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dreamescapeswriting · 1 year ago

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Stray Kids Reaction || You're Pregnant [Mafia Edition]

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - September 2023

⤜MASTERLIST

Fem!Reader

CHAN:

You struggled against the cable ties that were wrapped around your wrists and bit down on your lip as you thought back to your morning with Chan. The two of you had gotten into an argument over babies, you were ready to have one and he told you it wasn't the time yet...but it was too late for that since you already knew you were pregnant. It had been an accident, a happy accident for you at least and you'd been trying to get an idea about what Chan could possibly think about it all when it turned into a huge argument. You'd stormed out and now you were sitting trapped inside of a jewellery store being held hostage while two idiots decided that they were going to try and rob the place. The silent alarm had been sounded judging by the amount of cop cars outside but you knew that they weren't exactly great at their job and you desperately wanted Chan here.

"What are you doing? They'll catch you," Kat hissed out as you continued to wriggle your hands around in the cable ties, slipping one hand free and smirking at her,

"Just shut up and tell me if they're coming," You mumbled at her carefully sliding the phone from your pocket and dialling Chan's number, You didn't even need to speak you just needed him to pick up the phone.

"AYE! We got a free one!" A voice cried out, within seconds you were dragged onto your feet and you kicked your phone to Kat who was quick to hide it.

"You just made yourself the token hostage, baby, you're going to be famous." The slimeball who was holding you whispered in your ear, biting down on your earlobe as you resisted the urge to fight back against him. Fighting someone who had a gun, as well as four friends with guns probably wasn't the best idea in the world.

"Open the doors, I want everyone to see us." He ordered two of his men before dragging you to the main entrance, a gun pressed against your temple as you did your best not to cry.

"We want a clear passage out of here, no cops, we also want 50,000 in cash that's not inked or traceable!" He boomed, your eyes finding a camera as you stared into it. If Chan was watching he would come for you, he'd come and save you and everyone else inside.

"If I do not get what we asked for in the next hour, I'll start taking them out one by one, starting with this one." He yelled before dragging you back inside and throwing you down onto the floor beside Kat.

"He answered, he heard...These bastards won't know what hit them," Kat told you before you nodded weakly, hoping Chan had a plan to save everyone inside of this store.

[X]

"It's been 56 minutes, If they were going to give us what we wanted they would have done it by now," JP - one of the robbers said, They'd all begun to take off their masks clearly no longer bothered showing their names or faces anymore.

"Then we'll show them I meant business," Lawson said as he pulled you up by your wrist, pushing you toward the door while you begged for him not to do this but before you could reach the doors they opened and Chan stood there.

"What the fuck? Who the fuck are you?" Lawson quizzed, his gun now pointed at your head as Chan looked at you,

"You okay baby? I came as soon as I could," He was far too calm about this and you didn't know if that scared you or excited you because it was easy to underestimate the men holding you hostage right now.

"I asked you a question!"Lawson screamed out making you flinch when you heard him cock the gun back,

"I suggest you let go of my wife, or you'll be down one man at a time,"

"Yeah like-" The shot rang out before Lawson could finish his sentence and people screamed as JP hit the ground.

"You have two seconds to let everyone go before I take you out as well," Chan suggested, still far too calm for your liking.

"I don't answer to you!" He boomed before another shot rang out and you already knew Felix was somewhere doing these long-distance shots, there was no one else Chan would trust with it. Lawson's grip on you only tightened though,

"You have no one left," Chan moved closer to you and your eyes watered as you felt the gun slowly dropping toward your stomach.

"You took everything from me, so it's only fair I take her," Lawson growled out,

"HE CAN'T SHE'S PREGNANT!" Kat screamed out, it was enough time for a shot to ring out and hit Lawson in the shoulder, you scrambled away from him and over to Kat as Chan stared at you both in utter confusion. Cops rushed in taking Lawson while you stared at your husband,

"Surprise?" You stuttered out as he held onto your waist, he'd always wanted kids but was it even time? You were still in danger, anything could have happened to you.

"We need to get you somewhere safe, somewhere no one can hurt you or our baby," You stared at him as you nodded,

"Sure, but...aren't you mad? Excited? Anything?" You were terrified this was going to ruin everything between you, it wasn't how you wanted to tell him you were pregnant but here you were.

"Of course I'm excited...Starting a family with you?!" His eyes were starting to tear up and he whimpered a little,

"But we need to figure things out, more protection, everything...Let's go home," He told you, wrapping you in his arms as you cuddled into him a little.

MINHO:

Ever since Minho had found out that you were pregnant he had been going above and beyond for you and your unborn child. The two of you attended every single scan together, as well as every class...Every...Class. Any class that was available it appeared as though Minho was right there signing you up for it and you couldn't get away from them all.

"What is this?" You questioned, staring down at the one-eyed baby doll that was screaming loudly like someone had dropped it in front of you while your husband smiled proudly. The baby was still continuing to scream out as its one eye opened and shut every now and again, it was starting to freak you out a little.

"They're like little robots, We take care of them during this lesson to see what kind of parents we'll be and then at the end, they'll tell us what we can improve on." You blinked at your husband, when he took you out of the house today it was with a promise of mint chocolate chip ice cream, something you'd been craving desperately all morning long.

"I was promised ice cream," You reminded him of what he'd told you that you'd come out of the house for. It was the only reason you were dressed in dirty sweatpants and a shirt covered in stains because you were told Ice cream and home.

"After the lesson, we need this." He told you with a slight stutter to his voice.

"Do you think I'm going to be a bad mum? Is that why you keep bringing me to lessons?" You whimpered a little, tears rolling down your cheeks as you realised what all of this was about. It was the only explanation for all of the classes he'd been signing you up for, he thought you were going to be a bad mum.

"No! No...No baby," He put both his hands on your shoulders trying to make you look at him but you refused to, instead, you chose to move away from the table and whine at him.

"Clearly you think that. That's why you're so insistent on every class you see," You sniffled, using the sleeves of your shirt to wipe your cheeks before Minho let out a low sigh.

"It's not you that I think is going to be a bad parent." And that was when it hit you. All of the classes had mostly male parents that were in attendance and you remembered one of them asking Minho why he was there and Minho had been really shady about it.

"Minnie..." You cooed out, running your hand over his cheek in a soothing manner.

"You're going to be a fantastic father," You whispered but he scoffed at you.

"I'll barely be home and when I am, what if I do something wrong? What if I don't know the temperature I need the bath water at? What if they grow up and hate me." Tears were now dripping down his face and you smiled a little to see your tough husband showing his vulnerable side.

"First of all, they could never hate you and secondly baby, you can't get it wrong but if you get confused I am right there to help," You told him as he nodded at you, slowly looking you in the eyes.

"Let's go get ice cream and go home?" you suggested before he nodded once again taking your hand in his and heading out of the room.

CHANGBIN:

You'd known that you were pregnant for a while but you'd been doing everything within your power to hide it from your husband which was getting consistently harder to do. It wasn't that you didn't want him to know but you already knew what was going to happen as soon as he found out. You could kiss your freedom goodbye, there was no way you were going to be able to go out shopping with your friends anymore, Changbin was going to turn into that overprotective man and as much as you loved him, you wanted your freedom as well.

"I'm calling the doctor," He told you as he watched you from the bathroom door, you were hunched over the toilet bowl throwing up and it was starting to worry your husband. For the last four days, you'd been throwing up and it was starting to scare him but whenever he asked you about it you told him that it was nothing.

"I'm fine," You groaned, flushing the toilet and sitting up straight leaning against the bathtub and looking at your husband who was looking a little pale.

"You're being sick a lot, you can't be fine." He knelt down on the floor in front of you, reaching for the bottle of water and handing it to you. You could tell how much this was worrying him and you let out a small sigh, it was obvious that you were going to have to tell him the truth.

"I'll be fine because I know what's wrong with me," You mumbled, using the edge of the bath to help yourself stand up and move out of the bathroom and into the bedroom where you could sit down and talk.

"You're scaring me," He admitted once you sat on the edge of the bed and took his hand into yours, You squeezed it softly while looking up at him.

"Binnie, I have to be honest with you." You swallowed the lump that was in your throat and tried to think of the best way to tell him this. You knew he would be excited about it but maybe a little angry that you'd kept it a secret for two months now.

"I'm pregnant." You said it quickly enough that Changbin was almost sure he hadn't heard you correctly, his eyes staring into your face.

"What?" He stuttered a little, he'd been wanting to have a baby for a long time, The two of you had been trying for a very long time and he was worried it was something wrong with him that you weren't able to conceive.

"I'm two months pregnant and I didn't tell you because I was scared if I did you weren't going to let me leave the house," He stared at you still in a complete state of shock as he thought about what you'd just said to him.

"Babe...Say something, please?" You begged as he nodded his head a little acknowledging that he'd heard what you said but that he was still processing everything.

"A baby? Our little baby?" He ran his hand over to your stomach, your bump wasn't even there yet but you smiled placing your hand on top of his on your stomach.

"Our baby. You're not mad at me, for hiding it?"He shook his head at you quickly kissing your temple

"I could never be mad at you, but you are right about one thing." He told you as he chuckled a little.

"You're not leaving the house without extra protection," You laughed a little and nodded your head. At least if there was more protection around you, you could still go out into the world. A few more bodyguards weren't going to hurt you.

HYUNJIN:

From the moment that Hyunjin found out about your pregnancy, it was like something switched inside of him. He'd turned into a slight control freak when it came to your safety and you'd suddenly been ripped away from your world.

"Are you going to let me out anytime soon?" You quizzed your husband as you stared at him, he'd just come home from a supply run and smiled at you.

"Once our son or daughter is born, yes." You sighed at him, you knew he was just doing this to protect you but you were going insane. Seven months of the same walls and you were beginning to question your sanity at this point.

"Hyunjin...I'm going to go crazy if you keep me locked up." You wanted him to realise how bad it was for you to be trapped here for so long. He'd hidden you from everyone, only those who NEEDED to know about the pregnancy did, your family, some of the staff in the house and your guards. Other than that it was hidden from the world, Hyunjin didn't want to risk someone trying to hurt him or his child.

"You get to go out." He reminded you as you stared at him. Going to your scans and classes didn't exactly give you the kind of freedom you were after. You missed going shopping for yourself, going out and doing things during the day instead you were stuck inside.

"To appointments and then it's back here. I miss the outdoors," You mumbled at him, looking at the painting supplies he'd just bought back for you. Ever since you'd been locked inside of the house you'd found more and more time to paint out your feelings and you'd eventually run out of paint.

"I'm seven months pregnant, please, I need fresh air." You begged with him but he stared at you, nothing was going to change his mind on this.

"You have the back garden." He grumbled, sitting on the sofa as you stared down at him, Maybe it was the hormones making you extra crabby today but you weren't in the mood for his games.

"I could kill you in your sleep." You reminded him as he smirked up at you,

"Cute, but we both know you wouldn't. You love me too much," He winked at you but you continued to glare at him, folding your arms across your chest and shaking your head.

"Not if you don't let me go out. I'll leave you."

"Yn." He said in a warning tone, putting down the book he'd picked up but you shook your head at him, if that was what it was going to take for him to take you seriously then so be it.

"Seriously, Hyunjin. I need to get out. I need to get away, just somewhere please." It was beneath you to beg your husband for something and his heart shattered a little.

"I'll organise something," He told you with a small smile on his face, he was sure he could take you to the beach house for a few days without someone seeing.

"More than an hour." You warned him and he smirked at you.

"How does three nights sound? At the beach house, just us..." You screamed before practically throwing yourself on your husband's lap and pampering his face with kisses.

JISUNG:

"You look bored," Jisung whispered in your ear, the two of you were attending Jeongin's wives' event tonight and you were a little bored, to say the least. Everyone else was drinking and having fun while you were drinking orange juice or water trying not to seem suspicious about it. You'd known you were pregnant for about six weeks now and it was getting harder and harder to hide it from your husband. Just last week he'd been trying to get you to have some sushi as well as trying to take you to a new deli that was opening and you'd done everything you could to get out of it.

"You're not drinking, that's why." He chuckled before handing you a glass of champagne and waiting for you to drink from it but you just stared at it.

"I can't," You lied putting it down onto the table in front of you and smiling warmly at him. You hoped he'd drop the subject, the last thing you wanted was to announce your pregnancy at a party, No, you wanted to do it privately with him. You'd even ordered some items to help you tell him that you were pregnant, you were going to put a small bag together with baby growth inside as well as a mug that read "best daddy ever" on it so he could take it to work with him.

"Why? Are you sick again?" Concern seeped through his voice as he placed his own glass down and held onto your hands. He'd heard you throwing up the other week and ever since he'd been calling every day to check up on you and make sure you were okay.

"No, I'm fine. I'm just not in the mood for it," You smiled trying to seem as convincing as possible but it was clear your husband wasn't going to drop the subject.

"I'm going to use the little girl's room." You told him, placing your hand on his shoulder as you slowly got up and left him alone with his thoughts. You were sick, refusing alcohol and even some foods and that was when it hit him.

"Oh my god," He hissed out, rushing after you as he tried to follow you into the toilets.

[x]

"Jisung!" You cried out as he shoved out the last remaining women that were inside the hotel bathrooms with you. There was a guard manning the door on the outside to make sure no one else came in while he spoke to you.

"You're pregnant!" Your eyes widened as you stared at him. How did he even know? You'd done everything within your power to make sure no one else knew except for you.

"Jisung?"

"It makes sense, you wouldn't eat certain foods, you keep peeing more frequently, you won't drink and you've been sick." You hated him in that moment, you hated that he found out and this was how he was talking to you about it.

"You weren't supposed to find out this way." You pouted out your bottom lip and he chuckled bringing you into a tight hug.

"How would you have told me?" He quizzed, and you stared up at him before explaining the details of your plan.

FELIX:

You hadn't been trying for a baby which was why it was surprising to you when you suddenly found out that you were expecting your first child with Felix. You hadn't told him yet, you were waiting for the right time but you'd been buying some things for your son or daughter and keeping them locked in the spare bedroom. You'd bought lots of shoes and clothes whenever you were out and saw something you wanted.

"What are you doing?" Felix questioned as he walked into the spare bedroom to find you crying on the floor over a box of stuff. You'd been acting weird for weeks now and he was starting to worry that you were going to leave him. You were quick to shut the box and wipe your eyes,

"Nothing, I was just looking at old photos." You lied and Felix could already tell you were lying to him, he'd been with you long enough now to know when you were lying to him.

"Are you packing things up to leave me?" You stared at him and frowned,

"What?" Leave him? Why would you ever leave him? The man was the love of your life, the two of you would fight and bicker but that was like every couple.

"You've been acting weird for weeks...I-If you want to leave, I won't stop you but...But please, tell me what I can do to make things better." He knelt down beside you and you stared at him, whimpering a little at the thought of him thinking you could ever leave.

"Lix, I could never leave you." You whispered, placing your hand on his cheek making him look at you with a saddened expression on his face.

"Then...Why are you being so secretive and weird?" You shifted away from him a little and pushed the box between you, you were going to have to tell him sooner or later and since you didn't know how to begin you figured this was the best way.

"I'm pregnant and I didn't know how to tell you." You explained as he slowly lifted the box open and his eyes landed on everything you had inside. There were so many pieces of clothes and shoes, the box was too full now and you'd been crying over it which seemed silly looking at it now.

"We're going to have a baby?" Felix couldn't hide the excitement in his voice as he turned to look at you, his eyes filled with so much joy.

"Y-Yeah and I know we weren't trying but this is a good thing...We're going to have a family," You sniffled as the tears began to stream down your face once again, this time Felix wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to sit on his lap.

"We're going to have a baby," He breathed out, smiling brightly as he began to think of all the things you needed to do together to get ready for your little bundle of joy to be here.

SEUNGMIN:

"Mr and Mrs Kim, it's so lovely to see you." The car salesman said as you and Seungmin walked through the building. The two of you were on the hunt for a new car and you had both been extra picky with what you were looking for. It wasn't as though you had none back home but this was an anniversary gift, according to your husband at least. You didn't want to spend too much but it appeared as though he wanted to go above and beyond for you.

"It's lovely to see you too, can we go and talk in your office?" Seungmin asked as one of the ladies who worked inside made her way over to you. Elsie, she'd been working here for years and you knew her thanks to your husband who liked to shop for cars.

"Here," She handed you a small mug of hot chocolate and you smiled, the two of you leaving the men to talk as you walked around all of the cars together.

"We got the new Mustang in, do you want to sit in it?" She giggled holding up the keys, your eyes lit up as you rushed with her to go and find it. You'd never really been into cars but you knew when one was pretty and you liked to see them but as you opened the door you let out a small groan. The smell of the leather seats made you feel sick instantly and you backed away from the door holding your hand over your nose,

"You doing okay?" Elsie questioned nervously, she knew the car was cleaned since she'd just finished cleaning it the night before.

"Yeah, just smells are getting to me a lot lately." You mumbled, shutting the car door not being able to stand the smell of the leather.

"Oh? Are your boobs a little sore...And does your back hurt?" You stared at her as she listed off everything you'd been feeling for the last few weeks and you nodded

"Yeah, I thought it was a bug so I've been trying to rest a lot." Elsie could see straight through it though, it wasn't just some bug or the flu you were clearly pregnant.

"Oh gosh, no...Follow me," The two of you joined hands as you ran toward her office where she began rooting through the bottom of her drawer.

"Take this to the bathroom and I'll call Mr. Kim in for you." She placed the package in your hand before you had time to question her on it and you frowned glancing down at the blue package.

[X]

Two minutes were passing by slower and slower and you were beginning to freak out a little with how calm Seungmin was being about all of this.

"How can you be so calm?!" You freaked out, pacing around inside the bathroom as you waited for your timer to sound and let you know that the two of you could look. Seungmin was sitting on top of the bathroom counters watching you closely, the car dealership had shut down this bathroom so that the two of you could do this privately with one another.

"I want a baby," He shrugged, it had been his dream to have a family with you and now it was finally coming true. Sure, the two of you hadn't exactly been trying but it was obvious that if it was meant to be then it was going to be.

"I do too...B-But are we ready?"

"We'll have to be," He chuckled snaking his arm around your waist and pulling you to stand between his legs your breathing calming down almost instantly as you stared at him. Seungmin moved his hands to your face and cupped your cheeks,

"We're going to be amazing parents," He promised you as the timer sounded, both of you letting out a deep sigh before looking at the test. A smiley face displayed on the screen with the words "pregnant" making your heart race as you looked at him.

JEONGIN:

"I want this place spotless!" You called out to the event hall of your hotel, everyone inside was rushing around at the last second to make sure everything was perfect for you. You placed your hand on your stomach and watched as one of your guards - Carlos - made his way over to you with some snacks,

"You're going to make it obvious," You mumbled to him as you took the crisps from him and started to eat from the packet. It seemed as though ever since you'd hit the 6-week mark of your pregnancy you'd been craving crisps or anything that was savoury and Carlos had been the man to help you. Mostly because he was the only other person who knew about it and he only knew because he found you crying in your office whilst holding the stick.

