#figured we should a tag for overseer as well

[troupe-of-eldritch-horrors]

Apologies for not posting anything yesterday, the writers needed a break due to personal issues.

They'll be working on getting some more asks answered now, I hope you all enjoy~

-The Overseer

[flowersforbucky]

devil's in the backseat

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.7k

summary/prompt: a night at coney island with your friends turns out much differently than expected.

or getting fucked in front of a mirror

author's note: this is my first halloween fic!! this was so much fun to write. if you've read haunting adeline, then you know exactly what inspired the mirror maze scene! also disclaimer i have never been to coney island so if any of this is inaccurate then just pretend ok it's fiction :))

warnings/tags: smut, 18+ only content, sex in a public setting, mirror sex, oral (female receiving), unprotected p in v, friends to lovers, romanogers makes an appearance! kind of grumpy!reader, protective bucky, random men being creepy, language, reader is afab, she/her pronouns, reader pov, no use of y/n, porn with a little plot, fluff

my masterlist

“I can't fucking believe I let you talk me into wearing this.”

You tug the tight, cherry red colored velvet fabric of the babydoll dress in place for the dozenth time since arriving at Coney Island.

“What? You look hot. Plus, our costumes go great together.”

Natasha's costume mirrors your own - except hers is a pearlescent white and instead of a pitchfork and horns, she dons angel wings and a halo.

“I don't feel hot. I feel cold. It's fifty degrees and the sun hasn't even set yet.” If it wasn't for the black thigh high boots that cover the majority of your legs, you'd be shivering in the chilly late October weather.

“It's not my fault that you put off getting a costume until the last minute and had to pick through what little was left at Spirit Halloween,” she mumbles, passing you one of the cups of apple cider that the cashier hands to her. You gladly accept, sucking down the hot liquid in hopes that it will warm you from the inside.

Her phone dings as the two of you walk towards the rides. “It's Steve,” she informs you as she reads the text message. “They just got here,” she looks back up at you with a smirk on her face and a mischievous gleam in her eye. “Bucky decided to come with them.”

You roll your eyes, suddenly hating your borderline provocative costume even more.

“I thought he was leaving for a job in Denver this evening?”

It's not that you didn't want to see Bucky. It's that you didn't want to see Bucky dressed like this. As if you don't already get flustered around him when you're dressed in normal, everyday clothing. The hem of your dress barely conceals the curve of your ass and your tits are practically spilling over the low neckline.

“Guess it's been postponed,” she shrugs, nudging you with her shoulder.

The two of you turn to look in the opposite direction when a familiar voice calls your names. You see Steve, Sam, and Bucky walking towards you. Steve is dressed as a pirate, eyepatch and all. Sam wears a cowboy costume with an oversized hat, concealing the upper half of his face entirely.

And Bucky? Bucky wears jeans and a navy blue Henley.

Yeah, you're regretting any of your life choices that lead up to this moment.

“Well, well, well,” Sam drawls as he tips his hat back enough to take in yours and Natasha’s outfits. “Look what we have here. An angel and a devil. Have you two already entered the costume contest for best duo or should I go add your names?”

“You wouldn't dare,” you scold him. Natasha just laughs, falling into Steve’s embrace as he plants a kiss to her forehead.

“We should, you know,” Natasha agrees. “I think we'd have a pretty good shot at winning.”

“Yeah, right,” you retort, looking around at some of the more elaborate, creative costumes that many of the strangers around you are sporting. You notice a man and woman dressed as Beetlejuice and Lydia Deetz and know that you and Nat wouldn't stand a chance in a costume contest. “And what about you?” You acknowledge Bucky, your eyes skimming up and down his civilian clothes. “Didn't have time to pull together a costume?”

He smirks, his eyes trailing up your figure for a heated moment before he responds. “I'll have you know that I am in costume, actually.”

Steve and Sam both snort in laughter.

“Oh yeah? And what are you supposed to be, exactly?”

He tugs up the sleeve of his shirt, showing off the shiny vibranium that is his left arm.

“I'm the Winter Soldier,” he says with a smug grin. “Obviously.”

“How creative,” you praise sarcastically.

“Cut me some slack,” he feigns insult. “I was supposed to be halfway to Colorado right now. I didn't have time to pull together anything too cute.” His eyes flicker to your dress and boots at the word cute. If anyone else notices, they say nothing.

“What are we doing just standing around here?” Natasha exclaims, tugging Steve in the direction of the rides and games. “I want to ride every ride and eat funnel cake.”

They race ahead of the rest of you, with Sam close behind, leaving you and Bucky to fall into step beside each other.

“So, why did your mission get postponed?” You ask casually, trying to fight down the nerves that threaten to bubble over every time you're alone with him.

“Beats me,” he shrugs. “Fury didn't give much of an explanation. I got the text as I was loading my bags into the car to head out.”

“That's annoying,” you mumble, swallowing the remnants of your hot apple cider. “I'm sorry,” you tell him with a glance in his direction. “I'm sure it was for a good reason.”

He shrugs. “I'm here, so I can't be too mad about it.”

Before you can overthink exactly what he means by that, you're both brought to a halt when a jolly looking man in a Ghostbusters costume steps directly in front of you, blocking your path.

“This little devil looks like she needs a giant sloth!” He exclaims, gesturing towards the prizes hanging above the balloon darts station next to you.

“Oh, no,” you start. “That’s okay–”

“Come on!” The red-faced vendor insists, looking at Bucky. “Don't you want to win your girl a giant sloth? Perhaps a giant giraffe? If she was mine, I'd be winning her any prize she wants. I'll give you five throws for ten doll–”

“Fine, fine,” Bucky relents, digging into his back pocket for his wallet. You notice a faint hint of pink blooms along the apples of his cheeks, but he doesn't correct the man when he calls you his girl. “You've worn me down,” he sighs as he shoves a crumpled ten dollar bill into the man's hand.

The man accepts the money with a satisfied, toothy grin and hands Bucky five darts.

“If you get three out of the five throws, you can choose a prize from here,” the man gestures towards a section of smaller prizes. “And if you get all five throws, you can choose–”

The man is cut off by the sharp popping sound of a balloon, and then a second, and a third, until all five darts have been impaled on the board in a consecutive line in a matter of seconds.

“She'll take the bunny,” Bucky tells him before he can erase the stunned look off of his face. He points to a large, flop-eared purple bunny hanging from the upper row of prizes.

Unlike the vendor, you aren't shocked by his perfect aim at all. Anyone who knows Bucky would have known that he wouldn't miss a single shot. You are shocked, however, that he chose the bunny without even asking which prize you want.

The man in the Ghostbusters costume grabs the bunny and hands it to you, surprise still etched on his face. He mumbles a quick goodnight before he's moving onto the next people approaching the stand.

“How did you know I'd want the bunny?” You ask Bucky, trying to juggle the stuffed animal, your empty cup of cider, and your pitchfork all in your arms.

“You like bunnies, right? It was an educated guess.” He shrugs, moving through a thick crowd of people away from the game stations. “Here, let me carry it for you,” he offers when he notices the large stuffed animal is obstructing your vision. You hand it over to him and he tucks it underneath his metal arm.

“Thank you,” you tell him, your cheeks heating at the realization that he'd remembered such an inconsequential piece of information about you. You do like bunnies. The cold night air suddenly feels a lot more balmy.

“I'm - uh - I'm going to find a trash can real quick,” you say as you wiggle the empty cup in your hand. Truthfully, you just need a moment to collect yourself.

You begin walking in the opposite direction before he can reply, your eyes scanning the throng of people for a garbage can.

So what if he knows that you like bunnies? It's a pretty trivial fact that probably means nothing. You know that Natasha’s favorite animal is flamingos - because she's your friend. It's normal for friends to know things that their friends like.

Right? Right.

“I like that outfit a whole lot, baby. But I think you'd look even cuter in just the boots and those horns.”

You're so lost in your internal monologue that you don't even notice two men closing in on you as you toss the empty cup into a trash can. Unlike most of the people here tonight, neither of them are in costumes. They stand so close to you that you can smell booze on their breath.

“Oh, fuck off,” you groan as you attempt to walk away, but they've effectively blocked you between their bodies and the large garbage can behind you. Wicked grins grow on their faces as you realize that you can't get by them.

“Look, I don’t have the patience for this tonight. Get out of my fucking way.”

“Or what?” One of them taunts. “You'll use that little pitchfork on us? Jokes on you, because we're into that.”

“What if I used it on you?” A familiar voice comes from behind them. “Would you still like that?”

Before they can even turn around to identify the voice, Bucky is pulling him back by the hood of his sweatshirt and throwing him on the ground with little to no effort. The other one attempts to stumble away as Bucky turns his attention to him.

He still has your bunny clutched in his flesh hand - despite the seriousness of the situation, you have to bite your lip to keep from smirking at the sight. You don't know of anyone who could be quite as intimidating while holding a stuffed purple bunny.

“What about you?” Bucky asks, towering over the guy by half a foot. “You got anything you wanna say?”

“I - no - we didn't know she was with someone,” he half slurs, half stutters out. His gaze flickers to Bucky's vibranium hand. The man on the ground manages to stand back up, following after his friend.

“Now you know,” Bucky calls after them as they quickly hobble away.

“I had that handled, you know,” you tell Bucky with a nod towards your pitchfork. “But thank you, anyway. Really.”

He places a gentle but firm grasp on the top of your arms and begins to tug you in the opposite direction, guiding you through the small crowd that had stopped to witness the altercation.

“I have no doubt about that,” he sighs, releasing his grip on you when the two of you are a reasonable distance away. “But I also don't doubt that you handling it would have drawn even more attention.”

He's right. If he hadn't stepped in, your method of handling it would have been even more dramatic.

“They would have deserved it,” you mumble. “I knew I shouldn't have worn this stupid costume.”

“They definitely would have deserved it,” he agrees. “And your costume isn't stupid. You should be able to wear any costume you like without getting harassed by drunk assholes.”

The two of you approach the ferris wheel as it comes to a slow stop, a couple getting out of one of the cars. You and Bucky flash your wristbands to the operator, who offers to hold your pitchfork for you while you’re on the ride.

“Besides,” he continues as you sit down next to each other in the car, the operator locking the gate in place. “I happen to like your costume. A lot.” He turns his head to you, his gaze trailing from the tops of your thigh high boots and up to the felt horns that adorn your head.

There's a shift in energy as the ferris wheel suddenly comes to life, sending you sliding across the limited space of the metal bench seat and right up against him.

“Oh, yeah?” You tease with your face a few inches from his. Close enough to see your reflection in his irises. “Is that why two different people have implied that I'm yours tonight and you haven't corrected either of them?”

“Your costume had nothing to do with that. I wouldn't have corrected them even if you were dressed as a giant banana,” he says, his tone and face both serious. “Does it bother you that I didn't correct them?”

“No,” you answer automatically - eagerly. You should feel embarrassed, but with the way he's looking at you, and how good it feels to be pressed so snug against him, you can't find it within yourself to care. “I didn't correct them either,” you point out.

The ferris wheel comes to a stop to let new people get on when your cart reaches the peak.

“And why is that?” he asks lowly. If you weren't sitting so close to him, you wouldn't have been able to hear him over the obnoxiously loud carnival music that pours from speakers in between the ferris wheel's carts.

He wraps his metal arm around your shoulders, pulling you further into him.

“Because I liked the sound of it,” you answer honestly. Your voice quivers - from nerves, or from a gust of wind that sways the pod still perching at the top of the wheel.

“Is that right?” he murmurs. He places his flesh hand on the exposed skin of your thigh - just above the top of your boot and just under the hem of your dress. His fingertips rest near the crack between your thighs. Instinctively, you spread your legs apart - not much, but enough for him to smirk at your body's automatic response to his touch.

“You like the sound of being my girl?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I do. Is that okay with you?”

He chuckles, his fingers inching further up your thigh. You spread your legs open further, giving him the go ahead to go as high as he wants. He stops when he reaches the apex of your thighs, just an inch away from the cloth of your panties. He applies pressure with his fingertips, his short nails digging into the sensitive flesh and making you clench your legs around his hand.

“That depends,” he contemplates. “Are you my girl?”

You open your mouth to answer when the sensation of his index finger grazing the fabric that covers your cunt makes you forget how to speak. You sit there with your mouth agape as he hooks a finger into the cotton panties.

He eases a finger through your folds, lubricating it in your slick before adding a second finger and massaging the pads of them over your sensitive clit.

“Feels like you're my girl.”

You become vaguely aware of the fact that the ride is now in motion once more, heading back down to the ground, when Bucky places the stuffed bunny on your lap in an effort to conceal what is happening in the cart that you and him share.

He alternates between slow, languid circles and quick strokes against your clit as the ferris wheel makes its way down and then back up again. You can feel yourself soaking your underwear as the world dizzies around you. You hide your face in Bucky's neck to conceal the pleasure written across your face.

You're seconds away from coming against his fingers, the pressure in your belly building to a climax, when he pulls away and tugs your dress into place. Your gaze snaps up to his, shooting daggers, as the ride comes to a slow stop. He looks back at you with an amused smirk as the operator approaches the cart to unlock the gate.

“Sorry about that, sweetheart,” he tells you in a strained voice as he snatches the bunny back from you. “After you,” he motions with his head as the operator holds the gate open for you.

Stunned and speechless at what just happened, you stumble out of the cart and down the stairs to the ride's exit with Bucky behind you - both of you completely forgetting about your pitchfork. You can't help but snort a laugh at the position of the large stuffed animal - directly over Bucky’s crotch.

“Real discreet,” you tell him, glancing down at the bunny and then back up to the semi-pained expression on his face.

“I have to admit, right now this thing is worth every penny that I spent on it,” he sighs, and then removes one hand from the bunny to place it on your lower back. “Follow me,” he instructs with a smirk.

He guides you through the crowd and you follow him without question, just trying to ignore the wet ache between your legs.

You shoot him a quizzical look when you arrive at the house of mirrors. You haven't been in a mirror maze since you'd gotten lost in one at ten years old.

There's an attendant sitting in a chair outside of the entrance who unenthusiastically greets the two of you. Bucky reaches into his pocket, digging out his wallet for the second time that evening. He pulls out a hundred dollar bill and flashes it at the elderly man smoking a Pall Mall.

“Take this and don't let anyone else in until we come out,” Bucky tells him before dragging you into the attraction. You and the gray haired man both go wide eyed.

“What was that?” you cackle as the door slams to a close behind you. Bucky doesn't answer, just grabs one of your hands in his and begins guiding you through the maze of mirrors as if he's been here a hundred times.

The entire place is lit by bright, neon red lights that only aid in further confusing your sense of direction. Bucky doesn’t seem phased in the slightest, finally coming to a stop after a few minutes of maneuvering through the endless mirrors.

“You never answered me, you know,” he says as he drops your bunny to the floor. “When I asked if you're my girl.” He smirks at you, stepping closer to you and backing you against the mirror behind you.

“You just paid that man a hundred dollars to get me alone,” you jab as you pull him to you by the front of his Henley. “I think it's safe to say that I am.”

He smiles as you pull him down to you, crushing your lips to his. His hands trail down your back until they land where your thighs meet the curve of your ass cheeks. You release months worth of tension into the kiss, sweeping your tongue along the swell of his bottom lip before slipping it into his mouth the second that he parts his lips for you. He groans into the kiss, kneading the globes of your ass with his fingers. You can feel a prominent bulge through his jeans against your stomach.

Adrenaline begins to kick in when he pulls away, looking down at you with lust blown pupils. He sinks to the floor below you, kneeling in front of your cunt as he raises your dress around your waist and tugs your panties down your legs and over your boots. He slips them into his back pocket before hiking one of your legs across his shoulder.

You can already feel your juices leaking down your inner thighs before his mouth makes contact with you. When he does, you lean your head back against the glass behind you in pleasure.

He sucks your clit between his kiss-swollen lips with an obscene pop before running his tongue down your folds. He plunges his tongue inside you and you grind yourself against his face, chasing the release that you were seconds away from on the ferris wheel.

He moans at the taste of you and the vibration has your walls clenching around his tongue. You ride out your orgasm on his face, the neon red lights blurring and spinning around you.

Despite the fact that your legs feel like jelly, you pull him up to you as soon as you're able to form a coherent thought. You clumsily paw at the button of his pants and his zipper, and he shoves both his jeans and boxers down over his ass, just far enough to free his cock.

He places both of his hands just under your armpits and lifts you as you instinctively lock your legs around his hips.

The head of his cock nudges your wet folds, your juices coating his length before he nudges it inside you.

You feel full before he's even halfway in you. Your walls constrict around him and he digs his teeth into his bottom lip as he adjusts to the sensation of you.

“Fuck, that's tight. You're perfect,” he grunts as he sheaths the rest of his length into you. You let out a sound somewhere between a whimper and a gasp.

He has total control as he cradles you between his body and the cold, hard mirror behind you. He sets a harsh pace, his head ramming against your cervix at the sweetest angle from his position beneath you.

He manages to support you with the strength of only his vibranium arm as he brings his flesh hand between your bodies, once again massaging your clit in rapid circles as he fucks up into you.

You cum around his length in a shockingly short amount of time, digging your teeth into the flesh of his neck as he follows after you, filling you up with hot ropes of his cum.

You stay in the same position after you've both reached your climax, panting against one another in the claustrophobic feeling space.

“We should probably go find our friends,” you say breathlessly with a kiss to the side of his face. “Sam's probably getting sick of being a third wheel.”

He pulls out of you, his cum running down your thighs and ass cheeks. He gently lowers you back down to the ground as he begins to tuck himself back into his pants.

He laughs, cupping your face in his hands as he pulls your lips to his once again.

“If he hates being a third wheel, just imagine how much he's going to hate being a fifth wheel.”

[kquil]

JAMES POTTER | 01:15 ⏤THE PRETTY MECHANIC

SUM. : james borrows sirius' new motorbike and ends up breaking down on the road, thankfully he remembers a mechanic shop nearby and heads straight for it - he doesn't expect to meet the prettiest mechanic there though

TAGS. : fluff ; modern au ; muggle au ; mechanic reader ; biker james ; reader is oblivious ; reader is just doing her job ; james being the love sick puppy that he is ; james is a loveable dork ; james breaks a promise ; sirius doesn't have to know ; legal vandalism? ; vandalisim is never legal kids ; don't try this at home ; james and sirius are BFFs!

LENGTH : 1.1k

NOT PROOFREAD OR EDITED

James was FUCKED!... 

He had borrowed Sirius’ new motorbike but now it was shutting down on him and he didn’t know what to do! This has never happened with his best friend’s previous bike before. That bike was easy to handle, not at the beginning, but over time, James had grown familiar with it and now that he was on a new bike, he didn’t even know where to begin with trying to remedy the issue – whatever the issue was! 

“Padfoot’s gonna kill me if his sweet new ride breaks down,” James’ voice shakes as he panics silently to himself, “and it’s all because of me…”

James remembers spending an entire week trying to convince Sirius to allow him the privilege of riding his new motorbike. A matte, all black Triumph Daytona 660. It was a beautiful ride, and one that Sirius was proud to own and made him promise to handle with the greatest care. Sirius’ love for the motor vehicle was contagious and made James just as much of a fanatic over bikes. James had his own Suzuki SV650 in red and black finish. 

Handling of Sirius’ Triumph was unparalleled, not only did it look artful on the road but it was also incredibly agile. The footpeg was well placed and, accompanied with the raised clip-on handlebars, the position it locks you in for a speedier cruise was so much more compelling compared to his Suzuki. The Triumph definitely didn’t shy away from staking its claim as a sports bike but that only meant it was more addicting to ride. 

And now, here James was…

After breaking down at the side of the road, he had been pushing and pushing the bike all the way into the previous town he had passed and was now on his way to the mechanic shop he had caught a small glimpse of when passing.  He worked up quite the sweat but didn’t pay it much attention; too worried over Sirius’ disappointment and anger. James made a promise to take care of his new motorbike and he had just broken said promise. Staring up at the mechanic sign, James took a breath and clung onto the slight hope that whatever happened could be fixed. 

“Damn,” the new voice makes James’ head snap towards the open garage of the shop, “is that your bike?” 

“Uh…” James struggles to form any words because, how could he when you were staring at him with such pretty eyes and sweet-looking lips? When you were dressed in the typical motorbike mechanic overall-type uniform, all black and clearly oversized, swamping your figure in the most adorable way. Just a moment ago his heart had been racing in fear of Sirius’ fury but now it was racing for an entirely different reason. You’re so pretty… pretty and with the kindest eyes. Your lips are moving… so you’re probably talking to him right now but he can’t hear anything when his eyes are so focused on the way your lips shape around different words. Oh! But he bets your voice sounds as pretty as you so he should probably start listening to you again. 

“--ou okay?” you finish with worried eyes and James could only guess what you were just saying. 

“Y-yeah!..” he bashfully turns away from your gaze, “Sorry about that,”

“It’s alright,” when he turns back to you again, James has to stop himself from sighing dreamily and openly drooling over just how pretty you were. But you were smiling at him! And so sweetly too that his insides melt around the butterflies fluttering around his stomach, “what can we do for you today?”

“My uhh…my friend’s bike. I was just borrowing it and it broke down a few miles from here,” he admits as a frown marks his features with guilt and despair, “I-I don’t know what could be wrong with it…”

“Don’t worry,” James watches you tilt your head in a gesture of welcoming him inside, “we’ll can take a look for you,” if James thought you were pretty before, now he think you’re angelic – he can’t help but believe in your words fully and feel all his worries wash away, banished by the shine of your bright smile and warm gaze, “I’m sure we’ll get you back on the road in no time!”

Forget melting into a puddle, James was evaporating into mist! 

The problem with Sirius’ Triumph Daytona 660 was that it ran out of fuel and James was too busy panicking and stressing over being a bad friend for breaking his promise. That was the good news, the bad news was that he totally just embarrassed himself in front of the cute motorbike mechanic AND now he has no reason to ever see you again! 

Desperate times call for desperate measures…  

…James faces his Suzuki SV650 with his well beloved hockey stick in hand. A sacrifice has to be made and he doesn’t mind it being his bike. Should he aim for the front light or the back? He read somewhere that submerging the engine in water whilst running it would get water in and the air intake wouldn’t be able to compress in the cylinders and end up bending the conrods and smashing the valves. The pool would work for that one.

James looks at his hockey stick again before making a final decision. He can do this for now and when you fix his bike, he can say he ‘accidentally rode his bike into his pool’. Yeah that would work! James raises his arms above his head, aiming for the front light of his Suzuki and takes a breath before swinging down—

“James!” Sirius’ panicked shout makes him seize up entirely, his powerful swing down paused mid-air, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” his best friend had been staying over and was wondering what he had been doing spending so much time in the garage and came walking into an unfathomable scene. 

“Uhhh…” I want to see the pretty mechanic again! 

“The ‘pretty’ what?” Sirius pulls a disbelieving face. This was all for a girl?... It’s not surprising considering the way James used to act around Lily but vandalising his own motorbike? 

