#but im getting more radiation from the ground here in this state anyways

[geoledgy]

My torbernite is so pretty look at it

and here's monazite with torbernite too

[spideymarvelws]

Playing truth or dare with college!Peter and MJ dares you to give him a (private) lap dance

This turned out to be much longer than expected

Main Masterlist / Add Yourself To My Taglists

Warnings : SMUT! (Lap dance?ish?kind of? i went a bit of script im sorry, thigh riding, grinding, dirty talk, dom!peter, innocence kink, corruption kink?, masterbation, oral[male rec], mild degrading), alcohol consumption, everyone is 18+, kinda fluffy in the beginning but we do be getting smutty real quick tho, MJ being your personal wing woman

Also please dont take drinks from strangers this is fiction and not real life, always drink responsibly :)))

Word Count : 4.8k

Behind Doors

Fratboy!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

You tried to keep your staring to a minimum, you really did. But how could you when he stood in the middle of the crowd, glowing like an angel amongst everyone. He was laughing with his friends, his head tilted back with his eyes squeezed shut and a smile that could make anyone's day so much brighter. You wanted nothing more but to run your hands through his floppy brown hair bouncing on his head as he told his mates a story, his facial and hand movements lively when he moved them around, accentuating the words falling from his mouth.

His fit didn’t help either. A tight white t-shirt paired with blue jeans and a gold chain that hung from his neck, begging to be played with in any way. It was simplistic but made you swoon all the same. His muscles printed through the fabric didn’t help much either, his biceps almost tearing through the sleeves a mouth watering contrast to his cheerful face.

It was like staring at a greek god that radiated puppy dog energy.

“You’re not being subtle you know,” MJ whispered into you ear nudging your side with her elbow, “Just go talk to him,”

You shook your head, heat rising to your face as you averted your eyes from the brown eyed boy, turning to face your best friend, “You know i can’t do that,”

“Not with that you aren’t,” she pointed at the red solo cup you held in your hand filled halfway with orange juice. She quickly snatched the cup away from you, dumping the contents in the grass of the backyard.

“Hey!” You gasped, but made no effort to stop her.

“You need to loosen up,” she stabbed her finger into the middle of your chest, shoving her drink into your hands, “All of it, now,”

You took the cup hesitantly swirling the contents inside around for a bit, watching as the liquid moved smoothly around the sides of the plastic. You looked back up at MJ, feeling small when she stared you down with a stern look. You knew you weren’t finding a way out of this one.

“Fine,” you grumbled before tilting your head back, chugging the alcohol down. You let out a few coughs afterwards, giggling as MJ started to cheer.

“That’s my girl!” She wrapped her arm around your shoulder, pulling you into her side, “Now for about five more,”

Two hours and four drinks later, or maybe it was six you weren't keeping count, the party finally started to die down. The liquor running through your system did its job well in letting you loosen up so you could enjoy the party without being distracted by a certain brown haired boy.

You had lost MJ halfway through the night, your mind finally processing that she wasn’t by your side when you reached for her to dance with you. As you busied yourself by looking around the room, you felt someone place their hand on your lower back, sending shivers up your spine with the touch. You whipped your head around, expecting your equity intoxicated friend but only to be met with the same brown eyes you’ve been fawning over at the beginning of the night.

“Hey,” he said into your ear so that you heard it over all the noise. He moved his hand off your back after he got your attention. You tried your best to keep the tiny whine from escaping your throat at the loss of his touch. The free feeling you felt with the alcohol completely vanished with the sound of his voice turning you into that shy nerd all over again.

“Looking for someone?” He said, pushing the tips of his fingers into the front pockets of his pants.

You stood speechless, you mouth agape that Peter Parker, the Peter Parker was talking to you. MJ was wrong, no amount of alcohol could’ve prepared you for the moment. At least you didn't scurry away like a mouse like you would’ve if you were fully sober.

“I- uh,” you coughed, trying to get some words out but failing miserably.

“Sorry, It’s just I saw you looking around,” he scratched the back of his neck, chuckling at your flustered state. His cheeks starting to turn a light pink which made you swoon even harder, “I assume you’re looking for MJ, since you were with her for most of the night,”

“Oh, right,” you mumbled, laughing awkwardly, looking down to the ground, “How did you know I was with her?”

“You guys are always together!” He smiled showing off his pearly whites, “Around campus you know? I’ve seen you guys together in my classes as well,”

“You noticed me?” You whispered, mainly to yourself but he managed to pick up your words, making you even more embarrassed than before.

“Of course!” He passed his hand through his hair, looking straight into your eyes, “How could I not Y/n?”

You stood speechless, your mouth opening and closing as if you wanted to say something but changed your mind last minute. Millions of thoughts ran through your brain per second, the most frequent being your name rolling off his tongue.

“Anyways, uh, the main reason i came was to bring you to MJ,” he chuckled nervously, seeming just as flustered as you, “She’s in one of the spare bedrooms with some of the boys, we’re playing a good ole’ game of truth and dare,” he voice raised adorably, making you giggle lightly, “You don’t need to join or anything, but i don’t think you would want to be alone out here,”

“Yeah!” you replied a bit to quickly, shaking your head at your enthusiasm, “I mean, yeah, I would like to join you,”

“Sick!” He smiled brightly, grabbing your hand. Your eyes widened at the action as he pulled you through the crowd, you looked down at the ground, allowing him to maneuver you around the mass of bodies.

“Just so you don’t get lost,” he said, looking back at you, pointing out your intertwined hands.

“Of course!” You said back, holding back your squeals of excitement.

You were honestly surprised with how sweet he was acting towards you. Despite his status as part of the biggest frat on campus, his reputation upholded him as the good boy of the group, the one who helped old lady’s across the street or bought lunch for you when you didn't have the money. Sure, you saw this on multiple occasions but to experience it for yourself was a nice change, and just solidified your crush on him even more.

When he reached the stairway vacant of anybody, he still didn't let go of your hand, only tightening his fingers around yours. He walked down the dark hallway and approached a door ,giving you a reassuring smile before turning the knob and pushing it open, revealing around eight or nine people. Some laid on the bed, beers in hand as they laughed while others sat on the couch. You spotted MJ on the floor, laughing with Harry Osborn.

“Who’s the chick Parker?” One of the boys said, silencing the room and putting everyone's attention on you.

“This is Y/n,” he gestured towards you, “Y/n, everyone,” Peter finally let go of your hand, popped himself on the edge of the bed, picking up a beer from the side table and nodding his head at the empty space besides him.

You looked towards MJ panicked, but all she did was mouth ‘go’ with a shit eating grin. You sneered back at her, rolling your eyes as you walked up to the bed, bending your right leg back to sit on your calf while the other dangled over the edge.

“You’ll be fine, don’t worry,” Peter leaned into your ear, whispering gently, “Again, you don’t have to do anything you don’t have to,”

You pouted at his actions, melting at the fact that he was so observant with you. You looked down at his beer, before looking back up at him. If you were going to get through the rest of the night, you needed to be absolutely wasted.

“Do you have another beer?” You asked him, pointed to his bottle.

“You could just have mine,” he offered his drink, passing it off to you.

You bit your lip, taking a long swig of the liquid, “Thank you,”

Before the both of you could converse any longer, a girl with short blond hair you knew from English, called out from the corner, “Okay, okay, who wants to go next?”

“I think Y/n should go,” flash said, holding up his bottle towards you, “She’s the new one isn’t she?”

Peter looked at you, silently asking if you needed him to say anything. But you decided to take things into your own hands for the first time that night.

“Yeah, I’ll go,” you said, taking another swig of beer.

“Alright Y/n,” Harry said smugly, leaning back on his forearm, “Truth or dare?”

You thought about it for a bit, missing the smug look on MJ’s face as you muttered, “Dare”

“I dare you to give Peter a lap dance,” she said immediately, leaning back as she held in her laugh at your washed out face, “I mean we could send you to the other room if you want more privacy,”

You sat speechless and once again wanted to melt into the sheets beneath you. You felt Peter’s hand wrap around yours, giving him your attention.

“Only if you want to,” he muttered, giving you a soft smile.

“I-,” you took a deep breath, trying to gather the little confidence you had left, “Which room?”

Hollers and shouts bounced off the walls, as everyone hyped both of you up. Peter stood, pulling you up with him, leading you out the room.

“Take as much time as you need!” You heard MJ shout after you before the door closed, leaving you and Peter alone once again.

Your heart pounded inside your chest as Peter guided you once again to another room. You gulped, wondering if you had made the right decision so give a lap dance to your crush. He didn’t say anything as he knocked on a door, opening it when he didn't hear any noise come from the room.

“After you,” he said politely.

“Thank you,” you said shyly, walking to the middle of the room.

Peter closed the door behind him, leaning against the wood, “Sooooo,” he dragged looking you up and down, “I- uh, didn't expect you to say yes,”

“Me neither,” you chuckled, looking down to the floor.

“I mean if you don’t want to, it’s just a silly bet,” Peter said, fiddling with his fingers.

“Do-,” you coughed, “Do you want me too?”

“It’s up to you really,”

“But would you mind if i-“

“I mean I wouldn’t be against it-,”

You both laughed nervously falling into silence after that. You looked around the room, finding interest with everything besides him. You were fidgety, playing with your fingers while tapping your foot on the floor rapidly to calm your nerves. It was stupid, you’ve been dreaming about him for so long, and now that you were finally in a room together you clamed up, not knowing what to do in his presence.

Peter on the other hand kept his gaze on you, his eyes racking your body up and down. He wasn't going to lie to himself and say that he’d never thought of this moment, the moment where you and him were finally together, in a room, all alone.

You were different from the girls he was used to in the frat. You were untouched, well to his knowledge, you were a clean slate and from the small confrontations he’s had with you, he could tell you were obedient too.

He wanted so bad to just have his way with you, to absolutely ravish you like he did in his dreams. But he wanted to savour it. After so long of watching you pin over him, purely to feed his ego, he was ready to take things to the next level and what better way than with a good lap dance. Sure he was the good guy, both as himself and as his alternate persona as a hero, but when it comes to you, all his morals were thrown out the window.

Besides, you were both intoxicated and he didn't want your first time together to be at a stupid party in a room he was barely familiar with.

After a few more seconds of silence, Peter decided to take things into his own hands, to make his fantasy a reality, or to just get it started at least. He was the first to make a move, walking right up to you, taking your chin between his fingers, tilting your head up to look at him while his other hand made its way to the side of your waist, pulling you closer.

“Y/n?” He asked, swiping his thumb across your lips. He may have an unhealthy obsession with them but it didnt matter because in the next few moments he would make them his, “I’m not stupid you know,”

You blinked rapidly, tilting your head to the side at his statement, confused and slightly hurt.

Peter only chuckled, slipping his thumb between your lips for a split second before pulling it back out and resting it back on your plump lip, testing the waters, “I said i noticed you, and when I mean I noticed you,” he leaned forward, placing his lips near your ear, “I meant everything, down to the constant heart eyes,”

You held your breath, not knowing how to feel, what to think. Peter Parker, the Peter Parker, was standing in front of you, playing with your lips with such close proximity, telling you that he was aware of your existence. That there was a chance that he might feel the same way about you.

You had to remind yourself that this was just a bet, that he didn’t mean anything he was saying. He was only doing it because he had to. Even if he was a sweet boy by heart, he still had a reputation for sleeping around, that to him you were just another girl to add to his collection. 

But when he pushed his thumb into your mouth, you knew you'd fall victim as well.

“Mhh,” he hummed, “such a good girl, just like i knew you’d be,” suddenly, he pulled his thumb out of your mouth and sat back down on the bed, pulling you to straddle his lap, “Now, i believe you have a dare to fulfill,”

“I- uh,” you stuttered, hesitantly placing your hands on his shoulder as you settled into his hold.

“You’ve never done this before, have you princess?” Peter mumbled, hovering his lips over yours.

“i-,” you shook your head, lost for words when he called you princess.

He hummed, one of his hands gripping your waist while the other laided on your cheek, rubbing the soft skin with his thumb, “Let’s start off slow then,” his thumb moved to your mouth once more, playing with the bottom lip. You sat frozen, letting him take control. You didn't trust your body to move, you could barely even talk.

“I’ve always wondered what it was like to kiss these perfect lips,” he whispered, moving to kiss your neck, trailing his way up to the corner of your mouth, “I’d imagine you’ve though the same,”

You nodded, tightening your hold on his shoulders. Peter laughed, his breath hot on your face.

“You’re going to need to say something if you want me to continue princess,”

“Yes,” you squeaked, clearing your throat, embarrassed by your quick response, “Yes, I-uh, I’ve thought about this, yeah,”

“Hmm, good,” he mumbled before finally latching his lips on yours, keeping your face close with his hand.

His lips were rougher that you imagined, probably from constantly licking them for most of the night. But the more you kissed, your mouths opening and closing with each other like its own dance, the more wet and lustful it became. You could feel your body begin to relax into his, melting into the warmth. His confidence only grew with the soft moans escaping your mouth, quickly slipping his tongue inside when your lips parted, exploring your mouth with vigour and purpose.

Your breath hitched in response, using your own tongue to match his movements and tangling it with his, fighting for dominance you were sure he was going to win. Your fingers ran through his hair, tugging at the short curls at the base of his neck, smiling when he groaned into your mouth. You beamed at him when you finally pulled away, a string of spit connected your lips.

“This seems more than just a lap dance,” you let out a shaky sigh, resting your forehead against his.

He chuckled, using his hands to bring your hips closer to his crotch, your dress rolling further up around your waist.

“Then what are you waiting for,” he said cockily, leaning back on his forearms, looking back at you expectantly.

You let out a breath, readjusting yourself on his lap before moving your hips slowly. Your pussy barely made contact with his now hard cock poking through his jeans, teasing it ever once in a while when your panties brushed the tent. You smirked, despite not knowing what the hell you were doing, it seemed like you were doing a decent job.

“Don’t get to cocky princess,” he groaned, squeezing your waist tightly, “You forget that I’m the one in charge here,”

You bit your lip, muttering a soft sorry.

He hummed, nudging his nose with yours, “Let me help you then,” 

He grasped your hips, pulling your it closer to his crotch, grinding it against your core. You let him guide you with his hands, following his lead supporting yourself with your own hands clutching on to his shoulder.   

He let out a long sigh, his head falling back. You took that as the queue to grind faster, enjoying the effect you had on him with such a simple movement. Your confidence grew with the noises escaping his throat along with the occasional praise only fueling your need.

In a rush of the moment, you moved your hands to the back of his neck, pulling him into a needy kiss. It was much more sloppier and messier than the previous one, your focus more on moving your hips than keeping your lips in sync with his.

But you wanted more. As much as you enjoyed Peter’s eyes trailing your body, his hands exploring your waist and the angelic look on his face, you couldn't help but wonder if it stopped there. If you could make his moans louder, his hips jut against your with need, just as much as you needed him.

After a few more moments, an idea popped into your head with the faint sound of music coming from downstairs.

“Peter,” you decided to purr in your ear, biting your lip when his eyes fluttered open, dark and filled with lust.

“Yes princess,” He cooed, moving his hands back to your waist while keeping eye contact, brushing his lips over yours. But before he could fully kiss you, you pulled away, giggling at the little whine he let out.

“What is it?” he pouted, rolling his eyes when you didn’t respond, only biting your lip in thought. He grabbed your jaw, focussing your gaze back on him, “You were being such a good girl, what happened hmm?”

“I- I have an idea,” you gulped, the confidence you felt seconds ago melting away under his stare, “Do you have a speaker?”

He nodded his head, pointed to a desk in the corner with a small black speaker sitting on top. You smirked, hopping off his lap and running to the box. Peter leaned back on hands, watching with curious eyes as you pulled out your phone from your jacket pocket, tapping it open and typing in your password.

“What’s going through that head of your princess,” he mumbled, but loud enough for you to hear.

You only giggled in response, playing around with the speaker to turn in on. After a few more seconds of fiddling, you spun around with your phone in hand and a teasing smile on your face. Your finger pressed down on the screen, the room filling with the song Love Is A Bitch by Two Feet.

He scoffed, “And here I am thinking you were just an innocent little thing,” 

You bit your lip, looking down shyly and placing your phone on the table, your back facing him, “I just wanted to set the mood,”

“Was grinding down on me not enough?” he teased, “Are you always this greedy?”

You let out a breath before turning around, your heart practically beating out of your chest, “Only with you,”

You glanced up at the brunette face, nervous that maybe you took it too far. It was just a simple lap dance, nothing more and nothing less and you should've kept it that way. But the kiss was addicting, keeping you in a daze where all you wanted was more. More of his touch, his mouth, his taste.

You’ve wanted him for so long and now that you dipped your toes in the waters, you wanted to dive in and never come out. What really kept you going was his reactions to your touch, the small grunts and moans escaping his mouth because of you. He wanted this as much as you did or else he would’ve shut you down by now, right?

You were just getting ahead of yourself.

“Come here Y/n,” he almost growled, his eyes never leaving you while you shuffled your way between his legs, yelping when he gripped your waist and pulled you back down. Instead of straddling his waist, he moved you so your legs were on either side of his left thigh.

You went to speak but the gripped your jaw with his forefinger and thumb, forcing your eyes on him.

“You never fail to surprise me princess,” he whispered, his free hand trailing up your waist, brushing past your breasts, “I thought I had to treat you like a good girl, take my time with you” he chuckled darkly, “Turns out you need this just as much as I do, my greedy, desperate little thing,”

You bit your lip, tucking your head in the crook of his neck to avoid his stare. The pet names he gave you was already enough to leave you a mess but adding ‘my’ in front of it made you melt. You wanted to be his, you wanted him to take control of your body and use you as he pleased. He adjusted his thigh, having it bump against your clothed pussy. Heat rose to your face when you let out a small whimper, settling back on his leg, craving the friction but you didn’t move, waiting for specific instructions.

“You weren’t so shy before, what happened?” he kissed the shell of your ear, “Go on princess, ride my thigh like the desperate whore I know you are,” 

Without thinking you began to grind your pussy along his thigh, your face growing hotter when you felt the wetness seep on to his jeans. Peter kept his hands on your waist, keeping your movements at his own past, occasionally bouncing his leg, enjoying the little whines you let out. When you started moving faster, he knew you were nearing your high.

“Princess, look at me,” he grunted,“I want to see that pretty face when you cum,”

You let out a shaky sigh, pulling your head up to face him but you could barely keep your head up, too concentrated on moving your hips against the rough fabric of his jeans. He quickly recognised this and wrapped his hand around your throat, squeezing lightly to get some of your attention. 

“Peter,” you whimpered, near to tears with how close you were to climaxing, “Peter please,”

“What is it princess? You want to cum? Is that it?”

You nodded quickly, “Please,”

“Go ahead princess,” he grinned, smashing his lips against your to swallow your moans as you came on his thigh, your hips moving in slow strokes to prolong the feeling. You pulled away after a few moments of feverish kissing, your arms falling limp around his shoulders.

“Fuck,” you sighed, your forehead falling against his with the breathless laugh, “That was-”

“Great? Amazing? The best experience of your life?” he laughed, falling back against the mattress, pulling you down with him. You giggled, shoving your face in his neck and inhaling his comforting scent.

“Yeah,” you turned your head to face him, pouting when a piece of his hair fell in front of his stunning eyes. You moved it out of his face, kissing his nose in the process, “I liked it a lot,”

“That’s good, that’s good,” he whispered, tightening his arms around you.

All of a sudden you felt something poke at the inside of your thigh. It took you a few moments to realise that he was hard and was probably aching to get off at this point in the night. 

“Do- do you want me to help?” you said shyly, sitting up on your hands to fully face him.

“You don't have to princess,” his hands passed up and down your waist, “Seeing you fall apart from my thigh is all I needed tonight,”

The twitch of his eye and dryness of his lips told you otherwise. 

“Are you sure?” you bit your lip, moving your hand slowly down to his hard on, “because I don’t mind helping Petey,”

You didn’t know where the nickname came from but it was too late to take it back. Judging by the dark look in his eyes and the almost cynical look on his face he didn’t mind.

“You want to help me princess? Are you sure you know what you’re in for?”

You shook your head eagerly, “Just tell me what you want,”

“And what if i want you to suck my cock?”

“I would do it,”

“Do what?”

“Su- suck your cock,” you replied bashfully looking down at your hands now intertwined on his stomach.

“Aww, is my princess getting shy?” he fake pouted, “After getting off on my thigh like a slut, you’re getting shy about taking me in your mouth?”

“I-”

“It’s alright princess i’ll guide you through it,” he reached down to unzip his jeans, shuffling awkwardly to push them down so he could get his member out. You watched as his hard dick slapped against his chest, big and throbbing.

He moved your hips back so that you straddled his legs this time, taking your hand and raising it to your mouth.

“Spit,” he instructed, looking up at you with hunger, “Now,”

You hesitantly spit into your hand, watching in awe as the wad fell into your hand.

“Good girl,” he sighed, moving your hand to wrap your small finger around the base of his cock, “Have you ever jerked someone off princess?”

“Just two,” you respond hesitantly.

Peter gritted his teeth, trying to get the idea of you touching anyone else out of his mind, “Well let's make this your third and final guy hmm?” his breath hitched when you started to move your hand up and down his cock, “You’re mine now princess,”

In the spur of the moment you leaned down, licking the red tip of his member, “Only yours,” you whispered before taking him halfway in your mouth, gagging and pulling yourself back up.

“Take your time princess,” he gulped, “fuck but you could do that again if you’d like though,”

You giggled, licking and kissing the sides of his cock and taking it once more, reaching further than this time than you did the last. You bobbed your head continuously only raising your head to take a breath and going in again.

“Fuck princess, I knew your mouth would be good,” he groaned, “You’re doing so well, taking my cock so good down your throat, fuck!”

