#i'm fucking shaking that last minute was probably the best scene so far

[rosiesmuts]

The Temptations of Jennie Kim

BLACKPINK Jennie

Words: 4,000

A/N: Boo! 👻

Jennie Kim is a pure unadulterated bitch.

Obstacle one is making it past the bouncer; having your name on the guest list makes that an easy task. Obstacle two is the sea of people; a VIP wristband solves that little inconvenience. Your expected prize for completing these side quests is a night of dancing, ending with divulging in the salacious body of a world famous idol. The light at the end of the tunnel is anything but. Obstacle three is something you couldn't see coming. That world famous idol has already found her seat, only it's on the lap of another man.

Your mind goes a million miles a minute trying to figure out a plan:

1) 'I should go up and confront her.' No, causing a scene wouldn't be good for anyone.

2) 'Fuck this I should just go home.' No, I can't let her just win so easily.

3) 'Fuck it, I'm already here, might as well grab a drink.' I guess this is the winner.

Probably not the best plan, but the one you've chosen.

"Don't tell me you're obsessed over her too."

An unfamiliar voice. Your eyes follow the voice, finding yourself face to face with a beautiful woman. It shouldn't be a surprise, this club is crawling with them. Too busy wallowing in your pity to notice her join your table and too late now to do anything about it.

"Huh?" Admittedly not the most suave response, but it's the one that comes blurting out.

"Jennie. Half the guys here are just sitting here staring at her, what's so special about her anyway?"

"Are you really surprised? BLACKPINK is a pretty big deal. Besides I want staring I was just-"

"Look at yourself, you're even sneaking in little peeks while talking to me."

Her hand is placed under your chin, forcing you to finally take a good look at her. You start to speak but she cuts you off.

"What’re you drinking?"

"Whiskey."

It's rare to see a woman take control. And here you were, sitting face to face with one. She flags someone down and orders you a fresh drink.

"What's your name?" You regret your lame choice of ice breaker the moment it's said out loud.

"Unimportant. Let's just have some fun and see where it leads."

Maybe there is a god. So far nothing you've said could be constituted as smooth, yet here she was, still giving you a chance.

Where things led was more surprises: first, a dance. A hot body pressed close and shaking, accompanied by a mind clouding cocktail of scents. Your eyes dart all over her: the glow of the mysterious woman's pale skin under the multicolored lights; her plump lips; her toned midriff.

"Still thinking about Jennie? I think you've got enough room to squeeze me in."

Both her hands come to rest at your hips, gently pushing yours forward and squeezing your body closer to hers. Your eyes lock, the music from the club fades out, and you find yourselves with your noses an inch away. This insanely hot girl, not the one you intended to spend tonight with, but not the worst thing you can think of right now. The tip of her nose brushes yours and her hands push forward one last time, the kiss can only be delayed a second longer.

"What the fuck are you doing?!"

Jennie Kim has some nice timing. Just when you were about to give into this other woman, there was a tug on your shoulder and you're spun around–Jennie Kim's face, contorted with a mixture of anger and jealousy.

"You. Step the fuck back, he's not yours." Jennie shoves her hand out to your impromptu date, but that was apparently not an adequate barrier to keep her away. The girl comes up and wraps around your arm, not allowing Jennie to steal you away.

"He was until you got in my way."

"In case you didn't hear: step the fucking hell away." Jennie is nothing short of livid. People have stopped dancing, staring at the unfolding scene. Your new date notices the attention.

"Fine! He's not worth it anyway." And just like that your new acquaintance storms off, her hips and the smoke trailing from the bottom of her black dress being the last you'll ever see of her.

"Walk. Right. Now." Jennie drags you towards the hallway, likely intent on either berating or maiming you somewhere in private. In any other scenario it would sound like the fantasy of every man in South Korea, but right now you know it's bad.

A private room behind the dancefloor, a much better place to be killed and your corpse dumped than in front of hundreds of witnesses. She shuts the door with a slam hard enough you think it might shatter and locks it with an unnecessarily loud click.

"Who the fuck was that? You've only been here two minutes and you're already on top of another woman?!"

"Hey, hey, fuck you Jennie. Do you know what I saw when I came here? After you invited me? Oh you were totally there, sitting on another man's lap."

"That's not the same."

"Not the same my ass. Can you even begin to explain what it is then? No of course you can't. Because you're a spoiled fucking idol who does whatever the fuck you want."

You turn to leave, but are pulled back and receive a rough slap across the face. There's no pain, only the sudden red color filling up that side of your vision. She did it again. This time it brings with it the burning sensation. A stinging radiates across your cheek, an angry mark that burns more as the adrenaline fades.

Then in almost cliche like fashion you grab her face and slam her into the nearby wall, returning her slap with an aggressive kiss. Jennie doesn't try to pull away, in fact she gives just as much as she receives. If her jealousy made her slap, her frustration makes her kiss harder, her teeth digging in slightly at her efforts.

"Someone is still obsessed with me hmm~?"

"Fuck you." The reply is snarled out through the tears in your teeth.

"Why don't you? Make sure everyone out there knows who you belong to. You weren't even interested in that slut anyway. All you could think about was me."

Any rebuttal was silenced the instant a hand traced the outline of the bulge forming in your jeans. No words need to be said; she's right, there's only her. Her face, her smell, her voice. Jennie bites your collarbone through the shirt to try and get a rise and boy does it. A firm hand groping her behind and pulling her into you, meeting the hardness growing in your jeans. Jennie chuckles, enjoying the reaction.

"Do it. Go ahead."

Jennie fucking Kim. The girl of your dreams. The girl of your nightmares. You've fallen into her trap. What's happening right now can only be described as karma's cruel payback, an attempt to dangle your greatest desire right in front of your nose–before a final humiliating insult is slapped on it.

"You little bitch." Jennie taunts you, unraveling her flirtatious intentions as her skirt rides higher and higher along with your patience. "Go on. Put me through the wall. Pull it out and fuck me as hard as you can."

It would be too easy, wouldn't it? Giving her what she wants after what she did. Instead she's dragged to the couch and bent over you knees. Jennie yelps in surprise, before realizing what's coming to her.

SMACK.

"I didn't say stop." Jennie responds after feeling the forceful slap at her backside.

Another. Jennie cries out, before letting the sweetest sounds come tumbling out of her mouth. Your palm raises once more, pauses, and then swings down and impacts against the exposed skin. A large pink spot forms on the exposed skin as a result and you're starting to think Jennie is actually getting turned on.

"P-please."

"Well since you asked so nicely."

Her panties are brushed to the side and two fingers plunge in and begin exploring without any warning. Jennie squeaks and curls up at the sudden and bold invasion, but it doesn't take long before those two fingers find the sweet spot and stimulate a cascade of pleasurable electricity. In and out they go, aided in their efforts by the squelch of their occupant's excitement. The couch rocks as Jennie arches and bucks wildly, alternating between sporadic whimpers and full on screams of delight.

"I'm so close...so so close..."

Your fingers pull free then another smack against her ass again, interrupting her moment of bliss.

"You think you deserve to cum Jennie? Hmm?"

Jennie answers with an arch to her back, a long, sensual moan that turns into a low pitched growl.

"Yes...Yes...just let me cum please please."

She's grinding at the air, her desperation on full display. You're just a few seconds away from finishing her, of making this cute bitch cry out and go rigid as waves of pleasure radiate all the way from her groin to the rest of her body.

"Feel that pressed against your stomach Jennie? I think you need to suck it. Prove you deserve it."

Her feet meet the ground as she kneels between you legs, and with a final lustful glance, begins to pull away the zipper to your jeans. "You're a real fucker aren't you? Fine, I'll show you."

Down goes your underwear, tossed to the side of the couch, and up Jennie comes with the heaving package in her face. A tiny lick along the bottom of the shaft and then a more robust and adventurous one the entire length. No preamble this time, only the sudden heat and wetness as the girl with a history of petty remarks envelopes your member, coiling her tongue around the sensitive areas and sinking further into your lap.

This girl, Jennie Kim. How can she be so talented at such a crude act? The walls of her mouth shift in a thousand ways as she draws a throaty groan out of you, her tongue expertly knowing all the ways to drive you crazy. This fucking bitch, going deep, purposely drooling all over it, and looking up in satisfaction as she gags and chokes. Up and down she goes, swallowing and sucking back a mouthful every single time she rises. The picture perfect idol, loving nothing more than a throat full of cock, a wide streak of mascara under her eyes and spit all over her face.

The room grows ever hotter, the look in Jennie's eyes begging, imploring for you not to hold back. You sit upright and clutch onto her hair, fingers locking as tight as possible to guide her, taking charge of her bobbing head, sending yourself all the way up to your pelvis. Her arms are limp, her face is a mess, you've reduced a famous singer and model to a panting wreck, and that sight is almost too much.

"Fuck my mouth..." the pleads of the famous superstar when you let her up for air. Her request is granted, her hair gets pulled and the momentum carries your pulsating member all the way to the base. Inch by inch, millimeter by millimeter until the tip of her nose touches the pubic bone and her jaw is stretched as wide as possible, the outline of the member embedded into her throat.

The unholy gags are the hottest fucking thing ever. And the little flutters, her struggle not to cough, the spasms. Jennie Kim, proudest bitch alive. Choking and gagging on your cock, no thoughts in her brain of anything else but to please. She loves it, she wants it. More, more, more, always more, begging with her eyes the only way she could.

With a heavy gasp, you finally let up, letting her burning lungs draw air. While she is a coughing wreck, her face slick with tears and saliva, the thought that fills the forefront of her mind is exactly what's about to happen. The thrill, the idea, the exhilaration, she can't contain the giggling smile.

Jennie was a bad girl, touching herself while you fucked her face, showing off her fingers covered in her own juices and licking them clean. This woman was going to be the end of you, that smirk.

"You and that stupid ass cock." Jennie takes matters into her own hands, straddling your lap, lining up the tip. She's in control, now she'll decide just how far you'll sink into her.

"Dumb fucking whore." Your fingers wrap around her delicate neck. Her eyes widen, not in fear, but in excitement. They darken, her pupils dilating, the clear response to the aggression is reflected in a quickened pulse under the flesh. It isn't surprising the more forceful you get, the wetter she seems to get.

And holy fuck it feels so fucking good, Jennie's lower lips engulfing your tip. The walls of her cavern part and pull you deep within her, her breathing changes pace and volume, whimpering and panting as it sinks in further. She's warm, she's welcoming. Every inch is a bit tighter, the friction causing your heart rate to rise, and her arms, encircling you in a vice grip, coaxing a tighter hold on her throat. You can almost see the lightheaded effect it's having, the subtle shifts in her vision, the dream like daze that accompanies such euphoric sexual bliss.

Up and down Jennie bounces, the tempo of her breathing just a second out of synch, every moan coming just a second later. You don't try to hide your own pleasure either, groaning with a volume only a centimeter away from yelling and definitely noticeable beyond the walls. With a firm slap to the ass, her pussy responds in the best possible way; squeezing tightly for a moment and sending a pleasant shiver down your body.

Jennie fucking Kim. Her tightness, her perky tits, the fucking supermodel and worldwide heartthrob, riding you. That's a story to tell. The sight of this gorgeous bitch bouncing up and down like her life depends on it, the sound of flesh colliding reverberating throughout the room.

Her cries of pleasure come louder, with no sign of the fun ending any time soon. Another thrust and her eyes roll to the top of their sockets. The adorable scrunch in her nose, the contortion of the expression of carnal pleasure, the euphoria right after. The small smirk in the corner of her lips and the grinding of her hips into yours. She's close. Her face gives that away. Her walls pulsate, and if that doesn't sell it the pitch change of the moans certainly do. Her noises shift in timbre. Whines and loud whimpers, the sudden erratic nature.

There's no stopping her now, it's out of your control, and it's fucking beautiful. Jennie fucking Kim, cumming on your lap. Her thighs begin to spasm, a waterfall of juices spilling all the way down to the floor, pooling around your ankles. That fucking face, a cacophony of ecstasy. Then with one final, powerful groan, she suddenly stops. Her eyes shoot open and she curls up, freezing and grinding away. You pull her hair back, forcing the perfect idol to bare her neck and shriek, as her orgasm consumes her senses, her legs thrashing about and toes curled into their arches. Jennie fucking Kim came, her face red and a smile creeping upon the ends of her lips.

It's not over, not even close. Jennie's face a mask of desire, her breathing deep, still needing more, the short, panting breaths catching the tiny pieces of her hair waving across her face.

"Fuck me like you mean it." Jennie goads you on. Your hands wrap around her tiny waist, fingers digging into her flesh, and you start thrusting. Up into her body, down into her lap, each of her downward drops meeting a upward thrust, your hips meeting hers halfway. In no time her squeaky noises are echoing against the walls, your pelvic bones colliding hard, both of your bodies jerking about as you throw everything into each pump. Her eyes turn dark, a drunken gaze. Fuck yes, those lips curling back into a naughty, crazed smile.

"You can't fucking resist it can you?" Jennie screams the question, feeling your hands force her up and slam her back down with your hips surging forward. Her whole body lurching backwards from the impact and then snapping forward from the following motion. Another one, the smack of flesh meeting flesh resounding once more and the squirt of liquids spraying the air and wetting the sides of the couch. Jennie no longer cares, letting her body get fucked and then roughly jammed downwards and impaling herself repeatedly, filling the room with the loud slaps.

"You're nothing but a fucking whore aren't you?" You say it directly to her face and as expected the deprecating talk turns her on like nothing else. A genuine laugh followed by a growl and a "you want this tight pussy all for yourself?"

And another smack, a spank and a squeeze of her delicate ass. Her neck tilts backwards. Yes! Look into those deep pools, her gorgeous, intense stare. Losing control, that face, her mouth, it's open and wet and covered in saliva. That cute kittenish tongue sticking out of the edge of her lips.

Another thrust. Jennie's body flies forward from the impact, a lustful grin stuck on her face, burying your face in her small tits. Her chest jiggles with each pounding, a single moment of freedom followed by an instant of being engulfed in their softness. Those perfect mounds of flesh, enough to drive any sane man or woman mad with obsession, bouncing inches from your eyes, sweat coating their supple surface. Her giggle erupts and she sees that dumb smile plastered all over your face. Her nose rubs against your own. The stare is intense.

"We really fucking hate each other huh?" Jennie teases then goes in for a kiss. A sloppy, messy affair, her nails dig into your back, leaving a series of scratches as her pussy tightens around the engorged member within her. She's cumming again, the contractions drawing out another series of grunts.

"That's right, keep your dumb cock buried inside, you fucking love this tight pussy."

Oh how far this idol has fallen, the foulest mouth coming out the prettiest lips. Then she whispers in your ears to hold her hips tighter and fuck her harder, and fuck did you deliver. Her throaty groans filling your ears, a crescendo and a rapid beating pulse under your palms. You're close, this little superstar making sure you're as deep as you can be and clinging for dear life.

Jennie's hands wrap around your throat, squeezing, choking the life out of you, your vision blurring, and at the same time she's squirting a second wave and shaking violently. Her hips never stop moving, fucking herself silly. She doesn't stop, the nasty smirk has returned and a mumbled string of 'fuck fuck fuck' under her breath.

Jennie fucks you. Those perfect abs, her slim body, the smell of sex radiates all throughout. You're getting lightheaded, this cute piece of ass a violent whirl of raven hair and painful grip. The harder she orgasms, the harder she squeezes your neck. Then, stars start filling your field of vision and your vision goes white, the pulses start firing. Sick sadistic oxygen depravation brings one of the hardest orgasms in your life. That twisted smirk of the psychotic woman, the evil in her gaze as the heat fills the pit of her belly. She feels it, your load splashing inside of her womb. As you release, so do her fingers, the blood rushing back to your brain not a moment too soon.

Her expression, oh how proud she is for her conquest. You couldn't look anywhere else, this perfect devil in front of your eyes. The cute, tingly and erotic feeling flowing from your groin, it never stops and only grows, the continuous shots, emptying everything you have into her. This little fucking bitch, controlling you until the very end.

Jennie fucking Kim sits satisfied as you gasp for air, a mixture of confusion, satisfaction, and pleasure overwhelming your body. That beautiful little smirk, her hips rolling about, enjoying your final twitches before everything softens.

"See, now tell me that wasn't worth the wait."

Jennie collapses forward, a content sigh, a murmur in your ear about how her body feels. Your legs and feet tingle, a sort of numbness and buzz from the powerful waves of euphoria. Jennie stretches like a cat, all while nuzzling against your neck.

She leans in for a kiss, soft, gentle, uncharacteristically kind. Fingers thread into her hair, your palm resting against the side of her neck. She's warm, and tired, the once energetic and brash girl now settling down, almost vulnerable.

"You know why I keep coming back to you?" Jennie seems almost kind, running her hands through your hair and looking at you with loving eyes.

"Must be my big cock." You tease her, pinching her bum, and stealing another kiss in the process.

"Of course you can't be serious for a single fucking minute." Jennie shoves her shoulder against yours. "No you idiot. When we fuck, it's so fucking good. And look at you. Trying to act all tough, but when I tell you to fuck me harder you do just that. And when I tell you just like that you don't change pace for a moment."

The affection, her soft words. Jennie Kim loves to act hard, to show herself off. There's the world's most famous pop star, snuggled into your shoulder. Her finger tracing along the outline of your chin, the last few beads of sweat dripping down her forehead and her eyelashes. Jennie almost looks sweet, smiling down upon you. That signature gummy smile, the tiny dimple on one side. How can someone so rough, have such a charming side?

"Give me your jacket fucker."

Now this, this was much more of a Jennie thing to say. What a cute and silly request after something as passionate as what the two of you did. Jennie's sweat soaked body. Your brain is a fog, still lost in the moment, struggling to take the demand seriously, still looking at those flawless thighs, now tinged pink.

"I can't leave this place looking like this. You're taking me home. Don't think I'm done with you yet." The look in her eyes, that mischievous glimmer. A girl bent on devouring you. Her knee pressed against your crotch drives you back into reality. "Did you not get the fucking memo? Hurry the fuck up."

There is no shortage of nerve in this girl, and fuck if her confidence and commanding tone isn't doing anything for the part of your brain in charge of desire. If anything, you know she's not exaggerating, she still isn't fucking done. Not by a long shot.

It'll be another long night, the same pattern of anger and lust. Spoiled fucking idol Jennie Kim, turning you into a fucking puppet. Letting you do the strangest things to her in the middle of the night. That bitch. That perfect little devil.

And you wouldn't have it any other way...

[short-honey-badger]

Peppermint Tea 28 - Lavender 9

Thank you to the lovely @headcaasefiction for helping me out!

So. This will probably be my last chapter for a hot minute. I've not been able to work on my stuff how I like to lately. So I have unfortunately fallen behind, and I would really love to do my best with the last half of Peppermint Tea. However, I have made this pretty long as an apology. ❤️❤️

Its been a wild ride so far! I hope you enjoy!

Warnings! Not many? Pregnancy stuff is mentioned. We finally get a couple of confessions, but that doesn't mean it turns out good. Angst happens.

Masterlist

You watch in awe, eyes large and sparkling in fascination as your brother parries his opponent, knocking their arm away with a swat of his hand. His body turned to dust and dropped low to avoid the blow to the chest that would have surely happened. He comes back up with a vicious swing, his knuckles smashing into the other boy's jaw and busting their lips. Blood drips down their chin as they wheel back, lips pulling back to show white teeth stained red.

Your brother goes back in, sending another two blows to the boy who had shoved you to the ground and called you some mean name that you can't even remember now. He is red in the face, his white hair a mess, and rage glowing in his green eyes.

“Stay the fuck away from my sister,” your brother snarls in the redhead’s face and shoves him away for good measure, “Get the hell outta here, Jax.”

The redhead sneers and spits at the prince. He turns and limps down the alleyway, a sneer on his face, “This ain't over, Princess.”

Your brother rolls his eyes and then dusts himself off as he turns back to his little sister, lips twisting into a smirk, “You okay, Sunshine?”

You grin and fling yourself into your brother's arms, “I'm fine! Not even a scratch. Can you teach me how to fight like that?”

Your brother laughs, green eyes alight with mirth, “Sure. When you're old enough not to need an afternoon nap.”

You pout, thumping him on the chest, “Ugh. You say that every time.”

“Sunshine. You'll be asleep before we even get back home,” He points out and scoops you up, over his shoulder, grinning when you let out a delighted laugh. You argue that you most definitely won't fall asleep, and to his surprise, you don't. Your brother carts you all the way to your bedroom where he plops you on the bed. You bounce with a giggle and then attack him, jabbing at his ribs and armpits with a grin.

It lasts until he gets the upper hand and tickles his baby sister until you're red in the face and gasping for oxygen, begging for uncle. He pulls you in a headlock, kissing the top of your head with fondness.

“You know I'll always protect you, right?”

You nod, turning around to hug your brother as tightly as you can, “Of course I do! You're my big brother, Tomura!”

The scene changes suddenly, and you can hear the sounds of screams and vile laughter echoing all around you. Watching your home burn has become a familiar sight, but it still leaves you shaking in fear. Tomura runs as fast as he can, legs nothing but a literal cloud of dust as he skids around corners and runs down alleyways to get to the docks.

Another turn, and you know what's coming up. Tomura begs you not to look, but your eyes land on the tall figure anyway, wide-brimmed hat and white feather filling your vision until the next alleyway breaks your line of sight.

Tomura drops you to the deck, and you scramble up to help him pull the rigging and open the sails. Snow falls all around you, but your brother is there to help when you need it, and soon, the two of you are out in the open sea. Everything is okay for a while, and then the side of your boat exploding into splinters has you screaming in fear. Another shot is missed, sending freezing sea water over you and Tomura. The saltwater feels paralyzing, the devil fruit snarling at having been drenched.

The ship on the port side suddenly implodes, wood scattering everywhere and sending the Big Mom pirates to water graves. The same thing happens to the two ships on your starboard, and you look out into the raging seas and finally catch sight of that big white feather that blows in the winds before it disappears behind the rising waves.

-----

You jerk awake with a gasp, eyes wide and chest heaving. You can still hear the boy's name ringing in your head. Tomura Tomura Tomura. That was your brother's name. How could you have ever forgotten his name? Someone so near and dear to your heart. The one who had saved you from the destruction of your home. Why are you remembering now when you've been having these dreams for over a year? Why can you still recall his name? What he looks like.

You are so in your head, thoughts racing as you try and fail to pull up any memories of your past, that you don't notice the two men looking at you in concern. You have sat up, hand over your mouth and eyes wide like you've just seen a ghost. Shanks and Mihawk share a look of concern, and then the redhead carefully reaches out to touch your shoulder.

“You okay, Angel?” He asks, and the sudden touch and noise have you jumping out of your skin.

You whip around, turning to sit on your knees on the bed and look at your boys. They look worried, and you can't blame them. You probably look crazy, but it feels like a puzzle piece has finally clicked into place, and you can't just keep it to yourself.

“I have a brother. I-I think his name is Tomura. He's got white hair and green eyes, and he's the one who brought me here.”

This is definitely not what either man had expected you to say. Shanks looks a little confused but accepting, but Mihawk looks pale, yellow eyes wide with a hint of panic behind them before he expertly schools his features. The redhead glances over at the warlord and quickly switches to damage control. This wasn't the time for that talk.

