#drew this ages ago and figured today was a good day to share

[cutestkilla]

POV: You're a demon, or a giant, or a fairy, or a merperson, or literally anyone, anywhere, any time being waved and smiled at by Shepard Love, from Omaha, Nebraska.

Everyone wave to Shep, it's his birthday. 🎂

[impval]

i found love

Victoria Neuman x fem! reader soulmate au

Everyone had different bonds. Some shared pain or emotions. Some even simply had timers, counting down to the moment when they'd first glimpse into the eyes of the person they were meant to be with.

The movements and subtle pulls of the thread, the little tugs and twists, were a constant in her life. She found herself often idly touching the red thread that no one else could see, and wondering where it led to… and who was on the other end, connected to her.

Orphaned at a young age, adopted and learn quickly to survive - it had shaped Victoria. So, she decided that soulmate were just an unnecessary risk. A liability. No soulmate, and no messy emotions or attachments involved. She didn't need one.

No, it was better not to think about it. Better to simply ignore it, ignore the thread that seemed to itch and burn with every passing year. Victoria had always had a plan, a goal, something to work towards. She simply couldn’t afford to have her whole life thrown into chaos simply because there was a chance that her soulmate could somehow... complete her.

Work was the closest thing she had to a lover, to a companion. She'd had fleeting relationships over the years, casual things, but she never let any of them grow into something more.

Victoria didn't really think much of the patterns, at first. Just a curious observation that slowly started to nag on her mind, and which she'd occasionally think about when she got the time to do so. The subtle tugging and pulling throughout the day... there was a distinct rhythm to it that only made sense if the person on the other end were in a similar time zone.

It was just another day.

Wake up, get some coffee, get to work, deal with reports, lunch time if she lucky, reports, meetings, and more reports, and then home. It was a routine she was used to - something that was familiar, something that made at least part of her life predictable.

But it took a few hours, embarrassingly long, for Victoria to realize that something was off. Her soulmate always moved during lunch, sometimes stopping before it started again, as though her soulmate was checking their phone or something...They weren't moving today. Why?

It could very well be that her soulmate had simply forgotten to eat lunch - a trivial and harmless explanation for her uncharacteristically still thread, that lay motionless, red against her arm. Or it could also be something worse. Were they ill? Were they... dead?

No. If the fucking thread was there, obviously her soulmate was alive. Obviously. It stupid to be so worried about a thread, she kept telling herself. But then lunch break passed, then the hour... and then another. The thread still did not move.

Her mood began to sour as the evening drew on. Sitting alone in the safety and secrecy of her home, with glass of whiskey in hand, Victoria let her eyes settle on the thread.

Just... sick, she told herself. Perhaps she was worrying over nothing. Perhaps they'd just come down with a cold or something. There was no reason to worry.

Victoria had her hands full - between dealing with supes, potential terrorist threats, and the occasional meeting with other government officials, the days had been busy and exhausting. Every time she had looked at the thread in the last couple days, the movements had gotten better... but they were still somehow off. It was still concerning, and she still couldn't quite figure out exactly why she was worried.

The incident had happened almost a week ago, the usual supe bullshit...Apparently, some supe had gotten drunk, used his powers to destroy the entire club, and injured several people. The only reason this accident was even in the news was because the supe involved was a relatively well-known hero. Otherwise, these kinds of cases tended to be ignored by the media.

The survivors were now in the hospital and, well, it was good PR, public image was key.

Victoria knew the drill - pay sympathy, try to look as earnest and as concerned as possible. It wasn't even that much of a problem - she did care about the people affected - it was just exhausting, pretending to care more about it than she actually did.

The folder her assistant had handed to her had detailed information. Nothing more than routine - she always prepared for any and all situations. Her gaze lingered for a moment, longer than it had for any of the other names on the list of patients: the last one, your name.

People hurried back and forth, the beeping of machines and the smell of antiseptic pervaded the air. Hospitals had always made Victoria feel uncomfortable.

She walked through the hospital, nodding and making sympathetic noises and reassuring people, reassuring herself that she was doing a good work. Most of the victims had suffered relatively minor injuries - a few broken wrists, concussions, a lost eye... it could have been much, much worse.

The thread was shortening with each person she met, and she'd be lying if she said that she didn't notice - but she pushed it to the back of her mind, tried to focus on what was said instead.

And then...

This was the last stop, the last patient. With blank eyes, Victoria stared down at the red thread, and let out a deep, almost exhausted sigh.

She'd almost made a choice to not even stop by your room. That would be the smart thing to do, the practical thing, the one that would save her from a lot of heartache.

The conversation with her assistant was brief, and in a moment she was alone, standing in front of the door to your room.

Victoria told herself it didn't matter, that it wasn't important. She'd made it this far in life without ever considering finding a soulmate - why worry about them now? But the red thread was pulsating, beckoning her towards.

But there was that other part of her, the part that was curious about what it would be like, the part that was lonely, that wanted to know.

She took a deep breath, and opened the door.

Some swore that the moment they saw their soulmate, the world suddenly made sense - became beautiful. Others claimed that it was no different than meeting anyone else, just... less complicated. For all the research and discussion, no one agreed of what it was like.

The room was quiet, only a low beep from the heart monitor - you were laying in the bed, attached to an IV, a visible scratches and dark bruises across your body.

You looked familiar to her, your face and your eyes - and Victoria recognized you, even though she had never seen you before. Familiar. Warmth and comfort. The feeling of being known... understood, even without knowing this person. She could have gone her entire life without feeling that, and yet here it was anyway.

"Hello," your voice was so soft, so soft that Victoria almost didn't hear it.

Your face, oh my god, so beautiful, had a big smile on it - you weren't smiling with your teeth, as if you were embarrassed for some reason (braces perhaps?). Fuck, how was it possible that you looked cute, even though you were currently in the goddamned hospital?

"Hello," she said, equally quietly, taking a few steps closer.

A week ago, she had been completely sure that a soulmate did not matter to her. And now, the stupid part of her brain was screaming that she wanted to hold your hand, run her fingers gently over your skin...

There was nothing particularly special about your appearance, Victoria admitted to herself, and yet... she couldn't help but look at you - so beautiful, so familiar, so perfect.

Well, Victoria has always been adaptable.

You cleared your throat awkwardly. "I've seen you on TV. Victoria, right?"

She snapped herself out of her thoughts, clearing her own throat and willing (and failing) to clear her mind of all the new, confusing, and unfamiliar (yet welcome) thoughts and feelings.

"Yeah… that's correct," Victoria nodded, trying to get a hold of the swirling thoughts in her mind.

She spoke your name and god, it was beautiful to hear, it was like...

No, focus.

You slowly lifted yourself to sit on the bed, the movement looking like it took a bit of effort and clearly put you in some amount of pain - and she had to suppress the instinctive urge to offer help.

"And here I thought the nurses were joking about a politician coming to the hospital. To be honest, I expected an old white man."

Despite everything, she let out a quiet laugh. It sounded shaky even to her own ears, but she was too focused on watching you to really pay attention to it.

"I always get comments about me being the wrong age and gender for a politician," she replied with a small, easy smile - or at least that was what she tried to portray.

You'd dreamed of this moment. Imagined meeting your soulmate, had probably thought of this moment so many times, over and over. And then it happens, and you meet your damn soulmate — and it turns out to be a fucking politician. To make things even better, one who was famously anti-supe and you were currently in the damn hospital because of a supe attack.

"How... are you feeling?" she asked, her voice softer with the question. "Your injuries, I mean."

There was a sudden feeling of guilt as she looked at you, and she pushed it aside quickly - she could worry about the implications and consequences of her secret identity later when she was alone.

The thread seemed to vibrate as Victoria took another step closer.

You let out a small huff, and shrugged slightly in response, before grimacing in pain. "Like I was hit by a truck," you stated dryly. "But the doctors say I will be fine. And the painkillers helps."

Her eyes darkened at the thought of someone hurting you like this, injuring you so badly that you were in a hospital. Whoever did this was going to face consequences. Not now, of course - she was going to wait.

For now... Victoria took another step forward. Her eyes glanced down at the way you wrapped the thread around your hand, and she almost - almost - reached out to imitate the action herself.

But she didn't - her hands, instead, gripped the metal rail of the bed, her knuckles turning white from the force of the grip. So many questions entered her mind, all at once. She had no idea how long you'd be in hospital, who came to see you, how your recovery process would be going - the list was endless.

"When will you be discharged?"

"Sometime next week, apparently. My injuries are... non-life threatening. Mostly just..." you gestured to the scratches and bruises on your arms and face. "Well. I'm lucky."

You were blushing under her gaze and she noticed, a small part of her preening with satisfaction at the idea that her mere presence was enough to make you blush.

"Do you have family, or someone else who could look after you?"

a partner?

The mere thought that you might be with someone else, with someone other than her, was just wrong. It was just wrong. Victoria had no right to think that way, and she knew it - she'd only just met you, for god’s sake.

But she felt it, she couldn't help it.

Victoria couldn't help but noticed - no flowers, no "get well" balloons, nothing at all that might have indicated visitors.

"No," you shook your head. "My friends are currently in Spain and my family... we don't talk anymore."

Wait.

So who the hell was taking care of you while you were in the hospital? No one? She was your soulmate. You were hers, and it just felt wrong to leave you in your current condition, with no one to take care of you…

Hers. The word echoed through Victoria mind, over and over again, her soulmate, her responsibility, her to protect, to take care of -

"That won't do," She found herself saying before she realized it.

- and Victoria had always held a sense of possessiveness over the things she considered hers. In this case, she would have no compunctions about using her power and influence to guarantee your safety, to make sure you would be looked after.

But you tried to brush it off, of course you did - yet all she could focus on was the fact that no, you weren't going to be alone while you were recovering.

As her hand touched yours, you immediately went silent. The thread wraps around connected hands, and Victoria found herself thinking that the red looked nice on you.

And that's how Victoria was suddenly having a crash course in learning how to be a doting soulmate.

Funny, but she would have never, in a million years assumed she'd be acting so... obsessive over her soulmate, and yet here she was, finding out information that she felt the compulsive need to know.

How were your injuries healing? Had you been prescribed enough painkillers? Were you comfortable? She learned your medical history, for god's sake.

Victoria visited you at every spare moment she had, taking time out of her schedule just to see you. It was pathetic, in a way, how quickly her entire world seemed to revolve around you, the person she'd just met.

She had flowers brought to your room, balloons, even a stupid teddy bear, all while her logical thinking was telling her that this was all just too fast and too much. But the fact that you were alone, without family or friends, drove her to the point of near-aggression, and Victoria wanted to shower you with so much attention you would hardly be able to breathe.

You blushed and stuttered as you told your friends on the phone about all of this. They were surprised, of course, who wouldn't be surprised and a little freaked out, but there was also genuine excitement, and they were happy for you.

You'd always dreamed of having a soulmate, and now you had Victoria. Even her publicity and the fact that she was a politician didn't bother you as much as they probably should.

She was smart, and knew things before you even tried to say them. And once her mind was set on something, she was stubborn as hell, and you soon found that you were completely unable to resist her, especially when she looked at you with those big brown eyes.

You were staying with her when you were discharged. That wasn't up for discussion. She had already had a room cleaned out for you, had set it up to make sure everything was comfortable.

The thought that she'd be looking after you soon wasn't as intimidating as it should have been. Hell, you'd welcomed it.

Once you'd gathered your things from your home, she took you to her apartment, and you weren't surprised. It was definitely the sort of place Victoria would have. All things said that she was incredibly well-off, not shy about how much she spent in any way.

It was funny, the way she was acting right in front of your eyes. The way she doted on you, the way she made sure you were comfortable and happy, that nothing was missing - anything you wanted, she would get it for you.

Unfortunately, the reality was that she needed to work, and that required her to follow a certain schedule.

You adapted quickly, and she began to get used to the routine of having you around, the feeling far more comfortable than she'd expected. You soon learned that she loathed waking up early but did it anyway - and now sometimes you got up with her, even as she protested, cooking breakfast for her while she was in the shower.

Whenever she was at work, at yet another meeting, where she had to deal with the bullshit of idiots and incompetent employees, she would find herself missing you more than she thought she would.

Before, she'd always spent her evenings working, taking her documents home with her and continuing to work when she was in the comfort of her apartment - but now, that routine was changed.

Victoria found herself actually looking forward to coming home, because you were there, always happy to see her.

At first, you slept in the guest bedroom. It didn't take long for that situation to change, though - it was a nightmare that made it necessary. Anxiety and nightmares were hardly surprising - you had been attacked by a supe, after all. Your body recovered fairly well, thankfully, but your mind was another story.

And if that supe that hurt you somehow died in a mysterious, unexplainable accident, it was all just a coincidence.

If she was late coming home from work, claiming that she had suddenly had more important papers to work on, that was just a coincidence as well.

Coincidences happened all the time.

Victoria's bed was soft and comfortable, and it smelled like her. It was probably one of the best decisions she'd made, having you in bed with her. When you had nightmares and woke up sweaty and breathless, she could help you immediately, and she would often wake up to you clinging to her. She'd never admit it to anyone, but she liked seeing that.

You were hers, and even in your sleep, you were subconsciously seeking her out.

Soulmates didn't have to love each other romantically, it was true, and the relationship between soulmates could take a myriad of different forms.

But Victoria wasn't an idiot. She saw the same expression in your eyes, the same look that was most likely mirrored in hers. She wasn't the most romantic person, but some things were not hard to see. This was a romantic soulbond.

A month and then another passed, you were fully recovered now and yet neither of you even bothered to bring up the subject of you moving out. Why would you? You were soulmates, and moving in together was something that would happen anyway at some point - besides, Victoria clearly enjoyed having you there, and you had no objections either.

Not to mention, getting to see her in her suits every day was a pleasure.

Even for a couple that was going a bit fast, you were taking things slow in other aspects. Gentle touches, late-night conversations, the way you talked about the little things, all of it helped you learn each other, figure out habits and personality quirks.

You eventually introduced her to your friends, and Victoria, being the charming woman she was, didn't exactly struggle to win them over. They were quite amused that you moved in with her so quickly, cracking jokes about the lesbian stereotypes that you definitely seemed to be fitting right into.

The most difficult topic was Victoria's career. It was important to her - and unfortunately, that meant that she would have to figure out what she was going to do with you soon.

But you weren't certain whether you wanted people to know about your relationship with her, especially being a public figure and all that came with. And you were also aware that politicians had two options when it came to their soulmates. Politicians either hid their soulmates or they paraded them out like a trophy.

But the main concern on Victoria's mind was your safety.

She had loads of assholes who could be a problem, including those idiotic Hughie's friends, Homelander (she would end him if he dared to even look at you), her adopted father and whoever else decided to add themselves to the metaphorical list.

What you didn't know was that Victoria was protecting you already, using her connections to make sure you had a pair (or sometimes more) of watchful eyes on you when you went somewhere without her.

And while she held you in her arms and watched you sleeping, Victoria decided that it was perhaps time to thin that metaphorical list of threats with a very literal approach.

You had no idea about the violent thoughts that had invaded her mind, and she preferred to keep it that way, for now. To you, Victoria was just your lovely soulmate, who kissed you every morning before work. Someone who wore comfy, stretched-out sweaters around the house and read the newspapers while drinking coffee like a grandma. She was the one who smiled warmly every time you did something nice for her, and she responded by overly spoiling you with expensive gifts.

Part of Victoria felt guilty that she hadn't even considered telling you the truth about her powers. If you found out the truth, would you look at her differently?

Would you see her differently knowing she was a supe too? Knowing that she'd killed more than once? That she would kill again without hesitation, if it meant saving you and her career?

Well, you didn't hate supes, but you were hurt by one of them before, and you were still having nightmares from the goddamn trauma. How would you possibly react when you found out that she was one too?

You were perfect in many ways. You were so considerate and patient, holding her tight while she ranted after a day of dealing with idiots at work, or giving her space when she needed to sort out her own anger.

As the protective one in the relationship, she was well aware that you were also strong in your own way, though not as obvious about it… but would it all be enough?

Victoria shoved those doubts and conflicting thoughts far out of her mind, to be dealt with another time, when she had time to sort through the mess of feelings.

For now, she had a career to build, and a wonderful - if completely oblivious - soulmate at home who she couldn't get enough of.

Coming home after work to find you there, waiting for her, the weekends now filled with you instead of work, laughter in the house and your smile, and...

Victoria would come home after work just to hear your voice and see your smile, feel your touch. Even on the really bad days, when her anger was still bubbling just beneath the surface, even when she was stressed.

This wasn't a life she'd ever thought she would have, but it was one she didn't want to give up for anything in the world.

[pogueswrld]

*•.¸♡ make up sex ♡¸.•*

pairing: fred weasley x fem!plus-sized!reader

summary: Freddie talks too much, and his girlfriend is exhausting all the ways she knows to shut him up. Softly, of course.

warnings: smut🦢!1!1!1!1! there's plot and fluff, and everyone's of age ofc, although it is hinted that reader is still in Hogwarts, kinda sub!Fred top!reader, like he's whining and panting and begging and shit (bites lip) ANYWAY, dick riding hehe, no usage of y/n.

note: it is 2:59 pm on a Friday, let's see how fast I write this shit. note 0.2: Okay so it's 5:54 pm on the same day, I think I'm done. This isn't edited, but it took me 3 hours to write 😁

He was still talking. Why, in the name of Merlin, was he still talking?

Dating Fed Weasley is fun, there's no denying that, but Good Heavens isn't that a boy a handful. Both literary and figurative. He's got a wide imagination, a never-squelching desire for knowledge, and a big heart. That is a dangerous combination for a somewhat intelligent and never-quiet man.

She's a saint, his girlfriend, and Ginny made a point to always express that to her. "How do you put up with that all the time?" Gesturing to Fred, who was using his hands in elaborate motions as he went on his fourth rant of the morning on the same subject to George. She'd only shrug, lips engulfing another spoonful of whatever ice cream the girls were sharing. "In one ear and out the other darling."

Not to say that she hates it, or that it bothers her- quite the opposite actually. Fred's excited and hyper personality is what made him so interesting to her, it was what drew her to him in the first place. She enjoys listening to him rant, even about the most random things -he stopped her the other day and explained in great detail how penguins mate and how once the female accepts the male's proposing gestures, they're together for life- and she adores it.

Yes, it sure can be a bit much at times, but she wouldn't change it for the world. Imagine loving a man who was as boring and dry as his older brother, Percy? She would have to jump out of Ginny's bedroom window!

Today was her first day back in the Burrow from Hogwarts for summer break, and she was exhausted, to say the least. She was up from dawn, finishing up the last bits of her packing before leaving for the train station with Harry, Hermione, and Ron. And because she's a good friend, she made sure each of her friends made it to their transportation safely before she and Ron were picked up by Fred and George.

In the car, Ron opened the untameable can of worms by mentioning Bill who was staying over at the Burrow for the summer as well, taking a couple of months' worth of vacation away from the dragons and such. That was the spark Fred needed to blast off into a hundred rants one after the other.

He spoke about seeing Bill again, which is understandable, he hasn't been home in years. He spoke about the dragons, which led to his excited mention of his favorites and how he's going to ask Bill how it was training them. Then he turned to Quidditch training, and even though both him and George had left Hogwarts a year or so ago, the both of them still found time to play the game as a side hobby. After that was all done, George gave her and Ron and update on the shop, and Fred went on and on about all kinds of new candies and flavors and combinations they were working on to add to the store by the beginning of next year.

She was understandably tired by the time the Burrow came into view. And as much as she adores her boyfriend, she needed him to shut the fuck up for twenty minutes. But he's so sweet, and his eyes light up when talking, and he gets this beautiful energy surrounding him when he does it that she doesn't have the nerve to ask him to be silent for a bit. So she excuses herself and tries to bury her body under the covers of his bed.

But he finds her there, and he reports to her that dinner is ready, and that Bill is here, and that she looks so gorgeous on his bed, and that there's a strange animal in the backyard, and that Ginny tried to curse the bathroom when he went in to use it, and that he doesn't understand why she'd do that, and that George is out in the garage, and that-

She jolts up on his bed, her eyes twitching as she stares at him. He looks so beautiful, but he's talking too damn much. She cups his face, and he goes silent and stares at her with wide eyes.

"Wha'?" He mumbled, his lips squished together as she squeezed his cheeks.

"You talk too much, ya' know that?" She said, her thumb slightly caressing the apples of his cheeks.

He opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water, and tilts his head ever so slightly. "Do' it bothe' yo'?"

She giggles breathlessly and lets go of his face before pressing her lips tightly against his. "Not all the time, but times like today..." She rests her forehead against his and sighs, "It can be a lot, and I need you to read the room and tone it down a little bit, d'ya think you can do that for me?"

He stares, something in his gaze changes, and he nods. "Of course, baby. Whateva' you want."

Great. Now she feels bad. She sighs and pushes past the blankets swallowing her to sit up on her knees. She wraps her arms around his shoulders and pulls him into a hug. "I love you, truly love you, and I don't mean to be mean to you, and you know I love it when you ramble, but I'm really overwhelmed today, darling. I'm sorry."

Fred wraps his arms around her waist in return, hugging her tightly. It's true that he can't always read the room, and now that he's no longer attending school he's got much more free time on his hands than he knows what to do with. It takes him a couple days to be able to read his girlfriend's body language like he used to once she's home from school, and he feels terrible that he was one of the reasons for making her feel so incredibly overwhelmed. He also feels slightly ashamed of his non-stop rambling all day.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, mumbling something into her skin that made her shiver and giggle away from him. "Stop," she breathes in a giggle, "It tickles."

He chuckles, his hands squeezing at the skin of her waist as he stares at her dreamily. "I said, I'm sorry I made you feel overwhelmed, I promise to try and do better."

She grins at him, so brilliantly, that he can't help but lean down and capture her lips in a soaring kiss. "I love you." He mumbles against her lips, and she smiles while trying to kiss him back. "C'mon now, love, let's go have dinner."

Her eyes darken; her pupils widen, and she smiles that mischievous grin that he adores so much, and he groans while throwing his head back. He knows exactly what is on her mind.

"I have a better idea." She whispers, giggling as she throws herself into his lap and kisses him with such force that she's pushing him down on his bed. He yelps, his hands traveling to the bed and her waist, holding on to her for stability. Bubbling heat travels across his body through her kiss, and he sighs when her cold fingertips trace down his arms, sending goosebumps across his body.

Her kisses transfer from his lips to the sides of his mouth, his cheeks, down his jawline, until she's pampering open-mouthed kisses across his neck like stardust.

He sighs, his eyes closed and his head thrown back on the pillow. "Please," He breathed, a low whine undertoning his voice. She shivers above him, her teeth grazing his skin in a teasing bite.

She's always hated the effect his voice has on her.

"Please what, darling?"

He whines. It's low, for her ears only, it's a barely-there breath, but his mouth is right next to her ear and she hears him loud and clear. Her panties dampen almost immediately.

"Please touch me," He whispers. His hands gripped tightly to her thighs. He knows better than to roam her body without permission. She pulls back slightly, blinking up at him with a soft smile and long lashes. "But I am touching you, Freddie."

He knows this game. This cruel, cruel game she adores to play. He whines in pretentious of hating his role, but his hips buck, and his cock twitches underneath the fabrics of his boxers and trousers.

He slowly traces one of his hands from her thighs to her palm before letting her fingers rest on his aching cock. He guides her hands to gently rub him through his clothes and he lets out a breath when her fingers squeeze around him. "Touch me there." He gasps.

She entertains him, allowing him to set the pace and buck into her hold. He releases deep breaths and low whines, stuttering moans every time she tightens her grip around him. She can feel herself getting wetter by the second, how his eyes are shut desperately, his teeth bite down on his bottom lip, and her name is gasped out of his throat with every other movement. It makes her feel powerful, it makes her entire being vibrate.

"That's enough." She mumbles, pulling her hand out of his grasp and bathing in his complaining whines as she pulls off her shirt. He blinks up at her, watching her boobs bounce in the push-up bra she's wearing before she unhooks it and slides it off her shoulders. He blinks again and swallows whatever drool and saliva has gathered in his mouth, causing his Adam's apple to pop along with the action. She smiles at the sight and quickly bends down to leave a swift kiss on it.

"Take off your shirt." She commands him, and he does so without hesitation, throwing the garment somewhere on the floor of the room he shares with his twin brother. He watches her hands intensely as she teases him by running her thumb on the inside of her trouser's elastic, before slowly pulling the item down and off. He groans at the sight of his favorite panties on her; a partially lacey red thong that settles up between her butt cheeks. She always told him how uncomfortable it made her, but the look on his face when he saw it on her made every second she spent wearing it worth it.

"You're trying to kill me, love?" He groans, daring himself to take a dangerous leap and push his thumb against the damp cloth, pushing down on where he knows her clit hides. He glances up at her, watching the way her lips part and her mouth hangs open at his action.

"And what am I to tell George when he asks? Death by a red thong?"

He grins up at her, picking up the speed at which he's rubbing on her bud of nerves. "Only if you're the one wearing it."

She shudders, forcefully holding herself back from grinding against his thumb. Instead, she grips his wrist and pushes it away from her. She hooks two fingers on each side of his trousers and boxers before meeting his eyes, watching as he licks his lips and nods before pulling the clothing items down his hips and legs.

His cock bounces out from underneath the fabric happily, it smacks against his lower abdomen and she giggles at the sight of precum beads rolling down his slit. He whines, throwing his arm on his face to cover the embarrassing blush that matched his hair color. "Don't laugh at me, why're you so mean to me today?"

Her giggle grows louder, and she leans down to push his arm off his face. "I never intend on being mean to you, my darling, you just bring it out of me. I'm sorry." She mumbles as she meets his gaze, her hand cupping one side of his face and he leans towards her touch. "Don't hide from me, yeah?"

He nods.

"Good boy."

He whines, his eyes squeeze shut and his jaw drops when her fingers wrap around him again, but her thumb is collecting his precum before spreading it down his length before she works a steady rhythm going up and down. His whines slowly turn into moans. His noises were so heavenly that she could swear her wetness was flowing through the fabric of her thong and onto the skin of her thighs.

She sees his muscles contracting and she stops, removing her hand from him altogether. He opens his eyes, blinking up at her in confusion as a noise of complaint slips out of his throat. But he swallows it back up when he sees her push her thong to the side and spread her folds before sitting on his length, and she grinds back and forth on him without actually allowing him access to her.

He groans, throwing his head back. She's coating him in her juices and there's a delicious squelching noise coming from between them and it's driving him insane. He sucks air into his lungs through clenched teeth and shudders when she allows a single moan to slip through her parted lips.

Suddenly, he's engulfed in her warmth and he hisses. His hands grip tightly to her thighs, hips, and any plump skin he can find. He squeezes her, hissing, and pants until he's sheathed completely inside of her. "Slow down," He gasps, "Slow- slow down, slow down, slow down." His voice turns from low breaths to almost high-pitched whines, and she leans down and captures his lips in a silencing kiss.

"Need you to lay here and keep your pretty mouth shut, darling, can you do that? Can you stay quiet for me so your family doesn't hear us fucking?" He whines, hips bucking into her warm cunt causing his eyes to roll to the back of his head as he nods mindlessly. "Yes, yes, yes. I'll be quiet. Fuck- please, baby, please fuck me."

She giggles at his desperate whines, and slowly rocks her hips back and forth, just enough movement to send pleasure jolts but not enough to get them going. She was testing the waters, trying to see how loud he could get without giving him much of anything.

Fred was losing his mind, he could feel her walls clamp down on him every time she moved back, and he could feel himself nudging against her feel-good spot every time she moved forward. Her wetness made a mess out of both of them, making it easy to slide into her and pick up the pace.

He arched his back slightly, just enough to hint at her to go faster. Because she was starting to feel frustrated, she obliged. She switched from grinding down on him to bouncing, her knees and hips working overtime to not make a noise every time her ass cheeks met his thighs.

She's now moaning, leaning down to muffle her noises by his neck or breathe them directly into his ear. Fred's eyes roll to the back of his head every time, and his hands grab onto the fat of her hips to help her.

"I-" She gasps, pushing herself upwards, clamping down on him tightly before forcing deep thrusts with her movement. "I'm gonna cum." She whimpers, and her legs begin to shake and fail her. Fred let out a loud breath that turned into a whimper before pushing himself up and, with a tight hold of her hips, forced her up and down his cock.

"Wa- wanna feel you. Wanna feel you gush around me. Give it to me, please." He whines, his words muffled into her temple, his eyes closed as her walls flutter around him, her body shivering against him and her lips part in long whines. One of his hands sneaked in between them, and his thumb drew quick circles around her clit, just enough to electrify her over the edge.

She freezes up, squeezes down on him and Fred is gone. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tightly down on him, the repeated squeeze of her walls stimulated him over the edge and they were shaking through their highs together. Her hands were buried in his hair, his hands holding onto her hips, while their lips interlocked in an overflowing kiss.

A few seconds later, their mouths parted as they gasped for air, holding onto one another as their highs dwindled. He traced random shapes on her bare back while she scratched at his scalp in a way she knew he loved.

He was the first to pull back, looking up at her with nothing but love and adoration. He tilts his head and grins, "Do you still want to go down for dinner?"

She laughs, heartily and loudly out of his arms and back onto the bed. "If you'll be going downstairs for a plate, get me one with you. There's no way I can look your mum in the eye after this."

[timemajesty]

So, today on November 5th, 10 years ago I made an OC for the game called Super Mario RPG. Ever since then, I've worked on him and poured so much love, sweat, tears, money and even blood into making this OC into what he is today. Not my typical type of post on here, but it's important for me to share just how much Erbin has grown as a character.

Erbin was originally created for the purposes of coping with a lot of awful things that happen in my childhood, but I never had resources or anything to draw him or get art of him, so until around 7 years ago he didn't even have any artwork to his name. I just always had so much written up pieces about him, all this information, all these little stories, and especially a lot of ship fanfics. I made him to ship with Geno, which I know is very basic nowadays, basically everyone ships an OC with Geno, but I don't care for being basic.

His first design, is awful I won't lie, I didn't know what I was doing as a character designer back then. Most of his much older art is so old, I cannot find any traces of the artists who drew a lot of them for me, so I apologize in advance for that.

Art was originally made by someone known as SweetRaccon on Amino.

Gawd, his old design. Back when he had pink hair, a much larger crown, no nose and no ears. He was also really slim back then, and also his story was a lot more different, and not good. I'll be honest and say, I kinda originally wrote him to be a projection of what my abusive ex was, a horrible person who didn't care about others if it meant getting what he wanted and I admit that I don't think that was healthy for me to do, and I've grown and I know now that projecting is okay but if you want an OC to be very much your own thing you probably shouldn't project too much onto them.

This was also the era of which I started becoming more serious with his character, adding more details into his story and giving him actual information, such as an age, a family, stuff like that.

Original art by my boyfriend.

Ah, his second design. It's still not the best but it was better. Back then I had figured out his height, some characteristics to his design and overall fixed some stuff; such as I gave him a nose and ears, and his hair wasn't completely pink, this was also around the same time that FNF was getting popular and everyone and their mothers kept comparing him to the mom from that game, to this day I will never understand that because I just don't see the similarities at all, other than the skin color.

This was probably the time in my life where I started to develop a lot of my bad writing habits, especially my habit of giving up when I feel like something I write isn't perfect; it's kinda an issue and still is to this day, and you can probably understand why I don't post him often because of that. What I will say though is that back then I had fleshed out his story to be less of just "haha he's my ex but as an OC" to "Oh, he's a very troubled and fascinating character who I changed up to not be an abuser." I'll be honest, I regret ever making him anything like my abuser.

Original art by Facade on Discord ( @toastee-roastee )

The current design, the current era.

This is when I started to develop more of his relationship with Geno, instead of Erbin being nothing but a flirty bastard with Geno; he's now someone who had to earn Geno's trust back after Geno had learned about Erbin's affiliation with the Smithy Gang. Which, let's talk about that, I don't talk about his lore enough. So here it is, the definitive and complete story of Erbin's backstory.

Once upon a time, there was a God and a Shadow Siren. They didn't love one another, the God knew he loved someone else but fate kept them apart and forced him to be with this Shadow Siren. When they decided to have a kid to keep the Gods' legacy in tact, they realized they didn't have the time or resources to care for a child. So this God, Culex, decided to give the child to a tyrant, none other than Smithy; who begrudgingly accepted Culex's request and took in baby Erbin, raising him as if he was one of the Smithy Gang members.

It didn't take long for Erbin to start being an annoyance around the Factory, he had known from a young age about how his father abandoned him which made him grow up as a troublemaker. After 30 years of suffering from abuse, burns and scars from machines, and constantly being yelled at...Erbin had enough, that's when Mario and his group of heroes destroyed Smithy, and that's when Erbin took that opportunity to steal Smithy's crown and escape the Weapons World, claiming an abandoned castle deep into the Forest Maze as his home.

It wasn't long before he met one of those heroes, Geno, who had been ordered to take care of any remaining Smithy Gang soldiers that lurked Mario's World, the rest is history.

More art from my boyfriend.

When I tell you this OC means everything to me, I mean it. He's been with me through it all, ever since the start of an abusive relationship with my ex all the way to today, where my life is a lot better and I have an amazing partner and an awesome friend group. To everyone who's been in this journey of helping me make Erbin the character he is today, thank you. You mean just as much as Erbin means to me, which is a lot. I wouldn't be here without this OC and I definitely wouldn't be who I am today without him, he brought me so many memories and I can't wait to make more with him. I may post more for him today, today is his special day.

Oh and it's election day so like, vote for Erbin lmao.

[kemakoshume]

Secrets Whispered in Writing — gojo x f!reader x geto

summary: Traveling through Edo-era Japan under the guard of two samurai—Satoru and Suguru—you find yourself in the mecca of art, music, and sex. You write your feelings down in your diary. Gojo and Getou are nosey.

· this is a samurai champloo!au based on episode 12 of the series. you don't need to watch the show to enjoy this but you should definitely watch it. it's amazing.

a/n: remember that samurai champloo fic i wrote for the lovely @cyancherub's "back from the dead" collab like... almost a year ago? lmao. well, i rewrote it, added a bunch to it, and made it satosugu x reader. so, here's that :) also posted on AO3. only the diary entries are in first-person; the rest of the fic isn't.

warnings: threesome (M/M/F), oral sex (f!receiving), double penetration.

❁ July 2nd — Sunny, then cloudy ❁

Gojo, Getou, and I landed in Edo for an extended mission today.

This is our fourth town and sixth month together. Things feel good.

I don’t have much to say about Edo except���wow. The people here are wild.

They make beautiful art with lacquers and textiles finer than silk.

The music feeds the soul and the food fuels carnal hunger.

They have sex without sexuality, and they have it in abundance.

Just between us, dear diary, the desire to throw myself into the debauchery of this town grows more and more with every hour we spend here.

What am I to do?

xx

❁ July 4th — Cloudy ❁

I met a prostitute in a bar today. She was very lovely.

She asked about my companions and how a country girl like me learned how to tend to two strong samurai.

I didn’t tell her that they aren’t technically samurai.

They’re just two bozos with a little training and nice reflexes that can wield swords.

But anyway… I also didn’t tell her that I don’t ‘tend’ to them.

I’m afraid to admit that I want to.

xx

❁ July 5th — Rainy, then foggy ❁

Today, I saw something that my eyes could’ve never imagined.

I’ve heard murmurs for ages that men here explore in ways that they don’t in the countryside. Today, I saw it.

Two men, out in the open inside our ryokan, making love like men do to women.

Now I can’t help but wonder if those two do the same when I’m not around.

If they’ve ever thought about it…

Hmph

xx

❁ July 7th — Rainy, with sun ❁

I saw that prostitute again.

She suggested that the boys and I go to a bathhouse.

We went, and I saw it again.

Two men, but this time with a woman—another worker.

All three of them, together. I didn’t know that was possible.

xx

❁ July 8th — Rainy ❁

I can’t stop picturing it.

The three of us, like those people in the bathhouse.

If it were possible.

xx

❁ July 10th — Warm, and wet ❁

A handsome man who paints portraits asked me on the street if he could draw me.

I said yes. He showed me his home, and he drew me nude.

He asked if I could touch myself… like the yuujo girls that sit in the shop windows do to attract customers.

I said yes. He drew that too.

My mind raced with thoughts of Suguru’s polished hands and Satoru’s slick tongue the entire time.

Fuck.

xx

❁ July 11th — Cloudy, with sunshine ❁

Things feel funny.

Getou held my waist today as he walked past me.

He and Gojo haven’t fought in two days.

Well, each other, at least.

They’ve fought plenty of other people.

Strange.

xx

❁ July 12th — Foggy ❁

We’ll only be in Edo for one more day.

I don’t want to leave.

The energy is infectious.

I’ve caught it like a disease.

xx

❁ July 13th — Sunny, but cool ❁

Gojo suggested we stay another night.

He conned a guy out of a home to stay in.

Getou and I said yes.

xx

❁ July 14th — Sunny ❁

I figured it out.

I know you two are reading these. Getou—give Gojo my regards.

And answer my questions ~

Cowards.

xx

“So, are you going to explain yourselves or just sit in silence all night?”

You looked down at the two men from your position at the head of your shared sleeping room, staring down at them sitting on the floor in front of you while you leaned on the homeowner’s large wooden desk. Satoru sat with his long legs crossed at the knees—his arms folded in a similar fashion across the lean muscle of his chest. Suguru did the same, though his large indigo blue haori sleeves hid his muscular arms, and his hands were interlaced in his lap—almost like he was meditating. Their faces housed similar scowls, though Gojo’s was characteristically indignant while Getou looked typically temperate.

For a moment, the room was vacant of your voices. The only sound that was audible between the firm wooden walls was your breathing—heavy against the weight of your breasts beneath the lining of your delicate yukata. The mid-summer warmth bled into the air, making all three of you bead lightly with a thin sheen of sweat.

“Well?” you said, your tone insistent as the sound of cicadas nestled in the trees grew louder from outside the ryokan.

Gojo huffed, shaking out the pleasantly clean—for once—mop of wavey white curls on top of his head.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve calling us cowards when you were busy hiding your feelings in your diary,” he said, his voice gruff as he moved his line of sight from the floor and fixed it on you. “Yeah, we read your stupid diary! Shouldn’t leave shit lying around if you don’t want anyone to see.”

A deep inhale of air filled your lungs, only for it to be expelled twice as fast. “Satoru,” you said, your eyes pointed and glaring at the wild-haired man, “that was one of my personal things. I don’t touch your swords, so why would you touch my diary? It’s basically the same thing!”

He scoffed, something akin to a laugh bubbling in his throat. “Do you protect us with that journal, princess? Can that journal cut your cute little fingers off if you wield it wrong? Hm?”

You huffed, sputtering out rushing words to negate the man’s sentiments. Though, as even Getou breathed out a chuckle, you knew your protests fell on two sets of deaf ears.

“So, no then?” Gojo said, cocking his full lips into a lazy smile. “Hear that, Suguru? She thinks her diary is the same thing as a sword.”

Your foot hit the floor with a dull thud as you stomped one down in petulant irritation. “That’s not what I said! And, anyway, it’s still my thing. My private thing. You had no right to read it!”

Satoru adjusted his body, sitting so that his right leg was still crossed, but now his left was propped up—making the already lanky man look even larger as he spread out his limbs.

“I didn’t read anything,” he said, feigning innocence—as the man was notably illiterate. “But, you can’t stand here and play the dumb card with us, princess. You say you didn’t want us to see, but you left the thing on my side of the room—and you know I’m nosey. And you left it here unattended, out in the open, knowing that Getou here can read. For something you’re so protective of, you sure do a lousy job at keeping it hidden. Unless—”

“She wanted us to read it, as proven obvious by the last submission in the journal,” Suguru said, lifting his gaze to look up at you as well. “And your incessant desire to know our thoughts about the ill-kept secrets you filled the pages with.”

Despite your higher position, being the one standing, suddenly you felt small in front of the two men. Getou—the stoic man with long black hair and piercing eyes, with dewy milk-white skin unwithered despite your days in the sun, and Gojo—the other man sworn to protect you on your journey, with untamed hair and tan skin—facial hair that added a more masculine edge to his thinner physique, and a tongue as quick as the draw of his sword.

The two couldn’t have been more different in most ways. Suguru was refined; Satoru was a menace. Yet somehow, despite the difference in their dispositions, in moments like this, they couldn’t have felt more similar. When they were toying with you with their words, passing you back and forth to be teased and taunted in that way you begrudgingly enjoyed, their similarities shined. They were always at their best when it came to playing with you.

“Well, out with it then,” Gojo said, tapping his foot impatiently. “We’ve already decided to share you, so get on with it and ask.”

You blinked, your lashes fluttering in disbelief as you scoffed. “Share me?” you said, followed by a series of incomplete thoughts flowing out in a blur from your lips. “I—I just… share? Me, with both of you? Do I look like a geiko to you? I mean… Satoru, I would never, and Suguru, you barely even look at me half the time. So, I—”

Suguru stood up without a word, crossing the small distance between where he sat and where you stood with three long strides. Your protests ceased as he slid his body against yours, his front flush against you as the man held your face in his hands.

“Stop talking,” he said firmly, making the rush of words halt on your tongue. “We read enough to know what you want. Do you want it to be a reality, or are you content with it being a personal fairytale forever?”

You looked up into Suguru’s deep onyx-colored eyes, somehow tinged even darker with a hint of something you’d never seen on the man’s face before. The fixed position of his jaw, like the man was holding back words—which, for him, was strange—enticed you to nod as he lowered his hands to your hips, guiding you to sit back on the desk.

“Good, then lay down.”

You did as you were told and laid down on the desk, feebly attempting to hold the slipping fabric of your yukata closed in the front as the fabric stretched in the new position.

“Oh, now she’s shy,” Gojo murmured, rolling his eyes as he stood too, coming over to sit next to you on the heavy desk. “But you showed that hack painter the goods with no problem?”