"I think it should be obvious. Too much stress isn't good for the baby and have you told Mr Yang yet?" Carlos was far too comfortable with you, you thought maybe it was time to switch him for another guard but you'd grown comfortable with him also and you enjoyed your talks together.

"No." You mumbled with a mouthful of crisps, shaking your head at him. All week long he'd been trying to get you to tell Jeongin about the pregnancy but you were nervous about it. You knew if he found out he was only going to stop you from working the event that your hotel was hosting and that was the last thing you wanted

"Don't you think you should?" He raised his brow at you but you mumbled what he said back to him in a mocking tone and walked toward your office. You opened the door and stared at Carlos with a weak smile,

"I'll tell him when the time is right after the event is over." You shrugged not realising that Jeongin was standing inside of your office and Carlos held back the smirk. He'd known about Jeongin coming to visit you and it was his intention to try to get him to overhear everything,

"Tell who what when the time is right?" You cringed as you heard Jeongin and you glared at Carlos.

"You're a betrayer and I hate you." You mumbled slamming the door in his face and making your way toward the chair behind your desk.

"Is there something I should know?"

"No. It's nothing, it's just Carlos worrying for nothing." You hated the fact that you were lying to your husband but you needed to make sure you worked this event. You'd been planning it for months now and you weren't going to let Jeongin or anyone else take it away from you.

"Is it about your pregnancy?" Your hand paused midway to your mouth and the crisps fell from your grasp,

"How-" Your heart sank as you thought about him finding out through someone else but you. The last thing you ever wanted was for him to be upset but he didn't seem it in the slightest, in fact, he seemed rather happy.

"Please, you've been eating crisps non-stop, you're throwing up and not to mention some of the maids were gossiping about it when they found the test in your trash." Jeongin had known for weeks and at first, he was a little upset that you hadn't come to him but he could understand why.

"Those little rats," You mumbled to yourself, sighing and looking at him, suddenly feeling the guilt take over you as you whimpered a little.

"I didn't tell you because I knew you'd stop me working."

"Did I?" He smirked, raising a brow at you. Sure, at first he wanted to stop you from doing everything but he knew that would only make you worse and neither of you wanted that.

"Well, no, but-"

"I won't stop you working but as soon as I see you stressing that's when I'll put a stop to things." He reached his hand over the desk and squeezed yours softly,

"Thank you," You whispered, smiling a little as you thought about it.

"We can go shopping this weekend...I have my first scan in a week, after the event." You told him as he nodded at you, this he already knew since he'd called doctors to get things ready for you.

Tagline: @chiisaiblog @hanasonmi @sw33tnight @taestannie @acciocriativity @scarletemeterio @halesandy @aerastus @laylasbunbunny @critssq @lenfilms @btsiguess-kpop @meowmeowisdaname @imafivestarkpopstan @lost-leopard-beanie @djeniryuu @backintomykpopphaseagain @choisoorin

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woso-dreamzzz · 8 months ago

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Accident II

Kyra Cooney-Cross x Gorry!Reader

Summary: Lunch with your sister

It wasn't often that Kyra got scared of Mini. Sure, Mini got annoyed at her sometimes but it was never like this.

Kyra ducked to hide behind her menu, unwilling to make eye contact as you chattered away to your sister.

Mini nodded along with whatever you were saying but it was clear she wasn't fully focussed on you. All of her attention was firmly on the hand of yours that Kyra was currently death gripping.

She thought, briefly, about dropping it but then she realised that it was the only thing keeping her in even the same country as the awkward interaction that was brewing. If she let go now, she would be out the door sprinting back to Australia the first chance that she got.

Kyra tightened her grip.

You noticed, smiling at her before you refocused on your sister.

"So," Mini said, her first words since you all settled down at the table," How did you two meet?"

"At the pub. We-"

"No," Mini laughed fondly at you," I want to hear it from Kyra."

You didn't seem to find the malice in her tone so you just nodded, pivoting so you were facing Kyra.

Her throat bobbed, suddenly feeling parched. She cleared her throat. "Well...Katie and Caitlin took me to a pub after one of our matches. I tripped..." Kyra pointedly left out that she had tripped and landed her lips upon yours. "And we just started talking."

Mini nodded. "Hmm, okay." Her eyes narrowed briefly as she stared at Kyra before turning back to you. "And you," She said," All it took to get you into football was dating one of my teammates?"

You grinned. "I wouldn't go that far. I just like supporting Kyra."

Mini's gaze returned to Kyra again as you slipped off into the bathroom. Kyra wondered briefly if she should have gotten up to go with you because being alone with Mini right now felt like a nightmare come to life.

She shrunk under Mini's gaze and busied herself with sipping her drink.

"That's my baby sister, Kyra," Mini said, her tone firm like the one she used to tell off Harper.

"I didn't know at the time," Kyra replied," Honest! I would have told you if I knew!"

"Would you?"

Kyra winced. Now that she thought about it, no, she probably wouldn't have told Mini that she was dating you. "I would!" She lied.

"You would have what?" You chose that moment to return to the table, drying off your hands as you slipped into your seat.

"Kyra was just telling me that she would have happily told me that you two were dating if she'd known we were related."

You scrunched up your nose. "I wouldn't have," You said," You're scary sometimes, Kat. If I'd known you two already knew each other then I would have hidden this for longer."

Mini scoffed. "Yeah? And why's that?"

You shrugged. "You're scary," You repeated," You scared off people I wasn't even dating. I don't want you to run off Kyra too. I love her."

Mini rolled her eyes and Kyra grabbed your hand again.

She was worried, you knew this but you'd had years of practice with Katrina to know when to stand your ground. To Katrina, you'd always been (and probably always would be) her immature little sister. You'd always had to stand your ground to get her to take you seriously.

She stared at you, eyes narrowing in an attempt to get you to submit to her will. You had to admit, ever since having Harper, Katrina had perfected the mum look - having practised on you for years.

You stared back, unwilling to even blink.

Kyra looked between you both, a chill running up her spine at the battle of wills you were locked into.

"Er..."

"If she hurts you, I'll kill her," Mini promised you. It seemed like a threat that was meant to go to Kyra but she said it to you instead.

You shrugged. "As if I'd let you find her."

"Good."

You picked up your menu. "I'm thinking gammon."

Mini picked up her menu too. "Funny, I was leaning more towards the eggs."

Kyra sat there in shock as she stared, eyes wide. "Wait, is that it?"

You frowned. "Sorry, I should have asked. Kyra, what did you want? I assumed we were going to share. Did you want something else?"

Your words didn't solve Kyra's shock at all and she was left to scramble for what she wanted on the menu.

#woso x reader #kyra cooney cross x reader #kyra cooney cross #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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catskets · 4 months ago

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From Desires to Demo: How to Write a Good Demo for your Visual Novel

I'm deciding I want to expand on some topics in longer, fuller-length posts based on points I made in this general VN development post.

There is a problem that players have expressed to me about visual novel demos, especially in horror/romance/yandere circles these days: they are not demos at all. Rather, they feel like introductions to the characters and the setting, and nothing happens at all. No one wants to have to go find out everything good about your game by going to your Tumblr and going through 10+ months of asks to get themselves hyped up for your game. Most people are not going to do that. They will instead play your demo and go "this isn't enough for me to come back to" and never think about it again.

How, then, do you get people playing your demo and being excited for the full game? This is my personal guide on how to make a compelling visual novel demo.

In case you've never heard of me, I'm Kat, also known as catsket. I have a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Game Design. I've been making games for nearly 5 years, and I've been doing visual novels more "professionally" for 2. You may know me for Art Without Blood, 10:16, God is in the Radio, or Fatal Focus. I'm here to help you make your first visual novel, or, perhaps, improve on what you've already made.

What is the purpose of a demo?

A demo is short or a demonstration. Your job is to demonstrate a portion of your game to players. In more "traditional" games, a demo typically takes place in a very tightly-constricted space that is meant to show off how the game feels. Maybe this is the first few levels of a platformer that showcases the general atmosphere and gameplay of the game.

We aren't making action and adventure games in explorable spaces. We are making visual novels. Most visual novel demos just showcase a small portion of the game, maybe the first few scenes.

What your demo should have is this:

A general vibe for your game. You're writing a psychological horror game. Give me a taste of that! Show me a bit of the gore, a bit of the horror.

A sense of urgency. A lot of demos I've played and discarded have been discarded because the game itself does not give me a motivation

An established plot. What is going to happen in the future? Why am I in this world?

In general, think of your game as the back cover of a book. That's where the hook that draws you in to read it. Just give me a proper taste of your game!

There are cases in traditional games where things are hidden from the player in demos (let's all remember MGS2) and where things are changed in from the demo to the final product. That's perfectly okay! You are not obligated to update your demo unless you find gamebreaking bugs and other issues. If things change from the demo to the final product, let your players be surprised and intrigued by these changes!

I can make this a list of do's and don'ts:

Before writing your demo...

Do: Outline, plan, and everything else.

Unless you're blessed by Mnemosyne herself, you need to outline where your story is going to go.

When starting a project, I write a 1-2 page document that has this information:

Name of the game

The target audience

The genre and moods

A paragraph summary of the game

1-2 sentences describing main characters and their roles

Write a short scene that captures the essence of the game

Write a basic outline. You don't need to fit everything in and outline it all, but give yourself an idea. A beginning, a middle, a climax, and an end. Some people just write the start and the finish, and then the middle gets all muddled and convoluted.

While writing your demo....

Do: Make it clear how the choices will impact the game

Visual novels are a medium where player choices affect the game. Make sure those choices actually matter. They don't all have to, of course. They might matter later in the game, but you should at least try to write an example of how a choice may matter.

For example, in Art Without Blood's new demo, certain choices mean you meet the characters in a different order and experience different sides of them.

Having a certain amount of a sanity stat will cause characters to give you some flavor text.

Here's a very simple idea: if you're running your game on a "love points" or other points system, you can make it so if player gets 10 points with love interest, get a different scene. It shows that your choices are impactful. Just let players have a taste of the consequences of their actions.

Don't: Character dump.

Many demos I have played were just character dumps. This means using the demo just to introduce to us the characters but not giving them room to truly show their personalities or their attachments to the problem.

For example, I played a game recently that had the player complaining about their living situation, showing us the characters in the same living complex, showed off the yandere, and then had the player deal with an annoying, evil boss. That sounds like lots of games, right? And that doesn't sound very fun, does it?

Do: Ground the player in the world

Try to immerse your player character in your world. I want to read like I'm part of it. What is our purpose? If we are a stranger, how can you immerse us in a world so far removed from ours?

Do it slowly, and do it with necessity. You don't necessarily want an exposition dump either.

Establish the world, establish the conflict, establish why they got into this conflict, and leave us off with a reason to come back.

Don't: Make your players have to visit other sites to get important information

Your ask blogs or other social medias should contain supplemental material that keeps players engaged, but it should not be a place where you should go "well, actually, in the demo, x y and z should have happened but it didn't."

Try not to spoil your game on your socials. What's the point of playing if I can just read it all on your blog?

I should learn about the plot and the characters from the game itself. I should not have to get a sense from your blog about a character because they were so dry in the demo.

Obviously, this isn't to say you need to include everything about a character in your demo. But we need to get a sense of personality. I shouldn't have to go to Tumblr to find that personality.

Do: Ask for help

Making a game on your own, especially for the first time, is scary. It's okay to ask for help. It's okay to get people to help you out with parts you aren't so familiar with. It doesn't make you any less of a developer. A lot of people need some degree of help. There is nothing wrong with that.

Don't: Start your marketing until you know you can finish the demo

I've seen lots of demos that have been in the works for years. It can be disappointing for fans and demotivating for the developer to have an idea, tell the world, and then not see a demo for a long time. This is especially the case when money is involved, but it's still irresponsible to promise a product and never deliver it. Be honest about the status of projects and your life.

Do: Outline content warnings properly

It is up to the player to decide if they think they're capable and ready to play your game. Make sure to outline your content warnings. Cover the basics, and feel free to leave an extended warnings list in your game or on your game page for specifics.

Content warnings are usually things like blood/violence, profanity, sexual content, etc. Trigger warnings typically get into specific things, like suicide, dentists, or religious trauma. Think of content warnings like the ERSB.

Put a splash screen before the game starts that showcase the content warnings and a place to find trigger warnings.

Don't: Pull back punches with what your characters are capable of

It's fiction. It doesn't necessarily mean you support your characters being crazy stalkers. Know the audience you want to write for, and don't feel a need to cower. Let them be filthy. Let them get their hands deep into someone's chest cavity and rip a body apart.

What I'm trying to say is you really shouldn't tone down what you think your characters are capable of because you're afraid of making fans sad or upset because pookie isn't acting the way they thought pookie acted in their head. It's your character. You're commanding the story. You are choosing where it goes, not fans. Just because you have an audience doesn't mean you need to tone it down to be more palpable to others.

Once your demo is released...

Do: Keep a balance

Making games is very, very hard. And the world is very, very harsh. It is okay to let your fans know about delays or potential cancellations, such as through the devlogs on itch.io for your game, in your community spaces, or on your blog. Please be honest. If you do not think that, after a demo's release, you can continue on the project, make it clear that it has been cancelled or on hiatus.

People will be understanding. The world sucks, and it sucks the life out of us. People are more forgiving if you are honest with the status of your game, rather than leaving it in a perpetual limbo.

Don't: Think that the popularity of your demo constitutes how "good" your game is.

Your demo may not do well. That could be a number of factors. Maybe your marketing didn't hit where you think it should have. Maybe you posted it at the same time as another game. Not your fault. The full release may do better. Don't let the numbers be the reason you give up.

Do: Network!

Get to know fellow developers in the space so you can learn from one another and get more ideas for improving your own games.

Don't: Use developers.

Use a developer's resources. You should not be making friends with other devs if your desire is to try and become friends with big people. That's a parasocial relationship, buddy!

Do: Tell your fans the course of action

Do you have a development timeline set up? Writing multiple days? Give fans a general outline that you planned before writing your demo. It's okay to miss things as long as you're honest. But a timeline will help you hold accountability for yourself.

Don't: Charge for it.

I've seen at least 3 games take the "I'm going to charge for a demo" route in an effort to sway children from playing the game. This is going to sway everyone. Especially if players have not seen a complete + finished product from you, they will not be buying an unfinished game. There are other ways to hide your games from children, such as using itch.io's adult content filters and applying them to your projects.

Main takeaway: Be honest.

I say this a lot throughout this post, but it's because it pushes on a particular trend I see in beginner visual novel developers. There's this desire to create, but there is also the desire for fandom centered around what characters and world spawn from your creations. To maintain that fandom, you need to create. You need to be consistent. It may be harsh, but it's the reality.

Life is hard, and a large majority of us are NOT doing this for a living. Life will get in the way. It always has, it always will.

That's why it's good to practice integrity. Know yourself and your limits. Take steps back and be willing to be open + honest.

Fans won't be happy if you keep saying a game is delayed and show little to no work. Posting unrelated artwork and spending months answering Tumblr asks instead of making a game will eventually run you in the mud without anyone to enjoy what you have the potential to create.

Live up to your promises, and if you can't, be honest. Your community will support you as long as you're open.

#visual novel development

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tinytennisskirt · 3 months ago

Text

From Pain to Promise

Summary: based on a dialogue request- Art has been in love with you since he met you at twelve. He's been pining for six years, so it kills him when you get a boyfriend over the summer. He's your friend, he's supposed to be happy for you. Instead, he's just hurt. And jealous. Too blinded by it to see the way your boyfriend is really treating you. After a climactic event outside of a party, you're freed from it all. And Art is right there, waiting, the way he's always been.

MAJOR WARNINGS: violence, abusive relationships, mentions of unwanted sex/attempts at unwanted sex. a fight. mentions of injuries, nothing too graphic, just bruises.

Warnings: pining, yearning, angst, jealousy, mentions of drinking, a kiss. badly edited.

Kat Zimmerman had nothing on you, that was for sure. Only a few nights after his little learning experience with Patrick, you came into the boy’s lives and their worlds were forever changed. Art’s more so. It was that one fateful day when you were picking out a tennis racket, the new girl at MRTA, and those two little boys knew they had to befriend you before Jake Dalton did. Both little boys, stumbling over each other, made their way over to the rackets and said hi, overlapping pre-pubescent voices telling you their names. And you smiled, hair braided, cheeks pink and rosy, exchanging their names for yours.

And you were friends. That’s how it was. You were friends. You, Patrick, and Art. But more so you and Art because Patrick didn’t know how he felt about being friends with girls. Especially when you were such a girl. Patrick didn’t have a painful little boy crush on you the way Art did. You told Art his hair would be perfect for pigtails and he’d let you do what you wanted, clips and bows and all, just so you’d touch him. He bragged to Patrick later that night. Patrick just laughed at him. “She put bows in your hair, dude. That doesn’t count as touching.” He was humbled.

Patrick did feel a little different when fourteen rolled around and you had boobs, but Art was the same, if not deeper in it for you. You remained their friend. You were always around, playing with Art’s hair on the bleachers or studying with them, making sure they actually paid attention. You went to all of Art’s games and maybe, for a few split seconds, he thought maybe you liked him back. But it’s a tale as old as time. He couldn’t ever be sure, so why would he tell you and potentially ruin everything? If he told you and it wasn’t reciprocated, he could say goodbye to all the casual touching and the things you granted him somewhat platonically.

Patrick was one of the only people who knew how bad Art had it because even after their first little incident, Patrick had once or twice heard or walked in on Art masturbating and it was a little obvious who he was thinking about. It was fine, it was nothing new.

One thing was so very clear and that this was all just pining. Pining after you, pulling strings to be closer to you, to hang out with you. Cancelling plans, switching partners, everything. He’d go insane when your hand brushed his, he was there for you every time you needed him. And by twelfth grade, he could say he loved you. It’d been six years of pining, he knew it to be true. So when you called him over the summer to say you had a boyfriend, it just about killed him.

“He’s really nice and he’s a tennis enjoyer, but not a player. It’s refreshing to find someone who doesn’t know every single term and I get to be the smart one for once,” you gushed to him. He was your best friend after all. You’d been friends, best friends, for six years. Art was glad you managed six years without any real crushes for more than a day and he could handle those because they weren’t real, but this was very real. Or you said so. “God, I can’t believe it, he just asked for my number two weeks ago and now we’ve been together a week. It’s so surreal.”

“That’s great, I’m happy for you,” Art said through clenched teeth. Six years of wanting you and this guy asked for your number and had you as his girlfriend in under a week. He wondered if you’d kissed him. He remembered when you had your first kiss just after his. Just about killed him though he’d just kissed Amy White two days before and bragged about it. He hoped it would make you jealous, but you had your own beau. This was worse than that. You were going to Stanford with him in a month or two, he thought if there was any time to make that change and tell you, it would be when he saw you next. And there wouldn’t be any college dating scandals and maybe he could live happily and find some girl to forget you with, though he knew he couldn’t.

