Tumgik
#hopefully this shows up in the tags aha
maebees-stuff · 2 years
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*-But I guess the game didn't like the data very much because this pet was only one blue circle. Yeah, just ONE blue circle floating in the air.
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strangerthingspolls · 11 months
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staryukis · 4 months
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now playing. . . ⇢ SATORU'S iPOD 🍥🍬
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Playlist (1 of 1)
▶ Lose My Breath - Destiny's Child 12:11
▶ The Church of Hot Addiction - Cobra Starship 12:15
▶ 주문 (MIROTIC) - TVXQ! 12:19
▶ I'm A Slave 4 U - Britney Spears 12:23
▶ Hella Good - No Doubt 12:27
▶ Glamorous - Fergie, Ludacris 12:31
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“hey satoru, isn’t this yours?”
satoru lifted his head up at the sound of shoko’s voice, eyebrow perched in curiosity as he looked across the room full of scattered boxes to see shoko holding a small device in her hands. 
“oh shit, yeah.” satoru huffed out a laugh, standing up straighter now and maneuvering his way around the boxes to stand closer to the brunette, plucking the device from her grasp and spinning it around in his hands as he examined it. “it’s my old ipod, damnnn… i thought i lost this baby for good.” he snickered as his eyes flicked over to shoko. “where’d you find it?”
“it was in this box.” shoko gestured towards the object in question, lifting a pile of tangled cables out of the box for show before dropping them back inside. “i found it under this pile.”
satoru hummed, stepping closer as he examined the contents of the cardboard box. “you think the charger is in here too?” he mumbled with a mischievous wiggle of his eyebrows, grinning as he searched the box and the mess of cables for his old charger. 
“i doubt you’d be able to find anything in that mess.” shoko muttered, crossing her arms over her chest with an amused glint in her eyes as she watched the sorcerer before her sort through the old electronics. “i was just about to give up with that box if it wasn’t for the stupid digimon stickers you stuck all over your ipod making it stick out like a sore thumb.” 
satoru laughed at this, waving a dismissive hand at his old friend. “aren’t you glad that old man yaga had us do an inventory check.” he sneered, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he searched with a determined furrow in his brows before spotting the white cable. “aha! gotcha…”
shoko scoffed lightheartedly, narrowing her eyes as she watched satoru untangle the charger from the other cables. “a year-end inventory check with boxes that have been in storage for over a decade is not how i pictured spending my day.”
“hey now,” satoru giggled as he successfully pulled the charger out of the box, turning to face shoko with the objects in his hands. “just think of it as a bonding experience with your good old friend — me!”
at that shoko rolled her eyes, but she still followed satoru as he stepped around the other boxes again and approached the nearest outlet. she figured this would be more entertaining than sorting through some dusty storage for another hour.
“now, let’s see… how the hell do you turn this thing on again?”
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˗ˏˋa/n: happy december !!! i heard kinkmas is a thing so here's a hopefully unique little setup for the month 🤭.. the timestamps are actually the dates i'll be uploading each fic, and they're all going to be f!reader x sashisu with each character getting 2 dedicated songs of the one's ive listed 🫶🏼 the songs i picked are also being used as prompts so it'll give u an idea of what to expect for each fic !! if you’d like to join a taglist for this lmk; this is 18+ only you must have your age visible on your blog!! you can also request for which of the three you’d like to be tagged in for if not all of them heh.. hope u guys will tune in<3 (pun intended)
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siobhanmull · 3 months
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fun facts about me (tag game)
thanks to @elizmanderson for the tag! no-pressure tags for @audliminal @allmyuglyorgans and @usagiwaffles
a scent you love:
vanilla extract. genuinely. i know this is the vanilla extract site, but i love the smell of vanilla extract.
something you're looking forward to this week:
hopefully making some mince pies, since my holiday baking got delayed by unforeseen circumstances
a book you're currently reading:
none at the moment! just finished Margaret Meyer's The Witching Tide. next on the list will either be Julia Armfeld's Our Wives Under the Sea or Alix E. Harrow's Starling House.
a game you're currently playing:
baldur's gate 3. i have been playing this game since it came out and i still haven't made it past act 1 lmao. i also picked up totk for the first time in aaaaages the other day. i will slowly but surely continue to make progress
the most recent movie you watched:
Klaus (2019) - very cute, very fun, especially as someone who's meh on most Christmas movies
a show you're watching or listening to:
i've been dipping back into Upstart Crow for a laugh + really enjoyed the Doctor Who Christmas special!
your favorite season:
spring! upside: birthday + flowers + return of greenery + sense of renewal after the long nights of winter. downside: allergies.
something you've learned recently:
whales molt! i have been excitedly informing my family of this fact ever since i learned it.
have you had any water lately?
i saw this post, went "aha! i will go drink some water before replying!", immediately got distracted, and forgot to drink water. i am going to go drink a glass of water RIGHT NOW!!!
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nappybones5 · 9 months
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What are your favorite things about Raven x Taiyang ship? Outside of their whole relationship not getting showed in the show, is there something you don't like about the ship?
What songs remind you of them?
Thanks for the ask, first off, and sorry I’ve taken a little to get back to you. This took me a bit to type up and I did it instead of working on more Phoenix stories lmao. I did end up getting a bit grouchy about Tai as a character, so fair warning, there’s a bit of critical content here; you can of course scroll right past it to get to the good stuff.
Probably my favourite thing about Raven x Taiyang is the fanfiction; it’s as you say, their relationship is never actually shown in the show, a ship that sunk well before it even sailed-which, fair. It’s not their show. But it still irritates me, because Raven was a character who immediately caught my interest on Youtube because she was hot, and then I watched those videos and I thought “oh wow this lady’s got some serious baggage”. That scene in V5, where Raven’s gaze drops from Yang to the ground and she breathes Tai’s name piqued my interest in that man a thousandfold, and then it turns out he’s…there. He’s been sitting on his ass at home, gardening and gawking the telly while his children fight in the forever war that he must have some idea of, if his glare to Qrow at the end of V3 meant anything. It’s been said before by others: Tai being the stay-at-home parent in an empty house makes no sense. It’s authorial intervention to make sure the protagonists didn’t curbstomp their way through the events of V4-5 with two veteran Huntsmen (sidenote, how cool would it have been if instead of doing nothing and getting left behind by the story, Tai had accompanied Yang to Raven? I mean, shit, if Raven had an out-of-body moment at the mere mention of her ex-husband what would his presence in those scenes have done? The angst! The drama! I AM LITERALLY PICTURING A SCENE IN WHICH Raven ushers them into the tent without a fight, she’s twiddling her thumbs like “aha well, you see…fuck” while Vernal is like “why…is she…OH YOU MUST BE TAI” and then Weiss breaks out of the cage and she’s wiping the floor with those tribal jobbers-and Raven turns to Tai and Yang while they have no idea what's going on, Yang’s instinctively stood up before Tai’s like “nah this sounds like a her problem” and Yang goes “oh yeahhhhh! Good luck bitch lmao”).
You ask what I don’t like about the ship. I’d argue there’s nothing to dislike, because there is practically nothing there, beyond the maddening tease of a handful of scenes that never amount to anything. What I do dislike are the characters as they are written in canon-Raven is hilariously incoherent (“Salem only uses people until they are no longer useful” “…Are you having a stroke” “Yes. Vernal get help”) and Tai is boringly incoherent. They make no sense and they reek of wasted potential.
But the fanfiction. The shit that fan writers get up to when they’re not being hemmed in by canon. <> I originally had a little list of recommendations written up, but on second thought I am unsure how comfortable those writers would be with getting mentioned in a post that is probably going to be tagged RWDE. So…rest assured, there’s some good shit out there, you just have to look. But my favourite one is a genfic that isn’t tagged Raven Branwen/Taiyang Xiao Long. So I’m sorry. <>
Aside from the fanfiction that started all this, I guess I’m also very fond of my own interpretation of Phoenix; think black cat golden retriever, except that the cat is a desperate thing and the dog is mangy as all hell, because I’ve said it before, I don’t like fanon STRQ-era fuckboy Tai. It’s nothing personal, I just don’t care for writing that kind of archetype. Canon Tai isn’t particularly interesting to me either. I consider him a narrative deadweight EXCEPT in the matter of how he relates to Raven, who is far and away the more compelling character to me (hopefully it doesn’t show in my writing, considering what I’m about to get into).
Writing Tai for me personally has been like constantly asking myself the question: Who did Raven Branwen fall in love with? My answer, and I guess parcelled with it the answer to your first question, about what I actually like about Phoenix, is that Raven fell in love with someone who was so unexpectedly like her-with all her rage and doubt and hurt-someone who has suffered, if not measure for measure, a life not unlike hers, and who yet despite it all is still holding out hope-is still fundamentally a good person. Life in the tribe broke that scared little girl-it made her solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short. Tai, on the other hand, drank his milk. With Tai, she doesn’t get the excuse of ‘life was shitty to me so I’m dealing it back’; he sees her, and Raven likewise, because to their mutual shock and rage, they’re looking into a mirror.
I know opposites attract is and probably always will be in romantic vogue, but I like to think that that trope is only the superficial appearance of Phoenix. I imagine them initially enraged by each other, barely able to breathe in the same room without scoffing or making some biting joke (more often than not Raven instigating, Tai retaliating). As the seasons change, rage cools to resignation, and a kind of morbid curiosity sets in. From Raven’s perspective: Why are you like this? Where do you find the will to care? I need to know. From Tai’s: Why are you like this? Can I help you? I want to help. Them working their way from a tentative ceasefire to a comfortable peace; days and days gone without a backbiting that feels so petty and pointless to them now-or if it persists, everyone can feel that there’s no more heat to it. They’re together more often than they’re not-they’re the only people that can pull each other back from the brink, that can realise that the ever-mediative Tai or the taciturn Raven was even there. One blazing day in spring, the sun is on her skin and his hands are in her hair and her mind can only stutter out a double ‘Oh’ before their lips brush and it occurs to her that even if she runs now, she’ll stay. So for a brief and blessed time, she stays, whole, taking an anxious, guilty pleasure in this life that she hates she doesn’t hate. Even after everything she’s done, maybe she has a right to life too. Coming home every day to a home she’s never known-he smells like timber and stock, roses and earth. He’s warm when she’s cold, he’s kind to her when she’s cruel to herself-he holds her as the setting sun washes them in rosegold and she hopes.
And then Yang is born. It’s hardly her fault-for the first week or so, Raven loves her. But the creep of post-partum depression exacerbates all that old rage and doubt and hurt. She’s angrier than usual and she doesn’t know why. Why is she here? She’s killed dozens of men like Tai before-good men, fathers. She’s killed the occasional scrawny kid who fought back, who decided their mementos were worth more to them than their shitty lives. And she gets to be a mother? One day she looks at Yang and she’s just. Disgusted. She’s disgusted by her, and suddenly she’s terrified by herself. She’s going to get someone killed. Well, she can do that somewhere else.
Tai left to father Yang, alone. Raven in the thick of her PPD, making a name for herself across Anima. Nodding until her head hurts when she’s sober and her mind is drawn home. Yes, she made the right choice.
And then the lift of that awful fog. Just as she’s earned the title of ‘Bandit Queen’ it feels worse than meaningless. What the fuck is she doing? Where’s Tai, where’s Yang? Stumbling through that portal. She left them without a damn thing, what was she expecting? They look happy together. She won’t ruin that for them, not again. She staggers back through the portal, heart still rotting in that old home.
Years and years and years passing, letting this new wound scab and scar but it still stings, the worst mistake she’ll ever pay for. Every night, tired eyes to the tent roof, wondering what the look on Tai’s face would be if she cut a path to him right now. She twists, he turns, they grasp at nothing and laugh at jokes half-remembered in the dark. He misses the person he used to be. She doesn’t. She wishes she’d been better.
My favourite thing about Raven x Taiyang is all the shit I made up about them. As for the music!
Going in chronological order of the progression of the relationship, I love to imagine Perfect Pair as a mood for Raven and Tai in their prime. A love unconditional, trusting the other to hold their heart in their hands without breaking it. This followed by the super-sentimental Herz über Kopf (Heart over Head), Raven fighting all the torturous insecurities she has about her right to this life. Two optimistic songs, followed by the steel chair of Tek It to the face, Tai trying to shrug off the betrayal, Raven more than faintly ashamed. This to be emphasised by Out of My League, as a song from her perspective after it finally, really hits her what she’s done. And conclude with Show Me How, a song I reckon perfectly encapsulates the sense of lost love that is radiated by these absolutely miserable, mourning, yearning people. 😊
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themculibrary · 4 months
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Steve & Bucky Meeting Masterlist
But I Will Never Forget! (ao3) - debwalsh steve/bucky N/R, 1k
Summary: Have a little baby Steve and Bucky to cleanse your palate.
Steve never liked bullies. Never. Turns out, neither did Bucky Barnes.
Drawing Fire (ao3) - Atsadi G, 1k
Summary: Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes did indeed meet in a schoolyard fight, but it wasn't quite how everyone assumed.
Dumpster Youth (ao3) - nine_thursdays steve/bucky G, 322
Summary: The day Captain America meets Sergeant Barnes...Of course, back when they were young, they were Stevie and Bucky...
In the Beginning... (ao3) - LoveMeSomeRafael steve/bucky E, 251k
Summary: This ambitious project is intended to be a several-part series. Each part will cover an era in Steve and Bucky's lives. (There's an outline, even.) It's meant to be a fairly long story, built around sticking as close to MCU canon as possible. The intention is to create a framework by including canon scenes and dialogue to anchor your place in the MCU movies, while building out the backstory - what happened before, after, and between those scenes. And then to carry the story forward as though Steve's nonsensical decision in Endgame didn't happen (because it didn't - I have spoken) to show Steve and Bucky living happily after after. Tags will be updated as I go. You know the story: you can expect sweetness and fluff, (hopefully) humor, coming of age, romance and sex, pain, adventure, war and horror, Nazis and Hydra, creepy asshole "scientists", and all the usual Avengers suspects. It'll be the story of an inevitable friendship born of mutual admiration when Steve and Bucky are so young they afterwards don't remember ever not being best friends. It will follow that friendship as it deepens through shared history and trauma and grows into the love of a lifetime.
My Thoughts on You (ao3) - hokage35 steve/bucky T, 19k
Summary: “So I guess that leads me to ask, are there any boys you like in your class?” Tony wiggled his eyebrows, breaking the short silence.
Steve blushed profusely.
“Aha,” Tony clapped his hands together. “There are. Come on tell me.”
Proprioception (ao3) - aimmyarrowshigh steve/bucky T, 100
Summary: Proprioception. Steve was always on Bucky's left.
redamancy (ao3) - stevebuckybrainrot steve/bucky M, 73k
Summary: Redamancy {re - da - man - cy}
n. the act of loving someone who loves you; a love returned in full
"Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers were inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield."
Before the war, before Nazis and aliens and time travel, there was this: scorching summers and bitter winters, sketchbooks and paintbrushes, bruised knuckles and split lips, stolen kisses and lingering looks. There was Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes and a love to last through the ages.
And nothing else mattered.
The Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship (ao3) - dottieapple steve/bucky G, 2k
Summary: The new school year is barely under way, and tiny, daydreaming 8-year-old Steve Rogers is already in trouble at school. Little does he know he's about to make a friend 'til the end of the line.
When We Were Young (ao3) - Starlight_Silver G, 1k
Summary: James laughed. “Alright church-boy. Hey, you never told me you Christian name.” “It’s Steven,” the boy said. “Steven Grant Rogers. And you are?” “James Buchanan Barnes, named after the one-and-only President James Buchanan, son of George Neville Barnes, and winner of the all-out St. Katherine’s Schoolyard Marbles Championship.” Steven snorted. “Well, I ain’t never gonna remember all that. How ‘bout Bucky for short?” **** Or: Eleven-year-old Steve and Twelve-year-old Bucky bond in the schoolyard over beating up bullies.
Winifred and Mrs. Rogers (ao3) - gossamerthreads G, 7k
Summary: The first time Steve Rogers and James Barnes meet they burst into the courtyard yelling and hollering, fists and feet kicking up dirt. Steve sank his teeth into James’s upper arm and James howled and punched him in the eye. By the time their mothers pulled them apart the whole neighborhood was leaning out to watch.
James got the switch, Sarah wore out a shoe on Steve’s behind, and both boys swore they’d be mortal enemies for life.
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I posted 2,748 times in 2022
19 posts created (1%)
2,729 posts reblogged (99%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@shakespeareanqueer
@trailmixtime
@hotchocolatedictator
@fanfictiongreenirises
@brightsunnydaysofcastamere
I tagged 2,732 of my posts in 2022
Only 1% of my posts had no tags
#elle's queue - 2,468 posts
#non fandom - 1,186 posts
#doctor who - 612 posts
#dw - 609 posts
#miraculous ladybug - 275 posts
#miraculous: tales of ladybug & cat noir - 273 posts
#ml - 273 posts
#encanto - 234 posts
#disney's encanto - 127 posts
#critical role - 91 posts
Longest Tag: 140 characters
#i saw a tiktok where they put sid the sloth over bruno over bruno's part in the final song and. it was sid. it was sid doing a lin manuel mi
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
Didn't Have It In Myself to go With Grace
Part 1 | Part 2 (you're here!) | Part 3 | Part 4 |
Pairing: 10th Doctor x Reader
Word Count: 4,228
Warnings: We're getting some minor violence and body horror
Summary: The Doctor takes you and Donna to Arteides for the biggest wedding in the universe. You have a grand time, meeting the queens, taking in the music, and suffering the far too knowing gaze of one particular Queen. The party, unfortunately, is rudely interrupted.
A/N: So firstly, apologies this is so late!! I'm definitely continuing this, thanks for sticking with me! Also I was kinda misleading in the first part. This story will have an unhappy ending, the happy ending comes in the sequel, which is already in the works!
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118 notes - Posted October 30, 2022
#4
We never go out of style
Pairing: 13th Doctor x Reader
Word Count: 3,613
Warnings: Suit!13, a ridiculous amount of pining
Summary: Before going to an alien queens function, the Doctor tasks herself to fixing your outfit. There seems to be a bit of tension between the two of you, which isn’t helped when the Doctor begins to... experiment with it. Featuring the season 11 & 12 fam because I miss them. 
A/N: Y’all there’s so much pining in this that I’m tempted to write a sequel, lemme know if you’re interested in that aha. Note: Reader is wearing a dress, but their gender is never specified.
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208 notes - Posted January 26, 2022
#3
Didn't Have It In Myself to go With Grace
Part 1 (You’re here!) | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |
Pairing: 10th Doctor x Reader
Word Count: 1,735
Warnings: None in this installment, major character death and minor violence in future
Summary: You, Donna, and the Doctor, have a conversation over the merits of what counts as a ballgown after you saw Donna wear one. The thing is though, she blatantly denies it.
A/N: This will be a 4 part series, followed by a sequel series with the 13th Doctor. Don’t be too scared by the warnings, the sequel will 100% provide a happy ending, I’ve already written it.  Next part will be (hopefully) posted next week. Hope y’all enjoy!
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228 notes - Posted January 26, 2022
#2
Falling feels like flying (till the bone crush)
Pairing: Eleventh Doctor x Reader, Tenth Doctor x Reader, Ninth Doctor x Reader
Word Count: 2, 243
Warnings: All angst, no happy ending
Summary: Reader is faced with a gross realisation. What everyone has been saying about her is true, she's a flight risk. Now it's up to her to show the Doctor that.
A/N: This entire thing literally only exists because I read Flight Risk by @storytelling-timelord so from one Elle to another, thank you for giving me the jump start I need to get to writing again!! For everyone else, I super recommend reading her stuff!!
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314 notes - Posted October 16, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
Gravity Keeping You with Me
Pairing: Luisa Madrigal x Reader
Warnings: None
Word Count: 2,710
Summary: Whilst collecting carts on the edge of town after a freak mudslide, Luisa spots you in the market and is instantly smitten.
A/N: No because I'm obsessed with this woman. So I've bit the bullet and I'm writing for Luisa. Sorry for the length, this was supposed to be a 500 word drabble but,,, it's not,,,
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429 notes - Posted January 22, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
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criminal-sen · 1 year
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Bullet has warmed up to me enough that he's comfortable sitting on my shoulder so today I took him for a tour around the house
And like. Idk theres something so cheesy yet SO cool about showing a little guy mundane things and having them be excited about it. Like this is the bathroom! *standing on hind legs and sniffing* this is my desk! *crawls down my arm and sniffs* and he was just. So thrilled to be going for a New Adventure😭💕
(Since I always tag Nugget, he is still making progress too! Just he's always so shy at first. And I've discovered that it's really hard to pay close attention to both of them at once, especially bc Bullet's gotten to 'aha I can shimmy to the OUTSIDE of the cage when the door is open>:3' phase. So he will hopefully get his adventure soon lol
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burnedbyshoto · 3 years
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i wonder
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i wonder (if you remember the way we looked at each other)
— Living as roommates with your best friend is easy until someone fucks up and catches feelings.
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pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader
warnings: 18+, smut fem!reader, and they were roommates, childhood friends!au, university!au, quirkless!au, modern!au, americanized university experience, alcohol consumption, drug consumption, the plot is for the sex AHA, womanizer!shouto, shouto and reader are bad roommates but seiji is worse, shouto has sex at 16 for the first time, vouyerism-ish, iffy shouto tendencies, jealous!shouto, jealous!reader, drunk sex so dubcon depending on you, nipplegasms, reader has nipple piercings, blowjob, switching, marking, biting, scratching, praise kink, missing tag ;)
word count: 20,141
a/n: this is for the roommates bnharem collab! please check out all the other amazing fics and art! note to self, dont get drunk the night before this is due and I hope you guys enjoy this!!! I had a lot of fun writing it!!! also,,, sorry if mobile doesn’t correctly format!
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You cracked your eyes open.
The gentle white stream of light permeated through soft cotton curtains, lighting the room in pale stripes and careful touches. Dust particles danced within the shining light, bending and twirling with the flowing air and moving winds. You breathed in deeply, your body still tired, your head still foggy from a night of distractions and too many drinks. 
Your eyes are closed once again, your still hazy mind trying to ignore the bitter, rank taste of the alcohol and cum on your tongue and your hands scratching as your naked cleavage. There was still enough time in the day; it was Sunday after—
Wait.
CUM?!
Your eyes flew open, your lips smacking each other as you confirm the awful, salty taste of cum on your tongue. Your hands swiping up and down your front to confirm your state of undress. Your heart starts hammering in your chest, your palms immediately sweating as you try to think about just who the fuck you ended up back in bed with.
