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ursuburbanmother · 5 months

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I’m On Fire, But I’m Trying Not to Show It || Chapter Four

Pairings: Angus Tully x fem!reader

a/n: did you guys know fifty dollars back in ‘66 was like five hundred dollars??? I didn’t and now I wish I never did. Anyway I kinda just wanted to explore more of Angus and Y/n relationship before the event of the holdovers. So a little backstory on this one. I maybe got carried away. Also this is a long ish chapter cause I have MAJOR exams to take so yeah :0 it might be while till I update again.

Word Count: ~7.5k

Enjoy!

Four Years Before - June 12th, 1966

Your parents had fled to Barbados for a destination wedding which they would follow with a cruise they claimed to deserve. Although it was one of those rare occasions where they had extended an invitation, you had declined. The prospect of being able to stretch your legs on the couch without worrying if you would be crushing some unknown guest, or to be able to walk into rooms without crashing into a waiter passing out shrimp puffs, was much more appealing. You had been left behind with fifty dollars for your fun fund, as your mother called it, and a kiss on the forehead. The nanny your parents kept on retainer would check up on you occasionally only to find you were much better at cleaning up after your messes and doing ordinary tasks than your parents. She’d leave after a few hours and then over the course of the first week she stopped coming.

You had prepared yourself for a month of solitude after Angus had announced he’d be spending his vacation at a tennis camp in Montauk. You must have been reorganizing your bookshelf for the third time that day (once by alphabet, then by color, and finally by size) when you heard a knock at the door. The sun had just begun to set, the sky colored a purple-blue, and you cautiously decided to take your fathers golf club. You dropped the club shortly after opening the front door to find not the face of Norman Bates but of your best friend. You scanned his tear-stained face. His eyes were glossy and his cheeks rosy, like when one stands in the snow and is attacked by the harsh winds that nip at your skin.

He collapsed into your arms, and you are quick to hold him steady. He was crouched over, having had a growth spurt a few months earlier, making it hard for you to look at him eye to eye.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

It was the summer of ‘66, where paranoid parents were starting to believe rock music would possess you. Ironically, it was the year Pet Sounds came out and you couldn’t stop rewinding the songs on your turntable. And most significantly it was the summer you spent with Angus.

He broke the news through jumbled words and choked down tears. How his father had been placed in a Mental Health hospital and how taking him to camp was just an excuse to make sure he wouldn’t be there when the people from the hospital came to pick his father up. They had apparently come early, mixing the dates up.

“Does your mom know you’re here?” You asked, hugging his torso.

“No. I'm sure she’ll be coming to check soon though,” he sniffled, “She’ll probably try to drag me to Montauk anyway and say that ‘it’ll be good for me’.”

You kiss his curls, “What if you stay here?”

He lifts his head up, “I’m not sure she’ll let me.”

“I think she will,” you reassured, “I am a very good guilt-tripper.”

“You can try if you want. How much did your parent’s leave you anyway?”

“Enough for both of us, don't worry. Even if we run out, we could whip something up to eat.”

His eyes widened, “Let's stick to take-out.”

Your house was the first place Angus’s mother looked in, just like he had predicted. He hid at the top of the stairs, staying away from his mom's line of sight as she pressed you for his whereabouts. You had been truthful about how he wanted to spend the next few nights here.

“Are you serious? I’m not going to leave two fourteen-year-olds alone, unattended, unsupervised! God knows what you’ll get up to.”

“We’re not going to do anything!” you argued, “We’re smart enough to not light the house on fire and to dial 911, in case we happen to. Angus just wants to be away for a little while. You should understand why,” you glared.

She looked down, shuffling her heeled feet.

“Besides, you take him away now he’s just to keep coming back here,” you sighed, stating the obvious.

She cleared her throat, coughing as she nodded, “Fine. Alright. Uhm- just make sure he calls me. Okay?”

“Okay,” you do your best to stop yourself from slamming the door in her face. "Bye.”

“The coast is clear,” you shout to Angus who came barreling down the stairs, skipping the last few steps.

“Did she look mad?”

You shrug, “A little. But she'll move on.”

He hums, agreeing as his eyes flicker around the room. He’s looking at the house he must have been at least a thousand times, whether because you invited him or because your parents did. And for the first time in either of your lives… it was completely silent. …

That first night Angus slept on your bedroom floor on a mattress you had dragged from the guest room. You had only your lamp on, and your window was open just wide enough to bring in the refreshing summer air. You were reading a few pages of your book to Angus, and when you glanced down you saw his eyes beginning to close.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No. You have a nice voice is all.”

“Thank you. You do want to go to sleep though,” you observe.

“Should I turn off the lamp?” He says almost immediately. He lifts himself up slightly so he can reach your bedside table and waits for your permission to turn it off.

“Yes please.” You settle deep into your duvet. You turn to the side that faces Angus and wish him goodnight.

A few minutes later he speaks up again in a whisper. “Thank you again. For letting me stay here. I'll be out of here by next week, swear.”

“If you could, I would want you to stay here your whole life.” He scoffs at your words as you lean up with the support of your elbows to stare him down. “I’m serious. I only wish I could live in a house with you. Except somewhere far away from here.”

“By the beach,” he adds.

“Yeah. On a beach so obscure they can’t even send us mail because no one will know our address.”

“Oh no. How would your parents ever send you the invitation for your debutante ball?”

“I guess they’ll just have to throw it without me.”

“Shame,” Angus sighs. “I would love to see you in a white dress.”

You pause and then crash down back into your bed. You admire the garland that hangs above you. It’s made of postcards your parents sent you during their many endeavors. In that moment you're reminded of them and turn to Angus. “Oh. About that. My mom told me to tell you to prepare to be my escort in a few years.”

“Already?!” …

You and Angus had fallen into a routine. He’d sleep way later than you, sometimes until noon, and you’d wake him when you got too impatient and hungry for breakfast. He’d stir and groan to the point that it was obvious he was faking before finally getting up.

You would carry what you could from your kitchen pantry onto the backyard patio and eat under the summer sun. It was like an all-you-can-eat buffet of fig jam, English muffins and sometimes pears from the tree that stretched over your neighbor's fence. Afterward you and Angus continued your day in the green grass. He would sprawl himself out on a picnic blanket and read a comic book, wearing shades that were on the verge of tipping off his nose. Meanwhile you would tend to your mother's garden. You’d put on her straw hat too, just to make it feel like you were with her.

When you were little, you’d pull the weeds out of flower beds as your mom pruned her lavender. It was her dearest plant, and she treated them so, regularly nursing it to keep it alive. She’d motion for you to come with her and pick up the shears from the gardening shed. Eagerly obedient, you did as she said, and you would work together until called for lunch. Your mother was always a vivaciously elegant woman, always knowing the right things to say and charming anyone she met. You often wondered why you hadn’t inherited her brilliance, the one that made her seem as if she was glowing in any room she inhabited. It was odd that she’d often claim her ability to converse was her greatest ability when the two got along best when moving in silence.

You did your best to care for the plant too. Before you mom left, she asked to handle their upkeep. You took your duty seriously, checking in on them every day until you saw one sign of disarray.

That summer was like playing house. And although you never admit, for the fear that he’d read too much into and freak, it was exactly as you had often dreamed it to be. June and July passed quickly, and you hadn’t even noticed it. You imagined a life where it could just be you two forever, away from your parents and outside of stifling Massachusetts.

You imagined a life in an apartment described as ‘quaint,’ by the realtor to disguise the incredible small square footage. You wondered if he would like to be in a city like New York or Chicago. Somewhere that was always busy, and the chirping of morning birds was replaced by honking cars.

By the time August had rolled around, you could practically hear the unmistakable sound of the school bell ringing in your ear, warning you of its proximity. Thoughts about the future had you asking Angus one bleary Sunday afternoon, “Are you nervous about starting high school?”

Angus was pushing you on the tire swing, trying to give you motion sickness by twisting the ropes of the swing and letting them untangle a second later.

“Not really. It’ll be like eighth grade just with more tests.”

“I guess. But aren’t you nervous about making new friends and stuff? What if we tangled ourselves into a web so deep that we can’t talk to other people normally.”

“Then I have done my job of keeping you to myself.”

“Haha,” you deadpan, “Seriously though. Won’t you miss having me to talk to?”

“Of course I will. But you’ll write to me and crap… right?”

“Of course,” you echo his words back to him, “You’ll visit me when you get the chance too, correct?”

“Eh. If I’m not busy.”

“Angus!”

“Yes! Obviously, I will.” He pushes you a little harder.

“I do want you to be more out there though. Don’t go sulking in corners like you always do. People would really like you if you let them talk to you for more than one minute.”

“You’re starting to sound like my mother Y/n.”

“Seriously though. Did you notice we’re always addressed as ‘Y/n and Angus’ by teachers. Never just Y/n and never just Angus.”

“Yeah. But I like it. It’s like Bonnie and Clyde. You can’t separate them because then it sounds plain wrong.”

“Okay Clyde,” you roll your eyes. You stop swinging, scraping your shoes through the dirt until you are still.

“I’m giving us two weeks before we break down to each other over the phone.” You lose the hold you have on the tire swings and let them drop onto your lap. You simmer under the sun and enjoy the breeze that flows through your hair.

“Don’t go replacing me when you get to your school.”

“Don’t worry, you got a head start seven years ago. No one else will be able to catch up,” you smile teasingly. “Maybe I’ll find myself a boyfriend though. About time for the both of us, don’t you think?”

He frowns, “You don’t need a boyfriend.”

“Yes, I do. Everyone else does.”

“Since when do you do what other people do? I think you should stop talking to people who peer pressure you,” he flicks your forehead.

“Why?” You rub your forehead, “Do you want to be my boyfriend?” You smirk.

“Gross! No! I was just kidding. Get a boyfriend, I don’t care.”

“You wouldn’t care if I got a boyfriend?” You look at him skeptically.

“As long as he treats you nice and shit,” he rubs the back of his neck.

“It’s just that we do everything together Angus. There are some things I would like to get over with that I can’t do with you.”

“Like what?” Angus wrinkled his nose in confusion.

“Like hold hands and go to bowling alleys or whatever.”

“We’ve done that.”

“I like…kiss,” you whisper, fidgeting with your hands.

“Oh,” he chuckles awkwardly. “So would you want to do that … now?”

“What!” You shout, leaping off the swing and walking a few steps away from him. “I’m not asking you to,” you clarify, shaking your head.

“No, but I would like to be over and done with it too… so maybe we should just…” He motions his finger between you two.

“Uhm,” you laugh, tilting your head, “Wouldn’t that be weird?”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t mean anything. It’ll be just to check it off the list,” he shrugs nonchalantly.

“Um, yeah, okay,” you move closer to him in small timid strides. “You lean in though. I read that the guy is supposed to do that in my mother's Cosmopolitan.”

“Right, right,” he nods eagerly, interlocking your fingers together. With hesitancy he leans his head down and pulls you even closer to the point where you are bumping your noses. You close your eyes, and it's like your brain begins to spin like those show wheels with choices on them. Your brain tries to land on a feeling but loops on endlessly. His lips are softened by the humidity, and you don’t even notice it is over until a couple seconds after he pulls away.

When you think back on it, it really was the most 'first kiss moment’ to ever exist. It was more of a peck, both of you were bright red and shortly after you were as stiff as statues. Not knowing what else to do, Angus clears his throat and removes his hands from yours to wipe them on his shirt. “So, uh, what does your mothers Cosmo say to do afterward?”

You let out a breathy laugh, “I don’t know. I didn’t read that far.”

…

Christmas Eve - December 24th, 1970

After that summer, when you shared a weepy goodbye and headed off to your own high schools, it was undeniable that something had shifted between you both. Even if it often went unspoken. Neither you nor Angus had brought it up, but on occasion you would acknowledge it. Like last night after leaving the auditorium to return to the common room and pick up the dishes, your eyes drifted to the TV where a cheesy kiss scene was happening on screen. The two of you shared a knowing look that said, “That’s not how ours went down,” before shutting the television off and helping Mary into a more comfortable sleeping position.

You tried not to dwell on the past, but it was hard not to when the only thing in your childhood that had always been good, always been constant, was Angus. Every time you looked into his eyes it was like the decade you had spent together flashed by in a sequence of blurs. All he had to do was breathe a specific way in his sleep to remind you of some obscure memory that had died but he had brought back to life.

This morning you felt like you were ten again and Angus was trying to steal your bread rolls at Thanksgiving dinner. Except today he tried swiping your bacon as you shoved him off playfully.

“Get your own Angus,” you say playfully.

“I’ll trade you for my toast,” he offers.

Rolling your eyes you accept, grabbing the bacon and shoving it in his mouth, “Fine.”

“Thank you,” he says, muffled.

You munch on your toast and catch Mr. Hunhams stare.

“I see you two finally made up,” he comments with a sly smile on his face.

“Mm-hmm,” you cover your mouth with your hand as you chew and turn away embarrassed.

Mary joins you all a second later, emerging as usual with her coffee and a cigarette. She switches between eyeing the two men infront of her, “Why’d you two miss supper last night?”

Mr. Hunham and Angus freeze. “We went into town on, uh, some school-related business.”

“And you couldn’t call? You left me and Y/n out in the cold.”

“Yeah Angus,” you pout at him as he nudges your ankle under the table.

“Sorry,” Hunham turned to you, “And to Ms. L/n.”

“No worries. Really. I had fun,” you smile up at Mary who pats your shoulders gently.

Danny, a man you had been introduced to a few days ago, enters with a mop and bucket. You wave to him which he acknowledges with a slight bow of his head.

“Good morning, everybody.”

“Hi, Danny,” Mr. Hunham greets.

“Good morning. You can go on in and make yourself a plate,” Mary points to the kitchen.

“I just saw something funny,” Danny focuses onto your friend. “I walked into the gym, and somebody had vomited in there.”

Mary and you raise your eyebrows in sync.

“You don’t say. I don’t know anything about that,” Mr. Hunham feigns surprise.

“Yeah, me neither,” Angus wipes his mouth as he speaks.

“I’ll look into that right away. Thank you,” he dismisses the conversation.

“Mm-hmm. I see how it is. Trying to leave us out of your boy's club,” Mary tsks. Danny places the custodian supplies beside Angus' chair and walks away.

“Gross Angus,” you say, like it's his full name. You shake your head in disappointment. He nudges your ankle harder, shaking the silverware above. You fight back, beginning to use your hands as a defense. You two are soon in a game of tug of war.

“Knock it off you two! You are acting like fractious children!” Mr. Hunham scolds and stands up from his seat. Across the table, he tries to part your hands. “This is not how young scholarly men and women behave!”

You and Angus are too drunk on laughter to care. …

You and Angus are in a search for Mr. Hunham who stomped away upon realizing stopping you two was a fruitless cause. You intend to apologize; Angus intends to nod along as you speak. You follow the chatter you hear coming from the kitchen to find Mary replacing you as you as her sous chef.

“Hey that's my job,” you point at the potatoes Mr. Hunham is peeling.

“That’s the culinary industry for you. It’s cut-throat. You still want to be a part of it?” Mary peers over her glasses.

You run a hand through your hair, shrugging. “Um. Mr. Hunham?”

He stops his task, “Yes Miss L/n?”

“I want to apologize for my-,” Angus clears his throat, “Our behavior. You were right. It was very inappropriate. Emily Post would turn in her grave.”

“She certainly would. I accept your apology, however unnecessary. I understand it was that childlike spirit in you that is still intact that came out.”

You shoot him a quizzical look. “Uh yeah…”

Angus gasps behind you as he notices the tray of brownies on a table beside him.

“Brownies? God, yes. I want all of these.”

“Each of you just take one. The rest are for the Christmas party tonight.”

Angus snags you a brownie before practically chomping his down.

“What Christmas party? There’s a Christmas party?” He perks up like a dog being told he’s going out for a walk.

“Yeah, at Miss Crane’s house. I’m only gonna go for a little bit, show my face and say I was there. You know Miss Crane said she invited you too.”

“Who’s Miss Crane?” You ask, inspecting the brownie and wondering what Mary does so differently to get it to taste so good.

“School secretary,” said Angus with a full mouth. “Just one of the loveliest faculty members at Barton,” said Mr. Hunham at the same time.

A beat passed as you all noted the flustered expression that passed through Mr. Hunham face.

“Ah- anyways, she didn’t mean it. We were just making small talk.”

“If you don’t want to go, don’t go. I’ll take them.”

“Mary can take us,” problem solved, Angus thinks.

“Oh! Okay… so we are going! I packed a dress that’s been collecting dust in my luggage.”

“No, that’s not how it works. You’re under my supervision,” Mr. Hunham reminds.

“Okay, maybe it’s fine for you to sit around reading books all day, but I am losing my goddamn mind! Jesus!” Angus' suddenness makes you flinch. You avoid the flying brownie as he storms past you.

“Hey! Watch your mouth, young man. Not on Christmas Eve!” Mary yells after him.

“You, see?” Mr. Hunham points at his retreating figure. “I can’t trust him in a social situation.”

“Mr. Hunham, if you’re too chickenshit to go to that party, then just say so. But don’t fuck it up for the little asshole or his sweet little angel of a friend! What’s wrong with you? It’s just a party. What are you afraid of?”

“I don’t know,” Mr. Hunham said so quietly you could hardly hear him.

“Shit. Now you’ve got me nervous,” Mary wipes her hands on her apron.

You’re still standing there until they hear you go retreat the brownie and throw it in a nearby waste bin. “I could replace those?” You laugh uncomfortably.

“That’s alright sweetie. I want to come out of this party with my reputation intact,” Mary winks.

“Ouch,” you clutch your heart jokingly. “So can I go get dolled up?” …

Someway, somehow, Mary had gotten Hunham to take you to the party. You got ready in the room Ye-Joon and Alex had occupied before. You hadn’t anticipated wearing anything fancy, so the dress you had was a relatively simple one. It was red which fit the Christmas theme well enough and ended just above your knees. You hoped Mr. Hunham wouldn’t make a big deal out of it like Ms. Orchard probably would. You wore flats and did your hair the best you could without products. Although you had managed to give it some more volume by using some leftover soda cans that had yet to be thrown out. It was a common hack all Janie Patrick School girls learned in their freshman year. It was practically a seminar, as the senior girls taught you how to roll them into your hair just right.

You waltz out of your room, feeling as fresh as a daisy and catch Angus shaving. You sneak up behind him, putting your hands on his shoulder and looking at him through the mirror. “What is there to shave Augie? You’re as clean shaven as a newborn baby,” you tease.

You try to check your makeup and feel Angus stiffen under your touch. You remove your hands and see him staring at you open-mouthed.

“What?” You panic. Had you screwed up your hair? Was your mascara too clumpy on your lashes?

“Nothing,” he gives you a once over as he gulps. “You just, you look, you… you look pretty.”

“Oh,” you tuck your hair behind your ear, “Thank you. It’s just the makeup.”

“No, it’s not that. You always look pretty; I just never have a reason to tell you. But I can… today.”

“You look handsome everyday too…” you fidget with your hands.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smile up at him bashfully. Quickly you take the razor from his hands, “even more handsome once you change. We’re going to be late."

You run back to your room and try to regulate your breathing. In the reflection of the fogged-up window, you admire yourself momentarily. You suppose you do look pretty tonight. …

You four travel in Mr. Hunhams rickety car. You awe at the town Christmas lights before arriving in front of what you assumed to be Miss Cranes house. One by one you all enter, lingering by the front door like wallflowers. You inch closer to Angus, self-conscious suddenly. You loop your arms together when Miss Crane enters to greet you.

“Oh, hi. Oh, you made it! Welcome,” she pauses to address you and Angus, “Aw hi!”

“I'm so glad you're here,” she tells Mary.

She laughs at the flattery and refers to the brownies, “Where should I put these?”

“Um, oh,” Miss Crane lifts the cloth draped over the tray and gasps, “Those, I’ll be putting on my bedside table.”

“Oh! You're a wicked woman.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” she takes the tray off Mary's hands.

“Certainly a lot of people here,” Hunham comments, surveying the room. It is lively with Christmas classics blasting on the radio and kids running around playing tag. The entire house is decked out, almost looking like the spirit of Christmas had barfed out the decorations. Some adults take a swing of their liquor, others smoke, others do both as they chat.

“Yeah, yeah. Some family, friends from town. Only you guys from work.”

“That’s my mom on the couch,” She points to an older lady sitting by the silver and blue Christmas tree. Next to the woman dancing with her toddler who wears no pants. “Uh, that’s my sister Kathy and her son Marvin.”

As she continues to point out each invitee you wander with Angus further into the living room. He seems captivated by a snow globe on a mantel. He shakes it and watches as the snow falls around Santa. You too are enchanted by the sweet melody that plays from it.

“Angus!” Miss Crane snaps you both from your trance. Miss Crane stands next to a girl who appears to be around your age.

“This is Angus Tully. He’s one of our students at Barton. Angus, this is my niece, Elise,” she introduces.

“Niece Elise. Nice,” he glances at you, hoping you got the joke as Elise rolls her eyes at his word play. You give him a tight-lipped smile. “And is his friend Y/n L/n. She goes to the school across the lake from Barton. Janie Patrick’s.”

“Nice to meet you,” you stretch out your hand for her to shake. She does so awkwardly.

“And this is Mr. Hunham. He’s one of our finest teachers. History, right?

“Ancient Civilizations, yes”.

“And this is Mary Lamb. She’s the manager of the cafeteria.”

You don’t know why, but you start chewing your nails. A habit you had thought you had broken in the seventh grade. You bite down particularly hard every time Angus glances at Elise.

“Hey, why don’t you take Angus down to the basement and introduce him to our family tradition?” Miss Crane has a hint of something you can’t identify in her voice.

“Come on,” Elise tilts her head and hesitantly he seems to follow.

“Um. What about Y/n? Can’t she come?”

“Don't worry about that! I have someone I think she would like to meet,” Miss Crane nudges you forward.

“Oh?” you say worriedly.

Elise takes Angus away by the hand and distantly you hear him call out, “Wait what?”

“His name is Joseph Leery. He’s a freshman at Yale!” she gushes.

“Oh? Great? Go bulldogs? That’s the mascot, right?”

“Honey, save your charm for him!”

…

Angus descends downstairs. He repeatedly glances behind him, desperately searching for the remaining bits of your voice. “Um. Maybe I should go back upstairs? My friend Y/n doesn’t do so well with crowds so.”

“Nonsense! She’ll be fine. If I know Auntie Lydia, she’s probably introducing her to the Leery's son, Joe.”

“Joe?” Angus scowls at the name.

“Yeah. Family friend of ours.”

Elise leads him to an arts and craft table, full of scattered red, green, silver and white pipe cleaners. Glitter is spilled everywhere, and the kids take their time decorating their popsicle sticks.

“This is what you wanted to show me?”

“I grew up playing down here during my aunt’s parties. I think it’s kind of cool. There’s a purity to it. I mean, every child is an artist. The problem is remaining an artist when we grow up. Picasso said that.”

“Picasso’s cool,” Angus digs his hand further into his front pockets, “I saw Guérnica once. You know, the big mural, with the horse,” He tries to mimic it as best he can.

“Yeah, I know Guérnica. You really saw it?”

“Yeah. At the Museum of Modern Art in New York. It’s huge. My dad took me.” And Y/n too, he wants to say. Although if what Elise said was true, that Miss Crane fancied herself a modern-day cupid, then he figures he should try not to scare her off by bringing up another girl.

Although it's hard not to think of you when he thinks of his dad. His dad liked puzzles which you happened to have a plethora of that your parents had bought you to keep you entertained during long plane rides. This was before they trusted you enough to leave home alone.

In the winter you’d sit by the fireplace and lay out the puzzles of Monet’s Water Lilies. Then when the spring would offer you limited warmth, you’d all be found in the backyard of Angus’s house trying to piece together Van Gogh's Starry Night.

So many art inspired puzzles eventually had Angus’s father turn to you both and asking, “How would you guys like to see these in real life?”

That easter break had you three crammed into a yellow taxicab and enjoying New York pizza slices.

