#i spent too much time perfecting the anatomy for it to look traced

[breeberrypies]

that’s the only scene that happens in s8

[akanothere]

i forgot to ask, but How'd you study anatomy and any recommendations?

Dang good question… ngl I’m so bad at anatomy I drew chibis and nearly never drew full body three years ago so I don’t think I’m experienced enough to give good tips🥲… but I’ll say when I spent too much time on perfecting one small area, the anatomy would always end up LOOKING BAD AND WEIRD. Maybe generally start remembering the muscles shapes first eg. Anatomy books for artists (not those in manga style but like realistic human body)

Also definitely use reference pics! Not poses from other artists but from movies/ photographs. Try not to trace on it but free-hand “copy” it… gradually you will remember the anatomy in different angles enough to actually draw whatever poses you have in mind. (Sometimes when I can’t figure out what poses to use, I look for ref photos on Pinterest🥹 Saves time and my brain juice)

Hope that helps🥹💦💕!

[whatchamarkallit]

What got you started to pursue drawing? What methods did you use to learn?

I never really stopped drawing from when I could first hold crayons, but I only really started to try "a style" when I was in the 5th grade. it was a BAD style mind you but it was what I drew for my friends when we would talk about anime during class asdfghj

I guess from there I started getting "serious" about art when I got my first laptop? I would make stuff in MSpaint and tbh I did a lot of stuff using bases and tracing. It was not great but I was like 12/13 so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

When I stopped using bases I did NOT have a very good handle on anatomy so what i made was uuuuhhhhhh

like this. Still using MSpaint and a mouse. tbh I'm really impressed with what I managed to do during that phase in art because i managed some semi-impressive things? like managing this:

when you don't have layers is impressive to me. In like 2013 i was given my first art tablet (a hand me down that wound up shorting my laptop and Murdering its usb outlets because it was just that old and had fucked up wiring) and started using firealpaca.

One thing i really regret as an adult is not watching more art tutorials as a kid? And the ones I watched were by people who uuuu *probably shouldn't have been teaching others yet* but like it was also the early 2010's and there were not nearly as many free art resources as there are today! Like, these were the days when it was a heinous offense to "steal someone's technique" when people didn't share how they drew and never gave advice on how to accomplish or learn art things. If you weren't buying art books or classes, you were pretty out of luck.

but i sort of just brute forced it and refused to do my school work, so i spent all of my time either playing TF2 or drawing!

I have no idea why i was obsessed with using pixel line art with airbrushed colors but that sure was my art style at like. 16.

I never learned anatomy or did any studies and you could REALLY TELL like. good god the torsos were miles long and the heads were way too big. I got bullied a lot for my art and it sucked but also god i can see why sdfghj

THANKFULLY my art got better with practice, but honestly? If I had done more actual studies and tried to learn instead of just doing the same stuff over and over. In the end I only actually got better at art when I made friends with other artists who I wanted to impress. Like, I grew as an artist because I wanted to be able to make art for them that would make them go "Oh wow!"

Though other sources of inspiration also helped! Dream Daddy was really inspiring to me when it came out because the art style scratched my brain in suuuuuch a good way! Like my art went from the image on the left to the one on the right over about a month or so because I just focused on it so much

ofc it's not perfect or anything but it was so cool that i could draw something "that good" at the time asdfghj

At this point I actually started watching art tutorials and actually doing studies, as well as just being determined to get very good at drawing hands because a douchenozzle of a guy at college looked in my sketchbook and said i drew them badly. That's why they're one of the easiest things for me to draw now!

So i reckon the TLDR on my methods are

Boar headed determination

Desire to impress artists who were better than me

Seeing something cool and going "Oh i wanna try that"

Spite of wanting to make it so Teddy (fuck you theodore) could never say shit about how I drew hands ever again

Honestly the really harsh criticism/bullying I got from my peers probably helped me grow as an artist, and it made me really good at listening to real critiques, but I will never do that to someone else because it's just so yucky asdfghjk

[corpsentry]

january: an art retrospective

i did some stuff last month (but it’s a lot of stuff and there’s a photodump + some Serious Fucking Reflection, so it’s all below the cut)

so ok, let’s start with this. here are some heads. each head has a red arrow. that red arrow is what i call the red line of the devil. it’s the slope of the face from the side of the eye to the cheekbone and then down towards the chin. up until like 2 weeks ago, i couldn’t draw it. i couldn’t fucking draw it. i would edit over that part of the face over and over again until i was frustrated and tired and i had a raging homosexual headache and it still never looked right. notice that each head is different. notice that each head looks wrong.

at the start of 2021 i finally admitted to myself, as per the image above, that i was deeply, deeply unhappy with my art. what was the problem? i dunno. but i decided i was going to fix it and i was going to do so via another one scribble a day event wherein for every day of january i would find a photo of a human head, and i would draw it.

january 1st, 2021. i was embarrassed to tweet this even on my private account where like 5 friends and a rock would see it. in retrospect, you can also see all of my bad habits emerging like dicks from a hole in the ground. it’s disproportionate. the brows look flat. the eyes are slanting upwards. the entire drawing looks flat, like this isn’t a 3d person but a caricature of one.

january 2nd, 3rd, 4th:

on the 2nd i decided to start a separate thread for doodles and applied learning. here’s the first set of tests

the rest of the week is kind of uneventful so we’re going to skip those. fast forward to january 11th

this one is especially bad. i am acutely aware, suddenly, that i am not changing anything at all. i’m stressed and miserable about it because i’m still trying to see people as people and trying to draw people that look attractive and proportionate and hot. my friend, leny, reminds me that i need to think about faces in terms of planes. i have a moment. my other friend masha sends me some links to anatomy tutorials. i have another moment.

january 11th. applied sketch

january 13th is when i start the troubleshooting process. the link above drives me mad because i’m pretty happy with the face but then i realize that there’s something very fucking wrong with the shape of the head LOL and then i realize that i’ve never had any idea what the proportion of the face to the rest of the skull is so i grit my teeth and i open a new canvas and i

bald studies. it seemed like the right thing to do. can’t draw heads? ok draw some heads. look at some photographs. i traced each photo but tried to stick to straight lines so that i could replicate the shapes more easily. i broke each face down into shapes. i thought about airplanes

i got really excited. i started doing studies, then applied studies, then stylized studies.

sketches. i’m not sure what’s going on (as always) and it’s very rough, but they look different from the sketches i did on january 2nd. that’s a start

january 16th’s daily study. looks more like a person now. juuuuuust a bit

more applied studies

on the 18th i take a break and go stare at some lips because i don’t understand how the fuck they work. again, i focus on shapes, on volume, on the fact that these things exist in 3d. holy fuck lips exist in 3d. holy fuck we are real

january 19th. i’m working on it.

january 22nd. some sketches + a daily study. it has finally occurred to me that heads can tilt up and down and that things look different accordingly. yes i was not aware of this before. yes i have been drawing for over a decade.

january 23rd. by this point after doing my daily sketch i almost always go back and do an applied study which is basically to say i drew a lot of fucking links. this one looks kind of okay. i’m kind of proud

january 25th. links. trying to make sense of everything i’ve learned

26th, 27th, 28th. daily studies

january 1st. january 31st

The End Of The Photo Dump (dab)

ok NOW i get to talk about what i discovered while studying the shit out of human beings

FIRST OF ALL, there is something precious and magical about drawing shit without the explicit knowledge that you’re going to tweet that shit out to 45 people later. it takes the burden of perception off your shoulders and that does something to you, or at least that’s my theory. i told myself i wouldn’t post any of this stuff until the end of the month (if i wanted to post it at all) and kept everything off my public social media accounts and that meant i could draw ugly as hell without worrying about who would point and laugh, which i absolutely fucking did. a lot of these are fucking trainwrecks. most of these are fucking trainwrecks. why do they look like that?? why??? this doesn’t look like the work of someone who’s allegedly been drawing since they were in kindergarten, does it?????

here’s why: because that person took a huge motherfucking swing at everything they’d ever known about art and spent a month building something new in its place. the abstract explanation is that i grew up on shoujo and weird old anime and my understanding of anatomy was unironically kamichama karin and while i love kamichama karin, when kamichama karin is your rule even if you try to break it, you’re going to end up going nowhere. “you have to know the rules to break them”, yeah? well i didn’t know shit. the abstract explanation is i’ve been miserable about my art for a few years now because i saw other people doing things effortlessly which i couldn’t and instead of going back to the basics, i tried to do what they did (not plagiarism, mind you, i mean i literally tried to copy the red line of the devil i mentioned above because i couldn’t even make that happen) and then i fucking failed.

the simple explanation is this. i had to unlearn everything, and relearn it again (like some kind of new renaissance clown, what the fuck is this?)

take this for example. all my life i’ve drawn faces in the order: eyes, nose, mouth, face shape, head. this works for some people, im aware, but it was something central to how i had always drawn, so i decentralized it. i said fuck you to the old me and changed the order up. now i start with the nose, then the eyes, mouth, the chin line, and the sides of the face. now i force myself to think about the human head as a series of parts interacting with each other instead of a bunch of disparate features which i want to look pretty.

or let’s use this zelda from last year. something about this looked wrong last october, the way something about all of my drawings looked wrong, but i couldn’t pinpoint it for hell the way i couldn’t articulate Any of my feelings about the visual arts. now, looking back, here’s what i see. that nose is sticking out far too much given how she’s not really facing very far away from the camera. that ear at the back shouldn’t be there. her forehead is too big. she doesn’t have a forehead. what the fuck is up with the shape of her head?

so apparently reject modernity embrace tradition has its roots in alt-right terminology and i’m not very horny for the alt-right (you understand), but the spirit survives here. you know sometimes you have to admit that you have no idea what the fuck you’re doing and draw people for 31 days. i’ve spent my whole life drawing stylized people and while again there are artists who have no issue with this, i veered off the track of the Good and the Holy and couldn’t get back on. i had no point of reference because i’d never thought about what an actual human being looks like, so i had no way to fix what i knew in my gut looked wrong but wouldn’t come out better.

this was hard. this was like oikawa tooru swallowing his worthless pride and admitting that ushijima wakatoshi had gotten the best of him for the last time in his high school career, but in haikyuu!! by furudate haruichi oikawa tooru fucks off to argentina and then joins the argentinean national team, and you know what, i think i’ve made it to argentina (not the team just the country). as per the golden rule of dont fucking move until you’re at least two thirds of the way through the month, i only started trying to draw Shit shit on like the 22nd or something, but i was happy with that i created. i am happy with what i’ve done. i’ve posted like 2 things this month that involve people with what i now call ~applied Knowledge~~ and they’re, like, not perfect obviously (perfection is an unattainable ideal), but i’m fucking proud of them. i didn’t spend 5 hours hunched over my laptop adjusting the red line of the devil because it’s not a devil’s line anymore. because i finally sorta get how people work. because i sat down and i said ‘we are not going to fuck with this misery shit anymore’ and then i did that. it’s just a line now.

here are 2 collages tracking my painstakingly carved out progress from january 2nd to february 2nd because i’m a slut for collages

and here’s what i’ve done to my art! the same person drew these but also Not Really! you know! for the first time in a year i don’t immediately hate what i’ve drawn. you know what guys? art is fucking fun. zelda’s forehead doesn’t scare me anymore because i know how foreheads fucking work now, and i don’t know everything, and i’m going to keep troubleshooting stuff as i go (i want to draw a skeleton. like a. i want to draw a goddamn skeleton guys) but i’m honestly and genuinely proud of what i’ve done in the span of a month, and i’m also in disbelief. i started this month-long challenge out as a last ditch effort to make peace with my art because i’ve been tired for a long time and i was ready to kick the bucket on drawing people altogether. i didn’t think anything would happen. nothing’s happened for years. i’ve been miserable for years.

this was the caption for january 1st, 2021. i was super, super fucking embarrassed and it looks like super fucking shit, but you know what, i think i did in fact triumph over the bullshit. surprisingly enough, when you put in consistent effort into something, You Will See Results. didn’t see that coming, did you? i know i didn’t.

this isn’t a success story. it’s a happiness story. i never gave a shit damn about the institute of art or whatever, i was just mad at myself because what i saw in my head didn’t match up with what was on the canvas. and now it’s getting better. now i’m calibrating the compass. now drawing not just backgrounds but also people is exciting to me, and i can stick my links in your face and tell you ‘they hot’. i’m going to keep doing that. i’m going to keep going until i drop off the side of the earth and then spiral towards mars like some kind of fairy, and then i’m going to create something beautiful.

thanks for reading. here’s a pr department link for sticking around until the end

[withcolebrock]

So Happily

Summary: Colby is in love with Y/N but she’s getting married

Warnings: swearing, angst-ish, and implied smut

Word Count: 4,504

Author’s Note: HII I love this one shot so much. ummmm thank you Mari for helping me with it! I really appreciate it.! This fic is inspired by grey’s anatomy and my second favorite couple from the show loll. Also the title is based on the song Happily by One Direction, so you can listen to that while reading if you want hehe. Anyway, it’s very back and forth, so it may be hard to read to some but I hope you guys enjoy it! Italics are flashbacks! This is my gif!

She stared towards his hand, she watched as he ran his finger along her plam. It felt calming. She pulled the blanket closer to her chin. Colby looked over her features, noticing the strong knit in her eyebrows. “What’s on your mind?” he spoke softly, his voice rasped. She lifted her gaze to look towards him. She looked over his hair that was messily laying over his forehead, alongside his pinked cheeks. His eyes looked brighter. Her lips turned upward slightly.

“Just about how this was supposed to be a one time thing,” she said simply. He pulled his head back slightly as he furrowed his eyebrows.

“Are you regretting that it wasn’t?” he asked quickly. She shook her head while widening her eyes. He let out a sigh of relief. “But why are you thinking about that then?” he laughed nervously, she laughed as well.

“I don’t know,” she giggled, “I guess I’m just wondering how our relationship would be like,” she looked back towards her hand, seeing his hand start to trace again. “Like if things would go back to normal,” he stared towards her, waiting for her to continue. She took in a hesitant breath, “I mean like obviously things aren’t going to be like before.”

“Well, yeah, I’ve seen you naked at least fifteen times,” he joked. She pushed him lightly as she gasped. He chuckled while he slowly leaned his body towards her again. She was doing the same.

“You know what I mean,” she whispered, he nodded his head as he ran his fingers through his hair. She pushed her lips into a pout as she shut her eyes briefly. “Like once all this stops, are we still going to be friends?” she points her finger to him and back to herself several times. He licked his lips nervously.

“Yeah, of course, why wouldn’t we be?”

~~~

The room was crowded and filled with laughter and loud music. She kept her gaze on her own reflection, admiring the makeup job her friend Devyn had done. It was simply yet she never felt more beautiful. Her eyes were soft and covered in light golden brown colors with a glitter shadow. Her eyeliner was not dramatic but long and beautiful, her eyelashes were long. Her lips were colored with a dark maroon color, a color she never used to wear. Her hair that took too long to style, looked perfect. She loved every little piece of it.

Her mother leaned over and rested her hands onto Y/N’s shoulders, pulling her from her transe. She shook her head slightly as she met her mother’s eye through the mirror. “How are you feeling, Honey?” she whispered, a soft smile to her lips. Y/N nodded her head slightly as she forced a tight lip smile.

“I’m good,” she nodded. Her voice was brittle as she spoke, her mind was going a mile a minute. As the time got closer the more the knot in her throat got bigger. Her gaze briefly shifted towards the picture sitting beside her. She saw the wide smile of her face and his face, she smiled softly as she looked back into the mirror.

Her mother squinted her eyes slightly, not believing her. Y/N head dropped slightly, while clenching her jaw. “I’m scared,” she let out. She didn’t expect the words to fall from her lips, or the sudden rush of tears to her eyes. She began to blink rapidly, trying to stop them. Her mom stood up and looked around the room and began to ask everyone to clear to the next room. No one questioned as they all quickly dispersed to the room next door.

Her mother sat down beside her, “What’s going through your mind, Honey?” Y/N didn’t answer right away. She didn’t know how to put her thoughts into words, it felt impossible. Her lip quivered as she lifted her head to meet her mother’s eye.

“What if-” she stopped and took in a shaken breath, “What if this is all wrong?” she asked. Her mother furrowed her eyebrows as she tried to comprehend what she had said. “What if this isn’t right? I mean like what if it’s all too fast or something-”

“Okay, slow down and take a breath,” her mother interrupted as she brushed a stray strand of hair away from Y/N’s face. She listened and took in a long breath while maintaining eye contact. Her mother smiled a reassuring smile, “This is normal, everyone has doubts on their wedding day.” Y/N nodded slightly as she pushed the thoughts to the back of her head.

“But I don-” Loud knocks against the dressing room door interrupt her.

“Come in,” her mother said with a wide smile. Colby peaked his head into the door while taking small steps into the room. He had a hesitant smile to his face as he continued walking into the room.

“Is this a bad time or-” he trailed off as he glanced back towards the door behind him. Y/N didn’t say anything as she looked down to her lap. She began to carefully wipe the tear that was about to fall.

“Oh Colby hi!” her mother cheered as she stood up and excitedly walked towards him. He smiled warmly towards her but his gaze was towards Y/N. He noticed the way she was dabbing at her eyes, his eyebrows knitted together as he clenched his jaw. He hugged her mother, “Well, I have to call her father, but I will be back,” she cheered as she rushed towards the door. Raising her eyebrows, she forced a wide smile and left the room.

Y/N stood up from her seat, lifting the dress slightly, avoiding his gaze. His eyes were admiring her frame in the dress. Everything about her was incredibly perfect. At first he didn’t know what to say, he was at a loss for words as he stood there looking over the woman he loved.

~~~

She bit her lip nervously as she shut the door behind her, she locked the door quickly as she turned around. Her hand was still resting on the door handle while she looked towards Colby. He was sitting leaning back onto his hands, he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth as he scanned her body.

She pulled her tank top over her head slowly, throwing it somewhere in the room without a second look. Looking deeply into his eyes, she climbed onto his lap, straddling him. She rested her hands onto his cheek as she spent a few seconds looking over his features. She grazed her finger over his bottom lip, his lips slowly began to curl upward as he admired her coy smile. Her gaze moved upwards towards his eyes, meeting them briefly as she moved her hand along his cheek.

She slowly leaned towards him, kissing him softly. Her hands slid from his cheek to the back of his neck. She runs her fingers through the ends of his hair. His body straightens, while he deepens the kiss.

He rested his hands onto her lower back, his rings were cold as they touched her skin. She sucked in a breath. He let out a breathy laugh as he pulled away from her lips to lift his shirt from his head. Her finger ran along his skin as she let out, “This is the last time.” Leaning down, she began to kiss his neck.

He smirked as he rolled his eyes, “You said that last time,” he whispered as she pulled herself away from him. Meeting his light blue eyes, she smiled widely. He raised his eyebrows as he lowered his hands from her waist to her thighs gently. He roughly threw her body down onto the bed as he climbed on top of her. He rested his hand beside her head as he hovered over her. Her eyes widened as she giggled.

“I mean it this time,” she said while he began to press wet kisses along her body. She shifted her gaze towards the ceiling as she pressed her lips together. He hummed, creating a small vibration onto her skin. She took in a breath at the feeling. He pressed his lips onto her stomach as he began to unbutton her jeans with one hand. He looked back up to her, smirking to himself as he in one swift movement pulled her jeans from her body.

“We’ll see,” he whispered before pressing his lips against hers hungerily. He pinned her arm down as he slowly slid his hand up her forearm, interlocking their fingers.

~~~

She looked into his deep blue eyes as she walked cautiously towards him, “You look,” he trailed off as he continued to admire the dress on her body. His eyes returned to meet hers, “Wow,” he mumbled, his cheeks began to flush red. He ran his hand across his lips looking away from her.

“Thank you,” she whispered as she looked over his body. He was wearing an all black suit that fits him perfectly. His hair was styled in his usual style, light blue strands of hair made her smile. She told him that’ll be a perfect color for him, months ago. He finally did it. His blue eyes became brighter with the freshly dyed hair color. “You look great,” she mumbled, feeling heat rise in her cheeks. He smiled shyly as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“Uh- thank you,” he cleared his throat, he nervously shoved his hands into his pockets. His heart was racing as he tried to find the perfect words, “How are you feeling?” he asked, chewing at his bottom lip. Her body straightened as she glanced towards the picture frame beside her. In the picture she looked happy. She interlocked her hands together as she clenched her jaw, she swung her hands forward and then back to herself, pressing her lips together.

“I’m nervous,” she laughed covering the shakeiness in her voice. His eyes widened as he took a step closer to her, he pursed his lips forward as he looked her body up and down. “It’s a big day.” She watched as he continued to slowly move closer to her.

“Yeah,” he let out a dry laugh, “Big day.” He slowly crossed his arms over his chest as he stood still staring into her eyes. His body tensed as her lips curled upward into a smile. It was only a few brief seconds of silence between them, yet it felt like it lasted hours. They stared into each other’s eyes, each of their hearts beating rapidly. It was familiar and comfortable.

He broke eye contact with her, lowering his gaze towards her maroon lips. “Is that new lipstick? I’ve never seen that color before,” he said, bringing his gaze back towards her eyes. She nodded her head.

“Yeah, it’s Devyn’s.” He smiled as he nervously ran his fingers through his hair.

“It looks good,” he smiled, she looked away from him shyly.

~~~

“Is that a new dress?” he whispered, his lips were close to her ear. His breath sent chills down her spine. Her lips curled upwards as she heard his voice. She bit her bottom lip as nodded her head slowly. He hummed. Colby’s lips grazed the skin under her ear while whispering, “Wow, you look-” he trailed off as she slowly stood up from the couch. He watched her movements intently. She leaned her body forward, resting her hand onto the back of the couch. Leaning her face closer to his, he stared at her expectantly.

