#its very rare i feel the same way about gender once it moves away. but its there still. just. deeply compressed.

[sisyphus-prime]

Tbh i will never get gender. In general. Any of it. Its all a mess and I just know im floating aimlessly somewhere in the grand soup of identities at any given point.

Makes me real happy to see people have fun w it. Even if I'll never get it.

[seraphiism]

𓆩 ღ 𓆪 𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐮𝐬

( what am i thinking, fooling myself into the belief that i'm capable of anything at all? )

chara : kaveh fandom : genshin impact quote cr : marya hornbacher a/n : gender neutral reader. talks of self-deprecation

I. 9 : 24 pm OH, BUT EVEN THE MOST BRILLIANT OF MINDS WAVER, THE PRESSURE IN PERFECTION SETTLING HEAVY ON AN ARCHITECT'S SHOULDERS. there is a tiring, a discouragement, and the creeping doubt in oneself and all the potential & glory once held in calloused hands.

how quickly time passes, slips through his fingers. the seconds tick and tick and tick ; he counts them : one two three four, but the seconds twist to hours in a blur, a haze that he cannot seek safe passage from, and he knows he is losing against time.

his head pounds, throbs with countless thoughts that race and cannot be put at ease. he shuts his eyes, elbows on his desk, and buries his face in his hands.

inhale, exhale. he is so terribly tired.

inhale again, shaky. exhale once more, trembling, on the verge of break.

he wants to give up, call it, admit defeat, admit that maybe he's lost his touch, found an ending to diamond days. he is so terribly exhausted, a worn heart beating only enough to pay grievances to muscle memory and give so little towards a withering creativity.

maybe he isn't meant for this anymore. perhaps he never was from the beginning.

inhale. exhale. a soul hangs on edge, sinews of gold awaiting in restoration for the quiet breaking of it all.

"kaveh?"

he straightens his posture, turns towards you with wide eyes. he has always worn his heart proudly on his sleeve, found vulnerability to be a beautiful thing in everyone but himself at rare times. a panic in red hues, then the forceful drowning of sorrows as he smiles a smile that doesn't meet his eyes.

you place the cup of tea before him, watching his shoulders relax at the warmth of it and the feeling of your hand on his back. he offers his thanks, smiles yet again, but there is something so heart wrenching in it that you cannot even think.

you nod, purse your lips, lean back on the desk ever so slightly. there are sketches and plans scattered about, works in progress both polished and unpolished, some wielding haphazard marks of frustration in stagnancy. you find yourself unsure of what to say, of how to comfort him, because you do not know what you can do to support him, not really. you do not share the same knowledge as he does in his craft, though you always find fascination in his ramblings for future designs and projects.

"i'm alright." he immediately tells you, hands on the teacup. it burns, yet he does not let go. he does not wish to concern you, not when the fault lies entirely with him. this should be easy, shouldn't take this long, yet he cannot make progress despite the efforts put forth. this should be easy. "just a little tired, that's all."

he watches the way your brows furrow ever so slightly, the concern on your features unable to be hidden. you reach a hand out, one he takes with such ease and gentleness. it burns.

"let go, love. it'll hurt you."

he releases his hold on the tea cup. the sensation goes away, leaves a kind numbness in its absence. you squeeze his hand, your lips a ghost of a touch against his knuckles.

"don't burn yourself, kaveh."

II. 12 : 47 am OH, BUT EVEN THE MOST RESILIENT STAGGER, THE PRESSURE IN PERFECTION SETTLING HEAVY ON AN ARCHITECT'S MIND. there is a knowing, a resignation, and the sharp doubt in oneself and all the potential & glory once held in calloused hands.

the tea cup is cold and empty, desolate. his fingers trace over it, the gold woven in porcelain so bright and yet so quick to shatter. sleep rests heavy on his eyes, lashes fluttering in failed means to stay awake, but he is losing against slumber.

his head aches ; he cannot seem to think, to move, to do anything. he is so very tired of this all. he leans back in the chair, tilts his head back and shuts his eyes.

in and out. deep breath. he releases the tension from his shoulders, loosens his jaw. he does not know how long he stills for -- it feels as if it's only seconds, but he opens his eyes to the sight of your approach, glances at the clock and realizes that minutes have passed.

he looks up at you when you lean over him, one hand resting on the chair, another pinching his cheek as you smile, fatigued. it is getting late. he is used to working through the night, but it feels later than it should, feels like time is both endless and almost nearing.

"you shouldn't wait for me." he tells you, gentle. "i'll be with you soon."

you hum, half skeptical and half amused. you lean down, kiss his forehead, then his lips, watch his wondrous smile bloom from your love.

"want more tea?"

"it's alright." kaveh responds, reaching up for you in silent plea for yet another act of ardor. "i just want you to sleep."

you kiss him again, smile against his lips.

"if you need me, i'm here, okay?"

there is a softness & kindness he is all too familiar with in your words, but there is something in the way you look at him that speaks more than either of you could ever say. you linger for a moment longer than usual as you exchange goodnights, and when you leave him, his heart feels lonelier than ever.

he can do this, he can, he tells himself, over and over, until it is a mantra of empty significance : meaningless, haunting, and worthless.

he can do this.

inhale, exhale. he is so terribly tired.

III. 4 : 13 am OH, BUT EVEN THE MOST RESOLUTE FALL, THE PRESSURE IN PERFECTION SETTLING HEAVY IN AN ARCHITECT'S HEART. there is an echo of failure, a surrendering, and the doubt in oneself and all the potential & glory once held in calloused hands.

oh, love, how his hands shake so, even in your hold.

he cannot do this, not anymore. what a lie that all was ; it is almost funny, he thinks, but he breaks entirely, cracks beneath the weight of it all. gods, he is so tired, so tired of doing this, tired of feeling like he's not enough, like he'll never be enough.

"come." you beckon him, his hand in yours as you lead him to bed. something in your heart brewed unease, knew that when you woke, he would not be at your side.

he does not bother to fight anymore, knew it was over the moment you took sight of him shrouded in heartache and misery as his tears fell and fell, endless as his mind told him of his unworthiness. how easily he let you drag him away from his work, finding himself so pitiful for seeking comfort in all he loved and knew.

you are the first to lie down in the bed you share, tugging at him gently as he follows after you. you hold him as close as you can, hand on the back of his head as his tears grace your skin, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

you stay silent, hug him as he cries until there are no tears to be found. it is quiet, this time and space that you both know to be haven.

"did you know," you begin, kissing his head as your fingers weave through blond locks, "that my haven is wherever you are?" you feel his grasp on you tighten, desperate. "everyone has somewhere that they cherish deeply, don't they? whether it's home or anywhere they feel safe."

there is something warm that falls on your skin, trails down your neck. you smile, your voice tender.

"everything and every place you have ever built is someone's haven, kaveh. you made someone's home, made a place where someone sleeps, made a place where someone falls in love. you are so wonderfully bright and brilliant-- so hardworking and kind. i won't let you forget that, not even for a little bit."

he cannot bring himself to speak, cannot even bring himself to stifle the sobs that escape. you hum a gentle lullaby, one you know that he once loved as a child, hold him until the words sink in and the self-hatred abates. it is when he finally looks at you that you stop, allow the still air to return once more. there it is, you think -- that revival of hope, a semblance of returning courage to try once again.

he tries to talk, tries to say thank you, but words are not enough, but you know. you know him as well as you know yourself, so you nod, understanding of it all.

"there's always tomorrow, dearest. we can try again tomorrow."

he is the one who nods this time, exhaustion hitting full force from everything he has felt today. yes, kaveh thinks, there is always a tomorrow. a tomorrow where he wakes by your side, a tomorrow where he wishes you a good morning, and a tomorrow to try again.

he murmurs a thank you, i love you into the etches of your skin, and finally succumbs to the divinity that is you. in the echoes of a moonlit night, you fall asleep together, knowing that there will be better days ahead.

[shinaus]

FIRST KISSES WITH YOU

part two

edit/update: we have art now! i want to give a super special shoutout to the artist @noaprugna for creating such wonderful pieces to accompany this, i'm incredibly thankful and spoiled hehe <3

shinso | todoroki | bakugo | kirishima | sero | kaminari | midoriya

a/n: someone asked me for these like a month ago and honestly? better late than never - i am here to deliver with a little collection of headcanons hehe. if there’s anyone else you’d like to see, send an ask over and let me know!

characters: hitoshi shinso, shoto todoroki, katsuki bakugo, ejiro kirishima, hanta sero, denki kaminari, izuku midoriya

themes: fluff, gender neutral reader!

shinso 

initiates: him

every day, i am haunted by this man's unwavering confidence the second he gets comfortable with you

either that or when he knows for sure how you feel about him

it wouldn’t be something that he makes a big thing out of, but you better believe he’s going to tease you about it if you try to first

the two of you are walking back from a coffee place you frequent together to his apartment, likely going back to hang out as you often do

although the day is much colder than the last few have been, the wind nipping at the back of your neck and your ears

shinso picks up on this immediately, stopping in his tracks and unraveling the scarf around his own neck

“c’mere” he beckons softly, slowly wrapping the scarf around you when you’re stood in front of him

it’s hard to protest, but you do try at least in worry for him

“what about you?” is your response, lip jutted out slightly in a pout

he chuckles then, giving each end of the scarf a small tug as if to solidify his choice

“don’t worry about it, can’t have you getting cold now can i?”

the smile that makes its way onto his face is one you’ve only come to see recently, but it’s hard to ignore the adoration that comes along with it

his face is close to yours now, even with him being a good amount taller - so why not thank him for the kind gesture?

now up on your toes, you’re quick to leave a quick peck on his nose before coming back down

though no flush or shyness or embarrassment from him comes, that you can see anyway

the smile he had somehow widens, eyebrows rising along with it

“very cute, but you missed” he tells you, rather matter of factly too

before you can question him on it however, he’s the one to lean down now and let his lips meet yours

they’re a lot warmer than what yours are, mainly due to the fact he only recently just finished his coffee

his hands stay holding the scarf he had put around you, though you feel him move that much closer to you before eventually pulling away

and man, does he look proud of himself

he’d even laugh a little if you evidently shy away, giving your nose the same treatment you had done for him as if in apology

once the moment is over, he’d confidently hold his hand out for you to take

“shall we get going?” he would ask, only continuing to tease once you both start walking again

“sooner we get home, sooner i can heat you up give you more”

todoroki

initiates: you... kind of

it’s common for him to be pinned as someone with not a lot of experience, too busy focusing on his tremendous amounts of pro hero work to make time for relationships

which ultimately, is partly true

todoroki is in no way clueless

it comes easily to you, the understanding of how perceptive and observant he is

one time he had proved that was driving you home after one of your first dates together

the familiar jitters had long since passed, instead replaced by comfortable silence as you watched him from the passenger seat

every so often he’ll catch your eye, giving you a rare smile or even reaching his hand out towards you if you want to hold it

of course you do, something he’s come to know as well

only once parked up outside where you live does the air around him start to change, making you aware that he’s thinking about something

or more that he’s hesitating about it

“everything alright?” you ask him, voice soft which only seems to draw him in more

giving you a quick nod, he leans in the slightest bit before stopping - nose almost brushing yours

“yes” he replies not even a second later, that same smile making its way onto his face

“thank you for tonight, i really enjoy spending time with you” he adds, eyes trailing along your face but unmoving from in front of you

the entire car begins to feel warmer, nerves creeping up the back of your neck until you realise -

he’s not teasing you, not at all

instead he’s letting you take control, make a move on your terms instead of his own 

the gesture itself is enough to make you lean forward, lips meeting his softer ones

the two of you stay like that for a while, his hand eventually making it’s way up to cup your cheek

the warmth is more than welcoming, almost making you regret having to pull away

alas, you do - somehow smiling wider when you catch him chasing your lips briefly before moving back into his seat

even with his usual demeanour, it’s hard to miss the way a flush has made its way onto his face

“let’s... do this again sometime” he offers, a small chuckle leaving him when he realises what that could insinuate 

before he can correct himself however, you agree - reassuring him that you’ll call him again in the morning

with one last quick kiss to the hand he still has in his grasp, todoroki sees you off as you make your way to the front door

though the call comes earlier than he anticipated, his phone buzzing as he takes his shoes off at his own apartment

there’s no hesitation in him answering, even less somehow when agreeing to meet up with you the next day

bakugo

initiates: you

time for me to push the agenda once again

bakugo is the trope of mean to everyone but you

though he likes to act all big and bad as if he’s the boss in the relationship, really he just needs some reassurance every once in a while

you’re who he’s decided he can be fully comfortable with, which includes his vulnerabilities 

oh and - he wants to be the best at everything

so he tries to be the one to initiate the kiss first, but it just doesn’t work out for him

either you don’t pick up on his hints, he isn’t obvious enough or the moment just ends too quickly

eventually he’ll start to get frustrated, mostly with himself for somehow not managing to get it right

what you start to notice after a while is that he starts to get huffy about it, even pouty when you kiss anywhere else on his face

cause if he can’t do it - and you can’t do it, then what happens?

one day you’re sat on the couch of one of your apartments, his arm around your shoulders paying full attention to the movie that’s playing

but your attention is fully on him

it didn’t take much longer for you to realise what he wanted

mostly because he was just so obvious about it 

this could be your chance to land one on him, have the upper hand and be able to tease 

leaning up towards him, he’s barely given the time to register what you’re doing before your lips are on his

with his free arm seemingly glued to his side, you feel him begin to relax when the other that was around your shoulders now moves to hold you in place

don’t think he won’t act cocky once you eventually pull away

as if homeboy did anything to initiate it 

he’ll talk a good game and smirk at you if he got any kind of reaction, believe me

above all else he’s just relieved that the moment happened with you making the move

kirishima

initiates: him

i could make this a sentence long

kirishima would try his absolute best to make you feel happy and comfortable with him

that’s literally all i have to say

he’s a classic guy, asks you out in the sweetest way and runs everything by you to make sure you’ll have the best time with him

i picture it being him taking you home, walking down the street towards your place hand in hand

both of you are in your own world, rambling away about whatever you choose to share with each other as the night grows darker

once you get to the door however, the red head lingers a little longer 

keeping your hand wrapped in his larger one for just that extra minute or so

you can see he’s a little nervous, finding it hard to meet your eyes until he decides to break the now forming comfortable silence

“i’d really love to take you out again!” he more announces than anything, chuckling a little bashfully to himself when he hears you giggle

though he’s good at staying in the moment with you, further reassurance being brought when you give his hand a squeeze

“today was just - i had such a good time, and you look incredible” he continues, confidence growing when he watches you fluster yourself

“if you don’t want me to, then it’s totally okay. but i’d really like to kiss you right now, you know - to say goodbye” he mostly mumbles the ending, cheeks beginning to redden before becoming aware that you had agreed

he keeps you close to him, one arm around your waist while the other goes to the back of your neck, running along the hair that meets him for the briefest second

then, his lips are on yours

he’s soft, slow with his movements as if he could at some point scare you off

that thought completely cancels out when he sees you smile once its over, his own lips likely turned up in the exact same way

he promises to text when he gets home, making his way as you take your leave and already starting to plan where to take you on the next date

sero

initiates: him

hanta sero is not going to be nervous to kiss you

not the slighest bit

and yeah i said it

he is so laid back, so casual in everything that he does that he thinks of the moment as more

probably does it before you even started dating let's be real here

of course this respectful boy would only do something if you wanted it too

but it really just does not bother him

you could be hanging out together, just scrolling on your phone with him while you're lying with your back against his chest

his chin is on your shoulder, absentmindedly running his hands along your arms quite contently

and he would just be like oh, i could go a kiss right now

he'd call your name, smiling lazily when you meet his eyes

"you know, i really wanna take you out for real" he'd tell you fairly suddenly, the smile widening when he watches you shy away from him the smallest bit

"yeah?" you reply, unable to hide your own happy expression at the confession

he nods, not an ounce of uncertainty in the gesture

with that however, his finger makes it's way under your chin to tilt your head closer to him

"for sure, 'nd take you somewhere nice too" he continues, leaning all that much closer

"you wanna wait until then for a kiss? or think i could give you one now?" the entire conversation is just teasing, taunting in the way he knows you're considering your options

a now, please hardly leaves your lips before he's leaning in, lips warm as they move against yours

once he pulls away, the same smile is on his face as he runs a thumb over your cheek

the entire rest of the day he spends looking just beyond content, asking every so often if he can speak another kiss

then another

and then another

to summarise, sero kisses you once and after that cannot stop kissing you

you bet he'll make that date the best one you've ever been on

prepare to be absolutely spoiled

kaminari

initiates: both, somehow

a sweet boy who could never do any wrong

well 

maybe

anyways you know he’s excited to kiss you, probably tried it many a time

asking you out, first date, second date...

teases you and kisses elsewhere on your face instead

no, that’s not to hide the fact he doesn’t want it to be bad, how he’s nervous he acts too quickly, not at all

kaminari if anything is the one from all those old cheesy romcoms they used to show

y’know

will they kiss? oh they’re leaning in and -

they’ve bumped foreheads, hard

he really does his best that i can promise you

wants everything to be right because he really likes you a lot and spending time with you has become his favourite thing

he just needs... to take his time

when it happens you’re both just too in the moment, chances are homeboy still takes you to dates at the arcade and won you something you’d been eyeing from one of the machines

it’s like he often ends up - rushed, clumsy - if anything, very fitting of the dynamic you both have

plus, nothing could quite beat the sheer happiness radiating off of him once you both pulled away and looked at each other again

it’s like unlocking a new achievement: constant denki kisses

after the first instance is over, he’ll be doing it all the time

every time he sees you, has to leave, before he starts talking, after he finishes talking, any chance he gets he’ll want to kiss you

man has a lot of love to give, so you better get used to being on the receiving end of that constant attention

it’ll also likely lead him to being more confident in kissing you elsewhere - places like your temple if you’re close enough to him or the back of your neck when you fall asleep together

overall, very wholesome and again, sweet

midoriya

initiates: you

man, oh man

midoriya is not initiating it and i stand by him for that

he’s by far the most attentive, especially with physical affection

but confidence comes gradually - mainly in the form of soft touches, hand holding, arms around you etc

he just worries too much about pressuring you 

as if y’all literally aren’t dating already lmao

anyways

be prepared for him to take a minute after you do it

he’s long outgrown his old habits of y’know - losing all ability to function whenever someone looks at him with even the smallest interest

that doesn’t mean he’s fully adjusted

the two of you could be walking home from a date, say the park or a hike trail he wanted to go to with you

very nice and outdoorsy

you very casually invite him into your apartment and start going about getting you both some water, leaning over and pecking his lips before you do so

barely even thinking about it, mainly since you’d kissed just about everywhere else on his face at this point

then leave to go into the kitchen

and thank god you do

mans is red in the face, trying to process the fact that you just kissed him - and so nonchalantly too, when he’s been trying to pick the right moment to do it for who knows how long

awkwardly tries to recover from it before you get back but fails miserably

so you know what he does to distract you from his shy state?

ASKS YOU TO DO IT AGAIN

mans may end up a nervous wreck but he is not about to let the opportunity slip to kiss you

plus, chances are he’ll call it all in good practice 

[treesandtheirberries]

Dad!Harry talks to his daughter about her questioning sexuality

A/N: might make this into a blurb series? so presh. if you have any concepts around this, send them my way. 

wc: 2,249

June was Harry and Y/N’s first baby, their biggest accomplishment before they were soon having another child. June was currently 13, the awkward age of Middle School, puberty, and overall questioning of identity. Y/N and Harry wanted this weird stage to be a smooth transition. They always encouraged her to express herself, with clothes, in hobbies, with their conversations. Although their first child, they both felt as though they managed to get through the difficulties of becoming a parent easily (thanks to the massive amount of parenting books, from birth to adolescence, that Harry kept buying while June was still in the womb). 

Yet, there is only so much you can prepare your child for, and surely you can’t be there to guide them through every difficulty. Harry and Y/N weren’t sure if June would question her sexuality as both of them weren’t straight, they didn’t know if the process was the same for heterosexuals. But they never skirted around the topic. If anything, they encouraged watching same-sex couples in movies and such, even having many friends who had families with someone of the same gender (or a partner that was non-binary). 

Harry hoped that this would be an excellent way to acclimate their children to the varying diversity of the world. Y/N grew up with racial diversity, but anything deviant from heterosexuality or cisgender was heavily frowned upon. They hoped that with their lack of omission of the varying aspects of identity their children would have the opportunity to understand themselves easier rather than constantly question their identity. 

They forgot to take into account that this was simply a stage in adolescence they had to endure though, as Eric Erickson put it: a fight between identity and role confusion. And June was currently right at the center of it.

June, even as a child, was usually calm and they rarely had problems with her being fussy like they do with the twins, Mazzy and Mick (named after the artists constantly playing on their home turntable). Thus, any changes were quickly noticed in her behavior. 

