had been waiting for this moment. "I knew before you did." He smiled, resting his forehead against yours. "And I love you too... so much that sometimes I can’t even imagine what my life would be without you."

Silence settled between you again, but this time it wasn’t the previous silence of uncertainty—it was one filled with unspoken promises, with shared feelings that no longer needed words. You moved closer to him, your lips brushing his in a slow kiss, full of affection and mutual love. There, in that room bathed in the light of dawn, the two of you found the peace that only true love could bring.

And as you stayed curled up in his arms, feeling his heartbeat in time with yours, you knew for certain that this wasn’t just a fleeting dream. It was real, it was yours, and there were no more doubts or fears to stop you from moving forward with him.

© 2024 demensrage. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

[honeesucker]

Haunted by a Shadow

Pairing: Shoto Todoroki x Fem!Reader x Dabi

Word Count: 12,976

Content Warnings: Dead Dove (do not eat)! Kidnapping, Non-Con, Dabi burns reader, Unhinged Brother™ Touya, sexual torture, vaginal and anal penetration / double-penetration (body & objects), drug use (on reader), mentions of blood, use of phone for sexual photos/video, (to be safe) mentions of incest (Dabi calls you ‘basically family’, refers to himself as ‘brother’ and you as ‘little sister’), reader peeing on themself, reader has to ingest a non-edible item, no happy ending.

*Not proofread.

Shoto couldn’t stop glancing over at you as the snowflakes danced down from the darkening sky and landed on your hair, your jacket, your face. He wanted to kiss away the little cold specks but knew better than to be so bold, so quickly. His whole body buzzed with new feelings, never having really thought about romantic connections beyond what he’s observed in others, it was just never something he considered for himself even after graduating from UA where more and more of his friends began to seek out partners. 

You, however, caught his attention by literally running into him at Endeavor’s agency. It happened just outside of the cafeteria where a gorgeous courtyard was centered, flowers, trees and shrubbery hiding various benches and picnic tables for staff to take a break from the office out in a natural space away from the harsh lighting and non-stop buzz of agency work. You had been wearing a comfortably loose silken black dress that was cinched in at the waist, and for a moment you glanced down at your phone the exact second Shoto had turned the corner around a column in the courtyard causing you to drop your phone, spill hot coffee between the both of you, and trip in the excitement landing atop the Pro Hero heir. Your eyes had widened as large as the moon, bright and shiny, panicked, Shoto had noted; but he fell for you all the same in that instant, assured you that it was only an accident and that he insisted on taking you out shopping to replace the dress.

That was three weeks ago, and now you were walking home with him to meet his siblings and have dinner. The sun had almost fully set behind the horizon and the gentle fall of snow was all that surrounded you and you walked nearly hand-in-hand with Shoto, your fingers grazing each other little by little as your hands swung closely. He was soon ripped from his thoughts by your hand, warm and soft, clasping his. His cheeks instantly heated up, tips of his ears burning hot beneath his knitted cap as he turned away from you quickly, coughing into his other hand as you swung your hands between the both of you.

“This is so nice, Sho!” You mused aloud, watching with twinkling eyes the snow falling around the neighborhood, the light from the moon and the streetlamps shimmering back as you glanced at him with a huge smile on your face.

Shoto hadn’t explicitly asked you to be his girlfriend yet, though any who watched you two over the past few weeks would definitely say you were already together in all ways but the label. Shoto had a plan to ask you tonight but the way his body buzzed and bounced with anxiety he wasn’t sure he’d have the courage just yet, but he resolved to do his best to end this night with you officially together. He couldn’t wait - he had asked Fuyumi to make whatever she deemed best for dinner though he did mention you didn’t particularly like seafood of any sort. When you both finally turned the corner, still hand-in-hand, you were taken aback by the large, traditional style house you saw.

“Wow,” you breathed out, “Shoto your house is amazing!” Shoto’s chest puffed up with pride that you were praising anything related to him. Though he’d rather not be under the same roof as his father - he was still happy to share space with his brother and sister. 

“Thank you,” Shoto finally said, leading you up the stone pathway to his front door. You both took off your shoes, coats and hats while you stepped inside the genkan. Sitting down on a bench briefly to unlace your boots, Shoto opened a small cabinet and produce a new-looking pair of grey slippers for you. You smiled as you thanked him, slipping into the house slippers and following behind him as he led you deeper into his home. Soon enough the smell of delicious food hit your nose, and you couldn’t stop your mouth from instantly salivating. Shoto and you turned a corner that led to an open room with the similarly traditional look of the rest of the house - tatami mats, and shoji doors with a sleek, slate gray interior and minimal decorating; mostly just a couple of family portraits, some flowers in a vase and some old looking traditional art pieces. In the center of the room there was a long chabudai table with cushions for seating, namely, to fit the large family he was a part of, but he had assured you it would only be you and his siblings tonight. Your anxiety had lessened knowing you wouldn’t be subject to Endeavor’s hard gaze, or even more blunt line of questioning. The table was already set with dishes, a couple bottles of sake, as well as glasses, chopsticks and spoons. Shoto had directed you to sit down and get comfortable and he would check in on his sister in the kitchen. 

“Wow,” you had whispered out in a long breath, taking in the room around you. You wondered what it was like growing up here for Shoto - though you had an idea of some of what he endured. You swallowed hard, remembering the broadcast made by the estranged Todoroki brother, the eldest - Touya. He had laid out the abuse and neglect he faced at the hands of Endeavor, and while the word of a villain couldn’t always be trusted - Shoto had given you more of a look into his life that made the knot in your throat only grow bigger. 

Your brief train of thought was interrupted soon by Shoto reentering the room with a tray of two rice bowls, placing one on each side of the table, followed by some smaller side dishes of various pickled vegetables, katsudon and various tempura vegetables. Soon Fuyumi was fussing over you, getting you a glass of water to start and helping to serve you as Shoto sat down next to you, and soon Shoto’s older brother Natsuo entered as well, following his nose to the table and awaiting food.

The introduction felt easy, eating and drinking (Natsuo opened the sake first and poured the round for everyone) became more and more comfortable as the night progressed and soon you were laughing and leaning on Shoto as he mindlessly picked up tempura vegetables and fed you between you telling stories and listening to Natsuo’s bad jokes. Shoto could see from the corner of his eyes how Fuyumi was watching the two of you, the fondest smile on her face as she gave an almost unnoticeable nod to Shoto. Shoto was on cloud nine, never imagining the night to end up this good, but then again things had always come easy between you two.

Soon enough Natsuo retreated back to his room, Fuyumi insisted the cleaning be left to her and she hurried you and Shoto out of the dining room, and Shoto grew bolder as he took you by the hand and led you outside to go for a walk. He even wrapped you up in his own coat, which you took happily, bringing it up to your face to blow warm air in, and snuggle into the familiar, clean scent you’ve come to love. After walking for a bit, you and Shoto stopped in the center of a beautiful garden lit up by twinkling fairy lights, small like little fireflies as he led you to a bench seated just beneath a Sakura tree, and nearest to an expansive koi pond whose bridge you walked over to reach where you were now seated. 

“[Name]...” Shoto’s voice suddenly breaking the silence of the moment shook you out of your thoughts as you glanced over at the man you’ve come to adore. Admiring the way his eyes seemed to always look like they were seeing into you rather than just seeing you on the outside.

