#in fact I spend each year deliberately avoiding eye contact with it

[muzzlemouths]

I SEE MORE ART ON THE CANVASES. thank you to everyone who snuck those in last night :3 they were a delight to wake up to!

I'm going to post the canvases here once I best figure out how/if I'm going to crop them. and also when I figure out how to tag everyone without tumblr throwing a massive tantrum about it.

IF you would not like your artwork to be included/posted please let me know so I can exclude it!

Thank you again to everyone who joined, made a contribution to the canvases, or even just sent in some birthday wishes. You've truly made the day unforgettable 💕

[dearkusuo]

Ch. 2 ☆ Last Christmas

Synopsis: You were intent on avoiding your ex-boyfriend all of winter break, however, your mom and her best friend had other plans lined up for you.

Pairing: Saiki Kusuo x reader

Tags: college au, fluff, angst

Word Count: 1.7k

m.list ▪︎▪︎▪︎ 1 ▪︎▪︎▪︎ 2 ▪︎▪︎▪︎ 3

"Wake up," a hazy voice made its way through your eardrums. Your body refused to respond despite the nagging tone roaring at you to come back from your dreamscape. You croaked out an incoherent mumble, shifting around unconsciously on your bed. A soft click resounded as your bedroom lights were switched on, causing you to grimace uncomfortably at the sudden brightness.

"Don't you think it's time for you to get out of bed?"

It took you a minute to register your mother's words as grogginess slowly faded from your half-woken state.

"Why don't you ever let me sleep in?" you grumbled.

"It's already noon."

"So what?" you yawned, sitting up with your arms stretching out.

“Get up,” your mother sang cheerily. "We're going to decorate Kurumi's house for the party."

Your eyes heavily blinked a few times and your head tilted to one side, hoping that you heard her wrong. The last you checked, your neighbours’ halls were decked and loaded enough to practically be Santa’s workshop.

"I don't think they need any more decorations," you retorted.

"But we don’t think it’s festive enough," your mother explained.

You crossed your arms, eyebrows knitting together. Of course they would find an excuse to make things more over the top. Still, you knew better than to waste your breath in arguing against their logic.

“Don’t you have to go to work?” you remarked sharply.

“I took the rest of the month off so we could plan for the party.”

A frustrated groan hit your throat as your head fell back to face the ceiling.

“Why are you acting so disappointed?” your mother snarked while she forcefully dragged you out of bed, pushing you to get ready and leaving you alone in your room.

“Wear something nice okay? Kusuo is gonna be there,” she commanded sternly, her voice muffled from the other side of the door.

You dug through your closet as your eyes rolled back. Why did it matter what he thought of how you looked? 

"You know we broke up a long time ago right?" you quipped, putting on a random outfit.

"I know," your mother replied.

"So why does it seem like you're forcing us to spend time together?"

You could almost imagine her batting her eyelashes at you, a widely innocent smile adorning her face as she said, “I don't know what you mean." You scoffed at her words as you stared at the mirror, fixing up your appearance.

She grabbed your wrist as soon as you left the room, dragging you along with her. Before you knew it, your mother was ringing the buzzer of your neighbour’s house while you both stood outside the gate. Mrs. Saiki happily welcomed you both into her home, quickly guiding you to the living room.

“You wanted more decorations?” you confirmed, gawking dubiously at the excessive embellishments around you.

Mrs. Saiki shared an obscure look with your mother, an ambiguous conversation passing between them. “Yes, that’s right,” your neighbour replied, “ I need this place to be even more festive for the party.”

You heard the patter of footsteps marching down the stairs. A familiar blond head popped into the room with a cheeky smile spread on his lips.

“Are we having guests right now?”

“Kuusuke, it’s so good to see you again,” your mother called out. The blond man walked up to you, giving you and your mother a quick greeting.

“Where’s Kuu-chan?” Mrs. Saiki inquired.

“I’m sure he’ll be down in a bit,” Kuusuke responded politely.

As if on cue, you picked up on the sound of another person descending from the second floor. Kusuo joined his brother, standing a foot away from him. His face remained blank as he skimmed the room before his eyes fell on your own. You shyly looked at the ground, eyeing the dark patterns of the wooden tiles. Your mother gushed heartily over him just as she did with his older brother.

“Oh, I just realized that I don’t have any more decorations for the party,” Mrs. Saiki gasped. Probably because she already used up all of it.

You turned to your mother, getting ready to call it a day so you could head back to bed, but the hand she placed on your shoulder halted you from making a move. 

“Why don’t you go to the mall and buy some?” she suggested with a suspicious grin she tried so obviously to hide.

You blinked at her, hoping that the subtle glare you gave her made it obvious that you were not in the mood to be granting any favours.

“Your dad took the car to work, so it’ll be more convenient for you since you can drive,” she pointed out.

“Will that be okay?” Mrs. Saiki asked.

You pursed your lips as you looked at her pleading face. She was too sweet that it was basically impossible for you to say no to her.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” you answered after a moment’s hesitation.

“That’s great,” she proclaimed as she smiled at you excitedly. “Kuu-chan, you should tag along,” she advised her youngest son. Kusuo didn’t say anything as he looked at his mom’s overjoyed expression. You hoped that he would have the courage to deny her request, just this one time.

Kusuo nodded once after shifting his gaze on your frame. You bit your lip, breaking eye contact with him again.

“Maybe I should go with them as well,” Kuusuke cut in.

The two women looked at each other, alarm written all over their faces. “You shouldn’t bother yourself with that,” Mrs. Saiki urged.

“No, this is nothing,” Kuusuke assured.

“Don’t you have work to do?” his mother mentioned, looking intently at him.

Kuusuke stared back at her in bewilderment for a quick second before his mouth popped open in realization. “That’s right, I have to do work. While I’m on vacation,” he laughed lightheartedly, “They’ll get the job done without me.”

The two women shared another glance, a wide beam on both their faces.

“Why do you guys keep looking at each other?” you wondered.

“That’s enough talking, both of you need to go,” your mother nervously giggled. She hastily pushed you out of the house with your ex-boyfriend, slamming the door shut behind you. 

Kusuo gazed at you expectantly when you peered at him, a silent pause falling between you two for a few seconds. You hurriedly turned away as you reluctantly led him to your car.

"What the hell is this?" you exclaimed, ogling the Elf on the Shelf figurine displayed on a table inside the store you occupied.

'Do they really want this?' Kusuo’s question rang in your mind as he held it up.

You shrugged lightly. “It’s clearly written in here," you uttered, pointing at the long list of items your mother texted to you. "Anyways, that's everything we need to buy. Let's get out of this place." You put your phone away, shoving your hands in your pockets.

A glimmer of white caught your attention from the corner of your eye as you searched for your wallet. Settled beside the spot where the elf doll used to be was a charming little snow globe. You picked it up, shaking its contents and observing the intricate design of the snowman and the floating snowflakes trapped in the glass.

"Remember that time when Kaidou and Nendou asked us to make a snowman with them?” you murmured.

'Don't remind me.'

“And you actually went with us even though you didn’t want to, because you thought something was gonna happen to them," you continued.

‘Better to be safe than sorry.’

"But they were actually just gonna put on an act," you snickered, "That was the dumbest thing I've ever heard." You smiled tenderly at the treasured memory as you put the globe down. A wave of nostalgia hit you at the thought of your high school days before your relationship went downhill. You looked away from Kusuo as you noticed the corners of his lips lifting the slightest bit.

Distractedly, you headed to the cash register to pay for the final item on your list.

'Oi.'

Kusuo grabbed your shoulder, pulling you to him. You barely had any time to react as a group of kids passed by you, yelling gleefully as they ran into the spot where you would have been had you not been yanked away.

'Watch where you're going,' Kusuo warned.

"Sorry," you mumbled, holding your breath anxiously. All at once, you were painfully aware of the arm that wrapped itself around you.

Kusuo dropped his hand from your shoulder, stepping back from you. A spark of electricity lingered from the loss of his touch.

The two of you stayed silent as you awkwardly turned away from him, paying for the little elf toy and exiting the store. You tried to stop thinking about his chest being pushed against you, mindful of the fact that he can read your mind.

Your mind wandered to anything that could distract you as you made it to the parking lot, unlocking your car with the push of a button. How you hated going Christmas shopping. How you hated that your mother was forcing you to go to her Christmas party. How your neighbours didn't even need more decorations. How Kusuo was so confusing sometimes. You stopped in your tracks.

Kusuo looked up at you curiously, waiting for you to speak your mind as you debated whether or not you should ask him what's been bothering you.

“The other day, what did you mean by, ‘that’s not the case’?” you demanded after a few seconds of deliberation.

He let out a soft snort. An eternity seemed to pass before he gave an answer, ‘You can’t possibly think that I ever stopped caring for you.’  His blank expression disappeared as his eyes burned into yours.

You gave him a disbelieving look as your shoulders tensed up. The words you’ve longed to hear for so long never felt so foreign, so incredulous. He clearly agreed with you when you thought it was best to end your relationship a year ago. So what was he doing sending you mixed signals now?

He let out a sigh. Kusuo left your side, taking his place on the passenger’s seat of your car. It took you a moment to come back to your senses as you robotically got on the driver's side, revving the engine to life.

You turned on the radio, hoping that the intrusion of noise would help to get rid of the tension between you two as a familiar tune by Wham blasted through your speakers. The station was set on playing holiday music, it seemed. The song you used to put on repeat last Christmas drowned out your thoughts.

[duskypinkbow]

All Love II Jeff Wittek

word count: 3k-ish (she a big baaaby)

summary: I got inspired by All Love by Fletcher... so I guess that explains it?...

note: English isn't my first language.. so plss excuse my mistakes ✨

tw: mention of drugs, drinking (tell me if there are more?)

Jeff’s and your story goes way back. Him being a friend of one of your older cousins, made his face a familiar one in your neighborhood. Although you didn’t see him very often nor interacted with him in any way, you knew who he was. You remembered his face, recognized his eyes and always reminded yourself of his beautiful smile. He was the barber boy from the shop across the street. The handsome guy from around the corner, involved in far too many erroneous decisions. You saw him cutting peoples hair, always admiring his work ethic at such a young age. You heard your cousin dropping his name in stories he told you and your siblings about stuff they did together, for which they did or did not get caught for. Jeff Wittek wasn’t a stranger to you, but you wouldn’t consider him a friend either. 

That changed when you reconnected with him a few years later. Both of you chasing your dreams in Miami Beach, not knowing from each other's presence in the city of the sun. The two of you bumped into each other at a party, hosted by one of Jeff’s closest friends, who coincidentally also was an acquaintance of one of your friends. As you spotted him in the crowd of people, smoking a cigarette you assured yourself that he couldn’t recall who you were. For one thing because he was fairly intoxicated and for another thing because you didn’t even know if he knew your name in the first place. You being the little cousin of one of his friends from back home. Why would he even remember your face?

Even though you were sure that he wouldn’t recognize you, you tried your best to avoid an encounter with him. Whenever he looked in your direction, you quickly turned away. When he somehow came closer to where you were, you searched for an excuse to disappear. You didn’t even know why you were so afraid and nervous to stand in front of him, but you continued your hiding nonetheless.

After a very successful night of preventing to meet him, and after you saw him leave the party, you decided it was time to celebrate your performance with a drink. You went to the nearest bar and tried to order yourself a cocktail when a tall man decided to fill the empty space next to you. „Heeeyy“ he introduced himself while he semi-leaned towards your small frame, his hands placed on the counter. „Hi“ you responded shortly, smiling with closed lips as you noticed it was him who was standing right next to you.  

Although your eyes deliberately went in the opposite direction than he was standing, he reclined back and squinted his eyes before he asked you „do I know you?“. You quickly shook your head and nervously tapped on the counter in front of you. „I don’t think so…“ you answered, still not returning his gaze. His eyes scanned your figure up and down before he pointed at you and rephrased his statement „I do know you!“ now sure about his cognizance. „I think you are mistaking me…“ you uttered tremulously, your hands fidgeting with your own fingers. Your level of uncomfortableness increasing by the minute, as his inebriated breath created a veil around your face. „I do…“ he objected trying very hard to recollect his memory. 

„Shiiiit..“ he spit out when he finally realized, elongating on the vocal „you’re from back home right?“ he spluttered before he put one of his hands on your shoulder to use you as a strut, demising the possibility of him falling down. You let out a little gasp as your gaze went to his hand. Looking at his long fingers nestling your naked shoulder. „You are from Staten Island! Aren’t ya’?“ he questioned you, exaggerating on his accent, his hand back on the counter and a big smile decorating his face, now very sure about his recognition. You breathed out at the sudden loss of physical contact. „Holy shit you really grew up, didn’t ya’?“ he mentioned while he scanned your whole body again. „Fuck, does Leo know that you run around looking like that?“ his words spoken while he pointed his finger at your outfit, a cigarette placed between his digits.

Still intimidated by the tall brunette standing next to you, you cleared your throat, gathered all your strength and spoke up „…that's not of his concern“. You breathed out, looking for the bartender, pleased and proud of your confident demeanor. Although you didn’t look at him, you noticed how his smile got even bigger, showing his perfect teeth as he finished the last pull of his smoke. „Well, certainly not anymore huh?“ he admitted right before he called the bartender, apparently another friend of his, to order drinks for the two of you.

During the rest of the night he didn’t left your side for one second. He told you about his friends, explained what he was doing if he wasn’t attending parties and gave you an extensive heads-up about places you shouldn’t go to. You friendly declined his offer of him walking you home but surrendered as he insisted on doing it anyways. Since your friend, which promised you to go home together, left the party with a random dude, it was safer for you to be accompanied by Jeff then going home all by yourself. „I hope to see you around y/n..“ he confessed when he was about to leave your apartment building. You took a last look into his eyes, nodded and let him vanish in the darkness of the night.

Although you tried your best not to spend much time with Jeff, you couldn’t avoid the fact that the two of you grew inevitably closer. Part of the reason being that two of your friends started dating, which particularly forced you to spend more time together. And the other one being that both of you shared the same hometown, which made you just relate to one another on a level no-one could really understand. You would be lying if you said that you didn’t enjoy Jeff’s company, but you wouldn’t admit to it either. Neither to your friends and certainly not to Jeff himself. 

In virtue of your and his friends group colliding you found yourself run in the wrong circle of people. The ones your family and especially your cousin Leo always warned you about. But Jeff, keeping his promise to Leo, watched out for you and tried his best to keep you out of the affairs. He always told you not to try the drugs some of your friends were doing, although it were his friends that brought them to the table. He revealed horror stories of downfalls some of his friends had, while you saw the same things happening to your acquaintance. He tried his best to keep you on the right path. And his effort finally made you realize, that Miami isn’t the right place for you. 

One night when all of your and his friends were partying in a penthouse, he begged you not to drink too much. Even though you were extremely annoyed by all the restrictions he already made for you, you obeyed him, not wanting that night to end in an argument. So instead of getting drunk, to keep up with intoxicated people, you just drank until you felt a little tipsy. You thought he just wanted to keep his promise to Leo. That he didn’t want you to do something stupid that you would regret someday. But in reality he just wanted you to be at least semi-sober for the very first kiss he was about to give you that very night. 

He walked you home, a habit the two of you adapted during the last few weeks of being friends. He gave you his jacket, embracing you in warmth filled with a mixture of the smell of cigarettes but most importantly his incomparable sent. He tried to take smaller steps for you, since your small body couldn’t keep up with his pace. And that in spite of getting more and more nervous with every street the two of you passed. He felt his heart beat faster with every step he took. His fingers getting shaky as he brought you closer to your place. 

When you finally stood in front of your entrance, searching for your keys, he took them out of his pocket. „Looking for those doll?“ he asked, swallowing away all the insecurities he had before and making a small step in your direction. You nodded lightly at the sight of your keys, a strand of hair falling down in front of your face. Jeff stepped forward and put the keys in the looker, your back now pressed against the entrance of your apartment. 

You looked up into his darkened brown eyes, your lips parted as you breathed out slowly, feeling his somewhat alcoholized breath against your skin. „Fuck…“ he said with his raspy voice, making you smell the drink he has drunk that evening. You swallow your uncertainty, your head fell back on the door just by the thought of tasting the liquor his lips enjoyed just hours ago. He breathed out, his gaze still focused on you „I promised Leo to protect you…“ he started slowly. „Keeping an eye on you…“ he continued while putting the fallen down strand of hair back behind your ear. „Making sure you don’t get in trouble…“ getting more and more quiet and closer to your face with every word he spoke. „But fuck y/n…“ his arms now resting on each side of your head, as if there is a protective shield around your body that doesn’t allow him to touch you. His lips not even an inch away from yours now „I can’t resist you anymore…“ he whispered almost inaudibly before he broke the guarding shield by pressing his lips on yours. You tasted the smoke on his tongue, the booze on his lips and the lust in his quiet moans. He pressed you against your door, your hands tangled up in his hair while he lifted you up, pulled you closer by your waist and opened the door for you to finally get in.

The two of you thought it was the first and last time that this had happened. But after just that one breathtaking night you shared, tangled up in your sheets, both of you carved for more. Therefore, drunk hookups turned into casually sleeping with each other. Eventually even when sober. You tried to keep it a secret, but the looks you gave each other and the ‘coincidently going home at the same time’ - every time - made your friends catch on rather fast. There was no denying that you had a thing for each other. But it was never anything too serious. Both of you just living in the moment. No rush and no need to put labels on a thing that could change any second. It was a fast life you had on the east coast. And it changed way faster than each one of you could have imagined. 

After all you had to end your little ongoing amorous adventure for the simple reason that life had other plans for you. An opportunity to fulfill your career dreams coaxed you to move away. So that’s what you did. Leaving the barber boy alone in the city of the sun.  And since you’ve been gone, shit quickly went down for him. Though you kept in touch with each other and though you  told him ‚not to fuck up‘ , he changed when you left. So it wasn’t even a surprise when your cousin called you to tell you, that Jeff had to go to jail.

-

A few years later you sat in one of your favorite bars, enjoying the night with some of your  closest friends. Pleased with where you were in live and what you have achieved in those past few years. You worked your butt off just to celebrate your promotion for a highly regarded position. A thousand cups of coffee, endless sleepless nights and sacrificed relationships finally paid off, just so you can finally celebrate your accomplishment. Yet your mood to party shifted when you saw a familiar face entering the crowded room. Happiness overcame you for a second, while you looked into those known and unmatchable deep brown eyes. How long has it been? You questioned yourself. Wanting nothing more than to catch up with the handsome man who you haven’t seen in ages. 

But your mood quickly changed after you saw him holding hands with another girl, walking right behind him. It took a while for him to notice your presence in-between those random faces, but after your eyes met he didn’t hesitate to make his way up to you. And before your brain could deal with the situation and even before your feelings could cope with the shock, he was already standing in front of you. „Y/n!“ he said in excitement, giving you a one-armed hug. Yet that’s enough for you to take in his acquainted scent. Even though there is no more indication for the smell of cigarettes, it brought back so many old memories. 

You tried to say something, but there was an ache in your throat that prevented you from making a sound. „She is an old friend of mine…“ he explained and avoided the possibility of an awkward moment of silence as well as introducing you to the girl which was standing right by his side. You waved at her, smiling politely after she introduced herself to you „How have you been?“ he asked you curiously with a big smile on his face, eyes lighten up when he put one of his arms around his company. You hesitated for a second, eyes pierced at his hand curving around the waist of the woman in his hold. Trying to manage the situation before you finally began to talk „I’m…“ you start, returning his gaze before recollecting yourself once again and starting anew, „I’m doing fine…“ you lied, a convincing smile conjured up on your face to conceal the sadness which was building up inside of you. „We should-“ he started, right before someone of his friends screamed his name. He apologized genuinely for the sudden interruption. However, he promised to catch up with you through the course of the night, before he left you and you friends alone.

„Who was that?“ a friend of yours asked you abuzz in excitement. „An old friend…“ you answered with a crack in your voice. Purposely repeating his words as your gaze followed his figure. You felt your throat closing with every step he took bringing distance between your bodies. You bit your inner lip, your eyes close to tears. But instead of drowning in melancholy you remembered the reason for your celebration. So you tried to stop the waiter just to ask her „Can we get another round of shots please?“

With every shot you took, you tried to forget about the looks he used to give you, when your eyes met his. Tried to forget about those late night walks on the beach, admiring the stars and talking about anything and everything. To forget how loved he made you feel when you shared a bed with him and spend days not leaving it. With every shot you just wanted to numb your heart the same way that the burning liquor was actually just numbing your brain. 