-------

Picking up the kids from daycare and June from school was on the top of Y/N’s list of things to do for the day. She adored seeing everyone’s faces after a day at work and seeing their warm smiles and tight hugs always brightened her mood. 

Today, things seemed different. 

June jumped into the front seat with a grunt, a frown, and even went as far as throwing her bag onto the floor of the car forcefully. This was generally out of character, except Y/N and Harry have noticed these bursts of anger more recently. 

“What’s eating at ‘ya bug?” Y/N calmly asked, wanting to maintain a balance of emotions although knowing June was perhaps all over the place as most teenagers are. 

June rubbed her hands on the top of her thighs and noticeably took a few deep breaths; a calming tactic her father taught her when she was younger to calm herself. She took a few more breaths until facing her mother to talk. “Sage didn’t want to hang out this weekend,” she finishes, the frown being found on her face once again.

“Oh, is she busy? Thought you two were having a sleepover at home?” Y/N inquired. She knew Sage and her daughter were best friends since the beginning of sixth grade, and she hoped they would maintain their friendship although she knew the ups and downs adolescents faced it might not be possible.

“She said she’s going to the mall with Rye.”

“As in the bread?” Y/N chuckled, trying to lift the mood.

June rolled her eyes, another behavior that has risen in frequency. “No mom. A boy. That she likes.” She grumbled crossing her arms and sinking further into the seat.

“Oooooh I see what’s going on here, Sage is going on a date!” She rose her voice to a pitch of puppy love, which didn’t sit well with June. 

“We promised we wouldn’t date boys in Middle School. They’re all so stupid and ugly. I don’t get why she’s ditching me for him.” 

Y/N was a bit surprised by this. Harry and she have talked about the day they’d have to worry about June’s infatuation with others and they were dreading it. Hearing that June didn’t have interest in it now was a relief, but of course, this whole conversation was concerning. 

“I understand, not the nicest to make plans with someone when she already made some with you. But June-bug, you guys are teenagers. Of course, she’s going to take an opportunity to go on a date with a freaking boy!”

“Language momma!” Mick yelled, the three-year-olds’ well acquainted with naughty words.

“I guess. Just rude s’all.” June finished with another grumble. She wasn’t known for throwing huge fits, and her outbursts were usually this short. 

Still, Y/N knew that this would be something that would affect her for the rest of the week. Her daughter is calm but incredibly sensitive, and the two parents have learned how to work through her internal struggles. She decided to ask the usual question during June’s turmoils: “wanna talk to dad about it?” 

“Yes please.”

--------

Harry was finishing washing the plates as Y/N was getting the twins ready for bed. The small domestic moments like these reminded Harry of how lucky he was to have a family like his. He noticed June’s mood as soon as everyone entered the house, and once Y/N confirmed they would need to talk later, Harry was preparing himself to support his daughter through her problems. Y/N and he were definitely lucky with their firstborn being like June. Sometimes he’ll credit his efforts in teaching June meditation early, and depending on the day, Y/N agrees. 

As he dries the plates to put back in their cupboards, June walks in. 

“Hiya bug. C’mere give Poppa hug.”

June rolls her eyes (he’s having a hard time adjusting to these teenager habits) and walks closer to her father. Although she’s extremely close with both of her parents, there is a timeless connection she has with her father. “Not a child anymore dad. And please, do not call yourself poppa again. You’re not that old yet.” She mumbled in his chest, clearly needing the affection.

“Mom said you wanted to talk? Want her there?”

“Uhm. Maybe we could just talk in my room please.” 

“Of course, let me just put these plates all back” Harry smiled, only letting go of the hug once he felt June move away. A small trick he learned from his mother after she attacked him with countless parenting trips: never let go in a hug with your child, let them determine when the hug is over. It gives them more comfort and stability in their lives and although he saw this as minimal, he understood its significance.

“I’ll help.”

----

As they walked to June’s room, they caught Y/N walking back from the twins’ room. “Hey baby, twins are done for. I’ll be in the room. “ She pecks Harry quick on the lips and turns to June to wrap her in a hug. “Love you cutie,” she winks at June as she goes to her room.

“Love you momma” June smiles, happy that she has a supportive family like this one. 

“I’ll be there in a bit,” Harry smiles, his arm going back to June’s shoulders, giving it a squeeze. 

Once they get to her room, both take a seat on June’s bed. Her back is on the headboard while Harry sits at the edge facing her, cross-legged. Every once in a while June would request to speak to Harry, Y/N,  or both of her parents on the issues bothering her. Harry and Y/N were proud of having a daughter that felt comfortable enough to communicate with her parents, and they always were looking for new ways to enrich themselves with the issues kids have a different ages. 

“Speak to me June, what’s on your mind lady?” Harry starts, initiating the push. He can tell that she’s struggling to bring her thoughts to words.

“Did you....well. How did you ... realize you didn’t like ... uhm, just girls?” She hesitantly asked, too flustered to look at her father on such a strange topic. 

Oh, it’s happening, Harry thought. “Well, I was pretty young, I guess around your age, and I realized that I just wasn’t fully straight. It developed from there I guess, I talked to a few friends about it, spoke to your grandma, and eventually met a boy I really liked. It was really scary, I’m not going to lie, figuring out my feelings at that point. After that, it wasn’t a big deal and everyone in the family understood. I just knew something like gender wasn’t a big deal to me, and if I liked someone I liked them. But it’s different for everyone. Your mom can tell you how she found out she’s bi.”

June was soaking in the information her father gave her. She knew both of her parents weren’t straight, but hearing how they found it out was something entirely different. It wasn’t that she was foreign to the concept, but in personal terms, it was utterly confusing. 

She finally looked to her father, giving him a small smile at the personal information he shared. They were a very open family, but something about this felt even more personal. “But, did you ever think you were faking it?” 

“Not really, but you already know how pretentious your father is,” he chuckled, lighting the mood. “Your mother, as she’ll tell you, had a completely different experience. Said she struggled for years thinking she was either faking it or actually completely gay! She once told me that she just couldn’t disclose it with anyone, and that led her to a lot of contemplation. But if you’re feeling this way too, I need you to know your mother and I are here to support you in any way we can.”

“Dad,” June scrunched her eyes looking down at her crossed legs. “I think I might like girls. Or at least, I think. After Sage told me she’d ditched me I just realized I don’t like her just as a friend.” 

At this moment, tears began to form in her eyes from all the confusion. Instantly Harry brought her into aa encompassing bear hug, keeping her safe in his chest. It hurt him to see her going through this dilemma, the inter-workings of adolescents were never fun. 

“It’s just,” June suddenly choked on a sob, grasping her dad’s hoodie. Harry began to rub her back for support. “I like her I think. Like really like her dad. I don’t want her to date a boy, I want to date her. But she won’t like me and...I don’t know! Why did this have to happen to me!” She continued, clearly soaking his hoodie.

“Oh baby, please don’t ever think this is a bad thing. Sexuality is a spectrum, many of our friends are somewhere on it, and you already know Elizabeth and Mary are married. This is a beautiful thing to discover baby. But yes, I won’t lie to you, it’s going to be hard. There may be times you like someone who doesn’t like girls but bug, that’s simply life.”

“What if I am dad. I don’t know if I like boys at all.”

“Then you are. As simple as that. You can label how you feel or not, it’s all about what feels most comfortable to you. As you know, your mother and I will be here to support you in any way we can. If you like girls, so be it, you’re still our daughter and you know that. If you like boys, which I mean yuck,” he imitated a gagging noise, rising a laugh out of June “then okay. Both or everyone? It’s all okay bub. I do want you to think about it, It might take some time to accept it but we’re accepting you any way you are. You’re so beautiful and strong, and your sexuality doesn’t diminish that in any way.” He made sure to hug her tightly as he said this, expressing his full support. 

“Dad, thank you.” June exhaled, releasing herself to wipe her tears. 

“Of course, June. I’m so happy you were able to tell me this, I know it must’ve been hard.”

After a deep breath, June looked calmer after her small crisis. “I knew you guys would be okay with anything but it’s just, much harder than I expected to really like your friend who doesn’t like you.”

“It’s hard, so so hard. Ask your mum, seriously I swear she told me she also liked one of her friends at your age. Universal gay experience perhaps?” Harry pondered. 

June gave a small laugh to that. “Yeah, I’ll ask. I don’t want her to think I left her out of this, it’s just that I’ve heard about your sexuality in the media more.”

“Pesky things, but I understand. It was so hard for your mom in comparison to me. Do you want me to let her know first, is it okay that I let her know you might be questioning?” He gave her daughter a sincere inquisitive look, valuing consent over everything. 

“Yeah, of course. Probably talk to her tomorrow after we drop the twins off. I really appreciate it, dad.”

“No problem bug. Let’s get you tucked away.” 

__________ part 2

OH MY GOD this is my first I HOPE YOU LIKE. please any feedback would be so sexy. 

[ren-therose]

The Penthouse Plot

Sherlock X F!Reader (3.8k words)

Summary: Sherlock, John and Reader all go to a penthouse party to pick up some clues about their newest case. But Y/N and Sherlock are put in a compromising situation. 

Warnings: smut 18+, semi-public sex, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), creampie, squirting, after care

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We are going to a party”

This was an incredibly abrupt statement from the detective who was still in pajamas at four in the afternoon, slouched down into the arm chair with the news paper covering his face. I couldn’t see his emotions, but I could tell that the idea had already been formulated, and he had not quite been excited out of it. His boredom was chronic, and it would often times only be soothed by myself to get him out of it. 

The first time we met, I was sitting on a park bench in Paddington Street Gardens, not but two blocks away from his flat. As if drawn to the cigarette I was smoking, he walked up as casually as he could, coat turned up, and sat on the bench over from my left. I didn’t look, but I was aware that a tall, dark man was watching me as I tried to solve today's crossword in the paper. 

He leaned closer, trying to take in the smoke for the nicotine high. With a slight glance his way, it was all I needed to take the cigarette from my mouth in my left hand, and casually rest it on the bench next to me. I blew out the smoke to the right side of my mouth though, purposefully keeping it from him, allowing my lips to guide the smoke in a stream to dissipate into the morning air. Still looking at the crossword, I began filling in 20 across, feeling a sense of intrigue and frustration emanating from the man next to me. 

“It’s not diva, its aria,” a deep voice says. I smirk, not looking up to his face quite yet. 

“No shit, Sherlock. 18 down is ‘erie’, so why would I put down diva?” I inquire, but before he could answer, I reply myself. “I was proving my hypothesis: is the detective next to me just trying to second-hand smoke, or is he actually paying attention to me? And the answer was both.”

He stands and comes to sit on my right side, not looking at me directly. The cigarette dangling from my lip wasn’t his main concern anymore. 

“How quickly did you realize it is only an herbal cigarette Mr. Holmes?” I ask, erasing my trap from 20 across. 

“As soon as I first looked at you. You have no stains on your fingers from the smoke, as well as no burns, which tells me you don’t smoke often. If you were a smoker, you would need at least a pack a day, and these tell-tale signs would be there. You don’t need to smoke because there isn’t an addiction. I presume you do it to attract men, though possibly women too, and to fit into the culture of London, as you are not from here. But you specifically looked up this park because you were looking for something or someone. I would presume it is me, considering you recognized me through my name” he says smuggly, finally looking at me. I didn’t know it then, but he later explained that he was shocked to see the prominence of my “subtle beauty”, and the way in which I held posture in every way that symbolized I was relaxed next to him. This of course was followed by the fact that I was so comfortable that I had gained a pound within the first year of knowing him. 

“So you are as good as they say,” I reply, looking up into his clear blue eyes. Those eyes dart down to my lips where the cigarette is still being held by the moisture of my mouth. I remove it, holding out the cigarette between my fingers. “I can imagine it is worlds different from a regular cigarettes addictive effects, but the smell of smoke and the herbs inside might calm you,” I offer. He leans down and takes the cigarette in his mouth, inhaling deeply. I let go of the cigarette as he leans back and removes it. He exhales out, happy to have something other than CO2 leave his lungs. 

“You could have phoned” he said nonchalantly. I closed the newspaper and turned my body slightly more towards him. 

“No I couldn’t. This isn’t about a case or me looking for my parents or some shit. I needed you to listen. I am a doctor and I am looking for the topic of my next publication” I state. His eyes widen a bit, as he gives me a once over. I was quite young to have a doctorate, but the ambition I have was intriguing to him.

“Great, another doctor. And you must study some form of psychology right?” he implies. 

I chuckle as I brush the hair behind my ear to look at him as I explain my credentials. 

“BA in a social science and a minor in Women's Studies and Gender, just to make it easier on you. Two masters in something to do with policy and a knack for behavior trends across cultures. A PhD in…” I trail off to let him figure it out. 

“International Relations. You couldn’t let go of the need to work abroad and help other. You also study the difference in human behaviors and how it can be interpreted and persuaded. It is why you are now living in London, after living in a southern European country, and I’m going to go with Italy” he responds. 

I raise my eyebrow at him. “Italy was fun. I spent most of the time on the mainland with a friend and would visit their family in Sardinia”. 

“He was gay wan’t he?”

“Not that he himself knew.”

The detective laughed. It was the beginning of a friendship, with many late nights, bad coffee and fighting. I lived in the basement of 221 Baker Street, after coming to a bargain price with Mrs. Hudson if I agreed to get rid of the black mold and redo the space for future renters. When I asked her why she was already thinking of future renters, she just smiled and told me Sherlock's door was open and I could just walk in. 

Now, a year and a half later, I was in his flat, in my own night gown and robe, working on pot of tea to make a London foggy, one of Sherlocks favorite drinks I could make. I had told him that if he got to work in his pajamas, or just a sheet at times, then he couldn’t expect anything less of me. But his abrupt statement that we were going to a party had me do a double take. 

“A party? Are we feeling like clubbing tonight Sherlock?” I tease. 

“It is just a bit of field work. But I need you to come with as my date so that I am not bothered by lonely, sad women.”

“Ah yes. All the lonely, sad women will flock to the handsome, cocky detective for comfort and an inquisitive night,” I mock, bringing the tea to him. 

“Isn’t that what you did?” He says without looking up. 

Offended, I grab the paper from his hands and smack him on the head with it. He flinched, protecting his tea from me. 

“Haven’t you figured it out by now? I’m here for John” I say, tossing the paper into his lap. Sherlocks mouth slightly gapes before he snaps it shut, looking behind me. 

“I’m sorry, what did I just walk in on?” John says from the doorway. Sherlock turns red as I walk up to John, pulling my leg up on him, placing my hand on his cheek while giving him a lingering kiss on the other, maintaining eye contact with Sherlock. “Afternoon John,” I say with a flirtatious growl. He didn’t move since my dramatic act, and as I exited the apartment to get ready, I hear John exclaim “I could get used to that kind of welcome”. I laugh as I hear the paper get thrown at the doctor. 

Two hours later, and a lot of fighting with a curling wand, I hear a knock at my door. I do a once-over of myself in the mirror. It was a high-end party, requiring a more put together look, and I was determined to look my best. In helping Sherlock and John, I realized that I rarely dressed up-practicality and professionalism is key. 

I put my phone into my handbag, and slipped my feet into my black pointed stilettos. One more once-over in the mirror next to the door, and I unlatched the lock. As soon as I opened it, the detective couldn’t help but let his eyes wander. My hair was in loose curls around my face, and the dress, oh the dress, flattered my body in every way. It was a silk green dress, that hugged every curve. It was ruched in the sides, creating a tight draping across my abdomen. The fabric on my bust sat just below the tops of my breasts, and dropped to my off-the-shoulder sleeves. I was wearing a simple emerald necklace with matching earrings, and a ruby ring on my left hand. My legs were well accentuated, and the stilettos did wonders for my posture. Still, I was the same girl in pajamas at this now well suited man's place as I was now. 

“You’re giving yourself away Detective,” I flirt, walking by him to climb the stairs to the front of the building. I make extra care to add a little movement as I climb, knowing he would be right behind me and very distracted. It was my favorite game to tease both of the boys, but especially Sherlock. It was always a game, and he loved games. As I exited the building, John was waiting for us outside, also dressed sharply. His eyes widened as I walked towards him. 

“In the words of a great detective, ‘Your body betrays you’ John. It’s still me inside this get-up. Now where is the cab?” I ask. 

“Umm...uh, there hasn’t been an available one yet...” he forces out. 

London was busy on a Saturday night, and it could often be difficult to find a cab. Lucky for us, my dress is pretty reflective, and I was going to use that to my advantage. I stepped off the curb just slightly, jutting out my shoulder blades and putting my weight on one foot to give myself more shape. By the time I had raised my hand, two taxis pulled up. I heard a cough behind me, Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson both smirking at me. 

“I’m sorry, did you have a better idea?” I shoot at them. I open the door for myself and climb into the cab. The two men clambered in after me. 

The party was at a lovely high-rise in the middle of London. It looked to be a penthouse, but one grander than I had ever seen. As the three of us exited the elevator, we looked at each other once more, setting our plan in motion. John was to walk around and mingle, while Sherlock and I were to snoop about the place, looking for context clues. I grabbed a flute of champagne from one of the trays, and Sherlock and I began our promenade. We quickly realized that I was drawing a bit too much attention in my get-up and we would need to look around before people noticed we were gone. Our arms entwined, we strolled past the main crowd into a hallway, casually chatting the weather. The detectives hand was on my waist, holding tightly, as though I might leave his side. It was different than they way he usually grabbed my arm to move me around or out of the way of harm. 

We were looking for the bedroom of our hosts place, though, it did not seem there was one here. The penthouse was more of a party pad then a living space, which lends more to our profile of him. We continued to walk, and came across a study. His hand slid off my waist as he entered the room. I stood outside with my drink, while Sherlock took note of every little detail there. As he came out of the room though, I heard footprints coming round the corner. I grabbed his arm and pulled him into the bathroom next to the study. As I pushed him in, our eyes searched each other for the next move that we hadn’t initially planned. Though we were going as a date, it was never really a date. Until now. 

Grabbing the lapels of the detectives suit, I slammed my lips on his, pushing us both backwards onto the sink. Knowing that he was more recognizable. I spun him around so that my back was to the sink and his was to the door. I jumped on to the sink, hiking up my dress a little higher, so that I could hook one leg around his waist. Instinctively, his right hand went to my leg to hold it up, and his left hand was in my hair. 

His lips. I had seen them a million times before, studying his face as he rambled about a case. While he was just a colleague and possibly a friend, there were a few times when I would fall asleep thinking about those lips. And here he was, kissing me on a bathroom sink at a party, with enough force to make me melt into it. My hand went to his hair, as he began to trail kisses down my neck, hiding his face in me so that his reflection could not be seen. My other hand was gripping his waist, trying not to slip into the sink itself. My shoe was dangling on my toes as our bodies continued to crash. We heard the door click open, and my eyes opened to see the host and his assistant wide-eyed at us. 

“Occupied,” I panted, smiling with a small wave. The two quickly shut the door, their footprints receding down the hallway. As soon as it was quiet, Sherlock froze on my collarbone, neither of us moving for a moment. I removed my hand from his hair, trying to pat it back into place. He stood up, and looked down at me. My dress had ridden up further, and my black lace panties were definitely on display. So was the red in both of our faces. I glanced over his shoulder to look at the door, realizing that there was a lock on it. Sherlock didn’t look back. He kept his eyes on me. 

He knew there was a lock. He wanted the situation. He wanted to get caught.

“Lock it” I demanded.

He took a few steps back and turned the button, locking the door. His eyes didn’t leave me. I was still propped up against the sink, both hands propped up behind me. My legs had still been open, and as his eyes raked over my body looked, I grew self-conscious and went to close them. But he stepped towards me, grabbing my lower thigh. I hesitantly opened myself back up for him. His hand moved up my thigh, while the other wrapped around my waist, drawing himself closer to me. I placed a hand on his chest, running it up until it was at the nape of his neck, playing with his soft, black curls. I gently tugged him toward me, and our lips attached once more. This time, it was more more sensual. Taking the time to just allow ourselves to feel one another. As he pulled away, I let out a small gasp as I felt his growing bulge against my clothed core. 

He seized the opportunity to kiss me again, letting his tongue wander and explore my mouth, pulling me as close as I could be to him. He pushed himself against me, causing a soft moan to escape, as I involuntarily rolled against him. He smirked against my mouth, moving once more against me. I hissed, feeling myself grow wetter. 

Sherlock pulled me off the sink, wrapping both of my legs around him before pinning me against the wall. I was sitting just on top of his cock, and the friction was even more frustrating. I grinded down on him, kissing his neck, while leaving small bites in between. I needed more though. I unwrapped my legs, and he lowered me to the ground. When he placed me down, I kissed him with passion while I started to undo his trousers. He walked backwards to the sink, leaning up against it, as I palmed him through his suit. His low groan made me quiver as I licked a long stripe up his neck to his ear, wear I softly bit the lobe. This drove him crazy.

