#i’m just so excited i literally nearly had an asthma attack

[jounosparticles]

the way dazai is smiling the whole time and sigma looks so pissed off is perfect. thank you bones for doing them so good this scene.

[cursestothemoon]

Paging Dr. Weasley

Requested: yes

George Weasley x fem! reader 

Warnings: strong language, asthma, fever and illness symptoms, food

Word Count: 3031

Summary: George is excited to go see the new products at Zonko’s and the harsh weather isn’t going to stop him. The reader has asthma and she's a bit apprehensive about going out in the cold, dry weather but George insists it’ll be fine. George, unfortunately, is wrong.

***

The night prior it was quite clear to you that the weather would be horrid. The wind, aggressive in nature, thrashed and collided with the walls of the stone walls of the castle. You were fortunate, however, tucked under your boyfriend George’s arm, asleep in his warm dorm. He had insisted that you stayed the night with him, when it got cold out he got clingy, and you had no objections to his suggestion. The following day you were to venture down to Hogsmeade with George, a week ago the plan was made when he mentioned needing prank supplies from Zonko’s, Fred unable to go because of a weekend detention he got himself. With the oncoming storm you had assumed that tomorrow’s plans had been canceled, knowing from past learning experiences the harsh cold was no help to your asthma.

Light flooded through the window in George’s dorm, a bright white that pierced your eyes even as they rest under your lids. You turned away from the harsh light, nose pushing into the warm, inviting chest of your boyfriend as you tried to slip back into a deeper sleep. A deeper sleep would not come, it wasn’t long after you turned that you were fully awoken by a deep groan.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell, I told Lee to close the stupid curtains when he got in too.” George grumbled, hand smacking against his face to cover his eyes.

You were silent as you slowly shimmied yourself higher onto the pillow, motioning for him to lower himself so his face would be in your neck, concealed from the morning sun reflecting off the night's snow. George happily complied, humming his gratitude as he nuzzled into your neck before placing a gentle kiss where your shoulder met your neck.

“Who opened the fucking window?” Fred’s voice was heard after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

His tone showed his clear annoyance, followed by a groan and the shuffling of covers probably a result from him angrily pulling them over his head.

“I might’ve forgotten.” Lee answered from his bed making Fred chuck one of his pillows at him.

George groaned into your neck, “Will you two wankers shut up. We’re trying to sleep.”

“We?” Lee and Fred asked in unison before Fred continued, “Is Y/n there with you?”

George and you had retired to bed quite early last night, and neither of you expected Lee or Fred to check to see if George was alone last night before going to sleep.

“Yeah she’s here so shut up.” George grumbled again.

You could hear Fred, or Lee you weren’t sure, as they moved around in their bed before they spoke. It was Fred.

“Was the poor girl buried under the blankets all night?”

You decided to respond this time, “No, I had my face out to breathe.”

“Guess it’s time to get up.” Lee grumbled, moving to swing his legs out from under the covers.

“Maybe if you closed the curtains we’d all still be asleep a bit longer.” George sassed as he moved to sit up, not before giving you a good morning kiss on your forehead.

“Maybe if you closed the curtains…” Lee mimicked in a high voice, getting up to go to the bathroom.

Deciding that sleep would not be achieved until tonight, you too, sat up, knuckling at your eyes as you leaned against George’s chest. He circled his arms around your waist, placing another kiss to the crown of your head.

“Morning, pretty girl.” He rasped into your ear.

Unfortunately it was loud enough for Fred to hear and make a gagging noise as he turned away from you two.

“Disgusting. When you guys leave feel free to close the curtains, yeah?” He mumbled from under his covers, a few tendrils of fiery hair poking out.

You shuffled your legs over the edge of the mattress, standing up and stretching before grabbing the pillow you had been using to go over and smack Fred from over the sheets.

“Get up you wanker.”

He yelped before sitting up abruptly, hair a literal mess with strands sticking out randomly, “Georgie! Your girlfriend is attacking me, make her stop.”

George pretended to think for a moment before answering, “No. I don’t think I will.”

Fred feigned offence before also getting up and out of bed, his maroon boxers with green ‘F’s on them were quite the sight.

“Mate, it’s snowing out. How are you only wearing your knickers.” Lee asked, coming out from the bathroom.

“Run hot.” Fred answered simply with an overly flirty wink directed at Lee.

“Merlin…” George muttered, shaking his head as he got out of bed.

You smiled at your beloved, his hair- much like his brother’s- a frizzy mess of red locks and his eyes still puffy from just having woken up, but unlike his twin, George had on a pair of flannel pajama pants and an old Gryffindor t-shirt that he had cut to show his midriff. He was quite literally perfect, his pants hanging low on his hips- just exposing his v-line- and his t-shirt, now crop top, ended just above his belly button, an auburn happy-trail in view.

“You ready for today?” George asked, pulling you out of your less than innocent thoughts, his knowing smirk a clear sign that you had been caught ogling at him.

You stood for a moment in thought, “Today?”

George nodded, “Zonko’s, butterbeer, our plan to go to Hogsmeade.”

“I thought we would postpone that, the weather is horrid.”

He peered out the window before turning back to you, “It isn’t snowing much anymore, I think we should be in the clear.”

“Don’t you have asthma though? Won’t it make it act up?” Fred asked as he slipped on his shoes.

You nodded slowly, moving to fix the astray sheets on George’s bed, “Yeah, I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go out today.”

George pouted slightly, “We’ll bundle you up extra warm, and it’ll be quick. You’ll be ok, you haven’t had an attack in so long.”

You knew why he was so keen on going, Zonko’s had a new line of products that he was dying to get his hands on. He’d been talking about it for months, he and Fred finally saving up enough money from selling their own things to go purchase a few things. You felt bad, and he was right, you hadn’t had an asthma attack in a while so perhaps you’d be fine.

“Alright, but we’ll need to stop by my dorm so I can get my thick scarf. The one that goes up over my nose.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t have it anyother way.”

An hour later you and George were ready to go, two scarves- one long enough to go over your nose- a beanie, fuzzy socks, and a pair of George’s mittens were part of the outfit you were sporting. You felt a lot more confident in your attire now, nothing could go wrong...right?

It went wrong.

So very wrong.

The first half hour out on the town was fine, a bit chilly but George was there to wrap an arm around you and pull up your scarf so it covered your nose. Then, as the forty-five minute mark hit, you started to feel a bit...wheezy. The scarf kept slipping, the wind had picked up, and it was extremely dry out. Once it hit an hour you were in a full blown asthma attack, having to pull out a rescue inhaler- something you made sure to bring with you no matter how confident you were at first- and George felt absolutely terrible as he watched you try to catch your breath in The Three Broomsticks.

George rubbed a hand in comforting circles on your back as you took a few inhales of your inhaler trying to stop the painful wheezes. You reached behind you, putting a hand on his to try and tell him it was alright and you didn’t blame him, knowing he’d be beating himself up over this.

Once your breathing had leveled enough for you to string together a few words uninterrupted, you turned to your boyfriend.

“I’m sorry but I think it would be better if I went back.” You muttered, voice still a little raspy.

George crouched down, face to face with you sitting in a chair, as he spoke, “Baby,” He cooed, “You shouldn’t be sorry. I’m sorry I forced you to come out knowing you have asthma and you were worried. I should’ve been thinking more about you, pretty girl.”

You shook your head gently, “It’s alright George, you were excited. No one needs to apologize, let’s just go.”

George silently agreed, moving to remove his scarf as you stood up. He pulled up your scarf so it went over your nose and wrapped his own scarf around it in hopes of it staying up better. Once he was happy with his work, he grabbed your mitten covered hand and you two walked out of the little pub.

Fortunately, you two got back to the castle without another asthma attack hitting you. George took you straight to his dorm, and sat you on his bed. The dorm was empty, it was still rather early in the day, but you felt your eyes start to droop as fatigue from the asthma attack, shivering in the cold, and fighting your way through the snow all came crashing down on you. You were also starting to get a headache, something you were definitely not happy about.

The lanky ginger noticed how tired you started to look and felt his heart melt all while guilt nearly ate him alive. He knew it was his fault you were feeling so bad, but your tired eyes and grabby hands at him made him smile.

“We need to get you changed, love.” He said quietly, going to his own trunk to pull out a sweater and pajama pants for you.

With his sweater and pajama pants in hand he got down to his knees in front of the bed where you sat and started to unbutton your coat. Once unbuttoned he helped you shrug it off, then helped shed all the other layers until you were in a thin t-shirt before pulling his sweater over your head. You moved to take off your bra but George muttered to let me, his hands sliding up under your shirt to unhook your bra, then letting you shimmy around to get your arms out before grabbing the undergarment and putting it in his trunk- he doesn’t need the boys coming in and seeing his girlfriends bra.

He then unbuttoned your jeans, slowly helping you pull them down your legs before replacing them with his own pajama pants.

“Stan for me for a moment.” He said, going to tie the drawstring in a neat bow to make sure the pants didn’t fall off of you.

“Thank you Georgie.” You smiled leaning into his chest.

“No problem, love. Let’s get you into bed.”

You shuffled onto the bed and situated yourself under the covers, looking up at George expectantly making him chuckle.

“You take a nap, I’m going to go get us food alright?”

“Ok.” You nodded, getting comfortable.

Before George was even out the room, you had fallen asleep, the day had taken a toll on you evidently. He smiled at your peaceful form, asleep in his bed, before carefully leaving the dorm to go grab some food for a late lunch.

George came back with the food fifteen minutes later, but he couldn’t find it in him to wake you up just yet. He waited around an hour before gently kissing your hairline to wake you up, but he grimaced at the unusual heat that your skin held.

When you woke, you felt fine, maybe a little lethargic, but fine. Usually asthma attacks didn’t take this much out of you but perhaps it was just because of how intense this one was and your head was still pounding.

You two quietly ate, George asking how you were every so often, you responding with a soft ‘alright’ before going back to the sandwich he brought. When the food was finished you crawled back into George’s bed, still feeling a bit sluggish but the food helped.

“Can you lay with me?”

George nearly awed audibly at how soft and small your voice was.

“Let me just change ok, bubs?”

You nodded, “Wear the cropped shirt please.”

