sligocreekbirdingchallenge2021

[blackgumball]

need a life altering but very short love story with a tragic ending to happen to me NEOW

[moon7jay]

i would KILL for a hearing non-con but like in public, at a restaurant or something so public kink x somnophilia kink (?) pretty please

Don't let them hear you (p.sh)

Warnings : non consensual, stalking, public sex, chikan, exhibitionism, voyeurism, dub con(?), just pure filth

THIS WORK CONTAINS NON CONSENSUAL THEMES SUCH AS RAPE

if u still proceed to read I take 0 responsibility

"He's still looking" You whispered in to your phone, trying not to make it obvious to the man sitting 3 tables across from you that you had caught him staring at you like a creep.

"Babes maybe he just finds you attractive" your best friend answered and that option would have been viable if it wasn't for the eerie feeling you got from the said man.

"No you don't understand syd, I'm pretty sure I saw him earlier in the cafe today"

"at your part time?"

"Yes! and I've seen him there a couple more times before and he's always maintaining this weird eye contact with me it's so creepy" You said urgently, trying not to raise your voice more than an octave while simultaneously trying not to look in his direction. He was still staring at you, you could feel his dark eyes on your face.

"You do know that it's the most famous cafe around town right? Besides its so close to the university maybe he's just a random college student?" she tried to reason.

Maybe she was right. Maybe you were reading too much into the situation and maybe he really was a random stranger who happened to be around you most of the time by a stroke of coincidence. You looked up momentarily and met his eyes, a jarring shiver running down your spine when he stared back blankly, sipping on his coffee, his headphones hanging around his neck, gaze focused intensely on you. You tried to shake off the unsettling feeling creeping up in your chest and managed a small, polite smile in his direction. Maybe he was just someone who had a crush on you and needed some encouragement to talk? And if you were being honest..he was insanely gorgeous, that was the main reason you had noticed him at the cafe before.

What you weren't expecting was for him to go stiff in his seat and break eye contact. You watched in confusion and worry as he slammed his coffee down on the table and stood up, eyes downcast, hurrying towards the other side of the restaurant. You felt disrespected and confused while you watched his retreating figure. What the fuck was his problem??

"You still there? Y/n? What's happening?" syd's voice brought you back to the conversation at hand.

"Idk I smiled at him and he just...left, so weird" you whispered to her and she cackled

"Men" she snickered and you chuckled, finally breathing in relief now that he wasn't around and breathing down your neck

"Men" You laughed back, stirring the conversation onto the other topics while you finished your meal.

your phone dinged while you were waiting for your bus to arrive, the phone number was unknown, weird, you thought.

Your blood ran cold when you read the first sentence, a couple more messages flooding in one after another.

[Unknown]

[9:34] : your smile is so pretty, had to rub one out in the restaurant's washroom baby

[9:34] : can't wait anymore

[9:35] : you're mine you know, I just need to show it to you

[9:36] : fuck i know you're reading my msgs, r they turning u on?

What the actual fuck?

You cupped your mouth with your palm and turned off your phone, looking around frantically, the panic rising in your chest, but you saw no one around and it creeped you out more.

A relieved sigh left your mouth when you saw your bus pulling over, hurriedly getting inside and squeezing through the crowd, moving past pressing bodies to reach the end of the bus, leaning against the glass window and panting with the exertion and relief of finally being in a safe space, scanning the crowd to see if he was there.

The bus doors closed and you finally stood up properly, your shoulders relaxing, turning around to look out the window while u held onto the strap handles on the ceiling.

What a fucking weirdo, you thought. How did he even get your number? had he been stalking you all this time? How had you been so slow in noticing him?

you felt him before you saw him, his large hand coming up to engulf yours on the strap handle you were holding, pressing his body closer to your behind. Your chest constricted in acute fear, the position was so uncomfortable that you tried moving forward to create some space between you two, leaving the strap handle and pressing yourself closer to the glass windows, holding on to one of the seat handles instead. This can't be happening, how did you not see him get on the bus, your hands started sweating.

You knew you were in trouble when he shamelessly invaded your space again, both hands looping through your waist to rest against your stomach while he buried his nose in your hairs , inhaling deeply.

Your breathing became heavy, your nerves making you freeze. You looked around and realized that the bus was too crowded for anyone to notice anything inappropriate, with the way he was holding you, you almost looked like a couple. Almost.

Your eyes met an elderly man's and you were about to open your mouth to scream for help when you yelped from feeling a sharp object dig into your side. Your blood ran cold.

"Don't even think about it" he whispered. His voice was deep and husky, sending a shiver down your spine. You stilled, facing forward to not provoke him. He was so much bigger than you, his body practically covering yours. You did not want to die here tonight. He wasn't going to kill you was he? Would anyone ever find out what happened to you if he did? Tears started to gather in your eyes when you felt his hands squeezing around your body, touching and groping u like u were meat.

"U think anyone would care? look around you, these are all men sweetheart, they would probably jerk off while you cry for me" He chuckled condescendingly in your ear, his one hand moving up towards your chest, groping your boobs harshly, a gasp leaving your trembling lips at his actions. A satisfied groan left his chest at feeling you, his fingers digging into your mounds.

"so fucking big, ever fucked a cock between them baby?" He asked and a sob left your lips at his words. No one had ever talked to you this way before. It was making you feel so dirty, a weird feeling rising inside your chest.

He chuckled at sensing your discomfort, running his hands down your body, leaving your boobs and groping your ass through your skirt, lifting it above your rear cheeks, basically exposing your bottom half to the entire bus if someone were to look over.

"ever taken a dick in this gorgeous ass? fucked back on a dick while it pounded your tight hole?" He groaned, groping your hips and connecting his lower region to your ass, his actions pushing you forward to press against the glass. You pressed your hands against the window to gain some balance, the position giving him leverage to rut into your behind.

"mhmmfuck do u feel how excited you make me? " He asked groaning in your ear, running his tongue against it while his hard cock poked your ass repeatedly as he grinded against you. You could feel that he was big, a disgusted shiver ran down your body when you realised how violating this all was. But at the same time, a sick tingling feeling was beginning to throb between your legs.

"Take your panties off" He whispered and you thought you heard him wrong.

"w-what" You sobbed quietly, dreading what this was leading to, his fingers flexed impatiently at your sides, his hips moving against youu in a subtle grind.

"I said fucking take them panties off, you won't need them soon anyways" your hands shook as you slowly reached under your skirt to slide your panties off your legs, the implication of his words wasn't lost on you.

"fuck yeah" He groaned, snatching the lace fabric from your hands. You shivered feeling the cold air run between your legs, cursing yourself mentally for opting out of wearing pants today, more tears ran down your cold cheeks.

Slurping sounds reached your ears and you closed your eyes, trying to drown out the sounds of him licking into your panties. The sounds were so lewd, you wanted to puke. This can't be happening to you. The movements of his hips became fast, muffled moans coming out of his mouth while he rotated his hips to search more friction for his throbbing cock against your bare ass.

"You smell like sex you know? Taste like fucking peaches, so fucking perfect" He panted, burying his face in your underwear.

you could hear his excitement in your ear and it was starting to affect your body in a way that disgusted you. The moisture was beginning to gather in your pussy, body heating up from the assault.

"fuck this shit" You heard him curse and he pulled away from you, dangling sound of a belt being undone and pants being unzipped made your body shake in anticipation of the oncoming violation of your body. It was going to happen. You were going to be raped. More hot tears spilled over your cheeks, a sob building up in your throat.

"Name's sunghoon, remember that while I tear your pussy apart" he whispered.

"P-Please" You sobbed quietly even though you had no hope left when he was pressing his body into you again, a hot and heavy organ digging between your thighs.

"p-please no, please stop, I'll do anything" you sobbed again, a sharp gasp leaving your throat when he rubbed his cockhead against your entrance, gathering your slick.

"you're wet as fuck for me baby-shit-u like getting raped on subways yeah?" he chuckled, hissing through his teeth when he finally breached your opening, tearing through your cunt, impaling you on his monster cock roughly. A sharp pain tore through you, your pussy unable to adjust to the harsh entry, he was too big for you. You scratched against the glass window, resting your forehead against it to find some support as you sobbed in pain.

His mouth found your ear again and he started to thrust in you, groans of satisfaction leaving his lips upon feeling the tight clench of your warm pussy.

"dreamed of raping your cunt since the first time i saw you in that cafe baby" he panted, his words confirming your suspicions about him, but what use was that suspicion when you couldn't even protect yourself? His dick lodged itself into your womb again and again, a reminder of your foolishness.

"always so pretty, wanted to open your legs and fuck into you while everyone watched, that guy that works with you? He wants your pussy too, that fucker" He groaned and snapped his hips into you harder, a pained sob ripped through you again. Jake? No.. Jake was a sweetheart, he would never think about you like that.. . He would never -

"You're so unaware of the effect you have on men's dicks aren't you baby? - jesus fuck- if given the chance, everyone here would bury their dicks in this slutty pussy, raping it till they're satisfied" He groaned, chuckling condescendingly, as if mocking your naive nature with the constant pistoning of his hips into your cunt.

"pussy so good, so fucking tight and creamy mhmmn" he moaned into your ear in pleasure, more slick ran down your legs, your lower body burning up in arousal now, a sick pleasure running through your body as his dick kept bumping your cervix. His hands travelled inside your shirt and groped your breasts roughly and painfully, holding onto them for leverage while he thrusted into you like a madman.

"Oh fuck yeah, jerked off to this image so many times baby, fucked into my fucking fist imagining it was your cunt"

Your eyes closed, unable to stop yourself from moving your hips back on him, it was instinct, or maybe some sick part of you was enjoying this. Tears ran down your eyes again, but for an entirely different reason now.

"fuck yeah baby - he laughed in disbelief, his thrusts getting deeper now that you were meeting his hips halfway - fuck back on me like a fucking slut"

Your bodies found a rhythm and a lewd moan left your lips as the pleasure started clouding your brain.

"Yeah? Raping this pussy so good huh?" he panted, hot heavy breaths falling against the side of your face, his eyes rolling back in pleasure due to the insane friction of your lower bodies.

The sound of slick squelching and skin slapping was reaching your ears and you looked around to see if anyone could see you both. Your eyes met the elderly man's from before but this time his stare was different. A jolt of pleasure ran through you when you saw him squeezing his cock through his pants while he watched you getting violated.

You slammed yourself back on the dick that was moving in and out of you faster while you watched the lewd sight. Your hand moved down to lift your shirt up and bite its hem into your mouth so that your entire body was exposed. Your boobs already spilling out of your bra cups, being held onto by sunghoon who was fucking into your greedy cunt.

A sick satisfaction washed over you when you watched the elderly man haphazardly unzip his pants and slip his hand inside, his eyes watching your body get used and violated, his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

"Yeah that's right baby, show him what he's missing out on, show him how u like to get raped by random men's cocks like a real slut" sunghoon groaned , his eyes catching onto the scene your gaze was pivoted to.

A gasp left your lips when you felt sunghoon shift your body to the side so that it was facing halfway towards the man while still being hidden from the rest of the passengers. He lifted your right leg and held it up, holding it from under your knee, spreading you out, giving the pervert man a fucking show.

"Now he can see how my dick moves in and out of your creamy cunt, raping it so good that you're making a mess-shit baby just like that" He panted in your ear, his hips snapping harshly into yours. Your eyes met the old man's again and you moaned upon seeing his hand moving faster and faster inside his pants, drool falling from his lips.

fuck why was this so hot, what was fucking wrong with you??

Your hips moved back into sunghoon's, cunt slamming down on his dick, grinding and fucking back cuz your brain was broken, the thought of cumming overwhelmed your senses, your pussy leaking gallons of slick, making the act of penetration more pleasurable for the both of you. Sex getting messier and nastier.

"keep fucking it baby-holy shit- you need to keep fucking that dick, just like that oh yeah" His breathing was becoming heavy, your mouth was panting, working your body faster and faster to chase that friction on his dick.

His one hand left your chest and travelled down your body to rub your engorged clit, a sharp moan leaving your lips, making him slap you on the clit harshly.

"Don't let them hear u, or do u wanna get gang raped- he groaned, feeling your pussy clench at the thought- is that what u want? what a greedy little cunt" He chuckled hotly, licking into your ear cavity.

His thumb rubbed your swollen clit, making the knot in your stomach tighten, you were so fucking close. Your eyes met the old man's while sunghoon's thrusts became sloppy, his groans getting whinier , the pleasure getting too much for your tangled sweaty bodies. His pelvis met your ass in a few more harsh thrusts, his balls slapping the underside of your thighs

"You're gonna make me fucking cum, yeah fuck yeah make me fucking cum baby" He groaned, his high so close you could feel yours approaching too.

"cum cum cum, gonna cum in you, gonna take you raw, fuck my babies in that cunt, fuck jesus-ughmhmmm- his words cut off as his hips stilled , his dick spurting cum inside of you, your own eyes rolled back upon seeing the old man cum in his pants like a freak, your pussy clenched harshly around sunghoon's dick, milking him for all that he was worth as you came all around him, making him ride his orgasm.

"Shit yeah, feels so motherfucking good" He moaned, pushing his hips deeper into you, fucking his cum back into your cunt, breeding into you. His hold on your body loosened and his dick slid out of you with a pop when you heard your stop approaching. He shoved the panties in your hands and you instantly wore them back, adjusting your shirt and skirt while he watched, his zip still open and cock still hanging out, his hand fisting it to overstimulation, a pained hiss leaving his lips at how good it felt.

You turned around to meet his eyes and watch him jerk off his cock harshly, biting on his lower lip, pressing against your body again, his brows furrowed in pleasure, hot breaths falling on your face.

Your pussy was starting to heat up again, seeing pure carnal pleasure on his face was driving you insane, god what had he done to you?

He slammed his lips into yours and licked into your hot mouth while his hand continued to fist his dick, trying to make himself cum again. He groaned at your taste, his movements becoming faster. He pulled back from the kiss to rest his forehead against yours and stuck his tongue out, just a millimetre away from your lips. As if on instinct, you stuck your own tongue out to meet the tip of his, moaning at the feeling, rubbing your tongues against each other while he jerked off, saliva dripping down your chins.

When you sucked his tongue into your mouth, you felt his body jerk rapidly, pleasure overtaking his senses as he groaned into your mouth and came all over his hands, finally pulling away from you, sighing in relief and satisfaction.

The bus had reached your stop, coming slowly to a halt but before you could move to leave, he was bringing his cum covered hand to your lips "lick it clean" he whispered and you met his dark eyes, maintaining eye contact while your tongue snuck out to eat his cum out of his hands, moaning at the taste.

"Fuck" he cursed at the sight, watching as you licked his hand clean and finally walked away from him, licking your mouth clean with your fingers.

You were his perfect match.

[rosewaterandivy]

murder on the dancefloor

summary: eddie and princess see Saltburn

pairing: e.m. x film teacher!reader

warnings: cursing, tomfoolery, potential spoilers for the film (idk it’s vague), you can view the trailer here

a/n: consider this my ringing endorsement for any emerald fennell film - her brain is just 🤯

series m.list | playlist | currently spinning:

Eddie was positively buzzing.

Not even the little shits in Jazz 1 could ruin his day, not today.

You had scored tickets to a pre-screening of Saltburn followed by a Q & A with the director; it was only his most anticipated film of the year, no big deal. Never mind that you’d already seen it with your students at the film festival in October. Of course, your advanced classes loved it, the animation students, however, were wholly unprepared.

“What the fuck,” was the refrain of a few more sheltered students for the duration of the festival.

Sadly, ever since news of your relationship became public (no thanks to Harrington and his big mouth), Hopper put his foot down as far as Eddie’s chaperoning duties were concerned.

“Absolutely not Munson.”

“C’mon chief,” Eddie sighed in Hopper’s office, “I did the film festival trip last year and it was completely fine. Half the kids are in my classes anyway. Plus, I already did the transportation training and everything.”

Hopper stares at him blankly, “Congrats on doing the bare minimum.” He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, “Look, I like having a qualified film teacher with real world experience, d’you know how difficult that is to find?”

Well, Eddie certainly can’t argue with that.

“And I assume you like her as well?”

“Obviously.”

“The fact of the matter is, you two weren’t an item last year but you are now.”

Eddie briefly hearkens back to last year, and, true, the pair of you weren’t exactly an item, but you definitely weren’t ascetics either. Not that Hopper needs to know that, of course.

“And you know how difficult it was with Harrington and Trouble.” He sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, “I’d rather not live through that experience again, if I can help it. So, no dice.”

Eddie resigned himself to his fate: no chaperoning of film activities and the same went for you with jazz ensemble. (“Right,” you snorted at the news, “Like I’d ever be caught dead with those nerds.”)

But that was then and this is now.

So when Wheeler, the little shit, asks while putting up his instrument, “What’s got you in such a good mood today Mr. M.?” The last thing Eddie wants to do is respond.

“None’ya.”

The rest of the day unfolds in much the same way— too many bathroom passes for no goddamn reason, students asking him inane questions instead of listening to directions, and the Hellfire kids getting on his last nerve.

“And then, after this campaign—” Dustin rambles on while Eddie suffers through afternoon bus duty. He’s got his sunglasses on in an attempt to block the late autumn sun, kids are hanging out of bus windows to wave at their friends and he really wishes the bus drivers would lurch forward, just a little, purely to keep things interesting.

Besides, it’s not like most of the kids couldn’t do with a good knock to the head.

Anyway, he’s essentially ignoring Dustin at this point, besides he can critique the finer details of his campaign later. He’s been glued to Eddie’s side since the final bell, and Eddie’s been counting down the minutes to 4:30 so he can get the hell out of dodge.

princess 👸: hey stud, how’s it going?

wild thing 😜: eh, the usual.

princess 👸: you’ve been quiet in the chat today.

wild thing 😜: kids were annoying today. plus i can see trouble and steve argue back at home.

princess 👸: lucky you, i wouldn’t know anything about that - we were watching quality cinema.

wild thing 😜: bladerunner?

princess 👸: uh, doi. meet you at the theater, say 6:30 ish?

wild thing 😜: it’s a date.

He opens up the group chat to see what he missed— mostly memes from Steve, Trouble arguing the finer points of a prank with Robin (it can’t be either a feather in their shoe or hitting them with a ski, bucks. there’s an art to it, a happy medium if you will.), and Nancy telling everyone to get back to work and stop bothering her.

The last bus finally pulls away from the school, bringing an end to his afternoon duty. Pocketing his phone, he claps Dustin on the shoulder and the teen halts his rambling. “Sounds good kid, but I gotta bounce.”

“Why, you gotta hot date or something?”

Eddie huffs a laugh, “Sure, let’s go with that.”

The theater is positively packed.

You met him at the bar, already having ordered his preferred stout and a drink for yourself. It had been a hectic few weeks, what with your film festival trip and the jazz competitions on the weekends, Eddie hadn’t had the opportunity to see you outside of work.

But your outfit more than made up for it, you looked down right delectable. Those ripped jeans that he adored because if he sat to your right, he could easily slip his hand through the tear at your thigh, a cropped ‘Directed by Stanley Kubrick’ shirt, and your usual black docs. Leaning against the bar to chat with the bartender, you didn’t even notice him approach until Eddie’s hand wrapped around your hip.

“Hey now,” He says with a smile, rings cool against the bit of skin above the rise of your jeans.

Smiling and ducking your chin bashfully you take a sip from your drink, “Hey now.” Your free hand finds his, tangling your finger together, “Got your usual,” you nod toward the drink on the bartop.

“Thanks, doll,” He drags you closer by the belt loops, “How’s the arm?”

You glance toward your left arm, turning it to brandish your newest acquisition. An addition to your horror sleeve, Ada from Lamb, complete with her coat and flowercrown, looking damn adorable. You’d justified it as being worthy as an example of folk-horror and had sat for the tattoo after your return from the film festival.

“Eh, still healing at the elbow crease, but other than that she’s good.”

He nods taking a sip from his beer. “She looks it.”

Making idle conversation until the theater opens up, you fill him in on the goings on of the film students: Reese was out sick again (“Another kidney stone. I swear to god, that girl needs to drink some actual water instead of those shitty energy drinks.”), practicum had somehow lost their footage for their competition film (“Not my problem, they know better by now.”), and team-building with Minecraft.

Eventually, you drift toward the theater and take your seats. You’re quick to shuck the flannel you’d been sporting around your waist, “You left this at mine, by the way.”

“Is that so?”

“You sly fuck,” you chuckle, setting it in your lap, “You think you’re really somethin’, huh?”

“Uh, I don’t think so, I know so sweetheart.”

“Right, right,” you play along, “When will the government stop you? No one man should have all this power.” You gesture vaguely to his, well, everything.

The lights dim in the theater and the audience falls to a hush. Eddie holds your hand across the armrest, your fingers playing with his rings every so often. You’d been characteristically mum about Saltburn, other than saying he’d love it because “you’re a freak like me, just go with it.” Had even roped the kids into stonewalling him too, even El and Will would not crack for love or money.

To be fair, you had seen some fucked up shit in your time— Salo, Audition, anything Cronenberg, Cannibal Holocaust, and then you’d accidentally saw that snuff film one time and needed a full 24 hours to recover from the shame of it all. You’re generally one of the few able to give him a run for his money, though his movie tastes tended to gravitate toward horror and cult classics. The common ground between you was Stanley Kubrick’s work, the final nail in the coffin being the Christmas Eve showing of Eyes Wide Shut you’d invited him to, promptly fucking his brains out afteward.

Considering that the preshow offerings ranged from 2006 Britpop music videos played in between previews from Remains of the Day, The Servant, Parasite, and Cruel Intentions, he was thinking this weekend would play out similarly to that night. And he did not mind one bit.

“So,” you coyly ask afterward, pinkie looped through his as you walk out of the theater, “Tell me your thoughts Munson,” a tantalizing bite to your full bottom lip, “Are you more of a bathtub drain, vampire, or grave dirt kind of guy?”

“That is so out of pocket, babe,” He laughs, slinging an arm over your shoulder, “Because you,” he thumbs at your nose, “Already know the answer to that.”

You hum contendly, unclipping the keys from your beltloop. “So, all of the above then? Good choice.”

“Yeah? I thought so.” He pulls you close for a kiss, crashing his lips over yours, sliding his tongue— sweet and heavy with promise into the space of your mouth. Everything is hot, burning like coals against his skin. Your breath, lips, chest, and legs pressed so temptingly against him— even the little pads of your fingertips scorch right through him.

Eddie hisses when your nails dig into his back, scratching down until you reach the sliver of skin at the base of his spine, fingers trailing against the juts of bone there.

He gasps when you pull back with a dreamy sigh, and you look up at him in a daze. “So, you have competitions this weekend?” you ask, tongue darting out to wet your lips.

“Unfortunately,” Eddie says with a wince. “Can’t give you the whole tour of pound town tonight, darlin’, we leave early tomorrow moring.”

“Ugh,” your head falls to his chest as your arms wrap around his waist giving a tight squeeze, “Well, in that case, be safe.”

“Be good.”

“Ha,” you say stepping back, “Miss me with that bullshit.”

Eddie laughs, “Yeah, in my fuckin’ dreams, right? You’re a disaster.”

At that, you merely stick out your tongue and cross your eyes before slipping into your car. You wave before pulling out of the parking lot.