Pants still undone, he whipped us around so that I was against the sink again. He pulled my dress up enough so that he could hook his fingers in the lace of my panties and pull them down. He lifted me up on to the sink to get them off of me. He worked them past my heels, and placed both of his hands on my thighs, rubbing circles into them with his thumb. His forehead was resting on mine and we were both breathing in sync. I opened my legs for him, as he traced his way between my legs. The violinist in him was showing, and he was going to work out the tension and boredom he had been feeling all day. His fingers came in contact with me, running through my folds. He went from my clit down to my opening, just toying with me. I let out a whimper as he placed his middle finger just barely inside of me. He slowly pushed his digit inside of me, causing a guttural groan to escape. I bucked into his hand, desperate for more. He pumped it casually, as if he had done this to me a million times and knew how I would react. He then slipped a second finger into me, causing me to emit another moan. 

“Please Sherlock. No games,” was all I could manage. 

He began to pump his fingers in a come-hither motion, curling them to hit my g-spot. I gasped with every movement, keeping as quiet as I could. He was working his way to get me as wet as I could be for him. I was starting to feel the tension in my stomach build when he placed his thumb on my clit and made sharp movements with it. I cried out, gripping his shoulders for support. I was going to need him soon if he wanted to me to finish with his cock inside me. But he kept pumping and rubbing, watching as my face conveyed every emotion he had ever made me feel. My arm wrapped around his neck, as I could barely keep myself up anymore. 

“Sherlock, you-you’re gonna..m-make me..c-cum…” I stutter out. I am rocking against his hand, chasing what I can’t stop. This only urges him more, as he quickens his pace. Without warning, I cum all over his finger with a cry. But he doesn’t stop. He continues to work my pussy, until I gasp out “I’m...I’m gonna squirt”. He steps out from between my legs, his fingers not stopping. As he steps to the side, he leans in to my ear and finally says something. 

“Show me”. 

It was all it took for my orgasm to elongate itself, as I squirted on his hand. I couldn’t stop and was shaking, barely able to keep myself up. I almost crumpled backwards before he caught me. Once again, he was between my legs, his hands on my neck and waist. I reached for his painfully hard cock, pulling it from his pants. I started stroking him, causing his eyes to flutter close. I was still coming down from what he had done with just his fingers, but I needed his dick inside me. I looked up at him, and said something that I knew would only boost his ego, and he would probably use against me later. 

“Mr. Holmes, I need you inside me, now”. 

His eyes shot open, as I looked back at him with lust-blown eyes. My hand was still wrapped around his cock, slowly pumping him. He and his god-complex were completely enamoured with my new take of teasing him. I lined his cock at my entrance, but not before teasing him through my folds. Just that little movement caused goosebumps to erupt on my skin. As I put his tip in my entrance, he searched my eyes once more for the consent he needed. I pushed myself onto him a little, letting him know he could take me. He leaned in, pushing his length all the way into me. I let out a loud gasp, wrapping my arm around his neck once more, my other hand on his back. I was still throbbing from my previous orgasm, and I knew he could feel my warm pulse inside me. He slowly pulled out, and then quickly sheathed himself inside me again. Our pelvises were against each other and his gently movements drove me crazy. I let out a cry of ecstasy, letting my head roll back, exposing my neck. He kissed it gently, and then, lifted me off the counter and back against the wall. All I could do was struggle to remain quiet as he began quick thrusts deep into me, relentlessly hitting my sweet spot. He was open mouthed against my neck, breathing erratically as he continued to hold me up. 

“You feel, s-so g-good,” I moaned, urging him to continue. He loved it when I complimented him, he had always been that way. But to be inside me as I told him how much I loved his cock, it was heaven for him. The guttural sounds from his throat proved to me that he felt the same.

“Y/n, I’m not gonna last much longer” he said, as though it would deter me. As he began to remove himself, I grabbed his face to look at me. 

“I want you to cum inside, Detective,” I whisper, wrapping my legs tighter around him to prove my point. 

His eyes widened searching my face as I was in taking all of him, bouncing on his dick in a penthouse bathroom, loving everything he did. Seeing what he could do to me, looking into my eyes as I stifled my moans, he began to stutter inside of me. I was on the edge too, and when his hot rope of cum shooted inside of me, my own orgasm exploded, milking him of the rest of his cum. 

When we had both stilled, frozen with him still inside me, we could hear the party still going and the noise of London below us. He pulled his softening cock from me and as he did, our cum dripped down my thigh. My legs were incredibly weak, as he continued to hold me up. I reached for a hand towel to clean me up, but he beat me to it, wiping up and between my legs, careful not to cause pain from the sensitivity. He picked up my underwear that he had tossed on the ground somewhere, and helped me step back into it. I was still shaky if I bent my legs, but I knew he would hold me up. As we looked at each other, there was something new we both saw. Romance. The sexual chemistry that had been there was a response to the catalyst of romance. 

Before we could discuss the aftermath of our actions though, there was a loud banging on the door. Smoothing out my dress just past the door, Sherlock opened it to find John, arms crossed, waiting outside.   

“Are you shitting me Sherlock? You look like you just took a hit of something. Did you seriously lose Y/N at this party because you were trying to get hi…”

The door widened to reveal me, just behind Sherlock, makeup slightly down my fae, and both of our hair tousled. I smiled at John, knowing it wasn’t what he had expected. His jaw dropped, “Tha..you were,,,um...has this been long or...?” Dr. Watson stuttered. 

“No John, that was the first time and it won’t be the last” he said, grabbing my arm and pulling me past him. 

“Don’t be too jealous John,” I said with a wink. 

John didn’t know what to say except, “Are we done here?”

Sherlock and I walked arm in arm down the hallway, casting back a look at John as if to say “What do you think?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~

This was my first oneshot and was it trash? Yeah, maybe. So if you know me, no you don’t :)

Leave suggestions if you’d like, I’m writing smut I can’t find. 

[halfwaythereroyalwrites]

Long Enough (Oscar “Spooky” Diaz x Reader) Kilig One-Shot

Pairing: Oscar “Spooky” Diaz x Reader (tried to make this as gender neutral as possible)

Warnings: Fluffy not smutty like the title suggests 😅. Secondhand embarrassment from flirting. Mention of buying snacks. Play fighting. No other warnings I can think of unless your secondhand embarrassment is really bad. 

Word count: 2k+

Kilig is a Tagalog word to describe the feeling of excitement and exhilaration and possibly embarrassment from anything remotely romantic.

Masterlist

______________________________________

“Don’t you have some ‘important Santos business’ to do,” you teased, crossing your arms over your chest to reserve some warmth. 

“Nah, I thought we could go somewhere tonight,” Oscar replied, looking up at you from the driver’s seat of his red ‘63 Chevy Impala. Even from where you stood, you could smell the intoxicating scent of his cologne wafting through the air. The very cologne he knew drove you wild and therefore refused to name, no matter how many times you asked. A slight breeze blew between you, sending a chill through your body. These cold LA nights were rare, and it caught you by surprise to be caught in one when walking home from Monse’s place. 

The younger girl had asked you to have a night in with her to help take her mind off the latest drama with Cesar, and you happily obliged. Well...it was supposed to only be you and Monse. Five minutes into the night, Ruby and Jamal had shown up, eager to get in on a night of face masks, movies, and snacks. You didn’t realize how late it had been until you checked your phone and realized it was close to their curfew. After bidding Monse goodbye, you ushered Ruby and Jamal out and walked them back to their respective homes. This is how you got here now, in the middle of the street, talking to the big, bad leader of the Santos, Oscar Diaz. 

Better known as Spooky. 

“Where exactly are we going?” you asked, “There’s not much open right now.” 

“Just get in the car. I thought you liked mystery and shit,” Oscar quipped, his signature smirk on his full lips. Your eyes narrowed at his answer, wondering what Oscar had in mind. Your time with Oscar consisted of movie nights at his place with tension so thick, you can cut through it with a knife. This was new and unexpected, and you weren’t sure if the fluttering feeling in your chest was a good thing or a bad thing yet. “Come on. I know your ass is freezing out here.” 

You let out a dramatic sigh and walked over to the passenger’s side, mumbling loud enough for him to hear, “you’re lucky I’m fucking freezing out here...with your mysterious ass.” The passenger’s door was pushed open from the inside by Oscar, and you quickly ducked in and shut the door. Oscar shut the windows on his side, and you quickly did the same with your window, shutting out the air from further freezing you. He thankfully blasted the heater, and you wasted no time in adjusting the heaters to point directly at you, thawing the LA cold out of your body. “Why do you always drive with all your windows down? It’s so cold! See, feel!” Without warning, you grasped Oscar’s forearm with your cold, clammy hands. 

Oscar sucked air in through his teeth at your sudden intrusion but did not make a move to pry your hands away, “Fuck, you’re cold!” 

“See?! Ugh this is Southern California. We should never be this cold.” You retracted your hands away from him, realizing you were still holding on to his arm.

He smirked at the sight of you placing your face inches away from the nearest heater, the heater blowing your hair back, before shrugging, “I don’t know. I can warm you up if you want.” His voice became lower with every word he said, and you took notice of his raised eyebrow directed at you. 

You cleared your throat, which has suddenly become dry, before saying, “Can we please get something hot to drink before we go?” 

Oscar kissed his teeth before breaking out into a wide smile, making you forget the need to breathe for the briefest moment “Sure, buckle in.” 

“Ugh thank you!” You reached around and buckled yourself into your seat and proceeded to lean closer to the heaters. The car was silent as he steered one-handed through the dimly lit streets of Freeridge. There weren’t many people out, and the only sounds to be heard were the blasting heaters and the low rumble of the engine. You took a deep breath in and leaned back into the seat before asking, “So where are we going?” 

“I told you it was a surprise.” Another silence ensued as you turned your head to look at the Santos leader, who was looking straight ahead at the road, his face void of any expression.

“...but can I get a hint of where we’re going?” 

“No.” 

“...if we’re having a movie night, you could have just texted.” 

“It’s not a movie night.” 

“You haven’t texted me in the past few days,” you whispered. “That’s not like you.” 

“I had to figure some shit out. I’m here now, aren’t I?” His response made you press your lips together and look out your window, crossing your arms once more. You could feel the heat of Oscar’s gaze intermittently focusing on you, burning the side of your head. The rush of heat going to your ears was accompanied by the audible thumping in your chest. You leaned your body against the passenger’s side door as much as you could and started contemplating words to say when Oscar’s hand gripped your left thigh. “Hey. Hey look at me.” You continued to stare out the window. “Hey, I’m sorry alright? Things got real tense with the Prophet$, and I had to sort shit out. I forgot to text you. I’m sorry.” You turned to meet his gaze, and it seemed all your anger had melted away with just a look into his dark eyes. 

“Thank you. I was worried about you, and no one knew where you went, so I thought...something had happened to you,” you begrudgingly admitted, hyper-aware of the fact that Oscar’s hand on your thigh set a warm fire throughout your body. You wanted to throw up. Or hold his hand. Maybe. This...this...pounding in your chest. The sudden rush of warmth in your ears. The hairs on your arm standing up. Cold and hot at the same time with heat slowly crawling from your neck to your cheeks. What is this?! 

“You don’t gotta worry about me,” Oscar’s voice broke through your storming internal monologue. Did his voice get deeper somehow? “I’ll always come back for you, babe,” he chuckled. 

“Ok that’s...not necessary,” you made a weak attempt to push Oscar’s hand away as your cheeks burned in embarrassment over his new nickname for you. Oscar only squeezed your thigh in return and kept his hand exactly where it was. You watched him skillfully steer one-handed into the parking lot of the nearest corner store and turn the engine off. The still silence prompted you to turn your head to the handsome man seated next to you, only to find him already turned to you. 

“What are you looking at?” You saw Oscar’s devastatingly dark eyes flit back and forth, holding your gaze as if reading your eyes could give a hint of the storm currently occurring in your mind. Oscar let out a chuckle before squeezing your thigh and giving it a light slap. 

“Let’s grab snacks too. I’m hungry.” He let go of your thigh and exited the Impala, leaving you in a daze. Your hand instinctively covered the area on your thigh that his hand previously occupied, lightly feeling the remnants of his warm touch. Shaking your head at your actions, you unbuckled your seatbelt and reached for the car door, only for the handle to be pulled away from your reach by Oscar, who had pulled the door open for you. You muttered a low thanks, eyebrows furrowed at the Santos leader. He locked the car before walking ahead of you and opening the front door of the corner store, holding it open for you to walk in, You glanced at him suspiciously before thanking him again and walking into the store, taking note of the slight brush of his hand against your hip. You made a beeline for the hot drink station at the back of the store, clasping your hands together and slightly shivering as you shuffled over. Oscar was not far behind you, acting as your taller shadow, his breath slightly fanning over your neck as he looked over your shoulder. You swallowed the knot forming in your throat and kept it suppressed by making small talk. When it came time to pay for your snacks, Oscar had pulled out a wad of bills faster than you could grab the card out of your wallet. He grabbed the snacks as you told him a halfhearted promise to pay him back. 

“Don’t worry about it. I gotchu,” he smiled, placing his hand on your waist and ushering you out the door. His cologne has taken over all your senses now, and the wires of your brain were beginning to short circuit. You found it hard to even think outside of this time with him. You found yourself taking notice of all the small ways he was currently driving you insane. 

Like the way he still kept a hold on your thigh as he drove. 

And how he told you about how he had watched the food show you had recommended on Netflix. 

And how he asked you to feed him a gummy worm and you felt the faint touch of his lips as you placed one in his mouth. 

He also told you to reply to a text from Sad Eyes on his behalf, telling him that he can’t hang out right now. 

And with every laugh and every smile, he would squeeze your thigh which would send a jolt of endorphins through your body.

Before long, the winding road Oscar was driving up on ended on a flat lookout. There were only two other cars there, considerably distanced from the two of you. Oscar had parked the car to where the trunk was facing the twinkling lights of Freeridge down below. Without saying a word, he got out of the car and popped the trunk open, where he pulled out a large blanket, big enough to fit the two of you. You got out of the car, clutching your drink, snacks in the other hand, and let a cheesing smile make its way onto your face. 

“What is this?” you asked Oscar who was now looking at you expectedly. 

“I thought we could just chill for tonight. See the stars and shit,” he gestured upwards to the dark sky. You giggled at the lack of stars in the sky. Typical for Los Angeles. You handed your drink to Oscar who took it without question. 

“May I?” you asked, looking between him and the trunk of his car. Oscar nodded, and you jumped up on the top of his trunk, and he followed suit, wrapping both you and him in the blanket. You rested your weight against him, placing your head on his shoulder. A comfortable silence settled between the two of you as you looked at the yellow lights of the city below. “Why did you actually bring me here?” 

“...I wanted to ask you something.” You slowly raised your head off his shoulder, and looked at him, his face laced with an emotion you couldn’t quite pinpoint. 

“What is it?” you whispered. 

Oscar cleared his throat before focusing his dark gaze on you. “We’ve been hanging out for a while, and I thought...that maybe...we could give this a real shot.” 

You grinned. “Oscar Diaz. Are you asking me to go steady with you?” 

Oscar kissed his teeth at your teasing grin. “Come on, I’m being serious!” 

“So am I! Are you asking me to be in a relationship or to be exclusive? They’re sort of different nowadays.”

“The first part.” 

“...I need to hear you say it.” 

Oscar gazed at you before cupping your face in his hand, his thumb gently rubbing your cheek. He whispered your name before asking, “will you be in a relationship with me?” You blinked at him a couple times before your hand came to meet his hand that was still caressing your face. You held his wrist and kissed the inside of his palm. 

“...what’s the magic word?” 

Oscar rolled his eyes at you before whispering, “please?”

You smiled before nodding, a little too enthusiastically. Oscar shook his head at you before returning your smile with a bright one of his own. “Ok now hold me,” you demanded, flinging his hand away from your cheek to go around your shoulder. You snuggled into the warmth of his body as he drew you closer and placed a kiss to your temple. “Took you long enough to ask me,” you whispered.  

“What?” 

“Nothing.”

______________________________________

A/N: I have finally broken my writer’s block. There’s quite a few life changes and obstacles I’m going through, and finally being able to finish a fic was so satisfying. Let me know what you think and if you want to be added to my taglist! 

General: @peppermintvanillaa @fantasticcopeaglepasta @panda-angela

Kilig taglist: @multifandomlife22 @thottiewinemom @princeabomination @svetlana-beilschmidt

[shakey-hands]

please please can we get fukuzawa awkwardly having to tell ranpo he’s dating reader and the two of them start fighting and reader is subjected to it??? 😍😍

haha yeah. first ask that imma answer, let me know if you guys want more. my asks are open for any (except mineta gross) mha, ouran, or bungo characters :)

{this one is gonna be done with she/her pronouns but if you ask for gender neutral or he/him or any other pronouns, i can do it}

---

The clock struck two when Y/N looked at her phone, leg bouncing up and down in a way that always annoyed the people around her. Great. It was thirty minutes past their meeting time and her boyfriend still had not shown up with what she understood was his adopted son.

It had been a good plan. Meet on neutral territory, gas up (what Y/N assumed was) a teenage boy with a sweets addiction, and then break the news. Y/N was not sure why they needed to go through such lengthy troubles to inform her boyfriend’s son that they were dating. He was at least old enough to understand what dating was. And from what she had heard from Kunikida, Fukuzawa’s son had a very prominent dating life of his own. But Y/N trusted her boyfriend, no matter how many times he looked off into the distance with quiet wisdom that felt vague.

Y/N sipped her tea, realizing that caffeine would only worsen her anxiety. It didn’t matter how many times Fukuzawa and Kunikida tried to tell her that the meeting wouldn’t be a big deal and that the son would love her, she wasn’t so sure. He was working at the Armed Detective Agency and was good at what he did. At least those were Kunikida’s words as Y/N and him were quietly reading in the same room as they did on Saturday nights. While Y/N appreciated Kunikida for his straight forward/driven personality, he did not fare well in comforting her.

Which brought her to her boyfriend. His solid, piercing eyes would always soften as she talked about her day over their dinner dates and he would brush the back of his hand on her cheek in the moments they were alone with one another. While Y/N rarely noticed because she herself was too infatuated with him, Fukuzawa cared deeply for her after seven months of dating. Their last hurdle was introducing Y/N to Ranpo. Fukuzawa was not at all worried since Y/N had a knack for making sweets and made people feel as if they were special when she smiled at them. There was never a shortage of praise around her.

Y/N checked her phone again, hoping that an apology text would come through and she would not be left in the dark. That however was proving difficult. Fukuzawa was driving with Ranpo eating cotton candy in the passenger seat. He had to be bribed away from the sweets table Dazai had set up for some ungodly known reason to mess with Atsushi. It was embarrassing how long it took for Kunikida to pry Ranpo’s little grubby hands away from the snacks and then another amount of time for Fukuzawa to get Ranpo to put on his seatbelt.

It made Fukuzawa nervous that he was so late. He knew Y/N would be understanding, it was part of the reason he enjoyed her company so much. Knowing her, she would probably be bouncing her knee and staring down at the table, overthinking things. He, of course, was right.

As Fukuzawa was pulling into the parking lot, he spotted his girlfriend’s car. It was pristine, as always, and had a small cat paw sticker on the back left bumper. He smiled inwardly, realizing that he had been waiting for this. There was a future with Y/N and Fukuzawa couldn’t wait.

Ranpo still had yet to get out of the car, his glasses dangling from his shirt pocket and a light dusting of sugar crystals on his lips. He was pouting, of course. Kunikida did not pack enough snacks for the car ride, meaning Ranpo did not have the mental energy to get out of the car and go into whatever flop coffee shop the president insisted they go into. People were so stupid and Ranpo already just finished a case that was so obvious. The local police really needed to be more useful.

“Get out of the car,” Fukuzawa said, getting more and more agitated.

“No,” Ranpo said.

“Let’s go. I promise there will be sweets inside the shop.”

“So? There were sweets at the agency.”

Fukuzawa rolled his eyes, knowing Ranpo would sit in the car out of stubbornness. “Ranpo-”

“Yukichi?” A soft voice called out from the entrance of the cafe.

Fukuzawa turned to see Y/N standing right outside. She had a to-go cup of something hot in her hands, jacket sleeves pulled over her hands to stop the warmth from burning her skin. Even though it was overcast and windy, Y/N still seemed to have a certain glow about her that always took Fukuzawa’s breath away. She waved timidly, not knowing why he was awkwardly standing behind his parked car with a weird defensive stance. He nodded over to her, giving her a genuine smile before turning his head back to the car and glaring.

“Is everything okay?”

Y/N began to approach her boyfriend. The only other time she had seen her boyfriend have this stance was when she had bumped into some eyebrowless pale emo kid in an accident at the mall. Fukuzawa seemed to pick the weird fights, but she just smiled through it. His eyes held a certain annoyance the Y/N had not seen before. Her eyebrows furrowed as she took a step off the curb. Fukuzawa held out his hand, motioning her to not get closer. Y/N paused, unsure about his demeanor.