“Do you remember anything else, Sweetheart?” He asks and smooths his hand up and into your hair. The name Tomura sounds familiar, but he doesn't think he's ever seen the man you are speaking about. To you, your brother would still be nothing but a boy in your memories. He glances at Mihawk, relieved to see that the panic has disappeared, and he looks like his unimpressed self.

“He was older than me, a teenager. He'd be a man now if he's still alive,” you murmur, carefully putting the pieces together. Why can't you remember more? Did something happen to you? Thinking about that makes you feel uneasy, and you curl an arm around your belly protectively.

While you go back and forth with Shanks, telling the redhead of the other dreams you've been having, Mihawk is quietly spiraling. This is his worst nightmare. If you started to remember your past, then he feared that you would remember him, too. Dracule knows that you saw him that night. He'd seen you too, tossed over your brother's shoulder as he ran away, and then again on the ship that took you away from your home. You would want nothing to do with him if you ever found out that Dracule was responsible.

Even though you've only been a part of his life for such a short time, Mihawk couldn't imagine losing you. To give up the content happiness that he's finally achieved by being here with you. Not to mention the wonderful gift you have given to him and Shanks. You have become his everything, his reasons for continuing his sham of a career as a warlord. All of it is used to keep you safe from harm.

Mihawk knows your brother, has seen him in passing, and seen him in action. The younger man is vicious and would not hesitate to attack Mihawk if he knew that the warlord had connections to his sister. It was only the knowledge of Mihawk driving the other ships away that night that kept the tension from snapping between the two men when they were in the same room together. Thankfully, it isn't that often.

However, none of that has happened, and if he were lucky, Mihawk would never have to deal with it being a problem. He forces himself to take a deep breath, letting it out slowly through his nose. He needs to focus and get over himself. Everything would be fine.

“I um. I saw you again, too, Mihawk.”

Okay. Maybe everything wouldn't be okay.

Dracule licks his lips, glad that he isn't facing his angel right now or else she would see the guilt that painted his face. The warlord schools his face once more and then swings his legs off the bed, stomach churning as he turns and gives you a smirk that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

“Still dreaming about me, are you?” Mihawk teases, and thankfully, you don't see anything remiss about his expression.

You huff and roll your eyes at the warlord, put out at being dismissed on the subject, “At least a couple times a week.”

Shanks gives him a look, and Dracule glares right back over your head at the redhead. The other man just sighs and shakes his head in disappointment, annoyed that Mihawk wouldn't just come clean and put all of this behind them.

Dracule shifts back on the bed, long arms curling around your legs as he rests his face against your plush thighs. He kisses each one gently and then leans up to press his lips to your swollen tummy, and you can't help the snort that leaves you at the ticklish sensation.

The warlord tugs you in for a kiss, aiming to make you forget about this topic, “I've told you before to not worry about these dreams, Darling.”

You shrug at him, expression a bit helpless in the face of his clear dismissal. Usually, you would be content to let the matter slide, but this dream irks you, and you need to get to the bottom of this.

“I know you have,” you grumble and let yourself be pulled into Shanks’ embrace, turning your head to nudge into his shoulder. The redhead runs almost as hot as Mihawk, and you bask in it. His hand finds your own and gives it an encouraging squeeze, “But I can't let this one go. I've never been able to remember anything more than watching an island burn and you, Mihawk.”

The warlord tenses, and Shanks can see the way his back tightens up like a bowstring. He tugs you closer to his chest, not willing to let you see the unease that surrounds the other man. You go willingly, frown lingering on your lips as you lose yourself back in your head, going over your dreams and trying to pick out anything else that might stick out at you.

Dracule stands, turning to drop a quick kiss on your brow and Shanks’ cheek, “I’ll go start breakfast. You need your energy.”

Mihawk tosses on a robe and escapes from the bedroom.

You watch him go, concerned at the way he had retreated, and Shanks sighs heavily under you, eyes shut as he shakes his head at the other man's ridiculousness right now.

“Is he okay?” You ask quietly, and Shanks hates the way you sound so hesitant, so unsure of yourself. You speak up again before the pirate can assure you that Mihawk is fine.

“He's always been like this when I mention my dreams, and it hurts when he just casts them away. What if I'm right, and all this crap in my brain are memories?”

Shanks isn't sure what to tell you. He isn't the one that you should be discussing this with, but Mihawk obviously wasn't going to be the one to come clean. How can Shanks tell you that your hunch is right without giving away Dracule’s involvement? This was the other man's mess to fix, but Shanks felt guilty just by association.

“Sometimes Mihawk thinks he knows what's best for us, even if he doesn't go about it the right way,” Shanks murmurs and kisses the top of your head, trying to assure his lover, “Want me to go talk to him?”

You debate the offer. It makes you feel weird to have Shanks be the one to mitigate the tension that rolls between you and Mihawk. But you're tired of watching the other man push you away any time that you mention your dreams to him. They have to mean something, and whatever it is- it's important to you, and you have to find out why. You could have a brother out there, someone who knew who you were. Why would Hawkeye dismiss it?

You sigh and finally nod, “Yeah okay. Maybe that's not a bad idea.”

Shanks hums, rolling the two of you and looming over you. He leans in and kisses you silly, tongue slipping past your lips to gently curl with your own slick muscle. The kiss makes you relax, and you sink back into the bed with a soft sigh. He smiles down at you, leaning in to rub his nose along your own.

“I've got you, Sweetheart. We’ll figure this out together. Okay?”

You nod gratefully, a sweet smile playing on your lips, “Okay.”

The Emperor bestows one last kiss and then shuffles out of the bed. He tugged on his pants from yesterday and watched as Sukuna took his spot, curling up close to his human and glaring at the redhead as if Shanks had been the one to upset you. He glares right back at the demon cat and then lopes out of the bedroom, Hank jumping up from the floor and following after him.

He finds Mihawk in the kitchen, hovering over the stove and fixing up a hearty breakfast for the three of them. The kettle has been filled, and Shanks spots three mugs on the counter, each filled with their preferred blend. He is quiet as he steps close to Mihawk, pressing his front to the other man's back and hooking his chin over his shoulder.

“You're being an asshole, ya know,” the redhead points out, tone not unkind, but Shanks is tired of stepping on eggshells about this with the other man.

Mihawk puffs up like a bird, yellow eyes going wide as he stills, “I am not being an asshole. I'm doing my best to protect her.”

Shanks hums. It's a disbelieving sound, and it causes Dracule's hackles to rise, irritation flaring up like an old wound. What would the Emperor know anyway? He hadn't been there that night. Mihawk had slaughtered your people, painted Yoru red with their blood, and had done so out of pure boredom. He didn't think that saving you and your brother absolved him of his sins.

“You could at least tell her that her brother is alive,” Shanks points out, but Mihawk is shaking his head, his frown even more prominent.

“No, then she'd know of my involvement, and I can't risk that.” He denies it and goes back to furiously scrambling the eggs that pop and sizzle in the pan. He doesn't want to talk about this anymore. He'd much rather just forget about all of this and go back to having a nice, peaceful morning.

“I think you're being an idiot,” Shanks says, tone disappointed and despondent, “She's been nothing but kind and accepting to us. She's pregnant with our child, don't you think she deserves to know everything?”

Dracule tenses the more Shanks goes on, and inside, the warlord knows that the other man is right. It isn't fair to you, but just the thought of admitting his deeds makes him clam up, fear curdling his stomach.

“You know she loves you, right? Told me that before the three of us got together, she was worried I was trying to take her away from you.”

“Stop lying,” Mihawk hisses and grips the counter, brows pulled together in an awful scowl. He doesn't want to hear anymore. How could you love someone so monstrous and selfish like him?

“I'm not lying. She loves you. Just like I never stopped loving you, Mihawk,” Shanks murmurs and pushes past the grief and anger that he can feel surrounding the other man. He presses his brow to Dracule's tense back, willing the warlord to open his ears and listen to him.

“Stop being afraid to love us back.”

“I'm not afraid,” Dracule sounds wrecked, and Shanks curls his arm around that slim waist, tugging him closer to his chest and holding the older man close.

“Then come clean, Baby. Tell her what happened, and let her hear your piece.” Shanks urges softly and presses a kiss to the side of his neck, “You can't keep it inside forever.”

Mihawk is quiet for a long time. Could he do this? Could he open up to you about everything, even with the risk of you tossing him out into the ocean? Dracule thinks of the pained look that he'd caught when he'd dismissed your memories and finds that the guilt is near suffocating. Shanks was right. It wasn't fair to any of them.

“After breakfast, I'll tell her.” Mihawk decides quietly. He doesn't want to, and it terrifies him to think what your reaction will be, but it must happen. Dracule was tired of hiding.

Shanks hugs his treasure close and promises him the same thing that he promised you not very long ago, “We'll figure this out together, yeah?”

Dracule gives a jerky nod, and then the two focus on getting breakfast finished. Shanks sneaks Hank some eggs, and the big lug happily scarfs them down. Mihawk sets the table, busying himself while Shanks disappears to escort you to the kitchen.

He finds you curled up still, Sukuna draped over you like a big, fluffy shield. He goes to the side of the bed and cards his hand through your hair, “You up for breakfast, sweetheart?”

Your pregnancy has been more of a struggle than anything. You hated how emotional you’ve become, getting upset over tiny things that you would otherwise ignore. You couldn’t eat certain things, and you had cried the last time the scent of your favorite tea had made you nauseous. You felt needy, and that made you feel even worse, even though Shanks and Mihawk both have assured you more than a few times that it was fine.

The men actually enjoyed how clingy you've become, eagerly awaiting your beck and call, whether it be running you a hot bath or massaging your sore ankles. Mihawk, in particular, turned out to be a mother hen, coming around more often and staying close to your side. He found books on the birthing process and what to expect after and made it a point to read them out loud when Shanks was able to come around. The other man would grimace and bury his face in the closest soft surface.

“I guess,” you murmur and push yourself up. Sukuna meows in protest, golden eyes narrowing on Shanks for being the one to disturb his nap. You dig your fingers into his thick coat and scratch the ornery beast, and your cat rewards you with thunderous purs. They make you crack and smile, and then you scoot off the bed, grabbing your fluffy robe and tossing it on.

Shanks follows you back to the kitchen where Mihawk has finished setting the table. The warlord comes to your side the moment he sees you, long fingers framing your face as he leans in and kisses you softly. You are surprised enough to kiss him back, but it only lasts half a second before he is pulling away, though he doesn't go far.

“Forgive me, Darling. I shouldn't treat you that way. Especially when it is something so dear to you.”

Mihawk's apology has you melting in his hold, tears well up, and slides down your cheeks. He wipes them away, unphased by the sudden appearance of them.

You sniff and give Dracule a watery smile, “Thank you for apologizing.”

Your rough voice makes his heart break, and Mihaek has a foreboding feeling that he'll be begging for your forgiveness again sooner rather than later. He doesn't want to upset you even more than you are now, but Mihawk had promised Shanks.

“Come, Angel. Let's have breakfast, then I think you and I should talk.”

You frown at the words, but nod, not in the mood to argue with the older man right now. Shanks presses a kiss to the back of your head and then takes his seat, patting his lap with a grin. Mihawk scoffs quietly but steers you in the Emperor’s direction, and you end up seated on the redhead’s lap. You cautiously pull your tea forward and relax when the scent of spearmint reaches your nose.

Breakfast is a quiet affair, though both men are attentive as usual and make sure that you have eaten your fill before they begin to clean up. You pout at being sent to the living room and remind the men that you aren't completely useless. Shanks relents first and reluctantly lets you take over drying the dishes while he goes outside to feed Neal and the three chickens.

Afterward, the three of you retreat to the living room. Your nerves build when the Mihawk sits you in his usual armchair while he and Shanks share the couch. You curl your legs under you, not liking the tension that had bloomed in the room. you lick your lips and break the silence when it seems that neither Shanks nor Mihawk looked like they were going to speak up.

“What's going on?”

You aren't expecting Mihawk to catch your gaze, and you are wholly unprepared to see the terrible guilt and fear that swim in his ringed eyes. The sight strikes you, and you feel concern and anger well up inside. You don't like to see these emotions in your warlord. Mihawk has always been a stone pillar in your life, and it upset you to know that something had made him feel like this.

“Do you remember when you first told me of the dreams you kept having?” When you nod, Mihawk continues, “I lied when I told you that I didn't know anything about them. I panicked earlier when you called your dreams memories because they are _.”

You stare at Mihawk. You can hear him, but there is a ringing in your ears. What did he mean? How could Mihawk know?

“...what?”

Shanks butts in when he sees the confusion and horror that masks your face, “Sweetheart. What do you remember of your home before you came here? Where you came from?”

You shake your head, hands clutching at your robe, “Ah, no? That's always been a little fuzzy for me. I don't know why I can't remember.”

Mihawk speaks up, and you've never heard the stoic man so fretful and nervous before. You don't like it.

“Your home was a chain of prosperous islands named the Nammu Isles. Your parents ruled with a kind hand, but people began to talk, and Charlotte started hearing rumors that the kingdom had connections to Ohara.”

you recognize the name. You remember reading it in one of the many books that Mihawk had brought you over the months. You remember feeling so so angry reading the name, but you couldn't find a reason why. You don't know if it's better or worse now that you know the reason.

“Your parents begged her for a chance to save themselves and offered you up as a bride for one of Big Mom’s sons. She pretended to accept the deal, but in reality, she sent out a message. Calling anyone who wanted a good fight to assist in dealing with a country who needed to know their place.”

“And you were one of them?” You breathe, tone full of anguish, and you look between Mihawk and Shanks. Your heart thuds loudly, and you curl an arm protectively around your stomach. You feel sick.

“I was,” Mihawk confirms, tone wretched and broken, “Your oldest brother, Tomura, found out about the attack and got you out before Big Mom and her sons could make it to the castle. I followed them inside and overheard them making plans to send out ships to search for the two of you, and I decided then that I wanted nothing more to do with Big Mom and her destruction.”

Dracule can see your mounting horror, and he knows he deserves every bit of it, but Mihawk needs to tell you the rest, so he continues.

“I stood there in the main room, looking at all the destruction that they had caused. That I caused, but when I saw you, so innocent and undeserving of what we did to your home, I knew that I couldn't let them find you. I left without a word and sailed out to find you and your brother, saving you from the pirates that had found you, and then I ran. As the years passed, I forgot about what happened, forgot about you, until I found you again.”

You feel like you've stepped straight into the raging waves of the ocean as memories play behind your eyes. You can see it so clearly now, Mihawk arriving on your island and your brother begging you to look away from the Marine Hunter at the time. You can feel the ship rock and shake under you when the cannon balls get too close, and the silence after once you realize that you are safe. You know in your heart that Dracule is telling the truth, but how are you supposed to take such a confession?

You hate him for helping destroy your life, but you can't even remember what your parents look like. Your dreams - memories you remind yourself - only ever showing you your brother and the destruction of your home. But Mihawk had lied to you about who you are for almost two years. He knew your past, knew more than even you. How else were you supposed to feel?

and Shanks? How long had he known? Was he on it, too? The redhead had to have been. They were far too close, and Shanks too knowledgeable about the world. You feel sick, disgusted with the two men in front of you, but numb, too. You don't know how the warlord wants you to react, but you don't think you can deal with either of them right now.

Your silence unnerves Dracule, and he moves from the couch, taking a half step toward his angel, only to stop when you happen to stand as well. He watches with a hopeful expression that falls as you walk past him. Shanks stands as well, dark eyes never leaving your figure as you walk to the front door.

They watch you open it up and stand beside the exit, and Mihawk feels his heart break into a thousand pieces when you look at him, expression closed off and unreadable.

“Get out. Both of you.”

The silence that rings after your statement is deafening. Shanks and Mihawk share a look, and the redhead takes a step forward, hand outstretched.

“Baby, don't - you don't mean that,” he whispers quietly, but you don't look at him. You can't right now. instead, you keep solid eye contact with Mihawk, the true culprit.

“Yes I do. I want you out. Now,” you repeat, and the longer the men linger, the more upset you grow. You have to think. You need time to wrap your head around the fact that both of the people you trust the most in the world have lied to you.

Thankfully, Mihawk seems to understand that being there right now would be the worst thing he and Shanks could do. He tugs Shanks back to the bedroom where Dracule silently gathers his things, slipping on his coat and hat while Shanks roots around for his shirt.

“Mihawk-,” Shanks murmurs, but stops the second the older man shakes his head. The redhead can feel Mihawk's anguish, and he desperately wants to take it away from him, but he knows that only one thing would get Dracule out of his head, and that was you.

You are still standing by the door when they come out of the bedroom. Mihawk can see the way you tremble, but you stay strong and watch them come closer. He stops before you, wanting to reach out, to bed for forgiveness, but the warlord knows it would only make this all worse.

“Call us, please, angel,” Dracule says instead, and doesn't budge until you dip your head in agreement. He fights against the urge to pull you in for a kiss and instead ducks out of the cottage and stalks down the footpath. He needs to go or else he would stay and do something that he would regret.

Shanks lingers, and the redhead can't help himself. He goes to close the distance only for a weight to be shoved at his legs. He looks down, disbelief coloring his face when he sees Hank standing between the two of you. The big mutt stares up at Shanks, and the redhead swears that he can see disappointment swimming in the dog's dark gaze. He looks up at you, helpless, but you look away from him.

“I said get out, Shanks,” you hiss, and the redhead can hear the strain in your voice. He wants to stay, wants to tell you that everything would be okay, and that the three of you could work through this, but he knows that it's a lost cause. At least for now.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart,” Shanks murmurs, and then he turns and follows Mihawk down the path and to the beach. He rounds up his crew with a few short words, heart breaking further when he realizes that Mihawk is already on his ship sailing away, not even nothing to wait for the younger man.

Now alone, you shut the door and go to the couch, sitting in the middle of it. You take a look around your empty home, feeling hollow and alone. You give Hank a sad, strained smile when he comes and sits beside you, Sukuna appearing seconds later to curl up in your lap. Tears well up and stream down your cheeks, but you do not stop them. You let them fall, and grieve for a past you can't remember and a future that you don't know if you can trust.

@writingmysanity @djbumblebee @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz @fluffybunnyu @bookandstar @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @anastasiyax @jaguarthecat @atricksterwithwings

[curtsbigspoon]

ship headcanons? 🤲🏻

I am so sorry anon, I feel I'm too neurodivergent and couldn't figure out whether you meant who I ship in mota, or how I imagine the ship dynamics working. Anyways, have a bit of both!

Rosie x Me (obviously)

Gale x John

Gale x John x Curt

Crosby x Bubbles

Crosby x Rosie

Honestly, I'll ship most of the mfs in this show, they're all attractive and personally? I think they need their ass ate

LAST MINUTE SO I HAVE NOTHING FOR HIM YET BUT KEN VS EVERYONE

Now, headcanons of the pairs?

Rosie x Me: Every night I spread him open and- ((GUNSHOTS))

Gale x John: I might expand on this in a post, because I feel it is very important for the progress of humanities evolution, but, John fucking loves Gale's ass. Downright worships it, thinks it's the perfect shape, likes to take advantage when no one's looking, grabs fistfuls of it until the entire thing's in his palms, until Gale's leaning his head back to hiss, "John," whilst he's all toothy grin kneading it with his fingers. On the other side, when John gets a little too hyped up and starts acting out, Gale's liable to either grab him by the scruff of the collar, or the hair, tug him down real close, voice low, total warning in his voice. John either pipes down immediately like a scolded puppy, or he pushes further, wants to see how far he can go.

Gale x John x Curt: Honestly this might need a separate post because I'll yap my lips off, but I'll give this much at least: Gale leads, he looks after the other two, tries to keep them out of trouble, holds most of the control. Bucky and Curt are like a duo pair, if chaos is happening, it's probably them that caused it. You'll usually find Gale, head in his hands at the scene of the crime, shaking his head, finding them both later with two very guilty expressions on their face. They follow him around like puppies, seeking his praise, his attention, being rivals about it, but also finding love in one another, playing together when Gale's not around to sate them.

Crosby x Bubbles: I haven't thought too much on these two to be clear, but I still like the pairing, and I very much envision them like sweethearts. They've been best friends for as long as they've known one another, always showing up at the end of the other's mission, checking in, updating each other about everything. Finding innocent little ways to brush against one another, risking someone else seeing their hands grazing together whilst they walk because they can just play it off as sheer accident. They laugh when they kiss, giggles falling between the spaces of each other's lips, cheeks flushing rosy, pure sweet joy and adoration.

Crosby x Rosie: Rosie's one of the best pilots and Crosby's a group navigator, of course the two of them find moments to spend time with each other. At first it's for mutual gain, Crosby's looking for someone else to occupy his mind from all the loss, looking for someone to make him feel a little better about himself and the decisions he's making. Rosie gives him that, obvious about his relief when Crosby reassures him of certain mission plans, enjoy the ease of stress to his shoulders - because as much as he loves his crew and his friends, he can never get the guilt out of his head of the responsibility he has to ensure their lives are as secure as his during every flight - Crosby understanding that pressure is something he finds comfort in. They find out that they both share similarities in lack of sleep, deciding to spend the empty hours together rather than alone dwelling in their mourning and guilt. It makes it easier, making each other coffee, sometimes just sitting in silence with the other present, other times taking the pressure off by having a chat and it turns into soft laughter echoing through.

Someone put me down. I can't say more or this will turn into a damn essay. I'm so sorry anon, you probably didn't ask for this, but I had no idea what you meant and it was only meant to be short but then- ((TASER GOES OFF))

If y'all need anything expanded on, or want me to clarify on more specific brainrots, please lemme know I have so much brewing!

[xiuhcoatl89]

Mewtwo fanfic PT 1

hello, this is a first draft and lots of errors so please be patient. I've never done something like this. but I've always wanted to try and I guess my favorite Pokémon will be a good start.

