#if somebody doesn’t take that damn mic away

[donoteatwingsoutapussy]

He's singing about his love for me

SUBEEETEEE WOOOOO

[sourdeers]

☰ ❝ONE CONDITION❞

pairing ﹕ katsuki bakugou x reader.

— content warning: third year! reader & katsuki. profanity. lower case intended. katsuki has hearing aids. bakugou parents mentioned. alcohol consumption - not by reader or katsuki. minor angst. — word count ﹕ 1,497 — a/n: FIRST POST, YAY ! reblogs and comments are very much appreciated !

“what do you want?”

katsuki has an attitude. his face is pulled into a pretty scowl, brows furrowed just the slightest bit, and his voice has a certain . . . edge to it. you disregard his attitude and smile widely. “katsuki! just the guy i was looking for.”

he blinks at you for a moment, then narrows his eyes. “you’re at my dorm.” another blink, a shake of his head. “whatever. what do you want?”

you push past him into his room, ignoring the grunt of annoyance that he gives you, and sit down on his desk chair. this is a normal occurrence—you barging into his room and talking his ear off. since second year, when you were officially adopted into what denki calls “the baku-squad,” his room has become one of your favorite places to be. 

unlike denki’s messy room, and mina’s completely cluttered room, katsuki’s room is clean, cozy, and neat. there’s a few posters on the wall, two of all might and one of katsuki’s favorite band. he absolutely never has the big light on, always opting for the lamp in the corner of his room that gives off an orange-ish hue. 

“i have a problem,” you state simply. he swings the door shut and walks to his bed—you take that as a sign to keep talking. “so, there’s that test in present mic’s coming up and—”

“no.” he lays down on his bed, resting the back of his head against the wall, and pulls out his phone.

“you didn’t even let me finish my sentence!”

“you want me to help you study.” he grumbles, eyes briefly flicking over to meet your own. “and i said no. go ask mina or shittyhair, or something.”

now it’s your turn to blink. because, while you love them both so very dearly, you and katsuki both know that they aren’t the brightest when it comes to grammar.

“please!” you exclaim, standing quickly and walking to the side of his bed. you sit down and feel your weight making a dip. “i am literally desperate, katsuki. like, name anything and i’ll do it. you want me to do your laundry? done. want me to make dinner for a week? i can’t promise it will be good, but that’s fine. want me to . . . to . . . i don’t know, beat the shit out of somebody? done!”

he looks up from his phone now, a smile on his face. a terrifying, creepy, mischievous grin. you narrow your eyes slightly. “anything?” he repeats.

you swallow hard. “with- within reason, of course.”

“alright, y/n.” he pushes himself up into an upright position, discarding his phone off to the side. “i’ll help you study for mic’s test. on one condition.”

—

“this is . . . not what i had in mind when you ‘one condition,’ katsuki.”

he clicks his tongue and turns to you, now facing away from the mirror. “what did you think i was gonna ask for? don’t got nothing for you to do that i can’t do myself.” his hands are messily fumbling with his tie, the same scowl from earlier plastered on his face. “are you gonna help me with this damn thing, or are you just going to stand there and gawk at me?”

you flush. because, yes, you were gawking, but there’s no reason for him to know that. “i was not gawking at you, just wondering how you have fashion designers for parents and don’t know how to properly tie a tie.” you roll your eyes, but walk over to him, fingers shaking as they reach for the red fabric around his neck. “i can’t even believe you come to these types of things. didn’t think you’d be into dinner parties.”

he doesn’t answer immediately, but you can feel his gaze in your face. you refuse to meet his eyes, not when you’re this close to him. 

there’s always been . . . something between you and katsuki. he’s always been nicer to you—well, as nice as katsuki can get, at least. ”accidentally” making extra of your favorite food; movie night, when he kicks kirishima off the couch so you don’t have to sit on the floor; texting you first, rather than never responding to your texts like he does to the rest of your guys’ friends.

you’ve noticed it, of course. how could you not? you notice him staring when he thinks he’s being discreet. you’ve noticed the small, barely there smiles that he gives you when you’re talking to him about something random.

“we’re going to be late,” you say, hands dropping to your side awkwardly. you take a step back, eyes still glued to the tie. “it’s fixed. come on, let's get out there before your mom kills us.”

you turn before he can say anything else. 

you can hear everyone before you even open the door. but once you do, the sound is almost magnified. you turn back to katsuki with narrowed eyes. “do not turn your hearing aids off during this dinner, or i will strangle you.”

he rolls his eyes and sighs heavily. “i won’t. i think my mom would kick my ass harder than you would.”

“oh, please,” you roll your eyes as you make your way down the hallway.

the party is . . . fine. it’s mostly adults—older women who work with mitsuki, accompanied by their husbands. a few of the men there work alongside masaru, as well. you’re not really sure why katsuki had to come, or why you both had to dress up so fancy, but you don’t ask him about it.

there are a few awkward moments when the said older women ask you two how long you’ve been together, or if you’re thinking about marriage and kids yet, but katsuki takes it like a pro.

“we’re not together,” he says, more than once.

“she’s not my girlfriend,” he says through gritted teeth, more than once.

“we’re friends.” he rolls his eyes and sends you a pleading look.

each time, it’s another stab to your heart. you’re well aware that katsuki does not have girlfriends. he has friends and he has school and he has being a pro-hero and, for him, that’s enough.

even when he invites you to a dinner party with his parents and their co-workers.

by the end of the night, your stomach is full, your head hurts, and you need probably ten hours of sleep to be caught up.

“that was . . .” you trail off, staring down at your heels as they click against the concrete. “i did not realize your parents were that big into parties. they go hard, huh?”

he huffs out a laugh, but it sounds more like a scoff. it always does. “yeah, it’s fuckin’ ridiculous. one glass of wine and the hag goes off the rails.”

you snicker, shoving his shoulder with your own. “how many times do i have to tell you not to call her that?” you playfully scowl, shaking your head. “your mother is a very nice woman.”

he stops in his tracks, and you do the same. his brows furrow and he jerks a thumb in the direction of his house. “my mother? bakugou mitsuki? are you sure we met the same person in there? blonde, loud, an asshole. sounding familiar?”

“very,” you hum, a small smile on your face.

“that is so not funny, y/n.”

he jogs back up to you just as you reach your car. “well,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. “that was . . . i won’t say fun, but i had an okay time. thanks for inviting me.”

“i didn’t really invite you. you kind of had to come.” he shrugs too, shoving his hands in his pockets. “but, uh, thanks. for coming, i mean. i didn’t want to do that by myself.”

“no problem, kats.” 

there’s a silence that falls over you two, like you both want to say something but won’t—or can’t. he opens his mouth to speak, but closes it again.

“i should probably go home,” you mumble, eyes drifting to your car. “my mom said be home by eleven.”

“right.” he nods once. you reach for your door handle, but he clears his throat and you freeze. “uh, hold on.” you turn to look at him again, head tilted. “my parents are doing another one of these things next weekend,” he explains, scratching the back of his neck. “do you wanna, uh, come?”

it’s not a confession. it’s not him asking you out on a date. hell, it’s not even him showing any interest towards you. but . . . your heart thumps in your chest and the smile that stretches across your face is almost involuntary.

“eat masaru’s food and gossip with drunk older women?” you ask, resting a hand on your hip. “count me in.” he starts to snicker, but you hold up a finger. “on one condition.”

the groan that leaves his mouth is the funniest thing that night.

and the smile on his face as you drive away is the prettiest goddamn thing you’ve ever seen. 

[jaysfavoritee]

a bitter match | s.jy oneshot

pairing. idol!sim jaeyun x fem!reader

genre. angst, unrequited love

cautions. reader is 21+

wc. 1.2k

synopsis. Jaeyun adores the attention he receives from his fans around the world, but yours is what he longs for the most.

TO SIM JAEYUN, you are his motivation. His muse. He seeks for your approval, your attention, everything that just includes you—he yearns for it. And if that means standing in front of a mirror in a mucky, old bathroom that barely holds any space for himself, tucked away in some random bar that he already forgot where.

His eyes are bloodshot. The lights dangling from the ceiling are so close he could feel the heat radiate from the lightbulbs. Dark circles form under his eyes making him appear as exhausted as his soul is; a bitter match. His shoulders and neck ache from the tension and he turns on the faucet just a little bit—enough for some droplets of water to drip.

He takes a handful of the droplets that tickle onto his skin, still staring at the reflection of himself, before closing his eyes shut as he allows to bathe into the cool sensation. He allows himself to breathe, although a bit suffocated, he breathes. It lasts for not even a minute.

A soft knock is heard on the other side of the door. Someone’s calling out to him, he knows it, but their words come out as a mumble and it’s all blurring together. He has to come out, eventually, but he basks in this moment of whatever this feeling is that’s coursing through his body.

“How long are you gonna take? We have an event to attend to in a couple of hours,” an irritated voice bursts into Jaeyun’s head, making him register it completely. He cannot keep running away from what he does, he knows he has to keep it up, so he lets go of this moment of peace.

“I’ll be out in a minute.” His voice is hoarse and he hopes that his manager didn’t hear the vulnerability laced within those words. When he hears the footsteps become distant, he places his grip onto the sink.

Somehow, it balances him.

The droplets that tickled against his cheeks had already disappeared, leaving him to remember that everything is temporary. He touches his hair a little, ensuring that it looks alright for public viewing, and he makes his way out.

People stare. Their hushed whispers linger in the tight, compacted space, making them easier to travel. He knows that he has to be somebody and he has to continue embodying that somebody. Though, sometimes, he wishes that he could’ve been given a better personality, perhaps, to sustain the passion of being an idol. He loves it and hates it all the same.

As he walks with his manager out the bar, towards a familiar black limousine that he’s already grown tired of having to see, he obliges to the routine and expectation that has been placed on top of his head like a ticking bomb.

If he wasn’t an idol, would you still like him? Would you still cheer him on, even if it wasn’t in front of a stage? Would you want to know who he is, or do you not care enough for that? Jaeyun wants to believe that you’d still listen to him, and not in the music kind. He wants confirmation that you’d support him even if he wasn’t a public figure, but he’s unsure if you would ever give it to him.

In the late hours of the evening, Jaeyun attends the mandatory events, taking pictures, posing for a company he doesn’t really care about, goes outside to wave to a bunch of screaming fans that want nothing but his attention, and he would go back to his apartment.

That was his routine. That was the expectation he was set for, and he knew damn well he had to continue doing that.

But, what if for a moment, a fleeting one, he could break that routine? Instead of getting into the limousine, he makes his way to your apartment? Would you let him in, let his existence run through your home, or would you tell him to leave? He doesn’t know.

He would then adjust his mic, chugging a water bottle that sat on the very stage he stood upon, letting the burning lights flash onto him, allowing the big screens to capture his golden smile, his glistening sweat, listening to the crowd yell out his name in a beautiful mantra.

He loves the attention he’s getting, he really does, but it never compares to the attention he gets from you. There you were, standing next to a bunch of strangers, putting your hands up and cheering for him. Him. Now, it feels strange, the part where he yearns for you in every concert he holds, hoping you would actually pick up your phone and give him a call.

Come over.

And he would. He already knows your place by heart. He would take the same route, walk past the same stores, past the same types of people, to get to you. He would then make sure nobody’s looking as he adjusts his hood before knocking once, then followed with two more knocks. A tiny code he made up himself to let you know that it’s him.

When you open the door, you smile and let him enter. You two would converse a bit, before falling back into the same pattern. He’d see the empty bottles of alcohol litter on your coffee table, but he doesn’t mind. He knows you’re a bit tipsy, a bit unstable, but so is he. When you hug him for a while, he would hold you so tightly that he is just too terrified to let you go, because he knows once he does, you’d fall asleep, and he’d be forced to leave.

When all he wants to do is stay.

He then leaves a lingering kiss to your forehead before picking up his scattered clothes, putting on his shoes, and leaving a note on your counter, something he always does.

Call me.

Yet, you never do.

He is quite exhausted when he pours his heart out onto the sheets of paper, all lyrics to his songs that his fans think is adorable, when in reality, it’s about you.

It was all about you. You would cave into it, too. You loved getting his attention. He saw you for the first time at one of his concerts in New York, and he smiled the moment he saw your pretty features. He knew, deep down, you were meant for him. He longed for you, all of you, regardless of the somebody he was supposed to be portraying.

In reality, when he would hold you close at night, he hopes for you to see that he just wants to be himself with you.

It’s the same routine after that. Leaving a kiss to your forehead, picking up his clothes, leaving a note on your counter, hoping that one day, you’d see him as more than just an idol, and you’d want to get to know him at a deeper level. He hopes that one day, you would stop treating him as just a stranger, someone higher, unachievable, someone too famous and too better off with somebody else. For now, though, he’s fine with sticking to this routine, because as long as it’s there, he has you.

Call me.

[tamagosandesu]

Title: Unusual Author's Notes: Heyo! So, this is another one shot supposedly for ssmonth 2022 that never made the final cut because I was never able to finish it. It's not exactly a teacher x student au but it's a university au at the very least. Nothing completely special, just an idea I had that I wanted to write. Enjoy!

_________________

Sakura walks to the classroom with a heavy heart, wholly expecting to enjoy a full hour of her lunch break when suddenly, her last professor thought it was a good idea to extend class and do an impromptu report on what they’ve learned so far, trying to summarize his not-so-clear discussions for the past week as best as they could.

When professor Danzo said that once you’re finished you can immediately get out. Sakura was somehow relieved. There’s hope, she thought at first. At that time, she wanted nothing more than to get out of that boring class and eat her lunch before sitting in yet another boring class.

Though her relief fell short when he said he’ll draw lots on who’ll go first. Sakura, seemingly hated by fate that time, was drawn 5th to the last, when there were more than 40 students present. Damn 40 students that wasted more time on looking at the wall, getting mind-blocked, stuttering, and joking about unnecessary things that dragged on the report.

Which, inevitably, resulted in a whopping 30-minute overtime and less than a 30-minute lunch break.

Sakura sighs at the memory.

What was worse is that it takes more than 10 minutes to get out of the room and down the building since the way students gathered hordes can practically be a physical definition of a rush-hour. Sakura does not know why students gathered in the hallway, but she thinks she was really being tested around those times.

So, instead of going out to buy a well-earned meal after being deprived of it for a few days now, she walks straight to her next subject with an aggressively growling stomach.

She silently promises to go all out with dinner later.

After arriving a few steps away from the door of the room, Sakura has half a mind to actually read the sign outside and confirm if she’s indeed in the right place or solely trust her hungry mind and tired feet for leading her here.

Though, since she cannot escape people’s natural nature of being literate, she subconsciously reads the letters and confirms that yes, she is in the right place and yes, she’s about to listen to a 3 hour talk about philosophy.

Somebody just kill me already.

Quickly, before her mind contradicts with her schedule and leads her out of there, she looks for a vacant seat around the room. She found one at the very back, thankfully, that was yet to be crowded with a row of sleeping students.

There was this stereotype around her university that, apparently, students that often sit on the very back row, are always those students that come to school for the sole purpose of sleeping there. There were instances that this was proven true since Sakura likes to sit at the very back herself. She will admit, she did fall asleep there more than once during her days.

Although she likes to believe that is not the main reason why she likes it there.

Sakura, she thinks, likes to see everyone’s head more than she likes everyone to see hers. Besides, she doesn’t want to be lumped with the so-called “star students” that typically sit at the very front.

Contrary to popular belief, the back row is actually a nice place. Since the rooms are built nicely the sound resonance wasn’t a problem, and that most teachers use a mic while speaking anyway, Sakura found that it was both comfortable and perfect for someone like her who prefers solitude during lectures more than chatting with someone. She was one of those lowkey star students, after all.

Speaking of teachers, when Sakura was slowly starting to become optimistic and accept that the day might not be that bad after all, she’s suddenly reminded that her professor for the day was Hatake Kakashi.

Damn.

It’s not that Professor Hatake was a bad, grumpy teacher. No, far from it. His method of teaching was actually one of the best that she’s experienced. He approaches things in the simplest ways that one can easily grasp. Even Naruto, who’s this hyperactive and dumb fella that Sakura managed to acknowledge as one of her closest friends, says that Prof Hatake’s teaching was understandable enough for him not to fail. And that definitely says something.

The problem with Prof Kakashi and Philosophy was all about the exams. Sure, Kakashi talks well, but in return, makes the exams crazy as fuck. Sakura has a pre-established hate-love notion towards philosophy. She hates it because of how Professor Hatake specifically wants to see his exact given examples during his lectures–word for word–and no other possible answer on the planet even if it’s plausible enough.

Sakura loves it, whenever she understands these complicated concepts and notions that philosophers seem to ponder about when they have way too much time on their hands. She loves it when these philosophical statements actually make sense in her life. She loves it when it gives her a hard punch on her face every time realization hits her and suddenly changes everything.

And she especially loves it whenever she can answer her husband when he decides to randomly quiz her in the middle of the day.

Ah, her husband.

Sakura Uchiha, despite only being in her third year in college, is married to her long-time boyfriend Sasuke Uchiha.

It was sort of arranged. Sort of. Before their parents decided to promise them to each other, Sasuke and Sakura already knew each other way back. They ran into the same circle of mutual friends, which eventually led to them being friends and becoming more-than-friends later on.

Sakura remembers that she was in first year of high school when she met second year university student Sasuke through a dinner party arranged by their parents. It was Christmas and deadass cold since she was forced to wear a dress rather than something more suitable for winter. And like how cliché love stories start, Sasuke did the gentlemanly gesture of offering his coat because he and his brother were also forced to wear suits for the night. She practically swooned at him.

She wasn’t informed that it was such a formal event, though. She thinks putting a few waiters and butlers or two could’ve made it a ball.

The backstory between their parent’s friendship seems to root during, as to what they like to call it, their “golden days”. Basically, when Kizashi and Fugaku believe that their youth should not be wasted in school alone but instead in bars getting shit-faced drunk like it’s the end of the world.

Seems rather unlikely to imagine the taciturn Fugaku Uchiha slurring his words and chugging shot after shot, but Kizashi insists that it’s very much true whenever he would tell Sakura. Thankfully, Fugaku grew out of his “phase”, settled down, and raised both Itachi and Sasuke to be well-disciplined sons.

Though Sakura would occasionally see Fugaku’s past rubbing on Sasuke whenever he would pull out a stick of cigarette when things get too hectic at work. Sakura doesn’t really forbid him but gets very concerned whenever he smokes. She opted to find a less harmful way, like buying him a vape, or practically offering to relieve his stress herself. In any way he wants. 

When Sakura saw his whole stash thrown away in the garbage bin, she seemed to deem her method more effective. So did Sasuke, apparently.

Anyways, their love story led to a lot of things until Sasuke and Sakura spent more time with each other than with their respective families. The time came when Sasuke overcame his action-speak-louder-than-words complex and asked Sakura out to be his girlfriend. It did take a long time though–Sasuke graduated while Sakura was about to enter University–but Sakura likes to think great things take some time.

Great things indeed, when Mebuki and Mikoto also thought it would be best to strengthen their families’ life-long friendship and have Sasuke married to Sakura. The idea came as a major surprise at first, but it seems Sasuke couldn’t be happier during that time at the dinner table and kissed Sakura in front of everyone. Mind you, their relationship was still hidden during those days.

Action speaks louder than words, so it seems.

And that was how the union between Sasuke Uchiha and Sakura Haruno happened.

“Good afternoon, class.”

Sakura, usually, pays no mind to greetings and rarely ever greets back, nor spares the teacher a glance. She does the diligent process of notetaking, in return, however.

But, when she hears that voice, that sweet, deep voice she’s grown so familiar with, her head instantly snaps at the direction of it before her mind can ever register what just happened.

And when her mind did realize, her eyes widened like saucers because she absolutely could not believe what she was seeing.

Or, a better term, who she was seeing.

There, at the very front of the whole class, stands her husband of two years in all his handsome glory looking right at her.

Sasuke smirks ever-so-subtly when he sees Sakura’s jaw agape, seemingly enjoying her state of shock. He knows, if his wife’s mouth wasn’t so open right now, she must be mouthing the most obvious question:

What are you doing here?

“Unfortunately, Professor Hatake couldn’t be here with you guys, so he asked me to fill in today,” everyone, not only Sakura, seems to be enamored by this new person they were seeing right in front of them that has yet to introduce himself. “My name is Sasuke Uchiha, and I’ll be teaching you philosophy today.”

When Sasuke says his name, no one seems to notice how Sakura’s last name is the same as his, thankfully.

It’s not that she was hiding her civil status. Far from it. Instead, Sakura doesn’t really hide the lone red ruby ring on her left hand, nor did she keep her maiden name even after the semester ended. In contrast, she informed every teacher that she was now Uchiha Sakura, no longer Haruno, clearly.

The reason why no one seemed to know her relation towards Sasuke was because she doesn’t bother to tell. Sakura thinks her business doesn’t really concern anyone, unless they would pry which she would happily tell. Besides, no one appeared to be interested neither in her nor her private life, which was alright since they all had the same mindset after all: Graduate.

Sakura doesn’t think she’s unapproachable. Her pink hair and green eyes look more jolly than cold on the outside. It’s just that the reason behind her lack of college friends is because she doesn’t try to make one. And who will she tell her little secret that she’s married if she’s lacking friends? No one.

Sure, she has Ino who knows everything happening in her life, and a handful of girl friends like Hinata, Temari and Ten Ten, but they’re all either studying a different course, or studying in different places. Sakura doesn’t need any more additions to her friends. She’s satisfied with her circle of friends, and she couldn’t ask for more, really.

The fact that she’s married isn’t really a secret, no one just really bothered to ask.

And, Sakura hopes, no one dares to ask as she sits this lecture through with her husband talking.

Sakura rarely sees instances like these where Sasuke’s nothing but professional. She’s seen him once or twice in a courtroom, out of nothing but curiosity, and he has been nothing but amazing. But right now, seeing him walk around and interact with a bunch of college students, she develops a newfound sense of admiration towards him. He’s always been amazing, Sakura knows that, but it always makes her love him more whenever he’s in his element.

She especially loves watching him talk, all day long, since Sakura’s been used to talking in their relationship and Sasuke mostly just listening. The way he walks around, the way his tone changes whenever the topic requires it to, how his hand creates gestures to emphasize, and the way his mouth moves…

Sakura gulps as her mind ventures to the inappropriate thoughts that his hand, his voice, and his mouth could do to her. She feels her face flush as the temperature rises all of a sudden.

She usually sits through a Philisophy lecture easily—usually when words enter her right ear and exit through the other—with Professor Hatake barely minding if his students actually pay attention.

But right now, Sakura wonders just when did a lecture dragged on for so long like this. And if she could ever focus. . . . . . When the lecture did finally end, Sakura tried to exit through the door as discreetly as she could. Sasuke seemed to be preoccupied with the other female students crowding in front of him, probably asking mundane things that have no relation to philosophy. Before Sakura fully packed up her things, she saw how Ami, the leader of this sort of girl group, immediately re-did her make-up and approached her husband as fast as she could, probably to flirt and flaunt her “assets”. Sakura has half a mind to be jealous, but she deemed that as pathetic since she thinks even Sasuke won’t even bat an eye to Ami. She was very insufferable.

So, instead of wasting her time and glaring at Ami for stealing her man and at Sasuke for entertaining her, Sakura opted to get out of there before Sasuke could tease her about how she was all spaced out dazed during the lecture.

Well, whose fault is it anyway? It was really hard for Sakura to stay attentive when Sasuke kept looking at her and giving her his smirk.

Honestly, why was she acting like a little teenager? She was married for goodness’ sake. She’s married for two years and yet she’s still reduced to a blushing mess whenever Sasuke gives her that look.

“Sakura,” she practically jumps. Damn, just when she was halfway out.

“Yes, Professor?” Sakura replies with a smile, one that can be translated as ‘what-do-you-want-I-wanna-go-home-already-hurry-up’.

“Professor, huh,” Sasuke whispers as he smirks. “Stay for a bit. I want to talk to you.”

Sakura looks hesitant, very hesitant, before Sasuke gives her a look that always makes her relent. She nods in defeat instead.

Ami, who has yet to leave the room. Looks between Sasuke and Sakura curiously, before glaring at Sakura who she might’ve considered her rival in love just now.  Sakura resists the urge to roll her eyes.

“Miss Chiba, you can go now,” Sasuke says without looking at the girl.

“But–“ she fumbles, “I still have a questi–"

“Save it when Hatake comes back.”

With that, Ami leaves while stomping her feet.

When the door finally closed shut and footsteps completely faded, Sakura released the breath she didn’t remember holding and slumped.

“Why are you here?” she asks calmly, sensing that it’s okay to let her guard down.

“I’m teaching,” was her husband’s short answer.

“Last time I heard, you’re a lawyer, not a teacher.”

“Well, I wanted a change of pace. You didn’t seem to mind it earlier when you were so attentively listening to me,” with each word Sasuke adds emphasis and steps closer to Sakura, until she hits the wall. “Right, Mrs. Uchiha?”

Sakura gulps as heat blooms onto her face. Sasuke was too close to consider appropriate between a teacher and a student. If anyone sees them, surely they would think something isn't right. 

Yet at the same time, Sasuke was also far away. Too far away from where she wants him to be. 

She suddenly found it hard to breathe. 

“What are you doing?” Sakura asks. Whispers, actually, her gaze occasionally flickering from his eyes to his lips, merely a breath away from his. “Someone might see.”

“We’re married,” Sasuke replies.

“But right now, I’m a student and you’re a teacher.”

“I don’t care.”

Without preemptive, Sasuke swoops down to capture her lips in a searing kiss that reduces Sakura’s legs to jelly. She fumbles to hold onto something, scrambles to reach something while her mind short-circuits as Sasuke bites down her lower lip. 

Sakura thought she was completely going to lose her mind when Sasuke traced his tongue on her lips, seemingly asking for permission. Sakura allows him access as he deepens the kiss and snakes his hand on her waist while the other braces him on the wall. Immediately, Sakura wraps her arms around his neck and moans onto the kiss before her legs completely lose their balance. 

When she feels the need for oxygen, Sakura brings her hand down Sasuke's chest and taps him, a sign to stop before anything escalates any further. 

Sasuke releases her lips gently, complying to her request. He keeps his face levelled with hers, panting with his eyes still shut. 

A few moments have passed before Sasuke opens his eyes and looks at Sakura's flushed face, swollen lips and eyes clouded due to his ministrations. The sight stirs something within Sasuke, as he was about to swoop in again for another searing kiss, when all of a sudden they heard a growling sound. 

From Sakura's stomach. 

For a second they both freeze, Sakura's blush deepening to a deep scarlet and Sasuke trying hard to keep his chuckle. 

"You didn't eat lunch?"

Too embarrassed to trust her voice, Sakura only nods. 

Sasuke releases the chuckle he's been holding while both his hands snake around her waist, keeping her close before he touches his lips onto her forehead.

"Let's eat lunch then."

"Here?"

"Where else?" Sasuke asks, confused. 

"Here on campus?" Sakura repeats, hoping Sasuke can actually understand. 

"What's wrong with eating here? Is the food bad?" 

"No. But wouldn't it be inappropriate for us to eat together?" 

"Why?" 

"Because you're our professor?" 

Sasuke stares at Sakura whose head is tilted to the side, wondering seriously. 

"Sakura," he firmly says before looking her in the eye. "I'm just filling in for the day. I'll be gone tomorrow."

"Still…" she looks uncertain. 

Sasuke sighs. "Is it me, or are you trying to hide our relationship?" 

When Sakura hears this, she all but frowns and looks at Sasuke as if he said the most offensive thing she's ever heard. 

"Of course not! Most of my teachers know I'm married anyway. Why would I hide it?" 

"That settles it then," Sasuke says before taking his bag and walking out the room. When Sakura does not immediately follow, he looks back at her and raises an eyebrow. "You coming, tsuma?" 

This seems to snap Sakura back to reality as she blinks and comprehends the word. 

Tsuma. 

Sheepishly, she looks down at the floor and follows suit, heart fluttering violently and her face stained with a pink hue. . . . . .  When Sakura and Sasuke arrived at the cafeteria, she's thankful that there weren't that many people. After all, it wasn't really an ideal time for a meal when they went there. 

Save for Ami, though, and her horde of pretty girls otherwise known as her little minions. 

And as if she was waiting for them, her gaze immediately catches sight of Sasuke, hearts practically coming out of her eyes. 

She's heard stories about guys suddenly feeling a chill when they see Ami looking at them. Very unusual, but it seems to be true as Sakura internally shudders. Sasuke also did not escape the curse as his eyes narrowed and twitched. 

Apparently, it’s applicable to all genders. 

"What do you want to eat?" Sasuke asks Sakura as they walk towards the station where the food was, ignoring the constant chill they feel behind their backs. 

"Anything works right now," she answers, followed by another growl from her stomach. 

"Alright. Go sit, I'll take care of it."

Sakura nods and walks away, looking for the farthest but best seat possible. 

Just when she was about to sit and put down her bag, she heard a slam on the table and an irritated looking Ami glaring at her. 

Sakura only stares, contemplating if it's actually worth it to give her the time of the day. 

"Why are you with Professor Uchiha?" Ami asks. 

Sakura, once again, only stares and thinks if it's better to pretend she's deaf just to be left alone. 

"Answer me!" Ami's shriek almost destroyed her eardrums and inevitably made her jump.

Now that might actually make me deaf. 

"What's your problem?" Sakura calmly shoots back. 

Ami appears to take her response as an offense that deepened her anger. "How dare you! You're sticking to him like a leech!" 

"Really?" Sakura answers with a monotone as if she's bored out of her mind.

"Huh! You thought you were being subtle? You look like a little puppy in love following him around!" 