“So it’s serious?”

“Very. I’m excited.” Just about took him out.

He didn’t eat for maybe two days. Would have been longer if Patrick didn’t come over and force-feed him nachos. Art told him the whole situation and Patrick, who had, of course, been rooting for you and Art since finding out Art liked you, was pretty pissed off about it. The two went back and forth just emphasizing ‘six years’. Six years of what? Six years of you hugging him and playing with his hair, going to movies with him, helping him study, spending time with him alone for you to just go and find some guy on a whim? And start dating him? You were all Art had wanted and it was then that he confessed that he was probably in love with you to Patrick. Patrick wasn’t surprised, then went and stole some beers from a friend, saying they needed to drink about it.

You still called as you usually did and Art never got to really feel himself heal when every phone call was an update and a fresh wound. The poor boy was yours and you weren’t his. There was nothing he could say to change that, he was a good friend. And he wanted you to be happy, so he kept his mouth shut. You talked about dates and how good of a kisser he was though you wished he used less tongue sometimes and every word was a papercut that added up to a bigger hurt. He had never wanted anyone the same way he wanted you and he was so sure he couldn’t. He buried his face in his pillow and got so frustrated it drove him to tears. His stomach hurt constantly and he felt like his heart was being pulled down to his stomach.

He was a little scared of how he’d act when you talked to him in person. He just finished settling into campus, his dorm room. You’d done the same with the agreement to meet him for coffee at the campus diner. You were still you, he noted, still painfully beautiful. And you were two months into dating this guy Greg. He sounded like a dick. You said he liked country music and he wasn’t going to post-secondary, he was older and going to a trade school. An asshole. Art did his best to change the topic.

“Mmm, so they have campus events all the time, they’re showing E.T. this Friday if you want to go.” You said. “We should.”

“We should talk them into playing Mac and Me after. A real movie.”

“Shut up, oh my god.” You laughed. Your laugh was one of his favourite things. He found it just a little painful to be here with you, knowing you couldn’t be the way you used to be now that you had a boyfriend. “Do you want to come with me to E.T. or not though, I’m terrified of new people.”

“No, yeah, I’ll go,” he nodded.

Your boyfriend visited on Thursday, so he didn’t see you then. Usually, you called him regardless of being on the same campus, but you didn’t. And then when you said you’d meet Art on Friday, you didn’t show up until the movie was half over. Art sat there, watching the movie on a stupid lawn chair with stupid Reece's Pieces and you came and joined him, apologetic. Said you were with Greg and Art could only imagine what that meant. It was too dark for him to notice how red your wrist was.

It was Art’s first step to breaking. The movie finished and he walked you back to your dorm. “Just saying, if you have plans with your boyfriend, don’t make plans with me. I’m not that kind of guy,” he reasoned, heading up the stairs with you. He tried not to sound bitter. He was only half-bitter anyway, he was mostly genuine.

You sighed, rubbing your left eye just a little. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“Does he know about me?” You were quiet. Too quiet. “Y/N?”

You bite your lip, “He knows we’re friends. He doesn’t know the full extent and he doesn’t need to! There’s nothing to worry about, but I just don’t want to worry him. He knows you’re my friend, he doesn’t know… everything.”

Art pressed his hand to his forehead, “I’m a secret, that’s crazy, that’s… fine, I guess. I don’t want to ruin anything for you.”

“You couldn’t.” You told him. “He’s secure. He’s good. And I’m sorry again for being late, I’ll make it up to you with coffee tomorrow if you’ll let me.”

Art nodded in response. How could he not forgive you? How could you stand here and be so beautiful and so apologetic and have him not forgive you? So he swallowed all his words for the thousandth time. “Coffee sounds good. Bring doughnuts. Campus library?”

“Campus library…”

“3 pm?”

“Perfect. See you then.” You kept your sleeve over your wrist which was still pinkened. “I really am sorry, Art.”

He smiled just a little, forced, “It’s okay. I promise. But I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Y/N.”

You said goodnight back and slipped into your dorm room again. Greg had gone out to the local bar, he didn’t come back until 2am when he said he’d be back at 12. Came back drunk and wanting to kiss you quite badly, smelling awfully of whiskey and weed.

Art wanted to forgive you for it all, but he felt like he couldn’t. Maybe he was bitter. He was bitter that you found someone and he didn’t, he was bitter that you had someone who wasn’t him. He’d yet to meet Greg, but he wondered if you smiled at him with your eyes... or when something funny was said if you'd lean into his shoulder while laughing. He wondered if you were the same, or if it felt the same when you were alone with him- like you could say anything and be unjudged. And that any darkness could be made a joke and made better just by talking for hours. He wondered if Greg had any of that the way he had. But Greg probably had that and more and Art would have to deal with that. He felt his heart physically slow its beating as it slowly, but surely, was beginning to crack.

You met Art the next day and of course, he noticed the hickey on your neck. It made his stomach do flips and tie itself in knots and he wanted to get up and leave, but you had the doughnuts and coffee. And he was supposed to be happy for you. He had to remind himself of that. He looked at you, the way you tucked your hair behind your ear and laughed and engaged with what he had said and you were still the most gorgeous girl on the planet. Nothing could or ever would change that. He was still head over heels and he couldn’t help it. He would call himself pathetic, he would degrade himself for still wanting you, but after six years, he couldn’t get away from it.

Greg was over quite a bit. You never called when he was around. You said you’d come hang out when Patrick was in town but you were late again, said you tripped down the stairs and the boys thought it was some excuse for sex with Greg, but you had the injuries to prove it, so neither of them could really be mad. “It hurts like a bitch,” you huffed, sitting down with them. “But it’s fine. We should drink tonight.”

“Your dorm room or mine?” Art replied, a smile on his face. He was happy about an excuse to drink, he was happy you weren’t late because of Greg, and he was happy you were here.

Your eyes widened and you answered much too quickly. “Yours.”

The three of you headed back to Art’s dorm. You lay on his bed, checking your phone every minute or so. It looked like you were getting an abundance of messages, but you were never texting back. Your phone rang twice before you silenced it. The boys chalked it up to Greg and the obsessions of an early relationship, but it wasn’t that early. At one point you tossed your phone off the end of his bed and on top of Art’s laundry. “Please, please, please, pass the vodka,” you enthused. Art and Patrick chuckled, watching you take a pretty large swig.

“Might want to slow down,” Patrick said, looking at Art, then back at you. You were out of the three of you, the person who hardly ever drank. And here you were chugging it like water. “Don’t want to return you to your boyfriend off your ass.”

“It’s fine,” you replied. “He’s fine, it’s all fine.”

“Yeah, I see that,” Patrick replied, taking the vodka back from you. Art grabbed it out of his hand and took a swig equal to yours, trying to drown out the way he was feeling. You were in his bed, talking about your boyfriend. It was fucked. And it felt awful. He looked at you, clouded by alcohol and god, he wished he kissed you in high school. He wished he told you how he felt. If he had, maybe you wouldn’t be so far out of reach. It took him all his strength not to tell you that while drunk. Instead he just laid on the bed next to you, laughing with you about some stupid shit Patrick said.

“This is why you’re not in college, Pat,” you laughed, out of breath. You had turned on your side, your hand was resting on Art’s upper arm. Patrick just groaned, laughing as he turned his head down to the floor. Art was too aware of your hand on his arm. The way it moved up and down almost the way a person would soothe another, but it was you. And this never meant anything, so why should Art let himself believe it did now?

“You’re so smart, tell us how good you are with context clues, go-” Patrick teased. But your eyes met the clock on Art’s desk. Your eyes widened a little. You’d lost track of time.

“Oh my god,” you said, a little bit of panic in your voice. “It’s almost midnight, fuck, I have to go.” You jolted upright and literally climbed over Art to get off his bed. “I’m so sorry, guys, I’ll see you tomorrow, please text me.” You grabbed your phone and your bag and in seconds you were gone.

Art just shut his eyes and sighed. “I feel that,” Patrick nodded. “What the fuck was that?”

“Greg beckons,” Art replied bitingly. “Can’t be late to see Greg!”

“Fucking Greg,” Patrick grunted. “You want the vodka back?”

“Yes please,” Art groaned, covering his face with his pillow.

You returned a little tipsy to Greg, who was tipsier. You used to think he was really great. He was funny and nice and he helped you drown out your feelings for Art. It felt like a step forward, progressive, real. Like a real relationship. One you knew you needed so maybe liking Art with no proof he liked you back would be easier. It was for a moment, but bliss is temporary.

“You’re back, doll,” Greg said, greeting you on messed up bedsheets, not even bothering to meet you halfway. “I’ve had a night. C’mere, I missed you.” You’re afraid to say you’re tired and you just want to sleep. You slink into bed with him. He smells like whiskey again. It’s stronger, more potent, and he needs a shower. The second you’re in bed with him, he’s on top of you. “So why don’t you tell me why you didn’t answer my fucking texts, huh? Or when I called you four fucking times. You know how embarrassing to call your girl and she doesn’t pick up, huh? Had to do that four fucking times in front of my friends, were you trying to embarrass me?” His hand is tight on your arm, leaving bruises, the other hand is on your hair as he keeps himself propped up. It’s pulling and you feel the headache starting.

“N-no, I’m sorry,” you manage. “Greg, you’re hurting me, you’re pulling my hair.”

“Thought you liked that?” He smirked. Not once had you ever liked having your hair pulled. Not once had you ever said that to him in any context.

“You’re hurting me!” You repeated. His hand eased out of your hair but his grip on your arm turned into a grip on your shoulder, just as hard. It hurt. You could feel it bruised already. “Greg, off, please.”

He made a noise sort of like a whine, his breath horrible. “But I missed you, thought we could have some fun when you came back.” He kissed you. He kissed you. He kissed you. You didn’t want to kiss him, you wanted air, you didn’t want his hand down your waistband. “Don’t fight, pretty, come on. I know you want this.”

No, you didn’t. You didn’t let it get so far without a fight. You were left to sleep alone as he stormed out. You tended to the injuries from earlier, the ‘stairs’ incident, plus the new injuries you’d have to make stories for because you’d be hanging out with Art and Patrick again. But the bruise that was already forming on your cheekbone looked bad enough that you texted Art saying you couldn’t make it tomorrow and you cried into your knees.

Makeup didn’t do a very good job, especially when every time something healed, there was something new. You did see Art a few days later when Greg had gone ‘fishing’ with a friend. The bruise on your cheek had faded, but not enough. Makeup hardly fixed it either. “Ball to the face,” you sighed, pressing your lips into a straight line when Art noticed it. He grimaced. “I mean at least my partner has upped her miles per hour but it’s…”

“Ouch,”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, walking next to him. “So I was thinking maybe we could hang out Tuesday night.”

He looked at you, “You have something in mind?” As if he could say no.

“Yes, actually. It’s like an improv show thing, it’ll probably be awful. We can get candy and make fun of them behind their backs.” You smiled just a little.

He grinned, bowing his head just a little, “Sounds perfect.”

“Thought so,” you laughed, nudging him a little so he walked off the sidewalk and onto the grass. He tried to nudge you back, but you dodged him and he nearly tripped down the hill you were walking next to. You laughed, but it only laughed so long as his expression turned into the determination to get you back for it. He chased you down the hill until it became a rolling matter, both of you falling into the lush grass and rolling down the last bit of it. He rolled into you, turning it into a chaotic tumble that slowed to a halt with him on top of you. Art breathed out hard, eyes meeting yours, his breath smelling like the mint gum he was chewing. You smiled first with your eyes and then the grin spread up your face. “Ouch,” you mumbled, almost a whisper. His eyes lingered on yours, his face hovering just above you.

His eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips and his brain told him to move, but he didn’t want to. But he had to. You were taken. It would be wrong. But you didn’t move either. You were both breathing hard, smiling at your compromising position until Art did move. Though maybe you didn’t want him to. “You’re okay?”

“I will be,” you replied. He helped you up and once again, your faces were just inches apart. It was dangerous, wanting you.

Greg threatened obscene things in the face of if you ever were to leave him. He’d tell your secrets, said he’d end his life, said he’d hurt you. You cried. A lot. For hours, later. He was terrifying. You cried so hard your eyes were completely bloodshot the next day. Your girlfriends were concerned, but you played it off as allergies.

You saw Art another day and it was good to talk to him about everything and nothing. He was a good distraction from the throbbing pain in your ribs from Greg’s reaction to you mentioning a celebrity crush. He had been drunk. Too drunk. And you couldn’t get away fast enough.

Tuesday rolled around. You kept your hair down to hide the bruise on your temple. It still ached, along with where your hair was pulled once again when you refused to have sex with Greg again. He was sitting bitter on your bed, angry still. You put on your jean shorts and a t-shirt. “Where you going dressed like that?”

You looked up, “Like what?”

“Why the fuck do you instantly talk back? What’s your fucking problem. I’m asking you where you think you’re going dressed like a slut?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Just getting dessert with Bea from my tennis program. She’s got this-”

“Go change.”

You weren’t looking for a fight. You put on jeans and a sweater. It made you five minutes late to meet Art and you hated it. You looked at Art with sadness in your eyes and he recognized it but didn’t know what it was. “Are you okay?” He knew you.

“Yeah, can we just… go make fun of bad improv?”

“I brought the gummy worms,” he nodded. You leaned slightly against him as you walked down to the outdoor theatre. You were glad to be out for the evening. Glad to be away from Greg and his anger and his hurtful words and the way he treated you. Art was the calm. He was the safety. He didn’t even know it, but he was what kept you going. If you ever got away from Greg, maybe you’d tell Art how you felt. As the feelings for Greg dissipated, your feelings for Art resurfaced.

“The clown bit was actually so good,” you laughed, walking back up the steps of the campus theatre. ”Reminded me of what Patrick said the first time we got high.”

His eyes widened and he swallowed the gummy worm he was eating, “Mm- I was thinking the same thing. It was him for sure.”

“You think I’d be a good clown?”

“Mmm, no.” He shook his head. “Your feet aren’t big enough.”

“And yours are?”

“One, who said anything about me being a clown and two, big feet are supposed to mean something, right?”

You laughed, “Shut up, so boyish.”

His hand brushed your upper arm, just slightly, and you were all too aware of it. In fact, you were all-too aware of how close you walked to him. It was always an unconscious thing. A forever type thing, always walking close, always leaning against each other in the cafeteria lines, always near each other- never near enough. He then nudged your arm again, this time on purpose, so you opened your hand so that he could dump a few more gummy worms in it and you just smiled. It had never, not once, been more apparent that finding someone to replace your feelings for Art was a mistake. Not when this boy, blonde curls and crooked grin was putting a pile of gummy worms in your hand. Wordlessly. Seamlessly. He just got you and the feeling to kiss him right there, right then was overwhelming. And wrong.

It was wrong. You pressed your lips together for a moment before eating a gummy worm. If your boyfriend was around he’d smack them right out of your hand saying you don’t need more sugar. Maybe that’s why he was so bitter, you thought. Lack of sugar. You tried not to think too hard about the urges Art brought with him. He was so lovely, he was such an escape, and he was only your best friend. It was all he could be. You had no idea he was fighting the very same urge, paying extra attention to the fact he didn’t even have to ask you to open your hand, you just knew. But it was wrong. You had a boyfriend.

You said goodbye to Art at the entrance to your building, rather than your dorm. If Greg heard you talking out there, you’d be in for something for sure. “Thanks for coming out with me tonight-” you started. “I needed it.”

Art’s hands slunk into his pocket and he tilted his head just a little, “Yeah, about that. You’re doing okay?”

“Oh, yeah, my mood lately has been down, it’s nothing big. I’m just extra appreciative of anything that brings it back up.”

His eyes were understanding and a little apologetic. “If you want we can do something tomorrow? See a movie or play Scrabble or something stupid. We can get takeout? Takeout and going through Patrick’s Facebook and making fun of him.”

That made you grin. You scrunched your nose just a little, “That sounds good! Really good. I’ll call you tomorrow and I’ll let you know. I have to check with Greg.” Of course you did. Greg. Fuck. “But I’ll call you, I promise.”

“Okay,” he nodded. His gaze lingered on your lips. He wished they wouldn’t. He wished his mind wasn’t on who you were going back to after he said goodbye. He walked back to his dorm room in this perpetual state of angst and longing. There was no pain like it. Ever. In any part of his life he’d never known a greater emotional turmoil. You weren’t his. And he loved you, he didn’t even like you, he loved you and he knew it and you didn’t and there was nothing he could do.

He went back to his dorm and got into bed in his jeans and his shoes, not bothering to turn the light off, not bothering to pull the covers over himself. He just hugged his pillow and thought about you and it and everything until he fell asleep. You didn’t have that luxury.

“You’re late,” Greg said, sitting on your bed. He’d been smoking in your room, you could smell it. Potent and cheap, assaulting your nose. You’d give anything to walk out and not return, but this room was yours. If you left now, he’d have you back in your room with some threat or worse. “Care to tell me why?”

“I thought I was home early?” You set your bag down on the chair. “You said 11.”

“I said 10:30,” he replied.

“Did you?”

“Did I stutter?”

“No. Look, I’m tired, can we just go to bed?”

“Of course we can, doll,” he smirked a little bit evilly. You sighed, running your hand over the back of your neck. He wanted to fuck you. And you wanted to go to bed. “Come over here.”

“Greg, I’m tired,”

“Too tired?”

“Yes. I’m too tired. I’m just going to wash my face and go to bed.”

“Fuck you.”

“Greg, that’s uncalled for.” You said, standing your ground, just a little. “I’m just tired.”

He shook his head, “Yeah? You go out for hours and come back and don’t even want to fuck. Sounds an awful lot like you’re getting your fill somewhere else. Hm?”

You pressed your hand to your temple, “It means I’m tired, god, Greg, I’m not cheating.” And some voice in your head told you that you wished you were. “Please.” You slipped into the bathroom, locking the door, just in case. You washed your face and changed into your pajamas before getting in bed next to his heavy scent. As he wrapped an arm around your waist you thought maybe you could tune him out, but his hand slipped over your chest, coming to rest with your breast in his hand. You couldn’t pretend anything. He was himself. Even if you wished it was someone else, it wasn’t.

The next morning, he was gone. Where to? You had no idea. You were just glad. You spent the morning with windows open, cleaning your things, wiping down surfaces and sorting laundry, spraying air freshener. And it dawned on you to call Art. Greg wasn’t around. You hadn’t asked him, but you would make some excuse, maybe.

“Hey!” You greeted him, laying back on your bed, fresh sheets beneath you. “You still want to get takeout and make fun of Patrick’s facebook?”

Art walked to the side of the tennis court, his partner yelling at him to make it quick. He smiled, sitting on the bleachers. “Yeah, if you’re up for it. My dorm, around seven? Does that work?” His smile grew to a grin.

“That works,” you replied, smiling too. “Who is yelling at you right now?”

