#so im standing there in the fitting room alone pants half-on trying to figure out how the fuck to unbuckle a belt

[pankomako]

ever since i made that "every friend group got" meme with the gang's bay cast boat has become The Struggler to me. things arent working in his favor im like "oh boy the struggler is struggling he really is the struggler" like it really does just perfectly describe him

[plush-rabbit]

Aphrodisiac Induced Villains

Request: im obsessed with your aphro induced brothers !!! can i request the same scenario with the leave of villains + overhaul and chrono?

Word Count: 1K each

A/N: Sorry for it being so late!! I love aphrodisiac plots and I think I’ll never stop thinking about them. (esp moth shig and spinner during a heat)

-

Every breath is like water that fills his lungs, suffocating and one step closer to some hellish end. They aren’t usually so clumsy, so blindsided by rage. They’re tactical, able to evade heroes for as long as they live and yet- here they are, slumped over some alleyway, dirt sticking to their clothes and the noise of the outside so deafening that they can’t even hear their own blood rush in their ears. It’s horrific, even more so than anything they’ve ever endured in their life; this need to feel so cold and hot at once, their body so off putting that you’d think he’d shed his skin and become a new man simply because they are unable to think of anything coherent at that very moment.

Their hand cups over their face, bumping and squishing their nose and the scent of the damn quirk is still strong, still heavy against their body. It’s sweet like vanilla, and strong like peppermint, sticking to their skin and invading their body. His eyes flutter to a close, thinking of the scent that is consuming them, burning them from the inside. The sweet aroma that filtered out of the hero’s body like perfume. The way that their defenses dropped, how their mouth salivated, and the only thing on their mind was primal, something so animalistic that has now taken over. What type of fucking hero even has an aphrodisiac quirk? What good is it unless you want a bunch of salivating and aroused villains in your custody? The other hand clutches over where their heart should be, where they hold on so tightly to their shirt that they stretch the fabric and ruin it. His heart beats erratically, pounding and bruising their ribs, and this quirk truly is ruining them from the inside and out.

Slowly, their hand falls from their face, bumping into their other hand that falls from their chest and they rest heavy on the ground, weighing him down like anchors. He can’t think straight, not with this burning desire inside of him that makes it so impossible to think. With a groan, he stands from the floor, uncaring of the dirt and mess that has stuck on him, uncaring of how sweat falls and drips from their nose and chin. The only thing on his mind right now is to rid himself of this quirk, to ease the ache between his legs and stomach, to finally think straight. At this very moment, the only thing on his mind is to go to you, to stagger and kiss your lips and have his own desires just flood out of him.

Bubaigawara Jin:

There hasn’t been a time in his life where he hasn’t had to fought for survival. He’s been in desperate situations before. Clawed and fought his way through and for survival, for the sake of not only him, but for his sanity. He’s been through the worst of it all. He’s felt betrayal, felt blood rush and blind him as he stayed strapped to a chair, unable to even realize if he was real or not, and yet, it’s the aphrodisiac that makes Jin fall to his knees just before your door. He’s knocking rapidly against it, banging the end of his fists against your wooden door and your name is a godforsaken cry that tears through his throat. He can’t think of anything else but you at this very moment, to collapse onto you and rest his weary head on your shoulders. The only fear that courses through his body is the fear that you won’t answer the door. Jin is at your door, his erection bulging against his suit and every movement is sweet friction that his heart racing and blood rushing. You open the door to him and he does just as he pictured- he falls into your arms and holds you tight while he kicks the door close and pushes you further into your home.

When you bring him, your hands wrapped tightly around him, it doesn’t take much for the man to confess what happened. All the details told to you without question- the scent of the aphrodisiac, the strong sensation, the way that he feels so pulled apart and grounded all at once. He is a weak man at the very end of it, wanting nothing more than to bring you and him down to your knees, as he;s held in your arms. You pull him to your room, telling him to not worry as you’ll be here for him and he knows that you don’t know the severity of the aphrodisiac. The way that it pains him, how nothing is on his mind but the way that your lips look so cute when in a pout, the way the soft pink muscle flashes out to wet at your lips and he can only nod. The back of his knees hit the bed and your hands are coming up to his neck, peeling off the mask and he’s so drunk on lust, that he doesn’t even realize that the simple graze of your knuckles against his neck is enough for him to fall to his back on the bed.

Depravity is not the thing that ails him. It’s the burning desire to be by your side, to continue to feel your hand knits through his and the gentle way that you call his name. He can’t remember when his name was said with such adoration, and now, it just makes his cock throb and he’s thankful for wearing black or there'd be such an obvious stain on him. The bed creaks under his weight and the scent of you on the sheets is enough to replace the scent of vanilla and peppermint. It’s much sweeter, stronger and much more intoxicating. You reach over and your hand is curved over his forehead, the scar pressing against your palm and when you pull away, he grabs your wrist. He can’t be alone. Not right now. Not when his erection is aching and causing the worst pain that he’s ever felt. Everything is too much at this moment. Coming to you was a mistake, but it was the best mistake that he ever made. You’re the only thing keeping his grounded at this very moment.,

With your wrist in his hand, he pulls himself up, and pulls you closer to him, your knees bumping against the edge of the mattress and he pulls you down. His lips are on yours and it’s messy, spit slipping between the corners of the lips, his hands clawing and tugging off your clothes and he doesn’t have the patience to take off his. His bulge is pressed against your thigh, rocking back and forth. It’s a steady motion at first, something so sweet and slow that it leaves him groaning out your name filled by a lovely curse. Soon, everything becomes filthy. Heavy rocking motions that leaves him panting and drooling over your shoulder as his hands palm over your breasts and tease at your nipples and his face i flushed, a deep red that paints him in a heavenly glow and he’s begging for you to remove his suit, to touch him and kiss him. You cry underneath him, try to latch onto him for another kiss but his eyes are half lidded, his hips thrusting until he’s he’s crying your name and holding you close, his breathy moans echoed into your ear and it’s the sweetest thing when he looks at you, and his first thought is kiss you once more as he shudders above you.

Jin wonders how he must look to you. So desperate enough that you’d listen to him without another command. You’re quick to pull his clothes off, the black suit leaving nothing to the imagination already exposes his muscular body, but without it, he stands proud with a dark blush over him. He’s beside you, and his cock springs free, pre-arousal drooling onto your stomach as he rises above you. Sweat is already on his body, faded scars that curve around him and he’s toned, sharp and rugged while you are soft and everything nice. It makes his heightened arousal feel all that much filthier. He’s a gentleman no matter the situation, his lips on yours as he shares a passionate kiss with you, sucking on your pink tongue as he fingers at your hole and he’s so close to spilling when he hears you squeal and open your legs, stretching your hole to fit more of his thick fingers and he spills over your stomach in hot seed, painting you white. His fingers leave you and he can feel your hole flutter against the tip of his cock and it takes just a single push to bury himself inside of you, your back arching and hands clamping down on his biceps as you call his name. His smile is wide, charismatic and holds all the charm of the world as he ruts against you.

Dabi:

Dabi is burning, his body is hot and it’s absolute torture. His erection is pressed against the inside of his jeans and His body is hot and it’s not in the way that it is, so consuming so heavy, full of dread and he goes to you because in the end, he has you all to himself. The man who tries to hide all his emotions is breaking, ripping apart- figuratively- and he’s racing towards you, running and pleading to make it you and he’s knocking on your door, trying to fight the urge to seem so desperate and pathetic when you don’t answer. He can’t seem desperate, not when you’re so close, not now. He’s lasted for this long, he can last for just a few more seconds. The moon is high above him, and his clothes smell like vanilla and peppermint mixed with cheap alcohol and smoke and it makes his stomach churn and acid laced on his tongue. He knocks once more, his nails scratching at the door and he doesn’t beg, but the plea is so thick in your name, that he might as well be on his knees and ask for forgiveness if it meant you’d welcome him into your arms.

The door opens and half his face is shrouded in shadows and the other is illuminated by the dodgy street lamps in your neighborhood. You welcome him inside and he brushes your touch away and he’s never been so thankful before to wear a jacket. He isn’t sure how he would react to having you touch his bare skin, not when it's painful enough for him to touch himself. Concern is laced thick in your words and he shakes his head, trying to fend off your worry as goes to your bedroom. His straps are staggered, his hand on the wall as he walks to your room, and in the room, the scent of the aphrodisiac shifts into else- something more than the basic churning in his stomach and into him having to sit down and remove his jacket, the heat finally catching up to him. Your shadow stretches into the room and when he looks up, you’re already walking towards him, kneeling before him and grabbing his hands in yours. He isn’t sure how to tell you that he got hit by a quirk that’s making him lose his mind, that’s making him picture you dressed in nothing, and when your hand slips from his to cup gingerly at his jaw, he leans into your touch. It takes nothing more than for you to call his name, a soft whisper that he can barely hear through his beating heart that echoes and pounds in his ears, to confess what it is that's making him act in such a way. It’s embarrassing for him. He doesn’t want your worry, he doesn’t want your gentle touches and the way that you coo his name. He can’t stand how you sit beside him and refuse to leave him. It's making him feverish and you gently nudge his face so he’s looking at you.

Even looking at you proves to be too much. It’s too hard for him- his erection pulsing in his pants, the lack of air in his lungs, and his mind so foggy that the only thing he can do is stare at your lips that move in soundless words. He can’t focus. Not one bit, not with the quirk and you being so prevalent in him when he’s this close to you. There is nothing he can do but to kiss you. His lips meld against yours, his hands twisting into the shirt and staining the fabric with his hands, and he keeps you close, not wanting to pull air for air even if his lungs really are starting to burn. You’re so close to him, so soft and delicate under his touch and he’s lowering himself, bowing before you just to kiss your lips. You’re beside him, the bed dipping under his weight and you’re just here with him, so real and touchable, he can’t help but rush to touch you.

Clothes are removed, limbs entangled and knees bumping into each other. It’s sloppy and rushed, and it’s enough for him to climax and leave his thighs in white and dark purple and peach. His hands hold onto your body, never once leaving your body without his touch. His body burns and there’s a stinging pain in his abdomen, and he isn’t sure if it’s the aphrodisiac or his quirk that’s making him so feverish. Your hand wraps around his cock, massaging at his balls and slipping upwards to the base. Your thumb slides the arousal down, slicking it around his cock until he’s pleading in your ear to touch him. Everything is just too much- there’s too much emotion that is bubbling inside for him to even fathom, the sensations making his head spin, and the taste of you fading from his tongue. He wants you, he wants you in a way that is dependent and obsessive. Ever so needy, he’s kissing you harshly, sucking on your bottom lip and orgasming from a simple handjob. He pulls away from the kiss, his eyes half lidded as he nudges you with his shoulder, falling into his back, his cock still erect and bubbling with semen that drips off of him in shining pearls. He’s naked on your bed, his climax strong and enough for the lights to blind him and he can’t think of anything else when you climb above him.

You run your hands against a trail of staples, and it’s enough to make goosebumps appear over his body as you lower yourself onto him. His entire body is sensitive and sex fills the room and he can taste just how sweet you are, and he’s deep inside of you. He smiles sweetly, and you feel so good on him, so nice and soft, and he’s swiveling his own hips, aching to feel you deeper and deeper. His climax is flush, his body burning and hands reaching for your thighs, holding you close to him. When you lean down, he captures your lips in a kiss, smiling against you. Dabi’s own climax is burning against his skin, his scars tingling under your touch and your lips pressed against his jaw and his eyes are wide, his hands clawing around you and he pushes himself deeper, and even with you on top, he’s doing the work. Deprived of everything sweet and overflowing with bitterness, he can’t help but keep you close to him. Scarred and muscular, his arms wrapped around you and keeping you close to his chest, as he just soaks his cock in you. There is nothing but pain that feels, and yet, he feels all of you, so warm and soft compared to him.

Iguchi Shuichi:

With the aphrodisiac settling inside of him, he rushes towards you, eager and fearful of all the arousal that is bubbling and consuming him. Shuichi is running through the night, his legs sore and muscles begging for rest, but he can’t stop, not until he’s by your side, not until he’s safely nestled in your arms. The burning desire inside of him is making his lungs burn, more so than all the running he did. It’s a chill that enters him and makes every breath sharp, a chill that runs through his body. He stands in front of your door, and he’s catching his breath, hands on his knees as he breathes in and out, his claws digging into his knees and when he stands, he’s already knocking at your door. He’s shakily grabbing and jiggling at the handle as he calls your name in a hushed whisper. There isn’t much that he can say other than he needs you to open the door, quickly, before someone other than you sees him in such a shameful state.

There’s many advantages to having a mutation quirk- especially one that’s a variant of an animal, and that is that most, if not all, your senses are heightened. He can hear your careful steps before he can see your shadow between the door and the floor. He can faintly smell your dinner, the sound of the television in the background and he can smell you, something mixing with the aphrodisiac until it’s just you at the very end of it. You’re the one filling his lung with the shape and painful scent, replacing the vanilla and peppermint, something so thick and wonderful gone in just a simple breath, only to be replaced by you. The effects of the aphrodisiac are still in effect when you open the door and they're heightened even more. You stand in front of him, the light illuminating you in a heavenly glow and with worry creasing your features and he’s the one to take the first step and lean into you.

It’s the gentle look that you give him, his name on the tip of your tongue, and already so weak, he falls into you, letting you hold him as you struggle to close the door and he’s little more than dead weight against you. His hand already having snuck to cup his sex in an attempt to avoid having you feel it, but the pressure is more than enough for him to hiss. You ask what’s wrong and he doesn’t know how to tell you what happened to him, but when you run your hands through his hair, the words are already rushing past his lips. He speaks faster than he can think, the story mixed with events as he rushes through it, while he palms himself through his jeans. He can’t look at you while he does something so humiliating, but he can't pry himself away from you either, his snout pressing against the soft curve of your neck as he presses the heel of his hand further into himself. He’s gasping, and whimpering, acting so painfully shy that he even whispers your name is something perverse. You continue to stroke his hair, and it’s panting, whining and humping against your leg that he can’t take it, that the sensations are just too much at the moment. He needs for you to touch him, to just do something more than pet him.

The points of his teeth nips at your shoulder and he’s struggling to keep his moan muted as his body shakes against yours. He’s apologizing and he’s ashamed of his actions to palm himself in front of you, that he can’t look at you. When you cup his face and have him look at you, he’s apologizing, and telling you that it just felt too good and that he can’t think with you so close to him. You pull him onto the couch, the television shutting down and for a brief second, silence fills the room. You sit on the couch, the cushion soft underneath you and your hands grab at his as you pull him close to you. The aphrodisiac is making his mind muddy and slow, and he can only watch as your hands carefully and tantalizingly slow undoing his zipper and he’s flustered. With tears in his eyes as his own shaky hands grabbing at your wrists but it does nothing to stop you. You undo him, and you're so soft against his cock, freeing it from the confines of his pants. Your warm hand is wrapped around the base, giving it a few slope strokes where the friction makes his leg jerk. His head is thrown back, hands covering his mouth as you wrap your lips around his cockhead. Soon into the rhythm, his hands are on the back of your head, pushing you down to the base of his cock, your spit soaking him and something salty and thick squirting down your throat. The soft feel of the inside of your cheeks press against his side, hollowed cheeks as your hand grip onto his thighs and your little whines and whimpers make him thrust haphazardly into your open mouth. He keeps you there until you pat against his thighs and when you look up at him with tears in your eyes and drool running down your chin, his eyes go dark.

Shuichi goes for you, pinning your back down on the couch as he captures you in a kiss, his tongue thick and slimy inside of you, and he’s pulling your shorts down, rubbing his coarse fingers against your slit, spreading your arousal around the entrance of your hole. He’s animalistic, holding the traits inside of him, dominant and needing to breed, the want to push himself deep inside you overtakes him and he muffles your moan with a kiss as he unsheathes himself in you. Your sex pulses and throbs under him as he frantically ruts himself against you. He’s nipping at every exposed inch of skin, ripping your clothes off and suckling on your sweet breasts, his head buried in your chest and when he rises, your chest is covered in a thin layer of drool. Your hole is soft, gummy walls that wrap around him, twitching when he hits a certain spot and he can’t think, can’t even make out a sentence, and only your name is the most coherent thing that is said as he fills your hole with his seed.

Sako Atsuhiro:

There is nothing worse for Atsuhiro than what is happening now. He holds an image to the public, to his comrades, to you- and that is that he is composed, he’s a showman and when in the public eye, he maintains his appearance. Yet, the quirk, something like a perfume that wrapped around him, has stuck. The aroma was- or rather is- sweet and no matter how far he runs, it just won’t leave him. It’s humiliating. This is one of the worst things that has ever happened to him and he’s seen and participated in his own share of hell. His pants have become too tight, his cock straining and begging for release and even just the idea of pleasuring himself leaves him with a hot face. Without a second thought he rushes to you, his steps quick until he’s running and sweat beads and makes his clothes stick to him. He doesn’t want you to see him in such a disheveled state, but then again, you’re the only one that can see him like this, that can see him as anything less than him. He’s running and breathing roughly and his heart is pounding against him and there is nothing more that he can think of than to go to you, ignoring the stares and fighting his way through his own personal inferno just to be near you.

The lights are on and it gives him all the motivation to rush to your door and knock frantically; he’s begging to be let inside like it’s death that is chasing him. The lock clicks and when you open the door, he’s quick to rush past you, removing his mask and giving a kick to close your door as he captures your lips in his. Everything is so easy with you, and yet, standing just in front of you and kissing your lips proves to take his breath away, it drains him, and he’s drowning all over again. Peppermint leaves his lungs burning, and with your lips on him, it’s replaced by sweet hibiscus, flooding and sprouting from his lungs and he never wants to let you go. He holds you close, his hands on your waist and when he parts from you, you look at him stunned and he can’t help but laugh. It’s soft, a simple chuckle that grows as he buries himself in the curve of your neck as his laughter grows. Your hand rests at the nap of his neck and your fingertips tease at the edge of his balaclava. The simple graze of your skin against his has him press his weight against you. His hands haven’t left your sides and with a tired voice, he tells you what happened- the quirk, the scent, the way that his only thought was to be with you. It’s all so draining to just be in front of you, and with his erection tucked in his pants, he isn’t sure how much longer he can wait until he’s creaming and staining the inside of his clothing, to be so humiliated in front of you as he pleasures himself, but he can’t hold back, not when you’re in front of him and the feel of your tongue is making his length throb in his palm.