Think, y/n, think!
A small grunt came from behind you, and you felt your entire body go rigid immediately. The soft expel of air fanning against your sticky neck is both welcomed and untrusted. With what can only be described as you, as stiff as a stick, peering behind your shoulder similar to a mother who definitely heard her child throw up on her bed but is somehow praying that she was hearing shit, you turned around.
A messy bedhead of red and white greeted you: unfocused, sleepy grey, and brilliant blue eyes staring back at you with fond familiarity and welcome.
“‘Morning, y/n,” Todoroki Shouto grumbles, voice husky, scratchy, deeply warm from his slumber. His next words are damning, though, the slight pride and knowing implications in the small breathe he uttered next. “Had fun last night?”
There was silence, a stroke of hesitancy, then crushing all-consuming fear.
You screamed.
At the top of your lungs.
O N E  W E E K  A N D  A  D A Y  E A R L I E R
“Who the fuck touched my fucking Angry Orchard Rosés?!” a voice snapped from the kitchen; the tone was fed up, seconds from blasting to smithereens.
You were in the living room, a pair of sweats on, your hair not put together, your face still bare. The music you played as part of your pregame ritual was practically vibrating the wooden floor as you sang along to your music. The telling glass bottle of deliciously pink alcohol swinging inconspicuously between your fingers as you drank it between verses. Despite your other roommate (who you repeatedly told your friends to be ‘like Bakugou but a gazillion times worse because you don’t and can’t like him,’) being seconds from trying to start another feud or possibly a lawsuit against you, your mouth dropped in mock shock before guzzling down the rest of the drink.
“I saw that you fucking skank!” Shishikura Seiji screeched from the kitchen; his stomps were long and heavy as he made his way from the kitchen to the living room where you were. “There were two bottles left in there! Don’t tell me your alcoholic ass drank them both! So help me, I’ll press on your damn chest until you’re puking out my drink.”
“Shishikura, stop,” Shouto spoke up, his own arm raising as he took a long, slow drink from the other missing rosé bottle. “These are 2% alcohol, you’ve had them in the fridge for months now, and you never drink them anyways.”
You grinned as you pulled the glass bottle from your lip, your face failing at the fake look of surprise, guilt, and sorrow for your unwanted and unneeded roommate.
“Sorry, they’re such girly drinks. I figured I’d take them off your hands,” you speak with distractingly bright amusement. “Alcoholics like me, we don’t care. Watch out; I might go for your mouth wash if you’re not too careful.”
“You do that, and I’ll poison you like a damn bitch,” Shishikura threatened, his voice in a menacing growl.
“Ooooo, you want me to bark for you, Shishikura? Want me on my hands and knees?” you taunt back, walking backward until you’re collapsing onto the couch besides Shouto. Your arm quickly sneaks between his, and you lay your head on his shoulder. Shishikura’s face is flushed red, his pupils beady as he trembles with concealed rage.
“She’s quite good at it,” Shouto chimes in, the corner of his mouth twitching into an amused smirk as he takes another drink of the weak liquor. He shifts on the couch, allowing you to curl more comfortably at his side; the both of you know just how much your incredibly prude roommate hates any sort of PDA. “Want to hear her bark? She’s also quite good with her tongue.”
As if to emphasize Shouto’s point, you stuck out your tongue, refusing to break eye contact with Shishikura as the tip of your tongue breached the opening of the bottle.
“The actual fuck is wrong with the both of you?!” Shishikura spluttered, his face somehow turning purple and green and red. A truly incredible sight to be had. “‘Childhood friends are great roommates to have’ my fucking ass, you both are monstrosities!”
Shishikura stormed out of the living room, his ears neon red as his purple hair fell to cover his face. As soon as he was out of sight, you turned to Shouto, your tongue removing itself from the bottle and back into your mouth as you began to laugh loudly.
Childhood friends to roommates, ah, what a remarkable story you had with Todoroki Shouto.
It was accurate to relay that you had known Shouto for more than seventeen years now at your current age of twenty-one. Seventeen years of being what is easily seen as the best of friends, the closest companions, and indeed a bond that would withstand time and situation. 
The two of you met during the first week of what was preschool. Although both of you could not remember a single instance of events during this time, your mothers had always been excited to relay this story to you for many years that you could remember. It was odd to try to remember it, but even as they painted a picture of your first interaction, you could do nothing but admit that it sounded exactly like how it could have gone. 
You couldn’t remember being four years old; you don’t recall what it was like to strain your neck to look up at your parents or how it felt to be so utterly dependent but to scream brazenly about your childish independence. Your mother smiles when she retells the story of your first interaction, of how you were holding her hand as she walked you to the building where your preschool was to be had. 
Your hand was so small in hers. Tightly clutching onto her fingers as you looked around at the other children who were also arriving or had already arrived. Some children were bawling by their parents, others aimlessly playing with toys, and some were attempting to talk to one another, but by the apparent looks of curiosity surrounding the babbling and rambling tangents that could only be understood by a firing toddler brain, everyone was getting along. 
A teacher greeted you kindly, squatting down to reach your eye level as they excitedly introduced themselves and asked for your name. You, of course, with your hands clutching the skirts of your mother’s dress, responded with hesitant confidence.
“You’re such a brave girl!” the teacher awed happily, stretching out a hand for you. “Is it okay if I take you from your mom and show you which cubby is yours?”
There was a moment of confusion, then clear understanding hovering over your little head. Your mom looked down with an encouraging smile and pushed you forward.
“Do I get a middle cubby? I don’t want a top one,” you admit, your hand stretching out to grab the teacher’s stretched-out hand. 
Your mother watched on happily as you removed your schoolbag and lunchpail and placed them neatly within the somehow middle cubby marked with your name. The teacher also helped you put on your white school slippers before gesturing towards the bright, colorful room, their mouth moving as if explaining every little detail before pointing at the corner. Your mother tilted her head, curious as she followed the teachers point to the corner of the room where a boy with exceptional red and white hair — split perfectly in the middle — sat quietly, with fat tears rolling down his cheeks.
(Shouto, although he can not remember this day himself, will argue with you and only you that he was, in fact, NOT crying.)
Trying to not allow the shock of the unnatural hair color affect her, your mother watched as you nodded to your new teacher and walked over with clenched fist confidence to the small boy.
She watched as you approached him, your jaw moving as you so obviously spoke, hopefully introducing yourself. The boy looked up at you with bright, wet eyes but seemed to speak right back to you. 
“Alright, parents! Thank you all for dropping off your children! Do not worry. We will take great care of them all, and they are in competent hands! First days are hard for everyone, so if you can exit quietly, I, and the rest of us teachers, would appreciate that greatly!”
Or at least that’s what Rei claimed the teacher said.  However, your mother was watching on with increasing exponential horror as she watched you throw a punch at the air before twisting around and pointing right at her and saying with a voice that was much too loud.
“Punch whoever made you cry, Shouto-chan! My mama says that it is okay to punch bullies!”
Thankfully no one but your mother heard you, and even though she scolded you on the way out, whisper yelling that you “better not punch anyone!” her relief was for naught.
When she would return in the afternoon, a bit late because there had been a hold up on the train, you were pouting sitting on the floor with a scuffled uniform, your arms crossed definitely. Next to you was the boy with red and white hair, equally scuffed next to a white-haired woman and an older white-haired boy.
“Oh my god, what happened?!” she shrieked, racing over to you.
“Y/l/n-san,” the teacher spoke with a tone that indicated disappointment with the subtle undertone of amusement. “Y/n-chan has something to tell you.”
Your mother had taught you many things, she will admit, in your very short life. But sass and annoyment was something not often seen in your household or in you, and to see it so blatantly on your chubby-cheeked face was quickly giving your mother greys.
“Shouto-chan told me that his stupid bully brother Touya was being a meanie, and so I helped him punch him back!” you said with tears in your eyes because you didn’t want to back down from your actions, but you also did not like being scolded. “I don’t regret it!”
“Y/n!”
“Y/n-chan!”
“I don’t either,” Shouto-chan grumbled as your mother collapsed to her knees and began to profusely apologize for you to the woman who was undoubtedly Shouto’s mother. “Touya-nii was making fun of my hair again… y/n-chan helped me, though. Please don’t scold her!”
To say the most in the shortest amount of time, you were, in fact, scolded despite Shouto’s begging. Touya stopped making fun of Shouto’s natural hair. Rei accepted your mother’s apology. The teachers were given two bottles of sake.
And, of course, the most important, the most paramount thing to arise from this first day of school was that your and Todoroki Shouto’s friendship was now bound by blood, sweat, and tears.
Preschool became elementary school, which became middle school, and fading into highschool.
It was without saying that your relationship, your friendship with Todoroki Shouto, was probably one of the biggest, most defining parts of your entire life. He was there when your first tooth fell out, when he dropped ice cubes down people’s shirts, you two had bathed together when you were young, had sleepovers well past the age where him being a boy and you being a girl should have made things weird. You laughed when his voice cracked and dropped, he elbowed your chest plenty when you began growing boobs, you taunted his lack of body hair, he bought you your favorite ice cream and heating packs on your first period. You attended cram school together, went to the park and beaches on days off from school. You were partners in every school activity except under specific circumstances. He had listened to you when you told him excitedly about your first kiss when you turned fourteen, and you laughed when he said at the age of fifteen that he had still yet to kiss anyone.
Everyone always claimed, always asked, wondered, and whispered if the two of you were dating. Childhood friends still this close and not dating? Unheard of; practically illegal! Nevertheless, you ignored the disappointed frowns or the hopeful grins as you and Shouto both denied any sort of romantic connection.
Soon the both of you were in high school, and Shouto was mere days from turning sixteen. Much like when the both of you were when you were four years old, you seemed to be the one spouting many words — sometimes unnecessary words that wound you both up in trouble — of wisdom. You were loud when you needed, talking most of the time only to him and your surprisingly large group of friends. (You weren’t that surprised. Everyone wanted to be friends with the handsome, could easily be royalty or a model, Todoroki Shouto.) Shouto remained, for better or worse, quiet, reserved, and a bit awkward. He was a sweet boy, don’t get it wrong, and you would protect him until the end of your days, but the boy was a complete airhead and relied on you for interpreting social interactions.
“Camie-senpai wants me to go over to her house after my birthday,” Shouto explains, his hands exchanging his school shoes for his outdoor ones. “Something about wanting to do that one second-year first-year student project thing for the third years right away.”
“You have Camie?” you ask, slumping against the metal lockers with a slight thud. “Lucky, she’s so nice… I have stupid Agoyamato. Have you had a conversation with him? It’s actually the worst! He thinks he’s all that!”
“I’m sure it’ll be okay; you’re nice enough that he won’t be like… that,” Shouto smiles, slinging his bag on his shoulders before nudging his head towards the exit. “Ready?”
“Am I ever ready?” you ask with a whine but nevertheless proceed onward.
Time passed, and between cram school, actual school, some clubs, eventually January 11th passed and you held an ice cream cake that Shouto loved. You ate the cake together, relaxing as you sat in the warmth of his kitchen.
“Happy birthday, Shoucchan, never change!” you chirp, shoving his arm that rose to place the piece of cake in his mouth with your shoulder and watched as the sweet pastry splattered on top of the table. “...um?”
“I’ll give you ten seconds to run.”
“Only ten?! What about the happy birthday boy.”
“Oh, true. Three seconds to run.”
“Why?!”
“It’s my birthday.”
An hour later, when your stomach hurt from laughing too much and the sickly sweet weight of too much ice cream cake, you lay snuggled into Shouto’s side as the both of you watched some old movie.
“Thanks for always being here for me,” you mumble, eyes growing heavy as the heat of Shouto’s body began to lull you to sleep.
“I’m always here for you,” Shouto softly responded, hand gliding up and down the curve of your spine. “We should get you home. Your mom yelled and nearly skinned us both the last time you fell asleep here.”
“Only cuz she’s scared that we’ll have some sudden revelation we like each other and fuck each other’s brains out,” you groaned, absolutely not content with having to move. With your face buried in your hands now, you missed the weird pattern in Shouto’s chest over that.
“Come on, let’s go.”
“...fine, just because it’s your birthday.”
The next day, when Shouto followed Camie home instead of you, there was something that made you feel off as you waved at them goodbye. It wasn’t jealousy, that much you knew, but something worse when you watched the way your never-been-kissed-before best friend was ignorant to the dark eyes Camie sent his way.
To be quite honest, you’re not sure if you should be as surprised as you are when you get a phone call at ten p.m. to the sound of a confused, suppressed, overwhelmed voice of your best friend asking if you could confirm if Camie had fucked him. You then stayed on the phone for Shouto until well past two a.m., your heart hurting as he recounted the memory over and over again. You weren’t sure as to why your heart was breaking. By the sounds of it, Shouto had actually enjoyed it, but with every stammer to his voice, you felt lightyears away.
Most shockingly, however, was the effects this had on Shouto and his overall persona.
From ages four until fifteen, Todoroki Shouto was someone who was quiet, observant, took things a bit too literally, at all times was entirely precious in the way he interacted with people, and most importantly, unaware of the female population who lusted after him. It worked well for you because it was fun to tease him about things, nag him about how he was sixteen, and hadn’t been kissed even though if he asked any girl at school to kiss him, they definitely would. 
But sixteen-year-old Todoroki Shouto was a new shift, a new paradigm for you to learn. It wasn’t that he wasn’t confident before, but now he emitted a sense of confidence that he was aware of, that everyone was aware of. He became mature, sophisticated, styled even. He was still at times quiet, always completely observant. He rarely took things literally and understood rhetoric and sarcasm and hyperboles. Long gone were the days of preciousness, and instead, there was a sense of a predator on the hunt that bled in the way that he talked to people. Most importantly, however, he was fully aware of the female population and precisely who was lusting after him.
He flirted with women and girls. You would find him leaning against the lockers talking with them, somehow trapping them despite not actually trapping them. A new girl was sitting at your table with him practically every week in high school, each girl asking for the hundredth millionth time that the both of you were not dating. Some girls were even bold enough to apologize to you for stealing your best friend — as if you wanted Shouto.
You had already seen his dick, thank you very much (although the last time you saw it was well before you were nine years old), you weren’t missing out on how it probably looked now! Honestly, you had no idea how Shouto never managed to run out of female students to fuck, the school wasn’t that large, and he seemed to go through a few a week sometimes.
But he was your best friend, your childhood friend, and no matter how many girls came crawling back to your lunch table, bawling to Shouto to take him back, soaking the fabric of your skirt to help convince him to take her back, you stayed. You stayed, accepting the fact that your best friend had become an awkward teenage boy and turned into some high school sex freak.
You stayed when his shaggy hairstyle was clipped and became short.
Overnight, just as he went from being a complete virgin to not one, he went from a scrawny sixteen-year-old boy to a leanly built eighteen-year-old hot-ass heartthrob womanizer.
High school wasn’t forever. Even though it took you about a year to accept and integrate Shouto’s new sex life and behavior into your daily lifestyle with him (he always left four of the three days open for you as all his relationships were casual only). Soon enough, the both of you relaxed and found your own relationship to be entirely the same, and when university exams and applications came about, it was decided that yet again, the both of you would follow each other anywhere.
Which is where you were now.
Tokyo University,  a third-year student, living in an upscale three-person apartment with your best friend, of course. Shouto plus someone who practically begged in the most unbegging way to live with you.
Todoroki Shouto and Shishikura Seiji in the same apartment as you made for an interesting combination.
You hadn’t wanted Shishikura Seiji as a roommate at all. Period. 
There were about eleven other people you only considered asking, but they all said no for their own reasons. Bakugou and Midoriya had found their own apartment closer to the University, and for much cheaper, Kirishima and Mina were RA’s and could not move in. Kaminari said he liked Sero’s couch too much to leave, and Sero couldn’t live in an apartment without a balcony. Momo said the room was too small, Jirou said she’d rather continue living with Momo, Uraraka said it was a tad bit too much for her to afford (to be fair, you didn’t have to pay because the Todoroki’s were paying for your housing, but you understood), Tsuyu and Hagakure said they were living at home. Iida said he would be too uncomfortable living with a couple.
Everyone you found on the street wouldn’t accept your offer. Hence, Shouto invited the meatball and rosé obsessed Shishikura Seiji to live with the two of you simply because he was Shouto’s lab partner in one of his advanced physics classes. Stupid chemical engineering nerd.
At twenty-one years, you can now say that you’ve entirely adjusted to Shouto’s womanizer ways. Too often do you find yourself sitting at the kitchen counter, a steaming cup of tea in your hand as you drink it in slowly, watching with much amusement as either a no-name girl leaves or a walk of shame Shouto enters. It happens at most five times a week; you were used to it. While the unease had finally left, you had to admit you were impressed your best friend could easily sleep around as he did and maintain his outstanding grades.
However, just because you were finally used to Shouto’s womanizer tendencies didn’t mean the world was. Even in University, your fellow students would ask with wide eyes and behind flat palms if the two of you were dating — specifically if Shouto was cheating on you or if it was an open relationship. You would each and every time, smile cheekily, shake your head and say with a roll of your eyes: “No, we’re not dating. He’s not cheating, and no, this is nothing more than us being best friends. Sho is too much of a jealous person to allow for an open relationship.”
Somehow, the constant begging of approval and the erasure of any romantic connection between you and Shouto from the plethora of female students at Tokyo University wasn’t even the most annoying part of it all. No, not at all.
What really ground your nerves was a pattern you noticed when you were eighteen.
Unlike Shouto, you hadn’t had the chance to lose your virginity until you were eighteen. Most of the boys who liked you always assumed you and Shouto were dating, the ones who gathered the courage to ask you out anyways were boys you were less than impressed with. By some act of some higher god, your crush — the school's third-year baseball team's captain when you were a first-year — reappeared in your life and asked you out. It wasn’t your best decision, you can fully admit it, but he was friendly and sweet as he fucked you in his small bed.
You hadn’t expected sex to be like that, and if you had enjoyed this, you couldn’t help but wonder just how Shouto was in bed to have girls behaving like that.
However, the spell was broken when he helped you change back into your clothes, and he begged you not to tell Shouto he was the person you cheated on him with.
It was on this day that it clicked.
What went for him, unfortunately, went for you too.
Except where girls rose to the challenge to dethrone you from Shouto’s side (a shame because they were vying for a seat that you had no claim over), the boys lowered their head like some damn omega to Shouto’s alpha.
Disgusting.
Even with the plentiful, plethora, consistent denial of your relationship with Shouto, even with the tally of girls, Shouto’s bedded (and more excitedly, deflowered — ugh!) rose consistently, no one ever really believed you weren’t dating him! Too many a time, you had been centimeters from making out with a guy for them to pull away, screeching that they couldn’t allow you to betray Shouto. The men who didn’t care were sleezebags, and thus, with a growl and a snarl, you found that you were only able to fuck men who thought jackhammering their fingers into your labia — yes, your labia — would make you cum.
You didn’t want to say you hated your childhood best friend for such duplicitous, selfish reasons… but you did.
But today was Saturday, a few months into the new second semester of the school year, and with school spirit once again high and workload low. The entire campus was brimming with parties, celebrations, alcohol drinking competition, sleazy dancing, and enough sexual tension to kill all celibate people.
So, we look back to where we started.
Shishikura Seiji running away as you nestled back against Shouto’s chest.
“I didn’t think he was actually going to drink these things,” Shouto sighed, spinning the last few remaining drinks of his rosé in his hand. “It’s been in the fridge for almost five months.”
“He probably made his meatballs again and needed something terrible to blame the flavor on,” you half joke half say in complete seriousness. You were not fond of Shishikura at all, and he was not fond of you either. He had a tendency to mansplain everything, which continuously ground on your nerves, especially when he had no jurisdiction to act so confidently.
He was a physics major, not a goddamn god.
Fuck off.
“I feel sorta bad,” Shouto sighs, his hand low and warm on your waist. “But I will admit, these drinks are practically like carbonated water.”
“2% alcohol,” you stress, your grin widening as you pull away from his chest to stare at him. Your gaze is bright, and his eyes are filled with amusement. “You’re either the world's lightest lightweight or a child with no tolerance to actually expect to get drunk off this shit.”
“I think you’re slurring your words already though, you sure you’re okay, lightweight?” Shouto teases, his soft smirk teasing.
“Who was the one who took three shots and passed out?” you wonder innocently, finger to your chin as if you were trying to remember.
“At least I don’t throw up when I crossfade.”
“IT'S NOT MY FAULT. MY BIOLOGY JUST HAPPENS TO WORKS THAT WAY!”
“Alright, bitch,” Shouto snorts, completely unattractively, “hurry up and get ready, yeah? We have a party we’re already late to, and we have no drinks for an actual pregame.”
You squeal excitedly, having forgotten the massive party that was being held a few blocks away. “I’ll be ready in ten!”
Typically, when you went out partying, you went with the group of eleven people you would have rather replaced Shishikura as a roommate. To get ready for said parties, you would always find yourself at Momo’s place with an outfit change, makeup bag, and hair styling items. You had made it a tradition with the other girls to get ready together. The only exceptions to which this wouldn’t happen was when someone had a work event or some family thing come up.
In your case, you had been stuck at a professor's office, diligently helping to put together their research journal as they were in their final steps of publishing their findings. Due to your friendly relationship with your professor, the time had been lost, and your ten p.m. call time to arrive at Momo’s had been missed with a quick:
↳ held up at work! go on without me, sorry! see you at the party!!!!
When you crashed through the front door of your apartment, you froze, seeing Shouto in the hallway by the mirror. Sometime between getting his haircut to be shorter and from this day, he had begun to style his hair by threading it back by his fingers, and boy, it looked fucking good. He was already dressed up for the party. Black joggers, a white t-shirt that was a bit too small if the tight, seductive way it clung to his muscles spoke of anything, and a hoodie he had no care about in case he lost it after taking it off once getting there. Shouto was practically immune to all weather types, he could be in both snow or fire without a single worry, but he knew that a large sweatshirt that smelled like him was enough to hook and line any truly desperate female.
Shouto had chuckled, taking in your frazzled state with years of practice and nudged toward the fridge, already knowing that you had missed your pregaming with the girls.
“Shishikura has two rosés left. Grab ‘em, and we can pregame together.”
But that was all unimportant and already said.
In the end, it took you thirty minutes to get ready.
You had practically smeared on your makeup, hoping the warm, crazy miscoloring would be hidden within the crazy light show the party would definitely be displaying. Your outfit consisted of a tank top that exposed your cleavage and a skirt that hugged your legs and ass just right.
