#or they perfectly know and are rubbing their hands while laughing like a madman

[aurorxaeternitatis]

Me, whenever I'm discussing plots involving Domínico, Kafka or Nikolai:

[the-and-sign-anon]

The Third Independent: 3

Word count: 2,240

Series Masterlist

Thirteen Years Post-Fall

“Vash, come on!”

You ran across the dunes, your feet leaving the ground intermittently with the help of the Worms. Vash was close behind with a shining smile on his face as he chased you down. 

“I can’t keep up when you do that!”

“That sounds like an excuse to me!”

Vash narrowed his eyes in determination and forced another burst of speed, picking up to match your pace and meet your eyes. You looked so happy in the evening sunlight, your green coat flapping in the wind around you. Too bad he’d have to stop you. Before you understood the change in his smile, he tackled you, sending you both tumbling sideways and rolling down a dune. 

You finally stopped a few feet from the front doors of Home. Both your chests were heaving, wild laughter ringing through the air. Brad said Vash always laughed like a madman, but he just backed away when you joined him for the first time with a borderline sinister cackle to match. Your teeth flashed in the fading light, a little sharper than they should be but entirely normal to the two of you. 

Vash sat up, his knees on either side of your hips as he caught his breath. You heaved a sigh to calm your heart, allowing yourself the time to admire Vash. 

He’d just gotten his hands on a pair of orange tinted glasses, which Luida insisted he start wearing when he realized his eyes weren’t quite as strong as he wished they were. If he was supposed to go out adventuring, she wouldn’t let him do so with blurry vision. 

The lenses turned his eyes from a mesmerizing light blue to a darker, deeper shade that drew you in every time you let yourself look for too long. His hair was shaggy now, a few weeks overdue for a trim. But he’d grown into his coat. It fit perfectly now, and was as vibrant as ever. You doubted you’d ever be able to see red without thinking of him again. 

When his breathing evened out, the door slid open and a gruff voice called out. You felt a flash of irritation at having been forced to stop admiring Vash, but it had happened now. No going back.

“You two. Quit playing with the bugs and get in here.”

Vash hopped up and held out a hand to pull you to your feet. He flashed Brad a well meaning grin and rubbed at the back of his neck in embarrassment. 

“Sorry, Brad. We’ll be right in.”

He rolled his eyes and disappeared, leaving the door open for you. 

“Dad’s in a mood.”

You both broke into laughter again as Vash pushed your shoulder.

“You know he hates when you call him that.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

The hallways were quiet, with many of the crew of Home heading into cold sleep. Luida and Brad had been discussing it for months. Vash wanted to get moving, to find and protect as many Plants as he could. To track down and stop his brother somehow. You wanted to join him, but he insisted Home needed your protection too, at least for now. Especially to accomplish what Luida intended with the flora. It would take centuries most likely, so you needed to keep the whole place safe in the meantime. 

Luida had put together a special evening for the four of you. She and Brad would be going into cold sleep as well soon, but Vash was about to leave and she wanted to enjoy one last meal together. You offered to set the table while Brad finished preparing the food. Vash slipped off his coat and set it on a hook by the door, helping you get yours off too before you grabbed the silverware. 

The dinner was nice. Despite knowing the reason for it, none of you allowed it to be awkward or quiet. Vash laid out his plans, which towns he wanted to stop by first. You listened intently as you tried to commit his voice to memory. You weren’t sure how long it would be before he could come back, so you didn’t want to let anything fade in the time between. 

You spent the whole evening like that, studying every little thing about the way he moved and spoke. How he cut up his food, how he never chewed with his mouth open. The way his eyes set on each person when they spoke, never letting anyone think he wasn’t listening closely. Your favorite thing was how he chuckled. The sound of it, the crinkle of his eyes and raise of his shoulders. 

When dinner was finished and the table was cleared, you bid Brad and Luida goodnight and watched as he went to his room. You and Vash went down the hall to your rooms as well, your hands intertwined between you. He didn’t hesitate for even a breath to follow you into your room. Your nest had grown over the last few years as you gathered old blankets and worn clothing from wrecks and Plant facilities you visited. It took up as much space as the bed now, which still saw use only from Vash. 

“It’ll be weird here without you, you know.”

“It’ll be weird with everyone else asleep, too.”

“Yeah. But you’re the biggest change.”

Vash pulled you into a loose hug, always allowing you the chance to pull away. You just tugged him closer, your arms tightening around him as your eyes slipped closed. 

You’d never been apart from each other for long since he lost his arm. In the last eight years, you’d always accompanied him wherever he went. On missions, to meals despite your lack of appetite, even to simple walks outside in the cool night air. 

After a minute, you stepped back and fiddled with your nest. It was big enough now, and he was leaving anyway, so you took a chance to ask something you’d been thinking about for a long time. 

“Do you want to try my nest tonight?” Your voice was softer and less sure than Vash had ever heard it. “Just to try… since you’re leaving tomorrow.”

Vash didn’t say a word; he didn’t need to. He just unfolded his coat in his arms and tucked it into the nest on one side, then motioned for yours and did the same on the other. 

He’d do anything to keep seeing the smile that crossed your face when he looked back at you. You turned off the lights while he slipped off his glasses and set them on the bedside table. Then you climbed in and showed him how to do the same. It took some shuffling and a bit of rearranging, but you found yourselves tangled together with your faces a breath apart. 

A part of Vash wondered how it had taken ten years to do this. Your nest was so warm and comfortable, far better than the beds had ever been. Despite the pitch darkness in the room, you could both still see some. It was mostly outlines, but that was enough for Vash. 

He watched how your eyes seemed to trace the silhouette of his face. How your hair was pushed back from your face. How your hand came up to rest on his cheek. He could feel your breath across his face and if he moved forward even the tiniest bit, he could feel your noses touch. 

“I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too. But I’ll think of you all the time.”

“Yeah?”

He might have been imagining it, but he was sure there was a challenge in your soft tone. 

“Absolutely. Every time I see a Worm. Whenever a toma tries to snap at me. I’ll see you in every sunset and hear you in the wind at night. I don’t think a single day could pass without you crossing my mind.”

It felt like a leap of faith to talk this way. Anything could happen out in Noman’s Land. Anything could happen here at Home. Everything could happen in the time between now and the day he came back to you. Feelings could change too.

“The towns are few and far between, you know. Lots of time without anyone to talk to. I’ll sing for you every night. The Worms will too, so you’re never alone.”

“I’d like that.”

You tucked your head down to nestle into Vash’s shoulder and he felt your arms wrap around him once more. It wouldn’t be like this again for a long time. He’d have to make the most of it. Once he gathered all the courage he could manage, he tilted his head down to rest his lips at your ear. 

“I love you, Y/N.”

You let out a tiny little snore and Vash’s heart seized with affection. Your sounds of sleep lulled him into his own rest and neither of you moved for hours. 

When morning came and the automatic lights slowly turned on, Vash blinked awake. You were still asleep, your face buried in his chest and legs tangled in his. You were as peaceful as he’d ever seen you and, considering he was about to leave, he gave himself a few extra minutes to admire you. 

Eventually, you stirred lightly and Vash carefully nudged your shoulder. 

“Hey. Y/N. We need to get up.”

“...mmhnngh…”

“Y/N.”

You rolled onto your back with your eyes still closed, but he could tell you were waking up. 

“Mayfly, I really have to get up. Are you going to see me off, or stay hidden in your nest?”

You growled softly and flopped a hand onto his face. 

“Noooo…..”

Your eyes slowly blinked open one at a time. Vash watched you sit up a bit, then stretch. Your limbs popped a few too many times before you settled into a proper sitting position. 

“You called me Mayfly.”

Vash’s confidence immediately dissipated and he ran a hand over the back of his neck again. 

“I, uh… I guess I did.”

You gave a lazy, too wide smile and stood up. 

“I like it.” You patted his head and shook your coats free from the soft pile before walking towards the door. “Come on. I’m giving you a haircut before you leave. You look like a poorly groomed toma.”

Vash gave an indignant whine, but followed you to the bathroom regardless. He did his best to hold still as you cut, fighting back memories of the time Rem tried to give the twins haircuts. Nai hated it and Vash was too fidgety, so there was only ever one attempt. Once he was cleaned up, you caught up with Luida and Brad to say final goodbyes. 

Luida straightened out Vash’s coat and gave him her best, most encouraging smile. 

“I’m so proud of you, Vash. You’re going to do so much good for this planet.”

He gave her a tight hug, closing his eyes for a moment to reflect on all the care, support, and trust she’d given him over the last ten years. Brad stepped up next while you kept the toma relaxed, loaded up with enough supplies to last him a few weeks at least. 

“Don’t get killed, kid. And don’t break that arm, it’s not easy to repair it yourself and I don’t want to get dragged out of cold sleep just ‘cause you did something stupid.”

Vash clapped a hand on his shoulder and grinned wide enough to show off his sharp teeth. 

“I’ll miss you too, Brad.”

The man brushed off the gesture and pulled him into a quick half-hug, letting go before you or Luida could make a big deal of it. Your favorite humans stepped back to the door while you approached one last time. 

Like Luida, you fussed over him a little, nudging his glasses back up his nose and fidgeting with his freshly cut hair.

“Mayfly, it’s okay.” He chuckled and brushed your hand away. “I’ll be fine out there. I’ll make lots of friends. And I’ll keep coming back to you.”

“You’d better. These humans are alright, but they’ve got nothing on you.”

Your lines glowed bright, more so than he’d seen before, and his soon did the same. His eyes closed once more as he pressed his forehead to yours, your song weighing on his chest as if physically settling into his heart. 

“Stay safe, Scruffy.”

“Please don’t let that name stick.”

Your laugh was full, but laced with sadness as you stepped away to look at him one more time. If you put it off any longer, you weren’t sure you could actually let him go. 

Vash seemed to understand and took a step toward the toma. You took turns stepping away until your hands were stretched across the space between you and your fingertips slipped apart. He finally turned around to mount the toma and you dug your feet into the sand to keep yourself from running after him. 

You watched in the early morning light as he rode away into the distance. A handful of Worms followed him for a time, until he was out of your sight. Luida gently took your hand and ushered you back inside.  

He wouldn’t be gone forever. Just a little while. Even if it took a year, or more, what was so little time in the face of a Plant? Of an Independent?

[eddies-perm]

𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩

𝘦𝘥𝘥��𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

eddie loves seeing himself deep inside you. that is all I have to say.

warnings. smut!!, P in V, barebacking, size kink, creampie, vaginal fingering, no use of y/n.

word count: 846

** eddie discovers just how much he loves being buried deep inside you. **

“C’mere,” he growls playfully, grabbing you by your ankles and yanking you down the bed. “Get that pretty little pussy over here, baby.”

You giggle softly, watching him take off his pants. He’s already hard, erection pressing against the black denim of his jeans. With a small smirk, Eddie pushes his pants down and steps up to the edge of the bed, nudging his head through your folds.

He’s pleased to find that you’re already soaking wet.

“Holy shit baby,” he hums, starting to rub your clit with his tip. “You’re so wet and I haven’t even touched you yet. You’re that excited, hm?”

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip. “What can I say? I like your dick.”

“Gee thanks,” Eddie laughs, shaking his head. “My personality is just secondary, I guess.”

“Oh, stop,” you give him a little kick, chuckling and rolling your eyes. “You know I love everything about you.”

He grins, leaning down to kiss you.  “I know, I just like messing with you.”

The underside of his shaft drags along your folds and he grunts softly, slowly rolling his hips. You whine softly, chewing your lip as your hips gradually begin to roll in time with his, letting you both get more friction.

“Mmm, I think you’re ready,” he says after a minute or two. “You ready to take my cock?”

“I’m always ready.”

And with that, he’s lining up and pressing in, entering you with one swift motion. He groans, looking down at where your bodies are now joined, finding himself somewhat mesmerized at the sight of his shaft stretching you open.

He starts thrusting, eyes darting between your face and your entrance, chewing the inside of his cheek as he fucks you a little harder. God, the way his cock looks slipping in and out of your wet pussy...fuck, is there a better sight?

“Oh my god, look at you, taking m-my dick so well,” he breathes, leaning back a bit so he can have a better view of your entrance. “P-Pretty baby, s-such a good girl for me.”

You moan softly, body bouncing with each of his thrusts. He fills you up so well and stretches you out just enough to be pleasurable. He’s perfect, perfectly tailored to fit snugly inside you, it feels like. 

“Shit, Eds -- mmmm -- love your cock,” you hum, back arching. “It’s so good, baby, s-so fucking good...”

Eddie grunts, letting out sharp breaths, moving his hips a bit faster. It’s then that he notices that, with each thrust of his hips, a bit of a bulge appears on your lower stomach. He full-on moans at the realization that that’s his cock fucking in and out of you.

“Fffuck baby, fuck, I can see my d-dick inside you, can see it fucking you. Mmm, pussy’s so fuckin’ small, I can barely fffit inside you with my big cock...”

His hand presses down on your lower abdomen, wanting to see if he could feel each of his thrusts. When he feels it, his shaft inside of you, he’s suddenly right on the edge of his orgasm, grunting and groaning and moaning like a madman.

“Mmm, Eds...”

Suddenly, he’s bending down with your legs on his shoulders, pounding you into the mattress. You cry out in pleasure, jaw slacked as whimpers and gasps spill from your lips.

“E-Eddie!”

“Gonna cum.”  He moans, eyebrows knitting. “Gonna put it so deep inside y-you...will you keep it all in for me, baby? You gonna keep all my cum in your little cunt?”

You nod quickly, nails digging into his back. “Yes, baby, y-yes!”

It takes only moments before his hips come to a halt and warm cum paints your insides, filling you up to the brim. Eddie grunts softly and leans down to kiss you while riding out the remainder of his high.

As soon as he’s done, he’s on his knees between your legs, fingers quickly scooping the leaking cum from your entrance. He pushes it back in with two fingers, fucking the creamy seed up into you again.

Your hips jump, a surprised and pleasured gasp slipping past your lips. 

“There we go, there’s my girl,” he hums, smirking up at you as he fingers you, fingers curling up to find your pleasure spot. “Keep all that in for me, yeah?”

You’re so caught up in pleasure that all you can do is babble, so close to your orgasm that you can practically taste it. And as soon as his tongue swipes across your clit, you’re done for.

With a cry of his name, followed by a string of swears, you fall apart. Your climax hits with great intensity and your hips buck and jerk against his fingers. He hums, taking you through your orgasm before pulling away and kissing up your body until he reaches your lips.

You smile against his lips, weaving a hand in his hair as the two of you share a deep kiss, simply enjoying each other’s embrace for a little while before dozing off, still entangled in each other.

~ masterlist ~

[anntidote]

: ♡ work up a sweat - ushijima wakatoshi

— “there are other ways to work up a sweat, love.”

pairing: post-timeskip!ushijima wakatoshi x fem!reader

warnings: smut, pwp, clothing destruction, penetration, stretching(?), SIZE KINK, fat cock !!!, unprotected sex but his pull out game is STRONG

summary: working out in the living room didn’t really work out... but how else are you supposed to stay fit during quarantine? well— your boyfriend has an idea or two.

a/n: this is for you ushijima fuckers!!! i got so many requests for him, and as you all know- your wish is my command! ♡ happy holidays, everyone!

“i think you’re doing it wrong.”

sitting up against the pale gray of the yoga mat, you lock eyes with the tall figure, leaned against the door frame, and arms crossed with his lips pressed into a thin line.

“toshi? i thought you had practice today.” you raised an eyebrow at him.

he shook his head in response before pushing off the wall, and moving into the adjacent kitchen, getting out one of the matching couple mugs you’d bought ironically; pouring himself a cup of water. “iwaizumi cancelled practice. cases are up.”

you hum, turning your attention back to the flashing television screen, and how the woman demonstrates the next move.

“we’re going to shift our weight to the left, like this... and arch our back to feel that stretch! it’s that easy.”

unconsciously following along, you don’t seem to notice how your boyfriend’s eyes scan over your figure with utter adoration. how he turns any flaw into your greatest strength, and how he loves every single thing about you.

he recalls nights where he catches your eyes zeroing in on your insecurities, and how he’d silently hug you from behind. wishing his words would be reassuring enough for you to disregard those types thoughts, and to simply focus on how beautiful he finds you.

and to be honest, ushijima thinks it’s a pity that you can’t recognize this fact.

“alright, now to the right! remember to arch your back, and feel that burn!”

the faux encouragement of the spokesperson snaps him out of his thoughts, as he hears a shift in the hardwood floors- and he almost snorts.

“did you stretch before this?” he asks, moving towards you and placing his cup on the nearby coffee table.

missing the way his eyebrow is amusedly cocked to the side, you huff out a sigh. “no. why?” and you close your eyes, beginning to mentally count the seconds that seemed to go by too slowly.

one.

perhaps it’s the shade of grey that sets him off. how you angle yourself perfectly. your ass perked high up in the air, spread out almost like a buffet. how those yoga pants seem to hug you so well.

two.

maybe how the sweat at your brow makes it a little bit more difficult for him to stay sane. the heavy heaves of your chest, and the bite of your lower lip in concentration.

“okay! one more time! to the left!”

you cringe at the cheeriness, beginning to shift your body once more before feeling a hand on your behind, making you pause.

“toshi?”

“you need to lift yourself a bit higher.”

you don’t see him from this position, and it’s quite of unfortunate, as he’s that close to snapping.

but that advice was definitely not to help you- and a tad of guilt eats at him when you hum out a ‘thanks’ before adjusting your position from right to left. definitely missing how ushijima locked eyes on you, and where he-

“oh shit!”

his eyes widen as you stumble, falling back a bit when your trip over your own feet. catching yourself, your ass pressing against the semi-hard on in his sweats. and for that very brief moment-

fuck it.

the loud rip of fabric tearing resounds through your shared apartment, along with your surprised gasp. your head snapping back towards your boyfriend in utter shock.

“toshi-!! did you just-!?”

did he just rip your yoga pants?

he disregards your shock completely when he takes one of your cheeks in each hand. spreading you apart, pressing his clothed length to your center.

“babe- i-“ your brain goes a million miles per second, trying to understand what’s going on.

“there are other ways to work up a sweat, love.”

and your brain works for naught. beginning to fuzz like static when your hole catches on the the fabric hanging loosely on his hips. the exposure sending heat hurling down between your legs.

“ahh...” the moan falls from your mouth so easily. 

it doesn’t even register to ushijima that you’re not wearing underwear— all he can focus on is the sputter of your cunt against him. how you’re already drooling with every brush of your hips, creating a dark mark in the joggers he’s sporting.

“toshi... please...” your voice barely makes it to his ears when you reach back towards him. how your spine is bent, mouth open and eyes pleading for solely him and just him.

it’s all too sudden when he shoves his pants down to his knees and lines the head of his cock to your weeping folds. and it grows even harder for him when you hiss at just the tip, the stretch always thrumming through your body when you take him.

he mumbles incoherent praises at how great you’re doing. how well you’re taking him, and how perfect you are. you already know these things, but that doesn’t seem to stop the fact you hold onto his cock like a vice, and the rose of your cheeks always prove otherwise as you continue to sink down. the slick of your pussy bottoming out with a combine groan from both of you.

you keen, nails digging into the yoga mat as you try to support yourself. and when you finally give him an affirmative nod- it’s as if the world is a blur.

the snap of his hips, and the slap of his balls against your clit has you reeling. the pace of his thrusts are impatient- but it’s so hard to get shit wrong with a cock like his.

thick and fat. a cock that made you drool at first sight, and curves so perfectly- you sometimes swear your bodies were molded for each other. it’s like he splits you in two in the best way possible. almost rearranging your body just how he likes it.

how each rub against your anterior wall seems to send sparks into your vision. you moan a melody into ushijima’s ears, as the pound of your ass is absolutely mesmerizing.

“hnng... t-toshi- i-“

and the visual is lewd when you turn over. your mouth dropping into a pant, and how you look absolutely sinful. pressing your legs up to your chest, and the way your hole sputters slick. and you almost laugh at how ushijima pushes your sports bra up your chest, immediately pinching at your sensitive bud- electricity rushing through you.

and it’s totally unfair how he sets your body on fire while looking that good. the caramel brown of his neck, grip on your thighs- sure to leave bruises, and how his pupils zero in on where you’re connected.

but it’s when he’s himself.

reaching up in the midst of pounding your ass into oblivion. the small caress of your cheek that makes your heart swell, and when he swipes the stray tear that falls from the corner of your eye.

a silent confession that sends you hurling into a blistering heat, vision speckling in white, and making your insides coiling up, and snapping like a glow stick.

“toshi- i can’t— fuck—!” you cry out, creaming his cock in milky white.

your toes curl, and it’s absolute hell and heaven for ushijima. your cunt milks him like a vice, skin slapping that ricochet off the walls, and the whimpers of his name that fall so prettily from your pouting lips.

“shit- you’re so fucking good to me...”

he snaps. setting the pace of his thrusts like a madman. your high, pulling into overstimulation- your nose scrunching and nails digging into his shoulders.

“fuuuck, baby...” eyes crossing and feeling the swell of his cock kiss your cervix. your needy pleads getting into his head, and the clench of your cunt around him. the shocks making your body convulse, as you sit there and simply take it.

it’s you that overwhelms him. the scent, sounds, and blistering heat that makes him lose it. pulling out at painting those god-fucking-sinful yoga pants in his cum- ropes and ropes, even as your pussy dribbles it’s drool onto the mat.

and only then do you feel like you can breathe. heaving and panting, pecking a kiss onto your boyfriend’s lips before collapsing.