George chuckled at your request but of course complied, pulling the shirt over his head and letting it fall just above his belly button. You smiled at the sight making him shake his head before pulling his own pajama pants on and climbing into bed next to you.

Hushed conversation started between the two of you. He was sitting up slightly with your head placed on his chest. As the sun went down and the other boys came back to the dorm, you let the melodic thump of George’s heartbeat lull you to sleep.

***

The night was a bit rough to say the least, George barely got any sleep due to his worrying about your wheezing. You didn’t usually wheeze when you slept, so it worried him. You on the other hand woke up with a stuffy nose, painfully dry cough, and achy muscles.

You were sick.

Even worse, it was Monday morning and you could not muster up the strength to get yourself dressed and to class. You had woken up first that morning, an aggressive cough pulling both you and George out of sleep. Once you the coughing fit had subsided you turned to look at George.

“I don’t think I can go to class today.” You pouted.

George pushed your hair out of your face as he answered, “Don’t worry about it, darling.” He placed an open palm on your forehead, “You’re burning up.”

Just as he had said it your body shivered before you erupted into another coughing fit.

“My thoughts exactly.” He smiled. “You are not leaving this bed today, and I’ve just gotten word that Dr. Weasley is in.”

You let out a raspy laugh, “You don’t have to miss class, I’ll survive.”

George shook his head, “Nope, I’m going straight to McGonagall to tell her that you are sick and I need to take care of you.”

He left before you could protest any further.

You turned around, getting comfortable again, and started to doze off before Fred piped up.

“I thought you two would never quite fucking yelling.” He groaned.

Lee responded for you, “Shut up you twat.”

***

George jogged to the transfiguration classroom still in his pajamas getting interesting looks from the people in the halls. He didn’t care though, not when his little love was sitting in his bed sniffly and sick waiting for his cuddles.

He made it to the classroom and pushed the door open, startling Professor McGonagall and the few students in the room.

“Mr. Weasley! You cannot just come stampeding into my ro- what in Merlin’s name are you wearing?”

George caught his breath before speaking, “Professor, Y/n is sick and she can't come to class and since she’s sick she obviously needs me to take care of her so I also cannot attend classes today.”

“Is Miss L/n alright?” McGonagall asked, now worried about the girl.

“It’s my fault, I took her out in the cold yesterday and her asthma acted up but now she’s also got a fever and she was wheezing all night.” George rambled, the guilt coming back.

His Professor put her hands out to stop his rambling and push him toward the door, “Alright, alright, you go take care of the poor girl, both of you are excused for today and tomorrow if it’s necessary. If it gets any worse take her straight to Madam Pomfrey, understood?”

George nodded and McGonagall continued, “And for Merlin's sake next time send someone else to come tell me, we do not need you strutting around the school in- in- whatever this is.”

She gestured toward George’s outfit making his ears turn pink, realizing just how many eyes are on him at the moment.

“Right, of course. Thank you.”

***

George made it back to his dorm just as Lee and Fred were stepping out to leave for their first class of the day. He offered them a quick good morning and ‘see you later’ before making his way to you. He found you asleep in bed and tucked the covers under your chin before sliding into bed with you, pulling you into his chest as he let sleep take over.

A few hours later he woke up to you already awake and reading a note, he assumed it was attached to one of the two bottles that had been placed on his bedside table sometime while he was asleep.

“Who’s that from?” He asked, sitting up and looking over the note.

“McGonagall, she sent up medicine.”

“How sweet of Minnie.” He smiled pulling himself out of bed, “Alright, let Dr. Weasley read it.”

You laughed, “Dr. Weasley?”

He nodded feigning shock, “Yes, Dr. Weasley, and I’m going to nurse you back to health.”

George plucked the note from you and read it over, taking in all the instructions on how and when to take the medication which he assumed were the two bottles.

The rest of the day passed with George waiting on you hand and foot, bringing up food, rubbing your back, cuddling you, you name it he did it. He also did it all in his cute little crop top that definitely helped speed up the process of your recovery.

Now as you lay in bed, George tilts your head up to place a gentle kiss on your lips but you stop him before he can.

“You’ll get sick.”

He chuckles, “I’ve been kissing on you, and cuddling with you all day. I’m going to get sick either way, pretty girl, so please let me kiss you on the lips at least once today.”

“Alright but we can’t tell anyone, I don’t think it’s very proper of me to be snogging my doctor.”

taglist:

@amourtentiaa 

@hufflepuff5972 

[supersickies]

Summary: "Steve absolutely wasn’t nervous. Compared to every intense and grueling Avengers mission he’s completed, taking care of a sick kid was a walk in the park right? Except when this sick kid was also one of the most precious things within Tony Stark’s life and if anything were to happen to this boy there’s no doubt in Steve’s mind that Tony would dump him in an instant.

So no, Steve was not nervous at all."

OR

Tony has meetings, Steve has anxiety, and poor Peter just has a fever.

A/N: It’s Sicktember 2021! Very excited for this month and to see all of the amazing works! Not to mention it gives me an excuse and the motivation to write as many sickfics as I can! And let's see if I do because writer's block is too real right now :) Anyway thank you @sicktember for coming up with this month of prompts and I hope you all like this little fic! Read it here or click the link to read on AO3! 

Steve absolutely wasn’t nervous. Compared to every intense and grueling Avengers mission he’s completed, taking care of a sick kid was a walk in the park right? Except when this sick kid was also one of the most precious things within Tony Stark’s life and if anything were to happen to this boy there’s no doubt in Steve’s mind that Tony would dump him in an instant.

So no, Steve was not nervous at all.

Tony, however, could see right through the false confidence.

“Relax, Stevie! Good lord, I can feel you panicking from over here.” Tony jokes as he enters the living room and gathers his briefcase and Stark gadgets for his day of meetings.

Steve jolts a bit as he looks up at Tony. “Huh? I-I’m not panicking.”

“You were just glaring daggers into Petey over there, hon.” Tony points out, to which Steve just shrugs with a blush. “There’s really no need to worry Cap, the kid is probably just gonna sleep and cough a bit until I’m back, alright? And if he wakes up and gets antsy or something just heat up some of the soup I made and throw on Adventure Time. Pete’s an easy kid, I swear.”

Steve stands from his chair with a deep breath and nods in understanding. Tony strides over to the super-soldier and takes his face in his hands. “There’s no one I trust more with Peter than you. Except maybe Pepper, but she can literally do everything.”

Steve laughs at that and bends down to give Tony a quick peck on the lips. They break apart so Tony can give Peter’s hair a quick ruffle. His hand pauses on the boy’s forehead as he gauges his fever. His lips quirk downward, he does not love the temperature the kids running at the moment.

With a sigh, he stands up and walks hand in hand with Steve to the elevator. “I think his fever went up, so just keep an eye on that. Friday is down for maintenance so you’ll probably want to wake him up in a bit to take his temperature manually.” The elevator doors open and the super couple shares one last peck before Tony steps in. “I’m just thirty floors down! You’re gonna do great! I love you both!” Tony calls as the doors close and suddenly Steve is alone. Well, save for the snoring spider-teen on the couch.

Steve wanders back to the living room, nervously glancing at Peter as he does. The poor kid is basically in the exact opposite of his regular state. On a normal day, Peter was a bright ball of action, seemingly unable to stop talking or moving at all. But that wasn’t the Peter he saw now.

Instead, this Peter was silent. Sick. There’s an eerie ambiance in the air and Steve hates it.

So, to quell the weird vibe, he turns the tv to TCM, (un-ironically his favorite channel as the rest of the team loved to tease him about) and sets it at a low volume so he doesn’t wake the kid.

He’s just about to the end of an old western film when he hears Peter groan and shuffle around on the couch. The sick teen sits up wearily, his hair a mess and his eyes unfocused. Not to mention his cheeks are deeply flushed with fever, which has clearly gotten worse in the last forty-five minutes.

“S’eve?” Peter slurs as he spots the super solider.

Steve’s focus quickly turns to the kid, who looks undoubtedly sicker. “Hey, Pete. How you feeling, pal?” Stupid question, Rogers. He thinks to himself.

Peter sniffs and shivers with sudden chills. “Mm, n-not v’ry good.” His voice cracks as tears fill to his eyes. His sleep-addled brain catching up to and feeling the full effect of his feverish achy body. He can’t stop his breath as it hitches and the tears spill over. It just hurts so much.

Steve’s up and at the boy’s side almost inhumanly fast, doing his best to comfort him. Unfortunately, he’s no expert on Peter care (i.e, he’s not Tony). If there’s one thing he does know, however, is that you can never go wrong playing with the kid’s hair, which Steve had quickly learned by watching his boyfriend. And while Tony was the “Peter scalp massage pro”, Peter definitely wasn’t picky about who or how. The kid simply just wanted his hair touched.

So Steve did just that. The larger man was relieved to find that the action had the desired effect—Peter had calmed almost instantly, curling up against Steve’s side— but the super soldier was quickly fulled with nerves again as he felt the nearly scalding heat coming from the kid.

When Peter had relaxed enough, Steve grabbed the thermometer Tony had left on the coffee table. Peter spots the machine in Steve’s hand and opens his mouth, accustomed to the routine after being sick all day yesterday as well.

With the thermometer under his tongue, Peter lets his eyes close as they wait for the reading to be done. When it is, Peter lightly jumps at the beep before burrowing back into Steve’s side as the blonde takes the thermometer back and reads its results.

And while Peter looks peaceful once again, Steve is panicking. 103.5. Steve’s not a scientist but he knows that’s not a good temperature for the body to be.

“Friday can you- ah.” Oh, right. Steve remembers that the AI was down for maintenance. Instead, he looks around for his phone, ready to research exactly what he should do for a kid with a near brain-melting fever.

Steve bites the inside of his cheek as he, again, remembers. He doesn’t have a phone right now, as he sat with his last one in his back pocket and it cracked in half. He and Tony had laughed themselves to tears when it happened.

Steve wasn’t laughing now.

He’s thrown back into the moment as Peter groans again, another intense chill running through the kid’s frame. Poor kid must be freezing, Steve thinks.

Freezing.

With that realization, Steve is taken back to his teen years. The years he spent consistently sick and feverish like Peter is now. The years his Ma used to keep him in bed for days, wrapped in every blanket they had in their house.