Satoru gripped the obe keeping the thin fabric closed, looking down at you with those crystal-blue eyes in wait until you nodded your head and moved your hands—removing them from where they’d been gripping the garment tight to shield your bare skin beneath.

“Are you hustling us?” Suguru asked, running his hands up your nude body beneath the fabric, causing it to pool around you like a halo as the fabric fell off of you and down onto the desk, only still connected to you by the sleeves. “No wrapping for your breasts. No drawers. And your skin is so supple—practically begging to be touched.”

He wasted no time in dipping his head down then, leaning his tall body over your smaller frame easily to envelop you in his warmth—the weight of his mouth on your skin sending heat down from the crown of your head to your feet as a shiver coursed through your body. He nosed your neck, nipping the area with his teeth before soothing the pain away with kisses while his hands traveled the curves and dips of your body.

Gojo watched, looking down at you both as Getou took one taut nipple into his mouth and sucked before moving his attention down the length of your torso.

“You smell wonderful right here,” Suguru said, kissing his way down until he was squatting, his face level with your cunt. “So wet for me, and I’ve barely done anything to you. Have you thought about this for that long?”

You nodded, willing to throw away a bit of your pride as the man’s mouth hovered so close but still too far away from where you wanted it.

“Me?” Satoru said indignantly, scrunching his nose in irritation. “I thought this was supposed to be a group project, casanova.”

The blue-eyed man adjusted his body to be comfortable as he lowered his head, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and sucking. You ran your hand through Gojo's hair, lightly gripping the soft strands to keep his mouth on you as Suguru lifted your legs, pushing them back and resting his arms against the back of your thighs to keep them open.

“It’s like a little pearl,” Suguru said, mostly to himself as an airy moan left your lungs due to Gojo adding his hands to the mix, pinching your unattended nipple with his fingers.

He lowered his mouth down to your “pearl” then, flicking the muscle tentatively at first, then relaxing into the motions as you wiggled your hips to make him move.

“See?” you said, your voice not sounding like your own as you spoke. “You two work together great. Perfect partners in crime.”

You felt more than saw Suguru's eye roll as he smacked the soft skin of your inner thighs, and Satoru very subtly added his teeth into the next bout of suction against your sensitive nipple. The slight sting of pain added to the pleasure, and you felt the feeling growing beneath your skin as their tongues worked harder against your body.

Satoru moved, adjusting to lay on his side next to you as he toyed with your breasts. The sound of their tongues on your skin was loud in the quiet room as your high crept up on you, building to a fever pitch until you felt nothing but wet heat and saw infinite darkness behind your eyelids. Soft whimpers and long moans poured out of your mouth to accompany it.

“Do you want to taste her? She tastes divine,” Getou murmured toward Gojo, his words slurred slightly as he licked you gently as your orgasm came down. He looked like a man starved; like he couldn’t care less that the “end” had occurred. He just wanted more of you.

Satoru lifted his head, stopping his mission of marking any skin he could get his mouth on. “I wouldn’t describe pussy as divine, but you do your thing. I want to feel her inside,” he said, looking down to watch Getou flick his tongue against your slick folds with reverence again before hopping off of the desk.

“Let’s move this party down to the floor, hm?” Gojo said, running his blunt nails along the sensitive skin of Suguru’s neck as he walked behind him. He slotted his hand in the man’s hair, pulling his head backward to remove him from his daze of feasting on you.

You couldn’t hear well over the beating of your heart in your ears, but you’re sure you heard a slight whine tumble from Getou’s mouth just as a disappointed groan left yours.

“No,” you said, pouting with irritation as Gojo coaxed Getou backward with his hold on his hair. “I felt another one coming.”

He hummed, guiding Suguru down to the ground that was padded with thick tatami mats. “Don’t pout,” Satoru said, walking back over to you. “You’ll get yours again, princess, don’t worry. Waiting for it a little won’t kill you.” He wasted no time lifting you off the furniture, carrying your weight easily with his deceptively strong arms.

He sat you down in between Suguru's legs allowing the other man to hold you close to his chest with his arm wrapped around your waist. As you settled into his lap, your eyes focused forward on Gojo, and you couldn’t stifle the gasp as you saw his length. It hung free from his pants, heavy and blushed at the tip between his legs as he approached you on the tatami.

“Don’t act all innocent,” he said, leaning into your space to kiss you before slotting his legs with Getou’s—caging you between them both. “You’ve seen a dick before.”

You blinked dumbly, wondering how much an insufferable man could be blessed with so much girth. “Not one like that,” you muttered, yelping with a shout as Gojo landed a swift spank against your sensitive bud.

“Shut up,” he groaned, resting his hand on the firm bone above your cunt while his thumb dipped down into the mess of sloppy wet slick coating your sex. “Getou, get your cock out. I want to try something.”

The typical temperate man made no contests as he normally would. He simply lifted your body enough to wiggle his pants down and placed you back down in his lap, pressing his hard length against your back.

“It’s out. Now what?”

Gojo smirked, pushing your legs toward your chest as he sat up enough to be kneeling.

“Hold these,” he said, gripping your thighs until Getou’s hands replaced his—holding you open and exposed for the world to see.

“I’ll get her nice and ready, then you can have your fill, Suguru.”

Gojo fisted his cock, running his hand up and down the length a few times before nestling himself against your entrance—impatiently asking for your approval with his eyes. You nodded as Getou tilted your chin up to meet his gaze, and he kissed you—deep and filled with passion you didn’t know the man was capable of while Gojo sheathed himself into your wet heat, groaning as he bottomed out.

“Jesus, you’re soft. Everywhere, but fuck—right here. Inside,” he said, his breathing ragged as he began to move. His characteristic ruthlessness came out in full force as he wasted no time thrusting into you, making your body jolt and rub against Getou’s abdomen, and thus his cock trapped in-between.

“A little less rough, Gojo,” Getou said, a weak moan spilling from his lips as a particularly firm thrust that made him rut against you harder than he meant to. “I’d rather not cum on her back, at least not like this.”

Satoru laughed, loosening his grip on your hips as he looked the other man in the eye. “Well, get inside of her then, dumbass. I’ll wait.”

You allowed your body to be rag-dolled as the men exchanged places inside of you—Satoru’s hard length pulling out as Suguru slid inside.

“‘S’ different,” you said, moaning into the exchange as Gojo’s girth was switched with Getou’s length. “Fucking good. It’s really good.”

Suguru cooed at you, kissing you messily as one of his hands found your nipple while the other gripped your waist—holding you still while Suguru fucked you. Satoru busied his hands with your clit as he let the other man get his fill, tugging his own cock as he watched his fuck into you nice and deep despite the position.

Gojo and patient were two words that had never complimented each other well, so when he pressed his length against your entrance, with Getou still inside, all you could do was beg for more despite the surprise. You gasped when he lightly breached your cunt, accidentally slipping in when you slammed down onto Getou’s cock. Satoru had been jerking himself off with his tip against your folds. Still, once the idea was there…

“Do it again,” you said, taking a deep breath when Suguru stopped his thrusts for a moment to process what you were asking for.

The two men communicated something with their eyes and then directed their looks down to you.

“Well, she did say she wanted us both, right? Like that prostitute and her clients at the bathhouse?” Gojo said, faltering as your breathing quickened once you pieced together that the two were okay with what you wanted.

It should have terrified you. Absolutely petrified you, but it didn’t. Your heart raced with excitement as the two men positioned themselves to do what your dreams couldn’t have conjured on their own. You felt your cunt drip with want at the mere thought of it, and the two men—the men who put their lives on the line for yours daily, who loved you so deeply in their own ways— were both ready to make it happen.

“I want it,” you whimpered, wiggling your hips back and forth to entice the man to move. For one of them to do something. “I want you both.”

You could feel Suguru’s body tense as you said the words, but you lulled his worries with a massaging squeeze with your walls around his cock—eliciting a deep moan from the man and at that moment, Satoru made you whole.

His cock nestled in snug against Getou’s, stretching you to your limits, then he moved. Slow at first, with nothing but careful intent in his eyes as he let you adjust. But after a few minutes, filled with distracting kisses and caresses on all the spots you needed their hands the most, Gojo fucked you—and you saw stars. Everything was shrouded in darkness after that. Your eyes snapped closed, and your ears no longer processed sound as the overwhelming sensation of fullness processed in your nerves, driving you to the brink of insanity as the two men rutted into you—grabbing any flesh they could reach while tangling their tongues with yours—and each other—before you were all reaching your peaks, stuffed and satiated with the warm trembling of post-coital glow.

It was bliss.

“What else do you want to try, Satoru?” Suguru panted, breathless as you all soaked in each other’s presence on the quickly cooling tatami mats. Kissing and cuddling once Satoru pulled out of you, while Getou decided to leave his cock inside you for warmth.

“Hell if I know. She’s the creative one here,” Satoru said, a lazy smile gracing his face again as he pulled you into a kiss.

“That she is.” Suguru purred, nuzzling his nose against the crown of your head. “We have all the time in the world to try everything you dream of and more, princess.”

You hummed, letting the two kiss you and touch you to your heart's content, falling into the rhythm of ‘want’ all over again.

“You know… you two never really answered my question,” you said between kisses, interrupting Suguru as he rubbed circles against your clit with his long middle finger.

“The question being?” he asked, resuming his movements as he stopped trying to rack his brain for the answer on his own.

“Have you ever done this when you’re alone?” You asked, placing a quick kiss on the samurai's throat as you gazed at Satoru. “Did you think I didn’t notice you kissing, too?”

They looked between each other, scowled, and groaned a matching, “only in your dreams.”

Though the slightest hint of hesitation gave them away, and the night of exploration continued.

------

thanks for reading <;3 taglist; ao3; twitter

[heliads]

Curiosities

You feel that life can be divided up into a select set of curiosities- rules by which you live and breathe, that explain away everything in your life as a mutant. You’re doing fine until a certain boy named Peter Maximoff throws everything into disarray.

masterlist

If you try hard enough, everything that happens to you can be sorted out into a list of curiosities. You’re not sure how long you’d been thinking about it this way, but it made enough sense if you really thought about it. Your life was different, ever-changing, and if you kept it locked away within the list of curiosities, you could get a handle on it long enough to peek through the chest of memories that would otherwise fly open and swallow you whole.

Curiosity #1: You were a mutant.

This in itself was relatively easy to explain. When you were about ten, maybe twelve, you started to show the first signs of your power. A faint stirring in the shade in the corner of the room, the fact that you were never afraid of the dark. You waved to your shadow with your left hand, it responded by moving the ankle on its right. By the time you were about fourteen, your powers had fully come into being: you were able to control the shadows. You could bring them into existence, spooling black fog around your fingers and forcing it to your will. 

Curiosity #2: Even among mutants, you were an outcast.

You had come to Professor Xavier’s school when the building itself was fairly uninhabited. Xavier understood you; but then again, he was able to look past the dark furrow of your brow and into the sunny spaces of your head; he could tell that you didn’t wish to hurt anybody. None of the other students shared that same gift, except perhaps Jean, but she didn’t particularly wish to go probing into your skull.

When the school was still new and lacking in students, you were able to grow and flourish as a mutant. The Professor taught you how to use your powers himself, and you had full reign over the grounds. Then, more students started to appear, and they took up more and more of Xavier’s time. Before long, he barely saw you at all.

The other students didn’t know what to make of you. They could understand mutants with cool, interesting powers, like Storm with her weather manipulation or Mystique with her ability to change forms. Furry, blue teachers were acceptable; you were not. They were afraid of how you could control the shadows, how you seemed part darkness yourself. They drew away from you, huddling in the hallways and not making eye contact when you walked by. Slowly, a hated nickname surfaced: Suffocator. They were terrified that you would reach out a hand, call the darkness to you, make it cover their mouth and nose and choke out all air from their desperate lungs. You hated it, but it didn’t matter. Suffocator you were, and suffocator you would always be.

One night, a few of the mutants your age were bored and wanted to throw a party. Someone, maybe Jubilee, had heard of this thing called a masquerade party on one of her trips to the mall or somewhere outside of the school. She was desperate to try it out, and so Xavier’s School had posters everywhere across campus advertising the party.

When you first heard of it, you weren’t planning on going. Nobody wanted you there, not the girl who lurked in the shadows and didn’t speak to anyone. Then you realized that everyone would be wearing a mask and intentionally disguising their identity- nobody would know who you were. It almost seemed too good to be true.

A few days later, the day of the masquerade party arrived. You had donned a sapphire blue mask, one that shimmered like the lake just outside the school when the sun crossed its waves. The glittering, twinkling sea would hide your face from those who would otherwise distrust you. You had glanced at yourself in the mirror before you went; you did not look like yourself. You smiled in satisfaction, and headed out.

The party was being held in one of the empty halls of the school, and you blended in seamlessly with the other mutants. You talked and laughed with them, and they had no idea that they were speaking with the girl they’d avoided just a few hours earlier. You found yourself smiling and having more fun than you’d had in months.

Then, you became aware of one student heading towards you. Tall, overbearing Natalie: she had always hated you for some unknown reason. She glanced once at the group of friends you were speaking with, then folded her arms across her chest. “Do you know who you’re talking to?” She said, and the group looked from her to you and shook their heads. Natalie donned a gleeful smirk. “That’s Y/N. I’m not sure you really want to be spending that much time with her.”

The group of mutants cast you fearful looks once they realize it’s you, and start to walk away. Natalie is the only one who remains, and she crosses the final few feet to stand in front of you. Her voice comes in a loud hiss that seems to echo around the room. “Suffocator.”

A blur of silver flashes around you, and then a boy suddenly appears in front of you. “Those are strong words for someone who can’t even figure out empathy. I mean, come on- yesterday someone was crying in front of you and it took you half an hour to figure out they were sad.” Natalie draws back, angry. “Rude, Maximoff! Hasn’t Xavier told you not to make fun of people’s powers? Empathy is hard.” The silver-haired boy laughs. “Not making fun of people’s powers? I think you’re the one who needs to work on that, not me.”

Natalie rolls her eyes, trying to hide her annoyance at the fact that she’s losing this argument. “Whatever. I’m bored of this already.” She stomps away to hang out with her other friends, leaving you to stare at the boy who’d suddenly come to your defense. Of all the mutants, why would it be Peter?

Curiosity #3: Peter Maximoff.

Nobody at Xavier’s school trusted you. Nobody, it seemed, except for Peter. Ever since that day, he’d been relentless in his task to befriend you. You’re not sure why- everyone else had given up on you long ago. It’s not like you didn’t want friends, or that you were that strange a person. You were like everyone else: happy, laughing, friendly. It’s just the threat of your powers, so strange and unnatural, that forced everyone else away.

But not him. No, Peter refused to let your powers daunt him in the slightest. He’d be there after class, walking nonchalantly beside you. It didn’t seem like a friendship borne of pity- no, he teased you and made the same jokes as he would with everyone else. He even called you Suffocator once, that dreaded nickname, although it didn’t have that same barb as it did before. Maybe that’s because the other students used it as a knife to stab at you before running away. Instead, Peter tossed it like a paper plane, letting it float through the air as the two of you laughed from a joke. He didn’t want anything more than friendship, and so the two of you hung out after class, fighting mock battles with your powers and enjoying the time to be two simple teenagers in the otherwise strange world of mutants.

Curiosity #4: The quiet.

You’re not sure when you notice the silence at first. It’s just another day, ordinary in its dullness. You’re in the back of the grounds, away from the large groups of people in an attempt to study for a test you have later. You look up, once, fishing for a sticky note to mark the end of the chapter, but your eyes stay searching even after your hands close around the pad of paper.

You can’t hear anything. Well, that’s not entirely true. The birds still chirp, although with odd hesitation, as if afraid to sing too loudly. The wind still rustles the trees, but slowly, as if trying not to be noticed. The everlasting din of the students, though, that is gone. You push your books into your bag, standing up quietly. Even the zip of your backpack seems to echo in the silence.

This is strange. What happened to make the air so tense, the students shut their mouths for once to stand together in quiet? You sling your backpack over your shoulder, heading quickly to the front of the school to see what the fuss (or lack of, rather) is about.

There’s nothing at the front of the school, either. In fact, there aren’t that many people there. The only mutants out are Jean, Peter, Storm, Scott, and Nightcrawler. You watch as Jean presses her fingers to her temples, sending out a message that you only now pick up in your head. Go inside now. Don’t look out. Get the Professor. It echoes on a loop inside your brain, appearing only now that you’re close enough to the sender.

You glance around you, searching for some trouble that would cause Jean to send out such a message. Then, you see it- three large armored trucks headed your way, military logos emblazoned on the sides. This sort of thing happens every few years or so- some military higher-up decides that the mutants are too dangerous to be kept alive, and they attempt to round up everyone at the school. Xavier is usually there to put a stop to it, but today he’s out in some big city doing official business, so he’s not here to protect you. In fact, the only ones here to protect you are yourselves.

You watch as the trucks roll closer. Once they reach the gate, they stop, and soldiers start to stream out of it. Storm shouts over to Jean. “Are we doing anything about this?” Jean nods, her hair flicking out behind her like tongues of flame. “We’re stopping them. They want a fight, I can hear it. That’s just what they’ll get.” She says, and the mutants around her prepare themselves for a battle.

Curiosity #5: You stay to fight.

Why are you still here? Jean told everyone who wasn’t one of Xavier’s hand picked team to go inside, and yet you’re still cracking your knuckles out in front of the school just like everyone else. Maybe it’s because you want a taste for just how much damage your powers can deal out, or maybe it’s because you finally have a chance to prove yourself to be a hero, to fight like the others and make a name for yourself as someone who’s in it to protect the other students, even if they wouldn’t protect her. Regardless of the reason, the outcome stays the same. You’re here to fight.

When the men start running forward, you realize with sickening dread that they’ve brought guns, and dangerous ones at that. You’re not sure why they thought they’d need military grade rifles at a school, but they’re out and loaded nonetheless. They raise them towards you, launching a volley of bullets, but you throw up your arms and a wall of shadow appears in between the mutants and the guns, blocking the bullets and forcing them to the ground.

Jean turns to you, amazed. “Actually, I think it would be better if you stayed with us.” You grin slightly at that, turning your attention back to the soldiers. You and the other mutants fight in unison, powers working together as fluidly as a well oiled machine. You seem to compliment them, understanding their hurried motions as if you’d been working with them your entire life. 

Before you know it, the soldiers are hurrying back to the armored trucks, gesturing frantically at the drivers to get them out of here before they are killed by a bunch of kids with magic powers. The mutants look happily amongst yourselves, proud that you’d managed to defend the school against the soldiers. Together, you’d protected everyone here.

The night is starting to grow late, and everyone is out on the grounds in celebration. It’s not everyday that a bunch of teenagers fight back against the military and win, you know. You idle near a group of mutants, red plastic cup in hand just like them. Something feels odd, and it takes you a moment to notice what it is. Nobody’s scared of you. There aren’t any students huddled together, looking at you through nervous eyes that flick away when you catch sight of them. No pointed fingers, no hushed whispers. Maybe you’ve finally been accepted as one of them.

Jean approaches from across the field, stopping at a group of mutants only a few feet away from you. She leans towards Storm, tapping her on the shoulder. “Scott, Peter, Kurt, and I are hanging out in another corner of the woods. You know, victory party and all that? Come with us.” Her voice is a low whisper, but you can’t help smiling at it. You wait for her to nod at you, to ask you the same question, but strangely enough, she just slings an arm around Storm’s shoulder and the two of them walk away into the woods, leaving you behind.

She saw you. You know she saw you- her eyes glanced over you before they left. Her eyes weren’t glinting with hatred, some ill-concealed malice or anything. This wasn’t a plot to intentionally leave you out, she just didn’t see you as someone to invite, even though you’d been a key part of that victory group she seems so keen to celebrate. The realization hits you like a ton of bricks- no matter how hard you try, how many times you fight to protect them, they will never see you as a friend. All because they don’t understand your powers.

Dazedly, you leave the grounds where the rest of the mutants are celebrating. You find some quiet corner of the woods, a place that’s tucked away where nobody will notice you. The ‘victory party’ is on the opposite side of the grounds, so you know that you don’t have to fear anyone accidentally stumbling across you.

You slide to the ground, leaning back against the sturdy trunk of one of the many trees that stand tall and proud around the school’s forest. You cover your face in your hands, feeling all of your emotions finally catch up with you. You wish you could prove yourself in some way, that your powers may physically be dark but that you weren’t a monster, but it doesn’t matter how hard you try. You’ll never be anything more than a villain to them.

Silent tears course down your cheeks. You don’t think you’ve ever felt more alone than this night, even when things seemed impossible. No matter how bad things were before, this night manages to take the cake. There’s a cracking sound behind you, and you wipe your tears away hurriedly as you realize someone’s walking up to you.

“What are you doing all alone? Don’t you know we’re celebrating?” It’s Peter. Of course it is. You turn to face him, hoping the darkness will obscure the puffiness in your eyes. “Guess I was just tired.” You plaster on a smile, praying that he’ll get bored and go rejoin the others, but no such luck. He plops down in the grass next to you, arms stretched back behind him.

“Why aren’t you with Jean and the rest?” He says, and you frown at him. “What do you mean?” You ask. Peter furrows his brow. “You know, the victory party. You were there when the soldiers attacked, and you saved our skins like a dozen times over. Why aren’t you with them?” You look at him, willing him to be observant for just this once. “I just didn’t feel like going.” Peter rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on. Stop being your dramatic little self and just come on. The rest will be happy to see you.” 

He extends an arm as if to drag you there himself. You sigh frustratedly. “Fine, Peter. I’m not being dramatic. I know there’s a party, and I also know that they very much do not want me there. I was there when Jean asked Storm to hang out with Scott, Kurt, and the rest. She knew I was there, she saw me, and she didn’t ask the same of me.” Your voice breaks off. “It’s pretty obvious that no one here wants me to be there. Hell, no one here wants me to be at this school at all, and the only one who can’t see that is you.”

Peter’s silent for a second, and you curse inwardly. Now you’ve gone and made Peter, the one person who’s been here for you, feel bad about himself. You wouldn’t be surprised if he just gets up and leaves now. But he doesn’t. In fact, a smile flashes across his face. “That’s because they’re idiots.” You look at him, confused. “What?” He laughs. “They’re idiots, and you’re an idiot for listening to them.” 

He gestures absentmindedly at you. “Y/N, you’ve got one of the coolest powers I’ve ever seen, and for what, so you can be sad about it? Are you really telling me you’d rather be an empath than control the shadows? That’s like, the neatest thing ever.” His words, spoken with such conviction, bring a laugh to your face as well. Peter’s eyes light up when he sees it. “See, there you go. Come on, let’s have some fun. We don’t need them if they’re being weird.”

Your laugh dies off quietly as you look back at him. “Why are you doing this? Why are you taking the time to make me feel better? You make fun of your own friends and rob convenience stores when you’re bored. Since when has Quicksilver gone this far out of his way to make somebody laugh?” Peter smiles at you, then leans forward. His lips are on yours, suddenly, his hand gently cupped against your cheek. Just as you’ve realized what’s happening, he’s back in his spot a few feet away again. He smirks at you. “That’s why.”

You laugh in spite of yourself. “That’s why. Well, I guess that’s an acceptable reason.” Peter smiles. “Only acceptable? That’s not the best thing I’ve heard, but I suppose it’ll be okay for now.” He stands up, offering a hand to you. You take it. “So, are you coming with me or not? I intend to cause all sorts of chaos.” You look over at him, laughter dancing in your eyes. “Of course I am.”

Curiosity #6: Peter Maximoff loves you. And you love him.

peter maximoff tag list @amourtentiaa​

[bloomyagi]

bewitched (m)

summary: bakugou has always loved you.

pairings: bakugou katsuki x f!reader, hawks x f!reader (nsfw)

genre: characters are aged up, 20+, pro heroes au

warnings: allusions to cheating, angst, porn w/ lots of feelings, shower sex, kinda subby bakugou, he’s basically lovesick n soft for u, keigo is a good birdie, he would never do this irl

length: 3,518

notes: hello! my first bnha fic, please be kind <3 please let me know what you think! i’ve been so obsessed w/ jjk & bnha recently skdjkjf. send help 

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It comes down softly at first. The droplets whispering against windshields, ghosting across bare arms, a trick of the light. Then a pause, like the darkening clouds are reconsidering their decisions. There is no wind, no anger in the way it pelts down, darkens the concrete. Like resignation, like relief. It soaks bone, sends most civilians packing as they duck under awnings and flee into shops in anticipation of a short-lived flare.

But it is summer, and the rain is welcome as a remedy against the oppressive heat. Many onlookers merely move their belongings closer to avoid the stream, gaze out glass windows longingly. Some find inspiration, others find peace.

You stand in the middle of it all, drenched and unmoving as you watch your lover wrap his arms around his secretary, and you wonder whose mood this pathetic fallacy is expected to reflect as you look across to meet familiar eyes.

He, too, mirrors your stance. Clothes sodden, yet the nature of its designs only lends to plaster themselves closer to his skin. His irises are that bright, burning red. He is not fizzling, heated against the affair before him. Instead, his gaze is trained on you.

There is no fury, no sadness, no emptiness. His gaze is not hollow, it is instead strangely warm. Your chest squeezes, tightening in the way you experience when you read a novel laced in tragedy, that welling feeling of anguish and sorrow.

His hands are shoved in his pockets, and though his eyes remain fastened to you, he makes no step to move closer.

The sky lightens, a thin streak of sun peering through in a solitary beam. The sounds seem to press close again, like a bubble popping in your ear.

The summer storm is tempered as quickly as it appeared, the sound of life—laughter, the splashing of sneakers drowning in newly formed puddles—and the lingering smell of renewed earth and the chirping of birds as they shake off their wings to take flight.

Water drips silently down the pair of gorgeous wings before you. They flutter briefly, flicking off the thin layer that pooled on its surface, before unfurling to fold over her. He pulls her closer, separating only every so often to breathe.

Shameless, is all you think plainly. And you are—ashamed. That feeling catches you by surprise, breath caught in your throat as the feeling expands, takes root in your lungs. It is that hindsight, that disappointment—at yourself—that has you lowering your eyes.

He is still looking at you, even as someone squeals and a crowd gathers, pushing and shoving to press close, stays rooted to his spot, watching you, even as the couple finally break apart, dishevelled—she adjusts her pencil skirt, re-buttons her blouse; he runs a hand through his golden locks, fixes his half-open shirt—and Hawks’ chuckle rings across the street, one arm braced around her waist as he signs autographs and takes photos. She is glowing beside him, all smiles and shrill laughter. Her nails, perfectly manicured and sharp, digs into his chest. He doesn’t even flinch. He likes it.

You stifle a dry laugh. Turning on your heel, you disappear into the thickening crowd.

He himself is being pawed at, hands fawning at his exposed arms, clutching at him like he is fresh off the conveyer belt.

He waits until he can no longer discern your retreating figure before bearing a half-smile at the crowd. He takes the pen that is shoved into his face, and he begins signing autographs.

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Time and experience have tempered his constitution. He has accepted his flaws, worked on them until he could proudly stand on the same stage as his—friends. Because that is what they are—these people that have helped him grow, comforted his trauma, stayed with him despite it all. What else could he call them but the very things they are—they are the pillar of his strength. Because of you, I learned I could be strong for the things I care about.

He is not number one. He has no need for such a title, no need for such a goal anymore. He is no longer the brash, easily angered teenager that charged for the strongest.

“I don’t care what they call me, what rank I am, or what they think of me. I only want the power to protect these people. That’s it.” He thinks back to your words.

You are not often solemn. You laughed a lot, the slow-appearing crinkles to the corner of your eyes a physical testament to your innate joy. You liked to take delight in the ordinary things. Perhaps that is what drew him to you—that strength. To shoulder the burden of your chosen role in this society, to have the bravery to smile amongst the suffering.

There was always an unbidden heat that surged in his chest when he thought of you. That odd feeling of a knot tying itself in his stomach when his skin brushed yours. When you fell from the height of a skyscraper, half-conscious from defeating a new breed of nomu, his heart stuttered and leapt in halting beats to throat as he split from his team, their screams for you ringing in his ears, the rush of badump-badump closing in rapidly, pushing his beaten body to its limits, faster, faster, faster—please! Who was he praying to at the time? He was begging anyone who was listening to give him that push—the gap was too big, you were too far, he was too tired, too useless, too broken—he slammed into you with enough force to compel blood up his throat.

He spat it to the side quickly, not bothering to wipe himself clean before he turned to you. The first thing he registered was warmth. You were limp in his hold, on the edge of passing out, exhaustion lining every curve of your face. Your lips quirked, eyes closed.

“Hurts like hell,” you slurred. “Falling from heaven.”

He stared at you, blinking the blood from his lashes.

And then he threw his back and laughed. It was a full-bodied, uproarish laughter. The type that rumbled from his chest. He shook, though he was careful not to jostle you, and you managed a quiet chuckle.

The adrenaline faded from his body, and he hiccupped as he slumped onto the concrete beam behind him. The ice receded from his veins.

“Don’t scare me like that again,” he murmured. It was a quiet plea. Don’t do that ever again, is what he really wanted to say, but how could he? This was the occupational hazard of your shared line of work. This was the risk. His eyes burned, half-lidded as he held you closer.

You couldn’t lift a single limb on your body, so you lean into him.

“No promises.”

It was enough. Your voice was raspy, drained, but there was a sincere lilt to it.

He wanted to say something more, then, but first responders arrived and whisked you separate ways before he could gather his thoughts.

He regrets it, to this day. Perhaps if he had said something then, said something sooner, the scene would have played out differently.

He does not have many regrets, have long resolved to move on from his past and mistakes. “What a useless emotion,” you once told him. “Don’t wallow. Mourn and move on. Do better. That’s what you owe. That is what you are owed.”

But this—this he will always regret.

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He finds you on the roof of your penthouse.

“I like it. Being able to see everything from up here.” The first time he’d peered over the edge, he’d been enlisted for furniture rearranging. You handed him a beer, beckoning him over, jerking your head to the scenery below. And it was—breathtaking. You were breathtaking. He hadn’t even bothered to entertain a cursory glance. It was summer then, too, and the evening breeze was light as it brushed your locks back. Lights began to flicker as the sun dipped lower into the horizon. He briefly considered making a similar move.

But moving was a hassle, only further proven by the efforts of today, so he dismissed the thought quickly, taking another swig. He was sweaty, a layer of grime a film over his skin from the manual labour he’d been voluntold for most of the afternoon. It was petty work compared to his—their—day job, but it was still a strangely refreshing workout.

“What are you feeling?” His steps are muted, voice faint. It carries on the back of a shallow gust.

You don’t spare him a look, staring into the distance. You’re sitting, one leg thrown casually over the ledge, the other pulled to your stomach. He’d made an off-hand comment once about adding some railings, but you’d rolled your eyes and pushed him playfully.

Pussy, you called. He chuckled. Like we don’t experience enough life-threatening dangers on a regular basis, he snarked.

All the more reason, then, you shot back. He fell silent then, the pulsing in his throat returning.

He could never really read you. Eyes are the window to the soul. He scoffs internally. Whoever said that must’ve known it was a load of bullshit. Your eyes never said anything. But his—his said everything he couldn’t, and more.

You hum. “Would it be cliché if I said I wasn’t surprised, only disappointed?”

“No.”

“Then I’m disappointed. I had hoped, I suppose, that he would choose differently.”

He tastes the words that I would be enough between, and the sigh of to change him that escapes your lips.

“You knew who he was when you went into this,” he says quietly. No judgement—he is not reminding you of your poor decisions, rather striking a conversation in the same manner one would inquire about the weather.

Quant, you think. And a few years ago, you would have added out of character. But now it is not so—he has grown into himself well.

You tilt your head back. He leans against the wall, arms crossed across that well-built chest of his, shirt straining against the muscle. He’s so tall now—so much taller than anyone had expected him to be. That wild, unruly blond hair of his has remained the same, appearing spiky but soft to the touch. And his eyes—they are gentle but retain the ferocity he is well-known for.

“Yes,” you say after a while. “That is why I am not surprised. But these feelings won’t just disappear overnight because of this.”

He’s quiet for a while, those crimson orbs of his trailing over your expression. You don’t know what he finds, but he must understand your position because he nods.

“I’ll wait for you.”

This—this is a surprise. Somehow, he always manages to surprise you.

“After all this time?” You ask softly.

“Always,” he says quietly.

He leaves, and when you return to the house, you pick up the keys he left on your counter. Twirling them on one finger, you smile to yourself.

Thank you. You know he knows.

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“I tried to be the person you wanted me to be,” he says.

“I tried, I really did. But this is who I am, who they made me. I can’t change. I’m sorry,” he says.

He says a lot more, you think, but you’ve long since stopped listening. He knows these are only flimsy barriers that excuse his behaviour. He knows he is not this person. He is not broken, he is worthy of much, much more. He just needs to believe it. They took everything from him. That is what he thinks, how he lives. Like he has no real purpose.

Instead, he is stopped, wings flaring as you reach for him. You smell familiar, and that ache in his heart deepens. He will forever regret losing you, but you deserve more. He is not good for you, and he is not your responsibility. His growth is his obligation. Perhaps, when he is ready, he will find you again.

But by then, he thinks, burying his face into your shoulder, you will have already chosen differently.

“I love you, baby bird. I will always love you,” he presses these words against your neck in a soft whisper, voice cracking, like a prayer, he tries to sear his truth into your skin. He tastes salt on his tongue.

And, between it all, he traces I’m sorry.

You squeeze him once.

You know.

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“Hey.”

You’re uncharacteristically shy, cheeks puffing in that sweet smile of yours.

That sharp, familiar warmth blooms in his chest at the sight of you perched on the arm of his leather couch. You look comfortable, relaxed, like you—belonged here, his mind supplies helpfully.

He steps out of his boots, unbuckling his support items and setting them on the counter to clean later. He’s a little worse for wear tonight, shoulders tight from chasing rogue villains the past few hours. The tension seeps away steadily, though, the longer he drinks you in.

You look good. You always look good. Gorgeous, even more so when you’re tired and dirty, covered in blood and dust and debris. It’s been so long since you patrolled together, pulled to opposite ends of the city the past few months.

“Hey,” he says back.

“Shower?” You take his hand.

He trails behind you, nearly tripping over in his haste to follow, failing to register your words in time. This must be a dream, he decides. And he will play along, as he always does in these fits of delirium. He will hold you and have you and love you in ways he cannot begin to describe, and then he will lose you as dawn breaks and he wakes to an empty bed. But he falls anyway, does it over and over until he feels like he will go insane from the sheer longing. He is addicted to you.

You haven’t spoken, not really, since that night on the rooftop. So you, being here, without any prior warning, touching him, smiling at him, leading him to his fucking shower—this must be a dream, right?

You push open the door to his bathroom. It’s big, he’s always been meticulous about his health, and enjoys his fair share of long soaks and hot showers.

He realizes a beat too late that you’re undressing him. He exhales sharply when you tug his shirt off, but before he could say anything, you murmur, “You smell like caramel. You always do. It’s just a little stronger than usual.”

“Oh.” He sounds a little breathless, a little strangled. Unlike him, but he has never really been anything but himself with you. He’s still discovering new sides to himself, it seems.

Oddly enough, he’s the farthest thing from embarrassed as he steps out of his pants and boxers. He’s flushed, but the heat that floods his veins is nothing short of delicious. It makes his head spin, makes him lean into your touch.

You strip quickly, tossing your costume fabric aside his for laundry. He sucks in an audible breath at the sight of your nude body. Beautiful, he wants to say, but the words are stuck in his throat, and he reaches out with a shaky hand to thumb the smear of grease on your cheek.

You smile, pushing open the frosted glass doors and pull him inside.

The temperature is perfect. He likes it hot on days like today, muscles relaxing as the water washes away his fatigue.

“You know me so well,” he says.

You push him under the stream, water cascading between the two of you. His locks flatten under the pressure, falling over his eyes. You run a hand through his hair, pushing it back as you press yourself flush against him.

“Yes,” you answer. “I do.”

And then you kiss him. A low purring echoes through the space. Ah, it’s me, some part of him thinks absently. He opens his mouth instantly, tongue lapping at yours, arms coming around to hold you close. He can distinctly feel the way your perked nipples rub against his pectorals. He can taste you. And you are sweet, so sweet and the lewd sounds of your make out reverberating in the room so vividly he knows this is not, in fact, a mere conjuration of imagination after all.

He loathes to part from you, but he does. His fingers dig into your waist, anchoring him to reality. He looks at you searchingly, beseechingly. If you are here, you can only be here for one reason.

“I’m sorry I took so long. I’m sorry, I know it must’ve been painful. I’m here now, I promise I’ll never leave again,” you say, cupping his cheek.

His breath catches. His eyes flutter shut.

“You promise?” He sounds so small, so weak. Vulnerable. He would’ve hated that, once, but he is no longer that person. Today, he can accept he is weak for you. Always has been. And that’s okay, he thinks. He doesn’t have to be strong all the time.

“Yes. I promise, Katsuki.” You press your forehead against him, standing on your tippy toes.

He kisses you again, swallows your dreamy sigh, one hand on the back of your head, the other crushing your body against his. He wants you close, needs you close. Needs to feel you, this is real, right?

“Yes,” you whisper, and he realizes belatedly that he spoke aloud. “This is real. I’m here. I’m right in front of you.” You take his hand and press it against your upper rib cage, where your heart beats. Fast, like the wings of a hummingbird.

He can’t help it. He takes you against the wall, so pent up from years of pining he can hardly think, rutting into you like a teenager in heat, feeling like he’s a virgin again, every trace of your skin so new, he maps them out first with his eyes, then his hands and mouth. He slows down when you call his name in a haze of pleasure, takes the time to worship you, find what makes you tick, watches your expression raptly as he rolls his hips, as he tweaks your nipples, palms your ass, litters a necklace of freshly bloomed violets on your collarbone.

He’s panting your name, you’re murmuring praises in his ear, tugging at his locks and biting down on his shoulder and he cums so hard his vision whitens.

The two of you slide down, his legs giving out in the aftershocks, until he’s sitting on the floor of his shower and you’re curled up on his lap.

The water is—miraculously—still hot.

You lay there for a while, and he catches his breath between lazy kisses, enjoying the way your hands roam his chest languidly.

Finally, he stands, letting you down reluctantly to actually clean yourselves. You giggle at the pout that forms when your feet touch the ground once more.

You wash his hair, massaging methodically as he dips his head back to let the foam drain. He takes great pleasure in this, at the way you spread a generous amount of body wash on your palms and begin scrubbing the grime from his skin.

He jolts forward, letting out a low groan as you squeeze his flaccid cock teasingly. He glances away, eyes half-lidded, at the heated look you give him when his cock hardens immediately.

“You underestimate how easily you turn me on,” he says plainly. Not a hint of embarrassment. And why should he be? You kiss the corner of his mouth. “I love it,” you murmur.

You rinse him off before turning. His length presses against your ass, but he makes no move to seek anything further, focused on washing you.

Satisfied, he turns off the water.

You step out, toweling each other off. He pulls you to him, inhaling deeply. He likes that you smell like him now.

.

.

.

Afterwards, you are tucked in close, covers pulled up and he’s buried his face in your chest, bare legs tangled.

Perhaps it’s the novelty, the feeling of finally, but you can’t get enough of one another. You wake each other multiple times throughout the night, clawing at each other, ripping his boxers and your—his—shirt from each other until you were pressed tightly together, bare, a thin sheen of sweet already coating your bodies.

A thin strip of moonlight peeks through the cream curtains. He gazes up at you, thinks everything in his life has been leading up to this moment. That warmth swelling again, as it always does, so intense it has him arching his back. You touch his cheek, smiling. Something lands on the side of his pillow. Ah. You lean down, lips warm as they kiss away his tears.

“I love you, Katsuki.”

He closes his eyes.

Thank you.

[jinpanman]

It's You

pairing: hoseok x fem. reader (+ lowkey yoonjimin)

word count: 14k

genre: pg15, fluff, friends to lovers au, teacher au, coworkers au

warnings: a lot of awkwardness, excessive blushing, drinking, some non-explicit nsfw (dirty thoughts, brief mention of boners, hoseok blurts out wanting to put babies in you😌)

synopsis: An accidental confession throws your years-long friendship with Hoseok into disarray.

a/n: my first finished fic in 2 years!!!!! WOW. from what started out as a literal dream months ago to a 3k monster of illegible scribbles to a 9k mess to this. thank you to the BSH members for being amazing and helpful and oh so wonderful. thank you to Connee @writerly-love​ for being so lovely and encouraging uwu she writes so check her out y’all 💖 and the biggest BIGGEST thank you to my beta reader Melissa @hauntedlilies​ for doing me the biggest solid and helping me with 31982 things in this fic. you have been the best help and your advice and commentary is invaluable to me. thank you for encouraging me and thank you for loving my idiot characters! she draws and writes btw. check her out!!💖 i hope you enjoy this story, dearest reader 🥺🌱 (edited 05/2021)

yoonjimin drabble: It’s You 2.0

Is it normal to be so endeared watching your students jumping with excitement around your colleague?

You love your students, you do. Why else would you have become an after school teacher?  Sometimes, though, there are days when you’re scrambling to come up with an activity hours before the kids flock in from their day class. It’s tiring to always have to be on your toes in order to meet the needs of your students—which change at the switch of a light every day!—but it’s a welcome weight in your life. 

You’re thankful that you don’t have to do it all on your own. Every other week you collaborate with other teachers at the school to foster friendship and camaraderie outside of your student’s usual age range. Today your class is combined with Hoseok’s, and they are all too excited to see their favorite Mr. Hobi. Not that you blame them.

Hoseok claps his hands, drawing the attention of your students whose loud chatter lowers to a hum, albeit still excited. The students flock to him like little ducklings to their mama and you absolutely cannot help but giggle at the sight. He has such a natural chemistry with children and choosing a life as an educator fits him so well. 

Your eyes wander to where your colleague is situated in front of the class. He instructs the students to raise their hands along with him and together they stretch for a good minute. His face is scrunched in a goofy smile as his head tilts, causing his glasses to slip down his nose. Would he mind if you walked over to fix his glasses?

