#pls read i hope u enjoy it

[hoshiina]

pairing: hoshina soushirou x gn!reader (no prns)

summary: in which he realizes you were the one for him

warnings: none i think !

wc: 1100

Hoshina wasn't a player. He wasn't one to say yes to everyone who came his way nor was he one to lightly pursue just about anyone who slightly interested him— not to mention he didn’t fall easily to begin with. He was a busy man in a dangerous line of work so having a relationship simply didn’t make sense most of the time.

However, this is not to say he hasn’t had a few relationships here and there. He loved those he dated, he really did. He did not believe in dating for the fun of it nor did he believe in starting a relationship he knew would end at some point, but subconsciously he tried not to get attached. He kept his distance and locked away his heart to keep from getting hurt. Was it unfair? Well yes, but he was scared. Everyone has something that terrifies them greatly, this just so happened to be Hoshina’s.

Yet, recently he could tell that something was different with you. It had only been a few months since you started dating, but he feared the shift in his feelings. He knew what it was— he knew very well, but as soon as he admitted it, it would be over. There’d be no going back for him. He knew he was being rather irrational, he knew that if he sat down and confronted these emotions he’d realize they weren’t that big of a deal, but he couldn’t. He’s never been able to.

However, while fighting this kaiju, it became plain obvious that he was simply in denial. 

It upset him how important you were to him, but more than that it upset him that he knew he was important to you. You had made it so painfully clear that he meant the absolute world to you and that broke him to pieces every single time.

To him it was easy being alone— he just had to make sure his job was complete before he died. If he could ensure everyone’s safety or at least help Mina out, there was nothing more he wished for. Yet while fighting Kaiju no. 10 today, when he saw his life flash before his eyes, his immediate thought was of you. If he died you’d cry. And that alone was going to get him home alive.

He’d rather die than make you cry. Especially not alone.

As he stood up again, he could see his blood dripping from his wounds and immediately it made him chuckle. You’d cry anyways when you see the state he’s in. 

I’ll have to be around to wipe your tears at least, he said to you in his head.

He was incredibly lucky that you didn’t work on the battlefield, his heart simply would not be able to take it. But he did, and for you he’d have to get home safe. Even if no one else cared that much, not even himself, he knew you would.

All of a sudden, it was easy to admit. He was hopelessly in love with you, in a way he didn't know he was capable of. He wished that he would spend the rest of his life with you and he hoped you would spend the rest of yours with him. Perhaps he was just afraid and a little flustered to admit that he was important to someone, especially someone special to him too. He had seen how painful it was for those left behind, a little too often. 

But there was an easy solution to that, he’d just get back to you safe every time. He just won’t make you worry and he’ll be there for you. This was supposed to be a dilemma, something he thought he'd stress over, but in the moment he felt eerily relaxed, definitely not like he was fighting an identified grade kaiju. The rest of the fight was a blur, he couldn't remember much. His head was clear but the fatigue had taken over at that point, but before he knew it, the kaiju laid in front of him still.

He was faintly conscious as they rushed him into an ambulance and patched him up. Once he was properly treated and awake, they had warned him to stay put and take it easy, but all he wanted to do was see you.

As soon as he left his assigned room, he immediately bumped into you. You had been waiting to be let in to see him. You took one look at the way he was patched up and tears welled into your eyes. He could tell you didn't mean to, you didn't want to worry him.

“Please don't cry,” he said softly, wiping your tears away. He couldn't help but smile at the sight of you. “I'm perfectly fine.”

“I'm not crying,” you said with a scowl on your face, but the way your voice cracked was not very convincing. “I'm so glad you're back.”

“Can't live without me?” he teased. He knew you couldn't live without him, but he couldn't either. Yet, now he even hated the thought of you living without him, let alone with someone else, so here he was. And here he always will be.

“Shut up,” you said. “You know I can't.”

He knew, but hearing you say that still made his heart flutter. He reached out with his right hand to grab your left and held it carefully. He leaned in to kiss you, but it was so much sloppier than the careful ones he usually gave you. Forgive him, he was terribly exhausted.

“I can't either,” he said, snuggling his face into your shoulder.

“You can't?” you asked, a little surprised. It broke his heart that he had possibly made you feel such way.

“Not for a second,” he said, still avoiding eye contact. “I'd rather die than wake up without you next to me, actually.”

You wouldn’t reply, so he brought his head back up to look at you.

“Oh, don't cry,” he said and chuckled a little, wiping your tears away as he kissed you again. “I didn't mean to make you cry.”

He hadn't let go of your hand and although he was gentle, he held it firmly. He didn't say anything, but he vowed to himself that he'd put a ring on it someday. He wasn't letting go of you ever.

You were the one for him.

[seiwas]

sellllllll it's meeeeee. hehehehehehehehehhehe

so for ur writing exercises.... deku + light? please? pretty please?

:3c

heheh heheh hehe niku. this will be the death of me. me writing izuku for the first time 🥲 i will only do this for you </3

contains: established relationship, spoilers for the end of the manga, aged up deku but sometime in between the final outcome (he doesn't get the h*** s*** from bakugo yet), mentions of sex and scars

deku + light

izuku only sleeps with the lights off.

it isn't uncommon; many people you know can't sleep with even just a sliver of light turned on somewhere in the room. but the difference with izuku, you learn, is not that he's unable to stand the light―it's that he refuses to.

you quickly pick up on it the first few times he sleeps over.

he fidgets in bed, pretty badly, actually. the nightlight you sleep with glows a warm yellow, illuminating the side of your face and coating him in its afterglow. you chalk it up to nerves, how he pulls at his sleeves and adjusts his position constantly; he is, after all, one of the most anxious people you know.

and this relationship―it's new. heck, even you feel a little jittery with his arm wrapped around you.

the rhythmic tapping on your hip only increases pace. you don't think he realizes it, so your hand gently reaches for his, intertwining your fingers as you turn around in his arms.

he's close, nearly touching you nose-to-nose; the proximity leaves you fuzzy, a little ticklish, so you giggle, a soft "oops," as the freckles dusting his face almost glisten under the warm light.

"hi," you whisper, meeting his eyes; they stare back at you wide in surprise, "can't sleep?"

he looks almost guilty at your question, as if you’ve caught him with the one thing he's been trying to keep from you.

"just—" his voice comes out louder than intended, prompting him to chuckle nervously as he readjusts his volume, "just winding down, sorry."

you inch closer, nuzzling his nose lightly, "it's okay."

"did i wake you?" he asks, cheeks flushing pink as his eyebrows furrow in immediate concern. his expression is something caught between stifling a grin and feeling sorry.

you shake your head against the pillow you share, strands of your hair tangling with his. "just winding down," you tease, watching as his gaze turns softer, eyelids drooping heavier.

sometimes, you think, izuku holds the world in his eyes―a deep, dark green, the color of life. most times, they look at you with wonderment, bright and alive; photos from inko tell you they're the eyes of his inner child.

on nights like this one, however, they hide a depth in them weighted by what you can only assume is time, and all that has happened to him in such a short span of it.

you try your best to understand what lies beneath them, knowing full well he'll never tell you outright what truly bothers him.

"is it the light?" you bring up, some time after laying in silence.

"hm?" he clarifies.

"do you have a hard time sleeping with the nightlight?"

his eyes widen briefly once more, as if shocked that you've caught him again. these split second reactions are ones you've learned to be attentive to when it comes to izuku.

"no," he tries to lie, but you know better as you turn to your nightstand and reach for its switch, "you don't–"

"it was hurting my eyes," you quickly make up an excuse, tucking yourself closer under his chin as you cut off his attempt to deny it again.

finding out that the light was the problem was the easy part—

you'd begun to notice much earlier on that izuku was barely rested on the nights he'd spend at your place. it was only when your old nightlight broke that you began to notice him waking up much later than you did, groggily rousing from a deep sleep.

—what was hard, was figuring out why.

at first, you suspected it was his scars.

"s-sorry, it's not—" he'd warned you, right as your hands gripped the hem of his shirt the first time you were about to have sex, "—it's not nice."

you didn't care though; you still don't care, and you've made that abundantly clear to him since. you love izuku and all his parts―all the nicks and jaggedy pieces of skin that make up who he is.

when you eventually ask him about it, with a request that he be honest with you for once, he tells you that it is and it isn't―the reason why he exclusively sleeps with the lights off, that is.

it's an odd, comforting relationship he has with his body—that he is simultaneously grateful and sorry for how its become a canvas, both painted and marred to symbolize japan’s historic last stand.

you find out the real reason when you catch him staring at his hands.

he does it often, when he thinks you aren't looking—his fists bunched up in the same way he used to watch the power of one for all course through his fingertips; the same way he used to prepare them in battle.

there’s a faraway look in his eyes that lingers, you notice—a little wistful if anything.

“do you miss it?” you finally ask. he gives you the same shocked look he does every time, as if he’s been caught with a secret he’s been trying to hide.

he’s learned a fair bit about you now, too, though—lying to you is futile when you’ve perfected reading his truth. he stares at his fists again as you take a seat beside him, moving to give you space. you rest your head on his shoulder gently, waiting.

“sometimes,” he admits, but you know it’s an understatement.

“i think about the vestiges a lot. i miss them the most, i think,” he continues, clenching his fists tightly, “i always try to reach out to them, but i guess it doesn’t work that way.”

“i… i try to replicate the right conditions every night, but…” then he lets go, stretching his fingers out wide. the scars on the surface ripple through his skin, telling its own story.

you hum, acknowledging what he means. silence sits with the two of you as you take his hand in yours, slowly unfurling his fingers until his palm reveals itself to you. it’s rough to the touch, seasoned with hard work and all that he’s been through.

“is that why you prefer the dark?” you ask softly, after some time.

it's not often that you stay up later than izuku does. when you do though, you catch him shifting in bed, moving from side-to-side. you pretend you aren't awake, but you hear him mumble their names, dwindling in volume as he dozes off to sleep.

he stares at his palm for a moment before he admits quietly, "yeah." his brows furrow as if contemplating whether to say more, but he shakes his head, dark green strands swaying to the beat of his embarrassed chuckle, "nevermind, it's silly."

"it's not."

you intertwine your fingers, sandwiching his hand between yours. a slight sheen glosses over his eyes as he tilts his head up to look at you. he draws in a breath, before it spills over.

