#none of them are more than rated T id say

[vaaaaaiolet]

Sleep-deprived Leon's upstairs neighbor works late 'cause she's a singer on a deadline, and he's having none of it. He comes up with a wild solution to the problem in a moment of desperation, and he's surprised when you actually go along with it, but anything to get a full night's sleep, right? Then he finds himself wanting a bit more than camaraderie with you in the process.

f/m, romance, fluff, does this count as crack??? popstar reader w/ a twist, ID leon is USELESS w tech + lives under a ROCK, also you manic pixie dream girl a bit too close to the sun but it's ok bc ur cute LOL

word count: 2.6k // read this chapter on ao3

a/n: req fic + belated bday gift for my lovely 🍍 anon!! as usual i got carried away and butchered it. um. NOTHING makes sense just go w the vibes i beg you </3 pt. 2 coming out asap bc this fic will not leave me alone in the best way :)

chapter one

Rule of thumb: don’t bang on the first date. 

Leon’s wrapping his pillow around his head like a pair of goddamn Beefs (or is Beets? those tacky, overpriced- oh, forget it) while his upstairs neighbor gives her bed a run for its money on a Friday night, at a blessed 9 PM no less. 

Oh yeah. Her.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump. 

R-rated suspicions aside, Leon tries hoping for the best. His new neighbor might just be an interior designer of the nocturnal sort. Sick of his previous rowdy, college kid-infested apartment building, he’d moved into this complex not too long ago thanks to a very politely-worded call to Hunnigan about open listings in quiet, senior citizen-friendly neighborhoods. Call him old, call him boring, but after a long day of running around saving humanity from the newest bioweapon to hit the market, all Leon ever wants to do these days is get a few winks of sleep. He’s pushing 30. Insomnia’s no fountain of youth, people. 

Thump, thump-thump-thump. 

New Girl upstairs seemed to have the same idea but with far more nefarious intent. She’d moved in at the same time as him, he’s sure – Leon saw a flash of her face a few days ago when she was lugging boxes of stuff into the elevator up to her floor. She’s the only sign of life from the 21st century he’s encountered since the day he came to sign his lease papers. Why? 

Because Hunnigan had fulfilled his request to a T. Leon’s new apartment building is long-term care home adjacent. 

Full of grandmas and grandpas who got about as loud as their record players, only leaving their homes to fetch the mail – telegrams by the wrinkles on some of them. It was perfect. Leon was positively thrilled when Eunice from Unit 202 very, very slowly, waved hello to him on his moving day.

THUMP-THUMP! THUMP-THUMP!

And then she happened.

Maybe he’s just a grumpy old man right where he belongs, in all his 29-and-a-half glory. But the pounding that girl is giving her bed with some frat boy right now is giving Leon the college dorm experience all over again. It takes him half an hour of tossing and turning in his sheets to throw on an old jacket, beeline to the elevator, punch the neon 3 button, and darken New Girl’s doorstep. 

His turn now. A quick knock, knock is enough for Unit 304’s door to open a crack.

“Hey, I’m from downst- oh my God, are you decent?”

And you, standing at the door in a dress that’s more sheer than his disbelief, only tilt your head to go, “Huh?” 

“Listen, I know tomorrow’s the weekend but I- shit,” his face burns, “could you keep it down, please? You guys are really loud and it’s late.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You- you and whoever you’re with, could you not do this right now?” Leon croaks. 

Your hands flail wildly in dismissal. “Oh no, that was just me jumping on my bed! Helps with my creative process,” you say, smiling weakly. “I didn’t know the floors were that thin, I’m sorry.”

Bullshit. “They are.” Leon grimaces, “And um, it’s fine if you guys are loud, just save it for when everyone’s asleep next time.”

A frown interrupts your smile. “I just said it was me. There’s no one else here, seriously.”

“So what’s with the getup?”

“The-” your eyes drift down to the near see-through of your dress and Leon gestures vaguely, as if you need more explanation to why he’s avoiding eye contact with your chest. “Oh, this?”

He nods. 

“Creative process!” you chirp brightly.

“For what, pray tell?”

Curiously, that puts the wind out of your sails. Suddenly you having trouble meeting Leon’s eyes, lashes fluttering as you look up, down, anywhere that’s not his face. 

“For school,” you finally make out, fingers wrapping around the edge of your door. “I’m a music major.”

Pianos and prancing on beds don’t exactly mix. He can’t help but squint at you. “And the jumping helps with…?”

“Getting past writer’s block!” 

Back to bubbly with the ball in your court, you go so far as to open your door a little further to explain. Leon’s cheeks blaze as he tries his damndest to keep his eyes from drifting south. 

“I read online that moving around helps with ideas, and I’m supposed to have a whole album written by the end of the week. I probably shouldn’t have procrastinated…” you trail off with a half-hearted chuckle, “so now I’m throwing everything at the wall to see what sticks, y’know?”  

He hums. “You wanna be a singer?” 

“Mhm!” Your updone hair bobs with you, reminding him a little of a bobblehead. It’s almost cute enough to make his AMs worthwhile.

“Then you better start singing somewhere else, sweetheart. The walls are just as thin as the floors.” 

And Leon immediately turns his ass around to go back to sleep.

In hindsight, it might’ve been a little mean of him to leave like that. But his bed is just so heavenly, and with the sleep deprivation he’s been racking up lately, Leon’s half sure he just dreamed that entire exchange. There’s no way a girl like you in college – in her 20s, give or take – is seriously jumping on her bed on a Friday night for a homework assignment. That too in a dress fit for the club to add to the irony. Are all creatives this weird?

He pinches the bridge of his nose as the elevator descends, pushing aside his last glimpse of the glum expression he left you with in your doorway. So much for first impressions. But hey, you didn’t really make a great one either. He’ll call it even. Maybe get you a gift basket for chivalry’s sake.

He considers all this as he slips back under his blankets, finally, at 9:45 PM.

And then he hears a creeeaaak.

“Please,” Leon groans, jamming his pillow over his ears. 

Thump…thump?

Nix the gift basket.

6:00 AM on Saturday finds Leon with his eyes wide open and glazed insomniac red.

His alarm blares as if to say, you actually thought you’d need to get woken up, didn’t you?

It’s a little patronizing. He teaches it a lesson by throwing it off his nightstand.

Sometime between 11 and 12 at night, you’d gotten bored of your bed and taken to something with wheels. An office chair is Leon’s best guess. You’d rolled across your floor all night, and the resulting clatter of plastic grating on hardwood had kept him awake until the sunrise. Hangovers were more pleasant than the night of sleep (or lack thereof) he’d just gotten, and Leon’s no wimp. He’s a man, goddamnit. A decorated government agent!

So he handles the problem at its source. Whips out his flip phone like a man, and makes a very important call.

A disgruntled female voice crackles through at the first ring. “May I remind you that this line’s only for emergencies, Leon?”

“It is! I need you to find me another apartment, Hunnigan, please,” Leon sits up, rubbing his eyes to plead his case to an unimpressed Ingrid Hunnigan. “My upstairs neighbor won’t let me sleep. The floors are thin as hell and she’s been moving around all night. It’s even worse than my last place.”

“Really? An old lady is giving you that hard of a time?” 

“She’s college age — a singer — and when she starts singing for her homework all the time, I’m really not going to get any sleep. I’m begging you, Hunnigan. Get me out of here.” 

“Strange.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Truly,” Hunnigan deadpans. “You know how hard of a time I had getting you into an apartment building only for people over 55, Leon?” 

He winces, holding the phone a little further from his ears just in case. 

“How many favors I had to cash in, strings I had to pull, all because you’re hopeless at navigating an apartment listing site, let alone anything on the Internet? Do you realize I had to do that in my personal time because your request would fall under illegal use of federal intelligence resources?”

Leon falters. “I didn’t-”

“So here’s what you’re going to do,” Hunnigan says shortly. “You are going right back to your neighbor and working out a solution like an adult.”

“But I already-”

“You’re solving this on your own, Leon. Figure something out because I know you can delegate. Got it?”

He really doesn’t. He’s only good at that outside of the US.

“Is that clear, Agent Kennedy?” Hunnigan repeats for semantic measure.

“Crystal,” Leon mopes, sapped of all hope when she ends the call with a ‘good luck’, just like back in Spain. A familiar routine.

He’s back in front of Unit 304 by 9:00 AM. 

You open your door with a half-chewed yawn, wrapped in a robe and looking deceptively angelic, that is, if it weren’t for the immediate pinch your pretty brows take on when you grace him with a decidedly sour look. 

“Up already?” Leon tries.

This time all he gets in response is a quick nod, a mouth parted in distaste. 

Forward march, Kennedy.

“You were up past midnight. I heard you, y’know, on your chair. Kinda loud.”

“I’m not annoying you on purpose,” you sigh, tucking your arms into a tight cross over the fluff of your robe. “I just really have to turn my album in on time and I’m having crazy writer’s block. They told me the people here are quiet and easygoing. I haven’t had a single noise complaint so far except for you, did you know that?” 

“That’s because everyone in this building either has hearing aids or doesn’t realize they need them yet,” Leon grits. “I don’t even know how you got in here, to be honest.”

“A sparkling letter of recommendation, thank you very much. And you?” You push up on your toes indignantly. “Are you just older than you look? ‘Cause you might need a pair of hearing aids yourself.”

Leon bites back a scoff. “Don’t need ‘em. I can hear you plain as day from below.”

Sirens are starting to blare in his head and it’s like he can feel Hunnigan glaring at him from her HQ in the sky. Aborting mission again isn’t an option. If Leon doesn’t fix things now, he’d be starting bad blood that might outlast the combined remaining lifespans of the building’s tenants. His salary could cover rent that long; his ego, not so much.

You’re about two seconds away from shutting your door in Leon’s face before he interrupts with a save pulled straight from his ass: “I’ll help you write your songs.”

So instead, you squawk, “What?”

He sticks the toe of his shoe in your doorjamb for insurance. Blurts, “I mean it. I’ll help you come up with ideas.”

“How on Earth would you do that?”

Great question. No better time than the present for the both of you to find out. 

“You said moving around helps?” Leon repeats for you to confirm with a quizzical nod, “I’ll take you anywhere you want. Anywhere in the city, you name it, I’ve got a motorcycle I’ll get you there on. It’ll be a change of scenery. Just whatever you do, enough with the gymnastics at midnight.”

It’s a desperate lifeline, a creepy one now that he’s had more than two seconds to think about it, but a lifeline nonetheless.

And to his horror, all you do is stare. 

The resulting silence feels like crystallizing amber. A clock ticks agonizingly from somewhere in your living room. Tick, tick, shit, he desponds. But thankfully, your laugh bubbles out not a moment too soon, sending a tsunami of relief down his shoulders. 

“Gymnastics, really?” you snort, covering your mouth with a well-manicured hand.

“I’m serious.” Leon shoots for a winning smile. “But I have to ask, is working late also part of your creative process?”

Your eyes crinkle maybe, but you shake your head no. 

“Then we’ll go whenever you’re free. Show you a few of my favorite spots, see if it speeds up your songwriting. Sound okay, sweetheart?” 

“How about now?” you pipe up.

Leon coughs his splutter into something more dignified. 

“You said whenever I was free! It’s a Saturday, you’re free,” you point a finger at his chest, “I’m free,” turn it back on yourself, “and I need to finish writing my album by, like, yesterday. This is perfect!” With a miniscule squeal, you disappear back into your apartment.

Leon’s left standing in your entryway wondering when his lifeline became a dynamite detonation cord.

“You haven’t even asked me my name,” he calls out to deaf ears. Cups his hands for effect because he can hear you flinging hangers onto the floor. “Don’t they teach you about stranger danger at school?” 

“I’ll find out eventually!” floats back your worrying response.

You’re an efficient dresser, Leon gives you that. A thankfully normal one too at the dress and heels you rush back up to the door with. A large pair of cat-eye sunglasses perched on the bridge of your nose makes Leon do a double take at the cloudy sky outside, but then again, maybe it’s another part of your creative process. Beyond his pay grade.

You adjust your sunnies with gusto, grin up at him when he gives you a curious look. 

“Well, go on,” you say, pulling out your phone. 

Leon blinks at the glowing rectangle.

“Number, name?” You tilt it as if you’re trying to entice a toddler. “I can’t just keep calling you Mr. Noise Complaint.”

“Aw, you’ve been telling your friends about me?” Leon chuckles at last, pulling out his flip phone and handing it to you.  

And suddenly it’s your turn to stare at a piece of foreign technology.

You take your sweet time putting in your number. It’s very entertaining, the way the tip of your tongue sticks out the tiniest bit when you make a mistake and the sound of furious keypad backspacing follows right after. Leon’s no better, setting himself on your phone as “LOEN KEENAYD”, and with his pride bordering on hubris, he has no choice but to keep it that way.

“Really small backspace key,” he fibs when you peer at the gibberish in your contacts. 

Your lip bite makes for a piss-poor job of hiding how funny it is.  

“It’s Leon, by the way. Leon Kennedy. Apartment 204.” 

You fix his name in half the time it took him to put it in. He holds his hand out for a shake, timeless enough, and you give it three businesslike pumps.

“I have to grab a spare helmet from my place, I’ll meet you down at the garage,” Leon promises.

You point at him before stepping into the elevator. “Either your idea works or I’ll have to work past midnight to get this album done and then you’ll really owe me, Leon.” 

In another life, you could’ve been a CEO. You’ve certainly got the pointer finger for it. 

Leon tips his chin in acknowledgment. “Whatever it takes to get back into your good graces, ma’am,” he grins.

That gets a cackle out of you as the elevator doors slide shut.

And he takes the stairs this time, waves good morning to Eunice in 215 on his way to pick up that helmet for you. It must be a good day, Leon thinks, sounding out your name in his phone’s contacts. Eunice even has a post- Great Depression era vinyl playing on her record player. Maybe it’s a sign to not be so glum about his situation. He’s finally fixing it, isn’t he? 

So be it. A guy can dream. In Leon’s case, he’s hoping he gets eight hours by Monday.

psst, find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3 take care and i love you!

divider by @/saradika-graphics <3

[steviestits]

My God Longs For Me - Part 1.3

Written for an anon prompt, which can be read in its entirety on this fic’s masterpost.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Rating: T (E for later chapters) Summary: When Steve was a child, he was abducted and brought to the cult, the Hellfire Club, as he was prophesied to be the wife of the dark forest god they worshiped. Steve enjoyed his time there, especially the time he spent with the cult leader's nephew, Eddie. This wasn't meant to last however as Steve was eventually returned to his parents. Thanks to the deprogrammer that his parents hired and time, Steve has mostly forgotten the cult that raised him. That is until he goes on a camping trip and his friends start to get murdered one by one with the only connection between the killings being the ritual offerings to the cult's gods and the strange dreams Steve has before each one. Now Steve must piece together his past to discover who is murdering his friends in the present. (Inspired heavily by various horror movies and is a horror story itself.) Trigger Warning: None Eventual Trigger Warning: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Ritual Sacrifices, Gore, Mpreg, Body Horror, Monster Fucking, Feminization, Brainwashing

(Link to previous part)

Entering the bar, Steve looked around at the shabby wooden walls and cracked floorboards until his eyes landed on Billy and Tommy drunkenly playing pool. Steve tried to catch their eye and even called out to them, but they ignored him. The pool tables were situated on the furthest wall away from the bar, thankfully, but it did have a dingy yet still functional mirror hung up between the bottled of high-shelf (for this establishment anyway) alcohol, so there was no way they couldn’t see him no matter the angle. He took this to mean that they were actively ignoring him, and he honestly wished his dad had selected better friends for him.

“What a bunch of mouth-breathers,” the bartender said with a disappointed shake of his head.

Objectively good-looking, the bartender had long, dark brown curls that cascaded down his back, framing his lean face to make his chocolate brown eyes pop. A tight t-shirt with the logo of a band that Steve didn’t recognize was stretched across the man’s lean body, displaying every single one of his compact muscles. He wasn’t a name tag, but it wasn’t as Steve needed the other’s name as they wouldn’t be staying much longer in the bar anyway.

Steve strode over to the bar, leaning against the wooden counter with one elbow. The other man didn’t seem to mind and instead grabbed a rag to begin cleaning a few shot glasses in front of him. He didn’t say anything but continued to keep an eye on Billy and Tommy, glowering sourly at the pair as if expecting them to cause trouble.

“If they break anything, I’ll pay for it,” Steve offered sincerely.

“Why are you even friends with them? If you don’t mind me asking, because they seem like more trouble than they’re worth.”

“My dad picked them out for me, believe it or not. It’d be good for the company, is what he said. Improve our investments.”

“Your daddy picked them out? Seriously?” The bartender snorted. “Starting to think those ids they showed me were fake. Aren’t you all grown men?”

“Listen, man, I know. But you don’t know my dad. He can make your life a living Hell if he really sets his mind to it. Easier to just do what he asks.”

“You do something to piss him off then? Only reason I can think of that he’d let you and your friends camp out in these cursed woods.”

“He didn’t pick the location. My friend did. But what do you mean by cursed?”

The bartender raised an eyebrow. “You’re going camping out there, and you don’t even know the story of Hawkins Woods?”

“It’s not like it matters. Curses aren’t real.”

 “Isn’t that what everyone in a horror movie says right before they’re killed by the curse they were warned about?”

“That’s in the movies. This is real life.”

With a chuckle, the bartender asked, “Isn’t that what they say in the movies too, though?”

“Fine. Fair enough,” Steve relented. “What’s the story behind Hawkins Woods?”

“Well, you see, it started a few decades ago when the Hellfire Club built a commune just a few miles from here. People began disappearing when they went into the woods, and the ones that didn’t swore that they’d seen a horned being right out of the corner of their eye. They said it was the pagan god that the cult worshiped. Well, the police eventually cracked down on Hellfire, broke the whole thing up, but it only got worse. Instead of disappearances, people were dying, bodies mutilated beyond recognition. Thus, everyone in these parts believe that the Hellfire Club put a curse on these woods and that their god still walks between the trees.”

Frowning, Steve turned the story over in his head. He didn’t remember everything about the Hellfire Club, but he hadn’t thought that they were anywhere close to its location, especially since his dad wouldn’t have wanted to be within the cult’s reach, meaning he would’ve said something if the area was too close. On the other hand, the bartender had no reason to lie to him. What did the man have to gain by making him believe the cult was nearby? He guessed it could be a prank, but it wasn’t a funny one if it was.

“Listen, great story, but that’s all it is, a story.” Steve pushed himself away from the counter. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go collect my friends.”

“What friends?”

Steve opened his mouth to answer, but he looked up to see that the mirror no longer reflect Billy and Tommy. Glancing over his shoulder confirmed to Steve that they weren’t there anymore, which didn’t make sense. Even if they didn’t tell him they were leaving, he thought that he would’ve at least heard them since the two were never the quite type of drunks. He didn’t feel panicked, though. In fact, he actually felt relieved.

Billy was an asshole, and Tommy always sided with him since the jerk muscled his way into their group. Steve’s dad said that Billy was “assertive” and had a ruthlessness to him that he said Steve lacked, which was why he didn’t have a nose for business like the others. The comparison always irked Steve since he didn’t see how screwing people over or bullying them made someone a good business partner.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Who needs them?”

Hearing the bartender speak, Steve returned his attention to him only to find that his form was now twisting, growing larger until he was eerily looming over Steve. Branched, deer-like antlers crept out from underneath the other man’s curly hair while his clothes changed into robes that seemed to be made out of shadows. Then, through the darkness, a deathly pale hand nestled against Steve’s cheek, caressing it while he forced Steve to stare up into his fully black eyes.

It was then that Steve realized what was going on, and he leaned into the touch before he breathlessly whispered, “Eddie.”

Part 1.2 ~ Masterpost ~ Part 1.4

[aftgficrec]

Hii! I'm so glad i caught you guys, youre doing gods work over here. I've been wanting something similar to blame it on my youth and way down we go . Something long and addicting and eventually wholesome, preferably something where Aaron is kinda jealous of Neil. I love the soulmate idea. Thanks so much <3

You’ve got a mix of things in your ask, so I’m giving you long andeil fics with happy ending + Aaron angst that are post canon like ‘Blame it On My Youth’ (here), pre-canon canon divergent like ‘Way Down We Go’ (here), soulmates, and some other aus. -A

previous recs:

long fics like BIOMY here

‘Guardian Angel’ series here

‘on the tip of my tongue (say something)’ series here (completed)

‘progress comes in small steps’ series here

‘we were together’ series here

‘This Complicated Life’ and ‘In My Defense, I Have None’ here

you may also like:

Neil & Aaron: quests, situations, friendship & slash here

post canon:

Trust Fall (And Welcoming Arms) by SpangleBangle [Rated E, 84557 Words, Complete, 2017]

Life goes on after the Foxes win the championship, and for Andrew and Neil it's uncharted territory with only each other for guides. Maybe it's time to put away some of those hard edges, and learn how to touch more softly, and speak more honestly. And if they falter, they have their family to help them get back on their feet.

tw: scars, tw: homophobia, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: discussions of self harm, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced eating disorders, tw: depression, tw: dissociation, tw: flashbacks, tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced drug abuse, tw: explicit sexual content

pre-canon canon divergent:

Oakland by AgentCoop [Rated M, 105947 Words, Complete, 2023]

When Neil Josten gets arrested for a fake ID and thrown into the Juvenile Detention System, he knows that he's running on borrowed time before his father's men catch up. His mother is dead, there's nowhere to run, there's nothing left at all but an Exy court at the Oakland County Detention Center that he has to earn the right to play on through good behavior. And Neil's never been great at obeying rules. -- An Andriel AU where the boys meet as teens in Juvie.

tw: violence, tw: blood, tw: panic attacks, tw: nightmares, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon

Lifeline by pandaseek [Rated T, 269357 Words, Incomplete, Updated April 2023]

"What is your name." He wouldn't care usually, but the way this kid had avoided it last time he asked, he was curious. "I've had six so far." He answers slowly, weighing each word. "Which one do you want?" Six names? Yep, there is something going on there.

tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: implied/referenced child abuse

NB: fanart for this fic by Super_Yellow on AO3 here

soulmates:

i once believed love would be black and white by acidmeringue [Rated E, 26708 Words, Complete, 2023]

Andrew does not believe in soulmates. Nicky has a soulmate. His twin Aaron has a soulmate too, but Andrew doesn't let them speak. Everyone around him has a soulmate. They can all see in color. He can't. He doesn't believe in soulmates, doesn't believe in love at all. When enough people tell you what love should look like, when you're told enough times that you should be able to see in color but you can't, you start to believe that you don't have a soulmate after all. And that's okay. At least, it was, until Andrew makes eye contact with a stranger at Eden's and the world comes to a screeching halt. ~ Soulmate au where you can't see in color until you lock eyes with your soulmate. Additionally, if your soulmate dies, your vision goes back to monochrome.

tw: implied/referenced abuse

The Real Thing by nekojita [Rated M, 34125 Words, Complete, 2021]

Andrew was more than willing to turn down the Ravens' offer to be their newest goalie, unwilling to play five more years of Exy - let alone for someone with a too-sharp smile and a manic gleam in their eyes. That was, until he realized that a member of their Perfect Court was his soulmate. (That was, until Riko Moriyama realized that Nathaniel Wesninski, the Ravens' #3 in waiting, was Andrew's soulmate.) Andrew always knew that Fate loved tormenting him, he didn't need a reminder yet again via a too-attractive soulmate who appeared to loathe him. Yet things aren't always what they seem, especially in the Nest.

tw: attempted rape/noncon, tw: abuse, tw: violence, tw: blood, tw: alcohol, tw: medication withdrawal

other aus:

If I Knew You by AceSirenSinger [Rated T, 43145 Words, Complete, 2024]

Neil is imprisoned at sixteen years old for being the Butcher of Baltimore. Andrew obsesses, and Aaron obsesses because Andrew does, and everything goes wrong and raw and painful. Feat. the twinyards breaking each other’s hearts, and a decent amount of shade on the American justice system.

tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: recreational drug use, tw: implied/referenced violence, tw: implied/referenced torture

Shut Up and Dance (With Me) by OfficialStarsandGutters [Rated E, 168160 Words, Complete, 2021]

Dance AU. - Neil Josten just wants to dance, but being on the run leaves little time for frivolous hobbies. He has no idea what one night of risk will lead to when he first steps into Eden’s Twilight. Andrew Minyard dances alone. Everyone knows this. Until a wide eyed, desperate rabbit of a boy stumbles into his path, and he breaks his self imposed rule.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: torture, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: anxiety, tw: depression, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced drug abuse, tw: explicit sexual content, tw: implied/referenced eating disorder, tw: vomit, tw: graphic injuries, tw: nonconsensual drug use

[wordsnwhiskey]

As It Should Be | Chapter 4: Company

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F!Reader x Frankie Morales

Summary: Whiskey gets a surprised call and he and Frankie have a long talk.

Rating: M

Warnings: Talks of drug use, alcohol, mentions of character death, mentions of canon typical violence, PTSD, violent nightmare

A/N: I really wanted this conversation to happen between these two given their respective histories. We all know that Whiskey needed therapy and in this verse he gets it. It’s also my HC, from what I vaguely know (I’m not an expert and I could be very wrong), that Whiskey was an officer in the Air Force where he flew/placed in jets and that’s how he knows how to fly an F-22 (The Silver Pony).

We are getting some angst and some fluff this time folks!

Also, yes I do have a specific soap in mind for Whiskey, it's Old Glory by Duke Cannon

Huge special thanks to mi esposa @danniburgh and my friend Agent Capri Sun for the betas and encouragement!!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Chapter 3: Statesmen & Demons | AO3

He was drowning. He needed...something. He needed help.

Frankie pulled his phone out, went to the recent number that was, as of yet, unsaved, and pressed ‘call’. His shaky hand brought the phone up to his ear as the line rang.

Whiskey’s hair was still wet from his shower, and his white t-shirt clung to his damp skin. Eyeing the take out on his counter, he sank into his couch and smiled at your texts:

Whiskey: Thai sound good, sweetheart?

Bourbon: God yes Jack, I’m starving!

Whiskey: I’ll let you know when I get outta the shower, see you soon sweetheart

He was just about to send you a message to come on over when his phone rang. Glancing at the clock on his stove, then back to the unfamiliar Texas number on his caller ID, he frowned.

“Whiskey.”

His greeting was curt. Who the hell would be calling at 8:30 pm on a Wednesday?

“H-hey Whiskey, it’s me, Frankie. Is… uh, is she there?”

Whiskey’s frown deepened, not that he minded Frankie calling him, far from it, but his voice was cracking like he’d been... crying?

“Oh, hey there, Flyboy. No she isn’t, do you need me to get her?”

“N-no, no… I, uh, I don’t want her to see me right now. I’m, uh,” Whiskey could hear Frankie take a deep breath on the other side of the line. “I’m having a bad night, Jack. Could you come get me? I’m at the hotel.”

Jack shot straight up, practically leaping to his feet.

“Did you…?”

The question clung to the air like lead, crushing both of their chests in the silence.

“No, I haven’t… I just… fuck.”

Jack was moving, grabbing his leather jacket, keys, and Stetson, practically sprinting out the door.

“Don’t worry about it, Flyboy. I’m headed your way.”

He shifted his weight while he waited for the elevator to take him to the parking garage, shooting off a quick text to you in apology. Frankie’s words, “I don’t want her to see me,” rung in his ears and he decided to hold off on telling you what had come up, at least until he could see you at the office tomorrow.

Whiskey: Hey sweetheart, sorry something came up and I can’t do dinner tonight. Everything’s fine, see you at the office, sugar. X

Your phone went off and you quickly unlocked it, eager to hear back from Jack so you could head over. A frown pulled the corners of your lips down at his text, but you knew he wouldn’t cancel on you without good reason.

You: See you tomorrow, cowboy. Better make it up to me ;)

Frankie had left the door slightly ajar and was pacing around his room, arms crossed in front of him when he heard a quick knock, then the handle was turning and Whiskey crossed the threshold. He took a cursory glance around the room: nothing but minibar booze bottles, thankfully. Whiskey let out a sigh of relief that was short-lived when he took in Frankie’s demeanor. Frankie’s face was taut with shame, and his gaze refused to rise any higher than Whiskey’s boots.

“I didn’t know who else to call,” Frankie choked out, “ Pope, and Hawk… I can’t disappoint them again. I’ve been clean for three years, and I didn’t…”

Jack shook his head and beckoned Frankie over, wrapping his arm around the other man’s shoulders and pulling him in for a quick, tight hug.

“C’mon, Flyboy, this is not the time nor the place to talk about this. I’m taking you back to my place, and we’re gonna have some whiskey that’s much better than what you’ve had here, and then we can talk.”

Frankie nodded and grabbed his hat, planting it on his head as Whiskey tugged him out of the hotel room. He was so deep in his thoughts and his guilt for having Whiskey come out that he didn’t realize where he was until the elevator dinged. Whiskey unlocked and opened the door to his condo, giving way to a view so incredible Frankie almost forgot to breathe. Across from the entryway, on the far side of the condo, the gorgeous New York night skyline twinkled back at them from beyond the wall of glass windows. Frankie marveled at the rustic elegance of Jack’s home. It had an entirely open floor plan, giving Frankie a view of the dark cherry butcher block island, the top-of-the-line range top, and other appliances, all immaculately clean. For a moment, he wondered if that was because Whiskey ordered out more than he cooked, but then he saw the bags of takeout on the counter and immediately felt guilty.

“I’m sorry, looks like I interrupted your dinner plans.”

Whiskey closed and locked the door behind him, hanging his jacket up on the nearby hook. He glanced over at the takeout, then put his hand on Frankie’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it, partner. I just told her something came up. You hungry? I ordered her Drunken Noodles, be a shame to put them to waste.”

Frankie was about to decline when his stomach rumbled, and Whiskey chuckled.

“C’mon, Flyboy, go sit down on the couch and I’ll bring the food and some whiskey round.”

With a nod, he toed his dress shoes off (they were all he had without his go bag) and made for the brown leather couch. He sat down a bit stiffly, feeling awkward given the circumstances. Whiskey brought over the containers of food, handing one to Frankie and resting his own on the coffee table before grabbing them the promised drinks. He sat down, and Frankie took his drink in one hand, relishing in the smooth burn as he took a sip, then set it down to dive into his food.

They ate in a relaxed and cozy silence. Frankie finished first, which wasn’t a surprise. When Whiskey finished, he took Frankie’s empty container with him to toss in the garbage before he made his way back. An awkward silence replaced the previous comfortable one, and Frankie found himself having a hard time pulling his gaze from the amber liquid in his glass. Whiskey took a deep breath, then turned on the couch to face Frankie.

“Santiago said you’ve been clean for three years? That’s quite the accomplishment.”

“Yeah, thanks. Doesn’t really feel like it right now. I feel like I failed. I’m worried I’ll slip up.”

“I don’t think you will, Frankie. Neither do Pope or Bourbon.”

Jack didn’t know why, but the words rang true in his mind, even though he hadn’t known Frankie for very long.

“You don’t seem like the kind of guy to throw three years of hard work away, Flyboy.”

A small smile tugged at Frankie’s lips and he took a sip from his glass.

“Must’ve been weird for Halcón. Last time she saw me, fuck, I was barely with it. The suspension hit me hard. I had been getting my shit together before Colombia and the funeral. I just wanted to be able to fly. I couldn’t and still can’t stand the idea of being grounded. That, and I knew my fianceé would leave me if I didn’t get it together. But then, well, we all went to Colombia.”

“I couldn’t imagine being grounded. I don’t fly often, but to not have the option? I dunno what I’d do.”

Whiskey shook his head and grimaced. Frankie perked up, head snapping to meet Whiskey’s gaze.

“You fly?”

“Mmmhmm, was in the Air Force for a bit, did jets. Statesmen has an F-22, the Silver Pony, that I fly.”