You came stumbling out of your room, fingers trying to shove on your earrings, the rings on your fingers clicking loudly against each other. You smiled breathily, gratefully accepting Shouto’s sweater as you slipped on your comfortable heels at the doorway before hurrying out.
Shouto kept an arm around your shoulder the entire way out, the immense heat of his body keeping you warm as his sweater rested lazily, awkwardly, around your shoulders and arms. You didn’t want to put it entirely on to save your makeup, and in case anyone had any fucking thing to say about the show you and Shouto were putting on. Eventually, the bright and comical conversation between you and Shouto began to grow louder as the pounding of dance music began to ring in your ears. Soon enough, you passed a few drunk people, more and more, until you reached the house where the party was.
Shoving the sweatshirt into Shouto’s chest, you grinned as the smell of alcohol, weed, over-cologne men and women, the faint smell of puke, and the gross crawl of BO flooded your nose.
Ah yes, nothing like a university party.
Shouto laughs at your evident piqued excitement, and after he pulls on the light blue sweatshirt, he grabs your hand, and into the overcrowded home you go.
The intense heat of overcrowded bodies on a dance floor that also makes up a drinking game floor makes you grateful for your choice of clothes. Everyone around you is already drunk, sloshed, intoxicated off their ass as unknown drinks spill from their red Solo cups, sometimes even raining down on you. You grimace as Shouto continues to pull you through. You can taste the Hennesy on your upper lip and somehow know that whoever was drinking it was a freshman with a vendetta to kill his liver and love for drinking before coming of legal age.
“What do you want to drink?” Shouto yells over the nearly obnoxiously loud music. He has his sight on the drinks counter. “Mixed or the juice?”
“Fuck me up with the jungle juice!” you yell right back, pressing to his side as two dancing (see, vigorously dry-humping) nearly trample on top of you. “Parties are meant to be a non-sober event. I need to be borderline blacked out five hours ago!”
The agreeing chuckle from Shouto isn’t heard by you at all, but you can feel his chest give a familiar vibration as finally, he pulls you from the sea of bodies to where the floor is especially wet and sticky. You’ve reached the bar area.
Grabbing your own red Solo Cup, you watch as Shouto makes his own drink. Heavy on the alcohol, light on the mixer, and a good handful of ice (he’s always liked the cold better). His hand reaches for your cup and you offer your cup up as he opens up an ice chest filled with neon-colored jungle juice.
When the drink is returned to you, the both of you cheers and take a long drink.
“Y/N!”
“Y/N-CHAN!”
“You’re finally here, you fucking slut! Getcha fat ass over here now!”
Your neck is twisted to see the absolutely plastered group of girls you considered to be your closest friends, and you laugh loudly.
“Seems like I’m needed,” you yell at Shouto, trying your best to act nonchalantly as he smiles knowingly at you. “Text me about what you decide to do if we don’t see each other?”
“Of course,” he simply responds before placing the curve of his cup back onto his lip as hands grabbed your arms and whisked you away.
In a matter of sixty minutes, you all had played five drinking games.
The girls felt it was imperative to get you to their level right away, so they started off with a game of King’s Cup. Not only was the deck rigged against you — you pulled all four of the four cards and thus had to chug four times — but you had drawn the last King and drank some weird concoction of jungle juice, a tequila shot, a vodka shot, and whatever the fucking hell Mina was drinking. How you managed to chug that and stay on your feet was beyond you, but it was without saying that you had utterly and inevitably caught up with the girls.
After the King's Cup came the Flip Cup game, your team won thankfully due to Mina’s one flip wonder as Kaminari struggled to down the shot in the cup.
After Flip Cup came Smoke or Fire, a game that had Tsuyu stuck on the bus for a record-breaking one round. No one could believe she did that.
Then came a round of Shot Roulette to end with what you were currently doing now, using a drinking card game Momo had made in her spare time to do embarrassing things at random.
Five games in an hour… you questioned if there was by any chance illegal substances in the jungle juice because it had felt like a whopping two minutes.
“It’s midnight!” Hagakure hollered, stumbling backward as she grinned in drunken, stupid happiness. She giggled before singing, “Midnight… memoriessss~!”
Mina groaned at the reference but completely perked up as the dance music changed suddenly from its slightly mellow, good vibe song to none other than Everytime We Touch by Cascada. By tradition, by applicable law by all and every god, when this one song played, everyone needed to stop what they were doing and immediately head to the dance floor.
With your hand slightly sticky with alcohol, and your mind absolutely clouded with alcohol, you whooped loudly as Mina dragged you to the dancefloor. 
You, seven girls, formed a closed circle, your Solo cups sloshing over with alcohol, and your faces scrunched tight as you danced and sang as loudly as you could. Each pounding beat of music vibrated in your chest, each offkey note sung by the party-goers making you feel light, happy, dizzy, and oh so perfectly drunk. For just a split moment, you lock eyes with Shouto, who’s across the dance floor, his arms wrapped around some girl you don’t recognize, eyes drinking you in. You smile for a bit before turning back around, arms rocketing up to the air with your excitement.
Although the song ended, the DJ continued to play bangers, and you never once stopped in your mirthful dancing and grinding against your friends as the night continued to carry on. But when you spun out from Mina, your entire world spinning with it, a pair of warm, heavy, large hands rested on your waist, and you laughed.
“Who is this?” you ask, head slamming backward to try and look at the person who had caught you yet hadn’t tried grinding against you. “Oh, Inasa? Hi!”
Yoarashi Inasa was one of your University's well-known jocks. He was a skilled runner, one of the best Japan has ever seen despite his body type telling you he was a bodybuilder. Immediately your smile of idiotic stupor became intentful, seductive, still bordering extreme intoxication. Was Inasa your type? No, not really, but you could reasonably and accurately say that he was a handsome man, with a fantastic body, not to mention a pleasant personality.
You also itched to know what his dick looked like.
This was definitely someone you could see yourself fucking tonight.
“Hi, y/l/n,” Inasa said, his naturally loud voice easily picked up on despite the music being blasted in your ear. “How’s your night going?”
You lick your dry lips, eyes blinking a few times before you turn in his arms, your arms stretching so that you could wrap them around his neck. “Better now that you’re here,” you smile shyly. “How’s yours.”
“Ahem,” Inasa blushes, his eyes staring straight at your cleavage before looking back up at you. “H-Hoping to get better from here! Well, I’m sure it will be.”
“Oh?” you ask, your confidence building faster and faster as you press further against him. “Anything you have in mind?” —you press your thigh suggestively against the semi-hard spot against his jeans. — “Anyway... I can... help?”
Inasa groans deep in his chest, his head knocking backward at your implications, the pleasant vibrations passing on to you. You grin, fingers scraping against the bottom of his buzzcut and bringing him closer, praying for a kiss. But as he returns his head back down, his gaze leaves yours for a split second, and you watch in horror as a sobering look washes over him.
“Actually… you’re here with some random dude, right? I don’t want to step on his toes. I thought I saw you come in with some guy; sorry y/l/n, I can’t do this.”
And just as quickly as he was against you, he was gone.
It took everything in you not to screech bloody murder over the fact that you were once again left horny with no man to take responsibility for it.
Calculated Rate of Not Getting Dicked Down When I Want to Get Dicked Down When Coming to a Party With Shouto: 78% Calculated Rate of Not Getting Dicked Down When I Want to Get Dicked Down When Coming to a Party Without Shouto: 22%
Walking home alone, cold, and with extreme bitterness towards Yoarashi Inasa was a sadly sobering experience. By the time you collapsed onto your bed, you were only slightly buzzed, boarding sobriety while not being sober exactly.
Fuck men.
Fuck their cowardness over a nonexistent romantic/sexual relationship between you and Shouto.
But also… you really wanted to fuck men right now.
The slicked horniness of the potential thought of bedding Inasa had made its unignorable appearance via your soaked panties. You hated yourself, hated your biological needs and lusts.
“I’ll wring Shouto’s neck in front of all of them next time,” you grumble to yourself. “Stage a fake breakup for an imaginary thing…”
Nestling further into your pillows, your eyes closed, body relaxing against the bed when a peculiar sound seemed to echo in your ear.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
Your eyes slammed open, your jaw-dropping at the very obvious, entirely embarrassing sound of Shouto having sex on his desk sounded in your room! Of course it sounded in your room. His desk was pressed to your wall because that would mean whenever he was his icky womanizer self, you wouldn’t have to hear anything! Your rooms were soundproof but apparently not movement proof.
The thwack of the wood desk slammed against the wall, and with your ear so close to the wall, you began to hear the shaky, intense breathing of Shouto. The whines, keens, and screams of the girl he was fucking as she begged for more. Sobbing that his cock was too much for her.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Your panties soaked even more, and with a brain that somehow retracted back into its state of stupor, your fingers brushed against your swollen, ready clit.
This was wrong, so very, very wrong, you thought, the sounds of pitched whining against the stupidly impressive, steady, consistent fucking.
Your mind was a drunken fever. 
Your eyes closed not all the way, yet blind to the wall before you as your finger danced and teased against your demanding clit.
You whined softly, matching the groaning of Shouto, who banged something other than the desk into the wall.
For a moment, just this once, you wanted to be the one desperately clinging to Shouto’s back, hips snapping and circling in tandem to his, allowing him to drill his cock deep within you. Your back arched, heat reaching your toes, buzzing filling your lips.
“Yes, fuck, right there, Todoroki!” the girl screamed, begged, and prayed. “Oh my god, yes, yes yes, right there, right the— mmph!”
You find your teeth sinking into your fist, trying to keep your pounding, horny induced brain from crying out. You wanted to know what he was doing to her, if he had kissed her silent, shoved his fingers in her mouth. Maybe he had fucked her so good she couldn’t possibly say more.
There is nothing from Shouto you can hear, no noises of praise, nothing except the occasional ragged breath that seems to permeate through the walls and whisper sweetly, teasingly, like a succumbs in your ear.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
It increases, in noise, the wall separating your room from his beginning to rattle, shake in his conquest.
Your fingers are wet, entirely slippery with your conquest, your hips thrashing against your touch, clinging to a phantom memory of the last male you had managed to fuck. Then, as your stomach trembles with the orgasm that's mere seconds from blessing you with a release, you hear him—Shouto.
“Fuck.”
It’s not much. If anything, this girl should be so embarrassed she hasn’t been able to elicit a loud response from Shouto, but it’s a verbal gift from heaven above for you. His voice, tight, husky, drenched with a driving lust, whispers to you and only you, wrapping you in this blanket of solitude and need. 
With your back arching from the mattress, your hips leaving the soft surface, and your jaw growing slack, your moan is silent, unheard by no one but the heavens as you cum. Heat floods throughout your entire body, tickling and twirling in you until you can’t do anything but shudder, shaking as you fall back down on your bed, dizzy and completely satisfied. 
You don’t think about it.
Don’t try to unpack just what happened right now because the reality that you had just masturbated to the sound of your childhood best friend fucking some random girl is a bit too much. Even for you.
So you don’t think about it, and soon the thudding of the desk on the wall is nothing but a drumming lullaby, and sleep consumes you.
When you wake up, you don’t remember what you did.
You get up and trudge to the bathroom, your party clothes abandoned completely so that you’re wearing nothing but a large shirt you had stolen from Shouto years ago. You scratch your belly as you walk into the bathroom, eyes caked with your sleep still as you begin brushing your teeth.
As you brush your teeth, you begin to take off last night's makeup — well, whatever remained of it.
Spitting out the last foamy remains of the paste from your mouth, you rinsed your mouth before washing your skin. You looked much more awake now. Slapping your cheeks in an encouraging, ‘im a functional human adult taking part in some random face wash commercial,’ you exited the bathroom and went to the kitchen. 
Shishikura was already in the kitchen, his face expressionless, entirely dead to the world as he scooped some rice into a bowl and topped it off with some eggs.
“Morning,” you yawn, arms stretching over your head as you near closer to your unwanted roommate.
Shishikura sneers at you, but even he was more polite in the morning, sometimes.
“I heard the both of you get back last night,” Shishikura mocked, slamming the lid to his rice cooker with an unimpressed scowl. “You were thirty minutes apart. You know, if you two still want to be partying like a bunch of eighteen-year-olds, do it respectfully.”
Your smile back at him is as fake as he is, and you refuse to move out of the way as he tries to walk back to his room. He growls — gross? — and sidesteps you, grumbling the entire way back to his room as you roll your eyes at his retreating form.
What a child.
You entered the kitchen, fixing up your own things for breakfast.
Kettle brewing hot water for tea, rice cooker on for your own rice (you make enough for Shouto too), and you begin cooking some ham and eggs, readying yourself for a Sunday for going to the library and studying. You hummed to yourself, your phone plugged into the speaker as your music filled the quiet morning air.
You bobbed your head in rhythm with the music, your eyes concentrating on slowly cooking eggs as you poured the hot water from your kettle into the teacup. As you placed your teabag in, you looked up to the sound of a creaking door and grinned wickedly as a girl with light blue hair walked out of the hall you and Shouto’s room were in.
Her dress was rumbled, a few blooming red and purple marks sitting prettily on her collarbone, and her face flushed red as she began to scurry out.
“Bye!” you call out, laughing at the scared eep from the girl and the disgruntled groan from Shouto’s room.
You set down your tea, flipping the eggs in the pan as you heard more shuffling before finally, Shouto made his appearance. He was in nothing but grey sweatpants that sat so low on his waist you could not only see the band of his boxer-briefs, but you were entirely aware of the v-lines, the abs, the pecs, and the small happy trail from his belly button down. You also noted that there was not a single mark on his body, and you wondered if he had ever taken a single mark from a one-night fuck before.
God really cursed you with an objectively attractive best friend, huh.
“Morning, slut,” you sing, noticing with happiness that your rice cooker sang a merry tune, indicating that the rice was done. “Breakfast?”
“Mm,” Shouto grumbled, his hands rubbing his face as he trudged closer to the kitchen, taking a spot on one of the stools. “Depends. Did you make it?”
“...I always make it.”
“I think I like Shishikura’s breakfast better.”
Silence.
You glare at Shouto, and in turn, his lips press to a comfortable, teasing smile.
“Fend for your damn self then.”
Shouto laughed loudly as you began to stubbornly fix yourself a bowl of both your servings. You ate far less than he did, but still enough to fill you until after three pm, so the size of your bowl was hysterical. 
“You’re such a horrible wife-roommate,” Shouto accuses, standing up from the stool and entering the kitchen to try and persuade you otherwise to give him his own food. “And here I thought that you liked cooking for me.”
“Go tell your stupid wife-roommate Shishikura instead,” you cry loudly, the faux sniffles from you stupidly fake as you begin to shovel a mouthful of rice and eggs into your mouth. “I’m shwure you’chll beh happ t’gther!”
“That’s absolutely disgusting, y/l/n,” Shouto accuses, his nose scrunching as he traps you in his arms, mouth trying to intercept the food moving from your bowl and into your mouth. 
With another desire to prove how unsatisfied in your roommate-marriage you were, you opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue full of uneaten, partially chewed rice.
“Ea’ eh!” you mocked, your grin growing as Shouto’s initial instinct was to whip his head away from you.
But as always, because Shouto enjoyed being incredibly annoying, he went after your tongue, readying to eat the chewed-up food off your very tongue. 
Eventually, you gave Shouto back his part of the breakfast, laughing as the both of you chatted about who was going to repay Shishikura for the used rosés. Neither one of you could decide, and so it was something to be solved later. Noon, however, came and with a nod, you accepted Shouto’s hug goodbye, to which you twisted his nose triumphantly as you waddled out of the front door, clothed in your winter gear, textbooks, and laptop,
It was time to brave the world and get this paper done.
“Mina, I mean… absolutely no offense when I say this, but it still shocks me every time you say you’re a chemistry major. You just seem so…”
“Dumb?”
“Yeah.”
“You gotta be some kind of stupid to willingly take inorganic chem,” Mina laughed, balancing her textbooks on her head as the both of you climbed the stairwell to the library’s study rooms. “That's why I have the dance minor! Best of both worlds!”
“Could never forget about that,” you laughed as the both of you neared the top of the stairwell.
You didn’t mean to notice him. As a matter of fact, most of your failed conquests at parties never amounted to much anger from you, but seeing Inasa from across the way, his face buried in some aerodynamics textbook, anger boiled in you. On the way to meeting with Mina, you had realized your mistake last night and how you wouldn’t have made said mistake if it hadn’t been for Inasa! You could’ve been dicked down, slammed against your bed and wall as the giant of a man fucked you!
“I’ll be right back,” you sneered, eyes narrowing as you passed your textbook to Mina.
With fire following in ever long, powerful stride, you blinked and immediately found yourself before Inasa.
“Hi. Wanna explain what happened last night?”
Inasa reacted as if you had shot him, his knees coming up to hit the table, his body knocking backward, and he tumbled, crashing to the floor as you watched with a gaping mouth.
“Y-Y/L/N!” Inasa shouted, his face going through half a billion emotions before settling in anxiety-filled fear. You watched, horrified yourself, as he swung to his knees, his head crashing to the floor as he began apologizing to you. “GOODMORNING, HOW ARE YOU TODAY?!”
“Pipe it down, Inasa!” you hiss, your cheeks flooding with embarrassed heat as you garnered the attention of everyone on the floor. “I’m not going to hurt you! I just wanted to talk!”
“Aha, yes, of course!” Inasa laughs, a full belly laugh. He sits up and you freeze seeing the bloodied cut on his forehead. He stands up, completely unaffected by the gash on his forehead, and uprights his chair before sitting comfortably. “How can I help you?”
“What happened to you last night?” you try again, eyebrow raised, arms crossed definitely and awkwardly because yeah… you were confronting a guy who didn't want to sleep with you. “You were into me and then suddenly wasn’t.”
Inasa laughs more, although nothing you said, implied, or did was even remotely funny.
Irritation runs through your veins.
“Inasa, please,” you sigh in helplessness, your eyes annoyed, pleading, and hopeful that he would be the one to finally give you an actual reason.
“It’s… it’s not you. If that’s what you’re wondering,” Inasa finally sighs. His face turns uncharacteristically solemn as his tongue passes through his lips, his shoulders raising to a shrug. “Typically speaking, you are exactly who and what I want when I endeavor in less than chivalrous but still passionate activities. I wanted you last night, and I will not lie that even as I left, I regretted behaving as I did.”
“Well, you did it, and it sorta really sucked,” you laugh, your mouth taut in a frown as your feelings are genuinely hurt.
You keep being put down, and there’s no reason for it.
Why couldn’t you be as sexually active as you wish you could be?
“...Todoroki has a claim on you,” Inasa spoke slowly, his mouth dipping from a usual smile to a frown. “I know you guys aren’t together, but in a way, you two are.”
“No,” you say with complete certainty, anger burning in your chest, “we’re not.”
“Try telling Todoroki that,” Inasa shrugs, his fingers scratching through his buzz cut. “Listen, I wanted to have intercourse with you last night; I did. I also am aware that Todoroki is a womanizer, but he said you were off-limits for all of us.”
“He said that?” your voice is perfectly calm, not showing the raging fire in you.
“Well, no, he definitely did not,” Inasa sighs, the palm of his hands pressing tightly against his eyes. “He has never said it… but it’s the way he talks about you, how he looks at you. It’s a claim on you, even if it’s not a verbal one, and well, no one wants to defy him.”
Your nostrils flare in your irritation, and you find that you’re stepping into Inasa’s personal space, his eyes going wide as you step between his legs and press your hands on his chest.
“I’ll be going home in about five hours. If you still want to fuck me, wait for me,” you say slowly, trying to make sure he understands. “I don’t care if Sho looks at me the way he does; he is not my boyfriend.”
Inasa gulps, his tan skin sporting a healthy pink flush, “Yes, ma’am.”
Five hours later, you’re walking into your apartment with Inasa behind you, his warm, slightly sweaty hand clasped in yours. You make eye contact with both your roommates, Shishikura, whose eyes are rolling to the depths of his skull, and Shouto, who looks like a wall. You, despite the anger you’re feeling for Shouto, smile prettily, then grin wolfishly as you corral Inasa towards your room. You send your roommates a wink before closing the door with a decisive click.
Much like you assumed the night prior, your drunken hazed, lust-driven, anger-flared thoughts proved to be right. Inasa fucked you against the wall, deep into the mattress, he drilled and fucked you until his dick was wet with your slick, and his leg was trembling with his plentiful unleashed loads. But you weren’t done yet, too many times have you been denied, and even though Inasa was trembling, his voice shaking with desperate pleas to slow down or he would cum too fast, you rode him with powerful, swiveling hips.
Once he left, you felt light again.
Your head light, body glowing as you dressed your bruised, cum slick body in a robe as you trudged to the bathroom. You showered, letting the warm water and sweet-smelling oils drench your body before you eventually exited, your hair in a towel, Shouto’s shirt on your person again.
Waltzing to the living room, you grinned as you collapsed on the couch, every grievance you held when you walked in forgotten at the moment.
“Hello,” you smile, your head falling onto Shouto’s lap who was, at the moment, very interested in his phone. Shishikura was gone, undoubtedly leaving in case he heard something he didn’t want to hear during your little four-hour sexscapade. “I am a leaf flowing through the river right now, if you’re wondering.”
“Don’t need to wonder. You were perfectly loud enough,” Shouto grumbled, his eyes rolling. “Says something that I could, considering the rooms are soundproof.”
“I should hope so! After you, the girls rave that Inasa is the best fuck on campus,” you hum, still on a delirious high as you attempt to reach for your best friend's hand to grasp. But to your shock, Shouto jerks away from your touch, and he stands, letting your head fall roughly on the couch. And just like that, your anger is back. The emotion Inasa had managed to fuck out of you for a bit returned at full force. “Shouto?!”
“What?” he snaps.
“What the fuck is your problem?!”
“My problem is that you brought someone to fuck at fucking five p.m.,” Shouto explains, his expression like the void, empty, dark, menacing. “We agreed to keep it until past ten.”
Your face screws up as you push up off the couch, “Are you kidding me?! I’ve seen you constantly bring girls to fuck at any and all times of the day! Don’t suddenly bring that shit in when it clearly isn’t an actual rule in this apartment!”
“You were also being obnoxiously loud,” Shouto narrows his eyes at you.
“You are too!”
“When am I ever?”
“I literally listened to you fuck that girl last night against our shared wall!”
“You moved your bed to our shared wall?! When?!”
“Doesn’t matter! I would’ve heard it just fine on the other side!”