“Ranpo, don’t make me ask again.” Fukuzawa’s voice held a bass to it that Y/N had never heard before. She could only assume it was his dad voice that he has never had to use with her.

The window rolled down on the old car for just a crack. “I don’t remember a question being asked.”

The voice was whiny and slightly muffled, as if the speaker had sweets in his mouth. Fukuzawa rolled his eyes and put his hand on the glass. Y/N was slightly shocked by her boyfriend, but decided to let him do his thing. She was not a parent and the closest time she had ever been was when she had a babysitting gig decades ago when she was a teen. While she was interested in a family, she had neither the time nor mental capacity to follow through. So she stepped back onto the curb and took a sip of her tea, relishing in the warmth it provided.

“Ranpo, if you don’t get out of the damned car, there will be no sweets at the agency for a year.”

A clear threat had been made.

The door slammed into the car next to it, causing a dent that Fukuzawa watched form. Out from the passenger seat, a short man with a slight pout crawled out of the car. Definitely not the young teenager Y/N had been expecting. He was only slightly taller than Y/N and wore a cape. In fact, he looked like a full grown adult, maybe only ten years younger than Y/N. Her face said it all, though neither men were looking at her. They just stared one another down before Fukuzawa remembered his loving girlfriend stood awkwardly behind him. He motioned for her to come over.

Ranpo did not look impressed as he looked her up and down. Y/N looked too ordinary to know Fukuzawa in her jeans and plain jacket combo. Her shoes were dirty from all the yard work she had done throughout the years. As she got closer, Ranpo watched closely as Fukuzawa gently touched the small of her back before wrapping his arm around her waist. While Ranpo had never seen the President act like this, he did not care.

“Ranpo, I would like you to meet-”

Ranpo yawned loudly. “She’s way too old for me. Almost to hag status.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. She began to stumble over her words, not knowing how to respond. Fukuzawa’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. He couldn’t believe that Ranpo would even think he was trying to set them up. Ranpo made a disgusted face.

“No offense lady, but you don’t even look fun. Like all you do is sit in the dark and contemplate the excitement of frostingless yellow cake.”

How do you respond to that?

Y/N looked down, not sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. She was suddenly thankful for the sudden gust of wind that burned her cheeks, a sign that snow was rolling in. Who insults like that? The little sniffle that Y/N let out set Fukuzawa back into the present instead of the daydream he had slipped into where Ranpo got his ass beat.

“You can’t talk to her like that,” Fukuzawa said sternly. “And she’s not here for you.”

“Obviously. She could never handle the Greatest Detective.”

“No!” Fukuzawa said, tightening his grip on her waist. “I wanted you two to meet because we’ve been dating for a while and I thought it was finally time for you two to meet.”

Ranpo suddenly scoffed dramatically. Once. Twice. Three times. “And here I thought we agreed never to keep secrets! And all this time you’ve been giving your praise to someone else!”

Fukuzawa looked at the small man incredulously. “I’m allowed to date, Ranpo.”

“Not really!” Ranpo exclaimed, throwing his hands up into the air. Those who were passing by continuously glanced, wondering why they were arguing so loudly in a public space. “How gross is that! You’re like centuries old!”

“Look, I just thought you’d want to be in the know. If I had known you’d throw a tantrum, I would have just waited until after we were married.”

In that moment, Ranpo and Y/N spoke simultaneously:

“Tantrum?!”

“Married!?”

“Oh I’ll show you a tantrum!”

Ranpo pushed the old car to make it move back and forth in its parked place before beginning to punch the glass. There was no real power behind his throws, so there were soft thumps being emitted. Next he started to kick the tires, also without power behind his movements. He truly had transformed into a toddler, making the people walking by walk a little faster. He came off as some random crazy person on the street rather than an acclaimed detective.

Fukuzawa didn’t know where to look until a warm soft hand held his cheek, guiding his eyes towards Y/N’s. She smiled softly, ignoring Ranpo as he began to get physical. Her smile caused a chain reaction in Fukuzawa’s heart, making him resist the urge to get down on one knee at that very instance. He did have the ring adding weight to his pocket. She kissed his forehead, making him awkwardly bend down as she chuckled against his skin.

“You want to marry me?”

Fukuzawa blushed slightly. “In due time, of course.”

She chuckled again and nodded. “Of course.”

“I’m not calling her mom!”

[get-shiggy-with-it]

Scream Therapy

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x gender neutral!reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: extremely vague allusions to mental illness, metaphors about wounds, angst with a relieving ending, let me know if i’ve missed something

AO3 mirror

So you know those tiktoks where people go out into the woods and scream? Just like expel all the shit that’s been holding them down into an open field and let the earth reclaim all their dark, restless energy? Reveal the burdens that have been creaking in their joints and trapped in the prison of their ribs for the trees to swallow?

I’ve been thinking about that and Shigaraki a lot. 

Like the rest of the league too, but mostly Shigs. 

Just imagine: 

It’s late, it always is when shit is going down at the hideout. The League of Villains is practically nocturnal at this point. Shigaraki’s mind is a loud place—lot’s of rabid, train tearing down the track lines of thought that clatter and roar and gush toxic coal smoke.

So as annoyed as he makes himself out to be, he doesn’t actually mind the din of the bar all that much. Twice and Toga chattering in the corner, random bits of too loud laughter and the clink of Kurogiri polishing glasses as he tells off Dabi for the umpteenth time about smoking inside—hell, even Compress rambling about the health benefits of high quality wine to nobody in particular is somewhat...comforting?

That’s not quite the right word, but their noise settles around him a bit like a thick quilt and dampens the rampage inside his head for a while.

He thinks about a lot of things.

Some good, most bad, all obsessive. He’ll get stuck in these loops sometimes, small questions evolve into bigger, more complicated webs, and suddenly it’s been four hours and he’s done nothing but stare at the same spot on the wall just left of his desktop monitor.

Sleep is a terrifying venture for much the same reason. Once he gets caught in that cycling it’s so hard to break out, and that’s when he’ll stumble down the stairs and sequester himself away at the end of the bar.

There he will sit and listen to the incessant white noise of his team—which is frustrating too but infinitely better than whatever anxiety coated sludge his brain will come up with if left to its own devices, so he bears it.

And then there’s you.

Who you are isn’t entirely important.

Maybe you’re just another member of the League, dedicated to helping your boss spread villainy across the city. Maybe you’re a morally ambiguous civilian who just stumbled in much like a stray cat into a depressed college student’s apartment and simply never left.

Whatever the circumstances, where you came from doesn’t matter.

To him, your contributions to the din are just another layer of insulation against the storm. He couldn’t really care less what you do, or where you go when you weren’t there. As long as your voice could offer a different type of grating against his ears than the silent throbbing of his head when he is alone, then your presence is justified.

Shigaraki only takes notice of you when you leave, when your voice is no longer adding to the uproar drowning out whatever new thought spiral he was trying to claw his way out of.

It’s very late then. That odd, in between time when it’s closer to the sunrise than to it’s setting but somehow also the darkest portion of the night. Of course, it’s never totally dark—not with all the light pollution laying an ever present, glowing haze across the horizon—but it’s as close as it gets out here to pitch black.

He catches the tail end of your coat, a glimpse of your shoe soles as you slip up the stairs and climb the wrought iron ladder that leads to the roof. Shigaraki often catches himself wondering how you figured out exactly how to avoid each board that creaked. He thinks sometimes it’s because you like going unnoticed, that too much attention makes you feel just as shaky as he gets when he’s been inside his head too long. Or possibly you just don’t want to wake anyone up in the rare moments that some League members are actually asleep.

Regardless, he watches you go and feels strangely...compelled to follow and because he rarely feels compelled to do anything unless it’s furthering the downfall of hero society, he does.

He takes an unsteady step, then another until the brisk, cusp-of-summer air is washing over him. It bites through his thin black top and the worn holes in his jeans, but the sting feel likes something.

And since he almost always feels nothing at all, it’s good.

You’re stood a few feet from the edge of the building, where the ledge has begun to crumble away from age and poor maintenance. The wind is strong enough that it makes your limp arms sway by your sides. Shigaraki is so thin now, he’s almost afraid for a moment it might blow him away. He’s found himself feeling so insubstantial as of late, it’s shocking when his feet don’t lift off from the roof entirely. He crosses the distance towards you slowly. 

If you hear him approaching, you don’t show it.

Normally he wouldn’t start a conversation of his own volition but he did follow you up here and the silence is getting a bit deafening, even with the breeze.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

It’s simple, but it’s all he can think to say. Funny, with how many words that run through his head, he can never find the right ones when he wants them.

You turn then, and your face is...well it’s a face. He tends not to look at people’s faces much—doesn’t want to see their expressions when they look at him, but from what he can tell you aren’t upset that he’s here at least.

“I love the city at night.”

That’s all you offer in response and he knows somehow that you’ll keep talking even if he doesn’t answer. That you know how much he hates the quiet but can’t ever fill it himself.

“When you’re up high enough, you can pretend the streetlights are stars,” you divulge, as if it’s some sort of great, long kept secret.

Maybe it is.

Maybe you have a lot of secrets. You seem to him like the type of person who would. Who keeps life changing truths tucked under your tongue to drop suddenly over convenience store dinners and cheap beer.

He thinks that maybe he’d like to know them.

“It’s always so alive during the day, the streets I mean,” you continue, eyes trained out on the buildings below, tracing constellations from block to block. “But I can’t shake the feeling that it’s rotting too like….”

You trail off and don’t finish the thought, but you don’t have to. He knows what you mean: like the city is a wound that’s festering. That all the people and the heroes that corral them like cattle are just an infection waiting to spread.

“What are you doing here?” he asks again, because he hasn’t been able to come up with anything else.

Your gaze flits over his face this time, and Shigaraki almost misses the small smile that plays at your lips. He’s close enough now that you could touch him, and you almost do, shoulders just inches away from brushing. But you don’t close the gap.

You touch the others, a lot actually, though he gets the sense you’re the type to ask first. And with his mind running on overdrive every waking second, he gets overstimulated easily. He should probably be thankful you aren’t as familiar with him. That you bother to notice the distance he keeps even when he rarely pays you any mind.

Maybe you’re thankful for that too.

“You know, scream therapy is a very effective and cheap alternative to professional intervention,” you say matter of factly in response.

He waits for you to continue and you do.

“There’s no one out this late but heroes on patrols and they won’t come to help us, so this is a perfect opportunity to give it a try.”

He can feel his brow knitting together and you raise your hand for a second as if to smooth your thumb over the wrinkled skin. Shigaraki doesn’t move, but watches your fingers pause in mid motion and drop back down.

There’s a strange charge in the air between you—a spark he distantly wishes would ignite if only so he could stop churning in his gut.

“How do you do it?”

He’s never asked so many questions of anyone in his life. But he finds he truly wants to know.

And you’re the one that can show him.

You breathe deeply beside him, letting your eyes drift shut and taking a step towards the ledge. With hands balled into righteous little fists, you bend a bit at the waist and you...scream.

Shigaraki isn’t quite sure what he’d expected, but for some reason it wasn’t that.

He’s heard shouts before, cries for help or out of fear, but nothing like this. The sound seems to bubble up from some deep, dank pit inside you and bursts forth from your mouth like a geyser spewing boiling water from the earth. It’s long and low and loudloudloud. It isn’t a sound he could ever imagine you making, but it rumbles in his chest as if it’s his own.

Just watching has a weight lifting from his shoulders.

You keep going even when he knows you should have run out of air. But you aren’t really making the noise, you’re just letting it escape. He’s not sure how he knows that but he does.

Your voice cracks and snaps and rages forth and you scream in a way he feels in his very bones. The garbled, awful sound is so clearly understandable despite the wind that carries it away.

It says: I am free and young and can feel none of it.

And then it’s words. Words that tumble from you in a torrent.

About your family, about what’s been done to you, what you’ve done to yourself.

About the lies and the injustice of it all.

You’re heaving by the end, deflated as though all the screams had left behind an empty space—an abscess drained and ready to heal over or fill back up.

“It’s your turn.”

Shigaraki stares at you, silhouetted by the dull, silver glow of the city and panting. You both look at each other for a moment, reveling in the odd connection that sometimes forms between strangers who know far too much about each other.

He doesn’t think he could top that, but the energy you’ve created is invigorating and he’s determined to ride the wave while he has it.

Taking a step, he joins you by the ledge again, and you back up as if allowing him into the spotlight. The wind will swallow whatever he says, it will eat the words like a starving behemoth and he finds himself ready to feed the beast.

He has to dig deep, scratch at old sores to make them bleed again, tear at scabs so he can let the contaminating thoughts leak out. Once he feels like he’s breached far enough, Shigaraki takes a breath.

And he screams.

His body doubles over with the strength of it, foot slamming down onto the roofing and four fingers fisted in the hem of his shirt.

It hurts coming out, rips at his vocal chords and has his throat raw to bleeding after just the first few seconds but he pushes past it.

He wonders if this is what a runner's high feels like, when you’ve pushed beyond the side stitches and knee aches and your blood finally rushes with all those elusive feel good chemicals he never has enough of.

Whatever it is, the feeling is addicting.

Shigaraki is dimly aware of you in his peripheral, encouraging the tsunami thoughts in his head to be thrust out into the uncaring arms of the city skyline.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t have to search for the words. They simply come. All his frustrations, some he wasn’t even conscious of, spill fresh and steaming like blood. Physically, his body remains but somewhere in the depths of his mind he is younger and hurt and alone and trying desperately to scream.

“I destroy everything I touch!” he roars at the apathetic, grey sidewalk below.

After the last word leaves him, he feels the same weightlessness he’d seen in the sag of your shoulders. The same snapping of the coil slack in his spine.

And suddenly, with this glorious, awful sense of revelation, Shigaraki realizes that everything in his head has gone quiet.

He’s over taken by a silence that requires no filling, a peace that he’d imagined only existed at the bottom of abandoned wells, far away from any chubby child’s hands that may toss foolish wishes down them.

He thinks about kissing you then.

And he knows now that this thought has always been there, but it was drowned like a subway rat in the aftermath of the hurricane brewing in his brainstem. He has always noticed you no matter how hard you try to blend into the background. Your voice has always been a bit better at shutting out the unending, worthless choir in his head.

He wouldn’t have followed anyone else up here—not Dabi, not Spinner, not Compress or even Kurogiri.

He can see that now. In this new enlightened state, everything is so much clearer. Though he is quickly thrust back into the present, into his body once again, as another kind of soft weight settles on his shoulders. Your coat is skin warmed and smells like you and everything he’s ever loved in his own screwy little way. He realizes then that you’ve been trying to talk to him this whole time.

“Shigs,” you call again and tuck the coat tighter around his shoulders, “you were shaking.”

Shigaraki nods, feeling relief from the cold he hadn’t quite been aware of till now. He’s not sure if you’ve ever addressed him so informally before, but he decides he likes the nickname.

It feels a bit like a gift.

“Better, yeah?”

He’s not really sure if it’s better, but it is different and it’s been impossibly long since anything has been different, so he thinks it must be good.

“Yes,” he says.

It’s a general yes, both to your question and to you, whatever that might mean. He doesn’t say anything more because he’s done enough talking and you nod like you understand.

Neither of you moves to leave the roof, but you do inch closer to him this time, closing the gap and tucking him into your side. Your arm is slung gently across his shoulders and he finds the weight of it relieving.

That seems like it shouldn’t make since but it does—a paradox of sorts, weight being a comfort.

Then the sun begins to rise and it’s as if he’s seeing you in a new light.

Your profile outlined by the stark daybreak rays, so horribly strong despite the scream he knows is forming again under the surface.

And Shigaraki wonders if you see him that way too.

[writer-ish]

in the lambent light

pairing: mason x detective (grace bennett) word count: 2.4K words | rating: T (language)

summary: On the rooftop of the Warehouse, Grace and Mason have an honest conversation about sexuality, small towns, and love (sort of), with the revelry and light of Unit Bravo’s first Wayhaven Pride in the background.

For Week 1, Day 1 of @wayhavensummer: First Pride + #wsfchallenge “belonging”.

*

She finds him on the roof of the warehouse, of course, kicking his feet idly as they dangle over the edge, a thin wisp of smoke coming up steadily from his cigarette.

When he sees her, he puts it out and links his fingers together, eyes following her as she comes to sit beside him.

They're high up – too high; if she looks down she feels a bit dizzy – and he grunts, his eyes narrowing as she dangles her legs, too. She looks at her colourful socks - one purple, one pink - as she tries not to think about how steep the drop would be if she lost her balance or even just shuffled forward a bit.

She wonders if maybe he'll put his hand out to hold her steady, or force her to sit back.

(He does neither.)

"You don't have to do that, you know." She gestures belatedly to the ash of his crumpled cigarette still smoking lightly on the concrete. "I know I gave you a hard time before, but really, I don't want you to stop on account of me."

He shrugs. "It's fine. I don't even know why I still do it when I don’t even really need it anymore. Habit, I guess."

She opens her mouth to insist, say how she doesn't want him, doesn't need him to change for her – but her mouth clicks shut instead. It's easier to let it slide. To not delve too deeply into why he doesn't need it anymore.

They sit in silence for a bit, the evening breeze settling on them.

The sounds of revelry in the town square continue. Grace can hear the celebrations, the music, can feel the general aura of happiness radiating from below.

When she’d left to seek out Mason, Tina had been painting a rainbow on Adam’s sharp cheekbone as he sat very still, giving the situation a gravitas that it perhaps didn’t deserve, but was still heartwarming to see nonetheless.

Eric and Verda had been watching indulgently as their girls got spoiled with treats provided by Nate, who had been doing his very best to succeed at the task of “enjoying his first Pride”.

(When he’d asked if he was “doing it right”, Grace couldn’t help but give him an impromptu hug.

“You’re doing perfectly,” she’d said warmly and he had smiled down at her, eyes sparkling.)

Felix, for his part, had been bouncing around, examining the stalls set up to highlight the queer-owned business in Wayhaven, coming back to hand Nate a new trinket or snack or pin he’d purchased, and then bounding off again, the excitement practically vibrating off of him.

She smiles wistfully at the memory of how the town embraced Unit Bravo as their own, as she regards it all from a distance now, a bloom of warmth in her chest – a collection of the happiness and pride that she feels towards her little town for coming together in this way year after year. To celebrate its people; the people who make Wayhaven what it is.

To celebrate love.

She turns to Mason, spontaneously dropping a hand to his knee. He looks down swiftly and then back up at her, silver-grey eyes meeting her own.

"Was it all too much for you?" She nods in the direction of light, laughter, colour, and music. "Down there?"

He shrugs. "I respect the idea behind the celebration and I'm glad the others are happy and having fun. But yeah. It's not really my thing."

She nods slowly, going quiet again. He idly begins to play with her fingers, splayed out on his thigh. Tracing them with his own, up and down.

"You know it's not—"

"You know that we—"

They both go to speak at the same time, their voices stuttering to a stop as they realize.

"You go," Mason says eventually, the side of his lips quirked up in a small smirk. "You do most of the talking for us anyway."

"Hey!" Grace squeaks out indignantly. "I do not. Most people say I don't talk enough."

Mason snorts. "People who don't know you, maybe."

Her cheeks grow warm with pleasure at the unspoken confirmation. It feels like what he really said was: "People who don't know you the way I do."

And he's right.

"I was just going to say, Wayhaven has been doing this for years now. Decades even. We used to come when I was a kid.” She laughs in reminiscence. “There’s this picture of me – maybe eighteen months old or something – on Rook’s shoulders, watching the parade as my mom smiles up at us both.”

She feels her own smile go soft, like the edges of that faded cherished photograph. She shakes her head to clear the cobwebs of nostalgia before turning to him again. He’s regarding her in a way that can only be construed as fondness and her heart twists, ever so slightly.

“I’m glad you guys got to be here for your first Pride,” she continues, steering the conversation back to the present. To safer territory. “You hear all these things about the intolerance of small towns, and lord knows it’s true in some cases, but I dunno." She shrugs, a small smile gracing her lips once more. "It feels nice to be part of one of the good ones."

He's quiet and she turns to look at him after a moment of prolonged silence. He's still staring at her, this time a more inscrutable expression on his face. She can't tell what's going through his mind, whether it's concern or agreement or even anger. His fingers have stilled overtop hers and his large palm rests on her hand, warm and steady.

It takes another beat before he clears his throat and breaks eye contact, moving his hand off of hers. The cool air rushes to the spot where his hand used to be and she finds herself missing its warmth and comfort.

"It's true," he says finally. "It is one of the good ones." He looks at her carefully. "And you’re right. They aren't all like that."

There’s a wealth of meaning in his simple statement and it’s her turn to stare at him now, processing his words and trying to formulate an appropriate response.

"Have you…" She hesitates, trying to parse her words carefully. "Have you experienced… bad ones?"

