#very obviously i’m not serious when poking fun at big foreheads

[genderqueer-karma]

god i’m to the point with new blorbo that i’m making fun of him for features we share

[wri0thesley]

A Well Rounded Education (2): Grading Boundaries (Fem!Reader x Nanami Kento, 7.5k)

series synopsis: You are a teacher’s aid to teacher Gojo Satoru, training to be able to take over your own class next year by shadowing and helping him out. Gojo does not make things easy for anybody.

chapter synopsis: the father of one of your students requested a meeting to ask about ways of improving his son’s grades. after working with him for a few weeks, nanami wants to thank you for helping yuji out in his own personal way. 

NSFW. AFAB reader, fem pronouns. oral sex (male on female and female on male), massage, nanami is just a gentleman after toji tbh.

(a well rounded education m.list and navigation)

1.

You oversleep the next morning and for the first time since beginning your work as Gojo’s teaching aid, the other man is at his desk before you manage to rush into the classroom. He’s relaxed, arms behind his head, feet up on the desk – and when he sees you, he gives you a cheery wave and a grin.

“Found this on the floor this morning!” He says to you, using his thumb to flip you something small and round that you only manage to catch through sheer dumb luck. You stare down at the thing you’re cradling in your palm; one of the round buttons from your blouse, that you guess you missed after Toji had left and you’d had to try and pull yourself together.

““S-sorry about that,” you babble, your mind working eighty miles a minute to think of a proper excuse. “I-it got caught on my jacket when I was getting ready to leave last night, I wondered where it had gotten to--”

“How’d the meeting with Tsumiki go?”

“Huh?” You ask, blinking down at the button still, trying to fight the heat that is crawling up your face as you shove the accusing object into the pocket of your neatly tailored jacket. “Oh! It wasn’t Tsumiki. It was Mr Fushiguro, actually. M-Megumi’s father?”

There’s a pause in the air, almost as if it’s rippling with tension. When you look up, Gojo is staring at you, his eyes implacable behind dark lenses.

“I see,” he says. “That’s unusual.”

“I gave him all the paperwork, explained the probation and everything,” you hurry to say, almost tripping over your words. You don’t like the way he’s staring at you, and you find yourself shifting from foot to foot, hoping you don’t look like someone who let their student’s father rail you over their boss’ desk. “Megumi’ll be back in school next week, and hopefully nothing like this will happen again--”

“Mm,” Gojo says. You’ve never heard him sound that serious before, ignoring the chance to poke a little fun. His voice usually pitches and modulates, laughing, before he cracks some kind of inane joke that makes you and half the class wince. “I’ve got a meeting tonight, by the way. I was hoping you’d sit in with me.”

“Please don’t palm off more of your dirty work on me,” you say to him, as you go over to your own little makeshift table in the corner of your room and begin to rifle through your bag for the things you’ll need for the day. “To-- Mr Fushiguro was kind of scary, honestly.”

“Oh, it’s nothing like that!” Gojo waves your worries away with a hand, immediately dismissing it. “No, it’s Yuji’s dad – he wants to talk about his grades, I think? I said I don’t think it really matters, and he got really quiet and kind of angry on the phone with me.” Gojo shrugs. Of course Gojo said something like that. You’re not sure Gojo himself has ever worried about something in his life. “Honestly, he’s a. . . businessman type. Very serious! I just want someone to diffuse the tension a bit!” Gojo grins at you. “So you’re my human shield!”

Right.

Far be it for you to think that Gojo might have an educational reason for wanting you to sit in on this meeting. Still . . . you really like Yuji. You know that sometimes his inability to understand things frustrates him – he’s constant energy, and his mind just can’t keep up with the pace of the rest of him. You’d like to help where you can! And you know that Gojo’s probably not going to be able to offer any helpful advice – his classes might work for some kids, and Yuji does really like him, but that’s a boy who would probably benefit from some individualised attention and someone a little quieter.

You don’t like the idea of him with a father who pushes him academically and doesn’t care about his other achievements. Biting your lip, you nod, busying yourself with laying out the pens on your desk and flicking through one of your training books to see if there’s anything about meetings with parents. This one, you think and hope, is definitely not going to end up the same way yesterday’s meeting did.

There’s a kind of nervous energy in Yuji all day. He drops his pen, he shoots you agonised looks until you come over to check his work, and as everyone is milling out to go to lunch, he comes to stand in front of you, kicking his toe on the floor. You smile at him, seeing how he’s vibrating, rocking on the balls of his feet – hoping that the smile might at least calm him down some.

“My Dad’s meeting with Mr Gojo tonight,” Yuji eventually blurts. Without Megumi in class to tamper down some of his more bombastic nature, Yuji’s voice pitches and wavers. “I’m-- Mr Gojo doesn’t care about grades, but my Dad’s like, ‘you should apply yourself more, you have it in you’ and . . . and I guess I’m worried?” He brings a finger to his chin, dwelling on the thought. The way he says it, it’s almost like he’s not usually aware of the idea of ‘worry’ – oh, to be a twelve year old boy!

“I know,” you say, after a proper time has elapsed to make Yuji think you’ve really dwelt on the situation. You reach into your own bag to pull out the carefully prepared lunch you have in there – you could go to the staff-room, but honestly, you’re still feeling a bit wobbly after last night’s events and you don’t want to go around into the hum of people who’ll gather you up into bubbles of small talk. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m sitting in on the meeting too.” You hope your smile is reassuring. “It’s not going to be all doom and gloom, I promise.”

That actually . . . does seem to soothe Yuji.

“My grades are really bad,” he says. “I just . . . I’m not smart, y’know? Megumi knows all this stuff, and I’m just . . . dumb.”

“Being good at school stuff isn’t everything,” you say to Yuji. “You’ve got your own talents. Look at you on the sports field!” He blushes in the way young boys do when they’re being complimented by anybody, a kind of awkward ‘oh, shucks, don’t make me think that I’m good at anything’. You smile. “I’m sure your Dad understands that too.”

“Oh, he does!” Yuji’s eyes widen. You feel a little lock around your chest loosen, just a bit. There’s hero worship clear in Yuji’s eyes now. “He just thinks I should live up to my . . . what’s he call it? Full potential!” He twists his lip, and then leans in, conspiratorially. “He doesn’t like Mr Gojo. He doesn’t think he’s serious.”

Despite yourself, your lips curve into a smile. You aren’t going to trash talk your colleague to a kid that you’re in charge of, but all of the other staff just seem to roll their eyes and let Satoru Gojo get on with whatever he’s doing because apparently he was a prodigy at college or something. It’s nice to know at least someone is on your side, even if you’ll hopefully only ever see him once or twice during your whole year here.

“Don’t worry,” you say to Yuji. “I’ll try and handle it. Now, you should go! All the other boys look like they’re about to play a game of football--”

Yuji’s eyes brighten and he grins, turning away immediately, mind quickly flitting to something more pressing. He shouts a goodbye and a thank you to you even as he’s racing out of the door, almost too fast to be believed.

2.

Kento Nanami (Itadori is his ex-wife’s name, he tells you with a sigh, but the name that Yuji was born with and he’s reluctant to have it changed) is very obviously a businessman, in a well-pressed grey suit and a navy shirt, a yellow tie tight to his throat. He’s wearing suspenders beneath the jacket, an expensive watch on his wrist, and a pair of small glasses perched on a sharp nose. A solemn face, sculpted jaw. He has cheekbones that you think could cut fucking diamonds into pieces, a wave of carefully styled blonde hair over a proud forehead--

What the fuck is going on at this school that it seems like all of the dads are so hot? You do your level best not to look at him too much, as Gojo introduces you and he shakes your hand. He looks at you with his eyes narrowed just a touch; you think he’s trying to get the measure of you, and whether you’re just going to be here to back up Gojo. There’s an air of tiredness to this man that suggests he will not take any of your colleague’s nonsense, and that thought bolsters you when he puts down his briefcase and neatly folds his hands on his lap, looking from you to Gojo.

“I want to talk about Yuji’s grades,” he says, “and how we can help him improve them.”

You like him already. The way he says ‘we’ instead of ‘you’ – the withering gaze that he sets on Gojo, as the white-haired man stretches his arms out above him.

“I told you on the phone,” Gojo says. “They’re just grades--”

“Grades that will follow Yuji throughout his career in this school, and eventually to high school, and eventually to college,” Nanami’s voice is very sure of itself, cutting through Gojo with ease. “I just want to ensure that he has the best chance possible. I want to make sure he’s living up to himself.”

Gojo – fucking Gojo – stifles a yawn behind his hand, and you see that Nanami’s hand flexes on his thigh (wow, his hands are big). You cut across before the two of them can come to blows.

“Yuji’s a bright boy,” you say. “He just needs . . . a little extra help. Someone to sit with him and explain what’s going on, maybe just go over the material again.” You give Nanami a nervous smile. “He’s not the only one in the class, honestly. I-- Mr Gojo’s teaching methods can be--”

“Innovative—” (Gojo says).

“Erratic—” (Nanami says).

“Unusual,” you decide on, in the end, “and not every child is going to thrive.”

“He won’t let me ask them to move into Miss Utahime’s class,” Nanami says, wearily. “Yuji is very fond of Mr Gojo.”

(You know that, and so does Gojo; the white-haired man gives a cocky grin to both of you).

“I enjoy teaching Yuji,” you say. “He’s good-hearted, enthusiastic – he throws himself into everything he does.” Nanami’s tired eyes seem to brighten behind the glasses at the compliment to his son, his lips lifting at the corners in the briefest twitch of a smile.

“He does,” Nanami says, and it’s clear from his tone that he’s very proud of Yuji. You feel bad for thinking he might be the kind of pushy, demanding father that you’d been warned you may encounter in this profession. With Nanami in front of you, it’s clear he just wants the best for Yuji and is concerned that Gojo might not be that ‘best’. You can’t blame him. You often think Gojo behaves more like a child than half of the kids in the class. “Yes, those are all of his best qualities.”

You nervously shift your gaze to Gojo, who is waiting for your next move.

“I’d be happy to work with him,” you say, eventually. “Maybe set up some kind of . . . drop-in, for students having trouble with the work, over free periods? I won’t make them, of course, but . . . I think my methods and Mr Gojo’s are very different, Sir.”

Nanami’s shoulders relax just a touch. He stands, nodding, taking your hand to shake it.

“I don’t doubt it, Miss,” he says – and as he touches you, a frisson of electricity seems to pass between the two of you. His hands are big and surprisingly soft, and as he grasps your hand you can suddenly sense strength behind the grasp. You hope that your surprise doesn’t register in your face, as he turns and inclines his head slightly at Gojo (Gojo does not get a handshake, you do not fail to notice).

“I hope that it helps,” Nanami says, as he leaves. And honestly . . . you do too.

3.

Nanami asks to schedule a meeting with you, two weeks after you’ve begun working with some of the lower-achieving children in the class. Yuji’s grades have been improving, slowly and steadily – the boy looking at you with a grin when tests are handed back with letters far higher up in the alphabet than he’s used to getting.

“Ah, I can leave you to deal with that one,” Gojo says, grinning at you when he hears about it. “You’re the one working miracles, after all! I think Mr Nanami would just be displeased to see me sat with you, and I’m not gonna complain about not having to deal with a guy like that!”

You’re inclined to agree. So you watch Gojo leave that afternoon blithely, like he hasn’t got a care in the world – his bag is full of essays that need to be marked over the weekend, but somehow you think you’ll have a stack pressed into your own hands on Monday morning, more than a little crumpled, as Gojo insists you should get used to doing some marking yourself.

You wait for Nanami with your head in a book, steadfastly ignoring Gojo’s desk and sitting by your own table in the corner of the classroom instead. Last time you were alone with a student’s father in this room, you got to know that desk far too intimately.

Nanami is exactly on time, the second hand of the clock just ticking past the twelve as he knocks on the door and you call for him to come in. Gojo does have an office, and he’s said you can use that if you want – but the few times you’ve been in Gojo’s office, you’ve been overwhelmed by the chaotic mess that the man surrounds himself with. The classroom, if nothing else, at least looks peaceful.

Nanami sits across your table, well-mannered and polite, as you put your book down and smile.

“You wanted to talk about how Yuji’s doing?” You ask him. “It’s only been two weeks, but I think we can already see quite a bit of improvement--”

“Yes,” he says. “I think we can.”

Nanami does not heap you with praise; you get the impression that he’s not the kind of man who heaps anybody with praise. You get the impression he’s the kind of man who gives you an approving look, a pat on the shoulder, a nod – you find that you’re craving that approval yourself, looking at him across from you.

“I look at his homework sometimes,” Nanami says. “He’s getting a lot more of it himself, now. Not pulling his hair out at the dining table. You’re . . . you’re really doing a very good job, you know.”

Your insides fizz at the compliment. Gojo doesn’t give them out, either – but you’re the kind of person who occasionally needs to be told they’re doing the right thing, in order to motivate them to carry on. Nanami’s compliment carries a weight in your heart that lodges there like a secret.

You can’t remember the last time someone said you were doing a good job.

You and Nanami talk through the grading rubric, the other topics that are set to be covered before the end of term – how you’re trying to get Gojo to be a little more academic in his lessons, but it’s not working. You mention that lots of the other kids seem to be thriving under having a chance to go back over the material that your mentor occasionally skips and side-steps around, imparting his knowledge in his own particular way. Thoughts of Gojo make your mind swim with fatigue.

You hadn’t realised, until you started talking about it, but you also can’t remember your mind not being consumed by thoughts of your work at any point in the last few weeks. You’re always worrying about something; your mind always rushing from one possible bad outcome to the next. The kids, your training, Gojo, the school, the heavy weight of choosing a career where the next generation depends on you--

“You look tired,” Nanami says, his face twisted in sympathy. “Have you been getting enough sleep?”

You haven’t, really – thoughts of the class, and your work, and whether you’re even cut out for this as a career have been haunting you more and more recently, as you watch Gojo stumble irresponsibly from day to day. You feel like you get home, do some work for the next day, go to sleep, and immediately go to work again with nothing in between. You look at Nanami, who’s all concern, and you know you shouldn’t, but--

“I’m just getting stressed from everything happening all at once,” you say, forcing yourself to smile. “I have a lot of assessments coming up, reports I should be writing, reports that are written about me. Ah, those ones-- those are by Mr Gojo--”

“Ahh,” he looks incredibly sympathetic at that one.

“There’s just,” you falter. “A lot. And if I don’t come to work feeling my best and supporting them all, I feel like I’m letting the kids down, but I also just feel kind of bone-weary aching all of the time—”

Nanami’s hand reaches across the table, taking ahold of yours. His palms are warm and rough, and the thumb that rubs soothing circles against the base of your own is comforting. You sigh, eyelids half flickering closed.

“I shouldn’t have said anything to you,” you murmur, the small moment of intimacy (when you’ve spent the last two weeks feeling like you’re lurching from place to place and nobody is paying attention) sending a much-needed hit of comfort to the marrow of your bones. “You shouldn’t have to listen to my problems.”

Nanami’s lips tilt.

“I’d say it’s the least I could do,” he says, drily, “after everything you’ve done for Yuji – and after you’ve had to deal with Mr Gojo.” The look he gives you is quietly private, a shared in-joke between the two of you that makes you smile in response. His response almost makes you forget that he’s touching you, and though the touch is innocuous, you also know it’s unprofessional--

You stare at his hand on yours. It’s the same arm that he wears his expensive wristwatch on, and the sleeve of his suit jacket has ridden up to reveal just a hint of the shape beneath, a prominently veined wrist. Your throat goes dry looking at it, as you think of how strong he had seemed that time he’d shook your hand--

He’s looking at where the two of you are touching, too – a faint spot of red fading in high on his cheekbones. He coughs, awkward, but doesn’t move his hand. He swallows.

“You’re very pretty, you know,” Nanami says, and your body seems to flood with heat. You should say something about how inappropriate that is, thank him for coming to see you and the sweet words he’d said about how you were helping Yuji along, but somehow you can’t bring yourself to do it when he’s looking at you like that. “It sounds very hypocritical coming from me, because anyone who knows me will tell you that I don’t get enough of it myself– but you should rest more. Relax.”

You can imagine him ramrod straight behind a desk, eyes narrowed behind spreadsheets and numbers. You can definitely imagine him tired and drooping, working too hard. You smile again, helplessly, the look apologetic. You’re not very good at things like that.  

“You look stiff,” he says. “Here--”

He stands. You’d forgotten how tall he was, the breadth of him – he unbuttons his jacket neatly, laying it over the back of the chair. Without that, the width of his shoulders is really apparent. You don’t realise you’re staring until he makes a little noise, a ‘hmph’ of amusement, eyes not meeting yours, thumbs unbuttoning his cuffs and pushing the sleeves up to his elbows.

He’s behind you.

“I’ve been told I’m good at this,” he says. “Big hands, I suppose?”

You’re about to ask him what he’s doing when those same big hands are suddenly on your shoulders, the same thumbs that were just rubbing tender circles onto your hand digging into your shoulder-blades in a massage that you feel down to your toes. You don’t realise you’ve let out a noise and relaxed back into the massage until Nanami lets out a low hum that you think is mirth.

The noise you make as he works out that persistent knot in the back of your neck is near-on pornographic, and both of you know it – heat rushing to your face, Nanami clearing his throat. If somebody walking by had heard that – if they came into the classroom, to see you getting a massage from Yuji’s father--

How do you keep getting into these situations? Nobody warned you about this part of working in a school. Why do his hands feel so fucking good on you, fingers digging into your skin – you moan again, rolling back into his touch.

There’s a clipped quality to his voice when he speaks;

“Wait a second.” Your eyes flutter open as his hands leave you, watching in distress as he walks to the door. If you’re expecting him to leave, you’re surprised when what actually happens is that he twists the lock, so nobody can walk in on the two of you doing something so. . . incongruous with both the classroom around you and the knowledge of what exactly the relationship between you is.

He gives you another one of those half-smiles and you feel a familiar throb in your lower half. Oh, this is unfair – he’s so handsome, so unruffled, so gentle as he takes back his position behind you and touches you again.

“This would feel better on your bare skin,” he murmurs, the words ghosting along you as a politely worded request, and obediently your fingers deftly unbutton your blouse without hesitation. This time, you’re glad that there’s no clatter of lost buttons on the floor – this time, you’re able to push it off your shoulders yourself. Nanami sighs as you let the fabric drop, pooling behind you in a crumpled mess. One of his fingertips traces your spine, raising gooseflesh on the sensitive skin.

“Don’t you have someone at home to do this for you?” He asks, voice soft and low like velvet, as he kneads the skin, tension draining out of you more and more with each passing minute. The question is worded carefully, but both of you know what he’s asking.

“Just me,” you say, as his hands slide forward, thumbs digging into your shoulders but fingers resting over your collarbone, his hands so big on you.

“Pity,” Nanami breathes, but it doesn’t sound like he’s particularly unhappy about it. Your breath catches as he moves from your shoulders, further, further, fingertips brushing the swell of your breast in your (sensible, today) bra. He leans forward, his lips against the shell of your ear. “You can tell me to stop if you want me to.”

“I don’t want you to,” you find yourself saying, and his thin lips curve into a smile that you feel.

“I’m glad,” he murmurs – and then, fingers diving beneath the cups of the bra, kneading the soft flesh, the plush of your  body. You’re relaxing bonelessly into his touch when one finger brushes your nipple, sending a frisson of electricity right to the place between your thighs. Your bra straps are slipped off your shoulders, a slight lean forward so he can unclip the thing and let it fall onto the ground. Nanami sighs, almost reverent – when he moves his hand from your chest, you feel their absence keenly, a soft noise of dismay escaping you.

“Pull your chair out,” he says. You do; the legs scraping across the floor. Nanami himself moves so he’s no longer behind you, coming around to the front – casually, unhurriedly lowering himself to his knees in front of you. He reaches up to his face and removes his glasses, laying them neatly on the table to one side of him.

His eyes drink you in and you find your skin prickling with heat. You should be embarrassed; you shouldn’t be here at all, actually, alone in your classroom (again!) with someone’s father (again!), willing to let them look at you and touch you and more (again!). But Nanami reaches in, touching you so gently, fingertips and thumbs delicate as feathers as he strokes over your breast and waist and stomach. As he leans forward and licks a slow, agonising lap over your nipple until it hardens and pebbles, your entire body thrumming with desire. As he sucks it into his mouth, teeth nipping just hard enough at the bud that your body lights on fire, before he kisses a line across your sternum to give the other nipple the same treatment.

He slides his hands past your waist, unbuttoning and unzipping your pencil skirt with one hand, the cotton pulled down over your thighs. Nanami sighs again, cupping your hips, nudging your stockinged knee with his cheek.

“You’re lovely,” he says, affectionate, and it feels so intimate that your heart beats too fast against your chest. “Can I--?” Hands against the sides of your underwear, sliding over you in a way that leaves hot trails of fire behind him. You should be embarrassed that he can clearly see the wet patch, the way the sodden fabric clings to the petals of your sex – but when he’s looking at you like that. . . You can’t make yourself feel it. You nod, sighing, lifting your hips from the seat of the chair to assist in the removal of that particular garment. A light touch on your inner thighs has you spreading your legs further for him, his eyes drinking in the slick folds, the needy glint of your wetness.

He brings his face closer, taking a long breath in, inhaling your scent. The wash of his breath across you on the exhale fans across the length of you, your clit aching with need to be touched, paid attention to. Nanami takes his time, though – your thighs are kissed, first, his lips lingering on the soft skin, suckling gentle love-bites into the flesh. Occasionally, the briefest flash of his teeth, scraping across the sensitive area – always followed by a soothe, a kiss, a lick. Every one of them makes your body bloom into warm needy desire; you can feel how wet you are, know it must be soaking the chair beneath you even before Nanami has used his mouth on you properly.

He huffs out a chuckle as you whine, your hips tilting towards his mouth.

“You want me to use my mouth?” He asks you, his tongue gently lapping at one of the places he’s kissed. “On you, sweetheart?”

“Mm—mmhmm,” you say, breathlessly, not entirely sure that your mind is able to form any coherent sentences with Nanami knelt between your thighs. He places a chaste kiss on the mound above your clit, pulling back.

“Use your words,” he encourages you. There’s a stern dominance to him; coated in fondness, yes, but . . . an order, nonetheless. “I can make you feel so good--”

“Please use your mouth on me,” you whimper, soft as a mouse. Your hand flexes onto the seat of the chair beneath your thighs, and Nanami smiles against your soaking cunt.

“Good girl,” he praises, like liquid honey – and when his tongue finally, finally makes contact with your sex, the other hand has no choice but to curl into his hair as you let out a needy mewl, all of the heat that’s been building up within you since the very first moment you laid eyes on Kento Nanami coming to a point in the crux of his lips and tongue lapping hungrily at your slick.

Your lashes flutter closed, your thighs trembling, as Nanami sates himself on the taste of you, making you relax helplessly into his talented mouth. He knows exactly what he’s doing; the flat, broad strokes against the folds of your cunt, the lower dip of his tongue as he flirts with stretching your hole open with it, the teasing flick of it as it dances, dallies with the idea of your swollen clit.

You can hear the wet sounds of him between your legs, suckling and kissing and licking and lapping – not all of it’s from your slickness, you know, but an embarrassing amount of it is. His tongue pushes into your hole, thrusting a few times, imitating the actions of fingers or cock – and your thighs flex, almost squeezing him between them, your fingers tugging on his hair with a soft squeal of surprise escaping you.

The noise just spurs him on. He fucks you on his tongue for a few more thrusts, before dragging the flat of the muscle through your folds, forcefully parting them (his mouth feels so hot, there), until he can reach the throb of your clit. He uses his tongue to roll the bud, swirling the tip of the muscle around it, drawing patterns over the place that all of your hot, desperate need is concentrated. Your other hand jerks into his hair too, your hips thrusting against his hungry mouth  as he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks. You almost white out for a minute over the sheer overwhelming sensation of Nanami’s lips sucking on you, the displacement of air – you’re panting out breathy, whimpering noises, Nanami groaning as he edges you further and further towards your peak.

Fingers on your inner thigh. Nanami’s index finger, liberally coating itself in your slick and Nanami’s spit, dragging down the length of you that isn’t currently being utterly ravaged by Nanami’s lips--

He pushes one lone finger into your entrance, and that pushes you over the edge.

Your walls flutter around him, sucking him deeper inside your plush walls. You bite so hard into your lower lip you think that you might bleed, but it only serves to quiet the moan that escapes you by a little. Nanami groans against you, pumping the finger, sucking on your clit, guiding you over the peaks and mounds of your orgasm as he continues to enjoy the taste of you gushing into his mouth, overwhelming with the syrupy sweet stickiness of just how good you taste.

He guides you, too – with careful, slowing licks, lazier pumps – through the weak aftershocks and trembles of your peak, as they come to a slowly twitching halt. Your eyes are glassy, lips swollen from bits, as he places another chaste kiss over your sensitive clit and pulls back. His finger pops out of you with a wet gush that makes you feel so embarrassed at your own neediness you can barely stand it, but between your thighs Nanami is straightening up, a smug glint to his tired eyes.

“There,” he murmurs, standing, drinking in your quivering body, the slick on your thighs, how dark and satisfied your eyes look as you gaze up at him, half-woozy from the pleasure. “Don’t you feel a little more relaxed, now?”

You’re afraid if you speak you will simply slur your words, your tongue feeling unfamiliar in your mouth. You try and focus on Nanami instead – unfairly tranquil, aside from the wet of his chin, the damp spot darkening his collar. He places the finger that was formerly buried inside you into his mouth, the glint of arousal on it consumed by him with a tilt of the head as if he’s savouring the taste.

You can’t help but notice that there’s an outline of something putting pressure on the fabric of his slacks, there, between his thighs – something that looks hard, and stiff, and uncomfortable. You blink at it through a hazy mind as Nanami goes leans over you, gently taking hold of your chin, checking that you’re alright.

“C-can I help with that?” You manage, only a little bit garbled. Nanami’s eyebrows raise in surprise, a light pink flush to his cheeks – what does he take you for? That you’d let him eat you out so well that your toes curl and then just let him leave without seeing to his own issues?

(It’s a confidence boost, honestly – knowing that he’s hard because of you. You know that this isn’t the kind of man who would fuck you on his tongue in his son’s classroom if he didn’t find you attractive, but still . . . Someone like Nanami, with those cheekbones and those lips and those shoulders, wanting somebody like you?)

“I-- ahh--” He seems nervous about it, a little flustered, clearly not expecting you to offer something like that – but then, you raise one hazy hand and gently pet his crotch through the fabric and he whistles through his teeth, the organ giving a welcoming throb beneath your hand. You swallow at how it responds, the size and heat of it.

