#This whole hot and cold dynamic is getting on her nerves

[an-established-butt-dent]

Solas and Inquisitor Lavellan

[captains-simp]

Can your write a longer version of the Romanov (Romanoff) teacher x fem reader and/or with Carol Danvers or Yelena Belova? (I know she is her sister but they aren’t really)

And I’ll buy you two cups of coffee. Or if u do All three characters, (not at once but maybe eventually in another story), I’ll buy u 4 cups 🥰

F-four cups?? Bdosskdskssosjs I'm on it!!

2.8k words

Warnings: teacher!Natasha X student!reader, teacher!Carol X student!reader, unhealthy power dynamic, dub-con (not really?? Putting it to be safe) age gap (R is 18), smoking, being caned, praise, degrading, strap on sex, oral on strap on, gagging and overstimulation

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Your head fell back against the brick wall as you exhaled heavily and let the thick smoke escape your parched mouth. You stared up at the clouds amongst the perfectly blue sky and made out various shapes the clouds displayed, each telling their own story. You smiled when you spotted a laughing dragon.

"Y/n." Came a snappy voice that pulled you from your daydreaming. You recognised the voice instantly and clenched your teeth together as you dropped your joint to the floor and stepped on it.

"Yes, Miss Romanoff?" You rolled your eyes and glared at the teacher approaching you.

"You know smoking is not permitted on these grounds. Neither are the those." The redhead stated as she eyed the the packet in your pocket and held her hand out for it. You begrudgingly handed it over.

"Detention. 7 o'clock. Do not be late." She warned before heading back towards the old building. You continued to glare daggers into her back as you watched her leave, those damn hips swaying with every step.

You would be the first to admit your teacher was hot. With all those curves and a look to kill, yes you were attracted to her. But there was a lot of teachers at the school that were easy on the eyes. The difference with Natasha was she seemed spent on making your life at that school a living hell.

It felt like she was always out to get you, giving you detentions left and right and shouting at you for seemingly nothing. So being attracted to her while she played the role of the your own personal guardian devil wasn't easy. Plus: it was beyond frustrating being horny at a boarding school.

The day dragged by after that. Every time you looked up at the clock on a classroom wall it had barely changed. You just wanted the day to be over with.

Finally, 7 o'clock came and you dragged yourself to Natasha's classroom a few minutes late. You would be lying if you said you hadn't deliberately been late to piss her off. Not to mention you had made it quite the habit with your teacher. You were a sucker for tradition.

"I do hope that one day you'll learn the importance of being punctual." Natasha said from her desk where she didn't look up from marking.

"I guess today just isn't that day." You said as you slouched down in your seat in the back row.

You frowned as you noticed a workbook wasn't placed on your desk already. That was usually all your detentions consisted of, you doing more work. You looked up and saw Natasha watching you darkly. You struggled to hold her gaze for more than a couple seconds.

"On the contrary, y/n. I think today is exactly that day." She said with a small smile you didn't trust at all. You rarely saw her smile. Brief, forced ones towards her colleagues was all you thought she was capable of. But the one she gave you, it was hiding something.

"Come here." She said suddenly and you found yourself getting to your feet rather hastily.

You made your way down the room and stood infront of your teachers desk with some nerves. While you had never strived to piss off any teachers, their threats never seemed to scare you because you knew there was nothing they could really do. It never got any worse than a series of tedious detentions. But you found yourself not wanting to test your teacher that evening.

Natasha stood up from her chair and put the papers to the side before walking around the desk and past you. You didn't look back to see what she was doing but you could hear her open the door to her supply room. There was one in every room in the generously sized school. All stocked with books and alike, but you had never seen the inside of Miss Romanoff's supply room, it was always too dim.

Her heels clicked against the wooden floor as she made her way back to you. You still didn't dare turn around, maybe if you had Natasha wouldn't have pushed your back down with alarming force that had your front pressed against her table in less than a second.

You gave a startled cry in alarm and went to get back up but Natasha's hand stayed firmly between your shoulder blades and forced you to stay flat against the desk.

"Miss!" You called but she didn't respond. Instead, her other hand wandered up the back of your left thigh. Her touch was light as a feather and it brought out an involuntary shudder from you despite the screaming in your head.

Natasha then hiked your skirt up over your hips. You stayed silent at the act. In shock more than anything else. Perhaps part of you wanted to know what she was planning.

What you didn't expect was to feel a sharp sting across your ass and a cracking sound echo across the room. You cried out again and tried to get off the desk but your teacher was too strong.

"What the fuck was that?" You demanded as your ass continued to sting furiously.

"I thought some old school punishment would fit you better, y/n. Nothing else quite seems to suffice." She explained and brought the cane back down on your thinly covered ass. You jerked forwards and gripped on to the edge of the desk firmly as another cry was ripped from your throat.

She hummed in consideration for a moment, most likely pausing for an extra second just to taunt you, before dipping her fingers under the waist band of your panties and pulled them down your legs. You whimpered quietly and pressed your thighs tightly together, not wanting your teacher to see any possible and surprising signs of what her actions were doing to you.

When your panties were at your feet you breathing became more shallow and you awaited the next strike in fear.

"I think ten strikes will suffice." She declared and your eyes widened. "But let's not forget I also have to teach you the importance of punctuality. How many minutes late were you, y/n? Seven?"

"Please." Spilled from your lips. You weren't sure you could handle seventeen strikes from the devil crafted stick in you teacher's hand.

"You can take it, darling. After all," She started as she leant forward to whisper in your ear, "Daddy knows best." You shivered from her words and tried to ignore the way they seemed to travel through your body.

A harsh strike came down suddenly and you cried out pathetically and gripped on to the desk like a lifeline. The cane in harsh, random strikes after that, each one as unpredictable as the last and all of them hurting more.

Tears sprung to your eyes and yet every hit added to your arousal that filled you with shame. You were sure Natasha noticed it because every time you pressed your thighs together she kicked your legs apart again, surely seeing your wetness as she did so.

"That's it, sweetheart, it's done." Natasha cooed as she ran her cold hand over your throbbing ass. "You took it so well." You flinched from the contact but luckily she didn't linger too long on the broken skin, instead letting her hand drop further down.

You couldn't help the breathy whine that escaped your lips. "Perhaps too well." Natasha mused as her slender fingers glided over your glistening folds. You leaned back into her touch and was partly surprised that she let you, consequently slipping the tips of her fingers through your folds.

You whined louder at the teasing contact but Natasha withdrew her hands and instead smacked your pussy hard. You lurched forward and moaned at the impact.

"Come here." Natasha said but didn't give you much chance to respond because she gripped the back of your shirt and hauled you through the room. You stumbled the whole way but didn't dare question your teacher. She pushed you into the storage room, much to your confusion, until you stumbled into what felt like a table and the dim light flickered on.

Your breath caught in your throat as you caught sight of all the packed shelves around the room. There were more sex toys in the surprisingly small room than you could even process with more range than you could ever beging to fantasise about.

You admired as many as you could in the time Natasha stripped herself of her clothing and stepped infront of you to pick out a dildo to attatch to the harness she wore. Her eyes raked over the large collection and landed on one of the biggest with a confident smirk on her face. She grabbed the toy and some lube and stepped behind you again where she attatched the toy and prepared it with the lube before tangling her hand in your hair to hold you against the oak table.

"You like my collection, sweetheart?" Natasha asked as she ran the strap through your folds. You hummed vaguely, too caught up in the thought of her using the toy on you.

"Answer me, slut." Natasha said lowly and thrust the strap in.

You moaned loudly as your teacher pushed more of the inches in and you squirmed beneath her. She gave another harsh thrust and burried the rest of the strap in to your pussy.

"Well?" She asked teasingly as she withdrew the toy only to slam it back forwards harshly.

"Yes!" You cried out as you squeezed your eyes shut.

"Yes what?" She tested.

"Yes, daddy!" You moaned in bliss and desperation.

"Fuck, this pussy's so tight." Natasha smirked above you, no doubt knowing the slight buzz of pain you were feeling at the stretch of her toy. You moaned in response as she continued to thrust the toy in at a merciless pace.

You were so lost in the overwhelming pleasure Natasha was giving you you were unaware if anything that wasn't her or the toy. Even the cold surface of the table pressed so harshly against you had slipped from your mind. So it was no surprise you didn't hear the heavy footsteps entering the room.

"Evening, Danvers." Natasha greeted and your eyes snapped open. You tried to look back at who ever Natasha was talking to but she gripped your hair tighter and held your head down against the desk making you whimper.

"You finally did it, huh." Came the voice from behind you that you definitely recognised. "And I thought you were chicken shit." She mused.

You whimpered when you felt a hand snake down to your clit and rub the neglected spot slowly. But it was gone barely a second after it came.

"Wait your fucking turn, Danvers." Natasha spat at the blonde but you whined desperately.

"Please, daddy!" You begged, missing the contact instantly.

"I think the little whore wants me more." Carol chuckled and Natasha snapped her hips particularly hard at her words.

"Oh but she's going to cum all for me now, aren't you, y/n?"

"Please, please!" You begged more as Natasha's pace increased and you moaned more frantically, still trying to get a look at the blonde.

"Fucking cum." She demanded and at that, you lost all control. You clenched around the fake cock and trembled on the table as the brutal waves if your orgasm washed over you again and again.

But to your distraught, Natasha pulled the strap out as you came and effectively ruined the full effects of your high. You whimpered again at the loss but your legs felt too numb to fully do anything about it.

"Don't be so ungrateful." Natasha warned as she slapped your pussy making you jump slightly.

Carol stood infront of you as she started to unbuckle her belt and freed the strap she had been packing underneath.

"You're gonna use that slutty mouth to get my cock ready for your pussy now, Princess." Carol explained as she tapped the head against your cheek. You happily obliged and opened your mouth for the strap that Carol wasted no time in easing in.

She held your head in place where Natasha had let go and pushed the strap against your gag reflex. You coughed around the toy but the blonde shushed you as she kept pushing forward in a thoughtful silence, admiring the tears that sprung to your eyes.

"You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth." Carol muttered as she withdrew the strap slightly only to snap her hips forwards to effectively fuck your mouth. "You want it in your slutty hole now?" She asked with faux sweetness.

"She'll take whatever you give her." Natasha mused. You looked up and saw her in a dark red chair against the wall facing you, her eyes glued to your form.

Carol slipped the strap from your mouth when she deemed you had done a good enough job. It glistened in the dim light and disappeared from sight when your other teacher strolled back behind you.

You locked eyes with your red headed teacher as you felt Carol's presence behind you. Natasha pulled something from the cabinet besides her that you instantly registered as your amateur cigarette and the little tobacco that was still in the bag. She chuckled at the rookie joint you had made yourself but you didn't have much chance to feel any embarrassment or annoyance because the woman behind you gripped onto your hips tightly and pushed the entirety of the toy in in one thrust forward.

You moan was bordering on a scream at the action. Carol set about a merciless pace that rivalled your other teacher's and had you trembling instantly. You gripped on to the edge of the table tightly and babbled incoherently about how good it felt and pathetic pleas not to stop, all of which Carol had no issue aiding. She pounded the strap into you and revelled in your pleasured cries all while you tried desperately to hold eye contact with Natasha.

The red head was looking through her cabinet again until you brought out a box of Humidor cigars that probably cost more than a year at your school. Your cheap tobacco had been thrown to the side as she lit the expensive cigar all while smirking at you and your limited responses to her.

She brought it up to your lips with a knowing smile but you had no energy or ability to make an annoyed comment about how unfair the teacher student hierarchy was because Carol's pace seemed to increase.

"Don't stop!" You managed to cry out to the blonde. You clenched around the strap desperately as your breathing increased and.you could feel your high approaching at a fast rate.

"Cum, slut." The blonde ordered and with that, you fell apart again. You bucked back against the strap as Carol fucked your through your orgasm and kept going. You were becoming sensitive from the intense pleasure you had been feeling and all of a sudden it became too much.

You thought Carol stopped when she pulled out, but she swiftly flipped you on to your front and sunk the strap back in. Your head threw back as you moaned lowly and instinctively wrapped your legs around your teacher's waist to help you handle her deep thrusts.

"I want to see you cum this time." Carol said as she eyed you greedily.

You felt a pair of soft lips meet your exposed neck and turned your head away more to give Natasha's wandering lips further access. Her hands crept up under your shirt and massaged the soft skin contained by your bra. She pinched your nipples as she sucked and lightly nipped at your neck, all while the blonde continued to fuck you into your next orgasm.

You gasped before giving a long moan in relief as your third orgasm washed over your body. You trembled in the women's gripped as they guided you through your high that had you seeing stars.

Your head fell back against the table with a light thud as you tried to steady your breathing.

"Fuck." Carol smirked as she combed her hair back away from her face and grinned down at your body arrogantly. "We're going to have to do that again." She sighed as she pulled the strap out slowly making you whine.

"You want that baby? You want to be our secret slut?" Natasha muttered into your ear and bit down gently. You groaned and nodded your head in response.

"Please." You whispered, your voice going hoarse.

"That's a good girl." Natasha praised as her hand wandered down your body again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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[nanaminokanojo]

Play the Game | Nanami Kento X You | Part 2/8

CHARACTERS: Nanami Kento X You (fem!reader | PLEASE READ THE NOTES BELOW*) | Gojo Satoru | Geto Suguru | Shoko Ieiri | Utahime Iori | other JJK Characters CHAPTER COUNT: 2/8 WORD COUNT: 4500+ GENRE: romance | fluff | slight angst | eventual smut | ooc depictions | female reader with described appearance* | modern au | rich people au | aged up characters CHAPTER TRIGGER WARNING: profanity | age gap | strong/mature/suggestive language | mentions of bullying, macabre stuff SPOILERS: n/a

collection masterlist

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight

"Play the Game" Masterlist

The sun hasn’t even risen when Nanami came to consciousness as usual. It did not matter whether he was on vacation or working, he just automatically wakes up at the same time each and every morning without miss. It’s regardless of whether he slept enough or not. He saw no point in tarrying in bed – it was unproductive – and immediately got up without skipping a beat in his routine.

“You’re too vanilla,” he remembered you commenting when you stayed one weekend at his place in the city for an art symposium, having met him on the hallway on your way to bed after staying up all night playing video games. He just brushed your remark off with a grunt back then, but at present, he couldn’t help but muse over the fact that everything he did reminded him of you.

It was a bit light outside when he emerged from the adjoining bath of the guest room. He threw on a pair of grey sweats and a white shirt and grabbed a water bottle and a small towel on his way out of the room, mind set on going for a run. If there was something great about staying at Gojo Manor, it was the fact that it was surrounded with acres of grassland and forest with trails great for walks and jogs.

Nanami particularly grew fond of the path that led to the lake at the bottom of the hill where the mansion stood. There was a direct view of it from the balcony at the back of the structure, appearing like a jewel in the middle of the woods, and it had always been his favorite spot. The late former clan head told him it was man-made and has been there for more than a century that it became a natural feature of the estate. It was a spot in the property with a great history and great value to the clan, thus his gravitation towards it.

It’s her favorite place in the whole estate, too, he thought indulgently.

Inhaling deeply, he set out to the back doors that led to the patio and the walled gardens, starting in a slow jog before building his momentum as he reached open grounds.

And thus, his day began as such.

He came back from his run when it was already too hot, heaving deep breaths and desperate for a shower as his white shirt and grey sweats stuck to his body, drenched in sweat. His leg muscles ached, but it had been a good run.

Greetings from the staff met him as he reentered the manor which he returned with polite nods. He was headed to the stairs when he passed by the breakfast room and happened to hear Gojo talking to you. It went against his principles to eavesdrop in an evidently private conversation but he stayed rooted on his spot upon hearing you speak.

Despite your seeming foul temper upon leaving him the previous night, you seemed to have bounced back to your usual self, your tone sounding more jovial than usual. Your words were at odds to your tone as you told Gojo not to piss you off so early in the morning.

"Are you sure there's nothing going on between you and Kento?" Gojo asked just as the person in question was about to pass the doorway.

"It's really none of your business," you responded, voice devoid of any emotions. He did it, Gojo. He finally fouled up your mood.

"But I'm your brother!" Gojo protested, acting all dumb around you again. He just had that complex where you were concerned. He has always been very soft on you yet he was also fiercely protective. You hated his attention though. Yours was a strange dynamic.

"Worry about your wedding, will you? Geez. Don’t you have a luncheon to host?"

"Why did you kiss him then? On the mouth no less!"

Nanami’s heart skipped a beat, anticipation rising like cold water from his toes going up his chest. He wanted to hear what you had to say. Fuck principles. He needed his answers, too. It did not matter in what way he was getting them at that rate. He was secretly hoping you will say something a little bit more revealing about what goes inside your head given that he cannot just pry inside it even if he wanted to.

"Because I wanted to." You stated it so matter-of-factly that Gojo was at a loss for words for a moment. “Didn’t you hear me? I was dying to do that since he arrived.”

“You’re not serious, are you?”

“You tell me.” That’s becoming your signature line. “You won’t understand unless you kiss, Nanamin, too,” the tenor of your words turning fanciful. “He has such an alluring taste to him.”

What is this woman on about?

“Oh, god, stop it!”

"You should have seen the looks on your faces though. I was half expecting your eyeballs to roll on the floor. Wouldn’t that have been grand? It’s definitely shocking but a good subject for art if not a medium." At that, you laughed, the sound hitting Nanami like tinkling bells. It was such a happy sound that reminded him of better days although the thought that prompted it was utterly macabre. “Maybe that should inspire my next work. It would be like Munch’s The Scream, the next of its kind.”

"Hmm. Good point…” Gojo mumbled, sidetracked, obviously sharing your sentiments on the idea of such grotesqueness, but regained his composure just as quickly. “It's not funny!"

"But it is." Your laughter subsided as quickly as it erupted from your throat as if it wasn't even there to begin with. Your capricious nature was surfacing once more, and if there was something that was more frightening than your strong, habitual liking for trifling with people, it was that. "So what if I have other intentions behind it? Are you gonna get mad at me or something?”

"Well, do you?!" Gojo sounded like a manatee on the throes of death.

“But what are you going to do, brother? Stop me perhaps?"

He of all people should know just how unstoppable you were when you have set yourself into doing something. “N-no –”

“And what if Nanamin has the same intentions? What will you do then?”

“Hey, that’s enough of you. I know you’re trying to trap me into saying something again.” He clucked his tongue. “I seem to be the only one who isn’t in on your games, and if it is one, I have to know. You’re just way too outrageous these days that I cannot tell what’s serious and what’s not anymore.”

Gojo took a deep breath, sounding distressed as he exhaled. “Is there something else going on?”

"Maybe,” you answered noncommittally.

"That's not an answer at all!" he snapped.

You clucked your tongue, sounding irritated. "Stop screaming, Satoru."

"Do you like him?"

“Is your emphasis on that word supposed to change its meaning?”

If Nanami’s heart was skipping earlier, it has now stopped completely, robbing him of air as it seemed to have affected his lungs, too. You were maddening, not only to Gojo but to him as well. It was evident that you were in your gaming mood again, and although you were only intentionally riling your brother, he was also directly in your line of assault.

Gojo sighed in defeat, mirroring Nanami’s feelings. “Y/N, please, just answer the question,” he whined.

“I guess.” There was a pause then you said, "I mean, what's not to like?"

"What?!"

“Like it or not, Nanamin is a very excellent specimen of the male populace. He’s fucking irresistible and that’s an understatement.” You scoffed. "Even you like him."

Your voice was followed by your footsteps as you neared the door. In a daze at your vocal expression of how you find him physically attractive, instead of backtracking, Nanami stepped forward and collided with your form, nearly knocking you off your feet. He was after all twice your size and a good foot taller than you.

"Careful," he said between deep breaths, one arm securing you by the waist while his other arm gripped onto the door jamb, the position making the veins and sinews of his arm rather pronounced.

“Speak of the devil…” You straightened up, not making any effort to hide the fact that you were checking him out. Your head turned towards the direction of the breakfast room, making him mimic the action only to see Gojo standing slack-jawed, watching what was unfolding before him with eyes wide with shock. Nanami could've sworn his best friend just went into a state of catatonia.

"Didn't see you there," you said, addressing Nanami, your blue eyes assessing him as if in suspicion.

"I'm sorry," he muttered under his breath, feeling the tips of his ears heating up. Before you could notice, he stepped aside, heading towards the direction of the stairs.

"Hey, Nanamin," you suddenly called, making him halt and turn his head to your direction. You were smirking at the direction of your brother as you said, "Nice ass."

He shook his head. It was really just a ploy to get to Gojo’s nerves, and he was your pawn.

**

The sound of graphite scratching on paper like a harsh slash of sword punctuated the impending absence of thought in your mind. Nothing mattered but the sight of your hand gripping a pencil as it created unintelligible strokes on the plain page of the sketchbook on your lap. It progressed to furious scribbling, your movements becoming faster, the sound dominating your corner of the room. Everything has been drowned out – the endless chattering, the sound of porcelain and silverware hitting each other in chaotic cacophony – heightening in a painful crescendo of auditory abomination and dying in the air, overwhelmed by the picture you were creating on the blank expanse of space.

“You must be so proud of your daughter.”

Scratch.

“Who wouldn’t be? It must be great to have geniuses for children”

Scratch.

“She’s just as famous as Satoru.”

Scratch.

Just like that, they didn't exist. The room was empty save for you and the view outside the window coming to life on paper. Your eyes darted from your sketch to the familiar yet equally exhilarating view just outside the parlor. Gojo was animatedly talking about something, easily excitable as always. His fiancée laughed on the side while Nanami was witheringly eyeing him, stoic as always. Shoko, who arrived the previous evening, also joined the group. All that was missing was Geto. You wondered if you should draw him somewhere in the sketch.

The image before you reminded you of those days when reality seemed far away, back when Gojo was still a student, exceptional as always but still young, not the renowned genius tycoon he was at present. His friends would always be around him, lounging around the manor like they hadn't a care in the world.

His crowd grew in number with Geto and Nanami being the two closest pals he had. Shoko joined in shortly in middle school. On the other hand, Utahime came during his university days, also starting off as Gojo’s friend and eventually becoming his girlfriend. Now they were about to get married and it seemed to punctuate all the changes that came with being the grown-ups that they are.

It scared you.

Fact is, growing up and growing old and the changes that come with it was terrifying. Even if you yourself were already twenty four, seemingly had your life together and appearing to have matured without a hitch, that wasn’t the case at all. Genius or not, your brother also had his issues even while he was rising to his current position in society.

The problem was within you, you knew it. That and the fact that you did not really know what growing means. Your work grew, matured like crazy. You didn’t think you yourself grew, stuck in those days when everything was relatively easier. At least then, you only had to worry about your classmates hating on you. Now a part of the public did.

Looking at Gojo and his gang, they’ve all handled that well, making you wonder how they did it. He is one of the youngest CEOs in the country, having built his business empire at just seventeen. Your future sister-in-law is a professor, Geto is a sought-after model and Shoko is a forensic pathologist. They were all great at what they did, struggled as well, but came out with perfect grace.

However, you think the best one out of them was none other than the object of your pining – Nanami Kento. The man made transitioning to adulthood look rather easy. Maybe it was because he had always been mature and held himself in perfect equilibrium. Sure, he was no Gojo Satoru, but he was innately intelligent and became one of the youngest barristers who held the position of a famous attorney’s partner. He handled controversial cases and is one of the best prosecutors in the country with a high winning percentage. His work aside, he seemed to have the least struggle out of everyone.

Your lips curled up at the corners at the thought of the man. Your gaze flicked to him from the sketchbook, sitting there with a beverage in his hand, the noon sun glimmering on his hair and the planes of his face, looking more laid back without a blazer on. He was dressed rather casually in a pair of khaki trousers and dusty blue button-ups, but he still looked smart. He always dressed that way which you found very attractive although seeing him in more casual clothes like that morning was another level of hot altogether. He’s quite a bit formal, making him seem monotonous, but it’s that consistency that you liked about him. It was only a bonus that he was devastatingly handsome with those sharp features and the suits made him look so sexy in that it left everything about his real physique to imagination.

One just could not get enough of him, at least you couldn’t, but you did see how his partner’s paralegal eyeballed him all the time. (You secretly wanted to gouge her eyes out.) That’s the kind of man Nanami was. He doesn’t speak much, but when he does, it leaves profound dents to one’s psyche. And man, was he hot in court! He’s fucking sarcastic when he wants to be, to the point of being vile, but one just can’t get offended with the kind of logic he has. Once he speaks his mind, one wishes he wouldn’t stop, but he does and leaves that person craving more, his hypnotic, deep voice a rare treat. He wasn’t big on actions, wasn’t expressive, but when he does something, it’s always with purpose and precision, never over the top and always with disciplined stoicism.

You chuckled quietly, your pencil drawing perfect strokes of his hair when you were pulled out of your trance.

“Yuuji!” you heard Gojo say, pulling your attention to the direction of the window.

You broke into a grin at the mention of the name, hurriedly getting on your feet and running out of the room, deaf to your mother’s protests against your unladylike behavior – the commotion foreign to the ladies in the room who moved with the minutest rustles. You made your way out to the patio, that familiar tuft of pink hair coming into your line of vision. You sprinted through the glass doors towards the person whose name your brother called, smile wide and genuine.

“You kept me waiting long enough,” you called out, voice louder than usual. You’re hardly ever giddy nor were you easily excitable like your brother, but Itadori Yuuji was a different story altogether. You loved the boy with a fierceness akin to a mother and were always ecstatic to be around him but suppressed it by acting gruff. You were crazy like that.

“That’s because you won’t help me with my final requirements,” he retorted good-naturedly, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and nuzzling the back of your head as if you were a fuzzy plush toy, making you drop your drawing implements. Well, you were considerably smaller than him, and he was probably the only one who could do that to you and get away unscathed.

You rolled your eyes, noticing how Gojo had picked up your stuff, looking at the page where it was opened. “You should exert yourself more. You’re no genius after all.”

“That’s mean!”

You smirked at him, your eyes straying to your brother who was smiling at your drawing. He had such a proud, fond look on his face that you couldn’t do anything but stare. He has always been ever since you first held crayons and drew him as a cat. “You even included Suguru,” he cooed, pointing at the missing person you included then proceeding to show it off to his friends. “Guys, look. My baby sister drew us.”

“Surprise, surprise,” you sallied, but you were happy that he’s always showing you off.

Utahime and Shoko stood beside him, also looking at the sketch. The latter raised a thumb at your direction. “Damn, kid. You’re really great at what you do. How do you make things come alive with just a pencil?”

You smiled awkwardly. “I –”

“Give it here,” Nanami suddenly butted in, hand reaching for the sketchpad which Gojo promptly handed him.

You felt Yuuji elbowing you while you stood there, observing the man who was in possession of your drawing.

Nanami blinked then, handing it back to you. “How come I don’t have a face?” he asked, expression expectant of your response.

Annoyed, you snatched it back from him.

“It’s obviously not finished yet,” Shoko commented, but she couldn’t have been more wrong.

It was not that you cannot, but you would never draw his face. Ever. You tried tons of times if the tens of pages of sketchpads at your apartment filled with different angles and parts of him would be a basis for that. You could draw everything else about him, just not his face. No amount of contemplation and practice helped you to know why, but you attributed it to the fact that you could not do his face justice, at least in the sense that you would not be able to bring it to life as Shoko said.

Finally, you said, “I didn’t feel like drawing your face.” You turned away, dragging Yuuji with you. The boy was still giggling like a hyena until you got to the second-floor balcony where you propped yourself up on the balustrade, looking sulky.

"You might fall there, you know," he commented, jumping up the marble balustrade to join you.

"I can say the same for you," came your quiet reply. "Where's Megumi?"

“He’ll be here before lunch.” Yuuji leaned close to you with a mischievous grin on his face. “What, or rather who, is that look on your face for?”

"I think you know the answer to that."

"Did you tell Nanamin?" He addressed the man just as you did and got away with it, too, for some reason.

"Tell him what?"

He scoffed playfully. "Are you seriously playing this game with me? I'm your best buddy. I know everything."

"As irritating as that is, it's true."

Yuuji pouted at you. "I heard what you did yesterday. Why do you have to make games out of everything?"

"That's how I communicate. I thought you knew everything."

Harsh as always, he thought. "Be a normal person for once and just tell him." His brows knit together. "Well, you're anything but normal," he mused aloud. “I meant that nicely.”

You blew a raspberry. "You're just as normal as I am if you claim to be my best friend. Which you are. No take backs."

Yuuji couldn't help but smile at that. You have always been a loner and you did not mind being alone. He was grateful you wanted him around despite that.

"But you should stop doing this. He wants you. It's obvious."

"It's not that simple."

"What isn't simple? If it's Satoru, he'll understand for sure if you just try to be honest. I'm sure he just isn't for it more because he doesn't know how you feel. I mean, if I were him, I'll also protect my baby sister from my male friends. That's just how it is."