Shit! I said that out loud.

“Yes, yes you did…” James can’t bring himself to answer. However, he didn’t have to as Sirius stalks over to the toolbox and grabs a wrench. He didn’t even need to explain himself. Both share a smile before beginning to do a number on his once very beloved Suzuki. 

“Thanks Siri,” panting, James wipes the sweat off his brow and faces his best friend with a boyish grin. Out of everyone else in the world, of course Sirius would have his back and not ask questions–

“Wait– why were you at the mechanics in the first place?”

“Uhhh….”

“James?...”

A/N : like most of my timestamps, i wrote this incredibly sleep deprived but inspired and couldn't wait so here you darlings go <3 please forgive any spelling or grammatical mistakes and i hope you enjoy the fluff hehe~

NAVI.

TAGLIST : @melinajenkins @aastonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @chaosofmanyfandoms @storyofaromance @loving-and-dreaming @somewereinthegalaxi @ashreblogsficshere @cassandra-nerezza-black @stray-bi-kids @ttkttt

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[husbandhoshi]

LILY HI ITS ME STAR!!! HOW ARE YOU I LOVE U AND WISH U ALL THE BEST MUAH MUAH!! also: perhaps smth a little naughty at 11:36 PM with lab partner!wonwoo 👀👀

tags: college!au, inexperienced!wonwoo x f!reader, nerd!wonwoo, experienced!yn, oral (m!receiving)

[11:36]

wonwoo has never liked chemistry.

the periodic table looks like a colorful placemat and a titration might as well be a long winded recipe for a terrible cocktail. (although the ones at the delta tau delta chemistry themed party were good. they served them in little beakers, and wonwoo thought those were quite cute. that was also the party where he met you.)

speaking of you—unlike chemistry, wonwoo does, however, like you a great deal.

which makes chemistry much more tolerable because you are his lab partner.

on the first day of lab, when they had asked the class to pair up, you walked over to him, and wonwoo almost melted right into the ground.

"you're the only one here i know," you whispered, waiting for him to lean down to your height. he did, and you smelled like cherries. "we talked at the delt party. wonwoo, right?"

"yes, i'm wonwoo," he had said, words tripping and tumbling off of his tongue like he was learning to speak for the first time.

it was no better at the party, except he was drunk and you were drunker, and you had made the grave mistake of asking him what classes he was taking. two mike's hard lemonades and a battery acid vodka shot later, his dumb ass was still talking about emily dickinson, and you, somehow, were standing there in those mile-high heels, listening as if he was the most interesting guy at the party.

i think she's totally into you, mingyu had said, in that loud, spitty cadence he has when he's 90% beer.

don't be ridiculous.

but then you had asked wonwoo to walk you to your dorm, and you took the long way, winding right through campus.

he doesn't dream often, but he thinks the one he had that night was red and smelled like your lip gloss.

now, he thanks god for the miracle that is you in an oversized hoodie and shorts in his room past sundown.

granted, you're there to work on the last lab report of the term, and he had seen you just two nights ago at the kappa party, but wonwoo thinks he likes this version of you best. (that night, you had tried to break in your new heels. he ended up holding onto them, and you ended up holding onto him on the drunken stumble home. whether it was for support or for something else, wonwoo doesn't know, but he wishes he wore something different than the ratty polo from the back of his closet.)

"thanks for all your help," you say, closing your lab notebook. "i don't know how you're so good at all of this."

"i'm not," he laughs. he hands you your pencil case with the sailor moon charm, the one you were so proud to show him when he mentioned he watched anime. "it was all you."

you wave him off and bend down to put your things in your bag.

wonwoo tries his best to avert his eyes. he really does.

it's a valiant effort. there's a book out of order on his shelf (anna karenina, tolstoy). he really should have put that gundam figure away before you came over.

and your ass is perfect, but that doesn't really surprise him because he doesn't think there is a single thing wrong with you.

"you know," you start, still rifling around in your bag. "i heard something real interesting from mingyu the other day."

"hm?"

wonwoo changes the backlight color of his keyboard. it does not make him calmer. instead he feels all the peely leather on his gaming chair poke through his sweats and he tries not to think about the little birthmark you have on the back of your thigh.

"he told me that..." you stand straight and turn to face him. there's a fresh coat of gloss on your lips, like a magic trick. "you have a crush on me."

wonwoo doesn't know what to say. he likes to think before he speaks but now you're walking towards him and thinking isn't really an option anymore.

"right?"

"um."

not good. he didn't think he was that obvious but he's no liar.

"fine, i'll start." you're standing right in front of him now, and he thinks the gulp he takes is audible. "i like you."

he watches your lips form around the words, glittery and confident, and if he wasn't doomed before, he certainly is now.

his near perfect gpa is doing jack shit to help him understand why someone like you, gorgeous and funny and smart and popular, would ever take a second look at the gangly boy in the glasses.

but you are���in fact, you're staring with an intensity that makes him afraid you can actually see right through all the clothes he's got on.

"i—" come on, wonwoo thinks. they're the words he wanted to tell you outside your dorm building three weeks ago when you said you didn't know anyone quite like him. "i like you too. a lot."

"good."

the first thing he learns is that you're forward, and he likes that.

the second thing he learns is that your lip gloss tastes like cherry.

your mouth is hot and soft on his. he thinks he died and went to heaven, and then you're kissing him again, catching his bottom lip between your teeth so he whines into your mouth.

the last time he tried kissing was during senior prom. his date stood on her tiptoes and he accidentally bumped his nose into hers and missed her mouth and the whole thing was a disaster.

and yet now, wonwoo feels like he's melted right into your hands. you lead and his body just knows how to follow.

"you're shy, huh?" you murmur, pulling back to look at him. "that's so cute."

he doesn't quite know what he looks like but his glasses are slipping down his nose and he feels the menthol sting of your lips all over his. there has never been this much blood in his cheeks but that doesn't quite make sense to him because he feels all of it going straight to his dick.

"you're perfect," is what the primordial ooze in wonwoo's brain manages to put together.

you kiss him again, and when he remembers to relax his lips enough, you're slipping your tongue in and letting him suck, and you moan.

wonwoo swears he could have blown his load right there and then—when it came to you, it really didn't take much, and now he's wondering what your skin tastes like, craving the cherry of your cunt.

your hand on his chest, sharp nails and glittery rings, trails down nice and slow. it feels like he's on fire. it's a wonderful distraction from the sensation of your teeth on the pretty, taut skin over his collarbone, but then you're biting and licking and he feels his balls get so tight and heavy in his pants he might just cry.

and then your hand comes to rest on his lap, right over his hardness, and wonwoo's about to protest—no, no, sorry, i don't mean to have a boner! i've never been kissed like that before in my life!—until you drop to your knees, right in between his parted thighs.

"has anyone ever touched you like this?" you say, voice low, dizzying. "anyone ever made you feel good?"

he shakes his head no, a new, sudden wave of desire climbing his bones.

mussed hair and swollen lips, you look more beautiful than anyone wonwoo's ever seen in his entire life. he doesn't know what he did in a past life to earn this but he must have saved the world.

"p-please," he says, but it's somewhere between a moan and a gasp because you're palming him through his sweats, the sensation foreign, thrilling.

"patience," you tease, and he would be morbidly embarrassed at the spot of precum on his pants if you weren't already thumbing at it yourself.

once you take his cock out of his sweats, he knows he's losing whatever battle he was fighting. he sees how your hand looks so little around it, and it's his nth struggle to make sure he doesn't just cum in your face. maybe another day, if he's so lucky.

"i-i might cum really fast," he confesses, because he doesn't know how to really say he's never gotten a blowjob before.

"good," you answer. unlike him, somehow you always know exactly what to say.

the third thing wonwoo learns that day is that he's fully, wholly, entirely obsessed with your mouth. with your slick bottom lip, with your tongue, and now with the way he sees your gloss-smeared mouth wrap taut around his cockhead.

wonwoo can never return to watching porn again. there is simply no one quite like you.

"f-fuck," he pants, the feeling overtaking him all at once. "feels so good, mouth's so good—"

one look at your eyes, big and watery and good for him, and he feels his cock twitch in your mouth. and then you start moving; you take him all the way to the base and then some. he feels your tiny little throat close around him, and the groan he lets out is nothing short of pornographic. he never thought he was that big, but seeing your eyes well up and your mascara get all dewy as you gag around him is doing something crazy to his brain.

it doesn't take long for you to fall into an easy rhythm. you're figuring him out so fast, and that would scare him if it didn't feel so good. your tongue's on his veins, the underside of his cockhead, and he's already gripping the armrests of his chair with white knuckles.

you sink down again and swallow around his length, let your throat do all the work, and wonwoo throws his head back, chest heaving. his eyes flutter shut, and the fluorescent ceiling light phases in and out of vision as you give him what could possibly be the best head you've ever given someone in your whole life.

"gonna cum s-soon," wonwoo manages. "you're so fucking hot."

it's either a moan or a whimper that comes out of you when he says that, and he thanks his lucky stars he has the wherewithal to put that information in his back pocket. he doesn't know when or how but his plan is to return the favor to you in full. and if that involves a copious amount of praise, he's all the better prepared because he has no shortage of nice things to say about you.

you take him once, twice to the base and wonwoo feels all the heat in his balls and his belly and then he's cumming, more and harder than he ever thought possible. he almost thinks it's like a piece of his soul was taken from him.

"d-don't have to swallow," he says, but you do, every last fucking drop until it's dribbling from your perfect mouth, and wonwoo is now fully convinced you are a real life goddess.

i'm an addict in the making, he thinks, but then you smile at him with those eyes, and he doesn't think that's such a bad thing.

he searches for the right words to say, something cool, experienced. it's a constant effort to be that guy for you because he's still not really sure why any of this happened.

"stop thinking so hard," you say, coughing once, then wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "i can see your wheels turning."

how you can read him so easily is beyond him. he wonders if you knew he was in love with you the second he laid eyes on you at the delta tau party.

where are my manners, wonwoo then remembers, and the post-nut clarity possesses him to brush the hair out of your eyes and help you up from your position on the ground.

"i like you. i don't care how experienced you are."

he hears you, and he believes you. instead of arguing, he cups your tear-streaked face in his hands and uses his thumbs to wipe your cheeks.

"plus, i think i'm a pretty good teacher."

you smile, and wonwoo has the confidence to kiss you back, for real this time.

[little-paperboat]

i burned my fingers on this forbidden fire (2)

Oh hi! Happy to report that I've just posted chapter 2 of i burned my fingers on this forbidden fire. I can't believe all the love you've been showing this story already from the very beginning, it's made me so happy the entire week 🥰 I didn't really want to wait any long to post chapter 2 so here we are! It's rather short (n' sweet) but it gives us a little awkward Rolan & Tav interaction 😇

Really tiny preview under the cut, thanks for reading x

Rolan emerged from the shadows; an almost surreal figure as the dancing flames in his eyes shone impossibly bright against the darkened room, moonlight sharpening his features. He looked magnificent and every bit like the most talented wizard in the whole damn city. 

“Hi,” she breathed as he stood before her. 

“Hi,” he replied, the ghost of a cocky smile on his lips.

“I- I was held back at work. You know what it’s like,” she dismissed. “The burden of being irreplaceable. But I thought Cal and Lia were supposed to come get me. Are they alright?”  

Maybe they were still nursing a hangover. Her own start of the day had been rather… difficult.

“It was their turn to prepare dinner,” Rolan said with a light frown. “I couldn’t leave you to find the place closed, so I came to get you.”

Practical as always.

“Well, I appreciate it. It would have been rather funny to have to go back to the Elfsong, don’t you think?” 

He pursed his lips, nodding towards her belongings.

“Most funny indeed. Should we go? I’ll take your bags.”

She opened her mouth to object when, with a graceful flick of his wrist, he summoned two mage hands.

Well, wasn’t that humiliating. Not smart enough to think about casting a cantrip that Gale taught her months ago.

Shame flared up in her cheeks again. 

Murmuring her thanks, she followed him up the stairs, desperately trying to come up with an anecdote to remind him that she could also be clever and witty, not just a clumsy guest with an oversized baggage, but nothing came to mind.

— Read the rest on AO3 :)

if you liked it, you also can follow the tag “series:forbidden fire” here on tumblr to not miss any updates :)

(c) divider by @/saradika

[just-call-mefr1es]

i finally got this pride special done akdmekdmsm>_<

u can enjoy this as it is, but just incase anyone’s up for a read, my journey with gender and how it ripped my soul out is under the cut 😋

so, at a kinda young age, i knew that i liked to be feminine, but i knew that i never really wanted to be a girl, if that made sense. id call myself a girl, and sometimes itd feel right, sometimes it wouldnt, but i never payed attention to why. i would wear dresses n be feminine and cutesy stuff but something felt weird whenever a relative said i was such a beautiful girl. i was eight.

then boom, pandemic happened. i personally think the pandemic was a gay awakening for a lot of people, since we all had to stay home and got access to the internet and shit. by then, i figured i was a lesbian, and went with that for a while. girls were pretty, and lil 2020 me wanted to kiss one (i did actually and didnt like it but thsts for another post). i vibed like that for a while; i had a couple of older friends (just by a year nothing much) who were also gay so i thank most of the first things i learned abt lgbt on them.

but, this aijt anout that, this is about gender. so, it was the summer of ‘21, and i was like- ‘hold on a stinkin minute.’ theh had my first ever real gender crisis💗 awh how time flies😽 anygays, i had a meltdown over that, and then came to the conclusion that i was non binary, sicne being a girl was so not me, and i shitting loved how it felt calling myself non binary! adn to add, part of me died a little whenever someone used she/her pronouns for me so i went with they/them; i was so scared of being misgendered back then:(

then, the internet started taking over and i got my grubby lil hands on gaytok (i just watched comps on yt bcus i didnt have tiktok) which was a blessing and a mistake at the same time. watching people like me just be themselves unapologetically was such a moment for me, and i was overjoyed. but unfortunately, some of the not so great caught up.

i saw a shiton of stereotypes abt what each person SHOULD feel, act, dress etc based on their sexuality and gender orientation. i, unfortunately got sucked into the ‘non-binary people have short fluffy hair and hoodies and frogs’ and me, being the dumbass i was, just tagged along with it. at first i thought it was cool, and i still do dont get me wrong! non binary with short fluffy hair who wears hoodies and frogs all day are swagger! my mistake was thinking that all non binary people were like that. and ‘all’ included me.

i thought that if i just had everything that nonbinary people were ‘supposed’ to have, then id finally be happy with my gender and could stop playing this stupid game, and it was like that for a while. 2022 me actually really vibed with that, though! i stocked up on all the oversized hoodies i could scour, stuffed all my hair in a beanie when i cojld and just tried to hide any feminine aspect as fucking much as i could. and it sorta kinda worked! this one time when i was in soccer, this kid asked me what gender i was cause he coukdnt tell and i just💥

that was kinda the end of that tho. 2023 was a school year with ups and downs lmao. i had to leave my kids behind; it was a whole thing. from what i can recall this was rhe year when i started to really get questioning. did i do anything tho? nah. i kept my title as non-binary and moved on, ignoring the confusion that welled up in my gut. by then, it was really hard for me to actually question my gender full-on because it made me super nervous.

some more time later, i finally start sucking it up and taking a good look at what the hell i was feeling. sometimes, i didnt feel like ripping my hair out and chokijg myself slowly whenever someone used she/her pronouns for me, but i still did feel like it sometimes- it confused the hell outta me. i kept thinking on, but made sure i didnt press on it too much because someone finally learned about taking their damn time !! good job me, one thing you can do right that isnt art /sarc

i kept my non binary title for a lil while more as i fugured things out befor my mind said ‘fuck it we ball’ and i just rid the thought entirely. i had a good time existing being unlabled with my gender, but it still felt weird inside. i tried out trans demiboy for a good second, before scrapping that idea as well. i looked into myself a lil more and realized that: hey, being feminine is fun!

all that time from 2020-23 i was deadset and focused on being as far away from being perceived as feminine for a while, from fear of bein misgendered. i had totally missed out how fun doing your hair is, and twirling sround in dresses and just being feminine was. so, i did that. im pretty sure i went back to my non binary title for a bit (this time being smart and taking into account that stereotypes were stupid as fuck) and continued on with being casual wit femininity.

then my head hit the wall- no.. gender? my head hit the gender and on one faithful day it hit me: genderfluid. i might be genderfluid. i thought about it for a while, trying to see how it would feel and oh my holy shit- it fit perfectly. i literally almost cried fr.

no, because i felt like ive been punched in the gut but in a good way- this is it! i finally figured it out!!! i always wanted to have one or the other, and no way i was ginna switch my identity every five seconds; genderfluid was a title that made me feel better. with how i present myself, with how i feel, with how i everything!

and- i shitting loved how free it felt, when i could proudly say im genderfluid. because its literalky me! im fluid with my gender! some days, i dont mind being called a girl- some days i even love it!! but other times its just not for me, and i when i realize that i can just feel like that without feeling like some sort of fraud, i just get all giddy its wonderful>_<

and thats it i guess. my story. huh. im not sure if there should be a moral, but i feel bad if i dont give something to the people, so,, never be afraid to figure out yourself. take your time, and who knows where you’ll end up? who knows, it might be somewhere you might have never thought about.

[echoghost1]

InvisoBang 2023 - Dawn Of Influence - Chapter 7

Title: Dawn Of Influence Chapter 7 Title: Thinking About It Makes It Worse Summary: Danny is in his senior year of high school. His life, even with his still secret half-ghost nonsense, has settled down to a new, but manageable normal. That is until one day he starts to notice something is off. He doesn’t feel right, so he tries to find out what’s going on. His ghost form is changing but he has no idea what it’s changing into or why. Characters: Danny Fenton, Sam Manson, Tucker Foley, Jazz Fenton, Clockwork, Pandora, Frostbite Total Word Count: 17,010 Trigger Warnings & relevant tags: Mystery, Horror, Body Horror, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Ghost King Danny Fenton

You can find my fic on ao3 and read chapter 7 down below the cut!

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | [you’re here] | Ch 8 | Ch 9 | Ch 10 | Ch 11 | Ch 12

SUPRISE ART!!! o((>ω< ))o I had no idea this one was going to happen at all

Danny sat patiently while the phone rang.

It rang again and his leg started to bounce.

It rang again.

“Oh no,” he muttered.

“What?” Sam asked.

“Voicemail.”

“Hi, you’ve reached Jazz Fenton. I can’t come to the phone right now so please leave a message after the beep.” Jazz’s pre-recorded voice said after the fourth ring.

“Uh, Hi. It’s me.” Danny started awkwardly. He did not plan for what to say if this went to voicemail. 

What was he supposed to say here?

He can’t just say his new arms grew in. What if someone else here’s this?

“I, uh, you said to call, if it uh, happened? And it happened. So I’m calling you. Bye.”

He hung up as quickly as he could and just stared at the wall ahead of him.

Voicemails were the worst.

Tucker patted his knee sympathetically, “Good job buddy. Nice and vague. Keep ‘em guessing.”

“I didn’t know how else to say it without saying it,” he whined.

“We should really get better at code words or something,” Sam said with a shake of her head.

Danny slouched in his seat, “Those only work if everybody knows what the codes are.”

“He’s not wrong.” Tucker agreed.

Sam just rolled her eyes.

“Now what?” Danny asked.

“I could order the pizza and we can go back to the movie while we wait for her to call back?” Sam suggested.

Both Danny and Tucker nodded in agreement.

“So one Veggie and one,” she gagged playfully, “meat lovers. Anything else?”

“Can we get a Hawaiian with mushrooms and extra olives?” Danny asked.

“Still don’t get that combination, but okay,” Sam noted.

“Also breadsticks, no cheese sticks. Garlic Bread? Yeah.”

“You good?” Tucker asked.

Danny turned to Tucker, “Oh yeah, sorry. I just got really hungry all of a sudden.”

“You did just grow two new limbs today,” Sam said.

“Technically they’ve been growing for weeks. They just finished today.”

“Whatever, I’m ordering now. Go eat some chips or something.” She pointed to the bar on the back wall.

How did he ever forget about the snack bar?

He wandered over to the bar, grabbed an oversized bowl, and just started adding a little bit of everything. Potato chips, pretzels, hot Cheetos, veggie chips, baby carrots, some gummy worms, both sour and regular, and to top it all off, he drizzled some chocolate sauce on top.

Despite being totally okay with sharing his snack mix, his friends did not want any. He didn’t get why, it was delicious. 

Oh well, more for him.

They kept the movie paused until the pizza arrived just in case Jazz called back while they waited.

Once they had their food they figured they might as well finish the movie. 

After devouring most of his snack and half of a pizza Danny got himself nice and comfortable on the couch. He did not want to move anymore today. 

The familiar sounds of the movie mixed with a full stomach and a very comfortable couch, Danny was asleep before he knew it.

Of course, he didn't know he had fallen asleep until he was woken up.

"Oh sorry dude," Tucker apologized. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Danny wasn’t quite awake enough for words so he just focused on blinking the bleariness out of his vision. 

"You sure he’s actually awake?" Sam whispered to Tucker.

"I can call back later." Jazz said.

When did his sister get here? 

Oh wait, she said call.

That's right! He was waiting to talk to her!

Now that he was fully awake, he reached for the phone in Tucker’s hand. 

"Never mind, he's up," Tucker said before handing Danny his phone. 

Danny placed the phone to his ear and started to pace as he spoke. Partly to wake himself up and partly because of the things he was about to talk about.

“You got my message?” Danny asked.

“I did receive it, yes. Not really sure what you were saying but did get it.”

Danny sighed, “It wasn’t that bad was it?”

“I get you want to keep things private but I literally had no idea what you were trying to say. I spent like twenty minutes trying to figure it out before I called.”

He didn’t really know what to say to that, so he kept quiet.

“Anyway, I’m assuming it’s important since you called.”

“Yeah, it’s just um,” he paused and looked at his friends, they were keeping busy by trying to pick what movie to watch next.

He walked to the bathroom and leaned against the counter, “My arms came in.” he said simply.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said with a shrug she couldn’t see.

“Are you near a mirror?”

“Uh, yeah. Why?”

“I think you should take a look at yourself in the mirror.”

He turned around and faced the mirror. 

Blue eyes looked back.

Fenton looked back.

A little tired, hair a bit of a mess, lanky.

The same as he always looked.

He shifted into his ghost form.

His aura reflected off the chrome and tile making the room even brighter. He considered turning the lights off but stopped himself.

Standing in the dark wasn’t the point.

He kept staring himself in the eyes.

“Danny?”

“Hmm?”

“Tell me what you see.”

“Green eyes, white hair. teeth.” he hesitated, “fangs.”

“Keep going.”

He reached up and touched the tip of his ear, “pointy ears,” his gaze drifted to his hands, his gloves had changed since he had last seen them. They were fingerless gloves now. He guessed that was better than being stretched out or ripped apart, “claws.”

“What color?”

“Dark green. It keeps getting darker.”

“It’s okay, Danny. Look back in the mirror.”