Blankets!

Steve suddenly remembers how to treat a high fever. You sweat it out, duh. With a tiny smile at the memory of his Ma, he stands from the couch carefully and heads to Tony’s linen closet. He spots a soft looking quilt beside a thick fluffy throw and grabs the two, knowing that when paired with the blanket the kid was already wrapped in they would make the perfect fever banishing covers.

Peter is almost back to sleep when Steve returns, but he hears the man's footsteps and his eyes open again. Steve makes quick work of unfolding the blankets and laying them over Peter. The kid hums, content with the warmth of the added blanked combating his chills, and falls swiftly to sleep. It makes Steve smile, pleased with his ability to care for the sick spidering.

Steve was feeling pretty confident that Tony was going to be just as pleased.

______

Tony Stark was far from pleased.

He had excused himself from his meeting after an hour, intent on checking Peter’s vitals on his phone through the watch the boy wore on his wrist.

What he saw was less than ideal. In fact, it was terrifying. 104.3 should be Peter’s physics grade after perfectly completing extra credit for fun, not his kid’s body temperature. The mechanic bolts to the nearest elevator, paying no mind to the white-collar assholes who awaited his return. They didn’t matter, not when his kid’s brain was melting thirty floors up.

“Steve!” He shouts when the elevator doors finally open to the penthouse. The blonde jumps when he hears his name and his eyes widen as he sees his panicked boyfriend sprinting towards him.

“Tony wha-?”

“Where’s Peter, Steve? Where is he— is he okay?”

Still a bit flustered, Steve just points to the sleeping boy on the couch, still wrapped in the thick blankets. When Tony sees him, his eyes only go wider.

“What, are you trying to fucking roast him?” Tony asks, exasperated. Before Steve can answer, Tony begins removing the blankets from his kid. Cringing at the heat that wafts out from them as they go.

“I-I- his fever got higher! I was trying to help him sweat it out!” Steve stumbles through his explanation.

“Sweat it out? Jesus fuck what are you from the thir- oh my god you’re from the thirties.” Tony halts with the realization. Steve Rogers was borderline a complete stranger to modern medicine and comes from an era of absolute batshit home remedies. The man smoked cigarettes for his asthma for fucks sake.

“Okay, alrighty then. Steve do me a favor and go start a lukewarm bath for me please.” Tony orders in about the most anxiously calm voice Steve had ever heard.

“Okay but Tony-“

“Now please, Steven.” Tony demands once more. Steve gets the memo, fast, and quickly heads to Tony’s bathroom.

Shit.

_____

After a quick dip in the tub and a quick anxiety attack from Tony, Peter’s temperature is back down to a less dangerous level. He’s sat back on the couch in the lightest t-shirt and boxers he owns, sipping ice water through a straw with a fever patch stuck to his forehead. Maybe it was overkill, but you couldn’t tell Tony that.

When the boy's eyes begin to droop Tony takes the water from his hands and helps him lay back down.

“Comfy, bubba?” He asked in a hushed tone. Peter just nods and yawns as he closes his eyes and quickly drifts back to sleep. “Get some more sleep bud.” He hums softly, laying a thin—thin—blanket over his kid.

Steve watches the pair from afar, afraid to step in or offer any more “help”. He doubts Tony will even want to look at him after what he’s done. Which is why when Tony stands and turns to him, he immediately tenses. He��s ready to be yelled at, cursed at, probably dumped.

“C’mere.” Tony says, opening his arms to Steve, inviting him into a hug. The blonde is shocked, sure, but he accepts the hug quickly, silently thinking it could be his last with the man he’s come to love so much.

“Again, Stevie, I can hear you overthinking.” Tony mumbles against his boyfriend's shoulder. He pulls away from the hug and takes the man's hands, looking up at him. “All things considered, you did nothing wrong, hon.”

“Tony I just-“

“You just did what you thought was right. You didn’t know any better Steve.” Tony rebuts before Steve can even finish.

“I’m just…I’m really sorry Tony. You trusted me with your most important person and— I fucked up bad.” Steve apologizes.

“Woah there big guy!” Tony’s brows shoot up at the apology. “First off, language mister.” Tony teases, it makes Steve blush and a hint of a smile ghosts his lips. Tony sees that as a win. “Second, yes, you’re correct. Peter is incredibly important to me. He’s my kid, but you are my Steve!” Tony emphasizes, shaking Steve’s shoulders a bit as if it will help get the point across. “You are incredibly important to me too! You made a mistake, and guess what Steve, that’s human— you’re human!”

Steve smiles sadly and nods before looking back at Peter’s sleeping form on the couch, just double-checking that the kid was truly fine.

Tony huffs lightly, using his fingers to softly move Steve’s head so he’s looking at him again. “Look at me, love. Peter’s fine, you’re fine, I’m fine, and we are fine. Okay?”

Steve takes a deep breath, closing his eyes with a smile. “Okay.” He confirms quietly. He can feel Tony’s hands move to cup the sides of his cheeks as he’s brought into a deep kiss. It quells all of his anxieties. Tony is here, with him, and he’s not going anywher-

“Eeugh, y-you guys ‘re cute and stuff, but the PDA ’s kinda makin’ me nauseous.” Peter’s voice breaks their kiss. Both Avengers turn to the kid, their faces about as red as his feverish cheeks after getting caught.

Tony snorts. “Oh come on kiddie!” Tony pulls Steve’s face closer to his again, this time just peppering kisses across his face. “A man can’t show his boyfriend some love?”

The older men laugh until they hear a legitimate gag from Peter. “N-no I’m serious Mr. Stark—“ Gag. “I’m really nauseous.”

“Steven grab a trash can.” Tony prompts, the same anxiously calm demeanor back in his voice as before.

Steve wastes no time, sprinting to the closest receptacle. “On it!”

[slashmebois]

You make me breathless

“Hello! How are you? I hope you are very well ;) If you don't mind, could you write about Bo's reaction to an asthmatic reader? being fucking soft on him and freaking out when he tries too hard? How to mount your thigh? I suffer from asthma attacks, you know, it's hell when everyone treats me like a baby, but deep down I enjoy it, thanks in advance and see you!”

 Thank you so much for your request @ !! I hope this fits what you wanted! I kept this GN up until thigh riding, so if y’all aren’t the owners of a va-gi-na you may wanna stop reading at that point.

I’ve not written NSFW before so sorry if it’s a lil cringe haha.

Disclaimer: My only experience of asthma is a close family member who has pretty severe symptoms. If any of the information I put in is incorrect, please drop me a message and I’ll do my best to educate myself and edit the post! I used information from Asthma UK to inform my writing.

Okay first, some background.

When you first arrived in Ambrose and Bo was chasing you, he thought it was hilarious when your asthma started to act up (he’s an asshole, I’m sorry). But he did feel a little teensy bit guilty about that later…

Leading on from that, if anyone does anything that triggers your asthma, well Bo is gonna be pissed.

Both Lester and Vincent have been kicked in the ass for doing so. Vincent is just so quiet that he scared the heck out of you by accident, and Lester bought that cleaning product that sets you off because he wasn’t listening properly.

Boy really thought you needed CPR the first time you had a big attack (he just wanted an excuse to kiss you okay). He’s since learned to keep an eye on where your inhaler and Volumatic spacer are so he can grab them quick.

If you have a preventer inhaler, he tries to remind you to take it.

He’s also a little overprotective (see bullet point two) and panics a little because he doesn’t really understand that sometimes the cause won’t be obvious. He has literally run around holding up things to you and asking if that is what was causing it.

It can feel like he’s babying you since he drops whatever is happening if you get the slightest bit breathless.

But also he drops whatever he’s doing, which is kind of sweet.

Initially he got pretty proud when your symptoms triggered whilst you were getting it on. Once you’d recovered and explained it to him, he realised that whilst he loved the idea of you finding it hard to breathe around him, that maybe, just maybe it wasn’t actually a good thing.

 Tonight, was the night. You were determined. Tonight, was the night you would make Bo realise you are an independent and goddamn sexy adult who can take care of themselves.

He had been babying you all week. The pollen count in Ambrose currently was astronomical and setting off your asthma big time. You had been trying to get down and dirty, but every time you had felt your airways tightening and Bo had scrambled for your inhaler, before holding you and kissing your head. And he always refused sex after. You were pretty sure he thought that’s what was causing it at this point.

You dressed yourself in your tightest, most revealing clothes, adding a garter underneath for good luck. You felt sexy and powerful. You just hoped Vincent wasn’t chilling in the kitchen to see this. It had happened before and yes; it was embarrassing for everyone involved. Striding down the stairs you glance over to the kitchen table. Okay, phew. The coast is clear.

You’re thankful as you step into the street, that the air in Ambrose is always warm- come summer or winter. You hear the music coming from the garage before you see Bo come into view. He’s singing along, focused on the car engine in front of him. You lean against the garage door, watching him with that warm fuzzy feeling of love. You’re so thankful you found him.

He turns and jumps a little, before eyeing you up and down slowly- a devilish grin working its way onto his face.

“Well that is a nice view” he whistles, his eyes locking with yours, “what’s the occasion?”

“No occasion…just wanted to look nice for myself” you spin on the spot, giving him the full view.

“For yourself huh?”, he makes his way over to you, laying his hands on your hips and leaning in close to hum in your ear, “and could little old Bo get any of that, or are we strictly keeping this to ourselves?” he punctuates it, by pulling you close enough to feel his erection against your back.

You gasp audibly, “I guess I could share a little. Sharing is caring and all that”

His laughs rumbles, And he starts walking you towards the basement, gripping and grasping at you as he does.

By the time you reach the basement, you’re already moaning and can feel the growing arousal between your thighs. He manages to jostle the door open and picks you up, wrapping your legs round him to carry you over to the chair.

Bo, leans back and just studies you before going to town on your neck, nipping and sucking and groaning, “how the fuck did I get so lucky baby”.

You’re a mess before he’s even touched you down there, and struggling to form words, “Bo…uhh…oh my-YES”

His hands paw at your chest, kneading the flesh before moving south to cup you.

“Someone’s excited” he grins, but you can hear he’s nearly as breathless as you.