You smiled around his length, the back of your throat contracting around the tip making him moan your name. Before he could praise you even more, someone's voice cut his words off.

“Everything alright in there?” MJ said through the door but you were too lost in your daze to answer or recognise her voice.

“Yeah, we’re good,” Peter smirked, pushing you to take the rest of his cock, “We’re just going to take longer than expected,”

...

Part two maybe??

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Crossed out means i couldn't tag :(

[snickitty-snake]

hii may i have a sova x fem reader going shopping (i hope this doesn't sound too ooc)

Update: IM BACK FROM MY HIATUS!! And yes of course it’s right here :3

Shopping day (Sova X Reader)

This takes place before the rise of Venice and is based off of this player card

The trip sounded more organized in his head, luckily Brimstone was there to help everyone stay together.

“Yo Sova we’re gonna hit this store for some gelato, you comin?” Jett pointed with her thumb and the store behind her.

“No thank you I’m fine.” He shook his head dismissing her.

Jett shrugged and and quickly caught up with the rest of the agents, but one decided to break off from the group.

“Not a sweet tooth?”

Shifting to make room on the bench for the agent to sit down, he smiled at the many bags she juggled on her arms.

“Well you can say that, but I just have different tastes than the rest.”

Y/n tilted her head, but before she can inquire he quickly stood up, brushing off his clothes.

Seeing him outside of work, bags in hand rather than guns, casual wear instead of battle ready suits, she almost felt like they were normal friends than comrades.

"Here, I'll take your bags. We can keep walking around the plaza if you'd like." He took the bags from her arms, fingers gently grazing them.

"Ah- umm what about the others? Don't we have to..."

He let out a warm chuckle and started walking away from the gelato store. Y/n subconsciously followed in his steps, walking shoulder to shoulder.

"I think we're old enough to handle ourselves yes?" he thought for a moment before quickly adding. "Maybe Raze and the others need to be watched but that's what Brimstone is for."

They both let out a laugh, a slight air of awkwardness lingered between them but the conversation continued comfortably. Perhaps it was nerves coming from both of them.

Passing by each window of every store gave the two something to talk about until they started to circle back and a silence settled between them.

"..."

"..."

The girl looked around at the scenery, mentally beating herself to think of a subject to talk about with him.

Sova’s face had a soft expression but looked at the ground, raking through his mind to think of another topic until he realized his walking partner had fallen a few steps behind.

He back tracked, following the gaze of y/n to see that she was admiring a pair of rings that were shown off on two hands intertwining.

The polished silver could almost reflect the image of themselves back if looked close enough.

“Ah sorry let’s go.” She turned her heels and started walking at a fast pace.

Sova looked at her curiously with wide eyes, he turned back to look at the rings one more time before grabbing her shoulder.

“Don’t you want to get them?”

Her face showed visible surprise before quickly turning away from him.

“No! I mean, it’s fine really.” She looked down picking at her nails. “Wearing a ring isn’t practical in our line of ‘work’ anyway.”

Sova put a finger on his chin, nodding thoughtfully.

“I see but if you like them why not?”

“Well there’s two! And I’m pretty sure they’re made for couples anyway so it... it doesn’t matter just forget it!” Her cheeks flushed as she shook her head rapidly.

A soft smile made its way onto his face, a sincere look reached his eyes. Sova had a sudden wave of confidence, acting on it he quickly reached out to y/n’s hand holding it firmly.

“You’re lucky to have me yes?”

“...NO! NO! NO! I MEAN-“ Her eyes widened and she brought her free hand up to her face feeling the warmth radiating from it.

He laughs at her flustered state, cute, he thinks. ‘Maybe it’s time.’

“I’m sorry hahaha, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Not at all! It’s just...”

“HEY!! So this is what you have been doing while you were ditching us? Making out?!”

Raze jumped in between the two separating them to nudge herself through.

“What?? No! Absolutely not!” Y/n pulled away from her, defensively putting up her hands.

“Well it sure seems like it, I even have a picture.” Killjoy snorts holding up a Polaroid.

Sova sighs and shakes his head, the tables turn and now they’re both getting poked at and teased. ‘So close.’ He thought.

When they made it back to the base y/n was going through her haul before she noticed a small black box fell out. Quirking an eyebrow she slowly opened the box to find the same silver ring she saw at the display, this time it hung on a chain to be worn like a necklace.

‘...when did he?’ She traced the chain, opening up the clasp she put it on and admired it. ‘I wonder where’s the other ring...’

[solarwonux]

10.  “I still remember the way you taste.”

31.  “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

villain!wonwoo x superhero!f!reader

w.c: 2.6k (it was mistake okay I got carried away we should know this by now)

warnings: fluff, talks of death, ghosts, torture if you squint, graveyards, digging up graves (don’t do that yall), angst a little, it’s hinted that the reader can communicate with ghosts. (if you’re uncomfortable with any of these themes this one is not for you)

note: I CAN EXPLAIN OKAY I KNOW YOU WANTED JOKER WONWOO BUT LIKE IT STARTED OFF THAT WAY AND THEN I GOT SOFT. Enjoy let know your thoughts please, they mean so much to me. 

Also i will answer asks at some point, school is just keeping me super busy, BUT IM NOT IGNORING THEM THEY MAKE ME SMILE EVERY TIME I SEE THEM.

masterlist || drabble game

Wonwoo wiped the sweat off of his brow with the back of his hand, panting slightly as he stared down at the empty grave. “Remind me again why we’re doing this?” Vernon asked, digging his shovel into the ground with the heel of his boot. He rested his forearm against the handle looking at Wonwoo through his sweaty bangs. 

“There is no reason, I was just bored.” Wonwoo shrugged, his cheeks were dusted with dirt and his white dress shirt was anything but white. The truth was he had a reason, he needed a way to meet you halfway and causing chaos was the only way to get you out of that shiny tower in the middle of the city where all the heroes resided. But his reasoning would never be voiced out loud, especially not to Vernon and so he lied like it was second nature to him. 

Wonwoo missed you, He missed getting under your skin with his snarky remarks and idiotic plans to take over the world. Or at least the city. The world was his end goal, but in order to do that he needed to succeed at taking over the city first and so far he had failed. Mainly, do to you and your teammates interrupting his plans. Though along the way something unexpected happened. He had undoubtedly fallen truly, madly, deeply in love with you. It had annoyed him at first, his mind was constantly enveloped with thoughts of you. Interrupting everything he spent years working on. 

It took him months to come to terms with his unwanted feelings and if he hadn’t snuck into the masked ball held every year at the tower; he probably wouldn’t have. But the second he saw you come down the grand staircase of the ballroom wearing a dress so blue, it put the night sky to shame; he kissed you before he could stop himself. Despite the mask he was wearing you had spotted him in the crowd and led him down an empty hallway when his urges got the best of him causing him to sin. When he pulled away he was shocked just as you were, but he was definitely floored when you had cut his apology short and kissed him again. 

“So you decided to dig up an empty grave for fun?” Vernon pushed his dirt stained hand through his hand, leaving behind little specks of dirt in its wake. “How did you even know this grave would be empty?” 

“It’s mine...well used to be mine. Obviously I’m not dead.” Wonwoo’s nonchalant tone sent shivers up Vernon’s back. Once again he found himself wondering why the hell he always found himself going along with Wonwoo’s schemes. He knew there was a reason. Wonwoo never did anything without calculating all his moves beforehand, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the true reason, more so if he was going to find out soon anyway. His suspicions were confirmed when he caught sight of you. He should’ve known that this was just another one of Wonwoo’s ways to get to you. 

Vernon didn’t understand your relationship with Wonwoo, scientifically it didn’t make sense. In simple terms Wonwoo was hated by everyone and you on the other hand were not. But the two of you had snuck around for years up until the accident five months ago. Ever since then Wonwoo’s spirits were low and he was going mad. If he wasn’t holed up in his tiny room at the apartment he was bent over a desk mumbling to himself, trying to come up with ways in which he could see you again. All of Wonwoo’s attempts before this one had failed and to say he wasn’t surprised to see you sit down, legs hanging over the edge of the grave while looking down at Wonwoo lovingly, he would be lying. Though, he supposed it had to do with the fact that Wonwoo’s grave was dug up. 

“You guys having fun there?” Wonwoo jumped. He rapidly smoothed down his shirt, leaving behind streaks of dirt, and fixed his hair before turning around. A smug smile adorning his features. Vernon shook his head and rolled his eyes. Sometimes he missed the days in which Wonwoo wasn’t in love. 

“Princess what brings you here?” He winked. His clammy hands grew more wet as he leaned against the shovel, before it failed underneath his weight causing him to trip. Seeing you again was like a breath of fresh air, the pictures he kept of you and looked at every night did you no justice. For you shined brighter than the stars in the night sky and it always made Wonwoo’s heart skip a beat. 

“Cut the shit Wonwoo, I know you’ve been turning this city upside down at least once a week to get under my skin.” 

“Well, what was I supposed to do? You haven’t been answering my calls, texts or emails.” Wonwoo threw his hands up in disbelief and you rolled your eyes at his ignorance. 

“Apologize, that’s all you had to do and you wouldn’t be here digging your own grave...literally.” You huffed crossing your arms in front of you, ripping your eyes away from his. Suddenly the memory of the accident came lingering back. You knew, given his nature, Wonwoo was calculated. He used his powers to affiliate pain on his victims without moving a muscle to get what he wanted. Though, he had never used it on you, until that night. 

He had been blinded by rage and pain and you had never seen him use so much power in your years of knowing him. It scared you and when you had tried to coax him out of whatever state he was in. He did the one thing he promised he would never do. 

He used his abilities on you. 

Wonwoo sighed before hosting himself out of the hole and taking the empty seat next you. “I wanted to do it in person, but you never showed up.” He looked down at his hands playing with his fingers, twirling the ring on his pinky. His body was consumed with guilt as your screams of agony replayed in his head. Just like they did every night. He had never once felt anything but satisfaction and bliss whenever he used his powers on someone. In fact he loved the way his victims begged him to stop, that was until you were on the receiving end of his torture. 

“You know where I live. It’s a big shiny tower in the center of town. Pretty hard to miss honestly.” The airy playfulness of your voice made his stomach swirl. He truly missed you and not just on nights when the two of you gently explored each other's bodies, but just in general. 

“I know but you know how much I hate the others, especially Joshua. He always has to stick his nose into matters that don’t concern him.” He huffed, flicking a tiny spec of dirt off of his trousers. “And I was scared.” He confessed lowly, shocking Vernon who had now taken it upon himself to sit on the soil filled ground to watch the spectacle in front of him. Wonwoo never admitted his fears and though Vernon sometimes could feel them radiating off him. It was different hearing it come from his friend's mouth. 

“Of Joshua? Dude’s only got super strength and-”

“No of you. I was scared to see you suffer and to turn me away. I was scared that if I did show up putting aside indifference for your friends just to hear you say that you didn’t love me anymore.” Wonwoo let out a deep sigh at the ending of his words. He dropped his shoulders feeling the weight being lifted off them. He felt your body shake next to him and it confused him greatly, even more so when it was followed by your laugh. Though he loved it and missed it greatly. He couldn’t deny the anger he felt towards you as you laughed at his vulnerability. 

Slowly, he felt his heart close up again and brought himself up to his feet faster than he could blink. His feet moved faster than the doubt racing through his veins and your laughter came to a stop. 

He now remembered why he swore to never love again all those years ago. 

“Wonwoo, wait come back.” You hurried to your feet, smoothing down the creases on your leggings. Vernon copied your movements. He could sense the fear coming from your body, and it overwhelmed his senses. Behind his soft eyes he quietly told you to hurry before Wonwoo did something he wasn’t supposed to. Even though Wonwoo always did without planning ahead of time, there were a few instances where he didn’t care and acted carelessly. And he found himself fearing more for your heart rather than his friend's safety. 

You sighed tugging on the sleeves of your sweatshirt before turning around and ran after the only man you had ever loved. You passed many tombstones, silently paying your respects until you stopped in the middle of a small clearing, home to one familiar tombstone and Wonwoo. His hands in his pocket, eyebrows furrowed and his teeth chewing down on his teeth. 

“After she died, I promised her I wouldn’t love anyone again.” He whispered, “but then you came along and ruined it.” He turned his head, his eyes glossy with wanted tears. “Do you know how much I beat myself up every day for what I did to her. For what I did to you. I hate myself for it, I hate that I can inflict pain on everyone else but myself because I’m not one that should be suffering, not everyone else.” 

By now he had finally let his tears go. They raced down his cheeks rapidly and it shattered your heart. 

“It hurts me that you think that way about yourself. She didn’t die because of you, you tried to save her and-”

“I was too late.” Wonwoo snorted and rolled his eyes. He stared intently at the tombstone in front of him, reading his little sister’s name over and over again, letting it burn feverishly inside his mind. He missed her dearly and sometimes he wondered why you never told him anything about the conversations you would have with her whenever she visited you. But you had told him that it was a family secret between the two of you and he never questioned you again because you had used the word family and it made him feel all giddy inside.

“Let me talk Wonwoo.” You said closing the gap between you and Wonwoo. You grabbed his face in your hands and wiped away his tears with the pad of your thumb. He had always been there to comfort you on your lowest days. His sweet words and warmth grounded you back onto the Earth, but you had never gotten the opportunity to do the same to him. He always kept himself closed off and reserved. It had taken almost a year into your secret, not so secret relationship for him to tell you about his sister’s unfortunate death and a few more months after that for him to say that he loved you. Despite all those small passing moments of vulnerability he had never once cried in front of you. 

“I love you and you’re stupid for thinking that I would love you any less because of what happ-”

“I hurt you though,” Wonwoo cut you off, earning a ground shattering glare from you that sent shivers up his spine. “Sorry you can continue.” He whispered. 

“Thank you.” You smirked and wrapped your arms around his neck, making him freeze. You were the strangest person he had ever had the pleasure in knowing because normal people would never be as comfortable as you were in his presence. “I know the kind of person you are Wonwoo, through this cold exterior there is the most loving and sensible person I have ever known. I mean, baby, you spent a whole day sulking because you forgot to water your plant.” 

“You gave me that plant for my birthday, therefore he’s our child.” 

“This is exactly my point, you have the biggest of anyone I have ever known. Unfortunately, you have been dealt a bad hand in life and I really don’t understand your obsession with taking over the world. But you’re not a monster.” 

“I hurt people though, sometimes for fun.” He whispered against your skin. In the midst of your speech he had given in and circled his arms around your waist before burying his face into the crook of your neck. Leaving the two of you in an awkward and uncomfortable position. 

“And who are those people?”

“Bad people.”

“Exactly baby, they’re the scum of the Earth and you have helped stop them.” 

“Okay, but that doesn’t make me a hero. I’m just doing what you guys can’t do. On top of that Joshua’s super strength is useless, he only gets praised because he’s hot.” Wonwoo finished and raised his head, smirking. He sent you a playful wink, tears long forgotten, causing you to roll your eyes. 

“Mingyu takes forever to get ready, but that’s besides the point. You’re not a monster so stop treating yourself like one.” 

“Does that mean you forgive me?” He pouted batting his eyelashes at you. 

“Yes you big idiot.” 

“Then...why haven’t you kissed me yet?” He puckered his lips and made kissing noises, making you laugh. “Hey I’m waiting and you know I’m impatient.” He spoke through pouted lips as he leaned in closer, his lips hovered over yours teasingly until you finally caved and kissed him. He sighed happily against your mouth and deepened the kiss. He had spent five months without the feeling of your touch and it scared him that he would forget how it felt. Yet, now as he kissed you with everything in him he realized he hadn’t and it overjoyed him to the point in which he accidentally let out a moan; making you pull away quickly and eyeing him down. 

“Control yourself, your sister, her friends and Vernon are here.” You scolded making him pout. 

“I’m sorry, i just...I still remember the way you taste, and I got excited.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Before he could plant his lips on yours again he was met with your hand pushing him away. He whined as you tore his arms away from your waist, his body growing cold. “Nooo, one more kiss.” He reached out making grabby hands at you like a child. Instead of giving into what he wanted you turned and started walking away, “Wait, where are you going?” He stumbled against his own feet before following you. 

“Home.” You looked over at him and stuffed your hands into the front pocket of your hoodie. “You have a grave to cover up with Vernon.” 

“But I haven’t seen you in five months, just give me five more minutes please.” 

“Wonwoo you just didn’t look hard enough baby.” You said giving him a knowing smirk before leaning over, giving him a chaste kiss on his cheek. He felt his eyes grow in realization as everything started to click in his head. If what you had hinted was the truth and you had shown up to every single sight he had caused trouble in, then he had to give it to you. You were a lot more clever than you led on. “Don’t think about it too hard, I’ll leave my window open for you.” You smiled widely giving his cheek a pat and disappeared through the trees. 

“You live on the twenty fourth floor.” He yelled after you, his hands falling down at his side in defeat. He heard someone snort next to him and suddenly he remembered that Vernon was there silently observing everything, just like always did. 

“Figure it out baby, you always do.”

[beann-e]

omg , I just saw the followers tab & :0 woah over 100 people follow me ,Tysm i don’t even have that many people following me on instagram anyways , I thought I would write something about my favorite hot head reacting to his s/o getting over 100 followers

“ katsuki “ you screamed as you bounced up and down

the balls of your feet never hitting the ground until he finally grabbed your shoulders

“ what “ he huffed out staring dead in your eyes bending to your level “ you’ve been screaming my name for the past 15 minutes “

“ because you haven’t been answering me “

“ because your rambling on and on about nonsense I don’t understand “

you moved out of his grasp to hop more “ katsuki — you’ll never believe what happened “

he grunted to show he was listening as he moved around in your kitchen

“ I hit 10– woah what are you cooking babe smells good “

he let his eyes drift from the pan to yours

his face turning up in confusion before he spoke his voice laced with annoyance

“ y/n , what are you — get it the fuck out why are you dragging it —swear I won’t be mad but this is pissing me off more than whatever your gonna tell me“

“ fine “ you pulled on his shirt to get him to pay attention to you.

Him finally huffing and turning to give you full attention , back rested on the counter as his hands held him up. Apron in clear view for you to see his white shirt poking out

“ ok what’s up babe “ he sighed “ you’ve got my full attention if we don’t have dinner tonight it’s your fault — what do you want “

“ I just hit over 100 followers on my tumblr “

“ t-tumbler “ his eyebrows raised “ the fuck is that ? “

“ tumblr “ you exaggerated moving over to stand across from him “ and it doesn’t matter arent you proud of me “

“ uh “

“ i’m gonna be famous and we’re gonna travel the world and — “ he looked at you like you were crazy as you went on rambling.

Eyes finally coming down from their confused state as he found himself smiling at your excited motions.

He always enjoyed watching you talk about something that made you happy though he got a little jealous when it wasn’t him

“ I don’t like tumblr “

your face dropped “ w-what “

“ I don’t like tumblr don’t make me repeat myself again “

“ why “ you gasped out watching as he moved back over to the stove and the pan he was cooking in

“ b-because — don’t question me I don’t have to tell you anything you — you shitty person “

“ uh katsuki im so confused right now babe “

“ ok well tumblr can be too when you delete your account “

“ w-“

“ haha won’t they send you one of those deactivation emails —- “ he laughed as he thought about all the bad things that would happen once you deleted your account only smiling when he remembered that he would be the only thing left in your life to make you smile

“ ok so after you delete your account you’ll be so sad I just know it but baby i’ll be right here and we can go to the p— “

“ i’m not deleting my account katsuki “ you huffed out hands wrapped around your chest “ so screw you“

he stopped what he was doing

“ tumblr makes me happy and if you don’t like them you can take it up with no one since no ones gonna listen to you “

you stuck your tongue out at him as he jumped back at the action “ not even your shitty s/o “

You moved to walk away and out of the kitchen pulling your phone out to look at your follower count one more time.