“Hey Guérnica,” she breaks through his nostalgia plagued mind, “You just gave me an idea,” she smiles.

…

Mr. Hunham stands by the funky-looking Christmas tree when he feels someone’s lips crash onto his cheek.

“Oh!” He says shocked. He feels as if he had just been dumped into a cold bucket of water.

“Mistletoe!” Miss Crane laughs, pointing at the little green and red plant that hangs on the ceiling. She hands him the Jim Beam he asked for earlier as she wipes the side of his face clean to get rid of any lipstick that might have been transferred.

“Yes, of course,” he laughs along, unsure of what else to do but to let her caress his face. “I didn’t you know you were quite the mastermind.”

Miss Crane tilts her head and motions him to elaborate

“Playing matchmaker for Mr. Tully and Ms. L/n.”

“Oh! Well, when Angus said they weren’t an item I figured they’d were itching for a chance to mingle outside of their little circle. I hope I didn’t overstep anything. After all I imagine they don’t get many opportunities to openly chat with people of the opposite sex! Dating is crucial in shaping character.”

“Yes, I imagine it is,” Mr. Hunham agrees, unsure if that is fact or fiction. He is awful at letting silence just be silence, so he does what he does best. Spew nonsensical facts.

“You know, it’s interesting. Aeneas carried mistletoe with him when he descended into Hades in search of his father.”

“Oh. Huh…” Now it is Miss Crane who is unsure of what to do with that.

“Um. Anyways. I like your tree. It’s really space age,” he comments and is hit slightly in the shoulder by her enthusiastic hand.

“I brought it to commemorate the moon landing!”

“Really? Wow.”

Miss Crane takes a sip of her punch, “So where is your family this Christmas.”

“Nowhere. I’m an only child. My mother died when I was young.”

“And your father?”

“Let's just say I left home when I was fifteen.” If Mr. Hunham had known this was what small talk topics had evolved into, then he must have been right in avoiding social functions all this time.

“You ran away?” She guesses.

“Worse. I got a scholarship to Barton. And from there, I went to college and never looked back.”

“But you did a little,” she points out.

“Hmm?”

“I mean you came back here.”

“Ah.” He really did not feel like being questioned so heavily tonight. Not to pat himself in the back, but he believes he's credible enough to label himself as a decent writer, able to handle the equal weight of a pen and his words with ease. But as a conversationalist, he figures even one of the dimwits in his Ancient Civilization classes have him beat.

“It feels kind of like home I guess,” he muses, “and I guess I thought I could make a difference. I mean, I used to think I could prepare them for the world even a little. Provide standard and grounding that Dr. Greene always drilled into us.”

Mr. Hunham can feel himself run out of breath, “But, uh the world doesn’t make sense anymore. I mean it's on fire. The rich don’t give a shit. Poor kids are cannon fodder. Integrity is a punchline. Trust is just the name of a bank.”

“Well…” Miss Crane tries to soothe him by running her hand back and forth on his arm, “look, if that's all true then now is when they most need someone like you.”

Mr. Hunham knows when he is being humored and told what people he wants to hear. He looks at Miss. Crane and for the first time in a while he is looked back at with genuineness.

…

Elise and Angus finger paint on a wide piece of blank paper. He’s mixing the colors, and they all tend to come out looking a sickly brown. Elise covers her side with an untainted red. She seems to be more into it than him as she incorporates real swirls and shapes onto their canvas.

“Am I doing this right?”

“There is no right or wrong,” she reassures. He feels her stare linger on him for a second. He is scared to look up. “Are you okay? You seem… gloomy.”

“Yeah. I’m fine. But, uh, tell me about this Joe guy.”

She looks at him suspiciously, “Why?”

“Just curious. Don’t think I’ve ever heard of him around my school is all.”

“Well probably because he graduated over a year ago.”

“So, he’s in college.”

“Yes. A freshman at Yale.”

“Yale!” He shouts loud enough for even the kids to glare at him for disturbing their fun. “Sorry,” he apologies to them.

“Would you say he’s cool,” he asks a millisecond later.

Elise tries not to laugh at his blatant desperation, “Yeah I would say so.”

“Funny?”

“He's basically Gene Wilder.”

“The dude from The Producers?!”

“Yes, and he was also a football quarterback.”

“What.”

“And valedictorian, and the heir to the Campbell Soup Company.”

“What the hell? Is this guy superman or,” Angus takes a minute to recognize the smug face on Elise. Finally, she breaks out in a loud giggle.

“Oh,” Angus sighs in relief, “You’re messing with me.”

“A little,” she says through fits of laughter. “Anyways if you’re so worried why don’t you go back up there?”

“I was just worried that he would try something. But technically he sounds alright.”

“Ah. So, you’re jealous?”

Angus rolls his eyes, “No. I’m a concerned friend.”

“I’m not sure about that. Concerned friends don’t start interrogating the girl they are on a hypothetical date with.”

She leans down to point at a glob of paint in the corner of the paper, “I think you even doodled her name.”

“Shit,” he curses under his breath, going over it and trying to cover it up along with his embarrassment.

“Don’t worry. It’s not like this was going to go be framed at the MET.”

“What are you implying anyway,” he narrows his eyes.

“You’re going crazy being gone from her for two minutes. What do you think I’m implying?”

Angus slumps his shoulders and admits what had been ignoring. It's like a message in a bottle he threw into the sea, desperately trying to avoid the shore. Even when it does reach land, the cap is tightly sealed, clinging on to the bottle and doing it best to remain unread. When it does pop open and the paper is unfolded, although it might be difficult to read, the message still exists. It still exists even though time fought so hard to destroy it.

“I do think about her that way. Sometimes. Then the rational side comes out and tells me that it's human nature for a girl and guy friend to think about each other that way.”

“Well, does she know you think about her that way?”

“No. Sometimes I imagine she feels the same, but you’d have to know her to understand why I’m so confused. She’s the most thoughtful, kind, and perfect person in the world. It's hard to tell if she’s showing that side to everyone or if I’m special enough for her to give me that treatment.”

“You know Picasso also said that ‘Everything you can imagine is real’.”

“Are you Picasso's biographer?”

Without missing a beat, Elise smirks and says, “Yes.”

Angus is up the stairs without having thanking her, too fueled by adrenaline to practice basic manners. He’ll have to tell Miss Crane to pass on the memo. He’s on the hunt for you but is yanked into the house's kitchen by a mysterious hand.

“Hey?” He asks, disoriented.

Danny is staring straight at him, with both hands on either side of his shoulder.

“I need you to find Mr. Hunham,” he orders. Angus looks past the man to see Mary weeping heavily into the sink. Understanding, he nods firmly and is back out the door.

…

Joseph Leery is not half bad. He’s kind of funny, clever and not a bad person to pass the time with. You sit in the back of Miss Crane's living room on a couch all to yourselves. He tells you how he’s majoring in English in hopes of becoming a journalist.

“What kind of journalist?”

“Investigative. I would love to be the next Upton Sinclair. Or Seymour Hersch.”

“Ew! The Jungle made me so sick for a week after. It was so gross.”

“I know but that's what made it so great. Exposing the meat packing industry probably put him on a few hit lists too.”

“Oh yeah definitely. So, then who are you planning to expose?”

He laughs, “I don’t know yet. Is there any chance you’re planning on becoming some corrupt politician?”

“Not in the foreseeable future. I’ll let you know if I ever do,” you giggle.

“What are you planning to do then?”

“Then? Um... Like as president? I don’t know. Fund schools-.”

“No,” he laughs harder, “I mean like with college and life. Do you have anything planned out?”

“Erm, not really. My parents probably want me to go to the Ivy Leagues and crap. I should have a plan, I know, but I guess I’ve been putting it on the back burner.”

“Why?”

You shift in your seat. “I have this friend. He’s sort of had this rocky life, not I haven’t, and I know it's stupid to mold your entire life to fit around one person’s but for him I would.”

Joseph sniffs and straightens his posture. “Sorry. Lydia didn’t mention you having a boyfriend.”

“No, I don’t,” you stress, “I just really care for him, you know. We’ve known each other for so long. He’s important to me.”

“Y/n have you ever read Persuasion?” he asked suddenly.

“Um, not yet. I know the gist of it.”

“Well, it's ultimately about regret, right? Anne spends eight years longing for Wentworth when she could have been with him instead, had she not given into pressures. The point of the novel is not to wait to love the person you’re sure is it for you.”

“Love?” You hear someone say above you. You look up to see Angus, his arms stiff by his side. He glowers at Joseph. You jump off the seat and on operating on some strange reflex you go to fix his shirt collar that has stood up.

“What's wrong?”

“What were you guys talking about?” he interrogates.

“Books. Why?”

Angus doesn’t buy it but ignores the gnawing feeling in his gut, “Mary needs us in the kitchen. Go ahead, I still need to get Hunham.”

“Oh…Alright,” you turn and wave to your brief companion. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah maybe,” Joseph lifts his canned soda as if to say cheers.

You walk on ahead as Angus loiters behind, silently scrutinizing him.

Joseph takes a sip from his coke and points towards the direction you disappeared to. “Your girl went that way man.”

Angus rolls his eyes but leaves, nonetheless.

…

Miss Crane and Paul are sitting next to each other, their drink half-finished. They can feel the red tinge on their cheeks and themselves becoming looser.

“Are you planning anything special for tomorrow?” Lydia inquires.

“No. Why? Are you having a…”

“No, I just thought maybe you’d be doing something special for Angus and Y/n.”

Mr. Hunham shakes his head and Miss Crane lets out a small gasp, “You should! Help preserve some of the magic. Angus may be a little difficult, but he’s still just a kid. So is Y/n. And life catches up to them so fast. Them,” she stares at her lap, contemplating. “Ha. Us!”

“You’re a very sweet person, Miss Crane,” he compliments.

Miss Crane melts, “So are you, when you want to be,” she quips, “and it’s Lydia.”

He enjoys the feeling of camaraderie between them. He feels a cool breeze at the back of his neck and the sound of the door opening.

“Excuse me for a minute,” Miss Crane gets up and moves past him.

Mr. Hunham turns in time to see a man take off his coat, a gift under his arm. A moment later Miss Crane is there to receive him with a kiss. Together they walk away, and Mr. Hunham is left alone. Once again.

“Mr. Hunham, could you come with me, please?” Angus nearly trips as he stumbles over to the teacher.

“Yeah, what is it?” He sighs as he gets up with a groan.

“Come on, it's serious,” Angus leaps away. Peeking at him at the corner to see is Hunham is following, “Come on.”

Mr. Hunham is dragged into the kitchen, where he spots Mary, crying quietly to herself. Danny is next to her. You’re across the room biting your nails and hinting at Mr. Hunham to do something.

“Mary? You alright?” he questions, even though he knows it's in vain.

“Just leave me alone,” She mumbles.

“Want me to take you home?” Danny offers, placing what he thinks is a consoling hand on her back.

“Back off! Back off!” Mary whisper-shouts, her hands shaking down in anger. Mr. Hunham shuts the door, giving her privacy if nothing else.

“He’s gone,” she erupts into full on sobs. The mask comes off and she’s no longer Mary, the woman who appears to deal with grief like it was nothing but a bump on the road. Instead, it's Mary, who lost a son and whose grief has entirely consumed her until she can no longer breathe.

…

Angus and Mr. Hunham support Mary on both sides, as they make their way to the car. “I was right. This is why I hate parties. That was a disaster. Total disaster!”

“Speak for yourself. I was having a pretty profound conversation. I was about to make some serious life altering moves,” he blurts, angry and unable to believe his window opportunity was slammed shut. He had an internal plan. That'd he’d whisk you away from stupid Joseph and ask you to dance, maybe lead you to a mistletoe and see where it goes.

“With whom? The niece? Are you kidding me? This poor woman is bereft, and all you can think about is some silly girl.”

“I don’t need you feeling sorry for me.”

“I’m not talking about Elise; I'm just saying this is the first good thing that came from being in this prison with you.”

“Need I remind you it’s not my fault you’re stuck here? Do you think I want to babysit you? I was praying to the God I don’t believe in that your mother would pick up the phone, or your father would arrive in a helicopter or a submarine or a flying fucking saucer to take you-.”

“My father’s dead,”

“Angus-,” he hears you say but he holds up his hand for you to stop speaking.

Mr. Hunham stops dead in his rant, “But I thought your father-.”

“That’s just some rich guy my mom married. Give me your keys,” he sticks out his hand.

“It’s unlocked.”

Furiously, Angus stomps away. You excuse yourself from the two adults before doing your damnedest to not slip on the ice. Flats at this time of the year were not your best idea.

“Angus,” you reach him, tugging at the back of his jacket so that he’ll slow down. “Why did you say that?”

“Say what?”

“The thing about your dad,” you mumble.

“The way my mom and Stanley talk about him, he might as well be don’t you think?”

“You don’t mean that,” you scold. “What happened? Are you really this mad about Elise?”

“No. Damn it. I don’t even like Elise.”

“Oh,” despite the circumstance, you can’t help but feel giddy. “Then what is it?”

“You seemed to be having a pretty good time yourself with Joe on that couch.”

“Joe?” You cross your arms. “You mean Joseph?”

“Oh great. You have a nickname for him.”

“Angus, Joseph is his legal name, that's the opposite of a nickname.”

“I don’t want to talk about Joe,” he says. You both reach the end of the block where Hunhams car is parked. In the distance you see them come closer, their feet crushing the white snow.

“You brought him up,” you massage your temple. You think back of the endless list of books you have read, or the many movies you’ve watched. You scour through the genres. You think of how Joseph managed to connect to life. You think of the rewatch of Cactus Flower with Mary. How envious Ingrid Bergman character was every time she saw Julian talk to Toni.

“Angus, were you jealous of Joseph?”

He stops his ongoing struggle with the car handle, finally prying it open.

“Were you jealous of Elise?” he asks you.

You frown and fixate on the pavement; your nails dig into your palm as your hands turn into fists. Deafening silence engulfs you before Angus exhales heavily. Before you can speak, Mr. Hunham arrives and motions for you to scooch over so he can open the passenger side for Mary.

“Sorry,” you apologize and get in the backseat.

“Straight to bed you hear me,” Mr. Hunham warns once you are all buckled in. “Enough theatrics for one day.”

“Mmhmm,” Angus responds, but all he is doing is looking at you.

#angus tully #the holdovers #angus tully x reader

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jetii · 2 months

Text

Event Horizon

Chapter Three: Undying

Chapter WC: 5,192

A/N: Here's the final chapter in part one. I'll finally stop changing the banner now. Also wow!! 300 followers! Love you all 💙

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The bar is busy, packed with beings of all shapes and sizes. The air is thick with the smell of smoke and alcohol, the music pounding, and the crowd cheering. It's dark, and hot, and the only light comes from the glowing drinks being carried about and the flashing neon signs that adorn the walls and ceiling.

You're sitting alone at the counter, a drink in your hand, watching the chaos unfold. You don't remember the name of this drink, but it's sweet, and the buzz you feel is a pleasant one. Your body feels heavy, but not in an uncomfortable way, and the pain in your chest has receded to a dull ache.

You're tired.

It's late, or early, depending on who you ask, and you've been sitting here for hours. You haven't eaten since the morning, and the drinks are already going to your head, but you don't care.

You're not sure you've ever felt this alone, and the fact that it's your own fault is not lost on you.

You've made a lot of mistakes in the past few days, but the biggest was leaving. It was a stupid thing to do, but you were upset, and angry, and hurt, and you wanted nothing more than to forget, if only for a little while.

There was only one place you could think to go. A place where no one would ask questions, or judge you. Where you could drown out the world and not worry about the consequences.

So you'd gone.

Obi-Wan would probably be horrified. You can almost picture his face, the look of disappointment, the shake of his head, and the pursed lips. He'd scold you and remind you of the rules, and he'd lecture you on the dangers of the city and the foolishness of your decision.

It's a testament to your stubbornness that you don't care.

The bartender, a Twi'lek, is eyeing you but doesn't say a word, which is a blessing. The last thing you want is small talk, or an argument, or another person to disappoint.

You raise your glass and drain the rest of the liquid, the sweetness coating your tongue and the bitter aftertaste making you wince. You motion to the bartender, and he refills the glass without asking if you want anything else.

You sip this one slower, savoring the taste and the warmth it brings. It's a welcome reprieve from the coldness inside you, and the heaviness in your chest, and the aching in your head.

"Mind if I sit?"

You look up and find a Pantoran man standing beside you, a smile on his face. He's handsome, his skin a brilliant blue and his hair a shock of white, and there’s a yellow marking on his chin and two half-moon crescents below his bottom lip. He's tall and thin, his clothing impeccably clean and expensive looking. Certainly not the sort of person you'd expect to find in a place like this.

You shrug and take a drink.

"Suit yourself," you mumble, and you look away.

The man sits, and he motions to the bartender. A few minutes later, he has his own drink, a bright blue concoction that smells strongly of alcohol.

You watch the bartender go and then turn back to the man. He's looking at you, an appraising look on his face, his eyes sweeping up and down your body. You're not unfamiliar with the look, and usually you'd make a comment about it, but today you're not in the mood.

So you say nothing and stare into your drink, swirling the liquid around.

"Bad day?"

"Can I help you?" you ask, an edge to your voice. You look up and find him watching you, his gaze unwavering. He looks pleased, and he raises an eyebrow.

"Yes, actually."

You sigh and push your glass aside, suddenly annoyed. You didn't come here for conversation, and you certainly didn't come here to flirt.

"No thanks," you reply and start to stand.

"I thought Jedi were supposed to be generous," he remarks casually. His voice is smooth and cultured, and it reminds you of Obi-Wan's, which just annoys you more. "Especially toward strangers."

"We are," you reply, narrowing your eyes. "But not when we're being propositioned."

He grins, his teeth white and gleaming, and raises his hands. He laughs and leans back on the stool.

"Relax," he says. "I'm not here for that."

"Oh?"

"No."

You slump back down and fold your arms. You can't deny that you're a little curious.

"Then what are you here for?"

The Pantoran hums, and he taps a finger on the counter. His nails are filed and painted gold. "I need help," he admits. "Your kind of help."

You frown. "With?"

He nods and takes a drink, draining the glass. He sets it down and turns back to you.

"I have a friend. He lives on the lower levels, and he's been...missing. No one's heard from him in days, and no one's seen him. I'm worried he might have gotten into some trouble."

You straighten a little in your seat and look at him, considering. "What kind of trouble?"

"I'm not sure." He shrugs. "Maybe nothing. But if I don't find him, he'll end up on the wrong side of the law."

You hesitate and glance down. The ice in your drink has melted, and it's starting to look less appetizing.

"Please," the man adds. "I can pay you."

You shake your head. You don't want or need his money, just as you don't want to involve yourself in whatever his problems are. Jedi weren't supposed to get involved in local matters. Not unless the Council ordered them or there was clear and present danger.

This isn't the kind of situation that calls for the Jedi. And the Council wouldn't approve, anyway.

"Sorry," you say. "I can't."

"Come on," the man cajoles. The casual facade fades, and you can hear the desperation in his voice, see the pleading in his eyes. "All I need is for you to help me find him, and then I'll be out of your hair. Please?"

You shift in your seat and stare at your hands. "I can't. I'm sorry."

"You're a Jedi. Don't you care about helping people?"

The response you'd been preparing dies in your throat. Of course you cared. That was why you were here, wasn't it? Because you'd cared too much, and now, Yaddle was dead, and the Council had turned a blind eye, and Obi-Wan... Well, that didn't matter, did it?

"Why don't you ask the authorities?" you ask, looking up and meeting his eyes.

"The authorities are the ones I'm worried about," he admits quietly.

You swallow and take a breath, weighing the pros and cons. You could help him, you reason. And it's not like the Council was expecting you back anytime soon. They didn't even know you were gone, and the likelihood of them finding out was slim to none.

You could do this, and no one would ever have to know.

Besides, it was better than sitting around and doing nothing. Much better than thinking about everything that had happened, and the emptiness you were feeling, and the loneliness.

"I can pay you," he says again, his eyes pleading. "Just...please."

"Fine," you relent. "I'll help. But you're going to have to answer a few questions first."

He gives you a blindingly bright smile. It's an attractive, boyish grin, one that's no doubt charmed many a soul, and you can't help but return it, albeit somewhat hesitantly.

"Anything," he says as he scoots closer to you.

You motion to the bartender and ask him for a pen and a sheet of flimsi. He gives it to you, and you turn back to the man. "Let's start with a name."

Twenty minutes later, you find yourself outside, heading down the street toward the lower levels. It's late, and the sky is clear, the city lights casting a glow on the buildings and streets. You'd had one too many drinks, but the fresh air is helping, and the man — Vayel, he'd said — doesn't seem to mind.

He walks with a bounce in his step, and you have a hard time keeping up. His stride is long, and he's quick, and more than once you find yourself jogging and he has to slow down for you. You've never met anyone quite so enthusiastic, but he seems sincere enough. It's a bit of a refreshing change from the usual stoic, somber nature of the Jedi.

"So, what do you do?" you ask, trying to make conversation.

"I'm an actor," he replies with a flourish of his hand, a proud smile on his face. He says the word like he's making a meal of it, rolling it around, savoring the sound.

Your eyebrows raise. "Really?"

"Yes." He flashes you another brilliant grin, and you find yourself smiling in spite of yourself.

"That's impressive," you admit.

"Thanks." He laughs, and it's a warm, rich sound. He's handsome and charming, and if it wasn't for the situation, you'd probably be enjoying his company.

As it is, though, you're still feeling a little guilty for how you treated him initially, and not a little bit confused. The whole thing feels odd. But he had said his friend was missing, and he seemed genuinely worried, so you reason with yourself that the strange feeling is just the alcohol talking.

"Any roles I might have seen?"

"I doubt it."

"Well, what's the name of the play?"

Vayel's expression falters, and he looks away, his eyes focused on the buildings ahead.

"It's...um, it's not out yet," he admits sheepishly. "It's a new production."

You nod and glance at him. He doesn't look back, his eyes fixed on the distance. There's something about the way he's acting that makes you curious, and you're not sure you believe him.

But, then again, it's not like you'd ever really been interested in theater.

"Yeah, it's...well, it's a bit of a work in progress," he continues, as if you'd asked, and smiles weakly.

"Ah."

"What about you?" he asks a moment later. "How long have you been a Jedi?"

You sigh and look away. You don't really feel like talking about yourself, or anything related to the Order, but he's trying, and you can't begrudge him that.

"Since I was two," you answer flatly and keep walking.

"Wow."

"Yep."

"That's amazing," he exclaims, his eyes wide. "It must have been difficult, leaving your family."

Your jaw clenches, and you look at him. He's got a strange expression on his face, one you can't read. He's watching you, his head tilted slightly to the side, a slight smile on his face.

"Not really," you say, shrugging. "I was too young to remember."

"But they must have been sad to see you go," he persists. "Your family."

"I wouldn't know."

"They didn't visit you, at the Temple?"

"They weren't allowed," you reply, and you leave it at that.

Vayel nods, and you think the subject has been dropped, but a few seconds later, he speaks.

"Are Jedi not allowed to have families?" he asks, and the question takes you by surprise. You'd never really thought about it before, not beyond the fact that, growing up, you didn't have a choice. You'd had no parents, no siblings, no aunts or uncles or cousins. Just the Jedi.

"No," you tell him, shaking your head.

"What happens if a Jedi falls in love?"

You stop and look at him, his words ringing in your ears. You're not sure why he's asking, or why he cares, and you can't tell if he's just making small talk, or if there's a different agenda.

But there's something in the way he's looking at you that makes your stomach twist. He's staring at you intently, his gaze searching, and there's a softness to his features, a vulnerability that makes him look younger, less self-assured.

"They don't," you say, finally.

"Never?"

"Not that I know of."

"And what if they do?"

"Well," you begin, trying to recall if anyone had ever fallen in love in the Order. You think if it had happened, there'd be more stories about it, more tales. But the truth is, no one's ever mentioned it, and no one's ever said anything about it. Perhaps that's the sort of thing the Council would keep quiet, especially if they were worried about the Order's reputation.