“Come with me,” she whispered as she held out her hand, he gladly took a hold of her hand. They pushed through the groups of people surrounding them at the party. It seemed as though no one was paying attention to them. The walk up the stairs was quick since no one hangs around there. As soon as they reached the top stair, she turned around to face him. He smirked as he leaned forward pressing his lips against hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, as she jumped into his arms.

He quickly took a hold of her thighs as he walked towards his room. Without parting their lips he pushes open his bedroom door and shuts it behind him quickly. He pushes her body against the door as he locks it. A few minutes go by before he decides to take them both to his bed. He hesitantly laid her body down onto the bed. He stands over her pulling his shirt over his head.  He climbs over her, kissing her.

“This is the last time,” she mumbled against his lips. He just hummed as he continued to kiss her, knowing that this wouldn’t have been the last time they would’ve gotten together.

~~~

“Thank you, I’ve never worn this color before,” she felt herself relax as the words left her lips. He chuckled as he felt himself relax a bit. “I hope Ryan likes it,” she said while moving a small piece of her hair away from her face. His smile faltered slightly as his name fell from her lips, he tried to hide it but she noticed. Yet she decided to pretend it didn’t happen.

“He will most definitely like it. How could he not?” he reassured confidently. He put his hands in his pockets, he rocked his body forward and backwards while he pulled his lips in between his teeth. He shrugged his shoulders slightly as he avoided her eye. She smiled to herself. He cleared his throat as he cautiously walked towards her, “You look beautiful,” he whispered. She looked up towards him, feeling her cheeks flush.

His phone buzzing in his pocket forced him to take a few steps back away from her. He cleared his throat as he quickly read the text from Sam. “I guess, seats are filling quickly,” he said shakenly, “I’ll see you out there,” he sighed. He looked back into her eyes, clenching his jaw. “It’s going to be okay.” she nodded her head slightly as she watched him start to walk away from her. He dropped his head while he walked.

“Colby,” she called out. He turned around facing her, he lifted his head. “Thank you for coming even after-”

“Of course I was going to come, you’re my best friend,” he forced a tight lip smile as he left the room. She sat down onto the chair again, she looked towards the picture again.

Soon after Colby left, her mother and her bridesmaids quickly walked back into the room again. They all cheerfully greeted her, she smiled towards them respectfully. Y/N’s mother leaned down beside her, resting her hand onto her shoulder. “Are you ready, my dear?” she asked, a hopeful glint in her eyes. Y/N lifted her head slightly and looked into her mother’s eye. At first she didn’t know how to answer. It was a simple yes or no question, yet her mind was juggling so many different possible ways to answer it.

“Yes,” she let out, hoping it sounded convincing.

~~~

She wrote his name perfectly, in neat cursive writing. She smiled towards the name as she handed over to Ryan beside her. His fingertips purposely grazed her hand as he took a hold of the invitation. She didn’t notice anything. He flipped the invitation over and read the name over. He rolled his eyes as he flipped it over and showed her, “Why is there one for Colby?” he asked.

She looked towards him, confusion written all over her features. She shrugged her shoulders, “He’s one of my best friends, of course he’s coming,” she said simply. She looked down to the next name on the list and began to write down their name. He shook his head while huffing.

“I don’t want him there,” he dropped the invitation on the table while he shifted his gaze away from her. He clenched his jaw as he thought about ripping up the invitation.

“What? Why?” she felt offended. Ryan knew that he was one of her best friends, since high school.

“I don’t mind you guys being friends,” he started, “But he’s your ex and ex’s shouldn’t be at weddings,”

“He’s not my ex,” she shot back.

“You guys have had sex, he’s bacically an ex,” she didn’t know how to respond to that, she sat silently trying to find words. She slides the other invitation towards him. “I don’t want a guy who’s seen you naked at my wedding,” he continued to explain.

She agreed, she wouldn’t want any other girl there. But this was Colby. Colby was different. He’s helped her through everything. Every small rough patch in her life, Colby was there. Of course this past year, something was off between them but she still needed him to be at her wedding. “I understand that but it would be weird if he wasn’t there.”

“It would be weird to me if he was there.” he shot back while he enclosed an invitation in an envelope.

“He’s coming, end of,”

~~~

Everyone in the room was lining up to the door in the order that they were supposed to be walking out. The room was far from quiet as the bridesmaids were talking to the groomsmen next to them. She was ignoring everything around her as she fought off the urge to cry. Y/N stared towards the picture, she looked at how happy she was but all that disappeared two months ago. “Y/N?” her father said beside her.

She lifted her head to look towards her father. She hummed in response. “Are you okay?” her mother asked, noticing something was off. Y/N nodded her head, forcing a wide smile. She didn’t say anything as she slowly stood up from the chair. She lifted her dress as she took a small step forward. “Okay, well, I’ll see you out there,” she winked. She quickly left the room.

Her father held out his arm towards her and she gladly intertwined her arm with his. “You’re going to be fine,” he muttered as they walked towards the end of the long line of groomsmen and bridesmaids. She didn’t say anything, she just took in a long shaky breath.

She bit her bottom lip as the door opened, with the wedding planner standing by the doorway. She motioned for the pairs to start walking out of the dressing room. She felt dizzy as she took more steps forward out of the room. The heels on her feet made the feeling worse. She took in another long breath as her father and herself met the doorway. She stopped suddenly.

“What are you doing?” the wedding planner asked harshly. Y/N looked towards her and noticed the panic expression on her features. She shifted her gaze towards her father. She saw the small knitt in his eyebrows and the small pout on his lips.

“I can’t breathe, I need a second,” she let out. Her arm let go of her father’s as she rested it onto her chest. Her breathing was unsteady.

“It’s okay, you’re just nervous it’s okay,” her father tried to sooth her. He started to do a breathing pattern with her. He hoped it would help her. It was only a few seconds of breathing together before Y/N hesitantly agreed to continue her walk out of the room. “We’ll go slow,” he muttered as they reached the grand doors. The doors quickly swung open showing the full crowd.

Her eyes widened when she saw all the guests in the room. All of the people she cared about. Her gaze landed on the boy standing at the end of the isle. She smiled towards him when she saw him. The nerves in her system dispersed as she took slow steps towards the end of the aisle.

She turned her head to look at her friends sitting in the chairs. Her eyes met Colby’s, who was sitting on the aisle seat. Suddenly her stomach erupted in butterflies and her heart began to beat fast again. She kept her gaze on his longer than she would’ve liked to, but she forced herself to switch her gaze back towards the man at the end of the aisle.

~~~

She laughed along with a joke Reggie had said as she pulled her drink to her lips. Taking a long sip, she felt a small tap on her shoulder. She looked towards them and saw Colby standing beside her. “Can I talk to you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. She nodded as she rested her drink down onto the counter before she followed Colby towards Sam’s filming room. He opened the door and leaned his body into it. She walked into the room cautiously.

Walking into the room he swings his foot into the door, shutting it. He rubs his hands together nervously. He pulled his lips in between his teeth as he kept his gaze low. He didn’t know if he could say this while looking her in the eyes. She stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, while she loosely crossed her arms over her chest.

“What’s going on?” she asked barely above a whisper. He lifted his head slightly, looking towards her hesitantly. His heart was beating out of his chest. He bit his bottom lip nervously while he looked her in the eye. For a moment he wanted to run away. He wanted to pretend he didn’t feel the way he did and run. “Colby, just tell me.”

“Don’t get married,” he let out quickly. His eyebrows raised as he shocked himself with his words. She stared towards him, her eyebrows furrowed harshly. She stood still twisting the expensive engagement ring on her finger. How was she supposed to respond to that? “Please don’t get married,” he said again, this time more desperately.

“Why?” her voice broke as she spoke, she stared towards him desperate for some explanation. He took a cautious step closer to her, maintaining eye contact. She saw through the confident facade he had, she could see the panic he was feeling.

“I-I’m-ju-just please don’t get married.”

“Give me a reason,” she begged. He shook his head slightly, he wanted her to understand his words. He wanted her to know his intentions, he couldn’t say it out loud. He couldn’t. “Colby-”

“I’m in love with you!” he exclaimed, he looked behind him briefly feeling that his voice was too loud. Her breath caught in her throat, she stared in his eyes. She saw the desperation in them. She blinked her eyes rapidly, fighting off the urge to cry. “I’ve always been in love with you,” his voice dropped quieter as he walked towards her slowly. She took a step back.

“My wedding is in two months,” she whispered looking away from him.

“I know-I thought-”

“My wedding is in two months,” she was angry, she felt tears well up in her eyes quickly. Looking back towards him, she saw his eyes glistening.

“I love you, Y/N,”