“Yes, Sho?” You managed out, tongue heavy with your sudden nerves.

“I’ve wanted to ask you for a while now but,” Shoto started, almost backing out but he resigned himself to this moment, no matter how it turned out. “I wanted to ask you to be my girlfriend, officially, if you want to of course - you can absolutely say n-” Shoto’s rambling was cut off by you. More accurately, your lips silence his rambling as they pressed against his. They were softer than you imagined, cold to the touch in the chilly night air but soon the warmth took over as he deepened the kiss with you. “W-was that a yes or-” You planted another quick, silencing kiss on Shoto and his sweetly oblivious nature as you laughed.

“Yes, Shoto - I would absolutely love to be your girlfriend.” He pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you as he nestled your head beneath his chin. His cheeks were heating up as a furious blush overtook his face, and he bit his lip to keep from screaming out. 

You were his. Finally!

Unfortunately for you both, an uninvited guest was overlooking the sweet moment shared between Shoto and you, and it was only going to get worse from there.

Dabi was feeling - well, how was he feeling? This emotion in his chest wasn’t new to him but he couldn’t quite place it. He almost couldn’t remember when he last felt it until it all hit him at once as he watched Shoto kissing you.

Jealousy.

Bearing witness as Shoto stumbled over what must be his first romantic confession, sweetly asking you to be his girlfriend, and you saying yes. He didn’t know why this set off an angry black fire within his body, but it did, and it was burning its way down to his palms where sparks of blue were already starting. Dabi clenched his fists, extinguishing his quirk as quickly as it sparked up. He needed to wait for the perfect moment to strike. Burning you and Shoto up in a quick blaze just wouldn’t give him the satisfaction he was looking for, not even close - but as he waited, watched as you and Shoto shared a goodbye; watched as Shoto insisted on walking you home but you told him you’d be fine and for him to stay... Dabi could swear he was receiving divine karma for his old man’s transgressions, his mind running a mile a minute with the possibilities of what he could do surfacing to his mind as the perfect opportunity he couldn’t have ever anticipated showed up right in front of him in the form of you walking away from his childhood home alone.

Dabi couldn’t help the way his tongue darted out at the sight of you calmly walking down the sidewalk away from him - couldn’t help imagining just how perfect this night was going to be once he got his hands on you.

The walk back to your apartment took about an hour. You had considered taking the bus, but your body was full of too much adrenaline to actually calm down. Heart was fully, and fluttering with the renewed feelings for Shoto, and how sweetly the night with him went - you really couldn’t have asked for anything more.

Well, maybe a better sense of self-preservation. 

Dabi couldn’t help but feel amused at your blissful march back to your apartment with no sense of caution, no thought that anyone would be watching you, following you... but he was. He was watching you as you walked the familiar streets of downtown Musutafu. Watched as you passed dark alley after dark alley, so many easy places he could slip in to and snatch you up to drag you back to the building he was currently staying in - and then... and then? Well, his imagination was running wild at all of the possibilities. His chest was still burning with the jealousy of seeing his younger brother - the golden child of his family - being happy and getting to experience things he never had a chance to; even worse he was attempting to live normally even after his streaming confession across all of Japan? Fuck that. He wanted to ruin that for Shoto, so that meant ruining you and all that you symbolized. It wasn’t ten more minutes when you finally jogged up the steps of a nice-looking apartment building, nothing so fancy you had a doorman or real security but definitely not the slums. He watched from further back through the glass front doors as you checked your mail, grabbing a few envelopes from the slot before locking it back up and making your way toward the elevator. That’s when Dabi decided to enter your building, and watched the numbers count up and up until it landed on the twelfth floor. He walked back outside and stood across the street, watching with bated breath as he waited for one of the many dark windows to light up on the twelfth floor. He didn’t have to wait long as he saw the third from the far right light up - easy enough. 

You locked the door behind you as you entered your apartment and switched on your lights, setting your keys and purse down and taking off your coat and shoes before slipping into your own house slippers, cheeks burning up at the memory of how Shoto got your own pair at his house now, too. You walked further into your apartment, turning on your electric kettle to make some tea before bed, and leaving it to heat up as you freshened up for the night - shower, nighttime skincare, and comfy sleep clothes - a ratty old All Might tank and soft, cheeky sleep shorts. You heard the alarm beeping that alerted you to your hot water being done, and when you rounded the corner out of your room looking out into your living room and kitchen your blood ran cold as your feet froze to the floor where you stood, one hand gripping the threshold tightly.

Someone was stood in your kitchen, having just pressed the kettle power button. The steam was spilling out of the top as the hissing whistle sound died down, the person still with their back to you but you noticed they were quite tall with a black hood pulled down over their face as they looked over their shoulder at where you stood, watching, waiting.

“W-Who are you,” you questioned quietly before swallowing your nerves and straightening up, “who are you and what are you doing in my apartment? Get the fuck out no-” your voice fell away as the figure turned fully, pulling their hood down with one hand as a wide, horrific smile appeared on the familiar face.

“Awe, c’mon little sister! That isn’t a way to greet your boyfriend's older brother now, is it?” Dabi... or Touya... Dabi stood in your kitchen’s white light. Hood pulled down to reveal the dyed black hair, and terrifying glacial eyes as they took you in, up and down your body until it made you feel sick, when they traveled up to meet your gaze again, smile stretching the scarred skin wide in such an unnatural way. 

Ping!

You had promised Shoto that you would text him when you got back to your apartment safely, you had meant to do so when you sat down with your tea after you cleaned up, but that didn’t seem like it was going to happen now. Your fingers itched with the urge to run for your phone - if you could get a call started to Shoto you know he would respond faster than the police could, but with Dabi watching you like a cat with a cornered mouse you weren’t so sure it was the smartest move to make currently. 

Ping!

Another text, that confirmed for you that it was Shoto checking in on you - no one else would be texting you this late. Dabi’s smile grew wide as he watched your thoughts race through your head, watched as you instinctively leaned toward the sound of your phone, watched as your fingers gripped and released the threshold still holding you up as your panicked eyes darted around your apartment.

“Now doll, I don’t have all day,” Dabi finally broke the long silence, taking a couple of steps forward that had your hand releasing the doorway and stumbling back against the wall behind you. 

“Dabi,” your voice was as threatening as you could make it - which wasn’t much in the face of a notoriously dangerous villain. “Why are you in my apartment?”

“Don’t be like that,” Dabi took two more steps toward you, “no need for formalities, you know my name, don’t you? With the way little Shoto looks at you I’d say we’re on the quick path to being in-laws hm? Call me Touya.” It was at that moment a third text came in, rattling away as your phone vibrated in your purse atop the small table in your entryway. Dabi had turned his attention away from you for a second that gave you enough bravery to bolt for your room. To find and grab anything that could be a weapon, to get your door shut and locked, to jump out your window... anything.

The second your body moved, you scrambled like a rabbit swift and strong as you tried to push your door completely shut but Dabi was right behind you, wedging his boot to stop it from closing completely. When that failed you scrambled to your dresser where various objects were, but none seemed sturdy enough to take him out. It was in one of the moments your hands were scrambling for anything to turn around and hit him across the head with, that he grabbed you, pulling your arms behind your back and slamming you forward onto your bed. You struggled against his grip as he pressed his front almost completely onto you, lowering his weight to pin you down further. “K-Keep struggling,” he ground out, huffing as you continued to wiggle and try to free yourself from him, “it gives me a fucking hard on feeling you struggle like this.”