Or maybe, you realize, as you look into Vayel's eyes and see the curiosity there, the interest, it's something they try to discourage, try to avoid. Maybe they want to make sure that the Jedi stay focused, and not distracted.

And maybe that's the whole problem.

You turn and continue walking, your heart pounding. "I guess they'd be expelled," you mumble, your throat suddenly dry.

Vayel looks down, his brow furrowing, and he kicks a pebble, sending it skipping across the street. "That seems..."

"Harsh?" you suggest, a bit of annoyance creeping into your voice.

"No," he replies slowly, "unfair."

"I'm sorry?"

"You're all just...people," he says, gesturing at you. The array of jewels and gems on his fingers glitter, reflecting the light. "Isn't it unfair to deny you the things that everyone else has? Love, family, happiness."

You pause and look at him. The night is still, and the air is cool, and there's a tension in the space between the two of you, one that hadn't been there a moment ago.

"It's not a denial," you say, your irritation growing. "It's a choice. A decision."

"But why?"

"Because the Jedi Code—"

"Forgive me, but the Jedi Code doesn't seem to make any sense," he interrupts. "If you ask me, it's just a bunch of rules created by a bunch of old men who like to tell other people what to do."

You bristle and turn toward him, your jaw clenched. "Is that so?"

"Yes," he replies, and then he adds nonchalantly, "I mean, no disrespect, or anything."

"Sure, none taken," you mutter sarcastically. You turn and begin to walk, and he follows. He has the good grace to look a little embarrassed, and the two of you continue on in silence, the only sound the hum of traffic and the distant voices of the occasional passerby.

Finally, Vayel speaks.

"It's just up ahead," he says. "The building. He should be home."

You nod, and follow him down a winding alley to a tall, narrow building, surrounded by other, similar buildings. The entire neighborhood is dimly lit, and the street lamps flicker. There are no signs, and no shops, and no businesses, just rows of identical structures, their facades crumbling, the windows dark and empty.

It's certainly a far cry from the splendor of the upper levels, and you can't help but wonder what had led this man, this friend of his, to a place like this. Maybe he was on the run, you think. Or maybe he was hiding from someone. Either way, the fact that he'd chosen such a dangerous place was worrisome.

Vayel stops at the front door to an apartment on the bottom floor and looks back at you, flashing a smile.

"Here," Vayel says as he pulls a keycard from his pocket. He hands it to you, and then steps back, waiting.

"Are you coming?" you ask, a bit impatiently.

"Oh, no," he replies. "You go ahead. Just...make sure he's okay, and then let me know."

Your eyes narrow. "And what will you be doing?"

"I'll wait here."

"Are you serious?"

"I can't go in," he explains and gives a nervous chuckle. "He won't be happy to see me, not after what happened."

You're not sure what to make of that, or whether you should believe him. It feels off, the way he's acting, and there's a nagging feeling in the back of your mind that something isn't right. But you're also eager to be rid of him, so you shrug and take the key.

"Fine," you tell him. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

You unlock the door and open it, and then you step inside.

The apartment is small and cramped, and there are piles of junk everywhere. The smell of something rotting is thick in the air, and you have to resist the urge to gag. You've spent enough time on the lower levels to recognize the smell, but you've never been anywhere it's been this bad.

There are several doors along the hallway, and the one closest to you is open. You peer in and see a bedroom. There's a bed against the wall and a closet, and the room is strewn with clothing and food wrappers and various other objects. But you don't see or sense anyone inside.

You walk back down the hall and check the other rooms, finding a kitchen, a child's bedroom, and a bathroom. No one is in any of them, but there's a pile of dishes in the sink, and a small amount of food in the cupboard, and the bed has clearly been slept in.

It's obvious someone is living here, or was, but you can't tell if they've been gone for a few hours or a few days. There's no sign of a struggle, or any violence. In fact, it looks like they left of their own accord, and without warning. It's odd, and you can't help but feel like you're missing something.

You pull out your commlink and send a message to Vayel, telling him there's no sign of his friend. A second later, you receive a response, telling you to check the bedroom again.

So you do.

As soon as you enter, the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

You look around the room, and you see nothing out of the ordinary. Everything is exactly as it was before. But there's a feeling in the air, a heaviness, and it's familiar, somehow.

You frown, and take a step forward, and then stop, a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Because suddenly, you recognize the feeling.

Your eyes land on the closet, and the door swings slowly open on its hinges. There, sitting in the middle of a pile of worn clothes, is a box. It's nondescript, plain brown and rectangular, and it's sitting upright, like it's been placed there rather than haphazardly thrown inside.

Your instincts are screaming at you to run, but your curiosity gets the better of you. You approach the closet slowly and kneel in front of the box. Your hand hovers over the top, and then you take a breath and reach down, pulling it open.

There are several items, all of them seemingly random. A scrap of fabric, a datapad, a holoprojector. There's also a piece of jewelry, a necklace, made of gold and set with a blue stone, and a small, black leather pouch with a handful of credits.

You set the bag of credits aside and grab the scrap of fabric, moving it away from the datapad. It's soft and worn, and as your fingers brush against it, you realize what it is.

Yaddle's robe.

She'd been wearing it the night she'd died.

You jerk your hand away as if burned, and you stare at the fabric, the dread you'd felt earlier now a cold, heavy weight in your stomach. You swallow, and then force yourself to reach for the datapad, your hand trembling. It flickers on underneath your touch, and once you close the warning of its low power, you're face to face with the last unread message, dated a week ago.

The message you sent Yaddle the night you felt her death.

You'd forgotten about it, the stress of the Sith investigation, your Trials, and the Council's refusal to listen to you had caused it to slip your mind. You'd been too busy trying to solve her murder to remember, and now, the memory of that night is back, sharp and painful.

Master, are you alright? Please just let me know you're safe. I can come to you if you need me. Just send a message.

There's no reply, just the date, and the time, and the fact that the message had gone unread.

You look away, and blink back the tears that have suddenly sprung to your eyes. You need to get out of here, to take the evidence, and get back to the Temple. The Council will have to listen to you now, and you can prove that the Sith are here, that they're targeting the Jedi, that they're the ones responsible for Yaddle's death.

And maybe, just maybe, the Council will finally be willing to acknowledge that there's a problem, that there's something more going on, and that they're in danger.

You set the datapad aside, and reach for the necklace, the gold glinting in the dim light of the room, and the stone gleaming. You've never seen Yaddle wear anything like this, and you're not even sure it belonged to her. It's not a traditional Jedi accessory, and the Council isn't big on extravagance.

But there's something familiar about it, and you can't help but feel that it's significant. You pick it up, the metal cool against your skin, and you inspect it, turning it over and over in your hands. The stone is smooth and polished, and it shines brilliantly, catching the light and refracting it.

It's a beautiful piece, but it's not anything special, or unusual, and it's not the sort of thing you'd expect Yaddle to have. You don’t have an explanation for it, but it feels like her, so you resolve to take it with you, as evidence, and examine it closer later.

But the moment you slide the necklace into your pocket, you hear a noise behind you.

The door slams shut.

You whip around and stand, but before your hand can draw your lightsaber, you're thrown across the room, hitting the far wall hard enough to rattle your teeth.

You gasp for breath and manage to push yourself up. Your limbs are heavy, and your head is spinning, and when you try to summon the Force, nothing happens.

Across the room, the figure emerges from the shadows, face shrouded by a hood. It's a man, tall and thin, his shoulders hunched and his posture tense. You can't see his face, but his presence in the Force is unmistakable. The darkness, the cold, the malice.

Your vision is blurry, and your lungs ache, and you can taste blood in your mouth. He approaches, his steps slow and deliberate. He doesn't speak, and neither do you. Your mouth is dry, and your throat is tight, and when you try to swallow, the lump lodged there makes it impossible.

When he reaches the box, he kneels down and touches the holoprojector. It crackles and a voice comes out, faint and distant, but immediately recognizable. Your heart clenches, and a single tear rolls down your cheek.

"There's something wrong. I must find out what—" Yaddle’s voice says, and the man's fingers clench. The metal crumples, and the projector sparks and dies.

He stands and turns toward you, the shadows obscuring his face.

You can't move. You're frozen in place, the fear paralyzing you. You want to speak, to plead for your life, to bargain, but the words won't come, and all you can do is stare. When he reaches out and lifts his hand, his fingers curled into a claw, you begin to scream.

"No," you gasp. "Please."

It feels as though his fingers are around your throat, your feet dangling as you're pressed back against the wall. You struggle, kicking out, trying to break free, but he's too strong. Your limbs are heavy, and there's nothing you can do to fight him.

"Please," you choke, the word barely audible. "Don't—"

His grip tightens, and your vision starts to blur. The Sith steps closer, holding you higher, and when he speaks, his voice is low and dark.

"You should have let it go," he says, and the coldness in his voice sends a shiver down your spine.

Your eyes widen, and you try to shake your head, but you can't. All you can do is hang there, suspended, struggling to breathe. Despite the blackness of death creeping in on the edges of your vision, you can't help but feel a surge of anger, and bitterness, and resentment underneath your fear. How dare he? How dare he do this?

Another in a long line of people telling you what you should or shouldn't have done, another voice telling you that you aren't good enough, aren't strong enough, aren't smart enough. He's going to kill you, and yet, the fury you feel at the injustice, the rage at the way you've been treated, at the lies and half-truths and manipulation, is overwhelming.

He's going to kill you, and no one will know. You'll die alone just as Yaddle did, and no one will care. Your friends, your family, your entire world will continue on without you as if you never existed, and no one will ever find out what happened.

It's not fair. It's not right.

You've done everything they've asked, and now, as your vision fades, and your heart slows, and the darkness envelopes you, the only thing you can think is that they've failed you.

They've failed you, and it's not fair, it's not right, it's not—

All the emotions you've kept buried inside for so long come rushing back, and before you can stop them, they're coursing through you, hot and bright.

The pressure in the room shifts as if something is being pulled away, and then a deafening crack fills the air. The windows behind you explode, the bed splinters, and the closet door breaks apart. The Sith is thrown backwards, crashing through the wall and disappearing.

You fall to the floor, coughing and gasping for breath. The walls are shaking, and the ceiling is groaning, and you have to scramble to get out of the way as a chunk collapses, bringing down the walls and the floor above. You manage to roll aside, but the floor is breaking, and the entire building is coming down.

You push yourself up and stumble toward the door, grabbing your lightsaber as you go. The hallway is in shambles, and there are chunks of debris and dust everywhere.

There's a ringing in your ears, and your head is throbbing, and you have no idea what's happening. You're surrounded by smoke and dust, and there's the sound of screaming in the distance, and you have to stumble through the rubble and broken glass to find your way out.

And then you're on the street, gasping for air, your eyes streaming with tears. Your eyes scan the destruction, searching for any sign of the Sith, but he's nowhere to be found. You have no idea how he escaped, but you don't have time to wonder.

It's only then that you realize the apartment building is collapsing before you, and you have to jump back as a piece of the roof falls in, narrowly missing your head.

The street is empty, and you're the only one who's outside, but you can hear sirens and the distant sounds of yelling. You need to get away, and you need to do it now before the authorities show up.

You turn and run, pushing yourself to go as fast as you can, ignoring the pain and exhaustion. Your legs are burning, and your chest is tight, but you have to keep going, you have to get away. You can't let anyone find you, can't let anyone know what you've done. There's no telling what they'd do to you, or what the consequences would be for the Order.

You reach the end of the street, and turn left, and then right, and then left again. The buildings blur around you, and the sounds fade, and all you can focus on is the pounding of your heart and the sound of your breath.

You're far away from the Temple, and it takes nearly half an hour to get back. By the time you reach the gates, your lungs are burning and you're gasping for air. You stumble to a stop and lean against the wall, your eyes closed, trying to catch your breath.

You sink to the ground, your head resting against the cold metal as you try desperately to calm down. You're safe, you tell yourself. No one knows. No one saw. Everything's fine.

But it isn't, and you can't make yourself believe the lie.

You look down at your trembling hands, and among the cuts and scrapes, and the blood and grime, you see burns stretching across your palms. They don’t hurt when you clench your fists, not like the stinging pain in your head, the searing of your throat, or the dull ache in your knees.

They're a reminder, a symbol of your failure, a testament to the power that you have, and the power you don't.

A power the Jedi have no interest in understanding.

And yet, they were the ones who trained you, who taught you, who molded you, who gave you your place in the galaxy and all the expectations that came with it.

The expectations, and the responsibilities.

They were the ones who told you that the world wasn't fair, and that sometimes, people died, and that there was nothing you could do about it. But it's not true. There is, and the fact that they didn't want to see it was their own fault, their own arrogance, their own short-sightedness.

And it had cost Yaddle her life, and it had nearly cost you yours.

The anger bubbles up, and your eyes sting, and your throat constricts, and the pain, the rage, the frustration, the injustice, the betrayal, the lies, and the half-truths, and the death, is all too much.

It's too much, and you can't take it anymore. You're so tired, and so hurt, and so alone, and you just want to give up. To stop. To walk away.

Because what good have you done, really? What has any of this gotten you? Nothing but grief and pain and loneliness, and a burden that's too heavy to bear.

You look at the burns on your hands, and a sudden, strange calm comes over you. You feel a sense of clarity and purpose, and a strange, almost eerie, certainty.

You will never let this happen again.

You will never be powerless again.

And no matter what it takes, no matter how many risks you have to take, no matter how much the Council disapproves, no matter how much danger you put yourself in, you will make sure that no one else suffers as you have. Not because of the Sith, and not because of the Jedi.

And, as the sun rises, and the first rays of sunlight peek through the clouds, illuminating the Temple and casting long shadows over the courtyard, you vow that you'll do whatever it takes.

No matter what.

taglist: @baddest-batchers @lolwey @chocolatewastelandtriumph @hobbititties @mere-bear

@thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @aynavaano

@ayyyy-le-simp @mali-777 @schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon

@heavenseed76

#the clone wars #captain rex #clone captain rex #captain rex x reader #rex x reader #obi wan x reader #roy writes #accidentally created a throwaway oc that i love dearly

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strafepanzer · 11 months

Text

chapter four: loose ends

of love & lemons | k.bakugo | m.list

▸ ▸ ▸ warnings: 18+! angst, more talking about feelings, fem and male receiving oral, making out, alcohol consumption

▸ ▸ ▸ wc: 6.7k

▸ ▸ ▸ a/n: ahhhhhh omg i love the last scene of this fic so much, i hope you enjoy it too!!

Overthinking has always come easy, but this is just ridiculous.

Thoughts plague you as you wander with the rest of the group through the forest path towards the beach. Chatter flows effortlessly, yet your mind ticks.

Why had Shouto acted like that with you? Did he overhear you in the dorm with the rest of the girls? Did he not like seeing you in your swimsuit? Did Bakugo say something to him? Either way, there was no reason for him to be acting like that towards you.

Your lonely upbringing led to you making friends with most people you came across, but your even matchup with Shouto all those years ago had you gravitating towards each other from the get-go. Your easy, fiery personality melted his cold, icy heart and it wasn’t long before you were study buddies, training partners.

You graduated high school together, entered university together. It wasn’t only huge milestones like those that you shared and bonded through, but simple things like going to movies with friends, bar-hopping; hell, you even organized a surprise birthday party for him at the beginning of year and invited everyone he’d formed friendships with over the years.

Including Momo, which you were kinda (very) bitter about at the time.

A shiver runs over your skin and you wrap your arms around yourself, glancing over at a very animated Denki as he explains the importance of nu-metal to Shouto.

Shouto with his two-toned hair and heterochromic eyes, with his fire and his ice, with his inability to read the room and lack of tact. You’d opened up to him about being an only child and having parents that worked away constantly, and he told you about his mum, why he hated his dad so much. Even so, he’d had his dad design you a suit that could withstand the even hottest flames, despite the fact that he never went out of his way to talk to him.

You were best friends.

It’s not his fault that you were – until yesterday— in love (was it love, really?) with him, and he didn’t feel the same. Not his fault that you felt you needed to distance yourself from him. What was his fault was the accusation that the guy you’d fallen for wasn’t genuine.

And he hadn’t even said anything about it to your face.

Why didn’t he say anything to you?

What you feel for Bakugo isn’t the same as what you felt for Shouto. For him, there was longing; there were schoolgirl fantasies of picket fences and weddings and two spoons for one dessert. Of a family with two kids and a dog and a cheesy adult life together. With Bakugo, it’s different. You want to touch him, hold him, feel him. You’ve fallen for his eyes, the dangerous way he looks at you, and his hands, how they feel on you, the size of yours in his; the way he speaks to you, calms you, treats you like you’re more than a crush. It’s now and it’s real, and you’re exploring it together.

You hold your cold fingers against your burning cheeks as you scan the group for him.

He’s looking at you from where he’s walking, a little bit ahead of you, and you speed up to catch him.

“You okay?” He mumbles, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his boardshorts. You resist the urge to drape yourself against him, the naked skin of his back and chest, swells and dips of his muscled arms. You hum a yes, but your eyes are on the ground. “Right, seems like you’re fucking swell.” His sarcasm is comforting, you knock him with your hip.

“Thinking about you.” Your words leave your lips in a sigh, and he arches a brow at you. It wasn’t a lie, not really. “You’re nice to me.” You smile, holding your forearms behind your back.

“Yeah?” He’s intrigued by your admission, probably more confused than anything. “Why are you thinking about that right now?”

“I told the girls I liked you, and they were confused. Apparently, you’re mean.” You shrug.

“Huh.” He raises his eyebrows, doesn’t say anything else. Doesn’t ask why. He’s oddly calm.

“You don’t care that I told them?” You frown.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t say anything.” You grumble childishly, he chuckles.

“What the hell do you want me to say?” He asks softly, drapes an arm over your shoulders, pulls you against him.

You’re sure you stop breathing. You look up at him, but he’s looking ahead— or pointedly avoiding your gaze, you’re not sure. It’s strange how natural it feels, and you smile despite yourself, pull your bottom lip between your teeth and take a breath in through your nose.

The air is cool, but you’re warm, heart beating sporadically in your chest as you walk through the woods, tucked under Bakugo’s arm. It’s peaceful, calm—

“Oi,” Eijiro calls, jogging up to fall into step next to you. “Can’t believe you didn’t tell your best friend that you’ve got a girlfriend.” He complains with a whiny sigh. “Unmanly, Kastuki.”

“Want me to tell you when I take a fucking dump too, dumbass?” Bakugo growls, pulls you closer. “It’s none of your fucking business.” He reiterates.

“I’m your best friend.” He complains, sets his eyes on you. They trail down your neck to your chest where your jacket is unzipped “I like your swimsuit.” He winks, and you flinch as Bakugo holds up a palm, sends off an explosion in his direction.

“Bakugo!” You scold, hide against his chest to shield your eyes.

But Eijiro’s ready for it, used to it, it seems. He simply dodges, flashes you a knowing smile. “Be gentle with him, he’s sensitive.” He winks, again.

“Fuck off, fuckface!” Bakugo yells, and with a laugh, Eijiro jogs back to Kaminari and the group of teens watching the interaction. Kyoka flashes you a thumbs up and you roll your eyes with a grin.

After a few moments, you look up at him. “You didn’t correct him when he called me your girlfriend.”

“You already said you’d be mine.” He shrugs. “If you don’t wanna put a damn label on it, we don’t have to.” His red eyes are looking down at you, ready for a response.

“No, I…” You make it out of the trees and onto the sand, see Aizawa in the distance with a huge bonfire ready to light. Bakugo stops walking, holds you close as your classmates walk past, shouts profanities at anyone who stares too long.

Shouto doesn’t look as he passes.

Your stomach knots up, and you snake an arm around Bakugo’s waist, pull yourself closer to him. He’s warm, and it’s comforting, solid and stable.

The sun is setting oranges and pinks and purples and blues in the sky, reflecting like molasses against the serene waves of the water. Higher in the sky, the moon’s already out, stars twinkling as twilight threatens to take over the sunset.

You don’t want to move, just want to stay under his arm, looking at the sky forever.

“D’ya wanna be my girlfriend?” He asks quietly, and when you look at him, he’s blushing, watching the sun set in the distance. You watch him for a minute, revel in the serenity of the moment; then you stretch up on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“If it means you’re gonna be defending my honour, then yes.” You grin. His eyes flash down to your body, the curves of your torso, your bikini top. He bites his lip.

“Among other things.” He says lowly, voice husky as his free hand comes to rest on your shoulder, thumb drawing along your collarbone, nudging the jacket from your shoulder. “Your swimsuit,” His eyes are watching his fingers trace the orange piping of one of the triangles.

You shiver, and you’re sure nipple beads under his touch; your whole face heats up. “H-happy coincidence.” You whisper, the same twisty, fluttering feeling in your stomach returning.

He hums, lips descend to your neck. “Happy indeed.”

“Oi!” Eijiro yells from a distance. “We’re waiting!”

Bakugo huffs a sigh, kisses your neck gently. “To be continued.” He mumbles, nuzzling your ear with his nose, sending another shiver up your spine. He zips up your jacket—all the way to the top—zipper tickling your chin.

“Okay.” You laugh, step away from him and drag your hand down his arm, linking your fingers. A shy smile grows on your face as you lead him over to the group, Aizawa is staring at the pair of you with a raised eyebrow.

“What’s this? A couple? In my camp? I give you all far too much freedom.” He grumbles, and Bakugo squeezes your hand. Kyoka pokes you in the arm, waggles her eyebrows when you look at her. “We’ve been cut short.” He says, sighing. “We’re heading back tomorrow because of reasons out of my control, so I’ve put on a party for you.”

“A party?” Deku gasps, chatter ensues.

“But!” Aizawa calls over the noise. “I have a speech that you have to listen to before I go.” His eyes briefly shift to you and Bakugo, then to some of the other students. “I understand that youth is… exciting.”

“Sensei, please.” Kaminari groans. “Not the birds and the bees.”

He ignores him. “You’re making friends, dating, being young.” He takes a pause, for the drama, probably. “But for you, life after university doesn’t entail boring office jobs or climbing the corporate ladder, does it?” You glance around, everyone looks as confused as you. “You will be heroes. I know about your job offers. Four of you have offers overseas, the rest of you have at least one offer here.”

You see where this is going. The cool wind on the beach picks up, and you pull your hand from Bakugo’s grip to fold your arms.

“You’re bound to get even more offers come graduation.” He continues, takes a deep breath. “It’s going to be exciting and new, and although the bonds you create here will be lasting, they’ll be… interrupted.” He rubs his face, tucks some hair behind his ear. “What I’m trying to drive home is this: don’t let the bonds you have affect your journey. Don’t take an offer with a lesser company because your best friend is close by, or your girlfriend doesn’t want you to leave the country.”

You feel that last one like a slap in the face.

Suddenly the vague tidbit of gossip about Bakugo heading to the U.S after graduation is in the forefront of your brain.

There’s a heavy silence, and your stomach is in your throat. You want to look up at Bakugo, gauge his reaction, but you’re frozen.

“Well, just something to think about, I guess.” His tone lightens, and he picks up some bags. “I got takeout. Cooler is full of drinks, but please—for my sanity—don’t drink too much; All Might’s the one who put the deposit down on the cabin and it wasn’t cheap.” He hands a bag to you, one to Kyoka, two to Iida, and trudges off.

There’s a stunned silence, until Bakugo takes the bag from you, opens it and digs some containers out.

“I’m gonna have this one,” he says, holds it out for you to take. “What do you want?” Kaminari and Eijiro flank Kyoka for food and there’s chatter where Iida’s trying to fairly assign containers.

“Uh, the same?” Your voice is small, and he sends you a pointed glare. You cave, tell him your favourite take out dish, and he fishes it out, hands the bag to Deku.

“Come with me.” He grabs your hand, drags you towards the water’s edge. He sits, and you follow suit.

“Look, if you—”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes, pokes you in the forehead. “I like you, you like me. Don’t fucking listen to him.”