“w-what was that all about?” you huff out, barely catching your breath in contrast to the athlete to your right.

and it’s his silence that makes you smile from ear to ear. the flush of his cheeks as he mumbles something along the lines of ‘those yoga pants’ and how pretty you always look. 

but it’s all fine as you both seem to enjoy your time on the floor.

where the rest of your clothes end up later.

[kiwibirbs-library]

Walking In

a/n: lol not me realizing after i finished that all the songs are by the same people and are kinda old but whatever. theyre cool still prove me wrong

prompt: they come back and find you jamming in they’re dorm

characters: todoroki x fem!reader, midoria x fem!reader, kirishima x fem!reader

warning: none really, fluff, our boys being literal sweetie pies

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

 Shoto Todoroki

- ugh hes so hot good lord

- ok so anyways, Shoto was just getting back from internships ok

- he had just had to listen to his father for a whole week with little to no complaint and to say he was dead is an understatement

- all he really wanted to do was see you and sleep and cuddle but ya know

- so what does he do when he gets out of the building?

- immediately texts you to wait for him in his dorm when you get back

- thats what he does

- you had your own internships but they were a closer and you would probably get back before him so you saw it and were like

- um

-YES

- so you get back and change, heading to Shoto’s room

- ready for some premium cuddles

- he had told you it was gunna take a while so you pull out your phone to play some music 

~~~~

Shoto had every intention of getting back to his dorm, grabbing you, and passing out for the next few days. Between his fathers orders, the constant villains, and barely being able to talk to you this past week, he was so done. He came into the dorms, a few people waving to him. He would nod back, but no one really had the energy for anything. Well minus a couple of the girls chatting away and Sero, the hero himself, keeping Mineta away from them.

Dragging himself up the stairs he was surprised to hear music coming from the floor. Everyone on his level seemed to be downstairs. As he got closer to his room he came to the realization that it was coming from his room. And the soft music had switched to a more upbeat tune. As he walked in the music got louder as it blasted its way throughout the room. He was about to question it when his eyes landed on you.

You. His beautiful girlfriend. A girl now dancing like a madman while singing/laughing the lyrics.

“Rock my world into the sunlight’- laughing- ‘make this dream the best I’ve ever known!” you were spinning around, laughing at how bad you were saying the words. Shoto just stared.

‘How did I manage to find someone like this.’ ‘How did you find me.’ ‘I don’t care what happens anymore as long as you’re happy.’ ‘I’m going to to marry this girl.’ Thoughts went wild through his head as he say you jump around his room.

Thats when you turned around to find him at the door. He had a small smile on his face and pure adoration in his eyes as he watched you. You could feel your face warm, blaming it on all the movement. You went to your phone and paused the song, going over to Shoto. You wrapped your arms around him, peeking up at him from his chest.

“Hi,” you said sweetly.

“Can you do that again?” he asked, hugging you back and meeting your gaze.

“What?” he pulled you to his side, leaning over and grabbing your phone off the side table. Hitting play, he looked at you and smiled. Laughing you grabbed his hands, walking backwards and swaying your hips.

Ya, he could get used to this

~~~~

Izuku Midoriya

- IZUUU BB

- it was the weekend and everyone was chilling in the commens, cooling down from a grueling week.

- Izuku of course was training out front a little before bed

- you went out to get him so yall could go up together but he told you he would meet you up there with a little nose kiss

- UGH THIS MAN I LOVE HIM

- and so as you waited you thought to play some music to pass the time

~~~~

Izuku stretched as he got back inside the the dorm building. There were still quite a few people downstairs even for the closely approaching curfew, all chatting away while they could. Izuku didn’t stay for long though, quickly heading up the stairs to meet you in your room. 

He could hear faint music playing down the hall and immediately knew it was yours. I mean come on you know this man has memorized your playlist to a T to show off to you. He happily jogged up to your door and went inside. He did think about knocking, but judging from how load the music was with it closed, he knew you wouldn’t hear it. When he stepped in he found you spinning around and singing the lyrics perfectly. He always loved watching you when you got into a song. 

The song in question however made him blush. You moved your arms and waist to the beat, singing to your hearts content.

“all that you got, skin on skin, oh my god, don’t just stop, boy,” you hummed out the instrumental basically burst out with the main chorus. “ Something bout youu.”

All Izuku do was watch until you noticed him walk in. You quickly pause the music and went up to him.

“hey sorry you should have said you were here,” you rubbed the back of your neck.

“I-I-I uhmm tha-that was r-really uhhh wow I-” he was red and stuttering at all of it. Has he been dating you for almost half a year now, yes. Was he still flustered as frick if you did literally anything, also yes. You laughed, reaching up to ruffle his hair.

“thank you for the complement Izu, but I now am in need of my cuddles I was promised,” you said, yanking him as you flopped onto your sheets. His face was still extremely red but he smiled.

“anything for you puppy.”

~~~~

Enjiro Kirishima

- once again OH MY GOD I LOVE HIM

- anyways he was training with Bakugou all weekend and both of you were in need of some together time

- i mean you had texted him that you wanted a hug a little bit ago 

- but he didn’t even warn you before he came

- literally you were just hanging in your room jamming and he just barged in for you but same difference

~~~~

He could hear the music playing the minute he got to your floor and knew it was you. He had heard the song so many times on your playlist and not to mention everyone on your floor was down stairs. He smiled to himself and sped walk to your room.

He quickly turned the knob and slid in, smiling and watching the sight in front of him. He had walked in on your jam sessions so many times before but it never got old, watching the way you smiled and moved as if it was the only thing that would ever matter. You swung your hips around as you mouthed out the words the girl sung. His smile grew, here came the best part.

You hopped up on a chair during a short pause in the song, then started busting out rapping, never missing a word or a beat.

“its mys moscato, its friss in a bottle, its nicki full throttle, its oh oh~” you swayed along with the beat, hopping off the chair and sliding around your room. You turned around, jumping slightly when you saw your boyfriend at the door. You paused your music, walking up to him. “god babe you almost gave me a heart attack. Warn me a little next time,” you laughed a little.

“sorry I just wanted to see you during that section,” he said sweetly, wrapped his arms around your waist. You rolled your eyes as you ruffled his hair. 

“you just wanted to look at my ass,” you laughed. He put a hand on his heart and flopped down onto you dramatically. 

“oh y/n, how could you think so low of me,” he sniffled sarcastically. You laughed as he put more weight onto you. 

“E I’m gunna fall,” you whined with fake effort. He laughed into your shoulder, shuffled to push you towards your bed.

“good I came for cuddles anyways. Very manly,” he mumbled as you two fell over.

~~~~

songs: todoroki- domino by jessie j

            midoriya- dangerous woman by ariana grande

            kirishima- bang bang by jessie j, ariana grande, and nicki minaj

[willgrahymn]

Two Love

I’m not gonna lie, this is probably some of the gayest shit I’ve ever written.

Summary: In the silence of the night, it feels like there's nothing but them. Loving oneself is not an easy task, and loving another takes work. If we can't love ourselves now though, we can at least love each other. Maybe then we will realize our own worth. Virgil and Roman know this well.

Word count: 2019

Tags: romantic prinxiety, (domestic) fluff, light angst, human au, living together, non-sexual intimacy, cuddling, communication, and marriage proposal ✨

As always, I’ll reblog with a link to this on ao3 :]!

-

“I wish you knew how lovable you are,” Virgil whispered into the silence.

Roman didn’t respond, biting his lower lip and not once opening his eyes. Virgil frowned, lightly tracing the tattoos on the other man’s chest, stopping to place his palm against the beating of his heart.

The room was quiet besides the sound of the heat coming through the vents and the occasional car passing by outside. Virgil sighed, laying his head against his love. He was warm, too, and he wished he never had to get out of bed again. It wasn’t like the way he wished during a depressive episode though. This was different; it was cozier, and more like home. He closed his eyes as he felt a hand begin to play with the hair at the base of his neck, and made a mental note to trim it later.

“I love you,” he mumbled, his lips ghosting against his boyfriend’s skin. He thought watching the rise and fall of his stomach, breathing in and out, was what made him want to say it.

“I know you do,” Roman responded, and Virgil could hear the tired smile in his voice, “I love you too. You’re perfect.”

“I’m anything but.”

“Then you’re perfect for me.”

Virgil decided he was happy to settle for that.

Roman continued to play with the dark strands before kissing the long magenta bangs that normally covered his boyfriend’s eyes. And he smiled because his hair smelled like the same raspberry-scented shampoo that he washed his hair with not long ago. If there was anything Roman believed he could do well, it was making his boyfriend feel cared for. He deserved it, and the way Virgil always leaned into his touch like a cat receiving ear scratches whenever he rubbed the shampoo into his scalp was something he simply couldn’t pass up when the opportunity arose.

He was beautiful now in Roman’s arms, and he would be beautiful when he woke up in the morning with his hair messed up going every which way. He would be beautiful when black makeup stained his face in tear tracks and he asked Roman if they could go home after a failed night out. There would not be a time when he was not beautiful, because he never gave Roman a reason to see him as anything less than that. He was a work of art. Frayed at the edges, sure, but he remained invaluable nonetheless.

Blinking slowly, Roman watched as his love shifted to meet his gaze. Dark eyes shining in the moonlight that seeped in through their window blinds. They were as gorgeous as the rest of him, he thought.

“What is it, my Night Light?”

“Oh, nothing,” he smirked, “I was just admiring.”

Roman rolled his eyes, a mix of fondness and instinctual doubt settling in his gut. “You see me every day, you’ll tire of me eventually.” He tried.

“We already went through the phase of being sick of each other when we first met, you’re not getting rid of me now.” Virgil teased, and before Roman could think of something else to say to distract from his statement, he started to speak again softer this time. “I meant what I said earlier, about how you’re so much more lovable than you know. I care about you.”

Virgil took a deep breath. He didn’t consider himself good at this sort of thing, but the weight of Roman’s fingers lacing between his own and pulling him closer was reassurance enough.

“I love you, Roman, and I… I just hope that one day, you’ll fall in love with yourself in the same way I did. You deserve to feel like you’re worth it.”

Roman stared at him, his mouth barely open as he replayed the words in his head. He knew Virgil, knew that he was always more on the pessimistic side, and didn’t try to get his hopes up about things to come. Still, he hoped for him. A hand rested against his cheek, thumb brushing lightly against his lips. Virgil smiled, and his heart felt full.

“Thank you,” he said. “I hope that one day you’ll wake up and face yourself in the mirror, and be able to value yourself as much as I do. It’s only fair.”

He took his partner’s hand, kissing his palm. Even in the darkness of their room, he could still see Virgil’s eyes go wide before hiding his face against his chest. It was cute, but he could tease him about that later. For now, though, he just felt lucky that he was allowed to see him like this. No walls up, and no fake dark persona to make sure others would leave him alone. He was just honest, authentic Virgil, and that was all that Roman wanted.

“I could spend a thousand lifetimes with you and it still wouldn’t be enough.” He admitted. “I would relive all the bad days where we didn’t get along, all the bad days where we doubted ourselves, as long as I knew it would bring me back here just like this with you.”

Virgil stared at him, curious and adoring. “You’re a madman.”

“Nothing compared to my brother,” Roman laughed, “but I guess you might be right. If I didn’t think straight before I certainly don’t now.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, a fond smile on his lips. He pulled himself up, face to face with the hopelessly romantic man he’d fallen in love with, dark eyes staring through thick lashes.

With some hesitance, Roman asked. “Have you ever thought about wanting to get married someday? It’s okay if not, I know right now might not be the perfect time to bring it up, but… it came to mind, I guess.”

He held his breath as Virgil considered. He didn’t want to be pushy. All he knew was that if asked, he would accept that commitment, and not dream of another. Because Virgil wasn’t like any of the partners he had known before. He was gentle and rough, sweet and sour, and Roman loved his contradictions. He loved to be loved in a way he could understand.

“Maybe not right now,” Virgil finally replied, “but I’d be happy with that. With you.”

Roman nodded, kissing him on the nose and appreciating the way Virgil’s eyes crinkled when he did.

“That’s okay,” he smiled, and it was the truth. “I just need you to know that if you’re ever ready for that, I’ll be here. I’d love to call you my husband if you’d let me. One of us can surprise the other with a proposal someday, but before that, I want us both to be ready.”

Virgil blinked, slow like a cat. Maybe these kinds of conversations were better left until morning.

“Thank you. I’d uh, I’d like that though, eventually.”

Smiling, Roman closed his eyes. He always dreamed of grand fairytale weddings and proposals, but this, this was good too. Fitting for them. It wasn’t Disney, but they made it work.

Pulling the blanket further over them, Virgil kissed his prince’s cheek only to be pulled into a proper one right after. Soft and slow, Virgil felt Roman’s lips quirk as his hand grazed the rose tattooed at his hip.

Then, he asked. “Of all the people you could choose to love, why me?”

“I think you’re the only one who really gets me,” Roman said, nuzzling into his lover’s shoulder and breathing in the faint scent of lavender. “You smell good.”

Virgil laughed silently, and Roman felt his body shake against him. He could feel that same butterfly-like sensation in his stomach from when he first started thinking of him as more than a friend.

“I think you’re the only person who can understand me though… not in an edgy teenager way, but like with my issues. People see me, but not in the way you do. You’re the one who drove halfway across town to drag my sorry ass out of bed after my ex dumped me and helped me realize it was a good thing. You helped me get out of my comfort zone and experiment with makeup too. I guess in a way, you make me better. And if you can love me with all the flaws that I have, then I can love yours too.”

“Oh,” he whispered, “I didn’t know that.”

“Well, you deserve to. You may be as dark and gloomy as a live-action Batman movie, but you still make my world a little brighter.”

“You’re a dork.”

Roman gasped, pulling back and holding his hand to his chest as if he had just touched a hot stove. “You’re so mean!”

Virgil shrugged, and Roman could practically hear the unspoken ‘it’s what I do best.’ It seemed that in all the years he had known him, he figured out how to decipher the mystery of a man hidden under all that black and purple emo attire.

It was 12:27 AM, at least that’s what the clock sitting on their bedside table told them. Virgil was used to being up late, insomnia and all, but since they started living together Roman insisted he come to bed at the same time every night. He appreciated it though. He liked getting ready for bed together and the weight of Roman falling asleep against him. He didn’t want to admit it, but it helped.

The room was nearly silent, the heat turned off long ago. The quiet sounds of rustling pillows and blankets were the only thing to be heard. Warm breaths lingered on Roman’s skin making his hair rise as soft lips met his jaw. He wondered if Virgil remembered watching him scrub violet lipstick off his face in the theater's dressing room while he giggled like a kid at a carnival. If he asked, Virgil would have told him there was a reason he preferred darker shades.

“Do you think we’ll have kids someday?”

“Don’t push it, Princey. You haven’t even decided if you want to adopt a cat or a dog yet.”

“Still! Could you imagine us as dads? We could have Disney movie nights. We already do that, I know, but we could do it with our kid. I’m perfectly fine with just being pet parents, but could you imagine?”

“I can, actually, and now I’m going to be worrying about our non-existent child and their not yet existing future until I fall asleep.”

Roman glared at him before rolling onto his side. All too familiar with the silly things he did, Virgil waited in anticipation and was pleasantly surprised when Roman finally lunged back over, attacking him with a kiss and laughing against his lips.

“You said not yet existing,” he grinned, “which implies that there will be one eventually.”

Virgil sighed, running his fingers through his partner’s hair. “You’re not getting me to agree to adopt a child in the middle of the night, Ro.”

Humming, Roman nodded an ‘okay’ and let the subject go for now. Virgil didn’t even think before he spoke again.

“I want a future with you, Roman, you know that.”

The softness in his eyes was one Virgil would do anything to protect, and he smiled as Roman snuggled into his chest. He loved him, and with the sound of his heart beating in his ears he was sure that he would do anything it took to keep him safe.

“Get some rest, Sleepy Beauty,” he whispered. “You deserve it.”

In the morning, they would both wake up with their legs intertwined, knowing that they could stay in bed all morning because neither had work that day. Roman would get up first, and Virgil would admire him as he stretched. When Virgil finally did pull himself out of bed and found his future-husband in the kitchen making french toast, he would slump against his back and leave a kiss between his shoulders.

And maybe life was never going to be easy, but that could be okay. Step by step, stroke by stroke, they’d make it through as each other’s sword and shield.

[hajimewhore]

Body Swap 👫 (Iwaizumi Hajime/Reader) ➸Rated T, fem!Reader, 3.2k words ➷Humor, slight angst, misunderstandings, mutual pining, shenanigans ofc, i missed oikawa ➷ Masterlist, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, ✈Part 7

Hajime nearly chokes, wiping the ‘potion’ dribbling down his jawline, he presses the back of his hand to his mouth in an attempt to keep the disgusting concoction from exiting his gut. 

“...How was it?”

You try to pat his back sympathetically (he’s gagging now), but you’re the one that insisted he try the mystery remedy first, and you cautiously pull your hand away as he shoots you the most menacing glare he can while he’s coughing into his palm. 

“It was made with weird mushrooms and fucking plants, how do you think it tastes?”

Terrible, you guess. And the effects were supposed to be instantaneous, according to a recipe dropped in one of the posts you found… not that you expected it to work. 

“Ahh, and nothing happened.”

You rub your jaw semi-thoughtfully, before catching the look on Hajime’s face. 

“Uh, Hajime?”

His expression is glaring, not unlike someone scheming for revenge. But that’s silly, Hajime wouldn’t blame you for the potion not working, right?

“It probably didn’t work because you didn’t try it with me.”

It seems he would, realization sets in as Hajime closes in on you, and you panic,

“I think it didn’t work because it was someone bullshitting!”

“Don’t you want to swap back? Just drink it!”

“You’re just mad, get away from me!”

You trip on your feet, stumbling into the kitchen table. It scrapes the tile as your hands clutch for purchase on anything that’ll help you get you away from the madman behind you, but the tablecloth you’ve grasped at isn’t much help seeing as you swipe it off the table entirely. You’d be impressed that all the plates and the flower-filled vase stayed perfectly set on the table from your impromptu magic trick, if it weren’t for Hajime assaulting you.

You cry out as if you’re being brutally attacked (you are, technically–just with plant juice), and Hajime takes you by the jaw and tilts a cup of the swirling cocktail to your lips, sloshing rather unappetizingly in the glass. If the thing had an aura, it’d have a thick gray cloud fuming from it. 

“And why would I be mad?”

“Because I made you drink a potion I found on a weird thread even though it was totally suspicious and completely untrustworthy!”

You confess to your sins, the thread was actually some sort of troll that promised the reader would swap bodies with their favorite celebrity, and you cast it aside for the likelihood of that never happening, it was probably a scam to get some gullible teens to drink essentially dirt.

And you admit that initially you thought it would be funny to prank Hajime, jotting down the recipe and conveniently leaving out the celebrity bit, but in your excitement to scheme you forgot Hajime doesn’t take too well to pranks at his expense. 

Not without retribution at least, and you find yourself grappling at his wrists, attempting to turn your head away from the glass.

He eyes you with a too eager grin,

“You should try it, really, it might work.”

It didn’t. 

It was disgusting. 

You have learned your lesson not to trifle with Hajime, and you're no closer to finding a solution to your problem. 

You slump onto the kitchen table, feeling especially abused and violated by the plant paste you regretfully crafted. 

“That’s number one on the list, what’s next?”

Hajime rests his elbow on the table, chin in palm as he scrolls on his phone. 

“Bonk our heads together so hard we pass out and hopefully wake up in our own bodies?”

You suggest. Who knows, it could actually work.

“No thanks, I’d rather not wake up the same way but with a concussion.”

The second Hajime turns down your cartoonish suggestion, his phone lights up and buzzes, signifying a call.

You glance at his phone, “Tooru’s calling you?”

“Fuck. I’ll just ignore it,”

The moment he sets his phone aside, the kitchen door bursts open, presenting none other than Oikawa Tooru, entirely expected given the situation and the fact that Hajime’s parents are still at work. 

“Tooru?!”

You blink in surprise, and Tooru frowns at the sight of the two of you together. 

“I knew you were ignoring me!”

“What the fuck Shittykawa, who said you could come over?”

Hajime grimaces, forgetting to stay true to your personality in his surprise. Tooru’s brow ticks at the catty response to his entrance. 

“I see you’ve been spending too much time with Iwa-chan, using his terrible nicknames! I didn’t think you’d ever use it on me either, but here we are!”

He folds his arms across his chest, and Hajime covers his mouth.

Shit, he let that one slip in his initial shock. 

“Besides, this is Iwa-chan’s house, and I say I can come over! You two have been ignoring me all week and coming up with the shittiest excuses—”

“Oikawa—”

“No, let me finish!”

He huffs, looking more serious than you’ve seen him outside the court. Judging by his posture and the worry in his brows, you can tell he’s been stressing himself lately. You bite your cheek, knowing full well you and Hajime were the root of the cause.

“Both of you have to go to the dentist when the office is closed, really? Iwa-chan studying for a test that’s not for another week, please! Give me a break. Not to mention, every practice you play like shit Iwa-chan,”

It’s not shit, you’re just not Hajime’s usual, because you’re not fucking Hajime. You want to argue, defend yourself and Hajime, but you keep your lips sealed. 