You blinked, pivoting your whole body so you were facing him.

"Well, of course, Nanamin needs to fight for it, too," he was quick to throw in, rambling to himself when he suddenly felt you reach out towards him, gently running your fingers through his pink hair. He leaned towards your touch, smiling contentedly.

"Don't worry about me. I'm fine."

"I'm not –"

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Are you seriously playing this game with me?" you asked, mimicking his words earlier. "I'm your best buddy. I know everything, one of them being the fact that you worry worse than my mother."

Yuuji jumped off the balustrade, reaching out to grab you in a bear hug despite your protestations. Just like how you were with everyone else, you shunned his affection, but he knew better than to let go when you were saying exactly that. He found that trait of yours adorable.

"You're so irritating," you hissed, flipping your platinum white hair over your shoulder when you finally managed to get off his grip but he wrapped an arm over your shoulder nonetheless, undeterred by your words.

"You know you love me."

"Shut up."

Yuuji pouted. "You sound like Megumi."

"I heard that," the person in question suddenly spoke from the direction of the entry, his deep voice making you and Yuuji turn towards him. "They're calling everyone for lunch."

Yuuji followed behind as you approached Megumi, also one of your closest friends and practically your brother, keeping you in check more than Gojo ever can.

"Guess what," Megumi said to you as you walked beside him. In one of the rare moments you would see it, he grinned and you knew it wasn't because of anything good.

"What?" you and Yuuji, who thought the same by the look on his face, chorused.

"Nobara switched your name card with Miwa's. You're now seated next to your man candy. You're welcome."

“Isn’t that more of a perk for Miwa? She’s scared shitless of Nanamin, you know.”

The three of you laughed while Yuuji could just shake his head at the inescapable trouble that will follow. His only consolation was that it’s fun when it involves you.

**

What were the odds, Nanami thought to himself. He didn't have to look twice to see whose name it was on the card on the spot next to him. He exhaled loudly, unfolding the napkin and placing it on his lap. This could only lead to hullabaloo he was not exactly in the mood to deal with especially after you just told him you did not feel like drawing his face. You sure were mean when you wanted to be.

He surveyed his vicinity. Your father, the current head of the clan from whence your blue eyes came from, was seated at the head of the table, your mother to his right, while Utahime’s parents sat to his left. It seemed to have been the only formalities observed in the arrangement. From across Nanami sat Utahime and Gojo while on his right were a couple he only knew as cousins to the Gojo main family.

He was internally pinching the bridge of his nose. You really had to be the one seated next to him and right across your annoying brother, too.

The luncheon started without you. It wasn't a formal gathering after all except they were serving a full-course meal. It was more of a way to get everyone to know one another over the week for some reason he cannot fathom, and he was glad that only your father was the one who had engaged him in a conversation, mostly about work. It was easy enough to deal with.

"Where are Y/N and her friends?" your mother asked Gojo out of the blue.

Utahime, answering for the clueless person beside her, pointed towards the direction of the door to the banquet hall where you were leisurely walking towards your designated seat with Yuuji and Megumi. The former rounded the table to sit next to Gojo.

"Still managing to be late even when you're already at the venue, baby sis?" Nanami heard Gojo say as you assumed your seat. It was evident in the way his eyes shifted from Nanami to you that your tardiness wasn't exactly the problem.

You blatantly ignored his comment and turned your attention to Nanami. "Had a good run this morning, Nanamin?"

"Just so," he answered, side-glancing at you.

"Yeah. You looked super hot this morning," you said just as Gojo was taking a sip from his wine glass.

Megumi snorted when the older male started choking on his drink while Yuuji was trying hard not to laugh.

Nanami knew he would have reacted the same way except that he had been bracing himself for whatever you will say the moment Gojo opened his mouth. Of course you will use him in your counter attack. It's yet another game, not that he was less affected by your words.

"You should have seen him, Iori," you continued, addressing your brother's fiancée. "He looks so much less uptight in casual clothes."

It didn't escape Nanami’s notice how Gojo was looking at him. He looked about ready to drop onto the floor, but paid him no mind as he leveled his mouth to your ear. "Y/N, let's not make your dear brother snap, shall we?"

"Oh, sweetheart, maybe that's what he needs right now," you deadpanned, meeting his gaze squarely, your disposition unreadable as you let your eyes linger on him longer than was deemed appropriate.

Yuuji finally laughed, earning him a kick to the shins under the table courtesy of Megumi.

What it was about you that made everything else irrelevant and nonexistent when you’re that close to him was something beyond him. You always made him lose control, tempted him to break the rules. He only knew he couldn't act on it. Most of the time anyway. He also felt like laughing, oddly enough.

Utahime just chuckled good-naturedly breaking the tension. "Since the two of you are here, I should tell you that the final fitting for your clothes for the wedding is this afternoon. So, you better go together at the shop."

"Traitor." Gojo pouted at Utahime but nobody was really paying attention to him anymore. For someone so important to society with a flawless image, the closest people around him sure were good at disregarding him when they deemed it fit.

"Okay," Nanami said, looking at you for confirmation.

It was you who looked away this time. "I'm free."

"That's set then." Utahime clapped her hands and to Nanami she cheekily said, "Maybe wear something less formal."

At that, you grinned wickedly at him. So much for avoiding trouble with you.

-end of part 2-

*I used “you” here, but since my character is Gojo’s little sister who is established to be his female clone for reasons essential to the plot, she possesses the same blue eyes and white hair. I did not exactly want to create an OC (although technically, I did by describing Y/N), but I opted for the best of both worlds in this fic, leaning more towards the literary aspect of it as opposed to it just being reader/you-oriented. I hope this isn’t iffy to anyone, and yeah, i’m not being exclusive or whatever.

If you want to be included in the tag list, please DM me :)

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI'S JUJUTSU KAISEN. [20210709] PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART SOURCES CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[deepdonutkid]

Ok opinion about John and Lizzso. S1 relationship ? And if he had lived, how do you think he would have reacted to her and Tommy in s4 & s5.

Thanks anon for this ask! I will call Lizzie in the futur more often Lizzso, because that sounds extremly funny XD YASS, QUEEN LIZZSO and I know it’s a typo, but gosh, I love this typo!

I think about John & Lizzie... a lot, maybe even too much. With the setting they had, like they wanted to marry, but we barely see them as a couple... or never see them as a couple, it’s so interesting to think about those two.

The only interaction we get from these two are only after they have broken up, but they are still very friendly and compassionate about each other, which says a lot about how they were as a couple.

Every time I try to imagine them, while still being in a relationship, I picture them as friends. Talking a lot about problems and how to solve them. They are not really affectionate with each other, because of how things have started with them. It’s very likely John was a former client, who thinks he developed feelings for her, because he is sleeping with her.

A lot of people think, John is a fuckboy, and I doubt that. Even Arthur is more fuckboy than John, because Arthur acutally fucks around a lot. Let me elaborate on this:

John married young and got four kids... what a fuckboy thing to do... Just kidding, it just shows how soft John really is. I mean, neither Arthur nor Tommy married before war and neither of them had children. I think John chose this life for him, because he wanted to. He loved Martha, he loved having a family and he chose this for himself, because he likes being a father and husband. Everything around him is chaos and family is what gives his life structure and stability.

And as a man around this time, he had the choice to marry or not to marry. He could have had a completely fine life, without the trouble of getting kids. If he got Martha pregnant, before they got married, he could have also talk to her about abortion, but... he married her and raised three other kids with her.

That’s why, he is not a fuckboy ... and that’s my opinion.

So after the war John is confronted with the problem of raising four kids... alone. He knows that’s too much for him to handle alone. I bet he was sleeping with Lizzie, to just get his mind off his problems, but it was still there, everytime he was with her. And he thinks to himself: “There is this great woman, I have known all my life, who knows me, knows what life I live, still accepts me, talks with me and gets along with my children... could that be the solution to my problem?”

A part of him also wants to feel a deep connection between them, which they don’t have... not in a romantic way. John wants to sleep with a woman, he is bonded to, because that makes sex better for him and he performs better, if he is fucking somebody he loves. Love makes sex a lot better and he could fuck around all Small Heath, like Tommy and Arthur did, but that doesn’t do it for him. It’s good sex, but not fantastic or really satisfying. It’s something to calm his nerves. (Tommy does that too, but he is so cold-hearted he doesn’t bother to seek after a romantic relationship)

But why do I think, he didn’t had a romantic relationship with Lizzie? Well... because Lizzie sees him different and she is different than him. John was her client first, so all she is going to see in him... is a customer. John is a duty for her. Tommy on the other hand... I think she always had a crush on him and she is still hung up on the time before war and thinks someday she might get a happy end with him... but then they get married and she learns he will never be hers.

Lizzie and John are really good platonic friend with each other and I still want to write (actually it’s a work in progress) a fic, with a focus on their dynamic before or in season 1. John didn’t make a romantic marriage proposal and if he did... Lizzie laughed it off. It’s more likely both of them had a clean discussion about how a marriage could fix a lot of their problems. They both rationally agreed on this and then John went to tell his family about, even though he knew Tommy and the others would laugh about this plan... because clearly John isn’t the thinker of the family.

And when John learned from Tommy about Lizzie’s plans to keep working as a prostitute, he feels betrayal, because she could have told him. But instead she went behind his back and made him look like a fool. If they talked about it, they would have figured out something, that works for both of them. So John understands, he hasn’t found a partner in her... that’s not the same thing he had with Martha.... that’s not love and Lizzie is clearly not in love with him. Or why would she still sleep with other men, if she was in love with John? If she loved John, she would have a lot more faith in him, that things would work out finacially and she doesn’t have to work anymore.

John goes to Lizzie and calls the whole thing off. Lizzie realised, she is relieved, because she didn’t love John nor did she wanted to marry him. She is in love with somebody else and around that time she notices how strong her feelings are for a certain Shelby brother... who isn’t John.

Both of them go back to being friends and stop sleeping with each other, because John can’t sleep with her knowing, she is screwing others as well.

AND NOW... let’s go back to the question... if John would have survived the shooting in season 4, how would he react to Lizzie’s and Tommy’s relationship?

John as we all know him.. has a quick temper and is very hot-headed... He would be furious.

At first at both of them. He would shout and yell and when he doesn’t have the energy to do that... He would start to ignore them. keep all this hate inside him.

But then Lizzie would confront him about this and would probably say something like: “I don’t have a choice.. I want to keep the baby and therefore I have to marry him.”

John would go like: “Yeah, I know why you want to keep it. You have always loved him and not me. (bitch)”

Lizzie on the other hand would retort: “what’s so wrong about that? I can’t choose who I love... That’s just happening to me.”

John: “Why him tho? My brother is a dick... he doesn’t treat you right. He would only marry you out of duty. He doesn’t give a fuck about you and he is going to hurt your feelings.”

Lizzie: “That’S my life and I’m going to make the decision. Fuck off.”

John: “alright, fuck off.”

They wouldn’t talk to each other for week, or more likely until the wedding. John had to be there, but he would be very silent, which is not quite like him, but he feels like the second he opens his mouth he is going to say something that would ruin Lizzie’s wedding day, but he still likes her too much to do that to her. So he keeps everything to himself.

Later he would drink and yell at Tommy for destroying Lizzie’s life and confront him in private about it. 

And he would be mad at Tommy for like a year at least, because he can’t forgive Tommy for treating Lizzie, the way Tommy does.... and it’s actually a good thing John died, before seeing them together, because I believe, John’s disagreements with Tommy would only become more violent, after Lizzie’s and Tommy’s marriage. And slowly John would start to hate Tommy... Not like John would actually plan to leave or do something against Tommy, but he would be bitter and resentful the whole time. He can’t leave Tommy, because they are brothers and John has a strong sense of family, but he would pick a fight with Tommy to every given chance.

He and Lizzie would be friends after a while, but his relationship with Tommy would be ruined.

[madara-fate]

Maddy, I’ve read High School Debut and still is currently reading. First, Asami gets on my nerves, what’s your opinion of her? Does she have a brother complex? I really find it weird how overprotective she is of Yoh and the whole thing with Fumi, like I don’t get her. I thought after the incident of Fumi where she got bored of him I thought she’d at least have some character development and focus on her own relationship or life. After what everything Haruna did for her, I expected she’d already know that Haruna is a good person for her brother but there are times where she’s hot and cold, where she’s nice but can also be quite selfish; she’s wary of Haruna but also helps her. She’s very selfish but it’s like she doesn’t wanna be, but her greediness gets the better of her. Anyway moving on, I guess Yoh and Haruna have been dating quite awhile now and I guess I kinda got annoyed how they still act like it’s their first time. Getting all nervous and all that. I just want them to act normally and they really need to fix their communication issues. Haruna also sometimes annoy me for being quite naïve, gullible, and childish, but I think it’s simply preference since I never like the “dumb but has a heart of gold” character, I don’t even like Tohru Honda. Furthermore, I sometimes think about their dynamic and how Haruna oftentimes gives her all but I notice how Yoh is doing the same but only subtly and does it his own way. I also think that I understand Yoh’s ex; I personally don’t hate her and she seems to be a very nice girl and I don’t think she’s that selfish like a truly bad person because Yoh in her perspective is like a hot and cold type of person (like Asami), he’s sometimes sweet but the things that come out of his mouth are harsh, I actually understand why she oftentimes questions if they’re even dating especially that Yoh never told her that he loves her but I see how he’s slowly getting better with his emotions due to Haruna.

I would just like to add, does Asaoka like Haruna? He does, doesn’t he? But why?

Regarding Asami, I agree with your assessment of her, because I wasn't too fond of her either to be honest, and her relationship with Fumi did have me asking a few questions. The way it was "resolved" if you could even call it that, just didn't really seem... Right.

Regarding Yoh and Haruna's relationship, the amount of time that it takes for someone to get completely comfortable around the person you're dating, varies from person to person. I don't think the way they acted around each other, even at that stage, was too uncommon.

Regarding Haruna, yeah it's just a preference. I didn't mind her naivety or gullibility because I loved the fact that she was very strong willed and very determined, she went after what she wanted, and didn't take shit from others.

And yes I do believe that Asaoka liked Haruna, although I don't really know why, but does he need a reason to?

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Domination.

A commission for the very lovely @evaesis​. 

Word Count: 4k.

Pairing: Yandere!Dabi/OC (& Slight Yandere!Overhaul/OC).

TW: Non-Con, Dub-Con, A/B/O Dynamics, Oral Sex (M. Receiving), Kidnapping, Imprisonment, Slight Exhibitionism, Non-Consensual Touching, Mind Break, Physical Abuse, Slight Stockholm Syndrome, and Possessive Mindsets. 

There was someone in Kit’s apartment.

She knew there was. She knew there was, she’d known since the moment she found her deadbolt undone, a new scratch next to the lock, the interior of her flat just a little too quiet not to be suspicious. She should’ve been used to it, now, considering her quirk, how it heightened her senses, how often it seemed to attract fans a little more proactive than most, but she still found it difficult to fight that familiar paranoia, the feeling that something was wrong, even if evidence was sparse. She tried to ignore it as she pushed open her front door, but it was difficult to suppress. It was always difficult, for—

“Are you ignoring me, Bluu?”

Her anxiety spiked, but dropped just as quickly. Right.

She’d managed to forget about the phone in her hand, Aizawa still loitering on the other end.

She took a second to sigh before she moved it back to her ear, already hitting herself for letting such minor details get under her skin. “Trying to,” She countered, stepping through the threshold, dropping her bag on the nearest table before bothering to grope for a light switch. “You were talking about tomorrow’s stake-out? C’mon, I’m dying to hear how two Pro-Heroes will somehow, against all odds, spend eight hours staring at an empty storefront.”

There was a hum, a breath of a laugh, but Aizawa was just as stern as ever when he went on. “Don’t change the topic. If something’s wrong, I can—”

“You can go home and relax.” Her lights flickered on, and Kit’s nerves eased. Her furniture wasn’t toppled over, her windows weren’t broken, and nothing was out of place, even if her ears were still pressed to her scalp, her tails flicking anxiously behind her. “I’m a big girl, alright? If anything’s wrong, I can handle it.” Aizawa hummed skeptically, and Kit groaned, making her exasperation clear, as she went on. “Goodnight. Make sure you’re ready to be this helpful tomorrow, Mr. Alpha.”

“Make sure you’re still alive, tomorrow,” He retorted, trying and failing to hide the fondness in his voice. “Keep yourself safe. I don’t work with corpses.”

He hung up before she had the chance to respond, leaving Kit in frustrated, giddy silence. Tossing her phone on to the closest table, Kit tried to take her own advice. She’d just gotten off of patrol. She was on high-alert, she was exgausted, and she was projecting that onto the place she wanted to feel safe the most – her apartment. She wanted to feel safe, but she didn’t want to let herself. She just wanted one more fight, a few more minutes of adrenaline, and if she couldn’t find one, her irrational instincts were content to make one.

And then, she caught it. A hint of smoke, something similar to burnt sugar. Caramelized past the point of sweetness, but still pleasant enough to cover up the rot, just underneath it.

An arm wrapped around her waist, a chest slotted itself against her back, and Kit grit her teeth, fighting the urge to kick herself for not listening to her irrational instincts sooner.

“Talking to an alpha behind my back, dollface?” The voice was rough, low and raspy, at the same time, and Kit recognized it instantly – Dabi, a member of the League of Villains, a familiar face from the other side of battle fields and walls of fire that always seemed to be just a little too far for Kit to fight, beat, and arrest, before he could cause any more carnage. Anger shot through her, bright and blinding, but the feeling dimmed into numb, logical terror as a scarred hand rose, wrapping around her neck, his palm just hot enough to remind her of his quirk, of the damage it could do in seconds, if she gave him a reason to use it. “Try anything, and the whole fucking building goes up.” His tone was still light, teetering on the line between careless and calculated, but Kit knew better than to test him. If Dabi made a threat, she knew he’d be good for it. She’d already given him plenty of chances to prove that, unfortunately. “I just need to help my friend with somethin’, sweetheart. Nobody has to get hurt.”

She could’ve fought back. She wanted to fight back. Dabi wasn’t good with close-ranger combat, but she was, and she could’ve fought and won, if she tried to.

But, as soon as she caught a stroke of red in her peripheral, as soon as she heard that sigh, she knew she couldn’t. Not if Keigo was here.

Not when she knew he’d sooner slit her throat than let her interfere with whatever plan the Hero Commission had arranged for him.

In his defense, he seemed hesitant. His expression was grim as he stepped into Kit’s line of sight, his wings folded against his back and his mouth set into a small frown. She only got a moment to glare, though, before Dabi drove his heel into the back of her knee, shoving Kit to the ground and grabbing her wrists, forcing them against the small of her back while she growled, baring her teeth to both of the men that surrounded her. She wouldn’t fight back. She wouldn’t blow his cover, but that didn’t mean she had to be nice about it. “Bastards,” She spat, Dabi’s hand already slipping under her shorts, his intentions becoming more unignorable with every passing second. “Don’t touch me. What the fuck do you think you’re—”

“Don’t take this personally.” At least Keigo fit the part, just as cold and just as villainous as his more sincere counterpart. “It was Dabi’s call. I would’ve gone with a civilian, if it was up to me.”

“Our initiation.” It was a purr, this time, punctuated by a chuckle as nimble fingers found her panties, tracing the shape of her slit through the thin fabric. Despite herself, her breath hitched as his thumb caught on her clit, pushing a slow, deep circle into the vulnerable bundle of nerves. “You should feel honored. Another villain would’ve been easier, and there’s gotta be a hundred different sidekicks easier to track down than you, but I figured if our golden boy wants to prove he can get his hands dirty…” There was a pause, another laugh, this one muffled by the dip of her shoulder. “Might as well let him have a taste of my favorite little Hero before I take her home, right?”

An initiation. That was what he claimed this was for – Keigo’s initiation, but Dabi didn’t seem in a rush to pull away. He took his time, pushing open-mouthed kisses into the side of her neck, nipping at all the tiny, sensitive spots that made her eyes clench shut, her body jerk under the oh-so-generous attention of an alpha. She didn’t want him to touch her. She didn’t want him anywhere near her, but her body did, and that was enough to spur Dabi forward, a deep chuckle falling from his lips as his gaze shifted, rising to Keigo, still kneeling stiffly in front of her. “Didn’t take you for the shy type, rookie. Get down here, before I start to think you’re havin’ second thoughts.”

Keigo rolled his eyes, but his hesitation was playful, at best, a show put on for Kit’s sake rather than his own. “I’m not trying to ruin your fun.” His tone was light, but the way he moved was stiff, clinical, his fingertips barely brushing against her waist as Dabi pulled back, giving her just enough distance to let Keigo take the lead. Keigo didn’t argue, only taking his place, his lips ghosting over the edge of her jaw. “I’m sorry,” He whispered, just quietly enough to let Dabi believe it was some idle threat. “I’ll make it quick, I promise.”

At least she didn’t have to lie. Her lines were the same, regardless of his role. “Go fuck yourself.”

If nothing else, Keigo tried to keep his word. It was a small mercy, how little he used his hands, how swiftly his feathers cut through her shorts and her panties, and yet, she couldn’t bring herself to be grateful, not when she still felt so exposed under Dabi’s prying eyes, not when it just gave him more skin to touch, more to burn. She didn’t need to be prepped. There was already slick coating the inside of her thighs, heat pooling at her core, her omega instincts reacting to the alphas’ pheromones before she could will herself not to, but Dabi must’ve been feeling nice. Whether or not she needed it, Dabi still took the time force two fingers through her tight entrance, the sudden intrusion drawing out a pitiful whimper that only seemed to make Dabi’s grin widen further. It was too intense, for something so thoughtless. He didn’t set a pace, didn’t try to find a rhythm, just curling his digits, spreading them apart, aiming for whatever made Kit grit her teeth and bow her head and keen, loudly, needily, despite how hard she fought not to. It was embarrassing. It was humiliating. It was…

It felt good, and she hated him for it.

By time he pulled away, she was bent over, squirming in his hold and panting, trying desperately to ignore the hum Dabi let out as he popped his fingers into his mouth, all sick contentment, all satisfied pride. There was a squeeze to her wrists as he acknowledged Keigo, barely offering a nod before shoving her into his chest, finally letting him take the lead. “Get it over with, pretty boy.” It was an order, not a request. If Kit was in a more sympathetic mood, she might’ve felt bad for him. “Before I get tired of watching you sulk.”

Keigo didn’t force her to watch. With her hair strung around his fist, his nails dug into her scalp, he forced her face into the crook of his neck, keeping Kit on her knees as fabric rustled and the tip of his cock bumped against her pussy. “I’ll be gentle,” He muttered, and Kit had to wonder why she couldn’t bring herself to believe him.

Then, he thrusted into her, not bothering to pause until he bottomed out, and Kit had her answer.

~

Dabi hadn’t been kidding, when he said he’d bring her home.

She tried to pretend he had been, sometimes, to close her eyes and pretend she was anywhere except the damp, dank cellar of whatever warehouse she’d been sedated and trapped inside of, but it was difficult. The quirk-cancelling collar around her neck was too heavy to be ignored, pressing against the base of her throat with an uncomfortable chill, and she couldn’t seem to get used to the way the chain attached to it rattled every time she tried to move. The concrete made it difficult, too, scraping against her knees, threatening to draw blood whenever she tried to shift, whenever Dabi’s grip tightened around her tether and he saw fit to drag her in one direction or another. He was good, at that. He knew how to keep his eyes on her, even if her gaze could hardly be called adoring.

“C’mon, baby.” His voice did little to endear her any further, a smug simper already tugging at the corner of his lips as his free hand dropped to the base of her ears. He was sitting on her cot, the only piece of furniture in that god-forsaken basement beyond a few forgotten crates and boxes she couldn’t bring herself to open, leaving Kit to sit between his legs. He’d been kind enough to edge his jeans down, his shirt discarded completely, his cock half-hard and already on display. He wasn’t feeling patient enough to force Kit to do it herself today, obviously. “I’m on a schedule, ‘ere. I’d love to play around, but I’m afraid I’m gonna need my omega to do her job, today.”

He said it like she had a choice, like his fingers weren’t already tangled in her hair, jerking her towards him until the flushed tip of his cock was pressed against her cheek, pre leaking onto her cheek as his palm grew warmer, just hot enough to be searing. Kit got the message quickly. If there was any silver lining to being with Dabi, it had to be that. He didn’t bother pretending he was any less depraved than he’d already proved himself to be.

She tried to get it over with as quickly as she could. Relaxing her throat, Kit closed her eyes and let Dabi thrust into her mouth, playing with the idea of giving her time to adjust before dragging her forward, only stopping when her nose met his pelvis and Kit gagged, her chest heaving as she tried to blink away the tears welling in her eyes. If Dabi cared, he didn’t try to show it. With an airy groan, Dabi guided her into a rhythm that fell between unhurried and uncaring, between self-sacrificing and selfish, slow enough to be agonizing but consistent enough to keep Kit on-edge, unprepared despite how predictable he was starting to become. Still, she tried to get used to it. To let the tension in her shoulders dissolve, to ignore his bitter, musky taste, to—

“She can still bite, y’know.”

To let Keigo ruin it, just when she’d gotten good at disassociating.

Dabi didn’t pause, but he lifted his head, eyeing the man leaning against the far wall, watching carefully. She supposed she should’ve been thankful for Keigo’s lasting heroism, his persistence when it came to making sure Dabi didn’t leave damage beyond burns and bruises, and yet, it was hard not to hate him for it, too. Just the raspy chuckle Dabi let out was enough to irritate her, enough to spur her loathing for the cause, rather than the source. “I’ll take the risk,” Dabi replied, only making the idea more tempting. “Wouldn’t be that bad, if she tried. ‘d give me an excuse to—fuck, give me an excuse to teach my omega some manners.”

There was a pause, a second filled with Kit’s heavy breaths and Dabi’s quiet swears. “She’s not yours.”

Without warning, she was shoved back, forcefully separated from Dabi with an audible pop. Kit moved to speak, but she didn’t get the chance to, not before his hand was clamped around her chin, his forefinger and his thumb digging into her cheeks as he stared down at her, a smirk painting itself across his lips after a long, careful second. Blatant, unconcealed, unashamed. Like he’d already forgotten Keigo was just across the room.  Like he’d never cared at all, as long as Kit was still kneeling at his feet.

As long as she was still powerless, compared to him.

“Not yet.”

~

At least Keigo had the courtesy to leave, this time.

To be fair, he’d done his best to stick around. He’d perched himself on a storage crate as Dabi left his first bitemark on Kit’s neck, sat on the stairwell as he pried her legs apart and made Kit cum on his tongue, lingered in the doorway when Dabi brought in his first set of ‘toys’, but today, he’d chosen to make himself sparse. It felt like a betrayal, in a way, one greater and more hurtful than the faux sacrifice that’d gotten her into this. Like he’d left her. Like he’d pushed her into a lion’s den, promised to rescue her after a few bites, then pulled up the rope behind him. But, at the same time, she was relieved. Anyone would be. She had to be.

It would only make it more painful if Keigo had stayed to watch the beast tear her apart.

Her head was fuzzy. Her mouth tasted like dust and her tongue felt like cotton, and her whole body seemed to throb. It was probably the exhaustion, the poor sleep and the dehydration and the lack of sunlight, and the fact that she hadn’t so much as seen her suppressants in more than a month didn’t help. It was all she could do to keep her arms crossed under her head, her back arched in a way that wouldn’t break her spine as Dabi pounded into her, his hands on her hips and his cock abusing her poor, drooling cunt. This was the first time he’d fucked her, really fucked her, and it showed, his satisfaction oozing out in his pheromones, his wild grin, the way he couldn’t seem to think about doing anything but bucking into her faster, deeper, harder.

 She was used to it, or she should’ve been, at least. He usually focused on his own pleasure, Kit’s needs serving as something unnecessary enough to be completely forgotten, but it would’ve been impossible not to react as he rutted into her pussy, it would’ve been impossible not to squirm and whine and go tense, if only because she knew there was no way out of his iron-clad grip. She did make a half-hearted attempt, clawing at the sheets and struggling, but Dabi put a stop to her futile attempts to fight back with a single hand, pressing the heel of his palm into the base of her spine and letting his skin smolder. Instantly, she went still, but the heat remained, lingering as Dabi chuckled. “C’mon, baby, you’re still gonna try that?” There was a pause, a thrust sharper than the rest. It felt like he was trying to fuck her cervix rather than her pussy, honestly. “Haven’t I been a good alpha? Tell the truth, now.”

He wasn’t a good alpha. He wasn’t a good anything, but her tongue felt heavy, her brain too hot to think, and for whatever reason, she couldn’t bring herself to say that. Still, she tried. She didn’t know if she’d be able to forgive herself, if she didn’t. “I don’t have a… You aren’t my—”

Another flare, another warning. This time, Kit screamed, and she could feel Dabi’s cock twitch inside of her. “I’m your alpha.” It was a growl, deep and throaty and overwhelming. He wasn’t asking. It wasn’t a choice. “I’m your alpha. You belong to me. You’re my omega. Say it.”