A small buzz of excitement was washing over Frankie, and he subconsciously scooted closer to Whiskey. He didn’t really have anyone to talk to about flying, even if helicopters and jets were two very different means of flying.

“What made you risk it, Flyboy? What happened in Colombia?”

Frankie frowned and let out a deep sigh.

“Pope had been down there for a few years, chasing a narco named Gabriel Martín Lorea. He finally got a break when his CI told him she knew where he was hiding out and where he was stashing his money. He showed up outta the blue asking us, our old team, to come down and do recon, $17k just for a week of recon. If we wanted to stay on after that, we’d be entitled to 25% of whatever we seized, and the rumour was that Lorea had $75M on him. I’m guessing Halcón was busy with a mission for you guys, and I’m glad she was. It ended up being a fucking shitshow.”

Whiskey noted the faraway look in Frankie’s eyes as he sighed and took another swig from his glass, shaking his head as Frankie recalled the events.

“After the recon, Pope said he thought we could do the job ourselves, take all the money and not tell the local governments. We found out that the local agency hadn’t been the ones to pay us the $17k. That had come out of Pope’s pocket. He was so sure that the locals were on Lorea’s payroll, and if he went to the local agency, Lorea would disappear with the money. At the end of the day, none of us could say no. Turned out the rumors of Lorea having $75M were wrong. The house was stuffed, literally, with cash. Tom, our captain, got greedy. He ignored our hard-out time and insisted we take more loads of cash. We ended up stealing close to $250M, then we burned the house down.”

Whiskey whistled. “$250M is a lot of money, partner…”

Frankie barked out a humorless laugh, his eyes rueful.

“Too much. Our helo couldn’t take it all and make it over the Andes. I knew it before take off, and I warned Tom and Pope, but all any of us could see was the money. Tom didn’t want to leave it on the runway. I almost had us over the Andes when a gearbox blew, and I had to get us back to flat. We had to cut the money net, and it was just our luck that it happened to be over a coke farm. It was a bad landing. I honestly don’t know how none of us were seriously injured, but Pope and Tom went to go and convince the farmers to get out of the money. Our comms were out, so we were going off of hand signals. Tom got too trigger happy, and he dropped a few of the villagers. I-I provided cover fire, too…”

Frankie hung his head, no matter how much Will, Benny, or Pope had tried to reassure him, he still held an enormous amount of guilt over what had happened. He felt Whiskey’s hand rest on his shoulder, and he leaned into the touch.

“That’s what you were trained to do, Flyboy. You couldn’t have known any different, especially without comms.”

Frankie nodded, taking a large gulp of his whiskey, then continued on.

“A couple days later, we took fire in the mountains, and they got Tom. It ended up being a kid and another guy from the coke farm. We killed them, but there was nothing we could do for Tom. Headshot, he died instantly. 10 years we all served together, and then he was gone, leaving behind an ex and two daughters. It could have been any one of us though, Jack… we all took lives during that mission. Tom just took the wrong ones. It… it could have been me even, I shot some of those villagers, too.”

Frankie felt Whiskey’s grip on his shoulder tighten and looked up to see the empathetic sadness of someone who truly understood how he felt reflected back in Whiskey’s eyes. Frankie cleared his throat.

“We ended up bailing on a lot of the cash, taking only what we could carry in our daypacks and tossing the rest in a ravine so we could haul Tom’s body out with us. At the end of it, we made out with around $5M, but we all agreed it should go to Tom’s family. I got back to find my fianceé had left. She couldn’t stand my leaving with Pope. Looking back, my addiction is probably what really did us in, but I was devastated to come home to an empty house after everything that had happened. Things got… dark after that. I fell back on old habits, fuck, I had barely been clean a few months when we went to Colombia. I didn’t want to think about what we’d done there, didn’t want to feel the emptiness, didn’t want to sleep and deal with the nightmares. I was a mess, and I… uh, I took too much one day. Pope found me unconscious, lying on the ground, and got me to the hospital. When I came to, I realized I didn’t want to end up dead in my shitty apartment, once they discharged me, I checked into rehab.”

Frankie took another drink. No one other than Pope knew that knocking on death’s door had been the turning point for him. Whiskey chewed on his lip, taking a drink and debating whether he should share his past as well.

“Drugs are… a terrible thing to get hooked on. My high school sweetheart, carrying my unborn son, was murdered by two meth head freaks robbing a fucking convenience store. I was on leave from the Air Force, waiting for them to come home when I got the call. I didn’t realize how much it festered in me until about a year back when we were taking down the Golden Circle.”

Frankie nodded. He remembered that he had been glad he was clean by then.

“I’m sorry, Whiskey… I didn’t know, I shouldn’t have-”

Jack’s hand moved from Frankie’s shoulder to rub his back reassuringly.

“Listen, the things you’ve done and seen for our country… and not, well, it’s a lot, and I know it’s not the same as the freaks who… it’s not the same. I almost sabotaged the mission. My hate-addled brain thought it would be justice… It was Bourbon who very literally knocked me on my ass and kept me from making a decision I’d regret. She encouraged me to see a Statesmen counselor, which has been a lot of work, but has been more helpful than I ever thought it would be. Have you thought about that?”

Frankie was distracted for a moment by Jack’s hand. It felt nice, reassuring, safe, things that had been sorely lacking for him today.

“I have and I did, well, I had to as part of the program, and I kept it up for a bit after. It helped, but… I couldn’t really talk about what happened with Tom. Sure there’s confidentiality and all that, but what we did is all kinds of illegal. I couldn’t exactly bring that to a session or group.”

Frankie snorted, a ghost of a smile tugged at a corner of his mouth.

“Really though, aside from the program I was in after rehab to get my license back, I’ve gotten some hobbies and some other out-outlets. This was just a lot. I needed to not be alone.”

Jack cocked his head at the way Frankie stuttered and subconsciously fidgeted with the bandage on his right wrist. He had picked up from the night prior that Frankie had a thing for pain, and Frankie’s reaction when he had bandaged him up was further proof of that. But using it as his sole outlet or method of working through his issues was something he wouldn’t enable. His eyes narrowed, and before Frankie could blink, Jack snatched his left hand, mindful of the tender marks as he held fast and fixed Frankie with a hard stare. Frankie flinched at the sudden movement then his eyes widened a little.

“You know this ain’t a solution, Flyboy.”

Jack’s voice had an edge to it bordering on a growl. Frankie shook his head quickly.

“Shit, no, Whiskey, the i-impact p-play stuff, i-it’s an outlet, and it’s not my only outlet. I met my old partners, Sam and then later on her husband, a year and a half or two years ago. I was a year clean before I even had my first session with either of them. I met Sam when she booked a flight tour, and one thing led to another… She’d come back into town and sometimes her husband would come with, but we all kept everything pretty quiet. They helped me relax, and they had their fun.”

Frankie was doing his best to be nonchalant, but he couldn’t help the slight bitterness creeping into his voice. Maybe it had to do with the fact that Jack’s tone had thrown him off guard, unexpectedly stirring something in him. Whiskey, of course noticed on both counts, having been trained to do so. He could see through Frankie a mile away. Frankie nervously took another sip from his glass, shuddering as Whiskey’s thumb gingerly rubbed circles over the marks, seemingly accepting his explanation.

“You know, had I known about your… interests, I would have done things a bit differently last night, Flyboy.” He winked at Frankie, then smirked as he examined Frankie’s wrist more thoughtfully. “How are they doing?”

“G-good, thanks. And uh, well, you’re one of 3 people who know.” Frankie murmured.

Whiskey’s eyebrows raised slightly in surprise as he nodded and released Frankie’s hand.

“Really? Not Pope or Bourbon?”

“Are you kidding me? Pope would never let me hear the end of it. There are some things he doesn’t need to know.” Frankie chuckled and shook his head. “And Halcón? Well, there was never any reason for her to know. We never did anything together before last night.”

“How long has it been since you last saw Sam or her husband?”

Frankie downed the rest of his whiskey, eyes far away for a moment, remembering their last session, the sharp pain followed by a rush of endorphins and the occasional soothing praise. He shook his head gently, blinking himself out of his memories at the feeling of Jack’s warm hand on his knee.

“It’s been a while, six months? They moved overseas.”

There was a beat of silence, Whiskey could sense there was something up, it was a subtle shadow flitting across Frankie’s face. He decided to push a little more.

“Did you have feelings for them?”

“It was complicated.”

The edge in Frankie’s voice was tinged with pain, and he tried to cover it up with a laugh that came out humorless.

“I guess it isn’t that complicated. After six months, things shifted, and they made it clear I wasn’t part of their long term plan. It became very transactional, which was fine, but there was less and less... care after.”

“Oh.”

The response slipped from Jack’s lips, and he was momentarily stunned quiet before his temper began to flare. His index finger and thumb gently gripped Frankie’s chin, forcing him to meet his gaze.

“Listen carefully, Flyboy. What I did last night was the bare minimum of what someone should do in that kind of situation. Anything less is negligent. Christ, how was this ever stress relief for you if you were left to free fall afterwards?”

Whiskey’s voice was calm and even, but Frankie could see the fury raging in his eyes. Sensing Whiskey’s desire for understanding, he nodded then shrugged.

“I guess I’d try to go on a hike with one of the guys or go train at the gym.”

Silence fell between them, a muscle in Whiskey’s jaw clenching before he glanced at the clock and let out a deep sigh, willing himself to calm down.

“It’s already just about midnight, Flyboy. Why don’t you go shower, and I’ll put on a clean bandage for you once you’re done. You can use my bathroom. There’s a clean towel hanging you can use. Don’t worry about clothes, I’ll leave something for you to sleep in on my bed so you can change while I set up the guest room for you.”

Frankie was about to protest, saying he could do his own bandages, but Whiskey fixed him with a stare and shook his head.

“Go on Flyboy, get yourself in the shower. Head down the hall, second door on the left. Your room is across the hall. I’ll be waiting there with the medkit when you’re done.”

Whiskey took Frankie’s empty glass and stood, taking their glasses to the sink while Frankie got up and made his way to the shower. A pensive frown tugged at Whiskey’s lips. Tonight certainly explained a lot of things. The sharp fury that permeated Whiskey’s chest when they were talking about Frankie’s previous partners returned. How could someone not be bothered with aftercare? It was also clear that Frankie felt abandoned by them. On some level, the poor man was probably terrified of that happening again, if he even entertained the thought of something between the three of you. Whiskey waited a few moments until he heard the water running before heading into his room. He let out a sigh as he grabbed a white t-shirt and a pair of linen shorts for Frankie to wear, leaving them on the bed before he left to make sure the guest room was all set.

Frankie undressed quickly, folding his clothes and setting them down on the vanity in a neat pile crowned with his hat. Next, he made quick work of unwrapping the bandage around his wrist and tossing the materials in the garbage. He let out a sigh of relief as he stepped into the shower and the hot water scoured the last two days from his skin. The relief was quickly replaced with a small whine of pain as the water hit his wrist. Closing his eyes and bracing himself against the wall with his forearm he breathed through the pain, acclimating to the sensation. Frankie took a minute to just exist, trying to enjoy the quiet that had slowly crept back into his mind. Taking a deep breath, he set to work getting himself clean. The steam made the air thick and heavy with the scent of Whiskey’s soap, something akin to leather and tobacco leaves. It clung to Frankie’s lungs, and he could have stayed there enjoying it for considerably longer. But, he didn’t want to keep Whiskey waiting, so he rinsed off and hopped out of the shower. He toweled off, smirking to himself when he saw it was monogrammed (because of course it was), then headed out and changed quickly into the shirt and shorts that had been left for him.

Whiskey looked up in time to see Frankie stride through the doorway wearing his shirt and shorts, smelling like him, his soap. He swallowed thickly and tried to recover with a smile.

“Feel better, Flyboy? C’mon, sit down. Let’s have a look.”

Frankie nodded, then took a seat next to Whiskey on the bed and gave him his right hand. Whiskey hummed his approval at the lack of resistance from Frankie, something the pilot felt tug at his chest.

“This is looking much better, Flyboy, should be completely healed in a few days.”

Whiskey smiled as he finished tending to and wrapping up Frankie’s wrist. Without prompting, Frankie offered his other wrist and Whiskey couldn’t bite back the smirk that followed. He was glad though, glad that Frankie was trusting him with this and was embracing these moments, even if it was for something small. Frankie’s left wrist was considerably better off, but even so, Whiskey was still gentle as he looked him over.

Frankie’s heart fluttered at the intimacy of what was happening. Here was Jack, a man he’d known for barely 48 hours, who was taking care of him, who had dropped everything to come get him, who had spent his evening letting Frankie talk. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had treated him this way.

There was an overwhelming urge building in his chest, and without thinking, he acted on it.

He gripped the collar of Whiskey’s t-shirt with one hand, tugging him closer as Frankie leaned in and kissed him. Whiskey was shocked for a moment, it had been the last thing he had been expecting, but he quickly recovered when he felt Frankie’s tongue swipe at his lip. His hand rested along the column of Frankie’s throat, thumb grazing over the scruff along his jaw as he deepened the kiss, leaning into Frankie and tasting him.

A small moan pulled Jack back to his senses, resting his forehead against Frankie’s and cupping his jaw with this other hand. They both panted, trying to catch their breath, and Whiskey smiled as he gave Frankie another quick kiss. For a moment, Frankie was worried he had overstepped when Whiskey cut off their kiss, but looking into the other man’s eyes, he knew that wasn’t the case.

“You’ve had a long day, Flyboy, we’re not gonna do anything tonight. Tomorrow though, if you want, I could help you get rid of some of that stress and help you come down the right way. No rush, no pressure, you can say no and nothing changes. I don’t want an answer right now either, sleep on it.”

Frankie’s breath quickened and his pupils dilated at the thought, but one thing nagged at him.

“What about Halcón?”

Whiskey chuckled and patted Frankie’s shoulder.

“Well it’s what we both want, in a manner of speaking. She’d be onboard, but she doesn’t have to know exactly what we do for now unless you’re comfortable with it. A lot of this is stuff I know she wants to go over on Friday, but for now, when it comes to me and Bourbon, keep an open mind and try not to overthink it, partner. If you want to do this tomorrow, then we can do it. If not, no harm, no foul, you’re still welcome to stay here and keep me company.”

Frankie nodded, still processing what Whiskey had said and more than a little surprised that Whiskey was inviting him back regardless of his decision. Whiskey stood up then, squeezing Frankie’s shoulder.

“G’night, Flyboy. Holler if you need anything.”

Frankie was back in Colombia. He felt sluggish, his feet refusing to respond the way he wanted them to. He saw the villager from the cocaine farm pop up from the rocky outcrop, but Frankie couldn’t move, couldn’t draw his gun to take him out. He cried out in anguish as the man fired.

“No! Tom!”

Then he was surrounded by Pope, Benny, Will, you, and Whiskey, statuesque as the man who killed Tom lined up and dropped Pope, moving his way down the line. Frankie was sobbing now, he was being swallowed up by the ground, sinking helplessly as the people he cared for were murdered.

Whiskey woke with a start to the sound of shouting.

Ripping the sheet and comforter off, Whiskey glanced at the clock. It read 01:30 and he sighed. Frankie just couldn’t catch a break.

“P-please, No! Po-Pope, God, n-no, Hal-Halcón! Whiskey!”

He really didn’t want to shake Frankie awake, worried as to how he might react waking up from that sort of dream, but Jack had to do something.

“Hey, Frankie, I’m right here, you gotta wake up. Wake up, Flyboy.”

Frankie shot up, feeling like ice water had been poured down his spine. He was wild-eyed and breathing heavily, but once again, Whiskey’s soothing words served to ground him, and he clung to them with all he had. He felt Whiskey pull him into a hug, and Frankie didn’t care about the awkward angle, he clung to the embrace as well.

Whiskey’s heart ached at the way Frankie clutched at him after hearing him call out Pope’s, his, and your names. He had a vague idea of what might have happened, he still had dreams where he couldn’t save his loved ones every now and then. Once Frankie’s breathing calmed a bit, Whiskey tugged him up out of bed.

“C’mon Flyboy, you’re coming with me.”

Frankie didn’t argue, he just followed, grateful that Whiskey was pulling him by his hand, needing that point of contact. Whiskey pulled back the covers on the side opposite of his and waited until Frankie crawled in before he pulled the covers over him, then slid in on his side of the bed. He scooted a bit closer, not wanting to crowd Frankie unless he wanted the contact, and was pleased when the other man scooted back until his back rested against Jack’s chest.

“Get some sleep, Flyboy. I’ve got you.”

Sooner than he expected, Whiskey heard soft snores coming from Frankie. He smiled then wrapped his arm around him and pulled him closer.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs & comments are much appreciated!

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[cutesuki--bakugou]

Anything, For You

This is a continuation of Anything. Please be sure to read that part first if you want some context!

Rating:  Explicit

Warnings: Rough Sex (Vaginal and Anal), Threesome (Double Penetration), Weed / Alcohol Use, Rough Oral Sex (blow job, face fucking), Public Foreplay, Public Humiliation, Spanking, Choking, Obsessive Reader, Toxic / Power Imbalanced Relationship, Emotional Manipulation, Suggested Dubcon / Reluctant / Compliant Reader

Words: 12,128

Pairing: Drummer!Bakugou Katsuki x Superfan!Fem!Reader x Guitarist!Kirishima Eijirou

Quirkless, Punk rock band AU

Not specifically written for, but using it for the @bnhabookclub​​ ‘s members bingo event!

Crossed off: Threesome

Bingo Masterlist

BTW, please blacklist the tag cutesuki-lemons if you do not want to see this content from my blog. I will no longer be tagging with specific keywords for this type of content.Thank you~

Due to the nature of this post, the characters are 18+

Art in banner by me

Tag list: @lady-bakuhoe​ , @gallickingun​ , @unbreakableeiji​ , @boom-bakugou​ , @honeytama​ , @wakaoujisenhime​ , @ikinabi​ , @thotpatrolcaptain​ , @1-800-callmekatsuki​ , @tomurasprincess​ , @bratwritings​ 

You nervously tightened your grip on the small clutch in your hands, digging your nails into the faux leather and ignoring the sting of the metal pointed studs against your skin. For a few minutes now, you had just been standing outside of the club Garden, listening to the loud music and watching the flashing neon lights every time the door opened. With each group of people leaving, stumbling out drunk and high off adrenaline from dancing, the same amount were let in from an insanely long line, which even curved around the building to where you couldn’t see. There were so many people waiting to go in, and yet, you knew that you could just bypass this line and go on in. 

Why were you so nervous? 

It wasn’t the thought that you would be glared or yelled at by the people waiting if you skipped the line. Sure, it might make you a bit embarrassed if they picked at you, but that wasn’t the problem. No, it was who was waiting inside the club and who gave you that exact privilege to just come on in that terrified you. 

Bakugou 10:50 pm: come to the club Garden downtown around 1 am. just show your ID at the door and theyll let you in past the line. 

Me 10:51 pm: Just me? 

Bakugou 10:51 pm: just you, babe. your shitty friends arent invited. 

After releasing a trembling breath, you opened your clutch to take a quick look at your phone, giving a small groan at the time that showed 1:02 am. It was time to go in, but you were so damn nervous. How could you not be? Showing up to a strange and very crowded club, to hang out and drink with your favorite people - or, well, person - on this planet? With what happened earlier that night, you knew that any type of debauchery could go down, and the stinging welts on your asscheek were testament to that. But there was going to be way more involved. More people, alcohol, and most likely some type of drugs, for sure. You knew that you’d need to be vigilant, but being in Bakugou’s presence again, you weren’t sure you’d have the willpower to say no to anything that was handed your way. 

Suddenly, your phone buzzed in your hand, startling you enough to make you jump and almost lose your balance on your chunky, boot style platform heels. Looking at the screen, the fire in your cheeks grew hotter, reading the text that Bakugou had just sent you. 

Bakugou 1:03 am: where are you at, babygirl? scared? 

Me 1:03 am: No, I’m about to come in. There’s… a lot of people.

Bakugou 1:04 am: fuck them and come inside. there’s someone waiting to bring you up.

Releasing a trembling breath, you put your phone back in your clutch and pulled out your ID instead, gathering your courage to walk up to the front door. One of the two bouncers immediately looked down at you with a threatening posture, though his demeanor changed at the sight of your timid presence. 

“Skipping the line?” 

“I… have VIP permissions. From Bakugou Katsuki… I’m [f/n] [l/n]. He said I should be on a list.” 

Taking your ID, the bouncer first checked it over with a flashlight to confirm its authenticity, before picking up a clipboard that was resting on a stool beside him. It only took him a moment before finding your name, smiling and giving a nod. “Yep, there you are. Follow me.” Putting the clipboard down and handing you the ID back, he made his way through the front door, at first holding it open for some people leaving before allowing you through. 

Any objections you may have heard from the people in line were immediately drowned out by the music, the heavy beat shaking the ground. It was quite dark in the large industrial style building, with only blacklights and flashing neon skylights illuminating the dancefloor. Though, up one floor, you could see a loft area with mostly regular lighting, though it was dimmed, and you wondered if that’s where you would be going. 

Following the bouncer as he made his way past, you used his impressive height and size to push through the crowds, since he was easily able to part the sea of bouncing drunken bodies. He led you to the stairs, as you had expected, and started to make his way up, only giving you a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure you were still following. Or to make sure that no one else was coming up, either. You weren’t sure. 

As you made your way up, you felt a bit embarrassed that the stairway was mostly exposed, using your free hand to hold your short dress up against your backside to hopefully keep anyone from seeing anything private. You weren’t wearing any hose this time, since the only ones you had brought with you into town for the concert were the fishnets that Bakugou had destroyed earlier. Your only cute pair of underwear had also been destroyed, so right after the concert, you had to hunt some down. All you could find at the only store still open was a pair of cute little lace boy short style panties, which were quite sexy and were decently invisible under your dress. You knew that they would be, since you got them from a damn porn shop. There was nothing else open at midnight, so there was no choice. It still ended up perfect, though. If something else did end up happening, you assumed he would like them. Or you hoped so. 

The closer you got to the loft, you realized that it was actually surrounded by glass. The only thing that was solid was the door, which was opened after a loud series of knocks from the bouncer. After a click, another man opened it up, glancing first at your guide before down to you. “She’s invited?” 

“Yes. [f/n] [l/n]. Bakugou’s guest.” Stepping aside, the bouncer and what appeared to be a security guard allowed you inside, the door shutting immediately once you passed the threshold. The sudden volume difference of the room startled you a bit, as did the change in lighting, but you were quick to take in your surroundings. 

There were multiple couches and chairs scattered about in strategic locations, along with tables that were already piled up with drinks. The room was much smaller than it seemed, with only one other door along the back solid wall, which you assumed was a bathroom. Then, your eyes landed on the men you adored, and your entire body instantly flushed with heat as you noticed all their eyes on you. 

“Your clutch, ma’am?” 

The security guard pulled you out of your stupor, holding his hand out in front of you. Nervously, you placed it in his hand, watching as he placed it in a bag behind him and zipped it up. Immediately after, he ran some type of long beeping device across the front and back of your body about an inch away, which you assumed was a metal detector. When it didn’t go off, he allowed you to walk further in with a wave of his hand, and you timidly stepped forward while pulling down your dress, clearing your throat a bit in awkwardness. 

“Hey there, babygirl.” Bakugou spoke with a sly smirk on his face, holding a glass of dark colored liquor near his lips. “Finally made it. Took you fucking long enough.” 

“Sorry…” Making your way towards the couch he was on, you took a moment to look at the other members, trying to control the nervous swirling of your stomach. “Nice to see you all again…” 

“You were in our first meet up group, right?” Midoriya smiled at you, placing his hand on the thigh of a curvaceous woman that was placed firmly on his lap. His voice was still quite strained and cracked, worn from the performance. “Kacchan told me he invited someone, but he didn’t tell me who!” 

“Because it’s none of your damn business, Deku,” With a snap of his finger as he held his hand out towards you, Bakugou commanded you over to him silently. Not even taking a second to think about it, you approached, taking his hand. He led you with only a gentle pull to stand between his legs, placing both of his hands on your outer thighs. “You look good, babygirl.” 

“T-thank you-” You were cut off by the sound of a door closing, along with an annoyed whine. 

“Aww, what the fuck?! Even Bakugou was able to get a girl this time, and he never does! I must have really sucked today.” Huffing, Kaminari shuffled his way towards an empty armchair, flopping down to sit with his legs stretched out in front of him, toes pointed towards the ceiling. “Bullshit.” 

“You suck all the time, dunceface.” 

“I do not! All the girls wanted me at our last gig.” 

“Yeah, because both Deku and Kirishima were out of commission after that, so they had no other option. Don’t be such a little bitch, if you want girls, go fucking dance.” Although Bakugou’s snappy demands were directed at his companion, his glazed over crimson eyes never left your body. They scanned over every inch of you quite diligently, as if he were missing you greatly just from these few hours apart. Unsure of what to do with your hands, you let one rest tenderly on his bicep while running the other softly through his bangs, pulling the fair blonde hair loose of the light grip of sweat that stuck it to his skin. You weren’t sure if it was the lighting in the room or maybe his intoxication, but you could have sworn that you could see the tips of his ears flush with your touch. 

“But I don’t want to go dance alone!” Kaminari whined, sinking further into the chair. His voice broke your concentration on the man in front of you, looking at the pouting bass player over your shoulder. It was odd, you thought, that there weren’t as many girls in here as you expected. Actually, there was only you and the girl with Midoriya, whose attention was fully on him, hands on his freckled cheeks and playfully squishing them together. Her bobbed brunette hair gave away who she was, as you had seen her in many of his social media postings, but you couldn’t quite remember her name. All you knew was that they were dating and had been friends for a very long time, but that didn’t really matter right now. 

Kirishima sighed, resting his arms up over the back of the couch, his hand pulling your attention as it came to rest decently close to Bakugou’s head, though the drummer didn’t protest or seem to even notice. “C’mon, man, don’t be such a downer! I think you need to take another hit and get down there. Take Todoroki with you.” 

Kaminari scoffed, looking over at the silent member of their band, who was more focused on his phone and his fancy martini looking drink than anything they were talking about. “What, so he can go stand in the middle of the dancefloor like a weirdo? He doesn’t have any dancing rhythm! He barely moves when we’re performing!” 

“Yeah, but girls like him more than you, he’d help you catch their attention.” 

“Now you’re all just being assholes!” Huffing, Kaminari sat up and leaned forward, snatching up a small glass pipe and the lighter beside it. “It’s not my fault that no one likes the bass players! I’m not as cool as you!” 

“Hey, I’ve offered to play bass sometimes.” Kirishima grinned, reaching over to scratch the side of his nose. “But Bakugou won’t let us switch--” 

“Fuck no.” Bakugou interrupted, now glowering at his friends, both of his strong hands resting on your hips firmly. “That’s too much power I’m not willing to give you, dunceface.” 

“Rude.” Grumbling under his breath, Kaminari glared down at the pipe as he brought it to his lips, lighting it up and taking a hit. The smell of weed hit your nose immediately as he exhaled, the cloud of smoke leaving his lips slowly as he leaned back in the chair. “Midoriya would.” 

“Because he’s a dipshit.” 

“You’re so aggressive today! I think you’re the one that needs a hit, bro.” 

“Fuck that shit. I’m not looking to fall asleep any time soon.” 

“You’re up way past your bedtime, anyway. Grandpa.” Passing the pipe and lighter over to Kirishima as he beckoned for it, Kaminari gave a sly smirk, knowing he could press Bakugou’s buttons while you were in his way. You could feel Bakugou’s grip tighten in irritation and see his brows furrow, but to your surprise, he was quick to calm, giving an annoyed click of his tongue as he used only slight pressure to pull you to the side, gesturing to the couch for you to sit. You did so, now effectively squished between the two men, one taking a hit while the other gulped down what was left of his drink. 

If you were honest, you felt quite… awkward. You didn’t really know what to do with yourself and you weren’t sure if talking would be welcomed. You were new to this tight knit group, and even though you admired and adored every single one of them, you almost felt like you didn’t belong there. Were you really worthy of being in their presence like this or being so close to Bakugou as he rested an arm around your shoulders, pulling you up against his side? It felt like a dream, and you were horrified that at any moment, you would wake up to find yourself lonely in your hotel bed. 

“Want a hit, sweetheart?” 

Your thoughts were disrupted by Kirishima’s pleasant ringing voice, his smile soft and comforting as he held the pipe and lighter towards you. At first, you hid your face a bit behind Bakugou’s forearm, fiddling with your nails. “I’ve never done it before… I probably shouldn’t.” 

“Aw c’mon, you should! You’re safe here with us! That’s pretty cool, too, isn’t it? To have you first hit ever with your favorite band.” Kirishima’s eyes left yours for a moment as he glanced up, most likely at Bakugou, though there wasn’t anything malicious that you could see. He was genuinely being very nice about it, and so far, no one had protested. Still, you looked up at Bakugou for approval, a sly smirk crossing his lips when you did so. 

“What, babygirl? Looking for permission?” 

Feeling heat rush to your cheeks at his domineering tone, you nodded. “Yes. Is it okay?” 

“What do you say?” His rough fingers took hold of your chin, tilting your head up as he leaned in, whisky tainted lips brushing against yours. Your heart began to race, chest heaving with steady, heavy breaths as you parted your lips expectantly. But, you were left with nothing until you answered, and you did so without a second thought or worry about what anyone else in the room might think. 

“Please, Katsuki.” 

A low hum resonated in his chest in satisfaction of your response, pressing his hot lips against yours to reward you for being so obedient. Or, at least, that’s how you understood it. In the few hours that you had been away from him, there hadn’t been a single moment of lucidness where you felt like you had escaped whatever hold he had placed on you. In fact, your wanting to be at his side only grew worse, to hear him praise you and reward you when you were a good girl for him. 

His praise. His touch. His attention. All of it was so intoxicating, and you wanted more. 

When he set your lips free after just a short moment, it took only a light bump to your chin to have you turn your head to look back at Kirishima, who was waiting patiently. He was still smiling, but there was a mischievous gleam in his eye, as if he had been waiting to see just how obedient you still were. It was gone with a blink, his pleasant and cheerful demeanor taking over as he held the pipe up between his fingers. 

“Yeah? Gonna do it, sweetheart?” 

“Sure,” You answered meekly, turning a bit more to face him. “Uhm… How do I do it?” 

Kirishima was very thorough in his explanation of how to use the pipe, and by the time he was done, you felt confident that you could do it. Though, your confidence didn’t amount to much, as you still ended up with quite the coughing fit after your first hit. Behind the coughing and burning in your throat, you could hear Kaminari gasp out in surprise, though you couldn’t quite focus on him yet through the smoke. 

“Holy shit, Kirishima, you should have just prepped it for her, that’s gonna fuck her up!” 

Chuckling, Kirishima handed you a cup of water, which you gulped down eagerly. “She’s fine, that wasn’t that bad! A little too aggressive on sucking it in, but you’ll get it down. You okay?” He gave your thigh a few comforting pats, his lingering on your bare skin not quite registering in your mind as you tried to calm the burning in your throat. Thankfully, it was fading decently quick, but it still wasn’t anything like what you had expected. 

“I’m okay,” You choke out after a moment, placing both the glass of water and the pipe down on the coffee table in front of you. “You guys make it look so easy!” 

“That’s because they’re fucking potheads.” Bakugou pulled you back up against him. “Especially Dunceface over there. Can’t go five minutes without being high.”

“Don’t be telling lies about me, Kacchan.” Kaminari waddled a finger at his friend, and you could tell that he was feeling pretty relaxed compared to a while ago. “It’s more like three minutes.” 