Later, back at the loft, Eddie texts you already knowing you’re more than likely already asleep.

wild thing 😜: i’d gladly guzzle your bathwater any day babe, ay yo lemme slurp that good good

princess 👸: says the guy so far up my ass, he’s coming out of my mouth…

wild thing 😜: not quite sweetheart, but that can def be arranged

princess 👸: you’re a fucking idiot, go to bed assclown 😘

[raylangivins]

still working through my backlog of tags. thank you @acorrespondence for tagging me in things :)

1. comfort character tag game

not to show my age but i don’t know wtf the kids mean by comfort character. i just listed some all time faves because it brings me comfort to think of how fucked up they are :)

raylan givens (justified), duh

brian o’conner (fast and furious movies)

addy hanlon (dare me--book version moreso than tv version)

betty cooper (riverdale)

pacey witter (dawson’s creek--the only one here who i think could be described as a comfort character for the reasons i assume people made up the term)

2. ao3 first lines tagline

Rules: Share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written fewer than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway (spoiler alert: rules are made to be broken…)

look. i’ve been exclusively writing beatles rpf for the last year, so we’re all gonna have to either acknowledge it or Pretend You Do Not See, alright.

1. “What’s got you all quiet?” Robert asks him in the bathroom.

Paul realises he’d zoned out, staring blankly at Robert, bent over the sink, snorting a line.

2. John takes a long inhale of smoke as he watches Paul talking to one of the camera guys outside. His breath fogs up the bus window a bit, the evening air causing a cloud of condensation to spread, blurring Paul and the camera guy to nothing. When it shrinks back to dribbles of moisture, Paul’s hands are moving—explaining a shot, or a scene, or a fucking dream he had that he’d like this poor sod to turn into reality.

3. Paul can't pinpoint exactly where his night deteriorated, but it was probably somewhere after Brian left The Cavern for the evening, and Neil had driven away with all their gear, and John—realising that they'd lost the closest thing they had to adult supervision—loftily announced that he was getting married tomorrow and so everyone should buy him pints about it.

4. John doesn't notice him at first, engaged in answering a question for the crowd of journalists in front of him. Paul's half-hidden among the shelves anyway, peeking over to get a good look at John in his element.

5. John's not sure how they get onto the topic. They're in the canteen—just the two of them for the moment—talking in circles around each other, under the guise of talking about George, edging towards an argument but never really landing there. Just half-chastising, and half-imploring each other to be different people entirely without really saying it. And then, suddenly, they're talking about it.

6. "Here," John hisses at Paul and yanks him unceremoniously into a utility closet, letting Paul slam the door shut behind them.

7. Paul shows up late to their show. He makes it to the Jacaranda by the skin of his teeth, just as some fragile, spiteful thing in John is gearing up to lash out at anyone who'll listen that they don't need the bastard anyway. It's unlike Paul to be late, which makes it annoying enough, considering how much he'd whine about it if it were any of the rest of them, but then he has the gall to say it's because he was doing something for his dad.

8. After the Bob Wooler incident—the first but not last time Jane questions Paul’s association with the likes of John Lennon—Paul tells her: “He can be quite lovely when you get to know him.”

9. Paul feels lazy and warm as he sucks in another drag of the spliff John rolled them. He closes his eyes as he exhales. It only serves to heighten his sluggish senses. He could fall asleep like this, lost in the sensations of his lovely geodesic dome. He can feel every thread of the rug they're lying on; can hear Martha's soft snores from where she sleeps, her head pillowed on John's ankle. The sprinkling of sunlight leaking in through the leaves of the trees, outside, creates some sort of greenhouse effect—the air around them muggy and mellow. Paul could float away, if not for the grounding warmth of John's arm, pressed next to his. The true north, reminding him where his body is.

10. "You're like Julian with a new bloody toy," John says to him from somewhere on the couch.

Paul doesn't know why he's complaining. He's the one who asked about it, after Paul mentioned the new camera.

tagging for either one: @wurmzirkus, @tulakhord, @tallahasseemp3, @softbrah, @itookyoudown, @magog83, @jeanharlowseyebrows, @indiekidsupremacist

[riahlynn101]

"Waiting in the Aftermath" (6).

Chapter 6

==

As a young child, Izuku tagged along with his mom while she ran errands. His dad was often away at work, and neither of his parents trusted anyone enough to watch him. 

Usually these errands were quick, like checking the mail, or seeing if their elderly neighbors needed anything. But once a week, like clockwork, his mom would force him into something that wasn’t an All Might onesie and comb back his curls. They would ride the bus from their neighborhood to the downtown area. There, they would get off to shop for groceries. 

He can’t remember what the store was called now, but it was very discrete, tucked in between a bookstore and diner. The windows were extremely dirty, almost unnaturally so, obscuring people’s view of the interior. And there was no sign to indicate what it was. 

But they went once a week. 

It was during one of these trips, Izuku was finally granted permission to look around while his mom shopped. He could have jumped for joy, but he hadn’t wanted his mom to change her mind. So, he scurried off to look at the various displays - never touching anything, because he was scolded enough by his mom and dad to remember to keep his hands to himself. 

At some point, while looking at the All Might action figures on a high shelf, he had been picked up. The action was sudden, and he hadn’t heard his mother come to collect him. He looked up at his mother, a little confused as to why she wasn’t saying anything. Only to come face-to-face with a nicely dressed woman with graying hair and dull blue eyes. 

Upon noticing him staring at her, she shushed him.

Izuku screamed for his mom. He was incredibly shy at that age, especially around strangers, and the woman was setting off all his alarm bells. 

He remembers the woman scowling, shaking him slightly. “Shut up,” she hissed, starting to walk towards the front of the store. 

Izuku had continued crying loudly for his mom, squirming in the woman’s hold. 

“Excuse me,” his mom had said, making the woman freeze mid-step.

Izuku couldn’t describe the sheer relief he felt at his mom’s soft voice. The tears didn’t stop falling, but he wasn’t trembling all over. 

The woman took one look at his mom and started booking it for the door. 

She hadn’t made it. 

Izuku can’t exactly recall what happened next. Maybe it’s because he was so young, or because his mom refused to ever speak of it again. But one second he was in the lady’s arms and the next, he was back with his mom.

They never went back to that store again.

His mom of now, stands in the doorway of the laboratory. The doctor droops, lack of oxygen clearly getting to him. His father holds his hands up in a placating manner, trying to reason with her.

“Honey, please. Izuku is clearly fine. Come sit down, and I’ll explain everything.”

“Sit down? Sit down!? I don’t think I will! I’m taking Izuku, and we’re leaving!” 

Tomura goes to join the fray. Even disillusioned with All for One, he can’t help but defend him. It would strike Izuku as sad, except it’s hard to think at all. “Don’t talk to Sensei like that!”

Izuku watches the exchange in mute horror. He’s without a doubt seen worse, but something about seeing his own parents argue sets him on edge. The display is not something he’s ever witnessed, having been sheltered from any disagreements his parents had. 

He remains sitting on the examination table, staring blankly at the three adults (one of which is still in the process of being choked-out via “attraction”). Even as his mom calls out to him, telling him it’s time to go, he just stares. 

And it’s not for lack of trying. Izuku tries to move his body, or say something to calm everyone down, but he can’t. This only makes his worried mom angrier. Not at him, at least Izuku thinks it’s not at him. All the noise kind of mixes together, muffling. 

He itches the palm of one of his hands. Neither of them hurt anymore, which is a good thing (at least he thinks so). There’s a dull ache that comes and goes but it’s hardly noticeable. 

But the itch. The itch is terrible. 

It feels deeper than the surface of thin skin, deeper than flesh, sinew, or bone. He tries not to picture Shigaraki’s compulsive scratching while he itches at his palms. The torn, dry skin flashing into his mind, like a warning of what’s to come. Though, he thinks to himself, Shigaraki’s scratching seems more psychosomatic than caused by his actual quirk.

Izuku shifts, clenching his fists. If he can’t see the holes in his palms, then they don’t exist. He’s never met someone with a quirk that he didn’t think could be-in some part-used for good. Only those that choose to, or were forced to use their quirks for nefarious purposes.

But this quirk-his birth quirk-has no good. No matter what he chooses to do, it’s bad. At its core, it’s greed. Stealing something so precious from others - a piece of their personality, their soul. A rot that needs to sustain itself on misfortune. 

He inhales, the air whistles as it enters through the space between his front teeth. This isn’t fair. Why couldn’t he just be normal? To inherit a quirk that was neither flashy and prone to breaking his bones, or one that he can’t use in any circumstance lest he become a villain. Just something normal, like his mom’s minor attraction quirk.

He scratches at his palms (again), but the itch remains (again). He digs his blunt nails into the thin flesh of his palm. 

But the itch remains. 

-x-x-x-

Tomura stands faithfully next to his master. Angry as he is, and as much as he hates Sensei, the man did save him. He owes Sensei everything. 

Revenge can come later. 

The green-haired woman continues yelling over Sensei, the doctor still hanging limply off to the side (Tomura can’t help the satisfaction at seeing someone that experimented on him so utterly powerless). Despite the anger on her face, it’s evident she’s not made for anger. Her face is kind. 

( Like Midoriya’s).

His fingers flex, ready to attack at command. 

The woman (Inko, he thinks he hears Sensei call her) starts yelling for Izuku, telling him that they’re leaving. (Good luck with that). 

As Tomura watches her, he recalls his own mother. He knows he took his looks from her - his wavy hair, face shape, chin, and nose. She smelled like jasmine and fresh-baked cookies. She liked to rock him when he cried, and had the most beautiful smile. 

He shakes his head, willing the memories to slip beyond his grasp. Now is not the time. 

“Dear, please.” There’s something unintentionally hilarious about the situation, but Tomura can’t tell what it is. 

Midoriya’s mother glares daggers at Sensei, tightening her hold on the doctor’s collar. 

Tomura flexes his fingers, ready to attack at a moment’s notice. 

And then, as if a puppet having all its strings cut, the doctor falls unceremoniously to the floor. He coughs, rubbing at his neck. Next to him, Midoriya’s mother lands on her back, unconscious.

[tennessoui]

hello 👋 I was catching up on your tumblr like it's my weekly newspaper of choice and, um, if you ever fancied writing a snippet of obi wan getting the call after a concert about fire fighter anakin getting hurt it would be much appreciated 🥺

alright yes of course!!! i always try to give my asks whatever they want 🥺🥺🥺 here's a snippet of singer!obi-wan getting an 'anakin is hurt' call

(1.8k)

When Obi-Wan gets offstage, the first thing he does is check his phone. That’s what he’s been doing for months now, ever since he and Anakin started dating. It’s not like he can look at his phone onstage in front of all the people who paid to see Obi-Wan Kenobi, rock star. He has to wait, to not carry his phone with him at all up to the stage in order to triumph over the temptation of seeing what Anakin is doing right now, what silly thing he wants Obi-Wan to see.

It’s almost better like this. He gets offstage and he gets little presents from his boyfriend: horrifically cooked meals at the station, complaints about one of his coworkers’ new taste in music, awful jokes his sister has told him.

Tonight, there’s nothing.

He doesn’t think much about it though, not when he doesn’t have his boyfriend’s work schedule memorized. Sometimes the firefighters’ schedules shift on random days; someone calling out sick, someone available to cover a shift they weren’t assigned….It’s a big city, but a small firehouse. Obi-Wan isn’t worried.

Disappointed, maybe, that he doesn’t get to see Anakin’s twisted, disgusted face at Jesse’s attempt at dinner. Or his string of laughing text emojis to accompany a joke from Ahsoka. Disappointed, but not worried.

He chats with Kit and Quinlan the entire time back to his dressing room. The drummer thinks the opening song could use a little more rehearsal. The guitarist thinks it’s fine. Obi-Wan hadn’t heard anything definitively out of place, but he’s always alright with more rehearsal. He wants to give the best performance he can to the fans. It’s that simple.

He’s alone for a few minutes when he changes from his performance outfit into his normal clothes. It’s just after ten p.m.

He thinks about calling Anakin, as it’s only 8 in the evening in his city. Surely that’s too early to go to bed, even for a night off-shit. He thinks about it the entire time he’s changing into jeans and a t-shirt, the entire time he’s wiping off his stage make-up--nothing drastic of course, but just enough to be visible in the stage lights, just enough to look a little ghoulish in the warmer lights of the dressing room.

It doesn’t take much to break him, he’ll admit. He really, really likes Anakin. They’ve been dating for eight months now. He’s almost completely comfortable saying that he loves Anakin, but he doesn’t want to scare the other man off. Sometimes he thinks that everything he feels is too big and too dramatic for everyday life, that being in the spotlight from such a young age ruined him for anything private and selfish ever again.

But loving Anakin feels private, feels selfish. It feels right, amazing, like he’s a bandit robbing a small bank and just hopping on the train leaving town. It feels like he’s getting away with something he never should have even expected to have.

Anakin doesn’t pick up.

This too is excusable, as Obi-Wan hardly expects his boyfriend to wait by the phone, anticipating his call. Anakin’s messages during his concerts are gifts for a reason. They’re not mandatory, they’re unexpected.

Going into a serious relationship like this, they’d both understood the importance of their already established lives. Obi-Wan could no more give up a concert in favor of a call with Anakin as Anakin could go off shift and call Obi-Wan.

He packs the necessities he’d carried with him into the dressing room and looks around, if only to make sure he has everything and he’s not leaving too big of a mess.

Ahsoka calls him on his cell, when he’s halfway between his dressing room and the bus. He almost doesn’t pick up because he doesn’t have Ahsoka’s number saved into his contacts. But her city area code is the same as Anakin’s, and he picks up the call.

“Obi-Wan?” Ahsoka sounds like she’s half on the call and half not. “I couldn’t unlock Anakin’s phone, but I saw you were trying to call him.”

Obi-Wan pauses and leans against the wall. “Yes, I was,” he says slowly, his gut trembling with a bad feeling. “Why are you calling me, Ahsoka?” He hates sounding so abrupt, but he can’t help it. He needs to know. Perhaps Anakin is asleep, and Ahsoka is trying to ward off any further calls in order to let her brother sleep.

“Anakin’s in the hospital,” she says grimly and straightforwardly. Faintly, Obi-Wan thinks he can appreciate her no-nonsense attitude. She gets directly to the point, even though the point iis dangerously sharp.

“No,” Obi-Wan shakes his head, even as he slowly slides down the wall he’s against until he’s sitting on the floor. “No, he can’t be. I talked to him a few hours ago.”

“There was a call,” Ahsoka sounds so close to crying. No, Obi-Wan thinks. Impossible.

“But I just talked to him,” he says, clearing his throat. “I just….”

“There was a fire out on Temple Street,” she says thickly. “He’s in the hospital because a pillar fell on him. Trapped him in...in a burning house.”

Obi-Wan inhales sharply. If he hadn’t been sitting down already, he would have fallen to the ground. “But I--” I just talked to him, he thinks. As if it matters.

“He’s not critical anymore,” Ahsoka tells him. “But he’s still in surgery. Invasive, but. Not overly risky is what they told me.” She sniffles.

“I’m twenty hours away,” he says faintly.

“I know,” Ahsoka says into the phone. “I know. You’re almost on the other side of the country. But...they didn’t know to call you and I thought you needed to know.”

“I’ll be there as soon as possible,” Obi-Wan hears himself say. He needs to move. He needs to catch a plane. No matter expensive. He needs to get to the airport, get to Anakin.

Anakin’s hurt. Anakin needs surgery.

It’s Quinlan that finds him in the hallway, guitar slung over his back.

“Obi-Wan?” he asks, offering a hand out without explanation.

“Anakin’s in the hospital,” he says blankly, staring straight forward at the other wall. “He got hurt in a fire.”

“Then let’s get you there,” Quinlan replies instantly, pulling Obi-Wan up. “Come on. We’ll get you straight to the airport. I’ll tell the fans of the next concert.”

“We need to give them a refund,” Obi-Wan says distantly as he lets himself be led out to the tour bus. There are screams of fans, but it’s like he can’t even hear them. He’s underwater. Nothing matters as much. Nothing matters at all. Anakin needs surgery. Anakin’s in the hospital. Anakin’s hurt. He’s in the hospital. He needs surgery.

“We will,” Quinlan reassures him, leading him onto the bus. He tells the driver something harshly, quickly, and then not even a minute later, the wheels are in motion.

Anakin is in the hospital. Anakin had been hurt. He’d been in a building when it’d collapsed. How had Obi-Wan never even thought to worry about this? He worries about everything, but he’d never even thought of Anakin, of what Anakin’s career means. Sometimes he doesn’t get out. Sometimes Anakin doesn’t save the day. Who saves him?

Obi-Wan only realizes he’s making a weird noise with his throat when Quinlan clasps his hand. “We’re going to the airport,” he says with absolute surety. “We’ll get you to him, alright?”

Obi-Wan nods. What else is he supposed to do? He just talked to Anakin. He was fine then. How can someone go from fine to needing surgery in less than three hours?

He calls Ahsoka within the next fifteen minutes, as soon as it sinks in that this is happening. It doesn’t make sense, he can’t wrap his head around it, but it’s happening anyway. He’s ten minutes from the closest airport. Quinlan’s already got him a ticket. He’s coming. He’s almost there. He just...he needs to know Anakin is….that Anakin is……

“He’s still in surgery,” Ahsoka tells him softly. She sounds so small, so unsure. He’s only met her a handful of times, but he knows this tone does not belong anywhere close to her. “I don’t know, Obi-Wan. Please get here.”

Around the sixth hour after his concert ends, Obi-Wan cries. He leaves the official announcement to Quinlan, because he’s a coward. But he loves Anakin enough to type out a tweet anyway. It’s nothing too dramatic, nothing too honest either. There’s been an emergency. He’s sorry. He’s not sorry enough to not go, but he’s sorry enough to talk to fans. There’ll be a refund, maybe a rescheduling.

His entire life feels up in ends, but he talks about rescheduling. He doesn’t know what else to do. When the flight attendant tells him to turn his phone off, he puts it down until she’s passed by.

He looks out the window of the airplane and he can feel his tears soaking into his beard. Anakin is alright, he keeps telling himself. Anakin has to be okay. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Anakin isn’t okay.

It’s suddenly so amazingly clear to him that if Anakin were to--to not be alright--Obi-Wan’s life would never, ever be the same. Never. They’re intrinsically linked together. Why wasn’t he contacted when Anakin was first brought to the hospital? He needs to know this. He needs to know as soon as Anakin is hurt. He can’t stand the idea that Anakin had been injured halfway through his set, maybe at the end, maybe before it even started.

He needs to know as soon as it happens, if it ever happens again.

He never wants it to happen again. He never wants Anakin to be hurt, to be unresponsive, to be so far from him that Anakin’s sister has to let him know what’s going on.

He needs to be something different, something more. Something that makes everyone understand that he needs to be informed immediately when anything happens to Anakin, his Anakin. His….

Husband. Husband would work. If Anakin were to marry him, Obi-Wan would get preference to every medical incident experienced. Obi-Wan could be there. Yes. Husband

Husband.

Obi-Wan wipes the tears from his eyes slowly as he stares at the backside of the seat in front of him. Husband. If he were to be Anakin’s husband, he’d never be third in the information chain. He’d know immediately when something happens to his...to his husband.

Anakin could be his husband. Obi-Wan would ask him. It would make everything easier. It would mean Obi-Wan would know anything wrong as soon as it happened. He’d be the first in the chain of information.

He wants that, he decides as he cries into his airplane food napkin somewhere over the Great Plains. He wants to be the first. He wants to know. He wants to be there everytime Anakin wakes up from an injury. He wants to hold his hand.

Nothing else will ever make him feel any better. He needs it.

[wornoutmouse]

Baby Daddy Shigaraki fanfic pt2

It was a miracle that no one questioned the name put down when Shigaraki had to sign the birth certificate. You summed it up as fearing for their lives but it could be many things you try to convince yourself as the reality of your new life truly set in.

The after birth pain, though constant, was numbed whenever you looked down on your son's face. He had yet to do anything more than sleep, much to your annoyance. And was aggressive when breastfeeding  much to Shigaraki's enjoyment, "Just like his father." 

Dabi was the second one to hold Daiki after Komugiri but the look of horror on his face when you fully released the baby into his arms was one that deeply concerned you. "It's breathing." He whispered to you eyes wide.

You signal for Komugiri to stand close behind Dabi just in case he really lost it. "Yeah Dabi.....he is breathing...cause that's what living things do." 

Time skip

You sigh as you finally set Daiki down inside his new bed for a nap. His small face looked so delicate surrounded by soft lavender blankets. His whole room theme was a soft purple as preferred by Komugiri. 

You closed the door till there was only a sliver of light coming in just in case he woke up again, then you headed to your living room. 

Shigaraki sat on the couch shirtless and flicking through TV channels. "Why are you still here?" You ask as you walk to the kitchen to find your tea. "What do you mean?" You stir four teaspoons of sugar into your coffee. "I got Daiki under control, you don't have inconvenience yourself."

Tomura flicked through the channels once again. "You and Daiki are not an inconvenience, you're both my responsibility now." You release the spoon causing it to clink loudly against your ceramic cup. "I don't want you to force yourself to be here, you've obviously proved that you don't really want to be apart of this."

"Y/N come on now this again?!" "Yes this again!" Shigaraki groaned scratching idly at his neck. "I've already missed the hidden trailer off Daiki's life I'm not going to miss the prequel sequel." You groan softly, "Stop talking in video game terms you know I don't understand!"

Shigaraki stands up and walks to the kitchen now leaving only the island separating you. "Look you can hate me all you want, I don't care, hell I'm used to it. But you are not keeping me from my son." You shudder at the tone Tomura spoke at.

There were very few times when you've heard this voice and luckily it was never directed to you. This voice meant that what he said was final and he would not go back on it no matter who got in his way. "I would love to have you in his life Tomura, but I don't want what comes with it." You finally say, making Tomura throw his hands up in defeat.

"What do you expect me to do woman?! Make him tag along on "Bring your child to work day?" You turn away trying to contain your annoyance in fear of waking up the baby. "I'm giving you one chance to get your shit together, don't mess it up." Behind you, you could hear the steady steps of Tomura retreating, "And I'm giving you a chance to see how stupid you're being right now."

Before he completely walked away he stopped, "I am going to check on Daiki since it seems like he's the only one that appreciates my efforts."

Once you heard the familiar creak of Daiki's bedroom door you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding. "How did I get like this?" 

It of course was on a Saturday, as all good stories do. You were working a waitress job at Denny's as a way to earn some pocket money for your first year in Japan. 

"Table 3 we got your Bourbon Chicken skillet, Fish and chips, two waters, and a cherry sprite." Your say setting down all your items before walking to the booth next to them. 

"Hello welcome to Denny's, what can I get for you all tonight?" Dabi at the time, had a nonchalant hand over Twice's mouth most likely to stop his internal bickering. Komugiri was navigating the kids menu with a then 15 year old Toga. Spike ordered some Fish and Chips as per usual and Shigaraki was starting at your tits.....

Shigaraki was staring at your tits.....

He was STARING- I think you get the point

"Hey birthday bitch what are you ordering?" Dabi said snapping Tomura back to the present. "Uh.. get me a steak skewer." Dabi gasped, "I spent all my time and hard work scrounging up money and you get a damn steak skewer for your birthday?!" 

The five stages of grief came over you internally as you had been standing there way past your recommended time. "If you guys aren't ready to order, I'll just come back-" 

"No no no, we are ready. Can we get chicken on a stick with a side of grapes and fries for the young lady. Steak and eggs for me...Dabi? Dabi leaned back simultaneously releasing twice. "We would like a 3-egg omelette-with some cock!" 

You didn't get paid enough for this.

"I'll get you the omelette but I'm afraid I'm out of stock for that last part." You smirk, putting down the orders so far. Dabi snapped the menu shut, "Do y'all have chicken tenders?" Dabi asked, looking at you hopefully. You nod and he fist bumped Twice for some unforeseen reason. 

"Uh get crusty over there a Supreme Sizzling Skillet." "Wait why can all of you get chicken but I can't?!" You wrote down the orders and glanced at Shigaraki who was now looking directly at you as if you held all the answers. "Okay for drinks?"