“You act like a total weirdo, you hardly talk to your own teammates and friends, and you–”

He turns to Hajime, technically you, scowl ever present. 

“You always run off with him after school! And don’t even pretend like you’re not having lunch with him too, Kunimi-chan saw you eating alone together by the art building–ditching me, yeah?”

He’s fuming, and his hair is moving in every direction accompanying his wild, frantic gestures. 

The guilt starts piling, and you’re starting to regret yours and Hajime’s way of handling the situation. 

To avoid uncomfortable situations and messing up, you thought the best method was to steer clear from everyone entirely. 

Clearly that’s backfiring, but it’s too late to erase those actions now. 

“Not only have you two spent all week lying to me, you’ve been completely ignoring my calls and texts all weekend too!”

Tooru pauses, rant seemingly over, but neither you or Hajime feel inclined to speak yet, too caught off guard by the outburst, and unsure of what you can say to remedy the situation. 

Tooru drops his arms at his sides, glancing away from the two of you, biting his lip. Your shoulders tense when you feel the atmosphere around him drop significantly.

“Are you guys mad at me?”

Oh. 

Oh fuck.

You forgot he had feelings. 

“Oikawa, it’s not that, I swear.”

You speak first, and Tooru looks to you with an expression that almost breaks your heart right there. Brown eyes glossy, lips in a thin line as if he’s trying to keep them from turning down into a frown, he looks genuinely displeased.

“Are you just sick of me? Are you tired of hanging out with me? I know I’m an asshole sometimes, but if it makes you guys that upset I can stop, I’ll be better.” 

In any other context you may quip with a ‘you could stop this whole time?’, but the joke wouldn’t sit right, and Tooru looks entirely too on edge, fingers tapping at his sides restlessly. 

Tooru’s always been the type to stay true to himself, unabashedly and unapologetically. He knows he’s flawed, has learned to accept his shortcomings as a person. But here he is before you and Hajime, willing to cast aside his pride for the sake of your friendship. It only serves to guilt you more, considering it’s based upon the lies you’ve built up.

“I promise we’re not sick of you, we just… had something come up that we had to deal with. It’s been really stressful, I’m sorry.”

You don’t particularly care if it’s too out of character, it’s what Tooru needs to hear. 

Risking a glance at Hajime, you see he’s shaking his leg and biting his lip, a few of his nervous tics, he’s contemplating something heavily. 

“And you can’t tell me? You always tell me when something is wrong.”

Tooru eyes you suspiciously, and it’s true, usually you can tell Tooru anything. But this isn’t something believable, and you and Hajime both decided it’s best kept a secret. 

“We can’t, but it’s nothing you did. Don’t worry about it, we’ll start hanging out soon, like we used to, we just have to deal with this ourselves.”

And you hope you’ll be able to, it’d be nice to go back to normal. You did miss movie nights with Tooru and Hajime, and you miss having lunch together on the rooftop. 

Tooru thinks for a moment, you see the gears turning in his head, eyes focused. He glances to Hajime, who hasn’t said a word the entire time, still tense on the other side of the table. 

Tooru’s contemplative gaze flicks to you, as if he’s had some sort of revelation. 

“Did you get her pregnant?”

WHA—THAT’S HIS REVELATION?

“You asshole, shut up!”

Hajime’s choice first words. 

“What?! No, no, fuck no!”

You blush heavily at his wild accusation, and Tooru looks visibly relieved. 

“Oh, thank god. It wouldn’t have been a bad thing, necessarily, and I always kind of expected it, but this is just too soon.”

He laughs airily, as if he doesn’t feel the weight of his words like you do, heavy on your heart. Does everyone have that assumption? That you and Hajime would one day be together like that?

“We’re not even dating, idiot.”

Ouch. Hajime’s adamant refusal jabs at you, and you try to ignore the ache that claws at your chest. That may have stung a bit, but you certainly won’t admit it out loud.

“Yeah, yeah. I just couldn’t think of any other reason you’d be ignoring me like that.”

“It’s ‘cause we swapped bodies.”

You whip your head to Hajime, physically ripped from your disappointment, too shocked he’d blab the truth to Tooru and expect a reasonable outcome from it.

“Hah. Hah.”

Tooru doesn’t even entertain the explanation, arms crossed and eyes disinterested, accompanying the dry laugh well.

“It’s true.”

You hope Hajime knows what he’s doing. 

“Funny, and I didn’t think you’d be in on it Iwa-chan, looking so surprised like that.”

Tooru doesn’t even look skeptical, or remotely fazed, as if he doesn’t want to be tricked into falling for something so blatantly stupid. 

And normally, he’d be right to, but in this case, you and Hajime were unfortunately not kidding. 

“I just didn’t think Hajime would openly admit that without talking to me first.”

You shoot a glance at Hajime, as if to convey ‘I hope you know what you’re doing’, but he merely shrugs in response. 

“And you’re a real prankster today too. What’s gotten into you guys? Seriously, are you mad at me?”

Tooru is starting to look a little peeved, visibly doubting your words of encouragement from earlier. 

“We’re not mad. We switched places. We woke up last Sunday in each other’s bodies. That’s why we haven’t been ourselves, and that’s why we’ve been avoiding everyone.”

Hajime continues with his explanation, as if Tooru would be any closer to believing it.

Which he isn’t. 

“That’s not even possible, but fine, I’ll play along. You’re Iwa-chan, supposedly. What’s something that only he would know?”

Tooru crosses his arms smugly, staring at your body, who is ‘supposedly’ Hajime, as if he’s got you two in checkmate. 

This can’t be good for Tooru, but it’s definitely going to be good for you if you’re getting in on a secret. 

“Alright. You swore me to secrecy for this one,” Hajime doesn’t hesitate for one second, “that time at the volleyball banquet last year you saw a girl with a ‘nice ass’ in a ‘super mega tight dress’ and wanted to hit on her, but when you tapped her shoulder, she turned around and it was actually Y/N–”

Now this is very interesting news to you. 

“H-HEY, STOP TALKING–”  

Hajime side steps Tooru’s attempt to cover his mouth,

“And you pre-gamed before the event so you drunkenly admitted to me that you’d still tap that but she’s practically your sister and that’s gross but her ass looked so–”

“I get it okay! How do I know you’re not just fucking with me and broke the secret pact we made?!”

Tooru cuts Hajime off and glares at you, but you’re giving him the widest, shit-eating grin. 

“I knew that dress looked good.”

“Enough games already!”

“What about the time in elementary school where you and I went to a volleyball match and you had to–”

“ENOUGH, enough, I believe you, okay!”

Tooru relents, red-faced and practically sweating from his nervous panic. 

“I wanna know about the time in elementary school where you and Hajime went to a volleyball match and something happened.”

You put your hand up, wanting to know the juicy details. You thought you and Tooru told each other everything, but apparently there’s some missing gaps in that ‘everything’, and you’re very eager to learn. 

“We made a friendship promise and he swore me not to tell anyone but because of the circumstances, he had to—” 

“I said I believed you already, stop trying to out me!”

Tooru cuts Hajime off at the best part, every time. 

He taps his foot with a huff, bottom lip twitching into a frown. Hajime gives him a smug look, staring back combatively, as if Tooru will attempt to call out bullshit again (he won’t). 

You’ll have to remember to ask Hajime about the middle school incident at a later date, but right now, 

“I’m sorry we kept this from you, and sorry I kept ignoring your calls, Tooru. We didn’t know what to do.”

You interrupt their staring contest, wrapping your arms around Tooru in a tight hug. You’re the tallest you’ve ever been, and it’s weird to hug him when you aren’t yourself, but you missed your best friend. 

“Uh…”

Tooru awkwardly pats your back,

“I was kind of lying before because I thought you guys were trying to shame and humiliate me, but this is really weird and I actually might believe you now.”

“Asshole, that’s all it took?! And stop hugging him like that, it's freaking me out!”

Hajime slaps Tooru on the back, yanking you by the back of your shirt to pull you from the hug. 

He grumbles something indecipherable under his breath, contemplating whether he should even say anything, 

“I’m sorry too. I guess.”

He gives Tooru an awkward, much gentler slap on the back, before slinging his arm around Tooru in some sort of half-hug gesture.

“I-Iwa-chan! It really is you in there!”

Oikawa’s fake tears spring to life as he bends down to wrap Hajime in a hug, who struggles like a cat wanting to be released. 

“Get off me!”

Tooru pulls back, wiping a tear from his long lashes, 

“I’m still really upset right now, I really thought you guys hated me! So if you could please shower me with adoration, that’d be lovely.”

Tooru spreads out his arms, a pathetic expression on his face that Hajime doesn’t buy for one second. 

“Tooru! I love you! You’re the best Tooru, your jump serves are great! Your setting is unmatched! You’re my bestest friend!”

You cheer him on, Hajime is balking that you’d even entertain the idea of doing that in his body, let alone acting on it, but Tooru eats it up with gleaming eyes. 

“Quit feeding his ego!”

It’s your turn to be scolded by Hajime, but you just stick your tongue out at him sheepishly. 

“He deserves it?”

“He didn’t do anything.”

“Exactly! He didn’t do anything, and we were being bad friends.”

“I’m on your side,”

Tooru slings an arm around your shoulder and gazes down at Hajime, who’s more aggravated now than when he was drinking straight plant paste. 

It hadn’t bothered him too much initially, but having to crane his neck up to glare at Tooru is sparking some caveman urge deep inside Hajime to absolutely throttle him.

“Out. Get out of my house.”

“Technically, this isn’t your house–OW, Iwa-chan, that still hurts!”

“Newsflash Asshole-kawa, girls can hit too!”

They can, and you let Hajime prove his point. 

“So,”

“If it’s something about aliens, I don’t want to hear it.”

You interrupt Tooru before he can spew something definitely about aliens.

“I wasn’t going to bring up aliens–though it’s a very valid cause you definitely need to consider. I was actually going to ask if you have any idea how long you’re gonna be like this?”

You give Tooru a tired look, and Hajime just ignores him entirely, tired of glaring no doubt. 

Tooru’s been lazing around, attempting to ‘help’ you and Hajime, but you doubt he’s accomplished anything aside from scrolling through the same threads you’ve looked through. You’re willing to bet he researched for a minute or two before losing interest, abandoning the task in favor of looking through Karasuno’s and Shiratorizawa’s match history.

“If we knew, we’d tell you.”

You respond, since it seems Hajime isn’t interested in replying.

“Ooh, that reminds me,” Tooru props his elbows up on the couch, pausing whatever volleyball match he was watching to drop his phone on his chest, “I saw this foreign family comedy once where the mom and her daughter swapped places, but they had to show each other selfless love and understand what the other goes through to swap back.” 

Tooru gasps in additional realization before turning to Hajime, “Iwa-chan, are you her mom?”

The look Hajime gives Tooru is enough to put him in a grave and send secondhand chills down your spine. 

“Sorry, sorry, don’t hit me again! Your hands are pointy and jabby now, it’s hard to get used to.”

Ignoring that, 

“Hajime and I already understand each other, we have to put up with you all day.”

“True,” Tooru is completely unbothered by that comment, “I did see a romcom where the two main characters had to kiss at the end, they ended up swapping places like that.”

You don’t like that he casually suggests this with such an innocent look on his features.

“That sounds stupid, watch better movies.”

Hajime grunts out, and you’ll admit that kissing Hajime would be nice, but under normal circumstances preferably. You don’t particularly want to kiss yourself as Hajime. 

“I appreciate all your knowledge in films that have body swaps in them Tooru, but this isn’t a romcom, or a movie.”

You sigh, and Tooru hums thoughtfully. 

“Sure, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

He sits upright with ease, sliding off the couch and pocketing his phone, 

“Anyways, I’ve got more practice to do. I’ll try not to be too hard on you tomorrow, now that I know you’ve swapped with that brute over there. Ciao!”

Tooru ducks out of the living room and out the Iwaizumi household before Hajime can assault him, and good thing, he probably would’ve had some bruises from your ‘jabby’ and ‘pointy’ hands. 

With Tooru’s quick escape, you’re left contemplating whether that suggestion would actually work or not, risking glances to Hajime across the room.

A/N: not me ending a chapter on a juicy bit again afjknddm, anyways im posting this at an ungodly time but i hope everyone enjoys!

taglist: @cybergovl @babybellecheese @keijikunn @168-cm-png @sexy0android @cuddlesslut @bumbledunce​

[il0veyoujk]

The secret is out.

Summary: Nefeli (14) has a secret tickle blog on Tumblr and her brother, Hoseok, finds out about it...

Warnings: None

Notes: None

This is a tickle related ff, if you are not interested in it, please keep scrolling

Lots of love Nef 💕

I think everyone has their little secrets. Especially from their siblings. Like Nefeli had from her brother, Hoseok. The teenage girl had a tiny miny guilty pleasure, she loved tickling. And that had to be kept as a secret. But she had a bigger one. Nefeli had a blog on Tumblr where she was writing fanfics about tickling, where the members of Got7 were tickling the reader. It wasn’t a huge one, but she loved it. However, this had to be kept as a secret. No one knew about it and no one would ever know about it!

Nefeli was currently lying on her bed in the hotel she was staying with her brother and his bandmates. Being a brother of a super idol sometimes sucks. You have to follow him to every tour he was going and deal with all the crazy fans. But now the tour was over and the boys plus the 14-year-old girl were just having their holidays.

And after a long day, Nefeli had finally the opportunity to relax. They had gone to museums, restaurants, monuments, everywhere. They had walked too much and they had eaten whatever they could, so they were all too tired.

Hoseok, was with the boys in Yoongi’s and Taehyung’s room, playing video games, while Nefeli was alone in her room, writing a new fanfic with Mark and the reader.

She was lying on her stomach on the bed, swinging her barefoot legs back and forth. She was too concentrate on what she was doing to notice her brother was finally back, right behind her and reading what she was writing, with a huge grin on his face.

“What are you doing?!” he playfully yelled behind her, scribbling on her feet fastly, taking her by surprise.

“AAAAHAHAHAHA NAHAHAHA!” she screamed and fell into fits of hysterics and started kicking dangerously fast as her feet were being tortured. “HAHAHAHSEOHAHAHAK!” she yelled and he let her go.

She was lying there, panting and rubbing her feet with each other, trying to get the ghost tickles to vanish. “Youhouhouhou are mehehean” she giggled and rolled onto her back to have a better look at her brother, who was giggling along with Nefeli.

Hoseok was tickling Nefeli since... well, since forever. He is her brother after all. He knows all her sweet spots and can drive her crazy in a matter of seconds. However, he also knows that Nefeli secretly enjoys that. Truly much. Nefeli never says ‘stop’ when Hoseok is tickling her, only when she is reaching her breaking point.

His eyes fell again on her laptop screen, reading the fanfic she was writing once again and smirking hugely. The teenage girl spotted what her brother was doing and shut the screen fastly.

“What are you writing there, sunshine?” Hoseok asked as he took a seat on the bed next to his sister.

“N-Nothing Hobi, really, it’s nothing” she stuttered.

The young lad rose an eyebrow “Neffie are you lying to me?” he asked and Nef shook her head too fast to convince her brother. But she didn’t do much. “No! I am telling the truth!”

“Hm,” Hoseok murmured under his breath and jumped onto his sister, sitting on her hips. Classic way to get her to admit everything.

“Noooo, I swear! Lemme go! I didn’t do anything!” Nefeli tried to escape the upcoming torture, but it was useless. He was way too taller and older than her, nothing could save her.

But lemme tell you, Nefeli is truly stubborn when she wants. And if she wants to keep a secret, nothing can make her spit it out like that. They have to make a lot of efforts to make her speak. And there was no way she was gonna admit she loves tickling and that she writes stories about it

But let’s not forget he is her brother. He knows her since she was born and has lived his entire life with her. He knows her buttons than Nefeli herself.

Hoseok grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head, with no difficulties at all, still smirking “Last change Neffie, tell me or the tickle monster is gonna get ya” he sang and started wiggling his fingers right above her bare armpit, making them look like claws.

Nefeli started giggling and trying to squirm away “Nohohohoooooo, I didn’t do anything! I was just scrolling through Wattpaaahahahad!” she lied and tried to pull her arms down, but without avail. She was trapped under Hoseok and his wiggling fingers, which were ready to attack her.

“Okay, you are asking for it,” he said as he launched his hand on her armpit, clawing on them fastly.

She burst into loud fits of laughter, thrashing around on the bed, trying to pull her arms down like a madman, but she couldn’t. Hoseok had an iron grip on her wrists.

“Aw you are so cute when you laugh Neffie” he smiled and nuzzled her cheek with his nose, which was ticklish as well. “Do you have to tell me something now?”

“NAHAHAHAHA HAHAHABIHIHIHAHAHAHA!” she laughed loudly as she felt the fingers scribbling and pinching her armpits and hollows without mercy.

It was like tiny bugs were running up and down her soft skin. Nefeli’s brother was grinning down at her in the most teasing way he could, driving her crazy. Ah, that boy was born to tease his little sister.

“No?!” he playfully yelled and gasped loudly, moving his hands to her ribs, spidering there fastly, his teasing grin still on his face “Then I guess you need to rethink about it”

All the nerves in Nefeli’s body were being destroyed one by one as Hoseok was sliding his fingers furiously up and down her rib bones, giving more attention to her sixth and most ticklish rib. She shot her now free arms on her torso, trying to protect her sensitive self, but she was just making everything worse.

Nefeli started squirming and bucking her hips in the air, trying to get Hoseok off of her and make the feeling more bearable, but nothing was working.

“AHAHAHAHAHAM NAHAHAHAHAHAHAT DOHAHAHAHAHING ANYHAHAHATHING!” she cried and grabbed his wrist, trying with all her strength to battle them off. But guess what? They weren’t going anywhere!

“Hm really? I think my little sunshine is lying to me! Now that’s not nice, I feel like crying” he smirked, not ceasing his rib-tickling.

If Nefeli’s eyes could go wide they would. She knows perfectly well what that means...

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NAHAHAHAHAHAHAT THAHAHAHAT!” she pleaded and shook her head side to side frantically.

The young lad smirked for some seconds before he wore his sad face and rose her t-shirt, to reveal her chubby tummy, leaving her enough tortured ribs alone.

“Nohohahahaha Hobihihihi!” she giggled from anticipation as she saw her brother’s face inching towards her exposed belly.

“You are making me even sadder now sunshine” he tried to swallow his own chuckles but he wasn’t doing much. “I think I need to blow my nose,” he said and Nefeli’s eyes grew bigger in fear.

“Nohohohoho Hobihihihi noooAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” she cried and brought to the surface her loudest belly laughter as Hoseok blew an abnormally ticklish raspberry just above her belly button. He even added fake sobs to add to the torture.

Raspberries and mouth tickles in general were a huge weakness of the poor girl. They were driving her crazy. She just couldn’t stand them. No, never, for no reason at all.

Hoseok then nuzzled his face in the warm skin of her belly, blowing tiny raspberries on it, like he was actually crying. Nefeli was trying with all the strength she had inside her to push his shoulders away, so he could at least have a break, but Hoseok was going anywhere.

“HAHAHAHAHASEOAHAHAHAHAHAK!” the little girl laughed loudly and was punching the mattress as hard as she could so as she would be distracted from the unbearable sensation, but it was useless.

Suddenly the door opened widely and Taehyung rushed inside, with fear in his eyes. He must have heard the screams and the loud laughter, along with the rest of the boys.

Hoseok stopped and looked up towards his friend, leaving his sister panting on the bed hardly. Sweat was all over her face and she was tryna catch her breath. Her face was as red as a tomato and she could still feel some ghost tickles on her belly.

“What’s happening? The boys and I got really worried, I heard Nef screaming” Taehyung asked, raising an eyebrow at the panting girl on the mattress and his grinning friend.

Nefeli got really nervous. She thought Hoseok was gonna expose her just like that in front of his friend and that Tae would tickle her as well.

“Oh nothing much, Neffie is just really ticklish and I was just playing with her” he grinned, pinching her belly softly, making her flinch and giggle loudly.

She mentally sighed in relief. If it was to expose her Tickle Blog to someone, at least that someone had to be her brother. The person she trusted the most.

“Oh okay, lemme know when you are done, we wanna go out for a movie and diner” Tae smirked and exited the room, leaving the siblings alone again.

“Nohohoho mohohohore” Nefeli giggled, covering her belly and looking at the ceiling with half-opened eyes.

“Oh come on sissy, I saw that you were writing something on your laptop,” he said mischievously, as he placed his hands on her still bare sides. However, Nefeli hadn’t understood what was happening because she was looking at the ceiling. “I just wanna know what it is!”

“Nohohohohothing!” she kept giggling uncontrollably.

“Then I guess I just have to get out the secret weapon” he smirked and started squeezing her sides faster than the speed of the light, sending her into loud fits of hysterical laughter and making her squirm like a fish out of the water.

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAT THAHAHAHAHAHAHARE!” she screamed and fell back again in her franticly laughter, as Hoseok was killing her- I mean squeezing her side.

“Coochie coochie coo, Neffie!” he teased and moved to the spot where the sides are connecting with the ribs, clawing there.

Nefeli felt electric shots hitting her and every hair she had on her body tensed from the torturing sensation. And all the teasing was not helping at all. “Y’know Neffie, you never say stop. I am starting to think that you may like it!”