“The girl wasn’t even that fucking loud!” 
“You can’t ever remember the names of the girls you fuck! Do you know anything about them ever? Are you even using condoms?!”
“You only ever fuck men with questionable personalities.”
“Gee, I wonder fucking why!”
The two of you were nose to nose, anger flaring and near tangible between the two of you.
“What do you mean?” he grits slowly.
“I’m talking about you mad dogging any male human who so much as looks or thinks of me!” you snap, finger shoving between his pecs. “No one touches me because somehow they respect the way a womanizer looks at me.”
“I’m not looking at you in any special way,” Shouto squints his eyes, completely not having your accusations.
“Even if you don’t, this fucking behavior is pathetic of you!” you say, hands motioning between you two and the room. “I had sex, and you’re acting like some pathetic child! I have been putting up with your sex-craze tendencies since we were sixteen, asshole! Sixteen! If I want to gloat and float about having sex, then I fucking deserve to.”
His nostrils flare, his upper lip curling in a small twitch before he rolls his eyes and walks away.
“That’s right, Todoroki,” you laugh bitterly at his retreating form. “Walk away from a fight because you can never win them.”
It took a bit for the dust to settle, but as soon as it did, you realized in horror that you and Shouto had, for the first time ever, fought.
Being roommates with Shouto was always a fun thing. Having your childhood best friend right at your disposal meant that you could have dinner nights, movie nights, game nights, morning waffles, hikes, and literally anything whenever and wherever you wanted. He was a person to talk to when the days were long, and there was no one else in the world, the person who was there for you through thick and thin. But for two days, he had been locked away in his room, unwilling to look at you, refusing to be anywhere near you.
Your friends had noticed immediately.
The way the both of you hadn’t shown up together, the way you sat at opposite ends of the table, refusing to be trapped in a conversation together. Separate the two of you were, and the world acted as if Earth had dropped out of gravity.
You could care less right now.
You were rightfully mad at him! How dare he act so pettily over you having a sex life when you were expected to blink, turn the other way, and laugh when he would shower after a girl would leave before joining you on the couch to watch a movie. He was in the wrong, not you!
But even if you were unwilling to budge and he was refusing to see things the way they should be, you were now incredibly lonesome. So as you sat with your back on the mattress. Your butt to the wall, and your legs kicking against the wall, you thought of what you could do. With a bitter sigh, you rolled off your bed and scurried out of the apartment. Nothing but your wallet and ID on you so that you could get to the store on the first floor of the complex.
Holding the item in hand, you knocked on a door, your gaze already on the floor, embarrassed that you were going to do what you had to do.
“What?” came the annoyed voice of Shishikura, the door to his room opening as he looked at you unimpressed and very obviously unwelcomed.
“Truce?” you asked, raising the six-pack of Angry Orchard Rosé Cider. 
Shishikura looks at you, at the ciders, then back at you.
“Fine.”
How in the world you’re drunk off of four rosé ciders is beyond you, but you are. You’re in the living room, laughing so hard that your stomach hurts as you’re trying not to snort the liquid from your mouth and out your nose. Shishikura is equally plastered off of one drink, his red a ruby red against his purple hair. He’s leaning against you, his breathing ragged, near asthmatic as he tries to once explain just how Shouto looked like when some girl slapped him across the face yesterday for ghosting her after sex.
“He was so shocked!” Shishikura squeaked out, his voice pitchy and incredibly high as he laughed more and more. “You should have seen it!”
Your feet kicked at the air, your face and lungs burning with a fire you hadn’t felt in so long as your laughter turned silent. You gasped for air, trying to contain yourself but failing hysterically.
“Do you wa’ another meatballsh?” Shishikura suddenly asked, his hands flailing to grab his plate of meat. “I think you want another o’.”
“I wan’ ‘ne!” you cried with a slight slur, tears of joy slipping past your eyes to which you haphazardly scrubbed them off your face. “They’re soooo good! I didn’t think they could be so… be so good!”
You find yourself eating another meatball, drinking it down with the cider and feeling happy again. Shishikura goes still by your side, and you hum in wonder, unfocused eyes trying to find what had caught his attention and falling onto the one man you were mad at currently.
Shouto was standing at the apartment entrance, dressed in ripped black jeans, a tight grey turtleneck sweater, and his backpack slung on his shoulder. It was, without a doubt, a studying-only outfit. You knew and have discussed too many times with Shouto about how he never trusted women to take his turtlenecks off without potentially ruining the fabric.
“Well, someone’s finally home... from a night of beddin mo’ women, huh?” a voice spoke, but you were completely unsure if it was you or Shishikura who said it.
Judging by the way Shouto’s eyes locked on Shishikura and not yours, it seemed it was him who said it.
“No, I was doing something,” Shouto retorted, his hand gripping the strap of his backpack, his eyes shifting between you and Shishikura. “A paper for class.”
“Sure,” you end up speaking up, your voice sounding completely sober. You sit up so that your elbow is resting on Shishikura’s nearest shoulder. You raise the glass bottle to your lips, drinking its content without care, never once breaking eye contact. “What was the paper's name? You going after your TA? Or was it a professor by chance?”
Shouto’s eyebrows furrow, his face completely unimpressed by your comeback, but he remains silent.
“He looks like he’s trying to cosplay that one Young The Rock picture, no way would a dignified professor or TA fuck him!” Shishikura laughed with a loud bark, and all of a sudden, that was all you could see too.
The both of you howled with laughter, laughing and slapping each other as you attempted to drink the last bits of the rosés as Shouto rolled his eyes and walked away.
“This is fun. No wonder why you guys do it to me so often.”
-
As time does, it moves forward.
It seemed as if the entire campus had tuned in to what had transpired between you and Shouto. No one the slightest bit sure as to what happened, but everyone knew something big had happened. There was no more walking together before classes or after classes, no weird Instagram or Snapchat stories of the other, both of you never having to excuse yourself because you had plans with the other. Even though they claimed to not care about other people’s business, the school was suddenly invested in the single speculation that Todoroki Shouto’s and Y/l/n Y/n’s relationship was over.
“Breaking News, it was never a real relationship!” you would scream the first few times you heard it, which only worked to make them whisper louder that you were in further denial.
For the last seventeen years of your life, you had never gone more than two days without talking or seeing your childhood best friend. Those two days happened when Rei had experienced a staggering, hospital-inducing breakdown from stress and had subsequently burned Shouto when you were five years old. The two days were because he spent four days in the hospital. The first two days, he was not allowed visitors as the hospital staff put him under a coma to help his body from entering shock and heal. Of course, the moment he was awakened, you were dragging your mother to his bedside.
That was the only time you hadn’t seen or spoken to Shouto consistently.
But since Sunday evening, you had only seen Shouto once when you were drunk with Shishikura. You had only spoken to him then too.
For the first time in seventeen years, you broke your record of not talking or seeing Shouto.
From two days to five.
It was weird.
You felt almost empty.
So when Mina and Uraraka placed their arms around your shoulders, their eyes dead serious, you knew that they had a distraction for you.
“The deltas are throwing a party,” Uraraka spoke with mystery. “It is on Saturday.”
“It is only right that we go, get our asses so drunk our blood is practically a distillery, and fuck anyone who looks at us a second longer than anyone else,” Mina agrees, her tone wise and knowing as she nods her head.
“Our question to you is:” they spoke together, their voices weirdly, obviously practiced, in synch. “Are you in?”
Your tongue is pressed between your lips, your fingers pressing against the textbook you were using to help support your essay’s thesis, and you roll your eyes.
You grin.
“Obviously.”
And as time promises each and every time, Saturday finally came.
“What is our objective tonight?!” Mina screams over the background music that Jirou is blasting in Momo’s larger-than-life bathroom.
“To fuck bitches and get money!” Hagakure, the only one currently not downing a drink, screams back.
“NO, WRONG!” Mina shakes her head, climbing onto the white marble countertops and pointing at Jirou. “Kyo! Your turn!”
“To beat that prick in the sound booth and prove that I’m—”
“NO! Wrong again! Yaomomo!”
“Um, to make everlasting mem—”
“INCORRECT, YOU GORGEOUS PRINCESS! Tsuyu, don’t fail me, babe!”
“Well, it’s to prove to Todoroki that y/n-chan should be able to fuck any person she wants.”
“A bit lengthy, a bit focused on the wrong parts of it, but YES! Tonight’s operation: get y/n a man — preferably Inasa — who fucks the negativity out of her!”
You laugh loudly, rolling your eyes as you lean in closer to the mirror. You hold a Mike’s Hard in one hand, and in the other is your eyeliner as you paint on your makeup. You’re not really hearing the conversations that the girls are having, your own mind too lost in the music, and the swaying you’ve picked up as the three bottles of Mike’s you’ve had in the past thirty minutes are calming down your still frazzled nerves.
You don’t pull away from your reflection until after you’re done smoothing over your favorite lipstick on your pouty lips. You look over at your reflection and see Mina dancing with an awkwardly stiff Jirou and a delightfully giggling Momo on the bathroom countertops. A smile forms on your face, happiness radiating in your chest, and you grin looking at your friends.
But Shouto still sat in your mind, and you couldn’t help but wonder why.
Why did it hurt knowing that he was avoiding you as much as you were him?
Why didn’t he just try to corner you?
Why did you care that he didn’t?
He was your best friend in the entire world, since your earliest memories, he’s been there, you reason, your whooping not quite as loud as you watch Jirou awkwardly be sandwich between a grinding Mina and a complacent Momo.
It was his fault you, you further reasoned, smiling widely at Hagakure, who was twirling around you, applying her lipstick as a super crazy never before seen talent of hers. He was the one acting like an idiot over the people you slept with even though you let all the people he slept with slide!
But why did you?
Your brows furrowed slightly, unfurrowing just as quickly as Mina pulled you and Uraraka up onto the countertop with her as Jirou and Momo dropped to the floor.
You fucking were in love with Shouto, damnit! Of course you let the stupid personal things go just to appease him! Your back straightened, your eyes rolling as you began to dance with the Kehlani music thumping in the background, but then you freeze.
You were in love with him.
You loved Shouto.
Not in a friendly, platonic, family way.
In an ‘I would date you if I could and marry you on the prettiest beach in front of the most beautiful sunset’ way.
You found that your body was dancing on autopilot as you began to reassess your thoughts, your actions, your wants with Shouto, desperately trying to disprove this love for him. But no matter what you did, you found that it was true no matter what angle you looked at it.
The bass dropped, and you went stiff, your body standing straight and tall although you felt incredibly, terribly small.
“I love him,” you spoke, although you’re not sure who to. Maybe it was to the laughing gods above you or the crying spirits around you. But the girls heard it for some reason, and they, as they were patiently waiting for these past six, nearly seven days, caught you as you went weak.
Finally, realizing that you were in love with your childhood best friend was not the conclusion you expected from a week's silence from Shouto and you. But as you were currently in a crop top with a mesh shirt underneath and the most ripped jeans you owned, chugging down a neon green and blue nearly toxic alcoholic drink, you realized that being at this party was the right way to conclude this circus of a week.
The rush of the liquid dropping down the beer bong was something you found yourself struggling to keep up with, and you felt some of the liquid pour out of your mouth as you grunt, trailing down your heaving chest, creating an image in your onlookers as you refused to choke or pull away. Swallowing the last bit of the drink, ripping the plastic tube out of your mouth, you threw your hands in the air, Tsuyu, who had held and poured the contents for you, screaming too as she lifted your arm in victory.
You couldn’t really hear the music anymore, much more entranced with the music you were singing on your own, and you were currently holding Mina’s face, touching foreheads with her as you spoke a mantra of your love for her.
“Ashido Mina, you are the baddest bitch in the whole wide world. I love your pink hair and your fat ass, and I would die for you. I love you… so fucking much,” is what you said. How it was actually said and how it was perceived is a whole other story because Mina laughed loudly and allowed you to hug her despite your sticky alcohol body.
Your twenties were the new two’s, it seemed.
“Yo, y/l/n!” a voice yelled, and although you let go of Mina’s face, your arms found a new home around her neck as you turned around.
“Hm?”
Your terrible drunk eyes looked all over before falling on a man wearing a basketball jersey and joggers.
Shindou Yo, one of campus’ manwhores. He had a reputation similar to Shouto, you knew that very well, but you were aware that he was disturbingly creepy. According to many vital witnesses, the man slept with just about anyone willing regardless of gender, so not only did you know what the girls thought of him, experienced with him, there was a wider demographic not even Shouto had entered. Number one thing to be told was the fact that Shindou was into some heavy, dark shit to an extreme, his room reeked of sex, and he himself smelled like booze, weed, and BO. But a strong dick was a strong dick at the end of the day.
“Come play beer pong with me?” he asked, his hands shoved into his pockets as he smiled innocently. “I’ve heard some pretty solid shit about your skills, and I want to see how I add up.”
“I’ll play!” you agree immediately, jumping at the thought of drinking more. “Bu I don’t wa’ beer… ish nashty.”
“Anything for you, darling.”
With your arm still holding onto Mina, you accepted Shindou’s hand and allowed him to drag you off to where he wanted to play the game of beer pong.
The game of beer pong went without a single thing going wrong. You were paired up with Shindou, and Mina had managed to find Kirishima in the crowd before you got to your destination and demanded she have him as a partner and not Monoma.
It was safe to say that you were drunk, disgustingly out of your mind. It was an intense game of Cup Pong, the two different teams equally as bad in the drunken stupor, but finally, the two teams were down to a single cup and Kirishima — who was the only reason why they were winning!!!! — had the last ball. You watched in terrible apprehension, fingers digging into Shinsou’s biceps as Kirishima rose the wet ping pong ball to Mina’s lips and let her blow on it for good luck before bringing it back in and began a few steadying practice throws.
“You know, I’m glad I saw you at this party,” Shindou whispers to you, his head ducking down so that you and only you could hear that.
“Why?” you say a lot louder than you wanted, your heart hammering in fear that you would lose this game.
“Because you’re sexy as fuck,” Shindou spoke, his voice turning deeper, huskier, “and now you’re single.”
You blink, attention stolen from the game as you forgot about the final cup and looked at Shindou with a blank stare and an open mouth.
“What?”
“Cuz you and Todoroki are over,” Shindou explains to you as if you’re a child. “You guys are over, right? That’s all everyone’s talking about, and all us guys are ready to fuck you whenever you’re ready.”
His smirk irritates you, the lust in his eyes angering you as you drop your hold on his arm.
“We weren’t together, and you knew that,” you say, eyes narrowing as the crowd watching the game explodes in raging cheers as Kirishima sinks the ball into the cup. “Why the fuck would Shouto be fucking every girl that walks if we were together? What makes you think I’d be okay with it?”
“You’re a cuck,” Shindou continues on, confidence unaffected. “Oh, are the two of you maybe changing roles now? Does the big guy want me to fuck you in front of him?”
Your fist makes contact with his throat before you can even stop yourself and the cheers quickly turn into gasps.
After apologizing profusely to the party holders, they decided that you could, in fact, stay at the party. Your knuckles throbbed in pain, the alcohol in your system buzzing in you in a way that wasn’t fun or relaxing as you made a simple side-step dance move in the middle of the dance floor. The girls, who had at the beginning of the party, drifted ways, had once more glued themselves at your side on the floor. You weren’t in a dancing mood as you took a drink of what you assumed to be a Moscow mule made by Mina for you to keep you at a high for the rest of the party.
Like hell you would ever let Shouto cuck you!
Let him fuck another woman in front of you?
You would go insane if he ever thought that would be acceptable.
“Down girl, relax!” Mina yelled by your ear. “I thought I was babysitting y/n, not Bakugou Katsuki!”
You startled, realizing that your frown had become a fierce snarl as you danced on the floor.
“Come on, babe, let’s get you feeling good again; let’s enjoy this night!” Mina exclaimed, her hands pushing your drink to your mouth and forcing you to chug the contents of the drink. The red Solo Cup is dropped to the floor as soon as you finish. She grabbed your wrists and began to fluidly move your arms — or as well as she could manage herself because she, too, was drunk.
But with Mina winking and smiling at you, the rest of the girls eventually throw themselves into your linked dance circle, your own negative emotions left and in came joy.
It took about another round of ten songs for the dance circle to be destroyed and to have all of you resuming a rave-like jumping and scream-singing as Jirou finally snuck her way into the DJ booth and succeeded to take over. You spun around at the end of one song, laughing completely out of breath as you clapped your hands together. You often forget that while Jirou only listened to a very specific genre, she was a musical genius who had banger playlists for every occasion.
It seemed frat parties were one of them.
However, the next song had your head tilting backward, your grin spreading even wider as you began to move your hips in slow, distinct movements. Dancing with your hips was something you had learned, something you instilled into your dancing category for as long as you could remember.
The beats were loud, deep, thumping deep in the ground and vibrating with great strength in your chest as you pointed a finger at Mina, who was also dancing similarly to you. Your lips moved as you sang the song quietly, the heat and humidity of the room suddenly pressing onto you like another person. You hummed, flicking the parts of your hair sticking to the nape of your neck off, grateful for the slightly cooler air hitting your sweaty skin.
As you rolled your hips down, your hands fanning yourself, trying to cool down your deliriously warm, alcohol-heated body, you froze for just a bit. A person pressed to your back, your ass pressing against a hot thigh, and a hand resting upon the curve of your thigh, keeping you in place. You might have cared, but the body against yours was a welcomed one. Your hips and ass continuing to move in tandem with the music, deliberate highs and lows, and you worked your way up and down the man's body who met yours with spinning accuracy that made you began to pant, your heart racing because this was hot to you. You raised your arms behind you, clasping onto his neck, keeping him on you.
His hair was soft under your touch, slightly sweaty but threaded and parted between your fingers just too easily. His left hand, which had found a spot on your stomach, was radiating heat, something easily felt due to you only having mesh cloth there.
It was slow.
Sensual.
Somehow familiar.
Absolutely mind-numbing.
His chest broad against your back, muscles strong and tight against you.
He was skilled, practiced. Someone you knew was not going to disappoint you, and as your lust-glazed eyes took in the entirely shocked looks of your friends, you finally turned to look.
Somehow, someway, you weren’t shocked at all to see Shouto’s clouded, dark eyes locking on yours. Your world seems to freeze as something between you and Shouto is so obviously broken between you, forever changing, no longer able to go back. It didn’t matter that this was the first time in almost a week you had seen him, had talked to him, he was there, and you wanted to feel his skin scorching against yours. His touch screamed of his want for you, your recognition of your love for him, and your current lust for him. You were angry, hurt, confused, but you were too drunk to care, too intoxicated on the spell the two of you created on this dance floor.
But even as your world froze, the music continued on.
Grabbing Shouto’s hand, you spun around so that his chest was now pressed against yours, your legs between his. You continued dancing, continued to roll your hips down as you sunk down to the ground as Shouto remained standing, his hand supporting and balancing you as you went down and up. He began to dance with you again, the world seemingly disappearing as the two of you ground and panted heavily in each other's ears.
He pushed forward, and you whined, feeling the blazing swollen heat of his semi-hard cock against your stomach, but you met him there.
Your fingers fisting in his hair as his hands found their way into your back pockets, gripping your ass, and your eyes fluttered shut as his mouth, blazing, intense, and intentful, mashed against yours. You kissed him back immediately, all defenses abandoned to that of your lust, wants, and needs. His mouth was a fire, his kiss a blaze that consumed you, drowned you, made you push for more.
It was a kiss that lasted who knows how long, but by the time you had separated, you could feel the familiar sting to your slowly swelling lips and the song that had ended.
His eyes were a near black, his cheeks flushed, and his arms kept you so close you had to think if you were in the privacy of your home or in public.
“I want you,” you whispered, your voice begging, pleading for him.
“I need you,” he responded, his voice equally wishing.
“Take me home,” you speak, lips pressing sloppy, desperate hot kisses to his neck. “Take me home and fuck me.”
“Fuck, yes, okay. Let’s go,” Shouto pants, his hands leaving your ass and grabbing onto one of yours before taking you and dragging you away.
It wouldn’t hit you until much later, but the very first kiss you had ever had with Shouto was in the middle of a dance floor, at a party where the male population had been ready to snatch you up after your relationship with Shouto was so-called over.
You were breathless.
No matter how deep you inhaled, you felt like you weren’t having enough oxygen flooding your veins, filling your lungs. You laugh loudly in the night, uncaring about the strangers you passed looking at you and Shouto, who chuckled and snorted with every giggle you made.
This felt crazy, insane, something serendipitous and not real even in the smallest of bits.
He kissed you.
He wanted you.
He said he needed you.
Wants and needs were different things, but he said need.
He needed you.
Just you.
Your feet ached from the running, but you could only focus on Shouto, your mind filling and swimming in the memory of his body pressed to you. The way his lips ghosted over your neck, and the way he danced against you — with you. The four-block walk back to your apartment seemed too far, and your eyes locked on a nearing alleyway.
With much more strength than you should have, you shoved Shouto into the alleyway, your mouth immediately pressing onto his.
Shouto groaned into your mouth, letting you drink his noises as you pulled him close, consuming him in a messy clash of teeth, spit, and tongue. You whined back, your legs slotting between his thigh and grinding down on the hard muscle. It alleviated the growing, scorching heat in your panties but also intensified it, making you want for more and more and more.
“You drive me fucking insane,” Shouto groaned in your mouth, shifting and guiding your rolling hips his thigh better, more fluid, more intense.
Your eyes barely cracked open, your mouth no longer kissing him put pressing against his in an open mouth pant. Your drunken breath saying nothing but implying the world.
Something Shouto was more than keen on giving you.
“Holy fuck,” he whispered for you to hear, so reverent, so holy. And so that you, the center of his world, the only thing he saw and believed in, knew how passionately, how ardently he believed in you, his mouth slid down your neck, and his teeth sunk in your flesh. He claimed you, praised you, making you a part of him.
“I’m still so mad at you!” you moan, voice pitched, whiny, and deliriously high. “I love you, asshole. I love you, and you sleep around! I love you, and I don’t care if you sleep around, but you care that I sleep around?!”
“I love you too,” Shouto mumbles against your neck, his teeth continuing to press into your skin that seems to explode with heat at the revelation. “I love, and I’m an idiot; I’m so sorry.”
And then he does something with his tongue against your neck, the soft of swipes, the wet tickling heat making your head slam back against the brick wall, and a mangled, strangled moan of unadulterated want emits from you.
“We'll talk about this in the morning,” you pant, fingers fisting in his shirt. “We can fix this, but right now, shut up and fuck me.”