It wasn’t a secret that you thought about him from time to time. His name popped in your head whenever you talked to your cousin, which wasn’t as often as it used to be, yet you asked yourself what Jeff has been up to, when Leo didn’t mention him. Because he was indeed your favorite memory of your days in Miami. Still wondering if your name ever crosses his mind. If he remembers the moments the two of you shared with each other. If those were happy reminiscences, or if you were not more than just a short fling for him. 

As the night went on you tried not to be too obvious about your looks towards his new group of friends. However you were too nosey about where he was or what he was doing. That’s when you saw his face buried in the nape of her neck. He gave her little kisses on her throat until he made his way up to her lips. His eyes small, dimples deep and just full of happiness. The smile which was plastered on his face, one you knew just too well. Yet it wasn’t determined for you anymore. It felt like a thousand knives were stabbed in your body all at once. Like your lungs cut off all your air, stopping you from breathing, making you suffocate from the pain. You smiled approvingly at her after she glanced at you. Her eyes full of happiness, while yours almost begun to fill with tears. 

Before things could get worse your body robotically squeezed itself through the masses of people until you made your way outside, trying to gasp for some air. Whilst you took a deep breath you felt your body calming down again. 

You gave your thoughts the chance to understand and tried to comprehend the situation as you went to a nearby parking lot. Although you know you shouldn’t do it, your mind made you question yourself. What does she got that you don’t have? Comparing your noticeable similarities and your striking differences. Your eyes almost the same color. Is it because she is taller than you? Your hair about the same length. Or because she has a cuter nose then yours? After a few more terrible comparisons you realized that it doesn’t lead to anything. Besides everything that made him fall for her, she also had the courage to fall for the man you’ve always admired. 

Your gaze went up to the sky, trying to see at least some starts in between the dirty nightlights. A few tears fell down your cheek as you thought about your days in Miami. But instead of feeling sorry for yourself, you tried to be happy for your friend. That, regardless how many wrong decisions he made, it ended more then well for him.

Right before you came clean with that and made your way back to the bar to continue the celebration, a familiar voice stopped you.

"y/n?"

[zimms]

do you know that reddit post that's like "i'm in quarantine with my roommate (we're both dudes) and we've been cuddling together a lot. am i gay?" because at least to me it has big olliewicks vibes

hey dude! i’m sorry this is so late, but hopefully you’ll like it! 

Ollie groggily awakens to the feeling of two strong arms wrapped around his stomach, holding him close and grounding him. He lets out a sigh of contentment before squeezing his eyes shut and burrowing his head slightly further into the tangle of bodies, pursuing the warm heat of the other person. The body beneath him shifts slightly, emitting a slight groan and disturbing Ollie’s brief peace. That’s when he realises three things.

They’re in the middle of a pandemic.

His only human contact in the past two months, other than cashiers at their local grocery store, has been Wicky.

The person beneath him is definitely Wicky. Ollie can feel it in every plane, every angle, every curve of the body he’s laying on top of. It’s in the way that Wicky’s breathing slightly stutters after every inhale. He knows it’s Wicky because every inch of Wicky’s body is unique and Ollie’s memorised all of them. So yeah, definitely Wicky.

Ollie takes a moment to just breathe and catalogue the situation. He cracks an eye open and he immediately heaves a sigh of relief; they’re both wearing clothes, which means that they didn’t do anything that either of them might regret. Well, or at least, nothing that Ollie might regret; he can’t speak for whether or not Wicky might regret even cuddling him, let alone anything else. 

He cranes his neck slightly to catch sight of the TV, where the Netflix Are you still watching? screen stares back at him. Oh yeah, they’d been watching Tiger King together on the couch before they’d fallen asleep on top of each other. 

Ollie braces his hands on either side of Wicky and slowly rolls off of his best friend, careful not to land on the squeaky couch spring and wake him up. He slides slowly to the floor and places his head in his hands. 

Fuck. 

He squeezes his eyes shut and groans as quietly as he can into his palms. He’s been doing so well at tamping down his crush on Wicky up until now, but something inside of Ollie has ignited after spending the night in such close proximity to him. He’s not sure if he’ll be able to pretend when Wicky wakes up that he didn’t savour every moment that his skin was pressed against Wicky’s, that he doesn’t know exactly what Wicky looks like when he’s sound asleep, that he hasn’t memorised the way their chests rose and fell against each other in perfect synchrony.

Ollie shakes his head before pushing himself to his feet and padding into the kitchen to get breakfast. That’s enough thinking for today.

----

Ollie shifts his weight from side to side as he leans outside of George’s office and listens to the sound of chairs scraping behind the door. Thank fuck, they’re almost done; he’s been leaning against this wall for twenty goddamn minutes and his feet are aching. He straightens up as the door swings open and he plasters a grin on his face; no matter how annoying a long wait is, scowling probably isn’t the best first impression when you’re meeting your new employer. 

However, Ollie’s grin disintegrates when he sees the guy that comes out of the office and instead his mouth drops open. 

Holy fuck. 

Ollie unashamedly stares at the guy as he ambles down the corridor. God, every inch of him is pure perfection. From cheekbones that could cut glass, to wide brown eyes that seem to reflect and emit light until the whole corridor illuminates with this guy’s presence. From the lopsided grin that plays across his face, to the biceps that are way too big for the sleeves of his Falcs t-shirt. Ollie lets his eye’s slide to the guy’s ass; yeah, that’s definitely a hockey player. 

He’s stunning.

And, the little voice in the back of Ollie’s mind pipes up, a teammate.

Ollie slumps down the wall again and groans. He’s so fucked. 

----

Ollie had hoped that he’d be able to avoid all thoughts of his crush on Wicky for a while, well, preferably forever. He’s always been so careful to never let their cellies on the ice go too far, never letting Wicky kiss him on the helmet like he does every other player, never letting their hugs last for too long, never actively seeking out physical affection from him other than quick bro hugs and a slap on the back. 

The universe has other plans for him apparently.

That one night of couch cuddling seems to have opened the floodgates, because all of a sudden Ollie’s inundated by a tidal wave of physical affection from Wicky and it’s just becoming too difficult. Too difficult to ignore the onslaught of butterflies in his stomach when their hands brush slightly when they’re reaching for the salt at the dinner table. Too difficult not to stare at him when they’re watching a movie next to each other on the couch and he shifts over slightly so that their legs are touching. Too difficult to even begin to process and cope with the fact that Wicky has started coming into Ollie’s room to fucking cuddle with him. It’s too difficult because Ollie is finally allowing himself to hope and he doesn’t even fucking know if Pacer, Wicky, Pace, is anything other than straight. 

It’s just too goddamn difficult to be around his best friend. 

Ollie smiles down at where Pacer has tucked himself underneath his right arm, eyes softly shut and a peaceful smile playing across his face, and he feels his heart breaking. If he wants to preserve their friendship beyond this quarantine in any way shape or form, he needs to stop indulging himself like this. What if Pacer’s angry because Ollie’s taken advantage of him because Ollie’s using this- this thing between them to selfishly fulfill his own wants? What if Pacer’s only comfortable doing this because he thinks Ollie’s straight? What if-

Ollie squeezes his eyes shut and curls his hand into the sleeve of Pacer’s shirt, forcing that line of thought to come screeching to a halt before it becomes a trainwreck. He needs to stop thinking like that; Pacer’s not gonna abandon him after three years of friendship and being lineys because of some no homo, bro bullshit. Or at least, Ollie hopes he wouldn’t. Pacer’s not that kind of person. 

(Aww, fuck. He also needs to stop referring to him as Pacer in his head. He needs to distance himself from Wicky somehow, and he’s definitely not going to pull away from him physically, especially as they’re each the other’s only source of human contact for the next month or nine, so emotional distancing will have to do.)

He heaves a sigh and lets himself slump against the headboard, careful to make sure that Wicky’s head doesn’t fall too quickly from where it’s leant against Ollie’s shoulder. Wicky stirs at the sudden movement  and his eyes slowly open, a sleepy beam playing across his face and chestnut eyes staring intently at Ollie like he’s the moon gazing upon the sun. 

Ollie muffles a groan. He just doesn’t know what to think anymore. 

----

The second that Ollie and Pacer Wicks step onto the ice together for the first time it feels electric. They complement each other in every way; Pacer skates slightly faster than Ollie does, whilst Ollie has a slightly more accurate pass that finds Pacer every single time. It’s like they were made for each other. 

It’s fantastic.

(It’s torturous.)

Ollie finds himself spending even more time with Wicky than he originally planned for, and things just keep going from good to great. 

(They go from bad to worse)

They have the same taste in films to the extent that they now have a monthly The Princess Bride rewatch. They’re both cat people and it’s slipped into their pre-game routine to go for a walk together, looking for the neighbourhood cats and calling pspspspsp to them in the hopes that they’ll come running and grant them good luck before the game. They’ve won every game that they’ve stroked a cat before, so Ollie isn’t really inclined to let go of the superstition, and, judging by the way Wicky grins at the little fuzzballs, Wicky is equally reluctant to stop their pre-game walks. The best thing they have in common is that both of their leases are up at the end of this month; who’s Ollie to pass up the opportunity to live with the guy that’s rapidly becoming the most important person in his life?

(Ollie’s an absolute fool. Living with Wicky is going to kill him very slowly and definitely isn’t the way to rid himself of a crush that’s quickly morphing into something even more serious. 

Ollie is, once again, fucked.)

----

Ollie tries to pull away slowly rather than withdrawing all physical affection at once. It’s painful, but if it keeps Wicky from hating him, Ollie will gladly do it. Heck, if it was to protect Wicky, Ollie would do anything. 

He starts slowly. He shifts over a bit on the couch, leaving a deliberate gap between them on the couch, so that no wandering limbs can reach out for each other. He makes sure to hold out the condiments at dinner, so that there’s no way for either of them to find an excuse for their fingers to touch, no matter how much Ollie hungers for it. He starts spending more time in his room, doing his online college courses there, rather than in the living room like he usually does. He goes to bed earlier, hoping, wishing, praying that Wicks doesn’t try to join him for a cuddle. 

(Ollie ignores the little voice in the back of his mind that’s screaming to feel the press of Wicky’s warm body against his again. He ignores the wounded glances that he receives from Wicky every time he avoids eye contact. He ignores the aching pangs inside of his chest that appear whenever he spends too long gazing at Ollie.)

----

Moving in together is the best idea and the worst idea that Ollie’s ever gone along with.

Pros: He gets to spend every day with Wicky.

Cons: Spending every day with Wicky might actually kill him soon. RIP Oliver O’Meara. Cause of Death: Walking into the kitchen and seeing Wicky topless and sleep rumpled, muscles rippling as he reaches for the coffee. 

Pros: He knows Wicky almost as well as he knows himself.

Cons: He now knows that Wicky is hung up on someone after one particularly drunken ramble.

(Fuck.)

----

It’s a week after the first cuddling incident that Wicky pulls open the door to Ollie’s room and marches in, eyebrows lowered and eyebags darker than ever. Ollie immediately slams the lid of his laptop shut, straightening up from where he’s slumped against the headboard of his bed. He frowns. “What’s up, Wicky?”

Wicky freezes on the other side of the room. “What’s up?” he says, voice cracking and strangled. Yikes, this must be worse than Ollie thought it was. “You’re asking me what’s up?” He drops onto the bed, like a stone sinking to the bottom of a river. “You’re the one that’s disappeared recently.” He pushes the heels of hands into his eyes. “We used to do everything together and now whenever I look for you, you’re in here.” He tears his hands away from his face, to gesture frantically around the room. Wicky appears to be manic; his hair’s all ruffled and there’s this slightly crazed look in his eyes. “What did I do, Ol?”

Ollie scrambles out of bed to come and sit next to Wicky. He stretches out a hand to comfort Wicky, but withdraws it as he fumbles for what to do or say. “You didn’t do anything, Pace,” he says softly, resisting the urge to reach out and swipe away the tears that are trickling intermittently down his cheeks. “It’s me that’s the problem.”

Wicky raises an eyebrow at him, stare stern in spite of the crying. “Really? So you’re completely fine with me cuddling you? And definitely didn’t start shutting down any of my attempts to spend time with you?” Ollie flinches and Wicky scoffs. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“I-” Ollie trails off, eyes wandering until his gaze meets Wicky’s. The look in Wicky’s eyes isn’t scornful, no matter how much it deserves to be, instead his eyes are calm and fathomless like the earth after a long-anticipated rain. “I didn’t want to hurt you, though I clearly failed in that respect. I’m just so worried that you’re going to think less of me, especially once I tell you that-” Ollie clamps his mouth shut, as words he’s barely even thought to himself start to tumble out into the open.

“Tell me that..?” If Ollie didn’t know any better, he’d think that there was a trace of hope in Wicky’s voice. “C’mon, Ol, I’m not gonna leave you, no matter what you say.”

Ollie rubs his hand across his eyelids before stuttering out, “I’m in love with you.” Shit, that is not what he meant to say. “Fuck, I mean, I like you. Romantically.” He hides his face in his hands. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, so I figured going cold turkey for a couple of days might do me some good.” He pulls his hands from his face suddenly and lets them drop to his knees. “Is that what you wanted to hear? That I like you? That I might be, fuck it, I am in love with you?”

The silence in the room answers that question for him and Ollie feels a tear roll down his face and a gutteral sob tear its way from his throat. 

“Fuck, Ol,” Pacer says, scrubbing a weary hand across his face, and that’s when Ollie knows that it’s all over, that he’s going to be rejected by the most important person in his life. “That’s definitely not what I was expecting, but it’s not unwelcome by any means.”

It’s not?

Ollie suppresses a sniffle as he voices this sentiment aloud. 

Pacer laughs, honest to God, laughs. “It’s actually very welcome, considering the fact that I’ve been pining for you since long before you got traded to Providence.”

He’s what-?

“I-” Ollie stumbles over the words, cheeks heating, “but you’re straight? And you’re hung up on someone?”

Pacer swipes a thumb across Ollie’s cheek, tracing the trail of his blush. “Ol, when did I ever say I was straight?” he asks, his gaze intently focused on Ollie. “Anyway, it’s always been you.” He leans in closer, breathing out one final word before sealing their lips together. “Always.”

[commander-diomika]

(Click to Read From the Beginning) Part 7 Pairing: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde, James Barnes/Howard Carter Word Count: 1600 Rating: Mature Additional Tags: Slow Burn, 18-Month Time Gap (Rusty Quill Gaming), Opposites Attract, Trans Male Character, Barnes and Carter have a mild D/s thing going on but there's nothing explicit in here

Summary: Wilde opened the Campbell. He genuinely tried to read, but like bubbles in a glass, his eyes rose off the page and over the top of the book. He enjoyed this one, truly, but a fictional romance held slightly less fascination for him than the reality of the one relaxing in his sitting room.

It’s been almost a year and they still can’t bear to take their hands off each other, Wilde thought bemusedly.

Barnes lounged on one of the comfy chairs in Wilde’s sitting room, watching the fire, whiskey in one hand. Carter had a pile of knives and complicated-looking tools laid out on the low table, humming softly as he did inventory and repairs. He knelt on the floor practically between Barnes’ uwabaki-clad feet, and as Wilde walked in, Carter reached behind himself almost absently to pat Barnes on the thigh, finishing with an affectionate squeeze before shifting focus back to his work.

The pair of them had just finished up yet another round of quarantine and, post bath and debrief, had seemingly settled in for the evening.

Wilde nodded to Barnes and went to pour himself a drink then settled in opposite the pair with a book. Zolf was away once again, returning to his old network with the Harlequins to see if they had discovered anything on the simulacra since he’d left their employ. He was due back in the next few days, and the fact that Wilde had timed each deployment so that the other men could do the inspections for Zolf… well, it was just good luck, not good management.

Wilde liked sending out Zolf alone about as much as Zolf had liked the reverse. But that was part of the job. They no longer lived in a world with much room for sentimentality. Besides, Wilde was almost accustomed to the underlying hum of anxiety every time one of the team was away. He was adept at neatly packaging up that fear, that preemptive grief, and putting in a quiet corner of his mind to either be unboxed when the worst happened or discarded if it didn’t.

“Thought you’d already read that one,” Barnes said by way of breaking the quiet. This was often how it was after a mission, by unspoken understanding; conversation carved deliberately out of the soft, the easy, questions neatly avoiding the state of the world or the work.

“If one cannot enjoy reading a book over and over again, there is no use in reading it at all.” Wilde replied. Truth was, between the enforced waiting between missions and the inescapable breakdown of the global market, books he hadn’t read were becoming harder to find.

Barnes gave a non-committal grunt that said he didn’t know the feeling.

Wilde opened the Campbell. He genuinely tried to read, but like bubbles in a glass, his eyes rose off the page and over the top of the book. He enjoyed this one, truly, but a fictional romance held slightly less fascination for him than the reality of the one relaxing in his sitting room.

Barnes reached out with the hand that wasn’t holding the whisky, and without taking his eyes from the fire, gave the back of Carter’s neck a squeeze; strong grip working into the muscle. Carter’s tune transformed into a low hum of pleasure, hands briefly stilling on his tools.

It’s been almost a year and they still can’t bear to take their hands off each other, Wilde thought bemusedly.

This had been the last thing he’d expected when he’d paired them up together. He had honestly been worried they would both crack after the first quarantine, and either quit or demand someone new to work with. At the very least after the umpteenth round of spending a week in a small room together, Wilde thought they’d want a little space. But here they were.

Wilde felt a strange pulse of guilt. If either one of them died whilst out on a mission- he snapped his eyes back to the book. It was a harsh world. As their handler, it could only be viewed as a good thing that they had become, well, devoted to one another. A strategic benefit, he said to himself, wanting ardently to believe it.

Wilde turned a page without having read a word on it.

“Hey sailor,” Carter said softly. He’d finished repairing his thieves’ tools and was pulling out a weapon-care kit. “Grab your sword, I’ll do her first.”

Wilde fought to keep his eyebrows level as Barnes fetched and handed his sword over to Carter. “Use my whetstone; don’t think yours is quite up to the task.” Barnes settled back in his chair, looking like a man without a care in the world.

Wilde swallowed. They really did feel safe here, safe with one another. If only they all could just… stay here. Hope that the war would not come to their doorstep. If only they could be left in peace, if only there was no threat eating away at the world. If there wasn’t a job to do, Wilde felt like he could just stay here; with these two, and the locals, and be happy.

He could put it all down. And Zolf would be there too.

His dreams used to be much bigger than a life of relative safety and obscurity in a tiny Japanese backwater, but the looming decay of a previously ordered world had a way of shifting priorities.

Carter eventually finished his chores, and then successfully watched the fire for three whole quiet minutes before announcing he was going to the kitchen.

“Don’t be a pest,” Barnes said in a well-practised farewell. “When you come back, I’ve got some shirts that need mendin’ too.”

Carter blew air through his teeth. “I’m not your valet, Barnes,” he replied, and Barnes just raised an eyebrow at him. Walking out, Carter muttered something under his breath about buttons that didn’t even get used.

“If you’ve got anythin’ that needs repairing, I’d get Carter to do it to,” Barnes offered, secure that Carter’s departing comments in no way reflected his actual intentions. “He’s a fair hand with a needle.”

Wilde smiled knowingly as he shook his head, and without conscious thought, a question popped out of his mouth.

“How did you two… happen?”

Barnes looked surprised at the question. Not that he felt it inappropriate, Barnes just wasn’t used to Wilde being confused about the obvious. “Well,” he said, brow furrowed as he tried to figure out how to phrase it. “He just needs a firm hand on the rein, y’know. Didn’ take us long to figure out I could be that for ‘im.”

The noise that Carter had made as he came, muffled in said firm hand, was still remarkably fresh in Wilde’s memory. The sound flashed through his mind as if to punctuate Barnes’ comment.

Barnes must have seen the brief rise of heat in Wilde’s cheeks, because his next comment, mildly spoken, was, “You interested in joining us, Wilde?” When Wilde’s only response was a raised brow, Barnes continued. “I don’t mind sharin’.”