He didn’t know how she knew he wasn’t looking but he did what she asked. He locked eyes with himself again.

“Keep your eyes on your reflection and look down. Slowly.”

He swallowed but did as she asked. Maybe a little too slowly. He wasn’t sure.

He didn’t really want to see it.

His new hands, the lower set, were gripping the edge of the counter.

His hands were pitch black.

Why did they keep doing that?

What did it mean?

“Danny breathe.”

It wasn’t until she said something that he realized he wasn’t breathing normally.

He closed his eyes and pulled his hands away from the counter.

“Can I turn back now?”

He wasn’t really sure why he was asking.

“Go ahead.”

He took a breath and sat on the floor as the rings of his transformation washed over him.

“You did good, little brother.”

“Did I?” He looked at his hand, his normal human hand. It sure didn’t feel like he did good.

“You want me to come home this weekend?”

“What? No, I’m fine!” he answered a little too quickly.

“If you don’t want me to start driving right now, you should tell me why you didn’t want to look.”

“I never said I didn’t.”

“You didn’t need to.”

He could hear her bed creak as she stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“Where do you think?”

He heard her keys scrap against something wooden, probably her desk.

“Jazz seriously, you don’t need to drive all the way here.”

She jiggled her keys by the phone to make sure he heard.

She couldn’t just come home for this, there was no need for that.

“I don’t know! It was weird.”

The keys stopped jingling.

“What was weird?”

“It’s just,” he sighed as he tried to think of how to explain it. “It’s like the accident all over again.”

“How so?”

He floated upwards so he could still sit but also see himself. “When I looked into the mirror the first time and saw green where there should have been blue I,” he stopped.

“You what?” she pressed.

He closed the door and sat back on the floor again.

“I didn’t know who I was looking at. There was a stranger there. He almost looked like me but he wasn’t.” 

He pulled his knees up to his chest and kept going, “That’s why it was so easy to go by Phantom. New name for my new face. I got used to it obviously. I’ll get used to this too I guess.”

“But you don’t want to?”

“Why would I? Why should I? Why do I keep changing? Why do I keep getting weirder? Why can’t I just be normal?”

He took a breath and apologized.

“You don’t need to apologize. I don’t mind listening.”

“Thanks.”

“Have you talked to your friends about this?”

“Why?”

“Because they are your friends?”

“It’ll just start a fight.”

“Why?”

“They don’t get it. They never have.”

“Never?”

“Not when I first turned into a ghost and not now that I’m turning into a monster.”

“You’re not a monster Danny.”

“You sure about that? Because the fangs, claws, and extra set of arms beg to differ. And of course, let’s not forget the added bonus of the literal horns that are still coming in!” 

He stood up and started to pace in the cramped bathroom. “Because being a ghost wasn’t bad enough now I get to look like a demon. Just what I always wanted.”

“Just because you look different, doesn't change who you are.”

“Easy for you to say!”

He has no idea what her reply to that is because he doesn't just hang up on her, he crushes his phone in his fist.

He doesn't need to look in the mirror to know his eyes are green.

He shouldn’t have gotten so angry.

He shouldn’t have shouted.

He regretted breaking his phone.

He tossed the useless tech into the trash and walked out of the bathroom.

His friends make a good attempt at looking away as if they weren’t just eavesdropping.

“Can one of you message Jazz and say I’m sorry?”

Tucker squinted at him from his seat on the couch, “Why can’t you do it?”

Danny just smiled nervously.

“Oh my god, you broke your phone?! How did you do that?”

“I held it too tightly?”

“Geez maybe keep a better eye on that strength of yours. You already broke the bathroom earlier.” Sam teased.

Even though it didn’t really feel like a tease.

Because he had broken things. The tile wall was busted because of him. The shower curtain was damaged because of him. The tub was dented because of him.

All he did was break things.

He ruined everything he touched.

How did that not make him a monster?

[succubusphan]

Two Man Team - Chapter 8

Summary: This is the story of two struggling friends who after many trials and tribulations find their way back to each other and build the life they've always dreamed of.

Or how Phil changed his life by talking to random strangers on the internet.

Rating: E

Tags/warnings: Friends to lovers, Friends with benefits, mental health issues (mainly anxiety), Slow burn, Dan is a psych student. Canon divergence (the timeline is altered and some things never happened), Slutty Phil, Angst with a happy ending. The fic spans many years.

Author's Note: Written for the OSPBB 2023 @oldschoolpbb. Thank you @effingmeteors for being my life saviour and beta as usual and to my artist Lin @anironsidh.

Edits and the art will be added at some point, we are busy bees.

POSTING EVERY DAY UNTIL IT'S COMPLETED.

Total Word Count: 75k ish

Read on Ao3

CHAPTER 8: Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Me

April 2017

Phil rushed through the streets of London, briefly considering if another “Why is Phil running?” situation was worth making it on time, or if he should just slow down and put up with the fucking drizzle. He cursed the weather and his fucking anxiety over being late to places and tried to block any negative anticipation, things that hadn’t happened yet - he was only wet. His therapist always tried to keep him rooted in the present, even if occasionally planning was required for his career, she wanted Phil to stop predicting the future in catastrophic ways and he felt like he was almost getting the hang of it, almost.

He was just five minutes away from his destination when he heard a voice that sounded too familiar.

“Phil!”

He froze on the spot, feeling like his heart was going to explode out of his chest and gave Dan a wide eyed look. He had only noticed a very tall figure totally obscured from view by their oversized coat and hood standing outside a bakery.

“Haven’t heard from you in a while…” Dan said pensively, “How are you?”

Phil resisted the urge to turn around right then and there. ‘Haven’t heard from you,’ Really? Was he serious? He almost said something, but he didn't want to appear so affected. So he answered as casually as he could. “Fine.” He paused, trying to come up with another word, but not knowing what else his life was about. Honestly, it was just work. Barely anything else, just work. “Filming, hosting… you know how it is.”

Dan nodded. “Yeah.”

“So, how are you? What are you up to?” Phil tried.

“I'm actually working in theatre, doing some plays. I graduated from uni and I have patients, so that’s cool as well. And I’m thinking of self-publishing a mental health book at some point, like a guide to keep people afloat. A small project, of course.”

Phil smiled proudly, despite everything. Then, he noticed the blonde guy standing close to Dan, very clearly shooting daggers at both of them but particularly Phil. “Sounds great,” Phil said. “Hi,” he addressed the man.

Dan blinked, as if he had forgotten that he was with someone already. “Oh, this is Sebastian. Sebastian, this is Phil, my friend.”

Both Phil and Sebastian raised an eyebrow at him and Dan was trying very hard not to blush but failing miserably. With the way Sebastian was looking at Phil, he could only guess that they were involved, potentially partners, and that Sebastian knew exactly who he was and about his past story with Dan. He had an accusatory gaze, a not so subtle ‘I know you two fucked.’ That’s right honey, I had him first and there’s nothing you can do to change it. “Nice to meet you, Sebastian,” Phil smiled, unbothered.

“Likewise,” said Sebastian tightly. His voice sounded as stupid and annoying as Phil had imagined, this only made his smile bigger.

“Oh, give me your phone, I’ll put in my new number,” Dan said after a pregnant pause.

Phil grabbed his phone from his pocket but it was at 0% and had shut down at some point.

Dan bit his lip but got a pen from his backpack and started to write the numbers down on the palm of Phil’s hand, the contact sending shivers up his entire arm. Phil wondered why Dan didn’t just ask him for his number and put it in his own phone, but the entire situation was so uncomfortable and weird with Dan being the only one pretending that it wasn’t, that Phil didn’t want to point out the obvious or seem eager to get back in touch with him. He did have some decency and self-respect still, so as soon as Dan was done with his little note, he pulled his hand away. “Well, this was nice, but Mark is waiting for me at the cinema and the movie is about to start.”

Dan’s smile finally fell and Phil took it as a small victory. “What are you guys going to watch?”

“Deadpool,” Phil said, now annoyed that Dan was still talking. 

“We should go to that one,” Dan said to Sebastian.

“Not today,” Sebastian snapped.

Dan opened his mouth but before he could say anything, Phil started walking away. “Bye!”

“Tell Mark I said Hi!” Dan yelled after him.

“I won’t, he doesn’t like you,” Phil said, only at half the required volume for Dan to hear. He left that one to chance.

As soon as Mark saw him, he knew that something had happened and pestered Phil until he confessed and showed him the note on his hand: Dan’s phone number with the words “call me please” under it. 

Mark was quiet during the entire retelling of the story and Phil was about to have a mental breakdown right in the line for the kiosk, but before he could question Mark, it was their turn. They bought 2 cokes and a huge bucket of salty popcorn to share and went up to the queue for their screen. Just as he shuffled everything around and handed Mark some things, Phil realised the moisture of the cup had smudged the ink on his hand away. He stood there in shock, not knowing how to feel about it. 

“Fuck,” said Mark when he saw why Phil was delaying the queue.

Phil looked into his eyes, his mouth agape.

“You were really going to call him, weren't you?”

“I - I don’t know,” Phil admitted, and for a moment, he felt his anxiety trying to rise and consume him but he rationalised things instead. He took a deep breath and stood off to the side with Mark trailing along. He shut his eyes and breathed deeply until he was able to force his body to relax. He looked into Mark’s worried eyes and smiled faintly. “I guess the choice has been taken off my hands. If it hadn’t been, I would have fretted over it for who knows how long. This was probably for the best.”

“You could still try to find him on social media if you really wanted to. Do you still have him on Facebook?”

“No, one of the last things I did on Facebook was unfriend him and that was years ago.” Not wanting to continue pondering about it, Phil just walked down the hallway to get his ticket checked. They entered the theatre and looked for their assigned seats, awkwardly sidestepping down their row since the lights had already been lowered for the ads to begin.

Once they were seated, Phil could feel Mark’s eyes boring holes into his face. 

Mark leaned closer and whispered: “It’s still an option to consider if you want closure.”

“The universe did me a favour; this is a sign to drop it and never think of Dan again,” Phil said, sounding confident despite the uneasiness brewing in the pit of his stomach.

“Don’t tell me that you haven’t thought about him all this time, I know for a fact that you have. Ignoring this will not make that go away.”

“Drop it,” Phil snapped, hearing people shush him. He lowered his voice again. “You’ve hated him for a while anyway, why do you care?”

“I don’t,” Mark shrugged. “I care about you and I don’t think you have moved on.”

“I’ve dated, Mark. What more do you want? He has a partner too, I told you. He was there with him.”

“Oh,” Mark said. “Well, give it a thought.”

“The movie is starting. Pass the popcorn.”

---

Phil spent the next few weeks trying his best to forget about the whole thing, but it popped up in his mind in the most inconvenient moments, like during his radio show or when he tried to film a new video. He couldn’t help but try to picture how his life would be now if Dan hadn’t given up on their friendship. Would they still be hosting together? Filming together? Sharing their London flat?

He briefly considered telling his therapist but he wasn’t ready to hear what she had to say about it. Instead, he remembered what Mark said and logged into Facebook after a million years of absence. He searched for Dan’s profile and gasped at how good he looked in his profile picture with his hobbit hair. He heard their voices in his mind: “Would you keep your hobbit hair for more than a day? Never!” Nature was wise, Dan looked better than ever with his curls.

Phil looked at his previous profile pictures and there were none with Sebastian. He was listed as Dan’s boyfriend though. It caught Phil by surprise, even after seeing them together in the streets of London, Phil didn’t think he would see the day Dan dated a man publicly. Then he noticed something: Dan had sent him a friend request.

He hesitated briefly but if he thought too much about it he was going to faint, so he did what he had become accustomed to do when in doubt: he accepted the request. Then he felt frozen in time not knowing what else to do. Should he be the one to reach out first? Well, technically, Dan had taken the first step with the friend request so maybe it was his turn.

He opened their conversation and his fingers hovered over the keyboard as he stared at the last pathetic attempt Phil made to reach out in 2012 which still had the read receipt. He was about to back out of the screen when Dan messaged him. 

“Can we talk?”

Phil started typing a no but deleted it. He paused for a moment. He started again but this time he pointed out the last message above that had been unanswered for years. He deleted it again.

“Phil, please.”

Phil heard the words just as if Dan was begging right in front of him and hated himself as he typed an “ok.”

“I don’t want things to get messy over text. We should meet at a park or a coffee shop and discuss it in person.”

“You’re pushing your luck.”

“I know I fucked up really badly. Please give me a chance to apologise properly and to explain.”

“I’ve moved on without any explanations. Why would I want them now?” That was a lie. Not only had he not moved on, but he still wondered what the fuck happened exactly. Many times he’d wished he could live inside Dan’s brain to better understand.

“I don’t remember you being so snappy when you were unbothered by something.”

Phil looked at the screen blankly. He had him there. Dan knew him too well, but he wasn’t about to admit that. “People change. I never thought you would do what you did but here we are.”

“If you don’t want to meet up I could call you right now.”

Phil panicked. Fucking Dan, he knew that Phil hated calls. Meeting up was less scary, especially if he had time to plan his replies. Not that anything ever went according to plan with Dan. “Fine. Piccadilly Circus at 5 this Thursday.” It was Tuesday so that gave him two days to prepare.

“I have a show at 7. Tomorrow at 5?”

“Alright.” It was not alright, that only gave him… he looked at the time, about twenty hours to prepare. Dan was not giving him a chance to back out, which was likely to happen if they planned for a later date. He took a deep breath. It would probably be better to rip the plaster off and move on.

“Text me when you get there, I’ll be in the area.”

Phil pursed his lips. “I don’t have your number, I had an accident with a soda at the cinema.”

“An accident with a soda?”

“My hands got wet, ok?”

“Oh, right. +44 20 7734 3124.”

“Right, see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you for doing this.” 

Phil was about to reply, but this time, he smiled and closed the conversation. This time he was the one leaving Dan on read.

---

The following day had Phil overthinking his outfit and wishing he could just ask his followers for advice but he knew that Dan would see the tweet, so he thought back to the poll he’d posted a few months ago and went with the top rated shirt.

He opened his laptop and the first thing he saw was Dan’s profile before Safari crashed and he had to open it again. Once again, he saw Dan’s profile and almost clicked away when something caught his eye. Dan’s relationship status was now “it’s complicated” and Sebastian was no longer tagged.

He smiled and grabbed his keys on the way out, his laptop left abandoned on the sofa.

---

Phil hated himself the moment he laid eyes on Dan. God, how did Dan look even better in person than in his pictures? His hair was perfectly curled at the top and seamlessly faded on the sides. He wore a grey flowery shirt over a pink T-shirt which made evident how much bigger his back was and his jeans were tight enough to display his thick thighs. Phil had to stop that line of thought immediately before it crossed the PG boundaries. Dan smelled so good too, not that Phil was smelling him, that would be creepy and stupid.

“Hey,” Dan smiled confidently. 

That was another thing, Dan was so fucking confident. Unlike in 2012, it was coming from him in waves. He looked like someone who was very sure of who he was. It made Phil feel inadequate and like he hadn’t made that kind of progress all the time they’d been apart. “Hey,” he said, sounding as lame as he felt.

“So, do you want to go somewhere?”

“Hard Rock?” Phil asked, trying to remember any good places around. It was too hot and he wasn’t in the mood for sweating in front of Dan so aircon was a must.

“Sure,” Dan smiled and pressed his hand to Phil’s back gently, guiding him there.

That hand was burning Phil through his shirt like hot iron, but he tried to seem unbothered. 

“So, how have you been?” Dan asked as they walked.

“Uh, just - taking a few days off at the moment. Mostly scripting new videos and relaxing,” Phil said. He’d thought he’d have the walk to compose himself but Dan clearly wanted to break the ice immediately.

“Relaxing is good.”

Fuck, it was his time to ask something. “Err, so you are still acting?”

“Yes, just small roles here and there but I got a bigger one in an indie production starting in September. Nothing too fancy, just ten shows.”

“Ten?” Phil asked, that actually sounded like a lot for an indie production. 

Dan waved him off. “It’s just a hobby. My main focus now is mental health advocacy. I’m working with Young Minds, the charity.”

“Oh, wow.”

“I want to help young people who don’t have access to resources. I think it’s very rewarding.”

“I bet it is,” Phil said, impressed. He knew that Dan was not trying to brag, but was perhaps seeking Phil’s approval. Some things never changed.

“I haven’t gotten to anything important like that,” Phil said,

“You hosted the fucking Brits!” Dan said, not letting him be humble. “I watched it, you were hilarious.”

Phil finally smiled at that. “Thank you,” he said, before he realised that he was being too nice and cleared his throat. They were finally at the door and before Phil could pull it open, Dan pushed it open for him, keeping him from making a fool of himself.

They got a booth by the windows and ordered. 

“Why did you message me?” Phil asked, cutting the pleasantries.

Dan looked a little taken aback but didn't hesitate. “I wanted to catch up and also give you an explanation of why I acted how I acted back then.”

“I don’t know if I want to know. What would it change?”

“Everything… I hope that it changes everything,” Dan said. “First of all, I should apologise for leaving you in the dark like that and for being so chaotic and irresponsible with our work and with us. I promise that it was not intentional, I just didn’t have the proper tools to process everything that was happening in my life and I had to take a step back.” He rushed to say, as if he was almost afraid that Phil would interrupt him or just up and leave. “I know you must have questions too.”

“I guess,” Phil admitted. “But I don’t know where to start.”

“Let’s start with the easiest and go from there. I stopped doing YouTube and collabing with you and dropped out of everything because it got too overwhelming. I didn’t start making videos with the intention of being famous, and having so many eyes on me and commenting on everything I did got to be too much for me. I could have handled it better if literally every other aspect of my life wasn’t falling apart at the same time.”

Phil nodded. “I did notice you getting overwhelmed but when were we not overwhelmed?”

“I know. But that was honestly the least of my issues. I would say the main one, if you want to jump to that, was my sexuality crisis. You know my previous history in that aspect,” Dan said, pausing to take a deep breath, “and it took me a lot of work in therapy to come to terms with the fact that I’m actually gay. Or, well, queer, but men are what I’m mostly interested in. I don’t know about anything else. You know I had a girlfriend and I was attracted to Sam who was afab but non-binary. I think the androgyny helped me in a weird way because they looked like what I liked but if someone questioned me, that was a person with a vagina and older people wouldn’t really think much of it. And yes, I know it’s a fucked up way to see it. It was unfair to think that way about Sam.”

“Did you guys end up together?” Phil asked, not knowing if he wanted to know or not. Phil had become so obviously jealous back then that Dan had stopped mentioning Sam at all.

Dan snickered. “You had your special vendetta with Sam. No, you’ll be happy to know that I realised that they were probably looking for attention or an ego boost, maybe even subconsciously. I don’t think they were interested in me, not really. I also realised that thinking of them as just someone safe to date to explore my sexuality wasn’t fair, so everything worked out in the end.”

“Right. I didn’t like them anyway, so I’m glad.”

“I know,” Dan said and his brow burrowed into a frown. “That’s what really pushed me to leave everything behind.”

“What?”

“Not Sam, but the fact that I felt like our friendship had crossed so many boundaries that neither of us knew where we stood at any given moment and it was too confusing. We were too jealous of everyone but we weren’t dating, and at times it seemed like you wanted to sleep around, and other times you wanted to be my boyfriend and I - I was the same. To be perfectly honest,” Dan said, pausing as if he wasn’t sure if he wanted to say something, but he shook his head and continued. “I wanted to be your boyfriend but I wasn’t out of the closet. I am not out of the closet in half of the aspects of my life today, and - and I thought that with me providing therapy at times, it was so wrong,” he let out a humourless snort. “It is a huge no-no to date your patients and even though I wasn’t officially your therapist or had graduated, we had the rapport necessary for that. I felt that I was in part responsible for your feelings for me. When everything around you is so unstable, it’s easy to cling to someone you see as a safe space and project your feelings into something that it’s probably not real.”

Phil’s mouth was agape. “That’s -” he let out a puff of air and gestured vaguely.

“I know, It’s a lot,” Dan conceded. “It was too much for me.”

“You didn’t give me a choice to tell you if my feelings were real or not,” Phil said, feeling offended at the implication.

“You wouldn’t have known. If you ask someone if their feelings are true and they will say yes 100% of the time, even if they are projecting,” Dan explained. “I felt guilty for potentially causing the confusion and also for not taking things anywhere either. I know that from your end it must have felt like I led you on and bailed but I was just as confused as I thought you were, so that was no good.”

“And now?” Phil frowned. “Do you still think I was projecting?”

Dan let out a deep sigh. “I don’t know, but I wish I would have stayed and tried to work it out - with you. We always worked things out together.”

Phil was about to interject when Dan continued.

“On the other hand, I don’t think I would be who I am today if I hadn’t left the safety blanket that was our friendship. You kept saving me every single time and I needed to learn to save myself, to be my own person, not just Dan from Dan and Phil. And I think that you grew into such a beautiful person and into your brand. I feel like being Dan and Phil on camera and in life was stunting our growth. So while I wish I would have stayed and I apologise for the way I handled things, if I had to go back I think I would still leave. For a while at least. I didn’t think it would take me this long to figure it out.”

There was a pregnant pause. Dan kept looking into Phil’s eyes, as if searching for something, but Phil was in a turmoil so big that he could barely form a semi-coherent thought. “I don’t know what to say,” Phil admitted, feeling like his head was about to explode. None of the things he’d planned to say applied to the conversation anymore.

Dan inclined his head in understanding and continued. “I also needed to stay away from the public eye to resolve my identity crisis,” he said. “I am getting tired of having to come out in my day to day life though, so I’ve been writing a YouTube video, a massive one, explaining everything. I think that people deserv- well, no, they don’t deserve it, I know I don’t owe them an explanation - but I would like to let them know why I was so rude at times. Speaking of rude: Do you still speak to Charlie?”

Phil frowned, thinking for a moment. “Skies?”

“Yeah,” Dan confirmed in a sour tone.

“Ew, no. Of course not,” Phil said, taken aback. He hadn’t even thought about Charlie in years. “Outing people is not cool.”

“Good. I don’t like that guy,” Dan admitted. 

“I know.”

Dan leaned forward just a tiny bit, his voice low and almost secretive. “Would you please read the script and watch the video before it comes out? It will be very honest so you will be mentioned.”

“Oh, boy.” Phil’s eyes widened. “What do you plan to say? You haven’t posted in years.”

“Maybe I’ve finally lost it,” Dan laughed. “For now it says something around the lines of that we were friends and more than friends but when it comes to our current relationship we are both very private people so we won’t comment on it.”

Phil downed his already cold coffee but remained silent until he really processed what Dan was trying to say. “So it is a coming out video of sorts.” He said, trying to predict people’s reaction to that. 

Dan nodded. “Is there something I shouldn’t say? My thought process was that we never said it outright but people know we had sex. We constantly posted about it on Twitter and everywhere and you have hickeys in some videos. They were not stupid, they’ve always known.”

“Except for the ones that wanted us to be straight because they want to fuck us,” Phil reminded him.