"it's..." he finds the words, and you squeeze his hand in comfort, "it's easier to believe it was all real when the lights are out, and that maybe it can happen again."

[hotluncheddie]

... do you think that Steve would keep wearing his old clothes for as long as he could as he puts on weight, secretly enjoying the pinches of his waistband as it gets tighter, revelling in the little sharp reminders that he's getting bigger? 👀

i completely and utterly, totally so so so much think he would

i am obsessed with this anon, 👀 big time

this was going to be short but then while i love 'and they were roommates' it was also like, well, obviously, robin is there too...

and then i also had to include my actual baby girl steves blue henley

and then a safety pin to keep his jeans closed was just too good to pass up..

so, ya, have nearly 4k of belly and pining and confessions :3c

-

Every week, it takes Steve just a little bit longer to get dressed. 

He has to suck in a little more, feel his sides spill out of the waistband a little further and his belly is fighting harder and harder against the zipper of his jeans. Taking up more and more room. Until, one day, it's all going to burst. 

Steve cant wait. 

‘You’re really packing it on Harrington.’ He'll whisper to himself. Smoothing his hand down his shirt and feeling where his belly button is indented in the fabric. He’s started untucking them to try and hide how his jeans button is straining. But now his shirts are straining too. It won't be long until they can't contain him, letting a sliver of belly show no matter how much he pulls at them. 

Today he's wearing the blue henley that used to sit comfortably at his hips, a loose layer over a t-shirt. But, now it sits snug and taught, his wider shoulders filling it up, lower band snapped against the underside of his growing spare tire. Still just reaching his jeans though, thankfully, and covering how his white t-shirt does not - slipping up to his navel with the slightest of moments. 'Really let yourself go.' he mumbles, gut stirring with heat, twisting to look at his ass and belly from the side, liking they way they both jiggle just little now when he moves. 

Then he goes and makes breakfast. 

He's been on a cereal kick lately, keeps craving the sweet and sugary whole milk at the end of the bowl. He usually has some to go with his toast and eggs. 

He says good morning to Eddie, who just grunts at him, like normal, and reaches for the box on the top shelf. 

'...Steve.' Eddie says, slowly, coffee mustn't have kicked in yet. 

Steve is focused on pouring his cereal. What?' He asks. 

'Steve.' Comes Eddie again, clearer now. 

Eddie.' Steve finally looks over, Eddies eyes wide. 

Eddie gestures to his own midsection 'you, your.' He mumbles, circling the whole area, his lean stomach and hips.

'The shirt looks good on you Ed's I dunno what you want.’

Eddie coughs 'I can see your, like, everything.' 

Steve looks down at himself, his stretching had pulled the henley up, belly and sides keeping it up. 'Oh.'  He says, pale skin and dark hair on display. The stretch marks at his hips can be seen too, pooling over the waistband. His cheeks go as pink as those new lines. He really has packed it on. 

'Thanks man.' He says, trying to keep his voice level. He readjusts his shirt, pulls at his jeans that don't budge, shivers.

He has two bowls of cereal with his toast and eggs that morning. Eddie excusing himself quickly as Steve chugged the last of the sweetened milk. 

Leaving Steve alone to pat his stomach and settle the food there, dig the heel of his hand into his crotch and simmer over the mix of feeling he has for the whole situation. 

He'll deal with that properly later though, after work, he doesn't want to go through re-buttoning his jeans again just yet. 

-

A few weeks later Steve takes so long to get dressed he almost doesn't have time for breakfast. 

Or breakfast with Eddie as it's seemed to have become. Eddie always staying at the table even after he finishes his second cup of coffee, waiting and watching as Steve makes and eats his meal. Sometimes pushing to near fullness if there's time, sometimes still bloated and sluggish from the night before. (He sneaks snacks home sometimes, to have after dinner, after everyone is in bed. Extra to pack on top of whatever he had that day, help him reach a fullness that makes sparks burst behind his eyes when he finally lets himself touch, lets himself sink and feel and finish all over his swollen gut.)

And Steve thinks, sometimes, that Eddie stays through his breakfast so he can watch. Thinks he waits for Steve to have his fill, maybe enjoys their time together in a similar way Steve does. Always gravitating towards Eddies company, harbouring what he has accepted is a massive crush on the man. 

Steve really hopes he not reading Eddie wrong. 

He mentions it to Robin, who always leaves the apartment before the both of them. Mentions how Eddie looks at him, stares, his gaze lingering and roaming over the parts of Steve that are changing. Steve’s cheeks pink, mumbling his way though a half explanation that he wants Eddie to look. That he likes how his body has changed. 

Robin says she'll keep an eye out, do some ‘research’, but only if he promises to keep her out of whatever weird sex shit it might involve. 

Steves cheeks heat further, nervous - what if he is wrong and Eddie thinks it’s weird too, doesn't like it. Doesn't actually like Steve or what he's chosen to do to himself. Maybe Steve is the real freak in all this. 

But Robin hugs him, called him a dingus in that way that sounds like I love you. Corrects and soothes - that she's not judging, doesn't think he's weird, and Eddie would never judge him either. 

Even if Steve is wrong about how Eddie looks at him, he'd never stop being Steves friend, she knows that much for sure. 

She's right, he guesses. And it’s his body, his life, it shouldn’t matter how he looks. He just never wants to loose them… 

And then he's forced to face it all head on. Test the waters - see Eddies reaction to a situation that solidly fits into the realm of what Steve’s discovered he’s into. The weird sex shit as Robin artfully put it. (Eddies opinion on it all still very much up for debate, even after Robin watched Eddie watch Steve eat a whole large cheese pizza to himself - she said she couldn't tell if he was impressed in a bro way or a gay way.)

But, Steve takes so long to get dressed that morning because no amount of sucking in, or laying down or pulling up then pulling down, will put his button through the hole. 

His pants won't do up. 

He gets the zipper half way, and his shirt is long enough to hide the worst of it, but he needs a safety pin, if he's going to get to work and look half way presentable.

'Eddie?' He calls, from right by his door. 

There's shuffling, the scrape of a chair. 'Yeah?' Eddie asks.

'Uh, I have good news and bad news' Steve shouts, not really sure what to say. 

'Okay...' Eddie says, slowly, closer now. Right by Steves door. 'Whats the bad news?' 

Steve swallows, bites his lip. 'I ah, I need your help.' He settles on. 

There's a pause, Steves heart hammers in his ears. 'Steve, what? Are you okay?’ Eddie says, confused. 'I'm coming in, okay?' And he pushes at the door before Steve can give an answer, pushes as he saying it, a tinge of stress to his voice. 

Steve is standing with his shirt up, staring at himself. Belly pushing the flaps of jeans apart, muffin top and stretch marks on display. He feels himself go red, palms sweating over how Eddie will react to this, to him. 

'Just, do-do you have a safety pin?' Steve stammers, embarrassed, but, he really needs one. 

Eddies eyes seem to be glued to his middle. 'I, yeah, yeah man.' He says and steps away, leaving the room, pulling his eyes away last. 

Steve sits down heavily on the bed, burying his red face in his hands and groaning.  

Eddie ambles back into the room, pin in hand. 'Here, sit back.' He says gently, kneeling between Steve thighs. god. 

Steve rests back on his palms and then drops onto his elbows once it becomes apparent that hands aren’t enough to give Eddie the access he needs. 

And then Eddie’s nimble fingers are pulling at his waistband, his warm skin brushing against the sensitive underside of Steve’s stomach. And Eddies eyes are soft, and kind. 

Steve has to bite his lip to stifle a noise, feeling it in his groin. embarrassed by the whole situation. 

That he likes it. 

That he likes it so much. 

He’s turned on by so much that’s going on right now. But it’s all too raw, and he feels so vulnerable under Eddie. Under the dream that he might like it too. Under the fear that he won’t, won’t like Steve because of this. Or, maybe worse, could relent and just like Steve in despite of it. 

And thankfully his jeans are so tight there’s no way of knowing that his cock is half hard as Eddie tugs lightly on the secured pin. And Steve aches because there’s a pillow crease on Eddies cheek and sleep still stuck to an eyelash and his t-shirt is worn and stretched and faded and Steve yearns. He likes Eddie so much, has done for so long. 

But he ate himself out of his jeans. Did it every morning with Eddie’s eyes on him and he still doesn’t know that it means. Doesn't know what to say. What to do. 

And Eddies eyes are soft, all of him so kind. 

‘And the good news?' Eddie asks, looking up again at Steve finally. 

Steve makes a noice, confused. He's feeling foggy and strung out and he wishes so bad he didn’t have to work, could just burrow under his covers and hide instead. 

‘You said there was good news and bad news, what’s the good news?’ Eddie smiles up at him. He’s so pretty in the morning, all day. Always. 

'You uh, just, won't need to sit through me eating breakfast this morning.' Steve says, huffing but it doesn't really feel funny. He feels exposed and too hot. But maybe it is funny, in fact, that he also feels really really hungry. 

And Eddie’s eyes widen slightly in shock, his cheeks dusting pretty pink. 'I uh, really like having breakfast with you dude, don't uh, you skipping? Thats not good news.' And his hand is on Steve’s knee, big brown eyes looking up at him. 

Steve bites his lip again, mouth morphing into a small shy smile he can’t stifle. He nods. 

He goes and makes breakfast. 

-

Steve gets new jeans and keeps eating while Eddie watches. They haven't said anything but sometimes Eddie refills Steves cereal bowl unprompted, sometimes he sits with Steve and Robin at dinner too. 

The next time Steve eats a whole cheese pizza to himself while Robin and Eddie are present they’re all high but Robin is now positive that he’s impressed in a gay way. ‘A very, very gay way Steve. I saw that pillow move into his lap, shoot your shot bud, weird sex shit and all.’ 

And Steve is growing impatient, the tension and subtext sending him a little insane. He just, he needs to know. If Eddie could like him back, if their friendship can survive Eddie not reciprocating. If Steve can keep exploring this part of himself - but with someone. If he can have everything he ever dreamed of, maybe, with Eddie. 