She didn’t want to. She didn’t believe it. She knew what an alpha was supposed to be, what her alpha was supposed to be, and he wasn’t it, he couldn’t be, even if he made an effort. He wasn’t nurturing, he wasn’t caring, he wasn’t even nice, not to her, not when he didn’t have a reason to be. She didn’t want him as her alpha. She didn’t want to be his omega. She didn’t want him any where near her.

But, she didn’t want to be in pain, either. She wanted him to stop.

And for just a second, she was willing to do whatever she could to make him stop, even if it meant giving in.

It was a moment of weakness, little more than a gasping breath that could’ve been mistaken for something coherent. She didn’t even realize she was talking, not until her mouth was open, words stumbling out before she could choke them back. “I’m you’re omega!” It was a short, desperate cry, but Dabi didn’t seem to mind. Not if she took the nails digging into her hips as a sign of encouragement. “Please, I’m—You’re my alpha! Please stop, I can’t—”

She didn’t get a chance to finish, not before Dabi bottomed out, filling her cunt with something thick and hot as her entire body went rigid, a bolt of pure electricity that shot for her core to her brain, lulling her into a depleted, fatigued state, something more mindless and more tolerable than what she’d almost gotten used to. She didn’t even flinch back as Dabi leaned down, his lips barely brushing against the harsh, blackened bruises he’d left littered across her skin. She just didn’t have the energy to. She just couldn’t remember why she’d wanted to so badly.

Dabi wasn’t her alpha. She knew that. He wasn’t.

But, she was starting to think it’d be easier, if she pretended he was.

~

Or, it might’ve been easier, rather.

As it turns out, she wouldn’t be with him long enough to find out.

It’d been a trade. She thought it was, at least – it was hard to tell from the position she’d been in, her face buried in Dabi’s chest, her arms draped over his shoulders, clinging to him the way he liked to be clung to whenever he took her to one of the League’s meetings. She tried not to listen. She really, really tried not to, as the air filled with dust, as she heard someone scream, as even Dabi reacted, holding her just a little tighter while Shigaraki muttered and snarled and bargained, holding her until a man she’d never seen before lifted her out of Dabi’s lap entirely, snapping his fingers once before leaving with her in-tow, cradled in his arms like a damsel in distress. Like a doll, helpless and breakable, freshly bought off a less deserving owner.

He was wearing a mask, an elongated beak that contrasted harshly with his pale skin. A memory resurfaced, dull and distant, the idea of face and a case she hadn’t taken up – something small, non-violent, money laundering or drug trafficking or all of the many things Kit had never taken an interest in. She pushed it away without a second thought. Kit tried not to think about things like that, anymore. It really never ended well, when she did.

She must’ve been staring, but he didn’t see mad when he finally glanced in her direction. She couldn’t tell if he was smiling, but she thought he might’ve been, beneath the mask. It was enough to give her the confidence to speak, even if her voice still shook. “Are… are you my new alpha?”

“No,” He said, his tone calmer than Dabi’s had ever been. Not kinder, but less needlessly cruel. “But, I’m going to be. We just have to clean you up first, get you to a condition more…” His eyes dropped to the bruises circling her neck, to the dented metal collar at the base of her throat. To the letters burnt into her skin, just barely peaking out from underneath her oversized shirt. “A condition more fitting of my omega.”

Kit fell silent, at that. She didn’t bother arguing. She couldn’t seem to remember why she would.

It wasn’t like this alpha could possibly be worse than her last.

~

‘She’s alive. With Overhaul. If Dabi’s tantrum was anything to go by, he plans on keeping her.’

Aizawa got Keigo’s message a few minutes after midnight, in the dead center of that night’s patrol. He hadn’t been expecting it, honestly. Keigo’s updates were infrequent, rare, more of an obligation than a courtesy, a hint at security in exchange for Aizawa’s promise not to do anything… impulsive, despite his stand-offish reputation. He’d almost lost his temper once, the day after Kit was taken and Keigo privately confirmed that she was with the League, but it would’ve been a waste of energy, back then, it would’ve been a waste of time. He couldn’t do anything, not on his own, not when Keigo was so intent on earning the League’s trust before taking any action to oppose them. Not when Kit was already in so much danger before he had a chance to interfere, before he had the chance to do something half-baked and make the situation infinitely, irreversibly worse.

Not when he’d already thrown away his chance to prevent this entirely, all because he’d convinced himself she’d hate him for doing what had to be done, when she insisted on being so reckless.

But, that didn’t matter. He couldn’t keep beating himself up. He had a better way to spend his time, now. He had better things to do than just worry.

Kit wasn’t with the League anymore, after all. Keigo’s position wasn’t a factor, and Overhaul was much more predictable than Dabi.

It was time to take his omega back, whether or not she still wanted to come.

[justgottafinishthischapter]

Writing Romance: Opposites Attract

One of the most widespread among romantic tropes is opposites attract, and with good reason. When a couple are opposites, they’re meant to be one of a few things to each other: 1. An inverse reflection of each other. 2. Compliment each other 3. Cover each other’s shortcomings

In a sense, a good Opposites Attract serves to turn two incomplete people into one solid force. If they’re a battle couple, they’ll tend to fight very well together, often balancing force and finesse, melee and ranged, or physical and magical abilities. If the show or book has a lot of time dedicated to foils and character moments, they are more likely to be the ones that each other lean on, since their opposing characters makes them interesting to react off one another. Their roles, story arcs, and backstories tend to run opposite or parallel to one another depending on the series. If one character’s arc is to mature and become more responsible, likely their partner’s arc might be to learn to loosen up and have fun, learn to trust people, or to face a trauma in their past that made them so mature at a young age.

In terms of design, opposites attract partners tend to be inverse in color schemes. Light and dark hair or eyes, warm and cool color schemes, clashing or complimentary fashion styles, etc. The degree in opposition also varies. Some opposites attract look very similar with only a slight difference, indicating that something small is what set them on different paths in life but are otherwise very similar, almost as two sides of the same coin. Other couples are stark contrasts with virtually nothing in common to really emphasize their differences so that they can better make each other whole, as shown very literally through the character of Garnet in Steven Universe. 

Femme and Butch

While typically, you’re mostly going to see this in femmeslash/yuri pairings, this dynamic is actually fairly universal. This divide focuses on a pairing where each couple reflects the values of masculinity and femininity. Although mostly used as lesbian terms, a femme and butch pairing can also be gay or heterosexual. A fashion-loving twink who cries during romantic movies dating a jock who likes sports and drinks beer is still an example of Femme and Butch. Heterosexual is rather obvious, but can also be inversed, with a tough, assertive woman partnered with a sweet, sensitive man, such as Calhoun and Felix in Wreck-It Ralph. A Femme and Butch pairing doesn’t need to check off every box on this list of traits, but these traits tend to be common in these types of relationships.

Brains and Brawn

Also known as Jock and Nerd, this romantic dynamic prioritizes the usefulness of both intelligence and brute strength. Another variation is Book Smarts vs Street Smarts. The Brains will be good at doing research, organizing, and will tend to fight more strategically while the Brawn is primarily going to be good at fighting and likely protecting the Brains from serious harm. Princess and Bodyguard is another possible example of this dynamic, albeit a little less directly.

Hot and Cold

Hot or Warm characters tend to be friendly, outgoing, upbeat, loudmouthed, temperamental, boisterous, and battle-ready. Cold or Cool personalities tend to be shy, calm, quiet, logical, reserved, serious, and emotionally withdrawn. However, while these extreme opposites of hot-head and cold-shoulder balance each other out, it’s worth discussing same heat relationships. Kiribaku is an example of a Hot/Warm relationship, as Bakugou Katsuki is an angry little spitfire with an aggressive streak, while Kirishima Eijirou is a happy-go-lucky sweetheart with a good attitude. This is sort of the same concept, just that both boys are on the warm side of the spectrum, with Kirishima being the cooler counter to Bakugou’s temperamental hot-head. This also works inversely, as the ship Tododeku is a Cold/Cool relationship. Midoriya is a shy, but upbeat young man who tends not to draw too much attention to himself, while Todoroki is stoic, logical, and a bit dense socially. In this case, Midoriya is Cool while Todoriki is Cold, with Midoriya serving as the “Hot” aspect of their relationship as the more friendly and outgoing of the two.  

Light and Shadow

This archetype is often used as a “opposite sides of the same coin” format, where the characters serve as foils to one another. In Teen Titans, Raven’s powers are dark and demonic, while Starfire’s are bright and extraterrestrial. Both girls get their powers from their emotions, but where Starfire revels in her emotions to make her powerful, Raven must suppress her emotions to retain control of her powers. As the only two girls, they stick out as the obvious foils of the group. Many times, when this trope appears, it’s in the form of Classic Paragon Hero vs Cynical Anti-Hero. Superman and Batman are a great example. Superman is a boyscout token good guy, while Batman is a brooding loner. One is the hope for justice and goodness to always triumph while the other acknowledges that people are flawed, and maybe not everyone deserves to be saved. Naruto is interesting because he has two dark reflections. The first is Sasuke. While Naruto is the golden-haired idealist who befriends villains almost as often as Steven Universe, Sasuke is a dark counter consumed by a thirst for vengeance and the power to exact it. Naruto’s other dark counter however is Gaara. Both are Jinchuriki, but whereas Naruto eventually found friends and love in his fellow genin, Gaara was very much still alone when he met Naruto, reflecting what Naruto could have become without that love and support in this life.

Protagonist and Rival

Another case of “two sides of the same coin”, most anime protagonists and their rival tend to either have very similar backstories, very similar motivations, or very similar personalities, if not some combination of the three. Both Naruto and Sasuke were abandoned in the world at a young age with the Hokage looking out for them from afar. Naruto started off having nobody, and was always reaching out hoping to connect with anyone. Meanwhile, Sasuke started with a family and lost it, and decided to keep everyone at arm’s length and isolate himself further. Rin Okumura and Ryuji Suguro are practically the same person. Both lost their families and homes due to Satan, both are strong-willed loudmouthed tough guys with a knack for leadership, and both share the goal of killing Satan. Natsu Dragneel is immature and battle-ready, but while Grey Fullbuster at least pretends to be above it, he’ll jump into a fight with Natsu practically unprompted. The main appeal of the anime protagonist and his rival is that they push each other to succeed, often coming from very similar roots, but where they end up is entirely up to the effort they put in and the path they choose to take. They both refuse to lose to each other, and that propells them to constantly want to out-do each other.

Sweet and Sour

My best friend and I are polar opposites in this sense. When we met, she was far too trusting, submissive, and far too forgiving. Meanwhile, I was a lot more cynical, mean-spirited, and unfortunately, a little more closed-minded than I’d like to admit. After five years of friendship, my friend is far more assertive, has a lot more confidence in herself, is a lot better at handling criticism, and rather than just submitting in an argument, she now has the nerve to get in someone’s face and make her point heard. Because of her, I’ve become less stand-offish, more patient and polite, less of a control freak, more aware of valuing other people’s emotions, and more tolerant of a group I hadn’t realized I’d been intolerant toward. We saw the world in such distinctly different ways that we have managed to rub off on each other, and now we’re both such stronger and more complete people for having known each other.

Serious and Goofball

A classic comedy duo, the comedian and the straight man. The Goofball character tends to be immature, a knucklehead, a jokester, and comes off as a bit inexperienced. Meanwhile, the Serious character tends to be mature, responsible, disciplined, but comes off as a bit aloof. The Goofball reminds the Serious character to have a little fun every once in a while, while the Serious character reins in the Goofball before they hurt themselves or somebody else.

Hero and Sidekick

The hero has their act together and the sidekick is just doing their best. This happens a lot in Action movies where the handsome tough guy and the hapless damsel (who he kidnaps a little too often for my liking) is just kind of along for the ride. The two live in entirely different worlds. Sometimes this comes in the variant of Starlet and Manager where one in the relationship takes center stage while the other is content to help them run their life, promote their career, and help them. Another variation is Superstar and Random Extra, wherein one person leads a very visible life in the public eye being adored by millions of fans while their partner works 9-5 in an office dealing with insurance claims. Although they coe from very different worlds and lead very different lives, that doesn’t mean they still haven’t found love in an unlikely place. Often, the reason the hero or big shot loves this random nobody is because they fell in love with them before they ever became famous, or they didn’t know/care who the celebrity was and just liked them as a person without interest in using their celebrity to climb the social ladder.

Loud and Quiet

She’s quirky, outgoing, bubbly, energetic, and talkative. Too talkative. She never shuts up. He’s quiet, simple, down-to-earth, and calm. Too Calm. He never gets excited. This pairing works to push and pull each other until they’ve harmonized. The Quiet one will be pulled out of their shell and learn to be more open and talkative, while the Loud one will learn to think before they act. This couple is divided along lines of Introversion and Extroversion, and together can navigate the anxiety-triggering unease of a social gathering, and finding joy and pleasure in just enjoying each other’s company without needing to fill the silence with pointless chatter.

To be fair, many Opposites Attract couples will fit into more than one of these archetypes, and there’s probably more I didn’t list. But if you’re wanting to create a couple that balances each other out, I hope you find this helpful to you in your writing.

[1025cherrystreet]

New Home for the Holidays!

happy holidays! and merry christmas to whoever celebrates it!! <3

disclaimer: kinda scared ngl, this is my first piece of writing i’m putting on tumblr. i usually use wattpad (my username is the same it is here if you wanna follow me!), so i’m still learning how to do this lmao. hope you like it! any feedback is appreciated!!!

also... i didn’t really proofread this bc i got impatient and wanted to post it before christmas lol :)

warnings: none, just fluff ;)

gf!y/n spends christmas with harry and his family.

You hear the faint chime of the doorbell ringing from inside the house as you nervously pick at your fingers down at your side. Harry notices the small action, quickly taking your hand to intertwine with his, shooting you a small smile in hopes to calm your nerves.

And it does. For a moment. Until the door swings open and Anne appears on the other side. What finally does put your anxiety to rest is the big, warm hug she pulls you into, a splitting grin adorning her face. You chuckle in surprise (mostly at the fact she hugged you first and not her own son), but return the kind action, nonetheless.

"Oh my gosh! Y/N, my dear, you look gorgeous as always!" She says pulling back just enough to look at your face.

"Thank you! You're looking quite good yourself, Mrs. Twist." You return either a kind smile.

"Oh, none of that. I've told you before, call me Anne," She looks at you with a knowing and playful scowl, waving you off.

"Wow, hello to you too mum," Harry mutters from next to you, plastering a fake pout on his lips.

She softly scoffs, releasing her hold on you and moving to embrace her son.

"You look gorgeous too, Harry. Is that what you wanted to hear?" She jokes, the familiar smirk she holds reminds you of the one your boyfriend pulls so frequently.

When they release from their tight squeeze, Anne steps inside and holds the door open before speaking.

"Well... Don't want you two to freeze out there, come in! I was just fixing a cuppa,"

The warmth of her home heats your frozen fingertips as you enter and your glad to be out of the snow. You love the snow, but since growing up not experiencing it often where you lived makes it a little hard to bear in times like these. You couldn't remember many times you've had a white Christmas before (probably could count on one hand, if your honest), but you've always remembered them being the best ones.

You've always loved the holidays. You loved the cold weather and the time with family. You loved you're yearly family tradition of opening one present on Christmas Eve night and taking a picture on the staircase in your childhood home the next morning. You loved making hot chocolate and watching you're family open the presents you got them.

You loved the holidays. But, what you love more than anything, is that this year you get to spend them with Harry.

You've been dating for two years now, but last Christmas, you spent it with your own family, as did he, because it was a bit too soon in y'all's relationship to make that step. However, this year Harry extended the invitation for you to join them and after talking with your parents (and your brother, albeit he didn't care one bit) you accepted the invite. Of course, not without making sure you wouldn't be imposing at all. And with Harry's reassuring words of, wouldn't have asked if we all didn't want you there, and besides, baby, it wouldn't be Christmas without all my loved ones, would it?, you started packing for London.

Harry shrugs off his coat as you both stand in the foyer and you follow suit as a voice shouts from the kitchen.

"Are they here?" A familiar sister calls out excitedly.

You and Harry enter the kitchen and he's immediately pulling Gemma into a bear hug. You look at the sight and smile fondly, noticing her boyfriend, Michal, behind them, but not before worrying for Gemma's breath support as Harry noticeably squeezes tighter.

They let go of each other and she playfully scowls at him, swatting his arm. To which Harry dramatically holds his arm, draining an, ow, that hurt!, receiving an eye roll from Gemma before Harry moves to greet Michal, and his stepdad, Robin.

"Hi, Y/N! It's so great to see you, feels like it's been ages," She greets you in turn, having enough of Harry's antics already. You return the greeting, along with the one to Michal and Robin, and before you know it, you're all deep into conversation.

Harry takes up spot right on your side like a leech. If you were being honest, it took you awhile to become accustomed and comfortable to how openly affectionate Harry is with you in front of his family and friends. At first, it was just small touches and light squeezes when the two of you would go out with Mitch and Sarah. The actions not bold enough for you to scold him, but just enough to make your cheeks turn pink. Not long after, the touches turned into sweet kisses to your cheek and draping a protective arm around you almost every time y'all went out. Which wasn't a problem until you realized how many stares your friends shot you when you started to get too comfortable in his warm embrace, most of the time opting to daze out in Harry's comfort than pay attention to conversation. So then, when the little affections turned into koala-esque cuddling into your side and planting heart-stopping kisses to your lips in front of Gemma and Anne this past summer, you decided to tell him to reign it back just a tad. It wasn't that you didn't like it! Quite the contrary, the sweet scent of his cologne that would flood your senses as he settled so close to you made your head fuzzy, and the pecks along your neck or on your hands or on your cheeks left you incapable of being present.

Of course, your loving boyfriend pouted a bit at the fact he claims, you don't want my kisses, but quickly got over it when you dropped to your knees before the boy to press kisses somewhere he couldn't complain about.

However, despite all of your protests to PDA, you can't help but relinquish your resolve as you melt into the couch with Harry between your legs, head resting on your tummy. The whole family (which includes you now!) is settled into their comfy spots in Anne's living room as Miracle on 34th Street plays on the TV, everyone having changed into their fuzziest Christmas pajamas. The realization when you saw Harry, Gem, and Anne had matching pajama bottoms made your heart grow tenfold and your eyes glaze over in complete fondness.

The smell of kettle corn popcorn (as Harry made it since he knows it's your favorite) and cinnamon candles fill the room. Anne and Robin are together on the couch perpendicular to yours against the wall opposite of you and Harry as the two of you are laid out taking up the whole space on y'all's blue sofa, while Gemma and Michal have cuddled up on the floor, sharing the big bean bag off to your left since they were the last ones to join the holiday movie marathon.

You love the dynamic of Harry's family. Much different than the chaotic mess of yours, and although you still love your family very much (despite their constant need to be obnoxiously loud for no reason whatsoever, fight over little things, and ignore each other on a daily basis), you admire how calm their presence is. You're family is just so... loud. And that's not necessarily a bad thing! The running joke of your family is that no one in it is capable of whispering...well, except you but you all blame it on the anxiety. But even so, your parents and brother have always argued. Over everything. Very rarely is it about something important, and seldom does it get out of control, but your family's way of showing affection is very...unique? Y'all aren't openly nice and polite all the time. As confusing as it might sound, y'all show your love in bickering. The love is more underlying than it is direct in show.

But that's why you can't get over how quiet this house is right now. Not one fight over someone breathing wrong has broke out and Harry and Gemma actually get along and enjoy each other's company. They're like... friends! The concept is crazy to you and you can't help but get just a tad bummed how your family doesn't just sit around all cuddled up, and how they'll get something for you while their up so you don't have to move from your comfy spot, or how Anne will just hug Harry out of nowhere. But the more you think about it, you realize that it's probably because Harry wasn't around much, always touring and traveling the world. He never got the time to playfully bicker with his family. So, as everyone is quiet in their comfort, you take it all in, happy that you're given the chance to experience their household dynamic.

Your fingers play with Harry's hair, running them through the long brown curls, still as wonderstruck at how soft his hair is as ever. Hearing him softly hum when you gently tug through a thicker curl.

"You're so effortlessly beautiful, ya know that?" You whisper to him, the sound of the movie, thankfully, covering you're affection from everyone else.

You can just spot the smitten little grin that grows on his face, and despite not having the angle to see, you just know his precious dimple is making a showcase right now...and that's enough to put a smile on your own face.

Instead of replying in words, he only turns his head to place a soft, melting kiss upon your thigh. Making heat surge through your entire body, in turn, making your heart warm at his love.

As y'all sit and watch the movie, you start to subconsciously braid your boyfriends hair. Starting by sectioning (albeit, a bit lazily) his hair into two big chunks, then separating three strands from the top of his head, you start braiding the pieces, adding a bit more hair as you go. He eventually caught on to what you were doing and you thought he was going to stop you, truthfully. But to your surprise, he only started rubbing gentle circles into your legs with his hands in a calming manner, causing you to release a content sigh.

When you get to the end, you tie off the finished braid with a hair tie from your wrist before moving to the other side of his sectioned head. It surprised you how long his braids are! They come down about a few inches below his chin, much longer than the only other time you had saw him in braids, which was when Lou did them right before he went on stage to perform. Now, your braiding skills aren't as refined as Lou's are, her skills making yours look rather sad, but you're having a blast doing it and that's all that matters. Not like he's going to go perform after this, right?

After securing the second braid in a hair tie, you lean forward and place a kiss to the top of Harry's head, causing him to tilt his head to look at you with a big smile on his pretty face.

Since you're sat up already and hovering over his face with him still in your lap, you press a quick, searing kiss to his lips, watching them curve into a splitting grin. You smile back at him, just admiring his features.

Despite being able to feel the loving stares from Gemma and Anne in the room, your focus is still on Harry.

“I love you,” He whispers, bringing a hand up to gently stroke your cheek.

“I love you too, bubs.” You return, because you do. You love him so much it hurts sometimes.

Looking at him now, surrounded by his family, you think you have never been so happy in your entire life. You’re so lucky to have him in your life, and you know he knows he’s lucky too.

But most of all, you’re so glad you decided to spend this Christmas with him.

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

That’s Christmas To Me| Julie and The Phantoms Cast

Dream-a-little-bigger-x’s Countdown to Christmas 

Day 4 

A/N: I got so excited when I saw this one was the next one I had to write! I hope you enjoy! I also wanna thank @calamitykaty​, @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic​, @vrthngiwnt​ and @bright-molina​ for letting me pick your brains and bounce some ideas off of you. I love you loads! 

Pairing: Platonic! JATP Cast x fem!reader

Summary: 2022, season 2 was about to be released on Netflix and the cast was invited to promote the show on the Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon. A dream come true. When the host asks them for their favorite holiday memory together, the cast immediately flashes back to that time at the Christmas Markets. 

Song(s) used: That’s Christmas To Me - Pentatonix | Happy Xmas (War is Over) - Echosmith ft. Hunter Hayes

Warnings: Spiked hot chocolates, but no one gets drunk and no one drinking is underage. 

Words:  3,970

Checking her outfit in the full-length mirror once again, y/n sighed nervously. All dressed out to the max for her very first talk show. Her styling team had outdone themselves once again. The gold flared pants, the white satin button down shirt and the white heels just made her feel so fabulous. 

Though she couldn’t deny the fact that she was nervous. She was going on a live show, not any live show, but the Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon, nonetheless. Her family watched that show religiously every single night. That thought did not calm her down either. 

A soft knock made her snap out of her thoughts and turn around to find Madison in the doorway with an excited smile on her face. “You look gorgeous!” she exclaimed excitedly and ran up to her newest best friend, engulfing her into a tight hug. 

She was sporting a gray glittery jumpsuit with black pumps strapped on her feet, her makeup done beautifully and her natural curls flowing over her shoulders with bejeweled clips pulling it out of her face. 

“So do you!” y/n retorted with the brightest smile she could muster, though Madison could see right through her and squeezed her hands reassuringly. “My heart is thumping.” The words came out in a whisper as though she was telling a secret. 

“So is mine, but we can do this. We got each other, okay?” 

Y/N and Madison had gotten along straight away the first day y/n came to set. It was nerve-wracking to weasel yourself into a tight group of cast members who’ve already spent two years working together, but they made it so agreeable. The first day, Madison and Owen came up to her and started bombarding her with so many questions about herself and her character. All she knew about the latter was that she’d be Reggie’s love interest and the villain’s niece who worked for him to try and get Reggie, Luke and Alex into his club. Which of course, would not work out as y/n’s character would fall for the bassist too. 

The entire cast welcomed her into their group straight away and the whole process became so enjoyable to the point where it just didn’t feel like work anymore. It just felt like spending time with friends and trying to memorize words and songs at the same time. It was weird. But so much fun. And now, they were able to finally promote said season. 

“Madison, y/n, time to go,” one of the show runners said to them when he passed y/n’s dressing room. The two girls nodded and after a simultaneous deep inhale and exhale of stress, they made their way to the hallway where the boys were waiting. 

Charlie and Jeremy offered y/n a wide smile to ease her nerves a little before Charlie held out his hand in front of him. “We got this. Legends on three?” The others nodded and, with a content smile on her face, y/n placed her hand on top of Charlie’s. 

“One,” said Charlie. 

“Two,” Jeremy and Madison added in unison. 

“Three!” Owen and y/n finished and all five their hands went up in the air as they yelled out “Legends!” Though it was scary, y/n knew she had four amazing people that would guide her through it. 

“Please, welcome the cast of Julie and The Phantoms!” Jimmy introduced them and, while the Roots played the infamous intro song, the cast walked through the red curtain. Madison and y/n ahead, holding one another’s hands as to not fall in their heels, then followed Charlie, Jeremy and Owen. 

The audience cheered and applauded until they sat down and the music faded away. “Welcome, welcome!” Jimmy said excitedly. “Thank you for being here!” The cast beamed at the host, unable to contain their excitement nor nerves. 

“Thanks for having us,” said Charlie, the polite Canadian. 

“So, exciting news, season two of your show Julie and The Phantoms premieres on Netflix tonight, is that correct?” 

“Yes!” all five said, though not quite in unison, and the crowd roared again. Y/N couldn’t hide the smile on her red painted lips as she looked out into the sea of people. 

Jimmy turned to the crowd, “If the people at home have never heard of your show, how would you explain it?” His eyes fell on the girl closest to his desk, which was Madison, allowing her to answer the question. 

“Uhm… Julie and The Phantoms is about this girl, Julie, who tragically lost her mom and, with it, her love for music. That is until one day, she plays this old CD she finds and out pop these three lovable, dorky ghosts who used to be in a band in the 90’s, called Sunset Curve. They died when they ate bad hot dogs--” the crowd let out a laugh, and it made Madison chuckle too. “Yeah! -- Anyway, and so these boys kind of help her find her love for music again and they form a band, called Julie and The Phantoms as the audience can see the ghosts when they play with Julie. And a lot of things happen and it’s funny and light and cute!” 

Jimmy let out a chuckle too, “And now there’s a season 2!” Another cheer erupted from the crowd. “What can you tell us about season 2, Charlie?” he directed the question to the boy next to the newbee. 

“A lot happens! We see what happens with Nick and Caleb, and we meet Philippa, Pips, Covington who will stir up some crazy stuff in the boys’ lives, especially Reggie’s,” he explained with a grin. He stirred in his seat a little before placing his arm on the back of the couch, behind y/n’s head. The girl tried not to react to the overwhelmingly amazing scent of sandalwood that emanated from this movement. 

Jimmy’s eyes landed on y/n and she was certain that for a moment, he knew what she was thinking, but then he asked her a question instead. “How was it for you, y/n, as the newcomer to the cast? Did they immediately embrace you or did  you have trouble being accepted?” 

“I hated it--” she replied seriously,  but then giggled, “No, I loved it! They were so kind and so welcoming, I immediately felt like I was part of their tight group. It did feel strange at first, I’m not gonna lie. But after a while, coming to work didn’t really feel like working anymore.” 

“And your character, Phillipa, was she accepted by the other characters?” 

She cleared her throat of any nerves before answering. “Pippa was… well-- she was working for her dead great-uncle, so she had to make sure she was accepted and weasled herself into the friend group pretty quickly. She knew how to get to Reggie especially and thanks to him, got into their friend group.”

“That’s amazing. I’m so excited to watch! My daughters are eight and nine, and they loved season 1 of Julie and The Phantoms. They’re thrilled to see the new season!” 

A chorus of “aw”s were shared within the cast as well as throughout the audience. 

