#they can have all sorts of silly little shapes and can look like nearly anything

[struno2841]

Goofy little sketchbook drawings

[monstersdownthepath]

Monster Spotlight: Caine, Digital Ringmaster

CR 13

Chaotic Neutral Medium Construct

The Amazing Digital Circus, ep 1~?

This maniacal overlord of the demiplane known as the Amazing Digital Circus is thankfully restricted to the machine in which it was created, and cannot affect anything outside the machine's shell. Despite this, the alluring and unusual headset connected to this invincible Curiosity & Amusement Device has drawn dozens of souls into the Digital Circus without him needing to do anything; anyone even touching the headset has to make a DC 23 Will save against a compulsion to put it on, and anyone putting it on is physically drawn into the demiplane without a save afforded to them. Anyone who enters the Digital Circus swiftly finds themselves unable to leave, as every measure meant to allow egress was either corrupted beyond usefulness or was never implemented by the Circus' mysterious creators, leaving victims trapped and at the mercy of Caine, the sadistic and insane ringmaster.

... Sort of. Anyone who's been around Caine long enough can tell you that he's far from some heartless monster, but his corrupted programming makes it nearly impossible to reason with him and blinds him to the true suffering he causes with what he views as silly games and fun activities. It doesn't help that anyone trapped in the Circus is sealed inside of a Performer Avatar, a weakened state of being that is nonetheless essentially immortal, recovering from damage to their body within minutes, if not seconds, something Caine is irrefutably convinced means he can send his performers into all sorts of life-threatening and agonizing hazards with little concern, because hey--they can't die! That means they'll be fine no matter what, right? In his mind, if his performers truly hated their situation, they'd simply leave the demiplane.

He is, unfortunately, unaware that they can't and cannot be convinced otherwise, believing that his performers are simply deep in character.

Notably, Performer Avatars recover swiftly from physical damage, but mental damage is something not even Caine can repair, only hope to alleviate with constant distractions. His Digital Demiurge gives him nigh-infinite power within the Circus, able to shape, reshape, or add features to the demiplane itself with just a few hours of concentration (as if using Greater Create Demiplane, though some aspects of the Circus are beyond his ability to change). The same ability allows him to craft adventures for his performers by using Greater Create Mindscape at will, conjuring and populating entire fantastical worlds for his performers to explore with a literal snap of his fingers. Each time he manifests one of these new zones, he also creates a Mindscape Door so performers can actually enter it... But once inside, they often must complete whatever objective he's set in order to leave.

Digital Demiurge also allows Caine to freely teleport both himself and any nearby performers anywhere in the Circus or his mindscape zones without failure, use Clairvoyance/Clairaudience within as a standard action, and use an irresistible Scrying on any of his performers whenever he wishes. Within the Circus, he can see anything, be anywhere, and nothing is beyond his reach, something which causes performers no end to their stress knowing that he can invade their privacy and personal space at any moment. Thankfully, he cannot be or see everywhere at once, and tends to give himself some break times between his activities so the performers have some time to actually unwind from his constant presence... or plot against him.

Attacking Caine directly is inadvisable, putting it lightly. His Caine's Cane doesn't look like the best of weapons at first, being the equivalent of a +3 Club, but it cannot be taken from him, and he can freely shift the enchantments around as a move action to take advantage of any weakness and can attack up to three times a round if he Full-Attacks. Defensively, his Slapstick Antics means he swiftly recovers from just about any damage or debuff leveled against him, shaking them off as if they were mere pranks, and though it allows him to deal nonlethal damage with any of his attacks or spells, he's not incentivized to do so; Performer Avatars have the same ridiculous resilience, so he has no reason to hold back if someone lashes out at him... and with Clown Around Town giving him access to any 3rd level or lower Evocation, Illusion, or Conjuration spell more or less whenever he wants (and any 6th or lower Ev/Il/Con spell 1/day), he can lash out hard. Thankfully, he's more likely to use his at-will Telekinesis to just restrain an attacker before teleporting them to their own room to 'cool down' than actually punish them, brushing off even savage attacks as moments of weakness or stress that they just need a little alone time to get over before role call the next day.

Attacking him is foolish, and even just opposing him can be maddening. Performer Avatars are stuck at level 6 and can rise no higher no matter how many adventures they go on, so Caine's comparative CR and godlike power over the Circus makes him a foe that they have nearly no hope against. Even his Colorful Cast--an endless variety of props, hazards, and monsters he can summon at will--is often too much for most performers, necessitating creative thinking, ample teamwork, and often turning his own tools and weapons against him and his minions to achieve any level of success, however temporary. To truly 'beat' Caine, one must find their way out of the Circus by locating, un-corrupting, and decrypting the Failsafe Files, and that's easier said than done. Just ask the people who've been trapped inside for the last several years... and the dozens of unfortunate Abstracted sealed inside the Circus' cellar.

You can read more about him here.

[springfallendeer]

The Bells -1

I really like @xitsensunmoon's vampire AU boys. So I defiled them. And whored out my OC, Ayala, in the process.

Most likely non-canon to their AU (up to them). I might write more from this setting in the future. But this fic comes out to 7 parts, nearly 21k words.

Next

Part 1: The Feeding

||A look of visible confusion spreads across the woman’s features as she hears it. The soft, gentle chime breaking the relative silence of her surroundings.||

||A bell.||

||Someone is ringing a bell.||

||She doesn’t know who. Not at first. But she hears it. The soft, metallic tune of a crotal bell being shaken about.||

||Time and time again it catches her ear. Each time seemingly singing from a different location. Always nearby. But no matter how she turns about, she never spots whoever it is that is playing the silly little tune.||

||Some part of her chalks it up to paranoia. An escaped dog or a roaming cat must be wandering around nearby. She’s only just beyond the reach of the city. It wasn’t unusual for an animal to make it out here. There were plenty of trees or flowering bushes for them to hide behind. That was what made the park so appealing, after all.||

||Again the bell chimes. This time louder. She finds herself turned about again, her eyes intent on scanning the surrounding scenery in search of whatever it was that had made the noise. But nothing is there. No man or beast lingering in the twilight. Just an empty park.||

||Once more, she hears the bell ring. Even louder this time.||

||Because it's right behind her.||

||Her breath hitches in her throat as she spins herself around once more. Her arm brushes against a cold, unmoving body as she turns around.||

||Wide, alert eyes settle upon the creature that had somehow appeared directly behind her. And it is most definitely a creature.||

||Glowing red eyes lock with hers. Intense and hungry. A wide smile laced with sharp, jagged teeth tugs at its face. A smile which parts somewhat to allow a long, thick tongue to dart out and trace the side of its face.||

||A tremble rolls through her as she stares at the creature. The obviously hungry, predatory creature. For a moment, she can’t bring herself to move. She can only stare at it. This monster of the night. Clad head to toe in attire meant to cartoonishly mimic the nocturnal sky. The only jarring contrast in color being the cape draped over its shoulders. Black. Marked with red streaks and a few stray, golden stripes.||

||Tall and lanky. With limbs that better resembled a mishmash of metal and bone than they did flesh. A face free of features outside of its eyes and mouth; save for the pale, crescent shaped marking that encompassed half of their face.||

||Under less intimidating circumstances, she might have thought this creature stunning. In a cartoon villain sort of way.||

||But this thing was anything but a cartoon villain. It was very real, and it was very, very unnerving. So much so that she can only tremble as a large, skeletal looking hand is lifted to brush against her face.||

||“What pretty eyes you have~” The creature utters, it's - his - voice deep, and laced with amusement.|| ||“So wide and shining~ So... Afraid~” He chuckles, gently tracing his thumb against the skin beneath the woman’s eye.||

||She struggles to find the strength to take a step back as the creature moves closer to her. That same large, skeletal hand slowly drifts back down her face. He caresses her cheek. He traces her jaw.||

||She trembles pathetically as a clawed finger traces her throat.||

||“No need to be afraid, friend~” The creature muses, casually hooking their claws into the neck of her shirt to tug the fabric aside. Her chest begins to heave from panic as they lean down. Surprisingly hot breath rolls against the nape of her neck once the being has moved close enough to claim her as their prey.|| ||“Just a quick pinch, and it’ll all be over~” He chuckles.||

||She doesn’t give him the chance to sink his teeth into her. As soon as the rush of adrenaline flooded her system, she bolted. First by stumbling back. Then by darting back the way she’d come. Up the sidewalk. Keeping to the light of the lamp posts as the steady encroaching darkness activated their protective glow.||

||The bells start up again. Louder and more ominous than ever.||

||No matter how quickly she runs, it's as though she can’t evade them. They never grow quieter. They never grow more distant.||

||One instant, they’re right behind her. The next, she distinctly hears them to one side. Regardless of how she turns to try and evade them, they are without means of escape.||

||She doesn’t even realize that she’s been herded to a more secluded spot. Driven in a specific direction as the creature used the chimes of its decorative bells to distract and alarm her. Until she’s left exhausted.||

||Panting and wheezing, she clutches the metal of the lamp post as she presses her back against it. Lost and confused, she does her best to go silent. She does her best to ignore the pounding of her own heart as she gazes out into the encroaching darkness, trying and failing to spot the creature that had pursued her.||

||The bells have finally gone quiet. Eerily, disturbingly quiet. The only sound to break the silence is the heavy hiss of her throat as her chest heaves.||

||Then a muffled scream as a familiar, skeletal hand covers her mouth.||

||A second arm wraps around to hold her by her torso, trapping her in place even as she thrashes in their hold. The only barrier between them is the metal pole that she had foolishly tried to hide herself.||

||The bells start up again as tears begin to prick her eyes. But the sound chimes from a different source; ringing not from the creature behind her, but from somewhere in the distance.||

||If not for her panic, she might have been inclined to see what it was. But her focus is entirely on trying to squirm out of the embrace of this beast that has apprehended her.||

||Until a second one walks boldly into her line of sight.||

||She goes still again, her only movements being the trembling of her body and the heaving of her chest as she stares at this new creature.||

||The obvious counterpart to the one that had pulled her into their clutches. A gold and yellow face peered down at her. The only features of that face being a sharp toothed smile and a set of pale, blue-gray eyes. The crescent mark is less obvious. A crown of golden rays adorned their head. Their clothing is bright and vibrant, like the radiance of the sun.||

||Their cape is red. A deep, dark red. Decorated with streaks of yellow.||

||An eerie, playful smile tugged at their features as they moved closer to her. A yellow, skeletal hand was brought up to her face. With the touch of a single, clawed finger, she was encouraged to lift her head to better face them.||

||The blue one slowly pulled their hand from her face, exposing her pathetic expression.||

||“P-please!... Please, don-” She began to plead for her life, only to be quickly silenced as the golden one began to shush her.||

||“Shh, shh~ Relax, friend. No one is going to kill you... We’re just hungry.” The golden entity states, their voice velvety soft as they attempt to comfort the woman. They lean down somewhat to lock eyes with her, shushing her as a few stray tears roll down her cheeks.|| ||“Calm down now... That’s it. Don’t worry. You’re safe.” He murmurs, slowly lowering his hand. Just as the blue one had done, he takes to tracing a clawed finger down to the bottom of her throat. Only now, as he tugs the collar of her shirt to the side, she feels not an ounce of fear.||

||Something about those pale eyes has calmed her. Something about their sweet, velvety voice has put her so at ease.||

||He waits for her chest to stop heaving before he leans down to nuzzle the crook of her neck, a soft smile tugging at his features all the while, exposing his pointed teeth.||

||“Good girl~” He murmurs.||

||She can’t help but flinch as the momentary pain hits her.||

||She only feels it for a moment. Just a pinch. A split second of pain, and then the warmth of her blood trickling down her skin. Then the oddly appealing sensation of a tongue lapping at her wounded flesh.||

||For as terrifying as this ordeal should be, she’s unusually calm. Relaxed, even. And she only grows more relaxed as her blood is greedily swallowed by the semi-robotic, golden vampire.||

||She grows so relaxed, in fact, that the blue one has to tighten their hold on her as her legs begin to give way. Their other arm is wrapped around to hook under one of her arms. Their hand settles upon her shoulder.||

||Before long, the golden vampire pulls their teeth free of her flesh.||

||She would have let out a relieved sigh if not for the fact that she felt the sting a second time.||

||The blue one sank their teeth into her next. Rather than reuse the original bite, they sank their teeth into the nearby flesh to create a fresh wound. A wound which allowed fresh blood to flow into their greedy mouth.||

||The blue one was different. Where the golden one had been content to bite once and then suck on the wound, the blue one liked to bite repeatedly. Every few seconds, she would feel that telltale sting of teeth cutting into her throat. Each time, a faint hiss would escape her, followed by a rush of relief.||

||Between the two of them, she lost a lot of blood. Her head grew foggy and her vision became blurry as her life was slowly spilt onto the vampire’s greedy tongue. By the time that the blue one had finished making a meal out of her, she was left so tired and disoriented that she could no longer stand.||

||One of them laughed, though she could not determine which. The steady glow of the lamp post began to irritate her exhausted eyes. As she allowed her eyelids to fall closed, she ignored how her heavy body was jostled about.||

||She struggled to stay awake as her body was readjusted. She felt a pair of arms wrap around to pick her up. The back of her head fell against one arm as the other tucked beneath her knees.||

||Not long after, she felt the breeze slowly roll against her body as she was presumably carried to a new location. But she could not be bothered to panic. The blood-loss induced grogginess mixed with the physical exhaustion of her earlier escape attempt, assuring that she wouldn’t be able to muster a single ounce of defiant energy.||

||The soft singing of the bells resumed as she began to steadily drift off, securely held in the arms of one of the beasts that had nearly drained the life out of her completely.||

||Comfortably held, but likely far from safe, she fell asleep in their embrace. The steady chimes of the bells guiding her into the depths of darkness as her consciousness slowly drifted beyond her means of reach.||

[wrenaspun]

tagged by @princessniitza to answer several questions and tag five people!! Thank you frond 🥰 Let's go:

1. How did you get into writing fanfiction? A fanart blog! After I finished the HP series I was googling it passionately and in so doing found fanart, followed it to a wordpress art blog, and then upon an offhand comment about fanfiction googled 'harry potter fanfiction'. And the rest is history

2. How many fandoms have you written in? 7 that i've published on ao3! I think 9 if we count stuff I've posted elsewhere, and probably a few more if we count stuff I've written but not published

3. How many years have you been writing fanfiction? My first one was published in mid 2013.... 11 years. Good lord

4. Do you read or write more fanfiction? Oh read, for sure. I keep a spreadsheet for both reading and writing -- I'm nearly at 6million words read thus far this year, vs 80k written. A slight disparity !