Your nails scratch along his neck, trailing over the bumps of his spines and a shock runs down his body, his breath catching in his throat and his hands squeezing down on your sides. Slowly, he lifts his head as his balaclava is lifted and removed, his hair is left ruffled and curls left messy. He leans towards you, trying to capture you in a kiss once more, but when you pull away, he lets out a groan, bowing his head and resting it on your shoulder. He’s begging for you to touch him, to just let him kiss you one more time. It's too much heartache to go without you for a second longer. You coo his name and lift his head, brushing back his hair that is stuck to his face. It’s too much to feel your gentle and cool touch against his burning body and he’s shaking his head, grabbing your hand and pressing it to his chest where his heart beats against your palm. It’s too forward of him. He knows that this isn't him whatsoever. He’s a gentle lover, your needs are put first because even just seeing your blissful expression is enough for him to feel the familiar knot in his stomach. This, however, is just too much, to have you touch him so softly, a ghost over his skin and your lips brushed against his, he’s dying and gasping for breath, reaching towards you as a hand unbuttons his pants and he’s massaging his cock over his briefs.

It doesn’t take much for him to spill in his briefs, to his hand moist and sticky and his body shaking and moans filling your mouth as he continues the motions. He needs the sweet friction that is making everything much too sharp and too powerful for him to just lay there. He’s dying and pulling you close and the way to your bedroom is messy. You’re already on his lips and he won’t lose that feeling again, not until the bed is underneath you and his hands are on either side of your head. The covers are wrinkled and his clothes are discarded as he eagerly touches you, having them disappear into nothing but glass in his palm. You’ll pout and reprimand him for ruining your clothes, but for now, he’ll muffle your annoyance with a kiss as his lust clouds his mind.

Nimble hands tease against your slit, spreading your nectar around and massaging at your entrance, the tips of his fingers slowly spreading you and familiarizing the stretch of your hole.. The feel of your plush walls has him tight, his muscles tense and body feeling as if it were about to curl in on itself. His cock is erect, standing at attention, his tip tinted with red, blushing and bashful as milky white pours from him and drips against your entrance. He enters you with a euphoric moan, so sinful and depraved, that he stills for a moment, his muscles rigid as he tries to not to ejaculate so soon. Atsuhiro has just entered you, he can’t waste this opportunity when your hole is cushioned around his cock. The moans that leave your lips are rich in lust, his own muddled with sobs as if entering you is pure ecstasy. Ever the gentleman, he's always made sure to give you the first orgasm, but he can’t now. He’s already taken away that first pleasure, and as greedy as it is, he can’t stop. His hips move faster than he can think, skin slapping against skin as he moans your name, filling you with his seed and continuing even when you squeeze around him and claim that you’ve already reached your own climax.

Shigaraki Tomura:

It’s terrifying to know how much control one can have on another. Tomura is upset, a frown on his lips and the anger in him is quickly snuffed out, replaced as soon as it came with lust. It wraps around him in a thick smoke, encasing him and filling his lungs until he’s unable to breathe. An aphrodisiac is such a cheap trick, and he hates it. Embarrassment courses throughout him and he’s left doubling over, his hand so close to his erection until something metallic is on his tongue. He’s a man of many depravities, but he’ll be damned if he touches himself in an alleyway simply because of a quirk. He already has you and he’s chasing you, running through the street with you on his mind and his hand outstretched as if he could actually touch you. The friction of the seam of his pants has his breathing more rugged than if he were just running. He knocks, and he tries to avoid raising his voice, but the pressure is building, and he’s already undoing his jeans and reaching past his briefs to release his erect cock.

The door opens and you stand there with a smile to greet him only to recoil in surprise when you see what he’s in the middle of. You make a joke and if it were any other day, maybe he would laugh and reply with something of his own, but he can’t. He pushes past you, kicking off his shoes and removing his clothes, sweat so heavy on his body and his body so hot that the cool air of your air conditioner is leaving him in goosebumps. It’s cruel how you touch him, your hand over his bicep and when he looks at you, his cheeks are pooled red. Every touch is electric, his mind numb and body moving on its own before he can register what he’s doing, he leaves your touch behind him. He goes to your bed, collapsing and removing his clothes on the way, leaving a trail for you to find in your home. You follow him, his name on your lips and hearing you call for him just leaves him laying on your bed, removing his briefs and fisting his hand around his cock. Your hand curves over his forehead and you tell him how he is burning as if doesn't know that. You date a killer, and you’re still so naïve and it’s adorable in a way that makes him want to ruin you. He doesn’t waste time- he tells you what happened and grabs your hand, moving it beside to touch the side of his face and he watches how your lips part ever so slightly, commenting on how red his ears are. He laughs and moves your hand closer to his mouth. You’re real, touching him and there is worry laced into your features and words, and it’s so genuine that he feels a heavy hand wrap around his heart.

Time is ever passing, continuing on and never returning and he’s hot, and begging, his cock erect and balls full with unspent semen. Pain is etched around him in scars and bullet holes, and he’s telling you in a broken whisper how it hurts, how he’s in pain and with how reddened his cock is, you have to believe him. Your fingertips touch against his chapped lips, his tongue peeking out to lick at the tips before he slides your hand down. Your hand curves around his neck and you linger for a moment where his heart is beating eagerly, rapidly as if threatening to pound out and leave him bleeding before you. Lust is clear in his eyes, his mouth parted and you kiss him, and he eagerly returns the gesture, releasing your hand to grab your face and deepen the kiss. Your hand moves on its own- sliding down his chest, brushing against his pebbled nipples and lower against his stomach and falling to his crotch to wrap around his pulsing cock and tug on it, spreading the pearling bud over him until he’s panting with his head resting on your chest and mouth open.

Thick ropes of white coat your hand and your name is sung out in a groan, depraved and everything bad. It isn't enough to just have your hand wrapped around his cock, to be given a handjob, he wants more. He craves it like a sinner to their vice. He’s erect, and his breath fans against your lips. Begging has never been so immoral as it is right now when he pleads to you, begging for you to touch him more, to let him do more than kiss you. It’s you that he cares for you, and even with your kiss and his climax, he wants something more, he needs to feel you underneath him. He pulls you close to him, your body clad in just your underwear and he's grinding above you, his spent cock over your underwear, his mouth latching on a breast and toying the nipple with his tongue. He grinds and it’s harsh, your underwear slick with your and his arousal, a string of semen connecting him to you as he pulls away and hastily removes your remaining clothes.

Your face scrunches in pain and you let out a whimper when he grabs your legs and pushes them to your chest, his cock aligned with your fluttering entrance. He watches as your expression changes from pain to pleasure, your sex tightening around him. Clicking fills the room, your entrance allowing him to slip in his body twitches in response, every nerve and hair on it’s end as he feels your insides wrap around him. It’s animalistic, his hips moving on their own, the rhythm barely there and he’s only interested in his own climax. His mouth is slick with saliva and he’s above you, with your legs bent on your chest and his hips rocking back and forth. The inside of you is gummy, molding around the shape of his cock. It’s as if he’s going to leave your sex in the mold of his cock, never to have you forget who it is that is making your heart beat and sex tighten. Your hands entangle in his hair, threading his hair together as he buries his cock inside of you. He’s chasing his high, mouth open in a moan as a thick trail of drool drips from his mouth and coats over your collarbone. It’s filthy and degrading, but to him, seeing even a small portion of you covered in his spit has him spilling his seed inside of you. Tomura kisses you and it’s wet and messy, but it’s perfect as his lungs are deprived of oxygen and he gets to feel your hands claw at his back.

Chisaki Kai:

Filth clings to him so easily, that painstaking amount of time that he wastes to keep himself pristine is all for naught at the end. All ruined because of a simple quirk. His mask is lost, a casualty of the fight and all that he can breathe in is the air of the sick and depraved, the air of something sweet and intoxicating. Kai hates it all. When the drug is perfected and in the masses, he’s sure of who will get one of the few. The damn reminder of what and who it was that brought him to the floor of some alleyway so rotting that it makes his anger boil, his face hot and whether it’s from frustration or anger, he isn’t quite sure. He covers his mouth and nose, and the poor attempt at a mask is just that- a poor attempt. He can still breathe in everything, still taste the air that is filled with smoke and the dewy weather of the night. It’s horrific. He forces himself to go to you, because at this point, it’s either touch and ruin people and risk getting himself covered in more filth, and go to you and do what the quirk is making him do.

The cheap paint touches his knuckles as he knocks at your door. He doesn’t want you to be late in answering the door, you have to hurry up. Hurry up and get him out of this sickness outside. Hurry up and bring him inside where he can shower and rid himself of these clothes that have been sullied by everything but you. You open the door the second he raises his palm, a frantic and desperate attempt to let himself inside, to fix some cheap wood just as quick. Why he hasn’t moved you in with him yet is unbeknownst to him, but after today, he’ll start to push for it. When you open the door, he walks inside, kicking his shoes and ridding himself of his clothes before you can lock the door behind you. You call his name and his eyes snap towards you, bright golden irises that hold the fury of the sun behind them and he’s breathing heavily. He’s not in the proper state of mind, but damn it all. He tells you, and with every passing second, he becomes angrier. Stalking and following you throughout your home, until you’re backed up against a wall. At this very moment, he has lost his control.

You’re scared and that should be his top priority but he can’t think. He can’t focus on you when his erection is strained between his pants and your breath that smells like mint is against his own. Your eyes flutter to his crotch and when you catch a glimpse of his erection, his name a soft murmur of your lips, he pushes himself into you. His erection presses into your thigh and he can feel the shift of your muscles, the tightening and the jump, the feel of your breath changes into a shaky gasp and exhale and he’s in front of you, silent and face spoiled red. You reach out to touch him, your hand slowly going upward but just as you're there, just as he can feel the warmth of your hand hover against the side of his face, you retreat. He reaches for you immediately and places your hand against his face and he’s out of his mind, too consumed with lust to ever focus on the filth that once touched him, and too focused on you and the way your fingertips flutter against his cheekbones.

It’s an intense moment where you touch him without the feel of the mask or gloves, and he’s so soft. And when you blink, his mouth is on yours. Everything about him is all about control and precision, and yet, with this simple act of kissing, he’s sloppy, too forward and bumping his teeth against yours, trying to nip at your bottom lip only to give up and focus on your neck. Your hands have moved, cupping his face to curving against the back of his head and knotting your fingers into his hair, your own body grinding into him and pressing against his erection. His own hands wander through your body, touching underneath your shirt and cupping just the underside of your breasts to leave and trying to undo his own zipper, aching to release his dripping cock. Exploring your body in such a drunken state is new to him, every movement slowed down and leaving his knees weak and body filled with needles and pins- he can’t get enough. Your hands bump against his and the friction is enough for him to spill onto your shorts, staining it with a pearly white that is thick like cream and drips onto the floor.

His cock is in your hands, slick with his cum and just the right amount of friction to leave him moaning into your mouth. Clothing pools around you and him and his bare skin is touching yours. It’s rushed, knuckles bumping into each other, his cock teasing against your sex, and the sensation is elevated with the aphrodisiac of the quirk and it’s making his mind blurry and jaw wet with saliva. Your body and his are sticky with sweat, sweat pooling in joints and crevices and he’s disgusted but when he pinches around your pert nipple and you let out a sweet moan that has your nails digging into his biceps, he ignores all of it and focuses on you. Kai is high with lust, elevated and drunk and his lips are on yours as he enters your hole. It takes nothing more than a few pumps to get him to spill, to fill your sex with his cream and let it drip onto the floor as he pounds into you, too focused on his release and your quivering sex to focus on how you call his name. His face is flushed, sweat that curves down past his cheeks and drips onto your body as presses you deep against the wall and lets the aphrodisiac take control.

Kurono Hari:

There is no time to waste as he rushes to your home. The heel of his shoes click against the concrete and he must look like a madman as he runs through the night. The night is humid, sweat causing his clothes to stick to his body and the mask is held in his hands, the confinement of it all making him unable to breathe. Hari needs to go to you now. He needs to see you before his legs give out and he collapses onto the ground before him. It’s the damn quirk that is making him act so unlike himself, ruining his image and tainting his composure with such filth that perhaps there is truth behind eradicating quirks just for being wicked. He’s lost, his mind hazy with lust, corrupting the very essence of him, and it’s perverse. He doesn’t know how to take it. He reaches your door and he stands, catching his breath, his heart beating against the confines of his body, and he’s standing there, willing for the door to open, and unable to move his hands. It’s just then, that he notices his cock that throbs in excitement. He takes a deep breath and reaches for the key to your home in his pocket and quietly, he opens the door.

The inside of your home is cool, and it feels as if he’s been transported somewhere else, everything moving in slow motion as he walks through it, wading against the pool that is your home, his hand touching and never leaving the wall as he follows your singing. It’s loud and at certain points you mumble, but it's you. He’s growing closer, and closer until he finds you with your back turned, undoing a blanket and laying it down on the bed. You don't hear him as he walks behind you, and when he wraps his arms around your torso, you yelp and laugh when you realize that it’s just him. He isn’t sure what the aphrodisiac did to his mind to make it feel so out-of-body, but he enjoys how you press against his erection, how the sensation is doubled and when you give him a cheeky smile, he captures your lips in a kiss.

His hands are clawing at your body leaving lines in its wake, removing your shirt and grabbing a hand that cups his face to his erect cock. His lungs are burning, the kiss hasn’t broken since you’ve removed your shirt and he’s currently kneading at your bum, his hands removing your shorts and when you step out of them, he only pulls you closer to you. His fingertips tease at your rim, and you’re already dripping with arousal, staining the tips of his fingers with your sweet essence. You’re the one to pull away first, gasping for air and falling to rest on the bed, and you look up at him, your eyes wide and body naked as you glance down to his erection giving him a kitten-like grin. His hand reaches upwards and wipes at his lips, thick with saliva and full of the taste of you. Slowly, he removes his clothes, not wanting to waste time on such little things and he lets them fall onto your floor. His lungs crave for air, taking in as much oxygen as they can fill, and he’s leaning towards you, his hands on either side of you as you rest on your forearms, your grin now a mixture of nervous and excited as you ask what’s gotten into him. It's true, he's not so obvious in his advancement, not so needy to touch your body, much rather having you beg for him and grind yourself on his thigh, but with the aphrodisiac coursing through his veins, his composure is lost and damned to hell. His smile is sadistic, eyes piercing into yours and his answer is simple, as he whispers it to you, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear- “the cause of an aphrodisiac quirk.” He’s above you, jerking himself off in front of you and within just a few tugs, he’s spilling his seed over your stomach, watching it spurt out of his cock and slowly end in a drool that falls onto your pelvis.

It’s so damning to see him as anything less than who he is and how he presents himself and yet before you is a degenerate who gathers his semen in two fingers and pushes it inside your mouth, letting the taste fall onto your tongue. His grin is wide and he’s above you, pushing you down on your back and he captures you in another kiss. He wants you. He needs you at this very moment, more than he needs air, more than he needs anything. It’s just you that he wants. He ended you to kiss him and to run your hands down his body. He’s a degenerate, but he’s desperate, whining for you and grabbing your hand and letting it curve over his breast. He says nothing, but it’s a big enough clue to let you know to inch his nipple between your index and thumb and pull on the sensitive bud. His whine is echoed in your mouth and his erection is drooling on you once more. A blush creeps from his chest and onto his face, coloring him pink as his lower half is tipped with red and pearls that adorn his shaft. He aligns himself until his erection is pressed against your thigh, warm cream dripping and sliding off of you.

Your pillowy thighs pinch around his cock, and he hides his face in your shoulder, his hands gripping at your biceps as he pleasures himself using your thighs. Soft clicking sounds sound from him using you, his orgasm shaking through his body as he leaves open-mouthed kisses on your neck, grabbing you and pulling you close to him. To lose himself in pleasure is something he’s never allowed himself the pleasure to do. Hari would much rather prefer you with a drunken look of ecstasy on your face, your face in a heavenly blush and your hole leaking with his semen, but now he realizes the pure joy of it all. To mindlessly hump at your body and kiss your mouth and touch your warm body that squirms for him. Your hand curves over his cock and he moans your name, arching his back and hiding his face as you press it to your entrance. He slips inside, and the feel of your gummy insides makes his mind go blank, only the need to release is clear in his mind. He rocks himself inside of you, and the degenerate is gone, only a desperate man who wants to orgasm remains with a blissful flush and your name on his lips.

[poisonedapples]

Patton’s Home For Traumatized Kids - Chapter Five

Bad Memories Don’t Erase

Chapter Summary: Roman tags along with Logan and Virgil to hang out at their friend’s house.

First Chapter Previous Chapter Story Masterlist

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of past abuse, stealing, and one inappropriate joke

Word Count: 4,008

Taglist: @shade-romeo, @grayson-22, @pixelated-pineapple, @acrobaticcatfeline, @astrozei, @edupunkn00b, @princey-7258, @eternalmoonlight19, @remy-the-lemon-berry, @look-ma-im-on-tv, @mariniacipher, @bigwendymonster, @nonbinary-octopus

Notes: This chapter’s a little short, but the next one is gonna be really long, so hopefully that makes up for it

On Sunday the next day, Patton finally took Roman to buy his gym clothes. Roman was trying to hide a goofy smile while sitting in the back seat, desperate to not get his hopes up while also ecstatic his plan was working so far. He was going to have Patton stay in the car while Roman shopped for clothes! This had never worked on his dad before!