Steve needs to know, so one Saturday, he goes out and he buys breakfast…

It’s a few months later and Eddie notices that Steve recently upgraded his shirts, again. Now they sit looser, flowing down and following out over the crest of his belly. Eddie thinks they're the same jeans though, that Steve bought at the end of that day, the day with the safety pin. The first time he got to touch. 

He then spent the day thinking about how he actually feels about Steve. Half freaking out, half feeling like everything finally made sense. Too scared to act on what he realised were real feelings, a real crush. He thought about it, at least. 

And now that Eddie’s thought about it, come to some conclusions for himself. He notices more. Like how he notices that, now, after what is arguable a pretty short amount of time, Eddie can see that these jeans are tight too. Straining, restricting Steves movements slightly as they fight against his thicker thighs. He notices Steve wearing sweats a lot more, or just not changing out of his pyjama pants, if he's home from work. The drawstrings on them never pulled tight. The seams of them though, along his thighs and over his ass. Those are pulled tight. Pulled to bursting. 

Eddie doesn’t know what to do.

They still have breakfast together every morning. Steve upgrading to a cheese and egg omelette, toast, and a bigger bowl of cereal in the mornings now. Eddie still sticking to two cups of coffee and wandering eyes. Allowing himself to join Steve and Robin for dinner when he can, when schedules match up. Its fun, ordering pizza and watching movies, but Eddie has had to get skilful with their pillows, subtle as he pulls them onto his lap. Due to Steve now being in the habit of finishing large cheese pizzas all to himself. In his tightening pyjama pants, lips shiny with grease. 

Eddie kind of feels like a freak, noticing these things about Steve. But, it’s Steve. And maybe he’s reading it all wrong, but he thinks Steve maybe likes what Eddie likes. Thinks maybe they might be more similar than he ever thought. 

Eddie doesn’t know what to do. But something’s gotta give. 

It’s Saturday when it all comes to a head, Steve comes home with breakfast for them both, jeans criminally tight and slung low like most things he owns, allowing his belly and soft love handles to sit above, to breathe. His t-shirt is one of the older ones, criminally, obscenely tight, highlighting his curves and width and softness. But still long enough for him to be covered fully, fabric tight but covering the jeans waistband fully. 

Surely Steve won't hate him for it, that Eddie is a little breathless over the sight of him, not once Eddie explains. Explains that it's all of it, all of him. That it’s always just been Steve, with or without the weight. 

Robin's away visiting her parents and Eddie said yes to an egg and cheese bagel. Steve sets the contents of the brown bag out on the table, bagel and a hash brown for Eddie, large coffee. Two bagels and four hash browns, a side of sausage, an orange juice and coffee, for Steve. 

He also bought a dozen donuts, for some reason. 

Steve sits down heavily in the chair. A soft oof as he lays a hand on the side of his gut and reaches forward for his juice, chugging about half in one sweet go. 

Eddie smiles at him over the rim of his coffee, Steve blushing ever so slightly. Eyelashes casting shadows across his softer cheeks. 

‘Thanks Stevie, this is really nice.’ Eddie says, doesn’t say that it almost feels like a date. Could feel like a date. Something intimate about it being a quiet Saturday morning alone together. 

'Almost feels like a date.' Steve says, taking his first big bite of sausage. 

Eddie coughs. Steve’s blushing again. He shifts in his chair, but he has this set to his jaw, like he’s being brave, like it’s scary, but he’s being brave. 

Eddie puts his coffee down, picks up his sandwich and holds it out to Steve in cheers. ‘To our first date.’ He says, smiling, looking Steve in the eye. 

Steve laughs, sunshine and fizzy apple juice. He cheers’ Eddie’s sandwich with his own. 

Eddie can be brave too. 

They talk about work, and Robin, and Dustin back home. About when Eddie’s next thinking of visiting Wayne and how they still need to fix the lock in the bathroom door. Eddie makes his way slowly though his food, Steve is a little quicker but he has more. Big bites filling his cheeks and a dollop of sauce falling onto his shirt. Eddie smiles and hands him a napkin. Steve smiles back, licking his fingers clean and letting that hand migrate back to the side of his belly. Fingers rubbing and prodding lightly again. Eddie tries not to stare. 

‘I probably shouldn’t eat that.’ Steve says, motioning to his second bagel, crushing the hash brown bag in his fist. The last part of his breakfast. His belly noticeably a little bigger, a little fuller on his thighs. 

‘Why?’ Eddie asks, taken aback. 

Steve huffs, self deprecating. ‘I dunno if you’ve noticed Ed’s but, I’m getting kinda fat.’ He says, embarrassed sort of smile on his face. ‘Who’m I kidding, of course you noticed, you had to help me when I outgrew those jeans last month.’ He dips his head, hand rubbing over his face and then resting at the top of his stomach, smoothing over the dome, belly button outlined in the tight fabric. 

Eddie snaps his eyes away from the movement. ‘Steve.’ He says. ‘You, you look good.’ He swallows. ‘You look, really good. And I, I think if you wanna eat that bagel then, well then you should.’ Eddie stammers, but his voice is clear and strong, he feels fire in his eyes. 

Because it’s true, everything, all of it. 

Steve’s smile stretches, blooming across his face, blinding, beautiful. ‘Yeah?’ He asks softly, sweetly, with awe. 

‘Yeah, yes.’ Eddie says, nodding his head and leaving forward to nudge the bagel closer to Steve. He wants him to eat it, Eddie realises. ‘I, um, I want you to, to eat it.’ He says, clearing his throat but refusing to look away from the bright eyes before him. 

Steve breaks eye contact first, ducking his head and unwrapping the sandwich with his big, delicate fingers. Taking a bite and letting the grease run down his wrist. 

Steve swallows, licking it up, eyes back on Eddie. 

‘Fuck.’ he breaths. Fingers fiddling with his empty coffee cup.

He scoots his chair around, bringing it in close to where Steve sits. Needing to share space with him, feel his body heat. Aching to touch.

Steve keeps his eyes on Eddie as he moves, biting and chewing and swallowing his way through the bagel methodically. Like it’s a reflex, an extension of himself. 

Eddie reaches forward and wipes away a rogue smear of ketchup from Steve’s cheek with his thumb. Bringing it up to his own mouth and sucking it clean. It’s sweet, and tangy. 

‘I gotta, uh, show you something. A, a secret.’ Steve says. Last bit of bagel held still in his fingers. Eyes wide and a little crazed, voice tinged with fear or glee; Eddie’s not really sure. 

‘Okay?’ He asks, voice quieter than he means. Reverent. 

Steve shifts slightly and presses his fingers into the bottom most curve of softness. Lifting his belly up and out of the way. Revealing his button and fly to Eddie. 

Which is no longer able to fasten, instead held together by a safety pin. The same one as before, on that morning. 

‘Fuck.’ Eddie shivers. Looks back up at Steve in awe. ‘Can i kiss you?' He rasps, fingers falling onto Steve’s thigh as he leans forward. 

Steve gasps quietly and nods, resettling his belly on his thighs. Eddie leans in further, their lips connecting. stars exploding behind his eyes. The soft press more infinite than anything he’s ever felt before. Because, maybe, maybe because it’s Steve. It’s Steve’s lips he’s kissing. He digs his fingers into the meat of Steve’s legs. Grounding himself in the kiss so he doesn’t float away entirely. 

Eddie lick over the seam of Steve’s lips lightly but Steve pulls away with a small gasp. Hand covering Eddie’s as he pants. ‘Sorry. Getting full.’ He huffs, blush rinsing on his cheekbones again. He shoves the last bit of bagel in his mouth and slouches further in the chair. He looks round and soft as he takes a deeper breath of air. 

Eddie laughs, delighted and leans forward once more, knees knocking against Steve’s. ‘Can I?’ He asks, hand hovering over the warm side of belly that Steve’s been petting all morning. Eddie swallows thickly as his eyes flick from Steve’s face back down to his hand. 

Steve smiles, nods. The blush running down his neck. 

The first press of fingertips on warm skin is heaven. Eddie almost can’t believe it’s his hand doing it. Finally. Steve is so soft; pliant and arching under Eddie’s soft hold. 

He splays his palm over it, cupping it with both hands and marvelling at the width, the weight. 

Steve’s finger taps Eddie on the chin. He looks up, snapping his mouth shut. Steve smiling at him, eyes sleepy and relaxed and he looks so happy. 

‘What took us so long?' Steve sighs, eyes roaming over Eddie’s face. Arching up further into Eddie’s hands. 

'Was worried you'd think I was weird.' Eddie admits quietly, leaning forward to steal another soft kiss, hands rubbing small circles into the flesh beneath his hands, can feel Steve’s short breaths fanning over his face, his lips shiny with spit. 

Steve smiles, charming and biting and so so Steve. ‘You? Weird? Never.' He teases. 

‘Wanna be weird together?’ Eddie asks, licking over Steve’s lips, making them wet. 

‘How about uh, you pass me those donuts?' Steve motions with his head and spreads his legs wider in the chair. His hand dwarfing Eddie’s as he uses it up to lift his belly again. Grunting as he forces the safety pin open and tugs it from his jeans. 

Eddie lingers, enamoured, helping to hold Steve’s belly out of the way. Watching his sides spill wider once they’re released from the tight denim. 

Steve tosses the pin on the table and resettled his belly again. Looking pointedly at Eddie and lifting his chin again cheekily. 

Eddie places the box within reach. Steve plucking one from the lineup. 

Steve doesn’t say anything as he ploughs through the first. Only half way through the second does he pull Eddie’s hand more firmly onto his gut, urging him to move them again. 

‘Feels good.' Steve says around a mouthful, sighing. He’s eating them in two or three bites, already on his third. 'like, stretched but, grounded, maybe.' 

‘Oh, it’s, so, you do like it? The, the weight?' Eddie asks. 

'Mostly I just like eating. But, can't say the weight is anything bad... Just, it feels good, all of it.' Steve talks with his mouth full, sugary glaze stuck in the stubble on his upper lip. 

Eddie nods, cheeks slightly pink. He reaches over and picks up a donut, scooting closer so he’s between Steves spread thighs. The view of his belly a little more above, pale skin spilling out of his hiked up T-shirt. Spreading over his open fly. He has a stretch mark on his arm, on the inside, over his tricep. Eddie never notices it before. 