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHA DAHAHAHAN’T!” she yelled in between her hysterical laughter as Hoseok was kneading furiously her sides.

Her mouth had started aching from all the smiling and laughing. Her face was looking like an alive tomato and her belly was hurting. However, she didn’t want it to end. She was having too much fun, considering the great love she hides for tickles.

Hoseok just chuckled deeply and nuzzled the crook of her neck with his cute nose, chuckling against her skin as he heard Nefeli’s laughter going up at least 20 octaves.

“Neffie you are so sweet I could eat you! But I guess that’s what I have to do then!” he smirked and bend down inching towards her lowest ribs “Last chance sunshine. Tell me or the tickle monster will eat you aaaaaall up!”

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” she laughed loudly, afraid the boys would come back to check upon them.

She didn’t give the answer her brother wanted tho...

“Beep-beep! Too slow! Now you’re gonna be my meal for tonight!” he said and he fastly dive in her bare ribs, sending her in the most hysterical laughter she had ever experienced while he kept squeezing her hypersensitive sides.

Nefeli left an incredibly deafening scream and she started kicking her legs in the mattress and trying to push Hoseok off of her with all her might, her head shaking left and right like a madman.

The ticklish sensations were the most intense she had ever received all those years she lives with Hoseok and his merciless tickles. Her ribs were not too ticklish but when it comes to nibbles, they become her worst spot. More than her sides.

Nibbles were her number one weakness. She just couldn’t stand them. They are always evil, extremely ticklish and they were making her hella sensitive.

“MAHAHAHAHARCAHAHAHAHA STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP IHAHAHAHAHAHA’LL TAHAHAHAHAHALL YAHAHAHAHAHA!” Nefeli cried as her lowest rib was being tortured and her sides were burning and her laughter after that went silent.

Hoseok saw that a sign for him to stop and let her breathe. He lied next to his panting sister and wrapped her in a tight hug, rubbing her sides to vanish the ghost tickles.

Soft, airy giggles were leaving her as she started calming down and catching her breath. Her face was returning to her official color and her spots were not hurting anymore.

“You know, I already know you love when I tickle you” he whispered into her ear, tickling her again, but only enough to send shivers down her spine and bring some leftover giggles.

“Hahahahahohohohow?” she asked blushing and hiding her head in Hoseok’s chest.

The young lad chuckled and rubbed her back affectionately, helping her calm down completely. “When you were mmm... around 5?? I think?? You told me you never wanted me to stop tickling you” he laughed at the memory.

Making her even shier, Nefeli pushed herself onto Hoseok hiding, her whole self in his grip. “So... Can I read those little fics of yours?” her brothers asked, poking her cheek, making her crack a smile inside his chest. And lemme tell you Hoseok loved her works.

Nefeli was so glad Hoseok didn’t judge her about her blog. She knew that there was nothing she would be embarrassed about, but she was just feeling weird about her guilty pleasure. However, she was not gonna give up what she loves. She continues writing what she wants and she keeps having fun with them till today.

Writing is a way for everyone to snap out of the world, and when someone loves writing, they never leave it. As you are writing, you explore and finally find how you want your fics to be. Guys don’t leave your dreams and what you love doing for anyone and anything. You can always improve your writing skills and not give up. Have faith in you!

[rjhpandapaws]

A Hand in the Matter

Ch7: Adventures in Interior Decorating

Tina eyed Gavin suspiciously as she leaned on the bar. Normally they would be doing this on a Friday rather than a Wednesday, but for once Gavin had plans for the weekend. So it was either move the "gays night out" as Tina called it up a bit, or not have one this week. Tina was not exactly pleased with the change of plans since she was working early the next day. Setting her beer glass down she spoke.

"So let me get this straight," she started and leaned into Gavin, not even laughing at what would normally be a joke between them. "You moved our night out up two fucking nights into the work week because you're going to spend the weekend with some guy named Richard. Helping him remodel his apartment or whatever, but you're not sleeping with him."

"Tina, my answer isn't going to have changed from the last three fucking times you asked me," Gavin replied with an exasperated sigh. "We aren't sleeping together. He's just a friend."

"So was Allen. Until he wasnt," she said sitting back like she had made some kind of point.

Gavin rolled his eyes, "Richard is different, its not like that with him. I see him a bit like I see you."

"That's a lie. You've never adjusted your schedule to help me remodel."

"Tina, you haven't remodeled anything." Gavin pointed out, "I think you've had enough for the night, let's settle the tab and call it."

Tina seemed like she was going to argue for a moment before she nodded. She stood, needing a moment to regain her footing before walking to the end of the bar to pay. Gavin followed suit.

When they were outside the bar waiting on their respective rides. Tina for her girlfriend and Gavin for his Uber.

Tina took a deep steadying breath before speaking, "just... be careful okay? I know I don't know him, but I just don't want to risk seeing you back in a place like you were after Allen."

"I know T." Gavin said straightening up off the wall, "you're just looking out for me. I respect that."

She nodded as a familiar car pulled up to the curb and she lifted a hand to wave at him, "Good night Gav."

"Yeah, you too." He returned the wave and watched her go.

She had always been that way, looking out for him and at least trying to protect him. He understood the warning. The no feelings involved arrangement with Allen had collapsed in on itself when Gavin went ahead and caught feelings, and Allen hadn't. The fight that happened after ended their friendship and left Gavin in a bad way for quite a while. Tina had been left to pick up the pieces and be damage control. Her suspicion of Richard, although misplaced in Gavin's opinion, came from a well meaning place.

The weekend crept up on Gavin, and it was Friday afternoon before he knew it. He was running around his apartment like a madman, packing all of the things he might need for a weekend at Richard's place. It would be his first time there since Richard's panic attack as well as his first time there as an invited guest. Tina would come by twice a day to check on Frankie. The cat in mention was watching him from her cat tower. He reached up to pet the mildly overweight black feline.

"I'll be back in a couple days," he said in a voice one might use for children, "be good for your aunt Tina okay?"

She leaned into his hand before he pulled away and picked up the duffle bag. He made sure he had his keys and his phone before heading down to the parking lot. This weekend was kind of a big deal for Richard as well. He'd never had anyone stay over at his apartment before, and on top of that they would be remodeling it. Trying to make it into a place that Richard could feel at home in rather than trapped. When Gavin arrived at his bike he sent Richard a text.

Gavin: Getting ready to head your way. Need me to pick anything up on my way over?

Tall Phcker from Psych: No. Not that I can think of.

Gavin: Alright, see you soon.

He strapped his bag to his bike, with it situated safely he put his helmet on and got on the bike himself. He left the complex and made his way to Richard's. He was looking forward to the weekend, hanging out with Richard was always a good time. Something that was as important to Richard as this was bound to be the same. Gavin parked as close to the building as he could. He still had to go up the stairs to get to Nines's apartment, he was not packing his bag across a fucking parking lot on top of all that.

Gavin got off the bike, took his helmet off and unclipped the duffle bag. He slung it over his shoulder and headed for the stairs. He sent another text before heading up.

Gavin: on my way up to you

Tall Phcker from Psych: ok. The door is unlocked.

Gavin tucked his phone away and began his treck up the stairs. It probably would have been smarter to use the elevator, but Gavin only knew how to find the apartment from the stairs. It was the fifth unit from the end on the left from this direction, and he didn't know how many from the elevator it was. Like last time, Gavin was fighting for his breath when he got to the top.

Gavin opened the door and took his shoes off, putting them on the bottom shelf of the slate grey shoe rack Richard had bought online. It was the first personal touch he'd added to the place, and the thing that had started all of this. Straightening up he smiled at Richard.

"Where do you want this?" He asked gesturing to the bag on his shoulder.

Richard looked up from where he was getting something out of the fridge and pointed to the couch. Gavin made his way to the couch and set the bag down, he stretched before squatting down and digging through it. He made a sound of victory when he came away what he was looking for, he smiled and hid the small box behind his back as he walked back toward the kitchen. On the counter were two glass bottles of old fashioned soda, the same kind that Gavin usually had at his place.

"Thanks." Gavin said accepting the bottle that was slid across the island toward him, "I got you something, a bit of a housewarming gift."

Gavin set the hastily wrapped gift on the island and slid it toward Richard. He grabbed the bottle and popped the cap off with practiced ease. Richard was careful as he unwrapped his gift, looking like he was trying to avoid tearing the wrapping paper. He got to the nondescript box and looked at it for a long moment before opening it just as carefully. He took out the white porcelain mug, turning it over in his hands until he got to the text. 'Silence is Golden' was printed in light blue cursive script. He set the mug down carefully, looking at him with one of the biggest smiles Gavin had ever seen on him.

'Thank You.' He signed, 'I Love It.'

"I'm glad," Gavin took a drink from the cool soda, finding refreshing after his trip up the stairs. "I saw it in the campus bookstore and thought you might like it."

Richard took a drink from his own bottle while Gavin picked up the trash from the counter trying to minimize the clutter. He left the mug alone, Richard could decided what he wanted to do with it.

"What's the plan for tonight?" Gavin asked heading for the livingroom figuring Richard would follow him to the couch, "online shopping, actual shopping, relaxing, or getting started on changing around the place?"

Richard sat beside him on the couch in his usual proper posture, stiff and rigid in comparison to Gavin who looked like he'd been poured onto it. Richard tapped his fingers along the bottle in his hands as he thought about it. This whole thing was a big decision for him. Gavin would give him as much time as he needed for his choice.

Eventually Richard set his bottle down and began signing, stopping then restarting several times before letting out an annoyed sigh. He picked up his phone choosing to type out his thoughts instead. Gavin's signing was slowly getting better, but he wasn't fluent and his understanding was hit and miss still.

Tall Phcker from Psych: could we stay in tonight? Relax and maybe look at things online?

Tall Phcker from Psych: I don't think I'm ready to do much else yet.

"That's perfectly fine." He turned on the TV switching it over to something they didn't have to invest much attention in, "we'll only do what you're comfortable with."

That was how they spent the afternoon, scrolling through online furniture stores. Richard made a list of what he wanted to get and colors he hoped to find them in. It was hours later when they were pulled from the moment by Gavin's empty stomach growling out its discontent.

'Food?' Richard signed with an amused shine to his eyes.

"Yeah, that would probably be a good idea." Gavin said with a chuckle of his own, one hand pressed firmly over his abdomen to muffle any further noises, "you in the mood to cook or is it a take out kind of night?"

Richard answered by pulling up a deliver app on his phone. He picked an Italian place, put in his order before handing the phone off to Gavin. He looked over the menu ordering food for himself and passing the phone back to Richard so he could add something else if he wanted before placing the order.

They took a break when the food arrived, setting it up on the coffee table. It was nice and comfortable, like the evenings they sometimes spent at Gavin's place. This was a nice feeling. They stayed like that well into the night. Passing notes like little kids until it was late enough in the that Gavin felt like he was going to collapse into the coffee table from his place on the floor. He yawned so widely that his jaw cracked and spoke aloud for the first time in hours.

"So how are we doing this Nines?" He rubbed at his face to try and wake up more, considering as conversations tended to require more brain power than he currently possessed.

'You Take Couch. I Take Bed.' Came the reply before Richard began cleaning up the coffee table. Right, they still had to move that.

Gavin helped as well, throwing out the garbage while Richard packed up and put away the left over food. Despite it being Richard's livingroom rather than Gavin's, they still moved as a unit to clear the living room for the pull out bed. When that was done, Richard stepped back observing the room, this was another change for him, but from what Gavin could see he was taking it well.

They took turns in the bathroom getting ready for bed. When Gavin finally got to bed he pulled put his phone to check his messages. He had a few from Tina.

Pocket Police: we could be out drinking now but you have other friends apparently

Pocket Police: don't do anything we wouldn't do

Pocket Police: Frankie misses you

Gavin: we'll have the normal schedule back soon. You know I still love you

Gavin: we won't. I miss Frankie too

Gavin: good night T

Pocket Police: night Gav

He set his phone on the armrest and rolled onto his side. The excitement of the day had drained him and sleep was quick to pull him under. Gavin slept soundly and well into the morning. Waking only when he heard movement from the kitchen. Whoever was there was trying to keep quiet.

It took Gavin's slowly waking brain a long moment to recognize he wasn't in his own apartment. He sat up and stretched, after rubbing the sleep from his eyes he made his way into the kitchen. Slowly being coaxed to life by the smell of coffee. A good way to start a busy weekend, or, any weekend really.

"Good morning Richard," Gavin mumbled around a yawn. "How did you sleep?"

'Good Morning,' he signed back. 'I Slept Fine.'

They were pleasantly quiet after that. Gavin wasn't exactly much of a talker or much of a functioning human before his first cup of coffee. He wasn't grumpy, he just wasn't talkative because it was too much effort. Last night they had come up with a plan of attack for the weekend. Today was a shopping day, and tomorrow they would get things set up.

When the coffee finished brewing Richard reached up into the cabinet grabbing a mug for Gavin, and took the one Gavin had brought him yesterday for himself. Gavin was happy to see him use it. Richard poured Gavin's first, sliding it to him and then pointing to the fridge. Gavin nodded his thanks and stepped that way, setting his mig down on the counter beside it. He opened the door doing a bit of digging around before he came away with what he was looking for: Carmel flavored coffee creamer. He was being silently judged by Richard as he added what his counterpart referred to as a criminal amount of cream to his coffee before returning the bottle to the fridge. He took a long drink as he turned to face Richard.

"That's some good coffee," Gavin joked, grinning when he saw Richard wrinkle his nose in disgust.

'You Monster,' was signed back at him, though there was no heat to it.

The easy silence settled over them again as they drank their coffee. Richard was looking out the livingroom window, and Gavin was looking over what he could see of the apartment from his place by the fridge. Having the pull out bed open helped the place look more lived in. It felt more alive, the way a home should.

When they were ready to go they met in the entry way, grabbing what they would need before heading out. They would be taking Richard's car because heavy shopping and motorcycles didn't mix well. Gavin in all honesty was pretty excited. He'd never gotten to see Richard in an environment that one if not both of them had some control over. This would be a learning experience for the both of them.

Richard's car was a light grey Toyota model that Gavin didn't recognize. The inside, as he expected, was spotless. Richard played music from his phone as they drive toward the shopping district. Richard had a system in place, specific stores he wanted to look at. Gavin was coming along to translate as needed and for moral support. Even though he was more or less just along for the ride, he was still looking forward to it. They arrived at the first store on the list and Richard found a place to park turning off the car.

'Ready?' Richard signed at him.

"Yeah," Gavin unbuckled and got out of the car, "are you?"

Richard nodded and got out as well. They walked into the store, it had a relatively open floor plan. One half was furniture and the other half was trinkets and decorations meant for livening up they came to call home. Richard wandered through the store to satisfy his curiosity. He picked things out as he went, some from the list, some not. Gavin grabbed a few things as well, for his place and Richard's. Every stop they made went in similar fashion, Richard roaming for curiosities sake and picking things up as he went. There was one more place they wanted to stop at, to see if it had the specific set of shelves that had been alluding them all day. Richard had picked out two similar ones for the office, but wanted this specific one for his room. They had it bookmarked online in case they couldn't find it while they were out.

The building was massive. Gavin would be surprised if they didn't have what Richard was after. They wandered around, not quite aimlessly, but it didn't seem like they would find what they were after here either unfortunately. Gavin was about to voice as much and suggest they call it a day, when someone spoke up from the other side of Richard. It scared them both, though Gavin was the only one to jump.

"Can I help you and your..." the sales clerk paused, searching for her words as she looked between Gavin and Richard, "partner find anything specific?"

Richard froze for a long while, seeming like he was trying to compose himself. Genuinely confused. He picked his hands up to sign, restarting a number of times before giving up altogether and shooting Gavin a desperate pleading look.

"Oh, uh. No. We're alright thanks." Gavin stumbled over his words in his flustered rush to get them out. It seemed to do the trick though since the sales clerk retreated and they were once again left on their own.

They just stared at each other for a long while. Gavin cracked first, smiling and then breaking into laughter when the awkwardness passed leaving only amused embarrassment in its wake. Richard was smiling, amusement shining in his eyes. What a fucking day.

"Let's head back." Gavin suggested when he had enough control over his air intake to talk again, "we can pick up some food on the way back. Then order the shelves when we get back to your place."

Despite the laugh they'd had about it earlier, Gavin found himself paying more attention to his proximity to Richard the rest of the day. They had a good laugh about it again over dinner, Richard delighting in it now that the initial awkwardness had passed. Gavin did as well, it was funny looking back. That was how the evening went. The two of them talking and having a good time until they were too tired to keep up right.

'Okay,' Richard signed as he stood. 'Bed Time.'

They had been smart enough to clean uo their dinner mess beforehand this time. After Gavin finished his nightly routine he laid down and pulled out his phone to check in with Tina.

Gavin: you'll never guess what happened today!

Pocket Police: something funny i take it

Gavin: Richard and I got mistaken for a couple today

Pocket Police: how did that go

Gavin: we've been having a good laugh about it

Gavin: just thought I'd let you know

Gavin: night T

Pocket Police: sleep well

Once again Gavin woke up to Richard in the kitchen and roused with less confusion than the day before. He stretched and made his way to the kitchen, following the smell off coffee. The same mugs as yesterday were out on the counter, clean and ready to be used.

"Morning." Gavin mumbled, just this side of coherent as he leaned against the counter, "today's the day. Are you excited?"

'Morning,' Richard parroted with a smile. Ever the fucking morning person. He nodded in answer to Gavin's question knowing that this would be the extent of the conversation until he got coffee into his system.

They didn't have as solid of a plan of attack for today, no lists to follow, just the general goal of getting the place into a state Richard was comfortable living in. Gavin's first order of business after he'd gotten coffee into his system was to clean up the livingroom since it had been his home the past couple of days. After that he would go wherever Richard needed him.

The coffee finished and like yesterday Richard poured both mugs then slid Gavin's toward him. Gavin added cream to it and then took a drink letting out a content hum. Richard let out an amused sound and rolled his eyes lifting his mug in a mock toast.

"Look. One of us can't function before eleven in the morning." Gavin complained between drinks of coffee, "its not my fault you can't wake up at a normal time."

'Waking Up Afternoon Not Normal.' Richard signed, and then had the nerve to fucking wink. God damn morning person.

"Richard. Its the weekend." Gavin remarked, gesturing with his free hand, "its practically against the law to wake up early on the weekend."

'Yet Here You Are,' he signed like he was making a point. 'Awake Early Sunday Morning.'

"Okay, no need to be so damn smug," Gavin said with a tired laugh, "you've made your point."

'Have I?' He signed with a faint smile along with a raised eyebrow.

Gavin flipped him off for lack of a better argument. Richard rolled his eyes again, but they were alight with amusement, and Gavin had a smile of his own to match. After he finished his coffee he cleaned his cup out and set it on the dish mat to dry.

"Alright, I'm going to start by cleaning up my shit from the livingroom," Gavin gestured in the direction of the couch. "Then where do you want me?"

'My Room.' Richard responded, finishing his own coffee and going through the same motions as Gavin.

Gavin made his way to the livingroom, packing up his mess and putting his things back into his duffle bag. Next he took the sheets and blanket off the pull out and stepped into the bathroom with the bundle of fabric. He set it down and opened the washing machine, he untangled the mass of blankets and loaded them into the machine. With that done he went back out to the livingroom and set about putting away the pull out bed. Doing it by himself wasn't a pleasant experience, but Richard was busy and Gavin didn't want to bother him. With the bed finally tucked away and the couch cushions back in place, the last thing that needed to be replaced was the coffee table which he handled with ease.

Having finished in the livingroom he turned and headed down the hall, stopping in the bathroom to check the laundry he had set to run. Making his way to Richard's he knocked on the doorframe before stepping inside.

"What," Gavin started from a few feet into the room, "are you doing?"

Gavin felt that it was an appropriate question since he'd come in to find one of Richard's closet doors halfway disconnected from the frame with said man sitting on the floor presumably trying to finish the job. Richard looked over his shoulder at Gavin and seemed quite proud of himself. He freed a hand from whatever he was doing to the bottom of the door and gestured to the whole of it like that somehow explained everything.

"Okay," Gavin continued, acting as though he understood this impromptu round of charades, "and you're taking the door off its hinges because why exactly?"

Richard let out a sigh that was just this side of annoyed. He moved so that he was facing Gavin, 'I Do Not Like Noise They Make. Help Me.' He emphasized the last bit by pointing at Gavin and then to the remaining door.

"You have a plan of what you're gonna do once they're off?" Gavin asked moving to the other door, he leaned against it and looked at his companion.

'No,' he paused to consider something, 'Do Not Want Them Here.'

"We'll figure it out I guess," he straightened up, "you got anything to make this easier or are we just gonna brute force it."

Richard reached back behind himself and came away with a screwdriver that he held out to Gavin. He took it with a nod of thanks, and turned to get to get to work assuming Richard was doing the same. He'd figured they'd get to this eventually, but if he had known they'd be doing this today he would have asked Tina if he could borrow her truck instead of bringing his bike over. But it was what it was, he could always ask her later.

The doors took a bit of time to get off the frame, and with no way to remove them from the apartment they settled for putting them away in the bathroom closet for the time being. While he was in there Gavin switched the laundry over. The shelves they had ordered wouldn't arrive for another week or so but they got everything else for Richard's room set up.