His fingers start to move down there and it’s little bits of electric. You’re panting and grabbing at his back,

“please please please”

He pulls his hand away and you groan in dismay. The sensation is quickly replaced, you squeak as he rips your bottoms off and kneels before you, putting his mouth on you and sucking hard.

You can feel yourself quickly approaching climax, but then it happens. Your throat tightens and you gasp inward, your breath not quite reaching your lungs.

Bo is immediately off you, “where’s your inhaler, where is it baby?”, he looks so worried, fuck. This is so unfair. You point over to your discarded bag and he rustles through it to find your saving grace. He tosses you the inhaler, and picks you up as you use your inhaler, placing you down in his lap.

You take breaths in, letting the medication sooth your airways until you can breathe again. All the time, Bo is muttering reassurances and sweeping you hair back from your face to kiss your eyelids.

“It’s okay baby, you’re all right. Don’t worry. We’ll get you to bed”

You can feel the angry tears threatening to spring from your eyes, “I don’t want to go to bed Bo. I am not a baby! I’m a fully grown adult and I want to fuck. Jesus!”

He stills, a little stunned, “You think I treat you like a baby?”, his tone is dark.

“Well…I…I just feel stupid.”

“Oh no, no, no. That’s fine. I can treat you different if you like”

Before you can respond he has you over his lap and his hand is coming down on your backside. You yelp in surprise, “B…Bo”

---GN ends, reader is person with vagina from here on out---

“Ah-ah, call me daddy babygirl”

You feel a shiver of delight pass through you, “yes daddy”, the groan that emits from Bo is unworldly.

He spanks you again, and you moan, squirming you legs together beneath him, “please daddy”

“Please, what?”

“Uhhhn, please touch me”

“Come sit on daddy’s knee”

You lift yourself, desperate to please him so he’d please you. You start to sit sideways across his knees, but he stops you and pulls you toward him so that you have a leg on either side of one of his knees.

Confused you start to question “what in the heck are you doing?” but before you can finish the sentence, he grinds his knee up into your core and ohhh…oh fuck, that feels good. Your legs clamp tightly around his leg, and you start to press down, “mmm. Please. Please daddy, that feels so good”.

He grinds his knee again and grabs your hips, pulling you down onto his thigh more. You don’t need more encouragement, you start moving your hips with him, mewling out his name and expletives. You leave a trail of your wetness along his leg, and fuck if that isn’t hot.

“Tell daddy how good it feels pet. Mm, you like that don’t you?”

“Daaaddy, it feels-mmmf-it feels so good.”

“Whose doing that to you?”

“Y…you are Bo. Oh my god. Oh my god. pleeeease”

Your face is flushed and your hair sticks to your forehead as you feel the mounting tightness in your stomach pooling down.

“Yeah I am baby. You gonna cum for me? Gonna make you cum just using my thigh huh?”

You try to respond but your orgasm tears through you, and you just wail in a mix of pleasure and slight pain. Your breath is short, but for a different reason this time. You’re still for a spell, trying to catch it again, and trying to decide if you’re still on this plane of existence. You realise that the whole time Bo is just staring at you, a big smile on his face.

“What?” you laugh.

“Nothing, just think I’ll have to stop treating you so precious huh? Kinda liked this side of you”

You pout, “I don’t mind you treating me a little like a baby. But only a little.”

He barks out a laugh, “Alright, alright. We’ll compromise. You can be my spoilt baby during the day”, he leans in close to your ear, his thighs movement against your slit making you jump, “but at night I’m treating you like this. You get an asthma attack, fine we’ll sort it. But I might have to punish you for making me worry”

You bite your lip, feeling a second wave of arousal hit you. Fuck, at this rate you’d be cumming a second time real soon. He catches the look in your eye, “Guess I better get to work on you again”

[iamcayc]

The Sounds of Gojo - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Exchange Rating: SFW Word Count: 4292 Relationships: Gojo x OC (Kaya)

read here on Ao3

To say that you’re going to murder your cousin would be a vast understatement. Not only did you explicitly tell him to come pick you up after work promptly at 3:30 PM, but you also reiterated that you had zero interest in putting up with Gojo’s shit when you’re still feeling like you ran a marathon after being squashed by an elephant. It was a very reasonable request, and you had worded it very clearly to avoid any potential miscommunication.

So, one could imagine your immense disappointment and rage at the sight of white hair... and that smug-ass grin?

Kento Nanami is dead to you.

“Hey there, teach.” He’s wearing Ray-Bans today, his hair framing his face in a way that makes him look more youthful—and much to your chagrin, more attractive.

“Heard you could use a ride to collect your bike from the school, so I generously offered my services.” You notice that some of the girls are staring at him unabashedly, making you roll your eyes. Sexually-repressed teenage girls around Gojo is a terrifying thought, so you quickly usher him off the grounds and towards the front gate.

“What’s the rush?” he asks amiably. “It’s a nice day, after all. Wanna go get some donuts? There’s a new shop around here that I was thinking about trying.”

Your arms are folded across your chest as you glower at him. “Why are you really here?”

He pouts prettily at you. “Huh? Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Why on earth would that be my reaction to you showing up unannounced at my work, again?”

“Well, I still owe you compensation for helping me out last night.” He shrugs as he faces you. “Plus, I thought we had some chemistry going, but maybe I misread the banter. I mean, you brought up my dick the other night—”

Knowing full well that you won’t make actual contact, you cover his mouth with your hand anyway.

“Take me to get my bike so I can be rid of you sooner rather than later,” you hiss. His mouth stays covered until he nods, but your hands don’t make it away unscathed. No, just before you can yank your hand back, Gojo grabs hold of your wrist and you freeze. Not because he grabbed your wrist, but because you can actually feel his skin against yours.

He’s dropped Infinity, just long enough to stroke his thumb across the sensitive patch of skin inside your wrist. He makes actual contact just long enough to brush his surprisingly-soft lips against the back of your hand, all the while maintaining unwavering eye contact.

If you aren’t so stunned, you know your panties would be soaking wet at the intimacy of the moment.

But you are stunned, so you wrench your hand out of his as if burned.

Gojo simply smiles at you before gesturing at the sleek black car parked behind him. “Figured you’d want a ride, rather than warp.”

You sigh and head towards the car, shooting Kento a text.

You 3:30 PM What the actual fuck, Kento

kento-bro 🥐 3:31 PM I did NOT tell him to pick you up. I explicitly told him that the idea was a terrible one and would likely end with me dead. You can imagine his reaction to that.

You could, and you tried not to glare at Gojo as he held the door to his car open for you. The vehicle interior is surprisingly spotless; with his lackadaisical attitude, you expected random junk stuffed into the center console, at the very least.

It also smells just like him, sending a traitorous tingle down your spine.

“Are you cold?” Gojo asks as he slides into the driver’s seat. “I can turn on the heat, if that’ll make you more comfortable.”

You shake your head, tucking a few lavender locks behind your ear. “I’m fine, just a random cold chill. I’m surprised you even both to drive.”

Gojo shrugs as he starts up the car. “No reason not to learn. I’m more than just my techniques, you know?”

It isn’t as if you only saw him as a sorcerer.

Based on the flood of pure heat that you nearly drown in as he shifts the car into reverse and immediately places his right hand on your headrest, looking over his shoulder to pull out of the parking spot, you see him as a red-blooded man just like any other.

And that is something you intend to keep to yourself.

“So, have you decided?” he asks conversationally. Your irritation with him clearly doesn’t matter in the slightest, which only makes you exhale slowly. Traffic is touch and go as you try to make it out of Shibuya, so might as well make the most of the drive.

“You didn’t trigger an asthma attack, and me nearly passing out was due to my own idiocy, so I guess I’ll settle for a bottle of a decent red blend,” you reply as you settle into the passenger seat. Chill EDM and instrumental music hums its way through the car’s speakers from whatever satellite radio station he’s tuned into, your finger absently tapping along with the beat against your thigh.

“Hmm.” You feel his gaze on you for the briefest moment as he continues to drive. “I think I can make that happen. Seems like a pretty lackluster request, considering I practically gave you a blank check.”

You roll your eyes. “What did you think I was going to ask for?”

“I don’t know. Something more exciting, like a date, or even a kiss.”

“Sure you aren’t projecting a bit?” You cock your head a bit as you look at him. He’s got one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on the shifter. Your brain tries to reconcile the tall, charming, sexy as fuck man sitting next to you with the arrogant, pain-in-the-ass sorcerer that grated your nerves like no other. You can’t say why he rubs you the wrong way; it could be his carefree attitude towards absolutely everything, or maybe his continuous assumption that he can charm the pants off you, literally and figuratively.

Either way, it boils down to the simple fact that you don’t trust if and when he’s ever being genuine with you, or anyone, really.

“Would it really be so bad for you to admit you find me attractive?” he wonders aloud.

“I have no problem admitting you’re attractive,” you reply with a half-sigh. “It’s honestly a little disorienting, but then you start talking and all the allure just gets sucked right out, like a nasty little vacuum.”

“Why are you and Nanamin so mean to me?” Gojo whines. He makes the turn onto the campus, easing his way towards the parking lot where you had left your bike the night before. “Here I am, just trying to be nice...”

He parks the car right next to your Triumph, turning to face you with a pout. You simply stare at him, trying to decide how to best to inform him that he once again lost his head in his own asshole.

“Maybe if you tried to just be sincere instead of nice, people would stop being so ‘mean’ to you,” you point out. He pushes his sunglasses up and into his hair, regarding you with somber blue eyes.

“Would that work on you?”

You can tell he’s asking you seriously. The pitch of his voice has dropped, abandoning the air of frivolity and slipping into a velvet soft baritone that sends warmth through your center. It’s a tone you haven’t heard from him before.

“Yes.” Your mouth is spitting words faster than you can censor them. “I’d trust you, at the very least.”

Gojo leans towards you, his expression painfully neutral. “That’s important to you, isn’t it? Trust.”

His proximity to you, speaking to you in that lower pitch… it makes your heart thunder in your chest. You know there’s absolutely no way Gojo can’t hear it—it’s practically pushing out of your chest. What had been basic attraction is suddenly inching its way out of that easy to manage category and into dangerous territory.

Your brain doesn’t get the memo.

“Yes, it is,” you reply, your voice barely a murmur. “When you get fucked over enough times, trust issues develop. A basic psychological fact, as far as I’m concerned.”

