#hopefully everyone will like it by then by mere exposure

[annberr-arts]

yakunoya doodle

[nametakensff]

I like you too (S/teddie)

So after fucking forever I have finally finished the ~getting together~ fic of my mutual fetish AU 💕 Anyone who is still interested after like a year of teasing this shit, I hope you enjoy 17.8k of these idiots 🥲❤️

Following his embarrassing allergy attack at S/teve's house the night prior, having figured out S/teve may actually have the same interests, E/ddie starts up on his plan to drive S/teve crazy with his allergies - hopefully to the point of drawing a confession out of him. What could possibly go wrong?

(Carrying on directly from this fic, but you don't need to re-read it!)

~~~~~

Content:

M/M, pre-relationship then getting together, both S/teve and E/ddie have the fetish, E/ddie gets off to his own sneezing, hay fever sneezes, sneezing from manual inducing, sneezing from fragrance, sneezing from direct exposure to flowers, inducing someone else, spray, handkerchiefs, lots of making out lol, masturbation, teasing, exhibitionism/voyeurism, hand jobs, frotting, dirty talk, teasing, sneezing on each other

CW: Internalised homophobia, threats of physical violence, shame towards the fetish, E/ddie really pushes S/teve's boundaries and they get ANGSTY, did I mention angst, miscommunication and jealousy, S/teve is a messy airhead who sneezes all over items in public and does not clean it up, they have a brief bad time before a good one

~~~~~~

NSFW, minors please DNI!

“…-ddie. Hey, Eddie.”

“..mmmn?”

Eddie felt the welcome cocoon of sleep receding at the sensation of a finger jabbing persistently into his ribs. He snorted unhappily, attempting to roll away from the unwelcome prods but merely earning himself an even harder prod between his shoulder blades. Willing himself to pass back out wasn’t working. He grumbled and peered blearily over his shoulder through a mess of curls. Max’s placid face hovered over him. He blinked dumbly up at her, momentarily unaware of what Mayfield was doing in his bedroom. Then he heard a giggle - another girl. His eyes swivelled to El, lingering behind Max, a cheeky grin on her face as she took in the sight of his hazy confusion.

“Wha..?”

“Steve told us to wake you up and ask you what you wanted for breakfast.”

“…Steve?”

And just like that, he remembered everything. Hanging out at Steve’s place. His insane allergic reaction in front of everybody. And Steve…Steve had come to reassure him in the bathroom. And he’d –

“Well, fuck.” Eddie blurted out and snorted a little in amusement, making the two girls jump.

Steve had fucking liked that shit. He was convinced of it. God. He closed his eyes and grinned, a sudden, childish giddiness overwhelming him.

“Um…Okay…?”

Eddie’s eyes snapped open. The girls. Right.

“Shit, yeah – sorry, Red. I’m fine with whatever – cereal, toast, you know – whatever he’s offering.”

He shifted and pulled himself into an upright sitting position, about to swing his legs over the side of – Steve’s? Definitely Steve’s – bed, when he suddenly realised that he was very naked, aside from his boxers. Max took one glance at the bare torso he struggled to shield with two scrambling palms and seemed to pick up on his dilemma – super smart kid – before pulling El by the wrist towards the door.

“Cereal. Toast. Got it.” She droned, not bothering to look back. El pulled the door shut behind them, and Eddie heard the pair of them giggle as they made their way downstairs.

Now that he was alone, he sighed heavily and took the time to glance around. Yep, it was Steve’s room, all right. As neat and empty as his own was chaotic. He remembered that last night he’d taken more allergy meds and all but passed out in the living room while the movie viewing had commenced. It kind of sucked that he’d been unconscious for it, but it beat sneezing his head off uncontrollably for a captive audience any more than he already had. He blushed a little, still embarrassed by the whole thing despite the litany of reassurances and concern everyone had directed his way the second he reemerged from his shameful little sanctuary in the bathroom. He’d made a scene, passed out and – maybe, somehow, woken up long enough to get to Steve’s room and strip down before climbing into his bed? He blinked. Total blackout.

He noticed an inflatable mattress with a discarded blanket sprawled across it lying on the floor next to the bed. Presumably, Steve had slept there. Eddie felt both relieved and disappointed – sharing a bed with Steve was pure fantasy fodder, but to be so drugged up he couldn’t remember it would have been weird and more than a little depressing. Especially now that he knew Steve’s little secret. Their little secret. He smirked, couldn’t help it, almost vibrating with excitement at what he knew he had to do. Operation: tease Steve with his allergies until something fucking gives.

It was a ridiculous and somewhat risky plan – or so he would have thought, if he hadn’t seen in Steve a mirror image of his own fetishistic arousal, clear as day. He felt emboldened, convinced that this was the perfect little way to segue into a relationship of some kind with the former jock. His allergies were as good an ice-breaker as any. Speaking of…

Eddie’s nostrils began to flare, that oh-so familiar buzzing irritation creeping its way through his sinuses. It wasn’t nearly as bad as yesterday when he’d effectively sneezed himself awake, thank god – maybe that double dose of meds he’d taken had a lingering effect? Either way, he was going to have to sneeze, a regular part of his morning routine this time of year. He allowed himself to settle back against the headboard, steeling himself as his breath hitched up and up, eyes scrunching closed as the tingling itch morphed into a sharper, more definitive tickle. It may not have been as demanding as the morning prior, but it was teasing, leaving him trapped in what felt like a never-ending buildup. He found himself waving a hand in front of his face, eyelashes damp with allergic tears. He hoped the desperate gesture would hasten the tickle along – if not, it felt relieving to have something to do whilst otherwise incapacitated.

Finally, after a couple of embarrassingly dramatic false starts that both amused and aroused him as they echoed out in the (thankfully) empty room, the tickle reached its apex. His shoulders shook with three rapid hitches of breath, mouth gaping open and pink tongue cupping itself against his bottom teeth. At last he was curling forward with an intensely relieving fit.

"HehH'ENGxt'TSchieww!! IhH'TSHieww!! ESSHieww! Huh'ISSSHhuu!! Eh'Ngxtt'ieww!!"

He let them out unhindered, not wanting to sneeze directly into the fabric of the bed sheets, but for lack of any means to cover other than his hands, he decided he would rather save himself the mess. He sneezed openly and down towards his lap, sending a delicate aerosol of spray across Steve’s bedding. As he shook with each eruption, his mind couldn’t help but conjure up the image of Steve stood in the doorway of his bedroom, watching him as he lost control, enjoying the way he was utterly helpless to the tickle in his itchy, pink nose.

"Hh-HH-!! Hah'ESHHhieww!! AESH'uuu!! Hh'IGSHH'uu!! ETCHH'iewww!! Hah!! HahH'DZZtt'Shieww!!

He was hard now, fantasies even more potent than usual. This revelation about Steve, that it was something in the realm of reality that he could – no, would – enjoy seeing him like this – it all but destroyed any means of control he had over his wandering thoughts. Through the rest of his fit he pictured the look of hunger he’d seen in Steve’s eyes the night prior – imagined Steve joining him on the bed, whispering blessings and assurances as he sneezed and dripped all over the two of them. He imagined Steve crawling into bed with him, under the sheets he had thoroughly sprayed with the result of his allergies. He even entertained the indulgent thought of Steve experiencing an unexpected (but welcome) allergic reaction of his own, returning the favour as they rutted against each other.

"hh-!! OHh, fuck! HAH!! DZZTTt'shiiewww!! IGSHH'Uuuu!! hHDT’TISShhuuu!! hh-!! HAHGK'TSHHhieww!!"

His hand was on his cock, stroking and massaging in rhythm with each explosion that racked his slender frame. He shouldn’t be doing this, not while there were kids downstairs - jerking off to his own sneezes and thoughts of Steve in Steve’s bed whilst the man in question was busy making breakfast for him. Luckily, his fit was beginning to taper off, giving him enough reprieve to stand on shaky legs and manoeuvre himself over the air mattress and into Steve’s en-suite. He sneezed as he closed the door behind him, sneezed as he pulled his cock through the slit of his boxers, and sneezed as he jerked himself off into the porcelain basin of Steve’s immaculate sink.

~~~~~

Eddie stood in front of the mirror, scrunching his curls in his palms and up towards his scalp, tutting with dissatisfaction at his sub-par reflection. His unruly hair refused to cooperate, flattened in some places from sleeping awkwardly and miserably tangled in others. After he’d cum in several long streaks into the basin of the sink, moaning and steadying himself against the countertop with a shaky grip, his mind had been cleared enough to pull himself together.

Upon re-entering Steve’s room, he noticed his jeans and t-shirt, neatly folded and placed on Steve’s desk chair, as well as a little box of antihistamines and a glass of water on the bedside table. He’d dressed quickly and eagerly gulped down the water and meds, doing as best he could to untangle his mane (to little avail). He’d also taken the opportunity to clear out any residual tickles from his itchy nose into a handful of blissfully soft tissues; he was sensitive enough that just a few swipes of the delicate material against the arches of his nostrils pulled several shuddering sneezes out of him. Blowing his nose into them felt great, too. He picked up the box and turned it round in his hands, the brand name unrecognisable to him. He thought for a moment he should ask Steve where the fuck he was finding tissues like these, because it certainly wasn’t any local store he’d been privy to. It was ridiculous that the thought of doing so, discussing tissues with Steve, threatened to make him hard again. Maybe he needed a cold shower. Or a regular warm one, where he could…work through these thoughts, cock in hand.

The sound of raucous laughter from downstairs – Dustin, and then El – had him shaking his head and laughing in near-disbelief at his own uncontrollably dirty ruminations. Holy fuck, he had to pull himself together. He did just that, making his way downstairs at last, heart beating just a little bit faster at the thought of seeing Steve.

~~~~~

Gingerly walking into the kitchen, Eddie was greeted with several enthusiastic shouts from both Dustin and Robin, the former sitting at the kitchen table with El and Max, whilst Robin sat haphazardly on the kitchen counter next to the stove at which Steve was cooking some (heavenly smelling) eggs. Scrambled, by the looks of it. Eddie felt his stomach give a little growl. He was altogether starving. He brought his gaze up from the pan and locked eyes with Steve; for a split second, it felt to Eddie like they were frozen in time, something palpable and electric in the air. The hair-raising sensation vanished as quickly as it had come on, however, Steve nodding to him with a tender (if slightly nervous looking) smile and turning his attention back to the food. Eddie blinked. A little less…enthusiastic than he had hoped. Deciding not to dwell on the matter, he pulled up a chair next to Dustin, who promptly patted him on the arm.

“You okay, man?” He asked, looking up at Eddie with a look so patronisingly pitying that he barked a laugh back at him almost immediately. Dustin promptly pulled back his hand and stared at Max and El in precocious disbelief, gesturing back towards Eddie.

“Wow, you try to be there for a guy, and he laughs in your face!” the teen started dramatically, throwing his arms up. He’d clearly expected a more clandestine and grateful response from the metalhead. It was cute – he was as an obnoxious, chatty little shit, and Eddie was incredibly fond of him.

“Yeah, Dustin, ‘m’fine. I’m just busting your chops, okay?” He said as he ruffled Dustin’s hair, pulling him into a one armed hug. After a brief scuffle and a relatively painless noogie delivered via Eddie’s (ringless…mostly) right hand, the older man let go and slapped him reassuringly on the back a couple of times.

“Why do boys do – that?” El asked Max, having observed the entire affair in shocked silence.

“What – physically assault each other? It’s just how boys express love. Like men.” Max offered, rolling her eyes in a way that made El giggle in appreciation. They were definitely a cute little pair of trouble-makers, Eddie had to admit. He could take the jab. Boys were pretty dumb – as one (or, he guessed, an ex-boy – he was all man now, baby) he could definitely vouch for that. He just grinned at them as Dustin engaged Max in a squabble. It was endearing enough that he let himself get lost in listening to them bicker; the pair of them could sure go toe to toe with brutal sarcasm. It was so entertaining that he didn’t notice Steve approaching him until he felt a gentle touch on his arm.

“Hey, man.” Steve started once Eddie turned to look up at him. He stood a little awkwardly – tentatively resting his hand on Eddie’s shoulder like the older man was a delicate structure, a house of cards ready to go down with even the slightest disturbance. It irked Eddie. He wanted to cut through all the awkwardness and jump straight to the part where they had each other’s cocks in hand. Or at least each other’s tongues in their mouths.

Remember the children, Munson. It wouldn’t do to try anything quite so forward right now. Robin was watching the placement of Steve’s hand on his shoulder from her perch on the kitchen counter. And Buckley, too. Steve’s…well, definitely not his girlfriend, that much was clear. He didn’t want to overthink whatever the fuck they had going on – it didn’t seem romantic, least of all because they’d emphatically reinforced the fact with the whole ‘platonic with a capital P’ shtick. Either way, it would probably be best to work his way up to things gradually and without company.

“Hey, yourself.” He smiled his most winning smile up at Steve and was delighted to receive a brilliantly open smile in return. Whatever Steve had been worried about, it seemed to dissipate with just that small gesture.

“How are you feeling? Got breakfast for you, if you’re hungry.” Steve gestured to the stove. Robin contributed by throwing jazz hands in the general direction of the food and smiling warmly at him.

“I’m good. I could sure eat.”

Steve nodded, then hesitated for a moment. His eyes darted over Eddie’s face, making eye contact for a moment then drifting away again. Eddie cocked his head to the side a little but didn’t look away. It was clear Steve had something else he wanted to say, but it was like he was having trouble finding the words. He spoke a moment later, and Eddie listened in rapt concentration – the anxious energy emanating from Steve was doing nothing to calm his own overactive nervous system.

“I left some…meds, on the dresser for you. Did you…?”

Steve faltered, the question dying in his throat. If Eddie had previously been 99% sure Steve was an enthusiast of the same sexual persuasion, he was now 99.9%. He had to fight, actually dig his nails into his palm and bite on the inside of his cheek, to stop from grinning what he was sure would be an entirely predatory and immensely unnerving smile of smug satisfaction.

“Yeah, thanks man. Took some not too long ago.” He managed, voice stable and welcoming. He was so giddy he wanted to cackle.

“That’s – that’s good.” Steve managed. Eddie bit down harder. “Didn’t want you to suffer.”

Eddie did smile then. He absolutely wanted me to suffer, even if he wouldn’t admit it to himself. Eddie had to imagine that yes, whilst Steve was a great guy, despite previous assholery, the antihistamines were likely more than a kind gesture. Eddie imagined how he would feel in Steve’s shoes. If Steve was in his trailer, sneezing up a goddamn storm whilst he had company present, the majority of which was comprised of children? Yeah, he’d probably want to put a damper on that too. It was strategic. He could fuck with that.

“Yeah, they’re a real lifesaver. I mean, recently, they hardly make a difference, but still.”

His heart was pounding in his chest. This was a lot harder than he imagined it would be, if only because in trying to provoke a reaction out of Steve, he was turning himself on to no end. But he had to keep pushing. He was a man possessed.

“These days I basically just sneeze myself awake. And I just have to wait it out. Sometimes it takes like, what, fifteen minutes? It’s like my nose saved all my sneezes overnight and the second I’m conscious they just fucking overwhelm me, man.”

Steve was reacting so obviously that Eddie wondered if he wanted to be exposed. Knowing that that wasn’t the case, and that Steve simply couldn’t help practically swooning whilst he discussed his allergic struggles with him was giving him butterflies. He was torturing them both, but it was such sweet torture. Steve’s eyes were darting around, focusing anywhere other than Eddie’s face – the older man waited patiently for his response, but Robin beat him to it.

“God, that sounds like such a drag. I’m so glad I don’t have allergies. God – not to like, brag and rub it in or anything, sorry - !”

Buckley was a sweetheart. As much as Eddie wished she hadn’t interrupted and given Steve an out – said jock was now plating up a mountain of food for him, back turned – he could work with this.

“All good, Birdie. Better me than you. I’ve got fucking years of experience under my belt.”

“Still, that fucking sucks that you, like – sneeze yourself awake? I’ve never sneezed that much in my life. Except for one time Rosie Carver was wearing that insanely strong perfume – I’m talking bonkers amount of artificial lavender – to band practice, and it was awful.”

Eddie hoped he didn’t look as awkward as he felt, having opened the Pandora’s box that was Robin’s unmatched ability to ramble on and on. The upside to this turn of events, however, was that Steve looked almost pained with embarrassment as he placed Eddie’s plate in front of him.

“Thanks, Harrington.” He smiled and winked up at Steve, who flashed him a goofy little smile that looked more like a grimace as he continued to visibly cringe.

Steve pulled up the chair next to him and fidgeted awkwardly with the tablecloth as Eddie started to eat. He only seemed to relax a little when Max and Dustin pulled both him and Robin into their intense debate on what qualified as a man hug vs a hug from a man.

Everyone seemed appropriately distracted enough that Eddie, feeling absolutely giddy about what he was about to do, reached for the pepper shaker and started shaking it over his food as subtly as he could manage. Confident that nobody was watching, he shook a little pile of the tickly black seasoning into his hand and inhaled it quietly, rounding off the motion with a gentle rub to his nostrils that he hoped looked natural.

It burned almost instantly. He fought off a few little coughs and reached across the table for a napkin. Now Steve was watching him in that way that people do when they’re trying really hard to look like they aren’t. Eddie knew the feeling exactly, had been in this position more times than he could count. He would have smiled had the tickle not overwhelmed him in seconds, barely giving him any warning before he was sneezing desperately into the napkin.

"Hht'Tchiew! 'TSshieww!! hH'Ngxtt!! 'NGXT'TSChiew!! Oh my god, bless me.”

He couldn’t believe what he had just done. He’d been an impulsive, thrill-seeking bastard for most of his life, but this? It was insane. It was intoxicating. He blushed behind the covering of the tissue paper, working his snuffling, damp nostrils round in an attempt to assuage the itch, and thankfully it worked. He thanked Robin and the kids as they offered a round of blessings before reengaging with the extremely heated debate that had El giggling beside them. Noticing the absence of a blessing from his left – the only one he’d been seeking - Eddie’s eyes tentatively swivelled in Steve’s direction.

Steve was sat ramrod straight up in his seat, looking for all the world like he’d been stupefied. Eddie supposed he had, and was grateful for the napkin to hide his toothy grin of excitement behind, though he was sure his eyes, scrunched up in amusement, gave him away all the same. He sniffled, a wet, obtrusive sound, and this seemed to be the cue Steve’s brain needed to remind him to act like a human being again. He slumped back down into his seat, blushing fiercely and chewing at the lose skin beside his thumb nail. Eddie had to fight desperately for his own gentle blush to recede as Steve peered up at him from behind long, almost bovine eyelashes and uttered the softest, shyest little “Bless you” he had ever heard.

He lowered the napkin with shaking hands, muttering his own tiny “Thank you” in response and shovelling down the rest of his meal, tasting nothing and miles away in his mind. That had been…god, that had been so intimate. If they’d been alone, he would have kissed Steve immediately – he knew that for a fact. There was no fucking way he was misreading the desire that had saturated that interaction. He felt heavy and drugged whilst simultaneously wired enough to run a marathon. He had to breach this topic, he just didn’t know when, or how. So he would continue to be a tease until either he or Steve exploded out of sheer repressed lustiness.  

What a fucking wonderful mess he’d gotten himself into.

~~~~~

“You sure you’re good to drive?”

“Yeah, man, I’m great.”

Eddie smiled reassuringly at Steve as the younger man lingered in the open doorway. Max was already halfway to Eddie’s van, having said her goodbyes and determined to get back to her room for some peace and quiet. Steve would be delivering the other kids to their respective parents, then he and Robin would do whatever it was they did, joined at the hip as usual. Eddie was only a tiny bit jealous, but he honestly wouldn’t mind some peace and quiet himself - if only so that he could rub his own dick raw thinking about the past 24 hours.

“…Okay.”

Steve sounded entirely unconvinced, and terrible at hiding it.

“I’m not going to crash, Steve.” He smiled wickedly. “I’m an expert at driving whilst sneezing my ever-loving brains out. I could win awards for it.”

Steve shifted his weight from one leg to another, eyes darting to anywhere but Eddie’s face as he offered a stilted little laugh. Eddie hoped he was fidgeting to offset the pressure of his jean’s seams on an inopportune erection. He hoped his words teased just right.

“Sure, man, whatever you say.”

Steve managed to smile at him then. It was Eddie’s cue to leave before he got sucked back into those pretty eyes all over again and lost the ability to form complete sentences.

“Well. See you soon, big boy.”

He turned around, raising a hand in goodbye. He smiled as a chorus of ‘Bye, Eddie!’ rang out from inside the house, shouting back a louder ‘farewell’ in response. Steve watched him from the doorway, and Eddie realised he was planning to wait to go inside until after he’d left. He turned around one last time, halfway into the driver’s seat and yelled:

“If my van ends up wrapped round some tree somewhere, you get my guitar, man!”

“Shut up and go home!” Steve shouted back, looking embarrassed and pleased all at once.

Eddie grinned and stuck out his tongue, ignoring Max’s groan of disgust as he settled into the driver’s seat.

~~~~~

Eddie pulled up to his trailer – or swerved up to it, depending on who you asked. Max was one of the most tolerable passengers he had ever had the pleasure of escorting, saying nothing of his questionable steering. He drove like he did almost everything else – impatiently, erratically and far too fucking fast.

Having known Max a mere matter of months, he’d quickly begun to think of her as a little sister of sorts. She hated the trailer park, and he didn’t much blame her. He felt it was his responsibility to help her out as much as he could - even if that just meant letting her into his trailer when her mom was passed out drunk, sitting next to her on the sofa watching some shitty horror movie and cracking stupid jokes in the face of her silence. She didn’t have to say anything, she just had to know that he was there if she needed him. When she’d asked him a couple of weeks ago if he would teach her some guitar basics, he had jumped at the chance. She didn’t have one of her own yet, so he sat with his acoustic whilst she balanced his flashy Warlock on her lap and awkwardly worked her way through each chord.

The metal they had been blasting came to an abrupt stop when he killed the engine. He jumped out and circled the van to open her door for her, reaching out to take her by the hand.

“Home at last, m’lady.”

She ignored his waiting hand, casting him a trademark withering stare with those huge blue eyes and hopped down from the van. He chuckled and closed the door behind her.

“You’re extra gross today.” She offered, looking at him with what Eddie gathered was a healthy dose of suspicion.

He clasped a hand to his heart, playing up the dramatics and gasping in faux distress.

“You wound me, Mayfield!”

She rolled her eyes at him, unsuccessfully holding back a smile. He laughed gregariously, knowing the raucous nature of it would embarrass her. She shoved him softly in response, then grabbed his arm when he started to genuinely keel over. Which only made him laugh harder.

“You’re insane.”

“But you like me anyway.”

“Whatever.” She turned and started to walk over to her trailer. “Thanks for the ride.”

“You’re welcome.”

He was halfway up the front steps of his trailer when he noticed her lingering.

“You good, Red?”

“Yeah. Just wondering if later you could maybe show me some more chords? I want to practice.”

He beamed at her, twirling his door keys round an extended index finger.

“Sure, I can do that. What time?”

“Depends on you.” She said. “Depends on if you’re going to be on the phone with Steve all night. Again.”

His brief moment of hesitation – and the resultant pause that had his keys spinning to the ground at maximum velocity – made her blue eyes twinkle. Damn smart kid. He scrambled for the keys, bouncing back and hoping she would brush off his temporary malfunction even as he knew without a doubt she had him all figured out. She didn’t look mean, though – she just looked smug.

“I believe,” he started as he turned the keys in the lock, “Harrington is otherwise occupied this fine evening. Unlike me. I’ll see you at 7, maybe?”

“Sure. 7 works.”

And with that, she was turning heel and pacing away. Eddie tried not to have a minor heart attack as he closed the trailer door behind him.

So what if Max had seen right through him, he thought as he dropped his backpack unceremoniously in the living room. She wasn’t going to say anything – she wasn’t a blabbermouth like any of the boys. She might – she might say something to El, though. He cringed at the thought of it. Shit. Maybe he would have to lay low on the overt flirting unless he was completely alone with Steve. He’d really fucking pushed it today, and now Max knew about his stupid, dumb feelings for Steve. Who else knew? Did Steve know? He wanted him to know. But not because the kids or whoever else sniffed it out first.

He collapsed face down on his bed and exhaled into his pillowcase. Whether it was Pavlovian conditioning or otherwise, his erection was back in an instant. He pushed aside the lingering anxiety, the overthinking, and rolled onto his back, shimmying his jeans down his hips.

The first squeeze around his cock felt incredible, and he bucked up into his own teasing grasp. This wouldn’t take long. His entire body felt like a live wire. He lost himself in the hedonistic joy of fucking into his own fist, reaching up with one hand to play with his nipples. He groaned, imagining Steve was right there with him – he was the one touching him with his big, strong hands, he was the one teasing him. His nose tingled, a sure sign that the antihistamines were already starting to wear off. Just that thought, just the thought of sneezing, of Steve watching him, Steve sneezing too –

Eddie bit his lip hard, trying and failing not to whimper as he orgasmed to thoughts of Steve for the second time that morning, knowing he was just getting started.

~~~~~

Max was only half-right about his phone calls to Steve. They were never longer than a few hours – and that had only happened a couple of times. Thirty minutes seemed to be their average. He spent way longer on the phone with Gareth, at any rate, and he wasn’t trying to get into his pants, fuck no. Guy friends could talk on the phone daily without it necessarily meaning anything. The fact that he was irrepressibly attracted to Steve and knew that Steve wanted him back – at least, as far as his allergies were concerned – was neither here nor there.

Wayne said nothing as Eddie stretched the phone cord into his bedroom and closed his door just so. There were many things to love about Wayne, but his leaving Eddie to his own business was something he was forever grateful for – even if he was much warier about doing so these days, understandably so.

They were 20 minutes into an amicable conversation and Eddie had already sneezed four times, relishing in the blessings Steve had offered. Steve was a lot more confident over the phone – probably due to the fact that his ability to disguise his body language fucking sucked, and this way he had the advantage of being unseen. It was sweet that he was possibly thinking just because Eddie couldn’t see him, he wasn’t able to picture in perfect clarity the way Steve would be blushing and squirming all the same.

“So yeah, Robin wanted to drive a little out of town – there’s this huge homeware depot out in the middle of fucking nowhere with all kinds of crap. It’s fun. You should come with us.”

Eddie wanted to, knew he wouldn’t turn the invitation down. But damn, what was the fucking deal with those two? It was so confusing. He was almost 95% sure they weren’t together, but they were like Velcro. Eddie treasured these phone calls because it was one of the few times he could talk to Steve one on one – and even then, Robin would sometimes be lounging around at his house, omnipresent in the background of their conversations.

He was jealous, plain and simple. He wanted to lounge around in Steve’s huge house and spend every waking moment with him, following him round like a little puppy dog. It sucked to be jealous of Robin – she was great, a total joy, and it wasn’t like she was the sole instigator of her and Steve’s mutual clinginess. Sometimes it felt to Eddie like they almost operated as emotional service animals to one another.

He scrunched his eyes shut, hard. Idiot. They’re just the best of friends.

“Sure, I’m down. I was in the market for some new doilies anyway.”

Steve laughed, and Eddie resisted the urge to kick his feet and twirl his hair round his finger.

“They have way more than that, dude. I’m talking bathmats, spice racks, tiny little porcelain dogs – and that’s just a preview.”

“Ooh, porcelain dogs. Midwestern Grandma chic.”

“Yeah, thought you might like the little knick-knacks.”

Eddie could hear Steve’s fond smile over the phone, and this time couldn’t help it as his hand made its way up to his curls and – yep, there he went. Spinning the locks round his finger like a fucking cheerleader or some shit.

They made solid plans and said their goodbyes. Eddie hung the phone back in its cradle and cast a weary glance at Wayne. Still awake. He would have to be quiet when he blew his post-phone-call load.

~~~~~

Steve had picked Eddie up that morning with Robin already riding shotgun. She offered to get in the back the moment she saw Eddie, which was concerning. His disappointment at the seating arrangement (which he knew had had no right in feeling, considering he was technically the third wheel on this little outing that was literally Robin’s idea in the first place) must have been plain on his face. He perhaps overdid it when he flung himself in the back before she had a chance to do so herself, the cheesy double thumbs up he flashed them as they peered at him in all his pell-mell glory looking awkward and stilted even to him. It was mercifully brushed over, and he cringed at himself for only a couple of seconds before Steve was engaging him in some stupid conversation about what porcelain animals they should buy.

The store – or rather, the industrial-sized warehouse operating as a store – was an impressive sight to behold out in the middle of nowhere. Almost everything was out in the middle of nowhere in rural Indiana, but the sheer size of the outlet was unique. Robin was practically vibrating with excitement as she got out of Steve’s car.

Eddie was in good spirits himself. He’d been sneezing a lot that morning, but not enough to make him truly miserable. His medication seemed to have calmed the reaction a little, but not entirely. Not enough to prevent his nostrils from tingling and flaring at that first hit of pollen-laden forest air. He sniffled, inviting the sensation to crest into a small, flurried little fit of sneezes he caught in his bandana.