The room came away with a color palette of bright light blue and a dark matte grey. Gavin liked how it came out, it suited Nines pretty well in his opinion. They moved on to the office next, adding the shelf sets that Richard had picked out. One became designated for books and paperwork, and the other for office supplies and a couple of decorative trinkets. One of those being a porcelain statue of Lucky Cat that Gavin had picked out.

He let Richard do the bathroom himself. The livingroom came next and was by far the most fun. They'd bought some decorative pillows for the couch but apparently decided that a pillow fight would make better use of them. Which was how Gavin found himself backed against the wall with Richard throwing pillows at him with a surprising amount of strength.

"Okay! Okay!" Gavin called in surrender between bouts of laughter, "I'm sorry for smacking you with that pillow, even if you deserved it."

Richard finally relented, accepting Gavin's albeit shitty apology. Gavin began picking up the pillows on the floor around him placing them on the couch. Adding the one he had bought that had "fuck off" stitched into it in cursive purple thread to a spot where it could easily be seen as a finishing touch.

"There, its perfect." Gavin said looking over at Richard with a satisfied smile, "home sweet home."

Richard was wearing his equivalent of Gavin's smile, just smaller but no less genuine, 'Home Sweet Home.'

[watchtower-feed]

Running Hot

Notes: I lied. I didn’t write at all yesterday because I watched a sports anime on running. That’s the origin story of this baby. Also, I needed a break from the angst and write something fun. Words: 1,611

     Waking up in the morning to go jogging on campus is one of the hardest things a student has to work through to build into a habit. But not you. Not when you have a six foot three beefcake acting as your carrot (and hopefully, stick).

     Every morning, at three in the morning, an hour you didn’t know existed until now, Damian Wayne leaves your co-ed dorm to jog around the campus. After he finishes his route through every trail, he heads straight for the varsity gym until his first class at ten.

     You’re not a stalker. You don’t know this because you deliberately sought it out. You came across this information by accident. It was one drunken night where your friends forgot about you and you forgot how to get back to your dorm. So you sat by the park bench in front of the varsity building.

     That was where you first saw him. Sweat lathered limbs that made his muscles shine even in the low light. Shorts short enough to see half his ass. No shirt. And eyes that can pierce through your soul like a real, actual bad boy. Not the leather-wearing kind that smokes their lungs to shit or breaks windowshields and then runs off before the cops arrive.

     No. This boy--- this man looks like he would wait for the cops and stare them down until they agree that yes, he had to do it.

     Once sober and once it’s time for a new dawn, you put on your running shoes (ones you only use when you go grocery shopping) and head out to maybe accidentally run into this perfect hunk. You’re surprised to find the door opening before you even touch it. You look up and right above your head, there’s a strong hand pushing it open.

     You stare at it and follow the tanned muscular limb with your gaze until your eyes meet with dark green eyes setting your skin ablaze. Suddenly, it’s too hot to breathe from your nose alone. You stare and only now realize that he’s crazy tall, close to a head taller than you.

     He’s looking back at you and raises an eyebrow at your stunned figure. You completely lose it. He looks like the bad guy your parents warn you about as teenagers but you go into his van anyway because his eyebrows alone promise the most amazing sex you’ll ever experience on this planet. Maybe even in the entire galaxy.

     “You’re in the way.”

     His voice fits his body perfectly and you wonder if God is a sexually frustrated woman. It’s low and deep, almost guttural, like an animal. Can’t be tamed. Defintely wild and dangerous.

     Like a mute, you keep staring at him and Damian Wayne isn’t known for his patience. He rolls his eyes and steps closer so his foot can hold the door open. Then he grabs hold of your waist, calloused hands and a firm grip, (oh how you wish you were wearing a sports bra or crop top), and lifts you outside, out of the way of the dormitory entrance.

     As soon as he put you down, you cover your face with your hands because you may not see it but you can definitely feel the red on your face. When you look, he’s already gone.

     The next morning, you’re wearing a sports bra and running shorts, and you’re already stretching outside at 2:30 am. You hear kinks and cracks every time you fold your limbs over the other and you wonder if you should do this regularly, at least to keep healthy.

     Finally, at 3:08 am, Damian walks through the doors. His eyes catches yours for a single second before he already breaks into a run. You almost trip as you try to keep up. You’re swearing to yourself as you try to keep up with him. His pace makes you wonder what ever happened to warmups? Or jogging? Why does he have to be running?

     You last 5 minutes before you stop and lose him. You’re wheezing like an asthmatic 6-year-old during his first PE class. “Fuck you, Damian Wayne,” you say out loud.

     The next day you’re already jogging. You take your chances and see if he follows the same path. By 3:11 am he runs past you and you speed up to keep up. You last 8 minutes this time, losing him again.

     You keep doing this every day and you keep asking yourself if you’re a stalker or a madman. Why are you doing this to get Damian Wayne’s attention? Why can’t you just ask him for his number like a normal college student? 

     But this has gone on for too long that you don’t feel like giving up. You just want to finish his whole lap around campus until he enters for the varsity gym. If you do that, if you can finally keep up, then maybe you’ll stop this. And maybe Damian Wayne will ask you out.

     Of course, it’s not easy to get on athlete’s level. Especially if you’re not even an amateur. So it takes you months. At least it’s not half a year, but months of running every single morning is still an insane amount of dedication to chase after a hunk whose eyes can make you cum in an instant. Or is it?

     You shake your head, dispelling such thoughts because the view in front of you is amazing. You’re staring at Damian Wayne’s bare back, chiseled to perfection and ruggedly adorned with long scars that could rival a bear hunter’s marks.

     Then you realize it’s past 4 am. You’re suddenly giddy with excitement and adrenaline because he’s about to head to the varsity gym.

     Suddenly, all happy chemicals in your body leave you as you watch him turn towards the campus border. You stand, breathing loud and annoyed, while watching Damian Wayne continue running on the road until he was out of sight.

     You skip the next day. You lay awake until it’s time for your first class and you go through the day just like any other, but more upset.

     “Gosh, Y/N. Why are you in such a pissy mood? Isn’t exercise supposed to give you happy hormones or something?”

     “It’s called dopamine, dumbass. I almost made it yesterday, okay? But then Damian Wayne decides to change his running route and goes off campus!”

     They chuckle, “You fucking stalker.”

     You hit your friend and pout, “I’m not. This information just came to me.”

     To your further annoyance, they laugh and tease you some more. One of them suddenly stops and stares at someone behind you, and quickly says, “Kind of like how Damian Wayne is coming to you. Right now, Y/N. Like now.” Your friend grabs your shoulders and turns you until you see him standing behind you in his full (and fully clothed) glory, along with some of his varsity friends beside him.

     He looks at you with his arms crossed and he raises one eyebrow. You suddenly ask the god of sexual frustration what you’ve done to anger her.

     “I didn’t see you running this morning.”

     “Oh,” you stammer dumbly because your jaws and mouth muscles have suddenly gone stiff. “Cramps?”

     His eyebrow goes down while the other shoots up. Dear god, he can do it with both of them!

     “Are you asking me?”

     “No! Did I? Did I ask you out?”

     Loud groans flood your table like a tsunami. While his friends snicker loudly.

     “No, I didn’t! Ugh--” you harshly rub your face, trying to wipe off the stupidity you woke up with this morning, “I meant to ask you out--” but it obviously didn’t work. “I’m going to stop talking now.”

     “Promise?” teased one of his friends who’s leaning in over Damian Wayne’s shoulder while holding his stomach, cramped from all the laughing.

     Damian Wayne pushes his face back effortlessly and turns to you with the same deadly serious expression he always seems to have. “So you didn’t run this morning because you were going to ask me out?”

     You sigh. Tired of the groans and chuckling, you decided to come clean. “I’ve been running with you, or more like running behind you, these past couples months because I… Ithinkyou’rehot?”

     He narrows his eyes and leans down, closer, “Telling or asking?”

     You stare at him and you can really see his features now. His protruding cheekbones. His prominent jawline. His annoyingly clear skin. His soft jet black hair. “Definitely telling,” you blurt out. “But I never caught up with you-- obviously-- so I thought-- maybe-- if I--” Goddammit finish an actual sentence before the hot guy leaves. “If I finished your run with you before you go to the gym then maybe I can ask you out.”

     You bite your lips as you eye Damian Wayne and wait for your doom. Your friends are crossing their fingers but definitely invested in such a scene.

     Damian gives this little sigh and a small tilt of his head, as if saying ‘is that all?’ 

     “Yesterday I ran with my brothers at Gotham park. Tomorrow, finish my run with me on campus.” He pauses to look at you, making sure you’re still keeping up because you’re just gaping at him. You nod. “I’ll skip morning practice. We’ll walk to this small diner in the city. My oldest brother calls it ‘a hole in the wall’ because they make all kinds of breakfast foods.”

     You’re still gaping but your mouth has definitely opened wider. Impatiently, Damian uses his rough hands to close it. “Nod if you agree.” You nod. “Good. See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

✧ Watchtower Masterlist ✧

[smallblip]

I see rivers 

Levihan | this one’s pretty PG

They say time is a flowing river, but past the flood and the white waters, Levi knows her as Hanji first. And she hears it in the way he says her name- the words that remain unspoken-

I am yours, I am yours, I am yours.

It’s on Ao3!: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27724813

 Levi knows her as Hanji first. And he hears the things they say about her. She has talent and an intellect that will save mankind. But before she’s promoted to squad leader, she’s Hanji when she first introduces herself to him, eyes bright, grinning like a madman. 

 She’s in the bath when she notices his apprehension. Levi favours stability, but the survey corps runs like a flowing river. The only constant is movement. 

 “You don’t have to call me squad leader...” she says, fingers breaking the surface of the water and watching ripples form by her wriggling toes. “I’m still your Hanji.” She says, so quiet Levi mistakes it for running water. He combs his fingers through her wet hair, untangling the knots. He tries not to dwell on the semantics.

 “Rinse.” 

 And like clockwork, she closes her eyes and slides down the tub. The water laps around her face, tickling her cheeks, she giggles.

 There’s someone at the door for her. Something needs attending to. But she’s Hanji first, and the sound of water drowns out the knocking.

  ≋

  Hanji knows him as Levi first, he introduces himself with the mononym and she’s in awe when she watches him fight. It has taken her years of training to get where she is, but Levi is fueled by pure instinct. Even so, she gets to know him, sometimes she knows him better than she knows herself. 

 Hanji soothes over the sharp edges of his words and presents them how he intends. She wants the world to see him as she does. Wants them to know the depths of his heart. But when he’s alone with her, he smiles easier, laughs at the silly things she says. And Hanji's happy keeping those moments of sublimity to herself. She’s happy knowing his soul comes alive at her touch- a spectacle for her alone to witness.

 Hanji knows he’s tired. She sees how the others rely on him to make the kill. Fear does things to people, and many choose to take refuge where Levi casts a shadow. Levi's face gives nothing away when Erwin promotes him to Captain. 

 Hanji only uses the name once in jest, when he’s making a face at the fawning. But later in her room, he’s just Levi. He’s Levi as he leans his head against her shoulder and falls into a deep slumber for the first time in a long while. 

  ≋

  And the river rages on, coursing with a vengeance. It takes Nanaba with it, then Mike, then the entirety of Levi’s squad. 

 Those who survive sink to the bottom of the river bed like rocks, they wash against each other in an abrasive dance.

 But when Hanji finds him in the forest relief washes over her. Later she bandages his leg and tells him stories of Nanaba and Mike when they were recruits. And she tells him how much Petra adores him, how much Oluo looks up to him, how she overhears Gunther telling the younger recruits stories about him, how Eld had defended his name against the Military Police that one drunken night in the bar. With her fingers carding through his hair, she absolves him of his guilt. 

 “I’m happy you’re alive Levi...” she says, with enough force to silence a river. 

  ≋

  Humanity’s strongest bears a weight on his shoulders. And he’s been living up to expectations with mechanical precision. But even then, Captain Levi bleeds red.

 “I’m sorry...” 

 “I’m not.” Hanji says, resolute. There’s a smile on her face that tells him she knows, and that he doesn't need to say anything else. “You gave your best Levi.” 

 “I couldn’t...” 

 Couldn’t protect your squad. Couldn’t stop them from getting killed.

 He’s not made of metal and forged in fire. He’s Levi now, so vulnerable it makes her ache. Hanji tells him his name over and over and wills him into being. She tells him his body is made of dying stars, an intentional weave of chemicals and stardust. 

 And that she is happy he is alive.

 That a star gave its life so he can be here; so they can be here. Safe in each other’s arms. And if even the stars are acquainted with temporality, maybe it is that which makes life so beautiful. 

 She doesn’t tell him that she dreams of Nifa, of Keiji, of the others. Because he’s there rubbing circles into her back when she jolts awake at night. 

  She’s here with Levi now, and her fear fades into the shadows. Her fingers extend like vines, pulling him close, the sheets feel like the earth beneath her skin. And she feels, in her arms, the warmth of the sun, a star, the brightest of them all.

  ≋

  Levi finds her in the eye of the storm that has manifested around her. Upturned tables, broken chairs, and Hanji in the middle of it, fists clenched, breathing ragged. 

  "Goddam mess." He says as he sets the tables upright and piles up the broken chairs to be used as firewood. She helps when she realises he’s in the room. 

 He holds her hand and guides her away when they’re done and he draws a bath. She undresses with the compliance of a wounded animal cornered into submission. But she’s surprised when Levi joins her. It displaces some water and it splashes onto the floor. She sits, back against him, and pulls her knees to her chest. He works wordlessly on her hair, fingers massaging into her scalp, the bath water licking at the blood against their skin in an attempt at purification. It’s not their blood. Not a titan’s either. It makes Hanji feel filthy in a way she’s never felt before. 

 “Rinse.” 

 She closes her eyes and lowers herself against him. He makes way. Before she opens her eyes again, she feels the warm press of lips against her forehead. But when she opens her eyes, Levi is already reaching for the soap. There’s a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, and she’s turning to face him, hands reaching to run soap in his hair. 

 “Your turn.” 

  ≋

  They learn to smile and laugh again. These are the little moments that remind them that they are breathing. The new recruits are grown now, hurried along by a world turned on its head. It seems ridiculous to deny them some alcohol. So they drink, to anything they can think of drinking to. 

 To the dead, to the living,  To vengeance, to love, and loving.

 Hanji is laughing at something Connie said from across the room, and Levi doesn’t ever want to see her otherwise. But they are soldiers on the frontline of a world gone to shits, so he commits her laughter to memory instead. For now, they’re tucked in the corner of the mess, holding hands under the table out of habit, where no one can see.

 She only lets go of his hand when she spots Jean and Eren fighting. 

 “It’s your turn with the kids, Levi!”

  ≋

  Between stolen touches when everyone is sleeping, the brush of fingertips when they are back to back in the battlefield , and the little glances when they pass in the hallways, between death upon death upon decay, Hanji becomes the new commander. 

 Later in the night Hanji lets him tend to her eye. She catches the look on his face.

 “It’s gross huh...” she knows, from how much it’s hurting. A reminder of what she has lost to get where she is. The people she’s lost to get where she is.

 “No more than you usually are.” He says and she’s chuckling. 

 “I guess you can’t call me four eyes anymore...”

 “Didn’t think it would be appropriate now that you’re Commander.” He says, and there’s hurt on her face. He remembers that this is his doing. He thinks about Erwin in his last moments and wonders if someone will make the same decision for them- to let the river take them. If that had been the right decision to make in the first place. 

 “Please...” she says like a whisper, “not you...” 

 Levi murmurs an apology. He pulls the sheets over them, her head on his chest, wet hair splayed on fevered skin. 

 “I’m still your Hanji.” She says, more for herself than anyone, and it breaks the silence like a storm. Terrible things have always happened in bad weather. But even when it’s thundering outside and the windows are far too worn to keep the wind out, Levi can’t deny that he has always loved the rain.

 He remembers hearing the explosion, and him asking for her. He remembers Erwin telling him to focus on the mission. But the thing about living on the margins of heaven and hell- how easily the mind conjures up images of death. He remembers then, the relief washing over him when he sees her on the roof. He says her name like an affliction.

 He kisses her forehead as she’s falling asleep to thunder rolling in the distance. 

“I’m happy you’re alive Hanji...”

 ≋

  Another year has passed. Hanji tells him the names of the flowers in Spring and they ride out to see the sea for the first time.

 Levi tells her to be careful. He grabs her cloak in case she falls, and later he laces their fingers together. In case she falls, he tells himself.

 They settle to the bottom of the riverbed- smooth and polished from the years that have gone, anticipating when the current will take them again. 

 By the candlelight, Levi looks younger, spared the fatigue of fighting. And Hanji is getting better at catching the moments when the guilt seeps back into his system. She holds him closer then.

 And in the moments when Hanji lets responsibility take on a form that’s almost metaphorical- the meaning itself to a life that’s cruel and brutish- Levi holds her closer. He traces over the keloids on her skin. He removes the patch on her eye and brushes his thumb over the scar, a white line of taut skin, like a silk cocoon. 

 Levi knows this is stolen time, that they’re ever at the mercy of the river. But nights like these he wants to search for calmer waters, to set foot on land again and watch the water from the banks. He thinks of Hanji with him, body moulded perfectly against his like they are now. They watch the glimmer of the river flowing out to sea.

 “When the time comes... Promise me you’ll let me go.” She says. Their foreheads are pressed together and Levi breathes her in, he takes in every word, how acrid they taste. He thinks about all the moments he nearly lost her. The world has taken everything from him. He begs an unnamed god every time they ride beyond the walls-

 Not Hanji, not Hanji please.

 It makes his stomach sink. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t protest because he knows, even though together they are whole, she’s Hanji first. 

 “You gotta dedicate your heart Levi...” she teases, placing a fist on his chest. She knows the whole Commander shtick doesn’t suit her. But she’s laughing and suddenly she’s young again, airy and playful. And Levi thinks there’s beauty even when they’re so far from the safety of shore. There’s beauty in the white rush of water and the capriciousness of the weather. 

 "Tch... Four Eyes..." Levi rolls his eyes and Hanji doesn’t point out that he’s smiling.  

 He presses a kiss on Hanji’s lips, no different from their other less urgent kisses- soft and gentle and the accompanying warmth blossoming in the sanctuary of ribs.

 But despite words unspoken, Levi knows he has already dedicated his heart. 

He is Levi first. A boy who only has a name to call his own. He is Levi who swears an oath and keeps it till his dying breath. 

 But there moments of being that are infinitely more beautiful. Moments that beckon to him with the defiance of home in a world with all the permanence of a flowing river. The moments that have his heart.

 He is Levi when she calls his name in the thick of battle, and in the forgiving lull of the night. And he is Levi when she presses her palms over his chest and smiles when she feels the steady pulse of blood through his veins. 

  It beats with a defiance against the rapids, a steady thrum that calls out to her. Hanji's eyes flutter open at the touch of his hand against her cheek, the beginnings of a smile on her face. And everything left unsaid settles like dust around them. But she hears it when his hands snake around her in the bath, the water warm and inviting. In the way he presses kisses along her spine. She hears it loudest when he says her name-

 I am yours, I am yours, I am yours.

 "Rinse." 

[heroloverangel]

A Nice, Clean Shower

Present Mic and his girlfriend enjoy a shower together and nothing dirty happens, I swear!

Living with a pro hero means that your life isn’t always peaceful and quiet. That goes double when you’re living with one as loud and energetic as Present Mic. You’re halfway through a nice, hot shower when you hear a frenzied commotion tear through your home. Before you can call out, the bathroom door flies open. Cold air hits your naked body as the shower curtain is yanked back, revealing your boyfriend frantically stripping off the last of his clothes and practically diving under the water.

“Get ‘em off me, get ‘em off me, get ‘em off me, get ‘em-”

Startled, you grip his shoulders and try to make sense of what you’re seeing. “Hizashi! What’s wrong? Weren’t you helping Aizawa with his students’ finals?”

He nods, calming down enough to explain. “The kids. Put bugs. All over me.”

To your credit, you try very hard not to laugh at his misfortune. “Oh, honey. I bet that really freaked you out.” You give him a comforting smile, then reach up and rescue the small animal that’s still clinging to his hair for dear life. Yamada, an actual grown man who fights villains for a living, looks at the tiny insect and lets out a high-pitched squeak of panic. You roll your eyes, carefully stepping out of the bath to deposit it a cup for release later. Making sure to drip water onto his costume as you return, you adjust the curtain back to its proper place. “It’s a ladybug, you baby.”

He pouts, trying to hide his embarrassment with pure energy. “You’ve saved my life, babe. You’re my hero tonight.” You playfully push him back, resuming your previous activity. You’d only gotten one leg shaved before he came sprinting in like a madman, and prop the other one on the edge of the tub to finish the job. You’re not aware of the view you give Hizashi as you bend over to move the razor across your skin, but he’s definitely grateful for the sight. In fact, it’s enough to bring his personality screaming back to normal.

Your task complete, you straighten up to set the razor down and find a pair of hands immediately at your waist, pressing you forward against the cold tile. There’s a mischievous glint in those green eyes when you look back at him, a toothy smile that you fall for every time as he leans down to kiss you. “You really are the best, you know that?”

“Yeah, but tell me again,” you laugh. His lips are all over you, drifting across your cheek and down your neck where he knows you’re vulnerable. “Mmm. Look who’s confident now.” He’s had enough of your taunting, squeezing a hand between you and the wall to grope your breast. The hot water’s made your skin more sensitive, and your nipple hardens instantly the moment he circles it with a long finger. He gives it a quick pinch and you cry out, and his tongue slides into your open mouth. You can’t help moaning into him, feeling his dick growing hard against your rear. “Careful, there might be another ladybug crawling around the shower,” you cackle.

