#I dunno why especially hips are just so difficult for me to draw without A singular extra line of guidance but it makes all the difference!

[sysig]

Yes, the fluff is far preferable (Patreon)

[undermattsun-archive]

taste

(skate rat) kawanishi taichi x fem!reader | w.c 3.5k

a/n: SURPRISE it’s a sequel to mouth <3 my original skate rat sin i suppose, and also like my first real fic/drab for the fandom. god bless. as always thank u to @bakatenshii​ + @sugardaddykenma​ for putting up with me ranting about this fic (and also putting up with me since mouth)

big big thanku to #1 wife @pomsuki​ for reading this for me and yelling at me to finish this damn thing <3

18+ university age | pls read ALL warnings

warnings: drugs, public sex, dub/noncon exhibitionism, degredation, humiliation, dubcon, blood, slight injury (it’s a bloody nose), toxic behavior, misogynistic energy? vibes? you’ll know when u see it honestly

reading mouth isn’t necessary but it is appreciated! and pls check out melt + nightingale syndrome for they exist in the same skate rat universe (+ they’re delicious fics) also the people who wrote em r BIG SEXY

There were more than enough reasons to quit Kunimi Akira. He never texts back, he doesn’t go to class, he’s fucked a few of your friends and he couldn’t commit if you paid him. He was simply a waste of time, it was like every second spent with him was another mark ticked off a test, a percentile lowering on your next paper.

But chucking Kunimi would be like trying to sort grains of rice, difficult and damn near impossible. He always knew how to draw you back in and he enjoyed the mind games a lot more than his bored expression would let on. 

Despite the impossibility of quitting him you had to at least try, so you swore up and down that hooking up with him at Oikawa’s party some odd months ago was truly the last of it, that you were done with him and all of his irritating skate rat friends.

Which begs the question of how you ended up at the little concrete amphitheater on campus, sandwiched between Hanamaki and Matsukawa on one of the steps, a blunt being passed between the two of them without so much as a second glance towards you.

“Say, when’s the last time you and Kunimi had fun?” Makki’s grin is nothing short of lascivious, a slimy feeling weighs on your tongue as you shrug off a shudder.

“Say, was that ever any of your business?” You retort, snatching the blunt from his lips bringing it to your own and inhaling deeply, revelling at the warmth creeping down your throat and filling your chest. 

“Quit it Makki, she’s not gonna fuck you. Kunimi got her ‘round his little finger,” Mattsun coos, taking back the blunt, “besides, heard she’s a fuckin ice queen in the sack. Boooring.”

A sharp inhale keeps you grounded, the sound of Iwaizumi’s board slamming back down onto the pavement reminding you where you are, who you’re with. You’re not going to fall for Mattsun’s little games too.

“Tch.” Daggers prick at your lips, but you bite your tongue knowing that fueling the fire will earn you nothing but a headache. It’s not like you’re waiting for anything, or anyone, stealing a few more hits and leaving would be the best option.

“Oh? Nothing to say? But I heard your mouth was your only redeeming quality.” You focus your gaze on Iwaizumi telling Oikawa to stay out of his way, trying not to let your growing discomfort scare you away. The stubborn refusal of letting Mattsun’s words win only letting a dull ache grow at the base of your skull, prickling further when he and Makki let out low mocking laughs.

“Hey fucknuts!” Your head whips over to see a blur of crimson race by, followed gradually by a few other familiar faces you’ve seen around at parties and on campus.

“God, not these assholes.” Makki laughs as Oikawa makes faces at one of the newcomers. Your eyes drag across the unfolding scene as the number of rowdy idiots grows. You swallow hard, knowing that staying any longer would only cause your headache to further bloom.

“That’s my cue to leave.” You sigh, it’s not like you were waiting for Kunimi in the first place. You weren’t. You were just...killing time.

“Leaving?” Your head tips back to look up at the source of the question, Kawanishi Taichi, of course. 

“Yeah, dunno why I’m here in the first place.” You brush off his quirked brow and shove Mattsun hard with your shoulder as you stand up. With a curt nod, you smooth a hand over your jeans, turning on your heel to brush past Kawanishi, ignoring the low whistle that falls from his lips. You make it a good distance down the walkway before the sound of crunching footsteps behind you prickles at your ears as you ready yourself to tell whoever it is to get lost. 

“Want a ride?” You let out a huff as you look over your shoulder to see Kawanishi standing so nonchalantly, hands tucked into his pockets as he chews on a toothpick.

“Shouldn’t you be skating around with your little boyfriends?” The comment slips out, followed by your tongue sliding over your bottom lip as if it’ll soften the sharpness of your tone. 

“Nah, just droppin 'em off,” his eyes rake up and down your figure as you turn to face him, “where’s yours?”

“My what?”

“Your little boyfriend. You were waiting there like a lost puppy for him.” A protest rises in your chest, curbing it when you see a flash of something akin to flirtatious teasing in his normally passive eyes. 

“I... I don’t have one.” The words are slathered in honey, punctuated with a flutter of your lashes as Kawanishi takes another step forward. 

If Kunimi likes playing all those stupid games, why not play a few of your own?

“Is that so?” His head tilts slightly, you feign shyness, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you smile sweetly at him, confirming your statement with a nod of your head. “My car’s just over in the parking lot.” He tips his head in the direction of the closest lot, before turning to start walking. Without hesitation you easily fall into step beside him, trying to dampen your rising nerves.

Despite the dumb little hookups peppering your dating history, you had only gone so far with most of them, Kunimi being one of the few —and the only one you crawled back to— that you had made the unfortunate pleasure of going all the way with. You keep pushing away at the thoughts of inexperience as Kawanishi approaches an old, beat up, black Corolla, the paint flaking off with dings and dents littering across the body, the impeccably shiny rims on the wheels making you snort. 

It was a rather famous car across campus, seeing it around with stupid skate rats crammed in there with the windows fogged with smoke was an almost daily occurrence, especially highlighted by how it’s tied to one too many stories of girls having varying encounters with Kawanishi –and sometimes one of his friends– in said car.

“Wanna smoke or skip to the real fun?” He never minced any words, always up front or just completely skipping out on the conversation. It always made him the best project partner in the odd classes you’ve shared over your uni years.

“I don’t like waiting.” The fuzziness nipping at your spine from the few hits you took earlier were just enough, not wanting to dull your senses completely during this encounter. The bluntness of your answer causes a smirk to play at Kawanishi’s lips as he opens the door to the back.