Wilde leant back in his chair, considering this surprise twist of in the conversation. It had been quite some time since he’d been openly propositioned, and despite the languid set of his body, he felt his heartbeat speed up and a slight blush heat his cheeks. A younger Wilde, an unshackled Wilde, would have said yes in an instant. He’s fallen into bed with someone, or someones, for less.

Wilde briefly allowed the beast that was his imagination off-leash. He saw himself, besieged with pleasure. Bodies surrounding him, hands and lips on him, stuffed at both ends, absolutely overwhelmed, worshipped, had.

It was a very nice thought.

But it was more complicated now, without his magic. It wasn’t that he felt shy, or that he thought either of his co-conspirators would react poorly to his… unconventional physiology. It was just that sex for the younger version of Wilde didn’t used to be so revealing. It used to be something he could just fold into his performance persona, slide straight from stage to bed without having to play a single open card.

Skies above, Wilde missed those days. He investigated his drink, calm face hiding the stream of images bubbling through his mind. Somewhere amongst the tantalising and lascivious, were the complex and confusing. Barnes and Carter fucking in the cell downstairs, the very same one where Wilde had been pushed to let Zolf in on a secret truth. An expression of conflicted desire on Zolf’s face.

Wilde couldn’t sort those images into a cohesive narrative, so he put them aside with a dark, self-deprecating chuckle. “I thank you, but no. I was merely seeking satisfaction for my curiosity.”

Barnes nodded, unruffled. Wilde had seen the man fight and had heard him fuck. He knew the energy, the potential Barnes contained, and yet in conversation he was such a mild creature. He was a contradiction. It was almost as though he saved up all that vitality, that power, for when it was needed the most. The rest of the time he simply… switched it off.

Wilde pulled his mind back to business with a sigh, “Besides, if we don’t hear from Zolf in about twelve hours, I’m sorry to say you two will be heading out again. It’s a short turnaround, I know. You should spend it together.”

“For sure, I wouldn’t mind a sleep in a proper bed for one.” With that, the two lapsed back into a comfortable silence.

When Carter returned from the kitchen, he had a bottle of sake and a bunch of grapes. He came up behind Barnes, dangling both his prizes into the seated man’s eyeline.

“C’mon, sailor. Let’s get out of Oscar’s hair.”

Barnes smiled slowly, making deliberate eye contact with Wilde. He wasn’t the sort to waggle his eyebrows or leer, but his gaze communicated last chance, offer still stands, as clear as a sunny day.

With a small smile, Wilde waved them off. There was something like envy bubbling in his chest, over the ease which Barnes and Carter shared with each other.

He sighed and picked up his book.

[secretshinigami]

Don't mess with an annoyed L

Author: @skaelds

For: @lightsturtleneck

Pairings/Characters: Light/L

Rating/Warnings: K/K+

Prompt: Domestic Lawlight

Author’s notes: Heyy ! This was very fun to write, i hope it’s qualified as a Domestic Lawlight, and i hope it will please you :D L’s Pov here you go <3

- - - - - - - - - - – - - - - - - - - - – - - - - - - - - - 

L Lawliet prided himself on being a patient person. It was something he had to learn over the years, to know how to calm his ardour in order to achieve his goal at the right moment, to know how to bide his time. The methods of The Anger Trap: Free Yourself had taught him how to temper his frustration, how to lower his tension and how to avoid anger-related symptoms such as chest tightness or tachycardia.

He remembered several times when waiting had been the key to his success, when victory meant hours spent crouching behind a screen watching the slightest change in attitude. A treacherous whisper of his mind whispered the name of Light Yagami. L promptly ignored it.

A patient person, thus.

Therefore, not very quick to lose control over his nerves.

That is why his smile didn’t tighten on his lips, his eyelids didn’t twitch and he didn’t take a breath intended to bring down his tension. None of that. No. And anyone who would say otherwise would be an odious liar.

“I thought Light-kun had given up his idea of murdering me in cold blood. I note this betrayal with real disappointment. When you confessed to me that you had changed and no longer wanted to crush the hearts of criminals between your chips-covered fingers, I thought your madness was over. Sadly, I realise that this is not the case. I am on the verge of death, Light-kun, and my death will be blamed on you. I hope you’re happy with yourself.”

“Shut up and chop.”

“Your coldness hurts me.”

“No, that’s just the impact of the weather. And the current temperature of -10 degrees. And probably the fact that you’re not wearing gloves when I insisted for twenty minutes that you put them on.”

“The analogy is completely unfounded. There is no correlation between the temperature and the state of my heart. Who is hurt, I emphasize. Broken into a thousand shards of glass. Crumbled. Set on fire.”

“Oh damn it, L, it is you I’m going to set on fire if you don’t stop complaining!”

Light straightened up suddenly, throwing his axe vigorously into the snow - ruffled hair, long caramel-coloured strands sticking to the soaked face, reddened by irritation and effort. Two eyes that shot him with force - even made him check to see if he had not just taken two bullets. The tip of his nose was reddened by the cold, gleaming on his face. L was taken by a sudden urge to cross the few steps that separated them and to kiss this angry face, to make the frown that was spoiling the beauty of the face disappear.

Who did he think he was fooling? As if the beauty of the other could be spoiled by something as trivial as irritation. On the contrary, seeing irises inflamed with anger aroused a tingling in his stomach that he refused to identify.

L crossed his arms on his chest, his own axe falling to the ground.

“The muscles of my upper body are less developed than those of my lower body, Light-kun. It’s a torture” he complained, sulking expression on his face. “And I’m not the one who decreed that it was imperative to chop down our own tree. Watari was quite willing to give us one. With all the characteristics you were looking for.”

Light rolled her eyes. Passed a hand through his hair, dislodging some snow dust.

“It’s a tradition,” he insisted. “You can understand, you’re the one who insisted on coming to spend Christmas at the Wammy House. Saying that it was an obligation and that you wouldn’t neglect it.”

“The Wammy has a perfectly satisfactory tree.”

“L !”

“I love you too.”

Pushed sigh with a mixture of exasperation and affection. He shook his head, caused flakes to rain down. The cold crept up his neck, down his sleeves, over his ankles - came to lay his frozen hand on him and mark his territory. Even though his hands were in his pockets and a heavy scarf was wrapped around his neck as if to strangle him, he felt the icy air pressing his lips to his skin. He shivered - they might have to amputate his toes. Terrible notion, how could he slide them over Light’s warm skin at night? He deliberately omitted the fact that this act was always followed by a yelp from Light, a startled awakening and usually a punch that would make him fall out of bed.

Light was particularly susceptible.

“But I am cold.” A real complaint, camouflaged in a childish mumble. Annoyed. He had followed Light willy-nilly in the winter cold, had rushed into the forest with him, but they had been sawing the tree trunk down for more than forty minutes - or almost - without the damn tree ever collapsing. L would have almost scribbled Abies balsamea in the Death Note by pure spirit of revenge. “I’m about to lose my fingers.”

“That’s a shame.”

“ Be careful, Light-kun forgot what empathy is all about again.”

Light shook his head once more - shaking in a canine manner - before taking a few steps forward, axe forsaken, and a slight, almost amused grin on his lips. He almost retreated backwards by reflex, preferred to take his hands out of his pockets and hold them out to Light, and was immediately assaulted by a warm and perhaps at least a bit empathetic mass.

Lips pressed against the icy skin on his neck - he shivered upon the contact, tightened his grip around Light. Light smiled against his neck, put another kiss on it, his own hands wrapped around L’s waist. “So you’re looking for a cure against the frost?”

Ecstatic nod, ready to close his eyes and-

PAF!

The universe fell under a cloud of white, an icy envelope wrapped around him like a predator, leaving him in shock. A snow avalanche, creeping into his neck, waist, ears, wrists, ankles - even swallowing a handful of it, his eyelashes covered with frosted crystals. Time froze for a moment, leaving him lying on the ground, too shocked to reflect on Light’s betrayal - the only indication of his survival testified by the regular blinking of his eyelids.

A simply awful laugh tore his eardrums. Those that came from the back of the throat, resounded like thirty bulls charging towards him, reflecting all the petty amusement and cunning of his host. L felt betrayed.

What seemed like an eternity later, he stood up slowly, one elbow leaning against the snow.

Threw an absolutely polar glance at Light.

“Did anyone ever told you you had a goat’s laugh?”

The hiccups of laughter redoubled.

L touched the snow next to him, leaned a second elbow to stand up. “I hope you know that I never leave a blow unanswered, Light-kun, you’ve just signed your death warrant.”

Tears were now streaming down Light’s face. Tears of laughter, for sure, which would soon turn into tears of suffering if he was allowed to give his opinion. He stood up on his legs hesitantly - shaking himself to make the snow fall, making it slide further down his neck. L restrained a relatively virile yelp, stood there for a few seconds - a perfect representation of a forest gremlin. Or the Yeti. Covered with snow as he was, the resemblance must have been striking.

His resolution taken, he bent down, gathered the snow into a compact ball and rushed towards Light - taking him by surprise. The other stumbled back, tripped over the handle of L’s axe, flapped his hands like a chick thrown from the nest before tipping over on his backside. In a second, L was on top of him - drove the snowball into his coat’s neckline.

Light shrieked - grabbing L’s hands to stop him from continuing. L pulled to get out of the grip, lost his balance for a few seconds-

Collapsed next to Light.

A few seconds passed in total silence, only the sound of their breaths breaking the silence before they exchanged a glance - L felt his lips stretch in spite of himself, resisted valiantly before giving in and joining Light in his burst of laughter. Breathless, they tried to catch their breath, each new glance at the other finishing them off again.

Light eventually cut himself as best he could, stretching out one arm to wrap it around L.

“I may have a goat’s laughter but I can still stand on my feet. Do you want a cane, old man?”

Slap addressed with a mixture of annoyance and amusement. L was covered in snow, infiltrated down to every pore of his skin, had just tried to cut down a pine tree for a good forty minutes and had just been tackled like a feverish rugby player on the ground. In short, he was soaked, exhausted and probably in hypoglycemia

From an objective point of view, therefore, he was absolutely not responsible for his own actions.

That is why he smiled slightly at Light Yagami, interlaced their fingers with his left hand - the one where Light was wearing his wedding ring - and quickly kissed him on the cheek. Slipped his other hand through the melted caramel-coloured hair - and it reminded him of the caramel-filled cookies waiting for them in their kitchen, what a wonderful idea - by tightening his fingers on the strands.

And slammed Light Yagami’s head roughly into the snow.

Justice was always delivering its judgment.

Later, when they returned to the Wammy House, the fire crackling in the fireplace and their hands wrapped around a nice hot chocolate, L put his cup on the table and climbed up to sit next to Light.

“The children told me that they love the tree initiative. They have even started to decorate it” grinned Light with a satisfied smirk. That of the cat who had devoured the canary and had just blamed the dog.

L gave him one of his own smiles.

“Maybe I could make it up to you in some special way…”

“Perhaps you could…”

He leaned over to Light- interrupted suddenly by a shrill ringing of the telephone. Annoyed grimace, device grabbed with fingertips to refuse the call, turning off the object and throwing it across the raised eyebrow of Light, who split into a new smile before putting down his cup and swinging L onto the couch.

Ah. A thought crossed his mind as Light’s lips rested on his skin-

Maybe he wasn’t that patient in the end.

[darkkidplaidopera]

“For eternity” Khunbam

as always sorry for any errors, and there’s smut under the cut so you’ve been warned lol

<- ->

Khun Aguero Agnis has never been prone to believe in the supernatural. As he said himself, this world has already contained enough madness itself. The first rule of living there everyone learned as a child – if you want to avoid making the same mistakes, you have to know your past. What's more, each human being was born with a mark on their body which symbolized the way one died in their last incarnation. The mark belonging to Khun didn't look particularly large. Some people thought he's lucky because of it. Yet two dark dots staining his pale neck looked as if he got bitten by a venomous snake. Even though they seemed way too huge for simply a wild animal, Aguero tried not to think about it. Was there a big chance that he'll die this way again? No, of course not. He didn't have any possible way of meeting such a creature during his usual life. And that's enough of a reason to don't care about his mark. After all, Khun Aguero Agnis was a busy man, he had no time for this kind of nuisances. Always dressed properly – a tailored suit, shiny shoes, black tie, and an expensive watch. If you ever tried to imagine what a stereotypical businessman looked like, he'd be the first thing popping into your mind. Khun's life, just as his straightened blue hair, was lacking any kind of mess. He couldn't understand people who treated their marks as a significant part of themselves. There was no such a word like “destiny” in his dictionary, because believing in it had no logical value. After all, he lived in a world with much bigger issues – economy, politics, and even an upcoming climate catastrophe! Caring about something as trivial as body marks in current situation seemed egoistical. Or at least that's what he thought.

Fall was such a pretty season, but it had a major flaw. Too short days. Aguero spent most of his time in his office, which resulted in the fact that both when he entered, and left the building there was already dark outside. Maybe Khun didn't like to admit it, but coming back to his house was the least favorite part of the day for him. The office was his sanctuary. Full of life, people, important matters. And his house? Empty, filled with loneliness, and apathy. Aguero had everything, but he felt like he still lacked something. Or someone, to be more precise. Khun could reject those thoughts, try to disagree with them, he could even find them totally idiotic. But for what reason when deep down he knew himself what was the truth? Self awareness was both a blessing, and a curse. Yet the awareness itself couldn't possibly affect his daily routine in any way. Aguero packed his documents, and checked for the last time if everything was on its place. It was a few minutes past 8 P.M. If not for the streetlamps, there would be an unbreakable darkness surrounding every inch of the world outside. Khun lived near his office, so he could easily go back to his place on foot. On his way he passed different parks, streets, and houses. Aguero swore to himself that there was no other place in this world with so many imbeciles behind the wheel who treated speed limits like suggestions instead of restrictions. Khun considered himself to be a tolerant person. Yet there was one thing he absolutely couldn't stand – irresponsibility. Suddenly, he heard a weird noise behind his back. It couldn't possibly be wind. The noise sounded more like a rustle of some leaves being stomped at. Aguero turned around immediately, but the only thing he saw was an empty road dressed in a dark shroud of the night. Maybe he imagined things? No, impossible. Maybe it was some kind of animal. Yes, that's the only rational option. Khun tried to believe that. Yet, during the whole walk to his house, he felt like he wasn't alone. As soon as Aguero reached his destination, he closed the door quickly while throwing his cloak at an armchair.

“Alone once again,” Khun murmured.

Talking to himself was one of those habits that he didn't create completely deliberately. Khun didn't like spending time in an absolute silence. Being left alone with his thoughts was too overwhelming. Silence was the only thing that could scream the truth so loudly. Khun Aguero Agnis was a successful man. And he was really fucking lonely.

“You seem really confident for someone who's wrong.”

Aguero froze. That voice definitely didn't belong to him. It didn't even sound fully humane. A husky, low timbre made Khun shiver.  He felt like an animal that's slowly getting closer to getting trapped in a cage. The velvet voice seemed to cling to Aguero's heart, and surround it with golden threads. The ones that spread their warmth, making others unable to take their eyes away from the beauty. Those that one day will stop Aguero's circulation to own the last beat of his heart.

“Who are you?” Khun asked while trying to get out of his narcotic trance.

“Does it matter? I can introduce myself with every name, and every past. But it won't change anything,” a man answered.

Khun took this moment as an opportunity to see the source of the voice. A man standing next to his window seemed completely indifferent to what was happening, as if the situation's nothing new for him. Because of a black cloak he was wearing, his posture lightly blurred with the night sky. Long, dark hair covering a part of his face made the stranger slightly more mysterious. It looked as if his clothing was chosen on purpose so the slim body didn't look so fragile. Because of his tallness, and rather delicate face structure the stranger reminded Aguero more of a statue than a real human being. His marble skin, and body seemed like an embodiment of the slenderness of Gothic architecture that somehow got trapped in a Greek sculpture.

“I don't think any different. But since you've already broken into my home, you could already make some effort, and provide me a believable reason why,” Aguero snorted.

“Does everything need to have a reason, though? If something has to happen, then it will, no matter if there's a legitimate cause of it,” the man replied.

Nonsense. Nothing happens without a reason. Khun Aguero Agnis would never allow something as irrational as fate to make a difference in his life without a permission.

“And, Aguero,” the stranger continued. “Don't you want to know what was the real cause of your mark?”

“How do you know my name?”

With each passing second Khun found it harder to stay calm. There was a stranger in his house who had probably followed him before, and somehow even knew his name. Aguero didn't know if the man meant any harm, but he also wasn't too thrilled to check. Khun knew there's a chance he's in danger, and even worse – he didn't know how to escape from his own house to call the police.

“I've been watching you for quite a time.”

Yikes. Isn't that stalking? Suddenly, a wind blow came through the room, and left a slight impact on the man's hair. The dark cascades made a contact with golden light coming from his big eyes. They seemed familiar. Too familiar for Khun's liking. A quiet voice in Aguero's head was getting louder, and louder. And its screams were repetitively filling his mind with one word.

“Your name is Viole, right?”

The man nodded.

Jue Viole Grace has never considered himself to be an extraordinary human being. Well, maybe let's start with the fact that he never considered himself a human. As one of the creatures that most people thought existed only in fairytales, he tried to fit in really hard. And it wasn't an easy task. With his extremely pale skin, dark hair, and fangs that were a little too long Viole was rather easy to find in a crowd. Viole considered the twenty-first century as a nice change, though. In the previous ages, his appearance usually made people either scared or nervous. Not to mention when he had to run away from villages while being chased with pitchforks, and torches. And now? Now if people react to his looks at all, they usually just wonder if there was a new collection with vampire accessories in Hot Topic. Viole liked it. No one would believe he's a vampire anyway. The society apparently thought of reincarnation, and weird body marks as completely normal. But vampires? No, that's not possible. Yet what else could he expect, when after all these years some people still believed that the Earth is flat? Viole didn't complain, though. Conspiracy theories were way better than wasting his time on priests trying to exorcise him to get some demons out. Viole didn't mind waiting. He didn't remember his past lives fully, but there was one repetitive thing in all of them. Eyes made of cobalt. But not some ordinary blue eyes. Only the ones that belonged to his Aguero had this exact color. Dark, but not overbearing hue that looked almost mauve in daylight was irreplaceable. Every time Aguero was amused, his eyes shined with him, and Viole could swear on his life that they looked like a sky full of stars. He'd wait for Khun as long as it's necessary. But he hoped that the right time will come soon.

The fact that his Aguero remembered him made Viole feel relieved. Even if a detail or two of their relationship escaped from  his head. The last time they met his Aguero was gone too soon. Even though Viole would give up his own eternity for Khun, there was nothing that could remain immortal when facing this world's cruelty. The marks weren't necessarily equal with death. They meant that the soul has already perished, but brought no meaning when it came to talking about the state of one's body.

“How much do you remember, my Aguero?”

Khun blushed madly. Most people didn't dare to act informal around him, let alone call him Aguero. It didn't bother him, though.

“Not a lot, unfortunately. I don't get why everyone's in some kind of tower,” he replied.

“It's a long story, my Aguero. Too long for just one night.”

Said story wasn't the most pleasant one to tell, too. Even though the godless tower was supposed to bring them happiness, the true joy came with the disappearance of it. Viole couldn't possibly be happy knowing how many people died because of him.

“There's quite a few interesting things that I remember, though,” Khun smirked with a dangerously amused look on his face.

Viole almost didn't notice how quickly Aguero closed the distance between them.

“How loudly you were moaning my name, for example,” he whispered into Viole's ear.

Viole felt his cheeks turning crimson. Beacause of the long time he spent without his Aguero, he almost didn't remember what a tease he was. But Khun forgot one thing.

“Then you should also remember how much you liked choking on my cock, and begging for more.”

Aguero frowned. He didn't recall Viole being that bold, and it really turned him on. Their lips connected in a hungry kiss which was a beginning of a sinful act. At some point, Aguero's legs wrapped themselves around Viole's waist, and Khun wasn't sure if he had any control over them anymore.

“I think a need a reminder,” Khun said, and licked his lips. “Preferably in the bedroom, third door on the left.”