“Keep up the attitude and I’ll have to find something to fill your mouth,” he warns, eyebrows raising suggestively. You grin; you’d be perfectly happy to call his bluff but his hands feel so good on your chest right now. “I love playing with these tits,” he groans into your ear, kneading them until you’re squirming against the wall. It’s his turn to tease, dragging hisses and whines out of that smart mouth of yours as he squeezes your chest and peppers quick nips and kisses along your throat. “Make some noise for me, baby.” He bites down sharply on your shoulder and you yelp in surprise. You feel his cock, fully hard against your ass and you grind against him.

“Hizashi, be nice,” you groan and he snorts, long fingers dragging down your damp skin to circle your navel.

His lps trail over the mark he’s left. “Oh, you’re in the mood to play fair now?” His hand slides lower, dipping teasingly close to your pussy and he laughs at the sigh you let out. “You gonna be good for me?” You nod eagerly and know that he’s grinning widely from his place behind you.

“Touch me, I want-” Your request is cut off when his other hand grips your chin and angles your head back for a deep kiss. You’re distracted for a moment and caught off-guard as those talented fingers snake down to rub over your clit and you break away from his mouth with a shudder. “There, please.”

“That’s my girl,” he smirks, stroking at you until you’re writhing in his arms. “You want me to put it in, baby?” You’re very aware of the dick pressing up along your back and take a deep breath to calm yourself. You brace your hands against the wall for support and flash him a smile that’s wickedly appealing. His fingers grab at your hip to position you for himself then slip down to brush along your wet cunt. “You get off so easy for me, sweetheart. It’s great.”

“Hizashi, don’t make me wait,” you pout, wiggling in front of him impatiently. You squeal as a hand slaps your ass hard, offering him a pleasing little jiggle.

Mic only laughs at you again. “You’ve got such a great ass, you know I can’t help it.” You face away from him to the tile wall and hear him fumbling behind you. “Here, lemme make it up to you.” Without another word, you feel the tip of his cock slowly move between your thighs and press into you. He thrusts slowly, working himself into your welcoming body until he’s fully sheathed inside you. “You like that, huh?”

“Y-yeah, I love it,” you moan, arching your back to give him a nice view of your body. Making sure to plant his feet firmly on the bath mat--he’s learned too well from that mistake in the past--he finally begins to fuck you with his usual energy. “You feel so good in me, honey.”

“I know, babe.” He leans forward, his long hair tickling your skin as he resumes his hobby of peppering your neck with kisses. He smiles into you, that dorky little mustache of his itching against your shoulder. “Your pussy always squeezes me so good, it’s perfect.”

It’s suddenly far too warm in your little shower. “Dirty pervert,” you pant, turning away to hide your flustered expression.

Mic makes a sound of disappointment and tilts your face back to meet his eyes. “Don’t lie, you love it when I talk like this.”

“I do...mmmmf-” His tongue’s in your mouth before you can get out a response. You let him overwhelm you, eyes slipping closed to savor the moment. “Hizashi…”

“You’re taking my dick so good,” he growls in your ear, and the needy tone in his voice makes you whine. You’re being pressed harder into the wall, sandwiched between his warm body and the cold tile of the shower and you shiver at the contrast. Yamada groans behind you, his hips speeding up and you have very little choice but to follow his pace. “Don’t be shy, baby.”

You moan louder than you mean to, clenching around his cock like a vise. “M-maybe I don’t mind it…” you admit with a small smile creeping onto your face.

He picks up on your mood immediately and continues. “You’re so fucking hot when you’re like this. Acting like you’re so sweet and innocent while your cunt’s practically begging me to tell you how much of a filthy brat you are.”

You can’t even pretend that you don’t enjoy every word out of his mouth by now and can’t resist goading him on. “Am I a dirty slut, hero?”

You feel his cock throb inside you and he thrusts back in hard. You cry out for him but don’t miss his reply. “You’re my dirty slut, and you love it.” He slaps your ass again and relishes the way your pussy milks him for more. “Tell me you want my cum, like the good little whore you are for me.”

You only consider denying him for a moment, then his calloused fingers sneak to your front to massage your sensitive clit and you know you’ve lost. “God, I want it. Come in me.” The steady rhythm of his hips falters, and as he pushes you into your orgasm you’re determined to bring him along with you. “Please, Hizashi. Fill up my cunt.”

You get your wish, warm and messy and satisfying between your shaky thighs. You’re both loud, neither of you able to say anything beyond mindless gibberish, but between all the fucks and wows and love yous you get the point. You pull yourself together enough to quickly clean up, the now-cold water of the shower a welcome relief after all your fun.

Mic sits on the edge of the tub, trying to wring the excess water out of his long hair while you get dressed. You soak up the compliments as he praises you for improving his mood so much and you remember why he barged into the bathroom earlier. Curious, you peek into the cup you’d grabbed before and speak without thinking.

“Oh. The ladybug escaped.”

His scream leaves your ears ringing for the next three days.

[marie-dufresne]

Little Shooting Star

🧬 Main Verse Page 🧬

Little Shooting Star: It’s time for science, and healthy little interns make excellent test subjects.

Marie had found a rhythm down in the laboratory. Since she wasn’t actively involved in any research, she had taken it upon herself to ensure the professor was well taken care of, as he didn’t seem to have any interest in doing it himself.

At six, six-thirty, seven, seven-thirty, and eight, she presented him with a fresh cup of coffee. Between the hours of seven and eleven, she refilled his water every forty-five minutes. At noon, tea accompanied take-out lunch. Water until two. From two to five, she alternated water and coffee on the half-hour. At six, another take-out meal served with either cola or whiskey depending on the progression of his day. Then it was water every forty minutes until eight, where she put on a pot of coffee, placed his clean mug next to his diary, and left for the night.

On Mondays she re-stocked the cabinet with cigarettes. She couldn’t stand the stench of the things, but it was not her place to tell him to quit so instead, she made herself busy emptying out his ashtray as often as she could. This also allowed her to count how many he’d had, and be at the ready to switch out his empty pack for a fresh one without him ever having to move from his task or pat his coat and mumble, ‘the fuck are my smokes?’

It was a system that worked. She stayed out of everyone’s way while still being useful. Hojo would never admit to being impressed, but he found himself moving in sync with her, despite his days being largely unstructured to begin with. Perhaps having an intern wasn’t the worst thing that had been foisted upon him.

A few months into her tenure with him, he found himself on a stool in his office, a small side project having failed its first go. With his legs up on the highest rungs, he pursed his lips, staring at a severed arm on a tray, watching the liquid he’d dropped into the gash he’d cut…do absolutely nothing at all.

He gave a little grunt. How disappointing.

Marie appeared in the office then, right on time with a steaming coffee. He almost ignored her, but the underside her arm caught his eye.

“How much do you know about cell regeneration?”

She laughed, completely unfazed by the decaying arm before her. (It wasn’t the first time.)

“Nothing? Come on, professor,” she teased, taking his long hair in her hand, gently twisting the ponytail around her wrist before returning it to his back with a flourish, “you know that.”

Hojo spun on the stool, taking hold of that hand and feeling the silky flesh of her wrist. She was always touching him. Why?

“It’s time for a lesson,” he decided, his grip tightening as he pulled her over to the table and pressed her arm down, yanking her slightly while he brought up two leather straps to secure the appendage in place. His concoction hadn’t worked on the dead. Perhaps on the living.

Marie was easy to overpower, easy to stun, and found herself unable to resist being restrained and she stood, slightly hunched over the steel table, eyes wide. Why would he need to restrain her?

“All living things are able to regenerate to some degree,” he began, pushing the severed arm out of the way and presenting her with an amber bottle of swirling fluid, “let’s see if we can help the process along, hm?”

“…what?”

He ignored her soft concern and gestured to the bottle. “That there is liquid Cure. Or at least a prototype of it. You and I are going to work together to see if it works. Since you aren’t equipped to use materia, consider this compensation for your participation. If it is successful, of course.”

Her….participation?

“I don’t…I don’t understand. Materia is magic. How can you just put it in a bottle?!”

An annoyed brow piqued at her question and he swiped a recording device from his desk before thrusting his face barely an inch from hers.

“There is no such thing as magic, Fuzzy. Only incompetent idiots who can’t grasp the concept science will tell you otherwise.”

He didn’t give her a chance to question him further, pressing a button on the device and turning from her.

“Liquid Cure test number two. Subject is living. Human female in her late teens, generally healthy with no known defects…”

Marie pulled at her arm, trying to free it from the straps, and the leather cut into her skin, the friction of the raw edge unkind against the tender flesh.

“I—I’m not a test subject!” she protested, shoes slipping against the polished concrete, giving her no footing. How many times had she been told to wear rubber soles?

“Everyone is a test subject,” he replied, an offhanded remark as he pulled open a drawer, retrieving a fresh scalpel and lowering himself to his chair, rolling over to where he’d trapped her. “Life itself is an experiment, isn’t it?”

Eyes wide, Marie’s gaze darted from the blade to his face, back and forth, trying to decide whether he was playing a cruel prank on her or if he actually intended on cutting her open. He seemed serious, scooting his chair over before he stood, adjusting his glasses slightly as he peered over at her arm.

“A little bit of advice to you, since ladies are so fond of exsanguination. Should you ever feel the desire to make an attempt on your life, you’ll end it far quicker if you travel down the road—“ he trailed a fingertip down the length of her exposed arm, giving her a little smirk before he made a little pass across her wrist, “—than across.”

What? …was he giving her…suicide tips?

 Her throat got tight and she tried wiggling again, shaking her head so violently, she might as well have been vibrating.

“I don’t want to do this,” she told him, chin wobbling as the tears built up along her lashline, spilling over and leaving ugly tracks as they fell. “I don’t—no, no, this is not—this is not my job.”

Hojo let out a little breath of air through his nose, turning to look up at her, undeterred by her tears.

“Whether it’s your job or not doesn’t matter to me. I have an opportunity, so I’m taking it. Now hold still and don’t scream. I have a headache.”

His hand was on her arm then, ignoring the way she thrashed against the restraints and her pleas for him to stop. Every ‘sir’ or ‘no’ or ‘please’ fell on deaf ears, his eyes focused only on the limb beneath his blade. He wasn’t the reckless madman she was no doubt painting him as. He knew where to cut safely, how to cut safely and, if he hadn’t successfully liquified Cure, how to stitch her up so she wouldn’t bleed out. She was perfectly safe, even if the blood spilling up over her arm and pooling on the steel beneath her suggested otherwise.

Satisfied with the incision, he reached over for the bottle. “Stop moving,” he warned, “you’ll die faster if you keep panicking.”

Marie felt one of her fingernails crack right down the middle, so strong was her grip on the lip of the table she was confined to. She obeyed, perhaps more out of shock than anything else, eyes fixated on the sight of her own mutilation before her, desperately trying to make an excuse for it.

It was for science. For science. For science. If they were successful, if he was successful, they could help people with this discovery. It would be a good thing.

Clenching her fist, she squeezed her eyes shut when he reached for the bottle, and prepared for anything worse than the searing pain shooting up her arm. What she felt instead, was cold. It was a pleasant cold, like drinking iced water after chewing a minty stick of gum, or the soothing chill of menthol gel on a congested chest. It tingled slightly, like the way a limb comes back after being asleep and she opened her eyes, fist still clenched beneath the leather straps.

“Well look at that.”

Her arm was…fine. Bloodied, but in tact again. The professor ran his hand over the soft flesh, feeling for the wound, rubbing at it to find weakness, but even he quirked a brow and gave a satisfied hum.

Marie couldn’t find it in herself to speak. She was unable to move, to think, to comprehend what she was seeing. It seemed more to her than she’d imagined everything. It was far easier to believe that she’d hallucinated the incision than it was to believe her body had simply healed itself within seconds.

She didn’t register him unbuckling the straps and freeing her arm, or the wet cloth he tossed at her. Ten minutes passed by and not a single muscle in her body had moved. She wasn’t thinking. Her existence was floating somewhere else, somewhere out of tune with her surroundings, and it wasn’t until Hojo took hold of her chin, forcing her to look at him that she came back.

Her lips moved, but just barely, in a small whisper that tried to be ‘what?’, but died quickly on her tongue.

“I said, clean up.”

She turned back to the table, her neck moving in a mechanical, rusted manner, taking in the blood that coated her skin, drying and caking around an invisible wound but from there, was unable to do anything else.

Hojo pursed his lips, a short breath of annoyance huffing out his nose. Her stomach was strong. He appreciated that. Her mind, however, he found lacking. She was in shock, and there wasn’t much to be done about it now.

He kicked his chair over to her, pushing her down into it and shook his head, swiping up the cloth and returning to the sink. Fine. He’d do the cleaning then. It was just a little blood.

Honey, not vinegar.

He cleaned the table first. It was easy work and done quickly, sanitized, and like new. The beauty of metal. He nudged a second chair over with his foot, catching himself as he plopped onto it, then scooted over to his assistant, taking her arm in his hand as he began to tend to the steadily drying stickiness on her arm.

“You…you did well,” he told her, rubbing the burgundy from the little light hairs on her forearm, “and…you’re fine now. You’re going to be fine.”

Or at least he thought she could be. Who knew what side effects she could suffer from. Not many, he predicted.

She relaxed a bit, blinking and watching him tend to her, before she heaved a sigh. Good, she was coming around.

“I probably would have said yes.”

Hojo looked up, taking in the murky splotches of makeup beneath her eyes and on her cheeks, realizing he’d never seen her any less than put together until now.

“If you had just asked,” she clarified, “If you had asked to try it out on me…it would have been easier.”

He let out a small chuckle, wheeling back to the sink and wetting a new cloth. So lost in his enthusiasm, he hadn’t even considered asking. Easier to beg forgiveness and all. Not that he had any intention of begging her forgiveness, but if she had denied his request, having forced her into the experiment regardless would likely have bit him in the ass afterwards.

“Well I’ll remember that next time,” he mused, rolling back to her and lifting the damp cloth up to her cheek, wiping away the smudges.

“I don’t want to think about a next time right now,” she admitted, one little corner of her mouth turning up just a hair, “I’m all scienced out.”

He nodded, understanding. He supposed he had acted a bit rashly. He’d grown accustomed to the way she made things work for him. He’d grown spoiled; he wouldn’t jeopardize it just yet.

“Go ahead and go home for the day,” he suggested, pressing the bottle into her hand and curling her fingers around it, “rest up and call if anything unusual happens.”

She was staring again and he dipped his head, conceding, “…whenever you’re ready.”

He placed a cup of water down on the table, then resumed his work. She left shortly after, bidding him good afternoon and stopping to be sure there was a fresh pot of coffee on for him to retrieve in her absence.

There was silence for the better part of the rest of his day, the hours spent arranging data, calculating, and projecting. It wasn’t until somewhere after nine that the phone rang and he answered without much of a thought.

“…professor? It’s Marie.”

The assistant? He perked up a bit. He hadn’t expected a phone call from her, truth be told. Cure was a pretty reliable materia and liquifying it hadn’t exactly been rocket science. Something no one else had yet managed to accomplish, but still a simple enough process.

“Ah…good evening, Fuzzy. Is everything alright?”

There was silence on the other line for a moment, and a little bit of rustling. He heard the jingle of keys.

“I’m coming back,” she told him, “there’s….there’s something you need to see.”

“Oh?”

“Sir I’m…glowing.”

She arrived within twenty minutes, and he found amusement in the way she barely scanned her badge in before she came bursting through the doors—the exact opposite of how she’d left. There was a smile on her face now, wonder in her eyes, and when she reached him, she took him by the hand, pulling him into his office and shutting the door behind them.

“Look,” she breathed, holding out her arm to him and grinning as she flicked off the light, exposing a hundred or so little aquamarine dots twinkling beneath her skin, dancing along the length of where the incision had been.

This was a surprise. It had…separated during the moments of curing, leaving behind traces of pure mako trapped beneath. It wasn’t much, probably not enough exposure to cause her too much long term harm, but he’d monitor her regardless. It would be interesting to see—the long term effects of constant minimal exposure.

“You really are a wonderful specimen,” he marveled, taking her arm and examining it in the darkness, how vividly the mako shone through, “my little shooting star.”

He couldn’t see it, but she smiled.

She didn’t realize, but he felt the way her heart quickened at the affectionate words.

[awkwardpenguinproductions]

Stealth Chapter 1: The Prank

Part 5 of the Dragon of the Yuyan

Read on AO3 | Series Masterpost

The first time is because of a prank.

It’s Zuko’s second summer in Pouhai, his first as a cadet Yuyan Archer. Chihese Squad is strolling down the main drag of the closest colony town, on 48-hour leave for the Summer Solstice. It’s the first time that Zuko’s been out of the Stronghold for anything other than training since his arrival, the first time he’s been in an actual town since he was kicked out of the Caldera. The sights and sounds and smells are overwhelming, but not nearly as much as the crowds.

There are so many people at this festival. Which, okay, the Summer Solstice is basically the event of the Fire Nation calendar, being the longest day of the year and the day Agni granted firebending to the Dragons, so obviously everyone is going to want to join in the festivities, but Zuko can't remember having been around this many people ever.

Kai never lets go of his hand as he drags Zuko from food stall to musician to puppet show. There are firebending displays, and stalls full of crafts and decorations for sale. Everyone around is dressed in their best robes, and everything is a profusion of shades of red and yellow and black.

Zuko pulls Kai to a stop in front of a booth displaying stuffed cloth animals, and they spend a while petting them and poking each other with soft cloth beaks and snouts and flippers and quizzing each other on the hand-language signs for them. One such creature, a turtle-duckling with creamy tan markings and a brilliant green shell, seems to call to Zuko, and he picks it up and runs his fingertips gently over its head. It fits perfectly in his hand, just the right size to slip into a rucksack and not take up too much space, and for the first time in over a year his chest tightens and his eyes burn with the force of his longing for home and his mother's garden and the turtle-duck pond. Without even thinking, he cuddles the turtle-duckling to himself and turns to Kai.

Nice, Kai complements him with a large grin. You gonna get it?

Zuko nods, and turns to the booth's proprietor, holding out the turtle-duck and giving the man his best puma kitten eyes.

"Take it easy with those eyes, kid," he laughs. "Normally the plushes that size are ten copper, but I'll let ya have it for five. Solstice spirit and all."

Zuko grins and hands over the five copper coins. They bow to each other with the Flame, and then Zuko and Kai head off to meet up with the rest of the squad for dinner, the turtle-duck firmly clasped against Zuko's chest.

They catch up to Hiroki, Mika, and Jiyoti sitting in a square filled with tables and ringed with food booths. All three have cups of Solstice punch, a deep red drink made with coconut arrack and red wine. Kai attempts to swipe Jiyoti's cup, but she easily slaps his hand away.

Go get your own, leech, she commands, ignoring his pout.

Me too? Zuko asks.

No. Hiroki's fingers and thumb snap shut in a sharp emphatic movement as he frowns deeply at Zuko. You're too young.

This is strong stuff, Zuko, Mika signs with more gentleness, her expression sympathetic but firm. Maybe in a couple of years.

What did you get? Jiyoti asks, peering at the turtle-duck plush perched on Zuko's head. Zuko graciously allows the subject change, brushing off the tabletop in front of him and placing the turtle-duck on it. His face heats a little bit, because he's nearly fifteen, too old for stuffed toys, but Jiyoti's eyes are sparkling as she asks permission to pet it, and Mika has a soft, indulgent smile on her face like he's done something cute, and even Hiroki's smirk is gentle and warm as he leans back in his seat and nurses his cup.

At that moment, Zheng and his cronies, twins Shiori and Takeshi, pass by their table. Zheng takes one look at Zuko's turtle-duck and sneers. Aw, does the little baby street-rat need someone to cuddle with? He signs, making a gross kissy-face like he's talking to an infant. Maybe the Commander should've sent you to an orphanage with the other unwanted colony spawn. At least there you'd have fit in with the other brats.

Shut up and get lost, Zheng! Kai snaps out, gritting his teeth in a silent snarl at the older private.

Zheng smirks and raises his hands to continue signing, but Hiroki turns and pins the younger man with a glare. I believe you were on your way, Private? He signs slowly and clearly, as though Zheng is stupid and barely able to comprehend hand-speech. Zheng's jaw clenches, but he's not stupid enough to try anything against a Captain, and he storms off with a huff, the twins following in his wake.

Zuko hugs the turtle-duck to his chest and stares down at its eyes, embroidered in shiny black silk thread. He really is entirely too old for toys, and has been for years, but the thought of giving up his new companion is too much to contemplate. Aside from his dagger from Uncle, it's his only link to his life Before. Life Before had been hard, and lonely, and painful, but there had been good things, too, like Uncle's tearoom, Mom's garden, and the turtle-ducks in the pond. Life Now is so much better, even with idiots like Zheng bugging him, but he still sometimes misses those good things from Before.

Someone pokes Zuko in the shoulder, and he looks up to see Kai grinning at him. So what're you going to name it? The older boy asks, gently rubbing the turtle-duck's head with a fingertip.

Zuko looks at the brilliant green cloth of the turtle-duck's shell, and thinks of the brilliant green leaves that some of the food vendors wrap meat and fish in before grilling, and spells out P-a-n-d-a-n.