“Well then, ladies first.” He gestures to the gray cloth seats, you make a point to ignore the questionable stains littered across it as you slide in, trying to focus instead on figuring out the heady scent permeating through the car. Cheap cologne, cigarettes, weed and maybe stale beer, and something that was distinctly him. 

Your eyes are drawn to a stain on the roof that looks oddly similar to an eagle, the thought unfinished as Kawanishi practically dives in after you. The sound of the door slamming preempting hands roaming over your body and lips moving against your neck. 

“Kawa-”

“Just Taichi.” He clips as he works the buttons of your jeans, a coarse hand working against your spine as he unhooks your bra.

“Eager much?” You laugh as he pushes at your shirt and bra exposing pert nipples to cool air, simultaneously managing to work your jeans past your hips and down your thighs.

“You said no waiting.” With a chaste kiss to your lips he’s maneuvering you onto your stomach, raising your hips in the air, face shoved halfway between the seat and door.  You let out a huff as your hand braces itself against the door, while the other on the seat below you, trying to find some semblance of comfort in the cramped setting.

“Mhm.” It’s the best reply you can manage as he grinds his clothed cock against the cleft of your ass, already hard. You can only imagine how many women he’s had in this situation to award all six feet and three inches of himself the ability to move so successfully around in the cramped backseat. 

Nimble and worn fingers circle around your hip, dipping down to tease at dampening lace, eliciting a soft moan from you. You push back against him, delighting in the soft grunt he lets out as he curls himself over you to scrape his teeth over your nape. His fingers continue to run up and down against your clothed cunt, pressing at the growing slick spot marking your wanting hole.

“Excited huh?” He mumbles as he skims his tongue against the shell of your ear, you manage a low hum in reply as he slides his hands back up, tugging down the flimsy piece of clothing, exposing your needy cunt to hungry eyes. He wastes no time pressing his fingers against your twitching hole, causing you to wiggle your hips just enough to earn a low chuckle and send the message of just how much you want him, need him. 

Without any further hesitation he slips in a finger, your back arching with the realization his fingers are longer than Kunimi’s, chest burning at the fact you could even think of another man in this situation. As if he can sense your wandering thoughts Taichi works in another finger, another following quickly after. There’s no urgency in his movements, each twist and thrust of his fingers methodical, curling in just the right way, making sure to brush his thumb over your throbbing clit to send a stinging pleasure up your spine. 

You can’t deny the way he’s taking you apart so sweetly, the tightening deep in your belly achingly sweet, as he starts to thrust his fingers even deeper, tiny gasps and whines starting to grow louder and louder as you careen towards bliss. With a particularly rough curl of his fingers you feel yourself come undone completely, punctuated by a shameless moan.

The sound of knuckles tapping against the fogged glass pulls you out of your blissful haze, still acutely aware of the way Taichi has his fingers lazily twisting inside of you. 

“It’s open.” He tugs you back by the hips slightly as he retracts his fingers painfully slow, listening as he unzips his jeans. Your heart races as the passenger door opens, shifting uncomfortably to try to catch a glimpse of who’s slid into the car.

“Oh, so that’s where you went, Mattsun said you were hanging around.” Your blood runs cold, your state of undress tightening your chest as you become painfully aware of the situation you’re in. The passive tone of Kunimi’s voice nips at your skin, tears away at the search of mindless fun that you had tried to pursue with Taichi, filling your chest with raw embarrassment.

“What do you want?” The tear of a wrapper following the question, whatever protest you had silenced by a hand coming down to grip harshly at your ass.

“You have my grinder.” Kunimi slips into the passenger seat, the sound of the glove box popping open making your eyes squeeze shut. 

“Yeah well close the door at least.” Your eyes widen at Taichi’s statement, you didn’t want Kunimi to just close the door, you wanted him to leave.

“Whatever. Can I smoke in here?” It doesn’t sound like much of a question, more of a declaration with the ‘can’ and the question mark tacked on for decoration.

“I don’t care, do you?” You crane your head just enough to catch the blasé expression on Taichi’s face, a quirked brow directed more at your ass than you.

“Yeah sweetheart, care if I’m in here while you’re whoring yourself out?” Kunimi scoffs, the irritated tinge to his bored tone making you furrow your brows.

“Oh fuck you.” You start to rise on your elbows, only for Taichi’s hand to land between your shoulder blades, keeping you from moving any further. You let out a huff as Kunimi clicks his tongue in feigned disappointment.

“Sorry babe, it’s me who’s fucking you this time around, maybe Kunimi can get the next round.” Before you can even bother with a retort, Taichi drags the head of his cock against slick folds, teasing at your entrance. You let your head hang down, the click of a lighter grating on your nerves more than you would like to admit. 

“Please, fuck me, I want it so bad.” The whininess of your voice annoys even you, but if Kunimi wants to stick around and get on your nerves, then two could play that game. 

“Since you asked so nicely.” Just like before he slides in slowly, carefully, as if to make you memorize what each inch of him feels like splitting you apart so sweetly.

“Shit.” You exhale shakily as you try to adjust to him, it had been months since you last fucked anyone, since you last fucked the asshole sitting passenger.

He sets a leisurely pace, steady and infuriating. There’s a hand clamped down on your hip, fingers digging in painfully to keep you in place, to establish that he’s the one calling all the shots. You huff, still trying to buck your hips to meet his thrusts. There’s something in his actions that makes you feel greedy, desperate for so much more than he’s offering.

There’s no way around it, you’re completely at his mercy, left taking the shallow, slow thrusts that only makes the desperate ache deep in your cunt grow.

“Hook a finger or two in her mouth.” There’s a pause in Taichi’s motions, letting you finally take a deep breath of the thick weed laced air. “Don’t look at me funny, do it and see what happens.”

You hear a non-committal hum as those devilishly nimble fingers skim past your jaw, a whimper preceding his index pushing past your lips with a harsh tug at the corner of your mouth, the painful stretch of your cheek causing you to clench down on his length.

“Oh? You were right.”

“She’s already broken in,” Kunimi takes a long drag of the joint hanging in his fingers, “no point in holding back.” 

It’s as if a flip is switched in Taichi, the statement becoming an immediate challenge as he hooks in another finger beside the other, yanking harshly as the snap of his hips becomes almost painful. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the car, swirling with the heady smoke defiling the air. 