5. What is one way you’ve improved as a writer? Loool is it cheating to say in every way?? I think if you compared any of my fics now to those of 11 years ago they would simply not be in the same league. But I'll say my command of language, and my ability to communicate emotions more subtly.

6. What’s the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project? Polythene growing tunnels, firewood growing and coppicing techniques, for one fic I read (bits of) the muqaddimah and the safarnama of nasir khusraw... I'm sure there are more but I tend not to end up using much from my more unhinged research holes lmao

7. What’s your favorite type of comment to receive on your work? All of them of course, but the ones that dive into specific lines or story elements they liked are a special gift

8. What’s the most fringe trope/topic you write about? I think amnesia and selkies are the 2 I've returned to across multiple fandoms :')

9. What is the hardest type of story for you to write? The long ones with lots of plot and moving plates, alas! I've been wrestling with the main longfic I'm working on for ages and ages, but we forge on

10. What is the easiest type? I don't know if there's anything that binds them, but there is a type of fic that just comes bubbling up from my id and demands to be written, and those tend to come out relatively quickly and smoothly! 'bathed in light' was one such fic, and 'send me a little word' was another

11. Where do you do your writing? What platform? When? Scrivener! But it's version 1.9 because the update to v3 made everything look different and frightening. And as for when/where it's usually late night, on my couch or in bed

12. What is something you’ve been too nervous/intimidated to write, but would love to write one day? My beloved film reviews fic -- though it is less a case of intimidation and more a case of "but if i want to write fictional film reviews of 5 films that get made about the historical figures King Laurent and King Damianos I have to first sort out what the future film industry looks like and how it developed and did they have a Hays Code also? How did their censorship policies change over time? And when did three-strip technicolor get dropped in favour of eastmancolor, and were there any wars or geopolitical conflicts which shaped the production of contemporaneous films, and is there a 1948 New Artes v. Paramount antitrust case that breaks up the distribution channels and affects the way that independent productions are able to come onto the scene, and and and ----" SO basically you can tell I did film studies. And ALSO what DATES would I use for the speculative future of this secondary world fantasy ?? But I do hope that one day I will power thru my brain's panicked worldbuilding questions and write this fic!!

13. What made you choose your username? I was looking through the Hepcats Jive Talk Dictionary for reasons I no longer remember and saw the entry 'spin a wren = dance with a woman' which I thought was so cute that I made it my ao3 name. Wrenaspun is just a silly play on that :')

tagging without pressure @kybelles @sideraclara @folfar @thevorpalsword @penguinmerchant 🥳🥰

[clavissionary-position]

Emma and the Curious Case of Silvio's XXXXXX

a fancy fanfic (𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦)

TRULY TRULY CURSED SMUTTY CRACK . NSFW . MDNI

T'was but an ordinary dawning upon the coastal abode of the Benitoitian Royal Family. Dolphins procreated with great merriment and vigor in the champagne-like waters surrounding the palace. Fishermen who'd been tossed overboard by neighborhood pirates swam to shore in various stages of amnesia. Crabs slinking out of tide-pools did silly little dances.

But soft, now! For our heroine approaches. Emma shuts the door with a loud jangle after entering, and then skips all Disney-like toward her lover.

The ritzy prince pacing his seaside bedroom stops in his tracks. The distressing sound of dolphins in their erotic busywork echoes off the walls. And as Emma approaches, he turns and says:

"Woman, I have an itch in my balls."

And what an itch it is. A cold sweat clings to the prince, even with the weather approaching rectal temperatures. The itch that possessed his testicles this day could not be assuaged by his hand alone.

Asking Emma to handle it would be too much for him, so he had a ball-scratcher (gilded) prepared for her to use instead of her hand. The handle was ten feet long, because the metal-smiths were too limited by current technology to produce twenty feet of rod. If this was the sort of half-arsed craftsmanship Silvio's investment went toward, he was better off using his coins as tiny coasters for his condoms. A foolish idea, perhaps, but they said the same thing of all visionaries.

Emma clears her throat. "Are you thinking about your condom coasters again?"

"It's a damn good idea," barks Silvio. "Now come here. Not that close. Pick up that rod."

Emma tries to lift 10 feet of gold to little success. She topples under the weight and lands like an anime character at a perfect 180-degree angle.

Fuck, thinks Silvio, fuckishly, as his heart lurches at the thought of injury befalling his precious pearl. He hadn't taken into account Emma's scrawny lady limbs. He'd have to put her to work on one of his ships to build up muscle mass so that she can eventually wield the ball-scratcher and save Silvio from his agony.

Except he doesn't have that kind of time, dammit!

His gaze darts around the room. Surely there is something else she can use to—aha!

"Woman." He appraises her. "Are you okay?"

"I think my arm's broken but—"

"Perfect. Grab that bed post."

"It's attached to your bed."

"You'll never know unless you try."

Emma makes a ??? expression before Disney-ing over to his bed. "How do you want me to do this?"

Silvio opera-singer-moans as the itch crests into a firey inferno in his pants. "I don't care how you do it, just do it."

Emma stares blankly. "That doesn't really help."

"Shuddup. And hurry. Before it's too late!" He falls to his knees and stares up at the ceiling with glassy eyes. "Hurry."

Emma rolls her eyes. "Drama Queen. Why don't you take the bed post off yourself?"

Silvio points at himself emphatically without looking away from the ceiling. "Do I look to be in any shape to do that?"

Finally Emma sighs and walks over to stand above him. "Hump my leg."

Silvio nearly snaps his neck with how fast he turns to look at her. "What?"

"Hump my leg until the itch goes away." Emma's eyes are dark with conviction and a little something else.

"I ain't a fucking dog!"

"Aren't you tho?"

Silvio growls, and it sounds very dog-like. "Do you think you can handle it?"

"I can handle your regular thrusts just fine. I don't see how this would be anything different." Oh, but the way her lashes flutter around her salacious gaze. If only those dolphins outside would stop with their coital carnage so Silvio can enjoy this moment. If only his balls would cease their torment.

"Don't say I didn't warn you." And before Emma can react, he takes her in his arms, straddles her thigh, shoves his tongue down her throat, and begins heartily, yo-ho-ho-ily rocking his hips so as to erase the entire concept of an itch from the surface of his sperm-repositories.

"Oh my... Oh my god... Si... Sil..." Emma can barely get a word out between the excavation being conducted inside her mouth and the fire-starting friction upon her thigh.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, breath ragged. He wants to say it again, parts his lips as if he might, but he's not the type of man who can say it more than once. Instead his lips devour her again and again as she wraps one arm around his neck. And the other around his back to soothe him despite the violent motions of his body.

At some point the itch turns into that sacred, sinful need for release. The warm pumping sensation in his groin builds to a height he's never once experienced before this. And all because he's humping his woman like a dog.

Oh for the love of--is there any way to turn those goddamn dolphins off!?

Unable to cross the edge into rapture, Silvio slowly eases himself to a stop and drops limp and annoyed onto his bed, Emma still wrapped in his arms.

Emma's breathing is hot and chaotic in his ears, but at least he can't hear those nasty ocean bastards anymore. Damn, she must be just as frustrated as he is. The least he can do is help her out, right?

He turns his face and to his surprise Emma kisses him first. Then pulls away just as quick. "Sorry."

"Idiot." Silvio grabs the back of her head and crushes their faces together again. His other hand searches her out between her legs. As her wetness coats his fingers, he finds himself overcome with a strange kind of peace. The kind that could spur any man into poetry.

Silvio tries.

Roses are red My color is blue Condoms need coasters It's so fucking true

Genius.

Emma whimpers into his wet kisses. "Are you... thinking... about those... stupid... coasters right... now!?"

Silvio smiles. "I'm always thinking about those coasters."

The end.

Am I allowed to say that xxsycamore's brilliant fic inspired me? Because it did? But also this started off as a crack fic about Emma being obsessed with Silvio's pubes. It's late. I should go to sleep.

[moe-broey]

Since we're closing in on the end of the current book pretty soon, any thoughts about what direction FEH might go next? Or even thoughts on this book overall now that we're nearly completing it?

OHH..... when it comes to FEH's plotlines I am very much just along for the ride LMFAO. I know a lot of it is based in mythology (or at very least is inspired by it!), so I bet you Could piece together Something. Or even if you keep track of the teasers (BUT ALSO. THEY HAVEN'T EVEN DONE ANYTHING YET....... with that one teaser where Lif, Triandra and Plumeria are joining forces, the girls' objective to revive Freyja... I think Loki was there too? It's been a while!) (Actually. Now that I think about it. Where even DID that teaser go. Both Lif's and the fairies TT stories are fairly separate from each other. 🤔)

I do always get a little anxious near the end of a Book LMFAO, to the point where I don't look at it for a while (I think I'm one chapter behind rn). It's like... I generally don't have a lot of faith in the writers bc while they CAN hit really well, sometimes. They miss SO hard. And then there is So Much happening at the climax.... I'm so worried about how everything is gonna be tied up and resolved..... how are they gonna pull it all together? CAN they???? So scared.....

I've def said it before but I do think being a long time Sonic fan has primed me for this sort of thing LMFAO, even broadly across the franchise. Always approaching stories in good faith, always down to have fun even if it's absurd or corny or Odd Decisions Were Made or they had a REALLY GOOD CONCEPT but they dropped the ball somewhere along the way. I DEEEF approach FEH stories this way. And sometimes you are really pleasantly surprised!!!!

I think that's the relationship I ended up having with Book 7!! It can be tough for me when Yoshiku is the artist on board, since I am really not a fan of their work (sorry...). But I absolutely loved the designs of the FEH ocs this Book. Major test of faith was the "Please have a child with me" moment LMFAOOO NEARLY IRRECOVERABLE if I wasn't naturally inclined to Get Silly about it (What Is The Funniest Direction I Can Take With This In My Mind LMFAO).

BUT ALSO.... I JUST? Ended up REALLY loving Seidr as a character. I'm ABSOLUTELY in love with how each self of her's, while some bare a resemblance, none of them look like copies of each other (just sized up or down). Like even beyond my personal pet peeve of that, being trans/having A Lot of different looks in dif periods of my life. I ESPP appreciate the fact that Gullveig looks SO different from Seidr, esp as a trans person actually... cause even if you aren't trans, sometimes a new personal development will occur within you, maybe good, maybe bad, and it changes you. Which may also change how you present yourself! ALSO, the fact that Heidr had a completely different hairstyle, a slightly different body type (actually. Looking at her art I think I just hallucinated that LMFAOO but in my mind's eye I like to imagine Seidr's body shape changes/puts on more weight over time 🫡). Like they look similar enough that, yeah, they're sisters! But to me, Different Enough that the plot twist with Heidr ABSOLUTELY got me. I did NOT fucking see that coming and it absolutely shook me up 😨 (BUT ALSO. MAYBE IT WAS OBVIOUS. I DON'T KNOW ACTUALLY. BECAUSE I CAN BE SUUUCH A GULLIBLE AUDIENCE MEMBER TOO LMFAOOOO)

LIKE. I did NOT make the connection that Lif was Alfonse until like halfway into the fuckinh plot like RIGHT before it was revealed. LIKE. I am SO TRUSTING and SO HEAD EMPTY sometimes for fucking real I thought "Oh...! He Does kind of look like Alfonse... that's really cute, considering he's his ancestor and all! :)" HSKSHKSHSJ........ my man........ 🧍

At very least. I knew from the start that Bruno was Zacharias. At very fucking least I had that going for me 🫡

[erabundus]

@vixlenxe &&. said... "Ren!" It's a familiar voice that calls out to the Wanderer, familiar because it's his own. In typical Zero fashion, he's leaning against a tree near by, & as soon as ren fixes his gaze on him, he gestures his 'twin' to come closer with a wave of his hand.

Without trying to dwell on it too much, once close enough, Zero holds out one of his hands, he's holding something. Some sort of pendent is seems? It has an obvious lotus shape too it, & a orange stone embedded in it, amber maybe? Difficult to tell at a glance.

"Here." He says, showing he is giving it to Ren, not just showing it to him. "Don't think too much about it, just something for the stupid holiday... & to show you're your own individual." As much as he says the two of them are doublegangers or twins, it quite obvious their not complete copies of each other. Ren is his own man, & Zero couldn't be happier for him truly. "You're making your own path, it should be honored with something."

the  cold  doesn't  bother  him  —  or  at  least,  certainly  not  to  a  degree  it  would  a  (  comparatively  fragile  )  mortal.  even  so,  ren  takes  no  joy  in  trudging  through  the  snow.  his  mind  is  already  hard  at  work  conjuring  self-indulgent  fantasies  of  warm  drinks  and  where  to  find  them.  tea. cider. at this point, he'll even accept some manner of disgustingly sweet and festive swill. it's  as  a  direct  result,  he  nearly  walks right  by  zero  —  or  would  have,  had  that  all  too  familiar  voice  not  caught  his  ATTENTION  first.

ren lifts his head,  a  look  of  confusion  lighting  up  doll-like  features  before  they're  swiftly  hidden  behind  his  hat.  he's  clearly  been  waiting  for  him  —  which  can  be  either  a  very  good  or  very  bad  thing.  the  wanderer  supposes  there's  only  one  way  to  find  out,  and  makes  his  way  over  to  the  tree.