He lets out a sigh. The very human sound, probably borne from a habit he could never quite kick, sends a tender pang straight to her heart.

"Listen, sweetheart." He leans back and looks up at the quickly dimming sky, the summer heat dwindling to a more tolerable mildness, the breeze picking up slightly and bringing with it the sweet scent of the magnolias below them. "It's no secret that I am not what people would call…"

He smirks and shoots her a side-long glance, his mischievous look belied by the glint of a single fang. "Discerning."

She stays quiet, waiting for him to continue.

“I’ve never seen value in—” He pauses, appearing to search for the right word. “—In curbing my desires to fit into a certain mold. I like what I like, I like who I like, and no real external factors – like gender or appearance or the shape of your tits or your bits – have ever really come into play.” He shrugs and pulls a cigarette out of his shirt pocket, fiddling with it without lighting it. “Some people have a problem with that and some places like to make it known more than others.”

Something about his final sentence causes her pulse to quicken, her thoughts jangling in her head. She tries to gather them up before she speaks.

“Do you think…” She hesitates. “Do you somehow think that I… have a problem with that? That I don’t understand?”

“Do you understand?” He looks straight at her then, his eyes sharp and intense. Not intimidating or cruel, but as though he’s looking for something – perhaps the honest answer to a question he’s not sure he’s even asked properly.

“I mean—” She feels indignant slightly, even though she tries to tamp it down. “If you think I somehow have an opinion on who people love and the circumstances around that, then I feel like maybe you don’t know me that well.”

“Whoa, whoa.” He holds his hands up, unlit cigarette still between two fingers, lip curling slightly. “Who said anything about love? I’m talking about who I decide to fuck.”

That one stings. She purses her lips and looks away, trying not to let him see just how much, inhaling deeply as she tries to get her feelings under control.

“Yes, yes,” she says finally, looking away with a wave of her hand. “Fuck, love, whatever.” She turns to him again, eyes narrowed. “I might not understand in the way that you do, through lived experience, but I care enough to try. And I certainly don’t judge.”

“I never said you judged, Gracie.” His voice is soft and the way he says her nickname – so rare from his lips – makes her breath catch in her throat. He flicks the cigarette between his fingers now, back and forth. “I just want everything to be out there between you and me. So that there’s never any—” He hesitates. “—Surprises.”

“Oh, you mean like finding out you’re a centuries-old vampire?” she quips, raising an eyebrow at him, arms crossed.

He barks out a laugh. “Watch who you’re calling centuries old, sweetheart.”

She chuckles along with him, before getting serious once more.

“The least surprising thing about you, Mason, is the fact that you have no qualms about who you choose to be with. I’ve never met a more accepting and open person.” He looks like he’s about to argue with her, so she holds up a hand to stop him. “And just because we aren’t—exactly the same, in that regard—” She looks down, feeling her cheeks warm slightly. “—Doesn’t mean I don’t get it. Or respect it.” She shrugs, laughing self-deprecatingly. “I find it hard to believe you’re interested in my boring ass, to be honest.”

“Your ass is the least boring thing about you, Detective.” For that comment, he’s rewarded with a light whack on the leg. He laughs and wraps his arm around her. “C’mere.”

Putting the cigarette behind his ear, he tugs her closer. He holds her tightly against him, thighs touching and feet brushing against each other.

“I’m going to say something cheesy as fuck and you’re going to listen. And then you’re never going to repeat it again. Got it?”

She nods quickly, eyes widening in anticipation.

“I see people—not for what they look like or any of that shit, but for what’s in here.” He taps gently, right above her left breast. “Yeah, I don’t get mixed up in all that love stuff, and attraction does play a big role in who I seek out and why, but it’s not an attraction to physical things. I just get this—sense of who a person is, I guess. And if I like what I sense, I follow through. If I don’t, I move on.” He gives her a squeeze. “You understand?”

She bites her lip, breath growing shallow as the impact of his words infiltrates her blood stream and causes her heart to flutter painfully.

He smiles slowly, a cheshire grin, and she curses his ability to hear the increase in her pulse.

“And guess what, sweetheart?” His voice has dropped an octave now, mouth close to her ear.

“What?” It comes out as a hoarse whisper.

“I like what you’ve got in here.” Another tap, same spot. “And I’m not ready to move on.”

As far as grand romantic statements go, Grace knows this one won’t make anyone’s top ten list. But for Mason, it’s a lot. And for her, for right now—it’s everything.

She leans forward and kisses him softly, sweetly, on the lips. His hand comes up to cup her cheek, but neither makes a move to deepen the kiss in any way, keeping it gentle and close-mouthed; an affirmation rather than the initiation of anything more. Pulling away, she looks at him, feeling the softness she sees in his face reflected in her own.

Giving him one more brief kiss, she scooches back and stands up carefully, dusting off the bottom of her blue shorts.

She catches him watching the action intently and he catches her catching him. They share a smirk that turns into a laugh and it feels comfortable and fun. It feels like an inside joke.

Like belonging.

“Let’s go, hot shot.” She holds out her hand to him and he takes it, swinging his legs around and standing up, his full height enough that she needs to tilt her head to look up at him.

“Think you can manage to rejoin the party?” she asks, her hand still in his as she tugs him to the door that will lead them back through the warehouse. “We’ll stick to the quieter corners. I’ll hold your hand the whole time,” she adds, smiling up at him, her tone cajoling, teasing.

There’s something about summer in Wayhaven, something about Pride in Wayhaven – the air feels lighter, sweeter. Grace feels lighter. Bolstered by love and friendship, warmth and comfort. All the good things about her little town seem to be highlighted during this time.

All the good things about her little life, she thinks, glancing at their joined hands.

Mason snorts and looks down at her, amused, before giving her hand a squeeze.

She squeezes back, feeling happier than she can remember ever feeling before.

“I’ll even buy you a snow cone without the syrup,” she offers as they leave, bumping his shoulder with hers.

He grunts and then stops short. “Isn’t that just ice?”

She bites back a smile, feeling laughter in her throat, and nods.

There’s a pause. He blinks once. Twice. Then—he bursts into loud laughter. The sound is so free, so surprising yet pleasant, that she can’t help the grin that spreads across her face. And when he pulls her even closer and presses a kiss to the top of her head—well. She’s not sure that smile will ever go away now.

“Lead the way, sweetheart,” he murmurs, keeping her close to him.

And she does.

[chaoticpuff17]

When the Chips are Down

part 2

masterlist

Hello darlings.... I did a thing. I did not intend to update this, in fact I was going to do SWGD updates or do a sequel to Baby Mine, but here we are. It’s a little short, but enjoy!--- chaotic puff.

Y/N was exhausted both mentally and physically. Pushing Namjoon away didn’t work. The man was like an octopus. Take away one arm, and another takes its place. She just didn’t have the energy to keep him at bay. It was easier just to let him wrap himself around her. It wasn’t as though she could run. Where could she hide on a plane? And she doubted very much that any of the attendants or Jin would help her either. She was in a heap of trouble. Even though Namjoon promised no repercussions, she knew he had to have something else in mind. Namjoon was never one to let such a slight go unpunished. 

The flight left her even more exhausted, and she had to be begrudgingly grateful for Namjoon’s foreplaning. The pajamas and the bed were extremely comfortable, much more so than her dress would have been or even any of the cushy seats outside of the private bedroom. Namjoon was also extremely attentive to even the slightest sign of discomfort from her. The attention to detail made the flight slightly more bearable even if there was a constant niggling anxiety over the health of her baby. She knew full well she wasn’t supposed to be flying in her third trimester, but it wasn’t as though Namjoon was giving her a choice. He never gave her a choice.

He did allow her her rest, and that was a small mercy. He didn’t push her to talk. He even encouraged her to rest knowing how taxing the journey was going to be on her and the baby. She’d slept for a good while, only waking up to allow Jin and the labor and delivery nurse to check her over and when Namjoon had had dinner delivered to them. He’d seemed apologetic for waking her up, but according to him, it was important to keep her strength up, for the baby, and she wasn’t going to tell him that skipping one meal probably wasn’t going to hurt either of them. It just wasn’t worth the argument.  

She cradled her stomach with one hand as she thought of what was waiting for them in Korea. Namjoon would never let her out of the house again. There was little doubt of that, but what would that mean for the baby? Her poor little fútbol player. Her miracle. She never wanted this for any child of hers. Children had always been so iffy for her. Her last two pregnancies had been disastrous. She had been constantly worried over the health of the baby. It was part of the reason that she and Mark had settled in Italy. She was worried about losing the little one, worried how the stress of constant running would affect them both. 

She should have kept moving. She should have allowed Mark to bring them both to somewhere that Namjoon never would have found them, some small island in the middle of the ocean, or deep in some forgotten countryside. It was too late for what ifs though, far too late. There would be no escape for her, but she prayed that there could be one for Mark however slim the possibility was. 

A small comfort in all of this was that her sister was safe. She’d been so careful to never let Namjoon know about her sister. Iya and Chester would be safe at home living their lives free from the mess that she had gotten herself into. It pained her more than anything that she would never see Iyla again, but it was worth it to keep her sister safe even if she couldn’t do the same for herself or her baby. Iyla was safe. By some minor miracle, she was safe.

She groaned shifting as the baby sent a harsh kick to her kidneys. Namjoon instantly perked up hovering over her worriedly. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked eyes flitting over her form and hands hovering over her belly unsure of what to do or what was wrong. He’d been hovering the whole flight.  

“I’m fine.” She hissed rubbing soft circles on her belly silently asking her little one to calm down. Every time the baby kicked too harshly, Namjoon began to fret over her. She didn’t need any fretting. She needed some peace and to not be several thousand miles in the air, maybe then she could relax. The estate was a prison, but it was at least a familiar and an exceedingly comfortable one. 

“Is it the baby?” He asked placing his hand over hers his gaze intently focused on her belly. “Should I get Jin?”

“They’re just kicking.” She groaned sinking back into the pillows again. “They’ll settle down soon enough. They’re just a little active right now.” 

Namjoon’s eyes flickered to the monitor nervously. It was an odd expression on him. She didn’t think that she’d ever seen him truly nervous before. “Are you sure? I can get him.” 

She nodded tiredly, adjusting herself so that she was half lying down with a pillow supporting her belly and another stuck between her legs. It was one of the few ways she could get comfortable now that her belly was so large. Mark had always made sure that she was settled comfortably. 

She could remember the first night her growing belly had caused her too much discomfort to sleep well. He’d come back the next day with a variety of new pillows and a heap of advice from the nonnas of the village. She rarely had to ask Mark to do things. He went above and beyond without ever saying a word about it. If he saw a problem, he fixed it. It was one of the things that she loved about him. He had made the adjustment to motherhood easier. He had been a pillar for her even though he was grieving as well. They’d leaned on each other to get through the worst of it, and she wasn’t sure how she was going to finish this pregnancy without him. She wasn’t supposed to go through the last of it without him.

He’d treated her and her baby as though they were family, as though they were his own. He’d been there for everything, the first flutters of movement, the first kicks that he could actually feel. He’d been there for every prediction that the nonnas gave her about the baby, and the nonna did love to predict and give advice. Some were convinced it was a boy because of how the baby was sitting. Others swore she was having a girl. She and Mark didn’t care though. All they wanted was a healthy baby. 

Mark wouldn’t be there for the most important part though, and that killed her. He was supposed to be there. He was supposed to hold her hand and tell her it was alright as she brought their baby into the world. It was their baby, not Namjoon’s, never Namjoon’s. She couldn’t let Namjoon know that though. It would be detrimental for both herself and for Mark. She’d have to readjust her thinking to play into Namjoon’s ego. Unfortunately he was the most important person at the moment. All of their lives were in his hands, and if she didn’t cater to his whims, they would all be in danger. 

“I should get Jin.” Namjoon murmured even as he wrapped himself around her showing no sign of leaving her to call for the doctor.

“I’m fine.” She hissed again but made no move to make him remove himself from her. It was too much effort when he would just wrap himself around her again.

“You should get some more rest.” He murmured into her hair. “We have a few more hours until we land.”

Rest. Both Jin and Namjoon had been henpecking her telling her to rest, but how could she given the circumstances? There was too much uncertainty, too much to worry about. Mark would have told her not to worry. Worry was bad for baby and bad for momma, but Mark wasn’t here.

If there was one thing she could take comfort it, it was the fact that she doubted Namjoon would hurt her while she was pregnant, and she very much doubted that he would hurt the baby. Namjoon was far too prepared and fussy not to be concerned over both her health and the baby’s. She wouldn’t be surprised if he already had everything ready for them at the estate, or at least as ready as he could be without knowing the baby’s gender. But gender didn’t matter so much with newborns. They outgrew clothes so quickly that it was better just to go with neutral things that could be reused for any other kids that came along.

Now that was a thought. Would she have other children? How many did Namjoon want? It wasn’t something they’d ever really discussed. It wasn’t something she’d ever really wanted to discuss with him, but kids were upon them whether she liked it or not. If the baby was a boy, he’d have his heir, and maybe they would be done. If it was a girl, there would definitely be more children in their future if only for the sake of succession.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like kids. She adored them, but she wasn’t so sure of having Namjoon as the father. She didn’t want him as a husband much less something as permanently binding as the father of her children.

She’d dared to dream in that little Italian village of a life, a life with Mark. Their little house would be filled with life and laughter. There would be siblings for her current little one running around. It would have been quiet, nice. It would have been almost everything she could have ever wanted, but daring to hope was foolish, especially with the baggage hanging over both of their heads, and Namjoon’s arrival proved that. And with his arrival, her little fantasy life drifted away like so many other dreams.

“I’m sorry, jagi.” He murmured into her hair. Stunned to hear an apology, she waited, keeping silent to see if he would elaborate. “I know flying has to be uncomfortable for you right now, but it’s the fastest way home.”

Of course that was what he was sorry for. He was sorry that she and the baby were uncomfortable, but there was no remorse for once more uprooting her from her life.

“It’ll be over soon.” She muttered under her breath nuzzling into the wall of pillows that kept her and Namjoon propped up. They had to be either Namjoon or Jin’s doing. There was no way that the plane regularly had such an absurd amount of pillows.

“Just a few more hours.” He assured his long fingers intertwining themselves with hers over her belly. “And then we’ll be home.”

part 3

[unholyplumpprincess]

Speak Up

A commission for @mintocchi ! Thank you so very much for your patience while I moved everything around :D

Summary: You and Crypto have been in a relationship for awhile now, and he's still got issues when trying to speak up for things that he wants. You always try to get him to voice his opinions and concerns, and somehow this leads to training him how via the bedroom. Or! In which Crypto needs to learn to stop being an actions over words guy or else you'll make him beg over and over again for what he wants.

Reblogs > Likes. Please Reblog if you hit Like :D

!!!Minors and ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked!!!

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Crypto/Reader

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Reader is gender neutral and written with a vulva, they were originally supposed to be a cis gal but there’s no real language depicting them as strictly a gal!, Denial and forcing Crypto to beg and use his big boy words, P tame kink wise!

Words: 5k

___________________

Starstruck. 

That’s how you had first felt when you had met Crypto. 

You were a new camera operator on the set of the Apex games, someone who got all the good angles and made sure the drone cameras could really catch all the action. You’d met him the same season he’d been introduced, noting how he’d been cold and disregarding, yet appeared confident in himself. But his eyes, they’d been so...paranoid. Especially when you approached to introduce yourself as one of the camera operators. 

He’d regarded you with a short, quick nod. Odd, you’d thought. But that had quickly vanished when Elliott had taken you aside and chatted you up, an arm slung around your shoulder and a grin on his face. “Hey, don’t mind the kid, probably still jet lagged, dropships, bein’ legends and all- anyway sooooo I hear you operate those cameras now, huh? Make sure you get all my good angles- not that any of them are bad, just, you know, keep that attention on the money maker you feel me? The money maker being me, of course-” 

~Rest under the cut~

“Mirage.” Crypto’s voice had cut in between you two, watching as you both had turned and you could note his irritated look at Elliott before a much more apologetic one was glanced your way. “Apologies. He does not understand personal boundaries-” 

Elliott feigns a dramatic gasp, cutting Crypto off with his free hand against his own chest as if wounded. 

You stifle your laugh when Elliott keeps up the act, sputtering before pointing at Crypto accusingly. “Woah, woah, woah, I’ll have you know that I know this lovely thing. Used to be the tech head up iiiiiiin- audio, right?” He turns towards you after that, squeezing his arm around your shoulders in a friendly way as you beam at being remembered. 

“That’s right! I was actually hoping to speak to you, Crypto,” You gesture at him, noting Crypto’s light surprise of raised eyebrows before confusion and worry passes his features. Quick to overthink, huh? 

You’re quick to follow up to ease his possible fears. “N-not! Not as an employee, I mean, I just- your, uh, your drone. They kinda remind me of an old camera used back in the day and I was wondering if you had any tips or tricks I might be able to pick up on?” 

That’s what started the relationship in the first place. Crypto, that day, had offered merely a one shouldered shrug, but after Mirage giving him a look and whining to him like a puppy, he’d agreed. Resulting in you having your own private session with him as he helped you learn a few tips. You were already trained in operating the newer models, but having a few pointers never hurt. 

The entire time he’d asked questions about you, it almost felt like he was interrogating you rather than trying to start up curious small talk. But, to ease any fears he might have had about you having ulterior motives, you answered as honestly as possible to each one. Judging by his more paranoid nature, you didn’t ask any in turn for fear of him shying away. 

The least you wanted to do was make Crypto feel as though you were untrustworthy. 

As you two grew closer, the more relaxed he became around you. No more tips were to be given, so that excuse flew out the window, so you’d offered hang outs. It took a few tries until he finally mumbled he’d feel more comfortable in his room, which is where you two ended up being and you learned he had a sweet little cat named Isabella-Marie. 

You had smiled at her name, asking where he got the idea from, and he’d smiled softly- almost sadly when he’d said she was his sister’s cat he took in, but no more information. Said cat took to you nicely, and just as she had, Crypto started warming up to you as well. 

It was a slow, slow process. You took your time with him and learned that the personality he put on was nothing but a front. Something to keep more hidden. In private, he’s so soft, almost shy in his approach to you. He’s still got his sarcastic tongue, but he’s more playful when in private with you. Much like a cat. You see him opening up the slightest bit to people he’s starting to enjoy too- Elliott and Natalie both seem to have won some sort of favor with him. 

That friendship slowly worked its way into romantic. 

The first time you kissed him is with your hand cupping his cheek and his cheeks flushed red as his dark eyes flickered to your lips multiple times until you took initiative. It took a bit of coaxing to even get him to rest his hands on your waist, but once that had happened, it’s like he’d been so touch starved all his life. Clinging to you and sighing into your mouth as if he’d just sunken into bed after a long day. 

His need for touch didn’t surprise you considering when you offered hugs and snuggles that he’d melt into you and cling to you so tightly. Your height difference, with you being much shorter, made that kind of funny when he’d lean down to bury his face in your neck and you’d stand on your tiptoes to make it easier. All within a private setting- outside of these rooms, you were both strictly professional. 

Crypto’s name had been revealed to you not long after. Tae Joon Park. You both agreed that if you used it frequently that you might yell it in public, so it was reserved for more intimate moments or serious when you two were alone. You were mindful about switching his name, so you kept to using ‘Crypto’ in your head to ensure you wouldn’t fuck it up. 

Though, it never failed to delight you in hearing him sigh fondly when you’d mumble his name by his ear after a sweet kiss. 

Dates were more reserved for the bedrooms as well. You never minded that either, but sometimes on rare occasions, he’d don a mask and a hood so you two could go out. You could only imagine the type of anxiety those outings brought, but it always warmed your heart that he was willing to take a breath and push himself out to do these things for you. In turn, you would spend the nights with him, with his head on your chest and his arms squeezing around your middle. 

Crypto, you quickly find however, is really bad at vocalizing his desires. 

He’s a man of action, hardly using his words and if he did it was one worded or quick. You’ve been trying to help him on communication skills for both your sakes, but it’s more difficult on him. It doesn’t help that he’s quiet either, so sneaking up behind you to snake his arms around you normally results in you jumping and making a squeak sound. 

But it also meant that for more...bedroom activities, that he would use actions. You always knew when he wanted something, you weren’t blind to it, you just wanted to make 100% sure of what he wanted. Normally resulting in you straddling his lap, a hand around his neck and speaking low for him to tell you what he wanted. 

Crypto always got the cutest face anytime you took the reins and control. A healthy flush over his cheeks, his breathing heavier and his eyes pleading, but his mouth refusing. 

 Stubborn was a good way to put it. How his eyebrows would furrow and he’d whimper and buck his hips up, but not tell you what he wanted. It took a lot of trial and error to even get him to utter ‘please’ at times. Your poor baby. 