“W-Wait Taichi.” The words are garbled around his fingers, and you’re quickly dismissed as he snakes around his other hand to hook his middle and index on the other corner of your mouth, the stretch in your lips burning as he shifts from the quick paced thrusts to deep, hard strokes.

His only reply is to tug harshly on your mouth as pathetic whines and distored words spill from you. 

You can feel yourself start to shake almost violently, still reeling from your earlier orgasm and suffering at the hands of Taichi’s now vicious pace. Each thrust pushing you into madness, each tug of his fingers bringing you back. 

“Fuck, fuck.” He curls over you again, sloppily running his tongue up your nape. “You wanna cum?” 

“Mhmm,” you yelp at a particularly rough slam of his hips, “please.”

He grunts, moving a hand to grip at the back of your head while keeping his other hand planted on your hip, fingers biting into your hip. There’s no warning as he grinds into you, the hold on your hip finally relenting as he slides his digits back down to pinch at your throbbing clit, the bit of pressure sending you careening over the edge.

“T-Taichi.” Pleasure wracks through your body, your legs tremble violently as you try to move your hand on the door, shoulder aching from holding yourself in place. The second your hand moves, you give into the force of Taichi’s hand on the back of your head, forcing you to slam face first into the door, the impact making your nose sting, blood immediately starting to gush, running down your face and chin. 

You’re not sure if he doesn’t notice or doesn’t care as he continues his assault, the once careful, methodical thrusts turning desperate and depraved as he moves with reckless abandon. His teeth drag across your shoulder, before pulling out completely.

“Don’t need this.” You grip at your nose, trying to ignore the disgusting feeling of blood seeping onto your fingers, looking over your shoulder again to see Taichi pull off the condom. You can’t even protest with the way you’re bleeding profusely, pinching at your bridge at a poor attempt of stopping the bleeding.

“Stay still.” In one swift movement he’s plunging back into you, bottoming out immediately, a muffled yell falls from your lips, arching your back as he drives into you with just a few more hard thrusts you feel his seed spill inside you. 

For a moment you two stay suspended, the head of his cock nudging against your cervix, making you groan in a twisted sense of pleasure of pain. He pulls out painfully slow, delivering another harsh slap your ass as he sits back.

“Oh, sorry ‘bout your nose.” He helps you flip onto your back, swiping his thumb over the blood trickling onto your lip before shucking off his t-shirt and handing it to you. “Don’t have any tissues.” 

“So who’d you like playing fuck toy for better?” For a split second, somewhere between the back breaking orgasm and your nose being slammed into the door, you had blissfully forgotten that Kunimi was still in the car, but now that perfect illusion just had to be shattered.

“Must you be such a dick all the time?” You manage to pull your jeans back up, hissing at the stinging pain in your hips and lower back, ignoring the lewd feeling of Taichi’s cum starting to leak from your abused cunt. 

Beside you Taichi manages to tuck himself back into his pants, reaching under the driver's seat to yank out a hoodie reeking of weed and cigarettes.

“Maybe you two should just get together already.” Taichi lets out a low chuckle as he pulls on the hoodie, getting out of the backseat, slamming the door hard before throwing the driver’s door open. You don’t even bother trying to hook your bra back on as you pull your shirt down, letting yourself slump back down and lay across the backseat as you reach up to check if your nose is still bleeding.

“Like hell.” Kunimi twists around in the passenger seat, looking down at you with an amused smirk, offering the freshly rolled joint to you. “You look like shit. I said she was broken in, not to break her more.” He only gets a wry laugh from Taichi as he starts the car.

“Thanks, right back at you.” You sit up just enough, looking at Kunimi expectantly. He shakes his head before twisting the joint in his fingers and placing it between your lips, producing the lighter. Just as he’s about to hand it to you he brings his hand back a bit, grabbing your jaw with his other as he lights the joint. He picks up Taichi’s bloodied shirt, pouring water from a twisted plastic bottle onto it before passing it back to you.

“Cute, blew her back out and you’re doting on her.” You watch as Kunimi moves to sit back in his seat, not even bothering to spare you a second glance as he shrugs. You dab away at the drying blood on your face, ignoring a few of the splotches that landed on the joint.

“Guess I play favorites, drop us off at my place.” 

“Us?” You exhale after a long drag, narrowing your eyes at the back of Kunimi’s head as Taichi pulls out of the parking spot.

“What do I even get out of doing that?” You can’t help but nod in agreement of Taichi’s statement, feeling yourself growing annoyed at the way they seem to ignore your entire presence.

“You can fuck her again.” Kunimi offers and you almost drop the joint as your jaw falls open at the absolute nerve of the man. 

“Excuse me? I’m right here?” The way that neither of them even flinch at your statement, let alone acknowledge it makes you slump back into the seat, begrudgingly accepting the fact whatever you say isn’t worth shit to either of them.

“Hm.” It doesn’t sound like he’s actually considering the offer, but the quick look over his shoulder as he turns out of the parking lot sends a chill down your spine and your stomach to twist.

“Believe it or not, her mouth’s her one redeeming quality.” The two of them snicker, like two old pals sharing an inside joke.

“Shut the fuck up.” You’re brushed off once again as they toss back a few more comments before Taichi stops at a red light, looking over at Kunimi, then back at you and finally back towards the road.

“Yeah alright.”

[impossible-rat-babies]

first 20 lines meme

i got tagged by @coldshrugs tysm azia! tagging: @trvelyans, @zarneki, @rosykims, @forestcreatures, @starrypawz, @heartbrreak, @bitchesofostwick, @juniper-tree, @wayhavn, @pearlsandsteel​, and whomever else go for it !

The challenge is to list the first lines of your 20 latest fanfics. these’ll include wips too lol there’s some vague nsft stuff below the cut--nothing truly explicit in these though

1. prompt fill wip:

Rubble digging into Pollux’s shoulder blades, a heavy dead weight across his back pressing down on him. He winces, gritting his teeth and there’s just shallow breaths, ribs pressing painfully into the ground.

2. pollux finding out fic:

Mason curses as he breaks yet another cigarette and he tosses it into the trash, yanking out the old worn packaging for another one. Hands shaking, he takes a deep breath to steady himself and it works this time.

3. more shoe string french fry biting fic:

Pollux fishes another fry out from the little package of shoe strings, chewing slowly before he speaks: “You remember when I bit you?”