Your mind slowing when you noticed what you’d just done

‘ w-wait I talked bad to him , then I told him what I wasn’t gonna do, then I made fun of his own words’

your voice came out soft and low as you finally made a realization “ oh shit and then I left him alone in the kitchen — you never leave a bakugou alon—- “

“ y/n the fuck are you talking about “ you heard his near guttural yell “ the hell do you think your doing leaving me alone in my kitchen after being an asshole“

you could feel him at the other end of the hallway your body freezing when you looked up from your phone to stare at him calculating how many steps it would take him to reach the end of the hallway and how many it would take to get back to your room

His eyes darting ahead to look at you and then dropping to your phone “ you’re on tumblr “

“ I-i’m on tumblr “

the two of you stood still for a moment before you seen him take off down the hallway ripping his apron off as you jetted down the opposite way taking the turn to your bedroom as he screamed smirking

“ oh fuck am I gonna kill you “

“ no no babe wait I — “

“ your fucking writer fingers better be moving just as quick to delete your page like they do to upload a new story “

“ not fucking funny katsuki “

“ I hear so much talking but not a ‘ are you sure you want to deactivate your account “

You screamed as you heard his blast go off and zoom him through the house as he grabbed you tackling you to the floor as you reached out for the bedroom door

“ damn it was 2 fingers away “ you whined “ baby please I win — I win i’m right here just give it to me “

“ no — nope you know the rules “ he smiled down on you his face less than a centimeter away from you

“ you don’t make it to the room after you’ve pissed me off and I win whatever argument we have “

“ you asshole i’m quirkless—you have an advantage“

he looked around the hallway with a small shrug “ huh sounds like a you problem shoulda designed the house to your benefit— “

he laughed as you frowned “ maybe you should talk to shitty deku about that heard there’s a way out of quirkless boredom for losers like him “

“ maybe I will go talk to him “

he quirked up his eyebrow “ you better be talking about quirks or i’m on your ass “

you gulped as he plucked the phone from your grasp “ thank you “

“ asshole “

“ we both have those yes “

“ fuck you katsuki “

“ you did earlier “

“ I hate you “

“ funny — is it your period cute how it always makes your mood change”

you felt yourself let out a giggle that turned into a loud laugh when you noticed you were never gonna win his game

You looked up at him eyes moving carefully over his features thumb rubbing at his cheek before you ran you hand over his nape and into his hair him shuddering at the new feeling

Before he plopped his head across your chest basking in the feeling

you staring at the ceiling feeling his low groans radiate through your body

He was overworked so you knew he was tired this was the most fun you’d guys had together in months apart from the dinner dates you only went on to copy your married friends

“ do I make you happier than tumblr “ you laughed at his question before smiling widely

“ yes you make me happier than tumblr babe “

he grunted as he nuzzled himself into your chest not wanting you to see the red blush decorating his face only to show off his red ears more

“ f-fuck tumblr then “

you sighed out as you took your phone back from his grasp him only making you drop it so he could hold your hand instead

“ does this mean I can keep I— “

“ if you ask me i’ll delete it myself “ he said through his muffled voice “ just shut the fuck up and enjoy my momental celebration of your 100 fans“

[gallickingun]

hiii im in love with your writing!! and i surprisingly fell hard for that little oneshot of kirishima arriving home and just snuggling SO i thought it was the most adorable thing. i was wondering if you could write another wholesome sweet moment, perhaps during an afterglow or during pregnancy or just another snuggle i dunno jaj sorry if it's not from a prompt list i couldnt find one PLEASE AND THANK YOU YOURE AWESOME BYE

a/n: omg thank you SO MUCH YOU ARE SO SWEET!!!!! i love love love kiri, and i love making him soft. he deserves a sweet lil SO who will love him and hold him tight! here we go!! 💕

ps, you got a pregnancy afterglow!!! hope that made you doubly happy! spicy, so below the cut!!

pps, we have.... daddy kiri here. in BOTH senses of the word. hope that’s cool with you!

“That okay?” Kiri asks, hands gentle around your waist as he shifts you on the mattress. His fingertips brush the slight swell of your belly, thumb finding your navel as his eyes wash over your full figure.

You nod, biting your lip as you gaze up at him. Really you want to beg him to go faster, your hands in his hair and his name on your lips, but you can’t help to keep yourself quiet when you see the way he’s looking down on you in pure adoration.

Kirishima’s mouth brushes over the highest part of your stomach, dragging his tongue and teeth up your sternum until he connects to the upward curve of your chest. He smirks up at you, “These are nice.”

“Kiri!”

“What?!”

You giggle, shaking your head as your hands drift into his hair, threading through the bright crimson strands. You tug a little to guide his mouth down to your chest and he takes the hint pretty quickly. He licks over your skin, bringing goosebumps to the surface as the air conditioning hits you from above.

“Gonna start movin’, ‘kay?” Kirishima mutters, teeth catching your nipple. You whine and whimper, trying to force your head to nod up and down. He must understand because he starts rolling his hips forward again, using your gathered slick to slide into you easily.

It’s not hard for him to work you over the edge, not at this point. He’s had you going for a little while now, sweat sticking to your temples and lower back from the effort. The tinge of red on his cheeks reminds you of the amount of effort he puts into loving you.

Kirishima pulls away from your chest with a pop, lips bright red as he meets your mouth in a kiss. One of his hands rests in your hair, the other drifting around your torso, indecisive in his desire to touch your belly or support your back. His tongue presses into the seam of your lips and you part for him willingly, keening into him.

“Shit, sweetheart, you feel good,” Kiri murmurs into your mouth, the stroke of his cock within you turning your head away in pleasure. You whine, jaw dropping to let your panting gasps fall free from your tongue.

Kiri takes advantage of your wanton state, mouth ravaging your throat. The sharp ends of his teeth make quick work of your thin skin, nipping until you’re crying out and then soothing with his tongue and lips afterward. It’s like he lights you on fire only to then calm the flame.

You palm over his back and shoulders, the rippling muscle underneath your fingertips doing little to quell the wetness gathering between your thighs, distributed as he ruts into you. Kirishima has sucked at least three hickeys into the curve of your neck but you have little mind to care. You’re overwhelmed by him; the scent that fills the room, the heat that radiates from his body, the calloused pads of his fingers.

“C’mon, baby girl, tighten up for me.” Kiri’s hand in your hair tightens, yanking at the base of your head. He smirks, that confident persona he puts on once the clothes come off becoming much more evident the longer his cock is in you.

You nod in acknowledgement before focusing as much as you can on clenching yourself around him. Kiri nods, chewing on his lower lip as he loiters above you, thumb traveling down the expanse of your thigh to eventually find your clit.

"Such a good girl," Kirishima kisses the top of your knee, using his thigh to prop you up, "You always come so good for me, yeah? So pretty."

You're a blubbering mess, words unable to form on your lips, catching on your teeth like a net. You push them out anyway because you think Kiri loves to get you flustered; the smirk on his face and the tensing of his shoulders only does more to confirm your suspicions, so you continue.

He twists so he can get your leg over his shoulder, penetrating you at a whole new angle. You cry out at the first thrust but your cheek is pressed into the pillow so it's muffled.

Kirishima chuckles, "You like moanin' for me, baby?"

"Y-Yes, Kir-"

He tuts his tongue against his teeth, mouth scraping over your knee cap, "What was that?"

It's a warning, a promise that there will be repercussions if you don't follow his lead.

You turn, blinking wide eyes up at him in an attempt to have him forgive you, "Yes daddy."

"Good girl."

Your hand wanders around in midair, something you can't see, in search of him to help him ground you, to anchor you to this world before your spirit flies too far away. He slips his knuckles between yours, effectively grounding you. His mouth pressed to each of your fingers, soothing the nonexistent pain of your bones.

"Tell me what you want, pretty girl," Kirishima mutters. You can barely hear him over the mixture of panting and blood pumping in your ears. You let out a wanton cry, eyes screwing shut as he drills into you mercilessly, hips slamming into you, surely leaving bruises.

You gulp, your throat sticky from whining into the open air, "Please, I-I want your come. I want you to come in me!"

He chuckles and the deep baritone sound rolls like a wave, the vibrato of his chest making you shiver. You only wish he were talking in your ear instead of so far away.

"I already gave you a baby, sweetheart, what else do you need my come for?" Kirishima snaps his hips particularly fast and you feel your cervix cry out from within you, a jolt forcing its way up your spine.

You whine once you realize what he's said, tears beginning to pin prick the corners of your eyes, "B-But, I-I wan'it."

"Yeah?"

He's mocking you, you know it. His tone is too patronizing, the glimmer in his eyes sarcastic. You pout, squeezing his hand, "Please, daddy. Please. Want you to co-come in me."

Kirishima has his thumb circling your clit, hardening the tip of his finger just enough to give you added friction. You grind your hips upward, chasing the high that will have you crying out his name and stuttering for moments after.

His free hand wraps around your neck from behind, pulling you forward so he can kiss you on the mouth, "Such a good girl," the words are mumbled into your lips, muffled and distorted by the skin, "takin' me like the perfect little slut you are, huh?"

You whine into his mouth, palming at his back as you buck along with him, but he's got you producing waves of slick already. Your eyes roll back in your head as he continues fucking you through the crescendo, his own release building and begging in the form of his cock twitching within your dense muscular center.

"Please daddy, please," you know your irises are swallowed by your pupils, eyes blown wide with serotonin. You whimper, sifting your fingers through his hair before digging your nails into the tops of his shoulders, "Wanna make you come, wanna make you feel good, please."

Kiri pushes both of your knees back so he can butterfly you open, your thighs pressing into your chest as he ruts into you sloppily. You can tell by his rhythm that he's nearing the edge of his resolve, his mouth twisted and his nose scrunched at the center.

Your begging for him pushes him over, beckoning a wave of pleasure for him to ride just as steady as he's riding you. Kirishima's hips stutter and his cock twitches from base to tip and you can't help the moan that parts your lips.

After he's come down from the aftershocks, Kiri nuzzles his face into your neck, tugging your legs just enough to help you lay flat on the mattress. He kisses your cheek, "Such a trooper, sweetheart."

"Worth it," you giggle as he blows raspberries against your throat.

His mouth trails, pert blushed lips tickling your body, from your collarbones to your belly. He laughs once he gets to your navel, his voice soft as he speaks, "Not givin' mama a hard time, are ya'?"

Your heart warms at the sight of Kirishima mumbling to your unborn child, his fingertips tracing patterns and names over the stretched skin. He never fails to make you feel beautiful and important, especially not now. Kiri is always telling you how amazing you look, even if it's in a pair of sweatpants and one of his tee shirts.

"You’re so perfect, you know that?” Kiri kisses the top of your belly before pushing himself closer to your face. He’s smiling as he kisses you gently, much in contrast to the past couple of hours you’ve spent between the sheets. He doesn’t mind, though, not right now when your hormones are raging and you want every bit of him that he has to offer.

Kirishima kisses your cheek before pulling away, tugging you close so you can curl up into him, “I don’t know who I had to bribe in another life to get lucky with someone like you, but thank goodness I did it.”

You lay your palms flat against his chest, the muscles of his pectorals flexing under your touch. A smile tugs on the corners of your lips, but overall your body is tired and slow to move. He notices, dipping his head down so he can kiss your forehead and temple.

“You’re gonna be such a good momma,” Kirishima murmurs against your cheek, voice a low rumble in his chest. “I can’t wait to put another baby in you, keep you full all the time, yeah?”

If you were being honest, you’d have as many children as Kiri wants you to have, so long as he’s willing and ready to help you take care of them. And you know he will; Kirishima has been fawning over being a dad since the day you got married a couple of months ago. You’d been together for too long for him not to know with his whole heart that you were to be the mother of his children.

Even so, you scrunch your nose and swat him away, “I’d need a break sometime, you goof.”

“There’s my girl,” he’s peppering kisses over your cheeks now, giggles passed between the two of you at the action, “I can’t wait to meet them. I hope they’re just like you.”

“Kiri,” you whine.

Another bout of laughter escapes his lips, the vibrations in his chest making you feel whole somehow. You never believed any of those sappy romance stories before Kiri; everyone else had played with your heart - toying with it like it was some sort of thing detached from you as a person. He had been the first to throw himself at you and be truly vulnerable, the kindest person you’d ever met.

“What?!” He has you caged into his body now, knees on either side of your waist and elbows by your shoulders. In every sense of the word, you should feel panicked, frightened by the proximity and your inability to escape it. However, the only things flooding through your system are comfort and safety.

Your hands float to meet his cheeks, thumbs brushing over the tops of his cheekbones, “I hope they have your heart. You have such a rare one.”

A blush paints over his cheeks, starting at the neck and making its way skyward. You smile at him, the hormones making a raging comeback as tears fill your vision, “I am such a lucky woman, a lucky wife. You’re going to be a wonderful father.”

Kirishima tucks his face into your neck, careful not to let his hips hover too close to your belly. You feel the wetness of tears on your neck so you drift one hand into his hair, soothing his scalp with your nails. His mouth presses openly to the column of your throat, nudging his nose over your jugular. You smile at the warmth that spreads throughout your body as he curls closer around your, tightening his grip.

“You’re amazing, Kiri,” you murmur into the darkness of the bedroom, “I love you.”

He kisses the juncture of your jaw and neck, “I love you too, sweetheart.”

The next few moments are spent in silence, hands finding different patches of warm skin and mouths touching over bones and muscle. His fingertips roam over your belly, hushed words whispered as he brushes his nose over your rib cage. You are sure to echo the same amount of kindness in return, your nails mapping out the dips of his muscles and your mouth littering kisses over the top of his head, planting seeds of kindness like flowers in a garden.

“Wanna take a shower?” Kiri asks after a particular lull in conversation.

You scrape your fingertips over his back, a shudder running down his shoulders at the motion. A hum from you tells him that you’re in agreement, so he shifts away from you, standing to his full height beside the bed. Kiri holds you by the hand, but you tuck your legs into yourself as a shiver racks your body.

“S’cold, Kiri,” you whine, pouting in hopes that he’ll pick you up like he always does.

The redhead chuckles before tucking his arms underneath your shoulders and knees, plucking you from the bed and cradling your body into his chest. You rest your head on his collarbone, nuzzling your nose into his pectoral, “You’re so warm, honey.”

Kirishima kisses the top of your head, turning his body as he walks through the bathroom doors. He sets you down on the counter, your legs swinging slightly while he starts up the shower. The mirror fogs at the top from the heat and you feel a little dizzy from the sudden amount of steam.

You blink when he comes to stand between your legs, hands brushing over your ribs and down over the growing swell of your belly. He’s smiling, a genuine grin that you can’t help but mimic. Kiri leans forward to kiss you on the mouth, hands palming at you to keep you close. He is slow but deliberate, melding his lips to the shape of yours, gently tugging you toward him.

He hums, disconnecting just enough to press warm kisses from the corner of your mouth to your ear. A sigh from his lips makes you shiver, your hands instinctively threading into his hair. Kirishima kisses the juncture of your jaw before pulling away, “Ready?”

You nod and he helps you down from the counter, holding your hand as you step into the shower. Kirishima is quick to pick up your shampoo from the corner shelf, lathering it in his hands while you dampen your hair. His hands are gentle, smooth, much in contrast to his quirk’s abilities. He slides his fingertips through your hair, building up the bubbles as he works the soap into every inch of your hair.

A gasp parts your lips when you feel him press up against you, his torso completely parallel with yours. Kirishima kisses your shoulder, hands slipping down over your body, settling at your hips. He chuckles, “Relax, angel, you’re so tense.”

Kiri’s hands continue to map out the planes of your body, soap trails in his wake. The water from the shower washes over your body, erasing the evidence of his touch. Kirishima helps you to wash the soap out of your hair, turning your body so you’re facing him now. He dips his head under the water to kiss you on the lips, hands still massaging in your hair to relieve it from shampoo and suds.

“You’re so pretty,” Kiri murmurs against your lips. He tugs you forward, rolling his hips up into you, “God, you’re so beautiful, I’m so glad that you’re mine.”

Your hands find his shoulders and you pull away so you can look up at him, stars in your eyes. Just as always, the truth in his gaze - the reality that he really does love you with his whole heart - turns your insides into hot lava, warmth licking at your ribs the longer you stand in front of him. You smile, leaning into him so your bodies are entangled.

You’re not sure when it happened, when you truly became one. But now, you’re satisfied with the idea that you can’t truly tell where you end and he begins.

And you wouldn’t change a thing.

TAGLIST: @kamehamethot @simplybakugou @lady-bakuhoe @todorki-shoto @redhawtriot @burnedbyshoto @cookies-n-chaos @katsukisprincess @rat-suki @cutesuki--bakugou @k-atsukidayo @bnhatrashh @succulent-momma @voiceofreader @multifandom-fanfic @that-one-enthusiast @bitchtrynafck @cutest-celestial-princess @blue-peach14 @pastel-prynce @bokunokangae @shoutodoki @bakuoushoe @tenyaingenium @lxvely-mha @myherorambles @ramen-rambles @bratwritings @samanthaa-leanne @orokayagi @tumblingintothefeelstrain @sunbeamwrites @bnhawritten @bnhasidebin @lovekatsukibakugo @aizawamirite @plusultrawritings @bnha-violetnote @yuueimagines @suckersuki @heroes-landing @bnha-mha-imagines @heroesreverie @pink-imagines @brattyquirks @kazooli 

[oh-theatre]

Objection!: Chapter 12

Chapter title:  Douleur Exquise

A/n:  Oh no! Another chapter im not proud of! Even though I rewrote it FIVE MILLION TIMES! Whatever I don't care anymore,,, WAIT THAT'S A LIE I DO CARE. Anyway, I love the idea of Royality just knowing they like who they like, it's cute. Um poor Virge, my bby I love him. Leave me some comments if you so, please! 

First | Previous | Next

words: 4790

summary: Roman doesn't listen to doctors' orders, which doesn't go well for him. There are new developments in the case. 

pairings: Eventual logicality, eventual prinxiety, platonic demus, romantic remile

warnings: Murder mention, child murder, Law and Courtroom, swearing, blood, hospital, passing out/fainting, Crime Scene, dead bodies, crying

Ao3 Link  

“So he's actually doing it?” Virgil questions, Logan nods opening the door for the detective. “Thanks” he responds walking into the courthouse. Virgils not sure how to feel, this is all hes wanted for years, this one wish never-changing. “I want to help” Logan stops him, cocking his head.

“It's really not a good idea” Logan reprimands, Virgil huffs hanging his coat on the rack. The pair make their way to the front desk. “He's extremely...fragile” Logan chooses his words carefully ��Asking for help was already a lot...he will come to you when he is ready” Logan decides, Virgil hides a smirk. It's been a hot second since the pair had hung out and it was always enjoyable.

“Fine, but I want to help at some point” Virgil warns, Logan gives him a coy smile. “What? I practically built that case, don't think it's fair you get all the credit” he mumbles. Logan thanks Jenny before walking away.

“Yes because that's the goal here, credit” Logan begins, stuffing his pass away. Virgil hangs his around his neck, not understanding Logan's point. “Not putting away a man whose been awfully cruel to our friend” Logan keeps his eyes forward and his words simple.

“Ok, I got it Velma” Virgil sighs resigned “Obviously I want to put Liam away...I’m just- Oh you have got to be kidding me” Virgil mutters, his focus in an entirely new place. Logan follows his angry glare, his tensed shoulders releasing as his eyes fall on Roman. “I'm going to kill him” Virgil starts making his way to the judge.

“If he doesn't die first, you mean” Logan whispers to himself, a regular amount of concern for the injured judge taking over as he follows Virgil.

“Ah! Good morning Virgil, Logan” Roman greets, he bids farewell to some colleagues before turning fully to his friends. Good morning? He has the audacity to stand here against doctors' orders, and say good morning? Virgil might be fuming now.

“Your doctor told you to stay home today!” Virgil exclaims, both Logan and Roman turn to shush him. Logan looks around at the other patrons, apologizing. “Don't shush me! You are in no condition to be working today” he angry whispers, heeding their volume warning. Roman might be flattered, had it not been the same thing, for once Virgil needed to just give him...the benefit of the doubt.

“Virgil, really, I am fine” Roman assures, keeping his serenity intact. His doctor had warned against getting too emotional, he listens sometimes. “Plus, I won't be doing anything heavy-duty anyway” Virgil folds his arms doubtful. The judge hated anything less than heart thrilling. “Just some paperwork I need to catch up on” He lies, well not entirely. He wouldn't be going into court today, and he would be doing paperwork, but he wasn't excited about it.  

“You're impossible” Virgil indicates, he gives the judge one more glance before deciding to join a newly arrived Patton checking in. No doubt, to rant about that very same judge.

“You're impossible” Roman mocks childishly, Logan keeps his dead eyes. Roman begins walking away, Logan decides to follow.

“Roman, I had an inquiry” Logan tells him, Roman turns through the hallways, Logan on his toes. They enter his chambers, Roman gesturing for the lawyer to take a seat across from him, he does so. The judge begins organizing his files, sorting them and looking over new notices or reminders. “Will court be in session today?” He asks catching Roman's attention.

“Patton has requested we wait” He informs, signing, presumably some contracts of sorts. Logan's shoulders fall, adjusting his glasses he leans forward.

“D-do you know why?” He pushes further, the judge refuses to meet his eyes, still catching up on work and things he missed. Roman gives a chuckle at Logan's attempt at subtle concern. “Roman?”

“I do not” He replies simply, checking his buzzing phone. “Oh my god…” He groans “I'm going to kill Virgil” He mutters, now it's Logan's turn to laugh. “Got something to say...calculator?” He tries, instantly grumbling in his attempt.

“No no...Nothing, hmm what's the definition of infatuation again?” Logan teases, Roman scrunches his eyebrows. “Infatuation or being smitten is the state of being carried away by an unreasonable passion, usually towards another person for whom one has developed strong romantic or platonic feelings” He recites, one of his many talents.

“What are you saying?” Romans own curiosity peaked, wanting to hear Logan's assessment. Logan leans forward once more, placing his elbows neatly on the table.

“I hypothesize that you are indeed, infatuated with Virgil” He plays, Roman raises a brow an unexpected smirk overtakes his face. Logans taken aback, expecting a different more...emotionally defensive reaction.

“Have been for the past four years but thanks for noticing” Roman responds casually, fully aware of the look of almost shock that riddles Logan's face. “It's not a big thing, I mean he's oblivious to it but it's whatever and I don't really notice anymore.” Roman admits, Logans not sure whether it's his own feelings with the ‘liking’ someone or if he's curious about Romans approach but he has questions.  

“Don't you want something to happen?” Logan asks, nothing is...its not...it doesn't make sense. Roman, who had returned to his work, lets out a laugh.

“Of course I do Logan” He staples some papers together “More than anything, but after a while…” He trails off, clearly lost.