“I'll make sure that you'll never forget again.”

Quiet moans started to fill the spacious room. Tangled, blue hair partly covered Aguero's rose-red cheeks. His plump lips, now lightly swollen, were wrapped around Viole's member, and made honey-eyed man lose his mind. A stream of saliva on Aguero's pale chin, his half-closed eyes, and needy moans were enough of a reason for Viole to forget about anything else. His Aguero looked exceptionally pretty when he was so obedient. When defenseless, he seemed almost pure, and full of innocence. Or at least what was left of it. Viole felt that he's about to cum, but it was too early for

that. The fun has just started.

“Mm... Aguero,” he said with a hoarse voice. “Be a good boy, and lay on your stomach for me.”

Khun tried to stood up, but his shaky legs were a major inconvenience. Viole has already made a mess of him, and he didn't even properly touch him. When Aguero's throbbing cock touched the sheets, an obscene noise left his mouth. He wanted Viole's touch. No, not just wanted. He needed it. Now. He felt Viole's arms slowly roaming around his body. And then, a silky fabric of his own tie made contact with Khun's wrists, tying them up.

“Is it too tight?” Viole asked, and the only answer he got was an incoherent mumbling, supposedly meaning 'no'.

Viole's lips started leaving trails of kisses on Aguero's body, making their way to his inner thighs.

“Stop t-teasing me, Viole,” Khun gasped, not even entirely sure himself if the words made a proper sentence.

“I thought that good boys are more patient,” Viole replied. “You know that being disobedient results in a punishment.”

He didn't wait for any reply this time. He liked seeing Aguero like this. So vulnerable, and willing to do what Viole wanted. But he wasn't sadistic. He could pamper his Aguero a little, and skip the punishment part. Viole reached for the lube that laid on the nightstand, and let the cold substance cover Aguero's needy, twitching hole. Khun moaned loudly when Viole's member entered him.

“Harder, please!” Aguero yelled with no care that someone might hear him.

Hoarse incoherent sounds left Khun's mouth, when Viole increased the speed of his thrusts. The erotic act between them brought another deadly sin to their lives, and made it take full control of the lovers. A throbbing release of their passion ended with an intense orgasm, leaving two men in a chaos of their own bodies.

“Viole?” gasped Khun exhausted, craving for air. “I want to be yours only.”

“You're already mine, Aguero,” replied Viole. “You've always been.”

Gold eyes roamed around Khun's body once more, while pale hands untied him.

“Not in that way, Viole” Khun said. “I want to be yours forever.”

The man looked into cobalt eyes once more, as if he was looking for reassurance. Aguero was confident with what he wanted. Viole's lips left a few delicate kisses on his neck, and then bit it.

“For eternity, Aguero?”

“And even longer, Viole.”

[yandere-daydreams]

A commission for the lovely, patient @rockin-renegade, featuring Izuku/Male!Reader, and a little bit of hornieness, towards the end. I may’ve had too much fun, but in my defense, y’all never give me the opportunity to write for riding crops. 

Word Count: 4.5k

TW: Torture, Physical Abuse, Mental-Break, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-Con, and Oral Sex.

Izuku could barely remember how long he’d been dreaming of this moment. 

Sometimes it’d only been a month or two, and on other days, he could swear he’d known you for years, and been in love with you for so much longer than either of your lives could’ve ever spanned. But, he was sure of one thing, as he stared down at the crying, shaking, beautiful sight in front of him.

He knew, for a fact, that he’d never been happier.

You, on the other hand, were sobbing harder than he’d ever seen someone else sob. Izuku couldn’t blame you, really, not when he thought about it. The average civilian wasn’t used to waking up in cold, damp basements, nor did Izuku think you enjoyed being handcuffed to the metal headboard of a cot, a man twice your size leaning over you, one you probably didn’t recognize without his signature mask and suit. It broke his heart, to see how you tried to plead to someone you couldn’t see, the rag around your eyes soaked through and nearly translucent, but Izuku had to stay strong. He knew from the moment he saw you, such a weak little thing, that he would have to be the strong one in this relationship.

Of course, you hadn’t been as accepting of Izuku’s love as he’d hoped, when he first tried to ‘propose’. You’d politely avoided his attempts to get you alone, when he cornered you at your workplace, always having some excuse to busy yourself or a coworker to call you away. When Izuku changed his commute to match yours, you’d simply given the staring man an odd look and moved on, seeming to keep yourself a little farther from him every day. You ignored his gift, burned his love-letters, and on one occasion, yelled at him. He’d been trying to do something nice, trailing after you at a respectful distance as you walked down such a dangerous route, and you had the nerve to yell, threatening to call the police and making him look like some petty villain, rather than the only person keeping you safe. He’d realized you must’ve been scared, confused, that you hadn’t known it was Izuku following you on such a dark night, but…

Fuck, your mumbled words and soft whimpers were like music compared to how your voice had been, that night.

Slowly, Izuku stepped in front of you, smiling despite knowing you couldn’t see him. Right now, you’d be lucky if you could hear his footsteps, with the walls, floor, ceiling, everything in his basement sound-proofed and padded, both for your safety and for his own. Somehow, he was aware of how… strange this might look to someone else, someone who didn’t understand that such an approach was necessary. Your bedroom (your actual bedroom, he wasn’t cruel enough to keep you down here permanently) was the same way. Izuku didn’t want anyone disturbing you, nor did he think the neighbors would appreciate the noises a newly-impassioned couple may, hypothetically, make when left to their own devices.

Regardless, he peeled away your blindfold with a great deal of hesitancy, letting the fabric fall loosely around your neck. Your eyes were already red, blood-shot from crying but as vibrant as ever as you blinked against the new light, taking your time to adjust, but looking around all the same. The pathetic sounds falling from your lips stuttered to a stop as you squinted at the corners of his basement, more confused than you were scared. Izuku didn’t stop you, only smiling when the attention he so craved turned towards him, fighting the urge to wave as you continued to stare. That would be awkard, and Izuku wanted to make this process as seamless as possible.

Instead, his hands stayed at his sides, Izuku almost grabbing for the leather handle hanging from his belt. He stopped himself, just before he could draw attention to it. That was a surprise he didn’t want you to see, not if you hadn’t earned it, yet.

Eventually, though, he was forced to break the silence, taking another step forward, now close enough to touch you. Several things came to mind, when he tried to think of a way to greet you, but cuddles and kisses and confessions should probably wait, at least until you’re in a better position to recuperate. Instead, he attempted to hide the pure excitement racking his nerves, keeping his tone even, calm. Stable, because you needed him to be stable. “Do you know who I am, (Y/n)?”

Your immediate reaction was adverse, lips pursing automatically and feature scrunching up adorably, he couldn’t find a reason to be mad. “You’re… you’re a Hero, right? For the Agency downtown?” He let you think, his smile only growing wider as recognition seemed to spark in your mind. “Deku. You’re Deku.”

He nodded, more enthusiastically than he should’ve. “Yes, Deku!” Thoughtlessly, he moved to hug you, frowning when you only squirmed, leaning towards the wall, trying to get away from him. Again, his hand fell to the leather-wrapped handle hanging at his hip, but he pulled it away before he had the chance to let himself use it. You were scared. He couldn’t blame you for being scared. With a dry swallow, Izuku begrudgingly pulled back. Giving you space you didn’t need, not when you were with him. “Izuku, now. Lovers shouldn’t call each other by their aliases, it’s informal.”

At this, you stiffened, shoulders squaring as the rest of your form went rigid. You stopped crying, but the bewildered shock that crossed over your face wasn’t much better than your tears. “...lovers?”  

He couldn’t help but laugh, a deep chuckle falling out before he could stop it. When his fingers wrapped around the handle next, he let them, not resisting the call of the object he’s been dying to use. “Don’t act so surprised, it wouldn’t be appropriate for us to live together if we weren’t lovers. And… we love each other. Lovers do that. They live together, and they love each other. You just haven’t accepted it, yet.” He forced himself to take a deep breath, stopping, thinking, deliberating. He was more collected, when he continued, if only because of how badly he needed to be. “But, that’s why we’re here! I’m going to help you!”

“Help me? What do you mean ‘help me’?” You snapped, straining against the handcuffs. Something switched-on inside of you, an anger Izuku hadn’t expected swiftly boiling to the surface. “Oh my- you’re the fucking creep who’s been stalking me, aren’t you? I thought I made it clear that however you think I feel, you’re wrong. And you’re a Pro-Hero too, isn’t that perfect? I have fucking Deku stalking me, how could things get-”

The words died in your throat with a sharp, loud snap, the sound seeming to catch you off guard more than the sudden pain did. You recoiled a second after the impact, pulling your legs back towards you, curling into the ball you’d just relaxed enough to get yourself out of. You’d been too preoccupied with your outburst to notice it when Izuku unclipped the sleek, black riding-crop from its place on his belt, or its existence at all until Izuku saw fit to use it, striking somewhere without many nerves, aiming for your lower calf. It was a warning, and you knew that.

Which meant you also knew that it could get so, so much worse, if Izuku deemed it necessary to make it worse.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” He explained, as calmly as he was able to. Izuku’d gone through many, many interrogations, and even if this was a little more personal than the average session, it was similar enough to warrant comparison. He would ask questions, and you would answer them correctly, or face the consequences of treating your boyfriend like someone you should try to avoid. “You’re going to stop lying, be honest and tell the truth, and I won’t have to use this, again. Doesn’t that sound easy, sweetheart?”

You were still, for a moment, then shook your head furiously. “What? No, the fuck are you-”

There was another crack, this one to your thigh, forcing you to cringe and draw back, your body now pressed stiffly to the headboard. The first strike had been unprecise, the preparation took to long and Izuku hesitated during the swing, but the second was better, it came more naturally. He let himself fall into your response, too, lingering on the way your features tightened in pain, the way the skin under his swatched darkened and swelled. It hurt, but you deserved it. And you deserved it because you were wrong.

You had to be wrong. If you weren’t wrong, than Izuku was, and…

Izuku couldn’t be wrong.

You scowled, opening your mouth, Izuku holding the crop up as a silent threat. Your expression dropped instantly, a soft whimper escaping from your lips as you sunk into yourself. He didn’t say anything as you fought to keep your composure, a vain effort, as your failure would prove. “You… you can’t keep me here.” When your voice broke and shook, Izuku almost regretted hitting you. Almost. “I… this is illegal. You’re hurting me.”

“I wouldn’t hurt you if I didn’t have to.” His voice was flat, but warm all the same. Izuku didn’t stop himself from sitting, forcing you to move back as he slotted himself into the cot’s empty space, only then realizing how thin your matress really was. Hopefully, he would be able to move you up to your bedroom tonight, but maybe spending a night in such poor conditions would teach you to be more appreciative of what he could give you. “I want to love you,” He paused, cupping your cheek with his free hand, drawing circles in your skin with his thumb. You tried to twist away, and he tightened his grip. “But you’ll have to love me, too.”

But, you didn’t love him. You didn’t even try. Instead, you fought, struggling against your restraints violently, nearly knowing Izuku to the floor as you kicked out blindly, your shoulder making contact with his chest, Izuku grunting as he forced himself to keep from relenting. Reflexively, the hand on your cheek dropped to your neck, finding somewhere thin and squeezing until your mouth fell open, sputtering for air,  even as you continued to thrash against him. He was leaning over you by the time he realized he was moving, crouching just high enough to lash at your stomach, not bothering to go through a layer of fabric, this time. He damn-near relished in the way your lips parted, tears beginning to form in the corners of your eyes with every proceeding snap. After five, six, a dozen blows, Izuku forced himself to be the more mature one, pushing you into the mattress as he got up. Still, he gave himself one more primal, hard blow before stopping, this one to your ribs, shirt having ridden up during the struggle. Bruises had already begun to form, spanning from your hip to your chest, much Izuku’s sick, sick satisfaction.

But, you weren’t done. “You’re insane!” You yelled, not bothering to keep your voice down. “What kind of psycho are you? This is crazy!”

He grit his teeth, digging his nails into the leather. “This is love.”

“People don’t whip the person they love! They don’t handcuff their partners to beds after stalking them for months!”

“One more word, one more fucking word-”

To your credit, you didn’t say anything. Instead, you screamed, loud and wordless, obviously trying to attract the attention outside of Izuku's home, someone you thought would help you. Izuku didn’t warn you, either, letting One For All run rampant through his veins as Izuku tore through your handcuffs as easily as a cheap, plastic toy. Silently, he threw you to the cement floor, watching as you tried to scramble to your feet, only to be forced back down with a single foot on your back. It took the blink of an eye to tear off your shirt, and half of that to bring down the crop over and over and over, until your skin was raw, torn, bleeding, welts forming on anything that wasn’t already a bloody, visceral mess.

When you screaming stopped, he didn’t, closing his eyes as the repetitive sounds of skin-on-leather filled the room. Only when you went limp under his foot did he stop, letting his arms drop to his sides as he dug his heel into the base of your spine, grimacing as you writhed weakly. He didn’t know what he’d been hoping for, really. Maybe that you would pass out, letting Izuku restrain you again and start all of this over, or your apologies wouldn’t have to be prompted. But, deep down, he knew you weren’t going to make this easy for him.

You never had before, after all.  

With a great, great amount of self-restraint, Izuku forced himself to drop the riding crop, letting it land somewhere next to your head. You made no grab for the weapon, nor did you move in the slightest, only whimpering when he kneeled, looking down on you, running a finger over the torn gashes in your back. Now, you flinched, attempting to curl into yourself before a firm hand closed around your shoulder, stopping any further distractions, things as small as the uneven pants you were taking in beginning to worry Izuku.

“I’ll say this again, now that you’re listening.” He rubbed slow circles in an uninjured patch on your shoulder, wondering if he should tend to you sooner, rather than later. For all the… research he’d done, Izuku hadn’t expected there to be this much bruising. Maybe he’d gone a little too far, after all. “I love you. I want to take care of you. I will, but you have to let me. No more fighting back. Do you understand?”

There was no response. Izuku considers the possibility that you were unconscious, but dismissed it just as easily. Unconscious people don’t cry that much.

“I love you,” He repeats, firmer, this time. He turned you over with one hand, prying you away from your self-made shelter, keeping his hand around your neck to keep you from getting up. “Because I love you, what am I trying to do?

Your eyes were still closed, tears fresh on your cheeks, but you whimpered nonetheless, choking out a response. Your voice was hoarse, probably due to the screaming. He’d have to get you something to drink. “You… you’re trying to take care of me.”

“I want to take care of you, you need me to take care of you.” It was like giving a stray dog a good home, for one example. You were lonely before, miserable, he was sure. He saw you with friends, and he knew you had a family, but he couldn’t find it in himself to believe that you were happy with them. You couldn’t be happy, not if you were away from your soulmate. And Izuku couldn’t be happy if he knew you were out there, alone and putting yourself at risk, away from the person you should be with. “And what do I need you to do, angel? And open your eyes. Look at me, when you answer.”

The hesitation was brief, this time. You opened your eyes first, cringing when you saw Izuku leaning over you, the boy smiling sympathetically, encouragingly. You didn’t relax, but you met his eyes regardless, your hands coming to rest on his. It must’ve been a sign that you were accepting him, finally. You were trying to hold his hand! Why else would you be trying to pull him away from your neck? “I have to let you.”

“By?”

You swallowed, avoiding his eyes. You were so shy, Izuku would have to break you out of your shell, too. “By not fighting back.”

Your posture had changed completely, no longer defensive or assertive, no longer trying to keep him at a distance. There was an uncomfortable shift, the slight movement to take the pressure off the wounds pressed against hard (but sanitary, as he’d made sure of), but you made no meaningful attempt to get away, resigning yourself to submission. It wasn’t what he’d aimed for, he wanted reciprocation, not submission, but he knew how he would start to fix that.

He didn’t rush you, as he helped you sit up, allowing you to take your time and not complaining when you whimpered, failing to take the brunt of the pain you’d forced him to give you. But, Izuku didn’t ask for permission, either, as he slid the remaining rags of your shirt over your head, disregarding the ruined fabric before letting himself rub over your exposed chest, feeling how warm you were, how soft your skin was, compared to his own. Izuku wanted to fall into the moment, to focus on the fact that you were here, that you were in front of him. Just the sight made him excited, eager to feel more, eager to see more.

It made him want to show you just how much he loved you.

But, you had to go and move, to cross your arms and squirm, and successfully pull Izuku out of his trace, bring his attention back to the matter-at-hand. Back to the fact that you didn’t love him, that you were putting-up with his affection, not accepting him. It was all Izuku could to keep from frowning as he leaned forward, kissing the corner of your mouth, comforted slightly by the fact that you didn’t pull away. He was kneeling in front of you, on one knee between your open legs. It was an intimate position, and could be a romantic one, with a little work.

He hoped you saw it that way, too.

“You’re going so well, I’m so proud of you,” He praised, petting through your hair as he stood. He towered above you, this way, pushing you down when you moved to follow him. You were on your knees, eye-level with his thighs, when you stopped. He only continued to comb through your hair, the calm smile never leaving his lips. “You’re doing great, and you must be so tired. I promise, I’ll take you up to your room when we’re done.” He paused, giving you the opportunity to react. You didn’t, and Izuku continued. “I just need to make sure you’ll be more considerate, from now on.”

He should let you go, bring you up to your room and let you sleep, but there was something so satisfying about having you sit still and wait, your gaze never leaving his face as you tried to predict what he would do, what he would do to you, more specifically. You were anxious, and he understood that. This was a big step, and it may have been too soon to take it, in all honesty. But, this was what Izuku wanted. A relationship that worked both ways, something equal, where you repayed all those hours of watching and protecting with something he asked from you. This was good, for both of you. It’d teach you how to behave, and more importantly, show you how relationships were supposed to be, without overstepping his boundaries. This was better than forcing something worse onto you, wasn’t it?

Sure, it would get rid of the problem straining at his jeans, but that was just a bonus.

He holds your head in place with one hand, nearly attacking his belt with the other, careful to just pull his pants and boxers down enough to get a hand on his half-hard cock. Your eyes crossed in an attempt to see it, a grimace now etched into your features as you tried to squirm away, but Izuku only tightened his hold on you, stifling any movements that could’ve interrupted the moment you two were about to have.

It was funny, how you thought anything could get out out of this.

“It won’t be bad, you’ll make me so happy,” He reassured, his free hand closing around his length, slowly pumping up, just enough to feel something more than a teasing sample of pleasure. It didn’t take him long at all to fill-out, not with such a lovely sight in front of him. Meanwhile, his grip drifted down to your jaw, tugging at the corner of your mouth until you were forced to accommodate him, his thumb slipping in and prodding anything it could reach, Izuku fighting the urge to moan at just the thought of being inside of somewhere that warm and soft and incredible. Unconsciously, your tongue pressed against his thumb, swirling around the finger, and Izuku could hardly keep from cumming in his hand.

He couldn’t wait any longer, he just couldn’t. With a strong jerk to your hair, your mouth opened, any scream or sound you’d been planning to let out suddenly muffled by the cock being shoved through your lips. Izuku stopped abruptly, hardly remembering to pull his hand away before dragging you closer, your form falling against his legs as you lost balance, subsequently gagging, choking around him, your throat tightening and fluttering as you struggled to swallow around something you were thoroughly unprepared to take. Izuku wasn’t new to this kind of thing, not by any means. He’d had blowjobs before, drunk experiences with friends that weren’t spoken about the next morning and awkward interactions with fans, desperate to show their gratitude between floors on elevators and in cramped bathroom stalls, but those felt foreign, unpleasant, compared to this, if only because it was you.

(Y/n), his (Y/n). His lover, his boyfriend, his soulmate, someone who would only ever do this for him. Because you loved him, because you only loved him. Because you wouldn’t even think of ever loving another person like you loved Izuku, not again.

With a blissful shudder, he pulled out, his concentration switching to the head, grazing it against your teeth for a more primal source of stimulation and rubbing it against your tongue, before plunging back in, keeping his thrusts short but fast, determined to keep his cock inside of you for as long as possible at any given time. He could hardly hear the words falling from his own mouth, an incomprehensible mix of murmurs and moans, each sound blending with the next. “Good boy, good boy,” He panted, if only out of habit, countless scenarios he’d already ‘planned out’ playing through his mind much faster than they should’ve.  “I love you so much, you’re perfect. I should’ve done this so much sooner.” He grinned, dragging you closer to him, his smile never faltering as you pounded and clawed at his covered thighs. “I’m gonna keep you all to myself.”