The herbal tea he brought you before class warms your hands as you stand in the back to observe. The steam from the cup brings out a lovely smell of peppermint which you inhale happily. Despite being a strong advocate for coffee and knowing next to nothing about tea, he somehow knew the exact type of tea you liked to drink. You take a long sip and listen to him entice the children with one last hour of fun before they have to go home.

“Okay kids! Today we’re gonna make the ground really pretty for everyone to see tomorrow morning! What do you say?”

They all cheer and he directs them to stand in two orderly lines in front of either of you by the front door while he hands you a bag filled with chalk sticks of varying colors. You raise your brows in curiosity.

“Last minute decision?”

He scoffs and hands a chalk piece to the next student in line.

“No!” You raise a brow at him and he sighs in resignation. “Fine, yes. But no one needs to know that, okay?”

You both laugh in complete understanding of the teacher struggles. Oh, the simple life of a child; so easily amused by a little piece of chalk.

“Teacher, teacher! Come look!”

One student pulls you away from your bad attempt at a portrait of Grumpy Cat, the greatest cat to have walked the earth. You walk over her and she points out something she drew on the cement.

“Look! It’s you and Mr. Hobi!” she exclaims in excitement while jumping up and down.

Sure enough there are two clumsily drawn stick figures. You assume the one with glasses is Hoseok since he’s donned a pair of round glasses today, paired nicely with his red flannel. You applaud her artwork, thanking her for drawing you so nicely, when another student comes up from behind you and squints at their peer’s drawing.

“That looks like Mr. Hobi and his girlfriend!” they say.

“No! That’s not his girlfriend. That’s Ms. Y/N!” she stomps in defiance.

The two students argue until they both yell for Hoseok to come over. Their loud commotion gains many of the other student’s attention and they all seem to watch on with curiosity. He casts a puzzled look at your direction to which you shrug, not entirely sure what your students are trying to prove. When he’s standing beside you they both shoot rapid fire questions.

“Mr. Hobi, who does this look like?”

“No, no! Mr. Hobi, who do you think these are?”

“Do they look like you and Ms. Y/N?”

“No, do they look like you and your girlfriend?”

“Do you even have a girlfriend?”

The other students have somehow flocked around you during this squabble. They giggle and you hear a unison of audible gasps in approval and join in on the questioning.

“Yeah! Do you? Do you?”

Hoseok stands there like a deer caught in headlights, not knowing what to do. His eyes flicker over to you, silently begging for help. Both your students are normally well behaved and usually do well not to ask personal questions about information you don’t voluntarily share. You can’t fault them for forgetting to be polite in the heat of the moment. They are children, after all, so you do your best to redirect them.

“Hey hey, why don’t we let Mr. Hobi speak before you ask any more questions, okay? Remember what Mr. Slug says?” 

They slouch over and robotically recite Mr. Slug’s motto about letting other people take a turn to talk but their eyes still glimmer with hope. It’s clear Hoseok doesn’t know what to say. As much as you want to laugh at his skittish stance, you know it won’t do to leave your fellow teacher hanging. The laughs can come later when the kids are gone.

“Alright, kids why don’t we—” You start to change the subject to shift their attention elsewhere when a student behind you speaks up.

“Ms. Y/N you have to help us!”

The other students join in and echo the plea to find out who Mr. Hobi’s secret girlfriend is. You cup your hands around your face so no one can see you mouthing to Hoseok—earning several groans from your students—and exchange silent communication with him. The easy smile on his face tells you that it’s okay to humor your students today, so you begin to laugh with your students and egg him on.

“Mr. Hobi, please, please, will you tell us?” you ask, putting on a half hearted puppy face and clasp your hands together to appease your students.

You swallow back a snicker at how his face morphs into embarrassment. So maybe this isn’t what he thought you’d pull, but his reaction was worth it. You tease him and poke at his reddening cheeks.

“Ahh, you don’t need to do that,” he mumbles from his pouty lips.

You pull away before he can snatch your hands. Your students laugh at your antics and chant “Mr. Hobi has a cruuush!” You chant along with them in good fun, giggling at your friend’s increasingly flushed face. He seems to finally find his senses and holds his hands up in defeat.

“Alright, alright! Calm down and I’ll tell you who she is.”

The students jump in place, cheering for their victory. His gaze lingers on you, but you think nothing of it, instead donning a shit eating grin. The children waddle in even closer, eager to hear what he has to say.

“Okay, well she’s this really, really pretty lady who likes cats a lot.”

“Ooh, like Ms. Y/N’s cat she drew?” one student interrupts and points to the striped cat you have yet to finish.

“Mhm! Just like her cat.”

“What else? What else?”

“She also doesn’t like coffee at all and makes fun of me for drinking it.” You raise your eyebrows and nod your head in approval. Whoever this lady is, you like her already.

“What does coffee taste like?”

It’s clear he didn’t expect that question and fumbles with trying to explain what coffee is to five and six year olds. You rub at your cheeks, aching from having been smiling for so long. It’s impossible not to smile when you’re around Hoseok. Simply being near him has always been enough to get you to smile.

“Tell us more about your girlfriend please!”

You hadn’t expected them to still be after that and you laugh at their boldness.

“Yeah, c’mon. Who’s this secret lady who hates coffee as much as I do?” you ask cheekily.

“Ah,” he looks away and scratches at his nose. “Well she’s—” 

Just as he’s about to reveal more about this mystery woman, the dismissal bell rings. He clicks his tongue and cackles at the disappointed faces all around him.

“Oh well! Guess you’ll have to wait ‘til next time, kids. Let’s get back to class.”

The students moan and groan but they comply and head back to the classroom to be picked up and go home.

It’s become routine to walk out to your cars together any time your classes are paired. Today is no different. Hoseok waits for you by the door, hair tousled from running after students and long sleeves rolled up his arm, revealing a black watch wrapped around his delicate wrist. As he fiddles with his phone, the rings on his fingers glint under the afternoon rays that sneak through the classroom door sidelight.

“You took your glasses off,” you nod your head at the glasses now tucked inside his shirt pocket. “They looked good on you.”

“Ha. Nice as they are, wearing glasses for too long hurts my ears.”

“Aw, poor baby,” you coo and reach forward to rub his ears. 

He grumbles and swats your hand away. He pushes open the door and motions for you to go first. You think back to the earlier fiasco with the children and wonder how is he still single? Having known him for many years prior to working together, you remember many interested suitors, both men and women alike, trying their hand at wooing him. You can’t think of a single person who doesn’t like him, or at least have a begrudging respect for him.

Outside of your job, you also know he’s the life of the party when you meet up with your friends. Your mind briefly wanders to what it would look like if you were coupled with him. Maybe you’d drive home together and wind down after a long day at work. Then you’d change out of your work clothes, cook a meal together and dance while you’re waiting, maybe even cuddle in bed together until you fall asleep. You’re thinking dangerous thoughts and you take a mental note to chastise your inner conscience when you’re alone.

“So,” you clear your throat and pretend like you hadn’t just imagined a particular fantasy about the man walking beside you, “since the kids brought it up, now I’m actually really curious.”

“Oh man, not you too,” he groans and rubs a hand over his face.

“Hoseok, come on! We’ve been friends for years now and you know what, I don’t remember you ever dating? At least not seriously. Is there anyone you’re interested in these days?” You see the hesitance on his face but you press on. “You know me, Hobi. You know I won’t tell anyone. Not even Yoonji.”

Yoonji, half of the reason why you and he are friends in the first place. The other half being her twin brother, Yoongi. You met Yoonji in your first year of university, and through her you met the crazy bunch you now call your friends. Hoseok and Yoongi had been friends long before college. Once you and Hoseok became acquainted through the twins, you’d bonded over the mutual suffering dealt by them. It had been easy to get along with him, and it didn’t take long at all to move up from acquaintances to friends. You were more than happy when you found out you both had been hired and placed at the same school after university.

He shakes his head at your request. “Nah, you wouldn’t know her anyway.”

“Okay, see! So there’s no problem in me knowing! ‘Cause I don’t know her.” You bump shoulders with him and tug at his arm. “Look, if you really don’t want to tell me, I’ll drop it. I promise. But I really am curious about the person who’s stolen Mr. Hobi’s heart.”

You’ve stopped in front of his car and now there’s nothing to distract him from your pleading face. You do your best not to look like a wide-eyed crazed cat lady and more like the pleading Puss in Boots. You hope it’s working.

“You really wanna know?”

“I do! But only if you’re comfortable telling me.”

“Promise you won’t run away when you find out?”

You’re puzzled by the shift in his demeanor, in the way his voice has dropped to nearly a whisper, but you nod anyway and extend your pinky finger out to him. He brings up his hand to wrap his pinky around yours. You’re taken aback by how seriously he’s taking this, but you wouldn’t do anything to betray his trust. He waits for a few seconds, then nods, seemingly satisfied and stuffs his hands inside his jean pockets.

His eyes are downcast and with a heavy exhale he says quietly, “It’s you.”

You blink. Then you laugh. And you can’t stop laughing. The nervous energy rolls off of you in peals of inappropriate laughter. It isn’t until you see he’s frowning—an expression that doesn’t cross his face often—that you try to reign in your nerves and calm down. 

“You got jokes Hoseok!” you say, trying to lighten the sudden sour mood.

“I’m not trying to be funny. I—I like you.”

Your residual giggling immediately subsides when you realize he really is serious. A wave of confusing emotions wash over you. You’re shocked, you’re confused, and you’re in denial. This can’t be happening. Your mouth opens and closes repeatedly as your brain flips through your dictionary of words to try to understand what you’ve just heard.

Frustration spills out of his lips when you remain mute. “It’s you! I want you! It’s been you for years. Is that not what you wanted to hear? Are you satisfied now that you know?”

Wait. What? 

Your mind still hasn’t caught up and all you can do is stare at him. You catch a quiet "fuck” escaping his lips as he roughly rakes his fingers through his already messed hair. He gives you one last glance before he dashes into his car. Seeing him leave finally gets your tongue working.

“Wait.” You try to grab his arm but he’s already shut the car door. “Wait Hobi, I—I’m sorry. No, no wait please!”

He drives off without a single glance back.

You have never felt like the shittiest person to exist on this planet until now. You survey the lot to make sure no one witnessed this scene and are relieved to find no one. You scurry into your car, forcing back the hot tears that want to come out. 

You don’t deserve to cry after being so cruel. Even if it was unintentional. You scramble for your phone as soon as you’re strapped in. The screen immediately unlocks once your face is in view and you swipe on your best friend’s number starred at the top of your contacts list.

Yoonji picks up after the third ring and her voice drawls out through the speaker, “Did Hobi finally spill the beans, ‘cause thank fucking god.“

You briefly register that you can hear Yoongi in the background talking to another man whose distressed voice sounds vaguely familiar. Blinking your tears away, it takes a second for Yoonji’s words to sink in and you are, for the second time today, at a loss for words. You’re out of the parking lot when your voice finds itself but your brain has yet to catch up, still stuck on those three words that came out of Hoseok’s mouth.

"Wait, wait, wait. Yoonji. You knew? About him? But—wait. How did you—why didn’t you know—er, tell me?” Your free hand flies wildly in the air as you drive.

“He’s not exactly subtle about his feelings for you, you know. Do you not remember last month when you complained about wanting milk tea and he immediately dropped everything to personally drive to a shop 10 minutes away to get you one—a large one, might I add!—with ‘for miss beautiful’ written on the side of the cup?” 

“He does that for everyone,” you mumble into your phone.

“No he does not. You’re just a dumb squirrel and apparently he’s attracted to dumb squirrels.” You don’t need to see her to know she’s pacing mid rant and examining her freshly manicured nails like the princess she is. You wish you knew how she had the funds and time to repaint her nails every other week.

“How come I never noticed?” you ask, pointedly ignoring the squirrel jab.

“Again, you’re a dumb squirrel—”

“What am I gonna do? I didn’t mean to make him feel bad about confessing to me. I feel like such an ass,” you whine into your phone, once again ignoring her insult. You roll your eyes at the fake sounds of her humming in thought. She enjoys making you antsy beyond belief way too much.

“Yoonji! Stop teasing me please!” Your face contorts into the best puppy face you could muster, and you’re sure the driver next to you is giving you a weird look.

“Ew, gross. I can feel your puppy eyes on me 70 miles away. Stop it.”

Worth it.

“Well first of all,” she begins, “you were an ass. How would you feel if you confessed to someone and the first thing they do is laugh? That was shitty of you, babe!”

If you weren’t driving, you would have hung your head in shame. “Yeah, I know…”

“Mhm. At least you know.” As much as she loves you, Hoseok’s her friend too. You don’t blame her for not comforting you. “Anyway, you could go about this several ways. One, let him down easy. Or two, open your eyes and realize you feel the same way. Or three, avoid him for the rest of your life and run away to a convent to make certain you’ll never see him again.”

You whine again, just as pathetically as the first time. “You’re not helping! Those are all impossible!”

“Fine, fine.” She sighs into the phone. “So answer this for me then. Do you like him?”

And that there is the million dollar question. Do you like him? You’ve never given yourself the luxury of seeing him in that way. He was obviously a very attractive man with an equally captivating personality. Yes, he may have made your heart flutter at least a dozen times in the time you’ve known him. Okay, so maybe more than a dozen… 

And yes, you may have indulged in one or two fantasies about what it would be like to date him but you never allowed your mind to wander farther than a few innocent thoughts. You valued your friendship with him far too much to divulge in selfish daydreams. You reveal as much to your friend.

“Babe, all I can tell you is that knowing Hoseok, he’s probably at home wallowing in despair and embarrassment and will probably hate himself for making you uncomfortable. Aaand drinking himself silly because he’s stupid.” 

You hear Yoongi snort in the background.

“B-but I’m not—”

“So go tell him yourself then!”

“Ah Yoonjiii..” you whine... again.

“Figure it out, bitch! I gotta finish painting my nails now. Love youuu!” She hangs up before you can wail her name once more and you’re left to stew in your feelings for the rest of the evening.

The following day, Hoseok doesn’t show up for work. Or the next. By the third day, you’re tempted to ask your supervisor if he still even works here. Okay, so maybe you’re overreacting a little bit. Maybe Yoongi would know if he was still alive, but then he’d pry into why you’re asking in the first place and you’re not ready to answer any questions. 

You’ve just gotten home and your shoulders droop heavily. You have yet to receive any news or texts from Hoseok since he left you in the parking lot that day. It didn’t help that the kids were exceptionally testy today.

Your mind is riddled with worry, but rather than for yourself, you worry about him. Actually if you’re being honest, you’ve been thinking about him endlessly since then. You hope he’s taking care of himself. You want to apologize. You need to apologize. This realization is what helps you to make your decision. 

With a sudden blaze of courage, you grab your purse off the couch and head out to the bus stop just a street down your place. It takes about thirty minutes with one bus transfer that leads you directly to his apartment complex. You’ve been there many times and while you know the route by heart, this visit feels like a whole new experience.

Your feet know exactly where to go and how many steps to take, leading you out the bus, into the apartment complex, and up the elevator until you’re standing in front of his door. You stare at his door and a brief flash of doubt rings alarms in your head. You ring the bell before you can overthink your actions. A few seconds later his voice chimes out from the speaker box.

“Who is it?” 

His voice sounds very tired. Has he not been sleeping well?

“Hello?” He tries again.

You lightly slap your cheeks, bringing yourself back. You weren’t even aware you had frozen up.

“Hey, it’s me. Um, Y/N.”

No answer.

"Can we—can we talk?”

Again, you are met with silence.

Your fingers twiddle with the hem of your shirt, unsure of your next move. You came all the way here on complete impulse. You don’t do well when you don’t have a plan. And right now, you have no plan, which is ironic, considering you’re a teacher for young children who require a level of spontaneity every day. 

You’re itching to escape but your feet remain wooden against the pavement. You bend your head down and glare at your legs, willing them to move goddammit. You nearly find the will to finally bolt when you hear the door creak open. Your head whips up and you immediately seek out his face. You come eye to eye with a disheveled looking Hoseok hiding behind his door. His bleary, sunken eyes follow you warily as you take a step forward and blurt out his name, but before you can get another word in he addresses you.

“Look, I don’t need a pity party okay?” He pauses to slink further away from the already small opening through the door. “Especially from you. It was a mistake and I’m sorry that happened. I shouldn’t have told you like that and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. That was a bad move.” 

You open your mouth and breathe in, ready to counter his allegation but he puts a hand up, an unspoken request to continue talking uninterrupted. “I just need a few more days to clear my mind. I can’t promise I’ll be okay soon but—”

You interrupt him anyway.

“I’m not saying no Hobi,” your voice is meek but you mentally pat yourself on the back for finally finding your voice.

“Wha—what? What did you… er, what do you mean?”

“I,” you pause to collect your thoughts but alas, when you have no plan your brain goes haywire and your mouth rambles away without your permission. “Well, first I want to apologize for forcing you to talk and for not taking you seriously. I really didn’t mean to disregard your feelings or make fun of you. You didn’t make me uncomfortable at all actually! It’s just that… no one’s ever—I mean, I didn’t think you saw me in that way and, well, I mean I always thought you were cute. You’re so handsome and dreamy and you’re funny and when you smile your eyes crinkle into little moons and your hearts a smile. I mean! Your smile, it makes a heart and I love it so much and I, um, but I didn't—I mean I don’t know why you even like me in the first place.” You laugh nervously, anxiety rising up inside you like bile at not being able to get the words out right.

A warm hand wraps around yours and you’re bewildered. He’s opened the door just big enough to let his hand out to hold yours. He’s the one hurting and yet he reaches out to comfort you when you showed the slightest unease. If anything, he should be lashing out at you right now. The warmth in his eyes tells you he has no intention of doing that. His thoughtfulness and care towards you, even after you hurt him, causes your heart to stutter and you fight on despite your nerves.

“I don’t know what I’m doing and I’m still not sure about my feelings but I’m willing to try? If you are too? I don’t really know how to do this, but—but I’m willing to explore whatever this could be with you. And I’m not saying you have to consider my feelings because that isn’t fair to you. You can absolutely tell me to fuck off and I won’t bother you again. Um, yeah I think—I think that’s it.”

God, you can’t wait to get home so you can punch your pillows for rambling so much! You stand there, staring at the side of the door so it looks like you’re looking at him but you’re really not. Your halfhearted smile slowly dwindles into a tight lipped smile the longer he stays silent and you’re wondering if now’s a good time to skedaddle.

“Okay, got it. I’m sorry Hoseok—” You turn your back to him, completely prepared to walk away with your tail tucked.

“Can I hug you?”

You whirl around and blink owlishly at him and stutter embarrassingly so. “What?”

“Can I hug you?”

“I mean, y-yeah? I guess?”

You’re dying internally over how your voice squeaks and inflects into a higher, unsure tone. He pushes the door open and pulls you by your hands into his arms, effectively drawing you away from your internal conflict. The feeling of his warmth around you sends your heart into an unfamiliar tangle of emotions. 

Hoseok has always been the best bear hugger. He believed hugs revealed what a person was like, and his preference for full hugs definitely conveyed his desire for physical contact with the people he loved. This hug, though, was different in the way that he held you so close to him, with his face nuzzled in your hair. You breathe in his scent that’s brought you comfort throughout the years and wrap your arms around his waist. You feel his arms tighten and pull you closer into him. You pray the stuttering heartbeat felt between the two of you isn’t only yours. 

After a long minute of silence—which somehow felt like one hour and one second all at once—he murmurs close to your ear, “If this is you giving me the okay, then I’m not gonna hold back anymore and I’m going to pursue you honestly. And… hopefully show you that my feelings for you are sincere.”

You let out an involuntary squeak much to your horror and hide your face into his chest, not trusting yourself to speak. You feel the shake of his shoulders as he laughs, the puff of breath tickling the back of your neck, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. He eventually pulls away from your hug but instead of letting go, his hands reach down to hold your own and he looks down at you with shining eyes. His face paints a tender gaze and the combination of how he smiles at you has you bashful so instead, you focus on the way his thumb rubs against yours. It only sends your heart into further overdrive.

“It’s late.” His voice is soft as he speaks to you. "Did you drive here?”

You shake your head no. Then you gasp and tilt your head in mild bewilderment.

Okay but why didn’t you drive? Are you dumb or are you dumb? You try to convince yourself you took the bus to save Mother Earth. Not because you were in such a hurry to see him that you forgot you have a car.

“Let me drive you home then,” he says and squeezes your hands.

“No, no it’s okay. I can get a taxi!”

He shakes his head in disapproval. “I can’t let you do that. It’s dark out now and I’d feel much better if I take you myself.”

“Hobi, I’ll be fine. I promise!” His brows furrow and you bring your arm up to flex your bicep. “See, look! I’m a strong girl.”

He’s entirely unimpressed and rolls his eyes. “Look, either you let me take you home or you’ll have to sleep over tonight. I don’t want you going home by yourself.”

“Eh?” Well, you certainly weren’t expecting that. You’re a deer in headlights thinking about a night alone with him. Nope. No way. Nu-uh. Vetoed. You won’t survive. Especially not after your almost-kind-of-but-not-really confession. 

You sigh in defeat and bow your head.

“Fiiine. You can take me home, I guess.”

He grins and while you’re pouting that he won this trivial argument, your heart is whistling a happy tune at seeing a smile grace his face once again. You wait outside while he grabs his wallet and keys. When he reemerges from inside his house, he gestures to his left.

“Ready to go?”

“Mhm!” You motion for him to lead the way and you follow after him.

The car ride back to your place is quiet, save for the low ambiance of his music playing on the stereo, but it’s a comfortable silence. You have more questions you want to ask. There’s still a lot you want to know, but you figure you’ve both had enough of a surprise tonight. You trust that there will be many opportunities in the near future to ask.

Once he’s parked his car outside your apartment, you turn to thank him and bid him goodnight only to be met with an empty seat. He’s already outside, waiting for you.

“Hobi you didn’t have to come out!” you protest as you exit the vehicle. “It’s cold!”

He only hums in response and walks with you to the front entrance. You’re half expecting a goodbye hug, considering he’s out here with you, and you’re surprised to feel your chest swirl in disappointment that he does neither of those. Instead, he takes a step away from you and the words that leave his mouth bring you a comfort you didn’t know you needed.

“We’ll take this slow, yeah? I don’t expect you to know how you feel by tomorrow or even next month. I’ve waited this long. I can wait a little longer.”

He strokes your cheek, lingering in front of you for a few more seconds. He leaves you with his touch etched onto your cheek. You fall asleep with the sole thought that you wouldn’t mind falling for Jung Hoseok.

The following morning feels like a daze and you’re on autopilot for the rest of the week. Before you know it, it’s your biweekly get-together with your gang. You’d gained a chaotic but solid group of friends in your college days. While the group has slowly decreased over the past two years after graduating, your bond is still as strong, even if you don’t meet as often as you used to.

It’s Hoseok’s turn to host this time and you’re freaking out. You recount every conversation you’ve had with him this past week at school. The both of you made a point to only talk about school related topics, very obviously ignoring the elephant in the room. The only thing that’s changed is the rate of daily text messages between the two of you. You now awaken to “good morning texts.” Throughout the day, you send each other “this reminded me of you” texts and end each night with “how was your day?” texts. Your heart is slowly becoming conditioned to jump any time his name appears on your phone screen. Today is no different. Your heart is racing at the thought of finally seeing Hoseok outside of work.

[Y&Y’s Minions Group Chat]

Taetae: aye bro heads up im bringing some juice w me

Taetae: yknow. for us nonalcoholics.

Hobibi: 👍

Yoonji(min’s Wife): weak ass bitch 🙄

Taetae: Shut up or im not bringing jimin with me 🥱

Min Suga: she just punched me cause i laughed man wtf

Taetae: 🤣🤣🤣🤣

You: LOOOLLL it’s what you deserve

You: also tq for bringing juice taetae 🤧 idk if i can handle another of jimins mystery concoctions 😩

Taetae: that’s what you got hobi for right?

Hobibi: Exactly ;)

Min Suga: right. like he can hold his alcohol????

Hobibi: also can yall actually come on time so we can start our movie early?

Hobibi: dude i’ve gotten better at drinking tghank you very much

Yoonji(min’s Wife): sorry what im jared 19

Min Suga: she lies. shes putting makeup on for Park

[IMG_2831 delivered]

You: lmaaaoooo you got called out babe!!!

Yoonji(min’s Wife): fuck you min yoongi. find ur own ride there bitch <3

You snort reading through the messages. One day someone’s gonna fight and you have no doubt Yoonji will be one of the contenders. You’ve already resigned yourself to the role of her babysitter, knowing full well you’ll be tending to her every whim and command the day it happens as well as the following day of her recovery. Your phone pings again. 

It’s a separate text message from Hoseok.

Hobibi: i can’t wait to see you beautiful :)

You gasp audibly and your face heats up instantly. You’re grateful there’s no one around to hear you. What should you text back? You’re still unfamiliar with the Hobi who flirts. He is flirting, right? You fumble with your phone, heart racing a mile a minute, texting a (hopefully) flirty reply back when Yoonji’s winking selca takes over your screen. You drag your finger across the Accept button and her voice drawls out from your speaker.

“I’m heeerre!! Come outside so we can get wasted tonight!”

You snort and hang up without replying back to her. As soon as you plop into the passenger seat she thrusts a bottle of alcohol into your hands.

“Drink.”

Apparently, her idea of calming you down is with some pregame booze. 

It doesn’t help.

When you arrive at his apartment, you attach yourself to Yoonji’s back, but she was having none of that. Her shared telepathic powers with her equally chaotic twin brother draw them together as soon as they’re in the same room. You squeak at having been left behind and follow her, intent on hiding behind her the whole night. 

In hindsight, maybe you shouldn’t have blindly followed after your friend because the person accompanying Yoongi was none other than his best friend who also happened to be the man you were trying to avoid… which wouldn’t have worked anyway considering this was his home. Yoonji drags you out from behind her and you’re given no chance to pretend like you weren’t hiding. 

You shoot daggers into her boobs, praying that her boobs will swell and explode right in front of Jimin for outing you like this. You clear your throat and straighten out your shirt, then exchange greetings with the two men, feigning nonchalance. You don’t mean to but your eyes flicker down Hoseok’s figure. His hair looks freshly dried and curls around his face in the most beautiful way. A thin blue crew neck sweater hangs off his shoulders and hugs his torso just right, but when do his clothes not fit him well? It’s cut low enough to just tease the outline of his collarbones and it doesn’t help you with your already heightened nerves. You gulp and lower your gaze. For some godforsaken reason, he decided it was a good idea to roll the sleeves up and expose his forearms. You’re on your way past his hips when—

“You look beautiful tonight.”

Oh dear, did he catch you staring? 

His voice draws your gaze back to him and you find him looking right at you with a shy smile that flutters your heart. A compliment from him would usually have elicited a laugh and a “thank you Hobi.” Now, it evokes a stutter and a burning face. It’s a change the twins catch onto quickly. They exchange knowing glances which neither you nor Hoseok see, too busy staring at each other.

And then you’re colliding into each other.

“Oops!” Yoonji cackles and raises her glass to her brother.

"My bad. My hand slipped.” Yoongi raises his own and clinks his drink with hers. They take a sip and completely ignore the two frozen statues beside them.

“Hey, what do you say we go say hi to the soulmates?”

“Right on my sweetums. Let’s go find your loverboy.”

“You’re disgusting and also you’re wrong.”

Yoongi forcefully links arms with his sister and they shuffle away still bickering, meanwhile you and Hoseok are a blushing mess, locked in each other’s arms. His hands burn pressed against your lower back and you pull yourself away from him. You ignore the way your body screams at you for leaving his warmth. Your eyes flit around, looking at everything except for him. And then it lands on a sliver of skin peeking out behind his sweater that had risen up in this blunder.

Wait. This is bad. Don’t focus on that. 

Focus on your annoying best friend. Yeah… this is all her fault.

“Sorry Yoonji’s such a pain in the ass.”

“Understatement of the year.” He snorts and readjusts his sweater back down. You bite back a pitiful whine and suddenly you have no idea who you’ve become.

“They’re both menaces. Remind me never to have them in the same room again.“

You laugh at the truth in his words and then it’s back to a dead silence. One you’re not used to, especially not with him. He rubs the side of his arm and clears his throat.

"Um, well, you know, if being here makes you uncomfortable it’s okay to leave. My feelings won’t be hurt. Or I can just, I don’t know, not talk to you tonight? If that’s what you want?”

You wince at his offer.

“No!” you say immediately, wanting to remedy his misinterpretation of the nervous waves radiating off you. “I wanted to come! I… well, as nervous as I am, I wanted to see you?”

He lets out a dry laugh. “Oh, right. I could definitely tell from the way you hid behind Yoonji as soon as you got here.”

You force out a weak laugh at having been caught. Should you apologize or yeet yourself out of this situation? Thankfully, he makes the decision for you.

“Why don’t we go say hi to Tae and Jimin? Since you just got here.”

You swallow the apology that hangs on your tongue and nod slowly. You walk in silence to where the rest of the gang is gathered. Yoongi and Jimin are engrossed in a conversation about the latest EP released by their favorite duo RM and JK. Meanwhile Yoonji is making very no-so-subtle heart eyes at Jimin while Taehyung is chatting away about something she obviously has no interest in.

You’ve known Jimin for a few years and he’s only just started coming along this past year to your meetups with Taehyung, his childhood friend. He integrated so well into your little group and you all were quick to adopt him and dub him as the Resident Giggly for how beautiful his laughs were. His bubbling personality also somehow snatched the Resident Shady’s heart, despite her always denying it. You decide to do your friend a solid and save her from Taehyung’s ramblings. It’s definitely not to distract yourself from the Resident Smiles beside you.

“Hey Taetae!” you call out to the broad shouldered man who turns around, bright eyed and smiley. You notice a cup in his hand that you hope is just juice. He doesn’t drink often but when he does… Well, you certainly won’t want to be present.

“Y/N you’re here! Finally someone who will listen to me!” He pulls you into a side hug.

You laugh. “That’s ‘cause she’s too busy making goo goo eyes at—oof!”

Yoonji shoves Taehyung who still has his arms draped around your shoulder. He trips and sends you nearly toppling over as well. An arm wraps around your waist to steady you. Hoseok pulls you to his side, a safe distance away from the two rowdy ones.

“If you both know what’s good for you, you will shut up or else!” she hisses between her teeth. The blush growing on her cheeks tells you otherwise, though.

“I love you too, Yoonji poo!” Taehyung teases and pinches her cheeks.

She slaps his hands away, scowling. Then her attention redirects to you and you don’t like the way her eyes have turned alight. She nudges Taeyung and nods her head at you and Hoseok. He looks at the pair of you and his lips turn up into a sinister smirk.

“Well, well, well. Wouldya look at that?” You don’t like that both his and Yoonji’s smug faces are now focused on you. “So anyone wanna tell me when you two became a thing?”

You and Hoseok share a confused albeit nervous look. It’s then you realize how close you are to each other and you don’t hate the close proximity.

“You do realize you have your arm around her, right hyung?”

It’s not until he points it out that Hoseok realizes he never let go of you. The arm that rested around your hips tears away from your body and falls back limply to his side. Yoonji snorts at how fast he let you go and you try your best to hide your disappointment, calling upon all the times you’ve had to school your face of irritation at work.  You note that he doesn’t move away though, and his hand ghosts yours with every breath he takes.

“Don’t be mean Tae,” you scold him and push him away.

“It’s not like that. We’re not a couple.” Hoseok’s strong protest wavers at the last word and the way his ears redden don’t do well to support his claim. Your face flushes at his word choice.

“Who’s not a couple?” Jimin pops in, hands propped around Taehyung’s shoulder.

Taehyung eyes Yoonji and says with a smirk, “You and Yoo—mmph!”

Yoonji pounces on Taehyung and slaps a hand over his mouth. In typical Jimin fashion, he falls to his knees, laughing at their bizarre antics. As much as those two clashed, you knew they loved each other a ridiculous amount. You tug at Hoseok’s shirt sleeve and ask if he wants to get a drink.

He nods in agreement. “Yeah, let’s go before they strike again.”

The two of you share a laugh and head into the kitchen where two glass bowls are filled to the brim with dark liquids. The smell of alcohol reeks from the one nearest you and you nearly gag.

“Did Jimin make this?” you scowl and point accusingly at the punch bowl with a dark red liquid sparkling dangerously. You hope alcohol doesn’t spread through air particles because if it does, the other punch bowl is surely spiked by now.

“What did you expect?” He chuckles and hands you a glass cup.

You grab the ladle laying beside what you hope is the nonalcoholic drink and pour into your cup.

“Hey, so um… about earlier,” he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck, “er, sorry about that. I didn’t even know I was still... touching you.”

“Ah, no it’s okay. I didn’t know either actually.” You take in a breath and brace yourself for what you’re about to admit out loud, “To be honest, I kind of liked it.”

You hear him take in a sharp inhale after your confession and you wonder who’s blushing harder. Probably you. You hand the ladle to him and hold your breath when his fingers graze yours.

“I’ll keep that in mind next time.” He recovers quickly and winks at you. Your recovery rate is much slower and his wink only sets you back further. “So, um, I’ll let you catch up with everyone. I gotta go set up for the movie anyway. I’ll see you later, okay?”

He briefly reaches his hand to brush against your cheek, then leaves you alone, starstruck in the kitchen, to be the good host that he is. The rest of the night goes off without any other hitches. Plenty of laughter is shared between the lot of you. Jimin may have tried to spike the literal juice bowl a few times, but both Taehyung and Yoongi dragged him away each time. 

Throughout the night, you find yourself unconsciously scanning the room for Hoseok only to be met with a pair of brown eyes already looking at you. Each time you make eye contact, you both blush and look away at having been caught staring. Each time it happens, your friends turn around to stick their fingers in their open mouths and fake a gag.

You’re on popcorn duty as the evening begins to settle down for the “movie” part of movie night to finally start. You emerge from the kitchen with three large bowls with freshly popped and buttered popcorn. You sigh with resignation when you see only two available empty seats. One next to Hoseok on the love seat and one in between Yoonji and Jimin. You absolutely are not ready to be in such close proximity with Hoseok for the next two hours, but you also don’t want to cock block Yoonji. 

Although she’d never admit it to anyone, you knew she harbored a secret crush on Jimin. Anyone else outside your group and they wouldn’t know any better, but every one of you except the object of her affections knew those faux mean jabs and rosy cheeks were reserved for Jimin and Jimin only. You have a suspicion that he felt the same way about her with the way he always seemed to apparate in whatever room she’s in just to giggle at whatever she says or does. You can’t wait for the day they both stop toeing the line and confess to each other.

You pass out two of the three bowls of popcorn and peek over at Yoonji and Jimin. Jimin’s leaning over the empty seat, phone outstretched to show something to Yoonji. Their voices are hushed but you can see her lips curled into a dopey smile. Right, no cock blocking. Your gaze flickers to where Hoseok is seated. Okay girl, you got this. No time to be a chicken or Taehyung and Yoonji will never let you live it down.

Your leg collides with his when you sit down and your poor heart is once again fluttering. Should you let it stay there or should you move your leg? Why are you suddenly so self conscious about every move you make around him? The answer was obvious but let a girl stay in denial, please.

Unbeknownst to you, the man sitting next to you was going through his own inner turmoil. Should he act like his usual self? Should he be chill? Should he try to flirt? He wants to put his arm around you, but what if he came on too strong and scared you off? Before the both of you noticed, the film was already ten minutes in, popcorn in your hands untouched.

“Hey, Hobi! Y/N! If you two aren’t gonna eat your popcorn, pass it on!” Taehyung shouts over the movie with a mouth full of popcorn.

He pulls you out of your thoughts and you grimace at the way the light from the television makes the butter grease around his mouth shimmer in the dark room.

“You’re disgusting. Swallow your food before you speak, you heathen. And for the record, we aren’t sharing.”

Hoseok grabs the bowl from you, smushes it into his chest, and grabs a large handful shoving it into his mouth as if to prove a point. Several pieces of popcorn fall out of his hand back into the bowl. In his haste, he gets grease all over his outer mouth. Your mind dares to flash a dirty thought about the lubricant on his lips and you cup a hand over your mouth. 

Oh god. 

Your brain really just went there. 

You make a point to ignore the way your body heats up and instead reach over to wipe the oil off his mouth with a swipe of your thumb. He looks at you quizzically and when you lock eyes you both freeze. His eyes grow comically wide, his jaw locked mid chew.

Hold on. Did you just touch Hoseok’s mouth? With your thumb?

“Gross.” Taehyung grumbles at the sight of you and turns away to focus back on the movie.

You pull away quickly and shift in your seat. “S-sorry your mouth was dirty and, um, well, sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. Um… thank you.” He wipes off the remainder of what you miss with the back of his hand and offers you a sheepish smile. And with that, you fall into another silence, popcorn once again forgotten. 

Great. Back to square one.

By the time the end credits roll out, everyone is dead asleep save for you who remained wide awake thanks to your very imaginative and hyperactive brain. You decide to disregard the awkward cloud that hung over you and Hoseok tonight to figure out all your sleeping arrangements. It isn’t unusual for everyone to crash at the host’s place, drunk or sober, so it shouldn’t be too much trouble. You arch your back off the couch and stretch your tense body, letting out a soft moan as your muscles loosen up.

“Hey, Hobi?”

When you don’t get a response you look over to find him leaned against the couch with his eyes closed and lips scrunched in a small pout. His chest raises rhythmically and you feel bad for having to wake him. You’re nearly tempted to push back his hair to get a better look at his sleeping face. You scoot closer to him and shake him by the shoulder while softly calling his name. He jolts slightly and his eyes flutter open, scanning the room until they fall on you. Your breath hitches in your throat seeing his eyes slowly light up with recognition.

“Hobi,” you try again, voice quiet so as not to disturb him, still in a state of slumber. Your hand rests on his arm and you can’t find it in you to remove it.

He calls out your name, tenderly, carefully. You bite your lip to hide the way it wants to curl into a smile at the way he whispers your name. You don’t realize how close you’d gotten to him until his hand moves a mere inch to rest atop yours. You twist your hand up until your palms are touching. Your fingers instinctively curl around the slots between his own. You feel his fingers twitch but neither of you makes a move to actually embrace, instead reveling in the way both of you vibrate with warmth.

“Sorry I woke you. I just figured you wouldn’t appreciate having everyone drooling all over your couch and carpet tonight.”

He shifts in his seat so that he’s sitting upright and squints at the fallen figures scattered around the room. Then he shrugs.

“Who gives a fuck. Let them sleep there.”

You giggle at his remark and nod in understanding. It would only be too much work to try to move them and you definitely did not want to deal with a drunk and sleepy Yoongi.

“Why don’t you go sleep in your room then, and I’ll see you in the morning?” You take the popcorn bowl laying haphazardly on his lap and set it on the coffee table in front of you. 

“No, no. You go sleep there. I’ll sleep here tonight.”

You scoff. “You don’t need to be a gentleman, my dude. This is your house, it’s late, and we both need to sleep.”

“You’re exactly right, it's my house. My house, my rules. And I say that you’re sleeping on my bed tonight. I won’t let you take the couch.”

“Hoseok!”

“Do you want to share it with me then?”

Your words die in your mouth and you gape at him. He nods and says, “That’s what I thought.”

“Oh my god, you are insufferable. Fine, take me to your room. Wait.” Your ear begins to burn as soon as you blurt out that sentence, the insinuation not lost on you. Oh god, why did you have to say it like that? “I mean, uh, er, I’ll just go by myself.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. C’mon, I’ll take you.”

If he’s flustered by your request, he doesn’t show it. Instead he helps you up from the love seat and leads the way to his room. Despite having been to his house many times, you’d never actually seen his bedroom. There was never a need to go in there and now the first time you’re going in is after you find out he likes you. It’s a lot to process.

His room is a lot cleaner than you thought it’d be. The first thing to catch your eye is a shelf filled with a mixture of figurines and music albums. You appreciate that he hasn’t abandoned his likes and hobbies for the sake of appearing more mature. Beside it is a desk littered with books and paper scrap, presumably for work. In the left corner of his room rests his bed; a thin wool blanket lies unmade at one side.

“Sorry my room is so messy. I didn’t think anyone would be sleeping in here tonight,” he says as he rummages through his drawers.

“If you call this messy, you don’t wanna see my room,” you mutter.

He says nothing back until he finds what he’s looking for. He calls your name and tosses a large shirt and gym short your way.

“You can change into those. I think they’ll be comfier than what you have on right now.” He turns away and scratches the back of his neck. “Um, I’ll, uh, let you do your thing and, um, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Thanks, Hobi.” You reach out for his hand and squeeze it. He’s blushing again. You like it when he blushes. Maybe you’ll have to initiate this more often. Holding his hand, that is.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, beautiful.” The giggle that escapes from your lips causes his heart to soar. He looks at you standing in the middle of his room and smiles. It’s something he’s only dreamt of and he knows it’ll be a portrait etched into his memory for a long while.

You wait until he’s closed the door behind him to soak in the feel of his room. This is the room where he sleeps in, where he changes in, where he… Nope. Not gonna go there. You strip off your clothes and discard them in a pile by the bed. The shirt he gave you is thankfully oversized and you decide to forgo the shorts. No one’s going to come in tonight and you loathe wearing pants to bed. After climbing into Hoseok’s bed, you’re hit all at once with his scent. Fuckfuckfuck. He smells good. Your brain seems to manage only that one thought. Again, it’s a lot to process.

Does he have a side of the bed he prefers to sleep on? Does he have a preference at all? Does he sleep fully clothed or… You gasp at yourself and shake your head. Bad thoughts. Unnecessary thoughts. But not unwelcome thoughts. You spend the next while thinking back on the unexpected turn of events that transpired the past two weeks.

Hoseok has been a continuous and pleasant presence by your side. What was once only brief greetings in passing easily evolved into a comfortable friendship. As easy as it was to befriend him, your relationship never became stagnant. There was always something new to learn about each other and it didn’t bore you to talk about topics you’d already previously discussed. It definitely helped that he was just as eager to talk with you. Now you know part of the reason why he seemed to like being around you so often. Not that you’re opposed to it.