   As you got off work, you took the back alley entrance to the bus stop. "Hey." Your scream and toss a punch into the darkness effectively making skin to skin contact. "Ow what the fuck?!" "What do you mean what the fuck you're the rapist!"

Shigaraki's signature light blue hair appeared from the shadows almost glowing from the dim alley light. "Rapist? No, I'm more on the lines of stalker." You stand there for a moment rethinking your life choices. "Yeah okay well I'm going to go-" "Wait!" 

You feel half of a hand grip onto your wrist stopping you in your place. "I uh... Think you're cute and, ah crap what did Dabi tell me to say?!" 

As he mulled over his choice of words you hesitantly reach into your purse for pepper spray. "Uh I was wondering if I could get to know you?" He finally ended off staring at you expectantly. You looked back at him expectantly.

"I know this seems creepy but I'm not exactly good at talking to people that are not my friends so you're kinda boss level interaction." For a while your stare at each other as the cold fall wind blew past the two if you. Giving up, you sighed and pulled out a price of paper, "Look, if I wake up tomorrow and none of my underwear is missing and window is not mysteriously open, I'll give you a call, but don't expect it!"

And he didn't expect it. To your surprise, you never found any ominous signs of entry into your substitute home, and he never 'conveniently' showed up at your job. 

Even so, the very fact that you called him was during a moment of weakness. You were extremely home sick and you had just moved into your new home that was only equipped with a fully furnished bedroom and a microwave. 

When you heard the hesitant knock on the door you quickly put your cup of noodles down and opened the door. In your face was a rose...a single rose in a pot. 

Thats different

"It was short notice and it's not like any flower places were open.... So I stole it." You gingerly take the plant into your hands, "It's the thought that counts (?) Come in." You shut the door behind him and set the plant in the kitchen. 

"You must forgive the dryness of my home, I just moved in so there isn't much going on." Tomura hummed as he felt his bones relax as the warmth of the house filled his body. You stared at each other for a while, awkwardly sweating back and forth. Finally, you both opened your mouth to speak up.

"I didn't know I'd get this far so.."

You blink at each other before you double over with laughter. "Uh okay, well how about we watch a movie, get comfortable. The TV is in my room so I hope that doesn't bother you." 

You put on Wall-E for lack of better mood as Tomura hesitantly settled on your plush bed, hands clasped tightly between his thighs.

You two watch these movie in silence and shared popcorn. It wasn't awkward silence though, it was needed. A unspoken message saying that you both acknowledged that this was weird but it was a good weird. Both of you were willing to give it a try.

"Hey pass the popcorn." Tomura said blindly patting the air in front of you. "No you've ate most of it already!" You opted to keeping the bag as far as possible. "It's good popcorn now hand it over." You continue to resist but he was more stubborn.

Unable to think of any other way to save your beloved popcorn you clench your eyes shut and deliver a small peck to the tip of Shigaraki's nose. 

Almost as if shocked, he slides away holding his nose gently. You huff with airy laughter at his flushed face, "Told you, this is my popcorn." 

You smile softly at the memory wiping away a stray tear from your face. "One chance... I'll give him one chance."

You tiptoe to Daiki's new room and peek inside. It was too dark for you to see inside so you opened the door completely. You blankly look into the empty room before falling to your knees. "SHIGARAKI TOMURA I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" You scream into the night air as you glared into the baby less crib.

"Man are you sure you should have him here? He's still a newborn and nothing's baby proof, hell this is a bar so it's far from sanitary!" Dabi said glancing into the baby carriage. Daiki sleepily gazed up at Dabi and babbled. 

"Y/N and I are going through a small set back so I decided to give her some space." Tomura unclipped Daiki from his carseat and picked him up holding his head in a four fingered hold. "We decided to give her some space isn't that right?" He cooed at Daiki who gingerly hit his nose.

"Dude stop, seeing you with a baby is giving me the creeps." Shigaraki glared as Dabi took a shot, "Ignore your uncle Dabi he's just mad he's not as cute as you."

Komugiri was washing dishes until a shiver went down his mystical spine, "I feel a disturbance in the force.

[ithinkthereforeidread]

the collected poems of todd anderson

christmas day of 1959.

ao3 link here

He knew this day would come. He’s been dreading it, sure, he’d never really enjoyed Christmas much beforehand, his multiple unopened desk sets epitomised such. At his house, fires weren’t warm, hugs were stiff and silence was punctured by the sounds of laughing children in the house next door. It’d always been this way for the Anderson family. Todd grew to accept it.

But this year was supposed to be different.

He was supposed to spend his Christmas at Welton, with all the Dead Poets.

 Usually, the boys would go home to their families for Christmas, but through the efforts of Neil he assembled a complex string of falsities about a gargantuan Latin group project that all the Dead Poets needed to finish.

“Serious business, I care about my education father, why else would have you sent me here?” said Neil over the phone, holding his index finger to his mouth to silence Todd from his chuckling, although all Todd really saw was the wide grin that hid behind it, and the way Neil’s eyes crinkled up all the way, a complete oxymoronic action when Neil was usually on the phone to his father. Todd stifles back laughter and Neil smacks him lightly, only causing him to laugh more.

“Well, that was quicker AND easier than I expected...” Neil states after placing the phone back on it’s cradle and ending the call. “But hey!” Neil squeaks, “We’re all spending Christmas together! The biggest concern was just getting my father to agree, everyone else’s parents seemed fine with it.”

Todd and Neil start to walk, side by side, Neil bumps him playfully. “I’m so glad you told me, Todd.” Neil turns his head and looks towards the shorter boy. “My Christmases at home aren’t that great either, I’ve always wanted to spend them here, but I could never work up the courage to ask my father, ask Charlie, in our first year he almost called up my father himself. It was hilarious, he had to look up at the phone, he was so short.”

“You and Charlie have been friends for ages then?” Todd queries “Oh yeah, we met in our last year of preparatory school, he was a pretty mischievous kid, obviously not much has changed.” Neil laughs, “he was just always so confident and sure of himself… I always wanted to be like that, nothing ever got to him.”

“Has that changed?” Todd’s questions were always short and straight to the point. Startling upfrontness in the most unexpected of moments. It was something Todd was known for.

“Not really… I mean, I try to get him to open up… he just isn’t an emotions type of person, I think?” Neil scratches the back of his head. “During our 9th year he went through something really big and not great, but he didn’t tell me a single word about it. To this day I have no idea wahat happened. I tried asking but it didn’t lead anywhere… all I know is some kid had been expelled but it didn’t look like him and Charlie fought or anything because they spent so much time together ....” Neil trails off.

“You know people stare at us sometimes.” Todd blankly states, an unconscious switch being flicked immediately. “When we’re walking to classes, when we go into our dorm, when we exchange smiles in classes… They bump their friends with their shoulders and snicker under their breaths… Have you noticed that Neil?”

Neil’s walking pace slows slightly, “Uh… no, I-uh I didn’t… Do they think we’re-“ “-Maybe.” Todd interrupts before Neil can say The Word. “Bu-but we aren’t, I mean, you were talking about that girl from-“ “-Yeah! Ginny, from the play, wow, I mean, she’s just great.” “Yeah, I’m sure she is.”

God.

This got awkward.

Nice one Todd.

Did it again.

~~

Ink splatters dried on the paper he cradled so delicately, he stares at the contents once more.

“what wouldn't i give to love myself as feverishly as I love you? what is the opposite of amnesia? that is what you are. sometimes i cant find my way around my memories. i have to take detours… i think you were the best one.

little fragments of joy pepper my vacancy i didn't know that i should want to be hopeful or that being hopeful meant giving up some intrinsic part of me.

last night i had a dream that we were breathing underwater flying high in the sky, arms outstretched, laughing, smiling, hugging, bodies pressed onto one another. it didn’t last long. piece by wretched, fragile piece i throw out every hated qualm of thee your impenetrable stare fixed onto me

i have hoped for love that is beyond you being caught by me or me trying to slip through the cracks. they read me, you, us, with their glacial eyes and think they know but they don't

and it seems neither do we.”

“Wow, Todd. This is so… different. But good! It’s just, I’ve never seen anything like this in our English class, in the poems we’ve studied… I just… wow.” Neil looks up at Todd, eyes so soft, Neil knows how big of a deal this is to Todd. He doesn’t just share his work with anyone.

“I-I’m glad you liked it.” Todd smiles, it’s almost as if he’s had to completely remove himself from himself in order to let Neil observe and compliment this part of him, he takes the page out of Neil’s hands and places it in his book. “What-er, who was it about?” Neil gingerly queries. “I- uh, well.” Todd’s heating up now, he should’ve expected Neil to ask him this question. Dammit. Why was he so stupid for letting him read it. “Well, I-I don’t think you necessarily have to go through something to write a-about it, it-it’s fiction for a reason.”

Neil’s lips downturn slightly, “I guess, but everything that we produce in art- whether that be acting, or poetry writing, painting- whatever… it… subconsciously shows something that you might not necessarily want to show or see, right? Like how Keating got us the other day to choose a poem we liked and recite it… It tells you so much about a person. When Charlie was reading his poem… wasn't all you could think about was how bleak it was?” Neil continues, “The academically and poetically rigorous selection made by Cameron or Knox’s complete devotion and enamoration with the simplest emotion of the human being, love? We hide these parts of ourselves, maybe we view them as flaws and faults of our cognitive machine, but art reveals them all.” Neil delivered a love poem to the class himself. He takes a big breath and lets the words he just spoke sit in the air of their dorm for a while.

“Into the meadows dawn..” Todd clicks his fingers, a vague ritual to jog his memory. “flashes my faun.” Todd recites “O Hunter, snare me his shadow… O Nightingale catch me his strain. Else moonstruck with music and madness, I track him in vain” all they’re doing is staring at each other.

“You- you remembered my poem?” Neil questions. “Yeah- I went to the library after you said it- wanted to see if there was more… Oscar Wilde…” “Yeah.” “I notice them staring now that you mentioned it.” Neil breaks the trajectory of the conversation, “God, they’re all so stupid, it’s as if Judy Garland and President Eisenhower just strutted into the school, arms interlocked!” Todd chuckles. Then more silence.

“Has anything changed, Neil?” “What do you mean?” “Between us. What this is. Our comradely bond, as Keating puts it.” Todd chuckles, “ Our co-dependence, attachment at the hip.”

More silence…

“I-I think…” Neil finally states, “that it was never anything it wasn’t already… perhaps we ignored it, suppressed the feeling… but… it was always there.”