In the end, Izuku didn’t get the chance to enjoy it for very long. One For All was an odd quirk, like that, making most of his boy so strong, so resistant, but incredibly sensitive, at the same time. Every nerve was inter-connected, sending a thousand signals to the rest of his body at any given second, and right now, each one of those synapses was completely focused on the feeling of your warm, wet mouth taking in his cock, your tongue rubbing against the part of his body most willing to accept anything you had to give him. All it took was a glance towards your face, cheeks blistered, red eyes puffy from crying and spit beginning to soak your lips, to finish Izuku off.

He raked through your hair as he climaxed, the sensation like a weight being lifted off his shoulder, like a fresh of breath air, more relieving than it was ‘orgasmic’. Staying as deep inside of you as he can, his fingers clamping down on your scalp as you jump, making one last effort to get away as cum hit the roof of your mouth. Izuku didn’t let you, fighting off the over-sensitivity that came with remaining inside of you, refusing to pull-out as you refused to swallow.

You were always the stubborn one, weren’t you? What else had he expected?

He sighed wistfully, detangling the knots he’d been responsible for forming, but never shifting. Your panic was quickly turning into resistance, but Izuku remained undeterred, remaining hopeful as you started to tremble. “You’re alright, everything’ll be fine,” He told you, his eyes moving up towards the staircase, to the basement door. “I just need you to swallow. Then I’ll let you go.”

You didn’t, only forcing out gargled, coughing noises Izuku didn’t recognize.

He smiled a little wider.

“Swallow, baby,” He repeated, his tone nothing short of sickeningly sweet. “I’m not bluffing. It takes a lot of patience to be a hero, you know. I’ll keep you here until you swallow it.”

And, with a strangled sob, you did, your lips only closing for a second after he retreated before you cringed, your mouth remaining open as you practically punched at your cheeks, wiping away your tears as furiously as possible. You were crumpled, half-naked and collapsing onto yourself, but Izuku couldn’t find it in himself to feel anything but overjoyed at the sight of his lovely little partner.

He whispered quiet ‘I love you’s and ‘I’ll make you feel good next time’s as he gathered you up in his arms, cradling you against his chest despite how much you clearly didn’t want to be held. You were handled softly, your back always pressed against something smooth and clean, but he could still hear you cursing him out under your breath, even as he littered kisses and pecks across anything he could reach. This wasn’t ideal, but it was a start. You wanted him to hear you, but you knew what would happen if he took you too seriously.

Your face was buried in his shirt by the time he made it to your room, right next to his, as it should be. You two would share a room eventually, but that could wait until you weren’t in such an unstable state. He was happy that you didn’t scream when the velvet-lined, snug shackle closed around your ankle, any more spats seeming annoying, compared to how roughly his confession had gone. He’d put a lot of effort into your room, and he was glad you appreciated that.

You did appreciate everything he did for you, right?

If how tightly you clung to your comforter was anything to go off of, you must’ve.

Izuku knelt next to you, taking a minute to be by your side before he decided to leave. You were beautiful, disheveled and messy and stunning, in his care and finally getting used to it, now that you’ve gone through your first (and hopefully only) punishment. He kissed your shoulder lightly, lingering just long enough to admire his precious boyfriend.

Everything would be perfect, now.

[bylerchoseme]

Very pro Elsanna. You’ve been warned. Read at own risk.

Let’s start at the very beginning. Anna and Elsa were little children when they had to go separate ways. Prior to that, Anna’s memories with Elsa were erased which was for her protection. Anna’s memories with Elsa after the distance were limited. She doesn’t remember much. Anyone that argues they weren’t separated doesn’t know what they’re talking about. Living in the same castle and Anna trying to reach out to Elsa by her door doesn’t count.

Elsa and Anna didn’t grow up together to fully comprehend what a sisterly relationship entails. They couldn’t be taught to act like sisters because neither was involved with each other. There wasn’t time for them to learn what makes sense and doesn’t make sense (sisterly wise). These two girls were living separate lives for 13 years.

Elsa was a grown woman and Anna an adult by the time they crossed paths again. As a 21 year old, Elsa was a true and real woman because that’s the age where it all starts. Anna on the other hand was 18. I don’t understand how people were expecting them to have a sisterly dynamic when that’s impossible. When you spend your whole life away from a sister figure, there is no way you can see them as a sister later.

If we go all the way back to Elsa’s coronation, Anna was acting nervous and unable to talk to Elsa in a sisterly way because she didn’t have a clue. When Elsa called Anna beautiful, she became a nervous wreck and said “You’re more beautifuller.” She was talking too fast without being in control of the words that came next. This whole scene was suspicious on both ends of the spectrum.

After a while, Elsa transformed into this goddess looking human with a braid. The second Elsanna reunion was Anna being completely caught off guard and mesmerized by Elsa’s appearance and becoming speechless. The look she gave her was not sisterly. If Anna had seen Elsa in that form before the transformation, her reaction would have been minimal. Anna had to find Elsa in the castle for a reason.

The biggest moment was after Anna unfroze and Elsa asked her “Why did you do this?” There was a pause before Anna answered. Anna responded with an “I love you.” The tone of the ‘I love you’ was like a confession and not saying it immediately usually means the person is interested in the other. Don’t forget the “Only an act of true love can thaw a frozen heart.”

All Elsa did for 99.9% of the time in Frozen II was push Anna away. She wanted to protect her but you would think she’d be past all of that after the ending in Frozen I. There is a bigger truth to why she didn’t want Anna in her presence this time around.

Frozen II made me raise eyebrows because of the deliberate emphasis on Elsanna. I was expecting much less from them because I thought maybe Disney didn’t want to encourage the shipping anymore. I was surprised by the amount of content we’ve gotten. It was like an early Christmas present.

At the beginning of Frozen II, we saw Elsa and Anna strolling Arendelle at night and leaning on each other while walking which is what couples do. As the song was drawing to a close, Anna pulled Elsa so close to her and they were comfortable when singing “Holding on tight to you.” Maybe too comfortable with the close physical contact.

The next big Elsanna scene in Frozen II was when they cuddled on the bed. Anna was not only singing a melody to her but she was also caressing her. I heard Elsa say something along the lines of “I know what you’re doing.” When Anna became tired, she rested her head on top of Elsa’s and they were asleep like that for a while.

Don’t get me started on the amount of times Anna touched Elsa. She was the initiator for the most of the touching like when she jumped behind her in the forest. Elsa initiated the touching with Anna a few times and those were either subtle or just in particular moments depending on circumstances.

Their constant need to touch isn’t a sisterly bond. No chance. They’re only sisterly days was when they were kids and even those were numbered. They didn’t develop together as sisters. They wouldn’t have been able to remember sisterly interactions.

If ‘Show Yourself’ is an indication of Elsa’s growth and acceptance, we know what happened next. She was finally able to let herself have feelings and not hide her true persona. She was finally Elsa. She didn’t have to hide anymore. I do want to discuss some of the lyrics.

This whole part:

Come my darling homeward bound

I am found

Show yourself, step into the power

Throw yourself into something new

You are the one you’ve been waiting for

All of my life

Show Yourself

Elsa has reached a level of self confidence. She was ready to show her true colors. All it took was for her to see and hear her mom’s spirit. Once she finally discovered the voice and found peace, the rest was very telling. I think throwing herself into something new meant becoming aware of her feelings for Anna. She had to show that part of herself without feeling hopeless.

Finally, the moment everyone has been waiting for. The beach scene between Elsa and Anna was the most romantic and deepest scene I have ever seen in any animation let alone real shows and movies. I actually had a headcanon they would reunite at the beach.

The beach scene showed us how much Elsa and Anna are in love with each other and the extent of their love has no limit. They love each other unconditionally. There are no words to describe their romance. I am still stunned by the things I’ve witnessed. I can’t process anything because their moment on the beach was indescribable,

Anna’s and Elsa’s desire to be together is without a doubt overwhelming. They’re so in sync. It’s crazy. I love the fact ‘Show Yourself’ had to occur first before the long awaited reunion. A lot of people are saying this is the real Elsa. Well I have some news for you. The real Elsa acted different with Anna on the beach. She wasn’t just straightforward but very honest in regards to being in love with Anna.

The lip puckering, the lip staring, the finger/hand stroking, the lack of personal space, the flirting glances, as well as many other things was intentional. There aren’t accidents with animation. Anna and Elsa are the love story of Frozen. Animators knew what they were doing. Part of their job is to pay attention to detail to make sure we see what they want us to see. Although, you would need to have a good eye to catch stuff like that. Elsanna is the main couple.

Elsa pushed Anna away in this movie because she wasn’t ready to accept her feelings for Anna. She wanted to distance from Anna to avoid temptation. She purposely sent Anna away because she couldn’t deal with how much she loved her. Elsa was scared. She didn’t know what to do and got herself out of the situation. Love makes you do crazy things.

Show Yourself brought Elsa back to reality and allowed her to embrace loving Anna without being ashamed. Of course the song can have many different meanings and this was one of them. One thing I want all of you to know is that I am not just interpreting the song based on what I want it to mean. I took lyrics that best related to Elsanna.

To sum all of this up.......Elsa and Anna were separated as kids because the writers didn’t want them to have sisterly energy. These two beautiful women were meant to fall in love. I mean think about it. Why reunite them when they’re all grown up? They couldn’t help falling in love.

Keep in mind that when Elsa left for the castle on her own in the first movie and transformed, Anna couldn’t believe her eyes. She didn’t think Elsa could be even more beautiful than how she remembered her prior to Elsa leaving. When Elsa transformed in the second movie and Anna saw her, she fell in love with her all over again because Elsa had a whole different level of beauty and more to give to Anna. It’s impossible for Anna to not be in love with Elsa. The two separations gave Anna new perspective. The difference was Elsa was just as much in love with Anna after the second transformation reunion.

[feather-aesthetic]

The Rewards of Being Loved

A/N: Wrote this when I watched the show last year, never finished it... well today I finished it.

Rating: T

Fandom: The Haunting of Hill House

Pairing: Sisterly Shirley and Theo

Summary: Theo explains her powers to Shirley, and they grow closer because of it.

Words: 2,500

Night has fallen on the Crain-Harris household, and the oft-lively home is still, and mostly quiet.  In the living room, two figures sit side-by-side on the couch, a cheesy Netflix rom-com playing on the television.  Theo Crain curls her legs underneath her, internally rolling her eyes at Shirley’s choice of movie.  Even though she doesn’t live right next door in Shirley’s guest house anymore, she still visits at least once a week, often bringing Trish along with her for dinner.  

This week, though, with Kevin chaperoning Jayden’s Boy Scout camping trip and Allie at a sleepover for the evening, Trish invented a work function to attend, not-so-gently encouraging Theo to spend some quality time with her sister.  And it’s not like she minds hanging out with her sister, in fact a growing part of her is so, so excited, but this movie is just… awful.  Theo sighs again as the female lead complains to her friend group about her love life.  She’s trying to contain her boredom, but she must not be subtle enough because Shirley shifts beside her, taking in a deep breath.

“Theo?”

“Sorry,” Theo sighs.  “This just really isn’t my thing.”

“What?  No, this movie is terrible,” Shirley hastens to reassure her.  “That’s not what I…”  Theo turns to her.  It’s not like Shirley to avoid speaking her mind, so whatever she’s thinking about, it must be pretty important.

“What’s wrong?”  Shirley’s eyes flicker around the room for a moment before settling on Theo, meeting her steady gaze.  She laughs, then, breaking the eye contact.

“I can’t talk to you when you’re making your therapist face.”  Theo cracks a grin, huffing out a relieved laugh, and the suddenly somber atmosphere is broken.  Theo scrubs at her face, trying to wipe away the so-called ‘therapist expression’ and rearrange her features into something more sisterly, less professional.

“Sorry, sorry.  What’s up, Shirl?”  Her sister looks at her for a moment, fond smile playing on her lips, and Theo tries not to bask in it too much.  

“Can you tell me about your... abilities?”  Her gloveless hands feel suddenly bare.  Theo instinctively stiffens, clamming up despite her best efforts to relax, and she can see Shirley cringe slightly.  To her credit, though, she pushes on, trying to explain.

“I tried so hard, for so long, to pretend that we were normal, and—I want to understand you, Theo.”  Theo pauses, processing for such a long moment that Shirley almost dismisses the entire idea.  The movie goes on quietly in the background, providing a muted white noise to their conversation.  

“What do you want to know?”  Her voice is low and quiet, so much softer than the usual commanding tone or calm therapist voice she uses.  Of all her siblings, Shirley was always the most resistant to Theo’s unique abilities.  Theo explained it away as disbelief, or maybe even a fear of having her innermost thoughts broadcast over the surface of Theo’s skin.  To have her openly talk about it means more to Theo than her sister will ever know.  

“What happens when you touch something?”  Alright, so they’re starting from the basics.

“When I touch an object,” Theo begins, twisting her fingers together, “I experience the memories and emotions attached to that object.  The stronger the emotion, the easier it is for me to see the memory.”  Her face darkens as she recalls the couch in that foster family’s basement, the terror and revulsion that overcame her as she stared up at the wooden ceiling.  

“And when you touch another person?”  

“I can feel their emotions, see things about them, things that they might want to keep hidden.  I can tell if they’re lying.”  An image of Luke, his young eyes filled with trust, gazing dejectedly up at her while he described his experience in the basement of Hill House, flashes through her mind.  Nell, and that terrible nothingness that had infected her like a plague.

“So if you touched me right now, you would feel what I’m feeling?”  Theo nods, a slow incline of her chin.  “Do you… want to?” Shirley asks hesitantly.  Theo shrugs.  

“Sometimes,” she responds, deliberately misinterpreting the question.  She sighs when Shirley fixes her with a look, one that lets her know her older sister sees right through her.

“Why?” Theo asks, years of secrecy making her blunt.  Now it’s Shirley’s turn to shrug, albeit more cautiously than her sister had.  

“I don’t know, you just talk about it like you only ever feel bad things.  Don’t you want to feel good things sometimes?”  

“Of course I do, I just—I never know what I’m going to feel until I’m touching someone, and then it’s too late.”  Shirley flicks her eyes away, her equivalent of biting her lip nervously, then offers, 

“I’m feeling good things right now.”  Theo looks down at her recently ungloved hands, considering.  It’s not just an offering for Theo’s sake, but a genuine ceding of ground on Shirley’s part as well.  There’s a quote Theo has read in an article somewhere; “If we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known.”  In Theo’s case, her knowledge of whoever she touches is total, and she understands how terrifying that notion can be.  For her sister to offer this is a huge show of trust.  Shirley still isn’t looking at her, but she brings her head up sharply when she feels Theo hesitantly brush fingertips over her palm.  Theo gasps at the sudden bursts of love, of pride, of joy that wash over her, filling up her chest with a welling sort of light and tingling down the backs of her forearms.  Their gazes were locked, but Theo can’t experience her sister’s overwhelming love for her while looking into her eyes, so she drops her vision to their touching hands.  They’re side-by-side on the couch, facing each other, and Shirley’s gaze is still locked on her face, studying her expressions.

“You feel happiness in your arms,” Theo murmurs, and Shirley’s face lights up with delight even as her cheeks tinge pink from the observation.  

“You feel the way I experience emotions?”  Theo grins at the revelation that’s just dawning on Shirley, and because she can’t contain two people’s happiness coursing through her behind a stony expression any longer.  Her knuckles are resting in Shirley’s palm now, and she slowly lifts her hand to let the contact fall away.  

“Mom said I was sensitive,” she offers as a response.  There’s a moment where Theo’s afraid she might have ruined the moment by bringing up their mother, but then Shirley grins a little mischievously.

“Well I know you’re sensitive, Theo,” she teases, elbowing her gently.  Theo relaxes into her role as a sibling, rolling her eyes and shoving Shirley in retaliation.

“Shut up, Shirl.”  But the amused look hasn’t left Shirley’s eyes, and Theo recoils slightly at a nudge to her side.

“You know, you really should be nicer to your older sister, Theo.”  Theo squirms at the continued jostling, trying to ignore the fingers that have drifted sneakily over to her sides and are prodding at the flesh there.  

“Shirley,” she whines, hoping that it will be enough to deter her sister.  Shirley grins wider, poking in between her ribs in places she knows Theo can’t stand.  Theo’s been making a valiant effort of staring at the ceiling with her lips tightly sealed, hoping that her sister will get bored and abandon the game before it’s begun, but at this new attack she’s unable to remain still, and her hands shoot up to catch Shirley’s wrists just as the first burst of true laughter escapes her.  

“Don’t,” she pleads, but it’s more breathless and giggly than serious, and they both know that if she really meant it Theo would be halfway across the room by now.  Shirley takes this as an invitation, and when her grip shifts and skin brushes skin, Theo gets the barest glimpse of her plans just before she’s bowled over by one Shirley Crain-Harris.  Quick fingers bypass her makeshift defenses like she’d never thrown up her arms at all, gently pinching at sides and ribs in a way that Shirley knows drives Theo crazy.  

It’s been decades since Shirley has done this, but she still remembers all her sister’s ticklish spots from when they used to play together.  The spots on her sides that make her bubbly laughter morph into more of a cackle, the way she squirms harder when Shirley pinches at her hipbones, the redness in her cheeks and the push of her heels into the couch when fingers manage to sneak under her arms; they’re still familiar reactions, but Shirley confirms each one with a widening smirk, reveling in her rediscovered power.  

Theo, for her part, is in hysterics, bubbly giggles jumping or turning into squeaks when Shirley switches spots.  

“Shirl!” she gasps between bouts of laughter, not ready to beg her to stop but unwilling to just lay there and take it.  It’s been ages since she’s been tickled, especially by her sister, and she’s almost forgotten how simultaneously fun and maddening it can be.  It makes her want to jump out of her skin in the best way possible.  

“What is it, Theo?” Shirley asks, as though they’re having a normal conversation and she isn’t tickling her sister half to death.  Whatever response Theo was formulating is cut off by her squeal when Shirley unexpectedly finds a weak spot at the base of her ribs.  Shirley laughs at the reaction, squeezing sporadically and milking the spot for all it’s worth.  

“Well, that’s new,” she teases, lobster-clawing her way up Theo’s ribs before sneaking back down to attack the recently discovered tickle spot.  Theo squeals again, throwing her head back and squeezing her eyes shut at the sensation.  She didn’t even know she was that ticklish before now, and the feeling is quickly becoming too much for her to handle.  

“Shit, Shihihihirl!” she half-shrieks, thrashing.  She’s lost all hope of dignity, and can now only hope that her sister will have mercy.  Fortunately for her, Shirley seems to understand that she’s just about reached her limit, and retreats to the other end of the couch, bearing a sly grin that only a sound victory can bring.  Shirley leans back against the arm of the couch, stretching her legs across the piece of furniture towards her sister and listening as Theo gasps for breath and tries to pull herself together.  

“Been a while since we’ve done that, huh?” Shirley murmurs, smile still tugging at her lips.  Theo sits up slowly, pink-faced and giggling while she recovers from the playful torment.  

“Yeah,” she agrees, a certain lightness in her tone that Shirley hasn’t heard since their childhood.  “You know what we haven’t done in even longer?”  She’s crawling up the couch menacingly now, biting her lip to contain the brilliant smile threatening to break through.  Shirley has a feeling she knows exactly where this is going, but she allows herself to sink further into the cushions, tamping down on a grin of her own.

“What’s that?”  Theo is looming over her, fingers poised to strike, and Shirley shrinks back but doesn’t move to stop her.  If she plays it cool, doesn’t provoke her sister by trying to run away or fend her off (turning it into a competition will only make it worse for Shirley when Theo finally manages to pin her down) then maybe she’ll go easy on her.  Her ploy fails, however, when Theo raises an eyebrow at her, tells her she knows exactly what Shirley’s trying to do, and pounces.  