Everything stopped.

Your struggling, your screaming, all fight drained out of you at that revelation. 

“Get the fuck off of me, Dabi,” you growled out, shifting your body to try and wiggle free again. “Shoto is going to come looking for me when I don’t answer his texts!” 

“Oh,” Dabi was laughing now, the deep chuckle reverberating against your back. “I’m counting on that.”

You felt a sharp prick into your neck as the world around you blurred and blackened, whatever was in that needle sending you into a syrupy sleep as if your blood and the air you were breathing in thickened to suffocate you.

You woke up in more pain than you’ve ever experienced before in your life. Your head was pounding, your abdomen was in indescribable pain, and it hurt to move your body even an inch. Tears burned your eyes as you tried to open them, blinking away the sleep trying to get your vision to focus.

“Sleeping Beauty is finally awake,” a familiar voice came from the darkness, startling you until a bright, blinding light was turned on. Your eyes shut again at the bright assault. “Sorry for the inhospitality so far, I couldn’t control myself earlier and took some frustration out on you while you slept.” Dabi was looking over at you with a shit-eating grin on his face, mimicking kicks as his heavy boots scuffed the ground and thudded against the wall. You never had any broken bones before, but this surely had to be what a broken rib felt like. “Wish I had pain killers to spare but the few I get my hands on, I need for myself,” Dabi stepped closer to you bound on the floor of a simple-looking room before rearing his right foot back to bring another harsh kick to your stomach; you cried out, fresh tears spilling from your eyes as the burning spread out from the point of impact. 

“P-please,” you managed out between choked gasps of air, “please stop, Dabi.”

“Didn’t I already tell you, doll?” 

Kick. 

“We’re practically family now!” 

Kick. 

“Call me Touya.” 

Kick.

“Tou-Touya please,” you pleaded with the villain again. “Please stop. Tell me what you want, what I can do, I can help yo-” another kick hitting your shoulder this time with a sickening impact.

“What I want,” Dabi mused, his deep voice trailing off as he circled around you like a vulture to a carcass. “What I want is to hurt Endeavor, which can be achieved by hurting Shoto... which is achieved through hurting you. I want to take away everything I never got the chance to have, from him, and keep it for myself,” Dabi was kneeling now, scarred hand reaching down to push some of your hair from your bloodied face, pieces sticking to your skin from where the blood dried. “And you can help me by being a good little slut for your new brother,” Dabi lifted up your limp body from the floor to bring you over to a worn-out mattress, stained with Gods-know-what and a few rusted-looking springs poking out in places as you cried and tried to struggle, as weak as the attempt was with all of your strength zapped.

What was left of your ragged pajamas was removed from your body, skin prickling with goosebumps as the icy air in the room wafted over your exposed skin. Dabi’s hand shot back to your now-exposed chest, gripping and twisting your breasts painfully, forefinger and thumb coming up to grip your nipple and twist, pull, anything he could do to get you to scream again - and scream you did at each cruel ministration. It was when he was cupping the plush flesh of your breasts, scarred hands pushing them up from underneath that a blood-curdling scream as Dabi’s hands heated up to an ultra-hot temperature, branding your flesh with his palmprints. You felt queasy as you heard the sizzle of your skin and smelt the strangely charcoal smell as it burnt. The laughter you heard above you felt amplified as your senses went on high alert. “That was way too fun,” Dabi nearly moaned out, pressing his palms back into where he burnt you as you flinched away from the contact, slipping onto the bed as he straddled your legs, pinning you own further. He leaned in to first take your left nipple in his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue around the pert bud before biting down with considerable force, causing you to cry out once more; he mimicked his actions on your right nipple before licking and sucking up the column of your throat before he assaulted the area with deep bruised hickeys and some less-than-sexy, more like zombie, bites to the delicate skin. 

The pain was making it hard for you to focus on anything else, like the feeling of Dabi shifting above you as he undid his belt, took off his jacket, his t-shirt, removed his jeans, kicked off his shoes and finally slipped out of his boxer briefs where his long, slender cock slapping up against his abdomen as it leaked a pearly bead of pre-cum, the silken, translucent substance slipping down his cockhead as he began to touch himself. He was watching you with predatory eyes, the lazy stoking of his hand up and down his length only serving to harden him more as he ached to be inside of you, and as he lent forward, shoving your legs apart with his own, you cried out as he thrusted forward, and in one swift motion he seated himself fully within your warmth, heavy balls slapping against your ass as the tension from his unprepped entry left your cunt burning, even worse as he spit barely enough to wet his cock down upon where your bodies joined together as he drug his cock out slowly, only for him to slam his hips forward with enough force it jostled you up the bed until your head hit the metal bars of the bedframe.

Dabi began a relentless assault on your pussy as his thrusts became more violent, shaking your whole body with the force as the friction continued to burn. Your body was trying to spare you the pain as it began to lubricate itself with the stimulation, but even in conjunction with Dabi’s spit, and the blood from what definitely felt like a friction tear, it wasn’t nearly enough to save you from it all. Dabi began laughing as his entry into your core was becoming easier, his ruthless thrusts gliding in and out. “Gettin’ all excited for me, huh doll?” Dabi lifted your legs, throwing one over his shoulder and pinning the other one down nearly folding you in half as he chased his own release, hips stuttering as he moaned lowly, whispering a shaky f-fuck under his breath as he pushed his hips forward, spongy cockhead pressing against the deepest point in you with an aching pressure before you felt the hot spurting of him cumming inside of you. You cried harder, hands weakly trying to push him from you but the pain and shock you were in made it hard to really gain an advantage over the man on top of you. 

You felt sick to your stomach as you clenched your eyes shut, feeling as Dabi’s cock stayed seated within you before he began to drag it out agonizingly slow, but not before you heard the shutter sound from a camera. Your eyes shot open, wide in horror as you saw Dabi holding a phone pointed down where your bodies were connected, and the sick feeling only increased when you realized it was your phone. 

Something was off. 

Shoto couldn’t quite settle the uneasy feeling he felt, but when you didn’t text him within an hour, he began to worry so he shot you a quick text.

(Photo description: Fake text message screen, Y/N with a Sakura flower emoji top contact name, Shoto sent four texts which read as follow: “Hey Y/N, just making sure you made it home safely. Thank you for coming over tonight. // Y/N? Is everything okay? // Y/N please answer me, I just want to know you’re okay. // I already called your Mom. I’m coming over.”)

It only took Shoto about fifteen minutes to drive to your apartment, but to be fair he definitely didn’t go the speed limit. He had driven you home a couple of times from work and picked you up for a couple of lunch dates since you had first met so every path to your home was ingrained in him. He parked, and when he began his walk up to the lobby doors he noticed the lights in your apartment were on. Hope and dread wrestled for dominance within him as he tried to think of a reason you didn’t answer his texts. 

Did you just forget? 

Were you busy with something and he overreacted? 

Did you not enjoy tonight as much as it seemed and wanted to distance yourself?