He turns this information over in his mind. You can see the thoughts sinking into the vault behind his eyes. Gojo can be a brat on a good day, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t brilliant or observant.

“Can I have your number?”

You blink, reeling from the whiplash of his question. You fully process the moment and realize his charmer’s grin and bubbly tenor are back. The moment of honesty is gone.

A scoff is forming in your mind when you catch Gojo’s eyes again. The dissonance between the honesty swimming in the azure blues of his eyes and the mask he’s presenting is so clear, it takes you a second to quell your retort and hold out your hand.

His mask softens just a fraction as he gives you his phone, but his eyes never waver. You only break the stare to glance at his phone while you enter in your number, calling your own phone to save his number before handing the device back.

You’re typing out his name when you see a text come through from that number.

Unknown Number 4:18 PM this is Satoru, fyi 🤗

The use of his name feels intentional. You focus your energy and let your aura slip along the edges of his, luring it out for you to see. It’s a halo of cerulean blue, humming softly to you.

Your fingers hover over your keyboard for a moment before you save the number under just Satoru.

“I’ll text you when your bottle of wine’s ready,” Gojo says brightly. “But you have to promise that you’ll follow the instructions I send, too.”

That sounds like a trap and you immediately narrow your eyes as you start to exit the car. He just drops his shades with a too-innocent smile. Bickering with him wouldn’t end up being productive, so you just shake your head.

“Thanks for the ride, Gojo.” You step out of the car and unlock your bike, the tiny bit of anxiety you have about leaving it unattended somewhere unfamiliar easing away as you zip up your leather jacket and pick up your helmet.

“Hey, teach.” You see that Gojo’s window has rolled down as you swing your leg over the bike. “Ride safe, alright? Let me know when you get home, too.”

You can’t help but smile a little. “What are you, my dad?”

His smile turns feline. “Why, feel like calling me ‘daddy?’”

Your eyes can’t roll harder than they do right then. Refusing to deign that with a response, you snap your visor shut and take off back towards your apartment in Yoyogi.

The moment he let you past his Infinity replays in your thoughts the entire ride home. The feel of his skin against yours felt so… nice. The internal cringe at the lackluster adjective is unavoidable. It hasn’t been that long since you’ve had sex, for fuck’s sake. Are you really that starved for attention that you’re willing to play with the giant bonfire of fuck-boy that is Gojo just to satisfy your curiosity — among other things?

You ease your bike into your garage and head back into your safe space. Shedding your jacket, you glance at your phone before you move into the kitchen to start dinner.

Satoru 4:53 PM what perfume do you wear??

Satoru 4:53 PM also, have you made it home yet??? 😰😰😰

Your brows knit at his first question as you pour yourself a glass of wine while last night’s takeout reheats.

You 5:09 PM Just got home. Why do you want to know about my perfume?

Satoru 5:10 PM whew, i was worried!!

Satoru 5:10 PM it smells lovely in my car, the same way you did when i carried you into your place last night. call me curious 🤔

Suspicious, that’s what you’d call him. You let the text sit while you stir your leftovers, distracted by the sense of a blush forming on your cheeks at the thought of him enjoying your perfume in his car as much as you enjoyed his scent.

“And those are the thoughts of a complete weirdo,” you mumble as you stick your leftovers into the microwave for another minute.

You 5:12 PM It’s called Wisteria Blue by Nest

Ordinarily, you’d have silenced your phone and left it somewhere beyond reach to completely disconnect while you unwind from the day. And ordinarily, you’d have your attention focused on some murder docuseries instead of thoroughly grading assignments.

Yet, your phone remains face up and on ringer as it stares at you from the coffee table. You’re half-paying attention to the new show on a crazy cult in the States during the 1980s while nibbling on leftover fried chicken and rice, your peripheral honed in on the screen of your phone and diverting your focus like a fucking teenager.

And, just like a teenager, your stomach flips when your phone chimes and lights up again.

Satoru 5:22 PM do you trust me now?

You 5:23 PM Not completely, no. but I am more inclined to try and trust you

You 5:23 PM Besides, not all of us have Infinity to ward off folks we don’t want hurting us

When he doesn’t immediately reply, you attempt to refocus on your dinner. It’s not like you think Satoru plans on hurting you; that moment in the car before you left gives you a tiny bit of peace of mind there. No, your reactions are purely automatic defense mechanisms, ingrained into you after years of gaslighting and emotional manipulation.

Nope, not going to think about all that. You turn up the television to drown out your own thoughts, just as your phone lights up again.

Satoru 5:31 PM got any good stories about nanamin? 😈

The cackle that bubbles up is pure petty bitch. Boy, oh boy, do you have stories? Since you steadfastly believe that the white-haired demon’s appearance in your life is all Kento’s fault, you feel absolutely no guilt in arming his friend with some solid ammunition.

You 5:33 PM Did you know that he’s terrified of moths? Not like, ew that’s gross, but little girl screaming terrified. He’s even had nightmares that they suck his face off if one lands on him

Satoru 5:35 PM you’re my new favorite person 🤣🤣

----

“It’s getting there, you just need to pay attention to your tempo, Ichigo.”

The third year frowns at her hands, as if their lagging is under someone else’s control. You smile at her, squeezing her shoulder gently.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” you tell her kindly. “It’s easy to get wrapped up in how your music makes you feel that you lose sight of little things like your speed or technique.”

“Does that happen to you, when you play, Ms. Nissen?”

An iron curtain drops on the memories of performing that her question pokes at. Instead, you just keep smiling, though it’s lost a little bit of its warmth.

“I don’t play too much anymore, but yes. If my heart is driving me to play, even I lose sight of my tempo,” you reply as you stand up from your perch by her keyboard station. You glance around the room, pleased to see that some of the girls have started to get a head start on cleaning the room after their check-in.

“Great job, all of you,” you say loudly over the low cacophony of music. “Don’t forget that your reports on your chosen pieces are due tomorrow at the start of class.”

With that, the girls go about their daily chore while you collect your things from the podium in the corner. As expected, you see that you have a string of messages from Satoru, which makes you smile a little, despite your best efforts.

Satoru 2:02 PM what made you want to be a music teacher?

Satoru 2:03 PM and why do you have sound proofing in your apartment?

Satoru 2:10 PM i’ve been to the states a few times. where did you live while you were there??

The last few days followed this pattern of intermittent texts from a perpetually curious Satoru, his questions rarely relating to each other as he fires them off during school hours. You understand his students’ dismissive attitude about his authority over them, especially if he’s on his phone most of the time.

You 3:11 PM I’m surprised you haven’t coerced Kento to tell you all of that 🙄

Your warning shot of the moth story did its job, bringing your cousin to his knees for forgiveness after Satoru released a few dozen moths in one of the classrooms while locking Kento inside. The pair of you reached a truce, agreeing to have dinner again this Saturday, without Satoru.

Satoru 3:12 PM he’s still not talking to me 😅

You 3:13 PM I always had a thing for music, since I was really little. My parents decided to capitalize on it and got me all kinds of private lessons… piano, cello, violin, voice, etc. When I decided to stop performing, I didn’t want to leave it totally behind, so I decided to teach.

Satoru 3:16 PM how did you avoid using your technique? it had to have shown up by then

You 3:17 PM Kento would teach me bits and pieces of jujutsu when I visited over the summers, but before he even started going to Jujutsu Tech, all my feelings and intentions were directed inward, rather than to my audience

You slip your phone into your backpack and put on your helmet. There is plenty about jujutsu that you don’t understand, and you wonder if anyone truly does, but you’re still grateful for Kento and Yaga. Without either of them, you’d have drowned in your own self-loathing.

It occurs to you that you haven’t seen Yaga in awhile, so you decide to pay your respects soon. Maybe he would have some tips on how to manage a certain snowy-topped idiot.

After locking up your bike, you drop your things on the couch and head straight upstairs to your bathroom. A hot shower sounds blissful, as opposed to finding out what other questions Satoru has in store for you.

The steaming spray soothes your tense shoulders as you consider the chessboard of conversation in your head. You’re used to answering personal questions with the bare minimum information needed, but Satoru isn’t your average pedestrian poking around. Besides, it doesn’t escape you that you’ve played the trust card, only to be a perfect hypocrite in terms of honesty.

You sigh as you work shampoo into your hair. The simplest solution is to acknowledge that there are things you aren’t ready to talk about, which is always so much easier said than done. A coil of anxiety tightens in your stomach but you dismiss it.

As you dry off, you make a mental note to dye your hair again soon. The color is fading a little too close to silver for your liking, and the last thing you need is for Satoru to start saying that you’re trying to steal his look.

Dressed in only boybriefs and an oversized sweater, you pad back down the stairs to fish your phone out of your backpack.

Satoru 3:29 PM what’s with the sound proofing then?

Satoru 3:43 PM did you die? do i need to come do a wellness check? 😱

You roll your eyes as you plop onto your sofa.

You 4:03 PM I didn’t die. I got home and showered, and didn’t feel like bringing my phone along

You 4:03 PM I put up the tiles to dampen any sounds I might accidentally make at home. Sometimes I start singing along to my Spotify, or hum while I bake. It’s just for my neighbors, really.

Checking work emails keeps you from watching his typing bubble from bouncing. There’s an upcoming faculty meeting that you pray has nothing to do with the school festival that’s coming up in a couple months. Last year, the girls in your class tried to convince you to perform in their faculty talent show — to the point that you had to dodge them in the halls in case they tried to use the power of their puppy-dog eyes.

Satoru 4:06 PM ooo… i bet you smell amazing. should have invited me to join 😏😏

You 4:06 PM Why’s that?

Satoru 4:07 PM i could have helped you wash up the hard to reach spots! instead, i’m just daydreaming about it instead of training the kids

You 4:08 PM Somehow I doubt me in the shower is what’s really preventing you from doing your job

Satoru 4:09 PM why are you so mean to me??? 😭

You 4:09 PM I’m not mean. I’m honest 😇

Satoru 4:10 PM i don’t believe you’re an angel for one second. no self-respecting angel rides around in tight pants and a leather jacket on a motorcycle, especially not one with a voice as pretty as yours

You 4:11 PM Please stop before you dig yourself into a deep chauvinistic hole that you have no hope of getting out of

Satoru 4:13 PM siiiiigh. fair point. so, where in the states did you live?