“Why couldn’t you have said this a year ago?” she begged.

~~~

His body straightened as he rubbed his hands together. He watched her walk slowly pass. His lips curled upwards slightly as she neared the end of the aisle. She turned around towards her father, she leaned down and kissed his cheek. She slowly pulled away from him, shifting her gaze towards Colby sitting in the crowd. Her smile widened as she met his eye.

Colby’s heart skipped a beat as her smile caught him off guard. She was beautiful, she was everything he’s ever wanted. His heart began to pound harder against his chest, he could hear the beating. Y/N looked towards Ryan, her smile faltering slightly, no one noticed; not even herself. Except Colby did, he saw the way she looked at him and the way he looked at her. It wasn’t the same.

She looked at him only because she thought she had to. She loved him but the way she felt was different. But he looked at her as if she was the only person in the room. He looked at her as if she was everything to him. Colby knew about this because that’s how he felt. He only saw her, no matter what. She was the reason he smiled. She was the light of his life and that light was slowly dimming in front of him.

He watched as they reached for each other’s hands and he saw the minister open the book in his hands. The minister glanced down towards it before he looked back up towards the crowd. Colby wasn’t paying attention to the words spewing out of him, he only saw the woman he loved slowly turning to face the crowd. Her eyes quickly danced around the room but soon met Colby’s. His lips curled up subtly as he looked into her eyes. She did the same.

“Y/N’s and Ryan’s closest friends and family will you promise to love and support this marriage and all the days to come? If so, please respond with ‘we will’,” he explained. The room responded in unison, while Colby sat silently staring into her eyes. His smile slowly fell, realizing what was going on in front of him.

She turned her attention back towards Ryan and the minister; while Colby dropped his head. He ran his fingers through his hair. He took one long breath before he pulled on his suit jacket. He stood up and took two small steps into the aisle.

“I love you, Y/N,” he spoke directly to her. His gaze was only to her. She slowly turned around, her eyes widening. The entire room was now looking towards him. “I always have. I always will. I love everything about you,” he continued, the only sound he could hear was his own beating heart. Her mouth dropped slightly, she felt herself begin to tear up.

“I’ve loved you since the moment I met you, Y/N.” he paused, “ I want you to be with me. I love you and I think-I think you love me too,” he paused again as he watched her look around the room slightly panicked. Yet her gaze always seemed to look back towards Colby. “Do you?”

She took in a shaky breath as she looked deeply into Colby’s eyes. It was no competition. She dropped her head slightly as she turned her head towards Ryan. He smiled slightly as he met her gaze. “I’m so sorry,” she mumbled as she took a hold of her dress and lifted it slightly. She began to walk down the steps towards the man she truly loved in the aisle.

She felt tears fill her eyes as she started towards Colby. His eys widened as he walked towards her. She quickly wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered, “I’m in love with you too,”

[comrade-kenobi]

Take Care of Me- Din Djarin x Reader

Din Djarin x Reader (no pronouns are used but there is explicit references to AFAB anatomy, I also don’t specify if the reader has breasts or not.)

Here is some Mando smut that absolutely no one asked for...

TW: Mentions of injury, smut, use of the word c*nt

If there is ever anything else y’all want me to tag just let me know.

The latest bounty hunt had brought you and Mando to an icy wasteland of a planet. The two of you spent days traversing the frozen hellscape just to find some low level thug, barely worth anything. 

A chill had seeped into your bones, and nestled there like a child at their mother's breast. You’d caught a cold, it was unmistakable. The symptoms fully set in as Mando took off: a headache, light fever, and muscle aches.

You shivered in the seat next to Mando’s as he piloted The Razor Crest to your next destination, a pit stop for fuel just outside the middle of nowhere. 

“You cold?” Mando asked, turning when he heard your teeth chatter. 

“Just a little” you replied, brushing off his concern. It was just a cold, nothing to fuss about really. You’d be fine by the time you landed. 

“You’re sweating,” he stated plainly. If there was any concern on his face you wouldn’t know it. Any indication of how he felt was hidden behind beskar and a steely monotone.

“I’m fine,” you insisted. Mando stared at you from behind his helmet, making you squirm under his gaze. You watched as he slipped his glove off and pressed the back of his hand to your sweaty forehead. 

“You have a fever.” He declared, a crackle of something you couldn’t quite place in his voice. The way he gingerly brushed your hair away from your eyes made you think it was concern. 

You’d been traveling with Mando for quite some time now. Paths crossing on a shared bounty, and never uncrossing again. He was hard to read at times, but more and more often he’d let his guard down. Offering you a shining glimpse of the man underneath the beskar. This created a soft spot for him in your heart, you wondered if perhaps he felt the same. 

“Get some rest,” he demanded and you were far too tired to fight him, so you obliged. Slowly climbing down the ladder and making your way to your cot. When your head hit the pillow you were fast asleep. 

--- 

Din watched as you slept. It’d been about a day or so since he sent you to get some rest. You’d really only woken when he stopped in to bring you water, or check on your fever. Looking up at him with big, sleepy, eyes that melted his heart every time. 

He wasn’t quite sure when he’d become so fond of you. But if he really thought about it, he’d probably figure out it was when you first met. You had saved him from meeting the business end of a blaster rifle. You jumped down from a tree to bring down a guard that was protecting your bounty. What was even more impressive than that, was the fact that you’d then strangled the man with your thighs. All while introducing yourself to him; and insisting you wouldn't be giving up this bounty without a fight. 

He’d docked the ship so he could refuel, and decided that he’d pick up some supplies while he was there. You needed medicine, and better food than what the Crest had to offer. It took him a moment to pry himself away from you. He worried about leaving you alone on the ship in such a vulnerable state, and you looked so beautiful sleeping there on that shitty old cot. 

---

There was a stillness on The Crest when you’d awoken. No beeping, or engine’s roaring. Just silence. It left you a little uneasy, but you paid it no mind. You were more distracted by the fact that you’d actually woken up feeling good. Every time you’d gotten up before now you felt stiff and groggy; like someone had hit you with a big rock. 

Though this was the first time since Mando sent you to bed that you woke up without him there. Your heart clenched in your chest, spreading warmth through your veins as you thought about how caring he’d been. The hand he’d laid on your forehead was always gentle, almost ghost like. If he woke you to drink anything his touch was feather light and almost non-existent. Like if he pressed too hard he’d scare you away, or worse, break you. 

You were ripped from your thoughts by the sound of the door to the ship falling open. Followed by the clang of metal footsteps running up the ramp. Your heart hammered in your chest and you grabbed the blaster from underneath your bed, preparing to get up and rush into battle. 

Before you had a chance to get off the cot Mando came barreling into the small storage area you called a bunk. He was hunched over and his breathing was ragged. 

“Maker!” You exclaimed, rushing to the bounty hunters side. “Mando, are you okay?”

“Got into a fight,” he grunted as his leather clad hand gripped his stomach. 

“I can see that,” you replied, taking his arm in your hand and guiding him to sit on your cot. “Let me help you. 

You started to unclip his cuirass and his hand moved to your arm and squeezed. You stopped what you were doing and looked into his visor. Staring intently, where his eyes would be.

“I can’t help you if I can’t see what’s wrong.” You spoke softly, your eyes desperately searching his beskar covered face for something. Some kind of emotion, maybe a clue as to what he wanted you to do next. 

His grip on your arm loosened and then he let go altogether. Letting out a pained sigh as his arm fell into his lap with a weak thud. 

You got to work, immediately stripping any material that might have been in your way. When you were done, Mando’s arms and torso were completely bare. Revealing a canvas of long healed scars, and three fresh wounds. One on his shoulder, another on his side, and the last just below his belly button. 

“How did this happen?” You queried as you reached up to the shelf above you to grab the med kit. Mando’s eyes fell to your backside as you stretched. The oversized tunic you were wearing had lifted up and revealed you were wearing nothing underneath. 

“Ran into an assassin.” He explained, willing himself to look down and away from your ass. 

“Okay,” you started, settling yourself on the floor between Mando’s knees. Carefully taking a cloth and some disinfectant out of the case. “And then?” 

“She, thought-” he hissed at the burn of the alcohol touching his wounds. “She thought I was collecting a bounty on her.” 

You finished the rest of your work in relative silence. Only stopping to check on Mando if he winced in pain, or let out a particularly loud sigh. Your fingers danced along his abdomen after you carefully patched him up. Admiring not only your handiwork but the feel of his soft skin underneath your fingertips.

 A familiar kind of warmth pooling in the pit of your stomach at the way his muscles flexed under your touch. Biting your lip at the thought of what it would be like to watch those same muscles flex as he thrusted deep inside of you.

Perhaps you’d spent a bit too long ogling your bounty hunting companion, because you were pulled from your reverie by Mando clearing his throat. You startled ever so slightly at the sound, a blush creeping over your cheeks when you realized he’d probably noticed what you’d been thinking. What you didn’t realize was, he was thinking something very similar. 

---

Din hadn’t thought much of your position until you’d finished treating his wounds. When you were done, you ran your fingers along the edges of the bandages. Taking detours every so often to trace the old scars nearby. Paying particular attention to the ones on his abdomen.

His breath hitched in his throat at the sight of you so scantily clad, on your knees before him.The image of your perfect mouth wrapped around his cock flickered through his mind, and he felt himself get hard. He bit the inside of his cheek to try and keep his composure. It’d been so long since he felt someone else's skin against his own. The fact that it was your skin he was feeling just made it that much sweeter. 

When he finally pulled himself from his fantasy he noticed the way you were looking at him. The way your eyes were raking over his body, and how you let out a small whine when you bit your lip. A blush crept up Din’s neck and he cleared his throat to get your attention. 

---

“All fixed” you sang, standing up a little too quickly. Your stance wavered and Mando placed his hands firmly on your hips to steady you. 

“Thank you,” he replied, his voice a low rumble through the coder. He stood to meet you but his hands never left your sides.  Instead his thumbs started to absently rub small circles over your hips, then he spoke again. “Are you feeling any better?” 

“Much better,” you answered with a small smile. He moved one of his hands from your hip to your forehead, once again checking your temperature. 

“No more fever.” He stated, with a bit of relief in his tone. The hand on your forehead delicately trailed down to your cheek, then cupped it lightly. 

“Thank you for taking care of me.” You spoke softly and leaned into the warmth of his touch; turning your head so you could kiss his palm. 

“Of course I took care of you, cyar’ika.” He responded, letting out a contented sigh as he rested his beskar covered forehead against yours. 

“I’m just glad you’re alright.” Mando continued, placing a hand on your lower back and pressing you close to him. 

“Feels like you’re a bit more than glad.” You joked, feeling his erection pressed up against your stomach. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered bashfully. Trying in vain to step away from you, but you pulled him back in. 

“It’s okay,” you assured him, taking his hand and guiding it between your legs so he could feel how wet you were. “I uh, I can relate.” 

“Stars” he breathed as he tentatively dragged two fingers through your wet folds. “Are you sure?” 

“Positive” you moaned, arching your back into him as one of his calloused fingers brushed up against your swollen clit. 

That was all the permission Mando needed to continue. Once again he pressed the cold forehead of his helmet against yours, effectively looking you in the eye as he continued his ministrations. 

Your legs shook underneath you, and you dug your nails into Mando’s shoulders, mindful of his wounds, to keep your knees from buckling. Lewd sounds filled the air around you as he slipped two fingers inside of you. 

“So beautiful” he mumbled, with awe in his tone. Watching as your mouth hung open at the pleasure of how sweetly just two of his fingers stretched you. You rocked your hips forward into his hand, desperately trying to get him to move. 

He obliged, slowly dragging his fingers all the way out, then back in. You’d taken to kissing the parts of his neck that you could reach. Biting a little too harshly when he curled his fingers inside you, hitting exactly the right spot. You apologized by soothing the bite with your tongue, earning an anguished groan from deep within Mando’s throat. 

“I want more” you nearly begged. Reaching your hand between the two of you so you could stroke him through his pants. The sound he made rang through your ears, sending shockwaves down your spine. Maker, did you want to hear more. “Take care of me, Mando.” 

“Of course, Cyar’ika.” He replied, his voice quivering when you gave his cock a playful squeeze. He quickly moved to lift you but then cried out in pain. In the heat of the moment, he’d forgotten about his wounds. 

“You okay?” You asked, placing both hands on the side of his helmet, bringing his eyes to yours. Though you couldn’t see his face, the act still felt oddly intimate. 

“Yes, just got a little excited,” he responded with a laugh. You giggled along with him then slid your hands down to his chest. 

“Let me help you,” you offered, pushing him back onto your cot. You straddled his lap once he was sitting down and he rested his hands comfortably on your hips.

“This better?” You asked, watching as he stared up at you through his helmet. He nodded his head in return and rutted his hips up into you. 

You lifted yourself over his lap and removed his hard cock from his pants. It was long, thick, and heavy in your hand. Your mouth nearly watered at the sight. You stroked it a few times before, dragging his warm tip through your soaking folds. Stopping for a moment to tease your clit with it. 

Mando shivered at the sensation, his head falling to your shoulder with a low whine. Carefully you lined him with your entrance before slowly sinking down on him. The way he filled you was sinful, and the dull burn of the way he stretched you made you keen. 

“Please, move” Mando growled, a desperate strain in his voice. His grip on your hips almost was bruising; you wrapped your arms around his neck and did as he asked. Slowly at first as you adjusted, then quicker once you found a good rhythm. 

“Feel so good, cyar’ika” he choked out, his hips snapping up into yours. 

“So do you Mando” you moaned, your head rolling back as his tip brushed up against your sweet spot. 

“Din.” He breathlessly corrected, stopping his motions completely “my name is Din. I wanna hear you say it.”

“Din,” you repeated, lifting his head so he could look you in the eye as you said it. Your chest heaving as you tried out his name again and smiled at the way it rolled off your tongue. This meant something to him, and the thought of that made your heart soar. 

“Mmmmm,” he rasped, the voice coder crackling in your ear. The sound of his name made him move again, with renewed vigor. His hips slapping into yours at a pace that nearly stole the air from your lungs.

One of his hands reached down to rub your clit as he thrusted, and you swore you felt the world start spinning. It was like electricity was coursing through your veins as the pleasure built inside of you. The coil in your stomach wound tighter with each movement.

A pitiful, “I’m gonna-” was all you could choke out before the coil finally snapped and sent a wave of white hot pleasure streaming through your body. Din’s name falling from your lips like a lost prayer to the Maker, the sound ringing out into the galaxy begging to be heard. 

Your fingers scratched down Din’s back, clenching in time with your cunt, sending him over the edge; chanting your name as he tumbled into ecstasy.

The two of you sat there, just holding each other as you tried to catch your breath. Din reached up and lovingly pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, before gently lifting you off his softening cock. 

As he moved to lay down he brought you with him, and you snuggled into his chest. The two of you laid there in comfortable silence. Din’s fingers tracing the expanse of your back, and yours tracing the constellations of scars on his chest. 

“Hey Din,” you called, breaking the silence. 

“Yes?” He responded, sounding as if he was about to fall asleep.

“I’m surprised we didn’t break the cot,” you joked. You heard the laughter rumble in Din’s chest and you looked up at him with a blissful, goofy smile.

“Me too” he agreed, using his free hand to run a finger along your cheekbone. 

“Guess we’ll have to try again.” You shrugged, cuddling back into Din’s chest, earning yourself another laugh. 

“I guess we will, cyare.” He replied, shaking his head as he pulled you closer to him.

[eve-evil-lair]

Night of Research, NSFW, Merman x Human (M)

Okay “not Kay” XD I hope you enjoy it. Allen and Issith belong to my friends Kay ( @singinghands​ ) and Spooder ( @silver-spider-art​ ). This is definitely an AU for the characters.

Disclaimer: Aside of being Polish myself I took some artistic liberties here with how the whole festivity is done. Without further ado- have fun folks. First time writing mlm romance, please be gentle. @monster-bait​ tagging you again but let me know if I should stop xD

If you see this consider reblogging as it seems my posts don’t appear in the tags. Happy Mermay y’all

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

The night of Kupała, the shortest and probably the hottest night of his life. In more meaning that one.

Allen’s great-grandparents were from Poland, they had moved to the States shortly after the country gained independence. His grandmother had told him all the stories her mother, his great-grandmother, would have tell her; about the bloodthirsty strzygi, dancing rusałki and vodyanoys looking for wives among humankind. He has been fascinated with them ever since, much to his parents' dismay.

The fascination turned into passion and passion turned into a degree in folklore and ethnic studies. Finally, he had gotten himself a grant and with that, he set off to Europe to study his childhood stories in person.

He had already spent half a year working happily on his new thesis and he had found a perfect place to study the still alive traditions of Kupała’s night. The locals warned him though to not leave the local celebration because this was one of the nights when the veil between the world of mortals and fae was the thinnest and strange things happened in the forest around them.

The air was thick and the heat stuck to his skin even at night. The cool air from the nearby flow lake helped a little as he kept to the sidelines watching the dancing people. There was some drink being passed and he tried some out of the courtesy. It burned his throat making him cough. The locals had a good laugh out of him. Someone must have thrown something into the fire because suddenly the air filled with the scent of burning herbs and something sweet. He tried writing down as much as he could but his head was getting fuzzy. Taking another drink was a mistake. The heavily honeyed wine coated his throat and burned in his veins. He needed to breathe.

Despite the earlier warnings, he made his way as far as he could from the celebration. He sat down at the sandy shore and tossed his shoes off. The water washed over his feet cooling him down immediately. He laid down and let himself breathe.

Whatever was in the smoke or the drinks, or maybe both affected not just his brain but also his physiology. Knowing that everyone was at the party (and maybe he didn’t think too clearly anyway) he undid his pants and sighed as his dick sprung free, erect and seeping the precum a little.

“Great,” he sighed and wrapped his hand around it pumping his cock. Oh, that felt good. He closed his eyes and let himself fantasise of hot mouth and a heavy hand that didn’t belong to him.

Suddenly something cold touched him and he sprung up alert. His eyes focused and what he was about to scream when a wet finger touched Allen’s mouth and a quiet voice whispered: “Shh.”

The creature before him... the best he could say it was... a mermai- no, a merman? Maybe? The upper part seemed humanoid enough, dark hair and eyes like two voids, his(?) skin was covered in bright orange scales that matched the tail. The creature asked him something and it took him a moment to register. Oh, so they could talk. Not in English though. It seemed his new companion used a sign language. It was a bit of a strange one but similar enough to ASL.

Allen used his best to reply, which seemed to make the merman happy. The fishtail wagging happily over the lake’s surface, splashing water.

“What are you doing here? Not at the party with others?” The merman asked.

“It was getting too much for me, it’s my first time,” Allen replied.

The creature tilted his head. “My name is Issith. You’re not from here?”

“Allen and no.” He shook his head.

“Me neither, I’m visiting friends. They are busy now.” Issith looked to the forest then his eyes fell down at the still erect cock. “Do you want to celebrate too?” He asked simply looking up.

Allen stared back a bit dumbfounded. “I, um-” In all his life as a researcher... This was.... His mouth went dry and his cock twitched. There was lust in these void-like eyes. “Sure.” Allen replied much to his own surprise.

Issith’s mouth stretched in a wide smile. The two met in at first a careful kiss. Testing the waters, heh. It was so strange, a bit more wet, sharper than usual but just as needy. Just as passionate. He marvelled at the difference of a texture of his partner’s tongue. It made him shiver when it moved to his neck. The sand grated over the skin on his back as his clothes were removed. 

The merman found his cock, while their mouths were busy. The wet but strong hand gripped him well and stroked, at first exploring the anatomy, stroking the balls and rubbing his tip, gauging for a reaction. And a reaction he got. Allen gasped and moaned. Already panting, he gritted his teeth, his hips pushing into Issith’s hand. He cracked his eyes open a little and looked down he saw the webbed hand working magic on him. At the edge of his vision he noticed that Issith also was affected. Without thinking Allen reached his own hand and stroked the dick of his partner. The shape, girth and textures were different, more bumpy. He licked his lips as his brain tried to work out how it’d feel to taste it. For research of course.

Issith moaned in his ear and sharp teeth traced Allen’s earlobe. Encouraged, Allen squeezed him a little and continued to stroke. His hands went into the damp strands of Issith’s hair, while the merman’s tail wrapped around his legs.

Issith was now directly above him. Their eyes met as both males breathed heavily. Their cocks touched and the two worked each other, faster and faster until the tension was too much to bear. Allen couldn’t stop himself. He bit Issith’s neck and the merman finished with a growl and as if in retaliation bit Allen’s shoulder. It brought stars under his eyes and he came. Their mixed, hot seed staining both their stomachs. 

The merman collapsed next to Allen and sighed. Lazily he lift his hands and signed “Nice,” stretching the word with the movement.

“Yeah, it was,” Allen agreed. The bit stung a little now. “Am I bleeding?” 

“Sorry, wait,” Issith siged, looking sheepishly at him. He nuzzled Allen’s head before splashing back into the water. He returned quickly back with something that looked like first aid kid in a waterproof bag. 

“Thanks,” Allen smiled and let the merman dress the bit. “So, I’m going to be here for a couple more months... do you want to hang out some more?”

Issith nodded and smiled, his tail swishing happily. He finished wrapping the bite mark and stroked Allen’s arm affectionately. 

“Great.” Allen laid down on the sand again and patted the spot next to him. “I like the sky here. You don’t get to see this much stars where I’m from.” 

Issith laid next to him. The night was long, the noise of the humans celebrating was far in the distance. This was a really good choice coming here after all. 

[delimeful]

shapes in the silence (5)

warnings: violence, dissociation, cliffhanger

Chapter 5

The days went on, and settled into a steady rhythm, just how Virgil liked it. 

He’d spend the day with the others in his smaller form, sitting on laps, curled up against someone’s side, or tucked into the crook of their elbow as they went about their day, occasionally dragged into whatever event they planned up. He started leaning into touches instead of away, letting himself croon or chirp or purr when no mocking words came, sometimes even following the others into their rooms and simply spending time with them as they engaged in what they loved. 

It made it all the more jarring whenever he ran into them at night, as Anxiety, the dark side they had to be wary of. But it was better than nothing, and as pathetic as he was, he’d take it.

Luckily, after the first couple of times he vanished in the middle of the night, they stopped being so worried when he mysteriously vanished, and though the cuff remained, there was no more talk of tracking. Almost every night, he’d leave on his own to go back to his room, and spend the night making sure everything was running smoothly with Thomas. Once the morning came and the others woke up, he’d focus on those feelings of shame and fear that seemed so far away in his dragon form and force himself back into that state of odd disconnect. He found it became easier and easier with practice. 

The routine didn’t make for much consistent sleep, but he’d never gotten much of that anyhow. He caught naps among the company of the other sides, and they were deep and dreamless. 

Patton took some convincing, since he seemed worried about Anxiety’s suddenly more reclusive behavior. He managed to catch him up baking in the kitchen in the early hours of the morning, and after firmly telling him that he was fine, just feeling like he needed more time to himself, Patton let it go. 

It probably helped that he’d kept his hood up for that conversation; the bags under his eyes seemed to get a little deeper every time he changed back. No matter how calm and almost… content he felt when in that form, as soon as he turned back, his negative emotions seemed to cascade down on him. It was what kept him changing back every night. He was worried that the longer he spent in that form, the more severe the pushback would be. 

He already suspected it was affecting Thomas, too, occasionally keeping him up late with haunting thoughts. He didn’t want to make it any worse. Despite what the others thought, he could do his job without being cruel. It was just… easier to act tough when the person you loved the most was scared at the sight of you. 

Anyways, everything was easier to manage like this. He could keep an eye on things the others were up to, and even if his effect on Thomas seemed a bit diluted in this form, it was still present. 