Dan huffed. “I hope those ones cry.”

“That’s mean,” Phil said but smiled.

“Being homophobic is meaner.”

“True,” Phil said but he reminded himself that he had always tended to do this, just what he was doing now. He was putting Dan first, already helping him with a new project, bouncing a concept and hearing him out just like Dan wanted. It was time to put himself first, and that was something Phil did manage to make progress on over the last few years. “Alright do that,” he mumbled and tried to stir the conversation back to their past issues. “There are a few things I want to know for my peace of mind.”

“Ask away,” Dan said, sitting up.

“Why didn’t you text me? It’s been five years. It just doesn’t make sense with what you’re saying.”

Dan paused, considering it for a moment. “I didn’t understand myself and didn’t want to drag you or our friendship down but I did hope you’d text. Every birthday, and every holiday, I waited, but you never texted. It wasn’t a clean cut that I wanted either, but you stopped reaching out, so it happened naturally.”

Phil’s face morphed into one of pure rage, he knew this because Dan leaned back, almost bracing himself for impact. “I stopped reaching out? When I texted you, you seemed fucking bored and annoyed with me, so I figured you would text me if you really wanted to stay friends,” he hissed. “You know, that’s fucking rich coming from you. You gave me so many mixed signals and only reached out when you needed a shoulder to cry on, or someone to solve your problems, and then just hoped that I would never take the hint that you wanted me fucking gone. How was any of it my fault?”

“I don’t think it was your fault,” Dan said, defensively, “but I think that you sent some mixed signals as well which didn’t help at all.”

“I wasn’t confused. I cried myself to sleep so many times because you acted like you wanted to be my boyfriend and then decided to pretend that it never happened and just asked me how to get into someone else’s pants. What the fuck was that about?” Phil snapped, trying to keep his voice down.

Dan winced. “Well - you were my only friend. I’m not defending my actions, I’m just explaining what my thought process was. And you were experienced with just sleeping with your friends.”

Phil narrowed his eyes at Dan. “Are you slut shaming me?” he said but continued without waiting for a reply. “I told you for years and years that all I wanted was a relationship, someone who treated me well, that didn’t cheat on me and that loved me. How did you take it as me not wanting to be with you? I was just doing what people offered, which was casual sex.”

“And there was Mark. He was not casual,” Dan snapped, raising one eyebrow at him, his eyes full of barely restrained rage.

“I told you a million times that Mark and I were not dating. It was not like that between us. We just had sex because we weren’t dating anyone else.”

Dan exhaled through his nose in disdain. “What about all the times Mark made it clear that I was not welcome in the flat? He was jealous.”

Phil scoffed. “He wasn’t jealous, he just started to hate you because he thought that you were playing games with me and sometimes he did things to test his theory, like kiss me in front of you or be hostile. You failed miserably every time by the way.”

“That drove me insane. I was so jealous of him being able to touch you like that whenever he wanted,” Dan’s face fell, now looking more sad than angry, his voice going lower. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “I’m sorry that I messed up so badly, I really am. Now that I know myself better, I know that - I never got over you, Phil. I still feel exactly the same.” He reached to rest his hand on Phil’s. “If you still-”

Phil pulled his hands away. He felt a cold sensation running down his body and stood suddenly. “No,” he said and rushed out the door, hailing a taxi and going home.

[nightsidewrestling]

D.U.D.E Part 18 - Baby Makes Three... or Four (Set in 2021)

Note: This is set in a universe where Men VS Women / Intergender matches can happen.

Chapter 1: here Chapter 2: here Chapter 3: here Chapter 4: here Chapter 5: here Chapter 6: here Chapter 7: here Chapter 8: here Chapter 9: here Chapter 10: here Chapter 11: here Chapter 12: here Chapter 13: here Chapter 14: here Chapter 15: here Chapter 16: here Chapter 17: here

Tags: @piratewithvigor @tantamount-treason @thedollmaker16 @janetreader

Around 2000 Words. 18+ in places (those chapters will be marked as 'Mature / sexual content' just to be safe). Please inform me if you wish to be tagged or untagged from posts. If the text is in italics and orange it's Kirby's inner monologue. If the text is coloured but not in italics, it's either dialogue or a P.O.V change (P.O.V changes will be in bold and translated dialogue will appear in square [ ] brackets), Key below. Quick note on Geia's text colour: Yes I do know that as Greed she should be in yellow but I decided to colour the men's dialogue yellow so Geia was changed to be pink like the other women in the story outside of the main 8.

The Main 8: Damo - Bio. Vi - Bio. Billie - Bio. Geia - Bio. Kirby - Bio. Honey - Bio. Eli - Bio. Sara - Bio.

Kirby's P.O.V:

"Two babies." Kirby smiles as she holds the ultrasound picture.

Eddie and Mox chuckle as Kirby gleefully giggles and spins in the backyard of their Airbnb. Renee walks out with a beer for both the boys and a bottle of water for herself.

"Do you know how many years I thought I couldn't get pregnant, but two babies, two?" She stops giggling, her eyes welling up with tears.

Eddie stops laughing, putting his beer down and rushing to wrap Kirby in a tight hug, "I got ya, Ma, ya a'ight. Breathe, Kirby, deep breaths."

She buries her face in his neck, sobbing against his skin, tears of happiness, but still sobs, clinging to Eddie like he's her entire world.

"So, I'm guessing the twins will be a miracle to you, Kirby?" Jon asks softly.

She lifts her head, from the crook of Eddie's neck, "When I was eighteen, the doctors told me, they had me fully convinced, that I couldn't have children. You know the fact I'm a giant, that's why I was thought to be barren, forever childless. To be told that I'm not just pregnant with one, but two, that's... that's somethin' beyond my wildest dreams."

"Our little miracles, God was kind enough to bless me wit' you, now he's blessin' us wit' them." Eddie whispers, holding Kirby protectively.

Kirby had gone back to New York the next week, spending April and beginning of May around Eddie's parents. She wakes up on the morning of the 14th, to the sound of barking, not dog barks but human barking, echoing through the house 'Arf, Arf' like a loud bad cough. She gets up and throws on an oversized t-shirt and maternity leggings, cautiously opening the bedroom door

"Who the fuck is out here barking? Don't you know it's six in the morn...ing... Hello, Stranger." She stops in her tracks, smiling upon seeing the figure.

Eddie pulls Kirby into a gentle hug, kissing her deeply.

"You missed the second ultrasound, I got pictures and info for ya."

"I'm sorry I missed it, but tell me everythin' Ma." He smiles and kisses her softly.

"Okay, first of all, ya mother is a saint, and second of all, do you wanna know what gender the twins are?"

"I'm sure my mother knows she's a saint, and yes please, Sweetheart."

"Both are boys, ya bloodline continues." She smirks.

Eddie grins, "I know what my motha's like, what have you, and her, been thinkin' of namin' my sons?"

"I was thinkin' Emyr and Ethan, or Eirian and Elisedd."

"I know you, what do the ones other than Ethan mean?"

"Emyr, is Welsh, it means 'King' or 'Lord'. Eirian is-"

"One of your middle names." Eddie teases.

"I know that, but it's gender neutral, and means 'bright' and 'beautiful' in Welsh. And Elisedd is also Welsh, and means 'kind' and 'benevolent', and was the name of two Welsh kings."

"I think we name one Ethan and one Emyr, and give them both Irish and Welsh middle names that only you can pronounce. That way, when our boys are naughty, when they show how much their Pá has influenced them, you're the one who knows exactly how to yell their full names, and get them back in line." Eddie chuckles as he sways them from side to side.

"I like that idea, Kingy. You gotta fly out tomorrow, don't ya."

"Yea, but I wanted to have a day with my Wifey, so I chose today. Just you, and me, and a very comfortable bed. I wanna talk to my boys, and relax with my Doll." He smiles softly, throwing his phone on the couch next to his bags

"How're ya gonna do that when you... oh, you mean the twins."

"Pregnancy brain?"

"Yep, that's why ya mother's a saint."

Eddie chuckles as he picks Kirby up, holding her, bridal style, in his arms and taking her to the bed. He talks to the bump for the rest of the day, only leaving to grab food, or drinks, for himself and Kirby.

He leaves an 'I love you' note for her the following day, before he flies back to Jacksonville. Kirby gets to August before having to call Eddie with an emergency, his phone doesn't pick up, but luckily for him it's a false alarm.

Kirby's halfway through her breakfast, on the morning of the 26th of August, when the door swings open and Eddie, Mox and Homicide walk in, all three men looking panicked, Renee however looks calm as ever when she sits next to Kirby.

"How's the babies treating you?" She asks, softly touching the bump.

"They're evil, nah I'm kiddin', they're fine. Yesterday though, oh jeez, nearly had a heart attack when Doughboy didn't pick his phone up. Luckily for him, it was a false alarm, Braxton Hicks, thought I was in labour when I wasn't." Kirby explains, shovelling spoonful after spoonful of cereal into her mouth.

"See, I told you three it wasn't happening for real."

"Still could've picked ya damn phone up, Edward. Wifey thought she was givin' birth, Edward. Ya mother's currently annoyed with you, as am I."

"Where is he? Eric texted me to say he picked him up from the airport." A very annoyed Ruth emerges from the spare bedroom.

Eddie tries to use Homicide as a shield when his mother starts yelling at him in Spanish, very angry Spanish, before she hits him in the arm a couple times, finishing her tirade by hitting Eddie around the ear.

"Thank you, Ruthie, I'm sure ya would've killed him for me if he actually missed their birth." Kirby smirks, sticking her tongue out at Eddie when she walks past him.

"I'm not gonna miss their birth, I'll take as much time off as I need to," Eddie explains, wrapping his arms around Kirby's waist, "You wanna sit outside in the sun together, beautiful?"

"As long as you help me up, handsome."

Eddie leads Kirby to the back patio, sitting on the steps with her between his legs, relaxing with his wife for around an hour before Kirby's breathing spikes.

"Oh shit, oh fuck." She mutters, feeling her water break.

Ruth and Renee look at each other before helping Kirby up.

"Jon, call an ambulance" Renee whispers, Jon nods and does so immediately.

"Eddie, go put on something presentable, you're going to meet your boys sooner than expected." Ruthie orders her son, giving him a stern look when he grumbles.

"Oh fuck, holy shit," Kirby whispers breathlessly, "Ruth, how did you manage to do this twice?"

"Neither time was twins, and they were easy babies," Ruth shrugs, "Nelson, you hold her steady, I'm going to get the hospital bag." Ruth instructs, leaving Renee and Nelson (Homicide) to hold up the, very pregnant, giantess.

It takes five minutes for the ambulance to reach the house, enough time for Eddie to realise that it's not a false alarm and start panicking and praying.

"Edward." Kirby growls.

"Yes, Doll?" Eddie looks at her from, where he's sitting in the ambulance, between Ruth and a paramedic, halfway between the house and the hospital.

"Prayers will not help right now." She glares at him.

Eddie goes silent and protect his crotch.

By the time they reach the hospital, Eddie's holding Kirby's hand and trying to hide his emotions, failing at the latter miserably, and looking more of a mess than Kirby.

Eddie nearly faints when the doctors show him how far through pushing Kirby is, the forehead of their first son visible.

He has a nurse check on his hand, after Kirby's done pushing out the first baby, she just tells him that nothing's broken and to focus on his wife.

By 5:30 pm on the 26th of August, both of the twins are resting in cots, next to Kirby's hospital bed.

"How long have they been sleeping, Eddie?" Kirby asks softly.

"Emyr's been asleep for two and a half hours, Ethan's been asleep for half an hour, and you, Ma, have been so strong and brave, ever since you came into my life."

"And you, my handsome man, nearly fainted." She chuckles softly.

"The beauty of childbirth," Eddie chuckles, "Guaranteed to make men either faint or puke."

"But it's worth it. Our sons, our beautiful baby boys. Emyr Faolán Peredur Ariel Moore, born two-twenty pm and Ethan Lorcán Gwyn Joel Moore, born four-fifteen pm, both on the twenty-sixth of August twenty-twenty-one."

"Our boys. My sons. The sons of a beautiful, Celtic giantess and an idiot from New York."

"You're not an idiot, you're handsome and charismatic, and you make me laugh."

Eddie climbs into the hospital bed next to Kirby, holding her close and kissing her deeply.

"You can tell my Da, he wasn't here for the birth of his first grandchild, or the second."

"I'll take that on, they can yell at me and not you, after that I can deal with ya father's anger. I've dealt with an angry, sweaty, violent, in labour, you."

"Did you see Emyr's eyes when he opened them, green, like yours." Kirby sighs happily.

"Ethan's got your deep blue eyes, but they both, for sure, have my nose." Eddie grins proudly.

"I heard the nurses say something about them breaking a hospital record, so I think they might have my gigantism."

"If they do, I don't mind, it'll just mean two more amazing giants in the world, like their mother and her beautiful stretch marks."

"Don't mention the stretch marks, I don't like 'em."

"But they add to your beauty in strength, you look more badass and that's the real miracle, somehow adding stretch marks to an already badass babe, made an even more badass baby mama."

Kirby's about to kiss Eddie when Emyr yawns, both Eddie and Kirby look over at the cots. Eddie gets up and picks him up, passing him to Kirby. She holds him close to her chest and smiles softly.

"Hey, little one. Eddie, he's opening his eyes. Aww, my little king."

Eddie grabs his phone, taking a photo of Kirby with Emyr, picking up Ethan and taking a selfie with both his kids and his wife. Kirby watches as he posts it to Twitter and Instagram, not mentioning their names.

"This is gonna sound so wrong, but ya gonna have a kid on both tit for a while, if ya breastfeed." Eddie chuckles, smirking at Kirby.

"Edward." Kirby raises an eyebrow in response.

"What," he shrugs, "it's true."

"It may be, but I saw the look in ya eyes."

"Okay, maybe I was thinkin' of putin' ya tits in my mouth."

"Don't hold Ethan like that." Kirby scolds as Eddie balances the younger twin in one hand.

"He's safe, I got him." Eddie whispers, placing Ethan back in his cot.

"I gotta call Mike, and Ash, and Yoshi, and Jack... God, I must call Jack... he'd lose his mind." She murmurs, cradling Emyr in her arms.

"Jack? One of your cousins?"

"Nope, better, Jack Marciano."

Eddie's eyes light up at the idea, "Holy fuck, he'll go crazy... shit, I shouldn't swear around the babies."

"Nope, but they're young enough not to remember, or repeat it, in a couple years though, ya won't be so lucky."

Eddie kisses Kirby gently, a beaming smile on his face. He places Emyr back in his cot, and climbs into the bed next to his wife.

The following morning Kirby's allowed out of the hospital, she's still dressed in maternity clothes, Eddie takes her out, to a nearby café, so he can smoke, and so she can have a cup of coffee with him.

"I went through ya phone, called everyone ya Da told me to." Eddie murmurs, watching Kirby take her first post-pregnancy taste of coffee.

"And...? Ya can't just leave me at that."

"And, beautiful wifey, ya friends are gonna try to fly out to see the boys. Oh, and Jack's real fuckin' mad that we didn't tell him, about us, sooner." Eddie takes a drag of his cigarette, breathing out the smoke away from Kirby.

"If I hadn't spent, nearly all of, yesterday giving birth to twins, I'd spend all day today in bed with you."

"Keep it in ya pants," Eddie chuckles, smirking and winking at her, "Sexy baby mama."

"Sexy? Baby weight on me still, and I'm sexy?"

"Ya always sexy to me, Ma." He whispers.

"Emyr and Ethan are gonna have a weird childhood." Kirby sighs softly.

"Yeah, but they have us as parents, and we are very capable of beating up bullies."

Kirby's phone buzzes in her back pocket, she reads the message before looking at her husband, "You finish ya cigarette, we can take the boys home in a little while."

[owllovers]

Owl Figurines from Owl Lovers Store

Have you ever looked at action figures and wondered if you could do the same with your favorite animals? OWL LOVERS offers Owl Figurines with the highest level of intricacy and durability without compromising the price tags. Check the boxes below and find out what type of figurine is the best fit for your taste!

Tips To Choose Perfect Owl Figurines

After looking into what our customers prefer and how satisfied they are with their choices, we have come up with a list of criteria that will help you ensure the owl figurines bring both aesthetics and comfort to your living space.

Determine the Purpose

Not every figurine has the same effect on the scenery, hence you need to set your expectations clear. Do you want owl figurines for gardens or indoor rooms? The sizes and the materials might vary greatly depending on your answer. Furthermore, a figurine can be a mere home décor as well as a symbol of what you believe in. People usually stick to realistic colors of owls if they are looking for solemnity, but decorative purposes would open up more choices of colors and shapes.

Consider Your Overall Theme

If you have so much creative juice, you should certainly use every drop of it to make sure the figurine matches the layout and the message you wish to convey through your interior design. Even when you are not confident with your idea, you can rely on a few basic rules. Firstly, don’t underestimate the background! A plain, neutral-colored wall would complement your vintage owl figurines beyond expectations. Likewise, a Snowy Owl might be better if you love your flowery wallpaper. Secondly, give your owl figurines some friends. You can pursue a modern theme, of course, but having something with a connection to nature would make your owl figure look way better!

Decide On The Size of the Owl Figurines

A huge statue in a small, cozy living room would be bizarre to look at, hence the size of your figurine is extremely important. You won’t need to look for a grand figure even if you want to decorate your garden, terrace, or any open space. Don’t forget that you are trying to entice your onlooker and not to shove an oversized home décor to their face! There should be a balance between the figure and everything you arrange around it. On another note, shelves, counters, and tables only need 10 inches at most for the height of the figurine. A set of several cute owl figurines would also look lovely on the top of your office desk!

Set Your Budget

As always, set a fixed budget before you dive into the market and spend your hard-earned money on something, and even our owl items are not an exception. If the owl figurine is meant to be the center of your space, it is reasonable to invest in sophisticated designs even for a higher price. For outdoor areas, premium materials with endurance would be much more suitable, while indoor spaces call for more details. Don’t break your bank account for something that doesn’t meet all the critiques above!

Enjoy Your Shopping!

We take pride in providing our customers with the most embellished and intricate owl figurines, but we would always recommend believing in your eyes and taste! Sometimes, less is more, but you might also want to unleash your inner designer on certain occasions. We hope you have a great time on OWL LOVERS and at home with these beautiful figurines.

Source: https://owl-lovers.com/product-category/owl-toys/owl-figurines/

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[gainingfiction]

Thrifting

Summary: Ali works at a second-hand store. Evan is a regular customer who donates clothes as he outgrows them. As Evan’s size increases, so does the attraction between the two men.

~

S

Evan adjusted the waistband of his slim-fitting track pants as he approached the storefront, a garbage bag of old clothes clutched in his free hand. Like most of the clothes he was giving away, the track pants were extra-small, and they didn’t fit quite as well as they had a few months earlier. They were getting harder to pull over his butt, and the elastic was starting to leave an imprint around his waist when he stripped them off at the end of the day. When his friends asked him to go thrifting, he decided it was as good a time as any to size up to a small.

He followed his friends into the store. They were college classmates, all stylish girls with elaborate, glittering eye makeup, baggy jeans, and crop tops that showed off their toned midriffs. Evan liked to keep up with fashion, too, and generally took care of himself, at least in the skincare and haircare department. But since getting into his first long-term relationship, he may have let his diet and gym regime slide a little, hence the need for some new threads.

The store was quiet when they entered, the air smelling vaguely musty. The first thing Evan noticed was the cashier. He looked to be in his mid 20s, slightly older than Evan, and tall: about a head taller than Evan, who stood at 5’7”. He was dressed in a loose-fitting graphic tee featuring Blondie, a pair of oversized jeans, and some hightop sneakers from the 80s or 90s. He exhaled a cloud of vape smoke, tucking his Juul into his pocket at the sight of customers.

Evan was instantly smitten, stomach fluttering as he walked up to the counter. When he reached the cash register he noticed the guy’s name tag, identifying him as Ali, and the way his dark eyes seemed so calm and intelligent. He had black curls that fell around his face to about his chin, and a prominent but well-proportioned nose. He gave Evan an easygoing smile as he approached. He was thin, but with a wiry strength that made Evan acutely conscious of the way his stomach had started to brush oh-so-slightly against the front of his form-fitting shirt.

“I have some clothes to give away,” Evan said. “But I didn’t see a donation bin.”

“You can give them here,” Ali said. He accepted the heavy bag with one hand, bicep flexing, and set it behind the counter.

“There’s lots of good stuff there,” Evan said. “It just doesn’t fit great anymore. You know, relationship weight.” He flashed a sheepish grin in Ali’s direction. Why did I say that?

The cashier gave a knowing nod. “Well, thanks so much. Most of the proceeds go to the local animal shelter, so we really appreciate it.” Another easy smile, as the guy coursed a hand through his glossy hair, melting Evan’s heart.

He could have spent the whole day staring, but his friend, Cassie, approached, carrying a sweater. “Evan, check this out! It’s a Calvin Klein quarter-zip in great condition, you should give it a try.”

Evan turned and followed her to the mirror, watching from the corner of his eye as the handsome cashier turned to sift through Evan’s old clothes. He’d have to come shopping here again.

M

Ali pushed rice around his plate, keeping his eye on the time. He had work soon, which gave him a great excuse to ditch his family lunch.

“You coming to my graduation this weekend, bro?” Faisal asked. Ali’s brother was a 26-year-old health nut, who wore a buzzcut and a rotation of tight-fitting v-necks to flatter his gym-trained figure. He’d just finished med school.

“Of course he will be there,” their father answered, before Ali could respond. He was a commanding presence, with a broad belly and a bushy moustache. He kept his thinning gray curls cut short, a relic of army life.

“Not like he’ll have one of his own,” Shadia said, smirking.

Ali rolled his eyes. His little sister had just started work as an engineer, and she loved to look down on Ali’s education, job, apartment, and fashion sense. And since he came out to her, she also made fun of his taste in men, dubbing them “doughy white guys.”

“Be nice,” their mother said. She was laid back, with an average build and culinary skills Ali could only dream of. Before immigrating, she was also an engineer, but now she helped run the family restaurant. “Speaking of nice, I told Noor you will take her daughter out for dinner this weekend. She is a very sweet girl, I know you will like her.”

Ali felt a lump in his throat. The pressure to start a family had been ramping up since he turned 25, and he knew he couldn’t hold his family off forever. Shadia looked at him with concern.

“Sounds great,” he managed.

Then, he said his goodbyes and left for work, eager for some mindless tasks that could distract him from his pushy relations. In the parking lot outside the store, he slipped on his favourite choker and undid his button-down shirt, revealing a loose tank top underneath. He flipped his septum piercing out of his nostrils. Feeling more like himself, Ali walked in, tying a patterned fleece around his waist as he went.

It was boring for a while, but things got a little more interesting a few hours into his shift, when a familiar figure entered. It was the guy from a few months ago, who had come in with his friends. Ali recognized the way his chestnut hair flopped in front of his forehead, and remembered how he’d talked about relationship weight, flashing Ali a shy grin with dazzlingly white teeth. Evan, was it? Ali was pretty sure he’d heard one of the girls call him that.