I'm just walking down the path and suddenly in a short free fall. I hit the ground hard and mumble and groan. Hearing a giggle I look up to see a small round portal just hovering in mid-air. it closes as soon as I see it. trying to sit up. Looking around I am in a huge room all washed in a slate grey. a large dining table sits to the side of the room. in the back, there are a few pools and a helix staircase. this all feels familiar… spooky familiar. I stand up and look for an exit thinking I probably shouldn't be here. seeing a large door behind me I get up thinking it would at least show me a different room or some route out. heading for it I jog into an invisible wall. "Owww FUCK" I hold my hand to my nose. wondering what the hell I hit. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE, HUMAN?" Thunders through my skull. Wincing, I look around and see a large catlike anthro at the base of the helix. his large purple tail lashing back and forth. oh my god, it can't be… "it's Mewtwo?" My face paled and I try to head back toward the large doors. only to be grabbed by his telekinetic powers and yanked back. trying to move anything I squirm and try to fight his grip. I try to calm myself down as he turns me around to see the large pokemon. his purple eyes scowling at me "What are you doing here?" He asks again. I stare into his eyes for a sec "Well, I'm not sure maybe I took a wrong turn at the last island." I half chuckle. "If you just put me down I'll just head back off. no need to make a scene." I start to ramble. Mewtwo looks me up and down "But you have no pokemon. how do you protect yourself?" I grimace "I'm a swimmer, never felt I needed one." knowing that my clothes show I'm lying. I feel pressure behind the back of my eyes. I realize he's trying to read my mind. I try to fight it and he squeezes me tighter. My temper gets the best of me. I start growling to try to fight the panic. I hate being pinned down and this is much worse. not being able to move makes me focus on the energy I had in my body. "Let… Me… GO!" I yell pushing what energy I have into it. surprising myself as much as him, I drop to the floor. shaking my head I try to get a jist of what happened I look at him groaning on the floor not too far away. I spin around getting a baring of where I was and head for the large doors. I run past the table before Mewtwo grabs me again. I fall to the floor and I claw at anything to cling to. grabbing one of the table legs I stare at my hands in disbelief. claws had formed on my hands I jump at the sight and get dragged again. Mewtwo pulls me to his feet. not wanting to be pind I swing at him with my new claws… bad idea. his hand glows and I'm shoved harshly to the floor. he growls at me "You look human, but clearly, you are not. WHAT ARE YOU!" Mewtwo yells into my head pushing me harder into the floor. I groan in pain but I refuse to yell. "I'm confused as you are" I hiss through my teeth. Being pinned I try to thrash around again, hating the feeling I growl. "I don't want to be any part of this, let me go." I try to do another energy blast and I feel like I got struck by a tazer. I just don't have the energy to fight I lay panting on the ground from the energy use. Mewtwo stares down at me and lowers his hand. feeling the release I sit up though he keeps my legs pinned. "You are a part of it now, you oddly know too much for me to just let you go. but if you cooperate you may find it, interesting. you are bizarre and I'm, finding myself curious." he gestures his head in my direction. "Look down." I look to Mewtwo puzzled and then look down. I yelp "ahh the hell?" I see a long grey tail that wasn't there just minutes before. I hear Mewtwo move and I look at him again. I see I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place. I choose to run he'll probably control or kill me. I choose to stay, will it change anything that I know about the history that might need to happen? I think back on how I got here. a ring connecting this and my universe. Hoopla? why would hoopla drop a random human into this time and place of the pokeverse?

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S3:E3; Chapter Three, The Case Of The Missing Lifeguard - [Pt. 5]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

𝘌𝘭 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘉𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘥, 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘋&𝘋. 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘙𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘙𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦.

⚠️: Castle Byers scene. Meaning lots of angst, self destructive thinking, and misguided self punishing

📝: Started making it... had a break down [fr tho]... ¯\_( ツ)_/¯ bon appetite! 👩‍🍳 [edit: told ya 💀]

🔑: underlined and bold means they're talking in Russian

||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

Warm rain spits from the angry blanket of clouds, falling through the sky and drenching Mike and Lucas to the bone despite their rain gear. Mud splashed up onto their ankles and drenching their socks as their bikes skid up the Byers driveway. Without a thought, they throw their bikes into the ground before racing up onto Will's porch.

It had taken far longer than they cared to admit to decide to go and find Will. To make things right.

Mike was realizing far too late just how right Will was. He didn't even recognize himself anymore. El had become such an important piece of his life, but he hadnt realized until now just how much he let his feelings screw up all the wonderful things he had in his life to begin with. He missed how things used to be. With the party. With Y/n.

With Will.

All the anger he feels towards himself is channeled into his fist banging on Will's front door.

"Will!" He cries. "Will, I'm sorry, man, alright? I was being a total asshole. I've been a total asshole. Please, can you just come outside and we'll talk?"

No answer but the thundering clouds rolling over their heads. He pounds on the door again.

"Will!"

Lucas hurries to the window, cupping his palms against the glass and peering inside. He knocks on the window, doing his best to peer around the curtains and furniture obscuring his sight.

"Hey, Will! Come on, man! We're sorry!" He knocks again, growing nervous. "Will!"

||𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

'Sorry, man. Curfew,'

'For the last time, Will! No!'

-'What, so I should be locked up all day, too?'

-'Maybe!'

Huffing, I throw the wrinkling comic book into the old mattress. Nothing was working. Nothing was enough to distract me. I was too angry.

I looked down at the withered cover of the comic book I had just thrown, my chest sinking further. Dustin's X-MEN 134, he gave it to me after that night at the hospital.

Thinking about it now, I can't even remember the last time all seven of us hung out as a party. I don't count Dustin's welcome home. Mike and El couldn't be bothered to pretend to care, and Lucas and Max kept ganging up on Dustin. Dustin was understandably upset and not wanting anything to do with us, leaving just me and Y/n. And now, not even her.

How did everything get so messed up?

What was I doing wrong?

I looked around the walls of Castle Byers, a lump forming in my throat. Everywhere I looked, I was painfully reminded of the truth.

My friends don't want me anymore.

I keep telling myself that's bullshit, but the more I do the more it feels like a lie.

They're moving on without me.

Friends don't just forget you, I reasoned. They don't just abandon you.

Then why were they doing just that?

Maybe they weren't my real friends. Friend's don't do what they did.

Everything hurts. I've been telling myself I'm fine, that I'm overreacting but I don't think I am anymore. I'm just tired. I'm tried of feeling like this. I'm tired of being pushed aside, especially when I need them most.

They didn't use to be like this, I tell myself. But somehow that just hurts more.

I had people that cared about me, who were willing to risk their lives to save me. Twice.

And now they don't give me a second thought.

I was shaking now, but I don't think it's from the rain. The storm had finally reached me, seeping through the walls and dampening my clothes and hair.

Another painful realization hits me; Castle Byers looked just like it had the night I built it with Jonathan.

Even though this night was so much like the night Castle Byers was constructed, it couldn't feel more different. More unfamiliar.

My teary eyes find my first D&D manual, propped up against the wooden walls, soaked and forgotten like me. I'm painfully reminded of the night all this started.

I remember it as clear as if it were yesterday, and yet it feels light-years away.

'Something is coming. Something hungry for blood.'

《•••》

"What is it?" I ask, edging further off my seat.

This time it's Dustin who cuts in, "What if it's the Demogorgon?"

Oh, great, I think, throwing myself back in my seat with an anxious huff. We're not ready to face a Demogorgon!

Beside me, Y/n draws in an equally anxious breath.

"Oh, Jesus, we're so screwed if it's the Demogorgon." Dustin rambles on.

"It's not the Demogorgon." Lucas says, assuring us all.

《•••》

My eyes trail to one of my favorite drawings; Will The Wise and Y/C/N. The one I had made when Y/n was first constructing her character. The one that hung in my room for so long, always cheering me up. The one that gave my mom the idea to help me communicate my now memories.

The one that Y/n always threatened to steal for her room as often and as recently as her last visit. The memory of her warm touch lingering on my cheeks burned as bright as the blush raging over me that night so long ago.

'Wait a minute... Did you guys hear that?'

《•••》

The anticipated silence in the basement left by Mike grew louder as he leaned in.

"Boom..." His voice grows louder. "Boom," Louder.

"BOOM!" Mike bellows, slamming his hands against the flat surface, rattling the table and all its contents.

The sudden noise was enough to make me and my friends jump, as was the sudden hand grabbing for my own.

All the more startled, I look down to see Y/n's hand grasping my arm like a lifeline. I feel my skin flush, my cheeks surely reddened as I catch her eye. She looked flustered, smiling a small smile before retracting her hand and returning to the game, unknowingly leaving me in a dizzying blush.

•••

"Will, your action!"

"Fireball!" I cry, throwing the dice to the board with a satisfying rattle.

"FOURTEEN!"

My friends erupt into cheers, all around me as we celebrate together.

"BOOM!"

"Direct hit!" Mike cries, beaming proudly at me across the table. "Will the Wise's fireball hits the Thessalhydra!"

Our excited shouts fill the basement, each and every one of us victorious. My smile can't get any wider when I feel Y/n's hands grip my shoulder and begin shaking me excitedly. We both laugh, feeling on top of the world with our cheering friends by our side.

《•••》

Pained, I look away only to find the proof right in front of my eyes. My three favorite pictures; all of them, my friends and me — happy — staring back up at me.

Our photo from the science fair, encased in the popsicle frame Mike had made bearing all of our characters' names along the side. I brought it here, I brought all my favorite pictures here, to Castle Byers — to my safe place — cause that's where I knew I would need their comfort the most.

But as I look at them now, all I feel is bitterness and pain. I'm reminded of just how much everything has changed.

The science fair was a reminder of the good thing I had before that night. Before everything started.

Y/n and me, at the Snow Ball. My arm wrapped around her, the two of us grinning nervously. It wasn't just the night Y/n and I had first kissed, it was also the first night I felt like the Party had gotten bigger. All of us, Max and El included had been happy. Everyone was laughing and getting along, the happiest we had ever been — the strongest. But now I see it was really the beginning of the end.

It had been coming for so long and I didn't even see it.

And Halloween. Last Halloween, everything had been perfect. For just one. Single. Stupid. Moment.

Shakily, I pick up the photo Jonathan had taken of all of us in our costumes. We were all smiling.

We were all happy.

'Who you gonna call?'

《•••》

I beam as I see my friends pulling up, looking just as excited as I felt.

"Ghostbusters!" I finish, watching as they look me over, happily surprised.

"Hey, Spengler!"

"Egon! Looking sharp!" Y/n grinned, pulling me into a quick hug.

"Janine!" I beam. "Venkman!"

《•••》

As I look at it now, my eyes and throat stinging as Mike's voice echoes louder than ever in my mind.

'I mean, what did you think, really?'

What was I thinking?

'That we were just gonna sit in my basement all day, playing games for the rest of our lives?'

How could I have been so naive?

'it's not my fault you can't move on!'

How could I have been so... so...

"Stupid." I tell myself, my voice splitting in my throat. "So stupid!"

My hands trembling violently with rage and my own sobs, I tear the photo in two.

I was stupid. Stupid to believe I was as big of a priority to them as they were to me.

I rip the drawing off the walls, tearing it to pieces.

Stupid to ever think they'd still cared about me.

I rip and tear and crumple up every meaningful piece of them in an act of defiance.

They won't care. I think bitterly. They won't miss these, they probably won't even notice. Not like I would have.

I grab my bat.

How could I be so fucking stupid?!

Why was I hanging on to all this stuff anyway? Why was I clinging so tightly to something that was already gone?

Because I've been stupid. I'm just some stupid kid that won't grow up.

I storm out of the tent.

I'm just some stupid kid who can't grow up. They made that perfectly clear.

I stand in the pouring rain now, heart thundering in my chest as I stare at the piece of my childhood I couldn't let go of.

So. Stupid.

And I start swinging.

I swing and I swing, with an anger and frustration I've never felt so intensely until now. It's been building my whole life and I didn't realize it. Every swing is simultaneously the best and the worst I've ever felt. Every slur I've heard from my dad, from Troy, is channeled into the bat. Every ounce of frustration and fear I felt since I came back from the Upside Down that nobody understood. Every laugh, every jeer, every single moment I've felt alone is channeled into the destruction of the one place on this earth I ever felt safe.

But it holds up and in the back of my mind, I hear Jonathan again.

'And it took so long cause you were so bad at hammering'

And I start kicking, and I start ripping the walls apart until it's a crumpled heap and I stop.

The sight of Castle Byers in ruins breaks me even harder.

I didn't want it gone, but I did it anyway. That part of me that was angry at myself, told me to keep going. Cause that's what I deserved for believing things could stay the same even though deep down I knew that wasn't true.

I finally stop when I see the castle in ruins.

Exhausted, I collapse to the ground beside the wreckage.

As I sob, stewing in the pain and overwhelming grief I felt I was drowning in, the rain pours heavily over me, soaking me to the bone.

Just as it had the night it had been built.

And now, Castle Byers was gone.

||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

When blue meets yellow in the west.

8:41 pm. It was almost time.

The yellow and blue clock hands were illuminated by a flash of lightning, streaking through the mall's skylight. Starcourt had long since closed, and the real activity was just beginning.

Stationed at the loading docks near the back, standing under the worst storm Hawkins had seen in years were two guards. They watched through the downpour as the scheduled truck backed its way under the concrete cover.

And perched on the roof, just out of sight sat Dustin, Steve, and Robin, scouting from under their rain slickers.

"Look for Imperial Panda and Kauffman Shoes," she reminds them.

Steve wipes away at the rain dripping into his eyes, squinting even further to get a clear picture Dustin already has.

A man in a bright yellow raincoat emerges from a hidden side door, a trolley cart full of packages marked with a familiar insignia.

"They're with that whistling guy!" Dustin says suddenly, motioning out from behind the only pair of binoculars.

"What do you think's in there?" Steve wonders, eyeing the Lynx logo on the back of their many yellow jackets.

"Guns? Bombs?"

"Chemical weapons?" Robin tries.

"Whatever it is," Dustin says, now cautiously studying the heavily armed guards. He had to admit to himself, they really weren't trying very hard not to be obvious. "they're armed to the teeth."

"Great," comes Steve's sarcastic voice, once again rubbing at his eyes, silently wishing he had brought a coat with a hood. "That's great."

A soft clink that would have been obnoxiously loud had it not been for the noise of the storm brings their attention to another guard. Having pressed a glowing button on a small control panel, two large metal doors swung open to reveal another room.

"Hey!" Robin says, squinting through the rain as she tries to get a glimpse without the binoculars. "What's in there?"

"It's just more boxes,"

"Let me check it out," Steve says, grabbing for the binoculars.

Huffing, Dustin fought to keep his grip on the binoculars. "No, I'm still looking!"

"Lemme see it!"

"Hang on!"

Steve's grip had loosened with the slick of rain, sending the binoculars knocking into the cement. The issue had already been forgotten when they saw the guards' attention had been stolen. Simultaneously, the three of them dove to the ground in a panic.

The guards began to pace, grip on their firearms tightening as they gaze out into the night. Seeing nothing but empty roofs and angry skies above them, they unknowingly miss the trio huddled against the roof wall.

Just out of sight to the right of Dustin, Steve and Robin sat panting as they try to calm their racing hearts. Way too close a call. And neither of them had realized what they had done until their eyes landed on their entertained hands. Just as quickly as they notice, they break apart, embarrassed.

Down below, the guards were now on high alert. One of them, unable to shake the feeling of being watched, stalked into the rain with his eyes deadset on an open spot on the roof. He was certain he heard the noise come from that direction.

"Stay here!" He orders to the other. "Watch the door!"

Reluctantly, his partner complies and inches back towards the doors.

When he finally reaches the top of the stairwell, he hesitates only a moment before he throws the roof door open, gun cocked.

But he was met only with steady claps of thunder and an empty roof.

Had he been wrong?

Or had he just missed whoever had been here?

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Clothes drenched, their shoes sloshing underneath their feet like sponges, Steve, Robin, and Dustin slip out from the shadows and make their way throughout the back halls behind the scenes of Starcourt.

"Well, I think we sound your Russians," Robin quips.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

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[lizacstuff]

Your thoughts on the first episode of the new season? And can we talk about all those parallels? Also I'm loving the summer vibes!

I'm LIVING for the summer vibes! Doesn't everything feel like a breath of fresh air? I definitely feel like new life has been injected into the series. And that new location is so beautiful, I LOVE IT.

As for the episode, I thought it was masterfully done. You could tell Ayse was back and bringing the perfect mix of comedy, romance and drama. And the sparkle! The show sparkles again. The almost two and half hours flew buy, I was on the edge of my seat, and the performances from Hande and Kerem were amazing. Plus I just adore every moment between Serkan and his new nemesis (aka his secret daughter).

On the sober side, I don't care how jerky Serkan got while battling cancer, or how he may have pushed her away, nothing they've shown us so far even begins to justify Eda not telling him about Kiraz, and it certainly doesn't justify her continuing to lie when he's standing right in front of her making overtures (and her daughter is clearly longing for her father). Obviously, there are still many things we don't know and I'm sure there are many flashbacks to come, and Eda has been though so much, but still...I don't see how they will thread that needle and have Eda come out unscathed.

That being said, with this first episode they executed this story so well and it really does give new life to the series, so I won't dwell on the fact that Eda never would have done this. Never. We just have to move past it, accept that it's a soap opera plot device designed to give us an amazing second season packed with all sorts of amazing scenes and just enjoy every minute while it lasts.

(More under the cut)

I'll get to more on Edser later, as for everyone else... silliness abounds.

First... Erdem cheated on Leyla? WHAT!?!?! With whom? But I guess that was a clean way to explain Leyla leaving.

Engin and Piril, I love that Engin is staying home with their son, and that young actor is a cutie! As for Piril... GRRRRRR... she is still on my shitlist. Last time it was for betraying Eda (and Serkan) by enabling Selin's reign of terror, this time it's by betraying her friend and business partner Serkan! Good grief. If Piril just found out recently at the start of this project I could accept on her holding off because it's not her secret to run off and tell, but what I can't accept is her actively working against Serkan finding out. Even if in this episode she had gently said to Eda... "do you think maybe it's time you told him?" it would be a lot easier to swallow... but nope! She's acting like it would be the end of the world if Serkan found out. I sincerely hope that when everyone finds out and Engin finds out Piril knew, it causes problems between them. She deserves that.

She remains my second least favorite character. Who was my least favorite character this episode? Oh you know! Awful Ayfer is back! We got a reprieve from her in the last arc, but she's back to her annoying, controlling, Serkan-hating ways. Eda is a mother, an international award-winning landscape architect and business owner and she still has to lie to Ayfer because she's such a pain-in-the-ass? Watching her is going to be a trial.

Even though it feels like both Aydan and Ayfer were reset to zero character development, and Aydan has done worse (keeping the fact that Serkan was alive from Eda) I still find her a much easier character to take. Probably because Neslihan is a much better comedic actress, so she's a lot more entertaining. But... Aydan's been with Kemal for 5 years and hasn't told Serkan? WHY? I can't believe Kemal didn't give her an ultimatum years ago. I was loving, however, Serkan being in the way for both Aydan/Kemal and Engin/Piril. GOOD. Those people caused problems for him at one point or another or were in the way, it was nice to see him return the favor. I like Kemal and am still hoping they'll do a parallel "not knowing your father thing" and reveal he's Serkan's bio dad while Serkan is finding out he had a child he never knew about.

Melo and Seyfi were their awesome supportive, funny selves. It was great to see both of them, I'm so glad they stayed.

As for the new characters, love the kids. The new hotel manager is apparently ditzy and starstruck over Serkan, and I don't really understand how she's going to be integrated into the cast, but I love that she was used as a device to show us that Serkan has zero interest in any woman who is not Eda Yildiz. Eda's assistant seems like he'll be a fine side character. As for Burak, he seems harmless, obviously he has feeling for Eda that she does not reciprocate (fuck off Ayfer trying to push her on him) but hopefully they don't make him a psycho like Deniz. I did think he was a bit out of line to Serkan. Isn't that his cafe? And a customer has his glass spilled by a child in his care, and he insults him instead of apologizing? That is the worst customer service I've ever seen! He's a character that could wear on me quickly, we shall see. Kiraz can't help but be sassy because of genetics, but some of the adults in her life seem to be modeling rude behavior!

Now on to Eda and Serkan, I can't say enough about Hande and Kerem's acting in this episode. Phenomenal! They were both brilliant. Plus both are doing a great job working off of Maya (especially Kerem) those scenes were priceless. I don't often enjoy kids on shows, but so far I'm loving this dynamic.

As for Edser, while we don't know everything yet it feels like Serkan got to a point where he couldn't stand to see Eda in pain and putting her life on hold, he outright mentioned that she might not have graduated if they'd stayed together, and so that was part of the reason he reverted to his robot self and pushed her away. I'm going to guess she tried and tried and he was just unyielding. Saying he didn't want to get married or have kids in the harshest way possible. Perhaps even she went to tell him that she was pregnant and he went off on not wanting kids before she could even tell him. Time will tell.

At this juncture, my best guess is Eda's fear is rooted in rejection. It can't be that she thinks Serkan is a terrible person that doesn't deserve to know his child, or would be detrimental to Kiraz. However, she knows what it feels like to be rejected by Serkan, I'm sure she was beyond devastated, so I'm guessing now she's bent on protecting her daughter from feeling that same rejection. She fears if he found out, but wanted nothing to do with her, it would feel worse than him not knowing. She's not thinking clearly and perhaps it hasn't even occurred to her that the man she fell in love with is still under there and that man is fully capable of opening his heart wide to their child.

The fact that this child, a stranger to him, already has him wrapped around her little finger to the tune of being late to meetings while he waits for her to pick berries, speaks volumes.

The lies that Eda is telling Kiraz though... there is a fairy tale poetry to Eda saying her father is among the stars... but there was no way this would ever end well. Such a bad idea. Eda.... has made mistakes.

As for Eda and Serkan, their reunion was so bitter sweet. The way Serkan was sure he was hallucinating her and couldn't believe she was real, speaks to the fact that his thinking he saw her that morning was not an anomaly. It must happen all the time. She's never left his thoughts in 5 years. Especially since Engin makes it clear that women throw themselves at Serkan all the time, and he never bites. That's a lot of years celebrate, pining after a love he lost through his own actions. Though it's not that surprising that he didn't pursue other women, as he's never been a character who was motivated by sex. Which makes it hilarious that during his presentation that's where his mind was at, remembering their intimate times together. Serkan Bolat is an Edasexual.

Serkan seemed to want to brush past what happened between them, how they ended, but from Eda's pain, it's clear it was gut-wrenching and tragic and that's something he's going to need to recon with in the coming episodes. But how refreshing that they actually talked! That Eda actually expressed her pain to him! Wowza, that's a change from recent episodes when they didn't even have a proper conversation after he got his memory back.

The flashback scenes were a combination of pure brilliance and pain. Just rip out my heart why don't you. Serkan's angry reactions seem very believable for someone suffering what he was going through. I think it's typical to lash out at the person closest to you. And their fear and pain, their commitment to getting him better and seeing it through... those scenes were made all the more heartbreaking knowing that they didn't make it out the other side intact.

On a lighter note, I loved how even despite their intention and best efforts to remain closed off to one another, and away from one another, they couldn't. Physically, Serkan couldn't stay away, and every time Eda was in his presence you saw her resolve slip and her start to feel that old pull towards him. The fact that Eda thinks there's any way to keep this secret and get rid of him, she must just be in full panic mode and not thinking clearly. She's never going to shake him.

Thank goodness Serkan came back and actually issued a sincere apology for what he said at coffee. He definitely owed her one, but what was extraordinary is that it showed that the growth he went through when they were together didn't regress. He was able to apologize and explain that he was angry and hurt and that's why it happened. If you remember from the first time around, saying sorry was something he was just unable to do, so this felt big to me. He's not the same robot Bolat, she left an indelible mark on him.

As for him making her present her proposal, it's really not out-of-line for the professional relationship, however, we all know he did it just so he had an excuse to be around her. That man will take any excuse, plus he likes to get a rise out of her.

The dinner scene was breathtaking. How beautiful and achingly romantic was that setting? Wowza. And what a roller coaster of emotion those scenes were. It was great to watch them talk and laugh. Who didn't swoon when he deveined her shrimp and when she gave him fries? But we had to know it wouldn't last. Eda's speech had me breathless. Serkan had that coming, it hurt but it had to happen. What a relief to see them get things out in the open. Now I hope we get to see them really talk about what happened and why. Explain yourself Serkan!

As for the next episode, I was so hopeful that the Kiraz secret would be out after the final scene, but the first fragman makes it look like that's not going to happen, at least not at the start of the episode. My fear is that if Eda outright lies to him that just makes everything worse. The longer she keeps it from him, when they're back in each other's orbits and it's clear he's not running away, it makes her more and more at fault.