Ortega groans, shoulders hunching and the hood of the car once again protests under their weight. “You’ve bitten me no less than three times, Lux.” He reminds him and Pollux chews another couple of fries and swallows.

4. bathtub fic:

Pollux sinks lower into the water and for the first time in a long while, it’s quiet.

The faucet still drips, ripples spreading out until they hit his knees and he too lets them sink beneath the water--distorted and unclear.

5. the five feet apart because they’re not (gay)

Five feet.

A foot between him and the desk, another two and a half feet of desk, and then Grayson a foot and a half away. Might as well be miles and Pollux sniffs (again) picking at his thumbnail (again).

Five minutes.

Five minutes they’ve been sitting in silence. Nick is quiet too, but there’s a buzzing of anxiety whirling and twisting on itself that Pollux isn’t sure if it’s his own or just Nick. Probably both, if he’s being honest with himself.

6. nightmare/dropping the cups fic:

it’s too late to still be awake, Ortega thinks. He should be in bed with Pollux, instead he’s picking his way around the kitchen, cleaning up the remnants of dinner neither of them bothered to deal with once they were done.

7. phone go brr fic:

it’s far too early when the distant sound of the factory standard phone chime beeps over and over again, drawing him out of sleep. The sun hasn’t even come up, Pollux squinting his eyes open to stare at the blue hour haze coming through the thin curtains.

8. pollux shaving his head panic attack rip:

4am and he’s stuck sitting on the lid of the toilet, hands shaking uncontrollably with what he knows is yet another panic attack, his upper back and diaphragm aching from the frantic breaths. It’s all muted under the sound of clippers, the buzz and the strain as he combs the blades through his curls, watching ringlet after ringlet fall to the white tiles. They’re cold beneath his bare toes and and oh god he can *feel* it—

Why do they have to be white tiles?

Cool air on the back of an open shift, shivering at the cold and indignity of it all, laying on his side and staring at the floor, large needle pressing against his lower back deeper, between vertebra and poking into his spine—

9. legit just some pwp

Pushed against the wall and Pollux gasps, Ortega’s lips immediately following to meet his again, open mouths and trying to breathe while kissing is incredibly difficult. Ortega pulls him closer and Pollux has to crane his neck to keep reaching his lips but he doesn’t mind the effort.

Pollux grasp his shirt, pulling on fancy buttons and silk to find skin, fingers running across his stomach, feeling Ortega’s breath catching.

10. don’t stop (color on the walls) 

It’s a clear night out tonight, the sky an endless dome stretching miles and miles overhead out into deep inky blackness bespectacled by freckled stars.

Pollux blows a stream of smoke out of his mouth and it drifts up and up until it dissipates and he wonders if any particles of the smoke will reach that impossibly high ceiling. If they’ll touch moon perched on the roof, staring down at him with her grey blue light.

11. thigh kisses thigh kisses pollux kissing thighs (nsfw)

Hands on his belt buckle, sliding the belt through the loops and its tossed onto the floor. Pollux’s hands work at the button and zipper, sinking down to sit on the edge of the bed, knees trapping Ortega in close.

12. morning after stuff per usual lol

Pollux grumbles and grunts, hiking his pants up and over slim hips in a smooth motion, adjusting them around his waist once they’re buttoned and zipped up. His hip smarts a touch and he shift his weight from one foot to the other, rolling his ankle. It clicks like always does, his knee the same crackling as always.

13. more pwp bc. couches.

kissing a path down his erratically moving stomach and Pollux bites his trembling lip hard, head cocked at an awkward angle, shoulders pressed against the back cushion of the couch. Ortega’s hands gripping his hips, thumbs pressing into the divots of his hipbones and fuck he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget how big Ortega’s hands are, how he holds him so tightly and so assuredly.

14. the twenty questions fic im never going to finish:

“Okay question one.”

“Question one?”

“Well yeah, this is how twenty questions goes.”

Incredulous and obnoxious is how this is going. And the chair is especially uncomfortable, the stupid molded plastic thing.

Charge has refused to meet in his office, saying it was too professional of an environment to get to know someone and Pollux wonders if there’s anything professional about the man. Well, beyond the very nice (and expensive no doubt) dress shirt and slacks, but even then the sleeves are rolled up to his elbows.

15. a follow up to our reflections 

Pain greets him when his eyes open and Pollux clenches his eyes shut once more, the screaming headache cut off suddenly at motions too fast for his battered brain and body. It quiets to a dull roar at the base of neck, spreading down across his shoulders with each breath.

He groans softly, but steady arms and hands find him, pulling him in close. Mason buries his face in his hair and Pollux tucks his face against his chest, hand smoothing out and across Mason’s ribs, feeling him breathe long and deep. Warmth seeping into his hand.

16. a wip i made happy without trying:

“Okay, okay now it’s your turn sweetheart. Worst fuck you’ve had.”

Pollux sighs and sits further back on Mason’s hips he’s straddled, crossing his arms and he fusses with a loose strand on his borrowed shirt. Pity that Mason is left shirtless, but he hasn’t complained yet.

“Okay fine...does it have to actually have been like, dick in...?”

“Nah.”

“Give me a minute then.”

“Wow that many?”

Pollux glances down and gives Mason a wicked glare, but the anger is tempered by the grin tugging at the corners of his lips. Mason grins back, hands running down the slope of Pollux’s back and down the curve of his thigh, fingers tucking against the back of his knees pressed against the mattress. He shivers at the motions, giving Mason a brief glance. 

17. hotel california

A haze creeps around the edges of Rabbit’s mind, a steady rise back to consciousness; details escape them, the haze of drowsiness like cotton between their ears and they blink slowly in the dim yellow light. The gibberish hum of a tv turned down low on the edge of their hearing, but they know the sound of the news anywhere--the monotone of a newscaster droning

18. the “i refuse to believe adam doesn’t go down” fic + trans rights

Jamie pulls his head back when he hears Adam’s knees hit the floor, the air cool against his heated skin as he pulls his sweats down with him. Adam leans in, scattering Jamie’s hips with kisses and little marks he knows will leave behind marks. He’ll be covered in them by time they’re done and Jamie’s trembling, biting his lip and staring down at Adam.

19. another i dunno i just wanted a different perspective fic

ringing—ears ringing. sharp pain in his jaw and work out the kinks, make sure nothing is broken. Nothing is broken—he knows the pain of broken bones and this doesn’t feel like it. Nothing crunches as he moves his arms, the world rapidly spinning back into focus.