The last one worried Shoto, but he knew how genuine you were, knew that if you didn’t enjoy yourself, it would have been written all over your face. He also knew you would have let him down gently when he asked you to be his girlfriend, sparing his feelings but being honest about yours. It wasn’t like you to lie for someone else’s benefit. Shoto couldn’t stop his body from fidgeting as he waited for the elevator to rise to your floor, pushing the button a couple more times than necessary which made him feel better. When he got to your floor and walked the short distance to your apartment door, he tried to think of something to say to you about his texts if you hadn’t seen them yet. That he was sorry for showing up and bothering you, but he had to know you were okay.

Shoto gave a couple of knocks, but on the third knock your door pushed open a few inches. That set his whole body on high alert because you never left your door unlocked, even when you were just running down the hall to give or get something from your neighbor - he made a joke about it to you once and you said you did it out of habit, afraid the one time you didn’t someone would sneak in. He couldn’t disagree with you there, having a few years under his belt as working hero and a child of Japan’s current number one left him with a clearer understanding of the world and how bad things can happen so suddenly out of nowhere.

He never joked about it with you again, just praised you for your forethought.

Shoto stepped inside to see your purse sitting on your entryway table. Your coat and hat you wore tonight were hung on hooks on the opposite wall as he called your name out into your apartment but was met with complete silence. He saw the shoes you wore tonight knocked over like you either took them off in a hurry or tripped over them on the way back out your apartment. Shoto didn’t take his off as he stepped up further into your apartment and took in the state of things. Your living room wasn’t necessarily messy, but Shoto had gotten to know your habits over the last few weeks with you, knowing that you wouldn’t leave things this way. Your electric kettle was out, a cup with a teabag untouched on the counter; Shoto walked over to press his fingertips to the kettle to notice it was barely above room temperature having sat untouched for too long now. 

“[Name]?” Shoto called out again into the silent apartment, only the echo of his voice coming back to him. Shoto walked toward your bathroom where he saw the light on and could smell the fresh scent of your shampoo that he became familiar with. A favorite scent and he loved to press his nose against the crown of your head when you hugged him, pressing a soft kiss there as he memorized the way you smelt and felt against him. Shoto shook his head, shaking the memory out with it as he pushed open the bathroom door. “[Name]? Are you in here?” Shoto couldn’t hear the water running so he didn’t want to run the risk of walking in on you in any state of undress or startle you as he pushed the door completely open. 

Things were in the bathroom left like you had just wrapped up a shower, a dampness still hung in the air but no steam remained in the air. Shoto turned and moved to your bedroom, a place he had been only once when you invited him over and you both ended up curled up together as you fell asleep watching a movie. He walked through the threshold of the open door, and the sight is what made his blood run cold. His eyes were trained to pick up on certain things, and this room was screaming signs of a struggle everywhere Shoto’s eyes landed. He saw your house slippers on opposite sides of the room, things were knocked off your dresser and vanity, a couple of noted heavier objects were thrown to the floor, presumably when you tried to use them as a weapon... or they were used against you.

Shoto swallowed the hard lump down in his throat, panic swelling in his chest as he took photos on his phone of the whole apartment as it was, he called your mom and informed her of what he believed to have happened - informed her to call the police but let them know that he would be working on this as well, and to contact his father. Shoto’s fingers swiped a quick couple of times before holding the phone to his ear.

“Shoto,” Endeavor’s deep baritone could be heard on the other end, “is everything alright?” After the recent events, and Endeavor’s new journey into being a less shitty person he was more worried when his children reached out, as they rarely did so before except for Fuyumi. 

“Dad,” Shoto was barely conscious of him using that term, but Endeavor shot up where he was seated, already hurrying out of the agency at his son’s use of the term. 

Something was wrong.

A message notification pinged on Shoto’s phone; he could hear Endeavor’s voice shouting on the other end as he pulled it away from his ear to see your name pop up on the notifications up top. He hurriedly pulled it up to see a video attachment, and wondered why you would send a video instead of replying to his texts and letting him know you were okay. He opened the attachment and wasn’t sure what he was looking at, at first, and then his breath caught in his throat, feeling like he was drained of all blood as he ran cold at what he was looking at. He could see your face, albeit bloodied and streaked with dirt and tears, you were completely naked, and he could see what looked like bruises or dirt at first, when a hand came into the view of the camera that he recognized. Long, slender fingers of pale porcelain that cut off into necrotic skin, the gleam of the staples an all too telling sight.

Dabi.

Touya-nii.

He recognized the marks on your chest as handprints now, handprints that were burned into your flesh. He watched with wide, horrified eyes as the camera panned down as the hand trailed your body, Shoto watching as you tried feebly to flinch away from the touch. Watched as the shot ended with the sight of a cock buried within you, a pinkish mixture of blood and cum staining your thighs. Shoto could hear your cries, see your body convulse with the sobbing as he heard a familiar voice cut in

“I hope you don’t mind, little brother,” Dabi’s familiar drawl came over the audio as Shoto watched on, sick to his stomach as he saw Dabi’s hips begin to push forward and pull back as his cock slid in and out of you, streaks of red and sticky, translucent slick and white mixing along the length and at the base of his cock as he did so. “I wanted to keep it all in the family, y’know? Our little sister here, she’s a little weak in my opinion, you deserve someone who matches your strength don’t you think?” A slap could be heard as your cracked voice shrilled and broke into more sobbing as Shoto heard another loud smack! and he couldn’t swallow down the bile rising in his throat. He threw his phone down and ran to the bathroom where he threw up in the toilet, his body shaking as he could hear you cry out from the video still playing before he heard a See you soon, little brother before the audio went silent. Shoto spit into the toilet before standing up again, flushing and running cold water into his mouth and splashing even more on his face. He heard the phone ringing from your bed, and was frozen until the melodic chime cut off, only to begin again. He was able to drag his feet across the hallway and looked down at the screen where he saw Endeavor’s photo and ID come on the screen. He forgot he had called his father earlier, before receiving that message, and picked up again.

“Shoto! Tell me what’s wrong,” Endeavor sounded panicked although anyone from the outside wouldn’t be able to tell. 

Shoto could. 

“Touy-” Shoto stopped himself, “Dabi.”

“Did you run into him, or the League? Tell me where you are!” Shoto could hear a car start up as he was heading in Shoto’s direction. His father had insisted on enabling location tracking for safety and for once he didn’t disagree.

“No,” Shoto managed to get out, choking on the knot of fear lodged in his throat. “I’m at [Name]’s apartment, I’ll text you the address. I have her mom calling the police as well. Dad,” he drew in a ragged breath, clenching his eyes shut as he tried to calm himself and get the visual of your battered body out of his mind. “Dabi took her, and he’s...” Shoto couldn’t hear what else Endeavor said, but it wasn’t long before the police arrived, and Endeavor shortly after. Shoto sent over the initial photos he took of the apartment, and his father and the lead detective watched the video with hard faces, the disgust and discomfort evident in their expressions. Shoto was seated on your bed after the investigators were done collecting any evidence they could find, holding a small puppy plushie he got for you from a claw machine on one of your guys’ lunch dates. Endeavor came in the room, seeing his son in such a sorry state knowing it was his own mistakes that led them to this point, but now wasn’t the time to grieve over his wrongdoings, right now his son needed his support. Endeavor placed a large hand on Shoto’s shoulder, a hopefully reassuring gesture.