“No!” Shirley squeals when Theo goes straight for some of her worst spots, spidering quick fingers across her stomach and fluttering gently around her neck.  She scrunches up as best she can, writhing between her sister and the back of the couch.  Unlike Theo, Shirley’s squirming is actually productive, and she actively tries to escape, so Theo has a much harder time getting her to keep still long enough to tickle with any intensity.  Even without much tickling, though, Shirley’s a mess—arching her back and squealing whenever the lightest touches connect with her skin, even through her clothes.  Theo might not fight back, but Shirley is way more ticklish than she ever was.  

She looks up to find Theo grinning at her, and though she can’t feel emotions like Theo can, the love shining through her sister’s eyes and through her smile is clear.  She reaches out, crippled by the fits of uncontrollable giggles Theo’s fingers are causing, to launch a counterattack, searching out Theo’s sides and digging in until the other woman backs off, unable to concentrate enough to continue her assault.  Before Shirley can get herself together, though, she feels an elbow lock around her ankles, and then nails are scraping their way up her bare feet.  She shrieks, arching her back and kicking her legs in Theo’s grasp.  Theo tightens her hold in response, grin so wide her cheeks ache, and scribbles fingers all over her soles.  Shirley loses it, dissolving into hearty, unrestrained laughter punctuated with little squeals when fingers dip dangerously close to the inside of her arches or underneath her toes.  

“Theo!  Theohoho—nohohohoho!”  The pleas are barely intelligible through her laughter, but the torment ends quickly when Theo’s fingers start touching the skin of her feet and suddenly Theo is kicking out at nothing, overcome with the same breathless laughter pinning Shirley to the couch.  Theo lets go of her ankles in an effort to escape the contact at the same time Shirley realises what’s happened.  Shirley’s hoarse laughter turns genuine at Theo’s predicament, while Theo retires to her end of the couch to mock-sulk.  

“That’s so unfair,” she grumbles, expression forming the beginnings of a pout.  Shirley offers her a self-satisfied smile, stretching her back against the arm of the couch.

“For you, maybe.”  Theo’s displeased expression only deepens.  She leans forward, and for a moment Shirley thinks she’s going to try for a rematch and tenses up, but Theo just drapes herself across Shirley’s thighs, head resting on her stomach.  One of Shirley’s hands goes automatically to the top of her sister’s head, beginning to smooth out the ruffled curls with slow, soothing strokes.  Theo hasn’t been so tactile with her in decades, and she’s loathe to overstep… but her hair is still just as soft as when they were kids cuddled up in bed together, and maybe Shirley has missed this more than she realised.  Theo squirms a bit, getting more comfortable, and mumbles something that Shirley doesn’t quite catch over the credits music of the romcom they were watching.  She hums questioningly to get Theo to repeat herself.

“Love you,” Theo says, half asleep at the feeling of her sister petting her hair.  Shirley smiles down at her, a tear deep inside her heart mending at the words.

“Love you too, Theo.  Completely.”

[angelicspaceprince]

Meet Crowley before his fall and since heaven have feelings for him (mainly for loving your creations)

Part Two: I am the anon of meeting crow before he fell and forgot to add: when you came to earth you were afraid he wouldn’t remember you or worse that he didn’t like you anymore because you didn’t fall

As a side note - I’m considering not accepting hcs for things like these because it feels weird? But I’ll see how I go, definitely will answer this one and do an announcement if things change.

The first time Crowley saw you since he fell, it was two weeks after meeting Aziraphale in Rome

He panicked, not certain how to approach the situation, so instead he bolted.

He always loved you, especially your creative side

You were the one who created Alpha Centauri and came up with the idea of binary star systems

Music, the written word, whales, dolphins, hair ties, live theatre, dancing, alcohol? All of your brilliant ideas that you passed down onto humans.

Most of which he loved to partake in, or at the very least, found majestic.

But, when he fell, he didn’t hear from you.

He figured you were banned or had slowly forgotten him over time

To be honest, he didn’t want to find out

As time went on, you had many ‘near misses’ with Crowley.

When he moved on to Scotland for a little while? You ended up there too.

Shakespeare? You were in the stands watching on.

Hell, he’s pretty sure you were in the park when he asked Aziraphale for the holy water

In the same restaurant when he planned an elaborate plot to get said holy water

In Aziraphale’s bookshop multiple times when he was there

His instant reaction then was to just go into his snake form and hide in the far back corner where, surely, you’d never see him

The only time he couldn’t run away was when you came down to help Aziraphale with the apoco-didn’t.

You arrive just before the boys have access through the gate. You barely blink an eye at Aziraphale’s new vessel, too distracted by the sight before you

“Please don’t hide from me again, Crowley.”

You can see the panic in his eyes as he sees the hurt in yours.

“I know you didn’t want to see me after your fall, but now really isn’t the time to be avoiding me. We have to save the boy.”

Aziraphale has to quickly reassure a hyperventilating Crowley that you were, very much, on their side

It wasn’t until you approached him that Aziraphale realised why his demonic friend was panicking

“Did you forget me?”

“No.”

“Do you hate me?”

“No.”

“Then why did you avoid me?”

“I thought you hated me. Or worse, that by being with me you’d fall too. I didn’t want you to go through that pain.”

“Crowley, we were friends long before you fell and I intended to be friends long after. You just kept avoiding me.”

You had to wait to finish your conversation because, ya know. Apocalypse.

When you saw Aziraphale next, he was acting strange but you brushed it off.

Crowley had been avoiding you as per usual

“You sure he cares about me, Zira?”

You were there for your usual moaning and groaning sesh

“I mean, I was sneaky about everything, wasn’t I? All the miracles to make sure the two of you were never caught together or doing each other favours or the fact that I deliberately fucked shit up when he took that damned hundred year nap so he could stay on Earth? He never found out about that, did he? He’d hate me if he ever did.”

Aziraphale is quiet for a moment before speaking, clearly choosing his words wisely.

“I know for a fact, that every time he looked at your creations that he remembered every detail about you. Every time he saw you, he made him miss you even more. He thought by avoiding you, he was doing you good, but I’m certain that if he could do it all over again, he would have made contact earlier.”

Funnily enough, after that conversation that Aziraphale could not remember, Crowley started actively seeking you out

The two of you ended up spending more time together then you ever did before his fall

And even though you were no longer allowed in Heaven because you sided with the angel and demon who fought for Earth, you had found your own little paradise here alongside Crowley and Aziraphale. 

[b-rainlet]

Here it comes, the post that about two people have been waiting for:

Watching tua I saw a lot of parallels between Vanya and Luther, so much that I decided to make a little post about it (based on my knowledge after watching the show one time)

So let's look at them, shall we?

One of the first things I noticed is their clothing.

I saw a lot of people joking on how Vanya dresses like a gay (which I def support) but looking closer to her clothes, you can see that she mostly wears stuff that’s ill-fitting on her, baggy jeans and too big shirts. Plus, compared to for example Allison or Klaus she wears muted colours, nothing flashy or memorable (the only thing that stuck in my head was the suit and even that was -at first - a normal suit, nothing extra-ordinary. Someone else may have worn a dress, or even some jewellery with the suit, little things that catch the eye).

I think we can all agree that she doesn’t wanna attract any attention, she tries her best to hide herself, be it by blending into her surroundings by avoiding too colourful clothing or by actively hiding her form under too big clothes.

Luther tries more or less the same, although you can argue about how succesfull that is.

Luther is even more obvious about hiding his body, never taking of his coat and even wearing gloves to conceal his hands. He can’t really wear anything that’s big on him because he already is incredibly big (and probably has clothing made extra for him, made to fit) but I bet if he had the chance, he’d also wear baggy things to hide himself.

At the same time, his stuff also isn’t all too flashy (and as far as I remember, he always wears the same stuff? He doesn’t seem to have a big wardrobe).

In both Vanya and Luther’s case, their clothing style stems from low self-esteem. And they both have low self-esteem because of their father.

So while Vanya probably had to live with very low self-esteem since she was a child, due to being reduced to being ‘ordinary’ - and that being treated like it’s a bad thing - and Luther’s problems with his body most likely only started when he was transformed, both of those incidents were engineered and executed by their father.

(But you could argue that Luther seemed to have a very tense relationship with food even before that, binge-eating or not eating at all and feeling guilty about eatogn too much, so maybe he had body issues way before his transformation. But I’m not sure whether the show really intends to explore that, so I stuck to post-monkey body Luther).

(Also also Luther canonically hates his body enough to self-harm (the scars on his chest) and in an interview it was stated that he thought about suicide because of it, both of which are things Vanya can probably relate to but aren’t addressed in the show, so I’m leaving them out on her part).

The only other person I could see having similar problems with his body is Five (Allison and Klaus both seem to be comfortable and Diego calls his body a temple, so it’s save to say they are content how they are body-wise). Ben is dead so I don’t know whether you can say he even has a body. But Five - although surely not happy that his time traveling plans didn’t turn out as planned - seems to be more annoyed at people treating him like a child and not at himself for looking like that (Also his hair is really fly, I keep getting jealous of it)

Speaking of low self-esteem, did you notice something?

Looking back on the show I realized something: Luther and Vanya are both alone.

If you think about it, there aren’t a lot of people outside of their family any of them interact with. But the others do have people they know and they are close to that aren’t family.

Diego has Eudora and even though they don’t have a relationship anymore, they continue to be close to each other and Diego obviously trusts her a whole lot.

Allison had Patrick and Claire. Those two aren’t as prominent as Patch but nevertheless Allison shows that she loves her daughter a lot and at one point in life, seemed to have loved Patrick enough to marry him and have a child with him (there’s also the fact that they seem to have divorced because of Allison using her powers on Claire and not because they had problems as a couple).

Klaus....is a bit trickier. He doesn’t have anyone in the present timeline he seems to be really close to whose not one of his siblings, but he does seem to know a lot of people. He seemed to have a good relationship with the people in rehab, the paramedics seem to either already know him or took a liking to him real fast (I usually don’t high five my paramedics) and he seems to interact with loads of people and he’s had at least one boyfriend in the past (the guy who’s good at cooking).

Then there’s also Dave, who Klaus seems to have loved deeply, actively trying to get sober to summon him. Interesting how every non-familial relationship is immediately romantic

Five and Ben are a bit out of the loop but since one of them died and the other was alone for several years, they are definitely special cases.

And even then, Five had Delores to project a personality onto and have a relationship with to mimick the human interactions he sure as hell craved and he also spent some time working for the commission and it seems like he was well-liked there for his effiency (and the Handler seems to have a weird, creepy crush on him).

And what about Luther and Vanya? Well, Luther never left home and never had any contact with anyone except his father, Pogo and Grace (and even then, Reginald seemed to spend as little time as possible with his kids when it wasn’t about training and he seemed to have stopped training Luther at that point, Pogo is somehow only ever present to be a dick under the guise of mystery and I don’t remember any flashback with him really genuinely interacting with the kids or Luther and Grace may have been a good mom but she doesn’t really count as a human, does she now?)

(And from what you can see, she also doesn’t seem to interact with the kids a lot once they’re adults and mostly sticks to making food for them. Also Diego is obv her fave askalja)

And well, after the mission gone wrong Luther is supposed to spend the rest of his life on the moon, so there’s not a lot of possibility for him to socialize.

Vanya on the other hand has the best chances of starting a new and normal life with loads of friends since she was never required to dedicate her life to the academy like the others had to.

But what do we see of her before Leonard comes into the picture?

She lives alone, no mention of prior partners, no friends, the people who work with her in the orchestra don’t even know her name.....

(Granted, she does have a relationship with someone outside of her family during the first season but I don’t actually count that as a genuine relationship since Leonard only uses her).

The others also have all those added relationships established from the beginning, while Vanya has no one in the beginning and Luther continues to be completely dependant on his family concerning human interaction.

Which brings me to my next point: They both don’t have a real relationship with their family

The one who seems to get along best with everyone is Klaus. He has a good relationship with Diego, they have a lot of scenes together, he and Allison seem to get along, being the only two who actually hug each other and of course him and Ben are really close due to circumstances.

Diego has - as already mentioned - Klaus and also he’s close to Grace (something the others aren’t, even though they all are obviously very fond of her).

But Luther and Vanya are both kind of on the sidelines.

Vanya because she always was and her father encouraged that by not letting her train with her siblings (which I still think is stupid because she could’ve learned combat?? Both Klaus and Allison don’t have powers that grant them a lot of fighting skills and they were still trained how to to take out enemies, so why not Vanya, honestly). He didn’t let her get a tattoo, didn’t let her be on family portraits, her room was moved from being closer to her siblings to being up in the attic as far as I know, basically she was taught she isn’t part of this family.

And that shows in how little she really interacts with her siblings and how in all of those interactions she gets put down, mostly by Diego.

Then there’s Luther, who was part of the academy, who was granted all the things that Vanya couldn’t do and still he doesn’t have a better relationship with his family.

He was obviously closer to his father than his siblings and there’s a wedge between them based on the way his father favoured him over the others (good example is his relationship with Diego).

I personally also think that taking on the role of leader made him distance himself more from the others? Like, you obviously have a different relationship with your co-workers than your boss and I could see the others being cautious around him because what if he snitches on them? Also they obviously didn’t share his views on how good their Dad is and that obviously further divided them, although all of that is more of a hc since we don’t get a lot of general Luther flashbacks about him as a kid.

Notice how in all those scenarios Vanya is the one who deliberately chooses to push herself further away from everyone else whereas Luther doesn’t seem to have a choice about it. Even with their family, Luther doesn’t seem to get out of his role as the leader and genuinely tries to be there for his family even though it only makes matters worse whereas Vanya chooses to write her book (something that really breaks her relationship with Diego) even though she must’ve known about the consequences.

You can argue that Five and Vanya seems to have had a good relationship as kids but looking at the show Five really seems to not ‘belong’ anywhere, spending some time with Vanya, then Klaus, then Allison and Diego, then Luther and then he’s on his own again for some time....

He’s a bit like that one kid in school that doesn’t have a fixed freindgroup and just changes every other week, which makes sense considering that he spent a lot of time apart from his family (even longer than they spent without him) and he’s changed a lot due to that and probably needs to properly reconnect with the others first.

But who did I forget? Oh yeah, Allison.

See, I didn’t mention because Allison she’s another factor where Luther and Vanya parallel each other.

Allison is the only Hargreeves who seems to try and reach out for the two of them on several occasions.

We already see that both their relationships with Diego are tense but we also see that they both seem to click best with Allison.

Allison tries her best to include Vanya in the family again, telling her she belongs there and trying to be supportive when Vanya tells her she met someone (and later on going on a whole detective tangent because Leonard seems shady, that’s peak older sibling).

With Luther, there’s the romance subplot of course but even without that, Allison tries to comfort him about his body and the fact that everything he did was for naught (something none of the others by the way do when the chandelier drops on him. They all see his body, but only Allison tries to talk to him about it as far as I remember. Diego makes fun of it).

Seriously, Allison tries very hard to reach out to those two especially.

(And in the end, both of them end up pushing her out. Vanya by lashing out and hurting her and Luther by not listening to her repeatedly and locking up Vanya).

Both of them are also the most emotionally vulnerable.

Vanya is manipulated by Leonard easily because she desperate for love and approval, even though Leonard screamed ‘shady guy’ from a mile away, let’s be real.

And Luther was blinded so badly by his Dad’s teaching that even when he nearly died, he didn’t leave him and even when his father was dead, he kept acting exactly how Reginald would’ve wanted him to.

All the others don’t seem as perceptive, with Allison seeing through Leonard’s bullshit right away and Diego clearly stating what a monster their Father actually was (and even though all of them are affected by their childhood trauma, they all seem to realize that there was something traumatic happening at all, Luther never really got that far only after he found the unopened sample he had sent his Dad).

So basically, Luther’s and Vanya’s arcs have a lot of similarities that are probably 100% deliberate and they seem to go through a lot of the same stuff even though their original placement within the story (Number One versus Number Seven) seems to frame them as opposites.

And they are opposites, just thinking about how exactly they were isolated from their family shows that. But at the same time even though both their stories are happening on opposite sides, they always end up paralleling each other.

I like to say ‘Two sides of the same coin’

This is basically a long rambly post of me saying that I really think those two could help each other a lot and have an arc about growing closer together, especially considering something  @deweysdenouement has said:

Luther’s whole arc goes from believing your Father was just and always made the right decisions and being convinced that your life had a very specific purpose to learning that everything you thought was basically a lie and that you just wasted your time doing something completely useless because your Father couldn’t stand the sight of you (also your Father was abusive and what you suffered through was, in fact, abuse, and not justified in any way).

And Vanya goes from I am only ordinary and I will never be special in any way and therefore everyone is right to just brush over me and my feelings to I actually am the most powerful out of all of my siblings and I have a right to speak my mind.

(Basically from One to Zero and from Zero to One in one Season).

[spaceskam]

was it worth the fight? (2/2)

Summary: a talk with maria. (this could probably be read without the first part but just in case not: part 1)

ao3

“I had a date with Micahel last night.”

Alex decided not to beat around the bush or even acknowledge Maria’s reaction.  He was here for closure and that’s what he was going to get.  He’d tossed and turned the entire night, planning a way through this. He and Michael had worked through a ton of shit.  He refused to let this be the end.  He fully intended to call after he left his brunch with Maria and ask for a movie night.  This was step one.

“Why are you telling me this?” Maria asked cautiously.  She didn’t sound angry or annoyed or jealous, she sounded confused and scared to make a mistake.  Alex understood that more than anyone knew.

“Because,” he sighed, his eyes searching for the waitress.  Suddenly that mimosa she’d offered sounded much better than the water he’d ordered.  “We kissed.”

Maria still looked confused, “Okay, I’m happy for y‒”

“All I could see was you kissing him, touching him, having sex with him, and I had to ask him to leave,” Alex admitted.  Realization settled on her face in an instant and she leaned closer.

“Alex, I swear, I haven’t seen him in weeks, much less, well, any of that.  I promise,” Maria gushed, sincerity coming off her in droves.  Alex held up his hand, waving away her apologies.  

“No, I know.  I just… I need closure, I think,” Alex said, “I need to know why you did it.”

Alex had ideas on the answer she’d give.  It had kept him awake the night he’d found out.  It rudely brought him back to when he was 15 and first came out to his friends.  Liz had immediately gotten excited that he could join in on the boy talk.  Rosa had rolled her eyes and said she knew, that her gaydar was never wrong and it wasn’t about to start with him.  Maria didn’t have much of a reaction other than ‘thank you for trusting me with that’ and you can tell me anything’.  She had kept that sentiment for so long.  

Maria was the first one he’d gone to when he had a crush on Riley Summers, a bulky football player who always told the other guys to leave him alone and required his help to pass science.  Maria had gone on a date with him prior, though, which had quickly ended Alex’s desire to talk about him.  He still stared, but that was it.

Part of him knew that the reason he kept Michael a secret was because he was scared for someone to crush his crush.  Michael was sweet and boyishly handsome and even back then would look at him like he was the only one in the world.  He wanted to live in that bubble where that was the case.  When they finally kissed, he thought that was it.  He’d never have to worry about needing to back off because his friends had dibs.  Alex had won the world’s most convenient prize: a boy who liked boys.  It doubled as the best prize when you factored in the part where he liked Alex.

Obviously, a few years passed and he learned sexuality was a bit more fluid, Michael’s included.  But, still, he never thought he’d be in this position.  Every time he was able to come home, he’d see Michael and every single time he’d look at him like he was the whole world.  Eleven years and it still gave him butterflies.  Only those butterflies were being unceremoniously by the jealousy monster and Alex wanted him slain.

Michael was his.  His brain just needed to catch up.

“I-I don’t have a good answer for why, Alex.  I just didn’t know what I was putting myself between,” Maria explained, smiling as the waitress put a glass of water on the table for her.  Alex asked for that mimosa.

“Maybe not the details, but you knew there was still something between us,” Alex pointed out.  She shook her head.

“Barely!  I knew you had a thing in the past and I knew you were feeling hopeful but he kept telling me it was over,” she tried.  Alex took a deep breath as he discounted her words.  They didn’t mean anything.  They were her trying to excuse herself.  She wasn’t deliberately sounding like an ass.

“Maria, he’d just watched his mother die, found out his brother-in-law was a bad sci-fi villain, and dealt with his actual brother dying.  Not to mention the mental torment that came with his hand being healed on the outside.  You shouldn’t have taken his word.” He knew he sounded demeaning.  He forgot to apologize.