In any case, it looks like we're in for some fabulous scene so I look forward to the second episode!

[helloliriels]

Prompt #2: Allergies

February 2021 Johnlock prompt challenge, hosted by @ohlooktheresabee. Daily entry by 🐝 @helloliriels🐝 *** 🐝🐝🐝 Gonna have to cheat on this one, down sick, but since bees & allergies go together, here it is. Enjoy! 🐝🐝🐝 ***

Do Bees Kiss? or just Sting? 

Q: Do bees "kiss"?

             Why do bees "kiss"?  I went to Wikipedia.

A: When bees "kiss" they are actually passing nectar to other bees.

*******************************************

Sherlock kisses John.

It was early morning. And John was getting ready for work.

Sherlock bloody Holmes of course, pays no attention to people's privacy or morning routines, and can't be bothered to explain why he's standing in John's way as he makes his toast and goes about his business...  but there he is. Every place John needs to be. Waiting for something.

John is just about done and ready to head out the door - No thanks to Sherlock for making him late again - when he gets the shock of his life.

Sherlock kisses him.

A small peck on the lips. Almost chaste. Like those kisses you give to your crush in kindergarten. Or to your mum. When she insists.

John thinks it's an experiment. He knows it is. 

It must be. 

He gives Sherlock a 'you done now?' look, then goes around him when he gets no reply. 

Sherlock heads off to do his own morning routine. John sighs. Dropping the butter knife in the sink with a loud clank. Exasperated. He doesn't have time for this shit. 

Why do I bloody put up with it? 

He fumbles with his keys and jacket. Noting now that the genius has decided to get OUT of his GOD damn way of course, he is twice as late!!

He heads out the door in a rush. Slamming it, just a little in revenge on the way out.

***

Talking to Greg later that evening - around the corner from a crime scene where Sherlock is currently arguing with Anderson - he tells him about it off-hand. Confession of a sort. Get it off his mind. Greg will think it's damn funny.  "Pompous git, gave me a kiss earlier..."

"Wha???!!!....," Greg mouths a mock 'O' in awe as he turns to look at John, eyes wide in amazement...  a look that fully says, 'finally! It's going down!'

"I know right?" Playing it up, John laughs it off. Great joke. Were not a couple! He shrugs.

"What else happened?? What did he say?" Greg was dying to know now, taking his hands out and shaking John for more details. The man wanted details?! John could see this was the happiest moment of Papa Lestrade's life. It was almost a bummer to have to disappoint him...

         🐝   ***REST UNDER THE CUT***   🐝

"No, no, nothing like that." John reassured, "God I wish!" (It came out before he had time to stop himself). And Lestrade looked taken aback.

He added a little "Haha," like he had meant it as a joke after all.

He really didn't.

         Sobering thought.

Thinking better to explain himself, he added - "Hey, don't tell Sherlock I just said that?... by the way. Bit not good. It was just an experiment after all, I'm sure. You know how he is."

Greg was still just... flabbergasted. A balloon deflating. Open mouthed staring at John. No words.

John's half sad-smile said more than he probably intended. Shouldn't have mentioned it after all, he thought. "Well!" He added cheerfully, slapping Greg on the shoulder. "Was a fun case tonight. Sherlock will be happy. Solved it in under 5 minutes!" He prepared to leave, and shot off a parting, "See you round." With a half-smile. He bowed his head and walked off to follow Sherlock who was now leaving. John had his hands in his pockets now. Quite unlike him. Shuffling along. 

Greg watched as John kicked some debris in his path in frustration, mindlessly, as they left. He had never seen the man looking so downtrodden...  

At least, not after such a brilliantly resolved case! John was usually on cloud nine after watching the curly haired genius work. It was rather embarrassing really. The puppy eyes that looked up in worship at Sherlock as he dished out deductions, it was almost criminal. But lately he was getting more and more moody... Greg wondered.

And here, with this new evidence, Sherlock had managed to...   He stopped. Shaking his head. Unbelievable. Just unbelievable...

Greg took one last look over his shoulder at their retreating forms, before heading out himself. 

 "Unbelievable."

*** 

The week goes on.                       

Sherlock continues to kiss him, Randomly. Small pecks mostly. But sometimes a smooch. Nothing more. No explanations. Just kisses.

Experiment.

Must be. John kept telling himself.

Experiments require further data. It was the only possible explanation...

Sherlock had never shown any signs of wanting... relationship in his life. Mister 'girlfriends aren't his area' and 'married to his work', and... 'alone protects me'...  had never expressed any interest in any men either (that John knew of?). Hell, he'd even turned down some of the most bloody gorgeous ones they had met so far, both men and women. So John doubted that he was interested in that sort of thing. Some people just aren't.

The only really odd thing about it, is - Sherlock isn't saying anything to address the kisses.... 

It must be like having toes on the kitchen table, to him. John thought. A dummy hanging itself from their rafters. Or penicillin growing in the bread box. I'm just a thing. A dummy for this latest experiment.

At that last thought, a realization dawned on John. A horrifying, terrible realization. How had he not seen it sooner?!

Was Sherlock going to break out some rare dye, or some insane chemical powder he'd concocted - to dust and test John's lips for lip prints left at a crime scene next?? John could just see himself going to work with purple lips and a chemical burn that would take weeks to heal. Perhaps even suffering an allergic reaction...

All because Sherlock did not realize the exotic stuff would not COME OFF!!! and was actually quite dangerous.

He pinches the bridge of his nose at the thought. Exasperated. 

His brain hurts now. 

    This was happening a lot lately. 

The thought of what he was going to be subjected to next....the worry. Was almost worst. Well, it is worse - than the kisses, John thinks.

The kisses. 

Damn. Need to stop thinking about this.

John did his best to push it out of his mind. Not wishing to upset the equilibrium of their friendship. Crazy as it might be right now. At least this is one way, he was getting what he wanted? Or something like it. Gift horse and all. One doesn't ask...

He is tempted to ask however, about how you would go about setting up a mind palace? Just so he could keep the memories locked forever away in there to return to. But that would be more than telling.

So he just closes his eyes most of the time, when he knows it's going to happen; and stores it in the best way he knows how. Memorization. Skills learnt in public school. Repetition. 

Sherlock was certainly giving him that. 

John smiles despite himself. He gives it about a week before the worst will come out.

           He isn't wrong.

***

The height of ridiculousness comes one morning, almost exactly a week later. 

John is there in the kitchen, fork in hand - eating his breakfast, and reading the paper out of the corner of his eye. Completely non-plussed, while Sherlock continues to dive in for a small kiss. Between. Every. Single. Bite. The paper rattles a bit each time. 

John isn't even looking at him anymore.

Or acknowledging that this is happening.

At all.

He's got his back to the cabinets, facing out. And his slippered foot keeps tapping away.

Sherlock, as anyone watching would have seen - was acting as childishly as could be imagined. Not unlike when you see two kids who won't stop hitting one another, while say 'I'm not hitting you". If he hadn't been the recipient of it, John might have thought it was quite funny.

He wasn't sure how long this was going to go on. And clearly had decided to take the saint's role and be above it all; when Sherlock dives in for one more kiss. 

This time, he presses in deep, and opens his mouth a little. Holding it there. Breathing his air. 

  Waiting.

  Watching with a perplexed furrow of his brow,

                  for John's reaction.

Oh god. John thinks. Feeling the warm breath, and the warmer lips pressed up against his own.

What is now a very REAL, albeit awkward, kiss.

Sherlock does not have much experience in this area, after all.

John's breathing stops. He swallows hard. Tries to remember not to drop his fork.

His heart has just jumped out of his chest. And is now screaming at him. Pumping and pulsing like it's running a marathon. And his eyes scan around the room, as if someone might materialize from thin air, who could help, or at least explain all of THIS to him?!!!

     ...WHat the HeLL wAs GoiNg On??!!!

Lips still connected, breath shared, he looks up at Sherlock at last. Unable, really to avoid it at this point. He makes eye contact. 

His eyes full of fear, his eyebrows raised in question.

And showing... Honestly showing something else entirely, he hadn't meant to show at all.

Longing.

He looks like he is about to cry. He is about to cry. This. THIS. Is too much.

Sherlock can't have THIS from him. Not without a relationship. 

He pulls away. And turns his head, his lips out of reach. Closing his eyes. His signal, that he is DONE.

Done with this bloody experiment. Done with his stupid, unfeeling, selfish flatmate. Just done.

***

He feels, more than sees, Sherlock grin his way out of the kiss. Backing off just the slightest bit. But still not going away. 

When he looks back a few moments later, having calmed down his own breathing. And collected his feelings. Sherlock is still standing there. Looking down at him. A wicked grin on his face. At that look, John is stunned. Has this all been a JOKE to the man?!! 

He has only a moment to think before Sherlock's lips are on his again.

John drops everything this time. Throws, more like. Literally - newspaper, plate, fork, all of it - down. And pulls down on Sherlock's neck, forcibly dragging him closer. If Sherlock wants to kiss, then GOD DAMN IT, he is going to get fucking KISSED! And John releases everything that has been pent up inside of him, all week. All month. All of the years he has known and been in love, with Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock was now holding onto him also, arms wrapping around his middle. Keeping him upright, somehow. While John was snogging him senseless.

That should teach him. John thinks as he pulls away. Completely out of breath and panting with the exertion he had just enforced. And glares up at his flatmate. Absolute daggers.

But Sherlock...  is now blushing, and looking pleased as punch. The response John sees, is also the kindest, and gentlest look in his eyes.

More love than he has ever dared to hope for from anyone, let alone, from his companion. More love than John thought the man standing before him, was capable of feeling. 

Contrary to everything Sherlock had tried to tell everyone, loudly, since the day John had met him. This was Sherlock being human. 

And it was all for him.

It was like a wall had come down. And the great genius' emotions were laid bare - exposed before John, for what they really were. Insecurity. Inexperience. He was offering himself up as a gift to be taken. A student to be taught. And John had... Oh.

Oh.

John blushes. He had just taught. Hadn't he?

Sherlock smiled. Glad to see John finally catching up. A puzzle at last, solved. 

A sweet little shrug of, forgive me? but this was the only way I know how... accompanied his smile. And John found himself laughing with relief at the expression. Giddy with it.

He pulled Sherlock back in to himself, gently this time. And gave him more of a sweet, first-date kiss.

With Sherlock's permission, it deepened it into a full, gorgeous, lovers kiss - His hand gripped tight in the expensive fabric of Sherlock's shirt, to keep him in place. Buttons be damned.

This kiss was;

Full of all the things John had wanted to say; 

Full of all the things Sherlock had been trying to say;

Full of all the things they had both held back for so long.

When it ended, John felt Sherlock lick a tiny bit of honey off of the corner of his mouth. Humming as he did so.

A little like a buzz.

🐝🍯🐝 Not unlike a bee.🐝🍯🐝

John shivered in anticipation. As Sherlock led the way...

If this was what loving Sherlock Holmes was going to be like... Watson smiled, then sign him up as beekeeper.

***************************************

posted on AO3 by helloliriels

More great fics and daily updates under the February 2021 Johnlock prompt challenge from ohlooktheresabee on AO3

[parkersjiggle]

Hi! I'm the one who requested the 'didn't know they were dating fic'. Thank you so much! It was perfect, I really enjoyed it. Can I make another request? Tony thinking Peter has feelings for one of the other Avengers and being jealous. But of course it's him Peter wanted all along.

Hey! I loved that prompt thank you for requesting it! I’m so sorry I haven’t gotten to you before now but I’ve been swamped with uni and I felt super unmotivated to write, but I’m back now! Anyways I hope you enjoy!!

Tags: jealous!Tony, mutual pining, misunderstandings, required unrequited love

—————

Frankly, this was not Tony’s morning. He hadn’t slept in over 40 hours and to make matters worse he had just run out of coffee and forgot to tell Friday to order more. But none of that could explain the bile rising up in his throat or the jealousy coursing through his veins.

The scene unfolding in front of him did though. Stupid Steve’s giggling again, unmanly as it is. His muscles shake and tears stream from his closed eyes. He has a hand plastered on Peter’s shoulder. Tony has to hold his breath, pursing his lips as he watches them from the corner of the room.

He knows what has happened. Peter probably told some joke that honestly wasn’t worth doubling over and bursting into harsh cackles of laughter, but Steve just had to go the extra mile to get Peter’s attention. Tony had been observing things escalate for a while, and the more he noticed, the more it upset him. It started out as most things did, he guessed. Flirty comments, lingering touches, more eye contact than strictly necessary.

It doesn’t matter anyway. Tony won’t have to be here for much longer. Next week he’s off to Hawaii by himself. The brochure looked really good and he couldn’t wait to relax, gather his thoughts and get over this idiotic crush.

It hurt to look, but he couldn’t not look either. He notices Steve telling Peter some lame story about a mission gone wrong. The kid’s face actually lights up brighter than a toothpaste commercial. He has that soft, adoring look on his face that makes Tony want to hurl.

Tony decides to torture himself some more and actually joins them in the living room. Steve whooshes past him as if it’s his house instead of Tony’s and perches himself on Tony’s favorite couch, signaling for Peter to come over. When he does, Steve wraps himself around him closer than food wrap, just as transparent. They’re whispering as if they’re sharing secrets. This time Peter’s the one giggling like he’s three and a half years old.

Tony can’t say anything about it. It would put their friendship at risk, and that’s something he won’t do. Friends like Peter don’t come along too often. Knowing that still doesn’t stop the want to raise his voice with jealous spite and demand Peter to explain why Steve makes him smile like that when it should be Tony.

But, it’s not the kid’s fault. Tony had no claim on Peter. They weren’t anything beyond close friends and Peter could flirt with whomever he wanted. Maybe he had a chance years ago when the hero-worship and excessive admiration still lingered, but he fucked that up too. Peter knew the real him now, flaws and all. Tony’s well aware he pulls with one hand just to push away with the other. He knows he’s doing it right now too, but he still doesn’t stop. He feels like he’s cursed. When he loves it’s too strong, like some God turned his emotion dials up way too far. No one really understands that Tony can only give mixed messages in order to disguise his love, protect his feelings.

He didn’t say anything but his eyes were like daggers stabbing Steve over and over again. He always had to have what Tony wanted too, huh? Tony felt the frustration bubbling up in his chest.

His knuckles turned white from clenching his fist too hard. His teeth gritted from the effort to remain silent, hunched form exuding an animosity that was like acid- burning, slicing, potent. “Something wrong, Stark?” When Steve spoke, Tony mentally snapped, face red with suppressed rage. “You’re enjoying this aren’t you, Rogers? You really love to rub it in, don’t you?” He made the mistake of letting all the frustration build until it inevitably snapped. He knew that he shouldn’t have let it escalate to that point, but logic wasn’t on his side right now. He couldn’t think this through.

“What on earth are you talking about?” Steve raised his brow questionably. Tony felt the hammering of his heart, its very great attempt to escape his chest. Nothing but hurt and fury ran through his mind right now, “Are you acting stupid or do you actually have a brain the size of a pickled walnut?”

He heard the youngest of them three gasp, almost scandalously. “TONY! You can’t say stuff like that! What’s gotten into you!?” He had the nerve to sound disappointed and angry at the same time. Those feelings quickly ebbed away, however, when he really looked at Tony, and more specifically at his eyes. Which seemed to hold a great deal of pain and had dark bags under them. Peter wondered when he was last able to get some sleep and not just a 45 minute powernap between his lab projects. He paused and sighed. “Are you okay?” The concern and sincerity was clear in his voice. It made Tony want to confess everything and run away at the same time. He let out a shaky breath. “No... I’m not.” He cast his gaze onto the ground and his eyes darkened. He glanced back up at Peter. “Why?” His voice sounded more pained than anything. Steve saw this as the perfect time to excuse himself, fully well aware of how much Tony hated being vulnerable in front of others.

“Why what?” Peter asked softly, following Tony’s gaze that was plastered on Steve walking out. “You mean Steve? Why do you have a problem with him?” Tony chuckled darkly and shook his head, choosing to answer with a question of his own. “How long have you two been dating?” Peter eyed him weirdly, confusion evident on his face. “Dating? We’re not... what do you mean?” Now it was Tony’s turn to look puzzled. “What’s all that giggling and whispering about then? I can’t walk in a room without seeing you two joined at the hip!”

Peter laughed, almost hysterically. “Omg this is golden. This is so good. We’re literally plotting, trying to come up with a plan, to get him and Bucky together! There’s absolutely nothing going on between him and I.” Tony couldn’t help the relaxing of his muscles and the breath of relief that escaped his mouth at those words. “Why do you care? Wait... were you jealous?” Peter leaned in closer, smirking. “So what if I was?” Tony would not back down so easily. “Well I’d say you’re a bit of hypocrite to be honest. One moment I’m important, next minute I’m background at best. What’s making my head spin are the transitions. Stop giving me mixed signals, Tony! Don’t be a coward, tell me how you feel.”

Tony didn’t hesitate this time. He closed the distance between them, kissing Peter short and sweet. “I love you,” he tells him, “I love you. Come to Hawaii with me? How’s that for a signal?”

—————

Send me more prompts loves!! 😊

[gildedmuse]

Sora: Warrior Of The Sea

(A RedHawk Production)

Cavendish's constantly flirting with Law, because hey if it gets him a bigger role....

Zoro isn't sure why exactly, but he wants to punch Cavendish in the face. He's suggested (to Luffy, in private) that his character gets to do so multiple times. Luffy thinks it's hilarious. Of course Zoro wants to punch Cavendish.

Zoro: No, I mean our characters...

Luffy: Shishishi that doesn't make sense, Zoro. Why would Daichi punch Cavendish when Torao isn't even in the show.

Zoro: *grumbles* It had nothing to do with Torao.

Luffy: Unless---!!! Did Torao put himself in the next show? Who does he play? Does he have a costume? Is it awesome?

Zoro: What? No, of course he didn't -- You know you can read the scripts, right?

Luffy: That's boring. I'd rather see what happens. Although I'll bet I know what part Torao would give himself if he did!

Zoro: Someone with puppet string powers so he could force Ace and I to act more like the manga?

Luffy: Shishi, Zoro's always so funny. Noooooo, stupid. *Beaming up at him, like he knows a secret* I know what Torao would do. Torao would play a character that got to kiss Daichi! Shishishi.

Zoro: W-what?! *Under his breath, as if anyone cares about their conversation enough to listen in or would be surprised by this* Stop messing around, Luffy! Idiot! Why would you say something like that?

Luffy: Cause then he'd get to kiss ZORO. And in front of everyone, too, just like he wanted to- mmfff!

Zoro: Luffy! *jolts forward to cover Luffy's mouth* H-he does not want to--! No one wants to--! *Sighs, letting go before Luffy gets bored and starts licking his palm. He totally knows him too well* What a stupid thing to say.

Luffy: *Pouting beacuse it was NOT a stupid thing to say and he doesn't understand why Zoro is being so mean and weird when Luffy is being so helpful!* No it's not! Torao watched all - *Makes a longing sort of face, but tries to glare as well, the way Law does* - when Ace and Zoro kissed at the party last year. *Frowns at the memory, pointing an accusing finger in Zoro's face* Zoro is the stupid one for making Torao spend the rest of the party pouting in the back. He wouldn't even come watch me and Carrot have an eating contest and that was super fun!

Zoro: *Eye twitching* You moron, that's not the reason Law didn't want to watch you two eat. Anyway, he's always like that. He probably didn't even want to go to that stupid party in the first place.

Luffy: Everyone loves parties. Torao was probably having tons of fun until Ace and Zoro kissed, and it's worse because everybody saw!

Zoro: *Starts to ask why that’s so important but stops because Luffy logic* What does it matter? It was just some stupid party game. And Torao didn’t seem to mind when Cavendish kissed him earlier! 

Luffy: But Torao didn’t go all red after and tell everyone how good at kissing Cavendish is. 

Zoro: *Flushes all over again just at the memory. He might have been slightly tipsy. and as luck would have it Ace IS a really, really good kisser. In a way Zoro had not been expecting,*

Luffy: *Eyes go wide* That's why Torao wants to kiss Daichi! Then maybe Zoro will think Torao is an even better kisser than Ace AND everyone would see it so then they’d all know that Zoro belonged to Torao and likes Torao more! 

Zoro: *Knew that he’d regret learning Luffy’s logic behind the importance of everyone seeing him kiss someone* That’s not how tha-- Wait, no. *Shakes head, not believing he’s been dragged into this* I told you, Todorao didn’t write himself in the show. And if he did, he wouldn’t make a character who kissed Daichi. It wouldn’t be “like the original”. I, uh, flipped through the manga just to see if there were some better fights coming up. *Will die before he admits he read the whole series because Law seemed so upset he’d heard of it before* Daichi already has a love interest. It’s....*Shudders* Poison Pink. They even kiss this episode. *Looks like a man condemned at the thought that he’s going to have to kiss Perona of all people.* See it's right.... *Skimming the script, frowning when he can't find the page.*

Luffy: Shishishi. Only Zoro could lose his way inside a script!

Zoro: I didn’t get lost! It was here in the last draft I swear. *Flushing less out of embarrassment more of anger* Perona made me practice. Apparently my kissing isn’t “cute” enough for the princess. 

Luffy: Hmm.... *Thinks about Perona threatening Zoro to practice so he doesn’t gross her out while everyone is watching* 

Luffy: *Thinks about Perona being all gleeful cause she gets to boss Zoro around, even if it’s just telling him how he should kiss her. She’d probably make him do it again and again just so she got to keep bossing him around.* 

Luffy: *Pictures a mini Law peaking into the dressing room and seeing Perona get kissed by Zoro* 

Luffy: You should practice the kissing scene with Torao! *said loud enough that any crew member that hadn't picked up on the tension definitely knew now*

Luffy: *Pictures Law at a typewriter angrily slamming down  on the keys, furiously rewriting the scene*

Zoro: *an interesting shade of red* Wh-what are you talking about! And keep your voice down!

Luffy: Well, usually I help you remember your lines, because you're terrible at it.

Zoro: I am not! They just change too much that's all!

Luffy: But what if I couldn't help with the kissing scene because.... Hmm.... Because I was busy helping Ace!

Zoro: *Sweatdrop* I'm not sure that sounds right.... You should probably just say you don’t want to.

Luffy: So you'd have to ask Torao!

Zoro: Why would I--!! And besides *Shakes script in Luffy’s face* the kissing scene is gone. *So fucking relieved* 

Luffy: Oh, right.... Oh,  I know! I’ll bet Shanks would put it back in if we asked!

Zoro: No!

Luffy: But then you'd have a reason to kiss Torao! Though I guess you’d have to practice where everyone could watch, but we practice out on set all the time so just so that. And you wouldn't have to punch anybody!

Zoro: ...... I'd still want to punch Cavendish.

Luffy: Hmm… Well, maybe you could kiss Torao then punch Cavendish.

Zoro: *Doesn't reply, because this seems like a pretty good deal*

There's one time Luffy convinced Law to give in and try on the Sora costume. Bon Clay adores Luffy so it's not at all difficult to talk him into letting the two of them borrow it. Admittedly, Law feels a little ridiculous about how excited Luffy gets over playing dress up, but also.... He /does/ kinda want to try it on. Just to see. Still, he's determined to be seen as professional and not like a total fanboy at work so he makes Luffy swear not to tell a soul and promises himself he'll only try it on for a minute.

