#finally cleaning this blog up since it's been a year

[bokunoheros]

TAGS/WARNINGS: gn reader but afab with descriptions of feminine clothing (also katsuki calls you princess like once or twice idk), alcohol consumption, everyone is 24+, shouto is bisexual asf, katsuki and reader are married, reader did not go pro, some mlm action (todobaku content scattered throughout bc i am a god and can make them do whatever i want!!), shouto cucks a little bit, also shouto is a nasty closet perv lol, overstimulation, inappropriate quirk usage, oral (reader receiving), spit roasting, backshots, idk what else i could possibly mention other than this is nothing but filth GENRE: SMUTTTT MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI 18+ ONLY SUMMARY: after a party celebrating their top spot as heroes, shoto gets a little too drunk and has to stay the night with you and your husband, dynamight. shenanigans ensue. a new boyfriend is acquired? WORD COUNT: one million billion (jk it’s 10.4K) 🦊’s A/N: god help me. shoutout XENOVA for the celebration party idea. uhm pt2 maybe if this blows up idk. also this was not proofread bc i’m running out of time and it’s too long. and uhm its not exactly manga-canon bc i think deku deserves to be the no.1 hero idgaf. horikoshi when i catch you. // anyway enjoy lol

     it was mina’s idea to hold the party originally, and you who offered to host, since you were the one dating the number two pro hero, dynamight, and had enough space to accompany the old class 1-A. it took a little persuasion from your end to get katsuki on board, but he eventually agreed, despite his bitching about how you two needed to whip this place into shape before anyone dared to set foot into your shared home. 

     this, of course, meant more work for you in the end since your husband was so terribly busy with work. ….that’s not to say he wasn’t helpful, though; of course not! whenever he wasn’t bone tired from whatever villain attack or whatever there was that day, he was more than happy to help you pick up (well…… that’s how the phrase goes, at least; bakugou himself didn’t mind cleaning with you and helping out around the house, per se, it’s just that he always came off as aggressive in the everything that he did) and really start getting the house ready for the upcoming party this weekend. 

     when it was all said and done, everything had been dusted and all the floors swept and vacuumed; the pillows on the living room couch had been fluffed and the kitchen counters were wiped down and had been bleached in preparation for the day you were about to spend in the kitchen cooking for this party. at least katsuki was there to help you with this the most out of all the other chores — and it was really the most time consuming one, too, so his help here was greater than he realized. him being an actually good cook just so happened to be an extra, heaven-sent bonus. 

     despite this, you had actually gone out of your way to prepare three main courses: (cold) soba, katsudon, and then something on the spicier side for your husband for the top three heroes you were celebrating tonight, along with some appetizers and snacks, of course.

     finally, the day of the party was upon you, and you finished running your last couple of errands (namely stocking up on alcohol) right as ashido and the rest of the girls arrived in a limo. …..guess yaomomo went all out, huh? well, it's not like you could exactly blame her—it had been years since you had All been together due to everyone being busy with their own work, even now there were a few who couldn't make it, like satou and koji, or mezou and fumikage, due to circumstances out of their control. it was a shame really, you would have loved to have some of rikido’s sweets since he was such a good baker. ah, must not have been meant to be then. no use in dwelling on it. especially when everyone was beginning to pull up!

     “eeee, my pookie! how have you been!? how’s life with baku—no, dynamight?!” mina eagerly squeals as she runs towards you, arms extended and ready to grip you in a crushing hug. 

     “ackgh–! too tight, too tight–!” you choke out as she squeezes you half to death. 

     “oh, sorry!” she apologizes, letting go and backing up slightly as the rest of the old 1-A girls come up behind her and the limo driver drives back to yaoyorozu’s manor until it was time to come pick the ladies back up. “now. spill all the tea,” she says, giving you a serious look all of a sudden, and you feel a smile stretch across your face. it’s nice to know she’s just the same as she was in high school.

     “well—why don’t you come in and see for yourself?” you gesture to your shared home, to which the girls gawked at in awe. it wasn’t an estate or anything like yaomomo’s place of residence, but it was certainly large enough to accompany everyone attending and then some.

     leading them inside, you open the already unlocked door (katsuki was busy in the kitchen aggressively finishing up the fruit platters and charcuterie boards, making sure they were up to his standards before serving them) and led them all in.

     “kats, ‘m home! n’ all the girls are here!” you shout loud enough from him to hear you from the foyer. 

     your husband swears and grumbles under his breath, eyes darting to look at the clock just as it struck 17:00 (that’s 5pm for those of you who don’t use the 24hr format). goddammit, they were perfectly on time. whatever, he was done arranging the meats and cheeses of the charcuteries anyway. 

     moving to set the trays on the coffee table in the living room for everyone to enjoy, he greets you at the door with the softest little smile ever, one mina just barely catches sight off, which she immediately teases him for and his usual scowl makes a re-appearance in record time as he becomes prickly and sharp again, huffing out a gruff make yourselves at home or whatever. 

     after that, it was another twenty-ish minutes before nearly everyone else arrived. 

     shouto, however, was the last to get there due to him getting into an argument with his father prior to leaving. it was a surprise to even himself that he decided to come anyway, but he had grown to be more sociable than he was back in high school, and also he was one of the three people the party was actually being thrown for, so…. it would just be incomplete without him there, and he recognized that. 

     soon, the party kicked into full swing and the alcohol was excitedly opened and everyone could feel themselves relaxing as it grew closer to dinnertime—which you happily (and tipsily) served to everyone around half past seven. 

     once everyone had eaten and had time to let their food settle, people began saying their goodbyes as the night grew later and later. all except shouto, that was, who was actively still drinking, sitting on your couch with a bottle of sake in his left hand as he watches everyone else clears out. 

     “fuck’s he doin’? just sittin’ there,” bakugou grumbles, coming up to stand next to you after seeing eijirou and denki to the door (uptight as he could be, even your husband was capable of relaxing after a drink or two…. or several). he wasn’t… erm, upset with shouto’s prolonged visit, per se, but he was definitely tired and wanted some alone time with his spouse for fuck’s sake. 

     “be nice, ‘tsuki,” you scold him lightly, moving to walk towards shouto, who had a sleepy look in his eyes, to stand in front of him. “hey, todo, y’okay?” you ask, waving a hand in front of his tired face.

     “mmh? ‘m fine.” his words slur together slightly as he refocuses his blurry gaze on you, and for a moment, the number 3 pro hero thinks you look like an angel sent from heaven to take care of him—until katsuki ruins the moment by walking over and saying;

     “great, then you can obviously get yourself home!”

     “katsuki!” you hiss, looking over to where he stood next to you. “you can stay the night if you need to, shouto,” you tell him softly, squatting down in front of him and placing a hand on each knee to look up at him from almost between his legs — something your husband absolutely did not appreciate. 

     “hey—” he tries to interject, but the young todoroki had already accepted your kind offer, knowing better than to walk or drive home in his current state. 

     “relax, kats, he can sleep on the couch if you don’t want him in a guest bedroom—even though that’s what they’re for,” you suggest/remind him. 

     “i guess,” he huffs, crossing his arms as you finally stand back up.

     shouto, meanwhile, moves to stand up from where he sat, swaying a bit before you put both hands on his broad shoulders and force him to sit back down.

     “nuh-uh, you sit right there, sir,” you say playfully. “is there something you need?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as katsuki grits his teeth while you tend to that drunk icyhot cunt. (as if he himself wasn’t also wasted).

     shouto pauses to think for a moment, thinking about his words carefully before opening his mouth. 

     “do you have any—” he lags and forgets the word he’s looking for mid-sentence. “uhm. ….unfrozen ice?” he asks, tilting his head partially to the side like a confused creature might. 

     “oh my god,” bakugou groans at his request as you break out into a fit of giggles. “you fucking mean water?” he asks his fellow pro-hero. god. what a sorry fuckin’ sight he was — can’t-stand-up-drunk on katsuki’s couch, while he forgot a word as basic as water. jesus christ, he cannot believe you offered to let this fool stay here without even asking him if it was okay first. whatever. he’d just have to fuck you so good that that walking peppermint couldn’t sleep at all. yeah, he could totally do that.

     “water, yes,” shouto follows up as you have to wipe the tears from your eyes at his drunken words. standing up straight, having doubled over from laughter, you nod and tell him yeah, we have unfrozen ice, and that you’ll get him some.

     after you had left the room, though, katsuki huffs loudly and stares down at shouto, who was still seated on the plush sofa. 

     “listen, todoroki,” he spits out, one hand splaying out in an aggressive manner as his quirk popped off quietly. despite the alcohol in his system, katsuki was still just as…. well, just as aggressive and competitive as always despite the way he had grown more outwardly affectionate (towards you specifically) over the course of the evening.

     “i dunno, or care, what you’re trying but just know—” an embarrassing hic cuts him off and his face flushes from more than just the alcohol. suddenly, his big tough guy act drops as his blush reaches the tips of his ears and you come back into the room with two cups of water, handing one off to shouto and the other to your husband.

     both men silently and gratefully take the glasses from you, gulping it down before they even realized just how thirsty they were until the cups were empty and they were looking at you, causing you to suddenly feel small under their intense gazes.

     “‘ll go—get s’more,” you slur, taking the now empty glasses back from the two men, and also this moment alone to calm your racing heart, and maybe pour yourself another shot. or two. or three. calm down, you’re only alone with the two finest men in the world — one of which you’re married to!! you think to yourself as you begin pouring them another glass from the nice water pitcher you had specifically set out for tonight. 

     taking the bottle of vodka from its spot on the counter, you look at how much is left and simply decide on drinking straight from the bottle and polishing it off. little did you know, you’d need that liquid courage for later on tonight. before bringing the two well-built men their water, you dispose of the vodka bottle, putting it in the recycling and heading back into the living room.

     after a comment from katsuki about how it was getting late, you escort shouto upstairs to a guest bedroom and show him where the bathroom is before excusing yourself to your shared bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind you, just for katsuki to barge in seconds later as you move to the master bathroom to start brushing your teeth.

     he joins you shortly after, having discarded his nicer dress shirt and pants in the bedroom’s laundry basket, leaving him far more comfortable in his unfairly flattering black boxer briefs.

     “jesus—kats, how are you so fuckin’ fine?” you ask after spitting out a mouthful of toothpaste, and he only chuckles and lets a small smile stretch across his lips.

     “dunno—could ask you the same thing, though,” he quips back, grabbing his own toothbrush from the little cup it sat in, running it under the water before putting the toothpaste on it and bringing it up to his already white teeth and scrubbing the night’s grime away.

     you giggle at his words, running your toothbrush under the water and giving your teeth a final once over with the brush and scrape your tongue, rinsing it one final time, and then tapping it against the sink’s edge to get some of the excess water out. 

     finally, you made your way to the bed, sitting on the edge of it as you watch your husband finish up in the bathroom before he stalks over to you, an almost predatory look in his eye as he comes to tower over you and you can feel a chill run down your spine as he sizes you up from your spot on the king sized bed. 

     “katsuki..? what’re you—”

     your question is almost immediately cut off as his slightly chapped lips come crashing down against yours as he knocks you back onto the bed and stands between your now spread legs—which quickly wrap around his narrow waist as his large and calloused hands find purchase on your hips. 

     “mmmfgh,” your hum turns into a moan as you focus on the feeling of your husband’s lips against yours, melting into him as he leans over you, teeth clacking slightly as he tilts his head for a better angle to kiss you at.

     “was getting tired of that icyhot bastard,” he grumbles, eyebrows furrowing together as the grip on your hips tighten possessively at the mention of shouto, as if your husband wasn’t the one to bring him up? 

     his words make you chuckle nonetheless as a smile spreads over your pretty, soon to be kiss-swollen, lips as you lean back on your palms, the bed sinking beneath your weight.

     “‘m sorry, tsuki,” you mumble softly before you feel his tongue run over your lower lip, silently begging for entrance to your hot mouth — to which you eagerly granted access to, moaning quietly when he licks into your mouth. he tastes like tequila and spicy udon, and it’s utterly intoxicating (or maybe that was the last of the vodka you’d downed earlier taking effect). “didn’ mean t’invite him withou’ askin’ you,” you slur out, rolling your hips up against his growing erection.

     “‘s okay, i guess,” he pants, pulling away only slightly in order to look you in the eyes, letting you know that he really didn’t mind. sure, shouto was quiet and didn’t actually interfere with what he had planned tonight (or so he thought), so he was only mildly annoyed instead of genuinely bothered. besides….. he had left the door partially open after barging into the bedroom on purpose… just in case that walking candy cane happened to overhear and wanted a peak at the show he wouldn’t be allowed to join.

     and just like that, your husband’s lips come crashing down against yours yet again, tongue easily seeking out your own and swirling around yours before sucking it into his mouth, humming pleasantly around the wet muscle (he was in a shockingly good mood, actually…. guess he enjoyed the party more than he let on—that and the alcohol was a large factor, too) before pulling off of it with a nasty, wet pop! noise. 

     “mmh, glad you’re not mad,” you mutter, eyes fluttering open to take a peek at him. and what you saw was downright angelic — a harsh contrast from his usual demeanor and appearance.

     “why would i be?” he asks, and you straight up laugh, ruining the moment entirely. “hey–!”

     “sorry, ‘m sorry—it’s just—” you wipe a tear from your eye. “you’re usually not so— what’s the word? calm? something like that,” you try explaining to him, a smile gracing your features.

     “i’m calm! i’m always calm!” he spits out, raising his voice, sending you into another round of laughter. 

     “god—i love ya s’much, kats,” you tell him after composing yourself, shifting on the bed so you were leaning against the plush pillows lining the headboard and bakugou eagerly follows after you, moving between your legs, which easily wrapped back around his hips, pulling him closer against you, and he shifted so that he was propping himself up on a forearm, his other hand coming to press against the small of your back, arching it for you as his lips found their way to your neck, where he began to nip at the sensitive skin there.

      “you’re pretty great too, i s'pose,” he grins against your flesh before beginning to suck at the junction of your neck and shoulder, determined to leave a mark dark enough to last a week, at least. 

     “yeah? ‘s good t’hear,” you giggle breathily as he assaults your neck, and one hand comes to cradle the back of his head, fingers threading through his mysteriously spiky hair (you’ve never once seen him use hair gel—hell, you’ve even searched his entire side of the bathroom because you didn’t believe him when he told you it’s just like that).

     it doesn’t take long for bakugou to get fed up with the clothes separating your bare skin from his, desperate to physically feel you against him, and in record time, he has the skirt of your dress bunched up around your hips, you’re sitting up slightly, and he’s tugging the fabric the rest of the way off, carelessly throwing it onto the floor.

     shouto, meanwhile, lay awake staring at the ceiling in your comfortable guest’s bed, drunkenly reminiscing back to high school, and the crush he didn’t know was a crush he had on you. had he known, he probably would have asked you out sometime in your senior year—instead, he misinterpreted his affections as an intimate friendship with admiration for you and your quirk. what always baffled him, though, is why you would pick katsuki bakugou to love out of all people (not like you really had a choice in the matter…… one day you woke up and realized your supposed hatred for him was, in fact, a bone-deep love that consumed you whole).

     with an achy sigh, todoroki sits up and gets up to use the bathroom. after washing his hands and splashing his face with some cool water to sober up at least a little, his ears perk up on the way back to his temporary room. on his way back, however, he happened to catch the faintest echo of a feminine moan, and before he can stop himself, he’s silently stalking down the hall to the master bedroom, where he found the door to be cracked open wide enough for him to get a surprising view of dynamight with his head between your legs and your underwear and dress strewn across the otherwise neat floor.

     immediately, his dick twitches to life in his nice dress pants and he nearly groans at the way you moan katsuki’s name so sweetly. god…. that should be me, he thinks to himself enviously as your husband focuses solely on eating you out.

     “aa-ahh! mmm, katsuki!” you cry out, both hands coming down in attempt to push his face away from your messy cunt, but to no avail. katsuki offered you no respite as his hot tongue explored your puffy folds as he began to suck on your clit. “katsu—fuck!”

     you’re ignorant to the feeling of another pair of eyes on you, too caught up in the feeling of being eaten out, but katsuki isn’t — he feels shouto’s burning gaze, and he can’t help but smirk to himself. so he was right: icyhot couldn’t resist a good show, and boy, was katsuki about to perform.

     “hmm?” he hums, one hand resting on your thigh while he uses the forearm of his other arm to keep you from bucking your hips up. he doesn’t exactly care about what it is you’re whining about; he knows you’re fine and he intends to make you cum at least thrice tonight to show off to shouto, who was apparently a giant closeted pervert.

     and it was true. shouto was nasty without even realizing it — and that’s not to say he slept around, god no (he was 24 and still a virgin….), he just had fantasies. many of which involved you, and shamefully, on occasion, you and katsuki. it made his cheeks burn to even think about, but he would be a liar if he said he’d never gotten off to the idea of a threesome with you and your husband. jesus, and now, here the opportunity was laid right there in front of him, and what was he doing? slowly starting to palm at his erection and bite his bottom lip as he watches the scene in front of him unfold.

     “i— shit–!” you squeeze your eyes shut and arch your back as you tug at his hair. “god, just—! slow down!” you whine, and katsuki’s eye twitches. 

     like in every other aspect in his life, bakugou tended to be rough and aggressive in the bedroom; put simply, you turned him into a feral man—brought out the inner animal in him. he was, as surprising as it may seem to some, a generous lover, however, due to his have to be the best at everything mentality, so, by extension, this included his ability to give and inflict pleasure (mixed with a healthy amount of pain, because, well.. it’s katsuki). 

     “nah.” blatantly ignoring your request, he pulls his head away from your drooling pussy, the lower half of his face covered in your slick, and blows a cold puff of air against your throbbing slit, causing you to whine out his name as he nips at the fatty skin of your inner thigh—dangerously close to your cunt—sucking and biting until a dark purple mark begins to form. a smirk stretches over his somewhat thin, although plump, lips knowing shouto would never get to litter your body in bruises and hickeys the same way he does. 

     “mmh—jesus, kats–!” it’s all you can do to whimper as he resumes the disgustingly messy way he was tongue fucking your pussy.

     shouto almost groans as he gets harder and harder, almost painfully so, as he watches katsuki fervently eat you out, and suddenly, he wishes it was him between your legs with bakugou watching instead. 

     as silently as he possibly can, todoroki begins to unbuckle his belt in order to slip a hand past the waistband of both his pants to feel himself through the fabric of his sickeningly tight boxers. he’s careful to bite back what would be any whimpers or quiet moans, knowing it’s so shotover for him if he gets caught.

     “fuck,” he mutters under his breath, swallowing thickly as he watches as you’re eaten out until you’re cumming with a loud cry of your husband’s name (shouto pretended it was his name you were calling out), and he goes to turn around to hide in the bedroom you’d so kindly allowed him to stay in to jerk off until he hears—

     “y’gonna come out, icyhot, or are ya just gonna stand there like a loser cuck all night?” katsuki lifts his head from between your legs to look at the half-and-half bastard peeping on him and his spouse…… what a fucking freak.

     “sh–shouto!?” you squeak, not having noticed his presence until the man you’d married had pointed him out. “wh–what’re you—!” you can’t even think of what to say before he’s trying to apologize and katsuki’s cussing him out—telling him to get his ass in here before he really makes him sorry. 

     just how drunk was your husband? or shouto for that matter? truthfully, you were probably the most sober person in the room.

     slowly, silently, and shamefully, shouto makes his way into your bedroom, where he comes to stand at the foot of the bed with a horribly noticeable tent in his pants. he wants to look down at the floor, but he’s physically incapable of taking his eyes off your naked, sweaty form—and katsuki’s toned back, for that matter. he gulps anxiously as he waits for the perpetually angry blond to inevitably break the ice. 

     much to his surprise, however, it was you to speak up first, admitting that you didn’t mind shouto’s presence—followed by katsuki sarcastically asking if you wanted him to join, to which your body stiffened and cheeks flushed at the thought. 

     “what? don’t tell me you like the idea of that half n’ half idiot joinin’ the fun?” a wicked grin stretches over his slick lips as he quirks a brow up at you before shrugging and saying; “fine, just remember: you asked for this.”

     “you heard ‘em, todoroki, get the hell over here,” he spits out, and shouto complies immediately—he could not believe what was about to happen and neither could (nor katsuki for that matter).

     as he closes the gap between you three, he fumbles with the buttons of his dress shirt before ultimately just ripping it open and shrugging it onto the floor. repeating the same action with his pants, he struggles slightly with the zipper before tugging it down and quickly stepping out of them, nearly tripping in the process—to which katsuki has to stifle a laugh.

     shouto feels dizzy and light-headed from how hard he is, and he bites his thick bottom lip as he nervously crawls onto the oversized bed, sitting adjacent to you as he awaits further instructions from the ever-demanding bakugou. 

     “katsu—”

     “shut up,” he says gruffly, one large hand coming up to cover your mouth—he was about to dictate everything that was about to go down. “you—todoroki—listen real fuckin’ closely, because i’m not repeating myself. you can look, but ‘m still deciding if you’re allowed to touch yet—” katsuki directs his attention from him to you and asks; “whaddya think, princess? would y’like that? both of us touchin’ you?” and it’s all you can do to nod, cheeks physically heating up in shame and embarrassment. 

     “i guess i’ll allow it, then,” he says, moving his hand away from your face so he can manhandle you into a sitting up position, making you straddle his lap and telling shouto to move behind you.

     you feel your heartbeat quicken significantly now that you’re naked and sandwiched between two of the hottest men you’ve ever been blessed with the chance to encounter. dear god. take a breath, you’ve got this. …..and that’s why your pussy’s all but drooling right now? you can’t help but roll your bare cunt over your husband’s erection, letting out a delicious little moan in the process, and shouto’s equally large hands hesitantly find purchase on your hips, and you look back over your shoulder as he leans in attempt to kiss you—just to be blocked by katsuki’s hand against his pouty lips.

     “i didn’t fuckin’ say you could kiss them,” he hisses. shouto, however, mentally shrugs this off, grabs the angry blond’s wrist to move his hand, and leans in over your shoulder, pressing his chest firmly against your back, in order to—kiss your husband instead????!

     holy shit—this is so much hotter than it should be, jesus christ. you’re genuinely ashamed of the way shouto moving to kiss katsuki rather than you turns you on, and you even let a little oh my god slip in awe and horny amazement. 

     “what the actual fuck, icyhot!?” your husband explodes, trying to shove shouto away from him, but causing you to fall back fully into his lap, where you can feel his boner pressing up against your ass.

     “n–no,” you speak up. “d–do it again.” you try your best not to mutter the request, looking between the man who had crushed on you all through high school and the one you’d ended up marrying. 

     “huh!? have you both lost your fucking minds?!” 

     “please..? do it for me, ‘tsuki?” you beg as sweetly as you can, a pout tugging at your lips as you did your best kicked puppy eyes. as tough as bakugou acted, deep down, he did, in fact, have a soft spot for you, and would do nearly anything for you—and this, unfortunately, was about to be one of the things he was willing to do. maybe he had the whiskey to thank for his… bravery, but for some reason, the idea of making out with that peppermint bastard really didn’t seem so bad. ….jesus, what is he thinking?

     “tch, fine,” he clicks his tongue before he’s suddenly snatching you out of shouto’s lap and bringing you back onto his, where he shifts so his back’s against the headboard and says; “‘f y’can ride me, then sure, ‘ll do whatever you want, sweetheart.”

     nodding eagerly, you tug the waistband of his boxers down just enough to free his aching cock, where it hits his lower tummy and you impatiently use one hand to line up the angry red tip with your slick entrance before sinking down to the base with ease. you both moan at the feeling and katsuki beckons shouto over after pressing a quick kiss to your shiny lips to remind himself why he was doing this.

     shouto’s dick aches enviously, desperately wishing he could feel your heat, but quickly gets over it as his chest presses against your back once again and his lips land against katsuki’s. actually, todoroki was not an experienced kisser—at all, really; he was only copying what he had seen in movies, so he’s a little surprised when the blond’s tongue runs over the seam of his lips and his heterochromatic eyes fly open at the feeling. 

     katsuki, however, reaches around you to grab shouto’s cheeks, forcing him to part his pretty lips, and he easily slips his tongue past his kiss-swollen lips. meanwhile, shouto’s strong arms wrap around your waist while he allows your husband to explore the inside of his mouth, his face heating up despite the way a chill runs down his spine. 

     “mmh,” he hums quietly, freezing his tongue in order to give your husband a little surprise—which works very well, seeing as how katsuki pulls away with a heaving gasp.

     “what the fuck?” he pants, rolling his hips up into dripping cunt, and you let out a little moan, grinding down against him at the same time, allowing him to brush up against your g-spot while shouto moves to kiss katsuki again, large hands coming up to cup his flushed, tanned cheeks, trying to tilt his head for a better angle as he mimics the way the blond’s tongue had run over the seam of his lips, and is pleasantly surprised when he reluctantly parts his slightly thinner lips for the much calmer man. 

     jesus christ, you think to yourself, trying to bounce against your husband’s dick to the best of you ability, but groaning in frustration when his absurdly calloused hands come down against your hips to hold you in place.

     “mm—’tsuki,” you whine as he wholly focuses on kissing shouto (who was currently living out his wet dream). it’s all you can do to wiggle in place, trying to grind your clit against his neatly trimmed pubic hair, desperate for any kind of friction. meanwhile, shouto’s freezing hand comes up to grope your chest, causing you to let out a quiet yelp at the feeling of him tweaking roughly with your nipple.

     poor, poor inexperienced shouto had no gauge or concept of what exactly he was doing, relying on instinct and everything he’d seen in the little porn he had watched; he silently prays he’s acting accordingly and soon his heated left hand is coming up to grab at your other tit.

     “sh–shouto!” you moan, almost causing katsuki to pause in his action as a growl leaves his throat—now this just simply would not do, no, no, no. !!!! fuck! his dick twitches inside you as he ruts his hips upwards while holding firmly onto your hips. “je–jesus! katsuki!” 

     that’s better, he thinks to himself, a smug, self-satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of his plump lips as he tries not to overthink his kiss with todoroki. god. as fucking  embarrassing, humiliating, and shameful as it was, …..katsuki absolutley could not deny the fact that he was feeling so, so, so many things right now, things he never would have considered sober, let alone acted on, and now….. now, he was rock fucking hard as he feels the inside of shouto’s mouth, tracing his tongue along the grooves of his blindingly white teeth and inner cheeks before swirling it around his own heated muscle. 

     he wants to tell shouto he’s not half bad at this when he begins to suck on his tongue—taking him violently by surprise—but can’t bring himself to dole out the praise, not wanting him to get an ego about how well he was managing to keep up. 

     you can feel your stomach doing flips and your pussy creaming around your husband’s cock as the two men you’re sandwiched between really go at it, and suddenly your mouth feels dry as you let out a low, drawn out whine.