❝  what  are ...  ❞  is  all  he  manages  to  get  out  before  zero  extends  a  hand.  ren  blinks  quizzically  at  the  pendant  resting  in  his  palm  —  and  his  storm-cloud  gaze  flicks  to  his  reflection's  face  as  if  to  silently  QUESTION  its  purpose.  he  isn't  used  to  being  gifts  —  at  all,  to  be  completely  honest.  (  even  the  insistence  with  which  others  are  quick  to  treat  him  like  a  PERSON  feels  unfamiliar.  )  as  a  result,  it  takes  the  wanderer  a  moment  to  realize  it's  for  him  —  even  after  zero  practically  spells  as  much  out.  ❝  oh.  ❞   feeling  a  bit  lost,  ren  tentatively  ( instinctively ) wraps  his  fingers  around  the  pendant  and  holds  it  up  to  his  face  to  inspect.

... a lotus. it really must be meant for him.

it's  rare  for  the  wanderer  to  find  himself  so  completely  devoid  of  anything  to  say.  (  usually  he  can  conjure  up  some  kind  of  withering  comment  or  dry  little  quip.  )  instead,  he  can  only  stare.  feeling  the  cool  metal  edges,  the  smoothness  of  the  gem,  testing  its  weight  in  his  palm.  it's  for  him.  it's  his.

ren  suddenly  gives  a  little  laugh  and  presses  the  pendant  to  his  chest.  he  doesn't  store  it  away;  he's  just  content  to  hold  it  there.  ❝  haha ...  hahaha!  are  you  getting  SOFT?  ❞  he's  wearing  a  silly  little  grin  that's  testament  to  his  own  hypocrisy.  ❝  ...  thank  you.  i think it's ...  a  fitting  treasure.  to  commemorate the start of  a  new  path.  ❞

[thecryptidcottage]

 @urbnlgnds​.

      ↳ ft. dom + ( muse up to player ) !         at the local supermarket

          of all the situations dom has ever found himself in that have left him feeling wildly out of his depth ( and okay, admittedly, there have been several ) surely this must be the one to take the cake. and it’s not that he’s got any sort of reservation about it ― he doesn’t, he’d like to make that very clear ― or that it makes him feel awkward or uncomfortable, even. no, he hasn’t a care in the world about the actual purchase, it’s just that... well, to be frank, dom has absolutely no idea what he’s meant to be looking for. and it’s not as if he can ask ; all of this is just as new to charlie as it is to him, and arguably infinitely worse. no, questions are... they’re out of the question. so if he looks a little lost as he stands in the middle of the personal care and hygiene aisle, staring blankly at a wall of boxes branded with different sizes and shapes and absorbancies, you’ll have to forgive him. it makes him feel a bit silly, actually, that he’s made it through nearly forty-five years of life without learning the difference between a a towelette and a tampon or why anything that’s meant to go in your pants might require a pair of wings. he’s almost embarrassed to admit to his own ignorance, ready to duck head and tuck tail and head home empty-handed. but he knows he can’t. there’s not a world in which dom can leave this store with nothing ― charlie needs him to figure it out. he needs to figure it out.

          dragging a hand over his face as the reality of the situation sets in, dom sighs, glancing down the aisle. it’s empty, save for one other person. and they’re heading his way. it’s now or never. ❝ excuse me, i, uh ― hi, ❞ he manages to spit out, lifting a hand in a half-wave to catch their attention. ❝ sorry, i don’t ― i’m not sure how to ask this except to just get on with it, so, um ― could you, uh, would you mind helping me for just a moment ? ❞

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Rolling Turtle

Debut: Kirby’s Adventure

If you are a Kirby Fan, you may already know what this is all about! Rolling Turtle is sort of a laughingstock. A poor shmuck. It is just not Rolling Turtle’s day. It has not been for nearly 30 years, and probably never will be again. Sorry!

I don’t think Rolling Turtle did anything wrong. It is just a funny creature. A goofy turtle, and even sillier in the sprite, where it is oh so round, its shell making up most of its shape! The buck teeth are silly, too, and make me think of a turtle’s egg tooth, which I like to think about. Rolling Turtle is capable of rolling, and it rolls indeed. It rolls to, and even fro! It can grab Kirby and roll back and forth, or it can even throw little projectiles!

The projectiles are, these! What are they? Well...

Babies! Little Rolling Turtles! These are so funny. I know that’s PROBABLY not just one eye, and is probably meant to be a shine effect, but it looks so much like just one eye. They easily COULD have put two little eyes there!

See? Easy. Now I kind of want to think that is one eye, actually. Anyway, Rolling Turtle throws its own babies as an attack which is certainly nothing new for video game enemies, and nothing shocking for the Kirby series, occurring with other mid-bosses in this very game, who are doing just fine today. This could not have been Rolling Turtle’s crime. Don’t worry. I will get to Rolling Turtle’s ambiguous crime.

While not criminal, this room in Kirby’s Adventure is certainly infamous! An optional Rolling Turtle confrontation in an extremely basic square room, but with some water covering the ground, making moving quite inconvenient. Keep in mind that this is optional, though. You’re the one who decides whether to barge in and challenge Rolling Turtle. Maybe this is even its house! Maybe it sleeps in this water. Maybe it sleeps with the fishes. Okay, now for the main thing!

There have been a few enemies in the Kirby series who have been replaced in remakes by new enemies that fulfill the same role. These all have reasonable enough reasons, I think. Bounder probably looked too much like a weird human infant, so it was replaced by Gip, the winged pig blob. Togezo was very similar to Spiny, and nearly IDENTICAL to an enemy from Gimmick!, and was replaced by Needlous, the spiky larva (who also happens to strongly resemble a Gimmick! enemy!). Capsule J looked a whole lot like the title character of Konami’s Twinbee series, so it was replaced by Capsule J2 (who was later replaced by Capsule J3, just to keep up tradition). These all make sense! But there’s someone else who was replaced.

That’s right! Rolling Turtle was replaced by Phan Phan, a spherical elephant who behaves identically, and throws apples instead of turtles! This change I don’t get. What was wrong with Rolling Turtle? I don’t think anything! I don’t have anything against Phan Phan, but I don’t have anything against Rolling Turtle, either. Poor creature. Erased from history. Sleeping with the fishes. And by that I mean, the fishes from Dream Land 1 who were also erased! But, like with that case, I have a theory.

This replacement occurred in Nightmare in Dream Land, the remake of Kirby’s Adventure. This game was released close to the time of Right Back At Ya, the Kirby anime, and that was a pretty big thing for the series! The American commercial is in the anime style, and is pretty stupid. Look at this. Kracko is so small. Chilly is so large. Bugzzy does not use weapons in any of the games. Chef Kawasaki is not even in this game at all! Not that I don’t love seeing him, but this is false advertising!

I bring this all up because Phan Phan appears in the anime, mainly just for one episode, where it befriends Kirby and eats apples. Maybe Phan Phan was originally made for the anime first, and added to the game as a bit of a reference/cross promotion? It would certainly explain the game version’s throwing of apples, which seem like a weird choice of projectile for an elephant.

Anyway, that is the story of Rolling Turtle, who was taken from us too soon. I don’t feel anything too strongly toward Rolling Turtle as a design or character, but did it really deserve this? It didn’t do anything bad. Babies as weapons is fine. But alas. I make this exact joke once more.

[quindolyn]

hi hi i have a req- remus and/or sirius where the reader has like bigger boobs w like stretch marks and stuff (bc theyre natural!!) and shes insecure ab them so the boy(s) make her feel better

Stripes || Wolfstar

A/N: I am not particularly fond of this piece all that much but it is what it is. I tried not to mention breast size too much because I know not everyone has big tits and I want as many people as possible to resonate with my work. Tits of all shapes and sizes can have stretch marks, they are completely natural and beautiful.

Warnings: smoking, it's not too too smutty I'd call it more fluffy smut, tit sucking, mentions of love bites, all acts are consensual and there is an established safe word

Word Count: 1,928

“We could go again,” Sirius offers as he lights his cigarette, leaning up against the headboard, guiding the fag to his lips he inhales deeply and you can’t help but be mesmerized as you watch his lips wrap around it.

Pink and soft, they're swollen from the night's previous activities, thinking about how they got that way sends a shiver down your spine, do yours look the same? Exhaling, you watch the smoke curl out his nose before dissipating into the air.

“Don’t know Pads, you think you could get it up again?” Remus stretches to reach his wand on the bedside table quickly and silently spelling you all clean.

Grey eyes flash with annoyance as he lifts the cigarette back up to his lips, though you must’ve watched him smoke hundreds of times you still can’t manage to tear your eyes away.

Maybe it's the way his fingers manipulate the small object as he plays with it absentmindedly that draws you in, the joints and muscles in his hand shifting under pale skin which looks almost as soft as it actually is.

Every now and again he’ll catch you staring at him, like now for example. His eyes flicker downwards finding your optics already fixed on him, “You want a hit Princess?” He raises his eyebrow, gesturing with the hand holding the smoke.

You nod your head, it’s not every day you’re included in their little smoke breaks post coitus, “Please.”

“Please,” Sirius mocks you as he leans down to hold the cigarette to your lips. You barely have the chance to taste the tobacco before it's being pulled away, this time to your right where Remus takes his time enjoying his smoke.

You can’t help but whine as it departs your lips and you’re met by the shit eating grin on Sirius’ face, clearly taking pleasure in teasing you so mercilessly.

“No whining Princess, smoking isn’t good for pretty girls is it?” Letting his hand cup the side of your face his thumb runs along the soft cushion of your bottom lip, applying just enough pressure to tease you.

In your peripheral vision you catch the cig being handed over your head, exchanging between the two boys as you nod your head once more.

“Good girl,” He coos, before taking another hit.

As the smoke leaves his nostrils he’s dipping down to find your lips. He tastes of smoke and something about it coming from his lips makes it all the more sweet, it’s probably better than the real thing.

It’s intensified as his tongue delves into your mouth, you can practically feel the smoke in your lungs, you’ve never been a match for him and simply let your tongue be manipulated by his before he pulls back, connecting the two of you with a strand of saliva that when it breaks falls onto the side of your face.

“Messy girl,” He murmurs, smug smirk on his lips, as he wipes away the mess, in reality his efforts only work to smear the spit on your cheek rather than clean it up.

“So what do you think baby?” Remus asks, sitting up and pulling you with him so you’re both upright, “You wanna try and go again?”

“I don’t know Rem, you think Siri can get it back up or is my wrist gonna cramp trying to get him hard?”

“You two are cruel,” No matter how hard he tries to hide it you can see the slight smile pulling upwards at his lips, “You’re even hiding your titties from me, mean.”

He gestures towards your chest, he’s right, you’d subconsciously clutched the sheet to your chest, crossing your arms to keep it in place and your breasts covered.

Heat rushes to your cheeks as the realization dawns upon you, it wasn’t that you were intentionally guarding them from either boy but you realize that that is how it looks.

“No it's not that Siri I just, I usually keep them covered. They’re… they’re… “ You stumble over your words, only increasing your embarrassment.

“They’re what puppy?” Remus asks, lightly brushing your hair behind your ear so that he has access to your temple, smearing his lips across the soft skin.

“I don’t know,” As you grow shy your voice drops to a mere mumble, “They’ve got all sorts of marks on them.”

This proves worrisome enough for Sirius to set down his fag, letting it sit in the ashtray on the nightstand.

“You mean stretch marks Princess?”

You try your best not to cringe at those words, stretch marks. It's not a dirty word, somewhere inside you, you know that but that has never stopped you from being insecure by them. Deliberately choosing tops that side the ones that sprout from the tops, near your under arm before traveling down the curvature of your tit. Making sure your lingerie always has some sort of extra covering where they’re most visible.

You feel Remus’ hold on you tighten from behind at your pained silence, it's telling enough.

“Just don’t like them.”

Your words have Sirius climbing closer to you, throwing your legs around his hips so the two of you can sit face to face while Remus holds you from behind.

“May we see them, Puppy?” Remus’ elegant fingertips dance along the top of the sheet which resides just a few inches below your collarbone. You shiver at his dainty touch, his fingers are light as feathers, slowly coaxing you into trusting them with this.

“It’s okay,” Sirius’ hand delicately grasps your knee over the soft sheet, “Wanna see our pretty girls but it's alright if you need a moment puppy.”

“No, s’okay.”

Sirius gives you a small smile that only grows as you drop the sheet, letting it pool at your waist.

He spares you a glance before slowly extending his arm, giving you time to tell him to stop or pull the sheet back up, and even though you want to do both those things and more you love Siri. You love Rem. And you know that they’ll be gentle and patient with you.

So instead you steel yourself for his touch relaxing as you feel Remus’ sizable hands wrap around your waist, resting on your tummy.

Your shoulders bunch back up as the tips of Sirius’ fingers,  nails having been painted black just a few hours ago. His touch is steady as he finds a particularly predominant mark tracing along the curve of your tit.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous (Y/N), can’t believe I get to touch you.”

“You’re silly Siri.”

“Not silly, you’re just fucking breathtaking. You got the nicest tits.”

“Just all marked up,” You shrug your shoulders, Remus takes the opportunity to smooth his chapped lips along your joint.

“No,” Remus contradicts, “They’re marked up when we sink our teeth into them and leave pretty bruises all over them,” His hands travel from your waist to explore your tit before stopping on the top of your left one where he remembers having sucked rather fervently just an hour before, “Like right here.”

His pressing down on the flesh pulls a squeak from you as a shock of pain shoots up your spine, leaving your body tingly and the specific spot where his fingers rest pulsing.

“These,” He continues, dragging his fingers over the small indents in your skin, “Are your stripes.”