By the time Patton finally parked the car in the parking lot of the store, Roman’s chest felt weighted from his anxiety, waiting to see Patton’s final verdict. So long as he didn’t change his mind now, then Roman was in the clear. He hoped to be in the clear.

“Alright, kiddo,” Roman’s heart stopped as Patton pulled out his wallet and gave him some money. “Forty dollars should be more than enough for some pairs of gym pants and shirts. Give me back all the change when you come back, okay?”

“I will! Promise!” Roman wanted to jump for joy. It was working!

“Text me when you’re checking out so you don’t surprise me, and if you see something else you might want, just text me before you buy it so I know. Tell me if you have any issues, okay?”

“Okay!”

Patton smiled. “Go on then, kiddo.”

Roman practically leaped out the door to skip his way to the front entrance of the clothing store, two twenty dollar bills crumbled in his pocket. He got away with it! No parents staring him down while he changed outfits!

Roman walked into the store and tried to hide the skip in his step. With no parents to watch him, he could buy what he actually wanted to wear, no tight pants and scoop neck shirts. No, Roman wanted to look like his real goal. His goal of being a blob of cloth that vaguely resembled a human.

Granted, he’d mostly gotten there. His aunt replaced all of his wardrobe, so his current clothes were a lot more comfortable to wear even if they weren’t very fashionable. Mostly bright colored t-shirts and pants, maybe some shorts if they were able to reach down far enough. Maybe once he was more comfortable with himself he could actually test out more styles, but for now, oversized clothes were all he could handle.

Roman’s walk sped up slightly when his eyes landed on the men’s athletic section. He had to be quick with this, he didn’t want Patton getting impatient and coming in to check on him. Roman looked through the shorts and shirt sizes, easily finding a size up for a couple shirts while heavily struggling on the shorts. Roman groaned. It was always the shorts that caused the issue, they were always too high up. What if he was sitting down and the pant leg rode up too far? No, Roman refused to get something like that willingly.

Roman took all the athletic shorts that could fit him and held them up in front of his legs. Most of them only made it to his lower thigh, but he managed to find two shorts that made it to right below his knee. Roman smiled and bounced on his toes, grabbed his items and rushed to find a dressing room. Once he did, he rushed into the first empty area he saw and locked the door. The mirrors on the walls and gaps in the door made it hard for him to change comfortably, so instead Roman tried to press himself against the very corner of the room when he was changing.

Between the six shirts and two pants Roman found, he was pretty happy with most of his choices. Thankfully, the long shorts looked fine, so Roman hung them up on a hook with a sign over it saying I’m buying this! and considered it a success. However, when it got time to look at the shirts, only three of them were good enough for purchase. The white one he grabbed was practically see-through, and the other two had a scratchy inside material that Roman couldn’t stand, so they got put on the reject hook while the other three passed the test. 

For a rushed shopping visit, Roman was pretty pleased with his choices. Two shorts might not be enough for five days worth of classes, but maybe Roman could keep one pair in his locker until it started to stink. Which might be a little gross, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Roman exited the dressing room and put his rejected shirts on a rack outside, carrying his other items to the checkout area. Before he got in line, he looked at all the price tags and added them up in his head best he could. The shirts were about six dollars each, and the shorts were a little over five after tax. Which means, adding up the extra cents, he’d have to pay twenty nine dollars for the clothes in total. Considering Patton gave him forty dollars, this was plenty.

Roman hesitated for a second. He stuffed his hand into his pocket to feel the money in the palm of his hand while he thought about his options. If he told Patton the truth, Roman would give him eleven dollars and there would be no issues. Patton might let him do this again next time they go shopping, too. But also…Roman had no backup plan. He was stuck with Patton with nowhere to go if things went wrong.

His aunt told him that Roman could always go back to her house if a guardian was abusing him, and he had every intention to take her up on that offer the second the opportunity arose. But even if Roman walked to her house on foot, he had no money for food during that trip. She lived so far away from him now, there was no way to get to safety without a dollar to his name. But if he stole some from Patton, then Roman could have a serious issue on his hands.

Roman slowly walked up to the check out area and handed the teenage worker the clothes. As she scanned all the items with a satisfying beep, Roman felt himself getting antsy. There’s no guarantee Patton will let me do this again. I’ve already gotten away with so much, and the more time I spend around him, the more danger I’m in. But if Patton notices I stole from him, he could be furious. Is there even a right answer here?

“Twenty nine dollars and thirty two cents.” The cashier said cheerfully. Roman handed her the money and she put it in the register, then handed Roman a bunch of coins, two five dollar bills, and a one dollar. She smiled. “Would you like a receipt?”

“Uh, no thank you.”

When the receipt printed, the cashier tore it out and threw it in the trash behind her. “Have a nice day.”

“You too.” Roman squeaked, rushing away from the register to stare at the money. Apparently they ran out of ten dollar bills, because the money was split perfectly for taking without it being obvious. Roman considered this a sign to take his chance. He put a five dollar bill and a quarter in his left pocket and shoved the rest in his right. It wasn’t much, but he could build it up. This was only the beginning.

Roman walked out of the store and tried to act normal instead of anxious. Worst case scenario, he’d say he forgot to bring out the rest and give Patton the other bills. Giving away the quarter also would be too obvious, but he could get away with stealing that at least. When he made it to Patton's car, Roman opened the back seat and tossed his clothes next to him.

“Hey, kiddo!” Patton greeted, “Got any extra cash to give me?”

“Uh, yeah, here.” Roman dug into his right pocket to grab half the money and handed it to him. Patton put the coins in his pocket and put the two bills in his wallet. He didn’t seem to consider how much Roman gave him, instead he started backing out of the driveway and got distracted while reversing. Roman let out a quiet sigh of relief.

He felt the five dollars still stored in his pocket. He got away with it. For now.

***

“We’re home!” Patton announced as he and Roman stepped inside. Logan and Virgil were both lying on the couch, and Logan perked up from his spot.

“Wonderful. We wanted to ask both of you a question.” Logan said.

Patton seemed intrigued. “What question?”

“Can we go to Janus’ house, Pat?” Virgil asked.

“Oh, of course, kiddos! Do you know when you might be back?”

Virgil thought about it. “Probably at six before dinner.”

“Perfect! Just text me if that changes so I don’t worry, okay?”

“We will.” Logan reassured, “And Roman, would you like to come with us?”

Roman tilted his head to the side. “Me? I don’t even know who Janice is.”

Virgil sunk into the couch more. “Friend of ours. Has a snake, talks a lot about philosophy and books. Acts like a tired underaged wine aunt.”

“Right, well, still. Isn’t it a little strange for me to tag along to a stranger's house?” Roman pointed out.

“Janus wouldn’t mind, I’m sure.” Logan said. “Of course, you don’t have to, we simply figured you would like the invitation so you’re not the only one left out.”

Roman’s eyes widened when Logan said that. Wait, shit, if Logan and Virgil are going to this girl’s house, then Roman will be here. Alone. With Patton. Until six in the afternoon.

Roman’s mood change was almost instant. “Well then, perhaps I should go! Make new friends and establish bonds, or whatever!”

Virgil smirked. “Sweet. It’s a short walk, just a block away. Just let us grab our shoes and we can head out.”

“I’ll tell Janus we’ll be bringing a third party.”

Roman let out a breath of relief. As Virgil and Logan grabbed whatever they needed, Roman set his new bag of clothes in his room next to his backpack. He’d have to remember to put some boxers in there before tomorrow morning, too.

Roman felt the five dollars in his pocket again. He took the money and hid it deep in his backpack in a hidden pocket he hoped wasn’t too easy to find. Satisfied with that for now, Roman stepped back outside of his room and waited for the others.

Once everyone was situated, Virgil called out to let Patton know they were leaving the house and then closed the door. Logan and Virgil did most of the talking as they walked while Roman just listened, following behind them and letting the two lead the way.

“Oh, and Roman,” Logan suddenly said during a point of silence, “Another one of our friends may also show up later at Janus’ house. He said he might be coming, so we’ll see.”

Roman shrugged. “Sounds fine to me.”

“Alright.”

No one said anything else after that on the walk. After a while, Virgil and Logan stopped in front of a house and started walking up the driveway to the front door. As Virgil knocked on the door, Roman stood awkwardly off to the side until someone answered.

It wasn’t long before the door swung open, showing a teenage kid with a large birthmark under his left eye. He rested his elbow on the top of the black and yellow cane next to him and smirked. Was he the brother, perhaps?

“I’ve been expecting you.” He said menacingly.

“‘Sup, fucker.” Virgil greeted.

“Hello, Janus.”

Wait, what? Against his better judgment, Roman forced himself to stand in front of Logan to face Janus. “Wait, your name is Janice?” He asked.

Janus put his hand on his face. “Janus. It’s Janus. J-a-n-u-s, not the old lady name Janice.”

Roman felt his face grow hot. “…Oh. Well, uh…”

Janus rolled his eyes and held the door open wider. “Just come inside.”

Virgil was the first to step in, with Logan following after while Roman hesitated. He made an awful first impression, maybe he should just walk around the block for a while instead-

“Come on, my arm is tired.” Janus coaxed. Roman felt too awkward to walk away, so he instead sucked it up and stepped inside the house with everyone else.

The house was quite nice. The walls were painted dark and the carpet was red, but it looked nice in a Victorian era kind of way. On the living room coffee table were piles of fabric and a sewing machine, seemingly making something that looked like a suit. Janus took the cane he was holding and threw it onto the couch. Well, apparently it was just a part of the outfit.

Virgil motioned to all the fabric on the table. “Fuck are you making now, dude?”

“I’m making the refined villain look of my dreams.”

“Nice. When do you think you’ll finish it?”

“Possibly tomorrow. I’ll start on it again after school.”

“Do you make your own clothes?” Roman asked, hoping to distract himself from his previous embarrassment.

Janus smiled slightly. “Less clothes, more costumes. Mostly for myself, but sometimes I make them for the high school’s theater when I’m feeling generous.”

“Oh, that sounds fun!”

“Wanna see Janus’ costume closet?” Virgil asked.

Roman shrugged. “If he wants me to.”

“Oh yeah, just talk about me like I’m not here.” Janus rolled his eyes and motioned for everyone to follow him. He had a downstairs family room with a closet off to the side. Once everyone was downstairs, Janus opened it and let Roman look inside.

“…Woah.” Roman looked at all the costumes, astonished and full of wonder. A lot of them were very extravagant, like they were specifically designed for a dramatic person, so Roman felt a calling toward them. He took a few of them off their hangers to look at; roaring twenties inspired suits and a black dresses with fancy gold finishes. Roman ran his hand on the fabric like they were fancy relics.

“They are quite high-quality.” Logan said, “Costume design is certainly one of Janus’ greatest skills.”

“I can see that.” Roman whispered.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Don’t make his ego bigger than it already is.”

“Oh no, please do continue, I’m designed to be the center of attention.” Janus smirked.

Roman laughed and put the costumes back on the rack. It seemed like him and Janus were pretty similar in personality, just on opposite ends of the spectrum. Both dramatic artists, except one likes to add that with tons of sarcasm. He could see them getting along quite easily.

“Also, Janus,” Virgil said while looking at his phone, “Rat bastard says he’s coming over. He’ll be here in ten.”

“Ugh, fine. I was getting used to the silence.” Janus sighed.

“…Who’s rat bastard?” Roman asked.

“Friend of ours.” Virgil replied, “You’ll meet him in a bit. He’s a rat bastard. Smells vaguely of cheese.”

“…Attractive.”

“You get used to it.” Janus shrugged. He then smirked at Roman like he got an idea. “Would you like to see my snake?”

Roman’s eyes lit up. “Yes!”

Janus led them all upstairs to his bedroom, Roman following last in the line so he could keep Janus’ door cracked open. As he stepped inside, he noticed a very large cage on the wall to his right. It was very long with lots of wood decorations spread across the container, with a fluorescent lightbulb above it. Roman looked around in the enclosure to try and spot the snake.

Before he could find it, Janus opened the top and stuck his hand in the cage. The snake climbed up his hand onto his arm, and as Janus stuck him out for Roman to see, Roman jumped back.

Janus rolled his eyes. “He’s a corn snake, he’s not known for hurting people.”

Roman still looked at it from a distance. The snake was large enough that Janus had to hold him with both hands, as well as being a mesmerizing yellow color. Roman never had a friend with a pet snake before. “…What’s his name?”

“Lawrence.”

“Nerd.” Virgil called out.

Logan smiled. “I think it is a wonderful name. Lawrence Kohlberg developed the theory on moral development, the very basis for ethical behavior.”

“Nerds.”

“You’re very mature, Virgil.”

Roman ignored them. “I think he’s cool. How old is he?”

“About five. I’ve had him for a while now.”

A buzz came from Virgil’s phone, making him check it and read the message. “Rat bastard says he’s outside your door.” He announced.

Janus didn’t seem rushed. “He can get in on his own.”

Roman laughed, and Janus set Lawrence back in his enclosure so he could bask underneath the heat lamp. Roman still watched his movements from inside the cage. “I wish I had a pet.”

“Patton would get you a dog in seconds if you asked.” Logan suggested.

Roman shook his head. “It’s fine, I won’t ask.” He didn’t really know what kind of pet he even wanted, and besides, it’s not like he’d be able to keep it once he leaves Patton’s house. There was no point.

Suddenly, a loud stomping came from the stairs outside Janus’ bedroom. Roman yelped and ran to hide behind Janus in the corner of the room, but the others didn’t react. 

Roman sputtered. “What the-”

Before Roman could finish, a large bang came as someone kicked open the door and let it smack into the wall.

“I’m back by unpopular demand!”

“Hello, Remus.”

Roman completely froze up at the sound of that name. He turned around to look at the person that just busted down Janus’ bedroom door, a kid with messy hair and peach fuzz for a mustache, ripped jeans in the summer with a cast boot on his right foot.

Roman felt himself choke on air as he processed what was in front of him.

“Slugs are goopy like jello! So jello is made of slugs, duh!”

“Remus, that’s gross! No one would make food out of slugs!”

“What’s up, fuckers!” Remus announced. “I’m back from the pits of hell! Also known as the emergency room.”

Roman didn’t say anything, only stared at him in disbelief. Remus’ voice was a lot different now. He’d hit puberty, so the pitch had dropped a lot from what Roman was used to. A tuft of his hair was white, also. Roman couldn’t tell if it was dye or a condition.

That piece of hair and Remus’ mustache were the only things that made them both look apart now.

“What actually happened?” Logan asked. “You never told us specifics.”

“I broke my foot sucking too much-”

“Remus.” Janus warned.

“Fine, fine. I tripped trying to run up some steps and my fall didn’t look badass at all. Don’t tell people that though. If anyone asks, I broke it running from the cops.”

Janus nodded and smirked. “Noted.”

“We brought a third foster brother, also.” Virgil noted. Roman stopped breathing.

“Oh, really? Shit, I fuckin missed everything!” Roman looked in the corner trying to avoid Remus noticing him, but it was never that easy. “Why hello, welcome to our humble- …Oh, fuck.”

Remus tilted his head to make eye contact with Roman, and the surprise on Remus’ face was something Roman would never forget. He seemed genuinely baffled, like nothing in the world would have prepared him for what he saw. Roman wanted to cry.

I wanted to leave behind these people.

“…Roman?” Remus finally said, “Dude, holy fuck, I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“Wait,” Virgil staggered, “You know each other already?”

“He’s my fucking cousin!” Remus exclaimed. “Come on, look at us, we’re only a little related but we look like twins!”

Logan turned to Roman. “Is this true?”

Roman could feel the tears ready to burst. His throat was scratchy, but he tried to talk anyway. “…I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Come on, Princey, don’t be shy!” Remus teased. “We used to be best friends, let everyone believe we were twins until our moms called our shit out. Absolute bastard children- …wait. Wait a fucking second.”

“What is it?” Janus asked.

Remus turned to Virgil and Logan with a shocked and confused face. “…You said he’s your foster brother?”

Logan nodded. “That is correct.”

Remus turned to Roman, seemingly at a loss for words. “…Dude, the fuck? What happened?”

Roman looked at the floor, gripping onto his arm so hard it’d be a miracle if there weren’t marks later. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I mean, I know I haven’t seen you since your mom fucked off to Neverland, but what happened to your dad? He’s still alive and shit isn’t he? The hell happened?”

“I said I don’t want to fucking talk about it!” Roman seethed, grinding his teeth together as he practically growled out that sentence.

Virgil flinched violently. “Roman-”

“Whatever!” Roman pushed Remus off to the side and kicked the door fully open, storming his way down the stairs despite the sounds of people yelling for him to come back. Roman stomped out the front door and took a sprint for it down the block, not caring if he had to be alone with Patton, so long as he wasn’t here.

“I bet you would eat a slug!”

“No I wouldn’t! Liar!”

“Boys, boys!” Roman’s mother laughed, crouching down to meet their eye level from their place sitting in the grass. “No eating slugs. Be nice to the bugs or we’ll go back inside.”

“Yeah, Remus!”

Remus huffed. “I’m not doing anything!”

“Not yet!”

Roman’s mother laughed again. “I’m going to help Uncle André with dinner. But I better not hear a fight, okay?”

“Okay!” Roman promised, watching as his mom went back inside his uncle’s house into the kitchen. Roman and Remus continued to play in the grass by looking at bugs and telling stories to each other, making Roman smile more than he has in a long time. He always loved going to Remus’ house. His dad never came with them, so he and his mom were always happier.

“How come we never go to your house?” Remus eventually asked after a few minutes of playing. Roman stuck his tongue out.

“‘Cause our house is tiny and the backyard isn’t as cool.”

“Still! When you come over, you never bring Uncle Theo!”