“Please?” Plump lower lip caught between your teeth. “I’d like to repay the favour.”

He swallows, raising a hand to loosen his tie. You see the bob of his throat as he moves, pulling out the chair he was sat on before, parting his own knees.

“I’d like that,” he says, and that’s all of the encouragement you need to sink from the chair onto your shaking knees, half-crawl towards him until you’re situated between his thighs. Your hands reach up to his waist, undoing his belt buckle carefully. The heat of his cock radiates through the fabric, brushing against your arm as you undo the belt. As you undo the button. As you tug at the zipper, the noise of the teeth indecently loud. He sighs himself, a hand cupping your cheek. “You’re so pretty,” he says, repeating his earlier compliment. His eyes on your face make you feel hot and flushed, the way he watches you eagle-sharp as your smaller hands reach into his underwear to pull out his already hard cock.

He’s not as big as Toji was, but that doesn’t mean he’s not big. His cock is elegant, a light upward curve, the head ruddy pink and slick with precome – and as you lean forward and let your tongue trace the slit of it, as you taste that same precome in your mouth, he groans quietly. He brings the hand not on your cheek up to his mouth to muffle the noise, and you can’t help but pout.

“Please,” you say. “I want to hear you--”

A pause. He drops his hand, taking a chest-deep breath. His fingers slide across the apple of your cheeks – you know he must be able to sense how warm you are, how shameless and brazen you feel.

You give the head of his cock dainty kitten licks, getting used to feel of him – getting used to the soft breaths he keeps making, the way that the hand on your cheek moves to knit into your hair. You know you’re teasing him, but the way he looks down at you like you’re the one doing him a favour has you all giddy and light headed.

You envelope the head in your waiting mouth, tongue messily lapping at it. It’s been a long time since you’ve done something like this – judging from the sigh escaping Nanami’s lips, the light thrust of his hips, though, you’re not doing too bad of a job on it.

You take him a little further, willing your mouth to open wider. Your tongue is still moving against him sloppily – tracing the veins of his shaft, licking fat stripes where you can manage to get it around. You feel a trickle of drool escape your lips as you widen your mouth a bit more, so much you can feel a light ache in your jaw.

“Fuck,” Nanami breathes, deep and ragged. “Fuck, that’s a good girl.”

The praise just eggs you on further, makes you want to take him deeper – makes you want to win more noises said by that dark, low voice. You push too far and have to pull back a little, your makeup smearing (you’re glad you’d foregone a darker lipstick today), your eyes watering. But you’re determined, and after you’ve managed to draw a choked breath around the cock in your mouth, you’re back on it, kissing and sucking and licking as best you can. Every so often, Nanami will groan from above you, his hips jerking, the hand in your hair guiding you just a little to the left. The other hand comes to cradle your face, so tender and careful with you.

“You feel so good,” he says, soft, like he can barely believe where you are. “Your mouth is so good, sweetheart--”

The flat of your tongue is dragged over the slit, his taste flooding your senses. You squeeze your thighs together, the friction thrilling even considering how slick your cunt still is (you’re grateful that your skirt is dark, because you know you must have soaked through your underwear).

His hips are moving more regularly now, but you can tell that he’s still holding back – that he doesn’t want to roughly fuck your throat, though he easily could. You look up at him with your eyes dark and wide, your lashes trembling, trying to get across that it’s alright for him to do that without having to stop hungrily licking and sucking at his cock. He sees your gaze, your lips wrapped around him, your cheeks hollowed in your attempts to impress, and he breathes out a shaking exhale.

“Is it really okay?” He asks you. “I don’t want to hurt you--”

You hum your affirmative around his cock and his eyes roll back into his head for just a moment, groan escaping his parted lips again, as he begins to rock his hips into your mouth. You gag around it at first – so big, so thick, even though he’s not going that fast yet – but as he begins to pick up his pace, your mouth gets used to moving in tandem with his thrusts and the tugs on your hair.

The ache in your jaw begins to be pleasant; you begin to feel like you’re meant to have it open that wide, that the bump of his cockhead against the back of your throat is right and perfect. His face is flushing, his breath getting shaky – whistling in his chest.

His chest. You stare at the bare collar above the buttons of his shirt, the lean shadows of his collarbone – you think, judging by the broadness of his shoulders, he’s probably built beneath there. You’d love to find out. You’d love to be somewhere other than in the classroom with this man, somewhere where you could learn his body by heart, where the floor beneath your knees isn’t quite so hard--

“Fuck,” he hisses, fingers tightening so hard that you groan, your throat vibrating around his cock. “Sweetheart, my good girl, I’m gonna--”

You hear the warning in his voice and you suck harder, swirl your tongue faster, coaxing him forward – his abdomen flexes under the shirt, his cock juddering in your mouth, pulsing as your mouth suddenly fills with the hot, wet, salty and unmistakable taste of Nanami’s come--

You keep sucking. You keep licking, swallowing pump after pump, draining forth every single drop of his release that you can until he’s shuddering and his cock is softening, his head thrown over the back of the chair to reveal the tempting column of his throat.

He’s taking deep breaths, great heaving ones that his shoulders move in time with, as the last few thunderbolts of his release travel through his body and he groans in the pleasured way that someone who has orgasmed their worries away does.

Nanami’s hand in your hair eases, his breaths evening out from the shakes and groans. His fingers are quiet and affectionate, as you pull back, swallowing the final few drops of his release. He looks down at you with those intense eyes half-lidded, his face briefly free of lines and stress and worry. He sighs, hand diving into the jacket still hung on the chair behind him – when the hand emerges, he’s holding a handkerchief, that he brings up to your face like a lover.

Tenderly, he wipes a bead of his come from the corner of your mouth. The action is so warm, so fond, that you can barely breathe for looking up at him. You feel like you’re knelt at some kind of altar – that Nanami had prayed to you, and now you are responding with your own supplication.

“Are you alright?” He asks you. “Your knees? Your mouth?” He’s so gorgeous; unfairly picked out under the classroom lights, like he doesn’t belong here at all. In another world, he’s avenging like an angel with a weapon in his hand. Now, he’s softly rumpled with his shirt unbuttoned and one of his suspenders fallen down his shoulder, his knees spread wide.

“Yes,” you breathe. He smiles again – he does not grin. His mouth is just a light uptilt, as he leans forward and brushes his lips over your own.

“Good girl,” he murmurs again, the words sending another shiver down your spine. “Do you need some help getting dressed?”

You rise onto unsteady legs and Nanami is there, supporting you carefully, rising with you. He rescues your skirt, your bra – deft fingers re-doing buttons, catching eyes with hooks, zipping up until you look – if not immaculate – at least presentable. Someone who had seen you this morning would probably recognise that your skirt is creased and your blouse is crumpled, that your hair is falling around your face--

Nanami’s fingers capture those strands too, tucking them back behind your ear, smoothing them out. Every single sweep and caress of his fingers makes you feel like you’re about to break into pieces from how soft you feel, how cherished. It’s a stark difference to how you had felt after Toji had swung out of your classroom, leaving you prone and leaking his come.

He leaves you, after you’ve regained your balance, to get your bag and coat, to grab the book you had been reading before this meeting had commenced – and he sets himself to rights with a calm, assured aura. If someone looked closely at him, you think perhaps they’d notice the tie not quite as tight, the hair not quite as neatly swept from his brow – you yourself can barely take your eyes off him. Is there something in the water in this town?

He grasps his briefcase, clips his glasses into the top pocket of his suit jacket instead of placing them back on his nose. His entire being seems to have lost tension, his eyes not quite as tired, his shoulders not quite as strained. As he finished, he comes to stand beside you – an arm gallantly curving around your waist just loosely enough that the touch could be read as friendly and not romantic. As the two of you walk across the classroom, he says quietly;

“You really should relax, you know. You don’t have anything to worry about. Yuji adores you, and I’m sure the rest of the children do too.”

(Your cheeks heat, the compliment warm and convincing in the sonorous bass of Nanami’s voice).

“Even Gojo isn’t permanent,” he says. “Anybody would be lucky to end up with you.” A cough. “That’s . . . as a teacher and in other ways.”

He pauses at the door, unlocking it with a final click that feels like he is saying that this little adventure has truly come to its natural end. His eyes linger affectionately on your face, a brief touch of hesitation colouring his features – before, once more, he leans in and brushes his lips against yours with a feather-soft touch that has you gasping in surprise against his mouth. The hand not on the briefcase takes your own hand, fingers entangling, and if you had thought your face was warm before, you’re quickly taught that you didn’t know what heat was.

He draws back a little breathlessly.

“I hope you’ll continue working with Yuji,” he says, sincerely. “And perhaps, if it’s agreeable to you-- perhaps we could schedule a catch-up meeting in a few weeks? So I may see. . . how things are progressing?”

“Of course, Sir,” you say, words very breathy.

When you get home tonight, and probably for the next few weeks, you’ll take a really good look at the grading rubric. You know. For the kids. Not because of Nanami’s sharp cheekbones and wicked tongue and the glint that had been in his eye when he had pressed his mouth against your heated core – not because of how his cock had felt heavy and thick in your mouth, and how it would feel pressed inside of you--

Nope. Not at all.

Definitely for Nanami’s son.

[taetaespeaches]

“I know it’s 4 am but it’s snowing.”

yoongi x reader (oc) genre: fluff word count: 1.7K

a/n: Ok, so once again, this started as a 900 word fic and here we are lol. My editing stage is such a mess. But here’s just a little slice of life look into Min and Kid during a gentle December snow at 4 am. I hope you all enjoy, and thank you for reading! :))

HOVERING over your boyfriend, you audibly cooed at how cute he was when he scrunched his nose like that. Placing another kiss to his plush cheek, you giggled at how his face contorted even more.

“Yoongi,” you whispered again, pressing three consecutive kisses to the center of his cheek. “Baby,” you whispered, raising the volume slightly. “Wake up.”

Finally, a groan left the man, only making you increase your efforts as you flattened your body on top of his, kissing along his jaw. “Hey,” you whisper-shouted. “Min,” you continued. “Wake up, please.”

“What?” He asked sleepily, shoving at your body in an attempt to get you off of him.  

“Get up,” you told him, nuzzling your nose against the side of his neck.

“Why on earth would I do that?” He asked, fully aware that although he didn’t know the exact time, it was way too early to consider getting out of bed.

“Because,” you whined, dragging the word out as you popped your head up, looking down at him just in time to see him peel his eyes open reluctantly, blinking sleep away.

When his eyes focused on you, he pulled a feigned glare, you giggling just before kissing the tip of his nose. “What time is it?” He asked, his arms lazily wrapping around your body, his hands flattening on your lower back.

“Ok hear me out,” you started, Yoongi’s groan cutting you off.

“What time is it?” He asked again, you staring at him trying to ask him through your expression to give you a moment to explain. “What time is it?” he pushed impatiently.

“It’s 4 am, but-” you tried to continue.

“Kid, what the fuck?” He asked, craning his neck to look at the alarm clock to check for himself. Seeing the time 4:02 displayed in big red letters, he directed his gaze back to you, eyes wide and confused. “It’s 4 am.”

“I know it’s 4 am, but it’s snowing,” you pouted, Yoongi looking at you with a straight face, an impromptu staring match ensuing. “Yoongi,” you whined, the man sighing deeply. “I love snow,” you added.

“I love sleep,” he retorted, you shooting him a glare.

“Min,” you whined, your boyfriend groaning as he pushed against your body. You both knew he’d relent, but the man was very reluctant to crawl out of his warm bed to watch some snow fall to the ground. “Yoongi,” you whined further, making him chuckle as he finally successfully shoved you off of him, you landing on the bed with a huff.

“Stop whining,” he told you as he tossed the blankets off of him, purposely throwing them over your head.

Digging your way out of the comforter, you looked up at him questioningly. “What are you doing?” You asked, watching as he scratched his messy bed hair, turning around slowly to look at you.

“Are you serious?” He asked, you holding back a smile in realization. “It’s snowing,” he said simply, your grin breaking through as you jumped out of the bed and tossed your arms around his neck, the man huffing as he wrapped an arm around your back. “I’ll get some drinks,” he told you just before you pressed your lips to his excitedly.

“I love you,” you mumbled against his mouth, Yoongi chuckling as he kissed you back. Pulling away, you locked your eyes with his. “So much.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he smiled shyly. “Go set up the living room,” he shooed you away, you smiling beyond fondly as you followed his direction, starting toward the living room, but looking back at him with a wide grin. “What do you want now?” He asked in feigned annoyance.

“I love you,” you told him once more, causing Yoongi to let out a light scoff.

“Love you too,” he mumbled with an adorable gummy grin, causing you to return the soft smile before heading down the hallway.

Stopping in front of the glass patio door, you looked outside at the white powder that was already building up. There was a sense of peace you felt watching the snow fall, especially at 4 am before the rest of the city had woken up. Your focus on the weather was interrupted however at the sound of ceramic mugs clinking together in the kitchen. Turning around, you spotted Yoongi sleepily shuffling around as he prepared some warm beverages for you both, the purr of the coffee pot sounding through the quiet apartment.

You smiled to yourself at the adorable man, his hair messy and his eyes puffy from the sleep that still filled them. He was absolutely not ready to be awake, but you appreciated his efforts to entertain you, and you only felt slightly guilty for waking him so early.

As you pulled the cushions of the sofa, along with the throw pillows and blankets, your chest was full of love for the man while you built a small little sitting area in front of the patio door. It wasn’t much, just a few cushions on the floor, but you decided it was good enough for you and Yoongi.  

Nodding a single time at the simple set up, you started toward the kitchen to help Yoongi with the drinks. At the sound of you approaching him, he looked up with wide eyes, watching you carefully as you got closer.

“Go sit down,” he nodded toward the living room, “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Ignoring the considerate comment, you walked straight into the man, wrapping your arms around his waist. Yoongi chuckled, his breath tickling the side of your face before he enclosed his own arms over your shoulders.

“What’s this for?” Your boyfriend asked just before his lips made contact with your temple, leaving a small kiss.

“Just ‘cause,” you replied, sighing against his body, Yoongi’s lips curving into a smile as they rested against the side of your forehead. “You’re sweet and I love you,” you added, Yoongi pulling away slightly to look at you.

“You’ve told me that,” he pointed out, you shooting him a playful glare.

“I’m telling you again,” you told him with a bit of sass in your tone, Yoongi chuckling lightly at your attitude.

“I love you,” he replied, softly and genuinely. “Now grab your coffee, let’s go watch the snow, you brat.”

Grinning happily, you clutched your mug and started toward the living room, Yoongi following close behind with his own coffee, his other hand gently settled on your lower back.

Halting in front of the pitiful but good enough sitting area, Yoongi stood shoulder to shoulder with you, inspecting your work carefully. Peering at his face, you watched as a small smile curved up on his lips.

Without a word, the man took a seat on the cushions but not without letting an old man style groan, leaving you to stare down at him with an amused smile. “It’s really building up out there,” he noted as he looked out the glass door, taking a sip of his coffee. Slowly glancing up at you, he watched at you for a moment, you gazing down at him curiously. “What?” He asked, his jaw slightly slack, his eyes wide and adorably innocent.

“You ok there, Grampa Min?” You teased, Yoongi biting back a smile as he continued looking up at you. “Is the little bed thing ok?” You asked, Yoongi reaching his hand out for yours.

“It’s perfect,” he said simply with a small nod, your mouth widening into a smile as you placed your hand in his grasp, following his lead and sitting next to him when he lightly tugged on it.

“Good,” you replied happily, catching Yoongi’s smile out of the corner of your eye. “I’d hate for my shitty bed making skills to be the cause of your sore back, Gramps,” you poked further fun at him, the man scoffing though he continued to grin.

Nuzzling yourself under the blankets, you situated them over Yoongi’s lap, both of you sitting with your legs crossed as you stared outside contently. A few moments passed by before he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him, triggering you to rest your head against his arm.

“Thank you for getting up with me,” you told him with an amused smile, the man groaning teasingly. “You’re a honey boy.”

“Of course I am,” he playfully agreed, you chuckling in response.

Sighing contentedly, you moved your face to leave a light kiss to the man’s shoulder overtop his shirt. “It’s so pretty,” you breathed out, looking out at the steadily falling snow. A couple of inches had settled on the ground of the patio, and the remaining stems of the black irises in your garden were coated lightly in white powder.  

“The prettiest,” he whispered, his lips lightly brushing against the top of your head. The comment had you lifting your head to look at him, finding him staring at you with an amused grin. A breathy chuckle spilled from your lips, the man’s smile widening.

“Oh my god,” you shook your head fondly, “you’re so cheesy.”

“Honey boy antics,” he replied, you giggling as you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his shoulder as it shook lightly in his laughter. Looking back up at him slowly, he was watching you carefully, his gaze soft, his plush cheeks even softer as he beamed at you.

“You’re so soft, Min,” you told him, utterly smitten with the man, locking your eyes with his as he became slightly bashful under your stare.

“Always for you,” he replied adorably, leaning forward to capture your lips with his. The man was always soft for you, no one would dare deny that when it was always so obviously written in his every affection for you. But it felt particularly special in that moment. It was special to be alone with him, the snow gracefully falling from the sky, greeting the earth in its silent accumulation as the rest of the world slept.

Though you and Yoongi were both aware that you’d soon fall asleep on the living room floor and wake up sore and drowsy, it was well worth the stiff necks and sleepy day ahead. It was just you and him and the wintery landscape, and you were in love and happy and content, and so was Yoongi. And that was all that mattered.

[razorblade180-heated]

Warmth

[Smut! Also I’m aware of the canon, and? Read my tags]

Nice guys finish last, a common phrase tossed around to any dude with dipshit friends that clearly fumble their way into relationships. At least that’s what Ilia thought. She also wondered why it was just guys? It’s not like they’re the only ones striking out or being told to act rude. She should know. Unfortunately, she’s been both the worry wart, and the dipshit. You would think romance had clear instructions by now. After all, love comes for everyone given enough time. Even her, but there lies the problem. Ilia couldn’t admit it. Not to the only person that it matters to. Ilia could fight grimm, be a terrorist, a good person, and stand outside a hotel room an entire kingdom away with luggage held tight like she is now, but for the love of everything not annoying, Ilia couldn’t tell one nice guy that he makes her feel like she’s walking on air.

It had been several months since her and Sun got a little more serious. The emotional soul searching definitely took time, and every choice felt like do or die for her, but Ilia was finally in a place emotionally that truly felt good. Most of that was thanks to Kali. The woman was always there to lend an ear. All that searching though put several things temporarily on a back burner. One of those things was visiting Sun. Expenses to Vacou was one thing, but Ilia didn’t want to visit him while feeling completely out of sorts. It wouldn’t be fair to him. That didn’t stop Sun from blowing up her scroll with facetime messages. That dork worked out a time zone schedule and everything. It was sweet; the kind Ilia wasn’t used to but definitely wanted more of. It had been far too long since she saw that cheeky monkey boy in person.

Ilia stared down the door as she psyched herself up. “Don’t be nervous. Dooooon’t be nervous.” She muttered to herself. She finally knocked on the door and waited in brief suspense as the door swung open aggressively. Ilia was effortlessly pulled into the room and more importantly, into a hug. It took her a moment to realize she was less than an inch away from pecks and wrapped in warm arms. She tilted her head up to see shiny white teeth smiling at her.

“Hey Ilia. Have a safe trip?”

Her freckles turned a little pink and she pouted. “We’re skipping over the fact that you just surprised me? How’d you know it was at the door?”

“Ummm you were mumbling out there for a few minutes.”

“Oh…” Ilia lost the nerve to look at him and choose to hide her face in his chest. How much did he possibly hear!? It was too embarrassing to think about. “How’ve ya been?”

“Oh ya know, missions. Scarlet had a party yesterday, obviously things got out of hand.”

“Fire?”

“No it was actually bandits. He didn’t help fight. Him and Neptune song Toxic while Sage and I handled everything.”

Ilia looked back up at Sun. “That sounds awesome! Man, I should’ve booked an overnight flight!”

“Yeah we could’ve used another fighter.”

“We both know I would’ve been drunk onstage with them.”

“Listen, you could’ve let me dream.” Sun said, laughing gently. It was criminal to be this endearing. Ilia wasn’t sure how Neptune or anybody could deal with this brightness so easily. However, Ilia would love to learn.

“Uhh, Sun? You’re still hugging me.” Ilia stammered.

The boy's face turned a little red and he quickly let go. “Whoops! Hehe, my bad. Got a little carried away.”

“That’s nothing new.” She jabbed at him. “Wearing your heart on your sleeve is what you do best.” Ilia stepped further into the room. “Or maybe it’s picking rooms…”

The hotel room had a glass door on the other side that led to a balcony to look out at Vacou’s desert beauty. A huge couch was smack dab in the middle of the room that faced a wide screen. Sun clearly brought his own things. Wires from the bottom went down the wall and connected to a game system with tons of things to play and watch. Ilia walked to the back of the room to a door that led to another big room. This one had dressers, a door that most likely led to the bathroom, and a massive bed that looked softer than a cloud and covered in pillows.

The thought of sleeping in it was both heavenly l, and a little too much to deal with. It was a big bed, and the only bed. Ilia jumped a little as she felt Sun poke her back to get her attention.

“You alright?”

“How much did this all cost!? This is Atlas grade stuff right here.”

Sun folded his arms and smiled with confidence. “Funny you say that. This is the room Weiss gets when she’s here. I asked very nicely for her to let me use it. The missions I went on for the company definitely helped with a discount.”

“Discount?”

“Yeah Weiss said she isn’t paying for room service.” Sun let out a sad sigh. “Weiss said it’s the only way we wouldn’t order nothing but lobster.”

Ilia was soul crushed. Weiss was right but that didn’t make it better. Lobster is great. “I don’t blame her, but I’m offended. I was gonna go all out.”

“Well now you can do that, but on a budget.” Sun walked back to grab Ilia’s bags. “Feel free to take a shower. I still have things I wanna set up.”

“Alright, thanks.” She grabbed her things from him and went to the bathroom. It was much bigger than she expected. Ilia was used to a bathroom the size of a closet. Not another room! It was half the size of the bedroom and magnificent. The entire thing was tile and the tub was deep. With a removal shower head and other things Ilia couldn’t begin to know what they were for.

“Really glad he didn’t pay full price for anything.” A heat rose to her cheeks. Sun totally would’ve paid full price if it came down to it. Nobody is worth this much effort. Then again, Kali would beg to differ. She would think going all out would be just enough. How Ghira surpassed all expectations is beyond her.

xxxx

Sun finally finished his set up of movies and games and was ready for the hard part. Not screwing things up. Hanging out came naturally to him but it was much harder when he could tell Ilia had a lot on her mind. Maybe he was trying too hard. Should he ask her about it, or give her space. Months to think about this and he let it slip through his fingers. “I wonder if she’s reading me as much as I am her? Huh, maybe I should stick to being straight forward?”

“How’s the set up going?” Ilia called from behind him.

Sun started to turn around. “I’m finish-fin...umm.” He had lost his train of thought. Ilia had derailed it completely by walking around in a white bathrobe with her hair down. Sun’s eyes drifted to her toned legs and didn’t leave them.

Ilia noticed the distraction and blushed. “Ahem!” Sun snapped out of the daze, embarrassed and rubbing his head in embarrassment.

“Sorry, caught me by surprise.” Not that he was complaining. By any means, and his tone made that very clear to her.

Ilia sat down on the couch and carefully kept her legs crossed. “Don’t get used to this. My hair always ruins my clothes when it’s wet so I’m letting it dry is all.

“You know I never noticed, but your hair and size is kinda like Weiss. It’s kinda fortunate. Don’t think that bathrobe would work for me.

“You’re shirtless all the time. All you need is a towel.” She looked passed him to see his setup. “Games or movies first?”

“Choice is all yours. I’m perfectly fine owning you in all of these games.” He boasted. Ilia wasn’t gonna take that at all.

“Famous last words, banana breath. I’m about to be eating lobster and kicking you but for the rest of the evening! Pass me a controller.”

Sun laughed confidently and tossed her one. She seemed to be in a better mood than before. Deep conversation can wait. Now was the time to enjoy each other’s reunion. “Winner decides the movie.”

Ilia grinned. “You’re on!”

xxxx

“Rematch!” Ilia declared, for the tenth time. She was not about to admit defeat and watch Speed Racer. Though at this point the amount of food she ate would probably knock her out before the halfway point.

“I think you gotta accept the loss here. I don’t know why you thought you’d beat me in a fighting game finally. Should’ve chosen racing.”

“Whatever. It’s no fun if a bet is one sided. I totally would have won though.” Ilia let out a sigh and handed her controller over, shooting him an evil look at his victory. Sun could only smile. “That’s a weird response to a glare.”

“Can’t help it. I’m just really glad you’re having a good time with me.”

That was sudden. Ilia blinked twice then began to play with her hands. “Why wouldn’t I…?”

He shrugged. “Earlier you looked a bit spaced out. Like your mind was somewhere else. Couldn’t tell why. I almost asked why but you know, trying to be better at letting things go at their own pace. Being a leader doesn’t mean I have the most tact hehe.”

That was an understatement. It never mattered what was happening, if Sun was a part of it then he was all in. Helping, fighting, everything. True, it made things feel a little overwhelming at times; but it was a pleasant change for people like Ilia. Having a person that was always in your corner was a stark contrast from her time before the White Fang and during it. Blake wasn’t even always around. Not that it was a problem. But Ilia would be lying if she said she didn’t used to wish that would be the case between her and Blake. Oh well. Life goes on.

Ilia leaned closely to Sun, then flicked his forehead hard.

“Ow!” He flinched.

“Blame yourself. Your brain needed a jumpstart apparently. I could’ve sworn I told you not to hold back around me once upon a time. Be greedy, stay outspoken. Even if I seem sensitive about it.” Ilia knew she had a bad habit of putting up walls. That’s why she was thankful for her friends. The only tactful person was Blake. Everybody else would just try crashing right through any wall. A crude approach, but Ilia knew herself well enough to admit she doesn’t leave people many other options. “What did you wanna ask me?” Being caught up in lecturing Sun, Ilia had legitimately forgotten her little crisis outside the door. Knots in her stomach hit hard the moment she remembered. “Me and my big mouth!” Ilia screamed, internally.

“You were outside my door for a good while. Then it took you some time to process the hug. I wasn’t sure if you were worried about seeing me or if there’s something in general that had you distracted. Heh, I guess you can say I got worried about you worrying. So, what was on your mind.”