“It’s not like he told me all of that when he came to me, Alex,” Maria sighed, her head falling in her palm.

“But you had to have seen that something was off.”

“He’s not exactly the poster child for happiness, I didn’t think it was anything worse than usual.”

Alex’s leg bounced beneath the table, suddenly deciding that Michael needed some extra loving and caring tonight.  Maria had never been cold, but, God, she was coming off that way.  He couldn’t imagine seeing Michael in a state and just accepting it.  Even when he was pushing him away, he still was haunted by his broken face.  Michael had walls, but at the end of the day, his heart was proudly worn on his sleeve.  The idea of kissing him and starting a relationship with him while he was vulnerable made him queasy.  That wasn’t like Maria.

“I just‒ “

“Why are you acting like this is all my fault?” she asked.  Which was valid.

“It’s not, I’m sorry.  I’ve just already heard his side of things.  I’ve heard a little of yours, I just…” Alex pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to think of the least offensive way to continue the conversation.

“Here’s that mimosa.  Can I get you guys anything to eat?” He’d never been so thankful to be interrupted.

“I don’t really want anything, do you?” Alex asked.  Maria just shook her head, still staring pointedly at him.  God, why did a fucking boy have to come between them?  If only it was a less important boy.  “We’re good, thanks.”

They were left in an awkward silence that lasted too long for a friendship that was over two decades old.  Fuck, why were they in this mess?

“I just wanna know why you didn’t come to me first,” Alex added softly after downing half of the drink he’d just been given.

Maria avoided eye contact as she said, “I wanted to, I just wanted to make sure he was worth it.  It just happened too fast.  He came to me and I decided he was worth it right then.” Alex shut his eyes, desperately trying to block out that fucking pity party of a night.

“But you still never came to me.  In fact, you avoided me.  I had to find out by seeing you two making out against his truck a week later. You chose some crush over our friendship which is so fucked,” Alex pointed out.  Maria folded her lips into her mouth, guilt skewing her features.  Alex chugged the rest of the mimosa and flagged the waitress for another.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.  I made a mistake. He was the first decent guy to look my way in forever, so I went for it.  I was hoping he could love me, or that I could love him.  But, even if he could, it couldn’t hold a candle to what you two have.  I’m not a threat, Alex,” she said.  He licked his lips as he absorbed her words.  He couldn’t blame her for feeling positive at the prospect of a relationship with him.  He knew first hand how addicted Michael Guerin could be.  He was hot and charming when he was drunk off his ass, but a sober Michael?  That was more intoxicating than anything he’d ever had.

“I get it.  He’s easy to love.”

“It’s not even just that.  You were gone for almost ten years, Alex.  So was Liz.  I lost my three best friends in the same summer and I never really made anymore.  He was the closest thing I had.  He was there for me, he was a shoulder to cry on.  Even when he’s being a dick, he’s nicer than half the people in this town.  And he started to clean up his act last year, stopped fighting and started being there for me even more and I… I guess it’s my fault that I didn’t notice how him being better magically correlated with when you came home.”

Alex wasn’t entirely sure what closure was supposed to feel like, but he assumed it felt similar to hearing Maria say that.  That made sense.  That he hadn’t considered.  It didn’t really make him feel better, but he was finally hearing something that made the pieces fit together. They were still in the wrong, but Micahel had a way of making him forget they spent so much time apart.  He hadn’t even considered that he spent that time with Maria.  

Finally, an explanation rather than an excuse.

“Thank you,” Alex said, letting out a slow breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding as he reached for the new drink he’d been brought.  He still had shit to think through, but at least he got it.  “I understand.  He cleverly left out the decade of Michael and Maria time.”

Maria rolled her eyes, but she smiled.  As angry as Alex had been, he still wanted her to be okay and happy.  It’d been a while since she smiled.

“Please, please, please don’t let me be the reason you don’t work out.  I mean, I’m still working on moving past him, trying to find someone new, but I’m not that much of a bitch.  You guys are good for each other.  You give him a reason to keep getting better and he makes you so happy.  You deserve that happiness, Alex, you’ve gone too long without,” she promised.  For the first time in a while, she sounded like his best friend again.

“You do too, Maria,” he said.  He meant it.

Eventually, the conversation became lighter and they both actually got food.  It hadn’t occurred to him that he hadn’t eaten since the night before with Michael.  Spending time with Maria, though, was refreshing in a way he hadn’t expected.  He missed having friends that weren’t wrapped up in bullshit.  Well, Maria was wrapped up in bullshit, but not in alien bullshit or giant government conspiracy bullshit. In fact, it was the most normal bullshit he had going on and for that, he was almost thankful.

By the time he got home, Alex was feeling a whole lot better about things.  He and Maria had talked about the whole Michael situation before, but nothing helped it make sense in his head like this time.  All the puzzle pieces were in place and now all he had to do was accept it before he could put it away and not think about it anymore.  There were no missing pieces to stress over.  He felt a little lighter and a little more ready to try kissing his almost-maybe-boyfriend again.

“Hey,” Alex said, smiling effortlessly as he heard Michael’s heavy breathing on the other side of the phone, “You okay over there?”

“Uh, yeah, Liz’s fuckin’ car broke down a few blocks away from Sanders’.  Just got done pushing it,” Michael said.  Alex could picture him all sweaty with his chest rising and falling wildly.  Yeah, definitely want to try again.

“Why didn’t you just move it with your mind?”

“Uh-huh because that wouldn’t be suspicious at all, would it?” Michael teased.  Maybe Alex was a little tipsy.  There was no other excuse as to why Michael’s heavy breathing had his mind wandering.

“Mmm, you got a point.  Come over tonight?” Alex asked, making a mental note to try to take a nap beforehand so he could sober up.  He wasn’t about to rub it in Michael’s face that he could drink.

“Oh yeah?  You already found a way to fix the problem?” Michael said, a hopeful lilt in his tone that had Alex grinning like an idiot at the ceiling.  Happy Michael was the best Michael.

“I talked to Maria today.  She cleared some stuff up in my head.  I don’t know if it’s all better yet, but… I wanna try if you want to,” Alex told him honestly.  He left what exactly that entailed up in the air.  He’d be happy with a night full of kissing, but a night of more didn’t sound bad.  Sounded fucking fantastic, actually.  It’d been so long since he slept with anyone.  Embarrassingly, the last person he’d slept with happened to be Michael himself.  God, that was forever ago.

“Uh, yeah, baby, of course, I do.  What time?”

“Just whenever you’re done with work.”

“I’ll be there.”

This had to work.

[girlinthepictureframe]

The Briefest Kiss Part 7A

2016

Miles sat on a bench outside some fancy restaurant with a tongue-twisting french name that Alex had picked for the occasion. It was his birthday. They were in the last stages of preparing for their Shadow Puppets tour and every day was filled with rehearsals, interviews, photo shoots or some other thing that stretched both his and Alex's nerves to the snapping point.

He was deeply appreciative of Alex's effort to make this night memorable. His friend had a heart of gold and if ever there was the occasion for an effort, one could always count on Alex to step up and make it. But, even though Miles would never admit it to Alex, he would have preferred to spend the evening at home, on the couch, with Alex. Relaxing. It was a strange wish for him. Usually, it was him who loved large gatherings and parties of all kinds. Tonight, though, he would have liked a respite.

Taking another long pull from his cigarette, Miles gazed upwards and swallowed a yawn.

“Exhausted, huh?”

A smile appeared on his face. “That obvious?” He met Alex's eyes. “I love the party. Thank you so much, babe. A wonderful gift.”

“Gift? This party isn't your gift, my friend. Just a little demonstration of my appreciation of you.” Alex sat down next to him and rested his forehead against Miles' temple.“I haven't been very easy to be around, lately. I know I can be a nuisance before tour. And,” he admitted cheekily, “I'll be even worse on tour. So better think of his night as my attempt to preemptively make up for a lot of shit that I'll do or say down the road.”

Miles chuckled as he wrapped an arm around Alex's shoulders. Having him this close was dangerous. It made him long for him in a way he knew was entirely inappropriate. They were friends. He ought to remember that. He ought to ignore the warmth that Alex spread in him. He ought to fight the urge to always touch him. But it was getting harder and harder with each day. If only Alex would object to any of it! The fact that he didn't made Miles feel that much worse. His friend trusted him completely, sought him out for comfort, and here he was, shamelessly using that trust, that literal physical connection, to satisfy his festering curiosity and his unsavory needs. “Don't worry. You have nothing to apologize for,” he said, stricken by his own guilt.

Miles felt the heat from the point where Alex's head touched; he felt it slowly sprawling through his body. It was almost overwhelming. So far into the night, long past the point of being sober, his better judgment was step by step shutting down operations and all that remained was his own free will. And boy, that free will had a wild mind of his own. Miles squeezed his eyes shut, fighting for control. Maybe a change of topic would help? “If this isn't my gift, then what is it? Is it the gift basket with the purple loofah I saw in the backroom?” It was a hard task to not whisper. They were so close. It was so very tempting to hush the words into Alex's ear, maybe brush his lips against his skin. Just a little taste. Just for a half a second.

No, shouted the little bit of self-control he had left in him. Get a grip, man!

“Would you like a loofah?” Alex laughed softly. A torturous act. His small puffs of air felt like canon fire against his fast-crumbling walls of defense. “It's your birthday,” whispered his friend, making the walls tumble faster, “I'll get you anything you want.”

Oh God. A shiver went down Miles' spine.

Alex leaned back just the tiniest bit. “Are you cold? Shall we go inside?”

The loss of contact made Miles regain the smallest fraction of control. “No. Not yet. I like the quiet night.”

Alex sat back, shrugged out of his blazer and placed it over Miles' back. “I wouldn't want you to catch a cold on your birthday. What kind of friend would that make me, huh?” A chuckle slipped past his lips. His forehead returned to its spot against Miles' temple.

There was still that obstinate bit of lust that seemed to materialize every time Alex stepped into the scenes of Miles' life, but Alex's kind gesture completely distracted him from noticing. Instead, all his focus lay on his friend's arms, on his goosebumps, his tiny little hairs as they stood upwards. Alex was freezing, deliberately. Miles quickly took the jacket from his back, wrapped an arm around Alex to pull him closer, then placed the jacket around both their shoulders. “This is bloody ridiculous!” His arm remained around the back, his hand rubbing up and down to spread warmth. “Don't do that, Al! Don't put my needs above yours. You're shivering now!”

“Trust me, I'm not freezing,” reassured Alex.

But Miles wasn't convinced. Not when he saw evidence to the contrary. “I can see that you are. And why are you wearing a short sleeved shirt tonight? It's too bloody cold for that!”

Alex laughed. “Are you seriously telling me to dress according to the weather? Let's recall last year's summer party at Matt's! It was scorching hot outside and who showed up wearing a black leather jacket?” He gave him a pointed look.

Miles grinned. “It was a new jacket. I didn't have the patience to wait for fall to come around.” His eyes still lingered on Alex's arms when he spotted the tattoo. It didn't look new. But, then again, it had been a while since he'd seen his friend in short sleeves. “Oh Alexander, what have you done?”

“Alexander?” Alex blinked confused. “Have you ever called me that? And what are you talking about, Mister Miles Peter Kane?”

Miles motioned towards the tattoo. “She put her trademark on you?”

Alex looked down at his arm. He rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Happened a while ago.” Then he placed his hand on top of it, self-consciously. “Told you, it can always be removed later. For now it'll make her happy.”

“What about what makes you happy,” wondered Miles, worried about his friend. He was in the habit of trying to make those around him happy, but he often forgot about himself. “Are you happy with her?”

“As happy as I can be,” said Alex.


It wasn't the answer he had hoped for. He heard the self-loathing that his friend was prone to at times, heard the doubt and the way he was settling instead of aiming for more. “I hope one day you'll find somebody who completely, utterly knocks your socks off. I'd like to see you smile at some woman the way you smile at me sometimes.”

“What do you mean?” Asked Alex, a bit of confusion in his voice.

Miles pecked his friend's forehead, then got up and held out his hand for him. Alex took it. “Wholly. When you smile at me, you don't hide yourself. I can see right into your soul. When you smile at them, you always have your guard up. Even now, even with Taylor.”

“That's because I trust you. You won't ever hurt me. I don't need to be guarded around you. Besides, do you let Hannah see the full you?”

Miles hesitated, then shook his head. They were still holding hands, fingers entwined. “Maybe I should follow my own advice,” he said, half-joking. His gaze landed on their hands. He didn't let go, just squeezed a bit tighter. “Come on, I'm ready for my cake now!”

He turned around, pulled Alex with him and delighted when he felt his friend wrap his arms around him from behind. Tonight was his birthday. Tonight, he decided, he wouldn't care for the appropriate amount of proximity or personal space or anything that could put a damper on his mood. Tonight, he'd party. As they made their way back towards the large table, he saw that people had gathered around it and were awaiting him.

Alex let go of him, took a seat on Miles' chair and patted his lap, flashing a giant smile. “Sit here! You're gonna love this cake. I ordered it myself and told them how to decorate it!”

Miles grinned at Alex, who sounded so proud of himself for having managed that. As he sat down on Alex's lap, Miles relaxed and got comfortable. For tonight, he wouldn't worry about blurry lines and or the risks of letting go. It was his party and he'd enjoy every last moment of it.

Present Day

“What do you mean, you shaved his hair off? I haven't seen him all day. I think he's avoiding me or something.” Miles took a sip from his water bottle. He'd just finished his sound-check for the night and sat on the edge of the stage, next to Matt. “All of it? Is he bald now?”

Matt shook his head. “A bit of it is left. He didn't go full Britney. I'm worried about him, Miles. For you and me a shave is just a haircut. But you know him. Stuff always means something with him. Especially now, with her around.”


“Who?” asked Miles, trying to catch up with everything Matt was telling him. Then his words sank in. A queasy feeling overcame him. Her. “What her?”

“Man, don't you guys talk anymore? Her? The one who won't leave his side? Louise?” Matt shook his head. “Weird one, that. I can't warm up to her. She's all artsy and French.”

Miles couldn't believe it. “He's got a new one already?” Suddenly he felt awful. He'd spent so much time being busy with his own life that, lately, he'd neglected to look out for Alex. It wasn't that he didn't want to look out for him. But he felt responsible for his break-up. The long-lingering aftershocks of their fateful kiss had yet to die down, apparently. If he hadn't kissed Alex, his friend would still be with Taylor. And while, initially, he'd been wary of her, she had been a good and steadying influence on his best friend. She'd anchored him. She'd allowed him room to breathe while offering a place to return to. “Doesn't she know he just split up with someone?”

“She knows. She's a groupie. She knows a lot about him. About all of us. Like I said, weird one.” Matt nudge Miles' shoulder. “There she is,” he said, motioning for the slim woman entering the side of the stage. Trailing not far behind was Alex.

The sight almost broke Miles' heart. Alex looked miserable. And Miles blamed most of that on that ridiculous haircut! Jumping up and hurrying over, he wrapped his friend up in a tight hug and squeezed him until he felt Alex pushing back. “How are you, babe?” Letting go just enough to be able to closely inspect him, Miles brushed a hand along the side of his head tenderly.

Alex flinched.

And now Miles' heart broke for real. He stared at Alex in shock. A decade of friendship, fights, tears, sorrow, joy, happiness, excitement, even a few wayward moments of unwelcome arousal, but never once had Alex flinched at Miles' touch. Words deserted him. And he saw in Alex's eyes that his friend understood precisely what was going on.

“Louise,” said Louise, introducing herself. She stepped between Miles and Alex, forcing them further apart. “So nice to finally meet you. Alexander has told me so much about you,” she let him know, holding out her hand for him to shake. “You mean a lot to him, obviously.”

He was too perplexed by Alex's behavior to properly acknowledge her. He barely managed to shake her hand. “Miles,” said Miles. “Well, Alex hasn't mentioned you once, so...”

“Miles,” admonished Alex and Miles realized it was the first word he'd spoken to him.

His confused state, his wounded heart and Alex's offsetting behavior put Miles in a sour mood. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to grab Alex, push him into an empty room and demand some bloody answers. But he couldn't do it. He was pressed for time, they were surrounded by people who were all paying rapt attention to their tense stand-off and, worst of it all, he could tell from the look in Alex's eyes that his friend wanted to be anywhere but in an empty room with him.

So he settled for a deep, loud sigh, hoping the sound would express all of his emotions at once and with more effect than any words could. Then he turned around, grabbed his water bottle and hopped off the stage. “Find me when you're ready.” He didn't bother addressing Alex. It was clear for whom that message was intended. Then he headed for the exit.

“Fucking shit, Miles,” Alex shot as he stormed into Miles' dressing room after the gig. The Monkeys had finished half an hour ago, the rest of Miles' band had long left the building and, thank God, thought Miles, as he watched his friend slam the door shut, Louise was not with him!

That was the good news. The bad news was that his mood had yet to rise to calmer levels. If anything, the fact that Alex appeared to be mad at him, made it sink even lower. “Fucking what, Al?” He didn't get up from the couch, just leaned back, surly, daring him to take offense.

Alex took a few steadying breaths, stayed silent, and leaned back against the door.

Miles eyed him expectingly. “Well? Would you like to explain any of it?”

“Explain what?”

“Your fucking haircut, for a start! Or the fact that you have a groupie as a girlfriend! And when you're done with that and have warmed up, let's get to the good stuff 'cause I'd really fucking like to know why you flinched when I touched you! That one hurt, Alex.”

Alex closed his eyes, letting his head roll back. “You know, there are times when I really don't like the way my name sounds when you say it.” He opened his eyes again, met Miles'. “Two people in the world can ruin my day just by saying my name a certain way. My mum, obviously. And you. When I hear you say it like that, that's when I know I screwed up real good and a simple apology won't fix it.” He walked over to the couch and sat down. Not next to Miles. On the far end of it.

It was another dagger through Miles' heart. “I would settle for an explanation.”

“My hair,” began Alex, playing around with some spare guitar strings on the coffee table in front of him, “it annoyed me. So I got rid of it. It'll grow back.” A pause. “I won't discuss Louise with you. We never judged each other for our girlfriends. Let's not start now. Accept her or not, I don't care. But she'll be around for a while.”

“You flinched, Alex!” Really, it was the only thing he really wanted an explanation for. He didn't give a fig about the hair, and even less about the girl.

And it was the one thing Alex didn't explain. “I didn't mean to. And that's the truth, if ever there was one.”

For a while they sat in silence. “Last time we spoke, we spoke for none more than five minutes,” pointed Miles out. His words were interlaced with equal parts bewilderment and sadness. “Before that, we spoke not much longer. When we meet, there are always people around us. We don't hang out alone anymore.” His eyes searched Alex's. He waited for his friend to meet his gaze. He didn't blame Alex for any of it. It was just as much his own fault. After the kiss they had allowed things to get awkward. But in retrospect, there were moments long before their lips met, when he should have stopped and paid more attention. “Is this what the end of a relationship feels like? Have I steered us on this course? Or were we headed here long before Paris?”

Alex spoke in a quiet, solemn manner. “You mean, are all relationships destined for an ending?”

“Think about it, Al. Did we really believe we were bulletproof?”

“Are you genuinely asking for my opinion, or are you breaking up with me? It seems to me you've made up your mind already and consider us no longer redeemable,” he said accusingly. “Why now?”

“Because you fucking flinched!” Bursted Miles.

“I cannot explain it to you, Miles! Why are you bloody stuck on that part? So we've reached a rough spot in our friendship. Don't all friendships experience that at some point?”

“A rough spot in our friendship was you accusing me of having feelings for Alexa! This isn't a rough spot, Alex! I'm stuck on the flinching because the look in your eyes told me my touch disgusted you and you won't tell me why. I don't think I'll ever forget that expression.” The lack of empathy or regret on Alex's face made it unbearable for Miles to look at him any longer. “I don't know how to be your friend at the moment,” he admitted, deeply troubled, “because I'm not sure you want me to be your friend at the moment.”

Alex stood up abruptly, turned away from Miles. “One minute of interaction today and that's enough for you to make that kind of statement? You're a bloody coward for saying that!” He stormed out of the room the same way he'd stormed into it – by slamming the door shut.