“The detectives are looking into tracing her phone right now and trying to gather clues from the room the video was shot in,” Endeavor didn’t know how else to offer comfort to his son, so he only gave him the facts as they are in the moment. “They’re going to be conducting interviews in the building around the time you suspected she should’ve arrived home last night, and they want you to forward any further communication you may receive...” Endeavor’s voice trailed off, watching as Shoto flinched at the idea of receiving anything else from his villainous brother.

“Thanks, Endeavor,” Shoto managed out, and it relieved Endeavor a bit to hear him speak. He wanted to be called Dad again, but that was an issue for another time... perhaps another lifetime. 

Shoto remained sat on your bed until the detectives finished up their work, he asked if he would be able to clean up the mess for you and they agreed, the pitiful smile on one of the detectives faces eluding Shoto’s gaze as they all took their supplies with them, and after Endeavor said he would allocate some Pros, sidekicks and other resources to finding you, he left the apartment as well. Shoto began his task of cleaning for you. Fist he gathered all of the things that were out of place and put them back where they belonged, he put away your kettle and teacup, throwing away some trash and wiping down some surfaces to keep his mind off of this whole situation. He felt so helpless, so useless - feeling such foreign emotions left him confused and angry. 

Shoto’s phone pinged again, and he froze. He glanced at the screen to see your name previewed in the notification with a photo attachment. This couldn’t keep happening while he sat around and sulked, he had to do everything he could to find you.

Shoto clicked on the notification, and then pressed your contact before putting the phone to his ear. It rang one, twice, three, four times before the phone picked up. Shoto could make out someone breathing before he heard your ear-piercing scream. “Dabi,” Shoto all but growled out only to be met with an amused chuckle on the other end. “I am going to find you, and I am going to kill you. If you lay another finger on her...!” the line went dead, and two more pings were heard from the device in Shoto’s shaking hand. 

He opened the attachments to see one photo of your bruised and bloodied face, cheeks squished between Dabi’s thumb and pointer finger in a crushing grip, your eyes were teary and red. 

The second photo was a close up of the burns on your chest, soft skin and pebbled nipples in contrast to the marks that littered your skin, bite marks, but the real horror was the blackened, peeling skin blistered and bloodied in the shape of large palm prints in the way they cupped your breasts. 

The sight make Shoto’s stomach turn, swallowing down the acid and bile that rose up into his mouth before opening the third attachment and seeing a scarred hand taking up most of the shot, long fingers spreading your pussy lips to capture the perfect moment a blood-pink-tinged glob of cum was seeping out of you.

Shoto wanted to crush his phone in his hands with the fiery rage that filled his whole body, quirk heating up the left side of his body as his rage grew. He couldn’t break the device, however, because it was his only tie to you. He resolved to go back to his place, happy with how he straightened up the mess that was created - he didn’t want you to come back to any reminders of this time, though the mental scars he knew you were already developing would need support to heal. He wanted to bring you back safely, back to him. 

Shoto left your apartment, locking the door behind him with the key left on your entryway table by your purse. He resolved to give it back to you when you returned safely to him.

You felt drained. Your body was aching everywhere, burning in the places where Dabi paid closer attention to cause extra harm; the bites, the burns, where his unprepped entry left you feeling torn in half as he rammed himself inside of you, three times now that you recalled. Before he exited the room, nearly leaving the room with you simply restrained to his bed, but stopped at the doorway and turned around, a sick, curious smile on his face as he set the phone in his hand down atop a dresser - your phone. 

Your mouth went dry wondering what he was doing with your phone.

Taunting Shoto pretending to be you, or letting him in on it being him behind the screen? Or worse... you thought about the photos and videos he’s taken of you, bile rising in your throat as you imagined Shoto seeing any of it, but your anxious train of thought was interrupted with Dabi’s full attention back on you.

“Can’t just leave you alone while I take care of business, now can I doll?” You tried to watch what he was doing but the pain increased the more you tried to glance and watch him gather some things from around the room. Dabi had undone the bindings keeping you in place on the bed, only to flip you on your stomach and bind your arms behind your back tighter than before, attaching those bindings to a pulley you didn’t know was above his bed as one end of the rope kept you up by your arms and the other... the other you turned your head to watch in abject panic at the sight before you. Dabi was holding a large metal hook, a hook that was thick and curved and at the end where normally a terrifying sharp point would be there was a large, tapered ball. The grin on Dabi’s face was enthralled as he watched you watch him, eyes wide and panicked. Dabi spit on the end of the ball before he pushed your legs apart, spreading your ass cheeks with his hand only to spit there, too, and with one cruel motion he pushed the large ball through the tight ring of resistant muscle as the hook bullied its way into your backside. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, a choked, gargled whimper all that you could manage with your hoarse voice. He attached the other end of the chain attached to your arm bindings to the looped end of the hook, forcing you to balance yourself in a sick stamina game. He wasn’t done, however, as he stroked your cheek with a tenderness he hadn’t yet touched you with, not before wrapping a leather strap around your head attached to a ball gag; only where the typical ball would be to stretch your mouth open there was a large, silicone cock that he shoved into your mouth before you realized what was happening. You gagged and struggled around the intrusion as he secured the clip behind your head and watched as more tears pricked your eyes and the sounds of your choking filled the air. His last parting gift to you was to place a large black box on the bed behind you. You couldn’t bring yourself to turn and see what this contraption was, just listening to the shuffling sounds as Dabi made quick work of whatever it was he was accomplishing behind you until you gagged around the intrusion in your throat in an attempt to force a plea of mercy out of your mouth, with him when you felt a large intrusion breaching your pussy. You heard the click of a button before a whirring, mechanical sound was heard as the object that spread your pussy began to move forward. 

The machine began at a slow pace, fucking a horrendously large appendage into your pussy, the speed picking up to a cruel rhythm as you heard the click of a button at least five times. You were crying again, surprised there was any liquid left in your body to give - you couldn’t even be sure you had enough blood in your veins to survive much longer. Every time you tried to shift your body away from the unforgiving onslaught, you were reminded that the front half of you was holding up the back half as the metal ball-hook stuffed in your ass pulled and caused a greater deal of pain.

“Don’t want you getting lonely while I’m gone,” Dabi lent down to kiss your temple before landing a hard smack to your cheek, patting away the sting with a joyful laugh before leaving you alone in the room with nothing but the sounds of your own torture to be heard. You couldn’t fight your body’s natural reactions, however, as th stimulation continued you felt a tight coil in your lower abdomen building up and before long a strong orgasm washed over you and you thrashed and struggled because the machine wasn’t a man - it wouldn’t slow down and be kind to you, it would only fuck you at the same brutal pace through your orgasm and into another, and another before your vision blurred and you may or may not have lost consciousness a time or two, or seven.

You weren’t sure how long Dabi had left you alone in the room being assaulted by his contraptions, all you knew was at some point the machine made a loud clunking sound and the assault stopped, however it stopped on a thrust in and left the large plastic cock lodged in your pussy. Your poor abused pussy that was pulsating and tingling, numb from the countless penetrations and clinging tightly onto the intruding plastic cock almost painfully. You wanted it out of you. You wanted everything fucking out of you! You had long since gotten used to breathing and swallowing around the silicone cock shoved down your throat and found a safe middle ground to balance between your upper body and the hook penetrating your ass. The pull from the hook was becoming more and more painful, but at least if you kept this posture up it wouldn’t cause you anymore undue pain. Suddenly, you couldn’t help the sob that escaped you as a warm liquid ran down your thighs, spraying lewdly around the cock nestled inside of you. You couldn’t remember if this was the first time you had pissed yourself - unsure if you squirted or peed during some of the more extended orgasm periods in the constant assault you went through, frankly the thought being true one way or another didn’t matter - it just disgusted you. 