"Hh'Ngxtt! NGXtt! ngxt'tshu! Hh! TShh-Dd'TZshh-TZzsch'iew!! Ahh…"

Those had felt so nice to indulge in, like a salve to soothe the itch. He scrubbed at his nostrils through the fabric, glancing up in time to see Steve glancing away, caught in the act of staring – just as Eddie had hoped. Robin, having run ahead several paces, didn’t seem to notice, and called out to them to hurry up. Steve practically sprinted after her, and Eddie swallowed the brief disappointment at the absence of a blessing, or any acknowledgement from the object of his desire. Saved by the fucking bell, he figured. It was no problem. He didn’t plan on giving up Operation: Drive Steve Crazy just yet. He had gumption and hard-assery on his side. He snuffled one last time into the bandana before pocketing it and catching up with them at revolving door entrance.

~~~~~

If the warehouse looked big from the outside, it was even bigger inside – and packed, relatively speaking. Mostly by middle-aged women, with some reluctant husbands scattered about here or there. There were some younger people too – a few oddball looking teens laughing at some of the tackier slogans adorning magnets and placards, and a couple of pretty college girls fussing over fuzzy cushions.

“Wow, Birdie. Where the fuck do you even start?” Eddie whistled, tipping his head back to peer up at the looming ceiling.

“Huh. I actually have no clue. This place is a monster, right?” She grinned at the pair of them.

“Seriously, Robs, no game plan?” Steve said, stood behind the shopping cart Robin had assigned to him. He had lost rock paper scissors and was only a little bitter about it.

“You make this sound like an army operation.” She rolled her eyes at them, and rolled them again when they both uttered, in perfect synchronisation, “Isn’t it?”

“I’m gonna do a quick – well, relatively quick – scan of the premises, then you can follow me with the cart. Sound good?”

“Yeah, yeah. Brave the terrain for us first.” Eddie smiled at her, eyes lighting up at the prospect of being left alone with Steve.

“See you in three hours!” Steve called sarcastically after her, and she stuck out her tongue and flipped the bird in response.

“Crazy geek.” Steve muttered, smiling. He shrugged his shoulders at Eddie. “Well – shall we secure the immediate area?”

“Sir, yes sir.” Eddie clicked his heels together and saluted, feeling like a total dork and delighting in the way it made Steve grin.

Another round of laughter pulled their attention over to the teens, who were at last walking away from the shelves of feel-good signage. Eddie tipped his head towards the display.

“Could start over there, see if there’s anything worth hanging over Wayne’s front door.”

Steve nodded, and the pair of them made their way over.

~~~~~

The signs were as predictably awful as either of them had expected; it was easy to understand why the teens had taken such amusement in them. Some were relatively innocuous, like ‘If you were home, you’d be here’ – others much more heinous, like ‘I must get up – my coffee needs me’ (Steve’s personal favourite) and simply ‘Fart Zone’ (Eddie’s personal favourite). Laughing with Steve over dumb shit was surely becoming one of Eddie’s favourite things to do, and if these goofy signs facilitated that, he was happy to read out loud every single one of them.

The novelty soon ran its course and prompted by a disapproving huff from a nearby older lady, the pair of them giggled like kids and retreated. Eddie dragged Steve away by the elbow, as encumbered with the empty cart as the younger man was.

“Oh man, Robin needs to see that shit. She’d be on the floor right now.” Steve laughed.

Eddie smiled, burying the mounting wave of jealousy like swallowing the most bitter of pills. They’re best friends, he reminded himself. Of course he wants her to see this shit too.

They wandered aimlessly for a little while, sticking to the very front of the store so that Robin would be able to find them. There wasn’t much more to engage with – Eddie and Steve prodded at the cushions they’d seen the girls take interest in, giving up quickly as they failed to provide any real source of amusement.

As they turned to the final unexplored aisle in the vicinity, Eddie’s nose wrinkled at a sudden, overwhelming wave of artificial scents. He stopped and peered down at the rows and rows of shelves, all stacked full of aromatic candles.

Oh fuck. His lips curled into a smile he hoped didn’t make him look like a conniving supervillain. This was the perfect opportunity to fuck with Steve, just the two of him. They hadn’t even proceeded down the aisle and his nostrils already tickled terribly. He reached up to rub them for a moment, squinting his eyes shut.

“…You okay?” Steve asked, stopping a couple of paces in front of him once he realised Eddie had paused. His eyes kept darting from Eddie’s eyes, to his flaring nostrils, right back up to his eyes again. So nervous, so obviously transparent.

“I’m good, yeah.” Eddie sniffled, walking forward. “Never seen so many fucking candles in my life. They stink.”

“Hmm.” Steve swallowed. Eddie watched his Adam’s apple bob. “You sure you want to brave it? With your…hay fever, and all?”

Oh, that had been so hard for him to say, but he’d wanted so very much to come across as a normal human being and not somebody who popped a boner every time Eddie’s nostrils did so much as twitch. Eddie almost felt bad for the sweet torture he was about to put him through.

“Luckily for me, Harrington – candles, unlike plants, don’t tend to release seasonal fuck-dust into the atmosphere.” He squeezed Steve’s arm briefly, encouraging him to keep walking beside him.

“That’s not – okay.”

Steve was flustered, almost to the point of blushing. 'Almost' wasn’t good enough. Eddie had to ramp things up.

His eyes scanned the shelves for the perfect candle to sniff, though any would probably do. It was crazy how much the entire area reeked of them, the hundreds of different scents accumulating into a maddening cloud of itchiness that almost set his eyes watering.

At last, he located a scent he knew would probably set him off in an instant – ‘Spring Meadow.’ He reached for it, heart lurching in his chest. The candle was heavy, sealed in a cylindrical glass jar. Luckily for him, it had no plastic wrapping he needed to rip through to lift the lid and get a proper noseful of the stuff. Even a foot away from his face with the lid still on, the scent was overwhelming.

“Does Birdie like candles?” He asked Steve, rotating his wrist to get a proper look at the object in question – or to feign interest in it, to make what he was about to do look a little less insane.

“Uh, sure? I think her parents have a few round the house, but I’ve never seen them lit. The ones in Robin’s room aren’t scented…”

He was watching the candle intently, like it was a bomb about to detonate. Eddie supposed that was fair enough – he’d be sweating too, at the prospect of Steve sneezing his head off, willingly, right there in front of him. The detonation Steve ought to be worrying about was him, really.

“Huh. Maybe we can test some out for her?” He peered at Steve from under his eyelashes. The younger man’s eyes did not leave the candle, knuckles almost white as they gripped the handlebars of the shopping cart. “There’re so many different scents here – might help to narrow it down for her, yeah?”

Steve said nothing. He seemed stupefied. Eddie almost felt bad, again – but he felt compelled to continue, like he was operating on a motor. He desperately wanted to sneeze, and he wanted Steve to watch every second of it. He didn’t bother waiting for any response Steve could eventually muster, twisting the glass lid free and lifting the candle to his face. It only took one tentative little sniff and he was undone, nostrils flaring to capacity. He sneezed too quickly to even draw a definitive gasp to fuel the reaction, seizing with the effort.

“HAhgK'TISHHH!! TIShhh-TSSCh-TSHH-TSH'Uu!!”

Each sneeze tore its way through him with no small amount of violence. The eponymous ‘Spring Meadow’ sure fucking smelled the part – it was like sticking his face into a patch of wildflowers and huffing them, hard. The ever-looming presence of his hay fever and the underlying sensitivity it caused seemed not to care that the fragrance was artificial – it tickled as much as any real flower ever could, maybe even more so out of sheer concentration of scent.

Hands occupied by both the candle and the lid, he merely sneezed right out in front of him – and towards Steve. He wanted him to take in every detail – and from experience, and the sensation of moisture on his own lips, that would include a healthy dose of spray with each expulsion. His eyes were screwed shut, it tickled so terribly – he couldn’t open them at all, the sneezes rapid enough he could only surrender to them as they hunched him forward, shoulders jumping and curls bouncing.

"Hahdt'DZZCHhh-DDT'shh-TZShhiew-TSschtt!!....hHAHH'IGXKSH'SHiiewww!!! Oh m’by god…"

He took the opportunity of the pause before that final sneeze to pop the lid back into place, shaking and almost dropping the candle as he suddenly felt unsteady on his feet. What a fucking rush that had been. His tongue flicked out to lick his damp lips. Shivering slightly in post-sneeze pleasure, he placed the candle back on the shelf before allowing himself to look over at Steve.

It was everything he had hoped for – Steve was a total, lust-stricken mess. The eyes he was flashing at Eddie were bedroom eyes, plain and simple. His cheeks were flushed, and his lips parted as he breathed softly but frantically, like he was winding down from a morning run. The cart was an immovable object in front of him, blocking his crotch from Eddie’s view, but from the awkwardly hunched stance he had adopted and overall wild-eyed appearance, a boner was practically guaranteed.

It was so intoxicating, looking at Steve like this, that Eddie forgot for a moment he wasn’t supposed to lose his composure alongside him. His own pants were impossibly tight, and it took all the restraint he could muster to not push Steve down on the hard, concrete floor and dry hump them both to nirvana.

“Ha…not such a great idea after all. ‘Scuse me.” He offered lamely, reaching for his bandana with a shaky hand. This had been a stupid idea – his brain was mush and he felt himself trembling in equal parts embarrassment and arousal, unable to maintain control of his own devious operation.

“Fuck, man…bless you.” Steve offered after a beat. He looked utterly mortified as his voice broke on the blessing, but it also seemed to galvanise him. He cleared his throat and stood a little taller.

“Bless you.” He offered again, and this time he didn’t so much as stutter. Eddie’s eyelashes fluttered, and despite his best efforts, he started to blush behind his bandana.

“Thank you.”

God, fuck, shit. This was so hot. He wanted Steve so badly. He wasn’t misreading things right now – couldn’t be. The way Steve was looking at him…he knew he never looked at Robin like that. This was significant, he was right on the money, and the longer he played this little game the more certain he became.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked softly as he blew his nose into the handkerchief. “Do you need me to do anything?”

Yes, Eddie thought. I need you to get on your knees and suck my cock ‘til I come gallons. I need you to sneeze all over every square inch of my body, and then I need to do the exact same to you.

“No,” Eddie said, storing the bandana back in his pocket. “I just think I should get away from these candles.” He sniffled again, wrinkling his nose and flaring his nostrils. Steve watched every motion. “Tickles.”

Steve shuddered rather perceptibly, despite his obvious efforts to mask it. He was probably trying to play it cool, now, ‘fake it til you make it’ style. Eddie was fine with that – he’d teased them both to their limits. When he inevitably came later tonight thinking about this exchange, it was going to feel amazing.

“Yeah, we should – we should go.” Steve nodded, turning the cart round (still conveniently blocking his crotch) and Eddie was happy to follow.

They were almost out of the aisle when Steve paused, quite abruptly.

“Harrington?” Eddie asked, watching Steve stare down a nearby candle.

“How bad can they be?” He thought he heard Steve mutter, and, to Eddie’s dismay and pleasure both, the younger man reached out and grabbed the candle in his large, tan hand.

Eddie’s mouth was dry; his stomach flipped and he felt like he might pass out a little. He gripped the side of the cart for support, cock throbbing in his pants, as Steve removed the lid and lifted the candle to his perfectly pointed nose. His nostrils flared gently as he inhaled, experimentally, before taking another sniff almost strong enough to be audible. Eddie waited.

“Yeah, that’s not- hh’OhHH!! HUH!!”

Eddie blinked owlishly, felt his body burning up as if in fever. Was he actually asleep? Was this another of his increasingly regular wet dreams about Steve? It fucking felt like it, for sure – stood mere feet away from the jock as he willingly teased a mounting sneeze out of himself, expression crumpling and twisting in unmatched desperation. It seemed to be happening in slow motion; Steve’s head was tipping back, mouth falling open, eyebrows raising up, up, up. The picture-perfect image of a man on the precipice of a most impressive sneeze – or several.

Steve tensed, held in that pre-sneeze purgatory for what was surely no longer than a second but felt like an eternity to Eddie, and then he was sneezing so violently, so loudly that Eddie was sure Robin must have heard it from the other side of the warehouse.

“HUHHHH'RISHHHHHUUUUU!!! HAGKT'TISHHHHHH'IEWWWW!!!"

Eddie watched, dumb with arousal, as Steve sneezed directly onto the candle he held in his grasp. Whether he was unable to move away, or whether he simply didn’t care, Eddie wasn’t sure. Either way, it was about the hottest thing he had ever seen. Steve’s sneezes were huge, and ridiculously wet – each burst forth with a visible cloud of thick spray, baptising the candle as well as Steve’s hand and wrist, before dispersing into the air around his immediate vicinity in a glitter of aerosol. Eddie knew he was awake and not dreaming when the soft kiss of that spray dusted over his knuckles as they gripped at the cart. His cock throbbed, drooling precum into his underwear.

Steve’s head reeled back one last time with a gasp so intense it almost sounded painful – his chest puffed out with the effort. He didn’t move the candle – just went through the cycle all over again with one final, gargantuan sneeze that was impossibly wetter than either of its predecessors.

"AHHHH'YISSSSSSHHH'IEWWWW!!!"

The resultant spray hung around for several seconds before dispersing, glittering under the artificial lighting. Eddie’s eyes flickered down from Steve’s slackening, post-sneeze expression to the candle in his grip. It had been thoroughly sneezed on – there was really no other way to put it. It made Eddie feel even weaker to notice the droplets of moisture starting to slide down the side of the glass, actually dripping in the aftermath. He had never been so jealous of an inanimate object in all his life.

“Fuck,” Steve choked out, trembling a little and sounding a fraction as ruined as Eddie felt. “Well, that was – that was something.”

You can fucking say that again, you stupid, sexy bastard.

“Yeah. Um. Fuck, man. Bless you.” Eddie breathed out, trying to will at least a little blood into the rest of his body from where it had stubbornly pooled between his legs. “Are you okay?”

Steve looked down at the candle, then up at Eddie. Whatever he saw in Eddie’s eyes, he froze – they just looked at each other, silent for what felt like forever, before Eddie couldn’t take it anymore and glanced away. Fuck. He was just as transparent as Steve. When he looked back, whatever fire had been burning behind his eyes had vanished – almost as if nothing had transpired at all.

“I’m okay. Jesus. I think we should definitely give the candles a miss – spare Robin the disappointment.”

He was smiling softly, and it was enough to help Eddie ease up, just a little. He smiled back, said nothing as Steve replaced the lid and placed the worse-for-wear looking candle back on the shelf, spray and all.

“Yep. No complaints here. Let’s get back to the soap dishes?”

“Perfect.”

They walked awkwardly for a while. Eddie tried his best not to think about Steve’s own rock-hard cock as he willed his own back down. He was blessedly soft just in time for Robin to return fifteen minutes later.

~~~~~

Ever since his stunt with the candles, Eddie had been restless. Every time he spent time with Steve, or spoke to him on the phone, he felt the irrepressible urge to spill the fucking beans. To let him know that he knows, knows that Steve likes his sneezes, and he likes Steve and his sneezes, so maybe Steve might also like him and they should do something about it? But every time he built up the courage, felt like it was all gonna gush out of him in an endless stream of confession, it was like the words got caught in his throat and died there. No matter how much he willed it, he just didn’t seem to be bold enough. Which was hilarious, given the way he was actively teasing Steve with his tickly nose every chance he got.

They had agreed to have a movie night together, the evening before whilst on the phone. Eddie had been tickling his nose lazily with a clothing tag throughout, making sure to irritate himself just enough that the sneezing was near constant. Steve sounded breathless, and Eddie knew he had to be just as hard as him. They settled the plans quickly, then Eddie hung up and made himself cum three times before falling asleep, physically satiated but mentally tortured.

The day was a blur – another Saturday spent aimlessly playing guitar, smoking up and playing with his dick. He chain-smoked cigarettes inside his bedroom, which he regretted almost the second he started, both for the damage to his throat and the stink. He greedily drank half a carton of juice from the fridge to soothe his raspy throat, which he also regretted, feeling guilty about the prospect of eating and drinking Wayne out of house and home. Lots of overthinking and regrets as the day dragged on and on, hurtling him towards an evening alone with Steve.

There had been no marked change to his allergies – as active as ever, but manageable if he took his meds and stayed inside. So, naturally, he chose to forgo medication that day. He wanted to drive Steve crazy, even as the thought of doing so was driving him to the brink of insanity. The fantastical image of Steve, sporting an undisguisable erection as Eddie snuggled into the crook of his neck and purged the persistent tickle out all over his tan skin, and the thought of him blessing him and pinning him to the couch in return…Eddie jerked off again, feeling possessed, deranged. He shuddered as he came, then lit another cigarette and smoked nervously in bed. He was only pulled yelping out of his thoughts when cigarette ashes fell on his naked chest.

~~~~~

“Hey, man.”

Steve smiled welcomingly at him as he opened the door for Eddie. Eddie smiled back, bashfully, wondering if he would ever get over the feeling of nervous anticipation after he rang the doorbell and waited for that pretty face to greet him.

“I come bearing gifts.” Eddie lifted the bag in his hand, packed with chips and cookies and other tooth-rotting junk.

“Nice, nice.” Steve nodded approvingly. “You still want pizza?”

“Is the pope a catholic?” Eddie said, untying the laces of his sneakers and trying not to fall on his ass as a result of his impatient speediness.

“Cool – I’ll give ‘em a call in a sec, wanted to make sure before I did.”

For a moment, Eddie thought they were going to hug. He was about to initiate it when Steve reached out to take the bag of snacks from him with one hand, then held out the other for Eddie to bump. He did, a crooked smile cast Steve’s way that he hoped disguised his disappointment.

They made their way to the living room, where Steve let Eddie settle in and removed the snacks from the bag. He seemed full of nervous energy – they both did. The tension between them was so palpable that Eddie could almost taste it on his tongue – electric, like ozone.

“I’m glad you’re here, man.” Steve offered, one hand on the back of his neck. It was so adorable Eddie had to fight the blush rising to his cheeks. This kind of energy was contagious.

“Same here, dude. Excited to watch you piss your pants in fear.” Eddie smirked at him, tilting his head towards the pile of horror movie Steve had ‘borrowed’ from Family Video, claiming employee perks even when they both knew there was no such thing.

“Pervert. Maybe you’ll piss your pants.”

“Maybe I will, just for the fun of it.” Eddie stuck out his tongue, feeling as high as he always did when they joked around like this.

“Exactly – pervert.” Steve said - perhaps a little more fondly than he had intended, if the way he coughed into his fist a beat later was any indication. “Gonna order us pizza now, be back in a sec.”

Eddie waved him off, trying to relax into the sofa cushions and calm down the rapid beating of his heart. Steve’s sudden absence seemed to remind his nose to start tickling anew – he’d managed to steel himself for the walk up to Steve’s house, parked outside and recovering from the sneezing fit that had overwhelmed him on the short drive over. It had been desperate and uncovered, and he’d blushed to see the sheer amount of glittering spray left twinkling on his dashboard when the sneezes finally tapered off.

Remembering this event was the final straw – his nostrils twitched lustily, wanting that same relief all over again. He scrambled for his bandana, not wanting to spray openly, at least while Steve was out of the room. Leaning forward on the couch, he allowed his expression to loosen, panting expectantly as the sneezes built. With one outstretched finger he bullied the tip of his nose from side to side, gasping suddenly as the motion finally allowed the tickle to peak.

“Hh'EhhHT'TChiew!! 'Tisshh! HaHDT'Tshh!! ISSH'uu! Hh'NGxtshieww!! Eh'NGXtt!-NGXT'TCHIEW!! Fuck, shit. HEH'ISHH!! ISSH'IEWW! EH'Tschh-TScch-Tshtt!!”

He caught each one in the bandana, rocking forward into his own hand, gripping the couch cushion with the other. The tail end of the fit had been so vicious his leg kicked up off the ground a few times. He hoped Steve had heard him, but he hadn’t been able to make out any change to that pleasing voice as he ordered their food over the phone.

Eddie scrubbed at his tickly nostrils a couple of times, allowing himself in Steve’s absence to physically scratch them internally with his fingers through the fabric. It felt amazing, to literally scratch the itch, causing even more tears to spring forth and cling to his damp eyelashes. When he was done, he lazily half-shoved the fabric into his pocket and resettled himself. By the time Steve sauntered back into the room, he was comfortably nestled into the couch, the only evidence of his struggle a nose slightly pinker than two minutes prior.

“All good?” He asked, noting that his voice sounded a little stuffier than before. Good.

“Yep, ETA thirty minutes on the pizza.”

Rather than settling down on the couch, Steve walked towards the pile of videos on the floor. Eddie got up and started sifting through them with him. A short debate ensued, where the pair bickered over the kind of movie they should start their marathon with – in Eddie’s mind, shockingly reminiscent of the way the kids had argued the night he had clocked onto Steve’s secret interest. Steve didn’t want to be too scared, and Eddie could understand – but he didn’t want to be bored, above all else, and some of these B movies were...not great. They eventually settled for ‘Fright Night’ – which Eddie had seen before but didn’t mind rewatching. He was more interested in edging his way ever closer to Steve.

They settled down next to each other on the couch as the movie started - not an excessively macho distance apart, but not close enough for Eddie’s liking. It wasn’t long before their nervous shifting brought them closer together, like a dance neither of them knew they were doing. Even when Eddie stifled three little sneezes against an outstretched finger, barely audible, Steve didn’t tense up and flee the way Eddie had expected. He offered a soft little ‘bless you’ that went straight to Eddie’s dick and pressed his knee against his.

Eddie could hardly breathe. He watched the movie but took in nothing. The weight and heat of Steve’s leg against his own was the centre of his world.

Both of them jumped when the doorbell went – Eddie suspected for different reasons. The horror was starting to amp up, and Steve was practically chewing his own fingers off. He jumped almost a foot in the air, laughed, then assured Eddie he would get the door. They ate the pizza in companionable silence when he returned, laughing through mouthfuls of cheese as the movie became laughably camp.

~~~~~

Eddie managed to eat about half the pizza he could usually wolf down. The anxiety, the excitement of being so close to Steve was driving him crazy – and he hadn’t even enacted the latest tease he had devised as part of Operation: Drive Steve Crazy. The little daisy he had plucked outside his trailer seemed to burn through his other pocket, wrapped in another of his bandanas.

The plan had been to switch it up with his regular bandana, then keep the daisy concealed as he lifted the fabric to his nose. Steve would be clueless to his mischief as the little flower teased him into sneeze after sneeze.

For this to work seamlessly, he needed to sneeze again. That way, when he reached for the bandana, Steve wouldn’t so easily put two and two together that the fabric enclosed around the flower was an active source of irritation for him, ultimately operating as the cause of many more sneezes to come.

Eddie glanced subtly over at Steve – he seemed suitably engrossed in the movie. Eddie was glad he was enjoying it, perhaps a little regretful that he would soon be distracting Steve enough that he would be entirely unable to focus on it any longer. It was a fun movie. He raised a hand to his nose and started to wriggle the tip back and forth, scratching a fingernail round the rim of one sensitive, flaring nostril, and then the other. It was a maddening sensation, and it was just enough to work.

"EhHT'TSChiew! TSsiew!! Hah'TCHiew! ESHH'uu!! Ahh. ‘Scuse me.”

He sniffled, pressing a finger gently to his philtrum to avoid further outbursts for the moment. To his absolute pleasure, Steve blessed him softly, reaching out to squeeze his knee for just a moment. He didn’t turn to face Eddie – whether he was really that into the movie or was simply too embarrassed to look at him the metalhead couldn’t be sure. He muttered a small thanks, and with a shaking hand, reached into his pocket for the handkerchief – and the daisy concealed within.

This was crazy. He knew it was crazy – it made him feel almost physically ill with a heady mixture of anxiety and desire – but he was doing it all the same. Steve wasn’t looking at him as he gently unfolded the bandana, peeking inside to locate the little flower. He found it, his heart beating as he saw the smears of yellow pollen it had left against the black material from being smushed inside. He pinched the daisy stem between the fabric, holding it securely just out of sight, and lifted the bandana up to his nose.

It took barely the slightest sniff for the gentle flare of his nostrils to expand to capacity; the pollen tickled him mercilessly. He sniffed again, even softer, but that was all he needed before a dramatic gasp tore its way out of him, making Steve jump slightly in his peripheral vision. He had no time to apologise before his watery eyes slammed shut, mouth yawning open, and then he was convulsing repeatedly into the cloth clutched between shaking hands.

"Heh'ENGXT'TSSieww!! 'TSShHhieww!! Ah'ISHH'uuu! Haht'TChiew!! EHdtt'TChieww!! Ehh'NGxt'TSsschh!!"

“Fuck, Eddie – are you okay??” Steve asked, but Eddie couldn’t respond. His head ducked down over and over again, the sneezes growing in intensity as he lost all ability to hold them back.

"DDzZZT'TSsHIEwww!! haHH'AGKk'KShieww!! hh-HH! EHHDT'TSCchieww!! HIGK'TSSHhh!! 'TZZSHiewww!!"

Maybe this hadn’t been such a great idea. The daisy and all of its residual pollen was pressed up against his face, teasing his nostrils even as they fought valiantly to purge themselves of the tickle. And god, did it tickle. His eyes were streaming down his cheeks, fat tears of irritation rolling down as he continued to sneeze. Steve started rubbing a broad palm up and down his back, gripping his knee with another hand. Eddie’s cock was incredibly happy with the current turn of events, and he was grateful not for the first time for his preference of dark clothing.

"HuHHPT'TSSHhhh!! TISHH'Iewww!! Hh'IGSHHHH!! ESHH'IEWW!! hahH'AEGK'TSHieww!!...Hh-H-HH-!! EHDT'TISHH'IEWWW!!

That last sneeze ended on such a high-pitched and desperate vocalisation he would have mistaken himself for a girl. And fucking hell, that was embarrassing and arousing all at once. Steve exhaled, a broken sound that made Eddie want to go off in his pants. He absolutely could not let that happen, though – he had to put an end to this, at least cut off the source of immediate irritation. He lowered the bandana into his lap, exposing his dripping face to Steve as his face contorted in a tortured mask of anticipation.

A couple of really big, uncovered sneezes would probably put an end to this – at least he hoped. He couldn’t switch out bandanas right now without risking exposure – both of the daisy and of his erection, which Steve was bound to notice if he looked down at Eddie scrambling in his pockets. He let the ticklish, allergic sensation build, gasping dramatically and wishing he had some way of watching Steve watch him.

He gasped once, twice, then allowed his entire body to be thrown forward with the force of the resulting sneezes he caught loosely with one upraised palm – or that he, more accurately, merely aimed the sneezes towards.

"HAHHH!! HAHh'ESHHH'IEWWww!! Hh-HHH!! IIEESHHHH'IEWWW!!! Ohh my god…hh, fuckk…Bless me.”

“Fuck, Eddie. Bless you. Holy shit.”

He snuffled into his hand, feeling floaty and over-sensitised. Bleary eyed, he looked over at Steve, taking in that familiar expression; bedroom eyes, slightly parted lips as his breathing deepened, the flushing of his gorgeous tan cheeks. He looked a little longer, blinking away tears, and then he looked pointedly down. Steve pressed his legs together and shifted his hips in a pitiful attempt to shield his erection, but Eddie had seen it. He swallowed against a sudden deluge of saliva at the sight.

His eyes slowly made their way back to Steve’s face. As they did so, Steve pulled his hands away from Eddie’s back and knee. The sudden absence made Eddie shiver and long for that touch again, a burning need that made him feel almost feverish with desire. The movie continued in the background, and Steve turned unfocused eyes back to the screen, his posture rigid and awkward.

Eddie wiped his palm clean on the bandana, staring at Steve. He knew Steve knew he was watching him, but stubbornly refused to acknowledge it. Eddie felt like screaming. He wanted Steve to throw himself at him, kiss him until they were both breathless. Why wasn’t he doing that? What more prompting could he possibly want??

Fuck it, Eddie thought. If Steve needs direct, direct is what he’ll get.

“Enjoying the show?” Eddie asked, pressing his knee against Steve’s, forcing himself back into his space. Steve visibly flinched. He still didn’t look at him.

“Uh, yeah. It’s a good movie.” He mumbled, sounding reedy and desperate in a way Eddie had never heard before.

“We both know I’m not talking about the movie, big boy.”

Eddie brought the bandana back up to his face, just for a second, just enough that the daisy pushed him over the edge for an encore.

“EhhTT'CHIeww!! TIShh'ieww! hh'NGXTsshh!! DTSCH'Uuu!! Fucking hell….”

Steve shivered and scrunched his eyes shut. His jaw was clenched, the muscles in his neck tight and tense. To Eddie’s sadistic delight, his face was blooming an impressive shade of red.

“Bless you,” He breathed. He remained facing the TV like a lifeline, like looking at Eddie might actually kill him. “I…don’t know what you mean.”

Eddie frowned. He was getting irritated and short-tempered. All of the games he had been playing, the weeks of endless sexual frustration – the end was so near he could almost taste victory. But Steve was stubborn, stalwart - clinging to denial even as Eddie caught him red-handed.

“Harrington. Look at me.” No movement. “Steve. Please.”

It made no difference. In a display of uncharacteristic strength, Eddie yanked Steve by the bicep, ignoring his yelp of shock as he turned towards him, finally looking him in the face.

“Come on,” Eddie purred, lowering his voice the way he would when he was playing a seductive character in a D&D campaign, praying it was efficacious enough that Steve would listen. The younger man sat rapt, frozen like a deer in headlights. Eddie swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he took a moment let his courage crest, and then –

Steve’s eyes were round, wider than Eddie had ever seen them, completely zoned in on the daisy he raised up between them. He twirled it between his fingers, displaying the tiny little flower that pulled so many desperate sneezes from him. It still wasn’t enough. He still had to say it.

“You like it when I sneeze, Steve.”