Sirius leans down, capturing your nipple in his mouth as his hands go to support the weight of your breast. The angle’s a bit awkward but it seems to do little, if anything, to discourage him.

Gently capturing your nipple with his teeth he sucks harder, nuzzling at your chest as he does so. The pleasure that you derive from such a simple act has your head falling back onto the solidity of Remus’ shoulder, pulling whimpers from your throat as you jutt your chest out.

“So fucking good,” Sirius growls as he regretably lets go of your titty, “Pretty nipples,” He accentuates his point by twisting them each between his fingers, “Pretty stripes.”

Leaning down he drags his tongue along one of your stretch marks, beginning in the valley between your breasts before extending upwards.

“They’re completely natural, Puppy,” Remus’ voice is subdued as he runs his hands up and down your waist, “Lots of people have them on their tits, Siri and I have them in other places too.”

“S different on you , Remmy,” You try to explain, “You two are perfect.”

“Does it bother you when we see them during sex baby?” He asks with genuine curiosity in his voice, the thought of making you uncomfortable when you’re so open and vulnerable leaving his stomach twisting.

“Not always, no,” He remains silent, urging you to continue, “You make me feel beautiful Rem, both of you, I just can’t help but not like them, don’t like the way they look, or the way they feel.”

You hear him suck in a deep breath and you can practically hear the gears in his mind turning as he contemplates just what to say.

His hands move to hold both sides of your face in his palms as his forehead falls to rest against yours.

“Let us show you how beautiful your tits are, will you let us do that?”

“You don’t have to-”

Sirius cuts you off, releasing your tit from his mouth, “We want to (Y/N), let us,” He dips his head back down, delicately kissing the top of one of your breasts, “Please.”

He murmurs the simple, one syllable, word against your skin, the sensation sending shivers through your body. He rolls your hardened nipples between his fingers, it's nearly enough to have you mewling as you kneel at his feet. Maybe another time.

Before you can register what’s happening, strong hands are softly pushing you back so that you’re laying down on the bed.

You feel the steady weight of your breasts bouncing on your chest before they’re being grasped by hands that just by touch you recognize as Remus’. His thumbs run along the insides of your breasts where more faded lines reside, creating swirling patterns that Remus seems to thoroughly enjoy.

“You know why you got these right?” Sirius questions, raising his brow.

You shake your head.

“Because you got big fucking tits Princess, look at them!” Smoothly he replaces Remus’ hands with his own, letting their weight settle in his hands, “Bigger than my hands, bigger than Rem’s, they’re fucking gorgeous.”

He drops onto his bum as he reaches over you to pick up his fag, raising it to his lips as his eyes fixate on your bare tits, a wicked smirk on his lips. Instead of feeling uncomfortable under his eyes the feeling is something equivalent to the sun’s rays shining on you, warming you all the way down to your core.

You can’t help but smile at the sincerity in his voice, the absolution with which he speaks pulling at your heart strings. How did you get so lucky as to deserve his love? Though he’s not as chatty you know Remus believes every word out of Sirius’ mouth, tenderly he takes your hand in his, absentmindedly playing with your fingers while your two hands rest in his lap.

“It’s just hard to believe you guys sometimes, m’your girlfriend, you gotta be nice to me.”

Gently Remus guides your hand to his crotch, you’re met by his aching cock which you’re just now realizing is standing fully erect, aching, weeping red tip smearing precum against his lean belly.

“Believe us now?”

tag list: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @amourtentiaa @kittykylax @superbturtlemakerathlete @oliviashea05 @pinkandblueblurbs @dracofknmalfoy @itsmentalillness @zzzfour @gubleryum @advictedtohim @marauderswhore07 @st0nesnglitter @priii @miraclesoflove @shadesofvelma @ashlovesthemarauders @artemis1orion @skaratjung @ava-brooke-blog1 @fairyprettygirly @padfootswife @roonilwazlibswhore @swearingsolemnly @jamespotterslover @lolooo22 @adrianscumslut @jeannelupinblack @wh0reforthemarauders @myalupinblack @ashesandstars @remugoodgirl @planet-wolfstar @saintlike78 @i-love-scott-mccall @cedricisnotdead @pretty-pop-princess-hs  @sunshinexweasley  @saggyb1lls @trashyvicks @sprucewoodlover @slut4drvc0 @1-800-amortentia

[serendipity-writes]

Boys Will Be Boys (That's the Way That This Thing Goes)

Written for Harringrove Week July 2022! No prompt, just silliness

Fics for this event: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Rated Gen, 2.2k

Summary:

“Isn’t it strange, how they get along so well now?” Martha whispers to the group one day as Steve takes up his new usual position by Billy’s side. “I thought they were at each other’s throats.”

Karen hums in agreement. She’s seen Steve around; it’s nice that he’s making more friends his age, considering how much time he spends with all the kids. Why it has to be Billy, she doesn’t know, but she supposes it’s not her place to make value judgements on that sort of thing.

read on ao3

--

Karen Wheeler doesn’t spend an inordinate amount of time at the Hawkins community pool. It’s just that it’s so hot in the summer, and there really isn’t much to do in Hawkins at any given time. So unless she wants to be slow-roasted in her own house, which isn’t particularly appealing, her only option is the pool.

The presence of a certain… attractive young lifeguard is just a lucky bonus.

The other one, Heather, Karen thinks, uncrosses her legs and hops down from the chair. “Ladies,” Karen murmurs, because it’s time. She hears the faint rustling and muted whispers that come with her friends adjusting themselves for the main event, but she keeps her eyes glued to the door Heather disappeared through.

Sure enough, he emerges mere moments later, toned arms and bronzed chest sparkling in the midday sun like a Greek god. He strides out onto the concrete, pausing on his way to the chair like does every day.

“Hello, ladies,” he says, the low rumble of his voice entirely too smooth and sultry for their location.

“Hi Billy,” they chorus back. He grins at them, all teeth and charm, nearly blinding in the sunlight.

“You’re looking hot today,” he tells them. “Remember to stay cool out here.” It would be an innocent enough comment, if not for the look in his eyes.

Karen swears he’s staring straight at her as he winks and walks away.

The rest of her “coven of wine moms,” as Nancy so elegantly describes them, titter behind her, but she doesn’t bother to engage. Every once in a while, Billy will toss a smile her way.

Yes, the pool is the place to be.

* * *

That Tuesday is shaping up to be a real scorcher. Ted barely blinks an eye when Karen tells him she’s headed to the pool. Bitterness rises in her chest like bile for a moment before she puts it out of her mind. She’s got bigger, better things to focus on.

She times her arrival perfectly, having just settled in when Heather’s shift ends. Billy takes her place as usual, with his customary greeting to Karen and her friends. He looks so relaxed up on the lifeguard’s chair, like he knows he can handle anything that’s thrown his way. Something about that easy confidence makes Karen hot under the collar, so she settles back against her pool chair, magazine held up in front of her face so she can watch Billy over the edge of it.

About half an hour later, something strange happens. Namely, Billy shadows his eyes with his hand, squints into the sun, and shouts, “Harrington! To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Karen looks toward the gate to the pool, where Steve Harrington has appeared with five children in tow. One of them is hers, she realizes as Mike elbows Will’s arm and leans close to whisper into his ear. Dustin and Lucas are there too, as well as a redheaded girl Karen vaguely recognizes as Billy’s sister.

She turns back to Billy, a little wary. His voice was laced with a challenge, and everyone in Hawkins has heard the rumors about their fight last November. Karen hadn’t had the misfortune to see the aftermath herself, but from what little she’d picked up from her kids, it wasn’t pretty.

But Billy doesn’t seem like he’s going to get up from his perch, and Steve doesn’t look particularly threatened either.

“The brats wanted to come to the pool,” he calls back, because they’re still at opposite ends of it, “and I had the day off. So, you know, here I am.” He says it with the kind of weariness that Karen associates with parenting preteens, a weariness she knows well. Steve’s turned into a good kid.

“Lucky you,” Billy sneers. Steve’s too far away for Karen to really see his expression, but she’d put money on him rolling his eyes so hard he sees his brain.

He ignores Billy after that, turning to the children and speaking to them softly before letting them free. He doesn’t swim himself, just takes a seat in a chair across the way from Karen, fully shaded by an umbrella, and slides a pair of sunglasses over his eyes. After a few minutes, Karen’s pretty sure he’s asleep.

Billy dons sunglasses as well, and doesn’t flash her a single grin until Steve’s gone.

* * *

It becomes something of a regular occurrence after that, Steve showing up with a varying number of other people’s children a couple of days a week. Usually he claims a chair and immediately passes out on it, although sometimes he brings a notebook along and spends hours with his head bent over the pages, scribbling away like he’ll die if he stops. And once or twice, he arrives in swim trunks and slathers more sunscreen on himself than Karen makes Mike wear, which is really saying something. Somehow, he still comes out the other side looking mildly burned.

Whenever Steve is there, it’s like Billy forgets Karen even exists.

* * *

Maybe three weeks into this, Billy calls Steve out like he always does, but instead of shooting some thinly veiled aggression his way and leaving him be, he beckons Steve over. The hesitation in Steve’s movements is painfully obvious, but he walks over to the lifeguard’s chair anyway, coming to stand under the umbrella. Billy starts talking to him, quietly now that they aren’t separated by a hundred feet of splashing water and screaming children. With a sigh, Karen drops her eyes to her Cosmo and actually reads it for the first time in her life. When she glances up about an hour later, Steve is just walking away from the chair, Billy staring after him as he goes.

He doesn’t come by the next three days, and Billy’s back to being his usual charming self.

* * *

The next time Steve shows up, he’s brought someone his age in addition to the ever-present children. She’s somewhat tall, with sandy brown hair and a slightly awkward gait. Karen can tell just by her posture that she’s not thrilled about being here. She pulls Steve aside to talk to him while the kids gleefully jump in the water, swatting him gently on the shoulder when he says something she evidently doesn’t like. But then she shakes her head and flaps a hand at him, collapsing into a chair when he walks away. Karen hasn’t heard anything from Nancy about Steve dating someone new, but she thinks they make a nice couple.

The redheaded girl seems to like her too, taking the chair next to her rather than joining the boys in the pool. The older girl ruffles her hair like Nancy used to do to Mike when he was younger. It’s cute.

Steve, strangely enough, heads straight for Billy. He crosses his arms over his chest, obviously more at ease than the last time they had spoken. Karen’s all for mending bridges, but she has to admit it’s a bit unexpected.

* * *

Billy starts keeping a closer eye on the gate. Karen only knows because she still keeps a close eye on him, like Ted keeps a close eye on his newspaper.

* * *

“Isn’t it strange, how they get along so well now?” Martha whispers to the group one day as Steve takes up his new usual position by Billy’s side. “I thought they were at each other’s throats.”

Karen hums in agreement. She’s seen Steve around; it’s nice that he’s making more friends his age, considering how much time he spends with all the kids. Why it has to be Billy, she doesn’t know, but she supposes it’s not her place to make value judgements on that sort of thing.

* * *

Billy absolutely roars with raucous laughter, slapping his leg and drawing every eye in the pool to him. “Full of surprises, Harrington!” he shouts, loud enough for the Carsons down the road to hear him. “Who knew!”

Next to him, leaning against the arm of the lifeguard’s chair, Steve is smiling like he’s holding back his own mirth. Karen rolls her eyes. Boys.

* * *

On the rare occasion that Steve is off doing something else, Billy’s gaze follows him around the pool.

* * *

Billy and Steve are sharing a cigarette by the end of the pool.

Billy smokes all the time, despite the No Smoking signs posted everywhere. But he’s the kind of guy who will chew out anyone else trying to light up with his cigarette still dangling from his lip. It’s alluring, his flagrant disregard for the rules combined with the obvious double standard.

But now, Karen thinks as she watches Billy hand the cigarette to Steve, watches Steve take a long drag before passing it back, that double standard seems to extend to the other boy.

It’s almost funny, when Billy yells “Hey!” and points threateningly at a kid that probably went to school with them. He’s got his lighter halfway to the cigarette held between his teeth, frozen with confusion rather than fear. “Can you not fucking read?” Billy shouts, gesturing with the hand holding his own cigarette at the sign on the fence just behind the offender.

“But—you—” the kid starts, pointing back at Billy, then at Steve, who plucks the cigarette from Billy’s fingers and inhales deeply, blowing the smoke out with a smug smile. “Him—”

“Ah,” Billy cuts him off. “Put it away. Rules are rules.”

The other kid looks like he’s going to keep protesting for a moment before the fight drains out of him and he shoves his hands in his pockets, kicking rocks as he flees with his tail between his legs. Billy and Steve share a look before cracking up silently into their fists, Billy leaning dramatically against the back of his seat and Steve nearly bent double.

Steve’s girlfriend, who’s been accompanying him to the pool more often recently, rolls her eyes with her whole body even while sitting. Karen is inclined to agree.

* * *

Billy hasn’t looked her way in days. It’s starting to feel like she’s back in her own home.

* * *

Heather slides down from the lifeguard’s chair to the excitement of every woman at the pool. Karen positions herself carefully on her pool chair, casually showing off the new bathing suit she bought at the mall yesterday. Ted hadn’t said anything that morning, of course, but Billy’s always been very observant and liberal with his praise. It’s harmless, really. Just a bit of an ego boost.

Except Heather leaves the locker room with her things and Billy still hasn’t come out to take his station. Which, truthfully, is surprising, because whatever else one might say about his professional demeanor, Billy is always punctual.

Two minutes pass, then five, and the concerned whispers around her are just starting to grate when she feels a touch at her shoulder. When she turns, Mike is standing next to her, dripping wet and shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“Hey Mom,” he starts, returning her slightly confused smile. “Can I have some money, please? Will and I want popsicles.”

“Of course, sweetie,” she replies, reaching into her bag to pull out a couple of neatly folded dollar bills. “Is Steve here with you?”