So naturally the second he's done up, Luffy runs off to get Zoro so he can see how cool Torao looks as Sora. Zoro gets pulled out of his trailer half dressed in his own costume - he's used to Luffy grabbing him and dragging him places with no explanation - only to be shoved into a small dressing room with a very flushed, embarrassed looking Law all dressed up like his childhood hero.

Luffy has to prompt him to tell Torao how badass he looks, seeing as Zoro is just /staring/ at Law. Not even at the costume, just at Law. That's wrong and boring as far as Luffy's concerned so he finally jumps in telling Zoro what to say. Which Zoro still managed to screw up by replying to, "Doesn't Torao look totally cool as Sora?" With, "Mmm, so cute." Before realizing, shit, said that outloud

Fellow writer Robin just happens to peek into the room while looking for Law in that moment and catches Zoro stuttering a correction while Law goes from embarrassed to full on smug, leaning closer to Zoro and flirtatiously asking "But what do you think of the costume?" enjoying the way Zoro's skin goes all flushed.

Robin decides she doesn't need Law that much at the moment, but she does secretly snap a photo on her phone. She's a total Daichi/Sora shipper. She has a secret account online where she writes fanfic of the two. She somehow managed to get a picture of Ace and Zoro in full costumes making out that no one can explain.

She watches the two of them for a moment before quietly backing out, smiling the whole time. She has so many plans for these two now.

I feel like Zoro would not care about awards at all, but notices that Law gets a bit more bitchy when award season comes around. Which means it does matter to him (even though he hasn't cared about them with past projects, the Sora show is very important to him. He just wants to see it get the recognition it deserves). So when there is a surprise upset and Zoro ends up winning Best Supporting Actor In A Drama Series, he doesn't even give a real speech but whatever. But when they end up landing Best Drama Series and all his co-workers erupt in excitement, Zoro can't help getting caught up in Law's barely hidden gleefulness and without thinking grabs him, pulling him in for a kiss.

Not even like a /good/ kiss. Less "I'm going to absolutely devour you", more "I'm so happy for you" mixed with a touch of, "God you're so cute when you get all over excited you dork". He has to lean down two rows, over Luffy's head, to grab Law by the back of his jacket just to pull him in for a quick, sloppy kiss. But it still managed to shock the fuck out of Law. He's so used to being the one to flirt with/tease an embarrassed Zoro that the kiss is more surprising than the win.

Luffy totally gives him a thumbs up of approval and well done high five that Law does not remember at all. Luckily for him, he accepts the award alongside Mihawk, Shanks, Hiyori, Jinbe and Benn so he isn't actually expected to speak at all. Which is a good thing, because even by the time backstage interviews start he's still a little lost. Not helped by reports straight up asking him about the kiss.

Thank God Shanks can talk about anything for forever. Benn mercifully removes Law from in front of cameras and let's Shanks dazzle/annoy them with another "When RedHawk Productions was just starting out....." story that he has an endless supply of

Corazon - the show runner from the first show Law ever worked on, who took Law under his wing - finds Law almost immediately and pulls him into a hug. Law finally starts to shake out if it and thanks Corazon for his support and believing him, congratulating him on the success of his miniseries Dressrosa, etc.

Corazon is immediately in there with, "Why didn't you tell me? Who is that boy? I mean I know who the boy is. Why didn't you tell me you were dating Roronoa Zoro!? Oh my God, is what they said about him and those two actresses true!? Is he going to do that to you? How could you not tell me!"

@randommouseclick

Law: Boa's trying to get into Mugiwara-ya's shorts, Perona's along for kicks and Zoro's a fucking himbo who's interested in neither.

Law: Do you REALLY think I'd let him get away with that shit, if it WAS true?

@gildedmuse

Corazon just WORRIES. Law is so innocent in certain ways. Cora doesn't want him to be taken advantage of.

Anyone Who Has Ever Met Law: Umm......

Corazon, Prior To Meeting Zoro: Anyway, *lights a cigarette while calm and collected* I'll speak with him first to make certain. No point getting attached to a bad element.

Corazon, Upon Meeting Zoro: Oh my God! *Pulls Zoro into a hug, tears streaming down eyes* Thank you so much for loving Law! I'm sure you two will be happy together for the rest of your lives.

Corazon making some poor camera man take pictures of the two of them like it's fucking prom.

Nami is Zoro's agent. Switching from representing a Stunt Coordinator/Performer to an actor with a starring role in what eventually turns out to be a hugely popular series had not been in her plans. On the one hand, her cut just went from 6 to 10 percent, and on top of his general pay raise that makes for a rather good take away. On the other hand, her job just got way more complicated. Stunt guys rarely have whole sections of the internet dedicated to them. They certainly don't end up with their picture in the trades alongside names like Boa Hancock. She's definitely had to earn that additional 4%.

Her main goal is to convince Zoro to keep taking similar (paying) roles while keeping him as far from the press as possible. Because every time you put this boy in front of a camera without a script it's a goddamn disaster. If he somehow managed not to piss off the media establishment due to him not giving a fuck then his fans - when the hell did Zoro get fans? She took this kid on as a favor! It was supposed to be easy - are probably throwing an absolute fit.

When this phenomena first starts happening with Hancock she calls up in a panic. WHY is Zoro always being photographed around her? Please don't say he's trying to hit on Boa Fucking Hancock. Do you know how fast that woman could sink his career? Possibly even Nami's!? That's how powerful this woman is and for god's sake won't Zoro just stay away. The press is having a goddamn field day wondering what their relationship is and Nami is shocked Hancock's personal security hasn't escorted him off the set of his own TV show.

By the time he kisses Law, Nami has learned to just roll with the punches. She's watching the ceremony live. Less than thirty seconds after it happens her phone blows up. This time it's the fans who are wondering who this mysterious sexy stranger is (a question that is answered literally less than a minute later when the show introduce who will be accepting the award, but that doesn't stop the topic from somehow trending), freaking out about Zoro maybe being gay, and theorizing about Hancock and Perona helping him stay in the closet by manufacturing all that drama. This is almost three years since he was hired for the show so by now Nami just shoots him a text like, "You're probably going to be asked about kissing that man since you did it on camera in the middle of the award show".

She is a little afraid when she gets the reply "laws realt cute when hes all happy huhh??" But only because it means Zoro's drunk. She's never actually seen Zoro drunk. She's not sure how much alcohol it would have taken. But she just texts her friend Robin to let her know if Zoro dies of alcohol poisoning and then heads into bed. That's how chill she's gotten over the last three years (also it's 12% now that he's won an award).

[catb-fics]

Vampire Van fic as requested! Not actually thought out a storyline past this chapter yet so if anyone’s got any thoughts/suggestions let me know... Special thanks to @fuellingmyfix for the vanpire pics 😘 

Happy Halloween everyone!  🧛‍♂️ 🎃 👻 💀

Love Bites (Van McCann) Part 1

Warnings: none for this part... / Word Count: 2.5k

You appraise your reflection in the full-length mirror, turning this way and that. You're wearing a figure-hugging black dress in the softest satin material with a plunging neckline. It trails on the floor and has a deep slit right up to mid-thigh.

"I don't know, do you think it looks too slutty?"

Your best friend Emma shakes her head emphatically. "Y/N... Halloween is the only night of the year that you can actually get away with dressing slutty and no one cares!"

"So it does look slutty?" You say, adjusting your cleavage, wondering whether the push-up bra you've put on was a step too far.

Emma giggles, linking her arm through yours and steering you in the direction of the door. "Honey... if you've got it, flaunt it! That's what I say!"

The Halloween party you're both attending is in the more affluent area of town and you take in the huge, sprawling, four-storey house as you walk down the driveway.

"Who is this guy again?" You ask your friend, feeling a little wary.

Emma waves a hand dismissively. "Oh, he's just a friend of a friend. I don't actually know him personally. Apparently he's just moved here a few months ago. And his parties have a reputation for being amazing."

The house looks every part the perfect setting for a Halloween soirée, it's dark and shadowy, and there's a distinct sense of foreboding that lingers as you reach the front door. Emma grabs the ornate door knocker and you listen as the sound echoes as it strikes the heavy wooden door. Long minutes seem to pass and you're just about to suggest that you walk away when the door starts to open with a creepy creaking noise. To your surprise there's no one standing there and you peer inside into the deep shadows.

"Hello?" You utter uncertainly.

Silence.

"Maybe we should go..." you start, but Emma takes your hand and pulls you inside.

"Come on Y/N," she urges.

"But it doesn't even seem like there's a party here. It's so quiet. Maybe it's the wrong house."

"No, it's definitely the right place," Emma says and you both step forward.

Without warning the door slams shut behind you both, and the noise is so loud you practically jump out of your skin.

"Fuck!" You cry out, your heart racing, both turning around in shock.

"It was probably just the wind," Emma says, but her voice doesn't sound so sure.

You're feeling decidedly uneasy now. The house is even creepier inside than it looks from the outside, it's bathed in shadows and it's eerily quiet. There's a huge grand staircase running up from the ground floor and an elaborate chandelier hanging from the ceiling which gives off a muted glow. The only sound is the loud ticking noise coming from the tall grandfather clock standing against the far wall.

"This place is giving me the creeps. I think we should just go," you say. It's not cold, but you can feel goosebumps breaking out all over your body.

"Ladies!" A deep voice sounds from behind you and you both whirl around.

"Christ! Where did you come from?" Emma exclaims, addressing the tall figure who seems to have literally materialised from nowhere.

"Did I frighten you?"

You go to speak but the words catch in your throat as you take in the man standing in front of you. He's tall and slim with hair that falls long around his ears and curls at the collar of the black shirt he's wearing. His skin's as pale as porcelain and his lips are full and pink. His eyes are ice cold blue but somehow there's fire in them too. They're mesmerising and you can feel yourself being drawn in.

"You about gave me a fucking heart attack!" Emma blurts out loudly and this breaks the apparent trance you've been in. You glance down, embarrassed that you've been so obviously staring.

"I do apologise," the man addresses Emma, but his eyes are firmly fixed on you. You can feel a slight flush rising to your cheeks. He's bloody gorgeous.

"I'm Van," he says and he reaches out a hand.

Emma introduces herself and you watch as he takes her hand and plants a kiss on the back of it. Despite him greeting your friend he doesn't take his eyes off you and you feel self-conscious under his alluring gaze.

"Hi... I'm Y/N," you say, and Van reaches for your hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing it.

His lips are cool but you feel like a spark of electricity emanates from them as they connect with your skin. You can't help the sharp intake of breath you make and you know Van's heard it by the way his lips pull into a small smile.

"Welcome to my home, come on... the party's this way," he says, and you feel a sense of relief as he turns away and you're released from his gaze.

You glance at Emma whose eyes are wide and she's wearing the biggest smile. She nudges you excitedly and you can't help but grin back at her. You both follow Van down a long, dark hallway and your ears begin to pick up the sounds of music as you near your destination. There's a huge wooden door at the end of the corridor and Van stops there before flinging it open and beckoning you both inside.

The room is huge and it's filled with party-goers standing and sitting around, chatting and drinking. You feel a little bit of the tension start to leave your body as you take in the scene, it looks like any other regular party you might attend... apart from the luxurious setting of course.

Van offers to get you both a drink and you gratefully accept, then he turns to walk away and you watch him go. He moves so gracefully it's almost like he's floating on air.

"Oh my god look at this place!" Emma's practically squealing beside you. "Van must be loaded!"

"Yeah," you breathe as you look around in wonder. The room is tastefully furnished and everything looks antique.

"And he's so into you!" Emma nudges you again.

You feel a little fizz of excitement in the pit of your belly at her comment, but you hardly dare to believe it.

"I doubt it," you say, modest as ever, but Emma's not hearing any of it.

"Y/N! He couldn't take his eyes off you! I swear it looked like he wanted to rip that dress off you and fuck you right there in the hallway!"

"Oh my god Emma!" You cry, your cheeks going crimson at the thought. "Shhh... he's coming back over!"

Van passes you and Emma a tall glass of something sparkling, and his fingertips lightly brush yours. Now he's back you can feel yourself tense again. Your mind scrambles for something charismatic to say but all you can manage is, "Great party! This is a lovely place you've got."

You cringe inwardly, thinking how dull you must sound, but the looks Van's giving you suggest he's thinking anything but. You start to wonder whether maybe Emma is right.

"You know, I think it's the people not the place that make a good party, don't you?" He says, then he adds. "And this party just got infinitely more interesting..."

Oh my god, he's a charmer that's for sure. Emma is looking at you with the same wide-eyed stare she had earlier and to your surprise she suddenly steps forward, glancing around like she's looking for someone.

"Y/N, I've just seen one of my brother's mates, Craig. You know the one, always stoned, got in trouble for selling gear to those school-kids last year. I'm just gonna go and say hi. You stay and chat to Van for a bit..."

"Emma..." you call after her but it's too late. She's already backing away, a gleeful kind of look on her face at the prospect of leaving you alone with Van, and his amused expression suggests that it’s clear that he knows exactly what's going on.

"So... looks like it's just me and you then Y/N," he says, leaning into you slightly.

You're suddenly gripped with awkwardness. "Oh, don't feel like you've got to stay with me, I'm okay. You're the host of the party and all... I'll be fine on my own..."

You smile at Van, raising your glass in a kind of friendly gesture, expecting him to politely back off, but he just stands there looking at you.

"Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"Oh... I didn't mean that... I just... I don't know..." You stumble over your words, trailing off, embarrassed that he's having such an effect on you.

He laughs, a low throaty chuckle. "I'm only teasing. Come on, come and sit with me." 

He steps away, beckoning you to follow him and you do. He leads you over to the far corner of the room, and sits down on a chaise-longue covered in deep red velvet, patting the space next to him. You take a seat, and your dress falls open as you do, revealing your legs right up to the tops of your thighs.

"Oops!" You giggle, immediately shooting out a hand to cover yourself.

Van's eyes rake down your body and he takes his time, not even trying to be discreet about it. It occurs to you that you'd be offended if any other guy so brazenly checked you out, but you actually want Van to desire you. You take a deep breath, letting go of the material, letting the satin slide off your legs, exposing them again. Van shifts in his seat, pressing his thigh right up to yours.

"Mmm... that's a pretty dress." His voice is smooth. "But you do realise that this is a costume party don't you?"

"Yeah, I don't wear this kinda thing all the time you know! I'm supposed to be a vampire... Dracula's bride or something."

Van's smile widens. "Oh? Well I don't see any fangs."

"I couldn't get them to stick, useless things," you giggle. "And anyway, what about you? You're not dressed up."

"Maybe I'm a vampire too..." His grin is cheeky now, and you start to feel yourself relax a little.

"Well... where's your fangs then?"

He pauses, then leans closer. "Close your eyes..." he whispers mysteriously.

You giggle, doing as you're asked, putting your hands over your eyes, waiting.

"You can look now..."

Woah! As you open your eyes you note two perfectly pointed white fangs between his slightly parted lips and you watch as he slowly runs his tongue over them. For some reason the action seems blatantly seductive, and you can feel your whole body flood with heat.

"Oh... errr... they look so realistic!" You stammer, pulse racing as his eyes seem to shimmer with some sort of hypnotic quality which you find you can't look away from.

"Mmm... they're sharp too... come a little closer...”

All of a sudden he's leaning in so close you're forced to lean back, and you feel one of his hands flush against your back and the other around your waist as he brings his body close to yours. His face is so close to your neck you swear you can feel his lips brush against your skin. You gasp at the sensation, completely caught off guard.

Just as suddenly he rights himself, but his hands remain still splayed on your waist, his eyes burning with a look that sends shivers right through you.

"What is that fragrance you're wearing?" He says, his voice a deep whisper. "It's... intoxicating..."

You've literally just met this guy and he's pressing himself against you with the familiarity of a lover. You shift to the side, feeling shook, and he releases you, although he keeps his eyes trained on yours.

"Umm... it's Chanel..." you mumble shyly, looking down at your feet.

You spot the glass of champagne that you'd placed on the floor, stooping to pick it up as a distraction, but in your flustered state you manage to catch the glass with your foot. The glass tips to the side, instantly shattering into what looks a million pieces, the contents flowing out all over the floor.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry!" You exclaim, and you immediately rise up out of your seat and then drop to your knees to clear up the mess.

"Leave it Y/N, it's fine," you hear Van say, but you're so embarrassed about the mess you've created that you keep your head down, attempting to scoop up the broken glass.

"Ow! Shit!" A jagged piece of glass catches your finger, creating a deep gash which instantly fills with blood and you curse out loud.

But that's not the worst thing. As you glance up at Van he's staring at you with eyes as cold as shards of ice, his lips pulled back into what could almost be described as a snarl. You feel genuine fear flash through you for a second, scrambling to your feet and stepping back. Van advances on you, shooting out a hand to grasp the wrist of your injured hand.

"I’m sorry... I'm so sorry," you repeat, trying to pull your arm away but his grip is vice-like.

"You should go!" He snaps, his voice sharp with not a hint of the charm he's been displaying all evening. He releases your wrist suddenly, pushing with force, making you stumble backwards.

You start to panic, desperately glancing around to find Emma. Your altercation with Van has raised some attention and the loud background chatter has started to tail off, and you see her rushing over looking concerned.

"What's up Y/N?"

You don't have chance to answer. Van's voice booms out suddenly. "Get out!" He commands.

The DJ stops the music, and the whole room suddenly falls silent. You're frozen in shock for a moment, until you feel Emma's hand wrap around yours, and she's pulling you towards the door. You drop your head in shame and confusion as you both exit, rushing down the corridor you were lead down earlier, not stopping until you've pushed the front door open and you're out in the cool night air.

"What the fuck was that?" Emma starts exclaiming instantly.

You just shake your head, feeling so unsettled by the whole experience that you can actually feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "I... I don't know... we were getting on so well... and then I went and smashed a glass..."

You lift your cut hand up, and the blood is flowing out the gash now and dripping on to the floor. Some has splashed on to your bare legs.

"What the hell?" Emma cries, rushing forward and grabbing your injured hand for closer inspection. "You did this and he's kicking up a fuss about a broken glass?"

"I know! I don't get it!" You sob. "Maybe it was like antique crystal or something..."

Emma looks incredulous. "Don't make excuses! He completely overreacted. Come on, Y/N... let's get you home so we can look at that cut."

You nod, blinking back the tears, glancing back at the house as you make your way back up the the long, winding driveway. You think you see a shadowy reflection at one of the upper windows but when you blink it's gone.

Read Part 2 now...

[5-seconds-of-fuck-me-please]

I Do. (Post 1/2) (part 1 of ?)

Ashton.

"I just want a nice, normal guy to sweep me off my feet, and support my carmel vanilla coffee addiction. Is that so much to ask?!"

My best friend gave me an amused glance before dropping her gaze back towards her phone. I swear, that girl could hold two conversations face to face, surf facebook, and hold a buisness Skype call, all at the same time. A.D.D., they name is Rae.

"I've set you up on five dates so far, and you havent lasted longer then ten minutes with any of them," she countered. "So how about this...you tell me your dream guy, and I'll work off of that."

I sighed, tapping my foot nervously against the metal rung of the coffee shop table. I was always fidgeting. Whether it was shaking my foot, drumming my nails along the table, or pacing aimlessly around, I was always moving.

"I don't know," I sighed out on a breath. Picking up my iced vanilla, butterscotch, and chai latte, I took a sip before responding. "Dont you know anyone that actually has a life?"

Rae glanced up at me, cocking an eyebrow. "A life? Like, the other 5 were dead?"

I groaned. "The first guy had the ambition of a goldfish. Second guy wanted me to move into his mother's basement with him. Third guy was perfectly content to be a cashier th erest of his life and didnt want to even think about making more than minimum wage or he would loose government assistance.....shall I go on?"

Rae gave a throaty chuckle, causing three random guys to stop their conversations and look her way. She just had that way about her.

"Tell you what," she mused out loud. "Since the last five was a complete disaster, and I thought they would have been perfect for you, the next guy I pick will be the one who I think you'll hate the most. So.... Here's what I want from you. You pick what you want him to wear. You pick if you want flowers or not. And you pick the place to meet for drinks, dinner, movie...whatever. deal?"

I thought about it for a moment, the shrugged. "Fine. I want to come here. This coffee shop. No flowers. No expectations. I'll even pay for the both of our drinks. But he has to have a job. A good job. Or at least have a goal in mind," I amended.

Rae nodded. "Tell me more. Actually, tell me your dream. What's your fantasy date for this coffee. Close your eyes and describe the guy to me. What is he wearing. What does he look like. What is he drinking?"

I laughed, but saw the amusement in her eyes. Deciding to play along, I closed my eyes and tilted my head slightly back.

"White button down shirt with the sleeves rolled back a bit. Nice jeans, probably faded with a hole in the leg," I laughed out. "Gorgeous smile because he laughs a whole lot and has an amazing sense of humor. Eyes that are kind and sparkle. Shaggy hair that probably falls into his eyes...." I trailed off.

"Sounds like quite the catch," Rae laughed out on a breath. She sounded amused, which kind of worried me a bit.

I opened my eyes and glanced at her. "Why do you sound like you just ate a canary?"

Rae's eyes sparkled as she tried to suppress a smile. "I know who would be perfect for you, and...he should be here in about two minutes."

My jaw dropped to the floor. "What?! Theres no way you could have called someone and set it up so fast. You had this planned!" I shrieked. Not because she set me up, but because she didnt warn me.

I was dressed in my -I dont give a shit, today is my day off- clothes. A pair of faded dark grey sweatpants with a hole in the left knee, dark green jumper with a faded brand logo running down the arm, and hair unbrushed and tossed into a messy bun. Plus I was still wearing yesterdays makeup which had faded to a lovely raccoon inspired look.

"This wasnt a setup," she argued lovingly, tossing her hands up to her side quickly. "Swear it. You know i was meeting a few friends here today. One of them would be perfect for you."

I eyed her warily. "The so-called friends that are mysteriously out of the country doing something tha you refuse to tell me, along with their names? The ones who you are best friends with...yet I know nothing about, and we have been best friends since middle school?!" I mused, scrunching my nose up at the thought.

Granted, my and Rae are best friends for over 15 years now, but there was a random 2 year period where were were heavily into the party and drug scene. We kinda split ways and didnt talk for 2 years, then both of us, separately, decided to get our lives in order and somehow reconnected as if nothing had happened.

Strange how life works out.

"They aren't...." I trailed off.

"They were, " she nodded. "Not anymore tho. I used to hang out and binge with them tho. They cleaned their lives up as well. Just took them longer."

I nodded, glancing down at my almost empty iced coffee as I dragged my nails along the styrofoam, making patterns on the cup. "I'm willing to give it a go I guess. Coffee never hurt anyone, right?"

"Right," she agreed, glancing down once again to her phone to resume whatever multi-conversation she was having.

I didnt realize until a few minutes later that I was humming and singing along the the songs playing over the cafe speakers.

"Do you like this band?" She asked randomly, not taking her focus from her phone.

"Love them," I remarked, not really paying attention. "I just got their new album yesterday actually."

She made a small chuckle. "Let me guess then...you were always a guitar or lead singer chick. So.... Luke?"