Sakura wonders if it was really her in Ami's mind as she speaks or Ami's actually stating a self-description. 

"What's wrong with walking to the cafeteria with my husband?" 

Ami freezes and comprehends what Sakura just said. 

Sakura counts to 10, until Ami actually breathes again and practically explodes. 

"What the hell are you talking about?!" Sakura thought about covering her ears, but realized that it might've already gone deaf from all the inhuman screeching. It’s no use now. "You're not only a leech but also a delusional bitch!" 

"I'm not delusional. Nothing of what I said was a lie."

"Husband? Husband?" Ami repeats in pure, utter disbelief like Sakura grew two heads. "How can Professor Uchiha possibly be your husband? How can you be married" 

"How can’t we be?" 

Ami turns around at the sudden voice that spoke behind, revealing Sasuke holding two trays of food. 

"P-Professor Uchiha!" 

"Why do you think it's impossible that me and Sakura are husband and wife?" 

"H-Huh...e-eh…" Ami stutters. "W-Well you n-never told us you were m-married…" 

"And I never told you I was single either." 

"B-But—" 

"Have you ever noticed that Sakura's last name was Uchiha? Also, didn't you see the ring?" 

To prove his point, he shows their wedding band and points at the ruby engagement ring on Sakura's finger. 

"I specifically bought that ring for her. I can ever tell you where and how much."

When Ami seems to have ran out of excuses, her face morphs to mortification as she quickly walks away. 

"Well that was annoying," Sakura comments as she begins to eat her food. 

"Is that girl always like that?" 

"Yup. I think no one genuinely likes her, that’s why."

"Huh." 

They both ate their foods peacefully, enjoying the silence engulfing the cafeteria. 

"By the way," Sakura slips in. "How do you know Professor Hatake?" 

"He's an acquaintance. Occasionally visits the firm."

"So he's also a lawyer."

"Occasionally." 

Despite the short replies, Sakura has never found it in herself to feel as if Sasuke's ignoring her whenever they talk. It's just how they were, how he always was, and how she is. 

Nothing unusual at all.

Seeing her dear husband sitting in front of her, eating in the university's cafeteria as if they were classmates.

Sakura suddenly remembers Sasuke’s joke from ages ago where he said he wished they met each other when they were in college. How ironic, seeing both of them eating together in a university cafeteria right now. It seems Sasuke’s joke was granted, just in a more complicated way.

Clearly dazed, Sasuke snaps his fingers in front of Sakura. “You okay?”

When Sakura is brought back to reality, she catches sight of her husband concerned, brows subtly raising.

As a response, Sakura shakes her head, releases a breathy chuckle, and smiles at him.

“Never better.” 

[seijorhi]

Pretty Young Thing

A yandere Erasermic commission for an anon, I hope you like it bby!!

Aizawa Shouta x reader x Hizashi Yamada

TW non-con, breeding kink, pregnancy, surrogacy, pregnant sex, smut, age-gap, nsfw

“Don’t you think she’s a little young, ‘Zashi?”

“It’s up to you both how involved you are during the first stages and the overall pregnancy. Normally we suggest an initial meeting with the potential surrogate for all three of you to get a feel for one another and decide if you want to proceed with the arrangement, but should you wish, we can–”

“No,” he interrupts, sparing Hizashi a fleeting glance. “We want to meet her.”

Beneath the desk, his husband squeezes his hand. 

Hizashi quirks an eyebrow, pausing midway through fixing his hair in the mirror. “Whaddya mean, babe? She’s in her twenties ain’t she?”

He’s not wrong, but that’s not the issue. They picked you, they both picked you, but there’s this lingering unease that he can’t seem to shake. It’s not so much your age specifically, he knows that you’re only a few years younger than the majority of the other women whose profiles they’d seen – you’re old enough to understand what you’re getting yourself into and agree to it, at any rate – it’s just that he doesn’t quite understand why somebody your age would want to do this.

And there’s something different about you, it’s just a feeling of course – he hasn’t yet had a chance to confirm his suspicions, but he wants to meet you and decide for himself.

“We do have a number of potential surrogates with promising Quirks if you’re considering pursuing that option for your child,” the Doctor told them, smiling as they flipped through page after page of profiles.

Hisako, 35, Quirk: Sun-flare

Nozumi, 26, Quirk: Mimic

Koharu, 28, Quirk: Seismic Wave

Chiyoko, 33, Quirk: Golden Whip

Yuzuki, 32, Quirk: Silencer

There’s dozens of them – which is more than he expected. 

Aizawa knew coming in that this wasn’t normally the process, that this agency catered specifically to Heroes – was recommended by the Hero commission – but it still feels strange, just browsing through pages upon pages of potential candidates to carry their baby. 

Was he supposed to be feeling some kind of emotion looking at these profiles? The women were all healthy, each of them attractive, in their own ways (nothing but the very best, the Doctor had reassured them with a smile). This woman, whoever they picked, she’d be carrying their baby, yes, but that was the extent of it. She wasn’t going to be a part of their lives beyond that, so what did it matter if she was nice or liked to cook or play tennis?

There were stats, of course. Their education and IQ’s and little snippets of history, but they were all impressive, otherwise they wouldn’t have been included. Were they supposed to choose based on their Quirk? One that might compliment his or Zashi’s? Quirks were troublesome things to begin with, and–

“Wait-wait, Shou, hold up,” Hizashi’s voice cut through his musings, long fingers wrapping around his wrist midway through turning the page. “Go back one.”

He does as he’s told, flicking the page back.

Y/N, 23, Quirk: N/A.

A lone eyebrow lifts. Quirkless, huh? A blank slate.

But that’s not what caught Hizashi’s eye.

“She’s kinda cute, don’tcha think, baby?”

It feels weirdly like a first date, nervous jitters and all – though he’d like to believe he’s better at suppressing that now then back when he was a teenager. Aizawa hasn’t bothered to shave, but his hair’s tied back in a loose bun and he’s pulled out a suit for the occasion – he’s even wearing a tie for fuck’s sake. Beside him, Hizashi’s ditched his usual leather jacket and ripped jeans for, well, nicer jeans and a button up floral shirt.

And then there’s you. Standing in the doorway of the cafe glancing around like a little lost lamb, he recognises you instantly from the picture on your profile, but the moment your eyes meet his he’s struck with the realisation that the picture didn’t truly do you justice.

Because you do look young (at least compared to their thirty odd years) and it might just be the hesitant smile adorning your face as you start to make your way over, or the charming little summer dress falling to your mid-thigh, swishing hypnotically with every step, but Shouta feels something catch in his chest the more he stares. You really are… what was the word ‘Zashi had used? Cute?

Yeah. You were cute. 

The agency had offered to host this little meetup at their clinic, and while he hadn’t particularly cared one way or the other, Hizashi’d been insistent. He’d wanted this to feel ‘natural’. 

‘I don’t really wanna meet our potential baby mama for the first time in some boring, sterile office, d’you?”

He’d only bitten back a sigh at the time, shaking his head. It wouldn’t have been worth upsetting him by reminding him that the girl was technically a glorified incubator. He had every intention of being involved in this process, but this initial meeting was to establish two things. Firstly, that after meeting them, you still felt comfortable with carrying their baby, and secondly, he wanted to make absolutely certain that you weren’t trying to get anything out of this.

Oh, he knew you were getting paid, handsomely, he’s sure, but the thought that you, or any of the women the agency had fobbed their way might not all be in this for altruistic reasons had crossed his mind. 

You were just so young.

But he was more than happy to determine those two things in a ten minute meeting at the agency. 

Hizashi was not, and so here they are. 

Ten minutes in, and he finds himself glad of his husband’s insistence. Hands wrapped around your mug of coffee (you should enjoy it while you can) you chatter away with Hizashi, beaming and blushing, tripping over your own words in your nervousness. 

You’re about as dangerous as a kitten, and he allows himself to relax enough in his seat to enjoy watching the blonde charm you. 

“So why don’t ya tell us a little about yourself, songbird?”

“There’s really not all that much to tell,” you say with a sheepish laugh, but they listen as you talk anyway. It’s nothing the profile hadn’t already told them, nothing spectacular that would make you stand out in the crowd. 

And yet, an hour and a half later, you’re trying in vain to distract him and Hizashi both so that you can slip your card in with the bill to pay for lunch, and Shouta finds himself oddly amused.

There were other candidates – ones with impressive Quirks, smarter than you, more accomplished than you, older than you–

“Ya sure you don’t want a lift, sweetheart? It’s no trouble.”

You smile again, demure little thing, and shake your head. “Oh no, really it’s okay. It’s not far and… I like the walk. Thank you, though.”

– but none nearly so endearing, he thinks. 

And when they watch you disappear into the crowd, one final wave thrown over your shoulder, Hizashi’s fingers lace with his once more.

“So she’s our baby mama, huh?

He’s silent for a moment. “I suppose so.”

—

The agency recommended, at least in the initial stages before the implantation procedure took place, that any communication between the three of you should go through them. 

Hizashi had your number programmed into his phone before you’d even left the cafe, and he’s been texting you every day since – to the point where it wasn’t unusual for Shouta to come downstairs and find Mic chuckling to himself, fingers dancing across the keyboard on his phone as he replies to whatever message you’ve sent. 

Shouta, for his part, tends to message only to check in.

How are you feeling? Any side effects from the meds?

Your response comes a little slower than usual, and it’s almost an hour before finally he receives it.

Sorry they’re cracking down on us using our phones at work :( 

Everything’s good so far! The doc said i should be on track for our appointment next week!

… is it weird that I’m a little excited haha?

His brow furrows at that. You hadn’t mentioned a job – at least not to him, he’d have to ask Hizashi later whether you'd said anything to him. 

Why on earth were you still working? He’d seen the contracts, he knew exactly how much you were getting paid for this little venture, wasn’t that enough to support you?

He makes a brief mental note to make sure that whatever job you were working at, you stopped long before the baby was due. You might just be a surrogate, but he’d be damned if his baby was put in jeopardy because you were needlessly exerting yourself. 

Nevertheless, his expression softens somewhat as he reads the second part of your message. You were excited, hm? 

Well, that made three of you.

Both he and Hizashi’d been willing to come along to the clinic with you – he’d even submitted a formal leave request to take the day off from UA, but the Doctor had assured him that it wasn’t necessary.

“The procedure is quick and relatively painless. She’ll be home within a few hours, and so long as she remains off her feet and doesn’t undertake any strenuous activity, she will be perfectly fine.”

It hadn’t sat particularly well with Hizashi who’d spent the afternoon huffing and complaining about the clinic trying to kick them both out of the process. That much, he expected – he understood it to an extent; the agency catered specifically to Heroes, most of their clientele probably had busy schedules (which was true in their case as well). There wasn’t a need for them to be present at such a minor procedure, even if it did hopefully mark the beginnings of your pregnancy. 

What he hadn’t expected was the twinge of discontent he felt settle in his own stomach. The Doc might’ve preferred they stay out of this, but at the end of the day he really didn’t give a shit what she or the agency wanted.

So he messaged you.

Do you want us there with you?

He watches those three little dots bounce for almost a solid minute before finally your reply comes through.

No, it’s okay, you don’t have to come. The Doc said it wouldn’t take long and I don’t wanna be a burden for you guys

It’s not really an answer to his question, and he briefly wonders if Hizashi might be right about the agency interfering, but he’s not going to fight you on it. 

At least, that’s his plan until Principal Nezu pulls him aside at the end of a staff meeting and tells him that he’s found somebody to cover his classes tomorrow if he still wants the day off. 

“Ya gotta go, babe. One of us should be there for our ‘lil mama.”

He asks you what time your appointment is and there’s a surprisingly pleasant fluttering in his stomach when you walk through the clinic doors and catch sight of him sitting in the waiting room.

It’s a momentary surprise – you almost do a double take, but a smile lights your face and you ignore the receptionist in favour of racing towards him. 

“Shouta, I thought you weren’t coming!” Your arms wrap around his middle, squeezing tightly.

He finds himself returning your hug – albeit somewhat stiffly – but he’s glad he made the decision to come. The Doctor wasn’t wrong, you’re only in with her for just under twenty minutes, and when you come out there’s a tremble in your legs, but you seem otherwise fine.

It goes without saying that he’s driving you home, though you try once again to beg him off.

Kitten, when are you gonna learn that so long as you’re carrying his and ‘Zashi’s child, they’re going to go out of their way to make things easier for you – whether you want them to or not.

Yet your quiet discomfort on the drive home doesn’t slip past his attention. Maybe it’s because he’s become accustomed to your nervous rambling, but there’s something odd about the way you’re sitting so quietly, fingers twisting in your lap as you stare out the window. He knows that if Hizashi was here, he’d be chatting your ear off, but he’s never been one to fill silence with unnecessary small talk.

Though he can’t exactly help the way his own mind drifts. Are you in pain? The Doc didn’t say anything about there being any pain, only that you should rest over the next few days, so it shouldn’t be that. Perhaps you’re just lost in your thoughts – it’s strange for them having a surrogate, he can only imagine what’s going through your own head now that it’s actually begun. He hopes that you aren’t having second thoughts, almost opens his mouth to ask before thinking better of it.

You’re entitled to your thoughts and feelings, whatever they may be, and if you wanted to talk to him about them, you would. 

It’s not until the scenery outside starts to change and the fancy sky-scrapers give way to dingy apartment blocks and dilapidated buildings, crammed in together too tightly that he realises that it’s not discomfort that’s written across your face, but embarrassment.

This was your neighbourhood?

Shouta recognises it, and really he should have picked up on it earlier when you’d given him the address – he’s spent more than a few nights patrolling the area. It’s a hotspot, not for the high-class, dangerous villains plastered across the news every night, but thieves and murderers. Petty thugs who prey on the weak, those addicted, with nowhere else to go… you live here?

Surely with the money you’re getting from the agency, and your job on top of that, you can afford a better neighbourhood.

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, watches as you all but shrink into your seat, and when you speak, your voice is little more than a whisper.

“You can just drop me off at the corner here.”

He pulls the car to a stop by the curb, and for a moment neither of you speak. He doesn’t know what to say, and judging from the way you’re nibbling on your bottom lip and glancing up at him, you don’t either. 

“I–”

“Thank you,” you cut him off with a tight smile. “For coming today, and for… this. I-I really do appreciate it.” 

The words aren’t quite sincere, but he only nods – noting the miniscule sigh that escapes your lips at the action. “Of course. Anytime you need us, just call, okay.” He waits for you to nod before continuing, “Do as the Doc said, rest.”

You all but scamper from the car after saying another goodbye, though Shouta waits until you’ve disappeared into the crumbling apartment block before driving off.

Maybe the inside is nicer, but he sincerely doubts it.

—

“You should’ve seen it, ‘Zashi.” The two of them are curled up on the love-seat, half empty containers of takeout littering the coffee table in front of them. “I just can’t figure out why she’d be living somewhere like that.” 

The blonde frowns. He’d been messaging you throughout the afternoon, so he knew that the appointment had gone fine. It wasn’t that he expected to come home and find the erasure Hero jumping for joy, but the subtle discontent on Shouta’s face had been enough to make him pause. 

“You’re worried about our ‘lil songbird?” he asks, pushing away just enough so that he could turn to study his face. 

The short nod says plenty. Of course he is – even if you weren’t potentially carrying his child, you’re young, beautiful and far too innocent for your own good. In places like that, you were easy pickings, and you don’t even have a Quirk to protect yourself. His job requires him to assess his students’ strengths, their failings and weaknesses and their progress. He doesn’t need to see you in action to know that you wouldn’t be able to hold your own in a fight. 

It bothers him. 

“She’s not safe there.”

Hizashi hums, but instead of settling back against his husband’s side, he straightens up further. “Well, why don’t we go take a look-see, huh handsome? Make sure our sweet thing’s pad’s all safe ‘n sound, put your mind at ease. Whaddya say?”

As he stares into those imploring green eyes, Shouta knows that he should say no. 

Concerned or not, there’s still a line, privacy that should be respected. He’s tired and this is the only night that they both have off this week. Your place is almost twenty minutes from theirs, and it’s already late – almost midnight. The list goes on, there are a thousand reasons that he should say no.

“Fine. Just for tonight.”

—

Two weeks later, the two Heroes receive a call from the agency; the blood test came back positive – you’re pregnant. 

In the blink of an eye, at least to Shouta, this becomes startlingly real. You’re pregnant. They’re going to have a baby. Boy, girl, it doesn’t matter… You’re pregnant, and as his husband ends the call and yanks him by his collar into a fierce kiss, he realises how important this is.

How important you are, just by the virtue of carrying their baby.

They invite you over for dinner to celebrate, and while he’s never been one to flaunt the comfortable lifestyle he and Hizashi have, he does find it strangely pleasing to watch you wonder wide eyed through their apartment. He’d be the first to admit it’s big – bigger than they’d ever probably need, though with the baby on the way maybe they’ll finally be able to make use of all that extra space.

Mic grabs you by the hand, eagerly dragging you towards the nursery he’s already begun setting up. “Once I heard the good news, I just couldn’t wait to get started! Our little rockstar’s gonna have the sweetest crib, don’tcha think? Ain’t it amazing?” 

He’s already started painting and there’s a wooden cot halfway assembled and the beginnings of a musical mobile pushed off to the side waiting for him to return to it. It’s hardly close to being finished, but you just grin, gazing at the mural he’s started on the walls. “It’s amazing,” you say.

“I knew ya’d like it!” he beams.

Shouta hangs back as Hizashi guides you through the rest of the apartment, chattering excitedly away. He likes seeing his husband happy, and somehow you manage to bring it out of him without even trying. It’s still early days but Shouta has to admit that already you’re more to him and Hizashi than he expected, or even anticipated. You fit well with them, seamlessly, as if you’d always been a part of their lives.

After dinner, they drive you home despite your protests, and Hizashi insists they walk you up to your apartment. You’re no doubt under the impression that they’re doing it to be gentlemanly, missing the shared looks between the two men as they pass the out of order elevator and tread down hallways with stained carpet and peeling wallpaper, ignoring the leering yellow eyes of your neighbour, peeking out from the crack in the doorway as they bid you goodnight, ‘Zashi squeezing you extra tight.

There’s an uncharacteristic hardness in his husband’s eyes as they both slip back into the car, “No way in hell are we lettin’ her stay here.”

On that at least, there’s no arguments from him.

—

Hizashi, unsurprisingly, is the one to bring it up.

The three of you are grabbing a bite to eat after your first ultrasound. This time, both of them had been insistent on being there, and he’s glad they were. Seeing that grainy image of their baby, hearing it’s heartbeat – strong and steady – had filled him with an emotion he’d never felt before.

It was happiness and excitement and wonder and awe all mixed up and wrapped into a gut punch that stole his breath away, and while Hizashi had burst into a loud fit of tears, burying his face in Shouta’s neck while reaching for your hand, he’d managed to keep his own at bay.

Mostly. 

Regardless, you have little choice but to indulge them when they drag you out to one of the blonde’s favourite restaurants – on the proviso that they had you home in time to get ready for work.

“Songbird, there’s something the two of us have been meanin’ to ask ya.”

You perk up a little, hastily swallowing down your mouthful of food so you can reply, “Oh?”

He wonders if you notice the way your hand already instinctively drifts to your stomach, your barely there baby bump. 

“Why’re ya livin’ in a place like that, sweetheart?” You freeze, the corners of your smile slipping, but Hizashi continues, “Ain’t the money from the agency enough? We know you’re working that other job as well… we just…”

Shouta can physically feel you tensing like a bunny caught in a trap, and he doesn’t know what possesses him to reach out, sliding a hand across the table as you pale, but you take it regardless. 

“Talk to us. Please,” he begs. “We just want to understand what’s going on. You have to realise that it’s not exactly a safe neighbourhood, and it’s not just you we have to worry about anymore.” Dark eyes flicker pointedly towards your stomach. 

It’s a dirty tactic, but that doesn’t mean it’s not the truth. Did you realise how much danger you were truly in? Not just from the common street thugs – though frankly he thinks it’s nothing short of a miracle that you’d managed to get this far unscathed – but any number of villains with a grudge against either one of them, or Heroes in general. If they found out a pretty, quirkless thing like you was carrying their baby, how long do you think it would take before they tracked you down and kicked through your door?

Your eyes flicker between the two of them, and you swallow shakily. “I-it’s…” you break off, taking a deep, steadying breath, “It’s all I can afford right now.”

“But, hun, what about–”

“I know,” you say. “The money for the surrogacy isn’t for me. It’s money I owe.”

Neither Hero speaks a word as you talk, telling them about your uncle, the man who raised you, how his business went under a few years back and you both lost almost everything.

Shouta isn’t surprised to find out that your uncle turned to loan sharks when the banks turned him away and threatened to take your house. Alarmed at the man’s blatant stupidity, yes, but not surprised. Your eyes start to water when you tell them about how he died a few months back – a hit and run –  and the visit you were paid only a week later, informing you that your uncle’s debts were now yours, and payment had better come through quick. 

Your hand’s trembling in his by the time you finish. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t have any options, I didn’t know how else to get the money, and they said that i-if I didn’t pay up, they-they’d–” a sob catches you unawares, and once again it’s Hizashi who’s out of his seat and at your side in a heartbeat, sliding into the booth beside you, pulling you into a one armed embrace. 

It’s his eyes that you meet, and Shouta understands. He doesn’t need you to explain what threats were made. You were scared, terrified probably, and you had every right to be. 

“I didn’t know what else to do,” you sniffle. “I’m sorry for lying to you.”

Really, he should be furious. Disappointed at the very least. 

“Move in with us,” he says instead, ignoring your sudden, startled intake of breath. “At least until the baby comes.”

He should be, but this works better.

—

It takes a little longer than he’d like to convince you, but the two of them wear you down and a few weeks later Shouta finds himself carting boxes of your things up into the spare room in their apartment.

Despite the fact that you’re pregnant with their baby, you’re terrified of being a burden to the two Heroes, but it’s because of the baby that you eventually relent.

They want to be close, involved. They want to know that you’re safe – and their apartment’s state of the art security system will make sure of that when they’re not home with you. They want to make sure that you’re not exerting yourself, that you’re eating the right things and not running yourself ragged at a job you don’t need, stressing yourself out needlessly and putting the baby at risk.

All of that’s true. 

It’s just not the entire reason. 

At first, he convinces himself that it’s for Hizashi, as well as his own peace of mind, but he’s starting to wonder if that’s the full truth of it. Because of course he wants to keep a close eye on the pregnancy – he knows that this can’t be easy on you. You have no family left, and if you have any friends then they’ve done an excellent job of keeping you at arm's length. 

You have nobody but them, and it does bring him some modicum of peace to know that you’re just down the hall if anything goes wrong. 

Hizashi adores having you there with them, having somebody else to cook for, somebody to come home to at the end of a long day. More than a few times, they’ve both returned from a night of patrolling to find you curled up on the couch, fast asleep with a blanket over your legs and a book slipping from your fingers, having tried, and failed, to wait up from them.

You tune into Mic’s radio show on the nights you can’t sleep, and on the odd mornings that you wake up before either of them, they come downstairs to find bacon sizzling away in the pan, a pot of coffee already brewing. There’s something oddly charming about the way you pout while you pour it for them, knowing you can’t have any yourself.

“You’re a special kind of masochist, ya know?” Hizashi teases, sidling up beside you to grab a cup.

You sigh dejectedly. “I must be,” you reply as he plants a kiss on your cheek and squeezes your side affectionately, but it’s impossible to miss the sparkle in your eyes. You’re happy here, with them. 

Shouta warns you from pushing yourself too much, but even he can notice the apartment’s tidier when they arrive home than when they left, the freshly baked goods sitting on the countertop that weren’t there yesterday.

“I just… I know I can’t pay you back for all of this, I just wanna make myself useful,” you tell him one night when he asks about it. “I still feel like I’m taking advantage of the both of you, staying here…”

“You’re carrying our baby, that’s enough,” he reminds you, his calm, steady voice brooking no disagreement. And yet, as dark eyes study your face, he can tell that it’s not enough for you, so he sighs, and in a quiet voice adds, “We like having you here.”

He likes having you there. Sitting at the dining room table, helping him grade papers, lounging around on their rare days off together – helping Mic set up the nursery, volunteering to go shopping with them for baby stuff. He’s lost count of how many pregnancy books you’ve bought, pouring over them with a fine tooth comb late at night – often falling asleep in the process, leaving him and Hizashi to carry you off to bed with a barely there kiss to your forehead.

You fit between them in a way he hadn’t quite expected. Not a burden, not an interloper, but as if there was always a place carved out for you with them, and it’s only now that they realise that there was something missing to begin with. 

It doesn’t quite click until he finds his thoughts drifting towards you at work, his fingers drumming along the top of his desk so he can stop himself from reaching for his phone. He’s not usually so distracted teaching, and as the hours drag he finds himself glancing towards the clock on the wall, counting down the hours, minutes, until the day is done and they can return home to you.

Shouta can’t pretend for much longer that there isn’t something oddly satisfying watching your belly grow and your breasts swell as your pregnancy goes on. You’re glowing, and soft and beautiful, and he could kid himself and say that it’s just the normal effects of pregnancy, but there’s some part of him that’s strangely proud when your shirt rides up and he catches a glimpse of your baby bump – knowing it’s his child you’re carrying. His and ‘Zashi’s and yours.

And oh, he wishes that it was only pride that burns through his veins at the sight of you, barefoot and pregnant, pottering around the apartment. Hizashi’s the one to hold back your hair and rub your back soothingly when your morning sickness hits, but it’s Shouta who takes care of you when you start complaining about aching muscles and joints.

He tells himself that it’s purely about comfort, namely yours, ignoring the way you flush and stutter when he drags you up the stairs and pushes you gently towards the bed, telling you to lie down on your side. 

It’s just a massage, yet the moment his fingers run along your soft skin and a breathy moan slips from parted lips, the very last vestiges of the facade he’d built up in his head crumble into dust. 

You’re perfection. Bared and beautiful beneath him, making the prettiest noises for him as he works away at your muscles, expertly releasing all of your tension. He’s glad that your eyes are shut and you’re lost to the bliss, you don’t notice the way his breath hitches and becomes rough and heavy, the way his cock twitches in his sweats, blood flowing south as you arc into his touch. 

Such a responsive little thing, aren’t you?

“You’re amazing,” you moan, and though you can’t see that either, Shouta smirks. “Please never stop.”

It’s a good thing he has restraint, because it’s taking absolutely all of his to stop himself from taking more. 

He wants all of you. 

Wants to tease and taste.

Take.

Wants to hear those pretty fucking moans take the shape of his name… Hizashi’s name.

And maybe he might have felt guilty for those perverse thoughts, for the way he wants to tear the rest of your clothes off and fuck you nice and proper, breed you–

If his husband hadn't been standing by the door, watching the two of you for the last ten minutes. Shouta doesn’t need to look to know that it’s not anger or jealousy burning in his gaze.

He knows that his husband’s far from disgusted, knows it from the way Hizashi grabs his wrist on his way back down the hallway, pulling him instead to their bedroom and shoving him back onto the mattress with a wicked grin.

There’s something positively feral in the blonde’s expression as he hovers over him, forcing Shouta back down with a hand splayed across his chest, the other reaching down to his sweats to free his aching, needy cock.

“You’ve been holding out on me, baby,” he sings.

—

They have time.

Your due date is still months away, and you’re comfortable, here with them. 

There’s no reason for you to consider leaving until the baby’s born, and Shouta is adamant about keeping it that way. Hizashi can huff and puff and moan all he likes, he knows that they have to take this thing with you slowly. He won’t risk spooking you and losing any chance they have.

That’s not to say that he doesn’t empathise with the blonde, what with all the affectionate hugs and touches you thoughtlessly bestow, the way you’ll plonk yourself down on the couch between them so they can feel when the baby’s kicking.

Hizashi’s gotten to the stage where he’ll drop to his knees to shower your stomach in kisses when he gets home of an evening before sweeping you up into a hug of your own, his face a mask of perfect innocence when he catches sight of his husband’s less than impressed expression over your shoulder. 

Having you here with them, this little temporary faux family dynamic the three of you have found yourselves in is easy, domestic and nice. It should be enough, but it’s not.

“It’ll be weird, going home after this,” you hum absentmindedly one night.

Preoccupied with the noodles you’re toying with in your bowl, you miss the sharp look shared between both men.

“Whaddya mean, sweetheart?”

If you notice the odd stiffness to the words, you pay it no mind, simply shrugging. “I mean once the baby’s born. I dunno, I think I’ve become too comfortable here freeloading off of the two of you…” you glance up, smiling a little. “Going back to work and finding a place on my own again, starting fresh, it’ll be different, that’s all. Not bad different,” you hasten to clarify at the blonde’s nearly stricken face, “just… different.”

“Well it’s not like we’re gonna be forcing ya out, hun! You’re always welcome to jam with us for as long as you want.”

You shake your head with a rueful little laugh, “We both know I can’t do that. You’ll have the baby to worry about and the last thing I want is to feel like some awkward interloper, always getting in the way – especially after everything you guys have done for me.”

Hizashi’s fingers dig into the meat of his thigh, tightening with every word out of your mouth.

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m not saying I’m never going to come around to hang out or anything, but once this baby comes I’m gonna have to figure out what I’m going to do with my life.” Your eyes meet his, wide and hopeful, and Shouta’s reminded once again of just how young you really are. “I can go anywhere, do anything. It’s kind of exciting, don't you think?”

It was a mistake, to think that you’d come around to them on your own. 

You were young and naive, still living out a rose tinted fantasy where the world was your oyster and all you needed to do was reach out and take it. And maybe he’s partially to blame for that, taking your problems and getting rid of them, making you feel safe and comfortable, not realising that that security didn’t extend outside of these four walls, outside of their protection.