He entered with an equally handsome and very well-built young man. It had been a few months since his last visit, and Evan’s shirt looked even tighter today than Ali remembered, framing not just his slight belly but a pair of small love handles that poked over the waistband of his pants, forming a little muffin top. Looser clothes might have hidden his pudge completely, but his form-fitting apparel put his extra 20 or so pounds on display.

The two men approached the counter, with the brawny one carrying a bag.

“Another donation?” Ali asked, with a smile.

“Yeah,” Evan said. “Outgrew some more clothes.”

The hunky boyfriend rolled his eyes, slightly. “Are you totally sure you want to give these away? You’ll probably fit back into them soon,” he said.

Evan bit his lip, looking embarrassed. “I don’t know, I can always buy new ones,” he said. He didn’t sound too confident.

Ali accepted the bag, thanked the men, and left them to their shopping. As they walked away, Ali noted the way Evan’s perky bubble butt packed his black denim pants, the curves of each cheek hugged by the taut fabric. He sighed and opened the bag for sorting. Evan’s last donation had been full of extra-small clothes, but this bag was full of smalls and a few mediums, with jeans that went up to 33”. It was all in great condition, and medium was Ali’s size… he’d definitely be buying some of these for himself.

As he separated different types of clothing, Ali watched the two men with silent jealousy. He wondered if Evan would lose weight, as his boyfriend predicted, secretly hoping that he wouldn’t.

L

The bell in the doorway trilled as Evan entered the thrift store. Standing next to Hannah and Cassie, he felt particularly fat, aware of the way his medium shirt cradled his soft belly and love handles, which muffin topped over the waistband of his too-small shorts. In just three months, he had definitively outgrown all of his medium-sized clothes. And when his chubby backside popped the seam at the seat of his pants during work one day, Evan knew he couldn’t keep putting it off: he was overdue for an upgrade.

His breakup with Jeff had been hard. It was the sort of breakup that made Evan lock himself in his room and eat four thousand calories of rocky road ice cream in a single sitting. Jeff had always been shallow, but dumping Evan over an extra 40 pounds was a particularly heavy blow to his self-confidence. And rather than inspire him to get back in shape, it just inspired him to wallow in self-pity, turning his 40-pound weight gain into a 55-pound weight gain. Evan now weighed 197 pounds, by far the heaviest he’d ever been. He wasn’t proud to be a size large, didn’t like that his pants were at least six inches larger than his former waist size, but he couldn’t live in denial forever. Especially when his added poundage was pushing his clothes beyond their breaking point.

He felt a mixture of excitement and nervousness when he saw Ali at the cash register. He looked totally gorgeous in a slim-fitting bowling shirt, and he now sported a short, well-styled beard. Evan was secretly hoping his favourite cashier would be working, since it would give him a chance to ask Ali out.

Evan approached the checkout, toting his bag of undersized clothes. His palms were clammy as he stood in front of Ali, heart pounding.

“More donations?” Ali asked. His voice was so soft and smooth that Evan felt a little more at ease.

“You know me,” Evan said. He didn’t need to explain it anymore; the evidence was written across his widening torso and burgeoning hips.

“Well, thanks so much,” Ali said, taking the bag in his strong arms.

Evan hesitated. Now was his chance. “Hey, I was just wondering if… would you maybe want to go out sometime?”

The way Ali’s face dropped made Evan feel self-conscious, like his impossible request had embarrassed a guy who was way out of his league. “I’m, uh, engaged, actually,” Ali said. His tone was bland, without a trace of excitement in his voice. If anything, he sounded disappointed.

Evan kept a smile on his face, to mask his own disappointment. “Oh wow, congratulations! When’s the wedding?”

“We haven’t set a date yet,” Ali said, without hesitating. “Fatima wants a spring wedding, I think.”

“Huh,” Evan said. He was surprised to hear that Ali was engaged to a woman, but he did his best to hide it. His gaydar was usually spot-on; maybe this guy was bi? “Well, I’m sure it’ll be lovely. I bet you’ll make her very happy.”

Ali smiled weakly. “Thanks. Oh, by the way, I don’t know if you like kebab or shawarma, but my family has a restaurant downtown. I do shifts there sometimes, so you might see me around, if you’re ever out for a bite.” Ali gave him the address.

“Middle Eastern food is my favourite,” Evan grinned. He made a mental note to check it out, and not just for the food.

Donation complete, Evan returned to the racks of clothes. The rejection stung, but at least Ali hadn’t shut him out entirely. The invitation to his family’s restaurant was far from a date, but it gave Evan hope that they could at least be friends. 

He was distracted from his fantasies by Hannah, seeking an opinion on a slightly hideous knit beret. As he checked it out, Evan noticed Ali staring in his direction, a wistful look on his face.

XL

Ali stared across the bar, wanting to go home and sleep. He’d met his sister at a small pub near the thrift store, to give her some clothes he thought she’d like. Shadia didn’t drink, but Ali nursed a vodka tonic, feeling miserable. All his work was running him into the ground, but at least it gave him a reason to neglect his personal life. Other than going to the gym, he didn’t do much besides work and sleep.

“You look exhausted,” Shadia said. She had a real knack for mixing judgment with concern.

“Thanks,” Ali said, frowning. “The store was busy today. Lots of back to school shoppers, and people giving away summer clothes.”

He didn’t mention the worst part of his day, when Evan came in with yet another donation, looking more overfed and adorable than ever. Ever since the growing young man had asked him out, he’d been all Ali could think about. His cute, round face, the way his cheeks dimpled when he smiled… he was so damn cute, and Ali had turned him down.

After Evan left, Ali had sifted through his donations. They were mostly size L, with plenty of stretched-out elastic waistbands. When Ali noticed a pair of tiny pink swim shorts, he imagined Evan wearing them at the beach, frolicking in the sun and sand with his beautiful chub on full display. The fact that he was giving them away suggested that they had gotten too small for public viewing. Ali had shoved the bag aside, trying to rid his mind of thoughts of those swim shorts, skin-tight against Evan’s round bottom, seams fighting against his chubby thighs.

But as much as he wanted to get Evan out of his head, the universe seemed to have different plans. Ali nearly choked on his drink when he saw Evan walk into the bar with a tall, slender guy. Evan’s companion seemed about Ali’s age, with an unremarkable face and thin brown hair. He was dressed in khakis and a dress shirt, which fit him far better than the fashion-forward corduroy shorts and tight patterned shirt swaddling Evan’s hips and gut.

Ali tried to hide his face, but Evan noticed him immediately, and pulled his boyfriend in Ali’s direction. Shadia seemed generally oblivious, sipping cranberry juice and staring at her phone.

“Hey! Funny seeing you here,” Evan said, standing by their table. His perfect smile was like a sledgehammer to Ali’s chest. He turned to the man he was with, adding: “This is the guy from the thrift store I was telling you about.”

That sentence made Ali pause. Were you telling him about the guy, or the store? he wanted to ask. “Hey,” he said instead, managing a weak smile of his own. He extended a hand to the guy Evan was with. “Is this your boyfriend? I’m Ali, nice to meet you.”

“Oh, I’m not—uh, we’re not—” the guy fumbled for words, rubbing the back of his neck and looking around the bar as he shook Ali’s hand. His palm was sweaty. “Xander.”

Evan seemed embarrassed by his response. “Xander TA’d one of my electives last term. Intro to Classics,” he said. He turned to Shadia, whose interest had been pulled from her phone, and extended his hand to her. “I’m Evan.”

Shadia shook it. “I’m Ali’s sister. Shadia, nice to meet you.” She shook Xander’s hand, too.

“I just have to say, you have, like, the best eye makeup I’ve seen in a while,” Evan said. Shadia beamed, lapping up the praise, as Evan turned back to Ali. “Well, it was nice running into you. Now you know I go to places other than your family’s restaurant.”

Ali chuckled, tucking a lock of curly hair behind his ear. “Good seeing you, too.”

And with that, Evan and Xander turned and walked away, heading towards a table at the other end of the bar. Ali watched Evan’s chubby hips sway as he walked, admiring the way his plump lower half jiggled in his skintight shorts.

“You like him!” Shadia whispered once they were out of earshot, a massive grin crossing her face. “You have a crush on him!”

“Shut up, I do not,” Ali lied, crossing his arms.

“You are such a liar,” Shadia said, still grinning. “It’s so obvious, you were practically drooling. I wish I could get a guy to look at me like that.”

Ali shook his head, “Okay, fine, maybe I do. But I obviously can’t do anything about it when I’m supposed to be planning my wedding.”

Shadia rolled her eyes. “Tell me you aren’t seriously considering going through with this marriage,” Shadia said. “You can’t marry this poor girl just to make Mom and Dad happy.”

Ali sighed, knowing his sister was right. They’d been engaged for six months and were still no closer to setting a date, much less starting any preparations, and he knew Fatima and her family were starting to get impatient.

He motioned to the bartender for another drink. Even if he wanted to make a move, it didn’t matter now. Ali had waited too long, and Evan was off the market.

XXL

Evan was starving. He fucking hated dieting, but he’d been putting on so much weight that Xander was starting to get on his case about eating better. Sure, he was up to a 2XL, but Evan reassured himself that it was only temporary as he walked into Eastern Flavours, mouth watering at the smell of seasoned meat and fry oil. He wasn’t even going to donate his XL stuff, since he’d be back into them in no time. Probably even smaller.

Evan grinned when he saw Ali at the cash register, somehow managing to make a polo shirt and chinos look sexy and cute at the same time. He always dressed so differently at the thrift store; it was funny to see how conservative and straight-laced he looked as a server, with his mop of curls tucked under a baseball cap.

“Hey, Evan,” Ali said. “The usual? Number 4 combo with chicken, fries, and a fountain drink?”

Evan was a little embarrassed by the fact that he had a usual order. But he was a regular customer, even if his recent attempt at weight loss had seen him cut back his visits. He’d been good all week, though, and he felt like he’d earned a reward. “Sounds perfect,” he said.

Ali rang him up, and a few moments later he arrived at Evan’s table with a basket of food that looked as incredible as it smelled. “I threw in some extra pita bread and fries,” Ali said. “Consider it part of our loyalty program.”

Evan beamed at him, although he felt a little guilty about overdoing it. Xander thought he was going for a smoothie, not a family-sized Mediterranean feast. Still, if he destroyed the evidence, no one would ever need to know….

As he ate, Evan watched Ali wipe down tables, discreetly ogling his tight little ass. But it wasn’t just the food or the scenery that Evan liked about this place. It had warmth. He appreciated seeing Ali’s parents in the kitchen, conversing as they cooked up incredible meals. Sometimes Ali’s brother came by, too. They seemed like such a nice family; Evan thought about the time he met Ali’s sister at the bar. He struggled to imagine a night out with his own sister. His family just wasn’t that close.

After his lunch was finished, Evan headed out, bundling up against the cold winter air. There used to be a time when winter clothes would disguise any body fat, but now they just made him look bigger. When he got back to his apartment, Xander was marking papers on the couch. “How was lunch?” he asked.

“Fine. Sure do love those smoothies,” he lied, as he made his way to the bathroom.

“You have hummus in your beard,” Xander called after him.

Evan was blushing as he closed the bathroom door behind him. He leaned against it, knowing he’d been caught red-handed. He sighed as he looked at himself in the mirror. He kept his beard short, barely longer than stubble, but it was long enough to betray his lunchtime indulgence.

He’d grown out his facial hair to try to mask how round his face was becoming. Bye bye, jawline, he thought, noticing his developing double chin and chubby cheeks. He turned on the shower and started pulling off his clothes. His chunky belly flopped out as he removed his shirt, taking a few seconds to stop jiggling. He dragged his fingers along the underside, trailing them over his love handles. He had so many stretch marks now, little red lines that gave away just how much he’d blown up, and how quickly the weight kept piling on. He lifted his belly with both hands, noticing the way it bulged through his fingers. He had more than a couple of handfuls of fat to grip; it was a full-blown gut. And a heavy one, at that.

He peeled off his pants and stood nearly naked, letting it all hang out. Looking at himself in just his underwear, he knew he wasn’t just chubby anymore; he had broken through into fat guy territory. He spun around and looked at himself side-on, at how far his gut hung out in front of him, and how far his butt stuck out behind him, and then turned and looked over his shoulder at his backside. He had to admit, 2XL undies fit him much better. He was a little pear-shaped, and he was no longer able to fit his ass into XL briefs. He could get them up, but they were too tight, constraining his package and leaving a wedge of crack exposed. He slid out of his underwear, watching the way his butt wobbled as he freed it from containment. His wide lower back dimpled above it.

He studied the prominent shelf of ass fat, the way his love handles looked even beefier from the back. He was carrying so much weight back there. He didn’t just look fat. He looked obese.

He frowned. He knew he was supposed to be trying to lose weight, but he honestly liked getting bigger. Feeling the pounds piling up on his body was hot. As he ran a hand along the curve of his blown-up butt, he felt himself starting to get hard.

Fuck it, he thought. No more stupid diets. I’m gonna eat what I want.

When he pulled on his sweats after the shower, he started going through his closet for XL clothes to give away.

3XL

The restaurant was bustling with customers, mostly college students looking for a snack after a night of hard drinking. They always did well on weekends, thanks to that demographic. Ali zoned out as he rang up orders and handed over foil-covered wraps to beefy frat guys and their glassy-eyed girlfriends.

Breaking up with Fatima had been the right thing to do. His family wasn’t thrilled, but it wasn’t fair to keep stringing her along. And she’d landed on her feet, anyway: just a few months after the breakup, she and Faisal announced their engagement. Shadia attributed it to the power of maternal scheming, but Ali wasn’t ashamed to admit that it was a far better match. Faisal had an MD after his name and a well-documented attraction to women, neither of which Ali could offer.

But being single had left him with plenty of time to reflect on his own life. He was lonely. Whenever he worked at the thrift store, he kept waiting for Evan to walk in with another bag of tight clothes and that perfect smile on his round face. But he never did.

Ali still saw him, though, and he was clearly still going through clothes like a mall on Black Friday: it seemed like every time Evan came by the restaurant to stuff his face with mind-boggling quantities of food, he looked bigger and fatter than he had the time before. Ali knew it was stupid, but a small part of him hoped that Evan was coming to see him. Ali wanted to flirt with him, to smile back and tell him how cute he was, but he always felt like a kid when he worked the cash register, caught by the watchful gaze of his parents.

And anyway, it just wasn’t in the stars. Evan had someone else.

At that moment, as if on cue, Evan appeared in the doorway. His svelte friends were completely dwarfed by him; he looked massively overnourished in a tank top and a pair of jeans. Ali wondered if they were supposed to be that form-fitting, or if they were just struggling against Evan’s juicy legs and generous, baby-making hips.

They were part of the bar crowd; the girls were dressed for a night out, with slinky dresses and high heels, and it was obvious from the volume of their conversation that they were drunk. Ali smiled as they reached the front of the line and he got a good look at Evan. He looked even bigger up close, his beefy breasts cleaving against the front of his tank top, which had started to slip up his gut to reveal a few stretch marks. That gut now hung out well in front of him, hiding his waistband from view. His arms looked huge, too—and not from muscle.

“Hey!” Evan said, flashing a drunken smile. “I’ll get a number three combo with fries, a shawarma wrap, a kebab, and an extra order of fries, large.”

“The ‘Fuck Xander Special’,” one of the girls said. They all laughed, even though Evan looked a little sheepish.

“You guys broke up?” Ali said. He didn’t want to pry, but that comment had sent his curiosity through the roof.

“Yup, Xander dumped me,” Evan said. He looked bashful, but there was something else in his expression. Was it… pride? “Pretty much said I was too fat for him.”

“What an asshole,” Ali said, meaning every word. “Well, this one’s on me.”

Evan beamed, a smile that was worth every penny. “Oh, and you guys wanted fries too?”

Ali hadn’t realized all that food was for Evan, but he tried not to let his surprise show as he added fries to the order.

He watched Evan laughing with his friends as they waited for their order. So Evan was single again… And now he was single, too… Ali handed Evan his order, and the young chub headed to the exit.

Ali’s mind was reeling, and he knew he was going to do something really stupid as he leaned into the door of the kitchen.

“Mama, can you watch the register for a minute?” Ali said.

“Your father needs me here, I—”

“Thanks! I’ll be right back!” Ali said. And then he raced through the front door and into the summer night.

Evan and his friends were halfway down the block, and they all turned when Ali called his name.

He felt a little awkward at the audience, but he pressed ahead, jogging over to Evan, who was already tearing into his first wrap. He looked particularly immense from behind, and Ali drank in his curves as he turned around. “I—I wanted to catch you before you left,” Ali said. He swallowed.

Evan looked a little confused. His friends were whispering to each other. “What’s up?” he asked. He gave a mischievous grin, maybe to defuse the awkwardness. “Did you decide to charge me after all?”

“I just wanted to say that… you’re a catch. And Xander didn’t deserve you. And that he should have treated you like the prize you are.” Ali cringed at the word vomit that was spilling out of him; he had waited so long to ask Evan out, and now he was making a complete ass of himself in front of Evan’s friends.

Evan looked around, seeming a little embarrassed. “Ali, you don’t have to say—”

Ali cut him off. He knew he was destroying the suave image he had spent so long cultivating, but he couldn’t let Evan get away again, even if that meant spilling his guts like a teenager with a schoolyard crush. “I know. I just—I really like you, Evan. I’ve liked you from the first time I saw you. And I know I’m being super weird right now, and you probably just want to walk away and never see me again, but…”

Evan laid a hand on Ali’s bony side, and Ali felt himself run out of words as Evan leaned towards him. And then Ali was leaning in, too, and he could smell the liquor and tahini on Evan’s breath, and see the city lights in his eyes, and feel Evan’s bulk, warm and vast, pressing against him, enveloping him. Their lips met.

Ali could barely hear the sound of Evan’s friends hooting in the background—his heart was racing, and he broke into a grin with Evan’s lips still pressed against his own. He felt like the luckiest man on Earth.

4XL

Evan managed to finish his ice cream cone by the time they reached the front door of the thrift store. Ali was carrying two large garbage bags, full of the 2- and 3XL clothes that Evan had outgrown.

He started sifting through the racks as Ali dropped off the donation, but he knew it would be slim pickings—well, maybe that wasn’t the best choice of words, but it would be next to impossible to find anything that fit him. Trying to find anything stylish in a 4XL was a huge pain in Evan’s huge ass.

But they weren’t just here for him. Ali was looking for maternity clothes for his sister-in-law—who also happened to be his ex-fiancée, but Evan didn’t judge. If anything, he related to Fatima more than ever. Pregnancy struggles sounded pretty familiar—round belly, swollen feet, nothing to wear, constantly sweaty… Welcome to my life, girl, Evan thought. At least her pregnancy would end when she had the baby; for Evan, feeling heavy and cumbersome, with a big belly and sensitive nipples, was a part of life. A very enjoyable part of life, for the most part. But he did wish that people would give him their seat on the bus. Ideally more than one seat.

And he wasn’t the only one who had put on some weight: Ali’s brother Faisal had clearly packed on a few pounds of sympathy weight, his tight shirts looking tighter than ever around his belly. A family of dishes, Evan thought, as he considered the two beautiful brothers.

Evan hadn’t been there when Ali came out to his parents, but apparently it went fine. Ali’s siblings dutifully backed him up, and Ali’s mother—the mastermind behind all that delicious food that had fuelled Evan’s transformation from cub to chub—made it clear that she would always stand by her son. Even Ali’s father was coming around; he was very interested to hear about Evan’s time as a high school soccer player (football, as he called it) and delighted to learn that they cheered for the same leagues. It may not have been what either of Ali’s parents expected, but no one could deny how much happier Ali seemed these days.

Evan was happy, too. Ali didn’t just tolerate his weight gain, he actively encouraged it, ordering for Evan at restaurants, loading up shopping carts with his favourite snacks, and constantly pushing him to exceed his limits. It was no surprise that his weight had soared far beyond 300 pounds, considering how thoroughly his boyfriend pampered him. He hadn’t just doubled his weight, he’d doubled it and kept on growing. It had been a while since he weighed himself, but considering the fact that 3XL clothes were starting to get constricting, he guessed that 350 pounds could be an underestimate. Was he proud to be two and a half times the weight he’d been when he started college? Fuck yeah he was.

Both men alternated between dominant and submissive. Sometimes, Ali would bring out an enormous plate of food, forcefully stuffing Evan’s face, ordering him to keep eating until he licked the plate clean and leaned back, stomach stretched to its limits and so bloated that it was firm beneath his thick layer of pudge. Other times, Evan bossed him around, ordering him to serve up plate after heavily-laden plate; Ali would be forbidden from touching himself until Evan had eaten every last bite, no matter how hard his erection cried out for attention. Evan enjoyed stretching out those meals, savouring every bite as Ali watched, rapt, practically aching with pleasure but powerless to relieve the tension. Evan would moan and groan as he filled his gigantic belly, while his naked boyfriend squirmed, desperate for release. Food and sex were so comingled in Evan’s mind that overeating made him horny, and sex invariably left him craving something sweet.

“This would look cute on you,” Ali said, snapping Evan away from his lustful daydream. Ali was holding up a narrow tank-top with pink and white horizontal stripes. Not only was it at least four sizes too small, that pattern would be sure to accentuate his astonishing girth. There was a time when that shirt would have been too big for him, but those days were long gone.

“That would be, like, a crop top on me,” Evan said. It might contain his moobs, but there was no way it would cover more than a few inches of his incredibly fat belly. Even a well-fitting shirt would be tested by his gut; it projected so far outwards that his underbelly would always be exposed, unless he tucked it in. “But sure, toss it in the cart.”

It was cheap, anyway, and growing his tits so fat that even they couldn’t fit into that shirt could be his next goal. A target to work towards. Plus, Ali went absolutely wild at the sight of Evan in undersized clothing. That’s why they made sure not to give all of his old stuff away.

“I was thinking we could go to the beach later,” Ali said, as he browsed the racks. “So I can slather you with sunscreen and show you off.”

Evan chuckled. “If you can find a pair of swim trunks or board shorts that can actually cover my ass, I’m in.”

Ali peered at Evan’s huge backside, biting his lip. “Well, maybe we could let it hang out just a little….”

5XL

Ali adjusted his tie as he surveyed the latest Eastern Flavours location. Business was good: things were running like a well-oiled machine, and the customers were happy. If this kept up, they might even be able to open a fourth location next year, in the next town over.

And the family business wasn’t the only thing expanding. Evan was blowing up like a balloon from the absurd quantities of food that Ali was pumping into him.

On that note, Ali piled up a plate with fries and headed to the office upstairs. Cool air hit him as soon as he walked in; Evan kept the air conditioner on bust to keep his generously-padded frame from completely overheating.

He was seated in a reinforced gaming chair, his mountainous bulk bearing down on it, taking up every free inch. His ample hips and voluminous love handles pressed into the sides; that chair had a 500 pound weight limit, but Ali was confident he could push Evan past its breaking point.