“What?” Logan should realize how desperate he sounds, and how hopeless Roman does. But Roman isn't hopeless, he's fallen into a routine, and he's used to the feeling. The tug every time Virgil entered the room, the excitement when he spoke to the detective, the way his eyes slowly darted towards Virgil's lips. It was the little moments, the small things, he treasured just as much, almost more. Sometimes the wait and longing are so much better. Roman wouldn't know however...nothing to compare it to

“Nothing…” Roman shakes his head, he meets Logan's eyes, folding his arms out in front of him. “I'm a hopeless romantic Logan, you should know that by now” He smiles, but it's different, a look he had recognized on Patton so many times. Fake, secretive, sad. Not to Roman… To Roman its...perseverance.

~~~

“If you say ‘kill’ one more time, I might have to report you to the police” Patton sighs, ushering Virgil into his office “Which is ironic, because you are the police” He jokes, Virgil, slumps into the chair across from the lawyer groaning into his jacket. The tight leather, wrapping around his pulsing body, grounding him.

“Well excuse me for being concerned!” Virgil huffs throwing his hands up, leaning back in his chair. Patton nods, a coy smile on his face, as he seats himself in his chair. “He's going to...pass out or...open his wounds or…” Patton turns alert, recognizing something instantly. He reaches over taking Virgil's hand in his own.

“He will be ok” Patton assures, giving his best smile. It's a smile he uses on the twins when they are scared or worried. “Plus, he's got all of us looking after him” He grins wider, Virgil takes a deep breath, realizing there is room for breathing. He's not taking up space, he is ok. “You okay?” Patton checks once more, Virgil swallows, nodding slowly.

“Let's just talk about...anything else” he requests, Patton nods removing his hand from Virgils, opening his laptop. “So...you and Logan and working on a case...I heard” His worry turning quickly to smugness.

“Yes, we are” Patton confirms simply, in fact opening up his files on his laptop. Virgil resumes a more comfortable position in his chair.

“How's that going?” He inquires, genuinely curious. If he wasn't allowed to help, he’d at least like to be in the know.

“It's going good actually…” Patton's face rising quickly into a blush “Logans...more than helpful” He sighs, he's not really looking anywhere in particular. Virgil coughs, he has to pry before...assuming.

“Oh yeah?” He remarks coyly “Tell me more Pat” he's in detective mode now, using what he can to come to a conclusion. It's quite obvious what he's trying to do, but the glazed eyes on his friend suggest he has a fighting chance.

“He’s just being very kind, and…” Patton sighs, twisting his lips “Its nice, to work with him.” Patton fiddles with his hands, falling into a trance. “And...when he gets really focused, his little eyebrows scrunch and he..” Patton giggles, Virgil almost feels bad had it not made both present so happy. “Oh, last night we were working late and..he must have fallen asleep but his glasses dropped just a little and-” Patton pauses noticing the stifled laughter coming from Virgil. “What?”

“You totally like him” Virgil exclaims, pure joy radiating with a hint of smugness. It was nice to fall into this...childish conversation. Taking a load off his shoulders, just letting things not...mean so much.

“This is not new information Virge,” Patton says, typing more into his laptop. Virgil stops now, his eyes growing wide.

“Sorry, what?” Virgil coughs, Patton looks up at him

“I think you're getting a call” And sure enough he was, Virgil, shot his friend a glare before answering, his face falling as the conversation went on. He slams his phone shut, pursing his lips. His foot bounces erratically. “Virge? Everything ok?”

“Three more murders” He shakes his head simply, awaiting Patton's usual reaction of sadness and disgust. Instead, Patton stands

“Well, but that doesn't make sense” He claims, Virgil stops, looking up at him. He makes his way to the side door of his office, where he usually meets with clients. “Because George is right here” He opens the door, revealing a very patient sitting George. Virgil's confusion quickly turns, he's not sure what but his mind sure is racing.

“Pat I gotta-”

“See you later Virge” Patton nods understandingly, alight with a fighting smile.  He waves his friend goodbye before exiting the office, he swears he was headed to the doors but something pushed him down a different hall, begging him to walk down the solemn lined path, to a place he wasn't technically supposed to be.

He wasn't expecting to see an ever-growing crowd outside the office but pushed his way through the clamoring group. The room almost instantly shrunk, if he wasn't so adamant to find Roman, he would be heavy-breathing his way out of the room. It's a good thing he was strong and persistent, shoving people aside. It was one of his many skills during school, needing to get through the halls and avoid any eye contact at all. If it was an Olympic sport, Virgil would win gold.

“Yes, yes mister Katchutori, I will get back to you on tha-” Virgil locates the familiar voice. Roman stands behind his desk, speaking into a phone with at least three other people talking to him.  “H-hold on one moment please” He turns, taking some files that someone had been practically throwing at him.

“Mister Reial, we need you to look these over and sign them” The man spoke, Roman nods taking them, skimming through quickly.

“Right ok, thanks” He mutters, the man doesn't budge. Virgil doesn't mean to snarl but Roman might as well be juggling as he tries to carry multiple things and keep steady on the phone. “Yes thank you mister Katchutori” He speaks into the phone, rushing through some more ‘okays’ and ‘yes’ before finally hanging up, moving onto signing. Were there always so many files?  

“Mister Reial!” Another voice calls out, Roman continues signing but ushers the voice towards him. Virgil's not sure how it happened but soon there wasn't a moment's breath, everything became rapid fire. How could Roman keep up?

“Can you sign this?”

“Yes, leave it o-”

“You’re being requested on November third for judging, will you be available?”

“Check in with my se-

“I'm still waiting on the forms, your honor!”

“Yes, I will get them to you an-”

“We would like an official statement regarding last month's case!”

“You have to be more specific”

“Uh… breaking and entering with mister Tolentino?”

“Of course! Ill g-”

“The forms mister Reial”

“My client sir!”

“Statement!”

“Forms!”

“Your phones ringing”

Virgil saw it just a moment too late, and he almost missed it. Romans head frantically darting around the room trying to keep up, until it slowed. The incessant yelling was too much for Virgil. He had half a mind to tell them all to shut up and get out. Roman's eyes slowed, fluttering to a close as his grip on the desk loosened. Virgil might have been scared at the sight of his body going limp as he fell, had the adrenaline in his body not kicked in as he dove just in time to spare the judge any further injuries.

“Roman!” He exclaims, not sure what it will do but it felt right. Splitting the crowd as he caught Roman, laying him down carefully on the ground, holding him.

“Oh...my god” The silence broke as a small voice chirps. Virgil's fearful gaze turned quickly to anger as he looked to the crowd.

“Someone call nine one one!” He demands, he hears fast shuffling “Everyone else gets out!” He commands. They don't need to be told a second time, the crowd disappearing in the blink of an eye. Soon it was just him, clinging to Roman's body, praying for someone to hurry up.

“I told you…” He whispers, his breath stutters “God, Roman, I told you”

~~~

~~~

“Do you want to play snakes with me?”

“No”

“Fair enough” Damian nods, the child scurries away joining his friends. “Have a nice day!” He calls out bouncing. He turns back to his table, seating himself in front of the coloring supplies and building blocks. At least he tried, he can tell Papi.

“I'll play snakes with you” Remus offers, he plops himself across from Damian, his wide eyes staring expectantly at the boy. “How do you play?” He asks, taking a purple block, smashing it on the table. Damian's not sure if he thinks it will reveal something or is this just how kids are. It's better than playing alone, plus he comes from Uncle Pat, how bad can he be?

“You gotta make a snake” He explains, Remus stops, he listens. “Then you gotta slither the snake, and the faster snake wins” He finishes, already crafting his masterpiece. He uses a mix of yellow and orange blocks, connecting them to create a funky pattern. Remus shrugs, simple enough, he gathers mostly green blocks with a few purples mixed in. His little tongue sticking out as he works rapidly.

“Ta-da!” Remus exclaims, pushing his snake towards Damian. Damian pauses his own work, his face scrunching as if eating something too sour. “Snek!” He smiles, prideful.

“It looks like throw up” Damian insults, Remus shrugs, hugging his snake.

“I like it” He defends, as he waits for Damian to finish his snake, he plays with his own. The creature takes a journey around the table, searching the ground for mystery, eventually landing exhausted on Remus’s head. “Imma make an octopus!” he declares, the snake wobbles but evidently the blocks standstill.

“Only snakes!” Damian whines, he takes a quick breath “Only snakes” He mutters to himself, adding the finishing pieces to his own toy. Remus huffs, folding his arms together.

“That's no fun” He moans, sitting down once more, the soft cushion beneath him. “The snakes need friends” He pouts, Damian pays him no mind. They can hear the others shouting and squealing wildly in the background, Valerie, no doubt leading an attack on some mythical kingdom. “Why can't he have more friends?” Remus asks, fiddling with a block in front of him.

“He doesn't need anymore” Damian states, Remus, shakes his head. He makes his way around the table, sitting next to Damian now. “Friends are boring” Damian wiggles his nose, he has friends. Patton, Logan and Roman...and of course Papi.

“Yes we are your friends, but friends your own age Dee,” Virgil tells his son, allowing the small boy to cuddle into him as they rest calmly on the couch.

“But I don't like them, all they do is scream” Damian yawns, watching the flashing light of scooby doo on the screen, he loves the show. Virgil laughs softly, wrapping the blanket further around him.

“I think they're pretty nice” Remus smiles, he was always fidgety but it seemed increased. “I don't have many, but Val is pretty nice” He repeats, huh...Damian thinks, they might not be so different.  Remus gasps, throwing his hands in the air as he knocks down a few blocks. Damian tries not to reprimand him, that's a new word he learned. “We can be friends!”

“Ok…” Damian begins, he's not opposed to the proposition but he doesn't know what it will include. “What do I do?” He asks, Remus grins a little too wide. A gap in his teeth revealed, clearly, it's new.

“You just gotta play with me!” He explains, excited he rushes around the table, making his way to the cubbies. Damian follows, his curiosity peaked. “My dada got me these” he shows, opening his bag labeled in bright messy marker ‘Remus Hart’, pulling out three containers. “Its goo!” He hands one to Damian, who inspects the toy, just as his Papi does with his own job.

“Its slime” He detects, holding the container a little further away. Remus shrugs and leads the boy back over to the table.

“What are you doing?” Damian looks up, Valerie stands keeping her exhausted panting steady, she looks over at her brother. “Is that goo?” She questions, Damian sighs, Remus nods.

“Its slime!” The boys recite in unison. Damian hides a coy smile, he can't be that bad, “Wanna play Val?” Remus asks, holding out the final container. She nods excitedly, taking her place next to Remus. He wastes no time throwing it open and letting the green ooze out. Instantly clicking and smashing away, allowing it to stick to all parts of his hands.

“Mm messy” Damian mumbles, his face in clear disgust of the manner. He opens his own cautiously, the gold color is quite appealing. It's cold as he pulls it out, letting it melt on his hands. He pokes it, the clicks and pops of each poke sending a thrill. Soon it becomes second nature, he expands his game, making bubbles and twirling the slime.

The rest of the morning goes by quickly after that, Valerie is soon recruited to join the rebellion of some game, Damian can't keep up. Cindy helps the boys clean up and wash their hands preparing for lunch. For the first time, Damian has somewhere and someone to sit with. He eats in the corner with Remus, eating his perfectly prepared meal while Remus ate his own.

“I made it! Dada said I should try if I wanted to and I did!” Remus exclaims, he shows the contents of his sack lunch to Damian. He wants to say something but is quickly distracted by an overcast hanging over the boys.

“Hey kiddos” Emile's smiling face looks down on them, Damian and Remus share a smile, bouncing up to embrace the sweet man's legs. “Oh! Hello!” He laughs softly, they pull away as Valerie rejoins them, greeting the doctor.

“What are you doing here mister pickle?” Damian asks, Emile kneels down to face them.

“I'm here to pick you up, there's been an...incident and your dads want to..see you” He explains, his speech slow and careful, making sure the kids understand every word. After a few expected questions, the kids agree and pack up their things, promptly meeting Emile by the door. “Ready?”

“Ready” They confirm

~~~

“Roman…” Virgil whispers very softly, maybe if he keeps rubbing his warmth, transferring it from his own hands into Roman the judge will wake up. So he does, sitting by a hospital bed, cupping Romans...lifeless hand. “Come on Roman this isn't...this isn't funny” He pleads, the doctors had no news. They were no help, absolutely none of them. “H-hey! What are you doing” Virgil exclaims, the nurse holding a new IV doesn't jump, probably used to weary members in the hospital.

“Don't worry sir, I am simply changing out mister Reials IV bag, your husband will be ok” She assures kindly if Virgil wasn't so worried, he might have been a little more...stuttered at the assumption.

“He's not my husband,” He says solemnly, eyeing Romans shut eyes, Virgil was holding his hands still ignoring the growing sweat between the two.

“I apologize,” She says finishing her job, she smiles at him before giving the pair privacy. Privacy he hopes he can continue to sustain, he just wants this moment to...to...to figure things out. To take a breath, to allow himself this.

“Ro come on…” He knows it won't help but he hopes somewhere in that...jumbled mind of Roman, Virgil's voice will be heard. “Look, Damian's coming to see you...you don't wanna be asleep right?” he laughs dryly, Damian would be very upset and to be honest Virgil doesn't think he can...deal with Damian crying right now. He knows its selfish, but Romans limp cold state overrules that. “Okay, this is beyond petty” He complains, not sure how to deal with what's happening. “Just wake up ...wake up! Roman wake up!” He's not entirely sure why he began screaming, but it felt good.

“Virge! Hey hey Woah” He turns angrily facing Patton, he drops Romans hand rubbing his head annoyed. “Virge come here” Patton directs, he wastes no time bundling himself up in Patton's arms, crying softly.

“I told him” Virgil mumbles, Patton tightens his grip, “I told him P…”

“I know Virge, I know” Patton rubs comforting circles on Virgil's back before leading him over the chair, wrapping him up in an extra blanket. “Walk me through it...what happened?” He inquires delicately. Virgil sniffles, grateful for the break from staring desperately into what was left of the eccentric figure. So he goes through it carefully, remembering and repeating every step, every move, every word they had said that led up to this moment. After a while, the conversation died down and he got tired, so Patton offered to watch while the sleepy detective got some rest.

“Is he alright?” Patton spins, stopping himself as he paces. Logan enters the room, spotting a bundled Virgil and a less than active Roman. Patton's not sure if he can trust himself to speak, so he nods, slowly. “Are you alright” Another nod, Logan takes his shoulders, an abrupt action but necessary. Patton stops pacing once more, looking up at Logan with folded arms. “Pa-

“He needs to go into surgery, immediately” A team of doctors and nurses enter the room, creating a separation between the pair. Virgil scrambles awake, pushing himself to the front lines. “Sir, we need to get him into surgery,” The nurse says while Virgil blocks her way. It isn't conscious but an impulse. Patton and Logan watch as the medical team, remove Roman from his safety and begin rolling him away, Virgil moves reluctantly, securing a place near Patton. “We will let you know how it goes after we notify his family” The nurse informs before promptly leaving. Virgil takes a few steps back, transferring himself to the edge of the now-empty bed.