“Good!” Roman defended, “Dad’s boring so he doesn't getta come!”

“I like him! He’s fun and nice and always brings chocolate!”

“He’s awful!” Roman covered his mouth after he blurted that out. Remus gave him a look.

“He’s not awful!”

Roman looked over to the glass sliding door. His mom was in there, he could see her, but she couldn’t hear him. Maybe he could get away with it. He could tell Remus a secret and his mom would never find out.

Roman hesitantly took his hands away from his mouth. His tone grew to be a lot softer. “…He is, though.”

Remus tilted his head to the side like a dog. “What makes him awful?”

“…Promise not to tell anyone?”

Remus leaned in closer. “Uh huh!”

“No one at all, ever?”

“Triple quadruple promise!”

Roman looked back at his mom. She wasn’t paying attention to him, seemingly talking to his uncle and pouring juice into cups. Roman hesitated for a moment. “…My dad-”

“Boys! Dinner’s ready!” Roman’s mom called out, making Roman jump almost a foot in the air. Both of them got off of the grass to walk inside, but before they did, Remus turned to Roman again.

“Your dad what?”

“…Nevermind.” He missed his chance. Remus would never find out, and Roman never told anyone for another five years.

Roman ran faster down the street at the memory, fighting back the tears in his eyes. It was fine. Roman was fine.

He never wanted to talk to Remus again.

[clericbyers]

And Mike starts thinking stuff like, "I wonder if Will would tilt my chin up to kiss me," and, "was his jawline always that good?" and, "I wonder what being trapped between him and a wall would be like?" and fuck, he's so gay and so in love

IM SISKCKKKKKDJDKSJBFUCKCKFJ YOU CANT...YOU CANT COME INTO MY HOUSE WITH THISSSSS I WILL DIE!!!!

—————

“Oh,” is the only Mike can say when Will pulls him into a tight hug against his chest. “You’re tall,” is the next thing his brain manages to let his mouth spew out midst the confusion.

Will laughs and, oh, his voice is so deep, what the fuck. “I kinda hit my growth spurt during these past few months.”

“Kinda?” Mike steps back because the height difference is just enough now where he has to look up if he’s that close and it’s so weird, it’s so unusual and crazy that Mike just stands there and blinks repeatedly. “You...you look different.”

“Yeah?” Will runs a hand through his shortened hair and grins. “Mom went all out with giving me a new look once I grew out of practically everything.”

Mike swallows a deep breath and chokes on it. “Nice. It’s nice. You look nice.”

“Thanks.” Will steps from the door and motions for Mike to make his way inside. “How have things been for you back in Hawkins?”

“Uh, good.” he mumbles distractedly, “Lucas and Dustin and Max miss you a lot. They said hi and hopefully next time, it’ll be all of us coming up here instead of just me.”

“Wonderful!” Will cheers, stuffing his hands in his pants’ pockets as he makes his way to Mike’s side. Oh god, he’s stupid tall, Mike’s gonna go weak in the knees. “I’m glad you were able to make it at least.”

“Wouldn’t miss visiting you for the world.”

Will grins and it’s so familiar despite how different he looks and Mike’s heart jumps into his throat. The brunette pats Mike’s back and then leads him toward the kitchen where he pours a couple glasses of orange juice. “I just got back from the store actually; I wanted to get some snacks before you came by.”

“Yeah?” Mike squeaks into his cup as his mind flashes back to the hot guy in the store and he’s really having a hard time accepting that guy was Will. Fuck, he’s so stupidly in love with his friend he doesn’t even need to know it was Will to still be so head over heels. “That’s, uh, that’s funny. I was at the store too picking up some candy.”

“Oh really? Wow, I didn’t even see you there.”

Mike shrugs and stares into his half empty glass. “Different isles I guess.”

“Small world, huh?” Will slouches against the kitchen counter so casually, leaning back on his arm behind him with his legs straightened out before him. Mike stares at Will’s legs and then flushes when Will coughs to get his attention. “Is everything alright with you?”

“I’m good,” Mike laughs hoarsely. Just having a bit of a panic as it sinks in with every passing second how fucking in love with you I am but that’s neither here nor there! “You wanna show me around the house?”

“It’d be my pleasure.”

Mike watches Will as he walks by him and when Mike has to tilt his head up, he belatedly wonders if Will would have to tilt his head up by his chin to kiss him. A deep blush consumes Mike’s cheeks and he pats at his face angrily before following Will down the hallway. The house is quaint, similar enough to the house the Byers’ had in Hawkins in terms of size but definitely much better furnished and painted. Mike likes it, it screams ‘Byers’ to him and he’s just so happy that the new home fits the family and doesn’t feel like a temporary fix.

Will leads Mike through various rooms and he’s chatting about something to do with school but Mike’s not really paying attention. His thoughts are straggling bits of data warped around the sharp curvature of Will’s jawline. Was his jawline always that good? Mike shakes his head and tries to concentrate on Will’s words again, but his voice is so deep, like way more than before, and Mike cannot emotionally handle it every time Will says his name.

“Mike,” Will mentions and it’s only Mike’s lack of concentration on his breathing pattern (ie, not breathing) that stops him from releasing a low groan, “Do you wanna hang in my room for a bit before my mom and Jonathan get back? It’ll be a couple hours anyway. I can show you some of the new gear I’ve got.”

Mike in Will’s room has long since been pushing at Mike’s ‘don’t let him know you like him’ buttons. Mike in this Will’s room is equivalent to slapping the red button labeled ‘eject Mike’s common sense’ until it breaks. Mike, with a giant crush on his best friend, in said best friend’s room alone while dealing with the inability to deny his crush any longer is just asking for a death sentence. So, of course Mike says yes.

He sits himself at Will’s desk as Will heads over to his dresser and starts pulling out various shirts and whatnot. Mike takes a moment to gather his breath, tells his stupid heart to stop being an idiot, and then lets his eyes wander about the room. Will is talking again but this time Mike is actually listening--well, until Will starts pulling off his shirt to slip on a new one he wants to show Mike and Mike nearly falls out his chair from the shock of it all.

“Will!” he cries out, face so red he can feel the heat in his cheeks scalding him.

Will, who is still wriggling his way into the garment, makes a muffled noise. “What? I’m just trying to show you how this shirt fits.”

“I know, but, you can’t just,” Mike motions vaguely, “take off your shirt without a warning at least!”

Will’s head pops out from the collar hole and he runs a hand through his hair to straighten it out. “It’s not a big deal, we’re both boys here.”

Mike wants to scream. “You’re right,” he starts as he glances over at Will, “but still, you don’t see me taking off my shirts and--fucking hell, Will.”

“You like it?” Will turns in a circle and laughs. “It’s kinda popular at school and I really don’t wear this often but,” he pulls at the bottom of the white crop top and shrugs, “it looks good.”

Death sentence canceled; this is more like jail for life where jail is Mike’s never ending mixture of love, attraction, and devotion toward Will Byers. “Mmhmm,” Mike hums at a high pitch, trying his best not to stare. “Yeah. It’s a good cut.”

Will gives Mike two thumbs up and then returns to sifting through his dresser drawers for more clothing. Mike is about to die right here in this chair and never make it back to Hawkins. He’d be fine with that really. Seems like the best option at the moment at least. Will decides he’s had enough with looking through clothes though and plops himself on his bed across from where Mike is seated.

“What do you wanna do while we wait?”

We could discover what it’s like for you to pin me up against a wall if you’d like. Mike shakes his head and inwardly berates himself. “I’m fine chilling here. Just relaxing with you is nice. It was a long ride.”

Will nods. “I can understand that.” He pats beside himself a couple times. “Sit here with me though; that chair isn’t too comfortable after a while.”

“Uh, I’m good here.”

“What? It’s just a bed.”

Mike would laugh if he didn’t know he’d sound like a gurgling baby doing so. “But you’re on it.”

“And?” Will rolls his eyes. “I can scoot over if you need more room.”

“No, Will, I can’t.” Mike rubs his hands over his face. There’s a panic settling in his chest again; he can’t do this. He can’t face loving Will head on like this; it’s all too overwhelming. “I think--I think I need some fresh air.”

Before Will can say another word, Mike bolts from the room and makes his way downstairs toward the backyard. His mind is a mess, he can hear Will calling after him, his heart is thumping in his chest so fast, his hands are sweaty and he feels like either crying or screaming. Or maybe both at the same time. Either way, Mike doesn’t actually get very far down the hall because while Mike has long legs, he’s not athletic and Will has longer legs and was always more athletic than Mike.

So Will catches up to Mike, grabs him by the wrist and turns Mike around until he’s got the shorter boy pressed up against the wall with one arm up above his head. Will hovers over Mike with concern written in his vibrant green eyes. Mike can’t break eye contact and he probably wouldn’t even if he could. There are so many unspoken words in Will’s eyes, something that hasn’t changed despite everything else about him. There’s a comfort Mike can find in that, in looking into Will’s eyes and seeing the same gaze he fell in love with all those years ago looking right back at him unchanged.

Mike looks up into those familiar eyes, ignores the slight twinge in his neck caused from looking up, and smiles warmly. The panic is gone when he’s between Will and the wall, pressed close but still not close enough. There’s nothing but comfort here before Will, nowhere to escape literally and figuratively. He has to face this head on after all.

In a fit of courage, Mike leans up on his toes and whispers lightly against Will’s parted lips, “I’m in love with you.”

Will takes his unoccupied hand to Mike’s chin and tilts his head just enough. Mike’s knees are so fucking weak, he’s going to collapse under Will’s handlings of him. The taller boy rubs his thumb against Mike’s freckled cheek and smiles. “I’m in love with you, too, Mike.”

Will closes the gap between them in a single motion, pressing Mike against the wall with a hunger Mike never thought he’d get to taste. Mike gasps into the kiss and takes everything he can from it, wrapping his arms around Will’s neck as the other boy slides his hands down to Mike’s waist. He doesn’t know how long they stand there pressed up against the wall kissing like if they stop they’ll never get the chance again. All Mike knows is that he now knows that Will does have to tilt Mike’s chin to kiss him, Will’s jawline has always been this good, and wow, being pressed up against a wall by Will Byers is probably the second best thing he’s ever done in his life.

[jawnjendes]

bonus: why is their luck in a deeply sad moment? | shawn mendes

some type of au idk man, shawn x goth ex gf

WARNING: there is talk of death and suicide in this chapter. read at your own risk.

AN: i cant squeeze this into the next big fic nor can i fit it into shawn meets bc everyone hated it so its a bonus in the gg story lmao also im starying the Next Big Fic in a few days :)

masterlist | annalise’s playlist

2026.

"Sometimes I think about the what ifs,"  Ann said, “but I like where I am. I like what I’ve made for myself.”

Shawn had to invite her over to his house a second time, because the first time left him with many questions unanswered. He couldn’t be mad at what she said, though. He was in the same boat; he liked the life he made. You know, without the crushing loss and run in with the supernatural.

“Well, I’m happy for you,” he told her, and he really meant it. “I’m glad we were able to successfully do our own things straight after breaking up.”

“Nothing like filling the void in your heart with work!” Ann replied with a giggle. She moved a strand of hair behind her ear, and that’s when Shawn noticed something.

He took her hand and noticed a tattoo on the side of her middle finger: The Triforce.

“You got inked?” he asked, impressed.

“Oh, that’s nothing,” she replied, grabbing her sleeve to roll it up.

There was a sword on her inner arm. It was varying in shades of blue, and it also had the Triforce on it. Shawn recognized it as the Master Sword from the Legend of Zelda games.

“All this is is proof that I’m a nerd,” Ann said as she rolled her sleeve back down. “I notice you have some more ink also… and that you still wear shirts half buttoned.” She pointed to his chest.

Her finger poked the exposed skin. It shouldn’t have been as tingly as it was. Shawn smiled and placed his hand over his chest.

“More than just that,” he told her. “But I can’t show you all of them.”

Maybe it was a little risky to say that. Shawn would have taken it back if Ann’s cheeks hadn’t gone a shade of pink.

“I could say the same thing…”

Shawn quickly came to learn just how many tattoos Ann had gotten over the years. A snake and tombstones on her other arm. Feather on her collarbone, roses on her shoulder. A quote reading, “...but I’m not anymore” with stars around it on her ribcage. Something on her wrist that Shawn didn’t catch because he was busy pressing his lips to her hips and taking off her pants, where he found another tattoo. “Lucky you.” He certainly felt it.

Everything about their time together was so familiar, so easy and almost home-like. Ann’s skin touching his. Her lips perfectly molding over his. The quiet, needy gasps they both released into the bedroom. It was like going back in time, and they were in Shawn’s Toronto apartment instead of his multimillion dollar condo in LA. It was soft and slow, despite Shawn pinning Ann’s arms above her head. He didn’t outgrow that particular move, and she still seemed to like it.

Shawn had never been happier to have been on a break more than now. Most one night stands in the past began and ended very quickly, because he was on tour or in between interviews or on a break for one day. This was one person that he didn’t want to leave behind. They lied down, sweaty and dazed, facing each other. It was silent, but not awkward. Everything had a nice haze around it.

That was also when Shawn finally made out what the tattoo on Ann’s wrist was. He picked his head up in confusion.

“Is… are those torches?” he asked. “Upside down? Just like mine… and are those my initials?”

It was simple line art, less intricate than his own. Torches in an X, with “SM” right below them. Shawn has been floored many times, and this was no exception.

Ann picked her head up as well. “It’s not what it looks like.”

Shawn looked down at his chest, his torches were exactly the same, sans the initials. He wanted to give Ann the benefit of the doubt, that this wasn’t some creepy fangirl thing. Some of his one night stands ended up like that, and it wasn’t exactly easy to forget.

“It’s for a friend of mine,” Ann explained, sitting up and covering her front with the blanket. She took note of the look on Shawn’s face. “Keeping someone’s light on beyond death, remember? I assume yours is for someone too.”

They were both sitting up now, and Shawn relaxed. However, he only relaxed a little bit because now it was time to get deep.

“Mine’s for Brian. He died last year.”

Ann’s face fell. “No. Brian, your best friend? Brian, the one who constantly took the piss outta me?”

He nodded. “He was… there was an accident. Flight of stairs. Instantly killed.” It was all lies, but no human would understand.

A hand went over his, squeezing. “I’m so sorry. He just, he just fell down some stairs?”

“A lot of stairs. I don’t know I guess he was running or something. There was no way to save him. People in the house heard the crash, but by the time they found him - when I found him - it was too late.” He had told this version many times, enough times to where he could almost believe it himself.

“Fuck, man. That’s… that’s fucking terrible,” Ann said sympathetically. “But I seriously can’t believe you just told me that.”

“Why?”

“Because now I have to tell you that mine is for Stella. Those are her initials.”

Stella Martinez. Now Shawn felt a little stupid… but surprised, and he was met with a sinking feeling in his stomach. He couldn’t believe it for a second, but it fully processed in his head, and his heart began to break.

“Stella from college? Stella, who was your literal opposite and also your best friend?”

Ann solemnly nodded. Then she looked down. “She… she killed herself.”

Shawn was stunned into silence, the tightness in his chest only intensifying. The entire time he knew Stella, she was always so positive and bubbly. She was the opposite of suicidal. That’s why it was such a shock… and so sad. Oh god, who was going to tell Camila?

“When did Brian go to the other side?” Ann asked after a moment.

“A year ago last month,” Shawn replied. “And Stella?”

Ann raised an eyebrow. “Two years ago last month...”

It was a strange coincidence, but still upsetting. Both Shawn and Ann lost their best friends at the same time of the year. The urge to spill everything was thick in the air. Still, neither of them said anything for a while.

Instead, Ann reached down to the floor to pick up her clothes. Shawn’s eyes were stuck on her and that was when he spotted another word on her back. Nightmare. Small font, right shoulder blade, surrounded by a cluster of skulls. Then, he realized what she was doing.

“Are you leaving?”

She looked up, bra in hand. She was quiet as she put it back on.

“No. No, I’m not going anywhere.”

And she crawled back into bed. She made the point to keep a distance from Shawn, who was still naked. He was on his side, looking at the woman before him. Only Ann could have sex with him and bring up the subject of death. That brought a new point to mind.

“How do you enjoy death?” he asked. “I think I’ve asked you this before, but after losing someone and attending their funeral, I’m having a hard time understanding your perspective.”

Ann took a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling. “I don’t enjoy the act of dying. People die every day in horrible ways. People mourn and fall into depression because of death. That’s not something to enjoy.”

“So what’s your deal with it?”

“I’m just embracing the face that it’s inevitable. I do that for myself. I will die eventually, or tomorrow-”

Shawn made a face; he didn’t like that thought.

“It doesn’t make it any easier when someone I know goes,” Ann continued. “You’d think with all the research I’ve done it would be. The ones we love leave this mortal plane, and all they leave is their absence. And that alone is a lot to process.”

“What’s the hardest part?”

“The what if’s.”

Shawn asked because he really wanted to know more about what happened to Stella. He had to know the things that led up to the tragedy, mostly because he knew Camila would ask for details, even if they were hard to hear.

He figured he should spill his side first.

“The last thing I said to Brian was to get the hell out of my room,” he began. “We were fighting, fighting over something so fucking stupid, and I was so pissed at him. That was our last interaction. He fell down the stairs because he was trying to find me in this big huge mansion…”

Ann sat up a little bit, hand over her chest. “Here?”

“Oh no, not here. I was staying at a friend’s house in London for a work thing. Place was huge, easy to get lost in,” Shawn clarified. “Brian, Andrew, all of them were leaving back to Toronto and I didn’t want to go just yet. Part of it was because I was still pissed. Maybe if I had run into him first before he fell… If I hadn’t kicked him out of my room a few nights prior… If I was less of an asshole…”

“Maybe you would have slipped on the stairs,” Ann told him. “Maybe you guys would have had an even bigger argument later that would have ended your friendship. There’s no way to tell, and sometimes that’s what sucks the most.”