“Yeah, they’re pretty cute.” He picked up his cue cards to remind himself of the next bullet point he needed to talk about. “Oh! Since it’s almost Christmas, I like to ask my guests to tell us a fun holiday themed story before I send them off, do you guys have a fun holiday themed story for us?” 

The cast exchange glances until Owen asked, “Should we talk about the Christmas market we did last year after filming?” The rest of the cast made sounds of agreement with a few giggles mixed in between. 

“Tell us about the Christmas Market!” Jimmy shouted excitedly, almost resembling a five-year-old getting their Christmas presents early. 

Owen took the lead on this one. “So, we were all in Vancouver, we had wrapped season 2 and we would soon be going home, but we decided to spend one last night together at a Christmas market in Vancouver city…”    

Bundled up in layers of sweaters and a thick coat, y/n trekked through the layer of snow that blanketed to grounds of Vancouver City. She was trying her hardest not to focus on the blistering cold that nipped at her nose but rather on the story Charlie was telling the others in front of her. His voice boomed into the busy streets, along with the others’ laughter. 

She always loved the way Charlie told his stories about every wild adventure he’d ever been on and the way Owen quipped back with the wittiest of comebacks. Or how Madison would chime in with her typical Gen Z humor none of the boys understood. Y/N was sure going to miss the entire dynamic of the group when they were back home. 

Thousands of lights flickered above y/n’s head as they strolled through the entrance of the infamous Vancouver Christmas Market. She let her eyes take in the beauty whilst her stomach fluttered from excitement. Her love for Christmas Markets had never faltered over the years. It still excited her in the same way it did when she was just a child. 

“Can we get a hot chocolate first? I’m freezing!” Savannah suggested, her teeth chattering as she snuggled into her thick scarf. Smiling, y/n hooked her arm around hers and pulled her closer in hopes the warmth of all her layers would help the blonde girl a little. 

“I heard they have a unique recipe that only the Christmas Market here ever uses!” Charlie added with a wide grin before leading the gang towards the warm beverage kiosk. It resembled a cabin from a ski resort, decked out all the way with Christmas lights and foliage. 

The group stood in front of the kiosk and read the menu to figure out whatever they’d want to drink. “Ooh, that Peppermint Hot Chocolate sounds delish,” Owen said, and when y/n’s eyes landed on the words, her mouth curled up into a smirk. 

“We’re going that route tonight, hm?” 

The hot chocolate he was talking about was spiked with peppermint schnapps and chocolate liqueur. This sounded right up y/n’s street, and she knew it would warm Savannah up from the inside. 

“Follow me or don’t follow me, that’s up to you, but I am taking that route tonight.” Owen rubbed his gloved hands together until the lady inside the kiosk looked up at him, signalling that it was his turn to order. “A peppermint hot chocolate, please.” He sounded way too confident for someone who had just turned 21 that year. 

The woman peered over her half-moon glasses, letting her eyes glide from his eyes to his toes before sneering, “ID, please.” Owen’s mouth dropped open and with a lot of cursing underneath his breath, he reached for his wallet. 

“Ha! Owen’s getting ID’d!” Charlie cackled, shaking his head. The woman’s eyes darted over to the second boy, giving him the same one-up before raising her eyebrows as if saying “I’m gonna get you too, little boy”. 

And she did. She ID’d Charlie too. No one else but Charlie and Owen, which everyone had a good laugh at as they were sipping their hot chocolates, which for three out of ten isn’t spiked. 

While Jeremy and Booboo were still teasing the two boys, y/n turned around and let her eyes scan the entire view in front of her. All the pretty lights and the snow whirling to the ground so gracefully and the music floating through the air made the cold more bearable. 

A gasp eliciting from Jadah’s tiny body made y/n snap out of her thoughts and turn to the younger cast member. Her eyes were wide and shimmering, looking up at the tall Christmas tree that was towering above their heads with tens of thousands of lights blinking back at them. 

“Isn’t that the walk-through Christmas tree?!” she asked, excitedly. 

Madison took her hand and, giggling, they weaved through the sea of people towards the one-of-a-kind festive fairyland. Y/N exchanged glances with the rest before they, too, made a beeline towards the tree, dodging people left and right. 

“Hey, Owen, are you sure you’re gonna be able to fit?” y/n asked the tall Oklahoman teasingly. The boy’s mouth dropped open, and before she could properly register it, he started chasing her. She ran past Madison and Jadah, and tried to duck behind any other visitor until he eventually picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. The girl shrieked, prior to a giggle.  

Jimmy’s voice echoed over y/n’s flashback to the most festive night of that year. “You guys really sound like a close group of friends.” 

“Yeah! We are! We’re like a little family!” Charlie replied, dropping the arm that was on the back of the sofa around the girl’s shoulder. 

“What happened next?” Jimmy then questioned, curiously. The whole scene almost resembled a toddler listening to his bedtime story. 

Jeremy cleared his throat with a chuckle. “Well, if this night were a movie, you’d now have a cute montage of us going through that magical tree and on the carousel like little children.” 

“Yeah, you’d see us stuff our faces with churros and pretzels,” y/n added, making Jimmy and the crowd laugh. 

“And we got a lot of Christmas shopping done too!” Madison chimed in with a smile. “I actually got everyone’s present when they were right there with me. None of them noticed.” 

“Oh, no, I noticed,” y/n replied with a smirk, to which Madison reacted with widened eyes. 

“What’s next?!” Jimmy queried. His eyes were glistening as he listened to the cast talk. He just loved their dynamic and how well they got along with one another. 

Y/N continued the story as her mind tumbled back into her daydream. 

The music had stopped just a few minutes ago, but only now y/n’s ears picked up on the sudden absence. Knitting her eyebrows together, she lifted her eyes to the stage in the corner of the market where singers were carolling minutes ago, and was now completely empty. As the small amount of alcohol made her brain a little woozy, her teeth gnawed on her bottom lip in thought. 

“Guys… Should we--Should we go sing a song?” she suggested, causing all of them to look up in surprise. “There’s no one on the stage… Should we?” she pointed at the podium to emphasize what she meant. 

As smiles appeared on each of their faces, the group walked up to the stage and grabbed a microphone each. Charlie reached for the acoustic guitar on the stand, but y/n stopped him. 

“Let’s do a capella for once?” she told him tenderly. 

When his eyes met hers, she felt her lungs expand with the gasp that left her body. How gorgeous could one’s eyes be. But with that one look, the boy also knew what song she wanted to sing. The one song that had been stuck in her head for the past month during filming. And the rest of the crew knew too because when y/n counted them in softly, they all started to sing along. Their voices mingling perfectly and floating throughout the night sky. 

“The fireplace is burning bright, shining all on me I see the presents underneath the good old Christmas tree And I wait all night 'til Santa comes to wake me from my dreams Oh, why? 'Cause that's Christmas to me”

Savannah locked eyes with y/n and a smile fell to their lips before they looked out to the audience they had assembled with their harmonies reaching across the entire Christmas Market. 

“I see the children play outside, like angels in the snow While mom and daddy share a kiss under the mistletoe And we'll cherish all these simple things wherever we may be Oh, why? 'Cause that's Christmas to me”

Owen came to stand next to y/n and wrapped an arm around her shoulder as they all sang the chorus together, the tall blondie on lead vocals and the others harmonizing in the background. 

“I've got this Christmas song in my heart”

“Song in my heart”

“I've got the candles glowing in the dark I'm hanging all the stockings by the Christmas tree Oh, why? 'Cause that's Christmas to me Oh, why? 'Cause that's Christmas to me”

As though they had prepared the entire performance, Booboo led them into the next verse while the others acted as backing vocals for him. His warm, deep voice sent chills down everyone’s spines, especially of the people in the crowd. 

“I listen for the thud of reindeer walking on the roof As I fall asleep to lullabies, the morning's coming soon”

His cast mates then joined in again and together, they sang the chorus once again with Jeremy taking lead this time. While they did, y/n took a hold of Savannah’s gloved hand, squeezing it as they looked at each other with intent in their eyes. Like they meant what they were singing to one another. 

“The only gift I'll ever need is the joy of family Oh, why? 'Cause that's Christmas to me I've got this Christmas song in my heart”

“Song in my heart”

“I've got the candles glowing in the dark I'm hanging all the stockings by the Christmas tree Oh, why? 'Cause that's Christmas to me Oh, why? 'Cause that's Christmas to me”

Y/N turned her head to the other side now, locking eyes with Tori and Sacha, and shooting them a wink before they lapsed into the chorus one last time. It felt good to sing with everyone for once. During filming, it was always just a select group of people that got to sing together. 

“Oh, the joy that fills our hearts and makes us see Oh, why? 'Cause that's Christmas to me I've got this Christmas song in my heart I've got the candles glowing in the dark And then for years to come we'll always know one thing That's the love that Christmas can bring Oh, why? 'Cause that's Christmas to me”

As the crowd erupted into cheers and applause, the group shared an intense look, one that said they were always going to be friends. No matter how far away they’ll be from tomorrow on. Even if they don’t get picked up for a third season, they’re always going to be there for each other and be the best of friends forever. The only gift they’ll ever need is the joy of family. And they were family. 

“That was so beautiful!” Jimmy exclaimed after they’d told him about everything that had happened that night in a short synopsis. “Now, I believe you’re gonna sing for us now?” 

The cast nodded in unison. “Okay, what are you bringing us tonight? The song you sang at the Christmas market?” 

Madison giggled, “No, though we love that song, there’s one we collectively think is one of the greatest Christmas songs ever. It’s the ultimate classic Happy Xmas, War is Over by John Lennon.” 

“Amazing! You can go get ready!” he gestures to the tiled floor in front of the red curtain where the crew had set up their instruments and five microphones for them. “Catch Julie and The Phantoms season 2 on Netflix from tonight! They’re singing for us now. Madison, y/n, Charlie, Jeremy and Owen, take it away!” 

Owen counted them in by slamming his sticks together and then began playing the rhythm of the song. Y/N then chimed in with the jingling of the tambourine before the other boys and Madison joined with their respective instruments. Soon after, Madison’s voice floated through the talk show’s studio. 

“So this is Christmas And what have you done Another year over A new one just begun”

When the girls lock eyes, they shoot one another a wink before y/n takes over the next part of the verse. 

“And so this is Christmas I hope you have fun The near and the dear ones The old and the young”

Then the boys chime in, their voices mingling as they linger in the air for everyone to hear and enjoy. Y/N lets her eyes dart over to Charlie, who’s already looking at her with a smile on his face. 

“A very merry Christmas And a happy New Year Let's hope it's a good one Without any fears”

The others shut up, giving Charlie the floor now. He really was born to be a rockstar. The way he just owned the stage and looked like an absolute legend, singing his heart out and playing his guitar like a pro. And he’d only started learning when he was on season 1 of Julie and The Phantoms. 

“And so this is Christmas For weak and for strong The rich and the poor ones The world is so wrong”

For a split second, he locked eyes with y/n again as she took over and faced the audience with a smile, still working her little tambourine for the extra jingles. Somehow, this just felt like one of their jam sessions during rehearsals and not at all like it was a live broadcast on national television. 

“And so happy Christmas For black and for white Ooh, for everyone Let's stop all the fights”

Their voices mingled together again, and, in a boost of confidence, y/n grabbed the mic from its stand and walked over to Jeremy, rocking out with him as he shredded on the bass. 

“A very merry Christmas And a happy New Year Let's hope it's a good one Without any fears”

The music slowed down, and while Madi, Owen and Jeremy took care of the soft backing vocals, y/n walked over to Charlie and sang the lines to one another, never breaking eye contact. 

“And so this is Christmas And what have we done Another year over A new one just begun”

The music picked back up. Madison took over this time, and while y/n worked her tambourine, she danced her way towards the Latina girl with a smile plastered on her face. 

“And so happy Christmas We hope you have fun The near and the dear ones The old and the young”

She then turned to Owen as he took over on the next part. He shot her a quick wink whilst his mouth curled up on one side. “A very merry Christmas And a happy New Year Let's hope it's a good one Without any fear”

Each taking their turn, starting with Owen, they all sang a part of the backing vocals while the boys and Madison played the instrumental intermezzo. “Merry Christmas” 

“So this is Christmas”

“War is over now” 

Returning back to her spot, y/n placed her mic on the stand again, and along with the others, sang the very last lines of the song. 

“War is over If you want it It’s over now���

The crowd erupted into cheers and applause while the band assembled in the middle of the stage. Charlie grabbed y/n’s hand and gave it a small, reassuring squeeze. All five of them together took a bow before exchanging knowing glances. 

This time around, they knew they were going to see each other tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that as they were doing all the promo they could. It felt a lot more reassuring than it did that day at the Christmas Market when they had no clue when they’d see each other again. Though all of them knew that this was still the only gift they’ll ever need. Their little found family.  

JATP taglist: @hannahhistorian92​ @marinettepotterandplagg​@thequirkybookaholic​ @bookdealer5​ @tenaciousperfectionunknown​ @hemmingsness​ @iainttakingshitfromnobody​ @ifilwtmfc​ @angryknightstatesmantrash​ @kiss-themoongoodbye​ @rudysbay @thedarkqueenofavalon​​ @caitsymichelle13​​ @calamitykaty​ @wiselight​ @kcd15​​ @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic​ @stars-soph​ @kinda-really-lost​ @notasofti​ @alexpjoyner​ @n0wornever​ @kaitieskidmore1​ @tefilovesreading​ @pxperphxntom​ @crybabyddl​ @parkeret​ @headheartbellarke​ 

Names crossed out are the ones I couldn’t tag. 

Lemme know if you wanna be on my taglist! 

[scraregenrecs]

Rec Roundup - May 2021

Hello friends! It’s June! (i know, i know, wtf, right?) Which means that we have a nice long list of fics from May that we know you all will love. There’s a little bit of everything. Everyone can find something they enjoy on this smorgasbord of rare ships and gen!

So, look through the list and buckle in for some AMAZING fic!

--

Aeration by @middyblue, Alexis & David, rated T, 4495 words

Summary: Isn’t her whole life proof that she can handle it? However shitty life gets, she puts one heel in front of the other and keeps walking, keeps going to the next adventure, the next thrill, because it’s when you stop that it catches up to you; it’s when you stop and there’s no one there that you start disappearing.

The night before she leaves Schitt's Creek, Alexis gets a text from Sebastien.

Rec [written by doingthemost]: This is a stunning fic that takes an unflinching look at the people that Alexis and David used to be, and the people they've become. I haven't read an Alexis character study that touched me quite so deeply. Check the tags!

and i’ve known you for a long time by @hullomoon, Stevie/Twyla, rated Gen, 574 words

Summary: While moving in together, Twyla discovers something from their childhood

Rec [written by samwhambam]: I love this little fic for multiple reasons! Stevie! Twyla! MOVING IN TOGETHER! REDISCOVERING SHARED MEMORIES. I love it all. Give it to me. It’s a sweet little slice of life and hullomoon killed it. Again. Per usual.

Every Night Has Its Dawn by @lilythesilly, Stevie/Ruth, rated G, 633 words

Summary: Everytime Ruth takes her to a new place, whether it’s a karaoke bar or a concert in the park or a cheesy tourist trap, or to try her favorite foods (sushi is so far a yes, the bistec Ruth made in her kitchen this afternoon is so far a yes, kimchi is so far a no) she watches Stevie with a bright smile, like she’s anticipating whatever her reaction is, good or bad.

Stevie never wants to stop chasing that smile. She’ll follow Ruth to a million different places in a million different cities if it means she gets to see that smile over and over again.

--

Ruth + Stevie + Karaoke

Rec [written by doingthemost]: This is so pitch perfect, I could see it easily unfolding on my screen. I love the way you instantly get to understand the dynamics of their relationship through Stevie's amusing POV. This is a must-read for anyone curious about the ship!

The Future Is This Moment by floosilver8, Jake/David, rated E, 1774 words

Summary: Mostly canon compliant, David's POV for just before the cold open of S03E01 Opening Night

Rec [written by yourbuttervoicedbeau]: I’m such a sucker for David/Jake and this is super hot! I also love the tense shift at the end there.

High and Warm by lonelygrocerystore, Stevie/Twyla, rated T, 567 words

Summary: A (very stoned) Stevie and Twyla share a moment at Mutt's barn party and Stevie has feelings.

Rec [written by samwhambam]: Give me ALL the Stevie and Twyla making out while stoned at Mutt’s barm party. It is SUCH an underrated moment in the show. They both looked fantastic and it’s time we all really appreciated it. This fic is a combination of stoned making out and queer feelings and I really enjoyed it. So much. Highly recommend it.

In her brown eyes (the ones she gave to me) by @sarahlevys, Stevie/Ruth, rated G, 600 words

Summary: "I'm dating someone. Her name is Stevie."

Her mother tsks under her breath. "Stevie, ha? Sounds like a boy's name."

A laugh escapes Ruth despite her nerves. "Well – yes. I guess so."

Ruth tells her mother about her new relationship.

Rec [written by samwhambam]: This fic gave me mom feels. 😂 I read this and was really rooting for Ruth and I was so happy that her mom was receptive to meeting Stevie. It really breathes life into a character that we got limited screen time from. It’s a nice little treat!

Let’s all be with us by [orphaned account], Stevie/Albany/Jake, rated M, 1556 words

Summary: Jake and Stevie are at Café Tropical for their weekly milkshake the night of Jocelyn's baby sprinkle. After Albany overhears Klair saying breaking news: we still fucking hate her in regards to her at The Wobbly Elm, she flees back to where they'd indulged in lunch earlier that day, meeting the two of them in the process.

Rec [written by yourbuttervoicedbeau]: The thing I love most about fanfic is when I read something that makes me consider a character in a new way — or, honestly, makes me consider them full stop, which is something I’ve never really done with Albany. But this fic fleshes her out and gives her a damn good day.

my dress on the floor by @5ambreakdown, Stevie/Twyla, rated T, 4332 words

Summary: David smiles and squeezes his hand. “You’re cute.”

Before Patrick can respond any sort of way to that, he hears the door open behind them and turns to see Stevie enter, her eyes widening and mouth opening slightly. He hears her whisper, “Oh shit,” as she takes in Twyla behind the counter.

Huh.

----

are stevie and twyla together? will patrick ever understand fashion? did i just vomit a bunch of words onto the page and didn't double check to make sure it was coherent? all these and more just might be answered!

Rec [written by samwhambam]: This is such a fun fic!! It’s told from Patrick’s POV as he slowly starts to notice some uhhhhh things between Stevie and Twyla. I love the Stevie and Twyla of it and I love David and Patrick being the classic best friends and getting super into it. I was smiling the entire time. It’s such a good fic and I kept getting distracted while writing this review because I keep reading the fic instead lmao.

rise and spin / over and over again by @anniemurphys, Alexis/Twyla, rated T, 2384 words

Summary: The apartment is dark when Alexis gets home, curtains drawn, air heavy. She wants to give in to the darkness, to curl up in it – but she also wants to pull her wife out.

Seven moments of grief, and one moment of hope.

Rec [written by doingthemost]: Please mind the tags! That said, if this is something you're comfortable reading, you'll find a devastating, breathtaking, captivating story in so few words. This is a fic that reminds me of how powerful fandom can be, and how we can often find solace and empathy in telling stories through these characters we love.

save it from the funny tricks of time by @hullomoon, David & Moira, rated G, 1114 words

Summary: While David helps her pack up her wigs, Moira reflects on their relationship.

Rec [written by yourbuttervoicedbeau]: David and Moira’s relationship is one that always fascinates me, and the parallel between the opening of the first episode of the show and this fic is so brilliantly done.

Sweaters In the Dead of Summer by @kindofspecificstore, Heather/Rachel, rated T, 2195 words

Summary: Rachel desperately wants to bury herself in the covers and never come out again. The lights were off last night- Heather didn’t have to see the patchwork that makes up her back and shoulders, the speckling of white and pink dots in varying stages of healing scars. She doesn’t like it. She’s not proud of it. But Rachel doesn’t really know how to fix it either. It’s not embarrassing, per se, just awkward to explain.

You know that feeling when you want to pop a zit?

Like that, but all the time. Except it’s all you think about. And you can’t control it.

Rec [written by doingthemost]: Yay, more Heather/Rachel! Please mind the tags with this one, but with that out of the way, this is a touching look at their relationship (every relationship in this fic, in addition to the Heather/Rachel, is treated so well!) and the importance of being seen and cared for.

To the end of reckoning by @dinnfameron, Patrick & Ronnie, rated T, 1308 words

Summary: He should get David a coffee. He could deliver it to the motel, see how he’s doing. His arm is raised halfway to flag Twyla down when he catches himself. David doesn’t want to see him right now. He may never want to see Patrick ever again. The thought makes him sick.

“Brewer.” Patrick turns at the sound of his name. There aren’t many people in this town who call him that, and sure enough, there’s Ronnie Lee at a table near the front. He’d missed her, somehow.

“You look like shit,” she says.

Rec [written by yourbuttervoicedbeau]: I love Patrick, I love Ronnie, I love anything and everything that explores the contentious relationship between the two of them. I love post-barbecue angst. Basically I love every single thing about this.

you make everything good by @rosedavid, Alexis/Twyla, rated G, 835 words

Summary: “Stop being grumpy, it’s lame."

Twyla has to go and visit her gaggle of cousins for two weeks, and Alexis is pouty about her girlfriend leaving for so long.

Rec [written by doingthemost]: This is an adorable little slice-of-life type of fic with some fun banter and some true-to-the-show Twyla moments! It's cute and funny and exactly what I love about the ship.

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Happy reading, friends!

[phantom-curve]

Mads I have to be annoying and send you another one of those prompts 😂 Platonic Alex & Reggie with "liberosis - the desire to care less about things"!

this was not the first prompt you sent in, but I had way too much fun exploring this dynamic and I couldn't resist doing this one before the others! set in the gimme a chance AU, please enjoy this deleted scene that takes place after chapter 4 ft. Alex and Reggie being completely Over It™️

liberosis - the desire to care less about things (Rated T+ for language and some slightly suggestive wording about Luke and Julie's relationship)

“Okay so like, we’re in agreement that this is just a weird thing we’re not gonna talk about, right?”

It was late. Alex had stumbled home from work completely drained and exhausted around 10 pm and Reggie had apparently been waiting up to have this conversation, work clothes still on, fingers restless as they twisted together in front of his body where he sat propped up against the couch, TV turned low and forgotten behind him. For a second, Alex wasn’t exactly sure what Reggie was talking about. And then he remembered it was Sunday. Which meant yesterday had been Saturday. And all of the stupid Luke drama he had been trying to ignore came flooding back.

“No, we’re not gonna talk about it,” Alex said firmly, meeting Reggie’s concerned gaze with a look that he hoped translated into I will literally talk about anything else but this right now. “Total radio silence as far as I’m concerned.”

“Cool, okay. Glad we’re on the same page.”

Reggie’s head dipped and bobbed as he nodded his agreement. Alex let out a sigh of relief as he hunched over to slip his work shoes off and stack them on the rack by the front door. Then, the air seemed to grow thick with some sort of unspoken tension. Alex felt it press against him like an old, uncomfortable sweater, itchy and oppressive against his chest. When he straightened once more, Reggie was waiting to meet his gaze head on. Clearly, they were gonna talk about it.

“I’m not alone in thinking it’s like...kinda weird, right?”

Alex sighed, the action bone deep and heavy in a way that only Luke’s shenanigans could make him feel. Reggie wasn’t wrong. It was kinda weird that Luke had been hiding this whole Julie thing from them. It was kinda weird that Luke had managed to pull it off at all, actually. The boy was not known for his subtlety. He had very clearly struck out with Julie the first time around, and yet somehow, he had managed to draw her back in. Alex could tell by the way Luke had stuttered and stammered over the whole thing the night before that he had been trying to keep it lowkey. As if that boy even knew the meaning of the word. Case in point: he hadn’t been able to play it cool for 5 seconds once she had started ignoring him.

“Yeah, Reg, it’s definitely kinda weird.”

“Oh, good, I’m really glad I’m not the only one who feels that way about it. Ya know, when I first figured it out, I was like, ‘okay maybe it’s just a one-time thing.’ But it’s not a one-time thing. Definitely not. And I just like...don’t understand why he isn’t talking about it? Why is he trying to pretend its no big deal? It’s obviously a big deal.”

Alex desperately wished he could go back in time and take Willie up on his offer to spend the night tonight if only to be able to avoid this uncomfortable word vomit that Reggie didn’t seem capable of stopping. If there was ever a can of worms that didn’t need to be opened, it was this one, focused on Luke’s love life and his interactions with Julie, and what all of that meant in the grand scheme of things. Alex did not have the time or patience to truly get into this right now, he really didn’t. Except Reggie was looking at him so expectantly, as if Alex would reach into his fanny pack and pull out a booklet of answers, and so he also couldn’t just leave the poor guy to obsess alone.

“Okay, so we’re gonna do this, yeah? We’re gonna talk about it? Lemme...lemme just like get some sweats on and make some dinner, okay?”

Reggie let out a deep breath that Alex hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Yeah. Yeah, whatever you need, Lex.”

Alex didn’t dawdle. This was not a conversation that was going to go away or be dismissed. Reggie needed to talk it out, and honestly, now that he thought about it, Alex kind of did, too. And not to someone like Willie who would grin and say, “can’t stop true love hot dog, gotta let them ride that wave and figure out if they’re gonna sink or swim on their own” and act all blasé about it. He needed to talk about it with someone like Reggie who, just like Alex, was in the unique position of being friends with Flynn and Carrie (which meant knowing just enough about Julie to have an idea of exactly why she would be so appealing to Luke) as well as being one of Luke’s brothers (which meant knowing him better than he knew himself sometimes). Together, they might be able to figure out if the two would be like oil and water or more like fire and gasoline. Reggie was the only person who could have that kind of discussion with him, so yeah, they were doing this.

Alex made quick work of cleaning off in the shower and switching his work clothes for sweatpants and an oversized hoodie. Reggie was still waiting on the couch, staring at the tv but not actually watching whatever was playing out on the 32-inch screen. He had managed to change out of his clothes and into some Star Wars themed pajamas though. Alex skirted around the couch edge so he could press a quick, reassuring hand against Reggie’s scalp as he made his way into the kitchen. Reggie’s eyes moved away from the screen to track his movements. Alex might be the one with anxiety, but Reggie needed more reassurance when it came to things that might end with his family falling apart in one way or another. Alex wasn’t about to let him get so worked up that he convinced himself this would be catalyst that ruined everything.

“Honestly, Reg, what are we even supposed to do here? You know he’s gonna keep seeing her no matter what we say.”

Alex tried to open the conversation gently, eyes fixed on his bowl as it revolved in circles inside the microwave. Reggie didn’t answer at first, not until the beep of Alex’s food being finished rang out in the small apartment. When he did speak, he sounded partly apologetic and partly resigned.

“I don’t know. I know I probably should have said something after last week but...he just seemed so happy. I didn’t wanna mess it up for him. But last night was weird and it didn’t feel good. I’m worried Luke’s on a one-way path to destruction and I don’t know if it’s gonna be because of Julie or because of Flynn.”

Alex tried not to let his face fall into his freshly warmed bowl of pasta as he pulled it from the microwave. He really, really did not want to think about the ways that Flynn would rip Luke to shreds when she found out what had been going on behind her back. He had learned two things about the pint-sized firecracker in the year or so that he had known her: don’t mess with Carrie and don’t mess with Julie. Luke had already kinda fucked up on one of those counts. He wasn’t super thrilled thinking about what her reaction might be when she discovered he had been messing around with the second one, and in a much bigger way, too. He turned to face Reggie, forced himself to soften his own anxiety when he caught sight of the nerves etched out in harsh lines across the bassist’s forehead. Deep breath in, deep breath out just like his therapist had taught him.

“Flynn is gonna react however she’s gonna react. We can’t control that. She’s gonna have Julie’s back no matter what so all we can do is watch out for Luke.”

Reggie was nodding along in agreement, features smoothing out now that there was something of a plan for him to follow. Alex swung himself onto a barstool, bowl in front of him as his mind turned over and over all the millions of ways this thing between Julie and Luke could go south. Reggie moved off of the couch, hesitating for just a moment before he walked over to lean against the island in the kitchen where Alex was doing his best not to spiral.

“I think he likes her. Like...like likes her.”

Reggie’s voice was quiet, like he was sharing some secret he had been sworn to silence over. Alex turned to look at him again, not entirely sure he wanted to believe it.

“Dude, we’re not in middle school. You hook up with people all the time and it never means more than a night of shared passion. Luke can do the same thing.”

The look Reggie leveled his way was nothing short of disbelieving, eyebrows raised so high they had practically disappeared into his hairline. Alex kinda had to hand it to him there. He didn’t really believe Luke actually could pull off a casual relationship, especially not with a girl like Julie who probably set every single one of his musical nerve endings on high alert. Reggie and Luke weren’t the same in that manner. Reggie wanted to give love and receive it in turn without any reservations or worries about the intent behind it. Just two people meeting in a mutually beneficial exchange and then moving on with their lives to find that again with someone else. Luke’s love was deliberate, a commitment. There was no way whatever he was doing was casual.