You 4:14 PM New York City. My dad works on Wall Street at an investment firm. Have you ever been?

Satoru 4:15 PM nah, i’ve only been to California and Hawaii. nyc seems cool though. did you like it?

You 4:15 PM I guess… I was a kid when I lived there. I moved to Japan when I was 15, so I think I missed out on all the really cool things that New York has to offer

Satoru 4:16 PM we should go together then!! you can show me around 🤗

The idea of playing tour guide to Satoru makes you smile but also makes you shudder. He strikes you as the kind of sucker who goes to all the tourist traps purely because that’s where everyone goes. Him in Times Square? Fuck that.

You 4:21 PM Hmm. I don’t come cheap, you know.

Satoru 4:22 PM name your price 😘

You 4:22 PM Do you always offer up blank checks to people you barely know?

Satoru 4:23 PM no, only the breathtakingly beautiful ones

You choke on rice, coughing roughly as you recoil from such a bold compliment.

You 4:26 PM Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you? How do I know that you aren’t just treating me like another conquest?

Satoru 4:29 PM who says you’re a conquest?

You 4:30 PM Don’t act like you don’t literally charm the pants off women whenever you feel the need. There’s no way a man like you doesn’t have a string of fuck-buddies

Satoru 4:31 PM i’m not, i’m asking why you think i see you as a conquest

Satoru 4:31 PM because if you were, i’d have already hit it and quit it

You honestly can’t decide if you’re flattered or more affronted at his honesty. To let yourself cool off, you finish up your dinner and go pour yourself the last of your favorite red blend.

It’s hard to disagree with his logic, the more you let it roll around in your head. You’re just as guilty of doing the same thing, when the dry spells go a little too long for your liking. And you’ve definitely gotten your share of lectures from Kento about being “so reckless” with strangers.

You 4:40 PM That’s fair. I apologize for making assumptions.

Satoru 4:43 PM wow, didn’t expect you to own up to that so quickly 😳

You 4:44 PM Why?

Satoru 4:44 PM getting nanamin to admit he’s wrong is like pulling teeth!!

You smile, knowing how utterly true that statement is.

You 4:46 PM Well, I’m not my cousin… besides, it’s wrong to shame someone for casually hooking up with people when I do the same thing. I’m not interested in being a hypocrite 💁🏻‍♀️

Satoru 4:48 PM glad i’m not flirting with nanamin. that’d be awkward 😳😳

Satoru 4:48 PM ughhh. gotta run and kill some curses.

Satoru 4:49 PM before i forget, your wine is ready! so be set for dinner at 7pm tomorrow night. dress to impress 😉

Beg your pardon? How did getting a nice bottle of wine turn into a dinner date?

You 4:50 PM What the fuck? Can’t you just give me a bottle of wine, like a normal person?

He doesn’t respond, likely because he’s actually doing work, for once. You glare at your phone for another minute before you drain the last of your wine and start updating grades to keep yourself from texting a string of extremely rude curses to the subject of your ire.

It doesn’t escape your notice how he conveniently had to disappear and exorcise curses after dropping that bomb on you, either.

Huffing, you stomp upstairs and into your bedroom. Because, despite it all, you refuse to show up to dinner looking anything less than your best. As the thought settles, a little grin lifts the corners of your lips while you open your walk-in closet and survey the options.

“Time to fight fire with fire.”

[s-horne]

16. National Honor LGBT Elders Day

(please read the tags for triggers)

Steve held Tony’s hand in an almost bruising grip. His arms were shaking slightly and he felt dangerously close to passing out. It was a weird feeling, one that he wasn’t used to having swirling around inside of him. Steve was used to being strong and always being the one in control. It was a strange chance of pace to be the one with trembling knees and beads of sweat dripping down his neck.

“Hey,” Tony said, tugging on Steve’s arm to get his attention. Steve turned to him with a questioning expression, gaze a little hazy. “You can do this.”

“I don’t think I can,” Steve whispered, eyes wide and lips horribly dry. His stomach was churning and he could almost taste his heartbeat.

“You can,” Tony promised, a beautifully sincere smile soft on his face. “I know you can. But you don’t have to. You don’t need to do this if you don’t want to, sweetheart. I mean it; nobody is forcing you. It’s okay.”

Steve took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them again he let his shoulders fall down, shaking himself in an attempt to relax as he set his face into that fierce flash of determination that pretty much personified Captain America.

“I can do this,” Steve said. His tone came out surprisingly confidently and, for a fleeting moment, he really believed himself.

Tony didn’t reply verbally, just squeezed Steve’s hand and smiled at him. With no more time to delay, Steve let Tony’s hand fall and stepped away. Taking another deep breath, Steve turned on his heel and took the final few paces out of the back room and into the main hall. As he walked across the stage, he kept his eyes down in a futile attempt to block out the noise from the overwhelming number of reporters and the bright flashes of a sea of cameras.

All too soon he was standing centre-stage and he blew out a shaky breath, bracing both hands on the podium as he stared out at the faces waiting with anticipation.

“Good afternoon,” he said, voice embarrassingly hoarse. He cut himself off and swallowed thickly, harshly. The words on the note cards in front of him began to swim, blurring into thick black lines that weren’t legible and only made him panic more. The longer he stood there without speaking, the more nervous he started to get. With each passing moment he could feel his heart pounding rapidly, the sound of its beating so loud that he was almost convinced it could be heard echoing around the room.

It was a nightmare. The whole thing was literally a living nightmare for Steve and he was heading down into a spiral. He couldn’t do this; the thoughts swirling in his head were threatening to consume him and bile rose in his throat. He couldn’t. He just wasn’t strong enough.

He turned away and was about to leave when he caught sight of Tony. His beautiful, brave Tony who wasn’t doing anything but standing at the back of the room with a soft smile. He wasn’t doing anything special, but he didn’t need to. Tony was all that Steve needed. When he was at his lowest points and when the ice was doing its best to consume him all over again, it was Tony that got him through. Tony with his joking tone or a cheeky wink, Tony with his cocky smirk and his strong hands. It was for Tony that Steve would do anything.

“When I was a young boy,” Steve said suddenly, his eyes boring into Tony’s and completely ignoring the notecards that they’d all worked so hard on, “it was illegal to be gay. It was illegal, both morally in the eyes of society and lawfully wrong, to love who you fell for regardless of their gender. I mean, we knew gay men – I think everyone in Brooklyn knew a gay person, actually – but it still wasn’t allowed. Growing up, we lived near a bar that they would frequent and we had to deal with the nightly raids from the police and the beatings from the public. The bar got trashed frequently, burnt to the ground once. I remember that because the smoke gave me an asthma attack so bad I had to go to the hospital and Buck nearly went mad with trying to pay the bill. But the beatings were the worst. One man on our block got dragged out of his house late one night and we never saw him again, all because he fell in love with the man across the street.”

Steve swallowed and began to turn the cards over in his hands, running his fingers along the edges of the paper as he got lost in the memories.

“All he did was fall in love and he lost his life. The wrong people found out about him and his partner and that was it. They never got to grow old together. Never got to do anything together. I grew up being told that it was wrong, that being gay was bad. I can’t tell you the number of times that I was told I was going to hell if I so looked at another man. It was everywhere. For a society that condemned being gay, they sure talked about it a fucking lot. I was told it over and over again, told to hide away and pretend that I wasn’t broken.”

Steve sniffed and pressed his lips together, his back subconsciously straightening as his tone began to grow in strength. “But I couldn’t help it; I couldn’t help the way I felt. It was so hard to try and figure out what I felt, what I wanted to do, or who I wanted to be. I was told that I should hate the way other men made me feel, told that I would burn for eternity if I so much as imagined the feel of another man’s lips on mine. I couldn’t tell anyone what I was battling with for fear of being attacked. And it wasn’t even that I would just have been shunned; I may have been out-rightly killed. Even my best friend knowing would have put him in danger for his own life, if he’d have covered up my own sexuality. There were watchers, you know. There were actually people that went into known homosexual hotspots and pretended that they were gay just to catch people out and lead them off to be beaten or threatened. You have no idea what it was like. None of you will ever know, and I hope to God that you don’t have to experience that.”

There was a stunned silence: all chatter had died out and no questions were being shouted forward as the entire room hung on every word falling from Steve’s lips. Steve took a moment to try and breathe and he dropped his gaze down to his notecards to try and get back on track. It didn’t work too well as he was still struggling to read the words that he had thought the cards depicted.

“In the war things were slightly different,” he said, a little lighter, a little less wobbly. “There was a lot less worrying about men sharing a bed when they might die the next day and when they were all in a different country to their wives and girlfriends. It was almost seen as manly to want to hug your comrades, to get that tiny bit of comfort before you sacrificed everything and more. There was nothing remotely feminine or weak about a man that stared down enemy fire with his head held high, even if he went home to another man and got fucked up the ass.”

There was the smallest snort and Steve felt his lips twitch. Of course that was Tony; always the first to break the tension in a room. It did work, though, Steve had to give him that. There was a glimmer of hope shining before Steve and he reached for it.

“But things are different now. There are still people who won’t let others be happy, ones who try to dictate the lives of other people even though it has no bearing on their own lives, but they’re being drowned out. It’s slow and it’s tiny, but it’s there. I don’t want to live a lie anymore. I don’t want to hurt people around me by hiding who I am and projecting years of programming. I’ve spent so many years in the shadows, so many nights pushing people away and spitting on them when I should have been holding them close and letting myself feel.”

Once again, Steve caught Tony’s eyes. Reaching out for that endless comfort, Steve ignored the cameras and the reporters scribbling frantically as he spoke straight from the heart, saying the words he’d always wished he could.

“I don’t want to not be who I am anymore; who I want to be and who I know I am inside. I want to love another man, I want to raise a family with him and be able to walk down the street without fearing for my life or his. I want to pave the way for the next generation, for kids to see and know that this world is a safe place for them to be true to themselves. I’m still working out my own feelings and I don’t want people to have to go through what I did.”

He could feel his throat tightening again, but this time he didn’t feel like he was going to be sick. It was a weird feeling, almost a sort of excitement.