Even if Patton was sometimes too grabby, or Roman too loud, or Logan too interested in his anatomy, they always backed off when he expressed his displeasure. It was… different, being listened to. 

He could do without the nickname, though.

“Puff!” Patton cheered, scooping him off the back of the couch where he had been idly considering the merits of hoarding quarters. “Hey, where’d you go, little guy! We missed you!” 

Virgil flicked his ears back, lifting his snout up as if to say ‘let a dragon have his secrets, won’t you?’ Patton giggled, and as always, didn’t press. “Well, welcome back! I think Roman wanted to hang out with you today, would you like a lift?”

He clicked absently in agreement and climbed up Patton’s arm to his shoulder, relishing the tallness. Patton chuckled and started over to Roman’s hall, Virgil shifting his weight to stay steady as he walked. 

“Knock knock!” Patton said, poking his head in past Roman’s partially open door. 

“Padre! And Puff!” Roman grinned good-naturedly at Virgil’s huff. The nickname was his fault, and he admitted it proudly. Patton smiled, and then jumped slightly as a timer’s ‘ding’ sounded from the kitchen. 

“Oh, I have to go get those out to cool! I’ll be in the kitchen if you two need anything!” 

Virgil ducked his head in a slight nod, and then leaped from Patton to Roman, making the latter shriek in alarm for a moment by using his head as a landing pad. He scrambled for balance, careful to keep his claws sheathed as Roman reached up to grab him. 

“Little fiend!” He said, waving goodbye to an amused Patton. “You’re lucky I like you.”

Virgil groomed his foreleg, ignoring both Roman and the way his words made his heart jump strangely. The creative side chuckled. 

“Well, you have perfect timing, for I have just finished crafting your gift!” 

He narrowed his eyes, suspicious. A gift? What kind of gift? This was new. 

He wasn’t kept in anticipation for long, as Roman set him down on his broad crafting table and offered him a circle woven of multiple threads. It was big enough to fit as a loose necklace on him, meaning it was about bracelet-sized for Roman. He ducked his head through it, curious, as Roman began to explain.  

“It’s a charmed charm! Designed to conceal all traces of your presence from Anxiety.” 

A thrum of alarm passed through him, but the charm was already on, and the fear washed away like sidewalk chalk in the rain. If he’d thought things were muted before, it was nothing compared to now. The room didn’t seem so scary anymore, colors just slightly shifted, and he had the urge to go investigate the more shiny objects laying around. He shook his head slightly. This wasn’t right. What was he doing, again? 

The charmed bracelet shifted at the movement. Oh, that’s right. He wanted it off, for some reason. Couldn’t remember why, but it wasn’t particularly easy to look at when it was on him. If it was well-made, he could find a nice place to hide it away. Mind made up, he carefully pawed the bracelet back over his head, and-

The world snapped back into clarity, and Virgil dropped the charm with a stuttering gasp. That… had almost been very bad. He hadn’t even felt like himself, like the distance of his dragon form multiplied by a thousand. 

“Puff? You okay?” Roman was leaning over, concerned. 

Virgil crooned a reassurance at him automatically, ears slightly flattened. He could tell a lot of work had been put into this. How was he going to get out of wearing this without rejecting it? Maybe he could just wear it despite the effects…? No, even the thought made him shudder.

He picked the bracelet up in his mouth, proffering it to Roman insistently until he lowered his hand to take the gift back, a little disheartened. Virgil immediately shoved the bracelet over onto his wrist instead, insistently pulling it along until it was firmly stuck on the creative side’s arm. 

Almost immediately, Roman became a bit blurrier to his eyes, more washed out. If he tried to focus, he found that his gaze would slip right off as though Roman wasn’t there. Still, there was apparently enough of a change from ‘Anxiety’ in this form that Roman’s charm didn’t fully register him. In his normal form, Roman would probably be almost entirely invisible to him. He’d have to be more careful.

“What- Puff, this is for you, not me.” Roman said, and Virgil shook his head stubbornly. Something in Roman’s face softened, an expression that he couldn’t quite read. He reached over and ran a thumb along the scales on the back of Virgil’s head, and he couldn’t help but lean into the touch, ear twitching. 

“I appreciate your concern, little dragon, but I have no need of this charm. As a dashing prince, it’s only natural that I can hold my own against villains like Anxiety.” 

Virgil ducked out from under the hand, shooting him a glare. Maybe he would win in a fair fight, but ’villains’ didn’t fight fair like Roman did. It was the whole reason he caught the creative side off guard and shoved him before. The idiot should be more wary, honestly. 

(He ignored the familiar bitter pang of hurt at the implication that he would try to hurt Roman. Argue with, always. But hurt? Never. That was the opposite of his purpose.)  

Roman sighed fondly. “Very well, if it will make you feel better. As long as you remain in range of me, it should serve its purpose either way.” 

Virgil tilted his head in query. Roman grinned and offered an arm for him to scale. “We’re going to go to the Imagination once more today!” 

Virgil, who had been in the process of climbing up to his shoulder, nearly toppled over as he reared back, giving Roman an incredulous look and a startled squawk. 

“Easy!” Roman laughed, steadying him with a hand. “I want you to experience my realm as a place of freedom and joy, not fear. The charm will keep us hidden from any specters Anxiety might create, I promise you that, on my honor.” 

Maybe it was the charm. Maybe it was just that he’d never had the opportunity to be in the Imagination without constantly looking over his shoulder, fearing attack. Maybe he just felt a little reckless. Regardless of reasoning, Virgil found himself climbing back up to Roman’s shoulder and hesitantly chirping his assent. 

The bright grin of the creative side made it feel worth it.

In no time at all, they were making their way through the entrance to the Imagination, Roman setting the location somewhere ‘easy’ to start. 

The quiet autumn woods they emerged into were peaceful, the sun overhead and a light breeze rustling through the leaves. 

“So, what do you think?” Roman gestured, as though he was presenting a shining gold castle instead of an admittedly beautiful forest. Virgil tilted his head consideringly, and then turned up his nose. Roman snorted. “Oh, not good enough for you, Spitfire?” 

Roman started off through the woods, narrating the many flora and fauna he had created for this section of the Mindscape as Virgil settled himself in the crook of his elbow. He found himself relaxing more than he ever had in the Imagination before, for once not haunted by the feeling of being pursued. He pushed his face against Roman’s hand and let the soothing vibrations of his voice rumble around him as they walked. 

Naturally, it couldn’t last. 

He knew something was wrong from the moment Roman’s voice abruptly cut off, but he didn’t start panicking until he heard the side unsheathe his sword. He didn’t sense any of the shades, not even on the peripheral, and the charm was working, so what? Had he given himself away somehow? Was Roman going to-

“Well, well, well.” A melodious voice echoed around them, and Virgil stiffened. “What are the odds, running into you here?” 

“Dragon Witch.” Roman gritted out, raising a hand to hover over Virgil protectively. “Nobody invited you to this party.” 

A rustling from above, and Virgil watched as a figure appeared above them, leaning against a sturdy branch. Their features were obscured by a white plague doctor’s mask, and they wore a cloak comprised of rattling scales. Dragon scales. 

“Come now, Disney connoisseur. You know what happens when you forget to invite the most powerful of them all… you get cursed.” 

Roman spat something back, but Virgil was distracted by the slightest movement of that uncanny mask, and the immediate certainty that he was being watched. 

“Oh? What’s this?” The Dragon Witch hopped down from the tree boroughs, landing mere meters away. Roman immediately hiked his sword up.  

“Back off!” 

A laugh split the air. “Oh, so you’re defending a dragon now, noble prince? Seems a bit out of character for you to defend one of my kin, hmm?” 

Roman scowled, retreating a step as they drew closer. Their cloak rattled, and Virgil felt his own scales rise like an angry cat’s hackles. “Puff is different. Keep away, I’m warning you!”

“Hah.” They suddenly sounded unamused, sending a chill down Virgil’s spine. “Well, let’s see how long you’ll believe that when I… even the odds a bit.” 

Before the last word was uttered, they were moving. Roman cursed, and threw himself back, rolling and popping back up to his feet. Virgil dug into his sleeve with his claws, desperately trying to hang on as he kept an eye on the blur that was the Dragon Witch. He cried out a warning too late, and their sharp talons tore through Roman’s other sleeve, dying it red. 

Roman immediately lashed out with his sword, but instead of pressing their advantage, the Dragon Witch withdrew completely, retreating until they stood halfway across the clearing. Virgil hissed at them, teeth bared in a useless gesture. 

“Since you’re so fond of that tiny runt, I’m sure you’ll agree he deserves a prince to match.” 

Roman leaned over heavily, and Virgil yelped and jumped from his arm, twisting as soon as he hit the ground to both click at Roman in concern and keep the Dragon Witch in view. 

The creative side looked pale, stumbling a bit as though dizzy, and before Virgil could do anything, there was an almost cartoonish poof of smoke around him. 

When the smoke cleared, Roman had vanished. 

No, not vanished, Virgil realized as a small shout of alarm sounded in front of him. Roman was just… almost proportionate to him now, standing at around three inches to Virgil’s six. He was tiny, gripping his sword with white knuckles. They stared at each other, stunned. 

“Now,” the Dragon Witch said gleefully, voice layered with magic. “Why don’t you show this prince exactly where he belongs on the food chain!”

[summahsunlight]

This Way Became My Journey, Ch. 23

While the computer was running its diagnostic on the alien device, B'Elanna Torres had snuck away to the mess hall to grab a ration pack for lunch. Well maybe she hadn't really snuck away; Captain Janeway had after all given her permission to take a small break. But it sure felt like sneaking away, with Michael breathing down her neck wanting to know every little thing that came up about the device. Snatching a ration pack up she went to join a Bajoran, by the name of Seska, who was sitting at a table in the middle of the room.

"I didn't think Janeway was ever going to let you leave the bridge," Seska drawled with that sly grin of hers as B'Elanna took a seat.

B'Elanna shrugged her shoulders. "I think she felt bad that her kid was watching over everything I did. Anyways I don't have a lot of time. I need to get back up there to finish working on that device that Chakotay brought back from the planetoid."

"If you ask me this is a waste of time," Seska replied, pushing her empty ration pack to the side. "We shouldn't be chasing after any aliens that like to harvest organs. It could end up getting us all killed."

"Neelix could die if we don't track them down," B'Elanna said, slightly shocked by her friend's cold tone.

It was Seska's turn to shrug her tiny shoulders. "The Doctor has kept him alive this long; that's better than most people can say if they had just had their lungs stolen."

"And what if it was Chakotay that had been attacked? Or Harry? Would you feel the same way?"

"Of course. Neelix should be counting his blessings while the rest of us get to the real work of finding dilithium to help the power shortage," Seska answered, her dark eyes studying B'Elanna's face. "You don't actually agree with Janeway's decision to go chasing after these aliens do you?"

B'Elanna averted her eyes. "To tell you the truth, I think it's rather noble."

Seska scoffed. "One noble deed doesn't make up for her selfish decision to strand us here."

The hatred for Janeway that was laced in Seska's voice was not lost on B'Elanna and the young Klingon woman suddenly found that she was not hungry anymore. Pushing the tray away from her, she looked her friend, or someone she had once regarded as a friend, in the eye. "Seska, I know it hasn't been easy the past month, adjusting to life on a Starfleet ship, but believe me when I say that Captain Janeway has the best intentions of this entire crew at heart."

"You didn't think that way a month ago," Seska pointed out.

B'Elanna shook her head. "No, I didn't. But the past few weeks I've worked closely with her and my opinion has changed. If we had used the array to get home, there would have been people back in the Alpha Quadrant who thought her decision to sacrifice the Ocampa selfish. Either way, she couldn't win."

Seska got up from the table angrily. "You're starting to sound like all those delusional Starfleet idiots."

The Chief Engineer watched as the Bajoran left the table and stalked out of the mess hall. B'Elanna wasn't sure why Seska was having the hardest adjustment out of them all. Perhaps she felt like she had been slighted by Janeway when she wasn't given a higher rank, after all, she was Chakotay's former lover. And then there was B'Elanna's promotion to chief engineer. It was never spoken between the two, but B'Elanna knew that Seska was jealous of her friend's promotion and the trust that Janeway put in her. She also knew that Seska wasn't too keen on all time the B'Elanna had taken to hanging out with Harry Kim in the mess hall or for a stroll on the holodeck. But Harry had been the only one nice to her, on the Starfleet side that is, for their first few days, and she was grateful for that.

It wasn't her fault that she was sliding into fit with the crew and Seska was struggling. She just needs to make friends outside of the Maquis, that's all. 

B'Elanna decided that the next time Harry joined her for dinner she was going to ask Seska to join them. She was sure that Harry would be friendly and make an attempt to befriend Seska no matter how unreceptive Seska seemed.

Speaking of Harry, B'Elanna was sure that Janeway had given him a fifteen minute break to eat something as well. Maybe she had missed him when she had first come in the room. Glancing around she soon found that it had been easy to miss him. He was seated at a corner table with Sarah Barrett. B'Elanna instantly felt…jealousy.

She was shocked by this, at first. There was nothing romantically going on between her and Harry so she shouldn't be bothered if there was something between him and the counselor. But then she remembered Elle Platt, back from her Academy days. Elle had the same dark, coffee brown hair as Sarah, same enticing sapphire eyes. B'Elanna had thought Elle had been her friend and had told her about her crush on one of their classmates. They never spoke of it again, until B'Elanna had seen Elle with her crush, cuddling on the lawn one warm afternoon. Elle later told her some story about wanting to keep B'Elanna safe because she only would have been hurt, that her crush never would have dated a half Klingon.

B'Elanna, who had always resented human girls, with their silky locks of hair, and smooth foreheads, had shortly left the Academy after that. So was it this fact that Sarah looked so much like Elle that she was jealous of the time she spent with Harry? And if she ever did want to be more than Harry's friend, how could she compete with the perfection that Sarah was?

She was shocked at this realization. Being more than Harry's friend? He was Starfleet, a nice guy, but still Starfleet. Well what's so wrong with that? They had been through so much together on the Ocampa home world, she had connected with him in a way that she had yet to connect to anyone else on the ship, with maybe the exception of Chakotay. And that's when her emotions switched to jealousy to downright anger.

Sarah could have any man she wanted on this ship, with the bat of her pretty little eyelashes, why was she with Harry? Good, even Tom Paris was eating out of the palm of her hand and she had taken the one guy that B'Elanna actually felt…feelings towards. It figures the one nice guy on this ship— 

"Seat taken?"

B'Elanna glanced up to see Tom Paris. She shook her head. "No."

He sat down and dropped his ration pack tray in front of him. His grayish eyes looked up to see what she was looking at and he frowned.

This peaked her curiosity even more. Was Tom's feelings about Sarah more than just wanting a date? B'Elanna suddenly didn't feel so bad that she was not the only one who was jealous on this ship. "Something wrong with the view?" she teased.

Tom only frowned more as Harry and Sarah got up and left the mess hall together, laughing about something. "No, nothing's wrong with the view."

"If I didn't know you any better Paris, I'd say you were jealous," she continued teasing getting up from the table and going to recycle her tray. It was time to get back to working on the alien device and the diagnostic. She would have to push thoughts of Harry aside until further notice.

However, the thoughts of Harry and Sarah eating lunch together, sharing a laugh, just would not escape her no matter how hard she tried to get her work done. Michael Janeway was still standing over her shoulder, soaking in every last bit of information that the computer was coming up with. If that kept up he could his mother the report and B'Elanna could return to engineering where her real work was.

Mindlessly drumming her fingers on the console she noticed Tuvok raise an eyebrow. "Does that form of activity make the computer scan faster?" the Vulcan questioned her.

"No, but it keeps me occupied while we wait." The doors of the bridge swishing open brought her attention about and Paris strode back onto the bridge, no trace of the frown he had worn in the mess hall. How can he let it go so easily? Oh, that's right, he's a pig. He probably has another love interest lined up behind Sarah and the Delaney sisters.

The computer beeping brought her attention about. "Captain," she called out, getting Janeway's attention. "We've completed our diagnostic on the alien device."

Janeway strode over to join the group, which was an odd mix when you really thought about it; a Vulcan, a five year old human boy, and a half Klingon. "What have you got?"

"It appears to be more than a weapon," B'Elanna reported. "It's also a very sophisticated medical scanner and surgical instrument."

"From what we can tell," Tuvok said, handing the device to Janeway, "it uses a neural resonator to stun the victim while a quantum imaging scanner begins a microcellular analysis of the entire body.

"The amount of information this thing can gather puts a tricorder to shame," B'Elanna continued. "You fire this at someone you learn everything about their anatomy, right down to their DNA sequencing."

Janeway turned the device over in her hands. "So we're dealing with aliens who've developed a technology specifically designed for extracting organs from other beings. The question is…why?" Chakotay demanded her attention and she mindlessly put the device down onto the science console.

"The alien ship has dropped out of warp," the first officer reported. "It's approaching a large asteroid."

The captain went to stand on the command station next to Lieutenant Barrett while Tuvok took his own station. "On screen."

"It's entered the asteroid captain," Paris reported.

"Hold position."

There were very little options that Janeway had at this moment. She could either take the ship into the asteroid if it was wide enough or she could try to flush the aliens out some how. But that could take hours, and Neelix didn't have hours. Even though the Doctor had come up with a solution for the time being, no one really knew how long he could survive using holographic lungs, not to mention that if ship's system ever went down and the emitters went off line, Neelix would die.

"MICHAEL!"

The shear volume of Lieutenant Barrett's voice startled everyone on that bridge and all eyes snapped about looking for the child.

The boy was standing at the door to the ready room and immediately Janeway could see that he had the alien device clutched in his little hands. The captain had moved the baby into the ready room so she could comfortably nap and she had no doubt that her son was about to test the device out on his baby sister. How could I be so careless with something that dangerous around? She hadn't even seen Michael move from his spot near the science station, for that matter, neither had B'Elanna. Michael was terribly clever, a trait that Janeway knew had been inherited from her; he could easily slip away from baby sitters, his mother, etc.

So how had Sarah seen it?

Michael looked sheepishly up at his mother. "I just wanted to see Ava's DNA."

His mother gestured that he give her the device back and he complied.

"Sit there," Janeway instructed, pointing to her chair.

Chakotay cleared his throat while the boy did as he was told. "Uh, Captain, we've determined the asteroid is man made."

Fascinating. What's even more fascinating that Sarah knew Michael had that device; another question for another time, perhaps. 

"I think I've located where the alien ship entered the asteroid, Captain," Paris was saying bringing their attention about to the situation at hand. "There's an open crater on the limb of the asteroid."

"Let's see it," Chakotay ordered and the viewscreen changed from the image of the asteroid to the opening that Paris had found.

Janeway crossed her arms over her chest. "How large is that crater, Mister Paris?"

"Two hundred meters in diameter."

"Captain," Tuvok cautioned. "May I suggest that you consider carefully what you're about to do?"

"How do you know what I'm about to do?" Janeway asked, raising an eyebrow and glancing at Tuvok.

"I could describe you in detail the psychological observations I have made of you over the past four years," Tuvok answered, calmly. "Which lead me to conclude that you are about to take this ship into the asteroid, but suffice it to say, I know you quite well."

"One of these days, I'm going to surprise you Tuvok," she replied, with a wry grin. "But not today."

Janeway moved back into the command station and briefly looked at her counselor. "I've already consider other options. If Neelix has any chance of surviving, we have to act fast. Red Alert. Mister Paris lay in a course. Mister Tuvok maximum shields, phasers at the ready."

The Captain turned about in the command station and looked hotly at Michael, "And you stay right there and don't touch anything."

"Yes ma'am."

Voyager glided into the asteroid while Janeway made her way down the command steps to stand next to Chakotay and behind Paris. Her eyes watched the screen intently as the cavern's walls began to narrow.

"Captain," Paris said. "I'm reducing power to the aft-thrusters only. This passageway is getting a little too narrow for my taste."

"Use your discretion Mister Paris," Janeway replied, turning towards Tuvok. "Any sign of the alien ship, Commander?"

"We're still following the ion trail," Tuvok answered, "but electromagnetic interference is limiting our sensor range. I'm only able to scan five hundred meters a head of us."

Chakotay asked the next question. "Are there any indications we're being scanned or probed Mister Kim."

"Not yet."

"Sick bay to Bridge. May I enlist the services of Counselor Barrett please?"

Janeway glanced up at the lieutenant. Was it her imagination or did the Doctor sound anxious? "Certainly Doctor, she's on her way, Janeway out." For a moment the women made eye contact. "You heard the Doctor, he needs your help, we're just going to have to handle first contact without you."

[purplepersnicketywrites]

In Pursuit of Butterflies

TSUMINA for @a-hopeless-optimist

Prompt: 33. An unexpected kiss that shocks the one receiving it.

you awakened something in me and this is just. a fic now. ;o T-rated as all my stuff is! i’ma go stick it on ao3 now

There’s a healthy dose of krbk in here too because I can’t help myself, but that’s mostly a Bonus Scene at the end of the Tsumina content!

___

Mina grinned around at her classmates. Not everyone was here - Jirou had gone to bed early, Shinsou was out at a late-night internship, and Aoyama was bust crafting something out of cheese in the kitchen - but most of class 3A were sat in a circle in the common room, ready to play.

She liked this game, a strange mashup of Truth or Dare, Seven Minutes in Heaven, and Spin the Bottle. It was fun to see the way everyone reacted to the match-ups, what they chose to do. As the current Mistress of the Bottle, it was Mina’s job to spin for everyone.

If the Bottle landed on you, you were given two options - you told a truth or performed a dare picked by the last person the Bottle landed on. If you wanted to forfeit, the Bottle was spun again and you had to play Seven Minutes in Heaven with whoever it landed on. The other person could pass, of course, and the Bottle would keep spinning until someone agreed.

There had been some very interesting events sparked by the Bottle so far. Mina had gotten very good at both feigning surprise and spinning the Bottle itself to land wherever she wanted it to land. It wasn’t really meddling, but, well, Mina was a romantic at heart. So what if she wanted to give some of her friends a little nudge in the right direction?

Mina had managed to work out from her reactions in second year that Ochako’s crush was on Midoriya rather than Iida - the two had both been viable candidates in Mina’s eyes. Unfortunately she hadn’t managed to wrangle them into playing Seven Minutes together yet, somehow, and no one in this circle seemed like they wanted to instigate anything today, either.

It wasn’t like Mina could fix anything for herself while she was the one spinning- as the Mistress of the Bottle she was exempt from it landing on her (or being able to issue truths or dares, which was a fair swap in power). That and, well, it wasn’t like she had a crush on anyone yet anyway. Unfortunately.

She could tell that a lot of the boys in the class were handsome, but none of them had ever given her the butterflies she’d read about. It was kind of annoying, actually, that she’d gone almost her whole high-school career without even a whiff of romance. She wanted to be in love already!

Anyway, the universe had just given her a brilliant opportunity: dearest, darling Eijirou had just refused to answer a question about whether his quirk affected certain parts of his anatomy - crass, Kaminari, but effective - which meant he was in the line-up for Seven Minutes.

Mina grinned and spun the bottle. It landed, as Mina had planned, on Bakugou.

Eijirou turned almost as red as his hair, while Bakugou seemed to have been able to keep a lid on his own reaction. Damn, Mina would have paid money to see Blasty get flustered.

Bakugou stood, dragging Kirishima up with him. “Come on then, idiot. Let’s get this over with.”

“Wh- Really?” Kirishima asked, eyes too wide and voice filled with too much hope. Mina sighed. These boys were so bad at subtlety. Everyone knew that they’d been into each other for years now, other than themselves, apparently. “You don’t have to, man!”

“I said I would! Shut up,” Bakugou snapped. Interesting, he hadn’t let go of Kirishima’s arm. Would today be the day? Bakugou glared at the circle of classmates. “I’m not getting locked in that fucking box, though, so none of you fuckers need to follow us.”

Kaminari waved his phone in the air. “You need a timer or something? I’ll come and get you when the time’s up.”

Kirishima shot him a thumbs up before Bakugou began to drag them away to the closet the class had chosen for the game, one around the corner and near the stairs.

“A hundred yen says they don’t come back,” Sero said once they were out of earshot, and Mina laughed. That was the plan, wasn’t it?

“Why wouldn’t they come back?” Todoroki asked.

Midoriya flushed. “Ah, they might want to extend the game?”

“But the game is seven minutes,” Todoroki said. Ah, poor, poor sheltered boy.

“I meant that I think they’ll stop playing,” Sero said. “And disappear somewhere to make out for real.”

Todoroki’s eyes widened. “Oh! I see. I didn’t know they were dating.”

“They’re not,” Ochako said. “But we’re all hoping that they will be soon.”

Todoroki nodded slowly, absorbing the information. “That’d be good for them, I think.”