“Shut up. Where the fuck’s our bartender? We haven’t gotten new drinks-” 

“-Let’s go down, then!” Kaminari hopped up to his feet, clapping his hands together to try and get his friends riled up. “Let’s get some drinks and dance like we’re normal people, no one’s gonna recognize us down there, it’s too dark! This VIP shit gets boring sometimes. Right, Todoroki?” With a bounce in his step, he walked over behind the couch his quiet friend was sitting on, giving him a firm smack on the shoulders. “You’re just over here on your phone! Let’s go dance!” 

Todoroki took his friend shaking him from side to side like a champ, not looking away from his phone or spilling his drink. “I’ll sit at the bar, but I’m not going to dance.” 

“You will after a couple of shots. Midoriya? Ochaco?” 

 “Let’s go, Deku!” Hopping up off his lap, the brunette took both of Midoriya’s hands, trying to pull him up with meager strength. “Let’s all go!” 

With a heavy sigh in defeat, Midoriya stood, as did Todoroki. Though, there was no movement from either of the two men beside you, so you glanced between them curiously. Kirishima seemed interested, while Bakugou looked like he wanted to throw them all off the balcony just to get some peace. You weren’t sure if it was the excitement of being here, the electric energy from Kaminari, or the hit you had taken, but you really wanted to go. You were feeling restless and, if you were honest, kind of bummed out that you were still the only one who hadn’t had a drop of alcohol. You came here to have a good time with these guys. With Bakugou. But how could you talk him into it? 

“You losers coming or not?” Kaminari barked before you could say a word, glowering at the three of you still plastered on the couch as he stood by the door, waiting for their security guard to unlock it and step out. “Kacchan, you were complaining about drinks, come down and get some with us!” 

“Fuck, fine! If it will shut you up!” 

Everything changed pace in a blink of an eye from that moment. Before you knew it, you had taken two shots of… something, and sucked down a drink faster than you thought you would, all while watching the bouncing bodies on the dance floor with Bakugou at your side. Though, he wasn’t just standing next to you. His arm was hooked around your waist like a vice, his powerful and off-putting presence preventing any man with wandering eyes from even considering trying to come up to you. At first, you felt a bit embarrassed that he was so close and so protective, but you also couldn’t help but feel… flattered. And that flattery brought up a new bubbling in your belly. 

You were so happy. Again, you didn’t know if it was because of the high or the alcohol, but you were absolutely beyond tickled. It was such a strong sensation, in fact, that you couldn’t help but start to bounce on your feet and sway to the music. Your hips bumped into Bakugou’s as he stood beside you, one arm around your shoulders while the other propped him up on the bar counter. With the bump, he tightened his arm around your neck, pulling you in closer to him and pressing his lips against your ear so you could hear him over the blaring music. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Dancing!” You responded near his ear as he turned his head to hear you. “I like this song!” 

“You call that dancing?” With his insult, he moved his arm around your back and gave you a small push forward towards the dance floor, smirking at the confusion on your face when you looked back at him. Taking your drink from your hands, he finished off the last bit of it before leaving it on the counter behind him, giving your ass a tap to guide you forward. Within moments, you were both swallowed by the giant group of sweating, bouncing bodies, all who had little to no care on who they were touching or where they were moving. 

And yet, with Bakugou's arms around your waist from behind, you felt like you were completely enveloped in your own bubble. Just you, him, and the music. What truly snapped your restraint was his deep growl in your ear, tugging your hips tightly back so that your ass was firmly pressed against him. 

“Show me how you can really dance, babygirl.” 

No one would truly call the way you rubbed your bodies against each other to the rhythm of the music “dancing”, but all your body could comprehend in your intoxicated state. The flashing neon lights, from pitch black to strobing, was almost making you dizzy, and the only thing that seemed to alleviate the disorientation was putting all your focus on Bakugou. 

The way you two moved was seamless and in tune, his hands freely roaming your body with no fears of being noticed within the densely packed group. Even if someone did notice, you wouldn’t care. All you cared about was his lips against the skin of your neck, his fingers digging into your plush curves and the hard presence of his cock beneath his pants. Just feeling it against your ass made you remember how good he felt fucking you, the way he filled up every inch of your aching cunt and made you scream for him. 

How he made you his. 

How you would do anything for him. 

How he owned you. 

“Open your eyes, sweetheart.” 

The voice in your ear was a sweet growl; more of a purr to calm and coax you. It was so comforting that you almost forgot where you were for a moment, until you did as you were told. Instead of a group of dancing bodies in front of you, you were met with a clear view of that brilliant, wide grin sported only by Kirishima. He was in front of you, dancing with you and Bakugou together, his hands also firmly on your body to keep you pinned between the two men. 

Your entire body immediately flushed hot, pressing further back against Bakugou to try and get some space between you and the redhead. “K-Kiri-!” 

“Don’t you even think about it.” Bakugou growled in your ear, his hand coming up to wrap around your throat. “Let him touch you.” 

You didn’t have much time to even consider complying before Bakugou moved you both forward, not allowing you any space or chance to dip out from between them. You were trapped. How long had Kirishima even been there? Whose hands had been touching you this entire time, squeezing your breasts and your hips so eagerly? Had it been both of them? Whose hand was that right now, sliding up your thigh and bringing your dress with it. 

What was happening? They couldn’t actually be thinking about touching you here on the dancefloor, could they? In the privacy of the VIP room, maybe, but out here in the middle of all these people? Someone would notice! 

You tried to squeak out a plea to stop, but Bakugou’s hand around your throat stopped any little sound from slipping out. Instead, your hips were pulled forward and snug against Kirishima’s, one of his legs between yours so that you were practically sitting on his thigh. But that wasn’t where your hips were directed. Instead, with the beat of the music, Kirishima rutted his hips against you, and you could easily feel the hard presence of his cock against your scantily clothed sex. He was wearing loose black joggers, so there was basically nothing between you, and with both men surrounding you completely and still moving with the music, there was no hope of someone noticing. 

Needing to ground yourself, you clutched on to both of Kirishima’s biceps, his hands set firmly on your hips. The digging of your nails into his skin only seemed to spur him on further, becoming rougher with his thrusts, and the more he stroked across your clit, the more you began to lose yourself. It felt so good, even though you knew that it shouldn’t. It was Bakugou all over again, fucking your throat raw as your essence dripped down your thighs, just as it was now. Kirishima was using you for his own gratification, and Bakugou was allowing it. This wasn’t okay. 

You clenched your eyes shut tightly as Bakugou’s hands moved to caress your breasts, squeezing them roughly and eagerly pinching your nipples. You heard him groan in your ear, his attention to your nipples increasing as he noticed the little studs in place. “Oh fuck, babygirl, I didn’t know you had piercings here, too. I’m an idiot for not stripping you in the changing room, but I’m not going to make that mistake tonight.” 

His teeth sinking into the skin of your neck and another harsh twist made your body jolt, a moan involuntarily slipping through your lips. Before it could get far, it was devoured by Kirishima, who kissed you passionately to silence you. 

What should I do? It feels good, but… I didn’t want Kirishima like this! 

A rough nibble to your lip forced your mouth open, unable to stop or resist Kirishima's tongue from invading. He tasted like weed and the sour sting of an energy drink still on his lips, but that isn’t what made you want to pull away. Was he… a better kisser than Bakugou? No one could be better than the blonde behind you… at anything! And yet, here Kirishima was, making you completely breathless and absolutely on fire. It wasn’t so brash or dominating, either. 

You loved it. A lot.

A moan leaked through the kiss as Bakugou moved his lips to your ear, running his tongue along the shell of it before nibbling harshly at the delicate skin below. “You like his cock rubbing up against you, baby? You like being pinned between us like the little desperate whore you are?”

Kirishima finally released your lips, giving you a chance to take in deep trembling breaths. “Yes, Katsuki! But I— “

“What?”

“I really have to pee!”

Both men paused with your proclamation, watching your face in confusion as you stood there trembling in their grip. You hadn’t been lying, and it was clear as day in your flushed face. You needed to go to the restroom. If you didn’t, you knew there would be an accident all over yourself and the two men that held you. 

“You’re serious?” Kirishima spoke loudly enough so you could hear him, and you nodded with urgency. After glancing at Bakugou, he took a step back, awkwardly trying to make his boner mostly invisible behind his joggers. “Okay. I’d rather you not piss all over.”

Bakugou turned your head towards him, his glare immediately making your legs feel weak. “He’ll take you upstairs. I’m going to get more drinks and meet you up there. You better not be using this as an excuse, or I’ll have to punish you.”

“I-it’s not, Katsuki, I promise- mmph!” You were silenced as he kissed your lips roughly, his frustration at having to stop apparent. Then, with a rough tap to your ass, you were urged forward and into Kirishima’s arms. You didn’t get a chance to glance back at Bakugou as you were led through the crowd, Kirishima using his height and size to easily push through and bump people out of the way without too much inconvenience to you. Much to your surprise, he was quite attentive of you, pulling you out of the way of wild swinging arms and keeping a firm grip on you in case you were tripped by stray feet. 

By the time you finally reached the stairs, you were completely worn out and feeling like your bladder was about to erupt. Still, you made it up the stairs and into the singular bathroom before you could piss yourself, and as you sat on the toilet, you could truly feel how intoxicated you were. You weren’t sure if your mind was spinning from the alcohol, the weed, or the incredible rush that you had felt on the dancefloor. You could feel, however, that you were incredibly sweaty, your hair sticking to your forehead, cheeks and the back of your neck like it was glued to your skin. Though, the wetness at your cunt and spread across your inner thighs was even worse. 

You couldn’t believe that you had gotten so wet and turned on from what they had done to you. Even your pathetic excuse for underwear was completely soaked through, your essence thick and visible on the black fabric. The way they had cornered you like that wasn’t something that should have excited you so much, yet here you were, trembling and dripping wet. And now, you were caught up here in this room with Kirishima. Who knows how long it might take Bakugou to get the drinks, since the bar was incredibly busy and it had taken nearly fifteen minutes to get yours earlier. 

With a defeated sigh, you wiped and decided to clean yourself up the best you could, even patting your underwear with toilet paper. In the end, the attempt wasn’t very successful, and you almost wanted to rip them back off the instant you pulled them back up to your hips. 

After washing your hands and spending a few minutes fixing your hair and wiping your face and neck of sweat, you left the restroom, finding Kirishima standing near the coffee table with the weed pipe in his hands. He gave you a comforting smile as you approached, taking a hit and blowing the smoke away from you. “Feel better, sweetheart?” 

“Yes… Uhm… Why did-” 

“Want another hit?” Kirishima interrupted you, as if he knew exactly what you were about to ask and wanted to avoid it while he could. “You’re more relaxed now, you’ll get it this time. It’ll calm your nerves, too. You’re trembling like a leaf, babe.”

“I’m… not sure.” 

“You don’t want Bakugou to see you all nervous and uptight, do you?” 

The tone of his voice instantly made your stomach twist, able to hear the slightest twinge of a threat mixed in with the worried question. Of course you didn’t want Bakugou to see you like this. You had just been so peppy and energetic down on the dancefloor, he would surely be annoyed if you grew so timid all the sudden. So, without a word, you took the pipe and lighter, doing everything you could to ignore the twist at the corner of his lips. 

Letting out a trembling breath, you brought the pipe to your lips, able to inhale, hold, and exhale without any urges to cough outside of a slight clearing of your throat. Chuckling, Kirishima took the pipe and lighter from you, setting them down again. “See! Look at you! A natural.” 

“It’s stronger this time.” 

“Yeah, I cleaned it out and prepped it again while you were in the restroom.” As he spoke, you made your way over to the front of the room, looking out of the glass and down at the bar, scanning for the blonde you had left behind. It didn’t take you long to see him, sitting on a stool as he awaited the delivery of the drinks. Though, you instantly felt heat rush to your fluttering stomach, surprised to see that he was already staring up at you. You couldn’t see his expression, but you could almost feel the icy daggers of his glare on your skin. In fact, your entire body was tingling, your mind growing dull while your body felt like every inch of you was being lightly pricked with needles. It was as if you could feel everything. Your hair tickling the back of your neck. Your dress tight against your chest. Your hot and wet underwear clung tightly against your folds and your clit. 

“Find him?” Kirishima nearly startled you enough to make you jump as he came to stand beside you, looking around curiously at all the activity below. “He sticks out like a sore thumb, doesn’t he? Ah, there! He’s already looking up here, too. He’s so into you, babe.” 

“He is…?” 

“Oh yeah. And I can see why.” One of his large hands came to rest against your lower back, stepping in a bit closer to you. “You’re so cute and timid. Obedient.” His hand began to travel down along the curve of your ass, the slight sting of your welts from earlier making you tense and nibble at your lower lip. “Sexy. It’s hard to keep my hands off you.” 

“Katsuki might… get upset if you do anything when he’s not here.” You clutched at the bottom of your dress, trying to keep it down in the front while Kirishima slowly pulled it up from the back. 

“Oh you’re right, he might. Then you’d better not do anything to let him notice, hm? He’s watching us, after all.” His hand began to stroke along your ass, groping and squeezing with a firm grip. “Damn, you have a nice ass.” 

A small squeak escaped your lips as two if his fingers slipped between your cheeks, rubbing your sex on the outside of your underwear. “Kiri… I’m… I don’t want to without Katsuki here.” 

“You sure about that? ‘Cause your wet pussy is telling me otherwise.” With aggressive movements that made you involuntarily take a step closer to the glass, Kirishima moved his hand into your underwear. Without skipping a beat, his middle and ring fingers slid into your wet cunt with ease, forcing a sweet gasp from your lips. “Oh fuck, you’re tight. It’s no wonder Bakugou’s already obsessed after only fucking you once.” 

He began to move his fingers in and out of you, slowly dragging along your inner walls, being sure to keep them curved at just the right angle. Each time he dug them into you, he pressed right into your most sensitive areas, making your entire body tingle and soft moans escape your lips. Though, just as you were about to lean forward and stick your ass out for him, he gave a small hiss in warning. 

“Don’t move, sweetheart. You want him to notice?” He quickened his pace, as if he were trying to get you to give yourself away. Resting his body against the glass using one arm to prop himself up, he appeared completely casual. Since he was turned slightly towards you, he could use this angle for better leverage, digging his fingers into you faster and deeper. “But it’s not just him. Everyone down there can see us.” 

From down below, you were sure that there wasn’t anything suspicious about the two of you, and keeping that facade was completely up to you. Even so, how sensitive your body felt, and the pleasure was already beginning to make your legs weak, so you had to press your hand against the glass to support yourself. Your panting breaths fogged up the clear surface now that you were so close to it, even able to feel your hard nipples rub against the cold. It was so much stimulation so fast that you weren’t sure how long you were going to be able to hold out. 

Whining as you bit down on your bottom lip, you clenched your eyes shut tightly, digging your nails against the glass. “Kiri… please… He’ll notice!” 

“I wonder what he’ll do, then.” He began to alternate between fingering you and rubbing your clit, nearly crippling what little hold you had left on yourself. “He’d punish you, for sure, but I wonder how? Maybe he’ll spank that pretty ass until you’re crying. Or edge you over and over. Or not give you anything at all.” 

“I… please--” A moan cut you off as you began to feel yourself growing closer and closer to your release, placing both of your hands against the glass, now. “Please, I can’t hold it!” 

“Going to cum already? Let’s change it up a bit, then.” 

For a split second, you thought that he was going to completely stop as he removed his fingers from your aching and trembling cunt. Instead, you were met with a jolt of shock through your core as both of his fingers moved to your asshole, beginning to press into you without any warning. You couldn’t stop your hips from arching back towards his hand, your upper body and forehead firmly against the glass. “K-Kiri-!” 

“Ooh, looks like someone like their ass filled up, hm? What a shame Bakugou didn’t play with you here, that little squeak you just made was adorable.” His fingers slid into you up to his knuckles, bending and flexing them apart to make you moan and wiggle. “That’s it, sweetheart. You like your ass fucked?” 

“Y-yes,” you forced your eyes open, looking back down at Bakugou through the dark and flashing neon lights. He was still watching you, but there was something else. With the cover of the dark and his hips turned towards the counter, you could see him palming himself between his legs. Could he tell what was happening? Was he really getting off on it? “Kiri… I think he can tell- ah! Fuck!” Your voice cracked as he began to move his fingers within you, moving at an even quicker and more aggressive pace than he had been before. 

“He can? Well fuck, sweetheart, that means so can all the other people down there.” Kirishima moved in closer, pressing his lips against your flushed cheek, his smirk wide and eyes gleaming with enjoyment. “Can you feel their eyes on you? Watching you get off on me fingering your ass like the good little slut you are. You like being watched, don’t you?”

“I… I don’t want them all to see me! But Katsuki is… he’s watching…” 

“That’s right. He’s watching while I get to play with you. He’s so jealous he can’t help but watch, just waiting for his chance. You like that, don’t you?” 

“Yes… Yes, I like him watching me.” Your body began to rock with his movements, the pleasure building back up rapidly. “Just to know that Katsuki wants me so bad… It makes me so hot!” You couldn’t stop your voice as your hips arched further back, trembling legs spreading a bit. “Please! Please let me cum, Kiri! I want to cum while he watches me!” 

“Yeah, babe, cum all over my fingers. That’s it.” The encouraging grumble of his voice in your ear and the increased speed of his fingers within you immediately made you lose it, gasping and moaning against the glass as you struggled to stay up on your feet. The waves of pleasure that crashed over you were so intense, much more than you had ever felt just from a little assplay, but you didn’t care to try to rationalize why. 

“What a good girl.” Kirishima pressed his lips against your cheek in a playful kiss, removing his fingers and giving your backend a few light smacks. “How about we sit down for a while, hm? You need to relax a bit before Bakugou gets back up here.” 

Pushing yourself up off the glass, you didn’t think about looking for Bakugou again before you followed him over towards the couches on weak legs. You could still feel the remnants of your orgasm pulsing through your body, the slickness that you had wiped away in the bathroom once again coating your thighs and further soaking your underwear. His large, rough fingers had felt so good inside you, and although he had allowed you to cum, you were feeling severely unsatisfied and just all around… needy? Was that the right word to use? You wanted them to touch you, to hold and to praise you. But for now, it seemed as if Kirishima was perfectly content to wait a while, leaving you standing by the couches as he flopped to sit, resting back against the armrest with his legs up casually on the cushions. 

Nearly immediately, your dizzy gaze landed on the very obvious form of his cock beneath his joggers, reminding you immediately of what he had done to you on the dancefloor. Now that you could see it, your stomach fluttered with curiosity and interest, making you crave to have his cock in your hands. Walking over casually, you ignored his curious look as you took a moment to take off your shoes, before settling onto the couch between his legs. For the first time, you saw his cheeks flush, obviously having not expected you to suddenly be so handsy as you palmed along the hard length of his cock. 

“What’s up, sweetheart? Can’t wait?” 

“You’re… bigger than Katsuki?” 

Your question was met with a chuckle, Kirishima’s grin breaking his face as he allowed you to touch him. “Don’t let him hear you admit that. Not by much, but yeah, sure. Take a look.” 

With his permission, you pulled his pants down just enough to allow his cock to spring free, a shocked squeak nearly escaping your throat at the sight of him. It was true, he wasn’t any longer than Bakugou, but his girth was much more impressive. His flushed tip was pierced just as Bakugou’s had been, but he sported a bar through the underside of the blushing head that you recognized as a prince albert. For a moment, you wondered if all the band members had their dicks pierced, but that thought was quickly pushed to the back of your mind as his cock gave an impatient twitch. 

Without much consideration of the consequences, you took it into your hands, beginning to lightly pump and spread his precum around the tip and down his shaft. Kirishima gave a relieved sigh at your touch, resting one arm behind his head so he could relax and watch you. “Ah fuck… that’s it, nice and slow. Why don’t you spit on it a little, huh?” 

Leaning forward, you passionately rolled your tongue around his tip, before pulling back a bit and allowing your saliva to flow freely, using your hand to spread it down his length. The groan he gave made a smile creep across your lips as you sat back up from him, using both of your hands to stroke his cock with a firmer grip. “How’s that?” 

“Incredible. Fuck, babe… Let me see those pretty tits, huh?” 

Since your dress had low cut sleeves to begin with, it was easy for you to slip your arms out of them, before pulling the fabric down to expose your breasts to him. Not wearing a bra, they slipped easily from the tight dress, revealing your hard nipples and cute jeweled piercings. Leaning forward a bit closer to him, you continued to stroke his cock with the soft plushness of your chest around him, watching his face closely for any sign of approval. His usually smug or cheerful expression was hazed over with lust, crimson eyes watching your every move. He looked so cute and innocent, just like the man you had always seen on social media, and you loved that you had reduced him back to being his softer self just with a touch and a flash of your tits. 

Scooting your hips back a bit and propping yourself up on your knees, you leaned in and took him fully into your mouth, starting with just a sweet tease to his tip before taking him all the way down to the base. Kirishima immediately groaned and tensed beneath you, his large hand coming down to rest on the back of your head, gathering up your hair to keep it out of the way for you. “Oh fuck, damn it! Look at you, taking my cock so well. Such a good girl-” 

Suddenly, the sound of the door opening startled you both and you nearly gagged from the sudden pressure Kirishima put on the back of your head. Unable to move and unable to see, all you could do was listen to the booming voice from behind you while you tried to find some room to breathe with the cock down your throat. 

“You horny fuckers couldn’t even wait until I got back?” Bakugou’s voice was followed by the sound of the door slamming shut, along with the click of the lock. “I spend all that fucking time down there getting drinks for us and you decide to fool around without me?!” 

“Hey man, I didn’t start this! She wanted to suck my dick herself. Oh shit, sorry, sweetheart!” Kirishima released your head as you whined and wiggled to try and get yourself free, allowing you to come up. Coughing, you glowered up at Kirishima as you placed a hand over your throat, spitting the excess saliva that had gathered in your mouth onto his cock in retaliation. 

“Oh did she?” Bakugou came up behind you, putting the drinks down on the table before taking a hold of your hair and pulling you back so you were looking up at him. “And what about that little show you put on against the windows? Whose idea was that?” 

Your face flushed, stomach bubbling nervously as your fears that he could tell were confirmed. And yet, you only grew hotter, biting down onto your bottom lip as you peered up at him though your lashes. For a moment, you considered lying and saying that you had started it all, just to see what he would do, but the ever honest Kirishima spoke up first. 

“I couldn’t help it, man. She has a nice ass. But I didn’t tell her to act all obvious, she just couldn’t control herself.” 

“That’s because she’s nothing but a slut.” Still using his grip on your hair, Bakugou forced you back down so that your lips were pressed against the wet tip of Kirishima’s cock, not giving you any other choice but to open your mouth and take him in. Again, your head was forced all the way down to his pelvis, your nose pressing against his skin. As you whined, your eyes began to tear up from the pressure and uncomfortable presence deep in your throat, digging your nails into Kirishima’s hips to try and stop him from shifting beneath you. 

Struggling to breathe through your nose, you could feel your dress being pushed up around your hips, Bakugou’s free hand gripping your ass and spreading you open with no regard for the stinging welts he had left earlier that night. “Fuck, what the hell are these? Did you expect to get fucked tonight, baby?” His rough fingers stroked along your lace panties, before pulling them down away from your hips and to your thighs. “Look how fucking wet you are, too. Did that moron make you cum?” 

When he released your head, you pulled up slowly, gazing up at Kirishima to watch his flushed face and listen to his groans. Once your lips left him, you didn’t bother to spit or clean up the thick saliva and precum that dribbled from your tongue, using it to instead stroke him firmly with both hands. “Yes, Katsuki,” You choked out through your sore throat, arching your hips further up as Bakugou gripped your ass with both hands, spreading you open to watch your twitching cunt. “He made me cum while you watched. While the whole club could see.” 

“Did you like that I was watching?” Bakugou ran his thumb in slow circles against your clit. “Did that get you off, you nasty fuck?” 

“Mm, yes-” Your pace quickened, almost hypnotized by the way Kirishima reacted to your touch as Bakugou teased you. “I loved it.” 

“And how did he make you cum, huh?” The sound of a zipper and shifting clothing was lost behind his voice and the pounding in your ears. As your lips pressed against the tip of Kirishima’s cock to prepare to take him again, a moan interrupted you, your hips arching back up into Bakugou’s touch as two of his fingers slipped into your wet pussy. “Did he finger your slutty cunt?” 

“Yes,” Spurred on by the pleasure, you ran your tongue up and down along Kirishima’s throbbing shaft, your free hand pushing his joggers further down out of the way so you could cup and massage his balls. Kirishima gave a grunt, reaching down to dig his fingers into your hair again. 

“C’mon, sweetheart, tell him the truth.” 

“The truth? Tch, I bet I know what he did.” Removing his fingers from within you, they both slid up to your asshole, sinking in with ease and making your entire body shudder with a moan. “Your ass, huh? I should have fucking known. Fine, then.” Shifting his hips closer, you could feel the presence of his cock between your cheeks when he removed his hand, gripping your hips instead. “Let me fill up this slutty little hole for you.” 

Before you could truly ground yourself, the tip of his thick cock slipped into your asshole with just as much ease as his fingers, forcing a sharp gasp from your lips. Biting down onto your bottom lip as he sunk in inch by inch, you buried your face into Kirishima’s pelvis, your entire body trembling. Just as before, his size was more than you had ever taken before in either hole, and he left you feeling full and breathless. 

“K-Katsuki--!” 

“That’s right, babygirl. Moan my fucking name.” With a rough snap of his hips to start his quick pace, you cried out against Kirishima’s skin, your hand leaving his cock to instead dig your nails into his toned stomach. “How’s my fat cock feel, huh? Stretching your tight asshole-- ah fuck, baby!” As you constricted around him in response to the pleasure and his filthy mouth, he only fucked you faster and harder, his balls slapping against your clit and sending jolts of hot white pleasure through your body. 

For a while, you were completely engrossed in the feeling of his cock inside you, until a smack of Kirishima’s cock to your cheek reminded you that he was still here, too. Although it was nearly impossible for you to hold back your voice, you sat up and took his cock into your mouth again, using the pleasure to push yourself harder to please him more aggressively. 

“Ah shit! Damn!” Kirishima once again gripped onto your head, but with both hands this time. “Wait, wait! Hold still-” Using his grip on your head, he shifted his legs a bit, using new leverage to begin thrusting his hips up to fuck your mouth at his own pace. Completely at their mercy, you supported yourself with your arms against the couch, your eyes once again tearing up from the rough throat fucking and pleasure abusing your mind. The moans and filthy, lewd wet noises that came from your mouth were uncontrollable, as was the saliva and tears that coated Kirishima’s cock. 

It was painful.

It was hot. 

It was an absolute dream. 

And yet, you wanted more. You wanted these men to completely destroy you, to leave you as nothing but a twitching mess leaking their cum. 

“Want to swallow my cum, sweetheart?” 

With Kirishima’s question, you found the chance to try and get your way, giving a miniscule shake of your head as you reached up to try and push his hands off you. Bakugou scoffed, not letting up on his pace. 

“The fuck? Just cum, don’t ask her-” 

“Shut up, man, she’s trying to say something,” Allowing you up off his cock, you took a moment to cough, which was difficult behind your urge to moan and gasp in air. 

“I want both of your cocks inside me!” You finally choked out when you had a chance, gazing up at Kirishima with your flushed, teary and begging expression. “Please fill me up with both of your cocks! I need them!” A squeak escaped your lips as Bakugou grabbed you by the arms, pulling you up against his chest as his hand wrapped around your neck. 

“Beg harder,” He growled in your ear, one hand gripping your breast as he fucked you harder. For a moment, your mind went blank with the pleasure, unsure of what you had even wanted outside of Bakugou’s dick buried so deep inside of you. The pleasure in your core was near cracking, and as you looked down at Kirishima to see him pumping his own cock at the sight of you being ruined, it only spiked higher. 

“I want you to both fuck me! Please! Please, Katsuki, I’m begging you! I-- aah, fuck! Fuck!” Leaning your head back, it wasn’t another second before you came hard, your body tensing in his grip and rocking back against his hips as they also came to a stop from how hard you squeezed around him. Giving a low growl in satisfaction, Bakugou held your body tightly back against him, digging his cock as deep into you as he could get with a light bucking of his hips. 

“Oh fuck, babygirl, that’s it. Such a naughty bitch, cumming from being fucked in the ass like that. And you still want more, huh?” Bakugou spoke low in your ear, and although you were beyond high on the release, you found it within yourself to nod. 

Smirking against your cheek, Bakugou removed his cock from you. “Fine then.” While you were still trying to regain control of your dizzy mind, he gave you a rough nudge, forcing your weak and trembling body to fall forward onto Kirishima. The redhead caught you by the arms to help you steady yourself, giving an annoyed huff as he guided you up to straddle his hips. 

“Watch it, man! She could have crushed my dick, then I’d be outta luck!” 

“Shut the fuck up. I’m sick of waiting, if you don’t get a move on, I’m kicking your fucking ass out of here.” 

“Boys, boys.” You pushed yourself up on your arms so you were balanced on all fours, smiling down at Kirishima through your lustful haze. “There’s no need to argue.” Reaching down between your bodies, you took hold of Kirishima’s cock, holding it steady as you ran your dripping wet sex along it, teasing your sensitive clit. “I’m here for you both to use me. As much as you want.” Looking back over your shoulder, you caught Bakugou’s glare, though it quickly flicked back down to your hips as you began to lower yourself down onto Kirishima’s cock, letting him slip into your pussy slowly. “You like watching, Katsuki?” 

Bakugou scoffed, his face flushing. “You’d better fucking watch it, whore. Don’t forget who owns your stupid ass.” 

“But I love it when you watch me,” You let out an airy moan as Kirishima filled you up all the way to the base, not leaving a single inch of you untouched. “Just to know that I turn you on so much without even having to touch you. Even if it’s another man… Even if it’s Kiri’s fat cock inside me. It makes me so happy, Katsuki.” Steading yourself with your hands against Kirishima’s stomach, you began to roll your hips, sighing and cursing softly from the pleasure. “Fuck, so big! Both of your cocks are so big and perfect!” 

As Kirishima gripped onto your hips tightly, he was immediately taken over by the euphoria he felt being buried so deep within your wet pussy, using his strength to guide your body to start bouncing on his cock instead. “That’s it, sweetheart. Fuck, your pussy is so tight!” It wasn’t another few seconds before he couldn’t resist thrusting his hips up into you, holding you steady as he ravaged your wet and clenching cunt at his own pace. He was hard and rough, slamming into you like a man starved, desperate for the pleasure and release he craved. “You’re such a perfect little slut.” 

Now forced to lean forward, weak arms propping you up on either side of his body, you allowed him to fuck you as he wished, each slam of his tip against your cervix blurring your vision with white sparks of pleasure. The way his thick cock filled you up and his piercing rubbed against your inner walls was building up your pleasure so rapidly that your body became completely weak, arms collapsing under you until you were laying on his chest. Somehow, you found the mental focus to look over your shoulder, your body flushing hotter at the sight of Bakugou eagerly pumping his own cock, his glare locked on the way that Kirishima was using you. 

“Ka- Katsuki,” You choked out through your moans, doing everything you could to keep hold of your mind for just a moment longer. “Please watch me while I cum! Please! A-ah! Kiri, w-wait, I--!” As the redhead grew rougher with you, there wasn’t anything you could do to hold back the pleasure any longer, and your orgasm ripped through your body like a spark of lightning, making your entire body tense and tremble. “Fuck! Fucking hell, that fat cock is so fucking good!” 

“Damn right it is, sweetheart.” Kirishima landed a hard smack to your currently unmarked asscheek. “You like being fucked by big cocks?” 

“Yes… I’ve never had cocks like this though…” You turned your face more into the skin of his chest, ignoring the sweat and drool. “Both of you… So perfect…” 

“We aren’t even done with you yet, sweetheart.” Taking hold of your ass in both hands, Kirishima spread you open, addressing the blond that still sat behind you, who was oddly quiet and patient. “C’mon, man. Let’s give her what she really wants.” 