~~~~~

The silence stretched between them for long enough that Eddie thought for a moment Steve hadn't heard him. He was about to repeat himself when Steve tore his eyes aware from the daisy and up to Eddie’s face.

It was like being sucker punched in the gut. Whatever Eddie had been expecting – arousal, acceptance, embarrassment, admission – it hadn’t been this. Steve looked at him with sheer anger and contempt. He was looking at him like he was a bug he wanted to squish underfoot. Eddie gawked like an idiot, finding himself as wordless as Steve had been moments earlier.

His eyes silently followed Steve as the younger man stood up, towering over him. Eddie could barely breathe.

“Get out.” Steve spat, glaring down at him. Eddie could only sit and stare back up at him like an idiot.

“Get. Out.” Steve repeated, his voice a little louder and dripping with emotion. Eddie’s mouth opened and closed, like a kind of stupid, catatonic goldfish. Any and all confidence he’d been exuding mere moments ago had vanished, leaving him cowering with his metaphorical tail between his legs.

“Steve. What??” He managed, sounding raspy and miles away. The way Steve was looking at him made his chest feel like it had caved in. His skin was prickly and he felt uncomfortable all over.

Steve’s fists were clenched tight, and they clenched even tighter when Eddie spoke. Eddie swallowed, his mind conjuring up the awful image of Steve beating him to a pulp.

No. This wasn’t what he’d planned. This wasn’t right. This couldn’t be more wrong. He needed to do something, to fix it before his entire world imploded. His mouth opened, but he was voiceless, again. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Steve’s; they had him pinned like a butterfly to board.

“…Is that why you’ve been getting closer to me?” Steve said suddenly. The sounds from the TV swelled in the background, a cheesy pop number playing as the protagonists found themselves in a nightclub. It barely registered to either of them.

“To humiliate me? To play some fucking elaborate joke on me?” Steve went on, voice shaking, staring and staring. Eddie shook his head frantically, panic swelling in his chest.

“No. No. Steve, listen to me –“

“You should get the fuck out of here before I kick your ass."

Hurt. Hurt exploded in his chest and spread through his extremities in an overwhelming wave that made Eddie feel like he was dying. Sickly goosebumps broke out on his arms. No. This wasn’t happening.

“Steve. Please. Just give me a minute. I can explain, I can explain everything.”

At last, Steve’s eyes swivelled away, and with their gaze their paralysing effect. Eddie jumped to his feet, hands raised cautiously in front of himself as he eyed Steve’s balled fists. Steve’s brow was furrowed, his teeth clenched tight. Eddie realised in another sickening rush that he was trying to hold back tears. His own eyes prickled in response.

“I don’t want to hear it, man. Just go away.”

Steve’s voice was thick with emotion. It was agonising to hear. Eddie was no stranger to self-hatred, but everything before seemed to pale in the face of his latest fuck-up. His own voice trembled as he opened his mouth.

“Steve. Please. I need you to listen to me. Please look at me. You’re my friend, man. I don’t want to humiliate you. What the fuck. I’m freaking out, Steve, please look at me.”

He rambled, sounding like a fucking maniac - like the way he'd spoken moments after he’d had Steve pinned to the wall of the boathouse, relaying what horrors he’d seen that night in his trailer. Completely and utterly lost, like the world was caving in around him. Steve must have recognised that desperation because he did turn to look at Eddie, eyes shiny and wet but marginally less hostile. Now he just looked pained.

“Then what is this, Eddie? What the fuck are you doing to me?”

Eddie floundered for a moment, licking his lips nervously, fingers twitching. It was okay. Steve wasn’t going to punch him out. He probably hated him, but he didn’t want to kill him. Progress.

“I’ve been. I’ve been flirting with you. Fuck.” When Steve merely looked at him, he carried on. “I figured out you like it when I sneeze, so I just. Kept doing it around you. As often as I could.”

From a purely clinical standpoint, Eddie could admit it was fascinating watching Steve’s face shift through so many expressions and colours in a matter of seconds, taking in what Eddie was saying. He looked almost blue when he muttered a strained little ‘When,�� under his breath.

“Steve, dude, you need to sit down.” Eddie reached out nervously, his hand hovering next to Steve as the younger man looked about five seconds away from passing out. Steve shook his head.

“When,” He repeated, words almost slurring together, “Did you figure it out?”

“…The night I came round for the movies with all the kids and had a real bad allergy attack.”

Steve groaned, sitting down at last and cradling his face in his palms. Shaking, Eddie lowered himself down beside him, crouching on the very edge of the cushion. He touched a gentle hand to Steve’s shoulder.

“Please don’t.” Steve moaned, and Eddie pulled his hand back like he’d touched a hot stove.

“Steve…It’s okay.” Eddie started, leg bouncing up and down and shaking the couch with it, but finding himself unable to stop. He felt sick with anxiety. He watched as Steve shook his head, face still buried in his hands.

“You don’t understand.” Steve rasped. “This is mortifying for me. It’s not normal. I’m not normal.”

Eddie shook his head, clenching his eyes shut, even though Steve couldn’t see.

“No, man. It’s really okay. I know how you feel – “ Steve scoffed, shoulders jumping, but Eddie ignored him. “I do. I understand you.”

Steve swallowed, hissing a breath between his teeth as he shook his head again, even harder. He was pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“No, Munson. You don’t. I’m fucking sick. You know. You know I am. Fuck. I am humiliated.” He was openly crying now, hiccupping soft little breaths like he was moments away from a panic attack, which didn’t seem like an impossibility.

Eddie looked at his shaking shoulders, then turned his gaze up at the ceiling. A wave of defeat seemed to pass over him, like a thick shroud that numbed his anxiety and filled him with a sense of sudden, otherworldly calm. It was extraordinary, quite how much he had fucked this up. Steve, instead of jumping into his arms and ravaging him, was now having an emotional breakdown right beside him. He’d made Steve cry. Instead of bringing them together, he had pushed them apart. No further than a foot away from each other, they may as well have been on other continents in that moment.

With the calm and the defeat came the benevolent thought, like a heavenly doctrine from above: Fuck It.

“No, Steve. I really understand. I’m exactly the same as you. I get off to sneezing too. If you’re sick, then so am I.”

His delivery was flat and felt anticlimactic, but it was out there. He’d admitted it out loud, for the first time in all his twenty years. The relief he’d been expecting by confessing was entirely numbed by the bitter self-hatred, by Steve’s gentle crying beside him. He closed his eyes. Maybe if he sat still for long enough, he’d simply cease to exist.

“You really need to fuck off if you’re going to mock me.” Steve moaned into his hands.

“You don’t need to believe me. It doesn’t stop it from being true.”

Eddie sat there, stoic as a statue, entirely focused on his new mission of vanishing into the ether. He didn’t notice when Steve stopped crying, so when Steve placed a hand on his thigh, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Jesus-!”

“Are you serious?”

Eddie willed his soul back into his body, looking at Steve’s face – his poor blotchy face, eyes swollen and damp with salty tears – and felt himself smile, weakly, despite himself.

“Yeah, man. Is it really that surprising?”

He felt like crying too. He was utterly exhausted, and he’d done it all to himself. Him and his grand plans. At least Steve was no longer looking at him with hatred or pain. Now he wore a look of cautious inquisitiveness. He tried to focus on the sensation of Steve’s warm hand through his jeans, like a tether to the material world.

“Will you tell me more?” Steve asked, softly, like he was abashed at his own overreaction, and like Eddie was a delicate flower to be handled with care. Maybe his destructive meditation had started to work. Perhaps he was turning translucent right now, and Steve was trying to coax him back to total opacity. He laughed, a forced, reedy little sound.

“What do you want to know?” He smiled down at his knees. “That I’ve been teasing you in the hopes that you’d figure out I was the same? That I thought you would confess to me, that you might actually want to do something about it?”

He grit his teeth as tears of self-directed anger started to form, blurring the image of his knees and the back of Steve’s hand in his periphery. He breathed out shakily.

“That I’ve been driving myself mad with stupid fantasies and touching myself to the thought of you, Steve Harrington, actually being with me? Wanting me back in the same fucked up way?”

Steve’s hand gently tensed on his thigh. He carried on, unable to stop, letting the tears gently roll down his cheeks.

“I’m the one who’s mortified. I’m humiliated. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking, man. I never fucking think, I just do. I do stupid things all the time. I fucked up. I’ve made a fool of myself, and I made you fucking cry in the process, and I really fucking wish the ground would open up and swallow me right about now.”

He exhaled. That was the catharsis he had been looking for. He was bitterly angry with himself, but he felt lighter than he had in – well. An exceedingly long time.

Steve said nothing, and Eddie didn’t bother looking up. They had both stopped crying. The movie suddenly seemed too loud, penetrating their bubble. Eddie listened as Steve reached for the remote and turned the TV off entirely. His hand never left his thigh.

“Do you still want me to go?” Eddie asked, so low it was almost a whisper.

“…No. Don’t go.”

Eddie looked up in disbelief. Steve was looking at him with huge, sad eyes. Where there had once been icy hostility, there was now only warmth. Eddie swallowed, eyes flicking back and forth between each of Steve’s.

“I don’t disgust you? For what I did, and everything I just said?”

Steve shook his head.

“No. Not one bit.” Steve swallowed. “I just…can’t wrap my head around it. I didn’t know you liked guys?”

Eddie flashed him a wobbly smile.

“Neither did I. Not until you.”

Steve’s hand squeezed his thigh again, and despite everything, Eddie felt his cock hardening under the attention.

“So…” Steve said. “Do you – are you saying you like me, then?”

Eddie giggled at that, letting his head tip backwards until he was leaning back into the couch and laughing for real. When it didn’t stop, he pressed a hand to his mouth to muffle the sound. He peered at Steve under damp eyelashes, relieved to find him waiting patiently and decidedly not about to take a swing at him.

“Harrington…” He managed at last, “I just told you I jerked off thinking about you in the weirdest possible way. I told you I’ve been flirting with you. We talk on the phone almost every night. I think it’s safe to say that uhh, yeah, dude – I fucking like you a lot.”

Steve nodded, fucking nodded his head in response. He looked pensive, like Eddie had explained some kind of scientific theory to him and he was really chewing it over.

“Good. Good.” He nodded some more. Then he started to crawl up the couch until he was pressed right up against Eddie’s side.

“Steve,” Eddie breathed, arms instinctively coming up to wrap around the younger man’s shoulders as he positioned himself over him, thighs outside Eddie’s, sandwiching him in.

“I like you too. I think I just finally figured it out. I like you.” Steve seemed further emboldened with each word, like speaking it aloud had been the final push he needed to open up to the previously unimaginable.

Eddie’s heart was pounding so hard he thought he may be dying for the third time in as many minutes, but this time he found he didn’t care.

“Steve,” He sighed again, unable to say anything else, hoping it was enough to convey everything. His cock was an exclamation between his legs. Steve hummed in response, pressing their bodies together and cupping Eddie’s jaw in one hand. When their clothed erections rubbed against each other, they both shivered and moaned as though electrocuted. Steve held his face close to Eddie’s, eyes like molten liquid as he gazed at Eddie under hooded lids. Eddie’s breath puffed out against his lips.

“Is it okay if I kiss you now?” He murmured, so close Eddie could feel the words take form.

~~~~~

Eddie lunged forward in response, pressing their lips together and pulling a tiny sound of surprise out of Steve. Their teeth clacked together a little painfully, and Eddie would have cringed away if Steve hadn’t reciprocated with just as much enthusiasm moments later. It was a heated mess, but then they found their rhythm and everything felt fucking electric. They writhed against each other, moaning into each other’s mouths with every nip and suck.

Clawing at Steve’s shoulders, feeling like he was going insane with desire, Eddie sucked Steve’s tongue, hard. The rumbling of Steve’s reciprocal moan made Eddie’s hands tingle where they rested on his back, the reverberations sending chills down his arms. When Steve returned the favour, then pulled away with a filthy popping sound and starting nibbling at Eddie’s bottom lip, he made such a girly sound of appreciation it took him a moment to realise the sound was coming from him.

Steve’s hand continued to cup his face, his other hand supporting his position over Eddie against the back of the couch. The metalhead marvelled at how he could feel like such a soft puddle of nerves whilst being the hardest he had possibly ever been in his life – an oxymoronic existence. His cock was straining in his pants, honestly starting to hurt a little. He wanted to do more than just suck and moan and buck into Steve as he clung to him like a lifeline, but the kissing was so captivating he couldn’t bear to stop.

He didn’t really get much of a say in the matter, however, as moments later his nose began to prickle ominously. The tickle clearly didn’t like being ignored, especially after all the direct exposure to pollen fuelling its voracity. It was as if it had waited for his crisis to end and the kissing to start before rearing its head once more. Each time Steve’s nose nudged against his own, the tickle blossomed relentlessly. He groaned deeply, feeling lightheaded as his brain - slow and semi-functional, bereft of blood as it was - suddenly acknowledged what was about to transpire.

He pulled back with an awkward popping sound, Steve chasing him immediately and stopping only when Eddie turned his face away entirely.

“Hey,” Steve gasped, sounding immediately concerned. “Are you okay? Wanna stop?”

“N-no-” Eddie managed, stuttering as the tickle ground against his sinuses, leaving itchy tears to prickle at the corners of his eyes. He turned back to Steve. “I just – I have’to-!!”

He pulled in one final, lung-filling gasp, teetering on the edge for a moment before he felt Steve press his face into the crook of his neck and kiss at his heated skin. The pleasant surprise of it pushed him over the edge, buckling forward and sneezing violently over Steve’s shoulder and down the back of his T-shirt.

"EHhT'TSHhieww!! ISHHH'UU! Hah'EnGXT'TSchieww!! TIShhh!! HIG'TChieww! HAH'ESHHHhhh!! Ohh, fuck…"

Steve moaned into his neck, the vibrations sending further chills of pleasure through Eddie and raising even more goosebumps up and down his arms. He sniffled, feeling dazed and dreamlike, and then he was gasping again, albeit for a different reason as Steve started to suck a hickey onto the side of his throat. He didn’t believe the myth jocks liked to espouse that they were de facto sex gods, bragging about the pussy they got and the way they made girls cream the second they touched them – but Steve? He believed it now. His toes curled at the pleasure-pain of that sucking, just the right amount of teeth and pressure to leave him writhing.

“Fuckkk, Steve-!”

Steve pulled away at last, licking the sensitive skin and blowing on it, making Eddie shudder again. He kissed up Eddie’s jaw, all the way to his mouth.

“Bless you, Munson. You’re driving me crazy.” He murmured before kissing Eddie again.

“Mmm,” was all Eddie could manage for another moment, then he was kissing back harder.

“Did that…did it feel good?” Steve muttered against his lips when they reached a natural lull in the kissing. Eddie’s face heated, because yes, it had felt fucking incredible. His cock throbbed and throbbed in his jeans.

“Yeah, fuck. Feels so good to sneeze, Steve.”

Steve sighed in pleasure, laughing a little and kissing the side of his mouth.

“Well, I guess your allergies aren’t such a bad thing.”

“You have no idea,” Eddie gasped, lips feeling swollen as they kissed each other stupid, “How good they feel for me.”

“Then tell me, please.” Steve said, making it impossible for Eddie to do so as they kissed for another two minutes straight.

Breaking away with a moan, Eddie gripped at Steve’s shoulders, putting to the back of his mind that his iron grip was probably stretching the tight fabric beyond repair.

“It turns me on. Not just other people, but me…I like it when I sneeze, too.” His eyes were screwed shut as he confessed, but the way Steve’s breath hitched as he started to rock his hips against his own urged him forward.

“I have to jerk myself off most mornings, when the pollen count is stupidly high. I wake up sneezing, and sneezing, and it takes me so long to stop. I just have to let it happen. And it feels amazing.”

Steve swore, burying his face into Eddie’s neck again and starting to grind against him even harder. Eddie moaned and carried on.

“Sometimes it’s so much I can’t even get out of bed and take my meds before it starts. It’s like the pollen’s been teasing me all night long but there was nothing my nose could do until I woke up, and then it doesn’t stop. I have to touch myself,”

He let his hands travel down Steve’s spine, emboldened with every word.

“And I make myself cum. The sneezes make my whole body feel so good, it never takes me long. Sometimes I think about – hah! People watching me.”

He gasped mid-sentence as Steve started to suck another hickey, this time right near his jawline.

“I think about – about other people touching me, and holding me while I do it. Fuck it, Steve, I think about you. I think about your hand on my cock, making me cum, letting me sneeze all over you-!"

“Fuck, Eddie!” Steve reached down between them, unbuckling his pants and pulling them down. He hesitated for a moment before standing up, shucking them off entirely, then his t-shirt, until he was standing in front of Eddie in just his boxer briefs.

“God, Harrington. You’re – wow.” Eddie murmured, wishing he could do more than gape like a moron as he took in the sight of him. For what it was worth Steve seemed elated by the response, smirking and moving effortlessly now that he was in his element.

“You gonna join me?” Steve prompted after a moment longer of Eddie drooling at him.

“Oh! Yeah, fuck, hold on.”

Eddie all but yanked his band shirt over his head, swearing as his guitar pick necklace managed to get tangled in his hair in the process. He reached for the tangle, shooting Steve an apologetic glance but receiving a look of pure hunger at the sight of his shirtless torso, so intense that he felt like swooning. Steve reached down and unbuckled his pants for him, wordlessly pulling them down as Eddie shifted his hips up, letting him do so. At last he managed to free the traitorous necklace, yanking Steve down on top of him again. It felt even better like this, skin on skin, Steve’s chest hair tickling his pecs as they pressed together.

“You’re so hot, Eddie,” Steve said, sounding like he really meant it - sounding, if possible, even more enthusiastic than he had in any of Eddie’s fantasies.

“Look who’s talking.” Eddie smiled shyly back at him.

Steve lined their hips up for a moment, sighing happily as their cocks pressed together. To Eddie, it somehow felt like the thin fabric of their underwear alone was even more torturous than when they had had the additional barrier of their jeans. He rocked up against Steve, moaning against his collar bone and clutching at his waist. Steve kissed into his hair, wrapping his arms around his shoulders.

“Have you ever thought about me?” Eddie panted out, with great effort, as Steve shuffled out of his boxers and started to help Eddie out of his own.

Steve’s cock, as expected, was unfairly large and gorgeous. It was hard to miss through the outline of his jeans even totally flaccid – seeing it at full potential had Eddie’s mouth watering, but also making his own junk feel entirely insufficient in comparison. His cock, though not small and what he would personally describe as on the bigger side of average, seemed to cower for a moment. He immediately shut down that unwelcome train of thought, refusing to feel emasculated and jealous like a fucking loser when Steve was right fucking there in front of him, his huge dick hard for him. What the fuck.

Steve reached down and took Eddie’s cock in his warm, broad palm, cradling him for a moment. Eddie twitched immediately, drooling precum down Steve’s knuckles.

“Shit,” He whimpered, nails digging into Steve’s waist.

Steve pulled back his hand, spat into it, then started to pump him in earnest. Eddie’s head tipped back with one long, closed mouth groan. Fuck, that felt good.

“I have – thought about you.” Steve confirmed after a moment. “Is this okay?” He asked, stroking and squeezing a little harder as Eddie moaned his affirmation.

“I’ve thought about you a couple of times, but I didn’t – I tried not to think about it afterwards. I felt too – you know. Ashamed, I guess. We’re both guys and I was thinking about us together, and how you – aghh. You know what I mean.”

Steve was shy, Eddie realised. He was naked, sprawled on top of Eddie and pumping his cock like a pro, even rolling his balls in his sack with his other hand – and he couldn’t even bring himself to say the word ‘sneeze’. Eddie felt a sudden wave of mischievous energy embolden him.

“Thought about me sneezing, Steve?” He looked up at him, eyes hooded and bright. When Steve blushed, all pretty and flustered, Eddie’s cock lurched in his fist. He clenched his teeth, feeling his orgasm approaching at an embarrassing pace.

“Need to back it up, Harrington – fuck, you’re gonna make me cum, god.”

Steve sped up.

“That’s kind of the point, Munson. We’re having sex.”

“Smart-ass,” Eddie whined, toes curling as Steve stroked him mercilessly. “I haven’t even touched you yet, fuck.”

“Then touch me.” Steve sighed, bringing Eddie’s hand from his waist and urging it to his cock.

Eddie spat in his hand before touching him, but Steve was already so wet at the tip, he noticed with no small amount of pride, that he barely needed the extra lubrication. It was like masturbating in reverse, on a bigger, thicker cock than he was used to, but so familiar he took to it in no time. The sounds that Steve was making, the look on his face as Eddie pulled at him – it was so incredible that his own pleasure seemed to fade into the background. All he could focus on was Steve, on making him sigh and moan and whisper his name. He liked the way Steve’s hips thrust uncontrollably whenever he teased at his frenulum, so he did it again and again.

“Fuck,” Steve sighed, urging their cocks together and rocking his hips. It was a little awkward as they jerked each other off, and their knuckles kept bumping together, so Eddie reached up and pawed at Steve’s hairy chest and stomach instead, pinching and teasing at his nipples as Steve took over rubbing them both. When he reached behind and grabbed at Steve’s round, muscular ass, Steve all but growled, speeding up his efforts and causing both of them to gasp.

“Fuck, this feels so good. Why does this feel so good?” He sighed against Eddie’s mouth. Eddie didn’t know what to say, because he himself was having a hard time remembering his own name. He kissed Steve’s neck furiously, nuzzling into the hair at the nape of his neck, inhaling his scent as deeply as possible. He smelled so good, like sweat and hairspray and cologne and something uniquely Steve. When Eddie’s nostrils prickled ever so slightly in response, he thought of the little daisy, wrapped in his bandana beside them on the couch.

“Stevie,” He muttered against Steve’s mouth. “Do you want me to sneeze for you?”

Steve’s cock throbbed so powerfully in response Eddie was sure he was about to shoot right then and there. His red face and immediate extraction of his masturbating hand seemed to signify that that had very much been the case. He managed to hold back through sheer willpower. Their cocks bobbed against each other in the sudden absence of his grip.

“Fuck, yes, yes.” Steve panted.

Eddie smiled, reaching for his bandana. He twirled the little daisy between his fingers, and sat back.

“You ready?” He asked, shooting a crooked smile at Steve, who was staring at him with a look of total adoration.

“Yeah,” He sighed out, taking their cocks back into his grip and pumping them again.

“Do you mind if I sneeze on you?” Eddie asked, heart pounding in his chest. Steve’s cock throbbed against his own.

“Oh! N-No. I mean yes, please. On me, don’t turn away.” Steve managed, his whole chest flushing beneath the thick hair there.

Eddie’s cock throbbed as he brought the daisy up to his nose, feeling so excited he could hardly stand it. He inhaled the sweet scent of it, gently enough that the tickle built gradually, teasing both himself and Steve, prolonging the pleasure. At last, his nostrils gave a decisive twitch, flaring to capacity as the allergic tickle swelled beyond breaking point.

“Ohh, gonna sneeze! Fuck, yeah, mm’gonna-!”

Dropping the daisy and reaching up to grip Steve’s shoulders, Eddie let the tickly, teasing pollen overwhelm him.

"Hah'ETSCHH'Ieww!! ISHH'Ieww!! IESHHTTt!! Hah'ESHHH!! IGXSHtt-ISHhh-ISHh'iewww!!"

Like Steve requested, he didn’t turn away, more than happy to shower him with his sneezes as he had done in an embarrassing number of his personal fantasies. It always felt good to sneeze with his own hand on his cock – it felt even better in Steve’s grip, rubbing up against his solid prick. He didn’t particularly aim the sneezes anywhere, just let them do as they would – but he suspected they were going just about everywhere. Steve’s chest, neck, stomach – and most importantly, his cock. That last one he could confirm, his own cock throbbing each time he felt the aerosol of his sneezes rain down in a gentle mist.

Whether Steve had willingly timed his orgasm with the end of Eddie’s fit, or whether he simply couldn’t hold out anymore, the moment the last sneeze burst out of Eddie and onto his waiting skin he came with a shuddering moan. Eddie raked his fingernails down Steve’s back, gasping as he shuddered and pulsed against him, spurting in several long convulsions all over Eddie’s torso, some of his pleasure reaching far enough to paint white stripes over the metalhead’s chest. It looked – and sounded – like Steve was having an absolutely mind-breakingly good time, and Eddie’s own toes curled in response as his own climax lurched suddenly closer.

“Fuckkkk, Oh my god, Eddie,” Steve was moaning, trembling slightly as he came down from the heights of his high. Eddie squeezed his shoulders tightly in response.

“Steve, fuck me, I’m gonna cum!”

He was thrusting erratically, the extra lubrication of Steve’s orgasm facilitating the approach of his own, images of Steve’s face as he came, the sounds he made, the feeling of him shuddering against him all too much, his eyes screwing shut, and –

“Nooo, Steve, no!” He whined as Steve released both of their cocks, his own starting to soften post-orgasm.

Eddie swore, retracting his own hand from Steve’s back and reaching between his legs, only for Steve to pull it away by the wrist. He grunted in displeasure, looking up at Steve with accusatory eyes.

“Why’d you stop, man? I was right fuckin’ there.”

If a dick could frown, his would be doing so at that very moment. At least Steve had the decency to look apologetic, even as the afterglow of his own orgasm softened his eyes in naked satisfaction.

“Sorry, I just – I just thought you might want me to. Um. Return the favour? Since we’re,” Steve gestured with his hand, back and forth between them. “The same.”

It took Eddie a second, and then the realisation made his sensitive cock throb so violently he grunted with it.

“You’re offering to sneeze for me?” He asked, light-headed with anticipation.

“Yeah, if that’s something you’d want.”

Steve looked so shy, so fucking vulnerable, but his soft brown eyes were burning as they peered at Eddie, flicking this way and that, waiting for his confirmation.

“Steve, holy fuck –“ Eddie gripped him by the waist, squeezing him firmly. “That is something I want, like, 24/7, man. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more in my life, fucking shit.” He babbled.

Reassured, and laughing a little breathlessly, Steve stood up, walking the few paces to the coffee table and reaching for a box of tissues. Eddie stared openly at his flagging cock, still half-hard and hanging in front of him. He needed to cum so badly it was agonising.

Steve repositioned himself over Eddie, straddling him in a way that was starting to feel to Eddie like one of the most natural things in the world. His hands reached instinctively for Steve’s waist, then wandered down to squeeze at his ass.

He watched, swallowing hard as Steve extracted a tissue and started to twist a corner of it into a long, tapered point. It didn’t take long for Eddie to understand the functionality. He smirked up at Steve, feeling a new kind of excitement rush over him; the evidence of the practiced way the younger man had shaped the tissue to no doubt tickle himself made it seem real, concrete that they really were into the same, crazy shit.

Steve smiled back at him, looking pleased with Eddie’s reaction but embarrassed all the same. Eddie would fix that. He would make it his mission to chase away that anxiety.

“I sometimes use this when I can’t – you know. Or when I just want to. When I’m alone.”

“God, Steve. You’re perfect.” Eddie sighed out, bringing Steve into a bear hug and letting the sudden feelings of immense fondness for Steve blend together with his arousal, an intoxicating combination that made his chest tight and his cock even harder than before.

Steve pulled back after a moment, kissing Eddie’s cheek sweetly. He held the tissue up in front of them.

“You want to do it for me? I’ll jerk you off.” He said, sounding excited enough it was as though he hadn’t cum his brains out moments ago.

“Yeah. Holy fuck, yeah.”

Steve reached down without hesitation, and Eddie had to fight from letting his eyes roll back in his head and cum the second those long fingers returned to his length. The skin of his cock felt tight, like it was going to split. Steve hesitated, then tilted his head back, just a little, so that he was presenting his nostrils to Eddie. The older man wasted no time in cupping Steve’s jaw with one hand and inserting the tissue with the other.

“Do I just, like – wiggle it around a little?” He asked, eyelashes fluttering as Steve started to pick up the pace on his cock. God, this would not take long.

“Yeah,” Steve said, “Or sort of – thrust it. It tickles more when you – HH-HAH!! Y-yeah, like that.”

Eddie swore, biting his lip as his cock pulsed, drooling over Steve’s hand in a pre-emptive spasm. He was tickling Steve’s nose – he was actively about to make Steve sneeze. He continued to move the tissue back and forth, gently prodding and watching Steve’s nostrils twitch and flare in response. To Steve’s credit, he was doing a wonderful job of squeezing and stroking Eddie throughout the tickling and teasing.

His chest started to jump with sporadic gasps, every single one threatening to push Eddie over the edge. It felt like he was burning up from the inside, like the intensity of his oncoming orgasm was simply too much for his body to handle and he would actually burst into flame. Steve’s nostrils flared, slackened, flared again as the tickle played with him. When Eddie prodded the tool as deeply as he could, that seemed to be the final straw for Steve. He gasped, a ruined, desperate sound of defeat as at last the tickle crested.

The sound of that final inhalation paired with the desperate look on Steve’s face and the expert stroking of his cock was too much. Eddie felt a wave of heat wash over him, holding him rigid for a moment, and then he was coming, so pleasurable he could barely make sense of it. He desperately wanted to watch Steve sneeze, up close and personal, just for him, but his head was tipping back in a silent scream as he convulsed against the couch. He trembled helplessly, unable to do anything other than fuck gently into Steve’s fist and grip the couch cushions beside him.

He heard Steve’s sneezes seconds later as they tore their way through him – as loud and desperate as he’d ever heard them – his whole body singing in pleasure as he continued to cum.

“HUHHH'RISSSHHHH'UUUU!! HAGKT'TISHHHHH!! AEESSSHHHHHUUUU!!!"

Each sneeze sprayed across his chest and stomach in a rush of warm air and cool aerosol, and the sensation was so erotic he felt his orgasm intensify when it should have been starting to dim. He reeled with it, spilling over Steve’s fist and his own skin, throbs of pleasure that seemed to go on and on. And then it was over, and he was melting into the cushions, no longer a person but molten liquid in the shape of one.

“Ohhh...Oh my god.” He managed after a little while, staring up at the ceiling. Steve’s face leaned into his line of vision, stupidly handsome as he smiled down at him.

“That good, huh?”

Eddie huffed a small laugh out at him, then squeezed his eyes shut as the endorphins overwhelmed him, threatening to make him cry. He felt Steve lean forward, pressing up against him and nuzzling into him. His shaky arms enclosed Steve in a hug. God, but he’d felt that nut right down to his fingertips. He felt like he’d jizzed himself into another existence. His body felt clean, detoxified.

“Eddie.” Steve muttered, face buried in his curls.

“Mm?”

“We’re both covered in cum.”

“Nice.”

“I’m getting a towel.”

“Too late.” Eddie giggled, feeling loopy and stoned.

“A damp one, to clean us up, dumbass.” Steve laughed, shakily standing up and batting Eddie jokingly across the top of his head.

“Oww.” Eddie said, even though he’d barely felt the whisper of the touch, and giggled again.

“Be right back,” Steve was saying as he walked out of the room, wobbling as though drunk, and Eddie waved him off.

He sat there, still staring at the ceiling like it held the answers to the universe. His body and mind were completely blissed out; every nerve was singing happily as he luxuriated in the afterglow, letting himself slowly acknowledge what the fuck had just happened to him. What the fuck he and Steve had just done, willingly, enthusiastically, even after he had fucked up so hugely.

He didn’t realise he’d dozed off until he felt the cool touch of a damp towel on his stomach.

“Here.” Steve smiled at him, urging Eddie to wipe his torso off as he did the same. Eddie managed it mechanically, still feeling more liquid than human.

Steve sighed and collapsed next to him on the couch, leaning his own head back and joining Eddie in looking up at the ceiling.

“We should shower, really.”

“We should.” Eddie agreed, but they both just sat there.

When Steve reached out and slipped his hand into Eddie’s, Eddie gripped him back, sliding his fingers between the younger man’s and squeezing softly.

“Hey.” Eddie said, rolling his head to the side and looking at Steve.

“Hey.” Steve looked back at him, glancing pointedly at his mouth, and then they were both kissing again.

“Go out with me?” Steve asked as they leaned their foreheads together, panting breathlessly.

“Yes.” Eddie breathed out, and Steve’s hands covered him all over again, and everything was electric.