“I tried to force myself to live the life that was accepted by the society that I lived in, but it made me so low that I… I did something that I maybe shouldn’t have done, but something that felt right in the moment. But it did bring me here. It brought me to a world that I can help to change, to a time that needed someone to lead the way. Maybe I’m not the best person for the job and maybe I’ll only make more mistakes by trying.”

Steve broke off and clenched his fists, screwing up the politically-correct and coherent notes still clutched in his hands. He carefully unfurled his fingers as he breathed in and out, relaxing himself until he felt the tension ease out of his forearms, preparing himself for his grand finale.

This was it. This was the moment he’d dreamt of for as long as he could remember. He lifted his chin and looked around the room, pausing to make eye-contact with a lot of reporters so that they could see the truth he was projecting and the confidence he longed to show.

“Thank you all for being here today. My name is Steven Grant Rogers. I am Captain America, and I am gay.”

[thank-you-for-the-vampire-money]

DESPERATE PRAYERS

This is for @caplansteverogers writing disney challenge! <3 I am SO EXCITED!

A/N: I got inspired!  My prompt was the song “GOD help the outcasts” From Hunchback of Notre Dame

Preserum!Steve x plussize!reader

Word count: 1316

Summary: With the recent death of his mother, Steve feels so alone.  He desperately prays for someone to understand and love him like his mother did.

Warnings: this whole thing deals with Christianity and Catholicism, if you have a problem with that this is no the fic for you.  Death, sadness, description of chronic and mental illness, suicidal thoughts and depression, fucked up society.  Again, it’s dark, guys.

(GIFs not mine)

The sound of the alarm clock went off, nearly giving Steve a heart attack.  Almost in a literal sense.  Steve groaned, trying to get up, but fuck his back hurt so badly!  Steve loved sleeping.  It was the closest to death he could get.  But once he woke up, he hated it.  His back would ache, making it hard to breathe, sometimes it would get so bad, the first thing he would do in the morning, was try and stop his asthma attack.  For once, he was lucky and didn’t have to struggle to stay alive that morning.

“c’mon , punk, we both gotta get up,” Bucky yawned, chucking a pillow at Steve’s face

“If you care to remember, Buck, I don’t have a job,” he huffed, trying his best to stretch

“Yeah, but it’s Sunday, I’ve got errands to run and you’ve got 8am Mass,” Buck reminded, grabbing his towel to go shower, “and I found your Rosary!  You left it on the porch,”

A wave of relief washed over Steve as he heard that.  He had a panic attack the other day when he couldn’t find it, nearly landed him in the hospital… again.  His mother had given that to him for his 18th birthday a couple months ago.  She had it specially made for him.  It was the most precious and prized possession he had… the only he had left of his mother other than a few pictures.

Sarah also gave Steve her wedding ring, in hopes that he could give it to the love of his life.  He scoffed at the idea of someone loving him enough to marry him.

Steve walked down the street, pulling his hat down father over his ears and his scarf over his nose.  Why did New York have to be so fucking cold?!

He did his best to ignore all the hateful posters hung around the streets.  For the most part, he was able to ignore the stupid sterilization and euthanasia posters, but there was one, hung in the window of the building right across his church.

Some people were born to be a burden to others

That one always hurt him.  Maybe it wasn’t something he could fix, or work himself out of… maybe he truly was just a burden.

He was always causing his mother stress; she worked all day then had to take care of him all night.  And there was Buck… Bucky was always getting him out of trouble, making him work all day, taking up his time, resources… Buck can’t even go out a full night with him there.

Steve knelt at the altar, clutching his Rosary in his fists, his knuckles turning white.  He recited the prayers he had so diligently emerized, tears running down his face.  Very rarely had he ever prayed so hard.  He had only ever done this when he first found out about why his father was no longer with him, when he met Bucky, and when his mother had died...

“Lead all s-souls.. I-into… into hea-heaven… especial-ly tho-ose who nee-ed thy m-mercy..” Steve quivered, one word away from breaking down.  Holding back his heaving tears was irritating his lungs and the bad feeling in his heart made his chest hurt.  Keeling made his back hurt and his nerves were getting to him as his hands shook.

With a loud cry of hurt, he fell to his face in reverence.  “Please, I know you’re up there and I hope you’ll listen to someone like me…” Steve cried, his face turning red as he started hiccuping and wheezing.  “I’ve been told my whole life I was worthless, that I should kill myself… Ever since I was barely in kindergarten I was told that.  My mother was told to get rid of me, to abandon me and live her life… But she never did.

“She was the only one who loved me and she told me you loved me too… so I’m begging you, please… please please please… I just need someone like her in my life again… someone who will love and understand me…”.

Steve was sobbing and crying to hard he had given himself an asthma attack.  He was gasping and gagging, but nothing was entering his lungs.  He panicked, dropping his Rosary to frantically search through his pockets for one of his special cigarettes.  He found one, but- “SHIT!” he gasped, finding that he had left his lighter back at the apartment.

After a minute, he began to feel faint, lying down on the floor as he accepted his doom.  His already horrible vision went dark as he felt himself slipping.  He reached over, he was going to die, he was going to die holding the memory of his mother.  He couldn’t even feel his fingers (not that he could in any other circumstance), let alone the beads.

“C’mon, c’mon…” a soft, muffled voice called, sitting him up and placing the cigarette by his lips.  Was this an angel?  Was he gonna wake up dead?

The soft glow of a lighter caught his attention as the cigarette was being lit for him.  He exhaled whatever little air was in his lungs, took the deepest breath he could.  He held it for a few seconds until his vision cleared… sort of.  Then he exhaled through his nose.  

Well… he wasn’t dead… he wasn’t sure if he was thankful or upset about that.

“Are you okay?” the lady who helped him asked.

Well he may not have died, but he was definitely saved by an angel.  She was tall, her figure full, bigger than other girls.  But her smile accentuated by rosy, round cheeks, was much kinder than those other girls’ too.  Her hands were careful and gentle as they touched him, holding his hand gently as he tried to get his breathing right.

He nodded softly, taking another breath from the cigarette.  “You saved my life…” he gasped, his face flushing.  He wasn’t sure if he was turning red because of the pretty girl who was willing to save his life… or the fact that he just went two minutes without oxygen.

“Yeah?” she hummed, “why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, I mean… I would figure no one would want to save save a crazy asthmatic,” he sniffed, wiping the tear stains off his cheeks, “it would be one less flaw in the gene pool,”

“Maybe someone would want to save a crazy asthmatic… if they were one too,” she smiled, helping sit up against the wall to support his back.

“Y-you’re… you’re asthmatic too?” he asked, looking up at her

She nodded with a kind smile on her face.  “And even if I wasn’t, I would still save you; you’re a human being with worth,” she said, standing up to get the Rosary he had dropped.

“I’m not worth anything…” he sighed, pulling his knees to his chest, starting to cry again.

“DON’T SAY THAT!” she shouted at him, “you are a living, breathing human being, with a heart and soul… you are priceless,”.

“How can you say that, you don’t even know me,” he countered, looking up at her.  He almost felt angry.  Was thing some cruel joke?  Was she going to make a sick punchline about this?

“I don’t have to know you.  I can love a human for who they are…” she said, sitting back down with him.  “I’m (Y/N), by the way,” she smiled, holding out her hand.

“Steven,” Steve smiled back, wiping away his last tear as he shook her outstretched hands.

“Oof!  You’re hands are cold!” (Y/N) giggled

“Sorry… there always like that,” Steve blushed in embarrassment.

“If you’re hands are this cold, you must be miserable out in the November air,” she hummed, seeing the snow build up on the stained glass windows, “do you want me to walk you home?”

Steve smiled brightly.  “Yeah… yeah, I’d love that,”

TAGLIST:

@paranoid-borderline-insane @buckyshattergirl @bitchy-tacos @httpmcrvel

[goblinkind]

puzzleleafs replied to your post

“I’m probably gonna hit post limit soon but in the meantime please send...”

Oooh what's rehearsal of?

It’s for a show called The Kids Are Not Alright: a Punk Musical. It’s written and directed by my straight friend Haley. Here’s a brief summary:

Ash, a closeted lesbian, and Erin, her straight best friend, attend their high school graduation party. They are both punks. They sing a song that goes “the bitches are off the damn leash.” The song is about feminism. (They are SWERFS radfems feminists.) They are glaring at two other female characters as they sing because the other two female characters are “basic” (not punk).

Someone yells “party at the beach!” and everyone has to sing the word “yeah” a bunch of times.

Erin and Ash fondly remember an instance in which a drunk Ash was “aggressively flirting with” Erin. After vowing to kick anyone who catcalls them in the balls, they decide to leave the party.

Next it’s orientation day and Erin helps Ash move into the dorms. A (pastel?) goth named Tori walks by, catching Ash’s attention. Erin is amused. “No closets to hide in here, babe.” This earns them both a glare from a random student who is supposed to represent homophobia. Ash and Erin say goodbye. Erin is not going to college.

Inevitably, the first day of school comes. Ash is late. The professor is lecturing everyone about safe sex. It’s boring. Ash, Tori and company sing a song called “Fuck It” about how miserable they are. The bell rings. Class is over. Everyone leaves except Ash and Tori. Tori introduces herself to Ash and the two immediately begin to flirt. Tori is a nursing studies major.  She remarks that Ash isn’t “nearly as much of a dick as [she] tr[ies] to appear to everyone,” despite having seen Ash a mere two times and never having spoken to her until this moment. Ash makes a Sex Pistols reference and Tori understands it. Ash grows excited. “It’s hard to find girls into punk.” Tori informs her that “you just gotta know where to look.” The scene ends with Tori giving Ash her number and the professor kicking them both out of the empty classroom.

Now, back to Erin. She’s desperately trying to reach Ash, who evidently has been ignoring all of her best friend’s calls. We find out that a month has passed.

A pimp and some prostitutes show up. The pimp tries to recruit Erin while, in the background, the prostitutes talk to potential clients. One of the would-be clients is referred to only as “the man.” He decides to rescue Erin. “Leave her alone, you fucking pervert!” The pimp pulls a gun on him but the man easily disarms him. “I suggest you find a different corner.” The pimp runs away, gesturing for the prostitutes (and the one client they managed to secure) to follow him. The man pockets the pimp’s gun.