“Hey, Ashido,” Kaminari said, and Mina turned her head to look at him. “Wanna swap Bottle duties?”

“Yeah, okay!” Mina said. She thought that she’d probably made enough of an impact today - best to quit while she was ahead. Ooh, now she could truth-or-dare people!

“Well, we’re not gonna wait for Bakugou and Kirishima to get back, so you can call the next thing, Ashido,” Kaminari said, giving the Bottle a whirl. “Satou! It’s you.”

“Uh, truth?”

Mina thought about it. “Hmm, what’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever tried baking?”

---

Momo called for a quick break for everyone around twenty minutes later, and as most of the class moved off to go to the bathroom or grab a drink of water Mina saw Kaminari take the opportunity to go see if the closet was free. As Sero had predicted, Kirishima and Bakugou hadn’t come back to the group.

“Empty,” Kaminari said with glee in his voice as he scurried back over to the Bottle. “But! There is evidence they were there.”

Sero leaned towards him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah! So like, there are like, scorch marks, right,” Kaminari said.

“Oh?” Mina tilted her head and Kaminari nodded with enthusiasm.

“Yeah! About, like, either side of where I think Kirishima’s shoulders would’ve been, so damn, Bakugou must’ve been feeling intense,” Kaminari said. “And that’s not all! There are scratches in the wood some ways below them? Like Kirishima’s hands were just dangling at his sides and his quirk activated and he had to grip onto something.”

“Whoa. You don’t think that they...?” Sero let his voice drop into a whisper. “You know?”

“I dunno, I’m just sayin’ what I saw,” Kaminari said, lifting his hands into the air.

Mina whistled low. “That’s what they get for letting all that tension build up between them.”

Their classmates began to trickle back into the circle, so they let the topic drop. A few more truths were given and dares completed - Tokoyami revealed that his parents owned several cats, Tooru said that she had used her quirk to pinch extra goodies at her parents’ bakery a few times, and Shouji had shown them a glimpse of the mouth he kept hidden under his mask.

Then Tsuyu declined to say if she had a crush on anyone or not. Interesting, because that was pretty much code for ‘yeah but don’t pry about it’ and Tsuyu had never mentioned a crush on anyone during their girls’ nights. Mina still planned to ask later - maybe when it was just the girls? She loved to know what her classmates were doing romantically. At the very least she could live vicariously through them.

The room went silent as Kaminari spun the Bottle. Who was gonna join Tsuyu for Seven Minutes? The Bottle turned, and turned, and then-

Mina blinked. It was her. Huh.

“Are you okay with that, Mina?” Tsuyu asked, getting to her feet.

“Uh, totally,” Mina said, standing up. Her heart began to beat a little faster. It had been a long while since she’d been picked for this by the Bottle, and that had been with Aoyama a couple of months ago. They’d spent the whole Seven Minutes time gossiping about their other classmates.

Somehow, Mina didn’t think that Tsuyu would be one for gossip about the others. Would she want to talk about other stuff, though? Like her crush? Or would she just stand in vaguely embarrassed silence? Or-

“Right, let’s go shut you girls in,” Kaminari said, bounding up and grabbing for the key to the closet on one of the counters. Tsuyu stepped into the closet first, and Mina followed behind her. Kaminari shot them both a grin. “You good? I’ll let you out once the time is up!”

The door closed, covering Kaminari’s face, and the lock clicked. Well. Huh. Mina really was here in the closet with Tsuyu, huh? Mina leant back against the wall. She hadn’t had the opportunity to check out Kaminari’s claims for herself - which side were the scorch marks on? She reached a hand down and ran it over the wood. Ah, yeah, those were some deep-feeling grooves, four of them in the shape of finger scratches. There was a matching set on the other side that she traced with her other hand.

Tsuyu’s hand on her arm brought Mina’s attention back to the present, and the situation they were in. Locked in a closet together. Mina supposed that Tsuyu would probably be okay standing just a little too close for a few minutes? It might be the perfect opportunity to pry a little about Tsuyu’s crush, but she’d probably have to work up to that one instead of just blurting out a question.

“So, what did you want to-” Mina found herself interrupted by a soft press of lips on her own.

Oh.

Oh.

Mina couldn’t help but suck in a gasp as Tsuyu pulled back.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I should have asked first,” Tsuyu said. “I got a little nervous and just- Are you okay, kero?”

“Uh,” Mina said, robbed of words. “Yeah! I’m fine, I just, I didn’t think that you’d want to do it? The kissing thing, I mean.”

“I don’t mind, really,” Tsuyu said. Huh. Even with a crush on someone, Tsuyu was still willing to play. “But I don’t have that much experience with kissing, kero, so it might not be that enjoyable.”

Mina snorted. Her own experiences were drawn from playground and party games like this - never anything other than brief contact with boys and a sense of everything being kind of ridiculous. “I haven’t kissed many people much either, so, that’s fine?”

“Did you want to keep going, then?” Tsuyu asked.

Did she? Mina hadn’t really had the opportunity to kiss any girls before. Hey, why not? “Sure.”

Tsuyu kissed her again, and this time Mina was ready to kiss back. It was nice, Mina decided, hands moving to Tsuyu’s waist in something that might have been an instinct.

It occurred to Mina that Tsuyu was a good nine inches shorter than her, so she must be leaning up in order to kiss her. Tsuyu was likely on the tips of her toes to make up for the difference in their heights. That was... Something warm and tingly made its way through Mina’s gut, and she leant down to even them out a little more.

She had always sort of assumed that she would be the one stretching upwards for a kiss. That she would find some magical Prince Charming who would sweep her off her feet. He’d be tall, because that was what girls were supposed to like. She’d have to have her arms around his neck as he lifted her a little. Maybe she would even be carried?

This was different. It was different, and it was good. Leaning down felt more right than expected. Mina found that she liked kissing Tsuyu, she liked the way their lips moved together, she liked the way Tsuyu’s long fingers had found their way into her hair. Mina really liked that Tsuyu was a girl, actually, as she circled her thumbs over the frog-girl’s hipbones, and that was some kind of revelation.

Maybe Mina had never had a crush before because she’d been looking in the wrong place.

Mina had to break the kiss to really think about that. Whoa. Girls. Mina liked girls? It... Made a lot of sense? But then again, surely she’d have had those damned elusive butterflies looking at a girl at some point? Wasn’t that how people usually figured out they liked certain people? Ugh, this was so frustrating.

“Mina?” Tsuyu’s voice was soft, and her hands dropped to Mina’s shoulders as she moved back a little - though not all that far given the limited space they were dealing with. “Are you-”

“Still fine,” Mina said, finding herself to be a little breathless. “S-sorry for just stopping like that, uh, I think I might be gay?”

“Oh.”

“I’ve never kissed a girl before,” Mina confessed. “But it’s better with you than any boys I’ve ever kissed.”

“I’ve only ever kissed girls,” Tsuyu said, and Mina found herself oddly surprised.

She swallowed. “Really?”

“Not many,” Tsuyu said. “But yes, kero, only girls.”

“And how do I shape up?” Mina asked. Gosh, hanging around with Bakugou, the embodiment of competitive spirit, must have rubbed off on her a little. Did she really want to know?

“It’s the best so far,” Tsuyu said, moving closer again. “Can I kiss you again?”

Mina nodded before she remembered they were kind of in the dark here. “Yes.”

Tsuyu’s mouth was just as gentle and soft as before. Mina wondered if Tsuyu would mind if their mouths opened a little more, or if that would push things too far. Mina wasn’t sure if what they were doing could strictly be called a friends thing, but at the same time... The closet was like a liminal space. Once they were out, the feel of Tsuyu’s lips on hers would only really be a memory, hazy like a half-remembered dream.

Something in Mina’s gut curled unpleasantly at the thought. If it was all going to be forgotten anyway, then maybe going a little further wouldn’t be too amiss. Mina had never tried French-kisses before, but maybe- Oh. Tsuyu’s tongue was like a frog’s, wasn’t it? How would that feel? Slippery? Sticky? Would they even be able to kiss that way or was Tsuyu’s tongue a little too big?

It was weird, but, Mina was kind of excited to see for herself, or feel, rather. Seeing wasn’t currently an option for them.

Mina let her own tongue flick out, just a little, over the seam of Tsuyu’s lips. Tsuyu’s grip on her shoulders tightened, and the girl with the frog quirk hummed. Mina lurched forwards, pressing Tsuyu back against the wall of the closet, and licked again. Mina moved one of her hands to cradle Tsuyu’s jaw as Tsuyu opened her mouth.

Tsuyu’s tongue was kinda... Slimy? But not in a terrible way. Mina’s thoughts were a jumble, but somewhere in there the idea that she’d be happy to get used to it flickered through her brain. There couldn’t be all that much time left out of Seven Minutes, though, surely?

“Fuck,” Mina hissed, as one of Tsuyu’s hands made its way under her t-shirt to splay over her waist. Tsuyu’s fingers were warm, almost burning, and Mina bit back a sound building in her throat. “Tsu.”

Tsuyu hesitated. “Are you still okay with this?”

“Touch,” Mina panted. “Please.”

Mina felt like she was on fire. Nothing had ever been like this before, and she leant her face down into the crook of Tsuyu’s shoulder as the frog girl’s fingers traced the muscles of her stomach. No one had ever tried to... Explore Mina like this, to trace patterns her skin like Tsuyu was doing. She wanted more, which was strange and new and exciting.

Somehow, Mina didn’t think she’d be able to forget what was happening right now in the closet any time soon

“Mina,” Tsuyu said, pulling her hand back and Mina’s shirt down. Mina almost groaned at the loss of contact. “Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah, of course you can,” Mina said, face still pressed against Tsuyu’s collar as she tried to collect herself.

“It’s about the question I was asked earlier, kero,” Tsuyu said.

Mina took a moment to wrack her brains. Question? Oh, right, about Tsuyu’s crush. Mina had been planning to ask about it, but now the idea of it sat like a cold stone in her stomach, heavy and uncomfortable. Still, if Tsuyu wanted to use what was probably the last of their time here to say it, Mina was willing to listen.

“Mm?”

“I do have someone that I like,” Tsuyu said.

“A girl?” Mina asked, biting her lip. She was glad that Tsuyu wasn’t trying to move her away.

Mina felt Tsuyu nod. “A girl. Ah, you, actually.”

What? Mina blinked. “Me?”

“I didn’t want to say anything in the circle because I didn’t want to put you on the spot, kero. I didn’t know if you even liked girls,” Tsuyu said. “But now that I do, I wanted to say that. Even if you don’t like me back, I wanted to let you know.”

Mina found herself lost for words again. How on earth was she supposed to respond to this? To all of this? Mina pulled herself away, leaning back against her side of the closet. She liked girls, apparently, and here was a girl who liked her, who had kissed her, who Mina had enjoyed kissing back. Tsuyu was a friend, someone Mina knew, and pretty much the opposite of all of Mina’s half-formed fantasy partners. Was that a bad thing? A good thing?

“Tsu... I-”

There was clicking sound, and then the door opened. Kaminari’s face popped into view as light streamed into the small space from around him.

“Yo! Time’s up!” Kaminari said, moving back to give them space to get out. Mina went first, Tsuyu stepping out behind her. Mina saw Kaminari scrutinising the two of them before his expression drew up into a vicious smirk. “Did you two have fun?”

Mina’s flush was out in the open, this time, but she still made herself stand as tall as possible and eye her friend down. “More than you ever will.”

“Ouch,” Kaminari said, with a wince. “You coming back to the game?”

“I think I’m gonna head up to bed,” Mina said, and something made her glance at Tsuyu. The frog girl looked... A little disappointed, maybe? It was hard to tell, and Tsuyu was pretty good at disguising her expressions. “Uh, so about some of the stuff we spoke about...”

Tsuyu looked at her. “I’ll keep it a secret.”

“What? No, I mean, for now I guess?” Mina hadn’t even thought about that. She didn’t think she’d have a problem being out, really, but first she probably needed to figure out exactly what she’d be out as, at least to begin with. “I meant- I don’t really have- I need to think about some stuff for myself first, I think.”

“I understand,” Tsuyu said, and then she smiled.

Oh. Mina thought, watching as Kaminari and Tsuyu headed back to the gathering of their classmates.

So this is what getting the butterflies feels like.

---

Bonus! Kiribaku scene

Eijirou watched Bakugou glaring at the closet. He didn’t say anything - Bakugou needed to consider this for himself, and if he was offered what he saw as cowardly escape or a challenge to his bravery he would tend to push himself into situations he wasn’t actually comfortable with.

If Bakugou himself deemed this as too much, he’d mutter something like ‘this is fucking stupid’ and that was when Eijirou would suggest that they fuck off to his room and watch something on his laptop.

“Let’s get this over with,” Bakugou said instead.

Well. That was it. They were gonna spend the whole seven minutes in this closet together no matter what. Eijirou felt a little thrill run through him at the thought. Bakugou was comfortable enough with him that he didn’t mind being confined to such close quarters for seven whole minutes, and that was amazing.

Eijirou wasn’t expecting anything to happen, really. He knew enough about Bakugou to know that he was a - heh - closet romantic at heart, and he wasn’t likely to spend both of what he knew would be their first kisses in a glorified cupboard.

If he was gonna kiss Eijirou, it’d be somewhere memorable. Like at the top of a ferris wheel at a festival, at the top of a mountain after hiking toether, or- Well. Somewhere up high where they could look out over the world. Bakugou would probably have planned it out meticulously, never one to half-ass anything he cared about. And Eijirou was pretty sure that Bakugou cared about him.

Bakugou walked into the closet and Eijirou practically jumped to follow him.

“Okay, you wanna put a timer on one of our phones?” Eijirou asked.

Bakugou scowled around at the (lack of) space and grunted an affirmation.

“Cool, I’ll set it to go,” Eijirou said, pulling his phone out. “Can you shut the door and I’ll start it from there?”

“Yeah,” Bakugou said, and reached out for the doors as Eijirou’s thumbs hovered over the screen of his phone. Eijirou thought that his friend was strangely subdued.

Eijirou pressed play on the countdown as the door shut, and put his phone back in his pocket. It would let out an alarm when they were done, so he didn’t need to watch it. The darkness was kinda comforting, Eijirou thought. It was warm and it felt like the sharing of a secret, and maybe that’s why this game was played in small, dimly-lit spaces.

“Cozy, huh?” Eijirou chirped after a few moments thinking about it, trying to squint at his friend through the darkness. No reply. “Man, I can’t believe Kaminari would ask me something like that. You know I think maybe he wanted me to forfeit, ha.”

Eijirou waited for Bakugou to scoff, to make some quip at Kaminari’s expense like he usually did at the slightest provocation. But there was nothing. Eijiroi frowned, straining his ears. Was- Was that Bakugou’s breathing? It sounded fast. Too fast.

“Hey man, you good?” Eijirou asked, eyebrow raised and head tilted even if he couldn’t be seen.

“Fuck,” Bakugou said, but his voice was all wrong. Kinda... Wispy? Nothing like Eijirou had ever heard from him before.

“Bakugou?”

“Shit, I, it’s the fucking,” Bakugou said, and he was definitely breathing heavier than normal. “I can’t fucking breathe, fucking hell.”

Eijirou leaned forwards, concern blooming in his gut. He reached out. “You can’t breathe? What’s-”

The moment Eijirou’s hands brushed against the fabric of Bakugou’s t-shirt, Eijirou found himself being slammed backwards into the wall of the closet by a pair of heated hands on his shoulders. Eijirou’s skin had hardened under the contact, but he could smell the smokiness in the air that told him Bakugou had detonated.

Bakugou kept him pinned like that, breaths sounding ragged.

“Bakugou?” Eijirou tried again, lifting one arm.

“Don’t touch me!” Bakugou hissed, and Eijirou dropped both of his hands to press them to the wood either side of him. “Don’t- Fuck, just- Fucking hell!”

Bakugou slid his hands to the sides, palms against the wood, too, and in the brief flashes of light that his quirk produced either side of him, Eijirou caught glimpses of his face. Bakugou’s eyes were clamped shut, his mouth open and teeth bared in a snarl. Something was wrong, somehow.

“Hey,” Eijirou said, trying to make his voice gentle. “Talk to me, man. What’s going on?”

“It’s so fucking stupid,” Bakugou said, voice hitching on the last word.

“Whatever this is isn’t stupid,” Eijirou said. “And I’m here for you if you need anything.”

“I know,” Bakugou said, and he let his head fall forwards onto Eijirou’s chest. “Fuck, just. Stay right there. I need to get over this shit already.”

“Okay.”

Fuck, Eijirou thought, hardened fingers curling into the wall and probably gouging it as he tried to think of what to say. He wanted to pull Bakugou into a hug or something, but Bakugou didn’t want that right now and Eijirou knew better than to try that again until he gave the all-clear.

Bakugou knocked his fist against Eijirou’s shoulder. “Talk, damn it. I need- Distract me.”

“Oh, yeah! Sure,” Eijirou said, mind immediately going blank. “Uhh, so, um, I... Hm. I got absolutely nothing in my brain, bro.”

“Idiot, everyone knows that already,” Bakugou mumbled.

Eijirou laughed. “Nothing but hair and rocks, yeah! I guess I could sing a song or something? But all the songs I know are like, ones you have to really yell along to and someone might think we got stuck in here or s-”

Bakugou shook his head. “Fuck, change the topic.”

“Oh, sorry, uh,” Eijirou had gone blank again. So... What was it that Bakugou hadn’t wanted to- Oh. Oh. Oh fuck. No wonder Bakugou was freaking out so badly, of course, he had fucking claustrophobia. Eijirou was an idiot for forgetting - it was something Bakugou had mentioned before, in an offhand way so as not to make it a big deal, but he’d still mentioned it.

‘Oh yeah, I hate small spaces.’

And what was this if not being a small space?

“So, uh, did I ever tell you about how I got the scar on my eye?” Eijirou asked. Man, he really needed to like, come up with a selection of topics he could talk about for this sort of situation.

“Yeah,” Bakugou said.

“I did? Aw man, I thought I’d managed to go without you hearing how embarrassing it was,” Eijirou said. He heard Bakugou snort, which was a good thing, right? “How about the first time I dyed my hair?”

“Mmhm.”

Eijirou pouted at the top of Bakugou’s head. “Man, I should really learn how to stop exposing my own secrets! Okay, so. Hey, how about something for the future! Pretty sure I haven’t talked about much of that.”

Bakugou grunted.

“Well, I think once our agency gets properly established and things are like, stable, I want a cat,” Eijirou said, finding that his heart was pounding. He’d not actually shared this idea with anyone. Not even Bakugou, and they were planning to rent a place together.

“Yeah?” Bakugou asked.

“Yeah. I love cats, man. I mean, I like dogs, too! They’re great! But it’d be a cat or two for me,” Eijirou said. “I don’t know if I really care about the breed, but I guess I’d actually like something that’s like, kinda pushy and loud? I think those kinda cats have real personality. You can’t ignore them when they want something.”

Bakugou’s hands had stopped popping with tiny explosions, which was good.

“It’d be an indoor cat. I don’t want it to be like, hit by a car or targeted by a villain or anything,” Eijirou said. “As long as you make the time to play with a cat and stuff they don’t actually need to go out - especially if you have more than one and they can play with each other. I was also thinking that maybe I could like, harness train it? Take it on like, walks and stuff.”

Bakugou said something, but it was muffled by Eijirou’s shirt.

“Huh?”

“Names,” Bakugou said, voice rough but sounding stronger. “Got any?”

“Oh, for the cats?” Eijirou pursed his lips. “Not really! I figure I’ll know what to call a cat when I look at it.”

Bakugou made a small humming noise, and Eijirou hoped that he was maybe warming to the idea. Eijirou kind of needed him to be on board, after all.

“Uh, what else... I kinda want, like, a real house? I know the sort of money for that probably won’t start coming in for a while ‘cause of all the security concerns, but like, long-term goals and all that stuff,” Eijirou said. He wanted Bakugou to live there with him, but, well, they weren’t officially together yet and Eijirou didn’t wanna just spring that on him while he was having a panic attack. “It doesn’t have to be a big house, just like, enough. A decent kitchen, space to park outside, maybe a small garden.”

“With flowers?” Bakugou asked.

Huh, that wasn’t something Eijirou had expected Bakugou to ask, and he grinned. “Yeah. We can plant flowers. Roses, maybe. Red ones? Maybe white? Maybe both?”

“Both,” Bakugou said.

Eijirou felt fondness ripple through him, and he opened his mouth to say something that was probably too sappy, but then his pocket began to buzz and Bakugou was jumping out of the closet. He moved almost too fast for Eijirou to follow with his eyes, but he didn’t go too far. Eijirou stepped out of the closet and closed its doors behing him, before making his way over to his best friend.

“Wanna go upstairs and watch something?” Eijirou asked, turning off the alarm still jangling from his phone.

“Fuck yes,” Bakugou said, turning to head towards the stairs. As he was facing away from Eijirou, he couldn’t be totally sure that Bakugou had spoken again as he stomped away, but it kinda sounded like Bakugou had muttered a ‘thank-you’. Kinda like that time at I-Island all the way back in first year, huh?

Eijirou grinned, catching up to Bakugou and throwing an arm over his shoulders.

[ashswritingplace]

Before Soren’s Birth

This is a short story that peceedes the events of a much bigger collaborative project I have been working on. This is about a teenage mage and their relationship with their mother.

"Before Soren's Birth"

Gardenia Jorine held a quill in her hand and a song in her throat as she sat at the center table of the family room. The dark chestnut wood beneath her had been brought back from her honeymoon and fashioned into her favorite piece of furniture, and as she worked, she found herself thinking back to that holiday. She spent most afternoons sketching there, her songs filling an otherwise quiet house.

From the dining room, Lec watched with wide eyes, eager to catch a glimpse of their mother’s drawing but unwilling to interrupt her. Their efforts were slashed, however, when she glanced up from her parchment, and her gaze fell over them. A smile instantly lit her features. “Oh, Lec,” she greeted warmly, “what are you up to?”

Caught and defeated, the teenager crept to the table and sat across from her. “I just wanted to see what you were working on. Am I distracting you?”

Gardenia smiled. “I never mind, asteri,” she assured. She cast a hand over her sketch. “I’m designing a new costume. Do you like it? I was trying to decide between blue fabric and green. What do you think?”

Lec pulled the paper towards them. They  had always been impressed by their mother’s ability: for someone who could only poorly draw buildings or nature, she always had an impressive eye for anatomy. She knew bodies intimately, always drew them with such realistic angles, such perfect curves. If she’d only drawn a face on her mannequin, Lec was sure they would be looking at the exact image of their mother.

The dress she’d drawn was long, stretching all the way to ankles. A frilled design ran the length of the end of the skirt and continued up a deep slit over the left leg. Seashells cascaded down the front, culminating like a wave in the frills of the slit. The top was designed with sequins flowing into two nautilus shells that met in the middle of the chest.

Lec traced the drawing absently, careful not to smudge the drying ink. Their mouth agape, they admired the intricate patterns of the shells, the curve of the sea conveyed by the twists in the skirt’s fabrics. “It’s beautiful,” they breathed. They imagined their mother, lithe, their definition of beauty, wrapped in an ocean of her own making.

Remembering the question they’d been asked, they looked back to Gardenia. Her blue eyes were their own sea, bright and sparkling. She offered an encouraging smile. Lec looked back to the drawing, in their mind painting it in either color. “Green,” they decided, visualizing how the color would complement their mother’s eyes, her earth-toned skin. “The green of the ocean during the Springtime Ides,” they specified. “Sea-like and foamy.”

Gardenia took back the drawing and tried to imagine the color. “I think I like that,” she murmured after a minute, losing herself in her artist’s mind. After a moment, she broke her gaze from her dress and nodded. “It’s settled, then. The dress will be green.” Another smile stretched across her lips. “Thank you for your help.”

Lec beamed. At thirteen, they were used to being ignored and having their opinions undermined, but their mother was different, had always given them a chance to speak. They were more thankful for her than they knew how to express. “Do you have another dance soon, Mother?”

Gardenia chuckled softly. “I doubt I’d be able to move much, now.” Her hands fluttered to the bulge of her belly, large and swollen. “I think I might have to wait until this little one is born.”

Lec scooted their chair closer to their mother’s. They too put a hand on her tummy and hoped to feel a kick. “It must be soon now, right?”

Gardenia nodded. “And we still haven’t chosen a name,” she sighed.

“How did you name me?”

She looked into Lec’s eyes and gently brushed their cheek. “I just looked at you,” she answered simply. “Your father had picked tons of names. Every day he would come home from work with a new name he’d heard at the market or one he’d read in the paper. We had so many possible names for you. Your father wanted to name you Breighton. I was not going to name my child Breighton.”

Lec cupped a hand over their mouth to hide a giggle. “Thank you.”

“So we had all these possible names picked out for you,” she continued, “and then, when they brought you to my arms for the first time, and I got to see the face of my child, I was so lost in the euphoria of it all that I… I forgot every single name! We’d spent hours poring over baby name books, and I couldn’t remember a single one. I must have been distracted by your eyes.”

At that, Lec turned away, pink chasing their cheeks. Their eyes were an abomination, they’d been told, a beautiful hazel ruined by blue-green rings around their pupils. They had been self-conscious about them for as long as they could remember.

Their mother reached for their chin and brought their attention back to her. “Your eyes are the most beautiful gems on this earth,” she said. “Don’t you know that?”

Embarrassment painting their face, Lec mumbled a thank you and urged her to continue her story.

“So they brought you to me, and I gazed into those eyes of yours, and somehow, I just knew. That was my Aleca. My beautiful child.” She grabbed Lec’s hand and held it with her own. “And look at you now. You’ve grown into such a beautiful young adult.”

Lec shrugged awkwardly. They didn’t know that they could believe her words, but they knew she did wholeheartedly. Absently, they ran a hand through their hair. It passed their shoulders now, iron-straight and dark as the wood of their table. They resented that it was nothing like their mother’s tossed auburn curs, their father’s black waves. “I was thinking of shaving half my head, actually,” they admitted sheepishly.