Your mind wanders back to earlier this evening when his hand rested on your hip. It was such a foreign feeling but you liked it a lot more than you anticipated. If you think really hard you can still feel his touch. You lied when you told him you didn’t know. You felt everything the moment he put his hands on you, from the way his bicep flexed against your back to the way his fingers absently circled your clothed waist. Almost like it was meant to happen. You can’t stop the smile and warmth that spreads on your face and you roll around the bed, squealing into your hands.

“Bye teachers!” Your last student waves goodbye as they leave with their older sibling.

You both wave back and resume cleaning up the classroom after your last activity. There’s not much left to do thanks to the children helping to clean up before it was time for them to leave. You grab a disinfectant and wipe down the snack table while Hoseok neatens up the rows of desks and chairs.

You may be a bit distracted at the bright blue striped collar shirt that pulls taut at his chest whenever he pulls his arms back. He has at least three buttons undone, not that you’re counting. You’re wiping until the table suddenly disappears beneath your hand and you nearly fall on your face. You catch yourself just in time and move onto the next table, pretending as though nothing happened. He clearly saw you though, if his snickering in the corner is anything to go by.

“I’m about done, Hobi. How ‘bout you?” you ask him as you shove the last of your paperwork into your work bag.

“Yep! I’m good to go.”

He’s fidgeting by the door when you finally grab your bag and walk towards him. His eyes are downcast and worries at his lower lip, but you don’t press him about it. Instead, you nudge his shoulder and motion for him to leave with you.

When you exit the building, he asks, “Are you doing anything this weekend?”

A smile creeps up on your face. “No plans. What’s up?”

You already know the answer and your heart rate is picking up the pace from the anticipation. He curls his pinky finger around yours, eliciting a contented sigh from both of you. He hums thoughtfully and swings your hands around as the both of you walk to the parking lot at a leisurely pace. Neither of you seem to be wanting to leave this moment just yet.

“If you’re not busy, I’d like to take you on a date tomorrow.” His voice is firm and unwavering.

Your smile only broadens. “I think I’d like that a lot.” 

He nods shyly and his face beams at your reply.

“So I was thinking—and if you think it’s a lame idea please tell me!—but I was thinking, since you’ve recently started a rock collection, maybe we could… go to the river and find you some rocks? Maybe you can help me find some rocks too?”

You didn’t think your smile could grow any bigger. It’s been a few weeks since his accidental confession and you were truly moving at a snail’s pace. Not that you weren’t grateful for it. It’s really allowed for you to take the time to evaluate your friendship and your newfound feelings for the man walking beside you. You’re stealing glances at him more often these days, thoughts straying to how he’s doing. Your phone’s found a new activity, consistently vibrating with text notifications from him. He makes you happy.

You’d been waiting for him to ask you on a date. Yes, it’s the 21st century and no, you don’t need no man to make the first move, but you still wanted to wait until he initiated it. You’re almost surprised by his date suggestion, but you know Hoseok. The wonderful man has always been thoughtful and considerate of his friend’s passions and hobbies. You just didn’t expect him to be so in tune to your interests. Knowing he was aware about your current rock obsession causes an eruption of butterflies and giddiness to flutter in your chest.

“Oh, wow! You’re full of surprises, Hobi. Of course I’d love that! Maybe we can even have a little picnic afterwards.”

“I think I’d like that a lot,” he echoes your previous words. “So, it’s a date then?”

“It’s a date.”

He still hasn’t let go of your pinky finger by the time you reach your car which automatically unlocks from your near proximity. The day still has so many hours until sundown and already you’re buzzing with excitement for tomorrow. Neither of you have stopped smiling since you left the classroom and you decide to give him a surprise of your own.

“Close your eyes for me?”

He raises a brow at your request but complies and shuts his eyes. You wave your hands around his face to confirm they really are closed. Once you’re certain, you grab onto his shoulders for leverage and tiptoe upward to plant a kiss on his cheek. With a teasing smile, you rush into your car. He jolts, eyes shooting back open at the sound of your car door closing. Giggles escape your lips, watching him standing in a daze. You wonder if he’s as out of breath as you are, despite not having done anything cardio related.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Hobibi,” you say as you reach across the opening to poke his nose.

His lips curve into a lopsided grin and he moves to brush his lips against your finger. You shiver at the sensation. He starts walking backwards to his car and brings 2 fingers up to his forehead to salute you.

“See ya, beautiful. I’ll call you tonight?”

Your heart leaps at how hopeful he sounds. “I’ll be waiting, handsome!” 

You wait until he’s inside his car, wave goodbye one last time, and then drive off.

By the time he walks you to your apartment after your date, the moon has risen high in the sky and encompasses the both of you in a faint glimmer.

Today had been the perfect day to go to the river and you both spent hours crouching in the river bed, your faces nearly touching the water in order to see the rocks clearly. It had truly been a wonderful date and you came home with a good handful of small river rocks to add to your collection. 

You love that this wasn’t a conventional first date. It did, however, bring a different type of first date anxiety because of the fact that you were already friends. Sweet Hoseok didn’t let the nerves take control though. He’d pulled you into the cold water with him as soon as you got there, effectively washing away all worries. You shared plenty of laughs and water fights today. You’re still damp from spending so much time in the river and while the evening breeze should have sent goosebumps all throughout your exposed skin, you’re instead filled with a cozy warmth merely being in the warm and calming presence of Hoseok. 

“I had a great time today, Hobi. Thanks for taking me out to find cute rocks.”

“And thanks for making me wet,” you add for good measure. You snicker under your breath when he chokes on air.

“Oh my god. Um, you-you’re welcome. Your rocks are just as cute as you! Um, and thanks for packing us delicious food.”

It’s entirely too amusing seeing him flounder at your brazen declarations. You liked this shy Hobi. Actually, you’ve come to find you like a lot of different Hobis. The one who brings you tea every other morning at work, the one who walks you to your car even when you’re not teaching a class together, the one who has recently started calling you every night just to say goodnight, the one who blushes any time you compliment him, and most definitely your favorite: the one who has given you a beautiful friendship as the foundation of this newfound relationship with one another.

You have always loved how his smile seemed to shape into a heart. A beautiful physical display of the love he so eagerly and openly shares with the world. Here in this moment though, you know this smile was only for you and you are suddenly so eager to kiss those heart shaped lips. You sigh happily and reach up to smooth down Hoseok’s wind blown hair. You clasp your arms around his neck and bask in the stillness, soaking in the memory of his glowing face under the moonlight.

“Don’t forget to take care of your rocks, okay?”

“Yes, Ms. Y/N.”

“Gross. Don’t call me that,” you scrunch your nose in distaste and push him away. “You can go home.”

He laughs again and grabs your face to plant a kiss on your forehead. “I’m glad you had fun. Go rest up, okay?”

Okay, so maybe you were kidding when you pushed him away. He moves to let go but you grab onto his shirt and lick your lips in anticipation. Maybe you weren’t taking conventional steps and yes, there is that unspoken social rule not to kiss on the first date but you don’t care. 

Some time halfway into the day, you were swept in a sudden wave of acceptance—of your feelings for this man, of toeing the line between friends and potential lovers. For the remainder of the day you were plagued with thoughts about how kissable his lips are. Splashing him with water until he was soaking wet did not help your dilemma. You zone in on his lips and surely he picks up on your cues because he removes your hands from his shirt within seconds and keeps them clasped in his hold. Your eyes quickly shoot up to glower at him. He chuckles and swipes a thumb across your lips, his expression mirthful.

“Let’s take it slow, yeah?” An echo of what he had said that fateful night in front of his apartment.

You quietly grumble in understanding, knowing he was right not to rush into this, earning you a beautiful laugh to slip from his annoyingly beautiful mouth.

“I won’t say no to another kiss on the cheek though,” he teases.

You scoff at the audacity. “You’ve lost that right. Goodbye!”

He laughs at your outburst and learns forward for another kiss on the forehead. With a final wave goodbye and a heart ready to burst, you head inside. In hindsight, you should’ve known Hoseok’s a glutton for “taking it slow.”

Tonight you’re at his apartment to Netflix and chill. Literally.

It’s been several official dates—and many more unofficial ones in between—throughout the three months since your first date. Many cuddles, many accidental boners pressed against your thigh during said cuddles (leading to some awkward repositioning and pretending it never happened), and many kisses shared all around your faces save for your lips. You’re cuddled up against him tonight watching a rerun of Running Man when you’re hit with a pang of need that you’ve become intimately familiar with these days. 

You want to kiss him. Every time you get too close, though, he’d move away. You try not to let it get to you. You really do. But it’s hard not to feel the sting every time you’re rejected. You know he likes you and he knows you like him too. Amidst these thoughts, your mind drifts back to the day you finally confessed that you liked him too. You suppress a laugh thinking about how much of a blubbering mess he’d been. You just wish you knew why he didn’t seem to want to kiss you.

Thinking about all the times he’s rejected your advances completely kills your mood. You unconsciously pull away from him and scoot closer to the other side of the loveseat. Tears are pooling under your eyes and you’re blinking furiously, willing them to disappear. You don’t mean to suddenly feel this way and you certainly don’t want to ruin the good atmosphere tonight. 

Hoseok laughs and comments on something in the show but you can’t bring yourself to muster up fake enthusiasm. You feel something rub against you and you flinch until you realize it’s Hoseok pulling you back to his side. His face is masked with worry and he rubs your arms in a comforting motion.

“Hey there,” he murmurs. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head and adjust your posture on the couch. His eyes furrow at your lack of response and he pauses the show. He shifts to face you and holds your hands.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You bite down on your lip, willing yourself not to cry. You’re usually not embarrassed to cry. In fact you’ve cried many times in front of Hoseok, but those were different times. You don’t want to scare him away. Of course, your body never does like to listen to you. Your chin quivers without your permission and it was like the dam broke. Hoseok’s frown only deepens and he immediately scoots closer, cupping your face in his hands. Your eyes flutter close, completely embarrassed that you’re crying in front of him.

“Oh god, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cry.” You try to move away but his hands hold your face firmly in place, wiping at your tears with his thumbs.

“Baby, don’t apologize. If you really don’t wanna talk about it I’ll drop it. I will. But you know that I’ll make time to listen to you whenever you’re ready, right?”

You take in a deep, shaky breath. The pet name doesn’t help with your already frazzled emotions and you whisper, “No, it’s…we—I can talk.”

He doesn’t speak, instead waiting for you. You’re tempted to ask him to forget it and pretend you’re okay but you know if you never address this, you’ll continue to be stuck in this limbo and you don’t know how much longer you’d be able to handle it. Might as well be direct about it. Beating around the bush never did anyone any favors.

“Why don’t you want to kiss me?” Your voice cracks and comes out weaker than you meant it to. The following seconds are completely silent. You can’t even hear Hoseok breathe. His lack of reaction causes fresh tears to fall down your face.

“I’m sorry,” you both say.

“I-I thought we’re good now, you know? And, I don’t know, I figured that since we—”

“Wait. Wait, baby let me speak first. Please?”

You hiccup and nod your consent. His thumbs stroke both sides of your face, continuing to catch your tears. His brows are still wrinkled and you want nothing more than to smooth them out.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I didn’t realize it was hurting you this much and I’m sorry I didn’t notice… I know it’s selfish of me and it’s not a good enough excuse but to be honest I don’t think I’d be able to deal with it. And I’m gonna sound really corny but I just know if I kiss you once, I’m scared I may never want to stop and if… or when you decide you don’t want me anymore, um,” he pauses to lick his lips and laughs nervously. 

You flinch at his words. Was he still holding onto that? Your heart now aches for an entirely different reason. It hurts that he still thinks you’re unsure about your feelings for him. Has he been stressed about that all this time?

Before he can go on, you push him until he’s resting against the couch cushion. You swallow down your insecurities. It’s something you can come back to later. Feeling bad about him not wanting to kiss you holds little value when he’s been worried about this for god knows how long. His hands fall from your face and you maneuver yourself until you’re straddling him, giving him no chance to look away from you. It’s true that he liked you first and that he had longer to realize his feelings for you but you knew what you felt for him was genuine. You were in this for the long run and tonight you want to make it very clear to him.

“Hobi.” 

It’s your turn to hold his face in your hands. His eyes glisten with unshed tears and your heart lurches. “Do you still think that I don’t like you? That I don’t want you? I’m sorry I must not have been a very good girlf—” You stop yourself barely in time. You didn’t mean to let that slip. You’ve yet to establish your relationship with Hoseok, and you didn’t think it was a good time right now. Your blunder didn’t seem to be lost on him though, as you feel his heartbeat race against your chest and his grip that found purchase on your hips tightens.

“I may have been unsure in the beginning, and it may have been new to me at first but my feelings for you now… I love being your friend but you know what? I also love getting to know this other side of you. This side of you that only I get to see. I like when we pretend that we accidentally color code our clothes at work. I like it when our students and our stupid friends tease us. I like that you send me ugly cat memes and that I can send you stupid tweet screenshots. I like it when you come home with me to cook dinner for us. I like all of it.”

You pause to give him some time to let it sink in. He’s staring at you with so much longing and hope that it almost scares you, but you know you yearn for him just as much. If this goes well, maybe you can be scared together.

“I don’t want to go back to being just friends, Hobi. I want to keep exploring life with you.”

His palms are hot against your hips and his breathing becomes erratic. You lean into him until you’re certain he can feel your heart beating at the same frantic rate as his.

“Do you feel that?” He nods. “You do this to me. And... as for my daily problem down there,” you flush, looking down at where you’re connected below the waist. You look up to see him just as flustered, “is because of you too.”

“Loving you... falling in love with you is so easy.”

You feel his breath hitch at your implied declaration. And you realize your mistake too late. Was it too early to say it? Is it too late to take it back? He makes no move to say anything so you attempt to do damage control. In the form of distraction.

You lean even closer into him, pressed flush against his chest until your lips brush against his earlobe, knowing full well this was his weak spot, and say softly, “So there’s this guy I’m into. He’s really tall and handsome. He likes to drug himself up with caffeine every morning and will one hundred percent drop 200 bucks for limited edition shoes without a single thought. Can you guess who it is?” You don’t give him a chance to reply. “It’s you, Hobi. It’s you and only you and I really, really like you.”

Your confession is honest and true. What happens next is entirely unexpected and you would have fallen off his lap if not for his firm grip on you. He practically lunges at you and before you can process it his lips are moving roughly against yours. You had always thought your first kiss with Hoseok would be soft and slow, much like how he’s moved throughout your budding relationship, but no. He kisses you with a hunger you didn’t know he was capable of. He nips at your bottom lip, earning him a soft groan from you.

“What are you doing to me?” he murmurs into your lips.

You don’t respond. You can’t. Your brain is still trying to catch up and process what just happened.

You pull away from him and you blurt out dumbly, “Oh my god you’re kissing me.”

He laughs contentedly and nestles his face in the crook of your neck. He plants a faint kiss, causing you to shiver against him.

"You drove a hard bargain. I couldn’t not kiss you after that.” A quick peck on the lips. “And for the record, I really, really like you too.”

“Kiss me again, Hoseok.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Epilogue

The wind tries to steal your hat away but you hold onto it before it has a chance to fly off. It’s a breezy day today and your boyfriend had the absolutely brilliant idea to teach you how to longboard.

This brilliant idea ends up being him skating down steep hills at the park while you walk in the grass behind him. You had shouted at him several times to slow down or he’d end up hurting himself but of course in typical male fashion, he ignored you every time.

You’re in the middle of firing a comeback at Yoonji’s most recent text about how gross you and Hoseok have become now that you’re a couple when you hear a cry from your boyfriend several feet away. He’s going down a rather steep hill when the wind picks up sudden speed. Loose gravel breaks his smooth run and you watch in horror as he loses balance and tumbles onto the pavement. He hisses as his skin skids against the rocks.

“Hoseok!”

You stash your phone into your purse and run to him. As you get closer he schools his pained expression, in an attempt to hide any pain he may be feeling.

“I’m fine.” He attempts to reassure you before you can start fretting over him.

You immediately kneel down in front of him, ignoring him and grab his hands to assess the damage.

"You shouldn’t have gone so fast,” you scold as you rip out a few alcohol wipes from your bag. You’ve heard one too many horror stories about people injuring themselves falling off skateboards, so you’ve learned to keep several wipes and bandages handy when you found out Hoseok owned a few of his own. You carefully wipe down his scuffed palms and arms. You worry about his knees too but that’s something you’ll have to take care of at home.

He silently drinks in the image of you kneeling between his splayed legs, tending to his barely-there wounds. His heart may very well burst right there. You blow on his hands and flick your eyes up briefly to find his face mere inches from yours, looking at you with such a fond look.

“Ah, babe you’re too close to me,” you mumble shyly and lightly push him a few more inches away.

This only prompts him to lean in even closer until your foreheads knock together and his nose bumps with yours. It’s been several months since you had the “kiss talk” and made your relationship official. It’s been several months and yet your heart is still sent into a panic when you catch him staring. It’s barely your fault that you react physically when he makes you so nervous. You squeak and push his face away from you, causing him to fall over. His chuckles morph into a gruff wheeze as he falls. Embarrassment momentarily gone, you fuss over him again.

“Hobi! Oh no, I’m sorry!”

He lunges for you and pulls you down on top of him. Unfortunately for him, you didn’t expect him to grab at you and you brace your legs for your eventual fall.

“Oof! Oh god!” He exclaims in pain.

He recoils from you and grabs his crotch, rolling away into a fetus position. “Oh god, baby please be more gentle with me! I won’t be able to put my babies in you if you break me!”

You both freeze from his declaration. You, more so in shock, and he, in mortification. You’ve certainly had your fair share of heavy petting and make out sessions since that night at his place… Okay, fine so you can’t keep your hands off each other for even one day and you kiss every chance you get, but you have yet to go any farther than that with one another. Your sanity has been slowly dwindling the longer you go without knowing how he looks and feels. Hearing him basically say he wants to cum inside you in the near future has you perking up instantly. You watch as his eyes grow comically wide and he immediately sits up, pain forgotten.

“Oh shit shit shit. I said that out loud didn’t I? Oh god. I’m sorry I didn’t—I didn’t mean to—I mean it’s—I know we only just started dating and we haven’t even talked about sex yet and—I’m sorry. Oh my god.” He buries his head in his face, ready for the earth to swallow him whole.

You tug at his shirt and focus intensely on where your fingers are fumbling with his shirt and mumble barely loud enough, “I wouldn’t be opposed to it, you know?”

He swears he feels his dick twitch. Great. It’s not broken. Awesome.

When he doesn’t respond you continue on, “W—well not right now!" 

He snorts. "Obviously not. We’re in public, silly… Unless you’re into that? I mean it’s not my thing but I’m willing to try it if you want us to—” Your eyes widen at his bold declaration and slap a hand over his mouth to prevent him from finishing that sentence. You can’t lie though, the idea has you quivering on your knees.

“Hobi!” You hiss. “I meant not for a few months!”

His eyebrows raise and you’re quick to fix it. “I-I mean next year?”

You feel his lips curl into that awful smirk he fancies anytime he turns you into a blubbering mess. Then you feel something thick and wet against your palm.

“Ew! Hobi!” You pull your hand away from him. He leans into you, tongue still out, and licks your lips before you can shrink even further away. You don’t have the energy to protest again, too engrossed on how good his tongue feels.

“Don’t tempt me with the patience game because we both know I’d win.” He grins when you pout at him because you know he’s right. “I can’t wait to explore this new territory with you, baby.” 

You flush at his remark and stand up to create some distance to prevent yourself from doing something stupid.

“I need to find your skateboard,” you breathe out and run away from your cheeky boyfriend. 

“Longboard!” He corrects you and watches your figure trail away from him.

Hoseok muses how he got so lucky that you, the one he’d been pining after for years, actually reciprocates his feelings. He picks himself off the pavement to help you find his longboard. He thinks he’ll hang it up somewhere in his apartment later today as a commemoration of this lovely date. And he definitely can’t wait to get home and find out how long it’ll take for you to break underneath him.

a/n 2.0: HI ISN’T HOBI HOBI JUST A DREAM???? i hope you liked this fic 🥺 pls share your thoughts with me💗 my asks and dms are always open 💕 like.....always.... <<3333

(gif credit: @jengkook)

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Shelbys at Somme Chapter 21

Thomas X Reader

Word Count: 2144

Summary: John gets married, Thomas gets drunk, and Y/N gets a warning.

by @adventuresintooblivion

Music filled the air as the Lees hastily directed guests to their seats. The scent of flowers was strong in the early spring, and, for bloody once, it wasn’t raining. A soft murmur filled the air, several guests questioning the absence of the groom but Aunt Pol smiled coyly to her Plus One beside her. 

They stood amongst those they had hours ago, called enemies. In the dirt and muck on the edge Birmingham, an altar was erected out cloth and sheer will. As the smell of tobacco and food grew and the time drew nearer, one could almost forget how every mouth around them struggled to feed itself. Today was a truce. And with any luck, this truce would continue into peace.

Y/N glanced at Pol, “Damn, you look like you’ve stolen the Queen’s Jewels yourself. What’s got you in such a mood?”

Pol practically danced, “Ada’s coming.”

“Oh Pol, go visit your niece for Christ’s sake. I can handle myself.”

She paused only a moment before scurrying off into the crowd. Rumor had spread that the Shelby men had been spotted heading this way. Everything was about to start and for the first time in a long minute Y/N melted into the crowd. She let the anonymity wrap around her like a blanket and breathed easy.

But it was only a brief reprieve as the soft baritone of Thomas’ voice wafted through the crowd. This was the first time they’d been in the same place since their fight. A part of her registered that John had kneeled at the altar but she couldn’t pay attention. All she could hear was her heart beating in her ribcage so hard it hurt. 

Then she heard it, a small pause in his voice. “Is that-?”

“Y/N?” Ada finished for him. “Yeah, she came with Aunt Pol. Hell, at this rate she’ll be more a part of the family than I am.” 

“Ada, don’t say that. You’ll always have a place in the Shelby home. Even if-” “My husband’s a dirty rotten communist that you keep trying to sell to the coppers?”

The sound of  shuffling feet accompanied by a defeated sigh told Y/N everything she needed to know. She’d known what Thomas was going for but then again, not a lot of people could navigate that mental minefield. Apparently, even Ada had trouble with it. 

As Y/N took a breath to calm herself she felt it, his eyes boring a hole into her back. It didn’t help that he could probably see the procession from over her shoulder. It wasn’t until she heard Arthur quietly asking ‘what the fuck is he staring at?’ that she felt the weight of his gaze leave. 

As soon as the vows were spoken and sealed the party started. The Rothschilds had never been close to the Lees, so Y/N had never been actually invited to one of their parties. Despite everything, they knew how to cast aside life’s troubles and just live. They sang at the top of their lungs, they danced as if the weight of the world simply didn’t exist and it Y/N was quickly swept off her feet.

After her first few partners had jostled her, word must’ve spread quickly and the hands that guided her across the dancefloor were gentle. She was lifted in the air and spun so that gravity lost it’s hold on her. Y/N was carried and spun until her head spun just as fast. Then rough hands grabbed her shoulders, pulling her away into the darkness.

It wasn’t until her back hit the wood of a caravan, far from prying eyes, that she saw it was Thomas. His sharp features contorted even further by shadows. A deep crease ran between his eyebrows, his teeth were bared at her as he huffed for air. She could smell the alcohol on his breath as his eyes wandered over her. 

He’d left barely a few inches between their bodies. Y/N nearly jumped out of her skin as he let his fingers run down the buttons of her coat. Pol had shown up with it earlier and it was the fanciest thing Y/N owned. It was cut in the shape of a dress despite being cozy and made of wool, and the moment Y/N saw it, her heart broke at the idea of having to return it at the end of the night.

“What are you doing here?” Thomas’ voice was barely a whisper. He’d leaned close enough that Y/N could feel his hot breath pooling at the curve of her neck.

She took a shaky breath, “Pol invited me. Told me I had to come so she didn’t have to drink alone.”

“I know.” His hands had moved to either side of her head. A barely visible tremble ran through him as he spoke again. “You didn’t have to say yes.”

“Are you going to tell me to leave?” There was a hard edge to her voice. All the weeks of being ignored and this was the first thing he said to her? 

It hit her all at once, the anger and the fear. He’d cast her aside when she’d told him the hard truth. He’d left her standing in the rain to watch as he stormed away. He didn’t want her. 

The tears came unbidden. She swallowed back the bile in her throat as her jaw flexed to scream, at him or at the world she didn’t know. Her nails bit into her palm trying to drag her back to reality. But it was getting hard to breathe when all she could smell was him.

Thomas opened his mouth to snap at her, then he paused. It wasn’t until his eyes softened that Y/N even realized the tears had escaped her. The crease between his brows vanished as he tilted his head so that the moonlight would fall across Y/N's face. 

His fingertips brushed along her cheek, making all of Y/N’s fried nerves come to life. Her lips parted slightly as a soft gasp became the only noise to compete with distant music. The sound caught his attention, his eyes flickering down to her lips. A new haze filled them instead of anger or concern. 

Thomas slowly pressed his body against hers, heat radiating from beneath his suit. He bent down until his lips brushed her earlobe. Y/N couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through her and her heart sank as she realized he could feel how fast it pounded in her chest.

Then he whispered softly, as if the darkness between their bodies was the only place that could hold his secrets. “I want nothing more than to make good on that promise I made on that battlefield.”

Y/N’s thoughts were zooming by so quickly she could hardly reach and grab anything coherent, let alone a memory. Even as her mind wildly grasped from something she was too firmly rooted in the here and now. 

“I want you to marry me.” The world suddenly stopped as he pressed a chaste kiss to the curve of her neck. “I want to let myself love you, without holding back.” Another kiss, closer to her shoulder. “ I want to stop hearing the pickaxes in the wall.” His voice broke. “I don’t want to have to be a monster anymore.”

She felt the hot wetness on her skin as he buried his face against her neck. Y/N’s arms were no longer able to stay by her side as the man before her shook. For a long moment they were surrounded by nothing, then reality slammed back into place as cheers rang up from the distant crowd. Toast. Toast. Toast.

Thomas stilled, then straightened his back to let moonlight glisten on his cheekbones. He ducked down to hide his face and began to turn. Y/N’s hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of his coat.

“Wait.” He didn’t turn back towards her but he stopped walking. “If that’s what you wanted then why the fuck have you been messing around with Grace?”

He almost seemed like he wasn’t going to answer, “When I was with Grace, it gave me hope that one day I could kill the monster.”

Y/N’s voice broke, “And me?” 

“You saw the monster, smiled, and every time I saw that smile, I knew peace.” Even in the darkness, Y/N could see the blush crawling up his neck. His voice had almost faded into a whisper before he cleared his throat. “I… I need to go. John would kill me if I didn’t give some sort of speech tonight.”

His wool coat slipped through her fingers as she watched him leave. It wasn’t until he turned the corner, leaving her alone between the caravans, that she slumped into the cool damp earth. Moisture slowly soaked through her pants as her body shook. Damn that man and his fucking alcohol!

It wasn’t until another figure blotted out the sparse moonlight, that she realized she wasn’t alone. This was an older gentleman, his features softened by age. His movements were slow but purposeful as he made sure he had Y/N’s attention.

“Hello, Ms. Rothschild.” His voice was deep and graveled. One that belonged to a storyteller that had shared the history of his people a thousand times over so that it would not be forgotten. Y/N’s estranged last name rolled off his tongue like a lullaby, but it didn’t stop the stab she felt in her heart at hearing it.

She cleared her throat, “I haven’t been called that in three years, sir.”

He chuckled, “Well then, it sounds like the rumors are true. Now, how does a pretty thing like you get exiled?”

“You call your old man a coward for abandoning his own to war. Then come back a cripple.” 

“For a young woman who has brought a family from the brink of nothing, you give information like it’s a gift.” He hummed, softly tapping his foot to a beat Y/N couldn’t hear.

Y/N let out a deep sigh, “Information is payment for what you’re about to give me.”

He grinned, “You make it sound like it was going to be free in the first place.”

“Oh, it most certainly was not going to be.” She shook her head. “But what more could you want? Other than a brand new story?”

He nodded slowly with a knowing smile, “You’re smarter than you look.” 

“Good. It’ll keep people on their toes.” 

He burst out laughing. It was a deep laugh that came from his core and echoed through the night. Eventually, he quieted. 

Wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, he continued. “I’ll keep it straight to the point, then. Before Mr. Shelby proposed his own brother as collateral against a war, we’d begun colluding with your forbearer. He’d actually paid his quite handsomely to dispose of Mr. Shelby.”

“Wouldn’t that be a violation of some code of honor or something? I mean, I’ve never heard of you guys outsourcing muscle for your personal vendettas.”

“A Rothschild lectures me about honor?”

Y/N shrugged, “I never said we were the good guys.”

“Oh and becoming a Peaky Blinder makes you better?” He gave her a sidelong glance.

“I’m not sure I’m actually a part of the gang. There’s a distinct lack of a hat.” 

Y/N knew she said too much when he smiled but she didn’t stop him from finishing his story, “Indeed. No hat. In regards to your old family, we have attempted to contact them. To call it all off. However, now that the idea has been planted in their minds, I’m afraid that it’s only a matter of time before they try something stupid.”

“And what do you expect me to do about a called off hit?”

He flashed her a wicked grin that hinted at a much wilder youth, “You are the ‘Impossible Girl’ come back from the dead and all? I think you can do quite a bit, once you stop moping.”

“I’m not moping!”

“You sit in the wet grass, while everyone you know and love dances the night away. If that isn’t moping, then I’m the King of England.”

Y/N felt herself pouting and even if she didn’t want to admit it, she knew he was right. She stretched her stiff joints before forcing herself to stand. She wobbled a bit, her back protesting after so long in the awkward position. But as she took a step forward, the older man held up his hand. 

“I’ve given you wisdom. It is not a gift.”

“You want another story?”

He nodded.

“Well, one time I stole the Acquisition Officer’s boots and wore them for a week in front of him.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

[shhh-no-ones-home]

the f word bucky barnes x reader

+++++++++

hello yes i absolutely loved the last episode and will probably be writing more bucky soon. i have quite a few drafts for him so i hope you guys like these lol

backstory (same as liar, liar) - she can see the future (or versions of it) through dreams and visions; she can see someone's past and memories by touching them; and she can stop peoples actions with her mind. Sam introduced her to Bucky without knowing about her powers and they started dating. (OC superhero name: Arcana)

Song: redeemer by palaye royale

tag list: @cynic-spirit +++++++++

The compound had finally been rebuilt and I was glad to be back. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed the apartment Bucky and I shared in the city, but nothing felt quite like this. After all, it was my home before and during the blip and I was devastated when it got destroyed in the fight against Thanos. Everything about that felt like ages ago now.

From the foundation to the ceilings, everything looked so familiar yet so new. I remembered moving in to this place after Steve had found me robin hooding my way around the streets of new York. It was unlike any place I had ever been and it was a permanent place I could call home after being kicked out for having powers. For being different. But the agents around never made me feel that way, and neither did any of the avengers, especially Steve.

And now walking around, the smell of paint and sawdust in the air I found it hard to keep it together. There was a legacy in this place. And though the team still trained here from time to time it felt strangely empty. There was no Tony stark tinkering on things in the basement, or Natasha making an abundance of snacks in the shared kitchen. It didn't quite feel like home anymore. But then again I guess it didn't need to. I had a new home, with bucky. With my fiance. God that felt so good to say out loud.

"Fiance."

I whispered to myself, looking out the window at the landscapers working hard on the new lawn out front, mindlessly turning my engagement ring around my finger. The smile that found it's way to my lips couldn't be hid. I was too enamored with him and his decision to start a new life with me to not smile when I thought about it. He made me feel like me again, and that was something that hadn't happened in a while.

"Glad to see you back."

I heard from behind me, seeing sam's reflection in the window and turning to face him as he stood next to me.

"Glad to be back."

He looked over at me with a knowing smile, his hands together behind his back.

"You busy?"

He asked, nodding to the window and I laughed.

"No, watcha need?"

He offered his hand out and we began walking, starting through the common area.

"I've been in contact with some people, y/n,"

He paused, looking over me as i awaited his next statement, anxiously.

"I think we found her."

I slowed my pace as I took on the weight of his words. We had been looking for my younger sister for almost two years. The entire two years it took to rebuild this place as well as my relationship with the man I will soon be calling my husband. It almost felt unreal.

Similar to me she was thrown out when her powers developed. Even after the blip. I only wish I had known she was left here by herself during that time. when I tried to reach out and recieved nothing in return I just figured she had blipped with my parents. But that wasn't the case. And now she was still out there, alone, rejected.

"Where?"

There was a sadness and an urgency to my words as he pulled one of the monitors away from the wall. He tapped a few buttons before showing it to me, video footage of someone who looked like her. Or at the very least a shadow of my memory of her. She was seven years older now than the last time I saw her.

"This was from yesterday near the navy pier in Chicago."

I sent him a look, strained behind bloodshot eyes and furrowed brows.

"Sam... If I can get to her... I- I don't know what I'll do."

The words were broken and the way he looked at me, he knew this was important. She was the only thing that kept me going for so long.

"I talked to bucky, he said he had you both packed already. We can leave right now if you want."

When I realized what he had actually said I paused for a moment, staring at the ground with my hand placed over my stomach. God I didn't need this today of all days. He could probably tell something was wrong, off more like it.

"Y/n?"

He asked but I didn't answer him. I was just trying to focus on not getting sick.

"You coming?"

Sam asked and I shook my head lightly, feeling nauseous again. I almost didn't want to look at him in case he could read what was going on. He knew this was important to me but I didn't even know if I could get on the jet with them. Not with the way I had been feeling recently.

"you guys go ahead, I'll meet you there."

I managed and he drew his brows.

"Meet us there. you've been waiting for this for so long. Y/n... Is everything okay?"

He asked and I nodded quickly. I wanted to say something else but I couldn't hold it any more. I held up a finger to him for a second before turning quickly and running down the hall to the bathroom. As soon as the door was closed I was on my knees looking at my lunch for a second time. My whole body felt terrible as I sat there, sweat beading against my hairline as I heaved again. When the feeling passed I stood and cleaned myself up, breathing heavily and looking over my tired face in the mirror. God, was this what I had to look forward to? I just wanted to get through one lousy day.

The truth is, I wanted to go with them right now, right this very minute. to get my sister. But I had been getting sick all day everyday for the last two weeks. I was almost one hundred percent sure I was pregnant. And Bucky new it was happening. Whether he had an idea what was going on or not; even though we hadn't talked about it yet. But then again we had more pressing matters. It could wait until after we got her back, if we even could.

But what if it took longer than that? Was the wait gonna be worth it? I mean, Hell I hadn't even actually checked to see if my speculation was right or not. God I had no idea what I was going to do if I was actually pregnant. I had some pretty important things going on right now after all. I was on the cusp of getting my only sibling back on top of missions and planning a wedding. What could be more stressful than that?! I shook my head at the thought. One problem at a time. When i turned to leave I tried to avoid Sam, leaning against the opposing wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

"I thought you said you were good?"

He taunted and I rolled my eyes.

"I am."

He hummed before following me closely.

"I have an idea why you want to meet us there now. Does bucky know?"

He asked and I sent him a look.

"Know what?"

I asked and he raised a brow.

"Come on y/n. You two tell each other everything. You're practically glued together at the hip."

I laughed.

"We haven't talked about anything."

He grabbed my arm lightly to stop me, spinning me to face him.

"But I'm right? You're pregnant?"

He asked, a hint of worry and pride behind his voice. I looked to the floor for a second.

"I don't know yet, I haven't had the time to get a test yet. I've been a little preoccupied."

He nodded once.

"If you can get that test Tonight I'll cover for you. We'll take the jet, make a game plan, and you meet us there tomorrow."

°°°°°°°°°

When I made it to their hotel room the next day I couldn't help the butterflies in my stomach. I was getting my sister back after two years of searching. This was finally it. I took a deep breath before knocking on the door, Sam answering it with a smile on his face.

"Glad to see you could make it."

He said, a shit eating grin turning up where the genuine happiness had been. I sent him a look, following him inside.

"well hello to you too Sam."

i said kissing his cheek quickly and walking across the room.

"Hey baby."

I greeted, kissing Bucky gently when he looked up at me from his place at the foot of the bed.

"How was the trip?"

He inquired as I sat beside him, slipping my hand in his and resting my head on his shoulder.

"Good despite the amount of pit stops I had to make but id say worth it."

He just hummed and kissed the top of my head. There was a long silence before Sam cleared his throat, taking both of our attention.

"So are we just not gonna talk about this?"

He asked and Bucky sent me a weird look before turning back to Sam.

"Talk about what?"

He asked and Sam looked like he was gonna attack him for being so stupid.

"it can wait till later, right now we have more pressing matters."

i said, brows raised.

"my sister is more important."

°°°°°°°°°

there were shots fired before i stepped out into the open, looking around wildly for her.

"Erin!"

then suddenly everything stopped. i could feel her presence around me, closing my eyes as it got closer.

"y/n get back here!"

i heard Bucky yell, more shots being fired. but i kept walking.

"Erin."

i whispered.

"there's nothing here, lets go."

Sam called but i shook my head. i knew she was here, she had to be.

"Erin."

i said again, holding my hand out. then i felt something, snapping my eyes open and seeing her in front of me, surrounded by a haze.

"you came back."

she said, broken.

"of course i came back, you're my sister."

i said through a sob, feeling Bucky's hand at my arm. when i looked to him everything went back to normal, both of us ducking down as another shot went off.

"we need to go."

he said in urgency.

"but Erin-"

when i looked back to her she was gone.

"y/n there's nothing there."

"no, bucky she was right here. she was. i-"

i reached my hand out again, and i could still feel her. when i touched her again i closed my eyes. she was still there but now i was dragging her along as Bucky dragged me.

"come back to me."

i whispered.

"i have to stay."

i shook my head.

"not if i can help it."

i said, freezing everything, gripping her hand tightly. i squeezed my eyes shut and in a moment the haze had dropped.

"Erin."

i repeated, opening my eyes slowly and her now standing in front of me. when i sighed out a sob, everything when back to normal.

"damnit y/n i told you to stop doing that to me, we had an agreement-"

he started, pausing when he saw Erin.

"Bucky, meet my sister."

i said, letting him go and pulling her into a hug. the tears free fell down my face as he touched my back gently. when she pulled away she offered her hand for him to shake.

"ive heard a lot about you."

she said and he sent her a confused look.

"we're connected now. it only takes a second to relive a lifetime."

i mentioned, looking to her with an intense fondness.

"thank you for giving her a home while i was gone."

she told Bucky, pulling him into a hug.

"and for this."

she said, placing her hand at my stomach. he sent me a knowing look as Sam flew down to us.

"that was one hell of a trick y/n."

he said, looking between Erin and I.

"i told you id do whatever it took to get her back."

"and I'm glad to be, even if i cant stay with you."

i sent her a look.

"you dont have to keep running anymore. come help us on missions, stay at the compound, make a new life for yourself."

"babysit when you need me?"

she asked with a laugh. i shook my head in amusement.

"so i take it we're finally talking about it?"

Sam said. i nodded, a small smile on my face as i leaned into Bucky, looking up at him endearingly.

"yes Sam, i took the test, i am indeed pregnant. happy now?"

i looked to him for a second before Bucky touched my chin gently to bring my gaze back to him.

"very happy."

he said before kissing me gently.

"very happy indeed."

[quinn-tessence]

Nocturne for a Clown

Part 1

In this frightening, destabilizing global pandemic, we all seek comfort. I found mine in Arthur, and I know many of you did too. This community has given me so much, I cannot express my gratitude enough. So here's something I can give back. A Nocturne for our beloved Clown, who still inspires us to this day, and will probably never stop. 🤡🖤

Summary: you stumble into an intriguing neighbor, a tragic, beautiful party clown named Carnival with jade eyes and cocoa hair. His meekness around you gets under your skin enough to lead you unconsciously into his path by accident.

Length: 3.5k

Warnings: mentions of mental illness, alcohol use, nudity, playful flirting and light fluff. Pre smut intro, this is going places… 🤭🤡❤

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

You should have taken more bags, you could barely hold all these groceries as you opened the door to let yourself inside your block of flats. You greeted granny Mabel picking up her mail but swiftly turned your attention to the closing door of the elevator.

‘Wait, hold the lift, please!’

In your haste to catch the ride, a foot was lodged on the door, sliding it back open to let you in. Careful not to spill all the veggies on the floor, your attention fell onto the man sharing the ride with you only as he asked what floor you were going to.

‘5th please, thank you for holding the door'

‘Sure'

The lift shook in its slow ascent, your heart would have skipped a beat had it not been a part of your daily routine to feel that bump in your bones. His hair is really nice, the length and the curls around the edges. Hm. You couldn't help looking at him, he was all of your visual field after all, so you scrutinized, as you’d often do. He’d politely turned sideways, avoiding to keep his back to you, but you couldn't see his face clearly in the dim yellow light. He wasn't much taller than you, his complexion quite slim and fragile looking, his back slouched as if carrying the heaviest weight on his shoulders. Gotham made that easy, grey and gloomy by day even during good weather, a pile of construction and buildings with no defined identity, enough to fit all from the scourge to the wealthy.

‘This building's awful, isn't it?’ an uncharacteristic curiosity made you try out some small talk in the hopes you'd get a better glimpse.

You knew too few people in this building, and you were far from chatty in elevators with strangers. Usually. He looked so old fashioned wearing that shirt and the linen vest, but the ochre of his jacket heightened the cocoa brown of his hair, yellow light reflecting off the edges delicately. He was cute, in an oddly endearing sort of way. A pair of basil green eyes turned to your as he bit the bait, the sly grin cutting through his cheek a stark contradiction to everything else about him, the scar on his upper lip a peculiarity that only furthered your intrigue. There was a deep well of sadness in his eyes, overbearing, bone chilling. It prickled your skin as you noticed it, but the gaze under his eyelids was piercing. That unnerving feeling the striking contrast brought, you couldn't shake it off.