Huh. Most people tell him not to dwell on it. No wonder Ann was a shrink now.

“Losing someone is one of the hardest things we, as humans, have to face,” she said. “It’s not easy in the slightest. Besides, the grieving period takes about three to five years, so you - we - are still in the beginning stages of it. Thinking about the what ifs, what you want to change, what you wish you could say to Brian - all of that is normal.”

The two of them let those words settle for a moment. Shawn’s eyes were a little misty, and redirecting the topic was probably not going to help. But he laid his stuff out on the table.

“What about you?” he asked.

“Me?”

“Your what ifs?”

Ann paused, looking around the room. “What if I had put my Master’s to use and noticed the goddamn signs?”

Shawn watched her, hoping she would at least return the eye contact.

“I’m an expert in this shit,” she said. “I have the years of school, the degrees, and the licenses for detecting things like this. I only figured it out the moment her dad called me.”

“How do you detect when someone is suicidal?”

“In her case, she was elated. When someone makes that decision, they reach a state of euphoria because they know their pain is about to end.”

“But Stella was always-”

“Believe me, I know. I hadn’t talked to her since graduating in Toronto, so I thought she hadn’t changed at all. But I would see on her social media, she just moved back to her parents’ house in Florida, and she hinted that she wasn’t happy about it.”

As if Shawn couldn’t take another blow. Come to think of it, he never heard much about Stella’s home life. He didn’t even think that it could be a negative place for her.

“I was in Jacksonville for work,” Ann continued, “so I hit her up, and we met up for lunch. We talked for about an hour, and she said that I was always a good friend and college wife and that she’ll always love me. And my stone hearted ass just said ‘cool, you don’t suck’ and that was that. A month later, she’s as blue as the pills she took.”

“Ooo…” Shawn sighed, cringing at that mental image. Sweet, warm hearted Stella cold and lifeless. Call it morbid, awful thinking, but Shawn wished Brian looked like that in death instead of the bloody mess he turned out to be.

“Yeah. And her parents had her embalmed and put in an airtight casket, but that’s a whole other rant.” Ann waved it off and lied back down.

Shawn didn’t know what else to do except lie down as well. While sharing the stories of how their friends died, he couldn’t help but feel just a little bit closer to Ann. The first time they met, it took fighting tooth and nail to get her to open up. Now, Shawn felt okay silently reached for her hand, and tenderly holding it in his.

Both of them winded up at the same awards show. Both lost their best friends. Both got the same type of tattoo to honor them. Neither of them anticipated meeting again. This couldn’t be a coincidence.

_______

goth gf taglist: @normalcyisoverrated-beyou @ilsolee @mendesromano @kitykatnumber @strangerliaa @iloveshawnieboi @someoneunimportantxx @goldenmndes @calyumthomas @shawnsunflower @shawnvvmendes @parkeraul @havethetimeeofyourlifee @chillingbythesea @wronglanemendes @softmendesss @peruvian-bae @theprivatewritings

[gray-anxiety]

No Sympathy → Levi Ackerman Chapter 7 → Information

Read the rest of the chapters here!

Apologies for the late update 

Also, for some reason this didn’t want to be uploaded indented, so oh well I suppose. 

       Even from blocks away, music could be heard throughout the alleys from the biggest party hosted in Maria to date. The sun had set hours ago, leaving only the young night and bright moon to guide Levi and Aella through the dark alleys. Aella had shoved her hands in her hoodie pockets and matched Levi’s fast pace with ease, though Levi still had his hand gripping Aella’s almost covered wrist from her pocket (she was wearing a sleeveless hoodie; Levi couldn’t exactly tug her arm with the same effect as her wrist or sleeve) so he didn’t lose her in the almost pitch black paths leading them directly towards the massive party house. Levi was on high alert — bringing every single one of his knives and forcing Aella to bring hers as well; they were going for answers and had no intent to party (against Aella’s wishes). Levi had his scarf covering his face and even had his own hoodie up — Aella didn’t need her hoodie up when she was wearing a beanie that was already close to covering half of her forehead; Levi turned every once in a while, simply just following the directions Google Maps told him to take. Levi’s phone gave out a dim light (he had his brightness all the way down) barely lighting up his own face; Aella looked around at the grimy poorly managed alleys — noting how almost every apartment that had any person old enough to sneak out was practically black and empty. Most of this district held the kids that were abandoned by their parents who went to live in the other cities — leaving barely any apartment filled with a person older than 25 left. Aella could still hear the bustling of cars even from deep in the back alleys; most people were going to party all throughout the weekend and leaving a golden opportunity for every gangster and robber alike to earn a quick buck with barely even trying thanks to the shitty police force. Levi eventually turned out of the alleys to the main sidewalk by endless road and continued walking with his focus all on his phone. Aella was pulled out of her fleeting thoughts when she bumped into Levi when he stopped suddenly — the music had gotten indescribably loud and the house in front of them had moving colored lights shine through the windows. The house itself looked more like an apartment complex than house, but Aella didn’t let looks fool her — Sasha was from the city of Rose itself and came from a fairly wealthy family considering the fact that they didn’t live in Maria; this was most definitely a house, albeit, a sure as hell expensive one.

       “We’re here. Stay close and do not drink or smoke anything.” Levi grumbled as he finally let go of Aella’s wrist and walked in the door without knocking — knowing no dumbass would be able to hear with how loud the music was thanks to the windows being open due to the amount of smoke coming out of the house. Aella walked in after Levi and looked around; practically everyone held a blunt of some sort in one hand and a beer in the other — while some groups stuck to the walls and corners, a massive crowd gathered around the large makeshift dance floor in the middle of what Aella assumed was a massive living room that easily held a few hundred people in there alone. Aella recalled seeing mini crowds outside from there being almost no room to fit any more people inside — the only word she could even come close to describing the house was massive, and even that was an understatement. How Sasha could afford a damned mansion with the food bill she has to pay for herself was beyond Aella, but this was Maria and every living space was cheap for any person from the other two cities. Levi tapped Aella’s shoulder and jerked his head in the way of what looked like businessmen holding signature red solo cups — they must’ve been the men Levi had been looking for. Levi pushed through the crowds of people — bumping most to move with his broad shoulders — and kept his head down with his hood up the entire time. Levi casually stood at the edge of the wall leading to the next room where the men resided: Levi could hear their conversation easily and look like he’s just leaning against the wall while onlooking the party. Aella stood nearby, though not too close to avoid suspicion and was Levi’s vanguard for distracting any horny teens away from flirting with the occupied thug. Levi directed all of his attention towards the conversation at hand — trying to find any answers whatsoever.

   “Heard Levi’s gone into hiding.” A grumbly voice chuckled.

   “Aye, the pussy has. Did you hear how much money the damned lucky bastard made for selling out the runt?” Another, more nasally voice responded smoking a blunt.

   “Upwards to almost a million some say — that true?”

   “1,500,000. The man told me hisself, aye. Bloody bastard really outdid everyone this time — and now he gets a nice cozy spot playing defense minister o’ the capital.”

   “Enviable. Has Levi been spotted here yet?”

   “Naw. The runt ain’t ‘ere from what I’ve been told. I’ve heard he went to either here or Rosie for a while, but that’s just a wee rumor. The official coverup is he’s outta the country for some time, but we haven’t seen ‘im yet.”

   “So, we held this party for a chance of seeing someone we’re not even sure is here?”

   “Aye.”

   “Bloody great.” Levi clicked his tongue and let out a string of curses silently — they knew he was somewhere on a guess. Nevertheless, his identity wasn’t figured out, no, it was leaked from someone that knew and was simply paid to snitch. Levi walked at an abnormally fast pace and grabbed Aella’s wrist — making a beeline for the door.

“Levi, where are we going?” Aella knew something must’ve gone terribly wrong if they were leaving so early.

“Home. Someone sold me out — they held this party to trap me, too. Unless you want to be jailed and killed by being busted with me, I recommend we get the absolute fuck out of here.” Levi once more brushed shoulders with every person standing as he tried to shuffle his way out of the ring around the dance floor and general crowd, but it was too late. Like it was in slow motion for Levi and Aella, some stumbling drunk dumbass tripped over Levi as they stumbled backward and tugged off Levi’s hood while trying to grab anything to help him not fall. Levi’s hood fell back — revealing Levi’s alarmed eyes as he recognized that three people around them alone were a part of numerous mafias. Mafia spies immediately recognized him from the photos given to them and advanced subtly to trap Levi with no way out available. Levi looked around the trapped duo and cursed — the only way out of this deathtrap was the back door. Levi grabbed Aella’s wrist tighter and speed-walked out of the tight crowd in a gap not filled in with a mafia spy, throwing caution to the wind as far as laying low went.

“Oi! There he is!” Shite. Now went every plan of losing a small, manageable, crowd. Every mafia member in hearing range turned their heads and spotted Levi too — they just had to make it out alive. Levi ran to the door and flung it open — shoving Aella outside followed by slamming the door shut. They weren’t going to lose them for long and Levi couldn’t possibly take them all on with the chance of Aella getting hurt — Levi’s hands were tied; he had to make a decision on whether to run or to risk the chance of injury.

“Hey, shorty, where you running off to? Did she promise to smash or what?” Levi turned his head back to the door to only greet three figures — two tall as shit males and one fairly tall female — all of which were smoking a blunt. Levi grunted and turned back to speed off, but Aella was stuck frozen in her tracks — her eyes wide and mouth open.

“Let’s go, Aella. They’re going to catch up any fucking minute.” The female’s head perked up at the mention of Aella’s name and stepped towards the still frozen Aella — Levi tugged Aella’s arm harder in a hurry. They were so caught if she didn’t fucking move right now.

“…Aella? Is that… really you?” Even though it was pitch black at the back of the house, the outline of the female shown — glasses that looked like goggles laid atop of her head, her hair was combed up into a messy ponytail, and she wore a leather jacket with chains connected to her pants. Aella sucked in a breath and felt a tear prick her left eye. Levi scoffed and kept looking around for any sign of mobsters — one sign of activity and Levi was cutting off this ‘special’ moment without giving a single damn.

“…Hanji?” The person in question smiled and nodded at her companions that Aella and Levi were, in fact, allies before pulling Aella into a bone-crushing embrace. Aella squeaked and laughed — hugging ‘Hanji’ back with glee

“I thought you were dead! I never saw you at school or at parties and you obviously weren’t answering your phone, so I went over to your place to hear that you had been kicked out! What happened, Aella?” Aella rubbed the back of her neck and started to speak, but was interrupted by every mobster in attendance bursting through the door and windows. Levi grabbed Aella and started running against a now screaming Aella to turn back to get Hanji. Hanji nodded back at Levi and sprung into attacking with her comrades to give the wanted duo time.

“Levi! What about Hanji?! She’ll be taken hostage back there!” Levi snarled and ran even faster.

“It doesn’t fucking matter to me one bit if that greasy hag makes it or not. We need to lose them and hide — fast. I will not risk us being discovered back at the apartment!” Aella looked betrayed but kept running with her numb legs. Aella spotted a tiny alleyway that didn’t even look like one thanks to being so small — perfect when you have people speeding towards you to kidnap you.

“Levi! To the left! You see that?” Aella called out, tugging Levi’s hand. Levi nodded and took a sharp turn towards the tiny back alley. Levi yanked Aella’s arm forward and shoved her in first before running in himself. Levi pulled up his hoodie and panted slightly while Aella was full blown gasping for air. Levi soon heard fast footsteps approaching and grabbed Aella in his arms — covering her mouth while semi-shielding her with his body.

“Don’t make a sound,” Levi whispered and held his breath. The footsteps echoed in the alleys and got louder and louder every single time, inching closer and closer until they stopped right at the corner before the turn to enter the back alley. There was no sound whatsoever for a few seconds — the silence was deafening for Levi — Aella could only hear her booming heartbeat that felt like it was going to burst right out of her chest. Aella’s hand silently grabbed onto one of Levi’s arms, which so happened to be encircling her waist, and squeezed it out of anxiety. Levi moved his arm and held Aella’s shaky hand with the hand that wasn’t covering her mouth. Levi’s body angled ever so slightly more to cover Aella — hoping that his black attire would blend in well enough with the shadows of the alley and the blackness of the night. Suddenly, a tall figure came from around the corner and stood — sniffing the air; Aella almost let out a surprised scream and Levi’s body almost moved on queue to attack until he heard a laugh.

“Mike! I told you to find them not fucking scare them!” Hanji. Aella shoved Levi out of the way and bolted to Hanji.

“What were you fucking thinking you jackass! You could’ve fucking died out there and for what? To save us?” Hanji cackled at Aella’s endless scolding and doubled over.

“Christ, You haven’t changed one bit, haven’t ya? I was perfectly fine thanks to Erwin and Mike over there. They might’ve had numbers and more weapons, but no one beats Mike’s nose and Erwin’s strategies!” Hanji threw an arm over Aella’s shoulder. Levi glared at the two men towering over him and gripped his knife harder — Aella might’ve been friends with one of these people, but Levi sure as hell wasn’t. Hanji sighed, removed her arm, and walked over to Levi.

“Yo, shorty. We’re all comrades here, alright? We aren’t going to sell you out or shit. Every guy back there is dead, by the way.” Levi nodded and slowly sheathed his knife.

“Anyway, the guy with the eyebrow piercing and tattoos is Erwin, and the one with the ’stache and brass knuckles is Mike.” Hanji introduced the men, who each nodded their head in hello while still standing. Aella sighed and walked up to Levi.

“He’ll never introduce himself, but he’s Levi — my roommate.” Levi was too busy having a stare down with each man to bother to acknowledge Aella’s attempt at introducing him to them. Aella grabbed Levi’s arm and pulled him out of the back alley.

“Levi, we should get back before anything else happens. You guys should come too in case they try and find you.” Hanji and Erwin nodded in agreement and Mike simply followed. Levi, on the other hand, was repulsed at the idea of bringing three unknown people back to the apartment and made it obvious by glaring at Aella — who returned the glare just as furiously as Levi.

“If they make a damn mess, they’ll be fucking slaughtered.” Aella rolled her eyes and took it as Levi’s way of saying ‘this isn’t okay with me, but I have to make it up to you some way.’ The duo made their way back to their apartment, only now with three allies in tow.

[j-esbian]

Second First Date

happy holidays to @osobhi​~ it seems like we had each other for the @mlsecretsanta​ exchange! I hope you like this! it’s post-reveal alyabug :3

on ao3

Words: 2.4k

Her parents were hosting a party to celebrate New Year’s Eve, and Alya was bored out of her mind. She was the youngest there; none of her parents’ friends had brought their kids, and Ella and Etta were down for a nap before midnight. Her parents had felt the need to start it six hours before midnight, so everyone could have dinner together, and the party was dragging on forever.

It probably would have been a little more bearable if she could leave and hang out with people she actually knew, but she had nowhere to go. After a while, she resorted to sitting in the corner of the couch, eavesdropping on nearby conversations and texting her friends.

From: Mari <3

How’s the party going??

Babe I’m so boredd are u sure u can’t come over

I wish :(( my parents won’t let me though

FuCk that

Wait bu t

I’m sure my parents wouldn’t mind if ladybug crashed the party

HmmMmMmmMMmmm

Lmao

No but they’re dragging me to church

At midnight

Gross????

Why cant u just go in the Morning

B/c apparently?? We’re still open tomorrow??

Double Gross

Its ok I will send u a cyber smooch at midnight

Aww <3

Me too

Ugh gtg

Love you Alya

Ily2 mari

I’ll see if I can come by tomorrow

Gotta get me some sugar u know

Oh my goD

Uhh I mean ur dads pain au chocolat

Like ur cute but

Not everything is about u smh

YEAH OK SURE

;)

“Ooh, are you texting a boy ?” someone near Alya giggled tipsily. She looked up, the smile rapidly evaporating off her face.

“My girlfriend, actually,” she said tersely.

“Oh.” He didn’t seem to know what to say, and went to take a gulp of wine instead. He looked down at the empty glass in his hand, then back at Alya, eyebrows raised. He tipped it towards her with a shamefaced smile and sauntered away in search of a refill.

Alya rolled her eyes. She got up and went into the kitchen, where her mother was preparing a round of hors d'oeuvres.

“Oh, Alya. Can you get me the horseradish out of the fridge?” Marlena asked.

“Yeah.” She grabbed the little glass jar from the refrigerator and, while she was in there, nicked a bottle of the twins’ apple juice. She handed the condiment to her mother and surveyed the plates that were already prepared. “Are any of these ready to go out?”

Marlena looked up. “Hmm. Yeah, the vol-au-vents,” she said, pointing. Alya picked them up and headed back out of the kitchen. “Thank you!” her mother called after her.

Alya, however, didn’t return to the party, but took a detour to her room. She closed the door behind her, resisting the urge to lock it, and shucked off her sweater and shoes. She set an alarm on her cell phone--5 minutes to midnight ought to be enough of a head’s up to rejoin the party in time for champagne.

Then she slouched over to her desk and kicked back in front of her laptop. She could still hear the wine-laced chatter and laughter of the party, and slipped on her headphones. Soon, she was engrossed in her computer, and behind her back the hours melted together. She was only pulled out of it, eventually, by two nearly simultaneous events.

The first was that she suddenly realized she was out of food, and when she looked up to confirm that her empty fingers were indeed only chasing crumbs around the plate, she caught a glimpse of her phone screen lighting up in her peripheral vision.

Alya sighed, and scooted in her chair to grab her phone from the pile of blankets it had nested in. To her surprise, it was now a little over half an hour until midnight.

From: Nono

Hey Alya

Wyd

Playing stardew valley wbu

Chillin

U decent?

Like morally or

Pants

Uh why lol

I mean yea but

U got sth planned?