They need you, but kitten did you ever stop to think that you need them, too? 

Shouta had made the mistake of forgetting how this all came to be – you hadn’t wanted a family, you were just trying to save your own skin. You still think that you can make it on your own, without them. 

He supposes he shouldn’t blame you for your misplaced idealism, it’s only natural after all. Some people just don’t know what’s best for them.

They need to be shown.

—

You don’t stir as your bedroom door swings open. 

Not as Hizashi pulls back your sheets, groaning softly at the sight of your swollen breasts and precious baby bump, stretching against the confines of your silk pajamas. “Ain’t she a fuckin’ dream, Shou?”

Not as the blonde busies himself in carefully sliding your sleep shorts down your legs, or even as Aizawa gathers up your wrists, pressing a kiss to each one, and binds them to the headboard with his capture weapon.

“Gentle, ‘Zashi,” he murmurs when the blonde crawls up on the bed beside you. “Nothing too rough.”

You wake as long fingers caress your cheek, tilting your face towards him so he can kiss you properly.

Shouta hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights, but bathed under the soft glow of moonlight from your window, he watches your eyes flutter open, the momentary confusion that flashes across your face followed by realisation, horror, as you try to jerk back and cry out–

Only Hizashi doesn’t give you the opportunity, winding his hand through your tresses and anchoring you against him, forcing your lips open so that he can deepen the kiss and groaning appreciatively when a terrified whimper escapes you. 

You still haven’t noticed Shouta kneeling on the bed between your legs, too preoccupied by Hizashi’s tongue sliding against yours. “Relax, kitten,” he says, laying his palm on your thigh, letting his thumb glide over the smooth skin.

“Let us take care of our cute ‘lil baby mama, yeah songbird?” Hizashi adds, breaking away from the kiss with a lovesick grin.

Tonight is solely about you. Your pleasure, whether they have to tease it from you willingly or not.

Your tears are kissed away, your broken little pleas swallowed under ‘Zashi’s greedy lips as Shouta shuffles down the bed, nudging your thighs further apart so he can lie between them.

The keening cry that leaves you at the first stroke of his tongue against your warm sex is a thing of beauty.

Blood rushes to his cock as you writhe, and he tightens his grip as much as he dares to keep you locked in place as he delves in again. There’s little finesse to the way that Shouta eats your pussy – it’s a simple study of reactions; the way you gasp and shudder when the tip of his tongue circles your clit, the way your pussy clench and quiver around the muscle when he eases it inside of you, massaging your spongy walls.

Never one to be left out, Hizashi decides that there’s a better use of his attention than just your lips. With your arms bound, he’s not able to take your top off entirely so he settles with yanking it down, freeing your breasts.

“Fuck baby, you’re so pretty. Look atcha!”

Your tits must be tender and aching, because the moment Hizashi’s mouth envelops one of your nipples, sucking at the pert nub, a fresh sob bursts from your lungs and you’re trying desperately to wriggle away.

Hizashi just frowns, breaking away for a second to brush a stray lock of hair back behind your ear, “Ah shit, sorry babe! I’ll be gentle, promise.”

Shouta’s far too preoccupied by the intoxicating taste of your sweet cunt to notice whether he actually does or not, but he trusts him not to push you too far. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.

Your baby bump is cute and all, but Shouta wishes that it wasn’t blocking his view of your face – he wants to watch every little expression as he slides two thick fingers into your dripping cunt and your hips buck up to meet him. It’s a twisted kind of pride he feels, pride fused with filthy, maddening pleasure as he pulls a string of choked moans from you with just a few shallow thrusts of his fingers.

His jaw’s slicked with your juices, your cunt sucking his fingers deeper when he turns his attention back to your poor, neglected clit. He can tell that you’re close, not just from the needy whimpers and the way your muscles are tensing beneath him, but the desperate canting of your hips, rocking up against his face even as you beg for relief.

“Shouta, Shouta, please– oh god, please stop, p-please!”

He longs to wrap a fist around his throbbing cock, desperate to help relieve the burning ache deep in his gut as you cum for the first time on his tongue. Or better yet, maybe have Hizashi wrap that perfect mouth of his around his cock and suck him off–

But now’s not the time for him to be greedy. 

Rough fingertips prod at your walls, searching for that hidden little spot that’s gonna make you go wild–

You almost convulse when he finds it, and Shouta can’t help but smirk against your cunt as you tighten and quiver around his digits. With Hizashi playing with your tits, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses along your neck, Shouta’s lips wrapped around your clit, tongue flicking at the sensitive pearl as he suckles on it and long, thick fingers driving you to madness with each and every stroke, it’s too much for your poor, pregnant, oversensitive body to handle.

You cum with a strangled shriek, and Shouta almost moans at the flood of juices that gush from your trembling cunt onto his waiting tongue. 

“How’s she taste, baby?” Hizashi asks, green eyes blown wide, his own erection straining against his leather pants. 

Shouta doesn’t waste a beat, pushing himself up with one arm and grabbing his husband’s wrist with the other, yanking him into a fierce kiss – letting him taste your honeyed juices on his tongue.

Fingers tangle in dark locks, tugging him closer, and ‘Zashi lets out a low, throaty groan. It’s rough and eager, a slow burning frenzy that makes the blood in his veins sing with excitement. With their lips still locked, the blonde hastily yanks at the zipper on his pants, freeing the painfully hard member with a tight hiss. 

But when he finally does break for air, it’s not Shouta that he addresses, but you, lying spent, crying and breathless between them, beautiful in your fucked out state.

“You can’t expect to put on a show like that and not get me all worked up, sweet thing,” he coos, taking his flushed, throbbing cock in hand and giving it a few slow, cursory pumps. “I’m gonna fuck ya so good, baby – have you singin’ like a little birdie for me,” his eyes meet Shouta’s, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips. “Nothin’ but the best for our cute ‘lil wife. Whaddya say, songbird? Lemme make you feel all nice and special, yeah?”

[taxolotl]

Heads up!! Emotional hurt and a lot of poorly written angst ahead so proceed with caution :]] Scroll past if you’re not feeling good right now <33 

It’s three in the morning, and George is probably heating up the ramen. It’s three in the morning and Dream is lying on his bed, typing out message after message, half-delirious. 

It’s three in the morning, and the words he’d said in the podcast keep replaying themselves in his head.

“‘Does anything in the house remind you of George?’” Dream had read, and instinctively glanced at the room opposite his open door. His eyes snagged on the ‘Minecraft Champion’ sign, and Dream smiled a little at the memory of George laughing and cheering, his avatar jumping around on the podium.

“That’s a dumb question, guys.” Dream propped his chin on his palms and adjusted his mic stand. “I feel like everything, in some small way, reminds me of George.” Dream paused, searching for the right words.

“It’s like the house is waiting for him, when I kind of already expect to see him, y’know? Like I’ve been thinking about this and waiting for it for so long that it feels more like a memory than… than something I’m still waiting for.” Hamilton, his chat screamed, recognising the reference.

George had chuckled, barely audible. “Nerd,” he teased. “You’ve been spending too much time with Wilbur.”

Dream scrunched his nose and scoffed indignantly. “Says the person who makes a living by playing video games, and lives on the same continent as him.”

Dream waved his hand around, talking to the imaginary audience in his computer. “Pot, kettle, black,” he singsonged smugly.

George had laughed, quiet and loud at the same time. “It’s not like I can do anything about either of those things. You’re so dumb.” Fondness had crept into his voice, and Dream was certain he would make a fool out of himself thousands of times to hear it again.

“Okay- okay. Listen.” Dream tried to get his mind back on track. “It’s like when you’re sleeping, right? Maybe you heard something or saw something that happened in your dream.

“And then, when something reminds you of that, you can’t figure out if it’s real or not. Whether that happened in the dream or in real life. Just like how you get deja vu when somebody says something someone else had in a dream, and you’re thinking ‘oh this happened right?’ but you’re not really sure.

“It’s like that. George being here is… like that, yeah.” 

Dream rubbed his hands over his face, uncomfortable the way he always is when he had said just a little too much and fucked it all up. God damn it.

Usually George would’ve cracked a joke by now, or made a noise to steer the attention away from Dream. He tried not to read too much into it as George stayed silent.

“Alright!” Dream smiled against his will as chat wailed in despair, ‘nooooo’s filling the screen. “We’re-“ I’m “-getting tired now, so I’m gonna go sleep. George hasn’t had dinner yet, guys. Let him eat.”

George’s echo of “yeah, do you want me to die or something, that’s messed up” had remained absent.

Dream had quickly disconnected from the call, the pleasant warmth in his chest morphing into a dull ache.

Just how long do they have to wait until he doesn’t have to dream anymore? How much would it take for Dream to be able to blur the lines between that dream -the waiting and the wanting- and the life he lives?

Their lives are put on infinite pause, both of them waiting for the final piece of their puzzle to slot into place.

Dream looks out of his window at the streetlights below, yellow and blue flooding his vision.

“I think I’m depressed,” George had said months ago, hollow and blunt, and it had stirred something in Dream’s stomach, simultaneously breaking and resonating with something inside him. Dream had fallen silent back then, contemplating whether he should say ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘me too’.

Because he is, isn’t he? Depressed, lonely, deprived of vitamin D- whichever the fuck it is, it’s the cause of the days he spend lying on his bed with the bone-deep feeling of this is not right, palms sweaty and chest tight.

Dream turns over to pick up his phone from the nightstand, just for something to hold as he lies on top of his pillow. He stares out of the window.

If George were here, they would be lying next to each other. The phone in Dream’s hand wouldn’t have to substitute for George’s jaw, or his hand, or the warmth of his back. George’s hands would be warm against his own face, and he would puff out a breath in the way he does when he’s sleepy but wants to stay awake, and he would-

He would be here, next to Dream, tangible and real.

Heat burns behind Dream’s eyes. He can’t be bothered to fight the fire.

It’s November, now.

“He’ll be here by September,” they’d said.

Tears, hot and shameful, slide down Dream’s cheeks and blur his vision.

If it was up to him, George would already be here: by his side in their house and their room and their bed, forever home. 

But it’s not, and George is still in his apartment of boxes in London, waiting for a green card that feels a little more like it’ll never arrive with every passing day.

‘Wish you were here’, Dream types, phone held loosely in his hand and eyes vacant, message unsent.

It stays that way.

.

:] zin :] This is your fault for making that heart-breaking art /j. It was supposed to be short but then the story said no so I went okay and let it drag me around and now here we are. I was gonna write something fluffy to match your recent art vibes I SWEAR but my brain looked at the ‘I need a little loving tonight’ art (wow it was in MAY) and took over my hands

To be honest I wanted to add a poetry reference (you know the poem, 靜夜思 by 李白? Dnf, right there) but the fic ran away from me and I didn’t know where to put it, so please just know that I was going for 舉頭望明月，低頭思故鄉 vibes. I could go on for hours about ancient Chinese poets and their romanticisation of the moon and how well that translates into sun and moon dnf :((((

Anyhow! I hope you enjoyed it, please read at night so it’ll seem less cringe lmao

-moon anon, hoping tumblr doesn't butcher their formatting

[celiamae99]

traitor j.d.

“You should sing at the open mic.” Hanna told me one afternoon, “Singing usually gets your mind off of everything that is going on and you definitely need to get your mind off of Jason.”

“Hanna! I’m fine!” I told her stubbornly, trying to make myself presentable for school today.

“Yeah and I’ve never been shoplifting before,” Hanna rolled her eyes at me. I gave her a look. “Look, you and Jason broke up, for reasons that I do not understand because you refuse to talk about them, but you need to move on.”

“He's dating someone else now.” I said quietly. “It hasn’t even been two weeks later and he’s already dating somebody else.”

“Let’s go,” Hanna said softly. “We can grab coffee along the way.”

When Hanna and I walked into the coffee shop, giggling about the newest Taylor Swift album. I looked up right as I bumped into somebody. Jason. He looked down at me and his eyes looked so guilty.

brown guilty eyes and little white lies yeah, i played dumb but i always knew that you'd talk to her, maybe did even worse i kept quiet so i could keep you 

Flashback

“Belle, you have nothing to worry about. I’ve just been driving her home after to school so Toby doesn’t have too, and it’s literally just along the way to my place.”

“I know,” I sighed. “It’s just after Noel...”

“I’m not Noel.” He told me, lifting my chin up. “I love you.” He kissed me breathless.

“I love you too,” I looked up at him shyly. I had more questions but I didn’t ask because I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answers.

and ain't it funny how you ran to her the second that we called it quits?

and ain't it funny how you said you were friends? now it sure as hell don't look like it

Present

“Uhh, hey.” He said softly.

I blindly reached for Hanna. “Hey Jason. We just came to get coffee. We’ll see you at the pep rally?”

“Sure, but Belle --” 

Hanna tugged me along and I followed her.

“Hey, Babe.” I heard him say softly and my heart sunk. I gripped Hanna’s hand tighter and Hanna gripped just as tightly as she ordered us our drinks.

“Yeah,” Hanna said. “A non-fat vanilla late frap with vanilla and hazelnut and a iced coffee with vanilla and sweet cream cold foam and a regular coffee with two percent milk.”

I glanced back at Jason and his girlfriend and quickly ran to Caleb when he walked in the door.

“Hey, what --” I sighed deeply, relishing in the person who was basically my big brother. “I really want to kill him.” He muttered holding me tightly as I tried my best not to cry.

“Let’s wait outside for Hanna.” He directed me outside.

“I’m going to sing,” I told him. “At the open mic night.”

“You’ll do amazingly.”

Later that night, I sat myself down at the piano and readied myself for singing.

“This song is called traitor.” Once I got to the chorus, I let go completely, singing all of my emotions.

you betrayed me and i know that you'll never feel sorry For the way i hurt, yeah you'd talk to her when we were together loved you at your worst but that didn't matter

it took you two weeks to go off and date her guess you didn't cheat but you're still a traitor

Flashback

“God, I just don’t know what to do anymore,” He told me, raking his hands through his hair aggressively.

“Hey,” I said plopping down next to him. “It will all be okay.” 

“I just hate my parents sometimes. They expect too much of me. I’m not like Ali and they don’t get that.”

“I know, I’m so so sorry.” I said, rubbing his back gently, slowly letting my hands replace his in his hair. “But you don’t have to be anybody else but you.”

He looked up at me and leaned over and kissed me.

Present

Now you bring her around Just to shut me down Show her off like she's a new trophy

And I know if you were true There's no damn way that you Could fall in love with somebody that quickly

Ain't it funny All the twisted games All the questions you used to avoid?

Ain't it funny? Remember I brought her up And you told me I was paranoid

Flashback

“I can’t keep doing this,” I screamed at Jason, shoving him back. “I can’t keep fighting with you and pretending that I am okay when clearly I am not okay. We are constantly fighting and hurting each other and I can’t do this anymore.”

“What are you saying?” Jason asked harshly.

“I’m saying this needs to change! Why are we the way we are? What changed? When did everything switch? Why!” I begged him to answer me, but he wouldn’t look at me anymore. “Is it her?” I said dully. I sank down on his bed, gripping my forehead and hair harshly.

“You’re just being paranoid,” Jason said. “I’m not with her. We are just friends.” He tried to reassure me, rubbing me.

“I just feel like this is failing. Like I’m failing. Like we are failing.”

“It will get better.”

Present

you betrayed me and I know that you'll never feel sorry for the way I hurt, yeah you'd talk to her when we were together loved you at your worst but that didn't matter

it took you two weeks to go off and date her guess you didn't cheat but you're still a traitor

Flashback

“I’m so done I’m done with you being paranoid all the time. All you can think about is A and how they are going to tear us apart or how I might be cheating on you but I’m not! And A won’t tear us apart unless we let them.”

“I can’t help how I feel! I’m just trying to be honest with you.”

“I know you are and I appreciate that but we aren’t going work if you don’t trust me or our relationship!”

“I want this to work, but I can’t change how I feel!” I screamed in frustration.

“Then I guess you know where this leaves us.” Jason told me softly, looking out the window.

“Yeah, I guess we do.” I shook my head, willing myself not to cry.

you betrayed me

god, i wish that you had thought this through before i went and fell in love with you when she's sleeping in the bed we made don't you dare forget about the way

Flashback

I knocked on Jason’s door hesitantly, wanting to grab some of the stuff that I had left there.

“Jase?” I called, walking in the back door that was usually always unlocked. “Jase, are you here?”

Jason bolted down the stairs. He was shirtless and his hair was devilish. I knew that look. I had given him that look before.

“I should have called,” I choked out putting two and two together. He had a girl upstairs.

“It’s not -- it’s not what --” He tried to say.

“I’m going to go.” I let out a dry sob.

“Jason?” My mouth opened when I heard her voice. Jason closed his eyes and I looked between the two.

“Really?” I asked quietly. “Really?” I turned around and stalked out of the house.

“Wait! Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. It’s not -- Belle, it’s not what it looks like.”

“Then tell me what it looks like! Because it looks like you told me not to be paranoid about the person who is currently naked in your house probably sleeping with you in the bed that is ours!”

“I never did anything with her while we were together.”

“You’re still a traitor.”

Present

'cause i know that you'll never feel sorry for the way i hurt, yeah you'd talk to her when we were together you gave me your word but that didn't matter

god, i wish that you had thought this through before i went and fell in love with you

“You sang beautifully.” Jason told me at the counter, where I was waiting for Zach to come out with my coffee. I stared down at the counter. “I’m sorry that it had to take me hurting you for me to hear you sing. And I’m so sorry for everything.”

“God, Jase. I wish that you had thought everything through before I went and fell in love with you.”

“I will win you back.” Jason vowed as I walked away from my coffee towards Hanna, Emily, Toby and Caleb.

[orange-waterfalls]

Gamer Boy Crush

Googleplier Red x reader

ty, albinopines anon for the request

A/N: ALBINOPINES. albinopines my beloved i need you to listen to me. i love you albinopines. anyways the reader’s gamer tag is albinopines cdjsvfge. i feel like it’s important to note that i’ve never played an online shooter ever in my life. all the info I have is from youtube videos. I wrote this under the assumption that Red accidentally played with a group of people who were already friends. Also Googleplier Red is Elliott and he’s an angry bitch but we love that for him. Uhhhhh there’s not much plot to this At All Mr Red just made an online friend and that friend is you. his POV. Who doesn’t develop a crush on their online friends every once and a while? DISCLAIMER: I LOVE BUGSNAX AND HOLLOW KNIGHT I JUST THINK RED WOULD LOOK AT ANYTHING COLORFUL AND CARTOONISH AND TURN AWAY AND ALSO YOU SHOULD PLAY BUGSNAX AND/OR HOLLOW KNIGHT

Enjoy!

Word count: 2.4k

Gamer Boy Crush

Elliott scowled deeply when he heard Oliver laugh from his area of the room. He was so loud and happy all the Goddamn time. It was infuriating. He wouldn’t say that because Lee would get pissed and refuse to tell him how to do the puzzles in Resident Evil (he wasn’t very smart when it came to those). So he had to sit and cope. He clenched his fist and willed himself not to overheat when he heard more laughing from the yellow Android. He walked over to his wall, tempted to punch it, but decided on knocking on it like a door and plopping back down in his chair. He snatched up his controller and put on his headphones. Maybe a game or whatever will calm his nerves.

He scrolled through his games for a bit, knowing he was too angry to properly play anything, but not wanting to play anything cutesy, like whatever the fuck Oliver was trying to make him play. Bugsnax? Hollow Knight? Disgusting.

His eyes landed on a multiplayer shooter. He usually didn’t go for those types, because people fucking suck, but he thought: oh well. It’s been a boring day. So, he opened the game.

“YO WHAT’S GOOD, GAMERS” Someone yelled into their headset the moment he got in. He flinched and immediately took his off. He could still hear him from where it was on his desk.

my guy u r so damn loud keep it the fuck down - he typed in the chat. He heard a “FUCK YOU” from the headset that made him snort.

im taking my headset off - another player typed out.

me 2 - he responded.

The one guy kept yelling and he was starting to get annoyed but the game hadn’t even started. 

albinopines: @xgoogleredx hello :) 

He tilted his head at the message.

xgoogleredx: hey

albinopines: ur name’s cool

xgoogleredx: urs too, albinopines

albinopines: thanks i made it myself

He chuckled a little at the response. 

xgoogleredx: hey so like i haven’t played this game ever i need help

albinopines: it’s ok i’ll help u

He smiled and suddenly he was in the game. He panicked a little, but played as best he could.

They won the first round because he got a lucky headshot, and he couldn’t help but be happy that the rest of the team was happy. He decided to put his headset back on, and--

“HEY GOOGLERED I’M TALKING TO YOU!” Albinopines said loudly into their mic.

“What the FUCK do you want?” He growled. Everyone was silent for a moment.

“You did really good and I’m proud of you,” they said softly. Somebody else laughed and he smiled.

“Thanks.” He sighed.

“Alright let’s fucking GO, BOYS,” They yelled and he took his headset off again. The other players let out a chorus of “LET’S GOOOOO�� “GIT ‘ER DONE” “USA, USA” and he was positive he’d never met anyone this excited to play any game ever in his life. He debated in his head for a moment, before putting the headset back on. 

Everyone was messing around during the countdown, including one player just spinning in a circle the whole time and albinopines continuously trying to jump on his head.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He wheezed.

“I’m-I’m tryna make a tactical… decision.” They responded.

“Try-Tryna pull a voltron.” Another person added.

“YE-Yeah a fuckin… V-Voltron. Power Rangers. Just-Just stay still for a second.”

The timer ran out and they were audibly disappointed, but started moving. Everyone was quiet for a bit, and nothing much happened.

“Yo, Red on your left.” Albinopines said quietly. He didn’t understand, so he just kept moving. “Red your left. On your-RED ON YOUR LEFT!” They were increasingly panicked and he turned just in time to get shot in the face by an enemy player.

“DUDE!”

“I SAID ON YOUR LEFT”

“YOU FUCKING IDIOT”

“Hey don’t call my son an idiot”

He laughed loudly at that, and spectated until the next round. He took a deep breath, staring at their operator on the screen, before making a decision.

“Parental figure, I require assistance,”

“WH-Yeah, what is it.”

“How… do I… use… my drone.”

The voice chat erupted with laughter and he felt a small sense of pride.

“WELL, I THINK WE’RE A BIT LATE IN THE GAME FOR THAT BUD…”

He spoke a bit more in this round and was a more active participant in the actual game, making him feel happy. Even when they lost the final round, he wasn’t that unhappy about it. 

And when they lost the next game.

And the next one.

And when they finally won a game, everyone cheered before saying they needed to leave and that it was getting late.

“WAIT wait guys I have an important question.” He said. Everyone quieted. “... how… do I send friend requests.” a series of groans from everyone else.

“Well, you have to--” albino started. And then the screen closed. His eyes widened in horror as he flailed around to look at his computer. 

“Game crashed. Shit happens.” Lee mumbled. Elliott buried his head in his hands. He sighed heavily and stared at his screen for a minute, mourning the loss.

He got a message.

albinopines - hi! sorry about da game. getting disconnected sucks :(

He smirked a bit.

xgoogleredx - would u believe this is my 1st time playing 

albinopines - considering u didn’t kno a basic mechanic i would lmao

xgoogleredx - might delete the game

albinopines - well, i swear its fun once u win multiple times

xgoogleredx - im p sure u r the only person i liked playing with

He widened his eyes when he realized how that sounded.

xgoogleredx - i mean like u and the team

xgoogleredx - like all of u

xgoogleredx - not just u

albinopines - aw ty

albinopines - that y u said person instead of ppl?

He scowled a little, but chuckled. Cheeky fucker.

xgoogleredx - hey

xgoogleredx - fuck you

albinopines - sorry lmaooo

albinopines - pullin out the fully spelled words?

albinopines - r u mad at me? /j

albinopines - but also /srs

xgoogleredx - nah, not really

He sat for a few minutes, waiting for a response. He got a little worried that maybe they thought he was actually upset and wanted to leave him alone. He didn’t want that. He didn’t have any friends (online or in real life) and he was honestly pretty lonely. This was fun. Entertaining. This person entertained him. 

While he stewed in self-pity and doubt, he got a notification.

A friend request from albinopines.

He smiled and took it.

albinopines - hey hey u wanna play minecraft?

xgoogleredx - sure

xgoogleredx - i don’t like the headset, can i only communicate through chat.

albinopines - oh, that’s fine :)

He waited a minute or so before getting an invite and entering the Minecraft world. He smiled at the custom skin squatting and jumping at him repeatedly before copying it. They threw him some wood, a chest, and some meat before jumping off to do something else. He turned his character to look back, and saw a door that presumably led to the interior of their house. Elliott smiled and went to follow albinopines.

--

“What are you doing?” Elliott jumped when he heard one of his ‘brothers’ talk to him. His computer faced Lee’s area, so he always spied on what the red android was doing. Elliott scowled at him.

“Nothing,” He said.

“Who’s ‘albinopines’?” Lee asked, ignoring him.

“Nobody,” Elliott snapped. Lee didn’t say anything else, so he kept playing. Your Minecraft world was coming along nicely. He didn’t really like these kinds of games, but you liked it, so he wanted to play. 

“... that’s not what you mine that with.” Lee said suddenly, making Elliott jump.

“Can you… leave me alone?” He twisted around to look at his green brother.

“Fine, lose the redstone. See if I care.” He went back to trimming a bonsai tree on his desk. Elliott mumbled angrily and turned back to the game. He paused before mining.

He switched to the stone axe and heard Lee chuckle from behind him. He wanted to curse at him, but you typed in the minecraft chat.

albinopines - where art thou

xgoogleredx - underground

xgoogleredx - mining redstone

albinopines - hell yeah!

albinopines - where the stairs

xgoogleredx - what stairs

There wasn’t a response for a while and Elliott thought he might’ve messed up.

albinopines - red

xgoogleredx - ye

albinopines - did u dig straight down

xgoogleredx - ye

Lee barked out a laugh behind him.

xgoogleredx - y?

albinopines - well u can’t come back up 

albinopines - w/o getting rid of all ur cobble

albinopines - and also that’s the worst idea ever

xgoogleredx - o

albinopines - i’ll throw u some dirt dont u worry bab

Elliott smiled at the screen a little. He didn’t like acting weak in any situation, but this was a special case.

xgoogleredx - noises scawy :(

albinopines - u stay right there im comin

xgoogleredx - help

albinopines - pines is on da way

albinopines - voila!

A bunch of dirt suddenly entered his inventory

albinopines - dirt for the noob

xgoogleredx - my savior

He made his way back up the hole.

albinopines - that’ll be all ur redstone pls

He snorted.

xgoogleredx - no

albinopines - u don’t even know what to do w/it

xgoogleredx - it’s mine

albinopine - ill fight u 4 it

xgoogleredx - fine

He equipped his wooden sword. The other equipped a diamond sword and a shield. His eyes widened before they started attacking. He tried attacking back, but died quickly.

“Loooooseeeeer…” Lee teased from his area. Elliott spun around to glare at him. The android had an infuriating smirk on his face as he snipped at the little tree. Elliott turned back around and made his way back to where he died. There was a chest, but the other person was gone.

xgoogleredx - where’s my shit

albinopines - the box, dummy

xgoogleredx - o

xgoogleredx - thanks

albinopines - ooooh gettin’ real late

albinopines - I gotta go

xgoogleredx - aw

xgoogleredx - c u l8r

albinopines - c ya

He exited the world and sighed as he scooted away from his PC. A noise sounded throughout the room, signifying it was time to charge. All 4 androids went into the center and sat on the couch. They all closed their eyes as they were plugged into the wall. Usually, they all were silent as they charged, taking the time to simply recuperate. Usually.

“Someone has a gamer boy crush,” Lee said in a sing-song voice. Elliott’s eyes snapped open and he silently swore he’d murder his brother one of these days. Oliver let out an obnoxiously loud gasp.

“Sorry, are we talking about Elliott? As in… Elliott?” Google asked like he was surprised. 

“Baby’s first online crush!” Oliver laughed. Correction. Elliott swore that he would kill all of his brothers. Slowly. Painfully.

“He’s been talking with albinopines a lot. Even played with them all night one night.” Lee explained. Elliott was now mortified and his eyes were wide. How did he know? WHY did he know? He thought Lee was sleeping. Not that they needed to sleep, but some of them enjoyed sleeping. Like Lee and Oliver. Elliott had done that when he thought they were asleep. Were they not asleep???

“Awwww…” Oliver cooed. If Elliott had blood, he’d be blushing. As it was, it felt like his processor was going to catch on fire and there was steam coming out of his ears.

“Ew.” Google gave him a look he didn’t enjoy.

“I don’t… have a crush.” He said slowly and firmly to get it through their thick heads.

“Please…” Lee snorted, “It’s obvious.”

Elliott sank down in the couch and squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for his brothers to wear themselves out and stop teasing him.

--

Elliott hadn’t heard from you in a bit and he was starting to get worried. Had he come on too strong? Did they get bored of him? What happened? He didn’t want to seem desperate by messaging you first. But he was desperate, and he missed his friend. 

“They’re at work,” Lee said. Elliott rolled his eyes, tempted to just dismiss the statement, but he paused.

“... how do you know that?” He asked slowly. He knew that Lee could just look up the gamer tag and go from there, but he didn’t seem the type. He turned to his brother, who was smiling while gaming away on his Xbox. “Lee.” He called out. Lee glanced at him.

“Hm?” He hummed. Elliott clenched his fist.

“How do you know that?” He repeated. Lee sighed, pausing his game and taking his headset off.

“Do you think I’m just gonna let my brother talk to a stranger on the internet without talking to them first?” He asked smugly.

“You talked to them?!” Elliott all but yelled.

“They said that they have fun playing with you!” Oliver called out. Elliott whipped around to look at Oliver, then back at Lee.