He holds the donut up to Steves mouth, he'd only have to lean forward slightly to take a bite. 'This okay?' Eddie rasps, hand shaking slightly. Steve looking up at him though his lashes. 

He rests a hand over Eddie’s own on his stomach again. Smoothing them down and then up, causing his shirt to lift more, sitting snug under his pecs. He dips forward, chair creaking, biting into the donut enough for Eddie to feel his fingers brush Steves chin. His cheeks bulge as he chews, hand moving again.

‘More than okay Ed's, this is, it’s.' Steve can’t finish so Eddie shoves the rest of the donut into his mouth. He doesn't need him to explain, rationalise what he wants. 

He just wants Steve to feel good. 

Eddie reaches for another donut. 

-

WG Taglist (open): @scoops-aboy86 @chickensinrainboots @cheesedoctor

[hey-heigo]

Chapter 17

continuation of byakuya's no good very bad worst shit ass day of his life (so far)(!!!)

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

this chapter went a little different from how i originally planned bc I was going to make byakuya much more stupid. but. he needs to fly off the handle several times later so. we can't let loose all at once

to be very fair to makoto he did not want to do that. and yet. here we are

the king of kings!! @digitaldollsworld

Content warning tags: ableist language from various characters, Byakuya's panic spiral, mild self-harm reference

< previous - from start - next >

Time seems to grind to a halt. His breath is still caught in his throat, halfway through a relieved sigh as he had been waiting - expecting - for Makoto to help him. To pull up some vague, hidden piece of evidence to clear him of any suspicion, to cleverly point out some irrefutable proof that had previously lay unseen.

But instead - his heartbeats feel too heavy. His breathing feels too light, deprived of any real oxygen. His head pounds in the same way it did when he was struck earlier, with a dull, pulsing ring that washes out everything around him.

He prided himself, once, on being able to read a person’s intent. To judge just when and why they might choose to abandon him, to cross him, to try and use him for their own intents. For that reason, he supposes, is why this sickly, sticky feeling of dread is so new to him. He’s never known real betrayal before.

His eyes dart around the room, but the others don’t seem to believe Makoto just yet. Even Owada seems taken aback, stock still and quiet. Only Kirigiri seems unsurprised - or maybe, he was only imagining it, the tranquil quality of her silence. As if she were merely observing it all, far out of their reach.

“Seriously??” Syo’s voice is a grating jeer. “You’re telling me this whole time he had no idea what I looked like? No wonder he didn’t fall for me at first sight!”

“I…don’t think that’s the reason why,” Hagakure says, though he seems utterly bewildered. “But, that can’t be right, right? I’ve seen him reading loads of times. And he practically lives in the library, y’know?”

“Yeah, and he can do things just fine for himself.” Asahina says in agreement. “I mean, he does his own laundry and stuff, and he knows this place way better than me at least. I didn’t even know where the A/V room was during the first motive, I just sorta followed him.”

“Yes, this is sort of…” For the first time, Celeste sounds genuinely surprised, her usually unphased demeanor wavering, her accent slipping for a moment. “Ahem. While I did note that he sometimes seemed a bit…eccentric, so to speak, nothing of his actions suggested that he was impaired.”

Their skepticism is a small relief. He nods jerkily, unable to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth to verbalize his agreement. But it’s a small, pathetic movement that goes unnoticed, hardly amounting to anything in this large courtroom.

And their disbelief only goes so far. Ogami speaks up now, for the first time since the trial began, her low voice immediately silencing the whispers.

“I performed a concussion test on him earlier,” She says, gruffly. “As Kyoko had asked me to. He was lucid when answering my questions, and he didn’t seem to exhibit any symptoms that couldn’t be attributed to other reasons.” There’s a slight creak of wood, as she shifts her weight on the stand. “However, I did notice that his pupils were…strange.”

“My- what?” He sputters now, too suddenly, too loudly. He reaches up to touch slightly-trembling fingers to a closed eye, feeling the smooth bump of the cornea twitching beneath the thin skin of his eyelid as if he might be able to identify the damage that way. Why hadn’t she mentioned this earlier? Why bring it up now? “What do you mean, ‘strange’?!”

There’s a slight, panicked edge to his voice that he hopes no one catches, but this was the first time he heard that there could be physical evidence to his affliction. “It was a bit hard to test without the proper tools, but I noticed that they do not react much to changes in light.” Ogami explains. “The shape is also slightly…off. If I had to describe it, I would say that there is…a warping around the edges.”

“And you didn’t think to mention it?!”

“I assumed it was either due to the head injury, or, it was genetic.” There’s an apologetic note to her words. “Given your usual behavior, I…didn’t think it was important.”

Not important. As if she could know what was important here.

“I. Am not. Blind.” He snarls stiffly. “Obviously, I have never taken a close enough look at my own pupils to notice that deformation, but it has never affected my daily life. I am not disabled, nor have I ever been.”

“I find it hard to believe that you have never been aware of it.” Kyoko remarks, tone clipped. “I can’t imagine someone of your status being ignorant of anything concerning your physical health.”

“Then you can rest easy knowing that I am perfectly healthy.” He snaps back, venom flying off his words.

Distantly, he knows that he is digging a pit for himself. That admitting to this would help clear him of any suspicion at all. But he doesn’t care; he would rather die than suffer such indignity. That was what he’s always known, taught by his butler, and then reinforced by all his surroundings afterwards, his siblings, his father - better to perish and let your enemies cry with relief and count themselves lucky, than let them mock you as you dig your own grave.

“You should just admit it already. You are drawing this out to be unnecessarily long, or would you rather doom us all?”

“I don’t see why I should cooperate with someone who has been making mindless accusations at me all this while.”

There’s a tense, snappish tension between him and Kirigiri. A livewire current. A piece of elastic stretched taut. He glares, and to him, her blurred form looks like that of a reared snake.

“Um…” Asahina speaks up, her hand tentatively raised. “If Byakuya’s really blind, can’t we just test it?”

“Excuse me?”

“I-I mean! Not saying that you are blind, or anything,” She says this quickly, carefully, like soothing a spooked horse. “But, we’re not going to get anywhere if you two just keep arguing back and forth, and it’ll be really quick! Like, Sakura, can you hold up a few fingers?” She complies silently, one arm remaining crossed across her chest, the other raised to her side. “How many is she holding up?”

He tries not to squint, but he has no idea. Two? Three? It's nothing more that a blurred, brown shape. “You can’t be serious.” He almost laughs, but the sound he makes is derisive and bitter.

“Y-yes, this is-! Unfair!” Now it’s Yamada, speaking up again. “In case no one else has noticed, Mister Togami is lacking his spectacles! Asking such a thing of him…it’s akin to bullying!”

He’s oddly assertive about this, and Byakuya watches as he pushes his own glasses a little higher. For some reason, being considered something of an equal by Yamada irritates him further. “Shut up.” Who asked for his help.

“Yes, be still please,” Celeste sighs dismissively. “We are playing a game with our lives. This is hardly the time to be discussing moralistic issues.” There’s a slight metallic tap as she raps her silver finger guards against her rings. “But you do make a point. Byakuya does not have his glasses at the moment. It would be difficult to try and confirm anything without them.”

Thank goodness for those with common sense. He doesn’t look to his side, where she was standing, but he swears that he can see her eyes glancing at him, the unnatural red of her pupils bright on her pale face. “Yes,” he agrees, seizing upon it. “And they were broken earlier, thanks to Owada. Nearsightedness runs on my mother’s side, and the former Togami head was farsighted. I will admit that much, is that what you wanted? Kyoko?”

He’s rambling. He’s aware of it. But there are a few nods exchanged, and Asahina scratches at the back of her head awkwardly, as if embarrassed. Kirigiri, however, is still unmoved.

“No. When I say you are blind, I do not mean without your glasses. Or there wouldn’t have been a point in bringing it up in the first place.” Kirigiri shifts her weight slightly, the sway of her stance accompanied by the creak of wood. “Even without your glasses, you cannot do tasks such as reading. I imagine you’ve managed everything else by means of careful practice, but this is the one thing you can’t manage on your own.”

“Hey, Kyoko-” Makoto looks nervous, unsure whether to face him or her. “That-”

“And how do you plan to prove this?” Byakuya snarls. He feels a small flare of triumph, even despite everything, the looming threat of death. “As we found before, I don’t have my glasses. Did you happen to pick those up as well? Did you repair them for me while you were at it?”

Instead of offering a retort, or any sort of reply, she sighs. A soft, tired sound.

“Makoto.” She isn’t facing the other boy, but her tone is firm as she addresses him, and a little exasperated. She doesn’t say anything more, but Makoto seems to understand, and his hands drop to his sides.

“There is a way to prove it.” His voice is quiet. Quiet, and…sad, somehow. Defeated. “Byakuya…please show us your handbook.”

The realization sets in slowly. He’s already been betrayed by Makoto twice now, but still, he finds himself stunned, slack-jawed. This one was the worst by far - not only was he actively helping Kirigiri, he was betraying Chihiro as well, risking revealing everything to that accursed bear. And after all the lengths Byakuya had gone through to protect this secret.

“What are you saying,” He says, and his voice has a humiliating tremor that matches how his hands shake, clutching at the rail. Surely, he’s heard wrong. Surely, Makoto would correct himself, take it back-

“Your handbook. Chihiro, he…he put a program on it that lets you be able to do stuff like tell the time. It also reads stuff aloud. And he did it after the motives got revealed, that night when Celeste saw you guys leaving the bathhouse.” He sounds so somber, so sad and grieving. He won’t meet Byakuya’s eyes. “He did it in exchange for you teaching him how to be strong, and self-confident - which you did, by telling him to go around talking to everyone else today.”

Without really thinking about it, his hand goes to his inner jacket pocket, where his handbook sits. His fingers close around the little device, the hard edges of plastic and metal pressing into the creases of his palm. He feels a little like he’s been shot.

But he doesn’t bring it out. He glares instead, furiously, hatefully, at the boy standing just meters away. He - and Kirigiri too, most likely, Byakuya suspected that Makoto had already revealed everything that that woman - knew perfectly well the importance of Alter Ego, and why it could not, under any circumstances, be revealed. And they knew Byakuya was aware of this too, and they were holding this fact hostage, over his head.