“Okay, okay. Put the eyebrows away already.”

Reggie’s face relaxed into something less concerned and more exhausted. Alex felt that all the way to the depths of his soul. Generally speaking, Luke was pretty exhausting. And he was even more exhausting when he wasn’t taking care of himself in order to take care of someone else, in this case: Julie. Alex scooped up his bowl of pasta and tucked an arm around Reggie’s shoulders, guiding both of them to the couch. The tv was still playing something Alex couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to, but the low hum of voices in the background made the apartment feel a little less cold and quiet. Alex shoveled a bite of pasta into his mouth, chewing slowly and deliberately before he turned to face Reggie once more.

“Look, we don’t actually have any control over any of this shit. We know how Luke is, and we kinda know what’s up with Julie, but we can’t stop them from interacting or scare them off from each other. As much as it sucks, I think we gotta just ride this one out. And if Luke gets hurt, we’ll be here to patch him up and love him through it.”

Alex blinked in surprise, not actually sure those words had just come out of his mouth. By the way Reggie was studying him, he wasn’t sure the other boy could believe it either. Then, Reggie’s lips curved into a knowing smirk.

“Willie’s been rubbing off on you. All that therapy and go with the flow shit. You’re like a whole new drummer boy.”

Alex guffawed and reached over to shove Reggie playfully, being sure to keep his now empty bowl clear of the scuffle. Reggie ducked around his outstretched arm, sneaking under to poke at Alex’s side in a way that had him twisting and nearly falling off the couch.

“Jeez, Uncle, Uncle! Fuckin hell, man, no need to go straight for the tickle spots.”

Reggie huffed out a laugh, collapsing back into the couch next to Alex. They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, the only sound the canned laughter and predictable lines of the tv show.

“Hey, Lex?”

Alex hummed and rolled his head to meet Reggie’s eyes.

“Do you ever wish you just like...didn’t care so much about everything?”

Alex’s laugh echoed above the sound of the tv. He leaned into Reggie’s side, letting the familiar comfort wash over him.

“All the time, Reg. Literally, all the fucking time.”

[justafewsmallsteps]

Happy InuKag Week 2020, Day 6! It’s been literal years, but here’s finally Part 2 of The Problem With Thinking, my Inuyasha High School AU. Lots of love going out to @coquinespike for all the encouragement. Thanks for your patience! It’d probably be better to reread Part 1 (no big edits, but because it’s been SO LONG) but honestly it’s not a huge deal if you don’t. Lots of fluff.  I’m sorry I can only offer the same bland AU over and over. Please forgive me and leave comments in the notes anyways? 

So the fight was officially over and now they stood there holding each other. It was so intimate that it made the tips of his ears feel hot with embarrassment. Hard to believe that just this morning he was still avoiding her, yet now she was practically molded up against him, and there wasn’t a single part of him that wanted her to move away.

He was hyper aware that Kagome was so very close—closer than she’d ever been before.  It was new territory. With their reconciliation, the bridge he thought he’d burn reassembled itself anew, and they’d crossed a line somewhere. What line, he couldn’t be sure.

A new burning filled Inuyasha’s chest, a fire that wanted to engulf her entirely. He’d missed her so much, and being away from her had drained him like a dying battery. He’d felt so tired, so void of any energy or drive, so… lonely. Now she was here, right here, and his whole body was thrumming with the desire to grab her tightly and hold on, to bask in her warm presence like a spring field finally coming out of winter’s harsh cold.

He saw the same look of longing reflected in her eyes. They were magnets kept apart until now.

He forced himself to speak, though his heavy tongue and heart protested the words as he spoke, “I should get you home.”

The sky was getting darker by the second. Her house was just down the street, but he’d worry too much if he let her go by herself. Besides, it was an excuse to stay by her side for a while longer.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”she asked with a hurt tone.

“What? No!” Inuyasha yelped. The opposite! He coughed and looked off to the side. There was no decent way to explain how he was afraid that the more she stayed by him, the harder it would become to let her go even though they only lived a block apart. He’d cut her off so thoroughly from his life, and now he realized it was like denying himself oxygen. How had he survived?

“Inuyasha?” She gripped his hands again to pull him from his thoughts.

“Huh?” he noised dumbly.

“C-can I…” Kagome wracked her short-circuiting brain for an excuse, any excuse to stay longer. “I don’t want to go home looking like this.”

“What?” You look fine, he thought.

She bit her lip. “Since my face is all puffy and my eyes are red. I don’t want Mama or Jii-chan to worry.”

“O-oh. You… Do you want to come up?” His eyes suddenly opened wide. “Not if you’re uncomfortable with that! I could get you a… wet towel or something.”

“It's okay. I’m fine with going up.” Kagome fought a blush.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded firmly, if only to keep from jumping up and down in glee. Success! How obvious would that be?

He replied with a stiff nod back. He swiftly turned around, dropping one hand from her grip but holding on with the other to lead her into the building. Their palms and fingers felt as if they’d fused together like hot glass. It was weird to imagine they’d have to come apart anytime soon.

As they walked past the metal gate and into the complex, Kagome’s eyes wandered to drink in the unfamiliar territory, but also to keep occupied. There was a tension in the air—some shy but persistent heat that sealed their mouths shut. Inuyasha was looking straight ahead avoiding looking at her, but she couldn’t bring herself to do much differently than him. The fact loomed upon them: they were going to be in his apartment… alone. It was very new for them, and they’d only just gotten their problems solved. Her heart raced. She’d just found out she was in love with him. Maybe asking to come up was a bad idea.

Before she could think else of it, Inuyasha finished turning the key to his door. It opened with a small push, sending her stomach to do a cartwheel. The darkness inside fed her curiosity despite her nerves. She followed him in as the lights flickered on. Humble. Quiet.

It’s not like he has anyone to greet, she remembered. There weren’t decorations or frills—just the basic necessities.

Kagome removed her shoes, noticing how awkward it felt to do so with one free hand. Still, she had no intention of letting go.

“Uh, the… bathroom is over there.” Inuyasha gave a directional head gesture that had his ears twitch. “Is there anything you need?”

Her eyes dropped down to their locked hands. With a strange sense of concentration, she loosened her grip—at least she thought she did. It didn’t budge.

“Oh.” Inuyasha noticed the problem.

A voice yelled in his head. You’re an idiot. You can’t follow her in there! Let go!

With the care and hesitation of unwrapping a bandage, he moved his fingers to uncurl from hers. It felt like pulling apart linked chains. Their palms slid past each other, fingers sweeping to the tips. He would have let it go, but the slightest hint of uncertain, lingering pressure from Kagome had him stop in his tracks.

They froze. His eyes flickered to her blushing face, and he felt her fingertips squeeze his.

“In—“

The next second he yanked her close—his earlier desire to do so finally sated. He grasped the back of her head while his other hand wrapped around her wrist. Her contact against him felt like finally gulping air after drowning.

“Inuyasha?” the girl gasped.

Shit. He’d acted on instinct when he grabbed her. He had no idea what to say, and he felt the embarrassment bubble fast to the surface. She felt nice though, and he couldn’t deny that.  

Kagome’s face pressed against Inuyasha’s chest, her mind drawing blanks as her cheek felt the heat of his skin beneath his T-shirt. His heart was racing, just like hers. It was reassuring.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. He shifted the hand in her hair, letting the smell of lavender shampoo and Kagome’s natural scent fill his home.

Kagome’s free hand came up to hold him back gently, and she realized she’d been aching to do this since she laid eyes on him: to hold him in her arms, to pour out her affection, to be close.

“It’s fine,” she whispered, running her palm soothingly up and down a short length.

Inuyasha reflexively pushed her closer in an attempt to keep from shivering at her touch.

Her heart was still beating rapidly. How else was she supposed to feel when the boy she loved was hugging her so sweetly? It took a while, but after a few moments of silence, Kagome relaxed enough to speak.

“Inuyasha?” She squeezed him a little, somehow already comfortable with touching him so intimately. Funny, but it just felt right being close to him.

“Hm?”

She allowed herself to sink against his body, letting him hold up more of her weight. “Have you been doing all your homework?” It was a familiar question, bringing a sense of normalcy back to their dynamic.

“Uh…” he hesitated.

“Inuyasha…”

“I’ve been doing enough,” he responded vaguely. It was the truth, but he knew she wouldn’t like the answer.

Kagome clicked her tongue in disapproval. “That sounds like you’ve been slacking…”

“I got lazy without your naggin’.” Lazy. Frustrated. Uninspired. Angry. Depressed. Who was he kidding? When he wasn’t moping around he was trying his best not to punch walls.  

The girl sighed. “I’ve been distracted too, so I’m not one to talk… Though I’m going to blame that on you.”

He scoffed, but the sound was soft. “You gettin’ all worked up over me…” Never mind that he’d been the same.

She poked him in the shoulder blade and dug her finger into it as a small jab. “Don’t be a jerk. I missed you a lot, dummy. I wouldn’t be here otherwise, looking like a total mess.”

In seriousness, he apologized. “I’m sorry.”

The sincerity of it brought tears rushing to her eyes so quickly she was defenseless against them. She was completely caught off guard, but if he was going to be that honest then she’d follow suit.

“Don’t do that to me again,” she had to whisper in a rush to keep her voice from faltering. If it sounded like a plea instead of a reprimand, there was nothing she could do about it.

“I won’t,” he swore. “I… please don’t cry Kagome. I can’t stand it. You know that. I don’t know what to do.”

“Just don’t be an idiot again.”

He held his tongue and let her calm down. His hand kept rubbing soothing circles against her back.

“Were you eating properly?” She finally sniffled with a frown.  

“I ate. Not what you’d call ‘properly’ though.”

“You can’t just have three packs of ramen when you get home from school.”

“I can and definitely did.”

Again, she sighed. “We should go to the grocery store together. And I need to teach you how to actually cook.”

“I can fend for myself fine,” he retorted. After a beat he added, “But if you want to come over and make food, I’m not going to stop you.”

“I’d cook for you everyday if only to keep you from high blood pressure.” She pulled away in time to catch the shock on his face, and realized then that her words sounded like a proposal, like she could commit to taking care of him for the rest of her life. She felt mortified. It was too close to a confession!

“You would?” Inuyasha felt embarrassment splash him in the face like cold water.

“No! I mean, yes, but I didn’t mean that I…  you… you know? I just want you to eat balanced meals! That’s all I meant, okay?”

Normally he would retort her sweet sentiment with something brash. He was marvelously good at ruining the moment. Instead he was frozen, looking at the girl in front of him with affection seizing his whole being like lightning, strong and inescapable. He was helpless as it coursed through every nerve in his body.

His silence had Kagome fidgeting.

“Inuyasha?”  

He couldn’t move. He opened his mouth and closed it repeatedly, no words forming whatsoever like a dumb fish gaping for food. The idea of Kagome cooking him a meal… of her setting down plates, of her coming home to him… every day for the rest of his life…

The girl’s cheeks flared indignantly at his lack of response; heart thrumming nervously because it wasn’t a true confession, but it had the tone of something so much more—something akin to promising forever. She couldn’t take his surprised expression locked onto her so intensely, so she shoved her face into his shirt to avoid his gaze. Her hands gripped at his sleeves. She shook his arms hoping for a reaction and cried out, “Don’t just stand there staring at me! You have to say something, you dummy!”

He really should say something, he knew, but nothing was coming to his head. Nothing except Kagome, over and over again. Her in his kitchen, her walking down the road by his side, her eating meals with him everyday… When she told him to let her stay by his side, Inuyasha didn’t consider the actual depth of it. He’d simply taken it at face value. If she wanted to be around him, she’d decide that. The thought of her being there for him daily triggered something heavy to lock itself into place. It felt like she’d smacked an old machine and the gears finally fit themselves together. The realization came to him then.

He was in love with her.

Kagome felt his hold on her slacken. “Inuyasha?” she tried again, with a miserable tone to her voice. She was still mortified.  

He released his steady hold on her wrist. Then he pried her hand gently away from his shirt, slowly easing his fingers between hers. The action was enough to get her to pull herself back. He’d never been very tender before.

His gaze was molten hot against hers, burning maybe, but she was caught in it like sweet, sticky honey. Her chest panged with how much she loved him. Couldn’t she just… reach up and show him? She tightened her fingers entwined with his. God, that felt so right. Her hand belonged in his.

“Kagome…” Her name was meant for his mouth.

Oh, he was so attractive, and she’d missed him so much. If she could somehow wrap herself up in him she would. His tentative grip firmed, lifting her hand closer. Her eyelids lowered while the rest of her body tilted up, up, and towards him.

Inuyasha was enamored. His entire world was swirling around Kagome as if she was the center of the universe. She very well might be, with him caught in her gravitational pull. He closed his eyes and saw black—and then he saw a star; faint and twinkling behind his eyelids, like the uncertain pressure lingering sweetly against his lips.

Then it was gone.

Slightly dazed, he opened his eyes to a blushing Kagome shying back from her kiss. Damn if he didn’t want to pull her to him again. A ‘wait, come back,’ on the edge of his tongue.

As if asking for permission, Kagome tugged at his sleeve and steadied her gaze on his mouth. He wanted to smile at her obvious signals, but a prick of paranoia had him stop her from moving towards him.

“Wait…” He watched as her courage was drained from her face and tried quickly to assure her. “It’s not that I don’t want to, I… I didn’t mean for this to happen when I asked you up, you know.”

“I know that,” she responded earnestly.

“Right…” he turned to look at the floor, trying to sift through his clouding thoughts gathering and darkening like a storm.

“So what’s the problem?”

“I mean, you know. That stuff,”

“The ‘stuff’ that people who don’t know anything say?” she asked.

“Well they ain’t that off if we keep at it,” he replied dryly, but there was a blush on his face. He’s just been kissed by Kagome Higurashi, the most beautiful, wonderful girl in the world. She would’ve done it again if he hadn’t held her back.

“Look, I don’t care. This is what I want. Do you…” she bit her lip unsurely and his knees almost buckled in, “Do you want this?”

Do you want me? Her eyes, clear and bright as a mid-summer day, seemed to ask him.

“Of course I do…” he confessed. There was more he wanted to say on the matter, or rather, more doubts that wouldn’t stop surfacing, but in the next moment Kagome had her mouth back on his, pushing his thoughts down to drown. He let them die there. Instead he let his world become so full of her that nothing else fit, and he’d never felt more put together than he was now, overflowing with her.

Kissing Inuyasha was something she’d dreamt about a lot lately, but not a fantasy she’d thought would come to fruition. It was different than she’d imagined, her body awkwardly stiff yet her heart soaring.

Attached, was the first word that came to Kagome’s mind.

That was how people described how Kagome felt about Inuyasha. She was fond of him. She had a soft spot for him. She was irrevocably and inexplicably attached to him. Now that they were kissing, she uncovered a new sense of meaning to that word. She’d been so attached to him that his absence felt like pulling her seams apart. Kissing him now was sewing them back together, but she still wanted to be closer. She stretched up on her feet higher, pressing her lips harder against his. Her goal was more, but of what, she wasn’t sure. More Inuyasha, somehow, in any and every capacity seemed to be the only answer. Her hands moved up his arms, slowly feeling the worn fabric of his shirt beneath her palms. Her cheeks flared with a new blush feeling the muscles beneath. She wasn’t just attached; she was attracted; she was in love. She loved him so much that it burned from her lungs to her lips.

Their mouths parted, and he huffed her name into the hot air between them. It was a match that set her ablaze. She intended to engulf him, so she kissed him harder. She wrapped her arms around the boy’s neck and drew him in close to her, wobbling between standing on her toes and back onto her heels.  

Sensing her imbalance, Inuyasha tugged her by the waist to steady them both, but it had searing consequences as her body pressed into his. He heard her react with a sharp inhale and he hissed in response to her. So this is what happened when you got close to the sun, huh? He wasn’t melting, but he was burning everywhere they touched, and she scorched her way through him like a wildfire. They were moving so quickly his mind was whirling.

Kagome tilted her head, and Inuyasha felt the foreign sensation of her wet tongue swiping against his lip.

“Holy shit,” he cursed, and Kagome immediately pulled back startled.

“Sorry! I don’t—”

“No, it’s fine,” he muttered with winded effort. He took a moment to breathe, noticing Kagome’s chest similarly took deep rises and falls. The reality of what had just occurred between them settled in his mind. He wasn’t sure what to do next, but he wanted to continue.

“Was I… Did I go too fast or do something wrong?” She sounded so out of breath that his head spun.

“’Course you did nothing wrong,” he whined, putting his face in his hand and closing his eyes. He was more turned on than he’d ever imagined possible, and it was making him dizzy. “Just surprised me there.”

“Oh,” Kagome finally squeaked in response. She self-consciously folded in one herself.

He peaked through his fingers at the girl only to see her looking shyly down at the ground. Her kissed lips were set in a puffy little pout and her cheeks were a warm pink. Inuyasha groaned. She was beautiful and he was such a sap for her.

He was devastatingly in love with her. And he kissed her! And she kissed him back! And more!

He was having a hard time believing this was real.

“Maybe we did go kinda fast,” he admitted. He just couldn’t wrap his head around this whole thing. When did his life make a 180? Was he dreaming? When did his dreams ever get this good?

“Sorry,” Kagome mumbled.

Inuyasha sighed and lowered his hand. “Quit apologizing.” He tucked his finger under her chin to get him to look at her,  but found the vulnerability behind her eyes almost too much to bear. He swallowed to fight the blush staining his face. “Just… gimme a sec, okay?”

Kagome nodded into his hand. He moved his face forward and pressed his forehead against hers, feeling her heat radiate against his skin. She was too much for him, he knew. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself down—mind and body. He felt Kagome do the same, slowly relaxing into regular breaths.

This is real…

Delicately shifting, he pressed his lips to hers again, feeling her seize and then press into him. The awkwardness set back in, but they pushed through it and felt it out until it slowly melted away. He felt her exhales as sweet, warm puffs of air. They stayed like that for a while until Inuyasha took his hand and slid it to hold her cheek. He opened his mouth slightly and tilted his head to deepen their kiss. Kagome followed suit, letting him set the pace. They kept going, pushing lips together, adjusting, readjusting, and getting comfortable.

He felt her adorable eager little jump as he pulled her face closer, her hand coming up to grasp his shirt in a steadying motion. It was a swift pump to his ego to know she wanted this and was probably holding back.

He was getting turned on all over again, but it wasn’t as sudden as before. He took his time adjusting to each step forward, but Kagome didn’t make it all that easy with little gasps and the sweetest taste he’d ever experienced.

He’d always thought kissing was a gross concept. He wasn’t keen on saliva or using tongues, but the instant he felt hers on his lips he was convinced it was more than okay. Sure, it shocked him, but it felt good. Too good, at that moment, but now… Now he enjoyed the slight pressure of her sucking on his bottom lip, and the tease of her teeth as she did so. He enjoyed doing the same, shocking sensations prickling his spine with each new discovery. She was infinitely patient and understanding, letting him set their pace, and following suit.

Tentatively, Inuyasha sucked in a breath and dared to sweep his tongue against Kagome’s lips. He felt her eagerly part her mouth, inviting him to try again. This time he had taken the lead, but tremors still passed through his body as he tasted her, yet he was determined for more. She moved her arms up to wrap around his neck and pull him down. She must have been standing on her toes for a long time, he remembered. Kagome was petite, and he was over a foot taller if he stood up straight.

Ideas flash in his mind—making out on the floor, on a couch, him lifting her up to the counter… Oh damn. So much for calming down.

He grabbed her hips and moved her back just a bit, away from his lower body. It was achingly difficult to do so, since every part of him was screaming for contact with her.

She broke their kiss with a gasp.

“I should maybe think about getting home soon.”

A little more than dazed, Inuyasha did his best to recalibrate his brain. He felt the blood slowly making its way back there, but for now all his thoughts were hazy. Kagome. Home. Her house.

“Right…”

“And I should also still wash up my face.”

“Right…”

She giggled then, likely because he was still in a hormone-induced stupor. “I’ll be right back,” she assured him with a quick kiss to his cheek that left him feeling tingly. Then she was off to his bathroom.

As the door clicked shut and the buzzing sound of the restroom light came on, Inuyasha blinked himself back to reality. And it hit him hard enough that he had to sit down. He replayed the whole night in his head, wondering how the hell he’d gotten to this point. It was another miserable Friday punctuating a shitty week of dodging her at school. He got home feeling like garbage, only appreciating the weekend as a reprieve from having Kagome’s scent peppered in the air of the hallways and classrooms. His apartment was the one place he could lock himself away and not be haunted by her. But then the buzz came from the gate, and then her broken voice pleaded through the phone.

He came down just to end it once and for all. No more texts. He’d just have to scare her off and be done with it, but she was stubborn. She’d never let him push her around, so why did he expect her to let him push her away without a fight? She clung to him, dug into him, broke his resolve with her sad and angry tears. She’d missed him too. What did he do to deserve her?

A whine pushed its way past his throat, just in time for Kagome to walk out of the bathroom and shoot him a concerned look.

“You okay?”

It was weird, seeing her in his apartment like this, so casually as if she belonged there. She did, as far as he was concerned.

Filled with a new sense of determination and longing, he stood up resolutely and made his way to her. Before she could ask another question, he scooped her up in his arms and kissed her fully on the mouth. She gave an initial squeak of shock, but quickly accepted the new position, once again putting her arms around him.

“I missed you,” he admitted quickly before his unfounded resolve melted away.

“I just washed my face,” she teased as he lowered her back to her feet.

Incredulous he stammered, “That’s not what I—!”

“I know,” she interrupted. Kagome smiled, and Inuyasha’s annoyance vanished. “You don’t have to miss me anymore.”

[starrenorth]

Here comes a short description of my fic When kids grow up and a preview of chapter one:

The haikyuu boys have grown up into adults and are enjoying the family bliss with their teenage kids. However, it is well known that when teenagers start their journey into adulthood, life can turn quite chaotic and troublesome for everyone involved...

Chapters: 7/?

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Underage

Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou, Tendou Satori/Ushijima Wakatoshi, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi, Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu, Shimizu Kiyoko/Tanaka Ryuunosuke, Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei

Characters: Iwaizumi Hajime, Oikawa Tooru, Akaashi Keiji, Bokuto Koutarou, Kozume Kenma, Kuroo Tetsurou, Sawamura Daichi, Sugawara Koushi, Miya Atsumu, Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Osamu, Suna Rintarou, Tendou Satori, Ushijima Wakatoshi, Hinata Shouyou, Kageyama Tobio, Tsukishima Kei, Yamaguchi Tadashi, Azumane Asahi, Nishinoya Yuu, Terushima Yuuji, Hanamaki Takahiro, Matsukawa Issei

Additional Tags: Family, Family Fluff, Family Drama, Parenthood, Post-Time Skip, Family Dynamics, Teen Angst, Teenage Drama, Rival Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Underage Drinking, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Established Relationship, Mild Sexual Content, Mild Language, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Parents, Marriage, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Married Couple, Married Life, Teenagers, Teen Romance

Series: Part 1 of the chaotic life of the Haikyuu boys and their teenage kids.

Chapter 1 - summary: 

- Iwaizumi Eiko is secretly dating Ushijima Ryouta, the son of her father´s most despised rival, behind her fathers' backs.

Eiko couldn’t help but admire how cute her boyfriend looked where he sat moping. She crawled over to him and took his face in her hands. “Ushiiii” she cooed again, nudging his nose playfully with hers. “Pleeease?” And when she placed a kiss at the corner of his mouth, his resistance melted away quicker than snow on a hot day. And before she knew it, he was laying on top of her, their lips pressed together.

“You´re so damn beautiful, you know that?” Ryouta murmured, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Oh I know,” Eiko answered shamelessly.

An amused chuckle found its way out of Ryouta´s throat. “No need for me to say it then it seems.”

Smiling, she tilted her head and blinked innocently at him with her lashes. “What? Did you expect me to argue against you? Thank you for stating the obvious?”

Laughing, Ryouta gazed down at Eiko in complete awe. “So this is what you get for trying to show your girlfriend some appreciation. Remind me to never try and compliment you again.”

She smirked. “Don´t get me wrong – I appreciate your sweet words. I´m just reminding you that I do not need them to know that I´m fucking gorgeous.”

“Wow princess. You have rendered me speechless.”

“In the words of my sometimes very wise father: ´Never let anyone but yourself determine your worth, especially if that person is an Ushijima´.”

“Very wise indeed,” Ryouta chimed in cheekily. “And has he said anything about dating one then?”

Eiko grinned sheepishly at him, eyes sparkling mischievously. “No. But I´m pretty confident in what he would say.

“You know princess, judging by that expression of yours, I´d almost dare say that you´re only using me so you can piss off your father the day he gets on your nerves,” he said smirking.

“My father gets on my nerves often. And when he does, I simply tell him that I´m considering transferring to Shiratorisawa and he will ignore me for a whole day. So there´s really no need for me to tell him about you…yet anyways.”

“And when will you?” he asked jokingly, but the sincerity in his question shone through nonetheless. This was not the first time he had brought it up.

“Tell me Ryo, do you have a death wish or something?” Eiko laughed half-nervously. “Or do you just want to make it official so you can brag to your father that you managed to secure an Oikawa?”

Knowing that this conversation wouldn’t lead anywhere, Ryouta just gave Eiko a lazy smile and continued to kiss her. But when the sound of a door suddenly being slammed open rumbled through the house, they both froze.

“Shit!” Eiko swore through clenched teeth as the distant bickering of two familiar male voices reached their ears.  She quickly pushed Ryota off her. “My dads. You need to get out!”

“Get out?! But my shoes are downstairs.”

“That is the least of your concern right now!” she spat out. “I´ll bring them to school tomorrow.”

“Are you fucking kidding me!?”

“No, get out before my father storms in here.”

“Doesn’t he knock? Can´t you just tell him not to walk in? That you’ll be down in a second?”

“You clearly don’t know my father very well.”

“And who´s fault is that?” he said, narrowing his eyebrows accusingly at her.

“We´re not having this conversation now. Hurry up and get out before he finds us in here and kills us both!”

“But how?!”

“Through the window.”

He glared at her discontentedly, eyebrows raised high in his forehead. “The window? Really Eiko?”

Panic rose in Eiko´s chest as the humming sound from her father closed in as he ascended the stairs.

“Yes, the window! Are you deaf Ushiwaka? Get out!”

Ryouta gave her a displeased look but realized that this wasn’t the right time to argue.

“You owe me for this Princess,” Ryouta said as she roughly heaved him out on the roof.

“Yeah yeah,” she agreed before quickly shutting the window after him. The moment after her door shot open with a loud bang.

“Yoohooo! Guess who´s back home! and we brought dinner!”

Her father, Iwaizumi Tooru, former Oikawa, stood in the opening with two plastic bags in either hand and a big smile on his face.

“I thought you were going to eat out tonight?” Eiko said trying not to sound as if her heart was about to jump out of her chest.

“We were,” her father´s mirthful voice rang. He put his hand behind his head and grinned sheepishly. “But I may have mixed up the dates, so your dad is not very happy with me right now. And sure, I can understand why he would be upset, but you should have heard the rude things he said to me! And he continued to lecture me all the way home – even after we had picked up food at Momoya´s instead, which If you ask me is better anyways.”

Eiko had no problem at all imagining the words her father Hajime must have used. After all these years, she had probably heard them all. “Sounds well-deserved if you ask me. Dad had been looking forward to that date you know.”

“Ei-chan! And here I thought that you, my sweet and perfect daughter would take my side. But you´re just as cold-hearted and judgmental as your father.” He answered with a pout.

Eiko stared at her father and shook her head in disbelief at how a man of forty-five could act so childish. Probably because he still denied the fact that he was growing old, arguing that he was `no more than twenty-five in mind. ´ More like fifteen if you asked her. But to be perfectly honest, more often than less she enjoyed her father´s youthful spirit. Because although he could be a bit overbearing at times, there was nothing she couldn’t talk to him about. Or well, almost at least – Ryouta was the exception to the rule, but for obvious reasons. There was no other man that his father despised as much as Ushijima Wakatoshi, so she knew that he would not take the news about her and Ryouta dating well. Which was stupid, because besides his physique and talent for volleyball Ryouta was nothing like his stoic and blunt father Wakatoshi.

Thinking about her boyfriend, Eiko´s thoughts wandered back to the fact that she actually had forced him out of her window. And she suddenly felt incredibly annoyed with her father. Had he known some boundaries, Ryouta could have hidden in her room until they had gone to bed, but no. He had just stormed into her room like a pompous king with no regard of what she might have been doing.