“Also they said that you’re a little weird…” Elliott squinted at him. “Their words.”

“Incorrect, they said that you’re fun to talk to,” Google corrected. Elliott squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in his hands.

God, he was embarrassed. This was embarrassing. He couldn’t have this one thing? This one thing to himself? 

He heard a sigh from Lee and picked his head up to scowl again.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” He rolled his eyes and put his headset back on, continuing the game he was playing, “I’m not their friend. I’m just the protective, nosy brother in their eyes.” Elliott didn’t answer, instead facing his computer. He typed a quick apology message out, before continuously erasing and retyping to make it sound less whiny, less mean, less sad, less anything. Lee huffed a bit.

“‘Hi, sorry for my brothers. They’re nosy and I hate them. Wanna play Minecraft?’” He recited. Elliott froze. He sighed, typing out the message word for word, before sending it. He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. He closed his eyes, listening to the small taps of Lee’s controller, Oliver’s humming, and the soft whir of the computer fan. Eventually, he heard the notification sound and looked at his screen.

albinopines - nah, ur good lol. sure i’d love 3

albinopine - *2

He smiled softly, entering the world. As he played, he knew Lee was watching. He’d long since stopped pretending he was playing, as the sounds of the controller stopped, but Elliott didn’t think he minded too much. 

“You can’t mine diamonds with gold, you made that pickaxe for no reason.”

“CAN you PLEASE SHUT THE FUCK UP?”

[xlehukax]

Still Beating Heart

Foreword: Hello! I’ve been working on this thing for a little while now, and it’s finally done! This fanfiction is set in the Pediatric Doctors AU that I made, that you can learn more about here.  It’s done in conjunction to writings by @eeveeeclair246​, to who has the first installment of this series, titled Inefficent Iron, which you can find here. And, if you don’t want to read on Tumblr, I get it! This will also be on Archives in a hot minute, so check my Masterpost for the link. Now, on with the show!

Ships: Roman x Virgil, Implied Remus x Logan

Word Count: 10215

Warnings: LANGUAGE, Alcoholism, Bars, Panic Attacks, Medical Issues (ie. weak hearts), Cheating, Implied Sexual Content, Implied Rape, that creeping feeling of regret. 

Summary: Virgil’s always been the quiet nurse, the prickly one, the don’t talk to me unless there’s an issue one. Roman’s fresh out of a relationship, and looking to go out on the town, and needs a friend to go along with. And Virgil can’t say no to his crush, even if they work in the same place. 

~~~~

It’s just another day at the office: by that, Virgil means, Patton’s handing out cookies, Logan’s being a work-aholic and refuses to let any of the patients go to Janus, in which is being very meticulous and annoyingly good at his job and refusing to let Virgil do his, Remus is going through the latest urine samples, and Roman is doing what Roman does best. Ranting about his latest breakup while painting his nails in the receptionist booth. 

And Virgil just happens to be the only one around, after Patton leads the last patient of the day to Logan and the waiting room finally empties. Virgil simply sighs in defeat, and tries to shrink into his nurse uniform. Let it be known, he did not choose to be there. Or ever.

“Emo, are you even listening?” 

“Yup, yes, I am, absolutely,” 

“Alright, just had to make sure, you know, you tend to ignore me, which you’d think is impossible but you never cease to surprise me in that regard. Anyway, so this guy, Ethan- total dreamboat, eyes bluer than you’d ever believe. So I met him on this app, and we went for drinks a few weeks ago: and thirty minutes in, I’m in love. He’s a painter. Sweetest guy- we end up at his apartment, and you know- but I was in it for the long haul. Virgil, I was really ready for a long-term with this guy. He seemed  like he was down for it too… and then, just yesterday, you know what I found in his apartment?” 

“Another person,” Virgil sighs.

“Some floozy, blond and covered in hickeys, and Ethan painting her. Like, I didn’t know what to be more offended about: the fact that he cheated on me or that he doesn’t have a sexy painting of me!” 

“Mhmm…” Virgil’s almost fallen asleep, and doesn’t even notice Roman hovering utop him until he’s right in his face. 

“Virgil-” Roman shouts, and Virgil startles right into Roman’s arms. Which he now is realizing quite quickly are not just incredibly strong because they hold his weight easily, but landing their faces inches apart. Virgil sucks in a gasp- Roman smirks. “Hey there… you know, you’re not too bad looking yourself. Under all that makeup, you’re quite the princess, aren’t you?” It takes Virgil a moment to craft a response, he’s so scatterbrained and blushing. 

“Fuck off Princey, I’m not your latest conquest,” Virgil hisses, still a large flush on his features. Roman flicks his nose. 

“Yeah, but you’re still cute. Maybe I should date you~” 

“In your fucking dreams- you cycle through boyfriends so fast, I’ll be dust in the wind,” 

“Hmm,” Roman still hasn’t let Virgil go, and it is not helping the warmth in his face whatsoever, “Can’t argue with that.” And then Virgil is unceremoniously dumped onto the chair he was sitting in, with Roman towering above him. Did he always have those pretty eyes? He’s got these fantastically plump lips, it really shows when he’s smirking like that. And that hair is quite… quite royal-  now that he’s looking at it- 

Bloody hell, stop, now’s not the time to fawn, Virgil curses at himself. Virgil has always been introverted, and this- this interaction, Roman’s boldness with him… it’s completely unfamiliar. A bold move, reaching into his space, completely ignoring all of the protective glares and hisses that Virgil had in place. Disregarded his shields completely. Virgil has been harboring a bit of an infatuation with this confident musical wonder as of late, and this is not helping matters. Roman chuckles, running a hand through his hair. 

“Well, J.Delightful, now I simply must make use of this situation,” 

“What are you getting at-” Virgil snarls, to which Roman simply grins widely.

“You’re going to be my new wingman. There’s a open mic at a gay bar I frequent, and if I’m going to find somebody, then I need someone else to be my safety buddy. You know, watch for creepy old men who hit on me and all that jazz,” Roman pushes, eyes alight with excitement, “Patton won’t go with me anymore because he doesn’t like the loud noises, Logan doesn’t drink, I’m not asking Janus to come he’ll scare them all away or steal the attention, and Remus- well, you can probably guess why not Remus, and it’s not because people approach us because we’re twins. I can’t believe I’ve never asked you to come with me! It’ll give us some good outside of work bonding time too. Isn’t it great?” 

“I don’t want to,” Virgil grumbles. Roman tuts. 

“Oh come on now- am I so hard to be around?” No, Virgil thinks, and that’s the problem. “Pfft, if it’s really so hard, I’ll just cave and bring around someone else.” 

“No…” Virgil whispers, so quiet that he’s sure it’s nearly silent, and Roman’s eyebrow perks up. 

“Hmm? Was that a no I just heard?” 

“I just- I’m not good in social situations, do you even really want me there? I’ll probably just screw your chances, scare people off,” 

“Perfect! I’ll need someone to scare someone off,” 

“But- I’ll damper on your fun,” 

“Never! You will never cease to be fun to poke fun at,” 

“I don’t know, Princey. You really want me there?” Virgil says, looking away and speaking in hushed tones still. Roman grabs his pale hands, squeezing them tightly. 

“I need you, Virge,” Roman purrs. Virgil blushes harder, somehow, and tucks his head into his shoulder and murmurs his agreement. Damn it. “Wonderful! I’ll pick you up at 9, how does that sound?” 

“Wait, tonight?” Virgil squawks. Roman drops his hands, blessedly, and steps back from him shrewdly. Smart, as Virgil’s immediate response is to throw a punch. Roman easily sidesteps. 

“Oh, yes- did I not mention that? Tonight. It’s Friday,” Roman nods, smiling wickedly. Oh my god, I need to bathe, I need to find something nice-ish to wear, unearth my good eyeshadow, fuck it all I need new skin- 

“Hey, hey, don’t freak. You don’t have to get all fancy for me: wear what makes you comfortable, and I’ll stop by your apartment at 9,” 

“Wait a second- how do you know where I live?” Virgil says, suddenly horrified. Roman snickers. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Uh, yes I would,” Virgil growls. 

“Pfft, I need to know everyone’s addresses, I’m the receptionist, Virge. It’s my job,” Roman scoffs. Virgil blushes: well, now he feels foolish. But it reminds him: Roman and himself work together. It doesn’t matter if something comes out of this, as it is- Remus and Logan are constantly being sickeningly cute around the office. The real problem is if he screws this up, and still has to go to work with him the next day. This is a really bad idea. But… When will he have another golden opportunity like this one? 

“Okay, okay- 9, right?”

“Yes! Thank you, My Chemically Imbalanced Romance- you’re going to have so much fun. I’ll sing a song just for you, as thanks,” Roman grins cheekily, Virgil blows the hair out of his eyes, attempting nonchalant despite the whirlwind of anxiety confined within. 

“Alright, fine, whatever. Should I- should I dress a certain way? Wait, is there a dress code? How much money should I bring? Is it credit or cash? Do they have food there? Will I have to dance?” Virgil shudders at the thought of dancing, even with Roman, who is currently blinking rapidly under the onslaught of questions. 

“Okay erm, just dress how you normally do? Scratch that, a peg hotter than a hoodie, thank you. No dress code, have you ever been to a bar? Just bring your wallet, think about how many drinks you want, and I’m dancing whether you’re going to or not, so-” 

Virgil takes notes internally, already too worried about this whole ordeal. He should really just cancel, say he just remembered something, but he knows he’ll regret that later. Either way, the only other thing he’s doing tonight is hanging with his spider, Missy, and watching Unsolved Mysteries. So…

“I’ll- I’ll see you later then, Princey,” Virgil murmurs, before gathering the few things he has around him and breezing past whilst trying to make it appear like he’s not running away. 

“See you!! At least pretend to be excited- It’s going to be one hell of a night, Virge- you won’t regret this!” 

As Virgil silently clocks out (Patton will take over the end of the day nurse activities, it’s fine) he thinks to himself, I certainly hope not. 

~~~~~

And then, it’s already 8:50, too soon. Virgil showered, twice, because the first time he used his usual unscented body wash for work and not the one that smells like lavender and violets and by jove Roman inviting him out after work deserves more than unscented. Then the clothes resulted in a mini fashion show in front of the mirror for an hour, where upon he finally settled on a black button down over a grey undershirt with some black ripped jeans (it took him another 25 minutes to decide on mostly untucked in a ‘I just threw this on’ careless feel), and his favorite purple and black hoodie just in case it got cold… of which he ended up shivering right away anyhow and put it on anyway. 

And then a whole other hour on makeup: a very tasteful black eyeliner and purple and black smokey eye with just a hint of dark glitter. Some lipstick, and a little dust on his cheekbones, and Virgil finally felt confident, an emotion that lasted all of ten minutes when he realized that he hadn’t chosen a pair of shoes yet. 

The shoes took another thirty minutes alone. And then the idea of changing his hair up a little occurred to him, and that was another hour wasted that ended with keeping his regular low-hanging hair anyway. 

And now he’s trying not to look like he’s waiting, because he doesn’t want to be waiting on Roman, but he needs to see if his car comes up, but he doesn’t want to be desperate, so he’s panicking slightly in his apartment with all the lights off because he was going to leave and now he’s freaking out instead, because he doesn’t know if it’s more appropriate to wait for Roman to text him that he’s outside and head downstairs after that or to just head downstairs now like a normal person or maybe he just shouldn’t go. His head slowly stops pounding, and his breath evens out, the oncoming anxiety attack fading away with the thought. Yeah, maybe Virgil can stay home instead- there’s too many variables anyway. 

When Virgil was young, he was always making decisions like this. He was sick, not like crazy-sick, but sick. Anemia, coupled with coronary heart disease, topped off with bronchitis. He had weak lungs, weak heart, weak blood- his whole body was frail, and sometimes his blood didn’t move around fast enough to make him work right. There was no running around, no nothing: he was constantly worried about every little thing, because his parents were. Did you take your pills today? How was your bloodwork? Are you feeling woozy? Until Virgil just stopped leaving the house whatsoever. It was just easier. There was no chance of passing out while crossing a street and getting run over, never going to embarrass himself at school by having a heart attack… 

And wouldn’t you know, staying at home made him only sicker. No muscle mass whatsoever, pale as a ghost, always so cold, so frail from not getting enough nutrients. His parents made the best decision of their lives and set him down the path that led him here by… by hiring a nurse. A kind nurse, with funny jokes and encouragement, who helped him go outside for the first time in months. Who taught him little things to make him stronger, like light weights. Virgil grew out of his heart disease, and though he still had bronchitis and anemia, he regularly took medications which made them easy to handle. And just like that, Virgil was no longer sickly (at least externally, he still had anxiety, but he’s managing it). Then he was a normal teenager, who wanted to be strong enough to help someone in the same way that nurse had. 

 Here Virgil is now- and he’s not going to fall into that same loop he was in as a kid. He’s better now, medicating only when needed. Virgil is all lean-muscle, and he’s better than his anxiety. He can totally go on a date-not-a-date with his crush to a gay karaoke bar. Totally. Taking a deep breath, Virgil checks his phone (which is fully charged with two mini backup batteries on his keys tucked into his back pocket) and realizes with horror that Roman texted a whole six minutes ago while Virgil was panicking that he was waiting downstairs.

“Shit!” Virgil slams his door, and just runs down the stairs instead of taking the elevator (he only lives on the fourth floor anyway, because anything higher than like 10 fire ladders can’t get to and there’s a 50% possibility of surviving a fall from four stories), and hopes his meticulous makeup job isn’t ruined. By Roman’s expression, he doesn’t think it did- 

He had been grinning teasingly, mouth open to say some quip, but his jaw goes slack when he sees Virgil. Roman’s eyes are wide, leaning up against his red car, as he watches Virgil stop by the curb only a few feet in front of him. Roman whistles.

“Damn, Virgil… you look- damn. Wowza, do you clean up nice,” Roman falls over his words, making Virgil flush. Roman thinks I look good- I did good, it’s all good. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Princey,” Virgil whispers. Because really, he doesn’t: Roman’s white dress shirt has the top two buttons undone, showing off his pectorals and just a hint of his abs, and some nice pants. His hair is done over to the side, and one crown earring hangs from an ear. It’s really a delightful look, but makes Virgil feel out of place with his dark clothes and his heavy makeup. Roman only has a light bit. “Did I go overboard? I can- I can wash it off,” Virgil asks, hating that he’s offering to change this intensive and difficult look for a stupid guy.

“No, no- you look gorgeous. Seriously Virge, you should do my makeup. Like, I feel outdone, and I never feel that way! Come on, get on in, let’s go,” Roman shoos Virgil into the car, where he feels just as much if not more awkward. Still, he’s excited, out of this world excited: Roman likes how he looks. Roman finds him attractive, and they’re going to the club, together. 

Not together, Virgil- you’re just his buddy. Virgil has to remind him that this is not a date, that he’s gotten all worried and dressed up for sitting at a bar and watching Roman flirt with other men. It makes his heart ache, but at least they’re together now .

“We’re almost there, Emo. You ready to have a good time?” 

“I uh- erm, I mean. Yeah. Yeah sure, I’ll have fun sitting in the corner doing fucking nothing, that’s what I’m ready for,” Virgil’s suddenly defensive and feels horrible about the crude outburst. 

“Oh my- Virge, do you not want to go? I don’t want to force you into anything!” No, I do, I do! 

“Eh, it’s whatever. I got all dressed up, be a shame to not go out. I just- I don’t like to- I’m-” 

“I know you don’t like being left alone! Don’t worry, I’ll be close by the whole time. I’ll watch you if you watch me, yeah?” 

“Why are you so worried about being watched? You’ve clearly been to a lot of these things…” Virgil changes the subject to hide his flush at Roman’s empathy for him. 

“Ah, well- I have been to a lot of these things, and I’ve had some… unfavorable experiences. A few times now, guys have put stuff in my drinks, or waited for me to get drunk and then take me home. It’s… it’s not what I want. I go to meet new people, not to get a one-night stand that I didn’t want. They don’t make me feel good. I hate it,” Roman growls at the road, and Virgil makes what might be a rash decision and places his long pale hands on Roman’s tanned worn ones by the gearshift. Roman looks over at him, and Virgil ducks his head. Roman smiles. 

“I’ll watch out for you, I promise. I don’t really drink either, ‘cuz of my blood issues, so I can drive home too,” Virgil murmurs, still looking away. Roman moves his hand around, grips his tightly. Virgil doesn’t look at it, but knows they’re intertwined, and it makes his head hurt. 

“Thank you, Virge. Aaand, we’re here,” the bar is bright in the dark evening, a neon sign advertising it, and Roman pulls into a parking space behind the building. He takes his key, and reaches out to put it in Virgil's pocket. “Don’t trust myself to hand em over, this thing’s my baby. I’m trusting you, though, and you gotta be good about that, alright?” 

Virgil nods, and allows Roman to exit the car and help him out the other side. Roman throws his arm over Virgil’s shoulders, and saunters into the bar. As expected, it is loud. Someone’s already singing, a song by Chicago, and is doing pretty okay. There are bright lights here and there, some spots illuminated completely and others in darkness. There’s a whole load of people here too: some make eyes at him as he walks in. Virgil sticks to Roman, who chuckles, as they both head to the bar. The bartender seems to recognize Roman. 

“Here for the open mic, are you, King?” 

“You know it! Sign me right on up,” Roman laughs. Roman’s arm drops from Virgil’s shoulders. The bartender rolls his eyes, swipes some green dyed locks from his vision and writes Roman’s name on a pad. 

“What song are you singing?” 

“It’s a surprise, like usual, Vincent, I don’t know why you even bother asking,” 

“Uh huh. And I see you brought a friend… you wanna sing too, baby-cheeks?” Vincent asks, leaning forwards. 

Virgil hisses at him, then clears his throat.

“I don’t fucking sing,” he snarls, adding in his mind, in public. Vincent smiles knowingly. 

“Aha, a feisty one. You really know how to pick em’, eh? Can I get you a drink then?” Virgil feels like he’s about to explode: this is not what he signed up for. He is here to be with Roman and watch out for him, not take this guy’s shit. Roman notices, and slings his arm once more over him. 

“Nah, just a work colleague. He’s a nurse~ and doesn’t drink. It’s a shame, I know, but it’ll work better in my favor anyway. I’ll save money on the taxi. Incredible Sulk, how does a black coffee sound?” 

“I guess that’s okay,” Virgil grumbles, glaring at this man even as he shrugs and complies. They both take a seat at the bar, Roman ordering some complicated fancy thing to match his personality and Virgil immediately hunching over his hot coffee. It’s surprisingly good for a bar, bitter yet flavourful, and Virgil finds himself smiling down at it. 

“Eh, I think that smile says it’s more than just okay!” Roman purrs, shimmying closer to Virgil and bumping their shoulders. It seems as though the alcohol is already having an effect, his disposition somehow brighter. Virgil shies away slightly. Someone else saddles up to the bar and introduces himself. This man has long swoopy raven hair, and is even more lanky than Logan. He leans by Roman, eyes colder than Virgil would like. The dark haired fellow decides to listen in on the conversation… just in case. 

“Hey, do I know you from somewhere?” the stranger says. Roman puts his hand on the bar, slurps the rest of his drink down in one go.

“I’m not sure- I do tend to get around. Where do you think you know me from, blue eyes?” Oh no. The guy’s got blue eyes, he didn’t even notice that. Virgil mourns his only chance at getting with Roman- this guy’s stealing it. 

 “Oh, I know! The theatre, right? You were Jason Dean in the Heathers production! Scary shit, man. You’re a fantastic singer. Hey, can we get another drink?” the stranger waves over Vincent, who fixes Roman another bright cocktail. Roman immediately starts fiddling with the straw, and looks up at the stanger. 

“The name’s Roman. What’s yours?”

“I’m Lucian. It’s nice to meet you. Man, it’s so loud here: I wish we could go~,” Lucian says. Virgil narrows his eyes at the stranger, takes another sip of coffee. Roman smirks, and turns and winks at Virgil as if to say Look at this catch. Virgil tries to smile, but is pretty sure it’s just a grimace. It may just be Virgil’s luck (despite how it affects Roman) but Virgil notices Lucian dropping something in Roman’s drink. Virgil slams the table, slaps Lucian, and pushes the drink away. He fists his hand in Lucian’s shirt, able to lift the man a foot or two in the air. Patrons gawk at the events unfolding, Roman seems shocked. 

“Don’t fucking touch Roman’s drink, what the fuck did you put in there you bastard?” 

“Dude- that’s my drink. It was a little additive, I can consume alcohol without risk without it! He seemed to be enjoying it so much, I asked for one too, can you please- let me down, you’re hurting me-” Virgil snarls, but drops him anyway. Roman touches Virgil’s shoulder gently. 

“He’s right, it’s his drink, Virgil. Thank you for defending me, but really it’s okay-” Roman reassures him, smiling placatingly, and all Virgil can feel is embarrassed. Embarrassed out of his mind and his anxiety is shooting through the roof. 

“I-I… I- uh… I-” to make matters worse, another man comes stomping up to him, throws his drink on Virgil. His hoodie is now soaked, his shirt too. Virgil’s lower lip trembles. He grits his jaw against them, holding it in. Despite the fact that he’s made a total fool of himself in front of Roman. Virgil wants to bite his nails, to go home, to run away and never return. This new man points his finger right in Virgil’s face. 

“Who the hell do you think you are, grabbing my husband’s shirt like that?” he growls. Virgil wants to hide in his sopping wet hoodie. Hide and never come back. 

“I- erm, uh- umm-” 

“My friend here is very sorry, there’s been a misunderstanding. Hey, can I buy the both of you a drink? Tell me how you met,” Roman leads them both away, looking pityingly at Virgil, “How bout you go to the bathroom and clean yourself up a little, huh? I’ll take care of this.” 

Virgil ducks his head and runs with his tail between his legs. He throws himself into the surprisingly clean stall and locks it tight before falling down on the seat fully clothed. I can’t believe you did that you fucking idiot you’ll never shape up what were you thinking doing some stupid stunt like that? You’ve ruined it. Ruined everything. There’s no way Roman will ever want you now. Virgil’s panic attack is coming on quickly, like a train hurtling down a track with no end in sight. He doesn’t want it to happen, but he starts to cry. 

Usually, Virgil looks to his familiar hoodie for comfort. But his hoodie is soaked, and Virgil is shivering in it. He should take it off. But he doesn’t want to, he just wants to wallow in it and wither away. 

You’ll never amount to anything. You should have just stayed inside: no one would have missed you. Roman had to clean up after your mess, you were supposed to be helping and now you’re just rotting in the bathroom like an idiot. Why did you even come, if you’re just going to be a let down? 

Virgil’s breath is coming out in uneven gasps, his heart is palpitating dangerously. He really shouldn’t be alone, he should go out and- no, no, no. His skin is too tight, his head is too small, and his hands are pressing bruises into his arms, he is holding them so tight. What is he supposed to do again? When his thoughts get too big for his mind and he feels like fainting, feels like how he was when he was younger and like his heart could just give out any minute and the next time he blinked open his eyes he’d be on a hospital bed. 

His hazy, anxiety-filled mind vaguely recalls a conversation he had with Logan  once, after he had pulled him back from an attack in the workplace (he mixed up two patients and fell apart in an empty room) that he should… he should ask for help. Call me, he had said, no matter the time. Just call me for help, and I’ll talk it out with you. 

Logan is on speedial, Logan, Logan can help- with shaking fingers, Virgil can just make out the emergency phone button on his cell to call Logan. 

The ringing of the phone helps station Virgil, stations him better than the pain in his hands. It picks up on the fifth ring. 

“Hello, Doctor Logan Berry speaking.” 

“Logan,” Virgil’s voice sounds so fucking raspy and teary, sounds so horrendously uncertain, “You- you said to call, and- if you’re busy just hang up, it’s fine you don’t have to worry, actually this was a bad idea, I’m going to hang up-” 

“You will do no such thing, Virgil. Stay on the line with me. Scale of one to ten, how bad?” 

“I- uh, I dunno, probably like- like a seven? I messed everything up, Lo, I- fuck, I can’t do anything right-” 

“Well, that is one foul-tempered lie. Let’s calm down first, yes, and then you’ll tell me all about what happened. I’m sure it’s better than it seems,” Janus’s voice, even hindered through the phone, forces Virgil to relax. He had no idea that Janus could hear, but apparently they’re together. His mind recalls lamely that tonight is when they get together to go over payments and make sure everything is in order. A part of him is glad that Janus can hear; He’s like a hypnotist with his voice, a snake. Virgil nods, then another wave of idiocy flows through him because it’s over the phone. 

“Okay, Virgil, now exhale through your mouth. I want to hear it through the telephone,” Logan instructs, no nonsense. 

Virgil shakily breathes out. 

“Good. Now close your mouth and inhale quietly through your nose. I’m going to count to four, alright?” 

“O-okay,” Virgil complies, breathing it in. Janus counts him off rhythmically over the phone: Logan’s on the right and Janus on the left, and the result is relaxing. 

“Hold your breath now for seven seconds. I’ll count for you once more.” Janus-

“Exhale again, for a total of eight seconds. Here we go-” Logan- 

“Exceptional work, darling. You’re doing so well. Let’s repeat the process a few more times, how does that sound?” Janus-

Holy hell, do they make a good team. 

And just like that, Virgil feels better. His chest eases, his mind soothes, and he’s no longer shaking. 

“Thank you, both of you. That was- it was really fucking helpful. I don’t know what would happen if I was here alone,” 

“If you don’t mind me asking… where is here?” Logan asks, dry and with no sense of privacy whatsoever. 

“I’m at a bar with Roman. He- he invited me, because he wanted backup, and I made a total fool of myself. I got all aggressive on this guy who did nothing wrong,” 

“Aha, jealous?” There’s a sound of Janus wrestling the phone from Logan, much to his displeasure, “Just finish this weeks, Berry-” is heard through the phone. 

“Maybe… hey, wait a second! Who told you-” 

“I’m not blind, Virgil. Nor stupid. Don’t even try that on me. It might work on the nerd, and even Remus and Patton, but unlike them, I’m not clueless,” 

Virgil pouts, grunting softly. Is he really that obvious? 

“Whatever! And now… I’ve got no chance with him. I don’t know why I even came here, anyone could see that it was a stupid idea.” 

“No- well, yes, this was very stupid and most likely going to end in strife, but you still certainly have a chance! Remember, this is Roman we’re talking about: he’s a carousel when it comes to men, always changing.” 

“That’s part of the issue, Jan- where am I? I’ll be left behind, and have to watch as he finds a another and another and another-” 

“You’re starting to panic again, Virgil. Calm yourself. And I know that won’t happen.” 

“How?”

“You’re more perceptive, attentive, and caring than any of those guys will ever be. Roman would be even more of an idiot than either of us could possibly imagine if he were to let you go. Again, I am not blind: I see how good you are with the patients. You are careful and thoughtful. Despite how you might see yourself, Virgil, you are a good person. A wonderful person, who makes mistakes, but always fixes them. You do not leave them behind you. You feel empathy, and guilt, two very humane things, and you remedy your problems. That’s what happened with me, wasn’t it?” 

“Yeah… I guess, I guess you’re right,” Virgil’s blushing again. It’s true, that he doesn't like to leave things unsaid or unfinished: it makes him terribly worried, and the only solution he’s found is confronting them head on. Janus and Virgil had met long ago, when they were both younger: Janus had just started medical practices, and done work for Virgil. It ultimately failed and hurt Virgil more, which sparked deep hatred on Virgil’s side and a continued regret on Janus’s. They eventually reconciled, reuniting later when Virgil started out as a nurse, and everything had become much better. 

“Now, get back out there, darling. You’ll do great.” 

“...Thanks, Janus,” 

“Anytime,” and with that, Janus hangs up the phone to return to Logan. Virgil sighs to himself, and exits the stall: in the mirror, he sees his makeup all ruined. He washes it off, cleans his hoodie (which is relatively drier now) and ends up taking off the damp shirt as well. Thank goodness he’s wearing an undershirt: walking out topless seems hellish, and this only slightly better. 

It’s been a while since Virgil has gone anywhere without his hoodie on or makeup. He barely recognizes himself, and he sees this face every morning. But… it’ll be what it’ll be. Checking his phone, Virgil realizes that he’s been in the bathroom for… nearly two hours? 

Oh my god, I hope Roman hasn’t left yet-  Virgil flies out of the bathroom, holding his damp dress shirt and beloved hoodie in one crooked arm. Scanning the room, he notices Roman sitting at one of the small square tables watching some guy sing “Mad World” somewhat decently. Virgil sighs in relief, and walks over and sits right in front of him. 

“Princey, thank god you’re still here. I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” Virgil says, his voice softer than usual from all the crying. Roman looks at him, a smile curving on his features. 

“Hello there, you’re- you’re pretty,” Roman slurs slightly mid sentence, and Virgil gapes. Roman is drunk. Very drunk. So drunk, that he doesn’t recognize Virgil without his makeup and hoodie. While Virgil stares openmouthed, Roman reaches over and squeezes his bicep. “Ooh, you’re so strong too! Pretty face, and a hot body-” 

“Roman, you seriously don’t recognize me? Honest to god?” Virgil insists. Roman blinks slowly, but there’s no spark. Roman seriously has no idea, Virgil’s a stranger. 

He should probably bring him home. 

Or… he can start over. Roman won’t remember it anyway: this might be his only chance. 

“I think I’d remember such a handsome prince” Roman huffs. Virgil, unsurprisingly, blushes. 

“That’s very kind of you. You don’t look half bad yourself,” Virgil purrs. 

“Oh- you’re a flirt too! I like you,” Roman smiles widely, “Do you want to get another drink?” 