“My partner for singles today,” he answered with a chuckle. “He’s telling me to get back on the court.”

“Doesn’t he know you’re super busy making super important plans?”

He looked at his partner, frustrated in waiting on the court. “That’s what I’m saying.”

“Right?” You rolled onto your stomach. “I’ll let you get back to him, I’ll see you later, Art.”

“See you later, Y/N,” he said. You wished he didn’t have to go. You had nothing to do, Greg wasn’t around. Patrick was touring for another week before he came back around here. You decided to go out and meet up with some girlfriends for the afternoon. It was nice to be out and unbothered by having a set time to be home. There was no pressure. Greg didn’t call or text, not once, and it was a strange sort of peace. You talked to your friends about tennis and classes and their current crushes and it was fun and it was good. You retired back to your dorm around six thirty, showered, and did a little makeup. You were just about to leave to meet Art when Greg walked in.

It was like the light was sucked out of the room along with all the air. Or the fresh air. He smelled gross. He tasted worse, kissing you disgustingly. “Hey baby, I missed you,” he slurred. He needed to shave. “Where you headed?”

“Bea’s,” you replied. “She’s having a movie night.”

“Stay,” he breathed. “Missed you all day. Need to feel you.” He disgusted you. Hands on your chest with the door not even closed yet from his entry. “Come on, doll. Said no yesterday, can’t say no today.”

“No.”

“Don’t give me that attitude, come on. I’m being nice.”

“Greg, I have plans, I’m going to be late,” you tried to laugh it off nervously, but his hand was around your wrist in seconds. “Greg, please. Come on.”

He narrowed his eyes, “You’re staying. Bea can fucking wait. Don’t your little friends know that I’m more important than them? Jesus christ, the company you keep.”

You avoided his gaze. His hand slipped down to undo his belt. You debated running. He’d catch you, he was fast. You debated an argument. You didn’t want to fuck him, you didn’t want to have sex with him. He was expecting it more than wanting it. Like all you were was some object, some toy, some possession. His eyes were dark with lust and his words laced with alcohol. You were afraid of him. “Greg, I have to go. I’ll be back around eleven.”

“You’re not fucking going,” Greg made it known. Flat out. He shut the door behind him.

“I am. I made the plans, I can’t bail.”

“For me, yes you fucking can.” He said, pushing you back onto the bed. “Come on, Y/N. You’ll like it soon enough.”

“No. Greg. I’m serious. I have to go.”

“You know better than to talk back to me,” he warned. As if you were a dog. Or a child. “You don’t fucking listen? You’re not going out. Cut the attitude before you regret it.”

“Greg.”

“What did I fucking say?” He yelled, then dropped his voice. It was nasty, his breath, his tone. “I’m gonna fuck you and you’re gonna like it.”

“No-” his blow came like lightning through your body. A shock. A volt. And then the sting. “Greg, please-” another. And more. And then he left again. You couldn’t move. You didn’t want to, it hurt. Your ribs ached, your head pulsed. Your lip was bleeding. What could you do but cry and cry and cry? You wanted to call Art, you really did, but you knew if you cried on the phone he’d come over here and with Greg on the loose, it wasn’t a good idea. So you curled up into a ball and cried yourself to sleep.

Art sat in his dorm room waiting all night for you. Until about 2 am, when he gave up calling and texting and went to bed. You called him the next morning and he didn’t pick up.

You couldn’t reschedule for any day nearby because of your fat lip and new bruises. Greg came back and apologized like usual, dismissing the purple and blue on your face. His doing. His work. When he was in the bathroom, you called Art again, leaving a quiet voicemail.

“Art, I’m so sorry about my no-show last night. Something came up and I couldn’t make it and I’m so sorry I didn’t call or text. I feel like such an asshole. But next week, for sure. We’ll do whatever you want, my treat. I want to make it up to you, I feel terrible about this. Please call or text me when you get this. I’m sorry.”

Art gazed over his screen. He wasn’t sure how to feel. Loving you was choking him out and these no-shows and being late and canceling, it was just… too much. You were you and you were everything he could ever want, but you had other priorities, it seemed. He could want you all he wanted, wish for you as often as he could, but you didn’t wish the same. That was all he knew, not knowing the whole truth. Not calling him that night was one of the hardest things to do, but it was for safety.

You couldn’t even see Art if you wanted to for a few days. Not until the bruises faded enough to be covered by clever concealer. You wanted so desperately to go over to his dorm. You wanted to see your friends. Anything to feel better. Anything to get out of this fucking room, but you called in sick to your classes and worked on the material in your room, completely unable to really exist in the outside world. It was just you and Greg in this tiny little room. And he didn’t stop the aggression. You couldn’t escape it.

You called Art again when he left for an hour or two to go to the bar. You had stifled your crying, feeling so completely alone, needing to hear his voice. Maybe he’d save you for even a moment. He was the light, he made things better.

He picked up this time. “Hey.” It was singular, a little quiet.

“Art, hi,” you said. You weren’t sure why you were so overwhelmed with emotion at his simple greeting. “Did you get my messages? I left a voicemail, god, I’m so sorry for the other night. We made plans and I made a commitment but I got tangled up. I wanted to call, I’m so sorry I didn’t.” You gushed. “I understand if you’re angry. I know I promised you I wouldn’t do what I did, but you have to believe I didn’t mean to. And I’m really sorry.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I know.” He wasn’t sure what to say. What you did wasn’t okay, but it was you, so he’d always forgive. “I get it.” But he didn’t. “You have a boyfriend, I can’t expect you to be free all the time. It’s fine.” But it wasn’t.

“Art, really, I-”

“I forgive you. Just call me next time? Please.” His words were so easy, it hurt you. “I heard your voicemail, if you still want to make it up to me, I’m free Friday night. There’s a party, Patrick wants to go. You should come with us.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. A party would be hard to lie about. But it was Art and he was asking and you so desperately wanted to see him that you agreed. You agreed. And the conversation mellowed into something normal. Your usual conversation and banter, slight teases, and warm words. And it felt better. You had plans for Friday and that was that. You wouldn’t let anything or anyone stop you this time.

Getting ready for the party with Greg around sucked. You did your makeup modestly, you couldn’t look too nice or he’d stop you from leaving. The concealer didn't quite cover the bruise, but your lip had healed over pretty nicely. The dim lighting would be your friend for sure. You put on a long skirt over a mid-length one. You couldn’t be too careful, he once called a skirt slightly above the knee slutty. And you wore a dollar store t-shirt over your black tank top.

“Where are you going?” Greg asked.

“Sleepover at Bea’s, remember?” You said. You loved lying to him. It was the best you could get away with. “You said I could go.”

“Yeah. It’s fine. Talk to you later.” He didn’t make you stay or make you kiss him goodbye, which was a relief. You walked over to Art’s dorm with what felt like pep in your step. You didn’t have to be home at any certain time, you were free to roam, to have fun. Greg wouldn’t know. Greg couldn’t know. Patrick let you into Art’s room. He’d been debriefed on the stunt you pulled, but he couldn’t hold it against you.

“You look like you’re going to church,” he remarked, looking over your outfit.

Art peered over from where he sat, “Amish?”

You chuckled, pulling the shirt off over your head. Both boys were a little taken aback as you tossed the shirt to Art’s laundry. “Not quite.” You undid the button on the side of your skirt and took that off as well, revealing the shorter skirt underneath. You were beautiful, Art thought. He always thought it. But that was because you always were. Wanting you was hard and disruptive and wrong, he reminded himself. But you stood there and everything reminded him of just how fucked he was. Head over heels for a taken girl. Both of them were too distracted to pay attention to the covered-up bruise on your outer thighs. They didn’t pay close enough attention to the multitude of bracelets that covered the bruised fingerprints on your wrist. Your face was another story. Another lie.

Art’s mouth was just a little open, watching you shed the outer layer of clothes. Patrick tossed you a shooter. “So what’s with the coverup?”

You thought he meant your makeup over the bruise on your face and you held your breath for a half-second. He meant the clothes. “Oh, Greg wouldn’t like me out in a skirt and tank top.” You tried not to cringe at the words. Were they telling?

“Why does Greg have a say in that?” Patrick replied, leaning forward in his chair just a little. Art looked away, he had to. His face would say something he didn’t want you to know. Patrick was overstepping, he couldn’t bear that either.

You unscrewed the cap of the shooter, “He’s not… I don’t know. But I don’t give a fuck, I’m going out anyway,” you said, trying to ignore that line of questioning. “I’m in the skirt and the shirt. Thoughts?” You did a little spin. Art couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You were so perfect it hurt. It hurt.

“Hot.” Patrick nodded. He unscrewed his own shooter, standing and grabbing one to pass to Art. Art pushed past his thoughts and the three of you did a little ‘cheers’, downing the small bottles. You would take hot. Hot was good. Hot was the opposite of how you were feeling. Greg made you feel so gross, it was hard to be anything else. And with staying cooped up in your room, bruised and marinating in the feeling of being ugly- so hot was good. He said what Art was thinking. It was a little less than he thought, but it was a good summary.

The three of you headed out soon after, drinking on the way. You were leaning on Art as you walked, the three of you laughing at some inside joke. Your laugh was beautiful and rang out in the street. With the soft buzz of alcohol in his head, on his skin, you were an angel. You were always an angel, bathed in streetlight. And your hand was around his bare forearm and boundaries with you were always blurry but this felt odd. He was enjoying it, it was wrong, but he was letting it pass with the excuse of the alcohol. Your hand was so soft on his skin, the perfect temperature, perfect everything. When were you not perfect?

“Okay so Patrick is set on bringing a girl back- but bringing a girl back where?” You laughed, turning onto one of the little pathways between the rented residencies.

“I don’t think he’s thought that far ahead,” Art chuckled, nudging Patrick just a little. Patrick raised his hands in surrender, both hands filled with shooters. His pockets were also full. “You were going to say my dorm room, weren’t you?”

“Nasty,” you teased. “Poor Art. He sleeps in that bed, you know.”

“Uh-huh. You’re one to talk, you’ve always got some form of hickey on your neck, you don’t even try to hide it. Me, nasty? You.” Your hand immediately flew to the side of your neck. “Sit with that one.”

Art’s heart always fell at the mention of it. Every time, without fail. You moved away from him just slightly at the mention. You would usually have a retort to something like that. But you didn’t. Your hand just stayed on the side of your neck, covering the fingerprint bruises you didn’t know were visible. You pulled your hair over it. “Pass me another shooter, please.”

Art, sweet, feeling pretty shitty over the way he was viewing you, stayed quiet. Mostly. Until you were just outside the party. Patrick pat him on the shoulder, heading in right away. Art, sweet, stopped you with the extension of his arm. “You’re quiet.” He said.

“So were you,” you replied.

“Just wondering if you’re okay?” He said. Posing it as a question. “You’ve seemed upset since we were at mine, I just wanted to know before we go in there and it’s too loud and I get too drunk to ask.”

“You’ve never been too drunk you ask,” you smiled. You were standing a little bit close to him, your toes inches from touching. “You got soooo drunk at the Miller’s party last year and you still asked me if I was having fun. I wasn’t and we left and you threw up, remember?”

“I don’t,” he chuckled, eyes soft. But he nodded, “You’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. I need more to drink and I want to find Bea and dance. My plans. Your plans?”

“Drink and save women from Patrick,” he nodded, his grin coming back.

You, just a little clouded from alcohol, pressed your palm to the side of his face just for a second. “You’re a saint, Art Donaldson.” He felt his skin flush. Your hand slipped away and went down his forearm once again, pulling him into the party. It was natural you let go of him, Art made a beeline for Patrick who was already talking to some girl. She was weird, flirted with Art too once he showed up.

You needed to lie to Greg more often, you thought, taking a shot from some girl you shared a 3pm class with. Bea’s hands on your hips, dancing together, hands raised over your heads. This was living, this was uncontrolled, unbridled by any abuse, any threat. You could have fun and not feel guilty about it after. Greg had too much trust in a girl he hit. You felt- though you weren’t- free. Just a little bit.

Art watched you with Bea, watched the way you moved. He was out of it. Just a little. Not too drunk at all. But enough. Numb, watching you. Hard, watching you. He hid a little behind Patrick to hide it, watching your hips sway, watching how close you and your best friend were. He couldn’t have cared less about Bea. Just you.

He should have told you he liked you in high school. Not saying anything had to be one of the biggest regrets of his entire life. You were perfect for him in every way and you were warm and inviting and you were witty and fun and you knew each other like the backs of your hands and it would have been worth it to tell you. He knew that, looking at you, that it would have been easiest to tell you when he still could. He was bitter about it. A missed chance. Patrick told him he’d regret it and watching you under purple lights, he knew Patrick had been right. It was all bullshit.

Patrick suddenly grabbed Art’s arm pretty hard, yanking him closer, “That guy over there. That’s Greg, right?” He said, voice low even in the loudness of the party. He gestured over to the guy in the weird sweater and jeans, leaned up against the wall, arm hanging above a short hardly-dressed girl. Faces close. So close. Noses touching kind of close.

“Oh, fuck,” Art breathed, eyes locked on them, watching Greg’s hand touch just under this girl’s chin. You didn’t know Greg was there, that was apparent. But of course, the dirtbag was. Art’s heart pounded hard in his chest. He looked back at Patrick, whose expression was filled with hatred. As it should be because what the fuck? Regardless of how much he was rooting for Art, always rooting for Art, Greg was still the guy you were with. Your boyfriend. And he was with someone else.

“I need a reason not to fuck him up right now,” Patrick said. “What the fuck do we do?”

“I don’t know.” Art answered truthfully. “She doesn’t know he’s here, he doesn’t know she’s here.”

Patrick shook his head, tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, visibly pissed off. At least Patrick could be pissed off, Art’s stomach was just in knots. It was almost nonsensical. No way he would cheat on you. You? You were everything, you were gorgeous in all ways and you had a personality. How could he cheat? He looked back over at Greg in a liplock with this other girl and the anger did rise, but his eyes fell back on you and it eased. This was fucked all around. Every bit of this was fucked up. “We have to tell her, we can’t keep it to ourselves.”

“I agree but how are we going to say it? We’re in a crowd of people, it’s not exactly fun news.”

“Fucking asshole. I’m pissed. He’s slobbering all over that girl like a fucking dog. You know, I should…”

Art couldn’t keep listening to Patrick’s rant. He didn’t even want to look back at Greg. But Greg was very obviously invested in his cheating schemes. Art wondered how long he’d been doing it to you. How long had this guy been cheating? Did you not satisfy him? How could you not satisfy him, you sported hickeys so often and you were late to meet up and it was all sickening, but it didn’t add up. This guy was the world's most unsatisfied, apparently. It, he, was disgusting. Art felt his face crinkle up just thinking about it, but he had to now. Your feelings were in the balance here.

“- in the face. Knock his goatee right off. Art. Art, I’m telling her.”

“Patrick, give me a fucking second,” Art said, holding a hand up. He looked back at you, Bea pouring a shot in your mouth. You were smiling. Grinning. And you were beautiful and he hated the idea that you’d stop soon. Fuck. Neither of you deserved this. Not you, not Art. “We’ll tell her it’s time to go and then we’ll tell her outside, no bullshit.”

Patrick nodded, “This is bad.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m so fucking angry.”

“I know.” Art’s heart was leaping out of his chest. He held his hand out and Patrick dug in his pocket for a stronger shooter. Art drank it all quickly, letting it burn his throat. His heart didn’t slow even a bit. “Fuck.”

Patrick leaned over to the girl who he’d just been talking to, saying something about having to leave. Art watched her roll her eyes and walk away. It was fair, she’d been standing there for a bit listening to him trash talk your boyfriend. Art rubbed his eyes, trying to sober up just a little, but after that shooter, it was a little bit pointless. Regret seemed to be a theme around here. “He’s gone.” Patrick said. Art let the fuzz from rubbing his eyes melt and sure enough, Greg wasn’t where he was before. Just a little panicked, he set his eyes on you. There he was, towering over you, rage in his eyes. It was clear to Art what was going through your head, he knew you too well, you were cowering. Patrick was still scanning the crowd for Greg, but Art watched as Greg’s fingers locked onto your upper arm and he yanked you so hard that your shoulder went funny for a second.

Art, a little shocked, watching him drag you out of sight. And he launched into action. He started into the sea of people dancing, drinking, leaving Patrick behind. Patrick was faced the other way, by the time Art was absorbed into the crowd, it was a little late to find even him. Art pushed through people, trying to keep his sight on you, but he lost you in it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mumbled. He’d never seen anyone grab anyone the way Greg just grabbed you. It was violent and harsh and the way it happened, it couldn’t have been good in any way. He pushed through people, accidentally pushing a guy as he passed him, the guy went to push back but Art just darted out of the way. He made his way to the door, you weren’t around it, so you had to have left.

“Art Donaldson, my man,” one of his tennis buddies greeted him, stepped in front of him and Art just stepped around him, trying to find you. You, where were you? His heart rate was raised higher than he’d ever felt it. Rapid, as if he’d run a mile. He ran out onto the street, looking around, but there wasn’t any sight of you. What he would do when he found you, he had no idea, he just knew he needed to find you. Nobody just grabbed someone like that with good intentions.

Greg wasn’t a good guy and he knew that, he just thought it was his bias. That maybe he was overreacting, but it didn’t look so much that way now. “Greg, please!” You yelled from his left. Art turned his head to see two figures head into one of the thin alleyways between buildings. He could hear a man speaking back to you, Greg, obviously, but his voice was too much of a growl to understand. Art started jogging toward the sound, cautiously. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, okay, I’m sorry I lied,” you cried out.

“Little fucking whore. Lie to me to go party with your friends? Dance on some fucking guy, cheat one me? That’s what you wanted?” Art’s heart was about to break his ribs. He ran just a little faster.

“No, fuck, Greg, stop! I was with Bea, I was with Bea!”

“At a fucking party. If you wanted to be a slut you could have said so. Fucking lying to me, you’re disgusting. Fucking bitch.”

“Greg!”

“Don’t even start talking back to me now! You’re a lying, cheating whore who deserves to be treated like one!”

Art was almost there, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. “Greg, don’t fucking touch me. I’m dead serious, I’ll scream. Get off me, get off me you asshole!”

The sound of the blow made Art’s entire body go cold. He felt himself drain of colour, he felt his heart stop for just a second. It was a sickening noise. The entirety of him tensed up to a point he felt like a coiled spring, his chest tight, ribs pressing in. He hit you, that was the sound of him hitting you, he hit you. Art made it over and came at Greg with a surprising force, shoving him off of you and onto the ground. He was drunk, it was easy to do. Your hand grabbed Art’s upper arm, but missed as Art’s body followed through with the movement.