“But—”

“If you don’t wanna do this, we won’t.” He frowns, rests a wrist on a propped-up knee.

“I do!” You argue, pout. He grins, leans over and kisses your lips.

“Then we’re doin’ it.” He takes his container from your hand, replaces it with yours.

You glance down at the food, his hands. “You forgot utensils.” He realises it as you say it, frowns over at you, embarrassed, then bounds up, heads back to the group. You follow him with the food, a little anxious at your classmate’s reactions to the PDA, but mostly everyone is busy, itching to eat something.

Shouto is crouching by the unlit bonfire, left pointer finger pointed at the base as if he wants to light it. He feels your eyes, turns, and you give him a small grin and a wave. He sends you a tight smile and turns away.

“Here,” Bakugo hands you a pair of chopsticks, follows your line of sight.

“He hates me.” You sigh, glance up at him. “Not that you care.”

“I care. I just don’t want the fucker getting between us.” He sends Shouto’s back a glare of his own, and nods towards Deku and Kaminari, who are sitting on a log with Kirishima and Sero; Kyoka’s on a towel in front of them. “Wanna sit with your friends?”

“They’re your friends, too.” You roll your eyes, lead the way over to them.

“Eh, I put up with Eiji for reasons unknown.” He shrugs, but you gasp at the nickname.

“Eiji?”

“Shut up.” He glares, but you just laugh, fall down onto Kyoka’s towel next to her.

“Hey.” You chirp, conversation stops. You get the feeling that if Bakugo wasn’t sitting down on the log next to Kaminari, that you’d be met with a thousand questions.

“Hey?” Kyoka scoffs, eyeing you with a raised brow.

“Yeah, can’t come over here holding hands and expect us not to ask questions.” Eijiro gets up, slides between Kaminari and Bakugo, nudges Bakugo, almost knocks him off the log.

“Fuckin’ shitty—” He grumbles, but you cut him off.

“Ask away.” You shrug, opening your takeaway box and hiding a smile behind it. They jump on you.

“How?” Kirishima.

“Why?” Sero.

“When?” Deku.

“What exactly is it about this guy that you like?” Kirishima asks again, and you feel all eyes on you. All questions directed at you.

“Ah, well,” you did offer for them to ask you. Bakugo’s eating, but you can tell he’s just as interested in your answers as everyone else. “Look at him.” You shrug.

There’s a burst of laughter and Denki and Sero are complaining.

“You can’t do that! You can’t just fall back on looks! He’s looked like that for years.” Denki complains, annoyed.

“Yeah, we wanna know what he did to finally bag you.” Sero grins, and Bakugo bristles.

Finally?

The boys on the log all see your confusion, and they glance at Bakugo, who is busying himself with his food.

“You didn’t tell her?” Eijiro asks, but Bakugo says nothing, shoves a lump of chicken into his mouth and looks out at the water.

“Tell me what?” You’re suspicious now, but it doesn’t outweigh your hunger. You hoe down another mouthful of food.

“He’s liked you since high school, that’s what.” The red head laughs. But it can’t be right, because the whole reason this thing with him started was because—

“I told you I didn’t like her like that.” He says, reading your thoughts as he waves his chopsticks in your direction. “Your imagination is fuckin’ wild.”

Eijiro ignores the interaction between the two of you. “Yeah, remember in our final year’s sport’s festival when you turned into a human torch and your clothes—” Disintegrated.

“Okay, okay, yeah, I don’t want to remember that.” You laugh, whole body heating up in embarrassment.

“You’re making me sound like a fucking pervert, it wasn’t because she was naked that I fucking—you know what? I don’t need—” Bakugo’s getting flustered, and you’re enjoying every second. “Just fucking drop it, or I’ll kill you.”

“Technically, Cementoss cubed her in before anyone could see anything anyway.” Kyoka adds, thumbing in your direction. “But you’re telling me that you knew, and you didn’t tell me?” She glares at Denki then, who jumps in shock at her accusation.

“He said he’d kill me!” He defends dramatically.

Your attention creeps back to your boyfriend—you’ll need to get used to calling him that—and you watch him as he eats, looks out to the ocean, steals a glance at you. You grin at him, and he blushes, rolls his eyes.

The rest of the class find their way to the adjoining logs, towels are laid down for the students that were too slow, as everyone sits down to enjoy the food. When the food’s gone—Iida, Izuku and Bakugo eat thirds—Denki rushes back to the house with Kyoka to get her hero boots—for music, of course—and chatter ensues.

Mostly about you and Bakugo.

Go figure.

“Come for a walk.” Bakugo holds his hand out for you to take, and you grab it. Then you’re slipping off your sandals and walking along the edge of the water, bathed by the last light of the barely there sun.

You chuckle, he glances down at you, brow arched in a silent ‘what?’. “You really like me.” You laugh, poking him in the stomach. “How embarrassing!”

“Wow.” He rolls his eyes, but he can’t hide the ghost of a smirk on his face. “Really mature.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” You ask, watching as the water runs up to cover your feet, sand tickling the tops of them.

“Doesn’t fucking matter.” He grumbles, looks up at the stars.

“Katsuki,” You smile, testing his name on your lips as you turn to him, cover your joined hands with your free one. “Kiss me.” You demand gently, propping up on your tippy toes, and licking your lips.

He doesn’t reply, just covers your mouth with his, presses a hand to the back of your neck. You drop his hands and run your fingers through his hair, hum against his lips as his other hand dips under your jacket and runs up your back.

With a surprising push, you tumble the both of you down onto the sand, laughing. You’re straddling him, running your hands down his torso, lips on his throat as he reaches for the lip of your zipper, runs it all the way down until your jacket’s open.

He breathes your name and you stop, push back to meet his eyes. “I, uh,” he starts, staring up at you; he pushes some hair from your face and runs his thumb along your wet bottom lip. “I’m not just… second best, right?” He says it so softly, you’re not sure it’d even come out of his mouth.

“No.” You frown. What? “No way.” You’re torn between being sad for him—it’d take a lot for him to ask—and being offended that he felt you’re ingenuine.

“Fuck, it’s just,” he breathes, drags his hand down his face. “I’m not used to this, and I’ve wanted you for a really fucking long time, so…”

“It’s okay,” You mumble, lean down to kiss his forehead. “I’m here.” His nose. “Touch me.” His lips. You look into his eyes for a brief moment, then his kissing you hungrily, hands in your hair, leaving you breathless.

“Okay you two, that’s enough!” Mina yells. You take your lips from Bakugo’s neck and sit up, send her a glare that she probably can’t see. The sun’s completely gone now, moon high up in the sky surrounded by the kind of stars you can only see out by the countryside. It’s nothing like being in the deep smog of the city.

Bakugo gropes your butt over your swimmers. “I’m not done.” He grumbles lowly. You laugh down at him, pinch one of his pretty pink nipples. “Oi—”

“Come on!” She yells, closer. “Geez, I can’t believe I’ve gotta find out about you two from Denki. Denki! I thought we were friends.” She rants, closer. You hop off of Bakugo, dust the sand from your knees and calves.

“I’m sorry, it’s kind of a sudden thing—”

“Why the fuck are you screaming at us to come back?” Bakugo snaps, turning his back to Mina, adjusting his… oh. You laugh and link arms with her, hold your hand out for him to take when he’s ready—which he does. It’s nice to hold his hand. Good to just be touching him.

“We’re about to light the bonfire, and y’know, who better to do it?” Mina sighs, leaning her head against your shoulder.

“Uh, Shouto?” You snort.

“Don’t know where he is. He took off with Momo and they’re not on the beach; Tsu said not to bother with looking for them.” She shrugs as the three of you trudge up the beach, through the soft, dry sand.

“Couldn’t have pretended you couldn’t see us, though? Fucking figures.” Bakugo mumbles, and you squeeze his hand, send him a smile over your shoulder.

“Shut up, stop being such an asshole.” Mina grumbles. A few of your friends cheer upon your arrival.

“Fire time!” Denki announces, bouncing up from the log he was perched by Kyoka on. “Okay, Fire Princess, light us up!” He does a jiggy dance, points dramatically at the fire. Mina jogs over to sit next to Toru, and Bakugo rests his chin on your shoulder.

“C’mon, Fire Princess, we’ve got things to do.” He whispers in your ear.

“Are you ‘things’?” You laugh, raise an eyebrow at him.

“Maybe.” He shrugs. You laugh and shake him off, move closer to the huge mound of logs and sticks and kindling, crouch at the base. Generally, you’d use your hands to shoot the fire, but you’d been training on something you called ‘dragon technique’ lately, and—if it didn’t get out of control—it’d look really fucking sick.

You pick a spot right at the centre of the base, between the logs and sticks, and—like blowing out a candle—you purse your lips and blow, the flames hitting their target with ease. Your friends cheer, and you shoot a look back at Bakugo as you tuck some hair behind your ear.

Like any normal fire without petrol, it takes a while to grow in size, but it doesn’t matter. Bakugo lays his towel out and you drape yourself between his legs, both of you watching the fire grow —and Ochako and Mina dancing in front of it—as Kyoka plays some pop/rock song that she’s been ‘totally obsessed with lately’ from her boots.

“Here!” Kirishima grins, throws you both a drink. You sit up to catch yours, the other one whooshes past your head and into Bakugo’s hand.

It’s beer.

“I don’t know if you drinking is the best idea.” Bakugo says lowly in your ear, reaching over to pluck it out of your hands. “Remember last time?”

“Last time?” Eijiro butts in, looking at you quizzically.

“Ah, don’t worry about it, boring story.” You laugh, toss a look over your shoulder at Bakugo, who’s drinking your beer, Adam’s apple bobbing.

You glance around and find Momo sitting with Mineta and Tokoyami, beers in their hands, no Shouto in sight, which is strange until,

“Can I have a word?” You look up and see Shouto, standing over you and Bakugo. God, he’s so fucking quiet, like a ninja. You feel Bakugo tense behind you, so you pinch his thigh.

“Yeah, of course.” You smile, moving to get up. Before you’re at full height, Bakugo grabs your jacket, pulls you down by the collar to plant a kiss on your lips.

He doesn’t say anything, but you can see the pleading look in his eyes; it shoots into your heart like an arrow.

“Be right back.” You smile, trying to reassure him, then you ruffle his hair and follow after Shouto, who must have walked off the moment Bakugo kissed you.

It’s quiet, besides the music thumping in the background. Serene.

“I’m sorry.” He says quietly, looking up at the moon. You follow his line of sight, take in the glowing orb, shadowy craters scattering its surface. When you don’t say anything, he elaborates. “I didn’t think of your feelings, or Momo’s. I can…” He takes a breath, huffs a sigh. “I can tell you like him, and he can’t keep his hands off of you, so—”

“Alright, alright, that’s enough, you’re making it weird.” You laugh, the weight of the past few days falling off of your shoulders. It's embarrassing how a few simple words could completely diffuse the situation.

“Bakugo seems to really like you, but if he ever hurts you, I’ll kill him.” He says seriously, stopping in his tracks, looking down at you.

“I think I’ll be okay, Shouto.” You smile. You hold out your arms for a hug, but when he steps closer, there’s a loud whistle.

You both look to see Bakugo watching, arms crossed over his chest. “TWO FUCKING FEET APART!” He yells, Kirishima chuckles into a fist next to him.

Shouto retracts his step, shakes his head with a smile. “As long as you don’t hate me.” He rests a hand on top of your head, smiles and takes it off.

“I don’t think I could, to be honest.” You beam up at him. And it’s the truth, he’d always hold a special place in your heart: the first love, the best friend. “C’mon, you need to go thank your girlfriend for making you a better person.” You nod towards the group, see Bakugo sit back on the towel in the distance.

“True, true.” He runs a hand through his hair, turns and begins walking you back to the group. “So, you’ll keep training with me?” He asks, almost a mumble.

“I… I hadn’t thought about stopping that, Shouto.” You say, brows furrowed. You usually spend holidays with the Todoroki’s, with your parents generally gone during them. Gone almost always.

Last year, you even spent Christmas with them.

Endeavour even called you the morning of your birthday.

“Good. Endeavour would be… disappointed.” He says slowly, flicking his hair out of his eyes with a shake of his head.

You snort. “You mean, I wouldn’t be the buffer?” Endeavour treats you well to impress his youngest son; you know this, he knows this, his siblings know this. You elbow him. “I’m not stupid, Shouto.”

“Sorry.” He chuckles nervously, mildly ashamed. “I mean… thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Okay.” He smiles as you walk back up to Bakugo and Kirishima. “Have a good night.” He calls, gives you one last smile, then scans the group for Momo, heads to her.

The sand crushes beneath your feet, gets between your toes. “Hey,” you call with a smile. Bakugo downs the rest of his beer and smashes the can, tosses it beside another one—also reduced to a misshapen tin ball. “Whoa, slow down, sexy; the night is still young.” You laugh, plant yourself in his lap.

“What, you’re not running off into the sunset with the man of your dreams?” He asks gruffly, signature scowl on his face.

You know he means Shouto, but you wrap your arms around Bakugo’s neck regardless. “No, I’m sitting on his lap while he makes listless accusations.”

“Ooh, big words.” His eyebrows disappear into his hairline, hands grab at your naked thighs.

“Big words for a big girl.” You grin back proudly, leaning up to press your lips to his. “Your girl, Mr I-Need-Constant-Validation.” Your hands sprawl over his chest, feeling the hard muscle, as his face flushes pink and he pouts.

“That’s not true.” He scoffs. You laugh and kiss him again, and Kirishima clears his throat. You pull away, embarrassed, and look over to him.

“Just want you to know that I’m still here.” He chuckles bashfully, flashing his razor-sharp teeth at you in a grin.

“Sorry—”

“Maybe you should leave then, idiot.” Bakugo snaps at him, eyes still on you.

“Mean.” You pout. “He’s your bestie.”

“I don’t see yours hovering around.” He says against your lips.

“I’m still here.” He groans, and you kiss again. “Alright, consider me gone.” He shakes his head with a slight laugh, springs up from his spot on the sand, mutters something as he walks away.

Bakugo actually laughs, and it’s so smooth and reassuring that you lean in for another kiss, drape yourself all over him. “I think… we need to ditch this party.” He whispers.

You agree, but deep down you know bonding with the group is important, especially now with graduation looming overhead. “The party just started! And Aizawa got us beer.”

“And vodka.” Kyoka announces her arrival, Bakugo groans. “Hey to you too, asshat.” She smiles, joins you on the towel, hands you a can.

“Thanks.” You smile.

Bakugo lifts you from his lap, places you easily next to Kyoka. “I’ll go get my own drink.” He says, sends your friend a glare, and trudges off.

“I know Denki’s an idiot, but that guy? Hard work.” She laughs, takes a sip. “Probably cranky because he’s up past his bedtime.”

You laugh, watch him as he approaches Momo and Shouto. “Ah, he puts up a front. Once you get past his hard exterior, he’s a softie.” You smile, turning back to her. She snorts. “He is!”

“Oh god, you really like him. Like, a lot.” She accuses, whacking your shoulder.

Yeah. Yeah, you do. It’s kinda scary, and Aizawa’s words ring back through your mind.

“Do you and Denki know what you’re doing after UA?” You ask, changing the subject, curious about what they’d discussed. As a couple.

“Hm? Ah, every time I bring it up, he gets upset.” She sighs, shakes her head.

“Really?” You take your first sip of the vodka, cringe at the sweetness as it hits your tongue.

“Mm.” She nods, lays down and rests her head on your lap. “We had another argument about it when we went back to camp to get my boots.” You smile sympathetically down at her, dust her bangs from her forehead with your fingers. “I actually have a lot of offers, mostly spy work, but still. He… he’s upset about it. Doesn’t want me to go too far.”

“That’s sweet, isn’t it? You sound annoyed.”

“I am annoyed.” She frowns, tries to drink from her can laying down, but it dribbles from the side of her mouth, down your thigh, and you squeak, jolt at the cold.

“Shit!” You yelp, and she chokes on her drink as she laughs, and more splutters over your lap and your jacket as she struggles to sit up. “Kyoka!”

“I’m sorry!” She laughs, wipes tears from her eyes and vodka from her mouth.

“Get up, we’re going in the water.” You say, standing up, wiping at the rivulets running down your legs.

“Oh, no I’m not. It’s cold as fuck.” She frowns, swats your hands away as you try to grab her.

“Yes, you are! Come on, we’re at a beach!” You argue, stand to unzip your jacket, shrug it from your shoulders and let it fall to the towel. “Get up, Kyoka.” You’re pleading, now, hell-bent on getting in the water.

A low whistle travels through the air, just loud enough for you to hear over the music. You look around and see Mineta sitting on a towel not too far away, staring at you. He winks at you, and you bristle, your eye twitches in annoyance. But before you can chew him out, the menacing presence of your new boyfriend fills the air, and his hands are splaying over your stomach, his red eyes glaring at your pervy classmate.

“You like your eyes in their sockets, asshat?” He asks, just loud enough for Mineta to hear. He pales, swallows, and nods. “Then keep them off my girlfriend.”

It’s in that moment that you decide Bakugo’s scarier when he doesn’t swear. Its menacing, bone-chilling.

He reaches down for your jacket, kisses your lips on his way back up to standing. “Let’s get outta here.”

“But—”

“Gotta clean you up, don’t we?” He asks huskily, and there’s a glint in his eye that makes your heart stammer, sends your brain into overdrive.

“Y-yeah, we do.”

“Okay, goodbye, have fun getting freaky.” Kyoka says quickly, and you poke your tongue at her, before you’re walking away under his arm, heading towards the forest.

“Hot spring?” You ask, glancing up at him.

“If we make it there.” He grins.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You narrow your eyes playfully, and he shrugs innocently as he takes you away from the forest path. “Bakugo,” you laugh. “Where are you taking me?”

“Just here, against this tree.” He grunts, swinging you around until you’re—laughing— backed up against the trunk of a thick redwood.

“What’s that even mean—” you ask, but he drops to his knees in front of you, and your whole body goes hot. The moon shines brightly through the canopy of the trees, bathing Bakugo in a kind of angelic glow, so incredibly unlike him. How ironic. He licks his lips as his hands reach for the backs of your knees, edges his mouth closer to your sticky thighs. “N—Baku—”

“Shh,” he coos softly, dark eyes staring up at you as you dig your fingers into the bark of the tree, suck your bottom lip between your teeth. His lips ghost over one of your knees and he trails slow—painfully slow—wet kisses up your thigh, licking over the sticky residue left over from Kyoka’s drink.

You manage to keep it relatively together, until a hand goes to your hip, and he licks up so close to the apex of your thighs that you moan, and he growls, hands gripping you tighter.

“Gonna make you feel good.” He promises, voice rough and gravelly as he looks up at you, nose running up your clothed slit.

“Bakugo!” You jolt, but he doesn’t stop, replaces his nose with his lips, tongue. He pulls your hips closer to his face, tongue running along the nylon, drenching it, making it stick to your lips. Then a hand is gone from your hip, and your swimmers are pulled to the side, and his lips kiss your pussy, tongue licks a stripe up your folds, and your fingernails are digging into his scalp as your head thunks against the tree, eyes screwed shut because, “Fuck,” you breathe, gasping.

You can hear him growl, feel the vibration against your clit as he wraps his lips around the bud and sucks.

You barely muffle your cry, as pleasure runs hot through your bones and you go spineless, collapsing into his arms. He doesn’t give you much time to recover, kissing you hard, slippery tongue between your teeth coaxing more moans from you, revving you back up again.

His fingers rub you gently between your thighs, toying with the wetness. “I think we made a bigger mess.”

“Ugh, shut up.” You groan, embarrassed, and he licks his lips before capturing yours again in another hungry kiss. You’re pulled onto his lap, straddling him, and rubs you more surely, teases you with a finger. “Do it,” you urge him, breathless yet again, and he wastes no time

“So wet, baby.” He moans, jerking his hips up with his finger’s thrusts, kissing your cheek, then your neck. Your head falls back, the now familiar pleasure building as he adds another finger.

“Let me… I’ll do you, too.” You breathe heavily, grabbing at the strings of his board shorts, ripping the Velcro open.

When you finally have him in your hands, he groans against your mouth, and you pull away from him to spit on your hand, before giving him a few wet pumps and kissing him again.

“You…” you breathe, and he looks at you, slows his fingers. “Do you want to pu—”

“No,” he chuckles, uses his free hand to push the hair from your face. “Not here.”

“Are you sure, because I—” he kisses you quiet, pushes a third finger into you, and your head falls to his shoulder, whole body on edge again. “Ahh, f—feels good, Katsuki.” You breathe, and he bucks up into your hand, reminding you to do him, too.

“Say it again.” He growls, licks a stripe up your neck, nips at your ear. “My name,” he breathes.

You moan, his fingers hitting that spot again, and again, and again—“Katsu—” and you’re coming again, back arching, whole body going tight, stars spinning behind your eyes as his face nuzzles your chest.

He pulls himself out of your hand, ready to finish himself off, but you’re hungry for him already, pushing him back, taking him between your lips for the second time that day.

He’s groaning—a salty, musky mess—and it makes your head spin, gives you a power you never even dreamed you’d have. You look up at him through your lashes, see his dark eyes drinking you in. He reaches down and pulls your bikini up—breasts springing free—and gropes at your tits, closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against the grass in bliss.

You grip a thigh, hold him down with a splayed hand over his chiselled abs, and take him deep once, twice, three times, before coming up for air, eyes watering. He grunts, pushes back up into you, and you do it again. His hands are in your hair, holding you down as he calls your name, and he cums hot and heavy down your throat, cock pulsating between your lips.

You swallow all of him.

“Ah, s-sorry,” he breathes heavily, sitting up to check on you, pushing your hair from your face, and holding you like you’re made of glass.

“Mmm… Hold me,” you smile blissfully, fall against his chest as he chuckles, kisses your hair. “This’d be better in a bed. We could just… fall asleep.” He hums in response, traces patterns on your back, tickling the skin.

“Do you wanna go back to the party?”

“Won't that be… suspicious?” You smile up at him. He kisses you, holds your face with both of his hands, rubs his thumbs along your cheeks.

He’s stirring it back up within you, conditioning you to want him after every deep, sensual kiss. He pulls back, breathless.

“You think I give a fuck what those extras think?” He says, tone betraying the almost grin on his face. You roll our eyes, push away from him and stand up.

“Come on, then.” You whine, fix your bikini top, then the bottoms.

“Babe, you look so good; come back down here.” He bites his bottom lip, and it’s so sexy that your eyes go wide, face blazing as you take him in: half-naked, cock out, sweaty, flushed.

“If I come back down there to you, I’m making you fuck me, so let’s just go.” You cross your arms, pick up your jacket, and turn, heading towards the fire.

“Oi, I said come back here!” He calls, fixing himself up, and following. You break into a run, and you’re laughing as he chases you, dodging trees until you’re on the beach. He’s hot on your heels, so you drop your jacket, make a sprint for the water. “Come here!” He’s yelling, but you’re still laughing as you enter the freezing water, fall against a wave.

When you come back up, he grabs you, pulls you onto his lap and kisses you gently. His hair is wet, flat against his head, and he shakes it out, attempts to fluff it back up.

“Gotcha.” He grins, and you kiss him again, bathed by moonlight, your fingernails in his hair, his hands on your back.

#bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #leese writes #ol&l fic

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hazbininlove · 7 months

Text

Hopelessly Devoted - Chapter 3

-About 5.5k. No real warnings in this chapter!

Charlie is more or less freaking out at the moment. She received news a week ago that Esther would be coming back down to assist with the Hotel and would be bringing a guest. Now today is the day of that visit and she feels like nothing is ready. Everything in the hotel feels out of place and she doesn’t know how to fix it.

“Charlie, you need to relax,” Vaggie says, coming up to her and placing her hands on Charlie’s shoulders. Charlie grabs at her own hair in frustration.

“I can’t, Vaggie! Esther didn’t come into the hotel last time and I just want it to be perfect! And she said she’s bringing someone else! What if it’s Sera? What if it’s Michael?! WHAT IF IT'S GOD?!”