(I could, some sore, beaten part of him thinks with poisonous intent, try and claim responsibility for Chihiro’s murder. I could say that they’re wrong. That I lured Chihiro to the bathhouse with the intent of making him less wary, easier to isolate. That he was so weak and trusting and stupid that killing him was a simple manner. That I mimicked Syo’s modus operandi to throw suspicion off of me.)

The mere thought was shameful, but it was his pride, wounded and bitter, that was seriously considering it, if only for some semblance of control. The barest reassurance that he had any real weight at all in this trial. And all he would need to do is open his mouth and say the words.

But instead, he bites down on his inner cheek, hard enough for blood to trickle out the corner of his mouth, hard enough for the pain to rival the buzzing in his temples. And tightens his grip momentarily, just enough to feel the faint, humming warmth of the handbook against his sweating palm, and exhales slowly.

“...Fine. Fine.” He spits, angry, defeated, exhausted. He’s sick of this. He just wants it to be over. “Yes. I’m blind. I have been so since we first woke up in this school. Are you happy now?”

Makoto looks down, his face shadowed by his hair. Kirigiri tilts her head slightly, a motion that’s not quite a nod but more of a bow.

“Wait, so then-” Asahina’s voice, confused and a little hesitant, pipes up. “If you’ve been…y’know, this whole time, but only after we got to this school…does that mean the Mastermind did this to you, somehow?”

“That’s what I would like to know, myself.” He turns to look at Monokuma, and finds the bear lounging across its throne, a bucket of popcorn resting precariously on the armrest. The repugnant toy giggles, and swings itself upright, spilling a handful of white puffs all over.

“Gosh, I wonder?” The thing taps at its chin, voice taking on a wondering tone. “Of course, I want this game to be fair and give you all a level playing field. I believe in equality after all! …Though this has made for so many entertaining developments, so…I figured I’d leave it as is. Besides, you’ve adapted quite well, haven’t you Mister Togami?” It cackles, paws clutching at its belly. “GIven how well you did hiding it from everyone, I think it’s fine if we leave it like this, don’t you think?”

He wants to cross the courtroom and throttle the stupid thing this instant. All he can do is glare murderously, lips twisted into a snarl.

There’s a sharp clap that has most people jumping. The source of the sound is Kirigiri, whose hands are raised, and pressed together. “Let’s move on.” Her voice is firm, with no room for arguing. “All we’ve done so far is clear one person’s innocence. We still need to identify the real killer.”

And that was it. The most disgusting moment of his life, over just like that, ended by her words. He knows that there’s bound to be some kind of punishment in store for those who interrupt trials, but he briefly wonders if he can get his hands around her neck before Monokuma can react.

Owada jerks at Kirigiri’s words, startled out of his own stunned silence. “W-wait,” He sounds panicked now, and of course he would be. His scapegoat is gone. “Then, if it’s not Byakuya, then who…?”

“Let’s consider what we know. Given how it’s not clear where the murder took place, it would have to be someone who had access to cleaning supplies or water, and has no alibi that can be verified when the murder occurred. For the most part, everyone here has an alibi that can be supported by at least one other person, but there are some that do not.” Kirigiri lists these calmly, and Byakuya imagines her cold gaze, flitting between each person in the room. “Mondo. Do you care to explain what you were doing prior to the body’s discovery?”

The effect is immediate. The other boy rears up, instantly furious. “The fuck are you trying to say? That I’m a murderer?!” He thunders. “Like I said earlier, I was taking care of my bro. You know that. Everyone knows that!”

“As you said earlier, Taka is currently compromised. He can’t give a testimony.” She shoots back without hesitation. “Your alibi is flawed.”

“Yeah? Well - well so’s yours!” He sputters. “Like- Syo might’ve been the one to find you in the bathroom, but that was just before Chihiro was found. Toko can’t say that you weren’t there the whole time, a-and even if you were, maybe the bathroom was where Chihiro died anyways!”

Owada may be stupid, but credit where credit was due, he was surprisingly quick to retort and pick at Kirigiri’s excuse. “I could not have cleaned up a murder scene in the bathroom so spotlessly in the time between Chihiro’s last sighting and the body discovery. As Makoto described earlier, the sinks of the bathroom were all dry-”

“There was that sheet, you could’ve used that before smashing Chihiro’s head over it. And there’s water in the toilets, right? And the girl’s bathroom was right next door!”

“...I’ll commend you for recognizing my perseverance. But I did not kill Chihiro.” She shakes her head. “If the only thing that will clear me is secondhand support to my alibi, then the only thing that needs to be done is to ask a witness. Toko?”

And she addresses Syo now, who just cocks her head for a moment, and shrugs. “I keep sayin’ to you guys, it’s lights out up there. There’s no telling when she’ll be back!”

Byakuya has had enough.

“Toko,” He says first, his voice low and hissing. Then, louder, building into a shout: “TOKO. Come out, NOW!”

“I don’t think it works like tha-” Syo’s words are cut off suddenly, and she collapses where she stands, like a puppet with her strings cut.

< previous - from start - next >

[bl-inkstone]

changed my tune so fast just bc of youtube autoplay lmao ok here have some sagau diluc thoughts

the player, diluc thinks, is an incredibly endearing being.

he's come a long way from the curt and wary attitude he used to put on around the traveler (and by extension, you), and today is one of those days where he finds himself privately thanking whatever powers there may be that allowed your paths to cross, with him staring at the reflection of you hidden deep within the traveler's eyes in the wake of his fight with the abyss that fateful night in mondstadt.

as one of the first people to have their constellations manifest in the sky of teyvat, diluc is more than aware that the fact that you still choose to ask for his company in your (or, well, the traveler's) journey is a gift he must treasure deeply. he knows that it is your presence in this world that gives vision bearers a chance to become something greater than they presently are. he also knows that he is no longer as impressive of a companion in battle as he used to be from back when the sky wasn't as bright as it is now (when the world you knew was smaller and he was still a figure that you could look to and proudly call "your main").

but you always come back to him. when he least expects it, you invite him back to your party and diluc can't help but privately think, privately wish, that it's because you're as fond of him as he is of you.

standing in silent prayer while you bestow upon him artifacts that thrum with divine power is an experience he can never tire of. the claymores you give him, the food he eats, all the materials he needs to reach a breakthrough in his capabilities... he understands that you aren't teyvat's creator, but this world and everything in it seems to exist just for you. you, the provider, the sustainer, the beloved of all. sometimes, diluc feels that everything he has and ever worked for have all been for the sake of one day meeting you.

he's not a religious man by principle, and he loathes people of absolute power. the only exception to this, however, is you. he's not foolish enough to believe you're some omnipotent, omniscient being that lords above all. no, you're not like that. he knows this because the longer he journeys with the traveler and feels their bond strengthen, the faint whispers he used to strain himself to hear grow clearer and clearer until finally, one day, he hears you.

you're both nothing and everything he thought you'd be. you view the world of teyvat with so much awe and joy that it's infectious, and he finds himself smiling more often than not to the privilege of finally hearing you. the traveler always looks at him with an understanding smile when diluc slows down in their travels to listen to you. he lives for the moments when you talk to yourself or to someone else (a companion of your own, maybe? from your place beyond the stars?) because this is how he learns. your favorite food, your favorite nations, your favorite "characters" and more. he holds every morsel of information you unknowingly give close to his chest where all his affections and wishes hide. he likes to think that this way, he can be closer and better for you.

but he knows he's not the only one who hears you, and it is the traveler that is closest to you out of all them. even so, diluc harbors no ill will to the avatar you chose to see and travel the world through. you're so fond of the traveler, and how could he ever come to loathe anything graced by your love?

he knows how to play nice. it helps that most of your other chosen are people he can find himself enjoying the company of as well. diluc understands that as much as he wants to be the sole holder of your attention, the world does not function that way. he's willing to extend an olive branch so long as they can all work together to keep you present in teyvat. he can worry about his more aggressive competition later when they aren't at risk of being caught in such an unsightly state by you — all that matters to him, right now, is how to keep your gaze on him for just a little longer and keep you from leaving him again.

it's a daunting thing to be so close to your grace. you take diluc to lands he'd never thought he'd visit again, to ruins of civilizations long past, domains with unimaginable horrors and have him run, claymore and vision burning at his hip, into fight after fight at your command. it's tiring at best and painful at worst, but you always take care to heal him and his companions before leaving, and you always lead them somewhere safe to rest until teyvat brightens and you come again.

his current companions (his "supports", he inwardly preens) rest and talk amongst themselves once they feel your presence leave. it used to be something they, your chosen, would panic over, but now that they've gotten more used to you and all the signs that pointed that yes, this is your will, they've grown to be able to tolerate the harrowing chill that comes when your warmth leaves them. diluc leans back on his chair in front of good hunter to observe them. they're all people he's come to grow fond of in time: diona was prickly, yes, but ha become pleasant to be around once they grew past their misunderstandings. the young master of the feiyun commerce guild, xingqiu, was also a reliable companion both in and outside of battle, and for all his faults, venti has proven himself to be a devout believer, unwilling to be a burden to you or the party you've guided him towards.

under normal circumstances, he never would've met and forged such strong bonds with these people. if not for your own interference, he never would've bothered getting to know any of them at all. though he may have his own gripes and complaints at times of how their dynamic works when you're not around, diluc is still fond of them. he's grateful for the opportunity to grow close to people again, and traveling the world alongside them and the traveler has become one of the few things he's begun to look forward to outside of his duties as "diluc, master of dawn winery." when the day is done and he can sit and relax with them in the tables in front of good hunter, he can rest in the company of others who understand the near-maddening pull in his chest that draws him to try and get closer, closer, to you.

it's days like these where diluc quietly thanks whatever it is brought you to them, and prays that one day, he will no longer have to search through the traveler's eyes to see you.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

｡ﾟ( ﾟஇ‸இﾟ)ﾟ｡

hello!!!!

just here to say to say that ur works give me the best sadness ever like nose sore, tears welling up but in such a tender n nostalgic way that i wanna sit here n read ur pieces forever. i only found u cause i wanted some good ol’ poly stsg fluff n i was saur happy when i saw the sashisu piece as well!!! im currently on the quest to binge everything so im sorry about the spam likes n reblogs but ARGH! THE FEELS!!!! the way u write all the characters so tender n soft n it goes straight to my heart 🫶🫶🫶

in conclusion, heart is warm, tummy has butterflies, eyes r lowkey swollen, n there’s a smile on my face! thank u so much!!!!