“What the fuck?!” Greg exclaimed. You moved behind Art, backward, away. Tears streamed down your face, you were choking on sobs, cradling the side of your face with one hand and your upper arm with the other. Art stepped back with you. He was so angry he himself couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t look at you, he kept his eyes on Greg, breathing hard. Shoving was tame, shoving him off of you was going to have to be enough, Art wasn’t violent. The shock of all this hadn’t settled, it wouldn’t settle. “Who the fuck are you, tough guy?” Greg advanced on Art who was nimble, but between anti-car poles, stuck. Shoved against the wall, he just avoided having his head hit the wall by putting his hand up.

“Art!” You yelled. “Greg, stop! GREG!” You screamed, you hoped someone would come. You hoped someone would call the cops.

“Art fucking Donaldson, huh?” Greg smirked, face close to Art’s. “You been fucking my girlfriend? Hm? This the one, Y/N, really? Just friends my ass, you probably came here with him.”

“Fuck you,” Art seethed. Greg was bigger than him.

“Get off of him, Greg, I’m begging you, don’t hurt him!”

Greg fumed, “Used me to get over him, huh? Big-eared, fuckass, twinkie little pretty boy, here?”

“Shut up!” You yelled. Your head pounded, your skin stung. “Stop. Now. I’ll call the police, I’ll get someone to call the police, Greg, get off of him!”

Art shoved Greg backward again, but he just walked right back. “I don’t want to fight you.” Art said, his eyes dark. “Fuck off. Leave her alone, fuck off.”

“He’s playing prince charming, Y/N. You’ve been fucking him on the side. Yeah, that’s why you never put out, you slut. Getting his pathetic skinny boy dick on the side.” Art kneed Greg in the groin, pushing him off again and stepping over to you. “Oh, you’re fucking dead.” His eyes burned with rage and he came at Art with a pouncing force, grabbing him and bringing him down to the ground. You screamed, watching Greg tackle Art to the pavement. The brawl began, Greg holding Art down, trying to punch him but being blocked. Art wasn’t violent, he was avoiding hurting Greg. For you. For your sake. You had no choice, you had to intervene. What was a few more bruises? You tried to push Greg off, but he kept at it, trying to hurt Art.

“Hey! Hey, what the fuck!” It was Patrick and he dragged you out of this with too much ease, putting you to the side and going right back to push Greg off of Art and onto his back. A bystander behind Patrick had their phone out, calling 911, thank god. You watched in pure shock, Art get punched in the shoulder rather than the head and in a swift blow, Patrick punched Greg in the jaw. And he went limp. You grabbed Art, you grabbed whatever you could on him, his shirt, his opposite shoulder, on your knees. He looked at you with eyes sadder than you’d ever seen them. You moved closer.

His hand reached up to your face desperately but also gently, despite the adrenaline pumping through his veins. “You’re okay? You’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” you nodded a little too much, looking him over just as he looked you over, noting the way your cheekbone was bleeding. He really hit you. “God, are you okay? I’m so sorry, Art, I’m so sorry.” You were crying a steady stream of tears, lip trembling, and you were still so beautiful.

“Don’t be sorry, don’t be sorry,” he said, trying to wipe your tears a little more desperately than he had just done. “He hit you, he hurt you, how-”

“I wanted to tell you. I was scared. I was so scared he’d do something awful. I don’t love him, I don’t want him, I want you. I want you, I’ve wanted you.” You blurted, sobbing just a little more. Art messily moved your hair out of your face. “Art, I-” You were crying so hard, it was hard to breathe. “I couldn’t leave him.” You looked over at Patrick shaking his hand out, at Greg’s unconscious self. Hands gentle, he turned your head away from it.

Art’s lips were just a little parted, eyes looking over the damage to your face. “How long has he been?”

“A long time,” you swallowed hard. “Three months in, maybe two- two and a half.” You said, biting your lip trying to stop crying. “I wanted to leave him. I wanted to so badly, but I couldn’t. He’s- he’s why I didn’t show up those times, I wanted to be there, but he’d… he was… I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry, you have nothing to be sorry for, this isn’t your fault,” he said, bracing you with soft hands. “It’s okay. He’s not getting close to you ever again, Patrick is making sure of that.”

“He was right about the using him part, I was using him to get over you and it was- wrong. It was wrong and he started hurting me and then it was too late to get out.”

In the heat of the moment, your ‘I want you’s had slipped past him. He wanted to make sure you were okay, he wasn’t focused on that. You were blurting things out, he’d missed it. His eyebrows furrowed, he lowered his head just a bit, “Over me? What do you mean?” His judgment also wasn’t the best. But it didn’t matter. You sat up just a little, still clinging onto his clothes, hands shaking. With Greg out, going to be out of the picture the words just spilled from your mouth. Rolling off your tongue in light of what was soon to be true freedom.

“I’ve wanted you forever, god, it kills me that I never said anything. It’s you, it’s been you, I don’t know why I thought I could ever try and be with anyone to forget that. It’s just, you’ve never…”

“What? No, no. I’ve liked you since I met you, we were twelve, it was bad and it’s been you. You never said anything either-” the sound of a cop car approaching interrupted. “You liked me?”

“Yes! So much. Too much, sometimes. God, I’m so stupid.” You were crying still, even more now. “You just… you never said anything, so I never said anything and then I got stuck, but it never stopped. It’s bad, it’s so bad, I probably love you, it’s awful.” The alcohol was still running the conversation.

“That is awful,” Art chuckled just a little bit. On the pavement with you, cop car approaching, lights flashing. This conversation would be over in a minute. Your eyes met his, sad, angry, mutual thoughts and mutual expressions.

“It’s bad?” You smiled just a little through your tears.

He grinned just a little, “I've been in love with you for as long as I've known what being in love feels like”

Art’s thumb wiped your tears with a little less desperation now. His heart and yours were still beating hard. “That’s so bad, that’s six years,”

“I know.” He said, grinning his wide crooked grin. The conversation had strayed from the real problem, but it was a good distraction. A welcomed one, in fact. Proof that things could and would be better. “It’s okay. Are you going to be okay?”

“I’m going to be okay,” you nodded. The policemen, two of them walked over and began their spiel, asking about what happened and Art helped you to your feet. The night was still young, the persecution was easy to figure and a diary you kept detailing his abuse was a great help to the case. You, Patrick, and Art all spent the night at the police station with forms and questions and people trying to get a grasp on the situation. A blurry security camera was also a great amount of help. Greg was charged properly, put away. It was easy to see who was the real problem. You sat with ice to your face in one of the police chairs, being offered therapy and counseling and numbers to call for trauma and crisis. Everyone was so sweet, one of the policewomen held your hand for a good while until it stopped shaking.

You still cried a lot. Sorry that everyone had to go through this just because you couldn’t leave a guy. Just because you had tried to forget your feelings for Art in someone else. But the words, ‘it’s not your fault’ were thrown around a lot. And that you’d be safe. And it felt good to know. You’d sobered back up, obviously. So did the boys. You had the most extensive questioning, the boys waited in the main room.

“All the excuses, the ball to the face, the stairs…” Patrick sighed heavily, staring forward into a void.

“It was him.” Art nodded. “I feel like such an idiot, how the fuck did I not know? I know her better than myself, she hid it and I didn’t want to think about her and Greg. It was… it hurt.” He admit. Patrick looked over at Art.

“He’s gone. He won’t hurt her again. If he tries, best believe I’m doing more than knocking his ass out. I can’t fucking believe this shit. I’m glad I got off, but jesus fucking christ, I wish I’d done enough to be behind those bars.”

“No you don’t,” Art sighed, leaning forward into his hands. “Fuck. I didn’t even fight back.”

“You’re not that kind of guy,” Patrick reasoned. “Which is fine. You got him off her, that was all you needed to do.”

“I guess, but… fuck.”

“She told you she wanted you,” He reminded Art with a slight sly smile on his lips. He gave Art a gentle little push off the shoulder. As if Art had been able to stop thinking about it. He’d sobered up just the same and the confession might have been badly timed, but at least it happened. He meant it, he hoped you did too. He was trying not to let it eat him alive alongside the fact your now-ex hit you and he hadn’t known. Maybe he missed the other clues? How did he not know? “She likes you too. It’s all you’ve wanted.”

“I know,” Art sighed. “After that, though?”

“Means she’s yours.”

Art looked up and met Patrick’s eyes, trying to verify if he meant it. As if Patrick was the dictator. But Patrick was only the reality. The gravity of the situation hung above him, but you were in front of him, free from the questioning. Your cheeks were pink and tear-stained still and your eyelashes were still wet. Patrick tipped his head toward you to gesture to Art and the second Art saw you, he was on his feet. His eyes were wide like a doe’s, hands in his pockets.

He met you halfway down the blue-painted precinct hallways. Your eyes said more than words did as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He pulled you in the rest of the way into a hug that had more sincerity and life than the walls had ever seen. His arms wrapped around your waist, grabbing onto the fabric of your shirt on your sides, holding you tight and close. He kissed your shoulder, his chin resting in your hair. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He mumbled. You shut your eyes for a moment, allowing him to envelop you in his arms. He held you so tight, it felt like he was keeping you from falling to pieces. It would take you a while to get over all of this, but right now, it felt like you’d be okay.

He was refreshingly cold, the precinct was warm and you’d been upset, so of course you were warm. He held you for a minute or maybe five. Nobody had to use the hallway and anyone who did just went back around. Patrick didn’t watch, instead, he went to the counter to ask about getting a ride back to campus.

Eventually, you pulled away from the hug. Not entirely, just almost. His arms slid over your back, his grip just loosening, not leaving. In fact you didn’t get very far in pulling away. Your heart beat fast in your chest. Even in the upset, even after the fact, Art was still your peace. He was quiet and he held you as long as you needed him to. He was always there and you knew he would be. With everything that happened just then, with that confession… Your forehead pressed against his. Gentle. Safe. You were safe. You felt safer here, like this, than you did in that room with the officers who asked you so many things.

You looked at him through your eyelashes. He must have read your mind, he must have known you too well. With a tilt of your heads, your lips met. There was the slightest, softest bit of hesitation, but it was soothed over in seconds, your hand sliding to cup Art’s cheek. He pulled you back in with slow, easy hands that didn’t grab too hard. The kiss was patient, calculated, and warm. It sent what felt like tiny sparks through all of your veins leaving goosebumps in their wake. It felt like completion, like a satisfying end to a movie, like putting a book back on the shelf after reading it. It was easy to kiss him, your heart slowed for the first time as his pace matched yours. However, out of understanding, the kiss wasn’t too long. Maybe a minute, nothing more.

You’d been through something. He couldn’t be the one to fix all of that, but he’d be there for you until it felt better. Stepping in now felt wrong, felt like it was one thing to another. You needed the time to yourself. Art didn’t kiss you again for another five months. All of which were spent the way they usually were, aside from being a little closer than usual and hanging out so much more. You were free to do as you pleased. Free to see him. Free to stay home- and you spent a good amount of your time alone healing. Physically and mentally.

Patrick was often around to help you laugh it off, but when you needed to cry, Art was always right there. After some time, you were feeling like yourself again. And you were laughing too much, smiling all the time again, spinning in a new skirt and crashing into Art. Who you then kissed, after so much time thinking about it, replaying it, wanting it again. It was finally okay to do so. After seven years, it was only fitting that he welcomed it, fully, and entirely. You were giggling, your lips pressed to his, and he knew it was okay. There was no bruise on your cheekbone to be cautious of, both of his hands held your face, your head tilted back just a little as he kissed you the way you were meant to be kissed. The way Greg couldn’t. It would never mean so much.

Greg was in your past, but Art was your past. And your future, now. Because now that you had each other, neither of you was going to let go. He promised you that between kisses. You promised it back.

taglist: @swetearss @lalalandofive @reallycreativeusername @kaaaiiaaa @ladystardust-thinks @ke4s @ellzbellz18

#challengers #art donaldson #patrick zweig #tinytennisskirt #challengers x reader #challengers fic #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson fluff #art donaldson fic #art donaldson angst #art donaldson imagine #challengers fanfic

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cat-in-a-box13 · 3 months ago

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Twisters Headcanons Pt 4

Cathy uses affectionate pet names for everyone, and Javi and Kate have picked up on that

For example, she calls Kate Katie-Kat, Javi is Sweetheart, Addy was Lovely, Jeb was Jeb-Baby, and Praveen was Honey.

Javi alternates between calling Cathy by her name and calling her mom. The first time it was an accident, but she didn't even bat an eye, so after a while it became more normal.

After tornado season ends, the Wranglers decide to relocate their base to Oklahoma, partially because Oklahoma has a higher frequency of tornadoes, and partially because it is very clear to everyone that Kate and Javi belong in Oklahoma. They were already planning to make this move anyway, (which is why they were chasing in Oklahoma during the movie), but they deliberately choose a garage that's only 30 minutes away from the Carter farm.

Javi and Kate usually drive to "work" (because it's not really work for them, it's more like a dream come true) together, mostly because Kate doesn't trust Javi behind the wheel in the morning until he's had at least one cup of coffee.

It's very clear in the garage what spaces belong to which people.

Boone's station is complete chaos. There's video equipment and snacks everywhere, along with various merchandise samples and things like that.

Lily's space is similarly a mess, and it spreads over into Dani's station right next to her. Dani is a lot more organized, and has all of her tools labeled so that they don't get lost in Lily's disaster when they're working together.

Dexter is the most organized out of all of them. Everything is color-coded. Dani drives him crazy because she never puts things back correctly. This is because Dani is colorblind, something Dexter knows, but he hasn't connected the dots yet. Dani thinks it's hilarious, and is waiting to see how long it takes before it finally clicks.

Tyler and Kate started out having separate stations, but they merged together by the end of the first month. Tyler attempts to keep some kind of order, but as soon as Kate goes pawing through a stack of papers to find something, he gives up. The only thing that really separates their sides is that Tyler also has merchandise samples on his side that Kate refuses to touch, because if Javi ever sees her drinking out of a mug with Tyler's face on it, she will never live it down.

Javi's station is controlled chaos. He knows exactly where everything is, but no one else has any idea where to even start. Like Lily, he can tell whenever someone touches his stuff, even if they think they put it back correctly. He also keeps a secret stash of Skittles in his desk for when Kate starts to get frustrated.

#twisters #twisters 2024 #kate carter #tyler owens #boone twisters #javi twisters #Dani twisters #lily twisters #dexter twisters #Cathy carter

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sugarlywhispers · 1 year ago

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ex!b.katsuki x reader ; m.izuku x reader — bakugou cheats on his gf, with midoriya's girlfriend.

☆– warnings; ANGST. mention and description of panic attacks, swear words, cheating (bakugou to reader; uraraka to midoriya).

☆–a.n; so here it is! a continuation to THIS DRABBLE. i honestly didn't plan it, but @imaginationmess started brainstorming with me about this a few weeks ago and i couldn't get it out my head! thank you, sweets💕 i hope you like this, even tho i still owe you that villain!bakugou drabble~🙃 i'll work on it soon, i promise~

☆–a.n; also, i decided to split it in several parts. i don't know tho how many parts there will be. i have at least two more parts already written. we will see...😉 don't worry, each link to the parts will be organized in my masterlist♡

The noise around makes you a bit jumpy. It's been weeks since you've been out of your apartment since that day you finally broke down in front of your best friend Mineta Minoru, after Kats-Bakugou finally picked his stuff out of your home.

You're sitting in a little coffee shop close to where you live, waiting. The chattering, the laughs, the kids playing and screaming, the cars and buses that drive outside, everything feels heavy on your chest as it pulls up and down fastly thanks to your breathing. You know what this is, it's not the first time it happened.

Panic attacks.

You've been having them again since he left.

And you hate them. You hate him for being the reason they appeared again. The first time it happened Mineta had finally convinced you to go out and have some ramen with him late at night after his shift. You accepted, even though you felt your body weak and heavy, only wanting to stay in bed and keep sleeping. Least to say, it ended with Mineta carrying you in his arms, your body trembling non-stop and feeling like you were choking, dying.

But right now, Mineta is not here. And you can feel your throat being closed, like someone was grabbing you by your neck with each breath you take and slowly but firmly putting pressure, until you could breathe no more.

And just when it's about to happen, when you know you're about to make a scene in front of all these people, when the darkness is making its presence in your sight, that he enters the coffee shop.

You don't know why but seeing Midoriya Izuku after so many weeks since you told him the truth, seeing him stand there at the door, a black hoodie that says "HOODIE" in the front and jeans and his typical red trainers as he scans the whole place until his green eyes find yours and smiles openly at you, seeing him walk towards you and getting bigger with each step he takes in your direction –was he ever that big and tall?–, seeing him say "hi" politely to some people who recognized the Number One Pro Hero under the hoodie as he walks inside the place.

Just seeing him… it takes the pressure off your neck. You can breathe again.

"Hi, Y/N, sorry I'm a bit late," he greets with a shiny smile as he sits in front of you. "I had to finish some paperwork from the night patrol."

You open your eyes wide, "Y-you-" your voice sounds throaty and rough, so you clear your throat. He frowns, watching your neck, but he respectfully waits for you to continue, eyes back on yours, watching you with kindness. "You had night patrol? If I knew, I wouldn't have bothered‐…"

"Oh, no! You didn't bother me at all! You're never a bother, Y/N." His smile is radiant, it's been so long since you had seen someone smile that way in your direction. You feel bad for Mineta. When was the last time he had smiled in your presence? A real, genuine smile. You forgot. "I was hoping you got my message and that you would answer, on your time. But you did answer." You look down, you think his smiles will make you go blind because of its shine.

It was two weeks ago–or three?, you feel like you lost track of time, being on your bed and only getting up when Mineta forced his way into your apartment to make you eat or shower. It's been a while since Midoriya left that message to go grab coffee together. And he had been waiting, and you just now answered.

"I'm sorry… I needed…"

"Time, I know. Me too. It took me a while to process everything. I didn't want to get up off my bed, I barely ate… We both needed time."

You look up at him again and you see him swallow thick, like it's difficult for him to talk about it. And you get it. Fuck, thinking about it only makes you want to cry again. You get it. So you pull one of your hands that were grabbing the cloth of your pants tightly in order to help ground yourself a few moments ago when the panic attack was almost on the surface, and grab his that is laying on the table in front that separates you both.

He looks at it for a moment, your thumb caressing the scars on his hand like it's nothing, and when he looks back up, you try to smile reassuringly.

Everything is going to be okay. You are going to be okay, that's what Mineta tells you every day he goes to check on you. You started to believe he says that aloud to reassure himself more than you, seeing how you didn't have the force to even feed yourself some days and he had to do it. It took you a few days ago, when you tried to reach your phone, you had to get up from the bed and when you did, your legs gave up, making you fall straight to the floor, hitting your chin so hard you think you bit your own tongue as you tasted blood in your mouth. How was this you? Did he really have so much power over you that turned you into this corpse that couldn't even get up to reach the damn phone? Fuck no. You decided it was enough. You decided you were going to be okay.

You know your smile it's not the prettiest or most comforting at the moment, but you try. You try for Midoriya, before saying, "We are going to be okay."