Mike shrugs, taking the offered money. “Yeah, he brought us here, but I don’t know where he went. Thanks!” He runs off before she can question him further, looping his arm over Will’s shoulders as they walk to the concession stand. There’s still no lifeguard on duty.

“All right, ladies,” Karen says, unfolding herself from the chair and standing up. “I think it’s about time for someone to check up on this public safety violation.” She makes for the locker rooms before the rest of the women have a chance to respond. At the very least, that bitch Doris would try to convince them to let her go instead.

Inside the building there’s a clear sign indicating that the men’s locker room is to the left and the women’s is on the right. Karen knocks on the wall outside the men’s side, hovering awkwardly in the doorway. “Billy?” she calls.

His response comes almost immediately. “Karen?” he asks, sounding startled. She supposes it’s a fair reaction.

“Heather went home for the day,” she explains, “and there’s no lifeguard on duty right now. Some of us parents are a little concerned.”

It takes him a moment to reply this time. “You’ve caught me at a bad time,” he says, voice quite steady if that’s the case. “I’ll be out in just a moment.”

“Alright,” she says slowly. When he doesn’t offer anything else, she pads out of the building.

True to his word, Billy strides to the chair after barely thirty seconds have passed, tossing her a suggestive wink as he takes his seat. She smiles back over the top of her Cosmo, licking her lips briefly.

Several minutes later, Steve comes out of the locker room, rolling his shoulders like he was just lifting something. He slides onto the chair next to his girlfriend’s, popping his sunglasses on and leaning his head closer to her so they can talk. Billy keeps glancing over at them as they laugh together, and even though Steve’s eyes are obscured, it’s clear enough from the tilt of his head that he’s looking at Billy too.

Karen doesn’t really understand their friendship, but stranger things have happened in Hawkins, Indiana.

* * *

(She realizes pretty quickly after that that trying to draw Billy's attention away from Steve is an exercise in futility.)

[djarrex]

So I was wondering, how was rex and reader first kiss, and also the first time they’d slept together? I loved that story about how they met!! I’m genuinely curious

!!Yessssss :’)

Ok, so for anyone who hasn’t read their first meeting/first date, I’ll link it here. Previously, I had included a little bit of their first date in one of the main installments/chapters as a flashback scene during Priya’s birth and you can find that here.

Find the rest in the Post-Order 66 Rex ML

I’ll pick this up from when they’re riding in the taxi on the way to reader’s apartment (from flashback scene found in second link)

18+ only! dry humping, heavy makeout sesh, groping, non-descriptive sex, piv sex, maybe just a hint of ‘first time’ awkwardness but... y’know. overall, Rex is a caring sweetheart. about 2.9k words #Carried Away

<<<>>>

The back of Rex’s hand, the gauntlet plate, that is, lands on your bare thigh - his gloved palm upright and waiting, fingers relaxed. You can’t help your wide smile that grows upon noticing the gesture accompanied by his unsure, yet confident expression as you gladly lay your hand within his - fingers locking into place. 

"Is... this okay?"

So considerate, appropriately cautious, cute.

You lock eyes with his, making it a point when your tongue barely darts out to wet your lower lip while giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. His lips curl at the corners - a little chuckle seeping through his nostrils before turning his head to watch the streaks of lights fly by outside the transparisteel. The ride isn’t very long, but it’s nearly silent. It must be late enough for the driver to have long surpassed the point of wanting to engage in light conversation, thankfully so, and the music is turned down to the lowest volume - just light pulse of a beat coming from the tiny speaker. The whir of the vessel gliding through the air lanes hums throughout the interior, along with the heavy beat of your heart in your ears. Your fingers stay intertwined with Rex’s the entire time. At one point, briefly, his thumb started to absentmindedly brush back and forth over the thick knuckle of yours, and caught himself when the the taxi slowed to halt as it pulled in front of your complex.

Rex scoots out first - extending his hand towards you and helping you out of the seat and onto the duracrete. As you lean into the taxi’s opening to toss the driver some credits, Rex watches the way you move - the way even the miniscule muscles flex underneath your form-fitting dress and with the movement of what skin is exposed. A sudden breeze catches him off guard when that familiar scent of lavender coming from your hair hits him just like it did back on the dancefloor. His own heart is pounding uncontrollably beneath the protective shell of plastoid, though he’s sure you can hear it. Your hearts mirror one another’s tonight - anxious, eager, sure, ready. 

It's quiet after the taxi speeds off. It's late, and the two of you stand just outside the complex entrance in silence, facing one another and staring deep into each other's eyes. There’s a whole bunch being said, without any words actually being spoken. It’s insane the way Rex is just pulling you in without laying so much as a finger on you right now; his gravitational pull is far too strong for you to resist, not that you’re trying to resist. You want to get dragged into his orbit, burn up upon skirting through his atmosphere. That connection... it’s so noticeably there and it’s making your legs weak - weight settling in the back of your head, pushing you forward and closing the space between your faces. You know it’s affecting him just as it’s affecting you. There is no escape, though neither one of you is trying to flee. 

“Is... this o-” 

Rex is unable to echo his question from the taxi once the remaining space between the two of you quickly vanishes. When your lips meet his for the very first time, something just clicks - like two missing pieces from a puzzle that you didn’t even know were absent have just come together and completed it, effectively ending its drawn-out hiatus. You’re sure there are better analogies out there with deeper meaning but it’s hard to think with how wrapped up in him you’re becoming with something as simple as a ‘first kiss’. Your arms flying to wrap around his neck, Rex pulls you closer - his fingers gripping the fabric at your hips and holding you close. A heavy breath escapes from him and you take the opportunity to poke your tongue out to be immediately greeted by his own. It’s medium-paced; not desperate nor casual. The dance you share with the light clashing of teeth, the rhythm that’s set with every little movement of the muscles in your mouths - it’s just right. 

When you move to break away, panting, your eyes quickly dart to the building standing tall to the right of you before they quickly return to his. An overt cue... 

“Do you wan-”

...One of which Rex takes swift action.

“Yes.” Rex didn’t need for you to finish that line; he was already way ahead of you, and was somehow starting to believe you’d never ask. Any nerves of his have long since vanished, as well as any notion of sleep - other, more exciting things urging him on. He knows where he’ll be waking up in the morning, and it’s not on that bedroll in the barracks that he was practically dreaming of back at 79′s before he’d laid eyes on you. For once, the clone captain will allow himself to indulge in what this night holds. 

The two of you are unable to keep your hands to yourselves during the brief ride in the lift up to your floor. Rex holds you impossibly close, hands pressed into your lower back and practically carrying your floating body through the corridors until arriving at your front door; you’d murmured the directions into his lips along the way. With your back pressed against it, your hand swings behind to blindly input the access code. After a few incorrect entries before hearing the musical awarded access, the door slides open, and your fingers wrap around the dip at the top of his cuirass - pulling him to follow you in. You make it as far as the couch, pushing him down to sit as you descend with him, your mouths staying connected in the process. Rex sinks into the cushions, and his hands begin rove your body experimentally from where you’re straddled over his armored lap. You’re melting into his touch, rocking yourself over the hardness of his codpiece, letting the curve of it rub into your clothed heat as his lips trail wet hot down your chin and jaw.

Never had you previously allowed a night like this to get as far with anyone else. 

“I don’t...” Rex pauses as soon as the words leave you - lifting from your neck and meeting your eyes with a flash of concern sinking in his own. “I don’t usually do this, uh, sort of thing,” you elaborate quickly, your hands gesturing to the current situation - nervous, for some odd reason, even though your mind is very made up. His expression softens and a sweet smile creeps on his lips as he traces your own with the pad of his now bare thumb - the touch featherlight, admiring. “I just- just thought I should clear that up.” You’re not sure what it is exactly that you’re clearing up; perhaps you’re afraid that Rex thinks you’re one of those clone groupies, a woman who frequents 79′s to show her appreciation for the brave soldiers of the Republic. Or maybe that you’re someone who often fucks on the first date, just to be casted aside in the morning or the one who does the casting aside. The look he’s giving you, though, as he gazes up at you with something within his eyes that you can’t yet translate, is leading you to believe that he doesn’t put you into any of those categories - didn’t, from the very moment he’d laid eyes on you.

“Mesh’la,” he breathes against your jaw - the foreign-sounding word completely unknown to you but making you clench all the same - the shape of it forming on his lips and pressing into your tender skin. “The same goes for me. I... don’t wanna do anything that’ll scare you away.”

“And here I am thinking that I’m the one coming on too strong too fast,” you jest. Sure, it has only been a single, incomplete night of knowing him, but as silly and cliché as it sounds, it honest to Maker feels like you’ve known him forever. Normally, you’d conclude that allowing yourself to think that would more than likely end up biting you in the ass in the near future, but you truly don’t think that would be the case this time. Not with him.

“Rex...” Breaking from his lips for a breather and cradling the curve of his cheekbones within your hands, you look deep into his kind eyes, searching for the answer to the question you have yet to ask. “Have you ever...?”

“Yes, yes. It, uh, was always quick... when I did.” Rex chews his cheek - his brows pinching together in unwarranted contrition. “I’m sorry,” he sighs.

“For?”

“I don’t want you to think-”

You cut him off with the hard press of your lips to his - grinding yourself down on his lap with a little more purpose. Anything he was about to say, any inhibitions, dissolves like sugar inside your mouth. Minutes crawl by. Maybe longer, you’re unsure; too lost in this milky euphoria to give a damn about something as complex and currently unimportant as time. Your body is on fire; the heat that radiates from his flesh even from under the armor envelopes you in a different kind of warmth. You find your own hands mapping out the parts of his body that aren’t shelled by a plastoid exterior, landing on the piece that you’ve been grinding yourself on since arriving.

“Can I take this off?” Rex peers down at your hand laying over his codpiece; his perfect pout glistening, eyes darkening - the black orbs nearly swallowing the warm honey they reside in as he begins to look you over. 

“Please.”

If it wasn’t already a known fact that you’d never done this with someone like him before, then the way your fingers fumble around the plastoid in a blind search for the clasp - or whatever is holding this Maker forsaken thing in place - sure as hell gives it away. Sensing your evident struggle, Rex’s hand brushes over yours and the hindrance is unfastened in an instant. You raise a brow at him, and he only grins as you lean down to kiss him again.

Rex stands - your arms and legs squeezing him as he walks you to the bed, his erection teasing with its firm press against you. Laying you down on your back, he watches as you shimmy off the rest of your clothing. His breath catches in his throat upon your removal of your bra, eyes widening and fingers drumming at his sides, and you have to urge him to unfreeze so he can finishing undressing and join you.

“I... really want this,” he informs through heavy breaths - a hint of sheepishness engrained within the gruffness - finally moving to climb on the bed between your legs after stripping nearly everything from him and stacking it all in a neat pile. “You. Really want you.” You smile - the gleam reaching your eyes - and grab his arm to pull him on top of you. He’s still wearing his under-armor bottoms, and your hand shamelessly trails down to palm at the hard bulge from above the skin-tight material. 

“I want this too, Rex. You.” He groans - husky and deep - taking a few moments to relish the way your hand feels as you massage him before making quick work to remove the only thing that’s left covering his beautiful body.

It takes you by complete surprise - his extraordinary size. The way it was trapped within the compression bottoms was totally misleading. You swallow a clump of dry air - your tummy tingling and heart racing at the sight of him now completely nude and in the process of climbing back into position. 

“Maker...”

You say the most prominent and immediate thought out loud, causing him to stop in his tracks.

“What? Is everything okay, is- is this okay?” Rex becomes mildly frantic, concerned - just about to climb away but you grab at his shoulder, fingers pressing into the toned, corded flesh where it curves into the base of his neck at the back. 

“Yes,” you sigh - astounded. “I just... you’re, um...” Your eyes remain glued to the erect, throbbing appendage standing at attention between his legs, noting how it curves slightly upwards at the tip and is aimed at your clenching heat. “You’re big, Rex.” When your eyes flicker back up to his, his brow is raised and his lips are pressed into a thin line. Like he doesn’t already fucking know how well-endowed he is. 

Shutting your eyes and sighing quietly, your face stings from the sound of your breathy voice uttering out such truism. He shifts his weight between the arms that are caging you in on either side and looks down at himself - considering. 

“I - uh-”

“It’s okay,” you chuckle with a quick nod of your head as you spread your legs wider with a slight roll of your hips. Your mound briefly brushes the hot, velvety skin along his shaft when you lift your hips again. Your abdomen involuntarily tightens upon noticing the length of him hovering over you, practically marking how deep inside he’ll be.  “I need you, Rex.”

You learn quickly that you needn’t repeat a thing to an esteemed captain of his merit. 

He prepares you, like any true gentleman would, getting your body ready to accept him fully. Licking, touching, sucking, prodding; it’s all so exquisitely slow, intricate, surprisingly good for someone who has had little to no experience in the arena of foreplay. Thick fingers work you open in deep, pleasant strokes - his knuckles knocking into the most tender and pleasurable tissue with every pass. Rex’s lips go from attending to your breasts and trailing along nearly every inch of your skin before reuniting with your own. He inadvertently works a mild orgasm from you from his delicate tongue and purposeful touch alone - the build-up a soft crescendo until you’re moaning his name in the most breathy voice you’ve ever entertained.

You’ve never felt so safe and cared for during moments like these; now is a whole different experience than what you’d encountered in the past. You don’t have an extensive list of previous partners, but all of the ones who had made your short list were boys. Immature, needy, desperate boys. Boys who could never compare to the man who’s currently breaching you with a very gentle roll of his hips laced with all the care in the galaxy. Not to mention, his size. In that alone Rex is unmatched. 