“Hey, cutie,” Ali said, as he approached his fiancé with yet another mountainous portion of food. “Thought you could use an afternoon snack.”

“You know I ate lunch an hour ago,” Evan said, arching an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I know,” Ali said. “What took me so long?”

Evan laughed as he helped himself to a heaping handful of fries. Paperwork spread out on the desk in front of him, and his dual monitors were full of spreadsheets and supply orders. He moaned as he ate, trailing a meaty hand across his boundless gut. “I was looking at tuxes for the wedding this morning,” he said, through a mouthful of fries. “Not exactly a lot of choice out there for a guy my size.”

They had decided to elope; neither of them wanted the drama of a big wedding, but a tropical vacation—with Evan lounging naked on the beach, sipping daiquiris—sounded like heaven. Still, they did want to bring along some formalwear, at least for the photos. If only to prove that Evan had once been able to fit himself into a 5X dress shirt.

Ali rubbed Evan’s shoulders; even those were encased in soft fat that gave way beneath his fingers. “Well, how’s business?” he asked. “Maybe we could go for something bespoke. You know, really freak out the tailor who has to take your measurements.”

“He’d be freaked out until he swiped our card,” Evan said. “Then we’d be his favourite customers. Business is good, by the way. Really good.”

Ali beamed. He’d finally made his parents proud: they could now say that he was an entrepreneur, growing the family business into a successful franchise with three locations across the city. And he couldn’t have done it without Evan, whose business degree was turning out to be a very valuable asset.

Ali bent down and kissed Evan’s chubby cheek; he turned and planted a kiss on Ali’s lips. 

“Oh, by the way, Fatima was asking if you have any old 2XL clothes. Apparently Faisal needs to size up again,” Ali said.

Evan arched an eyebrow. “Maybe you and Fatima have more in common than you thought,” he said. “There’s no way that’s just sympathy weight.”

Evan was right: Ali’s nephew was about to have his first birthday, and Faisal was looking even fatter than he had when his son was born. Ali considered the thought; the idea of Fatima deliberately fattening up his ex-jock brother was pretty funny, in his opinion, given how obsessed Faisal had been with “making gains” at the gym, and all the vanity behind his thirst trap Instagram photos. Now all his gains were made at the buffet table, steadily enlarging his gut.

“Good point,” Ali said. “Pretty soon he’s gonna make my dad look skinny.”

“I’ll have a look in my closet, but you know I never keep clothes for long. I might have a few things for him, though,” Evan said. He grabbed another handful of fries, washing it down with a swig of soda from the two-litre bottle on his desk. The watch Ali had proposed to him with looked tight around his chubby wrist, cutting into the fat between his plump forearm and his porky hand; they would need to get a few links added to it soon.

“I should probably get back to managing things downstairs and leave you to do the real work,” Ali said. 

“Bringing me fries is real work,” Evan said. He slipped a hand under his monster gut and gave it a shake, sending ripples across his epic torso. “This thing is—uuuurp—a full-time job.” Evan flushed; all that jiggling had coaxed out an impressive burp.

Seeing the way Evan’s fat belly wobbled and quivered made Ali realize just how tight his t-shirt had gotten. It was probably time to drop off some more clothes at the thrift store where Ali used to work. He nudged the plate of fries closer to Evan, smiling at the thought. “Well, I should get on that.”

Evan grinned at him. That perfect smile still made Ali’s stomach flutter. “Oh, you should definitely get on that.”

The thought of climbing all over Evan’s blubber-bound body got Ali’s heart racing. He really couldn’t wait to get on that.

[eruden-writes]

Room & Board - Part 13 (Vampire x Reader)

Anon submitted this prompt: For the prompt submissions a vampire that feels guilty after feeding/attacking someone so they leave obscenely valuable ancient artifacts as payment/an apology?

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The three of you decide to meet up at a Penny's diner - a quaint eatery, dressed up in greens and yellows, that never quite shook the 'corporate franchise' air - for dinner before heading to the theater. Tabaeus and you take the bus together, planning to carpool with Ewan later.

Inside the Penny's, it is pleasantly warm and only slightly busy, with plenty of empty tables between patrons. The scent of their trademark pies wafts through the air, along with the syrup and sweetness of their 24-hour breakfast specials.

From one of the waiting benches, Ewan stands up upon seeing you. Immediately, he's all smiles, in spite of Tabaeus's appearance. Awkwardly, you wave to him, knowing the outfit Tabaeus chose for you is... uncharacteristic.

Your little party of three is led to a corner booth near the back and, after you slip in on one side, you find yourself flanked by your companions. Which only intensifies the stares.

All through the bus ride and into the restaurant, you felt eyes following you and Tabaeus. Perhaps Tabaeus a little more than you, considering their state of dress.

They wore an above-the-knee pink-white-brown plaid skirt with dark brown stockings and a sleeveless brown turtleneck halter, over which Tabaeus wore an oversized soft milk-chocolate brown cardigan. The clothes and shoes - chunky brown platform mary janes - are totally foreign to you. Vaguely, you wonder if Tabaeus has been shopping when you were at work or if they'd figured out the trap of Online Shopping.

Either way, you think they look adorable and well put-together. Especially with the little brown beret, pink tie, and retro round sunglasses with brown-gold frames.

You can't say the same for yourself. Tabaeus fished out that bat onesie from wherever it had been stashed.

It turns out the vampire was very well acquainted with the idea of karma.

"So, what's with the get-up?" Ewan laughs, turning to you after the waitstaff has taken your drink orders.

Even though he's dressed casually, he still puts you to shame. The dark denim vest, with lighter colored sleeves roughly sewn on to make it a jacket, and tee-shirt are ones you've seen before. You even helped to sew some of the patches on the jacket. Though his jeans appear new and without holes, even if his sneakers are the same-old same-old.

Slumping further into the seat, you press your hands to your face. The wings of the blasted pajamas catches on the table's edge and you huff, "Tabaeus chose it."

"I do not know why you are complaining," Tabaeus chuckles and, when you look at them, they give you a vicious, teasing smile. They reach over, pinching your cheek with cold their cold fingers. "You look cute enough to eat."

Moodily, you swat Tabaeus's hand away, your own lips puckering further into a pout. You had hoped they'd dress you up snazzily or sexily. Something that would make it so both you and Tabaeus could taunt and tease Ewan. You should have known better, in retrospect. Why would they help you look tantalizing, just to dangle you in front of their potential natural enemy?

"Well, we should un-cute-ify you enough so no one eats you, hm?" Ewan leans over to you, nearly touching his forehead to yours. Before you can answer, he has shrugs off his jacket and offers it to you.

"My hero," you dryly say as you grin and accept the jacket. It takes you a moment to struggle into the jacket, folding the sewn-to-sleeve wings into the arms of the coat. The scent of Ewan and pine envelops you, his sinfully warm body heat still lingering in the fabric.

You hope this will keep people from staring at the pajamas. Though you doubt it.

From the corner of your eye, you see Tabaeus roll their eyes in an exaggerated fashion. Childishly, you stuck your tongue out at them, having beat their little revenge plot. But Ewan isn't done. From his pocket, he fishes out a collar. He holds it out to you, an eyebrow cocked and a goading, wolfish smile on his lips.

You smooth the hood of the pajamas over the collar of the jacket, before reaching for the dog collar. The snort of laughter you make isn't stifled as you ask, "Why do you have a dog collar?"

If you're going to dress ridiculously, might as well go all out, you decide. Without thinking of the potential implications, you slip the collar on, fastening it at a comfortable setting. Like the jacket, it weighs warmly against you.

Before Ewan can respond, Tabaeus sniffs loudly. "I told you, he's a dog."

They don't even look up from the menu they're suddenly so interested in. Amusement in Ewan stills, his gaze jerking to Tabaeus. Danger prickles across your skin and suddenly the air is heavy, like an angry predator stalked into the room. "What's that supposed to mean?"

If Ewan had fur, you have no doubt it'd be bristling in an agitated fashion. You think you can see his lips twitch, as if wanting to bare his teeth in a snarl.

Tabaeus's red eyes lazily side up to Ewan and they flash him a pointed and pointy smile. "Just that you are a rapscallion. A scoundrel. Need I go on?"

While you hoped Tabaeus could have acted civil for the whole night, what little they gave you was probably all they could do. Other than vampires and werewolves being at each other's throats - and your suspicion that Tabaeus is jealous of Ewan - you also try to account for the out-of-character vibes. Those uncharacteristic mannerisms have something to do with the missing pieces of the Tabaeus puzzle, you think.

The air between the two of them is sparking and agitated now, though. You briefly consider spilling the beans to Ewan, before remembering the other patrons around you. It would probably be better to be discreet. Even if these two aren't being as careful.

Pulling out your phone, you text Ewan, explaining Tabaeus had told you of their alleged lycanthropy. Ewan's phone chimes and, once he pulls it from his pocket, he shoots you a curious look before reading the text in full.

If there was a question to the claim, it dissipated as green eyes shot angrily to Tabaeus. A quiet growl - one that you felt more than heard - started deep in Ewan's chest. Under his breath, you hear him mutter, "Blood-sucking asswipe."

A pretty mild insult, you thought, especially as Tabaeus simply smiles and shrugs carelessly.

"Look, I don't want you two to fight," you sigh as you put your phone away. Your hands land on the table, feeling the icy coldness of the laminated top. "The last couple days have been heavy and I just want to have fun."

Your words instantly draw Ewan's attention. He shifts toward you a bit, and you can't help but wonder if he's already imagining all sorts of awful things happening from sharing a roof with Tabaeus. Blood meals and enthrallment and who-knew-what-else. Ewan's hand brushes yours on the table and you're torn between comfort and dread. "Heavy how?"

"It's... Ugh, just a lot." You sigh and lean your head against the table, not wanting to put Tabaeus in a difficult spot. How Ewan would take the news of the journal and what it detailed could only be imagined. It likely wouldn't help foster any friendship between vampire and werewolf.

Besides, the memory of those words makes your head hurt. Like an icepick lodged into your grey matter.

To your surprise, Tabaeus fields the question with a solemn tone. "They've been reading a journal from a box of vampire hunting supplies I provided them."

You glance up at Tabaeus just as Ewan utters a surprised, "What?"

The chatter of the diner suddenly feels louder, pressing in on you. The clink of plates, the swish of water pouring into glasses, the muffled delight of people getting their food. It all feels far off. Perhaps it is, considering this conversation almost feels like an entire world away.

"It's a long story." Now, it's Tabaeus's turn to look conflicted. They refuse to look up at Ewan or you and turn one of the pages of the menu. You can tell Tabaeus isn't looking at the words or pictures.

"Tabaeus has amnesia. Maybe." Buoyed by Tabaeus's willingness to let Ewan into the situation, you prop yourself up on your elbows on the table. Cradling your face in your hands, you sigh before going on. "And the journal detailed experiments done to them in the 1880s by some people who caught them."

"Ah," Ewan says, obviously struggling to find something to say. He blinks, his fingers fiddling with the edge of his own menu. "Okay."

"Just okay?" Your attention swings to him, your eyebrows raised. You expected more from him, especially since his werewolf nature was confirmed. The moment he heard of Tabaeus's alleged amnesia or the vampire hunting book or just the heavy atmosphere, you thought Ewan would be fervent in trying to separate you from Tabaeus.

"They're lucky to still be alive, if they got caught at one point." Ewan shrugs, his eyebrows lowering and lips contorting with conflicting feelings. For the first time, you wonder about his connection to other lycans. Was he turned? Or did he grow up with a werewolf family? A pack? Your lips thin, considering what sort of horrors might befall any supernatural being living in this world, populated by unforgiving humans.

He runs a hand through his messy curls, his nose wrinkling a bit. "As for the memory thing, I've heard of any long-lived people having a hard time with memories. The human brain isn't built for it."

A thoughtful sort of silence blankets the table. The fact Ewan didn't jump on shitting on Tabaeus resonates at the back of your head, your thoughts more focused on what he said.

It's true, isn't it? Even if a vampire was a creature of the night, they started as a human. Didn't they? And wasn't the same true for werewolves, as well? Even if it was a trait bred into their being, there was a point when werewolves were just human.

As you consider this almost obvious point of view, Tabaeus cuts in from your other side. "Strangely poignant. For a mutt."

"Thank you. I do try." Ewan flashes Tabaeus a smile and inclines his head in a gracious nod. You're thankful he's not rising to Tabaeus's bait this time. The vampire frowns, obviously hoping to bother the other.

"Anyway," you cut in, before yet another round of bickering can be ignited. You tap your own menu against the table, flipping it open. "What are you going to order?"

"They got a good plant-based selection here." Eagerness takes over Ewan's expression as he points out to the particular section he's talking about. The print is done up in greens, to highlight the 'plant' centric theming. His finger slides down to the fourth option, which has a photo of a tasty looking burger beside it. "Was going to go for the Inconceivable Burger. Has a tofu-based aioli on it that slaps."

"Well, that is a shocker," muses Tabaeus as they, too, lean over your menu. Their tone tells you they aren't going to be so easily dissuaded from their shit-stirring. You frown at the vampire, knocking your foot gently against their ankle. They pointedly ignore your attempt to get their attention and your displeased expression, which annoys you further.

"What?" Ewan tilts his head slightly to Tabaeus, his eyebrows raised.

Tabaeus meets Ewan's confused look with a smile and synthetically sweet tone. "Most mongrels want it rare and bloody."

"Yeah, well, I'm vegan." Ewan doesn't miss a beat, rolling his eyes. Once more, you're thankful he's not rising to Tabaeus's taunts, even if he sounds annoyed now. "Get off my ass about it."

"You wish I was on your ass." A pout puckers at Tabaeus's lips, further frustrated by the lack of response from Ewan.

"I can't tell if you two are fighting or flirting." You snort and ignore the look they both shoot your way. Though the intensity and heat of their looks make your insides squirm. Instead, you focus on the menu before you, trying to steer the conversation to a safer topic. "The plant-based chicken tenders sound good."

When the waitstaff comes around to take orders, you're not surprised Tabaeus orders a plant-based meal, as well. You have a feeling they don't like the idea of being left out of the pattern.

Once the waiter bustles off to the kitchen, you look back over to Ewan. "So, what movie are we seeing?"

It's been awhile since you've gone to see a movie, if you're being honest. You don't even know what's playing in theaters at the moment. Streaming services have spoiled you, when you were able to afford them.

"There's a few I kinda want to see, but I'm really up for anything," Ewan shrugs, scratching at the back of his neck.

It's obvious he doesn't want to lock the three of you into any movie in particular. Still, he can at least give you a starting point as to what he's hoping for. "What're you interested in?"

"Well, the Unexpected Human Problem looked good for a sci-fi. Heard it involves time travel, too." Ewan pulls out his cellphone, pulling up the movie listings for the nearby theater. You peer over to his screen as he sets it on the table, without realizing just how close you're getting to him. "There's also Desperation's Summit, a romantic drama involving a troll and human lady. Honestly, seeing the trailers, she acts pretty awful. I'm just curious how they redeem her."

Brief memories of the unskippable trailers playing before your TubeYou viewings skims through your thoughts. With an agreeing nod, you laugh, "Yeah, she seemed pretty bad, honestly."

"Oh! And there's Plague Butcher, which takes place in Victorian England and it's about a butcher using plague corpses for their meat." Excitedly, he points to another option. The poster for it depicts an old-timey butcher's storefront done up to make it look like the meats hanging in the window form a screaming, human face. "Ends up with a zombie apocalypse sort of vibe, which I thought was interesti-"

"Ah, there it is." On the other side of the table, Tabaeus cuts in again. Ewan and you look over to the vampire, who is leaning their chin in their hand, elbow braced on the table. Tension threads through your shoulder as you frown at them. That disdainful tone is starting to aggravate you.

There's a knowing, sly grin on their lips at your questioning gazes. "Horror. Is it not a common trope of people who seek to get close to whom-so-ever they invited out?"

With a frown, you're about to tell Tabaeus to lay off. Ewan had mentioned two other genres, before talking about the last one. Obviously, he wasn't using anything to get closer to you.

"That's the plan." Ewan surprises you with his words. Your attention flickers to him, finding a shameless grin on his lips as he leans back into his seat. Both of his arms extend along the back of the booth, looping you under his arm while also showing off his arm span. There's a taunting edge to his words as he says, "No worries, I'll sit between you both. Optimal position."

It doesn't escape your knowledge that Ewan's plan literally puts him between yourself and Tabaeus. However, you're not sure if he means to be an obstacle or is just being nice to include the vampire.

Tabaeus snorts, their tone taking on a disgusted lilt. "I am not going to cling to you of all people."

"I don't know. You dressed our dear friend in adorable footie jammers, while you got all gussied up." Ewan winks down at you, which makes you hunch your shoulders. The fluttery sensations in your stomach jump as the werewolf gives your shoulders a squeeze. Thankfully, he doesn't stare at you longer as he lobs a question back at Tabaeus, "Didn't you want attention?"

"Not from you," Tabaeus spits out, their nose wrinkling further. From under the table, you feel their foot brush against your leg. Heat flares up your spine, understanding the unspoken words in Tabaeus's actions.

Unaware of the footsie beneath the table, Ewan's grin is easy, toothy, and roguish. You feel his eyes slip from Tabaeus to you as he speaks, "Aw, that's a pity, because I find both of you ravishing."

Outrage paints itself across Tabaeus's features. However, you're fairly certain they'd be blushing if they had any blood in them. You are feeling the heat yourself, if you're being honest.

Before Tabaeus lobs another insult Ewan's way, you sigh and hum in a singsong voice, "Fighting or flirting?"

You regret the taunt as soon as it leaves your lips. Tabaeus's gaze shoots to you, their red eyes intense, especially as they catch onto Ewan's arm still lazily around your shoulders.

"Why are you so intent on asserting we're flirting?" Their eyes narrow and you still as that pout on their lips shifts into a grin. A sharp light suddenly shines in their gaze. They lean closer to you, dropping their voice to a soft decibel that sends tingling goosebumps along your body. "If I did not know better, I would think you wanted us to be flirting."

Ewan shifts, peering down at you while his arm remains firmly in place. A bit of teasing surprise filters into his voice. "Are they trying to get a two-for-one deal?"

"Oh, I did not think of that." Tabaeus's words are smooth, tinged with a spark of curiosity as their gaze stays glued to your face.

Shocked, your mouth has dropped open, but you have no words to blather out. Your mouth snaps shut, the heat on your cheeks becoming too warm. A little frantically, you look from Tabaeus to Ewan. You're offered little solace from the werewolf, though. His green eyes are just as glinty as Tabaeus's, with a broad crooked grin on his lips.

In your chest, your heart pounds. Something akin to fear edges into your thoughts, though it's more pleasant, if no less anxiety-inducing.

Briefly, you consider pressing your hands to your face, hiding the growing blush. That would only amuse the two further, though. Which, again, makes that warm embarrassment sift through your body.

You just couldn't win. Especially while Tabaeus and Ewan look at you like that.

"Nevermind, go back to fighting each other," you mumble, shoving both of them away and scooting smack in the middle of them again. Albeit, this time, with a safe distance between them and you.

You hope the space will help to disperse the images your imagination is suddenly feeding you. Alas, it doesn't. But you still feel better with both of them being further away. Any closer, and they might sense the inappropriateness bleeding from your thoughts.

"No, no, I'm curious now, myself." Ewan leaned close again, his body heat licking up the side of your body, despite the denim jacket acting as a barrier. His voice dips low, a playful growl faintly tinging the edges, "Are you hoping to be sandwiched between us, in more ways than one?"

For once, Tabaeus doesn't snipe at Ewan. Miserably, you realize why. The two of them have found common ground in teasing you.

Of course, that would be what they bonded over.

"Alright, alright. Enough you two." Despite the obvious pink on your cheeks, you wave the two of them away. Thankfully, your eye catches on the waiter bringing out your meals. "Behave. Food's here."

As the waiter comes up to the table, laying out the meals, you can feel Ewan and Tabaeus exchange a look. A delighted smug air shoots between the two.

With steely determination, you keep your eyes on the waiter, shaking your head when asked if anything else was needed. Your companions mirror your need for anything else. A sigh of relief almost escapes you as they turn and leave. However, you are immediately aware of Ewan and Tabaeus.

They're both smiling at you, unspoken plots swimming in the air around them. If you focus, you wonder if you could sus out what is going on in both of their heads. However, you really don't want to know. You're willing to bet it would just make your mortifying flush intensify.

You shoot them both dirty looks as you unwrap your utensils from its napkin. "Don't make me regret tonight, you two."

"I would never!" Tabaeus presses a long-fingered hand to their chest, their scandalized expression comical.

Ewan reaches for his burger and, faintly, you realize his fingernails are long, well-kept, and sharp. Have they always been that way? He chuckles so deeply it makes your stomach quiver. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Valiantly, you try to ignore them and dig into your meal, as they share yet another look. From the corner of your eye, you see both of them grin at each other again.

A truce has been made.

At your expense.

[frogtanii]

confusion.

that’s all daichi felt as he stumbled from yachi’s office after he finished his interview, the dim light coming from the sunset washing the hallway in a layer of color.

he wasn’t sure what to expect at first when he’d been called in, the previous members downright refusing to share what they’d discussed, but he had heard whispers that whatever you talked about was... bad.

you’d disappeared into your room after your interview, refusing to let anyone but atsumu in and even then, atsumu came out of his time with you looking worse for wear. neither of you joined the rather tense game night and it was clear the others were worried, but daichi just couldn’t understand why.

why were all the other house members (besides osamu) suddenly so invested in you and your well-being? contrary to popular belief, daichi was not dumb — he knew this was a long time coming, more of the people who he thought were his friends abandoning him to join you.

well maybe not just you, but they seemed to spend an awful lot of time and energy on the woman who’d destroyed meiko’s life. he just couldn’t make sense of it.

he was even more thrown when sugawara, his best friend, joined the trend and stopped talking to him, supporting you to the fullest and avoiding him at every turn. it felt wrong, somehow, that koushi was no longer by his side but he didn’t know what to do about it.

they clearly had a difference in beliefs — sugawara was hard pressed to believe that meiko was some kind of horrible person and daichi... well daichi loved her. he knew he did.

these thoughts overwhelmed him to the point where he was unable to sleep, tossing and turning while his mind raced to unravel the mystery of what was going on in the house.