You especially found you liked teasing him. Learning quick that he liked nicknames like ‘Good boy’ and ‘Baby boy’. You enjoyed edging him, tying him up or even just making him cling to the sheets or his own hair as his hips humped the air and he sobbed without begging for you. Always trying so hard to convey in his body language what he wanted you to do. 

You found yourself mesmerized by his desperation at a lot of times. Where Crypto’s kiss flushed lips would part, his eyebrows knitted and his eyes frantic on you. His own hands gripping his hair to follow instructions on not to touch you as his hips thrust into the air and made his thick cock bob. 

Sometimes you wondered if he could cum just by humping the air alone. 

Another time, you’d always tell yourself, always so eager to hear that final sobbed out word of ‘Please’ before you would swing your legs over him and ride him hard and fast. Normally fit with cruel croons about what a sweet, pathetic little thing he looked like. Your very good boy. 

That’s what you were thinking of now as you sat on the couch in his quarters, waiting for him to return from his match in the arena. 

Isabella-Marie is happily purring in your lap as your hand strokes through her soft, strawberry blonde fur. You’ve set up there with a blanket over your lap that she’s kneading happily, the match Crypto had been in having ended about an hour ago. You could tell he was struggling, too much talking around him that was reflecting in his steps. 

He’d been in a team with Mirage and Wattson, both people you knew he liked being around, but unfortunately, they kept striking up conversation. Leading to Crypto being off his rhythm. But it was nice to hear him breathe out in amusement at their antics sometimes, caught on the audio feed with the announcers crooning about how it looked like he made some friends finally. 

They at least made it to the top three. Fighting valiantly to maintain their location on World’s Edge in the city. Mirage had gotten cocky when they’d knocked two of the opposite team, going up to finish them off and ending up with a shotgun in the back and a cracking snarl in the sky of Bloodhound. 

The rest is history. But, at least you knew Bloodhound wouldn’t be the type to gloat and act cocky if they caught Crypto- at least out loud. You’re glad it was them rather than Caustic. Bad blood ran deep between them, not to mention Natalie struggling herself with it all. You were glad her and Crypto could solve whatever issue it was that ran between them- one that not even you were aware of. 

Security and secrecy, Crypto had told you with apology in his eyes. You understood, some things were best kept secret. Especially in case you accidentally got caught up in a mess, you could genuinely say you had no idea what was happening in all the legends’ lives. 

The beep of the door being unlocked makes Isabella-Marie awaken, doing a stretch across your lap before she chirps and hurries to the door to greet Crypto. She curls around his feet as he removes his shoes at the door before entering any further into the room in the rest of his gear. 

“Hello, sweetheart,” You hear him tiredly coo downwards, hearing Isabella-Marie's delighted chirp as she’s scooped up, quickly followed by her loud motor engine of a purr. 

You slide off the couch, dressed in your lounging outfit of soft black sweatpants covered with cliché little green alien heads and a loose gray sweater with a green Apex symbol over the right breast, the collar falling off your shoulders. Crypto looks worse for wear, his eyes are tired and he’s got dirt smudged on his cheek and smells heavy of sweat. Not that Isabella-Marie minds. Nor you. 

“Hey,” You greet him, a smile on your face as his eyes rest on you whilst his cat presses her cheek in insistent strokes against his chin, cradled in his arms. 

“Hey,” He murmurs back to you, adjusting Isabella-Marie in his arms when you reach for him. Despite his tired expression, his cheeks flush when he leans down and to the side for you to cup his cheeks and peck a kiss on his lips in greeting. 

“You need a shower. You go wash up and I’ll order dinner.” You tell him, offering your arms out for Isabella-Marie to be transferred to your arms in all her purring glory. “What were you thinking tonight?” 

“Mmh.” Is his only reply, leaning down to rest his cheek on the top of your head in a small nuzzle. Affectionate boy. You laugh a bit, gently nudging him with your hip as Isabella-Marie jumps out of your arms. Giving you time to hook your arms around his waist and shove your hands into his back pockets under his jacket to draw him close and make him blush. 

“Tae Jooooon,” You tease his name, enjoying how he hums low in his throat in response and turning his head to press his lips against the top of your head in a kiss. “We’ve talked about this. You can’t go your whole life being a one worded man.” 

“Mmh.” He responds again, this time with a smile that you feel. 

You shove at him playfully to shoo him off for the shower, calling out after his back when he goes dutifully towards the bathroom. “Fine! But if you don’t like what I picked because you didn’t give any options, I don’t wanna hear you complain!” 

Not that he ever did complain. If he was picky this would be a bigger concern. But thankfully you two seemed to be on the same page a lot of times, especially when it came to food. 

The food you order is Chinese takeout, getting here just in time for when Crypto emerges from his long shower looking a lot more awake and less grouchy. He’s dressed in his thick framed glasses, his normally slicked back hair nice and slick, some black sweatpants and a loose white crop-top, something you appreciate very greatly to be able to see his fit frame. 

Like a nerdy jock. 

You show your enjoyment when you wrap your arms around him from behind when he goes to look at what you got for dinner. Running your nails up his exposed beauty-marked, warm skin on his abdomen to feel him squirm and lean back against you with this flustered huff falling from his lips. 

Eventually you two make it to the couch where you have dinner and watch one of the K-dramas he liked to indulge in. Sometimes Crypto will pause it to explain a verbal pun that wasn’t caught via the subtitles for you, something that always makes you smile and appreciate when he takes the time to pause and explain for you. 

Though you’re sure he doesn’t appreciate when you wait for his most distracted point in time to steal a piece of his food and shove it in your mouth too quickly for him to stop you. Resulting in him poking at you until you squeal from being tickled and he can take a piece off your food in retaliation as you whine at him after. 

Domestic. That’s the best way you could describe yours and Crypto’s relationship. 

Home. 

After dinner is put away and teeth are brushed, you two settle back onto the couch. You curl up on the corner, Crypto following you to cuddle up to your side. His cheek rests against your shoulder, kind of tilting his body into you as you rest your arm behind him, your hand resting on his nape to slide up to pet at the shaved portion of his head. Another hum from him of appreciation, but not verbalizing his like of it. 

Crypto softly adjusts, but you take it as nothing more than him getting closer to you with the soft sound of the TV in front of you. You’ve got your phone in your lap to play a puzzle game while he watches his show, very much like a cat as he rubs his cheek against your shoulder affectionately. 

Another squirm, another adjustment is felt after a moment of him pressing his thigh to yours. You take it as him wanting to be closer, only sliding your fingers higher along his scalp to the coarse hair atop his head to lightly scratch at the root like he likes. 

You don’t notice his mouth starting to part, quickly cut off with the ringing of your phone and you groaning aloud. “Really? Right now?” Before you’re answering it with a polite ‘Hello?’ that makes Crypto snort at your tone change. 

He watches as you chat, watching your lips move and hearing you discuss footage and what your boss must have wanted you to edit or someone else. He’s not really paying attention when you’re still petting his hair. He tries to nudge closer to you, near flush with your side as his hand now rests on your thigh, hoping to catch your attention. You only offer him a quick smile before returning back to your conversation. 

After five minutes, it’s clear this isn’t going to be a short call either. 

A sigh is heard from Crypto before he’s leaning up to start pecking soft, brushing kisses on your neck. Your head tilts for him, only a light flutter of your lashes as you go ‘Mmhm yeah’ to whoever you are on the phone with. Your nails press lightly at his scalp, letting him know you feel him as his teeth lightly nip at your neck like you like. 

You’re damned good at keeping your composure verbally, and now Crypto’s beginning to wonder if you’ve ever done anything on the phone with him without his knowledge. Even the mental image of you spread out and touching yourself while on the phone near making him whine, something he swallows down. 

You clearly can feel him and see him. You offer a little smile when he peeks up at you, catching your gaze. Emboldened by you sparing even a little attention to him, his hand slides down to your wrist in hopes you’ll catch up to what he’s saying. Gently drawing it to his thigh and towards his inner thigh. And yet, you still chat on the phone, but now you’re squeezing and massaging his thigh, your pinkie lightly skimming over his crotch and making Crypto’s breath hitch against your shoulder. 

His brows are furrowed, looking ever so frustrated as you now purposefully lengthen the conversation out by bringing back a point from the last game played. Crypto’s head tips lightly up to you, his eyes pleading with you when your knuckles brush over the bulge in his sweatpants. 

Your eyes meet his and you quirk a brow with a light smirk on your face. Your eyes say enough for him, you’re sure, judging by how his face flushes and his brows furrow once again. You can see and feel how he squirms, realizing he’s not going to get anything until he uses his words. 

He’s stubborn. He’s always so stubborn. Squirming in his place and getting more frustrated as you keep chatting. Only after three minutes does he finally give in when he realizes this isn’t going to work and you’re only going to keep teasing him through his pants. 

“Please?” He all but whispers, his mouth felt quivering on your bare shoulder and his hot breath felt in a shaky exhale. “Please touch me, please?” 

You smirk. 

“Oh! Hey, boss, looks like I’ll have to chat with you tomorrow morning about that- uhuh, yeah, yeah, getting,” -You pause there to let out a feigned yawn- “Oof, yeah, getting real tired....uhuh, yeah, sounds good! Buh-bye.” Before you’re ending the call and practically pouncing on him. 

You end up in his lap, straddling him and cupping his cheeks, brushing some of his hair from his face before you lean in to kiss him. Crypto’s hands find your waist, hovering at first before gripping you when you lick into his mouth after biting his lip to make him gasp. 

You sit up higher to press him back into the couch, letting your hands slide into his hair for him to tip his head back when you pull at it. His moan is low and vibrates his chest when your tongue licks over his own, feeling his hips jerk lightly up and against your ass needily. 

“I like when you beg,” You breathe as you part from the kiss, moving the kisses down his jawline and towards his ear where you lightly nip. “Do it again for me?” 

“Nnh-” Is the only response he manages at first, his fingers shaking as they slide down to grip your hips when you start grinding across his lap. Back and forth to your own rhythm and feeling just how hard he is. Bless whoever made sweatpants. 

Crypto’s so cute when you pull back to look at him. Where his head is tipped back and to the side, his lips parted and letting out ragged breaths with each drag of your hips across his lap. How his brows knit together when you grind low and slow downwards to catch his attention and his mouth falls closed to hiss. 

But. He still wasn’t speaking. 

“Be a good boy and tell me what you want, hm?” You try to encourage him, letting your hands fall down to his exposed abdomen to slide your hands up and under his crop top. Slipping your hands over his chest to thumb at his sensitive nipples, gently pinching and rolling them. Crypto whimpers sharply, his head rolling to the opposite side and looking more stubborn by the second as he strains to come up with words. 

“I-I-” His voice comes out in a whine, framed by how his lips quiver and his blunt nails cling to your hips when you stop grinding to encourage him further. “I...I want your mouth. On- o-on my cock. Please?”  

“Awww, baby, when you look that cute? I’d do just about anything for you.” 

You move down his body, kissing your way down until you can slink in between his knees onto the floor. You waste no time in hooking your fingers under his sweatpants, your mouth watering as you follow his happy trail downwards as it gets more exposed. You tug them completely off with his underwear, watching his thick cock bounce with a satisfying bob and a drool of pre-cum from the flushed head peaking from foreskin. 

Crypto covers his face with his hands to hide his burning red flush that edges down to his chest when you hum at him approvingly. But, judging by how his cock throbs, you already know that as he likes being watched and praised without words. 

You take your sweet time kissing up his length and down his balls, letting your tongue run over the sensitive skin. Your hand holds the base, stroking downwards to pull back his foreskin, mouthing at the flushed head and letting your tongue slide against the slit in teasing dips until a whimper falls from his lips. 

You tease him like this for a good enough amount of time before you even take him into your mouth fully. Suckling and bobbing your head, your free hand holding his hip to squeeze to remind him to keep his hips down when he starts trying to hump upwards into your mouth. 

Anytime you feel how his cock jerks and you hear his breathing quicken; You stop. Pulling your mouth off to kiss at his hips and thighs instead. Squeezing on his legs soothingly and rubbing at his skin when Crypto whines and rolls his hips up with not a single word peeping from his lips. Even if now his arm is thrown over his forehead, able to see how he peeks open one eye to look down at you pleadingly. 

You smile up at him each time before you take him in again. Suckling, licking, your nails sliding down his thigh until your hand can cup his balls and lightly squeeze. And each time you feel him get close, you pull back. The same bite of pain of your nails on his skin, same edging, the same denial even as pre-cum spills from his cock and it mixes with your drool to connect you with a sliver that makes him near sob when he sees you. 

You know he liked it messy. Liked seeing the mess you could make. 

The mess you could make of him. 

You’re about to remind him that he needs to use his big boy words if he wants to get anywhere tonight. But, seems Crypto gets the memo when he starts pleading. 

“Let me cum inside you, please, please, please- please let me cum i-inside you, please, I’ll be good-”  His voice is breathy, a high whimper as his hips try to fuck up into the loose grip you have on his shaft. He just looks so pathetic for you right now. Just a teary, drooly, humpy mess. 

You like how desperate looks on him. 

“Mmmhhh, I dunno, baby,” You let your voice elongate your words, your breath fanning across his sensitive skin and causing his dick to jerk, lightly tapping your lower lip and making you smile. “You look awfully cute. Can’t you hold it a bit longer? C’mon, you can be my good boy and hold it, can’t you?” 

Each end of your questions is punctuated with a drag of your lips across his cock, letting him feel how you murmur across his reddened skin. 

Crypto sobs out again, his body jerking in sensitivity as both his hands come back up to hide his red face and teary eyes. His nod allows you to continue, continuing your teasing kisses and licks. Making sure to bite pain into his thighs to cause his mind to either associate the pain with pleasure or to back off his pleasure. Judging by the way he sobs out and twitches each time you scratch or bite him, you’re guessing it’s your prior guess. 

“Please, please, please-” Crypto starts to sob when you deny him again, his cock jerking heavily and spilling pre-cum on his lower abdomen. His hands have fallen to grip the couch as best as he can, his teary gaze looking down at you and his lips quivering with his shaky breaths. So cute. “Please, I-I cannot take it anymore, please, please let me cum in you, I want to cum in you-” 

You’ll give him credit. This is the most he’s ever spoken during sex, let alone been so clear in his needs and desires. Something you’ll praise him for later. For now, you smile up at him, wiping your mouth off on the back of your hand before standing to wriggle out of your lounge clothing.  

Crypto’s quick to help you, hooking fingers in your sweater to help you out of it. It’s fit with your laughter as you nearly fall on him, lots of giggling when his mouth presses a kiss to your abdomen when you get halfway stuck through your sweater and pants. “Tae Joon-” You laugh out his name when you feel him smile against your abdomen, “C’mon, lil help here?” 

Eventually you escape your clothing prison, able to set the mood again when your straddle his lap. You’re plenty wet enough, but you still take the time to tease him a bit more by reaching down to stretch yourself while hovering over his cock. You feel flustered as he watches you, sitting under you and looking up at you with such love in his eyes while you make soft sounds yourself. 

It takes a few tries to line up correctly, but soon you’re bouncing your hips on him with your fingers in his hair and your mouth on his neck. He always sounds so pretty the way he cries out, clinging to your hips at first before his arms wind around you to hug you to his trembling frame. You pepper kisses all over his face, cupping his cheeks adoringly as you rest your foreheads together. 

He cums rather quickly, clinging so hard to you as his hips frantically hump up against you. He ends up accidentally holding you still so he can thrust up into you, resulting in you clinging to him in turn with your lips parted and murmuring praise as he fucks you through his orgasm. He’s swearing in his mother tongue, something you can only catch bits and pieces of. 

When Crypto’s done cumming, one of his hands quickly goes down to between both your bodies to rub at your clit as you hump against his cock still lodged inside you. He finds your lips to capture when you whimper out his name when you begin to cum, your nails biting into his shoulders as he rubs you through it. 

By the time you’re both satisfied, you slump against his frame, burying your face into his neck as your sweaty bodies press together on the couch, still connected. 

When both of your breathing settles, he presses a kiss to the top of your head, nuzzling himself there as his hands slide up and down your sides. You smile softly, adjusting your hips a bit and laughing a bit when he grunts in this little oversensitive way. 

When you lift your head to meet his gaze, you smile a bit brighter, gently bumping your noses together. “Hey,” 

“Hey,” He murmurs back just as fondly. 

“You need a shower.”  

He smiles when he realizes you’re replaying your interaction from earlier that day, reaching up to brush your frazzled hair from your face. “Mmh.” 

“You need a shower with me?” 

“Mmh.” He repeats, moving to rest his cheek atop your head as you laugh at him when you feel his chest shake with a quiet laugh in turn. 

“Alright fine. Guess I’ll be getting a shower first and you’ll be left out here with your dick out and cold-” 

That gets him. Pushing you off him and to the couch with a yelp from you as you fall gracelessly on your side and gasp as he takes off towards the shower and you quickly following after him with a playful swat to his ass when you catch up. 

Yeah. You would say your guys’ relationship was domestic. 

[koalataeil]

Intertwined (Poly!DoyoungxKun xHaechanxJungwoo)

pairing: kun x doyoung x jungwoo x haechan x reader (gender neutral)

words: 1.9k

genre: pure fluff, established relationship, poly!au

request: poly!nct (kun, doyoung, jungwoo, haechan, reader) fluff

summary: doyoung isn’t really one for couple’s/partner’s items, but he treats his significant others to one that will work for them.

A/N: this was such a challenge to write because this is such a different group of members. it was super fun and i hope you all enjoy

You could hear the boys loudly talking as they walked down the hallway before they entered your shared apartment. You couldn’t help but grin as you tried to hear what they were talking about while you keep your eyes on the tv playing a new show you’d just gotten into. Once the door opened, their voices were significantly louder, continuing their debate.

“Y/N!” Jungwoo called, running to your spot once he got his shoes off. He tackled you in a tight hug, pushing you onto your side. “I missed you,” he’d comment, kissing the side of your head.

“We missed you too,” Haechan pouted, trying to get involved in the cuddling mess before him.

“Give Y/N some room you two,” Kun commanded from across the room, fixing their shoes and picking up their thrown jackets and bags.

“It’s okay Kun,” you replied, your heart full from seeing your boyfriends for the first time in a couple days. They’d been busy with some meetings to discuss comeback plans and the possibility of a new subunit debuting soon. “Where’s Doyoung?”

“He had to go pick up something quick. He said he’ll be home soon,” Kun replied, finally feeling content with how the entryway looked. He made his way over to you three on the couch, his smile ever-present as he finally took you in. Haechan had finally made Jungwoo move so he could join you at your other side. Both boys did their best to pull you closer to them, each resting their heads on your shoulders.

“He went by himself?” you asked softly, looking towards Kun, who took a seat across from you.

Jungwoo nodded, “he said it was a secret so we couldn’t go with him.” His voice was quiet as he snuggled into the crook of your neck.

“Did you eat yet, Y/N?” Haechan asked, his finger drawing lazy shapes on your thigh.

“Yeah, I got some pizza earlier.” Jungwoo immediately moved his head away from you and pouted. You smiled, “There’s some leftovers in the fridge for you Jungwoo.”

He grinned and rushed to the kitchen to grab a couple of slices. Kun took the chance to kiss your forehead while Jungwoo was distracted. He also ruffled Haechan’s hair, earning a light slap to the wrist from the youngest. You giggled softly as you pet Haechan’s hair, trying to fix it for him. “You’re so cute, Channie,” Kun cooed.

“Y/N, tell Kun to leave me alone,” he mumbled beside you. You just smiled in response, holding one of Kun’s hands in your own.

“Don’t cuddle without me!” Jungwoo yelled, returning from the kitchen, a small piece of sauce still in the corner of his mouth. He jumped onto the couch and returned to his spot beside you.

“You have something on your face,” Kun mentioned, leaning over to clean it off with his hand. Jungwoo instead pulled Kun further, their faces inches from each other. Kun got the hint, licking off the sauce from his lip.

They smiled at each other, “Thank you, Kun.”

“Get a room,” Haechan groaned, making the rest of you laugh.

“Are you jealous, Haechan?” Jungwoo questioned.

“Y/N, make them stop,” he whined from beside you. Before you could say anything, Kun had moved in front of Haechan, his hand cupping the younger’s chin and pulling him in for a short, soft kiss. Haechan seemed shocked after Kun pulled away, becoming silent as his face started turning red.

You glanced up at Kun expectedly, waiting for your turn. Kun just grinned in response, mirroring his previous actions with Haechan now with you. This kiss lasted a lot longer than the one between Haechan and Kun, but it remained soft and innocent and full of love. Kun smiled shyly at you as he pulled away. You smiled back in return before he moved to the couch across from you once again. A light conversation about your days started as you waited for your last boyfriend to return home.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

“I’m home,” Doyoung sang as he closed the front door behind him, kicking his shoes off. Three bags hung from his arms, two filled with food and one with his surprise. The surprise that had caused his chest to tighten for most of the day and only just got worse as he walked home from the store.