I grinned, breaking my gaze away from all the pretty little designs my nails etched into my now empty coffee cup. " Usually , yes you would have been correct. And while he is hot, as is the othe guitarist...my heart lies elsewhere in the band."

"Bassist?" She chanced, finally placing her phone down and looking up. Her eyes darted over my shoulder, then came back to focus on my face. A grin broke out, smile so wide it reminded me of the Cheshire cat.

"Um, nooo," I drawled. "I actually seemed to be drawn to.....why the hell are you staring a time like that?!" I asked, breaking the conversation. "You look fucking creepy."

Her eyes seemed to dart over my shoulder again to where the cashier counter was, then back to me again. "So the drummer then?" She mused, not bothering to hide the grin. "You have a thing for the drummer?"

I continued to stare at her, trying to puzzle out what the hell was making her act so weird. "Yeah...?" I dragged out.

"Hmmm, and why would that be? I'm honestly curious. Usually you always go for the guitar rock-God type for looks."

I cocked my head to the side. "You really want an answer?"

Rae grinned again. Nodding her head emphatically. "Oh yes. Please, by all means."

I shrugged, taking the last small sip from my coffee. "He always seemed the most put together. Knows how to laugh, but always seems polite. Has an amazing voice, but would rather be in the background playing his heart out. And he gives out total Daddy vibes," I joked. "Plus, he is seriously hot. They all are in that band actually."

Rae burst out laughing, covering her mouth with both hands. I swear, tears started to form in her eyes.

I just stared at her. "Seriously Rae, what has gotten into you today?! What's so funny?"

Her eyes darted behind me once again, but this time she nodded. I didnt even have a chance to turn around to see what she was looking at before an arm snaking over my shoulder, placing a styrofoam cup in front of me.

"You can call me Daddy if you feel the need to, but I prefer Ashton on a first date," a voice said.

I closed my eyes tightly, slowly opening them as panic filled me. My eyes traveled from the coffee, up to a bare forearm dusted in dark golden hair, to a shoulder and chest that had a white button shirt...sleeves rolled back.

Damn, but did Rae tell him how to dress?

He smirked at my dazed expression, while Rae finally got herself under control. "I didnt tell him," she rasped out, still trying to hide the amusement as she spoke. " He really was randomly dressed like that to come here."

Ashton raised a brow as he pulled up a chair, leaning over to give Rae a quick one-armed hug before sitting on the chair backwards between us.

He reached over, palm up while smiling at me. "She did however, demand that I randomly walk in and order you a vanilla butterscotch coffee without even telling me your name, or why I was buying you one. I'm being set up on a date, I take it?" He questioned again, glancing to Rae for affirmation before looking back at me, then down to his still extended hand. "Do I get a name? Or should I introduce myself again?"

I shook my head, trying to snap out of the surreal experience going on. Placing my hand in his, I cleared my throat. "You're Daddy, right?" I smirked, trying to fight the blush rising on my face. God, but do I hope he can take the joke.

His face split into a grin, laugh bursting out of his lips. "I like her," he chuckled, looking over to Rae. " This one actually knows what a joke is."

I grinned at that as he looked back at me. "I take it that Rae has tried setting you up before as well?" I questioned.

He nodded, a faint smile still gracing his lips. "One girl who decided living in her car way her dream goal. One who only ate foods that were yellow. And one who wanted to be a psychologist because she didnt understand how people laughed or why we smile at things."

My eyes went wide. "Wow. And here I thought I had it bad with the guy who only showered on days it rained cause that's how the bathtub got refilled."

Ashton let out another bark of laughter, breaking eye contact to speak to Rae once again. " You suck at setting people up. You know that?"

She raised a brow at that, stopping her cup of coffee in mid air before she could take a sip. "Oh, so should I not have introduced the two of you?" She asked, feigning a look of hurt. "And here I thought you were getting along fairly well."

Ashton shook his head. "Are you kidding me? this girl is horrible! Wont tell me her name, wont call me by mine, and she laughs at everything I say!" He rambled out. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, but he didnt stop looking at her.

"And he isnt the greatest catch either, " I added. "Eavesdropped a private conversation, assumed I wanted him to pay for something. I didn't ask for without asking me. And he wont let me go," I added, flicking my gaze down to our still entwined hands.

Rae nodded, a huge, fake sight escaping past her parted lips. " okay, I give up. Sorry to waste your time, Ash. I'll take her home and be back in a few minutes to catch up with you all. I assume the others are on the way?" She asked, standing up and motioning for me to follow.

Ashton shook his head. " They are on the way. But you cant take her."

Without warning, he turned and licked a wet line up my jaw. "I licked her. Shes mine now."

My jaw dropped open, but rae looked amused. "Are you gunna pee on her too?"

He turned to look at me finally, slightly swaying our hands back and forth. "Is that your kink?"

"What?! No! Why would you ask that?!"

He shrugged. "Well, I know you have a Daddy kink, just had to be sure."

"I do NOT have a Daddy kink!" I hissed out, trying to pull my hand out from his grasp. "And why the hell did you lick me?"

He was having none of it. Keeping hold of my hand, he slowly brought it up to his lips and kissed the back of my hand before finally releasing his hold. "Cause I wanted to see what you tasted like. Vanilla, I like it." He winked.

"You do have a daddy kink," Rae interjected, laughing through her words. "I'm going to go get another coffee and grab 2 other tables for the guys. You two enjoy yourselves."

Ashton glanced at me before looking at Rae. "If I did that, we would be arrested and barred from this shop."

I think my heart stopped. Was I breathing?

"Mind if I go grab myself a drink?"

I blinked, trying to focus on his face once again. "Didn't you just order one while you were up there?"

He shook his head. "Only ordered yours. I wasnt sure if I wanted to stay once she told me she had a girl with her for me to meet."

"And now you are sure you want to stay?" I questioned.

He smiled. A sweet smile that lit up his eyes. "I think you are fucking perfect."

I blushed at that. "Yeah, right. Cause messy girl with raccoon eyes in your kink, right?"

He gave me an amusing look. "Like a guy in jeans and a white shirt is yours?" He retorted. A small sigh left his lips as he pulled out his phone and scrolled through a few messages. Once he found what he was looking for, he stopped and put the phone down on the table in front of me.

Raelyn- her fantasy sounds like you, in a white button down and a pair of worn out skinny Jean's. Just get your asses here!

Ash-and you are so sure I would like her? I sisnt agree to another date with your wacky high maintenance friends. They just want a sugar daddy.

Raelyn- shes sitting here in pajamas, messy hair, and yesterdays makeup. And she insists on buying our coffees every week. Still wanna pass her up?

Ash- ....be there in 5.

Raelyn- get her a butterscotch vanilla iced coffee.

Ash- thought she didnt want people to buy her shit?

Raelyn- then get it for me.

Ash- do I have to buy flowers or anything?

Raelyn- only if you want her to hit you with them.

Ash- I like her already.

I glanced up at Ashton, a small smile gracing my face. "So I guess it's my turn to buy you a coffee?"

He shrugged, swinging his leg back over the chair to sit down backwards on it once again. "If you insist. Pick whatever you think I would like."

I grinned this time. " whipped cream, cherries, and handcuffs?" I joked.

He beamed at me. "Nah, that's the second date. And woulsnt you know it....you already know what to call me then," he teased.

I laughed, walking away to get him a drink. I slid up alongside Rae, elbowing her in the side gently. "Are the other three coming?"

She smiled at me. "Yeah, be here any minute."

The barista asked up for our orders, while I pushed Rae's card back towards her. "I got them."

"That's 7 drinks you are paying for today," she reminded me.

"Glad your good at math," I remarked. "You can get the next round. And if they like me as a friend and we hang out in the future we can all take turns. If not, then I get to say that they are forever indebted to me. Win-win I say."

She shrugged, but didnt argue. "Fair play, that. I'll go shove the tables together and be back to help you carry them all."

But it wasnt her who came back over when the order was ready. It was Michael.

"HI," he practically yelled, squeezing me in a tight bear hug. "I'm Michael. Or Mike. Whatever."

"You seem overly happy to meet a stranger, " I laughed out, hugging him back just as tight before letting go.

"You made ashton happy," he shrugged, a huge smile on his face. "Anyone who can make his smile in the first few minutes of meeting him...especially lately, deserves to be treated like the fucking queen they are."

My brows shot up at that. "I'm a queen now. High praise. Does that make you the court jester?" I asked, handing him a cardboard tray with 4 drinks in it.

He grinned. "Sure. Anything else you wish me to carry, m'lady?"

I laughed and gave a curtsey. "Not at this time, good sir. Go forth and conquer the bistro que!"

Michael laughed, draping an arm across my shoulder while walking back to the now full tables. He set his 4 drinks down, then took one out of my hand and gave it to Rae before distributing the 4 he had.

"They're marked, and we all drink the same shit every time we go out," he explained. "The one you have is the only one I dont recognize so I assumed it is yours."

I shook my head and resumed my seat next to Ashton, with Luke next to me on the other side now. Michael and Calum were sat across from me. "Its for Ashton actually. He bought me my coffee and forgot to get his own."

"Trying to ditch her," Calum asked.

"Nope." Ashton stated. Simple. Direct. One word.

"Finally found a girl that will put up with your crazy-ass for longer than 10 minutes?" Like remarked.

"Gunna marry this one, mate," Ashton laughed out.

"Shit, you move fast," Michael snorted. "And here I was being engaged for over a year already. What am I doing wrong?"

"You actually asked your fiancee," Luke answered. "Ashton will just be standing in front of the magistrate with a blowup doll."

Everyone laughed, including me Ashton fake pouted, poking me in the side before lacing his fingers through mine. My heart gave a little flitter, but I didnt pull away.

"Come on, Love, you're supposed to defend our relationship!"

I chuckled. "Yes sir. Would you like to get married now, sir? I think I still have my old bicycle pump in my garage if you need it. And some duct tape in case your fiancee gets a hole."

He threw his head back and laughed, tightening his grip on my hand. Not hard, but in acknowledgment that it was a good laugh. "Fuck the lot of you."

"Damn, already cheating on me. And with three other men no less," I crooned, pouting my lips.

That caused another round of laughter.

"I think I'm in love with your girlfriend, " Calum huffed out. "She knows how to give back shit we dish out."

"Dont be hitting on my wife," Ashton fake growled. "I worked hard on this relationship!"

"Oh yeah? What's her name?" Rae jumped in, bemused laughter lacing each word.

A slow silence fell across the table, followed by abrupt laughter for everyone.

"Oh. My. God. You didnt even ask her what her name is yet?!" Michael bellowed, tears forming in his eyes. "I can see it now. The priest standing there like do you take this girl for your wife? And you being like, who's that?"

"Fuck all of you," Ashton gasped out through laughter again. "I'm gunna marry her one day and then shes gunna kick your asses for making fun of me."

I grinned, reaching over to poke my finger into his dimple. "Yeah? I'll kick their asses for you if you ask, darling." I agreed. "Just as soon as you get my attention and ask me. Oooh, right. You can't. Dont know my name," I beamed.

He threw back his head and chuckled. "Fuck you too, sweetheart," he remarked, leaning over to place a quick kiss to my cheek.

"Only if you scream my name out while you do," I joked.

"Fuck, but do I love a smart mouth," he agreed.

The conversation flowed easily. Two more rounds of drinks were bought over the course of a few hours, until the cafe was getting ready to close.

We all agreed to meet up next weekend, have enjoyed each others company and realizing the six of us were going to be amazing friends.

"Can we bring our girls next week?" Luke asked.

"Hell yeah " I agreed readily. "Me and Rae need all the help we can get against you four."

[adelheidvonschicksal]

My emotions hurt you guys. I don’t know why I do this to myself.

I just can't say I don't love you 'Cause I love you, yeah

-

Don’t trust other people. Only interact when necessary.

That’s the code Katsuki tries to live by in this world gone wrong. Tried is probably the better word. Ever since he met you, he finds that he breaks a lot of his own rules. In his mind, he knows better than to trust some person he met on the road. Zombies only wanted one thing and that was to eat your insides out. There was no gray to that world, only kill before they kill you. Humans, however, he could never seem to figure out what was truly going on in their damn heads. Katsuki has seen the leftovers of too many scenes of trust gone wrong, too many bodies destroyed and safe houses looted by fellow humans.

Still, he had trusted you. Even though people were a liability, he followed you and your little group of friends. He couldn’t say for certain why he did. Maybe it was how your skills with a bow and knife were the best he’s seen, how you carried yourself just as well, if not better, than he did, or how the way your voice sounded so sweet and alluring when you asked him to travel together back to the house your group of three had made into a bunker. He can’t deny the fact that being alone for so long left him empty inside. His natural instincts called out desperately for companionship that it made your offer too alluring to turn down.

Katsuki can’t say he ever regretted a second of living with you. There were arguments and miscommunications as natural in any friendship, but that didn’t erase the times when you would sit next to him around the fireplace and lean your head against his shoulder when you were tired while the soft smile on your face made warm by orange flickering light would be aimed his way. Your lips were even warmer on his own right before your tongue would enter his mouth.

Now, that feature is cold and blue, and your body shakes on the bed the group had laid you in. Your eyes look up at him as he slides a rag along the crook of your neck, adding a little pressure to your wound. The bite keeps festering despite every cream and pill that he throws at it to try to find something that works or could delay it longer. 

“It’s gotten worse, hasn’t it?”

He grunts, removing the rag. “It’s just a nick. Go to sleep, and I’ll go try to find some more painkillers.”

You sigh and lean back against the pillow as Katsuki walks out and back down the stairs to hear the conversation he knew that would happen eventually. He stares and listens from halfway up the steps at your other two comrades.

“We’ll have to kill them soon.”

“Do you want me--”

“I’ll do it,” your first group mate says and takes the gun from the second. He turns and heads up the stairs, not bothering to address Katsuki as he tries to squeeze by the blonde.

Katsuki pauses him on the stairs with only a glare and a deathly low growl. “Where the hell do you think you’re going with that?”

“You already know where.”

“You’re not going to (Name)’s room.”

The boy scoffs, trying to continue on, and Katsuki pushes your group mate against the railing, grasping him by his collar so he doesn’t tip over. “It’s your fault (Name) is like this in the first place! If you hadn’t fucked around—“

Then, the second interrupts. “Bakugo, back off! We care about (Name), too, but we all know in a few days that won’t be our friend anymore.”

Katsuki sneers. If they actually cared, it shouldn’t have been that easy for them to accept that you were gone when you were still here. Katsuki pulls the gun away and shoves it in his belt before pushing your friend away with a serious threat, no, promise, “Fucking touch them, and I’ll feed your sorry asses to the hoard.”

The boy gasps before glaring at Katsuki. “Be that way, but you know we’re right.”

Katsuki pauses, ignoring the declaration before continuing out the front door to go search the town for any more medicine.

That night, you hear footsteps coming up the steps late. A weak groan leaves your throat as you hoist your body into a sitting position and wait. The first thing you see is the neck of a pistol pushing your door open before Katsuki steps in your room.

It was only a matter of time before this decision would be made. Your heart swells with fear as it sunk in that these were your final moments. The only consolation is that you get to tell Katsuki goodbye this way. You open your mouth to do just that but he cuts you off with an eerily calm demand.

“Come on. We’re leaving.”

-

You're scared to be lonely 'Specially in the night I'm scared that I'll miss you Happens every time

-

You don’t know how far you traveled over the coming days. Katsuki was the one to keep you up and moving towards the unknown to find a new safe house. 

Every day, you could feel yourself getting worse. You could start to see it in your tone that turned a sickly gray, the veins that protrude against the thinnest layers of your skin, and the only real warmth in your body was from Katsuki’s own when he touched you. You knew he could see it, too, but never did he say anything.

You couldn’t count how many times over this short period that Katsuki almost died because you were too slow to keep up in this state. Now, he spent most of the time hauling you and the equipment on his back. You felt like such a burden, but you were afraid to be without him for the short time you had left.

At this rate, you were going to get him killed. You didn’t want that even if that meant the end of your life.

-

Even though we're going through it And it makes you feel alone

-

“Katsuki, I’m tired.”

“We’ll rest in a minute,” he answers, and you sigh as he quietly trudges through the abandoned town.

“No, I’m tired of this...” you explain and slowly loosen your arms from around his neck to drop onto your feet. He’s forced to pause as you lean up against the side of a building for support. You suck in a shaky breath and slowly release. “We both know I don’t have another day in me so let me stay here, and you can go back to the safe house. I’m sure the others are still there.”

“You’re not dead yet so get up and let’s go, (Name),” he responds in frustration, but it’s really a different way to say he wasn’t going to leave you until your pulse officially stopped, regardless of how pointless it was to carry around someone who might as well be written off as dead.

“Katsuki, please, if it’s not today, it’ll just be tomorrow. I don’t want to wait until I change, I-I don’t want you to see me like that.” You cough fitfully into your fist before finally finding enough peace to speak again. ”I need you to kill me.”

“I’m not shooting you.”

He didn’t even hesitate to say it. He can’t imagine going back on his own, having to accept a life without you in it again, not after all this. You sigh, knowing that would be his answer. Slowly, you lift your arm and hold out your palm. “Then, I’ll do it myself. Give me the gun.”

“You’re not getting the damn gun.”

You glare at him, a curse leaving you. “Stop being an idiot! I just want to get this over with already!”

Katsuki yells, “What’s wrong with you! Stop trying to act like you’re fine with this!”

“I’m not!” you screamed back before quieting your voice down again and slumping down into a sitting position. The fat drops of tears finally escape your eyes, draining you of what little your human body had left to give. “I’m scared. I don’t want this to be it...I don’t want to be without you. I love you so much that it hurts to leave you. I’m sorry. If I hadn’t messed up, this wouldn’t be happening.”

You groan in pain as he sits down next to you. He drops the bags and pulls out the pistol from behind him. He presses his lips to yours, hard and passionate against your own that were too weak to give more than half of the same affection back even though you wanted to show him you felt just the same amount. 

Slowly, he pulls away, keeping red eyes in contact with yours. “It’s all right. I told you I’m not going to leave you.”

“Katsuki—“

He presses his back against the wall and leans his head against yours the same way you did when you’d rest in front of the fire together. Katsuki clicks back the hammer on the pistol, and you smile bitterly and try to hold back the last of your cries when he whispers his parting words,

“I’ll go with you.”

-

Just know that I would die for you Baby, I would die for you

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

Scars That Heal || Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader Series

• Ch. 11: Under Pressure •

TRIGGER WARNINGS: blatant homophobia from Nicklesmart The Beatboxing Jester™️ in disguise as someone you know, internalized homophobia throughout the whole chapter. As usual, will put a skip marker for the heavier scene before and after if you need/want to skip. It is not light, ngl 😔 [trigger words: f*iry + the f slur, each used on exactly one occasion, and (as an insult) queer. I'm so sorry, this was not easy for me either and please do not read this if any of this in any way bothers you, i won't be mad if you skip the chapter 💕]

A/N: Next chapter will be all fluff I promise 🥲, I'm so sorry, but I needed something that could solidify Richie and Y/n's friendship for good, and her helping him through his worst fear is the best way to do that and will be explored in other ways throughout the rest of the series, specifically in the sequel. all that aside, I missed you guys and this series so much!!

LGBTQ+ RESOURCES AND SELF HELP LINKS AT THE BOTTOM OF THE CHAPTER

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

- 𝗔𝗨𝗚𝗨𝗦𝗧 -

    Richie keeps his eyes trained on the dried mud on his navy blue slip-ons as he makes his way across town, his mind buzzing twice as fast as it normally did. He felt as if his entire body had been put through a blender; his skull still vibrating in his head turning his brain into jelly. His stomach empty and lurching as it twisted into knots far more impossible than what you'd see from a circus performer and his heartbeat could rival a hummingbird's. Not to mention he was walking with two extra legs he'd grow from time to time, another freaky affect the physical and mental toll these past few weeks had put on him and his eyesight. The caffeine he had been living on hadn't helped him one bit either he reckoned.

    Insomnia had become his best friend in the past few weeks, hence this last-minute trip to the old gravel pit just behind Derry Town dump. At least, this was the lie he told himself to pluck up enough courage to call Y/n up. Richie hoped she could talk him through it, give him some advice. He was never this nervous to talk to her and deep down in a corner he wished to bury forever - that small part of himself that begged to be free - knew exactly why. This small, repressed Richie Tozier that lived locked away in the center of his heart was calling the shots that day. Hell, he probably had been his whole life but he wasn't ready to admit that to himself yet, let alone his true attentions of seeking her help.

    All he knew is he was nervous as all hell, his palms were sweating, he couldn't stop fiddling with his glasses and he was sure one wrong move and he'd shit his pants. For fucks sake, he needed to shake this! He had already freaked Y/n out, that he knew. He could still hear her voice over the receiver. It was soaked in static and every 's', or 'c' sound she made felt like a pencil was being shoved into his eardrums cause of her shitty outdated telephone.

    "You," she had asked with a pause. "want to meet at... the dump?"

    "Yeah," he scoffed, scratching the same spot behind his ear for what had to be the billionth time out of nervous habit. "you got wax in your ears, L/n?"

    "Nope. Just, a little confused is all. You seem kinda... I don't know, squirrely," she said wearily, and through a sharp crackling hiss from the receiver he can make out a nervous chuckle on her end. "You sure nothin' jumped up your ass or anything?"

    He bit his lip. Hard. As if punishing himself for drawing her suspicions this early. What if she somehow caught on to what he was gonna talk to her about? Her walk to the gravel pit would surely give her enough time to get to that conclusion, and Richie wasn't daft. He knew he wasn't exactly subtle about... "insomnia". What with how many times he teased insomnia, called it that special nickname he knew it hated but secretly loved. That forbidden flutter in his chest when insomnia would laugh at his jokes, and the small but precious moments they shared from time to time when the others were late that would stay in his heart and mind for weeks to come. But it didn't matter now, as everyone knew; insomnia kept Y/n's company now.

    Thankfully his mouth was faster than his brain, and it fired a rapid response before a lull could form.

    "You bet your fur," he fires, his lanky arm had rested awkwardly against the wall beside the wall mount. "I am right as rain, toots."

    He of course hadn't seen it, but she had frowned at her phone. Her concern was growing with every word spoken from him.

    "Yeah," she snorts, throwing back a sarcastic remark. "Cause you sound it."

    She had eased a bit, growing soft and falling back into their usual banter. Their special dynamic always seemed to coax down his guard a bit.

    "You're talking like a 1950's gangster in a speakeasy," She straightened a little and had begun pacing as much as the phone cord would allow her. "Ya know... More than usual."

    Y/n smiled when she could practically hear the smirk taking over his face, and she certainly had no trouble picturing his hunched shoulders and intimidating snarl he was most likely dawning.

    "It's a little somethin' called moxie, kid," he spoke with curled his words, imitating all the gangsters he had seen in those cheesy old films. "somethin' you just don't have,"

    Y/n had rolled her eyes again, at least Richie could see her doing so when he heard her respond. "Right, right. My bad Baby Face."

    "Hey!" He barked, snapping his fingers and pointing at the floor as if she could see him. His voice lowered in a thick Chicago accent. "That's mista Baby Face to ya."

    "Mista Baby Face Nelson!" She strained, her annoyed shout tainted with a laugh. "Are we meeting at five or not?"