“We are his family” He mutters, watching the spot where everything could change.

~~~

“What do we got?” Remy asks, following Carlton into the room. An officer makes their way up to Remy, ready to read his notes.

“Three more murders detective” The officer, Reia, informs. Remy scrunches his brows checking out the room. “Its weird, he's never done it like this. They’re never...together” Reia’s right, its curious. Every time the victims never had any connection and were never associated.

“I think we can do the detecting Reia” Carlton chides, Remy turns to him raising a brow. Reia bows her head, walking back to collect more notes. “Seems Virgil won't be joining us today” he notes.

“Dude, you didn't have to be rude” Remy reminds, Carton scoffs putting on his gloves, hitting with a snap around his wrist. “She's right, ya know?” Remy does the same, walking towards the first victim. “Wheres CSI?” He calls out, a small voice chirps.

“That would be me! Talyn Corste, they/them if you will” They hold out their hand, shaking Remys. He retracts subtly massaging his hand, they've got a strong grip. “The first victim seems to be mid-twenties, presumed female” They move to the body, Remy might've been phased has he not been so used to it. They kneel down, allowing Talyn to lift up the sheet covering the woman. Remy's face drops instantly, the woman is untouched. “You alright detective? Never seen a dead body?”

“You call that dead?” Remy searches for any sign, but she's perfect. Her skin clear, not a hair out of place, her clothes intact. “This couldn't be him, not his M.O” Remy decides, Talyn waits for him to continue. “Were there any letters?” Remu inquires, closing the sheet over the woman.

“Three of them, all written in the victim's blood” Talyn recalls, they try to read Remy's face “Why?” Remy bites his bottom lip, shaking his head.

“Nevermind, what were the letters?” Remy requests, opening his notepad. Talyn gestures for him to follow them, leading Remy to the wall. Three letters, dripping in perfection, written across the white plaster. “W, S and...A” He scribbles down quickly, more to add to Virgil and his horror game of hangman.

“Look, ill give you my notes, but my team and I gotta go,” Talyn tells Remy, he nods, thanking them for their help. Soon enough, the team clears out, leaving Remy and Carlton alone in the apartment. The bodies were cleared out, leaving pictures of the evidence for the detectives. Remy wishes they would take the smell with them, the fumes searing into his brain.

“Seems clean cut to me” Carlton shrugs, Remy jumps remembering he's there. It's weird, he's been working with Virgil for so long, the pair had just developed themselves. A well-oiled machine, but Remy and Carlton? The pieces just don't fit.  Remy goes to answer but is distracted by the ringing of his phone.

“Go for Nyx” He answers, turning away from Carlton.

“Hey, Rem…” Virgil's voice comes through the speaker, something is off. His speech is slowed, and weak.

“Hey, are you okay? Where are you?” Remy rushes, fearful but also a tad annoyed.

“Uh, Ro-roman collapsed… and he's in surgery right now and-” A stifled sob can be heard, the sniffling unbearable for Remy. he hates hearing his friend like this. “I-i'm sorry I know...I k-know you're…”

“Hey take it easy, you're ok” Remy assures, he's not sure why he does it but it's become routine. He rubs the ring around his finger, it was a gift from Virgil and Emile. “Look, I've got it, you just take care of yourself and Roman ok?”

“O-ok…” Virgil takes a deep breath “Don't uh..don't tell anyone. I don't want any more scandal or publicity for Roman. I gotta go, Logans freaking out about something...which is unusual so..” Remy laughs dryly

“Alright, bye” Remy closes his phone, shoving it away.

“Was that Virgil?” Carlton questions, Remy nods returning his focus back to the case. He looks over the letter, they have to be saying something. “And why is our partner not present?” He inquires, his voice dripping with...Remy can't explain it. But the way he says anything makes his body squirm, instantly putting up his defenses.

“My partner” He corrects “Is busy with a family emergency, Damian isn't feeling well” Carlton nods carefully, using his eyes to look around the empty apartment. Remy slaps his notepad frustrated. “I don't get it! E, L, I, T, A, L, W, S” He recites “What does it mean argh” Hes upset now, and totally valid too. All these letters and he can't stop people from losing their life. This isn't a game, this isn't a game Remy insists.

“Guess hes just not done” Carlton shrugs, Remy hates how casual he is about this.

“Not done?”

“With killing” Remy shudders, he never knew a voice could have so little...remorse “Seems like you're missing letters, so...you're probably missing victims” he concludes, Remy pauses.

“I do not like you” He states simply, and honestly.

[mintea-in-space]

This is also on ao3!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21844570/chapters/52133791#workskin

And as another warning, a suicide attempt is highly implied, but not out right stated, so please use caution!

Tar in His Veins Part 2

An inhuman scream ripped through the living room.

Delia had to grab Lydia’s arm to keep her from running back into the circle.

The demon writhed, screaming and sobbing, his back arching off of the couch.

And the blood.

More of it seemed to pour from him like a fountain as he howled.

Delia began chanting the words on the page.

The crystals seemed to glow, and the powder on the floor lit up. All while Beetlejuice made noises that no human ever could.

Lydia clamped her hands over her ears, sobbing, crying out.

That was her friend dammit!

And she couldn’t do anything!!

Her will almost broke when he screeched the first word he’d said since she found him.

“LYDIA!!”

She couldn’t do it. She shoved her face into Barbara arms. She couldn’t watch him suffering anymore. She couldn’t. Barb clutched the teen, feeling her shake with fear and sobs.

After what felt like years of pain and hurt, Delia finished the spell.

All was quiet.

Delia let out a shaky breath and collapsed into a kitchen chair. Lydia ripped her face from Barb, and ran to him.

He still looked like shit.

But. She could just barely see his chest rise and fall with weak breaths. His face was pinched in agony, although it was slowly smoothing out.

Lydia put a hand on his cheek.

“Beej?”

And his eyes snapped open.

His hair rippled, first blue, purple, and finally starch white.

“NononononoNONONONONONO!”

He scrambled at his chest.

“I WAS THERE I WAS ALMOST THERE NO WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!”

Lydia could see the whites of his eyes as they rolled in his head. It was like a cornered animal, he radiated fear.

She flailed, finally grabbing one of his wild hands and squeezing it. She couldn’t help the tears that welled in her eyes.

“It’s okay! Look Beej you’re alright! You’re okay! And look you’re home! We took care of you! You’re okay!-“

“IM NOT SUPPOSED TO BE!”

Again the room fell silent.

Beetlejuice’s hair melted into purple and that sickly yellow.

“I’m-“ a sob. “I’m not supposed to be okay! I was supposed to be gone so you never had to worry about me coming back! And so I couldn’t be stupid and selfish and give in and come back because I know if I do I’ll just ruin everything again, and I can’t hurt you again Lyds I can’t do it, I can’t bare the thought of-“

His rambling cut off. Wrenching his hand from her grasp he scrabbled at his jacket, muttering.

“Where is it is it still here please let it still be here.”

Lydia’s heart froze when he pulled it from his pocket, a grin on his face that looked strangled and wrong.

It was a knife. A nasty one. It looked to be carved from some kind of gem or crystal, and the edge glittered wickedly.

And the black ooze that dripped from it put ice into the hearts of everyone.

“See! I can fix this! It’ll be fine! I’ll just put right here and no one will ever have to worry about the horrible no good useless-“

Again he broke. Choking back sobs.

The knife clattered to the floor as Beetlejuice clutched himself. Of course. He couldn’t do it.

Juno always said he was too chicken shit, and it was a spur of the moment decision that actually made him do it in the first place. He couldn’t do it again. And now they brought him back.

Why?!?

Why did they even bother?!?

Thoughts spiraled into panic and confusion. Why would they even bring him back? He was nothing but trouble, a horrible blemish on their lives. He did nothing but ruin and destroy and mangle, it’s the only thing he was good at.

And they saved him.

He barely registered that he dropped the wicked thing.

It didn’t matter anyway.

He couldn’t do it himself, at least not again, so why-

Again, the grin that looked wrong spread across his face.

Blue replaced the purple in his hair, and that sickly yellow burned against it.

And when he opened his mouth the mangled laugher that came out sent goosebumps across the living residents’ skin. It was desperate and choked and awful.

“I get it! Ha! HaahhHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

The family looked on in horror.

“He’s lost it.”

Delia whispered.

“I GET IT NOW!”

Flying from the couch, he landed on his feet, and snatched up the knife.

“I REALLY GET IT! YOU WANTED TO DO IT YOURSELF RIGHT? FINE! I CAN DO THAT!”

And Lydia found the hilt of the wicked thing shoved into her hands.

“I get it!! I really do! Go ahead! FINISH ME!”

She just trembled, tears rolling down her cheeks, heart twisted in knots.

“Ohhhhh come on Lyds! I know you have it in ya! Ya did it before! Come on now don’t make me beg for it, I will!! JUST DO IT”

She shook hear head, sobs finally starting to break free.

She howled when he landed on his knees.

Thrusting the blade against his chest, he held her hands in place. And he completely changed, whispering now.

“Lydia please I’m begging you. Please. I don’t care how you do it just please stop making me wait for it I can’t handle the suspense Lyds. Please just-“

“ERGAAAAA”

With a animalistic howl, Lydia yanked her hands from his grip and threw the knife on the ground.

“I WON’T I JUST GOT YOU BACK!! I CANT LOSE YOU!! I WON’T DO IT!!”

And she sunk to her knees, head bowed as she cried.

“Why do you want me to hurt you?!”

Grinning that awful, broken grin, the demon just snatched the knife and turned to the Maitlands.

“You then! Come on Babs! I know hot stuff doesn’t have it in him, he couldn’t hurt a fly but you? Come on! I know you have the guts to do it!”

Barb barely managed to catch it when he tossed it towards her.

“I-“

His face twisted in a sneer.

“Do I need to remind you? Come on. It hasn’t even been that long up here!!”

Steeling herself, Barb shook her head. With a clatter she dropped the knife to the floor.

“I won’t.”

Beetlejuice sighed.

“Okay where do I start? So, I molested both of you, killed at least one person, tried to have you exorcised, married Lydia, uuuh, Oh! Trapped you in the attic! And totally jacked up the house! Come on that’s gotta be enough to make you wanna stab me right? Please?”

Turning, she kicked the knife as far away from him as possible.

Then she marched up to the demon and shoved her finger in his chest.

“YOU”

Another shove.

“DON’T”

Shove.

“GET. TO DO THAT.”

She snarled.

“WE BROUGHT YOU BACK BECAUSE WE CARE ABOUT YOU DIPSHIT! WE AREN’T GOING TO EVER GO THROUGH THAT AGAIN IF WE CAN HELP IT! EVER! SO YOU SIT YOUR ASS DOWN, AND HUG LYDIA FOR THE LOVE OF FUCK!”

Stunned, Beetlejuice simply opened and

closed his mouth.

That was when he really saw everyone.

Lydia was still shaking on the floor, Adam had a white knuckled grip on a kitchen chair, Delia was pale and breathing heavily in another kitchen chair, and Barb was steaming, face red with anger and unshed tears.

Both Adam and Delia looked like they were going to be sick.

That sickly yellow that Lydia hated spread, and covered Beetlejuice’s head.

“I-I just-“

He felt like he wasn’t in control of his body, he felt himself lower to the floor. He trembled. Self loathing finally taking over completely.

“I don’t wanna hurt you anymore.”

And with that the tension shattered.

Lydia launched herself into his arms, Adam and Barbara kneeling to wrap their arms around him. Delia hesitated, but joined them on the floor.

They stayed like that for a while. All of them crying and leaning on one another.

And they kept Beetlejuice there with them. Just holding him.

Eventually, he fell asleep.

Feedback is always welcome! I’ve read through it a few times, but I’m sure that things still slipped through. So if you see a typo please let me know! I’m definitely going to continue this, and probably draw stuff for it too! If anyone wants to draw scenes from this I would love to see it!! Please don’t tag a beetlebabes!

Also fuck Juno

[reddieorrnot]

Hey! I saw your post about byler request. Im craving a pinning Mike fic. Usually will is the one doing the pinning. Maybe after the move and will visits for the holidays and mike is whipped and trying to court him. I want mike to court the fuck out of Will

those who ask shall receive! it’s a bit iffy, i had a bit of trouble with pinning mike. hope this is alright! 

Will sat on the basement floor, legs crossed, and grin plastered upon his face. Happiness radiated off the scene before him, as he watched Lucas kiss Max on the cheek, and her eyes lit up. His group of friends and had all come together for a Christmas Eve party at the Wheeler house, as Karen Wheeler had openly accepted to be hostess. And considering the delightful pine scent in the atmosphere, the warm fire, and delicious food, the mother had done well. Everyone was laughing and smiling, all having a joyous time. Will felt safe, comforted, and most of all… home. He had gotten to choose the next Christmas movie for the party to watch, and he gleefully suggested A Christmas Carol. There was one thing off though, something he couldn’t explain. As Will tore his eyes off the couple before him, he slowly turned over to face the night’s mystery. As expected, Mike Wheeler was staring at Will. As Mike made eye contact, Will swore a blush made its way onto his face as Mike looked away. It wasn’t the first time that had happened today. Will had caught Mike staring at him multiple times, and it appeared that no matter how many times Mike’s actions were revealed, he wouldn’t stop. Will looked back to the gift exchange occurring and thought about all the other things that had happened leading up to that moment. 

***

When Will had first arrived, Mike wasted no time to hug him first. Will, Eleven, and his family barely had their feet through the door before Mike engulfed him. It was a hug that felt starved, desperate. As if being put before Eleven wasn’t already a surprise, the way Mike held WIll and brought him closer was enough to shock the boy right there and then. When Will finally felt like it was the appropriate time to pull away, Mike had fumbled over his words, struggling to put together a coherent sentence. It was confusing but all the more entertaining for the Byers boy. 

“I… I missed you, Will.” Mike finally muttered, low enough just for Will to hear. Will turned his head to see where Eleven had gone, his eyes landing on her in the arms of her redheaded friend. Will let out a dreamy sigh, returning his gaze to Mike. Mike’s words rang through his ears, words that he never thought would mean anything. Will pictured Mike missing Eleven, not him. But his words said otherwise, making Will’s heart speed up. 

“I missed you too, Mike.” He said bashfully. A smile crept onto Mike’s lips, and as the others came to greet him, it never faltered. 

***

After greetings and welcomes, everyone split up into doing their own thing. The adults found a home in the dining room, sipping wine and conversing. Nancy and Jonathan hung out in the kitchen, and Will and his friends sat in the basement. They were playing a game of twister, Mike and Lucas currently on the mat. Dustin was calling out the directions, laughing in-between turns because in his words, “You guys look so stupid!” 

Lucas was having a lot of fun, smirking as he moved with ease. Mike, on the other hand, looked far too determined for such a silly game. He kept mumbling about wanting to win, and badly. Lucas simply made a joke out of it, with Max building on the teasing. Unfortunately, Mike didn’t get what he wanted for once. When he was told to move his right hand to a blue dot, Mike slipped due to the difficult instructions. Lucas hollered with laughter, calling himself the king of twister. 

“Good job, Lucas!” Will smiled and gave Lucas a high five. 

Lucas was overly happy though, as he ignored the high five and pulled Will in for a hug instead. Will simply accepted the gesture and hugged him back. Over Lucas’ shoulder, Will noticed Mike pouting at the scene before him. Will was taken aback, no one could be pouting over losing to twitter, that was overly dramatic. And when Lucas pulled away from the hug and took Dustin in while singing his own triumph song, Mike looked away from Will and at the ground. Will felt like he was supposed to be getting something, but ignored the feeling. 

***

After the games, the party simmered down. The teens sat on the couch and snacked on the occasional treats Nancy or Jonathan would bring down for them. Soon the conversation steered in the direction of school. Eleven was talking to everyone, explaining how things were now due to the absence of her powers. She briefly spoke about what a good teacher Will was, helping her catch up on school material. The compliment brought up a giggle from Will, who was flattered. He went to deny the statement but was cut off.  

“Yeah, well, Will’s always been one of the smartest out of all of us,” Mike announced. It was random, unnecessary in a sense. Everyone else must have felt the same awkwardness as Will, because before anyone replied, there was a beat of silence. Mike seemed undisturbed though, letting his statement stand forth proudly. The heightened attention made Will nervous, and after a few seconds, everyone began to agree with Mike. 

“Thanks, guys.” Will chuckled, letting his eyes linger a bit longer on Mike. Will didn’t consider himself one of the smartest of the group, they were all intelligent. But the comment still boosted his self-esteem a bit, miraculously. 

After a few minutes had gone by, bouncing from topic to topic, Will felt a tap on his shoulder. 

“You know… You look really nice tonight.” Mike’s voice was soft, his words caught Will by surprise yet again. Not just because it was from Mike, but it was rare for anyone besides his mother to compliment his appearance. Matching Mike’s gentle tone, Will meant to accept the compliment but failed. 

“I don’t really think so… I forgot to plan out a good outfit for tonight…” Will tugged at his pale yellow sweater, referencing it. It was true, Will had spent so much time helping Eleven get ready (willingly) that he had forgotten about himself. He had settled for a pair of dark wash high rise jeans and a yellow pullover as previously stated of a yellow hue. The other boy’s outfit differed. Mike had a pair of khakis on, paired with a striped t-shirt. To top it off, he had added a black bomber jacket, it was a new style. Will wouldn’t admit it out loud, but Mike was the one who looked really nice tonight. 

“No, no. I really do think you look good.” Mike insisted. Will searched for some sort of pity in Mike’s eye, some sort of indication that his words weren’t from the heart. All Will saw was a glimmer of adoration, this made Will’s heart sting. He chose to ignore the unspoken tension between the two, and just gave Mike a smile. 

“Thank you, Mike.” 

It seemed to be as if Mike was going to say something else, but he was interrupted before he even began. Eleven had grabbed Will’s wrist, pulling him to his feet. A playful expression danced upon her face, leaking into an enthusiastic smile. Will was nervous about what was to come next. 

“Max put on the Girls Just Wanna Have Fun track! We love this song! Sing with me?” 

For a second, Will was in an indescribable state of embarrassment. There was a part of him that wanted to deny that he had ever even listened to the song and that he would never sing along to such a feminine song. But a deeper part of him ached to sing with Eleven, perhaps even Max. A part of him wanted to have fun, despite how… gay it would make him look. After the internal dispute, Will nodded at Eleven and returned her excitement. His friends were never ones to make fun of him, he had even thought about coming out to them. But it was too soon, Will wasn’t ready. He hoped his little performance with El wouldn’t give it away itself. 

Before he knew it, Will was dancing around with Max and Eleven, singing along, and giggling. Dustin and Lucas shouted out lines here and there, surprising Will by knowing anything besides the chorus. When Will didn’t hear Mike’s voice for a while, he turned to see what the boy was doing. 

Mike was looking straight at Will, with a foolish grin on display for everyone to see. Mike’s eyes were wide with awe, and Will felt his face get hot. He didn’t want to assume anything, but it was obvious that if Mike were to stare any longer, he would start to drool. Luckily, the song was ending soon anyways. Will let out one last line, then collapsed into a group hug with his girls. 

“I didn’t know I was attending a concert?” Dustin joked, putting a confused face on.

“Me either? When did I buy the tickets?” Lucas played along. 

Their comments threw Eleven and Max into yet another fit of giggles, they told the two that it was even better than a concert. Will gave himself the dare of looking back at Mike, and he did so. 

Mike was still looking at him, and after a moment's hesitation, he breathlessly said, “Yeah… even better than a concert.” 

Will pretended like he didn’t hear it, but he couldn’t hide the smile that made its way to his face. 

***

A Christmas Carol played on the television, as Eleven passed around the bowl of popcorn. Will was brought back to reality and remembered where we was. He wanted to kick himself for thinking so much about everything that had happened with Mike, that he had missed the first two minutes of the movie. He pushed those thoughts aside and grabbed a handful of popcorn. 

***

They were about thirty minutes into the movie, and about 20 remarks telling Dustin to stop commenting on everything had been made. Every time someone told him to shut up, Will couldn’t help but laugh. They all knew Dustin wasn’t going to quiet down soon, but they still tried. At some point in the movie, Will felt a nudge in his side. 

“Come with me, I’ve got something to show you,” Mike whispered, beginning to stand up. Will didn’t want to miss anything from the movie, but Mike sounded urgent. So as quietly as possible, Will stood up from where was previously sitting on the floor. Max noticed them leaving, but didn’t say anything as she turned back to the movie. Mike didn’t say much as he led them out of the basement, and straight upstairs. Will took this as a sign to not say anything either, so he kept quiet. But when they had gotten to Mike’s room and there was still a blanket of silence between the two, Will finally broke.

“What did you have to show me?” He asked. Will looked around the room, it looked was neater than usual. Mike must have cleaned it up recently. It didn’t make much sense though, considering Mike never cleaned his room. Everyone knew Mike didn’t mind there to be a mess where he slept, Will, contrastingly, enjoyed a cleaner environment. 

“Well… I know we’re supposed to do it later but…” Mike kneeled down beside his bed, reaching underneath it. What he pulled out made Will’s heart flutter. In his hands was a nicely wrapped present, with a blue bow on top. Will could tell just by looking at it that Mike hadn’t wrapped it himself. Mike must have noticed what was running through Will’s mind because he chuckled and spoke again.

“I tried to wrap it myself, to like… impress you or whatever,” Will’s mind lingered on the idea of Mike trying to do something for him, “But I failed horribly. Got Nancy to wrap it instead, she even added the bow. Isn’t that cool?” 

“Yeah, it’s a nice blue.” Will felt like an absolute dork complimenting the bow, but he was at a lost of words. Mike didn’t have to get him a present, and he especially didn’t have to go to the means of wrapping it. Mike never tried to wrap anyone’s presents. “Thank you, Mike.”

Mike chuckled and brought his hand to the back of his neck. An indication of nervousness, WIll thought. “You don’t get to thank me yet, you haven’t even opened it!”

Will nodded and began delicately unwrapping the gift. Before him was an art kit, filled with colored pencils and sketching ones. Had it been any kit, Will would have been thankful. But it had been a specific one, an expensive one, that WIll had wanted for months. He didn’t bring it up too often though, maybe mentioned it once or twice. So as he traced his finger along the packaging, he filled with shock. 

“How’d you remember I wanted this? Oh my god…” 

Mike sat down on his bed and looked at the ground sheepishly, “I pay attention to you, Will. Always have.” 

He didn’t mean to, he really didn’t, but Will couldn’t control the scoff he let out. Mike’s words contradicted his actions for months prior to Will moving, when he had been all over Eleven. They had broken up sometime between the move and the Christmas Eve party, but Mike’s behavior was still something that happened. “You didn’t pay much attention to me when you were with El…” 

Mike groaned, letting out a sigh. “I know. And I’m really sorry about that. I was a complete asshole and you never even got to hear me apologize, so I’m saying it now.” 

It was simple, but self-aware. So Will accepted his apology. “It’s a few months late now, Wheeler. But I’ll take it.” 

Mike laughed and shook his head, “I really am sorry, Will.” 

“Hey… it’s okay. You’re just a teen boy, it’s basically expected.” 

Mike smiled, “Get used to it because you’re this teen boy’s best friend.” 

Will simply rolled his eyes and returned to look at the present, baffled once again. 

“The day you said you wanted it, I wrote it down somewhere. I kept track of its price and saved up on the side.” 

Will didn’t tear his vision from the gift in his hands, “But why?” 

Will didn’t get a response, instead, he got a Mike who looked at him with big puppy eyes. Will’s gut knew what that meant, but he needed further confirmation. So Will slowly made his way to Mike’s bed, and sat down next to him.

He repeated himself, “Why?” 

“Because I like showing I care,” Mike answered simply, it was a hollowed-out reply, like the surfaced version. Will took a risk and pressed firmer on the topic. 

“Is that it?”

The room went quiet, all the noise from the party beneath the two boys being muffled. The room felt like a bubble, something like their own world. Mike must have felt the same safety because he finally continued to speak. 

“Because you matter to me. Because I care that you get what you want for Christmas, and that you know I’ve missed you, that I get to be the one to hug you and impress you by winning some stupid party game. I care that you get to know you look good and all of that. And… and…” 

Will swallowed nervously, his insides feeling like bundles of nerves. His eyes bounced from one attribute on Mike’s face to the next anxiously. He looked at how Mike’s eyes glimmered in this lighting, and how his freckles laid upon his skin. And lastly, he looked at how soft and gentle Mike’s lips looked. 

“And… what?” Will whispered unintentionally, his heart racing to such an extent he hoped Mike wouldn’t hear it, 