“Charlie! She’s not bringing God to our hotel! And I doubt she’d bring Michael here! He’s probably the last person who’d ever willingly down here.”

Charlie groans and slumps into Vaggies hold. “What am I gonna dooooooo-“

“Do about what?”

“Ah!” Charlie jumps out of Vaggie’s hold and looks to the entrance where her dad is standing. His eyebrows furrow in concern.

“You doing alright, apple pie? You look uhhh kinda tired,” he inquires.

“Dad! Hi! I could really use your help right now! Esther is coming down any minute now and he’s bringing someone and-“

“Esther!” Her dad yells, his hands now gripping her arms. “She’s coming here?! Today?! Now?!!”

“Ooooh I see I forgot to mention that,” Charlie replies sheepishly, laughing awkwardly to herself. “I knew I was forgetting something.”

Lucifer’s hands let go of her to grip his own hair, knowing his hat off his head. He starts pacing as he freaks out.

“Oh hell she’s coming here. I haven’t prepared anything. Nothing has felt right! I haven’t even had the time to fix up my wings. My WINGS!”

He yells, and his wings pop out behind him in the largest form Charlie’s seen from him in months, knocking over a painting as he does so. “Satan’s smelly asscrack! They’re a mess! How the fuck am I supposed to impress her with this disaster?!”

“I don’t think Uncle Satan would appreciate that comment,” Charlie mumbles, trying to defuse the situation.

“He’s an ugly sweaty fuck! He can handle a few insults in his name!” Lucifer yells back. He pauses, groans, and rubs at his temples. “Sorry, apple pie. I’m just nervous and didn’t mean to yell. Satan definitely deserves it though.”

“Aren’t the two of you supposed to be twins or something?” Vaggie asks, approaching the two of them. “Isn’t that why people confuse you two so often?”

“Aha, no, you know all those pictures of a red dude with horns that people think is me? That’s Satan. He’s just such a damn menace that of course when shit goes sideways, they think he’s the actual devil which then confuses people and- you know what? It’s a whole thing. The point is, he smells like shit half the time I see him and I think he does it on purpose.”

“Dad, I think we’re off track again. Why are you freaking out about your wings? And can you please make them smaller before you break anything else?” Charlie asks.

Sheepishly, Lucifer does just that, letting them get smaller until they’re at a more appropriate size indoors. He snaps his fingers to fix the things he knocked over and continues pacing as he fiddles with his hands.

How does one explain to their daughter that he has an inside joke of sorts with his soulmate and now as part of proving himself to her again, he has to behave like a duck during mating season and impress her.

Shit, had Esther even meant that literally? Knowing her humor, she probably did, though she definitely expected more than just that as an apology. He wasn’t entirely sure how to apologize either. He’d told her everything the week before. Of course, just because he explained and apologized doesn’t mean she had to forgive him. And he knew one apology wouldn’t make up for several millennia apart, due to his own actions, but he really didn’t know what else to say or even do to make it up to her.

It just stressed him out more that he couldn’t think of anything to do about this. He couldn’t lose her again, not when he finally had a second chance. He’d been struggling to sleep for the past week just thinking about her. Her beautiful dark blue eyes, her wavy black hair with the streaks of white, the rich blue on the underside of her beautiful wings. Lucifer feels his heart beat a little faster at the thought of her bright smile aimed at him, eyes crinkled at the end in pure joy and those cheek marks on the corner of her mouth so high they almost look like they’re reaching her eyes.

“It’s nothing Char,” he replies to his daughter. “I just want to look my best when she arrives. And you said she’s bringing a gues- Who the fuck is she bringing?”

“We don’t know, sir. We can only assume it’s another angel,” Vaggie answers for her, likely stopping Charlie from panicking again.

“Oh fuck me! It’s probably Michael! It’s definitely Michael,” he replies, hands in his hair again as his eyes start to turn red and his voice sounds almost layered. “She talked about him so much last time, it probably is him. That fucker probably did mess with her head. She said she doesn’t love him but someone with Stockholm Syndrome probably wouldn’t admit they have it!”

“Okay!” Charlie claps loudly. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here! Vaggie’s right. We need to relax and think things through. I doubt she’d bring him of all people here. So let’s just focus on one thing at a time! Like cleaning up the lobby!”

Lucifer looks at his daughter with a blank stare and snaps his finger. A burst of gold sparks from his hand and sweeps around the room, cleaning up any dust and straightening out paintings and chairs alike as it goes.

“Can I go back to panicking now?”

“No!” Charlie yells, grabbing her dad and leading him towards the elevators. “We’re going to go get ourselves looking presentable!”

Vaggie watches in amusement but also concern as her girlfriend drags her whining father out of the lobby. Looking around the room, he definitely did a good job of cleaning up and saved them a good amount of time. Especially after the disaster left in the wake of Charlie’s own panicking.

She’s thankful that her and Charlie’s relationship isn’t as complicated as Lucifer’s and Esther’s. She feels bad for them. Knowing what she knows now, it all seemed like a “right person, wrong time” situation. And who knows how long those two even actually spent together before Lucifer had fallen.

The books she read aren’t exactly clear on how long between Lucifer’s creation and the creation of Eden took place. Lucifer is older than Earth, that much she knows, but how much older remains a mystery to everyone except the man himself, and she isn’t sure if asking is appropriate.

And to an immortal being who’s been around for as long as he has and still looks like a relatively young adult, how does time pass for him? Sinners remain the age they died at, but was Lucifer like Adam, Lilith, and Eve? Was he also created as an adult? Were the older angels created as children and then raised into adulthood before the aging stopped? Looking at a picture of Lucifer and Charlie, Lucifer looks the same age now as he did then. Now that Charlie’s older, he looks like he could’ve been a teenage father.

Had Lucifer and Esther had thousands of years between their creation and the Earth’s creation to spend together, or had it just been a few short years together before their forced separation? It doesn’t really matter, at the end of the day. They seemed to be the first and most functional of three pairs of soulmates ever made.

Like Esther had said the day before. The first attempt to recreate them ended in disaster with Adam and Lilith, Eve… No one in heaven had seen Eve in thousands of years and Adam never cared to talk about her besides when insulting her. The only pair that seemed to want to be together was Lucifer and Esther, and even they weren’t actually together because of the miscommunication between them that caused eons of loneliness for the two of them.

No wonder God never made more soulmates. The more Vaggie thinks about it, the more her head starts to hurt. She walks around the lobby instead, making sure nothing was out of place even with Lucifer’s magic.

A knock on the door alerted her to a guest. Vaggie paused, looking over to the bar where Husk had paused in his own polishing, and stared back at her.

“Try to keep the drinks to a minimum, please,” she says to him. He rolls his eyes but continues wiping the bar as she walks towards the door.

Before she can reach the door, a swirl of shadows lifts from the ground, and she curses to herself as she sees Alastor appear from it. She’s practically sprinting and he shifts his eyes to look at her, smile stretched impossibly wide, as he grips the door and pulls it open.

”Welcome, dear guests, to the Hazbin Hotel,” he says, greeting the two at the door.

There is Esther, smiling softly in greeting, with a taller man beside her. His skin is ghostly white like Lucifer’s, but his hair is black like Esther’s. It’s a bit longer than Lucifer’s, falling more into his face and curling around his neck. His suit is impeccable, white pants, black coat, and gray waistcoat. Along the shoulders of his coat are black pads lined in silver with intricate designs. His eyes are dark gray, bordering on blue closer to the pupils.

He looks like royalty, carries himself with an air of importance, but his eyes look soft and his expression is easygoing. It takes Vaggie a few moments before his appearance clicks in her mind.

This is Azrael, the Archangel of Death, the Virtue of Patience.

He’s rarely seen in any of the spheres of Heaven. He, like Raphael, spends most of his time on Earth. When he does return to Heaven, he passes through the spheres and says his hellos, but typically spends most of his time on Primum Mobile with the other higher ranking angels that aren’t ruling over a sphere like Sera.

If he spends any time in another sphere, it’s likely the first sphere where the majority of the winners reside, or in the third sphere where he was created, Venus, just as Lucifer and Esther were.

Well, Azrael is certainly better than Michael in terms of who would stress Lucifer out the most, but Vaggie isn’t holding out much hope. Esther had mentioned that Azrael was likely to visit, but she hadn’t expected it to be so soon. Especially since it’s only her second visit.

At least she could say that of all the virtues or archangels to bring, the Virtue of Patience would probably be the best to deal with all the chaos the people of this hotel were capable of causing.

Both of their wings were tucked away and out of sight, which was probably for the best both to get them through the door and so they wouldn’t take up too much space. They likely planned on spending a good amount of time there, if that was the case.

Vaggie bows to both of them, nervous at the sight of one of Heaven’s strongest angels. Azrael doesn’t fight, might as well be a pacifist, but that doesn’t mean he’s incapable. The Seven Capital Virtues all have more power than most beings besides God himself, and even they aren’t the top of the hierarchy the way that the Seven Deadly Sins were down here in Hell.

“Welcome! It’s an honor for you to visit us,” Vaggie says. She may not live in Heaven anymore, or agree with everything they do, but even she knows the Virtues and the Archangel of Death deserved her utmost respect. Esther visiting had been a shock, especially since Vaggie had never seen her so she didn’t know her importance.

“Please, no need for all of that,” Azrael replies. His voice is light, almost airy, but strong. It’s so different from Lucifer’s rich and smooth tone of voice. Lucifer, despite his awkwardness around his daughter, talks in a voice that is loud and boisterous when he wants it to be, like he’s demanding attention. Azrael’s voice sounds more like a soft breeze, calming and comforting.

She supposes when it’s your job to console the souls of the dead and guide them towards their final resting place, a comforting tone is probably for the best.

“I assume you know who I am?” Azrael asks, taking a step into the hotel after gesturing for Esther to enter first. Vaggie nods, not sure what else to say. “I don’t get to say this often, but it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He holds his hand out for her to shake, and she takes it. His grip is just as soft as his voice. “It’s nice to meet you too, sir.”

“None of that. Azrael is just fine,” he replies.

Behind them, Esther is greeting Husk and Alastor. Vaggie wants to warn Esther that staying away from Alastor is for the best, especially considering Lucifer’s hatred for the other man, but there’s really no nice way to say that.

Lucifer’s not going to be happy when he sees both a brother of his that he hasn’t seen in eons suddenly here, and Alastor around the love of his life.

Today’s gonna be a shitty day in hell, that’s for sure.

“Well, where is our lovely host? I’ve been dying to meet my little niece,” Azrael says, looking around the lobby. Esther chuckles behind him.

“The puns will never stop with you, will they?” Esther asks him, a knowing smirk on her lips.

“Not until my last breath,” he teases back. It’s then that Vaggie realizes he’s been making references to death. It’s not something she expected, but knowing how Lucifer acts, she can’t say she’s entirely surprised that the weird jokes run in the family. “Now, my niece, please?”

“Right, yeah, she actually just went upstairs with her dad a few minutes ago, so they should be down shortly,” Vaggie’s replies. She wants to offer to go get them, but the idea of leaving them alone with Alastor sounds like a bad idea. Especially knowing that Husk is likely too drunk even this early in the afternoon to do anything about it.

Something in Azrael’s eyes flash at the mention of Lucifer, and his smile tightens just a bit. It’s not a good sign in Vaggie’s eyes.

“Samael is here as well? How splendid, I’ve missed the little one,” Azrael says back. Vaggie sees Esther roll her eyes at the nickname. It appears Lucifer’s height is a running joke. “My workload increased drastically when my fellow angel of death fell. Of course there are others but Samael was always a joy to work with.”

“You know he prefers to be called Lucifer,” Esther scolds him. Azrael pats her gently. They don’t look alike, besides the black hair, but they act almost like siblings.

The way Lucifer and Esther were created, to be practically married, and the fact that they’ve known each other for thousands of years, Vaggie wouldn’t be surprised if the other Virtues did see her as a sister.

Azrael hums but stays silent on the subject. Instead he chooses to move around the lobby. He goes to the bar to greet a stressed looking Husk as Esther approaches her.

“It’s Vaggie, correct?” She asks and Vaggie nods. “It’s nice to see you again, dear. I apologize for not mentioning Azrael’s visit. He likes surprises and once he has it in his head, there’s no stopping him.”

“Yes ma’am. It was definitely surprising, but I think that’s because I tend to forget that Charlie’s dad was also a high ranking angel.”

“Technically, he still is,” Esther replies. She smiles down at Vaggie, her eyes warm despite the dark cool blue color they have. “He may not be allowed in Heaven anymore, nor is he a Virtue as he once was, but he’s still one of the oldest and strongest of the angels.”

“How interesting,” Alastor says, approaching them. “One would think we’d see more of this strength you speak of.”

“If that was the case, you’d be wiped from existence with the way you like pissing him off, asshole,” Vaggie replies to him. She pauses for a moment to look back at Esther and apologize for her language, but the angel doesn’t look upset at all.

“Well, I suppose some good came from our king’s reclusive nature then!”

Alastor’s eye twitches but he says nothing more, thankfully.

Even after the battle against Adam, Vaggie knows that was nowhere near Lucifer’s full strength. The man was once a Virtue, an Archangel who answered directly to God, and a Seraphim, the highest rank of the angels. He wasn’t called God’s favorite angel for nothing. With all the power Lucifer was given upon his creation, being called the favorite almost felt like an understatement.

Not that there weren’t angels stronger than Lucifer, but Vaggie read about the fall. Lucifer wasn’t just tossed out of the gates like Charlie’s story makes it seem. Lucifer fought, and he fought hard. Michael may have led the charge against him, and been the one to throw him and Lilith towards hell, but it took several angels, mostly Seraphim, to finally weaken him.

Lucifer truly was a terrifying being, even before becoming the first sin.

“I hope you know you have nothing to worry about, dear,” Esther says to her as Alastor walks away. “If he’s anything like he was before, he’s never cared much for power.”

That much is obvious. Alastor didn’t call him a recluse for nothing. Lucifer has made it clear many times that he doesn’t care for sinners or want to truly rule them. The only times he shows off his powers is when he wants to show off for Charlie or do something for her.

“Now, tell me about the hotel, dear. Any new arrivals?”

Vaggie sits with her on the couches as she discusses the details. She’d prefer Charlie to be here, but she won’t keep her waiting either.

They haven’t had any new guests. Half the sinners were scared another attack would come from Heaven and wanted to avoid it. A few cannibals wanted to but really only for the promise of more angels attacking so they could eat more angels. Rosie had taken those few back quickly enough.

Vaggie wasn’t going to mention the cannibals to her, though she did mention their dilemma.

“I see, so an announcement should be made then, to confirm the end of these exterminations,” Esther decides.

That would require either Vox or Katie Killjoy, neither of which Vaggie wanted to deal with or felt Esther should have to.

Before she can respond, the elevator dings. Before she turns, she notices Azrael’s attention now off of Husk and turning towards the elevator as well.

“Okay, we’re ready to get this plan done!” Charlie says as she exits the elevators! Lucifer is behind her, messing with his clothes and patting himself down to make sure nothing is out of place.

“Uhh, Charlie?” Vaggie says, loudly enough for Charlie to hear her. Charlie looks to her, catches sight of Esther, and her eyes go wide.

“Oh shit she’s here already!”

“Where?!” Lucifer calls from behind her, his wings once more popping up. He doesn’t make them as large as last time, but they definitely look a bit better compared to minutes before. They puff up behind him, shaking a bit like a rattle snake’s tail, though clearly more from anxiety than warning.

Vaggie’s eyes shift to look at Esther, who’s covered her mouth a bit and looked away from the display, though based on the way her cheeks are raised, she’s trying to hide a smile.

“Well isn’t this a marvelous display?” a soft voice says. Vaggie turns to her other side where Azrael is standing now beside her, a smile on his face just as before. “Wonderful display of wings, brother.”

“A-Azrael? What are you doing here?” Lucifer shuffles closer to the door of the now closed elevator.

“I do believe Esther mentioned my desire for a visit. I simply couldn’t pass up the chance when she mentioned her plans to return so soon. It’s not often I have a moment to myself after all. But enough of that, this must be my niece, Charlotte, correct?”

“Yes! Hi! I’m Charlie! Um- Uncle?”

Azrael chuckles at Charlie’s stammering and approaches them. It’s at that moment that Lucifer moves forward, eyes narrowed and wings spread high and wide to cover Charlie behind him.

“What are you doing here?” Lucifer repeats, his tone much harsher now compared to his panicked tone before. Esther moves forward now, stepping between Lucifer and Azrael calmly.

She steps closer to Lucifer and grabs one of his hands. “Listen to him first, please. Don’t be rash.”

“Don’t be- You want me to believe one of my brothers just suddenly wants to visit?! Out of the goodness of his heart?!”

“Lucifer-“

“It’s fine, dear,” Azrael says, cutting Esther off. Lucifer’s eyes narrow further at the term of endearment. “He has every right to be suspicious. Our siblings, myself included, have let this go on for far too long right under our noses. And after the last time he saw us, it’s only fair he should be worried.”

Lucifer looks at Azrael with suspicion as he continues.

“Worry not, dear brother, I have no ill will. My intentions were solely to express my apologies for not being aware of this massacre of souls.”

Lucifer’s wings lower a bit when Esther’s hand tightens on his own. He looks at her briefly before looking back at Azrael and rolling his shoulders, allowing his wings to fully disappear again. Esther sighs in relief in front of him and gives him a comforting smile before moving completely out of the way, giving them the full view of Azrael.

It’s Charlie who looks between the three of them before coughing and offering them a seat. Both men nod and Charlie guides them back to the couches where Vaggie is still sitting.

“Thank you, my dear. It truly is wonderful to finally be able to meet you. I wish it were under better circumstances but I suppose there’s no better time than the present,” Azrael says to Charlie. She lights up a bit as she sits beside Vaggie, and motions for him to sit across from her. Esther sits beside him on the couch, and Lucifer looks conflicted before taking a seat beside his daughter, his scowl clear and directed at his brother. “I’m sure you’re aware, but I am Azrael, one of your father’s older brothers. You may call me uncle if you’d like!”

Lucifer’s scowl deepens but says nothing as Charlie squeals in excitement and bursts with questions towards the older man. Vaggie is grateful that Azrael just happens to be the Virtue of Patience, because she isn’t sure any of the other Seven, especially Michael, would’ve lasted as long as him or answered as many questions.

“Babe, slow down. How about we talk about the hotel,” Vaggie suggests. Charlie takes a deep breath before rushing to go get her poster presentation that she’d apparently made especially for this.

She goes into detail about how she understands the number of sinners is greater than the number of winners which is why redemption would help even out the numbers and keep Hell’s population more steady. Azrael and Esther nod along as she speaks, taking in all of the information she presents to them.

“My biggest concern is that so far, we’ve only redeemed one person, and we had to watch him die for that to happen. Does that mean every sinner has to die and just hope they’ll be redeemed?”

“That’s hard to say,” Azrael replies. “Little is known about this, or that redemption was even possible. It shouldn’t be a surprise though. Father always says there is time in one’s life to repent for their ways.”

Charlie nods, happy that someone agrees.

“However,” Azrael continues, “it’s hard to say exactly in the afterlife. There’s a reason I never realized what was going on. I am fine tuned to the lives of living souls, and it is my job to guide them towards their afterlife, whether that be Heaven or Hell. Once they pass either gate, my connection to that soul is lost. They are not meant to die again in their afterlife. They are meant to remain where they are, whether that be punishment in Hell for their sins, or reward for their good behavior in Heaven.”

“But we can change that! We can give sinners a chance to repent in their afterlife,” Charlie replies. Azrael nods, but his face grows a bit more serious.

”I will be honest with you, dear child. This is new territory for all of us. We have yet to see if the souls of the dead can receive a retrial that does not require a second death. But if those from Heaven can fall,” Azrael says, his eyes shifting briefly to Lucifer beside Charlie, “then I have no doubt those from Hell should be able to ascend. I ask that you remain patient as we all navigate through this new discovery.”

Charlie nods along and Azrael smiles brightly at her. He stands, patting down his clothes to remove any wrinkles and offers his hand to Charlie.

”Now! I would love to hear more of your plans to entice sinners to the idea of redemption and a tour of this lovely establishment of yours! Let’s go, I believe your father needs a break from my presence and I would love to hear more about you without his glare on my head,” Azrael announces, already walking towards the elevator with Charlie who’d taken his hand. Vaggie follows after them, confused and a bit entertained by the man’s behavior.

“Now hold on a minute,” Lucifer begins to say, before he feels a hand on his shoulder. He looks over his shoulder at Esther who is smiling at him, and nearly forgets his worries. “Esther, I don’t know how I feel about this.”

”Do you believe I’d bring anyone here that would harm your daughter?” She asks in return. Lucifer pouts a bit but shakes his head. “He’s been very excited about this trip to meet her. The other Seven have wanted to visit as well but Azrael convinced them not to overwhelm you.”

“I think I would prefer Ramiel. Or Raphael. Or Uriel- Or, really anyone but Michael,” Lucifer replies. “Ramiel definitely would be preferred though.”

“Funny you should say that. Uriel and Cassiel send their regards, by the way. They say they love and miss you, and that they will be sure to judge you themselves should I choose to forgive you.” Esther laughs when Lucifer throws his head back and groans. “Ramiel managed to convince them not to, though Michael… Well you know how Michael is. He is hopeful, though he has his concerns.”

“Michael can shove his concerns up his own ass,” Lucifer mumbles to himself, though he smiles finally when Esther laughs a bit at his words. She moves her hand down his arm until it stops around his forearm just below his elbow. He instinctively curls his arm and moves his other to hold her hand on his arm.

“How about you give me your own tour?” She asks him, changing the subject. “I didn’t get to see the hotel last time I was here.”

Lucifer nods and guides her through the hotel for his own tour while his daughter shows his brother around. He’s still wary of it all, but he knows Esther is right. She wouldn’t bring anyone that would hurt them, and Azrael is the least likely, besides Raphael who’s dedicated his life to saving lives, to ever start a fight. Had it been Michael, Lucifer isn’t sure if he could’ve been stopped from attacking him on the spot. He at least has much fonder memories of Azrael.

He guides Esther through the hotel, showing off some of the different rooms such as the parlor, kitchen, or the more recreational areas he added himself simply because he could upon the hotel’s reconstruction. He puffs his chest in pride as she looks on, impressed by the hotel’s amenities.

He vaguely motions towards Alastor’s radio tower, not keen on taking her there, and she doesn’t question his reasoning, thankfully. She seemed to have caught onto his distaste.

Instead, towards the end of their tour, he leads her towards his own workshop. Not his room, he knows she won’t appreciate that level of forwardness, but he knows his new growing collection of rubber ducks will amuse her.

It’s not something he’d typically show off to anyone, and he’s sure under normal circumstances this isn’t something you’d show to someone you were interested in dating, but Esther wasn’t just anyone. This was something so much more than dating.

Part of him wondered, after Hell’s creation, if maybe they were meant to be separated. If humans were allowed to choose their partner, why couldn’t he? It had bugged him for so long. Part of it was what led to Charlie’s creation if he was being honest. But then he’d think of Esther, of her beauty and kindness, of the warmth he felt just when her eyes were on him, and he thought being bound to someone like her was the greatest gift his father ever gave him. He doesn’t regret Charlie, not in the slightest, even if he wishes Charlie’s mother could’ve been Esther, but sometimes he thinks his greatest punishment wasn’t his fall, it was the loss of his other half.

He’d give up everything if it meant another chance with her.

He leads her into his workshop, grinning proudly at the wonder in his eyes at the sight of all his rubber ducks.

She moves further into the room as she lets go of his arm, rushing towards the ducks in the rooms and grabbing at a few.

“Lucifer, what is all of this?” she asks as she chuckles, holding a rubber duck in her hands to inspect its design.

“My rubber duck collection,” he says, laughing to himself as he picks one up. “This isn’t even half of it.”

“Where are the rest?”

“In my manor,” he responds. He sits at his desk and watches her inspect another duck. “I think I made at least one a day for years.”