“For me, at least.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

~~~

The wind pierced Todd’s skin in tiny microscopic ways, embedding itself under the protection of his coat and completely evading the rest of his physical form, though perhaps the wind wasn’t the cause of the spine-curdling ache he felt, but simply an additional symptom.

Bells rang, green and red Christmas themed paraphernalia adorned the streets he’d previously been driving through, staring out the window at lights and snow that trickled onto an already naturally bleached layer of the ground. His footprints leave indents and obtain a slippery consistency to the outer sole and toe cap. He treads more carefully.

His hands clutch the leather cover of the journal he is hiding underneath his jacket, minimising any further damage that may soon come its way, finally, through minutes of soul-searching and carefully treading through stones and flowers, he makes his way to Neil.

He looks at him with a certain sense of fragility, his stone head protruding from the ground and covered in snow. Todd wipes some away to see the carvings made into him. His full name. Aged 17. Dutiful son of Tom and Susan Perry.

The newness of it all sends a pang to Todd’s stomach as he looks at the other stones weathered with age and the constant bombardment of the elements. That’ll be Neil one day. Flowers not fresh and carvings unreadable. Forgotten to the world and all its inhabitants, rotting in satin lining and cherry oak wood. Todd stifles back a sob and covers his mouth, forcing himself to get it together for just this moment.

“Merry Christmas Neil.” Todd whispers, the words can barely come out. “You-you’re not here physically but you’re here with me, and Charlie, and-and all the other Dead Poets.” he continues, “though- though Charlie isn’t here technically either. He left. Had to. He’s not graduating, at least he’s not at Welton” Todd looks down, brushes his emerging tears away with his shoulder

“I just wanted to come here and give you your gift, I’ve had it in the making for a while now, you’ve seen some of it already. I wish I could’ve given it to you earlier… if I had known this would happen.” he pulls out the journal, and opens it up.

“Here, I’ll read you some.” Todd, though already cold and miserable, situates himself next to Neil’s cold headstone and leans his head on it, opening the journal's contents to its first page.

“Dear Neil,” Todd’s starts, but adds an offside, “It’s dated on the 7th of a while back, my-my birthday.”

“I hope this book finds you well,” Todd’s breath hitches, “especially considering that I’m probably too anxious to deliver it to you. What you’ll see here is what we spoke about the night we first kissed. About freeing ourselves from any subconscious fear or dichotomous dread of both working with and against the grain or being liked or disliked. The people I look up to the most are inspirationally unpopular. So, here’s a suite of poems by yours truly. Hopefully you’ll find your own meaning and reverence in the words my brain has conjured up, words mostly pertaining to you. Every inch of your being alive has me transfixed and enamoured, and I’m truly gobsmacked on the good deed I must’ve committed to have deserved having you in my life.” Todd’s face is red and stuffy from the cold and his breathing is short and punctured.

“You’re sleeping right near me at this moment, and as a sweaty toothed madman once said. We were together. I forgot the rest. Consider this journal a detachable limb of my own self, something you can always carry around and know that I am with you, always. You can suck the life force, the bone marrow out of the words I have written in here and I would applaud and encourage you to do so. Without you, I have no idea where I’d be right now. I owe you so much Neil, you’ve taught me that sometimes the world can be good. That a person’s smile can brighten an entire room. A performance perfectly acted can be a person’s ultimate achievement and their triumph. You are the word phenomenal incarnate Neil, I hope my words do you some sort of justice.

You deserve the world, Neil. I’m brainstorming ways to give it to you.

With love, Todd.”

——————————————————————————

i hope you guys enjoyed!! its fucking brutal honestly but needed some angst and tragedy in my fictional life to reflect my own.

just a preface that some of the poem todd read's is borrowed from pete wentz old emo livejournal posts because i need to somehow tie my two big interests together and MAN does that man write some gay ass shit. hope your heart doesnt hurt too much <3

creds to @neilscrown on tiktok for posting the headcanon "Todd definitely bought Neil a Christmas present and he never got the chance to give it to him so he would sit in his once shared room and stare at it" it tore my HEART OUT and inspired this rambling

[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 30

Pairings: Sirius B, F!Reader, Remus L  Warnings: Language, angst, meeting new characters Important Question: do you guys prefer shorter or longer chapters? also, I listened to first love / late spring by Mitski for this ch if anyone else wants to listen along!

【 Masterlist | Previous Chapter | ao3 】

Chapter 30: Like a Tall Child

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Remus was alone for the trip back to King’s Cross; not wanting to be stuck with James or Peter who would only pester him. He mulled over his thoughts as his head rested against the window, watching the scenery whip by. But the more he had time to think, it caused more guilt to build; they were only trying to be supportive. They cared so much, still willing to associated with someone like… him. And all he did was push them away. He didn’t deserve real mates like them.

Remus tried to distract himself: knitting, drawing — reading next year’s material, but settled on pulling out his cartridge of cigarettes. About to light one, his attention was drawn to the soft knocking on the carriage door. Lily was there, waving before coming in.

“Hey,” she said, closing the door and sitting down. “I wanted to say bye for the summer.”

He exhaled, now itching for the rush of nicotine while Lily fidgeted in her seat. He already knew why she was there.

“Sev — Snape — came to me a couple days ago…”

It was impossible to escape, wasn’t it?

“They’re mad, his theories… He’s been telling me the entire year and kept going on about this one story… wild story of you and Y/N and the other Marauders…” Lily looked up nervously.

Instead of getting angry, Remus closed his eyes, feeling himself sink further into the cushions, centring his breathing. “What did he say?”

“He’s been telling me you’re a… a...”

“Werewolf?”

She froze at the word, having to take a deep inhale and suddenly looked paler than usual. Remus wanted to jump out of the moving train. “Yes,” she stated, “But I told him to bugger off.”

Lily stopped again, meeting his eyes. “So… It’s true?”

“You can’t tell anyone.”

Lily sat straight, leaning over and even putting a hand on her chest, close to her heart. “I’ll take it to the grave.”

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(Letters between Y/N and friends)

To my lovely Whiskers, I hope your summer has been grand so far. Are you sure you can’t spend time with me? It’s been so lonely. Prongs

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Dear Bambi, Unfortunately, I can’t. Mom’s dragging me to New York for the month. Something about being invited to do a special surgery. Said leaving me alone will do no good. I promise to bring you back a souvenir? How are things with Black? Whiskers

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My adoring, wonderful Whiskers, And it hasn’t. My parents are concerned. They’ve been trying to get me to talk about what happened but I can’t. Dumbledore and McGonagall have already started their punishments. He lost over 200 points for next year, got detention for half the year and he can’t try out for the Quidditch team if he wanted to. I wonder what they’ll do next. I love souvenirs! All things Muggle! Yours truly, Prongs/Bambi/James

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July 20th, 1976 Meet me in Times Square at 1 pm on the 8th. There’s a bench outside a bagel store, there’s no way you’ll miss it. Until next time, Matthew G.

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¡Hola! Greetings from Barcelona! My brothers took a few weeks off to spend time with me to come to Spain with my parents! They’re dragging me to a football game later. I heard they call it ‘soccer’ in North America. M. McKinnon

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Y/N L/N, Hello, I hope you’re having a wonderful break. Your letters are the highlight of my day and they keep me busy. So I hate to inform you that you need to stop sending me letters for now. I’m not supposed to be getting any and my parents are going to start confiscating them if I receive any more. I’m sorry. I can’t wait to see you in the fall. R.A.B

━━━༻✩༺━━━

I’m visiting Tuney with my parents in a few days. She moved to London for a clerical job in March and we’re meeting her boyfriend, Vernon! He sounds nice but she’s told me she’s nervous about me and magic around him. Lily

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Petals! I’m sure you’ll be fine! Who couldn't love you? Write back and tell me what happens!

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Whiskers, I’m with my parents up in Wales in their cottage. I was born there before having to move for my Dad’s work. Also, I think I have to get a rabbit. James always told people that I got my scars from a poorly behaved rabbit and if I’m not seen with one soon, people will start to question. Remus

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Does this mean I get to call you Moony now? Professor Moony? Wales? And that’s where that small accent comes from. It bleeds through when you’re concentrating or relaxing. And a rabbit? At least they’re cute! I’m sure you can just Transfigure a book though. Y/N

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Professor Moony? Haha, okay! And really? I never knew. I’m kind of embarrassed now. I’ve thought about that but at this point, I think it would be easier just to have one.

━━━༻✩༺━━━

Oh no! It’s nice! Gives you personality. I think it suits you well How about… Moody Moony near full moons? And Moody Moony Mondays on Mondays.

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Now you’ve gone too far. Bloody fucking Moody Moony? Have you ever heard of Mad-Eye Moody?

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Would you prefer 'my Moony' then?

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Yes, actually.

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August 6th, 1976

“Hurry up!”

She thudded down from the top of the staircase, dragging her trunk behind while her mother sped out of the terminal door, flagging down one of the zipping yellow taxis with her luggage in hand.

It was strange, being with her mother again after almost a year apart. She hadn’t come to King’s Cross again, instead sending her a bus fare in anticipation of school ending. She hoped for some sort of recognition, any kind of sign that she was missed but was only given a side-armed hug and delved back into work.

Y/N wondered if maybe she just didn’t want her there, hoping she would get lost and never come back. She only had been on a bus in London twice, therefore almost ensuring that she would get lost and would have stayed lost if she didn’t have extra spare change to use a payphone.

Ignoring the crackle of whispers as she strode to the cab, people blatantly stared at her unnatural coloured hair, as she entered the car, slamming the door shut.

“Where ya ladies off too?” Said the driver, pulling out a map from their car door.

“Cranberry Street, Brooklyn Heights.”

It was a quiet drive, aside from the driver drumming their fingers on the steering wheel at the sound of the Bee Gees blasting in the background. She watched other cabs whipping back and forth, people going on with their days, the dirty streets and building under construction.

“Hey, mom?” She asked, reasoning now was a good time to talk about her OWL results. She’d gotten them mere seconds before leaving their house back in London and she’d been putting off looking at the results until now.

She only grunted, flicking through one of her medical journals, jotting down notes. “I don’t have time right now.”

Y/N sighed, that familiar sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach expanded again. “It’s kind of important.”

“Not now.” She waved her hand and ended the conversation.

Thirty minutes later, the cab came to a stop as they grabbed their luggage and strolled up to the brownstone building they were renting for the month.

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Jet lag got to her as she unwinded lounged until finally getting up from bed that morning as her mom rushed around the house. She frantically was putting on shoes, dressed impeccably sharp, no doubt in hopes to make an impression as her eyes flew across her journal. Her feet were scrambling to the door as she flung her bag over her shoulder.

“Have a good d —” And then the door slammed shut.

She stared blankly at the door for a while and then turned around, getting ready for her day. A daint drum of excitement yet nervousness built up, pushing aside that sinking feeling. Today she was going to see Matthew again.

Having a few hours to spare, Y/N walked around, marvelling at the tall buildings and lights before heading into the heart of Time Square, immediately spotting the bench outside the bagel shop. She sat, waiting for him anxiously. She made sure to wear a hat, covering any sight of hair to avoid weird stares and chatter.

But then a few minutes turned into ten and then twenty minutes later.

Slipping out the letter again to make sure, she re-read it. Time Square, at one, today… near the bagel shop…

“Where y’at?”

Her head lifted as she jumped to her feet and pulled each other into a tight hug.

“Matthew!”

His face nuzzled into the side of her neck, arms wrapped around tight as her face pressed gently into his chest. Eventually, she pulled away - arms outstretched to get a good look.

Matthew Gaplin looked different. His hair, coarse and thick, had grown. He was taller, filled out more, tan skin became even tanner from the beating sun and he filled out.

His smile was large. “S’been so long.”

She gave him a small whack!

“Ow!” He jumped back, “What’s wrong wiv ya?”

“I thought you stood me up.”

“Sorry, doing something for Mom. Had to wait on line forever.”

He looked down bashfully, now staring at the hat. His face made a disgusted look. “It’s disgusting out. Why are you wearing —” Curiously lifting the hat, his lids widened astronomically as Y/N grabbed it, covering her wild hair.

“I told you,” she hissed.

“Right the Potter sport!” He gave a full-body laugh. “Oh come on, I wanna see it again!”

But her hand clamped down on that hat to prevent him from pulling it off. “No! The Muggles keep judging —“

“Muggles?” Matthew’s brows furrowed. “The fuck is a Muggle? Sounds… demeaning.”

“Sorry, it’s what they call No-Majs.”

“Ahh,” and then he moved to loop an arm around her shoulders and continued to walk. “Too good to use ol’American terms?”

“Turned British snob.”

They laughed loudly as he took charge, showing her around the city. There was something so calming amid the chaos of New York. The bustle, low chatter and his enthusiasm made it all the better.

Soon enough, after hours of walking around, they both came to a stop in a large park as they grew hungry. Matthew disappeared for a while, leaving her alone to lay down on the soft grass before returning, holding up a brown bag with two drinks.

“Got us bagels wiv schmear.”

She mumbled out a thanks and took it from him as he sat down on the grass beside her.

“Missed ya, really.”

She shoved him playfully, his head dropping bashfully. “Shut up.”

It stayed quiet for a bit, as they listened to the birds chirping until he broke the silence again. “Ya thinkin’ ‘bout moving back eventually, right?”

“Why?”

Matthew gave her a haughty look, contemplating his words carefully. “Do ya… not know? They’re losing the war.”

Momentary terror gripped her heart but she swallowed it down fast. “Matthew,” her voice dropped, “Please, I want a fun summer… can we not talk about the war? I have more than enough time to worry later."

He wanted to keep talking, worried for his good friend but he refrained, biting down on his lip and nodded stiffly.

“So…” he thought to himself, contemplating how to change the direction of their conversation and fast. “Fess up, what’s been goin’ on over there.”

“Huh?”

“You’re telling me you haven't — what is it called? Kissing?”

“Snogging?”

He smiled. “You’re telling me you haven’t snogged anyone of those rich Old-Majs yet?”

“Nope!” She spoke too quickly and voice was a little too high.

“Liar. Ya going tell me who then?” Y/N looked down, hand going to fiddle with the fem of her clothes while Matthew shook her. “Come on! Tell me!”

“Fine! His name is Sirius Black.”

Matthew's eyes widened in recognition as he sat upright. “You don’t mean the Black family? Gawd! No way!”

“What?”

“And ya don’t even know!” Matthew was full of amusement. “They’re one of the oldest wizarding families out there! Are you still wiv him?”

Y/N stopped, trying to conceal a chuckle. She didn’t have it in her to lie anymore. “No! He almost got me killed.”

“Ha. Ha, very clever. Fine, don’t tell me.”

“You? Anything exciting?”

Matthew snorted. “Fought over a fin if that counts as exciting.”

“You know that’s not what I'm talking about,” she teased.

He abruptly became very serious and it had Y/N sitting up straighter. Matthew breathed in, this time not looking at her but instead at his metal pop can. “I’ve… had a tumble wiv a few... didn’t matter their… genders.”

It took a second for his words to click in but when it did, her mouth fell open and saw his face fall as she pulled him into a tight hug. “I don’t care who you cop, just be safe and have fun.”

He mumbled into her shoulder. “Been rehearsing that since I knew you were visitin’.”

“Love ya, could never judge you.” He tried to look insulted from the babying but prickled with tears before wiping them away quickly.

“Bless ya!”

“You alright though?”

“Now that I know your reaction, never betta. Now, you talk, enough ‘bout me.”

After making sure he was okay, Y/N prattled about Hogwarts. Matthew would pop in a few times, asking her to clarify or ask what words the British used — he often called her his ‘British insight.’ She rambled much about her day, her new friends but made sure to leave out a few details. Matthew became peculiarly silent through most of her speech. It wasn’t like him to not try to speak up, but he looked at her with something she’d only seen a few times prior.

Matthew stared at her for a long time, analyzing with underlying adoration. “What did them Brits do to ya?”

She looked at him, waiting for him to continue. “Ya sound different.” He says calmly, going to sip on his pop. “Talk funny.”

“Tawk funny,” she mocked and earned a shove. “Different? How so?”

“Everything ‘bout you seems different. Y’look happier,” he smiles, although there was a twinge of hurt. “Talk softer, look different — move differently and ya voice sounds different… but the same.”

She takes a bit of her food. “I hope that isn’t a bad thing.”

Matthew smiles gently, sheepish but there. “Not at all.”

She smiled back. Matthew always knew how to make her smile and it felt good, normal.

“Happy looks good on ya.”

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She finally sat down, tired from the long day she spent wandering the city. But it wasn’t long until a tapping sound came from the window. Celeste was there, waiting with a letter in her beak. She walked up to her, letting her fly inside and opened the letter.

Got my OWL results. Outstanding in Astronomy, DADA, Charms, Transfigs. Exceeds Expectations in everything else but an Acceptable in Potions. Moony

She re-read that last part. Remus getting Acceptable in Potions? Her attention travelled to the stark white envelope peeking out from the side pocket of her carry-on. She marched up to it, ripping it open and scanned the paper.

Outstanding in Transfiguration, Potions and Herbology, Arithmancy. Exceeds Expectations in everything else except Poor in History of Magic. She cringed at that.

She immediately got up from her seat. Rushing over to the master bedroom, peeking her head in. “Mom?” She said quietly, “Can I talk to you.”

“Didn’t I tell you I was busy?” Her voice cut through. “It’s not the time to be a nuisance.”

A scorching feeling of anger thrummed through her but kept her voice low and steady. “That was a few days ago.”

"My answer didn't change."

Any semblance of calm vanished. “It’s about my OWLs. My future. I need some sort of guidance.”

“I wouldn’t understand them,” she sighed and peered up. There was an odd expression, borderlining on confusion and something else. “It’s not the same. I’m not a… witch like you are. I don’t know how to help you.”

“I’ll make it into No-Maj terms?” Y/N’s voice was tight and came rushing over to where she sat on the couch. And laid out her examination results. “Look, an O is the same as getting an A! It’s the highest grade you can get. And here,” she pointed, “My teacher, Professor Slughorn, invites me to parties because of my work in Potions class. I’m one of his top students.”

She glanced at her mom excitedly but was met with a look of annoyance and slight judgement. But she continued, “A-and in Herbology I'm doing excellent too! I was becoming interested in becoming a Healer. I told you in my letters. It’s similar to being —”

“I’m sorry,” her mother said but it didn’t have any trace of guilt or sorrow, “I’m busy and you’re getting in the way of work — my achievements — that you know are important.”

“Are mine not important?”

A thick, profound silence filled the space between them. Everything about the connotation had her averting her body, feeling the sinking in her chest explode. From the war, traumatic near death experience and her mother's constant aloof nature, it was her cracking point.

Snatching the OWLs results, she walked out the door, shutting it gently before diving into her room; throwing the covers over her head.

All the New-Maj and No-Maj children were told stories of the Boogeyman. To Y/N, it felt comparable to reverting to a small child as she tucked herself into a tight ball. She recalled watching all the other children running up their parents, being roped with large hugs and smiles, surrounded with infinite quantities of love as they left the school playground. She remembered being envious, wanting to have two parents as the images of the Boogeyman drew near.

There was an overwhelming sense to scream — to cry out for guidance as the knot in her stomach grew. Instead of her mother coming to her rescue — to reassure, to give any sense of security or safety while other parents would scare off the Boogeyman or monsters ready to nip at their children’s toes under the bed, Y/N was left in the dark as all sense of relief or love vanished. It left her vulnerable, exposed to the monsters lurking in the dark.

Her mother may have not been physically absent but it sure felt like it.

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【 Next Chapter 】

Slang dictionary:

Fin = $5 / five dollar bill Bagels with schmear = bagels with cream cheese Wait on line = the same as 'Wait in line' Pop = Canadian slang for soda / soft drinks Sport / old sport = (depending on the context) a term of endearment similar to buddy, pal, friend

© gotkindabored 2021. Do not repost or modify

[ecto-american]

Humanity

Upon their arrest by the GIW together, Valerie learns something interesting about Phantom and herself that make her question just how human both herself and Phantom are.

note that this isn’t a phic phight thing, just something i wrote literally months ago for Lexx but forgot that i wrote

on FFN and AO3

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They didn't even have the decency to arrest her before Mr. Lancer's class. Being arrested for...well, the Guys in White were never really clear as to why they showed up to Casper High to arrest her. But whatever the reason, that would have been one hell of an excuse as to why she was not just missing, but why she couldn't turn in that book report that she not only didn't do, but hadn't even read a single page of yet. Valerie had an inkling she knew why, but she remained completely silent the entire march out the front doors of the school. She wasn't an idiot after all.

The agent to her left opened the door, and the agent to her right put his hand on her head to duck her into the white SUV. The door closed, and Valerie glanced to see just how tinted the windows were, as well as the police-style framing of the windows and the separation between the driver and passenger as well as the backseat dwellers.

"Oh, I was wondering why we stopped here."

That familiar voice made her jump, and she turned to see Phantom. He was in the exact same predicament. Hands behind his back, leaning against the seat, though she could immediately tell that his handcuffs were much clunkier and glowed. Obviously anti-ghost.

"You!" Valerie hissed. She immediately leaned into the window, lifting her leg up, and she began to kick him repeatedly. "What the hell are you doing here!?"

"Ow!" Phantom hissed as she got him in the shoulder, and then his rib. She didn't stop, and she didn't miss. "AH! Fuck, stop it! OW!"

"Knock it off!" one of the agents boomed. The sudden, strict tone made Valerie pause. She kicked him one more time, square in the face, before finally stopping.

Phantom made a weird wheezing noise, and she saw him shift to rub his nose on his upper arm and shoulder. He frowned.

"My nose is bleeding," he complained.

"I hope your nose is broken!" Valerie snapped back at him.

Phantom glared at her. He made a weird noise in his throat, and it took Valerie a moment to realize what he was doing. Preparing spit. And indeed, the ghost teen stuck his tongue out, drool instantly dripping, and he leaned in. Valerie instantly leaned away from him.

"Ew! Gross! Get away from me!" she complained.

"Nu-uh!" Phantom replied, his tongue still out as he continued to scoot. He got close enough to open his mouth, and some of his saliva dripped onto her knee.

"Gross, gross, gross!" she shrieked. Valerie kicked him in the side, and Phantom let out a pained wheeze.

"Knock. It. Off," the other agent snapped at them. They had gotten into the driver and passenger's seat, and both were glaring at them.

"She started it!" Phantom accused. The driver frowned at him, obviously not amused. Phantom scooted back to his side of the backseat. Valerie stayed pressed against the window and door. She could hear the drive mutter something about hating kids before turning the vehicle on, and they drove off.

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

They made the duo sit in the interrogation room for three hours, according to the clock. They had, thankfully, just connected the teenagers to the table via a long chain and handcuffs, so that they could at least be a bit more comfortable, even though Phantom, and for some reason her, were both given anti-ghost bracelets to wear. A box of tissues were also tossed onto the table, and Phantom had spent the first half hour tending to his bloodied nose. He stuffed all the used tissues, grossly, into his pocket, though she suspected why he did that. It had his DNA on it.

Phantom nor her attempted conversation. Neither were stupid. They essentially stared at each other and the walls, their only words were occasional out-loud wondering of when somebody was going to show up to question them already.

Obviously her more pressing question was why the hell they were still together. For some reason, Phantom was with her every step of the way of their weird little field trip. They got escorted in together, processed together, and now were sat at the exact same interrogation table. Why? She had absolutely no idea. Didn't they normally separate people they arrested?

At exactly 6:38 PM, somebody finally opened the door, and she and Phantom sat straight up.

The agent that sat before them was a large man, muscular and tall with big hands and sunglasses that fully blocked any chance of the teens from seeing what he was looking at.

"We know you're both half-ghost."

Valerie's mind instantly went to Vlad. That must have been what he was...she had been debating with herself for weeks now as to what he was. A ghost disguised as a human? A human who had ghost powers?

She pushed those aside to look at Phantom. To her surprise, he was pale. Nearly as white as his hair, with anxiety sweat drops beginning to form. Her interest peaked instantly. Silence hung in the air. The man said nothing, simply keeping his attention intensely on them. Valerie

"That's ridiculous," Valerie finally said something. She nearly added that the entire idea itself was ridiculous too. Well, it kind of was. It was so weird to grasp, but it wasn't really something that she wanted to think too hard about these days, and especially now. There was nothing more that she'd love to do than to throw that manipulative old bastard under the weird half-ghost freak bus. However, not only was it probably not a good idea to start beef with a literal superpowered-villain billionaire...but Dani was still out there.

"Don't lie to me." The man sounded agitated. "Both of your ectoplasmic readings are abnormal."

Ectoplasmic reading? Her? Valerie stared at him as if he had grown a second head.

"I shouldn't have any ectoplasmic reading," she pointed out. "I'm alive. Alive people don't have ectoplasmic readings."

The man opened up his folder, pulling out a few choice pieces of papers to slide her way. Phantom silently watched them, his eyes wide and his face looking utterly blank yet...so fearful. Valerie opted to ignore him for a while, accepting the papers to hold as she read through them.

She was familiar with how to read ectoplasmic readings, charts and monitors by now. Green eyes scanned the data, frowning in confusion as she checked the details, and she could see out of the corner of her eye Phantom leaning in to read too. She adjusted her position so that he couldn't.

This description was definitely her, and...she was giving off ectoplasmic readings. Not really in the same way as a normal ghost; there was something distinctively different about hers that any set of trained eyes could pick up on. But how?

"I don't understand," Valerie spoke slowly. "I'm alive." She put the documents back down on the table. "You can take a swap or slap some ghost goop stuff on me. Hell, prick my finger." Valerie held her palm out to the man. Her anti-ghost bracelet sparkled a bit in the light of the room. At least she now knew why they made her wear the bracelets too. "I'm not dead."

The interviewer stared intently at her hand. He gave a neutral hum of acknowledgement, swooping the papers back up.

"Testing and experiments will be reserved for a later time," he replied. Valerie got instant goosebumps. Testing and experiments? "Maybe a few hours in holding will help you realize why you should just come clean to us."

"Can I get some water first?" Valerie asked. The agent snorted in amusement as he stood up.

"Ghosts don't eat or drink."

She felt numb, and she had no idea how to respond to that. Two more agents came into the room, and they silently took the teenagers further into the building until they reached a door. The third agent opened it, and Phantom and Valerie were ushered inside.