“Hey Ei-chan, what´s up with that cross look on your face right now? You will get wrinkles like Iwa-chan if you keep furrowing your eyebrows like that. And that´s not cute at all. Although, your dad is still the second most handsome man in the world, after me of course.”

Normally, Eiko didn’t mind her father´s presumptuous comments, mostly because her own utterances tended to have a similar nature, but right now – already stressed and irritated – she couldn’t help her annoyance from spilling out: “Have you ever thought about knocking papi?”

“Knocking?” he asked, eyebrows raised in both surprise and confusion before his face formed an amused expression. “Tell me Ei-chan, why would you suddenly want me to knock? Got something you wish to hide from me?” he added with a wink.

She crossed her arms defiantly. “No, but some privacy would be nice once in a while.”

Tooru´s eyes narrowed slightly at that and when he eyed her suspiciously Eiko remembered just how intimidating her otherwise childish father could be. “Privacy you say…so there is something you´re trying to hi-”

Luckily for Eiko, her father did not have the time to finish his sentence before a darker and rougher voice cut him off: “Oi, are you bullying my daughter again shittykawa?” Her father Iwaizumi Hajime appeared in the doorway; a small grin visible on his face.

[violetnotez]

Actions Are Louder Than Words- Pro Hero! Deku x Reader

So Im currently StruGgling through a Bakugo fic rn, which Im so mad about...so here’s  a quick Deku rewrite of mine until I post that fic!

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 2500+

Warnings: mentions of wounds

Summary: Izuku comes to your home mysteriously one night, injured and in his hero suit- and you’re the only one who can fix him up.

One Shot

(RULES |  MASTERLIST| REQUESTS OPEN!!! :))

For some reason, your room was extremely hot.

It made sense, in the middle of July, but you hated it. Your clothes stuck to your body like glue, making every movement feel sticky and humid.

You had decided to go to sleep at a late time, hoping that maybe when the sun went down, the coolness of night would suppress itself into your room.

You had opened up your window just a little to help with that, which brought the sounds of the city to your room. You were on the 4th level of your apartment complex, so the sounds weren’t so loud that you couldn’t stand it. You looked out, feeling a luke warm breeze, imagining your best friend, Izuku Midoriya, doing his daily hero rounds, that infectiously warm grin plastered on his face. You smiled to yourself.You secretly loved Izuku, every since he told you about One For All. The fact he trusted you with something so important, and finding out he was the one doing all those good deeds pushed your over the edge. You had began to like him before that moment, because of his sweet and respectful demeanor (not to mention he was extremely attractive), but you were in the awkward of stage of where you didn’t know where your heart stood. But now, it knew exactly where it wanted to be: standing next to Izuku.

You sighed, feeling reality sink in. Izuku would never go out with you, you thought.  Izuku was too good for you- you were his loyal best friend, nothing more, nothing less.

This thought made your chest throb, but you would get over heartache. You always did. 

You left the window open, the curtains billowing slightly in the warm breeze. You crawled into your sheets, feeling the soft cool of the material, knowing that they would soon turn warm due to your body heat. You thought, drowsy from staying up so late now,  that it would be best to go to sleep soon, and with that, a wave of slumber took over your body.

You felt as if you had slept for 10 minutes when you abruptly woke up to a loud crash in your room. You jumped up in your bed, feeling your shirt sleeve slip down from your sleep sluggish body. You looked around for the source of the noise, fear clawing your stomach in an iron grip. You almost screamed, but your throat closed in from terror. There was a dark outline of a body on the floor, looking like it jumped into your room from the open window. You stared at it, not believing what had just happened. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness, hearing the cars below you honk and the engines whir. 

You began spotting details: a gloved hand, red boots, teal fabric… “Deku?” You asked thickly, your voice sounding groggy from your nap.

The body pushed itself off the floor, laying itself against your dresser.The person sighed in relief, looking at you with huge eyes that glinted in the street’s warm light from below.

“Hi y/n,” the person chuckled nervously, the voice immediately soundly like Midoriya when he was flustered.

You heard a grimace in his voice as he grabbed his side.“Izuku!? Are you okay!?” you asked in shock, feeling way more awake than before. This was one of your worst fears- him getting hurt. It was bound to happen, with all the shady characters he’s always fighting, but you couldn’t bear the thought of Izuku getting attacked- or worse.

“Yeah Im fine- just- mmph- got a little scratch, nothing bad, Im fine...please don’t worry-.”

You jumped up , tearing the sheets away from you. You crouched next to Izuku, seeing the light scratches littering his face, illuminated from the streetlights below.

“If you were fine, you wouldnt be in my room.” you replied with a sad smile, trying to keep your voice down in order to not wake up your neighbors.

You freaked out inside- Izuku Midoriya was in your room, hurt, but in full hero gear. Izuku Midoriya. Had to be in your room. Your crush. You felt the heat rise in your face, cursing yourself for always acting like some love sick school girl around him.

“I’m sorry, you know I wouldn’t want to put you in any danger on purpose, its just I needed a quick escape, and I just saw that your window was open, so I-

”“Jumped  in?” you finished his sentence.

“Yeah- something like that,” he laughed quietly, looking slightly at the floor, but laughing seem to be too excruciating because he made another painful grunt.

“Izuku,” you pleaded, losing your weak joking manner, “what happened? Where are your hurt?”

“No, no, I’m fine!” he insisted, looking at you with fear, failing at convincing you.

You gave him a look that clearly showed you didnt believe a single thing that had just came out of his mouth.

“Izuku,” you told him sternly, “tell me. Please.”

“Im okay I swea-”

“I swear to God Izuku Mirdoriya if you say your ‘fine’, which your clearly not, I will call your mom.”

You knew the last person he wanted to drag into this was his mother, and you didn't want to either. She was a sweet woman, but extremely overprotective of Izuku, for all the right reasons. You knew Izuku didn’t want to worry her, and even though you felt a little guilty for being unable to tell his mom all the things she should probably know that happens to Midoriya, you couldn't bring yourself to break your unspoken promise. 

You didn’t want to play the “Mom” card on him, but you could tell Midoriya was in alot of pain- anything you could help him with, you were going to do it. Whether he admitted to it or not.

“No y/n, please,” Izuku said quickly, fear suffocating his voice. Guilt rose in your stomach, but you shoved it down as he asked, “you wouldn’t, right?”

“Izuku…” you sighed as you hugged your knees to yourself. You didnt want to- but there was a considerable difference between want and need.“You know I wouldn’t tell her unless I needed to- if your hurt only a little, we can fix it- but if you need medical attention, of course Im telling her. But for right now-if youll be quiet and let me help you-I wont say a word to her.” you added the last part as a slight joke, smiling so Izuku knew you weren’t trying to intentionally be mean.

 He chuckled, stating softly, “You always are the one that wants to fix me up.”

 “It’s what I do best,” you smiled.“Alrightie Deku-lets check the damage.”

 You quickly changed the subject, seeing that you had brought Izuku’s wall down and you could easily sneak in to get to what you needed to do.

Izuku sighed hesitantly, stilling holding his side. He raised his hand slowly, showing a cut in the side of his suit, the fabric fraying back. You gulped, suppressing panic, and this time, anger.Who could do this to Izuku? YOUR Izuku?

You quickly got up to reach for your nightstand, feeling Izuku’s eyes follow you. You grabbed your phone, bringing the flashlight to its brightest level. You were focused and nervous at the same time, your hands trembling at the thought of touching Midoriya.You sat back down in front of him, pointing the  light at his chest. You didn’t look at the angry gash across his chest, but at those big green eyes that somehow always make your heart stop beating.

“Is it-okay-if I….” you stumbled, nerves coming through thickly in your voice.

“Sure,” Midoriya replied an octave too high. He cleared his throat, trying again. “I mean-yeah yeah, go for it….”

You smiled to yourself, thinking how much of a cute dork Midoriya was, even when he was injured.

Even though Izuku was hurt, he could only focus on you. He felt comfortable with you, but extremely nervous. He never had a girl so close to him before, especially one he liked- the  “like like” kind. He hated himself for thinking it was a good idea coming into your room at 1 in the morning, dragging you into his problem, and the fact he was actually, in some ways, enjoying this- you giving him your full attention, the feeling of your hands brushing his skin- made him shiver in the best way possible.Your hand shook as you gingerly reached to pull back the ripped fabric on his chest, while the other held the flashlight as steady as you could.

“Tell me if I do anything to make it hurt, Kay?” You instructed. 

Izuku simply nodded, and you braced yourself for the worst.

Your expression was as if made of steel, determined and persistent.You gently drew the teal fabric away more , showing more skin. The slit of fabric was a clean one-it was hard to see what was under. All you could really make out was bruising and a cut-but couldn’t really assess the damage.

“I can’t see anything- the cut is too covered in the suit,” you exhaled as you moved away from Izuku, making him feel almost cold without your hand on his side.You looked at him, hoping he couldn’t see the red rising in your face. You had just thought of a solution to your problem, but didn’t know how Izuku would take it.

“So-I’m gonna grab a first aid kit- but I’m gonna need you to-um,” you cleared your throat, nerves coating your throat like a thick film, “I need to you to-take off.. the suit-“You wanted to kick yourself for actually saying this out loud. You sounded stupid! Asking him to take his suit off! This was too intimate, too weird for your relationship dynamic- but you secretly hated yourself more for wanting it to happen.

You panicked, trying to revise what you had just said, “You don’t have to take off the whole suit- just to your waist-you seriously don’t have to do this, I don’t even know why I said it, we could figure something else out-“

“I’ll do it,” He interjected quietly, looking straight at you, making your heart jump.

Izuku was terrified to say the least at the thought of showing his bare chest to you, but- he liked the feeling of your skin on his. It felt like such an adrenaline rush. He was intoxicated by the feeling- it was like everything was at peace with the world as his skin tingled with a charged energy he couldn't describe.

“It’s better if we do it like this,” he added, “If I have to go to a hospital, it’ll be all over the press tomorrow. I dont really care to see myself all beaten up on the news,” He smiled weakly, attempting at making the mood lighter so you wouldn't feel as nervous.. 

“Okay,” you exhaled, smiling back,  relieved Izuku didnt take anything you said the wrong way, “if you say so.”

You stood up, trying to avoid Izuku’s gaze.“I’m going to go get the first aid stuff, and you just-” You waved your hand around Izuku, motioning up and down at his body. “So- yeah,” you added in a nervous laugh, brushing your hair away from your face.

He smiled at your obvious flusteredness, grateful he wasn’t the only one.

Walking to your connected bathroom, your head swarmed with doubt.Maybe- this was a bad idea. Maybe he should go to the hospital- he could be really injured and you both would never know until it was too late. But… Izuku didn’t want anybody to know… and you promised you would help him until he needed actual medical attention. Worst comes to worst you could call All Might- he’d know what to do. Until then, you’d take care of Midoriya yourself.

You entered your bathroom, and rummaged in your cabinets until you found a white plastic case with a large red cross emblem on the front. You grabbed the handle, pulling it close to you and tiptoed out of the room, praying your neighbors didn’t hear you from the other side of the hallway.

Izuku was in the same position as you left him, except that his suit was gathered around his navel. You could make out Midoriya’s bare shoulder, a shadow in the dim glow of the streetlights below. You quickly looked down, feeling heat rise to your face, not knowing what to do.

You sat back next to  Midoriya, rummaging in the box, trying not to look at him. You never really thought of it, but  Midoriya was super fit. Like- to the point that you wondered how the hell someone could have so much muscle.  Midoriya was built extremely thin and lanky- how was that even possible?!

 Your cheeks instantly got redder.

“You alright?”  Midoriya asked sweetly, making your pulse jump up.

“Yeah, Im fine- actually I should be asking you that, youre the one with the injury,” you stated, trying to keep your voice under control as you looked for stuff- god, you were a mess right now.

“Im fine if youre fine,” he answered innocently, giving you a reassuring smile which made you think you couldnt love him even more- he was injured, and he was making sure you were okay.

God why was he such a good person?!

You gave a small smile thanking him.

”Thanks,” you said, as you tied your bed hair back.“Im sorry I cant turn on any lights, I just dont want my annoying neighbors complaining about me again, there honestly crazy…”

“Oh, youre good!” he whispered, “Just- thanks for doing this for me. You really dont have to do-”

“Midoriya, please, you literally cant walk.” you stated sarcastically, knowing full well Izuku could probably take the pain but you werent letting him go home over your dead body.

“Thats true,” he chuckled, wincing again from the pain. You went to touch him, not knowing what to do to leviate the pain- except, fix it.

“Alright, we need to see what’s wrong- ready?” you asked hesitantly, trying to sound strong.

Midoriya nodded his head, a determined look on his face.

“Ready.”

----------------

Requests open!!!

[darlinrogue]

“ sometimes i realize one day i could die, i could just disappear and the world would be none the wiser. there’d be no one to miss me and that terrifies me more than death itself. ” — kenny @ adam!

It’s All Down Hill From Here Ya’ll

Adam and Kenny || @ofgrief

Adam woke-up with the hangover of a lifetime. A whole ass construction crew wedged inside his cranium going to demolition town. Big, sweaty, muscly guys with jackhammers, wrecking balls, and heavy machinery. For some stupid reason he left the curtain open last night. Morning light spilled into the room and stabbed his eyeballs with serrated knives. Adam groaned and rolled over. He pressed his face into the pillow. His body ached, his head hurt, he was nauseous, and he kinda had to pee— shit, he hadn’t woken-up like this in a minute. Someone needed to shut-up their phone, the incessant chiming was getting on his last nerve. Then it hit him. That was his phone and his alarm going off at God’s forsaken hour of six-thirty. 

Adam slapped at the nightstand. He smacked the shit out of the alarm clock and knocked his car keys to the floor, no phone. Adam weathered the agony of lifting his head-up enough to look and hear the blasted thing beneath him. He slid halfway out of the bed and clawed at the floor beneath the headboard. Then, bingo, his hand closed around the phone and he pressed the power button to shut it up. With most of his upper body hanging off the mattress, Adam crumpled to the floor. His calves tangled with the blankets and he dragged the sheets clean off the bed with him. Flopped against the carpet, he massaged the bridge of his nose. There was a black hairband around his wrist and he had no clue where it came from. Adam yanked back his tangled, frizzy hair into a ponytail to get it out of his eyes. He laid there, blithe and numb, letting incoherent thoughts skim the surface of his consciousness. Bit-by-bit, Adam reconstructed the past twenty-four hours and it was enough to make him laugh. 

Damn, he was good.  

Eager to bask in a rare accomplishment, Adam turned his attention to his phone. He blinked and wiped the grit from his eyes as the screen flicked to life. He had one text message in his notifications. Kenny Omega, at a little past midnight texted him: [Wanna hang out?]

Adam let that time bomb tick as he unlocked his phone and checked Twitter instead. He searched Matt Hardy and perused the iconic’s Twitter feed. Another grin cracked Adam’s face down the middle. Hardy had no idea. That little task of self aggrandization done, Adam opened the messaging app. He stared at the screen and the little bubble of text from Kenny.��Absent-minded, Adam reached down and yanked his belt off— only now realizing he never took it off. Then he answered Kenny’s question with a question.

[Got anything in mind?]

He paused, tongue running over his lips. Then, he untangled his legs from the sheets and blankets. Adam pushed to his feet and stumbled across the room to his bag on the desk. Inside he found Advil and a flask of whiskey. He washed the pain medicine down with a generous swig of alcohol. Adam coughed, beating on his chest to clear his dry throat. On the way to the bathroom he stripped out of his jeans. While brushing his teeth, his phone chimed. Adam spat into the sink and leaned over to read Kenny’s reply.

[My place. Dinner at six?] 

Okay, so that wasn’t ‘hanging-out.’ In Adam’s book, ‘hanging-out’ with Kenny was playing video games or going to an arcade. Maybe they’d work-out, train and drill in the ring, sit around the hotel room and watch movies. All the little things they did as a tag-team to kill time on the road or between matches. What Kenny proposed sounded like a —dare Adam say it— a date. Like two adults, sitting down over a candle-lit table, and talking about serious things for a couple of hours. Which, it was Kenny, so not a big deal, but at the same time, it was Kenny, which was a big deal. 

Since, November their relationship had been stuck in this weird, strange, gray, Twilight-Zone that was neither friendship or anything else. Cuddling in bed or on a couch, flirting, lingering too close, heady with physical desire, and softened by intimacy. Stablemates were always close, stuck on buses and planes for hours together enforced liking someone. Kenny and Adam had seen each other at the worst, at their best. This thing went beyond that. They were friends, tag-partners for a period, all they had left, and yet, nothing at all. Adam could ask Kenny: ‘What the fuck are we?’ If he thought he’d get a straight answer.

Unwilling to unpack all that, Adam dressed to work-out. He left his hotel room and started down the stairs to the lobby. He thought about dinner at six. Today’s original plan was to drive seven hours back to North Carolina, shooting straight-up I-95 along the coast. If Adam left after breakfast he’d be back in the afternoon. Staying another evening in Jacksonville wasn’t a big deal. Such were the benefits of a lonely bachelor life. A neighborhood girl usually took care of Adam’s dogs on Wednesdays. He could call her, offer a generous tip, and get another night. Around the sixth floor landing, he yanked his phone out of his pocket and gave Kenny his answer. 

[Sure, I’ll bring milk and beer. Give me your address.]

Down in the hotel gym he started his work-out, running through reps with almost memorized, mechanical ease. While Adam counted bicep curls, his phone chimed and he glanced at it long enough to see that Kenny had sent the address. Between sets, Adam popped the address into Google Maps. The house was a little over a half-hour drive away on Pointe Verde Beach, just outside of Jacksonville. Strange, because Adam had no memory of Kenny owning a house in or around Jacksonville. He heard whisper of a house near Orlando. He was vaguely aware that Kenny had stayed with Callis or Nakazawa a few times. Adam shuffled this mystery home off as another thing he just didn’t know about Kenny. He finished his work-out on the treadmill, running until endorphins blasted Kenny and the last of the hang-over from his brain. Adam returned to his hotel room to shower. 

While hot water rolled down his back and he scrubbed conditioner from his hair, Adam wondered after Kenny’s ulterior motives. Back in December Kenny made it clear what he wanted from Adam: sex. That wasn’t Adam’s own ego talking, that was straight out of the horse’s mouth. Kenny had said he wanted Adam to kiss him, touch him, and fuck him. That was what he said, almost verbatim. Adam was an adult. He spent a significant chunk of his twenties sexually active. He wasn’t shy or prudish, he had no hang-ups. He could do all the things Kenny wanted. Hell, he’d gladly do them, under the right circumstances. Provided Adam could negotiate the differences between male and female anatomy with any competence. Physical desire was absolutely a dimension of his attraction to Kenny. Except, he wasn’t sure if this was the right circumstances. The thought that Kenny was inviting Adam over to dinner for the sole purpose of propositioning him for sex, turned Adam’s stomach over. He cranked the water cold and sobered beneath the icy spray, jaw tight. He turned off the water and toweled off. Adam texted Kenny again. 

[Nak’s not going to be there, is he?]

Two seconds later, Kenny replied: 

[Nope, just us.]

And to keep some kinda banter, Adam texted him back, hoping that the words read as teasing.

[No Callis, either?]

[lmao no he’s in Tennessee doing Impact crap for the PPV. He left this morning.]

And Adam hadn’t felt this nervous about being alone with Kenny since the first time they played Mario Tennis with Chase Owens. Because shit, he’d been stringing Kenny along for months now. Sure, Callis had been a consistent cock block, but Adam wouldn’t pretend he and Kenny weren’t playing some kinda game. A no-rules, Calvinball-Esque, game with moving goalposts. There were no boundaries because Kenny and Adam never set any. That would imply proper and honest communication. All of it was impromptu and they were living on a prayer that neither of them stepped on any toes. In a way, Daily’s place was a blessing. The presence of others acted as a natural check-and-balance on Kenny and Adam’s weird dynamic. So long as they didn't talk about it, didn't acknowledge the elephant in the room, everything was fine. An evening alone felt like cutting the breaks. It wasn’t that Adam feared having sex with Kenny or Kenny outright trying to jump his bones. It wasn’t that he didn’t want that, or that he hadn’t thought about it. 

It was just that he wanted more.

Call him a sap, but Adam loved Kenny and he wanted Kenny to love him too. He wanted to go on dates. He wanted to wake-up in the same bed in the morning and to kiss Kenny awake. He wanted the small pleasure of fixing breakfast for both of them. Even to do the dishes together and all the boring domestic tasks of day-to-day life. To talk about how their days went but also to exist in quiet intimacy. He wanted to walk down the street holding Kenny’s hand. To drop casually in conversations, “My boyfriend Kenny—” To argue, make-up, and do better next time, all of it. And they were so off the rails because Adam was afraid that saying ‘no’ to Kenny in any capacity would kill what little they had. The what-ifs piled in Adam’s brain. Kenny using him for sex and then never talking to him again. Kenny telling him off for introducing more emotion that was necessary to a physical relationship. Kenny letting Adam know that he had finally moved on from his hot cowboy tag-partner and he won’t be needed anymore. The moment Kenny figured-out that he wasn’t going to get what he wanted from Adam— was the moment Adam lost him. 

Adam ate breakfast at the hotel hot bar. He had yogurt, an orange, eggs, and some links of sausage. He arranged for an extra night at the hotel and texted the girl who took care of his dogs. Then he got hustled by said teenager for almost twice the usual rate because she had, ‘lots of homework.’ Adam couldn’t complain because he was honestly kinda proud. She’d make a great carny one day. With not much else to do in Jacksonville, he left the hotel to go shopping. Adam had only packed for one night and not for a maybe-date with Kenny. He bought a white button down at a clothing store. Then, stopped by an uptown grocery store to buy 2% milk and local IPAs. Adam spent about three minutes lingering by a display of pre-arranged bouquets at the store, wondering if flowers would be too much. He walked away from the display, walked back, almost walked away again, stopped, and then stared a little longer. His hand fluttered by his side and before he could stop himself, Adam grabbed a bouquet of yellow flowers. Shit, he was an idiot. 

He thought, as the cashier rang him up, that Kenny was going to laugh at him. 

He took a lunch break at a small Mexican hole-in-the-wall because his diet was shot to hell today and he’d just have to admit it. Back at the hotel, he did his second work-out, showered again, and then realized he had three whole hours to kill. Three hours to get dressed, fuss over his hair, sit around, stare at the dumb flowers he bought, and consider if waterboarding would be a more or less effective form of torture. He scrolled Twitter, did some Duolingo. His body was tense, a live wire, his heart pounding. Adam left thirty minutes early and so took a twenty-minute detour, just to kill time. All so he wouldn’t look like a complete, desperate dweeb— showing-up early and with flowers? That would be way too much. 

The house was situated in an upscale, rich and retired, suburb nestled by the ocean. It was smaller, blander than the two, three story beach homes that towered around it, with their sparse lawns and obnoxious, pastel colors. It was a one-story, Spanish-style home with a brown roof and off-white siding. Palm trees and shaped topiary decorated the well-tended front yard. The sun back dropped the city to the West, burning gold. The angles of light painted the thin, sparse clouds pink, purple, and orange creamsicle. Adam parked in the driveway in front of the garage. He stepped out of his car and the wind, tasting of salt, pulled at his hair. Between the neighbor’s fence and the sand dunes, he caught sight of the Atlantic. The waves rolled and churned, edged by white foam-like lace. Adam walked around to the other side of the car. On the floorboards were the milk and beer, and on the passenger seat were the flowers. His hands trembled and his heart thudded against his chest like a hammer. Do or die, he had to commit now— fuck it, life was short and that bouquet was like twenty bucks. He tucked the beers under his arm, picked-up the milk in one hand, and the flowers in the other, 

Adam walked up to the front porch and used his elbow to ring the bell. Before Adam even retracted his hand, the door opened. Kenny stood on the other side of the threshold. His hair was yanked back into a loose ponytail at the nape of his neck. Flour dusted his pink t-shirt across the chest. Adam’s eyes drifted down to khaki shorts and the loafers he wore without any socks. For a brief second, Kenny stared at Adam, also giving him a once-over. Adam hesitated, trying to decide if he should give Kenny the flowers or put something down to offer a handshake— like a dork. He managed neither before Kenny cussed. 

“Son of a bitch, you dressed nice, shit, stay there.” Kenny pointed at Adam to indicate where he should 'stay.' Then, Kenny vanished into the house, leaving the door ajar. Adam gaped, brow furrowed and blinking like an owl. A Gregorian choir in his brain chanted, ‘dork, dork, massive dork!’ 

Kenny hadn’t come back by the time Adam processed his absence. So, he took the first step over the threshold. “Uh, Kenny? I’m coming in?” Adam called, to no reply. 

The inside of the house had a blandly typical beach house vibe. White walls, seashell decor, stock paintings of the ocean, and blue accents. There was a wood sign on the entry hall wall that read: Happiness comes in waves. To his left was the kitchen, a large space, with expansive white countertops and black appliances. There were a few bowls and dishes left out, with signs of being used. The sink was to put it lightly, a wreck, filled with utensils, cutting boards, and knives. Adam put the milk and beer in the fridge. Then noted that the dining room table was set. Each place had a gleaming crimson plate. No forks or knives, just chopsticks. A drinking glass for water. Kenny even had even folded the cloth napkins. All set on a black placemat. Adam wandered on into the rest of the house in search of Kenny. Connected to the dining room was the living room. Tall windows on the East wall allowed an expansive view over the pool, yard, and ocean. The sliding glass back door had been left cracked, to allow the cool and brisk breeze in. Adam pushed his hands into his pockets and soaked in the ocean at sunset. 

Footsteps echoed down the far hall. Kenny passed the living room doorway, on the way to the kitchen. He caught Adam out of the corner of his eye and pulled back, changing direction at the last second. Kenny smiled and spread his arms wide so Adam could admire new outfit. He’d changed into dark jeans, a red v-neck, and a black blazer. Still in the loafers, Adam noted, but that was just part of the Kenny charm. 

“Better, right?” Kenny asked. He did a full turnaround and then jaunted over to Adam. He smoothed the lapel of his blazer down. “I didn’t give you a dress code, so I packed something nice to wear just in case. Didn’t wanna feel awkward in khakis, ya know?”

“Yeah, you look good,” Adam agreed, returning Kenny’s grin. They diverted their gaze to the floor together. Adam, trying to find something to say, exaggerated a  look around the house. “Is this your uh, home?”

“Nope! I rented it on Air BnB,” Kenny said, proudly. “I’ve never used the app before, but it found this pretty sweet crib, so I’m impressed. A little pricey maybe, but for an evening, just for us? Worth it, I’d say.”

Adam heard Kenny but he couldn’t think of a response. It hit him that the food on the counter, the set table, the entire house, pointed-to one thing. Kenny had planned this. He had to look for a house, find one, pay for it, plan a menu, buy food, bring tableware, find time. He had planned this at personal expense. He had put real thought into setting-up a dinner for him and Adam.  This wasn’t some off-the-cuff idea. The only improvised part about this was inviting Adam himself. And to think, Adam thought Kenny only wanted to Netflix and chill. 

“I, uh, I got you these,” Adam stammered. He held out the flowers to Kenny. “Just, a housewarming, gift, I guess for — for you.”

“Oh, you did, thank you, Cowboy,” Kenny smiled, he took the bouquet from Adam. He hesitated, awkwardly gripping the plastic casing of the flowers. 

“I guess, you can put it in some water?” Adam suggested. He scratched at the back of his head. 

“Yeah, right, good idea,” Kenny nodded, he stepped back from Adam, lingered for a second, and then headed to the kitchen. 

Adam followed Kenny and while Kenny tore through the cabinets in search of a vase, Adam took a second look. Beside the stove were three white bowls with flour, eggs, and panko crumbs. On the burner sat a large, cast-iron pot filled several inches deep with cooking oil. A thermometer rested beside the burner. Kenny exclaimed, “ah-ha,” When he came up with a vase. He filled it with water and settled the flowers in. Brow furrowed he poked a couple daisies upright. Kenny set the vase with the flowers in the middle of the table, as an impromptu centerpiece.

“There, that livens-up the place,” Kenny said, putting his hands on his hips. He smiled at Adam and the ocean, through the windows behind him, framed his face. His eyes bluer than the sea and Adam only just noticed he didn’t have his glasses on. Instead, the glasses were hooked in the pocket of his blazer. Adam was invited here, talking with Kenny, about to have dinner, and his trepidation only grew.

“Is this all for us?” Adam asked, he leaned against the kitchen doorway and shoved his hand in his pocket. With his other he gestured broadly at everything. 

“Yeah, I thought it would be nice?” Kenny admitted, it was his turn to shrug. “Just us, for once. We haven't gotten to spend a lot of time together recently and there's some, some things I wanted to talk to you about. Stuff that's— that's better here maybe than at Daily’s Place. Is it too much?”