     “fuck,” is all you’re able to say as you dig your nails into katsuki’s back while arching your own, with shouto still pinching and tweaking with your poor, erect nipples—his hands were almost at extreme temperatures, and you choke out something about how good it feels, offering the number three hero the praise he needed—something bakugou wasn’t a huge fan of. 

     half n’ half wants to use his quirk? that’s fine—he can, too!

     the next thing you know, your hips feel scorchingly hot and you’re hearing the sound of a very small-scale explosion, and you yelp out your husband’s name, pussy fluttering around his achy length, and you have to bite your lower lip when you feel tears welling up in your eyes from all the stimulation. had you known inviting a drunk shouto to stay the night would lead to this, you would have done it years ago! …because honestly, you were crushing hard on him your freshman year of highschool together—but unfortunately for you, that’s when he had first begun to actually explore his emotions for the first time in his life, leading you to believe you never stood a chance with him.

     katsuki, however, while his primary emotion was anger, you could tell something was up with him and his feelings towards you when he stopped yelling at you as much compared to the others. don’t get one wrong, he definitely still shouted at you, because that’s just who he was, but….. it was enough for you and the girls of 1-A to pick up on—something they teased you relentlessly about behind closed doors because nobody ever dared to mention anything in front of bakugou in fear of ruining your chances together (as you see, mina and a few others were die hard shippers while the rest enabled this behavior). 

      “christ’s sake, katsuki,” you hiss as his quirk repeatedly pops off against your reddening skin and you have to physically bite your tongue to keep yourself grounded enough to scold him. …try to, anyway. “thi— this isn’t a—ahh! fuck!—a compe–titon! jesus!” you moan.

     a competition. 

     that word ring in katsuki’s ears as he pulls away from his kiss with shouto, admittedly a little breathlessly, a smirk stretching over his glossy lips.

     “now that’s an idea,” he muses out loud, causing shouto to tilt his head and your eyes to widen. goddammit, you just had to go and open your bigass mouth, didn’t you?

     “n–no; whatever you— you’re planning, forget about it,” you say as firmly as you can despite the way your pussy flutters around him.

     bakugou clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes at the way you whine out such a ridiculous request. 

     “mmh, nah,” he grins, hands holding you firmly in place against him, preventing you from even rolling your hips—something you’re quick to bitch about. 

     “god–dammit!” sometimes you wish your husband wasn’t so goddamn strong—it made it that much easier for him to manhandle you into any position he wanted. 

     “y’up for a little challenge, icyhot?” katsuki ignores you entirely, focusing his intense gaze onto the slightly younger man.

     “...sure,” he nods, albeit a little reluctantly, unsure of what exactly he was agreeing to. he hopes he’ll get a chance to steal a kiss from you, but for now, he figures it best to go along with whatever bakugou was about to suggest. 

     “whoever can make princess here cum the most in five minutes each can fuck their cunt,” he begins, just for shouto to interrupt him. 

     “and what of the loser?”

    “i was getting there—impatient sonuva bitch….” he mutters the last part under his breath like he wasn’t also an impatient sonuva bitch. “anyway, the loser—in this case, i’m sure it’ll be you, y’fuckin’ virgin cuck—can…. fuck right off and watch,” he finishes, cock twitching deep inside you at his own words. he was absolutely positive he’d win the little proposition he’d struck up, which is why the punishment for the loser was so harsh. when in all reality, if he was feeling kind enough, he’d let you suck shouto off as a consolation prize. ….maybe.

     “sounds good to me,” todoroki agrees to bakugou’s conditions, feeling his own dick twitch as he steels his nerves—he was so fucked. in this moment, shouto’s never been more grateful for being a fast learner, as that was his only chance at possibly succeeding in such a task. he wasn’t particularly familiar with the afab body, and so he has to actively recall all the porn he had seen—mind you, he was incredibly picky about what exactly he’s watching—when suddenly an idea strikes him and he’s asking katsuki to move his hands so he can pull you off his cock and reposition you so your back was against the bed.

     you and your husband are both confused until shouto’s pushing your thighs apart and nestling between them, icy lips kissing down your body until he reaches the mound of your dripping cunt, and you can’t help but get shy—not because you weren’t used to being eaten out, no (katsuki often ate you out until you couldn’t see straight), it was because you just simply were not expecting that from the inexperienced shouto todoroki! but it’s okay, just take a deep breath and—

     “aa–aah! fuck! shouto!” you cry out, caught off guard by the way his full lips wrap around your erect clit and begin suckling on it, his freezing tongue moving to swirl around it as he does. he doesn’t exactly know what he’s doing and is more or less figuring it out as he goes based on your reactions and moans. 

     katsuki is just as taken aback as you were, but for totally different reasons; this was probably one of the last things he had expected todoroki to do, but, but, but…!!! fuck! he couldn’t even be mad about it either because he was the one who had decided to turn it into a competition. shit. okay, whatever, he’d just work around this.

     “nngh–!” one of your hands comes to run through shouto’s split hair, tugging the soft locks gently. “wh–where the fuck did you—aah! hhngh!—learn h–how to do this?” you ask breathlessly, looking down at the man between your legs, and you feel a chill run down your spine and goosebumps erupt over your skin when you realize he’s looking right back at you—staring at you intently, doing his best to gauge all your little reactions, both verbal and physical.

     katsuki can’t help but agree with your question, because seriously, where the fuck had he learned this shit!? 

     all he’s able to do, though, is watch with awe as shouto focuses wholly on his attempt to eat you out — which he was seemingly doing a good job at — as one large and calloused hand subconsciously comes down to jerk himself off slowly, thumb swiping over his bright red, leaky tip, and he hisses out a quiet fuck while your back arches off the bed.

     shouto, however, doesn’t answer, in favor of bringing a heated finger down to your slick entrance — gently prodding at it before slipping it in with ease. 

     “mmmffgh,” you whine as he curls it up slowly, all while sucking on your throbbing clit, and it doesn’t take long for a knot to build up in your lower stomach. “nngh– sh–shouto!” 

     he simply ignores you as he begins to slip a second finger in—gradually heating them up as he did—and you moan pathetically as your husband watches on in awe, his mouth horribly dry and dick achingly hard, and for a moment, he’s scared he might cum to the sight of another man eating his spouse out—so he intentionally slows his pace to something almost painfully slow to make sure he doesn’t prematurely ejaculate, wanti—no, Needing to cum inside you. 

     starting to scissor you apart now, you clench around shouto’s burning fingers desperately, whining as his freezing right hand comes up to pinch one of your already stiff nipples. 

     “nngh–!” it’s not long before you’re cumming with a loud cry of shouto’s name while pulling at his soft hair, back arching deeply off the mattress as katsuki lets out a growl at the sight, already seething with envy….. whatever; he takes in a deep breath to calm himself down and slowly starts to increase the pace at which he’s jerking himself off, groaning softly as he does. 

     todoroki doesn’t relent in his pace, however, messily eating you out throughout the duration of your orgasm, resulting in you cumming a second time not long after.

     “nnngh—’s too much, shouto—” you choke out, pulling at his hair while trying to push him away at the same time. “f–fuck!” it had maybe been two minutes, meaning you had to endure for another three. but how exactly were you meant to do that? with the way he was all but making out with your cunt, you turn your attention to katsuki, pathetically mewling for help—just for him to shut you down! reminding you that you agreed to this and that he knows you can take it.

     the most your husband had ever made you cum in one night was four times—a record he was gunning to beat tonight. 

     by the time shouto’s time was up, he had managed to make you cum three times, on his way to working you up to a fourth, before katsuki’s letting go of his dick and burying his thick fingers in todoroki’s hair, yanking him away from your pulsing heat. 

     “hey—” shouto pants breathlessly, lower face covered in your slick.

     “time’s up, icyhot,” your husband rasps out before asking you how many times you’d cum.

     “th– three, but— i need a break before we keep goin’,” you tell him, panting heavily with flushed cheeks and teary eyes. 

     katsuki simply nods in acknowledgement, untangling his fingers from shouto’s hair as all three of you take this moment to catch your breath. then, after a brief three or so minutes of rest, bakugou’s crawling on top of you as shouto watches on this time, cock leaky and painfully hard as he palms himself through his horribly tight boxers while katsuki kisses you.

     “love ya, kats,” you’re able to pant out, and shouto feels his heart break a little; he wishes he could be on the receiving end of those words some day... but for now, he shifts so he’s kneeling on the bed, legs tucked neatly under him with his thighs spread wide enough for his heated left hand to sneak past the waistband of his boxers in order to grope himself.

     bakugou smiles against your lips at your words rather than returning them, and his tongue slides out to poke its way into your already open mouth, easily licking over the insides of your cheeks and grooves of your teeth. 

     as he watches the two of you makeout, todoroki begins to reflect on his kiss with katsuki earlier, and he finds himself yearning to hear those three little words from him, too, or to be able to kiss you as well….. maybe when this is all said and done… maybe he can work up the courage to ask to join your relationship..? or maybe he’d leave early in the morning full of shame…. he isn’t quite sure yet.

     “mmngh—” you moan softly as one of katsuki’s large and calloused hands trails down your side, moving to cup your puffy cunt, before two thick fingers easily insert themselves into you without much of a warning—fortunately, you were still soaked from your slick and shouto’s spit from where he’d eaten you out so good, so your husband didn’t meet any resistance when scissoring you apart. “k–katsu–!”

     “yeah?” he pants as his cock drools uncomfortably. it’s okay. he’d just have to make you cum four times in five minutes, and—the idea that shouto might beat him at a challenge he proposed due to your fatigue from allowing that icyhot cunt to go first suddenly flashes in his mind, and he’s hardened over with a certain resolve he’d allowed to slip in his overwhelmingly horny state of mind.

     “i— ah! hnnngh— ‘m still se–sensitive,” you whine out, arching your back off the bed at the stimulation, and it’s all you can do to pull at his hair when you feel the calloused pad of his thumb press against your swollen, oversensitive clit. as the fingers almost knuckle-deep inside you press into your g-spot, you go crosseyed from the combined feeling of being finger-fucked and having your tongue sucked on (when’d he start doing that!?).

     katsuki, however, ignores your weak mewls in favor of kissing you so hard your teeth clack together briefly before he’s tilting his head for a better angle and nipping softly at your tongue, causing you to squeak in surprise. 

     rolling your hips up and grinding down against his hand, desperate for more fiction, shouto watches on in awe and horny amazement, taking notes on how your body reacted to katsuki, hoping he could imitate his actions, or develop them into his own, next time he got the chance. 

     soon, though, katsuki’s five minutes come to an end, with you only having cum twice by his doing—something that makes his eye twitch as he realizes that meant icyhot would get to fuck your cunt. ….goddammit! he’d gotten too caught up in the feeling of your lips against his to focus fully on fingering you! sure, he was just about to bring you to your third orgasm–but! oh, this so wasn’t fair! if only he’d gone first! then you wouldn’t have been so worn out!

     shit. with a sigh, he pulls away from your body as his eye begins twitching and he looks over to shouto—who currently had his hand wrapped around his cock—and lets out a huff.

     “there’s no way i’m letting him fuck you,” he grunts out, crossing his muscular arms.

     “kats, that’s not— ‘s’not fair,” you chide him, panting heavily and sitting up on your forearms. “you said— said the winner—” your cheeks flush as you remember the words he’d used and you shake your head to clear the thought from your mind. “...could fuck me—you wouldn’t wanna go back on your word, would you?” 

     shouto’s heart rate increases as you stick up for him, and he feels the extra blood circulating throughout his body go straight to his throbbing dick as his eyes light up with hope—never in a million years would he think he’d get the chance to have sex with you!

     “mm, …fine,” katsuki agrees, salty he’d lost at his own competition, but willing to do whatever to make you happy, so… he almost retches a little at the thought and he feels his heart break in his chest ever so slightly, but… if staying true to his word and letting that half n’ half bastard fuck you would make you happy, then…. he guesses he can let it slide…

     with that, shouto’s shifting onto his knees a little more in order to slide his boxers down his well-toned thighs so his pretty cock can slap against his lower tummy and he’s quick to grab you by the hips, pulling you towards him before katsuki’s words cause him to pause.

     “not so fast, icyhot, if you’re gonna fuck ‘em, then they can at least suck me off while you do,” he growls, moving so that he’s behind you and then manhandling out of shouto’s grasp so that you were facing him. “get on all fours, sweetheart,” he instructs you, and you obey with a nod, presenting shouto with your ass and drooling cunt and he swallows thickly at the sight. 

     his hands plant themselves on your hips once more and a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips—you were glad shouto would at least get a chance to enjoy himself, as you’re sure he probably doesn’t have many good stress relievers, if any at all… 

     with that in mind, you make sure to arch your back nicely for the man on his knees behind you as you take your husband’s dick in one hand while supporting your weight with the other and press a little kiss to the bright red tip before slowly taking it into your hot mouth.

     katsuki hisses out a groan at the feeling of you hollowing your cheeks as you gradually take him down to almost the base, your hand wrapped around what doesn’t currently fit in your mouth, and swallow thickly around him.

     “shit—” a hand is quick to bury itself in your hair to guide your pace as shouto’s jaw slackens in the slightest before he gets a grip and starts to align his swollen and leaky tip with your creamy pussy, moaning much louder than he was expecting to at the feeling of your warm, gummy walls wrapped around his virgin cock. suddenly, whatever metaphorical grip he did have immediately slips away from him as his physical grip tightens to an almost painful extent, and you’re sure he’ll leave bruises in the shapes of his fingertips—similar to the way your husband so often does.

     “aa–aah! fuck!” todoroki whines as he takes his time bottoming out—biting his tongue as he pushes into you almost agonizingly slow, causing you to moan around your husband’s dick, resulting in him pushing your head down further against him and your pussy to flutter around the poor, overwhelmed shouto.

     you nearly gag as his mushroom-headed tip hits the back of your throat, but are able to suppress your reflex to do so well enough to remove your hand from around him while you focus on breathing through your nose as you take him down to the base, until your face is flush against his pelvis, light blond pubes tickling your nostrils slightly. 

     you try to stay that way for as long as possible, swallowing around him continuously to fight your own gag reflex rather than out of consideration of his pleasure, but it’s only been a few seconds when you’re fighting against his strong palm to come up for air.

     after pulling off him with a disgustingly wet pop! and panting heavily, you make the suggestion that the two should kiss again — arguing that if your husband is just gonna offer your pussy to be fucked without asking you, then the least he could do was makeout with the man balls deep inside you.

     “what?” katsuki barks out, looking down at you, with your head between his thighs. 

     “please, ‘tsuki?” you ask nicely, giving him your best puppy dog eyes.

     shouto wants to join in with your pleading—to ask katsuki for a kiss, too, but he knows better, knows your husband will begrudgingly cave to your demands and that he’ll ultimately receive another kiss.

     “tsk… fine—c’mere, icyhot,” he grunts, one hand pushing your head back down onto his dick as the other reaches for shouto. both men lean over you in order to lock lips, and the younger one can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of his lips as he gets what he wants. 

     todoroki’s hips press flush against your ass as he leans over your sweaty, overstimulated body to makeout with your husband. god, you weren’t, like, …a fujoshi or anything, but…. something about the idea of katsuki and shouto going at it in particular had your stomach in knots and cunt clamping down snugly around shouto’s girth. 

     “jesus—” the half and half man pants at the feeling of your pussy, and he honestly doesn’t know how he’s managed to go this long without it. ….or if he’ll be able to live without yours specifically from here on out…… okay, it’s decided. he’d ask to join your relationship, somehow, when this was all said and done, but for now he isn’t sure whether to focus on his kiss with katsuki or the feeling of his dick throbbing almost painfully inside you. 

     ultimately, his attention is drawn to the way bakugou nips harshly at his lower lip—enough to draw a small amount of blood—and a moan gets caught in shouto’s throat, coming out as something more akin to a whimper instead; something that certainly makes katsuki’s ears perk up. had todoroki just fuckin’ whimpered from something he had done? for a reason other than getting pussy for the first time in his stupid virgin life? needless to say, it quickly goes to bakugou’s ego as he begins sucking on shouto’s lower lip, tongue swiping over it quickly at first, and then a second time that was considerably slower and more teasing in nature.

     poor shouto can feel himself going cross-eyed as he ruts into you sloppily, heavy balls smacking against your clit, and he knows he won’t last long like this at all. he’s kinda bummed he can’t …make love to you the way he would prefer, but right now, he doesn’t find himself picky at all—just grateful to be a part of this entire thing, even if he may not get the chance again in the future. that’s why it was critical for him to be present in the moment, literally drooling from how good he feels, as he uses his quirk on his tongue while swirling it around katsuki’s, the now freezing muscle licking over the insides of his cheeks and grooves of his teeth, sending a chill down your husband’s spine. 

    the saliva being exchanged between the two begins to dribble out from the corners of their mouths and drip down their chins and onto your arched back. holy shit. you nearly choke on katsuki’s dick at the feeling of their spit rolling down your spine and you moan in both disgust and twisted pleasure. 

    “nnmgh,” you moan, tongue pressed flat against the underside of his dick as shouto drills into you. now it’s you who finds themselves drooling profusely, your spit running down katsuki’s cock, soaking his balls. 

     the blond can feel himself throbbing down your throat and he groans from the combined stimulation of you blowing him and shouto’s icy tongue—he’s close and he knows it. …meaning that half and half whore was definitely about to cum, with the way your pussy is surely milking him for all he’s worth. 

     “shouto,” he grunts out, pulling away just enough to tell him that if he’s gonna cum, then he has to pull out—that katsuki was the only one allowed to cum inside you. 

     todoroki was more taken aback by the usage of his first name from bakugou of all people, and it’s all he can do to nod and mumble a quiet yeah. 

     it’s not much longer before both mean reach their climax around the same time—with shouto pulling out to jerk himself off for a few more seconds and he’s cumming all over your back with a loud cry as your husband cums in your mouth, thick cum spilling down your throat, past your tongue, not even giving you a chance to taste him.

     after both men catch their breath, katsuki slowly pulls you off of him as he gazes down at you with a particularly soft look in his eye—or maybe it’s satisfaction, you’re too fucked out to really tell. 

     “y’okay, princess?” your husband rasps out, grinning to himself at your teary eyes, one hand cupping your cheek, and you blindly lean into his warm touch.

     “mmhm,” is all you can hum in response, borderline brain dead from how many times you’d cum tonight—clit still throbbing from the earlier stimulation. 

     “good….” he directs his attention to shouto, but doesn’t ask him anything, instead looking him up and down, eyes lingering on his dick for a moment longer than he’d like to admit. he quickly redirects his gaze to shouto’s heterochromatic one, and the softest, barely there smile tugs at the corners of his lips. it was so small and brief, one might think they were hallucinating had they seen it, but todoroki catches sight of it, and he wants to say something, but finds himself speechless; so instead, he leans in to kiss your husband again, and, very much to his surprise, he doesn’t immediately recoil. given, he doesn’t lean in to meet him either, but he does kiss him back as you shift to the side, panting heavily while you watch the two muscular and domineering men go at it for the nth time tonight, and you can hardly believe your eyes.

     one hand slips down in between your legs as they kiss, rubbing gently at your sensitive bundle of nerves while shouto takes the initiative this time, running his now heated tongue over the seam of katsuki’s lips before licking into his mouth, but moans quietly when the usually angry, but now somewhat calm, blond begins sucking on the hot muscle, one hand coming up to almost cradle the back of shouto’s head as he buries in fingers in his two-toned hair, pulling at it roughly.

     “y’know icyhot, you’re really not that bad at this,” he tells him, which is the closest to doling out praise he’ll ever get. 

     shouto, however, takes this to heart as a soft smile pulls at his lips and suddenly he finds himself cupping katsuki’s face and knocking him onto the bed, clumsily clamoring on top of him, and your jaw genuinely drops at the scene in front of you. holy shit.

     “yeah?” shouto breathes from on top of katsuki, who was just as shocked as you were, if not moreso. what the fuck? how the fuck? what was he meant to do? he looks over to you for an idea of where to go with this, and his eyes widen when he sees you touching yourself to the sight of them. …alright, he supposes he can get behind this.

     looking back over to shouto, he replies: “sure, ..but i’m better,” and easily manages to flip the pair so that he was on top instead.

     “nngh–” you moan as softly, your free hand coming to grope one of your tits, pinching and tweaking with your already erect nipples. you don’t know if you can handle another orgasm, but the sight of the pair in front of each other is simply too hot to not jerk to.

     shouto, meanwhile, wraps his arms around katsuki’s neck as he pulls him in for a disgustingly sloppy and heated kiss, lips parting by themselves as he cranes his neck upwards. similarly, he moans as well, tongue already seeking out katsuki’s while you fondle yourself and slowly work yourself up to one final orgasm.

     nipping at his lower lip the same way he’d done to shouto earlier, katsuki retaliates by pulling away from the kiss to bite at his neck — even going as far as to suck against a few particular spots, leaving hickeys to bloom in the place of his mouth. for a moment, the idea of jerking shouto off crosses his mind, but that would be going too far for bakugou. 

     you, however, encourage this behavior, telling them to put on a show for you as you try not to cringe at the feeling of shouto’s cum drying on your bare back.

     so, it’s shouto who finds himself reaching for katsuki’s dick without a second thought, and he heats up his hand a bit to tease the poor blond (there is nothing poor about that man…), causing him to hiss in a mix of surprise and pleasure. 

     “shit—you’d think you would ask someone before just grabbing their dick,” he grunts out, making shouto chuckle a bit at his words.

     “sorry,” he says simply, thumb running over the leaky slit of his mushroom-headed tip, and he really, really wishes he could suck him off…… christ. maybe… maybe he should ask? you were the one who told them to put on a show after all..!

     shouto ultimately decides against it, though, too embarrassed to do so, and instead settles for jerking katsuki off slowly and with intent. 

     “nngh–” bakugou nearly whimpers—not that he’d ever actually do something like that, obviously—and he pulls at shouto’s hair, dick still sensitive from the way you’d sucked him off so good a few moments prior.

     it doesn’t take too long before katsuki finds himself cumming sooner than he’d like to admit, biting down on shouto’s neck in order to cope with the stimulation from his former classmate and fellow pro-hero. 

    you, too, find yourself cumming rather quickly, back arching off the mattress as shouto slows his pace to a halt, pulling his hand away and licking katsuki’s cum off it while making full eye contact with him—something that, shamefully, turned both you and the blond on. 

     you two would have to have a very serious discussion after this about how to move on from here, but for now, the two men turn their focus back to you, finally worn out for the night. katsuki easily shifts to lay next to you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist as shouto moves to get off the bed and go back to his guest room where he’d lay awake for the rest of the night—until he hears you call out for him softly, inviting him to sleep in your bed for the night; something katsuki doesn’t protest against, too tired to do so—and even if he did, his heart wouldn’t be in it. unfortunately, he very much enjoyed his time with the two of you tonight, and might seriously have to entertain your future request of letting shouto join your relationship.

     in the meantime, however, shouto abides and comes to lay on the other side of you, flushed and sweaty body pressing against your back as your chest smushes against katsuki’s significantly warmer one, and you’re quickly lulled to sleep by the sound of his heartbeat and shouto’s steady breathing.

return to KINKTOBER | K. BAKUGOU M.LIST | S. TODOROKI M.LIST

[honeyedclementine]

be more careful

sevika x f!reader, fluff, pre-s1, wound tending, assassin!reader, getting together (one shot, 2.1k words) ageless blogs, minors, and men dni

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content warnings: violence, blood

when silco needed someone taken care of, there were two options he had. sevika or you. sevika was all brawn, there to knock teeth out and leave a bloody heap of anyone who dared to cross silco. this approach had its benefits—fear mongering, for one, a show of force, for another. you however, were sent when silco needed something done quickly and quietly. you lingered in the shadows of his enemies, daggers pressed close to your skin, waiting for the right moment to strike.

so rarely does anything go wrong with you—you're one of the best in the business for a reason. most of silco's enemies and other players in the lanes don't even know you exist. you're good at what you do and you take pride in it.

it's late and you're on another mission—one that should be quick, you'll be back at the last drop before sunrise to report to the boss that you've done exactly what he asked. you linger in an alleyway, having trailed your target for blocks. you keep your footfalls light, the dust barely even shifting as you leap from shadow to shadow.

your first target gets a little too close to the mouth of the alleyway and you grin. a hand is quick to cover his mouth, muffling his gasp as you drag him into your shadow, dagger finding his throat swiftly. you know just where to cut so he can't scream—he can't do much of anything but lie there and choke on his own blood. you watch for a moment, mesmerized, before delivering the final blow and silencing him all together. someone from silco's crew will be by to clean him up, but for now, you turn your attention to your other target—his companion.

your hands go in your pockets, dagger alongside it as you pull your hood up over your head, trailing him through the lanes. he hasn't even noticed the death of his guard—a fool, you think to yourself.

he turns a corner and you strike, an arm around his neck dragging him backwards. lithe as you were, strength was still something you honed within yourself. years of fighting built up skill and force within you. you go to drive your dagger into his chest, but he grabs your wrist, fighting back. you bring your knee up against the small of his back, causing him to grown as your hold on him tightens.

your dagger gets close to his eye, about to drive it in, when he pulls something out of his sleeve, twisting his arm. your knife pierces his eye just as his sinks into your gut. you gasp, twisting your knife and watching him fall still. staggering, you yank your dagger out as he falls to the ground, one hand clutching the knife still sticking out of your gut. it's been a long time since you've been injured in the field and it never fails to shock you to your core every time.

with one hand clutching your injury, you wipe the blood from your own weapon onto your sleeve, tucking it back into place and heading towards the last drop to stitch yourself up. you just hope distantly that thieram replaced the strong whiskey you like for times like these.

it's a short walk, but it feels longer with the blood seeping slowly through your shirt, staining the dark fabric and spilling around your fingertips. the last drop will be closed at this hour, but you've taken care of yourself more times than you can count. it comes with the job.

the last thing you expect is to see sevika sitting at the bar, an empty glass of what you already know is her favorite whiskey. the ice hasn't even melted yet. she turns her head as you enter, a cigarillo hanging from her lips. the smell of the smoke is familiar to you, practically synonymous with the image of the woman you have in your head.

you and sevika weren't necessarily friends, but you weren't enemies either. she respected your job and you respected hers. however, she was never much for conversation and neither were you. even so, you were always a little fascinated with her. where you were lithe, hidden muscles, she wore her strength on her sleeve. her scars were all in plain view—whether it be the hextech blue lines on her cheek or the metal arm she adorned, any glance at her would tell someone she had been through some shit. you kind of envied her ability to be intimidating right off the bat. people weren't usually scared of you until it was too late for them.

"shit, what happened to you?" she asks, eyebrows raising slightly as she pulls the cigarillo from her lips and drops it into the ashtray beside her.

"got stabbed," you shrug, wincing at the flare of pain that shoots through your stomach as you push behind the bar, grabbing a bottle of whiskey along with the small med kit that's kept there.