The room almost immediately led into bars, and the first thing Valerie could think of was just how much it looked like jail. Two uncomfortable looking bunk beds on either side, a toilet in the middle, a small sink, and no windows. The light was dim, and the room was cold.

Phantom was pushed in first, and then Valerie, and the bars clunked as they closed. She turned to see the bars begin to glow as the bars were locked.

And there was no goodbyes. The agents were eerily silent as they filed out, and the door was shut behind them. She could hear the faint click as it also locked.

Valerie turned to see Phantom's reaction, and he still looked shaken and pale. She already suspected the answer, but she needed to hear it.

"So...are you?" Valerie asked.

"No!" Phantom's answer was way too quick. "What about you? Don't you hate ghosts?"

"I'm not half ghost!" she snapped back. "I have no clue why they'd think that."

Phantom studied her for a moment. His eyes lit up.

"Your suit!" he declared. "The one Technus gave you. It must make your reading wonky."

The second he reminded her, she felt a cold shiver. Suddenly her heartbeat felt off, and she assumed she was colder than usual because of...ya know. That couldn't be true. It had to be wonky readings. The suit was so nice...so much nicer than the suit that she had made herself. It was so much more powerful, so much nicer, just flat out cooler.

She put her heart over her chest. She still had a heartbeat, right?

"What's your excuse?" she asked. Phantom didn't say anything. He turned his attention to the wall, staring blankly at it.

"...Why would they let us stay trapped in here together?" Phantom changed the subject. Valerie narrowed her eyes at him, but she had to admit. It was a good point. "Especially knowing that we'd just plot our escape together."

"Pump the breaks, Phantom. I'm not escaping," Valerie scoffed. "They'll realize their mistake and just let me go."

"Well, they're not gonna let me go," Phantom frowned. "The Guys in White don't exactly play nice with ghosts. And I'm not leaving without you."

"Not my problem," Valerie replied. She raised an eyebrow at him. "Unless...of course there's a reason for it to be my problem."

"You can't just do it out of the kindness of your heart?" Phantom sounded sarcastic, despite staring at her desperately. Valerie crossed her arms. "Please?"

"Give me one good reason to escape with you."

And thus began a staring contest. Phantom shifted from foot to foot, and he glanced at the floor. A lightbulb made the realization click. The GIW knew her identity. They arrested her at school. But they didn't know Phantom's. Nobody probably did. This was likely a ploy to get them to reveal themselves to each other. How or why, Valerie wasn't sure. But now it was glaringly obvious to her.

Phantom was half-ghost. Just like Dani. Just like Vlad. The Guys in White don't play nice with ghosts, and she had a strong feeling that they didn't care much about playing nice with humans either. Especially if they suspected that there was ghost within them.

"Nevermind," Valerie sighed. Phantom stared at her, and he...looked scared. "I can destroy ghosts…" But I really can't take part in destroying a human.

Phantom grew a bit pale again, as they both knew the unspoken words. He took a deep, shaky breath. His reaction was all she needed to know, that this wasn't some weird lie or ploy.

"So. What's our game plan?" he asked.

Valerie studied their surroundings. She reached out to touch the bars of their shared cell, taking immediate note that she wasn't shocked.

"Well, obviously there's that big shield outside," Valerie lightly mused.

"I can get past that shield," Phantom spoke up. "Under the...right circumstances."

Valerie nodded. If Phantom was able to turn human away from the prying eyes of cameras and more, they could both obviously escape right out the front door. Hell, they could likely utilize both Phantom and his? Human? Side? Whatever he was called.

"This facility was designed for ghosts, not humans," Phantom continued. "If we worked together, we can probably make a quick exit." Valerie hummed in agreement.

"That's not just enough," Valerie replied. "I'll just get arrested again. They know who I am. Like, they know Valerie Gray is the huntress." Phantom frowned, and he thought for a moment.

"We could maybe delete their evidence files or something?" he suggested. Valerie paced their cell for a moment.

"There has to be some kind of computer security room somewhere," Valerie spoke aloud to herself. "If we can find it, we can probably wipe evidence and also fully take down the shield."

Phantom leaned against the back wall of the cell.

"I don't think that's enough," he replied. Valerie stopped pacing to stare at him. "We need to make sure the Guys in White don't do this again. Ever. Never even have the chance to get to this point again." Valerie scowled.

"They help hunt ghosts!" she protested.

"And they'd consider Danielle a ghost and rip her to shreds," Phantom countered. The reminder of that little girl hit her straight in the gut. She sighed.

"I don't know," she said slowly.

"They're a government organization, they'll rebuild," Phantom pushed. "We just need to stall them long enough to buy time for us to figure out how to keep you, Danielle and I safe."

She hated it, but...yeah. She wasn't really in the best position either. Valerie had no clue what was going on with her, but the Guys in White were incredibly persistent...and she knew her dad wouldn't be able to afford a lawyer for her anymore.

Valerie held her wrist up. Her suit's bracelet was basically hidden underneath the anti-ghost one, but she could still feel it there. Her suit wasn't gone. She could still access it, and that made her feel more confident in that she was still human. Which she had to be. Right?

Valerie activated her suit, and she held her wrist up to read the screen. She pressed a few buttons.

"I think I can figure out a map of this place," she said. "And from there we can see where's what."

Her forearm glowed brightly as it gathered data. It took a few moments of calculating, but soon, she had her results. Phantom was soon peering over her shoulder, both of them studying the map.

"How accurate is this?" Phantom questioned.

"It tends to be fairly decent. Sometimes it's hit or miss with collapsed buildings, but overall it's spot on," she replied. She adjusted the screen, zooming it out. "I can only get the floor we're on though."

"That looks like it could be some kind of utility room," Phantom pointed to a specific room. Valerie zoomed in on it, studying it.

"Yeah," she said slowly. "Yeah. Gotta be. It's got a lot of power coming to or from there. Has to be a source, or at the very least some kind of major technology area."

"Either way, we should destroy it," Phantom said. Valerie frowned.

"I don't know," she hesitated.

"I mean, you can't even summon your powers."

Phantom glanced down at his wrists, glancing curiously at them before setting his sights on Valerie's arms.

"Can you shoot them off?" he asked.

Valerie tried to summon one of her weapons. She waited. And she waited. Nothing came, and her gut became queasy. She couldn't get her ghost weapon. None of them would summon. This had to be a bad sign. Or was it just the GIW prepared against humans too? That was the most logical explanation. She couldn't be…But also she could be...after all the ectoplasmic readings...

"Um, actually, I think I can…" Phantom's voice caused her to truly look at him again. The ghost was fiddling with his wristbands, using his knees to lock it in place as he attempted to slip his wrist through the band with no success.

"Here, let me try," Valerie interrupted him. Phantom glanced up at her.

"Can you shoot them?" he asked. Valerie forced a weak smile, but she held up a screwdriver.

"Got something even better. My travel tool kit," she replied. After too many breakdowns in the field, she had replaced a small pouch that previously held smoke bombs, something she rarely used, with a few small tools. It was easily one of the best choices she made.

Phantom held his wrist out to her, and she turned the bracelet around. Eventually she managed to pry a piece of the metallic covering off, exposing screws and a few wires. Valerie didn't undo or cut anything right away, both her and Phantom silently trying to make sense of the connection and mechanics behind it. Would really suck to find out the hard way that disconnecting a certain wire would trigger an alarm, after all.

"I think you shouldn't touch the red wire," Phantom lightly mused. "Pretty sure that's a power, and if you turn it off it'll be bad news."

"Mmm, yeah," Valerie agreed. "I think I can just unscrew this though, and we should just be careful to not slip the wires off."

Phantom nodded, and he waited patiently as she did just so. After twenty minutes of careful disconnecting, Phantom had two hands free, and he flexed his hands with a happy sigh.

"God, that just feels so much better," he told her. He motioned for her to hand him the screwdriver. "Here, I'll do yours." Valerie shook her head.

"I can't leave. I won't say anything if you escape, but they know my identity."

Phantom frowned.

"I'm not leaving you here. Come on, you saw your map. We can destroy their power. We can destroy this entire building," he began, only for Valerie to cut him off.

"And do more destruction? Is that all you think about?" she snapped. "You're safe. They know my identity. You want me to get more charges or something? I can't risk it. I'll just stay here. They'll figure out soon enough that I'm fully human." A full human who apparently had mixed logic as to whether or not they could use their ghost hunting suit. If she was fully human, she could summon those weapons, right? Unless it was specifically preventing any ghost weapon, regardless of the user, use it.

"Red, I don't think you understand," Phantom told her. "They're not going to go easy on you. Even if you prove you're human, they're not going to believe you. You heard them. They already denied you contact to the outside world."

That reminder sent a chill down her spine.

"Then tell my dad," she told him. Phantom stared at her. He began to unzip his suit, and she instantly began to look away. "Dude, what the hell?"

"Valerie, look at me," he demanded.

"You're naked!" she protested.

"I'm not naked, just look."

She decided to humor him with the intention of taking a quick peek. But when she saw him, she felt a cold sweat hit her. Phantom had only zipped enough to expose his chest, and there was a distinctive Y-patterned scar on his chest that stood out against the other scars.

"This is what happened last time I was trapped here. I'm not going to leave you alone here," he stated. He suddenly looked away, and he quickly zipped his suit back up. "There's no way in hell I'm going to risk this happening to you. Red, you need to come with me."

That urgent gut feeling of needing to go finally crashed into her. The GIW would never believe her. Not just because of stubbornness, but...Valerie herself wasn't even sure anymore.

She swallowed dryly, and she nodded. Her right wrist was offered to him.

"Do you know what to do?" she asked. Phantom scowled.

"I just watched you do it," he reminded her. She rolled her eyes, but held her wrist up for him, and a half hour later, she too, was free.

She wasn't sure if she was more concerned or relieved to instantly feel that distinctive rush of power back. The second Phantom removed her bracelet, she knew that she could summon any of her ghost weapons now at her fingertips. But she could still summon her suit regardless, and activate her GPS abilities. Was this normal? Valerie had no clue what this meant anymore.

"So, next step, I think we can escape through here."

Valerie looked up to see Phantom was now floating by the vent at the top of their cell. He was already using her screwdriver to undo the vent cover. She pulled her map back up on her forearm, glancing at it and studying it.

"I'm pretty sure the vent will go straight to that electric room," she told him.

"Oh, now you're finally seeing the big picture?" Phantom lightly teased, glancing over his shoulder as he popped the vent cover off. She nodded at him, but didn't crack a smile.

"...You and Dani may look just alike, but I never want you two to have matching scars," she said. Phantom's smile dropped, and he nodded in agreement.

He placed the vent covering on the top bunk, handing Valerie back her screwdriver. She slipped it back in it's pouch.

"Here, I'll give you a boost up," Phantom offered, pressing his hands together. She nodded, stepping a foot onto his hand. With ease, Phantom pushed her up, and she grabbed onto the vent, pulling herself in. It was surprisingly fairly roomy yet not, and she managed to get comfortable on her stomach, pulling her map back up.

"Ready to commit several federal crimes?" Phantom's voice half joked. She looked behind her the best she could to see the ghost right behind her. She snorted in amusement.

"Ready as I'll ever be," she replied. "Just follow me. It's time to give these idiots hell."

And hell they did. Who knew that the Guys in Whites headquarters could cause such a colorful explosion.

[jackrrabbit]

it will come back [pt. 1] /// Yandere Shigaraki x f!Reader

Summary: You have a bad habit of picking up strays, and the half-dead villain you find bleeding out in a dumpster is no exception. [Part 2] [Part 3]

A/N: Low budget yandere for my greasy king. This concept has definitely been done before, but I couldn’t resist. This is my first non-smut on this acct and I’ll be so sad if it bombs 😭

Title from the Hozier song: “don’t let it in with no intention to keep it / jesus christ, don’t be kind to it / oh honey don’t feed it / it will come back.”

Tags/warnings: light yandere, minor injury, angst, Shiggy likes you, reader needs a friend and a good night’s sleep. [In later parts but not in this one: violence, sex, more yandere, 18+]

You’ve always had a soft spot for strays. Maybe that’s why you became an ER nurse—from the first abandoned puppy you brought home as a kid to the patients you refuse to give up on even when it looks hopeless, you’ve never been able to turn a blind eye when something needs your help. Sometimes (times like this) you wish you knew better. It’s hard enough to take care of yourself these days.

Today’s shift was…what, 16 hours? 17? The 20-minute walk from the bus stop to your apartment building feels like it takes twice that long in the rain. God, you need a shower. And a decent night’s sleep, preferably for at least 12 hours. Tomorrow’s your day off, and you’re ready to take advantage of it the best way you know how: Netflix, soju, and your favorite vibrator. But tonight? As soon as you’re clean, you’re going to pig out on leftovers and collapse into the bed that’s the only halfway nice piece of furniture in your shithole apartment. You really do deserve a break; you’ve earned it.

Unfortunately, as usual, the universe has other plans.

You hear him before you see him: wheezing, choked breaths, like someone’s trying to breathe with an anvil on their chest. You’re not quite out of nurse mode so your mind starts trying to diagnose the issue before you even register what you’re hearing. Fluid in the lungs, possibly blood. That hacking isn’t good. Broken ribs? Definitely bruised. But probably not a puncture…

The breathing is coming from down an alley next to your building. It’s dark enough that you can’t see from the street what’s making the noise. And you’re not a fool, you know it’s a bad idea to walk down pitch-black alleys late at night, especially in this area—a neighborhood you’re living in by necessity, because it’s the only place cheap enough for you to get by. But the coughing…it just sounds so awful. It sounds like it hurts.

Your phone’s already in your hand with 119 dialed and ready to call (standard practice when you’re walking home by yourself), but you turn the flashlight on and shine it down the alleyway. “Hello? Anyone there?”

Nothing responds, but you can still hear the breathing. You step in a little deeper, swinging your light from side to side and looking over the heaps of trash bags overflowing from the dumpster. The raindrops make clicking sounds as they hit the plastic, and you can hear gurgling from a rain spout down the side of the building, but the wheezing doesn’t stop.

One more step. And then one more. You wish there was something you could do to make the splash of your rain boots in the puddles a little less loud. Something about this situation—the rain, the dark, the flat grey light from your cellphone, and that horrible hacking breath—it makes you feel like you’re walking into a horror movie. But you don’t stop walking.

The hacking is coming from a man propped up on the wall between a few XL bags of trash. The black outfit he’s wearing almost blends into the bags, but a mop of grey-blue hair gives him away. His head is slumped onto his chest, and if he’s conscious he doesn’t show it. “Hello?” you ask again, even less confident that you’re going to get a response.

No answer.

The smell of garbage is…ugh…hard to ignore, but on top of it is an oppressive stench of copper coming from the man passed out in the trash. You kneel down to get a better look and yep, he’s covered in blood. It’s hard to make out in the low light, but there’s a trio of long gashes in the man’s abdomen, cutting apart the skin and flesh so deep you can see traces of a slim layer of yellow fat between all the inky clotted blood. It looks like he was attacked by an animal. Or someone with an animal quirk. There are a lot of villains in this neighborhood.

And the coughing...definitely internal injuries. Whoever this guy is, he needs treatment. You hold up your phone to hit the call button on your pre-dialed 119—

“Don’t.” The voice is a growl, low and surprisingly firm despite the scratchiness. You jerk back and clutch your phone to your chest, caught off guard not just by the interruption but by the intensity of the face glaring up at yours.

His eyes are red. “You need an ambulance,” you tell him in your calmest nurse voice.

“If you try to call the police, I’ll—kill you,” the man says, but the threat is a little less threatening when he has to stop in the middle to retch blood onto his own chin.

You glare back at him but don’t call the emergency number. There are a lot of of reasons why he wouldn’t want to go to the hospital, but the most obvious one is probably true. “You’re a criminal. A villain?”

He doesn’t respond, choosing instead to keep glaring at you like you’ve committed some mortal sin against his ancestors by having the nerve to check on him and try to help him. Somehow it pisses you off. When you were getting your ADN, you once took a temp job doing health screenings at a local middle school and you would always get so annoyed at the kids. Didn’t they see you were just doing your job? Why is it so hard to understand that what you’re doing is for their own good?

Stupid kids. Stupid villain. “You’d rather bleed out and die?”

The man bares his teeth at you, and it’s a pretty disturbing scene considering how they’re covered in scarlet. “You think they’re going to save me? Think I’ll go to the hospital and get all my HP restored?”

He’s mocking you now. You only have a second to move out of the way before he spits off to the side. “I mean…that’s how a hospital works.”

“If you think I would—make it out of that ambulance alive, you’re—dumber than you look.” His voice is interspersed with coughs.

“Well, you’re not going to live if I leave you here.” You hold up your phone, ready to call the ambulance, but in a shocking display of agility the man lunges forward and grabs it out of your hand. “Hey, wait! Give that…back…”

Your voice trails off as your phone crumbles—literally crumbles to dust in the man’s fingers. Once he’s satisfied that there’s no way for you to call the cops, he slumps back onto the trash bags and closes his eyes, apparently exhausted from the effort.

Goddamnit…! For a second, you can only stare blankly at the pile of dust that used to be your $300 smartphone. And then you’re seized by something, maybe not hatred but an annoyance so strong you can feel it in your throat, and you decide right then and there that this villain is not going to die. You’re going to save him. Out of spite.

You’re not sure how you manage to half-carry him from the alley to your apartment, but you do. You’re lucky it’s ass-o-clock at night and no one’s in the lobby or the elevator, or you’d definitely be getting some looks trying to lug a maimed body around. What would you say if someone did call the cops? Don’t worry, don’t worry about it officer, it’s just my friend drank a little too much, oh those wounds? We were at a costume party, haha…

But no one sees you, and no one calls the cops. The man is unconscious the whole time you’re carrying him, and by the time you have him laid out on a shower curtain on your living room floor his breathing is a little bit shallower than it was before. You’ve got your tools—nothing fancy, just some gauze and closures and antiseptic from your personal first aid kit. It’s not much, but it’ll have to be enough.

“Let’s get to work, asshole,” you tell the unconscious body in front of you, and you crack your knuckles.

///

The day after you pick the villain out of the garbage, your body decides that it’s not going to let you sleep in no matter how much you need it. You can tell because the huge windows in your bedroom—the only saving grace of this apartment, honestly—are depositing golden-pink sunrise light over everything you see when you open your eyes, including the villain’s face. Which is about six inches away from yours.

“You smell like death,” you tell him sleepily. He doesn’t move.

He’s…probably in his early twenties, you think, but it’s hard to tell because of all the wrinkles. His hair is on the longer side, and it’s striped with rusty brown smears from his blood. Again, you notice how red his irises are. Have you ever seen someone with eyes that color before? You’re pretty sure you haven’t.

“You slept for a long time,” the villain says, finally moving back so he’s not breathing into your mouth.

“Yeah, I was tired. From saving your life.” You sit up and rub your temples. “I’m thirsty…”

Before you can finish your complaint, the villain is holding a glass of water out to you in an awkward 4-fingered grip.

“Um, thanks, I guess.” You suck down the water and immediately feel better, enough that you realize how wrong it is that he’s up and moving around and probably undoing all your hard work. “You should be lying down.”

“The floor hurt, and I was bored.”

“Lie on the couch then. You can watch TV. But first—“ He’s sitting on the edge of your bed next to you, and you make him lie down flat so you can look at the injuries. They’re not nearly as bad as they looked last night—no walk in the park, but at least you won’t have a corpse in your apartment in a few hours.

When you’re done inspecting him, he sits up and asks you for a shirt. You had to cut his off, not that it was any great loss. The thing was shredded. Him pointing it out is the only thing that makes you really realize he’s shirtless, so you give him an oversized pajama shirt of yours. It has the name and motto of your old high school on it, and the villain reads it out in a half-mocking tone when you hand it to him.

“Beggars shouldn’t be choosers,” you snap. “You should be grateful.”

“I am grateful,” he says, putting the shirt on. “But I don’t understand.”

“I mean, you need a shirt, right? It’s cold—“

“No. Not that.” He’s staring at you again, and you find it difficult to maintain eye contact. “Why you didn’t leave me where you found me last night.”

There’s a lot you could tell him, all of it a little bit true. You were curious. You believed him when he said he wouldn’t make it out of the hospital alive. You couldn’t leave him alone the same way you can’t leave abandoned puppies alone. You wanted to prove to him that you were right, and that being stubborn wouldn’t get him what he wanted. But you don’t say that. “You killed my phone, so you owe me a new one. And I can’t get that back if you bleed out.”

He’s looking at you like he doesn’t believe you, and you fidget under his gaze until he sighs and says, “Whatever.”

You have to let him lean on your shoulder when he walks back to the living room to lie down on your couch. How the hell did he even get to your bedroom by himself? You really didn’t think this through—what are you supposed to do with an infirm possible villain who can barely walk unsupported without opening his injuries back up?

But that’s a problem for tomorrow you to deal with. Today, you’re content to set your laptop up on the coffee table so the two of you can watch TV in…oddly companionable (if you’re not imagining it) silence. It’s almost the lazy day off you were daydreaming about before you got yourself into this mess, and the atmosphere is so relaxed that before you can really decide whether to force the man to go to the hospital or turn him out on the street (or…?) you’re dozing off on your couch like there isn’t a potentially dangerous stranger lying beside you with his head just a few inches from your lap.

When you wake up, your problem is solved for you. He’s gone, and it’s like he was never there—except you’re down a cellphone and a pajama shirt, and your shower curtain is drenched with blood. You wrap it up with the rest of the soiled medical supplies and toss all of it in a dumpster a mile away from your building without knowing exactly why.

///

It’s not the last you see of him, but somehow you had a feeling that was going to be the case.

He scares the shit out of you the first time he visits (over time, that’s how you’ll start to think of his little unannounced drop-ins: visits. Like you’re being visited by a ghost or something). You’re coming back from another grueling shift in the ER, so tired you think you might be sleepwalking, and what do you find when you come in your apartment but a strange white-haired man sitting on your couch eating dry cereal out of the box and flipping through one of your books?

You nearly piss yourself.

He doesn’t seem surprised, which makes sense, considering he’s a villain and he’s probably used to pulling this dramatic entrance thing on people. He certainly doesn’t seem the least bit threatened when you brandish the mini canister of pepper spray on your keychain and demand that he tell you how he got in if he wants to retain the power of eyesight.

“It was unlocked,” he says.

“It was not unlocked,” you reply, rolling your eyes. You may be sleep deprived, but you’re not careless. Never careless.

“Whatever. Calm down. You’re not going to use that on me.”

He’s right, but you don’t want to admit it. If he wanted to do something to hurt you, he could’ve done it that first night. And you’re too tired to really put up a fight, so you just put the cap back on the pepper spray and flop down next to him on the couch. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He looks at you curiously from between his shaggy bangs, like you’re the one intruding in his home and not the other way around, then reaches out to hand something to you. “Here, payback.”

It’s a cell phone—not a smartphone like the one he destroyed, but a flip phone circa the 2000s, the kind that forces you to press “9” four times to get the letter “F”. You stare at it for a second, then look back at the villain. “Are you kidding? Did you get this from a museum?”

“Take it or leave it.” His feet are propped up on your coffee table, but you can’t make yourself care. Actually, it looks nice…him stretched out with an odd look of comfort on his lanky form.

You lean back on the couch and kick up your feet next to his. “Fine. Thanks, I guess.”

He shrugs.

“How are your wounds healing?” Why are you trying to make conversation with this guy? He’s…a villain, right? Not that you’ve ever received affirmative confirmation of that fact, but the hesitance to call the police and the breaking and entering are pretty good tells. But…it might be weird, but since you picked him up that day, you’ve felt a kind of kinship with him.

Alone. Abandoned. No place to go. No one to save him. It’s not a pretty comparison, but you can’t deny it rings true.

Maybe that’s why you pick up strays.

“They’re fine,” he tells you after so long a pause that you’ve almost forgotten your question. “Doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

You take a long look at him, at his posture—he’s relaxed, but his abdomen is crunched a little bit, curled in on himself so subtly that even you wouldn’t have noticed it if you weren’t looking. It’s not your problem. He’s an adult, and you’re sure he could be seeking real medical attention if he really needed it. You’re in no way obligated to perform some kind of checkup on this arrogant dick who literally broke into your apartment to give you a shitty phone and eat your cereal. The sensible thing to do is to tell him to forget that you live here and hopefully never see him again.

His head tips back to rest on the top of the couch, and he holds your book up to read. At this angle his long hair is out of the way of his face, and you notice among the deep-set creases in his skin a pair of wide scars across his right eye and on the corner of his lips. They’re pale and faded—old, then—but they look off to you, and after a while of snatching glances at his face you realize it’s because they’re healed badly, extraordinarily badly, the kind of healing that you don’t see very often because it only occurs when a stubborn patient tries to let a particularly nasty injury heal on its own. The part of you that isn’t sensible wonders how old he was when he got those scars.

Has he learned his lesson?

You doubt it.

“Lie down,” you sigh. “Let me see the cuts.”

Which is how you find yourself examining this annoying villain again, checking on his injuries and giving him recommendations for care like you’re his personal nurse or something. It’s not a role you enjoy playing, but at least he takes it without complaint, and you start to wonder if maybe this is why he broke into your apartment in the first place. If anything, he looks calmer when you’ve flipped up his shirt and prodded at his wounds, his eyes closing slowly and freeing you of that scarlet-red gaze.

He’s like a cat, you think, and then you shake your head and remind yourself that it’s a terrible idea to think of this man—this grown man who is probably a great danger to you and others—as a wild animal you’re trying to domesticate.

When he finally leaves (only after you drop a couple dozen unsubtle hints about how long you’ve been at work and how exhausted you are), you take a moment before you sink into bed to look at the flip phone. It’s no nicer than your original impression, but as you scroll through the screens you notice that it’s factory-new, except for one thing: there’s a contact programmed in, a phone number with an area code you don’t recognize listed under “T”. And you don’t want to be curious…

…but you are. Shocking.

Down the rabbit hole it is, you decide. So you text him.

///

[You: 12:03 AM] > Hey it’s (Y/N) > (the girl whose apartment you broke into) > What does T stand for? [T: 12:07 AM] > What do u think [You: 12:09 AM] > ?? [T: 12:09 AM] > My name > Dont you know who i am [You: 12:10 AM] > Are you famous? [T: 12:10 AM] > You dont watch the news do u [You: 12:11 AM] > Not really > What’s your name then [T: 12:12 AM] > … > Didnt u say u had to sleep [You: 12:15 AM] > Oh yeah > Whatever I guess > Good night

[T: 2:34 AM] > Its Tomura > Dont look it up

[You: 8:02 AM] > Ok > I won’t > Tomura

➠ [Part 2]

[randomfandominserts]

Zuko x Reader - Home