”That… doesn’t sound very healthy,” Esther says, lowering the duck in her hand and approaching him.

”No, I don’t think it was,” he responded, a melancholic smile on his face. “But they were something that comforted me when I felt like everything else was falling apart. Lilith left, can’t say it was without warning. She was getting tired of my moping and there was really nothing either of us could do about it. The friendship was already falling apart after Charlie’s birth. We tried to get along, we’re still friends, I think, but she didn’t want my hatred for Hell to affect Charlie. Charlie and I weren’t always close because of it. And for a long time, I felt more alone than ever. So I started making these to take my mind off things, and it helped.”

Esther is silent as she kneels in front of him, a hand on his knee in comfort.

She looks at him with those beautiful dark blue eyes, hair falling into them, and he reaches out to move her hand behind her ear.

”Why ducks?” She asks, voice just above a whisper.

”They reminded me of you,” he replies, pressing his forehead against hers. “They were something we created together. I used to create these beautiful projections of them for Charlie when she was a little girl and she loved them. They felt like a little piece of you here with me.”

Esther’s hand that isn’t on his knee moves to his hair, moving through the short hairs on the back of his neck.

“I’ve never stopped thinking about you. I’ll admit I wanted to sometimes. I thought maybe it’d hurt less if I just erased the memory of you, but then I’d think of your smile and everything hurt a little less. I’d think of the times we spent together, of how blissful everything felt with you by my side, and I couldn’t forget you. And then Charlie was born and I wanted her to have a piece of that happiness.”

He closes his eyes as his hands comb through her hair, enjoying the feeling of her’s in his own.

”You truly are something special, Lucifer Morningstar,” Esther says to him. He chuckles lightly and lifts his head to place a kiss on her forehead.

“Only because of you, Esther Eveningstar,” he replies, lips still pressed against her skin.

He never wants to be apart from her again.

————————————————————————

Apologies for any typos. My sleep schedule this week has been lacking to say the least.

Another character introduced! Learning about Azrael was fun for this. When I read he was from the “third heaven” I panicked a bit because it didn’t seem to fit with Dante’s spheres of paradise, but then I remembered that he and Lucifer(Samael) are angels of death, so having them all from the same sphere felt fitting! I was originally going to have Ramiel be the first to visit, as the Virtue of Kindness, but decided on Azrael instead because I thought Patience would be the best for Lucifer to be reintroduced to.

Anyways, at this point I feel like I can’t post a chapter unless I include a drawing at the end. This time I I decided I wanted to draw an idea for Lucifer’s look when he was still the Virtue of Humility. The Story of Hell shows him in a robe and still with his hat. I’ve seen people say his eyes were blue before his fall, but as his name means “the shining one” I feel like gold is more fitting. I also headcanon that his halo didn’t take the shape of a snake until after his fall, with the apple being added because of his actions, and as he took on a more demonic form, his appearance shifted as well. His eyes shifted to red, and when in his demonic form, his irises shift back to gold, but now with red sclera.

I’m not entirely happy with this drawing but, I didn’t want to hold off on posting the chapter so here it is!

Taglist: @dreamcatcher62 @art3misa635 @cimadreamer

#hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer reader #lucifer morningstar hazbin hotel #lucifer x oc #hazbin hotel lucifer x oc

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skunaskitten · 11 months

Text

Yakuza Husband ch2

Paring: sukuna x female reader

Contains: family talk, mention of death, stabbing, flirting

Au: sukuna yakuza boss

Summary: You are just trying find a way to live normal with sukuna being in your home as well but it was getting hard, it would be best if you just sat and talk with him.

chapter1 ch2 chapter 3

Ever since that night of sukuna's threats you kept your distance from him. Your boss has given you three days off and those days you ignored him waiting for your foot to fully heal up so you could walk properly again. Your coworkers were worried about what happened. You just told them you stepped on glass from a plate you dropped. You left out the details of sukuna.

He stayed out in the living room watching movies while you hid in your room only coming out to get food or to ask how his wound feels. You tried to have as little talk with sukuna as you could. The following day he was still in just his dirty pants with no shirt. Maybe it would be best if you got him some clothes since he is staying here a while.

"Hey sukuna."

He looked over at you taking a bite of the sandwich he made.

"I am going to go out to the store and get you fresh clothes and extra stuff." Sukuna smirked and gave you the size of his clothes. As you were about to grab the door he spoke out.

"Are you really going out there you are still limping. You shrugged and said "it's not so bad anymore. Plus there is things called busses and trains."

"Hey kitten, come here. Take this."

You curiously walked over to him as he stuck his hand into the cushion of your couch and pulled out a pocket knife. He opened it showing it to you. A tonto shaped blade about five inches long. "What is that for?"

"For your protection do not hesitate to use it. Keep it close to you."

You took it carefully and closed it then slipped it into your sweater pocket.

"Thank you sukuna, I will be back. If I don't come back before sundown. I guess you should start to worry."

"Kitten do not be afraid to use it. Make them bleed."

You gave a soft smile to him as he watched you leave the house then he walked up to your window taking a peek outside watching you walk away.

The first place you went was to a clothing store, looking around in the men's section picking a dark red button shirt and a black casual shirt. You smiled then went to look at the pants seeing which ones will fit as you checked the sizes on them.

"May I help you find anything miss?"

You looked over to see one of the female workers giving you a smile. "Oh no it's alright I am just trying to see what color would best fit on someone."

She smiled and asked "husband or son?" You blushed a little saying "uhh a friend." She giggled and said "no worries I will be around if you need help." You nodded and walked around some more until you found the things you needed.

You also stopped by a pharmacy to pick up more bandages for his wound. Walking around was starting to make your foot sore so you just had to walk slow. Taking the same route you always do when going home which means you had to walk by the same alleyway where you found sukuna. Your body felt a bad feeling in the air as you got closer to that alleyway. You wondered if his phone was still there?

As you came out from the corner there was someone standing there at the end talking on a phone. Feeling a shiver go down your spine you stepped away back around the corner of the wall to hide. The sun was setting and you had been out longer than you thought which meant sukuna was going to worry. If he even cared about you at all.

After what felt a little longer than a few minutes the man finally walked out and he looked normal. Probably just someone taking a walk to talk on the phone and wanting to talk somewhere private.

You watched him disappear out of sight so you took the chance to walk down the alley and to the spot where sukuna was at. To your luck the phone was there under some trash and you could still see the blood stains which must had been from him. You picked it up and placed it into your bag but when you turned around the man was standing right there at the entrance.

"Well, I didn't expect you to be one. They just take anyone, don't they. I am going to need that phone and tell me where you are holding him."

You gulped clutching onto your bag straps. "I don't know what you are talking about and I don't know who you are." He was wearing sunglasses so you couldn't see his eyes but his white hair and dressed in casual clothing looked normal to you.

He laughed and walked over to you with long strides saying "no need to lie we can have a normal conversation."

Alarms were going off in your head as you stuck your hand into your sweater pocket feeling the knife and opened it.

"Darling we can do this the good way or bad way. I rather do it the good way. I am really tired. So where are you hiding the king?"

He got closer to close then you quickly pulled out the knife and slashed it across him but he moved away as he groaned feeling the knife slice across his chest ripping his shirt.

You took a run for it seeing him holding his chest. Running for your life and not looking back taking the routes back home where there were more people. As you ran by the crowds they looked at you running by not noticing the knife in your hand. You didn't care about the pain in your foot right now you just needed to get home safe.

Seeing your home getting closer you felt your heart beat louder and harder and legs run faster. Tears filled your eyes as you ran through the gates but you were still not safe. You got to your door and started to fumble to get your keys out feeling your hands shake trying to put the key in. You kept looking back to see if anyone was coming after you.

"Fuck come on just get in already please."

The door suddenly opened with an arm pulling you inside your slightly darkened home. You yelped feeling yourself being pressed into a chest and the door closed. Feeling the warmth of skin and the bandages on the stomach you knew it was sukuna. You dropped everything and wrapped your arms around him crying slightly.

Sukuna wrapped his arms around you and rubbed your back trying to calm you down. "Hey its alright. Tell me what happened."

He looked over to the knife on the floor, seeing that you must have used it.

"I walked past the alley where I found you. There was a man there. I didn't think anything was wrong. When he left I went to get your phone and he came back. He wanted to know where you were. I used it like you said."

You looked up at him as he smirked and moved his hands to wipe away your tears with his thumb. "That's a good girl y/n. No more tears, your home now. You need to know that once you step foot into this world of mine there is no getting out of it. People will hunt you down to get any information out of you."

"Will I always have this issue of being hunted now?"

He saw the sadden look in your eyes as he let out a long breath from his nose. "Sadly yes kitten. There is no escape."

You pulled away from him looking down at the floor to the stuff then picked up the bag with his new clothes then handed it to him. "Here are the clothes with your phone. I am going to go check my foot."

Sukuna watched you limp away heading to your room and into the bathroom. He picked up the other stuff and placed it onto the table then pulled out the clothes and supplies you got him. Seeing the red button shirt and black shirt along with black jeans and soft cotton sleeping pants. Inside the bag he noticed the box of bandages and things for a shower. He looked at his stomach thinking it was a good time to get it refreshed.

He walked to your room and quietly stepped to your bathroom door hearing your slight cries through the door. He didn't know why the guilt started to set in him. He knows he shouldn't feel this way to any one but with you he doesn't know why?

Sukuna knocked on the door hearing you go quiet. "Y/n my bandages need to be changed."

The door opened for him to walk inside and take his seat on the toilet while you just ignored him taking out the stuff needing to clean the stitches. Sukuna could see how drained you are already done with life. Ever since that night he threatened you, it hasn't been the same for you. He remembered the caring eyes you had when you fixed him up and the soft smiles. It's been long since he has gotten any true smiles to him.

You got onto your knees in front of him and started to peel off the bandage as he smirked and said "if this was a different situation being on your knees would be more fun."

He didn't see you blush or smile, no emotion. His smirk disappeared and just looked over your face. Seeing nothing behind your eyes.

"You know you are not a prisoner. This is your home." You still ignored him.

"You hate me. I know it. It's all over your face."

"Sukuna, I don't want to have this life. I want to go back to my life where I just go to work, see and help animals and come home to relax. I don't want to have this fear of losing my life every time I walk out that door. Like you said there is no way to run from it. So I am trapped and you do not care. The sooner this is healed the better. Then I won't have to see you any more."

He leaned back watching you. "So now I am just a ruthless man who doesn't care about anyone."

"Yes." You answered quickly, staring at him with a scowl.

Sukuna looked away and said "when this is done I will leave right now. Will that make you happy."

"Won't you get killed."

He scoffed saying "I can handle myself darling."

"Clearly not." You told him pointing to his stomach then said "I promised I will help you. But it's just all this overwhelming. I am scared and stressed. I don't know what is going to happen next."

You leaned more between his thighs looking at the wound healing up nicely to your liking. He looked at you then closed his legs on you making you gasp and look at him. Sukuna chuckled, resting his cheek on his knuckle and releasing you saying "just making sure you are still aware of your surroundings."

You shook your head placing on a bandage saying "sukuna how many people have you killed?"

"Enough."

"That is not a answer."

He sighed and said "a plentiful amount."

"I wanted to ask you. Why did you ask me if I had a child or family?"

His jaw clenched debating whether he should tell you the truth or not.

"I don't think you want to hear the truth. Let's just say I have innocent blood on my hands. I am not proud of it. A thing that still haunts me sometimes."

You looked at him asking "did you kill a child?"

He just stared at you. Seems like you are pushing for the truth.

"Yes and no. I was forced to kill this woman. I didn't know she had a child both out and in the womb."

You looked away from him. He was right you didn't want to hear the truth but it wasn't like he did it on purpose.

"Are you a bad or good yakuza?"

He let out a laugh and said "kitten there are no good yakuza."

"The people that want you dead. They are bad right. Or is it the other way around."

Sukuna could see that you calmed down and got more curious about him and his way of life. It's better than watching and hearing you cry.

"Well every yakuza has their own clan. There is no good or evil. We do what we do to keep our family safe. At least I see my clan as family. We protect each other, anyone that is a close friend to us. But others who want me dead are not as friendly as us."

You leaned your arms on his thighs looking at him curious to hear more of his stories.

"The man I ran into called you a king. What did that mean?"

He smirked saying "I am the king of my clan. Ryomen sukuna, king of curses. Because in this life we are all cursed."

"It's a fitting name for you. I want to ask. Do your tattoos mean anything?"

Sukuna ran a hand through his hair then said "yes they all have a meaning. The plants are representing of japan and these flowers. Cherry blossoms are a big part of our culture. The lotus of life, the spiritual energy. And spider lilies of rebirth or death."

You smiled slightly looking at the colors saying "they are pretty."

"As for the one on my chest is what I do to people. I take their fingers as a mark."

You looked at him saying "gross do you keep them?"

He chuckled at your comment.

"I keep them for a while then send them back to the owner. They won't be able to put them back on though."

"What about your back?"

Sukuna rubbed the back of his neck and said "that is me. The king of curses."

"The artwork looks amazing."

He smirked and looked at his other arm.

"The dragon is everywhere in this culture a spirit. It could also mean power as well."

You noticed him stop talking, not explaining the tiger. "Umm what about the tiger?" He stiffened up and finally spoke but his voice was more quiet, "that is, for my little brother."

You can tell it's a touchy subject for him so you just let it go for now.

"You must a good big brother then." He nodded but didn't say anything else as you stood up saying "well your wound has been cleaned up and fresh."

Sukuna looked at you and said "what did this man look like?" You looked back at him and said "he was wearing sunglasses." He cut you off asking "did he have white hair casual clothing?"

"Yea why?"

Sukuna let out a sigh and stood up saying "that man is an idiot. He is one of my people. He probably thought you were along with the others that tried to get rid of me. But as you can tell they did a poor job. Always make sure your enemy is completely dead, always shoot in the head for an after kill."

"Sukuna, I am sorry I cut him. I didn't know."

He chuckled and said "don't be, I am proud. It teaches him a lesson never let his guard down or to approach anyone without backup."

You and sukuna walked out of the bathroom and to the living room as sukuna held up the clothes you got for him. Then went to pick up his phone looking at it. "Fuck it won't even turn on."

A smile formed on your face "I might be able to help. I have an extra phone. I still kept it after I got a new one just in case I broke mine."

You ran into your room going through a box in your closet then pulled out your other phone and came back to him handing it over. He smiled taking it then sat down to take apart the phones. You sat beside him watching him put the little memory card into your old phone then turned it on. When he saw all his information he smiled wide.

"Ahh perfect! Thank you sweetheart. Now I can let my people know I am safe."

You left sukuna alone to give him space to talk if he needed to talk about things he can't say in front of you. After he was done on the phone he walked over to you. "Y/n I told my men about you so if you need to go anywhere they will be watching you from afar to make sure you are safe during your travels."

You smiled at him saying "thank you sukuna."

It was the last day for your time off before you had to go back into work. You wanted to stay out in the living room to watch movies but sukuna was on the couch taking a nap. It is your home so rules are rules, you went out to sit on the floor in front of the couch. He turned in his sleep letting his arm fall off beside you.

You softly chuckled and went to place his arm back taking a longer look at his tattoos admiring the art work. You smiled and placed his arm back giving it a slight pat as you continued to watch your movie.

Sukuna didn't seem like the bad yakuza type when he is calm like this. It does scare you still after he threatened you but you can see how he feels bad about doing that to you. After seeing him on his bad side then sitting him watching him sleep peacefully, it was cute to see him.

You bit your lip slightly and raised your hand to touch his pink fluffy hair feeling the slight softness of it. Looking at the black shirt and sleeping pants you bought him, he looks hot in them. You picked out the perfect color and fit. As you pulled your hand away you heard his voice. "Did I say stop?"

You snapped your attention to him saying "sukuna I am sorry I didn't mean to touch you." He smirked, crossing his arms saying "it's fine kitten. It felt nice."

Sukuna groaned as he sat up and ran through his hair. "I should try to take a shower."

You smiled at him saying, "well I bought you supplies so you can go ahead if you want just don't soak the stitches. I will bring you some more bandages."

You left to your room and into your bathroom to grab the medical kit then you walked over to the spare bathroom to the door giving it a knock hearing him tell you to come in. When you walk through the door you froze seeing him naked from the back side. A blush filled your cheeks standing there frozen but your eyes would stop shamelessly staring at his naked form. His ass and thighs seeing a black band around the top of his thighs. All the muscle that is on him. The full art work on his back.

Sukuna looked over at you with a smirk. "Hey kitten you alright?"

You snapped out of your gaze placing the kit on the counter then looked away. He chuckled as you turned around as you blushed more and looked away. "I am fine sukuna. I will leave now."

"Why don't you join me?"

You looked back at him then realized he was facing you and you gazed right at it then covered your face.

"No it's fine…I will leave now.." you left the bathroom closing the door, your cheeks red and face felt hot.

He is a dangerous and sexy man. You didn't know why he was so willing to let you see him or even be near him this way.

While he took his shower you went to start making dinner for both you and him. Sukuna walked into the kitchen just with his sleeping pants on and a towel around his neck.

"What are you making?"

You looked over at him and turned away as you could smell the scent of the soap making you smile.

"Just some ramen. You know that soap smell fits the color of your hair."

He chuckled saying "I noticed you brought that scent for me."

"Well you smell nice now and not like a dirty alley way." You just so happen to purposely buy cherry blossom pink soap for him just to spite him from being an asshole.

You looked over to his stomach seeing the stitching and the healing wound. "You didn't put a bandage on it?"

"I like it when you do it."

He moved a hand and went to lightly scratch around the wound as you swatted his hand away. "No scratching you will loosen the stitch work."

The ramen was done and you served him a bowl and took yours then started to walk towards your room until he spoke out. "Come sit with me."

You looked at him with hesitation then went to sit on the other side of the couch next to him. The two of you were silent for a while just eating but you broke the silence with a question.

"So ryomen sukuna. It's an interesting name."

"It means two faced spirit." He looked over at you as you looked at him and said "that explains the double eyes on your face and your tattoo."

He placed his bowl down onto the table saying "I want to ask. Where did you learn to do medical work?"

You put your bowl down as well and got more comfortable on the couch. "My father taught me. He used to work on animals as well. So I just followed in his footsteps. Now I work for a shelter helping injured animals."

He turned his attention to you and rested his cheek on his knuckle of his right hand. "How did you know to fix up people?"

You looked away to your hands. "He used to bring home his friends with stab and bullet wounds. He showed me how to fix up wounds like that. So I know how to stitch up animals and humans."

"What happened to him?"

You let out a sigh and said "he was shot and died at the hospital. The report said it was suicide attempt. I don't believe it. I think he was murdered."

Sukuna then asked "where is your mother?"

You started to tear up and say "car accident she died when i was young so I didn't get to grow up with her it was just me and my dad."

"You've been alone for a while. No lover?"

You gave him a sad smile hearing sukuna's question and said "I have bad luck with men. None are faithful."

You looked back to sukuna and said "did you know that I almost died in the womb. Well could have. My mother was stabbed when she was eight months pregnant with me. My mother survived a stab wound and in the process she punched the man in the face."

Sukuna smirked and said "well I am glad you are here. I would probably be tied up and tortured to death if you didn't find me."

You gave him a wide smile and said "I am happy that my work was able to help someone. With this rate your wound should be healed up fully in no time."

"Did you see a dog in the alley way?" You looked back on him confused and said "yes why?"

"I saw him and went to give him some food then I was attacked. I am surprised that dog stayed around".

You smiled saying "the dog probably knew you were in danger so he was waiting to signal someone that just so happened to be me."

He smirked and asked "what is your favorite animal?" You chuckled and said "I like cats the most but I guess for animals I would have to say it's tigers." He said "just like my little brother he loved tigers."

Sukuna quickly looked to you realizing he slipped up by telling you that part of his life he does not wish to speak of. "It's fine if you don't want to speak about it."

He sighed laying back against the couch saying "he died. I got this tattoo for him after he passed."

You could see the hurt behind his eyes as he looked at the tattoo but he didn't show it through his body.

"Hey ryomen I think I am going to go to bed now. I have work early tomorrow. Will you be fine by yourself?"

He smirked saying "yes I am fine I am a big boy."

You went to bed with still worried thoughts about sukuna being in your home alone. But you seemed to get closer to him after the talk. Hopefully you are more on a friend level with him so that you don't have to worry much.

thank you for reading. sukuna is slowly learning all new feelings.

< chapter1 chapter 3 >

#ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yakuza sukuna #yakuza husband #yakuza au

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achilles-rage · 7 days

Text

Good Luck Charm: Chapter 18

college football player!buck x plus size!reader

summary: you finally finish your assignment and talk about the upcoming holiday break.

word count: 3.1k

previous chapter

series masterlist

a/n: believe me when i say i was not planning for this chapter to go the way it did. but it’s fine it was hot<3 i also kept the holiday reader celebrates ambiguous to keep it inclusive, so hopefully i can keep it going being nonspecific lol, enjoy<3

warnings: smut, plus size!reader, fem!reader, race inclusive!reader

MDNI- 18+ only!

While Evan put up a fight at first about accepting your help, he quickly got over it. You kept trying to reassure him that you want to help, that you want him to heal as well as possible, even if you have to do things for him. He didn’t listen at first; he didn’t want to be a burden; he didn’t want you to be annoyed with him or feel like you had to help him. But still, you continued to care for him with a smile on your face, and soon enough, he started to love how much you were doting on him. It made him feel important, loved.

It’s almost exhausting when he’s finally used to you doing things for him, and you’d be a little upset if he wasn’t so cute with his little pouty lips and puppy dog eyes.

“Princess, can you get me some more water?”

“Princess, can you get me a sweater?”

“Princes, can you…?”

You’re almost certain he’s exaggerating his injuries by now, as his concussion is gone and his ankle has been healing for a couple of weeks, but how can you say no when he asks you to stay with him for a little bit longer? You love being with him, and you love taking care of him, so it makes sense to spend most nights at his place rather than going back to your apartment.

You’re at his house again, both of you sitting on his bed as you work on the final touches of your assignment. You’re happy to finally be done with it, although you have this weird feeling in your chest that once your assignment is handed in, you won’t have any reason to see Evan. You know your worries are unnecessary; you’re dating, and he seems very content in keeping you around all the time, but you feel that minuscule voice in your head telling you what you know isn’t true.

You look out his bedroom window, smiling as you see the soft blanket of snow covering his front yard, the sunset shining brightly off of it and making you excited for the quickly approaching winter break. It’s already December, and you can’t believe how quickly the semester has passed. A couple weeks off and finally able to spend some time with your family? You couldn’t imagine anything better. Especially for the holidays.

“What are you doing for winter break?” you ask as Evan types away on his computer. He looks up at you after a moment, his fingers stilling on his keyboard. His expression almost looks upset, but he quickly covers it with a small smile.

“I’m not sure yet. I’ll probably stay here; hang out with some of the guys on the team that aren’t going home either.” he tells you, his voice oddly monotone. You know he’s not especially close to his parents, but you didn’t know it was bad enough for him to not go home during winter break. He’s definitely holding his emotions back right now, and it makes your heart clench to think about him alone during the holidays, with no loving family to go home to.

“Your parents don’t want you to go home?” you ask, but you already know the answer. He shrugs, giving you a soft “I don’t think they care” as he looks down at his hands, fidgeting with his fingers. Sadness fills your eyes, and you let out a quiet exhale. How can his parents not want to see him?

“What about your sister? I’m sure she wants to see you.” you try to reassure him, but you can see that your words cause sadness to fill his eyes as he shakes his head. You reach over and grab one of his hands, which pulls his gaze from his lap to your face.

“You can’t be alone for the holidays.” you whisper. You can feel the question on the tip of your tongue, and while you know it may be a little weird to ask, it feels like the words are fighting their way up your throat.

“I’ll be alright, princess. It’s not the first time, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.” he tells you with a shrug, trying to mask his sadness with a reassuring smile. You tilt your head to the side as you look at him, frowning. You feel the words slip from your mouth before you can stop him; why is he the one reassuring you right now? You should be the one telling him that he shouldn’t have to be used to that. That he deserves to feel loved all the time, but especially around the holidays.