~~~FIN~~~

And with that, Steddie are finally together 🥳

For anyone who is interested, this is the night club scene that is playing in the background whilst Eddie and Steve start having that awful little fight. Such inconvenient timing, honestly

[titoist]

the instinct that drives me, fills me with the need, to recount my experiences online really is a tricky one to attempt to pinpoint at any given time. i could say that it feels a bit like a shadowy instinct that's been subtly influencing my decisions for awhile, but, really & more accurately, it feels more like a weight i have to put on with a hearty sigh each morning & carry out throughout the day, with no signs of being able to put it to rest in the foreseeable future. my writing is very, very important to me. i am deeply protective of the time that i use to write. it serves as the only tool at my disposal for dissecting the arbitrary phenomena & social conditions that have led to my lifelong estrangement from more-or-less every single other human being on earth - & it allows me to do so on my own terms, whenever i would like, however i would like... the core conceit, here, being that it seems to require an audience. & from there on, frequent confirmations that said audience isn't disinterested, or non-understanding, or ignorant of what exactly it is that i'm trying to say. &, as an obverse, i would prefer to not feel like i have too many eyes on me, too much exposure - like there are people reading my posts & acknowledging & comprehending my existence, but merely & exclusively as a means to get some sort of brief emotional hit before scrolling further. to haphazardly paraphrase someone i know who wrote about their experiences shockingly similar to this: "if everyone generally proves too apathetic or stupid-"(though i would personally not use the adjective 'stupid')"-to care then my only recourse is to just keep writing with clenched teeth & bide my time & survive until someone comes along who does care & basically justifies life as worth living purely on that basis" & my attempts at trying to extinguish this instinct for the last few months really have felt like... rearranging desk chairs on the titanic, maybe. having a dedicated space to myself, where i carry out behavior partially similar to the one on this blog but within a confined group of people who are trusting - & then shifting most of my blog energy to that - has really been the only halfway-functional solution for now. i think it's another thing i might just have to live in spite of, until some solution hopefully presents itself.

[jeanstapleton]

terry being taken down the way he did makes sense but that doesn’t make it good. that’s something a lot of ck fans don’t have a grasp on; that certain writing choices absolutely do fit the characters but don’t fit with an actual meaningful playout of the story. imo they should have stretched out the conflict into the sixth (& hopefully final) season, because i did like the re-introduction of terry revolving around his psychology.

him starting off as a one-dimensional satire of capitalism doesn’t mean that expanding upon his psychology automatically makes him a sympathetic figure. neither the fandom nor the writers themselves seem to understand this. both love to laud the show’s portrayal of the “gray areas of morality” & how no character is truly good or bad when the narrative doesn’t even allow them to mentally confront their trauma. its always physical. always barking tactics and showing flashbacks instead of having quiet moments where the characters are left alone with themselves. terry’s the only character who’s actually had brief (VERY brief) moments like these.

back to the original point, terry is a figure who should have succumbed to himself. one of the episode titles is literally “ouroboros”. he’s always been a being of devotion, to kreese and now to himself. his canon endgame doesn’t seem to actually have an end -- you make your way of karate the most popular in the world, and...what? you just assume everyone will share the ideals you’ve infected it with? its so cartoonish.

it ties back to my argument that he should not have bribed the referee. he should have won the tournament fair and square, so that he could continue to be an “effective” teacher who does what he does best: taking the worst aspects of a budding teenager’s fragile psyche and exacerbating them under the guise of self-actualization. this is what he knows, what he practices, and what he was taught by the american military. he accepts everything about himself except the fact that he is and always will be an extension of the military industrial complex, because that would in turn expose not a lack of autonomy -- because joining the army is a choice -- but precisely the reverse. you made the wrong choice, the worst choice, and there’s nothing you can do to rectify it. johnny, daniel, and chozen all made the wrong choices in their youth, but they were able to look inward and turn their lives around. meanwhile, terry would rather die than admit he built the cage and locked himself in it in the first place. its too humiliating. (more weight to the scene where kreese intimidates him! a cage of sexuality/lack thereof, a cage of carnage, a cage of white american vainglory, etc.)

the way this would play into his downfall would be the cobra kids actively choosing to turn against him, instead of a big exposure plot. the kids suffering mentally under his tutelage and learning on their own to look inward for change, to forgive themselves for making bad choices. the kids ultimately choosing to not be like him, to not become someone who chose an unforgivable path and eventually melted into its foundation. daniel had this revelation, and defeated terry the first time.

this happened to kreese, and he would have suffered the same fate eventually had he not played on terry’s love for him (which in and of itself only exists in the limbo of subtext, but terry having unrequited romantic feelings for kreese plays a huge part in this) while underestimating how deeply obsessive terry is as a way of compensating for his own emptiness. like the scene in hannibal where he tells will “im where you can always find me” while being put in handcuffs. do i think terry is genuinely in love with kreese? subtextually, and for the sake of this reading, yes. earnest human characteristics in truly reprehensible villains, once again, do not make them sympathetic. they merely show the universality of evil.

this would not only crush terry on the teaching front, because he’d genuinely believe he was a good teacher, but also on the legacy front. i actually like the base concept of terry being wistful about children, half because its another trait that makes him more human, and half because it defangs the sexual aspect of him being a child predator, since so many people are uncomfortably fixated on that for Certain Reasons. do army recruiters not prey on children?

more to the point, itd be a big paul-dano-riddler “AAARRGH IT WASNT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN LIKE THIS” moment where he, and his cage, fall in on themselves. his idea of love and enrichment was never that in the first place, and all he has is a legacy of failure. the snake succumbs to its own bite.

[notchesandbullets]

Tangy Starfruit and White Sea Foam (Tiger!Todoroki x Reader)

Warnings: none, unless you count ridiculous amounts of fluff and shenanigans (oh and cursing). hints of BKDK and Kami x Jirou, pro-hero AU, aged-up!AU, Todoroki’s a tiger as a result of a quirk accident that happened on the job. Todoroki and reader are in a established relationship. Bakugou gets tied to a tree, Shinsou and Tsuyu are good friends, you and Todoroki may have a mishap on your hands in the near future. Featuring the rest of class A + Shinsou.

A/N: third and final piece for @ultimate-astridwriting​ ‘s hybrid collab!! i had an entirely different thing written out for tiger todoroki, it was 2.5k words full of angst bc real life is shitty atm but then bam, i got an idea while eating dinner and now here we are xD. get ready for sun and sand at the beach with a graduated class A!!

Words: 7k

Golden sun raised high in the sky scorched the earth below, turning the pristine white sand into scalding hot lava. But that didn’t hold back the group of 22 from surging forth.

Happy squeals that tumbled from the girls as they caught sight of the sparkling blue waves dancing on the horizon turned into wheezing laughs and yelps as the sand burned their bare feet.

Jirou whooped, a wide smile stretched across her face as she grabbed Yaoyorozu’s hand. “Last one in is a rotten egg!!”

“No fair, Kyoka-chan!!” Uraraka huffed as she pumped her short legs to go faster and catch up. 

Kaminari hollered obnoxiously, screaming all the way into the ocean as he tore right past you. 

“Do not run!!!!” Iida yelled, trying to make himself be heard above the clamor but to no avail.

You smiled at him sympathetically but he merely shook his head and followed after them to make sure none of his former classmates hurt themselves. 

They’re lucky to have you… You thought to yourself, clapping a hand over your mouth when the sound of him scolding Mina and Sero reached your ears from all the way across the deserted beach. 

You had found this isolated spot a long time ago, back when you lived on your own and had yet the privilege of calling anyone family. This was a place of comfort for you, a gem hidden away from the greedy eyes of the world looking to corrupt anything and everything that was pure. 

Here, you found solace. You found peace.

After you graduated from UA and everyone was giving each other teary goodbye hugs in the common floor filled with all the boxes of things they all had to move into moving trucks, you offered up one day. One day, if everyone wanted to come, you would show them a place very special to you.

The girls had a vague idea of where you guys were going based on the swimsuit dress code. In all honesty, maybe you should’ve made it a little harder for them, but they were your friends. And you were too excited. 

Here, on this beach hidden by dense foliage and sheer cliffs, your little piece of paradise remained a secret. Until now.

“Y/N, come on!!!” Hagakure shouted, waving excitedly for you to join them.

“In a minute!!” You yelled back, looking back to see if your boyfriend was following. “Shouto?”

You spun around in a full circle when you couldn’t find him, a frown twisting your features until Shoji came up behind you and tapped you on the shoulder.

“He’s coming.” He told you, jerking his chin back a few paces the way you guys came to signal where he last saw him.

You shot him a look of relief for his well-timed reassurance. “Thanks.”

Shoji dipped his head, hoisting the basket slung over his shoulder higher as he motioned for Tokoyami to pass you. “No problem.” 

A skeptical Tokoyami followed the gentle giant, muttering under his breath why the use of quirks had to be banned for today. Koda waved to you shyly and you smiled.

Iida had made it a rule for the day that no quirks were allowed to be used unless in case of an emergency. This was to do damage control and hopefully prevent a fight between Bakugou and literally anyone else. 

No one had any arguments. They were all here to relax, not think about their work life. All villains and life outside of this paradise was put on hold until tomorrow came.

You decided to wait until Todoroki caught up with you, and since everyone had raced on ahead, eager to soak up as much sun as they could on the one off day they were all able to get off together, you leaned back against the rough rock and tilted your head up to the sky.

Sighing wistfully, your eyes fluttered shut as the sun’s blazing afternoon rays warmed your body.

You knew what showing them this place meant, and you knew that your friends were fully aware of it. It had been something so special to you for so long that you sharing it with them meant that you trusted them a great deal. 

They were honored.

As rising pro-heroes in the world, they were constantly swamped with malicious villains, endless paperwork, press conferences and training the next generation. There was no time for rest.

But your former classmates were insistent that time be taken out for that purpose amidst all the craziness, especially Bakugou. 

Down time was important. It was necessary. Or else you all would burnout and then none of you would be any good to save anybody. 

This is why you chose this place. 

It was secluded enough where there was no paparazzi, no cameras, no exposure and no one was the wiser. Here, you guys could be as loud and as free as you wanted because there was no one around to threaten that fragile bubble of happiness. 

Heaving the bulging bag full of food and other amenities that you had swiped from Yaoyorozu as soon as you guys arrived higher on your shoulder, you wiped the bead of sweat from your forehead as it started to drip down your face.

“Shouto, c’mon!!” You encouraged aimlessly, since you didn’t know where he was. “Don’t you want to join the others?”

A faint rustle came from the bush a yard away from you and then it stilled. “No.”

You fought back a smile at the curt reply. You could almost envision that pout on his lips. Cheeky boy.

“Shouto~” You sang, fishing out a piece of his favorite food and waving it in the air, knowing that he could smell it. “I have a present for you…”

A beat of silence passed, and then two fluffy ears, one white and one red, poked out from the brush.

You suppressed a smile, knowing that would only make him leave in a huff and then his stubbornness wouldn’t let him come out and joy you for another hour. You couldn’t do that, he would miss all the fun!!

Waving it a bit more so that the enticing scent of the delectable food encouraged him out of his hiding place, you opted to hold your ground. “C’mon, Shouto. I promise, no tricks.”

His facial expression didn’t change but his ears perked up a bit and you couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped you. He was adorable.

Todoroki’s face fell the second he heard you laugh. “You’re laughing at me.”

You stopped immediately and straightened up, shaking your head. “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.” He pushed back, crossing his arms over his chest as he stepped out of the bush with stray leaves clinging to his fur and branches sticking out of his head. Plopping down on the dirt, he puffed out his cheeks.

Your eyes softened and you set down the heavy bag, keeping your form relaxed as you tuned out the splashing and shrieks of laughter coming from the ocean.

“I’m sorry I laughed.” You apologized sincerely, never once breaking eye contact with your boyfriend. “I just thought you were very cute.”

Todoroki snorted, a sound so unlike his normally stoic and guarded demeanor, burrowing his face into his arms resting atop of the knees tucked into his chest. “That’s not funny…”

Your smile saddened a fraction as a memory washed over you as though it just happened yesterday. 

Trouble had a habit of finding your beloved boyfriend and last week was no different. 

The villain he was fighting against had a particularly interesting quirk, since he could manifest certain traits of people into their animal counterpart based solely on their personalities. 

Todoroki wasn’t put off until someone pointed out that he must have rage like a tiger, making him internalize everything and now a good seven days later, he still had yet to come to terms with his appearance and strange habits involving a diet of primarily meat. 

Fuyumi had sobbed how grateful she was that you were willing to take care of her brother in your apartment until the effects of the quirk dissipated. He was arguing with his father a lot more than usual and the tension in the Todoroki home had skyrocketed.

You brushed it off, merely telling her it was the least that you could do. 

Your boyfriend had a tough time adjusting to his new normal. Things were hard for him to grab and he couldn’t cuddle you like he was used to. He liked walking on all fours since he found he could go a lot faster when he used all his appendages instead of only half. 

His quirk, however, had been giving him a particularly rough time and the finesse he had honed of over the years disappeared overnight.

To say that Todoroki was upset about it was an understatement. 

He would do nothing else but sit in his room for days when you brought him home with you, refusing to let you in unless you came with a peace offering. 

That always smoothed things enough for you to talk to him and you were hoping it wouldn’t fail you now.

Todoroki eyed the fish skeptically, tilting his head curiously when you offered it up to him once more. With the pace of a snail, he uncurled from his protective ball and padded forward slowly, raising his nose in the air to sniff.

“Hungry?” You asked sympathetically. 

Todoroki hesitated a second before nodding slowly. 

Your shoulders dropped and you knelt down, holding it out to him. “Here.”

His eyes lit up and his tail flicked back and forth, gaze darting to you instinctively as though to ask if it really was okay.

You bit back a smile but the corners of your eyes still crinkled and you inclined your head to give him the go ahead.

Before you could blink, the fish was swiped from your hand and as soon as your eyes focused, you burst out laughing.

There, Todoroki crouched on the ground, chomping on the tasty treat.

Wiping off the palm of your hands on your hiking shorts, you beamed down at him, offering out your hand for him to take. “Feel better now?”

“Maybe…” He mumbled quietly as he polished it off before reluctantly accepting the invitation.

It wasn’t that he didn’t love you or love to shower you with affection, it was just that he was used to doing all of that when he was fully a human, not a hybrid. 

It was weird.

He found himself clinging desperately to your old t-shirts when you left the home to go on patrol, waiting around for you to come back. He heard when your heartbeat would speed up whenever he was around and how your breath hitched when he leaned in to kiss you goodnight.

Ever since the start of your relationship, he had been the one to take care of you. And he liked it that way.

This dynamic was foreign to him. And he wasn’t sure if it was because he truly disliked you taking care of him, or if it was because of something else. 

Todoroki was broken out of his deep thoughts the instant you came to stand right next to Iida. 

Before he knew what he was doing, the edges of his mouth pulled back in a menacing snarl and he pounced.

The unsuspecting Iida landed hard on the white sands with an ‘oomph’.

“Todoroki-kun!! Please control yourself!!” Iida shouted, doing his best not to hurt him as the tiger hybrid clawed at him.

You gasped. “Shouto!! Oh my gosh, Iida, I’m so sorry!!”

Pulling him off of the other, you went rigid as your boyfriend whined in your ear. The sound was too low for anyone else to pick up on, but you heard it. 

“What’s wrong?” You whispered as Iida brushed off his swim shorts, thrusting his hand straight up into the air to stop Kaminari from drowning himself in an attempt to prove to Sero and Mina that he could hold his breath longer than they could.

Todoroki wrapped his arms around your waist, mouth pressed in a thin line as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. 

You allowed yourself to relax against him as he pawed feebly at your sides, getting as close to him as possible. 

With the increase in physical contact, the tension melted away from Todoroki’s broad form and you heaved a sigh of relief. 

“Awwwww~” You cooed teasingly, reaching behind you to pinch his cheek gently and tugging until his smile morphed into a scowl. “Who’s the big scary tiger?”

Todoroki swatted you away, scrambling back until he was free from your affectionate hold on him. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t control his protective instincts and it certainly wasn’t his fault for reacting the way that he did when he smelled Iida’s scent all over you. You were his.

Of course he was going to protect you.

Baring his teeth at the tease, he hissed, tiny fangs on display. 

You shouldn’t have found that as cute as you did.

Two more bodies shouldered their way past you and you grinned. 

“Took you two long enough.” You smirked, wrangling your boyfriend back when he struggled in the firm grip you had around his arms to prevent him from knocking another person over.

The power couple had a habit of falling behind their ranks while getting lost in their own world. It was disgustingly cute.

Bakugou rolled his eyes angrily and gnashed his teeth. “Now you’re counting, dumbass? You’re worse than the shitty nerd.”

Midoriya ignored that comment as he sidled past you warily, forest green eyes sympathetic once they fell on your significant other. “Todoroki-kun still hasn’t changed back yet?”

He had seen the news coverage on it when the incident happened. Luckily, he wasn’t physically harmed, just physically altered, but it didn’t look like it was going away anytime soon.

Planting your hands on your hips, you yelped as Todoroki ripped himself from your grasp to tear off after Shinsou and tackled him next when he got too close to you. “No, not yet.”

Spraying white sand everywhere with his hind legs, it was almost endearing how his head raised and heterochromic eyes blinked back at you as soon as your voice sounded, silently begging for permission. 

You followed his gaze to the ocean spray behind you and shook your head fondly, suppressing a smile as you jerked your head in Yaoyorozu’s direction. She would watch over him and make sure none of the other boys bullied him.

“Go on.” You encouraged softly, and that was all he needed.

While Bakugou set up the tent for him and his boyfriend so that Midoriya wouldn't get sunburnt, not that he would ever admit to doing it for that reason, your best friend eagerly asked for updates on all the latest changes.

Whipping out his hero notebook, his eyes shone with enthusiasm. “What has he been eating?! Does he prefer tuna or white cod? Oh, oh, oh, is there a difference in his quirk?! How does it impact his—” 

Midoriya’s endless and excited rambling was cut off by his fuming boyfriend as he smacked him over the head and he cried out in pain, clutching his head. “Wahhhhh, Kacchan!!!”

“Shut the hell up, Deku.” Bakugou snarled, stomping past him to throw a bottle of sunscreen at you. “Put this on, shitty woman.”

You grinned, already squeezing the tube to squirt some onto your hand and slathered it on your arms. “Aw, you do care.”

“Go die.” He hissed, turning on his heel so abruptly that he almost slipped.

You refrained from giggling as he furiously, yet meticulously, took out various food items from the picnic basket that he had brought with. No matter how much he claimed he didn’t care about any of you, actions sure spoke louder than words. 

Class A had graduated from UA all together and each and every one of you had secured a spot as a sidekick for many top pro-heroes all around the country. Before a year had even passed, all 22 of you had made a name for yourself, so much so that you were all almost as famous as the pros.

Midoriya was the first one to start his own agency, no surprise there. But what was a surprise was Bakugou following right after to build one right next to his.

The general public suspected it was because that area where their agencies were was riddled with violent crime, but you knew better. You all did, really.

How could anyone miss the lingering gazes filled with adoration and passion?

“Y/N, come on!!” Shinsou hollered, ducking under Shoji’s arm to sprint back towards you. “You’re missing all the fun!!”

“Be right there!!” You shouted back, rearranging the tablecloth on the ground so that it would lay flat.

You still needed to grab the bag you left at the foot of the cliffs because it was getting too heavy for you to carry. But you chanced a glance up and the glimpse of your friends had a wide smile breaking out on your face. 

Todoroki was splashing in the shallows, completely soaking his fur. Jirou and Hagakure shrieked as Mina chased the two of them around, sparking an impromptu game of tag. Koda was in the middle of showing Tokoyami his seagull friend when Uraraka bumped into him. 

Tsuyu and Kirishima were beachcombing for shells a little bit away when Kaminari skidded to a halt in front of them with Yaoyorozu in tow.

Aoyama, Ojiro, Sato, Iida and Mineta were playing beach volleyball with the inflatable ball that the former class president had brought along with them. 

Dragging the beach bag behind you over to your spot that you set up far away from the shore so that when the tide came in, it wouldn’t wash everything away, you took out an array of towels, more sunblock, floaties, snacks, water bottles, coverups and a pair of sunglasses for Aoyama in case he forgot his again.

Standing up tall, you cupped your hands over your mouth and yelled, “Lunchtime!!!”

Several whoops and hollers pierced the salty air and you snorted when Midoriya almost tripped over his boyfriend’s outstretched feet in his haste to get there first. 

Amidst the clamor and friends swarming around you, you twisted around, looking for your tiger hybrid boyfriend. “Shouto—”

“I’m here.” 

You jumped as the low rumble sounded right by your ear, shivering unconsciously as his warm chest pressed up against your back. 

“Hey…” You murmured as he mashed the top of his head in between your shoulder blades before planting a soft kiss there. “Did you have fun?”

He nodded, resting his chin on your shoulder to look over it as everyone rearranged themselves in a large circle. 

You and Bakugou took care of the food prep while all your friends engorged themselves on the pre-made sandwiches and finger food.

“Oi, half-n-half bastard.” Bakugou growled, breaking the bubble of peace you two had with his temper that came out the longer your hands stayed motionless. “Stop bothering her, she’s not doing shit.”

Normally Bakugou’s crude language didn’t bother or upset Todoroki in any way, so you were shocked with a snarl echoed, washing over the group and effectively silencing them.

You squeaked as his arms tightened around you almost protectively and landed with an ‘oof’ as he pulled you to the ground.

“Shouto?!” You cried out incredulously as he unabashedly nuzzled his face into the hollow of your throat, setting his thick thighs on either side of you.

You rolled your eyes when Bakugou went rigid with anger. You could feel the heat emitting from your beloved’s glare as he locked stares with the pomeranian who was furious that the dumb extra thought he was flirting with you.

“That’s enough.” You scolded, though it was unclear who you were really talking to. 

Neither wavered.

“Icyhot, you dumb fuck.” Bakugou spat, never once breaking eye contact, even as the chatter picked up again. 

Todoroki snarled but the expression of rage contorted into meek sheepishness as you ran your fingers lightly through his hair, being mindful of his ears. 

Humming softly, you coaxed him back down to earth long enough for common sense to return to him. 

Todoroki bundled you up in his arms, tail swishing back and forth lazily as he held you. “Sorry.”

You shook your head at his apology, knowing he couldn’t fully control his impulses sometimes. “Not your fault.”

Bakugou snorted, smacking Kirishima in the face with a fish fillet when he asked to see what he was cooking. “Yes it fucking is.”

He just barely managed to dodge the shoe you launched at his head, straightening up with an enraged scowl etched on his features.

“OI!!!!”

You giggled, wiggling back to get comfortable against Todoroki’s chest. “You deserved it.”

“TAKE THAT SHIT BACK!!!!!” He thundered, smoke coming out of his ears.

“Kacchan!!” Midoriya cried out, wrestling back his boyfriend before his temper tantrum could reach the two of you. 

He begged Jirou or Kaminari to help him but the two of them simply flipped the bird to Bakugou, and he exploded. 

Literally. 

What happened next was a flurry of the class rep containing the situation and a spark of green lightning before it was over as quickly as it started. 

“I’m going to fucking kill all of you.” Bakugou seethed angrily, eye twitching from where his loving boyfriend had used One for All to pin him to the ground, tying him to the trunk of a nearby coconut tree until he calmed down.

“Ah…” Midoriya winced sheepishly as his glare turned on him. “K-Kacchan—”

Jirou’s loud slurping of the smoothie that Sato just made interrupted him and she regarded the fuming grown man disinterestedly. “Who’s up for a game?”

“Oh, oh, oh, meeeee!!!” Hagakure shouted, raising her hand high in the air alongside Uraraka and an intrigued Tsuyu. 

“MEEEEEE!!!!” Mina screamed, nearly blowing out Kaminari’s eardrums as he collapsed on top of his girlfriend.

Jirou pushed him off without hesitation, fighting back a smirk when he let out an overexaggerated whimper of pain, knowing full well that he wasn’t actually hurt.

Shoji stopped what he was doing to pay attention and even the usually shy Koda looked interested in her proposal on how to deal with the tied up pomeranian thrashing in place. 

Jirou raised an eyebrow slyly and everybody held their breath in anticipation.

One.

Two.

Three.

“PIN THE TAIL ON THE BAKUGOU!!!!!” Jirou screamed, holding up a sticky dart that they all regularly used for training.

How she managed to sneak equipment out of the agency she worked at was beyond you.

Jirou whooped, scrambling forward and held it up high. “I’m going first!!”

“Me next, Kyoka-chan!!!” Uraraka pleaded.

“Class A, this is highly inappropriate!!!!” Iida shouted, trying to curb the situation before it got out of hand.

Too late.

As the girls, save for Yaoyorozu, clustered gathered around a livid Bakugou, Tokoyami uncrossed his arms and pushed off of his post from where he had been keeping watch over the perimeter of the beach.

“I will join.”

You and Todoroki were both surprised, not expecting the normally reclusive individual to join in on the shenanigans. 

Your dropped jaw caught Tokoyami’s attention and the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. 

“I find great satisfaction in tormenting the souls of the wicked.” He declared impassively and a light bulb went off in your head. 

“Ahhhhh,” You drew out with a grimace. “I get it.”