"are you seriously going to stitch that up yourself?" she asks, sounding almost impressed.

"unless you're offering," a sigh falls past your lips, desperately biting back a whimper as you pull your hand away from the wound.

surprisingly, sevika rises to her feet. "come on."

she reaches across the bar, grabbing the medkit from your hands and nodding over to one of the booths in the back of the bar. you groan, not knowing if this is something you want to deal with right now. you don't need a helping hand, you just need to stitch yourself up and get the fuck to bed. the loss of blood is making you tired. even so, fighting with sevika is never worth it. so, you grab the bottle of whiskey and follow her.

it isn't until she has her flesh hand against your stomach and her mechanical hand gripping the hilt of the knife that you realize she's never touched you before. the thought hits you with a spark of curiosity, quickly subsided by her pulling the weapon out with no warning.

"gods, fuck," you curse, eyes scrunching closed as she lifts your shirt up your stomach, moving one of your hands to keep the fabric held. her metal hand is cold against your own.

she just looks at you, nodding to the whiskey. you sigh and take a swig, letting it burn your throat for a moment before she takes the bottle from your hand, pouring some of the alcohol over the wound and the needle.

"ugh, don't waste the good stuff, thieram will kill me," you groan, struggling to keep your wits about you. for some reason, you never considered the fact that sevika might be warm. maybe it was the metal hand that led you to believe otherwise, but her hand splayed against your stomach—large enough that it covers much more of your flesh than you thought, you note with a slight flush you'll blame on the blood loss—is irrevocably warm. maybe you're just starting to lose it, the slow caress of death weaning all logic and reason from your brain, but when you look up at sevika, backlit by the dim lights of the last drop, you think she's beautiful.

"stop staring at me, i'm trying to focus," sevika grumbles. the slight shade of embarrassment in her voice is enough to distract you from her sticking the needle into your wounded flesh. you clench up, a hand reaching for her wrist as if to stop her. her metal hand comes to your shoulder, gentler than you thought it would be, pushing you back down so she can work. "it's okay. gods, i can't believe you were going to do this yourself. you're being such a baby."

you scoff, "i'd like to see what you look like getting stitched up. my hands are much more nimble, i barely feel it when i do it."

"i'm sure," is all she says in response. despite your pain, you can't help but watch the gentle way she sews your torn flesh back together. the wound itself isn't too large, just deep. the jury is still out on whether or not he hit anything vital or caused any internal bleeding, but that'll be a surprise for later. the fact that you were on your feet long enough to get home tells you that it's probably fine.

when she's done stitching you up, she ties a not and cuts the thread of sutures with her teeth, something you watch with wide eyes. you've never looked at sevika with anything akin to attraction before—well, of course, you noticed she was attractive, it was hard not to—but it's never felt like this. maybe you're delirious, or maybe you're still feeling the adrenaline of the mission, but something feels different. it doesn't help that this is the first time the two of you were properly alone together. maybe that was all it took.

she watches you watch her for a moment, the tension in the room palpable. "be more careful next time. that could've been a lot worse."

you expect her to get up and leave, but instead, she starts cleaning up the blood surrounding the wound. for some reason, you assumed her mechanical arm didn't have the propensity for kindness. after all, the only time you had seen her use it was when she was beating the shit out of someone. yet, here she is, wiping up your blood with a soft caress, careful to avoid the fresh sutures to avoid causing you any more pain than you're already in.

"thanks," you finally find the word, feeling utterly breathless as you watch her. you sit up slightly, feeling the way your stomach groans at the movement. you let your hand holding your shirt drop, but sevika's flesh hand remains beneath it, resting against your flesh. your heartbeat picks up and this time, you're not sure you can blame it on the adrenaline of a fight long ended. "you didn't have to do that."

"i was here," she says, something stilted in her tone. her eyes dart to your lips and you wonder if she's having the same ideas you're having—the quiet surprise of seeing someone in a new light. her hand doesn't move from your skin and you hope it never does. "and i didn't feel like watching you try and do it yourself."

"never knew you to be so charitable," you huff, moving a little bit closer to her. your thigh brushes against hers, the barest touch sending electricity to every nerve in your body. a shiver runs down your spine as her hand moves, crawling slowly beneath your shirt and resting around your waist, tugging you slightly closer. you can feel her warmth—her warmth against you, breath fanning slightly against your chin as you look up at her. "i can blame this on the blood loss, what's your excuse?"

you tilt your head and she offers a small smile—not mocking, like they usually are coming from her, just a small tug of the corner of her lips, almost a smirk but not quite. "you just looked to sad and pathetic, i thought—"

"yeah, yeah, excuses," you roll your eyes, pressing forward slightly and capturing her lips in a kiss. part of you expects her to push you away, to write off the moment of fierce chemistry as nothing, but she kisses you back.

the kiss starts off gentle, but soon grows into something more desperate, fierce in its nature. her hand grips your waist, careful to avoid your wound, tugging you closer until you just cave and settle onto her lap. your hand cups her face, tracing the scars on her cheek as you gasp, her tongue using the opportunity to slip past the seam of your lips, exploring the inside of your mouth.

desire pools deep in your stomach, hips grinding softly against hers. after a moment, though, pain flares through your wound and you yelp, pulling away from sevika and burying your head against her shoulder, a shaky breath falling from your lips. funny, you had almost forgotten about that.

sevika's hand rubs against the small of your back, so gentle you almost don't know what to do with it. her metal fingers run through your hair as she turns, whispering in your ear, "why don't we raincheck this until you're a bit more sturdy?"

you let out a weak chuckle, the exhaustion of the fight and the injury finally starting to catch up to you. "promise?"

she chuckles, "yeah, promise."

with that, she helps you up to the spare room above the last drop. you bite your tongue when you think about asking her to join, but you can see in her eyes that she will eventually. after all, a promise is a promise.

tag list: @puppyels @njm63522

[honeysickledream]

Who's Who, Darling? | TF!141 x F!Reader

cw: fivesome (F/M/M/M/M), blindfolds, oral (f!receiving), fingering, edging, use of safeword, reader gets overstimulated, aftercare, no descriptions of reader or use of y/n | lmk if i missed something [NSFW 18+ minors and ageless blogs DNI]

pairing: TF!141 x F!Reader | reads as the start of Poly!141 x F!Reader at the end

can be found on ao3 too | pt 2

You complain to the guys that your paperwork is never-ending and that it's completely fucked up your dating/sex life. It’s been a month, almost two, since you’ve had a proper day off and properly gotten laid, and it’s destroyed your ability to focus. They offer out of the goodness of their hearts to cover your paperwork for the rest of the year if you can determine who’s who while they fuck you blindfolded. 2-for-1 special right there: no more paperwork the next few months and you get to end your dry spell. A time and place are set, boundaries and expectations agreed upon, and you spend the next day trying to find ways to make identifying them easier for yourself.

It’s not long after they arrive at your place that you’re blindfolded with some random sleep mask Simon grabbed on the way over, and then lying stripped and spread out on the edge of your bed. The night starts with you trying to determine who’s eating you out, and it’s easy at first. You correctly guess Price moments after he starts to lap at your clit. You know it’s him because of the facial hair (the others showed up clean shaven, smart move). Soap is next and you let him have his go a little longer than you let Price. He’s noisy and sloppy, groaning with each drag of his tongue against you, nuzzling your cunt eagerly. You're certain that if the blindfold wasn't there you'd see his face covered in your slick. He complains about you not being fair as he moves away to let whoever was next have his go. The third man’s hard to name—obviously it's either Ghost or Gaz, but whoever it is, they’re too quiet, too smooth, too methodical for you to confidently say a name. Whoever it is stops right before you come and the second one is tapped in when you’ve calmed down just enough. It becomes a cycle: one gets you to the edge before backing off to let the other tease and frustrate you some more. Price and Soap think it’s fucking hilarious how whiny and worked up you’re getting, you’re lightheartedly plotting revenge against those two. It’s not until whoever is currently between your legs slips a finger in you that you’re almost 100% sure you know who it is: Gaz. He’s got the nicest hands out of them, his fingers the longest you think. He slowly pulls his finger out before pressing it back in while sucking at your clit.

There’s a rush of cold air against you when he pulls off and eases another finger into you. It’s Ghost who suddenly lies half on top of you and latches his lips around your clit. He sucks hard before pulling off to nip and pinch and sometimes trace letters against it with the tip of his tongue. Gaz manages to slip a third finger in right before you finally come. Suddenly it’s all too much: your vision black from the mask and now from your climax, the sudden awareness of their eyes on you, the almost suffocating warmth of the room—you’re mumbling out your safeword and their energy shifts. The sleep mask is carefully pulled off your head and you’re hauled up by your arms as Price moves behind you. You’re shaky and sweaty, whining so pitifully that if your brain hadn’t been so full of fuzz, you’d feel a bit of annoyance that they’d gotten you in such a state. He pats your thighs as you flop between his legs, head against his shoulder. Ghost’s cracking open a bottle of water for you, holding it to your lips to let you drink slowly. Gaz is asking you question after question, Soap’s wiping the sweat from your forehead, Price’s hands have moved to massage your shoulders, and Ghost’s opening another bottle of water while confirming that supper will be here in an hour. The only mention of the round two that was supposed to happen comes from Ghost who says it’ll happen some other time, that you did well enough tonight for the paperwork deal to stand and for you to get your much needed rest. They let you get up from the bed once your shaking has faded and your breathing has regulated. You take your time in the bathroom, Gaz occasionally popping his head in to make sure you’re all good. The food arrives at some point, Ghost’s voice carrying through the house as he tips the delivery person and brings the food up to your room.

You’d expected to see them all scarfing down the food, leaving crumbs on your bed and desk, but that’s not the scene at all. Soap and Price are star-fished on your bed, snoring up a storm while Gaz and Ghost discuss plans to renovate your shower to make it big enough for the five of you--the five of you…you really like the sound of that.

You tell them a second water heater will be needed as you riffle through the plastic to-go bags to find something you’ll like. Gaz asks about color schemes—he’s not a fan of the current beige on ocean foam with chrome accents—and Ghost’s mumbling out mathematical formulas for water usage and shower dimensions that make your head hurt a bit.

If they’re serious about it being the five of you (they are), you’ll need a bigger bed, too. Alaskan King, maybe? Oh…you’ll also need to find a deeper, longer couch, too.

a/n: i honestly ran out of smut-writing steam so round two will happen...some other time. my second proper attempt at writing smut, woo...

[intimacyequalsdeath]

heyya!!!... Beautiful💐.

I see requests are currently open, so if you don't mind... can I request a sexy wife s/o who loves to cook and will always make slasher food? And prepare all their needs (you know like a good wife in general🙃),My twin sisters really like their slasher Especially for Bo, Lester, Vincent, Thomas hewitt,Charles Lee Ray and Michael Myers...

Oh, I also think it would be great if they had obedient children with the wife s/o. They know how their father is and they choose not to worry too much about it. Please....I'm sorry if I requested when your requests were closed, but, I've been looking for a blog for a long time whose requests are still open and finally I found your blog 😭.

My twin sister is sick and I want her to be able to read the story you made from my request 🙏.

Love you dear

Thank you so much for the request sweet anon! <3 I hope me deciding to do Headcannons for each story was ok to anon. Sorry this took so long, I worked on it in chunks over the course of a few different days.

Also I hope you sister feels better soon Anon <3 <3

Slashers with a good little wife and good little children: The Sinclairs. Michael Myers, Thomas Hewitt and Charles Lee Ray.

Also not my gifs, not of the gifs I use are ever mine and full credit goes to the original creators <3

Notes: Minors DNI, Written with AFAB in mind as per request, suggestive themes. Story under the cut. Request centers around "traditional" wife roles. Talks of pregnancy and children.

<3 : Bo loves the idea of having a good little wife and good little children to boot. He just never thought living in Ambrose and as a man with his hobbies he would get to experience that, until he met you.

<3: You instantly took over cleaning and cooking, even some of the spots in Ambrose no one even went into anymore. You had no idea how the boys had managed to survive so long with living like they were raised in a barn.

<3: Bo also liked how you liked to steer clear of anything having to do with his business and what went on at the gas station.

"it ain't your place" He murmured once into your hair when you asked him about it when the relationship was still relatively new. That was the first and only time he ever had to tell you that.

<3: Bo was thrilled by your want to stay out of his and mind your own that it was surprising when you ultimately fell pregnant after only about a year being in Ambrose. As if he'd let you leave.

<3: Bo let you take care of all the child rearing duties, with him being gone usually all day it was just easier plus the last thing he wants to come home too is crying children after a long day.

<3 As the children grew you had to teach them about what their father and uncles and explain why it would be inappropriate to ask anyone about it. All they needed to know was that they were safe and their daddy loves them.

<3 The sight of you being rounded with HIS baby also does things to Bo, So don't be surprised if he makes it a goal to keep you pregnant as often as possible.

<3 Bo would be a in and out father I think though, not that he means to be he does love the children. His relationship with his own father affects how active he is a lot of the time and since that's the only father figure he has to go off of he doesn't wanna turn out like him.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Papa!' The children yelled as they ran through the door of the gas station to their father. You had a free instance of free time so you thought you'd bring them down to bring Bo some lunch.

"There's my babies" Bo said opening his arms to catch all 3 of them up in them. He turned to you poised and ready for the kiss you planted on his lips as you set the basket of food down on the counter.

"We made you lunch papa!" Your youngest girl said as he placed her back on the floor. Bo smiled at her.

"You did now didya?" All three children nodded as you opened the basket and began to explain to Bo what you made him. It wasn't long before your family bubble was interrupted by a car pulling up outside.

Bo's gaze hardened as he turned to look outside the station windows he then turned to you and the kids before barking an order.

"You four need to go on and get back to the house now" He said, The children having been through this before nodded before falling in line behind you to head back home.

"I'll come get ya'll when I'm done" Bo said planting a last kiss to your lips before you waddled out of the gas station, giant pregnant belly and all three little ducklings in tow.

<3 Soft mushy Vincent is soft and mushy.

<3 You are his doting little wife and he is your doting husband. His heart swells every time he sees you coming down into the basement with a plate of food and a drink.

<3 At first he was a bit nervous about you growing board of Ambrose since he wouldn't let you be involved but when he saw you begin to clean literally anything and everything he figured you were alright.

<3 Vincent loves your cooking and it actually helps rouse him out of the basement to come and sit at the table with you and his brothers.

<3 When you fell pregnant the first time, He was stunned. Like truly stunned. He never thought fatherhood more or less being a husband was in the cards for him ever.

<3 To know have both he couldn't believe it. A cute little house wife and a baby he hoped would look just like you.

<3 If the baby isn't twins expect to start trying for a sibling right away. Vincent like his brothers adores the sight of you pregnant with his baby. It awakens a primal instinct inside of him to be the provider and keep you safe at all costs.

<3 Vincent would be afraid that the baby would be afraid of his face or his mask, no matter how many times you assured him other wise he couldn't help but worry.

<3 If the children grow up to question their fathers face or what he does in Ambrose, you and Vincent will tell them the loose truth obviously omitting a lot of detail. At least until their old enough.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Vincent, your her daddy. She'd never be afraid of you" You told him softly, reaching out in an attempt to hand him your daughter.

Ever since she was born Vincent refused to hold her as he didn't wanna scare her off with his mask or his face.

He looked into your eyes as he went to shake his head, before he could though you had shoved your baby into his arms and positioned his hands in the proper places to hold her.

Vincent jumped at your sudden action but was never the less quick to cradle his daughter. He looked down at her once she was settled and when his eyes met hers that matched your perfectly he felt his breath leave his body.

Vincent had never experienced a feeling like this in his entire life and doubted he would ever feel it again. He was head over heels in love with this little human the two of you had made together and from that day he vowed that anyone who tried to come in-between him and his family would have him to answer too.

<3 Lester is used to cooking and cleaning his own space so it takes him awhile to get used to you doing it for him.

<3 He appreciates it greatly but he doesn't fully understand why you would want to clean up behind him like you do though. Like he picks up roadkill all day who would want to smell that?

<3 He doesn't complain about you cooking though, He thinks your food is amazing and it's great to come home to a warm cooked meal every night.

<3 You do so much for him so don't be surprised if Lester comes home every so often with little gifts he's collected for you. Some of them may or may not come from victims but as Lester's good little wifey you never question it, you just press your lips to his and thank him for the thoughtful gift.

<3 When you fall pregnant, again like his brothers, Lester is thrilled. He can't be in the same room as you without running his hands up and down your swollen belly while trying to feel the baby kick.

<3 Lester wants a football team of children, so be prepared to make many renovations to the cabin the two of you share to accommodate all the children.

<3 Lester loves bringing his sons out on the road with him when their old enough and with your permission of course. He'd never let them participate in anything Bo or Vincent do but helping him with roadkill is just fine by him.

<3 If any of the kids ever questions what their uncles do in Ambrose and why Lester doesn't usually want them around it, He'll tell them that it's because of Vincent's delicate projects and that answer is enough for the kids.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Nah sweetpea, you know why you can't go to Ambrose" Lester softly told your son after the fifth time he had asked to go see his uncles. Your son sighed and pouted slightly before speaking.

"I know uncle Vincent's art is easy to break but I promise I won't ruin anything"

"My love, I've told you it's rude to question your father" You piped up from your chair in the living room, running a hand over your slightly swollen belly. "Why don't you go join your brothers outside for a bit before dinner, and stay where we can see you" He gave you a sad look but nodded and went through the front door outside.

"I know the boys love Vinny and Bo, but I just want em to be safe" Lester told you sitting on the arm of your chair and putting a hand over yours sitting on your belly.

"I know Les, but when their older they'll understand why we have rules" You shot him a smile and he gratefully returned it. He was so lucky to get someone so understanding of the "Family Business"

<3 Thomas was raised to be a family man. Luda Mae had always told him growing up that one day he would need to find a wife to continue the Hewitt family with.

<3 Enter you, ending up at the Hewitt farm like so many others, but not meeting the same fate as them.

<3 Thomas would've easily put babies before marriage but Luda Mae insisted that you two do it the traditional way and get married first.

<3 You were quick to win her over with your affinity to help out with cooking and other house chores. Especially when it came to taking care of her darling boy Thomas. She was thrilled he had found someone who loved him so much.

<3 In the Hewitt house hold with Monty and Charlie both breathing down your neck, it's easy to be reminded to leave the mans work to Thomas and just focus on helping Luda with whatever she needs.

<3 When you fall pregnant with the first baby, the whole house hold is thrilled.

<3 Luda, Charlie and Monty all never thought they would see the day that Thomas would continue the Hewitt family tree so it was a very big deal when you fell pregnant with Luda's first grandchild.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Now darlin' you know your not supposed to be doing anything in your state" Luda reprimanded as she walked into the kitchen to see you doing dishes.

"I know mama but laying in bed all day everyday is driving me nuts" You told her drying off a plate you were washing. Luda joined you at the sink grabbing a cup to wash it before handing it to you to dry.

"When I was pregnant with Charlie I almost got driven up a wall myself. Just don't let Tommy see, You'll never hear the end of it" She said giving you a small smile before heading back to the living room.

You stood at the sink and continued to wash until you heard familiar footsteps heading up the basement stairs, you tried to pretend like you weren't washing dishes but it was too late, Tommy was on you in an instant.

"Tommy hun it's ok!" You pleaded as he took the dishes out of your hands and herded you towards a chair. You couldn't help yourself but the laugh of how your giant husband could be turned so soft and attentive with you.

You grabbed Tommy's hands before he made you sit down and placed them onto your rounded belly. His eyes met yours instantly and your foreheads pressed together.

"Tommy we're fine, I promise honey." Tommy looked at you incredulously before rolling his eyes and huffing at you, you laughed. If there was one thing in this world Tommy couldn't say no too it was you.

<3 Now Charles I could see being a bit different. Sure he adores having someone cleaning and cooking since he's out doing what a serial killer does most of the time but when it comes to kids he's a bit hesitant.

<3 He loves that you love to cook for him. It's nice having warm meals to come home too for once, Brownie points if their his favorite foods.

<3 Doesn't so much like when you get on him about tracking blood through the house or getting one too many stains on his clothes.

<3 If you really want a baby start telling him how lonely you are when he leaves for long periods of time to go kill people. He'll give you want you want as long as the baby stays out of his way.

<3 He'll be a good dad though don't get me wrong and he'll love the kid or kids just as much as you but he's a busy guy that's got shit to do so he mainly sees them as your responsibility.

<3 Might get jealous of all your attention going to the baby though, he understands it has too but that doesn't mean he has to be happy about it all the time.

<3 Your never going to be the picture perfect family but for your Charles will try his best to give you and the kids everything you'd ever need.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Charles! what have I told you about tracking blood in the house!" Your voice echoed through the house. You heard a muffled laugh as he rounded the hallway with your 3 month old in his arms.

"Babe I'm sorry, you know I never mean too sometimes it just happens" He said adjusting your bundle of joy in his arms.

"Whaddya think kid should mommy forgive me just this once?" He asked your child you babbled in response.

"You said just this once the last three times chuck" You deadpanned before breaking a smile when he did.

"Just a hazard of the job toots" He laughed, You joined him before your eyes were met with the deep red splotches on the blazer he was wearing.

His eyes followed yours before his froze and turned to walk away with the baby in tow as you yelled out behind him.

"Charles! The blood!"

<3 The only inkling of what a normal family functions like that Michael has ever gotten was from his childhood, and to be honest I think his memories of that are very few and far between.

<3 You want to do what for him? Cook and clean ? why on earth would you want to do that for? Michael is confused.

<3 Though preparing to go out and finding a nice fresh out of the dryer jumpsuit all nice and warm and clean for him is quite nice. Michael thinks this is something he could get used to.

<3 On those late nights where he comes back late and finds plates of dinner wrapped in tinfoil ready for him to either heat up or eat just like that is also something he could get used too. It tastes way better then what he usually eats (Totally not dog, totally not)

<3 When kids get brought up though, it's a different story. I could honestly see him not really being all for it at least not at first.

<3 He's really like Charles but more so into the you can have kids as long as they stay far out of his way.

<3 His feelings towards them also aren't the most parental either. He loves them ? At least, Michael feels an emotion he could probably equate to love about them.

<3 But yeah I think for Michael it's best you just keep the kids clear of him. It's not easy when your father is the shape of Haddonfield.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Welcome home Mike!, your dinner is wrapped up on the counter love" You greeted him as he came home after a night of terrorizing the town. Placing a kiss to the cheek of his mask.

Michael nodded wordlessly, as always, and turned to go into the kitchen. Tonight you had made his favorite, or at least what you only thought was one of his favorites by the way he every so slightly changed reactions every time you made it.

You gave him a second before following him into the kitchen and sitting next to him at the island. You watched as he lifted his mask up for each bite of food before lowering it to chew.

You made the mistake of questioning him once as to why he didn't just take the mask off. It was early on in the relationship and his hand instinctively went to his knife before you even finished asking. That was how you learned it's better to just not ask Michael questions at least not about the mask.

The two of you sat in silence, a routine you repeated pretty much every night unless you were already asleep when he got home. You would spend all day cleaning and making sure everything was ship shape for him then you would greet your monster of a man when he came through your front door.

You were brought out of your thoughts when Michael's plate crashed into the sink and broke into pieces. Michael still didn't understand how to not hold the plate too high and just to sit it in the sink.

Looks like something you'll still have to work on. No one said the shape of Haddonfield was smart when it came to chores anyway.

[theladyofmanyfandomsafterhours]

More Than We Thought.

Shanks x Reader

Explicit | NSFW | 18+ only

Warnings: Heavy (but ‘delicate’?) smut under the cut - trust me. There’s no build up, we just dive right in.

A/n: It’s purely self-indulgent. I’m hiding under my covers so you can’t see me - is it working?

Inspired by Dirtier Thoughts by Nation Haven.

I’ve written clean fanfic over 6 years so I’m terrified to post something so explicit. But we’re allowed to branch out right?

For less steamy fics, try the main blog.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Shanks pressed his hand just under your belly button, his fingers lightly tracing the outline of where his hard length had entered the most intimate part of your body. He could feel himself squeezed inside. He moved forward slightly and saw the bulge underneath his palm follow the movement.

He glanced up at you and saw your head laying on the mattress, chin tilted up and lips between your teeth. He pushed in deeper and the bump grew slowly. You hummed at the sensation. Heels adjusting on the edge of the bed as you spread your legs as much as you could to let him in.

Taking the positive signs, Shanks kept going further - keeping an eye on the way your hand gripped the sheets. But his main focus was seeing how high the bulge under your skin could go before there was no more space. He wanted it to reach your belly button but even the human body had its restraints.

Bit by bit, he pushed until you let out a soft gasp when he had hit capacity. Shanks looked down at where you were connected, a small frown settled on his face - there was still a bit more of him left.

“Shanks.” You whispered. “What’s wrong?”

The Red-Haired pirate smiled. “I’ve filled you but I...” he leaned forward to kiss your neck. “I’m bigger than we both thought.”

There was a pause before you gave a breathy response. “Push it in.”

Shanks peppered another slow kiss beside the first letting his tongue linger just a little. “Are you sure?”

Looking down, you finally met his eyes since it all started. “Push it in and then repeat it.”

Shanks laughed softly and caught your mouth with his. Nipping the bottom lip when he pulled back. “You’re not going to be able to walk tomorrow if I start.”

Lifting your head up slightly, you copied his kiss and tugged at his lip lightly. “I dare you to have me not walk for a whole week.”

The grin on Shanks’ face distracted you for a split second until there was a sudden harsh pressure in your core as he forced the rest of himself inside you. The fit was undeniably tight and Shanks knew it. He hit the one sensitive spot that made you react in a way that made his heart race. Head thrown back, eyes closed, your mouth opened but was unable to voice a desperate scream. Only managing a short and sharp, “A-Ah!”

“Are you okay?” Shanks asked just to be sure.

You took a few seconds to catch your breath and adjust to his size. “Fine - a little warning would have been nice.” You told him honestly. When his smile dropped a little, you grabbed his chin and smiled. “But where’s the fun in that, right? Do your worst.”

“Looks like you’re not going to be able to talk for a week either.” Shanks returned with a smirk.

He pulled out carefully and when his hips moved a second time, he slammed himself into you - this time getting one hell of a scream from your lips. Then he did it again - pulled out to the tip before ramming back inside - and then again, determined to make your legs tremble until they wouldn’t hold you upright for the next week…or more.

Each thrust sent your voice screaming spirals into the air sometimes as a cry of pleasure other times just his name - and it only spurred him on. When Shanks started to speed up, your hands found his body. Nails clawing into his skin with a dull pain but it was nothing compared to what he was pounding into you.

If it became too much, you would shout the designated safe word but until he heard any part of that phrase, you were at his mercy. His hard length diving in and out of your body -

…until you couldn’t speak.