“Oh you know, things…” her voice trailed off and it was hard to look at him again. Why was this so hard! Ilia hated this. Confessions weren’t anything new to her, and yet Ilia genuinely felt scared to even work up to it. Her skin changed between gray and pink constantly as the room went painfully silent. Sun was waiting for an answer and Ilia was left with her throat feeling dry. She came all the way here to get this off her chest in earnest and now it felt like she was being crushed flat by it.

Ilia continued to be mad at herself for saying nothing as she felt Sun take her hand and rub his thumb across it. Amazing how simple touches like this could change the atmosphere. Against his, Ilia hadn’t realized she had been shaking. She looked up to see Sun staring at her, concerned while remaining patient. It wasn’t fair, those eyes. The way they built her up and disarmed her all at once. Ilia never wanted them off her.

“Take your time with it.” Sun said with reassurance. It was easy to see he was anxious as well from the way his tail couldn’t keep still behind him.

“I...it’s….” she gripped his hand tighter. “I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of this. Us. I’m scared that if I tell you exactly what this means to me, it’ll end. I don’t know how or why but I know no matter how badly I wanna say the words I want you to hear…” she holds her head down and clenches her robe. “I probably sound so stupid right now huh?”

“I wouldn’t say so. Listen, I know that no matter what I say you’re gonna beat yourself up about this. Me being understanding or not, wasn’t gonna change that fact; and you know that I was going to understand.”

Ilia let out a small pity chuckle. Sun tilted her head up gently. Even with misty eyes, Ilia remained completely beautiful. “I don’t hear the words, but I’m smart enough to know they’re there. I haven’t said them, but do you think for a second you don’t know how you make me feel?” He placed her hand on his heart. Even he couldn’t escape the uneasiness of this situation. Sun could feel the heat go to his face and could do nothing but gently place his forehead against Ilia’s. “You know how I feel, right?”

The gray from her skin went away inch by inch, only leaving pink and red freckles. “Of course I do.” Her voice trembled. Their eyes didn’t remain sad, but switched to something equally intense. Pleading. Ilia’s expression softened. Her hand let go of her robe and found its way to Sun’s face. His own hands rested on her hips and he began leaning forward because of Ilia until she was on her back. The trembling didn’t stop from earlier but it was okay. She was okay.

“How many times have we’ve found ourselves like this?” She asked, rubbing his face.

“Not enough.” Sun whispered. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, so much. You...are beyond word to me.” Ilia couldn’t wait a moment longer. She closed her eyes and was met with Sun’s lips, tenderly pressing on her own. Ilia carefully bit his bottom lip as he pulled away, aiming for her exposed neck. Ilia let out a gasp at the contact. Her hands began rubbing up and down his back from the inside of his shirt. Her own legs instinctively parted in order to draw him in closer. Each nip and kiss was brutally slowly and methodical. As if he was letting her know the depth of his feelings.

Ilia kept exploring his back torso. Every groove felt like magic. Muscles were never something she was into on anybody. What really had her was the honest fact the body on top of hers belonged to the person that had completely captured her feelings. His hands slipped into her robe and made her body shiver. He never stopped being gentle but somehow was firm enough to let Ilia know how badly he wanted her. She was absolutely defenseless against the way his left hand groped her chest. As for the right, it wasted no time drifting to her wet folds, continuing the trend of slowly rubbing Ilia’s body; before she felt his middle finger open her up.

“Mmmph~” her nails dug into him a little. She could feel him curl his finger as he pumped in and out.

Sun could feel Ilia squeeze tightly around the digit. Her chest started to rise higher, her breath becoming sharper by sucking in air through her teeth. Sun finally let her neck free and kissed her, adding another finger in the process. His movements became faster and hid her face the crook of his neck the moment the kiss ended. She couldn’t stop her legs from fidgeting and the girl tried her best to repress her whimpers by any means. She even bit down on his neck briefly. All the while, Sun kissed and breathed on her very red ear.

“Let me hear your voice Ilia…”

He made it sound so easy. Ilia couldn’t stand sounding so needy, even with him. It just wasn’t her to give in and he knew that. “You’re the worst.” She whined. Her eyes shut themselves and her body clung to him as if she was falling. His fingers split from each other. Ilia could feel them press down as they went in, before sliding up to the top and pulling out to the entrance, connecting and splitting apart to touch everywhere.

“Mmmmm aaaahhaaa~ Sun!” Ilia couldn’t hold that one back at all. The first of many, until she had no will left but moan as her face turned beat red. He really was the worst. “Suuuun~ aaha!”

“I knew you could do it.” He managed to make her free himself enough to be able to kiss her face and neck again. His labor bore the fruit he wanted as Ilia kept moaning freely. Her body finally caved from his touch when she arched her back and Sun felt both fingers being squeezed tightly. Ilia’s entire body was tense and she couldn’t even make a noise until her body went limp on the couch. The breath hit heavily against his body as she tried catching it.

It didn’t take too long because she quickly went back to kissing him passionately, even moaning into it. If there was anything she loved most, it was kissing. It didn’t matter how skilled a person could be in anything else, a kiss had a way of showing exactly how much the other person really cared. There was no dying a spark when it was there. She learned that the hard way.

Sun could feel Ilia’s tongue all but dominate his own as he tried to do the same. He couldn’t help but groan from the pleasure. Ilia’s leg presses against his erection, stoking the flames further, but it was still only second compared to their lip locking. A subtle warmth hit his cheeks. Sun reluctantly pulled back to see why and witnessed Ilia panting,tears falling down her face. Sun put his hand against her face and Ilia pressed into it. He traced over the tear track and kissed the path of the other one away. “You okay?” He said quietly, earning a nod.

“Yeah. I’m just...you’re so warm, safe. I can’t remember feeling this...happy.” Her own words threatened to make herself shed more tears. He was looking at her again. That same gaze that never failed to make her heart jump and want to continue growing if it meant being even closer to him. “Please,touch me deeper.”

Sun’s face went redder. He sat up briefly and officially took off his shirt. His pants came next. Ilia tried removing her bathrobe but Sun quickly took her hand. “Wait, I uhh really like you in it.” He confessed, embarrassed. “It suits you.”

Ilia felt her heart flutter again. Sun’s infatuation with her legs and hips was flattering for sure, but Ilia never imagined how much. “Well, if we’re doing things that excite us.” She reached for his red boxers and slipped her hand between the seams, fishing out Sun’s hard six inch shaft. A simple grab had him throbbing and breathing deeper. “Having you like this is more my style.” Keeping underwear one while having sex just felt more intense and made Ilia ache. “Need me to get you slick enough.

“You tell me?” Sun pressed the tip of cock past her entrance and was welcomed with Ilia’s body dripping at the touch. He pressed further in to be guided with ease. She more than wet enough on her own. He was already halfway in and still felt no real resistance. Only Ilia spreading around him before clamping down. “Gods, your pussy is so wet.”

He really knew how to push her buttons just right. Her body betrayed her mind by gripping him even tighter for his choice of words. “I hate that word so much. It’s-mmmmph! Ahhh! S-Sun!?” He couldn’t wait any longer and hilted himself inside her completely. His hips began thrusting on their own and Sun found his way into Ilia’s arms yet again. Unlike her, Sun had no shame in letting her hear just how good she made him feel. His groans and grunts invaded her ear willingly, and passionately.

“Mmmmgh ahhh~ fuck. Ilia…” Sun couldn’t keep his thoughts straight anymore. All he wanted was to feel her and let Ilia feel him. He panted roughly and did his best to satisfy the woman beneath him.

Ilia was more than being satisfied. There wasn’t a moment she wasn’t feeling full by how wide his cock spread her apart. Her moans came back in full force to sing with his own. Ilia’s legs felt their strength drain from them and could only react to Sun’s hips. They once again kissed deeply and Ilia’s right hand was pressed against the sofa by Sun’s left, interlocking tightly with each finger around one another. It wasn’t long before Sun held the other one as well. The stimulation made Ilia feel alive with energy that was dead set at reaching its peak. They hadn't been going any longer than nine minutes by her guess, but yet they were near their limits already. Neither could help it. Today, it was nothing short of what they wanted. There wasn’t one touch or look that didn’t shout “ I love you with everything I have.”

“Ilia! I’m-“ he couldn’t contain himself long enough to speak. Ilia wrapped a leg around him as he came inside her. The feeling of it all knocked her past the point of no return and Ilia came as well; her body squeezed all it could as she cried out in pleasure. Sun’s hips rocked slowly to draw out the ecstasy of it all until they were left tired. Both found themselves staring yet again, smiles plain to see.

“Am I still the worst?” Sun chuckled.

“Without a doubt.” Ilia jabbed. “Kiss me again already will ya?”

Sun playfully rolled his eyes. “So needy.” He gave her what they both wanted and more. After all, he had a lot of love to give.

xxxx

They must’ve gone at it at least three times. The sun had set, food was ordered once again, and Speed Racer played for Sun’s viewing pleasure while Ilia slept peacefully. The boy was on his side while his girlfriend’s arms remained around him, her head resting on his chest. Sun couldn’t help but brush her hair out of her dreaming face and remain connected to her. Every so often she’d laugh quietly in her sleep.

“Always up to something. Even in your sleep.” Sun was only proven right by her body holding him closer.

“Mmmmmm love you.” Those words stopped Sun in his tracks. He had no choice but to look down at her once again and kiss her head. “I love you too.” A confession neither of them would officially remember, unburdened by the fear or memory. When it was right, they’d both say it. And what a day that would be. Until then, there was no rush.

[raleighcarrera]

birthday

platinum | raleigh carrera x mc (cadence dorian)

raleigh can’t let cadence spend her birthday taking care of him.

~2.5k words, PG-13ish (fluff)

raleigh woke up on the morning of june 30 feeling like his head was going to split open. he was very, very familiar with the dull ache of a hangover, and that wasn’t what he had -- this was something else entirely. 

groaning with miserable displeasure, he rolled over to cadence’s side of the bed and huffed when he felt only the bare sheets and not the soft shape of her, stretched out beside him. he hated when she got up before him.

he forced his eyes open, wincing when the light of the sun, filtering through the blinds in his bedroom, made his head throb harder. “fuck.” his voice was thick and raspy; his throat felt sore. 

before he could call out for his girlfriend, the door to his bedroom opened slowly, careful enough not to make a sound. cadence poked her sleep-tousled head in and smiled when she saw him. “oh, you’re awake. you were burning up, i had to get out of here. the bed was starting to feel like an oven.”

the sound of her voice, which was usually his favorite thing in the world, only worsened his headache. he flopped onto his back and shut his eyes wordlessly. he didn’t move even when cadence leaned over him on the bed and pressed the back of her hand against his forehead. “baby, i think you’re sick.”

raleigh groaned again. of course he was -- wait, no. he couldn’t be. today was june 30. “i can’t be sick on your birthday,” he croaked, turning his face greedily towards her, desperately seeking the touch of her cool palm against his flushed skin. “i’m fine.”

he forced his eyes open, even though it made the stabbing feeling in his brain worsen. cadence was standing above him, staring down at raleigh in that sexy, pissed-off but still concerned way she always was whenever she thought he was doing something stupid. as she pulled her hand away, he reached out and grabbed her wrist to stop her from moving. she sighed and reached up, smoothing his hair off his face. her fingers stroked his cheek. god, that felt amazing.

“you’re obviously not fine. you at least have a fever. and a cough -- i can’t believe you didn’t wake yourself up. it was really loud.” 

ugh. this wasn’t happening. today was supposed to be special. it was the first birthday he was going to be spending with cadence as her official boyfriend, and he’d made plans. raleigh had every intention of giving her a day she’d never forget -- a day that was just as wonderful as she was -- and getting sick was not part of it. he needed to be well enough to take her to brunch, to see her face after she left the boutique he’d bought out, to watch her open her presents and bring her to the carefully planned surprise party that all of her friends were going to meet them at. 

he’d gone all out in preparing for today, and it had to be perfect. “this can’t be happening,” he groaned, his voice breaking with a cough. when he recovered, he asked, “what time is it?”

cadence made a soft, sympathetic noise as she brushed her fingers through his hair again. “nine-thirty.”

“okay.” he paused to cough again. “that’s fine -- we don’t need to start having fun until eleven, so -- i just need to get better in an hour and a half.”

she huffed out a little laugh under her breath. she appeared to be fighting a smile. “raleigh, i don’t think you’re going to be well enough to go out in only --”

“cadence,” he protested, his voice an obvious whine. “i have to be.” they had a reservation. he’d even left time for wake-up sex. “we’re supposed to go to brunch.”

“well, we can go to brunch another day. you shouldn’t be going anywhere, raleigh -- you’re really sick. i’m sorry, i know you had plans --”

“god, don’t apologize to me on your birthday.” cadence arched her eyebrows at him. okay, so she thought he was being dramatic. and maybe he was, though he felt perfectly justified in his reaction. he hardly thought she would feel great if she were the one ruining his birthday. 

“you’re not ruining anything,” she promised, her voice gentle and reassuring. he blinked. had he said that out loud? his head was still pounding. “we can celebrate my birthday another day. it’s fine, it doesn’t matter.” 

“yes it does,” he insisted stubbornly, struggling to sit up in bed so she could see how serious he was. the moment he moved, he regretted his decision; his whole body felt achy and uncomfortable -- he didn’t need to make his point that badly, right? cadence pressed lightly on his shoulder and he laid back down, trying to act as though she were forcing him to. “it’s your birthday today. you should still do the fun stuff. avery has the itinerary, he can send it to you.”

“raleigh.” she was very obviously holding back a laugh, amusement clear in her voice. “don’t be ridiculous. i’m not going anywhere until you’re better again.”

“cadence, no.” this was all wrong. he couldn’t let her spend her birthday taking care of him. “you need to go --” a coughing fit shook his shoulders. “-- do birthday stuff. you’re not staying here.”

she rolled her eyes at him. “okay, raleigh.” he fought off a whine as she stepped away from the bed. it was really going to suck, being stuck here without her hands on him. 

cadence slipped out of his bedroom and he sighed, tugging the blankets up around his chin. suddenly, he was freezing. okay -- this was obviously going to be terrible, but at least cadence was going to have her birthday fun. that would make everything worth it. 

a moment later, she came back in, typing away on her phone. raleigh heard the swoop of an outgoing text message before the click of her putting the device to sleep, and watched as she set it into her pocket. “i just texted avery and told him to move everything, so -- looks like you’re stuck with me.”

“cadence. that’s literally the exact opposite of what i said to do.”

she held up her hands. “it’s too late. looks like we’re doing this.” 

despite his insistence, he was grateful to have her close as she stopped near the bed again. “why don’t you take a hot shower? i’ll change the sheets and call in your symptoms and we’ll take it from there.” she leaned down and brushed her lips against his forehead; he could have sobbed with relief. just having her close, with her familiar weight and shape and smell was more comforting than anything he could have asked for.

with herculean effort, he dragged himself out of bed. before he shut the door to the bathroom, he heard cadence humming to herself as she stripped the sheets off and smiled, the sound of the melody already lifting his spirits.

he hated when she was right, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t -- and often. cadence knew what she was talking about; after a few long minutes under the hot water he was already starting to feel remarkably less disgusting. dropping down into a set of clean sheets only made things better. 

cadence felt his forehead again when he laid down. “good news and bad news. the good news is that the tel-a-doc thinks you just have a 24-hour bug. the bad news is you’re all out of what we need to treat it, so -- i have to run to the store. are you gonna be alright for a few minutes here by yourself?”

the question was almost laughable. if cadence only knew the disasters he’d caused in this very apartment, by himself, before she came along. raleigh was sure she’d be completely horrified to know all he’d gotten up to, and on any other day he absolutely would have made a joke about it, just in the hopes of making her laugh. today -- he really didn’t want her to go.

“yeah,” he mumbled, sighing heavily through his congestion as he made himself comfortable in the newly made bed. his eyes felt heavy. “s’cool.”

raleigh was asleep in moments. when he woke up, the clock on his nightstand let him know that it’d been a few hours. his stomach rumbled; he was hungry -- that was a start.

he dragged himself out of bed and made his way to the kitchen. cadence was dancing at the stove, shimmying her hips to the song playing quietly off her phone. he leaned against the refrigerator and stared at her, his lips pulling up into a smile.

she spun around and saw him, flushing bright red. “raleigh.”

“cadence.” he mimicked her voice with -- what he thought was -- a perfect imitation. 

“okay, so i guess you’re feeling better.” she nodded her head at the breakfast bar. “sit.”

he did, folding his arms on the counter and dropping his chin onto them, watching her from the middle of the kitchen. she turned the music on her phone off and then turned back to the stove; raleigh watched as she ladled soup into a bowl and brought it over to him. she set a blue gatorade and two pills down beside it. 

raleigh arched an eyebrow at her. “you made soup?”

it looked pretty good. actually, it looked... almost too good. cadence shook her head. “i just heated it up. you’ll feel better, though, once you take the medicine -- which you should do now so you can have it again with dinner. are you actually feeling better?”

he paused to think about it for a moment, shoveling a spoonful of soup in his mouth. it was hot. cadence stared at him, unimpressed, as he spit it back into the bowl. “yeah, i guess. a little. thanks for doing all of this. i’m sorry i took your birthday away.”

her gaze softened. “raleigh, it’s not a big deal. you didn’t take my birthday away, you’re my boyfriend -- i want to take care of you. we’ll celebrate another day. we can just reschedule everything.” she bit down on her bottom lip, stifling a smile. “although it did sound pretty incredible.”

he groaned. “avery told you? i’m gonna kill him.”

“well -- i asked! i wanted to make sure everything could be moved. and it could, so it’s not a big deal. but... i can’t believe you planned all of that for me.” her gaze was serious where it was fixed on his. “no one’s ever gone through so much trouble for me like that before.”

he averted his eyes to his soup, stirring it around slowly. he felt flushed again. “it wasn’t that involved.”

“yes it was, raleigh. you put all this time and effort into planning the perfect day, and i... i just feel really lucky. to be dating someone like you, who cares so much. so shut up, and let me thank you, and eat your soup.”

she was smiling at him. his chest felt uncomfortably tight. she had definitely done... something to him, that was for damn sure. before her, he’d never been the type of guy interested in earning boyfriend-points. traditionally, raleigh ran at the first sight of anything that could be construed as commitment; he didn’t want to be stuck planning anyone’s anything. celebrating a birthday with a girl was usually a sign that it was time for him to get lost. 

but ever since cadence saw something in him that she thought was worth sticking around for, he constantly found himself working towards a new bar that had been set. every day he was trying to outdo himself, all in the hopes of making her smile. 

her birthday was his chance to pay back all the amazing things she did for him every other day of the year. he was supposed to be using this day to show her how much she meant to him.

“i’d do it every day, you know,” raleigh said finally, between bites. “you don’t have to wait until your birthday. you deserve something that special every day.”

the face she made at him made his stomach twist. she looked so happy. “thank you,” she murmured again, squeezing his hand. “come on. let’s get you back into bed.”

once he’d crawled back between the sheets, she set up camp for them in the bedroom -- bringing raleigh his phone, getting a water bottle for his nightstand, bringing the tissues in close. “now all i need is you,” he instructed, looking meaningfully at her side of the bed.

cadence really needed to move in here -- to make it official. it felt incredibly off-putting when the right side of the bed was empty. 

“one last thing.” she smiled, and then presented him with a cherry popsicle, holding the stick towards him so he could take it.

his eyes lit up. a thousand memories of being home sick from school flooded his senses as he pulled it towards his mouth, nostalgia filling him abruptly. if he closed his eyes he could almost hear his mom whispering terms of endearment in spanish as he laid with his head in her lap. “okay, how’d you know?”

“i called your mom,” she admitted sheepishly, “while i was at the store. she said you always used to have them when you were sick. i thought it might help you feel better, but -- they only had the variety pack, so i bought, like, three boxes to make sure we’d have enough cherry.” 

“jeez. you’d think it was my birthday.” the thought of cadence on the phone with his mom, swapping stories about him was... enough to make him nervous in a way he didn’t understand. his stomach was squirming, but it also felt... good, like pre-performance jitters or takeoff in a private plane. it felt like... he was getting something for christmas that he’d wanted all year.

cadence laughed as she pulled back the covers and slipped into bed beside him. she leaned over to shut off the bedside light, and then made herself comfortable under his arm. “you shouldn’t get so close,” he murmured, even as he pulled her in flush, “you’ll get sick.”

she leaned her head on his chest. “it’s my birthday,” she reminded him, “i can do whatever i want.”

there were a thousand things he wanted to tell her. he needed her to know that he felt lucky, too, to be dating someone like her, and that sometimes it seemed insane that she could feel the same way about him. he wanted her to understand that she deserved to be with someone who would make every birthday of hers the greatest day of the year, who’d kill to see her smile or laugh or turn that wide-eyed look of delight on them. 

but sleep was starting to overtake him again. he squeezed his arm around her, pressing his lips to the top of her head. “you’re right,” he murmured, “it’s your day. happy birthday.”

[lia-jones]

Growing Together - Chapter Three - Rising Star

Victor barely slept that night, concerned about his wife.

Andrea barely ate anything at dinner and began to look lethargic and sore, the rabies shot affecting her even more than the monkey bite itself, probably bringing a fever with it. When she said she wanted to take a shower and go to bed, he took matters into his own hands and helped her shower, afraid she would collapse should she do it on her own. After he settled her in bed, it took mere seconds for her to fall asleep, warm and cozy against him, while he entertained himself with a book. He watched over her, holding a quiet vigil in her slumber, making sure she was warm, comfortable, and healthy.

Once again, Andrea’s stirring woke Victor up. The sun was starting to rise in the Balinese sky, the only thing audible was the ebb and flow of the waves in the distance, the local birds still slumbering in their nests. He wondered if she was starting to get a fever, her cheeks looking more flushed than usual. He gently pressed his lips against her forehead, deeming the temperature acceptable. He wondered if her injury was causing discomfort, unable to t tell if her shoulder was swollen under the bandage. With a very light hand, he touched her on that spot, trying to determine if there was swelling or something that could indicate an infection. Everything seemed normal. She was safe and sound in his arms. Satisfied, Victor leaned his face against her hair and closed his eyes to sleep.

However, he found himself unable to fully relax.

Another thought stirred inside Victor’s somnolent mind. Taking care of Andrea physically was not his only job as a husband, he had to make sure she was happy as well. His biggest challenge, however, was that he had no idea of what made a good husband, or a good father, for that matter. He remembered witnessing his parents happy and in love at a very young age, and after that they had drifted apart, both using their careers as an excuse.

Victor could only guess what being a good husband meant, because he truly had no tangible idea. Still, he would try his best. Andrea gave him so much. She certainly deserved his best.

Victor grimaced as he remembered the way he scolded her earlier; he had reminded himself of his own father: insensitive, imperious, cruel even. Even if it was based on concern and good intentions, his wife did not deserve to be spoken to that way. He made a decision there and then: his main goal for the next day would be to make Andrea smile and allow her to shine her brightest.

Victor tried his best to keep true to his promise, tending to her every need, watching her mood carefully, and acting accordingly. The resort doctor came again to check her wound, which had improved greatly overnight, and told them she could remove the bandage. As a reward of sorts, Victor and Andrea took a dive in the swimming pool, ate, and slept, returning to their previous honeymoon bliss. Still, Andrea seemed sad for some reason, her natural light dimmer than usual. It was when she caught her, later that day, staring at her purse, lost in thought, that he understood why. She was worried about all the text messages Olive had left her.

It was only natural that she would worry, not knowing what was happening back home could only make her picture all sorts of scenarios, probably even worse than the one that was actually happening. On the other hand, Victor knew that the moment she found out there was something wrong with her study, she would lose her for the rest of the honeymoon. She wouldn’t trust other people much with her work and would want to supervise every single inch of progress, forgetting all about the honeymoon. Whatever was happening back in Loveland, Olive and the research team would have to fend for themselves. In the meantime, Victor would have to take his wife’s mind off the subject.

After dinner, Victor took her outside to enjoy the warm night on the patio. They laid down on the big bed by the pool, watching the stars.

“Does your shoulder hurt?” He eyed her carefully, as she tried to make herself more comfortable on the mattress.

“No, not anymore.” She tossed a bit more. “Just trying to find the perfect position.”

Victor smirked to himself. She could be such a dummy sometimes.

“Luckily for you, I know exactly what my wife needs.” He tugged her arm, pulling her closer. “Come use your special pillow.”

She smiled and snuggled against him, resting her head on his chest.

“You were right, this is much better.” She moved closer, as Victor’s arm came behind her, drawing lazy circles on her skin.

They laid still for a moment, enjoying the quiet of the night, until Andrea broke the silence.

“Do you know anything about constellations?”

“Can’t say that I do, why?” He looked at her, curious.

“You and I, laying like this, looking at the stars…” She trailed off. “It’s like in the movies.”

Victor couldn’t hide his smile. Even his wife, who was always so practical and down to earth, enjoyed some romance from time to time. He would obviously oblige. That’s what a good husband would do.

“Anyone could tell you about the most commonly known constellations, such as the Big Dipper or Orion’s Belt.” He playfully quipped. “But only I can tell you about the Mystery Constellations, which only a handful of men on this planet know about.”

“Is that so?” Andrea smiled, playing along. “Mystery Constellations, you say?”

“Now that you are my wife, I feel more at ease sharing this incredibly sensitive information with you, provided you promise me you won’t tell another soul. Do I have your word?” He ceremoniously asked, making his wife giggle.

“You have my word.” She answered, amused.

“Perfect.” He nodded, pointing to the sky. “Do you see those four stars, forming an imperfect trapezoid?”

“Those over there?” She looked at the spot in the sky where he was pointing. “Yes, I guess.”

“That’s the constellation of Pudding.” The statement made Andrea laugh hard, and Victor almost lost his composure as well. “Don’t laugh, I’m serious.” He scolded, trying hard to suppress his laughter.

“There’s a constellation called Pudding?” Andy laughed again.

“I don’t know why you doubt me, it’s right there.” He answered in all seriousness, making Andrea laugh again. “The legend says that, once upon a time, there was a prince that wanted to conquer this incredibly short and difficult princess’s heart.” He stifled a laugh, seeing she didn’t like the remark on her height. “However, the only thing he knew how to make was pudding, and this particular damsel did not like pudding, so the prince was in quite a predicament. He prayed to the gods to provide him with the finest ingredients, so he could prepare the perfect pudding, the one that would make her fall in love. The gods, moved with the very noble and handsome prince’s devotion, granted him his wish. He made the perfect pudding, a dessert so glorious it was known to drive mortals insane if they had too much of it, and also likely to cause a tummy ache.”

At this point, Andrea was lost in laughter.