“Were you?” Gardenia pulled back the hair on one side of their head, imaging the new look. “I think that would be very flattering. You have the cheeks for short hair.”

Hope crossed their eyes. “You really think so?” Then, more quietly, they asked, “You… You don’t think Father would hate it?”

At the mention of her husband, a brief stillness came over her. She turned towards the front door, almost expecting him to be there, listening. “I don’t think his opinions of your looks should matter, asteri. If you’d like to cut your hair, then you should cut your hair. Would you like me to help you?”

Lec almost couldn’t believe this. How long had they been planning to tell their mother this? How scared they had been that she’d be upset… Without thinking, they flung their arms around their mother’s neck. “Thank you, Mother,” they breathed. “I’m so glad I have you.” As a sudden panic came over them, they shot away from her and looked at their mother’s stomach. “Oh--!” they cried, embarrassment tainting their voice. “I’m sorry, did I hurt you? Did I hurt the baby? I shouldn't be moving so quickly and thoughtlessly--I’m so sorry!”

Gardenia could only look at her child, an unreadable expression on her face. Then, her laughter filled the room, a shameless sound. “Oh Lec, you worry far too much.” She took their hand. “I’m fine. The baby is fine. We’re okay.”

Relief blanketed their sigh. “Sorry,” they mumbled again. “Um, yes, I would appreciate your help. With my hair, I mean. Thank you.”

She nodded, then turned away, considering. “Well,” she trailed, holding the syllable to pique her child’s interest. “I’ll help on one condition.”

Lec’s brow arched. “What is it, Mother?”

“If I help you with your hair, you must help me with my dress.” She looked over their features, the light that enveloped them. “How’s that?”

Lec would never offer to help themselves, too afraid of getting in the way or messing things up, but their mother was specifically asking for them. How could they feel like a burden then? “You really want me to?”

“Of course,” she responded. “How does tomorrow sound? I’ll go to the market in the morning and gather the fabrics and sequins to get started. When I get back, we can get cutting and sewing.

Lec practically shook in their excitement. “Yes!” they eagerly replied. They cleared their throat and, more quietly, more calmly, said, “Yes, I would love that. Thank you, Mother.”

<><><>

Two weeks of measuring, snipping, and gluing had gone into bringing Gardenia’s drawing to life, and now, after shaping the last pieces of fabric and bathing the accent threads in glitter, the stunning outfit was complete. Gardenia stepped away from the mannequin modeling her dress and admired their work. “Well, Lec,” she said, “I think we’re finally done. What do you think?”

Lec stepped back with their mother and studied the dress. They loved the way green waters whirlpooled into golden shells, how shards of ocean wove their way into crystalline waves of skirt. The dress was breathtaking, even more captivating than their mother’s drawing, and the best part was they had helped make it.

“I love it.” They looked to their mother, practically bouncing on their heels. “It’s so pretty, Mother. I can’t wait to see you wear it.”

She smiled longingly. “I would love to try it on now,” she murmured, a bittersweet sadness tinting her words. Her womb swelled with the weight of her unborn child, due any day. “It’s such a waste to leave it unworn so long, isn’t it?”

Lec shifted. “It will only be for a little while, right? Then you can model it for me and my brother both.”

“Your brother?” Gardenia repeated. Her gaze fell to the mountain of her tummy. “A son… I think I’d like that.”

Lec approached the dress again, fascinated. Their work had created something like this. They ran their hands down the sheer fabric of the front, the frills of the slit. This shade of green would go with their mother’s skin perfectly; they had definitely made the right choice. They could picture their mother dancing in it, moving like air as a slow ballad spurred her bones, a spectacle under the soft lights of the Jolly Spider, a crowd all holding their breaths.

“Lec?” Gardenia’s voice was feathery, faraway. She waited for a moment, gaze fixed on her child’s eyes, before asking, “Do you want to try it on?”

Lec’s jaw dropped instinctively, and they looked away to hide their embarrassment. Disbelief caught in their throat somewhere between shock and joy. “You want me to wear it?” they asked, incredulous. “But you made it for you to wear.”

Gardenia shook her head. “We made it,” she corrected, “and I think it would look beautiful on you.”

Red raced from their collar. Their mother couldn’t have been serious. “I’m not pretty like you,” they mumbled. “I would just make it look bad. You don’t want that, do you?”

She cupped Lec’s cheek, forced their attention. “Listen to me,” she demanded. “You are far prettier than I could hope to be, Lec. Nothing you ever wear could make you look bad. Do you understand me?” She released them, red crawling on her own cheeks. She motioned towards the dress. “Do you want my help getting into it?”

Their mother had to be lying. Lec knew they were a far cry from attractive, but the look in their mother’s eyes, her smile, the expectant arch in her brows as she awaited an answer; maybe she did believe her own words. Lec shrugged shyly. “Yeah,” they mumbled. “I can… I can try it on.”

The dress fit more perfectly than they expected, almost as if it had been measured for them and not their mother. They were taller and thinner than her, but the many layers of fabric enveloped them, making them shapeless, flawless. They looked at themselves in the full-length mirror and scowled. They resented the scarlet hue of their cheeks. Never had they worn something so gorgeous, and there they were ruining it with their half-shaved head, their lanky body, their ugly freckles, their freakish eyes. Surely their mother would see what a mistake this was.

But as they turned to model for her, Gardenia’s smile was unmistakable. The joy she radiated was palpable. “Oh, asteri,” she breathed, coming to their side to get a better look. “You’re so beautiful. Look at you.” She took their hand and held it above their head, urging them to twirl. The skirts spun with them, wrapping around their legs like silk before coming to hang loosely around them once more. “You remind me of myself, in the very first dress I ever made. Do you know I wore it on my first date with your father?”

Somehow, Lec’s blush darkened. “Mother, please,” they begged.

She laughed, and the aria filled their home. “I’m sorry, Lec, I’m just so proud of you.”

Lec paused at that. “Proud?” they repeated. “Why? I’m just wearing your dress, is all.”

Gardenia’s smile slipped for a moment, but it soon returned to her lips. She looked around the room and made her way to the chair in which she designed their dress. “You’re wearing a dress you helped to make,” she explained. “And just look at you. You were right about your hair; it fits you better than long hair ever did. And the way your dimples tuck into your freckles, or how your eyes are shining so jubilantly; Lec, you look happier than you ever have, do you know that? I’m so proud of the progress you’ve made in becoming you.”

An awkward noise of protest sounded from their throat. They hated this attention they were suddenly getting, but a part of them did not want their mother to stop. “I’ve always been me,” they muttered stubbornly. After a pause, they looked back to their mother. “I just can’t believe you’d trust me to wear something like this, and after all the work we put into it. It’s so airy, and elegant, and it makes me want to become a dancer like you, Mother.”

Gardenia secretly beamed. “If that is what would make you happiest,” she replied. “I’d be happy to, um, one day, teach you some of my numbers.”

The hesitation in her voice… Lec raised a brow. They looked over their mother’s face and found a pain in her eyes. “Mother?”

If she’d heard her child’s concern, she didn’t acknowledge it. “Perhaps someday I can help you design your outfits, too. I wonder if, ah, if you might… if you could find a way… your magic? With your dances--if you might… Do you think…?”

Panic spread like fire across Lec’s face. “Mother, what’s wrong?”

Gardenia’s hands clutched the edge of the table. Her fingernails dove into aged wood, scarring it. Her breaths were too shallow, too spaced. She found the wall clock hanging above the doorway to the kitchen. “Asteri,” she breathed, barely a whisper. “Please, get your father.”

<><><>

The cobblestone roads were icy under their bare feet. In their haste, they had forgotten to grab shoes, a coat, or anything else to protect them from early winter’s kiss. Now, running in their mother’s precious dress, they could only think of her pale face, of the breaths that tore against her through, poisonous. What if they couldn’t reach their father in time?

They bolted down the street towards the blacksmith’s shop and found him on his way home. He was tall and dark and intimidating as ever, and they ran right up to him, nearly crashing into his chest.

“Aleca?” His voice was cold. His eyes narrowed, and he stepped away from his frenzied child, obviously annoyed. “What the hell are you wearing?”

“Father,” they begged, ignoring his question, “it’s Mother. Something is wrong with Mother.”

Maybe it was the desperation in their voice.Maybe it was the quiver in their lip, not from the cold. Maybe it was the way they stood, bare and vulnerable, in front of the man who scared them most in the world. But Braunsage Jorine stopped, and the irritation fell from his face. He searched his child’s features, sensing a grave panic there. Then, he took off for his home, for his wife, sprinting. “Is it the baby?”

Lec struggled to keep up in the dress they did not want to ruin. Their father’s footfalls were hard, quick. “I don’t know.”

Their father arrived before they could, and he burst through the door. Lec followed soon after, and before they even saw it, the metallic smell hit them just as they passed the threshold. Their mother, the graceful Gardenia Jorine, hunched over the family room table, eyes fluttering and unfocused, hands twitching, a stream of blood pouring from between her legs.

Braunsage’s toolbox fell from his hands, and several tools clattered loudly against the floor. He rushed to his wife’s side, calling her name. She didn’t respond.

Lec remained frozen by the front door. They had never seen their mother look so spastic, their father look so terrified. The dark puddle stole the attention of the room, and the very sight of it made them nauseous. They remained still, shocked, until their father shoved them out of the way. He took off through the city with his wife in his arms, desperate for anyone that could help them.

Lec was left in a house too quiet, too bloody. Specs of red soiled the ocean of their mother’s dress. Their hands were trembling. They couldn’t understand what had happened. They weren’t ready to lose their mother. They couldn’t.

<><><>

Days later, when their parents did return home, it was to a spotless house. Lec had laboriously scrubbed every drop of blood from the rugs and floorboards, desperate to hide the reminders from their mother. They had neatly folded and put away the dress. They had been unable to remove the dark stains, and the guilt that they had ruined it ate at them. They didn’t know how they would face their mother.

Lec hadn’t dared to go to the hospital. They told themselves it was because they would just get in the way if they were there, but really, they didn’t want to see their mother like she had been in their family room, pale and lifeless, never again.

They sat at the table of the family room, gently rocking. A neighbor had told them their parents would be returning that day, and they didn’t know how to feel. Was their mother better? Was their father angry? Did they hate them for not visiting?

They looked up at the sound of footsteps outside, so nervously, they went to open the door. Their eyes immediately fell to their mother. She was walking with a stick. Her face was flushed, hair wild, eyes unfocused. Her breathing had stabilized, the only clear improvement.

Then, Lec noticed the small person wrapped tightly in their father’s arms.

They searched his face, unasked questions lingering. He wore a face like thunder, an expression unreadable.

Their parents entered the house wordlessly. Braunsage took the new baby upstairs, and Gardenia fell into her chair, the chair that now showed none of the memories from that day. Lec sat across from their mother, eyes frantically searching for some kind of explanation. Finding none, they prompted, “Mother?”

“You have a brother.” Gardenia’s voice was quiet, singsong. She sang her words mirthlessly, hauntingly. Her gaze remained unfocused.

The sound made Lec shiver. “Mother, are you alright?”

She looked to them, though her eyes were vacant. “I should have died,” she whispered. With that, she slunk upstairs, silent.

<><><>

Later, Braunsage would tell Lec that their mother had lost a lot of blood by the time they had gotten to the hospital. That her body had gone into shock, and that the doctors had had to perform emergency surgery to prevent trauma to her unborn child. Her vitals hadn’t gotten better after surgery, and when her child was brought to her, she had rejected him. It was almost as if she had died, said their father in a rare fit of vulnerability. The doctors had mentioned psychosis, but once her vitals improved she was released, and they couldn’t be sure of a diagnosis in that time.

It didn’t make any sense. The doctors didn’t know why her body had rejected the pregnancy nine months in. They didn’t know why her body continued to fight, even after her child was born. They had saved both, but what they sent home was a shattered woman convinced she was unfit to be a mother.

Their mother never did return to the way she had been. She became a phantom in her home, silently creeping about her husband and children. She spoke only when spoken to, and sometimes not even then. She’d get lost in thought, and when Lec did speak to her, they wondered if she heard them at all.

She didn’t pay much attention to her newborn. Lec tried to step in as a parent, but when they went to school, they feared what could happen while they were gone. Their father lost more and more time at work to care for the child, growing more and more irritable by the day. He often took out his frustrations by yelling at his wife, the ghost, who never responded, who never seemed to notice.

Only a couple years after Soren was born, Gardenia Jorine left without a trace, leaving Lec wondering if they would ever see their mother again.

[mattymattymerduck]

Pick-Up Lines Pt 4

Summary:  Androids were thought to be amazing at a lot of things, to do hundreds of things better than any human could; you were sad to find out Connor was no better at taking off a bra than any other person.

[Pt 1] [Pt 2] [Pt 3]

Warnings: SMUT, swearing, weird moments where I try to explain the anatomy of a robot idk ? Also with female!reader 

Word count: 2400

A/N: Oof sorry this took so long guys ! I hope you find it worth the wait, thank you for all the encouragement, ily guys <333 

"I think I'd rather cash in that rain check Y/N."

If it were physically possible for a person to dissolve into a puddle, you would have done it before Connor had even finished speaking. His hands splayed over your stomach and held your back against his chest, all of the contact was making your head whirl. 

In a good way, though.

"Oh," You breathed, mostly to give you a bit more time to think up a response. "a rain check? I don't remember making any of those." You played dumb, hoping it wouldn't deter this confidence Connor had picked up.

Feeling his breath on your cheek made it difficult to focus on what you were saying, but somehow you managed.

"I'd better spark your memory then, don't you think?" Connor honestly had no idea what he was doing, but every reliable source in his database was telling him to do what felt natural, and judging by your increasing heart rate and temperature, he would say it was working.

His hand went up to your chin, using his knuckle to pull your lips closer to his but leaving a tauntingly small space between them. In all of the near death experiences, all of the missions and chases and fights he's been in, he'd never felt so exhilarated; like life was seeping through every fibre of his synthetic body. Is this what being human meant?

"Wait." You pulled back slightly, eyeing him down so intensely he thought his fuses would malfunction. "You licked a lot of blood today, if we kiss am I gonna get a mouthful of copper?"

"My mouth is installed with a saline solution that disinfects regularly, it functions similar to saliva. It's something I can turn on and off, but I do it after every sample." Was it weird to be attracted to him even when he spoke in such a robotic way? You guessed knowing if it was wouldn't stop you from loving it.

"Well shit, better get back to sparking my memory then." Connor spent a second searching for any other hesitation in your face but he came out empty handed. With a little tilt of his head he closed the gap, more than happy to finally kiss that smirk off your lips.

Just like everything else about him, it was perfect. Well, almost. Because you were faced away from him your neck had to twist a little too much to properly connect your lips, so you turned around in his arms and brought your hands up to play with his hair. A quiet sigh left Connor, one you absolutely had to hear again.

You were about to pull back and say something snarky about needing a little more of a reminder but he seemed to read your mind before your lips could even leave his. Connor had so much adrenaline running through him he almost felt shaky, and though he knew there was nothing in his program to allow any of this, he couldn't really care.

His hands went from your sides to your ass, pulling you even harder against him.

"I knew you were an ass man." You had to say it, but you also needed to kiss him more, so when you told him your lips brushed his with every syllable. It felt... intimate to Connor. He liked the thought of sharing the air with you, it made him feel attached to you in some way.

"I think it's just your ass I'm interested in." His voice emulator dropped an octave and it sent something shooting right through you. You could die happy if that voice was responsible.

And then his hands slipped down to your thighs and hauled you up, wrapping your legs around his hips and taking a couple easy steps to your bedroom. You guessed you shouldn't have been surprised with how easy it was for him to carry you, but you were. You kissed him again to prove it.

Connor set you down on the bed, looking like he planned on laying your down and crawling on top of you, but you had an entirely different plan. You grabbed his tie with one hand and placed the other on his shoulder, taking an extra moment to rub your thumb over his collarbone and hear that sigh again. Then you pulled him down and pushed his shoulder back, twisting you two around so his back hit the mattress and you were straddling him.

"Can't let you have all the fun," You taunted when he looked up at you confused.

He would've put up more of a fight before you pushed your hips down and sent his circuitry ablaze. His hands flew up to your hips and his head fell back against your bed, sparing you a jagged breath. Combined with his blinking yellow LED, he was a real sight. You thought it might be the prettiest thing you'd seen, so you took a moment to make sure you'd remember it.

"Why don't you tell me what you want Connor." You whispered it against his skin, leaning down to kiss across his jaw and tangle your fingers in his hair. It looked good when it was this messy.

The way you said his name made his thirium pump hammer, he could only imagine how good it would feel when you were moaning it. He pushed your hips down again and tried to memorize the little hum you spared him. Between that and the warmth of your lips against his jaw, it felt like he was infected with a logic virus; though he was okay with keeping this one.

"You. I just want you." He breathed, sliding his hands up the curve of your back, your sides, your ribs. He wanted to feel all of you, every curve and groove and scar. He wanted to know you, in the way not everyone was so lucky to know you. 

"Then I think we need to lose a couple layers." You smirked, tugging the knot out of his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. "And in case you were confused before, this is how I imagined you being in my bedroom." You ended the sentence by taking off your own shirt and basking in the way Connor was looking at you. Like there was a fire behind his eyes and he was looking to devour something with it. 

Before that point he had been more than happy to let you take control of the situation, knowing he'd enjoy it just as much no matter what position he was in. That was before he realized what you would look like with him on top, whimpering his name, telling him how good he felt, clinging to him like he was everything. 

"Funny, when you said that I imagined something more like this," He didn't even need to preconstruct a way to get you on your back again, you were completely vulnerable to him right then and that might've been what he loved the most about this. Trust.

Before you'd gotten your bearings he was kissing down your neck, grazing your collarbone, making his way to the top of your bra. When he got there he locked eyes with you and smirked - yes, Connor was smirking up at you. Your heart stopped beating for what felt like forever.

"Can this come off?" He pulled one of the straps with his finger, teasing it off your shoulder. A large part of you wished it had come off a long long time ago. 

"Better try it and find out." You sat up enough for him to reach behind you and unhook it, taking the chance to steal another kiss from his soft lips. 

Androids were thought to be amazing at a lot of things, to do hundreds of things better than any human could; you were sad to find out Connor was no better at taking off a bra than any other person. 

After a painfully long minute of trying, he huffed out in frustration and dropped his head onto your shoulder dejectedly, you couldn't help but laugh a little. 

"Hey it's ok, I can't even get it off half the time." You smiled gently, planting a kiss on his forehead when he looked back up at you. He had that feeling again, the one that convinced him his wires were supercharged and made his whole body tingle. 

You reached back and took your bra off easily, tossing it across the room. 

Connor looked over every inch of you, trying to decide what he wanted to do first. Everything he came up with sounded better than the last, so it was a difficult decision. Ultimately he brought his hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing your bottom lip before sliding his fingers through the hair on the back of your head and pulling you in for a hungry kiss. The tongue-tangling, lip-biting kinda kiss you were really waiting for. 

Before you knew it both of your pants were laying on the floor and your legs were wrapped around Connors waist, pulling his hips into yours. 

"I have one more stupid question," You said breathlessly, tugging his hair hard enough to make him moan and also pull his mouth off of your chest. He looked up curiously, his fingers quickly replacing his tongue on your nipple. 

"Hm?" He made it a little hard to focus on anything other than his fingers and the fireworks they sent under your skin.

"Do I need to grab a condom? Can you cum?" Connor planted a couple more kisses on your breasts before coming back up to your eye level to answer. 

"That was more than one question." He teased, smiling at the face you made before trying to reply, but he didn't give you the chance. "If it makes you feel better you can grab one, but I can't get you pregnant and I don't have any STI's as far as my diagnostics can confirm. My program lets me have the same sensations as an orgasm but I guess I don't physically cum, no." 

You didn't really have a response to that so you nodded and used your legs to pull him into you again, tracing your fingers down his stomach before hooking them into the waistband of his underwear. You felt like that was answer enough. 

And he got the message, because he grinned down at you again and tugged your panties off, laying a few kisses on your thighs as he did. He tossed his own underwear on the ground before he came back to hover over you, dragging his fingers lightly over your core just to watch your reaction. 

"Hey, tease me and you'd better expect to get teased back." You threatened, but it fell flat with the way you squirmed under him. 

"Then I can't wait for you to tease me." He remarked, dipping a finger into you and reveling in your moan. He added another and watched as your hips bucked off of the bed, then he played with the speed he pushed them into you. 

"Fuck Connor," His thumb brushed over your clit and your entire body felt like it was ready to erupt. "I'm so close." 

"I want to try on more thing before you cum, is that okay? He pulled his fingers out of you before you nodded, then tugged your leg over his shoulder. His tongue was on your clit for all of ten seconds before the knots in your stomach unraveled and you were calling his name into the otherwise quiet room. Connor's hand held your hips against the mattress while he licked you through your orgasm, turning the sparks shooting through you into explosions. 

He kissed his way back up your body as you caught your breath, hoping his memory storage would never corrupt because he didn't want to forget any of this. You could taste yourself on his lips when he kissed you again. 

Connor had a strange effect on you, even though you were satisfied you weren't. Not until you had made him feel as good as you just did, though, at this point you couldn't be bothered to tease him back.

"I think I'd like to take a rain check on teasing you." You suggested, fingers gliding over his abs. Connor gave you a little sort of chuckle, and you were kind of in awe at the sound. He'd never laughed before, not around you anyways. 

"And what would you rather do?" "I plan on giving you the ride of your life." You weren't even sorry for making the pun, and he knew that. You flipped around one more time, using your hands to pin his shoulders down. With an easy motion you were sinking down on him, enjoying how full he made you feel. Your moans tangled in the room like smoke curling off a fire. 

"You feel so good Connor," You moaned and he needed more, more of you, more of this feeling, just more. His hands rested on your hips and he used them to push you down harder, making you tilt your head back in pleasure. His hold was almost hard enough to bruise, but he was careful not to. 

You raked your nails over his chest as he thrust into you, inviting your second climax to start building. His moans were mixed jumbles of your name and swears he probably picked up from being around Hank so much, but it was the prettiest thing you'd heard in a long time. 

It didn't take much for you to be thrown over the edge again, Connor joining you almost immediately afterwards. You liked the way his lips parted and his brows furrowed when he came, it was something you would've loved to see again sometime. You were too worn out to do what you normally would've - roll off him and lay on the bed - so instead you leaned down for a short kiss and then snuggled into him like that. 

Connor really didn't mind, he was more than happy to wrap his arms around your frame and run his fingers over your back soothingly. 

"You know, I didn't actually think we'd get to this point." You mused quietly, nuzzling your nose into the hair by his ear. He hummed in agreement before voicing the question that was on both of your minds.

"Where do we go from here?"

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[cdelphiki]

Flying through the sky was one of Damian’s favorite things.  It’s something he picked up from Grayson, he supposed, during their time as Batman and Robin.  The man’s love for flying was infectious, and once Damian had felt the rush from jumping off a building without firing his grapple first, he was hooked.  

Even more thrilling was flying through the sky on his own, without Batman breathing down his back.  Damian enjoyed patrolling with his father.  He did, but the man was overbearing and controlling.  Sometimes it was liberating to be trusted to patrol alone.  

Well, okay.  So maybe he wasn’t exactly trusted to patrol alone, but Father hadn’t hacked into his comm to demand he return to the cave yet, so Damian was taking that as permission to continue ahead.  