His eyes fill with tears, so visible it makes you want to hold him, protect him–and he's freaking Hero Deku, the most powerful hero on Earth and the Symbol of Hope for humankind. Yet, you can't avoid feeling. Feeling that he doesn't deserve anything that happened. Feeling that he deserves so much happiness and kindness, and he hasn't had that in a long while apparently. It's frustrating watching him break, even this little as he doesn't let the tears escape his eyes and smiles back at you.

Two hours pass and Midoriya and you are still in that coffee shop, chatting animatedly, laughing even. Remembering old times, talking about the present and the future, and about the friends that connected you both.

It feels like… a rush of fresh, cold wind after a hot and humid summer day. You have been so used to the hot, the fire, you forgot that cool, fresh relief existed.

Your phone starts ringing in your little bag and you search it as Midoriya laughs at something you said about Mineta.

"And it doesn't end there…"

"Oh my God, it doesn't? What else could Mineta have done to Bakugou? I understand now why Shoto had to be called in to assist him. Mineta was faking stuff so he wouldn't help him… Genius." You see the tears at the corner of his eyes, but this time they are from laughing. And you find yourself thinking you like that better than the previous tears.

You shake your head, smiling, "He started leaving his purple sticky balls under Bakugou's car wheels." That's it. Midoriya laughs so hard it makes everyone look in your direction. But you don't mind, for the first time in a long while, you don't mind people's attention on you. Midoriya's there. And he's laughing. He is laughing.

Life seems a bit brighter.

You pick up the call without really looking who it is. "Hello?" You talk in between laughs.

"Y/N? Oh, where… Where are you? I came to the apartment and freaked out when I couldn't find you!" Mineta says, a bit agitated. But you can't avoid laughing again given that the person you were just talking about with Midoriya called you, it is such a funny timing. You signal with a finger to your phone looking at Midoriya and word 'Mineta', which makes him laugh even harder. Midoriya understood the funny timing too. "Are those laughs? Are you laughing?!"

"Sorry… Yes. I'm with Midoriya. We came to grab a coffee."

You can hear Mineta's surprise, you can even picture his eyebrows pulling up high. "Midoriya? As in… Midoriya Izuku?"

"Yes, love, Midoriya Izuku." That makes the green-headed man in front of you shut a bit and look down at his hands. Weird.

"Ow, you haven't called me love in a while… I'm gonna cry," you roll your eyes at your best friend's dramatics.

"Shut up. Do you need something? I'll be back in a bit."

"Oh, no, bun. I just came to bring you lunch and then I have to sign in. I'll probably be on shift until late at night so I made sure I cooked enough so you have leftovers for dinner too."

You smile. Your heart feels warm, and you can't help but think you have one hell of a best friend.

"I love you."

"Oh, I'm definitely crying now."

You chuckle, "Take care today, okay?"

"Always am, bun. Have fun with Midoriya, but I can already tell you are..." You can hear the suggestive tone, and you want to punch him.

"Shut up."

"I love you."

"I love you too. Bye."

You end the call and look at Midoriya. He's not smiling anymore, just looking at his hands. His fingers fidgeting with each other, his mind clearly in thought.

"Sorry, I didn't tell Mineta where I was going today. He was worried…"

"Oh, yeah, no problem."

It sounds like there is, so you try to dissipate the tension you don't know what produced it.

"You want to know what else Mineta did?"

Midoriya looks up, eyes open wide, smile returning to his face, "There's more?!"

You nod, also smiling. "He once even left them inside the car, messing up with the engine."

"Oh my God! That's why Bakugou asked for another hero to assist him from now on!" Midoriya laughs again. You shake your head and he stops mid-laugh. "That's… It's not? Then what-...?"

"Do you really want to know?" You raise an eyebrow, sounding cheeky and challenging.

His stance changes, you see a spark in his eyes you have never seen before. He smirks and rests his elbows over the table and gets closer to you, his eyes connected to yours, as he murmurs almost in a low tone whisper, "Tell me."

You can feel your cheeks warmer under his gaze, but find the courage to copy his action and get closer to him, even closer to his ear to whisper in a secret.

"Mineta left cockroaches on the copilot seat, for when Uraraka entered the car."

You back away a bit to look at his face. He looks completely surprised, before throwing his head back and laughing so so hard, completely forgetting they are in a public space.

You laugh too, but because he is laughing so lively. You decide then that you'll try that more. Make him laugh.

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catsoupki · 7 months ago

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CHP. ONE | INEBRIATION QUENCHES THE THIRST

SUMMARY: Katsuki has settled into a routine-like dance with you ever since your debut as a hero. He takes care of you like harmonious clockwork, but as he peels layer after layer, he’s caught up with his own tantalising feelings when he finds your blood staining his hands. You teach him, slowly, of what it means to fall in love.

TAGS: pro hero au, fem reader, banter, hurt/comfort, eventual smut (ch4)

CHAPTER LENGTH: 2,754 | SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT CHP.

“You look like shit.” Bakugou stalks into the room just to catch you in your most vulnerable moment— you only had concealer applied to your face. “You insulted the wrong person, babe.” You shoot back before muttering a small ‘sorry’ to the angel of a woman that was doing your make-up, who shakes her head with a soft smile while muttering something about puppy love. You roll your eyes. Bakugou clicks his tongue before falling down on the seat beside you with a heavy thud. “You letting yourself go that soon, Kats?” The nickname you’ve given him doesn’t properly sound as your makeup artist, Tanaka, was it? covers your lips with some scrub.

You celebrate your victory of the day as he only answers with a tch. He glares at the poor soul assigned to do his make-up for the event through the mirror, before his gaze shifts towards you.

You look stunning, as always. Not that he’d admit it, ever. You look like you fit the title “Number Four Hero”. Wearing only a flimsy vest, your collarbones were exposed as you sat in the make-up chair. The lighting at the studio only further accentuated the curves of your arms— forcing him to will his eyes to meet anything else before you catch him, and he certainly, most definitely does not want to endure your teasing, and for the record, your teasing absolutely does not make his night spent at these charity events more tolerable and manageable, and, not even enjoyable. Not in the slightest bit. At least that’s what he tells himself anyway.

You two were intentionally put into the same room, as always— you’re notorious for being one of the few pro-heroes who’s able to keep up and deal with his temper and attitude. Ever since your graduation from Shiketsu, the media immediately spotted the similarities between your personalities and fighting styles: strategically brash, stupidly abrupt, and chaotically unpredictable. The only difference being that you aren’t unnecessarily rude to those who don’t deserve it;

Finally though, during an interview a few years after your debut, it was made clear that you had known Dynamight since he was a child growing up in the rural outskirts of Musutafu. Ever since, the two of you became each other’s automatic plus-one for every social event.

+++

Doing the breathing exercise your manager of all people taught you, you step out of the black vehicle, instantly greeted with a myriad of flashes and shouts. Paparazzi, fans and the like all vie for your attention, the December air nipping at your skin but you put on your plastic-smile and fight your way across the red carpet, stopping at the stairs and meeting the eye of Dynamight.

He was in a dashing grey suit and a black blazer the same shade as your low cut maxi dress, tailored to fit him at all the right places, all broad shoulders and tiny waist (his waist-to-hip ratio is infuriating) donning a red tie that didn’t live up to the crimson in his eyes at all. He looks good, as he always does. You really can’t be any more grateful to the shiver of sharks and cameras surrounding you two, by the time you get home, you can gawk at his stature in paparazzi pictures in the quiet of your humble abode. It doesn’t mean you won’t try your best to sneak glances up and down his body tonight though, but there will only be so many instances where he has his back turned to you.

His hand grazes your lower back while your arms remain at your sides, both of you standing at a slightly slanted angle so that you were facing each other in the tiniest bit. Flashes of cameras continue to barrage you two as the shouts get more and more aggressive, Bakugou quickly lifts up his hand and sends the photographers a hot and quick message of fuck-you with his middle finger; you were thankful, but that didn’t stop you from elbowing him in the ribs before you were so rudely torn away and steered around the venue by your plus-one.

Both of you were accustomed to this, boring speeches from the host of the event — some balding guy that was shrivelling up in his seventies with too much money — awards honoured to the top five heroes and a bunch of group pictures.

“Next up, we have our number four hero, Metal Gear!” Your smile is as plastered to your face as the sweat on your hands as you walk on stage, met with claps and the beaming smiles of your friends and colleagues and ex-classmates. “This year, she not only made history by becoming the first female hero to achieve such a high ‘blood-spill’ rating, she also has the highest score for ‘the element of surprise’ since the founding of the Hero Commission!” You shake hands with the rich and balding guy as he hands you two plaques made of glass, the backstage workers motion for you to join Tsukuyomi next to the rest of the guests while you wait for the remaining heroes. “Smile!” The photographer gleams as you all but Katsuki does the basic celebrity face— cheeks up eyes open!

And the rest? It all goes by in a blur.

+++

It was some time close to the ass-crack of dawn. After attending the set amount of after-parties your manager set you to, you crawl into the back of the agency car before it speeds off to your honest cabin. Your gaze settles unfocused outside the window, tall and lonely street lights taking turns mocking your weak frown with their derisive yellow hues, you take note of the scattered blue lights in office towers, those who live a life not knowing comfort and safety, and a sense of gratitude fills your heart.

Fighting off inebriation and drowsiness doesn’t get easier despite the accumulation of experience, you’re flushed with alcohol, ears still buzzing with lost excitement, stomach fluttering with the remnants of butterflies from the times Katsuki brushed his knee against yours under the dining table that night, or when you felt his (almost envious) eyes burning holes at your back as you involuntarily talked with Monoma.

Slurring a quick thank you, you stumble out the door and fiddle with the keys before kicking off your heels and crash-landing on your couch. You won’t wake up until tomorrow, when your manager calls your house phone because she knows you. After all, she has worked with you since the founding of Metallica™, she knows your habits, she knows the battery of your cellphone has long been dead since last night, and she knows you haven’t showered yet, nor have you done anything really. So she calls you with a long enough buffer period that by then you’ll get your life and yourself back in check and open your eyes to another day of paperwork and patrolling.

She brings you your second cup of coffee in the morning. Hangovers are difficult to deal with so she gets you a cookie to help with the patrol you have to go on 17 minutes later too. You’re paired with a new sidekick whose name you forgot, the both of you groaning after hearing the screams of civilians and the shatters of windows in the penultimate minute of your duty time. You decide that you like this sidekick.

But it’s everyday work, you’re used to this. This being the fact that your neighbourhood burglars and robbers always resort themselves to metal weapons because they’re the cheapest and most accessible.

You’ll have to thank them for the relatively easy but interesting job though.

+++

This time the monthly group hangout is, surprisingly, being held at Bakugou’s place. You have no idea what blackmail Mina must have pulled up to convince him to let you guys absolutely wreck his place, but you keep your comments to yourself.

You’re the last to arrive, having just finished an interview with some late night show, you hurry towards Katsuki’s home, a modern and sleek one at that. He hired some designer who was apparently a friend of his mother, and man did that woman have taste.

The interior mostly consisted of neutrals, grey walls and black cupboards, and obviously a kitchen done to his exact liking, with a rotating seasoning rack, a two-door fridge, and a sink that has a detachable faucet with five different pressure settings.

Your knuckles were met with nothing on the third knock, the door swinging open to reveal an extra smiley and doubtlessly tipsy Kirishima. You can hear the television playing, some shitty movie with the cheesiest lines you’ve ever heard, ‘but I love her!’; Mina and Kirishima were probably the ones responsible for the rather unwise movie choice.

You give a polite wave, simultaneously kicking off your shoes before beelining to the makeshift bar to pour yourself at least two shots before joining the rest of them. Denki gives you his usual greeting, something something flirtatious with a wink, Sero a friendly hello, and of course, his elbows. Mina must be stuck in the bathroom since you still haven’t had air pushed out your lungs by her signature hug. And Bakugou? You don’t see him.

Ah, he’s in the kitchen. As much as he likes to complain that he isn’t Denki’s nor Sero’s private chef, you know he can’t stand their poor dietary choices, so he takes matters into his own hands instead. For whatever reason, their habits of eating instant ramen six nights a week never truly left them even after UA. Whatever Bakugou is making, it smells delirious, you feel yourself getting high just from smelling it—

“Oh my god bitch I haven’t seen you in so long!” So long as in two weeks. Just how she is anyway. You usually return her energy, but it’s been a busy day, so you just respond with a tired nod and hooded eyes before allowing yourself to be dragged towards the couches, but being weary doesn’t make you any less alert so you don’t miss the (worried) glance Katsuki sends you.

You guys are a weird, weird group. You’ve known Bakugou since he was a scrawny little kid at the sandbox, and for a long time you went on play dates together while your mothers sipped on expensive teas and gossiped about the neighbourhood drama, but when Katsuki started acting more violent and aggressive towards Izuku, you had stopped talking to him after numerous failed attempts of telling him to stop. He’d reply with ‘You don’t get to tell me what to do!’ or maybe ‘If you loved stupid Deku so much go play with him instead!’, his crimson orbs didn’t look familiar when he spat those ugly words at you.

You were sad, of course. Your mother was your saving grace because she told you you’d be moving a few streets away and attending a different school just three weeks later.

It was a bittersweet goodbye, whatever that meant for two seven year olds, but despite his absence from your life, his grip on you never loosened, his influence was as present as ever, and you found yourself longing to become a hero by the age of thirteen, your parents began to lecture you, and you were no longer the sweet nine year old toddler who listened to every word spoken by your dear father, but instead you rebelled— you filled out the high school application form yourself without consulting your parents, you put down your own phone number when your homeroom teacher requested to call your mother to make sure your school choices are final.

Even with Bakugou off of your mind, you two still had uncanny similarities that Izuku never unsaw. You didn’t make it into UA, but two years after the USJ event, you started studying at Shiketsu.

You grew to be a wonderful teenager and soon, a preadolescent. You kept seeing Bakugou on the television, for the first few times you hated it, but you grew to accept that— you’ll have to share the same neighbourhood anyway.

That became true during your final year in Shiketsu, where you went to Miruko for your internship, you ran into Bakugou, the sidekick, there.

It took some reconciliation, sure. Months and months were spent biting at each other’s necks, never backing down from fights and bickers, but you were quickly adopted into their group despite being two years younger when Mina relaid the things she heard you call Bakugou to the rest of her friends (“Is Mitsuki doing well? Can’t be that well if she still has you as a son,” “You should text her yourself, maybe she’ll give you some skincare advice too.”)

Two shitty movies later, Denki and Sero have their arms around each other’s shoulders as they bump their way out the door and down the hallway, Kirishima is holding Mina’s heels while she herself is smothering you with kisses and telling you to get home safe, you would have texted her about it if you weren’t in the bad state that you are in now. They don’t say anything about you staying, you’re always the one to stay to help with clean-up at every meet-up anyway. But, this time, you think that maybe you should’ve left with them too, the air is awfully thick with tension, and you don’t know why—

“Fuck’s sakes eyebrows, just spit it out, we both know you have something to say.” Katsuki mumbles quite softly, but the way he aggressively picks up beer cans negates the gentleness he was trying to convey.

“‘m just tired. ‘s been a hefty week.”

You know it’s a blatant lie, even he knows it’s false. But he doesn’t call you out on your shit, not yet anyway. Instead, he decides to bribe you to save your ego.

He wraps up the cleaning process at lightning speed before bolting towards the kitchen. And just with the ingredients he’s pulled out, you know he’s making you your favourite soup.

(You ignore the feeling that infests your heart just by knowing he’s kept the necessary ingredients for your favourite soup in his fridge.)

The way he handles the knife, the food, the pot, even with the way he shuffles across the kitchen, grabbing the seasoning he knows you like, it’s all way too meticulous. It’s his territory, arguably more so than the battlefield. You sit at your usual spot, the left corner of the kitchen island to watch him cook, your spot. He hands you the mug, your favourite way to drink his soup, your favourite mug, and your own dedicated spoon. It’s all too meticulous, he leans against the countertop, drinking you in while you drink the soup he made. You look tired, more exhausted than usual, even more strenuous than the time you did 7 social events back to back.

He knows something’s wrong, he’s just waiting for you to tell him, like how you always do. And even you know you’ll tell him eventually. So you save both you and him some precious time and sleeping hours by spitting it out now.

“My parents have been giving me shit again, I thought that after they laid off a bit meant that they have finally come to terms with my work as a hero. Surprise surprise, they haven’t.”

The nonchalant look on your face, the would-be furrow between your brows, the would-be tears in your eyes, he already sees them. He inhales deeply, all the way down to the last crevice of his lungs, resting his eyes for a split second before realising just how sleepy he is, but he’ll always have time for you, so he doesn’t mention it.

He waits a bit more, and you’re confused at first, until you realise that he’s just waiting for you to finish the soup. So you do so hurriedly, and let him drag you to his bed. You flop onto it unceremoniously and certainly without much grace. He sighs, not having the heart to force you into cleaner pyjamas, he's just going to have to clean those sheets for the second time this week. He rolls onto the bed himself, he doesn’t touch you, not like he ever has, but he just lets you know he’s there, with his pillow, his blanket; it’s his cologne that floods the bed, it’s his apartment that you’re in, but you kind of knew, that he’s here, for you. Always your respite, always your safe haven.

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tighnarly · 1 year ago

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Ménage à trois… Kind of

Bakugou x Deku x Reader

Synopsis: Bakugou gets jealous and shows reader who they belong to.

Author’s note: Sorry this took so long guys! I hope you like it! I’m sorry if it’s bad!!!!

Trigger warnings: Cuckholding, smut, filthy, spit, body fluids, over stimulation, crying, bondage

Ever since UA, Bakugou has had an unhealthy competition with a one Izuku Midoriya. Granted it pushed them both to do better, to work better, to be better, but anyone with eyes could see that they both pushed each other a little too far for comfort occasionally. This spread through all areas of their lives eventually. Bakugou especially felt the need to compete, the fact that Deku made it as the number one hero before him only made the fire in his chest burn deeper and brighter. The jealousy seeped into his every pore, consumed him and made him furious.

Then you had to come along and made the fury turn almost evil.

It's not that you intended to ignite anything in Bakugou. You were just his PR agent at first until one day you both started dating. It wasn't your fault that the mere sight of you had a storm brewing in his loins. It wasn't even your fault that Bakugou fell in love with you. Nor was it your fault that you just so happened to be a huge Pro Hero Deku fan. I mean who could blame you for joining the millions of people who held a flame for the number one hero. You didn’t even intend for your fiery boyfriend to find out about your infatuation.

It all came to head when you were talking to one of Bakugou’s sidekicks about how best to help Bakugou not only save people but how to make him look better to the press. Originally it started out as just shop talk but it quickly turned to gossip. Of course they just had to ask you which of the top ten pro heroes you would most like to bed other than your boyfriend. And of course you had to admit your affinity for the broccoli haired hero when a certain blonde was eavesdropping.

Bakugou could do without being the number one hero if he absolutely had too, but he’d be damned if Deku ever got you instead of himself. In that instant the red hot fury and jealously made way for a crystal clear state of mind. He knew what he had to do to beat Deku at something once and for all.