Request:  Hi! I wonder if you take requests. If that's the case would you maybe write something with Zuko please? Maybe Reader is really soft and friendly despite his efforts to push her away and gives him the feeling that hes enough, and that theres no need to return to his father. And he can't help but grow fond of her and get soft and maybe its the first time he lets her hug him and she kisses him on the cheek and he blushes?

Word Count: 4619

Note: So this is way longer and angsty-er than I was expecting it to be. It’s the first time I’ve written in a while so I’m super rusty but I hope you enjoy!

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It was never easy to be a Fire Nation run-away, a refugee with no way to express the loss you’ve had to face for fear of being banished from your new home. You were the child of a Fire Nation nobleman, a child who had been locked away from the world for years due to your lack of bending and possession of curiosity and empathy. Though you were usually soft-spoken and hesitant to disobey authority, you still made an effort to let those around you know you were against the Fire Lord and the war he supported. 

Your blatant disrespect for the Fire Lord’s rule at royal events led to your separation from the noble world, and eventually the entire world. Fire Lord Ozai was clear, very clear, that had you continued to let your presence disrupt his events, you would face a fate worse than death and your parents would be punished for raising such a disrespectful child. So you were locked away, with no one to see but your tutors and the parents who desperately tried to pass on their vicious world views. No amount of force or manipulation could influence you to think anything but poor thoughts of the Fire Nation. The point came where they wanted nothing more than to rid themselves of their wretched child, and they offered to have you sent to the Fire Lord’s prison on charges of treason. 

And so you left. 

You ventured into the world, escaping in the night with a satchel full of stolen coins and a month’s worth of bread. You walked and walked, then hid away on a ship to travel to the Earth Kingdom, then continued to walk, then bought an ostrich horse and traveled more. Eventually, after months of travel, you made your way into Ba Sing Se as a refugee, beginning your new life. 

Of course, life went on like this for months, until one day you ventured into your neighborhood’s tea shop and came face-to-face with two familiar men. Two very familiar members of the Fire Nation’s royal family. 

It took everything in you not to scream out in surprise. Were they here to take you back? Punish you for escaping your fate? Execute you for treason? How had they even gotten into Ba Sing Se? But Iroh quickly pulled you aside, the gentle smile on his kind face calming your nerves immediately. “(Y/N),” he said, “It is very good to see you again.” You decided that a reunion with a friendly face was just what you needed, so you invited the pair over for dinner to learn more about what had happened.

You learned of their journey to find the Avatar, and you learned of Azula’s betrayal and their flee to the Earth Kingdom capital. Iroh was welcoming of having you in his life. He was always a kind man during court events, escorting you out and giving you tea when you angered his brother. Zuko, on the other hand, was more apprehensive about having you around. He had heard your words in the past defaming his father and protesting the war. He was unsure that you would keep their secret. 

But you were much too kind to rat out two poor souls looking to move on with their lives. Besides, ratting them out only gave them reason to throw you under the bus as well. It was much better to simply throw caution to the wind and stick together. Keep your friends close and enemies closer, and anyone in-between stays close as well, you supposed.

With the help of the former royals, you were able to buy a much better place for the three of you. It was not fancy or even nice, but it was better than before and had two bedrooms, one for you and one for your housemates, and a living area rather than simply one large room. 

Life was good. You and Iroh grew closer, much to Zuko’s dismay. He still distrusted you and was hesitant to let himself get close to you for fear of betrayal. You tried, though. Every evening when you both arrived home from work you greeted him with a smile, and sometimes a small gift from the shop you worked at. He was never blatantly rude, always mumbling a quick greeting or thank you, but would always shuffle into his room without a second word. You were determined to get on his good side, but he never seemed to show himself to you long enough to break the surface. 

Slowly but surely, you and Iroh began to help Zuko warm to the idea of being your friend. Every day he would say a couple more words, stay out a little later before he shuffled to his room for the night. His (slight) openness warmed your heart, and you found yourself growing fond of the boy. 

One night, Iroh was out late with some men he played Pai Sho with. That meant you were in charge of feeding yourself and Zuko for the night. You cooked up an old recipe you had learned years ago and placed the platters in front of the both of you. 

“I hope you like it,” you started, watching as Zuko took a small spoonful into his mouth. “I haven’t cooked in ages.” 

“Thank you,” Zuko replied, swirling the food in his bowl. “It’s good.”

“It’s an old recipe that my grandmother taught me.” Zuko took another mouthful of food, quietly thinking over the words you said. 

“You must miss her,” he finally said. It was a statement rather than a question, and though he was unsure he painted it as though he was certain of himself.

“I couldn’t,” you countered, placing your own bite on your tongue. There was silence as Zuko watched you swallow your food, waiting for you to continue. “The things that my family has done, what would make me miss such corruption and misery?” You found yourself staring down at your bowl, the steam hitting your face in a comforting puff of heat. “It’s much like your father. You don’t miss him.” Your words shadowed his, an unsure statement once again presented as confident truth.

Zuko didn’t reply, instead opting to sip his water and stare past your head. You figured that meant the conversation had ended, so you sighed and continued to eat your food in silence. Zuko’s sharp breathing and the clattering of spoons against bowls were the only noises present until Iroh burst in through the door, cheerfully greeting you both. He paused once he sensed the tense atmosphere and settled at the table with you both. 

“What are you eating? It looks delicious,” he said, causing you to smile. 

“I’ll grab you a bowl,” you said, rising from the table quickly. Once you cleaned your bowl and filled one for Iroh, you headed back to the table. “It’s an old Fire Nation recipe. I think you’ll like it,” you told Iroh as you placed his food in front of him. Zuko continued to avoid your gaze, and you figured it was time to go. “I think I’ll head to bed now. Goodnight.” With that, you were off. 

.

.

.

You hadn’t been able to sleep. You were unsure of what time it was, but the black sky outside your window told you it wasn’t yet nearing the morning. With a sigh, you pushed yourself out of bed and off to the kitchen to fetch a cup of tea to soothe you to sleep. 

To your surprise, the kitchen wasn’t empty when you arrived. Zuko sat at the table, a cup of tea sitting on the table in front of him. He twirled the contents of the cup with a single heated finger, causing the contents to boil and bubble. As you shut your door, he swung around to meet your eyes with a questioning look. “I couldn’t sleep,” you said simply as you took the seat across from him. He nodded before standing to grab a second cup from the cupboard.

“Would you like some tea?” he asked, lifting the pot to begin his pour. “Don’t worry, my uncle made it before he went to sleep.” You nodded, taking the warm cup from his hands and sipping it. You both sat in silence for a moment, daring the other to break it. You decided to take the bait and set your cup down with a gentle thud.

“I apologize for what I said earlier,” you started, staring down at your mug. The lightly-colored liquid glistened in the light of the lone lantern Zuko had lit, and you couldn’t help but fasten your attention to the shimmering reflection rather than the grumpy prince. “I meant nothing by implying you didn’t miss your father. I only assumed-” 

“It’s fine.” He cut you off suddenly, his scratchy voice holding a sharp tone. “I don’t miss him. You’re right.” Though he tried to hide it, he always tried to hide it, you could hear the pain in his voice. You looked up and met his amber eyes, searching for answers.

“You must miss something.” There was something about the way he worded his sentence, something about the way he avoided looking directly at you. You could tell he wasn’t being entirely truthful, so you pushed. 

“I suppose I do.” He was curt, unwilling to give you the answer you desired, so you changed the subject before the tense silence you were both so accustomed to could swallow you whole.

“It’s beginning to feel like a home here, isn’t it?” You tried to give him a small smile, evoke a little emotion from the boy, but he stared blankly as you spoke. “The plants I bought from the shop bring a little light into this place.” 

“This isn’t a home.” Zuko stood abruptly, shaking the table as he pushed away. Drops of tea spilled over the top of your cup, splashing onto the wood of the table. “This isn’t my home.” He stormed out of the house, leaving no trace except his boiling cup of tea and your spilled one. You sighed before rising to clean up.

You traveled around the table to grab Zuko’s half-filled drink, only to immediately drop it at the feeling of the burning hot cup. You cursed as the hot contents spilled onto your bare feet and the cup shattered on the floor. At the sound of this commotion, Iroh slid open his door and peeked into the kitchen. 

“Zuko is gone. Is everything alright?” You gave no answer, instead sitting on the floor to look at your burnt feet and clean up the broken cup. Iroh stepped out into the kitchen to examine the situation, sighing when he saw your red feet and turning back to his room. He returned with a towel, a broom, and some bandages for your feet, and helped lift you to a seat to bandage yourself while he cleaned the spilled tea. You slowly wrapped your burns, unsure of what to say. Luckily, Iroh knew how to break the silence. “Did you fight?” he questioned. You shook your head. 

“We were having a discussion.” 

“A discussion.” Iroh’s hearty laugh filled the atmosphere, instantly bringing you comfort. “My nephew hardly knows how to have a discussion.” You shrugged, not knowing what to say. 

“I hadn’t meant to offend him.” You finished wrapping your feet and stood, testing to make sure the bandages would stay. “We spoke of his father, and he said he didn’t miss him, but he still sounded sad.” You stumbled to the flower pot which housed the small flowering bush you had brought home. It made the place feel so lovely, and it was such a beautiful addition to the dreary interior of your poor home. You sighed and brushed a finger over its leaves. “I spoke of home, this home. But this isn’t his home.”

“Come, sit.” Iroh walked over and helped you to sit in a chair at the table. He sat across from you and slid a cup across the table. “I figure you could use some fresh tea,” he said with a smile. You took a sip and smiled, silently thanking him for the warmth and comfort housed in the cup. 

The silence was once again broken by Iroh’s kind voice. “My nephew has been through many things. It has been a long while since he has had a place to call home.” 

“Of course. I never meant to invalidate him in any way.” You hadn’t meant to hurt or offend Zuko. It felt as though Ba Sing Se was becoming a home, a true home, for both you and him. “I only thought that we finally had something good, all of us. A home.” 

“And that we do.” Iroh took a sip of his own tea and let out a sigh. “But this is not the home my nephew wants. He desires a home with his family.” 

“You’re his family. Is this not enough for him?” You felt yourself getting worked up, and your tea threatened to once again spill over the edge of the cup that rested in your shaky hands. “How can he desire to go home to people who have hurt him?” 

“Family is a strange thing, (Y/N). As is desire.”

“His father scarred him. Banished him. What more proof does he need that there is no home where that man is?” Once again, drops of tea splashed onto the wood in front of you. Quickly, you set the tea down and rose from your chair. “Thank you for the tea. I think I’ll be heading to bed.” Iroh simply sipped his tea and nodded.

“Remember, it takes courage to stand fast in your beliefs. All are not as strong as you, (Y/N). All are not so certain.” You nodded your head before slipping away to your room. As you laid in bed, Iroh’s words echoed in your ears. Zuko desperately wanted a home with his family. He wanted acceptance, despite anything that may have happened to him. It broke your heart knowing that he wanted nothing more than his father’s love, even when his father cared so little of him.

.

.

.

“Zuko!” You called out to the taller boy, waving him outside. He was working, but the shop wasn’t busy and it seemed they had little to do.  It had been a couple of days since your tense chat, and though you both seemed to be back to normal you had yet to discuss what had happened. It was constantly on your mind, but you felt it was better to keep the peace than put Zuko in an uncomfortable position to discuss family with an outsider. “I’m about to head to lunch. Would you like to join me?”

He nodded in your direction, let Iroh know where he was off to, and stripped off his apron. “Where are we eating?” he asked as you walked down the stone streets. You held up a basket of food, a small smile on your face. 

“I thought we could picnic, if that’s alright?” Zuko once again nodded, and you two set off to find a nice spot to sit and eat. Your walk was silent, the only sound present being the beating of your feet against the stone path, but it was strangely comforting. Eventually, you came across an empty plaza and settled down by the fountain. As you worked to pull out the food you prepared, Zuko strolled around the plaza.

“Thank you for this,” he said when you finished, and plopped down next to you. “You don’t need to always cook for me.” 

“It’s not a problem,” you insisted, shoving some food in his hands. “Here, try this. You like spicy food, right?” With that, the two of you began your quiet meal. Zuko was, as usual, not very talkative, but you tried to fill the empty space with jokes and laughter. You even managed to get a small smile out of the dark-haired boy. 

All too soon, lunch was over and the two of you had to get back to your respective jobs. As you journeyed back through the streets, a sheet of paper floated down just in front of you both. Zuko reached out to pluck it from the air, eyeing it carefully. His eyes seemed to widen as he read the sheet. “What is it?” you asked, peering over to try and catch a glimpse. The sheet was quickly removed from your line of sight with a grumbled response telling you it was nothing, don’t worry about it. Unconvinced, you reached over and ripped the sheet from his hands, giving it a quick once over. 

“A… flying bison?” You were confused, why did a missing pet have Zuko in such a mood? You continued scanning the sheet until you reached the bottom, where it listed who to contact if the bison were found. “Oh.” You held the crumpled sheet back out to Zuko, and he was quick to snatch it from your hands. You felt a lump growing in your throat, unsure of what to say to the boy who stood beside you. The Avatar was in Ba Sing Se, and it seemed Zuko was ready to run after him and return back to his old life immediately.

“I have to go,” he said, but you reached out and grabbed his wrist to stop him from entering the shop.  At this moment words seemed to fail you, and you just stared up at him, sadness in your eyes. He avoided your gaze. He looked anywhere but at your accusing stare, anywhere but the disappointment your eyes held. Slowly, you loosened your grip on his wrist, and his arm dropped back to his side. “Thank you for lunch.” 

Later, you sat in your apartment helping Iroh brainstorm names for his new tea shop while you cooked dinner. Iroh had gotten the offer to have his own shop and a nicer apartment today, and upon hearing the news you decided to celebrate. Zuko stormed in while you were tossing around silly names, the crumpled flyer held tight in his hand.

“The Avatar is here in Ba Sing Se,” he said, holding the paper out to Iroh. You tensed upon hearing the words, knowing what conversation was to follow. “He’s lost his bison.”

Iroh was as displeased as you, and voiced his concerns to Zuko. The boy stormed off, leaving you and Iroh frozen in the kitchen. You softly stirred the food while Iroh continued to spout silly name ideas for the new shop.

.

.

.

That night, you were staring at the ceiling when you heard a noise from the front, followed by a quiet curse. You rolled out of bed and exited your room, only to find Zuko in the living area, shoes on and dual swords by his side. “Where are you going?” you questioned, causing the boy to jump.

“Out,” he replied simply as he dug through a box. What was he was searching for? You crossed the room to take the spot beside him and leaned over the box for a peak. It was full of random keepsakes, things you’d never seen before. Probably a box that was purposefully hidden away, full of things Zuko wanted no one else to see.

“Out,” you repeated, a hint of resignation in your voice. You knew exactly what that meant, and your suspicions were only confirmed when you saw Zuko pull a blue mask from the depths of his box. “You’re going after the bison, aren’t you?” 

“What do you think, (Y/N)?” He stood up, tucking the mask into his waistband. “I have to.” 

“You don’t,” you said gently. He shook his head at the thought and moved to turn away, but you grabbed his wrist and tugged, forcing him to turn back to you. “Zuko, this isn’t your responsibility anymore. You’re free. You’re finally free to be who you want, and yet you still choose this path of pain.” You tried to look to him, but he was looking away from you, hiding any emotion that he might be showing on his face. 

“You don’t get it,” he tried to say, but you scoffed at the thought. 

“No, you don’t get it, Zuko!” Rare as it was, you felt yourself losing your grip. He couldn’t see how much this was hurting him, or hurting his uncle, or hurting you. He couldn’t see that he had options now that he resided in Ba Sing Se. He couldn’t see the home that you and Iroh had built up for him. “You don’t understand how much you have. We have a home, Zuko, we have our little family. Iroh is happy! He’s getting his own tea shop. You’ll be able to enjoy your life, and yet you still want to do everything you can to make your father proud and go back to that wretched palace.” 

You were so frustrated and tears threatened to spill, but Zuko still refused to even glance in your direction. He tried to tug free of your grip, but you still held on tight. “Let go,” he said, his voice firm. You hesitated before complying, but he didn’t move immediately. 

“Can you at least look at me?” Your voice trembled. You didn’t have much left in you. The least he could do was look in your eyes while you pleaded with him to stay. It took a moment before he turned his head back towards you. His expression was blank, but his eyes betrayed him. Though you couldn’t decipher it, there was something hidden behind his gaze. Sadness, anger, guilt? You couldn’t tell. “You don’t have to go. Stay here. Be happy with us. Don’t do this, please.” 

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

“I know exactly what I’m talking about.” You tried to reach out to him, to grab his arm once again and tug him closer, but he stepped just out of your reach. “Zuko, there’s nothing left for you there. You may steal the bison or capture the Avatar, but then what? You return home to a family that doesn’t care for you as much as we do. They don’t love you at all.” He was turning away from you again, and you leapt forward to latch onto him. “Look at me. Please, just look at me and tell me honestly that you’ll be happier with your father than with us.” He couldn’t, and you knew he couldn’t. You tried holding his attention, but he tugged his arm away without a word and averted his eyes.

“I’m going. Don’t follow me.” Your pleas had fallen on deaf ears. Zuko tucked his swords into their holder and left, not even sparing you a second glance. You felt frozen in time as quiet tears streaked down your face.

After what felt like hours (but was likely only minutes), you shuffled to the back room and knocked on a door. It opened to reveal a sleepy-looking Iroh, but he immediately woke when he saw the state you were in. “Zuko’s gone.”

.

.

.

You barely slept that night, and you slept even less when Zuko came back with a fever. You stayed by his side, making sure he always had a cool rag on his head and some water nearby to drink. Iroh insisted you take turns watching over the prince, but you couldn’t help but worry. 

Iroh had told you what happened that night, and you were incredibly proud of Zuko. You knew it must have been hard for him to realize his path, but you were glad that this was the path that he had chosen. You wanted more than anything for him to have a chance at happiness alongside you and his uncle.

It was late at night when Zuko finally recovered from his feverish state. You were reading a book beside him and barely noticed he had risen when he decided to speak. “How long have I been sick?” You glanced over the top of your book to see the prince sitting up on the floor. He looked much better, albeit still a bit weak from the cold. You could hardly contain the smile that spread onto your face. 

“It’s only been a couple of days. Are you hungry?” You quickly rose from your seat beside him, but he reached out to you as you walked away. 

“Wait,” he requested. You slowed to a stop and returned to his side. “I wanted to thank you for what you said.” The complex mix of emotions you had seen in his eyes the night he left was now spread across his face. Sadness, anger, guilt, and now embarrassment? You couldn’t tell, but at least now he wasn’t hiding it. “You helped me realize that I do have a choice. I can be happy, I just need to choose it.” 

The smile on your face grew wider. “And you’re choosing us?” 

“I’ve realized you and my uncle are my real family.” You couldn’t contain your joy as you reached out to hug Zuko. He hadn’t noticed and was moving to get up, so you quickly stopped and regained your composure. You stood too, hoping the boy hadn’t noticed. 

“I’ll go get Iroh. I’m sure he’s excited to see you.” 

.

.

.

It was the first morning in your new apartment in the Upper Ring. You could smell Iroh cooking in the large kitchen, but you were distracted by the sight of Zuko watering the plants you had brought from your old apartment. He had gotten up much earlier than you, which didn’t usually happen, so it was a welcoming sight to see him glowing in the morning sun with your plants. 

“I didn’t think you liked those,” you said, causing him to jump. Once he saw it was you, he shook his head as he returned his attention to the plants. 

“They’ve grown on me,” he replied. You smiled and moved to his side, watching as he cared for the bush. He seemed so happy now, his usual scowl replaced with the hint of a smile and shining eyes. You wished you could watch the scene play out forever, but he broke the moment when he set the watering can down and turned to you. “You were right. They do make it feel like home.” He gave you a small smile, and your heart melted.

Without thinking, you stepped closer to him and wrapped your arms around him. He was taken by surprise and stood frozen for a moment, before gently wrapping his around you. “I’m so glad you stayed,” you said softly. “I’m glad you’re home.” You pulled away to smile up at him and quickly rose on your toes to peck his cheek. He immediately grew red at the kiss.

“I- uh, well, I’m glad I stayed too,” he stammered, turning his face away from you. Of course, Iroh chose that moment to enter the room. 

“Nephew, your face is as red as a tomato,” he said with a chuckle. “Has your fever returned?” 

“Of course not,” Zuko countered, before picking up the watering can and shuffling quickly out of the room to avoid any more conversation. With a knowing look on his face, Iroh shot you a wink and then let you know breakfast was ready. He exited, leaving you alone in the room. 

You reached out to gently stroke the leaves of the bush in front of you. You were all finally home. Only good things could be in store for your new-found family. With a small smile plastered on, you skipped off to the kitchen to enjoy the first breakfast of your new, happy life.

[danversxluthor]

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back  (Pt 2 of Seizing Life)

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As Loraine embraces her new freedom, her headaches get worse and new symptoms come to light. Lo wants her life to be normal but she can’t hide the obvious from her moms.

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

Loraine enjoyed her new found freedom over the next few weeks. She was able to take the bus to school again and walk around the city on her own. She even got to spend her afternoons alone at home before her moms got home from work. It was a small thing, but it was the little pieces of freedom in her day to day life that she missed the most. 

Today Loraine was homework free, a rare occasion given she went to a school hell bent on keeping students busy in preparation for high profile careers in demanding fields. Even though Loraine was exhausted, she decided to take the opportunity to make a stop at L-Corp to see what her mom was up to in the lab. She loved visiting L-Corp and seeing and playing around with the prototypes.  

“Hi Mom!” Loraine greeted as she walked into the lab. Lena was focused and looking through a microscope. “Whatcha working on?” Loraine sat on one of the lab stools opposite Lena. The teen’s body had been feeling a bit achy lately, possibly a side effect of going out and being more active thanks to her new found freedom.  

“A new biologic…” Lena was still focused on the microscope. “Its part of the cancer research I was telling you about.” Lena finally looked up. 

“As much as it is always a wonderful surprise to see you Lo, shouldn’t you be at home finishing your homework?” Lena raised a warning eyebrow. She couldn’t really be made at Loraine for visiting, but she felt it was her parental duty to instill some boundaries. Lena also didn’t want Loraine staying up too late, she had noticed Loraine seemed tired a lot more lately. 

“Finished it during lunch.” Loraine beamed with triumph. “Plus I haven't visited in awhile and figured it was time to see what you're doing to my future empire.” Loraine often joked with Lena about taking over the company. 

“Your empire, huh? Nice try, but you’ll have to earn it first Loraine.” 

“I know, I know…. Just making a prediction”  

“Come here I want to show you something R&D just sent.” Loraine followed Lena over to another lab table where a small cellphone sized device was displayed along with a slew of other engineering tools. “It's a therma projection radar. It can scan a person and project health risks for vital signs.” Loraine picked up a calibration tool and was fiddling around with it as Lena explained the science. Aparatenly the prototype was under performing and Lena was going to make some updates to it herself before considering any further manufacturing options. 

Clang clang. The tool that had been in Loraine’s hand crashed to the floor. Lena immediately stopped and looked at Loraine. 

“Lo, you have to be more careful.” Loraine quickly picked up the tool and set it back down on the table gently. 

“Sorry” Loraine apologized to Lena, hoping the tool wasn't anything custom made.

“It's ok,” Lena looked at Loraine trying to see if there were any signs of a potential seizure. Loraine noticed Lena’s concerned gaze.

“Mom, I’m fine. Just a little clumsy.” Loraine reassured and sat back down on the lab stool trying to conceal a yawn.

“And tired.” Lena added. 

“Ok, clumsy and tired.” Loraine conceded and looked down. She hated when her mom got overly concerned about her. Even though she knew it was her mom’s job to be worried about her, Loraine couldn’t help feeling like a burden.

“Are you sleeping ok at night?” Lena asked as she started packing away her research. 

“Yeah, I get plenty of sleep. It’s just been a long week that’s all.” Loraine tried to brush it off.

“Just let us know if you aren’t feeling well sweetie.” 

“I’m fine.” Loraine rolled her eyes and gave a heavy sigh.

“Ok.” Lena raised her hands in surrender not wanting to push the teen too much.

The pair headed off home in Lena’s private car shortly after. Even though Lena had more work, she wanted to give Loraine the chance to relax and maybe take a nap before dinner. Lena even got an email from Loraine’s science teacher expressing concern over the fact that Loraine fell asleep during his class. 

The ride was relatively quiet. Lena went through emails on her phone and Loraine just stared out the window trying to stay awake. The teen had had a dully headache for the past several days and it was starting to turn into a pounding headache. When they were finally home and in the garage, Loraine moved rather slowly to exit the car, her headache making her feel off balance. Every movement felt like a lot of work given how tired and achy Loraine was. Lena was out of the car and already waiting for Loraine near the door, wondering what was taking so long. Loraine stood up from the car, but the ground felt strange and unsteady. Loraine braced herself on the car and squeezed her eyes shut, the unsteady feeling made her feel slightly nauseated. Loraine tried to take a step but stumbled forward and fell to her knees. The driver rushed over to help Loraine up as Lena did the same. 

“Lo, are you ok?” Lena asked holding Loraine’s shoulders.

Loraine nodded and gave a small embarrassed smile. “Thanks Felix. I’m fine, really.” Despite her words Loraine’s voice seemed a bit shaky. Felix made sure Lena and Loraine were safely inside before taking off. 

Loraine had minor scrapes on her knees with minimal blood and mere scratches on her hands, nothing to be concerned about. Loraine’s movement still felt awkward and slow which she blamed on being tired. 

“Let's take care of those scrapes.” Lena walked toward the bathroom and looked back to see if Loraine was coming too. She noticed that Loraine was moving slowly and with greater care, as if she were afraid of falling once more. The truth was, Loraine still felt unsteady with each step and she just wanted to make it from point A to point B without another fall. 

Lena had Loraine sit on the small chair in front of her vanity as she kneeled and cleaned and bandaged Loraine’s knees and hands. Loraine was too tired to react to the sting of the antiseptic cream. When Lena finished up, she remained on her knees looking into her tired daughter’s eyes and asked once more. 

“Sweetheart , are you sure you’re ok?” Lena waited for Loraine to respond, but the teen just looked away. “Its ok if you’re not. I just want to know so I can help.” Lena took Loraine’s hand in her own and noticed the teen’s hand was shaking. All Lena wanted was to comfort and reassure her daughter. When Loraine finally looked back it was with tears trickling down her face. 