“I think you’ve had enough… do you want to go up and sing instead?” Virgil suggests, scooching closer to Roman. Touching his clothed shoulder, he feels how warm Roman is. Roman snuggles up to Virgil just a tad- he’s over affectionate, and with no filter, and no sense. It’s adorable, and Virgil is glad he got here when he did, because who knows who would take advantage of this cuddly child-like man? 

Now he understands why Roman needs a drinking buddy. 

“I love singing, I’m very good at it. I like Disney too. Do you like Disney?” 

“Yes, I like Disney,” Virgil snorts. They’ve had this debate over and over: the both of them like the franchise, though Virgil sees the darker bits that Roman tends to ignore. 

“You wanna- you wanna sing Love is an Open Door with me? I like that song, it’s a good song-” Roman rambles, looking excited. Virgil hates public speaking, let alone public speaking, but… he doesn’t know anyone here, what’s the issue? 

“That sounds good. Let’s go sign up, shall we?” Virgil suggests, Roman excitedly clinging to Virgil’s arm. 

“You’re so cold, it’s so nice,” Roman murmurs, rubbing his face on Virgil’s bare shoulder. Virgil can’t help but smile: his heart is beating fast, but in a fantastic way. Vincent doubletakes as they make it to the bar. 

“Hey you two- heading home? Ro looks pretty slammed…” 

“I’ll take him home in a bit. He wants to do one more song,” Virgil explains. Roman giggles, and Virgil’s heart does another flip. His smile widens. 

“Ah, sorry folks- Roman can’t do another one. He’s already exhausted the limit of five: you should have heard him sing some of those. An undercover celebrity, he is,” Vincent reaches over and mussies Roman’s hair, to which Virgil slaps his hand away. 

“Princey, did you hear? You can’t sing another one,” Virgil tells him, his voice still soft.

“Aww, really? I wanna- I wanna sing some ‘ore,” Roman pouts, his lower lips trembling. Virgil kisses his cheek, just a peck really, that’s all he can manage without exploding. Roman turns on a dime, sadness morphing to elation all at once. He leans in for another, to which Virgil declines, pushing him away with a palm. 

“Hey, how about I sing a song for you, huh? How does that sound?” Virgil asks, nervous beyond anything at singing in front of all these people, but Roman seems so ecstatic at the thought that Virgil knows he’ll be going through with it. 

“You sing? But you just-” gawks Vincent. Virgil glares at him. 

“Don’t act so surprised. And yes, I do. Just didn’t feel like saying it. Totally. When do I go up?” 

“After this guy,” Vincent points at the person going on stage, and Virgil steels himself for this experience. It’s okay, you’re the only one who’ll remember. It’ll be fine. Virgil starts walking closer to the stage, Roman hanging on him still. “Hey, dude, are you going to tell me what you’re singing? I’ll set it up for you,” 

“I got it. We’re good, right Princey?” 

“I’m so good, I’m the best, you’re so nice, gonna sing a song for me-” Roman rambles. Virgil shakes his head good-humoredly, adoring this side of him. Not suave or fanciful at all: only cute. They come to a table right by the stage, miraculously empty and clean. 

“Okay, Ro, you wanna sit here and watch?” Roman smiles, nodding quickly, and plops down in one of the chairs. Virgil goes beside him, fanning his confidence by reaching for his large hand. Just like in the car, Roman takes it and squeezes. 

“I’m so moved, you’re going to sing something for me! So romantic!” Roman gushes. Virgil blushes, rubbing his thumb on Roman’s sun-kissed hand. 

“I’ll sing it just for you: you know, I really don’t like public speaking. Or any of this stuff… but you’re not going to remember me, so I don’t think it’ll matter. I really really like you, Roman. I’ve known you for a while, so it wasn’t all at once, but you tease me with all of your flirty winks and tell me about how much you get around and today, calling me pretty- you’re destroying me, and you don’t even notice. You never do, and- Janus said that I’d be good for you. Grounding. A good boyfriend. I don’t know what he sees in me, but clearly you don’t see that. You like- you like grand gestures, romance, and flirting… I can’t do any of that. Except for today, when I’m not nervous anymore, because you’re never going to remember this whole thing. It’ll just be for me. Just for me to remember, for you to enjoy now. You’ll never know how much I love you anyway, so it’s just for me. Just for poor heartsick Virgil,” Virgil tells him, under the lights and despite the singing in the background. Roman blinks a few times, not understanding. 

“I- uhm… I don’t understand, whadda ya mean?” Roman squints at him. Virgil sighs, presses their foreheads together and gets up. 

“Doesn’t matter. I only want to say… whatever, it doesn’t matter. It’s my turn to go,” and Virgil pulls away, waving slightly to the confused man, and hunches his shoulders to make him look small as he walks to the center of the stage. Scrolling through the music (it operates sort of like a karaoke machine), Virgil selects a song he knows. 

Virgil doesn’t particularly like his singing voice: his mother loves it, would sing along with him during Nightmare Before Christmas, and told him it was very nice. It’s kind of low, gentle, and the words flow into the next. 

“The dawn is breaking, a light shining through… you’re barely waking, and I’m tangled up in you,” Virgil sings quietly. It’s awkward, and he can’t look out into the audience at all, and he hears them ignore him. He takes a deep breath, and continues. “I’m open, you’re closed. Where I follow, you’ll go. I worry I won’t see your face light up again,” 

People are starting to notice Virgil, as his voice rises, and it’s frightening but also exhilarating. He refuses to make eye-contact with them, unlike Roman who always does, and speaking of him- it’s very clear that Roman’s watching, enraptured. Virgil can practically feel it. 

“Even the best fall down sometimes, even the wrong words seem to rhyme- Out of the doubt that fills my mind, I somehow find you and I, collide,” Someone in the crowd whistles, causing Virgil to struggle a bit, but he picks it up right after. He’s imagining that it’s only him and Missy and- Roman. Virgil glances up at Roman barely: he’s awestruck, and it fills Virgil’s heart with glee. 

“I’m quiet you know.You make a first impression. But I’ve found I’m scared to know you’re always on my mind,” Virgil messes up the lyrics a bit, but no one notices at all. They’re cheering him on, listening attentively- it helps him go on, return his gaze to the floor. 

“Even the best fall down sometimes, even the stars refuse to shine, out of the back you fall in time, somehow find, you and I- collide,” Virgil’s voice is still quiet: even as his confidence rises, he can’t seem to raise it at all. 

“Don’t stop here. I’ve lost my place. I’m close behind,” Virgil used to sing this song with his parents, when he was young: his mother and father would sing and dance with him. It has sentimental value, it reminds him of childhood and pain and love and survival. They used to sing it to him, comforting him with the words. He knows every one. 

“Even the best fall down sometimes. Even the wrong words seem to rhyme. Out of the doubt that fills your mind, you finally find that you and I collide. Finally find that you and I collide. You finally find you and I collide,” the music plays for a while longer, with Virgil humming along rhythmically. When it finally fades out, Virgil scurries off the stage to thunderous applause. It is way too much attention, all at once. On his way, he grabs Roman’s sleeve, dragging him out as people fawn. As they rapidly exit, Vincent calls out from the bar. 

“Hey, grump- I don’t sing, my ass! You sing gorgeous! Come back anytime, with or without Roman!” Virgil glares at him, and then he’s out into the parking lot. 

“Phew- that was- oh my god, that was exhilarating. Roman? What did… what did you mmfp-” Virgil was smiling until he was cut off by Roman’s lips on his. Virgil moans into it: it’s more decadent than he could have ever imagined. Roman’s lips are deceptively soft and taste like strawberries. He finally moves back for air, and Virgil leans against the car, holding his mouth. Did… did that just happen? It takes a second to register that a) Roman kissed him, and b) that it doesn’t matter because he’s not in his right mind. It’s worth nothing beyond right now… but it means so so much. Virgil will remember this for the rest of his godforsaken life. 

“Ro-Roman, what was that for?” Virgil murmurs, touching his lips addictively. 

“You’re the kindest guy I’ve ever met. God, I want to take you home. Handsome, and sweet, and caring and a voice of an angel. I wish I met you forever ago,” Roman says, approaching closer to Virgil until he’s pressed up against the car and can feel Roman’s warmth, “Fuck… I don’t even know your name, but you’re… you’re magic,” 

“You’re making me seem better than I am, really,” Virgil flushes, feeling all sorts of fuzzy feelings. Roman chuckles, coming in closer to lean his head on Virgil’s shoulders. 

“I don’t… I don’t think I am, beautiful… I just- I don’t want to go home alone tonight. I’m so freaking lonely, all the goddamn time. So lonely… it’s only me, and no one really cares, when it comes down to it,” Roman sighs, on the verge of tears. Virgil is dumbfounded: who would have thought? Roman, the Prince of Theatre, who sings songs to children and flirts easily, and never is by himself because he’s a magnet for conversation… is lonely. 

“Maybe we can be lonely together,” Virgil whispers aloud, meaning it to be internal but slipping out anyway. 

“Can… can we?” Roman pleads, “Please?” Virgil exhales: he’s so cute. Remember though- he’s not going to recall any of this. It hurts, all of a sudden, that Virgil is at once Roman’s world and at the same time an illusion. 

“Alright, alright. We’ll see,” Virgil smiles at him. Roman leans down for another kiss, and now Virgil lets him. What’s the harm? I’m the only one who will hurt. I can take it. “I should take you home now, huh? You can’t drive, you’re drunk,” 

“Pfft- I am not-” 

“You are,” Virgil rolls his eyes, unlocking his car, “Now get in.” Roman shuffles his feet around. Virgil glares. 

“In the car, Princey, you have to go home now,” he demands. Roman frowns, looks away stubbornly. And, just like a puppy, he’s adorable but persistent as all hell. Roman murmurs something under his breath, inaudible. Glancing at him kinder, Virgil asks him to speak up. 

“I don’t wanna go home, I wanna stay with you,” Roman mumbles, slightly louder. And, Virgil is struck right in the heart. My god, is it even legal to be that cute? Virgil sighs: he should bring Roman to his house, that’s what he had asked before he was intoxicated, and he definitely can’t take advantage of him, but… those eyes are begging for him to stay with him. He can’t refuse. 

“Okay, okay, you win. It’s going to be impossible to explain this to you in the morning, but whatever! I’ll drive you to my house,” Virgil agrees, and the look of pure elation on Roman’s face is more than reward enough. Though Virgil has to help Roman’s wobby body into the passenger seat and buckle him up, he can’t stop smiling. 

Even as he starts the car to drive it home. 

Even as Roman says he’s going to be sick. 

Even as he has to rush Roman upstairs to his apartment before he pukes all over the place, Virgil is happy. 

Roman hugs Virgil’s middle after he cleans him up. Missy and Roman get along swimmingly, Virgil offering to let him hold her, and Roman enraptured by her. He’s enthralled by Virgil lending him a toothbrush, seemingly blessed by the offering of a piece of toast to calm his stomach at the small kitchen bar. Roman stares at it, sitting on one of the stools. 

“Why are you so nice to me?” he wonders. Virgil frowns. Are people usually unkind to you? 

“This is normal, Princey. People are supposed to look out for one another,” 

“Oh. Yeah,” Roman says to himself. Virgil can’t hold back from reaching over and kissing his forehead. 

“Anytime you need, I’ll be nice to you. I don’t mean to be so prickly: it’s a defense mechanism. You only have to tell me you’d like some care, and I’ll give you everything,” Virgil tells him. This charming man, he hiccups and his eyes water as he blubbers. Virgil is good with a lot of things: crying crushes are not one of them. “Hey, no crying, don’t cry! Let’s go to bed, huh? Yeah, that sounds nice, doesn’t it?” 

Roman makes a pitiful little nod, and Virgil leads him to the bedroom. There’s only one… so either they share, or Virgil’s going to the couch. So, he tucks Roman into the warm black duvet and brushes his forehead as a way of good night. As he goes to leave, Roman grabs onto his arm. 

“Stay with me? Please?”

“Ro, I don’t- I don’t think this is a good idea, buddy. No, it’s really not a good idea,” his heartbeat is picking up again, and Virgil bites his lip nervously. Roman ignores it, pulls his hand to kiss it. 

“Stay with me, princess,” he purrs. Are you trying to kill me? Roman’s too attractive, too flirtatious. And Virgil’s too head over heels to say no. And that’s how he finds himself sharing his bed with Roman King. 

Who fell asleep almost immediately, and snuggled up right into Virgil’s side. So close, that there is a permanent blush on Virgil’s face and his breath on his neck. Okay, this is not going to work. I’m never going to get to sleep if this goes on. Fuck. 

Virgil shuffles away, attempting to get out of bed and go sleep on the couch, but Roman slings and arm over him and growls “Stay”. 

Well, can’t argue with that, now can I? 

~~~~~~

When morning filters through the window, Roman blinks awake. Jiminy Cricket, does his head hurt. Ugh, what happened last night? This isn’t his bed: it’s not colourful at all, all blacks and purples. For goodness sakes, the curtains that are blocking most of the sun have spiders on it. Roman rubs his eyes: did he go home with someone? He must’ve. But who? Roman can’t really recall: he doesn’t remember talking to anyone. After Virgil ran out to the bathroom, Roman just wanted to drink and be alone. Anyone who approached him was turned away instantly by one of his cold stares. 

He couldn’t help but feel as though it was sort of his fault: he said he’d be with him. That Roman would leave Virgil alone. And yet… he was in the bathroom for two hours, and not once did Roman gather the courage to go and check on him. And then what? Then he went to some strangers home and left Virgil? 

What kind of asshole would do that to someone? Virgil, despite how he acts, is amazingly perceptive. He can tell when something is wrong, it’s why he’s so good as a nurse… he’s just genuinely a good person. And Roman left him? 

He can’t imagine he’d do that to the emo, even drunk. He wouldn’t be able to forget Virgil, would he? 

No, he really has no clue. 

Think, Roman, think- he presses his hands to his pounding head, as if it would squeeze out a memory. All that happens is scraps of a song. Oh great, not only do I have no idea where I am but now there’s a song stuck in my head. Wonderful. 

“Even the best fall down sometimes, even the wrong words seem to rhyme-” he murmurs under his breath. Then an image follows right after: a man, holding onto the microphone at the bar, singing the words so soft, so sweetly. It makes his heart pang, it’s so lovely. Is that the guy I went home with? Roman thinks to himself. He focuses harder on the memory. The man, he looks up shyly, nervously, and meets eyes with Roman. 

God, he’s fucking beautiful. Love at first sight? Maybe not, but whatever this is, it’s as close to that as it could possibly be. It makes Roman feel all warm and bubbly inside. He bites his lip and looks at the ceiling of this stranger’s bed. Things come back in bits and pieces all out of order; kissing that man by a car, his car- that man laughing at him as he gawks at his, what is that, a spider?- the man sitting at a table in the bar right next to him, letting him nuzzle his shoulder (embarrassing, it makes Roman blush he was so mushy)- a kiss to his forehead to calm him, wiping away drunken tears ever so gently. His hands felt baby-soft, despite the obvious muscular frame he sported. 

Who is he…? 

“I’ll sing it just for you: you know, I really don’t like public speaking…” in his mind, this man’s voice follows: it’s soft, muted a touch. Focus now, Roman, you’ve almost got it- 

“You’re not going to remember me, so I don’t think it’ll matter…” Of course it matters! I’m not a blackout drunk! Roman wants to scream. 

“I really really like you, Roman,” his voice, saying such kind words, is like what he’d imagine an angel would sound like. Or some sweet interaction that only comes between A-List celebrities in a scripted movie. 

“I’ve known you for a while…”  Okay, finally, getting somewhere. He knows him? Does he do tech at the theatre or something? It’s a possibility. 

“You’re destroying me, and you don’t even notice…” Well, that’s harsh. Kind makes him feel guilty: this gorgeous meal of a man was lusting over him, and he didn’t even notice? What kind of idiot- 

“Janus said that I’d be good for you. Grounding. A good boyfriend…” So he knows the snakey doctor. That can either be very good or very bad: is this fellow a sleazeball? No, Roman assures himself blushing heavily, He’s too sweet to do that. Too kind and loving. Did you see him sing that song? Just for you too- and he looked so nervous! Precious!! 

“I don’t know what he sees in me, but clearly you don’t see that…” Roman wants to pull his hair out. Did Roman say or do something wrong? Did he ruin his chances with this Adonis, because if he did, he’ll be furious. 

“You like grand gestures, romance, and flirting… I can’t do any of that,” I don’t care! I don’t care about any of that! I just want someone to hold my hand and not treat me like shit! Just a sweet cute guy! 

“I’m not nervous anymore, because you’re never going to remember this whole thing,” Ah, sorry to break it to you, but hey, I’m remembering! And I’m going to track you down! 

“You’ll never know how much I love you anyway, so it’s just for me…” he sounds melancholy, so very sad, and Roman wants to hold him. Hold him and kiss the top of his head and make him feel better. This person, he doesn’t deserve to be ignored. Why was Roman ever- 

“Just for poor heartsick Virgil,” Roman’s mouth runs dry. Virgil? Virgil. He- the man he went with- Virgil. Virgil was singing to him, with that angelic voice, Virgil drove him to his house because he didn’t want to leave him alone and every other little wonderful thing, the forehead kisses and the smiles and the hands- oh my stars, I am an imbecile. 

How didn’t he notice? How Virgil would bite back at him whenever he flirted with him teasingly, how Virgil wilted whenever Roman talked about his relationships, how careful and thoughtful he was with every move, hell, he even agreed to go out to the bar with him to find some other guy because he was worried for Roman’s safety. 

How was I so blind that I missed the perfect man right in front of my eyes? 

And this… this must be Virgil’s house. It’s… very Virgil. Is that a Nightmare Before Christmas poster? Yes, it is- how wonderful. How him. 

How didn’t Roman notice? It’s that classic blunder, unseeing of the person right in front of him. How did he not see how romantic Virgil is? Little gestures, smart moves, kindness. Thoughtful. He had said that he wasn’t a romantic, but by Jove- he’s sweet. His mind can’t stop repeating Virgil’s soft singing and his gentleness. God, it’s so beautiful it’s painful. He should tell him to go without makeup more often. And a shirt. Yes, without a shirt sounds good. Undercover buff, much?

His mind swirls with the knowledge of Virgil. 

Oh shit- how is he going to face Virgil now? He’s in his house, he’s most likely in the living room: should he just pretend like he doesn’t remember? 

Roman’s a good actor, he could pull it off: but Virgil would still be wanting and lonesome. And Roman would know, and that hurts. He won’t do that to him, not anymore. 

He should just come out, say that he remembers and... ask him out on a date. A proper one. They both have the day off today, it could be now! 

They’d do Virgil things, things that make the emo happy, maybe a zoo or watch movies or coffee shops or whatever. And... Roman will hold his hand, hold him, and hold him and hold him. Yes, yes, this is good. 

Roman wishes he had more time to plan. Time to get flowers, or chocolates or anything, really. Wait, you don’t even know if he’ll say yes! Maybe he’s so embarrassed by the whole interaction that- 

Wait. 

Is that pancakes? 

Roman sniffs at the air: yes, it is. Blueberry ones, at that. And coffee. His stomach rumbles, and hunger is enough to spur him out of bed. His legs are wobbly, and his head is swimming, but he makes it out of the room eventually. 

“Oh hey, Princey, finally decide to wake from your endless slumber, huh?” Virgil teases. His makeup has returned, as usual. He’s wearing another hoodie, a black one, and it’s hanging off his shoulders as he flips pancakes. Roman’s mouth runs dry. “Also, umm, sorry about not taking you to your apartment. I didn’t want to leave you alone.” 

“Oh... it’s fine,” Roman sounds odd, even to himself, and Virgil gives him a skeptical look. “Heh, anyone who makes me good morning pancakes is alright in my book!” 

Virgil snorts, and pushes a plate over the kitchen bar for Roman to sit and eat. 

“How’s your head? What do you- you know, never mind,” Virgil ducks his head into the fridge to receive some maple syrup, “You like it warmed?” 

“Uh... if it isn’t an issue,” Virgil casts another weird look to Roman: is he being too nice? Roman can’t help it, how could he be rude? He puts his syrup in the microwave, with the long pale fingers. 

 “I uh- Virgil,” Roman starts, more nervous than anything, “Oh fuck, this is hard but- I uh-” 

“You’re making me worried, Princey, spit it out or shut up and eat my food,” Virgil glares. Roman gulps. It’s like a bandaid, rip it off, come on, just spit it out- 

“I REMEMBER! I remember everything, I always do after I’m drunk, it’s why I get a buddy, because I always remember in the morning and I hate what I’m like when I’m intoxicated, because I always remember, I think I’ve said that a few times- uh, Virgil, are you okay?” Roman finally looks up at Virgil- or rather down, as the man has crumpled to the floor in a heap. Has he fainted? Roman gets up and squats next to him. 

“Virgil?” he whispers into his ear, poking at him. Virgil jolts up, narrowly missing a collision with Roman’s head as he sits up straight. He groans, and puts his head in his hands to try and hide his full-faced blush. 

“Fuck, I’m such an idiot, oh my god, I’ve made a total fool of myself- oh god, please just leave me alone to die, Roman, just go,” he yells. Roman chuckles, and peels Virgil’s hands from his face. He seems about to cry, moisture glistening at his eyes. Roman’s heart can’t take it: he thinks he looks foolish? No, never. 

Roman kisses the corners of his eyes. 

“You’re not an idiot, you’re most certainly not a fool. I’m sorry I didn’t notice you before at the office. I’m the only idiot between the two of us, because I didn’t see how wonderful you were until you had to be blatant about it. I’m so very sorry, and in your debt. I feel silly to even try and ask, but would you… perchance, want a real date? One where I’m not flirting with other people- only with you, you Incredible Sulk,” Roman consoles Virgil pulling him into an embrace. 

“Really?” Virgil asks. 

“Honestly,” 

“Then yeah, yeah, that sounds okay. I uh… I don’t do a whole lot so-” Roman cuts Virgil off by pressing his finger to his lips. Virgil raises his eyebrows. 

“How’s right this second sound?”

“Yeah- uhm, that works for me-”

“Fantastic! And I believe your pancakes are burning,” Roman notes, laughing as Virgil shoots up cursing colourfully as he discards a very black pancake. Even as the man squawks and yells and forces Roman back into his seat, he can’t help but feel fulfilled. After the pancake fiasco is remedied, Virgil breathes a sigh of relief and smiles at Roman. 

“Sorry about that, Princey,” 

“Hey, it’s no problem for me! Kind of entertaining, actually,” Roman snickers, earning him a slap upside the head. And then, just to push Virgil’s buttons, he snakes his hand through his dark locks and kisses him deeply over the counter. It’s a knee-shaking kiss, a heart-stopper, a signature Roman smooch. One he should’ve given Virgil last night, but was too drunk to make happen. It seems like Virgil likes it too, if the noises are any indication. Virgil is the first to pull back for air, and presses his chest, gasping. 

“Oh my goodness, was that too much? Are you okay, Virgil?” Roman frets. Virgil, he recalls, has some sort of horrible cocktail of medical issues. Most he’s grown out of, but the effects still linger. 

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s cool. Hah, my heart’s still beating. It’s stopped once before, and I have a defibrillator in my room but- I’m okay. I guess that just means I’m fragile, right? Gotta be careful with my heart, both ways, alright?” A still beating heart. How romantic, how delightful. 

“Now you must stay with me, so I can restart your heart whenever it’s required!” Roman announces. Virgil rolls his eyes and scoffs, despite his small smile, then returns to finishing off the end of his pancake batter. Roman pokes his bicep, his deceptively strong bicep, to pester him into an answer. Virgil catches it, squeezes. 

“Hey! My heart’s still beating, you’re going to have to try harder,” he teases. It has to be the most lovely seductive challenge he’s ever been issued. And you said you weren’t a romantic. 

His heart still beats, and it beats just as hard for Roman as the other way around. 

How positively lovely. 

~~~~

And from that day on, the entire pediatric office would all go out once a month to a particular bar’s karaoke night, and Roman and Virgil would sing many songs but always one. They always sang one at the end, and it was so beautiful that people cry every time. It’s longing and love and acceptance. 