“Do you want me to tell you the story or not? Your mockery is aggravating.” He teased her, just to see if he could make her laugh even more.

“Go on, noble and handsome prince.” She teased him back.

“I shall.” Victor continued. “Resuming, the prince had obtained the perfect gift to bestow to his loved one, but the gods had become jealous. Who was this mortal to become worthy of something so divine, that was clearly destined for the gods and the gods alone? They took the pudding away from the prince, and to reward him for his efforts, they made a constellation in the sky shaped like a pudding, to honor such a gastronomic masterpiece.”

“Wow, stargazing and storytelling. I’m impressed.” Andrea complimented, making Victor smirk internally. “But what about the prince? Did he get the girl?”

“It turns out the prince never needed pudding in the first place. May I remind you, he was very desirable.” Victor got another laugh from his wife.

“I’m inclined to agree with that.” Andrea smiled suggestively. “Thank you for showing me such a mysterious constellation.”

“I’m not done yet.” Victor was actually having fun acting silly. It was truly enjoyable to hear his wife laugh like that. Almost as much as making her scream his name. “Do you see those three stars in a row? That constellation is named King of Highhorseland.” Andrea laughed even harder than before. “Legend says…”

“Quit being petty!” She playfully scolded him, poking him in the ribs.

“Let me finish!” He poked her back.

“Nope. Another one.” She insisted, making Victor chuckle, amused that he was able to provoke her.

“Alright, fair enough.” He relaxed on the mattress, focused on the starry sky again. “Can you see that star over there, the brightest of them all?”

“You mean the plane?” She asked with a flat voice.

“I mean the star.” Victor corrected, although part of him was wondering if she was right.

“I’m pretty sure it’s a plane, Victor.”

“Excuse me, who is the knowledgeable astronomer here?” He playfully frowned at her. “This very special star is called Andrea. She’s bright, magical, and beautiful, and she brightens up my dark sky.” He came closer to her, their breaths mingling, their lips almost touching.

“That’s incredibly sweet.” She whispered. “Although you just named a plane after me.”

“Shut up.” Victor claimed her mouth for a kiss, slightly biting on her bottom lip, and all the foolery was promptly forgotten. There were other ways to make his wife forget all about her predicament, and the one Victor had in mind would prove to be even more pleasurable.

He tasted every inch of her skin, drawing from her lips all the pleasurable sounds she had in her, and only when she screamed his name in euphoria, when he bathed her and washed and soothed her spent body, did he let her collapse in his arms blissfully, her skin glowing as it always would when she was feeling happy.

As he watched her sleep, her body pressed against his, his chest swelled with the pride of a job well done. He had taken good care of her. He was a good husband.

He woke up before her, as usual. The bellhop delivered breakfast soon after, and came bearing a message: Goldman had called, and said a certain Mrs. Olive Carson was repeatedly calling LFG to find a way to reach Andrea.

Victor looked at his wife still sleeping peacefully. Why was the Dean being so insistent? Andrea was on her honeymoon, whatever reason she may have to inconvenience them, it better be a good one. Decided to take matters into his own hands, Victor took his phone and dialed Olive’s number, ready to severely reprehend her for being so inappropriate.

The conversation took an unexpected turn, and Victor found himself thanking her excitedly, telling her Andrea would call soon. He took a deep breath before he went to wake up his wife. He was so excited he could barely contain it, and he would probably scare Andrea.

He caressed her curls, watching her eyelids flutter to consciousness.

“Come on, sleepyhead. You have pressing matters to attend.” He tried to whisper, although he was so happy he found himself unable to be as gentle as he hoped.

“Breakfast? That can wait a few more minutes.” She rolled to the other side, her back facing him.

Victor was growing impatient. She needed to know the good news from the source, he didn’t want to be the one to tell her. But for that, she would need to stop her shenanigans.

“No time for snoozing, Andrea.” He then remembered something that would make her bolt from bed. “You need to call Olive. Something happened.”

As expected, Andrea jumped from the covers abruptly. Victor handed her the phone with a smile. Not that she noticed.

“Oh my God, what do you think happened?” She took the phone from his hand, a worried look on her face. She pressed the dial and waited for the recipient to pick up. Victor sat beside her, heart jumping in exhilaration.

He watched his wife grimace at the first words of the conversation, only for her expression to become one of disbelief. In each change in her, Victor’s smile went wider. When she hung up, she was frozen in shock, her eyes tearing up slightly.

“I won a GESA award.” She spoke slowly, not really believing it herself. “For Most Promising Mind in Economics. My study isn’t even completely over yet, but they loved it.” She suddenly jumped to Victor’s arms. “I won a GESA! Do you understand what this means?”

Victor wasted no time, now that his happiness could have an outlet. He took his wife and spun her around, both laughing with happiness. He then stopped, still holding her in the air, to kiss her as passionately as he felt. When they broke the kiss, they both looked at each other, their eyes shiny with happiness.

“It means you are brilliant, like I always knew you were.” His voice was tight with emotion, words failing to describe how blessed he felt. “It was only a matter of time for the world to see it too.”

“I didn’t do this alone, Victor.” Happy tears fell as she lovingly combed his hair back with her fingers. “You were my greatest support in all of this. You believed in me, even when I didn’t. You encouraged me and you watched over me. I can’t thank you enough, really.” She took his face in his hands and kissed his lips fervently. “I love you so much. Thank you for being in my life.”

“Thank you for being in mine.” He put her down, so his hands would be free to wipe away her tears. “I love you too, my light. And I am so very proud of you.” He kissed her forehead, his lips lingering on her skin. “Now, go get breakfast so we can go out and celebrate. We’ll go anywhere you want, as long as there are no animals involved.”

Andrea’s smile was so beautiful he couldn’t resist but to pick her up in his arms again, carrying her to the table. Victor couldn’t imagine a time in his life when he had felt so lighthearted, and they were only getting started, he still had a lifetime of happiness by her side. Whatever she thought he did, he would do it again and much more, just to see that smile on her face, casting a warm powerful light in his life and everything around her. Because she was the brightest star in his life. More than that, she was a rising star.

[ghostboybabies]

little ghost boy || [JATP Agere/CGLRE]- “Spooky Vibes” (Chapter 5/Halloween Special)

A/N: happy halloween! I'm crediting Random_Nerd3 (on ao3)/ @random-nerd-3 for helping me brainstorm this chapter! She's really cool and is also planning to write agere content for this fandom and she's a really cool person so please go support her!

This is just a cute filler and I hope y'all like it!

--

"AH!"

Reggie jumped, looking away from the tv screen quickly. "You good, Reg?" Luke asked, looking at him. Reggie nodded slowly, pretending as if the sudden jumpscare didn't spook him.

Julie, Luke, and Reggie were all watching horror movies together. It was Halloween night, and she said that they needed to watch scary movies to "take in the spooky vibes". Neither Luke or Reggie really knew what that meant but they figured it'd be fun.

Ray was off at some kids Halloween party with Carlos, while Alex was off with Willie. It seemed like he always was now, for some reason. But the rest of the band didn't mind it. They figured it had to do with him finally having a boyfriend, they understood why he'd want to spend a lot of time with him.

Reggie was having fun until he realized how much scarier modern horror movies were then the one he watched when he was a kid. But he tried to keep his cool, simply distracting himself or pretending it wasn't scary.

Luke and Julie seemed to be enjoying the movies though, trying to predict what would be happening next. Reggie, however, was trying to hold back regression. The movies scared him and he wanted nothing more then to cuddle up next to Luke and his away in his chest.

He couldn't do this now! He was supposed to be big right now!

Luke would've probably given him another rant about how he didn't 'have' to be big ever, and that he would regress whenever he needed or wanted to. But Reggie would still feel very bad if he regressed in the middle of what was supposed to be a horror movie marathon. This was a big kid thing, not a baby Reggie thing.

And plus, Julie had just found out about his age regression. He avoided regressing around her, and he really didn't wanna freak her out or anything. So he silently sat, trying to keep himself both big and calm, holding back whimpers and whines.

The others were also having fun! He couldn't mess that up.

"You're gonna die! How stupid are you?" Julie shouted at the screen as if the characters could hear her. Reggie flinched at the shouting, getting closer to Luke instead of her. Luke glanced over at him but didn't verbally question it.

Reggie looked back to the screen, watching as the character Julie had been referring to died. He knew that the blood wasn't real, but the little toddler part of his brain told him that it somehow was. He bit back a whine, his thumb flying to his lip instantly. Luke reached forward, grabbing the remote and pausing the movie.

Reggie let out a light sigh of relief, while Julie gasped, turning to Luke to complain until she saw how serious he looked. Luke spoke to Reggie, in a tone he would usually take over when he was telling Reggie to do something or he wanted him to listen. It wasn't harsh or mean, just stern in a 'please do this for me' type of way.

"Reg, be honest with me. Are you regressing?" he asked.

Reggie shook his head, quickly feeling guilt settle into his stomach for disregarding his friend's 'no lying' request. Luke gave him a stern look, like when he did something he wasn't supposed to. That didn't happen a lot, and when it did, it was because Reggie forgot that he wasn't supposed to do said thing.

"Don't lie to me." Luke repeated.

Reggie looked down, not replying verbally. "Why didn't you tell me, baby? What happened?"

"S-scary!" Reggie whined, looking at the screen before quickly turning away again.

"The movie scared you?" Luke questioned softly. Reggie nodded, confirming. "Why didn't you tell us? We could've turned it off!" Luke pointed out.

Reggie looked over to Julie, closing in on himself a bit. Julie seemed concerned, and sympathetic. Reggie expected her to be weirded out, or even upset with him for going into littlespace. This was a bad time.

Why was he so sensitive when he regressed?

"m' sorry, didn't wan' mess it up!" he spoke in his little voice, his eyes glossing over as he looked between them with an apologetic look.

"You didn't mess anything up! We can watch kids Halloween movies, it'll still be fun!" Julie jumped in, trying to reassure him. She took a second, looking him up and down before talking again. "If you're worried about being little around me, I really don't mind. We've already had this conversation, you're safe with me."

Reggie hummed. Julie's words seemed to calm him. She opened her arms, and Reggie took the opportunity to hug her. He buried his head in her chest, feeling her arms around him and a light kiss to his forehead.

Luke watched them, silenced by the adorableness that was the scene in front of him. Julie, like him, was pretty good at calming Reggie down. She seemed to know just what he needed to hear, and gave him hugs that made him feel so safe. Plus, they worked well as a team when it came to taking care of Reggie.

"No more hiding when you're feeling small, okay? At least not with us." Julie spoke in a slightly stern voice, pulling away from the embrace. The voice convinced Reggie that whatever she said had to be right. Reggie nodded slowly, bringing his thumb to his lip again.

"How old are you?" she asked, glancing at his lips, where he was seconds away from sucking his thumb.

"Lil." Reggie replied simply, tilting his head a bit. Julie smiled, obviously amused.

"Yes, we know that, darling. But how little?" Luke spoke up, just as amused as the other girl was. Reggie gave a confused pout, seemingly trying to think.

"Baby!" he giggled, letting his thumb slip into his mouth. He bounced in place, obviously happy for whatever reason.

He was easily excited while little. The smallest little thing could make him all giggly and bouncy, which Luke really loved. It was fun to see what would amuse Reggie, doing different things just to see him smile.

Julie was glad that they were able to distract him from any sort of guilt. "Does the baby wanna watch Casper the Friendly Ghost?"

"Was dat?" Reggie mumbled around his thumb. Luke and Julie didn't scold him for sucking his thumb because they didn't know if it mattered or not. He was dead, it wasn't like he could get sick or mess up his teeth.

"It's a cute movie about a nice ghost. Like you guys!" she cheered.

"No scary ghosts?" Reggie asked. Julie shook her head.

"Mkay. Watch it." he nodded, confirming. He settled back into the couch, watching as Luke handed the remote to Julie. As Julie located the movie, Luke reached over and played with Reggie's hair, causing him to lean into him.

Luke was enjoying the affection until Reggie suddenly pulled away. He looked at Julie silently as she settled back into the couch. She opened her arm,letting him lean into her and cuddle into her side, wrapping her arm around him. Luke crossed his arms, gasping.

"I want cuddles too!" he complained playfully, giving a pout that wasn't unlike Little Reggie's.

Reggie looked over to Luke, all cuddled up next to Julie, not wanting to move. Julie looked over to Luke too. Luke winked at Julie, and she smiled. "Nope, he chose me!" she stuck her tongue out, tightening her arm around him.

Reggie giggled a bit. "No fair!" Luke exclaimed.

"It is fair. He likes me more!" Julie made her voice sound like she was bragging. Reggie's smile dropped as he looked between them. He saw Luke's pout, jumping up away from Julie quickly.

"Don't be sad! Like you too!" he assured, jumping onto him and attacking him with cuddles.

"Aw," Luke cooed, hugging him back. He got rid of the fake pout,  "You're so sweet, baby."

"Yeah, we were just playing. You can cuddle with whoever you want, we know you don't pick favorites." Julie assured. Reggie hummed.

"Favite!" Reggie poked Luke once pulling away from their hug. Then, he reached over and did the same thing to Julie. "Favite!"

"D-did- did you just call us your favorites?" Julie gave Reggie a loving look, seemingly touched by this adorably childish action. Reggie nodded.

"Both my favite! Love yous," he cheered, adjusting himself so that he was laying on the couch. He laid his head on Luke's lap, looking up at him.

"I love you too." Luke smiled, running his fingers through his hair.

Julie let Reggie stretch his legs across her lap, settling into the position. "We both love you, sweetie." Julie told him.

After this, they fell into silence, Luke playing with his hair and Julie tracing small circles on his legs. They watched the movie, Reggie giggling here and there. It wasn't long before he fell asleep, though. Drifting off to the affection of his supportive friends, and the sound of a children's movie playing in the background.

That Halloween night was perfect. In every single way.

Alex came back later on to see the three of them asleep on the couch, all cuddled up together. Alex would've assumed it was just like every other cuddly movie night, except for one thing.

Reggie had fallen asleep sucking his thumb.

[sohin-ace]

Josuke - Ghost

This is cross-posted from Wattpad and available on AO3.

Enjoy~

Ghost! Fem! reader x Josuke

There was something wrong with Josuke these days and he knew it. Ever since the beginning of that summer it felt like all the weirdest events kept happening.

As if having a serial killer on the loose in town wasn't enough, he started to see someone. It happened very suddenly, he was alone in his bedroom when he heard a faint and feminine voice.

It was like she was calling for help, but when she finally appeared in front of him, he was close to shitting his pants, fainting and having a heart attack, all at the same time.

"WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!"

When he saw the spirit, his first thought was that you were a Stand, and he immediately called his own, ready to beat the crap out of you.

By some miracle, you managed to calm him down and explain to him that you weren't a Stand at all. That would explain why you were sentient and could form actual coherent sentences.

Josuke kept on seeing that ghost in his house every other day. At first he was obviously freaked out and wanted to call an exorcist or more conveniently, Jotaro to help him get rid of her.

But at the end of the day, she was very sweet and he took a liking to her. He didn't mind the compagny and she made him get his mind off things. Call him crazy, but at this point in his life, nothing could get any weirder.

"Hey, did you always live here or did you suddenly found yourself in my house?" He asked after being accustomed to your frequent visits.

"I roamed into the endless void until I felt something connecting me to this place, that's why I'm here."

He shuddered. What a morbid choice of words. "Well you sure know how to spook people..."

You chuckled. "I still wonder why I suddenly latched on this house. I didn't mean to haunt you."

He shivered again as he rolled to the side of his bed. Why was the room so cold? He got up to put something on his back and warm himself up.

"Are you making the temperature drop or something with your ghostliness? It's summer but I'm freezing!"

"Hmm, maybe it's my voice." It was true that your soft voice held a distant resonnance to it that made you sound quite litteraly out of this world. This always intrigued him, but he was charmed by it.

"Or maybe it's because I'm..."

"Don't do it." He warned, only expecting a bad ghost pun from you, but you only smiled a big grin and striked an impossible pose.

"...Drop dead gorgeous?"

"GET OUTTA HERE!"

You both laughed at your goofiness and had a great time. Despite you being a ghost, Josuke couldn't help but be enamored with you. You were pretty cute and funny and you seemed attentive to even the smallest details about him.

"You know... y-you would have been my t-type of girl..."

He trailed off and turned his face away from you to hide his furious blush, embarassed to admit it. You chuckled at his cute behavior.

"If I was still alive..." Your expression softened with a hint of melancholy. "Please don't love me. I don't want to induce more pain to others..."

"..."

That was how you two would hang out from time to time, when you appeared in his house. He couldn't talk about this with anyone else, not even Okuyasu. But he didn't mind, in fact, he kind of liked that you were his little secret.

"Heeyyy ghooost girl! I'm boreeed!" Josuke lazily called out, hoping that you would come out without having him making some Ouija rituals or anything.

"Hey! That's rude, I have a name!" You poked your head through one of the walls and floated over him, who was laying on his bed.

"Well you never told me it!" He deadpanned as you hovered over him, inching towards his face.

"Well you never asked!" you bickered back.

"Well what's your name, ghost girl?"

You backed away from him and put yourself in a sitting position on his bed as you looked at him. "My name is Y/N Zeppeli. And I already know your name, Josuke Higashikata."

He shot up in his bed and stared at you wide eyed "Wait! Y/N that's your name? It's so cute! It fits you way better than ghost girl!"

Even without a body of flesh and blood, you swore you felt your face blushing profusely right now.

"O-of course it does! Why did you even start calling me that!" You pouted and he laughed at you.

More days passed together and he shared all of his stories with you. He would talk about his day and you were quite fascinated by how passionate he was towards his friends. Especially that Okuyasu guy, he sounded like a lot of fun.

"Oh, Y/N I always wanted to ask you something." His tone and expression turned serious suddenly and you nodded at him, gesturing him to go on.

He scooted over to you, getting all close and personnal as he stared into your eyes, a little bit hesitant to ask.

"Do you... Remember how you died...?"

You flinched at his question and he gasped, sensing your distress and instantly regretting his words.

"Y-you don't have to answer if it's too painful! I can't even imagine what it'd be like to remember your own death..." He fretted, feeling like an idiot for even bringing that up.

You looked down, a sad smile gracing your lips.

"Josuke." You breathed and his heart skipped a beat at the way you pronounced his name, sending shivers down his spine.

"Y-yes?" He was blushing red. Why did he feel so affected suddenly.

"You are... A descendant of the Joestar bloodline, right?"

"Joestar...?" Now he was curious. "Yes, how did you know?"

"There are other Joestars in this very house, right?" He gulped as you splurted truths after truths and he started to get very uncomfortable.

"Y/N you're scaring the shit out of me..." As you didn't answer and didn't move a single inch he continued. "Y-yeah, there's more of my family here... Why?"

You suddenly floated away from your seated position in front of him, and did something very unexpected.

You came closer to him, way closer than you've ever been before, and glided your hands under the strap of his sleeveless shirt. The proximity and the contact flustering him to no end.

"W-w-what are you doing...?!" He stuttered shakily, his face and ears burning as your bodiless form came in contact with the skin of his back and shoulders.

It felt weird, you didn't have skin to touch him, but what he felt of you was a cold but comforting breeze, tickling and grazing his skin ever so slightly, raising every single hair on his arms and back of his neck with goosebumps.

It wasn't unpleasant, in fact, it was quite pleasurable. But the shock he was left in didn't let room for his mind to drift off towards any undesired thoughts. He glanced at you and your beautiful yet dulled features from the corner of his eyes.

He couldn't help but think that you must have been so incredibly pretty when you were alive. That you must have held the most delicious of warmths and ministrated the sweetest of caresses.

But you were gone. So young too. He felt blessed to have met you, but cursed that it would be in such circumstances.

You carefully moved his strap from his back to stare at the star that was deeply imprinted into his skin. You sighed in understanding as your doubts were confirmed.

You slowly backed away from his shoulder and stopped right in front of his face. "Josuke Joestar..."

His whole body tensed up again, he gulped loudly and his heart was beating anxiously fast at the name you just called him.

"The reason I'm latched onto this home is because the Joestars dwell here." You spoke honestly as you were slowly putting the pieces together.

"What?" He gasped at the sudden confession.

You were linked to his family line? But why? He was so confused and had so many questions. As if you had read his mind, you continued.

"The Zeppeli bloodline has been linked to the Joestars for centuries." You paused and looked down again, trying to find the right words.

Josuke was staring at you, speechless as he listened to your story. He had always found you so mysterious and intriguing, but now that he was starting to know the truth, he felt like it was something that should have been left unknown.

He felt like he was digging into something he shouldn't, that the outcome would leave one of you heartbroken.

But somewhat this was fate. Whatever would happen was bound to happen. You clenched your fists over your lap before continuing.

"Our sole purpose.... is to die for you." You breathed, not quite daring to look at him in the eye just yet.

His whole body shook and his mouth fell agape. He tried to form words, but he was so overwhelmed by all the informations, he couldn't believe what he was hearing from you.

How come he didn't know something like that? Did Jotaro know? Did Joseph know? He had so many questions, he didn't know where to start.

"Th-that means..." He started, his voice stuck in his throat. "That... You... You-"

"I died for my Joestar." You continued for him, a melancholic smile reaching your lips and eyes.

"W-who was it...?" He faintly managed to utter, barely over a whisper, not wanting the question to leave his mouth, and terrified of the answer.

Untangible tears prickled in your eyes and you finally looked up at him.

"I'm so happy that you are alive, Josuke." Your voice cracked into a sob as heavy tears spilled down your face.

Josuke felt his throat tighten painfully, he couldn't breathe. "No..." He denied, not wanting to accept what he was understanding. "No way... No...no...no..."

You nodded slowly, confirming his doubts and placed your cold hands upon his cheeks.

You admired the depth of his blue eyes in completely fondness. He was so beautiful, and he looked healthy. You were glad, so glad.

"You became such a wonderful person. If I had a second chance, I would not hesitate to give my life for you again."

"Y/N DON'T SAY THAT!!!" He snapped completely as he processed the revelation, his voice cracking. "THERE'S NO FUCKING WAY, YOU'RE JOKING!! TELL ME YOU'RE LYING TO ME!!!"

You leaned in and pressed your forehead against his and the boy couldn't contain his tears anymore as he sobbed heavily.

You had died for him. You sacrificed yourself so he could live, and he didn't even have the chance to know you, to cherish you.

He would have never known what you did for him if it wasn't for your sudden paranormal appearance in his house, and now he couldn't even return the favor.

With these thoughts in mind, he cried harder, like a lost little boy, but he didn't care anymore. You ran your thumbs over his tears in a desperate and vain attempt to wipe them.

"Don't cry Josuke." You reassured softly, "It makes me happy that you lived to be such a lovely and caring man."

"B-but... Y/N... I didn't even know you! I couldn't even save you! Now I can't even thank you!" He cried heavily, speaking his pain through his loud sobs.

You shook your head. "You being happy and in good health is enough for me. It means that my death had meaning."

"O-of course! I won't waste your sacrifice, trust me! I will live my life to the fullest and cherish every single day! I will make your death meaningful and worth it."

You leaned back just a slight bit to look into his soaking eyes. The gaze you wore was so full of love, his heart ached like needles pierced through it.

"You are priceless, Josuke. Thank you for being alive."

"Thank you for saving my life, Y/N." He finished awfully calm, dejected at his own helplessness.

You hugged him close to you and craddled him in an inexistant hold, but he still felt your warmth, somehow. He put his hands around your back, craving the feel of your body, something that he will never have.

After staying still, enjoying each other's presence one last time, you asked him permission with an airy voice that soothed him.

"Josuke, may I pass on...?"

"... You may."

And just like that, you faded away, towards the other side. Where you would finally meet with your ancestors, where all the Joestars and the Zeppelis were bound to meet again. Where he would hopefully join you one day.

Left alone in the silence of his room, he had finally accepted your fate and his.

Dressed in a black suit, Josuke walked the streets of Morioh, one hand holding a bouquet of flowers, and the other tucked in his pocket.

He couldn't care less of the fawns and whispers of the girls passing by him, complimenting how handsome he looked and how lucky the girl they assumed he was seeing must be.

He directed himself towards his dreaded destination. Contrary to what you see in fictions, the cemetary didn't hold a morose or scary ambiance at all.

It was comfortably silent. The air felt fresher here than in any other place in town. The only sound heard was his dress shoes hitting the gravel.

He walked slowly by the isles, eyes scanning the names and dates on the tombstones. Memorial of loved ones. Place of rest. It was relaxing.

After walking and searching for 10 more minutes, his eyes finally found the name he was looking for. It took all his self control to not run towards it.

'Here lies Y/N Zeppeli'

He sighed and sat down in front of the name. What-if scenarios kept on running through his mind. What if he had met you when you were alive? What if he had saved you?

"At the end of the day... You didn't even tell me how you died. How will I avenge you if I don't know who killed you?" He uttered as he gently laid the flowers on the grave.

A gust of icy cold wind suddenly washed over him, carressing his face. Strange, it was supposed to be a fairly warm day and the wind hasn't been blowing all day. He scoffed, which soon turned into a chuckle.

"Oh I see how it is. It's a sign, isn't it?" He paused and looked up at the clear yellow sky. "It's probably better if I don't know..." He whispered quietly to himself.

He felt like he needed a break from his bizarre adventure, and now was just the perfect moment.

He looked intently at your tombstone and how your name was neatly engraved in the mineral until he noticed a little crack on the upper side.

He gasped and scrambled to his knees to get a closer look at it. What the hell? Who dared damage your last home?

He glided his fingers along the lines of the crack and clicked his tongue. He then leaned in, and gently pressed his lips on it, using Crazy Diamond to fix it back.

He smiled at his handiwork, the stone looking brand new again. You deserved at least that.

"That's the least I could do for you."

Bonus:

One day as you were hanging out with Josuke, you looked around his room curiously. He then laid back lazily on his bed and looked up at you as you stopped to inspect one of his posters. His eyes suddenly widened, focusing on one particular thing.

"Hey! When you float over me like that I can see under your skirt!"

You gasped in disbelief. "What?! No way!"

You looked down at him and tensed up, flustered. He perked up in a sitting position to get a better view.

"OOOHOOH GHOST UNDIES!! NICE!!!" He roared in victory and you tried desperately to slap him, your hands flying right through him as he snickered.

"JOSUKE YOU BIG PERV!!! I'll give you sleep paralysis tonight!!" You threatened and he stopped, his expression shifting to panick.

"W-w-whoa hey you're not serious!! You can actually do that??"

Long as fuck. I didn't mean to make it heartbreaking, but shit happens.

Could crazy Diamond fix that fanfic?