The joy ride on strings stopped just as your cheeks started to fluster. You bid him good night as you walked out, your awareness over your morning overuse of perfume now as acute as ever.

‘Hey!’ he shouted in a shy, husky voice as you stepped out.

You turned to him one last time to see him mimicking a gun shot to the head as a rather late comical attempt to reply to your earlier remark. Unconventional, yes, but not a sort of humor you didn't enjoy. The fact that you just couldn't make him out drew a puzzled smile on your face as the elevator door closed.

Hm. What was that? you wandered as you had one foot in stirring curiosity, the other guiding you to your door as if by reflex. You'd lived here for months already, yet you hadn't seen him before. He was quite handsome in an outlandish sort of way, you would not have let that go unnoticed had you seen him before.

Months had passed, yet you still had storing boxes around your living room. Your stay should have just been temporary, yet you'd started decorating it with your own sketches and it had suddenly become your home, your sanctuary, your oasis to recharge you after long days at the office close by. You'd stumbled into this place by accident while looking for a cozy place to stay, but you found no reason to leave it behind. Your own art gallery, with bright lights flooding the windows throughout the day that allowed you to paint during weekends without your eyes squinting, your safe space.

Not today though, your feet were sore and your arms hurt from carrying those groceries. All you wanted was a glass of white wine and an excessive bag of popcorn while you watched the Murray show, but you picked up Dostoyevsky to delve again into the question of the perfect murder while you waited. This book you could never grow tired of, and it rattled you to devour chapter after chapter, accompanying a tormented soul on a journey of falling into madness, its universe a silent revolt and escape from the reality of Gotham you'd craved deep down without ever voicing.

‘We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, that begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken.' Hm. Go figure.

The deafening silence in the room would soon be filled by your own comments at the starting show, Murray’s humor making you roll your eyes at his lack of self awareness, quite versed he was in ridiculing one person or another. A comedy show, yes, but sometimes he would take it a bit too far even for your inappropriate taste in humor.

A few hours and half a bottle of wine later, the sweet taste of the wine still lingered on your lips, flooding your murky mind to a familiar place of solitary self indulgence. Not long after shutting your eyes, a recent memory took shape at the back of your eyelids, and you felt an irrational urge to trace a sketch of him. You were too tired to start drawing at this hour. Your fingers would be of much better use tracing those lines you were curious to feel off his own fingertips. You hadn't indulged yourself in a while, but the thought of this bewitching man flashing in the most vulgar parts of your mind soon changed that. Maybe you were blatantly objectifying your neighbor… but only a little… You'd been so busy with the new job, the long hours exhausting, the absence of a soul to keep you company a nuisance you'd learned to bury in piles of work. But the urges only amplified the more you'd stifle and ignore them, demanding to be satiated. So you gave into yourself, into him, into the sweet, intoxicating effect of your favorite wine, into the memory of the piercing green eyes that had you whimper in silence.

Something about him was out of place. You’d seen him from afar and he looked defenseless. But as you came closer, you could feel yourself swallow hard as you waited for his gaze to look to your direction. Odd, wasn't it? He hadn't said much, but the tension in the elevator had penetrated your bones to late night reminiscence. Something was not right about him, an 'I should be afraid, instead it turns me on' vibe to him had taken you right to the edge.

The next day you bumped into him after work at the corner store, he was buying cigarettes and a chocolate bar. With that level of nutrition, no wonder he was so feeble, yet there was something about him that had kept you up at night. You'd already developed a weakness for him, but that stifled your reaction instead of filling you with courage. He smiled shyly and walked out the door, his eyes counting his slouched steps. Shit. Next time.

One particular evening you noticed two blue diamonds peering meticulously through the store shelves, the greasepaint on the man's face rendering him almost unrecognizable lest for his unmistakable skinny complexion and beautiful cocoa hair. Your freight of clowns had shaped your life since childhood, yet that terror had somehow melted instantly at the sight of his jade eyes underneath the white blue makeup. He'd shied away as you noticed him, stealing a smile that got your feet walking into an opposite reaction, trying to hide your pleasant surprise at his creepy, endearing stares. You wondered if that was his job, it would be absurd to just walk around in a clown costume, stalking women. Not to mention, horrifying and nightmare inducing, as even you would have felt until a moment ago if it hadn't been him wearing the clown costume.

Fumbling around the store, shying behind the counters as you paid for your groceries, you couldn't resist glancing at him one more time. You'd missed your chance before and you regretted it. All it took was to reach for one item from the isle he was hiding in, even if you had no use for it. Startling him was the last of your intentions, so you mimicked his behavior peering at him through the shelves, perhaps that would open him up to you. As you both walked in the same direction towards the corridor, he stopped shy in his tracks, eyes now as big as the clown shoes on his feet, scanning the floors, anxiously facing the inevitable.

‘Hi there. I've seen you around, haven't I?'

You'd planned on being more casual in your approach, yet the tone of your voice evoked a warm intimacy built over nights of having him wander purposefully in the depths of your fantasies. The clown costume should have helped alienate that feeling, instead it only burned deeper. The youthful innocence draped across his face contrasted strikingly with the furrows in his forehead betraying his age. He couldn't be younger than 35 at least, yet the spark of his almond shaped eyes took 15 years off his complexion. He cleared his throat before being able to speak.

‘Hi! Yes, we met in the elevator last week. I didn't think you'd recognize me in my work outfit.’

‘I thought that was you. You could frighten ladies if you keep peering at them while wearing a clown costume, you know? Not a lot of good press on them in the past years’

A nervous chuckle escaped his throat, he couldn't have missed that connection himself but he seemed caught red handed.

‘Well I haven't even pulled my gun yet. I was waiting for the store to clear out a bit before I robbed the place and kidnapped you'

There was that dark humor, but damn him for making you smile like a teenager.

‘A clown with a gun and a plan, not at all frightening. You're funny! Pass me that pasta sauce, would you?’

He quickly reached for the item on his counter and reached over it to hand it to you. The gawkiness in his hasty moves was proof enough he wasn't used to being approached by women, you were sure his cheeks were as flaming red under the white makeup as the flower pinned to his colorful checkered blazer. You shook your head and pointed at the end of the counter, your feet moving in the direction where you wanted him. He followed shyly, dragging his oversized clown shoes.

As he handed you the item, you thanked him kindly and immediately put it back up on the shelf. His gaze fell to his feet again, surely flustered by the subtext of your action. Yet within a split of a second, his eyes pierced back at yours and you'd forgotten all words.

‘Why don't I walk you home instead? I'll keep the gun and kidnapping for another occasion. Let me help you with those' he reached for your groceries, his proximity to you feeding the fire. You gladly agreed and walked the couple blocks with him, curious of his day job and adoring the purr of his soothing voice, it tore you up every time you heard it falter. His suit and makeup should have kept you a mile away, yet he seemed to be the most welcome companion to comfort you through your biggest irrational fear. As you reached the apartment complex sooner than you'd wished, he stopped and let out a complicit chuckle.

‘I… seem to have forgotten to do my own groceries, I’ll have to go back now, somehow I got distracted…’

‘And I thought you were there just to kidnap me.’ You just couldn't help continuing his apropos, hoping deep down he'd actually do it. ‘Thank you for walking me home, that was sweet of you'

‘You're very welcome. I'm Arthur, by the way, or Carnival if you prefer the party clown'

‘Nice to meet you, Arthur. I'm Y/N.’

‘Y/N…’ the sound of your name off his lips jolted you shamelessly to the point where you needed to take that step back, and yet you didn't. ‘I'll see you around?’

The smile on his painted face a ray of sunshine in an otherwise wretched day. Carnival, you cheekily thought to yourself, never had you wanted to experience one as badly as you did seeing him light up a cigarette and inhale it wantonly almost halfway through, walking back a few steps, then turning and making his way back to the store.

Days at work had flown by rapidly in your constant distraction with a lingering image of a colorful clown. Not even the new guy everyone was talking about could catch your attention, even if your girlfriends kept mentioning a stunning pair of black eyes and a charming swagger. Had he been a smoker, you'd perhaps get a glimpse of him during your breaks, at least. The Fridays hardly ever felt like the weekend, and this one made you want to smash some bones, your own sorrows bubbling up inside you, like a mint candy in a bottle of Cola. You were more of an indoors cat, but your really couldn't pass on a 3rd invitation for a night out, your buddies would think you were willfully ditching them. Fine I'll go! Just one drink though.

Mixing gin and tequila hadn't been up there among your smartest choices. You should have stopped after the 3rd shot, but you hadn't had so much fun in months. Hah! I feel dizzy. But this feels good, your thoughts pieces of a puzzle you were too drunk to make out. As your feet moved out of the taxi and into the cold early morning air, you were finally back home. You must have remembered to pay the fare otherwise the cabby would have chased you down. You drifted in your scrambled thoughts as your feet walked out of reflex, your mind miles away, preoccupied with a certain pair of turquoise eyes. Perhaps you had a propensity for dark hues, but those had always just been mere dust in front of green shades. I’m not in my own mind anymore… I’m in someone else's... And I’m touching myself, I’m licking my lips, the tip of my tongue grazes over the scar on my upper lip, the heat of my breath comes from within a boiling body, my skin sizzles. I hum and I moan and I... hah, fuck, I think I just broke my heel, I’m so fekkin drunk. You dragged yourself to the elevator, your mind desperately hoping you were managing to keep yourself composed so the sweet old doorman wouldn't judge you as a drunken failure in life.

Why did you do this to yourself? And can you just not redirect all your remaining fluids to where they're not required before you're at least in your bed? Fuck, I can't... you'd been pushing the elevator button for a minute before you growled a tad too loud at the drunken realization you’d have to climb all 5 storeys in this wretched state you'd put yourself into.

Fine, just get your sorry ass up before you make a fool of yourself clowning around. Just one more and you're there. Fumbling for your keys in your bag, you leaned on the door and, to your surprise and annoyance, it opened. What the fuck, was I drunk before I left my apartment? How could I have forgotten to lock the damn door?

You felt sick to your stomach, you couldn't walk to the bed. You hadn't drunk so much for over a year, you’d forgotten how useless you were in this state. The couch would do for tonight. You almost dropped yourself to the floor, the couch not in the same position as you'd left it, but who cared. I'm never drinking again, you thought as you coiled around the pillow, a shoe dropping on the floor while the other hung half way. It smelled of cigarettes, most probably from your clothes.

A familiar enticing aftertaste of alcohol clawed its way out once again, you should have known this was coming. You wished he'd be there so you could release yourself to him, as frail as he was he'd surely handle you gently, and mmm wouldn't that feel sweet. The alcohol had just been a low end substitute to bury your frustrations and aches. Hah, even if he was here, you'd be useless. But that didn't stop you from dozing off to the thought of his gentle fingers strolling down your neck to your breasts, drawing circles on your waist before goin... down lo...

There was too much light in the room, as drunk as you’d been you’d forgotten to draw the curtains. You couldn't open your eyes, the headache was throbbing, so you rubbed your temples and turned your led limbs from the aching position you'd landed on as the most shameful drunk in this city.

Your mind thought you could take opening your eyes, and as you did you felt the alcohol pressuring your Adam's apple, a deep breath a flimsy stronghold to keep everything down. A deep breath that turned swiftly to a high pitched shriek at the sight of this man walking towards you dripping water off his naked body, a towel being rubbed onto his hair with both hands. You shrieked as you fell to the floor, hitting yourself against an unfamiliar coffee table, flagons of pills spilling all over it.

Oh shit, you heard him say as he hid behind the wall, peering at you but quieting his anxiety the more he looked.

'What are you... Y/N, you're in the wrong apartment! Shit, I need to put something on'

Oh god what had you done?? A sous chef could have mistaken you for a lobster and thrown you in a bucket of boiling water, you’d surely been simmering in that since the realization of how much of an idiot you were at walking into his apartment, of all damn places.

‘Oh my god, I am SO SORRY, I had a few too many drinks with my friends and I must have... I surely have climbed too many storeys to my place. I'll be out of your hair, I am so sorry!!!’ He'd been hopping throughout your dreams for the past weeks, you'd seen him naked so many times before, but not once in the flesh. You were flustered at the brazen realization of how far off you'd been as you fantasized about him bare before you. It was nerve wrecking, you wished you could just disintegrate into a million atoms and let the ground swallow you whole.

He chuckled as he returned in a half clothed state, clearly having shortened the process just to catch you before you shut the door behind you.

‘Yeah, the elevator was out of order yesterday. Hey, it's ok. You just really scared me, I wasn't expecting to find you on my couch, you know? You're... welcome to... stay a bit longer if you want. You look like you've had a rough night, I could whip out some breakfast and get you back on your feet. If you wish…’

He'd whipped out more than you'd thought he would a couple minutes ago, thank you very much for the extra sleepless nights.

‘Oh my god, no, I couldn't take advantage of you like that, I just slept on your couch uninvited, I am so horrible. Please excuse me, and thank you for not calling the cops on me.’

He'd smiled at you in the elevator before your heels had started flaming for him a few weeks back, but this was different. His whole face had lit up, his eyes sparkling as if emerald and jade had caught a reflection of the sun, his crooked tooth a tantalizing new discovery, especially as the scar on his lip etched itself deeper into your psyche. You were in his house, after all, where else would he feel most comfortable if not in his private, intimate home, one that you'd shamefully invaded and found him completely naked and wet.

‘They're on their way actually, I’m just stalling before they show up to escort you from my property.’

You chuckled as you held your temple, you must have been a disgusting mess, your makeup all smudged, on your face a decrepit layer of last nights overindulgence, and yet he made you laugh.

‘You're funny, Arthur... I'll take care of that myself, tell them it was a false alarm...’

As you opened the door to remove yourself from this torrent of shame, his voice stopped you in the doorstep.

‘Hey, you wanna… grab a coffee later tonight? It might help with that hangover’

‘You really want to go out after all this?’

‘Yeah!’ his eyebrow twitched in reflex, startling you at its sudden air of impertinence. You couldn't tell if your limbs had mellowed from alcohol, or his facial expressivity had been the melting catalyst. ‘Pajama night, I'll take you to the best Donut diner in town. 9 PM?’

You really wished you could process everything clearly, but he wasn't making it easier at all. ‘Alright then, pajama night it is!’

‘Great! Are you sure I can't help you to your place?’

‘Sorry to ask, what floor is this?’

‘6th.’

‘Oh, I’m right downstairs, maybe going down a flight of stairs will shake off this horrid hangover. Thanks again for... hosting me I guess, nice to see you again, Arthur. I'll see you later!’

You waved at him more in a futile attempt to cover your face as you stepped back out of that bubble of shame, feeling soaked to the bone. The droplets on his skin, he'd just gotten out of the shower, that routine gesture to slick back his hair, that wide morning gaze were mere special mentions as you went down the stairs, one other morning factor keeping your mind fully flustered as you unlocked your own front door this time.

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

Thank you for reading this far! 🤡🖤

A special thank you to a few wonderful people who inspire me daily ❤❤❤

@littlebird92 @life-or-something-like-lt @ralugraphics @jokers-puddin-pop @arthurfleckownsmysoul @bustafatclownnut @jokers-doll @rommies @bananabreaddough @paperorigami @ransomguest49 @daydreamhustler @arthurjokersgirl @lesbianearrings @arthurflecc @iartsometimes @arthurflecksgirl @forever-fleck @sweet-nothings04 @wuika @mollyxlyla-rosex @impulsiveclown @jokerlicious @jokergirl10491 @jokeconic @ajokeformur-ray @shaw-2000 @softyash @arthurflecc

[maree-ff]

Interlude: Remission

CAMILA

Excited, joyful, in lust, anxious, nervous, and overwhelmed. These are all of the emotions I was hit with at three o’clock this morning when I woke up to begin my day. Today officially marks five weeks, seventy-two hours and sixteen minutes since I ruined our relationship. Today also marks the same amount of time that Jorden has completely flipped his switch. His behavior is nothing like Andre or I have ever dealt with. I know I’m to blame for calling off our engagement but it’s almost as if Jorden feels like I took his father away. That was never my intention by any means. I only wanted for Andre and I to take some time out to explore every crevice of our relationship. The energy in our union has been off and I want to know what the root of the issue is.

Papi’s been coming by everyday to bring the kids home from school. He’s even stayed to tuck them in, help me clean up from the aftermath of dinner and then he leaves. He’s been distant, rightfully so, but I miss him! I’ve been yearning for attention and I haven’t craved male companionship in ages! Tonight, I’m going to try and do things differently. I’ve been spying on him to get his schedule for today so I can scheme and coordinate in peace. Andre didn’t pick up the kids today because I asked for his mother to do it herself. The girls are helping me choose what to wear for my weekend away while their baby brother is napping.

Sliding my boots on I tiptoed around the mess I created, rushing to get their opinion. I spun around, danced a little, showing off another outfit I pieced together.

“Okay, nenas...what about this?” I’m frantic. I am supposed to be meeting Dre at a resort in Palm Springs. He has an assignment there for the weekend so I figured this is the perfect time for us to fix what’s broken.

“Shoes..perfect. Outfit..even better.” Zoe smiles assuringly.

Kenja tilted her head left and right before responding to my question. “Perfecto..”

“Perfecto? La verdad o es esa actitud que estoy escuchando?” I sassed her.

“Si..la verdad. Mom, mira la hora por favor.” She pointed out. Glancing at my watch I cursed under my breath, rushing to get out of here. I tossed what I need for the weekend in my bag, smothering my girls in affection. I looped my bag over my shoulder and quietly raced up the steps to check on my youngest baby.

Cautiously I entered his bedroom, blushing at the mere sight of him. “Mommy’s going to fix this nino. I promise. For you and tu hermanas.” Shuffling to his bed I pulled his blanket up over his stomach to keep him warm. “Mommy loves you baby. I’ll see you when I get back and I’ll make sure to kiss Papi for you, if he’ll let me.” I kissed his forehead and backed away before he had the chance to wake up.

I left his room, spoke to Divya briefly and headed straight for Palm Springs.

————  ———— 

Pushing the bottle further down into the ice bucket I turned around to check out the room. I managed to get an extra key to his hotel suite since he’s still out. I got a phone call from Meah saying that he should be arriving shortly.

“Mommy,” I exhaled. Clutching the Bible to my chest I looked out at the sun setting over the horizon. “Necesito su orientación.” My spirit feels alive again. I can feel her. “I need you to walk me through this. I ruined my relationship and I need to get it back. Please watch over me and don’t let me screw this up.” Marking my body in favor of the cross I set the Bible down and put some final touches on his room.

About fifteen minutes later I heard a key unlatch the lock to the room.

“Alright, look I’ll tell you what. Let me look over the proposal, run the account and find the bug.” The door shut and the automatic lock clicking made me jump out of my skin. These goddamn nerves! Quickly I downed one of the shots I poured, needing to calm myself before he saw me. I stood tall by the window, looking out at the montañas and hills. “No man, I will personally take care of the firewall and the hiccup in your account. Why don’t you sen-”

Our eyes met the second his speech paused. With the phone to his ear, he silently set his bag down, looking me up and down. “I will have my assistant contact you so you can get me that file personally. Once I get to the bottom of this I will call you..” he motioned to the glass signaling for me to pour him a drink.

I did as he asked, going ahead to fill two glasses.

“Of course. I’ll get back to you in a few days.” His phone touched the desk as did his jacket. “I’m surprised.” He simply stated.

Closing our distance I handed him the glass, holding my own with two hands. “I know.” I agreed. “Necesitamos hablar.” I sipped on my champagne, reading his energy from the body language he’s showing.

“About?” He too sipped from his glass, going to remove his tie.

“Let me..” I offered. I set my glass down to complete the task I offered to take off his hands. A mass of nothing but fears from my subconscious lodged my airways, making it difficult to look at him. “Habla sobre nosotros, nuestra familia y el futuro de nuestra relación.” The slow movement and slithering sound of his tie falling across his shoulder made my heart skip a beat.

“So let’s talk then. Where should we start? You breaking up our family or completely blind siding me at dinner that night?” I knew this surprise visit from me would be a battle but I wasn’t expecting fire this quickly.

I draped his tie over the back of the chair, not wanting the fabric to catch wrinkles. “Don’t do that. I don’t want to fight with you tonight. For you and for us but not with you.” I created space between us, giving him room to breathe again.

“Why not? There’s enough issues to go around that we can argue about right? Isn’t that what you were saying five weeks ago when you tore our family apart?” He’s agitating me and he knows it. He’s pressing my buttons on purpose but I sympathize with his anger and hurt.

“Everything. Papi, we can fix this. I want to fix this. I broke us apart and for good reason but I want to make it right. I never wanted to hurt you or our family.” The sun has vanished leaving the sky lit up in the most beautiful orange and yellow blend.

“Mm..that’s the memo I got and if I’m correct you did hurt me. You hurt our bond, our love and our kids.” He calmly explained his point, fully raising my nerves.

Snapping my head in his direction I warned him not to steer us down a path we may not recuperate from. He clapped back at me as if I’m not in this fight with him.

“Ay, basta ahora! No me hables así! I hurt myself too, okay? You’re not the only one who got hurt that night alright? Stop trying to make me feel like crap and help me fix the problem!” Waving my hand for him to cut the nonsense out, I paced the floor waiting for him to react.

“What problem, Camila? Tell me what are these problems you speak of? I never saw any facet of our relationship that was broken and needed to be fixed. Were you imagining things that aren't real? What is it?”

“Our chemistry must have been off, Dre. It didn’t feel like old times. Y me estás llaman loco? That’s not fair of you to say! I meant what I said and how I feel is valid. You cannot deny the way I feel! Those are my feelings and I am entitled to them!” I yelled.

He approached me silently, picking up the shot from the tray. He threw it back, poured another two rounds, encouraging me to take second. “Our chemistry? What about our chemistry? Break it down for me. We have all weekend right? That’s why your bag is partially unpacked and you got a second key to the room? Well let’s get to the bottom of this shall we?”

He doesn’t know this but that was my fifth shot since I checked in. The scent of his cologne sent my desire for lust, love, affection, attention, you name it..into overdrive. I rolled my eyes swiftly as he walked past me into the living room of the suite. I followed him thinking of how to recite my feelings.

“Well..I feel like you’re still holding back. You never opened up about what happened to you while you were away. You’ve changed, baby. I recognized the signs when you came home. I didn’t pester you about my concerns because I had enough to deal with already. But you have changed and I just want you to feel comfortable enough to be open with me about what you went through.” Removing my earrings I placed them on the coffee table. Andre was mute. He drew an invisible figure eight with the champagne flute in his hand. “Coming here was intentional my love but stressing you out wasn’t.” I reminded him. I inched over to the large windows, taking in the views with him.

Throwing back the remaining champagne, Andre set the glass down by his feet. “Yeah I changed. I’m ashamed of a lot of events that have taken place over the course of my life. You know that. Being away is at the very top of that list. You know that too. It’s not that I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to share at all with anyone but God himself. I can’t.” He disagreed.

Cupping the nape of his neck I fingered the smooth hair, getting excited. He hasn’t touched me in weeks and I’m still breastfeeding so my hormones are driving me batshit crazy. I have been forced to stick out this drought between us, calculating how long until I get him back. Allow me to be frank and say that I have ventured down the road of self pleasure but it takes too long. I’m capable of satisfying myself on a small scale but I need him for that soul snatching, big time release.

“I’m not shaming you, papi. I would never do that. Though I strongly urge you to reconsider. God is an excellent choice mi amor pero I-” his hand claimed my throat as he backed me into the glass. The liquor in my bloodstream and on his breath made me want more. “Por favor..” I am prepared to beg, plead or use any other extreme measures I have up my sleeve if this will bring us closer. I cupped his cheek, yet again finding our son in him. Their eyes hold a familiar sense of depth and comfort. “I want to fix this, really. Again I’m sorry love, you must believe me.”

The teaser of his increase in pressure to my neck turned me on. I’m sure that was his intention and I have no objections. He’s never harmed me which is good because I love when he uses force. A little pain feels ten times better when sex and intimacy are around the corner.

“I know.” He huffed. I’m already wet with anticipation. He only added fuel to my fire. He overpowered me, giving off anger and animosity. I’ll take what I can for the time being, wanting what I’ve been deprived of. I can’t decide if I want this first time back into our fold to go by quickly because I’m so hungry or if I want to take my time.

“I want both.” I thought aloud.

Andre ripped through my clothes without any regard for common sense to treat my belongings with respect. “Of?” He uttered quietly.

We disrobed one another not caring that anyone could possibly walk by the room. We’re completely exposed and normally I’d be willing to keep watch for bystanders but tonight I don’t care much. Let them have a show to enjoy.

Tossing the belt he had on somewhere off to the side I rid him of his trousers, dominating the scene. “I want this to last but I’m desperate after five weeks.” I whined. I did not allow him to choose what pace he would rather stick with. “Give me what I want. Answers and attention.” Moving in for the kill I felt the ground lighten up from underneath my feet. I wrapped my legs around his midsection and locked my ankles to keep myself steady. He stumbled still teasing the clasp of my bra.

My body was freed from the confines of my brassiere, leaving me open for the taking. Andre granted my wish. He fucked the soul out of me up against the glass but tenderly and lovingly. We traded off with the power of getting the beauty of both worlds. What feels like angry, make-up sex carried on out to the hot tub that’s acquainted with the room. I gasped for new air, gripping his hip and palming his lower back to force him into me.

I needed a resting place for my head so I sought out the rim of the tub. My brief moment of desiring to speak ceased to exist as he touched two of my favorite spots. My outcry made me tearful and oh so sad. Sex only places a bandaid over our issues but a lovely bandaid it is. We carried on in the hot water and later transported our affairs back inside the room.

The time has come for us to use our words again. Tying my robe closed I lifted my hair up and out. With a heavy heart I studied Andre from several feet away.

“When did you begin to feel the shift?” He asked me, barely looking over his shoulder.

Clearing my throat I swiped my glass from the desk, taking a sip. “Sometime after Jo’s fifth or so doctor appointment. I think..”

Dre’s insincere snicker ruffled my feathers. He took a long drag of the blunt he’s been working for half an hour. Putting it out he sucked in a fresh wave of oxygen only to take his time blowing it back out. “So Ali is the root of your issues with me?”

“Let’s be adults about this. You know damn well that’s not what I’m getting at nor is that what I’m saying. Maybe it was the stress of waiting for all of the test results to come back..” my sentence ran off as did my feet. I walked myself across the room to look out onto the night sky. Finishing off my champagne I built up the courage to explain a selfish mistake I made so long ago. “I still feel guilty for my comment. I didn’t mean it then and I didn’t mean it now. The waiting and re-testing was backing me into such a dark place that I traded in hope for fear. That is no excuse and I have to live with my idiocy at that moment for the rest of my life.” Turning on my heels I zeroed out the space between us. I placed my hands upon his shoulders, molding to his shape wanting to ease the tension in his upper body. “But you were there. You didn’t give up on our son even while I had doubts and bombarded you with my sadness over the matter.”

Inching closer I captured his lips, entangling us to each other for round three. Speaking about our kids brings me back to consciousness. All of the wild sex that we’ve had since Jorden was born has surprisingly not created another child. This troubling and confusing separation has not hindered an inkling of romance. All that’s different is the lack of title.

“We’re supposed..to be talking..” he hummed. I fondled my way into his lap, going head first.

“Not right now we aren’t.” I denied. I’m in the mindset for a specialty cocktail I can’t put a price on. My skin began to heat up from under the robe. It’s my throat, mouth and hands that are the hottest points of me currently. I used my hands, feverishly wanting to bring him all the way up so I could stop and get him angry. His fingers ran through my hair finding the right coordinates to hold my head still. His body shuddered underneath mine as I ramped up my speed so he can feel like he’s in control of the moment. He’s never been allowed to dominate my pace when I’m pleasing him. I was very transparent in the beginning stages of our romantic relationship about why he can’t force me down or hold me still. In exchange we have worked out an arrangement to where he feels like he’s in control but he’s really not.

The overflow of saliva and the tiny bubbles running down over my fingers and wrists turned up my pride. It’s also the sweet melodic manner in which my name and God’s fills the air. I always honor him with his few moments of fame in thinking that I can’t handle his measurements. There are times when I doubt myself. Like the generous man that Andre is, he never comes short with complimenting how charming my tongue is. The hyper speed of his shaft and juevos sliding in and out my mouth brought on the most beautiful feeling. My scalp is tingling from the massage he’s giving me while I’m finishing the one I’m offering him.

His call out to the heavens is making me greedy. I’ll admit to it and I want him to know. Halting, I knelt before him and pushed him down, ultimately mounting him. Our mouths reunited in sync, no exceeding dominance displayed. My back touched down against the plush comforter, he removed my robe, and I used my hands and feet to disrobe him of his pants.

“Cuidarme, yo soy tuyo.” I begged. Our bodies meshed together resembling a fly getting caught in a Venus fly trap. My internal organs accommodated his endowment warmly. I saw darkness as he set himself up with the right momentum. “Ay Dios!” I called on our Heavenly Father several times over in the most disrespectful way. Tightening the grip I have on him I forced eye contact needing to face him head on.

His affirmation of how I’m making him feel calmed my nerves. “Making love to you always feels a step above incredible..” he told me once again.

Blissfully grinning from ear to ear I matched his strides, watching him react just the way I wanted him to. “Mm,” I hummed. “..te sientes mucho mejor.” I moaned heavily. The darkness took over again, shutting down any verbal conversation for the rest of this fight to the top of the mountain.

————  ———— 

Staring at the moon aligned with the stairs I rolled my eyes listening to Andre ramble. He’s been on a hot streak for what seems to be pushing eternity. In reality only a few minutes have lapsed.

“Can you please sit down? Your pacing is unsettling.” I advised him.

“I can’t believe you would even stoop so low to bring Jorden into our problems. I know the testing was hard on you but you can’t place the blame of our downfall on him.”

“I never said Jo was the source of our problems! All I said was that the outcome and the process itself brought me down to a place I had never been before. I have no reason to blame our children for the reason our relationship was severed and I never will. You’re taking my words and running with them trying to make me look like a shit mother and I’m not. I always put our kids first. The reason we’re apart is because of tu y yo! There are no other parties to blame except for us so don’t ever drag anyone into our shit. We made this mess together so we are responsible for cleaning it up!” Standing up to walk around I meddled in my hair only wanting to reflect.

There’s the fight about Gerrard’s initial arrival. That was the first time that Andre accused me of being unfaithful. He hurt me down to the core. I was already battling how to deal with the slander brought to my name and in my place of work. The pain from Gerrard’s doing and the assumption was double what I was expecting.

Exhaling through my nose I picked up my hair, rubbing my scalp. “Dígame, was Gerrard’s first appearance something that stuck around for you? Did you think about that day anytime afterward?” I asked him.

“Sometimes, yeah.” He confessed.

“Why did you do it? I have never understood why you felt the need to question me after our history. I don’t think I’ll ever understand. I’ve never once accused you of anything even at my lowest point so I’m just trying to put the puzzle pieces together here.” As I met his eye I put in a strong effort not to look angry.

Andre’s shoulders fell as he ran his hands over his head. “I just got scared. I had a moment of weakness and took it out on you. I was sorry then for the way I behaved and I’m sorry now. I will forever be sorry.”

“I know. That’s number one. Numbers two, three and so on. Gerrard coming around the second time, the psychos you once called family, Chris… There’s so much heavy shit in your past and in ours as a unit that keeps me up some nights.” Letting my arms fall I crossed them over my chest.

“Are you a-”

Stopping him short I held up my hand swiftly. “I am not angry. I am not sad. I don’t know what I am.”

My shoulders gained weight. I dropped my head to one side feeling my muscles loosen up.

“I have a feeling that I-my mistakes are a part of our downfall. Amongst other things now that I’m diving deep into our past.” He says.

“Que otras cosas? Dígame por favor.”

He claims that all of what I mentioned are the strongest points that broke the very foundation we’ve built. I deny it all. There’s got to be something else that we are missing.

“I owe you my life babe and I know that you hate hearing about my suicide attempt but it’s relevant. That moment in my life will forever be pertinent to many conversations that we share. That memory, despite how painful it is to both of us, plays a key role in why I am the way that I am today. I still don’t see what you see but I do know that I don’t want to lose you.” He resumed the massage on my shoulders, making me feel warm again.

“A little to the right please.” I suggested. He followed orders eliminating all tension in my upper back. “Mira, I don’t take pleasure in giving you the ring back. Deep down I just didn’t feel right wearing such a statement with the way I was feeling. The way that I’m still feeling. I’m not sure how long it will take us to get back to our old ways but I don’t want to lose you either.” I faced him sliding my hands up his chest. “I did not come here to argue and go back and forth. I want to get to the root of the problem hoping that we can find some middle ground and work our way back to normal.” I used him as a place to lay my head.

“Agreed.” He solemnly voiced.

[boyslaughplus]

2nd Brassica Bonus Short Story

We spontaneously wanted to do something nice for April Fools this year but ended up posting this story days later on our Blog. Now we resurrect our Tumblr by posting this here as well. Have fun reading this cute story from when Hans hasn’t turned into a flirt yet, and was still a teen! (oﾐﾟﾛﾟﾐ)o

On the first day of the fourth month, almost a full decade ago, the rulers of all kingdoms allied with Auxtome convened to discuss and negotiate matters that were of little interest to a certain adolescent princess named Avril. Matters like infrastructure, trade agreements, and other things that made her yawn just at the thought.

Within Poisson, her country, the princess was quite famous for being energetic and mischievous, rather fitting with the deep red color of her hair. But no one minded because she was also aware of her duties and never failed to fulfill them. Still, full days of economic discussions were just about last on the list of things Avril wanted to spend her time with.

Thankfully, her parents were the ones attending the conference. She only accompanied them to make her debut among all the young royals that would be at the palace. And while that too had its downsides as far as she was concerned, the prospect of spending two weeks in Auxtome and meeting new, possibly interesting people still left her excited.

Their carriage was passing through Auxtome’s capital, its streets adorned with flowers and decorated festively to welcome the esteemed guests from all around the continent. Even as her mother spoke to her, Avril could hardly tear her eyes from the window.

“The conference begins right after we arrive, but the crown prince of this land, Prince Hans, has volunteered to give all young royals a tour of the palace. He is about your age. I trust you will dress… appropriately for the occasion?”

Avril had no need to look at her mother to recognize the look she was giving her, and the meaning it was meant to convey.

“Of course mother, I have brought garments suitable for every occasion,” she replied.

“Good,” her mother acknowledged, pleased, and turned back to her husband now that they were nearing the palace grounds.

Avril smiled to herself. An entire day without her parents or retainers promised to be delightful. And she had a plan to make the most of all the possibilities that were already racing through her mind.

Atop the foyer stairs of his family’s palace, Prince Hans was waiting for his guests long before the first one arrived; his posture sublime and his smile well practiced. At only 13 summers he was quite young to be given such an important duty, but he had long established himself as reliable and well-versed in social affairs. Next to him stood his half-brother, Lorens, a few years younger and much more prone to show it. Hans didn’t dislike him per se, but it was always exhausting to have him near during official business. Or when he wanted some quiet. To his relief, he would only stay through the greeting.

All around the room were attendants to aid the guests and lead them to their quarters before escorting the princes and princesses back once the tour was set to begin.

“Could you quit your fidgeting?” Hans asked his half-brother as he glanced to the side. “You’re representing our family today, just what would our guests think of us if they saw you right now?”

Lorens sighed deeply and tried his best to copy Hans’ demeanor.

“But no one’s here yet. It’s tiring to stand still for so long.”

“Practice makes perfect,” Hans replied sternly. “You’ll learn to endure before long.”

Before long unfortunately only described how long it took for Lorens to forget his discipline again. But Hans was used to this.

As the first guests arrived, Hans stepped down the stairs for the greeting and raised his charm to the max. Lorens remained in his shadow, politely participating in the greeting but drawing little attention. Although he didn’t show it, Hans felt quite relieved.

The guests were so plentiful that even the astute crown prince had trouble remembering all their faces and names immediately, but he knew there would be a second greeting once all the young royals assembled for the palace tour, and the coming days left enough time to memorize all the names of their parents.

And thus, the time for the tour quickly arrived!

About a dozen young royals now gathered in the foyer, from nearly just as many kingdoms; one of them from the kingdom of Radix and another, the youngest prince hailing from Theotherkingdom. Although Hans couldn’t seem to remember his name, or face, no matter how hard he tried.

The last royal to introduce themselves was one with hair as deeply red as cherries, who was dressed in clothes so dashing that even Hans felt a hint of jealousy.

“I am Avril of Poisson. Pleased to make your acquaintance, everyone.”

“Likewise, Prince Avril. Thank you for joining us today,” Hans smoothly replied and proceeded to announce the schedule for the day.

Unbeknownst to him, Avril smiled to herself that her deception was a success. Everyone seemed to share Prince Hans’ impression that she was a prince—a boy—and while she felt no desire to be one for more than a few hours, Avril was quite thrilled to spend the day as the other princes’ equal and not a potential future bride.

With the introduction out of the way, Hans lost no time to begin the tour, leading the group of royals past every notable part of the palace. As such, it went on for quite a while!

As he talked about his home and its long history, Hans couldn’t hide his pride. He made sure not to ramble, still there was no shortage of anecdotes coming from the young prince. Most of his guests seemed quite captivated. But Avril felt her boredom reach critical mass.

“And here we have our palace’s library,” Hans continued, elegantly gesturing towards it, ever unaware of the princess’s disinterest. “No other library in the entire kingdom, maybe even the world, has such an extensive collection of magic tomes. Some of them are so rare and powerful, that they are locked within a separate chamber.”

For the first time since the tour started, Avril’s ears perked up.

“Not even I am allowed to enter it, but rest assured, the rest of the library is still as exciting as it is stunning.”

The tour continued and Hans led everyone past the royal family’s private chambers, through luxuriant halls filled to the brim with paintings of all the noble figures of Auxtome’s history, and many more attractions until they reached one of the larger banquet halls the palace housed. Prince Hans turned to his guests, an unwavering smile still on his face.

“Now then, I’m sure all this walking on top of your travels has left you with quite an appetite. Our chefs have prepared all of our kingdom’s finest specialties, so eat to your heart’s content. If there is anything you need, our attendants will be right at your service.”

As he wrapped up the tour and exchanged some more pleasantries with a few of the other royals, Hans looked around to make sure that everything was in order.

The first thing he noticed was the absence of his half-brother. He had been sure Lorens would have joined again by the time food was served. Not least of all because Lorens’ mother probably urged him to build connections with the other kingdoms’ royals.

And then Hans realized that a certain red-haired prince was missing as well.

Politely excusing himself from the conversation, Hans beckoned his personal attendant over.

“Say, have you seen Prince Avril?” he whispered so no one else would hear.

“No, my lord. By the time we reached the banquet hall, he was already gone.”

Just for a second, Hans furrowed his brow.

“And you thought not to inform me of this? We have to find him immediately!”

The attendant apologetically bowed, but Hans was already rushing towards the door, slowing down halfway as he realized the others might notice something was wrong if he didn’t.

His pace quickened again as soon as he was out of sight. As he backtracked the path they took to the hall, Hans looked around, growing tenser by the second. If something had happened, it would be his responsibility.

A commotion near the library finally drew his attention. Most of all, a voice he knew well.

“Lorens? What is going on here?” Hans asked as he saw the younger prince standing inside the library, shaking, surrounded by a group of tense looking guards.

Lorens’ face lit up as he saw the other.

“Brother! You need to stop them!”

Hans shot a questioning glance towards the guard closest to him who gulped, before stumbling over his words.

“M-my Lord, it is not how it looks. We heard a sound within the forbidden section of the library and came looking for an intruder, only to find that one tome is missing.”

He hesitated, glancing over to his fellow guards who were suddenly immensely captivated by the floor.

“A-and Prince Lorens right next to where it should have been.”

Hans sighed and slowly turned to his brother, raising a brow.

“I didn’t take it!” Lorens protested, immediately understanding the unspoken question.

“You heard him,” Hans said to the guard, primarily out of a sense of obligation. “You don’t intend to question the word of a prince, do you?”

“O-of course not!” replied the guard. “We never suspected Prince Lorens, but we still have to inform the king and queen of the missing book and his trespassing.”

Now it dawned on Hans what his half-brother wanted him to stop. Once more he turned to Lorens, who he’d never seen with such a pleading look on his face. For a moment Hans thought about what he would say. Then he turned back to the guard.

“I shall give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you mean to fulfill your duty, but all such a report will accomplish is that it draws attention to the fact that someone could steal one of our most prized artifacts from right under your noses. You’ll be lucky if you just lose your jobs.”

The guards flinched.

“But what should we do then, my Lord? Hiding the theft would surely be worse!”

“Isn’t that obvious? Search for the thieves! Who knows how far they might have gotten during all this time you wasted here.”

“Y-yes! Of course!”

The guards frantically spread out to search the area, leaving the princes on their own.

“Thank you, brother! I knew you would help me,” Lorens chirped.

“It was nothing. Had you been more confident, you could have solved this on your own; don’t forget that you are a prince!”

The younger prince’s enthusiasm dampened a little, but he nodded in understanding.

“So what were you doing in the forbidden part of the library?” Hans asked, his suspicion that Lorens might have taken the book not entirely quelled.

“I just… I wanted to learn. I’m not making any progress with my magic training.” Lorens quietly replied, a pout forming on his face. “The books there are about powerful magic, right?”

“They are. But that’s hardly where you should look for knowledge if you are struggling with the basics. Now let’s get you out of here.”

Hans didn’t wait for a reply before turning around and walking out of the library.

Lorens only hesitated for a moment, still he had to run to catch up with his brother.

“Wait, where are we going?” he asked, slightly out of breath.

“Your room. If there’s a criminal on the loose, you shouldn’t stroll around the castle on your own.”