They like to hold hands while they do it, perhaps to show off their relationship… or maybe just the matching rings that adorn their fingers. 

~~~~~

The End! Thanks for reading! 

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[adiwriting]

Sunday Mornings 6/?

Notes: Because I feel like these two fluff muffins would playfully bicker about whose more romantic, but they certainly would be competitive with other couples... Shout out to @cosmicclownboy​ for the inspiration. 

Week 6: 

If Michael is being honest, he wasn’t sold on the idea at first. When Alex had woken him up at 5am, telling him to grab his shoes and meet him at the car, Michael hadn’t been thrilled. After all, 5am is incredibly early for his day off and he’d been really looking forward to sleeping in. But now that they have arrived, Michael has to admit, he’s coming around. 

After all, being driven out to the middle of the desert, to the same spot that they used to come to when they were kids, just to watch the sunrise together? It’s a pretty smooth move. A move made even more romantic when Alex reveals that he’s packed breakfast for the two of them. 

Michael pulls down the tailgate as Alex grabs a blanket to spread out over the bed of the truck. Just like old times. 

“You know, you don’t have to work so hard to get laid,” he teases as he helps Alex climb into the back. He’s careful to send him a wink though to let him know that he very much appreciates the effort. 

“You’re welcome.” His smile is big and unguarded. It has Michael rocking back on his heels. 

Fuck. He’s seriously the most attractive person in the entire world. Looking at him when he’s like this always catches Michael’s breath. He still doesn’t understand how he’s finally being allowed this after all the shit he’s done, but he’s not going to fight it. 

Michael shakes his head clear and crawls up after him. Alex is already lounging attractively, arms open, inviting Michael to join him. He wastes no time snuggling up beside him. They lay there like that, Michael with his head on Alex’s shoulder, staring up at the few remaining stars they can still see as the sky turns a light blue. Sunrise is nearing. 

“Did I miss an anniversary or something?” Michael asks after several minutes. 

“Can’t I just want to do something romantic for my boyfriend?” Alex asks. 

Michael rolls onto his stomach and puts his arms on Alex’s chest before resting his head against them. “You can. I was just curious what inspired this?” 

“It’s nothing,” Alex says in a way that means it’s most certainly something. Michael stares at him until he continues. “It’s just something stupid Rameriz said to me the other day.” 

“Rameriz? That douchey sergeant who works the gate?” 

Alex nods. 

“What the fuck did he have to say?” Michael asks, silently thinking that whatever it was, he probably still owes him a beer for getting Alex to plan all of this. 

“He was talking to the guys, trying to get advice for this romantic anniversary he’s planning, and then made a joke that I didn’t have to worry about that stuff because I’m dating a guy,” Alex said. “I don’t know, it’s stupid. But it annoyed me.” 

Michael sits up. “What because we’re two dudes, we can’t be romantic?” 

Alex sits up to join him. “Apparently,” he says with a deep sigh. 

Alex rolls his eyes and Michael finds he’s just as annoyed. “Did you tell him that we’re like romance goals?” 

Alex snorts. “Romance goals?” He quirks his eyebrow at Michael, teasing him and damn, Michael just wants to tackle him and have his way with him… but that will have to wait. 

“I don’t know,” he says, ducking his head to hide a blush. “That’s what Isobel calls us.” 

“Good,” Alex replies, and Michael looks up to see him puffing out his chest a bit. “I’m glad somebody appreciates a decent love story.” 

“Decent?” Michael scoffs. “What happened to cosmic?” 

“I just… If I have to hear about Liz and Max and their stupid handprint story one more time, I’m going to scream,” Alex says.

Michael is about to agree, because he has noticed that Max has a tendency to talk about his relationship like it’s the end all and be all. As if he’s the only one that found his soulmate in high school and spent ten years pining… Then Alex’s words click. 

“Do you want a handprint?” he asks, seriously. 

“No,” Alex says instantly then pauses, actually thinking about it. The tension in his body relaxes and he reaches out for Michael’s hands. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean that,” he says much softer this time. “If you ever decided that was something that you wanted to share with me, I would 100% welcome your handprint on me. Because there’s not a single part of you that I don’t welcome. What I meant was… I don’t need it. We fell in love without all of that. When Liz or Max tell me that story, I don’t get jealous, because I know and see all of you without any handprint. And I know you see me too.” 

Michael smiles at that. He feels the same way. He’s sure one day, he’ll try it with Alex just to see how it feels. But the truth is, he’s never done it with Alex because it always seemed like a crutch. Max used his handprint with Liz to show her how he felt about her because he couldn’t say the words. Most of his problems with Alex have stemmed from an inability to communicate, and if he wants this to work, he’s determined not to take any shortcuts. 

“You know, Max is always asking Isobel how to win back Liz,” Michael explains. “I’ll be sitting right there and he won’t even think to ask me about it, even though, between Iz and I, I’m clearly more likely to have advice on winning back your soulmate after you’ve messed up.” 

“That’s because everyone thinks all we do is fuck,” he says, dragging over the cooler he’d packed to start pulling food out. 

“I mean, we do fuck a lot… but that’s not all we do,” Michael argues. 

“Yeah, I don’t think they believe either of us can be romantic though,” he says. “They look at us and see a repressed airman and…” Alex waves his hand over Michael, searching for the right word to describe Michael. 

“Sex god?” Michael teases, earning him a shocked laugh. 

“I was gonna go with emotionally stunted cowboy with too much swagger, but that comment probably says enough.” Alex glares at him playfully.  

Over Alex’s shoulder, Michael catches the first glimpse of sunrise as the horizon lights up a bright orange. Michael nods towards it. “We gonna watch this thing?” 

Alex spins around on the spot to face the sunrise and Michael pulls Alex back against his chest and hugs him from behind, hooking his chin over his shoulder. 

“Anyone that thinks you can’t do romance, is an idiot,” Michael tells him, kissing the side of his neck as the sun slowly paints the sky vivid shades of red and orange, making Alex’s skin just glow. 

Alex smiles at him over his shoulder before turning back around, resting his head against Michael’s shoulder. 

“This may be more romantic than the first time you took me to look at the stars when we were kids.” Michael doesn’t need to see Alex’s face to know that he’s looking smug. 

“Mmmm,” he hums in agreement. He may find Alex’s confidence sexy as hell, but he certainly can’t allow it. Because this morning has been pretty impressive, but Michael has had some pretty smooth moments himself. 

“Well it’s more romantic than me taking you to see the stars, but less romantic than when I surprised you at the airport after your first tour,” he points out, playfully pinching Alex’s side, earning him a laugh. 

“I’ll take your airport surprise and raise you a love note slipped into your wallet before my second tour,” Alex says. 

And, yeah. That’s fair. It had taken Michael a few days to find it once Alex had left, but damn… It had been a hell of a note. Michael still has it in his wallet to this day. Those ten years hadn’t been great, but that doesn’t mean that they haven’t had some truly brilliant moments. 

“No no no. See, I bought an airstream so you could come home on leave and not have to see your father,” he argues, enjoying messing with Alex, mostly because Alex was always super competitive. “I win the romance game.” 

Alex scoffs. “You bought an airstream so you wouldn’t have to sleep in a truck.” 

“I bought an airstream so you wouldn’t have to sleep in my truck,” Michael says. 

Alex sits up and looks at him with narrowed eyes, trying to see if that’s the truth or not. Michael continues to smile at him, refusing to give anything away. Alex eventually huffs. 

“Let’s just agree that we’re both awesome,” he says, grabbing some of the fruit he’d packed before settling back in against Michael. 

“Is that Alex Manes for ‘fine you win?’” 

Alex laughs. “You’re a real jackass.” 

“Your jackass,” he says, stealing the strawberry from Alex’s hand and eating it himself. 

Alex huffs. “There’s literally more strawberries right next to you,” he complains. 

“It tastes better when it’s yours,” he says, repeating the same argument Alex always makes whenever he steals Michael’s coffee. Alex glares at him for a minute and Michael just smiles back sweetly until Alex’s face relaxes and he melts back into him. 

They sit there for several more minutes in silence as the sun seems to settle and the sky returns to a more natural blue, all traces of red and orange gone. Even then, Alex doesn’t move and Michael has no plans to make him. They eat their breakfast in comfortable silence, Michael stealing Alex’s food every so often and Alex randomly bringing their joined hands up to place kisses at the back of Michael’s hand. 

They have nowhere to be and no reason to rush. 

At some point Alex starts humming a song Michael doesn’t recognize, which probably means that it’s the secret song he’s been writing for the last week. The song that Michael isn’t allowed to ask about but will get to hear with everyone else at the next open mic night. 

If there is such a thing as a perfect moment, this is it. He suddenly feels the need to immortalize this morning, even though he really isn’t much of a ‘document the moment’ kind of guy. 

“Do you really wanna piss the heteros off?” Michael asks. 

“What?” Alex sounds resigned, but Michael knows him well enough to know that he’s already agreed without needing to hear whatever Michael is about to say, and he loves that about Alex. He reaches into his pocket and hands Alex his phone. 

Alex smiles at him in understanding, taking the phone from him. He types Michael’s password in and he opens up the camera app and holds it out in front of him, careful to include both of them in the frame as well as their picnic.

“Ready?” 

Michael nods and at the last second, as Alex is taking the photo, Michael kisses Alex’s cheek. 

And that’s how, twenty minutes later, they both end up updating their social media for the first time in over a year talking about love, surprises, and sunrise meals. #RelationshipGoals. 

Tagged: @callieramics​​

As always if anyone wants to be tagged, let me know!

[theficplug]

l Next Lifetime l Erik Killmonger l

previous chapters: l part 1 l

erik kilmonger x reader

warnings: none, but the usual 18+ for the eventual smut and a possible tw for grief but i promise it gets better and its a romcomsynopsis: reader grieves Erik until she doesn’t (i’m trying not give too much away). I really want to make it a series that i actually keep up with (sorry Girls Trip readers) because I have up to part 4 written. alright thats all i hope yall vibe with it. 

l part 2 l

“Yeah I do, I think that like if we want. We can come back as someone else or like maybe when we love someone really strongly and we have like soul ties we can come back to them in another life. But that’s just me. We could just be hitting the cha cha slide next to Father J.C.” Iridia explains and Tika shakes her head while laughing at her. 

“Personally, I don’t think so. I believe once our life Earthside is done we return to the cosmos to be a part of the stars that light up the night sky on our loved ones darkest nights. But why are we talking about this on your birthday? We are very much alive with much to celebrate miss thang. I’m ready to go!” Tika says to you as she grabs the car keys. 

“So I met someone while I was at the store and he invited all of us to a party at the Roller Rink but I gotta let you know it’s like crazy how eerily similar he looks to Erik.” you say to them and they both give each other a look before looking back at you.

“OH! Don’t give me that look! I know y’all probably think I’m losing it, but you know what they say everybody got a doppelganger somewhere. Anyways, I know it’s not exactly on our itinerary but I wanna go if y’all are down?” you ask them and they give a worried look before nodding and agreeing. 

“Hell yeah we’re in. I haven’t been to a skating rink since like 10th, maybe 11th grade? This should be fun to see if I got it or if I’m gonna buss my ass.” Tika says laughing.

The rest of the day was pretty easy breezy but you could not get over seeing him. Who’s possibly not him? In front of you. Happy and laughing and present. 

You tried to shake off the thoughts and feelings during brunch with your girls and for the rest of the day enjoying the street festival and winning a giant stuffed giraffe. Between the 3 of you, you won enough stuffed animals to fill the entire backseat of your car and eventually left the festival with a caricature drawing of the 3 of you.

Before you knew it, it was 6:40 and you and your girls were back at the beach house getting ready for the party. 

You searched around your suitcase for the outfits that Iridia had packed for you and settled on. 

You gave yourself a once over in the mirror and fluffed your fro a little before re-applying your lip gloss. 

“GIRL, YOU LOOK SO GOOD. What is going on?  You tryna get chose?” Tika asks standing in the doorway as she smiles at you with her ipod in one hand and a freeze-able daiquiri pouch in the other. 

You laugh as Tika glides around the room shaking her hips to the beat and doing a little roll as she saunters over to you to help you clasp your shirt in the back.

It’s safe to say that you haven’t been exactly up to your fashionably self for the past few months but Iri giving you options with the different pieces of clothing  that she bought you had you feeling like yourself again.

“Damn, I’m good.” Iri says while giving you a twirl and takes selfies with you and Tika.

You purse your lips and give your best smize towards her phone as she snaps a photo of you and for a moment things feel like they used to. 

“Just wanted to feel cute for once. I love this top and girl it got my titties SIT-TING.” you reply giggling and childishly nudging your girls before asking if they’re ready to go. 

You put the address into the gps and you were off on your way.You tried turning up the radio to drown out how loud your thoughts were going and in a million different directions.

 About 20 minutes later. You look out the window once arriving at the skating rink to see cars already filling the entire parking lot and you could see people laughing while holding onto each other as they skated their way inside. 

The music is already blaring and you could definitely tell that “Daka”’s friend is a party planner. The venue had some sort of projector or something set up so that the entire room seemed like it changed “worlds” with each song. There were multiple food stations, and a live DJ playing everything from 90s R&B to New Orleans bounce music and everything in between.

You and your girls quickly grabbed a pair of skates and looked around for N’Jadaka and sure enough within a few minutes he was grooving his way over to you this time dressed in a slightly opened printed shirt and light washed jeans. 

He skated around you with a big ass smile on his face. His golds were gleaming under the lights as it bounced off of the diamonds engrained in it. “YOU MADE IT! How y’all doing?” he asks your girls and they stand there gasping with their mouths wide open. 

“I mean he could be his goddamn identical twin. You were not lying! The only thing he’s missing are the scars and his dreads. God damn.” Tika was the first to speak before Iri introduced herself.

“Hey, Happy Birthday, I’m Iri. This is Tika’s rude self and you already met our boo.” Iri says pulling him in for a quick hug. 

“ I’m sorry, excuse us, you just look exactly like somebody we knew. Happy Birthday! It was his birthday too. It’s wild how people really do be having doppelgangers. Alright, so I’m gonna go try not to break my damn leg. Knowing I gotta go to work on Monday. Come on.” Tika says taking Iri by the hand and making her way onto the rink with her to give you and him some time alone. 

You shift your weight trying to keep yourself steady as you sway to music , knowing that he’s eyeing you up and down.

“Man must’ve been a hell of a person. I’m glad you came though. I didn’t think Orleans was gonna do all of this.” he says laughing and you can’t control the butterflies feelings like they were fluttering around your stomach. That’s his laugh.

“He was. To me at least, he was. Of course, I mean I haven’t been to a roller rink in forever and I really needed some time to just know what it’s like to be carefree again.” you admit and he nods along listening to your words.

He decided to save his comment on “he was” for later. Hoping that there would be a later for the two of you and opted for taking your hand in his and leading you onto the rink .

“Well, in that case. Show me what you got and forget about everything else for a minute.” he offers and you accept  his offer and shakily make your way onto the rink like bambi trying to walk for the first time. 

“Okay, so I’ll admit. I don’t actually know how to skate. I don’t why I thought this was a good idea.” you manage to stand for all of 10 seconds before tripping over onto him and he turns towards the DJ talking into the mic and signals for him to slow the music down.

“I got you.” he says and “Always Be My Baby” starts to play softly in the background as the “world” changes to a starry night. 

You look up at him for a moment and nod before leaning into him. As you rest your head on his shoulder he begins to skate you left to right gently swaying you to the beat of the song as his hand rests respectfully on the small of your back almost instinctively. It took everything in you not to start tearing up again.

This was your song . He always promised that you’d be a part of him no matter what happens in life. You were always going to be his baby. 

All the couples were paired off and you looked around at Iri holding onto Tika and smiled knowing that they’ve never acknowledged their feelings for each other but it was clear as day to anyone else. 

He swayed you and held you against him while his thumb stroked your back gently and you closed your eyes trying to soak up your time with him. 

You don’t know how it happened or if this was one long drawn out delusion or what exactly was going on in the moment, but all you knew was that you were able to feel the warmth of your E in your arms again and his scent evading all of your senses. 

In this moment he was smiling and content and at peace, not being shipped back to you with claw marks in his chest and bruises all over him. He was here with even slow breaths and enjoying himself. 

You knew that he felt it too because as the song ended you opened your eyes to find him looking down at you with this look of confusion and adulation on his face. 

You run your fingers over his cheek and clear your throat and recoil your hand back by your side. 

“I think your friends are calling for you.” you say to him playfully as the men and one woman around your age skate over to him and around the two of you, asking you a bunch of questions at once.

E- N’Jadaka let’s go of you to turn to them and introduce them to you .

“This is Orleans big head ass, Khalil , Pen, Lina, and Big Mike.” he says and they say hey and ask you if you are from around the area and you talk back and forth. 

The conversation between you and his little group was so easygoing. It didn’t feel forced or awkward as he stood beaming from you to them.

“I've been there once or twice. I really liked the Hottentot Saartjie/ Sarah Baartman piece about the dehumanization and caricaturization of black women, especially darker skin women, then and now. It was both interesting and heartbreaking. It’s the reason why I do what I do now. I create safe spaces for black girls and women of all ages. It’s my greatest accomplishment and something I’m most proud of.” you answer Mike’s question about the new black art exhibit downtown.

Mike looks at you and shakes his head in wonder and amusement.

“Daka, with all due respect bruh. I gotta ask her to marry me. Or you need to let me know what aisle that was you met her because I’mma swing by your parents' store tonight. I think we might be out of bread or something.” Big Mike says before complimenting you on your outfit and Lina joined in by asking if you’d like to check out a new record store with her on Tuesday.  

Next thing you knew your girls skated next to you to see what was going on. Tika introduced herself to the group and Iridia followed through.

“Hey I heard something about a record store because I could use some new ones. I think our neighbors are tired of me playing Otis Redding every night for the last few weeks. Keep asking me if I had a breakup every time I see her. Bless her nosey heart , Mrs. Pepper.” Iridia says talking animatedly and as gesticulatively as she always does and his small group of friends as everyone does seems completely enamored by her. 

“Of course, yeah, why don’t you come too? And Mrs. Pepper just doesn't know good music but I may be biased because Cigarettes and Coffee is my favourite song. Hold that thought. My mouth is dry as hell from all that skating around, be right back-” Lina says before skating away for refreshments and the rest of the group talks amongst each other.

Other friends of N’Jadaka come up at random times to hug him, get photos, or say happy birthday.

“You want some?” Lina asks Erik as she returns  to the group with a cupcake in her hand as she peeled the wrapper off and offered Erik a piece of the chocolate dessert. She reached out her hand towards his mouth and you looked from her to him and then at the cupcake which looked like it had walnuts in it. You push the piece away from his mouth and she looks at you puzzled. 

“What’s up with you?” he asks looking confused 

“Chocolate walnut cupcake.” you say simply not realizing that you were supposed to have just met him this morning .

“I- I mean just a lucky guess you know most people have nut allergies and shit.” you try to cover your tracks and he let out a sigh before laughing and nodding.

“You right too. Damn I was gon be out here looking like Will Smith when he ate that shellfish in Hitch for the rest of the function. I’m allergic to nuts. Good looking out ma.” he says and you nod at him before telling him to go skate with his friends you’d meet up later.

As you part ways your friends have about 3000 questions each. Iri believing that that definitely has to be Erik and Tika believing that you both had lost your natural born ass minds. 

You all settle on how wild it is that he looked like Erik and left it there. You enjoyed the rest of your night swag surfing with a room full of new friends and your old forever friends and just fully enjoying your birthday. 

“WE LIKE TO PAARTTAAYYY. AYYYYEEE AYYYYYEEE.” you sung out loud at the top of your lungs with everyone else and Beyonce. 

Somehow you end up twerking on Lina and having a good laugh as the drinks flow through your system.

You glance over at N’Jadaka being circled by some of his guests and he breaks the circle to grab your hand and lead you to the middle of it with him. 

“MY BIRTHDAY TWIN!” he shouts over the music to his guests and you shake your head telling him that he doesn’t really have to share his spotlight with you.

“Ain’t no problem.” he responds and you watch as everybody starts to skate a circle around you and Erik and y’all both laugh and pose for pictures while people sing Happy Birthday the Stevie Wonder version.

 His friends and yours all took turns to skate up to pin money on you both. 

You cheer and clap along to the music as you sing Happy Birthday to him and he sings it back to you. 

Before you know it you're both smiling at each other and getting swept up into a soft gentle kiss that feels like electricity is pulsing between the two of you.

As you close your eyes you can get a glimpse of kissing him before he left for Wakanda. The way he pressed his forehead against yours , the way your hands rested against his beating heart, and the way that his soft plumps felt against yours.

You knew that he felt it too because when you  broke the kiss with a tug of his bottom lip he was staring down at you once again with a puzzled expression.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped. I just-” you explain before exiting the circle and making your way out of the skating rink.

You quickly take off the shows and put your regular shoes back on as you stand outside for a moment to get some fresh air and gather yourself.

"Why is this happening? How is this happening? People don't just get to come back. This is insane. This is insane."

It didn’t take long at all before Erik was smoothly grooving his way out of the door not once spilling his drink.

“You know ma, I’mma lot of things. But I know for sure stupid ain’t one of them.” he says swaying his shoulders to the music before he stops and stands in front of you.

“You know something, don’t you? How do we really know each other?” he asks slowly 

“I don’t. We met in Aloha Oakland for the first time. I feel so connected to you and believe that we have chemistry because you remind me of my ex. He passed away nearly a year ago and I didnt wanna tell you that right off the bat because the shit’s weird. “Hey, sorry I passed out ,  you cute but you remind me of my dead ex. So yeah, have a good day”.” you explain and he nods deciding once again to not press the issue. 

"I'm sorry for your loss. Grief is never an easy thing to go through. I feel I experienced so much of that so early I didn't know anything else besides death. I was told that my birth parents were both murdered. But my parents taught me through all that rot and decay of the heart something beautiful can still grow. They taught me how to live. That there is more to life is more than just surviving day to day out of spite and anger." He speaks slowly like he's really pondering the words that he wants to say before continuing. 

"It's kinda my fault. I feel like I was a lil too forward with all of this. My friends and the way that they party can be overwhelming. I'd like to make it up to you if you up for it. Just me and you. Maybe like a coffee or something quieter than this. I want to get to know you. Even though I know it's gonna sound corny as hell, I can't help feeling like I already do. You passing out by them discount cakes wasn't an accident at all, I think it was fate." he says and you look up at him before nodding. 

“I think so too.”

[letterstomilen]

i discuss the classification of igneous petrology as you fall asleep during my lecture (PART 1) (ASMR)

Childe/Zhongli, Alternate Universe (read part 2 here) When Childe's younger sister tells him about the volunteer at the library, he does not make the connection between that and his new favorite ASMR YouTuber, Rex Lapis.

Childe has a very effective method of getting through college. His little sister, who’s caught him making coffee at three in the morning on more than one occasion the past week alone, would beg to differ. 

“You’re the best older brother,” she starts off, and he’s sure she’s trying to convince herself more than him at this point, “but you need to fix your sleeping habits.” Then, because she’s his little sister, she’d flash him a smile and pat his shoulder reassuringly.

(The comment is not lost on him though. He understands his sleeping situation will eventually wear him down if it hadn’t already, but he believes if he’ll drink a coffee every morning and a Monster every night, he’ll get through three days. By the third day, he’ll hardly be coherent but that doesn’t matter because he’ll conk out for the next twelve hours and then repeat.)

“Don’t worry, Tonia,” he says, trying to sound as reassuring as possible as he contemplates whether it’s worth it or not to swallow a pill of 5-hour energy with his morning coffee. “Once break ends, I’ll get back to normal.”

“You said that six seasons ago.”

Childe frowns, trying to remember if his sleeping schedule was this dysfunctional last year. “Huh?”

“The Walking Dead seasons,” Tonia clarifies, as if she’s not twelve years old and the show is for grown adults. He thinks. He hasn’t checked Commonsensemedia ever since La Signora labeled him as a “helicopter parent” and his Netflix tab has been playing How to Get Away with Murder as background noise for the past few weeks.

Isn’t it a show about zombies though? Tonia’s sheepish smile tells it all, because it’s the same exact guilty look he had when he got caught red-handed as a kid.

(Once he remembers later, Childe promises himself, he’ll check out The Walking Dead.)

“Oh. Well. I have a lot of shows to catch up on, you know. Not to mention a ton of my professors gave me reading for over the break.”

A half lie. They did give him a lot of reading because each professor assumed that their classes were his only one, and with seven days left, he still has a textbook worth of reading to go through. But there are no shows that Childe would sacrifice his precious sleep for. As a matter of fact, he would love to sleep. He’s spent the majority of his classes back in high school sleeping and faking attention, saving his grade at the last minute — it was quite the extreme sport really, if he says so himself.

Whenever he tries to sleep recently, his thoughts run at several hundred miles per hour, and he spends several hours staring at the ceiling before succumbing to the computer at his desk and watching trashy movies. At this point, he must have gone through the entire romance comedy list on Netflix. (Not a proud point in his life but if anybody ever wanted him to give a list of best to worst romance comedy movies, he now has one.)

Tonia, on the other hand, isn’t incredibly convinced.

Admittedly, the excuse was lame. Also, he can’t easily lie to his little sister, who’s far shrewder than he takes her for at times.

“You never start your reading in advance. You like to speed read it right before your class or watch a five-minute video on the chapters while your teachers take attendance. But that’s… uh, ‘a bad work ethic.’” Tonia looks immensely proud of herself as she says this, finishing it off with, “Zhongli told me that.”

“Zhongli?” he repeats, trying to remember if that’s one of her classmates or some stranger that’s hoping to kidnap his sister.

“The guy that volunteers at the library sometimes. He recommended me a loot of good books to read, but he talks like an old man.”

“How old?” Childe can tell she’s enjoying this — talking about her new friend at the library that he’ll probably have to run a background check on.

“Like he’s in his sixties or something. But he looks… actually, he looks your age! And he’s a student too. I told him all about you.”

Well, that doesn’t sound very reassuring coming from the mouth of a twelve-year-old. He’s not sure if that translates to his social security number, his current dilemma, or just that he’s her older brother.

“Like all of the stories you told me when I was a kid. And then when Lumine came to pick me up, she stayed to show him pictures of you too.”

“Of course she did,” he mumbles, ruffling her hair. One of these days he’s going to move without telling his classmates and the twins won’t enter his apartment unannounced. (But Tonia adores their company and the stories they tell her far too much for him to actually do it. But that doesn’t mean he’s above making threats when they tell his little sister about the bet he made about white-out and how it could dye hair. The jury is still out on this one.) “She’s just mad because I get away with it and she doesn’t. But don’t do it yourself. It’s a bad habit,” he adds, remembering that he should at least try to be a good influence on his younger sister when he can.

“Okaaay,” she says unconvincingly, before shaking her hair and running off to her room with lunch he prepared for her.

Watching her close the door and no doubt continue her binge of The Walking Dead, he takes out his phone and texts Lumine.

 Childe

12:35

ur a horrible influence on tonia

 Childe

12:35

and whos this ZHONGLI

 Childe

12:35

also is twd appropriate for 12 y/os

 Twin 1

12:37

a normal person would say hi

 Twin 1

12:37

also 1. me n aether watched it when we were 12 so probably and 2. some guy at the library that also goes to our school

 Well. At least he’s somebody they know. But The Walking Dead?

 Childe

12:38

thats not very convincing

 Childe

12:38

also dont ppl DIE? get BITTEN???? what if she gets nightmares

 Twin 1

12:39

isnt she 12 r u telling me u weren’t watching R rated movies at 12

 Childe

12:42

thats very different from a 10 season long show that is hailed as “one of the greatest horror shows in history” and “paved the way for post-apocalyptic horror”

 Twin 1

12:42

well if she has trouble sleeping she could always watch asmr. that helps me during midterms idk

 Childe

12:42

whats asmr

 Childe

12:43

asking for my sister btw

 Twin 1

12:44

A feeling of well-being combined with a tingling sensation in the scalp and down the back of the neck, as experienced by some people in response to a specific gentle stimulus, often a particular sound.

 Childe

12:45

wtf?

 Twin 1

12:45

people on the internet make random sounds or just talk into a mic n its supposed to be very relaxing. how have u never found out abt this?????

 Childe

12:45

idk the only thing on my youtube recommended r greatest stunts and chapter review videos

 Twin 1

12:47

… makes sense

 Twin 1

12:47

check out rex lapis’ channel he looks like ur type

 Childe

12:48

i thought we were talking about my sister????

 Twin 1

12:50

[message screenshots.jpg]

 Twin 1

12:50

ya she told me everything

 Twin 1

12:50

have fun i need to convince aether to not commit arson bc of his TA

 Childe

12:51

hope he does it

He opens his Youtube app, typing in Rex Lapis and expecting Lumine’s suggestion to be a joke. Despite them being friends for nearly two years now, she’s never made any indication of knowing his type. And he’s sure he’s never been that vocal about it either, only shooting appreciative looks at history majors and paying more attention than necessary to the TA for ‘Tradition of Justice and Law.’ (It’s unfortunate that those short-term crushes never led to anything, but maybe that’s for the better seeing that Childe has never understood the appeal of relationships.)

It is an ASMR channel, judging by the ASMR playlist he finds as he scrolls through the account. The icon shows no face — only a microphone — which leaves him skeptical. Most of the video titles belong in a petrology lecture as well, which makes him even more convinced that it’s a joke. He finds a few readings of ancient literature and decides to pick ‘I discuss the classification of igneous petrology as you fall asleep during my lecture (PART 1) (ASMR)’ because that’s exactly what he needs. (Not the very moment — but ten hours later when he’s in the bed memorizing the pattern of his ceiling wondering why he stole from his fifth grade teacher’s candy jar during lunch.)

When Childe opens the video, he damn near gasps.

The man in the video is exactly his type. His eyes are a soft amber color, framed with long lashes, and it’s almost enough for him to lose his dignity and message Lumine a long thank you text about how she is always right and he’ll pay for her coffee for the following week.  He smiles at the screen, albeit a little sheepishly, dark hair framing his face with a long ponytail that Childe can’t see the end of. On his right ear, there are a pair of earrings with a single feather that brush against his neck when he moves his head.

Even before he speaks, Childe is mesmerized, sure he’ll already memorize his features from the curve of his nose to the way he tilts his head, displaying the expanse of his neck.

Really — he reminds him of actors in historical dramas, the way he sits regally, and how he speaks. His voice is low and slow as he adopts a careful manner of speaking, leaning into the mic.

“I’m Rex Lapis, and I’ll be discussing igneous petrology today, which is part one in a three-part petrology series. I apologize in advance, seeing that my knowledge is limited compared to many petrologists out there but my friend Venti said that many of my viewers are here for my voice, so I’m very excited to start today’s video.”

Holy shit.