[afaithy]

81 for Takari like their brothers are fighting again and one of them just goes "I'll take care of it"

I hope you enjoy it!

It was really fun to write lol

Just in case! This is sequel to I liked them blonde

SEND MORE ASKS: HERE

_____________________________________________________________

I’ll take care of it

“Dramatic is a classy word for being stupid.”

― Vivek Thangaswamy

Yamato was used to dealing with Taichi's strange occurrences. His friend was a good person, but his impulsiveness sometimes led him to make silly mistakes that he eventually regretted. A clear example of this was the sometimes ridiculous fights that the boy used to have with Sora at least once a month.

So when Taichi entered his room unannounced and without even asking for permission, Yamato was not surprised. Taichi looked irritated, that at least was clear to the naked eye. The question was ... why?

"You know, there’s something that normal people do...called knocking.” the blonde replied while he played a chord in his guitar.

“Forget about knocking.” Taichi replied, waving his hand in front of his face “We need to talk.”

“Wow...that almost sounds serious. Who let you in?”

“Takeru…” Taichi replied without giving it importance and this is serious.”

“Oh…” Yamato said, putting away the guitar and leaning back in his chair “Ok...so what did you do to annoy Sora?”

“It has nothing to do with Sora?” Taichi said with a frown” Everyone always ask me that.”

“Well, 60% of the times you comer angry or panicked is because you were stupid enough to say something to make her get angry.” Yamato shrugged “the other 40% splits into 30% due to something related to your sister and 10% some miscellaneous thing. So, what did you do? Did you tell her hat made her head look swollen again?”

“THat was when we were 12 years old and, in my defense, the hat did make her head look big.”

“Taichi...you just don’t tell those kinds of things to any girl.”

“Like I said I was 12, and this is irrelevant.” Taichi said, crossing his arms “No, it’s not about Sora.”

Yamato snorted. He leaned against his desk and looked at his friend with curiosity.

“So...what is it?”

“LIsten to me carefully, Yamato.” Taichi said, grabbing his friend’s shoulders “very carefully…”

Yamato was surprised by this gesture and he looked at Taichi dumbfounded.

“Yeah?”

“I think….damn...I can’t even say it.” Taichi said, turning away dramatically.

“Taichi, just spit it out.”

“Ahg...fine. I think Hikari has a crush on you!”

There was a brief moment of silence as both boys stared at each other, and then Yamato broke into a fit of laughter that made Taichi look at him confused. The boy couldn’t see what was so amusing about what he’d just say. 

“Sorry...I think I heard you wrong. What?” Yamato said, when  his laughter finally died away.

“You heard me right, ok?” Taichi replied, annoyed, “Hikari has a crush on you…”

“Yeah, right…” Yamato said skeptically “ That’s impossible. She thinks of me as another brother, so no way…”

“Well...believe it because she definitely hinted at it.”

“Are you sure you are not misreading things?” Yamato said, frowning, “It wouldn’t be the first time you misunderstand something.”

“No, I am sure I didn’t.” Taichi said firmly “That is why I decided to talk about it with you.”

“With me? What are you expecting me to do?”

“Well, yeah. Get yourself a girlfriend...or do something to make her lose interest!”

“Ok...hold on a second…” Yamato said “Why do you even think this is possible?”

“I did my research and there is a very high chance of girls her age to fall in love with older brotherly figures!”

“Ok...right, but if that is your reasoning,Jou and Koushiro could be an option, too. It doesn’t have to be me!”

Taichi let out a sigh. 

“I hate to admit this, but. You are probably the one who fits the good looking brotherly figure, the protagonist falls in love with…”

“That makes...wait. Did you say protagonist? Where the hell did you research on?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I paid a visit to the shoujo manga section.” Taichi replied, as if the matter was the most obvious thing to do.

“Ok...I don’t know if I should be annoyed or if I should laugh my ass off.” Yamato said , resting his hand on his forehead “Taichi, what in heaven’s name made you think that shoujo manga is actually  good reference material?”

“Why not?”

“Those are always so  dramatic, exaggerated and unrealistic.”

“Have you read them?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know?”

“It’s called common reasoning.” Yamato replied, rolling his eyes “Does Hikari even  read shoujo manga?”

“I don’t know...maybe? The point is...you are the cool bro. I mean...I am the coolest, but obviously I am not an option.”

Yamato let out a skeptical snort.

“I have a lot of things to say about that remark, but...for the time being, I’ll let it slip.” Yamato replied, frowning, “ Look...Hikari is a sweet girl and we get along, but she definitely has no crush on me.”

“But it HAS to be you. I mean you’re the one who fills up the profile.” Taichi groaned “i’ve been thinking about it for days! And it definitely has to be you!”

Yamato took a deep breath and pinched his temple. Taichi could be his best buddy, but sometimes, the guy could be a real fool.

“Ok...enlighten me.” Yamato said, crossing his arms. 

The blonde was pretty sure that nothing that Taichi could say would convince him that Hikari had -remotely- a crush on him. He was no expert with middle schoolers with crushes, but he had his own fan base, and he’d seen girls crushing on him before. Even if they tried to make it less obvious, you could tell easily: the way they couldn’t look straight at your face or how they wouldn’t speak freely with you.

Hikari was not like that. In fact, she was as natural with him as she always was or even worse. The girl even began teasing him about his fan base and he blamed that on Takeru.

“Ok.” Taichi began “It took me a lot of skillful talking to get this out of her but…”

Yamato snorted once more. Skillful talking, coming from Taichi, translated to popping his head in her room and randomly asking her things.

“For starters, she has a boy she likes.” Taichi said dramatically. “I know this would happen someday, but gosh...I was hoping it would be when she was 25 or something…”

“Taichi…”

“Yeah, sorry. Naturally, after hearing about that...I had to inquire. So it seems the guy is close to her. She said he’s always worrying about her and helps her whenever she needs it or not. She said it sort of made her feel safe, almost as safe as when she is with me. You notice? With me!”

Yamato rolled his eyes.

“But no matter how much I asked she wouldn’t tell who it is.” Taichi said, annoyed “Tell you? So that you can go and pester him around when he doesn’t even understand why? Forget it.” he added in a very poor impression of his sister “so...I had to take the clues I had and be smart and put the points together.Hikari has few boy friends, so it has to be so it has to be one of us...”

“So...you concluded it was me.” Yamato said, raising his eyebrow “You know that description is pretty generic. Everyone in our group acts like that with her. It could be anyone…”

“Ah...but there’s the thing. There IS one thing that totally points at you…”

“And that is…”

“She likes blondes.”

There was a short pause. Yamato stared at his friend in shock and disbelief. That little detail had automatically turned his friend’s attention to him when there was a second and -most likely the right one- person that fulfilled all those qualifications even better than himself.

Yamato was about to voice his thoughts when a soft knock at the door made both boys turn to the opening door. Takeru with his usual green hoodie and his fisherman’s hat poked his head into the room with an innocent grin.

Talk about the hen. Yamato thought with a smirk.

“Hey!” Takeru said “Just letting you know, Hikari -chan  texted me saying that she wanted to go grab ice cream in that new ice cream parlor in the park. Told her I would go with her, but I’ll probably be back by dinner. Do you want me to buy something on the way back?”

“Sure, why not?” Yamato replied. Taichi was staring at Takeru and Yamato couldn’t help but wonder if his neurons had finally pieced it together. 

“Oh, ok. Then see you in a bit. Bye Taichi-san!”

Takeru waved at them and left the room, closing the door. The two older boys stared at each other in his silence for a minute or two, until Taichi growled.

“Holy numemons….” Taichi said “Takeru is blonde!”

“How come you realized this until now?”

“Hey, don’t blame me! How do you expect me to remember such a thing when he’s always wearing those silly hats.”

“That’s no excuse…” 

“Damn it...I never considered Takeru! I was dead sure it was you….”

“Taichi...let it be. If Hikari has a crush on my brother let it be. You know he’s a good kid.”

“But...Hikari...what if he breaks her heart. He’s her best friend! Ah...this is even worse than you!”

“I’m sure it will be fine, Taichi.”

“How do you know?”

“Because...I know.”

“That’s not convincing at all.”

“Seriously. Don’t worry. I’ll take care  of it.”

And take care of it, he would. Yamato hadn’t pressed the matter with Takeru, since the boy was still in denial and he had thought the feelings were one sided. Taichi had just confirmed him otherwise, so there was no way he would let his little brother be an idiot any longer if he could help it. 

My Yamato turned out looking like a baby version of Cloud LoL

[choupichoups]

Blue [1/2]

Prompt: soulmate au

Eliott’s world has always been black and white. 

He’s not even being dramatic— he’s already seven years old, he’s too old to be dramatic. 

“That’s not the green marker!” He hears the teacher hiss out, exchanging quick whispers with the poor assistant who’d come running inside the room only minutes earlier. Looking up at the commotion, Eliott stares at the assistant’s bewildered expression and immediately determines that the girl is one of the lucky ones with the syndrome. 

The fancy adults call it the Soul Syndrome. Eliott likes to call it the Annoying Syndrome. 

“Can I borrow your red?” One of the few students still remaining in school taps him on the shoulder and Eliott shrugs, pushing his bucket of paint tubes forward. He can’t tell which one’s red and he’s too lazy to read the labels. 

You see, about forty percent of the world’s population are born with the Syndrome— the condition has them seeing in complete black and white until their one true love comes along, pokes them in the face, and suddenly the world bursts into colour. So basically Eliott has to put in the extra effort to make contact with everyone he meets just in case one of them happens to be his soulmate.

Eliott just wants to paint pretty pictures. It’s honestly very inconvenient. 

And what if his soulmate doesn’t show up until he’s like, ninety years old? How is he supposed to differentiate between a broccoli and a cauliflower meanwhile, huh? It makes eating his mama’s disgusting vegetables all the more stressful than it already is. 

He stands from his seat, looking out the window to check if his parents have already arrived, having to squint at the plate numbers on the parked cars because he obviously doesn’t know what colour their car is. He has to repeatedly memorize new plate numbers, especially when his dad is the weirdo with a strange obsession with exchanging cars every so often. Again, very stressful. 

The after school program only runs until a certain time, because teachers apparently don’t live in their classrooms (they eat and live lives outside of torturing students with big numbers and words with too many letters) and Eliott always ends up being one of the last students left in school. His parents work for the same company very far away from where they live and Eliott understands that they try their best to come early but he gets really bored of staying in one place all the time. 

No one can blame him for sneaking out of the classroom while the supervising teacher freaks out over her markers. 

He takes his bucket of paint tubes and the half finished artwork with him so he can finish up without the distracting screeches from the adults. He’s peacefully walking along the quiet hallway when one of the classroom doors slams open and a small child rams right into Eliott, careless like a spooked puppy. 

The impact has him losing grip of everything in his hold and Eliott falls on his bum on top of that. Honestly, can he just live one day without stress? The tubes are probably scattered all over the hallway and he can hear his bucket still clanging obnoxiously against the floor as it rolls and rolls and rolls. 

Eliott huffs, opens his eyes-- and almost screams immediately after.

The wide eyed boy huddled in front of him is not in black and white. 

In fact, nothing is in black and white. 

Eliott doesn’t know exactly what he’s seeing, but he’s certain that this is what colour looks like. 

The other boy’s eyes are swimming with tears but Eliott decides that no other colour can be as pretty as it is. 

“That’s ugly,” the other boy says, sniffing into his sleeves, pretty eyes trained on Eliott’s unfinished painting. 

Eliott looks down at it and, well, yes it’s a little ugly now but hey, it was really nice in black and white. He frowns, defensive over his ugly painting. “It’s called abstract.” He enunciates carefully, saying it exactly how his papa describes the other ugly paintings in their house. It’s the biggest word he knows so he’s hoping it might impress his soulmate. 

His soulmate doesn’t look impressed. 

“I don’t care, I don’t know what that means.” 

Eliott pouts. Great, even his soulmate is stressful. The other boy looks around in wonder, eyes eventually catching and lingering on Eliott’s shoelaces. His mama’s the one who fixes his shoelaces for him, Eliott only now sees how very bright the colours on them are. 

“What colour are those?” The little boy points at his shoes.

“I don’t know,” Eliott answers truthfully. “I just saw them now too.” 

“Oh.”

The big double doors of the front entrance slides open and Eliott immediately recognizes his mama as one of the two adults approaching. The other lady has very long hair and eyes almost as pretty as his soulmate’s. 

Eliott looks at the boy and asks frantically, “What’s your name?”

The boy blinks back at him. “Lucas.” 

Eliott’s lips spread into a big, toothy smile, standing up and dusting off his hands to make sure they’re clean enough before taking Lucas’ hand to pull him off the floor as well. Now that they’re standing upright, Eliott notices how teeny tiny his soulmate actually is. He giggles in delight. 

“Eliott!” His mama calls out, and Eliott gapes at the very bright colour tinting the bottom part of his mama’s hair. “What are you doing outside the classroom?” 

“But mama—”

“Lucas, what’s wrong baby?” The other lady asks, kneeling down to coo at her son. Eliott looks over to see the tears back in Lucas’ eyes. 

It’s official— seeing his soulmate cry is the worst thing in the world. Even worse than brussel sprouts. 

“I was napping and then I woke up alone in the classroom!” Lucas blubbers out, sniffing as tears pour down his face. “I thought you forgot about me,” he finishes off, looking miserable. 

Lucas’ mom reaches out but Eliott is closer so he takes it upon himself to wrap the smaller boy into his arms, copying the way his parents hug him every time he feels sad. It’s always the best feeling in the world so he wants to share it with his Lucas. 

“Don’t cry, Lulu, even if they forget you, I won’t!” 

“I don’t even know you,” Lucas muffles into his shoulder and goodness gracious it’s just Eliott’s luck to have a soulmate so rude. No manners, this one. 

“I’m Eliott!” He pulls away to place a big kiss on Lucas’ forehead. “I’ll be here from now on, so don’t ever cry again, okay?”

Lucas just looks at him with his big, shiny eyes and slowly shuffles away, hiding behind his mother’s skirt. Eliott pouts. 

His mama is laughing at him. Both of their mamas are laughing actually. 

“Did you make a friend, Lucas?” Lucas’ mom asks, running a hand through her son’s hair. 

“I’m not just his friend, he’s gonna marry me,” Eliott says as he walks around collecting all the paint back inside his bucket. He hears a strange sound behind him and sees the two women bent over in laughter. Adults are so weird. His eyes move down to Lucas but he can only see little hands gripping tightly onto the long haired lady’s skirt. 

“Come on, Eliott, let’s go home.” His mama holds out a hand for him but Eliott frowns— he knows that voice. She doesn’t believe what he’s saying. Eliott will show them. 

Peeking around the other lady’s skirt, Eliott mumbles a polite, “Excuse me,” as he goes to search for Lucas’ pretty eyes again. “I’ll give this to you,” he says, all firm and serious like his papa pretends to be during work parties. 

Lucas looks down at the painting. “No, thank you.”

“What, why?”

“It’s still ugly.”

“I said it’s abstract.” Eliott stomps his foot. He hears a snort from above them but his eyes are glued on Lucas. He frowns, feeling himself tear up out of frustration— how does he convince Lucas to accept his token of love?

The painting gets taken from him so quickly that Eliott thinks he’s accidentally dropped it, but when he looks up, Lucas’s hugging it in his arms, eyebrows all scrunched up in concern. 

“Don’t cry,” Lucas says. “It’s not that ugly, I guess.”

Aha. Eliott knew it. He’s going to be a world-renowned painter one day. 

“Okay, Eliott, we really have to go, your dad’s waiting.” His mama takes the bucket of paint with one hand and drags Eliott away with the other.

“Wait!”

“You’ll see Lucas again on Monday.”

“Wait, I have to do something!” Eliott wiggles out of her hold and runs back to Lucas, who’s studying Eliott’s painting with his mama. 

“Lucas!” 

The little boy looks up, confused that Eliott’s back again. Eliott runs straight at him, knowing that his mama really wants to go home now so he’s got to hurry.

He stops in front of his soulmate, grinning big and bright, before leaning in to smack a quick kiss on his lips, just like he’s seen in those Disney movies. 

Lucas promptly bursts out crying. 

Eliott plays with his paintbrushes on the way home. They’re all dried now so it doesn’t stain when he runs his fingers over the bristles. 

Noticing that one of them looks almost the same (not as bright, not as sparkly) as Lucas’ eyes, he bounces up in his seat to ask, “Mama, what colour is this?” He shoves the paintbrush in between the two front seats, wiggling the tinted brush around. 

His papa takes a deep breath and his mama smiles. They do their weird eye contact juju where they don’t speak but somehow smile and nod at each other anyway. Adults are weird. 

“That’s blue.”

“You like that colour, Eliott?” His papa asks, looking like he’s about to cry for some reason. Eliott hopes he’s not sad cause then Eliott will be sad and it just won’t be a fun Friday night for anyone.

“Yes!” He answers, giddy as he thinks about his cute soulmate. “It’s my favourite.”

“Do we have a name?” Papa whispers towards Mama. 

“Lucas,” Mama responds and Eliott perks up at the mention of the name.

“I’m gonna marry him!” He declares to no one in particular, running his eyes over his paintbrush. Blue blue blue. 

“When are you planning to do that?” Papa chuckles.

“On Monday.” 

The chuckles turn to choking. Papa must have breathed wrong, it happens to Eliott sometimes too. “How ‘bout we slow down a bit, huh, little man?”

“But I already kissed him, we can marry now.”

“What?” 

“Long story,” Mama says, rolling her eyes as she smiles. “Maybe wait a little before marrying him, hm baby?”

“Why?” 

“Because he’s too young.”

“Why?” 

“He’s not a big boy yet, not like you.” 

“Oh, ok. I’ll just keep kissing him then!”

Papa makes a weird, squeaky noise. “Maybe wait for that too.” 

“Why?”

“Remember, Eliott, too young.” 

“When should I kiss him?”

There’s a short silence, with Eliott watching his parents make tight lips and wide eyes at each other, shaking their heads and nodding at odd intervals. He’d be concerned if this didn’t happen on a regular basis.  

“Wait until he’s... fifteen.” Papa flounders. Mama rolls her eyes, knocking her head back into the seat while Papa shrugs helplessly. 

Eliott frowns, that’s so long. But for Lucas, he’ll wait. He has manners and such.

Then maybe Lucas won’t cry next time since he’ll be a big boy like Eliott. 

[chain-unchained]

September 2

There really was nothing like a crisp autumn morning. The cool breeze, the smell of falling leaves, the crunch they made underfoot, the vivid colors that painted the landscape… It was like the entire valley had been set on fire, except it was just beautiful instead of destructive.

Autumn was also the busiest season for farmers. There was much work that needed to be done in preparation for a long winter—crops to plant, hay to stockpile, coops (and now a barn) to weatherize. There was also the rapidly upcoming Stardew Valley Fair to prepare for, an event that Ashe was much more nervous about than he even realized.

But there was no time to even think about the fair at the moment, not when there was work to do. “Just… a couple… more… whacks….. there.” Ashe huffed as he finished securing the wooden fence he’d erected around his newly expanded fields. They’d gotten big enough to separate into different sections to allow for crop rotation, meaning he shouldn’t have to drop so much money on fertilizer to keep the soil healthy. “Okay! Let’s see about getting those sprinklers set up…”

A hand reached out from behind him and lightly grabbed the side of Ashe’s head, pulling him back ever so slightly. “Talking to yourself again?” Shane asked with a raised brow as he looked down to Ashe’s surprised face.

“Ah—” The sight of him made Ashe’s eyes light up, and he somewhat awkwardly twisted himself around to throw his arms around his boyfriend. “Shane~! What are you doing here, I thought you worked on Mondays?”

“I do.” Shane grinned at the enthusiastic reaction to seeing him, loosely hooking his arms around Ashe’s waist as he hugged him back. “Sam wanted to pick up an extra shift this week though, and instead of forking out to have an extra employee on a Monday Morris just told me to not come in today.” He shrugged nonchalantly; it was no skin off his nose, he was fine with trading some free time for a smaller paycheck. “Oh oh, look at this.”

With an uncharacteristic amount of glee, he dug a rolled up magazine out from his pocket and flipped to a full two-page spread article and held it out so Ashe could see. “My blue chickens were featured in this month’s issue of the Poultry Periodical!”

“No way!” Ashe shifted to stand beside Shane, craning his neck so he could quickly read over the article. Sure enough, there it was in black and white—well, full color, a picture of Shane standing with a few of those beautiful blue hens he had raised so carefully, alongside a long article praising the unique plumage and rich eggs that the birds produced. “Aaaah, that’s awesome Shane! Congratulations!”

Shane’s chest swelled with pride. “Heh, thanks. Yoba, I feel… I actually feel really proud of myself.” He still couldn’t quite believe it himself, even as he stared down at the proof in his hands. He was in a magazine. Not just as a little footnote, but actually in a full spread, with quotes from an interview he’d given the author over the phone a couple of weeks ago. It really felt like he was getting his life together. “I’m gonna get this article framed. I’m so fucking happy.”  

“You should be!” Ashe took hold of Shane’s hands and beamed up at him. “You’ve been working hard, you deserve the recognition.”

“You think so?” Shane asked, his face flushing a little as Ashe stood on his tiptoes and shyly pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Ohh… Was that my reward?”

  “I-It could be, if you wanted.” Ashe’s cheeks were red as well as he rested back on his feet; they were still getting used to the idea of being together, still in that sort of awkward phase where they weren’t sure how much physical affection they should be showing.

Still, Shane couldn’t deny that it was a good reward. “Well now I just want to earn another.” He admitted with a grin as he rubbed the back of his neck. “… So what have you been up to? I barely got to see you yesterday.”

“Ah, I’m sorry…” Ashe poked his fingertips together guiltily. “I just had so much stuff I wanted to get done…”

“I can tell.” Shane looked around at the farm, whistling as he took in everything that had changed since he last visited; the fields had at least doubled in size, as did the free range space for the hens and the pasture space for the barn animals. “How’s that baby heifer doing?”

“Oh, you mean Hanako? She’s doing great~” As if on cue, he felt something tugging at his sleeve. “Ah, speak of the devil, there she is.” He laughed, lifting his arm to reveal the fat little calf who was eagerly trying to eat the fabric. “I think she’s trying to tell me it’s feeding time.”

“She’s looking pretty good.” Shane commented, as Ashe dug a large calf-sized bottle from his rucksack to feed her with; it had only been a week since Ashe took her home, and she’d already grown quite a lot in just that short period of time. “You sure it’s okay to let her roam like this, though?”

“Mmhm.” Ashe held the bottle upside down to simulate a cow’s udder, and Hanako eagerly latched on, her ears twitching as she went to town on the formula inside. “Hanako’s a good girl, she doesn’t wander very far. Do you, sweetie? No, that’s right, cos you’re the goodest of girls~” Even though the calf was quite clearly focused on sucking down as much formula as possible, she obviously heard Ashe’s praise, her tail swishing back and forth energetically like a dog’s would.

It was on an impulse that Ashe decided to take the little heifer, whose mother had sadly passed away during labor. Shane and Marnie had been wondering what to do about the poor little thing, since raising an orphan took a huge amount of effort—and there was no guarantee that, even with the best care, they would make it. But when Ashe had looked at Hanako’s sweet little face, he insisted then and there that Marnie let him buy her. From the looks of things, it seemed like it was working out pretty well.

“You sure have a way with animals.” Shane observed, tucking the magazine back into his jacket and then shoving his hands into his pockets. As he thought about it, though, he began to comprehend just how much Ashe was taking on. “... You sure you can handle all of this?” He asked, taking another look around; those fields were pretty expansive at this point, making up the bulk of the work that Ashe did on the farm—it had to take him a good couple of hours to get the soil watered every day. He’d filled up the coop as well by that point, and Shane could hear the hens happily clucking away as they searched for little bugs to graze on. Now there was Hanako, a baby who needed constant attention and supervision. And that was just everything that was on the farm, not even accounting for the stuff that Ashe got up to around town.

“Yup!” Ashe pried the bottle away from Hanako once it was completely empty. “If I didn’t think I could manage, I wouldn’t be doing all of it.” He smiled cheerily up at Shane and thumped his fist against his chest confidently. “There’s nothing to worry about! I’ve got everything under control.”

“If you say so…” Shane found it hard to believe, but he just had to trust that Ashe knew his limits.

“Besides, I’m working on ways to make things easier.” Ashe gestured for Shane to follow him over to the shed; he rummaged around inside for a minute, before pushing out a wheelbarrow filled to the brim with a sprinkler system just waiting to be installed. “I dropped some serious G on this~ It’ll cut down on my watering work by at least half!” His eyes sparkled. “That means I can plant even more crops!”

“That’s good, but don’t overdo it, okay?” Shane could feel sweat forming on his forehead just thinking about the amount of work Ashe was piling onto himself. “What kind of crops are you growing?”

Pleasantly surprised by the question, Ashe led him over to the fields to show him. “Let’s see… this field has yams, beets and artichokes.” He began, climbing up onto the wooden fence and leaning on the top as he spoke. “Then this one has cranberries and eggplants. That little one off to the left near the beehouses I’ve filled with fairy rose, since it’ll make the bees nice and happy~ I’ve also got some green grapevines started near there too—green grapes are the best grapes—and then this field here,” he gestured to the one directly before them, “is entirely pumpkins. I spent most of my earnings from last season just on pumpkin seeds.”

“That’s… a lot of pumpkins.” Shane leaned against the fence as well. It was a lot of crops just in general. “Would you be willing to save a pumpkin for me when they come in? Jas already won’t stop talking about wanting to carve her own jack-o-lantern this year.” He grinned a little and continued, “Marnie doesn’t want to let her handle any knives, but the kid’s gotta live a little. Besides, it can be our little secret.”

“Aww, you’re so evil.” Ashe giggled a little at Shane’s plans. “Of course I’ll save a pumpkin for you guys… Actually, why don’t you bring her here to pick out one when they’re all ready to be harvested? That way she can get the perfect pumpkin.”

“You sure?” Shane rubbed his chin in thought. “She’d probably get a kick out of that. But yeah, if that’s fine with you then it’s fine with me. I appreciate it.”

Ashe gave him a million dollar smile. “The perks of dating a farmer~” He joked playfully. “Seriously, though, if you guys need anything that I’m growing just let me know.”

“What, you’re going to put in all that hard work and just give everything away?” Shane lightly bopped the top of his head. “You’re too generous for your own good.”

“Who, me? Not even.” Ashe just laughed.

It felt really nice to just take a break and talk like this. It was always nice, of course, when he and Shane had gotten together and hung out before they started dating, but now it was even more fun and relaxing.