W h a t

No

Thing

What are you hiding

Nano my man

Ur terrible with secrets

Just come hang out

Ivan’s here

And Alix

Kim’s maybe on his way

Where are u

We’ll come pick you up

Damn thanks

Maybe the real squad goals was the friends we made along the way

Be there in 10

Alya found her shoes and touched up her makeup, humming to herself. She gathered up the remains of her snack and headed to the kitchen. Her mom wasn’t in there anymore, and as she placed her plate in the sink, she heard her parents’ voices in the din of the party.

Her cell phone buzzed with a new text.

From: Alix K.

We’re here!!!

Come otu

im gay

Bitch me too

Come outsid e

Alya ran for her coat, shouting at her parents as she passed through the hallway. “I’m going to hang out with Nino!”

No response. She paused with her hand on the front doorknob and yelled again. “I’m gonna go out with some friends!”

Her mom poked her head around the corner. “Be quiet,” she said in a stage whisper. “The girls are still asleep.”

“Sorry,” Alya muttered. She lifted her hand from the knob and pointed at the door. “I’m going out, though.”

Marlena squinted at her watch in the dim light. “Be back by one,” was all she said. She headed back to the party, and called over her shoulder, “Have fun, sweetie!”

Alya raced down the stairs, and the moment she set foot outside, she was hit by a snowball. She coughed and swiped at her face, trying to see who threw it through the splotches on her glasses.

She heard Alix and Nino laughing, and Ivan said, “Ooh, nice shot.” She finally cleared off her lenses, and saw Ladybug, standing with her friends, and brushing her hands against her legs to hide the evidence of her crime.

“M--Uh, what are you doing here, Ladybug?” Alya asked incredulously.

Ladybug spread her arms wide. “Celebrating!”

Though Alya was bewildered, she couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face. “Don’t you have, like, other things to do tonight?”

“Honestly? No,” Ladybug said, shrugging. “I can’t think of anyplace else I’d rather be right now.”

“Hell yeah,” Nino agreed. “Marinette said you were bored at your house, so we got a crew together. Sucks that she couldn’t come, though.”

“Oh, well,” Ladybug smirked. “Guess she’s missing out.”

Alya stifled a laugh, and changed the subject before it burst out. “I thought you said Kim was coming?”

“Nah,” Alix said. “Turns out he and Max are at a LAN party, so, you know, they might never leave.”

“That’s fair, though.” Ivan scratched his nose. “Did, uh, they say where they were?” Alix glared at him. “What?”

“Never mind them!” Alya said cheerfully, linking one arm with him and the other with Ladybug. She turned to Nino. “Where are we off to?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t think that far ahead, honestly.”

They wandered to the end of Alya’s street, looking around. There were people everywhere, and the air around them was full of the sounds of Reveillon in full swing.

“Isn’t your friend’s dad putting on his show at the Eiffel Tower?” Ladybug asked.

Ivan shook his head. “Nah, Mylène’s in Canada visiting family. It’s her dad’s understudy.”

“Still, it could be fun,” Nino said. “Anybody got other ideas?”

They didn’t, so they set off.

Ivan fell back, separating from Alya and falling into step with Alix, and Alya leaned in to Ladybug. “I thought you said you were busy,” she whispered.

Ladybug smirked knowingly. “Come on, Alya, we’re never open on New Year’s.”

“But, then…?”

“I thought we could do something different.” Ladybug leaned into Alya, pressing against her side for a brief second before pulling away again, a coy look slipping onto her face. “You know, something exciting.”

“That sounds just fine to me,” Alya replied.

“Can I just say?” Nino interrupted. “You guys are the worst.”

The others turned around and realized that they had fallen into two lines and Nino, being the odd man out, was left to trail along behind them, alone.

“Aw, c’mere,” Alya said. Nino came up to join her and Ladybug, and she slung her free arm around his shoulder. “There. I got my two favorite people with me.”

“I’m surprised I made the list before Marinette,” Nino commented wryly.

“Your favorite, out of the people here?” Ladybug suggested.

“Okay,” Alix interjected. “That just seems needlessly rude. I mean, we’re right here.”

“Well, shit, man, she’s only got two arms,” Ivan retorted.

“I’m just saying,” Alix grumbled.

“And the sidewalk’s hardly wide enough for five people,” Alya added. “I mean, there’s barely enough space for three of us.”

“I could always carry you if it gets too crowded,” Ladybug suggested.

Alya winked. “Maybe some other time.”

The streets got more congested as they went on, and soon they were forced to walk single-file. Alya led the line, holding tightly onto Ladybug’s hand behind her so they wouldn’t be separated. Alix brought up the rear, but she was tired of trailing behind and jumped onto Ivan’s back instead.

With more people around, Ladybug had expected they would be able to blend in more easily, but just the opposite was true. She kept getting stopped, and people would hand their phone to Alya so they could get a picture. It was infuriating, and after a few blocks they stopped to build Ladybug a disguise.

Alix shed her hat and sweatshirt, while Nino held Ivan’s jacket for him so he could offer Ladybug his flannel.

“It’s definitely too big to fit you,” he said apologetically. “But I figure you can tie it around your waist, because none of us are going to give up our pants.”

Ladybug looked down at her conspicuously crimson legs. “Good call,” she replied, zipping Alix’s hoodie over her suit.

Alya stepped forward and unwrapped her scarf, winding it around Ladybug’s neck. “It’s not much by way of a disguise,” she murmured. “But it really helps pull your whole outfit together, I think.”

Ladybug nuzzled into it. “Mmm. Soft.”

“And you’d better take good care of this,” Alya said sternly. “My girlfriend made it for me, got it?”

“Well, it’s nice.” Ladybug winked. “She’s got great taste.”

Alya crossed her arms and smirked. “Uh, hell yeah , she does.”

“Anyway,” Nino interrupted, glaring pointedly at Alya. “I don’t have anything to give you, because apparently I’m a delinquent. Best I could do is a hat, but you’ve already got that covered, so… We should keep going if we want to get good seats.”

They forged on, although the icy sidewalks and tightly-knit crowds seemed to want to separate them at every opportunity. Alix jumped back up on Ivan’s back, and used her perch to peer over all the people and find a clear path. Ladybug jumped and reached for Alya’s hand when someone spoke, but they weren’t addressing her.

“Hey, kids, it’s cold out. Where are your coats?” a stranger called out.

“Your mom’s house,” Nino and Alix shouted in unison. He reached out behind him, and she high-fived him.

“You know,” Alya whispered to Ladybug, “I think Nino’s upset with us for flirting with each other.”

“What? Why?”

Alya tapped her thumb against the big black spot on the back of Ladybug’s hand. “Gee, I don’t know.”

Ladybug wrinkled her nose. “Oh! Aw. He’s trying to defend my honor.”

“Yeah, and he thinks I’m a slut,” Alya pouted. “Oh, well. I guess I do have a type.”

“Hmm,” Ladybug agreed. “Or, everyone just loves you.” She leaned in to kiss Alya on the cheek.

Alya snickered and danced away, as far as she could without letting go of Ladybug’s hand. “Sorry, Ladybug,” she said, clutching dramatically at her chest with her free hand. “But my heart only belongs to one girl.”

“I, however, am incredibly single,” Alix piped up.

Nino rolled his eyes. “Anyway,” he said loudly, “I’m not sure we can snag enough seats next to each other. We might have to split into a few rows.”

Alya looked up in surprise. “Oh, wow. We’re here.”

“That, my friend, is the beauty of the travel montage,” Nino replied.

The show was in mid-act when they arrived, and was much more than a one-man performance. While the mime was there, and he was center-stage on the ground, the air behind him was full of twisting acrobats, on invisible wires and banners of purple and gold, suspended from the Tower itself.

Ladybug kept Alix’s hoodie and Alya’s scarf, but returned the other pieces of her disguise to their owners. They managed to find a cluster of seats, and Alya and Ladybug were finally--relatively--alone. Ladybug rested her head on Alya’s shoulder and laced their fingers together.

“Hey, Marinette?” Alya whispered after a few minutes. “Don’t you think this is maybe a little… I don’t know, dramatic?”

“I think that’s the point,” Ladybug whispered back, watching the mime wrestle with an acrobat some 10 meters above him.

“No, I mean.” Alya waved her hand, trying to encompass the whole convoluted scheme. “Why was Ladybug out tonight? Why did Marinette pretend to be busy? Why not just come hang out without all the fuss?”

“Honestly?” Ladybug looked up at Alya, wincing slightly. “It’s kind of a publicity stunt.”

“Huh?”

Ladybug was quick to amend her statement. “That is to say, we’re just showing people we’re around even when there’s nothing really going on. Like, you know, we’re people, too.”

“In like a ‘don’t do crime because we’re always watching’ way?” Alya asked.

“More like a ‘friendly neighborhood superhero’ thing,” Ladybug suggested. “Chat’s off somewhere too, probably hanging out with his friends. Anyway, I get to do my civic duty and take you on an awesome first date.”

“I’ve literally lost track of how many dates we’ve had,” Alya said. “But this is definitely not the first.”

“You’ve never been on a date with Ladybug before.”

Alya laughed. “It seems like you’re just splitting hairs.”

“Listen, our real first date was just a study date,” Ladybug countered. “I think it’s natural to want a second shot at that.”

Alya hummed in agreement. “Well, then, this is absolutely an improvement.”

“Yeah?”

As if in confirmation, a spray of fireworks shot out behind the Tower, framing all the performers with a backdrop of red and gold sparks as they launched into their grand finale routine. In the distance, the bells of some unseen church chimed midnight.

“Yeah.” Alya slipped her hand under Ladybug’s chin and rubbed her thumb across her cheek.

Ladybug leaned up to peck Alya on the cheek. “Happy New Year, Alya,” she murmured.

“Happy New Year, Marinette.”

[waitinginthedarke]

Maybe Someday

A Kwon Jiyong Story

Summary: She was a rose, and he was the darkness that should have killed it…but when a rose is made of enough light to penetrate even the deepest darkness, sometimes the two are able to become one…

Genre: Fluff, Smut.

Part 2

‘-The comeback is provisionally scheduled for mid-January, but in terms of time it seems like the beginning of March will be more doable and convenient for everyone, and with the girls comeback in only a week it will give you plenty of time to polish the songs to your hearts content-‘

‘Can I go on holiday?’

Jiyong wasn’t paying enough attention to watch the way Yang sighs heavily and glares up at him from beneath his brows where he’d been reading from the schedule on his desk, leaning back in his chair with an expression of scorn as he regards the man lounged across the sofa across the room from him.

‘Have you been listening to what I’ve been saying at all?’ Yang asks frustratedly, taking in the way Jiyong opens his eyes and turns to look at him with a neutral expression, raising his eyebrows when he sees Yang staring at him reproachfully.

‘Of course I have. But I just wondered when I would be able to have a break?...you know, maybe pop over to Peru…possibly Europe…’

‘Jiyong, you don’t do holidays. The last time you went you failed to relax once and spent the whole time working-‘

‘Because that was a working holiday.’ Jiyong cuts the older man off boredly, giving him a look that revealed how tired Jiyong truly was, before he sat up and leant forward on his knees to rest his head in his hands.

‘Look. Jiyong. All you have to do is get past the album release, and the world tour, and then you’ll have at least a month of relaxation before enlistment-‘

‘That’s in November.’ Jiyong states annoyedly, seeing the impatient look Yang shoots him when he realizes he wasn’t focusing on what he should be focusing on, and instead of arguing further, he simply stands up and stretches languidly, before heading to the door.

‘Where are you going?’ Yang demands tiredly, not making a move as he watches Jiyong walk away, but simply watching him tiredly instead.

‘I have 50 billion meetings today, but none of them are in the studio, so since I figure we’re finished here, I’m going to squeeze in some time to look at one of my new tracks now if you don’t mind.’ Jiyong explains politely, turning to bow to Yang pointedly just before he got to the door, smiling at him mock politely, before slipping from the room before the chief executive could stop him... not that he ever tried to.

You smile happily down at the cup of caffeine filled goodness in your hands as you walk back down the corridor to the studio you’d been hibernating in since the night before, having taken a break to walk to the coffee shop across the road from the YG building, and feeling much better for it as you feel the liquid energy begin to disperse into your veins.

However, its just as you go to walk into your studio that you see his usual studio door lit up, signalling someone was inside, and after deliberating for a moment you pull your phone out of your pocket as you walk into your studio, setting your coffee down and typing out a text to send to him.

[Y/N: Are you in your studio? X]

[KJ: Depends, whose asking?]

[Y/N: Me? X]

[KJ: Doors open ;)]

You couldn’t help the butterflies that bombard your stomach at his response, just like they did every time you messaged him, biting your lips to try to restrain your smile, but failing miserably as you pick up your coffee once more and make your way to Jiyong’s studio, pausing at the door and knocking quietly, before opening it to peek inside, checking no-one was in the corridor behind you first.

‘Hey.’ You say quietly, smiling shyly as you slip through the door and close it behind you, finding him lounged in his desk chair, but he’s not focused on the various screens and sound desks in front of him, instead, he’s laid back with his eyes closed, and his arms crossed, a drawn expression on his face which is disturbed momentarily as he peeks an eye open to look at you.

‘Hey…come here.’ He mutters, his command making you smile in puzzlement as you follow it, shuffling over to see what he was doing, and placing your coffee on the table by the sofa on the way past, before coming to a stop beside him.

‘How come you’re in here? You usually don’t get into your studio until-‘

‘Beautiful, let me cuddle you.’ He cuts you off, sitting up suddenly and reaching out to grab your waist, pulling you onto his lap which causes you to become flustered as you worry that someone was going to walk in on you both, before you settle after a few moments, and let him pull you into him so that you could lay on his chest with his arm wrapped comfortably around you, his cheek pressed to your head.

‘Ji, whats wrong?’ you ask quietly after a few minutes, beginning to trace light patterns across the skin of his arm as you wait for his answer and trying not to get wholly consumed by the warmth and softness of him surrounding you.

‘Nothings wrong. …I’m just tired. …and I wanted to have a moment with my girlfriend…isn’t that-‘

‘JI!’ you reprimand him, the way he’d simply stated that one word out loud- that could get you both into serious trouble if anyone found out- having you momentarily freaking out, before he clutches you tightly against him once more, pressing a light kiss to your hair that cuts your complaint off into silence.

‘Babe, be quiet. We were having a moment.’ He mutters, his voice tired, his exhaustion being emphasized in his sigh, and so despite the way your body was freaking out about the way he was touching you so lovingly despite the potential that anyone could walk in on the two of you at any minute, you comply with his wishes and snuggle into his chest, timidly side-eyeing his neck for a few seconds, before stretching your lips up to press a kiss against his throat.

‘Mmmm, what was that for?’ he murmurs, eyes closed as he fights the sleepiness that had suddenly overtaken him with the feeling of happiness and safety he felt having you in his arms.

‘You seem tired.’ You mumble, your attention becoming increasingly consumed with the spot on his neck that you’d kissed as you begin to wonder what it would taste like today; what perfume he’d be wearing.

‘Mmh, early starts always get me.’ He explains, chuckling quietly, before there is a stagnant pause, and then: ‘It felt good.’

He always seemed to know when you needed a nudge.

You only hesitate for a moment, before shyly pressing your lips to his neck again, attempting to settle your racing heart as you linger there, before drawing in a quiet breath from his throat and parting your lips to stroke your tongue timidly across his skin, feeling his heartbeat faintly through the thin flesh, but hearing the satisfied sigh that escapes him as he loosens his grip on you so that you could readjust yourself slightly, leading you to be laid on top of him.

Today it was rich berries and liquorice, a hint of woodsmoke tantalizing your tastebuds as the aftertaste evolves into the sting of alcohol and chemicals, but the mix of fruit and candy alone has you going back for more, your hands gripping gently at his biceps as you lay open mouthed kisses across his neck. He appears to be so lost in your caresses, that its not until his phone is ringing, breaking up the quiet sounds of pants and barely there moans, that you realize you’d become a lot rougher in your ministrations, the sound making you jolt back on his lap to see that you’d littered his neck with small red marks that mingled among hues of purple.

‘Crap-‘

‘Hello?’

You quickly shut up when you realize he’d answered the phone, looking at his face and finding him watching you with eyes full of thoughts that seemed far from PC, but at that moment you were too busy biting your lip and gently grazing your fingertips across the marks you’d made, that you don’t realize just how excited he’d become.

‘I had half an hour spare, I’ll be there in 2 minutes- yes, im aware you hate it when I run off but I am still a person, I have rights- yeah….okay…sure…I’ll be there in a minute.’ He mutters, his voice losing enthusiasm as he hangs up the phone and glances up at you, before reaching up to pull gently at your lip with his thumb to get you to stop biting it.

‘I might have got a bit carried away.’ You murmur quietly before you could chicken out from telling him, still so scared that one day you’d put a foot too far out of line with him and he’d have a diva fit on you, but you knew that was just your fear of his superstar status.

‘I did notice you were rather into it.’ He mutters, smirking up at your half worried, half embarrassed expression and you go back to biting your lip as your mind races to think of some way to hide the marks.

‘Beautiful, you don’t have to worry- Wait! Where are you going?’ he calls when you scramble off of his lap, standing to chase after you, but stopping when you raise your hands to tell him to wait as you dart out the door to run to your studio before returning.

‘What are you-‘

‘Sit down.’ You command, your worry over him being late for whatever meeting he had making you climb back onto his lap and tilt his head to the side without a comment, before beginning to apply the concealer to his neck that you’d grabbed from your bag.

‘Are you putting make-up on me?’ he chuckles, his hands that had found their way to your hips kneading your sides happily as he allows you to paint his skin.

‘I don’t want people spreading rumors about you.’ You mutter as you concentrate, beginning to apply the foundation powder and being extra careful not to get any on his shirt.

‘One day im going to tell the world that you’re mine.’ He states definitely, his voice hard and you pause as you apply the final bit of powder, sighing as you sense his usual argument on the tip of his tongue, the foreboding in his words causing you to lean your forehead against his as you close your eyes.