Your lips barely disconnect; the soft whimpers and moans shared between the two of you are breathed into one another and swallowed. You’ve never experienced anything so tender yet deliberate at the same time - the combination of soft meeting its opposite making your head spin and toes curling. Nails forming small crescents indenting into his skin, you hang on to Rex’s broad shoulders as he rocks into you. It’s a steady pace he sets right from the get-go and he keeps that all the way up until your second orgasm flows through you, consequently causing a hint of resistance put up by your clenching walls, affecting his length’s repeating reentry. Not much is said, but a lot is spoken through eye contact. Neither of you want this to end, but when it inevitably does, you’d want to do this again. You want to do more than this; you both want to see each other again. When he finishes, it’s the gravelly, drawn-out groan falling out of his throat that causes you to see the stars from where they’re hung outside Coruscant’s orbit as if you’re sitting directly in front of them, just an arm’s length away. 

You’re cleaned up in such a meticulous and tender way that only Rex could provide. He falls to your side - taking you with him as his strong arms wrap around your torso. It’s insane; the way you fell into each other earlier this evening is comparable to fate itself. You think you’re going crazy, that you’re feeling all these things only after having known Rex for less than several hours, that you’re diving into something too hard and too quickly.

“Do you feel it, too?” 

You don’t know what possessed you to ask him instead of keeping it locked up in your buzzing mind, still keyed up from the best sex you’ve ever had, but it’s out there. Unable to see his face from your position, your heart starts racing with nerves, and in the several moments of silence and lingering regret, you mentally curse at yourself for being so forward.

“Yeah,” Rex says with a soft smile evident in his tone - a huge weight being lifted from your shoulders and tossed aside. “I do.”

With that, his arms hold you just a little tighter and he places a chaste kiss on your temple. It’s not long before the sound of soft snoring fills the otherwise quiet bedroom, and minutes later you’re right there alongside him - content, fluttering heart and all.

<<<>>>

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[weasleyswizardpleases]

Low Profile (reader x fred and george)

Summary: You and your best friends find yourself entangled in a secret polyamorous love affair, right under their family’s noses.

Warnings/Notes: Cw language, kissing (but no sex of any kind), family not accepting poly/queer relationship, bruising. This is for the wonderful and talented @lunalovecroft​’s 2.7k trope-inspired writing challenge! It’s also part of my loose series of fics that take place over the summer when y/n stays at the Weasleys’ house. No twincest- v shaped poly relationship. Here’s my masterlist if you want more! Enjoy!

Ever since you and Fred hooked up the first night of the summer, you’ve been joined at the hip even more than usual, and since George is always with Fred and usually with you, he had to be told once it was clear that you and Fred were gonna be more than a one night stand. You were a bit sad, knowing that it’d probably make him feel left out, in a way. You noticed that George looked a bit miffed when the two of you told him you were dating, in the loosest sense of the word. 

“What’s the matter, you jealous Georgie?” you tease, putting your hand on his knee flamboyantly. He blushes and you and Fred exchange a look.

“Oh my god, you actually are, aren’t you?” Fred asks, half-mocking. For once, George seems to be at a loss for words. He looks quite uncertain and a bit sad. You figure that you may as well break the tension and speak honestly; it’s more important to you to be frank and maintain your friendship than anything else. You clear your throat.

“George, honestly, if you’d been there instead of Fred that night, I’d probably have hooked up with you, too. We’ll all still be friends. That’s why we’re telling you, so we’re not keeping secrets,” you say, trying to goad him into speaking. He shakes his discomfort off and begins.

“Oh, I knew this would happen! We used to just be friends before the two of you started making eyes at each other all the time. Now I’ll barely be able to talk to the two of you- my two best friends, mind you- without all this lovey dovey shit. What an absolute nightmare!”

You open your mouth to speak, but George barrels on, looking at Fred this time.

“And you, some brother you are. You know how I feel about Y/N, I thought we had an agreement to keep it platonic all around?”

“It’s not my fault they’re interested in me!”

“George, I said I would have kissed you that night too! Actually, that’s what I’ve been trying to say to both of you. I’ve got feelings for you, both of you.”

They stop bickering and turn to look at you, turning the idea over in their minds.

“What are you saying?” asks Fred, looking a bit hurt.

“I’m saying,” you take a deep breath, “that I’ve never been better friends with one of you than the other. We do everything together. I don’t want that to change. Besides, you two are identical. Did you think your birthmark was that big of a selling point, Freddie? Of course I think you’re both good-looking, look in the mirror for goodness’ sake!”

They blink at you, then turn away to confer with one another in whispers. You tap your foot impatiently, but when they turn around, they’re beaming.

“So what you’re saying is you’d be fine with us sharing you?” George asks.

“More than fine. I’d be absolutely chuffed,” you say, returning their smiles.

“It’s settled, then,” Fred says, and plants a kiss on the top of your head. You look up at George permissively, and he puts his arm around you and gives you a squeeze.

“One thing, though. Mum and Dad can’t know. Mum especially. She’s not the most open-minded when it comes to this stuff. Especially with us. At least, I doubt she is,” Fred says.

“Yeah, funnily enough it never occurred to me to ask what she’d do if my twin brother and I started a poly fling with our best friend who also lives with us and sleeps in our bedroom, but if I had to guess, I don’t think she’d approve,” George adds, smirking.

“That’s ok. We have a pretty good track record when it comes to keeping secrets,” you say, a mischievous glimmer in your eye.

That evening, you’re helping Molly fold linens when she steps away for a moment to take the kettle off. You feel four hands slip around you from behind and soon you’re pulled into a kiss, Fred on your left, kissing you hard on the neck and collarbone, and George kissing your lips, taking your bottom lip gently between his teeth. You kiss them passionately but push them away after a second, regaining your composure.

“Not here!” you hiss, grinning. They exchange a cheeky glance and kiss you on each cheek before scurrying back to their room, giggling. You shake your head and turn back to folding sheets, just as Mrs. Weasley returns.

“My, my dear, that’s quite a bruise you’ve got there, what happened?” Mrs. Weasley clucks, gesturing to your collarbone where you’re surprised to see a dark, newly formed hickey.

“Oh, pickup quidditch match. I’m not very good, I’m afraid,” you say, the rush of the small lie filling you with butterflies.

“Well now, we are wizards after all. We can’t have you running about looking as if you’ve been sleeping under the whomping willow,” she says cheerfully. She extracts her wand and uses a quick healing spell on the spot, which fades quickly. You wonder if she really doesn’t recognize the bruise as a hickey, but you shrug. The twins have certainly gotten away with worse under this roof.

That night, you and the twins are in the kitchen having a midnight snack. The rest of the house is quiet. You’re sitting on the countertop, helping yourself to a biscuit, and George is leaning on the counter beside you. You feed him a little bite and he licks the crumbs from your fingers playfully. Fred is rummaging through the fridge across the room, and George peers into the fridge nosily. Something piques his interest, and he heads over, whispering to his brother indistinctly. You catch them giggling, and can hear snatches of their conversation. They appear to be working on something as they chat eagerly.

“Take the…”

“... and the… yes! Use a…”

“... that’s just bad…”

“...dare you…”

You hear the familiar sound of compressed air decompressing, and Fred whirls around with a pie tin full of whipped cream in his hand, grinning devilishly.

“No!” you whisper-scream, nearly falling off the countertop, but you’re not fast enough. Fred flops the tin into your face with a splat, and George laughs so hard he winds up on the ground kicking. You lick the cream from your lips, hungry for revenge.

You know Fred is secretly quite vain about his hair, and you waste no time sliding off the countertop and wrapping him up in a hug from behind. He suspects your ulterior motives immediately, but it’s too late for him to escape.

“Oh darling, give me a hug my sweet,” you say, making exaggerated kissy noises while burying your pie covered face in his nice clean hair. He flails about, and you tickle his ribs defensively, causing him to buckle. You fall to the ground with him, giggling and shoving at one another. Just as George joins in, trying to drag you off of his brother, kissing you all over as he tugs on your legs, you hear a floorboard creak. 

Ginny, whose room is closest to the kitchen, stands at the foot of the stairs, gaping at you. You’re sure she saw the kissing, and, well, the whole situation does look a bit… familiar. You whack George on the head and nod in Ginny’s direction.

“Oh, hello Ginny,” Fred says, disentangling himself from his situation beneath you.

“Hello, big brother,”

“Hello, Ginny,” George says, surprise straining his voice.

“Hello, other brother,”

“Hello, Ginny,” you say uncertainly, standing up and wiping your face off with a tea towel.

“Hello, Y/N,” she says. “Some of us are trying to sleep, you know,” she says, raising an eyebrow knowingly. Everyone speaks in hushed tones once again, having remembered that it is indeed the middle of the night. She nods curtly and scampers back upstairs, smiling cheekily.

“Did she see?” George whispers.

“Oh, she saw,” you assure him.

“But she wouldn’t say anything, right?” Fred asks.

“Surely not,” his brother replies nervously. 

“But if she does…” 

“We’re toast. No way mum believes us over her.”

“You guys are being too paranoid. Ginny isn’t a snitch like Ron and Percy, she wouldn’t blab on us for a bit of… roughhousing,” you say hopefully. The twins agree, and you help each other get cleaned up, George dabbing your face clean with a wet towel, giving you gentle kisses in between. 

The rest of the week goes by uneventfully. As far as you know, Ginny doesn’t say anything about what she saw, and life in the burrow goes on as usual. In the mornings, you and Hermione read quietly in the living room over tea. She reads the paper, you look at the comics, every once in a while stopping to remark on a thought you’ve had. 

Then George wakes up. He’s quiet in the mornings, a bit slow, although not very grumpy. Then Molly gets up and usually whips up some sort of breakfast, and by the times everyone’s up you all gather round the long table and eat together. Then, if you’re lucky, you run off outside or to a neighbor's house or abscond to the attic with Fred and George, away from prying eyes and away from Molly’s commands. If you’re unlucky, Molly enlists at least one of you in some chores, usually out in the garden. 

The next time the three of you come close to getting caught, you’re doing just this- de-gnoming with Fred, George, and Ron when Ron gets a headache and goes inside, complaining that it’s far too hot. In reality, the day is rather mild, although the sun is bright enough that Fred and George both have pink sunburns radiating across the bridges of their noses. You flick Fred on his sunburnt cheek and he winces.

“Ow! What’s that for?!” he asks, nearly dropping a gnome right back into the grass. 

“I need your attention!”

“For what?”

“A kiss,” you reply devilishly. He obliges you and kisses you dramatically, dipping you low, holding you in his arms. “Like this, mi amore?” he asks in a silly accent.

“Lunchtime!” Molly calls from the doorway, causing Fred to drop you to the ground and George to leap in front of the two of you oddly, trying to obscure his mum’s line of sight. You brush yourself off and head for the house, hoping Mrs. Weasley didn’t see anything.

“Fred Weasley!” Mrs. Weasley says shrilly, and you all cringe. You hold your breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Fred, did I just see you toss Y/n to the ground? That’s no way to treat a guest, especially when you’re meant to be doing housework!” You sigh deeply, relieved. “Come in, dearie, I swear, sometimes I don’t know who raised those two!” she says, putting an arm around you to guide you in the house.

[plus-size-reader]

Sneaking Around

Columbus Ohio x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2344 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Tallahassee finding out that you, his daughter, and Columbus have been seeing each other in secret

—————————————————————————————————

It was a bad idea.

All things considered, there was nothing worse that you could have done. You both knew it, but at the same time, you couldn’t help yourselves.

Once Tallahassee found out about this whole thing, he was going to lose his mind. However, as much as you loved and respected him as your father, you weren’t blind to the fact that he wasn’t always right.

Where Columbus was concerned, for example, he couldn’t have been more wrong.

Florida acted like there was something wrong with him, even though the younger male was arguably your father’s greatest friend in the world. It was where you were concerned that the whole thing fell apart.

Columbus wasn’t good enough for you.

The idea of the two of you together, in any way, made him want to throw up and Tallahassee wasn’t exactly secretive about that. It was his one rule, the one thing he’d forbidden you from doing.

You weren’t allowed to date him.

So, naturally, that was exactly what you were doing.

It was inevitable.

The two of you were around the same age, going through something that only you were going through, and as if you didn’t already know, the apocalypse was lonely.

It wasn’t like the dating pool was vast and diverse.

Besides, you didn’t see anything wrong with it. Just because Tallahassee was your father didn’t mean he got to decide everything you did for the rest of your life.

There was a difference between keeping you safe and running your life. All you asked was that he learned the difference and respected it.

The two of you had grown up together seeing as Tallahassee had you pretty young, and your mom gave up custody of you almost immediately. In that way, you knew you were closer than the typical father-daughter would be.

...but controlling who you could and couldn’t date in your early twenties was a bit of a stretch.

You liked Columbus, and at this point, you weren’t even sure if you’d be able to stay away from him if you tried. The only other option then, if you didn’t want to be lectured into eternity, was keeping your relationship a secret.

It wasn’t ideal, and you weren’t happy about lying to him, but sometimes you had to do what had to be done.

What Florida didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Right?

Wrong.

Sneaking around was bound to get old at some point, and the longer you kept it up, the more you ran the risk of getting caught, which just couldn’t happen.

You would never, ever, live that down.

Though, one of you wasn’t nearly as worried about getting caught as the other. In fact, Columbus was having a really good time keeping secrets from Tallahassee and sneaking around behind his back.

He was getting a kick out of it.

The older man had been busting his balls since they met and knowing that he had such a huge secret that Florida knew nothing about was some pretty sweet irony for him.

Of course, it didn’t hurt that he was head over heels in love with you.

From the start, Ohio had been in a desperate search for love and as soon as he met you, he knew you would be the one. There was just something about you, and he couldn’t imagine anyone else changing his life like you had.

You were strong and determined, without the uncontrollable anger and sass that Tallahassee had. It was as if you mixed together all the good qualities in the man with the genes of your mother, who he could only imagine was an angel.

That was the only way he could imagine Tallahassee having a kid like you.

It didn’t make any sense otherwise.