“Why don’t you come home with me for the break?” His eyes widen at your words, and for a moment, so do yours. You know it’s probably too early for that kind of thing; he’d be meeting your entire family, for God’s sake, but you can’t imagine him sitting here alone while everyone else is with their families.

“You want me at your parents’ house for the holidays?” he asks in disbelief, although he can feel his heart pounding at the thought. He absolutely loves the idea of meeting your parents, and spending a few weeks in your hometown; learning even more about you.

“I’m sure they’d love to meet you. I know my mom does.” you tell him a bit sheepishly. You’ve told your mom about him already, although you’re not as close to her as you once were, you still talk to her fairly regularly.

“Your dad doesn’t?” he asks you curiously, using the hand holding yours to pull you towards him. You get up onto your knees and crawl across the bed, then straddle his lap and wrap your arms around his neck loosely.

“I haven’t told him. Not sure how he’d react.” you say with a shrug, leaning forward and resting your forehead against his. He hums softly, and although he’s a little nervous about your answer, he also feels an overwhelming urge to prove to your father that he’s good for you.

“Yeah? Tell me about him, so I know what to expect.” You lean back, looking at him with an unsure smile, disbelief in your eyes.

“You’ll come?” you ask, your smile widening when he nods. You laugh softly and lean in to give him a chaste kiss, but he quickly deepens it, his hand moving to your jaw and tilting your head slightly. You smile into the kiss, and let him continue to kiss you for a moment, one of your hands making its way into his hair while his other hand moves up and down your thigh.

“So, tell me about your parents.” he speaks after he pulls away, looking up at you with a gleam in his eye. He loves the way you look sitting on his lap, lips puffy and eyes in a slight daze. He thinks it’s adorable that even after the countless times he’s kissed you, you still always pull back with wide eyes and a soft smile, almost like you’re surprised he’s kissing you.

“Well, my mom will love you, so you don’t have to worry about her much. I think she’ll just be happy I’ve finally brought someone home. My dad’s sort of protective, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. He’s a firefighter, and he’s an extrovert, so all you have to do is ask him about his job, and the heat will be off of you for hours.” you explain to him, laughing softly as you explain your dad’s tendency to talk about his job. He’s always wanted to be a firefighter, and he loves the job, so it’s become a joke between you and your mom about how quickly he can change the subject to work during conversations with anyone that will listen.

Evan hums softly, nodding as he listens to you. He laughs along with you, feeling his nerves settle slightly as you tell him how to get on your dad’s good side. He can’t believe he’s agreed to this so quickly; a few months ago, he would never have pictured himself being introduced to a girl’s parents. But now, with you, he feels both excited and like his heart is about to stop from his nerves.

“You think he’ll like me?” he asks a bit nervously. You smile, shrugging as you think about it. You’ve never introduced a guy to your father, so you’re really not sure how he’ll react. While you want to reassure Evan, you don’t want to give him a false sense of hope.

“I like you. I think he’ll see that. He might just have to warm up to you.” you tell him after a moment of silence. He nods again at your words, licking his lips as he averts his gaze from yours, beginning to think about it maybe a little too much. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay. He’ll probably just want to make sure you’re a good guy. It’s not like he’ll find out you’re, like, a murderer or something.” you tease in a low voice, giving him a cheeky smile. You want to calm his nerves; you can see the wheels turning in his head. He chuckles as his eyes refocus on you, and he pulls you in by the back of your neck, lips level with your ear.

“Maybe not, but I definitely wouldn’t want him to find out what I’ve done with you, how I think of you most of the time.” he rasps, and you feel your cheeks grow hot.

“Yeah? What are you thinking about right now?” you get out, your voice just above a whisper. Although your words are teasing, your stomach is filled with butterflies. Even after months of being with him, there’s always a split second that you forget you’re not still the shy, inexperienced person you were before.

“I’m thinking about taking you in your childhood bedroom. Your parents in the other room. Having to put my hand over your mouth to keep your quiet.” he says, nipping at your neck between sentences. You bite your lip, feeling a familiar warmth in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re crazy if you think my dad’s gonna let us share a room.” you tease softly, tilting your head back as he continues to kiss your neck. He chuckles against your skin, which causes you to shiver as his hot breath hits your neck.

“What he doesn’t know won’t kill him.” he whispers in your ear, then continues his trail of kisses down your neck. You roll your eyes, giggling softly, but it’s cut short when you feel Evan’s hand dip below the waistband of both your leggings and your panties, and move straight to your core.

“You’re so wet already. You like that idea? Having to keep quiet for me?” he says in a cocky tone, looking up at you. You bite your lip as your hips buck against his hand instinctively, trying to gain more friction as his fingers ghost against your clit.

He chuckles as he feels your hips move, but doesn’t tease any further. He pushes a finger into your dripping cunt, pumps it into you a few times, then adds another. You mewl softly, leaning down to capture his lips in a kiss, which he happily returns. His thumb finds your clit after a moment, and he groans as he feels you clench around his fingers with a soft moan.

“You’re so good for me, princess. Always so good for me.” he says against your lips, then curls his fingers to hit that spot inside of you that makes you see stars. You tilt your head back with a whine, rolling your hips as you feel the familiar feeling growing in your belly.

He increases his movements when he sees your face contorting in pleasure, knowing you’re approaching your high, but you stop him before you can get there. You pull his hand away with quick, albeit reluctant, movements.

“Need to feel you.” you whisper in an almost pleading tone, and that’s all it takes.

He grabs your hips and flips you over onto the bed, then moves to kneel in front of you. He reaches for your leggings and makes quick work of pulling them and your panties down your legs, you lifting your hips off the bed to help him out. He makes you sit up once your bottoms are discarded, and pulls your knit sweater over your head, not even bothering to take your bra off before his hands are pulling on his shirt. Once he’s taken his clothes off, he’s on top of you, using one arm to hold himself up, and the other pumping his cock a few times before moving the tip over your slick folds.

“Please.” you beg as you look up at his face, pupils blown and lips turned in an almost-pout. He licks his lips as his eyes move up from your cunt to your eyes, smirking. He doesn’t waste any more time, and he sinks into you with a breathy groan. His head falls to the crook of your neck as he buries himself to the hilt, feeling you stretching around him so perfectly.

“Oh my god.” you whine as your hands find his shoulders. Your nails dig into his skin as he starts to move, and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to his size. He fits so nicely inside of you, but you’d be lying if you said there’s not a second when he first pushes into your dripping cunt where you think that you’re too full, that you won’t get used to the feeling of all of him.

“That’s it, princess. Let me hear you.” he drawls. He picks up the pace as he begins to kiss down your neck, making sure he leaves light spots around your collar bones and tits. He loves marking you, but the last time he marked your neck, you got mad that you weren’t able to cover it up easily, so now he leaves them in places for his eyes only.

You let out a shuttered cry when his fingers find your clit again, and your nails dig into his back more harshly, which makes him groan in a mix of pain and pleasure. He loves to be marked by you too, loves having reminders of you on his skin. He leans back to look into your eyes again, and he almost smirks when he sees you struggling to keep your eyes open, your body moving with each thrust. He looks down at your soft tummy and chest and he moans again. He loves seeing your tummy move as he fucks you; almost as much as he likes to fill your belly with his seed.

“Keep making noises like that and I won’t last long, baby.” he teases, then meets your lips in a deep kiss. His hips move in rough thrusts as his fingers circle your clit, and you know that you’re not going to last long either.

“Feels so good.” you rasp against his lips, and he smirks as he pulls back.

“Yeah? You like that, princess?” he asks in a cocky tone, feeling his high quickly approaching as he looks down at your fucked out expression. All you can do is nod as you feel the pit in your tummy growing, your words coming out in incoherent babbling.

With a few more thrusts, Evan is right on the edge, but as he’s about to pull out, you wrap your legs around his waist. He raises a brow as you look up at him, soft pleas escaping your lips.

“Come inside me. Evan, please.” you get out, keeping your legs firmly locked around him. He groans, trying not to cum right then and there. The way you say his name makes his head spin, and soon enough, he’s nodding, his hips snapping against yours with increased fervor.

“You want me to fill you up? Huh, princess?” he asks, leaning in to whisper in your ear. His thrusts are getting sloppy, and you know he’s almost there.

“Please. Fill me up.” you plead, your back arching off the bed as you feel yourself teetering on the edge.

“Come for me, baby. Let me feel you.” he grunts in your ear, and after a few more thrusts, you feel his hot cum hitting your insides. This, paired with his fingers ghosting over your clit causes you to fall over to the edge with a high pitched squeal, clenching around him as your vision goes blank. You squeeze your eyes shut as your body goes stiff, your hands still firmly on his shoulders.

“There you go, princess. God, you’re gorgeous.” he whispers against your skin. He slows his hips to a stop, staying inside of you for a minute or two as you both catch your breath. He moves his head down to the valley of your breasts, pressing soft kisses all over the skin not covered by your bra as he stays lying on top of you, and you hum happily.

After a few minutes, he finally pulls out, groaning at the sight of his cum dripping down your soft skin and onto his sheets. He grabs a towel from his closet and cleans you off carefully, pressing kisses on your plush belly as his hands moves, and once he’s done, he crawls back into bed beside you and pulls you in to lay your head on his chest.

“We can’t do this at my parents’ house.” you tease as you lay your cheek against his chest, and you smile when you feel the rumble of his laugh ripple through his chest under you.

“No? Don’t think you can keep quiet?” he replies in a similar tone, squeezing your shoulder as he holds you tightly against him.

“I’m more worried about you.” you tell him in a serious tone. He can hear the smile in your voice, but he still rolls his eyes as he scoffs.

“Yeah, we’ll see.” he says in a quiet tone, voice trailing off as he looks up at the ceiling.

If you’re really serious about not doing anything for two weeks, he thinks he’ll go crazy. He’s been able to have you pretty much anytime he wants for the past few months, and imagining you at your house, forbidden fruit dangling in front of him with your father around, he knows it’s going to be torture for him.

next chapter

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joels-shitty-puns · 10 months

Text

The Key To Your Heart - Track 9

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader

Series Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.

Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Panic/Anxiety attack. Alluding to sexual scenarios. Kissing. Fat shaming, name calling. Mentions of food, weight loss, weight gain, dieting, weighing, potential eating disorder, food guilt. Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f) maybe more smut later idk. Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).

Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably. Further, in case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

Word Count: 2.7K

Series List: Here!

Miss Chapter 8? Here!

Hi everyone!! I really don't feel great about this chapter, I'm sorry if it sucks. I kinda just want to get it out there though because I don't see my brain thinking up anything better. A lot of writer's block surrounding this scene. Anywho, hopefully next chapter will be better, but I still hope you like it. Although we allude to a little bit of sexual situations now that they are together, I likely will avoid explicit smut being that Pedro is a real human and I am a guilty, guilty human for writing any smut at all. I don't want to offend Pedro (not that he'd ever see it anyway, I am delusional), but I also know people find real person fiction uncomfy as a whole. That being said, I think this story may be coming to a close pretty soon. I plan to have maybe one more full storyline chapter, and at least one little side bonus chapter :) Please let me know what you think in the comments, or DM me if you wanna chat! I love hearing all your thoughts. Thank you for reading and hanging in here with me.

Before the screen even had a chance to load, you canceled the request. Nervously looking at Pedro, he held your hand under the table. “What is it?” he asked gently.

“I just realized,” you replied. “What if they ask about us? About those pictures? What should I say?”

Pedro answered with a gentle stroke of his thumb on your cheek. “Whatever you feel comfortable with. I'm sure I'll be fine with whatever you say, baby. I know your privacy is important to you, and I trust you. I'm all in with you.”

“Okay.” You took a deep breath and once again began the stream.

“Live in 3…”

“2…”

“1…”

The fans began to file in, and before you knew it, you had thousands of viewers. Opting to start with your screen covered, you wanted to give an intro first before the big reveal.

It wasn't long before the comments flowed across the screen.

You took a deep breath, squeezing Pedro’s hand, and jumping in. “Hi everyone! It's me… a lot has been happening lately and I decided it might be time to show a little more of myself.”

-“First!”

-“Did she mean to start a live video ??"

-"Hiii! I'm a big fan"

-“Is she there??”

-“Do you guys see anything?”

“So… Here's me.” You turned on your camera, waving at the screen, your stomach twisting in deeper knots.

-“No fucking way.”

-“!?!!!!!”

-“SCREAMING”

“Hi… Some of you might know me, some might be surprised. But this is me. This is the girl behind the music.”

The comments flooded in, entirely too fast for you to read.

“I want to thank all of you for being fans and listening to my songs. It really means a lot and I hope you liked the album. Your support blows me away, especially with what little information about myself I've given.”

More comments.

“Well, I uh… guess I should read some of these comments and answer some questions. I'm sure there’s a lot you all are wondering about,” you stated nervously, starting to read.

-“Why did you hide your identity?”

“Why did I hide my identity… I hid my identity mostly based on poor self image. I never expected my music to gain popularity, never expected celebrities to know it. Never expected any of it, and it certainly brought its share of criticism. I was scared to be in the spotlight and I didn't feel like I looked good enough to be someone famous. You know? I'm not skinny, I have flaws, and that doesn't always sit well with the Internet. I guess I was mainly scared of how I would be perceived. I'm just a normal girl who had her whole life flipped upside down when I wrote my feelings down,” you laughed anxiously.

Choosing to ignore the storm brewing in the comments below, you addressed the earlier comment. “Thank you for your kind words. I'm glad I can make you feel more accepted by seeing more plus-sized people in the entertainment business. Everyone should feel seen and have a place at the table, no matter what you look like, or who you are.”

-“I think it's nice to have more celebrities that look kinda like me.”

-“You're so humble!!”

-“You should've stayed hidden lmao”

-“Shut up, asshole. Why are you here if you're going to be rude?”

-“I'm sure you're a real supermodel behind that keyboard bravery.. smh”

You weren't expecting someone to actually feel like you were representing them and making them feel seen. You didn't think you had enough of an impact for that. You certainly weren't treated that way when you weren't famous. Nobody really even noticed you before.

You could feel Pedro’s eyes on your face, his thumb swirling circles and hearts over the space of skin on the top of your hand, below your thumb. The place where his bullseye resides on his own. Does he trace that tattoo when he's nervous, the same way he is with me? Perhaps his tracing of your hand is calming himself as much as it is for you.

Desperately, you wanted to look over at him and be comforted by his deep brown eyes, but doing so would cause people to wonder who you made eye contact with and smiled at. So instead, you gave a gentle squeeze and a smile towards the screen, hoping he would understand.

-“Hi, I'm a big fan of yours. Can I ask… is what you said on your album true? You've never been kissed before? I haven't either and I was starting to feel like I'm just a freak.”

“Oh, honey, you aren't a freak. Everyone has things happen at different times in their life. But yes, everything I wrote in my album at the time I wrote it was true. And don't worry, I have felt the same way. Seeing others be kissed, falling in love… having the things I wasn't, it really hurts. But it'll be okay.. nothing is wrong with you. You're deserving of love.”

You hoped they wouldn't pick up on your usage of past-tense wording. Pedro, still holding your hand, rubbed his other hand over your arm gently.

-“Wait… at the time you wrote it? What about now?”

The comments were going wild.

Welp…

Your hands shook, and you used your opposite hand to place on top of Pedro’s that gripped yours. He squeezed gently, feeling the nervous tremors pass through your body, continuing to rub gentle strokes over your arm with his opposite hand.

“Uhm…” your cheeks heated and your stomach sank.

“I've changed a lot since this album was first written. Experienced new things. But I'm still the same person.”

Shit.

-“Who did you kiss?! Is it the guy in your song?”

-“Will you tell us who the song is about?”

-“Wait a second… you're that girl aren't you!?!!!! The one in the pictures with Pedro Pascal!!!!”

-“OMG IT IS”

-“!!!!!!!”

-“IS HE THE GUY!?!”

-“ARE YOU DATING!?!”

The nervous tremors continued, now threatening to cause your teeth to chatter. A full panic attack was brewing. Pedro squeezed your hand again, touching your knee and trying to do his best to ground you without speaking up on your live video. Skipper could feel the waves of anxiousness pooling off of you as well and crawled forward to settle his body across your feet. You took a few calming breaths, but when you went to speak, your voice still betrayed you.

“I..” your voice cracked, shakiness evident as you could feel tears starting to edge their way towards your vision.

I can't do this. I can't do this. I need to shut it off.

You shut your eyes, taking deep breaths, trying to ease your nausea and stress.

Keeping your eyes closed, you spoke. “Yes.”

You took another deep breath. “Yes it was me, yes the song was about him. Yes.”

You opened your eyes to read the comments, tears pooling down your cheeks as you couldn't hold back your emotion anymore.

This is so embarrassing. The first time I show my face I'm crying and having an anxiety attack in front of the whole world.

You swallowed, choking back the full sobs that your body wanted to let loose. Wiping your face with the back of your hand, you began to read the comments, expecting laughter, criticism, and bullying. Instead, you were met with kindness.

Coming back to your senses, you gave a shaky smile. “Thank you guys. I'm sorry for my emotions.” You sniffled. Pedro was still rubbing your hands and arms, comforting you, having never stopped. His eyes still bore into the side of your head, and you knew he was struggling to not speak up or grab you fully.

-“Oh my God, are you okay?”

-“I didn't mean to make you cry I'm so sorry”

-“You and Pedro make a cute couple”

-“Oh no, please don't cry”

-“Idk if you guys are dating but you seem cute”

-“I'm so glad you guys are spending time together when he's the guy in your song”

-“It'll be okay, please don't be upset”

-“You're amazing, we love you”

“Yes, Pedro and I have been spending a lot of time talking after he publicly commented on my song a few months ago. The party was the first time we met in person and we're still figuring things out,” you let go of your worries and broke eye contact with the camera, looking to your side to meet Pedro’s gaze. “But… we're happy.” You smiled at him. He smiled back gently, squeezing your hand, worry and sadness plaguing his face over your well-being. Breaking eye contact, you looked back at the screen.

You giggled before answering “well, I think that's all we have time for today. Thank you all for joining me!” You silently clicked off the stream, closing the browser, turning off the computer, and turning to Pedro. He grabbed your other hand in his, now holding both. “Are you okay?” He asked, concern etched in his face.

-“AAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!”

-“IS HE THERE WITH YOU!?!”

-“whaaaaat”

-“SCREAMING”

-“Shut. Up. This is insane.”

-“YOU GUYS ARE SO CUTE I CAN'T TAKE IT”

“I think so,” you nodded.

“Seeing you panic and not being able to do anything without potentially making it worse… It killed me. I'm so sorry. I just wanted to pull you into my arms and end that video myself. I hated seeing you so upset.” He stared down at your intertwined hands, rubbing his thumb over them again.

“I appreciate you being here for me,” you let go of his hand to stroke his cheek. “I couldn't have done that without you.” You met his eyes, leaning forward to rest against his forehead. He let out a shaky breath. “I love you. I'm so proud of you.”

“I love you too,” you replied with a smile. “Let's move to the couch, huh?” You asked, pulling him up from the chair. He stood, just as your phone rang, a call from Rose. You quickly answered.

“I saw the live stream. You did wonderful! Don't worry about any of the negative comments you saw or any stories that come out of this. I'll handle it all.”

“Thanks, Rose.”

“Anytime. Take care.” She hung up.

You updated Pedro as the two of you walked towards the couch. “Do you want breakfast?” He asked.

“Maybe in a minute. Can I just hold onto you for a few minutes?”

“I would love nothing more.”

He sat on the couch, you sitting next to him, before he gave you a look. “What?” you laughed. He patted his leg.

“Let me hold you.”

“I'm too heavy for that Pedro, don't be ridiculous,” you shook your head.

“You're the one being ridiculous.” He reached over, pulling you into his lap. “I'm too heavy! You're going to hurt yourself,” you whined.

“You're not too heavy. You're the perfect size, baby. Come here,” he pulled you forward, your body sliding down his thighs as he wrapped his arms around you. You straddled his lap, knees on either side of his hips while he rubbed your back gently. You placed your arms around him, nuzzling into his neck and closing your eyes. You both sighed, and he grabbed a blanket next to him to pull over your bodies. “I could stay like this for hours, wrapped in your arms” you sighed comfortably.

“Why don't you?” He turned his head to kiss your lips. You lifted your face up, taking your head off his shoulder to kiss him deeper. The kisses were lazy and comfortable, holding each other and enjoying the warmth of being in each other's arms.

Finally the two of you broke the kiss, settling back on his shoulder, him tilting his head to lean against yours. His hands sprawled over your back, pulling you forward a bit to adjust in his lap. You let out a soft whimper at the contact, fully aware of the location your bodies connected at the moment. “Feel how much you mean to me?” He asked, his breath ghosting your ear as he pulled your hips forward again. You whined. “Yes..” you answered breathlessly. The temptation to keep doing that was overwhelming. But he once again wrapped his arms around you, rubbing your back as the two of you comfortably dozed off, finally relaxed after so much stress of the morning.

Hours later, you stirred, feeling Pedro still underneath you. At the feel of you moving, he stretched a bit before settling with his arms around you again. “Morning, baby” he hummed. “Guess we fell asleep,” you smiled.

“Some of the best sleep I've had in a while, here with you.”

“Same here.” You blinked your eyes open, kissing him on the lips with a peck. “What time is it?”

He turned his head to look at the clock on your TV. “5 o’clock” he laughed. “Guess we both needed some rest.”

“Mmmm, I guess so,” you hummed, settling into him more.

“Good thing I brought nonperishables. Are you hungry?”

You pondered. “Yeah, I am,” you looked into his deep brown eyes. “Breakfast for dinner?” You smiled at him.

“Sounds perfect.” He pecked your lips before you slid off his lap, the two of you standing to stretch. It wasn't long that you two stood apart before you leapt forward again to give him a hug. He laughed, hugging you back. “I'll never get tired of being in your arms,” you smiled into his chest, breathing in his scent.

“I'll never get tired of holding you in mine,” he pulled his face back to look at you.

“Now let's eat! I'm starved,” you scampered towards the kitchen, him giving a gentle pat to your butt before hugging you from behind as you grabbed the breakfast foods. You giggled, setting food on plates as he kissed your neck, still wrapped around you from behind. “I'm starving too,” he replied back to your earlier statement with a growl, biting your ear.

“Pedro!” You giggled, smacking his arm gently. He chuckled, pulling away and grabbing his plate as you both headed to the table.

The two of you ate, filling the space with light conversation, both of you occasionally sneaking Skipper some bites under the table. He could get used to having two humans spoiling him.

The chatter came to a natural pause, eating in silence and smiling at each other across the table. Pedro stopped eating, wiping his hands and continuing to stare at you. You laughed, asking him what was up. Suddenly, he looked nervous.

“I, uh…” he rubbed his neck. “I was going to wait until after we had at least a first date to say this, but…” he trailed off, and your mind spiraled. Is he breaking up with me? Is he not interested anymore? What's wrong?

“I was wondering if… you'd be my girlfriend? Exclusively?” His cheeks flushed.

You stammered, dropping your fork on the plate. “You… you want… me to be your girlfriend?” You smiled.

He nodded. “If… you'll have me.”

“You want to be my boyfriend?” He nodded again, looking down at the table.

“Yes. Yes, are you kidding? Please! I'd love nothing more.” You grinned, jumping out of your chair to move to him.

He stood, pulling you into a hug. “Really?” He smiled at you.

“Really,” you nodded. “Now kiss me,” you held his face.

“Gladly,” he pulled you closer, kissing you deeply, his tongue asking for entrance to your mouth. You squealed, surprised, but letting him in. You'd never experienced this sensation before. But it was… incredible.

He licked your lips, the two of you exploring the inside of each other's mouths, tongues dancing together. The kiss was heated and deeper than ever before, both of you finally pulling away for air, him coming back in to peck your lips a few times, sucking your lip between his own. You sighed shakily. “Wow.”