‘One day…Everyone will know how much I love you.’ He whispers, knowing you were fully concentrating on him at this point, and the two of you share a moment as you silently battle with him, knowing he was thinking about all the arguments you’d had about not upsetting the fans…about not becoming a spectacle…about not breaking the company rules….about protecting you…

‘You have work to do.’ You mutter quickly before he could say anything else, bringing yourself out of the imagined utopia of being able to show everyone that he was yours and you were his, and quickly setting a kiss on his lips, before climbing off of his lap and heading to the door.

‘What about your coffee?’ he asks, voice somehow even more tired than before, and despite the battle within yourself not to turn and look at him, you still glance back at his warm brown eyes boring into you, his hand outstretched with your coffee cup clutched in it as he silently begged you not to leave, but you end up just smiling at him sadly.

‘Keep it. …you look like you need it more than me.’

(T.B.C)

[ladyamandapanda12]

The King and I Chap.3

Thanks for patience everyone! Im officially settled and have my writing office set up!

Woohoo!

Warnings: Adult Content

Chap. 2 Here

Chapter 3

Rehearsals had run late that night. Like past dinner and well into the night late. Tia didn’t return to the palace until 1am. She felt terrible for missing dinner, especially since it was her first night back in the palace. However, with a semi new crew, and a new soundboard for her techs to master, rehearsal didn’t run as smooth as anticipated. As Tia made her way inside the palace and towards the stairs. She pondered if she had the strength to make it up all 32 steps. Luckily her hunger was rising, and she knew that there were always leftovers in the kitchen. So she waved a passing hand at the taunting steps and made her way to the kitchen.

To her surprise, she was not the only one looking for a late-night snack. Maurice the chef from Cancun, Mexico was also in the kitchen, rummaging over the left overs. Maurice hadn’t noticed that Tia had come in, but she was too tired to scare him. Instead she took a seat at the counter, and waited for him to turn around and acknowledge her.

“Buena Noches lady Tia.” He spoke as he continued drying the dishes.

“Don’t you mean Buenos Dias? It is technically morning.”

“You are right Buenos Dias, Como estas?”

“I’m sleepy and hungry as fuck.” Tia stated with an unapologetic giggle.

“Well I made spaghetti for dinner. I can heat some up for you.” Maurice offered, Tia gave him a quizzical look.

“Neh no thanks.”

“The usual then?”

“Yes please.”

As Maurice moved to grab the box of graham crackers. He snatched the peanut butter up along the way, last stop was for the honey.  Maurice then remembered that he had given it to Sebastian while they did arts and crafts earlier and the little one never brought it back. As he explained to Tia the reason for the lack of honey, someone else was listening outside of the hallway. Whom was also having a tough time sleeping. Maurice poured Tia a glass of warm milk, and giggled as she drooled over the simple snack.

“Yep that’s my little one. He’s creative as fuck. We may not ever see that honey again.” She smiled as she stuffed the topped graham cracker in her mouth.

“He misses you so much when your gone T. Sometimes I make his favorite dessert 4 to 5 times a week just to cheer him up.”

“I don’t know how he has time to miss me. We talk on the phone damn near every day!”

Maurice busted out in a laugh. In the midst of calming he noticed a familiar figure in the hallway that startled him. However, as he was about to offer them to join them, they motioned for him not to say anything.

“I kid you not! Like when I am at my daytime job, everyone knows to leave me alone between certain times. But I love it. We always talk about different stuff, he’s always so warm, and I miss these two boys all the time. They have become my world.”

“So here’s a more important question… How are you going to explain missing first night’s dinner? Hmm?”

Tia rolled her eyes and started massage her temples.

“That new sound board is a BITCH!” Maurice couldn’t bite back another gut bursting laugh. “I mean a true bitch from the beginning to the end. It did not like me, or the sound techs. Praise god that the manual wasn’t thrown out! SO my techs will be going over it the next few days. The damn machine is smarter then all of us college degreed heathens put together. But it’s okay I’m too tired, and the milk is getting to me. So if you will excuse me, I will see you in the manana.”

“Wait I have a question. When are you and Chris going to get your feelings together and get together.” Tia just looked at Maurice.

“Ha, yeah okay, considering he despises me, and I’m not too keen on him yeah…. Good Night Maurice.” Tia stepped out and didn’t even notice the figure standing merely 5ft away behind her. Or so the figure thought. “Go to bed Sebastian, you should be in bed too Chris.”

Sebastian was puzzled turning around he realized his father was behind him listening as well. Maurice knew Sebastian was there, but Chris was news to him. Once Chris stepped out Sebastian said good night to both men and ran upstairs. Once the little one was out of sight Maurice bowed his head and acknowledged the king, and began to clean up the kitchen again. Chris moved to the fridge to grab a beer. Maurice pulled out the pop top opener and handed it to him. Chris popped the cap off and caught it before it could hit the floor. He leaned against the fridge and took a long draw from the glass bottle. With a breath and some liquid courage, he spoke.

“If she only knew.”

Maurice turned to look at him, he was taking another swig of his beer. “Pardon me your majesty?”

“If only she knew. I don’t despise her at all. It’s just… I can’t not right now. I have to look out for my boys. I can’t be in a relationship with someone who.” Chris began counting on his fingers. “One has no title, two lives on the other side of the world, and three wont love me. I just can’t.”

“In her defense your majesty you haven’t made it easy for her to love you.” Chris looked at Maurice he wanted to be upset with him but he knew he was right. “Secondly you know if you married her she would move here for you and the boys. Now the title thing I can’t solve, but if you make her your wife. Wouldn’t she become a duchess or something like that?”

“Yeah something like that.”

“And you know you don’t have to worry about the boys. They love her to pieces. She would fit right into this little routine you guys have going on. And she would make a lovely acting queen. But that’s my opinion, and I’m biased sooo do what you feel in your heart and gut is best. Good night your majesty.” Maurice gave another little bow and started to exit the room. He had made it to the door when Chris pipped out.

“I do love her.” Finishing off the bottle.

Maurice turned around, and walked back up to where he was standing. “Then tell her. Show her, she thinks quite the opposite of you right now. But she’s too open minded to stay that way. Play on that, show her that you want to be with her. She will come around.”

“How do you know?” Chris looked at the man with heavy eyes.

“Because she loves your kids. And she respects what you do as a king. She thinks you’re a handsome douche.” Maurice then winced that wasn’t supposed to come out. “But like I said show her how you feel and she will come around.” Maurice turned and this time tried to leave a little more hastily before he word vomited again.

Chris placed his bottle in the sink and made his way from the kitchen back to his chambers. On the way back he thought about how he could convey his feelings to Tia. A short walk later and he was passing her bedroom. A part of him told him to keep walking, the other part told him to go in there and exactly show her how he felt.  As he stood there and pondered his choices he decided he would knock and gauge her reaction. He knocked 3 times quietly trying not to alert the palace of his plans.

Tia was in her robe after a quick shower. Her body still a little damp not realizing her breast were on partial display she opened the door, expecting a little one for a good night kiss. To her surprise, it wasn’t a little one at all.

She was in awe really. His face flushed, and the smell of alcohol coming off his breath was slightly making Tia wet.

“Yes sir? What can I do for you?”

“I just wanted to make sure you got the pictures the boys made.”

“I did. They are great thank you. I love all the little arts and crafts projects. I keep them in a scrap book at home. So when they get older and start to date I have embarrassing photo ammo.”

Chris couldn’t stand it anymore. The natural scent of Tia’s body and the smell of shower gel was intoxicating Chris. Tia noticed that his pupils had gone dark. Also that an erection was growing under his pajama pants. As much as she would like to ride that ride she couldn’t. She shouldn’t, ‘too much on the line’ she thought to herself.

“Well if that is all I think I will turn in. I’m going to have to answer for my absence at last night’s dinner to our mini parliament in the morning. Ill need my sleep for that.” Tia let out a nervous giggle. Chris moved his hands across his pants rubbing his erection. Not breaking eye contact with Tia he took a step closer and placed his arms around her waist. Tia was very much caught off guard, but she wasn’t going to pull away. She had always been curious about Chris. Chris licked his lips, and moved one hand up to Tia’s breast. Massaging it wanting to expose it to the cool crisp air to get its reaction. He wanted her mouth on his. He rubbed for her nipple through the thick fabric of the robe. And even through the thickness he could feel her nipple hardening. Tia made a bold move and moved her hand to his erection. Tracing the length of it with two fingers.

As she looked back up into Chris eyes she knew what was going to happen and she welcomed it. She placed her other hand on his face to move him closer to hers. So close they could feel the heat pass from one mouth to the other. As Chris moved his head, for his mouth to take hers she opened slightly for him. He crashed his mouth on hers, pulling her closer to him. The kiss was different, fireworks is not a grand enough word. Tia broke the kiss for air. She tried to step back, but Chris grip was still firm. She smiled at him and as she motioned for him to join her, an unsuspecting voice broke through the silence. They released each other immediately and looked to see where the voice came from. It was Henry, half asleep and on his way to the restroom. He didn’t even notice them really, just counting his steps.

“I better go make sure he makes it.” Chris spoke surveying Tia’s face searching for something he wasn’t sure of.

“Of course we don’t want any accidents in the hall. Good night your majesty.”

“Chris. And I plan on finishing this conversation.”

“Chris, I would love that. Good night, and kiss the little one for me.”

As Tia stepped back and motioned to close her door, Chris stepped in and pulled her forward taking another passionate kiss from her. His tongue danced with hers, she moved her hands to his face to get a grip on her situation. She broke the kiss and looked at him.

“Yes I would certainly love to finish this convo. Good night Chris.”

Tia playfully and gently pushed him out of the room with two of her fingers. Once he was fully out she shut and locked the door. Taking her first deep inhale since he had knocked. She stumbled to bed on a passion high and fell straight to sleep. After Chris made sure Henry made it back to his room. He was again faced with the same dilemma as earlier. ‘Do I knock and see what happens? I want her, Its just… Maybe… not yet.’ As Chris began walking back to his chambers he had a devilish grin on his face.

‘Not yet but soon.’

@sergeantmistress @myluvislikewow @devikafernando @daisykane535 @theycallmebecca @toc1985 @smilexcaptainx @thaniya82 @emilyevanston @evansscruff

If I missed you it wasnt on purpose send me a message and I’ll add you to the tag!

[rizuno]

Write me a ficlet about Stiles finding random love poems/notes written on little scraps of paper stuffed in weird places, like between the seats in the Jeep, in the pockets of hoodie he swore he just washed so how could there be intact paper in there, in his shoes, under his pillow. Who is writing all these notes and how do they keep randomly appearing on Stiles person!?!?!

This is unbeta-d, and I am subjecting you dear reader(s?) to poetry written by me masquerading as English!Major Derek Hale. BASICALLY I’m SORRY ABOUT THE CRAP POETRY OK. also im really fuckin pissed off about the spacing of the poems but tumblr is adamant about pretending to not know what the fuck im trying to do when i try and reformat it i need to stop before i just delete this whole post in a fit of RAGE

For RachelBBY

Scraps

The first time it happens, Stiles doesn’t think anything of it. He figures he just wrote it himself in English and then forgot. It’s just a neglected scrap of paper hiding amidst other papers under his desk, sacrificed on the altar of a weekly allowance with everything else he throws out as he cleans his room. He only really glanced at it anyway, he was preoccupied with being pissed off at Derek for being Derek, thinks it said something about heartbeats and irregular spaces. So that was the incident, he supposes.

The second time he’s got his hand stuffed in the crease of Roscoe’s passenger seat in a desperate search for just one fucking quarter, just one, and withdraws a crumpled piece of paper instead. “How long has that been there?” Stiles asks himself as he de-crumples it to read it. He snorts. Obviously quite a while, it’s a poem, and Stiles knows he didn’t write this one, which means it’s circa the Scott/Allison Era.

you laughed

it was Tuesday

you didn’t know I was there

“Not half bad Scotty,” Stiles murmurs, not bothering to finish the rest of it as he tosses it aside and resumes the quest for one measly quarter cause he just wants a burger. Out of life, all he wants is to eat a burger right now. It’s not so much to ask? Right?

He bitches and moans to Scott about his inability to find a quarter and thus eat a burger, but forgets to ask him about the poem thing. The next time he sees Derek, Derek flips him a quarter with a smirk. “Oh, fuck you,” Stiles says, but pockets the quarter and eats him that fucking burger later that night, after they have all managed, miraculously, to not die. “Victory comes in all forms,” Stiles informs Scott sagely in between mouthfuls. So that’s the coincidence, in all its glory.

The third time has Stiles paying the fuck attention, because he’s digging around his back pocket for the quarter Derek gave him, and just as he remembers he spent it already, his fingers close around what must be a receipt. Stiles heaves a grunt of disgust, no curly fries for him then, and glances at the scrap of paper uninterestedly, out of habit, as his arm moves to toss it into the trashcan across the hall. And then he freezes. It’s not some forgotten transaction, it’s a fucking poem. What the fuck. Stiles unfolds the paper and reads the words in their entirety this time, standing in the middle of the hallway as other students stream around him as they head to class. It’s not very long, but it feels like Stiles takes several hours to read it. He reads it like it was meant for him. It must be? Right?

I think

you don’t think of me

all that often

but I think of you

quite often

I’m thinking of you now

I think of you in the morning

I think of you in my bed

at night

I wonder

if you’re thinking of me now

Stiles swallows. His mouth has gone dry. He feels like he just walked in on someone watching some really hot porn. He feels…intimate. He feels…like he’s now late for science. Stiles whirls around in a flail of limbs and pelts to the science lab. But that scrap of paper he doesn’t toss aside. That scrap he keeps. So there’s the pattern.

Stiles was sorta expecting the next one but he wasn’t prepared to find it lying on his keyboard; not there when he went downstairs to grab a soda and now there when he returns.

He tells himself his fingers are shaking with caffeine intake as he reaches out to unfold it, where it lays so innocuously.

He licks his lips, then reads.

I know you’re thinking of me now

will you think of me tonight

in your bed

with your own hands upon yourself

gasping

flushed

and undone

“Ffffuck,” Stiles hisses out between his teeth. There is no way he’s gonna make it to tonight. He’s got a really great jerk off session going, standing there right in front of his desk at 3:30 in the afternoon, pants only pulled down the bare minimum. He’s like feeling it, he is totally ready for this, ‘makes his knees weak’ orgasm he’s coming up on. And then of course, Scotty has to burst in freaking out about supernatural crisis 3B or 6A or whatever number letter combo they’re on now.

“Come on, man!” They both yell at the same time, Scott throwing up his arms and facing the wall as Stiles fumbles to stuff himself back inside his pants. Scott feels the need to ask why. Stiles rants that it’s the privacy of his own fucking room. Scott mutters something about how Derek thinks they need info. “Since when do you listen to what Derek thinks,” Stiles says petulantly as he tosses Scott a bag of Doritos and moves to sit back at his desk. Scott eats the chips on Stiles’ bed as Stiles furiously looks up shit to the best of his ability. The moment is already forgotten. That sort of awkwardness has happened before, and will probably happen again. Which come on Scott, werewolf, use those supernatural senses for once.  After Scott is gone Stiles wonders what four times means. Also he mourns the loss of one of the greatest orgasms he never got to experience.

He finds the next one two nights later, under his pillow as he stretches out on his bed. He’s so relaxed and he’s in bed at a decent hour. Derek did not manage to piss him off when they came across each other briefly earlier in the evening and Stiles is ready for some nappy naps. When his fingers brush the edge of the crinkled bit of paper the first feeling he gets is surprise. It’s quickly followed by a quick dip of excitement in his gut. He doesn’t bother to switch any lights on. Too much effort. He reads it by the light of his phone.

I whisper your name to myself

after you’ve left

it’s fairly pathetic

but then last week

you trapped yourself inside your own hoodie

so at least I’m not alone

And Stiles knows. “Derek,” Stiles whispers furiously. He chucks the paper as hard as he can away from him. Which, it being paper, isn’t that far. It flutters down to rest on the bed beside him. That fucking asshole has been laughing at him this whole fucking time. So that’s what comes after a pattern. Epic fuckery.

Stiles sees Derek first thing the next morning; he’s having like, a pre-game huddle with the Erica-Isaac-Boyd triumvirate in the back parking lot behind the gym. “Stiles,” Derek greets him, the hint of a smile on his lips. “You are pathetic,” Stiles snarls at him. Derek’s jaw clenches and his expression turns cold and distant. Stiles whirls around and marches off in righteous fury. Stiles has enough fucking going on in his life without that kind of shit. Stiles thought, he’d thought…it doesn’t even matter what he thought. He was stupid and a dumbass for thinking it.

So naturally he finds the next poem sandwiched in between the pages of this month’s Great English Novel during 3rd period of that day. Stiles isn’t sure when or even how Derek got it in there, but it certainly wasn’t after this morning. He almost doesn’t read it, doesn’t want to give Derek the satisfaction, but he’s Stiles. He must fucking know. He can’t not.

I dreamed of you

it was warm

and bright

and we were safe

you took my hand

and my heart blazed brighter

when I woke

I pretended that it was the future

and if I am patient

that it will be

any day now

“What,” Stiles whispers. His own heart is sinking fast within his chest. His hand clenches down on the poem. “It was all real,” He realizes out loud.

“What?” Scott whispers from the seat behind him.

Stiles whips around in his seat to face him. “Cover for me,” Stiles begs.

Scott doesn’t know what’s going on, but he doesn’t hesitate. “Go,” he says.

Stiles slips from the room, so preoccupied he doesn’t notice that he doesn’t trip or smack into something once.

Derek won’t be at his apartment. Instinctively, Stiles knows this. He jumps in Roscoe and heads straight for the preserve.