The young prince stopped in his tracks, visibly displeased at the notion of having to remain in his room for a yet undetermined amount of time, but he continued to follow without complaints.

Once his half-brother was within his chambers, Hans turned back to the door only to be held up by a hesitant voice.

“What about you?” Lorens asked.

“I’ll have to take care of our guests until the situation is resolved.”

“That’s not fair, I want to help, too!” the younger prince protested.

Hans looked at the other, giving him as much of a sympathetic smile as he could muster.

“You’ll help me by staying out of trouble.”

“Okay…” Lorens relented.

Back in the hallway, Hans gestured the guards to lock the door to Lorens’ private quarters.

While it hadn’t been a lie that Hans worried about his half-brother being on his own while an intruder roamed the palace, it was only true in the case that Lorens himself wasn’t the thief. Locking him in for the time being was sure to avoid further problems in either case. Hans was quite pleased with his pragmatic decision. But the issue of the vanished Prince Avril still weighed on his mind, so Hans hurried back to the banquet hall. In the best case, Avril had joined the others by now. And even if not, Hans couldn’t stay away for too long or it would reflect badly on his hospitality.

Prince Hans did his best to appear more composed than he felt as he strode through the doors into the hall. The other royals seemed to enjoy the buffet, and there were no signs that anyone had caught wind of the commotion at the library.

Stifling a sigh of relief, Hans joined in with the crowd just to be seen, hoping his brief absence hadn’t been noticed by too many. He had barely finished a first round through the room when something red caught his attention from the corner of his eye.

Avril was back.

Making sure to appear unfazed, Hans approached her.

“Prince Avril, we haven’t had the pleasure of conversing since our greeting. I hope the tour was to your liking?”

Avril smiled at him, a hint of mischief in her eyes, but Hans didn’t seem to notice.

“Oh yes, it was quite long, but your palace is impressive indeed.”

Hans relaxed at her words, sure she would have said something if her brief absence would have been due to unpleasant reasons.

“The library especially,” Avril added, looking into Hans’ eyes just a little too deeply, a knowing grin on her face.

Confusion overcame the prince. Was Avril insinuating that she saw what happened there? Or might she be the culprit?

“That’s true, the library is among my favorites as well,” Prince Hans said, for the first time struggling to keep up his smile. “Would you like to visit it again? Maybe pick up a book or two?”

Hans failed to hide the silent accusation within his questions, leaving Avril visibly amused.

“Why, that sounds wonderful. Another book would certainly do no harm.”

Now Hans was sure that she was toying with him, but without proof he could not accuse her so lightly.

“Great, just give me a moment, then we can leave.”

Hans gracefully stepped on a small stage near the buffet, usually used for musicians, and it didn’t take long until all royals in the room had their eyes on him.

“My esteemed guests, I hope the food was to your liking. From now until dinner, you are free to spend your time however you like. You can return to your quarters or enjoy some recreation at one of the many facilities you have seen today. If there is anything on your mind, do not hesitate to approach me or the attendants that will be serving you for the duration of your stay.”

As soon as it was socially acceptable for Hans to leave, he returned to Avril, who he had never let out of his vision.

“Well then, shall we go?” he asked, his smile more forced than usual.

The walk towards the library was tense. Should Hans be mistaken, an accusation of this scale would surely cause heavy repercussions not just for him but potentially their standing with Poisson as well. If he was right though…

They passed Lorens’ quarters, and a thought made Hans stop in his tracks. Did his half-brother maybe see Avril in the library? Was he not the thief but a witness, perhaps?

“My apologies, I just remembered that I have to ask my brother about something. It will only take a second.”

Tensely, Hans made the guards unlock the door and stepped into the room. But the prince he was looking for was nowhere to be seen.

“Lorens?” Hans called out as he looked around the room. “Now is not the time to play tricks, I need to speak with you!”

Avril followed him into the room and promptly walked towards the bed.

“Hey, what’s that?” she asked, holding up an old-looking book and feigning ignorance.

Hans paled on the spot. It was a tome he had never seen before. Surely the one that was stolen!

His mind was racing. So was Lorens the culprit after all? Did he escape somehow after realizing that Hans still suspected him? But then why was the book still here…

The grin on Avril’s face ultimately told Hans the truth.

“It was you, wasn’t it?!” he let slip more bluntly than he had ever spoken to another and immediately covered his mouth in panic.

Avril simply laughed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she teased and started flipping through the book.

“Stop that! What have you done with Lorens?”

Hans slowly regained his confidence now that he was sure he found the thief, but her casual demeanor still confused him deeply.

“Nothing. I just took pity on the poor boy. Locked away by his own brother, it was quite heartbreaking to watch.”

“Half-brother. And this room is certainly not a prison!”

Avril closed the book and stepped closer to Hans.

“You're right, breaking him out wasn’t even difficult.”

Hans gasped at the ease with which Avril admitted breaking into a prince’s quarters and taking him away.

“Where have you taken him? What do you want? Money? Is this a scheme to gain the upper hand in the negotiations?”

Avril’s smile briefly faded before she burst into laughter.

“Why are you always so serious? No wonder the tour was duller than Poisson’s tundras. I just want to have some fun!”

Hans blinked in confusion.

“Fun? This is a game to you? Stealing an ancient artifact and abducting a prince are grave matters!”

Avril sighed theatrically and tossed the book over to Hans, who clumsily caught it before checking frantically if it was undamaged.

“Relax. I never meant to keep it, and your brother is just fine. He even went with me voluntarily.”

“Of course he did,” Hans cursed under his breath but felt some relief that Avril seemed to harbor no malicious intent. Her actions caused him a major headache nonetheless.

“Well, fine. I’d be willing to let all this be bygones if you just tell me where he is.”

Disappointment showed on Avril’s face.

“What? But it just got interesting…”

She fidgeted a little, clearly reluctant to say anything more. Hans remained stern.

“Alright, I give in,” she eventually said. “He’s at the top of the eastern watchtower.”

“Atop the—” Hans blurted out, unbelieving, but quickly found his composure again. “That is absurd. You would have never managed to take him there in such a short amount of time.”

A hint of a smile reappeared on Avril’s face.

“Are you sure? I also broke into the forbidden part of the library and this room with no one noticing. I’m quite skilled~”

Hans opened his mouth to retort, but paused. Avril was right, she had already done what he believed to be impossible. At least a chance that Lorens was really in the tower existed.

“Fine, but you’ll come with me. I won’t let you out of my sight again until this is resolved!”

A broad grin spread across Avril’s face.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Prince Hans did his best not to complain as they ascended the stairs of the eastern watchtower. Not just because it took them minutes and climbing stairs wasn’t exactly his favorite pastime, but because Avril kept whistling a cheerful song. Drifting slightly off-key every other bar, and he could tell it was on purpose.

Two flights below the top, he lost his patience.

“Is it your goal to torment me, Prince Avril, or is there a deeper meaning in this noise I just can’t see?”

“Prince Hans, how could you insinuate such a thing!” Avril replied, acting playfully hurt. “I simply like the echo within this tower. And the face you make when you’re trying to hide your annoyance~”

Hans paused and turned to Avril.

“What face?” he asked, genuinely unsure.

“This one,” Avril said cheerfully. “The fake smile you just barely manage to keep up. Unless someone looks you in the eyes for too long, or notices that it’s just a facade, or maybe both, and—”

“Enough!” Hans shouted—his face bright red—and turned away. “I don’t know what I did to you to deserve this, but please cease this mockery.”

For once Avril stayed quiet and the two of them silently continued their climb. Shortly before they reached the top, she softly spoke up.

“There is no deeper meaning. And I’m not trying to torment you. I simply thought you could benefit from loosening up a little.”

“Loosen up?” Hans asked unbelieving. “I’m the crown prince of this land, such a luxury isn’t within my grasp.”

“See, that’s why you’re so boring,” Avril said and passed Hans, who had stopped on the stairs. “Being the crown prince is all the more reason to let loose any chance you get. As long as you fulfill your duties, no one can even get mad at you.”

“And just what would you understand of—” Hans began to retort as he followed Avril up the stairs, but then they reached the top of the tower.

Which was utterly empty?

“You lied to me!” Hans complained as he stomped up the last few steps. “Lorens was never here, was he?!”

“How mean! I think I just misremembered. Maybe he was in the western watchtower?”

For just a second Hans contemplated the possibility, but he had given the red-haired royal the benefit of the doubt too many times already.

“Oh no, I won’t believe another word you say! You sent me on a wild goose chase for nothing but your own enjoyment.”

“I think a wild goose would be much harder to catch than that docile little brother of yours,” Avril replied matter-of-factly.

Prince Hans stared at her for a moment, overflowing with a powerful mixture of anger, annoyance, and a few other emotions he had trouble deciphering this very second.

“You… I… gah!”

Without another word, he stormed off as Avril burst into laughter behind him.

He could hear her follow down behind him not long after, and even as he sped up, she suddenly appeared right next to him.

“Wait up, where are you going?”

“Downstairs,” Hans grumbled, not keen to be roped into yet another of her pranks.

“Aw, but you didn’t even take in the view, it’s quite stunning.”

“I know, I live here.”

Avril fell back a few steps as she noticed his disdain, but she wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Maybe I overdid it a little. How about I tell you if you’re getting closer to your brother’s location to make up for it?”

Hans quietly contemplated her suggestion. Of course it could be another ploy to make him run in circles. Still, maybe Avril really was remorseful and if he had to search the entire palace anyway…

“Very well, my prince. But if I sense so much as the hint of a lie, I’ll inform our parents of your misdeeds today.”

Avril promptly picked up pace and caught up to him.

“That won’t happen, promise!”

Hans wasn’t entirely sure if it was the first time he had seen the other royal smile without any kind of mischief in mind or if he just hadn’t seen her smile so up close, but he felt a lightness in his stomach that he had trouble rationalizing.

He couldn’t like her; not like that. Especially because she was a boy! Or so he thought. It was quite the confusing situation for the young prince.

The two of them had soon searched the entire eastern half of the palace. Avril did little but nudging the other prince into a different direction when he appeared to be stuck, but she thoroughly enjoyed their unconventional game of hide and seek. Hans on the other hand grew ever more flustered to spend so much time alone with the red-haired prince. His mind was racing, trying to come up with explanations for the surge of new feelings he experienced while they were in close proximity.

As time went on, his searching became less and less thorough, eventually just boiling down to a question of “Is he around here?” that was always answered with a simple “No.”

When he grew tired, Hans sat down in one of the palace’s lounges and Avril slouched down next to him with posture so unbecoming of a royal, it was almost offensive to Hans. As if out of reflex, he straightened his own to be even more perfect.

“Say, are you sure you’re not a peasant who just happened to sneak into this tour?”

Avril looked shocked, or maybe just surprised, but she heartily laughed before replying.

“So your silver tongue does have some edge to it. If I pester you a little more, do you think you might permanently lose that stick up your a—”

Hans jumped up, a distraught look on his face.

“Prince Avril, don’t utter such a vulgar word within this palace!”

“So if we go outside, it would be okay?” she asked, amused.

“Well, I mean…”

As many other times this day, Hans was at a loss for words. He still wasn’t used to this feeling. No one else had ever made him feel like he wasn’t in control, and the more it happened, the more unsure he was if he truly despised it.

He took a deep breath.

“I don’t know? Get your a-ass outside and try it if you want.”

The deep blush that appeared on Hans’ face was about as amusing to Avril as the words that caused it, but most of all she enjoyed watching him lose the need to always be proper. Some might call her a bad influence, but she truly believed she was doing him a favor. And herself. Because her day had become significantly more enjoyable since coaxing the crown prince out of his shell.

“Shouldn’t we find your brother first?”

Hans’ expression darkened slightly.

“We’ve already searched almost the entire palace, and all remaining rooms are off limits. Besides, what need do you have for finding him? You know exactly where he is!”

Avril feigned mulling over his words.

“Off limits? Just which rooms might you be talking about?”

A realization dawned on Hans, and he didn’t like it one bit.

“Oh no, you didn’t,” he whispered sharply before storming out of the room, his destination more than clear.

“Did what?” Avril asked innocently as she jogged up to him.

“Don’t act like you don’t know, you’ve hidden him in my personal quarters, haven’t you? The one place no one but me and a select few servants are allowed to enter!”

Avril chuckled.

“If you put it like that, it makes me want to go there all the more~”

Without another word, Hans hurried to his room. The guards were still in place, and normally he wouldn’t have believed that anyone could get past them, but as he stepped inside he saw… Lorens. Lying on Hans’ most luxurious carpet surrounded by a pile of his magic books.

“Brother!” Lorens happily exclaimed on reflex before his expression turned sullen. “You found me.”

“Of course I have! But what were you thinking, hiding in my quarters?”

“Prince Avril told me to. He said he’d let me look through the stolen book if you didn’t find me.”

Upon hearing this explanation, Hans shot an angry glare towards Avril, who sheepishly smiled back at him.

“You should know better than to take part in such foolish ploys! Don’t you realize that he simply used you; made you complicit in his crimes?”

“No offense,” he added towards Avril before questioning just who he was angry at.

“I’m sorry,” Lorens grumbled and got up from the pile of books. “I just want to become a better mage. Like you.”

The words got stuck in Hans’ throat, but he had no chance to reply anyway, as Avril stepped in.

“Aw, you can’t get angry at him, can you? He just wants to be more like his big brother!”

“W-well, there are better ways to go about that,” Hans deflected, still flustered.

“Why don’t you teach him? You even have that special book with you.”

Just then Hans realized he was still clutching the book Avril stole from the library. He went through multiple stages of panic that others might now think he was the thief before concluding that no one else in the palace would even know what the book looked like.

“It is not yet my place to teach,” Hans said sternly.

Avril now joined Lorens to put on her best puppy eyes.

“Aw, please, just a little. I wanna see some magic, too.”

It took quite a bit of begging, but eventually the two of them wore Hans down.

“Okay, fine! But I’ll just go over the basics. We need to return the book before my parents hear of its absence.”

A celebratory cheer went through Hans’ chambers and its perpetrators expectantly sat down on the chaise longue. Hans began reciting what his magic instructor taught him years ago, much to Avril’s disappointment who had expected a much more hands-on presentation.

“In essence, the core of magic is to manifest a will, and turn it into reality. Our world, however, does not allow its balance to be upset. Anything you gain will be taken away in equal measure. Estimating these risks is the greatest skill a mage can have.”

The only one still captivated by Hans’ lecture at that point was Lorens. But even his enthusiasm dampened when the words sank in.

“Wait, no matter what you do, there will be downsides to your spells?” he asked, for the first time grasping this most basic concept their magic entailed.

“Indeed, though not all consequences are negative per se.”

The younger prince seemed to think for a moment, only to get up, suddenly looking rather bored.

“Hm, I’m not sure if I want to be a mage then. I’m gonna get some food.”

And with that, he was gone. Hans stared at the door, both caught off guard and somehow unsurprised that his half-brother would be so quick to give up for such a half-hearted reason.

Avril stifled a laugh but spoke no further of Lorens’ sudden departure.

“What a fool,” Hans mumbled to himself. “But maybe I’m the fool for expecting any different.”

“Well, to be honest, you didn’t exactly make magic sound exciting,” Avril said and promptly yawned. “Can’t you just show off a spell or two? That’d be much more fun than all that boring theory!”

Hans sighed and began returning all the books that were strewn around the room back to the shelf Lorens took them from.

“There are no spells, like you’d find them in fairy tales. The technique is always the same, just the will you manifest differs. Of course, the difficulty increases the more complex said will is, but—”

“Then show me that!” Avril interrupted him, her excitement rekindled. “Do you think I could learn it, too?”

Hans hesitated as he looked at Avril, who stood so close to him he thought he could feel the warmth of her smile. He averted his gaze, a soft blush on his face.

“W-well, if you have talent, it might very well be possible.”

The crown prince proceeded to explain the basic technique he spoke of and showed her an application of it that had no significant downsides: making a piece of paper float through the air. Upon completion of the spell, it would simply fall to the ground where it would remain for as long as it floated previously.

As simple as it was, Avril was delighted. Hans even made it fly in ornate patterns, which made her want to try it all the more. For a while that was all the two did, Avril concentrating on her will and the piece of paper she meant to free from gravity’s effect, while Hans observed, correcting her form and giving advice from time to time.

“There! I think it just moved!” Avril exclaimed excitedly, but what little distance the paper may have floated upwards became nothing again right that instant.

“Don’t let up your focus. A half-manifested will harbors unpredictable dangers!” Hans said, still deep in his instructor role.

They continued for a short while longer, but Avril could not repeat her earlier success.

“This is harder than I thought…” she grumbled as she sank down to take a break.

“Don’t fret, most magic novices need at least a month before they first see any kind of success,” Hans tried to comfort her. “Still, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we really need to return the book! Dinner is only an hour away.”

“Alright, alright, just give me the book and I’ll put it back.”

Avril got up again to reach for the stolen tome, but Hans quickly grabbed it.

“Oh no, I’ll go with you. I won’t leave you on your own with this book again!”

“I can’t break into the library if I have to take you with me,” she retorted slightly irked that he still didn’t trust her. Though she couldn’t fault him either…

“Why not? How have you broken in, anyway?”

“Duh, I climbed in through the window,” Avril replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

At first Hans thought she was joking. But as she quietly looked on, it dawned on him she spoke the truth.

“Through the window?! Do you know how far up we are?”

Now it was Avril’s turn to look at him in disbelief.

“Yes? But if you don’t lock your windows, that’s still the easiest way inside.”

“Well, I will not risk my neck by clambering up the palace walls! We’ll have to sneak in through the door.”

“Fine, but don’t blame me if we get caught,” Avril relented and took Hans by the hand to lead him out of the room. Hans hardly managed to form even a single coherent thought until she let go again.

By the time they reached the library, most guards that Hans had sent to search for the thief had returned to their positions. They didn’t think twice about Hans entering the room or even about the book he was carrying, but going through the door to the forbidden section would be another story.

Hans led Avril to a part of the library where they were on their own to think of a plan.

“And if I try to distract them?” she suggested.

“That won’t work. They’re more alert than usual, so at least some would remain at the door.”

“Then I’m out of ideas. Why don’t you just use magic?”

By now Hans knew Avril well enough to realize she wasn’t joking, but the idea still seemed absurd to him.

“Magic? I may as well stab a knife into my leg right here and now. Who knows what may happen if I just willed this book back to its rightful place.”

Avril shrugged.

“I didn’t say to teleport it back, we could just turn ourselves invisible and walk right past the guards.”

Prince Hans drew breath to object, but as he thought about it, he had to admit that the idea wasn’t half-bad. He cleared his throat as he composed himself again and calmly replied.

“Very well, I still don’t like the risk, but we may as well try.”

He had never attempted to turn invisible before, but it shouldn’t pose any more problems than another form of transmutation. As he began to put a spell on them, Avril joined in, following through with what she had learned earlier. Whether it actually helped was hard to discern, but soon they were invisible! Even to each other.

“It worked!” Hans exclaimed, unable to hide his excitement at the success. “But I can’t see you, Prince Avril. M-may I hold your hand again? Just… to know where you are?”

He half expected her to laugh, but instead he felt her hand reaching out to him. The prince clumsily took it, and the two made their way to the door of the forbidden part of the library.

Hans’ heart was pounding as they sneaked past the guards, not just because of stress. To his relief, the spell held up, and they made it inside with no problem. Avril lead him to the shelf she had stolen the book from, and Hans quietly returned it.

“That wasn’t so difficult now, was it?” she whispered.

“N-no,” Hans replied, ever conscious of her hand in his. “Now let’s return before we’re visible again.”

No longer than it took to go back, were they invisible, and Hans let out a sigh of relief as they reappeared. Avril let go of his hand, and as disappointed as he was, he felt quite glad too because his own had started to become rather clammy.

“That was fun!” Avril said with her usual carefree smile that no longer irritated Hans.

“Indeed, it was,” he admitted truthfully. He couldn’t remember when last he felt so free of his princely burdens. “Now shall we get ready for dinner? I feel rather peckish.”

To that Avril agreed quite readily, and for the first time in hours, they parted ways to each go to their quarters.

For once, Hans wasn’t the first to arrive. It took him quite a while to pick out his outfit, since he wanted to impress. More than usual. He was only apart from Avril for a short while, but it made him realize something that had crept up on him the entire day. He felt drawn to this prince. Like he had never felt before. And even at the risk of sullying his reputation as a perfect crown prince, he wanted to confess to him just what he felt.

The hall was already filled with many royals, even more than earlier that day, since even the adults were present now. As he looked around hopefully, he couldn’t find who he was looking for. His heart ached a little as he strolled across the room, turning his head towards anything red he spotted. But it was never the prince he longed to see.

Just as he began to doubt if Avril was even there, he felt a gently tap on his shoulder. His hope renewed, he spun around and saw… a girl. In a dress more beautiful than he had ever seen. A girl with deep red hair and a smile he would never mistake for someone else's.

“P-prince… Avril?” he hesitantly asked.

“Princess. But otherwise, yes,” she said cheerfully.

Hans still couldn’t believe his eyes.

“B-but, earlier you were—”

“Wearing more practical clothes. It’s not that easy to climb in a dress, and I didn’t want all the princes to approach me during the tour.”

Prince Hans nervously swallowed. Just as he accepted having fallen in love with a boy, Avril sprung yet another surprise on him! But his feelings hadn’t changed. Unlike his assumptions of who he felt attracted to.

“So… have you no interest in being approached at all?” Hans asked and blushed further as he realized how transparent his question was.

Avril raised a brow but still appeared cheerful.

“What, you’ve seen me in a dress for just a minute and already feel the need to confess to me?”

“N-no! That need was there even before!” Hans blurted out and quickly looked around if anyone had overheard.

Avril laughed warmly.

“So it wasn’t my imagination then. I suppose I don’t mind if it’s you who expresses interest~”

The relief Prince Hans felt was immense. He once again composed himself and looked at Avril, who suddenly seemed even prettier than before. Hans could hardly tear his eyes from her. So much so that…

“Oh no,” he whispered as he realized. “Our spell from the library… I’m afraid it’s recoil just began.”

All across the room, the royals turned their heads to the stunning young couple. Even besides being good looking under normal circumstances, now they weren’t just visible, they were hyper-visible. No one in their vicinity could look away from them without considerable effort!

“My, then we better look deserving of all this attention,” Avril said, not fazed in the slightest, and linked her arm with that of Hans.

At first the prince felt a little self-conscious under everyone’s stares. But as the evening progressed, he rather relished them. Before long, the magic induced stares had faded but the two of them were still more than eye-catching.

“Why did you play all these tricks on me?” Hans asked when quiet had fallen over them for a short while.

“Hmm,” Avril replied thoughtfully. “You were just there. And I was curious if there was more to you than that boring, perfect prince you always try to look like.”

Hans appreciated her straightforwardness, but was a little disappointed that was all there was to it.

“I already told you, I have to act that way since I am the crown prince.”

“No, you don’t. I’m the crown princess of Poisson, and I’m doing just fine.”

Prince Hans gasped.

“You are what? And no one admonishes you for your mischief? Or your manners? Even dressing as a prince to fool other royals?”

The princess laughed once more, and the sound filled Hans with warmth.

“When you put it like that it sounds pretty bad, but I promise I can act the part when I have to! In fact, I work all the harder to fulfill my role if it means I can afford such freedoms in return,” she said and brushed a strand of hair out of her face, almost looking bashful for once. “You should try it too, all the pressure is easier to deal with if you allow yourself to just be free sometimes.”

Her words resonated deeply with Hans. It seemed like such a simple truth, but also one that is easy to overlook.

“I will,” he replied and took her hand into his. “If you show me how, I’ll gladly follow.”

[twitchesandstitches]

Goddess Terezi’s Avatar Day

(Commission for @alt-hammer of an AU where Terezi is a dragon goddess in a fantasy-themed setting and Karkat is her destined lover, perpetually reincarnating to be by her side; on a special day, she takes on a form able to be in the mortal world and goes on to live with him, as a 8ft tall hyper curvy MILF of a dragon-troll lady!)

-------

The old temple took up a good portion of the mountainside, but it did not look like a built thing, but a grown thing; stone polished and plated with a process to create something like luminous gemstones made the elegant curves dominating its design mirror the teal forest growing right around it, all the way around the fertile lower slopes of the mountain down to the ground below, over the ancient pathways and roads that now led to ruins and strongholds.

It was old. The towns and villages, in a patchwork of alliances that were slowly building into a true nation, lay in the shadow of giants and echoes of power. The means to construct something like that had been long forgotten; the towering walls were hundreds of feet high, supporting spires that rose higher than that, and the means to create such wonders were long forgotten.

The temple glistened and shone, and it was easy to see it even through the trees. And through the forests, along the old road that was still visible beneath the undergrowth and tangling tree roots that made up so much of the forest floor, a stout troll walked.

His name was Karkat Vantas; today, in deference to the warm weather, he wore a thin cloak trimmed in fur from beasts he had likely taken down himself. His walk was awkward, staggering upwards, like a crab forcing itself to walk forwards.

The cloak was gray, but the trim was a bright red. The same red as his unique mutant blood, with nary a hint of the lime-green shades the rest of his family shared. And that color was significant.

(There was a tradition, among the people who lived in the shadow of the temple and remembered who it honored, and who worshipped the teal dragon goddess.

Rarely was a child born with blood as red as a human or the clattering, playing-piece people of ivory and jet. And such children, individually only arising a few hundred years or so, were bound to this task.

Upon reaching age, they were to travel to the temple alone, and commune with the goddess. From the moment they were born, the oracles spoke and the scriptures read, they belonged to the goddess. Blood, soul and heart.

And they came back, changed, and claimed.

Karkat had been no different.)

If someone watching him had been a flying creature, able to watch him through the trees, they might have seen him walk through the forest with confidence, to the stairway leading to the temple and where the forest shied away, as if in respect to the goddess it represented.

And then, to watch him walk up those steps as though he had every right to it. He walked with the assurance and automatic knowledge of someone who had lived there for years, though his visits had been infrequent.

(Karkat Vantas had dreams.

(In some, Karkat was a woman; other times, subscribed to no binary gender identity. In some, he was a priest to the dragon goddess, or a tinkerer, or an alchemist, or every job known to trollkind. There were lifetimes beyond measure, as many as there were stars in the sky. And in the dreams, a great ocean of memory rolled onwards, gently flowing into him.

(And so intimately familiar. As though he was not learning, but remembering something he had forgotten.

Something from a lifetime ago.

And the shape of something might change, over the ages, and remain what it was; a ship could have all its parts replaced but remain the same ship. And so it was with him. He had been there, in some way, for a long, long time, across so many lifetimes.

He would keep coming back, as many times as needed, to stay with her.

His goddess.)

The hypothetical viewer would have then seen Karkat approach the doors, over a hundred feet high and elaborately engraved with ancient murals, beautiful but their meaning lost to time. There were many figures there, dragons and blindfolded figures. At the center was a vast shape, broadly troll-shaped with the wings and tail of a great dragon, of impossibly curvaceous frame that spoke of an ancient culture’s idea of fertility and motherly awe. All the mural surrounded her, and over her heart was a small figure, its horns nubby and shaped like a crab’s claws.

No tool, magic (though truly powerful magic in these days was a rare thing) or skill of troll or any of the thinking people of the world had been able to pierce that doorway, or force it open. Not even the sharpest tool, strongest siege engine or mightiest spell could so much as mar its surface. But as Karkat approached, the door silently opened.

Not very much, it must be said. The great doorway mural split apart, dividing the image of the dragon goddess into two; in a nice bit of artistic inspiration, one half held a sword, blade pointed upwards to be employed against the unjust. And in the other, she carried a pair of scales, and they were heavy with many books and scrolls: these symbolized the laws she had bequarted to mortalkind, in antiquity. The gap was just large enough to allow him in; it seemed to him that a great wall had parted, just for him. He looked up, feeling faintly dizzy at how large it was. He couldn't even see the mural past a certain point, not from this angle. It just kept rising up, into the mountainside.

For a moment, it was dark, but at his approach (and his approach in particular), teal lights shone from within, invitingly.  He walked inside, once more getting into the groove of things, and the door quietly closed behind him.

And there, the hypothetical viewer from above would see no more of him, or the insides of the temple. For it was a secret place, once home to mystery cults. Perhaps it still had a single such cult; a mystery cult of just one person, bound and dedicated to the goddess across many lifetimes, needing only age to remember that this was so.

Karkat saw, now, what an outsider never would, for this temple would open to him alone now.

The inside of the temple was, largely, an enormous and open space. Oh, it wasn’t plain; many doorways, some almost as big as the big doorway outside and others small enough for him, led to side chambers, ritual places to attend to other rites or personal preparations, or dwelling places for the priesthood and acolytes in ancient times. The vast space arced slightly up in a massive dome, maintaining structural integrity with secret methods of architecture, though perhaps the massive tree-like pillars (set to look as though they were growing, and carved of solid teal crystal) helped support the weight. There were many ancient treasures spilled across the ground in great piles, like a dragon’s hoard or a troll junk-pile, and Karkat walked past them, strolling past gleaming masses of precious metals and priceless relics (swords, books, statues, anything that might be of worth, all richly decorated to shameless excess), the contents of which could have allowed him to purchase entire cities and live like an emperor for the rest of his life, with complete indifference.

The biggest treasure pile was at the end of the hallway, so massive that the hills of golden coins and other gilded relics were as individually big as buildings, massing together into riches out of a miser’s most desperate dreams. It was massive beyond measure, large enough to build a city upon, and the whole of the chamber seemed to center around it, the architecture gently fanning out to emphasize it:

And upon that pile, dwarfing it, was the goddess herself, or at least an avatar of her. Either way, she was so big that she was a landscape unto herself, a beautiful mass of teal hillsides and rising plains, impossibly gigantic, and radiating so much power that it drew the mind directly to her.

Karkat stopped a few hundred steps from her, halting in mid-step with a slow ponderousness, perhaps stunned by the sight of her. As he always was, in fact; his red eyes widened, his grim expression softened into a genuine smile, and a hand went to his chest, over his heart, his claws toying with a little necklace he’d been given on their first meeting.

(“You made this, back when we first knew each other,” she had told him then, her voice booming and soft all at once, as she slid it from a claw tip onto his body. He’d looked at it then; the double shackles of his own sign, and the Omega sign of her worship, intertwined together.)

His claws ran along it. Not furtively, like he was embarrassed or scared. His fingers moved slow, with a calm that seemed quite atypical of him. All the more surprising, with the power and intensity rising from her.

Easily hundreds of feet tall, terrifyingly enormous even though she was laying down, the goddess shifted position. In the tangled mass of wings, arms and tail, a large hand appeared, scales glistening against the gray-green of her body, and it slid against the back of her head. Horns longer than a street tilted backwards as she raised her head.

Lips thick enough for him to lay upon or even slide into parted; a vast maw opened to the world, glowing faintly from within, and a massive yawn pealed out like the ringing of a bell. The goddess blinked once, though she had no need of sight, so perhaps it was just for the look of the thing, and she adjusted herself slightly. The treasure pile was compressed beneath her massive body, and as a huge belly slid forwards, and one gargantuan breast flopped sideways, displacing thousands of tons of gold; a flood of gold came raining down, stopping a short distance from Karkat.

He barely noticed, and just kept staring adoringly up at the massive teal wall that was her body.

Again, the goddess yawned, making a show of pretending she hadn’t noticed him there. But in truth, she had known he was there ever since he’d stepped foot into the forest; since he had woken up, she had felt him, even as she had sent the call. She cracked an eye open teasingly, and her eyes were red; not like his eyes, which were simply the color of his mutant blood. Her eyes were blinded by some unknowable injury in the ancient past, or her eyesight traded in a bargain for the wisdom that had led to giving mortals the first laws.

Now, she leaned forwards, her snout sniffing in his general direction. At that moment, she looked very much like a dragon, and she grinned widely. Her jaws were very broad, and it ought to have been frightening seeing all those teeth, some longer than he was tall, but he felt a sudden thrill of heat instead.

With a grunt, she sat upwards. Her shoulders, fairly broad by troll standards and relative to her gigantic size, looked narrow compared to how massive her lower body was, entire lakes of gold moved aside as a butt large enough to be two entire hills shifted upwards, her thighs digging into the gold to prop her up. They flexed, their enormous sides touching despite being fairly far apart, and she dug her knees into the ground to prop her up, and up she went: taller and taller she seemed to become, rising to her true height.

Scales glimmered across her entire body; they sparkled, glistening in shades of green and blue and true teal, so that she shone like the stars on a clear night. Those were dragon scales, overlapping together and smooth enough that it was easy to mistake them for skin, but for some large outcroppings of barbs and spikes running along her elbows and knees,

Now she was kneeling, and her backside loomed high and far out; an enormously plush backside, projecting out perhaps nearly as much as the whole of her arm, and as high as her waist, deep as her mid-thighs. Her gigantic butt moved faintly with only the most minor movements of her legs, and then another dragonish element of her body made itself plain: a thick tail lashed out, nearly as thick as Terezi’s entire body, neatly sliding over her immense buttocks and rising up behind her, and beyond her. It went on, and on, longer than she was tall, until finally it’s tapered tip flickered down, a wall of teal tail curling around Karkat’s body, as close to him as she could presently manage. Red spikes jutted out, mirroring the shape of her horns.

Her upper body arched upwards, with her tail to counter balance her. A massive pair of wings, sprouting from her back, flared out so that a shadow fell over Karkat and the whole of the inner temple. Leathery membranes shone like polished glass, wider across than she was tall, and they flapped once, twice: it helped her straighten up, and then Karkat saw her upper body loom up high, a landscape onto itself!

Her breasts moved; faintly, softly. They bounced briefly, though nothing so brief or whimsical as that word suggested. Their movement was a ponderous thing, like the movement of world-plates in motion, rising up and then down with grand importance and a sense of impact that nearly knocked him off his feet. Oh, they were big: they dipped down to her navel (or what would have been a navel, if trolls had been born live), the bottom slopes reaching out further still.

There, they arched somewhere around her waist, so that regardless of the direction your sight approached, there was amplitude to be spared: either breast or backside, she was enormous in every conceivable way. Outwards her divine breasts swung, just as voluminous as her backside, heavy with something like godly milk: ambrosia, perhaps.

A huge belly propped them up. Not merely the plump figure the murals outside suggested, her belly dipped heavily, projecting out even farther than her breasts did, wider even than her body except for her singularly massive hips, which were simply far too big to be easily equaled. It was clearly a pregnant belly, its shape a distinctive gravid shape, and from the way Karkat’s eyes glanced at the curving walls of its shape, he was clearly the father.

Now she posed, her arms stretching up above her, spikes clicking together, her claws sliding against each other, and she yawned once more, wings flaring out again. She arched her back to him in such a way as to show her massive bustline for best effect, her whole body jiggling and wobbling faintly.

He grooved faintly in place. She was so big, and so beautiful, the reality of her so wonderful and immense that it defied conscious comprehension. She slowly turned, her eyes blind, but she grinned impishly, the frill-like structures as the side of her head flapping against her short hair. The light caught her scales: deep teal across most of her body, darkening to a much darker green along her limbs, the bottoms of her breasts (like her own glittering bra), her body below the waist, and the outermost length of her tail, and the effect the light produced as it moved down the transition from one shade to the next was a mesmerizing sight, all against her magnificent frame, and the barely concealed pleasure at seeing him.

She was, technically, clothed. In another manner of speaking, she looked naked, but covered head to toe in elaborate golden decorations; thousands of pieces of spirals and interlocking meshes of metal webs encircled her breasts and belly, around her arms and a complexity of rings, all over her entire body. Even her face was covered, with a thin veil adorned in thousands of jewels, their sparkling facets catching the light like her scales did.

Now, she grinned at him. “‘About time you got here,” she said, her voice booming in the confined space, and purring too, all at once. Then, her hand moved out, incredibly fast, and her claws closed around all he could see, around him, and then he was being lifted up. He had a sensation of movement, rising high into the air, and then-

Wetness, warmth. A gentle sucking pressure around his entire body, and then a mental pressure that was much the same, her mind pressing against his own, filling him with the same love and affection she felt, propelling it through his entire body; it meshed with the sensation of her mouth engulfing his entire body, and he was helpless before it, euphoria and peaceful submission all blending together inside him.

It felt like bliss.

She ended the kiss, holding him in her hands still. Karkat, rather soaked but content with that, looked up.

He called her Terezi. Terezi Pyrope. The name had welled up, from an old memory, and that itself was odd; it was from a lifetime so long ago that he couldn’t even recall it properly. If it was long enough ago, his past lives grew harder to hold onto and examine, or to relive.

(“It's like straining leaves for tea,” he’d told her, once. It had been a dream, but that didn’t matter; when he slept, she stepped into his mind, shaping his dreams into a space for them to be together, in lieu of this day’s possibilities for more direct physical interaction. “The memories I can get, its water flowing through. But there’s a lot that just doesn’t filter through.”

She’d made a thoughtful noise at that. “Languages change. Cultures live and die,” she’d said quietly. “It’s still you, but past you is WAY different.”

“I think I hate past me.”

“Why.”

“Whoever they were, they’re a real pain in the ass to deal with.”

She’d laughed, then. “You know something? Past you said the exact same thing, about an even older you.”

“Shit, that’s another reason to be mad. They stole my bit!” She’d laughed at that; he had no idea why. He’d been completely serious, then.)

So, he didn’t understand the context, or the person he’d been then, or even what the words meant. Terezi wasn’t even the right word; it was the closest he could get to pronouncing it, but she didn’t seem to mind.

He minded, though. That was close to her secret name, her true name, and the true name of a goddess was no small matter, especially one as important and powerful as her.

Now, Terezi leaned close. The jewelry adoring her ear-fins jangled as her ears flopped, her eyes seemed to reflect him, and her breath was strangely cool as it came whistling out, like the wind from a cave filled with secrets and treasure. Some legends said her guts were the birthplace of thought itself…

“Hold that thought, I might show you in person later,” she cooed. It wasn’t a threat; she was fully capable of ‘escorting’ him inside her without harm, if she was so inclined.

They were married. It had been a private ceremony, but as she put it, not so much making a bond as resuming one; Karkat had always given the vibe of being truly spoken for, and until she’d revealed this to him, he’d understood why people got that impression.

Now, the world began to dip low. They were getting closer to the ground, Karkat realized. Terezi’s body shuddered, and she lowered herself, the ceiling above them not simply framing Terezi’s body or making a space for her to occupy, but moving away from them. The realization struck him:

Terezi was shrinking.

“What’s this?” He asked, crowding towards her palms for safety. The ground was getting closer, and the ceiling was getting further away.

Terezi chuckled. “Trying to fit in.” She smirked. “A hundred foot dragon-troll sticks out. I don’t think I like being as teeny-tiny as you, but I can manage being a little bit close to you, so long as you can still sleep on me.”

In moments, she had dwindled below fifty feet. Now they were getting even smaller than that; Karkat thought of something to say (“How are you doing this!?” “You could do this the whole time?!” and of course “OH GOD WHY IS THE GROUND COMING SO FAST LIKE THAT.”)

But by the time he could have thought to say any of that, they were almost to ground level.

Thirty feet; she was, and then twenty five feet. Twenty feet, and Karkat realized that the ‘surface’ below him, her palms and fingers, was gone; she held him still, gently adjusting herself so that he descended into her arms, his body snugly fitting there. She continued to shrink, and held him closer still, pressing him deep into her voluminous bustline and gravid belly, holding him very tightly, and at last, she reached the height she desired.

Karkat stayed in place, feeling her coolness, his arms instinctively wrapping around her shoulders and meeting behind her, and he was barely aware of the appealing softness of her body still engulfing him. Eventually, he cracked an eye open and saw the ground below him; further below than he was used to, but not so much as when he was with Terezi.

He blinked and looked into her eyes; to her face.

He blinked. She bent forwards and kissed him on the snout, and it was one way for him to realize that she was hugging him to her body, suspending him off the ground, and he was sunk deep into her cleavage.

He was beginning to have a full body blush. Which is a funny thing considering that he had been intimate enough with her to be fully pregnant, but some people are just naturally bashful.

“You like seeing me at fun size?” She said dryly, her lips pushing into a mock kissy face.

“You’ve been this size before!” He blurted out.

“Technically speaking,” she said. “Not in the physical sense.”

“What do you call the times we’ve been together, then?”

“A complex bit of magic involving mashing up the divine realms with the physical one so we could be together.” Terezi hugged him tighter, more sincerely. “Whereas this is me going to a lot of effort to make a body that can actually live among mortals.”

Karkat blinked. A shocking possibility came to him, in a rush of wild excitement. “You mean…?!”

“Yep.” Terezi gently put him down. She was, even shrunk down, incredibly huge, bigger than any troll or human could ever be, and when he reached the ground and looked up, the outward curve of her pregnant belly was over his head; if she walked forwards, his horns could have been used as a dock for her belly. “I’m gonna get to see how you explain to everyone you’ve been married to,” and she gestured to herself, “All THIS.”

“Eh, some of my friends know. Kind of. Sort of.”

“Oh, that’ll be a FUN conversation,” she cackled. She turned, her tail lashing around him, impishly smacking him on the butt; he peered up at her grumpily, and her butt seemed to fill his whole world, diminishing his annoyance instantly. He reflected that her frame was somehow even more imposing at this size; it was one thing when she was big enough to be a landscape, and was too big to really fit into his framework in some ways, but her being just large enough that doorways would prove to be a serious problem was more… grounded. It was easier to understand, and the size of her kept drawing his attention.

She still glittered, the revealing things she wore having changed size with her. “You brought the clothes I asked, right?” she asked, grabbing one of the spiraling ornaments that ‘clothed’ her left breast, gently yanking it off. He turned around in a hurry.

“Yeah. Oh, oh. That’s why you wanted the clothes; to change into them.”

“Yeah, what did you THINK I wanted them for?”

“Honestly I don’t even ask questions anymore; I figured you just liked collecting random stuff.”

Terezi held up a finger to make a dramatic counterpoint. She paused. She thought it over. “Screw it, that does sound cool. Objection withdrawn.”