“fuck,” daichi sighed as he glanced over at his alarm clock with bleary eyes. it read 2:57a and he let out a loud groan. there was no way he’d be able to sleep like this. he wracked his brain for something, anything, to help and he came up with a memory of akaashi telling him that a warm mug of chamomile would send anyone right to sleep.

letting out another sigh, daichi stood to his feet and trudged out of his room and towards the kitchen, ready to finally get some aid but as he approached, the sound of soft voices hit his ears.

on the couch sat you and koushi; you were wearing an oversized shirt (that must have belonged to bokuto) and colorful pajama pants (his guess was that they were kenma’s) and koushi was wearing old sweats and a hoodie. he looked shaken up about something, his eyes rimmed red as he muttered something to you, whatever was said prompting you to reach out and pull him into a hug.

daichi felt like he was intruding and severely out of place, his mind screaming at him to just turn around and go back to his room but he knew if he did, he’d never sleep, his mind full of even more questions than he had before.

so instead, he chose to clear his throat loudly as he walked further into the room, the sound frightening the both of you and causing you to let go of one another.

you shot daichi an uneasy, tired smile as you stood, before patting koushi on the shoulder and leaving the room. sugawara watched you go the entire time with metaphorical stars in his eyes and his heart on his sleeve. daichi repressed the urge to roll his eyes, instead turning toward the kitchen to prepare himself some tea.

to his surprise, sugawara didn’t leave the room. he actually made his way to the kitchen and sat at the counter, watching daichi fill up the kettle and place it on the stove.

the silence wasn’t awkward or oppressive but it was heavy, the unasked questions hanging over them in the air. it was daichi who chose to break it.

“so, what was that about?” he winced at the state of his voice, cracky and weak but he powered through, chancing a glance at his old friend.

sugawara looked tired but also defeated, like he was simultaneously expecting that question and wishing that it hadn’t been asked. “i was apologizing.”

daichi knew he was staring incredulously now but he couldn’t help it. suga was apologizing? for what? what could he possibly apologize for? when he voiced this, koushi scoffed and turned away.

“are you kidding? we have so much to apologize for. we all treated her like shit.”

“but doesn’t she deserve that? she hurt meiko deeply!”

“nobody deserves what we did! nobody! god, daichi, yn has done so much for me and—“

“like what, hm? what exactly has she done for you?”

“i... i can’t tell you that.”

“can’t or won’t?”

the room fell into silence, a stark contrast to the shouting that had been taking place just moments before. both men were warring with themselves and suga was the one to give in.

“meiko assaulted me, okay? is that what you wanted to hear?” koushi’s voice sounded so weak, so broken, and daichi saw red.

“...what?” the words were uttered low and disbelieving as daichi clenched his hands into fists to keep them from quivering with rage.

suga ran a hand through his sliver locks before shaking his head. “i really don’t want to talk about this with you, daichi.”

“but you’ll talk about it with her.”

“fuck off, that’s not fair and you know it,” koushi spat, pushing himself to his feet as he was readying himself to leave. he looked so hurt that daichi couldn’t stop himself from grabbing his arm gently.

“i know... i’m sorry,” he spoke quietly, his brown eyes shining with unshed tears and sincerity. he just wanted suga to open up to him, for them to go back to the way they used to be but he was different now. they both were.

koushi shook his head softly and gingerly removed himself from daichi’s hold. “i’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” he whispered before turning and disappearing into the darkness of the hallway.

daichi was alone. again. he sniffed and wiped his eyes to get rid of any residual tears as he moved back to the kitchen to finish making his tea. not that it would do him any good—the information he was just given would definitely keep him up until morning.

he was having a difficult time processing what had just occurred and yet, he knew he was in the wrong on multiple occasions. he’d abandoned his best friend in his time of need and sided with his attacker. daichi couldn’t even claim that he was suga’s friend anymore with what he’d done. no, he’d earn back his place. he just needed to figure out how to make things right.

whatever it takes.

℗ poker face

whatever it takes

series masterlist

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

an - daichi arc start! skdjjd anw this chapter is a lil wack??? but i hope it at least gets the point across lmfaoo oh n daisuga are working out their issues! s not as cut n dry as the other friendships were but i think this way adds more ~flavor~ hehe don’t forget to feed me!! <:333

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @katsulovee • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @syndellwins • @jooleuuh • @loubells • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saikishairclip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 325: Deku VS the Outside of U.A. ~Conclusion~

Previously on BnHA: Ochako was all ��dear bloodthirsty mob, this kid you see standing before you has fought harder than anyone and put his life on the line to protect you all, so please chill the fuck out, jesus christ. like, putting aside that he’s humanity’s best hope and so it’s very much in your best interests to let him rest and recover someplace safe so that he can keep fighting for us, are y’all seriously going to turn away an injured and exhausted child in front of his sobbing mother?? seriously?? come on now.” I’m paraphrasing here but that’s basically how it went down. Anyway so then the mob was all, “...” and Deku collapsed to his knees in tears, and Gigantic Fox Lady and Kouta ran over to give him a hug but then the chapter ended.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “FINE, YOU CAN HUG HIM”, which, was that so hard?? The U.A. Clown Mob is all “come to think of it, we’ve kind of been taking the heroes for granted this entire time, maybe we should be less passive in the future. anyway so Deku if it’s not too much to ask, can you please save everyone and fix everything.” Deku is all “I sure can, and by the way I forgive you for swarming around all menacingly two minutes ago and trying to deny me basic shelter and stuff.” Ectoplasm is all, “hey Todogang get a load of this. [walks in a circle].” Hawks is all, “that’s literally the greatest thing I’ve ever seen.” Rat Principal is all, “anyway so that’s what your students did today, hope you’re enjoying your new *~*ROBOT LEG*~*, Aizawa.” Aizawa is all “[lots of exposition about Kurogiri and for some reason, Toga, while being all brooding and sexy].” All Might is all “[standing here right outside of U.A. doing absolutely nothing and being foreboding AF]” and that immediately sucked away all of the warm fuzzy feelings from the hugs, goddammit.

each new week has become a waiting game of “when will Deku finally get to take a bath so people will actually be willing to go near him and give him the hugs he deserves.” the stakes have never been so compelling. I’ve almost forgotten about AFO entirely

lmaoooooo

me: for the love of god will someone please give Deku a hug before I die of old age

Mineta: YOU GOT IT!! --

Iida: [SWIFTLY CUTS HIM OFF] NOT YOU

fucking losing it at Mineta’s crying face. he really wanted to hug him. I legit feel bad but this is also the funniest thing I have seen all week, omg

somehow Kouta, who last week was only a hand’s breadth away from touching Deku’s head, is now twenty miles away from him in this new chapter

can I make a Loki reference here. is this recap a good place to insert a joke about someone using a TVA time-rewinding device to fuck with my poor boy Kouta over here. well anyway there it is

AND NOW HE’S BACK ALL OF A SUDDEN OMG

(ETA: since when is he “niichan” omg?? can’t handle this cuteness.)

BUT THEY’RE STILL NOT HUGGING HIM FFFFKFFFFF. WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO. WHO DO I HAVE TO BRIBE AND/OR BLACKMAIL

OH NO KOUTA IS CRYING THAT’S IT I’M DONE FOR

“when I heard that lady I knew that I had to go, but then stop again within inches of actually touching you because you smell like week-old rotten onions.” listen Kouta, I’m not saying I don’t get it, but you all can’t keep doing this to me. it’s the way you guys keep teasing it. like, if you’re gonna hug him, hug him. don’t just stand there with your arms held rigidly out in front of you like a molded action figure

OH MY GOSH BUT HE SAID THE THING

KOUTA SWOOPING IN AT THE LAST MINUTE TO TAKE ALL THE CREDIT FOR FIXING DEKU LIKE THAT ONE KID IN THE GROUP PROJECT WHO DOES ABSOLUTELY NOTHING BUT STILL TAGS HIS NAME ONTO THE REPORT ANYWAY, WHAT A KNAVE

GASP

(  ´͈ ᗨ `͈ )

SHE PICKED HIM UP LIKE A LITTLE BABY OMG?? she just leaned right over and lifted this child like he was a small animal. like a lil baby futon that she was about to hang up to dry. oh my god

-- HEY WHAT

(: well that’s extremely fucked up. though sadly not too surprising given what we just saw these past couple chapters

incidentally, I hope that anyone who was legitimately defending the civilians’ perspective earlier takes note here of how quickly that line of thinking -- “we’re just trying to keep our families safe” and all that-- can lead to straight up bigotry. if you’re willing to deny a child shelter and protection simply because he’s not YOUR child, and because you’ve decided based on Internet rumors (no real-world parallels there, I’m sure) that he might present a threat, it’s really not that much further of a leap to discriminating against entire groups of people simply because you perceive those groups as being dangerous. I’m sure the people who turned Gigantic Fox Lady away also told themselves afterwards that they did it to protect their families. “better safe than sorry.” “she’ll be fine, someone will take her in, but as for us, we can’t afford to take that risk.” people can come up with all kinds of justifications for treating other people as less than human, and the really scary thing about it is how fucking easy it is

one last quick side note, which is that Horikoshi does a great job here of showing how scapegoating works, given that AFO is the one who’s really to blame and who presents the actual threat, and yet Deku is the one who ultimately winds up being the target of the mob’s fear and outrage despite him being as much of a victim as they are. gotta love that irony, which unfortunately plays out far too often in the real world as well.

anyway I’ll get off my soapbox now, sorry about that. let us continue

YES, FINALLY OH MY GOD!!!!

AND THAT’S THE STORY OF HOW GIGANTIC FOX LADY BECAME THE GREATEST HERO. PACK IT ALL UP, WE’RE DONE HERE KIDS

holy shit. the real MVP right there. thanks for getting it done champ

jesus christ I have had it up to here with these people

literally the bar is set so low at this point that I’ll go ahead and take it. helping him because it offers them a tactical advantage is at least one step up from not helping him at all

“WHY NOT SHIKETSU” MOTHERFUCKER I SWEAR TO GOD

-- thank you!!

okay this one guy with the antennae hair is having himself a character development speedrun here

-- okay, but this part?? fucking this part, right here??

can we repeat that again?? the part where this guy acknowledges that the problems of hero society were caused not just by said heroes, but also by said society?? the part where he acknowledges that they treated the heroes like celebrities who were putting on a show for them?? the part where he acknowledges that when push came to shove, the vast majority of those heroes, when faced with a situation that offered no reward, were nonetheless willing to put their lives on the line to protect the very same people who then turned around and blamed them rather than thanking them?? are the civilians of BnHA even allowed to have actual deep thoughts about this stuff. holy shit

bro!!

ANTENNAE HAIR GUY SHOVING KOUTA AND GIGANTIC FOX LADY OUT OF THE WAY TO SLAP HIS NAME ONTO THE END CREDITS AS EXECUTIVE PRODUCER. CONGRATULATIONS SON YOU FIGURED OUT THE CORE PHILOSOPHICAL QUESTION AT THE VERY HEART OF THE MANGA. WAY TO GO BUD

meanwhile, on today’s episode of “one more chapter to go till the big volume cliffhanger, how else can I drag things out let’s see”

it’s a panel. of people’s feet. just a bunch of normal feet. with sneakers and shit

this All Might shirt guy is getting more screentime in this arc than 90% of the class 1-A kids

I guess I’m supposed to feel sorry for this dude now that he’s all “if we let you stay here do you promise to somehow magically fix every single problem that we are now currently facing?” those are some ridiculously exacting standards my dude. come on now

KACCHAN SIGHTING

thank fuck I’m not the only one who’s thoroughly unimpressed by absolutely all of this lol. I feel better now. meanwhile Iida and Kouda and Kiri are ready to run over there and hug them all. you guys are way too forgiving. damn you and your pure hearts

anyway so Deku’s like “yeah, definitely”

(ETA: almost forgot to comment on the “I’m no longer alone” part – he basically corrects the guy and says “sorry, but you’ll need to direct that question towards all of us, not just me, because moving forward we’re a team.” good stuff.)

you know what though, all joking aside... fuck yeah. because perfect victory, right. the strongest guys don’t settle for anything less. so I guess Deku has pretty exacting standards himself

also can you all just take a look at this fucking kid who’s got so much light in his eyes now that I’m gonna need eclipse goggles. hot damn. “you’re welcome” says All Might Shirt Guy as he is frantically interviewed by several local news networks asking him how he daringly managed to save Deku all by himself. “well I guess I’ve just never been the kind of guy who can sit back and let a bunch of rabble-rousers blame a little kid for all of humanity’s problems. someone had to step in and take action, you know?”

oH MY GOD THE SCENE IS FINALLY ENDING

don’t let the door hit you on your way out All Might Shirt Guy

but meanwhile, sudden Tododrama action??

oh shit

there are honestly so many ways in which Ochako’s very moving speech could have wildly backfired that I genuinely have no clue where this is headed lol. how exciting!!

so now Horikoshi is once again stalling for time with random filler panels, but this one is 10x better than the shoes lol omg

(1) was Ectoplasm’s jacket always this oversized. (2) did you guys know that if you go back to chapter 319 you can see that Horikoshi gave us a sneak peak at Enji’s Sad Detective disguise and I in fact made a joke about it in the 319 recap not realizing it was actually the stone cold truth. (3) did Shouto deliberately speed up out of impatience because Hawks was walking so fucking slow and he couldn’t take it any longer. (4) and what, I ask you, is up with these dramatic speedlines. so many mysteries here. what a masterpiece

everyone is acting all shocked about something ahh what’s going on

wait what

what the heck. did they just loop around behind everyone. what was the point of that lol. “anyway, so this is what they look like from the back” well okay, thanks for that Ectoplasm

(ETA: so it seems like they were actually hanging out someplace else away from the crowd this whole time, I guess? here I thought they had more faith in Enji’s disguise. I guess Shouto and Hawks don’t particularly want to attract this crowd’s attention themselves right now either, though.)

I am so fucking confused lmao

speaking of All Might WHERE THE FUCK IS HE lol. but yes, good, OFA brings everyone together, and Hawks is very deeply moved about this out of the blue all of a sudden. you know how it is

aw heck yeah now this is another filler panel I can get behind

Mineta really wants that hug, good lord. I genuinely love this actually. Mineta if you could just stay little and cute and keep crying about how much you love your classmates in a non-gross way for the rest of the series I would be so appreciative. you’re doing great

IIDA IS HOLDING DEKU’S HAND THIS IS NOT A DRILL. ONE TIME WASN’T ENOUGH FOR MY MAN HE’S ADDICTED NOW

what did I tell you. Kiri wants to get all of the mob’s autographs now. Kiri you’re a peach

Shouji having a conversation with another mutant type is a very nice touch! we really need to get to his backstory soon. I feel like that casual remark from GFL earlier was kind of hinting at more to come

is this the first time we’ve ever seen the Yaoyorictionary in action?? never forget that Viz tried to call it the “Yaoyorozu Reference Book” because they hate fun

last but not least, KAMIBAKU IS BACK ON THE MENU, FUCK YEAH. Kaminari trying to spice things up and introduce a little bit of controversy by smacking Kacchan on the back of the head for god knows what. I will be deeply disappointed after this if I can’t find at least one person unironically declaring that KamiBaku is now toxic and abusive

lfkdlWLWK TODODRAMA??

oh my god. Shouto’s face. Enji’s face. the back to “oyaji” again. the blunt, not-taking-no-for-an-answer, “I don’t know how much louder the universe can scream at you that doing things alone is not it, so hopefully you got the point” directness of it. fffdlkslj I’m so ready for this Horikoshi please don’t fuck it up my expectations are so high

HOLY FUCK

I SCROLLED DOWN AND HE WAS ALL “( ❛‿❛)” AND I JUST WASN’T FUCKING EXPECTING THAT OKAY. JESUS CHRIST. GIVE ME A SEC

lol okay moment over and now Enji’s pulling his hat down all dramatically like a world-weary Cowboy

OH MY GOD WERE YOU FACETIMING??

AHHHHHHHHH

(ETA: not to put Iida down or anything, but it’s kind of strange that Aizawa is all “the class rep sure did great” when Ochako is the one that was giving that whole big speech for like twenty minutes just now lol.)

(ETA 2: “thank god Iida stepped in just in the nick of time to keep Mineta from hugging Deku.” sorry Mineta I really do like you lately but it’s still low-hanging fruit lol.)

HE LOOKS SO SAD??! HE LOOKS LIKE HEARTBREAK ITSELF??! I AM BESOUGHT WITH THE URGE TO REACH INTO MY SCREEN AND PULL HIM INTO THE SAFETY OF MY ARMS??? MY GOD, AND I THOUGHT DEKU NEEDED HUGS

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH okay I was gonna just hold down the letter H for a full minute and count it out loud but within about ten seconds I realized I needed to chill lol

-- but then again NO, I DON’T NEED TO CHILL, I HAVE ZERO CHILL, ACTUALLY, BECAUSE IT’S AIZAWA WITH A ROBOT LEG AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

COMPLETE WITH ROBOT TOES FOR THAT EXTRA TOUCH OF AUTHENTICITY!! I LIKE HOW HORIKOSHI PUT ALL THIS EXTRA “!!!” EMPHASIS AROUND IT IN CASE WE COULD SOMEHOW POSSIBLY FAIL TO TAKE NOTICE. “REMEMBER, EVERYONE?” SAYS HORIKOSHI HELPFULLY. “REMEMBER THAT TIME AIZAWA CHOPPED OFF HIS OWN LEG?” oh wow now that you mention it we somehow forgot all about that. like who do you take us for

OH NO NOT THE SAD BOYFRIEND ANGST THAT I WAS SECRETLY LOOKING FORWARD TO WITH GLEE

well at least he’s not M.I.A. or back with the villains again like I thought he might be. still, that’s gotta be brutal to know your friend is in there somewhere, but to not be able to reach him again no matter how hard you try. that’s the kind of angst that pays off in final battles just when you most expect it. such is my hope, at any rate

what’s this now??

trying to decide if this is Horikoshi’s way of saying don’t worry about that, or his way of saying definitely worry about that lol

anyway so Aizawa is out here being all irresponsibly handsome once again. when is someone going to do something about him

here for Sexy Robot Leg Eyepatch Aizawa clenching his fists and making speeches about revenge. pretty sure we’re all here for that

WELL, WELL, WELL

IT’S ABOUT FUCKING TIME

I’M VERY GLAD YOU’RE ALIVE AND SEEMINGLY WELL, THOUGH!

BUT WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK THOUGH, ALL MIGHT

ffff. bracing myself for that cliffhanger next week. you’d better not touch one hair on this man’s head Horikoshi. I’m watching you 

[poisonedapples]

Patton’s Home For Traumatized Kids - Chapter Five

Bad Memories Don’t Erase

Chapter Summary: Roman tags along with Logan and Virgil to hang out at their friend’s house.

First Chapter Previous Chapter Story Masterlist

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of past abuse, stealing, and one inappropriate joke

Word Count: 4,008

Taglist: @shade-romeo, @grayson-22, @pixelated-pineapple, @acrobaticcatfeline, @astrozei, @edupunkn00b, @princey-7258, @eternalmoonlight19, @remy-the-lemon-berry, @look-ma-im-on-tv, @mariniacipher, @bigwendymonster, @nonbinary-octopus

Notes: This chapter’s a little short, but the next one is gonna be really long, so hopefully that makes up for it

On Sunday the next day, Patton finally took Roman to buy his gym clothes. Roman was trying to hide a goofy smile while sitting in the back seat, desperate to not get his hopes up while also ecstatic his plan was working so far. He was going to have Patton stay in the car while Roman shopped for clothes! This had never worked on his dad before!

By the time Patton finally parked the car in the parking lot of the store, Roman’s chest felt weighted from his anxiety, waiting to see Patton’s final verdict. So long as he didn’t change his mind now, then Roman was in the clear. He hoped to be in the clear.

“Alright, kiddo,” Roman’s heart stopped as Patton pulled out his wallet and gave him some money. “Forty dollars should be more than enough for some pairs of gym pants and shirts. Give me back all the change when you come back, okay?”

“I will! Promise!” Roman wanted to jump for joy. It was working!

“Text me when you’re checking out so you don’t surprise me, and if you see something else you might want, just text me before you buy it so I know. Tell me if you have any issues, okay?”

“Okay!”

Patton smiled. “Go on then, kiddo.”

Roman practically leaped out the door to skip his way to the front entrance of the clothing store, two twenty dollar bills crumbled in his pocket. He got away with it! No parents staring him down while he changed outfits!

Roman walked into the store and tried to hide the skip in his step. With no parents to watch him, he could buy what he actually wanted to wear, no tight pants and scoop neck shirts. No, Roman wanted to look like his real goal. His goal of being a blob of cloth that vaguely resembled a human.

Granted, he’d mostly gotten there. His aunt replaced all of his wardrobe, so his current clothes were a lot more comfortable to wear even if they weren’t very fashionable. Mostly bright colored t-shirts and pants, maybe some shorts if they were able to reach down far enough. Maybe once he was more comfortable with himself he could actually test out more styles, but for now, oversized clothes were all he could handle.

Roman’s walk sped up slightly when his eyes landed on the men’s athletic section. He had to be quick with this, he didn’t want Patton getting impatient and coming in to check on him. Roman looked through the shorts and shirt sizes, easily finding a size up for a couple shirts while heavily struggling on the shorts. Roman groaned. It was always the shorts that caused the issue, they were always too high up. What if he was sitting down and the pant leg rode up too far? No, Roman refused to get something like that willingly.

Roman took all the athletic shorts that could fit him and held them up in front of his legs. Most of them only made it to his lower thigh, but he managed to find two shorts that made it to right below his knee. Roman smiled and bounced on his toes, grabbed his items and rushed to find a dressing room. Once he did, he rushed into the first empty area he saw and locked the door. The mirrors on the walls and gaps in the door made it hard for him to change comfortably, so instead Roman tried to press himself against the very corner of the room when he was changing.

Between the six shirts and two pants Roman found, he was pretty happy with most of his choices. Thankfully, the long shorts looked fine, so Roman hung them up on a hook with a sign over it saying I’m buying this! and considered it a success. However, when it got time to look at the shirts, only three of them were good enough for purchase. The white one he grabbed was practically see-through, and the other two had a scratchy inside material that Roman couldn’t stand, so they got put on the reject hook while the other three passed the test. 

For a rushed shopping visit, Roman was pretty pleased with his choices. Two shorts might not be enough for five days worth of classes, but maybe Roman could keep one pair in his locker until it started to stink. Which might be a little gross, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Roman exited the dressing room and put his rejected shirts on a rack outside, carrying his other items to the checkout area. Before he got in line, he looked at all the price tags and added them up in his head best he could. The shirts were about six dollars each, and the shorts were a little over five after tax. Which means, adding up the extra cents, he’d have to pay twenty nine dollars for the clothes in total. Considering Patton gave him forty dollars, this was plenty.

Roman hesitated for a second. He stuffed his hand into his pocket to feel the money in the palm of his hand while he thought about his options. If he told Patton the truth, Roman would give him eleven dollars and there would be no issues. Patton might let him do this again next time they go shopping, too. But also…Roman had no backup plan. He was stuck with Patton with nowhere to go if things went wrong.

His aunt told him that Roman could always go back to her house if a guardian was abusing him, and he had every intention to take her up on that offer the second the opportunity arose. But even if Roman walked to her house on foot, he had no money for food during that trip. She lived so far away from him now, there was no way to get to safety without a dollar to his name. But if he stole some from Patton, then Roman could have a serious issue on his hands.