The squad finishes their drinks, and Zuko and Kai have a quick rice-cake eating contest which ends in a tie when the rice-cake seller refuses to give them any more. They stroll through the festival together, and Mika and Hiroki take turns grabbing Kai's collar to prevent him from running off after whatever happens to catch his eye. They find an excellent spot to watch the Lion-Turtle and Dragon dances, and Zuko's face hurts with all of his grinning. Pandan the Turtle-Duck is tucked securely under his collar where he can see the dances as well.

After the festival fireworks finish echoing over the town, the squad wanders its way back towards the Stronghold, riding the flow of humanity away from the main drag of the town. Very quickly the crushing press of so many people rubs Zuko's last nerve, and he grabs Kai and drags him over next to a closing stall to wait out the crowds. They amuse themselves (and the stall's owner who watches them with an air of tolerant bemusement) by trying on masks and trying to scare each other.

Hey Danger Noodle, check this out! Kai signs, and holds up a mask painted with blue lacquer and dominated by a wide creepy grin edged with sharp-looking tusks.

Wow, that's so creepy looking! Zuko exclaims, taking the mask from Kai and holding it up to his face. Kai's eyes go wide, and then narrow in a sly grin.

Spirits, I wouldn't want to meet this thing somewhere dark and spooky.

Zuko knows that look, and answers it with his own narrow-eyed glare. What are you thinking?

Kai shrugs, leaning nonchalantly against the stall. I don't know, I just think it would be kind of hilarious if Zheng were to have an… encounter… with the spirit of this mask.

Zuko holds the mask and considers it. He's widely acknowledged to be the best shadow-walker in the Troop (a lifetime of avoiding Azula will do that), and honestly, he owes Zheng a good scare for all of the bullshit the older private says to him.

Zuko and Kai smirk at each other. Zuko pays for the mask and slips it under his tunic, and they head back to the Stronghold. Hiroki scolds them for getting separated from the rest of the squad, then sends them off to get cleaned up for bed. He and Kai share the ofuro and make their plan.

Zuko dresses in the charcoal-colored tunic and trousers he'd brought to the bathing room, fastening them loosely as sleeping clothes. After waiting a few hours for Banli Squad to go on guard duty, Zuko slips out of bed and back to the bathroom, where he dons the mask and adjusts his clothes to make them more snug for shadow-walking. Kai meets him in the bathroom and gives him an impressed thumbs up.

Awesome! He signs. Zheng's going to freak out. Might want to tie your hair back, though.

Zuko's hair now just brushes his shoulders, still shorter than it was Before, but not by much. His phoenix plume had been cut and his entire head shaved after the Agni Kai, partly to make treating the burn easier, and partly to display exactly how far from favor he'd fallen. It doesn’t grow anymore where the burn has destroyed the roots, but Zuko knows how to tie it back so that his uneven hairline and shriveled ear are covered, and does so while Kai holds his mask. He replaces the mask, and Kai nods in satisfaction.

I listened in on the patrol route brief, he signs, hands quick and eyes bright with eagerness. Zheng’s by himself.

Any idea where he is now? Zuko asks. He has to exaggerate his body language a bit to make up for the facial expressions that are hidden by the mask.

Kai shrugs, the gesture imitated by Zuko, and together they creep out of the bathroom to hunt down their quarry.

They find Zheng slumped half asleep behind some crates near the storerooms. The setup could not be more perfect.

Kai tiptoes away as Zuko crouches in the shadows on the other side of the crates, and then starts fiddling with the lock on one of the storerooms. The sounds reach Zheng, who rouses with an annoyed grunt. The older private stomps towards the storeroom to investigate, and Kai has plenty of time to slip away into the shadows. Zuko matches his own silent footsteps to Zheng’s ridiculous komodo-rhino stomps, following close behind.

Zheng holds up his lantern and examines the lock before snorting in derision. Zuko braces himself.

Zheng turns around.

The positively girly screech Zheng lets out makes Zuko grin like a madman under his mask. Zheng stumbles back, and as soon as he’s out of the small circle of light produced by the lantern Zuko turns on his heel and bounds soundlessly over to where Kai is shaking from the effort of holding back his giggles. They tap their fists together and watch Zheng attempt to explain himself to the regular guards who came running at his shriek.

Zuko scares Zheng again on the innermost wall-walk, hanging upside down from the roof of a guard pavilion. And again in that one dark service corridor everyone hates. And again behind the catapult shed. Zheng shrieks every single time, and Zuko and Kai delight in watching him having to defend himself to the increasingly impatient guards with hands that tremble a little more with each encounter. By the end of Banli Squad’s guard shift, Zheng is a walking ball of shattered nerves, and Zuko and Kai are in bed and “asleep” when the older private staggers into the dorm.

The next morning, Zuko and Kai hide their grins as Zheng is forced to endure the regular guards teasing about his “haunting” by a “blue spirit”. Zheng tries to insist that he’d at least once managed to draw a weapon on the ghost, but this is only true in the sense that he’d had a knife in his hand but had dropped it when the alleged spirit had caused him to trip and fall into a manure pile near the rhino stables, and the guards are quick to point this out to raucous laughter. Zheng continues to attempt to defend his honor, but the roasting continues and increases in force until the archer finally storms out of the mess hall in a humiliated fury.

Zuko and Kai smirk at each other, and tap their fists together under the table. Mission accomplished.

That is the first time.

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[cuttingthe-painter]

Vampire Boyfriend - Percy

My friend and I both both the same book of writing prompts and have started a challenge where we each write a story based off the same prompt. This is the first one I’ve done during this challenge, I hope you all like it! I apologize for any spelling/grammatical errors, I finished this at 1am and am very tired.

Prompt: a: He read me a poem. b: And you let him live?

Also do vampires count as a monster boyfriend? I’m gonna be self-serving and just say they do! 

male monster x female reader

“He read me a poem,” you announced, busting through the apartment door. Avery looked up from her laptop, grinning at you like a madman.

“And you let him live?” You leveled her with a glare and dropped your bag, a solid thud filling the space between you two. 

“It was cute,” you huffed, yanking off your mittens and scarf before unzipping your coat. 

“You hate poetry,” Avery laughed. She closed her laptop and sat up, patting the seat next to her.  You take your boots off before walking over to the couch and falling into her side. You let out a sigh as you sank into her warmth. “Tell me about this cute poetry, then.”

“So, Percy was walking me home from class, right?”  

“Right,” Avery acknowledged, nodding her head to urge me on.

“Well, he was telling me about one of his classes where they discuss poetry. He was going on and on until I finally told him ‘I hate poetry.’ And you know what he said to me?”

“What’d he say?” Avery asked, motioning for you to grab the chips off the coffee table for her. You leaned forward and grabbed the Doritos, handing them to her before you continued. 

“He said ‘you just haven’t read the right poems’ and laughed!” you exclaimed. You grabbed a chip from the bag, popped it in your mouth, and went on. “So Percy pulled a book out of his bag and opened to a bookmarked page, as if he had been saving the poem just to read to me. Honestly, Ry? It gave me butterflies.”

“I don’t know if it was that you liked the poem, or that you liked the idea of Percy reading you a love poem,” Avery teased, waggling her perfectly sculpted brows at you. You smacked at her playfully and sat up to your phone out of you pocket. You typed the name of the poem into google and pulled it up.

“Let me read it to you,” you offered, waiting for the link to load.

“Only if you make your voice all low and dreamy like Percy’s,” Avery snorted, using the chip bag to block your next swipe at her.  You roll your eyes before clearing your throat and beginning to read.

“Outside the sky is light with stars;

There’s a hollow roaring from the sea.

And, alas! for the little almond flowers,

The wind is shaking the almond tree.

How little I thought, a year ago,

In the horrible cottage upon the Lee

That he and I should be sitting so

And sipping a cup of chamomile tea

Light as feathers the witches fly,

The horn of the moon is plain to see;

By a firefly under a jonquil flower

A goblin toasts a bumble-bee.

We might be fifty, we might be five,

So snug, so compact, so wise are we!

Under the kitchen-table leg

My knee is pressing against his knee.

Our shutters are shut, the fire is low,

The tap is dripping peacefully;

The saucepan shadows on the wall

Are black and round and plain to see.”

You finish reading the poem and look up at Avery to gauge her reaction. She’s staring at you, a sparkle in her eye and a smile on her lips. She lifts another chip to her mouth and chews thoughtfully, slower than she would normally chew. Silence sat between you both, feeling thicker with every passing second. Finally, she swallowed her chip and laughed.

“He read you a love poem!” she cheered, kicking her feet in glee and falling to her side on the couch. “What year is it! What did you say?”

“I said thank you? And told him it was a nice poem.” She stilled, slowly turning towards you. Suddenly, she kicked out, striking you in the leg. “Hey! What the hell?” 

“You dummy! He read you a love poem and you said thank you? You might as well had said ‘Thanks but the feelings are not mutual!’” She mocked in a mediocre attempt at what you could only guess was your voice. “You’ve better not have blown it. Text him right now, ask him on a date.”

“I’m not going to do that, Avery! It’s fine.” She launched towards you, attempting to snatch the phone from your hands. You shot of the couch, cradling your phone to your chest as you ran to your room. “I’ll see him in two days!”

That night, you dreamt you sat on the porch of a cottage. The moon sat amongst the splatter of stars in the night sky, casting its glow onto you. Next to you sat Percy, dressed in a loose-fitting, white crew neck tucked into high waisted denim jeans. His normally dark, messy curls were tamed, gelled into a side swept wave. He sat with his right hand resting on your left, his fingers fidgeting with a ring on your finger. The stars reflected in his eyes as he turned to look at you. He opened his mouth to speak, but all you could hear was the roar of the sea in the distance. 

The next day, you weren’t able to focus on any of your work. After hours of staring at your books and computer screen, you gave up any semblance of productivity. The weather that evening was significantly warmer than the evening prior. Perfect, I can get out of the house without freezing my ass off, you thought. You got dressed, checked yourself out in the mirror to check that you looked somewhat presentable, and went to leave the apartment. You could hear snores from Avery’s room as you walked down the hallway. She must be taking what she calls her “evening nap”, meaning she’ll be passed out until tomorrow morning. You grabbed your wallet, keys, and jacket and made your way down the block. 

The night was warm, but accompanied by a chill in the breeze. The streets were fairly empty; cars buzzed by while you moseyed along. You weren’t sure where you wanted to go, but when the warm smell of coffee enveloped you, you made up your mind. The aroma of the coffee and pastries filled your senses when you pushed passed the door. The cafe was fairly empty, only a couple of tables were occupied and there was no line. You walked up to the counter and ordered yourself a chamomile tea, hoping it would help calm your anxious mind. 

When you sit with your order, you chuckle, noting the irony of Percy reading you a poem titled after your favorite drink. Time is lost when you drink your tea and read. You had forgotten where you even were until you hear a familiar voice to your right. 

“Is anyone sitting here?” a smooth, low voice asks. You look up, smiling when you met Percy’s bright hazel eyes. He pulled the chair out when you shook your head, sitting after he set his drink down. His chestnut curls fell into his eyes as he sat; he ran his fingers through them, moving them out of his face, before rubbing his pale hand over the shaved side. A lazy smile stretched across his face when he caught you staring. You looked down at your tea, attempting to hide the blush warming your cheeks. 

“I don’t normally see you here. What brings you tonight?” Percy asked, lifting his cup to his full lips and taking a sip. You tracked the motion, acutely aware of the way it made your stomach flip. 

“I was just feeling anxious around the house,” you explain, dropping our eyes and focusing on your hands on the steaming cup in front of you. “My mind has just been racing all day. I thought a walk would help, and then I saw the cafe and thought a tea would help.” There was an understanding look in Percy’s eye, he smiled reassuringly at you and knocked his knee against yours to offer some sort of comfort.

Under the kitchen-table leg, My knee is pressing against his knee.You furrowed your brow when the poem’s lines rang through your head, accompanied by a sense of déjà vu. Percy noticed the change in your demeanor and leaned forward, his hand reaching across the table to hold yours. His hand was unnaturally cold against your warmth.

“I could join you on a walk if you’d like,” he offered gently, his thumb absently rubbing circles into your skin. You nod, standing and pulling your jacket on. “Did you want another tea before we went?”

“Sure, that’d be nice.” Percy quickly stood and moved to the counter. You walked to the trash, listening to him order as you threw your cups away. Did he order you a chamomile? You assumed he would have just ordered you a typical black tea or something; you had never told him you prefered chamomile. Maybe he had noticed the scent of your tea while you both had been sitting. 

Percy met you at the door, two drinks in hand. You took yours and breathed in the warm aroma, confirming that he did indeed order you a chamomile. You were about to ask how he knew when he opened the door and guided you out with a hand on your lower back. That was a new thing he had started doing; touching in general was something knew between you both. You fell into stride alongside him and settled into a comfortable silence. You were the first to talk, your voice soft amongst the sounds of the streets. 

“Do you go there a lot?” you asked, tilting your head back in the direction of the cafe. “M’yeah,” he replied, swallowing a mouthful of his drink. “An old family friend owns the place, Rosie. I try to visit her every evening; it’s definitely easier Tuesdays and Thursdays since its on the way home from your place.”

“Did you grow up here? Is that why your family knows her?” you probed, excited to learn more about Percy’s youth.

“I guess you could say that,” he laughed, “I’ve lived a lot of places, but something always brings me back here.” His fingers brushed against your hand as you both walked, driving the butterflies in your stomach mad. You extended your pinky towards his, chasing the feeling. When your pinkies locked, he adjusted his hand and wove your fingers together. 

“What brings you back?” His thumb began running those lazy circles over your skin again, as if it were an answer. You looked up to him, admiring the contours of his face as you waited for a response. His teeth tugged at his bottom lip while he thought; you focused on the motion, thinking about what his lips might feel like against yours. What his teeth might feel like on your skin. Heat rose to your cheeks at the thoughts and your heart fluttered in your chest. Beside you, Percy let out a shaky breath, gently squeezed your hand and pulled you to a stop . 

“Can I show you one of my favorite places?” he asked, an emotion that you couldn’t place dancing in his eyes.

“Sure,” you answered, “I’d love that.” Percy guided you both through the town, only letting go your hand to let you text Avery your plans. Conversation always flowed naturally between you both, as if you had been friends for years, and this time was no different. You wanted nothing more than to curl up and listen to him talk to hours.

Vibrations pulsing in your pocket brought you out of your daze. You let go of Percy’s hand to shuffle your drink into it as your pulled your phone out. A message from Avery flashed on your screen; you typed in your passcode to read the message.

Did he shake your almond tree yet?  A winky face and some questionable emojis accompanied the text. A snort tore from you when you read the poor innuendo. 

“What’s so funny?” Percy asked, stepping into your space to look at the screen. You locked the screen and turned to face him, not realizing just how close he was.

“Uh, n-nothing,” you stammered nervously, breath hitching in your throat. His eyes flickered to your mouth when you spoke and you watched as his tongue darted out to run along his lower lip. You bit your own as you looked from his mouth back up to his eyes. 

“Ah, well we should continue then, we’re almost there,” he murmured huskily. You let out a noise, hoping it was one of agreement, and started walking with him. When you finally saw where he was taking you, you couldn’t breathe. You had been here before. At least, in your dreams you had been here. An old cottage sat in the distance, overlooking the sea. A misty breeze welcomed you the closer you got, sending chills through you. You walked closer to Percy, searching for a warmth he didn’t have. 

Once you were at the cottage, Percy pulled you to sit on the porch with him. Images of your dream flashed through your mind, Percy sitting, his hand atop yours, as you both looked up into the night sky. 

“I feel like I’ve been here before,” you confessed, turning to meet his eyes. His hand moved to rest on yours, urging you to continue. “I don’t know why, Percy, but everything about you just seems so familiar.”

“That’s a good thing, I hope,” he said hopefully. You nodded and turned your face upwards, basking in the glow of the bright moon. 

“The best thing.” “A toast then!” Percy exclaims, a clap sounding his joy. You laughed, watching him pick up his now cold drink. You followed suit, picking up your tea. He turned to face, drink raised. “To familiarity!” “To familiarity!” you repeated, raising your cup to tap his. He pulled his cup back, not letting yours touch his. 

“And to you, my bumble-bee.” His cup tapped yours, but you didn’t feel it. All your senses clouded, your head spun. Hands steadied you, but you barely felt them. Visions flooded your mind, visions of you and Percy. Percy, in his waistcoat, walking you through a garden filled with roses. Percy, in a pale suit and straw boater hat, walking with you through the bustling city. Percy, with his white crew neck tee and high waisted jeans, having tea with you on the beach. Percy, in his fitted peacoat, drinking tea with you on the porch at your cottage by the sea.

Your cottage by the sea. The cottage Percy surprised you with after your wedding, knowing how much you loved walking along the shores at night. The cottage where you now sat, remembering every life you’ve lived with Percy. Every life where you had forgotten he existed, only for him to find you and help you remember.

“My bumble-bee,” he murmured again, moving his hand to cup your face. You nuzzle into it, inhaling his earthy scent and kissing his palm. His thumb ran along your cheek, wiping away a tear you hadn’t felt fall. “You remember?”

You did. You remembered every time you met him. Every time you loved him. Every time he asked you to join him, to take the bite and live with him forever. Every time you said no, too afraid to lose your humanity. 

“I do,” you whispered, leaning into him. When he smiled, you noticed his fangs were out. You reached up and ran your fingers along them, careful to not let them prick your finger. Percy playfully bit at them before kissing them gently. 

“Something always bring me back,” he cooed, pulling your face closer to him. “Come here.” His lips brush yours and the world fell away. All you knew was the feel of Percy holding you, his scent flooding your senses. His thumb caressed your cheek as he pulled away and rested his forehead against yours. 

“I missed you so much, my sweet,” he breathed, “Every new life is more difficult than the last. I was starting to think you wouldn’t remember this time.” The sadness in his voice made your chest ache. You didn’t want Percy to have to feel that sadness, not because of you.

“Maybe this time, I stay.” Percy stilled, letting a moment pass before sitting back and holding your gaze. You couldn’t read the emotions flashing through his eyes. You sucked in a slow breath before continuing, “I think this time I’m ready for you to change me. I don’t want to forget you again.” Percy pulled you to his lap, cradling you against his chest. He pressed a kiss into your hair and rested there, breathing in your scent. 

“Oh, my bumble-bee, I’ve waited for hundreds of years to hear those words.” He kissed you again, slow and soft, conveying the emotions his words couldn’t. He pulled away, panting slightly. “But there’s still time; you don’t have to make that decision yet.”

“I love you,” you whisper, nuzzling your head into his neck. He was right, there was still time to decide, but you’ve already made up your mind. He wouldn’t have to ask you again because this time, you wouldn’t be leaving him.

[blackcatkita]

The Consequence of Secrets- Chapter 26

The Things That Never Change, and The One That Changes Everything

Liam x Jennifer (MC), Drake x Olivia

Let’s skip the part where I apologize for taking so long and promise to get the next chapter out more quickly, shall we? At this point I feel like I’m just jinxing myself when I say that. Word count is 4972 and I hope you like it! I know I do, but if YOU do, please like, comment, or reblog. I appreciate every single note!

Groaning into his pillow, Drake blindly swipes toward the ungodly sound coming from the nightstand. The clumsy gesture does nothing to stop the noise but knocks the phone to the floor where the alarm he set only a few hours before continues to torment him out of reach.

Shifting a quarter turn, he hangs off the side of the bed to reach the damn thing and turns it off. Chin resting on the side of the mattress and his hands on the floor, he closes his eyes to enjoy the silence, knowing another alarm will go off in five minutes. He hasn’t even sat up yet and he already can’t wait to take a nap. But that will have to wait. He has shit to do, a pissed off girlfriend’s ass to kiss and a King and Queen in need of toiletries and a change of clothes. It’s gonna be a day. Again.

After a quick shower, a cup of stale coffee from the kitchenette alcove in his quarters and a call to check on Olivia’s ETA, he feels slightly more human and less like the walking dead. He grabs his old denim shirt from the closet for old time’s sake and slips it on, recalling what Olivia said as he fastens the buttons. ‘I’ll get there when I get there, don’t worry about when it is. Go do what you’re supposed to be doing and take care of Liam and Jennifer.’ So warm and fuzzy his woman is. A regular wallflower. But though her tone was laced with snark, as usual, she didn’t sound as pissed off as she had been so… here’s hoping he was wrong and whatever she wanted to talk to him about before he left for the capital wasn’t a big deal after all.

Down one hall, a right turn and down another, Drake reaches the double doors of the Royal Chambers, having had to endure several double-takes and apprehensive stares from palace staff along the way. It’s to be expected after what went down but a damn ‘hello’ would be nice. Though he could also say ‘hello’ to them first, if he wanted to be sucked into a conversation that is. Which he doesn’t.

Using the key Liam gave him not long after the area was renovated, he lets himself into the large, open space, bright from the morning sun shining through the floor to ceiling windows. The memory of the last time he stood here flashes in his mind; he and Liam rolling around the floor kicking the shit out of each other, then being unceremoniously dragged out by guards. He forces the thought away and focuses on another time they stood in this space; back when Liam trusted him and considered him his brother.