The passage of time became untellable to you, there were no windows to give away the time with natural light, no clocks, no devices, nothing. Dabi had been gone for quite a while, though, that you knew. You found yourself wondering where he had gone, and for how long; looking around to see if there was any way to free you of your binds and protect you as you tried to get out of this room - wherever this was. One of the only things keeping you going instead of giving up was knowing that your mom and Shoto would both be looking for you... if they knew you were missing. 

Your emotions ebbed and flowed between hope and anxiety as you tried to reconcile them. Shoto was smart, caring, and attentive; a bit oblivious at times but he wasn’t someone who would let something go.

Something like you telling him you’d text him you were home.

He’s done it before, texted you or called to check in when your approximate time back to your apartment went over, or texting him slipped your mind because something else came up. He always followed up to make sure you were okay - and given the time you’ve been gone he had to know and be looking for you.

He had to know.

Dabi wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave you alone, would he? No, he would definitely leave you alone... but it wasn’t stupidity, it was arrogance. Shoto couldn’t help the incessant bouncing of his leg, couldn’t help the anticipation of seeing if this tip from a member of the public was true. Blue flames were reported just outside of Kiyashi Ward, and some lower villains were reportedly seen lurking around and causing issues. Endeavor and Shoto were on their way to check into report and Shoto couldn’t help but hope to the heavens that it was true.

The train seemed to take forever but it helped that Shoto had other ways of trying to track you down as a way to pass the time better. He refreshed the service map in the hopes a ping from your cellphone would pop up, but so far nothing has shown up. Endeavor watched on as his son focused on the screen in front of him, worry creasing his features as he kept his mouth shut - knowing that nothing could be of comfort, words or otherwise, until Shoto had eyes on you and by the hard-set, murderous looked darkening his face - Dabi’s head on the ground in front of him. As grieved as Endeavor is over the recent revelations of his eldest son he is also hard-pressed to disagree in that regard given Dabi’s numerous crimes. Endeavor’s chest felt heavy, equally guilty for creating this villain, and now this situation that caused pain to his youngest.

Shoto had seen your phone ping on the map earlier, matching up with the time he was sent the additional photos of you, stomach churning at the memory. He swallowed hard, refreshing two more times before slamming his device down against his leg before shoving it back into his pocket. He had notifications on that were attached to an alarm sound if your phone pinged on the map, but he wasn’t one to wait so patiently in a situation like this - he had always counseled his friends on keeping a cool head but he couldn’t even do that himself. Shoto’s gaze was ripped away from the floor of the train to a few miles south of the city where he saw an unmistakable icy blue blaze flash and disappear. Shoto shot up out of his seat, electing to head to the furthest rear car, opening the door as his father called out after him only to hear his name shouted as he jumped off the moving train, landing on a nearby platform with a harsh impact.

“Shoto! That was too reckless, we were almost at the station what were you thin-” Endeavor’s tirade was cut short as Shoto pointed south, and in the distance, Endeavor took note of the same thing his son had seen earlier before his unceremonious jump from the train. “Let’s go,” nothing else needed to be said, Shoto was already running ahead of Endeavor, who was on the phone making a quick call. The heavy thud of the duos footfalls were all that could be heard on the quiet streets, the citizens already warned of a villain in the area and to take shelter. Shoto was thankful for that, not ready to focus on minimizing loss of life, or damage, or worrying over someone trying to stop him or his father for a photo or an autograph not knowing there was an emergency just a few blocks away. He couldn’t afford to stop when you were suffering somewhere, and it was his fault. He loved you so much already, but he is now the sole cause of the torture you’re experiencing now - all because of his fucked up family. How could he ever face you again after this?

“TOOOUUYYA!” Shoto stopped dead at the loud boom of his father’s voice. His eyes scanning around him until he saw a flash of blue and then as the smoke, dust and falling rubble cleared from a building that just took a hit he could see him - see his brother. His blood boiled as his heart sank into his stomach. Shoto could feel the fiery hot burn on his left side, his fingers clenching and unclenching with an ache to punch in his brother’s face until it was unrecognizable.

“Awe, if it isn’t dear ole Dad,” Dabi chuckled, his voice carrying across the distance between them, “and little Shoto tagged along too, hm? I would think you’d be at home touching yourself to the sweet little videos I made for you - [Name]... she has such a tight little-” a roaring blaze of flame shot toward Dabi, causing him to have to jump out of the way last minute, the edges of his coat burning a moment before the wind from his jump snuffed it out.

“Where is she, Dabi!” Shoto was screaming that same sentence over and over, blasting waves of flame and ice toward his elder brother each time he was met with a psychotic laugh, a taunt, or anything that wasn’t your location. Shoto went to turn and face his father, getting ready to shout a plan of attack but saw the Pro was unmoving behind him, hurriedly whisper-shouting into the receiver of his cell and looking up just in time to see Shoto’s fiery disposition as he shouted for assistance.

“Get your head in the fight, Endeavor!” Shoto all but growled out, catching the end of Endeavor’s phone conversation.

“-out of there, now! We’ll handle this!” Endeavor shoved his phone into his pocket, quirk igniting his body as he shot forward into the fight with Shoto - both of them going full-force at the estranged Todoroki son.

A glorious moment of keen-eye clarity had you recalling Dabi leaving your phone on the dresser by the door. Though your vision was blurred you could make out the length of the slim device, the scant hope left in your mind at your phone being turned on, or even charged as you tried to shout out across the room.

Your mind began to wonder at how you could possibly access the device, there was no way for you to try to fruitlessly shout Hey Siri! with the damnable gag in your mouth. A fresh wave of tears pricked at your burning eyes as a sickening thought crossed your mind. The plan forming in your head was bleak at best, but if it worked it would help aide in your rescue - or kill you - either way, an escape. You used your tongue to shift around the silicone cock lodged in your throat, painfully stretching your jaw so you could angle your teeth down, sinking into the pliant material as a chunk of it loosened from the shaft, falling loosely in the space against your cheek. You forced yourself to swallow down the vile plastic, gagging on the resistance it put up. Again, again, and again. Chunk after disgusting chunk until you had taken down enough of the gag to use your tongue to force the rest of it from your mouth, spit and specks of shredded silicone sticking to your chin.

“Hey Siri-” your voice was so hoarse you don’t think your phone’s AI assistant would even catch it if it was on. You swallowed the meager amount of saliva you had collected beneath your tongue, coughing and cleaning the spiderweb feeling in the back of your throat, and swallowing down the knot that was created after your idiotic plan.

Idiotic you thought, but successful.

“Hey Siri!” You managed to force your voice out loud enough, clear enough, that when you heard the soft melodic ding! of your AI assistant lighting up your screen ready for a direction, you wanted to start sobbing all over again. “Call work!”

Ring... ring...

Ring...

“Endeavor Agency, how may I-” you couldn’t waste battery life on niceties.

“P-please,” you managed out loud enough for the receiver to pick up. “Please connect me with Kido!” The secretary sensing the urgency didn’t push for more detail as she managed to connect you through to the phone of one of the sidekicks at Endeavor’s agency you became friends with. You were acquainted with most everyone at the agency, but Shoto introduced you to the Flaming Sidekickers and Kido quickly took to you.