“Would you two kindly take your flirting to another room?” And then there was Percy breaking up their good time, having been listening to their conversation from his side of the farm. “Not everyone wants to see that, you know.” The posh rancher clucked his tongue as he came up to the dividing fence on horseback, as if to show off his purebreed stallion while he shit all over their fun.

“Why don’t you fuck off and mind your own business, asshole?” Shane snorted, his smile instantly evaporating into a scowl at the interruption.

Elegantly dismounting the horse, Percy let out a dramatic sigh. “Always so quick to jump to expletives. Surely your vocabulary is larger than that.”

“C’mon Percy, could you please leave us alone?” Ashe was slightly exasperated by his rival’s presence. “We’ll keep our voices down a bit if it bothers you that much, okay--?”

“Ashe, don’t.” Shane insisted, refusing to let Ashe pander like that to someone who didn’t deserve it. “Nothing’s stopping him from getting back on that horse and going somewhere he can’t see or hear us.”

“And nothing’s stopping you two from taking it elsewhere.” Percy pointed out, daintily pointing his finger towards one of the numerous exits off the property. “It’s not like there’s anything of note to see on his farm, anyway. I don’t know why he was so proud to show it off to you.”

Steam practically poured out of Ashe’s ears at the comment. “We’ll see if you still think that way when my grange display beats yours at the fair.” He responded, absolutely fuming at the insults being hurled at his hard work.

“Oh? You seriously think you have a chance of winning?” Percy laughed haughtily. “My dear farmboy, your chances of winning at the fair are about the same as you winning our bet—that is to say, slim to none.” His condescending eyes fell upon Hanako, who had been following Ashe around like a puppy the whole time. “Oh my word, and now you’ve gone and picked up a poor little calf. I feel sorry for the little thing. In fact, I’m tempted to take her off your hands. How much would it take for you—”

“Screw. You.” Ashe went from fuming to livid at Percy’s offer. “She’s not for sale.” Worried that he might actually blow his lid if this continued, he took hold of Hanako’s lead in one hand and Shane’s hand in the other and pulled them both along, away from Percy, who triumphantly smirked after them.

“How do you put up with having him as a neighbor?” Shane asked incredulously, as Ashe practically dragged them over to the pasture so he could put Hanako in it.

“I don’t know.” Ashe’s hands were shaking as he pushed the gate open and let Hanako in. “I’m actually so angry right now that I can’t think straight. Does he really think that I’m so desperate for money that I’ll just sell family members like that?” Yes, to him each and every animal on his farm was his family, and he wouldn’t trade any of them for anything.

Seeing the way that Ashe was trembling, Shane reached out and pulled him back into a hug. “Deep breaths.” He murmured, calling on one of the coping techniques his therapist had taught him. “I’m pissed too, but don’t let that asshole get to you like this.”

“Rrrg…” Reluctantly, Ashe took several deep breaths at Shane’s encouragement. Something had to change between him and Percy; he didn’t think he could handle much more of that antagonizing. “… Can we take a walk or something? I think I just need to get away for a few minutes…”

“Sure.” Shane released Ashe from his arms so the farmer could latch and lock the gate, and give Hanako a hug through the gaps in the fence. “You know what, I think I know where we can go. Unless you had something in mind, of course.”

Curious, Ashe cocked his head to the side; he certainly didn’t have anywhere specific in mind he wanted to go. “No, I don’t…. where are we going, then?”

 Early on in the summer, a rare earthquake had hit the valley; it wasn’t anything serious, no damage had been reported or anything, it had just been enough to startle the townsfolk (and the animals, who were pretty freaked out for awhile after). But what it had done was break up the rockfall that had been blocking the path to mountains north of Robin’s workshop. The path itself was winding and a little steep at parts, eventually opening up into a clearing where a single train track ran through, with an old abandoned train station serving as a reminder of the town’s history as a mining town. A little further past that stood a bath house, which somehow had survived the test of time and remained mysteriously well maintained and clean—and functional, though that wasn’t the reason why Shane wanted to bring Ashe there.

“Huff… huff….” More than a little winded, Shane kept a firm hold on Ashe’s left hand as he led the curious farmer to a lookout point just beyond the back of the bathhouse. “Yoba, I’m out of shape… O-Okay, we’re here.”

The entirety of the valley stretched out for hundreds of miles before them, making Ashe’s eyes widen in awe. It was the sort of view that made you hold your breath, the kind that people would travel for days just to get a brief glimpse of. “I didn’t even know this was here…”

“I-I didn’t either, not until Sam told me about it during one of our lunch breaks.” Shane let go of Ashe’s hand and doubled over, planting his hands against his knees as he tried to catch his breath. “Hell of a view, isn’t it? We’re so far away from the rest of town, you could probably yell at the top of your lungs and nobody would be able to hear it.”

“….” Ashe looked thoughtful for a few seconds, before bringing his hands up to cup around his mouth. “AAAAAAAAAASSHOOOOOOOOOOOOLE!” He yelled as loud as he could, putting all of his pent up anger and frustration at Percy into his voice. It was extremely cathartic, and he could practically feel all those negative emotions leaving him with the air in his lungs.

Shane couldn’t help but snicker as he straightened up, and the echo of Ashe’s voice faded away. “I yelled that exact same thing when I first came here.” He commented with a grin, as Ashe let his hands fall back to his side. “I was really pissed off at Morris that day. Probably spent a good hour just calling him every name I could think of. Hell, I’m pretty sure I even made up a few. So, feel any better?”

“A little bit, yeah.” Ashe smiled sheepishly at him as he clasped his hands behind his back. He could tell that the walk there had really taken a lot out of Shane, no matter how much he was trying to play it off. “Thanks, Shane. I really appreciate you bringing me here.”

That smile made the walk up the mountain completely worth it to Shane. “I’m glad it helped.” He smiled a little himself, hooking his thumbs into his pockets as he looked out to the valley stretching out before them. “Everyone needs a place they can go to get away.”

A peaceful quiet fell between the two as they stood there, taking in the view and enjoying the pleasantly warm breeze that was blowing. The weather would only be getting colder from then on, but that day, it was perfect. It was only when Hanako’s feeding timer went off in Ashe’s rucksack, reminding them of the passage of time, that they began the trip back down the mountain path, parting ways once they got to the carpenter’s shop—as much as Ashe wanted to, he couldn’t monopolize Shane’s time, not when his days off were going to be getting scarcer and scarcer with the coming rainy season.

‘I’m going to make sure those pumpkins are the best pumpkins in the whole valley.’ He thought to himself as he took the backroads path back to the farm, filled with renewed vigor and determination to outdo his rival. Even more than that, he was going to make sure that every kid in the valley would have a chance to come and pick one out if they wanted, and to do that, he would need to start making some flyers…

[purplebenjy]

2005-Part 1

“I’m not going to know how to talk to them.”

He’s pacing in front of the couch, Darling following his every turn. Benjy’s been muttering to himself on and off in Gujarti for the past ten minutes or so, meaning Cass could still continue to read whatever incredibly thick and dense book he was reading. It was supposedly fiction, and not assigned reading and therefore ‘for fun’ and Benjy didn’t understand how he was able to fit that in on top of grad school work, nor what the hell the story was supposed to be about even though Cass had patiently explained it at least three times.

Saying something in English, however, gains his boyfriend’s attention. Benjy hears the book thud close but he doesn’t stop moving.

“I’m not gonna go.”

“You are gonna go. You’ve been talking about this and been so excited for the past two weeks.”

Benjy stops to face Cass, taking a moment to let himself admire the view. His hair was short enough that it was curling around his forehead and over the tops of his ears-he needed a hair cut, but he was letting it go back to his natural color, which Benjy loved almost as much as he loved Cass. His newly acquired wire glasses were perched on the end of his nose and they magnified his eyes-Benjy could see the little crease when he smiled. He was wearing a white and blue striped shirt that Benjy had bought him cause he thought it made him look like a pirate with black jeans. He’d painted his nails yellow the night before, but, as usual, all Benjy can do is stare at his lip piercing.

“Benj.”

He looks into his boyfriend’s eyes and sighs.

“Don’t give me that sexy professor look, you know it works on me.”

Cass raises his eyebrows at him.

“The disappointed ‘I can’t believe you’re joking about that’ look works on me too, Cassie.”

“You’re deflecting.”

Benjy whines closes the short distance to the couch, replacing the book with himself on Cass’s lap.

“Maybe.”

“Not maybe.”

He presses his face into the front of Cass’s shoulder and sighs.

“What if they don’t like me?”

“Wanna try that again and look at me? Perhaps looking at me and not muffled?”

“No.”

“Benj.”

“Don’t Benj me.” He says, sitting up and tracing the shell of his ear.

“It worked.”

“Didn’t.”

Cass catches his hand and pulls Benjy into a kiss. He feels himself relax against Cass’s touch, letting out a sigh.

“What if they don’t like me?”

Cass smiles at him softly.

“I don’t think that’s humanly possible.”

“I’m being serious.”

Cass shifts on the beanbag, causing them both to sink in more.

“I am too. Speaking as a former teen admitted against his will in a psych ward, I would’ve liked you.”

Benjy smiles. He’d been feeling stuck the past couple of months since graduation-the agents who had shown interest in his work at his showcase hadn’t had time to meet with him yet-though he had a few voicemails insisting they’d make some time for him in the next couple of months. He’d vented about it at group, talked about how he was trying not to be so hard on himself and not let this be any sort of ‘proof’ to what Forest had said about Benjy not being able to find success on his own. Bernie, their facilitator, had pulled him aside after to tell him about the art therapy volunteer program at the same hospital that ran their program. After a background check that was shockingly clean, he was all set up to teach patients painting skills, giving them something to do while in recovery, a positive outlet. His first session was today, and he’d specifically requested teenagers, for a lot of reasons but the main one was currently wrapping his arms around Benjy’s waist.

“What if I don’t know what to say?”

“Hasn’t happened yet.”

Benjy laughs softly and brings their lips together for another kiss. He doesn’t have to leave for another hour and he’s had his stuff packed since he’d woken up that morning. He presses himself against Cass’s chest and closes his eyes, only opening them when he hears the sound of a page turning.

“Are you reading right now? While I’m moping?”

“You’re not moping out loud.”

“Hmm.”

He tries and fails to glare at Cass’s smile.

“Can I uh, ask you one more question and then I’ll leave you alone?”

Cass pushes his glasses up on his nose and Benjy reaches up for another kiss before he responds.

“That’s not true, but sure.”

He looks away from his boyfriend, his attention drawn to the faint scars he can see at the top of Cass’s forearms.

“It’s pretty stupid-”

“I guarantee it’s not.”

“Is it scary? To be there?”

Cass nods slowly, his eyes looking up and away like he always did when he was thinking.

“Like to visit? Or to be there?”

“Both, I guess.” Benjy says, shifting so he can properly trace the lines on Cass’s arms. “I feel like a coward for even asking.”

“Benj.”

He doesn’t have to say anything else, he rarely does.

“Okay, not a coward just...I don’t know. I wanna be prepared, I guess.”

Cass nods again.

“Yes, it’s scary. Not like those movies I make you watch it’s more...jarring I think would be the better word. Cause there’s sick people all around you and they’ll all kind of look like it. With the scrubs or gowns or sweats they’ve got on. And it was scary to be there, obviously but…” He taps lightly three times on the back of Benjy’s hand.

“It’s also a place that makes people better. And it’s obviously a good one if they’re doing something like this-once I realized that, at least kind of, it made it a little less scary. Some of the kids you’re gonna be with might be there, some of them might be scared--and some of them probably aren’t gonna care. That’s where I was for a lot of it, Benj. Just kind of...there, I guess, until they got me talking to Kevin and stuff…”

Cass trails off and Benjy bends forward to kiss some of the scars on his left arm.

“I’m glad you’re here, baby.”

Cass smiles at him, lifting his head slightly and cupping his face with his right hand.

“Me too. “

~

The staff had been almost too friendly and enthusiastic, chattering away about how they’ve been trying to find someone who fit to do this for a long time. Benjy made small talk easily, but couldn’t really focus, a little too worried about how it was going to go.

“And I’ll be in there, just in case anyone needs assistance-and truthfully because I’d like to pick up a thing or two, too.” Benjy smiles at that, reading the name ‘Dorcas’ on the nurse’s ID tag. She leaves him to set up, telling him he’s going to have three patients plus herself. He puts a few pieces of the weird paperboard canvas they’d told him to buy (no staples) and a bunch of non toxic paints at each of the little tables they’d set out. He smiles to himself at the rickety old easel someone (probably Dorcas) had put out for him, and decides to use it instead of his travel one. He puts his bags in the corner of the room closest to him and waits, rocking back and forth on his heels. He’d turned in his cellphone at the front desk, and he was too jittery to try to text right now anyway. He grabs one of the soft lead pencils he’d set out and starts sketching, instantly relaxing and almost calm by the time Dorcas and her patients came in. The first was a teenage girl with long, dirty, blonde hair, so thin Benjy could see her ribs through her grey sweatshirt. She shot him a shakey smile and sat down at the first table, right beside Dorcas who reached over and gave her a hand a squeeze as soon as she sat down herself. The second was a boy who was only a little taller than Benjy with very dark circles under his eyes and a weird sort of shuffle walk, he didn’t look up when he entered the room and sat at the middle table. The third was a girl who looked absolutely and totally average-a big shock of curly brown hair that went down to her shoulders-frizzy but well cared for. She had poked thumb holes through her sweatshirt sleeves and had them pulled up to her knuckles-she already looked bored and raised her eyebrows skeptically at Benjy’s set up before sliding into a seat at the back table. Four pairs of eyes were on him now, and Benjy takes a breath before grinning at them.

“Hi, uh, you probably already know why you’re here, but-I’m Benjy. I...Bernie, who i think some of you know, he’s helped me to get better, he’s helped me a lot, but um, nothing’s really helped me feel better like painting has.”

“Not even meds?”

The girl in the back has a glint in her eyes that makes Dorcas frown and turn around, but Benjy laughs.

“Fair enough. Almost nothing has made me better than painting. That work for you?”

She shrugs. Benjy continues.

“Art uh, it’s actually helped a lot of people for a long time. Which sounds like I’m making it up, but I promise I’m not. I’m not really good at talking in front of people really but…”

He shuffles some stuff around on his easel and turns it to them, showing them a print of Starry Night.

“Vincent Van Gogh was an impressionist painter--that was a period of art in the 1870s and 1880s-a fucking long time ago-I probably shouldn’t swear, huh?”

Dorcas kind of shrugs and Benjy laughs.

“Well anyway, Vincent struggled for a really long time but there’s evidence through letters and stuff that he wrote when he was around that painting made him feel better. He’s considered one of the best artists ever, and he did a lot of his work when he was in hospitals to get better. I don’t know if any of you guys care about that, but I thought it was pretty neat. So-uh, one of the styles in Vincent’s time period was to like, make a bigger picture out of little shapes. Like dots or squares. That’s what I thought we could try to today but uh, for me, the best part of painting is you can do whatever you want. So let’s just go-”

He catches himself before he says ‘go nuts’. Nice one, Benjy.

“Let’s just go-”

“Van Gogh?” The girl in the back pipes up. Benjy laughs.

“Sure. Paint whatever you want. Just kind of...let it out, you know? You can paint what you’re feeling, you can paint something you want, something you think is cool, something you hate...it’s literally always up to you, you know? You’re in control of what you make. I always liked that.”

He pulls his own table over to everyone else’s and starts setting up.

“I think we’ll just kind of sit here and make shit-if that’s okay with you guys?”

Dorcas, the boy and the blonde girl both nod and Benjy smiles. The girl in back already has a paint brush out and is getting to work.

“I’m gonna do that impressionist thing I was talking about, if anyone wants to do it with me.If you have any questions just ask.”

“I have one.”

Curly girl dips her brush into the black and makes eye contact with him.

“Shoot.”

“What fucked you up?”

“Deena!” Dorcas turns around in her chair, obviously pissed, but Benjy laughs, dipping his brush into the blue and speaking as he starts to do a background wash.

“No, no, it’s okay. Really. I was in a very emotionally and physically abusive relationship when I was nineteen. I was able to get out-which I’m very grateful for-but the person I was involved with was in a position of authority over me and it was incredibly damaging and stressful.”

Benjy starts mixing a purple and glances up at Deena. She addresses her canvas as she speaks.

“So you got beaten up by a girl?”

“Sorry about her.” The blonde girl speaks in an impossibly soft yet somehow fierce voice. “She’s attention starved.”

“You’re not supposed to bring up shit we talk about in group, Katie.”

“You’re also not supposed to make someone else share their story if they don’t want to.” Katie retorts, a flash of fire appearing in her expression. She holds up her canvas to show Benjy, she’s made a tiny sun out of yellow dots.

“Is that okay?”

He smiles.

“That’s great, Katie. But you don’t have to show me, I’m not grading you or anything-if you like it then it’s perfect.”

She nods, her lips tight as she scruntizes her work and then dips her brush back into the yellow.

“And to answer your question, Deena. No, I wasn’t beaten up by a girl-though that does happen, anyone can be abusive. But my abuser was in fact another man.”

“It was?”

The boy looks up for the first time really, his whole demeanor changing and making Benjy’s heart break in half at the wonder in his voice. Benjy nods.

“Yeah. He wasn’t great, but my new boyfriend is.”

“And your parents are cool with it?”

Benjy bites on the inside of his cheek and takes a breath, looking down at the paint so he doesn’t have the wrong reaction.

“Mine are but...Cass’s weren’t as cool. My mom’s the coolest person in the world, actually, so pretty hard to beat. But, you know, Cass and I kind of made our own family. It was hard for him for a little bit but he’s uh-I mean not to toot my own horn, but I’m pretty amazing and I think I make him happy.”

He glances over at Dorcas, who seems only to be concerned with the boy, not reacting at all to Benjy outing himself. He should’ve figured as much given that he knew Bernie from a support group for LGBTQA victims of partner violence, but still. It was nice to know he could be as much as himself as he wanted to.

“That’s good.” The boy says quietly, picking up his paintbrush for the first time. They play with the paint for another fifteen minutes or so, just making small talk which mostly consisted of Deena asking a variety of personal and art related questions.

“Okay I’m gonna come around and see if I can give you any tips. I’m hardly an expert-”

“Whoa.” The boy, who Benjy knew was named RJ, was staring at the painting on Benjy’s table. It was a portrait loosely based on Cass, per usual, but he was all different shades of purple triangles. “You didn’t tell us you were good.”

Benjy laughs.

“Good is relative.”

“I’m not impressed.”

“Thanks, Deena.”

He encourages Katie to be a little looser with her strokes, guiding her hand into a more flowing motion as she paints a sea scape. Dorcas had a canvas completely covered in red spots that she told Benjy was either a fire or a tomato fight. He showed her how to try to make shading. RJ had just painted a bunch of triangles fitting together, all impossibly small and not colored in. Benj had given him a half assed explanation of color theory and moved back to Deena. He had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. Her entire canvas was covered in penises with angel wings on them. When she glances up, a big grin on her face, Benjy tries to keep his face neutral.

“You said to paint what we wanted.”

“Interesting interpretation. Are you going for a realistic rendering or do you want it to be more cartoonish?”

He sees surprise cross her face. Benjy guessed she was waiting for him to lose his patience, to tell her she was being innapropriate, get mad at her for not taking it seriously. He smiles pleasantly at her-waiting for her response.

“Um...what do you think?”

Benjy shrugs. “Doesn’t matter what I think. It’s not my painting. I can show you how to do both.”

Deena blinks down at them.

“I say cartoony cause it’s a little-”

“Ridiculous?” Benjy says, his smile growing. Deena laughs for the first time, and Benjy almost thinks he hears embarrassment in her voice.

“Yeah.”

“I like it, it’s hilarious. And even if it’s ridiculous, if it makes you feel good to paint it, who gives a shit, right? If you make the lines a little bolder on one end and then have it taper off towards the other, you can kind of give them a little like, comic book-y effect, do you wanna try?”

He watches her try and nods.

“Good, now do that however many times you’ve uh, made one of those.”

“There’s sixty-nine of them.”

“Ah, yes, of course.”

Deena laughs again. Benjy glances up at Dorcas and finds actual surprise on her face which leads him to believe that this isn’t a side to Deena seen all of the time.

“Don’t get paint on your sleeves, or I mean do. Everything I own is covered in paint.”

“I don’t think I technically own this.”

Deena rolls up her sleeves and Benjy is glad she’s focused on her painting so she can’t see the change in his face he knows is there. The bandages up her arms are white save for almost perfect lines of rust red at three places on her wrists.

“You’re doing great, D.” Benjy says, keeping his voice even as he swallows against the emotion in his throat. Deena whips her head up at him.

“Did you just call me D?”

“Oh-yeah, sorry. I won’t if you don’t want me to. My family has a thing with nicknames-”

She smiles at him, a real smile. A sad smile. A scared smile.

“No, it’s ok. My family does too. That’s what my parents call me. I like it.”

“It suits you.” Benjy says, watching her work.

“Cause I’m a dick?”

Benjy laughs.

“Not what I was going for, but sure. Sure.”

Their hour passes quickly, and when they’re done, Dorcas promises to be right back after she takes Katie to her room. Rj nods at him, holding his painting close to his chest. Deena pulls her sweatshirt sleeves down and marches to the front of the room, presenting Benjy with the flying dicks.

“Here. Something to remember me by.”

Benjy laughs.

“Well first of all, you’re fairly unforgettable. Second of all, I’m coming back next week.”

Deena’s face lights up.

“Really?”

“Yeah I mean if y’all want me back-”

“We do.” Deena actually blushes, realizing how quickly she’d spoken. She pushes the painting at him again.

“I still want you to have it.”

“I can’t take it until you sign it, dude. A true artist always signs it.”

“Oh good call, it’s gonna be worth millions some day.”

Deena takes the pencil Benjy’s holding and scribbles something in the corner before pressing the painting and pencil back into his hands.

“See you next week.”

She smiles at him again before stomping out of the room, picking at the sleeve of her sweatshirt. Benjy looks down at the hastily scribbled “D” with a little heart next to it and smiles.

“I’m really glad you were here, Deena.”

He’s not sure if she hears him at first, until she turns around and flips him the bird. Benjy watches her dissapear down the hall and then waits for Dorcas, looking down at the flying dicks and very glad he was there too.

[jjpmoans]

GYM 7 + Trainer!Jaebum

Character : Jaebum x oc

Series : GYM 7 Series

Theme : Trainer!JB

Word count : 2629 words

I push the door open, stepping inside the air conditioned lounge. Youngjae is sitting alone at the counter, his eyes fixed to the desktop, ignoring my presence. It's not an uncommon scene. Youngjae spends time with his computer more than he spends time with human. He says it saves time and argument. I can't deny that. It's a fact and it is true.

"Early today?"

A man walks pass me, bumping lightly with my arm before reaching the counter and pulls his card out, punching it inside the attendance machine.

"Morning, Youngjae." he mutters.

Youngjae look up from his screen. "Morning Jaebum. Morning schedule today?" His eyes darts to me when Jaebum points with his pointed finger. I raise my palm to acknowledge his look.

"Morning Jaebum's favourite." Youngjae beams before retreating his gaze to the screen again. I roll my eyes, Jaebum in front of him manages to catch my eyes as he turns.

My personal trainer. The one everyone dreaded to be with.

"Come on. Don't you want to change your clothes?" Jaebum hook his hand to my arm and drag me across the counter to the locker room. Sighing, I follow reluctantly as he shoves me into ladies locker room.

Jaebum is not bad. I know he is not. But his strict training-- it's just pure torture and no mercy. I've been training for a month now with him. There is no such thing as light exercise, no nothing. It is either training or resting. No in between, no playful act during training-- just forget about it. When Jaebum says no, you need to learn to say no too.

I slam the locker close, tying my hair up into a pony tail and walk out of the room. I meet Jinyoung in the lounge, he eyes me curiously. "Jaebum again today?" Laughing in the process. Everyone knows how verbal I am when it comes to Jaebum.

Trainers here are very flexible with their schedule. They can change their rotation, for example, if Jaebum doesn't feel to train me, he can simple ask Jinyoung or Mark to replace him. However if the customer has chosen him, he needs to stick that way.

I've been assigned to him, so I'm a floating customer. He can push me around to other trainers.

But he never did.

Jinyoung says usually it takes about two training sessions for Jaebum to rotate his trainee, but I've been with Jaebum for four sessions straight. Every gym7 trainers are amused by this and have been betting their money with how long Jaebum can handle me. Given that I'm quite handful and complaints a lot.

"Push your chest up," Jaebum sucks in breath when I flap dramatically over a simple push up. I have been doing this for four weeks but even in week five, I am still lacking in some part, that's what Jaebum claims.

Apparently today is about the chest part. last week it was about my butt, two weeks before my posture, the previous one was my tempo and the first session was me myself a hopeless case. I am -- what Jaebum says; a pig in the making.

"Jaebum. One more comment, I swear I'm going to hit you with whatever I can get within my grasp." I mutter under my breath while doing the push up while eyeing a dumbell located about a few centimetres from my reach. Jaebum is pushing me to my limit. I might be cancelling my classes at this gym if he keeps going.

Contrary to what I have expected, he laughs, eyes crinkled like he is not a little devil. "Ooh. My little toothless pup is threatening me." he holds his chest and acts exaggeratedly, "Soooo scaryy."

I blow my bangs and mentally strangle him.

'Die Jaebum. Die!'

Returning my focus to the task in hand, I bend down to his count again. "Eleven.. Pup, you cannot bend your hand like that." I ignore him and go down with my hand in an odd position. It's an act of rebellion.

"Twelve." He slows down as I groan at his voice. He always do that when he thinks I'm being stubborn. I am but I don't need someone to order me around! I get down at twelve, feeling that something bad will happen.

"Pup." Jaebum warns. "Don't be stubborn. You can get sprained."

"Just count Jaebum." I say through my gritted teeth.

"Thirt-," Jaebum hasn't finish counting when I bend for the thirteenth too quickly,  losing my tempo.

In a split second, I hear the bone snaps, pain springs throughout my nerves, sending me sprawling on the floor and let out a high pitched scream.

My wrist, it just snaps!

I am so focused to the pain I am feeling when I realize that Jaebum is already sitting and pulling my now limping hand to his eye level.

"Fuck." he mutters. I can hear worry and concern in his voice but now I am more conscious that he's holding my hand. Im Jaebum never touches anyone's hand during training sessions because it is sweaty and dirty.

I pull my hand rather swiftly but god forbid me, the part where the bone snaps simply hit Jaebum's grip; again I find myself scream for my dear life.