Besides, Father allowed the others to patrol alone, so why should he be any different?

Right.  Because Father was convinced that Damian would kill people if left unsupervised.

It didn’t matter that Damian swore not to kill.  That he was trying hard.  That he had reigned in his temper.  It didn’t mean anything that he’d not even used excessive force once in months.  All that mattered was that Damian had killed in the past, and Batman could never trust him because of it.

Damian huffed.  Father was impossible.  

He sat down on the edge of the building he had been about to leap off and gazed out over the city.

It was a fairly quiet night, considering the good weather.  Usually beautiful nights had far more crime than the awful, muggy or rainy nights, but Damian wasn’t complaining.  He could actually see the stars tonight, barely through the light pollution, so any chance to sit on a roof and admire the beauty of Gotham at night was one he’d enjoy.  

Of course, though, life decided to mess it all up.  

A terrified shriek drew Damian’s attention to two alleys over.  On instinct, he was on his feet and leaping to the next roof before he’d even registered what he heard.  Within a minute, Damian was landing in the alley next to a woman, who was pressed up against the wall, screaming down at a man lying on the ground.  

And for a second, the scene made no sense.  

The woman was screaming something incoherent and the man was motionless.  Then Damian saw the blood starting the pool.  

Keeping his eye on the hysterical woman as best he could, Damian knelt beside the man and began hunting for the wound.

“Oracle,” he said, tapping his comm and opening a line for the first time that night, “I need an ambulance to the 5400 block of pine.”

“Copy that, Robin,” the woman’s computerized voice sounded in his ear, “And just so you know, Batman is not happy with you.”  

“Tt,” Damian huffed as he began rolling the man to his back, “My father’s happiness is of no-”

“Robin?”

“Shit,” Damian breathed, taking in the large, deep stab wound in the man’s neck, “Carotid Artery has been severed.”  

How did this even happen?  Had the woman stabbed him?  Had he stabbed himself?  Where was the knife?

Damian thought all this as he quickly put his hands against the man’s neck, attempting to stifle the blood flow.  He only have a few minutes, at best.  

There was so much blood.  

His hands shook.  There was so much blood.  Blood everywhere.  It was hot and sticky and everywhere.

In his hair.

On his clothes.

Under his fingernails.

Damian would never be clean again.  

“How did this happen?” Robin demanded, pushing down the discomfort having blood on his hands caused.  His hands were the only thing between this man and death.  

“He- He,” The woman choked, “Oh god!”

Robin growled, putting more pressure on the wound.  His normally green gloves were coated in red, now.  Only small flecks of green still visible.  

His knife slid effortlessly into the servant.  It was likely painless, due to how sharp the blade was.  Well.  Nearly painless.  But even that was too merciful for a man who had dishonored and betrayed the Al Ghul’s.  

Damian had been pitted against this man to test his skills and to execute him for his crimes.  He had nearly lost by all appearances, when his sword fell to the ground, but of course Damian had no fewer than a dozen knives on his person.  

Honestly. He could kill this man with his bare hands.  

“What. Happened,” Damian growled, turning his gaze to the woman, who was now sitting on the ground, whimpering.  

“I don’t know,” she cried, “he just, just did that. I- I don’t even know him.”  

“Robin,” Oracle sounded in his ear, “Medical is four minutes out.”  

He won’t make it.  He’s going to-

The servant looked down at him with a mixture of fear and amusement.  

“Tt,” Damian had said, “I shall take great pleasure in eviscerating you.”

“You are but an infant.  This entire cult is insane, worshipping a three-year-old such as yourself.”  

“I am four,” Damian had corrected, “and you shall perish for your words.”  

The pulse under Damian’s hands was getting weaker.  Slower.  It had been approximately three minutes since his artery was severed.  Chances of survival were next to zero, at this point, and yet, Damian couldn’t remove his hands.  

He’d promised Father.

Promised Grayson.  Promised everyone he’d be a hero.  And heroes saved people.  

Someone was chattering in his ear, but Damian couldn’t focus.  All he wanted to hear were the sirens, but they were still too far in the distance.  

Damian had hesitated.  

The servant was not an expert swordsman.  

He knew enough to defend himself, but he was not an expert like Damian.  He was not an assassin.  

There had been an opening.  The perfect opportunity to thrust his sword right through the man’s heart while his sword was off to the side, carelessly swung too far to defend himself.  

Damian had hesitated.  

And for that he paid dearly.  

The woman was crying again.  

Robin just wanted her to shut up.  She wasn’t the one holding the man’s neck together.  The one kneeling in the thick pool of blood.

It was self defense.  When the servant took advantage of his hesitation.  His weakness.  He knocked Damian’s sword out of his hands.

He had no choice but to pull the knife and lunge forward.  

Swords were a honorable weapon, sword fighting a beautiful art, but they sucked for close combat.  If Damian could stay within an arms reach, the servant would have a difficult time doing damage.  

The servant would have to resort to hacking at Damian, and such moves would be easy to counter.  

Sirens faded into the soundscape, offering a brief glimmer of hope for Damian.  Maybe they’d make it in time.

If only the knife had gone in a few inches to the left, the man would have been fine.  Still in desperate need of medical attention, but not bleeding out this quickly.  

Damian’s knife slid effortlessly into his servant’s neck.

He had learned the anatomy of a human body six months prior.  He knew exactly where to place his knife.  Exactly which spots to target to ensure a quick and simple death.  

Severing the carotid artery was a piece of cake.  

The servant fell to the ground, dragging Damian with him, as he had been on the servant’s back as a means of defense in such close range.  

Someone was talking to Robin.  They were in his face.

He- He should answer.  Say something.  

Gloved hands gripped his shoulders and gently pulled him back, the hard pressure he’d been applying ceased as he was lifted up to his feet.  

Damian looked down at his hands.  There was so much blood.

There was so much blood.  Blood everywhere.

It was sticky.  It was hot.  It wasn’t his.

His hands shook as he stared at the red substance that coated every inch of his hands.  

How had so much gotten on him?

Damian wanted to be sick.  

“I-” Robin said, looking up to meet Batman’s cold gaze.  

Then Damian stiffened, realizing how all this looked to Batman’s perspective.

He came on scene to find his ‘murder baby,’ as Todd so rudely referred to him, lying over the corpse of a man killed by a blade, covered in the man’s blood.

Covered just like when he’d actually-

Damian held back his tears until he was in the bathroom alone.  

When he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, blood smeared across his face.  

All Damian could see in the mirror was the blood of the man he’d killed.  

The man he’d murdered.  

Then Damian was sick.  

“Robin,” Batman growled, a tinge of worry in his voice, “get in the Batmobile.”  

It took an hour to scrub away all the blood.  

An hour and Damian had scrubbed his own skin raw.  And yet, he still wasn’t clean.  

He could still feel the hot sticky mess, still taste the blood in his mouth, smell the vile in his nose.  

Damian was a murderer.  

A monster.

He would never be clean again.

Next thing Damian knew, a cold glass of water was being pressed into his hands.  His now bare hands.  

Cold condensation dripped down his hands as Damian blinked the sluggish haze from his vision.  He was sitting in the cave, on the medical cot, the top half of his uniform missing from his body.  

Finding the straw with his mouth, Damian took a long, slow sip of the cool refreshing water.  It rinsed down the dry raspy feeling from his throat he hadn’t noticed before and helped clear the fog from his brain.  

“Go take a shower,” Father said, not even looking over at Damian from where he was sitting at the Batcomputer.  Pennyworth had given him the water, he now realized.    

“Father, I didn’t-” Damian tried, just to be interrupted.

“Shower. Then we’ll talk.”  

Damian spent an hour in the shower.  Pennyworth had done a decent job removing all trace of blood from his body, but Damian still enjoyed having the cold water wash over his body.  It helped relax him.  Allowed him to think and forget all at the same time.  

It bought him time.  

When he finally emerged from the showers, dressed in the fresh pajamas Pennyworth had prepared, Father was no where to be found.  Wandering around the Manor, Damian found him standing in his Father’s study, looking out over the gardens.  

“Father,” Damian said curtly as he entered the room.  He had practiced his defense half a dozen times.  He was ready to out argue Father, if necessary, to prove his innocence.  

“Come here, son,” he said tiredly, motioning with his hand for Damian to join him by the window.  

Damian obeyed wordlessly, yet cautiously.  Never before had Father started a lecture about morals with beckoning Damian to stand next to him and calling him ‘son.’  Perhaps this was Father’s way of softening the blow.  

Was… was father sending him back?  Kicking him out?  Had Damian just ‘crossed the line,’ in Father’s eyes?  

When Damian stopped at his fathers side, he looked out over the Manor grounds and saw what his Father had been observing.

Thousands of lightning bugs flitted across the grounds and into the woods, their asynchronous lights creating a show for anyone up at this hour.

“When I was a child,” Father began, placing a hand on Damian’s shoulder, “my father and I would catch fireflies in a jar and then tell stories by their light for hours.”

Damian scrunched his eyebrows as he continued to observe the gardens.

“Those carefree moments are something I cherish,” he continued, “There’s something relaxing about thinking back to happy childhood memories, something humanizing about remembering better times.”  

Damian turned his head to look up at his father, his confusion freely displayed on his face.  “Father, what does-”

Father squeezed his shoulder, gently, to hush him, then carried on, “I’ve failed to provide you with memories like that, Damian.”

“I’ve only been living here for two years,” Damian tried.

Father shook his head and knelt down before Damian, turning the boy so they were facing each other fully.  “Son,” he said, placing both hands on his shoulders, “I am sorry for what you had to see tonight.  For what you had to experience.  I wish we could save everyone, but we can’t.  I’m proud of you for trying.”  

Damian shook his head, willing the tears he felt stinging to be released to stay in their ducts.  He was not a child.  He would not cry over something as trivial as this.  

“You did well, Robin.  You should be proud, too.”  

“No,” Damian whispered, quickly losing the fight with his tears, “You don’t understand.”  

Bruce frowned and brushed away the nonexistent dust from Damian’s shoulder.  “What don’t I understand?”

“I-” Damian rasped, looking down at his hands. “I’ve killed people.  Exactly like that.  With- With these-”

Damian yelped when he felt himself be yanked suddenly into a bone crushing hug, then lost the battle entirely as sobs wracked his body.  “I thought,” he hiccuped into his father’s chest, “Maybe if I could save people, if I was Robin, it’d go away.  But- but my hands.  And-”

“Shh,” Father soothed, rubbing at Damian’s back as he rocked his son slightly, “Hush, son.”

“How can you be proud of me when I’m a murderer?” Damian asked, his throat thick as he struggled to swallow the hot, thick saliva crying had created.  “I’m a monster,” he whispered.  

“You,” Bruce said forcefully, halting his rocking to squeeze Damian into a tighter hug, “are my son.  I will always be proud of my son.”

Damian shook his head again. “I don’t deserve-”

Father cut him off with a sharp, “Damian Thomas Wayne, you deserve so much more than what I have to give you.  Anything you did with the league, and as a result of their brainwashing, is on the conscious of Ra’s and Talia Al Ghul.  Not yours.  Do you hear me?”

“But,” Damian said, pulling away from his father’s grasp, “I’ve done so much.”  Damian held his hands back out and looked down at them.  He could still see the blood.  The blood of every victim of his.  Of every death he was responsible for.  All 42 of them.  43, now.  

“Damian,” he said again, gently, taking Damian’s hands in his own, “You are such a good person, so kind and gentle.  I don’t believe for a second you are responsible for what you were forced to do while with the League.  I only hope you can come to the same realization one day.”  

Father pulled Damian’s hands up to his face and kissed each one softly before letting go and standing to his feet.  

He turned to face the gardens once more, and Damian stayed still, staring down at his hands.

They felt a bit cleaner, now.  

Link to ao3: https://archiveofourown. org/works/16128005

[redslilstories]

Little Pieces of You

Author: lilyme (aka. redslilstories aka. me ;)) Summary: Set in New York. Was it wise to be clinging to the past, to memories of an old them? Or should it all have been abandoned long ago? Pairing: Callie/Arizona Rating: PG Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this story, nor do I own any rights to the television show "Grey's Anatomy". They were created by Shonda Rhimes and belong to her and the ABC network. No copyright infringement intended!All mistakes are mine.

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day to all Calzona shippers!

There were things that she wasn't very good at.

And didn't like doing very much.

Organizing her closets and dressers was surprisingly such a thing.

She found that she sucked at keeping everything in its intended place, with shirts and pants roaming out to find themselves new spots to live in.

This happened whenever she had too much space to go around. Not because her closets were so huge they could fit an entire apartment block. But because she was using the room that was meant for two with the clothes of only one person.

Too much empty space that made clothes wander in desperate need for companionship, trying to compensate a loss.

But her clothes didn't have to suffer much longer. And today Callie had some much loathed reorganizing to do. For a very good reason.

"Sorry it's such a mess in here," she said to the approaching footsteps behind her, as she stood on the tips of her toes, rearranging her sweaters on the topmost shelf of her closet. "I didn't find the time to get everything ready".

"Come on, it's okay," the other woman said with an audible chuckle in her voice, as she carried a box into the bedroom. She found it endearing how anxious Callie could become over something like this. On any given day, the brunette's home probably looked way tidier than your average person's.

And even though she currently spent way more time than usual in her research lab at Heartmond Hospital in New York to get the finishing touches on her exoskeleton project, which was bound to revolutionize the world of medicine, her home in no way resembled a place of angst-inducing disorder and chaos.

And that could also be said about her wardrobe.

"So, um, I've got socks and underwear in this one. At least the box says so," the woman laughed as she placed said item on the ground. She was not always a hundred per cent certain which items had made their way into which box in the last steps of packing.

After Callie had asked her after four months of dating if she wanted to move in with her, she had not hesitated for one second.

There were so many advantages. Callie's apartment had more space than the one she herself had been able to find upon moving to New York a year ago. It was much closer to both their work places. And moving in together meant saving a lot of money.

But these were only the cold, economic facts.

What was even better was the prospect of them living together.

Again.

After all these years.

There certainly were jitters to be had about this step, considering their past.

But this was a new them. And this new them definitely deserved a new start into a home life together.

"Mm, sounds enticing," Callie laughed in return, referring to parts of the presumed content of the box.

She was so excited to be sharing her home with Arizona again. As was Sofia, who had been very open their rekindling relationship from the start and couldn't wait for them all to be living together again.

For now this apartment was perfect for the three of them. Barring the fact that they could hardly fit any of Arizona's furniture, so several things had to go into storage for the time being.

At some point they would probably start looking for a bigger place to accommodate them all, but that was not a priority right now.

"So, you said second drawer from top, right?" the blonde tried to recall as to where Callie had told her to stow her undergarments and went ahead to open said drawer.

Callie, temporarily distracted by her own task, only noticed with delay that Arizona did not remember all that correctly. And was about to open...

"Oh, no, wait, not that one," Callie hurried over with a movement of her hand that was to say Arizona should stop what she was doing.

But it was already too late.

And Arizona came face to face with... nothing much suspicious, really.

It was Callie's sock drawer.

"Hmm, nothing I haven't seen before," the blonde smirked, confused by the adorably abashed redness suddenly grazing Callie's features.

She turned her attention back the drawer, and on second glance noticed a black velvety box, about eight by ten inches sitting next to the assortment of socks on the right side of the drawer.

"It is about this?" she questioned. "If it's toys, you really don't have to worry," she shrugged seductively at her lover. "We're all humans. And it's not like we didn't use some before. Don't see why we shouldn't again sometime."

Callie was temporarily baffled by Arizona's alluring suggestion, and guffawed in amusement. "No, that... they're actually over there," she roughly pointed towards the nightstand, which was also equipped with several drawers.

"Valuable information," Arizona nodded in delight, while her hand subconsciously traced the smooth the surface of the mysterious box.

She had to admit... she was pretty curious to get to know more about the content. Solely due to Callie's peculiar reaction. But she wasn't going to push it. They each deserved their secrets – even living together, of course.

She was about to shut the drawer when Callie suddenly spoke. "Okay, you know what? Go ahead. Open it," she smiled cautiously, not having missed the woman's interest in this.

It was not something she was ashamed of or tried to hide. It just was something... she wasn't sure how Arizona would react to.

Chances were she would eventually see it anyway, and it was something... really, really not bad.

So why not do it now? Couldn't be weirder now than it would be at a later point, right?

"You sure?" Arizona wondered, wanting to reinforce Callie's permission.

"Yeah!" Callie nodded and sat on the bed to wait.

Arizona lifted the box from its hiding spot with tender hands, her curiosity piqued as she sat next to the brunette.

After a few moments of deliberation she removed the lid... and found herself perplex.

Because she caught sight of memorabilia of a time long years ago. And personal items she had almost forgotten even existed.

She found concert tickets from a Taylor Swift concert in 2010. The first concert she and Callie had went to together. It was their guilty pleasure. One they would certainly not admit to everyone.

She found one of the several scrap books she had made when she was a teen. This one being from the period she referred to as her punk rock era. It had little drawings, magazine clippings from singers and other celebrities she had fancied back then and even some poems the blonde had written. But most important of all it held pictures of her with unusually heavy eyeliner, dark t-shirts and ripped jeans. Once Callie had found this book, she had been unable to put it down. Mesmerized by Arizona's cuteness seeping through despite the appearance. And beyond fascinated by this unique insight into the mind of young Arizona. So fascinated that the blonde had not thought long about giving this book to Callie.

She found this really thick pair of knitted socks, which sported the most hideous green, gray, blue and red striped pattern ever. She had given it to Callie a few months into their relationship as a well-meant joke. Callie was the one with the ice cold feet in their relationship, and Arizona had often found herself fighting the urge to complain about icy toes against her calves whenever her lover held her as they slept. A part of her had feared that Callie would be insulted by this, but quite the contrary. She had worn them with joy, and even after the fabric had been ragged out from being worn God knows how many times, still had most obviously kept them.

She found a little jewelry box, which she didn't need to open to know that among other things it probably contained a heart necklace. A lot of people had laughed at them for wearing this matching items, but for them it had been their mutual show of love, belonging and care, and everyone laughing about it was just a fool who had never experienced this feeling.

And she found – to her utmost astonishment – tucked away at the bottom of the box – one of her old scrub caps. One in pastel tones that actually had butterflies on it. She had stopped wearing it shortly after coming to Seattle Grace, switching to a light pink one with little flowers instead. She thought she had thrown this old cap out. Actually remembered having put it on a pile Callie had prepared for the charity bin. But as it seemed now, the brunette had deemed it too valuable to be thrown out.

She sat with this box of 'her' in her lap. Of items that were not really the core of her being. Far from. But of pieces of her that apparently once had meant the world to someone. To Callie.

And maybe they still did.

"You kept all this," she stated as her fingers followed the patterns of her scrub cap.

And Callie sat beside her, worrying. Arizona didn't show any emotions that indicated how she thought about this... this... nostalgia? This desperate living in the past?

"I... I know... most of this didn't mean anything to you. The cap certainly didn't. Not like other surgeons who have their lucky caps. But I wanted to keep it. Because I saw you in it the day after the bathroom kiss. You were coming out of surgery. And you looked so proud and happy. I'll never forget that day. I think I fell in love with you right then."

This had actually been the first day she had seen her around the hospital at all. And while the cap itself was plain and unspectacular, it would forever remind her of the days she had met and gotten to know the blonde. Especially of the fact that she was not just an extraordinary human being, who went out of her way to dispel a total stranger's sorrow with a kiss – but also one of the most amazing doctors she had ever met.

Over the years items had been added, and they all meant no less to Callie.

But maybe more than they should have. Especially after they had broken up – for seemingly the final time.

And they probably meant more to her than Arizona was comfortable with.

"It's pathetic, I know," she cringed, and almost wished she had let Arizona assume the box contained adult toys for the time being.

"What? No!" Arizona was brought out of her own musings by Callie's evaluation and immediately calmed her with a vehement shake of her head. "No," she turned her body towards Callie, "it's really not. I find it sweet that you still have this. After all this time".

"So, you're not freaking out?" Callie questioned, somewhat relieved. She knew that to other people it probably seemed strange. And looked like a sign of being unable to let go.

Penny had certainly thought so when she had stumbled across the box while putting their clean underwear away.

Callie had to admit that it was a stupid place to stow something you didn't want your lover to find.

But maybe her subconsciousness didn't plan on it not being found by Penny. And maybe her reasoning about keeping it so that Sofia could have all this later – just like a pair of Arizona's wheely sneaks that sat in the back of her shoe drawer, somehow having made its way into her possession after the divorce – was really little more than easy to see through fib.

It had made Penny realize that Arizona still was much more to Callie than just the mother of her child.

It certainly had been a factor in their mutual decision to split up. And gave Callie the opportunity to try a new start with the woman still holding her heart.

The woman in question looked at her with a smirk that was tucked halfway between her teeth. Just like Callie remembered it when the blonde had something on her mind she wanted to share but also knew could mean trouble.

"What...?" Callie lured in amusement and tickled her fingers along the side of Arizona's thigh.

"I... uh, I might have kept a thing or two as well," she blushed.

"You did?" Callie queried surprised. Surprised that Arizona was just as much a nostalgic fool as she was.

"I still have the necklace too... And," the blonde began, her eyes coyly looking at the ceiling, "a couple of CDs we once made back then when people still had CD players," she laughed. They contained songs they had loved dancing to throughout the early years of their relationship. A wild mix of oldies and songs that had been brand new back then. They had used to dance for hours, only to end up in a heap of exhaustion and happiness.

"I think I still have a player somewhere," Callie wiggled her eyebrows, certainly not unhappy about the prospect of a little dance party. "What else?"

"Your kiddie Spanish book," she smiled lovingly. It was a book Callie – growing up bilingual – had learned to read with when she was little. At one point Callie had started teaching Arizona some Spanish, using this book among other things. And while it probably wasn't the best material to teach a foreign language to an adult, Arizona loved this book. It reminded her of lots of cozy hours snuggled together on the couch and studying. And it contained some doodles young Callie had made here and there of animals, flowers, people and whatever came to mind. "And, um, I have something else, and I hope you won't hate me for it," said the blonde and got up to leave the room, presumably to fetch the item.

Callie waited, wondering what it could possibly be.

She could hear rumbling... followed after a while by a bit of grumbling as apparently Arizona had trouble finding what she was looking for.

Then she heard a box or two crashing to the floor and became worried. "You okay?"

"Yup," Arizona announced and a few moments later emerged with a box that read...

"'Towels'?" Callie wondered.

"Hm? Uh, no," Arizona negated. "This is just the last box I packed, and it has some stuff in it I used till the last day like...," she opened the box and soon brought forth...

"Is that my sweater?!" The brunette exclaimed incredulously.

It was a garment so plain and simple. A normal woolen gray sweater. But it held so many memories for Arizona. She had loved cuddling with Callie wearing it and had during their time together sometimes worn it herself. And even during the difficult time of their divorce, Arizona's heart had wanted it. So she had snuck it out. And had frequently worn it herself since then. The sweater now being even more withered and having lost some amount of its original color. It was strange and nonsensical, but even after years of Callie wearing it last, Arizona found it still somehow smelled of her. And it always comforted her when she was having a bad day.

Arizona bit her lip, almost feeling she had to apologize. For taking this from Callie without asking.

At least the brunette didn't seem happy.

Long Moments later Callie's face twitched. "I knew I had seen it on you during that one video chat."

"Sorry?" Arizona said, hoping she could make amends somehow.

"Don't be," Callie returned and pulled Arizona into her lap. "It looks good on you".