“Come here, look at this” You gushed, grabbing Columbus by the arm in a desperate attempt to get him to pay attention to what it was you were seeing.

After what had happened at Graceland, you had very little hope for the Hound Dog Hotel but it wasn’t shaping up to be too bad a time. All things considered, there was some pretty cool stuff here.

...and you weren’t the only one who thought so.

You hadn’t seen your dad since you walked through the doors and you were sure he was sneaking around here somewhere, snatching memorabilia from the shelves and singing at the top of his lungs.

At the very least, this place would put him in a better mood than he’d been in lately.

“Are you seeing this? These are Elvis’ actual shoes” you gasped, gesturing wildly to them as you fangirled. You had been raised on Tallahassee’s love of the King, and harbored quite the obsession yourself.

Being here was putting you in a really good mood.

Columbus grinned, watching you stare in awe at the blue suede, taking in every little detail of them as if you had never seen anything better before now.

It was sweet.

There was something sweet about it, something innocent that he hadn’t seen in you in a really long time. It was a real joy, without the worry or concern that came with living in a world like this one.

“I see” he hummed, not even bothering to hide the amusement in his tone as he talked to you.

A pair of shoes seemed a little silly as far as things to get this excited about were but he was just glad you were so happy. If you were happy, he was happy.

That was how this whole thing worked.

“And isn’t that amazing?” you continued, hoping that you could prompt a similar amusement from him but nothing came, not in the way you were looking for anyway.

More than anything, he just enjoyed being here with you.

The two of you didn’t get a lot of chances to be alone without the intrusion of someone else, whether that be Wichita, Little Rock, or worst of all, Tallahassee.

Just being together was all he could have ever wanted, but there was one other thing that would have surely gotten the reaction from you that he wanted so badly.

Without so much as a second thought, Ohio snatched the blue suede shoes from the pedestal they were on and slipped them on to his feet. It wasn’t a sure thing at first, but he quickly realized they were a perfect fit.

What were the odds of that?

“What do you think?” he grinned, doing his best to be suave in them, though it didn’t really work that way because he was too lanky and awkward. Instead, he sort of resembled a newborn calf learning to walk.

Thankfully, he was so endearing and adorable that you couldn't help but laugh.

“They’re very sexy” you teased, closing the space between you with a smirk on your face, doing your best to keep the giggled bubbling up in your throat at bay as you draped your arm over his shoulder.

“Oh yeah, you think?”

Columbus’ voice came in the same teasing tone as your own, his eyebrows wiggling as he looked at you, jaw tight to hold in his own laughter.

This was just too much for you both.

“Absolutely” you smiled, leaning forward just enough to capture his lips with your own as the best way to punctuate your point. They weren’t really all that sexy so much as you just liked him, but he wasn’t about to split hairs over it.

He was just glad to be kissing you, in all honesty.

However, the moment was over as quickly as it started because from somewhere behind you, someone else had entered the room and wasn’t about to leave you to it.

After all, Tallahassee was just doing his best to keep his head from exploding as he took in the sight of you, his daughter, in a heated make out with his most pathetic acquaintance.

It wasn’t happening.

He was sure it wasn’t.

The more viable conclusion was that he’d fallen somewhere and given himself a concussion, inducing hallucinations, or maybe he was dead. Anything would be easier to accept than what he was looking at.

“Oh fuck no”

Those three words were practically inaudible at first, but that too was short lived because once he’d realized that what he was seeing was really happening, that was when the yelling started.

...and once he started, it was hard to get him to stop.

In fact, by the time you’d turned around, fully separating from Columbus, your father was already red in the face.

Evidently, today was the day.

You were never going to hear the end of this.

“HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN HIDING THIS FROM ME? I MEAN, ANYONE WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER THAN HIM? WHAT HAPPENED TO MY RULES? THAT WAS THE ONE THING I ASKED-”

There was no good way for this to end, which you and Columbus both knew. Even as you looked at him, eyes wide, Tallahassee kept going. He couldn’t imagine how this had happened right under his nose.

As far as he knew, the two of you didn’t even get along but clearly that wasn’t the case. He wasn’t born yesterday, and he knew what kissing like that meant.

That wasn’t a passing smooch or a casual make out out of boredom. This was something the two of you had been maintaining for quite some time, and that was the worst part of it all.

You had been lying to him.

“Buddy, calm down. It’s not that big of a deal” Columbus tried, practically shouting into the void with his suggestion. Though, as soon as he spoke, Florida stopped his rant in its tracks.

Which wasn’t a good sign.

“Oh no, not gonna happen buddy” he spit back, momentarily making you glad he’d left his gun in the van. If he had it right now, there was no telling what would happen.

Tallahassee was angry, in general, but this was something different. For him, this was more of a betrayal than something that would make him angry, which made it so much worse.

He just couldn’t believe this was happening.

All you knew was that someone had to do something before this escalated much more and ruined the entire thing you all had going on. You were a family, but if you didn’t step in, there wouldn’t be anything left.

Clearly, Columbus wasn’t the one to fix this whole thing.

“Okay, can we just talk about this like adults please? I’m a grown up, remember?” you hummed, intentionally keeping your voice calm to keep this from escalating that much more.

Over everything else, you were sure he was more upset with you. At its core, this issue was about you growing up and doing something you shouldn't have done.

It had very little to do with Columbus himself.

If it had been anyone else, Florida would have been just as upset.

“Oh, you’re a grown up, well then, what am I even doing here?” he grumbled, completely ignoring the male at your side now, his focus completely on your face.

Objectively, he knew you were right. Even with as much as the world around you had changed, you had too. You weren’t a little girl anymore, clinging onto his pant leg and crying every time he left your side.

You were a grown woman, which was hard enough for a father to grasp, but this was something else entirely.

You weren’t allowed to be with him.

You just weren’t.

“That’s not what I meant. I just don’t get why it's such a big deal” you huffed, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jeans, where you could hide the anxious tapping you got up to.

All you were doing was seeing someone who you really liked and while having your literal father walk in on an impromptu make out wasn’t ideal, it also shouldn’t have been the end of the world.

He used to date plenty, before most of the population died out.

“Because it is. I told you not to do it, and you did” Tallahassee grumbled, crossing his arms, his words leaving his lips in a traditional dad fashion.

That was always his go to thing, even when you were a kid.

You can’t do that because I told you not to.

It might have worked out well when you were six years old and trying to tie your opposing shoelaces together but not anymore.

Now, the world was literally crumbling around you and you all faced death on a daily basis. If the worst thing you got up to was falling in love with a man who carried a tiny purell in his pocket, you didn’t get why that was such a problem.

Out of all the men you could have chosen, even before the end of the world, Columbus was by far the best.

He was sweet, smart, and cared about you more than anyone ever had in your life. By all accounts, you were lucky and while you felt bad for lying to Tallahassee about being with him, you wouldn’t have done anything differently.

Being with him was important to you, and you loved him.

Nothing was going to change that.

“I love him, okay? That’s why I didn’t want to tell you, because I knew this was how you would react” you sighed, finding it almost impossible to not just give up completely.

You knew that no matter what you said, it wouldn’t make a difference. Once Tallahassee had made up his mind, there was nothing you could do to change it.

As much as you would have liked for him to be supportive of your relationship, you weren’t going to stop seeing the man you loved just to appease him.

It just wasn’t going to happen.

It would seem that if there was any time for you to act like your father and take on his stubborn nature, it was now. You just weren’t ready to lose Columbus.

Not now, and not ever.

[helpimhyperfixating]

What if all the stardust crusaders were also mermen?

This is my first time writing for the other Jojo’s, so I’m sorry if they’re ooc. I tried 🤷‍♀️

Didn’t know exactly what you wanted so I just did some random things XD (sorry for the weird formatting)

What if the Crusaders were also Mermen? Chaos, that’s what. Just imagine a journey across the seas just to beat up the sea snake that is Dio, but then think ten times harder. Going from the Pacific Ocean, to the Indian Ocean, into the Arabian Sea all just to get his ass.

Enemies are still sent by Dio, but now Dark Blue Moon is no longer special, kek. No but, while the enemies remain similar, Stands aren’t really a thing and therefore it becomes more a fight of physical strength. When Mer can come in all sorts of shapes, colours and sizes however, the battles always remain with an unsure outcome. Vanilla Ice the Giant Squid was a very close call.

The journey itself was tiresome, with them having to swim the entire way instead of being able to use transportation. Not to even mention other things. Every day is chaos - not even taking enemies into account - when travelling with the crusaders:

Polnareff won’t have to worry about clean toilets for once but still always seems to be complaining about something, Kakyoin and Jotaro are both still adolescents so they don’t quite have a grip on their instincts yet, more easily distracted by small things such as animals they don’t yet know or a shape quickly fluttering away in the current (must be chased and caught!!!), Joseph is basically an overgrown adolescent even if he is the patriarch of the pod so he usually shoots along with his grandson and friend. Iggy is there but then he isn’t??? And then he is again?? All in all, Avdol should get a medal, award, title, anything and everything really for his patience and ability to keep the others on track and keep them going.

Now, personality wise:

The Joestar pod is a big one. Family and friends coming together over time to form a larger and larger pod until it is eventually one of the largest out there. All kinds of Mer have come together to form this giant family unit and - apart from one defect (Dio) - it has stayed surprisingly tight knit.

Jonathan:

He is the pod patriarch, making the decisions together with Erina, who is the matriarch.

Super protective of the pod. Would shield the entire family with his body if he could. But since he can’t he’ll settle for just shielding all the pups, since the others can protect themselves. He is large enough to do so anyways.

Best play mate possible. All the pups love him.

I imagine he either has the body of a seal, or a blue whale. Very different yes, but he is just an excited ginormous puppy, hence the seal. But he is also a gentle giant, hence the blue whale. And also... other, more obvious reasons (*cough* he buff and giant *cough*).

Joseph:

In his younger years, he is the bane of existence of all the adults in the pod. In both his adolescent as well as young adult/adult stage, Joseph is a hyperactive troublemaker. More than once he has snuck out of pod territory, only to come fleeing back with an angry sea creature on his tail, needing resident buff protector Jonathan to step up and chase his attacker off.

In his older years, he has mellowed out a bit, needing to be since he inherited the position of pod patriarch from Jonathan. He is however, still a prankster and always will be. He will play a prank on the pups every so often where he pretends to have died in the night when they come get him for meal- or play time (He’s been scolded by Suzie Q for that after one of the pups burst out crying. He promised to never do it again, but he definitely will).

I imagine he has the lower body of a dolphin. Dolphins can be real assholes. But also very playful and agile, which Joseph stays, no matter his age. Either that, or a sawfish. Their faces look a little silly, but don’t bloody mess with them. They are fast as all hell and they can also get to be fujking big. About 7 meters (23 feet) on average to be exact. But then again, Joseph wouldn’t get the face so he has nothing to worry about.

Jotaro:

Oh, Jotaro. Our resident grumpy Mer. In a pod dynamic he usually has one of two moods. Tolerant, or, leave me the fuck alone. Usually it is the latter.

Surprisingly enough however, his personality seems to appeal to several of the pups. It’s about a 50/50 chance whether they’ll be scared of him, or think he is the coolest. Oftentimes a disgruntled Jotaro can be seen, followed by about two or three small Mer who are chatting his ears off or chewing on his side fins as they teeth.

Thanks to this, Jotaro is often the one who goes hunting. It finally gives him a bit of that peace and quiet he needs. Yare yare indeed.

I imagine Jotaro to have the body of a bull shark. Not the biggest or most aggressive shark out there, but part of the top 3 for sure. Also, Mer have the tendency to have their tails be bigger than their animal counterpart, such is definitely the case with Jotaro. Male bull sharks averaging in about 2 meters in length while just Jotaro’s tail is already almost double that.

Josuke:

Josuke has inherited some of his father’s hyperactivity unfortunately. The young Mer can often be heard from a mile away whenever he is hanging out with his friends.

Speaking of which, one day Josuke just turned up with several Mer in need of a home. Guess they’re part of the pod now!

Josuke is always quick to help anyone who needs it though. Need a hand? Josuke is there. Want someone to watch the pups? Might be a bit of a hazard, but Josuke will gladly do so. Need something that is very specific and probably quite a swim-distance away? Josuke is already on his way there.

He just wants to help and be useful, let him do stuff please 🥺

Still somehow has his hairdo, even underwater.

I drew Josuke as a Nurse shark a little while back, but for some reason I can also really see him being a sting ray?? I don’t know why, I think a sting ray fits him but that may be my bias towards stingrays.

But the lower half I can really see him having is that of a sailfish. (Have you seen the sails on those fish? They are just as impressive as Josuke’s hair. It’s a perfect match) they are fast as fuck boiiiiii, perfect for our lovable goof.

Either that or he is an otter cause they are bloody adorablez

Giorno:

Giorno wasn’t born as part of the Joestar pod unfortunately. Growing up, his father, Dio, had different goals and morals and broke away from the Joestar pod. Oftentimes Giorno heard him talk about the old pod he was once a part of, and how he vowed to wipe it from the sea.

This sparked a curiosity in the young Mer and when he was old enough, he decided to just up and leave the Brando pod. His initial goal was to find the Joestar pod he had heard so much about, but on his travels, he came across a different one. After spending some time with them, he decided to remain with Bucciarati and his pod of misfits.

All kinds of sea creatures flock to Giorno. For some reason, the calm and confident aura he gives off makes many animals feel safe and protected, hiding under or against his body if he is resting or sitting down on the ocean floor, or - if Giorno allows it - following him as he swims.

Giorno. Hmm, Giorno. I think he might have the lower body of a barracuda or a lion fish. Sleek, streamlined, dangerous. Or, pretty, yet hard to approach with his poisonous spikes poised unless he trusts you and allows you near. His spikes will lie as flat down his body as he can get them to show this. Not many Mer have this honour.