Kenny looked bashful, his smile soft, peering at Adam, his hand working over the back of a chair. It was nervous and sweet, open in a way that Adam hadn’t seen in months. Words were hard, but pushing off the doorpost and walking over to Kenny was easier. For a second, Adam’s hands hovered between them, and then he hooked his fingers beneath Kenny’s lapel. Kenny giggled and rested his forehead against Adam’s, his breath tickling Adam’s bottom lip. 

“It’s perfect,” Adam murmured. He untangled from Kenny’s jacket and slid his hands down Kenny’s sides until Adam held his hips. Adam pushed his palms against the jut of Kenny's bone, “What's for dinner, chef Kenny?”

Kenny giggled and gripped at Adam’s hands. “Well, I was thinking,” he glanced back at the kitchen, “I’d make us Tonkatsu, you know, those pork cutlets you get in Japan, with the breading and cabbage? I haven’t had any in a while and it’s one of my favorite dishes. And I ordered sushi, and dessert, from a couple local places—”

“So, you’re cooking?” Adam asked, he quirked an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah, what’s so bad about that? I can cook,” Kenny protested. He pulled back from Adam and moved into the kitchen. Adam returned to his position by the doorpost as Kenny rummaged in the fridge. He pulled-out a bag of plastic boxes and then a platter of salted pork. Kenny rolled his eyes, “Don’t tell me you’re afraid I’ll burn it? I promise only a little singe, for flavor. I mean it’s Tonkatsu, grade school children can make it.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Adam laughed, he lifted his hands to placate Kenny. “It’s just, you never hit me as the cooking type. Order in and dine-out always seemed more your style.”

Kenny stuck his tongue out at Adam. He laughed though and turned the stove on to heat the oil. The plastic bag crinkled as Kenny sorted through small platters of elegant sushi and laid each on the counter. “We can eat this while the oil heats. I wish I had a nicer serving tray but I didn’t think to bring one, and this house doesn’t have one— I looked. Oh, and I don’t know how you feel about it, but I got some sake too. It’s in the fridge. Do you like it hot? I’ve never had it, so, I don’t know what’s better.”

“Man, I don’t even know,” Adam said. He never liked the flavor of sake —too dry for his taste— so he’d let the discussion drop and hope that was better than rejecting Kenny’s offer. Adam walked over to help Kenny carry the sushi to the table. “I got you milk, though, two percent. I uh— put it in the fridge.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Kenny smiled.  

While Kenny removed the covers from the sushi, Adam fetched his meager contributions to the meal. He returned with the gallon of milk and an IPA. Adam poured Kenny a tall glass of milk and Kenny poured Adam’s beer. Teeth buried in his bottom lip, like this task was monumental, Kenny dumped the bottle into the glass. By the time the bubbles fizzed down, Adam’s ‘beer’ was mostly air. It was the thought that counted and Kenny looked pleased. Before sitting down himself, Kenny pulled-out Adam’s chair for him. Adam muttered his thanks and sat down. Kenny took his place on the opposite side of the table and used his chopsticks to divvy up the sushi pieces between them. 

“Where’d you get this?” Adam asked. 

“Sushiko, a small place by the river, Cody recommended it,” Kenny said. “It’s a nice little restaurant and we’re by the coast so the seafood is fresh. I mean it’s not really, authentic, but that’s hard to get in America anyway.”

“Yeah, but it’ll be good,” Adam countered. “Do you want the ginger?”

“Nah, you can have it,” Kenny said, to punctuate his point he picked up a heap of the ginger and plopped it onto Adam’s plate. “Do you remember how to use the chopsticks? It hasn’t been that long since you were last in Japan, right?”

“I order take-out once a month to keep my skills sharp,” Adam promised. He picked-up the chopsticks by his plate. Then, took the ends and stuck them beneath his top lip like a walrus, “Goes like this right?”

Kenny laughed, hand lifting to cover his mouth as his shoulders shook with racks of giggles. Adam smiled and wiped off his chopsticks with his napkin. It was the kinda joke he’d crack when he was ten, on the rare occasion his parents took the family out to eat. His sister would find it hilarious, his father and mother less so. Yet, it seemed to amuse Kenny to no end, and all that bashful shyness was gone when the laughter subsided. 

“Yeah, close enough,” Kenny said, waving his hand. “Here you should try the tempura roll, it’s my favorite of all the inaccurate American sushis.”

Kenny picked up a piece of sushi with his chopsticks and offered it over the table for Adam to try. Adam didn’t point out that he already had a piece of that type on his plate. He only leaned forward and opened his mouth so Kenny could feed him the sushi. Adam bit down and savored the taste of shrimp, rice, and crunchy breading. 

“It’s good,” he said, nodding and humming his approval.

“Isn’t it?” Kenny asked, he jammed a roll with avocado in his mouth and grinned, pleased. “It’s kinda cliché, but I love this stuff.” 

Adam took a sip from his beer to wash down the rice gummed behind his teeth.

“I’ve always meant to ask,” Kenny said, he pointed with his chopsticks at the beer. “Do you... like that stuff?”

“Beer? Yeah, pretty well, it’s not my favorite drink,” Adam admitted. He ate another piece of sushi and chewed through his thoughts. “It has to be a good beer, the cheap crap isn’t worth the calories. Pleases the hell out of a crowd though.”

“Yeah, don’t you have to drive back?” Kenny’s brow furrowed. 

Adam laughed, “A beer or two isn’t going to send me over, Kenny. It's not like liquor, it's a much lower alcohol content. I probably won't even feel the buzz, especially drinking on food. By the time I leave, I'll be close to zero. I try to keep track of my limits these days, and you know, it’s hard to be no carb and take shots.”

“Trainers got you on no carb?” Kenny asked, with a lifted brow. It was a quick change of topic and Adam appreciated the tact. 

“Yeah, have been for a while now, it’s probably better that way,” Adam shrugged. “You know not all of us shred fat like you.”

“Well, that’s not so easy these days,” Kenny admitted. “Not all of us are as young as you.”

“Hey, a few months and I’ll be thirty,” Adam pointed-out. “Or like, twenty-four by Cody’s metric, something like that.”

“You can’t say that being youngest wasn’t a good shake,” Kenny said. “You never had to pay for anything.”

“Just all the ribbing,” Adam grinned.

Adam popped some ginger in his mouth and waggled his eyebrows for emphasis. Kenny was all grins and the smiles were a relief. This wasn’t a total cluster fuck and Adam hadn’t said something to screw-up the mood. This was going much better than his anxiety allowed him to anticipate. A pause to eat lulled the conversation to a brief silence. Yet, Adam could tell by the way Kenny studied his Philadelphia roll, there was something on his mind. 

“So, uh, last night,” Kenny said, he placed his elbow on the table. “Did you sign a contract with Matt Hardy? Did I interpret that segment correctly? I was preparing for my match so I wasn’t really paying attention, but—”

Adam paused, chopsticks halfway to his mouth, and then he grinned. “I did.”

“Did you read that contract?” Kenny probed. “Listen, I know you and Hardy go back but I’m not sure you should trust that guy, Page. He’s a bit of a carny— I mean his gimmick is ‘Big Money Matt.’ That has got to be a warning sign. I know Matt and Nick brought him in by burying his vessel or whatever, but he’s changed a lot since the Stadium Stampede. He’s got the whole, I guess split personality thing going on?”

“Oh, I read the contract I signed,” Adam nodded. He savored the taste of a Dragon roll, fishy and popping with acidity. “Hardy didn’t, but I did.”

“Oh, really,” Kenny waxed, he pressed his finger tips to his chin. “Something you wanna fill me in on?”

“Yeah, I switched the contracts,” Adam said. 

Kenny gasped, “You switched the contracts?! Oh, ho, Page, I knew you were smart, brilliant, tell me everything.”

“Well, I knew he was going to invite me to a bar, because he said so on Twitter,” Adam began. “Like, you said, I’ve known Matt for a while and he’s always been a dick. He was talking all about how I’m going to be some great star or the ‘top guy’ in AEW, or whatever, some bullshit, but I kinda figured his plan was to get me drunk and willing to sign something stupid.”

He leaned back in his chair, sipping on his beer and thinking. Adam couldn’t get why every other manager in AEW was salivating at the idea of getting him on their payroll. The Dark Order was trying to recruit him. Taz was talking about him. Matt Hardy seemed to think Adam was the second coming of Jesus. Adam assumed that he was so sought after because the actual best wrestler in AEW was already spoken-for. And Jon Moxley wasn’t the type to tolerate companionship. So, that left Adam Page. Talk about scraping the bottom of the barrel. 

“So, I uh, had a little something prepared for him,” Adam shrugged. “I don’t think he’s figured it out yet, so like, don’t go spreading it around? Snitches get stitches, Kenny, and I mean it.”

“My lips are sealed,” Kenny promised. He pantomimed zipping-up his mouth, locking it, and throwing away the key. He leaned forward, hand bracing against the table. “But really, what was in the contract?’

“You wanna know?” Adam asked. 

“Yeah, I wanna know!” Kenny said. 

“Well, I’m not going to tell you,” Adam smirked. “You’ll just have to find-out with Matt Hardy and everyone else. I don’t wanna pop the surprise.”

“Aw, Pizz, you’re killing me, now that’s all I’m going to think about for the rest of the night!” Kenny laughed, he deflated into his chair. Then he bounced back, livened with an idea. “Oh, I know, you made it so you get a third of his merch sales? A half?! Man, that’s brutal. Ooh, I know what you should’ve done, what I would do? Make him your butler for a few weeks, that would be funny.”

Adam chuckled, cheeks flushed with amusement. All he did was shake his head and keep his mouth shut. Kenny gave-up, lifting his hands in a gesture of peace. While they ate, Kenny talked about the Women’s Title Eliminator tournament and all that went into organizing it. He seemed excited to debut the woman’s bracket next week. He promised that he had seen the matches, and they were, “fantastic.” In particular he was ecstatic about Aja Kong and Yuka progressing. Adam had no idea who Maki Itoh was beyond her Twitter, but Kenny was adamant she get a contract at some point. On his part Adam was happy to sit back —long after polishing off his own plate— and listen to Kenny, occasionally interjecting a question or an affirming, “mhm.” Eventually, Kenny got around to eating his last piece of sushi. His eyes darted beyond Adam’s shoulder and pushed himself to his feet to go check on the oil. 

Adam turned in his seat to watch Kenny in the kitchen. He was eyeing a thermometer dipped in the pot. Pleased with the temperature, he moved to start working with the meat. Kenny used a skewer to dip a pork cutlet into the flour, then egg, then back into the flour. Adam cleared the sushi plates from the table. He rinsed them in the sink. He cleaned a few other dishes, cutting boards, and knives, listening to Kenny complain about getting flour on his fingers. Adam put the dishes on the rack and dried his hands on a towel. He wandered to Kenny’s side. Kenny had coated two cutlets in panko crumbs and the breaded meat sat on a plate ready to go. He fiddled with the thermometer, brow furrowed in concentration. He adjusted the temperature on the stove and then gripped the pot handle to center it on the burner. He hissed when his hand touched hot metal. Kenny stuck his finger in his mouth. 

“Hot,” he breathed to Adam. 

“Yeah, no shit, go rinse it under the cold water,” Adam ordered. “Are you okay?”

“Just my pride,” Kenny said, as he ran his finger under the faucet and washed his hands of flour. “I thought I was going to be so cool, making Tonkatsu for you, and you’d be like, ‘wow, look at Kenny be a boss in the kitchen,’ and now I’m just kinda—”

He returned to the stove and looked at the simmering oil with particular trepidation. 

“Now, I’m just kinda nervous,” he admitted, smiling again. “Like, I don’t want to fuck this up and ruin the evening, or something.”

“Do you want help?” Adam asked.

“How heroic,” Kenny pined. “A cowboy come to save me.”

“Yeah, yeah, mostly I just don’t want the food burned,” Adam said, stepping to Kenny’s side. He nudged his hip against Kenny’s and picked-up a skewer. The task was simple, pick-up the two pieces of meat and plunge them into the boiling oil. Yet, when Adam did it, Kenny looked at him like he did something astounding. Adam handed the tongs to Kenny, “you can flip them on your own, right?”

“Pfft, I got that,” Kenny bragged, taking the utensil from Adam. He positioned himself, watching as bubbles formed around the meat. The panko browned to an appetizing gold. As the meat cooked, it exuded juices that caused the oil to spit. Kenny yelped, when some struck his arm, shifting behind Adam. “Unless it fights back?!”

“Aren’t you the guy who fought a G1 with a fractured heel?!” Adam snapped. “Don’t be a baby, it’s just oil, it’s not going to bite you! Get in there.”

Kenny patted Adam’s shoulder and shifted to plunge the tongs into the oil. He flipped both pieces of meat. Although, he held the tongs at the furthest extent to avoid oil splatter. Adam placed his hand on the small of Kenny’s back to hold him steady as they waited the last minute for the meat to finish. It was such a simple gesture but Kenny’s nerves seemed to evaporate under his touch. Kenny fished out the cutlets and placed them diagonally on a draining rack. The cooking done, Kenny kicked Adam out of the kitchen while he finished the rest of the meal. Adam returned to the dining table, sat down, and enjoyed his beer. The soothing melody of Kenny banging around behind him as background noise. 

A few minutes later, Kenny placed a plate in front of Adam. The cutlet had been sliced thin and fanned across the edge of the plate. A generous heap of shredded cabbage piled in the middle garnished with a slice of tomato and lemon. On the side were pickled radishes. The colors popped and the meat smelled delicious. Kenny laid a small container of pouring sauce between them on the table. Kenny sat down with his own plate across from Adam.

“This is so— great, Kenny,” Adam breathed, looking over the food. He picked-up his chopsticks and dove in for the Tonkatsu. It was juicy and savory, with a nice crunch. Adam groaned, “It tastes fantastic.”

“Thanks, I was worried about overcooking it, but with you at my side, it was easy,” Kenny said, he smiled. He poured some sauce on his cutlet. “We make a great team.” 

Adam focused on pinching some cabbage between his chopsticks, eyes casting down to the plate. “Yeah, I— I guess we do.”

“Hey, it was just an observation,” Kenny said, he nudged Adam’s foot under the table with his own. "It doesn't have to mean anything."

“No, no, it’s fine,” Adam said. He took a sip of beer but didn’t taste it. “You’re right, I was just thinking— I’ve tagged with a lot of people lately, and none of them are like you. You really are the best.”

“That’s sweet, cowboy,” Kenny grinned, but Adam sensed the need to change the conversation. Mourning the tag-team wasn’t uplifting for either of them. 

“So, where did you learn to make this?” Adam asked. He gestured at the Tonkatsu. “’Cause it’s really good. Not going to lie, that’s what I miss about Japan— the food. They just don’t have the same, I don’t know, style? Yeah, style, in America.”

“Well, I learned from one of the ladies I stayed with when I first moved to Japan in, 2008, well, kinda learned,” Kenny elaborated. He shrugged, “mostly I just watched her cook and sometimes she let me help. She always did the bits with the oil because she was afraid I’d burn myself. My Japanese wasn’t good back then but I’m pretty sure she thought I was just an idiot.”

“I mean, you can be a bit,” Adam paused. Kenny pressed his lips thin, so he picked his next word carefully, “ditzy?”

“I’ll give you that,” Kenny said. “I wouldn’t trust me around a big pot of boiling oil either. You handled yourself pretty well in there, though.”

“Deep fried is a staple food in the rural south," Adam said. "It's a survival skill, where I'm from. It's okay, Kenny, you can kick my ass Street Fighter, later, so that way we're even."

The conversation slowed so they could finish eating. Just the sounds of chewing and chopsticks clacking. It was good, the cabbage contrasting to the meat, and the sauce adding a hint of sweetness. It wasn't an awkward or uncomfy silence, Adam wasn't looking for an excuse to breach it. It was just them, together, enjoying the mutual company. When Adam finished eating, just to gross out Kenny, he picked up his plate and licked it clean. The gesture had the intended effect of making Kenny screw-up his nose and expression. Adam took his last swig of beer and then carried both their plates to the sink. Adam helped Kenny tidy-up the kitchen. Adam washed the dishes and Kenny dried, putting the plates away on the shelves. They moved around each other like this was something they did every night. Yet, each time Kenny’s elbow jostled Adam or he moved a step closer, a warm heat spread across Adam’s skin. It was dark outside when they finished and Kenny turned on lights in the house to illuminate the rooms. 

“You up for cake, cowboy?” Kenny asked as he returned. He took a box out from the fridge and finagled the lid open. Inside the box was a small, white cake decorated with vanilla icing, raspberries, and fancy swirls. Kenny smacked Adam’s hand away when he tried to taste the frosting. 

"Ow," Adam grunted. He cradled his hand to his chest.

“I didn’t really know what you liked, but everyone likes vanilla, so I figured I couldn't go wrong,” Kenny admitted as he took the cake out of the box. Adam got plates and a knife to cut with. Kenny stuck his tongue out as he sliced into the cake. It was obnoxiously cute. He pointed with the knife, “Is this big enough?”

“That’ll do it,” Adam said.

 Kenny sliced the cake and put a piece on a plate that he handed to Adam, then cut his own piece. The inner filling of the cake was a bright red raspberry and Adam hummed, eager. to try Kenny took a fork and cut off a small piece of his cake slice. He offered the morsel to Adam. Once again, Adam let Kenny feed him. It was sweet, with a delicate crumb, and acidic with the fruit. Kenny opened his mouth, making an ‘ah’ sound, to indicate he wanted Adam to return the gesture. Adam obliged, watching with fascination as Kenny’s lips closed around the fork. A speck of icing trapped at the corner of his mouth. Before he could stop himself, Adam leaned forward and kissed it off— grinning all the way back as Kenny’s cheeks flushed. 

“You remember when we tricked that waitress into giving us free cake?” Kenny asked. His eyes lit-up, to divert his attention though, he glanced down for another bite. “That was— fun.”

“I don’t think we tricked anybody,” Adam laughed. "I think the waitress knew what was up the whole damn time."

“What, we weren’t a convincing couple?” Kenny asked. The question so earnest, his voice so soft, that Adam almost dropped his plate. Deep in Kenny's eyes hid a kernel of curious probing. Like he was testing the waters. Wading-out waist high in a surging tide.

“I— um, I guess we were.” Adam ducked his head, but Kenny shoved at his shoulder and the tension dissipated. 

“I’m just teasing you, Hangers,” he laughed. “Eat your cake, before I do. Hey, I know, why don’t we go sit outside? C’mon.”

Kenny had already split off and so that settled it. Adam got a beer from the fridge and followed Kenny out the back door. At the edge of the pool was a small sitting area with chairs and a couch. The ocean crashed against the shore, loud and echoing in Adam's inner-ear. He felt the tide wearing away the sand in his teeth. Kenny sat down on the couch, tossing his phone on the coffee table. He crossed his legs up and finished off his cake. Adam joined him on the other side of the couch. They remarked on the flavors of the cake and speculated if the icing was cream cheese or not. Finished eating, Kenny put his plate down and lounged back against the cushions. 

Adam studied Kenny’s profile. His straight nose and angular jaw, the untamed stubble on his cheeks. His lips pink with red raspberries. In red and black, he looked marvelous. The wind tussling his curls. And his eyes, so scarce these days, holding every emotion Adam hoped to see reflected in them. Adam’s heart collided with the inside of his ribs. He took his last bite of cake and put aside the dishes. Then, for courage, he swigged on his beer and set that aside too. He leaned into the cushions, adjusting a pillow underneath his right elbow. 

“Hey,” he said, voice coarse and weak, the word lost to the ocean. Kenny looked at him, hearing him anyway, and Adam opened his arms wide, “What are you doing over there? Get your ass over here.”

Kenny slid over until he leaned against Adam’s side. Adam swung his legs up onto the couch and pulled Kenny against his chest. Kenny settled between his legs and Adam draped his arm over Kenny’s back. Something dislodged in Adam’s lungs and he breathed easy for the first time in months. Kenny sighed and pressed his cheek to Adam’s collarbone. His hand ran over Adam’s bicep. Adam reached over Kenny, picked-up his beer, and took another casual swig. Part of him regretted the alcohol because now his breath must smell like beer and cake. The other part of him needed it to function in this moment. 

Adam drew broad circles between Kenny’s shoulder blades, feeling each hard muscle, defined and strong beneath his hand. Kenny was warm in contrast to the cool night, like a little personal heater. Adam chuckled, content as he leaned back against the arm rest. Kenny turned his face into Adam’s chest and buried his nose into Adam’s shirt. He shuddered in Adam’s arms, a full body tremble working all the way down his spine. Adam lifted his hand to work his fingers through Kenny’s hair and curls. A little coarser now since he dyed it, black and silver. Adam didn’t know what else to say or think, or do. Didn’t know if this was Kenny using him for comfort or something more. If he was supposed to read between the lines, look for the fine text, or just be a quiet and good pillow. Maybe, he'd just pretend that the way Kenny clung to him was because of love. 

“I like your hair like this,” Adam mused. He ran his fingers through Kenny’s scalp. It was an easier question than: why did you bring me here? What do you want from me? What are we? 

“Thanks,” Kenny muttered. He turned his cheek to press against Adam’s chest. Adam considered that an improvement. 

“Are you okay?” He managed. 

Kenny sighed, shoulders heaving. He wrapped his arms around Adam’s waist and cinched in, holding him close. It was the total experience of being owned. That Adam was Kenny’s to have and hold onto. It was possessive in a way that thrilled Adam. That there were seven billion people on this planet and he was the one Kenny Omega invited to a rented house for dinner. Adam was the one who got to hold Kenny Omega, not anyone else. Adam was the one Kenny Omega wanted to be held by. It had to mean something. He wanted it to mean something. Please, let it mean something. 

“It’s just,” Kenny whispered. His voice soft, but Adam carded his fingers through Kenny’s hair to encourage each word forth. “Sometimes, I realize one day I could die. I could just disappear and the world would be none the wiser. There’s be no one to miss me and that— that terrifies me more than death itself.”

Then, Kenny laughed, shaking his head, giggling like he said something funny. Not something that Adam had no idea how to react to. Every word of it raised a protest inside Adam though. That he cared, that he would notice, that he would be devastated to lose Kenny. That he lost Kenny once and he had no intentions of ever doing it again. Except, Adam had no idea how to say all that in a way that made sense. When he opened his mouth to speak nothing came out but a huff of carbon dioxide. Kenny tensed, feeling Adam’s diaphragm tighten. It was as if Adam’s anxiety infused and intertwined with Kenny's, into something ugly between them. Adam could just hold Kenny tighter and that would make Kenny understand. Hold so tight to Kenny that he couldn’t leave, couldn’t go anywhere, and they’d just fit together, and it’d work. 

Except, Adam was no longer so young and stupid as to believe that would work. It wasn’t enough to ask Kenny, ‘do you trust me,’ when he already breached that trust. Adam couldn’t hold on alone, they had to meet in the middle. These things had to be mutual. This was a two street and Adam had no idea if Kenny was walking towards him or away. He was just a blur in the distance that he was chasing like hell. As if, when he caught Kenny, he’d get the answers to the questions he was too afraid to ask. 

Kenny shifted, pushing back against Adam and the awkward silence between them. The silence Adam let linger too long. He wondered if just screaming would work better than this. Kenny sat-up, and tucked a piece of hair behind his ear. He clung to one of Adam’s hands like it was a life raft in the middle of that ocean out there. They sat thigh-to-thigh, hip-to-hip. Maybe, that’s how Adam felt, like Kenny was drowning and all he could do was yell advice from the shoreline. 

“Look,” Kenny began, he licked his lips. He stared at where their knees touched. Adam could feel Kenny's pulse fluttering beneath his fingers. “There’s something I gotta tell you.”

Kenny giggled again, shoulders shaking and Adam had no idea what the joke was. He placed his other, free hand on Kenny’s shoulder. 

“I set all of this up to tell you, but I— I don’t know what to say,” He admitted. He shook his head and squeezed Adam’s hand. 

“Whatever, whatever you feel, man,” Adam offered, lamely. “You know I’m here for you.”

“Look—” Kenny began.

He looked-up, gunmetal blue eyes matching Adam’s gaze. The warm glow from the house burned his cheeks gold and he shivered. Kenny was scared, the thought hit Adam like a gunshot. Terrified, looking at Adam, like Adam was going to hurt him. Like a whipped dog anticipating being taken out back.  

“Adam, I—”  he began, then a sharp chime cut him off.

Both Kenny and Adam looked down at Kenny’s phone on the coffee table. Don Callis, calling Kenny, the phone vibrating against the glass. Kenny withdrew his hand, untangling from Adam, scooting away. Like, he'd been burned and scalded, like he just put his hand back on that pot handle and this time gripped tight. “I’m not— I’m not going to answer it. I— I told him I’d be busy,” Kenny stammered, his hands working through his hair. There was a bite to his tone that set Adam’s heart on fire. “I don’t know why he’s calling me he should know.”

As Kenny’s pitch hitched and his voice cracked, Adam lunged forward to hit the decline button on the phone. The phone stopped ringing and Kenny sighed, his face stricken pale. Adam himself breathed for the first time in almost a minute, slowly leaning back into the couch. His hands rested on his knees. The ocean crashed and receded. 

“He can leave a damn voice mail,” Adam managed, cracking a half-grin but when he looked at Kenny it was not returned. Instead, Adam met wild eyes and a pale face, white with fear. In a few seconds it calmed, the war raging in Kenny dying down as he glanced away from Adam. As Adam watched Kenny pulled the glasses-free from his front pocket and shoved them on his face. He licked his lips, jaw working tight. “Kenny, is everything okay?”

“Fine, it’s fine, I’m fine,” Kenny repeated, his hands rubbed over his thighs. “I’m not— I’m not going to keep you, you can go. It was— It was fun tonight, thanks.”

Kenny lifted and waved his hand as if to dismiss Adam. Adam’s felt his temper go through the roof, just a moment of complete rage that calmed immediately. There were no words, just screaming like if he opened his mouth, a long drawn howl would escape instead of anything coherent. And that was the best he could do to express the emotions in his head. His teeth gritted and Adam rubbed his hands through his hair, trying to clear out the thoughts from his head. 

“No, wait, Kenny what did you want to tell me?” Adam asked. “What were you trying to say before Don called?”

“All, I wanted to do was just tell you that— that,” Kenny stuttered, and Adam had no faith that what came out of his mouth next was the truth. “That you can always talk to me if you need it. That, that I’m here for you, Page, and like, that you don’t need to go signing stupid contracts with Matt Hardy, but you didn’t so, it’s really not a problem. You— you didn’t need me.”

“Is that it?” Adam asked, he glanced around the house. Thought of the sushi and the home-cooked meal. Of cake and Kenny dressing nice just for Adam. “You did all this, just to tell me that? Are you sure that’s what you wanted to tell me?”

“What do you think?” Kenny asked, he peered at Adam. The glasses and his expression were like a brick wall. Impassive, unreadable, and drawing Adam to a total stop. Adam’s stomach twisted, lips parted in unvoiced confusion. Adam couldn’t answer the question because he was afraid of what Kenny thought. Kenny didn't love him, Kenny didn't care, Kenny was using him.

 “Seriously, Page, I’m fine— you can leave if you want,” Kenny repeated. “It was fun tonight.”

“No, no, no, Kenny,” Adam interjected. “No, I’m not just leaving, I’m not going anywhere until I get some damn answers about what the hell is going on. I’ve been out of my mind for months trying to figure us— this, out.  It ain’t even just about what you did to Moxley or any of the other crap. I was with you in Japan, I know how you are. Excalibur may be scandalized but I was there when you won the Intercontinental title off Tanahashi. I know how it goes. What gets me, is that you hadn’t done that shit since Japan. Ever since Don Callis came back you’ve been acting weird and I think by this point I deserve some damn answers.”

“Okay, fine, fine, what do you want to know?” Kenny demanded. He crossed his arms over his stomach. “I am an open book.”

“It’s just, I don’t know—” Adam stumbled over his words, the real questions getting in the way of the ones he could actually ask. What are we? So, instead, he stumbled-on, “Are you sure you can trust Don?”

“Of course, I can,” Kenny scoffed. “We’re changing the business Adam, changing the world, history! All those solid steel doors, those arbitrary barriers in our sport? They’re gone now! Impact, New Japan, NWA, Stardom, they’re all clamoring to get a spot on our show. We are the hottest thing in wrestling, not WWE, us. Tony Khan, the Bucks, and Cody, the whole locker room, they should be thanking us, we’re giving them jobs, improving their pay checks, and what do we get?! Just like you said, Excalibur on commentary with a bad attitude. No one else shares my vision, no one else gets it, not like Don does.”

Kenny shook his head, curls flopping around. He spoke fast, quickly, trying to get to the next words as soon as possible. 

“I thought that was all bullshit,” Adam admitted. “Just shit Don was making-up to justify taking the title.”