Back when you guys had lived in the dorms, Bakugou had made the fatal mistake of scaring Tokoyami during Halloween, making the latter let out an inhuman scream that traveled all the way across campus. Even though he had sworn to the moon and back that it was accidental, that there was no way he was actively participating in the game that Raccoon-Eyes and Flat Face had going on, Tokoyami never forgot it.

And now it was time for his revenge. 

Tokoyami caught the tomato that Sero threw his way and tossed it up in the air with the most menacing glare on his face as everyone advanced to the struggling pro-hero.

“Bakugou, you ready?!” Kirishima shouted excitedly, removing the gag from his best friend’s mouth.

“PISS OFF, SHITTY HAIR!!!!” Bakugou exploded once he was free, yanking at his restraints even though he had no chance of getting out of them. 

His boyfriend tied them.

Hagakure tapped Jirou’s shoulder warily. “You think we should’ve left it on?”

The other girl shrugged nonchalantly, unbothered by the rage rolling off of him in waves. “Eh, he would’ve found a way out of it eventually.”

Shinsou twirled a piece of Tsuyu’s hair that he was braiding, boredly looking on at all the chaos as they all pushed and pulled each other. He had asked Aizawa to teach him how back when he lived in the dormitory so that he could do it for Eri whenever she came over to visit. 

“Shinsou-chan, are you going to take a turn?” She asked curiously, staying still so that he could braid her long hair properly.

He shrugged even though she couldn’t see him. “I don’t really see the point in it.”

“Kero,” She ribbeted thoughtfully. They were the only two not contributing to the shouting other than you and Todoroki. “I see.”

“Ehhhh?!?!” Kaminari exclaimed, losing his footing as he accidentally tripped over Kirishima’s foot and crashed into Shinsou.

Shooting him a sharp glare as all his hard work undid itself, Shinsou pushed himself off the ground, not sparing him a glance as he marched back over to the frog girl to fix it.

You giggled to yourself at Kaminari’s expression of mock hurt but pursued your lips quickly when his head snapped towards the sound. Pure smile dripping with innocence, your shoulders shook with laughter when he turned all the way around suspiciously, piercing gaze landing on his girlfriend as she doubled over with laughter at something Yaoyorozu said.

Bakugou thrashed helplessly against the coconut tree. “I’M GONNA FUCKIN’ KILL YOU, EARPHONES!!!!!”

But Jirou’s boisterous chortling was all that answered his threat.

You sank back against Todoroki, sighing blissfully despite the war raging on as they started the game, Bakugou protesting violently all the way. 

Angling your head up, your eyes squinted against the sun but you still smiled as soft fur brushed your cheek.

“Are you happy, Shouto?” You asked softly, quiet enough to not catch the attention of the others as they yelled for Midoriya to keep his boyfriend still.

He paused, choosing to play with the fringe of your shirt instead of responding right away. “Right now?”

Your smile dimmed a fraction, not expecting that answer. “... I suppose I meant just in general, but you could answer with whatever comes to mind…”

You trailed off, leaving the question itself open ended so that he could opt not to answer it if he didn’t feel comfortable.

Todoroki hesitated. “Where… Where is this coming from?”

Outright frowning now, you pushed off his knee so that you could sit across from him to see him better. 

“I was just wondering...” You said slowly, trying to keep the defensiveness out of your voice. 

Was he not happy? Why did he hesitate? Would he be happier with someone else? Did he not want to be with you anymore?

You shook your head at the insecure thoughts invading your head. That wasn’t right. He would’ve told you if he didn’t want to put work into this relationship anymore. You two had made that pact when you started dating, to break it off if one person no longer wanted it instead of stringing the other along and ended up hurting you both in the long run.

Taking a deep breath to calm yourself down from spiraling too far, you steadied your heart before opening your mouth again.

“I asked because I wanted to know.” You told him honestly, speaking from the heart. “Your happiness matters a lot to me, I always want you to be happy. That’s why I wanted to ask.”

Placing a hand on his knee, you smiled apologetically at him and the shenanigans from your friends faded into white noise as you tuned out everything else besides him. 

Your Shouto. The person you loved the most in this entire world. The one who had been with you through thick and thin and the one who swore he would never abandon you. 

He knew what those words meant to you. He had your heart.

And you had his. 

Todoroki’s heterochromic eyes softened a fraction and his ears and tail drooped as he realized that he had acted so defensively out of reflex.

“I—”

“You don’t have to apologize.” You reassured him swiftly, clearly. You knew what he was going to say. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Todoroki’s rapid heartbeat steadied at the loving conviction in your voice and a breath he didn’t know he had been holding in whooshed out of his lungs.

Reaching out, he laced his slim fingers with yours and tugged you closer to rest his forehead against yours. 

He closed his eyes and sighed. 

“I am happy.” He murmured quietly so that only you could hear him, emphasizing the soft declaration with a gentle squeeze of your hand. “I feel… the most when I am with you.”

Despite his words growing softer and softer, you still heard them and your heart leaped in your throat.

Swallowing thickly, you gave him a wobbly smile at his admission and fought to keep the tears at bay as you leaned in to press a quick kiss to his lips, commending him for his bravery and vulnerability when it came to expressing his innermost thoughts. You knew it wasn’t easy for him to do.

“I’m glad.” You sighed, trying not to get too caught up in the moment so that your emotions didn’t run away from you. “And I’m honored you feel that way around me. I will continue to do my best to make you happy.”

This time, Todoroki was the one to frown, his nose twitching in displeasure. 

“You do not need to do anything.” He stated matter-of-factly, tilting his head in confusion. “It is your company, I believe, that makes me feel this way.”

That was an understatement. You elevated his heart and spirit in all the best possible ways. With your encouragement and kind nature, he felt like he had the strength to do anything. Including tough out this quirk incident that was causing a huge inconvenience in everybody’s lives.

Todoroki ducked his head and hid a smile, recalling to mind the time you blurted out in passionate fervor that it was not an inconvenience to anyone, let alone you, when he confessed thinking such to you. 

You really were too kind to him. He was going to make sure you were protected forever and always. 

Nudging your temple softly with his nose, Todoroki purred contentedly as your sweet scent washed over him like the summer breeze. 

“Starfruit and coconut?” He questioned curiously. 

Ever since his temporary transformation, he had been picking up more and more of what you smelled like, and he loved it. But this certain combination was brand new to him.

The tips of your ears burned red and you gnawed on your bottom lip shyly. “Y-Yeah… it’s a new lotion. I liked the scent.”

Todoroki hummed thoughtfully, another throaty purr emitting from his chest as waves lazily crashed upon the shore. His arms tightened around you in silent request and his ears perked up as you repositioned yourself so that your back was flush against his bare chest.

“It smells good.” He finally admitted, glancing down at you.

You shifted in his hold, stretching out your legs and crossing your ankles. “Yeah?”

Todoroki buried his nose into your soft hair and inhaled deeply, eyes fluttering shut as he thought about how lucky he was to have someone like you in his life. How much tragedy and hurt he had to go through, what he had to sacrifice almost to the point of giving up, when he met you.

You were his light, his partner, his everything.

Vibrant turquoise and cloudy grey hues softened imperceptibly as they gazed down at you, his tail coming around to wind around your thigh, clutching it almost possessively. 

“Yeah…” He whispered, allowing his eyes to finally slip shut as the sun got to him, exhaustion washing over him like a tidal wave. 

And you, you sat there in his embrace, ready for whatever this life threw at you next. Because in spite of the hardships, you knew that you could face it together. 

Playing with his fingers, you relaxed against him and wriggled more comfortably into his side. 

“Hey, Shouto,” You murmured under your breath, fully aware that he couldn’t hear you based on the even rise and fall of his chest. “When we get home…”

Hooded eyes darted to the bag you brought with you, honing in on the small cube outline bulging from the pouch on the side. The size of a ring box.

“I have something to ask you.”

Bonus: 

Everyone had worn themselves out. Night had fallen, the ambiance only broken by the occasional remark of the ocean spray as they made themselves known. 

Stars twinkled high in the sky and the group of 22 felt the most at ease that they had been since they assumed positions in society as top pro-heroes. 

Well, all except one.

Bakugou glowered at his boyfriend sitting a couple paces away from him. “Deku, I swear to fucking—”

“Kacchan, shh!!! I’ll never get this opportunity again!!!” Midoriya whisper-shouted at him, furiously scribbling in his hero notebook. 

He glanced up once in a while at your sleeping form draped against Todoroki’s white and red fur. 

He had turned into an actual tiger halfway through the night when everyone else had fallen asleep and Midoriya had no idea if it was because he felt at ease enough that he let go, or if this was another step in the quirk manifesting itself. Either way, it was incredibly interesting and he was jotting down everything he noticed.

Rolling his eyes when his fanboy of a boyfriend didn’t put down his pen, Bakugou tapped his foot impatiently. “Of course the fucking Number One Hero still is hung up over these shitty extras.”

Midoriya squealed excitedly despite the other’s discontented grumbling, clutching his notebook close to his heart. “Kacchan, it’s so cool though!!!”

Bakugou huffed, turning away but that was so he couldn’t see the pinking of his cheeks.

Alright, look, it wasn’t his damn fault the shitty nerd was so fucking cute when he got like this!!

Tugging at his restraints purposefully, Bakugou burned a hole in the back of Midoriya’s head when he refused to look his way.

“Oi, let me out of this shit.” He demanded hotly, trying to blast his way through, only to find out that the ropes were made of some kind of quirk-cancelling material.

Fuck.

“In a minute.” Midoriya babbled, waving him off as he scrambled closer to his slumbering friend to get a better look. “Todoroki-kun is so cool!!”

Bakugou’s eyebrows scrunched together at that and he frowned. “What the fuck, you shitty nerd?!”

Midoriya yelped as a red aura emitted from him. “Eep!!! K-Kacchan?!?!”

“IS THAT A CHALLENGE, DEKU?!?!?!?!”

“N-No, of course it’s not!!!” Midoriya replied desperately, waving his hands to ward him off and hopefully stop him from waking everybody else up.

That hope was diminished as quickly as it came as Bakugou roared. “WAKE THE FUCK UP, ICYHOT!!!!!” 

“I really rather not.” Came the dry reply, catching the both of them off guard.

Bakugou recovered quickly and his expression contorted into fury. “WHAT THE FUCK?!?!”

Midoriya approached him cautiously, hoping to placate him. “K-Kacchan, maybe we should—”

“HAH?!?!” His head whipped around towards him, wrists already chafed from how hard he was yanking against it. “YOU STILL THINK FUCKIN’ HALF-N-HALF IS BETTER THAN ME?!?!”

“I didn’t say that!!!” Midoriya cried out.

Bakugou leaned back against the trunk, vermilion eyes glinting dangerously. Every muscle in his body was coiled and ready to strike. “Get the fuck over here, damn nerd.”

Midoriya’s feet moved before he knew what he was doing until he came to a standstill directly in front of his boyfriend looking at him with an entirely different expression on his face. 

One of mild interest and pure determination.

Bakugou smirked. “I’m gonna make you eat your damn words, Deku.”

His eyes lit up at the implication and he ground his fist into the palm of his hand before untying the bonds. 

“Bring it on, Kacchan.”

.

.

.

“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU TWO DO?!?!” You shrieked, horrified at the sight that greeted you in the morning. 

The two of them were covered head to toe in bruises and scrapes, and absolutely soaked. 

Iida was the most upset. “NO QUIRKS WERE ALLOWED ON THIS VACATION!!!!”

Bakugou stuffed his hands in his pockets and scoffed. “Vacation’s over, Emergency Exit.”

“THAT IS NO LONGER AN APPROPRIATE NICKNAME!!!!” Iida corrected and you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“I can’t believe this.” You mumbled to yourself exasperatedly. “You guys actually sparred all night?!?!”

“L/N-san, it was awesome!!!” Midoriya rambled enthusiastically, the glow in his eyes never faltering even as Iida continued to chew out a bored Bakugou. “Kacchan was so cool!!!”

You sputtered. “This was supposed to be a vacation!!!”

“It was!!” Midoriya insisted with a determined pout and you shook your head.

“You don’t understand the concept of a vacation, hospital boy.”

“Hey!!”

Tokoyami nodded, satisfied as Iida punished Bakugou with a week’s worth of chores despite the fact that none of them lived together anymore. “Vengeance is served.” 

“Anyone got any food?” Hagakure chirped while Mina whined in the corner about how hungry she was.

Kaminari was already rifling through the beach bag you brought with you, fishing out every single piece of food you had left. 

You looked on fondly at them as they handled the food emergency themselves. You were lucky to have friends like these. Ones that could goof off whenever and be as silly as you were, as well as be there when it counted. 

Todoroki tapped you on the shoulder with the tip of his tail, offering up a bagel he had managed to snag before everyone else emptied out the reserves. “Hungry?”

You shot him a thankful look, breaking it in half to share with him before munching on your piece happily. “Very.”

The two of you basked in the momentary peace the sunrise brought as Bakugou argued against Iida that he wasn’t even the one to start the brawl, even though it fell on deaf ears.

You bit back a smile as Todoroki’s tail looped around your waist, pulling you into his side and you laughed lightly. “Is this your way of telling me you want to cuddle some more before we have to go back?”

“Maybe.” He mused, gaze filled with adoration and humor as he fixated his eyes on you.

Todoroki blinked slowly, dipping his head down to draw your head close to his. “Y/N?”

You tilted your face up at his inquiry. “Yes?”

The depth of love in your eyes was reflected in his heart.

“Later today, if you get a chance, stop by my agency.” He requested somewhat timidly and you raised an eyebrow in surprise at the odd desire.

“Yeah… okay, sure.” You affirmed with what you hoped to be a reassuring smile to put him at ease, even though you had no idea what this was all about.

Todoroki chuckled softly at your lost expression. You looked cute when you were trying to figure out what he was thinking. No chance though, you could think about this one all you wanted, you were never going to figure out where he was going with this. 

“There is something I would like to ask you.” He hinted with a mysterious smile, unlocking his grip around your waist to stroll over to Koda and help him pack up the picnic basket.

It took a second for you to process. And then another passed before you realized what he meant.

“W-Wait a minute— Shouto!!!!”

Ringing laughter was all that accompanied your cries and torrent of questions as you asked over and over again if he was insinuating what you thought he was.

In a moment of bravery, he threw you a wink. “You have to wait to find out, Y/N.”

“No fair!!!”

“Patience.”

“UH UH, YOU CAN’T JUST LEAVE A GIRL HANGING LIKE THAT!!!!”

“I don’t see how it’s any different than what you pulled last night.”

“... I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Todoroki shrugged nonchalantly, aiding Iida and Yaoyorozu in packing up the rest of the supplies. “Okay.”

“TODOROKI SHOUTO, GET BACK HERE!!!!”

“Wait six hours, Y/N.”

“SIX HOURS?!?!?!”

Your wailing only made that grin on his face grow. “I could double it.”

You shut your mouth at that ominous threat. Like hell he was going to do that to you. 

Todoroki smiled triumphantly but it only lasted for a second when you glared at him.

“You’re a cruel, cruel man, Todoroki.” You proclaimed dramatically, stumbling back when Kaminari took that opportunity to plop a heavy basket in your arms to make you carry it.

Todoroki’s shoulders shook with laughter at your attempt to catch yourself. You were as clumsy as a newborn deer. “I learn from the best.”

Your eyes glittered with mischief and throwing down the basket, you sprinted over to somewhere behind the rocks, disappearing from sight.

But your voice still carried.

“BAKUGOU, I’M GONNA KILL YOU!!!!!!”

[writer-and-artist27]

A Little Flower and a Count

Inspired by how a Count finally visited my Chaldea this summer, and dedicated to @panyum, @xviicprc, and @partialdignity for loving Dantes and sharing it with me. I still don’t know everything about him yet, more so because I missed out on both the original run of his event and the rerun, but hopefully Da Vinci’s shop this year will let me better understand why people love him so much.

Here’s the song I was listening to while writing this.

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

In a specific room of Novum Chaldea, everyone could hear the tapping of someone’s armored boot.

“Should I do something about Vy’s shadow?” Achilles muttered over a glass of beer, giving Robin Hood a single wary look. “He’s been following her for the past two days.”

“Dunno about that,” Robin returned after rolling a mint leaf over his tongue, chewing on the plant thoughtfully. “Stalker or not, the little sparrow’s noticed him already and she hasn’t said anything to us. I get how you feel, Achilles, but I think she has a plan.”

“Ah, but, but what if something happens~?!” Ereshkigal interrupted with a higher-pitched voice, face flushed enough over her cup of tea to match a human more than the goddess she was supposed to be. “He’s still an Avenger class, Robin! He could easily hurt—”

“We thought that about the dark Jeanne and Gorgon when they first appeared too, Ereshkigal,” Arturia said calmly, taking a careful sip of her own green tea before shaking her head. “But they’ve warmed up to Vy as much as anyone else here. If anything, we’ll be on standby until Vy says the word. Besides,” Arturia smiled at the Goddess, green eyes warm, “it is our Princess. Knowing her, Avenger’s taking his time.”

“I-If you say so…”

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

“You should rest more,” was said from a corner of the kitchen and it took everything in Vy’s power to not squeak out loud. It didn’t stop her from making a little noise from surprise (something along the lines of “WAH!”), and even then, glancing in that direction yielded no recipient of her gaze except for a few wisps of darkness.

“…Avenger?” Vy tried gently, clutching her hands to her chest.

The shadows of the coffee machine was the next thing to show any sign of flicker, but the air had fallen silent again.

Vy blinked, staring at the glass coffee pot in particular before trying one more time. “…Count?”

Sure enough, that did it, with the shadows of the coffee machine itself starting to move and then morph into a human-like shape, exposing a familiar dark hat and white hair.

Vy smiled up at the taller Servant once she could see a glimpse of a yellow eye past the darkness, the surprise in her heart fading in exchange for fond acceptance. “Hi to you too, Count. I am resting a bit, I just need to make something to keep myself awake for the rest of the morning, that’s all.”

Edmond Dantes said nothing in response to her greeting, nodding curtly before walking over to her side, glancing over the kitchen island counter she was originally working at. “Condensed milk?”

“Di Thuy used it when making coffee when I was little,” Vy explained quietly, measuring a few spoons of the dense liquid before gently depositing it into the flower-patterned mug of black coffee sitting near her left hand. Cherry blossoms proceeded to appear on the mug from the heat-exposure, lighting up the white surface with pink blooms as Vy smiled at it. “I can’t remember the entire recipe, but the Vietnamese iced coffee I grew up with always used condensed milk and a bit of hazelnut coffee creamer.” Vy left the serving spoon in the mug to stir at it, watching as the coffee went from black to a soft brown color.

Daddy would’ve liked this a little too bitter…

Instead of voicing that thought, Vy glanced up at the taller Servant. “Do you want a cup too, Count?”

Even with the soft smile Vy was sending his way, Dantes kept his mouth in a thin line, tilting his head at her. “…Leave the condensed milk to the side, Master.”

Vy beamed. “Aye!”

It took a moment for Vy to realize Dantes was staring at her once she turned back to the counter to cap the carton of condensed milk she was using, and turning around only resulted in a large calloused hand reaching up to cup her cheek.

“…Count?”

“Why do you associate with me, I wonder,” Dantes whispered, his thumb stroking Vy’s cheekbone before resting underneath Vy’s left eye past her glasses. Vy closed it almost instinctively, trying not to feel weird at the prodding sensation Dantes was leaving behind while tracing the barely visible bag underneath. “Light and darkness do not mix, Master. You know I can’t be saved like the Edmond Dantes in history.”

Vy leaned into the touch with a smaller smile, shaking her head. “…I know I can’t save you, Count.” Even if admitting that hurts. “But hey. That doesn’t mean I can’t provide you a break. And you reminded me to take a break, Count. The least I can do is do the same for you.”

When looking up into Avenger’s yellow eyes, Dantes merely smirked at her. “You may keep trying, Master. A little flower can only last so long in Hell.”

With a stronger smile, Vy reached up to cup Dantes’ hand that was on her cheek with her own, squeezing softly. “I don’t think it’s Hell if I’m with you,” Vy said honestly. “We’re in Novum Chaldea, Count, and it’s another day. So let’s just have coffee and coexist together, okay?”

[metanetsoftware]

This month, we have a Double Feature! Yes, that's double the Featured levels there usually are! You know what they say, double your pleasure, double your fun -- you'll find it's as true for gum as it is for N++ levels.

Thank you for the submissions, bigblargh, and to everyone who contributed levels (MIJ-JY, AriOnSan, yefffef,  Cainos, Omega, vanjelis, VR456, Sept, sclews, and HamSandwich) and commentary ( HamSandwich, DarkStuff, Your Personal N++ Phobia Specialist, and bigblargh -- and shoutout to frankytrees for his writing last post as well)! It's amazing, every time we think the level design and writing for these Featured levels has reached a high, you all find a way to surpass it. You are incredible.

Here are the levels, from the top screenshot above, to bottom: //////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

silhouette quiz ver.2 by MIJ-JY

"MIJ-JY’s “silhouette quiz ver.2” is the most amazing N machine I have ever seen. I dare you to reverse engineer it. The map starts with a 16-bit pseudo-randomizer that determines the machine’s behavior. Following that is a Don’t Do Anything section that shapes a mass of drones into a silhouette. The ninja drops through one of four columns that each contain four toggle mine silhouettes, and the column that is toggled indicates your set of multiple choice answers. Match the toggle mine silhouette with the drone silhouette vertically using the down-right facing springs. Choose correctly and win, choose incorrectly and die. Now that I’ve explained to you how the map works, can someone please explain to me how this map works!?"

- bigblargh

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

hikkosi by AriOnSan

"In Japanese, "hikkosi'' means "moving." In this level, you move drones from one square to another. This level transcends being a simple proof-of-concept, in which it showcases how to move drones through doors, by the starting room becoming ever more crowded as you move drones from one space to another, and the risk-reward of seeing if you can get away with moving less than all of the drones and still succeeding. The gold at the very end also lends itself to very tight highscoring instead of the level being completely bottlenecked and frame-tied.

But there's more to this level than that. Zoom out your point of view, and look at the shapes. As I see it, these two squares are the heads of two people. A child, on the left, and someone strapped to a gurney on the right. The level, for me, transcended not just its simple mechanics, but its status as merely a level. Here, we see something moving from the presumably hospitalized, larger person's head, into the head of the child. Are these thoughts? Lessons? Memories? I don't know, but somehow, I am leaving this level feeling something. I hope you can feel this something, too."

- DarkStuff

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Short Cut by yefffef

"There's something that's just too fun about finding cheese in a level. It's not malicious, but... it's taboo. You feel like you're doing something wrong and getting away with it. You submit your replay, and maybe you feel the tiniest twinge of guilt... but no. No, not really. If you haven't done it, you're truly missing out. If you want to experience the naughtiness of cheesing a level without actually getting on anyone's nerves, yefffef has you covered. As the name implies, the cheese here is intentional. So hey. Come get a taste. Widen your palate. Cheese a level and see just how good it feels to be bad."

- DarkStuff

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Texture Pacing by Cainos

"It’s a joy to experiment with the various brushes in this digital painting program. Unfortunately, it seems to crash whenever the brushstroke crosses itself. We can only hope that the dev Cainos fixes this ridiculous oversight in the update."

-bigblargh

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Bamboo Forest by Omega

"Honey, this trip isn't as calming as I was expecting it to be, even if it is rather pretty."

- DarkStuff

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Profane Crypt by vanjelis

"A ninja understands that gold is gold. Gold can always be purified, no matter the power of the hex, no matter how tightly clutched by mottled hands of corpses. A ninja cares not for sacrilege or personal insult. Angels, demons, and shamans who shoot crystal arrows across the night sky hold no meaning to those who see only chemicals. Melt it until the impurities burn away. A ninja’s concern is elemental, not of spirit. Gold is gold."

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unsuperhighway by VR456

"Do you want to dodge bullets, like I do? Do you want to jump through strata, like I do? Do you want a short level that challenges your routing abilities, like I do? Do you want to feel like a true ninja, like I do? Maybe you should play through this level every once in a while, just to go fast, just to be the car travelling down the unsuperhighway, carrying the microchip cargo you know you can't let those cyberpunk mobsters take back. Just every once in a while. Like I do."

- DarkStuff

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i <3 chasers by Sept

“GRIPPED BY FEAR? PARALYZED BY ANXIETY? DO YOU FEEL LIKE YOU ARE BEING FOLLOWED? THERE IS A PERMANENT SOLUTION! CONGRATULATIONS, YOUR EXPOSURE THERAPY BEGINS NOW!!!”

- Your Personal N++ Phobia Specialist

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simplerocket [T++G--] by sclews

"It is, as its name implies, simple. Yet sometimes, simplicity is the soul of wit. Er, brevity is the soul of wit. Which also follows because it is brief. Look, what I'm trying to say is that this level is fun as hell! Sclews has made a small, short, simple environment in which the rocket at the center of everything is always and forever on your tail, preventing your ascent, preventing your descent, preventing your gold collection, preventing your door key collection, preventing whatever it dang well pleases. It's annoying in exactly the way I like it."

- DarkStuff

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str10 - Earthquake by HamSandwich

"HamSandwich strikes again with a wonderful artsy level. As usual, Ham keeps their entity palette and tile palette consistent, bringing a feeling of theme throughout. And that theme is the world crashing down! The archways evoke a broken, tumbling building which we have to go into to salvage some unknown treasure before escaping the scene and (hopefully) surviving the natural disaster. Floorguards may be stand-ins for screaming, panicking civilians, or perhaps represent the fact that you can't trust the shaking ground beneath your feet. Two open gatling drone chambers on either side of the building add a nice contrast to the cramped indoors, and the tiles are aligned perfectly for satisfying gold collection and tight jumps around gausses."

- DarkStuff

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Want to play these levels? Awesome! All levels can be played from all platforms.

First, get N++: Nintendo Switch: https://www.nintendo.com/en_CA/games/detail/n-plus-plus-switch Xbox One: https://www.microsoft.com/en-CA/store/p/N-/BT33CHSSB89V Steam: http://store.steampowered.com/app/230270 PS4: https://store.playstation.com/#!/en-us/games/n-plus-plus-(n)/cid=UP2108-CUSA00041_00-NPPGAMENPPGAMENP Kartridge: https://www.kartridge.com/games/MetanetSoftware/n-nplusplus

Then from the Main Menu, just go to Browse, and choose the “Featured” tab. So easy! Of course the levels probably aren’t ;)

Want to suggest levels to feature, to make your own levels, or to enter design contests?

Join the excellent community on discord: http://discord.gg/nplusplus #nplusplus#level-design#community-made levels#gamedev

[grimogretricks]

MAG 188: creator/audience boundaries and the fear of the public eye

Spoilers, though not in detail, with meta commentary

 As someone with social anxiety, I was fearful of an episode whose theme was something like 'the city where everyone hates you'. Also known as: my feelings and experiences from ages 14-21.  

 But thematically, especially with the debate about creator/fandom/ boundary crossing going on in the TMA fandom right now, it actually didn't strike right at the heart of my fear there, for one very important reason.

 It seemed rather specific to the situation of being someone with some degree of fame, placed in the public eye, open to public judgement.

 Everyone knew the subject of this episode, she lived her life, now, in public, whether she wanted to or not, every part of her life was scrutinised and subject to public comment and mockery. There was an implication there, that her life, and her reactions to others, mattered to these other people in a way that's different from mere anonymous hatred.  I read in this, absolutely, an expression of a creator's anxieties and worries surrounding new found fame.

 I remember how Jonny glibly responded that he was 'terrified' when asked what he felt about TMA's popularity, and this, I really think, whether consciously or not, was an expression of that terror of being a creator with an audience.

 The terror that you'll transgress, that you'll disappoint, that the eyes will turn from looking at you hopefully to looking at you with derision, that the demands made on your time, on your exposure of your personal life and opinions, will become overwhelming and insatiable.

 I almost couldn't really concentrate on the rest of the episode for thinking about that meta aspect. But in any case, I liked the set up of the modern London of today, in the eye's domain, it felt appropriate as a stage for an inevitable showdown.

[probably-not-star-lord]

More Than a Mission: Part 1 (Steve Rogers x Reader)

A/N: I’m so excited about this series!! Prepare yourself for so much fluff and unexpected smut. Also, I really got super in-depth about the mission for this fic without knowing if any of it sounds even remotely professional. I apologize if it makes zero sense lmao.

Request: Hello, it’s me Stark again😅 I was wondering if you could do an Imagine with Steve Rogers and it’s fluff with the cliche prompt of you both have to share a bed together on a mission cause Tony “accidentally” ordered the “wrong” room for you guys on the trip everyone was going on 💛

Request: Can you write a fanfic about Steve Rogers x reader because I need it, fluff, smut and whatever you want! xx

Summary: Being an Avenger means following through with a mission no matter what the circumstances are. In this case, thanks to Tony Stark, the most ridiculous circumstance of this mission is pretending to be in love with the one and only Captain America. However, is being in love with Steve really just pretend?

Warnings: swearing, fluff, mentions of drinking

-

Steve Rogers is intoxicating.