He grabbed a bag he had brought, and his eyes averted, dropped it in front of her. She took it and, removing the garb that represented sacrifices made to her, changed into the clothing.

------

Dave Strider yawned, half-sitting in a large bin filled with soft, square objects that were pretty generic looking, the results of his mother’s experiments with magic; conjuring up physical objects was a tricky matter, but at least these were soft and made for good bedding, or something to sit on.

He lay in front of an entrance to the town, wearing the uniform of the guard and a short, single-edged blade presently sheathed. He didn’t give off the look of a stern guard, and instead gave the impression of a discarded puppet, his legs hanging slackly out of the bin. He didn’t mind; if it was an opportunity to take a nap, he’d take it.

Dave’s eyes flickered, behind a mirrored visor. It was earlier than he expected, he thought, noticing the sun’s position. He followed its position to the forest, which the town had expanded out of, clearing out bits at a time as it slowly had grown over the years. In the distance, he saw the mountain, and the temple upon it.

Vaguely, he wondered when Karkat would be back.

His thoughts drifted from a friend to his fiance, Jade, and his calm expression flickered into a more genuine smile as he thought of her. Getting off work couldn’t come soon enough.

He lay back into the pile of moderately generic objects, and stayed there for a while. This part of the world was wild; few cities and towns were left, those that remained supplying their own agriculture and making everything on hand. The occasional call to adventure was the main of distant treasures and weapons, or the precious scrap of knowledge that came now and then; Dave had done it in his youth, until he’d proposed to Jade, and knew something about it, and that their town had abit of fame as the last place where the dragon goddess was actively worshiped.

Something to be proud of, he supposed.

He noticed some motion approaching their way, and soon they were two figures, coming out from the forest, from the general direction of the temple. Pilgrims, perhaps? He didn’t see the point, since the temple was sealed off to everyone…

They came closer, and soon he recognized one of them as Karkat, looking more cheerful than he’d ever seen him. It was a little unsettling, actually. Any greeting was far from his mind, because there was the other person walking with him. Dave’s mouth dropped as they approached, and he quickly closed it, trying to regain his composure.

There was a lot of wobbling involved. And… jiggling… and massive hips, barely confined by a sporty robe, swaying heavily from side to side with the kind of heavy force that you got when something was so big that just moving one way or another was like shoving your way around.

Dave’s mouth stayed open. The brain processes stopped. Big, he thought numbly. Jiggly… bouncy… oh WOW she is big…

This thought remained stubbornly present as the pair came close. Karkat stopped, with an aura of fierce pride. Beside him was a troll woman, the most outrageously curvy person Dave had ever met, and with the likes of Jade, that was some stiff competition; she was at least ten feet tall, so big that his head was forced to tilt up to meet her eyes, and there wasn’t much point. Her breasts jutted out with an intimidating heft, so far out that he could barely see her face at all.

She grinned, standing proudly, her hips almost four feet across and aggressively tilted as if to show off how massive they were. Her robes were short, cut at the knee and short pants beneath them, for maximum range of movement. She had a few other requirements, too; a massive pair of wings flapped behind her, apparently big enough to lift her off the ground, and a large tail moved behind her, its length moving around Karkat and its tip sliding into his hand for him to squeeze. Given that she was roughly twice his size, it was a convenient way for them to come close to holding hands.

Mutations like this weren’t unknown, especially in places of high magic. Still, these dragon-like traits, and such enormous size, were distinctive, and so where the glittering scales over her teal body. She stood out brilliantly against the dull red of Karkat’s visible body. Dave was strikingly reminded of the way Jade’s preference for greens contrasted against the reds he liked to wear, and perhaps also because his buxom fiance’s figure was perhaps a less extreme version of this giant woman.

The troll woman grinned, showing sharp teeth beneath thick black lips. “‘Sup,” she said. Her belly hung out, so big and heavy that she had to have been pregnant. Perhaps a few months along, from the size.

“Uh, hi.” Dave glanced at Karkat, finding some of his normal cool. “She, uh, a friend of yours? From out of town or something?” Granted, that was unusual, but maybe someone so big had the strength to just bowl over anything threatening her.

“You could say that, yes,” Karkat said.

“I’m kind of famous, actually,” the troll woman said, grinning even wider. The way she grinned was a little worrying; she half looked like she was trying to unhinge her jaws to swallow him whole, if it seemed pressing. Dave gulped. “You might not be able to place me, though.”

“Really,” he said, unable to think of anything else to say. He shook his head and tried to focus. Okay, she was big… she was fucking humongous, actually, but he knew big girls. He knew super busty girls. Okay. He was going to be mature and think smart, now. “What’s your name?”

“Terezi Pyrope.”

“Hrm. I know some Pyropes in town. You a relative?”

“I might be,” she said, with a vaguely evasive air that suggested there was a lot more to it than what she was saying. He filed that under ‘kinda suspicious’.

“Hrm.” He gave Karkat a sidelong look, as if to say ‘where’d you find THIS big lady?’. He shrugged. “Well, hope your journey down here went okay. The way here’s pretty dangerous. Karkat run into you and guide you to town or something?”

A faint suspicion struck him. His gaze drifted to Karkat’s hand, on that thick tail, squeezing so warmly, so familiarly. That did… not look platonic. Or like something with someone you’d just met.

“We, uh.” Karkat glanced at her, and said the most extreme understatement in the history of their entire world: “We kinda already know each other?”

Dave tilted his head. “Oh?”

“You know how I told you that I was, in fact, married to someone that you’d never met and couldn’t come to town for important reasons I wasn’t allowed to talk about?”

Dave snorted as Terezi raised an eyebrow. “Man, are you STILL doing that old joke? It stopped being funny years ago.”

“It’s not a joke!” Karkat snapped, bristling so much even his hair stood on end like quills.

Terezi glanced at Karkat and quietly said, “Really, you couldn’t have made it sound less like you making something up?”

“It’s not my fault they hear the literal truth and won’t take it at face value.”

Dave shrugged. “So what are you guys getting at-” He paused. “Oh. Ohhh. No way, NO WAY.”

“Karkat was telling the truth,” Terezi said.

Karkat radiated smugness.

“You two are married,” Dave said, disbelief in every word.

Karkat’s eyes narrowed. “...Why’s that so hard to believe?”

Dave was famously unflappable, even stern when he was affecting his Big Time Hero persona. He prided himself on keeping his cool. He’d faced down the legendary Rapmaster Hydra, spitting rhymes and spitting poison almost as toxic as those rhymes; he’d played a pool of dice with gangster sirens in the reality-traveling Casino of the Damned and didn’t blink when they tried to make him wager his soul; he’d even spent about five minutes in the dreaded Crypt of Terrors. The less said about that, the better.

Through all of it, he’d never so much as blinked.

Now he was genuinely lost for words.

Terezi saw a moment, and grinned while her tail curled Karkat closer to a massive thigh. The impact made her leg jiggle as he sank slightly into her with a goofy grin, and she clapped a hand against her gravid belly. “And we’re expecting, too~!”

Dave stared, desperately trying to process all this. Karkat’s married. Karkat has a girlfriend that’s a smoking hot giantess. Karkat’s MARRIED to her. She’s pregnant. Karkat married a super curvy mutant girl. Okay wow her thighs are bigger than ME, kind of called Kark’s tastes right there.

Karkat is MARRIED. And they’re expecting kids, already?

When the hell did all that happen?

“Wow,” He said eventually. “You work fast.”

Terezi laughed and Karkat scowled again.

“Try and act cool in front of her, I beg you,” Karkat hissed.

Terezi reached forward, her massive breasts swinging forward and nearly smacking right into Dave’s face. The sight of bountiful cleavage about to swallow him was a familiar one, but not scaled and blue-green, and then her knuckles found the top of his head, pushing aside his helmet, and rubbed friendly noogies onto him. “I like this guy!” Terezi said cheerfully, giving him a parting bonk on the noggin for good measure.

She heard a thump and a muddy splatter. She sniffed downwards, and sensed that he had fallen down into the mud; her breast had smacked right into him, so hard he’d been propelled right off his seat.

“Sorry?” She said, surprised to feel embarrassed. She never had to deal with THAT in the ethereal planes…

-------

About an hour later, the sun was getting slightly higher into the sky and in the market, there was a decent crowd milling around, traders and customers and both at the same time, mixing together with a potent smell. Their calls to passerbys, verbal advertisements, occasional arguments or loud haggling, it all mixed together into a loud noise, as good as a crying caw-bird to remind you that noon was nearly there.

Jade Harley’s ears, more canine than human, flickered at the noise; she ambled from the storeroom, her broad hips so wide that she had to walk very carefully through the door frame. “‘Scuze me!” She said reflexively to the doorway, even though it was inanimate, moving in the careful way she’d learned to move through a doorway with hips like hers.

She carried a box; it clattered with flasks, tubes, glasses and other containers of different sizes (some only a few ounces, others in the gallons). It was hard to make it out; Jade quite liked to experiment on herself, as indicated by the dog-like ears poking through her thick black hair and the long tail wagging behind her, and some subtle adjustments to her body, but her potions had also given her a bustline so massive that it completely covered the potions. She walked forwards and her breasts preceded her by several feet, slung out nearly to her waist, bouncing and jiggling as her powerful thighs smacked against her endowments.

It all felt very nice; her tail wagged harder, her mouth set in a faint smile, and she came to a work desk in her shop, laden with all the instruments of the alchemists art: complicated machines of glasswork, distillers, purification burners, solvents assembled by intensity, and a small pedestal for the infusion of magic and special ingredients. She put down the box of containers, instinctively taking care to avoid smashing anything with her massive breasts (it wouldn’t be the first time!) and poured some liquids at the ready into the set, readying today’s first potion. One was already ready to be tested, and Jade studied it carefully. After some thought, she poured it into a tube and stuffed that into a pouch at her side. She’d have to test that one herself later!

Eventually, she heard Dave’s voice. Her tail wagged extra hard! She swung out, passing by her assistant (a living construct named Sawtooth, one of Dirk Strider’s artificial sons and she suspected was working for his brother’s fiance to judge her for himself), and making sure not to smash anything over, came into the waiting room.

Dave was there; Karkat too, and what she initially mistook for several other people. She focused on Dave first, and he barely had time to acknowledge her presence before she swept him up into her arms, hugging the shorter man into her mountainous cleavage so deeply that his upper body vanished from sight. “Hi, Dave!” She said cheerfully.

“Hey, Jade,” He said, remaining outwardly calm, only a swooning tension in his face betraying the intense feelings within. He leaned up from her boobs and kissed the side of her face; she giggled and kissed him back, her tail wagging even harder.

She kissed him a few more times, in the manner of love grown mature and comfortable, though rather giggly. It felt familiar to the other pair present there, as yet unnoticed by Jade. She corrected that partly, then, letting Dave slide out from her bustline, and turning her attention to Karkat with a winning smile.

He studiously kept his gaze to her eyes. She smirked. “We don’t usually see you about at this time,” she said playfully, clapping him on the shoulder. “How’s it been?”

“Good enough,” Karkat said guardedly. “I, uh, have someone for you to meet-”

Dave said, “Babe, Karkat got married and never even told us.”

Jade’s eyes widened. “He WHAT!?”

“I told you all the time and you wouldn’t believe me!” Karkat snapped.

Beside Karkat, there was a giggle, rumbling and… dragon-like. Now Jade turned up and, it must be said that she was very tall (enough to tower over most people, even trolls) and so busty that they were almost their own body mass. But then and there, suddenly she felt small.

Which was rather funny, all things considered. She was actually more buxom than the giantess currently filling available space from a good portion of the wall all the way to the ceiling; more buxom in terms of proportion. Whereas Jade was now looking at a legs broader than her, a belly curving outwards above her and big enough for her to lay on, and yes, breasts that she could have fit between with ease, massive potion-enhanced bustline and all… and hardly a sight of the face at all.

The massive troll, glittered with scales and her great wings flapping (and Jade goggled at those features; how intriguing! How cool! She burned with questions; had she been born like that, did she do it to herself on purpose?), leaned over. Her cleavage descended, and Jade found it hard to resist the impulse to admire the view. Now, though, she saw the troll woman’s face; pretty and impish at the same time, though it was objectively the kind of face that got put on grand statues. Some sense of mischief pervaded it anyway. Then Jade saw her eyes; red, and blind.

The troll woman grinned, so widely Jade automatically smiled right back. “Karkat says the best translation for my name is Terezi. So you must be the super-smart alchemist he’s always talking about!”

Jade slowly turned towards Karkat. “Oh? Talking about me, huh? Hope you’re saying good things!”

“Things like you’re the smartest person there ever was and if he ever had to take transformation potions or empowerment tonics, you're the ONLY person he trusts with his body like that.”

Jade grinned, her teeth wolfish and long. It was surprisingly a match for Terezi’s huge fangs. “Ohh, I like her already!” She looked her up and down, still smiling, and brimming with curiosity. “So. You’re married, huh?” She pouted. “And I wasn’t invited?”

“We had to make special preparations for her to come visit like this; it was hard for her to come at all,” he said hurriedly. “Not exactly a traditional ceremony; we didn’t have a regular wedding, you know?”

“Hmm. Well, you get off on that one.” Jade turned around, wiggling her very big and plush butt as she walked towards the door, tail moving thoughtfully. “Sawtooth!”

The tall and thin construct made a buzzing noise in acknowledgement.

“Think you can deal with the shop for today? This is a special occasion! I think it calls for showing Karkat’s love around town!”

He nodded in confirmation. Terezi grinned and said, “Sweet!”

-----

The group of four left not long afterwards, and went to wind their way through the market, though this wasn’t without its own complications.

Karkat had grown up with Jade and Dave, and both of them were used to the problems Jade had developed when it came to confined spaces conflicting with her girthy breasts. Her spatial awareness was not exactly the best, and knocking over carts, stalls, unattended packages or bouncing especially unwary shoppers into the street was a frequent occurrence. It had its own rhythm; a bright impact noise, then something falling away or bouncing away from her bustline (wood splintering when stalls got pushed down and smashed; people falling down into the muddy streets, clattering sounds of glass or other containers going everywhere, the squawking or snorting of miniature livestock dropping) and outraged cries swiftly dying away at the reality of Jade’s breasts came to dominate their whole world, and finally Jade’s frantic apologizing and halting to help them up.

It had been a routine, for a while.

Now, the markets, living so close to her, had learned to work around her. The stalls were further apart than was custo, to allow for the passage of women that were unusually buxom or curvaceous enough for it to be a problem. People had learned to walk not clustered together or keep their things at a level where a hyper-sized breasts might knock it down, and there was a wide lane clear for Jade to walk through.

As they passed through, though, for Terezi to see the town for herself, it became clear that these measures were… Karkat sought for a word. He settled on insufficient.

Terezi trailed behind Jade and Dave, her tail and wings lifted high to show her butt off better. This was probably to show off a little to the dumbstruck townsfolk, with the sound of things crashing or breaking in her wake as people dropped what they were holding or fumbled in their shock at her, but it was probably for Karkat’s benefit as well. She’d insisted on him walking a little behind her (“So you don’t get knocked around by us big girls being all big,” she’d said, while Jade had giggled at ‘us big girls’), and most of what he could see was just Terezi, and mostly her huge butt at that.

Her walk was a massive stride that should have made the whole street shake. An enormous thigh, wider than two of any troll you might name, flexed her butt heavily, so much that it had a ponderous weight as it bounced back the other way when she walked.

Her enormous belly, stuffed with her developing offspring-to-be, jutted outwards, and gurgling faintly, so big that it's teal surface shoved its way through crowds that moved around Dave and even Jade, but didn’t process Terezi fast enough before she kept coming, and gently bowled them over. Her tail would then dip down, lift them back up and drop them to their feet, before going the other way and doing it again with perhaps four people at once, all in a smooth swishing motion.

Their procession moved by one side of the street, and Karkat couldn’t actually see her boobs moving, but he felt the impact of their bounces, not confined particularly well by her robes. He felt bad that he couldn’t find something that fitted better, or displayed less cleavage, but getting tailors to go along with it had been enough of a challenge before her boobs had ripped a plunging neckline into it. He wondered what the view was like for the traders that saw her coming.

He reflected, watching edges of her bustline wobble from behind her (such was their size , of course), that it would probably like watching the world’s most beautiful statue, made in the grand size of old sculptures and colossi meant to inspire, come to life and start advancing on you. A wall walking at you might have a similar effect, but not as inspiring.

Dave walked around others; Jade simply moved forwards, people getting out of the range of her destructive and wobbly bustline but not quite as lucky with Terezi’s belly. Even though she picked them up afterwards without breaking stride, they still looked terribly dazed, and Karkat wondered how heavy that big, maternal belly actually was. They were lucky they weren’t big enough to be in danger of her breast hitting them, he thought.

Terezi stopped, halting that line of observation, and turned aside. Her tail swished, and someone who was too close to her got hip-checked and dropped clear to the ground. Jade and Dave had the same fate, and the wobbling globes of Terezi’s backside innocently swung right into them, knocking them both over. Terezi leaned down, possibly unaware of this. Dave hit the ground backfirst, while Jade fell down upon him, her breasts smothering him completely, to a chorus of their respective cries.

“Oh, hey, this smells fancy,” Terezi said, inspecting a bit of red jewelry, sniffing at the air; she ‘saw’ not through sight, but through a more transcendent awareness of the idea of things, but she persisted in framing it as scent-based perception.

The tradestroll, a mesmerized bronzeblood clearly hoping this would end without him getting smashed about, swallowed. Terezi was bent over enough that her breasts had dipped down, her eyes still on roughly the same level as the tradestroll’s head. Her butt stuck out far and high into the air and even thicker than her thighs, tail arching up like an arc, and her breasts nearly hit the ground now.

The outer swells of Terezi’s breasts pressed against the cart, threatening to turn it over. Her cleavage was big enough, and deep enough, for a troll to slide between. It was very much an intimidating sight, and the tradestroll wavered as Terezi asked about the history of that particular piece. “Ah, well-” she started to say, and went into an explanation of it.

Jade, with some effort and help from Karkat, eventually got up. “Oh, don’t be bashful,” She muttered to Dave. “Not like it's the first time this has happened to you!”

“Gonna have to follow my heart,” Dave said, his expression completely neutral and face totally red. “Gotta follow my muse. If I’m gonna be mortified about my fiance boob-smashing me, well that’s the way it’s gotta be.”

She gave him a friendly punch to the shoulder. “You’re such a dork!”

“Yep. You got a type.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

Terezi left the tradestroll, who’d told her a fair bit about the town’s history. Probably not intentionally; for a short conversation, Terezi’s divine domain allowed her to pick up on associations and the ramifications of decisions, so by simply being told minor things, she would then know what led to those things happening. It gave her more of a sense of how the town had changed since she’d last incarnated.

That was a constant in her life, she supposed sadly. Karkat came back to her, and the world she had helped make constantly. Now it was changing without her.

Her belly rumbled, interrupting that kind of thinking. Jade gave her an appraising look. “You guys hungry?”

Terezi had her own particular dietary needs, and shrugged. “Mm, maybe later, when you finish showing me around.”

“Nonsense, we can pick up something quick!” Jade snapped her fingers. “Ooh, I have an idea. We have a friend on the way from a scenic route. Come this way, please!” She led the way, Dave nonchalantly following her.

Terezi shrugged, and followed them, Karkat in tow.

They progressed out of the market, by a number of homes, wherein Terezi saw other friends and families of Karkat’s circle of friends:

She saw Jade’s half-brother, John, playing with his older cousins Jude and Joey, as their mother (a towering and imposing fuchsia troll) was baking a cake, the smell of which was incredible. And Terezi normally didn’t even like sweets. A small black chess-person, apparently the mayor of the town, was having some kind of very one-sided argument with her before goggling very openly and kind of rudely at her, and Karkat and Dave were quite cross with him for it. He didn’t seem to be bothered.

Dave’s brother Dirk, a very serious man who was apparently in the process of making himself into some kind of clockwork machine-man, waved amiably to them as he did some blacksmithing work on a bar of hot metal, smashing it into shape. For some reason, he insisted on wearing an incredibly ugly hat to set the mood. (“It’s gonna be a shitty piece, so I gotta set the mood,” he said. Terezi was impressed on how he didn’t seem to react at all to her unique look. Maybe Jade’s example had desensitized him.)

They met others, as they wandered through the town, attracting fascinated stares and glances, and more than a little envy at her outrageous frame. More than a few people asked to touch her belly, and she allowed them to do it with a smug grin, relishing the awe radiating from them as they felt her huge belly, and the pressure of the life growing inside her.

Karkat was going to be a father. For some reason, this really shocked a lot of people.

“You moved fast,” Jade said, and it sounded like a joke, but it was strangely thoughtful as they walked up a hill.

Karkat frowned. “I told you guys, we’ve been meeting for years. This isn’t new.”

“Yeah, but. You’re married. You’re gonna be a dad.” Jade’s tone grew softer. “Before me and Dave, even.”

“It’s a lot to take in, is that right?” Terezi asked.

Jade nodded glumly at her. “Yeah. Exactly.”

Soon, they came to a high point within the town, walking up a hillside, where the remnants of the old forest had been entirely cleared away.

Their path was a narrow space between the pens of oink-beasts, and Terezi normally got hungry around livestock, but she was forbidden from consuming the meat of creatures like them specifically, and so she ignored them pulling away from her. She focused instead of trying to move her body through the space between the pens, her big butt and boobs and gut all pinched by the space. Jade was having just as much trouble, wiggling her hips to slide through and her breasts pushed together by the pen’s sides.

Finally, though, they made it free of that impediment and came to the top of the hill.

And there, the town spread out beneath them, towards the horizon. Disorganized neighborhoods, making homes and small businesses apparently at random, with smaller pockets of completely abandoned buildings waiting for someone to take up residence. The offices of the mayor, sawmills and foundries quietly powering away, an ancient library that had been there before the first inhabitants had arrived.

Further away, the buildings thinned out, until there were only open meadows, at the very edge of where the town ended. And past that point, up rose the forest again, encircling the whole town, an alien but somehow friendly presence.

From here, they showed Terezi the lay of the land, and pointed out parts of town to her, so that she built up a rough idea of how it was laid out, and she followed the trail of thoughts and history they didn’t realize pooled in what they said.

They also pointed out what would be her home; it was Karkat’s home, in fact. It sat just outside of town, squatting with a grouchiness apparently passed on from its owner, the teal and red colors still bright. He’d inherited the place when he’d come of age, Dave had said, apparently that every so often a troll was born with his blood color and was sent to live there. They didn’t actually know why, it was just part of an ancient tradition.

Terezi smiled. She couldn’t actually see it, but she perceived it anyway.

Jade smiled up at her. “Come on,” she said. “A friend of ours doesn’t live far from here.”

------

The smell of baking bread was a familiar scent to Jane Peixes, and she’d grown used to it, and still liked it.

She was a thick and broad woman, powerfully built, and she displayed it thoroughly as she pulled loaves of bread out of the oven; her broad arms heavy with muscle, nearly as tall as an ordinary man even bent nearly double over. She was built on lines surprisingly similar to Terezi, in fact; her hips were so big that doorways could be a serious problem, and her hefty gut pressed hard against her apron. Her breasts, though supported by her clothing, still swept out nearly to her knees now, and when she stood up, carrying the loaves with her, she had to hold the pan quite a way out to prevent burns to her chest: her breasts projected out by more than a foot, the lower slopes meet the top of her belly, and it necessitated some careful movement in her line of work.

Jane moved away from the oven, not so much walking or strutting (though she certainly had the hips for it, her butt pressing against her pants with the kind of heavy weight that forces pants to mold to their shape), as apologetically shuffling from place to place. Jane was big, Jane was strong, and Jane was a child of the Peixes matriarch who’d married into the Egbert after a wild marriage with the Harley elder, and thus had a lot to live up to. The pressure had really gotten to her, and she spent most of her life involuntarily cringing back from the world, afraid of taking too much space.

When it came to cooking (and surprisingly enough, economic acumen), though, she really blossomed. She placed the fresh loaves to cool, and felt a surge of satisfied pride at them. As she did, she heard a familiar and much loved voice call out, “Jane! I have someone to introduce to you!”

Jane smiled. “Jade! Just a moment!” She removed her oven gloves and hurried out.

Jade was waiting for her just outside her shop, and Jane faltered as she saw her; well, not just her, or Dave, or Karkat (so unusual to see him around, lately!), but the massive dragon-like troll woman, waving to her.

“Hey,” the teal troll said.

Jane smiled nervously. “Ah, hello, miss! I don’t believe we’ve met?”

She introduced herself as Terezi, and gave Karkat a significant look. Her eyes, Jane realized, were blinded. “Are you okay?!” Jane asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said quickly. “Don’t you worry about it, I can handle myself fine.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Jane’s hands wriggled. “Um… you’re a friend of Jade’s?”

“We just met!” Jade said. “She’s a… ‘friend’ of Kakrat’s, apparently.”

“We’re married,” Karkat said flatly.

Jane blinked. She looked from the grouchy troll she knew, to the towering, incredibly beautiful, and intimidating giantess in the room.

She was grinning like a drawerful of swords.

“I thought you had a type,” she said meekly. “How come I never heard you got married?”

“It was hush-hush, apparently,” Dave said. “Karkat got MEAN, you know. He didn’t invite me, his best bro, to his wedding. What a FIEND.”

“Hey…” Karkat said warningly.

“Or me!” Jade teased, putting an arm around Karkat’s shoulder and mashing him into a massive breast, to his obvious annoyance and embarrassment. “His best bro-ette! He’s so mean!”

“Dastardly,” Jane agreed.

“Hey!” Karkat said.

“An absolute cad,” Dave said, shaking his head.

“We’ll have to cast him out to keep our honor as a township,” Jade said sadly. “It’s the only reasonable thing.”

“I can’t believe you married me with such a stain on your soul,” Terezi said, grinning.

“Oh GODDAMMIT YOU’RE AS BAD AS THEM,” Karkat groused.

Jane giggled. Jade did too, and released Karkat.

The joke passed, and Jade leaned forwards. Or at least shoved her boobs onto a table to steady herself. “I think we’re all kind of hungry. Think you could help us out?”

“Sure,” Jane said, smiling timidly. “I have some loaves that just finished up. That’ll make a fine breakfast.”

“Sure, just a moment.” Jade reached for her purse, and Jane’s eyes widened, and she rushed forwards.

“No, no, I couldn’t!” She said. “Go on, this is on the house! Please!” She disappeared into the bakery.

“Hang on a minute, you can’t-” Jade gave up. “Oh, not again… this is terrible for her profit margin.”

“She does this a lot?” Terezi asked.

“When it’s us? Yeah. Jane’s sweet and she’s kind of a pushover… she’s always giving us stuff, but it's not like the dough is super easy to come by…”

Terezi felt a little bad, honestly.

Jane came back, with several loaves of bread. “On the house!”

Terezi took them. “Aw, but I can’t-”

Jane put a finger to her plump lips. “Shush! You take them!”

Terezi looked at the loaves. One of them had a smiley face on it. Now she felt incredibly bad. “I don’t know…”

“Shush, you! Eat up!” Jane brought up a table, big enough even for Terezi (provided she moved the chair away and just sat down).

All four of them assembled at the table, and took a seat. Jade with her breasts overflowing, Dave next to her, and Karkat sitting on the floor next to Terezi in a show of silent solidarity. She tried to persuade him otherwise, but he persisted; she compromised, just picking him up and plopping him into her lap, and with his back against her belly and growing family, and her breasts over his head, he accepted that.

Terezi swallowed a loave whole, her jaws widening for it as she slid the bread down her throat, its surface pushing against her skin. Jane watched, in scandalized fascination. The others began to eat, and told stories about what they’d been up to; apparently they hadn’t caught up in a while.

“So the guard thing is going pretty okay,” Dave said. “It’s regular work. It’s not FUN, or exciting, but a guy’s gotta do regular stuff, you know?”

Jane nodded at that. “Yeah; I wanted to make artisanal cakes, but there’s not exactly a lot of people wanting to buy those.”

“I would,” Terezi said, devouring another loaf.

Jane smiled. “I thought there was something I liked about you.”

Jade in turn, chewing through her bread and indifferent to the avalanche of crumbs sliding into her cleavage to be lost forevermore (or until the next shower), said “I think we’re probably gonna do a small ceremony, when WE get married. Nothing big or fancy. What’d you do, Karkat?”

From below the table, Karkat’s voice sounded. “Yeah, we went for the small and private thing, as you guys won’t STOP going on about.”

“Next time, make your life sound a little more believable,” Dave said. “Next you’ll be telling us she ascended from the heavens.”

���Yeah, that’d be SUPER weird,” Terezi said, with a teasing grin. “But then, I WAS inside the old temple, you know. Wouldn’t be too far fetched.”

Dave snorted. “Pfft. No way.”

“Temple?” Jane repeated. “Oh, that place Karkat is always traveling to! How’d you get inside that temple?!”

Jade chimed in, “I always thought it was sealed shut!”

Terezi thought very carefully for a moment. But she’d gone through this, many times, and she knew what to say to content them without telling them the quite unbelievable truth. “I guess there’s some kind of magic in me the temple responds to; supposedly, from what I’ve heard, I’m descended from the people that once worshiped there.”

Jade tilted her head. “That makes sense; don’t suppose you could show us in, sometime?”

“Sure,” Terezi said brightly, wondering vaguely if they were ready to see her in her true glory. Ah well. She’d get to that when she needed to.

They ate together, a while longer; sharing interesting stuff that had happened to them lately, or providing her with fun details about their lives. An hour or two, free to be spent like this, dawned. Terezi was still hungry, even after eating her fill; bread was not exactly what a dragon needed.

The opportunity came not long after Jade, a mischievous look in her green eyes (Glowing faintly, a consequence of magical empowerment experiments) tugged out a potion from her satchel. “Hey, guys, check this out.” She wiggled it before them, for everyone to see. “Know what this here is?”

Terezi tilted her head. “It smells good.”

“Oh, it does taste nice, but that’s not the whole thing~!”

Dave gave it a look. “Hey, isn’t that the potion that you used to…” he fumbled in front of him, in such a way as to indicate inflation from the chest.

“Oh my,” Jane said, realizing what it was. “Your… embiggening potion.”

Karkat raised an eyebrow. “Working on improving the formula?”

“Yep!” Jade said proudly. “I get a lot of requests for my kind of… uh.” She indicated her chest with an impish shrug. “‘Enhancement’. So I’ve been trying to make the potions more dependable. They’re kind of all over the place in how much you get out of them; I got this big from a single drop, but other people that volunteered only go up a few cup sizes, if that!”

“Okay that does sound like a problem,” Terezi said, swallowing another mouthful. She gesticulated vaguely, talking with her gestures. “Like… if you wanna market that, or give them out, you’d want something consistent, right?”

“Yeah! But so far, it’s completely dependent on the magic already inside people… how powerful they are, for example,” Jade said. She noticed Terezi’s interest in the potion suddenly spiking, but didn’t realize why. (Namely, Terezi being a living goddess, she was intrigued by what such a potion would do to her, with all the power she held.) “I’m hoping to find something that is a bit more controlled.”

“So, is that one dependable yet?” Terezi asked. Jane nodded hurriedly, looking longing for it. She glanced at herself, Terezi and then Jade, all with genuine longing. Perhaps it was envy, or attraction. Possibly both.

“I dunno!” Jade said, breaking the seal on it.

“Wait a second,” Dave said. “You don’t know what it’ll do!”

“And this is how I find out!” Jade said, a sudden desire to impress Karkat’s super cool wife overwhelming her, and she tipped the bottle’s contents down her mouth.

Her throat glowed green as the potion went down, and then so did her belly. Soon, the glow faded.

They waited.

Jade looked down. She frowned.

She patted her stomach thoughtfully, looking worried.

She started to say, “Something usually should happen by now-”

And Jade stopped, her voice tangling up into a startled squeak, her back arching up and her breasts glowing bright green. They wobbled while remaining completely still, wildly shifting in place and shaking, slowly swelling outwards. They did so silently, flesh not normally making much of a sound, but the same could not be said of her clothing.

The fabric began to tear. She required special clothing, and it was already stressed by the demands of her body, the local tailors not quite up to speed with making things for such extreme bodies; they didn’t know how to make support for breasts that weighed more than oink-beast livestock, or tailor fitting clothing that worked around them. The plunging necklines Jade liked was a necessity as much as a deliberate fashion trend.

They reached a limit; her breasts grew bigger, fluxing outwards by the span of a finger in every direction: outwards, below, forwards, the teardrop shape growing more extreme as the base of her breasts didn’t expand any, so it looked like they were swelling from a relatively small connection point; the contrast made them look even more ludicrously big.

At the sides, her top tore, the stitches popping loo and flapping open as her breasts swelled another handspan out with a wobbling surge of growth. Her top had to be stitched special, following the diameter of her breasts, and these popped multiple stitches, threatening to have Jade experience a very embarrassing wardrobe failure. Now her breasts piled up, over her face and blocking out her vision, bulging from her top, the fabric still struggling to contain her body.

“Okay oh WOW this is a success!” Jade tugged at her fabric, trying to keep it from coming apart. “Does anyone have a spare… anything, to borrow!? I’m gonna have a moment, here!”

Karkat, blushing red at the side of so much of Jade where the front of her top had popped open to show even more of herself, wordlessly removed her cape and tossed it at her. She caught it and covered herself from the front. “Ah, nice! Thanks, Karkat.” He grunted in response.

Dave got up awkwardly. “I’ll… uh. I’ll take you back to the shop, okay?” He checked a time piece. “And my break is almost up. I can drop in a tailor, tell them to give you a hand.”

“Sure, that’d be good!” Jade said, calming down. She squeezed herself, giggling. “Ooh. even bouncier.”

“Jade, please focus, hon.”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay.” She tightened the cloak. “I’m sorry, Jane, Karkat, Terezi! I’ll, uh, try to polish that.”

Terezi was still gaping. She remembered eras when mortalkind had reshaped their bodies with as much ease as changing their clothing but still… that was something! “That���s okay… I’d definitely like a sample of that, sometime.”

“Same here,” Jane said meekly.

“We’ll be keeping the tailors in business, that’s for sure,” karkat said dryly, and it hit them so unexpectedly, they burst into nervous laughter for a moment. “Calm down guys… it wasn’t that funny…”

Jade and Dave got up; for Jade, with a lot of outward jiggling that seriously strained the remaining fabric of her worker’s smock. She staggered out, trying to adjust to her new body, Dave at her side the whole time. She then peeked back in, people outside making murmuring comments, and waved at Karkat and Terezi, her massive body-framing hair swishing as much as Terezi’s tail. “Buh-bye, you guys!” She ducked out, back to her duties.

Jane scooted back. “Um. I gotta get back to it, too. See you guys later, maybe?” She smiled awkwardly, blushing faintly and behind her spectacles, her gaze suggested a hint of what might become infatuation for Terezi. “Feel free to come back any time, the both of you…!”

“Sure thing,” Terezi said, scooting back. Karkat stood up off her, and Terezi rose to her full towering height.

The both of them left not long after, and Terezi explained what she needed right now; he was prepared for it, but wasn’t particularly happy about that.

The two of them headed off, and she followed Karkat as he led her back up the hill they’d come from, towards the outlying regions of the town.

Where the big livestock was kept.

-----

Eventually, this led to the pair of them walking nearer to the forest than most of the town normally went.

Here, the pens rose high and thick, heavily reinforced to prevent the livestock from smashing through or jumping over, or an occasional rustler from making off with the livestock. There WAS a collection box on the paddocks, though; for an informal purchase, someone could take the livestock as long as they paid the price, without repercussions. Terezi was counting on that, too.

Karkat seemed to have something on his mind, too.

As Terezi sniffed the air, looking for the right scent of meat, Karkat frowned speculatively. Shep wicked up on that, and turned towards him. “Something on your mind?”

“Mm, I don’t know.” He mulled it over, and finally said, “Why’d you tell them that thing back in town? That you’re a descendant of priests or whatever?”

“I didn’t say that, specifically.” She raised a claw, thoughtfully. “Just that I have a magic the temple reacts to, and that I’ve HEARD that I’m a descendant of the people worshipping there. I never said anything for sure, and I didn’t lie.” Karkat frowned. “It’s true; sometimes I’ve incarnated as a member of the families that used to maintain it, so we could keep up. Wasn’t an option this time.” She frowned. For a moment, she mourned. For her cult, now seemingly lost to antiquity. For all the things lost, seemingly never to be remembered. For the way time seemed to just flow on, swallowing up even things that a goddess thought should endure indefinitely.

Karkat reached up, hesitantly, and squeezed her hand. She squeezed back, warmly.

“It’s okay,” She said quietly. “I don’t like lying, or something close to it. But I can’t just tell them the truth yet. Maybe someday.”

Karkat sighed. “Yeah. I know.”

She started to say more, and then the words caught in her mouth, her thoughts froze up, and the hunger in her gut, unsatisfied with bread (not that she could bear to tell Jane, who seemed so very vulnerable), demanded to be filled.

Meat.

Terezi followed the scent, and Karkat, blurting indignant sounds to himself, hurried after her.

The trail sooned stopped at a pen, occupied by a breed of animal carefully bred by the Nitram family over the years, and the walls of the pen were especially high, but this wasn’t necessary as the beasts in question so docile, and dense, that the thought of moving further than it took to get to the nearest bit of swill wouldn’t occur to them.

Karkat got a glimpse of one, as Terezi flapped her wings and flew right into the pen and walked through it, striding towards the very one he was looking at. The creatures in question were generally called meat-beasts; variants of cow-beasts with chimerical elements of other creatures wrapped up into a very productive, powerful and dull-witted package.

They were also, in a word, fucking huge. Almost sixteen feet long, the whole creature was, basically, round; a huge mass of succulent meat, so bulky that it curved in a rough sphere, with short but very thick legs to support its mass. It’s head was effectively a tub, with short and nubby horns mostly used as steering for anyone who had to ride and wrangle one of them. Nearly twice as high as a troll, and close to being as big as Terezi herself, it was simply too large for most local predators to be a genuine threat. The creature looked slightly up at her with a calm absence of thought, its eyes staring blankly into nothing as it chewed on a mouthful.

It had to weigh several tons, at the very least, of raw muscle and flesh. Nevertheless, Terezi easily lifted it up with a single hand, raising it high into the air, steadying it with another hand. Her mouth watered, and her belly gurgled, crying out for fresh meat.

Her mouth opened. Her jaws widened. At first, noticeably wider than a normal troll might, and then gaping out wider still.

Karkat, aware that this would be a trend and resigned to it, went off to the relevant paddock and stuffed some money into it. Terezi’s breakfast wouldn’t be free, after all.

And all the while, Terezi’s jaws kept widening, so far that it was absolutely impossible by any normal measure of biology, even glowing faintly as her divine powers allowed her to mold her shape as she pleased. Her throat glowed from within, a teal light shining like a volcano.

The meat-beast made a clucking sound (for reasons no one was especially clear on, besides one Nitram stating ‘somehow, a chicken got into the gestation mix’) as Terezi lowered its head into the impossibly distended, gaping chasm below. She judged her mouth to be big enough to capture her meal, and slowly, savoring the moment, she pulled its head into her mouth.

Now it mooed, the sound muffled and distorted by her throat. The shape of its head appeared, pressing against the skin of her throat.

More of its body slid in as she slowly pressed it down, murmuring deep and savoring noises as her tongue slid along its underside, and she experienced every aspect of its existence, lending it a unique and special flavor.

Her meal slid downwards, her throat greasing the way with copious amounts of saliva that was probably cold, and now it bleated in something approaching, if not alarm, at least awareness that this was a new experience. Down it began to slide, her throat swelling with its body mass and the muscles within her slackening and pulling in turn, its greased path aided by the power of her body. Karkat’s eyes widened, impressed and disturbed at the same time: it was so big! How was she fitting it down!?

Her throat swelled out. By about a foot, and then several feet, and then more. There was seemingly no limit to the give of her body.

The beast began to slide down its inexorable path into the certain doom of her gut. So much meat! Terezi softly cried out, against it, with how good it was tasting already!

God she’d missed real meat. Twitching and thick and solid, already good to dissolve inside her belly, it was almost as good as reverent sacrifice.

Her tongue slid out, growing impossibly long and thick. It doubled back, rolling inside her mouth and pushing it’s hindquarters deeper in, and with that, the beast was being swallowed faster, now its entire front half a big, solid lump in her throat. Her skin bulged out with his weight, by nearly six feet of roundness and tangled forelimbs, giving the strange appearance of a frog.

More and more of it slid in. The massive lump in her throat, trapped by her ravenous body, grew even bigger. Eight feet out… then ten… then twelve… and still more, sliding inwards.

And then, it was just a pair of legs sticking out of her mouth. Now she tilted her head up and, relishing every moment of the heady taste, the pulse against the inside of her mouth, the feeling of something inside her about to become part of her, she gently slurped it down.

The lump in her neck traveling downwards. The front of the beast, which gave no indication that it was bothered by its situation, and then a smaller lumb as its hind legs moved against the inside of her throat. The lump kept moving downwards, disappearing above her breasts…

Karkat thought he heard a splash as her belly surged out, doubling, no, tripling in size, and then getting even bigger as the whole creature settled into her gut. Her belly hit the ground and rolled forwards, skin tight around the image of her meal, a fleshy log extending away from her and nearly sixteen feet out,and above it (her breasts propped up by this last bit) was her pregnancy, a more defined shape compared to her digesting gut.

One to create life, one to consume it. There was poetry, in that.

Now Terezi raised her head again, and produced a small, soft sound that might have been a dignified belch, but even as loud as she could be, it was hard to hear.

Her gigantic belly squirmed, and shifted, not with struggles but her captive prey getting comfortable inside her, even as the digestion process began. The outline softened as fluids began to pour in, not yet dissolving the beast (that would take several hours, at least) but giving it more room to float inside her. Her gut seemed to get slightly bigger, too, and it was already larger than she was.