For the following week, Childe learns less about petrology, the philosophy of economics, and historical revisionism concerning matters of war and more about Rex Lapis, who is not in love with his voice but often finds himself in the middle of long tangents without explanations. His favorite book series is the Legend of the Lone Sword, which he says he’ll look forward to reading out loud for the channel. (Childe replays that part of the video again and again, captivated by his excitement as he mindlessly taps the mic while he speaks, his tangent cutting off mid-word — as it usually does, much to his dismay.)

His guilty obsession is not lost on Tonia, who realizes that instead of drinking Monster every night he’s been engrossed in his phone completely, often not noticing her or when the water starts bubbling. But because his sleeping schedule has been alleviated, she says nothing until Lumine comes over as she always does, not forgetting their weekly schedule of watching trashy movies while leeching off of Childe’s food.

Because he doesn’t trust the twins with the kitchen — even if they can cook — she instead spends her time sitting next to Tonia and spreading more of her anti-Childe propaganda while they wait. This usually involves Tonia occasionally calling out Childe’s name and asking, “Is that true?” or “Did you really do that?”

This time is different though.

Worried that Lumine finally decided to show Tonia a video of last semester’s presentation, he leans over, looking at the computer screen.

And he’s wrong. Unfortunately. Maybe it should’ve been his presentation because even if he botched it and accidentally projected his work process — screaming notes and all — to the class instead of his actual presentation, it would’ve been better than the two of them watching one of Rex Lapis’ videos together.

The ‘I read Erosion: Essays of Undoing to you as it rains outside’ video, to be specific, which is where Rex Lapis is embarrassed by Venti mid video when asked if this was his idea of a date with a lover. (And then it ends with Rex Lapis asking for video suggestions from the commentors, his face still flushed from the previous comments.)

Oh God — oh fuck.

“So he is your type,” Lumine says, her expression a bit too smug for his liking. Tonia looks half awake, scrolling through articles as the video plays, more interested in ‘Top 10 Glenn Rhee Moments’ than Childe’s crush. Her expression is a bit guilty as she does so — she’s biting her lip and avoiding his gaze, but he assumes that it’s just because they went through his YouTube history.

“I can neither confirm nor deny that statement,” he retorts, but the YouTube history she pulls up once Tonia hands the computer over to her says it all. (It’s quite mortifying, really — even Tonia is giving him a look, but it’s not as bad as Lumine’s shit eating grin.)

“Well… he does have a nice voice,” Childe finally says, thinking that perfectly encompasses his most recent obsession. Because he does have a nice voice — it’s soothing and speaks to him without really speaking to him directly. (The good looks are a bonus, he assures himself. A fantastic bonus, but a bonus nonetheless.)

“He does,” Tonia confirms, smiling toothily up at him, and he resists the urge to ruffle her hair with Lumine staring at him so skeptically. “But I don’t understand much of what he’s saying. He — heh — talks like an old man.”

“Don’t worry, Tonia, your brother likes him because he’s attractive,” Lumine informs her, now fast forwarding on one of Rex Lapis’ videos. “Did you know that he lives nearby?”

“Huh?”

The knife he’s holding clatters to the floor, and the two look down and back up at him with— hold on, why does it feel like they’re in on a secret he doesn’t know about?

“Yeah, he’s working on his grad thesis I think… Aether told me it was about something on history,” she muses. “That’s why I recommended his channel to you. He’s a bit of a celebrity in his department.” Childe’s sure his jaw dropped now, trying to maintain his facial expression as he takes out a new knife to chop up the onions.

“Really,” he tries to say as calmly as possible, wondering how he should accompany Aether to his lectures without trying to seem as obvious as possible. His voice is a bit shaky he realizes but he can’t quite make the connection between Rex Lapis and actual graduate student that goes to his university.

“Yeah, actually…” Lumine is definitely pretending to think now, enjoying this far too much. “He—”

“It’s Zhongli!” his little sister yells excitedly, practically jumping up and down at this point as if she won the lottery. “Zhongli runs an ASMR channel and he talks just like that in real life! Right, Lumine?”

“Yeah.”

Childe sighs, holding a hand up to his face. The realization that he’s been obsessed with the same guy that hears about every stupid thing he did secondhand is way too much — and the fact that he’s been listening to his voice every night before he went to bed the past week is way too much. He’s sure his face is redder than before judging by the amused expressions on Lumine’s and Tonia’s faces — really, they’re mirror images of each other right now.

Not for the first time, Childe swears to himself that he’ll never let her into his apartment without signing a contract ever again.

[a-girl-must-have-a-new-name]

Best One Yet

Gendry choked as he opened the Tyrell’s front door and a fog of dried ice assaulted him. However he waved it away and gallantly held the door open wider so that Arya could slip under his arm and enter. 

“Wow Margaery really outdid herself again this year didn’t she!” It was more fact than question, one Gendry didn’t bother answering as they took in their surroundings for the evening.  Margaery Tyrell had gone all out this year and had decorated her house as if it were a mausoleum, if mausoleums were underground vampire clubs of course. Columns that Gendry was at least seventy-five percent sure hadn’t been there before, now lined the entrance  and into the ballroom  of the estate. Instead of twinkling lights or whatever it was that they usually used for parties it seemed like Margaery and Loras had acquired a couple hundred sconces to light the house in a flickering candlelight. Gendry hoped that when the eventual fire would start Arya and he would be long gone. Though it seemed as though Arya had no such plan, eyeing the “mood lighting” in absolute delight.  

“This is amazing! Robb had said Margaery had been going crazy the last week or so with planning, but even he has to admit it was worth it!”  

“I don’t know, I kinda like last years theme better.” Last year had been a pumpkin carving party with tons of alcohol involved. 

“That’s just because you enjoyed seeing Joffrey accidentally cut himself with a carving knife.”

“And you didn’t?” 

“Well lets just say I wasn’t boo hooing as his goons dragged him to the hospital for stitches.” Arya smiled as she thought back to Joffrey almost fainting from the sight of all his blood.  

“Arya, Gendry! I’m so glad you came!” Margaery Tyrell was on them in an instant hugging and kissing both on the cheek before pulling away to look at them. 

“Love your costumes by the way! Please tell me that you’ll both enter the couples contest!”  Margery spoke over the music. Arya looked up at Gendry coyly and shrugged. This year they had decided to go as Batman and Catwoman.  Not the most original costume idea they’ve had but one that suited them fine nonetheless. In fact Arya was rather proud of the look. Having decided to go with a more vintage looking Catwoman, taking her inspiration right from Julie Newmar. 

Arya had begged Sansa for months to make the costume and after promising to cover Sansa’s chores for the rest of the year. (As well as forking over the money for materials needed and a little extra for service) Arya couldn’t be happier! How Sansa had gotten the pattern needed and an almost exact type of fabric she couldn’t say but damn was her sister good at what she does. Sansa had even offered to help her do her hair and make up, styling it like Brigitte Bardot. 

Arya had thought Gendry would go with the Nolan batman costume or something of that nature. To show off his stature and muscles, also because it was overall just bad ass if she had to say so. However, to her surprise Gendry showed up to her house in the Adam West Costume eyebrow mask and all. Once Arya could stand up straight again after laughing too hard she asked him why the choice? 

“Who doesn’t want to be Adam West? Besides the other costumes made me look strange with all the extra padding sewn in on them.” Gendry did mention off-handedly, obviously a little embarrassed at the explanation but Arya couldn’t see why.  Gendry had a great fucking body, one that was constantly on her mind if she was honest. He was well built from years of sports and hard work, lifting and carrying car parts and tools at his job at Mott’s Garage. He wasn’t crazy muscular  like Dany’s Boyfriend was but he was still fit buff. In Fact with him wearing the batsuit she was reminded of vintage photos of American football players. 

Shaking away her thoughts she turned back to Margaery admiring her own costume choice,  Margaery had opted for a vampire look, befitting this year's theme.  She was wearing a long flowy black sheer and laced corset dress with black and red roses adorning her hair in a makeshift crown that ended up cascading strategically down the back of her hair in smaller roses. 

“Margaery your costume is great, I can see why Robb spent so much on his costume!” Arya 

“Hey from what I heard my costume didn’t cost anything near what  yours did. Hey Gendry what’s up? Batman nice!” Robb had joined the little group, greeting Gendry with their usual hug and leaned over to try and muss Arya’s hair who expertly dodged. Robb’s costume was very similar to Margaery's having an almost Victorian design with the same details sewn into the dress cape he wore.  The group talked a little longer but Margaery had to excuse herself having hosting duties and Robb being the ever dutiful boyfriend followed her.  Arya turned to Gendry eyed him up and down a glint in her eyes as she spoke

“Mr. Wayne would you care to dance?”

“Only if you call me Batman when we are out in public, Don’t want to have my identity known.”

“Purrr-fect.” Arya jokingly said as she grabbed Gendry’s hand and excitedly led him to the dance floor. Where a dark techno beat was blasting. For the next hour or so they danced. It was truly an eclectic set Margaery had put together. one moment it was a haunting waltz music which unsurprisingly for the group that had gathered all knew. (products of their upbringings) Gendry was a little nervous only having learned these dances later in life but Arya gently reminded him as they went and soon it was no problem at all for him, even surprising her once or twice with twirls and dips. 

There were also the songs where they pull each other closer, moving rhythmically to the slowed hypnotic beats. A growing frustration at wanting to be even closer to each other, often forgetting where they were and getting caught up in the moment. Only getting a warning  click of disapproval from Jon once, before his girlfriend Ygritte dragged him away.  

 While jumping along when rave music blasted.  After one final dance, one that was exceptionally energetic, Gendry pleaded for a break and both moved towards the refreshment tables. Gendry in search of food and drink for them while Arya looked for a place to sit.  

“Arya come sit at my table!” Sansa’s voice rang out clearly but Arya had trouble placing it until a wild hand beckoned her forward.  

“Sansa is that you?” Arya was shocked instead of seeing her normal long Tully red hair Sansa was wearing a short dark black wig. Styled in a classic men's side part. It was jarring to see her with dark short hair. Arya thought rather enviously that it suited her even better than when Arya sported a short cropped hairstyle all those long years ago. Sansa’s delicate features were highlighted even more. And was it possible that Sansa’s blue eyes looked even brighter  because of the dark color? Life was unfair.

However, Arya didn’t dwell on it like she would have years ago instead she smiled widely and  approached Sansa who for her part was lounging at the table she had acquired and was looking around the room from time to time.

“This is great isn’t it? I think it’s even better than junior year's Rocky Horror theme!”  Sansa exclaimed as Arya plopped down beside her. 

That year had been a karaoke party while the film continuously played on loop on one of the dance floor walls. Sansa had been dragged up to the mic to sing and pretty much stole the show.  Well at least she had until Olenna Tyrell walked down the stairs for a drink  and came face to er- Renly Baratheon's gyrating hips as he danced drunkenly on one of the tables.

 It had been a night to remember truly. Especially when Olenna surprised everyone and grabbed the mic from Sansa’s hands and with a strength that a woman of her age shouldn’t have possessed pulled Renly down from the table and had him singing along with her in no time. 

“That was a pretty great party.”  Arya admitted remembering Sansa’s scandalized face at the time.

“Hey Arya I grabbed a whole bunch of different things to eat! I even snagged a goodie bag for dessert. I figured we can grab a few more later. Margaery isn’t going to notice- Oh hey Sansa almost didn’t recognize you!  Great costume but I thought Arya said you were going as the little mermaid?” 

“Oh I am, however somebody made a better case that they should be Ariel” Sansa replied casually with a conspiratorial  smile forming across her lips as she looked behind them. 

“Sup Bitches! Gendry I love what you’ve done with your brows!” Theon shouted loudly as he placed two bottles on the table, a water for Sansa and a beer for him.

 Gendry who had taken a bite out of his cupcake  once again  began to choke, though Arya couldn’t be worried at the moment as she grinned wildly at Theon reaching over the table to give him a high five.  Theon had a long red wig on and a purple seashell bra that was slightly skewed. His bottom half Arya was happy to see covered by a mertail.  Which was connected to a stick so he could move it around. 

“Alright I give up, Gendry I don’t think we are going to win the costume contest.”

“That’s fine with me, if you guys don’t win it, the contest is rigged!” 

“Come on now, I think we’ve got a good shot to win this year” Ygritte's voice came from behind as everyone turned to look at them. Ygritte and Jon looked absolutely ridiculous in their Scoops Ahoy costumes. 

Jon had absolutely refused at first, saying there was no way he’d walk around looking like that. Contest or not.

 However, it was no surprise to Arya that, that evening as she was walking through the hallway she spotted Jon meticulously adjusting the sailor hat to sit perfectly on his locks. Jon having caught her looking only sighed defeatedly and shrugged his shoulders.  As if to say  “what can you do?”  

Everyone moved around so that there was more room at the table and Theon nodded his head regarding the newest members of the table looking them up and down  before his normal sly smile crept across his face.

“I’ll give it to you, you’ve got the upper hand in terms of popularity at the moment. But what Sans and I’ve got is pure classic nostalgia, and humor. Though I do have to admit Snow, those shorts are a riot!”

“Not to mention you really nailed the hair Harrington!” Robb joined the conversation plopping on the only chair left at the table next to Jon and ruffling his hair. Causing Jon to curse moving out of reach and adjusting the hat once more.

“Where’s Margaery? Sansa asked, looking around for her.

“She’s setting up for the runway right now.” Robb answered as he swiped Theon’s beer taking a sip for himself while Theon went to go get more drinks for the table.

“She got a runway for this?” Gendry asked in disbelief, rich people never stopped surprising him.

“Hey at least it’s not a haunted mansion like she rented three years ago.” Robb offered knowingly. Patting Gendry on the back.

“But Harrenhal was awesome. I want to go back!” Arya defended. Gendry looked visibly ill at the thought. That was back before they had become a couple, they had decided to go to the party with their friend Hot Pie. It was not a good night for Gendry who up until that moment had been able to keep his fear of jump scares and ghost to a minimum. It also didn’t help that some pretty boy named Jaqen had gone along on their group's tour, walking with Arya and laughing at the scare actors and tour guide as they went. 

The only thing that made the tour bearable was after one close call of Gendry nearly hitting a worker with his Thor hammer. Arya having realized what was wrong, left the front of the group to walk side by side with him the rest of the night. Taking his hand in preparation for the next scare, and squeezing it to reassure him before letting go again. At some point in the night Gendry just kept a hold of her hand. And within the week they were going out. So yeah maybe Harrenhal wasn’t as bad as he remembered.  But still the thought of the creepy burnt house and all the ghost and ghouls that were there was enough to keep him away for a lifetime

The rest of the night ended up staying for the most part at the table, laughing and reminiscing on Halloween’s past. Theon caused everyone to cry from laughter as he retold highlights of his tricks as a child. How he had successfully tee-peed old Walder Frey's house and never got caught. To which Robb added that he never got caught only because Robb was blamed for it instead. It cost Robb a month of cleaning and yard work at the man’s house to make up for it. 

Arya had moved from her chair at some point to sit on Gendry’s lap and leaned into the crook of his neck enjoying the feeling of his body laughing at her brother’s wild antics. It was nice to see the usually stoic man open up and enjoy other peoples company. But Arya  knew it was only because this was her crazy family and he’d known all of them just as long as she’d known him. He was just as much a part of the stories as anyone else.  

The group ate and drank the rest of the night, Robb having left half way through to go help Margaery once more, and soon the contest had begun.  The crowd cheered as each couple walked the runway.  Margaery and Robb walked first after having explained they wouldn’t be competing but still thought the costumes deserved to be appreciated. They looked like quite the power couple. Then after a while Jon and Ygritte had their turn. Both laughing as they walked, people screaming their character’s names and quoting the show as they went.  As they sat back down Jon winked at Arya.

“Beat that.”

“Oh trust me, we will!” feeling her competitive streak rise up Arya hopped out of Gendry’s lap and grabbed his arm dragging him along. After quickly consulting with each other on what they were going to do Arya ran back stage to hand her phone to Margaery asking her to play it on the sound system. By the time Arya got back to Gendry it was almost their time to walk. And as soon as the original batman theme started playing the crowd went wild. Gendry ran out on stage karate chopping and punching the air in wild broad strokes in time with the music. Meanwhile Arya waited until he was about two thirds of the way down the runway and then she was going. Thanking her parents for all the years of gymnastics she had taken Arya carted her way down. Twisting and flipping perfectly down the line. Before landing perfectly next to Gendry. Both grinned like idiots as they took a sweeping bow. Confident in their spot they hopped off the Stage Gendry catching Arya easily in his arms which added more fuel to the fire as the crowd laughed and cheered even more. Walking back to their table Arya eyed Ygritte coyly before asking.

“Still think you're winning?”  

“No, no we know when we’re beat.” Ygritte laughed.

“I just hope you know when you Are.” Jon said with a chuckle as he pointed to the stage where Sansa and Theon were alreadying posing. And once the regular music started once more. Both started to strut the runway. In tandem looking like ridiculous models. At some point Theon somehow was able to wrap the part of the tail that was attached to a stick around his neck dramatically like a scarf before ripping it free at the end of the walk. Sansa for her part pulled out a sword from a hilt and started brandishing it. Arya quickly realized it was her prized fencing sword Jon had bought her.  But couldn’t find it in herself to be mad. Instead she threw her head back wolf whistling as Theon turned “seductively” around showing the complete costume.  In the end it really was no contest. Sansa and Theon won by a landslide. And after a long winded and completely  unnecessary acceptance speech on Theon’s part. (which Arya was very sure she heard Jon muttering to himself that he wished Theon would actually lose his voice.) The party had drawn to a close. The group separated all feeling like the night wasn’t quite over. Gendry hummed in content as he and Arya made it back to his apartment. Having ditched the costumes for more comfortable clothes Arya was snuggled up on the couch in one of Gendry’s large t-shirts, as Gendry flipped through dvd’s before finally settling on one. Quickly putting it in and turning off the lights he sat on the couch as well, gladly letting Arya into his space as she leaned against him once more.  Arya laughed as the title menu for the batman show lit up the screen. 

“Not tired of it yet?”

“No way gotta pay homage to it right?”

“Right, and what better way than a marathon and candy?”

“Oh shit I forgot to get the goodie bags!” 

“I know, that’s why I swiped them, when you were asking Robb if they needed any help cleaning.”

“Why you crafty little thief there’s like 10 bags here!” Gendry laughed as Arya pulled her bag she had taken for the night out and revealed all the treats she had grabbed. Arya merely shrugged, pulling two out and tossing one to Gendry.

“ What can I say? I really wanted to pay homage to Catwoman.” 

This was hands down Margaery’s best Halloween party yet.

[arigatouiris]

never too late // bakugou katsuki

Author’s Note: I’m a Bakuhoe and it is so evident ughhh. So I’d been to Hong Kong earlier this year and I visited Ocean Park and fell in love with the place! It’s the amusement part I’ve based off of for this one-shot. I personally think Theme Park AUs should be a thing, you know? I don’t personally know how things work, so I just made things up here. Hope ya’ll like this! 

Word count: 5480 (omg words just spilled oops)

Pairing: Theme Park AU! Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Warnings: slow burn, pining, some angst if you squint, fluff

❝

As soon as you wore your uniform and stepped out of the locker room, you heard a scream. 

     “Help me! Somebody help me!”

You were late to work that day. You came in an hour late (a very reasonable excuse, if you had to say so yourself). You blinked before trying to find the source of the scream, scanning your eyes amongst the crowd of children and grown-ups in front of the queue leading to the aquarium. You sighed before walking over to a small child, whose hands were being held by his father, you presumed, and crouched down with a smile. 

     “Is something wrong, sir?”

The child looked at you and blinked before saying, “He isn’t buying me ice-cream!”

His father shot you an apologetic look, which you returned warmly. 

     “Maybe, you can get ice-cream after the aquarium visit? The fish aren’t allowed to have ice-cream, they’ll get jealous!”

The little boy’s eyes widened, before looking at his dad, who shot him a heartwarming smile. As the boy cheered, you bowed and made your way into the aquarium. 

You were incredibly happy with your life and your job—but after a certain incident, you were demoted. You were once a part of the dolphin crew—the best job, according to you, in Ocean World. You sighed as you thought about the dolphins and seals you were working with, you missed them and though it wasn’t as if you weren’t allowed to visit them, not working with them in those little skits broke your heart. 

Stupid Mineta, you thought before grumbling and heading to your current post. Well, at least he lost his job or fucking quit, I’ve no clue, you thought. 

You were currently in charge of the aquarium section—answering queries, if any, watching over the bigger fish, ensuring the tanks were clean and managing the crowds too. It wasn’t much on most days, but during weekends, it was jam-packed. You used to be one of the lead performers in the Ocean World’s dolphin and seal act—alongside the one and only Tsuyu Asui. Thanks to a little grabbing and slapping incident involving a regular pervert, Mineta (who was most probably fired or forced to resign, either one), you were asked very kindly to shift departments. 

While the entire ordeal was unfair, there was little you could do. You were given the hope that when things died down (you did not know what this meant), you could return. The best part about working in Ocean World was that you knew almost everyone who worked there. 

The head of the aquarium department was Midoriya Izuku, a close friend of yours from when you were in school. His knowledge of aquatic animals and plants was tenfold, there was no one who knew better than him. He was kind and stern when he had to be, and children adored him. The aquarium was large and the departments that were connected to it were—the Koala reserve, the Panda reserve, and the reptile section. 

Your good friends Jirou Kyouka and Yaoyarozu Momo worked in the Koala reserve, with Momo being a ranger herself. The Panda reserve had Kaminari Denki and Uraraka Ochako working there, and Uraraka was someone you constantly met with to share hot gossip, even when you were working with the dolphins and seals. The reptile section was headed by Bakugou Katsuki and Kirishima Eirjiro, but there was a slight problem there.

Bakugou Katsuki did not like you. 

And it wasn’t as if you hid your dislike for him, either.

Kirishima was often struck in the middle amongst your bickering but rarely said a word because only often does he get to enjoy two of his friends fight about the silliest things like water bottles or broken plastic chairs. 

It wasn’t as if you hated one another, no; Bakugou and you shared a weird relationship. You’ve known Bakugou for as long as you’ve known Izuku, and you could even call yourselves friends. But, the deal was very simple. 

There was a point in your life when you had a large crush on him, and there was a point in his life when he knew about it. However, there was no confession and there was no rejection—things were left floating in the air until those feelings evaporated in its entirety. You two now shared a weird kinship, bickering all the time but not letting it get too far if the other had a problem. 

When you were working with Asui, you rarely got to see Bakugou. The man never ate with the others, stuck to working all the damn time, and barely ever hung out after. He had a schedule he stuck to like nothing else—and this was perhaps why his only friend was Kirishima and sometimes, Midoriya tried to talk to him as well. 

     “(y/n)-chan!” Izuku whisper-yelled as soon as he spotted you.

He was standing in front of the tank that contained sawfish. You blinked before walking over to him, wondering what the whisper-yelling was about.

     “Izuku-kun? What’s wrong—”

     “It’s Kacchan.”

You hated that the situation began with ‘It’s Kacchan’ like it was a problem you had to deal with. You didn’t want to, but despite everything, Izuku was still your friend and it meant dealing with his friends from time to time as well. 

Groaning, “What’s wrong this time?”

     “The boys were getting beer last night and somehow Kacchan joined us, maybe Kirishima-kun forced him to, I don’t know... So, things got... Things got a bit—”

     “Excuse me, miss?”

You turned around to spot a lone parent with a worried expression.

     “Yes?” 

     “I can’t seem to find my daughter... I’m worried, she doesn’t have a phone on her, can you—” 

Your eyes widened, “Do you have a picture of her, ma’am? We’ll get on it right away. Izuku-kun, can you announce her name on the loudspeaker?”

Midoriya paused instantly and nodded, “Of course! Ma’am, please give us a picture of your daughter?”

     “She’s 7 years old... She’s deathly afraid of water, I wanted to bring her here to show her that it isn’t all that bad! I didn’t think she’d run away—”

     “Ma’am, I’m sure she’s fine. This is a big place, but we will find her. Rest assured. What’s her name?”

     “Mimi. Ito Mimi.” 

You nodded once before taking the picture from the mother and showing it to Izuku. Midoriya ran off to the mic station to make an announcement, and you started to look around inside. You instantly posted a message of Mimi’s picture and name in the Ocean World group on WhatsApp. 

Me: 𝙽𝚊𝚔𝚘𝚞 𝙼𝚒𝚖𝚒. 𝚂𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚕𝚍. 𝙻𝚘𝚜𝚝. 𝙻𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚎 𝚊𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚞𝚖, 𝚜𝚊𝚠𝚏𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚢𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝!  〣( ºΔº )〣

Ocha-chan: 𝙾𝚑 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜! 𝚈𝚎𝚜, 𝚠𝚎’𝚕𝚕 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚢𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎! ( : ౦ ‸ ౦ : )

Eijirou-kun: 𝙽𝚘 𝚔𝚒𝚍𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝚞𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚞𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 (╥_╥)

Kyou-chan: 𝙾𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎, 𝚗𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜 ┐(︶▽︶)┌

Eirjirou-kun: 𝚁𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚕𝚢! 𝙽𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 ヽ(`⌒´メ)ノ

Me: 𝙶𝚞𝚢𝚜... (￢_￢)

Kyou-chan: 𝚂𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢, (𝚢/𝚗) (シ_ _)シ

Eijirou-kun: 𝙸’𝚕𝚕 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚢𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝! (￣^￣)ゞ

You sighed before holding your phone in your hand and scanning each and every child’s face in the aquarium. A second later, Izuku’s voice was heard on the loudspeaker, announcing Mimi’s name and asking her to stay put wherever she is. He even stated that she should try and find someone wearing the Ocean World uniform and ask them to bring her to the Aquarium entrance. 

A second later, your phone buzzed.

Your eyes narrowed when you noticed it was Bakugou who was calling you.

     “I really don’t have time for—”

     “Shut up, idiot. The kid’s here with me. She’s fucking crying and I don’t know what to do.”

You blinked. 

     “What?”

     “Are you fucking slow or something? The kid’s with me—”

     “Bakugou! What did you do? Did you make her cry?”

You couldn’t understand. Kirishima said there was no kid in the reptile section. But, where was Bakugou?

     “Wait, where are you?” 

You could hear him groan on the other end, “I’m near the amusement park. Outside the roller coaster.”

     “What are you doing there?”

     “Shut up and come get her.”

You let out a long sigh. Ocean World was large—it was the largest theme park in the entire country. Since half of the park was situated literally on top of a mountain, the park is separated by a large mountain into two areas, The Summit (Headland) and The Waterfront (Lowland). To get to the amusement park, you had to move from the Lowland to the Headland—and you can only do so by using a cable car (which takes close to 20 minutes on its own). 

     “Seriously, Bakugou,” You said, right before he hung up, “Is everything okay with you?”

You didn’t hear him curse, which was new. You heard him breathe on the other end and say not a word.

     “Bakugou—”

     “(y/n), just come get the girl. She’s scared and has no idea how she got here.”

You nodded once before ending the call. You wanted to drop a message on the group saying the girl has been found, but you decided you’d do so after seeing the girl first. You quickly rushed to Midoriya and grabbed him by the shoulder.

     “Quickly tell me what’s up with Bakugou in like, 30 seconds.”

Izuku blinked, “We were drinking last night and we spoke a lot about you and Kacchan, not intentionally, but it just came up about how you two could have dated in school but didn’t and—”

     “Oh my god, Izuku-kun, I will kill you—”

     “But, Kacchan was quiet during the whole thing! I haven’t ever seen him so quiet before! It was strange... As if he was regretting something. Also, he called me Midoriya after and not Deku—”

     “So weird.” You said, scrunching your eyebrows.

     “Weird, indeed. But, it was Kaminari-kun who brought it up. Anyway, when Kirishima-kun asked Kacchan if he liked you back, he just up and left. We haven’t seen him since. He apparently took a day off today, too.”

A day off? You blinked. But, he just called me!

     “Uh, okay. So, I think I know where Mimi-chan is, so I’m going to head there now, okay? We’ll talk about Bakugou after!”

     “There really isn’t anything more to talk about, considering how he knew you liked him back then—”

     “The entire school knew, Izuku-kun, I’m over it.”

     “He just looked really depressed about it, that’s all. It’s like, the second your name was mentioned, Kacchan wasn’t Kacchan anymore.”

You felt your heart skip a beat at the mere thought. Nodding, you shot a personal message to Bakugou saying you were going to catch a cable car there and asked him not to move.

Bakugou: 𝚆𝚎’𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕, 𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚛𝚢.

Me: 𝙸𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐? (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞

Bakugou: 𝙽𝚘, 𝚜𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚍. 𝙸𝚍𝚒𝚘𝚝 𝚔𝚒𝚍.

You giggled before rushing to the cable car section. Of course, he doesn’t use emojis. 

You were glad it was a weekday, which meant the cable cars were free and you could literally hop on one before heading up to the Headland. Sighing, you sat inside the cable car and waited, wondering about Bakugou the entire time.

It was all true. You could have told Bakugou you liked him back then but chose not to. You didn’t know why, but some part of you wanted to get over him and not face rejection. There were many signs that showed he had an interest in you as well, but you assumed it was mainly because he knew you just as much as he knew Izuku. You got over your crush in less than a year—you even dated Monoma after that for a whole year! And after that ended badly, you decided you’d not date anyone in your close circle.

But, each time you did think of Bakugou, you felt sad. Almost as if you let something go—you barely knew him too well when you liked him, but there were things about him that were so attractive. He was focused and had his way with the reptiles. You’ve watched him with them, he wasn’t his usual loud and abrasive self. He cared for the reptiles and treated them all like children, despite reptiles being hated by so many for being physically repulsive. You wouldn’t deny it, you hated reptiles before Bakugou explained them to you.

They’re just misunderstood, he’d say.

You gulped when you thought of how you could apply his words for him as well. For the most part, Bakugou was misunderstood, and it was no fault of his. He was loud, true, and could be intimidating, for sure—but, he was kind and you had seen it and experienced it first hand.

Now, when you came to think of it, you couldn’t see why you never told him. And to think he knew about it—that shocked you more. He knew you liked him, and never told him, you only wondered what he thought of you. 

Did he wonder why you never told him?

Did he... you gulped, Did he also...?

You shook your head before thinking of such things. 

On reaching the Headland, you sighed before looking down at the 10-minute walk to the amusement park. You shot Bakugou a message saying you’d reached the Headland, asking him about his whereabouts.

Bakugou: 𝚂𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐.

Me: 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍. 𝙸 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚔𝚒𝚍𝚜! (￢‿￢ )

Bakugou: 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚎.

You froze. 

Your fingers were itching to type something in response to that, but you shoved your phone inside your pocket and made your way to the amusement park. You knew the entire theme park like the back of your hand, so what would normally take you 10 minutes, took you 4. You weren’t sprinting, but you were eager to see Bakugou more than ever before.

He wasn’t working, which meant he would have to be in civilian clothes. He walked out of a party or whatever it was, without saying a word—very unlike him to call Midoriya as Midoriya and not Deku, and it was very, very odd for Bakugou to say what he had just said.