…until your legs quaked.

…until you had no more of your juices to release.

…until your insides were drowned in his hot spend.

And until your body was newly shaped to fit all that he was squeezing.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

A/n: Still in shock I wrote that. Sweet dreams x

[monimccoythings]

Alastor x Daughter!Reader: Runaway I (Platonic)

So, what would it happen if Y/N after a lot of time at the hotel, decides to run off and explore the human world? Just like it happened in Helluva Boss I think. This is lighter than the others, but I really wanted to write this one. This could be interpreted as some AU of the Au or even set in the same series after a lot of time has passed.

I know the Grimoire doesn't really look like that and is in the ownership of someone else, but I was thinking that since Lucifer is the King of Hell, he should have at least a copy.

Reminder: Alastor is in hell for a reason.

Tw: Controlling behavior, possessive behavior, Alastor being a very controlling dad.

tags: @anonymousewrites, @nonetheartist, @littledolly2345, @sunnyx07, @ouroborostheunholy, @mo-0-o, @sydneyyyya @lbcreations-blog, @kiraisastay

Things have gotten much better for you since you first arrived. It had finally gotten inside your thick skull that this experience was for real. As crazed as Charlie's dream seemed to be, you couldn't help but believe in her and her goals, given her optimism and enthusiasm. You could say this place was safer than anywhere else you had been crashing for the last ninety years.

But the safety of a place didn't always come hand in hand with feeling safe. And there was only one person to blame for that: Alastor.

If he had been overprotective as a human, as a demon he was much worse. He didn't give a fuck about subtlety anymore. He knew the kind of people that were out there; in fact, he was one of them! Time had proved over and over again you wouldn't make it out there without his protection! He just wanted what was best for you and he also casually happened to know what it was! He was that smart, hahahaha!

As a minor, there was little you could do in Hell, you couldn't drink, you couldn't smoke, you couldn't have sex. So that just nuked three of the most popular hobbies there. Not that you cared much, but it just really left you with a feeling that you didn't belong among the guests and staff friend group due to your youth. The emotional age gap was quite something. And there were times where you felt like the tag-along-kid more than a part of the team.

It was really embarrassing to pull yourself up to one of Husk's stools, ask for the strongest he had, and get served some pineapple juice. He may get a few laughs out of your antics, but you just wanted to fit in.

Sometimes you played with Nifty, since she seemed to be the closest to you in age. Unfortunately, Nifty didn't seem to know any game that didn't involve cleaning or roach mutilation. (how was she even able to find a murderous point of view to Parchis???)

Charlie and Vaggie were too busy managing the hotel and attracting new customers, but you got a feeling they still wouldn't manage to fill that void you seemed to have.

Angel was like the big brother you wished you had had back when you were alive. He loved to gossip with you and Cherri; even when you didn't understand half of what they were saying, it felt nice having some kind of normal teenage stuff around. He also liked to nudge you towards some potential boyfriends, saying that you were in 'in the age' *wink* *wink*. Your dad did not appreciate that.

Alastor wouldn't consider himself a boyfriend blocking dad, Heaven's, no! Just a humble boyfriend murdering dad. So whatever idea of dating or just hanging out with other people your age was out of the question. As soon as you started talking to someone that was in the same age range as you, his shadowy form started to appear behind you and his eyes changed into dials, that was enough for anyone to start running in the opposite direction (he had scared away so many pontential guests it was unreal)

You couldn't even own a phone. Your dad insisted that 'his hotel, his rules'. Any technology that surpassed the 50s was out of the question. (they still didn't have a working phone). If he caught you with one in your hands, specially a VOXTECH phone, even if it was not yours, the battery suddenly started to heat to unbearable levels and you just had to drop it before it exploded in green flames.

Where was the fun loving dad you grew up with? The one that at least had the decency to be a bit more discreet? 'Dead at the prospect of raising a teenage girl!' He liked to say with a laugh.

You talked to Rosie about it, hoping she would talk some sense into him, and he had the nerve to act all innocent and oblivious! Like you were the one being unreasonable!

Somehow, this safe haven had started to become like a prison. You found yourself feeling suffocated and alienated from the others. When you were out there on your own you had lived in fear and trauma, which you hated with all what remained of your heart; but now that you were in a relatively safe place, you felt isolated and trapped. There was no common ground. You needed to breath, to live (or unlive), to enjoy life! You were not a little girl anymore! (҉Y҉e҉s҉ ҉y҉o҉u҉ ҉w҉e҉r҉e҉!҉)҉

So, one day, while helping Nifty clean and hiding from the Radio Demon That Sees It All, you casually stumbled into something very interesting at Lucifer's workshop. It looked like an ancient book, unlike those at the library which you had read and reread over and over again (One could read one too many times Mr. Waddles Goes to Church before it started to get old).

Something in that book drew you towards it, you knew you shouldn't look. It was probably full of ancient demonic knowledge, but maybe a teensy weensy peek wouldn't hurt, right?

Your face lighted up when you opened the book, (and not only because the light was coming from it). There were no words to describe what you found inside. You could see everything inside of it, it was like it was filled with everyone's dreams and hopes, you wondered how something as beautiful as that had ended up in Hell.

Without thinking, you touched the pages which felt warm to the touch. In response to your delicate caress, the pages started shining even brighter. You were so mesmerized by it that you didn't notice how the room was starting to fill with small orbs of light that started moving around you at impossible speeds, like a tornado.

Crafting materials, toy ducks and gizmos were sent around the room due to the force of the movement. But you didn't pay them any attention. There was something truly magical about the orbs' dance. It was enrapturing.

The door shot wide open, revealing Lucifer, Charlie and Vaggie with an horrified look in their faces. They were shouting something at you, but you could barely hear them, too lost in the orbs and their hypnotic dance. So distracted that you didn't feel the chilling presence that joined them until he spoke.

"Y/N, my dear? ." You felt a shiver run down your spine and your heart filled with the fear of a child who knows they have been caught doing something they shouldn't. You could perfectly hear his radio filtered voice, clear as a day, quiet as the calm before the storm. "Step away from that book, cherie. You could get hurt, and we don't want that, do we? ." He spoke with the kind of condescending tone one would use with a little kid.

A new sudden emotion emerged within you, something you had never felt before and never had any need for it. Anger. Who was he to stop you? Why did he always treat you like you were one of his puppets? Like you were another toy he could dress up and command as he pleased? Why couldn't he let you live?.

Feeling braver, probably due to the book's influence, you looked at his red eyes defiantly, once again touching the pages. Despite his permanent smile, you could tell he was getting angrier by the second.

"Y҉/҉N҉" His body was morphing, growing, eyes already changing to those red radio dials that gave you the chills. "I҉ ҉F҉O҉R҉B҉I҉D҉ ҉Y҉O҉U҉-҉"

"No!" You found yourself surprised at your own voice."I lost my life for you, I got sent here because I tried to protect you, I wasted my life because of you!" That last part came a bit more demonic sounding than intended. "Now. I WANT TO LIVE."

And with that, you were enveloped in a bright light and dissapeared.

For a couple of seconds, nobody dared to make a move. After what felt like hours, reality seemed to kick in and everyone sprung into action; Lucifer desperately searching through the pages of a suddenly very uncooperative book, just in case you had been sucked in, Vaggie was already establishing a perimeter around the hotel and search parties, and Charlie, poor sweet Charlie was franctically looking through every single room on that floor.

The only one who hadn't moved yet was Alastor. Already shrunk back to normal size, he seemed completely relaxed and chill in what could be considered an extremely catastrophic situation to any parent.

"Ah, must be those teenage hormones kicking in." His voice sounded as cheery and joyful as always. Almost like he didn't care. Lucifer shot him a venomous look, silently urging him to show a little care for his MISSING DAUGHTER. But Alastor had already retreated back into the shadows and returned to his radio tower.

If only they knew.

The truth was that Alastor cared. Way too much. He sunk his claws into the table while he fought against the deeply buried instinct in him to let himself loose and destroy everything in his path. The chains in his neck, glowed menacingly, a bitter reminder that he wasn't at full power.

He had lost you. Again.

He had you there, close enough to reach and you had vanished before he was able to do something. You had run away.

The mere thought made his hands shake with anger, antlers already growing twice their normal size. How could you? After everything he did for your sake, for your safety, y҉o҉u҉ ҉d҉i҉s҉o҉b҉e҉y҉ ҉h҉i҉m҉??? His smile looked more like a grimace and his eyes were pools of red hot rage. Oh, you were so grounded when he got you back.

Now you were out there, who knows where. All on your own. Defenseless, at the mercy of his many enemies without anyone, HIM, to protect you.

He sent his shadows into the city, he would leave no stone unturned no crackden untouched until he found you. He didn't care who he had to kill, maul or destroy. You would be coming back with him. Only HE could keep you safe, whetever you wanted it or not.

His desperation only grew when his shadows came back empty handed, the crazed look in his eyes combined with the slasher smile only made him look like the deranged psychopath he actually was.

You weren't in the Pride ring. He was even starting to doubt you were in Hell at all. What was the last thing you had said?

His non beating heart gave a painful twist when your parting words echoed in his mind. The bitterness and resentment in your voice hurt his tainted soul in ways no other person could have. His claws dug even deeper in the wood.

No.

All he wanted was to keep you safe back at the hotel, to ensure no one in this hellish landscape ever laid a finger in your delicate skin. He was just being a good father. You may not understand it, and probably never would. That's irrelevant.

He had found you again after nearly ninety years since that fatidic night when he lost it all, he was not going to allow anybody to take you away from him.

A theory started forming in his twisted mind. You had said that you wanted to live. Alastor was no fool, he knew what the Grimoire could do, in fact he had been dying to take a peek himself. Whatever you had wished, would have probably come true. His grin turned sour.

You had gone where he couldn't follow.

The mortal plane.

Who knew the kind of horrors you were facing up there? The kind of fools that would dare to disrespect the child of one of Hell's most powerful overlords?

He couldn't go there, at least not physically. If he could synchronize his radio frequency with the ones on Earth, he may be able to locate you before some fuckwad up there decided to have their way with you.

"We're on air"

[humanitys-strongest-brat]

Kintsugi - ch. 2

Pairing: Coach!Levi x Injured fem!Reader

CW: major themes of injury, depression, and hopelessness. 18+ minors and ageless blogs dni.

wc: 3.2k

a/n: Reviewed and edited by the lovely @tobbi-loves-levi whom I am endlessly grateful for~

previous chapter / masterlist

Heat radiates up from the pan over your wrist as you cook your breakfast, stirring mindlessly as you lose yourself in thought. The rattle of your phone against the counter interrupts you. Turning the stove on low you flip your phone over from its downward position to see Levi’s contact illuminating the screen. Immediately your chest tightens up. It’s only been two days since you last spoke to him. You let it ring for a few seconds before slowly sliding your thumb across the screen to answer. 

“Hello?” You hold your breath, hoping he doesn’t notice. 

“Morning,” Levi starts, his tone causing your nerves to fray more than they already were. “I reviewed everything you sent over and drew up a recovery plan. If possible, I’d like to go over it in person.” It’s still overwhelming to know just who it is you’re talking to.

“Okay sure.. When?” You ask. 

“Today?�� 

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Moving things along this quickly isn’t exactly what you expected to happen. “Yeah, I can make it in today.” You confirm. 

“Eleven work for you?” He asks. 

You glance over at the clock on the stove, seeing you had more than enough time to get ready “Perfect.” 

“Alright. Sina training center, left wing. My office is on the second floor. I’ll text you the address. See you then.” He hangs up and seconds later your phone buzzes with the address as promised. 

***

Sina Training Center is on the opposite side of town from the arena you trained at for Worlds. Having lived in this city for less than a year you’ve only ever seen it in passing. When you finally find a place to park it’s quite the walk before you make it inside, and when you do you’re shocked by the size of this place. It’s a huge lobby, different areas lead you to sport specific sections of the building. 

You head left and follow the signs that direct you towards the ice sports wing. On your way to the elevator you pass by the large window. Ice is on full display through this window, causing your stomach to tighten. You stop and observe as three girls train with their respective coaches on the ice. An ache grows in your chest as you watch them. 

When you step off the elevator onto the second floor and make your way into the waiting room, there’s a man standing in front of the door that leads to the offices looking down at an iPad. You walk up with the intention of politely getting past him, but when he looks up to face you your heart stops.

That scar is unmistakable. A clean cut that trailed from above his eyebrow all the way down through his lip. Small dots on either side from the stitches even after all this time, and a white glaze over his right eye. Even so, the man in front of you was breathtaking. It was definitely him. 

“Wouldn’t have made it very far,” he breaks the silence causing you to snap out of it, and you definitely feel like an ass for staring. 

“I’m sorry?” 

He quickly shifts to the left of the door revealing a key card scanner, “and I never mentioned which office was mine.” He sounds just like he did on the phone, so.. abstruse? If this wasn’t a professional setting you’d believe he already hated you.

 “Levi.” He states, extending his hand out for you to shake. You can’t help but stare. You’re standing in front of one of the most unrivaled skaters, even the accident couldn’t take that title from him. 

“Nice to meet you.” You finally muster up. He’s silent for a moment, seemingly observing you.  

“Likewise.” He finally says before looking back down and wrapping up whatever it was he was doing on the iPad. He holds it at his hip and digs through his pocket, pulling out a blue lanyard with the training center's logo lined across it, at the end hangs a small white card. “This is yours.” He says. You grab it from him and take a look. It’s a key card with a barcode and your name printed on it. “This will get you into any area designated for skaters, and past this door to my office.” You swear you can hear his voice lift at the second half of that sentence. “Follow me.” You nod as he leads you back into the elevator. Once you’re on the main floor again he points to the rink you passed on your way in. 

“That's the common rink, used for general training and classes.” He explains, leading you in the opposite direction down the hall and stopping at a pair of double doors. He presses his key card against the reader on the wall and quickly walks in as they open. When you follow in behind him, you’re stunned to see another large common area lined with equipment shops and a small snack bar section. To the right are two more ice rinks, one immediately to the right of the door you came in and the other’s entrance on the far wall straight across. “Those are the specialty rinks, I call them the rehab rinks.'' He starts, heading in that direction. “They both serve the same purpose though, one is generally used for the hockey team to train off-season. Eventually, we’ll be over there in the third one.” He gestures for you to follow him inside, scanning his card at the entrance. Your breathing nearly seizes. This is the closest you’ve been to the ice since February. 

“It’s our smallest rink. Reserved specifically for those recovering from injury who need a less congested area to work in.” He walks the edge of the boards with you in tow, eyes glued to the ice the entire time. “Locker rooms.” He says. You almost ran straight into him not noticing he had stopped to point them out. 

Circling back and crossing the large common area with you, he scans his key again. “This is the gym, and past that door is the PT area.” he points past another set of locker rooms. You’re already so overwhelmed, even for you this entire building was so high profile. You felt out of place. “For the next few weeks, we’ll be spending most of our time here.” 

You're so sick of physical therapy and just want to be back on the ice already.

As the two of you walk back out towards the elevators to get to his office, he looks over to you. “Do not use any facility without me there with you for now.” He says, and you can tell he’s serious.

***

Levi pulls a folder from his desk as you sit across from him. “Your current recovery plan is nauseating.” He says bluntly, dropping the folder onto the desk. 

You’re stunned by the quick change in his tone. “Excuse me?” 

“First of all, they set you up for failure before you even left the hospital.” He starts, pulling out printed copies of everything you sent over from the folder. “Ice? Really? Are we still living in the stone ages?” He scoffs “You should have been doing small movements for that ankle since day one, and I don’t see any recommendations here for that.” 

“There wasn’t..” You confirm, eyes so wide they could fall out of your skull. It was hard to believe how involved with your recovery he was, not expecting him to review your progress from day one. You figured he would just pick up along with where you already were. 

“Of course, and you weren’t referred to the proper resources. Standard physical therapy would never have gotten you back on that ice. It’s up to you but I think you’d do better full time here.” He says, shaking his head. “Christ, did your coach do literally anything for you?” 

You wince at the mention of Coach Tarasov, having ghosted her after she drove you home from the hospital. You haven’t reached out since, positive it’s too late now. Getting a new coach was just another thing you’d have to do to get yourself back up. “I didn’t really give her the chance to..” 

Levi hummed in response. “You moved on from basic balance too fast, that’s why you’re struggling so badly now. Balance is the most important part of this, you’re a figure skater. We’ll start our assessments there.” 

“I don’t have the time to start over.” You reply immediately. 

“Do you think you’ll have time when this happens again because you re-injured yourself?” He asks flatly and the question sinks deep. “You won’t, and we’re not starting over. I’m assessing where we are now.” 

We. 

“Okay.. you’re right.” You exhale and let yourself lean back into the chair. 

“I know I am.” He pulls all of the pages back together and slips them back inside your folder. “Three days a week. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, seven to eight?” He asks as if it were a question. 

“Yes, that works.” You affirm. This was your only option and you had a feeling he knew that too.

He nods and pulls another packet out, sliding it towards you. “Review and sign these.” He says. Flipping through it you recognise it’s the plan he just went over with you, and you sign when prompted. He reaches his hand beside his computer and slides you another white card. “For the parking garage.” 

*** 

The next day you park in the garage and it’s a much easier walk inside, considering it happens to be attached to the skating wing of the training center. You scan your way in and head through the gym, and into the physical therapy room once you throw your stuff into a locker. 

When you walk into the room you see Levi talking to what you assume to be another employee. He’s tall, muscular, blond. It looks like he’s actually enjoying their conversation. The discussion seems to stop when Levi’s eyes find you, and he gestures for you to follow him. Racing to catch up with him, you see the man eye the both of you before turning to leave. 

“Who's that?” Curiosity gets the best of you. 

“Erwin, he’s a personal trainer in another wing.” Levi responds without delay. “Sometimes comes and bothers me between appointments.” As harsh as that sounded, you could tell it came from a place of adoration.

Levi has you sit down after taking your shoes off. You’ve been here before, it’s the same place you got assessments done the first time. You watch as he kneels down and sets the tablet beside him on the mat, gently pressing his thumbs into the front of your ankle and asking you to move your foot in several directions. He feels like a different person in this room than he was in the office or on the phone. He’s gentle and precise, jotting down notes in between every test he does, and making sure you’re comfortable. He's way more involved than your last therapist and you haven’t even gotten past the assessment. 

“Let’s try something.” Getting back onto his feet, he walks across the room and grabs an object from the ground. You immediately recognize it as a balance board. It’s a flat square board with a rounded bottom. He places it down on the floor and gestures you over. “Go ahead and step up here.” He reaches his hand out for you to grab. You nervously place your hand in his and step onto the board with your left foot, relying on Levi to support you while you find your balance. 

“Great.” He encourages, his tone setting off tiny flutters in your stomach as you attempt to balance yourself. He takes a small step back, seamlessly supporting the weight you’re pushing onto his hand. “I’m going to let go, see how you do here.” He says and waits for you to center yourself before slowly pulling away. He continues to hold his hands out in front of you, palms facing up so you can hover yours above incase you need help with balancing. 

Immediately after he retracts his hand your ankle shakes, a reminder of just how far behind you are. A few seconds later discomfort takes over, sending a sting up the inside of your leg. You let your fingertips fall onto his, your eye twitches as you try to avoid relying on him for balance. 

“How does that feel?” 

“It kind of hurts.”

“Stop.” He grabs your hand and helps you back down off the board. “Then we aren’t there yet.” He comments, jotting the notes down quickly. 

You let out a sigh, this is what you meant when you said you couldn’t afford to start over. “I should be on the board by now.” You think out loud. 

“Not if it hurts.” He quips, letting the iPad rest against his hip from the strap hanging off his shoulder. “If you can’t balance on that board you won’t be able to balance on a blade.” 

“I’ve been in therapy for weeks,” your thoughts quickly spiral, having the determination to recover means nothing if your body works so hard against you. “If I can’t get back on the ice by-“ 

“I’ll get you back on the ice.” 

Your thoughts lapse. The way he said it with such certainty makes you want to believe him that much more. 

“Look, I told you your last program was shit,” he sounds like he’s trying to be comforting “it’s not going to happen overnight, and definitely not with that attitude.” 

You don’t know how to respond to that. You know he’s right. Again. 

Levi leads you to the center of the room for mobility stretches, another exercise you’re more than familiar with. He watches as you shift your weight onto your right leg and tip your left foot outward, it doesn’t hurt but the pull is uncomfortable. You inhale harshly through your nose, pushing further against the strain. 

“Don’t force it.” Levi instructs, keeping a close eye on your form. 

You switch from stretching to the side to stretching your ankle forward. After going back and forth between the two for about 5 minutes Levi stops you again, moving on to the stationary board for heel lifts. You step up and let your heels hang off the back of the board, every raise has your ankle shaking. You watch Levi in the mirror in front of you, he has a peculiar look on his face. He slowly kneels down behind you to watch closely as you continue to rise up and down on the board. 

“Stop, get down.” Levi says firmly.

You oblige, immediately stepping back down onto the padded floor. Levi picks up the tablet and starts quickly swiping across the screen, eyebrows raised and lips pressed in a flat line. 

“Your old therapist,” he starts, still quickly filing through pages on the iPad, “did they massage that ankle.” 

“No.” You confirm his suspicions. 

“��Course they didn’t.” He mumbles, rolling his eyes as he lets the iPad fall back down against his side. “It’s stiff.” He’s already walking back toward the tables.

You follow behind him nervously, sitting up on the table when prompted. You watch as he methodically washes his hands in a nearby sink. When he comes back he tells you to lay back. He stands at the end of the table, gently bending your foot toward him. You chew the inside of your lip as he slips his hand under your heel, pressing his thumb gently behind your ankle bone and guiding the pressure up. Your breath catches at the slight discomfort but it's slowly replaced by a sense of relief. He continues in that same upward direction, adding a gentle circular motion after a few moments. You turn your head away, fidgeting with your shirt as your heart rate seems to accelerate. 

You aren't sure what it is about him. From the moment you knew you’d be working with him it’s all you could think about. At first you chalked it up to admiration. Maybe it was the way he cared, even underneath all the dry conversation and formalities you could tell. Or maybe it’s the way he carries himself. Could be that he’s stunning, like a sunset that perfectly contrasts a clear blue sky. Even now, when he's right in front of you he takes up your mind. Just when you entertain it, imagine his hand sliding up your leg–

“Let’s try again.” His voice startles you out of your thoughts. 

You stand back on the board and Levi kneels down again. You lift up once more and your eyes widen slightly. Not only has the discomfort decreased but your ankle doesn’t shake as bad. It’s not perfect, you still feel the tightness and resistance. That last thing you expected was to make progress during your first session with him. You snap your attention to him, back on the tablet adding data. The corner of his lip upturned in a subtle smirk like he just found the last missing piece of an unfinished puzzle. 

“It was healing stiff.” He comments, switching you to another exercise. “You’re lucky we caught it when we did.” 

“It’s reversible?” You ask, but it comes out as more of a plea. 

“It is.” he confirms. You leave the session that day with a detailed print out of exercises from Levi, instructed to do them in the afternoon of your session days and twice a day otherwise. 

That night as you do them, his voice echoes in your thoughts 

I’ll get you back on the ice.

***

From that point on, your sessions start with a fifteen minute meticulous ankle massage. By the end of the first two weeks you can hold your balance on one foot for thirty seconds with minimal shaking.

Throughout your third week you make miraculous progress. You’re up to forty five seconds of balance on one foot, and painless single heel lifts off the floor and the stationary balance board. 

The last 10 minutes of your Friday session Levi has you balance on one foot and places a tennis ball down directly in front of you. 

“Pick it up.” 

You nod, extending your leg behind you as you slowly bend your knee. Once you have the ball in your hand you slowly rise back up, placing it back in Levi’s hand. He shifts over, setting the ball down to your right. Again, you lower yourself down and back up on one foot with ease. One last time he sets the ball down to your left. When you drop it back in his hand you bring your elevated foot back down to stay stable. He lets out a satisfied huff and walks away, returning with the balance board from a few weeks back and drops it down. He helps you up and this time you pull away from him, quick to neutralize your weight. You make it look easy now.

“Not bad.” His tone sounds indifferent but he has that same look in his eyes, he has it every time you hit a milestone. 

Like every win is yours to share.

On your way out, Levi stops to face you. He opens his mouth to say something but quickly closes it again, seeming to second guess himself. “See you next week.” 

Taglist: @amywritesthings @littlerequiem @humanitys-strongest-bamf @hideandgopeep 

@thechaoticarchivist @sixpennydame 

[itoshi-s]

˚୨୧⋆ 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑢𝑝 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑢𝑝 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒

anon requested: yandere!rin + baby trapping // no lukewarm love v-day event !

wc: 3k. cw: nsfw, dark content, noncon (forced breeding), dead dove don't eat, unprotected sex, slight obsessive behavior but. what's new ꒰ minors + ageless blogs dni ꒱

as the sunlight seeps through the curtains - mellow and warm despite having risen just barely an hour or two ago - rin notices how pretty you look.

he's observant. always has been, especially on the field, but his eyes seem to be the sharpest when it's you they are scrutinizing. as he sits at the couch and digs his spoon into his oatmeal, he does exactly that - watches you, closely and quietly, something you've grown used to already during the past two years you've been together. you don't pay his gaze no mind as you pad around the living room, taking your time, having nowhere to rush just yet.

(you only ever wake up this early to spend just a bit more time with him before he leaves for his morning practice, giving up two hours of precious sleep you could indulge in. you're selfless, and rin appreciates- loves it.)

licking the spoon clean and letting it rest against his lips for a moment, rin takes note on how bright and smooth the delicate skin under your eyes looks. there's no trace of the grey undertones left, even though you haven't picked up any new skincare routine. the soft planes of your tummy look just a little less swollen, too, and you sigh happily when the button of your jeans pops into place with no resistance at all. there's more of that content smile he knows and adores and less of the mood swings that had his own annoyance spiking all too often.

as you join him on the couch, he glances towards your morning cup of coffee. you must not be feeling so fatigued all the time anymore, too, 'cause it seems you just opted out of the extra espresso shot in your lattes.

"how are you feeling?" rin asks, putting the bowl down on the table and instead pulling your feet into his lap. he massages up your calves gently as you hum questioningly.

"hm, good. why?" you take a sip of the warm beverage, fingers wrapping around the glass.

you look a little confused, not entirely caught up on what made him ask. the noiret tilts his head, fingers drumming along your shin.

"well, it's three weeks since you got off the pill," he points out, turquoise gaze following the way your mouth parts in realization. "the side effects are gone, aren't they? you look like you're doing better."

the fact rin has also noticed all the little signs you've grown aware of these past few days makes your heart flutter. it was obvious the recent form of contraception wasn't the best fit for you - well, you're pretty sure you could check off at least half of the listed side effects on the horrendously extensive leaflet. it'd be in fact impossible not to notice the sudden mood swings or lack of vigor, the excess water retention... instead, it's the way he spots the symptoms lessening that makes you giddy with endearment.

to be fair, it's only been a couple days since you picked up on it. (how does he do it so quickly? you're not sure.)