“Doyoung!” Jungwoo yelled, removing himself from his spot beside you to run-up to the older man like an excited puppy. He reached to grab the bags in his arms, only for them to be pulled away from him.

“I still have a surprise. I don’t want you to ruin it,” Doyoung explained once he saw Jungwoo’s small pout. Jungwoo nodded, trudging back to his spot on the couch. Doyoung followed after setting the non-food bag on the table near the door. “I brought some snacks and drinks.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” you started as he handed you a bottle of your favorite soda.

“But I wanted to,” he continued, passing the other men their respective drinks and snacks.

“Is this your surprise?” Kun questioned, opening his can.

“If this was my surprise, don’t you think I would’ve let you guys come with me?” Doyoung responded with a small smirk. “I’ll go grab the real surprise,” he said, setting his drink on the coffee table.

Once he returned with the bag, he instructed you all to sit on the couch. Kun sat next to Jungwoo while Haechan and Jungwoo sat up more. “Okay, close your eyes. No peaking.”

Doyoung grabbed one box from the bag and quickly opened it, hooking the chain around his neck. His smile was ever-present as he adjusted the necklace. “Hold your hands out please. Do not open your eyes until I say so.” You all nodded at him, each of your patience running out as time moved on. He placed one small box into each of your open palms, noticing how his hands shook from anxiety awaiting your reactions.

“I think I know what this is,” Haechan teased, feeling the box with one of his hands.

“Haechan, I will take your back.” Doyoung replied, just as teasingly but featuring a hint of truth. Haechan stopped, moving both his hands to hold the box like he was initially instructed. “Okay, you can all open your eyes and open your gift.”

Doyoung’s breath hitched in his chest as he observed each of your reactions. You all opened the box at the same time, in sync with each other from years of being together. You gasped as you took in the piece of jewelry, right hand moving to cover your gaping mouth. “Doyoung...” You let slip out quietly. Your other boyfriends had smiles on their faces as they also processed their matching gifts.

“Do you like it?” You nodded quickly, not trusting your voice at the moment. Your right hand moved from your mouth to take the necklace out of its safe box. The necklace had five rings intertwined with each other, each ring alternating between black and white.

“Doyoung, this is so sweet,” Kun spoke first, his eyes sparkling with love.

“How did you get these?” Jungwoo moved to clasp the chain around his own neck after seeing the chain dangling from Doyoung’s own neck.

“I know a guy,” he answered nonchalantly, a giant grin plastered on his face. Kun and Haechan had started clasping their respective chains on their own necks. “Do you want help, Y/N?” Doyoung asked softly, his eyes filled with worry as he watched you nearly freezing up while staring at the rings. You were taken out of your daydream from his voice, only responding with a small nod.

He came up behind the couch, taking the necklace from your hands gently to clasp it around your neck for you. You couldn’t help but lightly touch the rings as they rested below your collarbones. Once it was secured, he leaned down a placed a couple of soft kisses on your head. Haechan and Jungwoo whined at the affection, causing Doyoung to chuckle and place kisses on both of their heads as well.

“I thought you didn’t like couple items,” you finally stated, waiting for Doyoung to return to his spot in front of you all.

He sat on the coffee table, resting his elbows and forearms on his thighs and leaning forward, “I usually don’t. It’s risky to have couple items and getting caught by fans or paparazzi wearing them. But I saw a couple with a similar necklace and I really liked it. It’s very subtle and can be hidden under our shirts or jackets so it’s a little safer. I searched for a place that would custom make us versions with five rings instead of two. It took a while, but they finally finished them today.”

“Aw, Doyoung is a sappy romantic,” Haechan teased, getting up and hugging Doyoung tightly. You giggled along with Jungwoo and Kun, all three of you joining the hug. While you rarely did group hugs like this, the love in the air was palpable.

“I love you guys,” you mumbled, slowly starting to part from the group because of the radiating heat of your boyfriends being so close.

“We love you too,” Kun replied, also pulling away. After a few more seconds, the hug was over, Doyoung finally being free of Haechan’s tight grip.

“And just because it’s subtle doesn’t mean you don’t still need to be careful,” Doyoung started, looking between Jungwoo, Haechan, and Kun. “Remember to keep it hidden when you can. We don’t want to deal with another lecture from staff do we?” He asked rhetorically. The three boys nodded almost automatically.

“I think we can handle it,” Jungwoo commented confidently. Doyoung nearly shot him a glare but stopped himself.

“Better safe than sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m glad you liked them,” his smile returning once again.

“Thank you, Doyoungie,” you started, the rest of the boys following suit with their own thankful messages.

Just as you felt Jungwoo start leaning into you, his first sign of cuddling, you removed yourself from the couch. You could nearly feel Jungwoo’s pout and puppy-like eyes following your every move, but you kept going. Reaching for Kun and Doyoung’s hands, you led them to the other couch across from the one you were just on. You decided to sit on Doyoung’s lap while resting your legs across Kun’s and hugging Doyoung’s waist to keep yourself steady.

“Hey, why are you cuddling with them?” Haechan asked, his arms crossed like a child throwing a tantrum.

“Hyuk, I just cuddled with you and Jungwoo since you came home. I think it’s their turn now, don’t you?” You watched as both Jungwoo and Haechan shake their heads and pout before they decided to cuddle together instead. You thought they may be trying to make you jealous. Still, you were never jealous that easily, especially after being in this polyamorous relationship for so long. You returned your attention to your two oldest boyfriends, one hand playing with Doyoung’s hair and the other holding onto one of Kun’s.

All of your boyfriends sparked another conversation with each other, returning the living room to its normal, chaotic state. However, all you could think about was the necklace resting on your chest, the love it symbolized, and the comfort of being able to cuddle with each of them.

[monsterqueers]

Nonhuman Still A Decade Later - An Essay

So ive been identifying as a therian for around decade now, and otherkin and fictionkin about 6-ish(7?). I never made huge amounts of insightful posts, and I don't have any hot takes to add to other people’s. My internet presence is largely a fandom one with a side of social justice things, and thus even if I did have something I felt worth saying on the topic beyond yet another awakening story or an explanation of my past lives and whathaveyou, the viewership would be small and those who might find worth in the post wouldn’t see it.

I am no greymuzzle, no queer elder, no ‘fandom old’, I was 12-ish and heard ‘therian’ on a furry podcast and went ‘oh, thats the word for how I am. Everything makes sense now’ and proceeded to lurk mostly thereafter. I don't have all that much wisdom, im just vibing over here. But, I can talk about what its like, ten years later.

'Growing Out Of It'

I mean, you might. You might realize you aren’t a wolf, or a angel, or a pikachu or whatever. You might work through your misanthropy and gender dysphoria and trauma and internalized woes and fraught teenage experiences and come out the other side finding you aren’t these things. There's no shame in that, and it does happen.

These no shame in having a past life that you used to ID strongly as, but don't anymore, or you find you were a different kintype than you thought, or that you were human all along, even years later.

You could still ID as the thing but its not as bright anymore- but rather how humans view being human; barely of note most of the time. You may go from shifting every day heavily to being slightly shifted at all times and spiking rarely.

BUT

But, not only does that not make your experience in-the-moment any less real, but it also could just never happen. You might never have how you identify fade or change.

It might sound scary, it might be scary in the moment, even, but there is nothing truly to fear from change like this, nor from discovering what you are, really. It is a new evolution of you. It may be sad, to say goodbye to a label you've had for so long, that helped you find friends, or got you through tough times, but it doesn’t fit anymore. Marie Kondo has the right of it- thank that label, that community, that identity, and move to what does fit- what helps you.

It might also sound scary, that you will be a nonhuman thing in a meatsuit that doesn't fit until you die, that you might not ever grow out of the uncontrolled shifting and the aching dysphoria and homesickness for places you have never been. And maybe it will never go away, but it will get easier. You will find coping methods, supportive people, have access to resources and help. Eventually, these things hurt less. You get used to it. You settle into your skin, even if it isnt the right one, its still yours.

Cringe

At this point, I am immune to cringe. You will get there too, probably. Im a plural, nonhuman, neurodivergent, furry, fictionkind, genderqueer and regular queer magic-using, anime-watching, kinky fandom freak of a pagan and im living my best life. I wear a collar in public every day. My face mask has a cat face on it and I plan to get more just like it. Im going to be adding a tail and claw gauntlets to my itinerary of everyday wear once I get something properly washable. At some point you just stop caring as much about how others perceive you. So what if what you do is embarrassing and weird? It makes you happy, right? You aren't going to get hurt wearing it? Then go for it! You have nothing to lose but your shame. People will try to shame you, that is true, but as time goes on, you will find you give less of a shit about if people laugh or stare. You can bottle it up, or you can be free. Just be sure to be safe.

The Disk Horse

Once you’ve been here awhile, drama becomes the same cycles- the same drama llama, different day. You’ve already seen that argument, years ago. You’ve read that thread, you were there for that community debate that settled how the forum would do things. You’ve seen the same types of trolls, the same bad actors pop up. It gets old, after awhile.

Maybe you used to have the energy to debate and discuss and keep up with all of that, but you probably don’t now. Or if you do, its simply to inform and lurk and not to debate anymore.

Your love of debate will fade when you have the same one every six months for ten years. Trust me.

Dunking on trolls and rude assholes and debating with KFFs and anti-kin and having intra-community fistfights is going to lose its shine, especially when you look back at the posts years from now and see how many hours you wasted typing at people who aren’t going to listen to facts and certainly wont listen to you.

Daily Life

Its- normal. I am a dragon, I am a cat, I am living life.

Personally, I have some past lives I no longer identify as that I used to- even though the past life is still there. I have kintypes i've since learned I had kinfeels of only because of other identity relations (paratypes, I believe the new word is called). I used to shift often, I don't much anymore, its a low-grade 20% all the time. Since figuring out and coming to terms with our plurality, some kinfeels were found to belong to people who are not me. We have access to buying things that alleviate dysphoria, we no longer have the horrible emotional state we had in high school that exacerbated nonhuman difficulties.

Life is good, strangely enough. And I am still a cat and a dragon in a human meatsuit (with some other folks in here with me!), and that is just how I like it.

All and all- whats being nonhuman like after ten years of having the same label? Normal. It feels comfortable. Like living. I have always been these things, and I very likely will always feel this way. I no longer feel shame for doing things I used to be scolded for, I no longer feel quite so discontent with my physical form, I feel whole (ironically, being many people in one body).

Its just...Living, but as a nonhuman. There isn't much more to say.

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH60

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

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Chapter 60: Purgatory Reunion (XII)

It was getting late at night, so reason told Qi Leren that it was time to rest, but the warm night wind was rare in the Underground Ant City, and the person sitting beside him was the lover he had met after a long separation. Qi Leren felt no drowsiness at all, as if he could talk to Ning Zhou all night.

They did talk for a long time, and even Ning Zhou, who has always been taciturn, said many things about the past.

"Winter swimming in Neverland? That’s too cold!" Qi Leren was stunned by Ning Zhou's hobby, and his teeth chattered with cold when he listened.

"...Fortunately, it wasn’t as cold as when we were ashore." Ning Zhou said and added seriously, "Really."

Qi Leren was skeptical. Even though he had been baptized by Maria's power and had a strong resistance to low temperature, Leviathan had left a psychological shadow on him in their fight underground. Under that terrible temperature, it seemed that the human soul would be frozen and crack. Neverland was in the polar regions, and the temperature of the polar night was also terrible. Even the polar days weren’t much better.

Enjoying swimming in the winter in Neverland... It was really a hardcore hobby.

"It must be very cold once you come out. After going under? You must freeze as soon as the wind blows, right?" Qi Leren is getting colder and colder.

"If you wipe your body with ice and snow first, it will soon heat up," Ning Zhou said.

Qi Leren was really shaking now, rubbing his hands and saying, "I feel cold now!"

Ning Zhou immediately reached over and wrapped his rubbing hands: "Is it still cold?"

Qi Leren froze, and the body temperature of another person was warm against his hand, which made him really shiver. The two people were motionless together, holding hands together for a long time without separating.

Ning Zhou's eagle flew in from outside, and landed on the railing of the terrace. It walked from one end of the railing to the other with his head held high, and then turned and walked back in a different posture. However, no matter how coquettish and enchanting it was, these two people ignored it. It was so angry that it began to tell the time: "Two o'clock, two o'clock, staying up late to die suddenly, endangering health!"

It really spoiled the mood, and Qi Leren glared at it gloomily: "It's late, we should go back to sleep."

"Hmm."

Actually, both of them didn't want to sleep. But considering each other's health, they left the terrace tacitly, crossed the living room, and came to the two bedrooms that were side by side.

Two bedrooms separated by only one wall.

"Goodnight," Qi Leren said with difficulty.

"Well, good night," Ning Zhou also said.

I said good night and should go back to my room to sleep, but a feeling of reluctance overwhelmed him. Qi Leren looked at his toes and said, "Sweet dreams."

"...You too."

It was really time to go this time, but after a few hours, they could sit together for breakfast again. Compared with the long separation before, such short hours were just a blink of an eye.

But they were still loath to give them up.

"What do you... what do you want to eat tomorrow?" Qi Leren asked.

"Anything's fine," Ning Zhou said.

The evening breeze blew all the way from the open door of the terrace to them, and the first light from far away projected the gauze curtain on the clean marble floor. The soft mood was like a lingering love song playing continuously, while they were like people sitting aimlessly on the bus in the afternoon, listening to the little love song drowsily in the warm sunshine, half dreaming and half waking, only thinking about this song. Don't wake up from this dream. Don't wait for the bus to reach its station.

"Then... then I’ll go to sleep." At this moment, Qi Leren restrained many impulses, such as telling him he was afraid to have nightmares, admitting that he still wanted to talk, and kissing Ning Zhou's beautiful blue eyes.

He tried to treat this relationship in a mature way, and he also tried to make himself behave properly enough. Therefore, he held this treasure carefully, and only wanted to hold it firmly in his arms, but he was afraid that he would break it if he tried too hard.

"Well, then goodnight," Ning Zhou whispered.

Qi Leren had already rested his hand on the doorknob and pushed open the bedroom door. The imaginary gentle love song finally ended when the bus stopped, so he said softly, "Goodnight."

Ning Zhou also opened the door of the other bedroom. He said, "Goodnight."

This long farewell was finally over. Qi Leren, who closed the door, put his head on the door panel, cleared his mind, and pressed the weight of his body against the upper half of the door.

Qi Leren had the illusion that he had thought a lot, but felt that he hadn't thought anything. He wanted to recall the farewell with Ning Zhou just now, trying to find some inappropriate action, but as soon as he recalled it, he was knocked down by shy emotions.

It was probably that talking with Ning Zhou had relieved the mental stress he had been feeling. Now, Qi Leren really was a little sleepy. He dragged his tired feet and fell on the bed, slowly moving towards the side against the wall until he reached the innermost part of the bed.

He had seen the layout of Ning Zhou's bedroom before, and the bed was on the side against the wall. That is to say, at this time, they were only separated by one wall. If you spoke while in a dream, maybe the other person would hear it.

Thinking this, Qi Leren couldn't help laughing.

A brain washed by love always made the people who had fallen in love do some strange things, and Qi Leren was no exception. He slept in the bed on this side against the wall, reached out, and quietly drew a heart on the cold wall.

When he realized what he was doing, he flung up the quilt and covered his face.

What the hell was he doing? Qi Leren let out a cry in his heart, half ashamed and half collapsed, and spontaneously formed two debate teams with an abnormal split in his mind to start quarreling about the topic of love.

Qi Leren felt obliged to be more mature, especially when it came to falling in love. He was four years older than Ning Zhou! Ning Zhou, who was only twenty-one this year, should still be a boy in college in the real world, and he had already entered the workforce. In terms of experience in love, both of them were tragically equal at zero, but Qi Leren had lived in the 21st century with modern information and open communication. His theoretical level beat Ning Zhou, who was almost equal to the man living in the medieval Vatican. Moreover, when studying, Qi Leren had still had many experiences of being chased by girls.

Even Qi Leren himself felt very strange. When boys the same age as him had been affected by hormones and began to desperately want to fall in love, he had not been attracted to the lovely young girls, and of course, he was not attracted to the same sex. Although sometimes he had seen friends showing love, he had had a feeling of "love is really good", but he had never started a relationship with someone he didn’t like purely to seek this feeling.

Maybe, before he realized it, he had been waiting for someone who was destined to appear, but the world was too big, and there were too few people one could meet in his life. How lucky would he be to find the right one?

But he had met him. This romantic miracle had consumed his whole life's luck—so that there was something wrong with his beloved’s gender—but he still felt lucky.

He should cherish this luck and protect Ning Zhou.

Along the way, Ning Zhou had really suffered too much. I really hope to make him happy... Half-asleep, Qi Leren finally fell into a deep sleep with this thought.

He had a dream.

It was not an endless near-death experience, but a very relaxed and happy dream.

In his dream, he "flew" in the blue sky and rode on the back of a black dragon.

The black dragon carried him from the ground, blasted away the land and mountains that blocked them, passed through underground lakes and flowing red lava, and they broke free from the bondage of gravity and marched fearlessly toward the sky.

The world was bright, clear, peaceful, and beautiful.

The wind under the clear sky blew his hair, and Qi Leren pushed the unruly hair on his forehead to the top of his head, watching the vast world under the rising sun, breathing the air that had no bloody smell, and being as happy as a child.

Flying at such a high height, the world under his feet was like a large sandbox, and the river reflecting the light of the sunrise spread from one end of the earth to the other end, like a ribbon shining with silver and blue light. In the vast wilderness, the earth was like an emerald carpet, but when a gust of wind blew, the carpet turned into green waves, rushing forward one after another. The peak of the mountain near the horizon was covered with a thin layer of ice and snow, but the foot of the mountain was full of colourful wildflowers...

The dragon flew over this reborn land, casting a cloud-like shadow, and then the sun shone brightly.

They flew too fast. In the blink of an eye, they have already passed through deserts and plains, and were still flying farther to the east. They might even fly over the vast sea and the fog at the end of the world, or they might fly towards the place where the sun, the moon, and the stars were located.

Where on earth were they going? The Qi Leren in the dream didn't know. He only feels that they were like this world...

Becoming one.

-----

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[mirohlixie]

Never Enough (Hyunlix) Pt. 1

Pairing: Felix x Hyunjin Word Count: 2.4K Genre: AU, love, dystopia

Synopsis: In a world where being different from the conventional gender and sexuality rules means death, the gay youngster Felix struggles to hide his true sexuality. He is doing well until he meets Hyunjin, an undercover hitman hired by the government to get rid of all the "different" people in hiding. The moment the two meet each other, both of their lives change forever, but will it be enough?

Content warnings: AU, homophobia, discrimination against LGBTQ+, explicit language.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~He looked up from his notebook, out of his window. The wind was blowing and rain was falling out of the sky in thick drops. The poor boy got bored from being inside all the time, but the weather wasn’t very forgiving. It had been like this for a couple of days now and it didn’t look like it was going to change soon.

“Felix,” a soft voice called from downstairs. “Do you want to come down for tea?” It was the same old story every day. He’d be in his room, usually reading or working on song lyrics all day. Some time afternoon his mother would start to wonder what he was doing up there all the time, and call him down for tea. He always said no, like he was going to do now. He simply didn’t feel like being among other humans.

All Felix longed for was to take a long walk, anywhere. Just him and nature and no other people. A place where he could be alone with his thoughts without feeling like it was a sin to even have them cross his mind. Because that was what his thoughts were: a sin. A boy like him should not be thinking about the things he thought of. Even better, it was forbidden. If anyone ever found out about the words dancing in his mind, he’d have to pay with his life.

At first, Felix had been pretty good at hiding his thoughts. He’d be among his family and laugh and have fun with them. However, as he grew up, he found it harder and harder not to let the words slip his mind. The safe storage that was once his head slowly began to deteriorate. His subconscious longed for the freedom that would come with the exposure of his secret. However, that moment could never exist. He didn’t want to die. Not because of this.

“Please Lix,” his mother called again. “You’re never downstairs anymore. You’re withering away in that room of yours. Wouldn’t you like to be with us just for a little? Just one cup of tea?” Felix knew his mother would keep asking until he’d give in, and he couldn’t give in.

Especially today his mind had been like a time bomb. Every time he looked in the mirror he had to withhold himself from saying those forbidden words. From saying those words that would essentially cost him his life. He could not even imagine what it would be like if he was among others. If his reflection alone was already enough to make him break, then what would a living human being do to him? How would he ever be able to resist their curiosity?

“No,” he called down. “I’m about to go on a walk,” it was an impulsive excuse and he hadn’t known why exactly he’d thought it would be the perfect one. However, now he’d already said it and had to follow through with the plan. He hopped from his bed and quickly put on a pair of shoes. He looked out the window, sighing when he saw the rain, and sprinted down the stairs to put on a coat.