“Y/n—”
“I’m horny,” you interrupt, hips sharply jutting into his leg. “You made me horny. Take responsibility.”
His eyes flashed dark, his nostrils flaring, and your words cemented in his head. He resumed his painting, his worship on your neck as you cried loudly in the alleyway, desperate, needy for more.
It was dizzying to have him on you like this.
For so long, you had only touched him in a few ways, had only ever felt a specific type of warmth. But this was unlike anything you’ve ever done with him, to him. It felt like you were burning and freezing, consumed by heat and energy and everything Shouto. His all too familiar cologne filled your nose, drowning your brain, invading your senses. His frantic heartbeat felt against your own body, telling you exactly how you were affecting him, how you made his heart speed and jump with every breathy whine.
“Fuck, I can’t do this. We need to get home now!” Shouto growls, his hands grabbing you by the wrist yet again and pulling you away.
His strides are long, quick, and powerful. You’re running to keep up, beautifully out of breath, staggering and stumbling to keep up in his objective to get back to the apartment now.
It doesn’t seem to take long before he’s pushing open the doors to the apartment complex, corralling you through the doors and into the elevator to get to the eleventh floor. The elevator doors are behind you, and with no one else in the life, you turn on him and immediately resume your own endeavor of claiming Shouto with your mouth, body, and soul. He matches your intensity, hands roaming from where the clasp of your bra sat to the curve of your ass. He grabbed you, pulled you in closer, the air in his nose staggering as you stammer against his mouth.
Teeth touch lips, tongues in each other's cheeks, and Shouto leads you out of the elevator backward, his one hand on your waist forever steady and the other one holding the key. Your fingers are back in his hair, pulling and tugging sharply on the soft, short strands with nearly disappeared gel. He gets to the door, fumbling with the key as you continue to kiss him, distracting him with the smallest of movements.
“Which room?” he asks against your mouth, pushing you through the threshold, his foot closing the door behind him.
The shoes are haphazardly kicked off and you’re now on your tiptoes to continue kissing him as you were. You tried to think, tried to figure out if you wanted to be surrounded by Shouto’s scent or to have him displayed in your room. His teeth then suckle on your bottom lip, biting down on the swollen, hot flesh just gentle enough that your mind draws a blank and your voice responds on its own.
“Mine.”
You shriek then, Shouto swiftly picking you up off the floor and you panic, hands swatting and beating on him as you scream to let you down. He continues walking, holding you without a worry, his arms remaining strong and firm beneath you. But with your distraction, with your lips no longer pressed sinfully against his, Shouto’s mouth finds a junction point on your clavicle and sinks his teeth down again, claiming you once more.
“S-Sho—” your voice hitches, the feeling too intense for you to process all at once. You hear your room door open and close, and without warning, you’re soaring through the air before collapsing on the bed.
“You think I go to the gym to get muscles for fun?” Shouto taunts, his fingers hooking under the dark grey t-shirt he’s wearing. “Angel, I go to the gym to make sure I can fuck you in any position, against any surface or wall you want.”
Your body feels like it's scorching as he removes his shirt, his muscles rippling and moving seductively with the devious, intentional movement.
“What’s wrong, y/n?” Shouto asks, the shirt dropping to the floor, removing all traces of oxygen from your person. He steps closer, fingers circling around your ankle and suddenly pulling you in toward him until you were sitting at the edge, his lips hovering over yours. “Cat got your tongue?”
Your tongue feels dry in your mouth, but your eyes narrow before you push up and capture his mouth back with yours. He kisses you back deeply, bending down so that you begin to shift backward, allowing him the space to crawl onto the bed with you, and at the last moment, your leg wraps around his waist and spins the both of you. Shouto gasps as you pin him onto the mattress, your tongue invading his mouth, brushing and swirling against his, coaxing his own tongue back into your own mouth. With the wet heat in your mouth, your teeth playfully, just gently dig into his appendage and tug.
“No, but it seems like I got yours,” you humor him, your teeth releasing his tongue, and Shouto looks up at you like you were both the sun and the moon, and the stars were a gift to him.
It takes your breath away.
Shouto grins, shifting onto his elbows so that he’s closer to you before kissing you again.
The kiss is growing louder, both your mouths ever so consuming, trying to relay years of repressed, unknown emotions and feelings within a drastic, incredible touch. Your hips begin shifting against his crotch, humping his clothed erection, demonstrating yet again the power and grace you hold in your body.
Shouto’s hands move from your ribs up to your breasts, and with the hot, rough flesh of his skin, he squeezes your tender flesh. You moan into his mouth, hips bucking wildly against him at the sensation. It isn’t a powerful flesh, but a reminder, a demonstration of just what and where he could inflect passionate actions.
Your hands scour his chest, fingernails dragging teasingly down his firm, developed muscles, fingers flicking and teasing at his own exposed nipples. Shouto grunts into your mouth, hips bucking powerfully upward into your clothed cunt, and you splutter at the power behind it. But it seems as though Shouto is over the fishnet mesh shirt and crop top you’re wearing because he’s tugging it out of the waistband of your jeans and commands in a deep, lust-ridden voice: “Off.”
Goosebumps flash across your skin, bubbling and spraying across your sensitive skin as your shirt and crop top join Shouto’s on the floor. Your gasp loudly when Shouto rolls the both of you over swiftly, his mouth immediately pressing hot, viper kisses on your breasts. All thought and reason leave your mind as his teeth nip and pull. His fingers pushing the straps of your bra off your shoulders and shoving your boobs out of the bra in a firm hold.
“You have no idea how fucking long I’ve wanted to touch you, kiss you, fuck you,” Shouto whispers, his tone almost dark as his hot air fans against your already pebbling nipples. “Fuck, angel, you’re better than anything I’ve ever dreamed about.”
You whine loudly, fingers tangling in his hair as you desperately, wordlessly try to persuade him to put his lips around your attentive, eager nipples.
“I always forget you got these things,” Shouto says in wonder, his fingers touching the metal bars sitting so innocently, deviously on through your nipple. He tugs on the bar, and all the nerves in your breast fire and tingle, and your feet curl by his back as you whimper. “Fuck... I can’t believe I forgot…”
“S-Shouto, I fucking swear!” you almost screech, hands desperately pulling at strands of red and white, wanting his teeth and tongue and the suction of his mouth on your nipple. “Stop. Fucking. Talking!”
Shouto chuckles, his eyes of blue and grey flashing up at you dangerously, knowingly.
“Okay,” he says cheekily, and as if he read your thoughts, his teeth gently bit down on your all too ready nipple. Your head slams against the mattress, your chest feeling alive as if you had been electrocuted. He sucks your nipple, teeth tugging on the sensitive flesh, clacking against the metal in your flesh. His fingers taking care of your lonesome nipple, keeping it company with gentle, purposeful rolls as he has you sobbing his name.
“Please, please, please,” you beg, although you have no idea what you’re begging for. Your hips pathetically grinding into his clothed cock, trying to get yourself to cum while not having been touched. “Sho— Shouto!”
Shouto pulls away from your nipple with a loud pop. His breath panting, short, and overwhelmingly strained as if simply sucking your throbbing, needy nipple had given him the same amount of pleasure as it did you before consuming your forgotten one. Just as before, you melted against him, begging please, pretty please to him but never telling him what you were wanting. You didn’t know what you were wanting.
But unlike before, his hands leave their attentive position on your free nipple and slam your hips back down onto the mattress, keeping you down and still as he continued his ministrations until you were nipplegasming. You choked as the orgasm consumed you, your body going rigid and your eyes rolling to the depths of your head as his hot mouth was all you could think of. For a moment, the needy wet heat between your thighs was easily ignorable, something unneeded until Shouto was pulling away and kissing you again.
His chest was pressed tight against your own chest, your sensitive, overstimulated nipples rubbing against his chest with the welcomed friction as you let out a wordless, near-dizzy sigh into Shouto’s mouth. He kissed you with incredible passion, with dizzying heat, and consuming lust.
Your voice was so small, your voice easily drowned in Shouto’s mouth as your fingernails dug into his back and raked down pathetically, desperately proving that you were still here. Still fighting him on just who would win this night. Your fingers went down the curve of his spine, trailing down until you found the waistband of his sweats, and with his mouth everso distractingly on the swell of your breasts, biting, marking, and sucking hickies and his print on you for forever, he helped you slide the pants off.
In an almost dramatic fashion, his eyes burning deep into yours, leaving you stunned and a worshiper at his feet, he rose off your bed and let the pants fall. You shakily inhaled, your eyes suddenly transfixed and only seeing the hard, leaking dick that stood tall and proud against his twitching stomach. At the mere sight of him, you now truly, completely, and entirely understood just why the girls were obsessed.
From tip to the base, he was thick, the flush of his skin gorgeous, the curve of his cock optimal to fuck anyone. He was long, thick, and delicious—trimmed pubes of red and white and balls that had your mouth watering and going dry. You wondered, imagined, tried to visualize just how much it was going to hurt getting that in you. You’ve never had a man with a dick like that, never had to choke or fuck on something that looked like it would possibly render you stupid the moment you were impaled.
“Can I?” you ask, ‘can I touch you? Can I suck you?’ go unsaid.
“You owe me one,” Shouto says, his words teasing if it wasn’t for the way his voice betrayed him with the eagerness, the want and inexplicable tell that says if you don’t touch him, he will lose his fucking mind. “Please, do it.”
You’re dragging him back onto the bed, sitting him by your headboard, spreading his legs apart as you situate yourself between them. With a tentative, shaky hand, you reach out and grab on his dick.
His flesh is hot to the touch; it's hard and twitches just so at your grasp. Shouto lets out a gasp mixed with a whine, and you look at him with wide eyes and parted lips. Unable to help yourself, you lean in, your nose touching the underside of his length and nuzzling into the flesh. You look back up at him with hooded eyes, eyes dark with mirth, lust, and an overwhelming need to please Shouto. He stares back, eyes entirely too bright, almost scared, almost as if he can’t believe this is happening.
You smile softly, eyes breaking contact to look at the swelling cock in your hand, and then back at him as your tongue pokes out of your mouth and puts a long, wet stripe against his length.
And Shouto?
Shouto moans like a man who’s had warm food after days of starving.
You lick from base to tip, saliva mixing with precum as your mouth presses teasing, open mouth kisses down the length of his cock, tongue pressing against the sweltering heat of his balls.
“Fuck, y/n, stop teasing,” Shouto grits, his hips pathetically snapping into nothing, his hands desperately trying to touch you, to which you swatted him away each and every time. You tut, shaking your head. With both your hands fisting his dick at the middle of his length, your squeeze and pull in opposite directions.
The reaction is one that you were hoping for, Shouto’s head slamming to the headboard with a clash, his legs jumping just a bit, and precum coming out in even heavy drops. You laugh breathlessly at his display, enamored with how fucking easy he is to get to make noises. He’d never made noises before, no other girl had him the way you did, and that made you crazy with power.
Before you wanted to, your mouth consumed to head of his cock, allowing the musky smell that was completely and only Shouto to fully consume you. You sucked on his thick swollen head, tongue pressing on the leaking slit on his head as he choked on your name. You smile, taking him in further, straining against the weight in your mouth, the pressure on the back of your throat, and the stretch of your throat. As soon as you had him a bit way in, you were pushing out, his hips driving to find you but missing you. Shouto’s noise was almost broken, near needy, and your head spun with his noises. Unable to stop, you pushed in again, allowing the drive of his hips to send his cock further down your throat.
Tears filled your eyes at the action, his cock much too large, much too thick to be fucked into your throat as such. Your fists acted as a barrier as you adjusted, your throat humming, mouth moaning as Shouto lost himself to the heat of your wet mouth. You bobbed your head, fucking him diligently and intently with your mouth, driving him further down, your tongue and hollowed cheeks. You sucked his dick with the intention of ruining him, of making him fill your mouth and throat with him so he could never doubt that it was him you wanted, him you needed to consume. You let go of one hand, allowing it to fondle with his balls as his cock went further into your mouth, the sounds of your choking, gagging, and crying egging him on.
“You take me so good,” Shouto sang to you, whispering words that only you’ve heard. “Fuck, angel, take me all the way. I know you can do it.”
With his hands at the back of your head, your fingers squeezing his balls, and the shaky removal of your final hand on his cock, he drives his hips all the way up. Shouto curses loudly, and you choke, feeling the rush of cum shooting down your throat, and you’re let free.
“Swallow it all, don’t spit it up,” Shouto breathes, his body shifting upward, eyes intent, focused. “Let me see.”
You cough violently, mouth closed as you swallow the salty cum, only letting your mouth open to allow the drool and spit to drip from your flat tongue as you show him that you swallowed every last seed. He groaned, grasping you by the chin and pulling you back in for a passionate, all-consuming kiss. The taste of Shouto and his cum sat heavily in your throat, and you were shaking as he began to unbutton your jeans, shedding them off of you as he flipped you back around so that your back was resting against the mattress.
Salt sweat dripped down your neck, and Shouto left fingertip bruises on your waist, your knees and legs awkwardly kicking as you finally got your jeans off your ankles. You shuttered, feeling Shouto’s hot, spit-slick dick pressing against your stomach, your cunt flipping and twisting at the thought of taking him all in.
“You’re still, fuck… you’re still hard?” you gasp, Shouto’s fingers tracing the innards of your thighs, scratching at your ass, slapping it once, twice, leaving you pitched and shaking.
“How can I not be when you’re down beneath me?” Shouto asks, his eyes looking at you as if he was burning the very naked image to you in his brain for him forever. “You’re mine, right?”
The question itself, while unexpected, was not unwanted.
You feel yourself nodding, your fingers scratching up his flexed arms, “Yours and only yours.”
“Good,” Shouto smirks, leaning in, his entire weight on the one hand beside your head, making you groan as his lips were so close yet so far away. “I’m yours as you are mine.”
With that, his fingers pressed to your thus far, unattended to clit, your legs shaking, kicking the air as you howled in pleasure. But it was such an intimate place, something you never expected Shouto to ever touch, and so, in a voice so pathetic you couldn’t even recognize it as yours, you screeched: “D-Don’t touch that!”
Shouto cocked an eyebrow, his head tilting as his fingers swirled around your swollen nub, sending just enough electrifying pleasure through every neuron in your body. “Why not?” he asked, voice authoritative and curious and sadistic. “It’s mine — you’re mine. I can play with what’s mine whenever I want.”
The words make your entire will collapse, the words liquid heat in your ears and mind. You moan loudly, feeling Shouto adjust your hips, lining your spasming cunt with his cock, and with his tongue delving into your mouth, his lips pressing against yours, he slowly pushed into you.
Shouto was loud the entire way into you, the deep grunts, breathless moans, and mindless babble of how this was unlike anything he’s had before, better than anything he’s ever imagined. He bottoms out quickly, hands leaving purple bruises against your skin as you lay on the bed silent.
Your back is entirely arched, jaw slacked, voice dead on your tongue because the feeling of him buried deep within you is staggering. You let out a single tone noise, your mouth gasping for breath as your voice finally begins to come back to you.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whisper over and over, your legs tight around Shouto’s hips, shaking with the feeling in you. “God, y-you’re so big, Sho… I’m—”
You can’t finish your sentence because he shifts just enough that his cock is meeting places in you that had never been encountered before. Your eyes roll back again, your fingers pressing ruby red scars to his back as you scratch and tear his back.
“You’re so fucking tight, shit,” Shouto pants, his mouth panting against the sweat on your collarbone, his own breathing heavy and spaced. “You’re perfect, y/n, so fucking perfect.”
You preen with those words, your mouth finding a home at his temple to which you kiss him, drag your lips down to his ear. You bite and nibble as you adjust to him buried deep within you. And he heaves a sigh and pushes up off you, eyes daring to stare into you as he huffs almost in disbelief of this entire night.
“I’m going to start moving,” he says, fingers scratching down your sides to your thighs. “Are you ready?”
Not trusting your voice, you nod. Shouto smiles, leaning back down for one last kiss to which you quickly returned, staying there as his hips moved backward before thrusting back into you. It's the first thrust of many, but your arms wrap even tighter underneath his own, your nails scarring his back as he goes again and again. You fucks into you deliberately, readily, with purpose and skill that speaks wonders and lives up to the many rumors you’ve ever heard.
His thrusts are powerful, slapping into your thighs with a mighty smack, making you whimper and wail into his salty neck as your hips lift up to meet his. It's a powerful dance, a dizzying cycle. His cock sliding up and down your puffy velvet walls, your weeping walls clenching him in a vice, unforgiving and unwilling to let go.
He speaks praises into your ear, your yours, your mouth.
“Such a pretty angel, moaning for me, crying for me, tell me you want my cock. Tell me you want me buried in your fucking stomach.”
You are converted to him in return, seeing him, speaking to him, devoted to him.
“Fuck, I want you more. Faster, harder! Don’t stop! I can feel you in my stomach, Sho! Fuck! Fuck me, fuck me fuck me!”
His weight is pressed on your thighs, spreading your thighs further apart, fucking into deeper, fucking you so powerfully, so desperately your soaked cunt squelches and drips your essence, soaking your bed and his legs. Your teeth sink into his skin, copper filling your mouth, and your vision feels missing as you are slamming your hips up, rolling them desperately to fuck back into him. You can feel his hand clutching yours, pressing it into the mattress as he somehow speeds up again, drilling you into the mattress, the bed creaking and bending under both your weight.
“More, more, more!”
And he gives, and gives, and gives.
You wail his name, the heat in your skin, tickling your clit and innards making you sweat, the alcohol on your skin sticking you to Shouto.
Shouto grunts your name, hisses your name, damns you heaven and back for having such a fucking grip on him. It's when he looks into your eyes, cock drilling into you at a speed and power that no human should ever obtain, one hand gripping yours and the other pinching and teasing your clit, you cum, bursting open at the seams.
Your orgasm is loud, clenching, all-consuming, and you drag Shouto down with you as he stammers, shudders, and cums deep within your womb. His seed spilling out of you as the both of you collapse onto the bed with breathless, thoughtless minds.
“Fuck,” he says.
“Right?” you chuckle.
And with your nose pressed to his sweaty, sex-lulled body, you fall asleep with his hands traveling up and down your spine. Hopefully, things would be well when you woke up.
P R E S E N T
To stop you from screeching so loudly you woke up the entire world, Shouto held his hand to your mouth, his eyes wide, terrified, and completely confused.
“Please stop yelling… my head hurts…” Shouto begs, his face completely exhausted but with that post-orgasm sleep glow.
“We had sex?!” you shriek, throwing his hand off your mouth. “We were mad at each other, and we had sex?!”
“Oh,” Shouto seems to remember, his head rolling before he sat up, bringing you up with him. “Right, we should talk about that, huh?”
“You think?!” you shriek, entirely overwhelmed with the fact that you had done so much embarrassing shit last night.
It’s quiet for a bit. The birds chirping outside an almost cheerful taunt as the both of you, for the first time in seventeen years, find it too awkward to talk. No one wants to speak first, to mention the elephant in the room, for once it happened, there really was no going back. Not that there was much to go back from.
“I’m in love with you,” Shouto finally says. It’s an admittance, a whisper that's strong despite it told in such a hushed voice as if you would laugh at him as he confessed. “I’ve actually been in love with you for as long as I can remember.”
Now that shocks you.
Your eyes are wide, and you’re staring at Shouto, unsure what to say, what to ask, but you know you need more answers.
“I know, hard to believe, huh?” Shouto chuckles, his hand running through his sex and sleep disheveled hair. “It’s true, though… I don’t remember not ever being in love with you.”
“No… no way,” you say, your body running cold, and you shiver. You remember then that you’re sitting up, and you’re very incredibly naked. Shouto notices and moves to grab a blanket at the foot of the bed and wraps it around you. “That doesn’t make sense,” you argue, your furrowed brows making your skin crease as you try to think back on all your years and memories, looking for signs in which Todoroki Shouto loved you. “You never showed it.”
“Camie said the same thing,” Shouto sighed, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he shrugged nonchalantly. “Before I was sixteen… I don’t know; I guess I could understand why. I only ever talked to you, always paired up with you. I let you hold my hand, and I let you hug me… I thought me telling you that I had never been kissed before would make you want to kiss me, but it never did. I know I was awkward and a little different when we were younger, so when I was paired up with Camie… I thought she would help me.”
“By fucking you?” you asked, your frown deepening as you remembered your bitter feelings over Camie stealing Shouto’s virginity.
“She… she said that by being sexual, maybe you would see me as a man, and not the four-year-old crying boy in preschool,” Shouto smiled sadly, his fingers picking at one another. “Me having sex was supposed to show you that I was a man who wanted to see you as a woman in return, but it didn’t work.”
“Well, no shit,” you snort, relaxing a bit although you felt limp. You found yourself leaning against Shouto’s strong shoulders, your head landing heavily on him. “You went from a virgin to fucking anything with a wet hole.”
“...yeah, I’m sorry about that,” Shouto said with regret, his shoulders sagging just a bit. “At first, I thought I needed to fuck more girls to prove I was a man to you because you acted like nothing had happened after Camie… but sex was fun, it felt good.”
“Sex is good,” you agree with a soft chuckle to which he returned.
He shifted a bit, arms tightening and relaxing before he finally admitted, “It helped distract me from you because you looked at others the way I wanted you to look at me.”
“I’m sorry,” you whisper back.
“No, don’t be,” Shouto speaks firmly, his arm wrapping around your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your temple. “It was my fault. I was never assertive enough, confident enough to simply confess.”
“So, does you being in love with me having anything to do with you driving the entire male population away from me?”
Your eyes look up at him, finding his embarrassed gaze before he glances away.
“That actually wasn’t intentional… I guess I just talk about you a lot.”
“Yeah, but still doesn’t mean you couldn’t ever deny it yourself!”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Apologize then.”
“Y/l/n Y/n, I am sorry for making the entire male population we’ve ever come across think we were an item and not telling them otherwise. I am sorry for keeping you from enjoying sex while I continued to. I am lousy, and my love for you should be unreturned because that was ass of me.”
You sigh, your lips pursed to keep from smiling as you looked back at his handsome face.
“Now, ask me the damn question, crybaby.”
“Crybaby?”
“You finally admitted that you were, in fact, crying!!!!!”
If you asked Shishikura Seiji what the worst thing about being the third roommate to Todoroki Shouto and you was, he would give a million and three answers as to why it was the worst.
One: he absolutely hated how loud the both of you were. Todoroki Shouto was someone he thought was quiet and introverted, but whenever he was around you, he was loud. You were just plain old loud, and he thought it was annoying.