20. our reflections:

Feet stumbling over each other, Pollux’s shoulder slams into the door and he curses loudly. Pain radiates down his arm and into his ribs, scattering across his shoulder blades and ending at the headache welling across his scalp. Breath catching, pain making his diaphragm stutter but he knows this well. Pause, close his eyes, lean against the door, and take a few deep breaths to ease the tightness.

[tehrevving]

Drunken Dante Strip Tease

I don’t even know what this is, blame @blindedstarlight

Dante was drunk, while that didn’t seem like something out of the ordinary, you just have to remember just how ridiculous this man’s metabolism is and how much it takes for anything to affect him at all. You had no idea how much he’d drunk, but by the time you walked into Devil May Cry he was well and truly wasted.

You could tell by the way he was leaning back against the couch, gripping the almost empty bottle of something in his hand. His face was flushed red, coat discarded on the floor from where he’d gotten too hot. 

He was wearing the fucking cowboy hat and the translucent scarf that went with it, with the long sleeves of his blue shirt rolled up to his elbows and the bottom hem of it pulled up, showing a pale expanse of delicious skin and the light hairs in a trail that disappeared underneath his belt; he probably didn’t even know it was on display. 

“Babeeeeeeeeeee~,” he called out to you once he noticed your presence. He motioned to you and patted against his lap, trying to coax you over. It was tempting.

“What’s this Dante?” you asked him. You put a teasing sort of lilt on with your voice, more just wondering what he would say than anything.

“Tuesday night partyyyyy,” he sort of sung out, opening his arms up to try and coax you over to him. 

“Well, why didn’t you invite me?” You folded your arms.

“I thought I’d get a head start,” he stopped, “you’re here now though. Come and party with meeee.” 

“Hmmmm,” you said loudly, drawing it out. You wanted to tease him more than anything, you knew he’d fall for it. “I dunno Dante, what’s in it for me?”

He stood up without prompting, the liquid in the bottom of the bottle sloshing, but there wasn’t enough left for it to spill. He grinned at you, a ridiculous thing before putting the bottle down on the couch. He began to step towards you, coming to take what he wanted rather than waiting for you to go to him. “Anything you want babe.”

“Hmmm,” you said loudly again, exaggerating the sound just for him. When he got close enough to you, you reached out your hand. You pressed your palm flat against his chest, keeping him an arm's length away from you. He respected the distance even though you knew he didn’t need to. “I dunno, Dante.”

He looked at you again, he almost looked sad, disappointed for a moment, but then his face lit up into a terrible grin. He cocked his head, and put one of his hands on his chest. He dragged it down his body slowly, closing his fingers around his pecs, his abs as he trailed it down. You were staring, you couldn’t help it. You watched his hand move lower and lower, until his gloved hand was hovering over the tremendous bulge in his pants. Fuck it was difficult to resist. 

Dante smirked at you, not that you were watching as he bucked his hips into his hand, giving an exaggerated moan as he did so. “My eyes are up here babe,” he teased, his voice much more coherent than it had been before, maybe he’d just been pretending to be so drunk. 

He waited until you looked up at him before he sprung into action. With one hand tipping the hat forward and the other resting over his cock, he waited for a moment and then. 

He did the fucking Michael Jackson impression dance.

You wanted to roll your eyes but you couldn’t deny that it was sexy. Especially when between all the crotch grabbing and thrusting and hip movements he started undressing. You had no idea how he managed to make the action of sliding his shirt off his back so damn sexy. No idea how he was even coordinated enough to pair the movement with a dance move of him tossing the hat up into the air before throwing the shirt up over his head before it came back down.

Dante felt up his bare torso for a few beats of the song that only he could hear. Running his hands through the sparse, light hair on his chest, then trailing lower and pressing fingers into the skin of his waist. 

It was when he began taking off his belt to the same beat of silent music that you finally decided to give in. You closed the distance between you and grabbed him by his long hair. You pulled him to your lips, your other hand tangling in his belt and pulling his hips to yours.

“Fuck you Dante,” you scolded him when you pulled away from his lips, your hips grinding against him, you couldn’t fucking help it. 

He was all smirky grin as he looked down at you, almost feral. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist me.”

You bit down on his shoulder in retaliation but he knew he’d won. 

“Shhh,” he murmured, “come upstairs with me and,” he trailed off, making sure he had your rapt attention before he finished the sentence, “if you’re good I”ll Devil Trigger my cock while I fuck you into next week.”

[pb1138]

Fictober Day 1: Ring, feat Genevieve and Isabela

Day 1 of Fictober and my prompt is 12 minutes late. Fuck me. Fluff story, Genevieve Hawke and Isabela. 

It’s busy in the marketplace. Sounds surround them, a cacophony of sources to interpret. Market vendors hawk their wares, people barter, couples talk of plans, parents yell after children, livestock cluck and moo and honk, coin purses jingle. Frankly, it’s a lot. That’s to say nothing of the smells—the smells of body odor, of powdered spices disturbed and entering the air, of fruits and meats and breads, of the livestock, of the smells that accompany city life. People bump against her nearly constantly, and more than once they open their mouths to scold her and cut themselves short, presumably when they realize their folly.

It’s difficult to maneuver, this new city. Fenris had given her very clear and precise instructions how to make her way into the town, had told her of important landmarks she would be able to recognize—the tavern that smells of refuse and is always roaring with drunks and gamblers, the rug vendor whose shrill voice shrieks higher than the others around them, the wobbly stairs that lead down into the alley that smells of chickens.

It had taken her all of half an hour to get lost. And that had been an hour ago.

With a heavy, defeated sigh, she stops and rubs her face. To her near right, she can hear a woman’s voice, pleasant and warm, a fabric merchant advertising her wares. Nev carefully makes her way towards the voice, only managing to jostle two people despite the crowds.

“Pardon me,” she calls above the din.

“—finest silks in—Oh! Hello there. How can I help you?” Nev can hear the smile in the woman’s voice.

Pulling her gauntlets off and tucking them under her arms, Nev puts a smile on her own face. “I’m afraid I need some assistance. I’m dreadfully lost.”

The woman is quiet for a short moment, and when she speaks again, it’s with that familiar tone of realization. “Of course.”

“I’m trying to get to the Siren’s Call. Could you give me directions?”