“Page, please!” Kenny said, his hand fluttering in Adam’s direction. “We’ve been planning something like this for years. This isn’t a mere money-making scheme, Don isn’t like Matt Hardy. And yeah, maybe that means I can’t be around Matt and Nick as much anymore, maybe the locker room hates me, maybe I’m not as popular with the audience— big deal. They’ll come around, they always come around, they’ll realize how much I’ve done for them. People change, this is— this is bigger than any one person.”

“Oh, Don isn’t like Matt Hardy?” Adam asked, he lifted an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

Kenny pushed to his feet and Adam stood too. Kenny’s hands fluttered around and something flexed in his jaw like he was chewing on sand. His voice was darker, biting with anger as he shook his finger at Adam. “Don’t even start with me, Page, about who to trust. We both know your track record.”

“Matt Hardy doesn’t give a shit about me,” Adam stated. Kenny stepped-in like it was a warning, but Adam squared his shoulders and with a look wilted Kenny. Adam took sick satisfaction in the inch or two of height he had. To lift his chin, and stand his ground. “And Don Callis doesn’t give a shit about you.”

“Don is like family to me,” Kenny snapped, his finger jutted into Adam’s face, his voice lifting in pitch and volume. Adam couldn’t remember if they ever got to this point with each other, yelling. No, he remembered some shoves in the ring. “He cares about me. I know he does. I’ve known him since I was a child, Page. It’s not the same thing.”

Adam worked his teeth into his bottom lips. He placed his hand on his hips and glanced towards the ocean. Black and churning, the waves thrown in turmoil, rolling, clawing-up the beach to high tide. Adam let himself feel the wind in his hair and his pounding heart. He glanced back at Kenny. 

Back in the day, Biz Cliz days, the Bullet Club, and the Elite was Kenny’s family. They were the ones who looked after him after matches. They were the ones who fetched ice or hot packs for his injuries. They were the ones at ringside. The ones in his tag-teams. The ones who helped him pick-out clothes or get in his ring gear. Adam thought they were family and he had fought like hell for that family. Scrabbled to keep the little niche of home he’d found, that place he belonged. He spared a thought, that something had gone wrong, terribly wrong. So wrong, that Kenny, went to someone else instead of his family. FTR, the Dark Order, Matt Hardy, the Good Brothers, Don, all these side distractions instead of the stable that cared about them. Egos blew-up, friendships faded, but it took more than a couple of arguments to break the Elite. There was a looming specter, sticking his fingers in the crack. Adam may’ve left the Elite but he always thought there’d be something to go back to. He never thought his absence would unravel his friends— never dreamed it. 

He didn’t even think they’d notice he was gone. 

“Does your family usually hit you with a microphone?” Adam asked. 

Kenny’s lips parted, his jaw falling slack. His shoulders drooped and then he rubbed his hand beneath the rims of his glasses. He crossed his arms, gaze turning downwards. Adam’s hands fell to his sides, feeling that the fight was over. Kenny shook his head as if to physically dislodge Adam’s words from his skull. Kenny was a fighter, he was a leader, he was a crazy visionary, who did his own thing. He always had an argument in him. He always kicked-out. He fought sixty minute matches against Okada. The way he capitulated in defeat here and now was fascinating because it was so against him. It was like Adam pushed back and found nothing but dust. That he had glanced back over his shoulder and suddenly Kenny had turned to salt. A pillar of salt, crumbling in Adam’s hands. A divine and cruel trick, stealing from him what he most desired, at the last possible second. 

Adam sighed, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets. Then, Kenny lurched forward and pressed his forehead into Adam’s shoulder. Adam closed his eyes and reached-up to tangle his fingers back in Kenny’s hair. He worked out a knot and then smoothed his palm down Kenny’s back. Kenny trembled against him, fingers twisted in Adam’s shirt. It was a desperate grip, like this attention and concern was foreign to Kenny. Like he was starved and Adam supposed that made sense because this didn’t feel like something Don Callis would do. Because Don Callis didn't care about Kenny. He wouldn't take care of Kenny, not like his friends would— like they were supposed to. They had failed Kenny and so he went to someone else. (They had failed Adam and so he had went to someone else). Adam hummed, low in his throat, and buried his nose in Kenny’s hair. He smelled of cologne and sea salt, and everything Adam missed. 

“Forget about Don,” Adam said. “I— I shouldn’t’ve said that, it’s none of my damn business.”

“I just don’t want to fight with you,” Kenny admitted. “I don’t— I don’t deserve you, Page.”

“Nah, don’t say that,” Adam shook his head. “Because if you were gone, you know I’d miss you, right? I ain’t got that many friends left, Kenny. You’re special to me.”

“Charmer,” Kenny grunted. 

“Can’t coast on just my good looks, you know,” Adam chuckled. He wrapped both his arms around Kenny and drew him tighter. Knowing that he was being used. Knowing that they were no closer now than they were before. “Gotta have some personality.”

“Hmm, but you are good-looking,” Kenny agreed. His hands smoothed down Adam’s side, unabashed in feeling the muscles and curves of his waist. “You’re very handsome, cowboy.”

Adam chuckled as Kenny wrapped his arms around him. It felt good to be needed. Good to be wanted and held. To be possessed by someone. Adam wanted Kenny to own him. But, he wasn’t sure if it was real or if Adam was just here, and hot, and it worked. 

“I can stay,” Adam murmured. “Just one night, you and me, like— like in the hotel.” 

“You— you want to?” Kenny asked. He pulled from Adam to look at him, or rather let Adam look at his glasses. “I have an extra toothbrush.”

“Good, because all my shit is at the hotel,” Adam said, flashing a grin. 

Adam tapped Kenny on the back to urge him back inside. Adam carried in the plates and his mostly undrunk beer. At the kitchen sink, he chugged a few big gulps and poured the rest of the alcohol down the drain. Adam rinsed and cleaned the dishes, while Kenny finished tidying-up behind him. The domesticity was intoxicating, giving Adam more of a buzz than the beer. It was deceptive too. For a second, Adam could pretend they did this little ritual every night. Clean-up after dinner, put-away all the dishes, and then, turn off the kitchen lights, head for bed. As Adam followed Kenny down the hall to the master bedroom, he rubbed the sweat off his palms and onto his pants legs. 

The master bedroom had a large bed, a couch, desk and chair, and a TV on a stand. A sliding door connected to the back patio outside. Airy, light blue curtain hung over the windows and glass. The walls were painted white and the bedding was blue. The typical beach decor was as bland as the rest of the house. Kenny rummaged around in a suitcase, left on a couch with a few stray articles of clothes on the cushions. He procured a set of soft fabric shorts and tossed them to Adam. 

“I don’t sleep in pajamas like you do, Pizz,” Kenny said. His early energy was gone and he said all of it like it was a statement of fact. Adam didn't doubt Kenny's ability to put on a show though. Even if he felt like shit he'd find a way to hide it. “So, you’ll just have to do with my work-out clothes. I washed them, I promise.”

“Are you going to sleep in your X-men undies again?” Adam teased. Kenny found a toothbrush but instead of handing it to Adam, he chucked it at Adam’s head. Adam caught the flung toothbrush with a clap of his hands. “Hey, I like Wolverine!”

“No, for the record I wore briefs this time,” Kenny said. He shrugged off his blazer and smiled softly, almost regretfully. “I came prepared.”

Adam stepped around the edge of the room, watching as Kenny peeled off his shirt. He’d seen Kenny shirtless a thousand times. He could map each expanse and stretch of muscle, the powerful curve of his back, his thick arms, and broad shoulders. This time felt special, significant, especially when Kenny glanced over his shoulder at Adam and caught him watching. Adam ducked his head and escaped into the bathroom. 

Once the door was closed behind him, he stared at himself in the mirror. Adam splashed cold water on his face and then brushed his teeth. He changed into Kenny’s shorts, used the toilet, and left, wiping his hands on the hand towel. Kenny had changed into a pair of sweat pants and he was yanking the curtains closed over the window. Adam walked-up behind him, hooked an arm around Kenny’s waist and pulling him back to his chest. 

“I’ll wait for you in bed,” Adam murmured, dipping his head to speak in Kenny’s ear. “Don’t take too long, I’m tired.” 

“Yes, sir,” Kenny chuckled. “You know, I like it when you boss me around.”

“Make sure you wash behind your ears,” Adam ordered, severely. 

Adam tapped Kenny’s hip and sent him off towards the bathroom. He turned off the bedroom lights and the nightstand lamp then slid underneath the covers of the bed. It felt like this would be easier if he didn’t have to look at Kenny. Then they wouldn’t have to face anything, just be with each other. The bed was softer than Adam was used to and he fought the mattress to roll over on his side, punching at the pillow to get it shaped right. The ocean rumbled and Adam sighed, exhaling with the tide. He heard the bathroom door open and the latch close behind Kenny. He heard each pad of Kenny’s footsteps on the carpet before the mattress dipped and Kenny slid into bed. Adam rolled over, reaching for Kenny and guiding him closer. Kenny shimmied over and Adam tucked his arm over Kenny’s side, his hand resting over Kenny’s stomach. He pressed his nose into Kenny’s neck and Kenny hooked his calf around Adam’s leg to bring them flush. Every inch of Kenny’s body pressed against Adam. Kenny laid his hand over Adam’s and intertwined their fingers. Kenny rumbled, content, then slid his foot down to put his ice cold toes on Adam’s ankle. Adam jerked, cussing, and Kenny giggled. 

Adam’s eyes fluttered closed. Kenny’s breath as gentle as the ocean. He’d been dreaming about this for months, having Kenny back here. The memory of the hotel room a poor substitute for having him under Adam’s arm. Warm, heavy, his pulse tangled with Adam’s. Adam wiggled his arm underneath Kenny and clutched him tighter. He nuzzled his nose into Kenny’s neck. Here he could say anything. Anything at all, whisper it and pretend Kenny was sleeping, and Kenny could pretend he was sleeping if he didn’t want to hear it. And it’d be like a confession, words lost to empty air, absolution offered to wash them clean. Adam opened his mouth and nothing came out. Instead his lips moved and he mouthed, “I love you.” Without uttering a single sound. Then again, “I love you.” 

“Adam,” Kenny grunted, and Adam almost panicked, wondering for a second if he had actually said those things out loud. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Adam asked, sleep dragged at his mind, making him a little dumb. 

“Staying,” Kenny said. “I know I— I freak-out on you there.”

“It's fine,” Adam whispered. “It happens. Wanna hear a crazy idea I have?”

Kenny shifted, wiggling in Adam’s arms to turn over. Adam grunted when Kenny dug his elbow into his ribs so he could leverage himself onto his opposite side. Kenny buried his face in Adam’s chest and Adam wondered if that was just how he preferred to sleep. Adam rolled onto his back and dragged Kenny with him. He let his fingers play with the ends of Kenny’s hair as the other hand interlaced with Kenny’s on his stomach. Kenny settled himself and Adam licked his lips, just stupid enough to share this crazy idea. 

“Hit me, cowboy,” Kenny ordered. 

“We leave in the morning,” Adam suggested. “I don’t know where to, maybe nowhere specific, but it’s just the two of us. Sleeping in motels, eating shit at dinners, and working the indies— making like fifty bucks a show, so there’s never enough money but we make it work. Maybe we’re a tag-team again or it’s just us in singles. We dominate the competition, earn those dumb little regional belts we used to own. No more stakes, no more crap, just— wrestling, fun as it used to be.”

“We’d be recognized,” Kenny muttered, and Adam remembered the goofy BTE bits he used to shoot down for Kenny. Poking holes in the logic or saying the joke wasn’t funny. All because he was afraid of committing to an idea. Turn about was fair play he guessed. “We could— we could wear masks.”

“You ever wrestle in a mask?” Adam asked. 

“No,” Kenny admitted.

“Sucks,” Adam grunted, “And the moment you did a One-Winged Angel, everyone would know who you are. It’d just be El Generico all over again.”

“We should go horse riding,” Kenny suggested, he yawned. “I haven’t done that in a long time.”

“Next time you’re in Virginia,” Adam promised. “I’ll take you.”

“Mhmm, maybe that should be sooner, rather than later,” Kenny smiled. He settled then and Adam shut-up so he could sleep. In a few moments Kenny breathed easily, and steadily, his eyes closed. Adam twirled a black curl around his finger, absent-minded. 

“I love you,” he said, to the empty room. An observation, a statement of fact, Adam kissed the top of Kenny’s head. This time, he whispered into those curls, “I love you.” 

And then he adjusted himself so he was comfortable in the pillows. Adam sagged, the tension bleeding out of his stiff frame like water. Kenny mumbled softly in his sleep and Adam tucked him close to his side. Thoughts twisted-up in his head, Adam drifted unconscious. Then, when his eyes opened, the room was bright, light spilling in through the thin curtain. The sea raged and the gulls cried. His arm was dead weight, asleep. Adam blinked, lifting his head. In the night, he and Kenny had shifted. Kenny’s head laid on his bicep as he slept. His hand rested on Adam’s chest, fingers crooked. Needing blood flow back in his fingers, Adam slipped his arm out from under Kenny’s head. He sat-up in the bed, careful not to jostle the mattress too much. Adam opened and closed his hand, fingertips tingling painfully. He looked down at Kenny. 

His hair was in total disarray, tangled on the pillows. A little bit of drool welled at the corner of his parted lips and he breathed rough, long, slow. Without Adam, he turned onto his side. Adam slid out of the bed. He found his jeans and changed back into his clothes. Adam stepped into his boots and returned to the kitchen. He rummaged in the fridge, the options were meager. Eggs, ketchup, cheese, milk, and luckily, a pack of bacon— probably stuff Kenny bought specifically for breakfast, based on the large container of protein powder beside the fridge. He poked through the cabinets and found the flour from last night, but also sugar, baking powder, cheap imitation vanilla, and salt. 

Adam was methodical as he cracked eggs to scramble and for pancakes. He whipped-up the batter in a bowl and found the frying pans in a lower drawer. The back burner slow-cooked bacon with a tantalizing sizzle and on a front burner, Adam cooked the pancakes. Making just enough for him and Kenny. He cleaned-up as he went, leaving dishes on the drying rack. He did the eggs last, scrambling them with cheese and pepper, when he heard the water run, indicating Kenny was up and using the bathroom. A few minutes later Kenny wandered into the kitchen, rubbing the heel of his hands over his eyes. He paused in the doorway, gaping as Adam assembled two plates of pancakes, eggs, and bacon.

“Mornin’,” Adam grunted, as he took a knife and fork out of the drawer. He walked over to the table and sat down. 

“You made breakfast? I should invite you over more, geez,” Kenny said. He sat down with his plate. “Did you sleep, okay?”

“Not too bad,” Adam said. He watched as Kenny took a bite of eggs and grinned as Kenny moaned almost obscenely. “Was pretty nice sleeping next to you.”

“Well, cowboy, you can do that anytime you want,” Kenny promised. He tapped his fingers against the table. “So, I guess you’re heading out then?”

“Yeah, I gotta,” Adam said. “I got a seven-hour drive, training and working-out to get on, and like, I’m bleeding money paying my neighbor’s daughter to watch my dogs. But uh, this, thing, last night, it was fun? We should do it again.”

“Including the cuddling?” Kenny asked, propping his chin against his hand. He picked-up a piece of bacon between his fingers and cheekily tore a piece off. “I couldn’t agree more. Especially, if you’re going to cook like this.”

“Definitely the cuddling, you’re a pretty good hand warmer,” Adam nodded. He scrapped the last of the eggs onto his fork and polished it off with some pancake. He stood-up and took his plate to the sink while Kenny finished eating. 

Kenny followed Adam out as he returned to his car. They hugged and Adam settled into the driver seat. He recalled the inane story he spun last night, where they go back to the indies and pretended the past year didn’t happen. It wasn’t fleeting because it was impossible. It was simply too late. As Adam turned the ignition he wondered if he could convince Kenny to come back with him to North Carolina instead. Just hide there until the next Dynamite or something. Steal a little bit more time. He put the car in the reverse and let the thought die under the rear wheels. 

[littlestarofthewest]

Title: Returning the Favor | Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female Reader

Rating: Explicit | Words:  2981 | Tags: power dynamics, smut, cunnilingus, mildly dubious consent (both are able and willing, but it’s a wonky situation)

Summary:  You get robbed by the most handsome man you've ever seen and he disappears into the night. What do you do when he comes back bringing you a gift?

You quickly make your way along the empty street. It's getting dark, meaning that the decent folks head home while the night makes room for the delinquents. So far, you've been fine, mainly since people around here know that you're a woman who can hold her own and that you're carrying a nasty six-shooter that quickly ends discussions that are not going your way.

Tonight, you're unarmed, though. You made some extra dollars cleaning the Jefferson house, and Mrs. Jefferson won't have anybody with a gun on her property except for her guards.

You turn a corner, and the small hairs on your back stand up. The alley in front of you is pitch black. It's probably not a good idea to head that way, but that alley brings you right to your doorstep, and you can avoid walking past the saloon. 

After a deep breath, you rush through the narrow passage. Nothing happens. The moonlight illuminates the street before you, and you're only a couple of steps away from your home. It's still too far. You know the second you hear footsteps that you're in trouble. 

A dark figure steps out into the street right in front of you, the moonlight  glistening on the barrel of the stranger's gun. It's pointed at your chest. "I'm very sorry about this, Miss, but I have to check you for valuables."

The deep voice sends shivers down your spine, but fancy words don't change the fact that you hate to be bullied. "That's an impressing way to phrase a robbery."

The man lifts his head just a fraction, his face no longer hidden by his hat. You should probably wonder why he's not wearing a mask while robbing you, but you're too stunned by his looks. He's the most handsome man you've ever seen, with bright eyes and a nicely trimmed beard that invites you to touch it.

"Not trying to be impressive, Miss," the stranger says. 

Not that he has to try, he just is. A head taller than you, his shoulders are so broad that there's no way for you around him, no matter how quick you are. He takes a step forward, holding the gun a little higher. "You wanna give me what you have or do I have to take a look myself?"

Usually, you wouldn't be caught dead being touched by a stranger, but this one's at least a looker. If you're getting robbed, you might as well get something out of it. And who knows, maybe there's still a way to turn this around. "I only got a few dollars. You're welcome to see for yourself." 

The man raises his brows, clearly surprised. You have to hold in a laugh. It seems that Mr. Tough-Guy made an empty threat and wasn't planning on touching you at all. He clears his throat before stepping closer. "Don't move," he says, but his voice lost a little of its bravado.

You hold out your arms, and he runs his hand along your waist, checking for hidden treasures under your belt. After barely touching you, he grabs your pouch and takes a look inside. As he takes out the money from your cleaning job, you take your chance. With a swift movement, you grab his gun, and for a second you think you've got him. Then his hands grab both of your wrists. He presses you against the nearest wall with so much force that it pushes the air out of your lungs. 

The man steps closer, his whole body boxing you in as he holds both your arms up against the wall. "Don't make me hurt you, miss," he growls, and there's an edge to his voice that finally makes you see the danger you're in.

"Can't blame a girl for trying," you manage to say, not ready to play the frightened victim, no matter how cold you suddenly feel.

The stranger runs his eyes all over your body as if to check that there's no other threat. His gaze drives away the cold, heating your body in a way that's utterly inappropriate for the situation. After a moment, the man presses himself against you, holding you in place while he lets one of your arms go to take the gun out of your hand. He holsters it while looking you dead in the eye, and you know what that means. He doesn't need a weapon to contain you.

"Still don't have more than those few dollars," you say, wondering what he will do about that.

"I don't need your money," he says, taking a step back and bringing your arms down in front of you. "I'll just take this."

Without warning, he slides a silver ring from your finger, and it disappears in his pocket before you get your bearings. Stepping farther away from you, he trains his gun at you again, backing away. "Now, you stay there for a bit, and we'll forget that this ever happened."

You wish you could, but there's a reason you clean houses of old hags instead of pawning a valuable ring. "That belonged to my mother," you say, unable to keep the grief out of your voice. "Please, mister, I can get you more money."

He freezes on the spot, considering your words. "I'll bring it back. Promise."

Before you can argue about it, he disappears into the dark. You run after him, but there's a soft whistle, and then you hear a horse galloping away. "You bastard!" you scream after him, not caring that other thieves might be around. They better not try anything with you tonight.

------

It's been a week since you lost your most valuable possession. Now, you don't care about Mrs. Jefferson's stupid rule and bring your gun along wherever you go. Standing in front of your door, you feel a sense of dread. You turn around, pointing your gun at the stranger behind you.  

"Good evening, miss," he says, walking into the light. 

"You got some nerve, coming back here," you growl.

The man holds up his hands and dares to smile at you. You hate that it makes him even more attractive. "Promised to bring this back," he says, holding up a small object. 

Your ring is glistening in the dim light. "Why?" you ask, not quite believing what you see.

"See, I was just trying to help a friend who found himself in jail," he explains, "I didn't mean to rob you at all."

"How would my ring get your friend out of jail?"

"Pawned the ring, played some poker, got the ring back, paid the bounty," he says. "So thank you for getting my friend out, I guess."

You wish you could say something witty, but the man seems to tell the truth. If he does, it's impressive, but what really gets you is how thoughtful he was about it. "You bought my ring?"

"You said it was your mother's. I didn't want to cause any grieve."

He takes a step forward, holding out the ring at arm's length so you can grab it without having him close. You hold up your hand, and he drops the ring into your palm, stepping away again. "I figure that makes us even. We can go our separate ways, and nobody needs to know."

It's reasonable and precisely what you should do, but you've never been reasonable a day in your life. The fact that he got you still burns hot in your chest, and deep down, you know you won't forget him that easily. Besides, you don't want to let him go just yet.

"Even?" you blurt out. "I already grieved for a week, not knowing that I would get the ring back. You robbed me, and you assaulted me. We're not even."

He nods solemnly at the words. "Fair point. Then what do you suggest we do?"

You look him over, and despite telling yourself that you should just walk away, another voice deep inside reminds you how well built this man is, how polite, and how complicit. It makes all kinds of wrong ideas pop up in your head.

"What's your name?" you ask.

"Taci-," he says, but stops himself by biting his lip. "Arthur, it's Arthur."

He could have easily given you a fake name, but he chose not to. You know how he looks, you have your ring back, and you still have your gun pointed at him. Right now, you're holding all the cards, most of them because he freely gave them to you. 

"Come over here," you say, sounding much more in control than you feel. Arthur considers you for a moment, but then he comes closer, and you step back into an alley that goes by your house. "Closer."

"I hope you're not planning on shooting me," he says, but follows you anyway.

"Would you beg for your life?"

"No," he says, and you know it to be true. He might do as you say, but it's his choice. He doesn't fear you or your gun. It makes matters even more exciting.

Your heart pounds faster at the thought what you're about to do. It's madness, but that's what makes it so appealing. You point your gun to the ground. "On your knees. Right here."

Again, Arthur considers you for a moment, but then he walks over without pause, falling to his knees, right into the dirt at your feet. The sight of him as he looks up to you is intoxicating, and you feel the warmth growing between your legs. "You'll do exactly as I say or I'll shoot. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"Lift up my skirt," you say, and Arthur keeps looking at your face while his hands reach for the fabric without hesitation. As he lifts it up, you can feel the cold air around your legs, making you shiver slightly. 

You use your free hand to stick your skirt into your belt, keeping it in place. Then you nod to Arthur. "Pull down my underwear."

You had partners undress you before, but giving the orders turns you on more than you thought. Arthur does as you say, but his head is down, and you miss his intense gaze. You reach down and tip your fingers against his chin. "Eyes up here, cowboy."

Arthur looks up, and despite the dim light, you think that he's blushing a little bit. You can't believe that he's that innocent, but right now, the sight does wonders to the heat in your lower belly. Even worse is the thought of how this must look for someone who walks by. You're more exposed than you've ever been in your life, but having Arthur in front of you like this makes you feel powerful at the same time. 

You take Arthur's hat, putting it on your own head before fisting your fingers into his hair. As you pull him closer, you whisper: "Now, if you want us to be even, you better do a good job."

Arthur keeps looking up to you, his cheeks even more flushed. "Yes, ma'am."

If you weren't already burning, his obedient tone might do the trick. Eager to finally get what you want, you force his face between your legs. 

At first, Arthur's tender, brushing his lips over your skin as if he's kissing your mouth. It takes all your willpower not to push him further, and it pays off. The kissing and nibbling arouse you more and more and the first time his hot tongue brushes over you, it feels like a stroke from a whip, hitting deep into your core. 

You put away the gun, needing your hand free to hold on to a nearby post. Arthur doesn't notice. He keeps licking you with long, hot strokes before dipping the tip of his tongue between your lips. For a moment, you feel embarrassed about how wet you are, but then Arthur moans between your legs. "Jesus, girl," he curses before diving back in.

His eagerness spurs you on to move, and you roll your hips, grinding against Arthur's face. You try your best not to be too rough, but Arthur keeps moaning, uncaring if anybody hears it. Then he begins to shift his legs, and as you look down, you can see the bulge between his legs. You let him wiggle for a moment, before putting your boot right between his legs.

Arthur stops moving immediately, his deep breaths the only sound in the narrow alley. You move just enough that your boot touches him, but without any pressure. "I wouldn't move too much if I were you," you tease. "After all, we won't want you to get too comfortable, right?"

"Right, miss," Arthur breathes, "of course."

"Back to work then, honey."

You still have your hand in Arthur's hair, but you don't need to push him. He buries himself between your legs, his soft beard brushing along your thighs as he licks and sucks as if his life depends on it. You wish you could give him more orders, but all you can focus on is the tension building up between your legs. 

At first, you don't even notice how Arthur's hand glides from your body upwards, but then he carefully cups your breast with his large hand, knitting the soft flesh. When you don't object, he gets more daring. With his thumb, he keeps rubbing the same spot until your nipple stands up, pressing through the thin fabric.

While his tongue dives into you, he squeezes your nipple between his fingers. Your hips buck, and this time it's you who can't hold in a moan. His hand moves to your other breast, and you can feel his other hand against your leg. It slowly rides up with a firm grip as if he wants you to know what he's doing. You have a chance to stop him, but no intention to do so.

Arthur leans back a bit, his tongue dragging over your clit in slow strokes. Then he runs his fingers along your folds, getting them wet. He moves one finger deeper inside, still giving you an out. Instead, you push down on it, making him grown. No longer teasing, he adds a second finger, sliding in and out of you at a slow pace. 

Not for long, though. Your insides are burning, and with the way Arthur teases all your weak spots, there's no chance you can hold on much longer. Desperate to feel more, you tighten your grip on his hair and hold on to him while grinding over his face. Without meaning to, your boot pushes down a little, and after an initial curse, Arthur moves under you, rubbing against your boot. 

He keeps moaning between your legs, each sound spurring you on even more. He no longer has a chance to do much but hold on to you. You use his fingers and face as you please, bringing yourself closer and closer to the edge. When you can feel that you're about to come, you press Arthur so close that he can't breathe. His sounds are muffled, and he struggles to move but can't escape. Having that power over him is all that you need, and you come so hard that your whole body shakes. 

You hold on to Arthur for just a moment longer, and his hands grip your thighs as if he wants to push you off, but ops to dig into your flesh instead. Then his body goes rigid, and you pull back his head to see his face as he comes himself, his cock twitching under your boot. It can't be comfortable, but he moans like any whore you ever heard, hips bucking till he's all spent.

You finally let go off him and hold on to the wall behind you instead. Both of you take your time to just breathe for a while. Then you pull out a handkerchief and hand it to him. There's no use cleaning yourself up with it. You're so wet, you can feel your juice smeared all over your thighs, so you just pull down your dress.

Arthur is cleaning himself up, still on his knees. It's strange to look at him. You know nothing about him, but after what just happened, you can hardly call him a stranger. 

He holds up the handkerchief for you to take, his gaze almost bashful. "Are we even now?"

"Yes," you say, not able to tease him anymore, "we're even."

You put away the handkerchief and offer Arthur your hand to get up. He's heavy, not quite able to stand yet, so he leans against the wall next to you. After a quick glance at his pants, he looks over to you. "You're an evil woman."

"Am I?" you say, laughing.

He nods. "Wish I would have met you years ago."

You take a look at his pants as well and regret that you didn't really see him come. Arthur catches your eye and winks at you as if he knows exactly what you're thinking. You quickly look away, trying not to blush, and your eyes move further down.

"Since I made you kneel down in the dirt, how about you come inside and clean yourself up," you suggest. "This is my house right here."

"You want me to come inside?" Arthur says, a nasty grin playing around his lips.

You hit his shoulder but nod. "As long as you don't steal anything."

"Wouldn't dream of it. Promise."

"Go on then, cowboy," you say, moving your hand to the handle of your gun.

Arthur lifts up his hands and walks in front of you as if you're holding him at gunpoint. It gives you an excellent chance to check out the goods from behind, and boy, do you like what you're seeing. 

This is going to be a long night.