Two: he absolutely hated your rice. Call it petty, but after you fed him on his first night and tried putting him into a chokehold for saying the song your rice cooker sang at its end was the stupidest fucking thing ever made, everything you made taste like ash and dirt.
Twenty: he hated that there were biweekly karaoke nights. He would be studying away in his room and wanted to die when he heard the all too familiar sound of Mamma Mia’s Here We Go Again blasting in the living room.
Hundred fifty-seven: SO. MUCH. FUCKING. SEX.
Three hundred thirteen: SO. MUCH. DRINKING.
Five thousand: SO. MUCH. WEED.
Ten thousand three: you put his toilet seat up whenever you’re drunk, so he falls in when he goes to pee in the morning.
Five hundred: the way the both of you looked at each other, fucking disgusting.
To say the least, there were a lot of many different reasons scaling from actual issues to petty small shit, but Shishikura was not in any position to find a new apartment, so he stayed. To be quite honest, having been living with Dumb and Dumber (you and Shouto, respectively), he only thought there would be one thing that would make him lose his actual mind.
The day that would inevitably come and the both of you realized your feelings were, in fact, returned. He didn’t want to even imagine how the animalistic sex he often had to hear coming from your hallway would increase, or the sappy stupid romantic love he would see in the living room because as best friends, you both had no care for PDA and if you were allowed to kiss? Allowed to have sex? He feared he would have to wear a hazmat suit in every corner of the apartment. You both were already incredibly loud as a duo (see reason one as to why he hates living here); he feared the worst when the mutual love was realized.
But he exited his room a week after that Sunday morning with a fully loaded water gun just in case. His eyes narrowed, the hair on his neck raised as his beady eyes focused in on the living room.
Shouto sat on the couch, his back on the armrest, and you sitting between his thighs as you watched him play some game on his Switch, your smile large and annoyingly bright, but he realized that he couldn’t hear you screaming or speaking so loudly he could listen to the conversation.
No, as a matter of fact, Shishikura couldn’t hear a single word; the words being exchanged between you and Shouto spoke so softly, so intimately, it shocked him. Shishikura noticed with an almost awed surprise that even though your smile was as annoyingly bright as before. It wasn’t directed at anything but Shouto, and Shouto’s smile, while nowhere near as big, just as warm and full to you.
It was intimate, romantic even.
Nothing had changed in your relationship except now, finally, now, you were allowed to kiss and fuck each other like heat-driven animals.
Shishikura was shocked to his core, unable to comprehend the sight in front of him.
You nor Shouto paid him any mind, too lost in the game and in each other to look his way as he made his way into the kitchen for his lunch. Shishikura set the water gun on the counter, a small smile spreading on his face despite himself, and chuckled.
Maybe the two of you together weren’t something to hate on after all.
“Hey, is that a water gun?!”
3K notes · View notes
cyborg-franky · 2 years
Note
Can I get lucky number 4 with a fem/gn reader and Marco please? Whichever AU or Canon you want to do is fine with me I love reading all of things you come up with <3
Thank you <3 I hope you enjoy!
Marco x GN!Reader SFW Prompt: Wanting Poster/New Bounty Word Count: 458
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There were many things you loved about Marco, you could list them off to anyone who was willing to listen, sometimes you’d gush about your partner regardless of if the other person was in the mood. You loved everything about the zoan, one of the things that stood out from his other good qualities was how important and wonderful he would make you feel.
The man had one of the highest bounties on the sea, his name and abilities known so vast and wide. A reputation that proceeded him for sure. And this same dangerously powerful wanted pirate was sat at his desk with you.
Pouring you another glass of wine as he celebrated your bounty, it was small, you’d only just got noticed as someone to be concerned with by the government, you were worth pennies in the eyes of the government compared to Marco.
And here he was, admiring the wanted poster and eating a dinner he’d had made special for you both as a treat. To really celebrate your accomplishments. You felt proud of yourself because hewas so proud of you.
“It’s not that big of a deal Marco” You mumbled and sipped your wine.
“It is!” The blond said with a click of his tongue. “We all start somewhere, want to see my first wanted poster?” he asked which you agreed to with a vigorous nod.
Marco chuckled, giving you a lazy smirk before he started to open the draws on his desk, making a ‘aha’ sound as he pulled out a stack of posters, some included Thatch with even more questionable hair choices, Izou looking stunning in every single one, Ace looking like the same little shit you were used to.
“Here yoi!” He pulled a few off the top, laying them out to side so you could see. Marco as a 15-year-old with a big dumb grin and wide eyes, his wings spread behind him, he looked like a big blue chick who’d just learned to fly.
He tapped the numbers at the bottom, and you gasped, lower than your current one, he swapped another piece of parchment paper to show you his next one. Black hair, grumpy expression, half lidded eyes that you recognised, but the scowl on his face was something you’d never seen on the easy-going man.
“Wow Marco, what a state” You laughed and picked that one up to admire it.
“I was going through something but look at the number” He said before pulling it out of your hands, tucking it away never to be seen again, hopefully.
“Be proud of yourself yoi, you are getting there, and we are all proud of you, especially me” Marco smiled, taking your hand in his, a reassuring squeeze.
TAG LIST:
@undercoverweeeb @sanjithesimp @slut4animedilfs @acesmarigold @saisei-no-hano @fire-fist-ann @secretsnailor @dxvilmanlev @aifozu @useless-potatho @ASTRASARIA
122 notes · View notes
thenickelportrust · 3 years
Text
Masterpost
The Blurb:
It’s a story about a world full of heroes with odd and amazing powers! But… you’re not one of them. You don’t have powers, and you don’t plan to go and fight crime. No, you’re just a model, everyday citizen. A reporter, in fact, tied into the events of heroes but never really a part of them…
Except for one (well, two, but thats already said and done), little exception.
You work for The Nickelport Rust, a controversial paper known for one reason and one reason only.
Unmasking heroes.
_________
The Demo
Here!
Url: https://dashingdon.com/play/definitelynotrena/model-citizens-unmasked/mygame/
_________
The Characters
Characters Page (Has everyones genders, sexualities, and personalities. Includes minor characters)
Asks with everyone tagged
Finley Burke
Tag, Appearance
Rafael Darzi
Tag, Appearance
Jacob Greenhill
Tag, Appearance
Lucille “Lucy” Pinchette
Tag, Appearance
Yolanda Waltz
Tag, Appearance
Eileen Abney
Tag, Appearance
The Informant
Tag, Appearance
Ricky Dempsey
Tag, Appearance
Vera / Vega / Vincent Bayer 
Tag, Appearance
Erin Liu
Tag, Tag (before their name reveal)*, Appearance
Other specific Qs:
Where do the ROs live?
What about the MCs family?
*(there’s no link here yet because apparently I did not possess the foresight to actually tag the Qs with them as 10 before their name reveal so... that’s gonna take a hot second gimme a minute)
(Will also get the appearances up soon, too, having trouble finding the specific post with their appearances)
_________
Sketch Sunday, Fun Fact Friday, and Other Fun Things
Sketch Sunday Tag
Fun Fact Friday Tag
Short Stories Tag
_________
Other Social Media
Linktree
Redbubble
Itch.io 
Twitter 
Discord
_________
FAQ
When will the next update be out?
I don’t know the specific date and I’ll be honest I also don’t like giving specific dates because then if I break them that’s Bad. 
I do have a general goal and I’ll be happy to tell you my general goal but also keep in mind that, as always, Model Citizens: Unmasked is something written for fun and put up so others can have fun with it, too. While I wholly intend to see this project through to the end no matter what, I also intend to keep it as something I do for fun and relaxation, which does mean progress can slow if other priorities take precedence.
But all that aside--
Current General Goal for Next Update:
-- (i’ve been in a truman show style series of strange but minor misfortunes so its gonna take a hot sec to get that settled, sorry!) --
What will the next update be?
More stuff in the interview! Two main goals:
Adding more questions
I’m going to add some more basic questions to either make Yolanda more or less suspicious. So far not a lot of people have been kicked out of the interview and that’s good because it means I have more space to play around with the results of her suspicion.
To also go with this:
Upping the number of questions you can ask.
With the addition of questions you can ask I’m going to up the inquiry limit before you get kicked out of the interview. This will give you more room to pick and choose what’s important, I hope (allowing you to choose ones that aren’t as important to your article but could be a chance to curry favor / lower suspicion with her / just get to know Yolanda more, or stick to purely info gathering)
This will be a shorter update, and thus also come along quicker (not another year-long gap, aha) and hopefully with the higher inquiry limit and the extra questions make some secret scenes (getting kicked out and her romance, for example) more accessible in general.
Thanks for sticking around and your continued support!
Have you dropped this project? / Why is it so slow?
I know I kinda ramble-answered this in the first q but it’s my policy to be upfront and honest with the state of my priorities and this project:
Model Citizens: Unmasked is not dropped.
Model Citizens: Unmasked has always been for fun. This does mean it’s not going to be my number one priority most of the time-- however it also means I have zero qualms about taking all the time I need to do everything I want with it.
Model Citizens: Unmasked is going to be a very large undertaking. But that’s okay! Part of the reason I want to keep it as something I do for fun and relaxation and put up so others can relax and have fun with it is so that I don’t have to trim it back. I can let this story run wild and have three totally different paths for one scene because I’m not holding myself to a deadline or an expectation of word length or writing time or whatever. I can let myself go wild with 10 different ROs and their own storylines because I don’t care how long it takes to write them. 
I just wanna write them, so I will.
What’s the Current Word Count?
According to google docs: 350,000 words* *(rounded to the nearest 1,000 // including code (including that horribly messed up coding I have in chapter one, so once that’s fixed it might easily knock another 1-2K words off of that.)
(Send me some qs youd like in the FAQ if you want)
_________
General Content Warnings:
Drugs and alcohol, violence (in terms of fights, both physical and using weapons) / fantasy violence (in terms of powers), romantic content (nothing explicit).
If there’s anything else, let me know. Nothing should go into graphic detail, but they exist and there is some level of detail of each. So take care of yourselves!
Have a lovely day!
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kileaderie · 3 years
Text
Migraine: Part 7
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 ∙↬ Pairing: CEO!Seonghwa x Doctor!Reader
 ∙↬ Genre: Angst, Fluff
 ∙↬ AU Selected: Arranged Marriage
 ∙↬ Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 ||
Part 6 || Part 7
Word Count: 5.3K+ Words.
Summary: Seonghwa helps you to gain confidence but somehow, Jaehun's words made you wondered and worried for some reason.
Author’s Note: I’m sorry for the long wait, I’m a bit sick at the moment but that won’t stop me from writing, lol. Warning, this and the next part would be very angsty, so be prepared, anyway, enjoy. Hopefully, the tags are working and if there’s anyone wanted to be in the taglist, just tell me.
Taglists: @treasure-hwa​ @lmhmh01​
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Seonghwa casually walking to the counter, staring at the choices of delicious ice cream flavors. He pointed and asked for two cups of ice cream. He then paid, taking both of the cups in his hands, and walked towards where he and Hongjoong are sitting. He then sets the cups of ice cream in front of Hongjoong. He thanked him and Seonghwa takes the seat in front of him. Hongjoong slipped his spoon into his mouth and hummed at the taste, completely satisfied with Seonghwa's choice. Seonghwa chuckled before taking his spoon into his mouth, eating it in silence. Just then, Hongjoong realized something.
"Yah, usually if one of us asked each other to meet up, there would either be good news or bad news." Hongjoong raised a brow as he pointing his spoon at Seonghwa.
Seonghwa remains silent, only focusing on his ice cream. "Hello? Am I talking to a statue?" Hongjoong waved his hand in front of Seonghwa's face.
Just then, a small smile appeared on his face. "Thank you." He whispered.
"Huh-? What?" He lifted his head and smiled at Hongjoong. "I said, thank you."
"What the- what's that supposed to mean?" Hongjoong leaned against his chair, completely confused.
"I did it, and she enjoyed it." Seonghwa beamed and Hongjoong's eyes widen.
"You.. did.. not.." "Y-yes, yes I did." Seonghwa stutters as he recalled what happened last night.
Hongjoong stops eating his ice cream and awkwardly stares at Seonghwa. His mouth was slightly opened, completely in shock. He blinks multiple times and finally be able to breathe normally again. He then snorts and laughed loudly, making Seonghwa widens his eyes. He puts on the usual smug face he had and playfully smacks Seonghwa's left arm, making the poor boy enduring the pain with a smile.
"Aigoo~ The old Park Seonghwa I know has turned into someone new, I see." His tone of voice clearly shows he's teasing him.
"Aha.. Yeah, I guess.." Seonghwa whispered.
"Also, I've said something that made her cried this morning-" "What the fuck- Yah, Park Seonghwa-" "No, wait. Listen."
Hongjoong rolled his eyes. "Alright, continue with your explanation."
"I was encouraging her to accept Jaehun's request, you know the boy I told you." "Ah yes, then what happened?"
"Well.. Do you remember how I motivate you to marry the love of your life?" "Oh, yeah I do remember." "That's some pretty harsh memories, I gotta say." He hissed.
"Well, the longer I speak, the more tears I see and the more sniffles I heard from her." Hongjoong furrowed his eyebrows as Seonghwa sighed.
"Did it work though?" "Yes, of course." "I just got texts from her before coming here." Hongjoong nodded.
"Well, what did she send you?" "Just, about the date and time of the surgery is going to be, which is tomorrow's evening, and.. she sent me lots of cute stickers." Hongjoong scoffed and pats Seonghwa's arm. "You did good, Hwa."
"But I still feel bad for making her cry though, ugh, I think I'm becoming a bad husband." Seonghwa leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
"First of all, you got me, Kim Hongjoong, the best wingman of all time." He said, puffing out his chest proudly.
"Second, are you dumb? You're not going to be a bad husband, Hwa, more likely you won't be a bad husband." Hongjoong notified with a straight face.
"I hope so." Seonghwa sighs, taking out his phone after it buzzed.
"Well, I believe so." Hongjoong snickered.
"Oh wait, I gotta go. My secretary just texted me." Seonghwa said.
"Sure, hit me up if there's any problem." Hongjoong snapped his fingers and Seonghwa nodded, going towards his car.
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You put in the code to the apartment, twisting the handle, and step inside. It was odd because the lights are still on, usually, when you come home this late, the lights are already out. As you move forward, you hear the sound of the television, you continue to walk towards the living room. Then, you saw your husband sitting on the carpet, watching the television while eating a bowl of ramen. You snickered as his eyes became round when he spots you. He suddenly choked and quickly hit his chest while coughing as he reached for a glass of water that was already on the coffee table.
He drank quickly and sighed, his eyes watering from choking on the spicy ramen earlier. You rubbed his back and while hearing you scolding him, he smiled, loving to hear your voice after a long day at work, dealing with his own employee's attitude. He then apologizes, knowing his own mistake for trying to talk to you with a full mouth. You ruffled his fluffy hair before going inside of your room, taking a shower, and changed into pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. You then went out of your room, finding him sitting on the couch, blanket on top of his lap while holding the remote.
"What are you watching?" You asked, flopping on the couch beside him.
"Hospital playlist," Seonghwa said, hitting the pause button. "Wow, since when are you interested in this series?"
"I don't know, maybe because of your job?" He looks at you with a smile. "I wanna know what you're facing every day." You scoffed.
"If you say so." You shrugged, leaning your head on his shoulder as he pressed on the play button.
You cuddled up on the couch while Seonghwa brings the blanket to cover your body as well. He could definitely see your tired face and wondered if you were able to stay up. It didn't surprise him when halfway through the episode, he heard some soft snores coming from you. He turns his head to see you being sound asleep on his shoulder. Seonghwa chuckles softly as he shifts slightly to move the blanket aside and places your head on his lap, gently as to not wake you up. He makes sure your head is resting comfortably as he wraps the blanket around you again. He'd then kiss your forehead and mindlessly play with your hair while entertaining himself by watching the television.
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"We're losing him!" Wooyoung, one of the surgeons yelped as he tried to stop the bleeding.
"Doctor Yoo! Do something!" He insisted while glancing at you.
It happened so suddenly, one minute you had the scalpel in your hand and the next thing you knew, an artery was severed. Your gloved hands are covered in the blood squirting from the artery. The metallic smell of blood was almost too much for you to take at the moment, especially.. It's Jaehun's blood. The staccato beeping of the machine signified his heart rate, going lower and lower until it went to a straight line. You were shocked, making you dropped the tool on the floor, your eyes widen and you felt like your legs are frozen.
Everyone sighed, some of them groan in frustration and guilt. Just then another surgeon came from behind, placing a hand on your shoulder. Your eyes were full of tears as you took in Jaehun's body, lying lifelessly on the bed. You couldn't take it anymore, speed walking out of the room in a frenzy. You leaned against the wall, sliding slowly and sitting on the floor. You pulled your gloves off, holding and blankly staring at them. You dragged your knees closed to your chest and lowered your head against it.
Not able to hold it anymore, you burst into tears and let out an unnerving scream as you gripped the gloves. You felt some acidic bile build up in your throat but you wouldn't throw up. No, you just couldn't let yourself do that. Sniffling alone on the cold tile flooring, you then felt a soft touch caressing the top of your head. You slowly lifted your head and met with Jaehun's sad smile. He took the gloves from your hands and put them aside, brushing his small thumbs over the back of your hands while staring at you.
"Jaehun-ie.." You're beginning to get teary again and Jaehun nodded with a sad understanding smile.
He helped you to stand on your feet again and tightly hugging your legs. Suddenly, he whispered.
"Don't give up while I'm gone, noona." He said. "And it's not your fault, I love you.." Then he disappeared into dust.
"J-Jaehun! Don't leave me, please!" You shouted as you tried to catch the dust and that's when you awakened.
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Your body shook and you gasped as you opened your eyes. You felt heavy and sore as soon as you've woken up, blinking a lot to get used to the unfamiliar surrounding. While gripping the blanket tightly, you felt a hand softly stroking your head. You then look up, seeing your husband's head resting against the couch. Even though his eyes were closed, his hands were still moving, making you relaxed. You lowered your gaze, sleepily staring over nothing other than the blanket you're fidgeting with.
You suddenly recalled the nightmare you were having. You whimpered and curl into a ball. You try to maintain your breathing, trying to not wake him up from his sleep, and then you carefully wipe your tears away with your sleeve-covered hand. In silence, you reach for Seonghwa's other hand and bring it closer to your face. You closed your eyes and rubs his knuckles, playing with his fingers to distract yourself from the rising anxiety. Your voice hitched as you mumbling to keep yourself stable.
"I'm okay, he'll be okay, we'll be okay.." You repeated over and over again until you've made Seonghwa awoken from his sleep.
"Baby." You heard Seonghwa's husky voice as he stares down at you.
"Nightmares?" He asked, casually shoving your hair back from your sweaty face.
"Y-yes.." You shakily answered. "I-It's.. Jaehun-ie.." You gripped his fingers tightly, earning a soft hum from him.
"Everything will be fine, it's just a nightmare, okay?" He said rubbing your cheek with his thumb and you nodded. "Okay.."
He continues to stroke your head while singing a song, making you became sleepy again. Once he confirms that you're asleep, he carefully releases his hand from your grip and shifts in his seat. He places one arm around your back and the other arm around the bend in your knees. He effortlessly lifts you and gently squeezes your legs and back, bringing your body closer to his. He lowly chuckles when you sleepily grip onto his shirt. He then carries you towards his bedroom, carefully placing you on the bed and cover your body with the blanket.
Before he walks out the door, he lazily smiles as he looks at you and goes to your bedroom. He picks up the plushies and went inside his room again, wiggling the plushies in his hands and places them down. He then hopped on the bed and smiles as he watches you peacefully sleeping while hugging them. He pulls you closer and gives a quick kiss on your exposed forehead. He pats your back and whispers a sweet goodnight before closing his eyes, proceed to sleep again.
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"Baby. Baby, wake up." Seonghwa whispered as he patted your cheek.
"Come on, I've made a quick breakfast before we both going to work." You frowned and cover yourself with the blanket.
Seonghwa sighed and sits on the edge of the bed. "It's an important day, you have to get ready for this evening."
"I'm not ready.." You mumbled. "Yoo Y/n, we've talked about this." He sternly warned.
"In that dream.. I failed, isn't it a sign that the surgery won't be successful?" You questioned him including yourself too.
"I don't know if I'm capable to do it on children.." You whimper, lightly kicking around and hitting his waist multiple times.
"Ow- Okay, baby, listen." He puts his arm on his waist as a defend while the other catches your legs.
You stopped your tantrum and peek over the cover. Seonghwa sighs and shook his head, but then he kindly smiles at you. He then gets up from the bed and strolls towards the bedside table to get his phone. He then tapped an app, scrolling through it seriously. You intently watching every move he made and then he sits down, showing you the screen. You bit your lip and pouted as you read the texts you sent yesterday. You sure were confident and brave enough to accept the challenge but then again, here you are now.
"Do you think I can do it?" You look up to him and he smiled.
"Of course, 100% you could." He cooed, pinching your cheek.
"Now get off of this bed and get ready. I'll wait in the kitchen." He ruffles your already messy hair and went out of the room.
"I can do it, yes, yes I can." You whispered, gaining more confidence.
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After shutting the door behind you, you saw Seonghwa sitting at the counter in the kitchen, casually scrolling on his phone. You observe his look today, his black button-up shirt neatly being tucked into his maroon slacks, he also wore a tie that matches his pants and his coat that he wears. His hair was perfectly styled, exposing half of his clear forehead. He shifts his gaze and his eyes are met with your astounded expression. He beckons you to come to him and patted the stool beside him.
You smile once more then head to the kitchen, sitting on the stool, and watch as Seonghwa gently pushes a plate for you. You thanked him for the meal before starting to dig in. He watches you with a smile on his face and frowns as he had to continue dealing with that one problematic employee. Once you're done, you noticed how frustrated Seonghwa looks. Not wanting to add fuel to the fire, you stood up with the plate and went to the sink.
You wash the plate and grabbed a cup before making a cup of coffee. You took a few glances at him as you wait for the coffee machine to finish brewing your coffee but he remains focused on the phone. You shrugged and turn around to grab a spoon, then your cup of coffee from the machine. Seonghwa suddenly coughing as he scrunched his face when he detects the smell of the freshly brewed coffee. You scoffed because of his silly expression and you drink your coffee.