For a moment, you felt embarrassed at the fact that Kirishima was holding your cheeks apart, your pussy still stuffed with his cock and your asshole twitching in anticipation. Looking over your shoulder again, you caught Bakugou’s gaze, the pleading expression in your eyes instantly bringing a wicked and excited smirk to his lips. That initial embarrassment spiked, holding your breath as Bakugou came in closer, taking over the task of holding your ass open. 

The tip of his cock, hot and blushing with the need for his own release, teased your tight, unoccupied hole, the feeling of his frenum piercing rolling across your skin bringing a whimper from your throat. You wanted it so much that it was nearly painful to have to wait like this. You felt powerless in the situation, only able to wait for them to decide to begin, and the anticipation was making your stomach flutter and roll. The butterflies escaped your lips with the sound of a small plea, barely audible even by you, but Bakugou was quick to take notice. 

“What’s that, babygirl?” 

“P-please…” You pushed the word out with your strangled breath, still watching him from over your shoulder. “Please don’t make me keep waiting!” You bit down onto your bottom lip as his thumb rolled over the waiting hole, teasingly dipping it in to the first knuckle. “Mm... Katsuki--” A sharp gasp escaped your lips as he landed a rough spank to your already bruised and abused cheek from earlier that night in the dressing room, the spike of pain making your body tense. Kirishima groaned and wiggled beneath you, his hips bucking lightly impatiently as your core squeezed tightly around him in reaction to the pain. 

“Aah fuck! Shit, sweetheart, don’t squeeze so tight like that, it’s hard enough not to fuck your brains out right now.” 

“What’s the matter? She’s too tight for ya?” Bakugou landed another hard, full palmed smack to your ass, forcing a sharp moan from your lips and your tensing body bringing Kirishima into another series of squirming. “I’m surprised you’re still in this, you’re usually a two-pump chump!” Then, the instant your body calmed, he shoved his entire length into you in one fell swoop, his hips meeting with the red plushness of your ass. “Fuck… How can she be such a perfect little slut?” 

The sudden feeling of being so full knocked all the air out of your lungs, your back arching to try to accommodate them both, digging your nails into the fabric of the couch. Your mind was so overwhelmed with the pressure that you could barely hear Kirishima snapping back at Bakugou for the insult he had given him, only hearing the sound of his voice without comprehending words. They were both buried so deep inside you that you worried you might split apart if they started moving, and with that realization, another came to the front of your dizzy mind. 

You’ve never had two dicks inside you at the same time. 

Never. 

With how excited and desperate you had been for it, the men must have assumed that you had and weren’t going to go easy on you. You wanted to speak, to say anything to tell them the truth, but you found it nearly impossible to pull enough air into your lungs to speak. They were about to absolutely ruin you, and you wondered in that moment if you’d be able to take it, or if you’d beg for mercy with the first thrust. 

It was Kirishima who moved first, thrusting his hips upwards slow and shallow, forcing a cry from your throat and your eyes to clench shut, hiding in his chest. “Shh, sweetheart, we got you.” Since Bakugou was holding onto your hips, Kirishima’s hands were free to caress you, one on your side and the other on the back of your head. With his tender touch, however, came longer strokes of his cock inside you, the overwhelming presence pushing tears from behind your closed eyelids. “Just breathe.” 

Bakugou, however, was not as merciful. He picked up on Kirishima’s rhythm, pulling himself all the way out to the tip before plunging back into your tense and constricting asshole. Bakugou hissed, digging his fingers into your plush hips, his blunt nails stinging your skin. “Fucking hell, babygirl, you’re just sucking me right in. Damn-!” A groan escaped him as he picked up his pace, your body starting to rock between them as the skin of his pelvis slapped against your red and abused cheeks. 

“A-ah, Katsuki-!” You nearly screamed out in shock, though your face was still buried into Kirishima’s chest. “Not so fast! Please!” 

“Oh no, babe. You begged for this. We’re giving you exactly what you asked for.” 

As if picking up on a cue, Kirishima also increased his pace, until they were both thrusting into you as deep as they could possibly get, hard and fast. Though, with their increased pace came a new feeling washing over you, pushing past the dull, uncomfortable pain. They were filling up every inch of you, caressing you and staying as perfectly in sync as they could, doing everything they could to pleasure you. And that was all you could feel. 

The pleasure. 

It pulsed through every inch of you like shockwaves, sending it rocketing up your body and down your limbs. There was no other word that you could think of to describe it besides “perfect”, and you knew that there would never be another set of men in your entire life that could make you feel this way. That could use you like this, making you feel so vulnerable yet adored at the same time. No matter the reason, these two men who you loved dearly, wanted you. 

And damn, you were happy. 

“Fuck, yes-!” You finally choked out, finding a smidgen of strength to allow you to prop yourself up on your elbows. Still, your head hung slack, your tear-filled eyes rolled up and mouth open with unending moans. “Your cocks feel so good inside me!” 

“There she is,” Deep groan reverberating in his chest from your encouragement, Bakugou increased his place, giving you another firm slap on the ass. “That’s right, you slut. Now tell me who you belong to.” 

“You! You, Katsuki-!” 

“-And?”

“-Kiri! I belong to both of you! I’m your little slut, please do whatever you want with me! Just please don’t stop, I want to feel your cum inside me!” 

If you were honest, you weren’t sure how long they ravaged you like this. You came again, before your body was just too overly stimulated, and all you could do was lay there against Kirishima’s chest, moaning and trembling constantly. There wasn’t a rational or clear thought in your head, only able to focus on their dicks inside you, and their increasingly loud moans and grunts. 

They were getting close. 

“Fucking shit-” Bakugou was barely able to get the curse out before his hips began to shutter, his thrusts becoming erratic and shallow until he released inside of you, the hot feeling of his cum pulling you back into full consciousness. You peeked at him over your shoulder the best you could through your wild hair, finding his flushed, sweaty, and satisfied image endearing. You felt so empty with his exit, but you didn’t have much time to focus on that, as Kirishima immediately scooped you up and flipped you both over so you were beneath him. 

Smirk on his lips, he bent your legs back up to your chest, his pace and depth only increasing and sending you into another round of incoherent moans. 

“That’s it, sweetheart. I want to see that pretty face when I fill you up with my cum.” 

Clutching onto his arms tightly, your nails dug into his biceps as your eyes stayed locked on the way his hips moved, almost hypnotized by the sight of his cock slamming in and out of your abused cunt. The veiny girth that was absolutely coated in your slick found no resistance, and with this new visual paired with the feeling of rapid dragging along your clenching walls, you could feel another orgasm peaking fast. “K-Kiri-!” 

“Going to cum on my fat cock again, huh? Go on- Ah, oh fuck-!” A hiss escaped through his teeth as you came, your entire body quivering, cunt clenching around him and head leaning back. Your moans hitched and shook uncontrollably, unsure of exactly how loud you were as your mind fogged over with the endless waves of pleasure paired with the new heat that flooded your core with Kirishima’s release. The redhead that pinned you down was rough with his release, his hips rutting against yours with sharp snaps and deep grinding, which only prolonged your release until you were nothing but a limp, trembling mess. 

“Look at you. You’re so damn pretty.” Kirishima’s voice barely registered in your mind, as did the clicking sound of a phone taking pictures. “Bakugou, come hold her legs back.” 

Your teary gaze landed on Bakugou as he came to stand near your head, taking your calves into his hands and pulling them back so you were further contorted. With the movement, Kirishima removed his cock from within you, leaving you feeling incredibly empty, though the heat of his cum leaking out of you was very noticeable. With a whine as your knees were pressed on either side of your head, you weakly gripped onto Bakugou’s hands, looking up at him with exhausted, innocent curiosity. Fluffy blonde hair stuck to his face that was coated with sweat, Bakugou smirked down at you, glancing over every inch of your body. 

“Fuck babygirl, you should see yourself. You’re a mess.” 

You swallowed hard against your dry and aching throat, smiling softly as your hand traveled up and down his forearm tenderly. “All… all for you.” The sound of the phone's camera going off finally got your attention and you looked at Kirishima instead, your stomach fluttering nervously at the sight of him snapping pictures of your body. “P-pictures…?” 

“I’ve never seen a pussy this pretty, sweetheart. And it’s just dripping with my jizz… Your ass is, too, with your cheeks all fucking red from Bakugou spanking you. You’re a damn masterpiece, baby. I should have recorded this whole thing.” Obviously filming now, Kirishima ran his thumb from your asshole up along your cunt and to your clit, dragging the mess of cum with him. After a few teasing rolls of your clit, he brought his thumb up to your mouth, not even having to say a word before you opened wide to suck the digit clean. “Damn that’s hot.” 

“Save that recording shit for later. There will be plenty to shoot back at the hotel. Right, babygirl?” Bakugou released your legs, allowing you to close them and rest them comfortably to the side. Once your mouth was free of Kirishima’s fingers, you licked your lips, eyes locked on your celebrity crush as he gazed down at you expectantly. 

Any rational thought that should have peaked in your mind was smothered by a screaming need to stay with him, to do whatever he wanted just so that you could be in his presence for as long as possible. Before you knew it, you were up on trembling knees, turning to face him and timidly clutching on tightly to the front of his shirt. “Yes, Katsuki. Anything you want.” 

“That’s right,” Bakugou pulled you in closer, latching his arms around your torso and kissing you with a gentle passion that sent your heart racing. “You’ll do anything for me.” 

“And for me.” Kirishima came up to press himself against your back, his hands tightly on your hips as he kissed your cheek playfully. You couldn’t resist a soft giggle from escaping your lips, both of your arms wrapping around Bakugou’s torso tightly. 

“Mm, yes! Anything for both of you-” 

KNOCK KNOCK

“Hey, are you three done in there yet!? Hurry up! We have girls and more drinks, and I have to piss!” 

“The couches better still be clean!” 

Kirishima chuckled, releasing you with a final pat to your backside before hopping up and fixing his clothes back into proper place. “Shit, sorry, just a sec!” 

Bakugou, however, didn’t bother responding to them, kissing you again tenderly while pulling your dress back down to cover your hips. “I hope you’re ready, babygirl.” 

“For what?” 

“The afterparty is just getting started. I hope that partying with your favorite band will be everything you ever dreamed of.” 

“As long as I get to be close to you, Katsuki, I’ll do anything. Anything at all.” 

“That’s my good girl.”

[evieonic]

I love your blog!! I was wondering if you would write about platonic Yuuji getting tickled by Gojo & Megumi? Tysm!

Hi Anon! I'm so sorry it took so long to get this posted, I had a tough time coming up with ideas and then I got sick but it's all good now! Thank you for your patience. This is what I came up with, I hope you enjoy it. This fic can also read on ao3 if you'd prefer to read it there.

Remedy For A Broken Heart (Published:  08/15/2021)

Pairing: Platonic only, characters: Gojo, Yuuji, and Megumi

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Trigger Warning: None, though technically contains a break-up and non-consensual tickling though it's all in good fun.

Length: 1595 Words, 1 Chapter. Completed.

Summary: Yuuji's heart got broken by some chick at school and absolutely refuses to go to class. Megumi takes it into his own hands to get the strawberry blond happy again by calling Gojo-sensei who has some... talented tickling fingers.

------------------------------------ Megumi sighed as he stared down at the miserable sight below him. Yuuji was curled up in his bed with the covers over himself, completely ignoring the world. There were tissues littering the bed with tubs of empty ice cream on the nightstand. There was only one explanation for a sight like this.

Yuuji… got his heart broken.

“Yuuji,” Megumi sighed once more, pulling off the covers, “I know your heart is broken and the world seems to be ending, but you still have classes.”

“No!” Yuuji grumbled, pulling the covers back over his head with a yank, “tell them I'm sick or something.”

Megumi rolled his eyes, “Yuuji, it’ll be a good distraction.”

Yuuji only curled further into his bed, completely ignoring the boy. Megumi had never seen Yuuji this depressed before. It honestly concerned him. He placed his chin in his hand, his other on his hip as he took a moment to come up with an idea. What could possibly cheer up Yuuji? Talking about girls wouldn’t help, it’d only remind him of his loss. Maybe ice cream? No, the poor boy has had enough. A movie? No, he wouldn’t focus.

His mind raced with ideas until bingo, he had it. He smirked slightly as he folded his arms over his chest, “alright. Suit yourself.” He took his phone out of his pocket, dialing his emergency cheer up number. He knew it was going to work because Yuuji had done the exact same thing when Megumi was feeling down.

He grinned slightly as the familiar voice answered, “hello?”

“Gojo-sensei, I apologize for bothering you so close to class…,” Megumi began. He always felt a little bad for calling Gojo for anything that seemed minor.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, I'm here to help! What can I do for you?”

“Well, Yuuji got his heart broken so he refuses to go to class, so I was wondering if you could-” Megumi hadn’t gotten most of the words out when Gojo suddenly hung up. “H-Hello? Gojo?”

Megumi lowered his phone, looking at the ID in confusion, about to redial Gojo’s number when suddenly, their dorm room door was blown off of it’s hitches, hitting the wall with a hard impact.

“AYO I HEARD SOMEONE WAS SAD IN HERE,” A voice yelled and Megumi immediately realized what happened. Gojo had kicked down the door.

“Gojo-'' Megumi started, anger evident in his voice, but he was interrupted by Yuuji suddenly perking up, frightened by the sound of their door crumbling down.

He blinked. He glanced at Megumi, then glanced at Gojo.

And then he realized exactly what they had planned.

Megumi couldn’t help but smirk as he saw Yuuji suddenly remember that the last time Megumi was sad, he had called Gojo over and the two of them practically tickled him to death, making his sadness go away. Megumi had sworn revenge ever since that day. Today was a perfect opportunity.

“W-Wait,” Yuuji began, sinking back underneath his covers as Gojo’s eyes narrowed at him, “w-wait, there’s been a mistake, I’m-”

Gojo was making a beeline to him now.

“W-WAIT, I’m fine! Gojo, I’m- eheh !” Giggles were already catching in his throat, bringing a smile to Megumi’s face.

“Nurse, hold him down!” Gojo ordered. Megumi immediately obeyed, though cringed at being called a nurse. He held Yuuji down by his arms while Gojo yanked his covers away.

“N-N-NO! I’m fine, Gojo, I’m good!” Yuuji stammered, panicking before turning his gaze to Megumi, giving him his finest death glare, “why did you call him, you traitor?!”

“Revenge,” Megumi said.

“How?! You needed that and you know you did!”

“Well, you also need this so…,” Megumi shrugged, “point denied.”

Gojo hummed in thought as he straddled Yuuji, looking at him and thought, “hmm, I see, I see. I can see the sadness is located here,” he poked at Yuuji’s chest, right where his heart was, “we will need to prepare for an emergency tickle session.”

“Yes doctor,” Megumi nodded, falling into the scene Gojo was creating.

Yuuji only looked at them both as if they were idiots, “the fuck is wrong with you two? Can you please let me just be sad in peace, it’s okay to be sad every now and then- it’s healthy!”

“See, now that’s a symptom of extreme sadness, which means you’re too far gone,” Gojo said seriously, shaking his head. “He’s worse than I thought. Are you ready, nurse?”

“Yes doctor.”

“Can you two at least not be weird about this?!” Yuuji complained once more but Gojo ignored him, rubbing his hands together as if he was about to use a defibrillator on him.

“Clear!” He shouted before placing his hands on Yuuji’s sides and wiggling his fingers about.

The effect was immediate. Yuuji squirmed and thrashed about, forcing Megumi to hold on tighter, keeping him pressed on the bed as laughter filtered out of his mouth. “GAHAHA-! Nohohohohoho!! Staaahap! Staahp!” He giggled, trying with all his might to buck Gojo off, but the teacher was unfortunately too heavy.

“Seems like the medicine is working, nurse,” Gojo said, a hint of a smile on his lips as he continued his attack, “perhaps we should administer it to all locations of depression.”

“I agree, doctor,” Megumi smiled, nodding as he watched Yuuji smile with glee, despite the fact that his happiness was somewhat forced right now.

“I think I can see this being a huge problem area,” Gojo said, digging his fingers into Yuuji’s ribs, making him cackle with laughter, “oh yes, this whole area is pretty bad.”

“P-Pleehehehese,” Yuuji wheezed out, gasping for air as Gojo continued his treatment, “I cahahan’t breeeeathe!”

“Oof,” was all Gojo responded with.

“Gojo!!!”

“Well are you not sad yet?” He asked, halting his fingers for just a moment.

“I’m more pissed off than anything,” Yuuji grumbled, panting and glaring at his teacher.

His teacher only raised an eyebrow before thrusting his hands underneath Yuuji’s shirt, his fingers scribbling against Yuuji’s sensitive skin, making him howl with laughter. “NOOOAHAHA! Y-YOU BASTARD!”

“Nurse, he’s becoming critical!” Gojo grinned. “I need a hand stat!”

Megumi smirked, immediately catching on to what Gojo meant, “yes doctor!”

Yuuji caught the look in his eyes, squirming more vigorously in attempt to get away, “oh no, no you don’t, no you fucking don’t, don’t you da- PFFFAAHAHAHA!!” he erupted with laughter, the sound turning into a wheeze as Megumi, wiggling his fingers around his armpits, stimulating the sensitive nerves there. He had his knees pressed down on Yuuji’s hands, preventing him from moving his arms and keeping him vulnerable.

“T-T-T-This is t-t-torture, ahaha!” Yuuji wheezed, the words barely audible.

“It’s called medicine, actually,” Gojo said, “thought I guess depending on the medicine, it is torture.”

“Y-Y-You’re - ahahaha! - b-both - heh - s-stupid,” Yuuji giggled, his words distorted. Gojo and Megumi both only smiled down at him.

“Sorry, what was that?” Gojo smirked

“Aahahasshole!”

“Are you going to stop being sad?” Megumi asked, digging his fingers into Yuuji’s sensitive nerves, gently moving them to his neck, scribbling underneath his chin. “Are you going to get out of bed, make yourself happy and go to class?”

“Y-You cahahahan’t just autaha-automaahatically make sohohomeone hahappy!” He whimpered, trying with all his might to yeet them off but having no luck. He simply just had to lay there, as their fingers sparked up giggle after giggle. It was so unfair.

But finally, after a while, Megumi and Gojo both slowed to a stop. Yuuji made a breathless giggle, his eyes wet with happy tears as he blinked a few times before glancing at them both, confused, “Y-You… finally stopped?”

“Depends. Did we cure the sadness?” Gojo asked with a smile.

“If I say yes, will you guys sto- AHAHA!! WHA- HEY?!” Yuuji glared at the sudden tickling done by Megumi. He only smirked, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

“Just making sure you know we can keep going with this treatment all night long,” Megumi said.

“Yes,” Gojo nods, “I am the top rated doctor in the nation, I don’t let my patients leave when I know they need more treatment.”

“I hate you both.”

Megumi chuckled and rolled his eyes, “come on, Yuuji. I know it’s rough, but you can’t stay like this.”

Yuuji sighed, finally letting himself lose the sad attitude. He was sad that he got dumped but to be honest, he didn’t really like the girl anyway. It just hurt his ego more than anything. He slowly nodded, “okay, I’m fine.”

“Is that the honest truth?” Megumi asked, moving his fingers slowly in a silent threat.

“Yes!” Yuuji said, “It is, I swear.”

Gojo and Megumi exchanged a look of doubt before finally nodding. “Okay,” Gojo shrugged, “we believe you. Now we can go get you ice cream.”

“Eh? Ice cream?” Yuuji said, instantly perking up from that.

“You know how doctors give their patients lollipops at the end of their treatment? I don’t have any lollipops so… ice cream,” Gojo said, getting up off of the poor young boy, Megumi quickly following him.

“You know if you just gave me ice cream first, I would’ve been easily healed,” Yuuji said, rolling his eyes as he sat up.

“You’ve been eating ice cream all day with that same sulky look in your eyes, ice cream wouldn’t have the same effect as it will now,” Megumi said, smiling softly as Gojo nodded, completely agreeing with him while Yuuji glared.

“Again, I hate you both,” he pouted.

“Yes we know. Now, where do you want your ice cream?”

[boygirlmeetsworld]

Messy.

ONE-SHOT

Word count: 2793

Disclaimer:  One piece and all it’s characters belong to Eiichiro Oda, I just like to write about them.

Warning: None

Rating: T (i guess?? there’s cursing)

Author’s Note: Whale, this is the first fanfic I’ve posted on the interwebs since high school so please keep that in mind, lol. I do plan to finish it sooner than later so check back in a few days if you want to read the rest, sorry I don’t have it all done right now.  At long last it it FINISHED.

Feel free to tell me what u think! Unless it’s mean, then I ask that u keep those thoughts in ur noggin because I’m just writing these for fun not for grades.

Without further ado, here ya go.

Author’s Note pt 2: So i didn’t end up going the smut route like I originally planned, but I think it worked out better bc this one got nice and Emotional.

Summary: Zoro really shouldn’t agree to be Nami’s drinking partner if he wanted to keep their friendship from getting... Complicated.

__________________________________________

The moon was floating high in the night sky when Nami wandered onto the deck, unable to sleep even after a few hours of sketching. 

She wanted company – specifically, she wanted the company of the crew’s resident alcoholic. It only took a few minutes to find him on the lawn deck with his back against a tree and his eye closed. ‘How typical.’

Nami smiled a small, excited smile as she strode over to him and squatted between his parted legs. An unconscious sigh left her nose as she swept her gaze up and down his face. She caught herself thinking, ‘He really is easy on the eyes isn’t he.’ ....again. 

Who was she kidding? She’d been thinking the same thing every time she looked his way lately. 

Two years ago she’d been able to keep the immature crush she had on him locked tightly away but somehow - it had gotten out and was slowly consuming her entire being. 

Nami hoped he hadn’t noticed how often she invited him to drink with her because she didn’t think she could handle being rejected. So she settled for spending time alone with him whenever and however she could. 

“Hey, moss-head,” the navigator said finally, leaning in to squint at him, “Are you asleep?”

He had literally just settled down for a nice cat nap when the navigator appeared suddenly to interrupt him. ‘Damn. What the hell did she want now?’ 

Instead of answering, Zoro chose to ignore her and pretend like he was deep asleep. ‘Why won’t she go bother someone else?’

Nami started prodding his cheek with one finger to rouse him if he really was sleeping, ”Zorooo wake up, I wanna drink,” she whined and his eyelid opened instantly.

‘Why’s she so damn pretty..’ was the first thought he had when he realized that she was a lot closer than he’d anticipated. 

He mentally chastised himself after, trying to remind his id that Nami had never once indicated that she wanted to be anything other than friends and he should respect that. 

But… There was no harm in looking from time to time was there? And she was pretty. She’d always been... ‘Oh for fuck’s sake, now he sounded like Sanji. He needed to get a grip.’

“Helloooooo,” Nami waved her hand in Zoro’s face until he snapped back to reality and snatched her wrist up, pulling it away. He scowled but it wasn’t deep, and now he was refusing to look her in the eye. “What was that about, huh Zoro?”

“Nothing.” The swordsman replied perhaps a little too quickly to avoid suspicion, “Thought I heard a noise, doesn’t matter – oi, didn’t you want to do something?” 

He couldn’t remember what exactly it was. He’d been so distracted by the way her bangs framed her face and sometimes got caught in her eyelashes—’Damnit! He was doing it again.’

Nami smirked again but didn’t press the subject anymore. She’d do that later once they started drinking. “Weren’t you listening to me? You’re so rude, maybe I should find someone else to share my booze with.”

Was it a good idea to go drink with Nami when he kept catching himself thinking about feelings that he’d been suppressing for the last two years? Probably not…

But he couldn’t just decline an opportunity to get buzzed. ‘And... Maybe he wanted to get buzzed with Nami, specifically.’  

Zoro scoffed, mostly at himself. “Quit playing games, damnit, do you want me to drink with you or not?”

“You’re so stubborn,” The navigator teased with a pleased smile that made his heart beat unevenly, “I could care less if you join me, but you’re not allowed to come unless you say you’ll be nice.”

“Nami. I am older than you, quit treating me like a fucking child or I swear-”

“That’s no way to talk to a lady who’s getting you drunk for free, Roronoa Zoro. If you can’t be nice then I’ll just add the cost of everything you drink to your debt and-”

Zoro didn’t have time to ruminate over the way hearing her say his full name made him shiver because he had to shut her up before she did charge him. 

“Okay, okay. I’ll be... nice.” He hissed through gritted teeth and her answering giggle made his pulse flutter. He had to fight to keep himself from smiling. ‘What the hell was going on with him tonight? Was he sick?’

“Good boy,” she turned and started walking towards the Sunny’s aquarium bar, glancing back over her shoulder to make sure he was coming.

“Don’t push your luck, woman.” Zoro snarled to mask his confusion over the sudden need to touch her that he felt scratching at the back of his head. He really shouldn’t agree to be Nami’s drinking partner if he wanted to keep their friendship from getting... Complicated.

He knew it, but he followed her up the stairs all the same.

                                                       * * *

“Why d’you always want to drink with me anyway, witch?” Skeptical of her intentions, his narrowed eye fixed itself on Nami as she approached him holding two maroon tinted bottles. She offered one to him and he accepted it – but he didn’t let his guard down yet.

Zoro lowered his gaze to check the label out, whistling long and low when he read 23% alcohol per volume. A couple puzzle pieces clicked together in his head ‘Oh, that’s why. Because if she tried to drink this with anyone else they’d pass out after two glasses.’

“Would you believe that I just like hanging out with you?” Though her tone was teasing she was actually being genuine, she had a lot of fun with him whenever they went out.

“No–“ He paused when Nami kicked him in the shin hard enough to make him swear. Reaching down with his free hand he rubbed the sore patch of skin and glared daggers at his crewmate. “What the fuck was that for?!”

“You said you’d be nice, Zoro! So be nice or I’ll charge you a hundred thousand beris for that bottle.” Nami uncorked hers but waited to hand the corkscrew over until he behaved himself. The look he was giving her would probably frighten a small child but she didn’t flinch.

‘This was his choice.’ He reminded himself. Of his own free will he chose to get drunk with Nami instead of napping, and that meant dealing with her bossiness no matter how much he loathed it. ‘Sometimes he just wanted to grab her by the shoulders and make her shut up, there were better things her mouth could be doing anyway-‘

“Why do you keep staring at me like that, do I have a zit or something?”

Zoro sat up so fast that he banged his shoulder on the underside of the countertop. ‘What the hell was that? What the hell was wrong with him?’ He hadn’t even opened the damn bottle and he was already making himself look like an idiot.

“No,” the swordsman grumbled, wracking his brain for a believable excuse, “Just thinking about how I’ll owe you money even after I’m dead if you keep charging me for bullshit.” That made her laugh and Zoro cursed himself for how much he liked hearing it. “Don’t see how it’s funny for me, witch.”

Nami let him take the corkscrew from her, eyes crinkled with amusement while he opened his bottle. “You’ll just have to stay alive until you pay me back in full, I guess!” She trilled before taking a long, heavy drink from hers.

“Yeah?” Zoro snorted before mimicking her and downing about half of the wine in the container. It tasted disgusting, which he’d expected, but that didn’t make the bitter aftertaste any less miserable. His nose wrinkled slightly as he set the bottle down. “I bet even if I did try to pay you off you’d find a way to charge me more.”

“You make me sound so heartless,” the navigator batted her eyelashes innocently, pretending to look hurt, “Why would I ever do such a thing?”

“Hah.” He scoffed before chugging some more wine and failing to keep track of how much he was drinking each time. “Because you want to keep me on a leash since I don’t throw myself at you like that dumbass cook.”

An impish smirk crawled it’s way onto Nami’s face that made him immediately regret what he’d just said. ‘Fuck. Damnit!’

“So…” She began slowly, savoring every second that the swordsman spent avoiding direct eye contact with her, “You admit that you are one of my lap dogs?”

A muscle in his jaw flexed and he stopped drinking for one second to grunt, “That’s not what I said.”

“That’s what I heard!” Chimed Nami as she rose from her seat, stepping over to Zoro and tracing a finger under his jaw while he drained the last few drops of liquid. “I should get you a collar, so people know who to bring you to when you get lost.”

Normally he would have snapped at her for poking fun at his sense, or lack thereof, direction but he wasn’t listening to her. She’d come close enough for him to pick up her scent and maybe it was the alcohol intensifying his feelings, but it was suffocating him in a good way.

He loved the way she smelled. Tangerines from her soaps mixed with salty seawater and traces of sunscreen. A hint of orange blossom, but only when she was close to him like this. 

Zoro inhaled deeply through his nose and, without realizing it, his expression melted into something affectionate and gentle. ‘In two years she’d changed in so many different ways… but she still smelled the same. She still smelled like home.’

                                                        * * *

“What are you thinking about, Zoro?” Her voice void of it’s usual teasing tone, Nami’s curiosity was piqued by his sudden shift in demeanor. He looked soft and peaceful, like he didn’t have anything to worry about. She wanted to know why.

‘Ah, fuck.’ What was he supposed to tell her? That he was thinking about how good she smelled? ‘Yeah right.’ Zoro was quiet for a while, mulling over his words until he came up with an explanation that didn’t sound as creepy – but also wasn’t a lie.

“I guess..” he finally murmured, his gaze shifting to meet hers, “It’s just been a while and… I was thinking about how nice it feels to be back here, with everyone…” a brief pause then he added, “I missed you guys.” ‘Look at him being all gushy and emotional, this wine really was something else.’ Zoro reached to brush his fingertips by her temple, catching a stray lock of hair and tucking it behind her ear, “I missed you.”

When had Zoro ever been this honest with her about the way he felt? Never was the answer, but now he seemed to trust her well enough to know she wouldn’t spill his secrets. Nami took his face in both of her hands, surprising him, and pulled his head down so she could kiss his forehead. “I missed you too, Zoro.”

Something about hearing her say that she’d missed him too broke a dam in his chest that he’d been trying to keep together for two years. Hormoness flooded through his bloodstream quicker than Zoro could even process them and before he knew it he was practically throwing his arms around Nami’s waist and crushing her against his chest.

“Nami—” he pressed his face into her neck to hide the tears that he couldn’t hold back anymore. Sober he might have cared about losing it like this around her but she was here and… ‘He just – needed to hold her.’ Hold her and smell her and feel how real she was because she had almost been taken from him.

‘He’d barely begun to process what he had been through on Thriller Bark when they were attacked in Sabaody. If he tried to think back on it his memories would get hazy and his bones would ache from their very cores. He knew what had happened but it’s like his brain was protecting him from understanding how close to death he’d come. Then – to be torn away from the people he loved with all of his heart? Who he had just nearly killed himself to protect?

It had ripped him apart and rubbed salt into every wound. And it fucking hurt. The same kind of pain he felt when he saw Kuina dead on the floor of their dojo. He was scared, he was furious, he was devastated – all over again but this time it was so much worse. So, so much worse.

That was why he had trained so hard over the last two years. Because he couldn’t bear the grief that came with loving them so deeply – so he got stronger. And stronger. And stronger. No matter the cost to his body, he would become powerful enough to defeat anyone who crossed them. Then… He would never have to feel the agony that he did when he first woke up on Kuraigana Island ever again.

Taking on all of Luffy’s suffering in Thriller Bark had been the most physically painful experience of his entire life – but that was nothing compared to how much it hurt to think that his friends were gone forever, that he hadn’t been able to protect them.

Training made it easy not to think about what had happened -- but now he was home, and they were safe - and he was realizing just how close he’d come to losing all of them. At once. And he could do nothing to stop it.’

Startled by him grabbing her, Nami was prepared to give the pirate a good smack if he was getting handsy but… He started trembling. ‘Was he not feeling well?’ Her mouth opened to form the question then stopped. His breathing hitched while his entire body jerked and she realized…

‘Zoro was crying.’