"oh- yup. it's a lot better now. i think it's finally wearing off for good." you set the mug down right next to rin's bowl, moving to straddle his lap instead. it must be muscle memory by this point, the way his hands move to rest on your hips before you even settle comfortably. "i kind of want to take a little break before i try anything else, though," you mumble and rin hums in acknowledgement.

you glance towards his face, lips quirking up when you're met with the all too familiar sparkle behind your boyfriend's gaze. you snicker, flicking his forehead.

"so-" you chuckle breathily when he leans in, nipping at your jaw in playful retaliation, "-we've gotta be careful."

it's a no-brainer to the both of you. of course you have to be extra cautious. you've established your views on parenthood back in the early stages of your relationship, the topic coming back around every few months - but nothing has changed since the first time you got around discussing it. you've got all the time in the world - three or four more seasons, maybe, or until you're finished doing your masters degree.

it's all clear, really. obvious.

"f'course, baby."

but you're too good, and it slowly drives rin up the wall where he cannot escape the dull ache in his chest anymore, yearning for more, all of it, all of you.

you're the greatest thing to happen to him - he never doubted that. it shows in the way you lean up on your tiptoes, pressing the sweetest kisses to his lips when he's about to step out the door; leaving little notes in his lunchboxes, always signed off with a little heart, something to bring a smile to his lips as he reaches for his after workout meal. you're sweet, always waiting up for him even when practice runs long - eyes drowsy and cheeks warm as you greet him at the door, arms wrapping around his waist. you're addicting when leaving half crescent moons along his silky skin, grabbing at his broad frame in euphoria as you hiccup his name like it's the only thing you know.

you're scaring him, too, you know?

a loop tightens around the throbbing muscle deep in his chest, threatening to snap and leave him scrambling to put the pieces back together when you first mention applying abroad for your postgraduate studies.

"i hope i get in." you say softly, voice a steady hum and you don't even look up from your laptop as you speak. maybe if you did, you'd notice the hurt written all over rin's face - a betrayal of sorts, that makes his pupils shrink and brows furrow in confusion.

he's being unfair. he knows - he's not stupid, never has been. you've packed your bags and left your former life behind as soon as he mentioned getting a better club offer. not even once did you make him feel bad about it. you never whined nor complained and perhaps, it's exactly what made rin's love for you grow so much stronger. you only ever saw it as a new opportunity, plenty new possibilities opening right before the both of you - you were happy for him, god, you were so proud.

why can't he bring himself to feel the same?

it seems unreasonable to him at first. you'll only have to leave every two weeks, just for the weekends, and since money's never the problem as long as he's around, you'll take the private jet, too, if that means you get home faster. it's not like you're leaving him, lonely in this ridiculously huge penthouse that feels all too overwhelming when he's the only one in it.

but up until this point, you've been gracing him with so much of your attention and time, each and every day, that the thought of anything else taking up a chunk of it makes his heart sink.

there's plenty of ways to stifle this irrational fear. (talking it out, for starters. but rin's not good at that, you know it, he knows it.) this, though, might be the one that'll work best.

should he feel bad? regretful, maybe, for what he's putting you through? probably, yeah, but it's not like the way your pussy creams around him and sucks him in deep allows any sort of sober thinking, anyway.

a guttural groan rips through rin's throat, forehead clammy as it presses against yours, lips gleaming with spit from where they're an inch shy from locking with your own. sinewy thighs tense with each ruthless thrusts that send you jerking upwards and grabbing onto his bicep desperately.

you sob his name so sweetly, whimpers bubbling from your parted lips, chanting quiet pleas for more. it's quickly muffled by rin's tongue as he drinks the honeyed sounds right up, lapping at your mouth. rin is always almost too much to handle - overbearing every sense, seeping into every cell, making every synapse spark with scorching hot pleasure. tonight, it almost seems like he's worse. his hips slam against yours, bones bruising one another when he presses deeper, changing the angle so that there's not an inch denied of your warmth. a milky white, creamy ring forms at the very base of rin's girth, a mess from your juices and previous orgasms, and creates the lewd shlick sound that cuts through the humid air with each firm thrust.

"ah- hah! rin, rin," you whine, lashes sticking together from unconscious tears, head lulling to the side as you gasp. "good- s' good, please- !"

the man only grunts in response, breath hitching deep in his chest and he struggles slightly to retrieve it between forceful strokes, "yeah? feels good, yeah, baby?" rin utters the praise right against your jaw, fingers digging into the and slipping to grab your cheeks instead, glistening with tears and spit.

sharply, he pulls back, merely a few inches but just enough to take a look at your face, contorted in ecstasy. he eyes you closely, breath mingling with your own from the close proximity, and there's nothing short of formidable simmering behind those pretty teal hues. jet black pupils swallow you whole, blown until the familiar teal only shines like a halo, crazed but pretty as ever.

"you gonna cum, hm? show me, c'mon, be good, fuck- be my good girl." and when he speaks, he's not asking, not coaxing you - demanding is the best way to put it, and it has you shuddering underneath his weight, draped over your frame like you've got nowhere to run from the white hot pleasure he's feeding you.

your jaw aches and eyes roll back, almost crossing over, as your tongue lolls out deliriously. rin's cheeks blister with arousal and for a second, his rhythm falters and mind blanks, hard cock twitching inside of you with need. he only forces a shaky breath, one hand hurriedly reaching for one of your ankles that digs into his lower back, the other soon following.

rin doesn't struggle one bit in hauling your legs up, the sheer strength of corded muscle flexing against your nails, bluntly digging into the flesh of his biceps still. for a second, it doesn't seem like you catch up on what's happened - not even when your knees knock against your chest and ass lifts off the soaked mattress just slightly - until you gasp for breath feverishly, fingers tightening on his arm. with another stroke forward, rin's cock reaches deep and fills you up to the hilt. it's too much, so much, he's so deep - you're sure you can feel him all the way up in your tummy, and the realization, as erotic and lewd as it is, tears a blubbery whine from your mouth and causes your eyes to widen.

he almost feels sorry for you as the incoherent, treacly mewls come tumbling out with each frenzied, shallow breath. his large hands grab behind your knees, fingers digging into the doughy flesh of your thighs and he uses the position as a leverage of sorts, only pressing your trembling frame further into the bed. you're pliable, soft and out of your mind, fucked dumb at the end of his weeping cock - and fuck, you're so pretty, this is not enough.

it's not enough until he has all of you, rin thinks, head heavy with the frenzy of thoughts that seem to send jolts of electricity right down to where your bodies meet. his balls tighten, pulling into his body and he groans, slipping one of his hands to rest at the small of your back instead, the other settling in it's righteous place around your jugular.

"o-oh-" you yelp, hands scrambling to grab at his wrist. "pl-please, rin, m'gonna cum, gonna cum-"

the flickering stars behind your eyes and sickly sweet pleas give it away. you're close, he can tell, from the warmth oozing around the base of his cock and irregular, sinful throbbing of your slick walls. he's breathless, dark green strands matted to his forehead with sweat as he searches for your eyes.

he wants to see you, wants to watch.

"go on," rin coaxes, voice a gravelly tune that has the ache in your tummy growing stronger. "cum for me, pretty, yeah? fuck- cum with me, hm?"

blood rushes into your ears when the hand digging into your back slips to the front, thumb finding your swollen clit with ease. euphoria seeps into every struggling breath as rin's grip tightens and finger starts sloppily rubbing circles on the hardened nub. and it's heavenly, has your brain turning to mush until he presses his lips to your cheek, uttering nonsense and grunting and you realize-

"rin- rin, out-" you drawl, hips bucking against his hand and toes curling at the side of his head, "p-pull out,"

through the thick haze of your mind, you make out the way rin's chest presses against yours, trapping you under more of his weight. panic settles in your chest when you feel his fingers flex around your neck, pushing your head further into the pillows and successfully knocking the breath right out your aching lungs. one of your hand scrambles to push at his chest to no avail.

"don't," he chokes out, pubic bone rutting against your mound, digging his thumb harder against your abused clit. "gonna take care of you, make you feel- good, ah, make you feel s' good, promise." he grits his teeth, urges every muscle to push harder, until your hips jolt underneath his and bed creaks all too loud at the sheer force of his thrusts.

you sound almost in pain, rin realizes. you always do when folded so pretty under his body, ankles shaking on top of his shoulders and head thrashing backwards. yet this time, as he hungrily takes in the look on your face, there's something else he recognizes in your eyes, glossed over with crystalline tears that soon slip down the reddened flesh of your cheeks.

(he doesn't like the thought of it being fear.)

"let me." he breathes, as if he's given you any choice, and ruts himself into you sloppily, thumb reaching up your jaw to stuff between your lips, parted in teary pleads. spit bubbles past the corner of your mouth and around the digit as he forces it further down.

your legs quiver, jerking against the sturdy muscle of rin's chest and to your horror, the cotton between your ears only grows thicker, a white noise that slowly overtakes every sense. your limbs feel heavy, limp underneath rin's weight, and there's no way you're fighting back the piercing heat that builds deep in your core.

"pl- pw'ease, r-in," you're crying. the realization hits him and only adds fuel to this twisted desire that crawls up his back and spurs him on to pound into you harder, split your writhing tight body open on his cock until you break and tremble and-

somewhere between the tight circles he draws on your clit, you tense up, back arching and thighs jostling against his front as you wail. he swallows all the broken moans that drip out your swollen mouth, licks at your tongue as his thumb forces your jaw open some more - feeds on the salty aftertaste your tears have left, and fuck, rin might just feel like crying, too, you know? how could he not, when you're giving him those starry eyes, dumbfounded and wide before they roll backwards in euphoria?

the coil in his gut finally snaps and he groans, guttural sounds bleeding into something more of a shattered whine as he pounds into you. it takes two, three more snaps of his hips before he bottoms out, quads crammed against the back of your thighs as finally, he's spilling himself inside of you. it's too much, has rin's body jostling at the electricity that sears down his abdomen with each thick, heavy spurt right against your cervix. he gasps and allows his mouth to fall open, teal eyes frantic as they search for your face through thick noir lashes. you cannot move, not an inch, not even as you push at the broad of his chest in frail attempts to make some space.

he doesn't even budge. if anything, that helpless little fit of yours only made his cock twitch to life again, mere seconds after he has barely caught his breath from possibly one of the hardest orgasms he's ever had. still, he collapses on top of you, earning himself a squeal from where you're folded underneath him, and gives one last groan before pressing his face in your neck, warm and pulsating with your erratic heartbeat.

rin gently eases his hands around your thighs, pulling them from underneath his body, and slowly, steadily moves them to wrap around his lithe waist instead. you whimper, the dull ache settling in, and yet it's nothing compared to the hole that starts to dig itself in your chest. bitter realization starts to make itself home right in the raw tear, gnawing at every thread of confusion that loops around your heart - tightening with each huff of breath rin exhales into your neck.

"rin-" you start, voice breaking midway and eyes blinking once, bleary with hesitation. you feel him move from his spot, lifting his head to meet your gaze.

the silence is deafening, ringing in your ears and settling heavy on your shoulders. when rin hushes you, pressing his lips to yours and tilting his hips forward again, you think that you actually like the eerie quiet better than his voice.

"don't." he mutters, hand reaching up to grab at the soft fat of your cheeks.

you don't have it in you to protest.

© itoshi-s. do not plagiarize, repost as your own or mention on other sm platforms.

[chaos-in-deepspace]

L&DS Xavier: Promise Me | Drabble

Since I forgot to upload yesterday I'm popping two of these in today. This has a little angst, something I say I never write but lbr I love making people feel things. Hope you enjoy this because it's still cute and fluffy.

Pairing: Xavier x Reader Warning: Angst + Comfort Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Xavier

Xavier flinches, his entire body recoiling from your touch. You had a cotton ball doused in alcohol, and a rather pissed off look at the moment. Xavier had come to your apartment, half dead, and you had of course taken him and dragged him to the couch. This wasn’t the first time and certainly wouldn’t be the last time this happened.

You were just happy he actually came to you. He used to just go to his apartment when he was in this condition and would visit once he was better and all cleaned up. This had only managed to piss you off due to how often you’d be waiting for him to return from a mission, never knowing if he was safe or not. You were certain this man had aged you ten years in the time you’d been dating him.

“Perhaps if you were more careful, or better yet brought back up, this wouldn’t be happening,” you scolded him, grabbing another thing of gauze to wrap around him. You knew he healed fast in his sleep, but you also knew he managed to heal even faster if someone took the time to treat his wounds first.

“I’m so-ow,” he was cut off from his apology as you almost dug the thing of cotton into him. You didn’t want to hear it as you went back to cleaning and wrapping, something that was almost second nature to you at this point.

“I’m just worried…” you said with a small frown on your lips. You took a moment to gather your thoughts and cleared your throat, “I’m worried that one day your injuries are going to be too much and you’re not going to come back to me,” you admitted finally.

Xavier seemed taken aback by this, watching how your eyebrows furrowed in worry and how you looked away from him. A small pout was on your lips and he sighed. He took his hand and grabbed your chin, moving you to face him. He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, murmuring his next words.

“I promise I’ll always come back to you,” his voice was almost a whisper but you still heard it clear as day. You didn’t even know when your eyes began to tear up, small droplets falling down your cheek as you sniffled.

Xavier seemed to take note of this and was almost cooing as he grabbed you and dragged you closer to him; you were now settled on his lap as he pressed another kiss to your cheek, then another. He grabbed your hand, pressing his lips to your knuckles as he looked up at you through his silvery bangs.

“I won’t leave you. Not now, not ever. Please believe me,” his voice seemed to almost crack as he tried keeping it steady and calm, knowing if he showed too much emotion right now it would only send you spiraling even more. There was an empty pit in the bottom of your stomach as your mind swirled with the worse case scenarios.

“How can you promise that…how can you be so sure?” you asked and he sighed, putting your face into the crook of his neck as he rocked a little with you in his arms.

“Because as long as you remain on this earth, then so shall I,” he said, his breath fanning over your ear as he said those words. Your hands were pressed against his chest, your nails gently scraping over the skin, a small reminder that he really was there with you.

“If I go with you, at least I know you’re safe…please take me along next time,” you finally said, managing to even out your voice as the tears stopped for the time being. He felt so warm and safe and you wished you could just stay like this for a little longer.

“I can’t take you to some of these places,” he reminded you gently, his hand on your back as he rubbed soothing circles there.

“Then don’t just disappear next time. Let me know where you’ll be,” you said, almost angry now that he had once again left on a mission without saying a word to his partner.

“I will, I promise,” he settled on after a moment, pulling away so he could cup your cheek in his hand. He brought you down for a kiss and you melted into it. After a second he parted, “I’ll keep you updated, but you need to do the same for me.,”

You nodded your head before leaning in for another quick kiss, “Alright, I promise,”

Gods I can't believe I'm actually willing to wake up too fucking early just to see a livestream and find out who Sylus is...wish me luck in actually waking up because you're boi is not a fucking morning person.

[kirby-manga-translated]

It’s Kirby Time - Book 9 English Translation + An Update on Blog Happenings

HAPPY NEW YEAR!! IT'S HEEEEERE!! A truly adorable story about Kirby and Meta Knight deciding to spend some alone time and the activities they like to do during that time. Featuring beautiful illustrations painstakingly cleaned up by myself, this one is a must-read for fans of the relationship between Kirby and Meta Knight. Read the full thing at the links below:

Imgur

MangaDex

Google Drive

...But wait, there's more! Because the illustrations are so pretty, here's a link to a folder containing just those illustrations with no text at all! https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/19z8WLah-ZGES2jnyZOILJKc9kE75Wvs9?usp=drive_link (I'm probably also gonna make a post featuring all these images on their own soon.)

Finally, I have an update regarding the blog. tl;dr, I'm definitely gonna keep doing translations, but the rate at which they are completed and uploaded is most likely going to change soon. I don't know by how much or even if it will be positive or negative. For a more detailed explanation, click the Keep Reading.

So, I got a job! *audience cheers* But the job does not involve translating Kirby manga. *audience "aww"s* Ordinarily I wouldn't get more specific than that since I try to avoid revealing too much about my personal life, but in this case the explanation won't make much sense unless I do, so: The job entails working on fishing boats. This means that there isn't really a set daily schedule or even a weekly schedule. When the boats are fishing, I'm working, and when they're not, I have next to nothing to do.

I've been told by many people that I should expect a lot of down time for that reason, so I'll definitely have time to work on translations. However, I can't predict exactly how much I get and I also most likely won't have an internet connection on the boat. All this is to say that I literally do not know how this is going to affect the rate of translations on this blog beyond just, "It's going to change." I could find that I have so much down time on the boat that translating is the only thing that keeps me sane and I actually get more done. I could find that the boat I'm on is a super-busy one and I get barely any time at all. And regardless of which one of those happens, I won't be able to actually upload anything until the boat gets back into port, which is entirely dependent on how long it takes for the boat to catch all the fish it needs.

The job doesn't start for a couple weeks yet, so I'm gonna try to fulfill a few more requested chapters before then. Once again: I'm definitely going to keep translating, I just don't know how often I'll actually be able to do it. So enjoy this translation, look forward to more coming in the future, and please wish me luck both in my work and in getting time to translate!

[matrixbearer2024]

Since the poll is practically over and the outfit's largely been decided, I'll be dropping the first post to the strip challenge in a couple hours on my Ford Blog @gftimelord to christen it HAHAHHA- (psst go bother him it'll be funny HAHHAHAH) Thanks for the interaction everybody, I only hope to deliver. Here's the first drabble to start it off with since I am pairing every drawing with a story sequence as promised. You could probably think of this as my interpretation for some kind of continuation to Ford's route in "Swooning Over Stans" by @gfdatingsim since I've genuinely been non-stop playing that game since it's recommendation to me. I will balance med proper and my delulu if it's the last thing I do HAHAHAHA-

Reply to this post as well if you want to be pinged for whenever this challenge updates!

I Accept Your Challenge!

(Stanford Pines x Reader)

After you heard a new challenge becoming trendy among couples you decide to try it on a certain Stanford Pines; just... you didn't exactly explain to him what the challenge was.

Maybe his competitiveness was a good thing in this case. You at least got a bloody good show out of his cluelessness.

Another slow summer day and you were in the living room of the mystery shack alongside the Pines as they went about doing whatever. Navigating your relationship with a certain scientist definitely somewhat of a learning curve but you digressed. Similar to Dipper and Mabel, you'd receive post cards from the twins about their seafaring adventures; your mail just came with additional special letters from your beloved. All of which you'd neatly stowed away in a bag that you always had with you, no use keeping it at home when you were rarely there.

Often traveling for a nomadic lifestyle was serene and fun at times, but you found yourself missing this place. It felt more like a home to you than your own place did in the couple weeks you'd stuck around after your car got smashed into the side of the log cabin.

Who knew that the same man who totaled your car one day would be the same adorable nerd you now called your lover?

It felt a bit like those romance dramas Stan liked to watch but you quickly dismissed that thought. Fairytales weren't real, fate isn't exactly something you believed in either. Stories of princesses finding their prince charmings were mostly smoke and mirrors, things you'd tell a child to give them hope of a better world than reality.

In gravity falls however... you quickly learned that nothing was truly impossible. Never say never in this small town of Oregon.

You sat on the floor next to Dipper and Mabel as they boredly flipped through TV channels; books, papers and crayons littered about around the three of you. The glass danced with colors from the rapidly flipping images while the twins struggled to find anything even remotely entertaining to watch, you couldn't help but allow your mind to wander from the boredom.

You and Ford spent quite a bit of time since you'd arrived at the beginning of the week, frankly you'd made the trip as soon possible when Stan shot you a message that they'd finally docked to spend the summer with the kiddos. You hoped it wasn't all that obvious how much you missed Stanford, but you didn't really need to worry when he was the one who immediately swamped you up in a hug the second you were out of your car. It's only been two years thus far since you've known the man but Stanley and Mabel insisted that you stay with him in his room, you didn't know why they were so adamant until you saw the state of the man's living quarters.

A whole day was spent with the both of you furnishing and cleaning the said room because of that but neither of you complained, most of the time was spent goofing off anyway.

Now... you were wondering where Ford was, not to mention what he was doing. Was he down in the lab tinkering again? You didn't want to disturb him, but you really wanted to find him. Any time spent apart didn't feel like time used to it's full capacity, even if you did enjoy the company of the other Pines; it just wasn't the same.

At some point, you were bored enough to not necessarily care whether you'd be disturbing Ford's work or not when you went down to the lab. It was just last summer when he taught you how to get down there, as well as spilling more about his past. All of which you simply listened to unless he asked anything; it was better to listen and attempt to understand than say or do something that would make it worse.

Seems like he really wanted to get it off his chest too, be transparent with you; something you appreciated.

You were shaken out of your headspace when you heard the rustling of boxes from the lab, as well as some hushed but frustrated cursing. You didn't really recall a time Ford swore unless he was legitimately ticked off, the man made a valiant effort not to compared to his twin.

But they both had sailor mouths anyhow even if it was fitting.

"Ford? Are you down here?"

"Ah-! [Y/N]! What- what are you doing down here?"

You moved closer to him in an attempt to see what he was doing, even if the man looked a bit rattled to be found like this by you.

"What are you doing?"

"I asked first my dear."

Ford chuckled, shifting to hide something behind his back. You pouted at him and crossed your arms. He couldn't help but smile at how cute you looked doing that.

"Was looking for you, Dipper and Mabel are bored watching TV upstair anyway... sooooo- what are you doing?"

You smiled when Ford returned your inquisitiveness with a small laugh, showing you what he held in his hand. A pair of goggles?

"What's that for?"

"I was attempting to sort through which of my belongings I could still use among the ones I wish to discard. Inadvertently I ended up finding these, I think I could still make use of them."

You tilted your head at him as a silent prompt to continue, it took every bit of control from Ford not to laugh again. You looked like a curious puppy, though he figured he shouldn't say that outright.

"It's simply among the items I collected and kept with me through my time in the multiverse. Protective eyewear can be useful for many things."

"Huh, if you have that— does it mean you still have the rest of the outfit?"

Now it was your turn to think Ford was being cute, he just wordlessly blinked at you in surprise. Was your request really that odd? You'd barely seen him in any other outfit combinations, of course you'd be curious.

"I—... I think I do? Why do you ask?"

"Do you think you'd still be able to rock it like you used to?"

"'Used to'? Excuse me?"

"I mean, it's been a couple years... why don't you try it on again?"

Ford laughed once again from your teasing, the way you sassily tried to goad him on was entertaining in it's own right. He was a bit on the fence about the whole outfit however, especially due to the memories associated with it.

It's not that bad compared to some things he'd found though... maybe he could indulge you.

"Hm..."

"I-I mean, if you really don't want to—"

Your panicked stammering was cut short when a warm palm cupped your cheek, meeting Stanford's eyes as he pressed a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. He could feel your skin heat in up in his hand, hiding a cheeky smile in your hair as he held you there.

"I'll show it to you... as soon as I can find the rest of the outfit."

Ford couldn't help but smile wider when your cheerful laugh rang out; it's the best sound to ever have graced his ears in the time he's been alive. A bit surprising given how many things he's been exposed to, but he couldn't name another chime so pleasant.

"I'll hold you to that Ford."

"And I accept your challenge my dear."

YEAAAAH HERE IT ISSSS- TEXT THING CUZ WE NEED INTRODUCTION-

[honeyedclementine]

what happened?

sevika x f!reader, established relationship fluff, s2 act1 spoilers ( drabble ) ageless blogs, minors, and men dni

reply to be added to my tag list ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

the last thing you expect sevika to come home with one day is a child. jinx you had grown used to—she had been around more and more often ever since silco's death. sevika claimed not to like it, but you could see how soft she had grown towards the young woman, taking her under her wing the same way silco did all those years ago.

you had known they were going on some sort of mission—something to do with jinx's sister, but sevika never offered much more information than that and you didn't want to pry. even so, you stayed up to make sure sevika got home safely anyway. she always told you not to, but you never listened. you had a sneaking suspicion she liked coming home after a tough day to you sitting on the couch, waiting to hold her.

what you hadn't expected tonight, though, was for sevika to come home with a passed out jinx in her arms and a small child clinging to her shoulders. if not for the distressed look on your girlfriend's face, you would have chuckled at the young girl clinging to her like a jungle gym.

"her finger needs bandaged, bad," sevika says in lieu of a greeting, laying jinx down on the couch. she's so pale and sullen she looks nearly dead. you would almost believe it if not for the steady rise and fall of her chest. "this is isha."

"hi, isha," you speak softly as sevika places the girl gently on the ground. you reach for the medkit, lifting jinx's bloody hand only to find the absence of a finger. you don't ask.

the young girl—isha, you now know, watches with rapt attention as you clean jinx's wound and apply pressure in an attempt to staunch the bleeding before you bandage it. you've spent many nights patching up sevika, it was only natural the courtesy would extend to jinx as well.

sevika paces around the living room, occasionally shooting worried glances over to jinx. she'd never admit out loud that she cared for the girl, sevika was stubborn like that—it had taken months of you two sleeping together and staying the night at each others' places for her to finally admit she felt something about you, but since then, you had slotted into each other's lives so naturally. you can see the same reluctance with jinx, but you know the woman has viewed jinx as more and more of a daughter over the years, whether she likes it or not.

"what happened?" you finally dare to ask as you wrap what's left of jinx's finger with careful hands. you can see bruises forming on sevika's torso and face, along with what looks like a bite mark on her hand that you don't ask about. you're just grateful her arm is in tact—sevika had been in a sour mood a few weeks ago when she had come home with half an arm following an attack from jinx's sister.

"siblings," sevika grunts in response, settling down on the couch and pulling jinx's head softly into her lap while you work. isha immediately clings to sevika's leg, not saying anything, but casting nervous glances over towards jinx. you wonder if the little girl speaks at all.

with jinx's finger now bandaged, you rise to your feet and lean over sevika, saying, "let me take a look at you."

she shies away from your touch as you reach for her cheek, "i'm fine, don't worry about me."

"you should know by now that telling me not to worry about you is like telling me not to breathe," you retort, running your fingers along the scars on her cheek. "what about the little one? she doing okay? she isn't talking."

"doesn't talk," sevika grunts, tugging the girl up and onto her lap. isha smiles, a light giggle falling from her lips. you've never been one for children, but something about seeing sevika—a paragon of strength and brutality, be so gentle with someone so little, really does it for you. "jinx knows how to communicate with her, but she's... well..."

"she'll be fine," you reassure her, finding the silent question in sevika's words. "i'll keep an eye on the bleeding overnight, you just rest. you all seem to need it."

sevika sighs, looking down at isha before rustling her hair. you watch with a gentle smile. she rises from the couch, letting jinx's head fall gently against the pillow as isha climbs up and clings to her shoulder with sevika's metal arm supporting her.

she leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead. "thank you."