“In this kind of weather?” His mother questioned, raising an eyebrow as she saw her son appear in the hallway. “It’s raining cats and dogs.”

“I know, but I like the rain,” Felix lied. “So I’m going on a walk. I’ll be back before dark, mom,” he zipped his coat and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek before walking out the front door.

The cold wind hit him in the face like a brick and he had to take a deep breath before he could find the courage to actually walk down the driveway and leave the perimeters of his parents’ house.

“I like the rain,” he muttered to himself as he pulled the hood of his coat closer to his face and started to conquer the strong winds fighting for dominance over him. “I’m such a bad liar.”

It was empty in the streets, which was perfect. The last thing Felix needed now was encountering someone he knew. He wanted to be alone. Completely alone. The rain started to get less intense the more he walked, which was a welcome change. The wind still stayed the same, pulling at his clothes and trying to push him back towards his home.

He loved the thundering sounds the moving air brought with it. It completely masked any other sound coming from him and his surroundings. It made him feel safe; safer than he was at home. Safer than he was anywhere.

Here he’d be able to speak his mind without care. Here he’d be able to be himself just for a second. He took a deep breath, looked around him, and smiled a little before uttering the dangerous words.

“I am different,” he whispered at first. Fear grabbed him by the throat as he checked his surroundings again, afraid someone would’ve caught him anyway, but there was nobody there. “I like men,” he elaborated. “I am a sinner because I like men instead of women,”

To Felix, it was hideous that this detail about himself could cost him his life. Unfortunately, it was the truth. Having a sexual and romantic attraction to people of the same sex was not allowed. Falling for or having a relationship with someone of the same sex was not allowed.

It was crazily old-fashioned and absolutely the highest form of discrimination, but yes; your sexuality could get you killed. If you were pleaded guilty of being "different", it meant immediate death, as ridiculous as that may sound. No trial, no bail. If there were enough grounds to convince the government you were gay, you were done for.

Not only men loving men or women loving women suffered this tragic and brutal fate, but every person who was different. Every person who didn't fit the standard boxes of society, the standard boxes being women loving men and men loving women. There was no room for nuisance.

Why these rules existed in today’s day and age? Nobody knew. The simple answer was that it had always been like that. People who were different were a threat. People who were different didn't have a right to walk this earth. To them, the lives lost did not matter, which was absolutely disgusting in Felix’s opinion.

To them, it was merely a way to make sure the earth wouldn’t get overcrowded. The way Felix saw it, they were just scared of change. In ancient times it had been normal to be a man romantically involved with another man. It was the modern-day society that had made it into a sin. The few people who rejected this idea and showed resistance awaited the same fate as these "different" people. Nobody was safe, so it was better to pretend you agreed with it.

Felix's parents also lived by these rules, so ever since Felix found out his preference wasn't towards women, he'd hidden from them. They couldn't find out, or they would probably report him to the state. Their own son meant nothing to them if he was different.

Of course, tracking down every single "different" person was difficult, and seemed nearly impossible, since you’re not exactly born with a sign on your head that says you’re different. However, the government had its ways to track you down, may it be legal or illegal. These ways were sneaky and far from agreeable. You never knew who you could trust and who not. Living in this world was a true hell for people like Felix, but there was nothing they could do.

“I’m fucking different!” Felix shouted into the wind, knowing nobody could hear him here with the wind raging around him. “I like men and there’s nothing I can do!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you sure you accept the terms and conditions of this task?” The lady on the phone had asked him for the tenth time. “Are you sure you are willing to take this task upon you and deal with the consequences that may come with it?” Hyunjin had nodded before realizing she would not be able to see that.

“Yes, ma’am,” he’d said. “I accept all of it. I am ready, I promise,” he’d looked at the booklet that had fallen onto the doormat this morning. He’d been waiting for it for a while now and today had been the day it had finally arrived. He’d almost jumped when he’d heard the sound of the booklet hitting the fabric. It was dumb and he knew that, but to him, this seemed like the only option.

It was fucked up, Hyunjin knew that and would never try to deny it. However, he needed the money he’d get out of it. Not for himself, but for his mother. His dear mother, the woman who’d raised him to be the man he was today, was a sickly woman now. She’d been diagnosed with a rare disease that could only be helped with expensive treatment. Without the treatment, the chances she’d not see the end of the year were very big. If she did get the treatment, it would give her the rest of her life back.

That’s all Hyunjin wanted for her; She had to see him grow up. She had to see her grandchildren grow up. He couldn’t lose her, not in a society like this one.

“Ten grant,” he’d whispered to himself. That was what he’d receive if he went through with this. It was enough to pay for his mother’s treatment and her medicine. It would be enough to keep her alive. It would cost him a part of himself, but that would be worth it if he was able to save the woman who meant the most to him. But was ten grant enough in exchange for a life? Because that was what this task entailed…

The task he was about to accept, was that of a hitman. The government granted rewards of ten thousand dollars to those who were willing to go undercover and find out which members of their society did not follow the law concerning sexuality. Well, those who found them received only three thousand. Those who then also managed to end those so-called moles would receive the full ten grant. His job would be to be among the people and find out who was hiding their true, forbidden sexuality and to simply end their lives.

The government needed undercover hitmen like this because there were way too many moles for their normal police forces. The standard procedure was execution in the name of the state, according to the legal methods, like they to criminals who got the death sentence

These hitmen were different. Their methods were technically illegal, but if they got caught, they would be let off again before they could even go into trial. The government would close their eyes for crimes like the murder of these moles as long as the hit-man had an official permit given to them by the state. These hitmen were highly necessary since there was no way the government could punish every single mole, and other than that they'd gotten better at hiding their true nature as well.

“Then I would like to congratulate you with your permit,” the lady on the phone had said. “You know how it works. Find someone you think is suspicious, figure out whether they genuinely are or not, and then eventually end their life. Send the body over to the morgue and receive your ten grant. Try not to get caught. It's such a hassle to make them drop the charges,” she’d explained once more. “If you have any questions, do call us. The last thing I would like to add, is that the most important aspect of this job is instinct. Make sure you follow it. Don’t be a fool. Don’t ignore the signs.”

“But how will I be certain if it’s one of them?” Hyunjin had questioned. That’s what the moles were often referred to: them. Not us, but the other.

“You will know,” the lady had assured him. “I promise. I have to move on to the next call now. I wish you much wisdom and luck, Hwang Hyunjin. We are looking forward to seeing your first catch soon,” and with that, she’d ended the call. Hyunjin had sat on the couch and contemplated the idea for the rest of the morning, fumbling around with the permit that had just been activated in his hands.

Was he actually going to kill someone only because of their sexuality? He knew they were deemed evil. They were different, that's what everyone had always been told over the past centuries. They didn’t deserve a place in this society, according to the government. It was never completely explained why this difference from the rest was such a bad thing. They were still people, weren't they? Was he really capable of taking another human’s life?

He shook the thought off as he was walking outside in the rain with his hood pulled over his hair a couple of hours after the call. He needed the money, so he was going to succeed. He didn’t care how much it would cost him, or how long it was going to take him to find someone. He was going to try the best he could and that was all he could promise right now. After all, it would take a while before he’d find the first person, wouldn’t it? They were called moles for a reason.

That’s what Hyunjin thought before he saw him; the person who would change his life forever. The person that truly caught his attention. At first, he thought he was just looking at the back someone who had lost his mind, yelling meaningless words into the wind, but when he listened more closely, alarms should’ve started to ring immediately in the back of his head.

“I’m fucking different!” The figure with the blonde hair yelled into the wind, probably thinking nobody would be able to hear him over the loud thundering of the air. “I like men and there’s nothing I can do!” Hyunjin bit his lip. Bingo, he thought. This was going to be easier than he’d expected.

[spookybias]

ᝰ frozen ideals | park sunghoon ˎˊ˗

paring: park sunghoon x gender neutral! reader

genre: slice of life ─ fluff, slight angst

content: idol! sunghoon x figure skater! reader, more than friends but less than lovers au, i ramble a bit about what a home is.

synopsis: sunghoon revisits the ice rink, and after seeing you, begins to have doubts on what he really wants in life.

word count: 2.7k

note: this only took a couple of days, so it’s not my best work. i kind of overdid it i guess? this was supposed to be short, but i just couldn’t stop. i also cried while writing a couple of paragraphs of this lol. one more thing, i’m not the best with endings, so i’m not sure if you guys will understand it. it is happy, though.

SUNGHOON DIDN'T VISIT THE ICE RINK AS OFTEN AS HE BEFORE. During his figure skating career, he was often at the ice rink at least 3-4 times a week. Sometimes before school hours, other times after school hours, and many times during school hours. If he thought his life as a professional figure skater was busy, his belief had changed once advancing from trainee to applicant to contestant, and finally, to idol.

Sunghoon’s time was divided between training, schoolwork, competitions, and every now and then, interviews.

His schedule was now made up of all the tasks of a predebut idol. There were photoshoots, interviews, and vocal and dance practices to attend. His free time was given away, -but only out of love for his fans- to sudden vlive sessions and random social media updates. he rarely ever had time to himself nowadays, as even what was left after all of his daily routines and weekly events was often used to eat, freshen up, and rest. And none of this would compare to the schedule that was to come once him and the boys made their debut.

There were times where he thought back to his days on the ice; what would life be like if he hadn’t quit figure skating?

It had been a long time since he had visited the ice rink, and while all the other boys used their one free day off in a while to visit their family back home, or to hang out with their old friends at their favorite place, Sunghoon found himself back at the ice rink. But who’s to say that this favorite place of his that he spent many times at alone, wasn’t his home?

Home isn’t where you live. No, that was your apartment, your house, your condo or your space at the shelter, maybe even the streets. Home is the place that provides you with a sense of security, an overwhelming amount of happiness, a much more avaliable version of cloud 9. Even when you’ve been there twenty times in one week, forty times in one month, the place still feels like a new visit each time. That’s a home.

Often, it isn’t what you do at said place that makes it a home. It’s the safe space founded by the very things about that place that make you happy. The angle at which the lights hit, the background noise that boasts behind you when you’re having fun, the people inhabiting the environment. All these things still feel new, but recognizable every time you visit.

This was the case for Park Sunghoon. You were his safe space.

The ice rink was nearly empty except for you, your coach, and the advisor who kept watch to make sure there weren’t any mishaps in the rink. This wasn’t meant to be a private meeting. You almost always arrived as soon as the rink opened, and so there were never really people there.

Sunghoon had shown up out of the blue after waking up with a sudden urge to visit the rink. It wasn’t until he stood in the seating area, looking over the frost, did he realize how much he missed. He remembered the goosebumps that grazed his skin when the chilly air hit his bare arms and the numb feeling you get on your butt when you land on it after falling back.

He longed for it all, but maybe not enough to quit his new career.

You noticed the lanky boy outside the rink after landing a toe loop. You were a skater, sure, but you weren’t the most coordinated one. You had often made it to competitions with Sunghoon, but you wouldn’t ever make it as far as he did. Still, you loved ice skating, and you would only get better.

That being said, you hadn’t gotten better just yet and were easily distracted. Skidding to a halt, you cheerfully waved to Sunghoon. “Hi, Hoonie!” That meant your eyes were off the cracking ice in front of you, and you tripped, flying forward.

Sunghoon rushed out onto the ice, panic gracing his features. He was accustomed to the ice, and carefully but quickly made it to you in his converse.

“____, are you okay?” Sunghoon didn’t wait for an answer, wrapping one of your arms around his neck and hoisting you up bridal style. “I haven’t seen you in months, and when I finally do I cause an accident.” He shook his head.

You chuckled at his self-disappointment. You waited for him to put you down on the bleachers before telling him, “It wasn’t that big of a deal Sunghoon. I’ve fallen hundreds of times. Ninety out of a hundred of those times, you weren’t there to help me.”

“If it was no big deal, then why did you need me to carry you off the ice?”

You smiled mockingly, eyes shut tight and lips pressed together, a compressed smile at its finest. “I didn’t. I just wanted a free ride.”

Sunghoon shook his head, laughing. His laugh was light like a feather, quiet like a baby’s snore. “You always were lazy,” He replied jokingly.

“Hey! I’ve been practicing really hard! Someone has to take your place, remember? And you’re not here to coach me anymore.”

It was true. After word got around that the Park Sunghoon had quit his career as a professional figure skater, everyone in you guys’ age range seemed to be fighting to be known as the best. For awhile, Sunghoon offered you tips and techniques for mastering his most known tricks. You were someone dear to him, and even when you guys were competing against each other, he secretly hoped you’d do better than him.

The young boy only got busier, though, and could no longer help you train.

“____!” You were snapped out of your conversation by your coach, Eunkyung. She walked up to the two of you. The way she eyed Sunghoon -a look of disbelief mixed with digust- made you gulp. “Stop fooling around. He isn’t here to train you anymore, therefore, he’s wasting valuable time.”

You knew how Eunkyung felt towards Sunghoon. She had dreams of making it as big as him when she was the same age, but couldn’t due to financial situations. Seeing someone who had everything she wanted in a figure skating career give it all up irked her soul. She had openly voiced her opinions on Park Sunghoon to you and the other trainees.

“Please, Eunkyung.” You begged in a low voice, but Sunghoon could still hear. Something about you begging Eunkyung to let him stay made his heart flutter. “We hardly see each other anymore. I really missed him.”

That was it. Sunghoon’s ears were suddenly on fire. When had you gotten so bold?

“Fine. Thirty minutes. Don’t expect another break today because this is the only one you’ll be getting.” Eunkyung walked off muttering something about ungrateful teens and the next competition being in three weeks.

You began to move from the bench Sunghoon had dropped you off at, but immediately sat back down, a hiss escaping your lips.

“You said you were fine.” Sunghoon placed a protective hand on your shoulder, as if the pain was a person making their way towards you.

“I am fine.” You stared out onto the ice trying to wiggle out the static shooting through your leg.

“That isn’t the kind of sound people make when they’re fine, ____. I’ll get Eunkyung.”

“No.” Your voice was firm. “It’s just a cramp, Sunghoon. You know figure skaters get cramps.”

Sunghoon stood quietly, looking down at you, but you avoided eye contact. “Okay.”

“I get them a lot. Eunkyung says it’s because I don’t stretch enough beforehand. We used to stretch together, remember? But you’re not here anymore so I forget.” The statement sounded more spiteful than you intended.

Sunghoon wondered if you were mad at him, and hiding your anger with fake excitement towards seeing him again. Did you secretly wish that he had never come back?

You kept bringing up the past and reminding him that he wasn’t around anymore. It was times like these where he questioned what he really wanted.

The two of you sat in silence. Just basking in each other’s existence was enough. That’s what was so mesmerizing about your friendship. Sometimes all the two of you did was sit next to each other, and it felt like so much fun.

“It’s been awhile, huh, ice prince?” You broke the silence and smiled playfully. “Did you miss me?” Your tone was teasing when you asked, but deep down you knew that if the answer was no your heart would shatter.

Sunghoon didn’t bother to even fight back. “Yeah, I did.” He liked it when you called him ice prince. It could get him to admit anything. It could even make him admit he was in love with you, but you didn’t need to know that.

“You never text me anymore.” He couldn’t figure out if it was a normal statement or a sad one. “I know you’re busy, though.” He exhaled being grateful for that add-on. “What’s it like?”

“I love it.” Sunghoon simply stated. You hardly even finished asking the question when he had answered. “It’s a lot of work, and sometimes I can’t believe I made it, but I love it.”

“You love Jake especially too, right?” You teased.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

“You know I’m kidding,” You shook your head, laughing. Sunghoon missed hearing your laugh. The audio recordings from old videos of you two together just weren’t enough for him anymore.

“You know you’re the only…” Sunghoon trailed off and looked away. Talking about his feelings for you was difficult for him. It was difficult for you too. You didn’t need him to finish his sentence. Of course, you often needed reassurance that you hadn’t been replaced, but just the first few words of his statement were enough. You knew what he meant.

He was the only one for you too.

“Do you think what I’m doing is right?” Sunghoon suddenly questioned. For some reason he was holding back a sob, and he wasn’t sure why.

You stared at a scrape in the ice for a moment, before finally turning to the boy of your dreams. “Yes.” You nodded your head, smiling. “I watch your vlives and read your interviews and I retweet all your photos and cheer on all your moments.”

A single tear slipped down your cheek. You were happy for Sunghoon, but it hurt that he was doubting his desires after a long time of trying to prove himself.

You continued, “Sometimes my friends tell me I’m whipped, but I’m just really happy for you, Hoonie. So please don’t doubt yourself.”

Sunghoon was glad that only one tear had escaped. He didn’t want you to cry over him. “There are days where I try to imagine what life would be like if I was still here. Skating with you and everyone else.”

You replied almost instantly. “Well stop imagining those things. You’re not here anymore. You can’t let what you thought you wanted interfere with what you really want. You didn’t leave anyone or anything behind. It’s not like you forgot about this place. We still love you, and we’re rooting for you and always have been. You spent so long trying to prove yourself to everybody. Don’t let those years be in vein. If you quit, I swear I’ll-”

“I’m not going to quit.” Sunghoon stopped you. “If you’re proud of me, then I must be doing the right thing.”

You let out a breath and smiled, turning away from the boy once again. “Ideals change, ice prince. You’re allowed to change.”

Sunghoon looked over at you, noting how you avoided eye contact. He found it really cute. “Thank you, ____.” The two of you shared a smile, and then Sunghoon looked down to your left leg. “How is it? Is the cramp gone?”

You stood up, wiggled your left foot, and hopped on your left leg for good measure. “Yep! Think we can go around the rink for a bit before my break is up?”

Sunghoon’s cheeks turned pink. “Are you asking me out?”

You tightened your laces and laughed. “I would never."

SUNGHOON SKATED BESIDE YOU. This wasn’t a date. Despite your hands clasped together tightly but comfortably and the statements shared between the two of you earlier, you and Sunghoon were not a thing. The two of you were just a couple of friends who almost had something due to your shared interest and quiet bonding. You loved each other and it wasn’t complicated, but it was uncharted territory neither of you were ready to enter.

You skidded to a stop. “I’ve been practicing really hard,” You told Sunghoon again. You skated circles around him. “Eunkyung says that with a couple more months of training, I can make it farther than you ever did.”

“Is that a threat?” Sunghoon began following after you, the two of you facing each other, skating sideways to form a small circle around the spot you guys had just been standing in.

“Yes, it is.” You stuck your tongue out at him. “But seriously. It’s so much work ‘cause you’re known for doing the most.” You rolled your eyes, remembering the countless laps Eunkyung made you skate around the ice rink. You brightened up when you remembered something else. “I’ve been getting a lot better at salchows, though, which we all know I am terrible at. Look.”

Sunghoon watched in amazement as you skated around the rink, performing salchows over and over again. Your landings were a little slopping, but you could easily fix that.

“I wanna show you something else before you go.” Suddenly Sunghoon remembered that he had to leave soon, as your break would be up, and he had to see his mother in a bit. He followed you out the ice rink.

You opened your backpack, which Sunghoon had just now noticed was left out on the bleachers. He would have to remind you not to do that. If the rink got crowded, someone could steal your stuff. You pulled out a black notebook and handed it to Sunghoon.

He opened the notebook, puzzled at the lines and numbers all over the pages along with little doodles. However, his confusion went away once he realized that the little doodles were diagrams of figure skating tricks, and the lines and numbers all matched up to physics calculations.

“After you left, I honestly forgot a lot of your tips. It was hard using your methods without you being around to coach me.” You looked down at your hands. “I take physics in school, so I’ve been using it to help me with figure skating.”

Sunghoon was in awe. In his mind, he had been selfish to keep wishing he could be back at the rink just to help you. If he had stayed, he would just be stopping you from finding your own techniques, from realizing your full potential. He now realized that he didn’t have to keep worrying about if you were okay. You were doing just fine without him, and although that thought would be negative to most, Sunghoon was proud of you.

“____, this is amazing.”

“You don’t think it’s nerdy?”

“Of course not. You’re a genius,” Sunghoon stated. The embarrassment that had just filled your senses was quickly replaced by fluster. “Um, thanks, Hoonie.”

The two of you continued to flip through the book together, you pointing out tiny notes that you wanted Sunghoon to see, and him asking questions and nodding his head in intrigue. Sunghoon flipped to the most recent diagram, and examined the page.

“What’s this?” Sunghoon pointed to a diagram of a trick he had never seen before.

“Oh! Eunkyung says that if I want to stand out I should combine a couple of moves and form my own tricks, and name them something cool. I need to show the judges how I stand out from the other contestants.” You looked over the page, and caught a small note in your handwriting. Suddenly feeling nervous, you tried to change the subject. “Uh, why don’t we skate some more.”

Sunghoon glanced at you before scanning the page once more. And then he saw it. The diagram was a mix of a salchow and a toe loop, two moves Sunghoon was very much known for perfecting. Under the diagram were two words that made Sunghoon’s heart flutter.

Ice Prince.