“I’m just really tired.” Loraine admitted quietly. She didn't have the energy to explain how the ground felts funny and besides she didn't want her mom to have even more reason to worry. Lena whipped away Loraine’s tears. She was relieved Loraine was talking to her but also worried there might be more to it than exhaustion. 

“That’s alright sweetie. Why don’t we get you in bed, hm? You can rest and I’ll come wake you for dinner. How’s that?” Loraine nodded in agreement and let her mom help her up and to her room. Loraine didn't even protest at the assistance. She was too tired and unsteady to pull herself together enough to get there anyway. Lena was surprised at just how unsteady Loraine was. 

Loraine slept for a couple hours, but was still exhausted when Lena retrieved her for dinner. 

“Mm not hungry.” Loraine mumbled into her pillow. 

“Sweetheart you have to have a little something to eat with your meds.” Lena gently pulled back the covers and ran her hand up and down Loraine’s back, which always seemed to coax Loraine out of a deep slumber. Instead of leaving, Lena helped Loraine up and stayed beside her just in case Loraine needed the support. Lena was happy to see that sleep seemed to do Loraine some good as the teen made it down the stairs without a problem.  

“Grandma Eliza still wants to know if you want cinnamon rolls or blueberry muffins for Christmas breakfast Lo.” Kara looked to Loraine, waiting for the teen’s response. Loraine had been awfully quiet throughout dinner and barely touched her food. “Loraine?” Kara tried again. 

“Just weighing my options,” Loraine joked, “it's a big decision, but I’m leaning toward the muffins.” 

“Good choice, those muffins are legendary.” Kara had tried many times to bake Eliza’s recipe but it never turned out quite right.

Clank Loraine dropped her fork causing a loud reverberating noise. 

“Sorry!” Loraine quickly picked up her utensil from the floor and went to get another from the kitchen.

“That's alright sweetie. While you’re in the kitchen could you get me a glass of water?” Kara asked.

“Sure.” Loraine retrieved the water and clean fork and dinner went by as usual. Kara noticed Loraine’s hand shaking as she set the water down in front of her. She gave Lena a concerned look, but Lena was already watching her daughter’s every move. The parents silently agreed to discuss later. 

As dinner continued Loraine seemed more and more withdrawn. She altogether stopped moving and was staring blankly at her plate. Internally Loraine was entirely consumed by the throbbing of her head, so much so that she was oblivious to the conversation around her. Lena got up from her seat and went to kneel by Loraine so she was eye level with her daughter. 

“Lo, sweetie, what's going on?” Lena asked in a quiet voice. Lena knew from her extensive research on seizures that not all types of seizures involve convulsions, some can simply look like someone staring blankly and being unresponsive. 

“Hmm…” Loraine seemed to come to, “Wh… what?” Loraine was trying her hardest to focus on her surroundings now, which was still difficult with her headache.

“Are you feeling ok, Loraine?” Lena asked, still kneeling in front of Loraine. Kara was up and prepared to help in any way possible if Loraine was about to have a seizure. 

“Sorry,” Loraine looked down to her plate then back up, “I’m just a little out of it... I think I just want to lie down.” Lena looked at Loraine unconvinced. Kara made sure Loraine got into bed ok before joining Lena back downstairs. To her surprise Loraine didn't even protest at the help, the teen was too out of it to realize what was happening. 

“How is she?” Lena asked.

“She’s exhausted, maybe even coming down with the flu or something.” Kara was lost in thought and concern. “I’ve just never seen her like this. I mean sure it was bad last year, but this is different, isn't it?” Kara looks to her wife, who is on her phone typing. 

“Alex agreed to see her tomorrow to run some tests.” Lena looked up from her phone. “You’re right, this is different or…” Lena trailed off in thought but shook her head.

“What is it?” Kara asked.

“Its… what if Loraine doesn't have a seizure disorder. What if the seizures were just one symptom of something else.” Lena had done extensive research on pediatric seizure conditions as well as other conditions that caused seizures. There were a few conditions Lena was concerned may match Loraine’s current state.

[ateezmakemeweep]

one, two, three.

seonghwa x reader x yeosang

word count: 8k

smut

you had really come to like hanging out with seonghwa’s friends. 

at first, he had been apprehensive, his hand rubbing at his neck nervously asking you for the tenth time if you were sure you wanted to meet them.

"seonghwa, of course i do," you whined to your boyfriend, pressing up on your toes to peck his cheek. "why wouldn't i?”

and you suppose, after you'd met them, you'd known why. 

they were an odd mix of chaotic and sweet, always thoughtful and polite towards you albeit they drove you crazy. almost to the point of wanting to rip your hair out but you had truly grown to love each and every one of them.

hongjoong was the one who always saved you when the younger ones got out of hand, smacking them on the heads lightly and pushing them away while he shot you a reassuring smile.

yunho was the one who was always able to lift your spirits, noticing right away when you weren't feeling your best; it's like from the moment he met you, he was in tune with your emotions.

san and mingi were the ones you'd, admittedly, create destruction with. 

it took one time of peaking your head in their shared room and seeing them beat the shit out of each other to immediately join in, laughing and screaming with them until you were red in the face.

wooyoung was another one of your defenders, though much more vocally than hongjoong; if anyone even looked at you funny, he was on their ass in a minute. 

screaming about how they better not mess with you or they'll have have to face the consequences.

jongho was the one boy you thought didn't like you at first. he was slightly cold in his demeanor, smiling politely and bowing his head at you but never trying to initiate conversation. 

it wasn't until he had gotten tipsy one night (off a singular wine cooler) that he became a little puppy towards you, going on and on about how nice and pretty you were and that you and seonghwa were the perfect match.

and last but certainly not least was yeosang - not something you ever thought you'd admit, the boy had caught your eye immediately. 

there was something about him, his face and his voice and even his hands, just everything about him drawing you in the same way seonghwa did when you first saw him.

and, quite honestly, because of that, you should've expected the events that were to come. 

you never understood the concept of having more than one partner, thinking that finding a balance was probably difficult and surely that you'd have to favor one a little bit more. 

but the coming months proved that, sometimes, there was more than one person meant for you.

friday, june 19th

the rain was pouring down after your summer class, thunder and lightning crackling through the dark sky and causing you to grow more and more nervous.

seonghwa was usually waiting outside your building every monday and friday night, hating when you took the bus and insisting that you never do. 

but a work obligation had him two hours away in a different city, the way he kissed your head and mumbled his apologies over and over making your heart really hurt right now.

you always needed him in this type of weather. 

it felt silly and juvenile and even a little embarrassing, to be a full grown woman and terrified of storms; but what wasn't there to be scared about? loud booming noises and weather that had the potential to completely destroy the things in its path.

right now, that thing was you. 

the prospect of walking to the bus stop on the other side of campus, getting drenched and whipped with wind one of your worst nightmares. just as you were about to accept your fate, you felt your phone vibrate in your back pocket. 

your eyebrows furrow when you see yeosang's name on the screen:

don't even think about taking the bus.

your head snaps up as your eyes survey the parking lot in front of you, mouth dropping open and quirking into a smile when you see his familiar black car. you place your books atop your head as you run to the vehicle, ducking your head in and taking in the scent of his car.

it smells just like him, a mix of men's cologne and something distinctly yeosang.

"thank you," you smiled gratefully at him. "i didn't know you were coming."

"seonghwa asked me to get you," he tells you, making your entire body still when he reaches over you. his arm brushes past you as he hums lowly, grabbing the seatbelt and snapping it in before sitting back in his seat.

"i-i could've done that," you told him nervously. 

he always did things like that, even in front of seonghwa. 

help you in ways where he just barely touches you, like tying up your shoe laces or placing his hand on your waist when you stretch up to grab things on the top shelf. 

he only smirks at you, pulling out of the parking lot and making his way back to the house. 

"how was school?"

you go on about the last session of your summer class, expressing how grateful you are for it to be over and telling him all about your scary professor. about how he'd call students out for no reason at all, make them read off their test answers and blankly stare at them if they asked any questions.

"i truthfully don't know what he wanted from us," you complained, hands flailing with a pout on your face before you mumble, "fuckin' bruce."

a snort leaves him as he looks over at you, the smirk on his lips causing a blush to creep on your face. 

"what?"

"nothing," he says, "you're funny." 

a crack of thunder and lightning fills the sky and he watches you flail in your seat, a tiny, surprised squeal leaving your mouth. his eyebrow raises as obvious fear and terror cross your face, your shaky exhale heard throughout the car.

"you scared of thunder?"

"no," you answer immediately, wanting to close your eyes in embarrassment; you couldn't have made that any more obvious.

and with the way he's looking at you, he knows it too, even though he just nods head and smiles softly at you.

"what do you want for dinner? the boys are expecting us to bring shit home so you know the house is probably in chaos."

thirty minutes later when you arrive with ten boxes of chicken, that's exactly what you walk into. 

the boys running to the door with a mix of dramatic groans and excited squeals, being suffocated in hugs like you'd been gone for four years and not just four hours.

"stop," you giggle out quietly, finally prying each and every last one of them off you before setting up the food. yeosang was quick to push you out of the kitchen, guiding you over to the tv and telling you to pick something.

you spend the rest of the night eating and watching a marathon of movies, face timing seonghwa and showing him all of the boys sleeping on top of one another.

"they're like a psychotic litter of puppies," the boy says, smiling at you from miles away in his hotel room bed. you giggle in agreement, your eyes moving to the window when the incessant rain and thunder pounds down on the glass.

"still raining?" he asks softly. 

your mouth turns into a small pout, nodding your head as you rest your chin atop your knee. he lets out a sigh, his hand running through his hair as his eyes soften.

"i'm sorry i'm not there with you, baby," he says quietly. 

and like you're somehow not used to it, the sweetness of your boyfriend and the way he's always so mindful of you, tears spring to your eyes. 

"my love, please don't," he begs once he sees them gloss over, pain and sadness creeping into his voice.

"i'm sorry," you sigh out, "i just...i wish you were here." 

it feels like seonghwa's heart shatters, his feet threatening to spring up from his bed to pack up his bag and make the two hour ride back home.

"just try to do what we always do," he suggests softly, the white noise speaker and weighted blanket in his room half of the trick in getting you to sleep during these nights. 

"and you can always call me. wake me up, i don't care."

"i'm not gonna wake you-" his stern look causes the words to die in your throat, mumbling an "okay," a few seconds before a pleased, almost cocky smile makes its way on his face.

"good, baby," he says and then his eyes quickly turn into something else you're all too familiar with. another method, probably your favorite one, in getting you fast asleep. 

"do something else for me now?"

it's in the way his voice drops, tongue flicking out to wet his lips, that has heat building between your legs. has him telling you to go into his room and get on the bed, the command in his voice already so strong and demanding.

he makes you prop the phone up toward you so he can see the expanse of your face, stomach and hips, his voice lowly telling you to do as he says. it's how you end up taking off your shirt, bra and shorts, leaving you panting on the bed with hard nipples and a soaked thong.

"seonghwa," you whined out already, every time you attempt to stick your hand in your underwear met with his firm "stop."

"over them first, baby. you know the rules."

you cry out the second your finger grazes your lace-covered clit, glossy, lustful eyes shooting to look at him watching you through the screen. you're met with the sight of him laying there shirtless, his cock resting on his stomach as he watches you begin to get yourself off.

"i want you," you whine lowly to him, breathing turning shallow as your finger starts to move faster and more purposeful on your throbbing clit. "fuck, seonghwa."

"you're doing so good," he says, voice strained and deep as you watch him take his cock in his hand. "close your eyes for me."

"but i wanna see-"

"close them."

you let out a whimper as you allow your eyes to roam over him, feeling your stomach tighten at the way his hand is slowly stroking himself up and down. the way that should be your hand and he should be the one-

"y/n."

you close them immediately at the sound of your name falling from his lips, your pouting mouth falling open as you feel yourself grow wetter by the second.

"that's my good girl," he says. "how do you feel, love? are your fingers gonna fuck you well?"

a tiny cry leaves your lips as you shake your head. 

"why not, baby? what's wrong?"

"they're not yours," you whine. "i want...you to fuck me."

"i can't baby," he grunts out. "as much as i want my fingers in your pretty little pussy." 

you bit your lip hard at his words, the small cry blaring through his speakers causing his cock to throb. 

"and then i'd be sure to fuck you like the good girl you are."

your glossy eyes flutter open, full of lust and desire as you ask him if you're allowed to finger yourself; the moment you hear his strangled "yes," you moan out at the feeling. 

your mind picturing him beside you, his fingers pounding in and out of you, thumb skillfully on your clit as the groans you hear coming from your phone vibrate in your ear.

"how does that feel now, baby?" he asks, "you look so pretty fucking yourself for me."

you feel your legs start to shake, your own hand traveling up to tweak at your sensitive nipple the same way he does to bring you over the edge.

"i wanna come for you," you say, "please let come for you."

and it's at this moment, you should've realized that the door wasn't locked. 

but you're so fucked out by your own fingers and seonghwa's voice and how close you are to your release that you don't hear the door open. 

you don't hear a quiet gasp leave the intruder's voice nor do you see how they linger in the doorway for a few silent moments.

"come for me baby. come all over your fingers for me and let me hear you be my good girl."

and then like a good girl, your legs tremble as the tight knot unravels and your loud, whiney moans ring through the air. 

you don't even think about how loud you're being, truthfully not even caring as pleasure rips through you and you ride out your high on your own hand. you hear the familiar sound of seonghwa releasing shortly after, his grunts and groans of your name carrying out the rest of your orgasm.

once the ringing in your ears stop, the sounds of you and seonghwa's heavy breathing filling the room, you're finally able to open your eyes. 

your vision is spotty at first, swearing you see a figure standing a few feet away in the doorway. your body tenses in fear and embarrassment, rubbing at your eyes with the hand not cupping your thong before looking again.

it must've just been a fluke, you think, something weird clouding your vision, because when you look back up, your door is closed and it's just you and seonghwa.

"how do you feel now, baby?" he asks you breathlessly. you turn on your side to see seonghwa's eyes are still closed.

"good," you tell him quietly, almost shyly; you guys have only done this a handful of times and each and every time, it makes you a little embarrassed.

"you did good for me, love," he says, his release on his stomach that would usually be seeping down your legs by now. "i can't wait to fuck you when i get back."

you laugh into your pillow slightly, cheeks warming at his words as you nod your head sleepily. 

"ah, did you tire yourself out?" he asks teasingly, feeling his heart ache that he can't clean you up and hold you as you fall asleep.

he can only watch as you succumb to your exhaustion after a few passing moments, his softly spoken "i love you" and "i'll be home soon" humming you to sleep.

you had hoped it was gonna be enough. 

that the power of an orgasm brought on by you and your boyfriend would be enough for you to sleep through the stormy night - but a loud crack of thunder rips you from sleep, your body shooting up and your chest heaving in fear. 

you immediately reach your hand out to the side, feeling the cold empty sheets and about ready to cry when you remember seonghwa isn't here tonight. 

that you're gonna have to sit through the storm all alone and be a big girl - but that's easier said than done. 

after what feels like an hour (but was really only fifteen minutes) you throw on a long t-shirt and pad your way into the kitchen. you fill yourself up a glass of water and down the cold liquid, placing the cup in the sink as you grip the counter.

you noticed all the boys had gone into their respective beds at some point in the night, the dark empty room in the apartment lighting up from the chaos and destruction outside. 

you feel tears prick your eyes, feeling so stupid for being scared and upset about this.

"you have to calm down," you mutter, wrapping your arms around yourself in a sad attempt at comfort. "it's fine. everything's fine. it's just-"

"y/n?"

the familiar deep voice rips you from your distressing monologue, squinting your eyes in the dark to see yeosang making his way over to you hesitantly. he keeps a good distance between you two, looking your body up and down before his eyes fix on (aha) something behind you.

"are you okay?"

it's like the very question causes you to lose it, a tear rolling down your cheek that you're quick to wipe with your wrist.

"yes. no. i don't know," you stutter out quietly. "you're gonna think it's dumb." 

he takes your hand and guides you over to the couch, taking a seat next to you before turning to face you.

"try me," he says quietly, his eyes carefully watching your face.

it's then you tell him you're slightly embarrassing fear of storms. 

how ever since you were the little, the sounds of heavy rain and thunder have traumatized and disturbed you. how it keeps you up and sends you into a panic, almost nothing able to help you through a bad stormy night.

"almost nothing?" he asks curiously, his eyebrow raised as his head rests in his hand. "what's the one thing?"

you bite your lip nervously, your tooth digging into the sensitive pink skin almost to the point you draw blood.

"so...someone with me, usually helps. like...sleeping with me," you stutter out. 

"i usually have seonghwa but now he's not here. and he said i could call him and wake him up, but i don't know. it's not the same. and i don't wanna bother him."

he listens to your rambling carefully, parts of him feeling very conflicted.

because on one side, he wants more than anything to help you. he hates watching you be scared and thinking that you're gonna spend the rest of the night being haunted by your worst fear.

but on another, he's... not sure if it's right, given what he walked in on earlier that night and is pretending not to know about now. how greatly it affected him and how after his body refused to let it go, he had to get himself off in his bedroom.

"i guess that's kind of sad, right?" you laugh out in embarrassment. "i know, it's weird because i'm a literal adult but-"

"it's not sad," he's quick to clarify, "i was just... i don't wanna make you uncomfortable but..." 

he sees your eyebrow raise as you look at him, feeling a lump grow in his throat at your soft, wide-eyed stare.

"we can....sleep out here, if you want," he suggests quietly. "i'll sleep on the couch with you." 

he wouldn't feel right taking you into his bed but he also wouldn't wanna sleep with you in seonghwa's bed without the boy's permission; he thinks his best friend wouldn't mind the couch, given that you're terrified and need sleep.

"r-really?" you squeak out with a small smile. "i mean don't feel like you have to..."

"i don't," he insists with a small smile. "i want to."

that's how you end up laid out on the couch, yeosang behind you as you watch a random late night movie. 

you feel your eyes start to droop, yeosang's lowly spoke question "is this okay?" as his arm casually wraps around your waist. you can only nod sleepily, knowing that there's already not much space given the tight fit of the couch.

another crack of thunder has you jumping in his hold, pushing yourself back on him as a tiny sigh leaves your mouth. 

"it's okay," his deep voice drones lowly in your ear, "you're okay." 

you hum lowly as you nestle yourself further into his warm body, shimming your hips back as his hand strokes your arm calmingly.

it's taking everything in him not to crack, his stupid male brain remembering the way you were laid out on your bed. 

your moans ringing through the air as you rubbed yourself between your shaky legs. he could only imagine how your face looked, eyes squeezed in pleasure and mouth hanging open as your finger slammed in and out of your tight, wet-

"yeosang?" he hears you mumble lowly. 

because unless he's harboring the tv remote in his pants, you're pretty sure his dick is rock hard and resting against your ass.

"hm?" he mumbles lowly in your ear, his brain pounding with lustful thoughts he know he should feel ashamed of.

"are... are you good?"

when he's about to ask what you mean, almost teasingly do you rub against his bulge again. 

a shaky breath leaves his mouth as he tightens his hold on your waist, embarrassment flooding through him and he thanks god that you can't see his reddening face.

"shit, y/n," he grunts out. "i'm sorry."

"it's okay," you mumble out, feeling ashamed at just how much you like the feel of him pressed up against you. "it happens."

"does it?" he hums, humor and sarcasm in his tone. "because i don't think seonghwa would appreciate it."

you don't say anything but the voice in your head says otherwise, recalling bits and pieces of conversations with seonghwa about potential threesomes and what not when he noticed you eyeing the boy in question.

"would you ever be into that?" he asked you one night. 

you had been so embarrassed and flustered by him calling you out, your eyes roaming yeosang's body and hands and flushing at the thought of them on you.

"what?" you asked innocently. 

your boyfriend only raised his eyebrow, taking your face in his hand and shaking his head at you.

"you think i'm fucking stupid, baby girl?"

your eyes widened immediately, thinking he was about to be mad or jealous and yell for the first time in your relationship. 

"i see the way you look at him," he told you simply.

"it's not like that, seonghwa," you insist, your hand coming out to run through his soft hair. "i just...think he's handsome."

a smirk crosses the boy's face, nodding his head at you before pecking your nose. 

"well if you ever wanna...do something, just tell me." 

you look at the boy in shock at first, cheeks flushing and core clenching as you ask what exactly he means by something.

"he's my friend, one of my best friends," the boy tells you. "i wouldn't mind sharing what's mine if you wanted to give him a try."

you nearly passed out right on the spot, eyes widening and mind already clouded with some of the fantasies you pictured on lonely nights. 

seonghwa taking you from behind as you swallow yeosang's cock, yeosang watching as seonghwa eats your pussy and the boy pushing him aside to get a taste, hearing both of their moans and groans as they release onto your body.

his hand traveled down to your pants, slipping it inside and chuckling lowly when he feels wetness has started to gather. 

"you like the sound of that?" he hummed in your ear, his breath ghosting over your sensitive skin and causing your breath to become strangled. "you want me to watch my friend make this needy little pussy come?"

"not watch," you whine quietly, spreading your legs further for him as he slowly circles your clit. "bo-both of you."

you can't see the sadistic smile that crosses his face, his finger slipping inside of you and causing to gasp out. 

"what you want, you get pretty girl. just let me know when."

"i actually don't think he would mind," you hummed lowly, pressing further into him and moving yourself against him. his quiet groan rips right through your core, spurring on the way you rock back and forth until his hold your waist tightens

"y/n..." he warns lowly.

you turn around to meet his gaze, his eyes dark and blazing down at you like he's trying so hard to keep it together. keep something lustful and brewing at bay. 

but now it proves to be nearly impossible, with your eyes looking up at him with a matching expression.

"what are you doing?" he asks you, voice strangled and gruff. "i...i can't-"

"seonghwa said he doesn't mind sharing," you tell him, voice breathy and sweet, "we've talked about it before." 

his eyes widen at the confession, unsure if he's more shocked by the fact you wanna do something right now or the fact that you and seonghwa had discussed this before.

something about it still doesn't feel quite right, so immune to the thought of you and seonghwa, that you're seonghwa's and no matter how badly he wanted you, he couldn't have you.

but with the way your breathing has synced, flush against one another's chest and feeling the heat radiating off each other, he feels himself quickly losing it. 

feeling himself move closer and closer to you until his lips touch the hot skin of your neck. you whimper at the feeling, arching your neck back so he gets easier access.

it does just the trick, his lips tentatively placing kisses down your hot skin. it causes your stomach to flip, the excitement and fear that comes with having a new man on top of you hitting you all at once.

"i've been wanting to do this for so long," he mumbles into your neck, his hand coming up so his thumb can trace your rapid pulse point. "you're such a pretty little thing and i saw the way you'd look at me."

your cheeks flush in embarrassment at getting caught, knowing you weren't subtle in the slightest but also hoping, by some miracle, he wouldn't catch on. 

like in some sort of bold retaliation, you throw your leg over his and grind yourself over his bulge.

"i...couldn't help it," you mumble, your words getting cut off last minute when you feel his his tongue slip out of his mouth. quiet hums leave you as he assaults your neck, licks and light bites and kisses that have you palming him over his pants.

just like seonghwa, you're quick to find out he's bossy - tells you to stop playing and touch his cock before he flips you onto you're back, like that's really some sort of threat. 

desperate to see just what he's been hiding, you stick your spit-covered hand down his pants and boxers and bite your lip when you feel his hard, long length.

"oh, god," he mumbles, shutting his eyes at the feel of you stroking him up and down. 

it'd be too much in normal circumstances, let alone that just a few hours before, he'd done the same thing to himself after seeing you. that you're right in the living room where anyone could walk out and catch you both.

"you're so good," he grunts out, convinced for most of his life that no one would give him a better hand job than himself. 

you seem to prove him wrong, twisting and tugging in all the right ways to have him on the edge of coming after just a few minutes. 

and when you politely ask him to do just that for you, your soft quiet voice whispering "come for me," he buries his face in your neck to muffle his moan.

you pull your spit-covered hand out of his pants and smile at him shyly, making your way over to the kitchen on shaky legs. 

after washing your hands of him, you make your way back to the couch to see his eyes closed, head resting back on the arm of the couch as his breathing is turned more even.

his eyes pop open when you take your spot in front of him, his arm wrapping around your waist again and pressing against your stomach. 

"it's your turn, isn't it?"

"you don't have to," you insist, the throbbing wetness between your legs saying otherwise. you don’t hear him say anything for a few moments, figuring that he's like you in the sense that an orgasm puts him right to sleep.

your eyes are closed for a few minutes, probably would've been able to succumb to sleep if not for the ache in the lower half of your body, when you feel his hand cover you. 

you keep your eyes closed but bite your lip, whining lowly and hoping, praying, he's just gonna take control.

"i can't go to sleep knowing you're like this," he says lowly in your ear, rubbing over your shorts and smirking when a low moan leaves your mouth. his hand sneaks in as his finger teases at your slit, breathing sharply when he feels how wet you are. 

"jesus christ," he grunts out, sounding genuinely pained. "fuck no."

and with that, his finger slides easily into you and you push yourself back on him again. his finger moves in and out of you steadily, his thumb circling your clit and lowly speaking into your ear. 

he tells you how long he's thought about having his fingers in you, how he knew your pussy would be this tight and warm and how if given the chance, he would fuck the life out of you.

"you want that?" he asks lowly before commanding, "tell me."

"yes," you whine out, "yes, yes, yes."

"well, you can't get that," he teases, dropping a kiss to the area where your shoulder and neck meet. "not yet, anyway. so you need to come on my fingers."

just a few seconds later, you do exactly that.

sunday, june 21st

seonghwa gets home early that morning, sneaking in to his room and smiling at the sight of you fast asleep in his bed. 

he sheds himself free of clothes and crawls in next to you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he nuzzles his face into your neck. the movement causes you to stir, moaning sleepily before turning in your boyfriend's hold. 

"hwa," you mumble, burying your face in his chest and inhaling the familiar scent of him.

"hi, baby," he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "i missed you."

"missed you too," you slur tiredly, smiling lazily when you hear his quiet chuckle. your arm is quick to wrap around his waist, pulling yourself closer into him and falling back asleep in the comfort of his arms.