"it's what you keep me around for," you muse, a hand clinging softly to her forearm.

"i keep you around because i love you," she reminds you, pressing a kiss to your lips as if to drive the point home.

"i love you, too. now go get some rest." you shoo the two of them off to the bedroom, resigning yourself to a night of looking after jinx.

after maybe half an hour, you decide to take a peek into the bedroom out of pure curiosity. lingering in the doorway, you see sevika splayed out on the bed as she so often does, isha tucked soundly into the crux of her arm. the sight warms you heart more than you thought possible. with jinx still snoring softly on the couch, you marvel at the small family that seems to have crafted itself around you.

knowing sevika sleeps like the dead, you take a moment to sneak a kiss to her forehead while she sleeps, running a gentle finger over her scars. you swear, in the dark of your shared bedroom, you see her smile.

tag list: @puppyels @njm63522 @fict1onallyobsessed

[missmonsters2]

—KAIROSCLEROSIS | TEN (FINAL)

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x OFC/Fem!Reader

Summary: Everything comes to settle in the aftermath. You're healing and Wednesday takes the time to consider what she's experiencing until she picks it apart in a way she can tolerate it. You are hers, though. That is for certain.

Warnings: softsoftsoftsoft. so soft. Wednesday is soft. cuddling. happy ending. healing. bantering. did i say soft? crying it's so soft. satisfying aftermath. the nickname bet comes to an end. soft in case you were unaware.

Series Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

Reminder there's no taglist, but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Note: book 1 has come to an end! Thank you so much to everyone who has supported this series <3 Sequel is on it's way along with some oneshots! series masterlist has been re-edited with info.

Part Nine

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Kairosclerosis: Noun. The moment you realize that you're currently happy—consciously trying to savor the feeling—which prompts your intellect to identify it, pick it apart, and put it in context, where it will slowly dissolve until it's little more than an aftertaste.

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Wednesday sits beside your hospital bed, quietly reading Goody's spellbook. The only noise is the sound of your quiet breathing and the steady beeping from the machine that monitors your heart rate. 

The spellbook is coming in handy already. Wednesday has just discovered a better remedial salve—one that should actually speed up the healing process. Once Enid arrives, Wednesday would be free to go and gather the ingredients she needed. She would need some honey from Eugene's bees, and she recalled a plant in the greenhouse with the pulp she needed.

A particularly deep breath draws Wednesday's attention from her book. Her head tilts slightly over as she peers at you. Your eyes are closed, unaware of anything as you slept on. You had to be put on your stomach so that your wings could rest without anything touching them. 

The reopened wounds had to be stitched back together and then bandaged, which the doctor noted would have to be for two weeks and frequently changed. Wednesday was merely waiting for you to be discharged, and she could take your healing into her own hands. The nurse earlier had received a scathing glare when she was not delicate in changing your bandages yesterday, causing your brows to furrow as you slept on. 

Morons, Wednesday vehemently decided then. They couldn't be trusted with you. 

"You should wake up soon," Wednesday says, even though you never reply. She doesn't even know if you're listening. "It's much too sunny without you."

"Wednesday," Enid sighs as she walks into the room, a new bouquet of flowers in her hands. "Why are you up again? You're supposed to be resting too. You got stabbed in the arm!"

"This is hardly anything," Wednesday raises her brow as she closes the spellbook and puts it back into her bag. "It honestly hurts more when I punch Pugsley."

“You mean when Pugsley punches you?”

“No.”

"Still," Enid frowns, looking over her roommate. Despite only having been two days since the ordeal, Wednesday threatened the hospital staff to discharge her mere hours after she got cleaned and fixed up. 

You could barely tell that Wednesday was injured by the way she continued wearing long sleeves, tidy braids, and lack of reaction. The only visible sign was the bandage she had to wear over her temple. 

"Fae will be upset if you refuse to rest and heal when she wakes up." Enid looks over to you, biting her bottom lip. A part of her wants to cry at how banged up you looked. She knew—could smell how much blood there was that night. But now you really looked broken with the machines hooked up to you and the red-stained bandages wrapped over your wings. 

It was worse than when Eugene was in the hospital last year. 

Wednesday looks at you once more as she prepares to leave. Your back rises and falls with each steady breath. "Then I suppose she'll have to wake up if she wants me to even consider listening to her grievances against me."

Walking out the door, Wednesday doesn't spare you another glance as she walks down the corridors. The nurses give her a wide berth, the lights flickering as she walks. 

A room comes up as she makes her way to the stairwell. There are two police guards posted outside. As she passes, she looks into the window and sees a lanky boy with messy hair and gauze bandages wrapped around his eyes and head. He's completely unaware. 

Wednesday smiles sinisterly. 

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"Miss Addams," Weems greets as she puts down her fancy fountain pen, gesturing for Wednesday to come closer.

Wednesday wordlessly takes a seat, her face impassive. 

They stare at each other for a long moment before Weems lets out a long, tired sigh. She pinches the bridge of her nose before she looks at the macabre girl. 

"How are your classes going?" Weems asks.

Wednesday looks unimpressed as she lets out a dull "Fine."

"I hear you're taking class notes for Fae when she wakes up," Weems smiles then, and Wednesday narrows her eyes.

"Only because Enid's writing is so cacographic that it'd be more legible if it was put through a shredder."

Weem merely chuckles, rubbing her temples. "The reason I've called you to my office is that the investigation is finally coming to an end." Weems folds her hands together on the desk in front of her. "I know you've given the police your statement, but I thought I'd get the event recounted by you myself."

"I've assumed you read the report?" Wednesday asks, her chin jilted slightly. 

Weems nods.

"Then you already know what happened. I will not be changing my story," Wednesday raises her brow. "She was kidnapped. I found the clues to where she was and the fact that Henry was the culprit. When I arrived, she was unconscious and chained to the table, poisoned with a draeconium potion."

Wednesday watches as Weems's hands tighten slightly.

"Henry gave his unremarkable sob story before we engaged in combat. The noises woke her up, and she freed herself before she defended us against Henry."

"I noticed you weren't very descriptive in this area in your report," Weems points out.

"Everything she did was something only a high lord's daughter or a night faerie would be able to do, so I will keep it to myself. The police are welcome to come and try to get an answer out of me," Wednesday's eyes glint as she gives a sharp smile, "but at their own risk."

Weems gives a wry smile and waves her hand for Wednesday to continue.

"Henry's desperation to attack us and gain the upper hand led him to strain his eyes and lose consciousness. At that moment, Enid and everyone else barged in as they finally escaped his mindscape. We all made our way back here to get medical help."

Weems stares at Wednesday after the girl finishes recounting the story. "I see," the principal says evenly after a moment. "And that was what happened? Henry lost consciousness and you left him there immediately after?"

"Yes. I wasn't going to go out of my way to bring back a kidnapper and our attempted murderer," Wednesday shrugs. 

"He could have died," Weems emphasizes pointedly. "Which would've been another death here at Nevermore two years in a row."

"His failure to kill us both is his own fault. He should deal with the consequences of it himself. The authorities were able to get them, were they not? I hear he's resting in his own guarded room." There was a telling smirk on Wednesday's face.

"Yes," Weems's voice is hard. "Though I'm sure you know the guards are useless, considering he no longer has eyes and can't use his gift anymore."

"I heard rumors around the hospital," Wednesday's face was indifferent again. 

"Wednesday," Weems sighs. "This was a disaster. Henry Morrison Sr wants to further investigate the disappearance of his son's eyes. He's convinced that they were surgically removed and considering there was only you in this situation that was conscious, he wants to press charges against you."

"Is he an absolute moron?" Wednesday raises her brow. "Is he not aware of what his son attempted to do?"

"Yes, well—"

"I encourage him to try to press charges against me with the lack of evidence he has. This case would be so laughable, I wouldn't even need to hire legal help with how guaranteed my victory is."

"Yes," Weems cuts in before Wednesday can say anything else. "And I told him as such."

Wednesday sharply looks at the principal, her eyes full of suspicion. She has no doubts that Weems knew she had gouged out Henry's eyes. After all, she had timed it perfectly for the authorities to arrive on time before he could die. 

The optic nerve was completely severed to ensure his psychic abilities could never manifest again, and then she fed his eyeballs to the fish in the river as she rowed her way back. 

"I have informed Mr. Morrison Sr that back in 1956, there was a similar incident where a psychic had over-exerted himself, resulting in his eyes bursting and it seemed that may be the case here." Weems's eyes seem to search for something in Wednesday, but it doesn't seem like she's looking for the truth. "There's no proof indicating otherwise. With that, Henry Jr is expelled, obviously."

"Will he be going to jail like Tyler?" Wednesday's quick to ask.

"Well, considering only one student attacked—no, I'm not counting you as you foolishly went after Fae alone—it's not enough to warrant having the academy file charges—"

"Of course," Wednesday hisses disdainfully. "We wouldn't want to potentially harm the school's impeccable reputation—"

"—That being said," Weems cut in forcefully, giving Wednesday a stern look. "As Fae's guardian, I am personally filing charges. I'm quite confident Morrison Sr will want to accept the plea bargain when we meet next week, lest he wants a long, grueling court battle where I will drag his family name through the mud."

Wednesday went quiet. She doesn't apologize, but there's a mild look of respect in Wednesday’s eyes. Her eyes flicker down and then back up. "Why did you want me to recount the report if the investigation has obviously concluded?"

Weems gathers the paper on her desk, shuffling them to line up. "I merely wanted to hear the events in your own words, as the police will still want Fae's matching statement when she awakens."

Wednesday stares on.

"I'm dismissing you for the day," Weems says as she puts the papers back on her desk. "I'm rather tied up with things I cannot put off, and I have a meeting in half an hour. There's a car waiting for you at the gates."

"Why—" Wednesday starts to ask, but she can feel her heart thudding against her ribcage almost painfully, and she relishes in it. 

"I have let the hospital staff know you'll be arriving to check her out on my authorization. I have already handled her discharge papers over the phone earlier. Listen to me for once and arrive before the police do," Weems says, dismissing Wednesday.

Wednesday gets up and walks out of the office briskly. She begins to walk towards the gates outside but stops. Turning towards her room, Wednesday first goes there and picks up the fuzzy black blanket, folding it neatly together, then draping it over her arm. She grabs a single grape lollipop from Enid's desk before she takes the shortest way to the front gates. 

The ride feels tediously long, and Wednesday snaps at the driver to drive faster. It barely comes to a stop before Wednesday gets out and walks through the hospital doors. She doesn't make herself known to the front desk receptionists and takes the stairwell up and down the memorized pathway to room 316. 

The door is already open, but there's no noise inside. There's a moment when Wednesday's heart drops at the lack of noise. Wednesday's used to feeling miserable; it brings her comfort and joy now even to feel so. Occasionally, she'll feel a type of misery she could live without. 

Wednesday's never been aware of how un-miserable she wants to be as she approaches your door. 

The moment Wednesday steps in, her face doesn't change at all. If anything, she looks more dispassionate than usual. 

But she blinks. 

"Hi, Wednesday."

You've probably said it hundreds of times now. You've said it in the same tone over and over, but Wednesday suddenly feels like it's better than any music she's heard. It even sounds better than Pugsley's screams. 

You're smiling at her. You look tired with the bags and dark circles under your eyes, but you're alive, and you look so—Wednesday clenches her jaw—hers. You just look like hers. Franz Kafka said it best: you are the knife she turns inside herself. 

"You are so cruel, Wednesday. I wake up to make your world less sunny, and you bring me only one grape lollipop? Rest assured you'll be listening to the grievances I have against you."

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"We should get up soon, I need to apply your salve."

"Can't you just apply it like this? You did yesterday."

"Need I remind you how long it took and in the end, I had to get up to get to the places I couldn't reach."

"I think I can stretch my wings further today. You might not have to get up."

Wednesday sighs at your mutterings but leaves it be. You'll probably be more agreeable to moving in an hour anyway. 

Your body is a steady weight on top of hers, and you radiate a warmth that Wednesday thought would make her uncomfortable with how cool her body normally is. But it just makes everything tepid, and Wednesday finds she has a penchant for it. 

Your head rests against her chest, and you once commented how eerie it was that it was such a slow and quiet heartbeat, like she might as well be dead. The words were entirely flattering. 

Wednesday stares at the ceiling; she knows you're slowly falling asleep again. The past two weeks, you've been rather boring as all you can do is rest, but Wednesday finds it gives her a lot of time to think.

Her story has slowly been changing—it has been ever since she's grown closer to you. Between the mysteries and the morbidity of everything, her main character seems to be experiencing something else too. 

Wednesday thinks about what it means to her and comes to an utterly disgusting conclusion. 

She's happy. 

It's so repugnant that Wednesday constantly sneers at herself. She has no desire to expand on it, but she'll catch herself thinking of useless things. It dampens the happiness into something Wednesday's also unfamiliar with, and she can't decide which is worse. 

Wednesday's fingers trail over the arches of your wings, feeling the bone just underneath the soft feathers. Your wing twitches, but you say nothing. She continues her exploration of her wings, careful over the wounds that are still slowly healing but have been much better with the salve she created using Goody's spellbook. 

Your wings start trilling when Wednesday reaches further toward the middle. The skin is thinner there, but the feathers are lush and thick.

"Tickles," you mumble, your brows furrowing but not opening your eyes.

Wednesday glances down at you before she pulls the blanket up higher. "Come with me to my manor on the next Parents' Day."

You let out a big yawn, ruffling your feathers with a small shake. "Are you sure?" You mumble, still sleepy.

"My mother invited you."

You hum. "Sure, it'd be nice to see where you live. I think I'll want to have dinner with Larissa on Friday night, but I can leave after."

"We'll go together on Saturday morning."

"'kay," you mutter sleepily. 

There's a lull in silence again, and Wednesday feels discontentment in her chest. She wonders if you can hear it as you lay over her heart.

Wednesday clears her throat. "I have thought of a moniker for you."

She can feel you smiling.

"Oh?" You say amusedly, but you continue to lay there with your eyes closed. "Let's hear it."

"I believe we should just stick with Fae. We've already gone on too long, and there'd be no point in changing it now. Even if other faeries came to this school, there's still only one Fae. You'd merely confuse everyone with a new alias."

You let out a laugh then, shifting in Wednesday's arms. "It took you six months to come to that conclusion? Did you even come up with anything else?"

"Nothing that I would allow anyone else to call you," Wednesday huffs with annoyance, still cursing her father's passed-on nicknaming abilities.

"Why not?"

Silence again. Wednesday seems to be debating her discontentment before she says, "you are mine."

It's so simple, the words and the way she says it. 

You finally open your eyes as you lift your head to look up at Wednesday, who is resting against the headboard of your bed. She looks at you as if challenging you to say otherwise. 

"So, we're dating?" You tilt your head.

"Yes," Wednesday says with finality but also looks pained at the frivolous words and then sighs. "I never thought I'd be capable of wanting someone like this. I don't do feelings but all you make me do is feel things I have to research later."

"What kind of words?"

"Ridiculous words that I'm convinced are fake," Wednesday deadpans. "Regardless, I don't do feelings, but the idea of not experiencing more with you is unbearable."

"You're mine then?" you say, and it's more of a statement than a question.

"I am," Wednesday confirms.

You let out a soft laugh, and Wednesday tilts her head. 

"I never thought I'd ever have anyone to call mine," you say with a quiet smile. "I have very few things, Wednesday. I promise to treat you very well."

Wednesday nods once, her fingers tracing over a feather. You lift yourself higher with your hands, coming face to face with the grim girl, your nose brushing against hers. She was so serious looking.

"I discovered last year that I'm capable of evolving," Wednesday says quietly, her lips brushing against yours as her hands rest on the small of your back. "It's inequitable how much you've affected me."

You smile widely then, your lips parting in a huff of laughter. They're so ridiculous. Really, you're made for her, and she's made for you. "Wednesday, you've changed me since the day I laid my eyes on you." You kiss her, and the only noise in the room is the sound of your wings gently fluttering with excitement and Wednesday's stolen breath.

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"I believe I've come up with an acceptable arrangement of your epithet," Wednesday declares. "I'm owed your phone number."

You don't even look at her as you blindly reach for your phone on your desk, too comfortable to move from lying on top of Wednesday as you cuddle.

Wednesday watches you fiddle around on your device before her phone in her sweater pocket vibrates. 

She pulls her phone out and sees there's a text from you.

(xxx)-xxx-xxxx: save this number 😗

"What is the meaning of this?" Wednesday asks, her voice low and dangerous, but you seem unbothered.

"You have my number now?"

"You had my phone number this entire time?" Wednesday feels something brewing inside of her, and it's mainly murder. 

You nod, still lying on top of her with your eyes closed. "Enid gave it to me after the bet was made."

"Why?" Wednesday demanded.

"Because I asked for it?"

"Then why make the ridiculous bet? Did you enjoy listening to such brainless suggestions?" 

"I told you," you smile. "I only make bets where I'll win either way. I wanted you to come up with something and win to give you the excuse of asking for my number. If you didn't, then Enid was already giving up and about to suggest we stick to Fae the next time it got brought up. I would've texted you after the bet was over."

Wednesday stares down at you, and she bores into the side of your head and plots silently.

"You are detestable, but I respect your strategy and deception. Although, regardless of the fact you are mine will not save you from my revenge."

You finally look up at Wednesday's unimpressed stare and smile at her. 

"Threatening me with a good time again, are you?"

END

EPILOGUE 1

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Hope you enjoyed the series! :)

I will be opening up a temporary taglist of 50 people to be notified when the oneshots and sequel is up! Comment or reblog on this post only to be added (pls don't send to my inbox bc i will miss it 💔) you can still always follow my library blog for notifs @missmonsters2-library

[nahoney22]

hi hello I don’t know how to use tumblr but your blog convinced me (I had no idea there was such a gold mine of E V E R Y T H I N G on tumblr whew). Anyway I’m a slut for some slow burn romance, can I request something with Echo? Maybe reader has known him since 501st days and liked him since, and learning he lived and joined the bad batch just made her NEED to find him again? Ps I love you, you’re a beautiful soul ok bye

All Roads Lead to You

Echo X F!Reader

word count: 1.7k

Learning from Rex that Echo was alive, you knew you had to find him and after so many years and confess how you really feel for him before it’s too late again.

warnings: Fluff, cute reunion, mutual pining, friends to lovers, first kiss, brief mentions of Echo at the citadel, mentions of death. Safe for work. Female reader. Not proofread.

authors note: oh my darling @burningfieldof-clover I’m so sorry for the delay 🙈 this got lost in my drafts. Enjoy 🤍

"Hey, are you alright?"

Rex's voice reached your ears, but the words remained trapped in your throat. You stood there, rooted to the spot, a whirlwind of emotions raging within you. Tears welled up in your eyes as a million thoughts raced through your mind. Then again, how does one react to the miraculous news that the man you had loved for countless years, the man you had believed to be lost forever, was now alive?

It took the gentle wave of a hand in front of your face to snap you out of your daze. Blinking back your tears, you focused on Rex, who wore a concerned expression. "You okay?"

"Echo's alive?" you finally managed to croak out, your voice trembling with a mixture of disbelief and hope.

A soft, reassuring smile graced Rex's lips as he nodded. "Yes, he's alive. He's been with another squad for quite some time now."

The shock of the revelation left you struggling to grasp the reality of the moment. Rex had delivered this life- news with such casual ease, unaware of the immense significance it held for you. He couldn't possibly fathom the depths of your feelings for the Arc Trooper.

Rex guided you to a quiet spot and began to unravel the incredible story of Echo's survival. To your horror, he painted a vivid picture of the ordeal Echo had endured from the Techno Union, how he was rescued and his choice about joining another squad. You truly had no ideal to cope with all this information, other than stare at Rex dumbfounded.

You had abandoned your position within the GAR years ago, unable to bear the pain of Echo's supposed death. But now, a chance had emerged, a chance to find Echo and to finally confess the love you had hidden away for years. However, the question of whether it was too late, whether Echo even held the same feelings for you, loomed large. But you had to find out one way or another. “How do I find Clone Force 99?”

Rex had been kind enough to provide you with the coordinates of the last known location Echo was heading to, and you had promptly booked a shuttle to get there. The journey was arduous, with doubt gnawing at your thoughts the entire way. Your mind whispered that this might be a foolish mistake, but the need to see Echo, to confirm his existence with your own eyes, outweighed all hesitation.

As the shuttle touched down on the unfamiliar planet, you felt a sense of disorientation and timid uncertainty. You questioned whether you should first explore your surroundings or make an attempt to find Echo yourself.

However, your gaze was drawn to the vast expanse of the ocean. It had been too long since you had witnessed such natural beauty, the sun's gentle rays dancing on the water's surface. The clean, fresh air was a stark contrast to the stuffy atmosphere of the deeper levels of Coruscant. You had overheard that this planet served as a refuge for many after the Clone Wars, and it seemed like the perfect place for it.

Lost in contemplation, you were brought back to the present by the presence of a small girl standing beside you, her bright brown eyes and short blonde hair catching your attention. She gazed up at you and inquired, "Are you okay?"

You offered her a warm smile and nodded. "Yeah, thanks. Just... taking it all in."

She eagerly inquired, "I love it here. Are you visiting someone or staying?"

Your soft laughter filled the air as you found her nosiness to be quite charming. Truth be told, you didn't see a reason to hide the purpose of your visit. "Visiting someone."

Her eyes lit up with excitement. "Who? Maybe I know them?" Her eagerness was infectious, and you couldn't help but notice the familiarity in her eyes, a certain resemblance that tugged at your memories.

You began to answer, "Alright, he's called Ec—"

But before you could finish, a commanding voice interrupted, "Omega, come. We need to get going." The voice sent a shockwave through your heart, and your breath caught in your throat. It was a voice you had longed to hear, one you thought you'd never hear again.

Omega let out a sigh and offered you an apologetic look before turning and hurrying to the source of the voice. As you turned to see the speaker, your heart skipped a beat. Echo stood there, so different yet unmistakably the same. His gaze on you was strong, as if trying to piece a picture together of who you were.

"But Echo, I was helping her find someone," Omega protested, gesturing towards you. Her words were distant as Echo's gaze locked onto yours, trying to recognise the changes in your appearance from the last time he had seen you. Your hair, clothing, and your civilian guise had replaced the uniformed visage he remembered.

Interrupting the profound moment, Omega's question rang out, but both you and Echo remained captivated by the connection rekindled in that shared gaze. Soon, the other members of Echo’s squad gathered by Omega's side.

Hunter's curiosity was piqued as he observed the unfolding interaction, and he couldn't help but ask, "What's going on?" Omega simply shrugged, her eyes trained on Echo and you.

With a few more tentative steps, Echo closed the distance between you, his head tilted slightly as if to analyse you, to confirm that it was really you. Your voice quivered as you managed to say, "Hi, Echo," and he echoed your name in a soft, heartfelt tone.

A warm smile graced his lips as he admitted, "I can't believe it's you."

A gentle, albeit slightly teasing, response escaped your lips. "I could say the same."

Finally, the emotional barrier gave way, and you found yourselves locked in each other's arms, holding each other as though afraid to let go. "

I've missed you so much," you whispered into his chest, your glistening eyes revealing the depths of your longing. The tears threatened to spill, impossible to hold back any longer.

And then, an unexpected comment from one of Echo's companions, "I didn't know Echo had a girlfriend,” broke the tender moment and you could not help but laugh.

“Let me introduce you to the others,” Echo pulls out of the hug, offers you a reassuring smile and guides you to his new comrades.

Later that evening after some good, really good food, yourself and Echo take a walk down by the shore. Making small talk and catching up on everything you both have missed, it felt like nothing changed between you both. It was everything you could have hoped for.

"I really can't believe you're here," Echo chuckled, a sense of disbelief lingering in his voice. "I never thought I'd see you again."

A soft smile graced your lips as you matched his pace, coming to a stop as you spoke. "Me either."

Then, with a touch of hesitation, you blurted out, "So, uh, are you seeing anybody?" The question took even you by surprise, and it seemed to have a similar effect on Echo. His curiosity was piqued as he observed your flustered expression.

He folded his arms over his chest, shaking his head. "No, are you?"

Your reply came swiftly, perhaps a bit too swiftly for your liking. "No." You didn't give yourself a chance to consider the implications of your response, and Echo didn't press further.

His next question, however, held a hint of teasing, and his voice carried a subtle tone of curiosity. "Oh yeah? And why's that?" It seemed as though he was studying you, and for a brief moment, you thought he might have moved a bit closer, but it was hard to tell if it was just your imagination.

Your breath wavered as you gazed into Echo's eyes, your heart racing just like the first time you had ever met him. It felt like the right moment to lay bare the truth, to let him in on the emotions that had been tucked away for far too long.

"I have feelings," you began, your voice steady but your eyes now avoiding his, "for you. I have feelings for you."

Echo's eyes widened, and he blinked in astonishment, his words caught in his throat as he grappled with the unexpected confession. "You have feelings," he repeats, taking a step closer, his voice barely more than a whisper, "for me?"

You dipped your head, nodding as you ran a hand through your hair nervously. "I always have, Echo. I've loved you for so, so many years." The truth hung in the air between you, a confession that had been kept in the shadows for far too long.

The crashing waves almost drowned out the deafening silence that followed Echo's lack of response to your confession. Regret started to surge through you, the weight of the confession now hanging heavily in the clear air, making the situation uncomfortable and awkward.

"Sorry, I should go," you quickly uttered, turning to leave, but before you could take a step, his hand swiftly caught your wrist, pulling you back towards him. You stumbled slightly, finding yourself suddenly close to his chest, confusion painting your eyes.

In a moment that felt like a dream, Echo leaned in, nose nudging against your own and his breath brushing against your face with his lips hovering close to yours. "Echo?" you whispered, a rush of chills coursing through your body.

"I love you too," he finally uttered, his eyes closing as his lips met yours in a tender, affectionate embrace. "I've loved you since the first night I met you," he confessed, his warm breath mingling with yours as his hand moved to your waist, drawing you closer.

The kiss unfolded slowly, a perfect and intensely romantic connection, a moment that exceeded all your imagined dreams of being with Echo. It felt surreal, but his touch, his lips, assured you of his reality. When the kiss finally parted, he breathed, "Stay with us. Stay with me."

In that instant, any doubt vanished. You knew you would never even consider leaving his side again. Echo's confession sealed the bond, and you embraced the certainty that this was where you belonged, in his arms.