(´∀｀)♡

🥺🥺🥺 HIIIIIII ALLY !!!!!!! i was just about to thank you for your tags on the sashisu fic and then i saw this….. you’re suchhhh an angel i’m gonna WEEP

FIRST OF ALLL never apologize for spam liking or rbing !!!! it makes me so happy !!!!!! T_T knowing that anyone would binge my fics is like . genuinely the best feeling ever i appreciate you soso much.. i’m so happy they could warm your heart!! 🥺 sorry about the tears though . sending satoru and suguru to wipe them away asap !!!!! hang in there!!!!!!!!

AND AND !!!!!! if you like poly stsg fics then you’re in luck :33 cause i’m planning to write another one soon!!!! just . self-indulgent …. hurt/comfort……. because i like the idea of the jjk blorbos tending to their burnt out readers……… BUTTT i hope you’ll enjoy that one whenever i post it 🥺 just gonna leave a snippet under the cut in case you’re interested….!!!!!

silently, tenderly, suguru treats the nosebleed. you’re pliant and defeated, too tired to resist, letting him hold your jaw like it’s made out of porcelain, gently dab the cotton ball around your nose. as soon as he’s pulling away, you fall back on the mattress behind you — turning on your side so that you aren’t facing them. 

”fine,” you hiss, so low they barely hear it. ”fine.”

quietly, you cradle a pillow to your chest. hiding away. sensing their heavy gazes, digging softly into your back; the weight of their insistent worry.

the two men share a look.

satoru is the first to act. moving closer, slow and tentative, leaning over the mattress to ruffle your hair. you just barely resist the urge to swat his hand away, still frustrated and ashamed… but he’s being a lot more gentle than usual. so you let his big palm run over the expanse of your head, almost delicately, without complaint. trying not to melt at the feeling.

then he’s walking out of the room. nudging suguru’s shoulder, in passing, shooting him a glance that he interprets perfectly —

take care of them, okay?

……. i just want them to coddle me 😵‍💫

[taketheringtolohac]

ah i debated putting this here or not but. people seemed interested so here it is i guess. this is a link to the pdf of my finished play, which is an adaptation of a game of the ttrpg clear eyes/full hearts that i played with my friends this past january. ive called it the gay football play in the past, and that’s essentially what it is:

set in the mid 80s in middle of nowhere iowa, four football players figure out who they are all while under the scrutiny of the hyper masculine cathedral of football and ever present midwestern protestantism. content warnings are included in the pdf, but just a general blanket for homophobia and heavy christian religious themes.

its pretty long (about 22k) and a pretty heavy piece in a lot of ways, but this is like my baby right now, so if you read it let me know what you thought! even if it was just “this is good” or “this sucked” its all appreciated! i dont think i’ll be progressing this project any further, but i enjoyed writing it and collaborating on it with the friends that i played with. hope you enjoy too!

[ange-deprave]

Uhm, so I rediscovered smut I wrote a few months back. And I like to share... so, below the cut, there's 1.6k words of oralsex.

A lewd, heavenly sound filled the tiled room.

His face was in between the legs of the beautiful angel sitting on his bathroom counter. His tongue flicking over her bud in a steady rhythm, his mouth occasionally leaving to place another red mark on her soft thighs. Two fingers lazily moved in and out of her, playing with the wetness that coated her insides, as his other hand was placed on her lower back, holding her in place.

He must have been at it for at least an hour at this point. And by the way she was twitching with his every move, he knew that what he was doing must be bordering on torturous for the poor girl.

Which she most definitely deserved after the stunt she pulled.

He knew he was being cruel. But the sound of her choked out voice in between airy moans and heavy breaths were fucking intoxicating. He could probably do this for hours, if he wasn’t burning up with his own greedy need. 

The need to bend her over the cold counter, moving himself in a rough pace until all the words that left her sweet mouth was his name. Her hands tied behind her back as he watched her eyes water from overstimulation in the bathroom mirror. Silky hair strands stuck to her pretty, fucked out face.

The want was almost driving him mad, but he couldn’t stop. Not yet. Not until she cracked and begged him for it.

Problem was, she was a stubborn brat that loved to push him to the edge of insanity. And she was good at it too. This time she had barely made a sound for the first fifteen minutes of his carefully thought out choice of torment. But, as always, she slowly unraveled and turned into a moaning mess, much to his satisfaction.

In one way, he really enjoyed this perverted game of chicken they were playing. How could he not when her trembling thighs were squeezing his head, holding him tucked tight in between her legs? It was fucking heaven everytime he saw her turn needy for his touch like this.

The moans filling the room were growing louder by the minute, and he knew by the sound of it, she was reaching her breaking point.

If her hands hadn’t been tied behind her back by the ever so useful blue scarf, his hair would most likely be tugged back by a tight grip. And while he really enjoyed that feeling occasionally, this time she wasn’t going to get even the shortest break unless she begged him.

He knew that she trusted him to stop if she told him to. So unless the words left her mouth, nothing was stopping him from achieving his goal.

He had lost count on how many times she had cum by this point, but he could feel her clenching around his fingers, she was definitely getting close again. And the lewd sounds she made was starting to become like torture form him too. Just one more and he would definitely win this game, earning him his reward. 

He could hear how her voice hitch as he arched his fingers inside her and started moving them at a quicker pace. Wet noises filling his ears as he placed kisses against the swollen bud, occasionally sucking on it, making her moan even louder.

He didn’t care if anyone heard at this point. She could be as loud as she wanted to be if she kept sounding this angelic. Her whole body was squirming, and it was becoming increasingly hard keeping her still. She was practically grinding herself against his face, obviously lost in the pleasure she was feeling. 

And he fucking loved it. Loved making her like this. Loved that she was melting by the rough thrust of his fingers. Loved hearing her trying to hold back, despite his name slipping out of her mouth every now and again. 

He fucking loved all of it.

He couldn’t resist the urge to bite her thigh as he felt her entire body tense, a final lewd noise escaping her lips. Her inside was clenching around his fingers, wet as he slowly pulled them out, making her body ease up. 

He was very satisfied he had made her reach a high once again, but he had always had a competitive streak. And she hadn’t given up yet. So, without giving her the chance to catch her breath, he moved his mouth back to her slit, moving his tongue at the same torturous pace as before. 

He could do this for hours, but fortunately for his own sanity, it seemed like he didn’t have to wait that long. A mix of gasps and curse words left her mouth as she finally swallowed her stubborn pride.

“Fuck- please~” She cried out.

Oh, he fucking loved the sound of that.

He pulled his head back so he could get a better view of her. She was leaning back against the mirror, eyes closed and legs spread in front of him. A pink tint over her face and shallow breaths coming from her parted lips, which she must have bitten down on at some point since they looked bruised.

His eyes traveled down her body. The straps of her top had slipped off her shoulders, leaving her breast dangerously close to exposed. The short skirt she had showed him this morning was hitched over her hips, giving him the perfect view of the tiny, red marks spread over her thighs and stomach. Proof of him being there, of her being his.

Everything about the sight in front of him was beautiful. She was so fucking beautiful.

A smirk spread over his lips as she opened her eyes, and the first thing she did was to give him a glare. She really looked like an angel in his mind, but first and foremost, she was still a fucking brat. And in all honesty, it made the sadistic side of him burn with want.

He kept his eyes locked with hers as he brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them off and letting out a half-fake/half-true moan.

“You taste fucking amazing.” He cooed as he gave her a playful look.

“Pervert.” She quickly snapped back, trying her best to hide the obvious, cute embarrassment that painted her face red.

“Says the girl practically riding my face moments ago.” He teased, enjoying the sight of her blush deepening. 

She rolled her eyes, making him chuckle as he stood up. He moved closer to her, pinning her on the counter, before placing a hand behind her head and pressing his lips against hers. 

It was starting to become increasingly hard for him to hold back, but for the time being, he was doing his best to be gentle a little longer. He moved his fingers through her hair, focusing on the soft feeling against his skin. 

It was kinda surreal, the ever growing need he felt to be with her. Be near her, feel every inch of her body pressed against his. Chasing the addicting high he got every time she melted under his touch.

She gasped as he pulled her to his hips, slowly rolling against her unclothed slit and finally giving the ever growing ache between his legs some sort of relief. He could feel how wet she was through the thin fabric of his boxers, all his other clothes had been quickly discarded more than an hour ago.

He could feel his own arousal growing with every slight movement, kisses becoming more heated and the air in the room sparking with tension. Sweet, short sounds from her mouth were clouding his mind, filling it with a desperate need to hear more. Feel more.

A small bite on his lower lip made him snap out of his spiraling thoughts, breaking the kiss with a deep moan.

“You okay?” He asked, trying to keep his urges at bay a little longer.

“Yeah, I’m good, so good…” She whispered in a sweet tone, giving him that wonderful smile he loved so much.

Her eyes looked glossy, lust filled pupils dilated and giving him a needy look. Parted, reddened lips begging to be kissed, chest moving with every heavy breath. Fucking beautiful in every single way.

Yeah, he was definitely about to lose the battle against his own urges. Control? What was that even? He had no idea anymore.

“Fuck… You really are too cute for your own good sometimes.” He started placing soft kisses on her neck. 

His hands traveled down her waist, then around to her lower back, punching her hips towards him. A lewd noise left her mouth as he supported her weight by placing his hands on her ass, maybe squeezing it a little too hard.

His selfish hunger was starting to take over, kisses growing more rough and his hips movement more determined. It felt like fire spread under his skin, savoring every desperate, needy whimper that escaped her lips.

“I- wait…” She let out with a heavy moan.

“What, You want me to stop?” He answered, blowing a hot puff of air on her neck.

“We’re not done yet?” She asked, making him let out a low chuckle.

He placed her back on the counter, moving his head from her neck so he was facing her. A sadistic smile spread over his lips as he saw the vulnerable look in her eyes. 

God, he loved making her like this.

“Sweetheart, after the shit you pulled? We haven’t even started.” He kissed her forehead. “So, you want me to stop?”

“No…” She whispered, turning her face away to hide the cute look of embarrassment on her face.