Roman slowly walked up to the check out area and handed the teenage worker the clothes. As she scanned all the items with a satisfying beep, Roman felt himself getting antsy. There’s no guarantee Patton will let me do this again. I’ve already gotten away with so much, and the more time I spend around him, the more danger I’m in. But if Patton notices I stole from him, he could be furious. Is there even a right answer here?

“Twenty nine dollars and thirty two cents.” The cashier said cheerfully. Roman handed her the money and she put it in the register, then handed Roman a bunch of coins, two five dollar bills, and a one dollar. She smiled. “Would you like a receipt?”

“Uh, no thank you.”

When the receipt printed, the cashier tore it out and threw it in the trash behind her. “Have a nice day.”

“You too.” Roman squeaked, rushing away from the register to stare at the money. Apparently they ran out of ten dollar bills, because the money was split perfectly for taking without it being obvious. Roman considered this a sign to take his chance. He put a five dollar bill and a quarter in his left pocket and shoved the rest in his right. It wasn’t much, but he could build it up. This was only the beginning.

Roman walked out of the store and tried to act normal instead of anxious. Worst case scenario, he’d say he forgot to bring out the rest and give Patton the other bills. Giving away the quarter also would be too obvious, but he could get away with stealing that at least. When he made it to Patton's car, Roman opened the back seat and tossed his clothes next to him.

“Hey, kiddo!” Patton greeted, “Got any extra cash to give me?”

“Uh, yeah, here.” Roman dug into his right pocket to grab half the money and handed it to him. Patton put the coins in his pocket and put the two bills in his wallet. He didn’t seem to consider how much Roman gave him, instead he started backing out of the driveway and got distracted while reversing. Roman let out a quiet sigh of relief.

He felt the five dollars still stored in his pocket. He got away with it. For now.

***

“We’re home!” Patton announced as he and Roman stepped inside. Logan and Virgil were both lying on the couch, and Logan perked up from his spot.

“Wonderful. We wanted to ask both of you a question.” Logan said.

Patton seemed intrigued. “What question?”

“Can we go to Janus’ house, Pat?” Virgil asked.

“Oh, of course, kiddos! Do you know when you might be back?”

Virgil thought about it. “Probably at six before dinner.”

“Perfect! Just text me if that changes so I don’t worry, okay?”

“We will.” Logan reassured, “And Roman, would you like to come with us?”

Roman tilted his head to the side. “Me? I don’t even know who Janice is.”

Virgil sunk into the couch more. “Friend of ours. Has a snake, talks a lot about philosophy and books. Acts like a tired underaged wine aunt.”

“Right, well, still. Isn’t it a little strange for me to tag along to a stranger's house?” Roman pointed out.

“Janus wouldn’t mind, I’m sure.” Logan said. “Of course, you don’t have to, we simply figured you would like the invitation so you’re not the only one left out.”

Roman’s eyes widened when Logan said that. Wait, shit, if Logan and Virgil are going to this girl’s house, then Roman will be here. Alone. With Patton. Until six in the afternoon.

Roman’s mood change was almost instant. “Well then, perhaps I should go! Make new friends and establish bonds, or whatever!”

Virgil smirked. “Sweet. It’s a short walk, just a block away. Just let us grab our shoes and we can head out.”

“I’ll tell Janus we’ll be bringing a third party.”

Roman let out a breath of relief. As Virgil and Logan grabbed whatever they needed, Roman set his new bag of clothes in his room next to his backpack. He’d have to remember to put some boxers in there before tomorrow morning, too.

Roman felt the five dollars in his pocket again. He took the money and hid it deep in his backpack in a hidden pocket he hoped wasn’t too easy to find. Satisfied with that for now, Roman stepped back outside of his room and waited for the others.

Once everyone was situated, Virgil called out to let Patton know they were leaving the house and then closed the door. Logan and Virgil did most of the talking as they walked while Roman just listened, following behind them and letting the two lead the way.

“Oh, and Roman,” Logan suddenly said during a point of silence, “Another one of our friends may also show up later at Janus’ house. He said he might be coming, so we’ll see.”

Roman shrugged. “Sounds fine to me.”

“Alright.”

No one said anything else after that on the walk. After a while, Virgil and Logan stopped in front of a house and started walking up the driveway to the front door. As Virgil knocked on the door, Roman stood awkwardly off to the side until someone answered.

It wasn’t long before the door swung open, showing a teenage kid with a large birthmark under his left eye. He rested his elbow on the top of the black and yellow cane next to him and smirked. Was he the brother, perhaps?

“I’ve been expecting you.” He said menacingly.

“‘Sup, fucker.” Virgil greeted.

“Hello, Janus.”

Wait, what? Against his better judgment, Roman forced himself to stand in front of Logan to face Janus. “Wait, your name is Janice?” He asked.

Janus put his hand on his face. “Janus. It’s Janus. J-a-n-u-s, not the old lady name Janice.”

Roman felt his face grow hot. “…Oh. Well, uh…”

Janus rolled his eyes and held the door open wider. “Just come inside.”

Virgil was the first to step in, with Logan following after while Roman hesitated. He made an awful first impression, maybe he should just walk around the block for a while instead-

“Come on, my arm is tired.” Janus coaxed. Roman felt too awkward to walk away, so he instead sucked it up and stepped inside the house with everyone else.

The house was quite nice. The walls were painted dark and the carpet was red, but it looked nice in a Victorian era kind of way. On the living room coffee table were piles of fabric and a sewing machine, seemingly making something that looked like a suit. Janus took the cane he was holding and threw it onto the couch. Well, apparently it was just a part of the outfit.

Virgil motioned to all the fabric on the table. “Fuck are you making now, dude?”

“I’m making the refined villain look of my dreams.”

“Nice. When do you think you’ll finish it?”

“Possibly tomorrow. I’ll start on it again after school.”

“Do you make your own clothes?” Roman asked, hoping to distract himself from his previous embarrassment.

Janus smiled slightly. “Less clothes, more costumes. Mostly for myself, but sometimes I make them for the high school’s theater when I’m feeling generous.”

“Oh, that sounds fun!”

“Wanna see Janus’ costume closet?” Virgil asked.

Roman shrugged. “If he wants me to.”

“Oh yeah, just talk about me like I’m not here.” Janus rolled his eyes and motioned for everyone to follow him. He had a downstairs family room with a closet off to the side. Once everyone was downstairs, Janus opened it and let Roman look inside.

“…Woah.” Roman looked at all the costumes, astonished and full of wonder. A lot of them were very extravagant, like they were specifically designed for a dramatic person, so Roman felt a calling toward them. He took a few of them off their hangers to look at; roaring twenties inspired suits and a black dresses with fancy gold finishes. Roman ran his hand on the fabric like they were fancy relics.

“They are quite high-quality.” Logan said, “Costume design is certainly one of Janus’ greatest skills.”

“I can see that.” Roman whispered.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Don’t make his ego bigger than it already is.”

“Oh no, please do continue, I’m designed to be the center of attention.” Janus smirked.

Roman laughed and put the costumes back on the rack. It seemed like him and Janus were pretty similar in personality, just on opposite ends of the spectrum. Both dramatic artists, except one likes to add that with tons of sarcasm. He could see them getting along quite easily.

“Also, Janus,” Virgil said while looking at his phone, “Rat bastard says he’s coming over. He’ll be here in ten.”

“Ugh, fine. I was getting used to the silence.” Janus sighed.

“…Who’s rat bastard?” Roman asked.

“Friend of ours.” Virgil replied, “You’ll meet him in a bit. He’s a rat bastard. Smells vaguely of cheese.”

“…Attractive.”

“You get used to it.” Janus shrugged. He then smirked at Roman like he got an idea. “Would you like to see my snake?”

Roman’s eyes lit up. “Yes!”

Janus led them all upstairs to his bedroom, Roman following last in the line so he could keep Janus’ door cracked open. As he stepped inside, he noticed a very large cage on the wall to his right. It was very long with lots of wood decorations spread across the container, with a fluorescent lightbulb above it. Roman looked around in the enclosure to try and spot the snake.

Before he could find it, Janus opened the top and stuck his hand in the cage. The snake climbed up his hand onto his arm, and as Janus stuck him out for Roman to see, Roman jumped back.

Janus rolled his eyes. “He’s a corn snake, he’s not known for hurting people.”

Roman still looked at it from a distance. The snake was large enough that Janus had to hold him with both hands, as well as being a mesmerizing yellow color. Roman never had a friend with a pet snake before. “…What’s his name?”

“Lawrence.”

“Nerd.” Virgil called out.

Logan smiled. “I think it is a wonderful name. Lawrence Kohlberg developed the theory on moral development, the very basis for ethical behavior.”

“Nerds.”

“You’re very mature, Virgil.”

Roman ignored them. “I think he’s cool. How old is he?”

“About five. I’ve had him for a while now.”

A buzz came from Virgil’s phone, making him check it and read the message. “Rat bastard says he’s outside your door.” He announced.

Janus didn’t seem rushed. “He can get in on his own.”

Roman laughed, and Janus set Lawrence back in his enclosure so he could bask underneath the heat lamp. Roman still watched his movements from inside the cage. “I wish I had a pet.”

“Patton would get you a dog in seconds if you asked.” Logan suggested.

Roman shook his head. “It’s fine, I won’t ask.” He didn’t really know what kind of pet he even wanted, and besides, it’s not like he’d be able to keep it once he leaves Patton’s house. There was no point.

Suddenly, a loud stomping came from the stairs outside Janus’ bedroom. Roman yelped and ran to hide behind Janus in the corner of the room, but the others didn’t react. 

Roman sputtered. “What the-”

Before Roman could finish, a large bang came as someone kicked open the door and let it smack into the wall.

“I’m back by unpopular demand!”

“Hello, Remus.”

Roman completely froze up at the sound of that name. He turned around to look at the person that just busted down Janus’ bedroom door, a kid with messy hair and peach fuzz for a mustache, ripped jeans in the summer with a cast boot on his right foot.

Roman felt himself choke on air as he processed what was in front of him.

“Slugs are goopy like jello! So jello is made of slugs, duh!”

“Remus, that’s gross! No one would make food out of slugs!”

“What’s up, fuckers!” Remus announced. “I’m back from the pits of hell! Also known as the emergency room.”

Roman didn’t say anything, only stared at him in disbelief. Remus’ voice was a lot different now. He’d hit puberty, so the pitch had dropped a lot from what Roman was used to. A tuft of his hair was white, also. Roman couldn’t tell if it was dye or a condition.

That piece of hair and Remus’ mustache were the only things that made them both look apart now.

“What actually happened?” Logan asked. “You never told us specifics.”

“I broke my foot sucking too much-”

“Remus.” Janus warned.

“Fine, fine. I tripped trying to run up some steps and my fall didn’t look badass at all. Don’t tell people that though. If anyone asks, I broke it running from the cops.”

Janus nodded and smirked. “Noted.”

“We brought a third foster brother, also.” Virgil noted. Roman stopped breathing.

“Oh, really? Shit, I fuckin missed everything!” Roman looked in the corner trying to avoid Remus noticing him, but it was never that easy. “Why hello, welcome to our humble- …Oh, fuck.”

Remus tilted his head to make eye contact with Roman, and the surprise on Remus’ face was something Roman would never forget. He seemed genuinely baffled, like nothing in the world would have prepared him for what he saw. Roman wanted to cry.

I wanted to leave behind these people.

“…Roman?” Remus finally said, “Dude, holy fuck, I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“Wait,” Virgil staggered, “You know each other already?”

“He’s my fucking cousin!” Remus exclaimed. “Come on, look at us, we’re only a little related but we look like twins!”

Logan turned to Roman. “Is this true?”

Roman could feel the tears ready to burst. His throat was scratchy, but he tried to talk anyway. “…I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Come on, Princey, don’t be shy!” Remus teased. “We used to be best friends, let everyone believe we were twins until our moms called our shit out. Absolute bastard children- …wait. Wait a fucking second.”

“What is it?” Janus asked.

Remus turned to Virgil and Logan with a shocked and confused face. “…You said he’s your foster brother?”

Logan nodded. “That is correct.”

Remus turned to Roman, seemingly at a loss for words. “…Dude, the fuck? What happened?”

Roman looked at the floor, gripping onto his arm so hard it’d be a miracle if there weren’t marks later. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I mean, I know I haven’t seen you since your mom fucked off to Neverland, but what happened to your dad? He’s still alive and shit isn’t he? The hell happened?”

“I said I don’t want to fucking talk about it!” Roman seethed, grinding his teeth together as he practically growled out that sentence.

Virgil flinched violently. “Roman-”

“Whatever!” Roman pushed Remus off to the side and kicked the door fully open, storming his way down the stairs despite the sounds of people yelling for him to come back. Roman stomped out the front door and took a sprint for it down the block, not caring if he had to be alone with Patton, so long as he wasn’t here.

“I bet you would eat a slug!”

“No I wouldn’t! Liar!”

“Boys, boys!” Roman’s mother laughed, crouching down to meet their eye level from their place sitting in the grass. “No eating slugs. Be nice to the bugs or we’ll go back inside.”

“Yeah, Remus!”

Remus huffed. “I’m not doing anything!”

“Not yet!”

Roman’s mother laughed again. “I’m going to help Uncle André with dinner. But I better not hear a fight, okay?”

“Okay!” Roman promised, watching as his mom went back inside his uncle’s house into the kitchen. Roman and Remus continued to play in the grass by looking at bugs and telling stories to each other, making Roman smile more than he has in a long time. He always loved going to Remus’ house. His dad never came with them, so he and his mom were always happier.

“How come we never go to your house?” Remus eventually asked after a few minutes of playing. Roman stuck his tongue out.

“‘Cause our house is tiny and the backyard isn’t as cool.”

“Still! When you come over, you never bring Uncle Theo!”

“Good!” Roman defended, “Dad’s boring so he doesn't getta come!”

“I like him! He’s fun and nice and always brings chocolate!”

“He’s awful!” Roman covered his mouth after he blurted that out. Remus gave him a look.

“He’s not awful!”

Roman looked over to the glass sliding door. His mom was in there, he could see her, but she couldn’t hear him. Maybe he could get away with it. He could tell Remus a secret and his mom would never find out.

Roman hesitantly took his hands away from his mouth. His tone grew to be a lot softer. “…He is, though.”

Remus tilted his head to the side like a dog. “What makes him awful?”

“…Promise not to tell anyone?”

Remus leaned in closer. “Uh huh!”

“No one at all, ever?”

“Triple quadruple promise!”

Roman looked back at his mom. She wasn’t paying attention to him, seemingly talking to his uncle and pouring juice into cups. Roman hesitated for a moment. “…My dad-”

“Boys! Dinner’s ready!” Roman’s mom called out, making Roman jump almost a foot in the air. Both of them got off of the grass to walk inside, but before they did, Remus turned to Roman again.

“Your dad what?”

“…Nevermind.” He missed his chance. Remus would never find out, and Roman never told anyone for another five years.

Roman ran faster down the street at the memory, fighting back the tears in his eyes. It was fine. Roman was fine.

He never wanted to talk to Remus again.

[itsallyscorner]

For Tom x

Pairing: Tom Holland x singer!reader

Summary: You have a surprise for Tom:)

Warnings: none, just pure teeth rotting Fluff:)

A/n: Hello my loves! This is literally a rewrite because I accidentally deleted the original version of this story on Tumblr RIGHT before I was gonna post it😭 Anyway here it is, I hope you all like it! Ally x

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

look at my sunshine🥺

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

Your giggles filled the hallway as you lead Tom into your makeshift studio. Since you were quarantining with him and his mates in their shared home in London, you were miles away from your crew and studio. Which, yes, made it difficult to record an entire album on your own—but it did give you the creative freedom to do whatever you pleased for the album.

The boys had their own creative outlets; for example putting together a puzzle or having a movie marathon. While you found those activities enjoyable, the inner singer in you couldn’t stop thinking of beats or coming up with lyrics in your head. You needed the studio—you needed to bring those beats and lyrics to life before you could forget them. So with the help of the houses’ tech lord himself, Harry made it possible for you to have your own little studio in the spare guest room of the house. There, you spent endless days writing and recording things like harmonies and building melodies. Little did you know that this would lead to the creation of your sixth album. Now a couple months later, your latest album is currently in its final stages and would soon be released to the world.

Tom adoringly watched your figure, which was drowned in one of his oversized jumpers, excitedly skip towards the guest room. As soon as you were both inside, you rushed to close the door and eagerly pushed him to sit on the edge of the bed.

“What have you been up to, lovey?” He teasingly asks you. He knew you were up to something, he just didn’t know if it were bad or good.

Your figure was bent over the desk where your laptop was located. Turning over your shoulder you tell him, “It’s nothing bad, I promise!” You’re met with an amused grin on his blush pink lips.

Gathering your laptop into your arms, you move to sit beside Tom on the bed. He curiously leans forward, trying to get a glance at what’s on your screen.

“Nuh uh, it’s a surprise, Thomas.” You playfully scold him and gently push his face away from your laptop. He responds with a pout against your palm before pressing a kiss onto your skin. You continue to click around on your laptop, looking through your documents for the specific file.

Meanwhile, Tom shuffles further up the bed, getting comfortable. He notices the new distance between you and him and decides that he’s unsatisfied with the additional inches. He choses to snake his arms around your waist and lifts you up, happily placing you on the empty and lonely space on his lap. Laying down on his back, he takes a moment to admire the way you look in his jumper. It was a few sizes bigger than you and stopped right above your knees. The jumper may have looked good on him, but it looked absolutely perfect on you.

“You look so cute in my jumper.” He hums, hands lazily rubbing up and down your thighs. Your nose scrunches up as you lightly slap his chest; your silent way of saying “shut up” whenever Tom would say something that made you blush.

You finally find the file you were looking for and place your laptop on your lap. You nervously glance at your screen, biting down on your lip out of habit.

“Ok, so I did something.” You started. Tom squints his eyes at you, “That sounds like the beginning of a really bad something.”

You huff, “I just told you it wasn’t anything bad! Do you want your surprise or not?”

Tom chuckles and grasps onto your thighs, “Yes—yes, sorry, keep going.”

“So you know how I’ve already finished my album?” You question him. Tom nods, staring up at you while you sit on his thighs.

“Well, I wrote a few more songs that were supposed to be on the album. But I don’t know, I felt a bit greedy and decided to keep them for myself.” You explain. Tom raises a brow at you, “Baby, you don’t have to feel guilty about keeping songs to yourself. If you don’t want to share them, you don’t have to.”

“No, it’s just that, they’re about you.” You pause, staring down at your fingers that fiddled together. “Like I wrote them specifically for you to listen to. I wanted to include them on the album, but it just didn’t feel right to share something that was meant only for you.”

You place your laptop on the bed and turn it so the screen is facing Tom.

“So...as a solution, I made you your own album.” You were too busy avoiding his stare, that you missed the twinkle in Tom’s coffee colored orbs. He carefully sits up, his arms around you getting tighter, as he pulls you closer into his chest. Tom ducks his head down to yours, nudging your nose with his to get you to look at him. When your eyes finally meet, the lopsided grin on his features grows wider.

“You made me my own album?”

“Yeah.” You shyly answer. Tom softly coos at you, cupping your face and pressing a chaste kiss onto both of your cheeks.

“You are the most precious thing in the world, sunshine, I swear.” He squishes your cheeks together and began to cover your face with butterfly like kisses. Sweet laughs erupt from you, the sounds making Tom’s heart swell.

You stuff your face in the space between his neck and shoulder, using it as a place to hide from his lips. Instead, Tom opts to lay his kisses along the side of your face, your neck, and your shoulder.

“Lemme kiss you!” He whines. You chuckle at him, finally moving away from his neck. His attention darts towards your lips more than once, prompting you to lean forward and connect them with his. Tom’s lips were soft against yours, like clouds or cushiony pillows. The kiss was short and sweet; though it didn’t prevent you from feeling the adoration and passion he felt for you in that moment. In fact, he felt it all the time, but right now, his love for you was coursing through his veins.

He finally pulls away, leaving the taste of him linger in your mouth. “Can I have a listen?” He motions his head towards your laptop beside him.

“Go ahead.” Tom’s arms unravel from your waist, the area they once occupied left cold and yearning for his warmth. He uses one of his elbows to hold himself up and the other to control the touchpad. His eyes scan the file.

For Tom x

someone like u

test drive

worst behavior

main thing

He glances at you, “I start with ‘someone like u’, right?” You reply with a quiet “mhm”.

Tom clicks on the link. The opening notes of ‘someone like u’ begin to play followed by your angelic voice. You hear him release a content sigh, making a small smile to form on your lips. His arms make their way around you again, this time holding you closer against him. He rests his head on your chest and sneakily presses a kiss onto your neck. You fondly run a hand through his curly hair and rest your chin on the top of his head, listening to the songs you’ve made for him.

The two of you listen through the album in one go with no stops. You found joy in Tom’s reactions towards every song. Sometimes he would make little comments or sounds of shock whenever he heard you hit a certain note. He nodded along to the beats of ‘test drive’ and ‘worst behavior’, dancing around in his seat and making you join him. This time, you didn’t miss the twinkle in his eyes when he listened closely to the lyrics. ‘Main thing’ got him the most, leaving him with a goofy-lovesick grin plastered onto his face.

When ‘main thing’ came to a close, the room became silent, leaving Tom enough time to process the four songs you wrote about him and the meanings behind them.

You were the first to speak, “So did you like it?” You scan his face looking for any signs of dislike.

Tom’s eyes widen, “Are you kidding me? That was bloody fantastic—that was the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard! I’m obsessed with it, oh my god!” He expressed, arms moving around as he spoke.

His face was radiating with happiness, “You are the most talented and loving woman in the world. And I honestly don’t know what I did to deserve you or your love—but I just love you so fucking much.”

“I love you so fucking much too, you dork.” You laugh, pecking his lips.

“No, but seriously, thank you so much. I know you’re used to writing songs, but the fact that you actually took the time to write songs about me means a lot. They’re just a bunch of songs, but they mean the world to me and I cherish each and every one of them.” He admits, taking one of your hands and placing it onto his heart. Your palm feels the faint rhythm of his heart beating against his chest.

You tilt your head at him, mirroring the smile on his face, “I’ll always write songs about you. You somehow manage to inspire them anyway.”

Tom smirks, “Well I am Tom Holland.” You snort and roll your eyes at his humble brag.

“You’re still a dork, Tommy.” You comment.

Tom shrugs, “I’m a special dork because I’m your dork. Therefore making me superior to the other existing dorks—there’s a difference, darling.”

“And where did you come up with this hypothesis, Mr. Holland?” You question him, playing along with his antics.

“It’s Tom’s Theory.” He answers with feign seriousness. You burst out laughing, “Oh is it?”

Tom leans down to your laptop and restarts his album. “Yes, and now Tom’s Theory, believes that we should listen to the album again until I learn all the lyrics to every single song.” He proclaims.

“Babe, you don’t have to—” Tom stops you, “I’m dead serious.”

It was going to be a long night.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

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