Masterlist

Taglist if you want to be added or removed (please note I’ll remove you if you’re not interacting with my work 🤍)

Tags: @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova a @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @sol-the-otter @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @seriowan @imalovernotahater @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @raevulsix @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @id-rather-be-a-druid @the-bad-batch-baroness @photogirl894

[amorpaints]

Love at First Paint: A Beginner's Guide to Painting

"Almond Blossom" by Vincent van Gogh (1853 - 1890), Saint-Rémy-de-Provence, February 1890

Have you ever dreamed of being like Picasso or Vincent Van Gogh? If you do, you are looking at the wrong blog because I am far from them. But hey there! I'm Eden Amor, a freshman student and a self-taught artist who just loves to paint.

Art has been my passion since I was a kid, and as I grew older, I fell even more in love with it and started trying out different mediums and styles. But there's just something about painting that really excites me! I started with graphite, then moved on to colored pencils, and even dabbled in charcoal (although I never got around to using those charcoal pencils I ordered online). Finally, I found my true love in watercolors, and I've been obsessed with working with wet mediums ever since!

If you are a beginner in painting (like me, have been a skill of a beginner for years), you can enjoy my blog and get some tips that I learned from my starting journey. But if you are just interested in painting or in art generally, you can still read this blog.

Just a disclaimer: I am no expert and just a self-taught artist. Some things might work for me and not for you, and vice versa, so take this blog with a grain of salt.

LEARN ABOUT PAINTING

Since I am a self-taught artist myself, I never applied for workshops in drawing or painting. But most of my art knowledge is from YouTube tutorials, shorts, and IG reels (I have no TikTok, I don’t know why). I suggest learning about the basics before painting whatever you want because you’ll get disappointed after the result or wondering why everything is not working the way you wanted. 

But before anything else, find the medium that you want. Mediums like acrylic, oil, gouache, and watercolor. There might be more but these four are some of the common wet mediums. One thing to address about these mediums is that they all have different properties and the techniques you’ll approach, the materials you’ll use, and the finish or outcome of the painting will depend on the medium. 

MEDIUMS

Watercolor

My recommendation for anyone wanting to start painting with no experience is to use watercolors. The only things you need are watercolor paint and water. Unlike acrylic paint, which, although water-based, can get pretty messy and dries quickly, giving you little time to blend and touch up unless you use an acrylic medium called Retarder, which is a medium that you mix with the paint to slow its drying time, but will cost you more. So, as simple as watercolor can be, it's a great starting point for a beginner in painting. 

However, watercolor painting can be tricky when it comes to water manipulation. The amount of water your brush holds affects in creating an even layer of paint. The drying time takes hours, especially if you are working in layers, if you paint the still-damp surface too early, you will ruin everything and you cannot cover it up since watercolor is transparent. That is why watercolor painting is done light-to-dark because dark colors cannot be covered by light colors. So planning ahead of time is suggested and should not paint with watercolor impulsively.

Acrylic

If you want to take the next level or just explore other mediums, acrylic painting is great for high coverage and textures. What watercolor doesn’t have but acrylic has is the ability to cover mistakes. In acrylic painting, you can paint on top of a painting, which is great especially if you change your mind or decide to start all over again, as long you coat more than one layer of white paint then you have a blank canvas again.

However acrylic paint, as said earlier, dries quickly which can be a disadvantage if you are a slow painter (like me) and especially if you are making a seamless gradient, which is very difficult to achieve and not as easy as you think. Since acrylic is water-based, cleaning is very easy with just water as long as the paint is still wet. Hardened paints can be peeled off easily but only on smooth surfaces, but if you got it on something like fabric, it will be forever on it.

Gouache

I describe gouache (pronounced as ‘goo-aash’) as a combination of watercolor and acrylic. Because like watercolor, gouache is water-activated paint, which means that dried paints can be revived and used the paint again when wet. And just like acrylic, gouache has high coverage and a thick consistency which is great for texture. But unlike acrylic, which has a glossy finish, the gouache creates a matte finish once the paint is dry and it also dries fast giving you no more time for creating flawless gradients.

I use gouache for mini projects, or creating art trends I saw online, but I don’t recommend it for painting a big major project since it can be smudge once wet, and as of now, I don’t know if there’s an appropriate varnish for gouache so if you have any idea please let me know in the comment section.

Oil

The most expensive of the four mentioned paint mediums is oil paint. However, oil paint creates the most realistic paintings. Despite its high cost, what makes me love oil paint is how smoothly the paintbrush glides, like butter. Blending oil paint is very easy, and you can create flawless gradients between colors. Oil paint has a very slow drying time. For small projects, such as those the size of half a sheet of bond paper, it can take days to weeks to fully dry and be ready for varnish. This slow drying time can be both an advantage and a disadvantage, depending on the complexity of your painting. It allows you to fix mistakes or make adjustments even the next day. Additionally, a small amount of oil paint goes a long way.

Oil painting can be hazardous because it involves flammable oil-based paints, as well as mediums like thinner and linseed oil. While water is used to dilute watercolor, gouache, and acrylic paints, oil paint requires the use of thinner. It's important to avoid washing oil paintbrushes with water, as it can damage the brushes and won't effectively remove the paint. Additionally, it's crucial to store oil paints, thinner, and linseed oil away from sources of heat and fire.

Since I am only new to oil painting, I cannot give much in-depth information about it and if you do please I beg for some advice and tips in oil painting.

Materials in Painting

Painting can be an expensive hobby given that the materials used (especially the branded ones) are not really as cheap as a pencil and a piece of paper. But aside from being a painter, I am also a cheapskate. 

I will never buy an art supply that is as expensive as my kidney, UNLESS if it is worth it or I can make money out of it. I don’t really have all the money to buy all the art supplies I want, I am still dependent on my parents and have no job yet (currently at college, 18, and an irresponsible young adult). 

That is why I chose to buy art supplies online instead from the art stores near my place. And I think as a beginner, expensive materials are unnecessary because for me an artist should be able to make a masterpiece with his/her skill and not the tools. But that doesn’t mean the quality of materials will not make a difference. So if you are the same as me, you can use my tips.

Paint

The paints I use are not of great quality, but they are good enough. I honestly thought that some of the paints I bought were much better than the pricier ones. 

In watercolor, there are two common types: in the tubes and in the pans. The tubed paints have a consistency of acrylic, unlike the ones in the pans, which are hardened. What I have is the Superior Watercolor in pans set. I bought them online for less than $10, and it is a set of 18 colors with a brush pen and sponge included. The quality is great, it is not chalky, and it doesn’t smudge once dried. I spent my money wisely, and I do not regret buying it even though $10 is already a lot to me.

When it comes to acrylic and oil paint, I suggest buying the primary colors (ultramarine blue, crimson red, cadmium yellow), titanium white, black, and magenta only. I highly suggest buying a large amount of white because you’ll need it most of the time. Buying a set is very costly, but with these 6 colors, you can create any color, save money, and at the same time improve color-matching skills, which is an essential skill as a painter. If you wonder why I added magenta, it is because the combination of red and white is not bright enough to be pink or it is just different from the color magenta, and I think having magenta in the collection is a good addition. I used the Mont Marte brand in acrylic and Marie’s for oil paint.

Paintbrush

There are different shapes of brushes: flat, round, filbert, and detail are the commonly used shapes, and it depends on the medium you are using. For watercolor, a round brush is recommended, and a flat brush is recommended for thick paints like acrylic and oil paint. A filbert brush is also a flat brush, but the trim is round, and it is good for painting clouds. A detailed brush is used for small details like painting dots and thin lines or for small paintings. There are more shapes of brushes out there, but having a variety of brushes can be overwhelming. Get only the brushes you need and have them in sizes small, medium, and large. The size of the brush will depend on how small or big your painting is. Using the appropriate shape and size of the brush will lessen your expenses and you’ll learn to depend more on your skills than the tools.

There are cheap but not too cheap brushes available online. They are not branded, but the quality is good enough (like the ones I use), and the bristles don’t come off easily.

Paper

We can paint on anything, but nothing beats paper. However, the paper used in painting is not just an ordinary paper. The thickness of the paper used in painting, particularly watercolor paper, is important so that the paint would not easily destroy it.

Watercolor paper is usually combined with cotton, making it more durable than regular paper or cardstock. The percentage of cotton in the paper varies as the price varies. It is recommended to use 200 gsm paper, which is what I have because it is affordable and good enough to hold a few layers of paint.

However, I highly recommend using 300 gsm paper because the 200 gsm papers I use still curl up or bend and get wavy, which is a hassle when painting. The higher quality, 300gsm paper or paper containing 100% cotton is easier to work with, as I have observed online, even without taping the paper down, it doesn’t curl up. But of course, high-quality paper costs more, so 200 gsm paper is good enough.

If you are wondering why I called the paper used in painting "watercolor paper," it's because you can also use watercolor paper for acrylic, gouache, and oil painting.

There are two types of watercolor paper:

Cold Press - Cold-pressed watercolor paper has a rough texture, which is great for watercolor painting because it gives more depth to the flat painting (water is water, they can't have shapes and textures like acrylic).

Hot Press - The hot-pressed one is recommended for thick paints because it has a fine, smooth surface, which is great for blending smoothly.

Aside from paper, you can also use canvas paper, stretched canvas, or a canvas panel for thick paints. However, since you are only starting in painting, paper is recommended for practice and is much cheaper than the canvas mentioned above.

OTHERS

Masking Tape

Why masking tape? It is used for tapping down the edges of the watercolor paper so it stays put and flat on the surface which makes painting much easier, and also it creates a clean border. You may see other artists use washi tape because they are less sticky and won't damage the paper once it is peeled off, but I think using washi tape costs more, instead, stick first the ordinary masking tape onto your clothes until it becomes less sticky, and then you are good to go.

Mixing Palette

Usually in watercolor paint sets, the lid of the container serves as the palette. However, when using thick paints like acrylic or oil, a better alternative to a traditional paint palette is a picture frame. Mixing paint on a glass surface is convenient for two reasons: (a) it is smooth and does not absorb the paint, and (b) it is easy to clean. Dried acrylic or oil paint can be easily peeled off the glass or scraped with a blade or glass scraper, leaving a fresh and clean surface for mixing. Additionally, the wood or plastic frame around the glass provides protection against breakage and sharp edges.

Towel/Tissue

A used towel or tissue is not only used for cleaning; it is also mainly used for soaking up the excess water on a brush or for wiping off the excess paint. It is very handy, so you should always have it by your side while painting.

Jar

A brush washer is a must-have for painting. This is where you wash off the paint with water from the brush. You can use an old cup or jar as a brush washer instead of buying the fancy ones which is unnecessary. I prefer using a jar because it is heavier than a regular plastic cup, which prevents it from tumbling or spilling. 

Here's a tip I learned from YouTube: use two brush washers. When you wash your brush once in a single container, the water gets muddy. This can make your fresh paint muddy when you switch colors. To prevent this, wash your brush twice: once in the first container and then again in the second container. This ensures that the water picked up by your brush is clean and not muddy.

ART STYLE

Early in my painting journey, I started practicing by painting scenic landscapes because they seemed easy to me. Of course, I overestimated myself. So I continued practicing more. Painting nature has grown on me, and I realized that my genre is landscape painting. The good thing about it is there is less structure unlike a portrait of a person, and shapes are organic so I will have no problem with imperfections. 

However, I still don’t have the ability to create my own work. I still have to watch tutorials online to have a guide. Most of my artworks were tutored by the artists I follow. Once I start painting with just a reference from Pinterest, I tend to get lost and suddenly don’t know what to do. I end up not continuing the work, which is a waste of time, energy, and material.

Lately, I returned to working with watercolor, but instead of nature, I used a reference photo of a person as a subject. Sketching the face first is my least favorite part, because if I mess up sketching the face, the whole painting is also a mess. Most of my subjects are K-pop idols, especially BTS, because I am also an ARMY! Working with faces is difficult but once you succeed, it is all worth it. 

Social media has highly influenced my art style. The fact that I get envious whenever I see new art trends gives me a push and inspires me to continue doing my art and explore more.

Check Out These Artists I Follow

Correa Art

Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@CorreaArt

Instagram: instagram.com/correaart_

Jess Chung

Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@JessChungArt

Instagram: instagram.com/jesschungart

Emily Mackey Art

Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@EmilyMackeyArt

Instagram: instagram.com/emilymackeyar

Genelyn Sandaga

Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@GenelynSandaga

Instagram: instagram.com/genelyn_sandaga

Socials

If you want to know more about my art, you can visit and support my two Instagram accounts:

@ChiliCheeseLover

@paintwith_amore

💜💜💜

If you have feedback to share, please do! I am eager to hear your thoughts. If not, kindly give this blog a heart; it is greatly appreciated!

💜💜💜

[andkisses]

♡ a good way | beomgyu ♡

despite the director casting you and beomgyu, your best friend, as the romantic leads, you both promise it won’t change anything between you

♡ beomgyu x gn!reader | wc. 9.1k ♡ genres/tropes: college!au, friends-to-loves, theater!au, hurt/comfort ♡ mentions of/warnings: injuries, lmk if there's anything else ♡ a/n: this is a rewrite of a fic i wrote and posted YEARS ago; unfortunately it was eaten up when i accidentally deleted my blog :’) it was originally for joshua from svt; i changed some of the times in the fic from the original, so if it’s a little wonky that’s why :’) pls enjoy ! <3 at the time it was my longest fic, now only second to roman holiday ^^ a/n 2: apologies for my absences ! i had some health issues even tho it was supposed to be my break :') im doing well now ^^

♡ masterlist ♡

It was strange. Weird. Practically unfathomable and there must be some kind of mistake. The play had those two characters as romantic leads. The ones who slowly turn to look at each other, catch the starry glint in the other’s eye before slowly leaning in, before slowly closing their eyes, before slowly feeling their heartbeat accelerate because oh heavens this is it—before slowly kissing each other for the first time with such tender passion some members of the audience start to cry.

Those roles were not ever meant for the ones who have been friends since seventh grade, where one of them accidentally tripped and tossed their lunch all over the other, rendering the former an apologetic mess and the latter slightly smelling of garlic for the rest of the day. Not for the ones who stayed up far too late binge watching whole seasons of anime because they finally turned in that big project and it’s in fate’s hands now. Definitely not friends who are each other’s best friends, always. Never them.

But when the director swings back to the two of you, the mischievous and excited glint in his eye is unmistakable. His giddiness even bubbles over and he repeats himself, happily gazing between you and the best friend of 8 years standing beside you. “Beomgyu, Y/N, you will be the best two leads this stage has ever seen.”

You don’t want to talk about it. You avoid it for as long as possible. Have every conversation about everything else possible except the one topic that actually needs discussion. The trees outside are slowly losing their crunchy leaves, littering the ground with crimson and gold and sprigs of chocolate in between. They rustle and fuss when walked over, and shuffle down the street in a hoard of warning, proclaiming threats of the bitter winds of winter that would soon approach and engulf everyone whole.

Some mornings, you can see remnants of late-night frost on window panes, icy designs laced over the glass in the early morning hours. The grass glistens and shimmers with frozen dew, and the sidewalk is slippery enough to encourage walking slowly or bypassing concrete altogether and walking through the dead leaves. Some nights, you can see your breath curl as you wait outside the diner, a translucent white beast disappearing into the night. As night draws darker earlier, the air grows colder, like a mysterious ghost. One moment, you’re warm—the next, a bitter chill sprints around you, immersing everything in a coldness that drills past your layers and settles into your bones.

But you’d wait a thousand years in the cold just to walk him home. You’d wait forever if it meant seeing him one last time before the day ended and blurred into the next through a series of dreams and quiet darkness.

Beomgyu is one of the last few people out of the diner; he never closes, but he stays as long as he can, helping out and cleaning before his boss gets angry and tells him to “go home! Don’t you have homework?” When he steps out onto the street, making sure to close the door behind him, he’s safely bundled up in a black pea coat and a plaid woolen scarf that, when wound up, nearly encompasses his neck, chin, and even the bottom tips of his ears. When he sees you waiting for him again, he smiles, eyes lighting up like firecrackers and his grin is so warm it starts to defrost your bones, slowly but surely.

“You know you don’t have to wait for me?” he says, falling in step with you as the two of you began the chilled trek back to your apartment.

“Yeah,” you shrug, “but then who will make sure you don’t get lost on your way back? Or, I don’t know, get eaten by a star-monster?”

“A star-monster?” He quirks his head towards you, raising his eyebrow in mild but amused confusion.

You nod your head. “What if the stars gang up on you and snatch you right off the face of the earth and you disappear into the sky? And no one knows or can save you because I wasn’t there? Hm?”

A bitter chuckle escapes his lips. The white curl of his breath fills the air in front of him before it fades, taking the bright look in his eyes with it. “Then I guess I wouldn’t have to be a part of the musical, would I?”

Silence washes over you like a breaking wave—it hurts and stings, knocking everything away and tossing the tiny ships around into chaos. The only sound now is the brush of the wind skirting the leaves down the street with you and the distant city noise. The heels of your shoes hit the pavement in time together, and your breaths slowly start to match up. But something’s off; you feel it in your heart and your bones begin to ache again as the cold ice returns once more, spreading their chilled fingers across them.

Somehow, you find your voice, but it’s quiet and small. “It couldn’t be that bad, could it?”

Beomgyu shrugs, looking anywhere but you. He throws his head back and stares up at the night sky, where the stars kindly twinkle back at him, almost as a promise of we’d never steal you away. You look up, too, but all you see is a menacing darkness that you’re not sure you can get rid of. It feels like it’s bearing down on you, pressing down on your head, your shoulders, and your heart. With it comes a dark doubt, one that oozes into the cracks of your armor and makes you start to question things. It beckons out the dangerous thoughts—the what ifs—and coaxes them into the light and forces you to acknowledge them. What if... this changes things. What if... it ruins things. What if...

“Y/N?”

Your gaze drops back down. Beomgyu stands a few yards ahead of you, in the light of one of the yellow streetlamps. You must have stopped while lost in thought, slowing down until you ended up stuck in between two lamps, in the shadowy part. “Hm?”

He shakes his head. “You just stopped walking.” He turns toward you completely and quickens his pace until he’s beside you again. The look on his face screams of concern, of wondering if his best friend is fine or if it’s something he can’t fix. He reaches out to take your hand in his. “Is everything okay?”

Your heart swells, but it still feels as if it will break, shatter, crumble at any time or place. It feels like porcelain, that if it isn’t handled with care and marked FRAGILE, it will ruin to the point that nothing can fix it. You know what question you have to ask; it’s weighing down on your tongue and you’ll have to force it out.

You gulp, and you can feel your hand shaking in his. Beomgyu’s eyebrows knit together, his starry eyes trying to search for what’s wrong. For what is in need of helping. You stare back at him, garnering the courage to ask the question that’s been plaguing you since roles had been assigned. “The show–it won’t change anything between us, will it?”

And then, he does something unthinkable.

He laughs.

Beomgyu lets go of your hand and bends over in half, practically cackling at the idea, whisker dimples on full display. When he stands back up again, he’s still laughing hard enough he crinkles into your frame, resting a hand on your shoulder and burying his head into your neck, an arm resting across his stomach. His body shakes with laughter, and it’s infectious. A grin slowly spreads across your face, and then a giggle works its way out until the two of you are both laughing like fools. You may be between two lampposts in the shadows, but there’s light where you are.

When the laughter finally subsides to gentle smiles, Beomgyu takes your hand again and tugs you close. He starts walking again, pulling you along, swinging your arms between the two of you. He knocks into your shoulder jokingly, and the both of you smile harder.  “Of course not,” Beomgyu says. His smile is pure, assuring. The hand in yours is warm, stable. “Nothing will ever change us.”

Seventh Grade.

The auditorium was full of anxious students, the buzz of noise telling the story of those who were waiting for their turn to shine on stage. The lights were turned on as bright as they would be for a performance, and the stage was decorated with real props from last semester’s performance, a steampunk rendition of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. No one thought the director could pull it off, but when the curtains closed for the last time that first showing, everyone was left starstruck and a new round of students was inspired to try out for the next performance.

A loud clap from the director thundered through the auditorium, signaling for attention and shocking you into your seat a little further. The red fabric bristled against whatever skin your sweater didn’t cover. Outside, the harsh winter weather pummeled the barren landscape, the dead, empty tree branches getting whipped by the bitter, unforgiving wind. The light dusting of snow made everything brighter, almost to the point it hurt to look out the windows at the white world. Inside, however, was full of warm tones and warm breaths. The heat of the auditorium practically had you sweltering, making you wish you had worn layers instead of a bright green sweater. The threads around the collar began to itch at your neck, and you tugged at the hem in search of relief. You really wanted to be here. You really wanted to audition. But the number of people and how long you’ve waited has started to play mind games with you. What if they don’t get to you today? What if they skip over you entirely for someone else? Someone with more theater experience from prior years than you, a complete newbie? What if—

“Hey, uh, is this seat taken?”

You looked up, still fiddling with your itchy collar. It was the boy from the day before—Beomgyu. The one who had accidentally tripped over someone else’s backpack and thrown his lunch all over you. He looked like a complete wreck, one hand holding onto the wrist of the other arm, his dark brown hair falling into his eyes as he struggled to even look in your direction. You shelf your own nerves and offer up a kind smile and pat the seat, which he hastily filled.

It’s quiet between the two of you for a while afterward. On stage, more students rotated through songs and performances, some spectacular and others a little lackluster. It was beginning to become monotonous, and your mind started to wonder if you had gotten here earlier, would you have already auditioned by now? But then something happened. A student walked on stage, introduced themselves politely, and then began to blow everyone and every other performance out of the water. The way they moved, spoke, sang—everything they did was captivating and you felt yourself leaning forward in your seat, drawing ever nearer to the practically perfect audition. There was no music playing in the background, but their vocals and stage presence was more than enough. The entire auditorium erupted in applause when the student on stage finished.

“Wow,” you breathed out. You’d practically fallen out of the chair—feet standing on tiptoes, elbows on knees, chin rested in your cupped hands with a shimmer in your eyes. That. You wanted to be like that. Bewitching, enchanting, and utterly spellbinding.

“I know right?” the boy whispered beside you. The two of you turned to look at each other, and somehow, in the back of your mind, you registered he was sitting the same way you were, looking completely and utterly enraptured with the previous performance. He stared into your eyes—the first time, you noted—and you could see the stars, like a secret milky way full of wonder. There was a serious note in them. “Let’s both do our best so when we grow up, we can be that good.”

“No.” You shook your head, and Beomgyu’s face collapsed into confusion. You shook your head again, this time with a mischievous grin spreading across your lips. “No, when we grow up, we’ll be way better.”

A murmur ripples around campus. Sophomore year of college, and all of high school behind you. You’d think you would be used to it by now, the way quiet words spread around so sneakily but somehow always managed to make their way to your ears, too. But when the girls in the bathroom see you and slyly turn away, whispering how you and Beomgyu have the romantic leads, how of course they do, you can’t help but feel the knot in your stomach form and twist your insides until you feel pressure on your heart as well. Until it feels like you’re about to burst and spill everywhere. You want to spin at them, throw your hands out, and tell them how it’s not like that! That there’s nothing between the two of you except for friendship, the purest of kinds! Stop thinking that way!

But the wiser part of you, the one that’s been through high school, knows that they would just nod their head and try to hide their smirk. You can’t change their minds; they’ll always be thinking and imagining what they want.

Outside, the halls teem with people trying to get to their next class or break. You debate on stopping by your locker near the theater—you won’t need your books again until you go home thanks to rehearsal, but it would be out of your way to get there, on the opposite side of the arts block. But your books are heavy. Really heavy. Like shoulder-breaking, premature back pain-inducing heavy. You find that your feet have started to take you through the crowds to your locker before your mind decides on the plan itself.

In middle school, your and Beomgyu’s lockers were practically as far as they could be from one another. Yours by the gymnasium and near the arts building and the theater. With your mismatched class schedules, you only got to see each other at lunch and for theater. As your friendship grew, he would let you borrow locker space. It got to the point where you basically co-owned each other’s lockers; everything for classes on his side of the building was in his locker and everything for classes on your side was in yours.

By the time high school rolled around two grades later, the two of you were inseparable. As were your lockers. His at one end of the hall, yours at the other end on the opposite side. This only caused trouble junior year, when the two of you had such a bad falling out you could hardly bare to walk past one another’s locker let alone the other person. You would end up taking roundabout ways to your own locker, which worked until you ended up running into him one day without warning.

But you don’t have that problem now. As you walk past Beomgyu, who’s standing by his locker talking to another theater kid, you lightly slug his shoulder. You turn to walk backward and catch his reaction, and he’s staring back at you with fake confusion and his arms thrown up in the air. “You’ll pay for that!” he calls after you.

“Yeah, yeah, sure I will!”

You reach your locker, a happy smile on your face, glad your best friend is the kind of person you can beat up on. You spin the lock with precision, ready to open the door, slam your books inside on the shelf, and hurry to the theater for rehearsals. You can’t wait to see what strange exercises the director would have up his sleeve today; last time, he had everyone stand on the steps in the audience and each time they recited a line correctly, they got to move up two steps. First to the top wins; you and Beomgyu tied for first.

When you pull out the lock and swing the door open, what you see ruins your mood instantly. The crisp, white, inch-thick script stares back at you with quiet remorse. Remember me? it seems to say. Don’t forget about me. You’re almost afraid to touch it, knowing exactly what it holds in its pages even without having read a single line. If your fingers were to graze it, it’s as if an electric shock would shoot out and stop your heart from ever beating again. A tiny part of you wonders if, if your heart really did stop beating, would Beomgyu come to your side and rescue you?

Or would it be like the other night, with a sharp, bitter laugh and a mild happiness over a forgotten kiss.

You’re jostled out of your stupor by a neat punch to your arm, and you fall back into your locker with a metallic clang. When your vision focuses back on the real world, you see Beomgyu walking away from you towards the theater with a confident smirk on his face. He throws out his hands, his smile growing even wider. “I told you, you’d pay for that!”

You’re smiling too, now, and you hurry and grab the script and race after him.

It will all be okay. The two of you had already talked about it, how nothing could change between you two. Regardless of what the girls in the bathroom would dare to say in front of you. Regardless of what anyone else on campus or your major are thinking. Regardless of the script that burns slightly in your grasp, the crisp paper threatening to cut tiny slices into your delicate skin. You and Beomgyu—inseparable best friends for the rest of time.

It would always be that way. No play, no roles, no romantic leads, would get in the way of that. You’d promised each other you’d be each other’s best friend, always.

Freshman year.

Sunlight streaming through the loosely drawn curtains was what woke you, lit patterns playing across your face. Your back ached from sleeping on a couch at a crooked angle for who knows how long. You stretched and tried to pull at your sore joints, attempting to return them to pre-crooked status. The room was still dark; the lamps were all off and the only other source of light was the television, where Netflix was playing some random anime you don’t remember ever selecting or talking about. Vague memories float up to the surface slowly as you finished waking up: you and Beomgyu had turned in a big semester final project that neither of you had thought would be finished on time but somehow managed to pull off. Deciding to get take out and stay up as long as possible watching as many seasons of anime as you could fit in and—

“Boo!”