He quickly grabbed her chin, turning her face back to his. He placed his thumb on her lower lip, nudging her mouth to open.

So fucking beautiful.

“Good. My turn~” He stated, seeing how she swallowed a breath.

[sga-owns-my-soul]

Loved your meta on Ronon and Sateda 💜💜💜

What are your thoughts on Athos' old city and their level of technology before they went more nomadic? Like Teyla's crazy lighter we never saw again, or the drawings of their old cities. Were they more advanced when that one Wraith started experimenting on them genetically or had their cities already fallen? Has their art and culture changed? Or stayed traditional)?

Anything you can think of would be awesome to read about 💜😍🥰

first of all thank you i'm glad you enjoyed them!! i love any and all excuses to talk about stargate characters so i'm glad y'all enjoy it so much!

okay so i have been rotating this in my brain since last night so sorry for the delayed response but i actually have not put much thought into this before and i love the idea so i've been thinking a lot

first, i think the athosian's were INCREDIBLY technologically advanced. like, insane medical technology, incredibly fast vehicles (you just KNOW they would've had an amazing train system of my god it would've been everything) and i think the average person was INCREDIBLY smart, like i think the athosians had incredibly high iqs compared to the rest of pegasus (this is because despite living most of her life as a nomad, teyla picks up everything rodney teaches her SO FAST like he says it once and she knows and understand it's perfectly you cannot tell me that girl is not a fucking genius there's nothing she can't do)

also i think them being so advanced is why that wraith chose them for experimentation, but i think it was specifically because of their medical technology. i think the athosians had some of, if not the best medical technology in pegasus and the wraith knew this so that one wraith started using their medical knowledge of humans to do the genetic experimentation (bc let's be honest i doubt the wraith cared enough to do research into human genetics but i'm guessing you need to have a base understanding of human genetics to alter human genetics)

i think the experiments are also probably at least partially responsible for the downfall of the athosians. we know the wraith will seek out and destroy any groups that even have a possibility of advancing too far, and if you take the level of technological advancement they were at and combine that with the powers the humans were getting after being experimented on, you're left with what could be a pretty big threat towards the wraith. i can definitely see the wraith realizing what's going on and destroying everything so that no other human (or wraith) could continue with those experiments.

anyways back to the athosians and their culture, i think because of the result of their medical advancements and how it lead to their downfall, i think after the destruction of their city, the athosians kinda swore off science? and i think they would start prioritizing spirituality/religion and focusing on community and relationships with other people and that's why the athosians have such a big network of trade partners

okay this has gotten super long so i'm gonna stop it here but thank you so much for this ask bc this is such an incredible thing to think about and i do not go insane about teyla enough which is frankly criminal of me so thank you for the excuse to think about her non-stop 🙏🏼

[hoshiina]

pairing: hoshina soushirou x gn!reader (no prns)

request: can i pretty please request a drabble where gen has a sibling and that said sibling and hoshina are dating? even better if gen's sibling is an officer/troop leader in the first division and partakes in the rivalry between the third and first division but outside of everyone's view— gen's sibling and hoshina are terribly lovey dovey!

warnings: reader wears short shorts in a scene

wc: 1200

This was not something that started today. Rather, it had been this way for as long as anyone could remember.

From the moment you had joined the 1st Division, you had always been bickering with Hoshina— just like your brother. It was plain as day you were none other than the younger sibling of Narumi Gen. Although you lacked the power and passion for fame that Gen had, you weren't any less competitive than him.

However, unlike your brother, you were better at neutralizing smaller size Kaiju than him— naturally making you more competitive with Hoshina. While you were incredible at what you did, you seemed to fall just a step behind of Hoshina most of the time. You were insanely good, but Hoshina was just a little better. You had beaten him just once in the neutralization test of smaller sized kaiju, and you just couldn't seem to do it again.

This was well known among most of the first and third division, and they did enjoy your playful banter that arose even in the toughest of times. It wasn't always easy to keep the mood bright when things got difficult, but the two of you would never fail to do so. They hoped this would never change and your rivalry would never fade.

However, there were things that had changed that no one really knew of. The two of you had started dating a year ago, and you were madly in love. It was your little secret. Well, your little secret that Gen accidentally found out about.

Neither of you had told Gen about this and quite frankly, the two of you were planning to keep hiding this from him if it were possible. It wasn't new that he despised Hoshina quite a bit, and he was extremely weary of the people you meet, especially men. Naturally, to find out that Hoshina was your boyfriend wouldn't exactly be celebratory news for him. Not to mention that Gen was loud when he had complaints. You knew he absolutely would not shut up about it. So it really wasn't the plan when he had found out.

You were in your room lazing around in a baggy shirt, specifically Hoshina’s shirt, which covered your short-shorts while Hoshina was in your kitchen cooking something quick. Until you got a shared place, this happened rather often. It was either him in your room or yourself in his room. However, a lot of your stuff had found a place in his unit and vice versa, so it was very easy for you to visit each other whenever. A little too easy, perhaps.

“Hoshina, you don't have to make anything fancy,” you said. “Anything’s fine. You had a long day too.”

“I'm literally making us ochazuke. It couldn't be easier—” he was starting to say when the door swung open.

“Guess who's here!” Gen had yelled while walking into your place.

Immediately you looked back at Hoshina in the kitchen and gave up. “Oh gosh,” you said.

“What did I say about ringing the doorbell?!” you yelled back at him.

“And what did I say about locking the door?!” he exclaimed back.

“I thought I did—” you started to yell, but then you remembered you had forgotten to lock the door after Hoshina came in, hands full of groceries to stuff your empty fridge. You were a little too thrilled to see him. “My bad.”

You knew Hoshina was going to scold you later— he's been telling you to be more careful about locking up properly.

Gen saw the extra pair of shoes by your doorway and immediately met eyes with Hoshina in your kitchen.

“Why the hell are you here?!” he yelled.

“Oh, can you please be quiet,” you said. “He's visiting.”

“Why, hello! That would be me!” Hoshina said, greeting Gen properly now that it's come down to this.

“Why is he visiting you, in your room, alone, with you dressed like that?” Gen continued to ask. He wasn't understanding nor did it seem like he wanted to.

You let out a sigh, you didn't mean to, but there was no getting around this one. “What's wrong with having my boyfriend in my room,” you said.

“Your boyfriend? Hoshina?” Gen said, horrified. He didn't think matters could get worse, yet here he was. “Why him?”

“Oh, why not him?” you asked. “He's the best I could ever wish for.”

Hoshina didn’t expect that— especially not to your brother, just like that. His eyes widened as his heart tightened. Oh, how he absolutely adored you. You said it so naturally, as if merely stating a fact. To you, that really was all it was though.

Gen had a lot more to say and complain about while staying far too long, long enough to steal some ochazuke for dinner (which he also managed to complain about) before you were finally able to kick him out. Yet, through all of that, Hoshina couldn't be happier to be with you, bickering away as you ate a 5 minute meal at a small make-shift dining table.

As soon as Gen finally left, you spread your arms out in front of you, asking for a hug, which Hoshina promptly returned.

“He's finally gone…” you said, relieved it was finally just the two of you.

“Not sure he liked me much,” Hoshina said with a smile and you rolled your eyes.

“Like we didn't already know,” you said. “I really didn't plan for him to barge in like that.”

“I have to admit, I do enjoy watching you two bicker though. My brother and I are not nearly as close,” Hoshina said and you rolled your eyes again when he said ‘close’. You wouldn't ever explain your relationship as ‘close’. “However, you ought to make a habit of locking your door. What if that wasn't your brother and I wasn't here.”

“Yes,” you said, quietly but clearly— but avoiding eye contact. “I will.”

“Thank you for saying that earlier,” he said, turning your head to face his. “To this day I don't know what made you choose me.”

You immediately realized what he was talking about.

“Oh, please,” you said. “Be serious. I am the luckiest person alive by your side.”

He kissed you and you kissed back, but he truly wouldn't let you go. You started hitting his arm, hoping he would let go so you could catch your breath. After what felt like the longest moments ever he finally let you pull back, letting you breathe.

“Soushirou, I can't breathe!” you said, trying to sound irritated, but your tone lacked the edge you were hoping for.

He completely ignored you, however, and pulled you back into a tight embrace.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” he said. “Just you and me.”

“In this small place?” you said, laughing a little.

“Absolutely wherever,” he said. “As long as you're here with me.”

[addictvettel]

heyhey random ask but what songs do u associate w ur fav f1 duos (asking this for no reason) (editing.)

Hi Megamind

Thank you for this amazing question uou r SO snart.

Ok for starters i have so many more fave f1 duos but rn these r like the ones I’m really fixated on so for the love of god i can onlt think about them likr literally anyyyu other song thats related to my other fav ships that r not mentioned here just went fackinf poof so yeah.

Brocedes. I’m so hyperfixated on brocedes at the moment I think its getting really bad

The world we once knew (over and over)- Frank Sinatra

Rosemary- Deftones

Cherry wave- Deftones

These r like the basic boring classics uve seen many brocedes edits eith these songs

Moonlight on the river- Mac DeMarco

somehwre from around likeee 4:00 and up cuz thats where it starts progressing getting louder and crazier thats like the part that reaaallyyy reminds me of them

Shades of cool- Lana del ray

from like 4:12-5:10) and its like its the whole vibe of the song BUT also like im imagining a mixxutureee of angst and also like their old happy memories likee in that time i mentioned in the sonf

Omec more to see u- Mitski

No need for explaining. It speaks for itself. (cries)

Why didn’t u stop me- Mitski

From Nicos view pls mercyyyy😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Francis forever- Mitski

“I’ve been trying to lay my head down, but I’m writing this at 3 am” this reminds me so much of Nicos letter to Lewis plsssssssss mercy pls😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Orbitron- Duster

OK CARLANDO!!

Only two songs cuz bricedes brainrot made me stop heing able to think when it comes to other duos

Compass- The neighbourhood

This song speaks to my carlando fan soul when i listen to it. GENUINELY.

Gold dust- Duster

The mood of gold dust is sooo happy carlando with also a bit of angst. I imagine a whole carlando edit when i listen to it.