"I know," the blonde returned cheekily as she put her arms around Callie. "So, um," she giggled as her lover used the opportune opportunity to kiss a long her neck. "Does it go on my pile or yours?"

"Sooner or later, it'll end up where it wants to anyway."

"True".

END

[1000-directions]

annual writing self-evaluation

All answers should be about works published in 2018.

tagged by: N O B O D Y, i’m the one getting the party started this year 😎i’m going to tag every writer i follow, so please feel free to fill this out for yourself without feeling obligated to read my answers if you’re not into it!

i. Optional if applicable: link to last year’s self evaluation:

2017!

1. List of works published this year (in the order that they were posted):

tonight make me unstoppable

turn to dust or to gold

spring cleaning

since we’re alone

this modern love

i still remember

the gentlest feeling

think i’m gonna win this time

nothing but dreams inside

sending postcards to myself

dust to dust

lullaby for the new world order

gold dust in our hands

#ship 1d with superheroes 2k18

cloud on my tongue

sing it one last time

(unpublished winterhawk fic that will be arriving next weekend)

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

hmmmm. i mean, if you count the luckyverse as a whole as one work, then obviously that. i’ve put a lot of time and thought into developing this relationship and finding ways to progress it over the course of several years and trying to justify why we are examining their relationship at the specific times that the stories take place. it’s the hardest i’ve worked on anything, it’s the most time i’ve spent on one idea, it’s the longest thing i’ve ever created, it’s the most i’ve ever enjoyed writing, and it’s gotten the most satisfying response. it’s not the most popular thing i’ve ever done, and i know there will be fewer and fewer people showing up for each successive part, but the people who support this have been just...the most generous and wonderful, and creating this thing has been such a rewarding experience for me.

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

nope, this year i’m pretty proud of everything 🙃

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

from this modern love:

“Buck,” Louis says, and he’s looking at Bucky so openly, gazing at him so adoringly, and his fingertips are so gentle against Bucky’s face. He isn’t holding anything back, and it’s one of those moments where Bucky almost steps out of his own head and sees himself from a distance, and he has to tell himself, this is your life, you get to have this now.

“It was a nice day,” Bucky says instead. “I’m really glad I got to be a part of it.”

“You’re going to be a part of everything from now on,” Louis says, tracing the arch of Bucky’s eyebrow with his thumb. “Shit, I can’t stop touching you.”

“Don’t stop touching me,” Bucky says. His hands are on Louis’ hips, anchoring him in place, and they feel hot where they meet Louis’ clothing. His right palm is sweating, and his left is crackling with the anticipation.

There are two categories of energy. There’s kinetic energy, the energy of motion. The energy of Bucky reaching through space and time against all the odds to meet this man, to run after him down the street, to touch his body and kiss his sacred mouth.

And the other category is potential energy, the energy that is stored up and kept secure for the future when you’re ready for it. The energy of possibility, the energy that hasn’t done anything yet but promises you maybe, maybe, maybe.

5. Share or describe a favorite comment you received:

i got a lot of comments along the lines of ‘i didn’t expect this to work, but it did,’ which always brings me joy. i reread @queerlyalex‘s comment on nothing but dreams inside whenever i’m feeling :/ about myself and my writing. all seven comments on cloud on my tongue are so precious to me because i loved writing that one so, so much, it was my love letter to lucky and how far they’ve come. i really just treasure the people who are still hanging in there and reading about my precious weirdos and really picking up on all the things i was trying to do with that story.

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

any time i have to write a scene with more than two characters is a struggle. the absolute worst ones this year were freddie’s birthday party and bucky and louis’ dinner party. just the worst. more than two characters is too many to keep track of.

7. A scene or character that you wrote that surprised you:

genuinely everything. at the end of last year, i was planning to write one (1) lucky fic for rarepair fest, and i was planning to write trans spiderlou, and that was it. and instead, this turned in the year of lucky, the #ship 1d with superheroes 2k18 that i was not expecting.

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

last year, i was very focused on being a more minimalist writer, on ignoring plot and just writing the parts that i found interesting, just quick projects in one sitting for as long as they held my interest. this year, i spent more time stretching out inside a scene, just settling in and letting it take as long as it needed to take. i learned how to sustain my own interest in an idea for longer than a few hours. it used to be that if i didn’t finish something in one sitting, i didn’t finish it at all. meanwhile, i can’t even tell you how many sittings i’ve spent on lucky over the last year, and i’m still excited about it and invested in it. i wouldn’t say that i appreciate the concept of plot much more than i used to -- i’m still much more focused on small moments of character interaction. but i’ve learned to embrace the concept of outlining in order to make sure i cover everything i want to cover, and i’m not so afraid of the passage of time anymore.

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

this is my answer from last year:

i would like to try some new pairings. this is weird, but i’ve never really written a true nouis story? it feels like i should have, but i haven’t, and that’s something i wouldn’t mind tackling next year. also, when i first started out, i didn’t feel comfortable leaving canon behind because i worried that i didn’t have a strong enough grip on my characters yet, and i feared that if i started writing AUs or whatever, my characters would become unrecognizable. but i’d like to keep venturing out and trying new worlds and tropes. i want to write more trans characters. i’d like to write an ace fic. i’d like to bring my eye to things i haven’t written before and see what happens.

things i did this year: tried new pairings, wrote a true nouis story, wrote AUs, wrote more trans characters. and although it’s not explicitly identified in the story, bucky is demi in luckyverse, so i guess you could say i wrote an ace fic. so...i’m pretty pleased with all that.

‘i’d like to bring my eye to things i haven’t written before and see what happens’ is always going to be my writing mantra, i think. this year was very heavily focused on lucky, so i think i’d like to write more diversely next year, focusing on other stuff as well. i’d like to write more marvel stories, and i’d like to play around with winterhawk more and maybe find my own preferred niche inside that particular pairing. i just want to keep pushing myself and trying new things.

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

i will say that @dearmrsawyer really stepped up and became my absolute mvp this year. jamila is the best for pure brainstorming, for just coming up with an idle idea and running with it until it’s something huge and important and vital to whatever project i’m working on. there is very little i wrote this year that she didn’t have a hand in to some extent. @nightwideopen was absolutely lucky’s #1 cheerleader, which means so much to me. @queerlyalex is always the best in terms of pure positivity and encouragement, about writing, about not writing, about life, about everything. @fleetwooded has been such a perfect beta for me, someone i absolutely trust to tell me the truth about whether or not something works, someone who is so thoughtful with comments and ideas, someone whose eye i 100% trust. @sarcathlon made me art!!!! holy shit, i’m never going to be over it, genuinely the nicest and most supportive compliment ever. and of course, bucky barnes has my entire heart and i’m never gonna stop yelling about how he is a good boy trying his best.

11. Anything in your real life show up in your writing this year:

uh, yes. lol. all of bucky’s anatomical awareness is a result of my stupid useless anatomy degree. at least i finally got to use it for something!! a lot of bucky’s anxiety and panic is based on my own. bucky’s hatred and fear of grocery stores is literally me.

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

i’m always going to say to write the stories that you want to write, and fuck all the writing rules that tell you there’s a specific way to tell a story. tell it your way. have fun. writing is pointless if you don’t genuinely enjoy it, because we aren’t getting paid for this, and most of us aren’t going to write things that are wildly popular, so the joy has to come from the creation of it. if you expect the joy to come entirely from other people’s responses to your work, you’re going to be disappointed. if you love what you write, then you are guaranteed that at least one person is going to love what you wrote. that’s all i got.

13. Any new projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

we’ve got two (or three 😩) more parts of the luckyverse in the wings, and i want to write my zayn character study. everything else is up for grabs.

14. Tag three writers/artists whose answers you’d like to read:

listen, i’m tagging e v e r y o n e who i think wrote something this year because i wanna get this thing going again. so please, if i accidentally skipped you, or if you are someone i don’t follow who is reading this and you want to do it, please feel free, just say i tagged you.

@magicalrocketships @veryniceandgood @bigbrotherlouis @secretspeller @ferryboatpeak @zaptains @jiksax @mildlymaddy @dearmrsawyer @saysthemagpie @polaroidgirlfriend @clarz @imlouisaf @queerlyalex @nothanksweregood @musingsofmaura @niallspringsteen @foliealou @tintedglasses @sarcathlon @nocontrolforlouis @fleetwooded @nightwideopen @captn-sara-holmes @flawedamythyst @akai-coat @claraxbarton @kangofu-cb

[kumkaniudaku]

She Said ___?

Warnings: Smut (18 +)

Ah, date night, the cornerstone of healthy relationships. 

For you and Chadwick, date nights came in random spurts. For the first three six weeks of your relationship, Saturday’s were set aside for both of you to turn off your devices and focus on each other. No distractions and no extra people; only the comfort of each other’s company. Unfortunately, the routine couldn’t continue this way forever.

The last month and a half was clouded with irregular work schedules, constant traveling and spotty physical interaction. If Chadwick wasn’t on a plane to promote or film, you were in another WNBA city to assist your team. In six weeks, you had only seen Chadwick three times, each of them when he was dozing from the activities of the day.

After a week of what-ifs, Saturday’s date night was set in stone. Despite hopping on a red-eye from Minnesota to Los Angeles and arriving to your condo only four hours before your next scheduled work day, the excitement of seeing your man carried you through the end of the week.

Standing in the kitchen of your condo, that energy twisted your wrist in time with with your hips to “Caught Up in the Rapture” by Anita Baker as you stirred the muffin mixture in front of you.

“I love you here by me, baby. You let my love fly free. I want you in my life for all time. Damn, Anita, we sound good,” you complimented at the end of the bridge. Anita’s sultry voice and the infectious melody of the song set the perfect mood for a quiet evening dinner.

Depositing the homemade mixture into a muffin pan, you continued to sing as visions of Chadwick ran circles in your mind. You thought of what he smelled like the last time you saw him and how his lips felt against your cheeks before he left. His gapped smile made you grin as if he were there for you to see him person. You missed him in a way that you didn’t think was possible.

When you caught a glimpse of your attire in the full length mirror leading to the living room, you did a pose to thoroughly examine yourself. The black, strapless “Luciana” dress was simple but form fitting, contouring your body in all the right places. Your feet remained bare to uphold the integrity of your white rugs and to show off your fresh pedicure. Chadwick’s favorite hairstyle, the braidout he saw you in when he crashed your housewarming party in Atlanta, sat just above your shoulders from a fresh wash and trim. If he didn’t think you were fine, he had to have gone blind in his time away.

You split your time between setting up the living room and watching the food in the kitchen as you waited for the doorbell to ring. Instead, the spare key jingling in the lock alerted you to a visitor. Chadwick shrugged his jacket off of his shoulders in record time before carefully placing the garment on the coat rack.

“Sunshine! Where you at?”

“In the kitchen, dear,” you cooed, rolling your eyes at the use of one of your many pet names.

Heavy feet that you prayed were free of shoes beat against the floor of your home until his tall frame rounded the corner into the open space. A split second exchange of wide smiles led to an all out rush to scoop you into his arms. The moment his body connected with yours, invisible sparks communicated the sheer excitement between you two. Your fingers danced in his coiled mane as you held his head close your chest before dropping your head to signal for a kiss. He spun you in a slow circle, pressing his lips against yours in rapid pecks.

“I missed you so much,” he murmured against your mouth as he gently placed you on the ground. His forehead pressed against yours to get a good look at your face. His arms crossed at the wrist around your waist, barely containing the urge to run his palms against the curve of your behind. “How’s my girl? You look good.”

“Better now that you’re here.” Your face screwed as you groaned, causing Chadwick to raise his eyebrows in curiosity. “Oh my God, that was so corny. Look at what you’re doing to me.”

“No, don’t blame me! You’ve been a closet cornball all this time, just waiting for someone to bring it out of you. Face it, you’ve fallen in love with the country boy you swore you didn’t want to be friends with.”

His cheeky grin made you roll your eyes in response though the smile on your face made your true feelings clear. He was right. “Oh shut up. You ready to eat?”

“Depends on what’s on the menu,” He flirted, lightly tapping your butt as you walked away. “You and this dress are about to introduce us to parenthood in about nine months.”

“Then you can be a daddy and a daddy.” Your stress on the second ‘daddy’ made his eyebrow quirk as he took a seat at the table. “So, how was filming? Tell me all about it.”

“There isn’t much to say about it, baby. Five AM call times, craft services, you know, the usual. I need a hot shower and a chest to lay on so I can actually get a good night’s rest. One day, I’m gonna take you with me.”

“I keep telling you I can’t just leave my job to follow you around the world. That’s a privilege reserved for wives, remember?”

“Yeah but, it’s worth a try.”

You planted a kiss on his puckered lips while sliding his plate in front of him. The steam wafting from the fresh, stuffed salmon and vegetables on the dish set off a series of quiet rumbles in his abdomen to remind him of what he missed during his absence. His mostly vegan diet would have to take a backseat tonight. Your plate was the next to hit the glass surface of your small dining table before the blessing was presented and dinner could officially commence.

Conversation flowed effortlessly, moving from work to family, a trace amount of celebrity gossip and back to work with no issues. Chadwick listened with a smile as you recounted office spats and a grueling flight schedule that introduced you to the flight attendant from hell.

“Then, she acted like she didn’t see my light on and walked right past me three times. You know I try to be nice-”

“Do you,” he questioned with his hand on his chest and an incredulous look on his face. 

“I said try,” you laughed along with Chadwick. “But, she was really burnin’ my biscuits!”

He nearly choked on his water to stifle his laugh, “Baby, what does that mean?”

“Burnin’ my biscuits? You know...she was making me upset. C’mon, you never heard that one?”

“Never. And I’m supposed to be the country one!”

“Anyway, that’s been my week so far. People getting on my last damn nerve and counting the days until you could come back to me.”

“Well,” he started, grabbing your left hand and running the pad of his thumb over your bare ring finger. “I’m here now. We can pick up where we left off.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks as you turned your head to hide your smile. Had you stared any longer, eating dinner would have surely turned into something much more adult against the dining room table.

“You gon’ help me wash the dishes? The faster we get this done, the quicker we can get to the fun stuff.”

“I like where this is headed. What kind of fun stuff,” he questioned while standing up to follow you into the kitchen. He remained hot on your heels until his chest was pressed against your back and trapping you against the sink. His fingers traced circles from the top of your thighs until they clasped across your stomach.

“Season three of Grey’s of course!” You peeked over your shoulder to find him rolling his eyes. “Oh, so, now you don’t wanna watch Grey’s Anatomy?”

“I was hoping to look at your anatomy but, we can binge if you want. Just let me go grab something from up front.”

“Baby,” you whined as he placed a kiss on your bare shoulder before starting his journey to the front door. “We agreed on no phones during our private time.”

“I’m just texting my mama to tell her I’m back and then I’m all yours, okay?”

You grumbled an okay, not able to to offer a rebuttal. What kind of person would you be to complain about him texting his mother?

While you cleaned the kitchen, Chadwick fought to get his heartbeat under control. His fingers trembled as he held the Cartier box in his hand, wondering if now was the right moment. He spent the better part of four weeks battling his inner self over the decision to customize the jewelry in the expensive package and present it to you. He was sure of his feelings, and he felt like he was sure of yours. Still, nothing could prepare him for whatever reaction awaited him.

“Hey, baby. H-how do feel about marriage,” he called from his spot near the coat rack.

You cocked your head back at the abrupt nature of what you assumed was a random question.

“To you or in general?”

“Start with in general.”

Chadwick took a deep breath and stuffed the box into the back pocket of his dark wash denim before returning to the kitchen. Taking one look at your brown skin absorbing the light of the room was all he needed to go through with his plan.

“I mean, marriage is beautiful. If you love someone that much, why wouldn’t you spend the rest of your life with them? What is life if you don’t have someone to share it with, ya know? At least that’s how I look at it.”

“Do you see yourself being married?”

You took a moment to smile at the fairytale you created from the moment you could understand the basic concept of love. “Yeah...I do. One day, I guess. At least I hope. Time seems like it’s winding down for me though.”

Hearing the words leave their private space in your brain made your muscles tense in response. You expected to be married well before this point in your life. Your career was set in stone, dating was rarely an issue and, yet, your ring finger was still empty. The comments from nosey aunts and family friends only created a complex and made you wonder if you were marriage material. Were you too independent for a man to find you suitable? Why were you worried about a man’s approval in the first place? You were an amazing woman without the title of wife...right? All of these questions and more ran in a constant loop whenever your mind would drift.

Chadwick took in your words and removed the box from his pocket. The time was right. He didn’t need anyone to tell him because he felt it. Through the jitters and rapid heartbeat, he could feel God giving him the okay to continue.

“What about marrying...me?”

“Aaron, you know how I-” your words dissolved into a soft gasp as you turned to face him.

His big brown eyes, the eyes you imagined on your future children and the eyes that always seemed to look into your soul, gazed at you with a fire of hope burning behind them. On one knee, he knelt to ask you the one question you never thought you’d hear.

“It’s been a long time for us, right,” he laughed to release some of his nerves. “I know that I love you. I’ve known for way too long. I should’ve done this when you were keeping me sane in New York but, I wanted you to have the best and I couldn’t give it to you. I waited too long but, God gave me the chance to get it right. It’s only been three months officially but, it feels like a lifetime. When I’m away from you, you’re all I can think about. I make decisions based on us now and I’ve never done that for any woman before. I want you to have my last name and be beside me through all the good and bad shit that life throws at us. All I need is your permission. Will you...marry me?”

“Are you being serious?” The moment the question left your lips, you knew that your doubt was unfounded. Still, you needed to know.

“Of course I’m being serious. I got a bad knee. I wouldn’t be down here just to play around, Tasha. If the answer is no, just tell me. I won’t be mad.”

“Yes!”

“Yes the answer is no or y-”

“Yes, I’ll marry you!”

Your mad dash toward him provided enough time for him to stuff the box into his pocket and welcome you into his arms. Your lips connected in a kiss laced in passion and love, fitting together like the final pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. His large hands pressed against your behind to push your body closer to his as he explored your mouth with his tongue. You traced tight circles at the nape of his neck while you moaned into the kiss from happiness and the growing arousal. Chadwick was the first to pull away, sporting a goofy grin as he watched your eyes flutter open.

“Can I put the ring on you now or would you rather we skip that part?”

“Ring,” you questioned in your daze. “Oh y-yeah, the ring...let’s do that.”

He chuckled at your stutter as he retrieved the item in question from his pocket. Gripping your wrist, he pulled your hand to press a kiss against your knuckles.

“Just to be sure, Tasha Nicole Green, will you marry me?”

“Yes! Yes today, tomorrow and everyday after that. Yes!”

Your feet danced in anticipation as he opened the box to reveal the most beautiful ring you’d ever seen. Nestled in the ivory lining of the box sat the oval Cartier Destinée Solitaire ring that you fawned over during a quick shopping trip. You didn’t even know that he was watching you because you never said a word. Now, here it was, sliding onto your finger as if were made specifically for you. You couldn’t help but stare at the ring with wide eyes as it sparkled in the light.

“Do you like it?”

“It...it’s beautiful. I don’t know what to say.”

“You said everything I need you to say,” he pressed a long kiss your lips. “All I wanna hear after this is you moaning my name. Hearing it over the phone the other night wasn’t good enough.”  

______________

Moonlight and the R&B playlist from your phone swathed your bodies as they created a song and dance of pure love. Chadwick hands pressed against the back of your knees to keep your legs steady while he moved in and out of your body at a tantalizing pace. As much as your whines and whimpers urged him to speed up, he wanted this moment, this feeling, to last forever.

He watched your slick entrance stretch to accommodate him, nearly pushing him out as your walls clamped around him. You were close for the second time and he was ready to give you the release you’d been begging for.

Releasing his grip on your legs, he placed your ankles on his waist and leaned into your body. His lips kissed across the top of your breast to your throat, nipping and sucking at the spots he knew you would react to. When he reached your ear, his kissed the spot below the lobe before whispering into it.

“You feel so good, baby. Do I make you feel good?”

“Yes,” you gasped as his hips snapped against yours. His short strokes came with a force that rocked your entire body. “Please...don’t stop.”

He took a moment to stop sucking at the sensitive skin on your neck to lock eyes with you. Your request was simple but had the power to drive him absolutely insane. He’d been with other women, some proclaimed to be fantastic lovers, but none held a candle to you and the way you made him feel. Your voice calling his name in reaction to his hips winding into yours in time with Any Time, Any Place sent him to Heaven and back. To slow the building eruption in his lower abdomen, he closed his eyes for a moment to focus on his movements.

Your ankles locked at the small of his back, sending him deeper inside of you as you continued to moan his name. Words were hard to come by, resulting in the chanting of praises for your man. He looked down at you with his pupils blown wide in response to the stimulation and bottom lip drawn between his teeth. He loved seeing your eyes rolled back in pleasure as your back arched off the bed, pressing your hardened nipples into his broad chest. The sting in your legs only increased when he pressed his chest into yours to push your back against the bouncing mattrea and intertwine your fingers with his. Your engagement ring caught the moonlight and created a spectrum of colors on the wall across the room.

“I love you, Tasha.”

“Ooooh...I-I love you, too. I’m - I’m-”

“Do it with me, baby. Let it go. Let me hear you.”

His grunts and groans seamlessly combined with yours as both of you came. Your legs trembled with each additional stroke, contributing to the ringing in your ears and black specks clouding your vision. He continued to snap his hips into yours, leaving him throbbing inside of you. When he was completely empty, he pulled his face from the crook of your neck to look into your eyes. Chadwick waited for your breathing to slow down and your eyes to open before he attacked your lips with kisses and murmured thanks.

“Let’s get married tonight. How long is it from here to Vegas,” you laughed from your spot underneath his body.

“Why so soon?”

“If this is a sin and it feels this good, imagine what married sex is like. I need to know like, right now. C’mon, go start the car!”

“Uh uh, slow down,” he answered, pushing your body back to the mattress when you tried to sit up. “We’re gonna do this the right way. My mama will kick my ass if I got married and she wasn’t there. Then she’d kick yours when I tell her it was your idea.”

“You’d snitch on me that quick?”

“Is it snitchin’ if it’s the truth,” you giggled along with your fiance as he moved to roll off of you. He propped his head up with his hands and allowed the other to drape across your waste. Turning to face him, you brought your hand up to caress his face and accept a kiss to your palm. “One year. Give us one year to put together the wedding you deserve.”

“You sound like you’ve been planning without me.”

“Something like that. I have a planner picked out already. She has some ideas that I think you’ll like. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll set up a dress fitting in whatever boutique you choose.”

“Baby,” the tears that you managed to hold in during the proposal slid down your cheeks in appreciation. Your lips found his in a soft kiss as he used his thumb to wipe the damp area under your eyes. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Buuut, we can talk about this in the morning. Tonight,” he started, pulling your body on top of his, “is for more anatomy. What season are we on again?”

“Three, I think.”

His hands pushed your hips forward to motion toward his face, “Season 3, huh? That means you owe me a least what, three more orgasms?”

“I don’t really see how that correl-ooooh shit.”

His tongue and lips against your center brought forth an uncontrollable shiver against his face. It took his fingers pressing into the small of your back to start up a grinding motion while he groaned and smacked during his meal. He was working on orgasm number two and, dammit, you were gonna give it to him.

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