Your scream echoed through the small dorm and you pulled at the blanket on top of you, trying to hide behind the soft, comforting quilt. On the other side of the couch was Beomgyu, laughing so hard he nearly rolled off onto the shag carpet rug. You half thought about being kind, and warning him to be careful because if he fell he could hit his head on the coffee table, but the other half said he scared you and deserved whatever happened next.

“How could you be so mean!” you whined, reaching behind you to grab a pillow to throw at your best friend’s face. “How long had you been planning something like that?”

Beomgyu paused his laughter to think. “Probably since I woke up about ten minutes ago. It would have been more elaborate, but then you woke up and I ran out of time.”

“You’ll pay for that, you know,” you muttered, drawing the blankets closer against your chest, where inside your heart still beating faster than usual.

“Even after helping you with that project and pay for dinner? On a college budget?” He paused for another moment, resting his chin between his thumb and the rest of his fingers. “Wait, pay for dinner... seems like I’ve already paid for it, Y/N.”

“Beomgyu!” You lunged forward, diving towards his end of the couch. Instead of a successful attack, you landed squarely in his arms, where he proceeded to tug you tightly against his chest. Escape, you soon realized, was futile. You’d have to talk your way out of this one. “Beomgyu, let me go. Now!"

“You know, you sure are whiney when you wake up,” he commented, rustling the hair atop your head. Your heart was still beating quickly and you were convinced the flush of your cheeks was due to large bouts of boiling hot rage streaming through your veins. “And why should I?”

“I would be in a nicer mood if you hadn’t scared me!” You tried to wriggle your arms up and pry your way out, but his grip was solid still, strong and warm. Since when was he ever this strong? His cheeks, you noticed, were warm and rosy as well, but that was from laughing too hard, you were sure. Why else would they be flushed?

“You may have a point…”

“Of course, I have a point! Now let me go!”

Mischief swam around with the stars in your best friend’s eyes. You could practically see the gears turning in his head, planning something you could only hope wasn’t entirely embarrassing. One eyelid dropped shut, and the smirk on his lips was unmistakable. “I will, but only if you pay for breakfast. From somewhere nice,” he rushes to add. “Student union doesn’t count.”

You released a terse sigh, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “Fine! Deal! Now, release me!”

His arms slid away and you rolled over onto the floor, gently landing between the couch and the coffee table. The carpet was rough against your bare arms, but you were glad to be freed from Beomgyu’s death grip.

He was situated on the edge of the couch, chin resting lazily on his forearm, his eyes filled with mild shock and awe. “Really?” he gasped, as if he couldn’t actually believe you’d agreed. “Even if it’s the overpriced brunch food from the boutique down the street?”

You sighed, staring back at him.  “Yes. Even the brunch food from the boutique down the street.”

A moment of stillness, then...

“I’m glad we’re best friends," he said plainly, no hesitation in his voice. His dark eyes had warmed to a welcoming honest color, the kind some people could describe as home. The air around the two of you was still, a precious silence that quietly begged to be broken softly. Outside, the morning birds began to sing their late winter tune, beckoning spring to arrive as soon as possible. The sun filtered through the tiny windows brightly now, filling the dorm with warm yellow like that made everything feel nostalgic. Like the perfect ’80s movie.

When you found your voice, your words were soft but not timid. They held the same amount of honesty and weight as his had. “Me, too. We’re best friends, always.”

A soft smile played at Beomgyu’s lips as he echoed your promise. “Always.”

The walk back to your apartment is chilly. Even though the sun shone brightly ahead, the first freeze of the season the night prior plunged your town from late autumn into early winter. What few leaves remain on the trees might as well be frozen on, and the rest of the dead ones scattered around on the pavement, crunchy husks of their former selves. It’s daylight, but you can easily imagine if darkness were shrouded around you, your breaths would be rising out in front of you in vague translucent puffs. Cold describes everything in sight.

Beomgyu is close by your side, nestled in that ridiculously oversized scarf of his. Christmas is a while away, but you’re already planning on getting him a nice, Beomgyu-sized scarf, probably a deep brown to match his eyes.

“What’cha thinking about?” His voice, clear as crystal, cuts through the air like a sharpened knife, but it doesn’t startle you. It’s warm and inviting against the bitter winter weather, a gentle fire among the cold.

“What I’m gonna get you for Christmas,” you reply, burying your hands into your coat pockets. The pavement scuffs beneath your boots, the walk back home growing boring. As you crossed the street where you two used to part ways freshman year, him to the left and you to the right, you remember when he said his parents told him they were moving during high school. How distraught the two of you became, only to find out he was moving in across the street from your house. Now, you split the rent for a two bedroom apartment. “How about you?”

“To be completely honest, I’m wishing I had remembered my gloves this morning, because right now, my hands are extremely cold.”

You laugh, a bright chuckle, and pull your own hands out of your pockets, staring down at the grey gloves cloaking your fingertips. You hold out your hand towards him. “Want to take one?”

Beomgyu scoffs. “And let you suffer from an equally terrible fate as myself? I think not. At least one of us needs to live.”

You laugh again, throwing your hands back into your pocket. “Fine, be that way.” You cut in front of him, dashing over to the short decorative stone wall running as a divider between the grassy park and the sidewalk. In a quick hop, you’re walking along the top as it gradually slopes higher to the point your feet are even with Beomgyu’s waist.

He stares up at you as you hold your arms at length on either side of you, a small frown playing on his lips. “Be careful,” he warns, the tone of his voice surprisingly stern, something he rarely treats you with. When you look down, you see his brows creased as he follows your pace.

“Yeah, okay, dad,” you laugh, finding the bitter look on Beomgyu’s face amusing. The stone wall beneath your feet is sturdy, and your balance is just as solid. Years of strange theater exercises had brought you that. You can even see your apartment down the street; you’d walk all the way atop this wall, taller now still, and show him.  You’ll get to the end and hop off dramatically and tease him for worrying. He keeps pace with you perfectly, still by your side even if there’s distance. The look in Beomgyu’s eyes tells you he wants to reprimand you, take you by the waist and set you safely on the sidewalk before scolding you on every reason why you shouldn’t have done that. But you don’t need him to. You’re perfectly safe with no reason to worry and—

You’ve misstepped.

Your foot is too far from the center, closer to the edge of the stonewall than you had anticipated. There’s not enough foot on the edge to save it. Your impressive balance is misplaced even further as your arms circle widely at your sides, trying in vain to regain some semblance of stability. You can feel yourself pitch sideways, your feet finally coming out from beneath you, and now you’re looking up at the crystal blue sky.

There’s not a cloud in sight, odd for this early winter day, and for the shortest of moments, it’s like you're falling through the atmosphere. The cold wind biting at your cheeks is caused by your descent. The screams you hear are just the air rushing past your ears, calling your name, not anyone else. The clunk of bodies hitting the pavement is just an illusion.

Your vision snapping to black is just a mistake, a cruel trick of fate, like the dark doubts that swarm around your head when you’re all alone. The blackness is almost welcoming, and you succumb quietly.

Twelfth Grade

Four weeks.  Just under a month. Your life had gone from bold with color and emotion to two steps from dead and lifeless. Subjects you’d once enjoyed, now dull and monotonous. Walks to school were boring. Lunch and free period were non-committal. You’d skipped theater more than your fingers could count; you’d gotten an email from the director asking if everything was okay.

But it wasn’t. Nothing was.

Because it had been four weeks, just under a month, since you’d talked to your best friend.

What you’d even been fighting over, you couldn’t remember. That entire night is a fogged mess in your memory banks, existing but inaccessible. You know it’s there, but your brain, or maybe your heart, refuses to replay the details for you. The only information it relays is that there was a fight, and somehow some kind of words were said that ended in hot tears and storming out of houses with no goodbyes, take cares, or any sign of always.

Life since then had been weird, like you had shifted from one plane of existence but the world didn’t shift with you. Like a blurry camera shot, where one part of the image is in focus with fuzzy edges but everything else is shaken and smeared like thick wet paint.

All the love and joy theater had brought you since seventh grade was gone, five years nearly shattered to pieces inside your nearly-broken heart. You had no idea when the light would return, or if you would ever act again. It was so closely entwined to him, it physically hurt to walk near the theater or even think of certain plays.

Just like it hurt in the classes you shared. Sitting across the room from each other as far as possible, as opposed to right next to each other and sharing looks and soft smiles. The other students and even the teachers were left in a mild tailspin of confusion. There was never a scene made, nor any words spoken. Glances weren’t exchanged anymore. You never looked in his direction; your heart would ache far too much to handle.

Different pathways were even chosen to get between classes. You didn’t want a chance encounter in the halls, you couldn’t handle it. You guessed he couldn’t either, because you never saw him. There were never any accidental meet ups by your lockers, either.

Your plan had been to skip theater again and take the bus home, riding it around until it dropped you off last. You wouldn’t have to see him, it wouldn’t have to hurt, for that day at least. But you were running late, another teacher asking if you were okay needing brushing off. You needed to hurry and stop by your locker to retrieve your books. The bus was leaving soon; if you wanted to leave, you’d need to rush.

The halls were empty, everyone either in their after school clubs or outside waiting for the buses. You hurried to your locker, fingers anxious to spin the code in, grab your books, and leave. You reached inside, ready to retrieve the books by their spine and disappear from this place for what would feel like a short eternity. The hall was too bright, too empty, too--

“Y/N?”

Your heart skipped a beat, head whipping to the side. Beomgyu stood mere feet from you, but he might as well have been a thousand miles away. There were no longer any stars in his eyes, no warmth or cheer. They were sad, dark pits of self-doubt. They were muted screams, begging for help but not being quite loud enough. The dark circles under his eyes pleaded as well, and the downturn of his lips was what sent your stoic, bored, “I can make this” facade spiraling downwards.

You reached forward instinctively, wanting to cup his cheek with your hand and gently rub away the dark circles with your thumb, but you froze midway. Your voice even hitched. “Beomgyu... you look…”

“Awful? Dreadful? Like hell?” he filled in for you, and you couldn’t help but nod. Your chest was tight, almost to the point you wanted to clutch and tear at your heart to find relief. And the way your best friend was standing, shoulders slumped and body looking one strong wind from caving in like a fragile house of cards, it seemed like his heart was aching, too.

“What happened to us?” you asked, voice quiet and quivering. The hot buildup of tears began behind your eyes, making the edges of your vision blur together in a mass of sad, muted tones. “Why did we—”

“I don’t know,” he answered quickly, anxiously, as if he doesn’t speak fast, he’ll lose you again. He took a tender step forward, leaving only a few feet between you, but it was still too much space. You missed being side by side, close enough to bump into each other’s shoulders or elbow each other’s sides. Beomgyu took another tiny step towards you when you didn't move back. “What were we even fighting about?”

“I don’t know.” You felt like one step away from crumbling inwards, clasping in on yourself and all the way to the cool hallway floor. Your hands were shaking now at your sides, and you gripped your hoodie hem to prevent the shivers from racing up your arms and shaking the rest of you until you shattered into tiny shards. The moment your fingers curled around the soft hem was when you realized: it was his. You’d thrown in on that morning without even thinking. Now, all you could notice was how strongly, how nicely it smelled like him. You took in a solid breath of air to prevent the tears from spilling over, but it was shaky and unconvincing. “Whatever we were fighting about, it’s not worth this. I miss you, Beomgyu.”

His eyes were still empty, no stars in sight, but now they were glossy with tears. His chin quivered, and his lips moved to say something but couldn’t. His fingers curled and uncurled around the leather strap of his messenger bag. His voice was quiet when he finally spoke. “I miss you. So much it hurts to breathe, so much I can’t stand to look at you in class or else I feel like crying. Whatever I did, I’m sorry. Please, please, forgive me and be my best friend again. I don’t think I can take life without you anymore.”

The both of you lunged forward at the same time, wrapping each other in a hug. Your arms clung to his neck while his encircled your waist, holding you close. Warm, salty tears finally spilled over, running down your cheek and onto the soft denim of his jacket. By his shaky breaths, you figured he was crying, too. “I don’t want you not in my life anymore either,” you managed, hoping somehow that you’d made sense.

Beomgyu laughed in your arms, drawing you even nearer. “Good, because I really didn’t want to have to explain to your father why I was standing under your window with my guitar instead of just letting myself in like usual.”

You laughed too, but the kind of broken laugh where you find pure happiness just after harsh sadness. Your heart swelled with joy, knowing that Beomgyu was still yours. The time you’d spent apart, not talking or goofing around or shoving each other playfully with stupid grins on both of your faces, had been life-draining. You’d never get it back, even if you spent forever together. You never wanted to go through anything like that ever again.

Beomgyu nestled into the crook of your neck, words whispered so quietly you knew instantly that they were just for you. “We’re each other’s best friends, always. Right?”

You wrap your arms around even tighter, a true smile on your face for the first time in weeks. “Right. Always, Beomgyu, always.”

The apartment is quiet. The shades are drawn open, allowing late afternoon sunlight to spill in and swim around on soft carpet floors, bathing them in warm yellow light. The television in the corner is on but mute, the news airing with no noise. The heater kicked on a minute or so ago, filling the house with nicely warm air. Outside, soft baby snowflakes begin to fall out of the sky, the first snowfall of the season. If the sound had been on, you would have known that the weatherman said the snow was no reason for concern—it wouldn’t accumulate to the point it was dangerous. Just a light dusting, something to make the outdoors look nice and wintry.

But you are unconcerned with whatever the weatherman’s words may be or the consequences of the snow. There are more pressing concerns.

Your voice warbles as you pull out the first aid kit from above the washer and walk back into the living room. “Beomgyu, I’m so so sorry, I—” You bite down on your lower lip to prevent yourself from crying; there wasn’t time for that now.  The white plastic lid snaps open, and you pull out the gauze, the alcohol wipes, and the bandages with shaky hands. He sits on the edge of the couch, one hand bracing himself on the cushion, the wounded one resting tenderly on his lap.

You lower to stand on your knees and reach out to take the hurt one in yours. You stare down at his split second knuckle, an ugly gash that would surely scar no matter how kindly or tenderly you treated it. Caused because of your stupidity, your recklessness. Caused because you tripped or slipped or something and fell off the wall. Caused because he risked his safety to catch you. You feel your heart break, knowing the scar would be your fault, forever, and you can’t ever fix it no matter how hard you try.

There’s no going back, or rewinding time to try again.

Beomgyu winces as you wipe at the cut with the alcohol wipes, and you mutter sorry after sorry. It’s beginning to not even feel like a real word. You can feel your chest heaving, one step away from a total breakdown as you swim through deep and measured breaths. Guilt pours over you like a thick syrup, sticking to every surface and threatening to drag you down and drown you whole. It fills into the cracks of your armor, bubbling up inside you like a witch’s brew. As you place the gaze and wrap the bandages around his hand, your breaths are coming shallower and shallower, your ability to keep it together fading. When you tie the bandages into place, you let go and drop to sit on your heels, all energy gone. Your head hangs in shame, and you wish you could crawl away and hide somewhere until further notice.

Which would be easier if you didn’t share a damn apartment.

However, your best friend won’t let you.

“Hey,” he calls, his voice soft and soothing. His healthy hand curls under your chin, gently begging you to look up, and you comply. His eyes are calm and filled with stars again,  and other emotions you can’t quite place. He smiles kindly, and you can feel your heart shatter at that instant. Right now, you don’t deserve that kindness. Your shoulders spike up and tears begin to spill over. Beomgyu’s face collapses into concern, and he slides off the couch to sit on the floor next to you, legs crossed.

When he places his hands on your shoulders, you try to shake them off. “Please, just...” Your voice falls away. How could you ever apologize for what happened? You knew you shouldn’t have, and yet you did. You knew he seriously disapproved, even if he didn’t voice it totally, and yet you continued. You knew, deep down, that you were getting cocky, and yet you didn’t stop. You had plans on teasing him, mocking him for his concern. The guilt presses down and down, crunching against your head, your shoulders, and your heart until you could scarcely breathe. Quiet sobs heave against your frame, from your torso down to your whole body. You could tell, soon, that you’d simply shake apart into fragments that could never be pieced together again.

You injured your best friend from your own stupidity.

“Hey,” Beomgyu says again, and this time, he reaches for you and pulls you into his lap, safely tucking you under his chin. You don’t resist, and even if you wanted to, you doubt you could have done it past all the crying. He gently rocks you back and forth, rubbing your back, soothing you as one would a small child. Once your sobs have subsided, and your breaths return to a semi-normal state, he speaks again. “I don’t hate you for what happened, if that’s what you think. I could never, I…”

You pull yourself slightly from his grasp, enough to stare at him at eye level, coming out from underneath the warm spot of his chin and neck and shoulder. The emotions swirling around amongst the stars in his eyes are new and unusual to yet, and some part of you feels at home with them. Your voice is quiet, almost hesitant, when you talk. “You... what?”

Beomgyu takes a breath, as if steeling himself. "I have something I need to tell you."

"Need?" you echo, head quirking to one side in confusion.

He nods, staring straight into your eyes. When he speaks, his tone is something you’ve rarely ever heard before. “Need. My chest might burst if I don’t get this off it, and that wouldn’t really help me graduate. Or tell you this. So... and seeming we might as well have almost died…” You roll your eyes at his dramatics, and Beomgyu seems hesitant, but only for a moment. Years of going up on stage have prepared him, but you can tell in this instance, he’s honest, 100% himself, and your best friend, not some actor playing a character for some play. 

He takes another breath before: “I think I’m in love with you.”

Your eyes grow wide, a small gasp escapes your lips, but he doesn’t stop.

“No, that’s not right. I know I’m in love with you. I’ve loved you for a long time but this... this is different. I want to keep you safe, to wipe away any of your tears. Seeing you sad just... tears at my heart. It hurts. Whenever you're sad or upset, I feel the same way, even if it’s just words over a text message. I really did feel like I was going to die when we had that fight. Living without you was unimaginable, but I had to go four weeks without you. Without your voice, your stupid jokes, your laugh. I guess I was in love with you then, too, I just didn’t know it.”

Words escape you, any witty comeback gone. You stare at him, the honesty in his eyes, thinking you’d see him differently after his confession. But you don’t. He’s still Beomgyu. He’s still your best friend. He’s still your Beomgyu.

One of your hands raises, and you tap yourself on your sternum. “Me?”

Beomgyu rolls his eyes now, as if he expected some kind of response like this. “Yes, you. I mean, who else would look up at the night sky, invent a star-monster, then worry about it taking me? I’ve wondered if I was really in love with you, like really actually in love with you. But when you fell and I caught you and you blacked out and I didn’t know why... Y/N, I was so worried. I could feel my heart breaking and I knew that if you never woke up, I wouldn’t ever be the same again.”

He’s mere inches from you, arms around you, body heat radiating off in such pleasant ways you feel okay with melting straight into the floor. His hands move from around your back to ghost around your face, like they want to caress you but are too afraid you might shatter like a fine porcelain under his touch. And his eyes—damn, his eyes. Every star, every galaxy, stirring together to create a beautiful milky way, a gaze so firm and caring you feel as if you’ll never look away. That if you somehow managed, too, you’d feel as if you were missing something dear and important.

Your heart flutters in your chest, its beat stuttery against your wrists. Oh, how on earth did you get here?

Maybe it was when one was so starstruck by the other they stopped watching where they were walking and dripped over someone’s strewn out, overstuffed backpack. When the other offered up a seat beside them during the audition to help settle nerves. Maybe it was when they woke up next to each other after having fallen asleep after binge watching an entire anime season or two, with Netflix on some other autoplay show, one was wondering how the other could look so soft and delicate just after they wake. When the other was happy that they were in each other’s lives. Maybe it was when they declared they’d always be friends, best friends, but now always seems to be more weighty and mean a little more than before.

Maybe, just maybe, this is when they slowly turn towards each other, catching the starry glint in the other’s eye. When they slowly lean forward, ever closer, to the point they can feel one another’s soft breath. When gazes go from eyes to lips and back. When heartbeats slowly start to be harder and louder. When you feel like you might be the one crying because oh heavens—this is it.

But there are things those plays never mention, things the audience can never detect.

They never mention how the palms of hands become sweaty, or how automatic it is to take a soft breath before another pair of lips meets yours, a touch so delicate you finally understand what all the hype is about.

How nice it feels to have two hands cupping your cheeks so gently, their little fear of shattering you gone, or how your own hand curls into the fabric of his shirt as if it’s second nature, the most right thing in the world.

How tantalizingly dizzy a first kiss is.

How soft lips are, how soothingly warm to the point you wouldn’t mind if they were all you felt. How tender goosebumps trail down your spine until something begins to pool in your stomach.

How, even though you’ve become utterly breathless, you can’t stop at just one, because now something that's been building and growing for years has unlocked.

Hands that trail from cheeks to ghost over the nape of the neck, sliding down arms softly to then find purchase at your waist. Kisses, more warm, tantalizing kisses that leave you craving for more. Kisses that roam from lips to chins, then trail down the jaw to tease and nip tender patches of skin on necks, only to return to corners of lips for more wholehearted, dizzying kisses.

You’re warm, almost hot, but it’s so pleasant. What exposed skin you have tingles with feeling, with a craving touch and affection, too. The two of you rest your forehead on one another’s, breath still shallow from all the kisses exchanged, hands softly interlocked with fingers entwined, or as much as one can with bandaged knuckles. He finds his voice first, though even it is soft and a little hoarse. “I should have done that a long time ago, huh?”

You giggle and snuggle closer, nestling into the crook of his neck. You place a kiss underneath his chin. Beomgyu rubs even patterns on your back with his healthy hand while you take the bandaged one in your own, cradling it gently. You pull it up to your own lips, kissing where each knuckle is softly. When you look up, you see the stars glowing in his eyes, brighter than anytime you’ve ever seen them. 

Beomgyu sighs, eyes softening at the corners. “I guess the kiss in the play won’t matter anymore, hm?”

You lightly slug in him the shoulder, a love-filled smile playing on your lips. He smiles back in a similar manner, his eyes lighting up with happiness. “Oh, and I guess this means you love me back, too.”

People fill and mingle around the diner, looking for an open seat among the crowds of customers. And older couple swoops in as soon as you vacate the booth, not even caring that your dirty dishes were still neatly stacked at the edge awaiting pick up. But you didn’t mind. You push through the doors to wait outside while Beomgyu paid. Even though there’s a small crowd at the counter, you knew exactly which one he was. Beomgyu wore his light blue jacket, the one that accentuated all his features nicely. You’d have to make sure that whatever Beomgyu-sized scarf you bought matched that jacket. He needed to wear it as often as possible.

The first official date was almost over, but you knew there would be many more to come. 

Once he’s finished paying, Beomgyu makes a beeline for the door, carefully navigating around all the people crowding the entryway. “Is it always this busy?” you ask when he rejoins you.

Beomgyu shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah, I guess so. But knowing you, the most gorgeous person ever alive, would be there waiting for me was very motivational.”

You do little to hid your smile.

He takes your hand in his, interlacing your fingers as if it were second nature. Maybe, it was, and you two had just been trying to ignore it. This walk from the diner back to your apartment had been done countless times before, but this one is special. And now, you think, it really is your apartment. 

Beomgyu starts to casually rub gentle circles onto your skin with his thumb. “It’s the perfect kind of weather for me to take off my jacket and give it to you to keep you warm, you know.” He then takes a deep sigh and throws his head back. His next words come out playfully clipped. “But, someone had to be smart and wear their jacket.”

“Well, you’re not dating a fool,” you chuckle. When you notice Beomgyu pouting, eyes downcast away from you, you laugh again and poke him in the shoulder to get his attention. “Thank you anyway, Beomgyu, for always thinking of me.”

He turns back to you, all smiles. “Darling, I don’t think I could stop thinking of you even if I tried.”

“Ew, gross.” You laugh, white curls of breath forming in front of you. But, unlike last time, there is no cold or ice in sight. No dark thoughts and doubts plague you tonight. You’re delightfully warm and happy.

“Ew, gross yourself,” Beomgyu mimics, throwing his tone to match yours. “I’m cold too, by the way. So I guess thanks for thinking of me by thinking of yourself. God, you’re like the smartest person ever.”

As the walk home continues, so does the conversation. "Our parents seemed pretty happy when we told them, huh?" Beomgyu mentions, a smile playing at his lips.

“Maybe they planned it,” you muse. “Maybe the director was in on it. They wrote it all together because they decided it was now or never.”

Laughter fills the air, and even in the dark spots between the lampposts are filled with light.

You nudge your shoulder into Beomgyu’s, garnering his attention. “Can I ask you a question?” When he nods, eager to hear what you have to say, you continue. “Why did you throw your lunch on me that day in seventh grade?”

“That was an honest mistake!” he exclaims, eyes filled with desperate honesty. The blush along his cheeks as he looks away is readily apparent. When he looks up, his eyes are filled with sincerity. “But sitting next to you on audition day wasn’t.”

A soft smile plays at the corner of your lips. “I’m glad I got there late, then.”

“Me, too.” A moment of silence falls between you, but it’s comfortable, like an overtly fluffy blanket made just for two. Afterward, Beomgyu is the first to speak again. “Okay, I’ve confessed something from our past that’s mildly embarrassing yet still endearing. Now it’s your turn.” He turns to you with a mischievous grin on his lips.  "’Fess up, darling."

It takes a small instant, before: “Oh! You know that time we stayed up all night and watched anime after that big project? When we woke up the next morning, even though you scared the hell out of me, I thought you were pretty cute.”

Beomgyu’s eyebrows quirk up, his grin grows wider. “Cute? Me? You thought I was cute?”

Pink blush rushes to your cheeks before you smack him on the shoulder. You drop his hand and quicken your pace. “You were cute, you’re not anymore.”

Beomgyu races to catch up with you, takes your hand again, and bumps into your shoulder gently. “Of course I’m not cute anymore. I’m handsome.”

You make a fake gag. “Oh, please!” There’s no sense of lightness when you shove his shoulder.

“Hey, now,” he says, rubbing his shoulder with his free hand, another fake pout on his lips. “Be nice to your boyfriend.”

You scoff. “Is that what you are now?”

“What else would I be? More than friends but not a boyfriend…” Beomgyu’s eyes brighten as he lets go of your hand and snaps his fingers. “Aha! Your husband!”

You shove him with two hands this time. The idea of being with him like that is overwhelming to the max. “Fine, you’re my boyfriend, then.” The word feels foreign on your tongue, but you can easily imagine them growing comfortable. Your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your Beomgyu.

He slings his arm over your shoulder and pulls you close as your apartment slowly grows larger in the distance.  He leans his head over and rests it gently on yours. “I guess I lied,” he mutters, and you pull back confused even with his eyes on you, rich and loving. “I told you the play wouldn’t change things between us.”

A smile slowly spreads across your face. “But... we changed in a good way, right?”

Beomgyu answers you with a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, caressing your shoulders kindly and pulling you just a little closer. “Yeah, we changed in a good way.”