Ever since the day you became an Avenger you’ve been addicted to him. You drink in every sip of his kindly attractiveness and his Captain America physique. His muscles nearly rip his shirts to shreds, his piercing blue eyes can make you shudder, and his perfect smile lights up every single room he enters. He’s an adonis. Then, of course, he has this gentlemanly charm that illuminates off of him whenever he speaks and you can never take in enough of his words. A simple interaction will lead to the man living in your thoughts and dreams for hours on end. You push your desires down, so far down that you force yourself to view Steve as nothing more than a colleague, a co-worker, your boss. Yet, no matter how hard you try, he continues to stay on your mind. He’s intruding like that.

However, your relationship with Steve has always been serious, professional. There are rare occasions where the two of you train together, sparring aggressively until he inevitably wins. He pins you down on the mat at the conclusion of each session, staring into your eyes with a dominant gaze and beads of sweat dripping down the sides of his face. On the unlikely chance that you conquer the Captain during training, you’re the one pinning him to the floor. Your thighs straddle his large frame as you breathe heavily, letting yourself exhale as you accept your victory. Steve’s clear satisfaction with your win causes him to form this sweet smirk of his that makes your head dizzy. It makes working out impossible. This means you often spar with Natasha, who basically taught you everything you know anyway. She is the only person you’ve spoken to about your secret fascination with Steve, so she allows the intrusion of you begging her to spar when Captain America is filling up the gym with his utter perfection.

You try so hard to repress whatever feelings you have for Steve. When he gives orders during missions you almost always do as you’re told, attempting a thought that is anything other than Captain America in his suit commanding you in the bedroom as well as on the battlefield. If you decide to ignore his orders, the two of you will have it out with each other. Steve always remains calm with his words but can lose his temper and raise his tone of force from simply authoritative to echoing with frustration. You never fail to snap back at him, your feelings subsiding and your stubbornness taking control. There is pointing and groaning and getting into each other’s faces with a distinct tension that Natasha likes to label as sexual. You would prefer not to think of it as such.

Steve is your boss, after all, and outside of the sparring or the fighting he is nothing but sweet in a very professional manner. There has never been a hint of romance as far as you can tell, but there tends to be a sort of nervousness that finds Steve when the two of you are together. It boosts your confidence. He greets you every morning in the kitchen of Avenger’s Tower as the two of you drink coffee and eat breakfast with casual small talk. At all of Tony’s parties Steve will compliment you and offer you a drink, spending the night engaging in conversation that could only ever be between two colleagues. It’s always been that way, no matter how badly your heart wants more. 

The conference room feels stuffy as your thoughts consume you. It remains a struggle to remove Steve from your brain as he currently sits beside you, arms crossed and eyebrows creased as he listens to Tony. Your dear friend speaks to all of the Avengers in the room about an upcoming mission as you clearly focus elsewhere. Yet, a compelling task with the mention of you and the man in your fantasies quickly draws your attention.

“We have to do what?”

You and Steve speak at the same time, staring dumbfounded at Tony. The idea is crass and in all honesty, it makes you uncomfortable. These concepts are reserved for your daydreams, not a very real mission.

“Come on,” Tony retorts. “All I’m asking is that the two of you pretend to be a couple. Dance. Flirt a little bit. Maybe even hold hands. It’s not that complicated.”

Steve exhales loudly and turns to you. “Y/N, are you comfortable with this?”

“I am if you are, Captain,” you respond, casually shrugging with the effort to emit no sense of shock. Steve looks to the floor and chuckles nervously. Clearly, calling Steve by his authoritative name does things to him. Things that shouldn’t be mentioned in the workplace.

“Well, then, it’s settled.” Tony claps his hands together and makes his way over to the front of the board room, furthering the meeting. “Capsicle will finally thaw out of the ice and learn how to flirt with a girl. Maybe, if we’re lucky, he’ll do more than just flirt with Y/N.”

“Tony,” Steve addresses him in his Captain America voice, a stern look on his face as his hands form fists on top of the conference table. “That isn’t exactly appropriate.”

“Who said it had to be?”

Steve furrows his eyebrows at Tony, knuckles turning white from how hard he is clenching his fists. But, his face is a deep shade of crimson and the whole room can see it. As Tony takes a step back in defense, rolling his eyes and continuing with the plan, you smile to yourself in hopes to relieve Steve’s obvious tension. He laughs quietly, calming his own nerves. It catches your attention and the two of you make eye contact, only for a mere second. The awkwardness of the entire situation forces the both of you to look away.

The meeting with everyone lasts for several hours as Tony explains the threat of the mission. This time, he has all of your attention. There is a group trying to infiltrate large, Manhattan corporations through the computer systems, attempting to steal billions of dollars and any information that could be valuable to shut those businesses down. The leader, Henry Red, used to work for Tony. He was fired for leaking crucial documents. It wasn’t discovered until later that it was on purpose. Red has always had the same plan. He wants to take down Tony and any corporations similar to Stark Industries just so his own business can thrive. Obviously, this includes Stark Industries and quite possibly SHIELD or Avengers Assemble.

Red could have easily been taken down by Tony, Bruce, and maybe even SHIELD agents who are simply just good with technology. But, he isn’t working alone. Tony goes on to disclose to everyone during the meeting that Red is much more powerful than he had previously believed. He has several police officers, detectives, and even agents within Avengers Tower all working for him. These are all people being paid off to remain loyal to him, being very discreet about their private affairs. This means you can’t trust anyone but the people confined within the conference room at this exact moment. Tony warns that his threat is not only public exposure and robbery, but Henry Red is a man who is also willing to kill, as he has done numerous times in the past. Luckily, going undercover, none of you will let that happen.

“So, where are we going, Tony? His evil lair?”

He points at you. “Now is not the time for sarcasm.”

“That’s interesting coming from you,” you acknowledge, earning a laugh from the room. “But, seriously, where the hell are we going?”

“I’m sending Romanaff, Wilson, and Barnes along with you and Cap to an event being thrown by Red himself. It won’t be as extravagant as the parties I throw, of course, but it will be busy, fancy, and crowded. You’ll be overseas and Red has never been up close and personal with any of you, so I’m hoping you’ll be unrecognizable. I want to make it believable that all of you are on Red’s side, not trying to take him down. I’ll also make sure your clothing is taken care of so you can dress up and fit in with the environment.”

“Does that mean I get to wear an expensive dress and high heels?” Tony nods at your question. Your mind fills with images of you dressed up in an elegant gown and heels standing beside Steve in an expensive suit, posing to be his lover. “Will you be paying for all of this?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Who else would be paying for it?”

“When’s this event taking place?” Nat chimes in.

Tony reviews some notes that lay on the conference table. “It looks like Red is throwing the shindig on Saturday night. However, I’m sending all of you ASAP. That way you can get some rest, settle in, and hopefully survey the area.”

“One more question,” you assert. “Will there be booze at this party?”

“Of course,” he responds. “I encourage you and Steve to drink socially, in order to appear like you belong and not draw any attention. But no getting drunk, I need you to be on high alert. I’m looking at you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” You brush him off. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll make sure to keep an eye on her,” Steve assures, sending you a warm smile that makes your heart melt. Of course the golden boy himself makes a gesture of protection. You’re no damsel in distress, even Steve knows that, but having an attractive super soldier by your side can’t be all that bad.

Tony continues devising the plan. He goes on to tell you that Henry Red is currently based in Germany. He likes to hide out, get away from New York. This way he is unsuspected when his goons commit mass murders, killing those who are a threat to his heist. Wherever Henry Red is located, that’s where you and most of the team are being sent. Natasha is the lookout, lurking in places within the event to keep a close eye on any possible threats. Tony debated calling Hawkeye to help Natasha and keep her in check, but he chose to let Clint stay home with his family. Thor would be useful in this situation in case things get out of hand, but he’s currently off world. Bucky and Sam are going to watch the action of the party, posing as bodyguards and checking who goes in and who goes out. This is to keep track of those who are working for Red. Every person under his radar will be sure to make an appearance at this event. No one wants to be around when the hacking and the destroying of the companies is set to take place. That is why Tony decides Bruce and himself will keep a hold on Avengers Tower, locking in the computer system while monitoring the technology of other businesses. But, it all starts at the source. That’s where you and Steve come in.

Tony informs the two of you that you will be the only Avengers not in constant communication with the rest. It is dire for the others to always be reporting updates back to Tony and Bruce, surveying the scene and giving a run down to make sure no one is leaving the event and interrupting the process of protecting the computer system and technology. When Tony and Bruce complete the necessary arrangements to preserve the information at SHIELD, Avengers Assemble, and Stark Industries, they will have to let everyone else know right away. That’s when the cover will be blown so Nat, Bucky, and Sam can take down anyone suspected to be working with Red. Tony says that if you and Steve are always talking into the comms, suspicion will arise and the entire operation could be blown. The goal is to make sure Red is in your sight at all times, and if possible, you have to distract him from checking up on his plan. That should give Tony and Bruce enough time to protect the other systems while also hacking into his. After that is complete, you’ll have to take Red down and turn him over to the custody of the other agents that Tony will send to the event later on.

“We get in. We get Red. We get out,” Steve announces. “Got it.”

Tony sighs. “You are only allowed to get Red and get out of there on my signal. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, Cap and I can handle it,” you inform him, putting him at ease.

“Make sure you’re always watching him,” Tony says seriously. Then a sly grin forms on his lips. “But have a little fun, too. Act like a real couple. Red and everyone else at the party needs to buy it.”

“I’m sure it won’t be a hard act to sell,” Sam blurts, his eyes focusing between you and Steve.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” you question.

“Nothing.” Sam winks at Steve then nudges Bucky. He chuckles. Steve isn’t amused and neither are you.

“I agree,” Tony admits, ignoring your and Steve’s reactions. “But just in case the two of you pussy out of this, I need your word that you can really sell it. We can’t have all hell break loose just because the old man doesn’t know how to act around Y/N.”

“We’ll do our best, Tony,” Steve affirms, entirely dodging Tony’s insult.

You place a hand delicately on Steve’s arm, feeling him tense up a little under your kind touch. “Please, we’ve totally got this. Right, Captain?”

“Right.”

Part Two: Here

A/N: It’s been so long since I wrote this original fic that I rewrote it with some minor changes. The premise and plot is remaining the same so if you originally read this fic when I first wrote it ages ago and are wondering why I posted a new one, please stick around because I am continuing it after I update the old chapters. I kept the tag lists the same but let me know if you’d like me to update anything with the tags! I hope you all enjoy!

permanent tag list: @lolabean1998 @thisismysecrethappyplace @crazystarlady @gloomybisexualemo @yougottalovefandoms  @emilymarie0422​

series tag list: @dressed-up-just-like-z1ggy​ @buginkt​ @innerthingstudentblr​ @a-study-in-letters​ @noisyinfluencerstrawberry​ @thecraziestcrayon​ @rhiannon-the-troublemaker​

[sirloozelite]

Galaxy-8: The Annual Medical Report

(Galaxy-8 makes no logical sense and everything is insanely wrong and twisted and weird. This AU exists solely for the LOLZ and is not to be taken seriously whatsoever. Enjoy the humour! XD)

Scene: Admiral Thrawn and General Tano’s Venator Star Destroyer. In orbit above Naboo. Clone Medic Kix has gathered the entire crew in the mess hall for his annual crew health checkup results. He likes to share them rather than keep them confidential in an attempt to encourage crew interaction and friendship. Naturally, things tend to get a bit embarrassing and personal.

Kix: Ok everyone. Thank you all for coming at short notice, but Coric and I have finally finished our report on crew health.

Jesse: Oh good. Time for a boring long winded explanation.

Kix: Since you want to be cocky and arsey Jesse, lets cover you first shall we?

Jesse: 0_0   Oh poodoo!

Kix: I’m pleased to report that aside from that stubbed toe of your you are a fine bill of health. Well done.

Jesse: Oh! Cool. Thanks Kix.

Ahsoka: You stubbed your toe? How’d you manage that?!

Jesse: Turned a corner in a hallway and ran into an astromech.

Hardcase: Pfftt... loser!

Jesse: :(

Kix: Captain Cody?

Cody: Yes Kix?

Kix: That cold you had the other day was nothing to worry about. Merely exposure to foreign bacteria. Your immune system should have built a defense against it in the future.

Cody: Yay!

Kix: Yay indeed. Admiral Thrawn?

Thrawn: Yes?

Kix: Your stock of anti-depressants are back in. Please come see me when you have a chance.

Thrawn: Thank you. I will.

Ahsoka: Anti-depressants? Thrawn? You ok buddy?

Thrawn: .... I am fine thank you.

Ahsoka: -_-

Kix: As for the rest of you, I am pleased to announce a clean bill of health. This legion is fit for duty 100%.

Everyone: (Cheers)

Kix: ... that is except for ARC Trooper Hardcase and General Tano.

Hardcase and Ahsoka: Huh!?

Cody: (smirks at Ridge) Time for revenge!

Ridge: (smirks at Cody) Long have we waited for this!

Ahsoka: Kix?! What’s wrong with us?

Hardcase: Yeah! Don’t keep us in suspense!

Kix: Well... you see... the thing is.... you are infected.

Hardcase: Infected?!

Ahsoka: By what?!?!

Kix: Well... let me put it this way you idiots! Remember the last time we all went to 79′s together, and how the two of you might have spent the night with a pair of exotic dancers?

Ahsoka: Um... yeah?

Harcase: ... oh no... your not saying what I think you are saying... are you?

Cody and Ridge: XD

Kix: Afraid so. General... ARC Trooper... I’m afraid you have both contracted an STD.

Ahsoka and Hardcase: 0_0

Everyone else: (gasps of shock and horror)

Thrawn: .... fascinating. What sort?

Ahsoka: Dude ewww!!

Kix: A bad one... one that will require delicate treatment for Hardcase.

Hardcase: Wha... what sort of treatment?

Kix: I hate to say it Hardcase, but I’m afraid the only course of action to remove the STD is to remove your reproductive organs. Please report to my medical surgery tomorrow so Coric and I can operate.

Hardcase: Remove... remove my.... 0_0

Fives: Ha! Hardcase is being neutered!

Hardcase: NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  (runs out of the mess hall crying in fear)

Everyone else: 0_0

Ahsoka: What about me Kix? What are you going to do to me?

Kix: Well General... the good news is that your biology is a lot more resilient compared to humans. I can give you a powerful drug that should wash the STD out of your system eventually, however there is some bad news.

Ahsoka: What’s that?

Kix: In order for this drug to be effective, you will need to refrain from sexual activity for several months, possibly even a year. Otherwise your health will deteriorate rapidly.

Ahsoka: 0_0

Kix: ... General?

Ahsoka: I.... I... I need to call someone. (gets up and slowly leaves the mess hall)

Kix: ...

Everyone else: ...

Cody: XD

Ridge: ... do you think they bought it Kix?

Kix: Absolutely. Hopefully that’ll teach them both a lesson or two!

Cody: Nice work Kix! I owe you a beer!

Kix: You owe me several Sir.

Fives: ... wait... was that a prank? Do they not have an STD after all?

Kix: Nope. Cody and Ridge wanted to scare them, so I came up with this as an idea. I think it worked.

Fives: 0_0   Remind me to never piss the three of you off again!

Kix: Noted.

Fives: ... we are gonna tell them it was a prank though right? Hardcase isn’t really getting neutered... is he?

Kix: Nah. We’ll tell them in the morning, Gives them a night to reflect and regret.

Cody: About time they did.

Ridge: Ahhhhhh... revenge never tasted so sweet!

[azwriting]

The First Sleepover (The Writer and The Photographer, Harry Holland x Reader) - Chapter Six

Hi everyone, here’s chapter six! I hope you enjoy! If you haven’t watched the Phantom of the Opera, I recommend. it’s on Netflix in the U.S. so I apologize if it’s not in the UK and we can ignore my error. Also the girlfriend I reference for Tom, is not based off of any of the rumor girls he’s dating, just merely a subplot for the story. Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! 

Summary: Tom returns home from filming and somehow Harry ends up in (Y/N)’s bed.

Warning(s): Sexual Tension, Sexual References (Not really), Phantom of the Opera spoilers(?)

Word Count: 1505

It was a good idea at the time, moving into the empty bedroom in Tom and Harrison’s flat. Harry had made the decision when they were both away filming and the flat was silent apart for himself and occasionally Tessa. But now Tom was back and Harry needed to get out of the flat before he lost his mind.

(Y/N) was propped up in bed, scrolling through the countless options on Netflix. She was not sure what to watch, even more unsure of how long she would be awake. Not with the thunderstorm outside lulling her into a state of tranquility. Settling on one of her all time favorites the young writer selected The Phantom of the Opera. (Y/N) had seen the musical multiple times in the U.S., but she always had a soft spot for the 2004 movie. It was after all her first exposure to the hauntingly beautiful music and not many five year old’s were attending broadway musicals. She clicked play and watched as the company logos played by, the eery candle lighting to display the title of the movie. As the title zoomed in to reveal the worn black and white postcard showcasing Paris in 1919, her phone let out a loud chime. (Y/N) raked her hands through her purple comforter searching for her phone, finding it by her thigh. She tore her eyes from the screen to see what notification was, a text message from someone who made her heart swell.

(Y/N)’s eyebrows furrowed as she texted back, “Yes?” Her phone buzzed immediately as Harry responded. “Can you get the front door?” Confused, (Y/N) paused her movie, jumped out of bed, and rushed down the poorly lit staircase, only almost tripping once. She unlocked the deadbolt and wrenched open the door to find a sight that made her giggle. Harry stood under the door roof, attempting to avoid the pouring rain, in a pair of grey sweatpants, a maroon hoodie, and his circular glasses perched on top of his reddened cheeks. (Y/N) could not judge, wouldn’t think of it either, as she was in her matching Star Wars pajamas and her thick square glasses. 

“Harry what’s wrong?” It was not that she minded his company, not at all, but it was midnight. 

“Um…” Harry scratched the back of his head awkwardly, trying to find the words to say. “Tom just got back from filming this afternoon and his girlfriend is over and…” Harry trailed off, his cheeks turning even redder. (Y/N) looked at him confused for a moment before a light bulb seemed to go off.

 Her eyes widened in realization at what he was inferring to, “OH! W-Well you can stay here for the night, come in!” She quickly ushered him inside and out of the rain. Harry let out a sigh of relief as he stepped inside the dry establishment, quickly kicking off his squeaky shoes. 

“Thank you, I couldn’t stay there a minute longer!” (Y/N) let out a quiet laugh as the twins were most likely asleep upstairs. 

“It’s no problem, really.” The Ginger began to move down the hall towards the living room, but (Y/N) quickly plucked the hood of his sweatshirt, halting him in his movements. “Where are you going?” H

arry turned in her grasp to look at her puzzled, “The couch?” (Y/N) giggled as she shook her head, was he insane? 

“No way, come on!” She nodded her head towards the stairs before she quickly bounced back up the stairs. Harry stood frozen for a minute, watching her zoom back up the stairs. Was she suggesting what he thought she was? “Harry!” Her voice shouted quietly down the stairs. He gulped nervously before following after.

Upstairs Harry entered the first door on his right finding (Y/N) already snuggled back into bed, patting the empty space beside her. He slowly closed her white door behind him and walked around the bed frame to the other side of the bed. (Y/N) watched as he awkwardly slid into bed next to her and pulled the comforter up to his shoulders. His head looking like nothing more than just a floating sea of curls. She snickered lightly as he continued to shift in her bed, trying to find a comfortable position. 

(Y/N) could feel his warm soaking through the comforter, warming her, as his hand accidentally grazed across hers beneath the covers. They both evaded each other’s eyes as their faces were painted a bright pink. This was the closest either of them had been to each other, ever. They were silent for a moment longer as they waited for the awkwardness to fade. Harry finally broke the silence, “What are you watching?” 

(Y/N) perked at that, “The Phantom of the Opera!” Harry nodded, a look of surprise on his look. 

“I’ve never seen it.” 

“WHAT?” (Y/N) slapped a hand over her mouth, her outburst hopefully not waking the twins. Harry only shrugged innocently, the tension between the two melting. She scoffed and grabbed her remote, “Well buckle up babe, you’re in for a treat!”

Throughout the movie, (Y/N) commented on certain elements of the movie and music, describing to Harry the use of imagery and symbolism hidden in the two hour and twenty minute movie.

“You see when Raoul asks if she’s fonder of ‘dolls, or goblins, or shoes’ it’s actually a reference to the decision Christine ultimately has to make between the dashing Raoul, the disfigured Phantom, or her singing career.”

“You’ll see that throughout most of the film, they keep the Phantom and Christine in opposite colors. Like Christine in white and the Phantom in black, or her in pink and him in red. The Musical doesn’t do this really so I always liked this little touch in the movie. They’re literally yin and yang.”

“Now when Christine chooses Raoul, I find that it’s her picking her childhood innocence and security, where as the Phantom was this darker, lustier love that was all consuming and not particularly right either. He is crazy so I see why she doesn’t pick him but…. What do you think?”

“I could literally write a thesis paper on all the symbolism in this movie!”

Harry was impressed, listening to all the little notes and comments that came out of (Y/N)’s mouth. He was intrigued by her interpretation of the movie and lyrics. He was also concerned with how many times she had watched the film and musical… not to mention how many times she listened to the album. He watched her more than the movie, watched as she mouthed along to the lyrics, twiddled around with her fingers as if she was playing an invisible instrument. He watched as her eyes watered observing the Phantom’s heartbreak on the rooftop as he watched Christine happy with her childhood sweetheart, the images reflecting onto her thick glasses. 

“I don’t know how I lived without you for so long.” The words that slipped from his mouth were no louder than a whisper, but (Y/N) heard them nonetheless. She turned and tilted her head up to look at him, a deep blush spreading across her cheeks. Their faces were close, their warm breath mixing in the small space in between them. 

“I’m not sure how I did either…” Harry’s eyes flickered down to her soft inviting lips as (Y/N)’s eyes did the same. Oh how the scales were tipping. Harry leaned in hovering just above her lips. Tipping, tipping, tipping…

“You will curse the day you did not do all that the Phantom asked of you!” Gerald Butler’s voice bellowed out loudly causing both of them to jump back startled, slipping out of the intoxicating presence of one another. The two eyed each other warily, unsure what to do. The amount of blood rushing to their faces in one day had to be concerning. 

“So um… w-who’s t-this old man again?” Harry pointed to the screen trying to distract from the fact that they almost kissed. His heart was showing no sign of slowing down though…

The next hour of the movie seemed to fly by, Harry and (Y/N)’s eyes growing heavy as they continued to shift lower and lower into the mass of pillows. Her head now rested on top of Harry’s chest as they struggled to keep their eyes open during the finale. “It’s just so sad,” (Y/N) yawned, “He loved her so much and now he’s all alone.” Harry only nodded, eyes closed, fingers twirling a small piece of (Y/N)’s hair. He wasn’t sure if it was the sleep depravity, the fact they almost kissed, her intoxicating presence, or just all his pent up emotions that made him finally speak his mind. 

“Go out with me?” (Y/N) hummed softly, sleep overcoming them both as the credits began to roll. “Hmmm, of course.”

As the morning sun began to stream into the bedroom the next morning, (Y/N) and Harry woke up in each other’s embrace, goofy excited smiles on both their faces. All thanks to Tom and his girlfriend’s extracurricular activities…

Taglist:

@aloneinherroom​

@ineedabifriend​

@with-my-soul-and-heart​

[cloudbattrolls]

No Fit State

Etuuya Vannyn | Temasek Spaceport | Present Night

Imperial ships thrum and crackle, the psiionic energy powering them occasionally throwing off sparks. They’re sleek things, red and black and gray for the most part, swarming the landing pad in all their myriad shapes and sizes. The shouts of air traffic controllers and psiionic taxi drivers fill the air, and the vendors’ sizzling grub kabobs would probably be tempting if you could eat them.

In such a public place, normally you’d have your face concealed - but among so many imperials, you’d simply attract more suspicion. Presenting as an unremarkable jade is better - you turn a head or two, but people’s eyes drift onwards to the bustling activity soon enough.

Temasek’s always been this way. It’s consistent, you suppose, if nothing else.

Did Lettie come from here? Or was she assigned without a choice? You didn’t get much out of Palana, but Lettie always seemed sharper. She drank in every word of Uunive’s stories, and when you were bored and played cards or games with them, she tended to be the best match for you.

The crowd moves swiftly on the paved walkways, trolls either running to or from ships, couriers hauling packages with the assistance of lusii. It’s not long before you’re standing at the entrance to a building that’s as much biowire and framing as it is metal.

You buzz the intercom, and a voice sharply asks you for identification. No crackle or distortion, and the buttons feel warm to the touch - biotech, with capabilities you can only guess at. Hopefully blood temperature detection isn’t one of them.

Holding up your ID for scanning, you really hope Karina knew what she was doing when she gave you this alibi.

The voice recites your fake name with boredom, and then allows you through, doors sliding apart to admit you.

You have to force yourself not to walk cautiously - it would be a dead giveaway. Instead you adopt the casual but purposeful pace of a troll with an appointment, eyes drifting around the halls but ultimately facing forward.

“No - really? Is that how they run the church here now? What an embarrassment...”

There’s almost nowhere to hide, but you dart behind a column of pink wire and spun metal.

Lettie and a tealblood walk past, laughing together. She has new glasses now. You replaced them when they wore out, and it hasn’t been so long that they’ve worn again, has it? Or did her old pair break?

You’re so still they don’t notice you even when they pass your side of the column, absorbed in their conversation as they are. It’s not merely polite talk or work discussion either - the teal asks after her pet gnawbeasts (you didn’t know she liked gnawbeasts), her hovercycle (well, you couldn’t have known that), and her writing tutorials on grub tube that are apparently quite popular.

You smile in relief; of course, she always liked reading Uunive’s stories. It makes sense she’d write her own. You did know her.

The teal gets a call and leaves, promising Lettie they’ll have lunch tomorrow. You step toward her -

- and she draws a gun pointed right at you.

“This is a fleet-issue laser.” She says, quiet and serious as her eyes drill into yours. “I bet it’d give even you something to think about.”

You raise your hands in the air, not that that means anything coming from you. She seems to know that, her expression hardening further.

“I see you got my message.”

Her lip curls.

“Follow me.”

The halls are empty of other trolls, dotted only with the occasional plant or column. The sound of footsteps is the only noise.

As she unlocks a door and lets you in, you see notebooks and pencils and pens sprawled everywhere in an orderly sort of disorder; there’s obviously some kind of system allowing for only mildly precarious walking and sitting. A mug of tea rests on a coaster, with words on it reading ‘Until it’s half empty, don’t talk to me.’

“What do you want? I have work to do.”

“Uunive misses you.” You reply, quiet. Your hands clasp together, and you try to hold your ears still. 

Lettie snatches a piece of paper from a nearby notepad hanging off a lamp and scribbles what you assume is contact info down, then places it within your reach. With a careful, slow hand, you put it in your sylladex.

“She can use that handle. Now leave.”

You pause, not wanting to argue, but at the same time, is this really it? 

“I saw Palana recently.”

Lettie inhales sharply, putting two fingers to the bridge of her glasses. The gun’s still gripped firmly in her other hand.

“Go, Tuuya. If I wanted to talk to Palana, not that it’s any of your business, I’d do it myself. Just get out.”

You blink, genuinely taken aback.

“Don’t you miss her? Or the others?”

Lettie slams the gun down and swings to face you, her yellow eyes tinged with orange.

“Are you trying to be friendly?” She says, voice low and deathly cold. “Are you trying to pretend you didn’t steal over a hundred and fifty sweeps of my life? I have descendants who hatched and died when I was stuck down there. I had a moirail who was culled weeks before I was in a state to see her, and they said she’d been plotting treason. Why? I’ll never know.”

She takes a breath, exhaling hard.

“Everyone thought I was dead. Everyone wanted to know why I could barely speak for myself, would lose time staring into space because I was waiting for a voice in my head that had gone.”

Her gaze pierces you dead in the eye. You can’t speak. Can’t even move.

“You know, I thought of calling the Empire when you messaged me. When they explained what had happened, I didn’t believe it at first. It seemed too insane. But it was the only way to explain it all, and they showed me the dead worm they cut out of my thinkpan. That did it.”

“Why didn’t you?” Your voice is hardly a whisper.

Lettie’s laughter has no humor in it.

“Because they’d keep you alive until they made replacements.”

You open your mouth to ask a question, but she’s there before you.

“Just killing you isn’t going to make up for those endless sweeps of half-life, stumbling along as your puppet. You can only die once, and that’s not even close to as many times needed to be fair.”

“You want to torture me?” You ask, unsure. 

The jade looks at you with such disdain you want to hide from her eyes, coward that you are.

“Torture you? Can you even feel pain? No. I want you to go through what I was forced into. I hope you live a nice, long life and lose everything before you die. Starting with Uunive, if she hasn’t left you already.”

“Please - ” you burst out. “Not her - please, she never knew anything - "

“Stop begging.” Lettie snaps. “It’s pathetic. I’m not going to hurt her.”

“She hasn’t left me.” You mumble, voice laden with shame. 

Lettie’s smile is sharp. Full of hate.

“So you’re still lying to her.”

“No! I told her everything, only a few perigees ago. She never knew before then. She’s innocent.” 