Oh he was going to enjoy this.

It wasn’t so hard to put into motion. All he had to do was do a little persuading and by little he means it. Deku was always quick to follow his plans, even if they were a bit....debauched. Now all he had to do was get you over to his house for the fun to begin.

You weren't surprised that Bakugou invited you over for some spicy fun, he was always about scheduling stuff ahead of time with his rigid training regime and hero duties. You didn't mind it too much, it sometimes took a little of the spontaneity out of it, but you loved your boyfriend so you put up with scheduled intimate times. You walked into his dimly lit apartment and called out for him.

"In here!" Bakugou called from his bedroom. You were a little surprised he was calling you into is his room so soon, usually he wined and dined you first, you even came over hungry, but the little surprise of it sparked your interest. You made your way in and nearly choked on your own spit at the utter shock of the sight before you.

Tied up and gagged before you in the chair opposite your boyfriend's bed, sat an undressed Izuku Midoriya. His eyes track you, something akin to hunger filling them.

You're about to turn around and leave thinking it's some sort of trick or maybe a trap, or something, but as you start to back away, a brick wall of a man stops you, gripping your arms and pushing you towards the bed. You know the hold anywhere and relax, Katsuki. A very naked Katsuki.

"Kats, what's going on, is that really Deku?" You question as he continued to push you on the bed.

"Well I heard you're a little slut and want to fuck this little nerd, so I decided I had to show you who you belong to and what better way than to prove it to him too." Bakugou finally gets you onto the bed and before you could even reply or respond in any way, he was ripping off your clothes.

"I don't understand where did you hear that? You know I love only you." You tried to reason.

"Don't try to back down now, you're not some coward of an extra," Bakugou barks as he ripped off the last of your clothing exposing you in front of him and your other favorite hero. "I heard you tell that loser coworker of ours that you'd fuck Deku if it weren't for me, so I'm going to show you exactly why I'm better than him and the only one that can make you feel real pleasure. Now let's give the shitty nerd a show he won't forget.'

"But...' your eyes shift to Izuku, trapped in the chair.

"Don't worry the little pervert is in on this, right Deku?" Bakugou assures you. "Now face Deku and lean against me."

You hesistate for a moment, questioning if you could really do this. But as you glanced over at the green haired man you noticed something you hadn't before. Deku had an erection, dripping with precum, red with want and you realized this was an opportunity you couldn't pass up. It was also the hottest and dirtiest scenario that you could ever dream of, and your boyfriend set aside his hatred of the number one hero to work with him to set this up for you, in a weird way, it was kind of romantic.

So you did what was asked of you. You sat in between your lover's legs and let his game unfold.

Bakugou positioned you so your legs were spread out, using his own legs to hold them wide open so Deku could see. He leaned you back against him, sitting himself against the back board in a way that pushed your breast out and made your stomach taut. You looked beautiful, both men could agree on how sexy you were and are. And thus the show began.

Bakugou ran his large, warm hands down your sides, sending shiver down with it. He then ran his hands back up sending pleasurable little sparks with them, the utter control he had over his quirk always made your core tighten and he knew it. He brought his hands up to your breast squeezing them almost harshly, messaging them, before he began teasing your nipples. Deku's eyes focused on your chest devouring the sight of his childhood bully tweaking your nipples, twisting and pulling at them, wishing he could be released and join in but he knew his role in this was to watch.

You tried to hold your moans in but then Bakugou began sucking and kissing messily on your neck, spit cooling on it at places his lips ventured away from. Then a moan is ripped aggressively out of your throat when he lays a viscous bite on the crook of your neck, lapping at the spot to sooth the ache. Wetness pools at your pussy entrance and you know that no matter how embarrassing you find your noises to be, especially in the face of Japan's Number One Hero, you wouldn’t win against Bakugou's assault.

Bakugou let one hand fall away from your chest down to your beautiful lips, toying with the lips, spreading them open and shut, causing a butterfly light friction on your most intimate areas. You whined and tried to buck your hips, begging for more, the shame of being a needy and wanton creature non-existent at this point. Even as your eyes fluttered open and you caught Deku's eyes at your entrance, his dick almost purple with want, you found yourself unashamed. In fact you’re only more turned on.

Finally Bakugou dragged his strong fingers up and down your entrance, teasing your clit. He gathered your wetness and brought it up to your clit, beginning a teasing tango on your most sensitive area. Both your’s and Deku’s hips strained to try and buck for more friction. Your attempt became fruitless as the hand not occupied with your beautiful pussy stopped you from moving and Deku is restricted from the ropes around his waist. You whined, begging for more, “ Please Kats need more, please, please.”

“Since you begged so prettily…” Bakugou said as he roughly shoved two of his fingers into your wet cavern. You gasped at the intrusion, not prepared for it in the slightest. Immediately Katsuki started a brutal pace, making you clench and the air in your throat catch. You began to squirm and your hands tried gripping at the blankets below you. It was a painful pleasure that caused your stomach and pussy clench ready to reach your peak if you had just a little more to push you over. Then, just as you were about to cry from the frustration, Bakugou began shooting little sparks through his fingers that were inside you directly on the spot that made your toes curl. A scream was ripped out of your lungs and an orgasm was forced out of you.

Katsuki fucked you through your orgasm and continued to fuck you after you came down, overstimulating you to the point of tears. He let you cry for awhile longer before taking his fingers out. Bakugou surprised you by getting out from behind you, positioning you with the hand that wasn't inside of you to rest against the backboard he previously occupied.

He calmly swaggered over to where Deku was tied up and removed his gag only to shove the fingers that were just inside you into his mouth, effectively choking him for a moment. "A little treat for you nerd, you won't get many so I expect you to thank me for what you get.” Bakugou then took his fingers out and looked at Deku expectingly.

Deku gasped for air for a moment before answering, “Thank you Kacchan. They taste amazing I can see why you want to keep them to yourself, thank you for sharing.”

“That’ll do for now, now for the main event.” Bakugou put the gag back and turned his attention back to you. “Y/n get over here and sit on Deku’s lap make sure you don’t let him inside you but get close enough to torture him."

Jelly legged, you followed his order. As you sat down you could feel Deku's throbbing member against your ass and back, making you mewl with want. You wiggled just the tiniest bit to get a little friction on your reawakened pussy, ready for whatever Katsuki had planned. He crept closer to you, leaning down to capture your lips in a filthy kiss, shoving his tongue down your throat so deep it caused you to gag just the slightest bit. All of a sudden you felt the chair lift up enoughthat you were almost eye level with your tall lover. You felt Deku below you quiver at the small amount of movement, it caused a fresh and sticky burst of precum to burst forward and begin to coat your back.

Bakugou gave you one last dirty kiss pulling apart as a string of saliva connected you both for a second longer before it broke and began leaking down your chin and chest. It fueled your desire even more. Bakugou smirked at you before lining himself with your entrance and plunging in with such force that you pushed back against Deku, trapping his aching dick between his own chest and your back tightly. Katsuki began thrusting into your wet cavern slowly but harshly. You could hear Deku whimpering and moaning through his gag, you could even feel his harsh breathing against your neck as you were pushed further against him.

Bakugou groaned at the tightening of your walls knowing you were just as turned on by torturing Deku as he was. Katsuki could see tears forming in his rivals eyes as he brushed against the spot that made your toes curled and slammed into you harder and faster. He saw your head fall back against Deku and saw Deku’s eyes on you longingly. Bakugou knew this was the right move. He continued his onslaught giving you wave after wave of pleasure until all your strings were pulled taunt and snapped in ecstasy. You jerked against the two male bodies as you came, hands flying down to grip at Deku’s thighs as you humped against your boyfriend trying to prolong your high.

Once you came down you weren’t given any time to recover as Bakugou forced you to stand up and turn around. He pulled a lever on the chair to put Deku back down. You thought maybe it was over but Bakugou hadn’t come and he had another plan in store. Katsuki forced you to bend over causing you to grip Deku’s arms to steady yourself and keep you upright. You were now eye to eye with him. Bakugou wasted no time plunging back into you. You tried to drop your head down as to not make eye contact with Deku but Bakugou gripped your hair tightly to continue the contact.

“You’re going to look him in the eye as I fuck you and use you. You’re going to show him exactly who is fucking you so right, you hear me?” Bakugou demanded. You nodded as a moan made it’s way out your mouth. He gave an especially aggressive thrust into your tight cunt making your tits bounce hard against Deku’s neglected dick. Tears were streaming down Deku’s face at the utter torture his manhood was being out through. He could try breaking the ropes but he knew Bakugou would end this the moment he did. You looked so fucked out and dirty. Every time Bakugou thrusted his large dick in you you'd gasp and moan and get centimeters away from Izuku's face. He longed for any sort of relief whether it came from you or Bakugou, he'd be a fool to deny how hot your boyfriend has always been.

As Bakugou picked up his pace he brought one of his hands to your neglected clit and began ruthlessly drawing circles across it over and over again in rythm with his thrusts. The pleasure left you babbling, drool pooling outside your mouth, dripping down his body and onto Deku's lap. The sinful feeling of your spit traveling down his dick and balls almost made Deku cum without being truly touched but before he could Bakugou removed his hand rom your hair and gripped Deku's base painfully, stopping the orgasm before it could escalate.

"I didn't say you could cum during this you shitty nerd so you better stop that right now or I stop this, got it?" Bakugou barked never stopping his movements in you. Izuku nodded, tears streaming down his cheeks in droves.

Bakugou brought his hand back to your hair making sure you e/c eyes never waivered from Deku's. He groaned as your pussy kept clenching around him, turned on by you and how pathetic Deku was rendered. Honestly that moment was the most he'd ever been turned on, you looked and felt as amazing as always, filling his veins with lust but having his rival tied up and at his mercy? It was like having a lightning bolt of pure aphrodisiac running it's course through him.

Bakugou picked up his thrust and the circles on your clit. He could feel you start to cum, could feel your delightful cunt clench tightly and rapidly. You felt your body ascend to a level of pleasure that you'd never achieved before. Looking into Deku's eyes you felt your body tighten and coil and snap harder than you thought possible. The sick perversion of having your favorite hero watching as you were ravaged by your boyfriend, making you look into his eyes as you came, you gushed all over Bakugou. You squirted for the first time in your life soaking Bakugou's pelvis and legs. The ego boost of causing you to squirt pulsed through Bakugou making him to drive into you at break neck speed, prolonging your high to the point of over stimulation yet again, the tears already spilling from your eyes and back onto Deku. Bakugou gave a final thrust, loving the sight of your's and Deku's tears, cumming forcefully into your cervix.

Bakugou fell against your back slightly, holding onto you waist tightly. He took a minute letting you both catch your before he spoke his next words, sedning a new wave of shock and pleasure through your spine. "Maybe if Deku can be a good boy and stay tied up for the night we can have a round two in the morning. How does that sound Deku?"

You barely has the strength to lift your head to see Deku's excited nod.

Taglist: @zachmidoriya @mrskreideprinz

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bicheetopuff · 2 months ago

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Grill I have a sudden thought. Epiphany if you will.. Call it curiosity even!

Kirishima is kind of a parallel torwards Izuku in some way when being friends with Kats (just more, confident and less bullying and Kiri being a rock)

But what about Iida?

like, For some reason- Iida does seen Izuku as a rival and kind of want to prove himself that he can be more with or without izu-

I am- I'm not sure how to word this. I am not good with words, but I think what I want to say that Izu and Kats kind of have a type when befriending others

Iida & Katsuki (Similarity)

Loud

Studios

Prideful

Not chill

Goal minded (I'm stupid maybe)

Rule binding (Kats is just very chaotic in responding to rules)

Both probably sleeps at 8 PM

I'm not sure anymore I think you can list it better than I do-

Help this is not even remotely a coherent thought, so please just ignore it if it doesn't make sense

Have Izu for your troubles!💞

bkdk is the only ship I ship, just- thoughts

Don’t worry, bkdk is constantly on my mind too, I get it.

I actually really love the way Izuku and Iida’s relationship parallels Katsuki and Kirishima’s and it makes me kinda sad that people stopped talking about them.

I wouldn’t say that they parallel in dynamic very much, but they parallel in a sense that Katsuki and Izuku are so obviously jealous of each others friends. Well… not jealous, but there’s definitely a feeling of, “I’m glad he found a friend who treats him the way he deserves to be treated, because I am in no place to be the one to give him that no matter how much I want to,” kind of mutual insecurity. And it’s made so blatantly obvious (even being confirmed in an interview) that I genuinely wonder what Horikoshi was thinking when he decided to do it. Like, what were his intentions with that? Outside of obvious yearning?

Like, I feel like Iida and Kirishima is who bkdk wishes the other could see them as. Kirishima has that same overly positive spirit and self sacrificial heroic attitude that Izuku has that Katsuki hates so much. The difference is, Izuku’s self sacrificial attitude isn’t healthy while Kirishima’s is, because Kirishima’s quirk is literally a shield which makes it nearly impossible for him to inflict injuries onto himself deliberately like Izuku does. Kirishima is Izuku without the fatal flaws that worries Katsuki so much. Now with Iida, he’s an organized goody two shoes with a tendency to let his emotions spill over in a scary/somewhat violent way, just like Katsuki. However, Iida is also missing Katsuki’s fatal flaws. Iida is stubborn but he’s able to let people into his life and he doesn’t have an explosive temper, nor does he have an extremely inflated ego. He has a similar social pressure that Katsuki had growing up with his family and other adults in his life pre-projecting him to be a great hero and having him set a standard for himself that he isn’t able to reach until realizes his weaknesses, which he’s able to do a lot faster than Katsuki was able to.

They don’t just parallel in their relationships, but they parallel narratively too fairly often. I touched on it a bit in this post [x], but I’ll explain it a little more since I find it fascinating.

Since Izuku views Kirishima as Katsuki’s ideal friend, and Katsuki views Iida as Deku’s ideal friend, they kind of act on it in a way that ended up setting up the whole narrative about hand holding in the story.

With this,

Being a clear call back to this:

(I also wanna point out that the memory of Ochako saying that “he’ll think it’s disgraceful to get rescued” being recalled in both of those chapters)

I feel like both “You’ve always managed to outpace me!!” and “I probably shouldn’t be the one…” are proof of that insecurity I mentioned earlier. They truly don’t believe that they’re the most important people to each other, and their mutual belief in that just kind of proves them wrong ironically. These two scenes is them indirectly extending their hand through someone else, because they think that someone else would do it better.

There’s way too much emphasis on them being scared to hold hands for it to be considered platonic, IM SORRY BUT IM NOT BUYING IT

I’m sorry if this wasn’t coherent, it’s literally 2am where I am…

#bnha #bakudeku #bkdk #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #ask puff #puff speaks #puff answers #tenya iida #kirishima eijirou

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elliethejellie · 1 year ago

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The Lovebug Virus - Chapter One: Intrigue

Yandere! Sun and Moon x Reader

Masterlist || Read it on AO3 || Chapter Two (coming soon!)

*****

No one usually took the time to look at Y/N. She was an empty, shell of a person with little interest in what others her age would find entertaining.

She didn't go out to eat and drink with friends. The thought of going out to make conversation with strangers was a foreign concept to her. The mere implication of loud music and drawling small talk sent shivers down her spine.

No, what Y/N spent most of her free time doing, usually involved quiet spaces with relaxing music - hidden away under a blanket with a book or her laptop and no expectation of the exchange of dialogue. She would partake in gardening to get her daily intake of sunlight, and then you would find her right back inside - cozied up with a stuffie and relaxing.

Most others would say that she lived a lonely life. She didn't mind, really. She never had any reason to believe that the way she went about her days was depressing. The hours spent daydreaming and falling into different worlds brought her joy.

Her parents had always left her to her own devices growing up. They would buy her toys and games and encourage her to play outside with the neighbors - but Y/N was never interested. So they had promptly given up and resorted to allowing her some space of her own. Other parents would question their parenting methods, although these were mostly snarky older women that felt the need to insert their input where nobody asked for it. Y/N always heard those conversations. Her parents always defended her.

They weren't the best parental figures in the world, but they allowed her to learn and grow on her own. She never saw much of an issue with it. She enjoyed it, honestly. But as with anything, there was a catch.

Should a single grade slip from its perfect little pointed "A+," she would kiss her freedom goodbye. Her privacy, independence, and otherwise happiness were privileges - that was made clear from the beginning. So she learned quickly that anything less than perfect was unacceptable and wrong.

When the time came for her to think of college, she didn't really have much outside of her quaint little world that she wanted. But her parents insisted - so she looked into robotics and engineering.

This had surprised everyone that knew her (even though that wasn't necessarily a lot of people). Her parents were proud and they boasted about the decision to anyone and everyone that would listen. One of her parents' friends had asked if they were putting a lot of pressure on her for bragging about her career choice, but Y/N was close enough earshot that she had meandered through the kitchen and denied such a claim nonchalantly.

Going to college proved to be more of a positive thing than she ever would have imagined. Despite her quiet demeanor, she made a friend rather quickly. Said friend was the exact opposite of Y/N - loud and boisterous, indulging in "normal" college behavior like it was her lifeline.

Kat had grown to become Y/N's best friend - even with all odds stacked against their friendship. College had introduced them to each other, and they spent a lot of their free time together now. They considered each other best friends - after all, living two completely different lives meant they never ran out of things to talk about and show each other.

The only small, minute detail Y/N found herself grumbling about quietly was the fact that she needed a job. Her parents promised they would cover her tuition, allow her to live with them rent-free, and even buy her groceries for her - as long as she kept up the garden she so dearly loved. But that left no money for her to buy more books, or keep up with her various subscriptions online. Privileges her antisocial self felt she needed. The things she had spent her whole life using to keep herself happy. Activities that allowed her to shove away the feelings of loneliness that so desperately threatened to spill over into the content she felt for the life she lived.

It was the only reason she stood where she did now, staring up into the soft white, glowing eyes of a sunny-themed animatronic as her heart hammered in her chest. There was absolutely nothing she had experienced thus far to properly ready her for this change in her life. She wondered silently to herself why she would agree to take on such a challenge - but Kat's voice echoed through her head like the ghost of a disappointed mother.

"You need interaction, Meatball! There's so many things out there in the world and you keep yourself cooped up in your room all day!"

"Well, my room doesn't disappoint me, or try to roofie me when I walk away to use the bathroom," she had said in response, gathering her homework from her desk and neatly placing it in her three ring binder. Kat grabbed a pillow off of Y/N's neatly made bed and chucked it at her.

"That was one time! And I was fine! He was just jealous of the attention I was getting from his girlfriend," she joked. But her giggling was replaced with a sigh as she watched Y/N pick the pillow up and place it exactly where it had been before Kat threw it. "Come on, girl. You said it yourself - you need the money. You only have to keep the job for three months. That's how long the contract lasts. Then you can happily quit if need be."