Seonghwa sighs as he puts down his phone, standing up from the stool earlier. He then leaves you and sits on the bench by the front door, wearing his black oxford shoes. After a while, you sit beside him, putting on your sneakers. He got up first and takes his duffle bag, along with his other stuff. You got up first and twist the doorknob, opening the door. Yet, something stops you before you went out to leave for work. Seonghwa raised his brows as he saw you not moving, frozen at the doorframe.
"Hey, what's wrong?" He questions and heard the same mumbling you did from last night.
You sigh, feeling your heartbeat has stabilized, you turn around. Seonghwa nodded and leans down before tenderly leaving kisses all over your face. You both walked out, closing the door and used the elevator to the parking lot, and drive to your workplace. As you're driving, you stopped by at the traffic lights next to your husband's car.
You were nervously tapping on the steering as you waited for the lights to turn green. Seonghwa on the other hand was smiling as he stares at you, he then pulls out his earbuds and wore them, getting his phone out as well to give you a call. You glance at your phone and saw his name popped out, you frowned and look outside of the window. He tilted his head, gesturing for you to pick up the call. You quickly put on your earphone and answer.
"What is it, honey?" You ask, glancing back and forth from the lights to him.
"I just want to remind you to not stress too much and you can do it, got it?"
"Ah, thank you.." You turn to smile at him.
"Also, keep your eyes on the road, baby." He smirks and started to drive away.
You were watching as he leaves first and then you were surprised when the car behind you started honking, quickly you pull the gear and started to drive. You could hear him chuckling and saying he loves you before ending the call, proceeds to turn his car to the left while yours to the right. You snickered and pull your earphone off, letting it hang around your neck. You continue to make your way to the hospital, reversing your car to park at the parking lot.
"I'm ready." You whispered to yourself and get out of the car, confidently walking into the building.
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You were on your way towards your office and opened the door but stop for a second when you heard someone shouted. You turn your head to see who it was and it turns out to be Doctor Jung or more comfortably called Wooyoung, walking towards you with Doctor Kang beside him. You let go of the handle and immediately bowed at them. Doctor Kang had a smile on his face as he was holding a clipboard, so as Wooyoung.
"We're heading to the surgery room to prepare some stuff, you can see Jaehun if you want to," Wooyoung informed.
"Alright, thank you." You bowed and so do they, continue to walk away.
You sigh and enter your office, putting down your bag and taking your clipboard on the desk. You did a double check, wondering if you missed anything else. Just then your eyes landed on the flowers that were inside of the flower pots and a vase that both Seonghwa and Jaehun gave. You immediately grabbed a water sprayer and sprayed some water on them, you then took a deep breath, caressing the petals as a bit of good luck before leaving again. Knocking on the door to Jaehun's room, you saw him sitting on his bed while leaning against the headboard, twirling a slightly withered flower with his fingers.
"Oh, noona." He smiles, putting the flower down in front of him. You could see how pale and thin he is now. You've heard that he didn't have the appetite to eat, and somehow that makes you worried.
"Hey." You whispered as you approach him, standing beside the bed. "So, today's the day, huh?" "Yeah, you know, I believe in you, noona." He looks up at you and his expression is sadden.
"But.. if something did happen, please, don't blame yourself." He whispers, lips quivering.
"I may not make it out alive, but it's okay, at least I'll die in your arms, right?" He snickered as a tear rolled down his puffy cheek.
"Thanks, noona, for making me feel comfortable here. You're the only one who's  always there for me.." He sobs as he bites his lower lips.
"I love you, noona, more than my own family." He sadly smiles, there and then tears were falling rapidly, so as you. "Please.. don't say that, Jaehun-ie."
"B-but if it's true that I can't get out of the operating room alive, I want noona to keep our memories, you know? The flowers I gave, please take care of them for me." He sniffles and picks up the previous flower he had.
"I have three last flowers to give you, and I have questions for each of them." You wiped your tears and nodded.
"Why do you think the color of this flower fades, noona?" You huffed, try to gain focus again. "It's.. dead?" He then smiles.
"Correct, flowers need lots of attention, sustenance, and care. Just like Love, but without those, it wilts and eventually dies." Jaehun explains and handed you the dead flower.
Then he moved to his bedside table and grabbed another flower, healthy and lovely, he then twirls it around. "How about this one, noona?"
"Healthy and beautiful." "It is gorgeous because it's starting to grow and being fond to love." He kindly observes the flower.
"I've read that a flower can't blossom without sunshine." He smoothly told and turns his head to you. "Same goes to humans can't live without love. I just have a feeling that noona's life is just like this flower, a newborn soul." You snickered at his words and he smiles.
He gestures you to hand over the flower you had and hold it beside the healthy flower. "The last question, do you see Seonghwa-hyung as this flower.." He lifts the withered one. "Or this flower?" He then lifts the other one, making your eyes widen.
"The first one shows he's a corrupted soul. Second, a newborn soul." He raised a brow at you as he waits for your answer, but you remain silent.
"I knew you can't answer this one, but it's okay." He softly smiles. "I can answer that for you, noona." Jaehun puts away the flowers and took another one out under his pillow.
"It's a half fading and half healthy flower. For me, Seonghwa-hyung is a corrupted soul for such a long time that begins to seek love after years of hiding his true identity. He once told me that he had never wanted to be loved or wanted to love someone. Then when we met again, he told me he wanted to be loved and wanted to love someone, and that someone is you, noona."
"That's why I compare his life with this flower right here because I and hyung are sometimes the same, but mine is.. more corrupted." He giggled and you were confused.
"Oh, and noona, you only have two choices, it's up to you if you want to keep it alive or let it die." He gently places the three flowers onto your palms. "Because, you may save its life, you just got to find a way to do so." He gently squeezes your other hand. "But remember, the dead flower couldn't be saved at all, no matter what you do, it won't come back to life."
You were dazed, blankly staring at your palm. Just then Jaehun let go of your hand and heard the door being opened. You then realized there is a nurse inside the same room as you and quickly hiding the flowers in your coat's pocket. The nurse then helped Jaehun to sit in the wheelchair, pushing him to have his afternoon stroll. You stepped out of the room, ambling towards your office, and sit on the office chair.
"What does he mean by his life is more corrupted..?" You stare at the ceiling. "Wait a minute.." You pull the flowers out of the pocket and arrange them on the desk.
"Healthy. Half-withered. Dead." You mutter as you leaned onto your palm. "If I'm this healthy flower and Seonghwa is the half-withered one.." You furrowed your eyebrows.
"Does that mean he equates his life with this dead flower?" You whispered in wonder.
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Seonghwa reaches for a packet of his medicine from his duffel bag, takes one pill into his mouth, drinks some water, and swallows. He puts the water bottle back on the desk and he lifted his eyebrows as soon as he saw his secretary, Jongho, stood by the door. He bows first before stepping further towards him, a few files in his hands. He carefully places them on the desk and stood straight, hands behind his back. Seonghwa silently looks through the files, eventually checking the designs that his workers from the designing team have created for the interior and exterior of the new building he plans to build.
Supporting his chin on his palm, he went through pages after pages of pictures, feeling quite unsatisfied with the work. Furrowing his eyebrows, he sighed as he glances from Jongho to the files. Jongho gulped and anxiously fiddling with his fingers as he waits. Finally, a couple of designs have catches his attention, beckoning Jongho to tell the designers to go for the chosen designs. He nodded and takes the files back, bowing once again before he left the room.
Seonghwa sighs, leaning back onto his chair, and spins around as he glanced up to the ceiling. He then yawned, feeling sleepy after taking the medicines earlier. He was about to doze off but he shook his head and widen his eyes to keep himself awake. He pats his cheeks before going for his phone that was on the desk. He stares at the lock screen, it was the photo of you and him before watching a movie together. He snickered as he remembered the time when you can't find him after you're done buying the popcorn and drinks because of the crowds.
Tapping on the photos apps, he keeps himself awake by watching the videos of you and him along with the silly and candid photos he secretly took. He loudly giggled as soon as he heard your whining to turn off the camera from the video he's watching. Minutes have passed, suddenly, he heard someone clearing their throat, he glances up and was taken aback when he saw Jongho again. He was standing near the desk and Seonghwa immediately turns off his phone and puts it down on the desk. He awkwardly crosses his arms against his chest and lifted a brow at Jongho.
"Uh.. Am I interrupting something, sir?" He asks with a curious look.
"N-nothing particular." He replied, earning a hesitant nod from Jongho.
"Anyway, why are you here?" "Right, the head of our designer team wants to discuss the choices you've made, sir."
"From the way he looks, he doesn't seem quite happy about it, sir." "Tell him we'll have a meeting in an hour."
"Alright, sir." He bowed and left the room.
Seonghwa could hear the guy ranting outside, he rolled his eyes out of annoyance and sighed. Then, he stood up after taking his phone and walked towards the door. He glares at the team leader and glances at his wristwatch. He puts his hands inside of his pockets and motions both of them to head for the elevator. Jongho immediately nodded and stood up from his desk with the files, walking behind Seonghwa as they ditched the previous guy. The team leader growls in annoyance and follows them, standing at the back as they go down the elevator.
"Jongho, get the whole team in the meeting room, please." "Of course, sir."
"What do you mean the whole team will be there? I want to discuss in private!" The guy pulled Seonghwa's collar, forcefully making him look at him.
"Kang Youngsoo, do you want to be demoted?" Seonghwa calmly asked and the guy's eyes widen.
"First of all, you're making fuss outside of my office, even though I told you we could discuss later in the evening."
"Second, you're screaming at my secretary and disturbing his work."
"Lastly, you're disrespecting me as your boss." Seonghwa pushed his hand roughly and adjusted the collar of his white shirt.
After that, the elevator stops after arriving on the 5th floor, and the doors opened. Seonghwa angrily got out of the elevator, walking to the meeting room. Jongho went to the other side of the direction to get the whole team to be in the room. Youngsoo clenches his fists and speed walking to the room Seonghwa's in. He sits in one of the chairs while sending few glances at him. Seonghwa calmly pulls out his phone and sits down, sighing as he stares at the lock screen. Then he puts his phone back after the whole team members entered the room, along with Jongho who sits near Seonghwa's desk.
"Alright, since everyone is here." Seonghwa stares at Youngsoo and then back at the others.
"Let's begin the meeting now."
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Hours have passed, you're currently in a meeting with the other surgeons. You nervously look at your wristwatch and in a few minutes, you'll have to be in the surgery room. You could see how bored Wooyoung is, sitting next to you while trying to balance a pen on the tip of his nose. Minutes later, all of you were dismissed, you could hear the chatters as they exiting the hall. Wooyoung stretches his limbs, approaching Doctor Kang from behind. You then reach for your phone, staring at it for a while. Then, your fingers move to type on the keyboard.
<You>
- Few more minutes until the surgery.
- Hopefully, everything went well.
You sent it to your husband, waiting for him to reply but he seems to be offline. You shrugged, he is a busy man after all. Then you heard Wooyoung's shrieked as your name spilled from his loud mouth. You shook your head and follow him and Doctor Kang. All of you walk in a different direction, making your walk separately. For barely 2 minutes, you were pacing in front of the door to Jaehun's room. You give a short knock before opening the door.
You approach the bed, there was he, lying motionlessly on the bed. You get closer towards him and try to wake him up but he didn't move. You try to wake him up again, but this time with more force. Eventually, the pain woke him up from his dead sleep. He looks confused, dragging his overly tired body up to properly sit, leaning against the headboard. His entire body was trembling, as he fought the urge to scream as if something is bothering him.
"Are you okay?" You place a hand on his forehead.
"Y-yes, but my head hurts a bit and somehow I can't breathe normally. I think it was because of how nervous I am." He weakly smiles.
"If you say so.." You whisper as you stroke his hair.
A wave of dizziness hits him as he looks up, the bright lights coming through the window triggering his sensitive eyes. His head immediately falling to his chest. His index finger pointed at the window, signaling you to close the curtains. You're worried about his condition, only less than 15 minutes and he'll be healthy again. You'd rush to the window, closing the curtain shut, making the room a bit dim.
"Jaehun-ie." You grabbed his hand, gently rubbing the knuckles.
He looks at you and tilted his head. "Yes, noona?"
"I will save you." You said, determined to be ready for what's to come.
Jaehun giggles, smiling afterward. He then nodded as he stares at you. Then, the door's opened, you turn around and saw Doctor Kang along with a nurse entered. His hands were in his pockets while the nurse was pushing a wheelchair. He then told you both it's time for the surgery. You nodded and let the nurse helps Jaehun. Getting to his feet, he ignored the dizziness and nausea as he made his way to the wheelchair. Safely seated, you followed them behind.
"Noona," Jaehun whispers as he lays on the bed and you bend down. "Yes?"
He smiles before he speaks softly. "I love you." You smile and nodded. "I love you too."
"Alright, the anesthesiologist is here, we should begin now." Doctor Kang said, patting your shoulder.
You nodded before stepping aside, letting the anesthesiologist preparing general anesthesia which is putting Jaehun to sleep. You put on your gloves and mask, taking a deep breath before facing him again, seeing all the machines hooked up to him. You swallow hard, this is it, the moment of truth. Then again, Doctor Kang patted your back, guiding you to walk towards him. He adjusted the bright surgical light straight onto the right spot of Jaehun's head.
"I will save you from the dead flower theory." You whispered.
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rkived · 3 years
Text
━ CHASING PAVEMENTS 04 │ JJK
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↳ PAIRING: dad!jk/married!jk/bff!jk x reader 
↳ GENRE/TAGS: f2l, angst, unrequited feelings, cheating, future smut
↳ WARNINGS: (for this chapter) angst as per usual what’s new, jk is sad, reader is sad, sunhi is sad, everyone’s just SAD
↳ RATING: (for this chapter) PG
↳ WORD COUNT: 4k 
↳ SYNOPSIS: Jungkook’s been feeling a little weird lately. Maybe it’s got something to do with his crumbling marriage and the way you seem to care for his daughter more than his own wife.
↳ A/N: ehem let’s pretend like i didn’t ghost this story for like half a year aha i’ve written more than this for cp but i decided to just divide it and leave the juicy stuff for the last chapter !! sorry for making u wait so long </3 anyway hope u enjoy still n i’ll see u in a couple months for the final chapter of cp!! (i’m jking…..or am i?)
01 02 03 04 05 (coming soon)
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Minji thinks you’re starting to get better. 
Well, she hopes you are because it’s been two months since you broke the news on her and anyone would think that’d it be long forgotten by now. She tries to stop as often as she can to check up on you, even though you assure her that you’re fine and that a simple text would suffice instead of having her come over every day in between. 
Which is why she’s unsure if giving you the invitation Jungkook had handed her about two weeks ago was a good idea, considering that it’s been a few days since you had last even mentioned him to her like you usually did before. In fact, today you look like you’re at peace for the very first time.
‘‘I did yoga!’’ You explain when she mentions that you look different, ‘‘I still can’t face going back to Namjoon’s class, but I remember a ton of positions he taught us!’’ 
Minji has to force herself to smile, her hand lingers inside the purse she’s carrying as her fingers fiddle with the cardstock paper waiting patiently to be handed. 
‘‘And then I stopped for some yogurt at the place down the─’’
‘‘I need to give this to you,’’ Minji stops your ramble and you’re taken aback by how urgent her voice sounds, very unlike her. ‘‘I promised I’d get this to you, so…’’ 
You’re about to ask her what she’s on about when she abruptly hands what you could make out to be a colorful piece of paper. Your eyebrows furrowed at the sight, completely confused until it suddenly hit you what it is that your friend’s talking about.
‘‘How did you─?’’ 
Minji gives you half a smile and shakes her hand so you can take the card instead of just staring at it, ‘‘Just─take it.’’
Your hand reaches out to grab it from her and your eyes quickly focus on the unicorn and sparkles themed birthday invite. It reads that it’s Sunhi’s birthday and that you are invited! You recognize the handwriting that filled the party’s information details, you always thought he had really nice penmanship. 
‘‘I think you should go,’’ Minji’s voice sounds like she’s faraway, but she’s just a few feet away from you, ‘‘for Sunhi.’’ 
You’re still staring at the invitation, memorizing every single detail. There’s so many unicorns, when did she start liking the mythical creature? She had never mentioned a liking towards them to you ever. You assume it must’ve happened during these few months of your absence.
How many moments have you missed? How many unanswered questions must Sunhi have by now? How many new toys has she had to wait to show you? How many kindergarten stories has she been saving to tell you? 
You’ve been counting. Sixty days have passed since you last saw Sunhi. It’s been seven Fridays since you last had her in your arms. 
Sixty days and seven Fridays since you kissed Jungkook. Fifty-nine days since you blocked him. 
Minji is still waiting for any sort of reaction from you. You’re stoically analyzing the piece of paper and she wonders what is it that you’re thinking or feeling. Is it good, bad or all in one? Whatever it is, her small deed is done. 
‘‘Y/N?’’ She calls out, you slowly nod and take your eyes from the invitation from the first time since she gave it to you. ‘‘Do you mind if I go? I have some stuff to─’’
A small gasp escapes your lips, ‘‘Yes Minji, of course!’’ Your friend smiles slightly and you proceed to escort her out your apartment. She actually doesn’t have anything to do, but she thinks it’s best if you get some space to take everything in. 
Minji notices how you’re still holding on to the birthday invite and she has to suppress a chuckle because she knows you’re most likely doing this absentmindedly. 
Before you’re able to thank her for coming, she stops you to say one last thing. ‘‘If you don’t want to go, then don’t,’’ she begins and your eyebrows raise at your friend’s comment. ‘‘Whatever it is that you decide on doing, I’ll support you either way,’’ Minji offers you a genuine smile and you can’t help but hug her tightly.
You’re alone again. Loneliness has come in waves as of lately. You’ve lived alone for years now, you’re used to being the only person present in your apartment ─ but that fact hasn’t felt more obvious than since you shunned Jungkook out. 
Good days eventually turn sour. The times where it seems like you can go on about your life without thinking about him and what he might be up to quickly change because your mind makes you feel bad about feeling good. 
Why did you cut him off knowing his daughter idolizes you like no other? Why did you selfishly decide to block him when you could’ve just talked it out? Why didn’t you stop him that night if you knew things would change between you two? Why did you let him kiss you knowing it was going to hurt in the end?
You know Sunhi’s fourth birthday is coming up. It’s one of those dates you can’t simply forget, it comes naturally to you. You had settled with the idea that you weren’t going to be invited this time around, it would’ve been okay since you think it’s what you deserve anyway. If Jungkook had taken you off the guest list, he was in his total right to do so. 
You want to be mad at him right now.
Why would he invite you? Why couldn’t he just leave things the way they were? You wish you were angry, but you’re not. You feel slightly comforted with the fact that he had decided to include you even with everything that went down. In fact, not inviting you would’ve been selfish knowing that Sunhi must want you there. 
And if the invitation wasn’t enough of a sign that you should go, two days ago you got an email that the gift you had preordered for Sunhi some time ago was on its way to your place. Just in time for her birthday party. 
That’s life for you. 
You’re quick to remind yourself of Minji’s last words to you. You’re not obligated to go and if you don’t want to, then you don’t have to. But you’d be lying if you said that because you really want to go, but there’s still some things that are holding you back. Your brain starts breaking down the pros and cons of going. 
The pros: You’d get to see Sunhi again, who you missed terribly and a tiny part of you was wishing that she didn’t hate you for suddenly leaving. It’s too much to ask for, but you do hope that Jungkook had come up with something instead of telling her upfront that you had left. 
The cons: You’d have to see Jungkook. Having to face the awkwardness of knowing you had blocked his number, prohibiting him from contacting you and discussing what happened like adults would do. 
Oh, and you’d see Jiwoo too and pretend like you didn’t have any romantic feelings for her husband. 
Whatever decision it is, you’d only have two days to decide.
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Jungkook smiled warmly as he looked at Sunhi twirling in her green and purple dress in front of the long length mirror in his bedroom. Ever since he got the garment in the mail, he had to hide it from her curious hands because if it were up to her she’d be wearing it day and night. 
‘‘Daddy, I look so cute!’’ Sunhi said with an excited tone, hopping in her place. The tull of her skirt followed her movements, making the glittery details sparkle brightly caused by the natural sunlight slipping through the curtain cracks. 
He chuckled, ‘‘You do, Pumpkin, but you need to settle down.’’ Jungkook placed his hands on her tiny shoulders, making his daughter’s bouncing cease. ‘‘You gotta be fully energized for the party, alright?’’ She nodded quickly, but he could still feel the excitement radiate from her. 
‘‘Gramma will do my braid, daddy.’’ Sunhi let him know once she noticed her father take a brush in his hand. The little girl much rather have her hair tangled in knots than having him attempt to do any sort of hairstyles on her. 
Jungkook pouts, but nods understanding. He’s thankful that his parents had made the trip from Busan this year. He knows his mother knew he would have a hard time setting everything up by himself this time around. His parents would normally miss Sunhi’s parties due to the distance, but he’d make it up to them by visiting the following weekend and doing a smaller gathering at their house instead. 
Things feel different. One could say that this time, everything is exactly where it should be. Sunhi’s growing older, his parents are here and not far away like usual, Jiwoo’s no longer in the picture, he’s picking back up the things that used to make him happy. There’s just a missing piece that doesn’t allow him to declare the puzzle’s finished.
And his daughter hasn’t really been helpful in allowing him to forget about it either. 
‘‘Daddy, is Auntie Y/N going to come?’’ She asked for what seemed the thousandth time that week alone. The younger girl only wanted to make sure you’re coming even though her father had reassured her that you might be making an appearance. 
Jungkook hummed, pursing his lips together, ‘‘Well, I don’t know if Auntie Y/N will manage to catch her flight in time for your party, but hopefully she’ll come,’’ he painfully lied and Sunhi nodded with a pout, she was hoping she’d get a different answer this time around, but still settles with her father’s explanation. 
Ever since you left, it had been part of her daily routine to ask about you and your whereabouts. Jungkook hated lying to his daughter, but he knew that even if he were to explain the ending of your friendship, she wouldn’t be able to understand. He had foolishly hoped that after telling her, repeatedly, that you had been out of the country because of your job, Sunhi would get the clue that you showing up at her birthday party was very unlikely. 
He can’t blame her because he’s also been hoping that you’ll show up for whatever reason. Jungkook’s aware that Minji had made no promises of you attending, but that little bit of faith he still had, clung onto you tightly. 
He’s let go of so many things recently, but he refuses to add you to that painful list. 
‘‘I miss Auntie Y/N,’’ Sunhi mumbled to herself, but Jungkook heard her clearly and his heart shattered at the longing in his daughter’s voice.