The burned out husk of the Hale house looks as tragic and decimating as ever, but that feeling is especially poignant for Stiles at this moment. He gives Roscoe’s wheel one last squeeze, for luck or bravery or whatever, and steps out of the jeep. He tries to repress a shiver as he looks at the charred and broken edifice before him and fails. This had seemed so much simpler, less complicated back in 3rd period. No, Stiles can do this, he absolutely can. He leaps up what’s left of the front steps and barges through the door. “Derek,” he calls.

A few moments of silence, and then a resigned sigh. “What?” Derek asks, voice flat as he materializes out of wherever he was.

Stiles waves the hand that has not once unclenched on the poem in Derek’s general direction.

“You’re serious?” He accuses.

Derek’s stone face takes on a look of frustration. “Yes, Stiles, I’m serious.”

“I…I mean…why?”

Derek sighs like it’s obvious. “I wrote you poems Stiles.”

Stiles seizes upon a detail he has the mental facilities to deal with at this moment. “Why poems though?”

Derek rolls his eyes. “I’m an English Major, Stiles.” Which rude because, like,

“How was I supposed to know that,” Stiles says defensively.

They stand in silence. Derek doesn’t seem inclined to word anymore today and Stiles is furiously thinking.

“You wanna,” and his left hand, the one not still grasping the poem, makes an abortive movement towards Derek, “hold hands?”

After a moment, Derek uncrosses his arms and says, “Okay.” He reaches out, and then they’re holding hands, bridging a gap between them. It’s kind of…awkward. But it’s only awkward in that Stiles suspects feelings are present kind of way, because Derek’s thumb strokes gently along the back of his hand and Stiles feels kinda like, heart blazing or whatever.

“I think of you pretty often,” Stiles admits. “Like, a lot.”

Derek swallows. “Okay.”

BONUS:

First Poem

your heartbeats are

irregular spaces

I dwell there

and refuse to meet your eyes

when you glance my way

Second Poem

you laughed

it was Tuesday

you didn’t know I was there

I have kept it

for myself; that laugh

longing

for your real

and intransigent

presence

[mochitaiia]

Four O’Clock

apheeweek day seven: Midnight + Flower shop AU + Sveest

“They’re called Four O’Clocks ‘cause they only bloom at night. D’ya wanna see ‘em?”

(also on ao3)

Aaaaaaand final day of apheeweek! I get to complete my goal of writing all the Nordic/Estonia ships. :’)

The image of Berwald having a personal garden inside his flower shop is too cute to pass up, and I found some exclusively night-blooming flowers and I feel like they fit him, specifically Four O’Clocks

-

I’m not a wedding planner, thinks Eduard. He thinks this thought several dozen times on his way to the flower shop. He isn’t a wedding planner, but he is planning a wedding. Toris’ wedding specifically. How he landed a partner is beyond Eduard; between the two of them, he always considered Toris the one that lagged behind.

Then again, Toris has a fiance. And a house. And a better paying job. And now, with these realizations, he also has Eduard’s playful contempt.

Latin stares back at him on his phone screen as he pushes open the glass door to the shop. It’s quaint, aromatic (It’s a damn flower shop, of course it is.), and comfortable, like home.

Eduard never gets out in nature much. Most of his job allows him to stay at home, programming websites for small local businesses. He only leaves to buy groceries, or see Toris or Raivis or Tino. And he never needs to see any of them, so he doesn’t leave. It’s a bit lonely he supposes, but he doesn’t mind.

He opens his mouth to call a greeting, get the attention of somebody, but nobody is around. He checks the time. It’s just after seventeen, so somebody should be around. The shop closes at eighteen. He waits for another minute, staring at the Latin on his phone, trying to identify what Toris wants for the wedding in the shop based solely off name, but he has little success staying in one spot. When nobody comes to help him five minutes later, he makes himself comfortable and begins browsing alone.

Among the flowers, his fumbling to find whatever Toris asked of him leads him to a closed-off room. The lights are off, but the sunroof lets in the last bit of sunset the approaching fall allows before winter takes over. Eduard raises his hand like a visor over his eyes and rests it against the glass to peek in. His eyes dart between his phone and the flowers he can make out before he decides nothing in there is what he’s looking for. He rolls his eyes at the futility, turning around.

He all but jumps out of his skin when over six feet of blonde intimidation stares down at him.

Dropping his phone is the least of his worries. The stranger in front of him is big, extremely big, and his arms are as big around as Eduard’s head. The man’s glasses sit precariously on the very tip of his nose. An apron, presumably the shop uniform, is tied over his tight black shirt and dusty jeans. His hands are stuck in his pockets, and with his back straight he stands so tall Eduard has to crane up to look at him from his semi-crouched, surprised position.

The man mutters something, but Eduard can’t hear him. His eyes fall to the apron where a name is stitched into the blue fabric. Berwald. He blinks.

“Can I help ya?”

Eduard snaps out of his thoughts when the tall man, Berwald based off the stitching, speaks. His voice is gruff, raspy, as if he doesn’t use it much. Based on how quiet the shop is, he probably doesn’t. Weakly, he replies, “Uh... my friend, he’s got a wedding, and he wants me to find him some flowers. I don’t know what they are-”

In the middle of him speaking, Berwald kneels down and retrieves Eduard’s fallen phone from the floor. He pulls of the corner of his apron and wipes the screen. Once he drops the apron, he adjusts his glasses and looks at the screen. Silently, he walks away with the phone. Eduard presumes he’s to follow Berwald, so he does.

Not three minutes pass before Berwald locates every flower Toris had listed. He plucks one from every vase and offers the makeshift bouquet to Eduard. “These’r’em.” His voice rumbles so low in his throat, and if he weren’t so intimidated he’d admit it’s kind of attractive how deep Berwald’s voice is. He always did have a thing for people stronger than him. “Y’can get whichever ya like, or ya can call yer friend an’ ask him which he’d prefer. Whatever works fer ya.”

“He-” Eduard swallows the lump in his throat. “Toris is at a fitting today until half past eighteen. He won’t be done until after you close...” Berwald doesn’t respond, and as is his nervous habit, he fills in the silence. “Well, I could call him and ask him! Let me just have my phone and I can-”

“’s fine,” dismisses Berwald. He offers the phone. “I don’t have any other customers, an’ no plans tonight. Y’can call ‘im when he’s done. Unless,” his eyes turn away, and curiously he seems embarrassed, “y’got other plans. Which if ya do, don’t need t’stay. Come back tomorrow.” The makeshift bouquet, which Eduard hasn’t taken yet, raises up and hides his face. Even with the blockade, he can clearly spot a blush upon Berwald’s cheeks.

Instead of answering him directly, Eduard gestures to the side room door where Berwald initially surprised him. “What’s in there?”

If he’s not mistaken, Berwald’s eyes widen a fraction in surprise. It’s like the guy expected Eduard to be bolting out the door instead of asking him a conversational question. His expression softens and a small smile peeks through the gaps in the bouquet. “My garden.”

“What kinda flowers do you have planted?” Eduard’s not sure why he’s asking questions and not leaving. It’s probably the way Berwald seems to relax, and the way a bit of light glitters in the back of his eyes. It’s cute. Even on such a large, intimidating, scary man, the glimmer of happiness at being engaged in a conversation is cute and it makes Eduard want to talk to him more.

“Mostly this one kind. They’re called Four O’Clocks ‘cause they only bloom at night. D’ya wanna see ‘em?” Without hesitation, Eduard nods. Berwald sets the bouquet of Toris’ flowers on the front desk and on the way to the personal garden, he stops and flips the sign at the front of the store to indicate the shop is closed. It makes a bit of nervousness pool in Eduard’s gut, but he ignores it. Berwald doesn’t seen the type to... do something like that.

Berwald digs a key out of his pants pocket and unlocks the door. He slides through and holds the door open until Eduard’s inside. He shuts it and makes his way along the edge of the garden, kneeling halfway. Eduard follows carefully, not wanting to lose his balance and crush what appears to be a loving project by Berwald.

“These.” Extending a finger towards the center, Berwald indicates a vibrant mix of yellow, white and pink flowers. Eduard leans forward, hands on his knees as he gets a better view. The flowers are in pristine condition, and it’s evident gentle care and consideration went into their upkeep.

Eduard breaths out, “They’re so pretty,” and he hears a proud rumble come from Berwald. He glances out of the corner of his eye and the blush is back on his face. His hand is raised in an attempt to hide it, but Eduard can still see tinges of red. He tries not to grin, but he can’t help it. “I can tell you really put forth effort to make these the best they can be. Tell me about them.”

Berwald catches his eye, and his blush increases. “If I did that, we’d here here ‘til midnight.”

“Well,” Eduard squats to be less than eye-level (even down here Berwald is so much larger, and it makes his pulse skip a little), “you said you don’t have any plans.” He raises his phone and shuts it off right in front of Berwald’s eyes. “Now I don’t either. You have any tea?”

Getting lip from Toris’ partner for not getting the flowers ordered will be well worth it. Eduard has more important things to do, like stay up until well past midnight chatting with a handsome, surprisingly shy stranger about his garden. Even when his eyes grow heavy, he can’t bring himself to point out it’s nearly one in the morning.

Eduard falls asleep around four o’clock on Berwald’s couch, and he wakes up with an apron smelling of flowers and an earthy scent covering his body along with a blanket. The pillow his head rests on smells so nice, so much like Berwald that he figures he can sleep another few minutes. He shuts his blurry eyes and hums peacefully.

What Eduard doesn’t notice is the pillow he cuddles is, in fact, Berwald’s chest, and the owner of said chest is a flustered mess when he smiles and presses closer. As he drifts off again, he barely feels a hand rest on his shoulder comfortingly, protectively.

[horgons-vengance]

Chapter 6

Ken sat in the small, dark chamber alone, breathing steadily, studying every part of the room.

After 20 minutes of studying the room, Ken pulled a bull’s horn out of his coat, and began to describe the room to the horn, down to each tile, and each crack.

This took an hour, and once Ken described the last crack, put the horn away, put his hat on, stood up, and began to move to leave, when the door flew open and hit him in the chest, causing him to stumble back.

“What the hell!”

Davin laughed “Well don’t stand so close to the door, dumbass.”

“Don’t open the door so fast, no reason to try and break our house.”

Ken stood a solid 2 feet over Davin. Not because Davin was short. Matter of fact he was exceptionally  tall for a human.

Kenshiro was a Minotaur, standing at about 7’10.

Massive compared to nearly anyone, Ken was the largest resident of Bronte, and also its Mayor.

     “My mistress wants to see you ‘Mister Mayor’ about your taxes.”

    Ken sighed “Why does this not surprise me that she is upset at a small tax. Lead the way.”

    Davin turned to leave the small room, and stepped into the foyer of the small Castle. Tapestry hung on the walls decrypting the symbol of the succubus, a small pair horns on an attractive woman with a tail in the shape of a heart around her. Mahogany tables with expensive center pieces every 10 feet. Ken looked at them as they passed and thought to himself

  “She’s upset about a Hundred gold a month tax, but has five Ten thousand gold center pieces in one room. I can’t believe this woman.”

  Davin opened a large door at the other end of the foyer into an office, and at the other end of the Office sat a woman, her skin a slight purple, small curved horns sticking out of her head. She was wearing skin tight leather suit that left little to the imagination, and her tail was flicking around, similar in fashion to a cat about to pounce. Her hair was a bright pink, long and Curly. She was staring out the large bay window facing over the town

  “So Ken, what right do you think you have to tax my business such an outrageous amount.” The woman, still looking out the window.

  Ken sighed and said “Well for one, I’m the Mayor, so its kind of my job, and two you are rent free, and you make a hundred gold in about 3 customers. Im making you basically pay chump change.”

 She turned, Her piercing blue eyes squinted angrily. “I shouldn’t have to pay a tax, I let you live here.”

“Listen, Lilith, I’m not the town, you are paying taxes to help the town, not me.”

Lilith got even more upset “ But you made the tax you idiot, and I don’t want to pay it. Now pack your stuff and get out of my house, I’m sick of you and your Taxes and town problems. Come back when you have real things for me to worry about.”

   As Lilith said that, there was a knock at the door.

“Come in” Lilith know only towns folk knocked, and they don’t bother her unless it’s important.

   In stepped Jake, the local mage's apprentice, with a worried look on his face. “My lady, Kenshiro there seems to be a large group of soldiers approaching, with their banners raised. I think it’s the Paladins again.” It had been quite awhile since the Paladins tried to bother them, since last time they killed the goblin that threw bombs at whatever moved and Ken had struck back by cleaving one of theirs in half with his massive axe. They called truce, and said no more blood needed to be spilt, then left.

   A voice behind Jake spoke, like a breeze of wind, soft and quiet and gentle, but at the same time, eerie and disturbing. “It is time. This is the final step to our plan.”

   Ken jumped slightly, startled by the sudden voice. “Ok, we seriously need to put a bell on you Shia.”

   A figure walked in from behind Jacob, wearing a midnight black cowl, with armor so dark that one couldn’t tell if it was cloth or part of the abyss.

      Shia’s face was not visible in the cowl, looking more like a specter then another person. The only thing visible on Shia’s person was the bow on Their back, and the rapier on Their waist.

   “No time, we must meet our guests” Said Shia, Their voice crept out from the cowl, with there being no sign of them saying anything, no movement, just a voice.

  Ken sighed, getting sick of the fact no one in the group had a sense of humor. “Fine, get Balgam and Abraham, and we will finish this.”

    ____________________________________

Ken stood at the edge of the forest surrounding Bronte, now donning his Dark blue Half plate armor and Wielding his Giant great axe, which sparked with electricity.

   Abraham stood next to him, in his blood red gi. Abraham was only other decently tall person in the group, standing at 6 foot 5 inches, though Ken still towered over him.

  Abraham’s hair was spiked back, which, to Ken at least, made him look like a large porcupine.

  His eyes glowed red in anticipation of the battle about to commence. Battle was really the only reason Abraham was there. Not once has he cared about the plan that Shia had in motion, nor did he care about his deity telling him to ensure this plan went through. He just wants a good fight.

 Balgam stood beside him, stirring some sort of concoction. Balgam was a large rat, about the size of a ten year old. One could smell him from 20 feet away and it only got worse the closer they got.

  There were bumps and large puss bubbles all over Balgam, and his fur was stuck to his body with fluids. He quite literally looked like the plague and smelled like it. That’s all he was, a large plague rat that wanted nothing but to spread his own personal plague.

  Lilith stood in the same clothes she was in before because, in her words, “The enemy will get distracted.” though now she held a wooden staff.

  Davin stood next to her, now in black full plate, with a scimitar and a purple tower shield almost the size of him. The tower shield had the same insignia as the tapestry back in the castle.

  Shia stood the same as before, though now with the bow drawn, and an arrow notched.

   Davin decided to break the silence in typical Davin fashion, by asking a stupid question.

  “Where are they? I thought they would be here by now.”

“I already told you, I had my underlings slow them down so you could play dress up.” Balgam responded with a snarl.

  “Would you prefer that I come out here in a sleeveless shirt and Leather pants and just flex at them?”

   Lilith laughed “I would.”

Ken laughed as well then turned his face serious as he saw the approaching band of men. “Time to Focus.”

 There were about 17 soldiers approaching,some with crossbow bolts sticking out of the cracks in their armor and blood on their chest from Balgam’s underlings they had killed.

  “Oh great, now I have to get more.” Balgam said, then fell into a coughing fit.

  Most of the men were in metal armor with four in the back in leather armor and wielding bows.

  One man in the front had bright shining armor that glowed with the radiance of the sun, and a insignia on his shield depicting the sun. His war hammer glowed the same as his armor, and all of it looked clean, even though it was obvious he was just in a battle.

   “Thats our target.” Shia said.

The man in the shining armor held up his hand to stop his men about 100 feet away from the group standing opposite of them. He motioned for something to be brought forward. It was a table and a jug of ale, and had the men bring it to the middle of the two groups, and sat. He motioned for someone of Ken’s group to come forward.

  “So, whos gonna go talk the shiny idiot?” Lilith asked.

  Ken sighed “I’ll go, maybe he will make this easy for us and give up.”

  “Probably not dumbass”

  “Thanks Davin, glad to see you still haven’t figured out sarcasm”

  “Eat me.”

Ken walked to the table and sat down, he could see all of the men in the army become tense as a giant minotaur approached their leader. This is the usual reaction, though Ken was the best negotiator of the group, because he didn’t try to immediately kill them if it doesn’t go his way.

  “So Ken, we meet again.” the man spoke as he approached. “Glad to see they sent the sensible one to come out and talk.”

“What do you want Dan? Im sure you didn’t come all this way to share a drink.”

 “We both know why I’m here Ken, we know you are close to finishing your plan, and I have to atleast try and stop you.” Dan said, pouring the ale into two cups and offering one to Ken.

   Ken took it, and held it up for Dan to clink his cup with him. Dan did, and they both drank.

    “Well, that makes sense Dan. If it’s any consolation, I’m sick of this plan. I just want to continue being a mayor. But if I don't go through with this, It's obvious what would happen at this late into the game.”

“Aye. Well, Best of luck to you in this battle to come.”

“You as well Dan.”

     They both finished their drink and stood. They shook each other's hands and turned to return to their respective groups.

     “You done talking to your boyfriend Ken?” Lilith said as he returned.  

  “Pretty much, lets end this so I don't have to keep talking you people.”

  “Agreed.”

     Ken turned back to face Dan and his men whilst pulling the axe off of his back, and held up three fingers and began to count them down.

  “Three.” Davin shifted his shoulders and popped his neck. Abraham cracked his knuckles and smiled.

    “Two.” As Ken said two, Shia Shot an Arrow at one of the archers and Balgam threw his vial into the main mass of the enemy. Davin and Abraham charged. Lilith just laughed.

Ken just sighed, raised his weapon, and charged, figuring there was no point in finishing the count down.