Whatever Lettie wants, she can’t hurt Uunive. Never Uunive. You’ll do anything.

“Then she really needs her auntie to guide her, doesn’t she?” Lettie’s tongue clicks in sympathy, just like it did when Uunive showed her a bruise as a child. “Poor girl never had a lusus. But she liked Palana and I best, so maybe it is worth calling her up.”

No. Uunive never had a lusus, did she. 

“Palana would love to hear from you.” You say quietly. 

“I’m sure. Now leave.” 

She picks up the gun again and points it at you.

You waste no time walking out. 

—

You sit and watch the ships come and go until the sun rises, and then you stay out even in its blinding rays, soaking its heat into your bones. Troll flesh, even a jade’s, burns after too much exposure.

Not you.

What can you do? What sort of amends can you make that wouldn’t be hollow and worthless? Lettie doesn’t want anything from you, because she’s far cleverer than poor Palana. Because she threw off your manipulations and lies and sees you for what you really are.

You bless her for it. For giving you the courage to realize what has to be done for Uunive’s sake, and for going out with any sense of decency. 

Humming, you ponder how long it will take to get to Firebird, how much weaponry you can reasonably cram in your ship.

No matter what happens, at least one monster will die. One fewer to make people suffer. 

Isn’t that wonderful?

[firebirdsdaughter]

Random Writing Tidbit This is Bad…

… New discovery. If you try to edit a ‘read more’ post on mobile? Tumblr erases the whole post.

Okay. Let’s try this again. I still blame this on @thornstone8773 for giving me the idea.

This partially heavily based on a scene from Killjoys. Yes, I am still thinking about Killjoys.

This is set in the ‘human Jin raised by HumaGear Horobi’ AU, and deals w/ after the end, so I kinda inserted general, hazy epilogues for everyone:

In this version, Thouser was the big bad, so after they took him down, Yua took over ZAIA. Fuwa started working w/ Aruto as part of Hiden’s security (partially bc of a comment I saw about him becoming Aruto’s bodyguard and it stuck). Aruto keeps running Hiden Intelligence. Jin and Horobi kinda help him out/are both in rehab/are under his supervision. The promise Horobi mentions later in this essentially boils down to ‘stop trying to cause human extinction/killing humans = BAD.’

You know, the usual.

This comes across as pretty sad… Kinda. Maybe it is.

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

For a while after, things were difficult.

He found himself answering the same questions over and over, weathering the same suspicious stares. He didn’t like how people looked at Horobi—like he was was a bomb that they expected to go off at any moment. Aruto had to remind him often that the transition was as hard for everyone else as it was for them. Trust was hard to relearn, for both sides.

For his part, Horobi made an effort. He was generally indifferent to his infamy, already long accustomed to suspicion and coldness from humans—but for his adopted son’s sake, he made deliberate attempts to assuage their fears and fit in. Even when it was clear to anyone who knew he’d rather be in the company of Fuwa—one of the few to whom he felt he had nothing to prove—he’d put on a face to try and keep others at ease. He even tried to smile a  few times, though that rarely went over well.

As time went on, however, people stopped staring so much. Months fell away, turning into years. Memory didn’t exactly fade, but altered. There was less fear and more marvel. But that wasn’t the only things that changed.

People who didn’t recognise them would ask if Horobi was his brother, starting at some point in his thirties. Horobi had never paid much mind to such questions to begin with, so Jin often found himself recounting the explanation multiple times, while Horobi hovered like a ghost at his elbow. Out of all of them, Horobi and Izu remained the same; timeless while the humans around them steadily altered. Aruto had to politely force Fuwa, the eldest of them, to retire from his new position as Hiden’s security head when it was clear the demands were too much for him—even after that, though, Fuwa stayed close, watching the Hiden CEO like an unofficial bodyguard. Yaiba was up and about even longer, rustling around ZAIA’s offices like a queen, not slowing down at all. She laughed and said it was because women lived longer—Fuwa shot back that it was because it was her.

Horobi said nothing about the expanding differences in their appearances, merely retuning his hyper awareness of his adoptive son to look for new things, always already offering help before Jin would even know he needed it. He even offered to carry Jin a few times, like he had was Jin was small, but Jin put a stop to that in his early fifties. Horobi was strong enough, but it didn’t seem right anymore. Around then, he also stopped giving proper answers when people misinterpreted their relationship.

When he was in his sixties, he slipped on the sidewalk, and though some passersby rushed forward to help, it was, as always, Horobi who caught him instantly, gently pulling him back up.

“Such a dutiful son!” A woman nearby had exclaimed.

Horobi ignored her, but Jin couldn’t resist glancing over and giving her a small smile. “Yes.” He said, “I am.” Her eyes had bugged out. Later, Horobi hadn’t understood why it was funny—but Horobi never understood why anything was funny.

As he got even older, there was an unspoken tension in the air. For the first time, they were both confronting something neither had considered before; being separated. Horobi, he knew, wouldn’t say anything, still so afraid of accidentally pressuring Jin into something, constantly doubting himself. That meant it fell upon Jin to broker the conversation, something he made plans to do.

Until he started getting sick, and their balance shattered.

The doctors the others dragged him to concluded it was some sort of delayed response to exposure to radiation. Something that had been building in his body all those years at Daybreak that was finally breaking free as he got older and weaker. He considered trying to hide it from Horobi, until Izu looked him in the eye and informed him that if she had noticed, there was no way Horobi hadn’t.

He was quickly confined to a hospital—moving hurt, and he was tired all the. Horobi was, s always, never far away, and the others came to visit often. Yaiba had finally retired—partially, Fuwa would always add with a chuckle until she smacked him with something. Aruto was starting to ease out of his duties as CEO, needing to lean more and more on Izu just to get around. Jin didn’t know what Aruto was planning to do—but he knew the idea he had had, even before the illness set in, and he knew Aruto still had the power to make it happen.

“… It’s possible.” The Hiden CEO admittedly, slowly. “My father…” Aruto trailed off there, and Jin waited patiently for him to find his voice again. Aruto didn’t really talk about his father—at least, not to anyone other than Izu or Fuwa—and it was better not to push him. “… It’s possible.” He finally continued, sighing slightly. “And we’ve made even more advancements in the field. But…” He looked sideways at Jin then. “Are you sure? It’s not exactly something you can take back.” Speaking was effort, but Jin carefully met Aruto’s eyes and nodded. Aruto studied him, then sighed again. “Alright. But there’s someone who wants to talk to you first.” The Hiden CEO shifted his seat to reveal the doorway.

Horobi was standing by Izu’s shoulder, looking distraught, for him.

Jin looked back at Aruto accusingly, dragging his voice out to demand, “You told Horobi?”

A small smile flitted across Aruto’s face. “Well, see, I need parental permission on the form…” He stopped when he saw Jin’s incredulous look. “… You should have told him.” Turning his head, Aruto signalled Izu, who came over and helped him up. “I’ll let you two discuss this,” He told them, “Call me if there’s a decision.” Then he and his secretary made their way out, with his arm around her shoulders, slipping past Horobi and out the door.

For a long time, silence filled the room. Then, slowly, Horobi crossed the floor, sitting beside his bed, and taking Jin’s nearest hand in both of his.

“You don’t have to do this for me.” Horobi’s hands were actually warm on his, unlike the usual room temperature, the HumaGear putting conscious effort into trying to make him as comfortable as possible. “I will stay by your side until the very end, hold your hand when you pass on.” The hold on his hand tightened, though the pressure was, as always, carefully measured so as not to hurt him. “I will remember my promise—I will watch over them, guard them. Justice will be done, cities built, and a future made in your name.” One of the perfectly temperature-controlled hands moved to tenderly touch his cheek. “You are my son. I will be your legacy, and you will not be forgotten.”

He looked back into the HumaGear’s eternally weary eyes. It was hard to remember his younger days, when Horobi had been so hard to read, all blank and ominous. Now detecting the sorrow in those eyes was as natural as breathing—perhaps even more so, by this point. There was also something else there, hiding just behind the thick curtains of forlorn affection; guilt. The like of which he had seen before. “But…?” He prompted softly, voice even hoarser than usual.

Horobi’s gaze faltered, flicking downward.

A laugh bubbled from him, one that even almost sounded like his old childish giggles, just a little more breathless. Even as tired as he was, his lips pulled into a smile. Slowly, he freed one arm from the blankets, reaching over to cup Horobi’s face and gently lift it back up to meet his eyes again. “… But if I leave…” He whispered, running his thumb across the HumaGear’s cheek, “… Horobi will be lonely again.”

Horobi still couldn’t weep—but Jin knew for certain he heard his adoptive father’s breathing hitch.

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

… Or, maybe it isn’t.

At least, that ending is supposed to be kinda hopeful. Kinda.

Hopefully it’s also at least kinda clear what Jin’s idea is. I may have made it rather obvious. ^^;

[hookaroo]

Vocivore, Ltd. (46 of 46)

Also on FFN and AO3 (ListerofTardis)

Tagging @ouatwinterwhump​, @killian-whump​, @sancocnutclub​, @killianjonesownsmyheart1​, @courtorderedcake​, @facesiousbutton82​ <3

AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH I CAN’T BELIEVE WE’RE AT THE END!!!!!!

Special thanks again to @sherlockianwhovian​ for organizing the event that started it all :)

A million thanks to @cocohook38​ for the incredible art that I will never ever recover from! LET’S ALL TAKE ANOTHER LOOK AT PERFECTION!!! 

COVER ART 1 ~~~ COVER ART 2 ~~~ CHAPTER 1 ~~~ CHAPTER 7 ~~~ CHAPTER 12 (ART) ~~~ CHAPTER 12 (ANIMATION) ~~~ CHAPTER 19 ~~~ CHAPTER 34 ~~~ CHAPTER 36 ~~~ @sancocnutclub​ WE ARE SO BLESSED BY YOU!!!!!!!!! (**APPLAUSE AND FLOWERS AT YOUR FEET**)

Thanks to everyone who stuck with it to the end and left such amazing and supportive comments!!! I love you all!

I have an idea or two for new stories, but it will be a while before anything is near ready for sharing. In the meantime, may I humbly direct you to my previous works on FFN? 

“Or Sleep with the Fishes,” “They Never Bury Your Bones,” and “A Captain’s Heart” are all whumpy multichapter tales which I may someday also post to AO3. They can be read in any order but the latter two make small references to their predecessors so may as well read in date order.

Also @killian-whump has a wonderful collection of fics (and art!) by other amazing creators of whump so do check all of them out as well!!

________________________________________________________________

One month later…

Emma took her eyes off of the road for a brief moment to glance over at Killian, who was currently reclined in the passenger seat of the Bug. Just as she had suspected: fast asleep. She let him be, knowing that with the rough road coming up, his nap would not last much longer.

He had only been released from the hospital two days ago, Whale having declared that further recuperation could be managed on an outpatient basis, as long as he remained on bed rest and followed the prescribed regimen of medications to support his physical and mental well-being. Uncharacteristically, Killian was submitting to all of it without complaint, even though the drugs battling the brain deterioration, in particular, left him feeling wiped out and frequently sick. He had hardly been out of bed beyond scheduled short trips down the hall to stretch leg muscles and a stiff ankle, to prevent blood clots, and build strength in his recovering lungs. Apart from that, he had mostly been sleeping, although he never turned away the opportunity to have Hope nearby. Even when she was there against her mother's wishes. Killian would fix her with a tired smile, hold out a brace-encased hand, and invite her onto the bed next to him. Oreo-Eeyore usually joined them and, more than once, was left behind to keep Killian company after Hope had scampered away.

Today, Hope was attending a half-day Kiddie Cruise hosted by Captain Smee; the first two had been so popular that the Wish Realm captain of the Jolly Roger had been talked into arranging some shorter sailing excursions without the dire motivation behind it. Emma knew that Killian would have liked to attend as well, had he been a bit stronger, but they both trusted Smee and his crew, and Hope’s Auntie Alice was specifically in charge of the three-year-old this time. 

Of course, there was still a small part of both of them loathe to let her out of their sight for any length of time. Emma was getting better about it; Killian still had major difficulty, as his perverse images of her tortured little body were quick to resurface when he didn't have her physically present to counteract them. But they couldn't be near her all the time, and their errand today was not an appropriate one to include a toddler in.

Just as anticipated, as the pavement gave way to mud and potholes, Killian’s breathing indicated his return to wakefulness. He did not stir or even open his eyes, but Emma saw the telltale signs of pain and tension in the way he held himself and the very controlled manner with which he drew breath.

“You okay?” she asked quietly. “We can still turn back; you don't have to do this.”

Killian merely tightened his jaw and nodded once. And really, she had not expected anything different, but she’d had to try. 

*****

There had been much speculation over the origin of the ruined village which had become the Vocivore’s base of operations. Emma’s personal opinion was that it looked like a long-dead World War II village, and being within the borders of the Land of Untold Stories, it was likely the setting of some sort of war romance or similar BS. The bigger mystery was the origin of the monster itself, and how it had come to reside in the United Realms. She was convinced that they would never find a satisfactory explanation of that question.

Thanks to knowledge gleaned from three weeks’ worth of Exchanges, both Killian and Emma knew that they wouldn't find another Vocivore lurking anywhere nearby, and that it hadn't... laid eggs or whatever. But that possibility would have been a mere fraction of the rationale behind the village’s eventual condemnation, anyway. None of the buildings were structurally sound, and only a few could have been considered salvageable if someone had the motivation. No one did, of course. Suffering leached into every wall, broken window, and rotting ceiling, like blood stains that could never be scrubbed away. So they would be demolished, the materials repurposed when possible, and the land converted somehow; those details had yet to be determined. But today was day one of the destruction. And the church would be the first building to fall.

Killian shifted in his seat, and though his eyes were still closed, Emma could tell by the quickening of his breaths that he sensed their impending arrival.

She had almost decided not to tell him, fearing that it would upset him too much to think about that place, even in the knowledge of its demolition. But an impulse had caused her to murmur the information in a casual, gentle way the night before he'd been discharged from the hospital. He hadn't said much at first; Emma had thought that maybe her initial instinct was correct and he didn't want to even think about it. But then, later, out of the blue and in a tremulous but determined voice, he had surprised her by saying that he wanted to watch. Once out of earshot, she had discussed the idea with Dr. Whale and Dr. Hopper, who had both given a cautious green light, thinking it could serve as therapeutic. But both men had also warned that revisiting the site of so much trauma could be more than Killian could handle so soon, and thus had extracted a promise that she would keep a very close watch on him the whole time. As if she would ever do any different.

Rounding the final bend, the trees began to give way to flashes of bright yellow construction equipment. And even though she was sure she hadn't given any hint, she could see signs of increased tension from Killian, as if he could sense their proximity without having to open his eyes. The ragged shape of the church’s bell tower loomed above the village, looking even more unstable than when she'd first laid eyes on it. She shuddered with an unexpected chill. This was also her first time back; she had not anticipated that it might be difficult on her as well.

The Bug bumped up onto the beginning of the cobblestone road that paved the village streets. Newer model cars lined both sides, indicating the number of United Realms citizens in attendance that day. The liberal application of yellow caution tape blocking doors and windows gave a cheery, bumblebee mask over the pall of death still present in the doomed community. Emma glanced at Killian and found him quietly observing their progress, working visibly to keep his breaths slow and even.

A rose-dusted pigeon strutted its arrogant little way along the gutter, and Emma battled a brief but powerful temptation to swerve in that direction. A few new scratches to add to the car’s nose would be a small price to pay for the satisfaction of flattening the feathered pest. But it wouldn’t make a difference to the problem as a whole, and Emma didn’t want to cause Killian any additional pain, so she contented herself with casting mental curses in its direction as they passed.

The pigeon quandary persisted, no easy solution to be found. Current suggestions included rounding them all up and transporting them to their natural habitat in New York City, trying to get them to interbreed with regular pigeons to hopefully dilute their ability to block magic, or create a strain of avian flu that would target them specifically and wipe them all out. That last one sounded like the premise of an apocalypse movie to Emma, but with the proven-but-painfully-slow success of his treatment for Vocivore-Slave-Brain, Dr. Whale now considered himself even more of an invincible Scientist! than he had before. 

Meanwhile, the shield expanded, and Killian’s ability to survive a longer trek was worthless because even the furthest reaches of the United Realms were now stripped of their magic as well. A visit to another realm altogether was not out of the picture, but everyone, including Killian, had reservations about the effects of portal travel on his hard-earned progress, so that remained a task for the future. To be honest, at this point, not much benefit would be gleaned from exposure to healing magic anyway, though Emma would have liked to spare him the residual pain, and possibly reduce the visibility of some of his more gruesome new scars.

Later, she promised herself. When they were sure the forces of a portal would not disrupt the fragile healing within his brain and cause a relapse of the condition. Today was about his psychological well-being. She pulled into the village square and came to a halt directly in the center, a front-row seat for the crumbling of remembered demons. Maybe it was absurd to feel resentful towards a building for not falling on its evil occupant when it had the chance, but Emma knew she would feel a vindictive pleasure watching its destruction nonetheless.

*****

The car had stopped, but it was as if the church had continued moving, sliding near, swelling in dimension and darkness until it filled the entirety of Killian's view out the windshield. In fact, it seemed to fill the car itself, almost as if the car were inside the church and the church inside the car. Or maybe the car didn't exist at all. Maybe Killian didn't exist at all; perhaps it was his spirit hovering just beyond the crooked door, just out of sight of the cooling corpse it had recently vacated, now on its way to the place of white light and columns where screams no longer rent the cool morning air. 

AT LONG LAST. MY TRIPOD HAS RETURNED.

The voice was not real. Logically, Killian knew that, had drilled the facts of the monster’s defeat over and over into his mind. The words were of his own creation, filling the space where harsh dominion once dwelt. Whale and Hopper had both confirmed that enough exposure to anything and the brain could replicate sensations even in their absence.

That knowledge did nothing to combat the feelings of despair taking root within Killian now.

I EAGERLY AWAIT YOUR PRESENCE, TRIPOD, his Master seemed to say. COME INSIDE AND YOU SHALL SCREAM AS YOU’VE NEVER SCREAMED BEFORE.

Emma placed an understanding hand on his forearm, which pulsed with residual and remembered pain. A muscular, slithery tentacle; Z’s leather strap, pulling on a ring that was no longer present, dragging him where he did not wish to go, restraining him with a shattering ache that had not truly subsided even after initial reconstructive surgery. The stake was gone; its oppression remained.

“Should I tell them to get started?” Emma's gentle voice was way out of place, startlingly jarring among the torture of memories. Killian winced, filling tight lungs with shaky resolve.

"I need to go inside," he whispered, and Emma's expression of patient understanding crumbled into doubt.

“I... Are you sure?”

Killian felt his tentative nod wobble side to side nearly as much as it bobbed up and down. This, apparently, did not do too much to convince her of his confidence. Suppressing a shudder, he reached for the door handle.

“Okay, just... Hold on,” urged Emma as she hastily unbuckled her seatbelt. “Let me get it.”

Even the flash of resentment at his temporary helplessness was not enough to fully drive away the monstrous voice.

YES, it confirmed, HELPLESS. YOU WILL NOT BE ABLE TO DEFEND YOURSELF OR YOUR FAITHFUL MATE SHOULD YOU ENTER. BUT YOU WILL COME ANYWAY BECAUSE YOU CANNOT RESIST MY COMMAND.

Killian allowed Emma to unbuckle his seatbelt and assist him to his feet, but his eyes never left the imposing scene of nightmares before him. Though so much had changed since his last time crossing that threshold, the ingrained feelings of reluctant terror still clawed at his being as he took a wobbly step forward.

There were strangers in hard hats gathered on the stoop. Their clothing bore little resemblance to sackcloth, yet their presence hearkened back to the revolving groups of dull-eyed guards endlessly cluttering the entrance. The ones who had listened to Killian's screams, watched the tortures, suffered some themselves. And the majority of whom were now dead.

Emma waved a cordial greeting to the relaxed construction workers, who nodded back casually, their posture normal, an ordinary, calm light in their eyes. No duress. No fatalistic numbness. Killian thought he may recognize one or two, but the blurred tentacles crawling across his vision prevented a positive identification. With the hand not currently helping to support her husband's weight, Emma flashed her badge and murmured some sort of explanation, to which one of them replied something about still clearing out the interior. Occupied with fighting oppressive memory, Killian focused on remaining upright, allowing Emma to do the talking.

And then the door was screeching open in a mockery of human suffering. And then he was walking through, joining a procession of his previous selves from the first to the last, each slightly more hunched than the one before, curling inward in anticipation of the pain, less and less able to face the scene ahead. Bowing, body and soul, to the dark of despair.

A blood-tinged shaft of light illuminated a patch of paving stone at the bottom of the stairs, as if highlighting the spot he had fallen so often, had lain in utter torment, visualizing his daughter’s corpse while it was he himself who cried and bled.

The altar was gone. Dismantled, decorative facing and heavy broken surface nowhere to be seen. A few scuff marks and differently colored concrete were the only signs of its once-looming presence at the top of the steps. Other stains marred the empty floor; Killian did not have to work very hard to guess their origin.

He did not wish to get any closer, but his unsteady legs took him forward anyway while dust particles and flashes of nothing became heavy, lurking pincer and wriggling tentacle in the corners of his vision. Each time he blinked, the instant of darkness filled with ghastly mental images: sometimes the Vocivore returned, sometimes the fictional Hope which he’d been working so hard to banish from his memory. He could hardly even feel Emma’s supporting hand under his elbow, or even her presence at his side; he'd always come into this room alone, come to face its worst alone, and his subconscious mind could not reconcile the change in paradigm.

Oddly enough, though, the remembered voice remained as silent as the empty cathedral. Fragments of disjointed scenes continue to play behind his eyes, their haunting soundtrack present but muffled, all firmly in the realm of past torments and absent any current threat. Could it be that the visual evidence of the Master's lair, empty, had shut up its voice once and for all? Killian scarcely dared imagine the possibility.

Only steps away from the scuffed stairs, Killian's weakened foot caught on an uneven stone and he staggered into Emma, who silently braced him up, throwing her arm around him and squeezing in a comforting manner. With a couple of one-legged hops, he managed to regain his balance, though he remained reluctant to put his full weight back on the tender ankle. Emma glanced around and spotted an upended pew in the periphery of the space.

"Can you manage on your own for a sec?" she murmured. At Killian's unconvincing nod, she carefully ducked out from under his arm and hurried toward the pew.

If Killian had felt alone before, the feeling tripled as Emma's presence vanished. The ghost outline of the altar shimmered into view. His arm resting atop with a spike driving into the bone. His savaged body pounding against the wood while he screamed. His bloodied hand, impaled amongst tarnished depictions of wheat stalks and grapevines, shuddering as the last vestiges of life drained away.

And then, again, the image and the words, louder than ever. The old mantra. Hope kidnapped, Hope tortured, Hope dead, no hope no hopenohope…

Quickly back at his side, dragging the long wooden bench along with her, Emma recognized his distress and gently eased him down onto its surface, pulling his aching fist away from his face, quietly urging him to relax, to breathe, reminding him that she was there and that he was safe. Tears dripped onto Killian's lap as he struggled to contain his sobs. Emma knelt before his hunched form, squeezing his wrist and stroking his cheek, shedding tears of her own in response to his emotional turmoil.

After several minutes, Killian managed to drive away the demons and settled into a quivery rhythm of intentional breathing; it was the only way he would escape an eternal spiral into overwhelming hopelessness. His chest ached from the strain, his hand throbbed with the effort of holding his emotions in his fist. The volume of the wrong mantra decreased but did not abate. Still stroking his cheek, Emma murmured, 

“Are you okay?”

Killian gave a tentative nod, and he could feel the remnants of the involuntary tremors that still appeared whenever he was tired or stressed. “Just... Tell me it will get better.”

“It will,” she promised softly. “I really believe that.”

She delicately threaded the fingers of one hand inside his, gently but persistently nudging his fist to relax. When his fingers were finally uncoiled and his palm flat, facing upward, she began a careful massage of the tender flesh beneath the brace.

“We did a good thing, Killian. It's hard for us to say it was worth it. Hell, if we had known all the details, and how long it would take, I don't know that I would have been able to go through with it. But…” She leaned back on her haunches in order to look up into his face. “I've been thinking about what you said to Archie the other day, about how the scars will make it hard to forget everything. And I think… maybe that's the way it should be.”

Killian just looked at her through red-rimmed eyes. Continuing on, she explained,

"Each one represents a wound you bore so that someone else wouldn't have to. And, frankly... we'd all be dead if you hadn't done what you did. Sooner or later, in all likelihood, most of Storybrooke would be dead. So instead of looking at the scars and remembering the awful, I think you should give each one a meaning. A person whose life you saved by enduring all that pain, whom you can think about instead of the torture itself."

Killian studied her, eyes slightly brighter as he turned the idea over in his mind, and Emma flashed an encouraging smile. 

"Need an example?"

Seeing his nod of agreement, Emma ran her finger along his palm, where she knew, underneath the stretchy fabric of the brace, a pinkish-white line marked the entry wound from the dagger stabbed through and into the altar. 

"I can think of two people you’ve called your right-hand man in different situations. For a long while, that position was filled by Mister Smee." She turned his hand over and traced an approximation of the exit wound on the back. "These days, when you go sailing, it's always Henry who takes over the duties of first mate. So... you got this scar so Henry could live. And this one is for Smee." With each person named, she touched the corresponding line on his skin, so gently that there was barely a whisper of sensation in response.

A tear dripped off the tip of Killian's nose as, with head bowed, he watched his wife’s fingers brush his hand. 

Quietly, Emma asked, 

“What do you think? Helpful?”

Killian gave a hesitant, indecipherable movement of his head.

“Want me to keep going?”

“Please.”

The word was faint, hollow with ache but also a dash of hope. Emma clambered to her feet, her hand trailing along his jawline and down until it came to rest with fingers splayed over the twin lines on his shoulder which marked the transmitter’s brutal removal.

“Side by side,” she remarked. “Sounds like Mom and Dad; what do you think?”

Killian winced a tiny smile, and she took that as his approval. Emma sat gingerly on the pew next to him and held his blunted wrist in both hands, massaging the sides once skewered by cruel metal and asking,

“Detective Jones?”

“And Alice,” he added hoarsely. Emma smiled fondly. Then she sobered and laid her hand against his chest, approximating the site of the near-fatal stabbing. It had not fully knitted into a solid scar yet, the outer layers still supported by strips of water-resistant tape beneath padded bandaging. Sudden tears sprang to her eyes as her free hand came up to tangle absently in his hair.

“And this one,” she choked out, pausing to clear her throat before continuing, “nearest your heart… this one's for Hope, I think.”

Killian's vision blurred, and a sob jolted his chest, but instead of the corpse of his nightmares, he saw the charmingly misshapen sketch of the Papa bear, cradling the lump that represented his baby bear as he protected her from a frowning monster that only the mind of a 3-year-old could conjure. He sniffed, wiped his eyes with a careful knuckle, and breathed, 

“Aye. For Hope.”

A long moment’s silence filled the sanctuary as tortures relived began to take on additional significance and gruesome mental images grew new outlines. Emma continued to make her presence known through comforting touch, and finally, over tense neck muscles, her tender fingers found two dime-sized pink discs which had only recently lost their scabs. The matching pair on the other side would be out of her view, but it was clear she referred to all four when she mused,

“I was going to say something about naming everyone in your life who could be described as a pain in the neck, but would that be too flippant?”

Surprising both of them with a quick-witted response, Killian deadpanned, 

“Well, you've already assigned both Jones and Dave, so I'm not certain that leaves anyone else who fits that description.”

The moment of levity clashed so strikingly with everything the building had to come to represent, yet it felt improbably cathartic as well. Picking up on the mood, Emma leaned in to place a kiss on one of the scars, muttering in between pecks,

“Regina?”

 Killian almost smirked. She kissed the other, saying,

“Doctor Whale?”

With a groan, he conceded that point. 

“Most assuredly.” Then he added, “S'pose we can't list Regina without the inclusion of her sister.”

“Zelena. Right. And the fourth?”

“That only leaves one, Swan. Let's see if you can name him.”

Emma truly did not have to think very hard to come up with that one. The uncontested champion of showing up at the worst possible time with tidings of woe. “Oooh! I know! It's Grumpy, isn't it?”

“Unlikely as it is,” said Killian, “this one is for Grumpy.”

Thrilled that he was taking to her idea so positively, she was about to try and make the dubious connection of "ankle biter" to Neal and Robin, neither of whom were anywhere near that category anymore, but at least he'd known them when they were... But before she could go down that path, Killian abruptly straightened and shifted positions so that he faced her a little more squarely.

"Distant friends and relations are all well and good," he said as he reached for her hand. "But there's one person immensely important to me whom we've not yet mentioned."

Emma took a slow breath. She really hoped he wouldn't be upset by what she was about to share. Placing a hand above his ear, she stroked his temple with her thumb for several heartbeats.

"Some scars you can't see," she finally began. "But are no less painful or important. So... the ones you carry in here..." Her fingers stilled, her hand an almost weightless representation of the burden he bore within his mind. "Those are for me. Because I have some, too. And mine are for you. They're the price I'm so willing to pay to have you here with me." Emma snuggled closer, dropping her hand to his back and resting her forehead against his. "It's a burden we'll carry together," she continued softly. "And that's why I believe it'll get better, Killian: we'll help each other."