Y/N's grip on her binder tightened at the thought of being bound by contract to a noisy, bustling daycare as a security guard. Small children always made her uneasy. They were unpredictable - running around and happy one moment, throwing themselves on the ground and crying the next. But as her eyes drifted down to the book lying on the edge of her desk, she sighed. All of the characters in all of her books needed to go through character development. Maybe now was her time?

"Alright, KitKat. Get me an application."

"So like I said, you don't have to interact with the kids much. That's Sun's job. You just have to make sure that meals get here on time, cleanup is done right, and that this hunk of junk works the way it's supposed to," Max said, jabbing his thumb up at the robot. Sun glared at him, or so Y/N assumed he did. His arms crossed and faceplate turned towards Kat's older brother, his rays shrinking back slightly. But his smile remained unchanging.

Why did FazCo think a non-expressive faceplate was a good idea?

"So, um... Do I need to walk around and watch him, or...?"

"Oh god no," Max responded, typing vigorously on the keyboard in front of him. "Do you see the size of this damn place? You'll only need to watch from the cameras here."

"Language, Mr. Diaz," Sun chirped from his spot, still standing on the opposite side of the security desk. Max laughed and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, and he's a stickler for the rules," he mumbled. Y/N took a moment to look at the other monitors on the desk. They all displayed different cameras overlooking the daycare and its attachments. There were several pointed at the main play area. But there was also one in each of the party rooms, a few in the theatre, and some as far out as Kid's Cove.

Y/N took note of each camera and tried to figure out where on the walls and ceiling they were. She only stopped when she realized the yellow jester bot was still looking at her. Again, that's at least what she assumed. His eyes held no irises - only a faint white glow that appeared to shift every so often. She opened her mouth to speak, but the oddly-colored and bulky watch on Max's wrist chimed. He groaned as he looked at it.

"Dammit," he hissed, making Sun mutter another chastise in his direction. He ignored it, typed something else quickly on the computer, and then grabbed his security hat from where he left it next to one of the monitors. "Something came up, so I gotta go." He then snapped as if he remembered something important - reaching into one of his pockets and pulling out a dark purple lanyard. "This is your temporary security badge until we get you fully put into the system," he said, sounding distracted. Y/N reached out to grab it, but Max didn't let it go immediately. "Never go anywhere without this, you hear me?"

Y/N felt anxiety prick at the base of her spine. "Y-Yeah, I hear you," she said hesitantly. Max let go of the badge and rushed out of the daycare without another word.

"Oh, don't worry about him, new friend!" Sun exclaimed suddenly, startling Y/N. She ogled at the animatronic as she pulled the lanyard over her head. "Welcome to the daycare!" He stretched his arms up above his head dramatically, reminding Y/N of one of those water spouts that people put in personal ponds and lakes sometimes.

"Thanks," she mumbled, biting her tongue before she could embarrassingly mutter a 'you too' in his direction. She sat down in one of the office chairs and looked at the monitors again. Sun didn't walk away to continue on with his job - instead opting to lean down on the desk and place his eyes right above the edge of the screen Y/N was looking at.

"New friend," he singsonged, listing his head to the side once she peered at him. "Wanna come play a game with me and the little sunbites? Our old handler would play games with us."

"Old handler?" The question slipped from her mouth before she even had a chance to think about it. Sun's eyes widened (the first bit of facial expression she'd witnessed from the bot) and he stood back up to his full height.

"Y-Yeah, but that doesn't matter!" he stuttered, waving his hands in front of himself as if physically shooing the question away. "Anyways, we can play hide and seek, tag, or even cops and robbers!"

If the unease wasn't present in the form of expression of Y/N's face, the heat rising to her cheeks definitely was. "I don't know," she said hesitantly. Her eyes darted to the rowdy children screaming and running around the colorful play space. Sun's rays retracted behind his faceplate slightly.

"Oh," he said, deflated. Y/N felt pity flutter in her heart. Why, she couldn't tell. But something about the way his demeanor changed at her rejection of the games reminded her almost of... herself.

"Why would anyone want to play cards with you? That's a boring game."

"A book club? But kids your age should be running around a playground."

"No, coloring is an inside game. We're playing outside."

"Actually," Y/N said, standing from the chair and pulling a few of her belongings from her pockets to place on the desk. "Do you know the game telephone?" she asked, and somehow Sun's smile seemed to grow wider.

The solar animatronic gathered up the excited children - guiding all the ones that wanted to play into a big circle in one of the cushioned play areas. The ones that didn't he sat down at one of the plastic tables to color, rendering the large daycare quiet besides the never-ending looped theme that played from some hidden speaker overhead. Y/N watched him as he interacted with the young ones, finding herself surprised that he was so gentle with them.

Of course the daycare attendant would have to be gentle. But something about the way his voice changed when he spoke, or even the little hand gestures he used to keep their attention on him - it made her curious about his programming. Advanced AI was still something relatively new when it came to commercial use. It felt like only a few months ago that chatboxes utilizing AIs were first introduced to the general public. It had quickly gotten out of hand and forced several companies to close their doors due to being sued for copyright infringements and other various crimes.

But not long after that, corporations latched onto the idea of being able to replace humans with technology. It was beneficial to them - not having to worry about human error in places that cost them millions in losses for that exact reason. Several protests emerged, but they were incapable of rallying enough support to prohibit the advancement in research and programming. Some loophole about original work and free speech - Y/N didn't really remember.

It didn't take much time for robots to start to replace simple jobs. Unimportant roles like gas station cashiers and janitors were replaced with animatronic versions, and it had worked so well that the furthering of said technology couldn't be stopped.

Fazbear Entertainment latched onto the idea quickly, especially given that they had been working with AI for years under the table. One thing led to another and now? Well, she was looking at the result of such changes.

"With a show of hands, let me see who knows how to play the game telephone," Sun said, looking around at all of the bright little faces. Several hands shot into the air excitedly. A lot of the older kids had played, but many of the younger ones looked around at their peers quizzically. "So a fairly new game to most of you, I see," Sun continued.

He explained the game in the simplest terms possible, which only furthered Y/N's secret fascination for the bot. She spent the entirety of his explanation just taking in his appearance with more detail. He definitely looked the part in regards to a FazCo animatronic. That much was obvious. But the thought took too long to actually hold weight in her head.

It's not that Sun didn't have mechanical clicks and a voice box full of static - he was definitely an animatronic. But when compared to the others within the pizzaplex, there were definitely major differences. The others - the Glamrocks - were bulky and wore 80's themed garments that reflected the vibe of the entire mall. They had expressive faces and a lot of preset voice lines. Sun just didn't look like he belonged in the lineup.

Although, that fact was at least obvious to the higher ups, as the advertisements for the obnoxiously inclusive, over-glorified mall never included the daycare attendant. Y/N remembered seeing one of the unskippable ads before a youtube video once. Nothing was mentioned about the daycare - not even in passing did they mention that the plex offered childcare. It made her curious now, but at the time she hadn't thought much about it.

She played along with the kids in the slow paced game - giggling slightly every time the child next to her whispered something she knew wasn't the phrase Sun had started with. The sunbot always played up whatever was whispered to him at the end of the line, covering his unchanging mouth and tilting his head to the side - even retracting his rays as he did earlier.

If FazCo had such an intelligent form of AI running their daycare, why hadn't they tried to utilize the same programming for the other animatronics?

After a while, most of the children grew bored of the game - asking Sun if they could leave to color or play in the structures again. He seemed hesitant to allow them to at first, but soon they stopped putting effort into the game, so he eventually dismissed them all. Y/N went back to her seat at the security desk just as the first few parents showed up to pick up their children. Y/N learned from Sun how the security bands worked, making her feel quite dumb for not realizing that each child wore a colored bracelet that held all of their information.

Soon, all that remained of the earlier bustling daycare play area was one rather quiet child. She hadn't left Sun's side from the moment she arrived after being dropped off from school. She had short, dark hair with blue at the ends stuffed under a baseball cap of the local team. Currently, she was following Sun around like a puppy with separation anxiety - her blue eyes desperately following each movement of the solar animatronic's hands as he cleaned. Y/N couldn't help but find her fascination with the simple tasks amusing because she related to her curiosity.

Then the notification popped up on the monitor in front of her that the girl - whose name was Rosalie - was now in queue to be picked up. Sun lifted his head from the table he had been wiping down and smiled at the little girl. "Rosie posie, looks like your mom is here!" he said brightly, picking the girl up and placing her on his shoulders. She squealed with delight as he lead her over to the cubbies that contained her backpack, shoes, and other various personal belongings. One of those belongings was a dark blue plush, but Y/N couldn't tell what it was from where she sat.

A yawn forced its way from her mouth as Sun finished with checking Rosalie out from the daycare. He talked with the girl's mother for a while - only deepening Y/N's fascination with him. He could speak with children fluently - making jokes and pulling off silly voices to keep them entertained. But he could also sound completely serious and relay information to adults without puns or snickering.

It was like he was just another human.

"Have a Fazerific day, Rosalie! See you tomorrow!" Sun called out of the door. He shut it, and immediately let out a satisfied simulated sigh before turning towards Y/N.

She dropped her head down and tried to busy herself with the keyboard in front of her. She didn't know why she was embarrassed to have been watching the animatronic - he probably didn't mind, given that children stared at him all the time. But the warmth crept up to her cheeks nonetheless.

"New friend, do you need help learning the proper way to sanitize the daycare?" he asked, approaching the desk again and resuming the same position he had earlier.

"Wait, what?" Y/N's confusion must have been extremely visible, because Sun faltered for a moment.

"Your end-of-day duties involve cleaning and sanitizing the daycare with me," he informed, tilting his faceplate to the side slightly. The exhaustion from interacting with people all day tickled the back of her mind, but she quickly shoved it aside as Kat's words about her needing interaction echoed in her mind.

"O-Okay," she stuttered, standing from the office chair and making her way around the desk to join the solar animatronic.

Despite being a fairly large space, the duties of cleaning the play area weren't as daunting as one might think. The ballpit had a special mechanism that allowed all of the colorful plastic orbs to fall through an invisible hatch that could only be opened with a swipe of Y/N's keycard. Apparently, there was a large area beneath the daycare that would sanitize the balls before sending them back through a hidden tube to refill. The plushies and pillows that filled a tent at the far side of the bright space would be sprayed with a disinfectant that hid underneath the security desk. Y/N supposed the hardest task was actually vacuuming the mats - but given that there were multiple vacuum units in the supply closet and two people to split the daycare floor, it went by rather quickly.

Neither Sun nor Y/N spoke much besides clarifying questions and little corrections in cleaning methods. It would be a comfortable silence had the endless loop of the silly daycare theme not been blaring overhead still. Y/N made a mental note about asking Max if it could be shut off once all the kids were gone.

But she realized after a while that although she was cleaning in silence, Sun had actually been mumbling to himself. Between variations of the cleanup song he sang earlier to the children and comments about how messy things were - it almost sounded as though he was talking to himself. It was odd to hear at first, but it only reminded Y/N of the way she would do the same thing when going about her usual chores at home.

By the time the two had finished cleaning, Y/N's feet hurt. But something buzzed through her body as she looked at the clean space, proud of the hard work. The ache in her muscles wasn't too far off from the same feeling she got after getting all of her garden beds ready at the start of a new season.

"You did amazing, new friend!" Sun praised, throwing his hands above his head. He followed closely behind Y/N as she made her way back to the security desk. "The routine went by so much faster with your help!"

"Oh, I'm sure it wasn't that much faster," Y/N responded, rounding the edge of the desk to collect her stuff. "So there's nothing else I've gotta do now?" Sun's rays shrank back a bit.

"Well, not exactly," he said slowly. Y/N looked up at him, a little surprised by the hesitance in his voice. One of her eyebrows quirked up to urge him to continue. His fingers smoothed over the ribbons on his wrists as he stared on - unblinking white eyes giving away no emotion to the thoughts running through his mind. "N-Nevermind," he said suddenly, placing his hands on the desk with a tap.

Y/N couldn't help her lingering stare before she turned her attention to the monitor so she could clock out. She was tired, but for once it was a good tired. Sun followed at her heels after she collected her belongings and walked to the entrance. It made her think of the way Rosalie was following him around earlier.

"Friend?" Sun said quietly as Y/N reached the large wooden doors. She turned to face him.

"Yeah?"

He once again fiddled with the ribbons on his wrist, but she still couldn't tell what he was thinking. It only intrigued her more. "Make sure to get a good rest in before you come back tomorrow!" he said in a chipper voice, dropping his hands and subsequently his anxious fidgeting. Y/N sighed, plastering a lazy grin on her face.

"You too, friend," she said, mirroring his nickname for her as she slipped through the doors - completely missing the way Sun's rays rotated around his head a few times as he processed her words.

Y/N's stomach growled as she entered the main entrance of the PizzaPlex. Excited voices drifted up to her ears as children and their parents lined up to get their own wristbands - the variation in color depicting where they were allowed to go. She descended a flight of stairs and contemplated getting something to eat here before she went home. The smell of pizza was extremely tempting.

She let it win - sliding past the people in line to swipe her badge and enter the main area of the plex in search of the greasy, triangle-shaped treat. When was the last time she indulged in unhealthy food just because she could?

It didn't take long for her to spot one of the areas advertising food. It was actually getting to it that was proving to be time-consuming. There were so many people rushing about as the last concert of the night was preparing to run. Y/N let her thoughts drift back through her day as she dodged and weaved through hyper children and eerie staff bots that she swore stared at her a little longer than usual.

Sun certainly was... something. She could get used to working with him easily - his demeanor was warm and inviting, and her fascination with his programming would surely keep her entertained. She wondered how long he had been in use, once again flitting over the question as to why his programming hadn't been utilized with any of the other animatronics.

Y/N let out a shocked squeak as her shoulder connected with someone else. A frantic apology escaped her lips as she looked up and locked eyes with Max.

"Oh, it's you. Sorry, was distracted," he said, glancing back in the direction he was heading in. He certainly looked distracted. And tired. Being closer to him than she had earlier, Y/N took note of the dark stubble growing on his chin and baggy circles beneath his eyes. He smelled faintly of cigarette smoke, but so did a lot of other people. And he at least did a good job of covering it up with a light cologne.

His eyes snapped back to Y/N suddenly and he gave a halfhearted smile. "How was the first day? The thing didn't give you too much trouble, did it?"

"Wha- Sun? No, not at all," she responded quickly. "He was actually somewhat delightful," she added, thinking of how soft he had been with the children.

Max's gaze lingered on her as the silence between them stretched awkwardly. Then he hummed, but he didn't say anything more. So Y/N spoke up again. "I hope whatever was so urgent earlier went over well?"

The way Max's eyebrows furrowed confusedly made her second guess her statement. But then recognition glinted in his eyes and he chuckled. "Oh, yeah! Was fine, fine..." He paused. "Just something stupid - easy fix."

Y/N felt her heart start to hammer in her chest as anxiety lulled through her body. She hated small talk.

"Well anyways, I've still got some stuff to take care of," he said, much to Y/N's relief. "I'll try to stop by tomorrow to make sure you know the last of your responsibilities with this job."

"Sure, okay," she responded, trying not to sound desperate to get away from him. He turned to leave, calling out over his shoulder as he walked away.

"And tell Kat I said hi."

*****

The pizza was exactly as Y/N thought it would be - greasy and bland.

She still happily snacked on it during her drive back home, steadily bobbing her head to the beat of her favorite song. She couldn't wait to lounge around in her sweatshirt and shorts again.

When she walked through the front door, though, she was immediately bombarded with questions about her first day. Kat had come over with sorbet from her favorite place to celebrate her having landed the job and surviving her first shift. Y/N's mother was almost in tears from being proud - much to Y/N's dismay.

She knew it was all an act.

But she allowed herself to play along. She was proud of herself, after all. The last time she attempted to get herself out there in the world, she had chickened out before she even made it to the building.

And here she was, with a new job and not a single anxiety or panic attack in sight.

After answering her parents questions and accepting their hugs, the two best friends retreated up to Y/N's room.

"And how's the animatronic? His name's Sundrop, right?" Kat asked Y/N, taking her usual place sitting on the daybed with her legs folded beneath her.

"I think it's just Sun. But he's absolutely amazing, Kat! You should've seen it!" She sat down at her desk, distractedly swirling her spoon around in the last bits of her mango sorbet. "I'm so curious about all of the programs that had to be written for him. He's got to have thousands."

"You're such a dweeb," Kat responded, grabbing the stuffed animal nearest to her on the bed and snuggling it.

"Probably," Y/N responded after throwing the now-empty sorbet cup away in the small trash can under her desk. Her hands wandered to the drawer on the desk - pulling out one of the notebooks and flipping to an empty page. She had to get started on her fall garden before the temps started to drop, so she went through and listed the things she really wanted to grow. "But he's just so soft with the children. I didn't expect a robot made of something so dense and virtually indestructible to be so... caring."

"It's all in the programming, you goober." Kat shifted to lie down. "Speaking of, have you figured out what you want to do for your project yet?"

A soft sigh emitted from Y/N. "No," she said simply, pushing the notebook away and bringing the end of the pencil to her mouth. "I just want it to be something that's never been done before. Something... original."

Kat laughed. Y/N was sure she meant nothing negative by it, but she couldn't help the embarrassed hurt that settled in the pit of her stomach. "There's nothing original these days," Kat said. "Don't stress it too much - I don't want to have to coax you out of another panic attack the day before it's due."

"Yeah, I guess so..."

The rest of the evening was spent watching the first few episodes of an anime Y/N had promised Kat she would indulge in with her. But her mind wandered back to schoolwork.

She had absolutely no idea what she would create for the project. She wondered if maybe she could figure something out with building a small robot that could perform basic tasks like bringing objects to its owner or recognizing shapes and colors. But all of that felt far too basic.

Here she was with the opportunity to show her worth - and she couldn't even come up with a single idea.

With one more hug and a last congratulations on her landing the job - Kat left for the night. Y/N wandered back up to her room and focused on planning out her fall garden before switching over to her homework for the evening. After a while, she grew restless as she thought about going back to the plex the next day.

Y/N had barely spent a few hours with the solar animatronic and she was already looking forward to seeing him again. She was so eager to know more about him and how he worked - from the programs and protocols he had to the personality traits he could mimic. She thought about the interactions Sun had with the children again and how gentle he had been.

God, she wasn't normal.

Long after the sun had set and she had grown tired, Y/N finally began her bedtime routine. She hoped Sun would be able to answer her questions about his programming tomorrow. And if he couldn't, she would just ask Max herself and see what he knew.

******

A/N: So! How are we feeling about the first chapter?? I've been so excited to show you guys!!! I hope it met your expectations and that it was a far better show of my actual writing talent hahah

Remember, my Tumblr asks are OPEN for the characters of this story! So if you'd like to ask any of the main characters some questions, feel free!

Anyways, as always, likes, comments, kudos, and reblogs are GREATLY appreciated!

Stay sweet, my lovelies~!

The taglist peeps! @senyahgirl @rose-blot @sunyandmony (message me or comment to be added!)

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