Roronoa Zoro, who prided himself on his strength, was sobbing wretchedly into her neck. ‘He must have been holding this in since Sabaody.’ Nami’s heart ached for him and his stupid pride that forced him to torture himself instead of letting him cry like he needed to. She’d been expecting him to crash at some point, how couldn’t he? Even someone as strong as Zoro was still a human being.

One of her arms cradled his head while the other wound round his shoulders, her fingers combing gently through his hair. “Oh you sweet, sweet boy…” she spoke in the tone that Bellemere used to use when Nami and Nojiko were frightened by a passing thunderstorm. It always calmed her, maybe it would calm Zoro, too.

‘Quit fucking crying you loser you’re supposed to be a man.’ But he couldn’t, he literally could not stop because he was trying to. “I wasn’t strong enough,” his voice quivered at the edges and he hated it. ‘He was definitely never going to drink this kind of wine again ever. Not if it turned him into a blubbering mess like this every time.’

“Shhh, no. No. Don’t you dare try to blame yourself for what happened. Hey, look at me.” Nami urged his head off her shoulder and cupped his face in both of her palms, “None of us were strong enough, okay? Not even Luffy.” Each tear that fell she tenderly swept away with the pad of her thumb. The corner of her mouth turned up as she assured him, “But we are strong enough now. We can take care of each other. Nothing is ever going to tear us apart again, Zoro.”

‘She was right. Of course, she was right. He needed to have faith in his crewmates and his captain. They could do anything as long as they had each other.’ His breathing slowly evened out as he focused on anchoring himself back to reality. He wasn’t in Sabaody or Kuraigana – he was on the Sunny. In the bar, with Nami who had grown so much since he last saw her. The look in his eye softened like it had before his breakdown.

“You’re staring at me again, Zoro.” The navigator teased, her hands falling to rest on his shoulders. He hadn’t let go of her yet but she didn’t mind, he could hold on to her for as long as he needed.

A ghost of his usual smirk passed across his face. “Sorry, Nami…” Zoro took a little risk by leaning in to press a chaste but lingering kiss to her cheek, then traced a path with the edge of his nose to her ear, murmuring, “Wine makes me a little… Messy.”

[wistfulcynic]

from one minute to the next

A little something inspired by the prompts @winterbythesea posted here and here and here. This is not those prompts exactly (nor is it what I outlined on the discord, sorry guys) but I think it carries the same lighthearted dumbass energy as they do. 

Also, Killian Jones does not know what a ‘date’ is. Fight me, show. 

Summary: Emma’s not quite sure how it happened, but somehow she finds herself going from single and solitary in the city one minute to smoothly co-parenting with her ex, living with a pirate, and at home in a town full of storybook characters the next. 

Home. She never thought she’d have one of those. 

This is the story of how she got there. 

(also no! curse! renaissance! 3B divergence without Pan’s curse) 

<3k words  Rated T

AO3

-

from one minute to the next: 

Emma was never entirely certain how it happened. 

One minute she was telling Neal she didn’t want to get back together with him, that it was just too late for them now, and he was looking sad but in a resigned sort of way, as though he regretted the truth of her words while still recognising that they were true. 

“For what it’s worth,” he said. “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have listened to August. I shouldn’t have left you like that. If I hadn’t…” 

He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t have to. They both knew how different things would have been if he hadn’t left her. And they both knew that it was far too late to undo what had been done. The only option left was to move on. 

“We found each other again, though,” she reminded him. “And we found Henry.” 

“You mean Henry found us.” 

“Yeah, that’s probably more accurate.” 

They shared a chuckle, and for the briefest moment the years fell away and she remembered why she’d fallen for him. And for the first time since she’d run him down in a New York alleyway, Emma looked at Neal and she felt hopeful.  

“Anyway,” she said, “Henry wants both of us in his life. He deserves that, and I think he needs it. And I think for it to work we need to try to be friends.” 

“No hard feelings, then?” Neal asked, hopefully. 

Emma hesitated. 

What did she feel for Neal? There was still affection, of course there was—the stubborn remnants of a passionate first love that she doubted would ever fully die. There was resentment too, a lot of it, and a lot of hurt. A fair bit of anger. So yeah, there were some hard feelings, but there also wasn’t much point in attempting to hash any of them out with Neal. Not when they needed to move forward.   

She produced a smile, slightly stiff at the edges but he didn’t seem to notice. 

“Sure. No hard feelings.” 

Neal’s face broke into a grin, the wide, happy kind that crinkled his eyes and once upon a time would have sent Emma’s heartbeat into overdrive. Now it just made her think of another crinkly grin, one far rarer and all too often tinged with sadness. 

“Neal,” she said. “I’ve got to go.” 

-

The next minute she was at the docks, breathing deeply and gathering her courage, looking up at the Jolly Roger and hoping Hook—Killian—would be there, in his cabin, maybe with his flask and one of the books that lined his shelves. More than once these past few weeks she’d caught him tucked up in a corner somewhere, reading, and Belle informed her that he actually had a library card. 

“He didn’t have the required ID,” she’d said with a little smirk. “But I think we all know who he is.” 

Emma was pretty sure she did know that, now, and the knowledge propelled her forward, onto the deck of the ship then down to his cabin where she knocked firmly on his door and shivered a bit when his voice called for her to enter. 

He looked up, surprise registering on his face followed swiftly by the delight he could never quite conceal when he saw her. 

“Swan,” he purred. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

Emma’s heart was pounding and her throat dry, and honestly it was ridiculous to be this nervous, it wasn’t like he was going to say no. 

“I’m, um. Heretoaskyouout,” she blurted. 

He frowned. “To what?” 

Emma drew a deep breath and tried again. “Ask you out.” 

“Out of where?” 

“What? No. What?” 

“Where do you want me to go out of? This is my ship.” 

Emma resisted the urge to smack herself on the forehead. Of course he didn’t know what ‘ask you out’ meant, he was like a thousand years old. “No, no, I mean out on a date,” she explained. Tried to explain anyway, though his confusion just grew more apparent. “Like, to dinner or something. You and me. Out.” 

“Ah. Ah.” 

She watched as he turned the unfamiliar phrase over in his head, watched his eyes brighten with interest at learning a new thing, then when he finally realised fully what it meant she watched a rosy pink flush creep across his cheekbones and up to the tips of his ears. 

He swallowed, and when he spoke again his voice was gruff. “Let me be certain I understand. You want us, as in you and me, to go someplace and eat dinner together. Just—just us?” 

She nodded. “Yeah.” 

“And in this realm that is called a date?” 

“Yeah.” 

“And am I to understand that there are… romantic connotations to these dates?”

‘Romantic connotations’, she thought, for fuck’s sake, and did her best to ignore the fluttery feeling she always got in her belly whenever he broke out the big words. Aloud she said “Yeah.” 

“I see.” He swallowed again. “And when do you propose we have this date?” 

“Um. Tonight?” 

Aaand there it was, that wide and crinkly grin that made the blood rush far too recklessly through her veins, this time with no sadness lurking behind his eyes. None at all. 

“Tonight it is, then,” he said. 

-

One minute Emma was alone and telling herself she was content to be so, the next she had parents and a son and an ex who was almost a friend, and she was dating. Dating Hook, which she told herself firmly was only weird if she thought too hard about it. She wasn’t actually dating Captain Hook, of course she wasn’t. That would be ridiculous. No, she was dating Killian Jones—who was surprisingly, endearingly, sweet and nervous about it at first, like he wasn’t entirely certain her interest was real and was doing his utmost to tread carefully.

Emma didn’t want him always on his best behaviour, though, and while Killian was wonderful she knew that both of them still needed at least a little bit of Hook. And so it was that after their third date, when Henry was with Neal and Emma had made it very clear to her parents that they were not to expect her home before morning, that she and Killian stumbled back to his ship tipsy on rum but drunk on each other, and she made certain he understood exactly how interested she was. 

It was very. She was very interested. 

And when they awoke the next morning and she groaned at the glaring sunlight and pressed her face into his neck, muttering that it was too damn early and she needed caffeine, he ran his fingers through her hair and informed her he had a coffeemaker in his galley. 

She pulled back and blinked at him. “You what?” 

He flushed slightly, though with a pleased grin. “I asked Granny and she showed me what I needed, and helped me buy it.”

“But why? You don’t drink coffee.” 

He shrugged. “It’s growing on me. And besides, I thought—well, I hoped—that you might want to spend some time aboard ship in the future and, well, I want you to feel comfortable here and to have the things you like.” 

She stared at him for a moment as his flush deepened, then surged forward and kissed him, wrapped herself tightly around him and kissed him and kissed him until they were both breathless and the coffee forgotten until much, much, much later. 

-

Another minute passed and they were marking six months together. Emma had rented a place of her own, nothing fancy but hers, and she and Killian were spending most of their nights there. Her bed was bigger than the bunk in his cabin, softer and with actual springs, and her parents, Granny, and Ruby had all chipped in to buy her an espresso machine. Small but serviceable, like her apartment. Granny taught both her and Killian how to use it—and honestly, Emma thought, you haven’t truly lived until you’ve seen a shirtless pirate with a hook for a hand whip up a latte on a Sunday morning—and she was, tentatively, happy. 

Very happy. 

She didn’t see too much of Neal. He spent time with Henry of course and with Belle, renovating the pawn shop and brightening it a bit, removing what traces they could of the Dark One’s influence. She also knew he was volunteering at the convent where the Lost Boys lived, helping them get accustomed to life in Storybrooke and make it their home. 

He might also, she suspected, have become somewhat more than friends with Tink. 

-

And then one night Emma and Killian had dinner at a new place by the docks, where they gorged on seafood and drank a bit too much wine and decided, for safety and for old times’ sake, to spend the night on the Jolly Roger rather than trying to get home. 

Home. She had a home now, and a man who as good as lived there with her. She should really get around to asking him to live there officially, she knew. She kept meaning to. She wanted to, she truly did. But as conversations go that one felt so weighty and so significant that she wanted to be sure to do it right and so in the end she’d done nothing at all—nothing except feel that little bit more guilty each time Killian asked her politely if it was all right for him to stay. 

Yes, she wanted to tell him. Stay forever. Soon she would. 

They stumbled onto the ship and to his cabin, foolish and messy in a way they hadn’t been for a while. Emma realised she had missed this a bit, the dark, almost feral look in Killian’s eyes when he was just this shade of drunk and she was naked in his bed on his ship. 

“You are… so beautiful, Emma,” he growled against her throat as his fingers tangled in her hair. “Have I told you how you steal my breath away?” 

“Not for at least an hour,” she teased. 

“Remiss of me.” 

“Mmm. However will you… ohhh… make it up to me?” 

He pulled back and looked down at her, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. “Oh, I have one or two ideas.” 

-

They woke late the next morning as was their habit on a Sunday, and Emma groaned as the light pierced her eyelids and straight through her throbbing head. 

“Killian.” She poked him in the ribs. 

“Mmphh,” he replied. 

“You still have your… thing. Right? Coffee thing? In the galley?” 

“Aye.” He rubbed his eyes and blinked. “I believe there’s aspirin in there as well.” 

Emma turned her poking finger into a caressing one, stroking him with the tip of it. “Killian,” she said again, in a wheedling tone. 

“It’s your turn to make the coffee and you know it, Swan,” he replied, in his pirate captain voice. 

She huffed. He raised an eyebrow. 

“Fine.” She flung the covers off and rolled out of bed, snatched his shirt from the floor and threw it on, buttoning it just enough to keep it from flapping when she walked. “I’m guessing you don’t have milk though.” 

“Certainly not any in a drinkable state. Though there should be some of that horrid creamer.” 

She perked up. “Cinnamon?” 

“What else?” 

In the galley Emma found the coffeemaker and an open packet of coffee that smelled surprisingly fresh given how long it had been since they’d last slept here. There was also the cinnamon creamer, unopened, and a big bottle of aspirin. One minute she was pulling everything off the shelves and turning to set them on the table, and the next the door was swinging open and a person walking through it, and Emma found herself colliding sharply with a bare chest. A familiar bare chest. A familiar bare chest that was not Killian’s. 

“Neal!” she shrieked, dropping everything in her arms. “What the fuck!” 

“Emma!” He looked equally stunned. “What the—what are you doing here?” 

“Here on my—on Hook’s ship, you mean?” My boyfriend’s ship, she wanted to say, but calling a 300-year-old pirate a boyfriend was something she still couldn’t do, however objectively true it may be. 

“The ship he said I could use whenever I needed it?” countered Neal. “Yeah, that one!” 

“He said you could use his ship?” 

“Uh huh, he did. When I, you know.” A shifty look crept onto his face. “Wanted privacy.” 

“Priva-oh!” Emma’s eyes widened as the penny dropped. Neal was still living in his father’s house. The house where Belle also lived. “Um. I see.” 

“Yeah.” Neal didn’t meet her eyes. “But why are you here, don’t you have your own place now?” he demanded. “I thought Hook lived with you.” 

“Not officially,” she muttered. “And we, um, had a bit to drink last night at that new seafood place and you know.” She shrugged. “The ship was closer.” 

“Huh. Well that explains those noises I heard last night.” 

Emma was just about to ask him what the fuck that was supposed to mean when the door opened again and a voice called “Why don’t I smell coff—oh! Um. Hi Emma.” 

Emma pressed her thumbs against her temples. “Hey, Tink.” 

The fairy was dressed identically to how Emma herself was, only the shirt she wore was Neal’s. An old Metallica tee because of course. 

“Well,” said Tink. “That explains those noises we heard.” 

Neal nodded. 

“What noises—” Emma began, then the door opened again. 

“Did you find everything, love—oh. Er.” Killian appeared in the room wearing only his jeans and without his hook. He scratched behind his ear. “Hello, friends and enemies.”

“Hook,” said Tink and Neal. 

“Killian,” said Emma. She crossed her arms over her chest. “You never told me you were letting Neal stay here.” 

“Ah. I did offer him use of the first mate’s quarters whenever he was seeking a bit of privacy, yes. If you remember, love, my quarters proved invaluable in that respect when you were still living with your parents.” 

Emma felt her cheeks grow hot. “Yeah,” she muttered. 

“I merely thought Neal and Tink could do with a bit of the same benefit. And you know the Jolly gets lonely if she’s left by herself for too long. Although,” Killian favoured Neal and Tink with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, “I did make that offer quite some time ago now. And I don’t believe I said anything about staying here.” 

“Yeah, well.” Neal’s face took on that belligerent look he got when he was feeling defensive. “I don’t want to move out of Papa’s place and leave Belle alone.” 

“Are you kidding me?” Emma demanded. 

Everyone stared at her. “What?” asked Neal. 

“Belle’s seeing Ruby.” 

“Ruby?” 

“Yeah. For like three months now. Ruby’s constantly moaning about how they can’t stay at her place because Granny’s got wolf hearing and they can’t go to Belle’s because it’s full of you. Trust me, Belle will be okay if you move out.” 

“Oh,” said Neal blankly. “Well. Fuck.” 

Emma looked around the room, at her current boyfriend and her ex-boyfriend and her ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend who was also her current boyfriend’s ex… something, all of them in varying states of dishevelment, hangover, and undress, and she started to laugh. 

“Yeah,” she said. “That about sums it up.” 

-

So Emma never did quite figure out how it happened, but somehow she ended up with a home of her own in a fairy tale town with fairy tale friends and a pirate boyfriend, where one minute she was drinking coffee in a ship’s galley with a group of people who knew each other far too intimately for anyone’s comfort and the next her ex and his girlfriend were her neighbours and her pirate was living at her place for good—at their place, now—and her son was bouncing happily between the two apartments save at least one night a week that he spent at Regina’s. She and Neal co-parented better than she could ever have hoped, and every morning she woke up to blue eyes warm with love and lattes made precisely how she liked them. 

And, well. Emma’s happiness wasn’t tentative anymore. 

-

She was happy. Really happy. Truly happy. So happy that when she came home one evening to find the kitchen smoke alarm shrieking and Henry teetering on a stool waving a towel at it as Killian and Neal grappled with some foamy, hissing, smoking substance on the countertop, she wasn’t even mad. 

“What the hell do you idiots think you’re doing?” she demanded. 

“Ems!” 

“Mom!” 

“Swan!” 

“It’s not what it looks like!” they cried in unison. 

Emma shook her head. “I’m going next door,” she said. “To have a beer with Tink. This,” she gestured vaguely at the room, “had better be dealt with by the time I get back.” 

As she turned and headed back out the door, the last thing she heard were three furious voices. 

“Now look what you’ve done!”  

“What I’ve done! It was your idea!” 

“And I still don’t have a science project!” 

Emma grinned, and shut the door firmly behind her.

---

@thisonesatellite @ohmightydevviepuu @mariakov81 @stahlop @kmomof4 @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @shireness-says @thesschesthair @courtorderedcake @everything-person @katie-dub 

[awanderingdeal]

Never too late - 8

An eternity later and it is here! Part 8 of 'Never too Late'. How much of this is me projecting? You'll never know.

CW: Food, alcohol, feelings of queer exclusion at prom, coming out, [very minor and it is shut down] compulsory sexuality.

Please message me if you feel I missed anything out.

Just a note, that due to the POV of this fic, there is a lot of linking between relationships and romance to prom. I just want to reiterate that prom absolutely does not have to be a romantic event if you do not want it to. The beef is more that queer kids do not always have the choice to go with their partners safely, and the stress of not knowing whether it would have been okay or not.

I hope that all of you that wanted to were able to have the prom you wanted and if you weren't able to, please know it is just ONE day. Throw your own if you want to. Don't if you don't want to. I know for myself, I have a lot of feelings about it, so please don't read this if it going to upset you.

Rating: T

Previous and future chapters can be found on my masterlist.

All credit for Sweater Weather and these characters go to @lumosinlove

8. Go to a dance. Kiss your first love. Well, at least you think they are anyway. But remember kids, consent always.

Leo was excited, to say the least. Sprawled on his bed, laptop in front of him and his cell to the right, he knew it was getting late, but he wanted to research a little longer. He had a venue and a catering team locked down; the latter he had done reluctantly, after yet another person had told him that he absolutely could not cater the event himself.

His phone buzzed insistently, and Leo grunted. Why would anybody call when you could just text? He grunted again when he read the caller id.

Regulus. What a traitor.

“Hello?” Leo answered, rolling onto his back. He felt a tightness in his lumbar region, and made a mental note to mention it to Hestia in the morning if the sensation was still there when he woke up.

“Go to sleep.”

“ I will soon,” Leo hummed. “Did you look at my text?”

“Leo. It’s 2am.”

“Yes, I worked very hard to learn to tell the time, thank you.” In truth, the last time Leo remembered checking the time, it had still been the previous day. Logan had a popped his head around the door to tell Leo that he and Finn were going to crash in one of the other rooms, and that Leo should get some sleep soon. Leo had nodded and assured Logan he wouldn’t be too long.

Regulus’ sigh on the other end of the phone interrupted his memory.

“And you’re getting cranky,” Regulus said. Leo could imagine the smooth raised eyebrow that accompanied the words. “If I tell you which theme I like, will you go to sleep?”

Leo shifted, pushing himself up against the stack of pillows. He nodded eagerly, before remembering Regulus couldn’t see him. “Yes. I promise.”

“I like both -”

“That is not helpful!”

“Wait a second. Merde. You should combine them.”

“That’s,” Leo wrinkled his nose, contemplating the idea. “That’s actually kind of genius.”

“You can thank me later,” Regulus offered smugly. “After you’ve got some sleep.”

***

“So Reg, who’s the lucky person who gets to be your date to this thing?” Finn asked, plucking a brownie from the plate in the middle of the table, before settling into the seat opposite Leo.

“It’s not a thing!” Leo protested.

“Sorry, babe. This prom,” Finn grinned.

Regulus worried his lip between his teeth, looking first at Leo and then turning his gaze back to Finn. “Do I have to go with someone?”

“Yes,” Finn said resolutely, at the same time as Leo shook his head, giving the opposite answer.

“No,” Leo repeated, narrowing his eyes at Finn. “People go to prom with friends all the time.”

“Okay, yeah, fine. You don’t have to,” Finn agreed, giving a placating smile. Leo hated that it worked. If he were being honest, they should probably utilise the O’Hara smile in diplomatic relations. “But don’t you want to have the quintessential prom kiss?”

“Finn -”

“I was actually thinking I could borrow Leo,” Regulus rolled his eyes, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Apparently Finn didn't catch it though. His face contorted into a thousand different expressions in the space of a second. Conflicted. Contemplative. Accepting. “Well...I guess I’d be okay with it, if Leo is, but Lo-”

“That was a joke, Finn,” Regulus laughed.

“Oh, right,” Finn laughed as well, the tips of his cheeks tinged pink. “Well. Yeah. Prom kisses are nice. I had sex for the first time on my prom. Although, she did cheat on my two months later, so maybe I’m not the best example to follow,” he rambled.

“That was a lot to learn about somebody in a very short amount of time," Regulus commented, clutching his mug between his hands.

Finn shrugged, leaning forward to grab another brownie, seemingly uncaring about the wealth of information he had just offered.

***

“Hey, Le?”

Leo looked up from his phone, finding Regulus hovering next to him, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He cocked his head slightly in question.

“Can we talk?”

Leo frowned, setting his phone down on the coffee table and patted the seat next to him on the sofa. “You don’t usually ask,” he smirked.

Regulus’ smile back seemed strained, but Leo didn’t comment on it. “Earlier,” Regulus started as he took a seat, playing with the tips of his fingers before he stopped abruptly, placing them in his lap. “In the kitchen? What Finn said?”

Leo sighed gently, “Ignore him. Finn’s mouth and his feet are well acquainted. You know Finn. He just doesn't always think before he speaks. I’m sorry if he upset you.”

“You shouldn’t apologise for your boyfriend. If I wanted an apology I would have gone to him.” ” Regulus chided. His expression softened, his next intake of breath larger than usual. “Can you just listen?”

“Sorry,” Leo turned to look at Regulus properly. “You were saying?”

Regulus gave a small nod. “I don’t think I want that.”

Leo opened his mouth to speak, remembered Regulus’ request and snapped it shut again.

“Not the kisses. Not the sex. None of it. I think I’m asexual” The words came out in a single, hurried burst, but Regulus seemed to stumble over the last one, as if it was unfamiliar to him, unpractised. Leo could picture his friend frantically asking google questions, refining each search as he learned new information. He’d been there himself once.

A silence hung in the air, the two of them staring at one another, with an intensity that was making Leo feel uncomfortable, but he didn't want to be the first to break eye contact.

“Désolé," Regulus blinked. "Say something. Please."

Leo shuffled forward, his arms outstretched. “I’m going to hug you now.” He waited a beat to allow Regulus to protest, before pulling him close. Regulus sat stiffly, taking a moment to relax into the embrace and when he did, Leo squeezed him a little tighter. “Thank you for telling me.”

“I knew you’d be okay with it,” Regulus grumbled. Leo was sure he heard a hint of relief despite the attempt to appear ambivalent. He let Regulus go, putting some space between them again, knowing his friend had more personal space boundaries than Leo was used to dealing with.

“It’s still scary. Even if you’re almost certain it’s going to be alright. And just in case you need to hear it, I love you, you’re valid and even if you decide that’s not the right label for you that’s okay too.”

“What are you? Like, gay Yoda?” Regulus gave a small laugh, but he sniffed wetly. “Thanks.”

“A Jedi uses the Force for knowledge and defence, never for attack,” Leo made a fist, wrapped his other hand over the top and bowed his head.

“Nerd.”

“Wait, can I ask you a question?” Regulus’ consenting nod was slow and tentative. “Does this mean you’d prefer if I stop sending you half naked photos every other day?” Leo let the corner of his mouth curl into a smirk.

Regulus barked a very uncharacteristic laugh, deep and loud. “While I can appreciate the aesthetic appeal of Chris Evans, yes, I’ve seen enough of that man to last me many lifetimes .” He punched Leo lightly in the knee. Leo raised an eyebrow at the very frat - boy inspired action, and Regulus made a face that suggested he wasn’t quite sure where it had come from either. “I’m sure company is not an issue for you in this household, but don’t worry I’ll still watch The Avengers with you.”

“A real hero,” Leo drawled. “Hey.” He met Regulus’ eyes, his tone taking on a more serious note again. “You know you can tell Finn. And Logan, right? If that’s what you want. Whenever you’re ready. They’ll be cool.”

“Yeah,” Regulus breathed. “I don’t doubt it.”

“And if they’re not. I’ll personally kick them in the balls for you.”

***

Leo fussed with his bowtie in the mirror, tilting his head this way and that, trying to decide if it was straight.

“Stop. You look great. They’re going to die,” Regulus declared, making Leo jump slightly. He’d known the man was in the room, but his best friend had a habit of just appearing beside him unannounced.

Leo took another look in the mirror, running his fingers over the slightly raised texture of his initials monogrammed into the teal suspenders. “Yeah, I guess I’ll do,” he hummed, turning to face Regulus, scanning his eyes over him. Even Leo had been surprised by Regulus’ choice of attire, knowing now why he had kept the outfit such a secret. “Bold choice,” he remarked.

“Too much?”

“No,” Leo shook his head. Maybe it would have been on somebody else, but Regulus wore the mustard yellow three - piece effortlessly. He reached out to touch the blue sapphire that embellished the lapel, a gold chain linking it to the breast pocket. “Not at all. I’m just jealous.”

“Alright boys, are we ready?” Alex asked, clapping his hands together.

“Yeah.”

“As we’ll ever be.”

“Ready!” Kuny boomed, making a show of checking his pocket watch, the gold chain attaching it to his vest was somehow, even more ornate than Regulus’.

The four of them turned to glance at Remus, the only one in the room left to reply. Shrugging his jacket over his shoulders, Remus smiled. “I guess I can’t play with this tie any longer.”

“Alright then. I don’t know a lot about you guys, but I want to see my boyfriend,” Alex rocked on his feet, Leo chuckled, the man pretended he was so much more chill than his younger brother, but excitement seemed to bubble under his skin all the same. Leo didn’t blame Alex though, separating the partners into different rooms had seemed like a good idea earlier in the evening, but now he just wanted to see Finn and Logan, ideally before he exploded with anticipation. He couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for those of them that had to wait for their partners to arrive from the Potter’s house, where the ladies had opted to get ready.

“Yes. I want see Jackson,” Kuny nodded resolutely.

“Lord, help me,” Regulus whined. Leo just laughed, wrapping an arm around his friend’s shoulders.

***

“Cap! Stop undressing Loops with your eyes, he put a lot of effort into finding that suit.”

“Kuny. Put Nado down. There are people here.”

“Harzy. Are you crying?”

“You can close your mouth now, Leo.” Regulus tapped a finger lightly against Leo’s jaw. He would have tried to defend himself from the accusation, but he couldn’t deny the quiet clink of his teeth snapping back together.

“I’m just going to need a minute,” Leo mumbled, dragging his eyes over Finn and Logan’s bodies.

“Take your time,” Regulus chuckled. “Is-” Regulus leaned forward, squinting slightly. “Does Finn’s jacket match the invites.”

“I think they’re flowers.” Although, from afar, the swirls of blue and silver painted over the jacket did resemble the night sky artwork the two of them had settled on for the invites. Leo had insisted they needed them despite Regulus’ very valid point that saw all of the attendees at least once a week. “I’m going to go and check,” Leo waved a hand towards his boyfriends. He could see Logan’s lips moving, Finn’s grin widening with each word and Leo wanted in on that conversation.

“Sure,” Regulus hummed. “You go and do that.”

Leo stole a glance behind him as he crossed the short distance of their lounge, feeling a pang of guilt about leaving Regulus so easily on what was supposed to be his night. He needn't have worried though, he had barely taken a few paces before Regulus was swarmed by Thomas and James. Leo huffed a laugh at Regulus' disgruntled expression as they fawned at his suit.

***

“Leo. Regulus. Welcome! These must be your guests.” Estella, the only one of fifteen event planners that he and Regulus could agree on, smiled wide. “Is everybody here? I can always have somebody come and meet any stragglers?”

“No, this is all of us,” Leo confirmed. Corralling everybody into the two limos had been a task, but somehow they had all managed to make it to the museum without anybody being left behind.

“Alright then. Follow me. I think you’re going to love what we’ve settled on.” Estella turned on her heel, tight curls bouncing behind her as she led them up the grand staircase. Leo had been to The Natural History museum many times during the day, but the place had a strange sense of awe without the usual bustle of visitors, and he couldn’t wait to see what the events hall had been transformed into.

Estella pushed the ornate double doors open, blocking the entrance with her body. She must have noticed how Leo’s feet itched with anticipation because she gave a small smirk as she stepped aside. “Enjoy your evening, gentlemen. I’ll be around should you need anything."

Leo looked back at the group behind him; his team, his friends, his family, and felt the pool of anxiety that had been bubbling in his stomach all day, churn again. This evening had started off as being for Regulus, but it had quickly grown beyond that. While prom wasn’t inherently romantic, the traditions that came alongside it were embroiled with ideas that had marginalised so many of them, even if they hadn’t realised it at the time. A part of him hated that a high school event that was truly insignificant in the grand scheme of things could hold so much weight. He wanted to rebel, to not let it be important at all. Another just wanted to be able to give them all the night they had wished for back then.

“What’s the delay?” Natalie’s voice shook Leo from his head, and he glanced to his left at Regulus before moving into the room.

Estella and her team had really come through. They had weaved Leo and Regulus’ ideas on decoration into something spectacular. He had to force himself not to pause again, waiting until he was less of an obstruction to the rest of them, to stop and look up at the ceiling. There were hundreds, maybe thousands, of tiny lights strung to look exactly like the night sky. Right in the centre, Leo recognised the pattern to be that of his namesake, one light slightly brighter than all the rest.

“Hey,” Sirius clapped a hand on Regulus’s shoulder. “How come you get to be up there and I don’t.”

“Can’t stand not to be the centre of attention can you, big brother?” Regulus shot back and Sirius just shook his head with a laugh, hurrying after Remus.

***

“This one is for all you loved up folk out there,” the DJ’s voice rang through the room, the music slowly fading from a thuddy beat into the tender piano notes of the next song.

Leo winced as Marlene squealed, tugging Dorcas from her chair, the latter almost tripping over her train in the rush, although she regained her composure quickly. She moved just as swiftly in her heels as Marlene did in her black and white oxfords. He watched the two of them leave, Dorcas’ emerald green dress almost sparkling as it caught the light.

“Go on,” Regulus nudged Leo, tilting his head in the direction of where Finn and Logan had already procured a spot on the dance floor. “Go dance with your boys.”

Leo glanced at Regulus, before turning his gaze to meet his boyfriend’s eyes. He contorted his features into a series of faces that to anybody else probably seemed nonsensical, but they caught on perfectly, answering his silent question with simultaneous nods of their heads.

“Or,” Leo placed his hand, palm upright, on the table. “You could do me the honour?”

“I’m not,” Regulus wrinkled his nose. “You don’t need to -”

“Indulge me, Reggie.”

“Only if you stop calling me that,” Regulus sighed, grasping Leo’s hand. “I’m leading.”

Regulus, it turned out, could dance. Leo was passable. He let himself be led around the floor, laughing with his friend at all the couples that weren’t quite as accomplished, his boyfriend’s included.

The music flowed seamlessly from the deep tones of John Legend into the lighter ones of Taylor Swift.

“Yes! My girl, Tay Tay. Now we’re talking.”

Regulus rolled his eyes playfully, “Calm down, Le. I think your gay is showing.”

“Okay, Karen.”

“I am wounded,” Regulus clutched his hand to chest, placing it back on Leo’s hip without missing a beat. He looked up, smiling at Leo softly. “You should go and dance with them now. I think they could do with your help.”

“Non!” Logan argued, stumbling over Finn’s feet once again. “I know how to dance. It is Finn who is a liability,” he added, as they came to a halt beside Leo and Regulus.