    Richie released a quick and silent breath, expelling as many nerves as possible.

    "You bet your fur."

    The exchange kept playing over and over in his mind and Richie wondered if the same rang true for Y/n. He hoped not, cause that would mean she was thinking about it too much. Hell, he was thinking about it too much now. A heavy sigh rolls off of his chest as every anxiety collectively manifests into its own dark thought.

    Fuck, he really had it bad.

    How pathetic he was.

    Eddie would surely be horrified to know what Richie really thought of him, that was for sure.

    And as if he hadn't felt crazy enough, the thoughts actually began to feel like voices calling him from the darkest shadows of his mind.

    'And the other Losers? You'll be lucky if they even look at you again.'

    Richie was surprised to find himself fighting back, pushing back as much as he could. Despite all the jokes and jabs, he couldn't be completely alone. A small part whispered in his heart that he wasn't, and he thought briefly of the turtle strangely enough but it was gone just as soon as it had come. All he knew was that whatever was telling him this thing was stubborn. But so was Richie Tozier.

    He treated it as an intrusive thought. Made a decision then and there that it was, never occurring to him what it could be if wasn't.

    No way. Not those assholes, he tells the voice. These are the Losers for fucks sake!

    The more he thought about it the more he was sure of it. God forbid Eddie did find out, which Richie had no intention of, and what would happen was in fact unclear. But no matter how he looked at it, he just couldn't picture the little spaghetti man ever cutting him out of his life completely. Not by choice at least.

    Now Ben, that lovable sappy haystack of his that was too passionate for his own good. Richie may not be the silent type but he does pick up on things, and Hanscom's affections for Beverly Marsh were far from subtle. Always opening doors for her and turning redder than a tomato when she smiled at him. Not to mention Richie was about ninety percent sure there was a poem of some sort involved. And that was just Beverly, Ben was always thinking of the Losers. Now Richie knew for sure that boy had no hateful bone in his body to the point it was fucking annoying.

    Mike, Richie felt, might be a little similar. The kid had a lot of heart, always going on about the animals on his farm. Would even go as far to say he considered them his friends, what with how much Richie knew about Mooriuel the calf and he hadn't even met her for cripes sake! Richie imagined he'd be a bit more shocked but would try some sappy speech when he came around. Would make a whole big thing of it, pat him on the back, and even invite a conversation. He scoffed at the thought, the image of Mike slapping him on the back and his signature grin... Yeah, he appreciated the hypothetical gesture but it wasn't Richie's style.

    He could easily see Big Bill sputtering up a storm, but managing a smile. He'd probably even manage to forget their differences long enough to say something stupid but supportive. And Beverly and Stan were the ones he worried about the least. Stan would probably be too indifferent to care, throw him some snarky ass comment like, "took ya long enough, dipshit," and Beverly? Well, Beverly had always been cool, very laid back. She never took shit, and she never dished it out if she didn't think it was deserved which Richie admired greatly. This was one of many reasons he was so shocked she had taken Bill's side in the fight.

    The thought brings him back down again, and as soon as the memory touches him so do the nerves in his jaw tensing up again where he had been hit. He could feel the punch all over again. And he suddenly remembers why he is here.

    He is here, he realized.

    Just around the bend, coming into view was the gravel pit. Old and crumbling it was, and overrun with weeds and bushes. One could easily scale in and out of it, and at the very bottom Rich had discovered one day was a beaten and tattered leather seat from a car that found its way from the junkyard just a ways over. This was where he told Y/n to meet him.

    Y/n...

    Jesus fuck, what would Y/n say? How would he tell her? Would she still wanna be friends with him? Would she laugh and crack a joke, not taking it seriously? Would she hate him for it? More importantly, why in the ever-loving fuck was he here and willing to tell her?

    His gangly legs tumble into a sprint as he picks up momentum descending the uneven terrain. The rubber soles of his shoes kicking up the layers of dirt and shaved gravel that lay beneath the rocks and he had to put effort into not crashing as he comes to a stop. He manages to avoid a nasty fall, completely ignorant to the fact that his right foot had been only inches away from a root peeking out from the rocks surely would have broken his neck had he made even one wrong move. He puffs out his chest, dusting himself off, and once again tries to dispel the nausea broiling in his stomach like hot tar.

    He closes his eyes tiredly as he drags his feet to the leather bench, letting his backside fall through the air and into the somewhat plush cushion with a deep groan. "Fuck."

    His fingers rub his tired eyes, his fingertips finding bits of crust he hadn't gotten earlier and his knuckles brush his glasses further up onto his forehead. Not quite knowing what to do with the overwhelming thoughts and emotions clouding him, his fingers dig further into his eye sockets until all he can see are inky splotches behind his eyes.

    Richie doesn't know why he would ever think those things of Y/n. He hadn't ever told her this, not directly at least, but she was just about the only person in the world he trusted most. He knew in his heart of hearts this was why he found himself dialing her number before he could even register what he was doing. Even after their separation and the bitter feelings they took with it, the Losers were and always would be his best friends in the world.

    So why did everything about this feel so wrong?

    From the moment the phone call ended, he felt like he was waltzing into a trap like some putz...

    "Well, look who it is..." snarled a voice from up above the surface.

    Richie's blood ran cold and it felt as if the remainder of the air in his lungs had been squeezed out like air in a deflating balloon. He whipped around at the voice, his head twisting up at the silhouetted figure so fast he was shocked he hadn't broken his own neck. The figure held their hands on their hips, thousands of the sun's rays spilling around them as they blocked out a part of the sun, an advantage they reaped from where they stood before Richie at just the right angle. His breath caught in his throat as he had recognized the voice immediately, but the figure didn't quite match the voice.

    The last thing person he needed to see right now was Henry fucking Bowers, that was for sure.

    The universe agreed so it would seem. The figure shifted, just out of the light revealing the teasing smirk of his best friend Y/n. Her hands snapped together, her palms forming a handgun, the barrel aiming right at Richie's forehead.

    "The jig is up," she snarled. "We knows it was you. You was the ones to steal from Big Bill's dame, and I wouldn't be surprised if yous was in cahoots, neithers."

    Despite the fear that had clutched his heart only seconds ago, a small chortle left Richie at how awful her accent was. Hadn't she learned anything from him? A smug smile overtook Y/n's face as he broke. She holstered her handguns and gracefully descended the pile of gravel. His smile expired not long after, and despite the thin veil of clouds creeping over the sun the light in the sky was much too hard to even glance at his friend without blinking back several painful searing tears from the harsh light. But he could still make her out.

    She was dressed in her usual ratty and eclectic garb; a mix of something far too big for her frame and something that seemed far too tight to be comfortable. Richie was certain she had never once owned even a thread of clothing that had always been hers. Her s/c brow had its usual, light glossy sheen of grease that Richie had learned very early on to not ask about. But there was something about her now, something he couldn't quite place.

    Though one question kept popping up in his mind. One that left an itch in his brain he couldn't quite scratch in his dazed state. And that was how could he have possibly thought she sounded like Henry Bowers?

    He finds himself looking down at the gravel now, wiping away as much of the sun's damage pooling in his eyes as he can. Unbeknownst to him, she watches him studiously, the ghost of her smile still on her lips as if she was enjoying his discomfort. His long and gangly limbs are folded awkwardly, still, onto the leather seat that sits on the ground. Finally, she takes a seat beside him with a huff as he had.

    As he rubs his tired eyes for a second time she takes a long look around, breaking the silence when her trip around the gravel pit lands on him.

    "Well, you've looked better." She quips, offering a smile.

    Richie snorts, pushing his slipping glasses up the bridge of his nose with a friendly smirk. "This comin' from Raggedy Ann?"

    They both breathe a small laugh and for a moment - just one beautiful, fleeting moment - Richie forgets he was ever scared. This is what he needed.

    "So," she says, pulling his gaze towards her, sending him a cocky smile as a knowing look sparkles behind her eyes. "I'm guessing there's a reason I'm here, and not helping you with your summer training?"

    Richie, for reasons unknown to him, feels his muscles tense up again involuntarily. Like a puppeteer suddenly yanking the strings, ripping his shoulders up to his ears and his muscles bracing. He felt rigid and he was, but he was doing all he could not to show it. All his unease came back in steady waves marching up the sand, but what could he do now? He could already feel her eyes burning holes into the side of his head as he kicked around a sizeable rock with the toe of his shoe, studying him. Waiting.

    Finally, his shoulders slumped in a shrug, lower lip in an indifferent pout as he looked around at the sky hanging above the gravel pit.

    "Just needed a change from all those ugly mugs, I guess," he manages a laugh, and he rises to his feet to lazily chase the rock that had rolled out of his reach.

    He can feel her eyes on him still, and he doesn't know what to make of it until finally she breaks her silence with a chuckle and rises to join him. She catches the rock with the heel of her dirtied sneakers. They're worn down to the very last thread and several shades off from the original color. She kicks the rock back to him, and they engage in a lazy game of rock soccer.

    "I can understand that," she says calmly, eyes trained on the rock as it tumbles across the gravel with several chunky clanks. "Reckon it'll be good for you, too,"

    He frowns confused without looking up at her, winding one lanky leg back before one big kick. "Whad'ya mean?"

    "Well, you don't wanna spend your whole summer inside of an arcade, do you?"

    Richie's face freezes in a frown, the rest of his body going rigid. His eyes cement on the rock underneath his shoe, willing away the veil of tears that threatened to fall. Had he not been so caught up on why he was here, Richie might have had a clear enough head to realize Y/n wasn't there for that conversation, nor had she heard about it from anyone there. Instead, all Rich can think about is the small hypochondriac boy that had stolen his heart.

    He can hear the conversation he had with his best friend, all those weeks ago when school let out. And if felt like a lifetime since he had seen that squishable, pouty little disgusted frown Eddie always put on that made Richie's inside melt. As if reading his mind, Y/n spoke.

    "This is about Eddie, isn't it?"

    Her tone is gentle but veiled. Something was concealed about the way she held herself, ever since she had arrived, something that Richie couldn't quite place. And there it was. He was right about her suspecting him, he must be. Richie battles the lump forming in his throat, and he can feel his ears turning pink under her unwavering and unblinking stare.

    Richie does all he can to fight a snarky response, not knowing how else to navigate and survive the intensity of his feelings. All he manages to do is nod.

[■■■■■■■■■■■■]

    "Rich, it's okay," she says, taking a step forward, his gaze is pulled to her eyes. And here it is, he thinks. The moment he had been dreading, the moment he hadn't even allowed himself to think about. "...I miss him, too."

    His face caught in another frown. That's definitely not what he expected her to say. Quickly as he could, he wiped away a spot of snot at his nose. He had managed to keep the tears at bay but now they had found another way out. He felt like a fucking fool, and he wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. Of course she didn't know what he was talking about. Why would she - how would she? His spirits were crushed, and he suddenly didn't feel like getting into it now. She seemed off today, not that Richie cared. All he wanted was for this whole day to be over with, not even knowing the worst had yet to come.

    She studies his reaction, almost as if she had been waiting for this and she blinks for what Richie is now starting to realize must be the first time since she got here. Y/n's face screws into a frown, and yet there still lingered an uneasy smile that taunted him. Her eyes squint suspiciously at Richie, her head tilting in an expression he never knew he had always feared would come.

    She laughs finally, a shrill and grating laugh he hadn't quite heard before and she nudges him playfully. "Oh, come on! It's not like you've got some faggy crush on him or something?"

    When he doesn't answer, she scoffs, turning away and shaking her head in disbelief for a moment.

    Richie felt he just might vomit. Or cry. Or both. He had never felt so distraught, so dejected. So broken.

    How could she be saying these things?

    He tries with all his might to conjure a response, any fucking thing at all so he wasn't some blubbering broken chump breaking down in front of her. But for the first time in his life, Richie "loudmouth" Tozier was speechless.

    That fuck-awful grating laugh returns, a sour look screws up her face as she looks him up and down in disgust.

    "Wait, seriously?" She gapes with a scoff, making him feel about two inches tall. "You actually think he'd want to be with some fairy freak like you?"

    "F-f-uck off," he sputters, though he does not feel better.

    The trembling in his voice, the vulnerability, hearing it in himself strips any remaining scrap of confidence he had left. He's crying now and there's no hiding it. And she heard it in his voice, he knew that now as he looks at her. Her lips curl into a malicious smile and she takes another step closer, Richie fumbles a step back.

    "He isn't some," her nose crinkles as she continues to advance on him, the fire in her eyes building as he stumbles back to escape her sudden venom. "rotten queer like you."

    Y/n spits the words out like they were poison on her tongue, and this was true in every way. Her fiery stare never left Richie, it burned holes right through him as she advanced on him like a wolf on a wounded doe. They were nearing the edge of the gravel pit, and Richie had nearly run out of room when her finger stabbed his chest like a sword's final strike to the heart, pushing him to the ground as she spoke those poisonous words.

    Richie felt his backside meet several jagged rocks that brought even more tears to his eyes, though none of them hurt as much as her words. She towered over him now, the sun beating down on her back and pouring over her shoulders, trapping Richie in her shadow. She shakes her head, and he can still make out the pathetic look on her face as she glowers at him.

    "It's girls he likes. It's me he likes." she points to herself, shaking her head. "He was mine the second he saw me, but you?"

    She scoffs again, and her shadow releases him as she kneels to balance on her feet, legs folded before him with a snide look.

    "You've always been the insufferable loudmouth he couldn't get rid of." A sharp laugh escapes her, the clutch on his heart tightening to dangerous amounts he fears it will give out. "Well, I guess he doesn't have to worry about that now, huh?"

    His heart feels as if it has been ripped to shreds, the claws of the wolf had struck and now he was drowning in his own sorrows as pain as the heartbreak filled his lungs. Richie could no longer see behind the thick wall of glassy tears that blanketed his eyes, and the sounds of his own sobs amplified his embarrassment and despair. He was hopelessly broken, and he could feel himself crumble, each piece disappearing amongst the gravel underneath him until he couldn't be found. He blinked only once, but it was enough to send every tear racing down his cheek at once.

    Another malicious smile contorts her face, her e/c eyes burning darker until they looked almost a completely different shade. Her lips seemed to stretch on and on and on in a way only one thing could. And it was then that it occurred to him.

    Not one thing she had said to him is something he could have ever prepared himself for, each word constricting his heart and lungs and swelling his throat with the ever-growing lump.

    Nor was any of it something she would ever dream of saying, he knew this now.

[■■■■■■■■■■■■]

    This wasn't Y/n, this was never Y/n. She had never showed, and if he hadn't been so wrapped up in his own fucking head he would have caught on from the second "Y/n" arrived. Especially that entrance, Y/n surely would have fallen on her ass on her way down into the gravel pit never mind the fact her accent wouldn't be nearly as shit.

    But none of this mattered now. This thing that looked like his friend had him cornered, and It knew it.

    A wicked grin overtook the mask of Y/n's face that chilled Richie to his bones, and yet it also reassured him. Y/n was tough and could be scary from time to time, but he knew she could never be capable of the pure evil that now danced in It's eyes. Richie's body was already in motion, his arms and legs scrambling for any sort of grip that could take him up the side of the pit and to safety. But the gravel beneath him was always shifting, rolling out from underneath him when it wasn't raking his palms to pieces and all he was accomplishing was a small plume of dust that clung to his backside.

    Richie didn't know where it came from, but his actions were faster than his feelings as his fist collided with It's nose. And no sooner did the heel of his shoe collide in a painful crack that sent It's head back, did his eyes widen in horrific shock. The painful crack that would surely haunt him for many nights to come, had not been from the collision of his heel on It's nose but It's head - or Y/n's as this was still It's disguise - had snapped completely back and dangled completely off It's/her shoulders.

    The only thing connecting her head to her shoulders was the suit of s/c skin. Protruding from the center of her neck just under the skin was the end of her spine where it had disconnected, giving away a disturbing lack of muscles and veins in her neck as if it had been hollowed out like a pumpkin. Her head rolled back and forth limply, and Richie could feel bile climbing up his throat, ready to burst out his digested mac and cheese.

    His mind was screaming at his legs to run while all was still but a small part of him knew this was all a gambit, that it didn't matter if she was frozen stiff or not. Richie knew as soon as he booked it, It would spring to life with something even more twisted. That now, without his friends, he was as good as dead.

    And It was more than happy to prove Richie right.

    The clone of his friend sprang to life, It's head still rolling around on It's shoulders. Connected only by the skin of It's neck, and moving around like some fucked up slinky toy. Richie was already halfway up the gravel pit, bits of rock and dirt finding their way into his shoes as he kicked up the earth though that was the farthest thing from his mind.

    By the time Richie reached the top of the pit, he could no longer hear the thunderous boom of his heart attempting to break loose from his chest, which was saying an awful lot. His screams echoed out into the air only to be swallowed by the screams of other children and Richie didn't know how he knew this but he knew those were the screams of Betty Ripsom, Ed Corcoran... Georgie Denbrough. The bloodied screams of It's victims were drowning Richie as he ran for the junkyard, and he wondered if he might live to hear them stop.

    The screams were so fucking loud in his ears he could see them. Each of them a blinding, deafening, gut-wrenching, and blood-curdling scream that danced through the air like ribbons as they begged for their lives. Richie cried out and he couldn't even hear his own voice, but he didn't let this stop his legs from pumping as hard as they possibly could. He was nearly to the junkyard, surely he could use something to fend It off but he knew he was just buying time.

    He could taste the blood on his tongue from where his teeth bit into his cheek. In all his short life, Richie Tozier would not have guessed child-eating clown to be the way he'd kick the can. When ever the thought of death began troubling him, he always liked to picture something like a western. Him and his rightful enemy squaring off against good and evil, he'd shoot first and save the day but still sustain an injury and bleed out. But it'd be a hero's death. And that was something.

   But this... this was something born out of darker than evil and Richie was about to be pulled into the gravity well of this black hole and swallowed up. And he knew in his soul, the very pits of his stomach it would reach out with its shadowy arms and pull him into darkness.

    And it did.

    Richie had been rapidly approaching the edge of the junkyard without realizing and within an instant found himself on the ground, caved in on himself as he tumbled in the dirt and rocks accepting he was to join them soon enough. He closed his eyes and waited for death as a hand curled around his shoulder and pulled him around. Another jolt of shock shot through his entire body at the sudden contact, locking his jaw and paralyzing his entire body in fear as he was met with the new threat. He didn't dare open his eyes, and certainly not when he heard his best friend's voice again.

    "Richie! Richie?"

    It was her again, he realized. Y/n's real voice, the one that he heard on the telephone that was dripped in static. The one now dripped in fear.

   "Richie?!"

    When the boy opened his eyes, they were filled with terror and his sobs continued. A lense Y/n never thought she'd see Richie look at her through. Her heart broke in an instant when she realized he was afraid... of her. Instantly, she released him and let her backside fall back into the gravel. She watched through a thick wall of tears as he trembled, crying to himself, and never in all her life had she seen Richie Tozier so broken.

    It tore her apart.

    She didn't have to be a genius to realize what had happened here. Before she had even reached the junkyard on her bike she had heard his screams strangled through the wall of trees gating the area. When she had reached the gravel yard, she was happy to see him still in one piece but he was running for his life from an invisible force. The damn coward had gotten what It wanted and scared him shitless, but why would he disappear just because she showed? She had wondered.

    Now she was beginning to understand. It didn't need to be here to scare her. Just the sight of Richie in such a state was enough to tear her down and it took just about everything in her not to scream into the sky from a mix of fury and fear.

    Besides the tears that race down her cheeks and wet her legs, all Y/n could feel was a painfully numbing fear. Fear that Richie would never be the same. Fear that Richie would never speak to her again. Fear that Richie would never trust her again. Fear for whatever the fucking hell that thing did to Richie. Fear that It would do it again.

    All she felt now was fear for Richie.

    Y/n doesn't bother to fight the sob that breaks loose, her bottom lip quivers violently and her arms fall to the gravely pavement beneath her. As if her head had filled with lead, it grew heavy enough to fall into her chest where her chin landed, shaking several more tears loose.

    "I'm s-so sorry, Richie,"

    Y/n yearns to say more, but her body is physically weak from sadness and shame. Yet still, she repeats it in her mind hoping with everything in her it slips out of her mouth, or maybe if she thought them loud enough he'd hear them in his mind.

    I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry for whatever happened. I'm so goddamn sorry...

    "I'm sorry," she whimpers. "I promise..."

    I promise I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise I'm not gonna hate you. I promise I'm gonna be there for you, from now on. I promise.

    Her sniffles blend with his own, and Richie is unsure why this is the moment he knows for sure this is the real Y/n before him; maybe he was just too exhausted to think it through, perhaps it was the godawful sound she was making trying to keep herself from snotting as bad as he was but he knew It had gone. And the Y/n sitting beside him — crying with him, was the one he dialed up today. This was the Y/n he had been prepared to bare his soul to. His true self.

    So with one shaky hand — the other still tucked in close to his chest — Richie's left hand slid out from under him and across the gravel to Y/n's open palm. Her fingers were digging into the gravel, sharp edges of the rock digging into her skin as if to assure herself she was really real. Suddenly, she felt Richie's shaky palm slide underneath hers, carefully taking it.

    Y/n picked her glassy stare up from the ground to look at their intertwined hands, and she melted a little. Several of those fears — not all of them, but some — were ebbed away and she looked to Richie. He was still curled up in the dirt, his eyes closed and silent tears streaking his dirt-covered face. Each tear paved a path of clean skin, washing the dirt away in wild streaks where ever each tear had fallen. Several large and swollen beads of tears collected at his chin where they dangled, threatening to fall.

    She gave his hand a squeeze, letting him know she was there for him as she had promised him. And she was ready to sit with him for as long as he needed.

    For hours that feel only like minutes, they sit together in tear-filled silence, clinging to one another's presence and the knowledge that they are now all they have left.

    And there was no way they were letting go.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Here are some LGBTQ+ resources for mental health and self help if you feel you need them:

How do I find LGBTQ friendly therapy?

An article on safe ways to find the best sources of help that are right for you

The Trevor Project

Self Care Tips for Trans and Non Binary Folks

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[vcepsis]

heyy, saw your 100 followers post (congrats!!) and i have a prompt if you're interested? i've been craving appendicitis recently, with a whumpee that doesn't know what's happening right away and is taken by surprise when the pain hits them. (suddenly doubling over clutching their abdomen in the middle of practice with a pained groan, maybe?) u kno i'm a slut for sick vitya but any character is 👌👌👌

I’m sorry this took so long (like…a month?). But thank you so much for the prompt! I know how much you love hurting poor Victor so I decided to try my hand at that for you :) this is the first time I’ve written any kind of Victor whump, so I hope it sounds ok!

(Side note: I’m always up for taking YOI whump prompts so if any of y’all want to you can hmu, it just might take a month lol)

About 2k. WARNING: Emeto mention (no descriptions), hospital scene.

Victor landed his quadruple flip with ease, per usual. Hewasn’t even sure why Yakov forced him to practice them anymore: they werealmost second nature to him at this point. It was worth it, though, to hear Yuuri’ssmall, appreciative sigh from where he was taking a break in the stands.

Something was off about this jump, though. He landedperfectly on one foot, but the landing seemed to send a jolt of pain thattraveled up his leg and settled in his stomach.