It was the day before they were due in Fydelia to begin Liam and Madeleine’s engagement tour and they hadn’t seen or spoken to Jennifer in weeks. All they knew was she was safe with the Beaumont’s but they didn’t know who was behind the plot, who they could trust or what the future would hold. Despite it all, every detail of the three-bedroom renovation Liam was showing him was designed with Jennifer in mind; from the Brazilian walnut floors and concrete countertops to the damn light fixtures. He had spared no expense and it really had turned out perfectly. Classy, but not pretentious. Elegant, but not stuffy. He built them a home they could be themselves in, within the confines of the Royal Palace. Ever the cynic, Drake had asked what he would do with it if he ended up married to Madeleine and Liam had answered, “Then should she want it, it will be Jennifer’s alone. Though every day I pray we will live here together and raise our family as husband and wife.”

Grinning at the memory, Drake crosses the living room to the stairs and a glint of gold on one of the bookshelves flanking the fireplace catches his eye. He sucks in a breath, stopping in his tracks when he recognizes the item responsible. The next moment has him standing in front of the shelves, with no recollection of walking over or picking up the antique compass he gave Liam as a wedding gift. The breath he’d been holding slowly releases from his lungs as he looks down at it, both shocked and not at all surprised Liam kept it on display. Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe he kept putting it away and Jennifer kept putting it back. Maybe he only recently…  Ah, hell, he’s putting a lot of thought into something that had probably been sitting there forgotten the whole time.

Setting it back on the shelf, he scrubs his hand down his face and turns around. He screams, throwing himself back into the wooden edges of the bookcase. Books fall around him as from the couch, Maxwell screams back at him, bolting up to a sitting position and dumping poor Chance onto the floor from where he’d been sleeping tucked against Maxwell’s chest. The dog runs around and around an armchair, barking his little head off as Liam and Jennifer’s second corgi darts behind the other chair, nails skittering across the floor as her paws try to find purchase on the wood.

As he stands there trying to catch his breath, Drake’s heart thumps against the palm he has pressed to his chest. “Jesus Christ, Maxwell! You trying to give me a heart attack?!”

“Me?!” Maxwell stares back with wild eyes, clutching the blanket tightly against his baby hippo tattoo. His hair is plastered to one side of his head and the rest is sticking up every which way. He looks like a madman. “You’re the intruder! I was just sleeping here, man!”

“I didn’t think anyone would be here.” Crouching down to the floor, Drake holds out his hand and makes a clicking sound with his tongue. Chance closes the few feet of distance between them, sniffing the proffered hand before nudging it with his nose to accept pets. “I just came to pack a bag for Liam and Jennifer.”

Maxwell releases his hold on the blanket and places his hands on the couch to either side of him as he leans forward. “Is she okay? Did you talk to her?”

“A little bit,” Drake replies, giving Chance belly rubs as he rolls over. “She was pretty out of it.”

“Is she okay though? All I know is she had surgery but what was wrong with her?” The manic look is back in his eyes and his words are coming out in a rush. “Liam is freaking out, isn’t he? Is Little Maxwell okay? Nobody tells me anything!”

Pressing his lips together, Drake lets out a slow breath through his nose as he stands. “Ok, one, even if it is a boy they’re not naming their baby Maxwell and two, I texted you like seven times.”

“You did?” Maxwell grabs his phone from the coffee table and smiles as he looks down at it. “Ha. I guess you did.”

Eyebrow quirked, Drake nods. “Yeah.”

“Shh! I’m reading…”

Drake rolls his eyes. “Alright, well, while you get caught up I’m gonna grab their stuff.” As Maxwell starts to get up from the couch, Drake holds up his hand and shakes his head. “No, I don’t need your help. It will go much quicker without you. You’ve got ten minutes to get dressed if you want to go back to the hospital with me.” Picking up the empty duffel bag, he walks away and makes it halfway up the stairs before adding, “And for God’s sake, do something with your hair.”

A half an hour later, Drake stands in the foyer with a more presentable Maxwell, both of them armed with a packed duffel bag slung over their shoulders. In Drake’s, Jennifer’s purse and phone, chargers, toiletries and a change of clothes for both of them. In Maxwell’s, a deck of cards, seven different novels, a stack of magazines, a corgi plushie, a teddy bear, and Jennifer’s pillow.

“Ok.” Drake turns to Maxwell and pins him with a stern expression. “Those vultures are going to be looking for info and until Liam or Jennifer decides otherwise, it’s none of their damn business. So, when we get out there, we move quickly and quietly. Do not talk to, smile at, laugh, wink or even so much as look at anyone. We do not engage. Understand?”

Maxwell nods once, firmly. “Act like Drake. Got it.”

Resisting the urge to go over the rules again, Drake opens the door just far enough to stick his head through, checking to make sure the hallway is empty before he steps into it. “Alright, let’s go.”

“So…” Maxwell says as he shuts the door behind him and falls in step beside Drake. “I know we’re not supposed to talk to anyone but, what if it’s like, Olivia or something?”

“Olivia isn’t here.”

“She didn’t come with you?”

“No.”

“How come?”    

Exasperated, Drake stops at the juncture of two hallways. “What part of quietly did you not understand?” Before Maxwell even has a chance to open his mouth, it feels like the air around them is sucked out of existence and a chill runs down Drake’s spine. He turns to the right, gazing down the long hallway to the door separating the residential wing from the rest of the palace and there she is, the one person he dreaded seeing most. Madeleine. Her cold, dead eyes narrow as their eyes lock and the chill turns into a full shudder like his body knows it’s in the presence of pure evil.

“We’ve been made!” Maxwell yelps, shocking Drake out of the spell the witch put on him.

Instinct kicks in and it only takes a split second for him to assess the situation. A mere twenty feet stands between them and the door to the garage. And while they are laden with the bags, Madeleine has three times the distance and a right turn to cover; and she’s wearing heels. “Run for it!” Drake shouts, grabbing onto Maxwell’s shoulder and giving him a shove as Madeleine steps forward. Hearing her shoes clacking against the marble floor as she chases after them, they sprint for the door like the devil is on their heels, because she is. He reaches it, heart racing and breathless as he pulls his keys from the front pocket of his jeans. With Maxwell bouncing nervously beside him, he fumbles with the ring, hands shaking as he finds the right key and slams it home. He flings the door open and rushes into the garage, only to be stopped by a strangled cry behind him. Whirling back around, he finds Maxwell, straining against the strap on his shoulder with panic in his eyes.

“Forget about me!” he shouts. “Save yourself!”

A deep, hearty laugh bursts from Drake’s lips, the first in a long time and damn if it doesn’t feel good. He rushes back to save his friend, checking behind him to see what the problem is. “You’re stuck on the doorknob. Quit pulling.”

“Help me!”

“I’m trying!” Drake laughs, finally getting Maxwell free as Madeleine rounds the corner. “Go! Go! Go!” Dragging Maxwell through the door, he slams it behind them and locks it, cutting off Madeleine as she yells something about acting like children.

Maxwell drops his bag and bends forward, breathing heavily with his hands on his knees. “That… was close.”

“Yeah, no shit. Of all the people to find us.”

“Right?” Maxwell agrees. “Does she have a key?”

“I doubt it,” Drake shrugs. “I don’t think she’s driven herself anywhere in her life. Probably shouldn’t wait around for her to find one though.” Or for anyone else to stop them. All he has to do is stop to grab Liam some food, check-in with him and Jennifer when they drop off the bags and make it back to the palace with enough time to take a much-needed nap before Olivia arrives. The trick will be reigning Maxwell in, but Drake is not above leaving his ass there should he not know when it’s time to leave.

“Agreed,” Maxwell nods and picks up his bag. “Let’s roll, partner.”

From the palace to Seraphim’s diner, Maxwell was his usual self, but as they left with Liam’s lunch, his demeanor changed and it only got worse the closer they got to the hospital. By the time they were cleared through the secured side entrance and wound their way through the halls, he wasn’t talking at all and his steps were slow and deliberate like he was physically forcing himself to move forward.

Stepping onto the lift and hitting the button for the fifth floor, Drake tries once again to engage in conversation as the doors slide shut. “I wonder how long it will take the press to catch wind of this. I can’t believe they aren’t swarming the place already.”

Maxwell only nods in response, staring straight ahead with his jaw clenched. His breathing is ragged and coming too fast and he’s got the bag strap in a white-knuckled grip. The guy is not doing well at all, and Drake is afraid he’s either going to pass out or throw up; maybe both.

Drake grips Maxwell’s shoulder tightly, speaking in what he hopes is a soothing voice. “Hey, she’s okay.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, Maxwell looks away and down at the floor, but not before Drake sees his lower lip tremble.

The lift comes to a stop and as the doors open, Drake gives Maxwell’s shoulder one more squeeze. “Come on. It’s gonna be fine. I promise.”

“I’m umm…” Maxwell swallows hard, gesturing at the sitting area in front of them as they step out into the foyer. “I’m just going to wait out here.”

“She’s going to want to see you. You know that, right?”

Maxwell shrugs dejectedly and starts to head to one of the chairs.

Ah, hell. Maxwell may be the goofy, fun-loving optimist everyone knew, but those close to him know he’s one of the most caring, compassionate and empathetic people you’d ever have the pleasure of meeting. He’s the one who found Jennifer; sat with her before Liam got there when nobody knew what was happening and considering how much she means to him, it’s no wonder he’s having a hard time with seeing her again. Drake should have seen it coming and if he hadn’t isolated himself in Lythikos for so long, maybe he would have. “Give me the bag,” Drake tells him, holding out his hand. Maxwell hands it over, then turns away again without a word. “Room 505. Come in when you’re ready.”

One duffel slung over his shoulder and another with a white bag of greasy diner food balanced on top in his hand, Drake rounds the corner to Jennifer’s room. Halfway down the hall, he hears laughter coming from inside her room and relief washes over him, bringing with it a sense of peace he hasn’t felt in he doesn’t know how long. He nods to the two guards posted outside, thinking he should have brought them food as well as he lets himself into the room.

Jennifer is sitting up in bed, fresh-faced and her long brown hair pulled up into a ponytail with Liam perched at her side, their focus only on each other as they laugh. Hearing the doctor say the surgery went well, talking to her in her doped-up state, even Liam telling him the palace was still his home; none of those things compared to the sight of them together. Uninhibited, happy and carefree; like they’re supposed to be.

“Stop… stop… stop…” Jennifer pants, leaning over to place her hand on Liam’s forearm. “I just had surgery, you know!”

“Oh, yes, that’s right,” Liam chuckles. “I had almost forgotten why we were here.”

Smiling, she shakes her head and rolls her eyes as Liam kisses the back of her hand. She glances over and seeing Drake, her smile widens. “Drake! You’re here! And you’re… moving in?”

“Ha-Ha.” Drake slips off the bag and places them both against the wall. He turns around, rolling his shoulder to ease the ache Maxwell’s heavy ass bag caused. “Half the hospital can hear you two cackling in here. What’s so funny?”

“Oh, Liam was telling me about what I did while I was coming off anesthesia. Apparently, I told the nurse I married good, not to get any ideas and that I was watching her.”

Liam nods, grinning like a fool. “Then she said, and I quote, ‘Just give it here. It’s cute and tight and I wanna touch it’ before grabbing my backside. And when I took her hand to stop the assault, she blew a raspberry at me, called me a ‘mean man’ and shouted, ‘I let you touch my butt whenever you want’.”

Drake raises his eyebrows. “Wow.”

“Whatever,” Jennifer shrugs, looking not the least bit embarrassed as she grabs a jello cup and spoon off the over-bed tray. “I feel like I’d do all those things without being under the influence of propofol. Oh! Check this out!” She holds out her arm, showing him a plastic contraption with two dangly bits taped to her skin. “It’s called a PICC line and it goes in here then snakes through my vein alllll the way up and stops near my heart. That way they don’t have to keep poking me for my antibiotics and stuff. Pretty cool, huh?”

“Fascinating.” Drake turns away, bending down to grab Liam’s food off the top of the duffel bag. “Here. Figured you’d be hungry.”

“What is that?” Jennifer licks her lips, her eyes following the bag as Drake passes it over her bed to Liam.

“Seraphim’s?” Liam asks.

“Of course, Seraphim’s,” Drake scoffs. “Like I’d get you a burger and fries from anywhere else.”

“Why…” Jennifer looks up at Drake, brow furrowed and her lips parted as she shakes her head, like she can’t comprehend what is happening. “Why would you bring yummy and delicious food from my favorite diner when I can’t eat anything?! I thought you were my friend!”

“Sorry,” Drake shrugs. A smile tugs at the corners of his lips, one which he quickly covers with his palm so as not to anger the queen further. She can be scary when she wants to be.

“I can see you smiling!” She looks to Liam for support but the insulted look on her face changes to a scowl when she sees the fry halfway to his mouth.

“What?” Liam has the good sense to look guilty, but he still eats the fry. “I haven’t eaten since early yesterday.”

“Neither have I! Before that even!” she retorts, watching him chew. “Give me one.” She reaches for the bag and Liam pulls it away.

“No. You’re on a clear liquid diet for twenty-four hours. No exceptions.”

“Remember when I said you were a mean man? I stand by it.”

“I’m sorry, love,” Liam laughs. “But I won’t take the chance of you making yourself sick for a french fry. Follow the rules today and if all goes well, tomorrow we will get you whatever you want. Though I am glad to see you seem to be getting your appetite back.”

She lets out a whiny groan and slumps back against her pillow, pouting as she rips the top off her container of lime jello and throws it aggressively onto the tray. “It’s not even a good flavor.” The jello makes an unpleasant squelch as she digs the spoon in.

“Which flavor do you like better?” Liam asks. “I’ll get it for you.”

“Red.” Swallowing a spoonful, she shivers in disgust. “Blech.”

“Red is a color, not a flavor,” Drake points out. The look he receives from her in response is unpleasant, to say the least, and he holds up his hands in surrender. “Never mind.”

“Ok, how about this,” Jennifer looks at Liam with a hopeful expression. “Let me smell the bag while I eat, and that way, it will taste like real food.”

Drake grimaces. “I feel like that may be going too far and it’s very weird.”

“Says the guy who can eat whatever he wants,” she grumbles at the jello.

“You are adorable,” Liam smiles fondly at her. “While you’re free to… sniff my food anytime you wish, I’m not sure that’s going to work. I also don’t trust you not to snatch it as soon as my guard is down.” That gets a laugh out of her and when Liam catches Drake’s eye across the bed, he smiles.

“You know what? That is a completely valid point,” she sighs dramatically, digging back into her ‘meal’. “At least this is better than the so-called chicken broth you made me finish. Saltwater was more like it.”

There’s a tentative knock on the door and Jennifer sets the cup down as they all look to see who it is. Maxwell enters, looking more disheveled than when they arrived but less than when Drake woke him up. Like he had run his hand through his hair a few too many times while psyching himself up to come in. He lingers by the door, wringing his hands together as his eyes move to Drake, then Liam, and finally Jennifer. Drawing in a shuddering breath, he wraps his arms around himself as tears fill his eyes and Drake follows his line of sight to see Jennifer’s reaction.

The greeting she was undoubtedly about to give dies on her lips and her face crumbles, eyes glistening with tears of her own as she holds out her arms. Without a word, Liam stands from the bed and Drake steps back as Maxwell closes the distance between him and Jennifer to burrow himself into her embrace.

She cradles him in her arms, one hand cupping the back of his head and the other rubbing his shoulders as they shake with sobs. “I’m okay, Maxwell,” she whispers. “I’m okay.”

“I was so scared,” Maxwell hiccups into her hair. “I thought you were going to die.”

“I know.” She blinks and tears roll down her cheeks. “But you found us. You saved our lives, Maxwell. You don’t have to worry anymore. Everything’s going to be fine.”

Liam swallows hard, trying and failing to hold in his emotions as he watches the exchange. “We’ll give you two some privacy.”

Jennifer looks up at him with a shaky smile, nodding her head and mouthing the words ‘Thank you’.

Liam gives her thigh a gentle squeeze, then looks at Drake and tips his head towards the door.

“Might want to grab that bag,” Drake tells him, gesturing at the food Liam set down when he stood. Behind Maxwell’s head, Jennifer gives him the finger.

Picking it up, Liam follows Drake to the door, speaking low enough only he can hear as they exit into the hallway. “I believe you are correct. For the sake of my marriage, I think it’s best I eat elsewhere.”

Drake laughs in agreement but as the seconds tick by, an awkward silence falls between them. He wants to know what the doctors have said; is she really going to be okay, is the medication working, but it isn’t his place to ask anymore. No, he’ll just stand here with his hands in his pockets, not knowing how to mend the bridge that’s been burnt between him and his brother.

“They said her white blood cell count continues to decrease.” Now that Liam’s away from Jennifer, the lines of stress and anxiety he had before have returned to his face. “It’s too soon to tell, but so far they’ve been able to stop the infection.”

Relieved, Drake sighs. “That’s good. And she’s obviously feeling better.”

“How much of that is the medication, though?” Liam asks, walking a few feet down the hall. “She’s on anti-nausea meds, morphine for the pain… they’re pumping antibiotics straight into her bloodstream three times a day. She’s worried about how it will all affect the baby but without it…” He shakes his head, unable to finish the thought and scrubs his hand down his face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t burden you with this.”

“Come on, Liam, we’re brothers. There’s no apology needed.”

Liam huffs out a humorless laugh, one corner of his mouth twitching. “I have much to apologize for, Drake.”

“Yeah, me too.” Looking down at the floor, Drake shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels as the silence stretches between them again. “You better go eat. It’s probably ice cold by now.”

“There’s a microwave down the hall.”

“Oh,” Drake nods. He takes his hands out of his pockets, starts to put them back in and rubs the back of his neck instead. Say something. Do something. Anything. Just stop fidgeting. “I’m gonna go get some coffee. Want me to bring you some?”

“Sure. Thank you.” The grin on Liam’s face quickly melts away as his eyes narrow slightly and the hint of a furrow forms between his brows. It’s a look Drake has seen on his face countless times. He’s contemplating something and isn’t sure how to proceed; or if he should. To save him the trouble, Drake turns away, only making it a couple of steps when Liam speaks again. “Drake?”

He turns back around to look at Liam. “Yeah?”

Liam swallows nervously and glances to the side then takes a deep breath and looks Drake in the eye. “There are things I need to say but with everything going on… maybe once she’s back home and settled you and I can sit down and have the discussion we should have had months ago. If you’re agreeable to it, of course.”

Drake nods. “I’d like that.”

“Good.” Flashing a relieved grin, Liam lifts the bag of food. “I’m going to…”

“Yeah, go eat. I’ll see you in a few.” Drake watches as Liam walks back towards Jennifer’s room, his gait somewhat easier and the set of his shoulders lighter as he stops to talk to Bastien and the other guards. The captain catches Drake’s eye and they give each other a firm nod before Drake turns to leave, both excited and nervous as all hell for the conversation that’s been a long time coming.

Two hours later, after watching Maxwell catalog everything he brought, listening to him complain about Drake not letting him pack Monopoly and a chess set, and saying goodbye to Liam and Jennifer, Drake finally returns to his quarters. Opening the door, he finds Olivia, sitting straight-backed in one of his armchairs with her hands in her lap and her legs pressed together. “Hey,” he greets her, closing the door behind him. “Why didn’t you call me when you got here?”

“You’d be back eventually,” Olivia shrugs. “How is she?”

“Much better than she was.” He tosses his keys onto the small table beside the door and walks over to the couch, sinking into it with a groan. “Liam said she’s on a bunch of meds but so far they’ve stopped the infection. Nothing to do but wait I suppose, but she looks good. A little whiny and dramatic but for the most part, she was acting like herself.”

“Good.” Olivia pauses, running her hands down her thighs to smooth non-existent wrinkles from her black leggings. “We need to talk.”

“Yeah, I figured.” He leans forward, sighing as he threads his fingers through his hair. “Look, I know you’re pissed about the way I’ve been handling things with Liam and with us but…”

She holds up her hand, palm facing forward as she squeezes her eyes shut. “Drake, stop.”

“Let me finish.” Scooting closer to her, he takes her hand, cradling it in both of his. “I should have come to the picnic with you, shouldn’t have shut you down every time you tried to convince me of what an ass I was being. All you were trying to do was get me to fix things with Liam and I should have listened to you. Because you were right, I was scared. I was scared of facing him and I was scared of opening myself up again and that’s why I held myself back with you. But I’m done with all of it.” He takes a deep breath to calm his racing heart and squeezes her hand until her gorgeous green eyes meet his. “You’re beautiful and capable, sweeter than you pretend to be and you scare the shit out of me. You drive me crazy but damn it, I love you. I love you, Olivia. I’ve loved you for a long time and I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.”

She gasps, staring at him with wide eyes and her lips parted as she slowly shakes her head. “That’s not what I wanted to…”

“Not what you wanted to hear?”

“No! No, I…” She releases a shuddering breath, and her gaze falls to where her hand is trembling in his. “I have something to tell you.”

Cold dread sweeps across the back of his neck and instinctively, he pulls away. “What is it?” he asks, not wanting to hear the answer but needing to all the same. She opens her mouth to speak, three, four times before closing it again and when their eyes lock, he sees a vulnerability he hasn’t seen from her since they were kids. Whatever it is, she’s afraid to tell him and that fact alone makes him snap, “For God’s sake, spit it out, woman!”

Anger flashes in her eyes and she purses her lips, looking like if she had a knife in her hand he’d be bleeding on the floor. “Congratulations. You’re going to be a father.”

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