“And I care that you know I like you.” 

All night people had been grabbing Will and pulling him into things. Mike pulling him into a hug when he had arrived, Eleven pulling him up to dance, Lucas pulling him into his victory celebration. All were completely okay, Will found happiness in all the actions. But his favorite by far of the night, was at that moment. When Mike laid his hand on Will’s cheek, and slowly pulled him into their kiss. 

It wasn’t fireworks, or explosions. There was no fire of desire that got put out. It was home. Mike’s lips were as soft as previously assumed, and his thumb caressed Will’s cheek in a way that made time stop. It took a second for Will to kiss back, primarily because a boy he had been secretly crushing on for years was kissing him, and secondly because said boy was Will’s first kiss. But when he finally realized that even though this was Mike, it was also his best friend. Everything was always okay with his best friend. Will kissed Mike back, following in the same pattern of his movements. After a bit of time, Mike finally pulled away. The ball was in Will’s court, him kissing back could have meant anything, what really mattered was what he’d say to Mike. 

“You tried to impress me with winning twister?” Will realized with a laugh. 

Mike simply rolled his eyes and brought Will in for another kiss.

[bulletproofscales]

Could u pls do some 2seok where Jin fattens hobi up so much that the poor baby gets stuck in a door or breaks a chair? N he doesn't know how to feel but jinnie comforts him n feeds him n gives him tummy rubs n jst luvs him :(( ♡

—ok so,,, mayhaps,,, i got a little carried away,,,and wrote,,, over 5k words???? IM SORYY I HAVE A THING FOR 2SEOK. I love this request too!! It’s my first time writting a prompt about a character breaking something (that isnt clothing) so i really hope i dont let you down with this one!!–

Seokjin had already adopted their entire life to fit Hoseok’s size. The large size chairs with no arms, changing a wooden bed for a double matress on the floor, wide doors, open spaces. Every measure to make the younger as cozy as possible in the comfort of their own home. But this week, Mrs and Mr. Jung had asked the couple if they could watch over the house as they went on a short vacation; cramped rooms, old chairs, childhood beds.  To say Hoseok was frightened would be an understatement.

In his defence, he had every right to be anxious. There had been a drastic change on Hoseok’s frame, and his parents were too very slim individuals. He knew they had asked him and not sister just because she was on a short trip to Japan, he wasn’t the closest with his parents. They were judgmental enough when he was only chubby but now it had been a couple of months since his last visit, and anyone could say he was now properly obese. It wasn’t even an exaggeration at this point. His face had rounded out completely, and neck had disappeared entirely only to be replaced with a thick layer of fat. His chest had grown enough to be considered breasts, sagging down and resting on his enormous belly; which had grown enough to get in Hoseok’s way of normal everyday basics: he had a hard time putting on shoes, most times opting for sandals, put on pants, or well, joggers with extreme difficulty, he couldn’t even see his feet anymore! But it wasn’t a risky guess to say they were probably chubby as well. His stomach took so much space his arms, now flabby and with jiggly wings, couldn’t reach the bottom of it. His overhang so low it took up most space of his crotch; that also had a little separate pouch of fat above it. His love handles were now big enough to connect with the rolls of fat on his back. His legs had grown inwards and outwards, making it harder to walk or move in general. And it was all Kim Seokjin’s fault.

Hoseok was really fit once, lean muscles and sharp angles. In constant fear of dropping people’s expectations of him; that he was going to make it big, the world known dancer he had to become. The pressure was suffocating and soon turned the thing he loved the most, into the biggest toll on his mental health; to the point once he moved out of his parents’ house, the once extroverted cheerful boy isolated himself from not only his hometown friends but also the ones he had quickly made in Seoul. It was shocking to Seokjin when the guy he had not so long ago became his boyfriend, stopped talking to him entirely, even though he was older, he understood the stress of university. But it was summer vacation and there was still no sign of the dancer, of course, he didn’t expect him to burst out crying when he confronted the younger in his own apartment door. Yet with the discovery that this was much more than just stress from studies, Seokjin felt only more motivated to stay and to bring back the joyful man he met when the boy first entered university and their friend group. So he started hanging out more in the younger’s apartment, most days cooking his own meals for two; knowing fully well how more often than not, Hoseok would skip his everyday meals. And to Seokjin’s luck, the dancer not only accepted them but also ate them gleefully. Or at least that’s what the older could say from the now healthy weight he had gained. His ribs aren’t as noticeable and his every angle felt at least a little soter.; hi mood was better too, less anxious and even more confident in his own skin. Not as unsure, but the fun, extroverted and cheerful man he was before. Not only that, but Hoseok had also started to spend less time practicing in the dance studio, and more time at home; which gave the older the perfect opportunity to shower him with love, even though he was letting loose a little, it didn’t mean his incertenties disappeared. So the older would automatically preparee little details for huis boyfriend to see, from a single cupcake next to  a post it with an encouraging message on it, or an ice cream after a particularly hard day, or a full on feast of celebration. It was Seokjin’s way of expressing support, especially considering how hard Hoseok wa son his body. For example, there was a feast with all of the dancer, or well, ex-dancer, when he decided to change his major to literature. It wasn’t that Seokjin was against dancing, but it had become such a toxic aspect of his boyfriend’s life, the reason behind all of his insecurities and anxieties. The older couldn’t say he was upset with the change, rather excited by it. Hoseok, of course was still uncertain but not only with Seokjin but with the help of everyone, he learnt to feel comfortable on his current major.

When Hoseok was majoring in dancing composition, all of his boyfriend`s rich foods would burn out throughout the week; however, it just so happened that the literature major did not require half as much movement as his former one. So it wasn’t a surprise to anyone when the younger began to gain weight, barely noticeable at first as Hoseok had the metabolism of a teenager. But that could only keep him fit solong; slowly, and very gradually weight began to settle. Barely noticeable, a soft stomach rounder thighs, but now, it would be the first thing people saw in him when he walked past.

It was hard, even though he was near finishing his major, in a happy relationship., with an amazing group of friends who stood by him; Hoseok still had his doubts about his change in career, especially with the metamorphosis his body had gone through. But with his boyfriends’ help, they adjusted their life till it was hardly noticeable that he was any different to their friends. But that was in their apartment, in Seoul.

“Seokjin I don’t fit through the door.” Hoseok stated mortified in front of the too slim entrance.

“Oh come on, Hobi! No with that attitude you won’t!”

“I am physically unable to go through this door.” He stood rigid as he saw his boyfriend laugh hysterically already inside the house.

“Don’t be ridiculous Seokie! Come I’ll help you in.” The older stood now outside in front of Hoseok, Slim crooked fingers holding fat ones. “Do you wanna try sideways or normal?”

“Lets try sideways.” The younger said waddling till he was no longer facing the door but the house next to them. Seokjin slides his hands from his arms to the very center of the massive expanse of his stomach.

“Ok, now walk slowly, try sucking in once you reach the door.” The older’s calmness was somewhat contagious as Hoseok walked over to the door, his boyfriend was already inside though his hands were still on him, pushing the fat slightly inwards, he would squish and ohs every side that went past the door frame so that he would fit. And just like that, slowly and  carefully, Hoseok was inside his childhood home.

“If I have to do that everytime to get in an out of the house I think I’ll just stay in the entire week.” Hoseok groaned instantly finding a chair to sit down, cringing at the loud creak it produced. His breathing was heavy already, he could feel the heat radiating from his most likely red cheeks.

“Then don’t? I mean, you always used to complained how there wasn’t anything to do here anyway. And your parents already left tons of food for us to eat.” He shrugged cheekily “I say we use this week to relax, I know how stressed you’ve been with your thesis on that book..um…?” He gestured vaguely with his large hands.

“Demian” The younger started with a loud exhale of air, feeling the exhaustion from just the name of the novel alone.

“See? You are in need of a break, and you are in luck your amazing boyfriend is going to make sure, you have a good time!” He exclaimed rather dramatically, which earnt a fit of bubbly giggles from the younger. “I’m thinking….”He paused for a moment’s shifting his weight from one long leg to the other. “Movie marathon, blanket fort, and that stew you told me your mom left us.” Hoseok’s heart shaped smiled split his face in half, nodding quickly. And with that his boyfriend left to the living room, probably top build that for the mentioned. The younger would go grab the food and plates, however he had to get up first; a basic day to day thing that had become a difficulty with time. It took a few attempts but he was finally up and waddling his way into the cramped kitchen. It was hard, his ass constantly brushing against the counters, sometimes pushing pots in the process of moving; though he finally was able to not only waddle his way into the living room carrying the huge pot, but also go back for two large sodas and their plates glasses and chopsticks.

His childhood living room was turned into a blanket fortress, which wasn’t surprising knowing it was Seokjin’s specialty. The floor covered with pillows and blankets, making it comfortable to sit on the ground rather than the couch; it was a good call considering how small this couch was in comparison to theirs, Hoseok probably would only be able to fit half of his ass on it. Besides why would he choose the couch when he had his boyfriend already waiting open arms on floor, “The Lion King” ready to play in the tv in front of them, lights already dim and ready.  With an adoring smile he wobbled his way into the floor, sitting down with a loud thud and a long exhale of breath; automatically his boyfriend began to serve him a large portion and set on top of his massive stomach. It pulled down enough for his overhang to be completely settled on the floor covering his crotch; which was also being squished between the fat of his thighs which he had to have spread for ther eot be room for his overflowing stomach. He began to eat happily, one hand bringing food into his parted lipos and the other holding him up from behind; though his flabby arm got tired and he had to push himself backwards against the couch, his whole body jiggling violently with the movement.

He finished his serving quite quickly, and his appetite had changed drastically over the last couple of years, so he pushed himself forward to get a second. Though he finished that one at amazing speed too, so he had to move again to get his third; but by the forth serving Hoseok was growing tired of moving forward and back constantly and eye his boyfriend who had an arm over his shoulder and another hand mindlessly on his not yet bloated stomach. All it took was a slight cough from the younger and Seokjin is already bringing the pot near them to serve him his fifth serving of stew. There was nearly half of the pot left, though Hoseok kept up a fast pace until his seventh serving, he was feeling a little full, his stomach hardening on the slightest; yet this isn’t a worry on the younger’s mind as the large kept it’s steady rhythm tracing circles around the expanse of fat. It was on the eight serving where he had to take a break, his breathing reduced to heavy intakes of air; signalling silently for hs boyfriend to bring him one of the bottles of soda, not needing to be told to help him hold it the older did anyways; knowing Hoseok’s arms would only resist so long, long crooked fingers placed firmly on top of chubby ones as the younger gulped down.  There was less than half the bottle left, and his stomach had expanded ridiculously almost no fat left to squish; a loud whine made it past his oily lips before the younger could restrain it.

“Aw, Hoseokie, we both know there is still room left.” He left no time for the other to respond as a hand sneaked its way under the tight shirt and began pressing at the sides, massaging the pain away strongly. It took a couple of minutes but the younger finally felt a wave of hunger go through him because of the smell of the stew that is yet to be eaten inside the pot.

“I’m ready.” He stated quietly, though this time he didn’t move to grab Seokjin’s hand with the next serving on it. The older was quick to realize what he had to do, and pressed himself against Hoseok’s side, sinking into the flesh as he brought a mouthful of food into his lazily parted lips. Neither of them were paying attention to the movie anymore, both of them completely absorbed with what was happening. Stuffings weren’t a rare occurrence though every time both Hoseok and Seokjin got completely lost in it; the younger shivered with the feeling of hot stew slipping down his throat easily, warm all over because of their overeating, and Seokjin’s hot breath on his thick neck. A deep brush tainted his cheeks as he panted, poking his eyes open at the lack of food being sent his way, only to be found with an empty pot.

“I think this was meant to last us the entire week.” Seokjin’s says breathless, the younger knew he was excited by this too. They both acknowledged it, though never spoke of it. He felt the same way too, and even though Hoseok did spend a lot of his time eating and Seokjin feeding him; never like this. Not hours of stuffing that left both of them breathless, they both knew the other wanted that, though they never found the time. That was until they were asked to look out for the Jung parents’ house, all alone for an entire week. Maybe this week wouldn’t be so bad.

And he had been right, it was in this week were both lovers discovered the very wonders of feederism; testing the younger’s limits on every meal which had him on a constant state of fullness and laziness. Tonight was their last diner in the house before they had to leave the house. Seokjin was currently out, looking for all of their orders at the various restaurants Hoseok had ordered form. Not so much to their surprise, they had finished all of the food Hoseok’s parents had left them by the lunch of day two; or well at least the younger did.  Even though his hometown wasn’t necessarily the biggest, there so many orders that had Hoseok’s stomach rumbling angrily, but there was no food left! Unless…

He swung his gigantic mass forward and back looking for impulse to stand; it took a couple of tries but with a violent speed he stood up. The enormous amount of weight in his middle almost making him fall forward, he was already panting and he could feel his hearts speeding up. It took some moments of recomposure until he began to waddle his way into his parents’ bedroom; if his memory didn’t fail him, his mother had a secret stock of fattening foods for when she was on her diets. He sneaked his fat mass through the slim door into her closet and spread his knees seperate ways to make room for the giant rolls that formed whenever he crouched. and there it was the large “shoe box” underneath layer wsof clothes that covered it.

Happily he took it, though all this walking had tir4ed him out; he eyed the chair on hispàrents’ desk. It might not be the most comfortable, but he didn’t have the time to clean the crumbs he was going to leave in their bed afterwards, nor the energy to walk back to the living room. So with a sigh, he laid all of his weight aggressively on the weak chair. It creaked loudly but that was a normality now for Hoseok so he proceeded to excitedly open the box. He could start eating now, and when he had more energy go back to the couch, right?

He didn’t exactly know what he was going to find inside the box, though at this point he was willing to eat anything; he actually had a hard time reaching the insides of the box, having to be at a distance from the desk, his stomach getting in the way between him and the food. He let the desk sink into his belly as he reached over the massive chocolate bar and began to eat. His plans of going to the couch being forgotten  not only because he got lost on the eating and the feeling of his hunger decreasing gradually; but also the feeling of revenge on his parents. Knowing how much of a pig they would think he is ass overspilling on the chair, gut too fat pushing against the desk, too spoiled to be able to wait less than an hour without food.  It was thrilling, knowing how much o a pig he was; he wants to slow down so Seokjin could see him like this when he arrived; but i couldn’t help the speed at which food enters his mouth, he was so hungry. His train of thought had already stopped long ago, the feeling of food settling down at the bottom of his large stomach, in fact he had begin to close his eyes in pleasure, only hearing his heavy breathing and the noise of him biting and swallowing food he didn’t even took the time to recognize. So lost in the feeling, perhaps, too lost, as he couldn’t anticipate the loud crack coming from underneath him. Hoseok didn’t have time to process what had just happened, but the broken pieces of chair sinking into his flabby ass and the fact that he was now sitting on the floor; made it pretty clear.  He broke his parents’ chair.

He felt a wave of horror rush through him, the only thought that occupied his mind was “Failure”. He shouldn’t have dropped out of dance, he shouldn’t have gained al this weight; now it was too late, he was just a big fat disappointment to everyone who once knew him; this was probably too much for Seokjin too. What kind of person would want a morbidly obese partner? And like a bad ironic joke to Hoseok, he heard the door open.

“Hobi?” The older called loud voice resonating through the house. He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t want the othe to see him like this; so hurriedly and ungracefully he attempted to stand up, he failed at first and fell with a loud thud making the floor vibrate as an aftermath. The learning footsteps only made the younger more determined as he stood up after a large intake of air and waddlñed towards the door, just at the same time as his boyfriend.

“Oh, Seokjinnie, hi.” His voice sounded raspy and out of breath, and he saw Seokjin had rushed to him with the multiple orders still in his hand.

“Are you ok? I heard something cracking…Why are you in your parents`room?” Hoseok wa squick to overcompensate.

“Oh yeah I was feeling a little nostalgic and I know my mom had a box on her wardrobe with photos and stuff though I couldn’t find it, I just ended up knocking stuff over… Haha you know me I can be a little clumsy!!” Hoseok considered himself a good liar, and it had just been proven with the dark look that took over Seokjin. However, he could guess what was coming and after his insecurity break down, the last thing he wanted to do was eat. But if it got him out of his parents’ bedroom, he’d take it.

“Oh, I bet you looked great, your fat ass squished into that tiny little room.” Hoseok’s eyes widen, they had talked about those types of nicknames during the week, and HOseok was actively in favor of them. But Now, all they did was make his stomach twist in a nauseous nature. He let out an exaggerated whine

“Seokjin, can’t we just go and eat in the living room? I’m too hungry to wait.” It wasn’t really a lie, as much self deprecation he felt. He still wasn’t quite full. He tensed in fear as he felt one of his boyfriend’s long fingers brush against the outside of his mouth,  cleaning off a stain of dark chocolate.

“Even after you stuffed your face while I was gone, pig?” Hoseok stood rigid, he felt another large hand press against the top of his stomach pushing him further inside slightly. The younger’s lack of answer only encouraged the other to continue. “Maybe I spoiled you too much, huh fatso? You can’t even wait 40 minutes without food in your mouth. And what’s worse is you probably are hungry. It’s never enough for you, just can’t stop gorging yourself into what you are now, a big, fat pig.”

“Airplane!” Hoseok couldn’t hold the scream that left his lips. The use of the safeword instantly making Seokjin’s eyes softened, he didn’t barge the younger with questions, knowing fully well this would only overwhelm him more. Instead he placed a cold hand on his round heated cheek. Though he remained silent, though his nerves urged him to know and with the most gentle voice he could muster he spoke.

“Seokie, you can tell me.” He pleaded silently although he was desperate. The younger was looking down, ashamed, Seokjin’s caring voice being the only thing that motivated him to tell.

“I broke my parents’ chair.” He stated in a quiet voice. “I sat in it and after a couple of minutes it just fell apart” As he went further explaining the situation he could hear his voice wobbling. “A-and now, I just can’t stop thinking about what would they think, and how disappointed they must feel, they hate me enough knowing that I gave up becoming a dancer. B-but I can’t even imagine what they would think if they saw me like this. Fuck, it must be disgusting even for- for you.” He didn’t dare to look at Seokjin’s reaction, fear shaking him to the point of crying. Though he didn’t realize he was doing so until he felt soft touches over his long ago faded cheekbones, he looked up startled.

“Hoseok.” The older’s tone sounded serious, stern even . “I could never disgusted by you. You know how gorgeous I think you are, any weight, any size. I- I wish I would have been here when it happened, made sure you were comfortable. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” He sounded helpless as his dark eyes searched within Hoseok’s.

“It was embarrassing ok? I was already beginning to think you would be grossed out by me.” He said sounding a lot more comfortable in the situation.

“Well, you thought wrong…And…I get if you don’t want to do the stuffing, though you are still having something for dinner.” The older too was regaining his cheeky demeanor as he spoke. And although what happened had left him feeling self conscious, the idea of Seokjin taking care of him with a sesion didn’t seem that bad; the thought of gentle hands and caring words took over his head as he answered almost automatically.

“No no! Actually, I would really like that.” His words came out desesperante at first and then became shy and embarrassed, though his words caused a wide grin to his boyfriend’s face. He passed all the bag orders into one hand, which honestly seemed to be straining his slim fingers and with the other he extended it fo Hoseok to grab. Holding onto it tightly they walked together through the thin corridors into the living room. The younger sitting with a heavy exhale, the loud creak of the couch brought back memories of what had just happened minutes ago., though luckily, Seokjin wa squickly next to him, all orders splayed out on the coffee table a careful hand caressing his chubby cheek.

“What would you like to start with baby?” His voice was so soft, the older clearly understood what Hoseok needed instead of their ordinary rather more intense stuffings. And Hoseok was grateful for that.

“With the chicken.” The younger’s voice came out equally quiet. ANd no more words were needed as Seokjin reached out onto the table grabbing the dish and bringing mouthfuls into his boyfriend’s lips; their pace was slow and steady. The older’s nose brushing against Hoseok’s flabby cheek, nuzzling closer to his side with each bite. It wasn’t long until he finished the plate, lips oily with grease, though Seokjin didn’t seem to mind as he kissed him sweetly.

“You are doing so good already Hobi. So good for me. How’s your stomach feeling?” Hoseok is only able to answer with a low whine, chubby fingers reaching out to the center of his stomach, where his fingers met Seokjin’s. “No,no. Let me take care of you.” And with a tight squeeze to the younger’s hand, he continued rubbing circles all along the top of the massive dome lightly. Hoseok didn’t feel that full, though it helped to take things slowly and gently. They stayed like that for a couple of minutes, him leaning back relaxing enough to have his eyes closed  as Seokjin’s hands found each their way to knead they doughty flesh. Quiet hums escaped his lips under the pressure of the older’s hands. Until they stopped moving, and  suddenly he felt a warm breath against his ear. “What next love?” Hoseok peaked his eyes opened and analized what was  before him. Avoiding to look at his boyfriend knowing fully well the rosey tinted his face would have under the use of that type of nicknames.

“Pork please.” His voice was cheerful once again, which only gave Seokjin more motivation to reach out and began feeding him, still slowly yet the atmosphere had changed; the air seemed lighter and it had seemed as if the chair incident had been forgotten. The older leaned in to spread light kisses over all of Hoseok’s soft shoulder; which earnt as a result contagious giggles from the other. Though he was quick to shut up when the food was brought to his mouth. This time, a lot more open than when they had first started the stuffing, the younger hummed in approval; could be because of the taste of the food, or because Seokjin’s kisses to his body had become sloppy and slow. The feeling of tightness was taking over Hoisoek’s expanded middle, ever so slightly he whined and took the plate from Seokjin’s hands, earning a confused glance. “I-I’ll go one, but, rub my stomach?” He didn’t sound desperate though, the way his face scrunched up in pleasure once the older began massaging his dome was enough.

“Of course baby, you know how much I love taking care of you. Seeing you treat yourself,  eat to your heart’s content; it makes me so happy Seokie.”  Long fingers groped gently the large overhang of Hoseok’s stomach, whilst the other hand rubbed circles all over the middle strongly. Warm words encouraged the younger to speed up his pace as he ate his way through the second dish, finishing it quickly. Seokjin’s eyes were on him constantly, looking mesmerized as he saw his boyfriend eat. “What next sweetheart?” There were only two more dishes left before going into desserts, so there wasn’t that much choice.  

“Pass me the stake and I’ll eat the burger last.”  And instantly he had the dish placed carefully on the top of his large stomach. He began to eat, his pace even quicker than before, a rush of motivation getting to him. Of course his boyfriend noticed, acknowledging HOseok’’s efforts with a tight squeeze to his thick love handles.