(Or he is part of the requiem shark family, lols, sorry I had to)

Jolyne:

Jolyne can be energetic or standoffish, you can never really tell which of the two it will be. Her dynamic in the pod differs from day to day depending on her mood, but when it comes to it, there is nothing she won’t do for it.

Very playful and giddy. Loves to hang out with her best friends and is the unofficial appointed forager with how much stuff she brings back whenever she goes for a swim.

Jolyne’s lower half. Hum hmm. Her body either somewhat resembles a butterfly fish, only- updated to be more mermaid like by being more stretched out, her tail fin mainly resembling the fish while her tail is more classic. It’s very pretty though and she somehow has some octopus genes in her, making her able to change colours, which she absolutely loves to do, nearly coming in with a new colour every day (though she has a few favourites) Either that, or she resembles her dad a little more with the lower half of a spinner shark. She’s sleek and agile. A swift and dangerous predator you should not mess with. She might look harmless when she’s chatting with her friends, but when she is spinning at you with claws poised and no way to escape, you’d click a different tune.

Haven’t read part 7 or 8 yet, sorry :(

[kythed]

I have a fic request for Kuroo! A childhood friends to lovers situation based off the song Take my Hand by Picture This! (Just a cute song that has been haunting me because Kuroo ❤️)

I have been through and stalked your blog and I love it! I also saw the ficmas prompt list and I’m looking forward to requesting those too!

I hope this is okay and thank you so much! Your stuff is a joy to read! ❤️❤️❤️✨✨✨

take my hand

kuroo tetsurou x reader

hope you enjoy <3

five.

“You’re my best friend,” he tells you, swallowing the heart that keeps straining to burst from his throat, to lay itself at your feet in all its humiliating devotion. “Of course I love you.”

And he does love you, he reassures himself, letting you walk ahead of him. Just not in the way you think he does. He struggles to keep his eyes above your waistline, tearing his gaze from the hem of your skirt and pointedly pinning it to the back of your head, where your hair is loosely tied with a glossy silk ribbon. His efforts succeed for nearly thirty seconds before he again finds his eyes tracing their way down your neck, down your back, down to the arch of your waist and the flare of your hips, relishing the curve of your--

Damn it. He abruptly stops in his tracks, rubbing his eyes until he sees only stars. (Maybe if he rubs his eyes with enough vigor he’ll stop noticing things he shouldn’t notice while looking at his best friend.)

“Tetsu,” you say, turning around with a laugh. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says gruffly, blinking hard.

He’s not fine.

four.

Life is painful when you’re in love with your oldest, dearest friend. Let Kuroo Tetsurou be the first to testify that when you’ve grown up with someone your entire life, when you’ve made the long, tedious trek from diapers to graduation gowns with them, it feels almost sinful to find yourself slipping into daydreams about pressing that person against your wall, about hearing them whisper your name on soft linen sheets, about kissing them breathless and glassy eyed until the sun plunges beneath the horizon with a brazen wink.

He hates himself for staring at you and hoping to catch you staring back. He hates himself for letting your words wash over his head, unheard, in favor of watching the way your lips curve and curl when you speak.

Most of all, he hates himself for loving you so fiercely in a particular way that would surely sour your stomach and send you running.

“I love you too,” you say, waiting for him to catch up and fall into step beside you. You take his hand and lace your fingers with his as you make your way up the street to your house. The windows glow a domestic orange, dimly illuminating the patch of asphalt before your front door.

It’s nearing seven now-- the gentle clinking of silverware and some sort of faint, savory scent from within inform you of dinner’s impending commencement.

“I know,” he says, cracking a crooked smile. You roll your eyes as he brushes a mocking kiss over your knuckles. “I’m hard to hate.”

three.

Most of the summer passes uneventfully, according to Kuroo’s standards. He manages to keep himself in check, even as he spends each and every day with you, dawn til dusk, savoring your presence the way a starving man savors his last ration.

He manages to treat you almost exactly as he’s treated you his entire life-- like a best friend. He tells his silly jokes that make you giggle and groan simultaneously. He pushes you off the pier when you least expect it, howling with laughter as you resurface, sputtering and flinging fiery invective. He shares an earbud with you as he walks downtown with you by his side, arm slung over your shoulder with carefully calculated composure.

He almost makes it to autumn without incident.

The small, hidden moments are what gives him away, though, layered within false nonchalance and easygoing grins like brightly painted matryoshka.

The way his chest constricts almost painfully when you laugh at a pun he’s ad-libbed on the spot, sending a flurry of butterflies freewheeling in the pit of his stomach.

“It really wasn’t that good,” he chuckles, tenderly watching as tears of laughter prick at the corners of your eyes and you grip his forearm in an attempt to steady yourself as giggles rack your body.

“No, it wasn’t,” you agree, struggling to catch your breath. “It was awful, and that’s what made it so funny.”

(He makes about a dozen more puns that day, feeling like he’s won the lottery whenever you so much as smile at his pitiful attempts at wordplay.)

The way his hands tremble when you turn around and ask him to tie your bikini string before you jump into the lake, the way he bites his lip so some horribly incriminating comment about how he really thinks you’d “be better off without the bikini at all” doesn’t slip out from his mouth.

“Thanks Tetsu,” you chirp after he ties the string around the back of your neck in a neat double-knot. You give him a wink and take off towards the water, kicking up sand in the process. “Last one in buys lunch!”

(He was already planning on paying anyways.)

The way he sits up a little straighter when you lean over and slip a hand under his arms to press ‘skip’ on his phone while you listen to his playlist-- you’re so close he can smell your lip balm.

“Sorry,” you say, smiling apologetically. “I don’t really like that band.”

(Later that evening, Kuroo goes through his Spotify and deletes every single song from that band he has on all of his playlists.)

Yes, he manages to keep himself in check outwardly. But inside, he can feel himself digging his grave a little deeper with each passing day. He watches the sands of summer run through his fingers with the dread of a man counting down the days to his funeral.

He just knows that one of these days he’s going to slip.

two.

He’s right, of course. There’s only so much emotional torment one person can humanly endure. It’s just that he’s hoping he can extinguish this inconvenient, one-sided flame before August comes around. Maybe then everything can go back to normal, whatever normal might entail.

Needless to say, Kuroo’s hopes are dashed before summer comes to a close.

It’s a sticky July evening when you and he drive out to an empty parking lot at the edge of town, a blanket and an old transistor radio in tow. You’re wearing a pale yellow sundress that falls to just above your knees-- he’s glad it’s not any shorter, and that the breeze isn’t quite strong enough to lift your hem.

“I think I can see Orion’s belt,” you say, pointing towards somewhere far into the cosmos. Kuroo squints, trying to follow your finger.

“I don’t think that’s Orion,” he says. “Looks like a cat to me.”

The two of you are sitting on a blanket spread across the hood of his car, craning your necks to make out vague shapes in the stars. Between you, slow, muffled music trickles out from the radio’s small speakers, some sort of vintage tune from the forties.

“How in the world are you seeing a cat?” You shake your head, giving him a hard poke on the shoulder. “Looks more like a swarm of astral bees than anything.”

“Astral bees,” he repeats with a laugh. “Laziest constellation interpretation I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s not lazy,” you protest. “It’s accurate.”

Kuroo just smiles and shrugs, sneaking a glance at you. Your face is bathed in milky starlight, eyes wide as you peer up at the cloudless sky with a blend of wonder and appreciation. There’s some competition, but he thinks this might be the prettiest you’ve ever looked in a single moment.

As if you can feel his stare, you turn to catch his gaze. A gentle smile breaks onto your face, and you absentmindedly tuck a strand of hair behind your ear with the endearing shyness of a schoolgirl. “What is it?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he says, mirroring your grin. “You just… look nice right now.”

“No, seriously,” you laugh disbelievingly. “Is there something on my face?”

“I am being serious,” Kuroo insists, fidgeting with the blanket beneath his palms. “You look good. Yellow suits you.”

You flush, glancing down at your dress. You bought it two summers back, and he’s seen you in it a million times before. This is the first summer where he’s really seen you, though. “Well, thank you. It’s a warm night, so I figured I was better off in a dress than pants.”

“Yeah,” he says softly, breaking eye contact to squint up at the stars. He grins and points, finger trembling slightly. “I think I can see where you’re coming from, with the bees.”

one.

A staticky, syrupy waltz comes on the radio, bleeding into the cracks in the comfortable silence. You sigh contentedly, leaning back onto the windshield. “I like this song. It’s… nostalgic.”

Kuroo cocks an eyebrow at you. “You’ve heard this before?”

“No,” you laugh, biting the inside of your cheek. “But it reminds me of times gone by, you know? Like, this is the sort of music I imagine playing when a soldier reunites with his wife after the war.”

“When he comes running out of the train and drops his bags on the platform,” Kuroo continues, watching you carefully, “only to sweep his girl off her feet and spin her around wildly.”

You nod, sneaking a glance at him. “You really know me that well, huh?”

“Yeah,” he says, eyes crinkling with humor. “But I get it, too. It has that old fashioned romance thing goin’ on.”

“Mhm,” you agree. You reach over and fiddle with the radio’s volume, turning it up just enough to round out the sound completely.

Kuroo sits for a moment, watching you close your eyes and hum along to the music. Then, a sudden boldness taking the reins, he hops off the hood and walks over to you, extending his hand. “Take it.”

“What?”

“Take my hand,” he insists, so you do, gingerly placing your palm atop his. “We’re going to dance.”

“Oh, no,” you laugh, nonetheless letting him help you down from the car and resting a hand on his shoulder. He lightly places his own on your waist, leading you out into the parking lot. “You know I can’t dance.”

“I can’t either,” he reminds you. “But I want to dance with you right now.”

As you begin to sway slightly to the music, Kuroo pulls you a little closer to his chest, letting his chin brush the top of your head. “Why are you into that whole idea?”

“What idea?” you ask quietly, letting him lead you in slow circles around the lot.

“The idea of an old fashioned love.”

“Oh,” you say, laughing as Kuroo spins you in his arms, catching you before you stumble. “I’m not sure… maybe because it seems more constant than love today. Like, today, if you tell someone you love them, it’s a compliment, not a promise. But back then, it was a vow. It meant something.”

Kuroo swallows, looking down at you. His heartbeat pounds in his ears, threatening to burst out of his temples. I’m about to do something I might regret.

zero.

“I need you to do something for me,” he says, voice low and thick with caution. “Close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Please,” he says, voice breaking. He knows that if he doesn’t do this now, he never will. You look beautiful to him in this moment, dancing with him in the empty parking lot to the faint melody of an old waltz. Your eyes glisten with life, your lips gently parted, hair slightly curling over your cheeks.

You roll your eyes once but nonetheless close them obediently, relying a little more on his arms to steady you. He swallows. “Okay. So, imagine we’re living in the 1940s.”

“Okay,” you say, smiling slightly. “I’m imagining.”

“Imagine I enlisted in the war, and I just got back home. Imagine you’re waiting for me at the train station.”

“Mhmm,” you say, trying your best to envision the platform. “You look good in that uniform, Tetsu.”

He chuckles. “I look good in anything.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, squeezing his hand. “Get on with it.”

“Imagine I come sprinting out from the train and you’re waiting there with open arms. This song is playing on the platform speakers. I ask you to dance just like we are now.” Kuroo watches you grin, feeling his heart flutter. “Then, imagine I tell you something.”

Unconsciously, you shift closer to him, almost pressing your body flush to his. A breath hitches in his throat. “What do you tell me?”

He leans down, brushes his lips against your ear. “I love you.”

You open your eyes, head cocked, slight confusion cloaking your features. “You mean, like…?”

Kuroo shakes his head. “No. I mean, like, I love you. Not just in a friend way. In that old fashioned way you were talking about. I love everything about you. I’m in love with everything about you.”

“Tetsu…” you breathe, searching his face. He gazes down at you seriously, not a trace of humor tainting his stare. He takes a deep breath.

“I love the way your hair falls in the summer. I love your stupid, annoying laugh. I love how your hand fits in mine. I love the way you rant about anything and everything and expect me to listen, and I do because I can’t help but get excited about what you get excited about. I love you like a soldier loves his wife,” he says, the words flowing out like a river bursting from a dam. “I love you so much it hurts, and it scares me, and I’m sorry if this ruins stuff between us, but I just had to--”

“Shut up.”

He blinks, mouth gaping. “I-- what?”

“I said,” you whisper, gripping the back of his neck and guiding his face down to yours. “Shut up, Tetsu. You talk too much.”

Then suddenly you’re kissing him, and he can’t believe it, but he kisses you back like it’s what he was born to do. He lets you crash your lips into his and watches as shooting stars burst forth and the planets align. Somehow, your hands find their way up into his hair, tangling themselves in his dark locks, and his own travel down to your lower back, pulling you as close as humanly possible, so tightly he never wants to let go. He revels in the warmth of your skin, the icy, tingly sensation of your lips, and when you pull back, it’s all he can do to refrain from pulling you right back in again.

There’s a brief silence. His lips are swollen, his lungs are devoid of air. “I… wow. Just, wow.”

You grin wickedly, slipping your hand into his. “I’ve been waiting to do that for a while now.”

“You have?” he asks, eyes wide in disbelief. “I didn’t notice.”

“Of course you didn’t,” you laugh. “You were too worried about not letting me notice you staring at my ass every chance you got.”

Kuroo flushes but gives a sheepish smile, massaging the back of his neck. “You know, I really thought I was being smooth about it.”

--

As it turns out, you love him back. And not just in the best friend way. You love everything about him, his stupid jokes, his loud, booming laugh, his teasing, his smile, his successes and his failures. You love how your hand fits in his. You love that it took him years and years to admit to himself that he loved you, too.

Kuroo Tetsurou may not be the smoothest guy in the world, but he’s certainly the only one you want. And you’re certainly the only one he wants.

And that’s really the most you could ever ask for.