“Oh… That um. I’m afraid the Siren’s Call is on the far side of town.”

Nev sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “I was afraid of that.” Isabela will be furious. “Well. No matter. Did you say you sell silks?”

“Oh! Yes! I’ve got a fine collection here. I’ve got fabrics of all types, but my silks are especially lovely.”

Nev smiles and gently reaches down to where the table should be, and her fingers meet fabrics. She runs her hand across the various bolts and feels the way the fabrics glide against her skin. She finds one that’s particularly smooth and cool to the touch. “This one. What color is it?”

The woman coos. “Oohh, an excellent choice, milady. This is one of my favorites. It’s a lovely warm, soft rosy color and sheer. If you’re interested, I have a shawl made from the same material.”

Nev nods. “Might I hold it?”

“Of course, milady.” The merchant shuffles for a moment before a lightweight, smooth fabric is placed in her hands.

Nev runs her hands along the edges of it, feeling the intricate embroidery along the edges, inspects the gentle knotting in the corners. “This feels lovely.”

“The color looks good on you.”

“Oh, it’s not for me.” The feel of Isabela’s hand in hers comes to mind, fills her with warmth. “It’s for my girlfriend. How much?”

The woman coos again. “Girlfriend, huh? A lucky woman. 20 copper.”

Nev nods and reaches into her inner pocket for her purse. “I’m the lucky one.” She chuckles and shakes her head, counting the coins out. “Could you direct me to the nearest tavern, please?”

“Oh, course. It’s a straight shot to your left, about a 10 minutes’ walk. If you reach the guy with the parrots, you’ve gone too far.”

Nev smiles and passes the coin over, tucking the scarf into her coat. “Thank you.” She and Isabela know each other well enough to know that taverns are the best place to reunite. Isabela will find her eventually.

She manages to make it a good 10 steps without attracting anybody’s attention. When she does, they’re a little too insistent for her liking. “You there, scary buff lady! Yes, you, with the white hair, you look like a woman who enjoys fine things in life!”

Nev snorts but meanders over to the sound of his voice. “And what fine things might you have?”

“Ah, even without sight, milady can surely appreciate my fine baubles!” He doesn’t even sound ashamed. “Many things, I’ve got. I’ve got many fine jewels, necklaces that would make any noblewoman the envy of you!”

Nev snorts, memories of her own stint as a noblewoman coming back to mind. “I strike you as the gaudy type, then?”

“Maker, no! My deepest apologies, milady, I mean not to offend!”

His discomfort is funny enough that she waves him off. “I’m not interested in jewelry.” She turns to leave, but his hand catches hers. Resisting the urge to pummel him, she tilts her chin up defensively. “Unhand me.”

“Apologies once more, milady, but… Did I not overhear that you’ve got a… lady love?”

Of course. Merchants, always sticking their noses into everyone else’s business. “What of it?”

“Perhaps this special lady deserves a special bauble? Many fine jewels, I have, many. I’ve got a necklace here with a jewel big as your eye and blue as the sea, or I’ve got a pair of earrings shiny as starlight.” He pauses and leans in, his voice lowered. “Or perhaps… a ring?”

“A ring?” Nev raises a brow at him.

“I’ve got quite a few, milady. This one here—” a ring is pressed into her hand, and she brings it into herself to feel the band. “Seven diamonds across the band. You feel there? Middle one is a heart, raised above the others. Band is gold.”

Nev shakes her head, moves to hand it back. “No, thank you.”

“Or this one!” Another ring in her hand. “Antivan silver! A lovely inset emerald!”

“Maker’s hairy balls, there you are!” An arm snakes about her waist, making her jump, and she passes the ring back to the merchant. Isabela sighs, hugging her close. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, pet.”

Nev chuckles, her face warming. “Sorry, love. I got turned around.”

“Ah, this is the lady love?”

Nev sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. Isabela’s hand tightens around her waist. “What of it?”

“A pair of lovely rings for two lovely ladies, perhaps with marriage on the mind?”

Nev bristles a little and frowns. “No, marriage is not on the mind.” Turning into Isabela’s warmth, she gestures over her shoulder. “Come on, Bela, let’s leave.”

“But—but—”

Nev shoots a scowl in the man’s general direction and puts her arm around Isabela’s shoulders. Isabela seems unperturbed by the interaction, already launching into a full-blown story about her day, but Nev’s mind wanders. ‘With marriage on the mind.’ Genevieve would be a liar if she said she’d never thought about asking Isabela to marry her, but she knows her hard stance against it, and though it is more difficult than she’d expected, she respects it. Isabela is a free spirit. Like the sea, she has no master, no owner, no claim to her. But still, the thought lingers. No. Stop that. Nev scolds herself her selfishness. Marriage makes no difference.

“Genevieve.” Isabela’s voice cuts through her thoughts, pulls her attention to her. “Are you listening?”

“Oh… Sorry, love, no. I was miles away. What were you saying?”

She can feel Isabela’s eyes trailing across her face. “…It’s not important. What were you thinking about?”

Ah, shit. Genevieve is good at many things, but lying is not one of them. She scrambles, reaching for something, anything she can say. With a sudden grin, she squeezes the arm around Isabela’s shoulders. “Just thinking about how to give you your present.”

“Ooh, a present? Let’s have it then.”

Nev chuckles and reaches into her coat. She had planned to wait, give it to her later that night, but oh well. Isabela coos when Nev presents the scarf to her. “The lady said it was a rosy color? I dunno. It just feels so nice, I thought you might like it.”

Isabela practically purrs, and there’s a shuffling as she steps away. When she comes back to Nev’s side, she moves Nev’s hand to her waist where the scarf has been tied. “I do indeed, my love. Thank you.”

They make their way back to the ship, carrying carefree and comfortable conversation, their hands on one another’s hips. The rest of the evening passes in easy companionship—drinking, dinner, more drinking, a night spent holding one another, with hands drifting listlessly across bodies and stolen kisses.

Nev wakes late in the day, the cabin filled with warmth. When she reaches across to pull Isabela to her, she finds the bed empty which draws a frown upon her face. Isabela never rises before her. They take it as personal challenges to see who can sleep in the longest.

“Bela?” Nev mumbles. When there is no response, she sighs and sits up. Her hair sticks out at strange angles, but she can’t be bothered to try to flatten it back down. Instead, she reaches for one of Isabela’s scarves kept tied to the headboard and wraps it deftly about her hair.