Killian felt a new sort of pain at the thought of Emma's own trauma, and how she'd been dealing with it mostly on her own as he endured the grueling process of recovery. But he could not deny drawing a small measure of comfort from her words, her expression of empathy and promise of support. He leaned into her and they shared a moment of silent communication, where emotions and vulnerabilities and fears intermingled in an easy acceptance, where it was okay to have doubts and dark thoughts as long as they both clung to the shared hope of brighter days ahead. And in that moment of quiet, Killian mentally reached for the images that might one day replace, or at least live alongside, all the scenes of torture. He watched the brand scalding his palm, then thought of Granny, her false prickliness covering such warmth and generosity. That one was for her. He felt the pincer tearing at his ear and pictured Archie, patiently absorbing as much of the story as Killian was ready to tell, giving advice and professional support as needed; that one was for him. He saw himself pinned to the altar and struggling to breathe, and instead of succumbing to the imagined fire in his lungs, he clung to his tangible Hope, the ability to see her again in just a few hours, the proof of how she viewed her papa and what he had done for all of them. For Hope, he thought. Always and forever, for her.

"Which one are you hearing now?" Emma whispered into the silence, and Killian worked to direct the inner mantra as he'd been taught.

Hope, free. Hope, safe. Hope, loved.

"The good one."

Hope, free. Hope, safe. Hope, loved.

"I’m glad. What say we get out of here; let ‘em finish their work so they can smash this place to smithereens and we can go home?"

Hope, free. Hope, safe. Hope, loved.

Vocivore, defeated.

Hope, free.

Killian, free.

Free.

"I'm ready."

________________________________________________________________

[dickmedownmendess]

The Chosen Two

This has been on my mind for the past week so I finally decided to write it. Hope you guys enjoy! (Also hopefully it doesn’t get removed like my last one *wipes away tears*)

Pairings: Connor x OC

Words: 3.k

Glasses clattered together as conversation filled the luxurious venue. Numerous college students scattered the large room, holding champagne glasses containing God-only-knows. 

          “Either I’m extremely tipsy or just generally nervous, but I think I’m going to barf.” I mutter to my best friend, Avery, as we stood close to each other in the midst of everyone.

Tonight was an award ceremony for UCLA’s School of Film, Theatre and Television. I was nominated for many different categories in the film category, and with the competitive nature I possessed, I desired to win every category I was in. The most important award I was in the running for was Film of the Year which, if won, gives the opportunity to display your talents publicly, while also gaining the exposure to jumpstart your career. 

         “Oh quit it, you’ve done so many talented videos and photo shoots, it would be discrimination if you didn’t win at least one of them.” She ensures confidently. I eyed her quizzically, a humorous smile spreading across my lips. 

         “Discrimination?” I repeat in a laugh. She was always a little melodramatic in her motivational speeches. 

         “For sure, it would be discrimination against a bad bitch honestly.” We both laugh, clinking glasses in agreement to the statement. 

Once it dies down, I scan the room for the one, and the only person that has been heavy on my mind since nominations were announced. 

         “Listen, my type isn’t surfer-white-boy, but that Connor Cashier guy can get it.” Alex whispers to me, her eyes fixed on what I assumed, Connor. Following her gaze, I also looked at the man of the hour–and also the cause of my nauseate. 

He dressed in a grey tailored suit, the jacket opened to reveal a checkered button-up that complimented the suit, and overall posh look. He raked a hand through his prim hair, chuckling at something someone was saying to him. A crowd gradually formed around him, but he remained placid, not an utter amount of uneasiness in his demeanor. 

         “Connor Brashier is my worst nightmare right now.” I admit, Alex looks away from him to give me a perplexed frown. 

         “And why is that? The boy looks like he weighs no more than 90 pounds wet.” 

My gaze lingers on him, momentarily lost in how well composed his film he admitted was. It captured all the aesthetics of nature, it made the viewers look at nature past just its beauty. He raised awareness of our effect on nature, all while tying a story plot to it. He filmed it across many beautiful nature spots in the States (only because it was prohibited to use out of state content). 

He was basically the poster child for the film major, most underclass students looked up to him, like he was a mogul. 

What made it all the more frustrating was how well he handled the popularity. It was always so mysterious. He didn’t smile too much, and he wasn’t smug about his accomplishments, there weren’t any troubling stories about him, mostly just allegations of who he sleeps with and the typical rumor subjects. He simply focused on his filming and chilled with his friends in downtime. 

I didn't realize how long I was staring until his eyes meet mine, the blues in them so intense, they practically shined under the starlight. I quickly avert my gaze back to Alex, sighing. 

          “He’s just so talented. And like–I don’t know. I’m just afraid he’s going to win and continue to get the exposure he basically already has.” I confess, toying with a ringlet of hair out of habit when I’m nervous. 

          “You’re downplaying your own work D, you personified California, and filmed them around California. And told a story. Who the hell thinks of that? You articulated on every detail, I had to use my brain. You know I don't like doing that. Your film is stunning. And if it couldn’t get better, you did it all on the price of your own money. I doubt rich boy Connor can say that.” She states matter of factually, sass lacing her words. I blush, genuinely warm by her, comical, but uplifting words.

          “You’ve always had a way with words, that’s why you need to win that journalist of the year award.” I hug her. 

          “Oh honey, I’m not worried about a stupid award, that’s just justification for objectifying our talents to a mere thing that’ll wind up in our attics...or a box, or a trash...or even a–” 

          “Ladies and gentlemen if you could find your seat at your designated tables. We will start the ceremony shortly.” The president announces into the microphone. Alex huffs, giving a small eye roll. I snicker patting her shoulder. 

          “See ya later journalist of the year.” I tease with a wink. Backing away, I don’t watch where I’m going and stumble into a body. Their hands instinctively grabbed my sides to hold me up. The piquant cologne was the first thing noticed before I even turned, but once I became motionless. 

          “Sorry, Danielle right?” I looked up and blinked mute. Lost for words mostly because I was baffled at his voice, I don’t think I’ve ever heard him talk—and I’ve definitely had to do a project with him in the past, so that says a lot for the amount of dialogue he uses. Straightening up, I recover smoothly flipping my hair off my shoulder. 

          “Yes, sorry about that.” I give a wry smile, he merely smiles back in response nodding his head. 

We both walk to the same table, he glances over his shoulder noticing me, automatically pulling out a chair for me before taking a seat of his own a few chairs down. I smile at the unexpected gesture, he winks back taking a swig of drink in his seat. 

Looking around the table, it registers that the people seated here are also nominees for the best film. I didn’t even feel threatened by them, and a hinted ounce of guilt surface while I smile at them. Champagne glasses accommodates the table, and I grab one, taking a swill of the bitter drink. 

They didn’t hold back on the alcohol at all. 

Promptly, the different professors of the theatre major began presenting awards. As much as I wanted to be entertained by the witty commentary, the heavy weight of my eyelids kept me blinking, while shifting in my seat, I lightly swayed, grabbing hold of the table to stabilize myself. 

How much did I drink? I wonder, glancing around the table to check if anyone witnessed my drunkenness. Catching the striking eyes of Connor, he smirks, his chest noticeably bouncing in a silent laugh. I giggle as well, looking away and excusing myself from the table. 

My heels felt 10 feet tall as I walked to the bathroom, but I did it effortlessly, disguising how tipsy I truly was. Once in the comforts of the clean bathroom, I look at myself. 

Shouldn’t have done that. 

The world spun, and I was suddenly a lot cuter than before. 

         “Ah shit, I’m drunk.” I murmur, then giggle because in my consumption of the many glasses of champagne, I also swallowed the tickled bug. Wetting a napkin, I patted my eyes, endeavoring to clear up the swirl in her eyes, while not messing up the makeup job Alex did. She made me look stunning, alcohol-aside. “If all fails and I don’t win a damn thing, at least I look cute...right?” I say to myself, while examining my face. Before leaving the bathroom, I pee out a small portion of the liquor, tugging the end of my bodycon dress down on my thighs after I flush and leave the stall. 

Stumbling out of the bathroom, I exhale heavily glancing at the ongoing dull ceremony, then towards the exit where Connor leans on the wall hiding, his back faced me, head pointed down. The liquor confidence ushered my legs to move in his direction, I cleared my voice. 

Mid-exhale, he looks over his shoulder at the sound, the mango smoke blowing into my face as he continues to blow out. I wave it away, snickering. 

          “Is this ‘something to take the edge off’?” I quip, observing how his porcelain face reddens around his structured cheeks, plush lips turning up in a smile. Extending the vape to her, she contentedly takes it. 

          “Something like that. I knew it was going to be long and boring, but that in their is worse than watching paint dry.” He explains watching as I take a drag off the vape. His eyes fixates on my glossy lips, the ghost cloud floating into my nose, before I release the cloud back out on his face. The soft smile doesn’t falter in his features as it does. 

          “It’s so boring I got drunk...on accident.” I add, earning his chuckle. He shrugs his shoulders in a way to say ‘I feel that’. The crowd clapped loudly gaining their attention as all of the theatre winners stood on stage receiving the applauds. I look back at him, his long, shiny hair falls over his forehead until he combs a hand through it to push it back. “You know, honestly speaking–thanks to the cheap champagne–I will confess, you’re the most intimidating person I’ve met. And I’ve met...menaced people.” He quirks a perfectly shaped eyebrow at her. 

          “Well without alcohol I can say the same about you.” I raise my eyebrows at the newfound information. I thought I was transparent: I smile at everyone I pass, and social when needed. “You just carry yourself in a way that I see through that sweet, school-girl façade. As cliché as it sounds, there’s more to you that you let on.” He mirrors my reaction as I tilt my head with a smirk, interested by his explanation. 

Before she was able to reply, a professor of there’s, headed to the bathroom—sees them, “Connor, Danielle, will you make your way back to your seats please. We don’t want to gather a social group back here.” Connor and I straighten up like seized burglars. I nod my head, peaking over to Connor swiftly, to see him still holding the smirk. 

The ceremony continues as we returned to our seats. They were several awards into the Television portion, I peered over to see Alex collected a couple of the “objectifying” awards. As though feeling my gaze, she looks at me, rolling her eyes with an expression that mentally says “shut up”. I giggle blowing a kiss. 

          “And the Kelly Hollywood Television ‘best journalist’ award, this student showed diligence, dedication and always a jovial attitude in whatever she does, the award goes to...Alexandra Smith!” 

Everyone applauded, but I went out of the way to stand, cheering loudly as she narrowed her eyes at me on her way up to the stage. 

         “That’s my bit—girl!” I chirp correcting myself before I acted my true—goofy—self. I could tell I gained eyes from my peripheral while I pestered my bestie, but Connor’s gaze was most capturing, as they scanned down my legs, over my butt, and up till they reached to meet mine. I blushed looking off, pulling my dress down again as I sat again. 

The filming and photography starts as our professors did their introductions to the different categories. I sober up immediately as names began to get called for different awards. Connor earned three awards off of his photography, and I one. In the film-focused subjects I managed to be chosen for three awards. After grabbing my third award, I take a seat back at the table. Glancing over at Connor, he leaned back in his chair relaxed, one elbow is placed on the table, face leaning on it with his finger tapping at his pink lips. He gives a subjective smirk when our eyes meet, making me question the reason behind it. But I divert my attention as they go into discussing the film of the year. 

          “This year has been one full of ups and downs, rewards and disgraces, but what matters is at the end of the day all of you have made the staff, and UCLA extremely proud. The Film of the Year is an award granted to us by alumni, actor and filmmaker, Nicolas Cage. With the accomplishments he has, he wanted to pay tribute back to the School of Film, by allowing the winner to display their talents in a publication with the Cage Network.” Students all around erupt into whispers. Most coming from theatre and television side, who commented how they weren’t given this opportunity.

Sucks to suck. I thought giggling internally.

          “We will now play a snippet of all of the nominees.” The first few videos were executed well, very worthy of the award. Connor’s video comes on now, gaining everyone’s attention instantly by its electrifying music and vibrant effects just from the start. As his went off a few of his friends cheered for him, he sends playful winks to them before looking over at me. Ignoring him, I continue watching as my film shows. 

Nerves rumbled my stomach, the sudden doubt of the turnout on my film clouding my mind as I watched, critiquing it even in its published form. 

Finishing out the rest of the nominees, the screen went black and attention was back on the professor Knox. “All of the films were impeccable, the decision was extremely hard to make, so hard that we have a two-way tie,” we all commenced in disappointed-confused-chatter, “these two films chosen were remarkable, we deliberated indepthly on the scores and grading but they were identical in it’s punctuality and creativity.The winners are…” 

For a moment all sound mutes, only the echoing voice of professor Knox could be heard as he says, “Connor Brashier and Danielle Golding!” It felt like slow motion the way I slowly whipped my head to Connor. He wore a content smile, scooting out of his seat to go accept the award. Blinking back into the reality of things, I pushed out of my chair as well. 

My wide eyes flash to Alex as she’s practically yelling, “that’s my girlfriend!” She earned a few quizzical frowns, causing me to chuckle. 

Still baffled by the choice, I took my spot beside Connor as Knox commanded the rest of the award-winners to come up on stage. Connor and I held the award together, his fingertips pressed against mine as we pushed closer together to fit into the group photo. 

The president said his ending message, concluding the event. Loud chatter drowned out the music playing in the background as everyone regrouped with their people. 

As I made my way to Alex, people stopped to congratulate me, I bowed my head in gratitude, genuinely stunned at all my winnings. I knew I said I wanted to win every category I was in, but I still expected a few awards, not this many. And let me not forget to mention, I’m one step closer to the breakout I needed from winning this award...even if I was partnering on it. 

          “Congratulations biiitch!” Alex yells, an adult walking by scolds her language as soon as it came out. I guffawed nearly dropping all the awards. 

          “Congratulations to you, Ms. objectify our talents and in an attic somewhere.” I mock earning a slap to my bare arm. Playfully wincing, I continued laughing until her face went straight, a soft smirk replacing, her eyes directed to something-or-one behind me. Turning, Connor—and a crowd mixed of giggling girls and ‘star struck’ guys—stood holding the film reel trophy. 

          “I gotta say, that wasn’t the outcome I expected.” Before I respond, I look at Alex, who already knew what to do. She takes my awards informing she was going to take them to the car. 

Facing Connor now, I cross my arms over my chest and give him a quizzical smile, “what outcome were you expecting then?”

He shrugs his shoulders, “for you to win alone, I mean for an actual cinematographer, I’m grateful they found my film great, but you rightfully deserve it.” He acknowledge, extending it out towards me. 

          “I’m a videographer, so, I agree. But I can’t take away from your talents, it really was a tie breaking situation.” I assured with a subtle shrug, pushing the trophy back to him.

          “Connor, Danielle, can I take a photo of you guys?” The journalist asks. All work and no play around here, I guess. I think to myself until the feel of Connor’s hand snakes around my side, delicate and cautious as though I was going to break under his touch. He rested it right at the small of my back. An electrifying feeling coursed my body at the touch. I scooted closer to him, taking in his cologne I got a whiff of earlier this evening. Wrapping my arm around his waist, I tilted my head just enough it nearly leaned against his shoulder. Smiling, the picture was taken and the journalist walks off after thanking us. 

Before Connor release me, he leans his head down close enough that his lips brush the top of my ear. “Think about it, we can be taking pictures just like this on a red carpet someday.” And with that he releases me and sinks into the waiting crowd, engulfing himself in conversation with them. Not leaving me the chance to respond. 

And so I did, I thought about the red carpet pictures, and the bright lights. How I could be famous from my work one day—not that it was my reasoning for doing this, but it wouldn’t hurt to be noted for my hard work—I never thought I would be doing it with him, Connor Brashier, a guy that, before tonight, didn’t how he sounded when he talked.  But I guess if I’m going to be taking pictures with someone, he’s a good pick. I mean, he is easy on the eyes. 

Overtime, people leave, conversation dies down and the clean up crew makes their way in. I stood in the foyer lost in discussion with professor Knox as he told me the details of what was to come for the project. There were minor changes that needed to be made since it was the two of us, but the overall objective still remained the same. 

          “As brilliant as you two are behind a camera, I’m sure everything will succeed ultimately. We weren’t torn between you for no reason. You two bring the most publicity to our part of the school with what you put out. If you guys manage to have good chemistry, there will be a rule of awakening in the world of film.” His words struck me, the amount of confidence he, and apparently the rest of the staff, had in Connor and I. I would have never expected it.

He exits out of the building leaving me with my whirlwind of thoughts. I don’t know Connor. Sure, I’ve worked on mini projects with him, but they required little to no interaction–to add it was a year ago when we did that project. 

This was an entirely different echelon of work. This wasn’t a mere grade, this was meant to provoke feeling into the public, draw their attention and want more. We were basically selling ourselves to the world. 

Still lost in thought, I don’t notice, until the familiar scent fills my nose that Connor also entered the foyer. He was alone–for once–and his hands were tucked away in his pockets his doe-eyes and solemn porcelain face, it always seem as though he was mad, but his lips displayed a smile that decreased that idea. 

         “I don’t know you, and I know you don’t know me, but my gut is telling me this will be a great hit for us both.” Connor moves closer, but stays a safe proximity away as his eyes bore into hers. 

I’m not easy to fall for a pretty set of eyes, and a tempting set of lips but I think I met my match as I feel stuck for words. Clearing my throat I turn away from high slightly, “you think so huh?” 

          “For sure, I’m not trying to sound psychological, but you have an open mind, and a keen sense for capturing things in its raw form. You can’t make that. That’s natural.” 

          “Okay Dr. Brashier.” I flirt, watching his teeth bite into his bottom lip. “Well needless to say, with this project you’ll probably find out that side I don’t let on.” I lower my voice, lightly trailing a finger on his arm. 

          “Danielle.” Alex says at the door, almost on cue. 

Connor shutters, licking his lips as I walk away, keeping my eyes trained on him. “See ya soon.” I whisper at last. 

          “You are honestly too much.” Alex mutters once we’re in the car. 

Batting my eyes innocently I look at her, “what are you talking about?” 

          “Don’t hurt that boy, he seems so innocent.” 

Feigning offense, I purse my lips. “I’m only going to do what he allows, life doesn’t throw bubble wrap lemons at us right?” 

Alex glares at me, “bitch what?” 

           “Exactly.” I say final, knowing I was talking out of my ass, but I did mean what I said. I’m not here to hurt, but he knows what he can and can’t handle. This project could do either one.

—

I honestly planned to make this a one part imagine but now I’m leaning more towards a fic [and depending on if you guys like it I definitely will]. I haven’t thought the plot through completely though so...yeah. Hope you enjoyed this Connor!InASuit content (because I know I enjoy Connor in a suit, no matter how long ago it was). More to come :)

Request can be made here :)

[doublethetheories]

Show vs. Science: Exploding Hands?

Hey everyone, welcome to the (long awaited) Bakugou Science Bust!! In this post it’s less about theories and more about finding the scientific inconsistencies in Bakugou’s quirk and finding solutions in the form of mini-theories. The formatting is going along the top questions I had and the results I got. Also warning this ended up being ~1900 words long (before editing) so... yea. 

The conclusion is basically a compare and contrast of the Canon vs. Scientific Bakugou and what differences we end up with. Feel free to reblog with your own theories or reaction to this, since I really enjoy seeing your feedback.

Before getting into the science of it, let’s just recap what we know about Bakugou Katsuki. As explained in season 1, episode 7, his ‘exploding hands’ quirk stems from him sweating nitroglycerin and (somehow) being able to channel that into his explosions. Right off the bat, we already know the science will not allow him to use his quirk the way he does in the show where he uses mere ‘concentration’(?) to set off his explosions. So let’s get into the specifics of his limitations.

Could he actually control the explosions?

Seems like a pretty easy place to start right? It’s a valid question; just because he has nitroglycerin in his system doesn’t mean he can actually control when or if he explodes. (Which is a bit worrying.)

The answer to this one already gives us a few inconsistencies between canon and science compliant versions of this character. Yes, he can control the explosions. If Bakugou is able to sweat nitroglycerin, he would almost always have a thin layer of explosive liquid covering his body. (It can also be assumed that, with this as his power and with puberty having already hit, he sweats a lot.) 

From there, the nitroglycerin in its liquid form can be exploded in one of two ways; heat or shock/impact. And since Bakugou obviously isn’t going to rely on a lighter or Todoroki to help him out every time he needs to use his power, it can be deduced that he’s using impact to create those explosions. Which leads us into our next section,

How would he control his power?

Going with ‘impact’ as the match to the gasoline raises two problems for Bakugou, though. One, he canonically has way more control over his power than scientifically possible, and Two, this boy is a very short-tempered one. Adding his easy-to-anger personality to this (very literally) explosive quirk would be a huge safety issue to both him and everyone around him. Having control over the blasts is possible, but it’d take effort.

So, first off, he would have to fix his anger issues and learn to not hit or slam his hands on the nearest item when something goes wrong. Along with this, he would have to avoid getting in the middle of fights as well (unless he means to use his quirk in it). He might be the most peaceful Bakugou possible, but that won’t stop an explosion from getting slapped.

He’d also need to wear thin but tight long sleeves and pants in order to absorb and dilute the nitroglycerin, making it less likely to explode on unavoidable impacts. 

Now, to address the few options he has that provide at least some for of control over the explosions. 

Initially, snapping seemed like the obvious solution. Not to say that it isn’t an option, since it would work to activate the nitroglycerin in his hand, and if he was snapping while flicking his wrist for more control, then it’d be a totally viable option. The problem comes up when looking for actual damage to be done to the opponent. Snapping his fingers close to them would be enough to stun an enemy, but the power of the explosions he could potentially make measures around the strength of the first two firecrackers from this video.

The next step I took in researching this was finding a directional way for him to clap, in order to exhibit some stronger results than the snap. (Though heads up, even at maximum power, he would not be able to naturally make the huge explosions he does in the show. The gauntlets he has though might be able to help him do that.)

There were many ways for him to, essentially, clap in order to get his blast in the intended direction, but almost all of them require at least a paragraph of explanation in order to get the idea across sans imagery. There is one that came to me almost immediately; it’s from a theater game called Zip Zap Zop. This video demonstrates the clap pretty well. 

With the impact of his fingers on his palm, the majority of the nitroglycerin would be on the palm, therefore igniting it and allowing it to go in a specific direction as he slides his exploding hand forward. 

Sweating Nitroglycerin???

So this part of the research was a lot harder than literally any of the rest of it because in every diagram I found, the sweat glands weren’t connected to anything. Literally no website I went to explained where specifically the sweat glands got their ingredients. This resulted in me taking an alternate route. 

Sweat is the body’s way of disposing of waste and maintaining a steady temperature (woop woop homeostasis), and it consists mostly of water and salt. Sweat glands are also found all throughout the body, hence Bakugou needing to dilute all the sweat with fabric before the excess sweat becomes a real problem. 

Since the “research” was a lot of roughly-averaged math based on conflicting information, the answer is tentative, but generally, yes, it is possible for him to sweat nitroglycerin. The natural implication of it into his body is a separate thing, but if you replace all the water in his body with a 2 parts water 1 part nitroglycerin mixture, his body should hold up along with the nitroglycerin. Surprisingly, it holds it’s chemical make-up holds its own pretty well in the face of water.

Bonus science fact that came out of this section: if the 2/1 water/nitroglycerin mixture was what was flowing through his veins, along with his sweat, his pee and spit would also be explosive. So would the water from his showers or baths since the nitroglycerin would be mixed into it. 

Would he be deaf?

Just going to preface this by saying I am obsessed with Deaf!Bakugou headcanons, oneshots, fics, and art because A, I love deaf representation so much, and B, it’s freaking accurate the show is lying to us he would 100% be deaf and here is why-

According to the National Institute of Deafness and Other Communication Disorders, hearing loss due to exposure to sounds can begin at 85 decibels or higher. To put this in perspective, the NIDCD says that heavy traffic averages at 85 decibels and firearms average around 150 decibels. 150 decibels is also the estimated bursting point for eardrums.

It’s difficult to estimate how powerful his explosions are, but I’m going to use an ‘average pistol’ for this research. I am doing this because firearms use mini explosions in order to fire the bullet, and an average pistol is just an average place to start. A .22 LR pistol falls around 152 decibels. 

Next, instead of going through all the calculations to see how large this explosion is in comparison to his would-be hand explosions, I decided to convert the mass of the bullet to liters (which is what I have his sweat measured in) and see how the two numbers compare. The bigger the number, the more explosive matter there is and the larger the explosion. 

Bakugou sweats roughly .21 liters per hour, based on research on how much people sweat averagely during exercise and having him be on the upper end since he’d be working out hard in order to use his quirk and have actual impact. When speaking of a .22 caliber bullet, the measurements fall around 3.1 grams. Converting that, we get .0031 liters. This number is obviously too small to compare with the caliber of explosions Bakugou is letting off. In fact, bakugou’s explosions are more than 70 times that. 

The (insane) difference between the two number shows us that Bakugou’s explosions will produce a lot more sound than that of a simple pistol. Instead of being just deaf, his eardrums would be nonexistent. HIs explosions’ sound might not be to the same ratio as the intensity but still.. hopefully he looses his hearing gradually over time as his explosions get more powerful, because otherwise, that’d be extremely painful.

(Please note that this section was written before I found these blueprints showing his headpiece as having earplugs, though he would still have significant hearing loss from the explosions he does even when he’s not wearing those.)

Could his skin take the constant damage?

The explanation for this section is less scientific and more of a theoretical hypothesis. There is also a second theory I have that helps defend this question, but I’m probably going to make that its own post. (If I do I’ll come back and link it here.)

Anyways, I think he just used simple endurance training.

It might seem random but the chances that his skin just built up strength over the years of constant, slowly growing damage being done to them. We already know his power grows as he does, and we know that he did use it as a child, so it just got used to it. Sort of like calluses from monkey bars. 

Going off of that assumption, it’s reasonable to think that at first, with his small pops, his hands’ skin was hurt but quickly grew back thicker and stronger. Because that’s how the body works when it’s hurt. When you burn your skin, it grows back with a different texture because it has been burned and it trying to prevent that damage from happening again. So if he’s been slowly building up his skins’ resistance to the explosions, he should be generally alright at this point.

Please remember this is just a theory written without much knowledge f burning skin and not a recommendation. Do not try this at home. :)

Conclusion

Scientific Bakugou:

Whenever he needs to use his quirk, he either claps, snaps, or hits the object he’s aiming for.

In order to avoid accidental explosions, he avoids sharp, impactful movements (smacking, hitting, or slamming things.)

He normally wears thin, lightweight long sleeves along with generally snug pants in order to absorb the excess sweat on his body for his safety and others.

When he sweats, he’s sweating a mixture of nitroglycerin and water. 

His spit and pee are also explosive. 

His hearing is gone completely once he hits highschool, as his explosions reach well over 150 decibels on a regular basis.

The skin on his hands has (possibly) built up burn-calluses from the explosions over the years, growing in strength as the explosions do. It still hurts but the nerve damage is enough to prevent it from being too painful.

Canon Bakugou:*

Whenever he needs to use his quirk, he somehow charges the nitroglycerin in his hand via concentration. ?

In order to avoid accidental explosions, he tries to keep control over his nerves, since that seems to be what causes him to loose control and accidentally release some pops.

He normally wears loose fitting pants and a tank top because apparently he does not fear science.

When he sweats, he's sweating nitroglycerin.

His spit and pee might be explosive but are probably not.

His hearing is just fine with barely any noticeable damage at all, despite the decibels he is constantly being exposed to.

The skin on his hands is normal and undamaged. (Bonus science inconsistency is that he wears gloves in his hero costume, which would mute his power completely. If he even managed to make an explosion in those things, they seem to be explosion resistant, so it'd do more damage to him than anything/one else.)

*I think it should be noted that canon Bakugou's power seems to be tied to his emotions, which I only noticed as I was writing this.

Outro

Despite how long it took, I really had a lot of fun with this project. I’m tempted to make this into a series, possibly doing Creati / Yao-Momo next. I also have a few things I mentioned in the post above that might be part two, three, four, etc.s to this post, but going in the direction of further exploring Bakugou’s abilities. Still need help on deciding which part two option to focus on first though. 

Possible part two’s include: 

another post like this but shorter and about his gauntlets (and hero costume in general, this would probably go more in depth on what he wears in general as well)

a post like this that follows up on my rising question of ‘could he actually control the explosions with neither of the triggers of nitroglycerin’ and going into what other explosive he’d have to use in order to have that chemical interact with the ones flowing through his system (i.e. hormones and nerves-)

a follow up on the fact that I didn’t actually complete the research on his hands being able to / not able to withstand all the explosions over the years

a post dedicated to my mini-theory about bnha having one consistent mutation over everyone who has a quirk

Also the art in the deaf!bakugou section doesn’t have a signature on it and when I reverse image searched it the only account I could find that possibly made it was @maelstrom-prince. So much freaking respect to whoever made it though, I freaking love blueprints for fictional things.