Miles got up, walked over to the minibar in the room and grabbed a few small bottles of Vodka. One he drowned in one gulp. The next one he looked at, in a mixture of vile disgust and fierce anger – pretty much how he felt about himself at the moment – and he threw the bottle against the wall in a moment of furious ire, watching as the broken glass and the liquor met in a mess on the floor. The remaining bottles he took with him to the couch. “Fucked up ending for a fucked up day,” he said into the empty space.

[ashwayssunny]

Macdennis playing 7 minutes in heaven 👀

hi anon! thank you for a requesting a prompt!! here you go, i hope you like it!! :)

-

Tim Murphy had explained the rules of the game as eloquently as he could, but no one yet had moved to make a first selection. Dennis estimated there were fifteen to twenty of them huddled around a hat which held each of their names  on a slip of paper. Tim Murphy hadn’t even technically invited them to this party, but an entire swath of classmates with whom he had no real relationship had descended upon the get-together like a school of fish, having heard about it in a hundred different games of telephone, finding safety in the anonymity of each other. Tim was too plastered by the time they all arrived to care that the party was far over capacity. 

Dennis had planned on going anyway, of course, but the cover of others made it much easier for him to sneak in Dee, Ronnie the Rat, and Dirtgrub, and he was pleased that neither of them had caused too much of a fuss thus far. Charlie hadn’t thrown his name in the ring, but Dennis watched as Ronnie snuck a piece of paper from the pile, scribbled his new nickname ‘Mac’ as quickly as he could, and tossed it in with such stealth it actually impressed him. 

The object of the game, Tim had explained, was to spend seven minutes alone in a closet with the person whose name was chosen alongside your own. There were few ground rules, except that the lights must be out, the door must be locked, and every non-chosen ear must be pressed against the door, listening. Dennis hoped to score with Nikki Potnick; out of the girls who’d submitted their names, she was by far the best looking, and Dennis hadn’t been involved with the incident which had led to the destruction of her car; in fact, he’d taken extra precautions to make sure Nikki never saw him with Ronnie – sorry, Mac – or Charlie the whole night. Now was his time. 

He wondered arbitrarily if Mac was after the same thing, wanting both to revel in the genius of Dennis’s plan while also preparing to steal his thunder. Dennis wouldn’t let that happen tonight. He’d make sure of it.

“Somebody’s gotta go first,” Tim slurred. “How ‘bout I just pick?”

Noises of agreement came from the group. Dennis made no reaction, betrayed no emotion. He caught Dee’s gaze as she sat across from him in the circle, and he wondered if the universe could possibly be cruel enough to pair them together. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if his sister was paired with someone else either, but to lose his chance with Nikki to such a disappointing partner… he scowled at the idea. 

Tim hiccuped, the beer in his palm sloshing in the bottle as he reached out and retrieved two strips of paper from the hat. The group collectively held back breath as he read the name on the slip once, twice, a third time before smirking a bit. “Dennis,” he blurted, and all eyes turned to him. 

The look of determination on Dennis’s face was set in stone. Some of the girls around the circle looked intrigued, some seemed a little more uneasy, but everyone was surely interested. Tim flipped the first paper behind the second, and at the sight of the second name, his face traveled through several different unidentifiable emotions before landing on a positively mischievous grin. 

“Damnnnnnn,” he said, elongating the word, “it’s Ronnie the Rat!”

Several members of the group burst into full-on laughter, but everyone snickered. “Wow, dream come true for you guys, huh?” Tim mocked. 

Dennis’s blood ran cold. He was sure the color had drained completely from his place, but he fought against every instinct in his body and kept his expression entirely neutral. “Pick someone else,” he said evenly. “Two dudes can’t do it.” 

“Yeah, you can’t do seven minutes in heaven with your bro!” Mac exclaimed from across the circle. He and Dennis avoided eye contact like it would kill them. It only elicited a fresh wave of laughter from the group, and Dennis felt his ears growing hot. 

“I don’t know, I mean…” Tim Murphy trailed off, taking a long swig of his beer and burping without losing an ounce of smugness from his face. Dennis wanted to bash his teeth in. “The rules say you can’t change the names that you pick, so…”

“You never said that in the rules!” Dennis’s voice hitched on the final syllable, but he fought desperately to keep calm, digging his nails into his pant leg. 

“I also didn’t invite you to my party.”

Another round of laughter. Dennis’s fists clenched so tightly he feared he would break his own fingers. 

“We should’ve made, like, a thing for dudes and a thing for chicks,” Mac pointed out, cognizant of how white Dennis’s knuckles had gone. “You know, so we could pick separately. Or do you just really wanna think about two dudes kissing?”

A few people chuckled, and for a moment, Dennis felt proud. It was short-lived, however, when Tim replied almost immediately, “Uhh, nobody said you had to kiss, bro. But it’s good to know that’s exactly what you were thinking about.”

Mac’s cheeks flushed, and he recoiled. Dennis heaved a great sigh, shifting the tension from his shaking fists to the space in his back between his shoulders. He replaced his grimace with an easy smile. “Fine, it’s whatever,” he said casually. “It’s totally a waste of a turn, though.” 

“We’ll see,” Tim responded, and Dennis nearly hurled his beanbag chair across the room.

Then they were being herded by the crowd like sheep to the bathroom they’d prepared for the occasion, complete with romantic fragrance and minimal lighting provided only by a lavender-scented candle belonging to Tim’s mom. People continued to snicker, and Mac and Dennis continued to refuse eye contact, until it was just the two of them side-by-side in the darkness, watching as Tim closed the door and snickered, “Have fun!” From the other side, they could hear the click of the alarm clock Tim set for exactly seven minutes begin. 

With the door shut, the candlelight reflected off both their faces as they slowly turned to each other and adopted positions at opposite ends of the room. Dennis’s stomach churned. 

“This is weird, bro,” Mac said, painfully honest when Dennis did not require his honesty; he forced himself to bite back a nasty retort. 

“Don’t fucking make it weird, then,” he snarled, “you’re the only one making it weird.”

“No, I’m pretty sure everyone is making it weird.” 

“Well, don’t encourage them!” he snapped, his voice rising above the whisper he’d been trying to use to keep the conversation only between them. Mac spoke normally, of course, and it only further irritated Dennis. 

Mac’s big dark eyes followed him, and Dennis could feel the intensity of his gaze even in the darkness. He slid down the length of the wall into a sitting position and stretched his fingers, forcing a deep breath down into his lungs. Mac followed suit. “Oh!” Mac suddenly exclaimed, reaching into his pocket and digging around while Dennis tried not to scream. “Hang on, I think I have something that’ll make this, like, ten times more better.”

The ticking noise began to grate on Dennis’s ears, and he balled his hands into fists yet again. Mac was grinning at him now, and the rush of blood through Dennis’s head forced him to look at the object his counterpart now held between them – a joint, thick, sleek, and nicely rolled the way Mac knew Dennis liked them to be. “Ehhh?” Mac smirked, wagging the joint between them. 

“Oh, fuck, give me that,” Dennis nearly growled, reaching for it ferally, as if he needed it like the cure for a venomous snake bite. Mac relinquished his grasp on it, and Dennis brought the butt to his lips in one swift movement. 

“Light?” he asked impatiently, and Mac returned to digging in his pockets until he produced a purple BIC lighter that had definitely seen better days. He leaned close to Dennis, flicking at the lighter until the flame ignited and cast a soft orange light across both of their faces. Mac cupped the flame with his palm, letting Dennis take a long, intimate drag while they stood practically nose to nose. Mac tried not to stare at the way Dennis’s lips curved around the end of the joint, elected instead to drink in the soft fluttering of his lashes against his bony cheeks. Abruptly, Dennis’s eyes snapped up as Mac leaned closer, and the shock of electricity that came with their eye contact caused Mac’s mouth to run dry. Dennis took the joint from his lips, erupting into a hearty coughing fit that stymied the previous moment of tension. “Fuck,” he choked out, “shit, dude, that was a big hit.” 

“Sorry,” Mac said half-heartedly, his eyes resting still on the redness of Dennis’s cheeks. “I mean, it wouldn’t be if you weren’t such a pussy…”

“Shut up!” Dennis passed the joint to Mac with ire in his voice, and Mac managed to take several drags in quick enough succession to elicit his own miniature coughing fit. Dennis smirked at him, and Mac’s face broke so easily into a compatible grin that he did it without even meaning to. 

“How many minutes do you think are left?” Mac asked.

Dennis grimaced as if, for a moment, he’d forgotten they weren’t alone. “Too many,” he sneered. “Give that back.”

They passed it back and forth in silence for what seemed like years. Dennis tried to ignore the fact that they were, despite their best protestations, sharing saliva. Mac looked to be deliberating something in his mind, and Dennis shuddered to think what it could be. After a moment lasting ten thousand years, Mac opened his mouth to speak. “Hey, Den, I wanted to talk to you about something –”

All at once, the alarm clock began to blare from outside, and Dennis’s hands jumped so violently from the noise that he lost his grip on the joint, letting it tumble down the front of his body until the lit end landed on the front of his pants, burning through the denim and causing Dennis to cry out.

“Oh, shit, dude –”

“Fuck!” Dennis shouted, jumping to his feet. “Oh my God, dude, I burned my dick –”

“You totally burned your dick,” Mac observed, dropping to his knees to root around on the ground for the missing joint. 

“Shit, fuck, goddamnit, get it off –” 

“Hang on, there’s burning ash still there, let me get it –”

Mac began frantically to brush the smoldering ash from Dennis’s crotch, but as his hands gripped the waistband of Dennis’s jeans to find footing in the dark, the bathroom door swung open and treated Tim Murphy and a gaggle of their other classmates to the sight of Mac knelt in front of Dennis, face inches from his crotch, with Mac latched onto his belt loops and brushing the front of his jeans in a decidedly unscrupulous way. Dennis and Mac froze in their respective positions, and Tim’s eyes grew wide as the moon.

“Oh my God, I fucking knew it!” came a voice, and Dennis’s eyes scanned the crowd immediately so he could put a face with the voice of the person he decided he was going to kill. The shrill voice was all too familiar as he connected the source of it to none other than Sweet Dee. “They’re gay, they’re totally gay!” She cackled, loud and obnoxious, as others joined. 

“NO!” Dennis cried. “No, no, no, this isn’t what it looks like –”

“Yeah, sure, Dennis!” Dee screeched back, as the cacophony of laughter and whispering grew behind her. “See, Tim, I totally told you they’d do some gay shit if you put them alone together –”

“I’m gonna kill you!” Dennis shouted, lurching forward and wrapping his hands around his sister’s throat. The laughter turned to screaming as their classmates scattered, and Dennis tackled Dee to the ground and planted himself firmly above her, squeezing. Mac attempted to pull him back, and Charlie appeared to aid in the fiasco, but the four of them soon became such a hectic tangle of limbs and shouting and curse words that the neighbors who called the police would later note in their statement they feared a murder was taking place. 

It was the first and last time any of them saw the inside of Tim Murphy’s house. 

[jungnoir]

are you accepting requests? if you are, please write fluff for jaemin or jisung from nct!! idc what but i noticed they don’t have anything and i love them uwu thanks

friends to lovers!jaemin and jisung

a/n: I’m not accepting requests but… I’m also bored and stuck on everything else so here’s this tiny thing

⎡JAEMIN⎦

the annoying spicy best friend and boy next door until senior year

you guys lived right next to each other so of course you always hung out!! despite going to the same school and spending the whole day together already, you spend even more time with each other when you get home

you’d beg your parents to allow you both to play in the front yard and kick balls around or play hide and seek in jaemin’s huge backyard until dinner time and even sometimes past that

as you both got older, you’d get to hang out later, so you’d both chill in jaemin’s hammock in the late evening because you both were small enough to fit and tell each other funny or scary stories while the bugs left bites littered over your arms and legs (not that you really cared until you went home and couldn’t stop scratching)

you never thought of jaemin in a different way, though everyone else thought you did

play fights were commonplace between you two so whenever you’d get particularly rough with each other ur friends would be like “lol there go the lovebirds

and it was gross

it was…

gross

?

it was gross up until high school when your hormones kicked in and hey. jaemin is kinda gross. you still remember when he used to plant boogers on your locker handle or tackle you in sweaty arms if he lost to you in a game of kiddy basketball

but now jaemin doesn’t look like scrawny, stinky little jaemin anymore

no, now he can pick you up off the ground with two arms around your waist and laugh in your ear about how you should be more aware of your surroundings

now when he ruffles your hair he follows up with gently patting down the stray hairs, both hands smoothing down from the crown of your hair to the tops of your ears to the curve of your neck

now when he gives you those dark, mischievous eyes and asks “can I stay over tonight?” you can’t say you don’t shiver

you remember a time when you both were so young and so close that your parents would give you baths together for pete’s sake

and now you can’t even stand in your bedroom, ten feet away from each other, and look each other in the eye

he sits on your bed, slouched and flipping through channels on your tv

but when he sees you enter in just a pair of shorts and a giant shirt (his, though it’s been years since he’d last seen it)… he doesn’t quite remember what he was so focused on doing a few seconds ago

“…did you find a movie?” you ask softly, padding over to the other side of your bed as he immediately sits up and draws his long limbs to his sides

“oh! uh… no dice. maybe we should just rewatch something you have here?”

you shrug, point to the popcorn he’s got on your nightstand, and allow yourself a silent heave of air when he’s not looking your way anymore

he retrieves a movie you two have watched so many times before that you can recite the words together and not miss a beat

so it. it feels different tonight. somehow

there’s just a bowl of popcorn separating your hands from finding the other’s and this odd tension in the air that was birthed the minute you walked into your room after telling jaemin you were just gonna “change into something movie night-worthy”

you two don’t end up throwing yourselves over each other like usual, being deliberately annoying and clingy just to make the other person laugh

the movie is about halfway through when jaemin suddenly moves the popcorn to the floor and rolls onto his side, resting his head on his fist as he stares at you

“what?” you ask, v aware of the warmth he’s giving off now that there’s no barrier between you

“nothing”

“it’s gotta be something if you’re just staring at me for no reason” you drag your knees up to your chest to somehow make yourself smaller under his gaze, even to bury your cheeks between your knees so that you could make sure he didn’t see the little twitch in your lip, the want to laugh nervously or spout out some ridiculousness to get him to stop looking at you building up in your tummy

“can’t I just look at you for no reason?” he scoots a little closer, maybe attempting to look funny to you as he says this but,,, he’s doing a really bad job of it

because he doesn’t look funny. if anything, he looks kind of… what is the word?

you bite your lip, “sorry, gotta pay to look”

“what’s your preferred currency, honey?”

oh my GOD shut up jaemin

you push at his chest, trying to ignore how your hand annoyingly remembers the mold of it even after you’d touched him

“silence” you joke, watching as he licks his lips and sits up so that he’s level with you

he reaches forward and cups your chin, glancing between your eyes and your lips

he isn’t even subtle about it

your mouth parts unconsciously, a sudden understanding to this tension you’ve both been feeling hitting you hard

jaemin resists the urge to run his thumb over your bottom lip when it gets released from you teeth, if only to spend this next moment looking at your face

and he’s not even surprised that you can feel it too

“you’ll have to be specific, there’s all kinds of silence”

you don’t know what this is

no, scratch that, you know exactly what it is, but you don’t know if you want to admit it to yourself yet

maybe you could get away with that for now

neither of you would hold it against the other if you just. tried it out once, right?

and so you lean in that much closer, breaths mingling unavoidably now

“getting specific enough for you?”

of course not

⎡JISUNG⎦

idk why i’m so obsessed with this visual of gamer!jisung but hear me out

gamer!jisung, best friends with your best friends aka the other dreamies, but probably the only one you can never get close to

besides the fact he’s a certified bully to the boys, you’re the only one that he isn’t… silly with

like he’ll have renjun in a headlock and then make eye contact with you and the mood immediately dies

you’ve asked each of the boys what the problem might be

are u scary? are u not his type of person to hang around? was he still put off by that time you body slammed mark into a wall?

ok you didn’t actually body slam him but he swears he felt his feet leave the ground for a moment

not your fault he has the weight of a singular macaroni noodle

jisung always talks to you respectfully and if he can, talks to you through the others

it wasn’t… fun… having jisung treat you this way

he was always your favorite not that you have favorites *ahem* forgive me, donghyuck *ahem* so it was v :///// u know

you really wanted him to be able to treat you like he treated the other boys!! because you’d gladly treat him the way you treat the others if only you had the CHANCE

or at least you’d like to know why he didn’t so you could have some kind of closure

jisung happens to run a gaming club at school, and with permission, the “club” (which mainly consisted of all of you) would stay behind after classes and play together in one of the abandoned classrooms

you always had to play against the others bc jisung never wanted to give anyone (you) the floor to challenge him

so one day, you just decide that you’ll sit in and observe jisung play against donghyuck in overwatch

and donghyuck is obliterating jisung

you’ve never seen donghyuck this good, getting excited enough to run over to donghyuck’s side and cheer him on

you place your hand on donghyuck’s shoulder

and jisung looks away from the screen for just one second to see it

right then, donghyuck destroys jisung with a victorious yell

of course, you’re both caught up in the excitement of the moment so the first person he hugs is you

and this is pretty normal for you guys; between wrestling around and being affectionate, it was never weird to receive a hug from anyone except jisung

then you hear a controller clatter to the floor and by the time you’ve peeled away from donghyuck at the loud sound, you see jisung storming out of the classroom

the other boys looked shocked, some even looking between each other, unsure what to do

you notice chenle about to offer to go after him when you stop him, “i’ll go calm him down… he’s probably just upset about the match, you know how he gets”

chenle nods for you to go, gnawing lightly on his bottom lip

you find jisung sitting on the stairs outside the school exit, his head resting in his hands as the evening grows later

the sun nearly blinds you as you move to sit next to him, mulling over what to say

after all, you two weren’t that close in the first place. surely you were the last person he wanted to see right now

without looking up, jisung begins grumbling, “I know, okay? you don’t have to lecture me about it”

you blink

you weren’t planning to lecture him at all!

“I know that it’s stupid to get upset but the game was getting to me and-”

you’re about to cut him off, tell him it’s okay, that it’s just a game and some people get upset about those things but that you all knew it wasn’t that deep

“-you know how much I’m crushing on (y/n)… when I saw them cheering for hyuck, I just lost all focus. it’s pathetic. I wish I could just man up and tell them instead of avoiding them all the time”

oh

jisung… didn’t know it was you

he sounds so distraught too, like he was upset he let himself get angry, upset he let you see him show emotion

you place a hand on jisung’s shoulder and instantly he tenses. you think it’s because he wasn’t expecting a touch but it’s because he knows this hand doesn’t belong to the others

so it had to be…

“it’s not pathetic. if anything is pathetic, it’s that it’s taken donghyuck this long to finally win against you in a game, and even then, you were distracted so it technically doesn’t count”

jisung raises his head and his eyes look rimmed red, frustrated

but his expression is gentle when he sees the caring look on your face

“…hyuck would kill you if he heard that” he mumbles, looking down at his hands

you just giggle and bump his shoulder with yours, “ah, I know. but he also knows you’re my favorite so…”

jisung looks back up at you in shock. “f-favorite?”

you hum, moving your hand from his shoulder to the one furthest from you, wrapping an arm around him so that he has to lean into you. he’s never been so close but it’s. nice. your shampoo smells. nice 

“you don’t think it’s weird? what I said?” jisung looks a little mortified when he remembers that he’d just confessed to you, albeit unknowingly, and you were acting like everything was ok

you look back over to him and shake your head, “not at all… I hope this means you’ll stop avoiding me, though”

jisung doesn’t know how to feel at first; he had always assumed that telling you about his crush would either result in you returning his feelings or cutting off all contact with him

but instead, you don’t do either. you just watch the sunset with him, holding onto him

he also sees that you’re just as wonderful as he thought you’d be. you haven’t told him that you return his feelings but he doesn’t feel terrible at all. if anything, he feels ten times lighter after realizing he never had to hide from you in the first place

he checks to see that you’ll let him before wrapping his arm around your waist and offering you a sheepish smile, “sounds good to me”

besides, he may think you don’t return his feelings, but it’s just a matter of time until he realizes the truth about that too