For some strange reason, your heart was beating very fast. Suddenly, it felt like you had two hearts palpitating instead of one—your nervousness was profound. 

It had been years since you had seen Bakugou alone without anyone else. It was a strange thing to think about when you were going to meet him alone, but it shocked you, too. You hadn’t been alone with Bakugou in more than 8 years almost, you were always with your friends or he was with Kirishima. 

And the last time you were alone, you had a huge, huge, huge crush on him.

You spotted Bakugou sitting across a small child with brown hair. You sighed in relief when your eyes landed on him, but a second later, his eyes met yours—almost as if he knew you were there. You froze where you stood; suddenly, Bakugou was a remedy for heart palpitations. Or he made them worse. You couldn’t tell.

You walked over there and double-checked if the girl was the missing Mimi. It was.

     “Mimi-chan,” you voiced, your heart still beating frantically, “Your mother is looking everywhere for you! She was so worried. What happened?”

     “I wanted to see the cable cars...” She said, guiltily. 

You sighed before placing a calm hand on her shoulder. 

     “Once you’re finished with your food, let’s go to your mother?”

She nodded happily and pointed to Bakugou, who was quietly sitting across her.

     “Baku-san’s very nice! He bought me popcorn and cotton candy!”

You looked to Baku-san with amused eyes, “Baku-san sure is something else, isn’t he?”

Bakugou blushed with embarrassment, a very evident frown on his face.

     “Baku-san’s the best!” Mimi exclaimed, causing you to giggle.

     “He sure is—”

     “Stop talking about me like I’m not here, you stupid extras!”

A second later, you shot a text to Izuku saying the girl was found. Midoriya instantly called you.

     “She’s fine, Izuku-kun. Is her mother there with you?”

     “Can you stay put there? Her mother and I are coming to you.”

You blinked, turning to Bakugou, “Uh, I can bring her to you—” Bakugou’s hand grabbed your wrist, shocking you to stillness. 

     “Stay here.”

Your eyes widened at his words, such a confusing change of behavior. You blinked twice before trying to figure out what to do.

     “Alright, Izuku-kun. I’ll be here. We’re at the roller coaster food trailer.”

     “Okay!”

Once the call was done, you turned to Bakugou with a scowl. You wanted an explanation. You pulled her hand away from his grasp before turning to Mimi, who was concentrating on her food. Plopping beside Bakugou, whose facial expression was currently null, you hit him across his arm.

     “What the fuck is going on?”

You never swore, but on the rare occasions that you did, Bakugou was always amused. You heard him chuckle. You hit him across his arm again.

     “You’re not acting yourself, Bakugou! What is going on?”

It wasn’t like him to beat around the bush. Bakugou’s firecracker personality didn’t make a lot of people like him, but that was the one thing you admired. Sure, the two of your relationship dwindled after school but that didn’t mean you hated him. You two drifted apart, and that was as natural as anything else. 

     “Why are you so fucking annoying, (y/n)?” He asked, not looking at you.

     “What is that supposed to mean?”

     “You...” He shook his head, trying to find the right words, “You fucked things up.”

Your heart fell at his words. Fucked things up? What did he even mean?

     “What did I even do? You aren’t being clear here—”

     “Why didn’t you tell me?” You barely heard him but you managed to understand what he said.

     “Tell you... what?”

Bakugou turned to look at you with a ‘really?’ expression. His red eyes were literally piercing into your soul. You had to gulp before even trying to answer.

     “Oh...” 

He chuckled before turning away, “Yeah.”

You two sat there, not saying a word. Your heart was beating so fast, you could feel the blood rushing to your ears. 

     “But, why does that matter now? I mean, it’s been 8 years, Bakugou...” 

     “And not once in these 8 years did you think I deserved to know?” Bakugou asked, and you had no idea why his words pierced you.

You almost winced at the way his words sounded. He was stoic, but it was unusual. 

     “I didn’t think you’d like me back. It seemed like you hated me. It seemed like you hated everyone. I couldn’t approach you—”

     “I didn’t fucking hate you, (y/n). Fuck, I...” He cursed under his breath, “I really thought you of all people knew me better.”

Your eyes widened and you turned to look at him avoiding your gaze. Your hand reached out to his, but he pulled his hand away before you could even graze your fingers against him.

     “Bakugou—”

He turned to the girl, Mimi, who had finished eating by then. 

     “You done, kid?”

She nodded happily before Bakugou stood up. 

     “I’m going to the roller coaster. When you’re done handing her over, come see me,” He turned to you before deadpanning at you, “We’re not done talking.”

You nodded. It was so unlike him, but you knew you had to get things over with. It was 8 years overdue.

     “Why did you take a leave today—”

Bakugou was already several feet away. You sighed before turning to the girl and smiling. A few minutes later, Midoriya and her mother came over. Mimi hugged her mother before waving goodbye at you and Izuku. You sighed for the thousandth time, before turning to Izuku.

     “Say, Izuku-kun,” You struggled to find the right words, “Do you think I should have told Bakugou about liking him?”

Izuku hummed, “I think if you have a crush on someone, they deserve to know. I mean... I’d have felt bad if Uraraka-san never told me that she liked me. She did and it didn’t work out after, but I’m glad she was honest.”

You stayed quiet. “Do you think Bakugou feels bad I was never honest with him?”

     “Anyone would, really. But, if you ask me,” Izuku looked at you with a calm smile, “I think Kacchan is hurt not because you weren’t honest with him. Everyone knows he struggles with expressing his own emotions. He won’t hold it against someone for struggling in the same way.”

You blinked, what Izuku said made sense. But, then why was Bakugou hurt?

     “Then why is he...?”

Oh. 

Izuku chuckled, “I think you know the answer, (y/n)-chan.”

You could barely breathe. There was more than one type of guilt. You might do something horrible that you later regretted. But you could also feel guilty for something you'd not done. By not telling Bakugou you liked him, you robbed him of a chance to respond; you robbed him of a chance for a confession, you knew he could have done so himself if he wanted to, but that was something you knew now, and not before. You robbed Bakugou a chance of experiencing something for the first time, and you robbed him of a chance to grow up not wondering, ‘Am I not worth liking?’

Oh God, you thought, feeling fresh tears strike your eyes. What if he thinks...? 

What if he thinks he doesn’t deserve it?

What if he spent all these years thinking he doesn’t deserve it?

You brought a shaky hand to your mouth before turning to Izuku. He merely smiled at you, patting your shoulder twice.

     “Don’t overthink it,” He suggested, “Kacchan’s a lot more complex than people give him credit for.”

You knew all this. You knew how he was always misunderstood. You urged people to give him a chance, despite pretending all this while to hate him. You were aware that he had difficulty expressing his emotions, but you also knew that didn’t mean he didn’t have emotions, to begin with.

If Bakugou knew you liked him and did everything you could to get over him, if he knew just this fact and especially if it didn’t come from you, then he must believe that you hated it the whole time.

You needed to rectify this. You needed to let him know that you didn’t tell him because you were scared. You needed to tell him that he’s worthy of those feelings, that he has nothing on him that can even be considered repulsive. You knew of his internal struggles, you knew how hard he worked, even in college. You knew he was focused, driven, arrogant—only because he wanted to be a better person, a better adult, a better human being.

And you had denied him, despite knowing it all, of a chance to grow romantically.

You could still argue on why Bakugou never confessed to you if he liked you back. But, the problem was a lot bigger than just him liking you back or not. The problem was you never having told him yourself. The problem was him believing you didn’t want to. 

     “Izuku-kun, can you ask someone to take over for me?” You were glad you were wearing a tank top underneath the Ocean World uniform.

Midoriya’s eyes widened as you handed him your uniform.

     “W-Where—”

     “Just take this and put it in my locker. You know my combination, right?”

Izuku nodded, “Yeah—”

     “I need to rectify something I should have done 8 years ago, Izuku-kun, so, please. Do me this favor, okay?”

Izuku nodded before smiling at you. You loved this boy, he was just so precious. You leaned forward and kissed his cheek, earning a chuckle from him.

     “Are you going to tell him?”

     “Oh, yeah.”

As soon as Izuku walked away, you turned to the roller coaster and rushed over there. You spotted Bakugou, using his phone, leaning against the counter. The roller coaster was apparently the scariest rollercoaster in all of Asia. While you hated rollercoasters with your life, you also knew Bakugou loved them. He loved anything that involved adrenaline, so you had something in mind.

     “Baku-san!” You teased, before making Bakugou scowl at you.

     “Don’t call me that, idiot.”

     “Don’t call me idiot, idiot.”

You grabbed his hand before leading him to the ticket counter. Bakugou’s eyes widened before you rushed to the rollercoaster’s waiting line. You two worked there, you didn’t need tickets.

     “What the fuck—Hey! I thought you hated—”

     “Oh, yeah, I hate them. I might grab on to your hand and squeeze the life out of them so, just take it.”

Bakugou blinked before being violently pulled into the rollercoaster’s first car. You gulped before feeling your entire body tremble, grasping Bakugou’s hand as tightly as you could.

     “(y/n), you’re literally shaking.”

     “Shut up. If we’re dying, at least we’re dying together.”

You heard him chuckle once just as the rollercoaster began to move. You squeaked before tightening your grip against his hand, only to have Bakugou hold your hand in return. You wanted to appreciate this gesture, but you were scared shitless. Just as the coaster moved, you screamed—you screamed, screamed and screamed some more—before you stopped screaming.

     “Oi—”

You were about to faint.

    “(y/n)—”

    “We are so dead—”

A minute of death later, the rollercoaster stopped. Bakugou helped you out, pulling you to a standing position. Your hands, legs and your lips were quivering, causing Bakugou to fall into a fit of laughter. You knew the adrenaline made him laugh and not to mention, your scared face.

     “S-stop l-laughing, I-I was r-really—”

     “Why did you do it?”

You looked him straight in the eye and frowned. Your frown deepened when you noticed his smirk increase.

     “Let’s go. I want to see the dolphins,”

Bakugou looked at you from the corner of his eye.

     “I really like dolphins. I especially miss Kiro and Soma, they were lovely. Not to mention, Tama the seal. She’s adorable! Did you know she loves mackerel the most? I mean—”

     “(y/n), you’re nervous.” 

You shook your head, “I mean, Tama’s the nicest seal too! She loves when you put her in those cute little—”

     “You definitely are. You talk a lot when you’re nervous.”

You could feel your heartbeat in literally every part of your body. You didn’t know why.

     “No, I don’t. I was just talking to you about—”

     “Do I make you nervous?” You could practically hear the smirk from Bakugou at this point.

     “No. I’m not nervous, Bakugou.”

     “You’re trembling.”

You hated how perceptive this douchebag was. 

     “I’m cold and I almost just died.”

Bakugou laughed before noticing your hands were still connected. He didn’t say a word and walked ahead, your linked hands still linked. You tightened your grasp, looking over to him and blinking a few times, expecting some response. When you felt him tighten his grasp as well, your heart skipped a beat.

     “Yeah, I noticed.”

When you reached the open auditorium where the dolphin show was happening, you noticed Tsuyu and your temporary replacement, Iida Tenya, perform a different skit. You smiled when you saw your animal friends, your hands still linked with Bakugou’s.

     “Bakugou?”

When you didn’t hear him say anything, you assumed it was safe to talk.

     “Can I call you Katsuki?”

He turned to look at you once, before nodding. He noticed how you weren’t meeting his gaze, and he knew he had to say something before things escalated.

     “Listen, you don’t have to do this shit just because—”

     “Just because of what? I see what I did wrong, and I... I regret it.”

     “(y/n)...”

You turned to him now with pleading eyes, “No! I have to do this—”

     “This isn’t the time or place for—”

     “Then take me somewhere you want to, wherever you think is appropriate. If I don’t do this now, I... I’ll live with regret all over again, and I don’t want to do that. Katsuki,” You didn’t notice how his face reddened when you called him that, “I was so wrong in not telling you how I felt. I was so wrong, I wish I could go back in time and tell you back then how much I—”

     “(y/n), I’m in love with you,” Katsuki said, with a straight face.

Your eyes widened. 

     “Have been. For years. It sounds like a fuck-all cliche, but it’s a fucking pain. And when I got to know you liked me back in school, I knew I should have fucking said something. But, I’m like this,” he gestured to himself, “And you’re you.”

     “What is that supposed to mean?”

Bakugou groaned, “It means, we’re not compatible.”

     “And who made that fucked up assertion?”

Bakugou tried to let go of your hand, but you held on tighter than ever before.

     “For the last time, Katsuki, tell me what the fuck is on your mind or I swear to fucking hell I’ll never know.”

Katsuki took a moment. He was frowning at you, but you knew it wasn’t at you but at the thoughts, he was currently having. He took a deep breath before composing himself. 

     “I can’t give you what you want,” He brushed a hand through his hair and, “I’m not... I’m not boyfriend-material. I can’t be nice, I can’t be romantic for shit, I can’t surprise you, I can’t compliment you, I can’t—”

     “And all of those things, you did today. In a single day.”

Katsuki’s eyes widened.

     “What?”

You nodded, “You can’t be nice? You bought a random little girl some food and made sure she stopped crying to the best of your abilities. Boom, next. Can’t be romantic? You held my hand all through the rollercoaster ride despite finding it hilarious. Boom, next. You can’t surprise me? You gave me a hell of a shocker by even saying you’re in love with me and practically everything you did today is a goddamn surprise, so boom! Next,”

You stepped closer to Bakugou, your hands still in his. You noticed his grasp on your fingers was loose, and you used this opportunity to play with his hands. 

     “You can’t compliment me? You told me you love me, Katsuki. That’s the biggest compliment anyone can ever give me.”

Katsuki just stared at you, blankly. 

     “You’re a fucking idiot.”

You giggled before leaning down and placing your forehead on his chest. Bakugou’s hand wrapped around the nape of your neck, and he leaned against the pillar by which he was standing. 

Suddenly, a thought entered your head. Leaning back, you looked at Bakugou with a confused expression.

     “What?”

     “Do you have anything to do with Mineta quitting?”

Katsuki scoffed. He didn’t say a word and just leaned back, eyes closed. You quietly placed your forehead back on his chest and sighed, wrapping one arm around his waist.

     “I guess I have my answer.”

A few minutes later, you led Bakugou out of the open auditorium, hands still connected. 

     “Katsuki,” He didn’t say anything. “So, you love me? Like, love me love me?”

You could practically see how the cringe form in his face, making your smile grow in response. 

     “I take it back.” He snapped, grumbling.

You giggled before leaning closer to him, hands still connected, “No.”

Bakugou raised an eyebrow, “No, I can’t take it back or no, you don’t... You don’t feel...?”

He felt like an idiot even saying it. He could feel something sink inside of him. He guessed it was his dignity. He placed his hand to cover his jaw, in an attempt to cover the redness in his face.

Your fingers wrap around his fingers and you pull his hands from his jaw so he can look at you, or you guessed, so you can look at him.

     “No, you can’t take it back, silly.” You said in a voice so deep and warm and full of things that Bakugou couldn’t get mad anymore. 

This has to be what people mean when they say they “melted.” Bakugou would never admit he felt this way.

Bakugou gulped. He couldn’t look away from your amused expression. Your eyes were so deep and warm at the same time, just looking at him and nothing else. Right then, Katsuki wondered how could a person’s eyes be so ridiculously gorgeous and enchanting and so full of things he desperately wanted to know.

     “So, what’s your answer?” He almost whispered, afraid he might screw it all up.

Those eyes of yours widen a little bit. You hold your breath. You lean forward, standing on your tip-toes, feeling the confidence come from who knows where and fan your lips over his.

     “I like you, Katsuki,” you say and close the gap instantly.

❞

[caltropspress]

FEEDBACK LOOP #7: Curly Castro’s “Weapon 13X” featuring Breeze Brewin

There was a very old man, an old white man out in the crowd, and he started screaming and crying like a baby and he kept crying and he said, “God damn, God damn, what is this God damn country coming to that the niggers have got guns, the niggers are armed and the police can’t even arrest them!” He kept crying and somebody led him away through the crowd.

—Robert F. Williams, Negroes with Guns (1962)

Gun flash beats the child’s head in, maniac teeth dance in a bloody grin blue lies, badge confessions, yng dude dead just beyond his mama’s arms

—Amiri Baraka, “Stop Killer Cops”

Police said Cleaver and Hutton were holed up at 1218 28th Street with two 9 mm automatic pistols, two AR-15 and one military-type M-14 automatic rifle, and a large supply of ammunition, some armor-piercing.

—Berkeley Barb, Volume 6, Number 15, Issue 139

1.

“Weapon 13X” is a diptych. Two verses; one pivot—or volta, for you bookworms. Curly Castro is first with a séance that summons the mysteries of Clarence 13X and Weapon X. These nullified variables and Roman numerals come together in an elixir mix so potent that it would make Aes Rock choke on the amalgam. Castro opens the fission gate and discharges two-hundred forty thousand mega-therms on the city of brotherly love, the city of bombs from above onto a 6221 Osage Avenue row house. Shameek just got bust in his arm, leg, leg, arm, head. The Black man is God personified, and Logan is regenerative. Adamantium claws. Mathematical jaws. Science dropped and experiments performed. Spark this like metal does when dragged across concrete.

2.  “Harriet would grab her balls, / This my gun, and this my rifle.”

Harriet Tubman gets cast by Kubrick for Full Metal Jacket, recites the Rifleman’s Creed, but it was actually a pistol she kept buried within the folds of her calico. She sallied forth seeing visions from the overseer’s heave of a weight—made her skull snap. Don’t sleep. “When the caliber’s inside you,” you can’t necessarily count on “the muzzle smoke revival.”

3.

Quelle Chris provides production, lest we forget his 2019 Guns album with its Dada-bullet, double-barreled barrage album art. The title track armed to the teeth: “Ain’t no cracking that code, / Ain’t no safety on locks, / Might as well get you one, / Procrastinating will get you popped.” The machine gun funk outs finks and COINTELPRO cooperators, conspirators, dispiriters. Here, Castro’s got those same turncoats and sucker MCs in his sights, so to speak.

4.  [The oppressor] teaches the Negro that he has no worth-while past, that his race has done nothing significant since the beginning of time, and that there is no evidence that he will ever achieve anything great. (Carter Godwin Woodson, The Mis-Education of the Negro, 1933)

Castro makes a promise, provoked by those who came before him, those who brandished firearms in the faces of their enemies:

We never will disarm: these are the lies that you were sold, When your glory tripped up, you trade your weapons in for gold. With Yakub in the schools, trade your dreams, knowledge folds. Found the tome, Mis-Education Negroes…

Dr. Yakub sloshing liquids in the lab—Bunsen burners explode and the lab leak is viral whiteness. Tricknology replaces Biology. Castro is looking back while moving forward. “Doomed to repeat it”-type forewarnings. He knows the ledge and also wants his people to.

5.

aim     get your sights & its sound in abstract or journal movements to a peace settlement

dude shot my man

dead,          precious lord blow off theres no willy in th blues theres no you.

—from Tom Weatherly’s Maumau American Cantos (1970)

Castro is a “gunhand, cybernetic with spray cans, / Basquiat, baklava, Mau Mau.” That’s likely an intentional malaprop—surely his militant stance calls for a balaclava. Even still, Castro doesn’t stutter. He will still sh-sh-shift his voice on you—the dynamics of his delivery raise stakes and get guttural, scraping against sewer plates. He’s potent, even if Basquiat’s pistol appears flaccid with its hand-scrawled linework. In another piece, Basquiat starts the decolonization process at the point of a safari helmet. The image detonates.  

6.  Free country? Man, I should fuck you up for sayin’ that stupid shit alone.

“This film is a call to racial violence!” a film critic shouted at Roger Ebert after a screening of Do the Right Thing. She worried Bed-Stuy would set fire to theaters, but Lee’s 1989 film wasn’t The Rite of Spring in Paris in 1913. An amerikan psychotic turn to theater violence would be postponed until Aurora in 2012, and it would be white violence, which would come as a shock to none who have tracked the trajectory of white violence. Displacement is white violence, too. White violence is a sine qua non for gentrification. And so Castro allies himself with “Buggin’ Out battle brownstone houses, some Bird fans, / While Mookie turns the radio up and launched the trashcan.”

7.  “We are the weapons.”

Of late, Castro has consistently been proving you’re out your depth, with verses so allusive they suggest a strong “Erick Sermon and Parrish Smith, nobody blink. / They don’t now who the fuck that is” vibe. So what, though? At this point, Castro’s a vet, an elder. The youngins need to catch up or cash out. Get KRS-One bookish, kiddies, or be left behind. Be the weapon or never prosper. Create your own mythos: “Omega built a mother by the sun and Cyclops sent / a blurred Baraka poem capable to raise the dead. / Yet instead I use the sword...”—with Wu-Tang pronunciation of the w in “sword,” of course. History moves backwards and forwards at the same time. Language is lost and recovered. The poem is “blurred” because it’s been duplicated on a mimeograph—a machine that involves a “drum.” The words are ink-smudged. Baraka’s former partner, Diane di Prima, shouted, “"Power to the people's mimeo machines!” Accuse and attack, Baraka sloganeered. We’re talking about agency—by hand-crank, handgun, or mic check.

8.

Castro creates imagery like Emory Douglas did with paint: painfully bold and saturated with color like blood soaks clothes. Baraka called Douglas’s art a combo of “expressionist agitprop and homeboy familiarity,” which applies to what Castro does on the track. I quote Mao who called literature and art “part of the whole proletarian revolutionary cause,” and Mao quotes Lenin who called lit and art the “cogs and wheels in the whole revolutionary machine.” And Baraka also said Douglas’s work:

functioned as if you were in the middle of a rumble and somebody tossed you a machine pistol. It armed your mind and demeanor. Ruthlessly funny, but at the same time functional as the .45 slugs pouring out of that weapon.

The Panthers were trapped and tear-gassed in a West Oakland basement. Eldridge Cleaver told Bobby to go out naked—unarmed as the day he was born not quite eighteen years earlier—but he emerged from the burning house fully dressed, with dignity, and he was searchlighted and shotshotshotshotshotshotshot dead.

Castro needs Brewin to make the cypher complete—a two-man killarmy using loud words in quiet wars, no silencer.

9.  “Before blurting out, try analysis, brother.”

Breeze’s Yo, listen… at the start of his verse is comparable to Sir Thomas Wyatt intoning Whoso list to hunt… to begin his 16th-century sonnet. The amalgam here is less Five Percenter plus clandestine government experimentation and more a deconstruction of the both violent and sexualized language of braggadocio. “Anything you say isn’t played like Miranda Rights,” and so we’re already with our hands behind our backs, silenced by an pig officer’s gag order. The competition doesn’t get played; they play themselves.

Sir Thomas Wyatt sets it off like so:

Whoso list to hunt, I know where is an hind, But as for me, hélas, I may no more. The vain travail hath wearied me so sore, I am of them that farthest cometh behind. Yet may I by no means my wearied mind Draw from the deer, but as she fleeth afore Fainting I follow.

Breeze has wanted to stay pleasant to the ears—you know, like Lauryn Hill phone sexing—so this isn’t new territory but rather a well-worn path. Wyatt’s wearied and “so sore” by “the hunt,” the pursuit of his love interest, even though he knows “where is an hind.” Still, “as she fleeth afore / Fainting [he] follows.” He can’t help himself.

Love is lost within violent pursuit. Breeze speaks of a “plan to strike” and “zero in” on a “target,” his quarry. He and Castro are “talking about broads often, no doubt, / We broad and burly as hell, / Brag about the hunt, you was jukin’ a girly gazelle.” Breeze’s assault is dizzying, a salvo from all angles: “Hit ’em with some counter clay rebuttals that’s subtle but still befuddle if dude slow.”

10.  “It’s nothin’, I gotcha, and that’s word to Super Lover Cee.”

Super Lover Cee and Casanova Rud’s 1988 single “Girls I Got ’Em Locked” articulates the carceral embrace of “locking” a girl down, which—consequently—requires violence to enforce: “Don’t ever touch a girl owned by me or I’ll ruin ya’, / Slap you with my mic simultaneously as I’m doin’ ya.” The girl is commodified, and Super Lover Cee takes a proprietary attitude toward the relationship. If you overstep, you’ll be ruined, that is, you’ll fall. And while you’re prostrate, you’ll be slapped with the phallic mic simultaneously. Is the Super Lover doin’ her or you, though? What’s truly getting him off? That hypermasculine posturing skews homoerotic. Breeze Brewin laughs at you for subscribing to the nonsense: “Dag, if that was what you believe then your world be a hell.”

11.

Liberal discourse suggests policing your impulses. Put down the gun—don’t touch it. “Touchy subjects,” like racism (apparently), get the “We need to have a conversation” treatment. Look, don’t touch. Don’t touch the exhibit of stolen artifacts—those Benin bronzes in the British Museum. Beneath the topic of orignoo gunn clapping, Curly Castro’s track is about the x’s and o’s of eros as well. Many gestures meant to protect women are merely some other man staking his claim, adorning her with “diamonds in letters plain,” as Wyatt writes of the collar around the deer’s “fair neck.” Wyatt’s sonnet warns against overstepping (or even half-stepping). The collar reads Noli me tangere (touch me not)—she belongs to someone else. It’s a bad touch example. Like his fellow Indelible J-Treds, Breeze Brewin is the living circle-circle-dot-dot: nobody can touch him.

12.

Let’s bring it back to Little Bobby Hutton. When Eldridge Cleaver told him to leave the ambushed basement naked, he was thinking of Bobby’s safety. He thought the extreme measure of appearing on the street without clothes would be enough to convince the pigs he wasn’t armed. Cleaver was naïve to think so. Bobby Hutton was right to emerge clothed. In doing so, he rejected the indignity of the auction block, the lynching, the mutilation and spreading of souvenir flesh. The searchlight made Bobby Hutton the subject of a spectacle, yes, but he refused to consent to the psychosexual desires of white supremacy. He refused the castration ritual. Little Bobby Hutton, in effect, threw down a challenge to the cops: Use your imagination once again. Try to think of a few situations where your own weapon might be used against you…used against you…used against you.

Images:

Emory Douglas, The Black Panther, Vol. IV, No. 78, 1971 (detail) | Weapon X (detail, issue unknown) | Emory Douglas, Rat Subterranean News (1970) | Harriet Tubman with gun sketch | Anti-Mau Mau British propaganda poster | Newspaper headline from Negroes with Guns | Jean-Michel Basquiat, Untitled (date unknown) | Jean-Michel Basquiat, Native Carrying Some Guns, Bibles, and Amorites on Safari (1982) | Screenshot from Spike Lee’s Do the Right Thing (1989) | Two images from the Berkeley Barb, Volume 6, Number 15, Issue 139 (1968) | Emory Douglas, The Black Panther (miscellaneous poster) | Medieval depiction of the hunt (unknown) | Image detail from the Berkeley Barb, Volume 6, Number 15, Issue 139 (1968)

[thephoenixdescendant]

I had this idea in my mind yesterday about what would would happen if the BF5's S/O got harassed in public. What would the BF5 do? And what would they do to cheer their S/O up?

Vert Wheeler

If he see's S/0 getting harassed by a douchebag, he would lose his control.

He would walk upto him and punch him in his face multiple times. Then starts beating the crap out of him, in front of the people around him.

He doesn't care if the cops arrest him. He wants S/O to be safe.

S/O is the type of girl/guy who is tough on the outside, but soft on the inside. S/O might look like she/he doesn't give a damn about what would happen to the guy who harassed him/her, but actually S/O is freaking out on the inside.

It's really hard to pull Vert away from the other guy. Vert is way stronger than S/O. It takes multiple people to pull Vert away.

When the fight is over, Vert might be covered in blood and bruises caused by the other guy. But it's nothing compared to what Vert gave to him.

When Vert calms down he runs upto S/O and gives him/her a passionate kiss and says "I love you" multiple times.

When they go home, Vert will immediately get patched up by going to Sage. He will also ask S/O if he touched her/him anywhere. If he did, he will be hunted down...

S/O is a bit shaken after the incident, so to cheer him/her up, Vert would watch a movie with him/her that day with ice cream, popcorn, candy etc.

After watching the movie, they would snuggle and give little kisses to each other.

Agura Ibaden

S/O is a tough girl/guy. So when somebody harasses her/him, she/he knows how to talk back and how to fight. But sometimes she/he needs help.

If Agura sees someone harrasing S/O, she would walk up to that person and talks brutal things about him.

Agura knows how to shut a guy/girl up. It's one of her many talents. If didn't work, then she is forced to beat them up.

But 99% of the time, Agura wins.

S/O would give Agura a kiss and both of them goes back to the base as if nothing happened.

They would train on the tracks with the others to forget about the incident and then goes to Zeke's diner to have a large pepperoni pizza.

The whole day, Agura would talk sassy to the others, just to make S/O laugh.

Zoom Takazeumi

S/O knows self defense, as Zoom trained her/him when they started dating.

But, S/O is a soft girl/guy. She/He doesn't know how to talk back to someone when they harass her/him.

S/O would be in tears when someone harasses her/him.

If Zoom see's S/O crying because someone harasses her/him, he would go behind the person who harassed S/O without making any sounds.

He pulls that person into a dark room, beating the crap out of him

When someone turns on the lights, the would see the guy on the floor, unconscious and covered in bruises.

S/O is so horrified about what happened that she/he couldn't stop crying.

He would buy S/O ice cream, candies and a bouquet of flowers to cheer her/him up.

When they get back to the base, Zoom would crack jokes all the time to make S/O happy again.

Sherman Cortez

When Sherman see's S/O being harassed by someone, he would shout at him and punch him multiple times.

After the guy is beaten up, Sherman would run up to S/O and hugs her/him.

Sherman would pick S/O up and carry her/him over his shoulder and walks away from that guy so that nothing serious happens.

S/O is a bit shaken up after the incident.

To make S/O cheer up, Sherman would travel with her/him to a secured zone and spends time by snuggling and talking about how grateful he is to get a wonderful S/O.

Spinner Cortez

Both Spinner and S/O don't really go out because they are gaming most of the time.

S/O is always getting bullied by toxic players in Zoit Thrashers, even though how many improvements she/he has made for 3 years, all the toxic players still critisize her/she for 'Poor' gameplay.

Spinner knows that S/O have done nothing wrong and she/he is being an excellent player, so to shut the toxic players up, Spinner would talk trash to them back.

Spinner is one of the MVP's of Zoit Thrashers. He's well respected by the community. If Spinner says something bad about a player, they will grieve about it for months.

If the player is not affected by his words, the creators of the game will suspend their account for a month.

Spinner will buy S/O more video games and the latest consoles to cheer her/him up. Along with hugs and kisses.

Stanford Isaac Rhodes IV

Stanford is from the royal family, so he is loaded.

S/O will get bullied because people think she/he is dating Stanford because S/O is after his money

Stanford would take S/O to clubs often, he is well known and when people there see her/him, will get harassed by someone.

Stanford will be so angry that he would turn the music off and call out the person who harassed S/O by grabbing a mic and standing in front of the stage, trash talking.

He would embarrass that person so hard that he would end up running out of the club cursing under his breath. He can't attack Stanford because he is a prince.

After that Stanford would walk up to S/O, grab her/him by the waist and passionately kiss her/him in front of the others.

He would cheer S/O up by singing a song that he wrote for her/him during his spare time.

Tezz Volitov

He only goes out when both him and S/O are having a date night. Other than that, he'll stay at the base working on his car.

Harassment happens to S/O when she goes with Tezz for date night.

It happens when Tezz goes to the bathroom and all of a sudden a guy comes up to S/O and mocks her/him for dating a guy who looks like he's in his forties. (I've read from a website that Tezz is 45 years old.)

S/O is exactly like Tezz. She/He would talk back to him. But that guy wouldn't give up.

When Tezz see's S/O being harassed, he would activate his gloves, (which he carries around just in case) and electrocutes him when no one is looking.

That man will fall down, unconscious and Tezz would pull S/O away to the car park to get out.

He would apologize to her/him a million times and then takes her/him to the beach to enjoy the view.

He would tell S/O how much he loves her/him and both Tezz and S/O ends up making out.

AJ Dalton

Harassment happens when he takes S/O to trips at crowded areas.

AJ is very active, and when he sees a fun challenge or activity, he would run over there, grabbing S/O by her/his arms to join.

S/O loves a good challenge. But when she/he messes up, there is always someone who mocks her/him.

AJ always has a smile on his face, but it fades when he see's S/O being harassed.

He would never hesitate to beat the guy in middle of what AJ's doing.

Just like Vert does, he would punch his face multiple times and beats the crap out of him in front of the people.

S/O would also join in for the fight as well.

After beating him, Both AJ and S/O would leave to the base.

For cheering S/O up, AJ would take her/him to Zeke's and order's a large pepperoni pizza and 2 large cups of coke. After that, a huge tub of ice cream just for S/O and snuggles!