“Well, don’t you look lovely this morning.”

Nev chuckles, face warming. “Do I? I feel as though a raven has nested in my hair.”

The bed dips under Isabela’s weight as she crawls over towards Nev, and without warning, she straddles her hips. “You always look lovely, my sweet.”

“Flatterer.”

“It’s the truth. And that’s partly why I…” Isabela sighs, bringing a concerned frown to Nev’s face. “Oh, no, don’t do that. This isn’t… Piss. I hoped this would go better.”

Nev puts a hand on Isabela’s hip, the other going to her cheek, the movement easy from years of practice. “What is it?”

“I got you something.”

Her brow quirks and she tilts her head. “Oh?”

“It um… Oh. Damn it all.” Isabela takes Nev’s hand and slips something onto her finger. A ring. “Now—don’t get carried away. This isn’t—we’re not—Shit.” She sighs and starts again. “I’m not saying I’m marrying you, Hawke, but… I don’t know. Think of it as a promise? This is me. Telling you I’m always going to be here by your side. I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

Tears prick at Nev’s eyes and her heart swells in her chest. “I…” Why does her face hurt? Oh… She’s grinning. With an elated giggle, she buries her face in Isabela’s neck, her arms snaking around Isabela’s waist tightly. Isabela squeaks against it but doesn’t resist, her own hands going to Nev’s back. “Thank you,” Nev whispers.

Isabela chuckles softly, placing a kiss to Nev’s bare shoulder. “For better or worse, I love your stupid face.”

“You’re so eloquent, my love.”

They both laugh. After a moment, Isabela pulls Nev’s face from her neck and places a warm, languid kiss against her lips. Once they part, foreheads touching, Nev reaches up to brush her knuckles against Isabela’s chin. “I love you, too.”

[skele-bones]

Stand Your Ground

This is the second chapter of You Are My Destiny.

If you like what I do and want to support me, why not buy me a coffee?

The three months that followed weren’t exactly the warmest. Conflict on whether or not Hanzo Shimada should join spread through their ranks like wildfire forcing everyone to take a side. Jesse hated the air of indignation when Angela entered the room, glaring at him pointedly after noticing the lack of Genji’s voice in the morning rush. He chose to meet it head on and sipped his coffee while keeping her gaze.

Most mornings, Zenyatta would come over to talk to him about the weather or any other small topics that came up. If anyone told Jesse McCree a few years ago that he’d be conversing with an omnic over country music at 8AM, he’d have rolled his eyes. Now it seemed like commonplace considering that Zenyatta was about one of the first people who saw his views on the matter.

Reinhardt was the second. The friendly giant believing that they needed to come together rather than divide themselves. He did his best to assuage Angela’s surly demeanor with large smiles and boisterous laughter but it did little in the face of uncertainty. Fareeha had arrived at the base a day or so ago and immediately took notice of the lingering tension between Overwatch’s angelic doctor and rough cowboy.

“What’d you do to make her angry this time,” Fareeha asked. “Break your arm while wrestling with Reinhardt?”

The two of them were sitting on either side of a worn old table from the previous Overwatch. It had dents and nicks in it along with various stains that wouldn’t come out no matter how hard you scrubbed. However, it was suitable for a card game and a few beers.

“Sided with Genji on a personal matter,” Jesse replied as he glanced up from his hand.

“Personal matter?”

Jesse nodded with a soft hum and pulled a card out, setting it down. “Agreed with him bringing his brother to meet the family.”

“You mean the brother that nearly killed him,” Fareeha deadpanned.

Jesse sighed and rubbed his flesh hand along the side of his face. He forgot that when Genji came around, Fareeha was only a child and thus her opinion on the matter might’ve been a lot more touchy. Especially after the loss of her mother. Nonetheless, he looked her squarely in the eyes, pulled out another card and set it down with a “Yup”, making sure to pop the ‘p’.

She stared at him long and hard searching his face for any sign of doubt or resignation on the matter. There was none. Jesse wasn’t sure about what kind of man Hanzo Shimada had been and what he was now but he stood fast to his belief that everyone deserves a second chance.

When he didn’t budge or blink at her intense gaze, she sighed and folded. Literally and figuratively.

“What are we even playing, Jesse?” She asked.

“I dunno.”

They looked from the cards to each other and laughed. Despite everything, the tension and the uncertainty of what ame next, it was nice to see one another. After they cleaned everything up and changed into comfortable clothes for the night, they gathered some of the other agents and retired to the living area for a movie night.

Training and such could come later.

For right now, it was nice to remember that everyone was alive and well.

Angela glanced in his direction when she entered the room still wearing her lab coat and her hair up in a ponytail. Without his hat and his serape, he had little to hide behind but he refused to shrink away from the medic’s glare. She looked him up and down a few times, only budging to shuffle out of the way as Reinhardt carted in another bowl of popcorn to set between himself and Torbjorn.

Jesse looked away and swirled his beer around in his hand as he watched the two argue about what movie to see. Fareeha interjected a few times only to fall into the discussions with gusto. Winston busied himself with a jar of peanut butter and Lena leaned against him on the other sofa, taking it from him to open it herself and handing it back. A fond smile tugged Jesse’s lips upwards as he took a swig of his beer.

It really was like old times.

Even the familiar dip in the couch when Angela sat next to him, her legs crossed and her gaze averted. He glanced in her direction and noticed her looking back. It wasn’t an apology or an admission of wrongness but he’d take what he could get from her.

Movie night continued with a bit of a delay after Torbjorn nearly started a food fight when he flung a few kernels at Reinhardt. Everyone settled down, they watched a few movies from the early twenty-first century and exchange commentary on how bad certain parts were and how far the industry had come. Jesse left the conversation after mentions of Westerns being more comedy than action which most of the other members begrudgingly agreed on in hopes he wouldn’t break out his collection.

Jokes on them, he was going to do it anyway when all of their little team was assembled.

He settled down on the couch and relaxed his legs, ready to nod off whenever sleep would come. But a gentle buzzing brought him back to the realm of the living and he fished around in his sweatpants’ pocket for his communicator. Genji’s name reflected on the interface and he hauled himself off the couch, ignoring Angela’s curious glance and heading out the room to take the call.

“Thought we were keepin’ radio silence Genj,” Jesse teased. “You missed hearin lil ol’ me that much?”

“By god, you do sound like a cowboy.”