Terezi slapped her gut happily. Her eyes flickered as her food started to get… pickled, he supposed, for that very digestion to take place. “Ohhh, YEAH, that feels good…!” Her wings flapped, and she flew upwards, over the paddock. She grabbed Karkat, ignoring his angry shouts, and flew off a short distance away.

She alighted near a tree, near the forest, in a secluded place, and sat against the ground.

She held Karkat to her belly; against her pregnancy, and the gurgling lump where her food was being processed, turning it into nutritious mush over the next few hours.

“Hey!” Karkat said. “What’s with the man-handling!?”

“Shush…” she cooed. “I thought you liked being man-handled by me~”

“Okay. Well, yes. Maybe.” He didn’t fight or argue, this time, as she again pulled him close.

He could feel her heart beating.

A calm, deep thudding, and it beat in sync with his own.

Her belly was firm, and the movement of her belly muscles around the massive animal beneath him was strangely… calming. The gurgling sounds from beneath felt so loud that they might have come from all around him. Her arms pulled him closer, squishing him into the upper slope of her stomach, and his head sliding into between her breasts.

“Come on,” she said softly. “Just you and me. Just for a bit.”

He closed his eyes, and held her, letting himself be pulled against her. “Yeah, yeah. Okay.”

She held him to her body, against her stomach and what would one day be her family. The sounds of her digestion soothed them both, and her wings flared as Karkat calmed down completely, and her wings swept forward to wrap over him, embracing them.

It was like cuddling inside a blanket. But the mattress was Terezi, and so was the blanket itself; it was all her, embracing him so completely. And for her, someone who would stay with her always, loyal to the very end… and coming back from that end, no matter how long it took.

She closed her eyes, in relief. Again, to this precious moment they had returned. As they would again and again, like the turning of seasons. Winter had passed, and now the relief of spring was here. As she’d always wanted. As what she hoped it would one day stay.

She held him tighter. She didn’t want to let him go. And then, the particulars of their reunion didn’t seem to matter so much; not the time or place, not the way the world had forgotten her. He was still her Vantas, however the world changed.

And then her belly gurgled again, juices flooding in, making her gut swell a bit. It made Karkat’s body rise up, sliding even more between her breasts. He didn’t mind; the beat of her heart was even louder now.

And the both of them just held one another, peacefully in the forest.

----

Much later, night came, and with it, he brought her to what would be her home.

“Sorry,” He muttered sheepishly, holding onto the tip of her tail. “Not as good as, eh. Whatever you’re used to.”

Terezi impishly gave him a gentle smack with her tail, laughing. Her stomach was smaller now, though still rounder than it had been, padded more with fat. The beast had been digested, meat and bone and every single inch of it melted away. Terezi’s breasts looked a bit larger, as did her hips, her thighs and butt, all more padded than usual. “Well, I don’t remember what that was actually like too well, at this level of existence, so me neither! Guess I’ll have to make do.”

Karkat’s house, looming high over them, was a humble building and not at all a luxurious home; almost as old as the temple and constructed in a very similar style (though simpler, and without the opulence of the temple), and the thing that stood out about it to the both of them, to any passerby, was that the doorway was alarmingly high, well over a few feet higher than Terezi herself.

It even cleared her long horns; she could walk right through it with ease. The whole home was built to her specifications, in fact; looking from the outside, it was reasonable to think that every room would be just as grand, for such a large troll as her to have without any issues at all.

This explained the furniture, Karkat realized. The chairs, the tables; it was all strictly divided into being the right size for him and being far too large for a normal troll… or at least ones, it dawned on him, if they weren’t Terezi-sized.

He opened the door, leading her in. “Well,” he said, his grouchy exterior faltering to show a genuine smile. He extended a hand. “Welcome home. Again.”

She took his hand warmly. “Glad to be back.”

[colorfullfalls]

Adore you

Summary: Sam and Emily finally get to their wedding day. The outside venue is beautiful and everything is in order except for the fact that Embry and you are fighting.

La Push, ah. What a wonderful- dare say mystical place to be. Waves roared violently against the beach, crashing roughly into the minuscule pieces of sand. Rain pelted among the ground, mixing with ocean, grass, sand, skin, and materials. Clothes stuck to russet toned flesh, sticking like a temporary tattoo for a child.

Panting hard, Embry Call's hands reached up his hands to pushed back Y/N's hair away from her neck, peeling the thick mop away to rest on the other side. Her eyes refused to meet his, wavering to look at the waves. She wished she was anywhere on Earth but in front of him. The way he looked at her hurt. His face held the upmost gaze of betrayal, beautiful brown orbs burning you from the inside out.

Behind her ear held the mark that would cause wretching heartache. A dainty black tattoo rested, rooting anger between the two. Tattoos were meant to be meant to have a deep meaning, and her's did. It was a sail boat. A symbol for the sea. Vast area of the unknown that humans did not get the privledge of ruining. Getting their hands and tainting the beauty it beheld. Embry did not mind her logic behind it, nor did he dislike her love for the sea. But the tattoo. He hated it. Disgust curled in his stomach, gripping his ribs like quicksand and pulling. He wanted to scream.

"You lied."

His words came off venomously. A snake's bite. Harsh syllables announciated with distrust. And pain. Mostly pain. You bit your lip to stop it from trembling. Crying would not solve the issue that was present because you betrayed him. Broke his heart a bit when you swore to guard it and protect the beautiful organ.

"I'm sorry, Embry. It was impulsive-"

He cut you off by shriveling back by your words. A cold laugh escaped his lips, "Damn right it was impulsive. Must've been if you couldn't have talked to me about it."

Fighting over a tattoo seemed dumb. But not in this situation. Embry was not mad that you got a tattoo. It was that the sailboat was your first tattoo. Years ago you promised Embry at the ripe age of 13 that you two would get your first one together. You a small sun and him a small moon. Both on your hips so that it would be a private thing. The ultimate proclamation of love. It was obvious as kids that you two were meant to be, even before you were his imprint. You were raised as best friends. Learned together. Aged together. Grew as individuals together. When the promise was made and 13 you had not yet been lovers, but it was a promise as two beings connected molecularly as best friends.

Even dating you two were still best friends. No one understood you like Embry, and no one ever would. His corny jokes made you laugh so hard that snorts would skip out of your nose. His hugs melted you to the bones. He made you feel complete. Best friends turned lovers, but best friends still for eternity.

"I didn't tell you to avoid this! I knew a fight would ensue." You cried out helplessly, feeling incredibly guilty but defensive at the same time.

"Why do it then? Or maybe consider taking to me about it, telling me at the least. You hid this for, well, it has to have been a while. Clearly healed." He deadpanned, pointing to it like it cut his foot off.

"It's been three weeks, Em."

His eyes lit up in realization, "You wouldn't have sex with me in the daylight. I figured it was just odd timing but no. Just blatantly lying to me to cover this up."

Tears welled in your eyes at how removed your gentle boyfriend was. You didn't recognize the person in front of you. Not that you didn't fully deserve it, but it still stung to see the love of your life so repulsed by your actions. Your female best friend convinced you to get one with her when her long time girlfriend broke her heart. She said she needed it to heal. And you. Against your better judgement, your ass was in a leather chair while a needle plunged relentlessly into your skin. You loved her and wanted to be there for her. Your mind was foggy when it happened due to a few drinks in you too.

Your best friend knew that you and Em talked about getting tattoos together, but she didn't know it was such a sacred vowel or else she never would have helped you break it. She got an eye that had a ring around it like a planet on her forearm. She was an artist and drew it up herself. It meant a lot to her. You loved her, but now you were paying for the actions.

"Y/bff/n made you get this?"

"What?! No! Of course not. I willingly did it, but a few drinks were in me. Which doesn't excuse it, but she got one too. Not like marching or anything..."

Embry stared.

You scrambled to get in as much as you could without interruption, "Wholeheartedly my heart is pounding with guilt that I broke our pact to get our first tattoo together. But to be fair you already have yours."

Embry shook his head in disbelief, "Are you fucking me right now? It wasn't my choice to get this. It's membership into the pack, Y/N. My culture."

You sighed, "I know that Embry, and I'm not trying to disrespect that. I love you and the pack. I love your culture. Undoubtedly it's your first tattoo though. We can get our second together."

You tried to grab his hand but he pulled it away, searing a burn mark right into your heart. Rain pelted down even harder. What had been a nice beach date went to hell when Embry went to move your hair back to kiss your neck when he saw it. Usually you could dodge his attempts to get close to there, but you were so blissed out by his intoxicating kisses that your mind wasn't all there. Ironically the weather went to shit as soon as fighting began.

"Don't touch me. I don't want to hurt you." What you failed to notice earlier was that his hands were shaking. Typically you could caress his bicep or face and he would melt into you. Today the same touches would have the opposite effect. No matter how angry he was, he was terrified to harm you. Any wound inflicted by him would drive him crazy. He loved you. Forever. Even when he was furious he was cautious to keep you safe. This only made you feel worse.

"I think I rather have you physically hurt me than you be angry with me." You mumbled, sniffling at how bad you just wanted to touch him.

He snarled. His veins bulged as he pointed at you, "Shut up! How dare you wish for something like that?"

"I don't wish for that. I'm just saying us fighting is unbearable!"

"You just said you rather me hurt you physically! You want scars like Emily? You want me to be in withering pain and agony as you bleed on the floor?!" He bellowed, shaking even worse.

You let out a sob at his words. This all escalated too quickly. His eyes softened momentarily at your cry but his anger got the best of him as he reminded himself why you were crying. He scrambled to throw his clothes off. His body contorted until his grey wolf stood tall in front of you.

It whimpered, but turned and booked it for the woods. Leaving you alone with his clothes, the rain, guilt, heartache, and the beach. You slid down to your knees, clutching his shirt to your chest.

Emily's wedding was tomorrow. She would look gorgeous in her wedding dress, smile beaming with every step down the aisle towards her wolf. Laughs, happy tears, and hugs would be shared between the wedding and reception. Of course dancing would be a necessity. You were unsure if you were going to be involved in their experience anymore. The pack loved you. You were one of them. But with Embry so upset and not knowing when you two would makeup, maybe it was for the best if you stayed home.

Half an hour later you were still on the beach crying. Jacob ran next to you, scooping you up in his strong arms. You snuggled into his warmth, wishing that it was Embry instead. After everything you still wanted him to be with you. Jacob took you home and helped you dry off before leading you into the shower to encourage you to take a hot shower. If you got sick Embry wouldn't be happy with his packmate.

He sat in the livingroom as you got dressed in the bathroom. You sheepishly walked out, embarrassed of the state he had found you in. His large frame took up the lounge chair. Two cups of hot tea sat on the coffee table.

"For me?" You asked, gesturing to the cup. He picked one up and handed it to you before taking his own. It felt good going down your throat. Warm and reassuring.

"Embry should not have phased like that. He feels like an ass for losing control like that." Jake began.

"He had enough control to strip first. I wasn't in danger." You assured.

Jake nodded, "I saw the whole fight go down. I was on patrol."

You laughed sadly. Poor Jacob had to relive Embry's anger and pain through the shared pack bond. He seemed to not be effected by it. You wondered how Embry was doing now. Texting him seemed like a bad idea. Especially with how things were left.

"It was an ugly fight. Worst one to date. His eyes held repulsion, Jake. Like he could barely look at me. This tattoo is giving me hell."

Jake sighed, motioning for you to come sit next to him. You squeezed into the chair with him, resting on his lap. Jake was like your brother that would help you through anything. His warm hand rubbed your back lightly to assure you that he was there. He would always be there.

"Life is weird and there's a lot that I don't know. What I do know is that if anyone is meant to be together, it's you two. Bonded and meant to be before he even shifted. Imprints are strong but you two are even more. This fight is a pebble that will chip away, I promise."

"Thanks but I don't know. He looked crushed. Phasing like that.. showing up to the wedding tomorrow might not be good. I'm not going."

Jake recoiled, "What? Of course you have to attend! Emily wants you there. Screw Embry. Tomorrow is about Sam and Emily and they certainly need you there. You're family."

"Don't say screw him." You mumbled. Feeling defensive was part of the bond, "I will think about it."

Jake ignored you scolding him because he understood the loyalty you felt for Embry. He felt the same exact way towards Reneesme. Rough times caused fighting like any other couple, but the bond required unconditional love and affection. Some portrayed it as toxic, but you didn't. Relationships typically didn't happen like this but you couldn't stay mad at Embry while growing up. It was an impossible defeat.

"You're a bridesmaid, not going would be terrible. Embry wants you there whether he admits it right now or not. I'll come pick you up, make sure you go."

You sighed, nodding. Lack of your presence would only cause a bigger rift between you two. On top of that, Emily would be crushed and that would make Sam frustrated towards you too. And that would lead to arguing between Sam and Embry because another wolf cannot be rude to an imprint. You helped plan this wedding and you deserved to be there. Jake was giving you big puppy dog eyes. Begging like Embry did. Begging that you could not deny.

"Fine."

Jake stood up, "I will see your pretty face tomorrow."

***

Hours later you laid in bed. Ceiling fan high blast cooling the room. Goosebumps danced across your skin, chilling you more than it should. Embry's warm embrace should've sheltered you from the breeze, making the ceiling fan actually necessary compared to his radiating heat. He wasn't with you tonight. You were alone. Restless. Where did he go if he didn't come home to you? Was he on Jared's couch? Sharing Quil's bed like he did when they were kids? Back home with his mom?

Phone screen said 2:41. Four hours after you laid down. Sleep was battling you, heart beating too fast with each memory of the argument. His hurt tone rang through your ears. Past text messages assured you that things would get better between you two. His corny jokes and memes made joy fill you.

This fight was dumb.

Your thumbs typed out all the words you wanted to say and you were about to send it you saw three dots meaning that he was typing too. He was reaching out too! The three dots dissapeared with a lack of text. Mood officially dampened. Who knew texting could be an emotional roller coaster.

Hours later your ass was seated in an uncomfortable chair while your hair was being done. Makeup had been applied an hour ago and you already wanted it off. Your upset hands liked to rest on your face and makeup didn't allow that. Emily and the other girls were chirpy. Gorgeous teeth on show from beaming. You did your best to match their mood. Key word, tried.

"Okay, you're hair is done. Go get in your dress!" Emily cooed, hands on either side of your shoulder. You offered a smile.

Putting on the dress took help from Leah. She was in a sour mood. Her first love getting married to her cousin and all. It was reasonable and truly expected. She may be a shape shifter, but human she still was. Her warm hands zipped up the back of the dress. Leah sensed your bad vibe like second nature.

"Go find Embry, makeout for a minute and get over with whatever the hell this is. It's ridiculous. You two are disgustingly in love. Fix it because it's dragging us all down." Her words were honest. Leah was always honest. Basically in her DNA.

You snorted, "We are not making out here. Im sorry that this is impacting you guys too, but this is not getting dealt with today. Emily and Sam are getting married."

"Won't be perfect if our favorite couple is on the outs."

"Favorite couple?" You questioned.

She nodded as if her sentence was as obvious as stating that the vast sky was blue. You rolled your eyes and moved the bottom of the dress so that it was in place. The light pink silk dress suited you. It suited all of the bridesmaids. Nice dress. Emily had great taste. Speaking of the devil, Emily walked around the corner. Her brown eyes widened at the sight of you and Leah. As if it wasnt her wedding day. As if she wasn't the most stunning looking woman for the day.

"Gorgeous! Oh my goodness, you both look amazing. Thank you for sharing this day with me," her eyes shifted to her Leah, "Especially you, Leah. I know I don't deserve your support considering what happened on your wedding day, but it means the world to me that you are here."

"Yep." Leah gave a tight smile. Emily's face fell at the lack of words from her cousin. You sighed and nudged Leah. She rolled her eyes but tried, "This isn't easy but I'm doing it. For you."

Emily closed the distance between them and pulled her cousin in for a hug. Tension resides and still would for a while, but the bond was slowly mending. Cousin like sisters trying to reconnect. It was hard when Leah was the one who lost everything and Emily gained what she had. Leah still did have one thing. Seth. And you. Seth was her brother and best friend. He always had her back. But you did too. Days after Embry introduced you to the pack you befriended her.

You felt intrusive of the moment so you walked out into the hall. A few doors down led to the outside. Some fresh air would be lovely. Sunshine fluttered through the glass door when you arrived. Glancing outside you halted.

Embry.

Black material covered his toned body, rose sitting perfectly on his left peck. His brown floppy hair was styled perfectly. Your fingers longed to run through the thick locks. You should've been the one to help him do his hair rather than peaking at him behind a door like a child that is supposed to be in time out. He was standing with Jake and Quil. His two friends were laughing as Embry leaned against the wall. Not laughing. Although his face didn't look miserable like yours did.

Jake's eye caught yours and you froze, terrified of what would happen next. Talking to Embry in front of them would most likely cause more issues. You knew Jake would side with you and Quil would side with Embry. Quil was forever Embry's best friend. Jake could see past that.

"There's Y/N." Jake spoke. Embry leaned off the wall and looked around for you. And there you were. Looking gorgeous as ever on the other side of the door. His face faltered into vulnerability as he realized how sad you looked. He did that. He made you sad. Before he could do anything you walked away. He grunted in annoyance, hitting the brick wall behind him.

"Fuck!"

Line up for walking down the isle was what you dreaded because obviously Embry was your match. Room silent as you grudgingly came to stand beside him. His eyes scanned over your beautiful face in sorrow. You busied yourself by picking at your nails. A tick that you did when you avoided confrontation.

Walking down the isle, an arm intertwined in his was mandatory. You did it. Sparks flew up your arm at touching him after so long. His warm skin blazed against yours pleasantly. During the wedding Embry kept stealing glances at you. You noticed and held his gaze when you could.

Sam and Emily's vowels were beautiful. Raw and true words about their unconditional love. Hell Emily has scars on her face from his anger and they got past that. Certainly you could get over Embry shifting yesterday. He did look incredibly handsome across from you.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife."

The crowd cheered as Sam and Emily kissed. He dipped her back like a princess and the cheers only got louder. Kim nudged your shoulder and you two shared a smile when they road off to the reception hall in their decorated car.

You contemplated how you would get to the reception yourself. You arrived with Jake but your body was buzzing with anticipation to touch your boyfriend. Fighting seemed pointless. Today was about love. And you loved eachother. This tattoo was permanent but so were you guys.

Embry was leaning against his truck when your knuckles tapped on the door. He jumped at the surprise but he calmed down when he saw it was you. Looking beautiful as ever. Your hair blew in the wind, giving him a nervous smile.

"You look gorgeous, baby." He lowly said, gesturing to you.

You blushed, "Thanks. Not so shabby yourself, mister."

"I love you." He blurted, "I love you so much. I'm sorry for yesterday. I'm sorry for yelling at you. I'm especially fucking sorry for phasing."

Your eyes watered as you walked straight into his blazing embrace. He scrambled to pull you as close as possible. Your hands clutched the fabric of his tux as his hands gently rubbed up and down your back. Your mind was flooding with euphoria at how close he was to you. Intoxicating. You hadn't been this far away from Embry for so long since you were fifteen.

"I'm sorry for my tattoo. It was shitty of me not to talk to you about it."

"I was just hurt that you got one without me. I wanted your first tattoo to be shared with me. It was selfish. You may be my imprint, but it's still your body." He confessed.

You pulled away so that you could look up at him, "Yes. My body is mine. But my soul is undoubtedly mixed with yours, belongs to you. Getting a tattoo doesn't make that any less."

An infectious smile broke out on his face. His hands cupped your face as he brought you closer, noses rubbing affectionately. His hand moved to your chain to raise it up, lips slotting quickly against yours. His tongue slipped into your mouth, eliciting a moan. You pulled back when you heard someone behind you two.

Jake stood there with a shit eating grin, "Was gonna ask if you needed a ride but you two clearly made up."

"Shut up dude." Embry groaned, pressing a few kisses to your cheek, "I missed her."

"Yeah, as if the whole pack didn't know that. See you guys at the reception." Jake retorted.

"See ya Jake!" You called out.

"Think we can manage a quickie before the reception?" Embry asked, hands dangerously roaming your body as he lifted you into the truck. You laughed as you were put on your back in the backseat. Your head lifted to see that no other cars were in the parking lot. You hummed as he shut the door and climbed on top of you. His hands pushed the dress off from your shoulders, head dipping down to appreciate what was his.

"This is a church parking lot." You teased as his tongue ran along your collar bone, hot saliva trailing behind. You grabbed his head and pulled it back up so that he could look at you.

"Yeah and? Everything about you is holy."

You snorted, pulling him down for another kiss. His warm hands slipped under your dress and grabbed your thighs, soft flesh melting against his. He pulled your hips up closer to him, grinding into you. You moaned at how his body moved against yours, two bodys and basically one soul. His lips moved to press hot kisses to your neck until they sucked on your tattoo.

"I think I actually like this spotch of ink." He murmured, running his tongue over it as he bunched up your dress to rest around your torso.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. It's hot."

Twenty minutes later you two walked into the reception hall hand in hand. Embry was especially lovey after the ten minutes spent in his truck. You both made sure that no evidence of your quickie was present. Emily and Sam were sharing their first dance in the middle of the dance floor. You led him to your table where Jake, Quil, Jared, Kim, Paul, and Rachel sat. Seth and Leah sat with Sue and Charlie a table over.

"Hot make up sex?" Paul teased as Embry pulled your chair out for you.

You shook your head at his blunt question. It wasn't like your sex life was a secret. Embry could not keep those thoughts to himself when he was shifted. Actually none of the boys could. It was how it went. Over time you got used to it. It wasn't Embry's fault.

"The best." Embry said intertwining your hands, "But not that that's any of your concern."

Paul raised his hands in surrender. The hothead knew better than to overstep and disrespect a fellow wolf and imprint. That would lead to a fight and Sam would murder them.

"Don't listen to Paul. We're glad that you two fixed things." Kim sweetly said. Her eyes were always so wide and kind.

"Yeah, bunch'a miserable kids in love. Embry was mopey all morning." Jared added.

Embry rolled his eyes, thumb rubbing affectionately across the top of your soft hand, "Beg to differ.."

"Oh wanna bet, Call?! You leaned against walls and didn't talk. Like uh," Paul snapped his fingers as he tried to think of the word, "like a mute."

"Love you man, but he's right." Quil spoke. Embry snapped his head to glare at his best friend. In return Quil sheepishly shrugged and sipped his water.

Embry then shifted towards you again, "Do you think any other wolf packs are around that I can join?"

You laughed at his deadpanned tone and lightly slapped his bicep, "You love them and you know it, bub."

"Yeah, bub." Rachel teased, a beautiful smile gracing her lips. Paul smirked with a profound proud feeling bubbling in his chest as he listened to his imprint.

Sam and Emily's dance ended and the dance floor was opened up. Embry took this chance to escape the ragging from his friends to share a slow dance with you instead. His hands rested on the curve of your back while yours intertwined around his neck. His face bend down to be close to yours.

"So I was thinking about our tattoos..." Embry started.

You cocked a curious eyebrow, "Oh? And what conclusion did you arrive at?"

"Let's get them tomorrow. Quil knows a guy who does some wicked cool ones and I just know he will make them exactly how we want. And why wait? Why did we not do it a year a or two ago?" He rambled, twirling you around and bringing you back into his arms.

"No clue why we waited. But.. I am so down for tomorrow. Sooner the better."

He hummed happily, "Great. Tomorrow it is."

Harry Style's Adore You came on and you grinned, "You may be an ass at times Embry Call, but I adore you."

"Thank you baby, but hey." You looked into his loving brown eyes and waited for him to go on, "I'd walk through fire for you."

Song lyrics or not, Embry Call would legit do anything for you, "Just let me adore you." You responded.

He leant down to peck your lips, "That's the only thing I'd ever do."

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

It’s This Jealousy 

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Mature (M) Notes: I got tagged in this post right here by @starkerscoop and couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get my hands on it. It got a little smutty at the end - hope you don’t mind! (& @send-me-your-hcs asked for a tag, too!)  Warnings: masturbation  Summary: 

It's this jealousy Oh, and I just can't believe In this jealousy This jealousy for you

At the ripe age of 49, Tony never imagined he’d be best friends with an 18-year-old. After all the mess with Steve and Bucky, things were a little strained between Rhodey and Tony. It wasn’t anything personal, there were just lots of things between them now, the leg braces he worked constantly to improve not even close to the only thing. With Peter, Tony could simply be. Their shared history wasn’t filled with anything other than a little tension and some misplaced control on Tony’s part.

The more Tony started to see Peter as the intelligent person he was and not the kid he always made him out to be, the more he wanted to have the younger man around. There was something in the way he tilted his head to ask questions and babbled incessantly that Tony just felt drawn to. Try as he might, there was no escaping the magnetic pull that drew him more towards Peter every single day.

It wasn’t subtle, either – the way they just seemed to fit. Peter moved into Avenger’s tower after graduating; the transition from part time to full time was and easy one, he fit right in with everyone – especially Tony. It didn’t take long for the two of them to break off and head for the lab together or be found in the living room pressed together from shoulder to hip talking quietly amongst themselves.

If someone was looking for Tony, they always pointed him in Peter’s direction. There weren’t many times throughout the day that they weren’t together. Tony appreciated Peter’s brain – he thought from all angles and wasn’t afraid to be wrong. There were many times when Peter taught Tony something new or made him go back and look at things from a totally different perspective.

Just the other day, Tony sat with his head in his hands, the nanotech and its housing unit he’d been trying to manipulate for the last hour sitting uselessly on the desk. A soft touch on his shoulder had him looking up, a smile overtaking his face for the first time all day. “Hey, kid,” Tony said in greeting, his hand coming up to hold Peter’s to his shoulder for a moment. “Training go well?”

He’d been trying to update his suit, so he stepped out of the group training for the day. The transition from the mechanism on his chest to the full suit was still too slow – he needed at least another second off of the total time. The headache didn’t seem worth it at that point, though – he should have worked the frustrations out. His head ached and he wanted to pull the freshly showered Peter Parker closer to him more than usual.

When Tony let go of Peter’s hand, he was surprised to find that Peter didn’t move his hand from its place on his shoulder. In fact, the fingers there dug in, the tips moving up and down the line of muscle. He tried not to move – the last thing he wanted to do was scare the kid away; the touch felt amazing. It was almost enough to make the collection of useless tech below him not matter. Almost.

“It did – the new adjustments you made to the aiming system did a world of good. I was moving so fast today,” Peter answered, his voice excited. Tony forced himself to settle on the slightest flash of a smile – Peter loved being a superhero, it was so insanely obvious. More often times than not, Tony found himself working on Peter’s suit just to see the astonishing smile on his face – the very one that was beaming back at him right now.

Tony picked up the small screwdriver he’d been using to mess with the back paneling, his face burning a little from the rush of affection that washed over him. It didn’t make sense, feeling like a schoolboy with a crush. But he couldn’t help it – Peter was so wholesome and filled with excitability and life; it was hard not to be drawn to it. “Bummed I missed it. I’ll pull the data from EDITH later – we can do a little data spec. I’ll see it in real time that way.”

He heard Peter suck in a breath, then saw the smile on his face grow wider. “That sounds like a good idea. I also brought some new ideas for the next evolution of web fluid. I’m so close to a breakthrough.” He went about taking his StarkPad and old-fashioned spiral notebook out of his backpack, excitement written all over his face.

Sitting down next to him (instead of across from him like not too long ago) Peter leaned into Tony’s space, looking over his shoulder. “I don’t think it’s this,” Peter remarked, pointing to the external structure. “The adjustments you made on the shooters was in the programming. I don’t think it’s a mass thing, either. I think it’s in the transition.” To Tony’s surprise, he opened his notebook and pointed to a couple different equations. “I ran these this morning when I saw what you were looking at yesterday.”

Peter’s cheeks were red, and his body radiated the kind of heat that shouldn’t have been natural. It made his entire right side warm, the bare skin of his forearms prickling from the contact. Letting his eyes roam over the work, Tony leaned into him – an arm wrapping around his shoulder. “This is good stuff, Pete. I think I know exactly where to go now.” He kept his arm there for a few minutes, the two of them still lightly discussing the numbers and what brought Peter down that path.

A week later, his suit was ruining faster than ever before. Every time he punched the mechanism and the nanotech did its thing, Tony felt a warm drip of pride in the middle of his core – the little bits of attraction he’d been trying to hide getting harder and harder to ignore.

Especially because Peter seemed to think that their friendship came with an all access pass – to him, to the never-ending stream of thoughts that ran through his head, hell, to Tony’s things. Many times, he’d come back from a meeting and find Peter passed out on the edge of his bed, the huge TV dialed in to some anime show he couldn’t force himself to get into. He never did anything about it – how could he? Most of his daydreams revolved around that very instance.

After a few weeks, Peter started to talk – like, really talk. He started with the story of how his parents died and the struggle it was to get used to living with May and Ben. Peter talked about the things he missed because he didn’t have parents in his life, no matter how much his aunt and uncle tried. 

The more time they spent together, the more Peter let himself be free with his words. Tony knew what type of shampoo he preferred, how many times May walked in on him naked or unclothed, and all the different fanfictions currently all the rage.

They were close – plain and simple. There were a few times when their closeness seemed like it might be something else, but neither man acted upon it. Tony didn’t want to apply undue pressure to a situation that only few people his age were interested in. He didn’t know much about Peter’s thoughts on that matter – it was the one thing they didn’t talk about.

MJ quickly became a topic that strictly stayed in the friend pile, Peter’s interest in her weaning significantly after some sort of mishap during their trip to Europe.

Tony spent most of his time holed up in his bedroom the entire week Peter was gone, his mind and body exhausted from all the work he managed to get done in the comfort of his king-sized bed. He didn’t talk to anyone, Tony keenly aware that his behavior was not appropriate for an almost 50-year-old person.

He could never admit that Peter coming back was the best day of the entire summer – the two of them quickly catching up on his use of EDITH and the different aspects of the new suit he wanted to start working on for his patrols back in the city. It seemed like nothing changed between them – but relationships or anything related weren’t brought up again.

The idea that he wasn’t approachable in that area made his jaw clench. His history didn’t lend itself to a positive image, he could admit that. There were a few years when things were so out of whack that only going from one thing to the next could satisfy him. After the cave, Tony figured the person closest to him when he got back was the answer. The try he applied to his relationship with Pepper wasn’t lacking, they were simply better off as friends.

It smarted a little – how perceptive Peter was. If the reason he didn’t approach Tony was because of his past, he couldn’t begrudge Peter one single bit. The kid was smart and understood that bad habits weren’t to be repeated. Too bad Tony’s history wasn’t anything like the way he currently felt and thought.

----

Walking into the kitchen in the common area of the tower, Tony quirked a brow at the congregation of Steve Rogers, Wanda, Bucky, and Peter – they all looked up at him when they realized he was in the room. Peter’s cheeks colored, his eyes drifting down to the hands knit together in front of him. The rest of the adults at the table were looking at him with looks of curiosity and interest – Tony almost certain he could feel Wanda picking around in his brain, or something.

“Tony!” Peter exclaimed, one of his hands moving quickly to cover his mouth. It would have been comical if Tony didn’t know the kid so well. Peter didn’t do so well with lying or bending the truth – his face and expressive eyes gave him away. Staring at him now, Tony wondered what kind of snake pit he walked into. He gave the group a swift nod but didn’t stop to join them – he didn’t need spider senses to understand the prickly sensation on the back of his neck.

He was quick to get the hell out of dodge, a water bottle in his hand – the thought of making a sandwich quickly abandoned when all of the eyes in the room followed his every movement. Settling onto the couch, Tony put a random Netflix show on and turned up the volume – his ears ringing from the overdrive of his thoughts. Whatever they were talking about, he suspected it might have something to do with him.

It didn’t stay a mystery long. Tony saw Steve approaching him from the laid-back position he let himself curl into on the couch. Queer Eye sucked him in, so he let his brain check out, his body relaxing with the rest of him. The second he saw Steve, though, he sat up – the prickly sensation returning to his skin. He felt like he might throw up all over his fancy shoes, the thought that maybe throwing up would be a little less painful than whatever Steve might have to say crossed his mind.

“So – “ Steve started, his arms folding across his chest as he settled into the empty part of the couch. “I had a surprising conversation with Peter. Or well, he asked some surprising questions. Are things okay between the two of you?” Steve’s voice sounded a little patronizing – the big brother act something Tony could never get behind. At least he was here talking to him, though – it didn’t seem right to begrudge him that.

“What are you talking about, Rogers? I don’t know what kind of questions he asked you to know what you’re referring to. The last time I saw Peter, he was smiling over a beaker of web fluid.” Tony pressed himself against the side of the couch, the softness of it aggravating. In that moment, he wanted weight – something to ground him to this weird conversation.

In another life, Tony would’ve appreciated the tilt of Steve’s head, the curious look in his eye not the worst thing to look at. He knew what it was like to take on Bucky, though – he’d never win that fight alone. Shaking his head of the thought, he focused on Steve and the words it seemed he was trying to find. “He was asking about pleasuring himself. We all assumed you two were good in that department.”

Tony sucked in a breath, his eye bulging. “Pleasuring himself – what? Steve, we’re not together.” The words felt weird coming out of his mouth, like they were trying their hardest to cling to the surface of his tongue and not be spoken; speaking them made it true. Running a hand through his hair, Tony wished that the couch would open up and swallow him whole.

The emotions that swarmed around him made it hard to pay attention to anything else Steve said – his head nodding, but his brain not really processing anything. All he could think about was the fact that Peter went to Steve Rogers of all people to ask about the most personal of matters. Tony was good enough for everything except carnality – what a joy that was to learn. Without much thought, Tony got up, not really giving two shits about the still talking Steve gaping at him from the couch.

He took refuge in the lab – the sight and smell of familiar things enough to calm him down slightly. “FRIDAY, play some classic rock, will you? KISS, maybe.” Tony said absentmindedly – music would drown out the bottomless pit of things that only made him angry. His understanding of how irrational it was to be as angry and jealous and upset about something that wasn’t even his business made it all a little worse.

A whoosh of the door opening a little while later brought Tony out of the trance that he blissfully slipped into. Not thinking was a lot better than the war of emotions that threatened to consume him. His eyes caught Peter’s, his exterior softening for a second – his presence was soothing, even now.

Remembering Steve’s mistake and the weird feeling of betrayal, Tony lowered his eyes quickly – it would take ignoring the soft look in Peter’s eye to keep firm to his resolve to be mad.

“Tony – I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Peter approached him like one would a wounded animal, slowly and with caution. He wondered if Steve was supposed to tell Tony about Peter’s questions – if he was betraying the kid’s trust to set the record straight. His blood felt like it was boiling – the direction of his thoughts not very productive in deactivating the bomb that was ticking down, each second a little closer to explosion.

He felt himself huff out a sarcastic laugh, his emotions getting the best of him. “Well, you found me. Now what?” Tony’s voice was harder than he ever wanted to use towards Peter – the pitch of it sending a shiver of shame down his spine. The subtle change in the room wasn’t missed – so he let the feeling take hold; what did he really have to lose?

“What? Tony, I – “ Peter spluttered, words not coming despite his demand for them.

“You what? You’ve told me your entire life story, every little intimate detail, but you seek out Steve Rogers for sex advice? I don’t get you, Peter – a little piece of me is licking a wound. It kind of feels a little like betrayal.” Tony inwardly cringed, his own desperation so very evident. The dam inside of him was broken – there seemed to really be no going back. “I’m good enough for everything but this?”

Peter’s face fell, his usually bright eyes clouded over by confusion that was swiftly mixing with hurt – it pained Tony on a molecular level, seeing that gorgeous face anything but radiant with happiness. “Steve’s such an asshole,” Peter muttered, his eyes dropping to the floor. Tony wanted to pick Peter’s head up and rub his cheeks until the red hue and shine came back to his face.

“I didn’t come to you because you’re the one driving me crazy – I’ve been so on edge around you and I can’t – there hasn’t been any relief. I thought I’d ask people who are just as souped up as me about it. I thought maybe there was something wrong with me,” Peter admitted quietly, his eyes peeking up to gauge the look on Tony’s face.

Shaking his head, Tony cursed himself for not being the stonewalled person he made himself out to be. The cracks in his armor were ones he couldn’t buff out – no matter how hard he tried. Words he longed to hear sat on his skin, his body trying to decide how to process the stimulus of actually getting the thing he wanted the most.

The few steps it took to close the gap between them felt like miles – Tony couldn’t get his hands on Peter fast enough. “I’m driving you crazy?” Tony mumbled; his hands grabbing Peter’s hips. “You walk into the room and I’m completely lost. I’ve thought about bending you over every one of these tables – kissing you breathless against the damn fridge you lean into and search for food that isn’t there.”

Peter wrapped his arms around Tony’s neck, his enhanced strength pulling Tony against him before he knew what happened. There wasn’t any space left between them, their noses brushing with every hitch of breath either man took. “You’re my best friend, Pete – I haven’t wanted to fuck that up.”

Their lips touched then, both of them leaning in to close the distance. Tony’s fingers clenched, the hold on Peter’s hips tightening. The t-shirt Peter was wearing rode up a little, a bare stripe of skin available for his fingers to touch. At first brush, the body against him squirmed, Peter pulling away to let out a soft gasp. “Fuck!” Peter grunted out, his eyes clenching closed.

Tony watched Peter’s reaction, a rush of heat collecting in the boiling pit of his stomach – his cock throbbed against the zipper of his jeans. He’d thought a lot about what Peter would look like in the throes of passion – the sight was exponentially better than anything his brain could dream up. The flush on his cheeks made them seem fuller, the globe of them looking tasty enough to pull into his mouth. Glazed eyes and a hanging jaw had Tony moving – his lips desperate to be pressed against Peter’s once again.

“We should move this elsewhere,” Peter babbled against Tony’s lips, his fingers fisted in the front of Tony’s shirt. “I want to feel your skin, Tony.” His hands were uselessly tugging at the buttons, the fabric of it starting to tear with the force of his grip.

Groaning, Tony forced himself to take a couple of steps out of Peter’s grip completely. It would take too many brain cells to get to the elevator and up to the floor his rooms were on if he were still anyway attached to Peter – his hands achy to touch, to finally feel the thrum of Peter’s heartbeat pulsing in his veins.

“After you,” Tony mumbled, his chest heaving as he watched Peter walk in front of him, the articulation of his step hitched a bit from the stiffness in his pants. His steps were quick and the view from behind was nice – a good enough distraction to get him from the lab, into the elevator, and then down the hall where he grabbed Peter’s hand and pulled him along.

The slamming of the door in his bedroom was more satisfying than he figured something small like that had the right to be. Peter’s breath hitched when Tony’s eager fingers slipped under the edge of the soft t-shirt covering the long limbs he’d been thinking about for months. It got caught on Peter’s ear as Tony pulled it off, both of them laughing. “I can’t believe this is happening,” Peter admitted, pupils blown wide.

Tony grinned, the tips of his fingers trailing down the hard planes of Peter’s sides – “It’s real – I’m real,” Tony answered, his hand grabbing Peter’s and placing it over the hardness trying to escape the confines of his jeans. “That’s for you.” He let a chuckle slip, the reaction of Peter’s hand tightening on his crotch surprising him.

They made quick work of clothes after that, Tony kissing him breathless between the unbuttoning of his shirt buttons and the fumbling it took to get shoes, pants, and briefs off. Peter ended up in the middle of the bed, Tony settled between his spread legs. “Touch yourself. Steve may be enhanced, but I know what it’s like to feel good,” Tony’s voice dropped, his eyes wandering over every single inch of Peter stretched out below him.

Peter didn’t wait to do what he said, long fingers wrapping around a thick erection before Tony even finished speaking. His grip was tight, Tony taking stock in the way he slid his hand from the head to the base, and the flick of his wrist on the upstroke. Dark eyelashes flickered, the edges of them just barely moving along the edge of Peter’s cheek.  

Without saying anything, Tony let the fingers of his right-hand trail along the inside of Peter’s thighs. He kept the touch light, the skin pebbling with his caress. “The best part of what you’re doing is the build-up. It starts with the littlest itch. You grasp on and try to itch, but the pressure you’re using isn’t enough,” Tony flattened his hand, his palm running down the front of Peter’s balls. They were slightly hairy and drawn up – the sheen of sweat on Peter’s skin telling him just how much Peter seemed to be enjoying the tease.

Gripping both of Peter’s balls in his hand, Tony gave a tug and rolled them between his fingers. “So, you grip a little harder and move your hand a little faster – it’s the sweet combination of pleasure-pain, the relief of almost curing the itch and the slightest dig of your fingernails into your skin.” Tony let his left-hand wrap around his own length, the tip completely drenched in precum.

Tony slipped his hand from Peter’s balls down his perineum and in between his cheeks, his finger tracing around the tight rim of his asshole. Peter’s hand was moving quickly over himself, his eyes wide as he tried to stave off an orgasm and catch every move of Tony’s hand that he could. “You should cum, Pete. Finally scratch that itch.” Tony’s finger pressed ever so slightly against the rim as he spoke, the tip barely slipping inside. “Cum, Pete.”

The clench of Peter’s muscles was almost enough to pull Tony over the edge with him – Peter’s hand was flying over his length, the start of his orgasm splashing against the bottom of his stomach, then pooling between the ab and pec complex up towards his chest. Tony’s name dripped from his lips, Peter’s free hand fumbling around until he grasped bare skin.

It took a couple more strokes for Tony to follow him over the edge, the sight of Peter’s cum coating his own stomach and the blissed-out expression on his face more than enough to fuel Tony’s fire for a long time to come.

Without much thought, Tony collapsed on Peter’s chest, their legs tangling. He didn’t care about the cum that smeared against his skin when he moved in to press a kiss to already swollen lips – Tony hoped to spend many days covered in Peter’s cum and sweat. Now that the dam was broken, there’d be no holding back the feelings he tried his best to keep under control.

Peter’s arms wrapped tightly around him, Tony feeling the boy’s sigh from his position against his chest. His skin was warm and slick – the softness of it a contrast that made Tony want to hunker down and be surrounded by it forever.