“You are finishing them so fast, ‘m so proud. You are doing amazing baby, enjoying yourself to the fullest, well fed; taken care of, that’s what you deserve. “ Gentle words came along with a burger set in front of him. Hoseok was already feeling properly full by now, pace still fast though not as willingly. He bit into the large burger and moaned around it, the flavour of the burger mixing with the way Seokjin’s strong hands roamed and groped all over him, sending him waves of pleasure. The younger’s eyes were half lidded, his breathing has become heavy and a thin layer of sweat covered his entire mass. Though finishing the burger was becoming hard, his  stomach had hardened to its majority which lead to a lethargic lazy pace of eating. He counted the bites left for him to finish it, and once he did, he was saddened at the lost of not only Seokjin’s hands over his body but the warmth of his body next to him. The older was bringing the two desserts that they had ordered onto the couch, occupying the space where Seokjin had formerly been sitting; and with that he happily sat on Hoseok’s lap, slim torso pushing against hard dome earning a loud moan from both of them. “Your stomach is so hard, you ate so much, Seokie. You did so well, how about we mix both the ice cream and the cake for you to drink huh? How does that sound?” Seokjin’s voice remained gentle and caring, HOseok keened at the praise nodding desperately at the amazing suggestion. The older stood up and walked the kitchen where the noise of the blender could be heard. Quickly the weight of his tall boyfriend was again on his laps as he handed him the large glass with a straw, holding it with both hands as he drank it easily. The feeling of cold liquid sliding down his throat, made his entire body relax. Seokjin took both of his free hands as an opportunity hands caressing and pressing onto the places he saw impacted Hoseok the most, the younger had his full attention as he saw his expression change when he pressed his side or the top of his stomach. Though he found the sweet post once he saw Hoseok’s face scrunch up when he groped and jiggled strongly the overhang of his massive stomach. With both hands at the bottom, he leaned down and began to spread kisses all over the clothed dome, in between kisses soft caring murmurs made their way past Seokjin’s full lips. “So good Hobi, so good for me. You are so beautiful, so stunning.” Hoseok’s  face heated up at the encouraging words, motivating him to finish his dessert even though he felt to his limit. With a big intake of air, he swallowed what was left of his milkshake; he finished and his stomach was throbbing, making him scrunch his face up in pain and not pleasure. Though no words were needed as Seokjin’s expert hands pushed his sides inwards with slight strength, leaning in for his boyfriends chocolate lips, the sweet taste of what he had just eaten taking over his own mouth. Their kiss started quick and chaste but grew sloppy and slow, with the only interventions being the older praise.

“You did amazing Hoseok, I’m so proud of you. My beautiful, boyfriend, did so good, so full and happy just for me…We’ll have to get them a new chair though.”

[bexlynne]

Time To Go Slumming (Chapter 1)

(A/N): Hey!  I’m finally writing again, after over a year of not!  I’m very happy to be doing what I love again.  I’ve been working on this story for close to a year, and I’ve finally written enough of it that I’m ready to start posting!  Let me know what you think of the story and my OC’s, and let me know if you want to be tagged in future updates of this story! Trigger warnings for this chapter: use of the word ‘whore,’ sexual harassment, violence, mentions of death.

Spot paced back and forth along the roof, fingering the gold finial on his cane. Every so often he stole a glance at the street down below, keeping an eye on his boys. They were just starting to get home, trickling into the lodging house in twos and threes as the sun started to go down. He kept a mental tally, swearing under his breath when he came up two short. The two he was looking for, of course.

"Extra, extra!" Riddle shouted. Her voice carried even to Spot's ears, a block down and two stories up. "Maniac on the loose in 'Hattan! Hundreds flee the city!"

Hot Shot grinned, cupping his hands around his mouth to bellow his own headline. "Unda'paid milkman drives truck through factory! Death count high!"

"Mayor falls in love with seagull!"

"Drunk jockey at Sheepshead runs race without a horse!"

"Drunk vaudeville singer falls off stage mid-song!"

Spot shook his head in disgust, watching as a man stopped them a few feet from the lodging house. He took the pape from Riddle and handed a coin to Hot Shot, touching his cap to both of them before he left. I didn't think it was possible. These two is worse than Kelly.

Pushing himself up from the railing, Spot brought his fingers up to his mouth and let out a piercing whistle. Both newsies looked startled, and he pointed at them with his cane. "Both of ya!" he called. "Get up here." Hot Shot let Riddle slide to the ground, leading the way to the fire escape ladder. Spot could hear them bickering even from where he stood.

"Ladies first," Hot Shot said with a bow.

Riddle took a step back with a shake of her head. "Not a chance. I ain't gonna have ya checkin' me out as I climb the ladder."

"I had ya on my shoulders all day and didn't try nothin' once, what are ya talkin' about?" Hot Shot said indignantly.

"Ya can neva' be too careful," Riddle said in a singsong voice.

"Yeah, since ya care so much 'bout bein' careful," Hot Shot teased.

Riddle parked her hands on her hips with a scowl, like the older boy didn't have a good six inches on her. "Says the fella who let me fall."

"It was an accident!" Hot Shot protested.

"Twice?" Riddle scoffed.

Spot rolled his eyes. "Would you two cut it out an' just get up here?" he yelled down the ladder. He resumed his agitated pacing, muttering to himself. "Why can't ya just act your age?" he said under his breath, casting a baleful glare in their direction.

Hot Shot pulled himself up onto the roof, giving Spot a nod and pausing for a second to give Riddle a hand. She sat down right where she was, leaning her back against the railing and stretching her legs out in front of her. "I wanna sleep," she said with a yawn. "Is it time for bed yet?"

"Quit your gripin', I did all the walkin'," Hot Shot said good-naturedly, nudging her leg with his foot. He reached into his shirt pocket, taking out a slightly squashed hunk of bread and tearing it in half. "Ya eat yet today?"

Riddle sat up straighter, reaching out for it. "No," she said, a note of bitterness in her voice. "Those old bats don't give me a second glance. Judgmental old hags."

Both boys' heads whipped in her direction. "Riddle!" they said at the same time. Spot's tone was scolding, and Hot Shot sounded horrified.

"Ya can't just insult nuns!" the Italian said, his dark eyes wide. He performed the sign of the Blessed Cross, making Riddle -the only one of them who wasn't raised Catholic- roll her eyes.

"Whateva' ya say," she said drily. "My point is, they won't give me food. They think I's some kind a' whore."

Spot grunted. "Ya are a whore."

Riddle opened her mouth to protest, then she changed her mind. "Fair enough." She sat back against the railing, chewing her bread, and Hot Shot dropped down beside her to count out the days' earnings, dividing the coins into two neat piles. Spot waited impatiently for them to finish, tapping out a beat with his cane on the ground.

Most people had a way of getting on his nerves, these two only slightly less than others. They could be irritating enough most days, but these two -the cool-headed Italian and the fiery, flirty gypsy girl- were part of his inner circle, somewhere between allies and friends. Hot Shot was the same age as Spot, fifteen, and the two of them had been fast friends since they were eleven. The other boy had Spot's level head for leadership, but without the quick temper that so often got Spot into trouble. His easy-going nature and the way he kept his temper under control made him a valuable second-in-command to have.

Riddle was a year younger, and the only girl living at the Poplar Street lodging house. She had been only ten years old when she had somehow charmed her way past house manager Mr. Crawley and into the ranks of the Brooklyn newsies, and she hadn't lost any of her skill since then. Then again, she was a lot less trouble back then, and old Mr. Crawley's heart was a lot softer. Either way, her quick thinking and out-of-the-box ideas had earned her a place close to Spot... in more ways than one. She had a few other attributes he was fond of, too.

Finally, Riddle swallowed the last of her bread and looked up, her violet-blue eyes meeting Spot's. "What'd ya need us for?" she asked, starting to untie the length of twine securing one of her braids.

Spot rolled a cigarette between his fingers before striking a match against the concrete and lighting it. He didn't miss Hot Shot's flinch as he did so, or the way he tugged his shirtsleeves down further and wrapped his arms around his torso. Spot saw it all -he saw everything- but he ignored it, blowing out a breath of smoke. "I's been hearin' things from me boids," he said. "There's whispers of a turf war brewin', ova' in Queens."

The other two exchanged glances. "So?" Riddle said cautiously. "Queens always fights ova' boundaries. Stretch is a good enough leada', he keeps 'em in check."

"He did," Spot corrected with a grim smile. "'Til they found 'im in the river."

He kept that eerie smile on his face as Riddle let out a gasp and Hot Shot muttered a curse in Italian. "A'right," Hot Shot said after a moment. "So they's without a leada', and they's fightin' with themselves. What's that gotta do with us?"

Spot rolled his eyes, running his fingers down the length of his cane. "'S only a matta' a' time 'fore a new leada' rises ta the top. New leada's is full a' bluff an' bluster. First thing he'll wanna do is try ta prove himself by takin' Brooklyn."

"Ya don't know that," Hot Shot said with a slight frown.

Spot took a seat, propping his feet up and letting his cigarette dangle from his fingers. "Ya wanna bet? I'se been around long enough ta see three guys take ova' Queens. Neither a' you was here, but Jumper always stomped 'em out quick 'fore they could do any damage." He noticed Riddle stiffen at the mention of the old leader's name, and he was curious as to why. Carefully, he filed that information away before finishing his thought. "We's got a chain goin', and I ain't lettin' myself be the weak link. Brooklyn don't fall, not on my watch."

Riddle rearranged her features carefully, building up her mask of indifference before she spoke again. "That why we ain't allies with them like we are with 'Hattan?"

Spot studied her appraisingly. "More or less," he said finally. "If me boids is right, they'll have a new leada' come summa'. We's'll hafta be on our guard 'til then, make sure they don't try nothin' while it's still every man for hisself. I want ya ta stay away from the borda', Riddle."

"I don't go there, anyways," the girl said, shaking out her hair and stuffing the twine in her pocket. "Too close ta Blade's territory."

"Don't talk about him," Spot snapped. "I ain't in the mood."

Riddle frowned. "I ain't talkin' bout nothin'," she said. "You's the one who brought it up."

"I didn't bring nothin' up," Spot countered. "I just told ya-"

"As entertainin' as this is," Hot Shot cut in. "I'm out. It's too late for sparks ta be flyin' between you two. I's headed ta bed."

Spot glanced up, surprised to see the moon high in the sky. "Yeah, that's prob'ly a good idea," he agreed. "Whaddaya say, Rid? Let's save the sparks flyin' for the bedroom."

Riddle shifted her position to sit by Spot. "Sounds good by me," she said, her hands traveling up his suspender straps to rest behind his neck. Her slender fingers tangled themselves in his hair, and a playful smirk crossed her face. "Let's save the real fun for lata'."

"Yeah, I didn't need ta hear that," Hot Shot stated, scooping up his coins and getting to his feet. "'Night, sorella," he added to Riddle, handing her her share.

Riddle slipped the coins into her pocket and gave him a little wave. "'Night, Hot Shot," she said, laying her head back on Spot's chest. It was only a few moments before his restless energy was back, and he pushed Riddle off of him and crossed over to the railing.

The gypsy girl stood up with a sigh. "I should head down, too," she said. Spot didn't turn, didn't even seem to hear her. "Are ya comin'?" she pressed, wrapping her arms around her waist.

He glanced back at her. "Nah, I'm good up here," he said. "G'night."

Riddle waited a moment, but he was apparently done talking to her. "Night," she said, turning to find the ladder.

"Up and at 'em, boys!" Crawley yelled through the open doorway. He heard a few muffled groans from inside and rolled his eyes, stepping through the doorway and into the darkened room. He was instantly hit with the smell of unwashed socks, teenage boys, and wool clothes drying on the radiator. "C'mon, get up, get up," he scolded, crossing to the first bed he saw and giving the boy in it a shake.

The boy -Tracks, judging by the shock of red hair poking out from under his blanket- swatted Crawley's hand away. "Lea'e me 'lone," he mumbled, curling up tighter.

The house manager shook his head in response, a grin spreading across his face. "C'mon, boys! Up and at 'em!" he ordered, flicking on the lights. He opened the windows for good measure, shivering slightly at the draft. With a glance at Spot's empty bed, he ducked out of the room and took the attic stairs two at a time to wake Riddle. "You up, girlie?" he asked, rapping on the wooden door.

"Yeah, I's gettin' there," the girl called from inside.

"Spot better not be in there with ya," he warned, not budging an inch.

He heard a pause, a snap of suspenders, and then- "oh, Mr. Crawley, we would neva'."

"Don't you try that on me," Crawley retorted, rolling his eyes. "Ya may have those boys all wrapped up in those pretty little fingers a' yours, Miss Ridley, but not me. Where's Conlon?"

The thin door couldn't muffle her laughter, prompting him to roll his eyes again. "No idea. He was up on the roof all night, came down the fire escape. He passed my winda' on by. It was about four, I think. Ain't seen him since then."

Crawley shook his head, turning back to head down the stairs. That boy. Pausing outside the bunk room door to yell a few early morning encouragements to the boys -"Hurry up, ya lazy bums! My ol' granny moves faster than all y'all, God rest her soul!"- he strode into the front room and dropped into his desk chair.

"Mornin'," a voice said, causing the man to jump a foot into the air. Spot stood in the doorway to the kitchen, leaning against the jamb with a smirk on his face.

"Land sakes, boy!" Crawley sputtered, his southern drawl coming out thicker than usual. "Scarin' me nigh ta death like that."

"Calm down, old man," Spot said, leaning lazily against the desk.

"Old," Crawley muttered indignantly. "Ya better watch that mouth a' yours, boy. I'm twenty-five, and ya know it."

"The boys givin' ya trouble?" Spot asked knowingly, ignoring the threat.

Crawley waved a hand dismissively, sitting back down. "Boys'll be boys."

"Not on my watch," Spot said darkly, pushing up from the desk and heading up the stairs.

Riddle passed him on her way down, dressed in a green-and-blue checked shirt and gray trousers, her cap stuck in her back pocket and her hair tied up in braids. "Mornin', Crawley," she said sweetly.

The Texan softened some, sending the girl a fond smile. "Good mornin', darlin'."

Spot rolled his eyes. "Suck up," he hissed to Riddle as he breezed past.

Riddle grinned, flipping him off behind Crawley's back.

"Hey, that ain't very ladylike," a voice drawled from the top of the stairs. Sting sauntered down to stand next to Riddle, his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the wall, just a little too close for her liking. "What about me? Don't I get a good mornin'?"

Riddle crossed her arms over her chest, sliding back a step out of the older boy's reach. Sting- seventeen, always pushing the envelope and a constant thorn in Spot's side. And, by extension, Riddle's. "Good mornin'," she said stiffly.

"Not good enough," Sting said, snatching up one of her suspenders and tugging her towards him. His tone was joking, but his eyes were cold as ice.

"Let go," Riddle said irritably, yanking the strap out of his hands and snapping them up on her shoulders.

"Ohh, I see how it is," Sting said with a grin. "You's Spot Conlon's whore, but when it comes ta the rest of us you's man-shy."

Crawley got to his feet, but Spot beat him to it. "Sting," he said brusquely from the landing. Crawley felt a smile spread slowly across his face. For all his faults, Spot had a radar when it came to Riddle. It made Crawley's job that much easier.

Spot moved down to the bottom step, folding his arms and gripping his cane tightly. "Ya got somethin' ta say ta Riddle?"

Even on the step Spot was about two inches shorter, but Sting's resolve wavered. "No," he muttered.

Sting shifted uncomfortably as Spot's gaze burned into him. "Somethin' ya got ta say ta me? Thoughts on how I run the place?" When he didn't get an answer, Spot's arm jerked up without warning, clipping the bigger boy's jaw with the head of his cane. "Get outta my sight," he ordered. One hand flying up to cradle his chin, Sting fled without a word.

Riddle bit her lip, smiling slightly. "My hero," she teased, wrapping her arms around Spot's neck. She pressed a quick kiss to the side of his neck, right below his ear.

Instead of grabbing her waist and pulling her closer, like he usually did, Spot batted her off. "I's gotta get the boys," he said, sliding his cane through his belt loop without looking at her. "They take too long." He spun on his heel and headed for the staircase.

Crawley hesitated, still standing behind his desk. "You okay, girlie?" he asked, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Riddle glared at Spot's retreating back. "I's fine," she said shortly. "Tell Hot Shot ta hurry it up, will ya?" Shrugging out from under Crawley's hand, she pushed through the front door and let it close with a bang.

Crawley sighed, leaning back against the desk. "It's too early for them to start with this," he muttered.

Riddle was leaning against the red brick wall of the distribution center when the boys got there, poring over a copy of the day's paper. "We get paid ta hawk the papes, not read 'em," Hot Shot said, snatching it out of her hands and examining the headline.

Riddle bumped against him with all her weight, but the Italian boy barely wobbled. "Gotta check out the merchandise," she said. "Figure out the angle for the day."

"Fair enough," Hot Shot said with a shrug, handing the paper back. "Why'd ya skip out on us?" he inquired.

Riddle fiddled with the chain around her neck, sinking down to sit cross-legged with her back to the wall. "Don't see no point in waitin' 'round for the nuns, not when I don't get nothin' outta it," she said finally, spreading the paper out in front of her. "Figured I's'd get here early, beat the crowd."

"Good plan," Hot Shot agreed. "'Cept I don't have my papes yet, so you's still gotta wait."

Riddle threw a bundle of papers at his chest, a smirk spreading across her face. "Ya owe me forty-five cents," she said.

Hot Shot dug around in his pocket and flipped her a fifty-cent piece, deftly catching the nickel she tossed his way with the other hand. "Let's get movin' then, whaddaya waitin' for? We's wastin' daylight and losin' customers." He let his bundle of papes rest on his shoulder, pushing his long dark bangs out of his eyes. "Usual spots. Yell if ya get inta trouble, 'kay Rid?" When a moment or two went by without an answer he tried again. "Rid. Ridley," he said in a singsong voice. "Riddle!"

His selling partner flinched, her violet-blue eyes snapping into focus. "What? Jeez, Hot Shot."

"Bad mornin'?" he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting in a grin. "You was blankin' out."

"Shuddup," Riddle said, ducking away from him. "I don't blank out. I was plottin' out my sellin' patterns for the day," she added primly.

"Sure," Hot Shot said knowingly. "Flirt with anythin' that moves and beg for money. Takes a lotta thought ta plan that one."

"Didn't I tell ya ta shut up?" Riddle protested, dodging the hand that reached out to ruffle her hair. "Get out there, we's got papes ta sell. I ain't buyin' your dinner for ya tonight."

"Yes, ma'am," the older boy said with mock severity. "Ya won't see me again today." Shaking his head with a smirk, he headed off towards Prospect Park. "I'll take the south side a' the park, you take the north."

"No... Hot Shot!" Riddle yelled after him. "Wind's comin' from off the bay. You'll sell more on the east side."

He grinned, halting in his tracks. "Grazie per il consiglio, sorella," he called back, not bothering to turn around. "Stai attento." He knew she most likely didn't know that phrase, but he also knew that he was confused practically every time she tried to give him advice, so he figured they were even. Taking a deep breath, he set out to face the day. Take it one thing at a time, Hot Shot. For now just work on sellin' your first pape.

"Ma'am!" he said, falling into step beside a woman pushing a pram. "Have ya read today's paper? There's some kind a' maniac loose in the park, ya might wanna find a different route for your walk. A penny'll buy ya all the details."

I can do this. Today's gonna be a good day.

Italian translations:

Sorella - sister

Grazie per il consiglio, sorella. - Thanks for the advice, sister.

Stai attento. - Be careful

[chocobostrinket]

I don’t know what I was up to last night, but I ended up writing a thing with another OC. She does have a name, but you never get to find out what it is. Sort of a witchy sort of character. There was a storm last night, and that made me want to write something. So here’s this. Thanks for reading if you do!  

~

She wasn’t aware of someone in her house with her until the needle and thread were taken out of her hands. It didn’t surprise her, though it should have. It annoyed her.

“I wasn’t finished with that,” she said, her voice soft, lifting her head to look at her guest.

It was only then that she noticed how stiff her neck was, and how sore the movement made her. She’d been so wrapped up in her work that the whole night had passed her by while she’d been hunched over her beads. Her eyebrows pulled downward and her mouth pulled back, a grimace, as if she’d forgotten that she had a body. But it was no matter she decided. She wasn’t finished. She began to reach across the table to take back the tools of her trade. But a spike of pain from her fingers made her pause, and she could see that they might have been poked with that same needle more than once as she worked. Aside from that, they refused to move, muscles locked from long hours doing delicate work.

“Ah,” was all she said at the realization, “Trapped in my head again.”

Across from her, Nyx set down the needle and thread on the table and clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“You know you shouldn’t fixate on things like this, it’s not good for you,” he said, walking over and took one of her hands in his own.

She shrugged at that, “I promise you, it’s not done on purpose.”

Nyx looked over her hand, mapping out the damage done, and then in a burst of sparks he held bandages. He usually kept them there for missions but needed them now. He’d replace them later, he decided. He knelt down then and began to cover the needle marks first though they no longer bled, and then began wrapping down her finger.

Seeing what he was doing made her sigh, “You don’t have to-“

“But I will.” Nyx said firmly to her, ensuring that there was no argument between them.

She allowed it then, letting Nyx wrap her fingers, only wincing when he forced movement back into them. By the time he was finished, she could flex her hands again, albeit slowly, and move her wrists. Though they popped with the movement and pain radiated from her bones. It was fine, she thought, she was used to it after all.

Nyx, however, mentally winced at the action and sound. The girl before him was younger than him, but he wasn’t sure by how much. No one knew much about her either. She’d just appeared one day, or perhaps had been there the whole time and no one noticed. Until they did. They learned even less about her as time passed. Only that she was one of the very few remaining crafts people left from Galahd. And that she was hurting. Lost in her grief. For what, or who, no one knew. Sometimes, neither did she.

“Do you know what day it is?” Nyx asked, rising from where he’d been kneeling.

She tilted her head and looked at the floor, as if she’d find the answer there, “If you’re here, it means it’s… Thursday?”

A soft sigh left Nyx. At least she was trying. “Tuesday actually, but close enough kid.”

The girl was strange in that fact that she’d known all their names and faces, and never forgot them after meeting them. But she forgot basic things. Like the current date, or to eat, or to sleep. So, they took turns checking on her if they could. They weren’t always around, due to deployment or assignments, but she’d manage fine without them. Or rather, she survived. Which was no way to live.

Sometimes, she scared them with her habits. She was someone who was in the background, and never stepped out of it. Someone who could fade away and no one would notice. A quiet, slip of a person, who at times would seem miles away in the same room. She was always cold, like the chill left after a storm. He worried about her but knew that she was trying her best not to worry any of them.

“Never where a ring, Nyx.” She said suddenly, breaking into his thoughts. She nodded, seemingly deciding that the words sounded right, and continued, “They can’t be trusted you know.”

He flashed a smile at her, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

She hummed in acknowledgment, and then looked over at the clock. It was early morning, before Nyx had to go to work she reminded herself. That was why he was here. She looked back to him as he finished wrapping her last finger.

“Thank you.” She said, mostly out of reflex, pulling her hand to herself to inspect his work. Mainly because she’d never been able to get bandages to behave as he did.

He nodded in response, sitting down in one of her nearby chairs. “No problem.”

They talked about nothing then. Speaking about how their day went yesterday, and what they were going to be up to today. She kept a notebook, to remind herself of things, like how she needed to go to the store. She was out of tea. And food, he pointed out, and briefly made a light-hearted threat about letting Libertus host another get-together. The thought of the chaos from the last time made her laugh. If he got a laugh or two out of her, it was a win in his book. By the time he needed to leave, she seemed a little more grounded than before.

He got up and walked over to the door. She followed him, just to see him out, though she didn’t know why. Perhaps because it was polite?

But then, she didn’t think to hard about it, and stated, “Thanks for coming over.”

In truth, she meant thanks for looking out for her. There had been others looking out for her, she thinks, at one point in time. But they were forgotten, leaving only hollow spots in her memory of where they used to be.