Sebmark

Again one somg cuz uhm brocedes brainrot☹️

Fallen star- Neighbourhood

Lewis, Seb, Kimi

Snap out of it- Artic Monkeys

Honestly ik its not a duo but pls every time i listen to that song I’m reminded of them

Anythiwng- Adrianne Lenker basically fits all pls😭 lenker cooking up the most peak songs pllssssss have some mercyyyyy😭😭😭🤞🏼🤞🏼💔💔💔

The favt that obsessing over brocedes made my brain shut doen completely when it comes to ANY other f1 duo like pls. Like it was hard even tryint to think of other duos while answering thus pllsssss😭😭😭 brainrot is so real

Honesly i have so many more fave f1 duos but haven’t thought of somgs and styff to them. Its like i have a an idea of what tyoe of songs they woukd have but i dont have any specific songs likedee. I need to get on my game and make playlisys for diff f1 duos. I eill one day tehee.

Ok thanks for readinf my rant baaaaaiiiiiioooo tehee

[yunogf]

your tags to that ig update of doyoung w jaemark 🤣 wattpad looks to you for plotlines istg idk how you come up with those but theyre fun to read

born to be sold to the band forced to be funny on tumblr 😮‍💨😔

[pickled-flowers]

Ooooh might have to put French on Ur dash again so sorry

[nulltune]

❛  ah, well ... would you look at that. ❜ he'd like to pretend this wasn't in his agenda the moment in which he invited to help walk her home, but even nicola cannot hide the knowing smile in which spreads across his features the moment in which his gaze lands upon the plant that has rested upon his mind all evening. the mistletoe stands particularly striking against the warmth of the café behind it, various patrons and workers rather distracted with their own lives to take note of the falzone's second in command cheerfully guiding the woman by his side with the firm grip of his hand to where it lay exposed for all to see. ❛  you know, i was starting to believe there was some sort of shortage. after dante had insisted we didn't buy any and the streets had looked rather sparse of their stock, it was beginning to appear rather dire for the future of any mistletoe related mishaps for the rest of my life ... ❜

it's a fraction of silence before the blonde inches a little closer, a glance spared towards the still busy crowd until it's drawn back towards the surprise of her gaze in turn. it's a unique one, truly, to be spared privy on it and even that in itself causes him to pause for another second, far too amused to simply stop and stare at her expression without a push into worrying too much. truthfully, a part of him would wish for everyone else to not have an opportunity to see it, but he knows better than to wish that, truly more amused at the idea of showing them who caused it in the first place. a juxtaposition to the gentleness in which he wraps an arm around her waist. ❛  so it's pretty fair if i request to indulge in such a thing for a moment, am i right? ❜

when only met with silence, the young second in command leans down to press a kiss to his companions lips, fingers curling ever so gently against her brown locks with an understanding ease, it's clear hes smiling, a little giddy with her lips pressed to his own and it sticks even once he pulls away, a truly pleased expression for a man who might be tempted to push for it again, enamoured with the sensation despite it still being new for them both all the same. / nicollaa <333

unprompted,  always accepting !   @dangaer  ♡

to celebrate the holidays like this was a first for kishinami hakuno.  hardly anything noteworthy to recall from the previous years  /  those bleak and empty years all blurring together,  there was no reason to celebrate the festivities when there was no one to celebrate it with.  such a solitary existence,  not knowing of any familial ties nor having any meaningful bonds with anyone,  she was bound to be alone.

this year was different,  however,  because he is here. 

to make the acquaintance of the underboss of the faizone would be a fearsome thought to most,  and hakuno couldn't say that she was without her own concerns  —  hard to comprehend nicola francesca,  the charismatic man with the perfect  /  crafted smile,  but the time they've spent together was always enjoyable.  today,  too.  walking together,  sightseeing together,  eating together.  such mundane things became something so precious,  and the hours slipped away before she knew it.  a view of the moon overhead tugs the corners of her lips downwards ever - so - slightly,  its presence a reminder that it's getting late,  and that they'd be going their separate ways soon.

so the offer to walk her home was a pleasant surprise,  though not one she could accept so easily.       ❛   you don't have to.   ❜       courteous,  yet perhaps a bit too blunt in its wording.  aware that the routes to their respective destinations diverged at this point,  it would be a hassle to have him go out of his way like that,  and for what ?   though she couldn't deny a ...  curious feeling at the offer,  even moreso when her response was met with insistance on ensuring her safe travel back.  hakuno still didn't think such a thing was necessary,  but if it could give him some peace of mind then ...  she supposed there was no reason to refuse.      ❛   then,  sorry for the trouble.   ❜       she ought to be more apologetic when saying this,  she realized that in the back of her mind,  but truthfully,  she hadn't been exactly keen on turning him down in the first place. 

it was selfish of her,  she realized,  but she wanted cherish this—  his kindness,  and the opportunity to be with him for just a little while longer.

leaving behind the chatter from the café,  click of her heels come to a halt in line with his own footsteps,  followed with a slow blink when realizing that they'd themselves under a certain plant.  having no particular feelings on tradition herself,  she was more curious to see how nicola would react,  though his response ended up taking her aback.  ( it doesn't show on her face,  however,  and hakuno recovers rather swiftly )       ❛   saying it like that makes it sound like you were hoping for something to happen ...   ❜       an observation,  mostly,  but there's the barest teasing lilt to silvery voice as she muses this.  peering at him from the corner of caramel eyes,  they widen slightly at the knowing look on his face.

what a surprise.  the words had been a jest,  and she hadn't expected for it to carry any hint of truth in it.  did he really want to ... ?   the blatant inquiry made it abundantly clear,  but such a thing was still hard to believe.       ❛   e - eh .. ?   ❜       the sound comes out as a small squeak,  barely audible,  but leaving lips parted in a small gape afterwards.  when his gaze turned to the distant crowd to ensure privacy for the two,  she found her eyes unable to leave him,  cheeks warm despite the chilly breeze that swept past them.  stunned at the thumping in her chest as her vision remained on him,  a hand would place itself over the area,  as if to verify the actions of that organ.  her heart really was racing,  and—  ah,  irony.  she knew just what it was a mistletoe implied,  but wouldn't dare to ask,  never one to indulge in her own wants or needs.  if he were to ask,  however,  then it'd be acceptable  —  because hakuno is a giver,  dutifully fulfilling that which was asked of her.

though a request of a kiss is ...  much too personal.  as generous as kishinami hakuno is,  such requests were ones she'd typically reject,  for she is quite the romantic deep down,  holding the belief that such intimate acts should be reserved for someone special.

—so maybe that's why ...  the thoughts trail off at the feel of his hand on her waist,  and she is still without the proper words to say,  but actions would speak volumes where speech failed.  dark lashes fluttering close,  head cranes upwards to accept the kiss.  there's a gleeful skip of her heart when their lips met at last,  a soft hum sounding from the back of her throat.  every touch,  every feeling brought on from this moment is unfamiliar,  but it is far from unpleasant.  the smile on his lips is felt  —  cute  —  and while her inexpressive self can't so easily mimic it,  the sentiment behind it is reciprocated with a subtle shift to deepen the kiss. 

there's another sound as he pulls away,  a small whine.  head canting with a sigh,  brown locks spill over small shoulders,  stray strands obscuring full view of flushed cheeks.  rosy lips remain slightly pursed,  pouting a little,  a faint disappointment over wanting it to last longer.  a feeling that melts away easily at the sight of his pleased face.

... he's much prettier up close,  she notes idly.  having someone,  having him,  in such close proximity was yet another new experience for the maiden who was usually so distant,  viewed as a flower blooming on a high peak  /  someone so out of reach.  it surprises even herself when she finds her arms wrapped around his form,  an action to keep the two of them remaining close like this.

dainty hand tentatively reaches out to carress the side of his face with a delicate touch,  half - lidded eyes peer up at him,  mirth in that gentle gaze.  a moment's indulgence,  is what this may have been,  but it had felt much more intimate than that.  they'd come this far ...  why stop now ?   that smile still hasn't left his face ...  a smile that seemed more genuine than usual,  or was she still in a daze from that kiss ?  ( what a nice sight it is,  though. )  despite giving ample time to,  he doesn't pull nor push her away when her hold tightens.  could she take that as a good sign .. ?

a beat,  and voice comes out as a whisper between what little space lay between them.       ❛   another,  please.   ❜      

[padfootastic]

should just dedicate myself to miss imp’s blog because here’s another- thing i wrote based off her prompt. @impishtubist thank u for always getting the creative juices flowing for me 💀

(this summary sounds like a whole bunch of nothing bc i was having fun being all ~whimsical and shit, but basically: harry becomes lord black, the tapestry repairs itself, and he finds a surprise addition on it)

________________

Magic was a fickle thing. No one knew where it came from nor how it operated. But ignorance is not the same as irreverence—every wixen in the magical world was brought up with the knowledge that Magic was to be both feared and respected. There was a sentience to it that was beyond the scope of mortal comprehension and there were warnings—stories of grave misfortune bestowed upon those who neglected this fact. 

Under the broad gamut of Magic, however, lies one particularly under-studied field of Family Magics. Not much is known about it, except that families who have a long lineage to call upon have some…quirks to their magic that others don’t. Certain types of magics come easier to them, an affinity, if you will. That’s not to say that others can’t have any of their own. The Malfoys might be relatively newblooded—despite their attempts at rebranding—but their propensity for Charms hasn’t gone unnoticed. The Weasleys and their fertility magic has, despite their social status, impressed a community with such low birth rates. 

So, it is fair to say that Family Magics are alive and kicking, distributed by a power unknown to everyone. The Blacks, at the height of their power, were feared by everyone—friend and foe alike. Their prowess with offensive magics was nigh unbeatable and even now, with its current state of disrepute, the old guard talks about the family in tones of awe and trepidation. 

It’s what makes the fates of Sirius and Regulus Black particularly tragic. That these two, heirs who were the envy of every single family, ended up fading into notoriety and obscurity, respectively—leaving behind a family crumbling into ruins. 

The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black…reduced to a house elf and a dilapidated house, both on the verge of falling apart. 

That is, until now. Fate and Fortune colliding to breathe new life into old blood. With some personal discoveries along the way. 

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[byanyan]

the amount I've been hoarding away some of the memes I've seen on the dash over the last week or so is so not okay for someone with as many drafts as me ashfjdh