***

Reg! Did you see Kam sent the link for the photos?

I did. You want to look at them together, non?

Oui, Oui! Come over now?

Leo waited to receive the confirmation text, before he hurried into the kitchen to compile a selection of snacks, as well as a jug of lemon water for Finn. On his final trip, he added the ever-present jug of sweet tea from the fridge to the tray, setting it all up on the table in front of the TV in the lounge.

“Baby Black is coming over then?” Logan teased, sprawling onto the sofa next to Leo.

“Sssh,” Leo whined, pressing a finger to Logan’s lips. “Otherwise no doughnuts for you.”

Logan gasped, launching himself at Leo, his hands finding the spot below Leo’s ribs where he was most ticklish. “How dare you threaten me with such things?”

“Stop it,” Leo spluttered between laughs, squirming away from the assault. Thankfully the doorbell rang just as Leo thought he was going to have to tap out, Logan letting him up to go and answer it.

It took a few minutes to get all four of them settled on the couch and the photos casting from his cell to the TV, but eventually they managed it.

Kam, and their assistant, had done a great job of capturing the entire night, from everybody getting ready to a very drunk James and Evgeni snoring softly against the giant moon structure. James was swamped by Evgeni’s checked suit jacket and James’ pinstripe one hung from Evgeni’s arm.

“Did you three plan this?” Regulus laughed as a photo of Sirius, Logan and Pascal appeared on the screen. The three of them had chosen to go with a classic tuxedo, albeit with slight variations.

“We did not. We just all have impeccable taste,” Logan retorted.

“Oh my God!” Finn sat forward, squinting at the screen. “They definitely planned that though.” He waved at the image of Alex and Kasey, their suits the same but in reverse; Alex’s jacket a navy blue with a checked grey vest and Kasey the opposite.

“Finn babe,” Leo frowned, sliding Finn’s glasses onto his face. “How did you go the entire night without noticing that. Aren’t you supposed to be the fashion connoisseur, here?”

“I was distracted!” Finn protested. “By…” he beamed as a photo of him, Leo and Logan replaced the previous image. “That.”

Regulus faked a gag, swiping at the phone to get a new photo. Any argument that was about to ensue was abruptly ended as they all burst into laughter. On the screen, a sheepish looking Pascal was being berated by Estella, her finger pointing to the sign to the left of the vine covered swing that Pascal was sitting on that read, ‘For decorative purposes only’.

They went through hundreds of photos. Some of them were sweet; Natalie with her arms wrapped around Regulus’s waist pressing a kiss to his cheek. Some of them were silly; everybody sat in rows on the dancefloor, their arms out to side. Some of them staged; Regulus and Leo sat on the big arm chairs beneath the origami stars. All of them captured tiny moments that none of them wanted to forget.

Leo tucked his head against Regulus' shoulder, trying to stifle his tears. He wasn't upset, not at all. It was just a lot. Seeing it all again. And then he remembered that all the decorations had been donated. Most of the woodland pieces, including the huge faux tree that had stood in the middle of one of the tables had gone to a local young theatre troupe that were struggling to finance their show, and the starry night pieces had gone to a group that were organising a Queer prom for the region's high schoolers that maybe didn't feel accepted at their own. For Leo, knowing that young kids like himself could take their prom photos with whomever they wanted, could truly decide whether they wanted to go with friends or their partners without fear, was the best part of all. Regulus wrapped his arm around Leo, pulling him closer.

"Thank you, I had the best prom ever."

[kiranatrix]

Appetites

Lawlight // rated T (some smooching)// Summary: Your birthday is a terrible day to lose your appetite for cake.

For @deathnotetober [Day 31: L]

-------

L sat cross-legged on his bed, looking down at the objectively very appealing chocolate mousse cake on a silver tray in front of him. Watari had brought it to him about 10 minutes ago and he still hadn’t dug in, the fork weighing heavy in his hand. Light would have probably asked if that was some kind of record for him. If he were here.

There was nothing on the cake to indicate that it was L’s birthday-- only Watari knew the exact date and of course, his caretaker wouldn’t take the chance of parading an obvious birthday cake through the halls of Kira HQ and giving that protected information away. Light was still here in the tower, out of the handcuffs as of three days ago, and more than that had changed for Light but L wasn’t sure how. He’d felt the change like a barometric shift, like ozone in the air after a lightning strike.

Unfortunately, both the Task Force and the courts trusted L’s gut feelings far less than real evidence. Which, currently, he had none of. He only had cake and not the appetite to eat it.

This was a disaster.

L sighed and put the fork down, crawling over to his nightstand to take out the long pair of handcuffs that had, until recently, bound him to Light. His fingers itched to grab the phone as well and call Light, even or especially because he knew the man was sleeping. L had never felt strange about spending a birthday alone before, but then L hadn’t had anyone but Watari before this one.

He looked between the cake and the cuffs a few times before stuffing the cuffs back in the nightstand, hunching in on himself like a perched gargoyle. I’m not going to do it. Not going to call him.

---

Light’s eyes flew open as he heard his cell-phone go off, and he groaned and turned over to glance at the caller ID. Caller unknown. It’s L.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, groggily answering, “Ryuzaki, it’s 2 am. This better be an emergency.”

“Oh, sorry to wake you up, Light-kun.” L didn’t sound sorry in the slightest. “It is an emergency. I need you to come to my room right away. Please hurry.”

“But what happ--” Light blinked as he heard a dial tone, holding the phone away from his ear with a sigh. “Nevermind.”

---

L answered the door before Light even had to knock, he’d been glued to the surveillance on his laptop.

“I came as soon as I could. What happened?” Light was barefoot and still in his pajamas, eyes wide as he looked past L into the room.

“Please come in, this is very serious.” L stepped aside to let Light come in and closed the door behind him.

Light gave him a look of alarm. “Is everyone ok? My father--”

“It seems I’ve lost my appetite for cake.” L pressed a finger against his lip as he stared mournfully at the untouched chocolate cake on his bed.

Light let out a sigh of relief but immediately switched to anger. “What?! Ryuzaki, THAT is not an emergency! You shouldn’t scare people like that!”

L shifted onto one foot, scratching his ankle with the other. “I suppose you don’t understand how disconcerting this is for me. This has never happened before.”

Light closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. Calmly, “Ryuzaki…” He opened his eyes and tried not to imagine picking up that cake and smashing it on L’s head. “What exactly do you expect me to do about it?”

L smiled slightly, climbing onto the bed to crouch by the cake. “If Light-kun ate it with me, I think my appetite might return.” He stated this as if it were the obvious and logical solution to a very pressing problem. “Unfortunately there is only one fork but we’ve gotten used to sharing things haven’t we? So it should be no issue.”

“If I eat a couple of bites, will you let me go back to bed?” It was probably easier to just do what L wanted than to protest. Not like eating a little cake was so awful.

L picked up the fork and held it out. “Of course.”

Light gave L a suspicious look but tentatively took the fork and sat beside him on the bed. The cake looked really delicious--- raspberries and strawberries dotted the chocolate icing and the top was dusted with white chocolate shavings. “Alright, here goes.” He stabbed the fork into the cake and brought a bite to his lips, unable to keep from making a soft sound of approval. “Mmmm.” He swallowed it with a nod. “Wow, it’s really good. Even better than Watari’s usual cakes.” Light didn’t have the greatest sweet-tooth but chocolate was his weakness. “Here, you try some now.” He tried to hand the fork to L but the detective shook his head.

“Still not there yet. Keep going.”

Light shrugged and ate another bite and then another, until there was a sizable hole in the cake and crumbs dotted his shirt. But as he lifted one last bite, he smiled and brought it to L’s lips instead. “Come on, you have to be wanting some by now. It’s really special. Just trust me.”

L was wanting some; he’d been wanting some since Light’s second bite but had been enjoying seeing Light enjoying it more. “Trust you?” He stared at Light a moment before slowly opening his mouth and permitting the forkful of cake inside. His lips closed around the fork, eyes fluttering shut as the sweet, creamy icing spread across his tongue. Watari had really outdone himself this year, it was one of the best cakes he’d ever had. Or was it because of… him.

Light laughed softly, retracting the fork from L’s mouth and leaning back on his elbow. He’d forgotten how comfortable it could be with L sometimes, when they weren’t snarking at each other or at each other’s throats. He dangled the fork from his fingers in front of L, urging him to take it. “There, problem solved. Have some more.”

L looked at the fork and then at the cake, saying softly, “I would like to trust Light-kun again.” But he is Kira.

Light hesitated and felt something tighten in his chest when L took his hand, dug the fork into the cake, and ate the bite. L’s eyes burned into him, and there was a strange openness Light hadn’t seen before. A question unasked, painted on L’s wide pupils. A chance.

L shifted closer to Light, “And again…” His squeezed Light’s hand until the fork was dropped, moving Light’s finger into the icing instead to lick it off. Softer, “....and again,” repeating the action. His appetite had returned but it wasn’t for cake, had never been about cake.

“Ryuzaki?” Light’s eyes widened in surprise, breath coming fast as L moved nearly nose-to-nose, his finger still embedded in L’s mouth. This wasn’t supposed to happen, not tonight, not ever. This was how people slipped up, caught feelings...shit. As soon as he pulled his finger from L’s mouth, L closed the distance between them, sticky sweet lips pressing to his and sending a shiver down through his guts. He needed to jerk away but he grabbed at L’s shirt, needed to run from this room but only pulled L’s body closer against his. He should be yelling at the invasion but instead opened his mouth wider, letting L taste Kira as he’d never tasted Light-kun. He should be thinking of his next moves to take L out, but as the cake was shoved off the bed, forgotten, all he could think was how hungry he was.

[yoosungisbabie]

it kills me to think of you (with another man) - day one

@mysme-events​

jumin x mc

rating: T

prompt: {jealousy} / nightmares / manipulation 

warnings: none♡

word count: 2,838

ao3 link

[ ko-fi | paypal ]

Jumin hears something he shouldn't have and assumes the worst.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

“I’m so sorry!” Yoosung cried over the phone, making her snicker as she glanced up at Zen. She’d put the call on speaker about halfway through, so he was able to hear every apology that came out of Yoosung’s mouth.

“It’s okay, really,” she replied with a warm laugh, smiling at the thought of his blonde hair sticking up and his eyes wide with panic. “We can meet up another day. For now, just make sure you get a good meal and don’t stress too much,” she told him, glancing down at the pavement as she heard a defeated sigh from his end.

“Get going already!” Zen whined, flashing her a playful smile when they both heard Yoosung groan in protest.

“Whatever. I’ll talk to you later,” he sighed, hanging up quickly. She glared a little at Zen, watching him chuckle as she returned her phone to her back pocket.

“Poor thing,” she said, mostly to herself. Yoosung had slept through his alarm, missing his early morning class and running late to their lunch meetup.

Zen scoffed, turning to walk in the direction of the cafe they’d agreed on. She followed, hearing the annoyance in just that small sound but knowing that he was just as worried about Yoosung.

“He needs to learn how to wake up on time or he’ll never grow up,” he grumbled, pulling his sunglasses down from resting on his head as the sun peeked out from behind the clouds. She smirked to herself, tilting her head to watch his face as they walked.

“Says the guy who drinks so much beer that he’s practically made of it,” she teased, watching his jaw drop in mock offense.

“Alcohol is for adults. That boy is not an adult,” he replied, keeping the scowl on his face for a few seconds more until he broke down into a smile. She nudged him a little as they walked, laughing happily to herself. She was glad that everyone in the RFA cared for each other so much, even if they didn’t always show it.

Just as they arrived at the small cafe, she caught a glimpse of a nearby newspaper stand. Her fiancé’s face was on the cover of all the magazines, and she was sure they were all talking about the big business deal that was going on behind the scenes at C&R. She’d been trying to put all of it out of her mind, and lunch with Yoosung and Zen had been another effort to do so.

As the two of them ate, they talked about Zen’s upcoming musical role and about the work she was doing to prepare for the next scheduled RFA party. Lunch was delicious and filling, but she couldn’t stop worrying about Jumin. He’d been buried in work for weeks, and she knew that day would be no different. His energy was completely gone by the time he returned home, and she knew it was wearing on him more and more as the days passed.

“You know,” Zen spoke up, pulling her from her thoughts while her chin rested in her hand. She blinked at him quickly, embarrassed to have zoned out during their conversation.

“I’ve found that acting helps you forget what’s going on in real life,” he said, raising an eyebrow at her like he was proposing something. She narrowed her eyes in response, sitting back in her chair. Zen had always been able to easily read her, but she was sure anyone would have been able to tell that her mind was miles away.

“What are you trying to say?” she teased, watching as he crumpled the napkin resting on his thigh and tossed it onto his empty plate.

“I’m saying,” he started, his expression shifting into one she was more familiar with. “That coming back to my place to help me rehearse my lines would probably help get your mind off of it,” he offered, clasping his hands together when she sighed and rolled her eyes. He was always ready to beg for her help, even if he was joking most of the time. But she could tell that he was really worried about her, so she considered it.

“The CEO-in-line won’t be home for hours. Just a few scenes?” he pleaded. She weighed his statement, knowing it was true. He probably wouldn’t return home until the later hours of the evening, and it was only early afternoon. Zen sighed, giving her an overdramatic pout that broke her facade and made her laugh.

“Fine,” she agreed, seeing him happily fist pump at his side which made her roll her eyes again.

They walked back to his house from the cafe and enjoyed the nice, spring day, all while Zen filled her in on the finer details of his show. She’d heard a lot about it already, but he also focused on informing her about the character she would be playing. She couldn’t see herself getting too into it, but if it would help him, she was willing to give it a shot.

Her mind continually drifted back to her fiancé, worrying about his stamina and state of mind. She also debated about mentioning her change of plans to him. She’d never said how long she would be out with Yoosung and Zen, but she figured Jumin would want to know if she was going to be somewhere other than where she’d originally planned.

But it was Zen’s house. She knew he would be opposed to it, whether he vocalized it or not, and bothering him when he was busy with such important work was the last thing she wanted to do. It all made the phone in her back pocket feel heavier, but she tried to calm herself by reasoning that she wouldn’t be there for very long.

She’d only been to Zen’s apartment on a few rare occasions, but it felt homey and comfortable every time. She sat down on the couch, and Zen went to freshen up, leaving her to research a few acting tips on her phone while she waited. She knew he didn’t expect her to be naturally talented, but she didn’t want to embarrass herself either.

The door to the bathroom opened behind her, making her jump a little and shove her phone into her back pocket without thinking to turn the screen off.

“Ready?” Zen asked, chuckling a little as he moved to sit next to her and saw the panic in her eyes. He handed her the script, waiting expectantly for her answer.

“I guess,” she nervously laughed, completely unaware of the number she’d accidentally dialed in her back pocket.

~~~~~

Jumin’s phone vibrated irritatingly against the wood of his desk, disrupting his thoughts completely. He pinched the bridge of his nose, dimming the brightness of his computer monitor as he reached across his desk to retrieve his phone.

When he saw her caller ID, the tension in his shoulders and neck released, and he was left with a warm, excited feeling. Everything would be alright if he could just hear her voice.

“My love,” he greeted, leaning into the hand that held his phone to his ear as his tired eyes fluttered closed. But he was met with silence, making his eyebrows furrow on his forehead.

“Hello?” he called, listening carefully and hearing what sounded like rustling paper.

“Go ahead,” he heard suddenly. The voice was muffled, but when he remembered her lunch plans with Yoosung and Zen, he placed the voice as belonging to the latter of the two.

“This marriage...this arrangement,” she spoke, making him sit up a little straighter and listen harder. What was she talking about? Why wasn’t she answering him?

“Hello?” he tried again, listening intently for a reply.

“It’s not what I want!” she exclaimed, her voice pained and awkward. Jumin tried to think clearly even as his heart started to race, wondering if she’d called him without knowing.

“Then why are you doing it?” Zen asked. He tried to focus on being rational, but when he realized they were talking about their engagement, his blood ran cold.

“I have no choice! I feel so...trapped,” she responded. Jumin felt a wave of nausea crash over him, the weight of her words hitting him unexpectedly hard. He couldn’t help the anguished, shaky sigh that left his lips, his mind aching to know more even though he wished to have never picked up the phone.

“You’re the one I love. It’s always been you,” she spoke passionately. He could have sworn he felt his heart tear itself into pieces, a trembling hand reaching up to press against his chest.

“I hoped that you felt the same, but...what about him?” Zen asked, prompting the hand that held Jumin’s phone to his ear to slowly fall to his desk. He ended the call, knowing that he’d heard enough.

Jumin stared at the pile of work in front of him, absently wondering if he’d ever felt such a tight, strangling feeling in his throat before. And when a tear rolled down his cheek, he almost laughed at how ridiculous he felt.

For a few moments, he was furious with himself. He’d known better than to follow in his father’s footsteps, but he’d been blind. She’d blinded him. His heart had become hers so quickly, so completely, because he’d thought she would be different.

After those moments passed, his anger was redirected, and his hand found his phone again. He burst out of his office, knowing that things needed to be dealt with swiftly for the sake of the company. He couldn’t waste any more time.

Driver Kim asked no questions as he drove to Zen’s apartment complex, and Jumin ignored every call from Jaehee, declining them as they came. His teeth were grinding together so harshly that part of him feared his teeth would shatter. The tension in his clenched fists only grew as he imagined what the two of them were saying, or doing, as he grew nearer.

Jumin silently got out of the car once they’d arrived in front of the apartment building. He hadn’t anticipated the trembling in his legs or his hands, but he worked to make his stride purposeful and swift. He felt as if he would fall apart at any moment, but there was no time for that.

Four swift raps on Zen’s door sent his heart into a frenzy once more, and he realized only then that he would see her within seconds. Her face, her lips, her eyes, her smile. But he’d already chosen to give all of her up. She didn’t truly care for him anyway.

Zen had no smile for him as the door swung open, only an expression of confusion. Seeing the man in front of him sparked something that he’d never felt before, but he tried to contain it because he could easily see himself barreling his fist into Zen’s face.

And he might have gone through with doing so if she hadn’t popped out from behind him with the brightest smile he’d seen all day.

“Jumin!” she exclaimed, pushing past Zen and rushing to his side. She gazed up at him happily, but the look he met her with stopped her in her tracks.

“Jumin?” she asked, her voice small. His eyes returned to Zen as he felt the tips of his ears burn with anger.

“I know what’s going on,” he growled, his voice coming out much lower than he’d anticipated. Zen glared in response, looking irritatingly clueless.

“You do?” she asked beside him, her hands pressing against his upper arm and distracting him. But that only made him angrier, so he stepped away from her, trying not to acknowledge the pang of guilt that shot through him when her face fell.

“You still don’t realize you called me while you two were confessing your feelings,” he said lowly, seeing her eyes widen and shift to Zen.

“Wait--” she started, quickly being cut off.

“What are you talking about?” he asked loudly, taking a step towards Jumin. The fact that they were both trying to deny it filled him with rage, making a short, loud breath rush from his nose.

“I understand your dislike of me, but this is a level of disrespect I didn’t expect, even from you,” he spoke firmly, seeing Zen’s expression twist into anger to match his own.

“Disrespect? I have no idea what you’re even talking about!” Zen yelled, making Jumin stop and take a deep breath before he lost his control completely.

“I heard you,” he began, taking another breath before looking at his fianceé. “I heard you telling him that you love him.” Her lips pressed into a trembling pout, and tears gathered in her eyes. He looked away quickly, unable to contain the emotions surging within himself at the sight of her.

“And I heard you say you felt the same way,” Jumin seethed, returning his hard gaze to Zen. The actor flinched, stopping to think for a moment before raising his eyebrows.

“Hold on,” he scoffed, a brief laugh coming from him. The sound infuriated Jumin further, the impropriety in his crimson eyes finally pushing him over the edge.

Jumin grabbed the collar of his shirt, shoving him back against the wall next to his apartment door. Zen gasped, his eyes blowing wide open in fury and shock.

“Tell me right now,” Jumin growled, twisting his grip against the fabric of Zen’s shirt. “How long has this been going on?” His ears were ringing to the point that he couldn’t hear his fianceé begin to cry behind him, his senses completely honed in on the man he’d pinned to the wall.

“No, you listen!” Zen yelled, gripping his wrist forcefully. “If you’re talking about the lines we were practicing for my show, congratulations! You look like a complete idiot,” Zen spat, making Jumin narrow his eyes.

“Excuse me?” he spoke lowly, feeling another wave of nausea hit him but not wanting to believe he’d misunderstood so severely.

“I-I must have accidentally c-called you,” she spoke up, rushing to their sides with tears on her rosy cheeks. Jumin eyed her, glancing back at Zen for confirmation.

“She was helping me practice for my upcoming rehearsal,” the actor offered, his eyes still wide and his expression still one of disbelief. “I’ll show you the script if you still don’t believe me. Will you let go?” he hissed, yanking on Jumin’s wrist as he hesitantly let Zen away from the wall.

His eyes wandered back to her as she trembled just beside the two of them, her hands over her heart. What he’d perceived as guilt now became worry in her shining eyes, his shattered heart plummeting into the pit in his stomach. He’d never felt so childish and ashamed.

Zen smoothed out his shirt, huffing in exasperation when Jumin met his eyes for a moment. He could feel the bile rising in his throat, his knees weakening underneath himself and threatening to give out. What had he done?

“I...I’m sorry,” he choked out, not daring to meet her eyes even though her watery gaze was glued to him. He turned quickly, keeping his eyes on the ground as he quietly excused himself.

Jumin began walking back to the car, willing himself to become numb instead of dealing with the whirlwind of emotions inside of him.

He heard footsteps rushing after him, his eyes falling closed when his own steps faltered involuntarily.

“Jumin,” she whimpered, moving to stand in front of him. It took him a moment to meet her eyes, cursing himself for all of the horrible things he’d assumed about her in just the past half hour.

But in that moment, all of her attention was on him like Zen had never existed, and he wished he was worthy of falling into her arms and hiding from the rest of the world and all his sins.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, bidding more tears to fall from her reddened eyes. He shook his head weakly, clenching his fists at his sides.

“I made assumptions and didn’t think to talk with you first. I’m the one who’s should be apologizing,” he said, sounding pathetic and small. She sighed heavily, shaking her head and moving closer into a hug that he didn’t have the strength to resist.

“It’s always been you, Jumin,” she breathed, holding him tightly. He longed to find comfort in her words, but couldn’t help but find the resemblance to the ones he’d heard over the phone, line from a script or not.

He let her hold him, feeling his hands continue to tremble as he pressed them against her lower back. The way she embraced him spoke volumes to him about her sincerity, but he couldn’t remove the seed of doubt that had been planted in his heart.

So he tightened his arms around her, swearing to himself to make sure she’d remain by his side even if she’d been lying.

~~~~~

aaaah thank you for reading, and welcome to mysme angst week 2020! 

writing like this is definitely a little new to me, but i had a lot of fun preparing these pieces for this week! i hope you all enjoy, and thank you for all your support and love! <3 

[missaudreyhorney]

Afterschool Special

Again, I am shocked and delighted that people are enjoying the beginning of this series as much as I’m enjoying writing it. I cannot thank you all enough for your kind words and encouragement. In this third installment, Hopper and Reader get to spend some “alone time” together. That’s all I’m going to say about it 😊

Content warnings: Rated M for more age gap, Daddy kink, physical intimidation, over the clothes touching, and a new addition of under the clothes kissing. Female Reader, modern AU, 2.5k words.

You call Jim Hopper on Monday afternoon in between classes. His voice is even deeper and sexier over the phone than you remember it sounding the night before. He seems happy to hear from you and you try to hide how giddy you are about it. Sensing that the attraction between you two is very mutual, you don’t hesitate to set up a meeting. He tells you that he has Wednesday off from work, and for a second, you seriously consider ditching all your classes to spend the entire day with him. Instead, you agree to meet up at his house at four o’clock, which gives you enough time to go home and change after school.

Normally on a date, you would prefer to wear a dress but the winter chill in the February air sadly prevents that. Hopefully you won’t feel out of place wearing a heavy sweater and a pair of jeans to wherever it is he wants to take you.

The address he gave seems to be out in the middle of nowhere and multiple times you wonder if the GPS navigation is telling you to go in the wrong direction. Eventually, you find the place and it’s not so much a house as it is a cabin in the woods. It almost looks abandoned except for his car parked out front.

Any misgivings you have about the place are dispelled when you see Hopper standing on the porch and smoking as he waits for you. All your friends complain about guys who smoke, and that they hate the smell, but not you. You think it’s sexy and you even enjoy the smell.

A smile spreads across his handsome face when he sees you and it gets wider when you step out of the car. “Come on in, sweetheart,” he greets you with a white cloud billowing out from his mouth.

Anticipation rushes through your veins. When you last saw each other, and when you spoke on the phone, there seemed to be a promise of more, a promise to finish what he started when he came up to your room. You know that something will happen today, you’re just not sure how or when.

Once you reach the top of the steps, he says “It’s open. I’ll be in in a minute” as the unfiltered cigarette dangles between his lips.

Opening the door slowly, you let yourself in then put your purse down and look around. The cabin is…rustic. None of the furniture matches. Some of it looks to be as old as you are. There’s a decent red sofa but it’s covered in a patchwork quilt. There’s a plaid chair against the wall and it too has a blanket draped across the top, one that’s knitted or perhaps crocheted. The only things to indicate that you haven’t arrived here in a time machine are the flat screen tv on the wall and a new Apple computer on an old wooden desk.

Hopper steps into the room a moment later. “Why don’t you take your coat off and stay awhile?” He touches your back as he walks past you to go into the kitchen.

“Oh, um, okay.” You suppose he wants to talk a little bit or perhaps finish something up before you leave. Hanging your coat up on the rack, you notice a small pair of tennis shoes on the floor. “Do you live here alone?”

“No, my daughter lives here with me.”

His daughter? Gosh, Hopper really is a DILF. You follow him into the kitchen and your brain starts to connect some dots. “Is she the reason why you left so suddenly on Sunday night?”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he says as he takes an ice tray out of the freezer.

“It’s okay. I’m just glad it wasn’t your wife.”

“Oh no, I’ve been divorced for a long time now,” he assures you.

Your eyes roam over Hopper’s large frame while you watch him pop the cubes out of the tray and fill it back up again. He’s wearing jeans and a blue flannel shirt, with the top two buttons undone, and a navy henley underneath. His scent of cigarettes and soap makes it seem as if he must have smoked immediately after getting out of the shower.

For a brief moment, you entertain the idea of ripping his clothes off right here and now, forgoing any previous plans you might have for your date. That’s where you’re hoping this will all lead anyway so what’s wrong with cutting to the chase?

In an attempt to restrain yourself, you bring up the one subject that will take your mind out of the gutter. “How did you meet my parents?”

“They brought one of their cars to my shop. I’m a mechanic.”

The attempt proves feeble as your mouth instantly begins to water at the mental image of Jim Hopper bending over the engine of a car, sticking out his cute butt in his Wrangler jeans, his hands and his face getting all dirty and sweaty.

“Can I make you a drink?” he offers, getting a glass off the shelf. “You are old enough to drink, right?”

You playfully roll your eyes. “Yes, I’m old enough.”

“I don’t have to check your ID, do I?” He winks at you and it’s as charming as it is corny.

“You can if you want to,” you respond.

“No, I believe you.” He opens a bottle of Jack Daniels and lifts it above his glass.

“Wait, you’re making a drink now? When are we gonna go?”

He puts the bottle on the counter. “Go where?”

“Is this it?” you ask, slightly stunned.

“Is what it?” Deep ridges form on Hopper’s forehead as he raises his eyebrows in irritation.

“I thought we were going to go on a date,” you explain.

His features soften as he chuckles at you. “We’re not going anywhere, sweetheart.” He gleefully pours the whiskey into his glass.

“So we’re just going to stay here and…?”

“Yeah,” he confirms with a smug grin. “We are.”

Suddenly your idea of tearing his clothes off seems like it would be more welcomed than you had anticipated.

“What’ll it be?” he asks, getting himself a can of Coke out of the refrigerator.

“I’ll have a water.”

Hopper pulls out a bottle of water and hands it to you. “You know this was your idea, right? You didn’t mention anything on the phone about a date.”

“I know, I guess I...assumed we’d go out.” You take a much-needed sip.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” he offers in a considerably softer tone than you’ve heard from him thus far.

“No,” you smile at him. “I want to stay.”

He smiles back at you then takes a drink.

“It just would have been nice if you took me out somewhere,” you remark before raising the bottle to your lips again.

“Why beat around the bush? We both already know what we want.” He takes another drink then sets his glass down. “Unless of course, you want us to be seen together,” he adds, moving directly in front of you, with mere centimeters between your bodies.

Your heart starts racing as Hopper glares down at you with a storm churning in his deep blue eyes.

”Maybe you want people to look at us and know that I’m twice your age.” He leans in closer, backing you into the corner of the wooden counter. “Maybe you want to hear them say ‘what’s that dirty old man doing with that beautiful young girl?’” He enunciates every word in a biting tone as if he’s scolding you.

Your bodies are so close together that you can actually feel the heat radiating off of him.

“If that’s what you want, I can take you anywhere. We can leave right now,” he offers in a slightly more casual voice. “I just don’t see any point in wasting time when it’s so obvious what you came here for.”

“What’s that?” you accidentally say in a whisper.

Hopper takes a step back from you. “Go in the bedroom and I’ll show you.”

With a deep inhalation, you slip away from him and run out of the kitchen then immediately run back. “Which one is your bedroom?” you almost shout.

“The one on the left,” he answers, trying not to laugh at your over the top enthusiasm.

You pull the curtain in the doorway so hard that it feels like it might rip away from the rod. Yanking your sweater above your head, you kick off your shoes at the same time.

Lying back on the bed, you can feel how wet he’s already made you. Your body is practically vibrating with excitement as you hear the heavy steps of his boots as he approaches. A shiver runs through you when he enters the room.

“Where were we?” Hopper asks, kneeling onto the foot of the bed.

“You were on top of me,” you recall.

“Uh-huh,” he nods, positioning himself between your open legs.

“And I think you were going to unhook my bra?”

He runs his hands under your t-shirt and up the sides of your body. “You’re not wearing a bra.”

“I thought we could skip that part.”

He pulls your shirt up over your chest. “Good thinking.”

Without missing a beat, his lips are on your breasts, kissing both of them with his warm, wet, open mouth. Your left nipple hardens as Hopper swirls his tongue around it, making you push your hips into him. His lips close around the bud and begin to suck.

“Oh, Daddy,” you moan, using the title with no regret this time.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he pauses long to speak then immediately begins sucking on your other nipple.

Just like on Sunday, his mouth is rough. Not solely the texture of his scruffy beard against your soft skin, but the ferocity with which he sucks on you and teases you with his teeth. Also just like Sunday, he moves his hand in between your thighs and pushes his palm against the center seam of your jeans.

You hiss when he bites down hard into your flesh, clearly not holding back this time. It’s an exquisite pain that you could easily become addicted to. Your fingernails claw at his shirt when he rolls your nipple between his teeth.

Hopper is working you into a frenzy with the way his hand presses into your jeans, rubbing your pussy through the denim. All the different sensations he’s causing in your body are starting to become too much and you need a release.

“Daddy, please,” you beg breathlessly.

Your nipple pops out from between his lips with a vulgar sound. “Please what?”

You’re unable to answer him as your mouth is too busy moaning while his hand brings back that familiar ache.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he instructs between licks.

“Your f-” you interrupt yourself with another moan. “Your fin-”

“You want my fingers inside you, is that it?” Hopper asks as you grind your crotch into his palm, desperate for all the friction you can get.

“Yes, Daddy!” you finally manage to force out two coherent words.

He unbuttons your jeans and you hear a noise coming from the living room. You both ignore it while he ever so slowly starts to pull down your zipper. Until you hear another noise. Not a noise actually. A voice. Two voices.