The voice on the other end didn’t sound a lick like Genji’s. It had an accent, each word rolling to the other smooth as honey. Deep and rich with a twinge of confusion and pride laced into the tone. Nothing like Genji’s mischievous tone of speaking.

“Now who’s this?”

Jesse leaned against a wall with one hand settled on his hip and the other pressing the communicator to his ear.

“I believe it is customary to introduce yourself before asking another’s name.”

The tone was clipped and a little snippy but there was a hint of mischief behind it. Whoever this was, they were surely associated with Genji, and Jesse had a small idea on who it might be.

“Yeah, and I think it’s also customary to not use someone’s cell without their permission.”

Silence followed on the other end and the corner of Jesse’s mouth quirked upwards in a half-smirk.

“I was given permission from Genji.”

The stranger’s hesitance and carefully worded reply reminded Jesse of a scolded child. He resisted the urge to chuckle, remembering one of Genji’s stories that his brother didn’t like to be laughed at. Schooling his expression and trying to make his voice neutral, he felt a sense of relief wash over him. At least Genji found his mark but that didn't explain why his brother was calling him of all people.

“Were you now, stranger?”

“Yes.”

Jesse hummed softly and switched from one foot to the other.

“And where is Genji?”

There was a slight pause and Jesse could hear the gentle hiss of Genji’s vents as they opened and closed. There was also the sound of birds and traffic. They must’ve been in a city somewhere.

“Meditating, it’s rather early here.”

“Early, huh?”

He glanced towards the nearest clock. It was pretty late in Gibraltar and if it was morning, that meant they had to be somewhere east probably.

“Well, did Genji tell you who I was stranger?”

“A friend,” the man said. “One who stood up for him when he needed it.”

Jesse couldn’t help but snort at that. “That what he said, huh?” Leave it to Genji to make him out to be something more than what he was. “And what do you think of me, stranger?”

The silence lingered this time and if it wasn’t for the tweeting of birds and the hissing of Genji’s vents, he would’ve thought the call had ended.

“You sound like a caricature.”

Jesse bit his lower lip and resisted the urge to chuckle through a sharp intake of breath might’ve given him away.

“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“You also seem aware of who I am.”

Caught, Jesse fought to keep his voice neutral and his expression schooled even though the stranger couldn’t see him. It wouldn’t do him any good to spook the man or develop any wanton worries.

“Makes you say that?”

“You haven’t ended the call.”

“Mm, well a fine lady taught me not to hang up on somebody,” He waited for a second to draw out the suspense. “Even if they don’t do whatcustomary .”

He waited for a second and then another to gauge the stranger’s reaction. A sharp intake of breath along with a muffled noise made him realize that the person on the other side was laughing. Jesse grinned a little, pressing the communicator closer to his ear.

“I believe I deserved that.”

“You and me both, partner.”

As much fun as it was for him to try and make the estranged brother of his best friend smile, there were far more pressing matters to attend to. He sighed and closed his eyes as the question floated in the space between them.

“You thinkin’ about joinin’?”

The elder Shimada said nothing for a while. Jesse opened his eyes and stared at the wall in front of him. When he was young, he hated the waiting game but it was something he’d grown accustomed to his “old age”. Fifty ticks passed before the voice came back from the other side.

“That choice is.. difficult.”

Just what he expected but before he could open his mouth to say something, the stranger spoke.

“Could I ask you a question first.”

Surprised, Jesse nodded despite knowing he couldn’t see it. “Go ahead.”

“Why did you argue in my defense?”

It shouldn’t have been so disturbing. The wonderment in the other man’s voice, the sheer disbelief that someone had stood up for him. But with the things he’d done and the fact that everyone in the base knew, Jesse could understand.

“I don’t know your situation exactly, only what Genji told us, but I think everyone deserves a second chance.”

A pause followed before he spoke.

“Even me.”

“Even you.”

Another one followed.

“Despite what I’ve done.”

“Yes sir.”

Then another followed, another concealed laugh, this one coming out like a man who was torn between crying and laughing.

“You are either very foolish or very kind.”

His voice reminded Jesse of someone who was uncertain of another’s intentions but wanting to believe. That small spark of hope being what drew a smile onto the cowboy’s face.

“Why not both?”

“Are you an actual cowboy,” he asked. “You truly sound like one.”

Jesse laughed and shook his head.  “Hey now, you said one question.”

“Apologies,” the stranger replied without truly sounding apologetic at all.

Jesse rolled his eyes and shifted again from one foot to the other, letting his hand rest loosely by his side. He hated to bring up the serious matters especially when he’d gotten the other to laugh and hopefully smile. But it was necessary and he wasn’t one to shy away from the necessities.

“Everyone here is gonna be on different sides when it comes to you showin’ up, y’know.”

“I am aware,” the stranger sighed. “I do not wish to make Genji into a mediator when our relationship is still…”

His voice trailed off but Jesse didn’t need him to finish. Genji’s nervousness leading up to his departure was enough indication that the brothers had something to talk about. Actually, they had more than a few things to talk about but at least they were taking the first step forward.

“Yeah, I get ya. But you don’t have to worry. Genji ain’t the only one lookin’ out for ya,” Jesse assured him. “The name’s Jesse McCree.”

“Hanzo Shimada.”

Jesse smiled a little and bobbed his head. Raising one hand to rub at his eyes, he yawned. “Well, Mister Shimada, lil ol’ me is gettin’ tired. Make sure to give Genji a pat on the back for findin’ ya and tell him to hurry on back to the base.”

“Hanzo,” the stranger said.

“Huh?”

“Mister Shimada or Shimada-san, was my father.”

Jesse whistled. “First name basis already ain’t that a trip, well it’s Jesse to you then, Hanzo.”

“Very well, Jesse.”

He didn’t expect him to say his name so quickly. And with his name and that voice, Jesse’s mind was almost wiped out. He was even starting to debate whether or not he wanted to go to bed so soon. Did he really need that much sleep?

Another yawn permeated the silence between them affirming that he did.

“See ya later.”

“Goodnight, Jesse.”

The call ended and Jesse looked at the communicator before stuffing it into his pocket, trying to fight down the little smile and the light flutter in his chest. He poked his head back into the living area.

“Hey ya’ll, I’ma head on to bed. You guys take it easy.”

A chorus of “good night” followed him on the way to his room as the fluttering feeling persisted. By the time his head hit the pillow, he was off into a sweet dreamless sleep.