That’s why he’s relieved that she’s now running around the yard with her friends from the kindergarten she attends, screaming in glee as they all chase each other around the grass. The PinkFong playlist he had put together earlier that week has been a hit with the children, who danced and sang along to the lyrics; although some parents might’ve gotten tired of hearing the infantile music after a while. Jungkook himself is part of the people who much rather listen to something else, but it’s worth it if it means he catches Sunhi humming along to the tunes every once in a while. 
Having to entertain the parents has taken his mind off of knowing you’re not there. The party started two hours ago and you’re never late for anything, especially his daughter’s birthday celebrations. He’s settling with the idea that you’re no longer coming while he dabbles in serving food and refilling drinks, all the while having to make conversation with the parents of the invited kids. 
He can feel just how bad they feel for him, the word’s gotten around the PTA committee that he’s in the process of divorcing while taking full custody of his daughter.
‘‘Jungkook, how are you doing?’’ One of the invited moms asked him with a tactful tone, accompanied by a gentle smile that made him feel like a child for a mere moment. With a smile that could put anyone’s worries at ease, Jungkook assured her ─and the rest of the worrying mothers─ that he was doing just fine. 
It’s Sunhi’s day, it’s her party, a few more hours and you can cry all about it when she’s sleeping, had become his mantra as the party goes on.
‘‘What’s with the long face?’’ His mother suddenly asks him after he finishes placing the candles on Sunhi’s unicorn themed cake. 
Jungkook furrows his brows, ‘‘The unicorn’s face looks pretty alright to me,’’ he comments looking at the fondant shaped mythical creature at the top of the cake. 
Mrs. Jeon rolls her eyes, shaking her head slightly at his son’s obliviousness, ‘‘I’m talking about your long face. Is everything alright?’’ She asks in genuine concern, making him sigh as he scratches the back of his neck. ‘‘It’s not because of Jiwoo, right?’’ The woman cautiously asks, afraid the mention of her son’s ex partner might be too sensitive.
The news of the divorce had surprised his parents, but they weren’t completely heartbroken about it. They had known her for years, but it had never been a close relationship at that. His mother had made a couple of comments here and there before concerning his ex partner’s behavior, but were always overlooked by Jungkook.  
Jungkook’s eyebrows raise in surprise and he quickly shakes his head no, ‘‘I’m fine, mom. I’m just kinda tired.’’ 
For someone who hates lying, he’s been doing it a lot recently. 
His mother doesn’t seem so sure about his answer, but decides not to interrogate him any further since she knows her son has been dealing with too much recently and she didn’t want to add her nagging to the list. 
Eventually the party guests all sing happy birthday to Sunhi as she sits behind her cake clapping alongside them, mumbling the famous song as she waits for everyone to finish so she can blow the four candles out and make a wish. She closes her eyes with force, putting her hands together as the guests watch her silently mouth words out. 
‘‘What did you wish for, Sunhi?’’ One of the kids excitedly asks her, fingers curling around her arm as he waits for her to answer. 
Sunhi hmphs and turns her face away from him, ‘‘If I say it out loud it won’t come true!’’ 
Jungkook can only hope his daughter had asked for something he’s able to buy. The newest Barbie doll, a trip to the zoo, that pretty tutu she saw at the store. Anything that is at arm’s reach from him to give her. But Jungkook knows his daughter all too well, those things don’t really matter to her right now. 
Sunhi’s wish is something he can’t obtain ─ someone that’s no longer a call away from him. His daughter doesn’t know, but he’s wished for the same thing too. 
You to come back. 
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The small pieces of confetti on the ground, paper decorations pasted on the wall and hanging from the ceiling of the house are enough to give away that a party had happened the day before, and that someone had been too tired by the end of it to even attempt to clean up. 
Even the thought of having to deal with all of the mess that his living room currently looks like is already making Jungkook regret not accepting his mother’s willingness to help after the party had ended yesterday, assuring her that she had done enough that day and that it was only fair he took care of the cleaning. 
Sunhi’s birthday had gone smoothly for the most part.
And as Jungkook scrolls through his phone’s gallery, smiling warmly at the small clips he managed to capture of his gleeful daughter running around the yard with her friends and the multitude of pictures his mother took of her blowing the candles of the cake out, granted, majority of them blurry, he is reminded that, although the party had been a success, the aftermath hadn’t been as pretty.
The party was over when he started hearing the first goodbyes and thankful comments of the parents for inviting them over, wishing Sunhi a final happy birthday before they took their sleepy kids in their arms. He had hoped his daughter would be drained too, despite the amount of sugar she had a few hours before. 
‘‘Auntie Y/N didn’t come.’’ Sunhi had stated, a pout on her trembling lips as she looked up at her tired father. ‘‘Why didn’t she come?’’ She asked in genuine curiosity as her eyes started glossing with tears.
Jungkook sighed, ‘‘Pumpkin, I told you she’s not in town. I’m sorry she─’’ It didn’t matter what excuse he had given her, the waterworks had begun. He hadn’t seen his daughter cry like that in a long time and for a moment, he didn’t know what to do to get her to stop. 
Even if he tried to coax her with distractions, like the number of gifts she had received from the guests or telling her he’d let her have another slice of cake if she stopped crying. He knew that what his daughter wanted wasn’t toys or food. She wanted you. And as much as Jungkook wants you just as much, he’s lost on ways to make you come back. 
Sunhi cried for what seemed like hours, his parents had even tried to cheer the little girl up by promising to take her to their house the very next morning for the rest of the weekend, to which she merely nodded as she fell asleep from exhaustion on her father’s chest. 
He envied her as he remained awake for most of the night, tears streaming down his face as guilt ate him away for his daughter’s heartbreak. 
It’s his fault after all. 
Jungkook isn’t upset you didn’t show up, you didn’t have to. Not even Sunhi could make you come back. Selfishly kissing you that night had changed the course of your relationship forever and that meant that his daughter would have to pay for his wrongdoings. 
With the absence of Sunhi, he’s reminded of just how big his house feels when he’s by himself. Ever since Jiwoo moved out, the only company he’s had is that of his daughter and it’s more than enough. With her dancing around the hallways and singing songs to the top of her lungs, Jungkook doesn’t feel as lonely.
He must’ve missed the knocking at the door or the ringing doorbell ─if there even was one─ because of the earphones he had on while he swept the confetti paper scattered on the hardwood floor of his home because by the time he opens his door to get a run around the neighborhood, he notices there’s a gift placed in his front doorstep. 
Jungkook’s brows furrow with confusion, unsure of why it was there in the first place. He’s sure Sunhi had opened all of her gifts last night, lazily and not very excited about them after her big cry, but she had made sure to leave them all unwrapped.
The medium-sized box is wrapped with a white and pink polka-dot paper, a cute golden ribbon placed right in the middle of it. Jungkook picks it up, bringing it closer for better inspection. Maybe it was from one of the kids that couldn’t make it? Although, they could’ve just gave it to Sunhi when they saw her at school again.
His eyes widen and his heartbeat races up when he reads the sticker tag with the name of the person responsible for the gift. 
‘‘To: Sunhi ♡
From: Auntie Y/N’’
His eyes scan the tag over and over again, just to make sure he’s reading the name correctly. When he manages to take his attention away from it, he looks around the street in hopes that he’d find you. 
How long has this been out here? Could he have caught a glimpse of you had he been less distracted? 
Although it feels wrong to open his daughter’s gift without her consent, he feels the urgent need to peek at what’s inside. His mind even tries to reason with himself, telling him it’s probably only a doll or a clothing item, like the other gifts Sunhi had received from the birthday guests yesterday. 
With a click of his tongue, he forgoes doing the right thing and tells himself that he’ll just wrap the gift again before Sunhi comes back from his parent’s house. 
The cute wrapping paper is thrown over his shoulder carelessly as he quickly unveils a white cardboard box, tilting his head slightly at what could possibly be inside. When he takes the top off, a soft gasp escapes his lips. 
A pink and white digital camera aimed for children lies inside, there’s decorative paper placed around it and a note inside. Jungkook swallows the lump in his throat, taking it delicately in his hand as he reads the words written in the familiar handwriting that hasn’t changed from all those years back in college. 
‘‘Happy 4th birthday, Sunhi! Since you’re growing older, I wanted to gift you something different this year around. Your daddy loves taking videos and I thought you should start doing it too, maybe he’ll pick his camera back up again haha. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to see you blow your candles out, I hope all your wishes come true! I love you and miss you so much, 
-Auntie Y/N’’
Jungkook blinks back the tears that had formed in the corners of his eyes. He places the note back inside the box and breathes in deeply, exhaling slowly as he stares at the gift. No one but you could come up with an idea like this. It hurts him, but he smiles slightly at your thoughtfulness. 
A different feeling arises inside him as he holds the gift in his hand, looking at it like this is the sign he had been sent from above. The last thread of his string of faith. He doesn’t even think twice, placing the gift gently inside and rushing to step outside to close the door. 
He’ll go on that run, just not around his neighborhood. 
As he runs past rows of houses and stores, the voice inside his head tries to tell him that he should think rationally. There’s a reason why you didn’t show up yesterday and another for you dropping the gift in front of his house without a sound. You don’t want to see him and yet he’s running straight towards you even if he knows this is hopeless. 
He manages to shut that voice off as he maintains his rapid pace, rushing past the rows of buildings he’s familiar with and the street names he’s memorized by now. It all feels so different when he’s not behind the wheel, he usually always has to depend on his GPS to help him reach places. Your address, though, is one he proudly knows by heart. 
As Jungkook stands outside your apartment building, he stares at it with the sound of his heart drumming inside his ears. Catching his breath, he’s reminded of the many times these past few months he’s been here, with Sunhi fast asleep in her car seat at the back. 
He always pictured going up, knocking at your door, and begging for forgiveness, all for you to turn him down in the end with a gut-wrenching I don’t want you in my life anymore and a door closing on his face. That’s why he always drove away, deciding that uncertainty is better than hearing you reject him.
This time, though, nervous and unsure as he usually is when he comes here, Jungkook breathes in deep and ignores the familiar knot formed inside his stomach. 
He decides that uncertainty isn’t a feeling he wishes upon you.
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oceans-swim · 2 years
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2021 writing self-evaluation!!!
tagged by the lovely @k1llingkind ty bestie but this was a jumpscare in my email inbox<3
1. number of stories posted to ao3
24! and i have orphaned everything on my ao3 before that haklsfd
2. word count posted for the year
68819!!!! holy shit!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
3. fandoms I wrote for
dsmp in the beginning, then third life/last life, and hermitcraft
4. pairings
hmm. flower husbands to etho and bdubs and skizz and tango
5. story with the most kudos/bookmarks/comments
aha. first mcyt fic i ever wrote. i regret it immensely thumbsup but it also has over 10k hits so i can't orphan it
6. work i’m most proud of (and why)
probably my skydiver au! or space au :D
7. work i’m least proud of (and why)
first mcyt fic again! we do not speak of it. also most of my early 2020 stuff. shh.
8. share or describe a favourite review you’ve received
sadie comments. every @infinitelysordinary comment Ever
9. a time when writing was really, really hard
hmm. it's always been hard, really? but especially as the year neared its end. really felt like i had to put Quality stuff out there
10. a scene or character that you wrote that surprised you
hmmm. last life tango fic, probably, i didn't expect to get as invested in it as i did
11. a favourite excerpt of your writing
probably from my cw!iskall and doc fic
The horror of that thought, the idea that the very structure of gravity and physics might fall apart within the hour, but even worse, they might lose a friend- it had their resolve hardening against those who were at fault. They swore to the wardens the trespassers were going to pay with something far more vital than blood.
Iskall was familiar with shattering. They felt it every time the world was tipped like an hourglass, sand cascading again and again, never quite the same. It was pure agony to feel the world outside their sanctuary be destroyed and remade whenever it fit the green god’s fancy.
Yet now their friend had gone through the similar wretchedness of the blasphemy of domains, and it was again the Weaver’s fault. Everything always seemed to trace back to him. The nature of a spiderweb, they supposed.
12. how did you grow as a writer this year?
so much. So Much. i think it had to happen with how much determination i put into it, and with the support of friends. shoutout to @lauriethetim bestie you are so cool and i appreciate you
13. how do you hope to grow next year?
in any way i can! here's hoping i write out my fae au and post it in full, really looking forward to that
14. who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc)?
oh. haha. i don't think i can tag laurie again. probably @lunarblazes !! beloved you're so cool and inspiring any day. also @onthevirgeofdestruction :D huge inspo, always has been <3333
15. anything from your real life show up in your writing this year
points at ventfics. looks away. also hmm maybe i'm using some of my inspiration from upstate ny for fae au :D
16. any new wisdom you can share with other writers
never give up! of course it's okay to take a break for a bit, you should always take breaks, with art too, but never vow to never try again! i promise, you got this bestie. your work is far better than you know
17. any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year
FAE AU !!!!!! huge excite also space au part three hopefully
18. tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read
@crash-hawk heyyy i think your responses to this would be Cool
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Hello friend. I agree that the vibes are Not Good today because it is January and it is Monday but here is a pocket hedgehog to hopefully make things a lil better. ❤️😘
Two other things:
1. I do think something went wonky with the tags on With A Twist Part 2 cause I only saw it on your feed just now. But I will be reblogging both parts very soon as I catch up from things I missed over the weekend. ❤️
2. I saw in that tag game going around that your most recent tv series was Top Gear, so I have to ask - the UK or the US version? Cause I am a huge fan of the UK Top Gear (during the Clarkson/Hammond/May era, I haven’t watched it since they left. And are they problematic assholes? Yes, but ughhh I enjoy them so much. 🙈).
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Les!!! I love my pocket hedgehog and will cherish her forever. 🥰 Did you get home ok? How is your knee?
Aha, mystery solved!! Thank you for letting me know, I was definitely scratching my head a bit. No rush, I’m just glad you saw it ^_^
And yes! I’ve been rewatching some old Top Gear eps and specials with those three. Clarkson’s politics are Bad and I don’t love that at all, but I can’t help it, I have such a soft spot for this series. The blend of slickly produced show with gorgeous visuals and informative, entertaining British voices combined with the 8 year old glee of smashing things is just too good!!
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parcy-anda · 3 years
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I adore the idea of Ruv & Sarv together both platonically and romantically,  and that goes double for Whitty & Carol, but I’m also a piece-of-trash multi-shipper with a strong lean towards fluff.
Heads up: no ideas are my own — the inspiration came from  this. >v<; I just wanted to shake off some dust and enjoy what I thought was a sweet concept.
My silly rambles are below the cut if you’re interested, but I’m super awkward and will go hide now.
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I was a bit conflicted about posting art of these two, as from what I’ve read, drama following the mods ruined these guys+ for their respective creators but I keep up on some tags out of curiosity, and seeing the post linked above made me want to try something that condensed most of their ideas. I'm a sucker for anything soft and wholesome.
While I did visual research for the characters, dinghies and an intentional + aesthetically-appropriate design for Ruv based on a few species of cold-water [comb] jellies, I had no idea/was-too-stubborn-to-further-research how to draw [jellyfish] sirens or how to handle the lighting effects for a pic like this — and it shows.
Finally: GEEBUS, I don’t know if this is even worth sharing, but as prep, I did sketch a rough concept of siren!Ruv based on visual research. I have no idea if I’ll try to polish this concept, as while Jellies are often inherently frilly, it seems painfully out-of-place for him. @v@
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Update: I wrote a silly ficlet to follow up this pic. I’ll hide it here, rather than put it on display in a fresh post. =v=; Apologies for address-repetition, rambling, and the obliviousness trope but if anyone actually likes it, sweetness.
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Whitty kept his eyes on the stars, of which there was no shortage out here. Beyond the light, passing swells, he'd heard the gentle splashing against the boat, and felt something slippery and mitten-like wrap around his shoe. His foot twitched, but he didn't pull away. He knew who it was; after, all, they'd agreed to meet here... in this general area. The open ocean provided few landmarks, but they'd settled on a few miles northeast of the dock Whitty always started from.
It was still really, really strange. He was getting better about trusting the siren, but jellyfish are jellyfish, and he was in no hurry to be stung, accidentally or otherwise. Without moving, he chanced a glimpse to the other end of the boat — Ruv was looking down at something. The sentient bomb heard a gravelly shift — oh... more "treasures".
Lately, the gelatinous merman had been in the odd habit of bringing stones and coral fragments with him, and this time, he'd brought a bucketful. Whitty stifled a hissing chuckle at what he could now tell was bright green plastic. Ruv must have taken some child's beach toy from somewhere. The only thing he didn't really get was why.
Ruv wasn't much of a talker, and was stone-faced as they came. All the bomb-man could tell was that the siren seemed to bring these things for him... and the slight glow of his bioluminescence flared every time Whitty looked at him or said so much as a word. And today, he was ALIGHT. Whitty tensed as he felt Ruv squeeze his shoe tighter... was this in his head, or did the siren look nervous?
Carefully, Ruv lifted the bucket out of the water completely, over the edge and placed it squarely on the floor of the dinghy by Whitty's outstretched leg... and stared. At Whitty. In the glowing, ember-y eyes. Inky drops of "sweat" seeped through the sphere of his head and dripped back down to the fuse... an anxious laugh tumbled between his teeth set in a forced smile.
"Thanks, man." He finally managed to say, glancing briefly at the bucket before looking back at Ruv, who hadn't moved, save for the lightest lapping  against the underside of the boat, to keep his balance and place. Whitty usually didn't mind the stargazing, but then, it had never been this quiet or... intensely awkward. You're making it weird, man. Whitty thought to himself worriedly, but gave it a few seconds.
Things did not get better. Silent as before, Ruv's behaviour drastically shifted once more. The glow faded, he sank out of Whitty's view, and the grip on his shoe loosened before disappearing completely. Just slightly alarmed, Whitty planted most of his weight in the middle of the small boat, before stretching his neck to look out over the edge — the siren was still there, face half-submerged and, by the angle of the lone, now-barely luminous eye, not quite facing the boat. With just a crescent moon to light the seascape, Whitty was relieved to see anything... if the glow had wholly vanished, he would have been impossible to distinguish from the water.
"... what did I do, now?" Whitty sighed, trying not to sound too annoyed. He was certainly intrigued by the merman, he wouldn't keep coming back to visit otherwise. They could probably be really good friends if Ruv would actually communicate. But he didn't. He always kept Whitty wondering, and the bomb hated that. He hated not knowing what to expect.
When Ruv stayed silent and with his back to the dinghy, Whitty huffed quietly and turned his attention to the bucket. It was quite the assortment, this time. Some where rough, some smooth, some glossy, some blue, some... very, very round. He picked up that oddball, and his eyes widened as he realized what it was. It was a pearl, a black one, and a pretty good size.
"Okay, w-why? Why do you keep bringing me stuff like this?" He sputtered, holding up the pearl and bucket. He'd tried asking questions before, but seldom got normal or satisfactory answers. He hoped this time would be different.
He got a reaction, at least: he caught the eye angling slightly back toward him, and a flicker of light returning. He could have sworn he saw the mouth twitch, though mostly into a frown. When Ruv's hands weighed delicately on the top of the stern, Whitty sat back in an effort to keep the boat level. Taking in what body language he could, Whitty saw now, just how tired Ruv appeared to be, as if it was all he could do to keep his one eye open. With a sense of urgency, Whitty dragged himself back to reality, gesturing emphatically as he asked again: "Why? What's this for? Use your words, man."
Immediately, Ruv's eye narrowed and his slight frown deepened, prompting a small flinch from the bomb. Whitty was fully expecting to be stung, and braced himself for it, eyes closed. He nearly jumped out of his skin when instead, he heard a THUD against the dinghy's edge. Then again, and again. Opening his eyes, he saw Ruv repeatedly, quite deliberately, throwing his forehead into the side of the boat. Apparently, he was frustrated, too.
Whitty was about to tell the siren to cut it out when it suddenly stopped. Ruv's head was now set still against the stern, shoulders rising, then falling in a quiet sigh, before he rested his chin on the rim between his hands. The face Whitty took for 'tired' before now simply looked defeated. The bomb-headed young man refrained from saying anything, realizing words were only flustering the merman, but he knew Ruv could talk. They'd talked before... mostly Ruv just said he wasn't going to sting Whitty, but still, Ruv had spoken. There was no point in acting like he couldn't.
So lost was he in his thoughts, he'd hardly noticed himself nearing the boat's edge. For a moment, he thought he'd leaned in on his own, as if to listen closely for an answer, but... no. The movement had been completely subconscious. Oh, f- this isn't some legit-siren shit Ruv's pulling, right? Probably not, hopefully not. I mean, I'm definitely in control of my thoughts. He was snapped out of those thoughts by another sigh from Ruv, even though he had yet to say a word.
Silently, Ruv took the pearl and held it up between his and Whitty's faces — he should get that, right? Looking around it, Whitty's face proved puzzled still. Agitated, Ruv snatched a piece of volcanic glass he'd found from the bucket, placing it over Whitty's hand and wrapping his own over both, before expectantly looking back up to his land-dwelling friend's face. That nervous smile was back, and Whitty had to laugh off the awkwardness while he searched for the words.
"Aha...ha... this stuff looks... kind of like me?" He asked more than said, glancing a few times between the contents of the bucket and Ruv — there were a number of articles reminiscent of his clothing and skin's colors, not to mention textures. Whitty's heart spasmed violently at the way Ruv's face quite literally lit up. Reluctantly, he spun his free hand in a wheeling motion, continuing, "... which means...?" The glow flickered, but remained and Whitty thought he saw Ruv's eye twitch. The bomb grimaced before trying to intuit the meaning behind this, "Yes, please! Spell it out!" It was weird as hell, but he needed to know what it meant, and it was high time Ruv just gave him a straight answer.
Mista-BIG MISTAKE. — was the only coherent thought Whitty managed, as for a moment, all his senses could register was a splash and icy water enveloping him face-first. He'd been hauled from the boat and into the dark, frigid ocean. On instinct, he struggled, panicked against the feeling of cold seeping into him, and he gasped the second he felt air on his face. He took a second to process what was happening now:
He was breathing, his head was back above water... he was... not being strangled, even though it felt terrifyingly similar. Ruv was thoroughly wrapped around him, his face pressed into the bomb's neck and... nuzzling? It made Whitty squirm at first, it really was a bit of a disturbing sensation, but then suddenly, he stiffened and warmed all over as a blush spilled across his face and the realization dawned on him. If the siren hadn't been keeping him afloat, he'd have sunk for lack of movement. He was frozen in an entirely different sense now.
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