Hopper’s hands fall from the zipper, landing on your sides, while his head sinks down in defeat. Your body tenses with worry that whoever it is might come into the room as there’s no door to keep them out.

The two young voices are arguing about something but your brain is far too preoccupied to be able to comprehend the subject of the argument. The only thing you can manage to infer in your current state is that it must be his daughter and one of her friends from school.

Hopper gets up from the bed, leaving your chest fully exposed, and you tug your shirt back down. He has you throbbing with need, and exactly like the last time, your hopes for satisfaction have been quickly dashed by an intrusive family member.

When he goes into the living room to mediate the situation, you sit up and see something on his nightstand that you were in too much of a rush to notice before. Magnum XL condoms, not one but three, the edges of the gold foil still attached to each other.

“For Pete's sake, what’s going on out here?” Hopper demands above the sound of their bickering.

“Mike was staring at Stacey Albright,” his daughter explains.

“No, I wasn’t!” the boy interjects.

“Who’s Stacey Albright?” Hopper asks.

“A girl at our school who stuffs her bra,” she answers.

“She does not stuff her bra,” the boy disputes.

“How do you know that if you weren’t staring?” she raises her voice.

“I was not staring!” the boy yells back.

“Both of you calm down, alright? Jesus.”

Hopper opens the curtain, walks in, and closes it behind him. “Listen, I’m sorry but I gotta-” he begins to apologize in a dejected tone.

“No, I understand,” you reply, cutting him off as you stand up from the bed before pulling on your sweater and shoes. “I should go.”

When you turn to walk out of the room, he grabs onto your upper arms. He doesn’t mean to startle you, it happens solely by accident because he’s so strong. “Look at me,” he suggests, trying to get you to make eye contact.

You gaze up into his gorgeous blue eyes and he starts to smile.

“I still want to see you again,” he says warmly.

“Me too,” you agree, reciprocating his smile.

The kids resume their argument and Hopper rolls his eyes. “Please call me,” he adds before letting go of you.

“I will,” you confirm.

You open the curtain and both of the kids’ mouths fall silent as they watch you emerge from the bedroom. They look to be about fourteen or fifteen-years-old. The girl has brown eyes, long brown hair, and the most perfect skin you’ve ever seen on a teenager. She forces an awkward smile to be polite. The boy is tall and pale, with sharp cheekbones and curly black hair like a rockstar from the ’70s. He glances back and forth between you and Hopper with a confused expression on his face.

“This is my daughter, Elle,” Hopper introduces.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi,” you say back, your voice sounding squeaky with nerves.

“And her boyfriend, Mike,” Hopper continues.

“Ex-boyfriend,” Elle corrects.

“What? That’s not fair!” Mike exclaims.

They start bickering once more and you shoot Hopper a sympathetic look as you grab your coat and purse then slip out the front door. It feels like the universe is conspiring against the two of you, trying to keep you from having sex with each other, like a cosmic cockblock. As you drive away from the cabin, you silently pray that the next time will provide the relief you’re yet again so desperate for.

Tagging: @t-u-m-s @girlwiththenegantattoo @ottosuricato @im-not-great-at-making-up-names @misshawkins1993 @emilyyblackkk @hopperlover @kingphillipblake @kate110199 @david-harbour-arg @manawhaat @helena-mrs-murder​ @zombiesnips-blog​ @chiefharbour​ @flamehairedwritings​ @s-h-e-w-r-i-t-e-s​ @strawberry-fields-f0rever​ @mrs-geuse​

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Image credit: HarbourSource on Instagram

[still-busy-being-mortal]

the rising of the moon

word count: 4544

rating: G

fandom: the mechanisms

warnings: major character death

summary: They've lived so long together, perhaps it is only fitting they die alone.

story notes: so this came about as a result of wanting to cry MORE about the mechs. don't ask me why.

features raphaella spouting unnecessary science jargon, ivy being emotionally repressed/depressed, drumbot brian holding a conversation with himself, and the toy soldier being actually emotionally intelligent.

——————

JONNY

It’s a quiet day aboard the starship formerly known as The Aurora. Most of the crew is out, and she’s drifting slowly through a dusty asteroid field. Ivy has stayed aboard to read, and Drumbot Brian was designated ship-sitter, so he’s stayed on as well. When enough time has passed (Is it days? Or decades? No one knows anymore, and no one cares. They are all so tired.), Brian hits the alert switch that will tell the Mechanisms to come home.

Ivy feels the gentle vibration in her brain --the pulse of The Aurora’s beacon-- and she puts her book down before walking slowly to the navigation bridge. Marius’ hand starts to buzz, messing up his note-taking; he apologizes to the rather fascinating asteroid-dweller he’s interviewing and takes his leave. Ashes feels their chest hum, and they turn away from their beautiful, fiery meteor shower.

[read more on ao3, or continue below!]

One by one, the Mechs find their way home. It takes some longer than others, but they all return eventually. Or they should; right now, there are only seven crewmates in the navigation bridge.

“I’m sick of waiting--where the hell is Jonny?” Tim whines.

“I guess he decided to stay in the asteroid belt?” Marius says.

“Woulda been nice to let us know,” mutters Ashes, “So we’re not all sittin’ here for ages.”

Brian stands and raises his hand. “All in favour of leaving and returning in a few decades?” They all agree, so he pilots Aurora away from the asteroid field.

Time goes by, and they do not hear from Jonny. Of course, members of the crew sometimes stay away for long periods of time, but that doesn’t mean their absence is not felt. And Jonny hasn’t appeared to try and contact them at all.

After a while, they vote to return to the asteroid belt. When they arrive, they split up, communication devices in hand.

Ivy combs through her memory, trying to summon any knowledge she has on Asteroid Field 01.18.20. The Toy Soldier moves methodically from meteor to meteor, searching for their lost comrade. Raphaella interviews any inhabitants she comes across, axially coding their qualitative responses to identify patterns in the data. Tim goes to a bar for a drink, irritated at Jonny’s latest antic.

He walks into some nameless, backwater joint and sits at the counter, flagging down the bartender with a lazy wave. He orders and waits, mechanical eyes roving the establishment. And then he freezes.

On the far wall hang a few dozen photographs, all dusty and poor quality. Above the photos is a crudely-done banner that simply reads “Cheers to Our Past Patrons.” One of the pictures is of Jonny.

When the bartender returns, Tim asks: “What’s the deal with the wall of fame, then?”

“Oh, that,” they answer tiredly. “Just sum dark joke the old owner thought up. Them’s the folks who kicked it in this here bar, you see.”

Tim was confused. “You mean those people died here? That can’t be right; my friend’s up there, and he can’t d--he’s alive.”

The barkeep shrugged. “Don’t know, pal. We had to bury most of thems out back, if you reckon you want to check.” He chuckled darkly and went back to drink-making.

Tim quickly finished his drink and went out the back door. He debated alerting the other Mechs about this development, but decided he might as well see for himself first.

He found the makeshift graveyard quickly, small rusty mounds amid the equally rusty asteroid outback. Some displayed names on roughly carved wood planks, but obviously none of them said “Jonny d’Ville” (Tim laughed at the idea of Jonny carrying around an ID). Most were unmarked, however, so he started to dig.

He used his hands, too impatient to try and find a shovel. He came across bodies and bones in various stages of decay, but none that had any chance of being Jonny. About fed up with this ridiculous idea of his, he decided to dig up one more grave. He shovelled dirt and rocks out of the way, until his hand hit something hard and cold. Something metallic. He pulled on it, and came away with a belt. Christ , he thought.

He quickly scooped away the rest of the dirt, revealing the corpse of Captain First Mate Jonny d’Ville. Dead. Tim stumbled backward, hand fumbling for his comm. “Um, mates, I-I found him.”

The Mechanisms were different after that. Yes, Nastya had gone Out long ago, but they had never actually come across her dead corpse , so it wasn’t the same. Marius had examined his body and declared him fully, completely, and irrevocably dead. They had held a funeral, but they were all too much in shock to really remember it. All they knew was that they were down a crew member, without a captain first mate, and terribly aware of their own mortality.

ASHES

About half the crew was in Raphaella’s lab, helping her with some complex kind of experiment. Raph was mixing two viciously green liquids together, while Marius was unspooling wire from a large bobbin. The Toy Soldier was holding an ultraviolet light against a motherboard, and Ashes connected the motherboard to the chartreuse concoction using the wires. After pouring all of the chemicals, Raphaella pulled on some rubber gloves and pulled out a small pocketwatch from her shirt. “Are we ready?” she asked gleefully. Without waiting for an answer, she started the countdown. “Five! Four! Three! T--curses!” The pocketwatch slipped from her gloved grasp and fell into the churning beaker. All at once there was a flash and a bang, and the lights went out. They stood in complete silence for a minute, before the backup generators flicked on.

The Toy Soldier clapped its hands, “That Was Jolly Good! Can We Do It Again?”

“No, TS, look, I got goop on my--wait!” Marius shouted, “Where’s Ashes?” They all turned to look at where the quartermaster had been just moments before. The floor where they’d been standing was a scorched, intricate, dark pattern of swirls. “What the hell is that ?”

“I Do Not Know, But I Will Go Get The Archivist!”

TS returned with Ivy, who took one look at the patterns on the floor and asked: “Who is it that has been time travelling?”

“Time travelling?!” Raph exclaimed.

“Yes,” Ivy said, “Those marks are a perfect exemplar of the evidence left behind when one has been forcibly transported forward or backward in the time continuum. Which one of you did it? Did you happen to bring back any books?”

“It wasn’t us: it was Ashes.” Marius said, “And we don’t think they’ve come back yet.”

Ivy grew very pale. “That is highly alarming. There’s a less than 0.1% chance that a time traveller ever comes back if they do not return instantly after the outset of their journey.”

“Y-you mean Ashes might not...” Marius trailed off, “...Wait a second! That doesn’t make sense! We don’t experience time linearly!”

“That may be true, but we are not forcibly moved through it either. We are at the whim of the narrative flow, and any alteration to that usually produces negative results.”

The Toy Soldier flashed through many emotions at once, though its face never changed. “So Quartermaster O’Reilly Is...Gone?”

“We can’t prove that yet!” Raph cried, fluttering around the lab and grabbing various scientific instruments. “Maybe if I can pinpoint when exactly they’ve been transported to, we can...we can bring them back.”

“That’s quite a long shot,” Marius said.

“What is science if not a shot into the ignorant dark?” Raph replied, rigging up a technological monstrosity. She aimed the thing at the charred spot and clicked a button, causing the machine to emit a pulsating, whirring sound. “Oh, you all might want to close your eyes.”

With a burst of green and a harsh dial tone, the thing spit out a strip of paper. Raph grabbed it and read it intently. She dropped it suddenly, eyes distant and empty. “They are gone.”

The room burst into a cacophony. (“What do you mean?!” “Gone How? Gone Forever ?” “It was statistically unlikely that they could have returned.”) Raph picked up the paper and pressed it onto the lab table. Most of it was meaningless words and numbers, but Raph pointed out a string in the center: “RESULT) DATE: %& INFINITE ROUNDING ERROR $! _ LOCATION: SINGULARITY!UNIVERSAL IMPLOSION. ANALYSIS) CHANCE OF TERMINATION: 100.0% +-0.0 R = 1.0”

“They’re gone.”

RAPHAELLA

The crew was far more disorganized after Ashes left. With no one to maintain inventory or keep the crew in line, The Mechanisms started to fall apart. Raphaella tried for a while to build some kind of time-travelling device, some way of defying the inexorable march of the story, but it was in vain. She was left with only one option; one experiment she hadn’t tried yet.

She carefully laser cuts some metal from the starship once known as the Aurora. She sits in Nastya’s former workshop for hours, bending and twisting and fabricating until she is left with wings; wings more breathtaking than any she has possessed before. Once on, they fan out behind her in a starburst of blue and metallic grey.

But her crew will never see them. In the cover of darkness, she steals away to the airlock. The ship is currently sailing past a black hole (Raphaella has the Messier number and NGC identification memorized, but that’s not her concern now). With one final look backward at the place that had been her home for millennia --the place she thought she would call home forever -- she casts herself into the black hole.

Ivy finds the note she left, succinct and unmincing as ever:

“Addressed to whoever finds this first:

After a brief review of prior literature, I have found extensive holes (no pun intended) in the study of singularities, specifically as it relates to a singularity’s effect on a humanoid body and mind. I seek to rectify this, as well as explore the possibility of horological manipulation, though perhaps my methods are not entirely replicable. It is every scientist’s dream to be on the cutting edge of research, and so I initiate this experiment joyfully. Also, black holes are hypothesized to have magnificent magnetic fields!

Yours,

Dr. Raphaella La Cognizi”

TIM

Tim, Marius, the Toy Soldier, Brian, and Ivy wait. They do not wait together, and they do not know what exactly it is they’re waiting for, but they wait nevertheless.

Time passes.

Brian pilots the ship towards various planets, pointless battles, dying stars. One day, the remaining Mechs arrive at a lawless sea-based war occurring on a planet composed entirely of liquid obsidian. They commandeer a ship (which they dub the ‘Dawn’) and spend decades wreaking havoc as the most formidable group of pirates. But Tim knows something is wrong.

“Tim, take out that vessel off the starboard side.” Brian orders from the prow of the Dawn.

Tim smoothly preps, loads, and positions a cannon to aim directly at the enemy ship in question. He lights the fuse, and the cannon fires. The crew watch as the projectile hurls through the air, arcing like a cold meteor into the distance. They watch it come down towards the enemy vessel. And they watch it miss.

The crew turns to stare at Tim. He’s not nearly as mortified as they expected. In fact, he’s perfectly serene.

“Um, Tim…” Marius starts slowly, “D-did you know you, uh...missed?”

“Yep.” he responds, popping the ���p’.

“Did you mean to?”

“Nope.”

“And...you’re not upset by that?”

“Not especially.”

(“That’s a fascinatingly abnormal psychological response,” Marius mutters under his breath, jotting something down in a notebook he appears to have produced out of nowhere.)

The crew continues to stare as Tim goes below deck to his bunk, humming slightly.

Tim has known something was off for a long time now. His aim started to err by nanometres, then by millimeters, then more, until he was missing entire ships like today. He’d panicked at the beginning, of course, but now? Now, he was ready to be done.

He’d felt the pressure building up in his head, behind his eyes. He got spurts of tunnel vision randomly, and sometimes his vision just went to static. He gradually lost the ability to see some colors, as the electronic rods and cones went out one-by-one and refused to self-repair. But he wasn’t nervous or distressed or alarmed; he was excited.

You see, he’d been saving something for a special occasion. He didn’t know what ‘special occasion’ entailed, since the Mechs never consistently celebrated holidays or birthdays, but permanent death seemed like a pretty good one. He rooted around in his rucksack, and withdrew a set of shiny silver keys; keys he’d stolen a long, long time ago. These were the ignition keys to the largest gunship existence will ever see, and Tim planned to go out with a bang. That evening, he told the crew he wanted them all to return to the starship so he could be dropped off somewhere. They all agreed, since they didn’t have any real cares anymore, and they set off for the planet Tim had etched into his memory.

Tim sits in the cockpit of the gunship, the planet itself already ruined and smoking from fighting his way to get here. The Mechanisms were long gone, as he’d told them to leave without him. He hadn’t exactly said he wasn’t planning on coming back, but he thinks they understood. With one last grin of pure, unadulterated madness, he kicks the gunship into gear and blasts off.

The ship goes too fast to comprehend, and in an instant he’s shooting across the cosmos, shattering stars and razing entire systems of planets. The universe has never before witnessed such complete and utter desolation. Tim doesn’t process much during this rampage...until he starts to die.

He doesn’t know what he hit, but something has jolted the gunship just right, and he’s flung out the front glass. He knows he should die instantly, and he is, but his eyes are moving faster. They’re replaying his life, backwards, and he wants to groan with the cliché-ness of it all. But then it’s over. Or, almost over. At the very end, so fast, so short compared to the millennia he has lived, he catches sight of a young man in a trench. Bertie. A face he will never forget no matter how much longer he could have lived. And in the moments of blackness before he stops forever, he thinks about Bertie, about what comes next.

Faith is a moot point when you’re immortal, since you’ve quite literally come into contact with gods and demons, eldritch horrors and cosmic powers. But here, at the end of his wretchedly long existence, Tim wonders if he will ever see Bertie again. If he will ever see Jonny, or TS, or Ashes, or anyone ever again.

He dies blind, with their names on his lips.

IVY

Exposition: Ivy is quite spectacular at suppressing her emotions. She’s also skilled at identifying patterns, so by the time Raphaella left, she knew what was going on with 98% certainty. Without much fanfare, she packed her bags (5 for books and 1 for everything else), said goodbye to Marius, Brian, and the Toy Soldier, and left.

She rifled through her memory archives for the quaintest library she knew of, and headed there.

Rising Action: And so time passed.

Ivy read, and organized, and wrote, and...existed. Nothing happened, and nothing changed. Carmilla must have made an error in her mechanization because she’d never been the best at processing feelings, but she was happy, she thought.

Climax: A war came, and her library was attacked. With the numbest, most detached sense of purpose imaginable, she loaded an escape pod with random books she thought should be preserved and fired it out into the void. She didn’t even know she’d been hit until she’d fallen to the floor, blood streaming from a massive wound. She knows she is dying; she’d seen the patterns.

Denouement: Her brain whirs slower and slower, until it stops. The end.

MARIUS

They are not a crew any longer. Brian has firmly rooted himself on the bridge, more robot than man now. The Toy Soldier wanders the ship, searching for its friends who are playing the best game of hide-and-seek that the universe has ever seen. Marius putters along, doing some maintenance, writing down his thoughts, and waiting for his death.

He’d always known this life of theirs couldn’t last. Besides the conceptual and moral implications of an eternal existence without consequences, it didn’t even make sense physically . There was no such thing as a perpetual motion machine, and he was surprised his more rational-minded crewmates didn’t question it more. But now his theory had come to fruition, and his crew, his family , had slowly dropped off one-by-one, like leaves from an autumnal tree.

He’s at a bit of a loose end now. With no people left to talk to, no minds to pick, he doesn’t feel any sense of purpose. It’s not depression--he knows that; it’s more of a...cosmic futility.

He feels one last pull, one last tug of the all-pervading narrative, a tide of finality, urging him towards a certain door. He knows this door, knows what it means when he opens it. But he also knows all things come to an end eventually, so why not go out doing what he always did? Providing the comic relief.

“Time this for me, will you, Aurora?” he calls out. He turns the handle and steps inside.

BRIAN

Since Jonny’s death, Brian has been at war with himself. He supposes he’s always been at war with himself though, and his current moral quandary reminds him uncomfortably of his first.

Sitting on the bridge alone, he decides to have a conversation.

“So the crux of the problem is that we can bring people back from the dead, correct?”

He flips his switch. “Correct.”

He flips it back. “But the dilemma is whether we should bring the Mechs back or not.”

“Also correct.”

“Which we shouldn’t, because they wanted to die.”

“No, we should. We want them alive, right? Using magic is definitely the easiest way to achieve that.”

“But we need our family to be happy. God knows how long it’s been.”

“Is the end goal their happiness or our happiness?”

“If I answer that, will I change your mind?”

“Is altering the end goal really the moral way to win this argument?”

“You know what? Damn you.”

Time passes, and each crewmate’s departure only makes Brian’s contempt for his own inner hesitation grow. He spends years staring out into the cosmos, thoughts whirling just as fast as the dust and gases beyond the glass. He wonders if he will ever die and join his family, or if the degree of his artificiality will render him truly immortal. He hates that thought more than most anything else.

He stops smelling the smoke of Ashes’ fires one day, and wonders if his olfactory systems are shutting down.

He stops feeling the rumble of Raphaella’s experimental explosions, and wonders if his nerve endings are rusting.

He stops seeing the flash of Tim’s gunshots bounce around the corridors, and wonders if he’s gone as blind as the gunner himself.

He stops hearing Ivy’s narration, and wonders if his auditory fluids have finally trickled away.

One day, the lone violin that has been echoing throughout the empty starship fades out, and Brian feels his heart stop.

It restarts of course, but Brian knows.

He knows that it’s finally, finally time. Soon, very soon, there will be no more life aboard this ship. No life, where there had been life for eons. No life, where there had been life immortal.

His sense of taste has never come into doubt, because he can still taste the acridness of the Toy Soldier’s cooking wafting on the air. He decides it’s only right to bid goodbye, so he makes his way back to the kitchen. On the way, he passes the Doctor’s old laboratory. He briefly considers destroying it, bringing down the whole ship in a blaze of fire and brimstone, but he knows that isn’t right; it wouldn’t fulfill anything.

In the kitchen, the Toy Soldier is pulling something pink and grey and on fire out of the oven. “Hey, TS,” Brain says gently, leaning against the doorframe as his heart falters again. “I-I’ve got to talk to you.”

The Toy Soldier spins around. “Drumbot Brian!” it shouts joyfully. “How Have You Been, Old Chap! I Have Been Playing Hide-And-Seek With The Rest Of The Crew For A While Now, And They Are Definitely Winning! Have You Seen Them?”

“Oh, TS,” Brian says sadly, “We’re all who’s left now. Don’t you know? The others have gone.”

He sees the Toy Soldier’s wooden eyes soften, betraying an agedness he’s never seen before. “Of Course I Know, Bean. But What Have We Been Doing This Whole Time, If Not Pretending?”

Brian smiles sorrowfully, and TS matches it. “I just wanted to let you know, TS, that now it’s my turn to go.”

“I Know.” It salutes him. “Goodbye, Drumbot.”

Brain gently returns the salute, and leaves.

He stumbles through the ship, heart failing rapidly now, but he makes it to the airlock. He knows deep down that there’s only one way his story could end. His whole existence has been framed by empty solitude, with his family providing the best aberration one could wish for. With his body more an empty metal frame than a robot now, he opens the airlock and casts himself back into the cosmos, from whence he came, and where he would die.

THE TOY SOLDIER

Its friends are all gone away now, and it knows this. There is no more laughter aboard the starship once known as the Aurora. There is no more gunfire or explosions. There is no more music. The cold mass of metal drifts through the void of the uncaring cosmos, with no living being aboard.

But The Toy Soldier has to be sure; it has to guarantee that it is truly all alone now. So it visits its friends’ final resting places.

It spends some years gazing out the front windows of the ship. The thrusters have been broken for a long time now, and the Toy Soldier doesn’t know how to repair them, so it just sits and watches. It wants to see the Drumbot, so it pretends that it does. Soon enough, out the starboard porthole, it spies him. His metal is rusted and warped, frost rendering most of his face unrecognizable. A drum is still looped around his shoulder. The Toy Soldier tethers itself to the ship and goes outside for a moment, drifting towards the robot. It lays a wooden hand on his deformed chest, and feels that his heart beats no longer. It carves off a long curl of wood from its side, and places it in Brian’s frozen hand.

It returns to the ship. It hadn’t known where Marius had disappeared to, but now it feels the force of the narrative driving it towards a certain room. It opens the door, and a handful of mangy octokittens hiss at it and scurry away. There’s nothing in the room besides a pile of crumpled clothes, a broken violin, and a metal hand, but the Toy Soldier could recognize that style anywhere. It gently twists one of its own wooden hands off, and lays it on the mound.

The Toy Soldier knows that Ivy went somewhere far away, so it closes its eyes and pretends that it’s there. When it opens them again, it finds itself in the charred ruins of some great marble building. At its feet lay bones, a metal flute, and a mess of circuitry, untouched by the ash. The Toy Soldier reaches up, removes a piece of wood from the back of its head, and lays it besides the flute.

The Toy Soldier has a harder time finding the gunner. It’s drawn this way and that, chasing an intangible trail through the stars and galaxies. All of the planets it passes are devoid of life. Finally, finally, it stumbles across an enormous, gaping wreck of a starship, all mangled and smashed to pieces. The ship is so large, it’s drawn smaller asteroids into an orbit around it. On one of these rocky satellites, the Toy Soldier spies a body: a skeleton covered in a long brown coat with a guitar slung across it. A pair of mutilated, metal eyes rest in the skull. The Toy Soldier smiles sadly, removes one of its own wooden eyes, and slips it into the pocket of the coat.

It knows it cannot follow the science officer into a black hole. It does manage to find the sketches of the wings Raphaella designed, so it gathers them up, takes two chunks of wood from its back, finds Raph’s keyboard, and casts everything into the nearest singularity.

After pretending to be at the end of space and time, it finds itself there. There is nothing, absolutely nothing. It removes two segments of wood from deep within its chest and places them in the nothingness, along with the strings of an old electric bass it had found. As it winks back to the ship, it catches the faintest scent of gasoline.

It returns to the asteroid Jonny had died on, the start of their ignoble demise. It visits his grave, in the taupe dirt of the desert behind the backwater bar, and sees all of the trinkets and mementos the crew had left behind. It knows none of them left anything during their makeshift funeral, so that means each of them must have slipped away at some point to come here on their own. Ashes has left their best lighter, Tim a pair of dogtags. Marius left behind all of his notes of Jonny’s disaster of a brain, and Brian has deposited some sun-scorched piece of space station. His harmonica has also found its way here, somehow. The Toy Soldier slowly, slowly reaches into its chest and removes its wooden heart, laying it down atop the mound of dirt and memories. It walks away, and knows that it can finally, finally stop pretending.

AURORA

There is no record of where the Toy Soldier went next. It certainly did not return to the empty ship once known as the brilliant Aurora. The lifeless, soulless, music-less ship drifts on alone through the cosmos, rusting and warping until no one could tell it had ever been a ship at all. Eons pass, and whatever memory the universe might have had of The Mechanisms has been utterly lost.

Until the misshapen mass gets stuck in the orbit of a planet. Molded and formed by the planet’s gravity, the ship is reborn as a moon. And all at once, she comes to life.

As dawn washes over her, the young moon hears a voice. “Hello, dear,” a woman coos, “My name is Dr. Carmilla.”

[crybabyjam]

ship: todochako 

rating: g

length: 3k

summary: Todoroki picks up hitch-hiker!Uraraka.

c/w parental death (past), joking about murder

deleted from twitter, written for a former friend

---

The sun beats down heavy as Ochako tightens the straps of her backpack. In it was three changes of clothes, some stale bread, her dead phone.

It was only mid-morning but already she was sweating her absolute ass off.

She runs her fingers through her choppy hair, uneven on one edge because she hadn't had a mirror when she'd taken a rusty pair of scissors to them. Now she wishes she'd just shaved it all off, if only to save herself from a sweaty, overheated neck now.

Her parents had loved it when she'd had long hair.

Ochako remembers how her mom would wash the long strands for her every weekend, even when Ochako huffed and puffed and said she could do it herself.

Her mom always took the time to wash it gently, and condition with something sweet smelling— "Because a sweet girl like you deserves sweet hair, too."

And how her dad would braid it every time she visited, even when Ochako would have to undo it the next day. He would take his strong, worker's hands and lift each length of hair carefully so that he didn't tug on her tender scalp.

Now that they were gone, Ochako didn't see the point in keeping her hair long. It just slowed her down. It just made her /sad/.

She sighs, and steps out of the way when a car plows through a puddle right beside her.

Her legs get soaked, but it isn't anything worse than the day prior, when a truck had soaked her from head to toe.

Ochako just sighs and brushes the muddy water droplets from her already dirty legs.

It's a good thing she was out of socks, or else she'd have to start worrying about her shoes molding at this point.

She's just begun kicking her shoe off, to finish the rest of the trek up to the next city barefoot, when a car pulls up to a stop beside her.

"Are you alright?" A low voice asks, to her left. Ochako startles and twists on her heel.

She almost ignores it, because cars like that didn't stop for hitch-hikers like her.

But the car follows her a few more feet as she slows to a stop.

When she looks over her shoulder, confused, the man in the car tilts his head at her and nods.

"Are you alright?" He repeats. "I saw you get wet."

"Ah!" Ochako yells, and then lowers her voice. Geez, where are your manners, Uraraka? "I'm fine! Sorry."

The man blinks, and Ochako belatedly notices that he has the most stunning, grey eyes. Like darkened silver.

"Why should you be sorry?" He asks with a frown.

And then, he shakes his head.

"Do you need a ride? It's dangerous to get in a stranger's car, but you shouldn't walk around barefoot. Glass would hurt." He pauses, and then adds. "Probably less than murder, but I promise not to murder you."

Ochako is speechless.

But not speechless enough not to /laugh/ at the absurdity of the stranger.

She feels it bubble up in her chest like boiling water, and it floats out of her ugly, like when a pot spills the water and burns on the stove burner.

The man just watches, silent, as she wipes tears from her eye and keeps on laughing. He just leans against the steering wheel and waits patiently, face completely deadpan.

He's /serious/, and that just makes it funnier.

She gasps for breath as she leans against his car, one shoe falling to the pavement and skipping beneath the undercarriage, shit.

Ochako's laugh starts up again as she drops to her knees to retrieve it.

When she comes back up, knees blackened by sidewalk dust, and hands darkened by asphalt, the man is smiling. Just barely.

"I guess murder /would/ hurt more than stepping on glass." She agrees. "Depending on the type of murder."

He murmurs the words underneath his breath, eyebrows furrowing.

"You're right," he says, troubled.

She leans into the rolled down window, arms crossing to hide the ripped hem of t-shirt.

"You sure you /promise/ not to murder me? I kind of need my life."

Well. All things considering, it was pretty much all she had left. She couldn't exactly afford the house after her parents died. They hadn't been able to finish the down payments, and none of them (including Ochako) had enough savings to keep her afloat.

So, hitch-hiking. Walking to nowhere and hoping for more.

A few miles in an air-conditioned car was more than what she had, so she'll take it.

The man turns serious, though. The smile wipes off of his face— not replaced with a frown, but replaced with another deadpan look. He nods his head, making eye-contact the entire time, and says,

"I promise not to murder you."

Well.

He promised, at least. Ochako still had a little bit of mace in her pocket, if she needed it.

So she gets in the car.

---

His name is Todoroki Shouto and he has an open duffle bag of yen, two pillows with embroidered pillowcases, a shattered phone, and a half-full photo album in his backseat.

Ochako stares at the photo album instead of the other three things, because she definitely does not want to get murdered, thank you very much.

He was a cute baby. Two-toned hair from birth, and big eyes that only had one expression: wide. Ochako traces her ragged thumb nail across one of the pictures, where he's covered in cake frosting at his second birthday, and accidentally creases the polaroid image.

She hurriedly flips the page.

"Are you hungry?"

"I'm fine," Ochako mumbles, ignoring her tummy which immediately begins to grumble in argument. She flips another page to muffle the noise, and comes across more empty pockets than full ones.

From the way there's the edge of one polaroid still caught in one of the slots, Ochako assumes that they used to be just as full as the rest.

She flips to the back, and a roll of film flops into her lap.

"Do you even still have a camera for this?" Ochako asks, holding the strange, almost novel-looking thing up to the waxing light of the returning sun. Then she brings it back down to the shadows in case that might ruin the film inside, oops.

"At home," Todoroki says, low. Her shoes are in his lap, because he wanted her to have more room to look at the photo album. Ochako had tried to just place them on the floor of the car, but he looked so earnest in his offer that she hadn't been able to say no without feeling bad.

Besides, she had a feeling he was pretty harmless. Weird, but who wasn't?

"Oh, are you moving or something?" Ochako asks, and then immediately grimaces at the invasion of privacy. "I mean… 'cause of the stuff in your backseat."

"Moving…" Todoroki repeats, focusing on the road. They're driving slow enough that almost everyone passes by them, but Ochako got pretty motion-sick so she appreciated it.

Todoroki leans back in his seat, both hands at the very apex of the steering wheel. It's outlined in a leather cover and is so shiny that it almost looks metallic. Expensive as fuck, probably.

Everything about him looked pretty expensive, actually. The car was brand new, from this year. Still had the new smell and everything.