“No problem.” He gave her a smile, knowing what she meant. Honestly, she helped him just as much. A thought occurred to him then, and not for the first time. It was a question he hoped would have a different answer each time he asked.

“Are you ever going to tell us your name?” Nyx asked before he went through the door.

She shot him a small, but so very tired, smile, “I’m not sure what it is myself most days.”

He huffed then, in amusement or worry he wasn’t sure, and left.

~

She stood in the storm, looking up at the sky while lightning flashed overhead. Transfixed by the sight, she didn’t notice a group of people wandering in the storm as well.

“She’s over here!” Someone called, but she didn’t connect it to herself until an umbrella obscured her view of the sky, and a jacket was placed around her shoulders.

“Heathen or healer?” She asked.

She looked them all in the eye, and it unsettled them. They were unsure of how to handle her. She was getting worse as time went on. But better as well. Livelier. It was a strange balance. Sometimes, she was near normal. Other times, they worried she’d disappear. Wandering away from her home how she did was becoming common place. She didn’t even have her shoes on.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Crowe said, placing her shoes on the ground and helping her step into them. She, in turn, placed a hand on Crowe’s arm to balance. Sometimes it helped to talk to her. Helped her find her way back from where ever she got lost.

“My name. It means either heathen or healer, and I can’t remember which one is right.” She looked at Crowe in the eye then, and a chill went down her spine.

Her eyes, while normally brown, seemed black in the storm. Empty, but ageless. A void. It made Crowe’s breath catch, and it felt like the world went still.

With a surprising amount of lucidity, she said, “When someone asks you to leave the city, without anyone else, Don’t Go.”

Her heart beat echoed at the last two words, a resounding thud that made the world feel like it was reverberating around her. A compulsion to agree over came her, but she shook her head then, and got back on track.

“Sometimes you don’t make sense.”

The moment was over as soon as she spoke. With too bright of eyes, she turned away to look into the night and replied, “Does anyone?”

~

Storm touched, the elders called her. Those that were left anyways. They were rare people who had strange unseen gifts around them. There were others in some of the groups of refugees, when they came to the city. But most were lost to the transition to city life, labeled as mentally ill by Insomnian doctors. But by their traditions, they had been people who spoke to the storms and the storm answered. There was risk to them though. Their gift was dangerous if they weren’t careful with it.

She would think on what she was told, being one of the last that they’d found, and try to reach for memories that were disjointed, out of order, or simply weren’t hers. It would make her dizzy if she thought too hard about it. Everything became confusing around her, and sometimes, her heartbeat felt so slow in her chest that she would wonder if she could stop it’s beating with a thought. Trying to reach for the past was difficult no matter what she did.

It made her wonder at what she did to have lost so much.

She gave up when her head started hurting, a sign she knew well by now, and spoke out loud as she put on a kettle of water for tea, “A storm is coming.”

“Is that right?” Libertus, she hadn’t realized he was there, said. She’d opened the door for him, now that she thought about it.

“My head hurts.” She replied, “Doesn’t your leg?”

His face twisted at her words in confusion. “Why would my leg hurt?”

She turned to look at him, the answer on the tip of her tongue, but as soon as she saw his leg, normal and healthy, it was gone. Vanished. She frowned and then turned back to the stove.

“Why indeed.”

It was one of those memories, she thought. She remembered him hurting his leg but couldn’t place it. Though it was obscured to her when she thought about it. Hazy. After images of a things that hadn’t and had happened, she understood. But it didn’t make sense to her. But also, considering Libertus hadn’t hurt his leg at all, she didn’t know what to think. Another imagined memory perhaps.

Perhaps.

“You alright?” He asked when she turned back to the kettle.

“I think so.” She said, “I might have gotten confused again.”

“Just let us know if you think it’s going to get worse, alright?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he watched her.

“I will,” she promised. It was what worked for them all, now that she had a somewhat stable pattern in her life. Though, she didn’t like relying on them so much, they had managed to tether her to the here and now. She didn’t know what she’d do without them when they were gone.

Why would they be gone?

She put it out of her mind to think on later, and went back to making tea.

[smilingheroes]

Hi there admin smiles!! :) I just submitted a love letter / confession to you and I hope you liked it! I would love it if you gave me a confession from the blasty boy himself, Bakugou Katsuki, where he confesses his feelings to me first. It's pretty late in my time zone and honestly I'm too tired to write up an about me thing but I think you still have my description i wrote for my match up so if you could use that for reference that would be amazing... thank you so much i'm so excited!!

AAAA  thank you so much!!  THAT WAS SO SWEET!! Here you go!! I hope this is alright!! aaa//// Im nervous!!! >////

He was pacing–more like stomping. Snarling. Literally seething. Well, more than usual at least. His palms were sparking here and there, his adrenaline seemingly endless in this moment. As the students flowed out from class, they instinctually distanced themselves from his vicinity near the school gates.

His eyes were glaring–burning holes into the ground. No one cared to ask what was up–after all, it WAS Katsuki–he was probably just…being himself. But maybe they didn’t notice just how outwardly and maybe even more of himself he was being–like the kind of Boom boy that you’d see fired up in a literal BATTLE.

Well maybe it was. Kind of. Something of internal struggle? The kind of feeling that he didn’t really understand. The kind of feeling he had for someone else–and it was just so FRUSTRATING. Because he didn’t WANT to feel this way. Not for anyone. Especially not another hero wannabe like you. Like everyone.

Or well. You should have been just that. Like everyone else. A pebble on the side of the road. Someone he could pass by without a second thought–but that was the problem. You absolutely weren’t.

You’re fiery. You’re strong. You don’t let anyone get the best of you–not even Katsuki himself. And even after all of that, you’re able to smile so warmly at him…and he HATED that. He hated the way your lips looked so soft–and how your eyes could be so sharp and scathing–and yet share a world he could get lost in. He LOATHED every last detail.

With his frustrations rising, the blond found himself nearly ready to strike the match of his palm against the nearest structure–or person–he was honestly, in this moment, he’s starting to have trouble caring.

Like a lit fuse, you’re quick to burn him out with a single pinch of your fingers.

“WHAT THE FUCK!?” He snarls, snapping from his thoughts–and altogether, he finds himself face to face with those eyes again.

“jeez, calm down” You retort, words escaping between the chewing gum in your mouth. You knew better than to go into this meeting unarmed–and you were well prepared to put his fire out if you needed to.

Your quirk of course, being that you could control elements based on the color of food you ate. Because of this, you always had a selection of gum on you–ready for any occasion. including a private invitation to meet with U.A.’s most explosive hero-in-training just outside the school gates.

“You’re the one that told me to come out here, y'know..” You state, crossing your arms absently, “So what did you want, anyway?” You question.

It was weird for Bakugou to stay this idle–and yet he was just standing there–his face turned away from you–a vague scowl still painted across his features–and yet, he was being a lot less vocal about his anger.

And then, suddenly he snaps his attention towards you. Those red eyes seemingly radiating with their own kind of heat.

“You think you’re so fucking smart, huh? Making me feel like a fucking idiot?!” He spits, balling his fists in a way that made you pull up your guard a bit. But then, they fall to his side, tense but harmless.

“You…” He seems to hiss, “JUST BECAUSE I LIKE YOU DOESN’T MEAN I’LL LOSE TO YOU! YOU GOT THAT?!”

You seem dumbfounded for a moment, taking a little time to process his words clearly–wait did he say……like??

Before you can even get another word in, Katsuki is stomping off. “Meet me at that one stupid cafe you keep babbling about if you want to, I don’t give a shit.” He huffs–of course he had no doubts you would be there. But maybe he was still compensating just a little in the tiniest chance you didn’t start to follow him.

Which you did of course. If only just to tease him a little for the outright confession–which he would no doubt get just as frustrated over–trying to hide the feeling of fluster heating his face behind the usual anger.

But you always knew him too well–and maybe that stroked your ego just a little~

(THESE ARE STILL OPEN FOR A LITTLE BIT LONGER!!) 

[fetishmael]

not shitposty for once

Summary: it starts fluffy then it bcomes shitty and bad at the end sorry rated hIGH T for Bad Implications basically 3 times executor stopped lowa from crying and the 1 time it happened in reverse (it would have been a five times fic but im lazy SORRY)

Pairings: LWLE and APLE wowwz

“Don’t cry.”

Executor brushes past Wanderer, sparing him little more than a glance as he forms a perfectly made spear in his hands, creation magic shining at his fingertips. His visible eye hardens in determination, his pose filled with confidence, so unlike Wanderer’s own as he stares down the demons in front of them.

“I’m--I’m sorry--!”  As he swipes furiously at the tears on his cheeks, he wishes, more than anything, that he could be like Executor, free of doubt, of anxiety, of nervousness, and made only up of a single minded determination towards the mission. Ishmael’s power radiates off of the other celestial in waves, holy energy crackling through the air, temporarily suppressing his own decaying purity.

Executor merely looks down at him, where he’s half-curled upon the floor, clutching his bandaged hand pathetically to his chest before turning away, the ends of his coat flaring with the motion and trailing after him as he dashes into the mob of monsters, decimating them with systematic precision. Shards of broken light reform and unmake themselves into infinite weapons, dissipating into nothingness once their purpose is served and the demons lay lifelessly upon the ground.

That was how Executor always did things--neatly, quickly, and without ever leaving any loose ends.

The celestial frowns down at him, the white in his hair and skin fading to human colors and his feet fully touching the ground once more. “What are you still doing on the floor, Wanderer? Is it a comfortable place to nap?”

Executor wipes his bloodied gloved hand on his coat in disgust before tentatively offering out to Wanderer, his gaze focused determinedly elsewhere. “Yes, my hand is filthy, but no more than your own, so take it.”

“Um, yes! Of course--thank you!” Wanderer had long grown used to Executor’s unusual way of pairing his help with his biting insults and puts his hand in the other’s, using it as support as he stands on shaky legs. “I mean, no, it’s not a good place to nap, but, I wasn’t exactly napping there, I just…”

Executor waves his hand, hauling Wanderer to his feet. “I understand--no need to continue on with senseless explanation. Still..you shouldn’t have run off like that Wanderer. Look where that got you. I know you only have one eye to use properly now, but you can’t possibly mean to tell me that you did not see a rather large pack of demons right in front of you. Or that you didn’t expect to run into any here, in Feita, the demon infested country.”

“N-no, but...I just...I wanted to test my strength, that’s all!” He fiddles with the bandages on his corrupted hand, avoiding Executor’s probably furious gaze. It wasn’t as if he had meant to get into so much trouble, he was just so tired of Executor always having to come save him, of being unable to control his own power well enough to fight like he used to. “I just...wanted to be useful.”

“Well, you weren’t,” Executor states bluntly, before his face softens into an expression of gentle exasperation. He runs his fingers through the bangs over his eye, a nervous tick that Wanderer didn’t think Executor even knew was there. “I mean..just...haven’t you learned that you don’t need to do everything alone? You don’t need to journey alone, you don’t need to fight alone--you aren’t alone. I’m here for a reason, aren’t I?”

“And what...what exactly is that reason, Executor?” Wanderer is almost afraid to ask, because thinks he might know the answer. But he has to know. The other celestial had found him, praying fervently, uselessly at Ishmael’s shrine, begging for her to respond, to do anything to convince him that she was still watching over him. When Executor had stepped out from the shadows, a dim glow of holy light emanating from his presence, he’d thought Ishmael had sent him as her sign. But that hadn’t been it, according to Executor--he was supposedly doing this out of his own free will rather than out of duty to the Goddess, and Wanderer couldn’t understand why.

“We’ve--we’ve been at this for months, and the Goddess still hasn’t responded to me, and the corruption just keeps spreading, and I know you still have your own mission to restore the El, so why do you keep helping me? Why do keep wasting your time on me?”

Executor turns his eyes upwards, before exhaling loudly, moving closer to Wanderer and using a too-long sleeve to wipe away the tears that Wanderer hadn’t realized were there. “And why do you keep wasting your time on this kind of talk? What, am I such an evil being to you that the idea of me helping you because I want to help you is completely inconceivable? I’m helping you because, well--I mean, because you look really pathetic, and it’s hard to ignore you with those stupidly watery eyes of yours--you know, this discussion is getting kind of weird.”

Executor removes his hand from Wanderer’s face and Wanderer finds himself missing the warmth as the other celestial folds his arms. “Look, the point is, you’re stuck with me and I’m stuck with you, and that’s that. So stop crying about it already, okay? That’s...the last thing I want to see you do. Now, come on--I’m covered in demon blood and it’s starting to stick and become disgusting. I want to wash it off.”

The other doesn’t wait for his response before walking away a bit more quickly than usual, a suspiciously pink tinge coloring the back of his neck and ears. Wanderer stands still for a long moment, blinking at the celestial’s back, a strange feeling of lightness filling the bottom of his stomach.

“W-Wait for me, Executor!”

Wanderer stares at his reflection in the lake, distorted by the ripples in the water, but clear enough for him to see just how far gone he really was. His eye is disgusting, a mess of tainted, dull green colors, the skin on and around the eyelid stained with Henir’s mark, and he’s learned from experience that no matter how hard he scrubs at it, even until his fingernails bleed, it won’t go away.

“The water isn’t that nice to look at, is it?”

Executor stands behind him, a roll of fresh bandages in his hands.

“It’s for you, yeah,” Executor hesitates before taking a seat on the grass beside him. “I mean, I can heal whatever wounds the both of us get with Ishmael’s power, so...it’s not like this is for my paper cuts. Also, if I fall into this water, I am blaming you.”

Wanderer doesn’t know exactly what to say to that, so he simply bites his lip, planning to turn his attention back to his grotesque appearance, but grabs the back of his hood, stopping him in his tracks.

“You’ve been paying a lot of attention to that eye, and...it’s distracting! For you! Not for me, of course. So, I thought...if you don’t have to look at it, you might not think about it as much, right?” Executor holds up the bandages, his expression unusually unsure. “Because, well..you already have those bandages on your hand, and it would be weird if you covered up your eye with your hair, because then you’d look like me, and then...just--do you want it, or not?”

Wanderer is surprised that Executor noticed at all his recent obsession with his corrupted eye--either the celestial paid more attention to him than he had thought, or Wanderer was just far too obvious. He smiles gratefully at Executor, his good eye shining in gratitude, and the other shifts his gaze away, tugging at the loose strands of hair that frame the side of his face.

He reaches for the bandages, but Executor pulls away.

“No--I mean--you’d just mess it up--I mean….just...let me do it, okay! It’s easier...and it’s probably hard to see yourself clearly in that water anyway, what with the way it keeps moving and all…unless you really want to do it yourself, that’s okay, too, I guess..”

Wanderer retracts his hand, moving closer to Executor, who makes some kind of strangled duck noise in his throat but doesn’t move away, busying himself with unwrapping the bandages. “I’m sure that you’ll do a better job than I will, Executor. So...if--if you really don’t mind! I’d...like you to do it.”

Executor is mostly silent as he works, only speaking to instruct Wanderer to turn his head which ever way as he  gently wraps the bandages around the left side of Wanderer’s face, and constantly checks Wanderer’s expression for any sign of pain. He arranges the bandages neatly before tying off the ends and snipping off the part attached to the rest of the roll.

“We’ll probably have to replace them every so often, so you’re going to have to look at your eye occasionally, but...it might be better, this way. At least you’re not going to be focused on your reflection every time we stop by anything that could even remotely be considered as a mirror.”

Wanderer carefully reaches up to prod gently at the bandages around his eye, the slight weight of the soft linen around his face somehow comforting. It was certainly better than walking around knowing that his corrupted eye was exposed to the entire world.

“So? How is it?” Executor looks almost nervous as he shifts before him, his hands fluttering over the grass as if looking for something to keep busy with as he waits for a reply, and if Wanderer didn’t know any better, he’d think that Executor was almost afraid of his response.

Wanderer blinks, leaning over the water again to look at himself and it’s almost strange not to feel the familiar twinge of disgust in his stomach as he sees his own reflection.

“It’s--It’s good! I mean...really--I like this...a lot better than it was before.”

Executor huffs softly, picking himself up off of the ground and dusting the bits of grass stuck to his coat away. “It’s...It’s not such a big deal! And don’t stare at it for so long, either; the whole point of me doing this was so that you wouldn’t spend all your time looking at yourself! A-Anyway, it’s just a few pieces of cloth on your face! Don’t get so happy about it…”

Wanderer smiles anyway, something within him enjoying the way it causes Executor to turn away, rubbing at the back of his neck in embarrassment. For all his qualities, the other celestial was really quite terrible at receiving praise.

“Thank you, Executor,” he says again, loudly enough for Executor to hear, but softly enough so that he could pretend like he hadn’t heard it and continue on without having to awkwardly fish for a response.

He trails after Executor as usual, leaving his tainted reflection in the lake behind him, and looks forward to the day, some time in the future, that they can both return to this spot and watch the waters still.

Wanderer is, with increasing frequency, lost in his nightmares, dreaming of the cold face of a Goddess he can barely remember and of the seemingly endless void that tore his essence apart and marked him for eternity. He wakes with his heart in his throat and ice in his veins and remains coiled in terror, until Executor’s soft hands and tired voice arrive to return him to reality once more.

At least, that is how it should be.

When he awakens this time, caught between the thin boundary of waking consciousness and sleep, he lashes out against the presence near him, against the hands binding him and the words of sickly sweet promise of pain in his ears.

“Get away from me!” he shrieks, his fingertips burning with foreign power that belongs neither to him nor to Ishmael. His hand hits something soft and warm and very much not the invisible demons he’d thought he’d been fighting, and before he can stop himself or even attempt to reign his newfound power in, he hears a soft yelp of mingled pain and surprise as the source of the noise is launched away.

Executor.

Wanderer opens his eyes slowly, blinking the world into focus, one hand pressed fervently against his corrupted, pained eye.

Executor watches him warily, his expression unreadable in the dim light of their fire, one hand pressed to the wound at his neck. The wound that Wanderer had made, he had done that, to Executor, who had never done anything but try to help him. He covers his mouth, backing away from Executor, horror rising within him and an entirely different, more real kind of fear replacing the one induced by his nightmares.

“I’m sorry--I’m so, so sorry!”

Executor visibly relaxes, his guard dropping as Wanderer’s apology--meaningless as it is, since the damage had already been done--echoes through the clearing. He shakes his head, wincing as the motion disturbs his fresh injuries.

“Don’t be. I think I was a little too rough in waking you up, this time--it’s not your fault, Wanderer, so don’t go off and wallow in your virtual swamp of self-pity like I know you’re going to.” Executor’s voice is uncertain, lacking its usual bite, and it only serves to further unsettle Wanderer.

“But it is! It is my fault--how can you say that it isn’t when I’ve literally just hurt you?”

“Well--you weren’t thinking! You were half asleep, and besides...it won’t happen again, right?” It’s unlike Executor to be so unsure about something, and Wanderer knows that the other is lying, simply to make him feel better.

He doesn’t need it.

“I already hurt you, Executor, I’m already corrupt, I’m already getting more corrupt, and we both know where this is going!” Wanderer digs his fingers underneath the bandages at his eye and tugs them downwards, showing the terrible growth of Henir’s influence on him. “I’m...I’m losing, Executor...I…”

Neither of them exactly know what happens to those who lose themselves to corruption entirely, who stray from the path of the Goddess and never return, but Wanderer feels terribly, absolutely certain that he will find out for himself.

“Wanderer, you know I won’t let you become like that in the first place! You are staying with me, and we are going to find a way to help you, and--”

“No! That’s not enough!” Wanderer shakes his head furiously, clutching his hand, still covered in Executor’s blood, tightly to his chest. “You have to promise me, Executor, because you’re the only one who I can trust to do this! You’re the only one who’s strong enough! Please...promise me that you’ll kill me, if I’m beyond saving, if I lose myself completely to Henir’s power. I can’t...I would rather die, than hurt you again.”

He doesn’t want his life to end, exactly, and he definitely doesn’t want Executor to be the one to do it, but this is how it absolutely has to be. His hands tremble at their uncertain future and his stomach tightens nervously, but, strangely enough, his tears have stopped. Knowing that he’d have someone to take care of things if it all went wrong is almost a relief.

Executor is silent, dropping his gaze for only a moment, but when he looks back up, his eyes are filled with resolve.

It burns.

His eyes sting and his throat feels constricted and he hates this feeling with a passion, but he doesn’t know how to stop it. Executor rubs at the corners of his eyes with his free hand, his other hand preoccupied with holding the blade pointed at Wanderer’s--or whatever this thing was that Wanderer had become--neck.

The being makes a faintly amused sound, his corrupted fingers coming up to push the celestial weapon away, his expression shadowed by his overgrown bangs. “No, Executor. That’s not how it works, anymore.” His middle finger taps lightly against the cold blue and the sword shatters into nothingness.

Executor forcefully swallows the lump in his throat down, forcing himself to move backwards until he’s pressed against the wall, his heart fluttering rapidly in his chest.

“I promised, you, Wanderer--you made me promise. Don’t--don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

The things tilts its head, a smile tilting the corners of its mouth upwards. “Apostasia. I am Apostasia, now, and so, you have no more promises to keep to me. And I have nothing to promise to you. Such silly obligations mean nothing in the long run, anyway. Besides--would you actually do it, Executor?”

He can’t.

His creation magic sparks and dies at his fingers, unable or unwilling to deal the killing blow, and when he looks at Apostasia, all he can see is the Wanderer that used to need his help, that used to look up to him as a blessing, that used to want nothing more than to become pure once more. This was a different being, a different power altogether, but it was still Wanderer, in essence.

Apostasia suddenly crosses the distance between them in the blink of an eye and leans in closer, until their heads are almost pressed against each other, his corrupted fingers brushing against Executor’s cheek and cupping his face, tilting his head up. Executor shuts his eyes, but makes no other move to resist, his body growing pliant in Apostasia’s arms.

“You feel like her--Ishmael. You are her celestial, after all.” Apostasia’s hand trails down from his face, coming to rest over his too-quickly beating heart. “But I would like to think that you are mine, more than hers.”

He is, he always has been, ever since he’d found Wanderer crying over Ishmael’s shrine all that time--weeks, months, years?--ago and Wanderer had looked up at him with his stupid, helpless eyes, and Executor had slowly but surely found himself in love with him, the corrupted crybaby.

Apostasia’s lips brush against his ear and he shudders at the sensation, pressing himself more tightly against the other, his fingers curling into the fabric of Apostasia’s thin clothing.

“Yes,” he barely manages to whisper in response to Apostasia’s unspoken question, all of the words that need to be said and everything else in between somehow condensed into that single agreement.

It feels oddly like drowning, somehow--his hands flutter uselessly against Apostasia’s back and his lungs burn for air that he does not need and it feels like too much of nothing and everything all at once. Apostasia is unusually gentle with him, holding him as if he’s made from glass that might shatter if handled too roughly, his lips moving from Executor’s own to the tears on Executor’s cheeks.

“Oh, Executor,” Apostasia murmurs into his neck as he claims him in a way that neither Ishmael nor Henir ever could.

“Don’t cry.”