when you both wake a few hours later, the late morning sun streaming through the window, he bends down and pecks your lips. 

"how was your weekend, love?"

a flush crosses your face when you think back to the events of friday night, the way you and yeosang fooled around on the couch and he murmured words that you hadn't been able to stop thinking about.

"it was... good," is all you say, knowing your cheeks and eyes are damn well about to give you away.

"but?" he asks lowly. 

you let out a quiet huff, shaking your head at how well he knows you.

"i... yeosang stayed with me during the storm." his lips quirk to the side, raising an eyebrow at you as he props himself up on his arm.

"yeah? what happened?" he asks, eyes roaming your face; they don't hold any jealously or anger or insecurity, just a genuine curiosity.

"we... cuddled on the couch," you start off, the boy nodding because, okay yeah, all the boys cuddle with you. that's nothing for you to blush and get shy over. 

"but then... i gave him..." it felt weird to confess these things to your own boyfriend, despite the mutual ground you stood on when it came to that.

"tell me, y/n, it's okay," he says softly, his hand moving to your cheek and stroking it softly. "we talked about it, i know."

"i gave him a hand job and he fingered me."

he nods his head, almost like you told him the date and time before a smirk crosses his face. 

"yeah?" he hums lowly, "no fucking though, right?"

you immediately shake your head and he smiles proudly, replacing his hand with a pair of lips. 

"good," he says after pecking your cheek. "i gotta be there for that."

you bite your lip, nodding your head and feeling excitement rush through you at the thought. 

that you get to be with seonghwa without the phone screen in the way, that you'll get to experience yeosang's skilled fingers again and have both of them with you in the most intimate way.

"but for now," he says, pushing you gently onto your back and dipping his head to place kisses over your exposed thighs. "i need to eat this pussy myself.”

wednesday, july 15th

there wasn't a free night for you, seonghwa and yeosang for another three weeks - but once the time finally came, the rest of the boys either at the movies or dinner, seonghwa didn't waste a second. 

the three of you were lounging out in the living room all day, your boyfriend and yeosang throwing each other knowing looks like they had discussed the past weekend events without you.

it started when seonghwa mumbled your name ten minutes after san closed the door. 

you lifted your head off his shoulder, smiling up at him softly before seeing that familiar look in his eye. it drops ever so slightly, feeling yourself swallow as you remember yeosang had adamantly declined going out with the rest.

"we were thinking," he began, nodding his head toward yeosang like your pussy didn't already sense what was about to come. "you wanna show me what i missed that friday?"

your eyes widen at his words, lips growing dry as you look at both the boys staring at you. 

"i-i guess, but i-"

yeosang laughs at your stuttering, seonghwa shooting him a look that immediately has it turning into a fake cough. 

"it's okay if you don't," he says softly, "we just thought...it might be fun."

"no, i do," you answer quickly, far too quickly that it causes you to blush. "i just... what do i do? isn't it gonna be kinda weird?"

seonghwa only strokes your cheek, smiling down at you as he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. 

"whatever we tell you to do, love. that's normal, isn't it?"

your eyes widen as you timidly nod, looking at yeosang who's been intently watching you and seonghwa. 

he watches the way you fall so comfortably into his touch, how your eyes look at him with so much trust and affection while his show a certain sort of protectiveness in them.

a protectiveness that comes out even more when seonghwa looks at his friends.

"take care of her. if at anytime she tenses or hesitates, stop."

"no shit, hwa," the boy says before smirking teasingly. 

he taps on his lap where he's sitting on the chair, legs spread slightly as he leans back cockily. 

"now come here, beautiful."

seonghwa rolls his eyes at the boy, patting you on the butt encouragingly and watching carefully as you stumble over. 

you stand in front of yeosang a tad unsure, feeling more than ready to continue where you left out a few nights ago but also a little nervous.

with an audience is hard enough but when that audience is your boyfriend?

"let’s show seonghwa how good i made you feel," he says lowly to you, the man’s face turning into a sneer; it'd be in his friend’s best interest not to make this a competition.

you smile softly when you hear your boyfriend scoff, turning around to throw him a wink before straddling yeosang.

his cocky demeanor only grows stronger, gripping your hips as he moves you back and forth over him. you're quick to take over, looking at him as your teeth dig into your bottom lip.

"there you go, baby," he encourages before grabbing you by the jaw and forcing you down. "that's how it all started, right? because you couldn't stop grinding your ass all over my cock."

your breath falters at his words, face flushing but increasing your speed slightly. 

he stares down at your lips, wanting so badly to take your mouth and allow his tongue to explore it. he looks to seonghwa who's just sitting on the couch, watching your shorts-covered ass grind back and forth skillfully.

"can i kiss her?" yeosang asks gruffly; the man only shrugs, nodding his head toward your figure.

"why are you asking me?"

so when yeosang asks you, eyes deep and dark as they look into yours, you're the first to make the move. 

slamming your lips on to his and moaning into his mouth when his hands immediately go to grab your ass. his tongue slips right through, swallowing your moans as he moves his hand up your shorts to squeeze and knead your skin.

"i know she's soaked right now," you hear seonghwa say, breaking the kiss to turn around and see him sitting there in his shirt and boxers. 

your lips are red and slightly puffy, yeosang's assault on your mouth making you look extra pretty. seonghwa gives you a reassuring look, quirking his eyebrow as if to say 'should we go on?'

and when you eagerly nod your head, a smirk crosses his face; before he can say anything, yeosang pulls his hands out of your shorts. 

"that true, y/n?" 

you lick over your lips slowly, looking him up and down before you nod your head.

it causes yeosang to spring up from his seat, grabbing you so your legs are wrapped around his hips as he walks over to throw you down on the chaise of the couch. 

you land with a surprised squeal, watching as he shoves his pants down in one go. he bends and slowly drags your shorts and thong off, looking at your underwear in satisfaction. 

he balls up the underwear and throws it towards seonghwa, eyes trailing every inch of your body with a lustful expression.

"you were right," the boy hums, trailing his finger in between your thighs. "good girl is all wet and ready for us."

you can't see the way seonghwa is twirling your lace around his finger nor can you see the outline of his cock protruding in his boxers. you can only focus on yeosang trailing his fingers up and down your slit, circling your wet hole and causing you to whine out his name.

"hear that, hwa?" the boy says, humor and amusement in his tone. "sounding like a needy little bitch."

your eyes roll back and whether it be your degradation kink kicking in or the way his fingers brushes over your clit, you don't know. but when you mumble a "please," you hear seonghwa tell yeosang to stop teasing.

"is this better then?" yeosang hums lowly, sliding two fingers in you quickly and placing his tongue on your clit. 

it's a move that completely throws you off, something between a moan and scream leaving your mouth. you throw your arms back to hold onto the couch, lifting your hips up and grinding against his face in an attempt to feel more of him.

"answer him, baby," seonghwa demands, his head hung back as he jerks himself slowly. 

and so, of course, you do as he says. cry out a mantra of “yes.” as his tongue flicks over you skillfully and his fingers curl up into you.

"oh, my god," you screech, one hand leaving the couch to fall into his hair. 

you pull and twist at the strands, digging his face further into you that only seems to encourage him. you feel your legs start to shake, chest heaving up and down as a powerful orgasm is about to flood right through you.

the boy pulls back and wipes his face just before you come, your face twisting into one of absolute frustration and devastation until you see seonghwa's figure looming over you.

"hi, love," he says, bending down before he wraps his hand around your throat. "you like being quite the little whore, don't you?"

you lick your lips as a pout forms on your lips, disappointment flooding through you as your pussy aches from having your orgasm taken away. 

"s-seonghwa, please."

"please what?" he asks, tightening his hold ever so slightly as he slams his lips on yours. "please let you be a little whore?"

you look at your boyfriend, wondering if it'd be in your favor to nod and fully accept this role - if being a little whore means you get to come, then you certainly don't mind it.

"because baby girl, if that's the case," he says lowly, taking you by your hips and flipping you over so you're on all fours. "then we'll fuck you like one."

you whimper and whine pathetically, the cool air on your wetness doing absolutely nothing to help the ache. it just makes it worse, looking back at the two men with raging cocks and dark stares and nodding your head desperately.

"please," you say, eyes moving between both of them. "yes. i want to make both of you come."

seonghwa smiles and brushes your hair lovingly, placing a kiss on top of your head before looking at yeosang. 

"me first," he says, standing behind you as he lines his cock up with your hole. "let her suck you, she's fucking amazing."

when seonghwa enters you with a snap of his hips, yeosang immediately juts himself into your mouth. you cry out around his cock, balancing yourself on one arm as you lick yeosang up and down. twist your hand on the parts your mouth doesn't reach and eagerly muffle your moans around him.

"always so tight, my love, holyfuck," you hear seonghwa say behind you, 

his hands digging into your hips as he pounds into you from behind. you moan out at his words, making sure to look yeosang in the eyes as you circle your tongue around his tip.

"jesus christ," yeosang mumbles, your eye contact and tongue and the way your body is jutting forward from seonghwa fucking into you some of the hottest shit he's ever seen. 

you prove him wrong all but five seconds later, taking his cock fully in your mouth as you bob your head up and down with vigor.

"you love this don't you baby," seonghwa grunts out behind you, "having me fuck you while you suck him off." 

if you didn't have a mouth full of cock, you'd be your obedient, truthful self and moan out a mantra of yes, yes, yes.

but you're so intent on sucking yeosang, thinking back to all the times you thought about this very moment. 

being taken from behind by one while you sucked off the other. hearing their groans and grunts bounce off one another as they use your body for their own pleasure.

you know seonghwa's close by the way his grunts grow louder, hips becoming more sloppy in his movements and him asking you on more time if you like being their whore. 

when you push your hips back on him, disconnecting your mouth from yeosang to let your loud moan ring free, you feel him spill his release into you. it makes you feel warm and full, wondering if you're about to feel the same exact thing on your face and really be a mess tonight.

the second seonghwa pulls out of you, slapping your throbbing clit for good measure before he makes his way around to, yeosang pulls himself from your mouth and eagerly makes his way behind you.

"be gentle," seonghwa warns the boy, grabbing his arm and tightening his hold ever so slightly. "she's gonna be sensitive." 

yeosang only narrows his eyes at the boy challengingly, bending down and taking your pretty face in his veiny hand.

"do you want that, y/n?" he asks, letting his thumb drag over your bottom lip before sticking his finger in your mouth. "do you want me to be gentle?"

 seonghwa rolls his eyes at his friend's approach, shaking his head and resisting the urge to tell him to fuck off purely out of selfish intent.

you also shake your head no, telling him to fuck you as he pleased and yeosang does just that. 

he pushes you on your back and puts your legs up on his shoulders, spreading you like a feast and pounded his throbbing cock into you.

the both of them are different in length and girth but seem to fit you so well. you stretch perfectly, filled up so well by them and feeling every ridge and thrust with immense pleasure.

"holyshit this pussy," yeosang grunted, seonghwa smirking in satisfaction because after all, you were still his girlfriend and it sent a strange sense of pride through him. 

that's why he rests your head on his lap and fondles your chest, palming your nipples and watching as your face twisted into one of pleasure.

it only took five flicks of yeosang's fingers on your clit for you to completely fall apart, spreading your legs and yelping when one of the most intense orgasms destroys your body. 

you’re a shaky, moaning mess, yeosang's hips snapping rapidly into you as seonghwa bends down and silences your mouth with his.

the both of you took some time to catch your breath, yeosang pulling out of you with a curse and placing a kiss to your leg. 

you looked up at seonghwa who's hands were in your sweaty hair, roaming over your face to see if they had gotten too much. if their words and the way they lost control inside of you was suddenly taking an effect.

you only grabbed the back of his neck and tugged him down, your lips meeting with fervor as he smiles into the kiss. he slips his tongue in before pulling back, looking down at you lovingly as he fixes another sweaty strand of hair.

"you okay, baby?" he asks, "you did so fucking good for us."

you nod your head with a lazy smile, stretching out your legs tiredly. the both of you turn to yeosang who was still looking dazed and boneless on the couch.

you giggled into seonghwa's arm, feeling his lips press a kiss against your head. 

"he's not used to you," he hums lowly.

"well, he better," you say, yeosang snapping open one eye as a smirk crosses his lips.

saturday, october 2nd

the sexual part was easy. falling into the motions of all of your desired roles and positions that you liked. 

yeosang was amazing with his fingers, seonghwa was amazing with his tongue and either of them being inside you was guaranteed a good time.

but it was after the sex where you all felt... hesitant.

at first, it had been awkward. 

yeosang not knowing what to do when seonghwa did all his normal aftercare, cleaning up between your legs and brushing your hair and asking a million times if you were okay or needed anything; it had surprised him, honestly, the level of care he put into you afterward. 

but it also surprised him that he found himself waning to do that.

he wanted to stay after, have you in his arms or on his chest with seonghwa on the other side of you. he wanted to see you outside the bedroom, go on dates with you and chastely kiss you and act like a boyfriend the way seonghwa did.

it wasn't until you initiated the first conversation that really set everything in motion.

it started after nearly two hours of swapping positions, riding yeosang as seonghwa jerked himself off before he couldn't take it anymore and sat you on his face. 

they had gotten better at sharing, dirty looks and snide comments still made that were more often than not teasing.

after this particular time, however, you were exhausted. you were just so exhausted and wanted both of them by your side tonight. 

"can you stay," you softly asked yeosang. "i... want you both tonight."

the two boys looked at one another before shrugging because the rule had quickly become what y/n wants, y/n gets. 

you spent the night in between the both of them, your hand intertwined with seonghwa's while your head rested on yeosang's chest.

when the two boys woke before you the next morning, they had looked at each other before looking down at you and knew it felt right. 

not particularly between them, though they didn't mind it, but just the dynamic as a whole. both of them loving you and caring for you and only wanting what's best for you - and if that was both of them, then that's what it was.

because the further you got into your relationship, the more you saw just how much you needed both of them. 

you needed seonghwa for certain things and you needed yeosang for certain things. 

on nights you were feeling particularly vulnerable, you still wanted seonghwa. if a storm was hitting or you were coming down with a cold, you liked the familiar warmness of seonghwa.

but on an intellectual level, talking out your feelings and getting stuff out in the open, you and yeosang clicked. 

you had the same personality, liked the same things, would sometimes even finish the others sentences and be able to know exactly what the other person was thinking. 

you also found that innocent little ways of affection, you liked with yeosang. liked the way your hands fit together and the way his strong arms wrapped around your waist.

the other boys had noticed the change almost immediately, raising their brows at the way yeosang would cuddle you from behind on the couch while seonghwa just sat off to the side unbothered. 

they weren't deaf either, hearing the boys muffled moans mixed in with yours - so naturally, it had been san to discuss the elephant in the room.

"so like... are you three all a thing now? and if so, how do i get in on this?"

you, yeosang and seonghwa let out loud laughs, the latter boy flicking his forehead and smiling when san let out a loud cry. 

"ow! what was that for!"

"for being a perv," he sneered, pushing the boy off the couch so he can sit next to you and yeosang. you moved so your head rested on his lap, your feet on yeosang at he trailed his hand slowly up and down his leg.

eventually, everyone had gotten used to the new normal. had gotten used to seonghwa and yeosang caring for you in the same way, watching their eyes look at you with a matching twinge of love and lust in their eyes.

you and yeosang are now in his bed, giggling and teasing each other over a stupid tv show when you see seonghwa come in with a smile. he smirks when he sees yeosang's hands holding you hostage, your wrists above your head as your red in the face from laughing.

"don't fuck with our girl too much," seonghwa said with a smile, bending down to peck your cheek before snaking his way in bed.

you spent the rest of the night laughing with them, writhing under their hold as they tickle and nip at you. 

and when you guys go to bed a few hours later, your drowsy, warm body in the middle of both of them, the thunder rumbling outside is a pleasant reminder of the night this all started.

(part 2)

[prodbyteez]

kys. alethiology [f]

(n.) the study of truth

this was the last situation you’d be caught dead in. standing in the rain asking kang yeosang to give you a ride home from school because you missed the bus. you were soaked from the inside out, your sneakers squelching because of the water. you had to stay after school to meet with your teacher because of a project expecting that you’d be out of there half an hour ealier. but no, time failed you. and apparently so did public transportation.

it’s not that you hated yeosang. he was actually pretty cute to you. you like how soft his hair looked and how his fangs appeared every time he laughed or smiled. you liked how soft and low his voice was and how he was always looking out for his friends. most of the problems rested on the fact that yeosang didn’t like you. 

somehow, things never managed to work out for you for the sake of the boy. you’d bump into his arm while he was writing causing the pen to rake across the pages of his notebook, you’d try throwing paper balls into the trash but end up hitting him instead, when you laughed it was always so loud and sudden that you’d end up scaring him - it goes on. multiple times has he confessed to you that he thought you were a nuisance going as far as asking teachers to change seats because of you and moving to a different locker to be as far from you as possible. apologizing to him didn’t do much either. when you did he stared at you blankly and just left you standing there. 

hence the reason you didn’t think that you’d be knocking on the window of his car asking him for a ride. 

can you roll down your window please?

no, it’s raining. i don’t want my car getting wet

you answered so i know you can hear me, and right now that’s all i need

he really could’ve just driven away. but something about seeing the most annoying person on the planet standing in the rain begging for a ride home gave him some much needed leverage.

yeosang please, you were desperate, i know you hate me and i told you that i am genuinely sorry for all the things i’ve done at your inconvenience but you’re the only person left in this parking lot for who knows what reason. my house is 30 minutes away on the bus which is a one hour walk. please. i will literally never speak to you again for the rest of the year if you just take me home this once. please

he could see the desperation in your eyes. lucky for you the rain was masking your tears. he rolled down his window to get a good look at you. he could see goosebumps littering your arms as your hair stuck to your forehead. your teeth were chattering, eyes almost closed because of how harsh the rain was. you heard the click of his car and a sigh.

no

no?? after all of your begging and the fact that you were convinced that you were gonna get a cold, he said no? you mustered the fakest smile you could 

i probably deserved that. sorry for bothering you. get home safe

you walked away trying to wrap your arms around your body to maybe fool yourself into thinking you were warming up. 

you really can’t detect sarcasm can you?

you turn around to see yeosang pull up next to you in his car. 

sarcasm?

yeah, sarcasm. you annoy the life out of me but i’m not awful. get in the car

with shaky legs you climb into the passenger seat grateful that the heat was on full blast.

 you’re bad at telling when someone’s lying you know

i’m pretty gullible, you had every right to not let me in your car so i just thought you were serious

you hear him laugh and take the chance to look at his fangs.

so long as you don’t make me crash this car into a tree or something, then it’s fine

...thank you...

mhm

the car ride was mostly silent, only the sound of the traffic around you filling your ears.

yeosang?

mmm?

why were you still in the parking lot? school finished an hour ago

he tensed up at the question, hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter, adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he searches his mind for a response. 

i just fell asleep in my car. i was super tired today and i like the rain so i just fell asleep. 

oh, okay. hoping that you slept well then

you gave a half hearted smile.

i did

though you were clumsy, yeosang never actually hated you. you were so outgoing and extroverted and even though you messed up at the cost of his misfortune, he knew you never meant any harm and you were always quick to apologize. yes you were a little annoying, but he wanted to take care of you the same way he did his friends, but being too shy to speak up about it, he saw every effort you made to try and be better. you started walking on the far side of the classroom so as not to bump into any arms, you stood up to throw garbage in the trash, and you started to quiet your laughs and cover your mouth. (he did miss your loud laugh though). so he was really thankful when he found out that you were bad at spotting lies, because if you knew that he was parked out there waiting for you so you wouldn’t have to go home in the rain...

[immortal-enemies]

Hold on to The Memories; They Will Hold on to You

He scheduled the appointment on impulse.

Well, perhaps that wasn't true.

He just couldn't get the image out of his head lately- or for a few months, whatever. He was only going to pick it up. He wouldn't be gone long, so what was the big deal, right?

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

When Kit was in second grade, he made a mug out of clay.

It was a dumb art assignment.

At least, looking back that's what he told himself it was.

Back then, he was ecstatic to have the chance to play with clay, and to make something? By himself? He was grinning for the whole month.

He had never been so gentle and careful and excited to do a project, so he wanted to make it the best damn– he learned that word from his Dad shouting it at one of his meetings and had started using it in an attempt to impress him– mug the teacher ever laid eyes on.

Said teacher even complimented it. So, when Kit walked off the bus with the mug clutched in his hands– he loved it too much to keep it in the darkness of his backpack the whole way home– he was feeling on top of the world.

It was about a thirty-minute walk home from the bus stop, one that involved Kit rushing down alleys and hiding in bushes to ensure he wasn't being followed.

When he got to the alleyways he’d paused for a moment and, with the memory of falling and cutting his knee several times while running through them, carefully placed the ceramic upon the coat he brought for this reason specifically (it was rarely cold enough to need a coat in LA), and watched his feet intensely as he skipped past the broken and intact bottles of liquor. Only when he was back on the sidewalk did he take it out and continue admiring it.

It was nice, back then, to be proud of something.

The walk took longer than normal because of his temporary caution, so when he arrived at his- seemingly abandoned- house, he felt guilty.

Not because he was late, per se, but because now Dad had to wait even longer to see the mug his son had made.

He was gonna love it, of that much little Kit was certain.

Kit always scrambled through a window to get inside, at his Dad’s request, but like the rest of his trip home, Kit was overly cautious. Gently placing the mug on the ground, swinging his leg over the broken windowsill and gasping quietly as he fell through and rolled carefully and fluidly, almost naturally.

He found himself placing his hands over his mouth and giggling like crazy at the thought of his father’s face as he presented the treasure he went through so much to protect.

He stood up awkwardly and clumsily picked up his cup and turned and ran to the kitchen, where he knew his father would be writing with concentration.

He always was.

But when Kit arrived at the island in the center of their rickety kitchen and squeaky floorboards, his father was nowhere to be found. Kit immediately drew his attention to the counter.

He tried to not feel too disappointed as he reached up and grabbed the piece of paper that was sitting atop the splintering wood.

Once he had gotten an awful splinter that he didn’t tell anyone about until it was almost too late.

He shuddered at the intrusive memory.

He glanced over the note to find a number: 57.

He knew what 57 meant. That his father had packed his bag and left for a while on business.

Kit blinked and looked down at the mug that he was so excited to show the person that wasn’t here.

Then he was blinking back tears.

Shame washed over him. Why was he crying? Dad would be very upset to see him crying, not because he was sad, but because crying normally meant you couldn’t handle something.

Not being able to handle things made you weak.

And Dad didn’t want him if he was weak.

So he scrubbed his dirty hand across his face and took a shuddering breath, trying to stop his lip from trembling.

He knew he was overreacting.

That didn’t mean he had to acknowledge it.

Kit straightened his back and calmly went to the front hall, opened the front closet, picked up a few bulky coats, and put his backpack under them burying it.

It was just going through the motions at this point.

He glanced at the mug in his hand, one corner of his mouth tugging downwards.

Kit looked back up, from the hall to the living room, which was mostly empty, save for a couch and a mostly bare entertainment center.

Where would he put the mug until Dad came back?

Kit hummed thoughtfully. Then his eyes lit up as he remembered his hiding spot, where he would put the things he wanted to keep safe.

He had come up with the idea during one of his dad’s meetings when he had finally become too bored to stay sane, and had been proud of himself when he stepped back from the blanket corners he smashed in between four boxes.

He wandered to the stairs that lead to the basement he had spent so much of his time in.

As he made his way downstairs, he started humming a tune he remembered forever, it sounded vaguely like a lullaby; if you added the words.

Though he didn’t know the words, he wished he did.

Maybe he would sing it at his talent show. When he had the lyrics of course.

He was lost in thought and slightly miscalculated his next step, and as a result, tripped and felt the mug fly out of his hand as he attempted to right himself.

Maybe he would have if the sound of the ceramic breaking didn’t fill him with so much horror he recoiled in shock and felt his heart stop beating.

He felt his head crash into the step below the next one, and two more tumbles later, he sprawled out on the floor.

He stared at the ceiling blankly, his adrenaline not allowing him to yet feel the amount of pain he was truly in.

The mug.

He gasped and straightened up in a flash, his head spinning from the unexpected force. He blindly reached out for something that vaguely resembled broken or, hopefully intact, ceramic.

Instead, he got a big cut across his palm.

The pain was starting to settle in, but all he could think about was his poor mug.

“Glue,” he whispered frantically, his voice cracking slightly from the oncoming tears as he scrambled to find the pieces, “I need glue.”

But he knew he didn’t know where the glue was, and he wasn’t going to be able to find it.

Then his hand was stinging.

Then he felt nothing but pain.

He finally started crying, unable to hold the tears back any longer.

The crying turned into sobbing, as he clutched his hand to his chest and gasped in pain, finding he wasn’t able to stop.

He closed his eyes as his wave of tears continued, and it was like a hallucination when he could hear his dad say, in his condescending way:

“It’s okay, it’s not like it mattered anyway.”

He opened his eyes through a wave of tears to find the mug on the floor, not only broken, but the plain grey now stained red with his blood.

A new flood of tears and more sobbing ensued.

It wasn’t even painted yet.

He had wanted them to paint it together.

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

Kit walked out of the pottery studio.

The mug was now in his bag because looking at it and holding it made him feel sick.

Kit hated the mug. He hated it with a burning passion.

He wanted it gone.

Kit looked up solemnly at the cloudy sky, thinking of Jem. He would never call him “dad,” because only one person in his life was ever going to be his dad. It didn’t feel right to call someone who cared about him- or so he claimed- the word he called someone who didn’t care about him for shit.

The mug was a heavyweight for him.

But he had to do this.

He couldn’t get rid of it.

It wasn’t even painted yet.

He wanted them to paint it together.