Ochako was actually pretty glad he insisted on the shoe-thing, if only to prevent mud stains.

Although his pants /did/ look pretty designer. Ah, fuck.

"Yes," Todoroki says, after the long moments of silence. "I'm moving."

"Oh! That's… fun. That's fun!" Ochako nods.

Todoroki turns them off of the road, and pulls into a parking spot. Ochako blinks past the raindrops on her side of the window, and squints out at the illuminated signs.

A restaurant. Ah, /fuck/. Ochako pats her shorts for her wallet, as if she could even /pretend/ it had money in it. All it had was her ID (almost expired) and a coupon for leg waxing.

"Do you want to come in with me?" Todoroki asks, turning to her completely. The seatbelt gets caught, and it does that thingy it does where it locks and gets tighter until you take it all the way off. He doesn't seem to mind.

Ochako smiles, though even she can feel how strained it is. "Ah, I'm fine. I should probably go actually, but thank you for the ride. The rain should stop soon, so…"

"Oh."

Todoroki frowns, glancing at the arm rest between them. He's engaged the parking brake even though they aren't on an incline, and Ochako's smile relaxes to something more real.

"It was really nice to meet you," she says. "I'd give you my phone number but I kinda didn't pay the bill." (Since, uh, last year, but he didn't need to know that.)

"It was nice to meet you too," Todoroki says. "I can buy you food."

"Oh," Ochako parrots, dumbly. Her eyes dart to the yen-bag and she hurries to shake her head. "I couldn't—"

"I don't mind. It's my dad's money— and he hates me. And I hate him, so." Todoroki finally takes off his too-tight seatbelt and it rattles noisily as it smacks against the car door.

"I…"

Ochako isn't sure how to approach /that/ particular landmine. Nor is she sure how she's supposed to resist free food. When had she last eaten. Two days ago, or something? She'd kinda been ignoring it, but the walking helped.

Now that she's technically resting, she can feel her tummy about to throw a conniption.

Todoroki blinks his wide eyes at her as he waits, not making a move. His blinks are slow, like a cat, and his eyes flicker back and forth between her own.

She sighs heavily, but a grin is already parting her lips. "You're a strange one, Todoroki."

"Am I?"

"I don't have any money, so you have to pay for all of it," she warns.

"I will."

"And I eat a lot! I haven't eaten in a while."

"Okay."

"And… and I want my shoes back."

Todoroki hands her the shoes. There's mud residue on his pants and the bottom of his shirt.

But he has a small smile on his face as he watches her struggle to put her shoes on in the closed space, so maybe it was alright.

---

Shouto watches as Uraraka stuffs two donut holes in her mouth, licking away the powdered sugar that paints across her lips. It looks like snow when it dusts down to her shorts, and smears chalky residue on her thighs.

He hands her a napkin, and she blushes pretty like a sunset paints ocean water pink when it sets at night.

"Sorry for the mess," she says quietly.

"It's okay. Is it good?"

"It's good!" She wiggles in her seat, and it reminds Shouto of a really happy hamster. "Do you want some?"

She's very beautiful. Her hair is cut in a way he's never really seen before, but it frames her face nicely. He likes it more than his almost-bowl cut. Some of her hair tickles across her shoulder, but she ignores it as she holds a donut hole out to him with a toothpick.

She keeps holding it as he bites down on the warm, cooked dough. He'd never really been fed by someone before. Well, as a baby— sure. But he had a feeling this was different. Was it different?

Shouto chews thoughtfully, and Uraraka smiles at him. She doesn't seem to mind feeding him. She stabs another one with the same toothpick and holds it out for him again, one hand underneath to catch the crumbs.

"Yummy, right? Thanks for buying them! I'll…" She flinches, interrupting herself. Her smile dims a little, like she'd lost power. "I'd offer to pay you back but, uh… ahaha, you know?"

Shouto /doesn't/ know, but he nods anyway. "I can buy you more," he says, soft. "You can take them with you. When you leave."

She uses the toothpick to prod and poke at the remaining few donut holes. They roll in the leftover powdered sugar at the bottom of the box.

"I'll be alright. But thank you." Her eyes get watery at the bottom lashes, and Shouto frowns. "You've been really kind."

When she laughs next, it's thick like she's close to sobbing. Her voice is shaky. Shouto doesn't like it- liked it much better when she was laughing /happily/ instead.

"Thanks for not murdering me," she adds. "This is probably the most fun I've had in a while."

"You can stay. I can drive you anywhere you want."

"Oh!" Uraraka jumps in her seat, as if he'd yelled it. He hadn't really spoken any louder than before, but he clears his throat and speaks even softer anyway.

"We just met, but I can take you anywhere you need to go. And I have enough money for the both of us. I really enjoy your company."

They're pulled off at an empty lot near a supermarket. Somewhere off in the distance is a park. The children there are loud, voices echoing in the evening ambiance.

Uraraka looks out towards the noise, but he can see her swallow heavily.

"That's kind of dangerous, isn't it? We just met."

She says it like how she says other things that are meant to be teasing. He nods anyway.

"It is. You can drive, if that makes you feel better. Or you can sit in the backseat. I would have bought a bigger car if I knew I would meet you today."

She laughs again, starting with a snort and ending with a giggle. It makes his heart beat faster in his chest, and he isn't sure if he's nervous or happy to hear it.

"What if /I'm/ the murderer?" Uraraka stabs one of the donut holes and brings it up to her mouth. She smiles at him when he frowns, and then smiles wider when he shrugs.

"If it happens, it happens."

"/Todoroki/." She slaps her palm against her forehead and sinks down in her seat. "That's the most dangerous mindset I've ever heard."

"I'm sorry?" He glances down at her the further she sinks, but she doesn't seem particularly angry. It looks like she's fighting, but on the inside. "It's not that dangerous."

"It's pretty dangerous."

She brushes her legs clean. Sits up straight and looks out the window again. Her breath fans out across the glass, fogging it.

He rolls the window down for her, and she does that snorting laugh again.

"You're a funny guy, Todoroki."

"Am I?"

"You are." Uraraka shifts in her seat, to pull her legs cross-crossed. There's one donut hole left in the box, and she rolls it around a few more times before she pokes it with that same toothpick and shoves it in her mouth.

As she chews, she glares at him. Almost like she can't see him and needs glasses. He leans in closer so that she can find what she's looking for.

"You're funny in both ways. Weird… but you make me laugh."

She closes up the box, fitting the toothpick between her teeth so that she can absently chew on it.

"So you're… 'moving'," she says, finally. "- and I don't have a home anymore. Where would we even go?"

Shouto glances past the parking lot, at the semi-distant street that is starting to pile with traffic after a brief lull. But his eyes inevitably drag back over to her.

Uraraka stares back, cheeks pink. A small smile grows on her face. She runs her fingernail across the edge of the empty donut box. He'd have to figure out a place to recycle it if he could.

There are so many places they could go. Somewhere warm, towards a beach. Or somewhere quiet, with wide hills and short buildings. To a festival. To a shoe store.

"Everywhere?"

"/Everywhere/?" Uraraka shakes her head, exasperated. "What about when we run out of money?"

Shouto shrugs. Uraraka laughs again. Her hand drifts to the middle console, palm up, and Shouto watches it for a while.

Then she leans over to grab his hand. Her fingers are warm, rough at the tips but soft everywhere else. She would look pretty in nail polish. /Prettier/, rather- if it were possible.

He maybe had a crush on her. Was this what love felt like? Soft hands and warm smiles? He liked it.

"I-"

She interrupts by leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. It's soft, like a feather landing on snow. "Take me everywhere, then. And then I'll give you my answer."

Shouto, dazed, touches his fingers to his cheek. He forgets to stop holding her hand, so hers come along with it. She doesn't seem to mind. "Your answer?"

"On whether or not I'll stay," she says, cheeky. "So you'd better make it a fun ride."

Shouto squeezes his other hand down on the steering wheel, if only to keep his heartbeat in his veins so that the organ doesn't leap out of his chest and act a fool. He accidentally steps on the gas, and the car revs in protest.

Uraraka laughs again. She tightens her hold on his hand and pulls it back down between them. He squeezes it back.

And when they get back on the road again, fifteen minutes later, Uraraka has gone from laughing to singing loud to the radio and dancing in her seat. She's pure joy.

---

It stops raining, and the world feels brighter.

[dewitty1]

Haunt the corner of my eye

harryromper @harryromper

Chapters: 5/5 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, John Dawlish, Angelina Johnson, Parvati Patil, Dennis Creevey Additional Tags: Post-Hogwarts, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Mystery And Angst With A Happy Ending, Auror Harry Potter, Student Draco Malfoy, Healer Luna Lovegood, Wizarding Politics (Harry Potter), Number Twelve Grimmauld Place

Summary:

Harry’s life is very much on track. After a successful career as an Auror, he’s set to become the youngest ever Minister for Magic. But strange things are starting to happen at Grimmauld Place. Items he doesn’t recognise are appearing left and right, and somehow he never feels quite alone. There’s only one thing Harry knows for sure: it has something to do with Draco Malfoy.

Excerpt:

Harry’s just turning off Upper Street when he sees him, stopped in the middle of the footpath, looking up at a sign. Malfoy’s tall: long limbs; blond hair falling in his eyes as he glances back down at a piece of paper clutched in his hand. He takes up space, indifferent to the way the sea of early-morning commuters is having to part around him. Arrogant as always. It flares rage at the edges of Harry’s frayed nerves and all of a sudden he’s pushing past people to get to him, grabbing at Malfoy’s shoulder before he can think about what he’s doing and shoving him up against the brick wall of a fish restaurant.

Harry’s suddenly acutely aware of just how close they are, heat radiating off his body from his run. The startled expression on Malfoy’s face narrows into suspicion rather than fear or disgust.

“What the fuck are you playing at?” Harry hisses, holding Malfoy in place against the wall with his forearm.

“You’re the one who just threw me into a fucking wall,” Malfoy sneers back. “I think you’re the one who should be offering explanations.”

Harry leans back a little, conscious that he’s causing a bit of a scene. He doesn’t have his fake Muggle ID with him, and the last thing he needs is to be confronted by the authorities over an assault, even if all he wants to do is punch Malfoy in his pale flawless face.

“Why are you doing this?” he demands, letting up the pressure on Malfoy’s chest a little, but reluctant to let him go completely.

“Doing what?” Malfoy snaps. “I was minding my own fucking business before you jumped me like a gorilla.”

“What’s in it for you?” Harry seethes, even more incensed now that Malfoy doesn’t seem prepared to admit to anything. “Sneaking around, following me. I see you everywhere. You’re not even supposed to be in London.”

Something flickers across Malfoy’s expression for just a moment, some split-second of recognition or acknowledgement, but then it’s gone, his stare cold again.

Harry rocks back on his heels, dropping his hold on Malfoy. He’ll just arrest him, he thinks. They can sort this out at the Ministry. But as he’s about to reach to where his wand is holstered at his lower back, his eyes cut down Malfoy’s body and he freezes.

Malfoy is wearing a t-shirt with the Arctic Monkeys logo on it. Suddenly Harry’s furious again.

“You’re trying to make me think I’m crazy, is that it? Why were you in my house? Why would you think it would be funny to leave that stupid shirt in my drawer?”

Malfoy glances down at his chest in confusion and then back up at Harry, his eyes flashing. “You know this shirt?” he asks urgently.

Harry groans, exasperated. “Stop messing about, this has gone on long enough.”

“Because I don’t know this shirt,” Malfoy snaps. “I have no idea what an arctic sodding monkey is, and until a couple of weeks ago, I’d have sworn I’d never worn a Muggle tee shirt in my life, but there’s dozens of them in my flat and I don’t understand what’s happening to me and if you do, then you need to explain yourself.”

Harry’s heart sinks. He thinks immediately back to his own confusion about the t-shirt. What in Godric’s name is going on?

“So you’re just going to play dumb, is that it? Pretend you haven’t been creeping around and messing with me. This is about the election, isn’t it? You’re opposed to my politics so you thought you’d stalk me and harrass me!”

“Not everything is about you, you self-centred narcissist,” Malfoy growls back. “I don’t give a fuck about your political campaign or the wizarding world’s stupid little elections. Someone has been messing with me. For days now. I’m constantly finding things I don’t recognise in my home. Everytime I turn around it’s like there’s someone just out of sight, out of the corner of my eye. I feel like there’s somewhere I’m supposed to be. Like I’ve forgotten an appointment but all the damned time.”

He slumps back against the wall, as if his outburst has sapped his energy, or as if he’s just now realising the pointlessness of shouting at Harry about it. By contrast, Harry’s brain is racing, thinking about how similar the feeling Malfoy’s describing is to the way he’s been experiencing the world over the last few weeks. That same nagging sense that he’s missing something.

He studies Malfoy more closely: the defeated posture, the tired shadows under his eyes that Harry knows mirror his own.

“What were you doing, just now?” Harry asks, lowering his voice. If Malfoy is surprised by his abrupt change in demeanor, he doesn’t let on. He produces a green and yellow slip of paper that he has had clutched in his hand.

“I found this at home. I don’t even know what a Snappy Snaps is, but it had an address on it so.” Malfoy gives a sigh and shrugs. “Nothing else has helped. I thought I’d try here.”

Harry takes the slip of paper and stares at it. He experiences the same discordant feeling he’s had all week. A sort of jangling in his nerves that he can’t understand and can’t get to settle down.

“I’ll come with you,” Harry says, handing the slip back.

“Look,” Malfoy groans, “if you’re going to arrest me, let’s just get on with it. It will take me a couple of days to get an Advocate on the continent prepared to represent me in whatever trumped-up breach of the Post-War Prohibitions you intend to charge me with.” Malfoy seems defeated now, the fight completely drained out of him. The way he says it makes Harry feel uncomfortable, as if it’s a foregone conclusion he won’t be treated fairly. Harry feels like he should be affronted by that, and a few minutes ago he probably would have been, but now he keeps looking at the slip of paper in Malfoy’s hand.

“I’m not going to arrest you,” he finds himself saying, before he can think better of it. “I’ll come with you, to this address.” Malfoy opens his mouth as if he’s about to protest and then thinks better of it, huffing as he pushes off the wall and past Harry, not waiting to see if he’ll follow.

The shopfront is a few doors down, and both Malfoy and Harry stand on the footpath looking at it, puzzled.

“Muggle photography?” Harry asks.

“Seems like. You’d know more than I would.”

Harry frowns at him. “You’re the one who’s been living as a Muggle.”

“Apparently,” Malfoy mutters under his breath, and then strides forward, pushing open the door to the shop.

Harry crosses the threshold in time to see Malfoy give the paper to a young woman, who glances at it briefly and then turns to the shelf behind her where thick shiny green envelopes are stacked, presumably full of photographs.

Harry’s still trying to work out how any of this makes sense. If Luna’s right, and Malfoy’s been lurking around in Muggle London for the last few years, none of this would be confusing to him. But at the same time, it’s extremely confusing for Harry, who feels like all of these things—the bar last night and the mailboxes before it—should be a lot less familiar to him than they seem to be.

The woman hands Malfoy one of the envelopes and he pays her with Muggle money. He turns back to Harry as he opens it, drawing out the stack of pictures, starting to leaf through them quickly. His expression collapses.

“Well, this certainly isn’t going to help matters.” He lets out a humourless laugh.

“What?”

Malfoy thrusts the whole packet at Harry pushing past him out onto the street as if he needs fresh air. When Harry glances down, he can see why. The photos are all of Harry and Malfoy. Together. On holiday, by the looks. Arms slung around one another in front of old stone buildings and pressed together in tiny restaurants with checkered tablecloths.

(๑ˊ͈ ॢꇴ ˋ͈)〜♡॰ॱ

[the-fiction-witch]

Hey BabyDoll...

TV SHOW: THE QUEENS GAMBIT COUPLE: BENNY WATTS X READER RATING: SMUTTYISH

writers notes: Is this just becoming and Benny watts account? NO! I swear I have other stuff I’m working on I have just been son inspired by this series and by Benny, I’ll also be away over the weekend for a holiday so I’m trying to get stuff done for you guys and all the other stuff im working on isn’t going to be ready in time where as they Benny stuff is.

I smiled sitting at my vanity gently kicking my feet letting my feet swing in my little kitten heels, a couple of the petticoats of my dress tickling my legs as I moved, as I concentrating hard on making sure my lipstick went on properly feeling the eyes of my mother stood on the doorframe to my bedroom as I rubbed my lips together putting my lipstick down "That Okay?" I asked her

"That's enough," she says so I got up and did a little spin in my dress "Take a cardigan"

"Mother..." I whine

"Y/n," She warns so I sighed grabbing my little white cardigan from my bedpost "Put it on" So I sighed slipping it on my shoulders she came over doing up a couple of the top buttons to cover my chest over a little more

"Mother It's just benny"

"yeah well... Benny's getting older, Better cover-up and be warm than be too revealed y/n"

"I know Mother" I sighed slightly rolling my eyes

"Either this or I get your father-" she began

"It's alright, you don't have to bother daddy" I answered

"Then you play by my rules," she says as she noticed the clock "Don't go to the east side of town, No Beer, No smoking, -" she began

"and home by eleven, I know mother" I finished

"And... Be careful"

"I'm always careful Mother, You really think benny's going to try anything?"

"I don't know, I barely know the boy," she says "I'm allowed to worry"

"Mother, The day benny Watt's tries anything with me is the day I'll see pig boarding an aeroplane" I laughed There was suddenly a Knock on our front door so she went down to answer it while I undid a button on the cardigan and added a little more makeup "chance would be a fine thing" I sighed

"Y/n, You have a Visitor" my mother calls from the bottom of the stairs so I fixed my hair and my dress and headed down the stairs blushing a little seeing him stood adorably. His shoes shined, his pants on loosely almost like they where too big for him, his black shirt on done up tightly with his jacket over the top his hair a little messy, he was clearly clean-shaven and obviously had a serious shower. But Like I always saw him when he came home from tournaments, he saw me fixing his hair a little and blushing a little bit

"Uhhh Hey Y/n" He smiled

"Hi benny" I smiled going over to him he took my hand giving it a little kiss "You look nice" I smiled

"You uhh You look beautiful Y/n"

"Your sweet" I smiled

"Go on, Have her home before eleven Mr Watts" My mother warned him

"Yes Mrs Y/l/n" he nodded offering his arm so I smiled taking it and going out the house and down the little dark streets of New York, I smiled waving to my mother as we headed down the street as soon as we where a far enough from the house we both started giggling and running off down the dark streets, We went and got ice cream and went dancing as we usually did before we headed off to the park "They hate me"

"They don't hate you benny" I laughed

"I'm not even allowed to have you out past eleven y/n" He complained, "How can we... have fun if I can't pick you up till nine and you have to be home by eleven?"

"I don't know, I keep begging my father to let me out earlier but he never allows it"

"What are they so scared off?"

"that... you'll try something with me" the second I said it he turned bright red

"T-T-Try what?"

"You know what benny" I smiled hitting him with my hip playfully

"But I-"

"I know you don't but they think you do"

"I hate dating" he sighed

"why?" I asked a little heartbroken

"Ohh no it's not you babydoll, Of course, I love spending time with you, but it's all this stupid stuff at this point I don't actually have to impress you I'm just impressing your parents"

"Umm, Very much so" I nodded "they keep badgering me" I laughed as we headed to the park close by our houses

"Well... I keep saying I'm happy to y/n"

"I know, I just, I don't want you to meet my father yet. He'll destroy you benny"

"Well Maybe if I go, He'll know how serious I am about his daughter" He smiled holding my hand

"I'll think about it, I just know he'll get you into a corner-" I began

"And Make me play against him," he finished

"And You'll beat him" I smiled

"You really think so?"

"Of course I do benny, your a million times better at chess then my father" I smiled "But if you beat him... he's not going to like it" I explain "But if you lose..."

"he might not think I'm good enough for his daughter"

"Umm," I nodded as we walked "So... when am I meeting your family?" I asked

"Uhhhhh Soon" He nods

"Soon?" I asked, "How soon?"

"Soon,"

"I've been asking a while"

"I know... I just, I don't know" he says

"Wouldn't you want me to?" I asked cautiously

"Of course I do, Of course, I want you to meet my family and I wanna meet yours it's just... Complicated babydoll"

"Don't you want to... you know?"

"Of course I do," he blushed so I smiled tugging him to a bench sitting down beside him and nuzzling into his shoulder and giving his cheek a kiss "Y/n! you'll get me in trouble" He blushed as I had left an imprint of my lipstick on his cheek "Your dad will kill me he saw you kissed me"

"Ohh benny Please, come on just a little kissy" I smiled holding his hands gently squeezing his hands a little

"Well... Okay," He blushed squeezing my hands a little too and giving my cheek a peek

"Why are you so nervous around me?" I asked

"Ohh well, I don't know really just not too sure how to act with... girls" He smiled

"Why not?"

"Chess isn't exactly a world full of girls y/n," he says "and... I can't help getting all nervous with you considering... how I feel about you"

"Which is?" I asked

"That I really like you" He smiled "I really do babydoll"

But soon enough his watch went off so we got up and sorted out heading back to my house hand in hand even if I started to shiver a little in the cold wind, he smiled to me slipping off his jacket to put it around my shoulders

"Aww thank you benny" I smiled

"Your welcome Babydoll" He smiled as we headed down my little road till we found ourselves at my front door "So... I have another tournament next week, so Uhh How about I come to see you once I'm home?"

"Id Like that Benny"

"Okay, I'll see you then" he smiled "Could I uhh... Could I kiss you? before I go?" he asked and I nodded he blushed a little moving closer trying to kiss him but before our lips could touch the door opened to my mother looking very very angry

"Get in this house this instant!" she says pulling me inside by my wrist "Young lady you were meant to be back before eleven it is twelve-thirty where were you!"

"I was just at the park with benny mother," I told her

"And what's this?" she asks wiping a rag on benny's cheek noticing the lipstick that came off when she did "and I heard you at the door," She says "You Up to your room now!" she ordered me I sighed heading up the stairs "and you, I don't want to see you near this house again-"

"Mother No Please-"

"Enough! Or I'll call down your father" she warned so I stayed quiet and headed upstairs.

I was so angry with my mother and with my father, they had forbidden me from seeing benny he wasn't even allowed to the house my father threatened to send me away to live with my aunt if he ever found out I had been seeing benny. They had tried making me go out with other boys but none of them ever showed any interest in me not like benny did, and I never showed any interest in them either so I spend my nights at home playing on my father's old chessboard when I heard a noise in the dark making me jump I froze with fear as there was another noise from my window, I turned and looked and noticed the window frame being pushed open and in from the darkness climbed "benny" I smiled in a rather hushed whisper "Benny you can't be here My father will kill you he knows your here," I began

"I know, I know, I just... I had to see you"

"Ohh benny" I smiled giving him a tight hug and he happily hugged me close I smiled pulling him to sit on my bed with me "why did you come?" I asked

"I had to see you babydoll, I haven't seen you in weeks, and I go away tomorrow I don't even know when I'll be back"

"I know, I wish they would let me see you" I sighed nuzzling on his chest

"I promise babydoll I'll figure something out while I'm away"

"You mean it? but there are a hundred other girls?"

"But there not you babydoll"

"Ohh Benny" I smiled blushing a little

"Y/n! what's going on in there!" I heard my mother yell from the other side of my door

"Uhh I was just watching Tv mother!" I lied "You should go... I don't want them to find you here, even if I'd much like you to stay"

"I know, I should go... don't want to get you in trouble but uhh before I go? Could I kiss you?" he asks  blushed a little and nodded holding his hand he blushed a little too before he moved capturing my lips in a quick and passionate open-mouth kiss I smiled happily kissing back he tasted like petricorn and tea and I instantly loved it I kissed back a lot moving my lips against his own our innocent little kiss turning into a teenage snog within seconds till I pulled back

"That uhh that's enough for one-night benny" I blushed even if I wanted so much more after so long of benny seeing me he was finally making some sort of move on me I felt like id waited years go that kiss and honestly... my breaths were short, my heart racing I wanted to push him as far as he would go, at last benny was starting to react to me other then blushing  I wanted to crack open that nervous little boy body and see the sort of man he could be below, I wanted to take everything he was going to give, I wanted to ... let him do anything to let him go crazy, to let him have me, but I knew with my parents just on the other side of the wall I didn't want to imagine the trouble we would be in if they found him here

"Your right, Until next time Babydoll" he smiled kissing my lips sweetly before he went out my window climbing down the drainpipe he even blew me a little kiss as he reached the pavement.

I sat in my room looking out the window to the busy new york streets humming a little tune when suddenly I saw someone come down the street and to out front door I didn't recognize them so I went down curiously as my mother opened the door to this person.

They stood tall, the skinny body wrapped up with things. he wore tight black jeans, a green button-down that was open a little, to reveal some of his bare skinny chest with some golden chains against his skin, a long leather jacket a speckling of facial hair, a messy mop of blonde hair hidden by a cowboy hat,

"Why Hello Mrs Y/l/N" He smiled

"Uhh Hello, I'm sorry who are you?" she asked I couldn't help the feeling I had seen this man before

"Ohh pardon me Madam, Benny Watts. I don't suppose you remember me?"

BENNY! What the hell happened to him! he was a skinny little babyfaced nerd boy when I last saw him, he said he had to go on trips and didn't know when he'd be home but that was over a year ago, I was starting to wonder if he'd ever come back but clearly.. he had and he's uhh grown up.

"Benny Watts? I thought I told you-" she began

"Benny? is that really you?" I asked looking at him so intently he saw me as my mother moved slightly from the doorway he looked as shocked to see me as I did to see him

"Hey Babydoll..." He smiled

"My goodness what... on earth happened to you?" I asked going over slightly and he stepped in smiling at me

"I Grew up" he shrugs "I had a lot of time... to think"

"To think about what?" I asked

"Priorities" he smiled "Now, It's Sunday and I know six O'clock is still dinner time" he smiled fixing my hair for me I looked at him a little confused and he shrugged "it's about time I meet your family" before he went to the coat rack taking off his jacket and hat

"well Uhh dinner will be a while" my mother added

"No worries, We'll go upstairs and catch up won't we babydoll?" he smirked and I nodded grabbing his hand and dragging him up with me to my room "you did grow up didn't you" he smirked shutting my bedroom door behind him

"What the hell happened to you?" I asked

"Hey, Naughty girly no swearing," he says putting his finger on my lips "I should slap the back of your legs you naughty little thing" he smirked

"Benny, I'm serious! what happened to you? why didn't you come to see me? I... I started to think you never wanted to see me again"

"Ohh no babydoll never, it's just... while I was away I thought about us. about everything I grew up, I'm not your cute little nerdy boy anymore babydoll,"

"I noticed" I blushed

"I thought you would" he smirked "I just had a lot of time to think, about you, about me, about...us. it ate me alive that, I didn't speak up the night they took you away from me, I should have stood up for you I should never have let them take you from me. So I grew up, Matured so I could come back here, walk-in and get you back"

"Aww benny, You never lost me, I was waiting for you"

"Well, now I'm a man I hope... good enough for you babydoll"

"Ohh benny, you always were" I smiled hugging him closely I tugged him along to my bed and he smirked a little

"Been a while since I was here" he smirked "it feels like forever ago"

"It does, it hasn't been that long I guess but... it feels longer given how much we've changed" I smiled

"I missed you"

"I missed you too" I smiled intertwining my fingers with his own

"Last time I was here I kissed you" he smirked watching my eyes with those golden brown orbs

"You did" I smiled blushing rather hard

"Could I... Again?" I blushed hard at the thought, I had been replaying that kiss in my mind every day since that night I wasn't sure I mean it had been so long and he had changed so much but I couldn't deny my thoughts from that night came flooding back to me. No matter how much he matured, how much he changed, he was still benny. and I still wanted him. I nodded squeezing on his hand he glanced up and down my body a moment his tongue gently licking across his bottom lip as he did he stared longingly at my lips before he jumped forward kissing me, he felt like I remembered but he tasted like coffee and dust, his hair tickled me and poked me but I had to admit I didn't dislike it, I kissed back as quickly as I could soon enough our kiss returned to the open mouth snog we had had so long ago. his hands moved to hold either side of my waist firmly his fingertips grasping at me wildly I moved my own desperately to his neck gently playing with his hair as I did "Ummm fuck!" he groaned between kisses hardly pulling away to speak tugging my waist and my hips closer to him I moaned in shock overwhelmed with excitement as he pushed on me so I laid flat on my back on my bed his arms the only thing keeping me even a little up from the bed as they wrapped around my waist and he laid down on top of me kneeling himself between my legs "Ummmm babydoll!" he groans pulling me back to kissing him I held him as close as I could never wanting to let him go again, I didn't care about my parents, I didn't care about anything, My benny was back and that's all I cared about, he really was a man now and I was happy to do anything he wanted me too and he began moving a little I wasn't sure why, I don't know if he was trying to push me deeper into the bed, or maybe get more ontop of me I wasn't sure all I knew was he was moving ontop of me and something of his rubbed against something of mine grinding against me like he was trying to hump me or have sex with me

"Uhh benny!" I said in shock

"Ummm fuck! I've waited so long my beautiful girl..." He gasped as he pulled away sitting up over my hips "I can't wait any longer" he smirked moving his hands back to himself and in some strange way of magic I wasn't sure how exactly he undid the rest of the buttons on his shirt revealing the rest of his chest to me and I could have fainted but he captured my lips against forcefully holding me as close to him as he could and I held him as close to me as I could too but as we where moving lost in our passion I suddenly felt gravity as we both fell in a mad mess onto my bedroom floor giggling like crazy and my bedroom door opened

"What on earth was that!" My father yelled

I felt like I was having a heart attack as I saw my father stood at the foot of my bed holding the metal curves in his suit with his hair done I could see in his face he was not happy. But to be fair he did just walk in on us. My hair a little messy  from the hot and heavy kissing and from being laid on my bed, My dress up around my stomach from the fall but it did rather look like benny had done it to me, on my bedroom floor with benny laid over me his shirt open and an obvious erection, benny sat up in shock and I pushed down my dress as quick as I could

"Uhhh Hi daddy" I smiled

"What the hell is going on here!" He yelled

"Ahh Mr Y/l/N Pleasure to meet you, Benny watts. Us chess champion, once banished from your house currently making out with your daughter" Benny smiled getting up leaning on my bed and offering his hand to my father. My father looked at him carefully but shook his hand as I got up

"I remember you"

"I figured you would" Benny smirked

"Ohio If I'm not mistaken," he says and I was a little confused "The last time?"

"Yes sir it was," Benny answered

"Dinner's in five minutes" He says before he left my room

"That worked?" I asked very confusedly

"You'd be surprised how far confidence goes babydoll" benny smirked pulling me by my waist into his chest "Now... where were we?" He smirked trying to kiss me

"what did he mean by Ohio?" I asked

"where he saw me last, come on babydoll" he answered grabbing my arse and trying to kiss me

"Saw you? Benny, what are you talking about?" I asked putting a hand on his chest and gently moving away even if I loved the feeling of his skin on my hand

"He was the visiting master before we started I saw him and spoke to him as I usually do whenever I see him"

"You talk to my father?"

"Course I do, Normally about you babydoll and when he'll let me see you again" He explained, "He didn't tell you?"

"My father barely tells me anything"

"Well you can get him to explain it all at dinner" he smiled kissing my temple "Now, let's get down to dinner so we can get back up here before it gets too late, I wanna make sure they're awake so they hear us"

"Hear us?"

"When we... made your bed creak and bounce babydoll, Come on they kept us apart for so long they missed all our teenage snuggles up here, Your bed pounding the wall, your bed creaking, my pretty little babydoll screaming for me so I’m gonna make them listen to all of it tonight, " He whispered and I blushed hard "Come on" he smirked putting his arm around me and his hand on my waist as he tugged me downstairs...