“This is Kido,” the smooth voice came from the other end, you really wanted to just cry at this plan having worked, but there wasn’t time.

“Kido,” you managed out, and it’s all you got out before the hero was shouting away from the receiver that he had you on the phone and you could hear a bunch of screaming all around him.

“[Name]!” Kido’s normally quiet voice booming over the phone and filling up the room with its echoes. “[Name] where the Hell are you? Are you okay? We’ve been trying to reach you for-” 

“Kido please,” you pleaded, “I don’t know how much battery this phone has, I’m not even physically holding it. Please. Can you find my location?” Kido reassured you that they had been waiting for your cellphone to be used so they could further triangulate your location, having it turned on only led them to a large expanse of city where you could have been. “Kido, something else...” your voice trailed off as your weight shifted, causing a painful chain reaction with your aching, bound limbs and the anal hook that was still holding your backend up. “Please bring Moe, please only have her come in and find me. Please.” Kido didn’t push that issue further hearing your voice, only agreeing before saying he had your location and they were on their way to you. He promised they would see you soon, they were only a short distance away. You wanted to stay on the phone with them but didn’t want to risk running the battery down in case you needed it for anything, didn’t want to run the risk of Dabi coming back hearing you calling for help.

You didn’t know how much time had passed, didn’t know if you had passed out or simply zoned out of your mind until you heard shuffling outside of the door. Your whole body tensed up with the possibility of it being Dabi returning from wherever the hell he went, before your colleagues could find you. 

“[Name]?” The familiar voice of Moe came through the door, you could turn your head just enough to see the door being pushed open, and the sight of the flaming-haired girl stepping through, her eyes widening in horror at seeing your predicament before yelling something behind her and slamming the door. “Hold tight, let me help you out of this...” the normally boisterous girl was quiet and focused, hands steady as she traced over you gently, trying to figure out where to start in helping you down. “I’m going to release your arms first, there might be some pain when your body drops but we’ll get the rest out right now, I promise.” Her touch was gentle as she unhooked the chain holding your bound arms, the top half of your body dropping, causing a tug to the anal hook that had you choking on a cry, before Moe continued to comfort you, stating she was going to be removing both the anal hook and the dildo attached to the machine. The pull-out of the objects was almost as agonizing as when they went in. Your pussy was sore, gaping and pulsing around nothing after so long of having been stuffed to the brim. The soft pop of the anal hook coming out gave you both relief and another round of pain - but it was over... this all was going to be over.

Moe then worked on undoing the bindings that held onto the rest of your body until you were stripped bare. Moe rushed around the room, finding suitable clothes in the form of a black t-shirt and black sweatpants. Dabi’s, no doubt. You weren’t going to complain about being in anything that had anything to do with him, you just wanted to be covered and out of this nightmare. 

Moe had called for the others to come in now, and you saw Kido holding a cellphone to his ear, having pulled it away quickly when you heard the booming voice of Endeavor on the other end.

“Get her out of there now! We’ll handle this!” Kido only agreeing quickly before hanging up, looking over at you with relieved eyes. Relief quickly changing to a horrified emotion when his sight darted around the room, at the bindings and sex toys, at the way Moe held you upright with a strength that was supportive but soft enough to not put any undue pressure on you. The way your fingers curled into the clothing you were wearing, holding the fabric away as if you didn’t want it touching you.

“C’mon,” Kido’s voice was a gentle monotone, comforting. “We have an unmarked vehicle waiting to get you to a private rehabilitation center.”

“Shoto-”  you tried to speak out but your throat was tight and dry. “I-is Shoto?”

“He’s okay,” Moe spoke as she lifted you up carefully, but had to set you back down as your legs gave way. “He and Endeavor are currently fighting with Dabi on the other side of the city. They will meet up with us when they wrap up his capture.” Kido stepped forward to pick you up bridal style, maneuvering you out of the room carefully to not knock any part of you on a wall, or threshold. The heroes made their way out of the rundown building, carefully putting you into a blacked-out SUV and tore off away from the building. 

“We’re getting you back home, the drive won’t be too long but please let us know if you’re in too much pain to continue travelling,” Kido was driving, looking back at you in the rearview mirror as Moe held you in her arms.

“I’ll be okay,” you managed out, before succumbing to an uncomfortable sleep.

Beep.

Beep, beep.

Beep.

Your eyelids felt heavy, impossible to open as your consciousness came back to you. The sticky glue of sleep caked in your lashes with tears as you forced them open, burning from the contact with the bright fluorescent light and sterilized air. The gentle beeping of your heart monitor, and the mechanical humming coming from the I.V. fluid machine on a timed drip were the only sounds aside from a gentle breathing to be heard in your room.

Breathing?

You glanced around the large room until your eyes landed on one of the large guest chairs pushed against the wall near the window where a sleeping Shoto was hunched over, head slipping out of his hands as his body gently jolted with his breathing and the myoclonic jerks of his body.

Fresh tears pricked your eyes as you watched him breathe. He was here, in front of you. He was alive, and he was here with you. If he was here with you... Dabi had to be in jail - right?

Your whole body jumped as the sliding door to your room opened, your attention ripping away from Shoto as a doctor trailed by Endeavor and a nurse came into the room. Endeavor’s imposing form filling up the space, menacing in his size even when he wasn’t trying to be imposing. Shoto finally shot up, eyes scanning the intruders until they shot over to you, wet with tears that spilled over onto his cheeks. 

“Miss [last name], glad to see you awake today.” The doctor spoke clinically to you, allowing the nurse to perform a blood pressure check, adjust your I.V. fluids, and assess your body’s physical condition. “You underwent a minor surgery to remove some foreign object from your stomach, we also had one of our in-house quirk users heal the severe internal trauma you suffered, you’ll feel a pretty deep ache, but you should have a full recovery,” the doctor trailed off turning to the nurse behind him as she stepped forward, telling you about mental health counselling they offer here in their facility. You simply nodded, not bothering to look up into anyone's eyes as they droned on and on about your recovery, how you should be totally fine after some bedrest.  

You just nodded along to her handing you a release form, watching as she pulled the I.V. needle from your arm. Looking down at the form as your vision blurred in and out until a gentle touch woke you up from your wandering thoughts. You glanced up to see Shoto smiling down at you, the subtle upturn of his lips reassuring you. You signed the release, and the nurse left the room shortly after Endeavor and the doctor had stepped out a few moments earlier.

“[Name]... I’m so-I’m so sorry,” Shoto’s words got caught in his throat, choking on the weight of reality that couldn’t be erased with a simple apology. His trembling hands were attempting to hold yours, but their grip began to slip as his shoulders shook with the sobs wracking his body. Your hands squeezed around his reassuringly as he looked up at you with wide, watery eyes. 

“Shoto this isn’t yo-” he cut you off.

“Don’t say this isn’t my fault,” he ground out between clenched teeth, “you were hurt because of your connection to me and my family - it is only my fault. I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you before any of it happened, I’m sorry I can’t undo any of it.” Shoto continued to cry, unable to look at you as you tugged on his hands, pulling on his arms until he got the message that you wanted him on the bed with you. He rested on his side as you pulled him into your arms, resting his cheek against your chest as he calmed his breathing to the sound of your heart. Your still-beating heart. He was so grateful you were physically here in front of him now, but it didn’t stop the unending waves of guilt and shame that he couldn’t do anything against his brother, couldn’t do anything to protect you when being with him put you in the sights of so many villains. 