Wincing a bit, Victor skated over to the side of the rink,grabbing his water bottle and taking a long drink, hoping it would help.

It didn’t. Instead, it made his stomach churn.

“Victor?”

Yuuri had come over to where Victor was standing, still onthe other side of the ice. He was frowning at him. “Are you alright?”

Victor smiled on instinct. “Of course!”

Yuuri’s frown deepened. “Are you sure?” He cuppeda hand to Victor’s cheek. “You actually feel kind of warm…”

Victor forced himself to keep smiling. “Your hand isjust cold. Now, are you coming back on the ice?”

Victor brushed Yuuri’s hand away and skated backwards,raising his eyebrows at Yuuri, who blushed a bit. “Oh, y-yes.”

Victor turned, skating forward while trying to ignore thepain. It worked, for a moment or two.  Hewas just turning into the set up for another jump when the pain flared anew,this time on his right side. Gasping a bit, he abruptly dropped out of the jump,skating over to the side of the rink. Skidding to an ungraceful stop, hegrabbed the boards in a white knuckled grip. Squeezing his eyes shut, he triedto will the sudden pain and nausea away.

He heard the scrape of skate blades next to him, and felt ahand touch his back lightly. “Vitya?”

Yuuri didn’t know about the pain; Victor would have had toactually tell him for him to know. So Victor wasn’t annoyed when Yuuriunknowingly touched the spot on his back where the pain was radiating from. He did,however, suck in a sharp breath at the touch, and Yuuri’s hand quicklydisappeared.

“Victor, what’s wrong?” Yuuri was trying to staycalm, but there was the slightest tinge of panic in his voice.

“J-just give me a minute.” With that, Victorslowly skated to the exit, which luckily wasn’t too far away. He slipped on hisskate guards before walking as fast as he could to the bathroom.

Once there, he locked himself in a stall, fell to his kneesover the toilet, and promptly threw up his breakfast, groaning when itexacerbated the pain in his side.

Coughing harshly, he raised a shaky hand to quickly flushthe toilet. “Fuck,” he murmured under his breath. He hated throwing up.

Did he have the flu? It was the season for it, after all. OhGod, he’d been kissing Yuuri all day…

No sooner had the thought crossed Victor’s mind that heheard the door to the bathroom open, and there was a tentative knock on thestall door.

“Victor?”

“I’m ok—” His reassurances were, unfortunately,interrupted by a dry retch into the toilet.

“Victor, open the door, please.” Yuuri sounded calm enough, but when Victorfinally turned and unlocked the stall door, he saw Yuuri’s wide eyes andslightly shaking hands.

“Victor, oh no, are you alright? What happened? What’swrong? Are you feeling sick? Should I get Yakov—”

“Yuuri.” Victor cut off Yuuri’s panicked bombardmentof questions before he could spiral into a full anxiety attack. “It’sprobably just the flu. I’ll be ok, but you shouldn’t be too close.”

Yuuri blatantly ignored that last part, kneeling down andpulling Victor to him, pressing their foreheads together. “I knew you hada fever. Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling bad? We could have stayed hometoday.”

Victor shook his head slowly, smiling a bit. “Icouldn’t miss a day as your coach. What would you do without me?”

“Your health is far more important than training,whether it’s mine or yours!” Yuuri scolded him, trying to look sternthrough his worry.

Victor chuckled. “Look who’s talking, Mr.Practices-with-a-103-degree-fever.”

“That was one time,” Yuuri said, unperturbed.“You know I’m not a good role model. In any case, we need to get youhome.”

Victor just nodded as Yuuri stood, offering his hand to him.Victor took it, standing slowly and gasping out loud as the pain in his sidemade itself known again. The anxiety returned to Yuuri’s expression. “What’swrong?”

“Nothing. Just—hurts,” Victor managed to say,blinking rapidly.

Yuuri frowned. “What hurts?”

Victor gingerly touched his lower right side. Yuuri’s eyeswidened, and he pulled his phone out of his pocket, typing quickly with onehand while still holding Victor’s with the other.

“Ok, just….stay here for a second.” Yuurisqueezed Victor’s hand once before letting go and rushing off as fast as heskated feet would allow. Victor sank back down to the floor, his back to thetoilet, resting his head on the metal wall. He knew it probably wasn’tsanitary, but the cool metal felt good on his skin; he was suddenly feeling hisfever.

A few minutes went by, and Victor ended up dozing a bit inthe stall, before the door to the bathroom slammed open and made him jump abit. But this brought the pain back in full force, and he tried to bite back awhimper.

Suddenly, Yakov appeared, with Yuuri close behind him. Hehad changed out of his skates and was holding Victor’s shoes.

Yakov knelt down in front of Victor, placing a hand to hisforehead. “What hurts, Vitya?”

Victor was finding it harder to concentrate through thepain. “Right….right side…”

Yakov cursed loudly, turning to Yuuri. “Get his skatesoff and bring him outside. I’ll bring the car around.”

Victor frowned, the words not making sense. “Whatfor?”

Yakov stood, already on his way out. “We’re taking youto the hospital.”

~~~~~

Yuuri’s hands shook as he untied Victor’s skates. Victorwasn’t really paying attention, head resting on thewall, clearly a bit out ofit.

Yakov had been quick in his decision to take Victor to thehospital. Yuuri hadn’t been sure, at first, but after looking up “pain inright side” on his phone, he knew he needed to get Yakov involved. Yakovhad frowned when Yuuri ha d told him about Victor’s sudden illness, but afterseeing his reaction just now, Yuuri was sure.

It was definitely Victor’s appendix.

Rationally, Yuuri knew people went through this all thetime. Getting it removed was a fairly common occurrence, with things rarelygoing wrong. Still, people could diefrom this, right? Didn’t people used to die from this all the time? Andanything can go wrong in surgery, even with the best doctors in the besthospitals and oh God—

A hand suddenly cupped his cheek, wiping away tears thatYuuri didn’t realize were falling. Looking up, he saw Victor’s glazed eyeslooking back at him with concern.

Yuuri took a deep breath, trying to calm down. He wouldn’tbe any help to Victor if he had a panic attack right now.

After what felt like an eternity, Yuuri finally got Victor’sskates off and his shoes on. Yuuri helped him to his feet, holding back tearsagain when Victor—strong, capable Victor—actually whimpered.

Yuuri led Victor out of the bathroom and to the entrance ofthe rink, supporting most of Victor’s weight with his skates in his free hand.It was a bit awkward, but they managed to slowly make their way to where Yakovwas waiting.

The drive to the hospital was tense, with Victor’s head inYuuri’s lap in the backseat. Yakov was silent, expertly weaving through thedense St. Petersburg traffic. Victor’s eyes were squeezed shut, and every nowand then he would strengthen his grip on Yuuri’s hand so hard it made Yuuriwince, though he didn’t mind. He would do anything to ease Victor’s pain, evenif it was only a little bit.

By the time they actually arrived at the hospital, Yuuri’snerve were pretty well shot. With Yakov’s help, they got Victor into theemergency room, and after hastily scribbling on a few forms, Victor was beingprepped for surgery. Despite both the doctor and Yakov’s reassurances that thiswas a fairly routine procedure, Yuuri knew he wouldn’t be able to rest untilVictor was alright.

~~~

Victor felt like he was swimming.

His head felt heavy, and there was a weird pressure on hisside. Was he asleep? Had Makkachin fallen asleep on his stomach again? He triedto move, but found his limbs weren’t responding, and eventually, he drifted offagain.

Soon after (or was it long after? It was hard to tell)Victor found he could actually open his eyes, though his body still felt heavy.A stark, white ceiling greeted him, as well as the steady beep of machines.Where was he?

Looking over, he saw a lovely, familiar sight in all of thisweirdness: Yuuri, hunched over his phone in a chair next to him.

Wait….was he in the hospital?

Looking around some more, he saw the heart monitor next tothe bed, the IV connected to his arm. Yes, he was definitely in the hospital.

He turned back to look at Yuuri. Dark circles were smudgedunder his eyes, and the screen of his phone made his face look incredibly pale.It seemed like he hadn’t slept in a while.

Victor hesitantly moved his hand out, his fuzzy head stillnot sure how to use his voice. Luckily, the movement caught Yuuri’s eye, whosnapped his head up from his phone. Seeing Victor awake, he hastily shoved his phonein the pocket of his jeans and sat up straighter.

“Vitya…” Yuuri took his hand gently, smilingeven as his eyes filled with tears. “You’re finally awake. How do youfeel?”

Victor took a moment to find his voice. “Yuuri…whathappened…?”

“You got sick during practice,” Yuuri said, voicesoft. “It was your appendix. Yakov and I took you to the hospital.”

“Oh…” Victor frowned, trying to remember. Thepainkillers were still weighing on him heavily, and thinking was hard. Histhoughts had a strange, watery texture to them, and they slipped through hisfingers when he tried too hard to grasp them.

Yuuri squeezed his hand gently. “You were in surgeryfor a while, but it went alright. You’ll have to stay in the hospital for acouple of days, but you’ll be able to skate again in a few weeks.”

“Mhm,” Victor responded, the words not reallyregistering in his brain. He was too busy looking at Yuuri.  "You looked so tired, my Yuuri…“

Yuuri gave him a small smile, and a few tears slid down hischeek. Victor’s eyes widened, trying to reach Yuuri’s face with his other hand,but the IV stopped him. Why was his Yuuri crying? Victor hated to see him cry.

“I’m ok, Victor.” Yuuri quickly wiped his tearsaway with his free hand. “I was just so worried about you. But you’regoing to be fine.”

“Ok,” Victor said. He wasn’t sure why Yuuri shouldhave been worried; after all, he hardly remembered what happened. But as longas Yuuri was ok.

Victor found his eyes growing heavy, despite his desire tohold on to Yuuri’s voice. Yuuri noticed, though, and cupped a hand to hischeek, stroking the skin gently with his thumb. “Rest, Vitya. I’ll be herewhen you wake up.”

Victor smiled, and let sleep take him.

[sevi007]

Hey Sevi, I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm feeling really shitty right now and your content always cheers me up. I was wondering if you had any dad might or dadzawa stuff that you could post. Sorry if I'm bothering you during finals season. Thanks

So sadly, I didn’t have the time to come up with something entirely new - but luckily, I still had a unfinished mini-story in my files that I only needed to polish up a bit and change a few things.

I hope this helps a bit, dear anon! May things go better for you soon! =D

____________________________________________________________

He’slate.

The thought came unbidden, and Aizawacould feel that single thoughtturning his disinterested expression into a frowning one.

“Mic,” he tried not to let his annoyanceseep through, even though his friend would probably know anyway. “Which one is the nextmatch?”

Mic whirled on his chair, legs stretched,not heading the fact that the moderator’s booth was open to almost every sideand every spectator looking up could see him behave like a child.

 At his friend’s question, the host barkedout a laugh. “You know exactly which one, Shouta. Why are you asking?”

Of course he knew, Aizawa thought onlyslightly bitter. He had made a mental note for all his student’s matches, whenthey would be, against whom, and how likely it was that there was a slightpossibility of losing for them.

Ofcourse he knew, and thethought that the other was late becameeven more prominent.

 Pushing himself to his feet, Aizawa strodetowards the door. “Moderate the next few matches without me.”

“Eeeeh?” Mic called after him, voiceslightly rising – but not to the level it would if he really were angry. “You’releaving me? That really hurts myfeelings, Shouta. You’re really, really hurting me right now.”

“Yes, yes.”

“Hurtingme, Shouta!” Mic called after him as the door fell closed behind him.

Aizawa waved through the last gap beforehe closed it completely.

As soon as he was outside, he reached forhis phone and pushed one of the buttons that automatically would call a numberhe had saved there.

One ring, two, and…

 “Yes?”the hoarse voice answering sounded slightly breathless, strained, and anyother time, Aizawa would have instantly asked for the reason why, but not thistime.

“You’re…”, he began, only to beinterrupted.

“…late.Yes,” another wheeze, and Toshinori coughed slightly. It didn’t help thebreathlessness. “Recovery Girl’s check-uptook longer than I expected. The match is about to start?”

“In a few minutes,” Aizawa started walkingdown the hallway, with a goal set in mind. “You won’t make it before it starts.”

“I’mafraid not.”

Damn.That was the last thinghe had wanted to hear. But he couldn’t blame the other, wouldn’t do so, Aizawaconcluded, swiftly turning the next corner.

Where would the boy be? The stands.Probably the stands.

 “Iwill be there as fast as I can,” Toshinori promised, coughing again.

The sound pulled Aizawa from his musings,and he frowned. There was not the sound of blood in the cough, but still… “Don’tbust your remaining lung while you’re at it.”

What once could have been taken as a drycomment or even an insult now only got a breathless laugh from the formerNumber One, delighted even through the slight wheeze behind it. “I will try my best.”

 A pause followed, only filled with forcedbreaths and the sound of the other running. Aizawa turned around the corner,aiming for the steps behind it – the one that lead to the stands.

 “Aizawa-kun…do me a favor?”

“Probably already on it,” the undergroundhero answered.

“Readingmy mind again.”

“You’re too easy to read.”

“Aaah,”the sound was half sigh,half shuddering breath, before Toshinori continued.

 “I’ma bit worried… about that boy’s habit.”

 Finding them wasn’t difficult. Even amidstthe crowd and with chattering of dozens and hundreds of people resoundingaround them, his students had a knack for standing out everywhere and anywhere.

 He just had to follow the laughter,arguments and louds swears, accompanied with colorful splashes of banners andshirts and activated quirks (he had told them, so many times, to be carefulwith those), and ran right into them.

Scanning the group, Aizawa quicklyassessed the situation. Bakugou was trying to get Kirishima and Kaminari off ofhis snacks without getting too violent or just straight up throwing them overthe balustrade in front of them, Iida and Momo were trying to get the situationto calm down and sighed fondly when it didn’t really work, Shouto was munchinghis soba contently while Uraraka and Tsuyu just smiled at their friends’antics, Jirou and Satou were holding up a self-made banner in all kinds ofgreen and yellow, and…

There was one missing.

Aizawa frowned as he came to stand besidetheir seats, talking over their noise without even raising his voice. “Where ishe?”

“Ah,” Uraraka leaned back, almost upsidedown as she peered up at him, beaming. “Eraserhead! Hello!”

“Uraraka-san, may I remind you that we arestill on school grounds, technically,” Iida piped up, hands all but swirlingabout.

“Whoops! I meant, Aizawa-sensei! Sorry,sorry!”

“Sensei, if you’re looking for Izuku-chan,he already went ahead to prepare himself,” Tsuyu said, voice calm and soft.

Aizawa’s brows furrowed, and he almostsnarled to himself. “Preparing”… knowing that troublesome child, he wouldprobably just be…

“He was freaking the fuck out because AllMight wasn’t here yet,” Bakugou’s voice cut through his thoughts. The blond hadsurrendered his snacks for the time being, glancing over at his contemplativeteacher. “Muttering something about that he wouldn’t be able to show the worldthat he is here, or some shit.”

“Bakugou, language,” someone reminded himand got a growl for the effort.

This troublesome child. Just as bad as All Might himself, Aizawa thought with slightexasperation. “I will see to that.”

 Bakugou nodded and proceeded to get hisfood back with loud swearing and explosions popping off in his palms.

Aizawa turned to leave, but not withoutinstructing, “Freeze Bakugou if he tries to explode something for real.”

Shouto nodded with his mouth still fulland gave him a thumps-up.

That put Aizawa’s mind slightly at ease, at least.

  Turning the last corner, into the hallwaythat lead to the stadium, Aizawa slowed in his stride, coming to a halt as hetook the scene in.

 Izuku was walking up and down, from oneside of the hallway to the other, pacing as he mumbled to himself and tugged athis bottom lip. Occasionally he would stop, gaze becoming distant, before hewould shake himself and start his pacing again.

So easy to read… so obvious.

“I’m going to call this match off if youdon’t quit that worrying,” Aizawa warned, not sharp or loud, but seriousnonetheless as he closed the last distance.

Izuku didn’t jolt or flinch, like he oncewould have. Perhaps some things did change,after all. Instead he stilled, shifting ever so slightly as if readying himselffor an attack as he turned – and relaxed as he caught sight of his teacher.“Eraserhead.”

(And wasn’t it almost ironic, that this self-consciousboy was the one who had the least problem with calling him by his hero name.)

“All Might will be late,” he informedIzuku, instead of contemplating that irony.

Worry flashed through green eyes, so headded, “He’s alright. Just took longer than he expected.”

“Aaah,” Izuku smiled a tad wryly,scratching the back of his head. “I’m glad.”

Aizawa arched an eyebrow at him, silently sayingBut still worried.

 Izuku’s smile faltered and fell at thesight of that look, and the boy’s façade fell. Shoulders slumping slightly,head hanging, he muttered quietly, trailing of more and more, “I just hoped… hewould be here before the match starts… I know it’s silly and he can’t be hereall the time, but… I would have felt better with him here, even if he justcalled me prince of nonsense again…”

He fell silent, wringing his hands as helooked to the ground.

 And Aizawa sighed quietly. Toshinori hadnailed it with his worries.

“Hestill has that habit of thinking that he needs me.”

Really now…

“I’m not All Might, but let me trysomething,” huffing, Aizawa leaned down to be on eye level with the boy (oncehe would have kneeled, but Izuku had grown taller by far, and just when had that happened?)

Izuku looked up from his fiddling andwatched him, eyes going wide as he noticed what his teacher was doing, bottomlip becoming slightly wobbly, and for a second, Aizawa felt like smiling.Something told him that his students already had a notion of what was coming.

Making sure to never lose eye contact, helifted his hand, fingers curling into a fist as he placed it gently upon theboy’s chest, right where his heart beat strongly.

Green met black and their gazes locked.

(Somehow, both of them felt as if they hadalready found themselves in situations very similar to this one

“Doyou intend to become incapacitated again?”

 “Ican still move, Sensei!”

“Gotit, trouble child?” )

“Go out there and win.”

He didn’t say it loud or demanding, but ascalm as he would have said anything else.

Not a demand, a hope, but a fact.

Izuku’s expression shattered for a moment,eyes glittering and glistening suspiciously as a tremor shook his chin andbottom lip, but he caught himself quickly. Reaching up to rub at his eyes vigorously,the boy answered only a bit choked, “Yes, sir!”

Humming in answer, Aizawa pulled back,giving his student the room to collect himself.

Izuku sniffled still, but stood straighterthan before, smiling even, and not worrying any longer.

 The hero still hadn’t see the next thingcoming, though.

Before Aizawa could nod to himself andconclude this as a success, he was startled out of his mind by the smaller bodyslamming into him frontally, colliding with him in a blurry of green andtousled hair and strong arms wrapping around him, squeezing tightly.

If not for his reflexes and himinstinctively steeling himself, he would have been knocked over as Izuku huggedhim –did so with enough strength that part of Aizawa wondered if the boy wasusing his quirk for it. But the thought was gone as fast as it had come, lostin the surprise, confusion and the warm the boy was emitting…

 And then it was over, and Izuku wasrecoiling as fast as lightning, jumping backwards while calling “Sorry, sorry, sorry!”.

Before Aizawa could do more than blink,the boy had already turned – blush matching the red of his shoes– and darteddown the hallway, towards the open stage beyond it.

This little… 

Despite himself, Aizawa could feel a grin,wide and toothy, form on his face as he recalled the words whispered againstthe front of his shirt. Right when the breath had been knocked out of him.Izuku had strategically assessed the moment where he couldn’t talk back, and used that to say what hewanted to say. 

 “Thankyou.”

 “You brat.”

The words entirely lacked bite, and heknew it. 

He didn’t even get back to the stairsleading to the ranks above as he was caught again. A warm hand landed on hisshoulder (strength and warmth eerily similar to the hug before) and a deep,slightly wheezing voice greeted him. “Aizawa-kun! There you are!”

Adjusting ever so slightly to accommodatethe weight resting on his left side, Aizawa let a beat pass for Toshinori tocatch his breath before he asked, “How was the check up?”

Taking a deep breath, Toshinori flashedhim a grin and a thumps up. “I’m as fit as a fiddle!”

“Hm. You certainly don’t sound like it.”

“I’m an old man and ran the whole wayhere, you can’t blame me for that.”

“I can blame you for running like a madmanat your age.”

“Touché!”

No matter what people believed – Aizawasometimes wondered how nobody had noticed for years just how similarly bright and contagious Toshinori’s and AllMight’s laughs were. He waited it out, patiently, knowing that it was not theirfriendly bickering what interested the former hero right now.

And as if on cue, Toshinori squeezed theother’s shoulder just a bit tighter before he let go, voice not as calm as heprobably would have liked, “How is he?”

“Nervous,” Aizawa answered as the made toclimb the stair in no hurry, lingering on every step for longer than necessary.Above them, the sounds of the chanting voice and the chattering children weavedthrough the exit to the ranks. “No longer doubting himself, though, it seemed.”

“You talked to him.”

Aizawa hummed, shrugging. “Someone had to.And since you were not quite there yet…”

“Thank you, Aizawa-kun,” came the warm,sincere reply.

“Hm-hm.”

They shared something like a half-smile ofunderstanding.

Just then, Mic’s voice boomed above them,ringing through the hallway around them. The crowd went wild, but it wasn’tenough to drown their colleague out, and they listened intently.

“And here comes our 2nd-year,dear listeners – Midoriya Izuku! He made it quite far at the festival lastyear, so will he reach the top this time?! Let’s find out!”

And instantly, they could hear veryfamiliar voices getting loud, cheering and yelling growing even louder than thevoice hero himself.

“GO GET THEM, DEKU!”

“GO MIDORIYA! WOOOHOOOO!”

“Deku, Deku!”

“Awwww, look, he looks much better now!”

“Mido-chan! Look over here, over here!”

“YOU BETTER DON’T FUCKING LOSE TO ANYONEBUT ME, DEKU!”

“Sheesh, Bakugou is as motivating asever.” 

 “Oh my,” the corners of Toshinori’s mouthcurled, then stretched into a wide smile that all but split his features.“Sounds like not only Izuku is quite excited about this.”

“Seriously?” Aizawa huffed at his friend,rolling his eyes. “You’re the one who’s shivering with excitement. Or is that worry, All Might?”

That got a bright smile from Toshinori. “Worry?I don’t have to worry. He is going to win.”

“Are you playing favorites again?”

“Just knowing the strengths of ourstudents.”

“Oh, of course.”

They reached the top of the stairs andstepped into the sunlight – instantly greeted with more cheering.

“Sensei!”

“You’re here!”

“How did the check-up go?”

“Come sit with us!”

“Ah, Aizawa-sensei, you have to sit withus, too!”

It was loud and cheery as always,Toshinori already gone from his side as the blond was tugged forwards intoexcited hugs and chats (“Deku will win, right, Sensei?”) and Aizawa gavehimself the moment of silence before joining them, gaze straying over the balustradeand down to the stage.

There, on one side of the field, Izukustood with his back straight and head held high, easy and confident. Gaze sharpand gleaming but smile wide and bright, the boy – no, the hero – cracked his knuckles.

Assessing the situation.

Ready to smash through every obstacle.

Inorder to get out of every pinch,… a hero needs to be more than a one-trickphony.

And Aizawa smiled, knowing one thingwithout a doubt.

Hewill win.