Once everyone else is gone, the man immediately asks Erin if she wants to stay with him and “figure things out in the morning.” She agrees without hesitation. He brings her back to his apartment. The prostitutes from the last scene are now furniture (a fridge, a cabinet and a lamp). Erin showers while the man does some cocaine. He sings a cocaine song. Erin returns wearing one of the man’s oversized T-shirts and he immediately starts coming onto her. “You’re really pretty… you probably get that a lot.” Erin reciprocates and the scene ends with them cuddling.

Back to Ash’s story. Ash and Tori are now dating. It’s the November 2016 election. Ash and Tori are upset because they are gay and gay people don’t like it when people who think they shouldn’t exist are elected as vice president. Ash smokes weed. She invites Tori to join her for what is implied to be the umpteenth time. Tori has asthma and says no. Ash wonders if they’ll have to go back into the closet if Trump wins. Then she sings a song called “Ask the Gays.” The first line is “I’m not a basic bitch.” The second line is “pricks say I’m Satan’s bitch.” Then she talks about fucking the system for a little while because she’s a punk. Tori accuses her of being all talk. They check the election results to find that Trump has won. Their jaws drop and they sing the word “destroy” in unison.

CONTENT WARNING: abuse (emotional, sexual and physical); rape.

Meanwhile, the man, who is a drug dealer, has convinced Erin to let his customers have sex with her so that he can make more money. In return, Erin does not have to pay for rent, food or clothes. We hear Erin’s sobs as a customer leaves her bedroom. The man asks how Erin was and the customer complains that she was too loud and “could at least fake it.” He pays the man and says “use some of that to buy a muzzle for your bitch.”

The man calls out to Erin and she emerges, still sobbing. He hugs her, gives her some cocaine and promises to take care of her. Erin begs him not to make her do it again and he grows angry, reminding her that, were it not for him, she would have nowhere to stay. He yells at the top of his lungs, calling her a “stupid girl” and a “cunt.” He leaves for a few seconds before returning to apologize. Erin apologizes as well (“It’s my fault; I was too pushy!”) and the two go to bed together.

Back at college, Tori is studying quietly in her room. Ash shows up and excitedly describes to Tori how she graffitied “FUCK NAZIS. FUCK TRUMP” on the wall of the school library. When Tori doesn’t laugh, Ash grows confused. Tori tells Ash that that was a stupid thing and that Ash is going to get expelled. Ash runs away.

Ash gets expelled.

She decides to give Erin a call and ask if she can stay with her. Erin isn’t there. Tori calls Ash and breaks up with her to the tune of “Should I Stay or Should I Go” by the Clash. Ash says the word “fuck” a bunch of times.

CONTENT WARNING: attempted suicide.

Erin, who is now homeless, shows up. Ash doesn’t see her and she doesn’t see ash. Both women contemplate suicide. Ash decides against it but Erin tries to jump off a bridge.

Weeks pass. Ash has her own apartment now. While on her way back from Wal-Mart, she trips over Erin, who is still alive and still homeless. She tries to help her but Erin is not quite herself because she ate too much cocaine or something. Ash literally has to drag Erin back to her apartment.

When they get there, Erin sings a song about all the terrible things that had happened to her since she last saw Ash. Ash calls Tori and asks her to come help her take care of Erin. Tori agrees. At first, Erin cooperates with Tori, but then she starts singing about how Ash and Tori only view her as a charity case. She attacks Ash with a (ceramic) bowl and flees to the man’s apartment.

CONTENT WARNING: murder, suicide; gun violence.

The man isn’t there, but the gun that used to belong to the pimp is. Erin finds it and is about to shoot herself when Ash enters and Erin shoots her instead. Ash dies. Erin panics.

Tori shows up and Erin aims the gun at her, threatening to kill her too. Tori asks Erin to give her the gun but Erin kills herself with it instead. Tori screams.

The band performs “The Kids Aren’t Alright” by the Offspring. Curtain call.

I have a lot of opinions about this show. Very few of them are positive.

[americangirlca10]

A big reveal (Pullip fic)

“Hey Jack, any idea why we’re here? I’ve only met the Ciel kid a couple of times so I’m not sure why he’d want me here.”

“No idea. I mean, i knew the Phantomhive kids years ago though. I think it was before their parents died.”

“I’m not really sure why brother decided to throw a party for Kei but I’m really excited! Aren’t you, Alois?”

“Yep....Super excited...”

“I still can’t believe you started learning fortune telling spells.”

“And I’m pretty damn upset it hasn’t come true yet.”

“Skylar, did Sebastian plan all this? Last time i was at a party this big, Sebastian proposed to me.”

“Of course not! I’d know about it if he did.”

“Sebastian, what’s that racket downstairs?”

“I believe it is the party you planned, sir. Miss Kaitlyn told you that the both of you planned a party to celebrate Funtom’s new blue candy. I am confused as to why you did that but i assume you needed my assistance in something behind the scenes?”

“What the hell? I don’t hold parties for new candies and i sure as hell wouldn’t make some random blue ca-”

“You won’t tell anyone about that blue candy in my tummy, right?” 

“Blue candy.....The sky and stars reuniting....N-no...”

“Sebastian, we need to get down there NOW!”

“What the hell are you all doing in this manor!??!?!”

“I know you’re a jerk but coming up to my door with an invitation then asking why I’m here is pretty bad.”

“Brother, Kei told you planned this to celebrate her becoming a maid here.”

“I just came to laugh and point how this party isn’t nearly as cool as mine.”

“You said you’d finally explain why you needed my help all those years ago.”

“I never said....any of that...What???”

“Careful~ You wouldn’t want to get so stressed that you end up in an asthmatic fit~”

“What the hell....” 

“Are you kidding me?” *both gasp*

“How is this possible?”

“Why don’t you just relax and tell them that you’ve been a very bad boy?” 

“Y-Y-You c-can’t be real...” *drops to his knees*

“What? Oh, but i am real.”

“It is i, Ciel Phantomhive!”

“T-Two b-brothers?”

“What the hell is this!? Are one of you kids a clone!?”

“No, there’s no clones here.”

“This boy is the real Ciel Phantomhive. The oldest child in the Phantomhive family.”

“This here is my dearest little twin brother, Astre.”

“Why don’t you tell everyone why you were a bad boy in pretending to be your big brother, hm?” 

“I-I....I....N-No o-one would believe me i-if i was the o-one who survived....F-Father would have l-left me nothing..”

“I don’t know French too well, but doesn’t Ciel mean sky and Astre mean star?” 

“Well, there ya go. Your prediction came true.”

“You mean you guys didn’t know that Ciel and Astre were twins?”

“A-Astre a-and C-Ciel...?” 

“I had....I had two brothers...?”

*faints*

“I’m sorry Cecilia....It had to be done this way...”

“So, you thought that father wouldn’t make you the Earl of Phantomhive because you were a sickly little boy? I don’t believe that.”

“Sir, your body is in too much stress right now to deal with this. Let us leave this room so you can-”

“NO! STAY AWAY FROM HIM! I won’t let you corrupt my brother anymore you damned demon!”

“Did you know about Ciel having a twin brother!?” 

“Yes but he was dead and made me swear never to tell anyone that he had a twin. I did not even know that he was actually Astre either...”

“He wasn’t dead. Me and Claude found him clinging to life.”

“And i healed him after your demon didn’t really do too good a job.”

“Come now, Astre. Just tell everyone that you betrayed me and give me back my title as Earl of Phantomhive.”

“N-No...”

“While you were sitting by waiting to humiliate me- I saved cecilia, I got revenge for our parents, I killed everyone in that damn cult and i made a toy company in London like i told you i would!!!”

“You’re being silly, Astre. No one asked you to get revenge. Don’t you remember what father used to say about it?” 

“No! You don’t even understand who it was!!!”

“I was reborn that day, i became strong and confident like you are! I named myself Ciel that day because I knew that was the name of the strongest person i know, and guess what? I AM Ciel Phantomhive! I pulled myself together and pushed myself to become better than you and...and ffaa.....father...” *wheezing*

*faints*

“Master!!!” *picks up Ciel* 

“Is he alright?” 

“He fainted from the shock like Lady Cecilia, and it seems he was on the verge of a asthma attack.” 

“Put my brother down!!! You’re going to eat him and leave me all alone!!” 

“Sir, not right now! You’ve already done too much, don’t overwhelm the situation!” *holding him back*

“As the real Ciel Phantomhive, i demand you put my brother down NOW.”

“You may think you can kill me or get rid of me, but you will not. I would never harm my master, why do you think he is still alive after our contract completed? I follow orders of the Ciel Phantomhive that ”

“I have feelings just as you do. I had no idea they were going to kill someone to summon me, i just felt the blood drip onto my summoning circle and came from other’s calling for me.”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell anyone!? Don’t you know what the hell this means for literally everyone!?”

“Stella, Sebastian is your happiness right? Ciel is mine. I love him the same way you love Violet, Mason and Noir!”

“I’m sorry i couldn’t tell you who i was then, Alois. I had just escaped human trafficking and a crazy cult, i didn’t trust anyone.”

“I mean....I-It’s fine....yeah...” 

“Did you know that Ciel...or Astre...or whatever, was pretending to be his brother the whole time?” 

“Yeah. Ciel actually likes talking to people and isn’t a huge jerk.” 

“How come you didn’t say anything?”

“Also i mean....I’ve got some secrets too.”

“You’re telling me you can predict the future, swap bodies with other people, come up with creative ways to kill people AND make visual illusions but you didn’t know Ciel had a twin?” 

“I said I’m brilliant in magic, not figuring out someone i met once has an identical twin.”

“Ahem, i apologize everyone for inviting you all here for something like this. I understand many of you have busy lives and feel a bit stressed now knowing that the boy you knew as Ciel is a liar.” 

“You all can go home and i promise that the next party that i, Ciel Phantomhive, host will have a lot less grief.”

“Come on, Kei. We’re going to go check on Astre and Cecilia.” 

“Yes, sir!”

-END-

THIS ONE IS SO LONG AAAHHH SORRY

there was just so much i needed to put here that i couldn’t make this a 2-parter! I’m so proud of how this is turning out too aahh <3