"Fuck fuck. What do you pull your wrist for!?" he scolds. He hold my hand again carefully, his eyes scans the room in desperately. When he doesn't find what he want, which I don't know what, he simply scoops me from the floor which I protest by flinging my legs.

Jaebum simply ignore me when I say "I hurt my wrist. Not my legs. Put me down!" instead, he aims for the rehab room where Jinyoung resides.

"Jinyoung." he practically breaks through the door and shoot for the bed, putting me down carefully. He turns frantically to Jinyoung who has a puzzled expression, sitting behind the table. "She's hurt! What are you waiting for? Her to die!?" he shouts.

Boy, it is not that serious. Bone snaps would not cause death right? Unless it punctured the lungs-- well I'll consider that. But it is my wrist not my rib what is he shouting for?

So I tug his hand which gives me his attention while I quirk an assuring smile, shaking my head softly. "It is not that bad Jaebum. Stop freaking out."

He snaps himself at my word, blinking his eyes. Now that he has realised he was overreacting, he steps away from the bed and claims, "I did not freak out."

Jinyoung's expression turns surprised and amused with a little mixture of mischief and giddy, he steps nearer to the bed. "Oh yes you did not. Just a little stunt to break down my door so we can replace it with a new one."

Jinyoung eyes my condition, stops to watch my injured hand starts to from a bruise and curves his lips into an amused smile. "It is really bad Jaebum." Emphasizing on 'really', " Glad you make it within the time or else she would not have survived."

Laughter roars from Jinyoung when Jaebum punches him right to his abdomen, showing no hints of hurt. Jaebum's punches are very strong but obviously, they are trainers for a reason. Jaebum mutters 'fuck you' and make a bee line to leave the room, slamming the door shut.

Jinyoung on the other hand, gesture me to sit properly and walks to his desk to grab some bandage. He returns with a bandage, a scissor and some clips.

"On the scale of one to ten, how painful do you feel?" He asks swiftly, his hand unrolling the bandage.

"Uh," I stop to think. "Maybe four?" He chuckles, pulling my wrist to examine it again. Poking here and there which I don't know what for, he release it with a satisfied smile.

He reach for the bandage and starts extending it to wrap around my wrist. "It is not that bad. Just minor sprain." He grins. "But let's test Jaebum out shall we? I need to win the bet."

I leave Jinyoung's room ten minutes later. Jinyoung has gone extremely over the top with his scheme to win the bet. My sprained wrist is currently bandaged to become a broken arm. The bandage slings over my neck and I am starting to hate Jinyoung because hell, this is itchy as fuck.

As he ushers me outside and slams the door while muttering good luck, I meet Jaebum who is pacing outside the room. His eyebrows are furrowed, his whole expression screams worry and he doesn't stop fiddling with his hand.

Poor boy.

I clear my throat, Jaebum's pacing comes to a halt. When he sees me, he sprints to my direction, eyes eyeing me up and down.

"What happened!!??" He shrieks. "I sent you in for a sprained wrist and you came out a broken arm??"

I rub my forehead tiredly. This is going to be a long day. Any day with Jaebum would be a long day.

"Jaebum. There's nothing to shout for." I calm him down. Obviously, that doesn't work.

Jaebum's eyes grow as I mentioned 'nothing to shout for'. "Nothing? This-" he points my bandaged arm. "-is nothing?"

I take a good stare at his angry state. His chin is jutted out and his eyes narrows to one point it look dangerous.

"Where's Jinyoung? I need to talk to him." He strides towards the room which I came out from.

Realising where he is going, I scramble to stop him, remembering one thing Jinyoung asked me to do.

'Don't let Jaebum finds me.'

"Jaebum." I put my body between him and the door. He is one second away to give another damage to the door.

When he sees me, he gesture me to move. "Pup."

"Jaebum." I breathe.

"Move."

"Jae." I put my hand on his chest. Last resort. I hold it up and slowly push him away from the door. Surprisingly, he compels, letting me pushes him to the chairs for customers.

"It's really nothing." I console him. "Jinyoung says it's just a mere sprain."

Jaebum reaches for my wrist in which I flinch in return. He quickly apologises, being careful with the wrist.

Sighing deeply, he raises his eyes to meet mine. "I'm sorry." He blurts.

Me on the other hand is stunned. I truly didn't expect him to apologise for something he didn't do.

"I know you are going to sprain your wrist but I let you be." Jaebum looks like he is going to cry soon. "I love teasing you and I thought you like it too."

"I know you talked behind me about I'm being harsh on you and begged Mark or Jinyoung to train you instead." I hide my smile, of course he knew. This gym isn't that big. I can even hear Mark gaming all the way from his room during my training.

"I just love training you okay. You are so fun to tease and you don't back off easily." Jaebum reaches to run his fingers through his hair. "But I guess I failed."

He points at my bandaged arm. "I made you broke your arm. You would want to sue me."

"Why do you think I'd sue you?" comes my question. His little talk makes me wonder, who is this man in front of me? He looks so scared that I'll leave him for a broken arm and he looks so small and vulnerable. Why?

His eyes shift at my question and he starts to ramble. "I don't know? Because you hate me? Fuck princess I'm sorry I just like you so much and you look very feisty and I just can't help but teasing you but I know you are stubborn and even if I know you made a mistake I just keep you--"

"Aha!" Jaebum's rant is cut short when Yugyeom jumps out of nowhere with Bambam clinging to him. Jaebum's eyes widen when he realises the two troublemakers has listened to his rant and show pure terror after he spots Jinyoung and Youngjae leaning by the counter while Mark and Jackson has taken a seat just next to us.

His urge to apologise and explain to me has blinded him to the surrounding.

"Wha--"

"Everyone." Jinyoung claps his hands. "50 bucks each please." he shows his contented face. I guess he wins the bet?

"Why!?" Countless of objections arise from all over the place, especially Bambam. "I bet he would confess he has a crush on her!"

Jinyoung on the other hand grins triumphly. "Exactly. But Jaebum didn't say he has a crush on her. That means, I win the bet! I said, Jaebum would say he likes her."

"No way!"

"Yes way!"

Jaebum's jaw hang open as his colleagues banters about the bet and snaps his head to me. I smile sheepishly when he throws me an accusing look.

"You were helping them with the bet?"

I quickly shake my head. "I was dragged to be honest. What can I say when Jinyoung threatened to snap my wrist if I didn't help him?"

Jaebum groans at my confessions, messing up his hair. "Little piece of shit that Park Jinyoung." He's frustrated. Then he launches forward like he remembers something. Turning to me, he pulls my bandaged wrist which causes me to yelp.

"Aw! Jaebum!" I glares.

"What? I thought you said it was fake?" he stutters. Somehow I think he's just a handsome one without a brain.

"The sling is fake. But the wrist is not! How can I fake the sound of wrist snapping?"

His mouth forms an 'O' and moves to soothe my injured hand. the atmosphere suddenly gets silent, just then we realise that everyone has stopped bickering.

"Jaebum." Mark is the first to speak. "Just stop torturing her and date her already!" He receives cheers from the troublemakers but immediately shut up with one glare from Jaebum.

Jinyoung gulps as Jaebum shift to him, I can feel his poor heart thumping erratically. Of course Jaebum's glares don't kill but his hands? Might have.

But unexpectedly, Jaebum hooks an arm under my knees and another arms on my back, raising me up in bridal style again while I reach one hand at his neck for support.

"On any other days, you know you're dead Jinyoung." I  can see Jinyoung's eyes waver and his muscles tense at Jaebum's word. "But today, I'll let it pass."

Jackson lets out a high pitched laugh and jumps to hug the frightened-to-death Jinyoung.

"But." the festive stops at Jaebum's interruption.

"One more time you try to threaten my girl, I'll make sure your wrists snaps even harder." he says. "Let's get you home, princess." Jaebum moves us to the door, exiting the gym and leaves the cheers behind us which seems really happy with the unofficial announcement.

While climbing down the stairs, I avoid eye contacts with Jaebum because dear lord, my heart is unstable and I might have a heart attack at this rate. My shy gesture has made Jaebum chuckles, he presses a kiss on my forehead and reach to unlock the car he parked in front of the gym.

"My stuffs?" I ask as he has seated me front.

"Already here." he points at the backseat. I am surprised that he already has all my belongings. When did he take all that?

Jaebum enters the car and fasten his seatbelt. As the wheel starts to move, he says, "I have planned to confess today, even without you being injured. That's why I am in such a good mood. But God have another plan, He lets me shows how much I care about you to realise that I am really, really in love with you."

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @Ravenclawinstarfleet!

Ho Ho Ho! I hope tattoos and Stiles being a bad example will add a little something extra to your holiday!

Read on AO3

*****

Write Your Mistakes in Ink

Stiles wakes up, first and foremost, with a crippling hangover. All of the other information surfacing, and there’s a lot of it, is very much secondary to the feeling that his brain may be trying to cleave itself free of his skull. He’s also in the bathtub, freezing cold, naked, and partially wrapped in plastic. Is he possibly the victim of one of those crimes that happen to everyone’s cousin’s best friend’s mail carrier? Possibly. But that won’t matter if his head explodes and kills him.

The medicine chest beckons him. It feels like it’s a mile away, and the lip of the tub is very much the only thing holding him upright, so how the hell is he supposed to climb over that?

“Scott!” Stiles groans at the volume of his own voice in his ears and echoing off the tiles. He presses his forehead against the cool lip of the tub, listening for sounds of Scott coming to his rescue.

Silence.

“Scottie!” Stiles tries again, and there’s not a single damn sound for it. He mumbles swears to himself as fuzzy bits of information begin to pop out through the pain. Scott is gone. He’s flying out to see Allison for Christmas and left early this morning. So without a single window or clock, Stiles has surmised that it’s sometime after 7 am. Really, he’s making great progress.

The aspirin isn’t getting any closer, though.

Stiles braces himself on shaky arms and grunts as he tries to pull himself upright. The plastic wrap around his hips and leg squeaks and slide against the tub. His right hip burns when he pulls himself up, and he almost falls out of the tub trying to make it take his weight. It’s not until he’s prying the child safety cap off a bottle of Tylenol that he glances back at the tub and sees the mess left behind. Streaks of reddish brown stand stark against the white tub. Reddish brown and black. And… green?

Oh god, he’s dying. And possibly rotting.

Derek isn’t expecting any customers today. There are no appointments and business overall has been slow because Christmas is a big traveling and doing-stuff time of year. Which means it’s a horrible time to have a giant gaping wound. His friends have told him there’s no point in opening the shop. But then, they all have Christmas-type things to be doing and Derek doesn’t. He’ll have the best-organized inventory of all of them come January, though. So there’s that.

So he’s fairly surprised when he’s barely put his coffee down and queued up the Twisted Sister Christmas album on the shop speakers when the door swings open and lets a cold gust of air inside.

Derek turns to the door with his standard greeting ready. “Can I help y- are you okay?” Derek drops his inventory binder and rushes over to the door when a guy staggers in, holding the push bar like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.

“I think… I got a defective one,” the guy groans, switching his grip to Derek’s shoulder. His long fingers are surprisingly strong as they dig into the muscle. “It’s broken.”

Derek has to glance over his shoulder at the rows of line art and a few professional photos of finished work on the walls. Yep, he still owns a tattoo parlor. His product is still tattoos. “You got a broken tattoo?”

“Yes. It’s coming out.”

Derek holds the guy at arms-length and finally takes a look at him. He just saw him last night and it was overall… memorable. All he can remember about the guy’s name, though, was that it was unpronounceable. Well, that and he had to read it off the guy’s license because he was pretty drunk.

“Are you wearing jeans over a new tattoo?” he asks, slightly alarmed.

“What else should I have done?? I had to come here so you could make it stop leaking! Also it feels like it's on fire!”

Derek pulls him the rest of the way in and leaves the sign on Closed. “Of course it’s going to hurt if you button denim around it,” he says, opening the button on the jeans and pulling the zipper down. “I told you last night, basketball shorts only. And high on the waist.”

“This is really hot and everything, but I’m way more worried about it draining out.”

Derek groans and closes the flaps of the guy’s fly when he sees way more than he wanted. Not that he hasn’t seen it already. “You’re still in the plastic. Why are you still in the plastic?”

“Why am I in plastic at all??” the guy asks, voice slightly shrill.

“You’re in plastic to keep your new tattoo protected.” Derek sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. “Where the hell is your friend? I gave him the instructions too.”

“On an airplane to see his ex.”

Derek stares at him. The guy throws his hands up, nearly losing his balance on his sore hip.

“I know! That look right there? That’s exactly what I told him. I said Scott, what are you doing man? You don’t do a Christmas visit with your ex. Because it’s going to turn into a Christmas hookup and then feelings are going to get involved and you just don’t drag this stuff into Christmas. Now a normal hookup, I mean, I guess whatever, but…”

“Please stop talking.” Derek keeps ahold of the guy’s waist to keep him upright.

“Sorry. I’m Stiles, by the way. If I told you that last night, I meant it. That wasn’t drunk talk.”

“That’s not the name on your license, but let’s go with that.” Derek helps the guy over to the chair. “Hold onto the chair. You’ve been wrapped in plastic for over 12 hours. I need to take it off.”

Stiles groans and grasps the back of the chair. “I’m naked under it.”

“You were naked in the chair last night too.”

“Wait, I was?” Stiles narrows his eyes. “Is that professional?”

“Nope.” Derek lets the jeans drop and begins peeling the tape off Stiles’ waist, taking care with the moles that dot his skin. “But you kept pulling the sheet over your head and telling your friend that you were a ghost, so I took it away from you.”

“Oh. That’s fair.” Stiles watches him unwind the plastic wrap around his hips and makes a pitiful sort of whine when he sees the ink and ooze moving around freely on the wrap. “Look at everything on there! That’s what was all over the tub. It’s like… bleeding and leaking ink!”

“It’s just healing like any other wound.” Derek frowns at him. He’s professional enough to act like it’s normal that he’s talking to another guy who’s naked from the waist down. And really, he did see pretty much everything last night. “Why were you in a bathtub? I told you, no submerging in water.”

“And I told you, I don’t remember last night. Or not anything important anyway,” Stiles snaps. “And I wasn’t taking a bath. Scott left me in the tub because I got that stuff on my sheets. He texted me from the airport so I wouldn’t wake up and think I was down a kidney.”

“Your friend has some interesting priorities.” Derek tosses the plastic wrap aside, balling it up to keep the floor clean. “All of this is normal. Your tattoo is fine.”

Stiles prods gently at his thigh where the skin is red and swollen against the crisp lines of a black and silver lightsaber hilt on his hip and down his thigh, with just the start of a green glow at the business end. Derek slaps his hand away.

“Stop that. Don’t poke at it.”

Stiles makes a face at him. “Ow. Why did I get it in such a weird spot?”

“You said you wanted it to look like you had a lightsaber shoved into your pants because that's sexy.”

Stiles groans and drops his forehead against the back of the chair. “Are you serious?”

“Yep. I don’t judge.” Derek prods Stiles hip (the left one, because he has a brain). “Sit in the chair. I’ll show you how to wash your tattoo.”

Stiles looks at the chair dubiously as Derek stands. “But I’m naked?”

“You were naked last night,” Derek repeats. “I sterilized it. Just sit down.” He hears Stiles oblige and settle himself on the leather seat as he goes to the sink and grabs a bowl for water. At least he’ll have an interesting story when Cora calls him tonight because it’s Christmas Eve and they have to talk. He can tell her about being really up close with the same dick two days in a row, and neither time being any fun.

“Dude!” Stiles startles up in his chair, hissing slightly when that obviously hurts. “Dude, look at what lightsaber this is!”

Derek catches his shoulder and pushes him back against the back of the chair. “Stop yanking it around. That’s going to hurt. What’s wrong with the lightsaber?”

“It’s Qui-Gon’s!”

Derek looks at him blankly, setting the water on the tool tray beside the chair. “Sorry?”

“This is Qui-Gon Jinn’s lightsaber.” Stiles flails his hands like that’s supposed to mean something. “From The Phantom Menace!”

“Okay?”

“How drunk was I to ask for that??”

“You asked for the green lightsaber,” Derek says, pulling over his stool. “That’s the green lightsaber.”

Stiles drops his head back against the back of the chair and makes a sound like he’s in physical pain. “Then obviously it was supposed to be Luke’s!”

“Hm. Isn’t that the blond guy? His lightsaber was blue.”

“Excuse you, he had a green one in Return of the Jedi!”

Derek rolls his eyes. “I showed you the picture and you said it was perfect. I showed your friend the picture and he said it looked like the right thing. Maybe one of you needs to be sober next time.”

“Actually Scott could have been dead sober and said that,” Stiles admits. “It’s tragic.”

“Whoever’s lightsaber it is, you still have to clean it.” Derek dips his fingers into the water. “Now, pay attention. Clean hands, warm water.”

Stiles picks up his phone when Scott’s face shows up on the screen. He’s probably been at Allison’s about six hours by now, which is more than long enough for his life to have gotten way more complicated. “So is it weird yet?”

“Yeah,” Scott says, with way too much kicked-puppy guilt in his voice.

“You want to get back together with her.”

“Yeah.”

Stiles pulls up the leg of his new basketball shorts to look at the end of his new tattoo with the green glow. The skin is angry and red, but now that it’s clean, it’s kinda growing on him. “Told you so.”

Scott sighs. “I know. But it’s just so… good when we’re together.”

“Of course it is. But you gotta get out of bed sometime and then it gets complicated again,” Stiles says, hating that he has to be the sensible one here. He likes Allison. She’s awesome, smart and funny and a bit of a badass. Things just always end up weird. Mostly because her family is kind of insane.

“Yeah, well… I’ll figure that out tomorrow. Did you get my text about the bathtub?”

“The one about you dumping me in there so I wouldn’t bleed through to the mattress? Yeah. Thanks for that.” Stiles tugs the shorts higher and traces a finger just above the line work, over the single flash of red of the button. Heat radiates off of it, which Derek said was normal. “Cleaning instructions would have been more useful. I had to go ask the guy who did it.”

“Wait, did we get cleaning instructions last night?” Scott asks. “Are you serious?”

“Yep. Like, a lot of them. There’re hardcore rules to keeping these things clean. You have to use special soap and like, use your fingers on it. And Derek said it’s gonna ooze and be gross for a few days.”

“Ew. Who’s Derek?”

Stiles snorts. Scott was seriously as trashed as him. “The guy who did the tattoo. And the one who washed it for me. I got it in like, the worst possible place. It’s really weird to have your dick like just… out while a hot guy has his hands all over your thigh. That was an exercise in willpower.”

“Oh, you didn’t get hard this time?”

Stiles sits up abruptly, inhaling sharply as his hip burns and pulls. “What? What do you mean ‘this time,’ Scott? Explain that.”

“Yeah, you spent most of the tattoo session like, half hard. I asked the guy if it was weird and he said kinda, but as long as you weren’t squirming then he didn’t care.”

That’s going to be what Scott held onto from their drunken haze? Stiles has to live with this information now. And he is going to dig a hole and crawl into it and stay there. That’s the only proper reaction. “Oh god.”

“Wait, so he had a boner the whole time?” Cora asks, grinning from ear to ear. Derek doesn’t even have to be there to see it, he can hear that grin through his phone, all the way from South America.

“Yeah. But he was pretty trashed, so I don’t know if I can say it’s all his fault.” Derek plugs in the little tree that sits on his breakfast bar. Cora threatened to get in her car and make the drive to his house if he didn’t send her photographic proof that he wasn’t living treeless this year. Derek isn’t brave enough to test her commitment on that. It was easier to just drop twenty bucks on the tree and a strand of lights.

“I don’t think he’d have any friends to go drinking with him if he got a boner from it. Must have been just for you.”

“Thanks, that makes it so much less weird.”

Cora laughs. “Well, was he cute? You said his friend was out of town. You could maybe… you know.”

“His tattoo isn’t in a spot that allows for a hookup, Cora.” Derek is disappointed. He’s taught Cora the ins and outs of exertion and friction on new tattoos better than that.

“I was more thinking you could ask him on a date, but you obviously don’t have a romantic bone in your body,” she snorts. “Good to know where your head is at though. Means you liked what you saw.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

Cora cackles at him. “You know I’m right. Merry Christmas, Derek!”

Derek hangs up his phone and rubs his forehead. He really should block her number. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about, clearly.

But the reminder that Stiles is all alone and with a new tattoo and a spotty attention span does have him hovering his phone over the new entry in his phone book. The one that reads ‘Stiles- note to self: delete Feb. 1.’

It’s there just in case there’s an issue while Scott is away. So really, he could delete it after a week if he wanted to. But… giving the guy a month to heal seems prudent. Anyway, it’s only there for Stiles to call Derek if he wakes up with gangrene or something, so there’s no reason for Derek to text him.

He texts him anyway.

[Did you remember to wash your tattoo? -DH]

Derek sighs. It’s Christmas Eve. Almost everything is closed. What else is he going to do with his time?

[I am so sorry I had a boner while you were stabbing me. I swear I’m not freaky that way. -SS]

Well. That’s a tough text to follow.

[It’s fine, don’t worry about it. -DH]

Derek knows that’s probably not precisely the right thing to say, but fucked if he has anything better.

[Can I buy you dinner to make up for it? -SS]

[I was going to cook all of my dad’s favorite stuff and send him photos so he could be jealous on his stupid department cruise. -SS]

[But then I realized he probably doesn’t have cell phone reception in the middle of the ocean. -SS]

[And also now I don’t want to keep getting up and down to glaze the ham because that’s super not fun right now. -SS]

[But I found a Chinese place that’s open and I was gonna order a ton of stuff and just eat it for 2 days. -SS]

[I know that’s kind of a weird ‘broken Christmas’ cliché but Chinese food sounds super good anyway. -SS]

Derek looks at the line of texts that pop onto his phone in rapid-fire succession. Stiles texts pretty much like he talks, apparently. And he’s already got the 3-dot icon on his phone again, so he’s still going. And will probably keep going until Derek answers him.

[Stiles. It’s fine. -DH]

The line of texts stops, which is a relief. Derek is not a people person, and dealing with Stiles is like dealing with way more than a single person at once. He gives is another few seconds and almost puts the phone down, but… he didn’t actually get an answer to his question.

Derek hesitates over the keyboard on his phone. He should quit now while he’s ahead. He’s only going to be inviting another wave of texts. It’s a bad idea to ask another question.

[You didn’t answer me. Did you clean your tattoo? -DH]

The 3 gray dots appear on his screen. Then they disappear. Then they appear again. And disappear.

Nothing.

[Stiles. -DH]

[No. -SS]

[Why not? Get your soap and clean it. -DH]

[I forgot how. Come show me. -SS]

Derek eyes his phone. This feels like a trap. He’s still half tempted to do it, though, just so he can chew Stiles out at the same time. Derek absolutely does not want his name as an artist smeared by Stiles taking terrible care of his tattoo.

[I just showed you this morning. -DH]

[Forgot. -SS]

[Go to the bathroom and I’ll tell you again. -DH]

[Too sore, don’t wanna get up. -SS]

[Did you put ice on it? -DH]

[Ice is in the freezer. Come bring it to me. And stay for dinner. -SS]

[No. -DH]

[Yes. -SS]

Derek doesn’t answer. For a bunch of words on a screen, he’s highly annoyed by them. He should ignore them. Ignore Stiles and he’ll go away and eventually he’ll wash his damn tattoo site because he’s obviously a smart guy and perfectly capable of handling soap and water. Derek has other things to do, like… like…

[I RESPECT YOU AS AN ARTIST. LET ME BUY YOU DINNER TO APOLOGIZE FOR MY DRUNK BONER. -SS]

Derek growls and tightens his grip on his phone until the case creaks under his fingers. Juvenile asshole, typing in all caps just to rile him up. Which works.

[Fine! -DH]

[Fine! -SS]

[Fine. -DH]

[Good. See you at 7. -SS]

Derek stares at his phone, then rubs his sinuses as a gentle throbbing begins. So… he has plans for Christmas Eve now. Chinese food with his annoying customer who’s being obtuse about caring for a tattoo he got on accident while drunk. It’s either the start of something bad or, maybe, something good.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #205

forget picking song lyrics, i’m going the hell to bed now.