“Shoto, wanna go home,” you whispered against his soft hair, words mumbled from your lips pressing against the top of his head. He simply nodded.

“D-did you want to go back to your apartment? Or you can come stay with me... or we can put you up in a new condo in the meantime if you don’t want to do either of those,” Shoto was shooting off a few suggestions, but you just wanted to go back to your familiar bed. As many new, awful memories lived there it was still your place of comfort - for now. 

“I’d like to go back to my apartment for now,” you relented, and he looked up into your eyes from his position resting against you, a frown deepening on his face. “I’ll consider moving to a new place with better security soon but for now I just want the comfort of familiarity.” 

“I’ve already arranged an extended paid leave from work for you, you can take as little or as much time as you want,” he stood up from the bed, gathering what little he had in the room with him before extending a small bag your way. “I didn’t think you’d want to wear the hospital gown home, so I got something simple.” You peeked in the bag and saw a casual black jersey dress, soft and flowy against your fingertips as you touched the fabric. “I thought you’d want something soft and easy,” his nervous mumbling was endearing as you stood from the bed with his help, gripping onto his forearms as he let you use him to gain strength standing.

“It’s perfect, Sho,” you managed a smile, “I’m gonna get changed, I’ll meet you outside in a couple of minutes?” He nodded and took his stuff, leaving the room with the quiet sliding of the door before a soft click sounded. You pulled out the dress and pulled it over your head, the silken fabric falling to your mid-calf and in the bottom of the bag you noted some all-black slip-on canvas shoes. It was small things like this that made you smile so much - this was similar to the outfit you picked out the first day you met Shoto officially, the day you ran into each other that started this relationship. Being back in these clothes spread a wave of butterflies across your whole body and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.

You gathered the paperwork you were given, opting to leave the clothes you were rescued in - they were his any severing any connection to him seemed like the right thing to do. You didn’t want to wear or own anything that was ever his. You stepped out of the room to see Shoto pacing a little, smiling when he saw you exit and extending his hand for you to take. You gladly did, allowing him to pull you closely into his side as he led you out of the clinic and into a waiting company vehicle. You were thankful for the blacked-out windows of the SUV, finding the brightness of the sun uncomfortable, as well as the sight of anyone’s eyes lingering on you too long. Shoto leaned away from you for a second before pulling out your cellphone from his pocket.

“I cleaned it of everything that you didn’t already have on it,” Shoto’s words hooked into your skin. Nothing you didn’t already have on it? So Dabi did use your phone for something.

“Did Dab-” you couldn’t manage to say his name. “Did he send you... I know he took photos, Sho, did he-” you couldn’t get your thoughts out, afraid of the answer.

“Would knowing the truth help you right now?” He asked, simple.

“Yes,” you answered back, barely a whisper. “I think it would.”

“Yes,” he answered back. “He sent me some taunts over text, as well as photos and videos of you in compromising positions. There are no existing copies of the photos or videos, they were briefly used by the detectives to gather location information from the backend of the photos, but those were confirmed deleted, and they were observed during their investigation to ensure nothing slipped through the cracks,” Shoto was clinical in his answer to you which you appreciated. You didn’t want to be babied at this moment. You just gave a brief nod before leading your body into Shoto, he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer into his side as the car took you both back to your apartment.

Once arrived Shoto followed you up, asking to enter first just in case anything was missed by the detectives as he scanned your apartment for signs anyone but you had been inside, deeming it good enough for you to come further into your apartment. Shoto watches as your eyes moved around the familiar space with uncertainty, he wanted to hold you in his arms and take you back to his home, but he knew that wasn’t what you wanted. 

“I can stay on the couch if you like,” Shoto offered, met with your shaking head and sad smile. 

“I appreciate it Shoto, so much,” you assured him, leading him back to the door. “Text me when you get home safely yeah? I think I’m going to shower, have some tea and try to get some sleep.” You lent up on your tippy toes to place a soft peck on Shoto’s lips, and he hummed against the kiss, pressing into you for a second longer before you pulled away. “Thank you for fighting for me, Sho, we can talk more tomorrow, okay?” He simply nodded, giving the hand he had clasped around yours a soft squeeze as he left out your door, and down to the waiting car. 

You let yourself stand in your entryway for some time after Shoto left. Letting the silence of your apartment settle into your bones before you finally decided to move to your bathroom, stripping the dress from your body as you looked in the mirror. There was a faint healed white scarring in the shape of two large handprints still beneath your bust, the sight made you physically ill. 

Something new to get used to.

You fell back into your normal routine, taking your time to pamper yourself in the shower and stepping out into the steam, wrapping yourself in a fresh, fluffy towel before crossing the hallway into your room. You went into a familiar drawer and pulled out an old t-shirt and shorts. Everything was so familiar to you but felt so far away... so foreign. You fell into your bed, pulling up the covers as you drifted off into a dreamless sleep, having forgotten all about your tea or waiting up for Shoto’s text.

Back in the SUV, Shoto was feeling relieved but couldn’t stop the anxious jump of his leg. He wanted to stay with you, wanted to soothe the sharp edges of your experience and talk things over with you. He wanted to be there for you, but he also respected your wishes to be alone and reset in your own space. He finally resigned himself, sitting back in the seat as his body relaxed more. He would ask to see you tomorrow, and you could start from there. Just when he was nearly lost in a daydream his phone began to vibrate, going to pick it up thinking it was you until he saw his dad’s number. Shoto hesitated, almost not picking up before he just pressed answer and put the phone to his ear.

“Endeavor,” Shoto’s voice was a flat monotone as he waited for the reason for the late-night call.

“Shoto there’s an issue,” Endeavor hurried out, “the guards at the holding facility with Touya said he’s no longer there, there was some ectoplasmic sludge left in his wake - the detective thinks it was one of Twice’s clones.” Shoto didn’t hesitate to scream at the driver to take him back to your apartment, his father’s loud voice screaming from the receiver for him as he hung up the call. Shoto wasted no time in trying to call you with no answer. He shot you a text to call him as soon as you got his message and kept trying to call you again.

A harsh banging on your door jolted you from your sleep. You blinked a few times, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you noticed your clock saying it was only about forty minutes from when you first laid down. The banging continued until you got up, shuffling to your front door before peeking through the peephole but seeing no one. An acrid smell assaulted your nostrils and you saw a grey haze that had you worried there was a fire, and someone had just come down the hallways warning everyone. You pulled your door open to find the hallway empty and no obvious signs of a fire, no one was making a fuss and there wasn’t an alarm. It was when you went to shut your door that your blood ran cold - there on your door was a blackened handprint, still steaming and hot to the touch. You slammed your door shut quickly, locking the deadbolt and the knob as you stumbled back from the door. You turned around and ran to your room, hearing the chime of your cellphone before it quickly cut off.

You froze in the doorway, in the dimness of your room there was a brilliant electric blue light - flame - and an unmistakable silhouette with your cellphone to his ear, a familiar voice chilling you to the core as goosebumps spread across your body. 

“Sorry little brother,” Dabi couldn’t hide the jovial tone, each word punctuated with a bit of laughter. “Our little sister can’t come to the phone right now.”