Do you live by yourself? I live with my mom. Do you like cleaning? Does anyone???? Who is your favorite character from Harry Potter? I've never watched the series; not even a single movie, actually. So I don't have an opinion. Do you watch PewDiePie? Extremely rarely. He's funny, but I'm not interested in his channel's content anymore. Do you like "Despacito?" My sister showed it to me once when she learned I'd never heard it, and I found zero appeal in it whatsoever. Do you play Pokemon Go? It's a brilliant idea, and I really do wish I could play it, but here where I live, there are like ZERO PokeStops (where you get Pokeballs), even in cities, so it's pretty much impossible. Did you ever color your hair pink? No. Do you like Dr. Phil? I don't watch the show and don't know him as a person. Do you prefer to be inside or outside? Inside. Do you eat meat? Sadly. I'm HOPEFULLY quitting when I get to the weight I want; I wasn't getting the nutrients I needed when I was vegetarian to where my body was desperately clinging to what it had or something like that (basically, my weight wouldn't budge in a couple of months), but even still, I don't know if I could do it without depriving myself again. I'm just such a picky eater. Do you need to do the dishes? Yeah. Not desperately, but. Are you scared of clowns? No. Do you have any subscribers on YouTube? *checks* A very impressive 66. Do you believe in ghosts? Yes. Do you salt your popcorn? Yes. Do you like McDonald's? Don't even lie to me, you'll eat there. I don't mind it at all. Do you have a Steam account? Yes. Do you like gaming? Not as much as I used to, but yes. Have you ever played Five Nights at Freddy’s? No. I don't consider jumpscares to be genuinely "scary," but rather a natural reaction to surprise, but FNAF's are intense, and I know they'd have me jumping like crazy. That aside, the games aren't of my personal appeal to actually play (though it's a fun game to watch). Do you like horror movies? Yes. Do you like chicken nuggets? I love me my chicken nuggies hunty. Have you ever tried Akinator? Yes. Can you twerk? I don't know and don't care to. Do you like dabbing? It looks stupid to me. The meme of it makes me laugh, though. What was the last country you visited? I've never left the country. Do you know your phone number? No, actually. It is incredibly difficult for me to memorize sequences, and besides, it's not like I give out my number almost ever. Do you swear in front of children? No. What’s your opinion on Brexit? Shit, I don't even remember what it's about. So obviously I can't have an opinion. It doesn't affect me, anyway. If you want children, what are some of your reasons for wanting them? N/A When you cook a dish that has beans in it, do you prefer to use canned or dry beans? I don't cook, and you'll never see me willingly eat a bean. What were some fun experiments you did in science class as a kid? The two that sharply stand out to me are dissecting an owl pellet in elementary and a frog in middle school. Both were SO cool. What was the last strong emotion you felt? Excitement. After finishing a bowl of cereal, do you drink the leftover milk? Only ever if it's Cinnamon Toast Crunch that I ate. And even then, only sometimes. Do you use dry shampoo between washes? No. What’s the scariest thing you’ve ever done? Overdosing. What’s the most severe allergic reaction you’ve ever had to something? Nothing severe, besides pollen allergies flaring up. What’s your favorite sub-genre of rock? Hard. Who was the last person to get frustrated with you, and why? Mom, but she was more than frustrated. We were having a serious fight about her attitude towards Dad and his wife. What’s something that makes absolutely zero sense to you? Anti-vax shitlords. What’s your phone background? Lock screen is Darkiplier, home screen is Sara kissing my forehead. :'> Have you ever lived with someone you didn’t get along with? No. Do you have a fitness tracker? No. What types of animals have you had as pets? A billion cats, dogs, snakes, lizards, rats, gerbils, guinea pigs, rabbits, fish, box turtles, hermit crabs... and probably more. How well do you understand economics? Have you ever taken an econ class? Not well at ALL. I had one my senior year. What was the last fruit you ate? I had two bites out of a watermelon 'cuz I was really hungry, but we didn't really have anything as a snack. (I fast daily, so I have to watch when my meals are.) I'm not a big watermelon fan, but I hadn't tried these cubes before, and at least it was something. Can you remember your first day of school? I believe I can very faintly... very faintly. I think I had a complete breakdown because of my insane separation anxiety regarding my mom, or it was the complete opposite... alskdfjaweiajr it's like I can kinda see it in the back of my head, but it's super blurry. What’s your favorite movie? The Lion King. It was my favorite as a kid and became so again as an adult just truly acknowledging how damn good and meaningful it is. Plus the soundtrack was a banger. Would you rather jump out of an airplane or go scuba diving? Scuba diving. Do you get bored looking at other peoples’ holiday pictures? Eh. If it's a whole lot, yes, but as a photographer, I enjoy noting which ones I like and why I favor them. Do you give money to charity? Not currently, no. I have no money to give. When I do have a paying job, I plan on definitely donating any time Mark does a charity stream. Are you more into music or movies? Music, easily. When was the last time you went to a swimming pool? WOW. It's been years. Either when I still lived in the apartment or once at Colleen's in-laws', I can't remember which was last. Would you rather have a pet snake or a pet turtle? I have a snake, and I'll take another for sure. Have you ever seen a band live? Who was the last you saw? Just Alice Cooper. Ma and I are seeing Ozzy next year (if the poor man ain't dead), tho!!!! And he's gonna be with Judas Priest and Megadeth. We are NOT going to survive. Do people who use massive amounts of emoticons annoy you? Yes. Emojis, more specifically. If you're writing a sentence and you use an emoji after each and every goddamn word, it drives me up a wall. What was the last clothing item you bought? Underwear, I believe? Or a bra? What does your washing powder smell like? Idk. Normal? Do you have a dishwasher or do you do dishes by hand? By hand, which I cannot explain how much I loathe. It feels disgusting. Are there any cobwebs in your room? I don't believe so, no. Have you ever used a pick-up line and had it work? Ew, I'd never use one to begin with. Have you ever entered a modelling competition? Would you? No to both. The current modelling industry is so, so harmful. Did you keep any drawings/stories from when you were younger? Like around two years ago, I remember going on a mass destruction episode of those super old things, as they embarrassed me horribly, even though I know it had no real reason. Just everything I create embarrasses me. My mom has old school stuff, though. Who did you last have an argument with? Mom today. When was the last time you cooked for yourself? If you include putting things in the microwave with few steps... not that long ago. Maybe two days back. Do you have a safe? Mom does. When was the last time you saw a relative? Mooonths ago when Grammy and her husband were driving through. My brother and his son are visiting real soon, though!! Do you shout out the answers at quiz shows? Yes, lol. Have you ever been in a TV audience? I've been to like three-four hockey games, so yeah. Have you ever entered the lottery? Won anything? No. Well, Mom or Dad would rarely get those scratch-off tickets at random, but the most we've ever got was just like five bucks or so. Do you prefer crosswords or word searches? Word searches. Have you ever drawn on a wall in your house? No. Do you like making collages? No. Have you ever kept a scrapbook? Yeah. What’s your favorite video-game? Silent Hill 2 and Shadow of the Colossus. Sigh, I want a PS4 SO bad to get the SotC remaster. I actually teared up when I saw the opening cutscene for the first time, and I just marveled through the EEEEEEENNNNtire playthrough I watched. It's unbelievable. Do you remember any inside jokes from childhood? Not off the top of my head. I'm tired, don't make me think. Have you ever made up a word? Well, as a writer, I've made up names and places. A word itself, I don't think so. Do you get nervous speaking to people you don’t know on the phone? VERY!!!!!!!! Are you scared of anything irrational? You mean like, half my fears? Do you have a passport? What’s the picture like? No. Have you ever had a full fringe? (bangs) As a kid I did. Is there anything you would never admit to liking? Don't think so. What’s the weirdest craze you can remember? Fidget spinners. Do you use bug spray or fly swatters? Fly swatters. Then we also have this hanging cylindrical sticky... thing that flies and gnats are apparently attracted to with the smell, I guess. Works like magic, though I agree it's pretty cruel. Just stuck there until you die. Are you a clumsy person? Boy, am I. Do you have tiled floors in your house? In three rooms. Do you listen to any movie soundtracks regularly? No. Do you bruise easily? Way too easily. Like normally something simple won't leave behind an obvious one, but even a normal poke in the arm hurts a lot and leaves the spot sore for a good while. I was tested for anemia, but apparently, I don't have it. What would you love to learn to do? Play the electric guitar. Do you prefer monkeys or lemurs? Ehhh... lemurs as far as cute goes, monkeys overall. Do you watch movies based on the actors or the movie plot? The plot. Do you have any phone charms on your mobile? No. What is your opinion on sex without emotional commitment? That's a big 'ole honkin' nope. Last time you puked from drinking? Never. Have you ever gotten drunk and danced on a bar? No. What is your favorite simple ice-cream flavor? Vanilla. Though sometimes I prefer chocolate. Do you pay attention to calories on the back of packages? Only for dinner. I forgot the science behind it, but one of my meds for bipolarity only works to its full effect after ingesting at least 350 calories; I only get about a 20% effectiveness of the medicine when eating less. I know it sounds weird, but my psychiatrist is a goddamn genius, and I trust every word that comes out of his mouth. When was the last time you slept on the floor? Two years ago when I was living with Colleen and I didn't have a blow-up mattress yet. Are you currently wanting any piercings or tattoos? When???????????????? do I?????????????? not???????????????????????????????????? Do you wear flip-flops? That's pretty much all I wear just about year-round... I remember in 7th grade, one of my teachers asked me about it a lot and I just told her I didn't mind the cold, which was true. Pretty sure she thought I was lying and was too poor to buy new clothes or something, as she gifted me socks one day, which I thought was incredibly sweet. I miss my 7th grade teachers. Best school year. Who was the last person to kiss you on the cheek? Pretty sure my niece Aubree when saying bye. What is your favorite sauce to eat with spaghetti? Normal Prego sauce, I think. Have you ever seen a magic show? A little one as a kid. When was the last time you vomited and why? Months and months ago when I was testing a medication. Quit that shit real fast, as it made me sick so many times. Where do you usually sit when you eat dinner? Uhhh I eat in my bed usually, lmao. We almost never sit at the table. I normally do if Mom's there, though. How often do you get headaches? Ugh, often. Why did you call the last person you called? I was calling back about my job application that I was supposed to hear about yesterday. How many windows are in the room you’re in? Two. Do you have Facebook friends that you’ve never actually met? Yes. When was the last time you had your photo taken professionally? Not since senior pictures, pretty sure. I hated how it came out. I have a lazy eye when I smile, gah. How long does it take you to get to school or work? Currently N/A. Let’s say you had a baby with the last person you kissed? We're both female, so. And neither of us want kids anyway. When was the last time you completely broke down? A couple weeks ago in a totally random and severe panic attack. Do you have someone you can spill your heart out to? Yeah. Is there a person that you would do absolutely anything and everything for? No. I'm not gonna, say, murder someone just because they want me to. What’s something you really want right now? To go and get my tattoo cleaned up by a more professional artist alsdkjfalwei. I got the approximate cost, I just have to wait until I can afford it. This tattoo is so so so important to me and it needs to be perfect. What is your relationship status? Taken. What was the longest time you’ve wasted on a certain person? Not even two weeks lmao. I said yes to dating mostly out of fear of hurting his feelings, and he QUICKLY proved he was NOT for me. Are you listening to music right now? Yeah, my iTunes is on shuffle. Anyone you would like to get things straight with? I wouldn't want to be friends I don't think, but I REALLY want to see Jason one final time to tell him how sorry I am. I recently acknowledged just how fucked up I treated him after the breakup; he wasn't the only one who made mistakes. I sure as hell did. He deserves to hear it badly. I do believe our last talk was a good ending, but I feel me finally admitting that I fucked up would be the perfect one. What was the best thing that happened to you today? Seeing Dad for his birthday. When was the last time you did something for the first time? I talk-talked to some WoW friends a couple days ago, though very very briefly. I couldn't figure Discord push-to-talk out and I ended up panicking lmao. What color are the last new pair of pants that you bought? Black. Is your room clean? I should dust and vacuum, but the latter doesn't currently work. List all the countries you’ve visited.  I've never left America. At what age would you allow your kids to dye their hair? Shit, whenever they wanted tbh. So long they sounded serious about it and it wasn't just a brief episode of "oh this would be cool." Which fast food place do you eat at the most? Hm. Wendy's or Sonic. When was the last time you weren’t lonely? Jesus fucking Christ, who knows. What kind of movies do you like? Horror, fantasy, Disney/kids' films, comedies, rom coms, and emotionally moving ones. Bats are not spooky or are they? They're adorable, omg. Do you think blue is a gay color? Fuck off. What's your opinion on gays? Fuck off harder. Do you like the song "Womanizer"? Don't even talk to me if you don't. Where is your favorite place to get fries? You can't live your fullest life without having Bojangle's fries at least once. Do you know anyone who was raised by their grandparents? Idk. Have you ever made your own pie from scratch? No. Who was the last person you had an in-depth conversation with? Sara. What was the last fast food item you ate? A hot dog. What is your favorite gaming console? You know PS2 was the best, you know it. What was the last major city you visited? Raleigh, if that even counts. Do you always have a stock of alcohol in your house? No. Have you ever had a pumpkin latte and if so, did you like it? I hate everything pumpkin-flavored. Is there an antique store in your town or city? I think so... Have you ever been to a baby shower? My sister's. Maybe others', but idr. Do you know anyone who has been to rehab? Pretty sure yes. How many romantic relationships have you been in so far? Genuinely "romantic" ones, two. Would you consider yourself to be a picky eater? I am 99% sure I am the pickiest human being to ever live. Have you ever lived in a house with a pool in the yard? Not a built-in one. What color is your toothbrush? Blue. Do you have gluten intolerance or know anyone who does? I know a few people. Have you ever slept in a car overnight? No. Have you ever fainted? Yes. Do you avoid conflict as much as possible? YUP. Do you like ice cream cake? I'm not a big fan. Have you ever made out with someone of the same sex? Yes. Where is your second home!? The place I'm second-most comfortable is probably Sara's. What song always makes you sad? I avoid listening to "The Mortician's Daughter" by Black Veil Brides unless I just really, really want to hear it. I always tear up due to memories. Have you ever played a game that required removing your clothes? No. Where is your favorite place to be kissed? Breasts and neck. Were you mean as a little kid? No. Who was the last person you hung out with? Dad. What is your mother’s name? Donna. What is your favorite song at the moment? I've been in true love with a heavy metal cover of "Invincible" from the WoW soundtrack for like a full month. What day will you never forget? The breakup night. Suicide attempt. My niece and nephew being born. Meeting Sara. Getting Teddy. First time hanging out at Jason's. 16th birthday. Alice Cooper concert. Putting Dale and Cali down. There's a lot. What was the last thing you took a picture of? Some crazy shit on FB to show Sara. Something you're looking forward to? Getting a goddamn job. What is God teaching you right now? Lul. What does Notre Dame Cathedral mean to you, and how has its fire affected you? I was devastated to hear about it; it was the one event that actually got me paying attention to the news. It is a monument of incredible art and history, and for Catholics, a house of their god. I am so thankful the damage wasn't too tremendous. What’s the last dumb decision you made that you beat yourself up over? I dunno. Surprisingly. What’s your favorite version of the Bible to read? N/A If applicable, do you underline verses in your Bible? N/A When was the last time you went to church? Not since Colleen had her extreme Christian phase two years ago. What’s the last song you listened to on repeat? "Radio" by Rammstein. That new album's gonna be bangin'. Does your town’s hospital have a good reputation? NOPE. It sure does not. I have no issue with the psychiatric care unit there, though. Every time I went to the ER for suicidal thoughts or the attempt, they were sweethearts to me. But as far as physical health, they do NOT have a good rep. I know someone's grandfather that nearly fucking died thanks to them, and I can't recall what it was exactly, but Mom had some complaints during her kidney cancer treatment. What is your hometown known for? Crime. Are you longing for and missing a toxic person? I honestly miss Colleen sometimes, but I can't go back to her. I can't. I'm done giving her more chances than she deserves. It was nice to actually have someone to hang out with, but she is just overall not a pleasant person. What’s your greatest longing? Financial stability, probably. Have you ever read a Bible verse and thought, “this isn’t true”? BOY HOWDY- What are you behind on? Being an adult. I am 23 and a SOOOOOORRYYYYYY excuse for one. Is there someone who’s stolen from you and never got caught? Yes. Someone stole our basketball hoop from my childhood home. Have you been lonely for most of your life? Most of my life, no. What color is your sleeping bag? I don’t have one. When was the last time you used a sleeping bag, and what for? When I lived with Colleen and slept on the floor for a bit. Do you live near the woods? Yeah, there's woods across the road. What do you want to be for Halloween this year? List 1-3 ideas. I wanna be the dumb blonde witch from Hocus Pocus, lmao. A pastel vampire would be pretty cool. And Rhett from the "Sleep Tight" video has instilled in me the great desire to be a steampunk toothfairy at least once. List five things people have been jealous of you for. Idk. List five things you have felt jealous of other people for. More than anyone, a friend of many friends' photography success when I can genuinely and modestly say I really think I'm better than her. That is easily the worst envy situation I've dealt with (and still do), as this is the one that is actually almost spiteful, wrong as that is. Then I have another friend who is a FANTASTIC photographer as well and is now a professional one in the fashion industry, I believe. Then there was a girl I went to school with called Cailin whose drawing skills were naturally INCREDIBLE since elementary school, and I remember back then, me and her would always get the most attention for our work, but she did moreso, but I wanted to be the "best" artist. Once I hit high school I just had great respect for her talent. Next, one of my former best friends Hannia was a natural GENIUS that got perfect scores on LITERALLY almost anything; she had the highest GPA in the entire school, while I was right behind her. And uhhhh five... I have been and still am jealous of my sisters for being proper, successful adults. What is your favorite shade of brown? Like a caramel tone, I guess? What color is your toilet seat? White. Would you rather live in an apartment or a house? Definitely a house. What’s one thing you had growing up that you miss now? Energy. Do you prefer kale, lettuce, or spinach? Lettuce. Do you listen to instrumental bands such as Hammock, Trentemoller, etc.? No. Have you ever gotten a manicure or pedicure? Just because my sisters went and Mom wanted me to hang out with them. I may have with my old friend, too. Have you ever self-harmed? Yeah. Never the answer. Do you have any eating disorders? No. I'm afraid of developing one once I (hopefully) get to the weight I want, though. Have you ever met a celebrity? No. Do you like Monster Energy or do you prefer other energy drinks? I hate energy drinks. They taste like poison. Do you plan on getting married? Yeah. Do you want kids? That's a big fat nope. What’s your sexual orientation? I don’t judge. Bisexual. At what time of day do you normally feel the best? The morning. Name one reason why someone should not commit suicide. YOU. CAN. GET. BETTER. Seek professional help if you feel suicidal, and after what I understand is a serious struggle, you truly can go into the light at the end of the tunnel. You've got, to our understanding, one shot at this. Don't end it when there is a possibility for a beautiful future. If you’re unhappy, what would it take to make you fulfilled? Have a job and be in school. Name someone you know who is a cancer survivor. My mom. Are you friends with any cancer survivors? I don't think so. Do you wish the sunrise and sunset lasted longer? Hm. Sunset, maybe. Idk. Name a country whose history you know nothing about. Lmao most. What is your favorite store at the mall? Hot Topic. Do you have a bed or do you sleep on a mattress on the floor? I have a bed. When was the last time you went for a run? Shit, not since high school gym. Do you keep Christmas lights up year-round? No. What did you win a scholarship for? Nowhere. What type of bug do you see the most often in your home? Flies. Do you put off things until the last minute? I tend to. Is your mom the same size as you? No, I'm smaller. Do you know any Christians who aren’t judgmental? No shit. Do you still think of that Gwen Stefani song when you spell bananas? Ha ha yup. Do you like the way your hair naturally is, or do you change it? It's fine. But I want it dyed badly. Do you know anyone who died accidentally by doing something stupid? Yes. How many different languages have you taken in school? Latin and German. How tall is your father? (Estimate?) Idk. Over six feet. Would you meet Miley Cyrus if you had the chance? No. What is your favorite slow song? Oh yeesh. Idk. Maybe "See You On The Other Side" by Ozzy. Do you believe in karma? No. Do you constantly check your cell phone? No. Only Sara or Mom ever text me, and I pick it up just if the green light is blinking (means I have a message). If there were aliens on earth, would you be afraid? Well yeah. If you could spend 1 hour 20 years in the future, would you? Yes. I want to see where I am, so long as I can change my behavior to improve that future if needed. Otherwise, I don't wanna know. Are your pets asleep? Teddy probably is, Bentley might be, idk where Roman is, but he likely is, I can't see Mitsu from where I am currently, Venus may be (no eyelids, so you never know) as she's in her rock, and Kaiju is awake. Have you ever wished you were an only child? Never. Have you ever hurt someone on purpose? Yes. Have you ever gotten hurt while sledding? No. Do you enjoy going through old pictures? It depends on the subject of them and my mental state. Kid pictures I'm always up for, high school ones are okay, though they can make me really upset with how healthy and skinny I was, and I deleted all photos I had on Facebook of Jason and me last year so I couldn't even risk looking at them ever again, as there's a good chance some would trigger my PTSD. Of all your exes, who do you think you had the deepest feelings for? Jason, obviously. Do you tend to have a lot of drama in your life? I have the most uneventful, bland life. No. When’s the last time someone was disappointed in you? Idk. What song are you listening to right now? Is this one of your favorite songs? "Alone I Break" by Korn. No, but I love it. What is something you have to explain a lot? My sweating issue. Gross to talk about, but I sweat seriously excessively, like you would not believe. It can be 70 degrees and I'll be sweating in seconds. People worry about it, and in VR, I've had to explain it so many times due to it affecting suitable jobs (I think we can all agree being drenched in sweat at work looks extremely bad). Hopefully I won't have to anymore when my doctor decides what to do about it. It's most likely a thyroid issue, which I have no clue about how to subdue symptoms of. There's really a shitload I have to explain lately between doctors and VR... Which compliment do you receive the most? From those that know me/see me, that I'm losing weight. From people in general, "I love your hair" or something like that. Who were you last on the phone with? My sister. What is one thing you have always wondered? Uh. Idk. I'm sure there's a lot, just nothing's coming to me atm... What do your friends think about the music you listen to? Your family? My friends and I like similar stuff, as do my parents, especially Mom. My sisters are the total opposite of me and don't enjoy metal and the like at all. Has anyone ever told you to grow up? Essentially. Do you believe people when they say they don’t judge people? Hell no. How many true friends do you have? Excluding family and my girlfriend as they're more than that, like... one or two, it feels like most of the time. Can you honestly say you’re happy right now? No. What is something you are exceptionally bad at? Doing math in my head or spelling up there. AND READING LIPS. Do you have a house phone? No. Who do you love more than anyone right now? Don't make me choose between Mom and Sara. How much money do you have saved up? I literally have $11. Do you like bright/neon colors? Yes, but I prefer pastel. What is your favorite wild animal? Meerkats. Do you ever eat breakfast? I almost always do. Do you remember who your first grade teacher was? Yes. Have you ever won any trophies? What for? Yeah, for A honor roll all through elementary school (save for 5th grade; I got one B and was so upset, lmao), then in all kid sports I played, everyone got lil ones, some from dance I believe, and I think there's one or two others I'm not thinking of...

[reid-fiction]

Butter Me Up

In which Spencer’s daughter has picked up a few tricks from her mom

a/n: Okay, so this story is my submission for @captainreid‘s 700 Challenge! I was given the word: Blandishment. Which means “flattery intended to persuade” And, obviously, I needed to go the dad!Spencer route because it’s me and that’s what I live for. Hope you enjoy!

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She had her father’s hair, but that was pretty much the only thing Spencer’s 4-year-old daughter had inherited from him. The rest of her personality was entirely from you, which is partially why you assumed she got away with so much when it came to her dad. In the same way that Spencer would bend over backwards for you, he did the same for her and neither of you even really had to try.

Such was the case today. You had gone out to run some errands and spend a bit of time with some friends, and left your daughter at home. Spencer had put her in her room for a bit of quiet time while he got some work done and, so far, she hadn’t made a peep. You had given up on naps a long time ago, but she loved having quiet time when she could read or color or play with the the toys in her room. Some days, you or Spencer would spend that time with her and watch a movie or snuggle up on the couch, but she was just as happy to have that time alone.

Spencer had just finished going over a lesson plan for his next class when he heard her bedroom door open and she scuttled across the floor in her mismatched socks until she was beside him.

“Daddy?” she asked, tentatively.

Spencer kept his eyes glued to the paper in front of him, but answered her sweetly.

“Yes, love?”

“I made you something.”

Now Spencer did look up, opting to exchange the rather dry teaching material for whatever his daughter was holding out to him. He smiled when she handed it to him, looking at the bright colors and shapes that littered the crisp, white sheet of paper. It was obvious she had taken out nearly every single color in the box to add to her creation, and she was beaming up at him while he looked at it.

“Whoa!” Spencer exclaimed, mouth opened in exaggerated shock. “Did you draw this all by yourself?”

His daughter nodded, proudly, placing one hand on his knee so she could lean in closer and look at it with him.

“That’s you, daddy!” she said, pointing to a very obvious stick-figure looking object in the middle of the page. “Look, you’re wearin’ your Snoopy tie and crazy socks!”

Spencer chuckled as he nodded along with her commentary. The tie he had on in the picture didn’t resemble the cartoon dog whatsoever, but it was clearly covered in little white blobs that he assumed were meant to represent the animal. She had drawn his “crazy socks” almost up to his knees. One was bright pink and the other striped like a blue and yellow candy cane. It wasn’t all that far off from real life, other than the length. His hair, too, was not all that far off. She had drawn it messy and curly, framing it around his face and almost down to his chin.

“What this part?” Spencer asked, pointing to some wispy lines near the top that looked a bit like letters but not fully formed yet.

“It says, ‘I love you daddy an’ you’re the best daddy in the whole world’.”

Spencer wrapped his free arm around her and brought her up until she was seated in his lap. He leaned over and placed a smacking kiss to her forehead.

“Well, I love you too. It’s beautiful, munchkin. Thank you.”

He expected that to be the end of it, but his little girl wasn’t quite finished.

“Do you know why I wrote that, daddy?”

“Because you love me?” Spencer winked.

“‘Cause you do a lot of fun things with me, an’ you’re really nice and smart, and mommy says you’re handsome.”

Spencer laughed, looking down at her with an amused look on his face.

“Oh, she does, does she?”

His daughter nodded, keeping the most serious face she could.

“I think you’re handsome too, daddy. And I love you because you read me stories and play wit’ me, and make me macaroni and cheese ‘cause you’re the best daddy ever.”

Despite feeling his heart melt at her words, Spencer couldn’t help but wonder if there was an ulterior motive at work. You would often start listing things you loved about Spencer right before you went into your spiel about how you would realllly love it if he went out and picked up some ice cream for you, or gave you a back rub because he was “the best husband in the world”. Spencer knew well enough by now that his daughter had picked up a few of those tricks.

It was when she wrapped her little arms around his neck and started kissing his cheek that Spencer realized he was in for more than he bargained for.

“Are you trying to butter me up?” he asked, chuckling as he helped her balance on his knee.

She pulled away and looked at him in confusion.

“I don’t want to put butter on you, daddy. That’s gross.”

Spencer laughed, kissing her again.

“It means you’re trying to get me to do something for you by telling me all the things you love about me so I’ll be more likely to give in. Your mommy does it, too.”

She scrunched up her nose and Spencer knew he had cracked her.

“What is it that you want, munchkin?”

“Welllll....can we go to the playground an’ then for frozen yogurt?” she asked, putting on her best sweet voice. She leaned in a bit closer with her big, puppy dog eyes and started batting her eyelashes at him. “Pleaaaaseee? Pretty please, daddy?”

“Where did you learn how to do puppy dog eyes like that?” Spencer asked, smirking. “You really are your mother’s mini-me, aren’t you?”

He stood, lifting her up into his arms, and walking over so he could pin her drawing on the fridge.

“Tell you what,” he said, “it’s almost dinner time so if you can be a big girl and help daddy make dinner so mommy doesn’t have to when she gets home, I’ll take you to the playground later this evening and we can get a special treat afterwards, okay?”

Her eyes lit up, nodding enthusiastically and presumably a bit in surprise at how little persuasion it had taken. Spencer sat her down on top of the counter, poking her tummy as she let out a giggle.

“There’s one more thing I need, though,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. “If I’m taking you to the park, I’m going to need a little payment from you first.”

“Do you want the money in my piggy bank?” she asked. “I have a quarter.”

“Nuh-uh, not that kind of payment.” He puckered his lips. “One kiss, please.”

His daughter grinned and leaned in to press a very enthusiastic and over-dramatic smack to his lips. Spencer caught her in his arms, blowing raspberries all over her face and neck while he tickled her sides, sending her into a fit of giggles.

Yeah...he didn’t need a lot of persuasion when it came to his girls. 

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