“I love kissing you,” he smiled against your lips.

“I love kissing you. You're a good kisser,” you smiled back.

“So are you,” he smirked. “My beautiful girlfriend.” He gave a kiss. “How about that date tomorrow?” He pulled away to look at you, letting his hand rub across your lower back, just above your butt.

“I'd love to,” you stroked his face. “My handsome boyfriend.” You wrapped your arms around him again, blissfully.

“Tomorrow,” you two sighed in unison.

@pedrotonin @starcrossed02 @lightupsketchersperson @cartoon-garbage04 @tyferbebe @maryfanson @gwendibley84 @faithfullyyours2000 @brilliantopposite187 @hc-geralt-23 @jenniferpendragon @winchestergypsy90 @red-red-rogue @theendwhereibegin @lottieellz101 @oliversaurus @kyga01 @milly-louise @titabel @taz-97 @stefanibear003 @marantha @fandomoniumflurry @ilovemybrown-eyedbabygirl @leiadjarin @hmneighbors

Thank you for reading!!! Let me know what you think ❤️

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #a! wrote a fic #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x afab!reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x plus sized! reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x musician!reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal rpf #rpf #key to your heart

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marigold-hills · 2 months

Text

Dunes & Waters, part 28

PART 1 • PREVIOUS PART • NEXT PART

(I’ve been gone, I’m back, have an extra long chapter) (missed me?)

It’s huge, the dog is, fur the colour of Sirius’ hair and fluffy and everywhere. Clever eyes. Pads the size of dinner plates. It’s adorable, the kind of a dog Remus wants to cuddle up to on a cold evening.

If it growled at him in a dark alleyway? He’d probably cry and run.

The dog goes up to the security guard like it’s his mission, struts down the tiled museum floor. Remus, frozen, watches.

When the guard notices, he doesn’t try to grab it as Remus feared but calls on his headset. Remus makes out dog and help and very very large. Wastes precious time given to him by Sirius, because the dog sits in front of the guard and thumps its heavy tail on the floor. The sound ricochets against the glass encasings. It moves so much how Sirius moves it creates the most disconcerting split in Remus’ thoughts.

The dog barks, the guard takes a shuddering step back, and Remus wrenches away from his thoughts. Has to be quick about it because if he’s caught they’ll have the both of them for doing magic in front of Muggles. It’s more than just his research on the line.

(He can’t decide if Sirius is to be admired in this moment or condemned for his brashness, because terrorising a Muggle while in his animagus form is bad enough, even if it weren’t coming from a convict on probation).

Remus crouches behind the encasing holding the scroll. There is a napkin in his pocket which he transfigures into a replica. His concentration wavers, wanes, each time he hears the dog bark or whine. It can’t be long until the backup comes for the guard and Remus is in direct line of vision of the door.

Hieroglyphics appear on his remade parchment, line by line. He’s not going to have the time to double check they are correct. Wishes he could just take a photo, but there are “no photography” signs everywhere and anyway he left his camera at the hotel.

There is a harsh, sudden sound of a crack. The dog whines. It sounds like pain. Remus feels the anger at it in his teeth and rushes through the last line of the symbols. He’s already walking towards the guard as he takes off his belt and transfigures it into a collar and leash.

The guard raises a heavy black baton above his head and the dog just sits there, not doing anything to retaliate, belly to the ground.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

The guard halts, but sneers at Remus like he’s vermin. (It’s a look he’s accustomed to – the Registry office, the full moon facilities, some of his colleagues who don’t fancy him much.)

“Stray dog. They’re a problem. Wondering in like this. They piss on the displays.”

“Does that look like a stray to you? He’s mine.”

The dogs tail wags faintly against the floor. He’s still lying down.

“Heel,” Remus says, not taking his eyes of the guard.

They could be in big trouble here. He’s got what looks like a stolen exhibit in his pocket, and has apparently let his dog run loose around a public space. The way the guard looks between him and the dog is putting Remus on edge, but he can’t show it – if the guard thinks he’s in the right they might get out of this unscathed.

The dog gets up and, limping ever so slightly, crosses to sit at Remus’ feet. The limp, the glint of the baton – it unlocks something in Remus.

“Have to keep dog leashed,” the guard says, “don’t see you with it.”

Remus puts the collar around the dogs neck. Its fur is the same as Sirius’ hair, coarse where it should be smooth, thick and lovely. “You see me with it now,” he clips on the lead, “there. No more problem.”

The dog nuzzles into Remus’ palm. He runs it over its head, soothing, gentle. Thinks of the limp.

“You really shouldn’t hit dogs, you know,” he says with the approaching full moon pushing the words. “Strays bite. Just a friendly warning.”

There’s nothing friendly, and they both know it. The guard swallows, visibly, sheathes his baton. Looks at the dog like it could pounce but looks at Remus like he is the threat.

The dog is in step with him all the way out of the Museum. He really walks very well on a leash.

***

“Did you get it?” Sirius asks the moment he’s himself again, over Remus’ statement-question “you’re an animagus?”

It’s exhilarating, now they’re out of the Museum and away from the danger of getting caught. Sirius laughs, head thrown back, and its as bark-like as always and Remus thinks I see.

It makes sense really, with Sirius’ puppy dog eyes and his unrelenting love for his family. With the way animals flock to him like they recognise on of their own. With the way he is, playful and rash – and impatient, reactionary, impulsive.

And so achingly lovely in his unguarded happiness.

It’s not apparent that even transformed, he’s still limping, not until they get to their hotel room.

Remus is exhausted – from the moon encroaching onto him, from the stress. The stint in the Museum was the more reckless thing he’s done since he can remember. That’s not what he’s like. Remus has spent his life cultivating who he is, a person fit for society – deserving to be part of society. Obeying the laws an authority figures. Not threatening guards.

There’s a large, comfortable looking bed in the middle of the sunlit room. Remus aches to spread his bones out and let them sink into the mattress.

“I’d say I’ll take the sofa but there doesn’t seem to be one,” Sirius sounds playful about it, and Remus didn’t even notice there was only one bed (of course there is only one bed.)

“It’s big enough. We can share.”

“Don’t want me to check with the reception?”

“He said it was the only room they had left. There’s no point. And to be honest,” Remus sits on the edge of the bed, and it sinks underneath him, moulds into him, and it’s already so comfortable he might cry, “I just want to sleep.”

“As you wish, Professor.”

Their things had been sent up to the room already. They both change. Sirius takes a long, steamy shower. Even through the closed door, Remus can smell the body potions Sirius uses, the hot water as it hits overheated skin.

The images come the way they do to the wolf, in the scant things he remembers. They’re built upon the smell and the sounds, extrapolated from what he knows and what he feels. An instinct to understand.

He hears the water rushing, wild like a waterfall, and it’s simple: it would roll down skin, down the black of tattoos and the unlined paleness. Catch on edges, fill out divots of collarbones and hips. The smell of lavender rises above the heat. Sirius must lather it into himself, hands on calves and thighs. He doesn’t strike Remus as someone who’d be perfunctory with it; Sirius is many things (so many, many things), but not economical. Remus thinks he’d be leisurely, take his time, make it into something that feels good.

He deserves nothing but to feel good.

The way the baton flashed makes it through the images. The way the dog whimpered. The way Sirius limped. Remus has to sit on his hands to stop himself getting into the bathroom to check and to soothe and to help Sirius with the hurt.

Sirius comes out in just a towel, water still dripping off his hair and onto his shoulders. Remus thinks don’t do this to me, not today, not when my control is barely mine anymore.

“Oh, sorry, were you waiting on me?” Sirius asks, completely misinterpreting the way Remus sits on the bed where he left him, staring.

“Sure,” Remus responds because it’s easier than the alternative.

It’s not much later when they get into bed, side-by-side, and there is no awkwardness and no silence. It’s so natural it makes Remus’ anxiety peak because nothing ever comes easily and everything is always a convoluted mess, so why would this be different? Why should this be the first time he feels truly content?

And, if it is, then how is it fair that it’s here, by the side of this man that’s more a hurricane than a human, and not in the spaces where Remus worked and struggled to carve a slice of real life for himself? Instead, he gets this – a one night’s respite, fleeting a temporary and not at all his to have.

Sirius turns to him. They lay face to face. The near-full moon illuminates him. Remus wants to reach out and touch.

“How’s your leg?”

“It’ll be fine.”

“I can’t believe the bastard hit you,” Remus pauses, thinks, “actually, I can’t believe you’re an animagus.”

“Unregistered. Illegal.”

“Why?”

Sirius shrugs like it’s no big deal, “we were fifteen, James and I and Pete, when we learnt. Never gotten around to registering.”

Fifteen. Magic like that, at fifteen. “That’s amazing.”

“It’s pretty cool,” Sirius confidently misunderstands the meaning, “James calls the dog Padfoot. He’s a stag, and Wormy – Wormtail, that’s Peter – is a rat.”

“And James? He doesn’t have a silly nickname?”

“They’re not silly!” Sirius smacks him playfully on a shoulder and keeps his fingers there, tracing patterns into the duvet that’s over the both of them. “James is Prongs. Because of the antlers.”

They talk into the night, Sirius’ voice becoming low and raspy as sleep touches him. His hand, fingers, stay on Remus’ arm. At some point, over hours that feel like minutes, they slide down his bicep, across his elbow, to his wrist and they settle there, fingerprints against a pulse point.

NEXT PART

@tealeavesandtrash

@moon-girl88

@hoje--aqui

@cocoabutterandbooks

@onion-sliced-apples

@prancingpony42

@digital-kam

@remoonysiriusly

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#wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #marauders #dead gay wizards #fanfic #remus x sirius #marauders era #dunes and waters

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thegainingdesk · 2 years

Text

Role Model

Chapter 1 - The Interview

Ravi desperately tugged at his trousers, trying to get them to close. His shirt bunched up at his shoulders and sat open to reveal a carpet of hair. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, this can't be happening," he said to the room.

"You okay?" Steven called through the open door. Ravi heard footsteps and Steven stook his head through.

"They don't fit," Ravi gestured down at himself and collapsed down on the bed.

"Oh. Well no, it doesn't seem to, umm," Steven cleared his throat. "Why do they need to?"

"My placement interview. I haven't had to wear anything smart for ages and I just sort of assumed they'd be okay," Ravi explained.

"Oh fuck. Oh fuck. For that nuclear place? Fuck! No, no, listen, right, Jason will have something that I bet will fit, because he's put on-" Simon caught himself. "Because he's about your size, I reckon. And he had his interview not long ago, so he'll have something."

Ravi noticed the almost-comment on his recent weight gain, but chose to ignore it. "Nope. Thought of that. He's away until Monday," he said, head buried in his hands.

Simon had already left the room. "He left his door unlocked though," he called through. "He never locks it." Ravi looked up, hope swelling in his chest. "He won't mind if you borrow something."

Ravi entered Jason's room to see Steven stood with the wardrobe open, pulling out a selection of shirts and trousers. "Oh my god, you beautiful, beautiful man! You've saved me, oh my god." Ravi quickly grasped Steven in a hug before picking up one of the shirts he'd pulled out.

Steven went red. "Oh, no, it's nothing really, just thought to check a door." Ravi wasn't paying attention to Steven's nervousness, already tugging down the trousers down his hairy thighs. "I'll umm, I'll leave you to it then," Steven said, leaving the room.

Ravi came into Steven's room a few minutes later, once again dejected. The shirt and trousers were buttoned closed now, but barely. The fabric of the shirt was straining, with a small gap of dark, hairy skin showing between the two buttons at his belly button, and Ravi walked awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable in the too tight clothes. "I can't actually be fatter than Jason can I?" Ravi asked, voice dejected.

Steven stared at Ravi's torso, unable to tear his eyes away. "I don't think you're umm… I think you're probably about the same size still, his placement interview was a couple of months ago now, so he could have put on a little weight since."

"Fuck. I always thought I was at least staying a bit slimmer than him," Ravi was looking down at his middle, rubbing his hands over the straining shirt.

Steven shifted in his seat uncomfortably, still unable to tear his eyes away from the larger man. "I wouldn't say that you're uh," he trailed off, and cleared his throat. "You know, it's not like you're actually, you know, or anything. Just put on a little weight. Stocky. Finding your adult body."

Ravi wasn't paying attention to Steven's discomfort, or the way he'd pulled his iPad over to his lap. "Fuck. I can't go like this, look at me." He poked the tight fabric around one of the straining buttons. "It's too hot to wear a jumper isn't it? I'll swelter."

Steven shook his head and took a deep breath. "It's fine," he told Ravi. "Really, it is. Look, if you put on a tie it'll cover up the buttons, we can use a tie clip to make sure it doesn't move. And a jacket will cover it a little. Can you sit down okay?"

Ravi hesitated, but slowly lowered down onto Steven's computer chair and groaned. "Just about. I feel like I'm getting cut in two." Steven could hear a slight strain to his voice, and did his best to ignore that the fat on Ravi's torso bulged even more as he sat.

"I think you're going to have to put up with it," Steven commiserated. "Just don't eat or drink anything, yeah? You're at your limit."

Ravi nodded and took a deep, steady breath. "Cheers mate. Really. I was freaking out there. This placement is perfect for me."

"Which is why you're going to get it! There's no-one else on the course that can say they've done the exact type of modeling they need." Steven walked over to Ravi and slapped him on the shoulder, before offering him a hand and heaving him up. "When is it?"

"I'm leaving in 20 minutes," Ravi said, unbuttoning his trousers and the top button of his shirt to give him some temporary relief.

"Fucking hell Rav! Give yourself a bit of prep time in future, yeah? Maybe give yourself a bit of time to get some new trousers if you need them."

"I know, I know. Lucky that Jason's a fat bastard too, eh?" Ravi joked and slapped his thick middle.

Steven gave a nervous laugh and ushered Ravi out the room. Once he was alone he let out a long, shuddering exhale and sank down onto his bed, fingers unbuttoning his trousers.

Ravi arrived at the swanky offices to find the other interviewees, most of whom he recognised from his uni course, sat with a woman with short, blue hair and a colourful, cartoon dress. "Ravi?" she asked as he approached. "Heather, we spoke on the phone. I'll be looking after you today." Ravi hoped he imagined the way her eyes flicked down to his shirt before widening a little. "I think that's everyone now, we can go up a touch early and get you all settled."

As Heather led the way, she explained the way the day would work. Ravi only half-listened, having read all of this in the email going over the day. He instead looked around at the other candidates. From what he knew of them, he was the best engineer of the bunch, and he'd already done several projects on the type of nuclear reactors that got developed at the company, but he noticed that all of them were dressed far sharper than he was, with swish suits and crisp shirts that seemed to fit them all perfectly.

"And this is where you're going to be based for the day!" Heather announced, gesturing around a conference room. "Help yourself to coffees and teas, and there's some snacks over there, biscuits, donuts, flapjacks, a bit of fruit. We'll bring you lunch at one and I'll come collect you all when we're ready for you." She raised her arm to wave as she left the room. "Good luck guys!"

The other candidates moved to make themselves coffee, while Ravi stared at the plate of donuts and biscuits. He remembered Steven's advice about not eating, as he drummed his fingers against his stomach, but he'd skipped breakfast, and his stomach was rumbling now. One couldn't hurt, he told himself, collecting a few biscuits and hesitating, before grabbing a donut as well and moving to one of the chairs. After all, he wouldn't interview very well if he was hungry. He sat down with a grunt and picked up the first biscuit, telling himself to eat it slowly, as he put the whole thing in his mouth in one go.

"Oh, hi Ravi," Ade, a handsome man on his course, said as he sat down next to him.

"Ade! What are you doing here? I thought you were going for that aerospace placement?" Ravi asked.

Ade rolled his eyes. "Tom got it. His dad works there so he was always going to get it," Ade grumbled.

"Tall hot Tom?" Ravi asked.

Ade shook his head. "Short hot Tom."

"Damn, I'm sorry, that sucks," Ravi commiserated.

Ade shrugged his shoulders. "It's fine. It wasn't very well connected, it turns out." His eyes flicked down to Ravi's waist. "Are you okay? You look a bit… uncomfortable."

Ravi shifted in his seat, fingers working their way around his waistline as he tried to stop it biting into his hips and the flesh around the bottom of his burgeoning belly. "Yeah, no, I'm fine. Clothes are just a bit tight really. You can't tell can you?"

Ade hesitated. "Not at all," he lied. "You look fine."

Heather walked in at that moment. "Ade, you've got your technical task now, and Ravi, you've got your interview."

Ravi quickly swallowed the biscuit he was eating and shoved his donut in his mouth, licking his fingers. He stood up with a slight grunt, and gave a thumbs up to Ade who returned it with a smile. "Good luck!" he told Ade. Ade turned back, but didn't reply.

The interview had gone well, Ravi thought, although he had noticed about 10 minutes in that he still had some powdered sugar from his donut down his front and had to try and discreetly brush it off. He was waiting for his technical task, which according to the schedule he was supposed to have last, at the very end of the day. He'd stretched his legs out and leaned back into his chair, attempting to get relief from the constant irritation of his clothes. He'd even allowed himself to take off his tie and undo his top button, where a mark now sat on his neck.

He was now sat watching the other candidates eat lunch, avoiding going too close to stop himself giving in to temptation.

Ade gestured at the platters. "You go ahead, I'm not eating. The guy that did the technical task said the company's got way too much money, I guess they spend it all on food."

Ravi hesitated before shaking his head, his fingers tracing some of the sorer sections of skin. "I shouldn't. I had a big breakfast."

"Jesus fuck this is a good sandwich though!" Brian, one of the other guys on Ravi's course, practically shouted.

Ravi edged closer to the platter of food. "I guess I should eat lunch really," he reasoned, speaking to no one in particular. "Brain food and all that." He picked up a sandwich and bit into it. It really was a good sandwich, with lots of pastrami and emmental, on a salty rye bread and with pickles throughout. Ravi moaned as he took another bite.

An hour later Ravi stood in the bathroom mirror, staring at the slivers of flesh that were now showing between each button. Giving up on doing up his top button again, he put on his tie, hoping it would disguise the undone button, and went back to the conference room, finding it empty, everyone else having finished their interviews.

He noticed that there was one uneaten sandwich still on the platter and shrugged to himself, finding even this small movement caused his shirt to bunch up uncomfortably now. By this point, he told himself, this shirt was obviously already too small, what was a sandwich going to hurt? He bit into it, savouring the flavours, wondering if the company lunches were always this good. He opted to stand while he waited, unsure about how well his clothes would stand to the strain of sitting down.

Eventually, Heather came to collect him for the final portion of the day, and led him to a room. He immediately felt less self-conscious about his clothes - the man running the technical portion of the task was huge.

His shirt was pulled tight by a soft, pillowy gut spilling out onto his thick thighs, while the outline of two breasts pushed out just above the crest of his gut. Dark, unkempt stubble covered a jowly face and double chin. "Tony," he greeted Ravi in a thick yorkshire accent, standing up with visible effort and offering his hand. "You'll be working with me if you get the place, I'm heading up the project we're recruiting for."

Ravi accepted Tony's hand, introducing himself, and Tony collapsed back into his chair, creaking filling the room. Ravi gingerly lowered himself into his own chair.

"Right, just to be clear, I'm only going to let people onto my team if they know their stuff, alright? I'm not carrying some lazy student. Don't try and blag your answers. If you don't know something, tell me how you'd work it out," Tony told Ravi. Ravi nodded, slightly taken aback at Tony's bluntness. "Right, you'll have one of those, won't you?" he said, pointing at a tray of pastries and donuts before picking one up and taking a bite, a shower of pastry flakes and sugar falling to join the covering that already sat on the shelf of his stomach. "All your uni mates turned them down. Probably too concerned about their figures." Despite this, there was clearly roughly half the tray missing.

If anything, Ravi felt confident after Tony's warning - he did know his stuff, better than his course mates at least. Despite his shirt feeling like it was about to explode, he reached out and took a pastry covered in chocolate and a donut, sensing that this was some form of initiation. "Good lad!" Tony called across the table, leaning back with a smile and drumming his fingers on his gut.

Ravi answered all of Tony's questions with ease, being familiar with the style of nuclear reactor the company researched and developed. Tony even seemed impressed when Ravi suggested a few minor modifications that could be made to the standard design, discussing his ideas behind each. Ravi periodically took a new pastry, which seemed to win Tony over each time.

Half an hour later, Tony grinned and congratulated Ravi on his answers, before slapping his knees and slowly standing, offering his hand to Ravi to shake. Ravi tensed his middle to stand up and -

"You tore your shirt?" Steven asked incredulously. "Like the buttons popped off? Like, in a story?"

Ravi shook his head confusedly. "What story? No, the seams at the side, see?" He twisted to show Steven, tearing the hole even wider in the process. "Oh fuck. Can you help me get this off?" He began to unbutton the shirt and Steven stood behind him to peel it off his arms.

"How did the interviewer react?" Steven asked, Ravi successfully extracted. Steven stood gripping the ruined shirt, knuckles almost white.

"That's the weird thing!" Ravi said, standing in just his trousers, the zipper pushed apart by his fat. "It made him seem to like me more! He just laughed and told me it 'happens to the best of us', like it's some daily occurrence or something."

"Still, you got the placement, that's the main thing," Steven pointed out.

"Yeah. That Ade from the course got a place too actually."

"Well that's nice," Steven said. "Here," he opened the fridge and offered Ravi a beer. "You deserve this I reckon. A curry too, to celebrate."

Ravi nodded. "Let me get these trousers off first though."

An hour and a half later, the two housemates sat watching a movie, the table in front of them covered in a selection of Indian food, and Ravi now in pyjamas.

"I need to lose some fucking weight," Ravi moaned in between bites, and slapped the paunch that bloated out in front of him. "Look at this thing! I used to have a 30 inch waist when I came to uni!"

Steven looked across at Ravi. "It's just because you've just eaten though. You're bloated." He paused. "What size trousers do you wear now then?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Ravi scoffed. "Well those ones of Jason's today were 34s, and I managed not to burst out of those at least, so probably 36s." He looked down at himself. "I've got to lose some weight," he repeated to himself, quietly this time.

Steven tried to diffuse the mood. "Hey man, fuck it, it's second year, everyone puts on a little weight at uni, right?"

"You haven't," Ravi pointed out.

"And just think about next year!" Steven continued, ignoring Ravi. "It'll be great! All three of us on great placements at great companies, all living together."

"Yeah, yeah, I think you're right you know," Ravi replied, forgetting his earlier worries and grabbing some more food to pile on his plate. "Next year's going to be so good. And who cares if I've put on a little weight, right?" He lifted up his t-shirt and jiggled his small belly to emphasise his point. Steven smiled and shifted uncomfortably, pulling a pillow over his lap.

Chapter 2 - The First Day

Ravi and Ade at in Heather's office, thoroughly bored. They'd spent the morning filling out forms and going through various HR and safety briefings, and even the studious Ade was beginning to find it difficult to stay awake.

Ravi was disappointed to find out that the endless stream of food provided at the interview was just to attract candidates and wouldn't be a daily occurrence. Still, he was happy he'd opted to but the roomier 38 inch trousers when he'd bought new office-appropriate attire earlier that week, as he was sure that the pinch he'd felt when he'd tried on the 36s would have become unbearable after this long sat down, even if he hadn't eaten.

Ravi had felt self-conscious ever since arriving that day. Despite his clothes now fitting (he cringed, remembering his interview), he felt like a blob next to Ade's broad shoulders and small waist, with biceps straining against a smart and stylish shirt. Meanwhile, Ravi's weight had only climbed higher over the summer, his small paunch now pressing out obviously no matter what he wore.

"You about done then Heather?" Ravi heard a gruff northern voice behind him say. He turned around to see Tony stood, his soft and saggy gut barely contained by his shirt. Ravi couldn't be sure, but he thought he might not have been the only one to have put some weight on over the summer, as Tony's shirt was looking tight.

"Almost Tony," Heather smiled a little nervously. "I was just telling them about the company's current health drive and then I'm done." She turned back to them and handed each a small booklet, which they added to the rest of the paper they'd been given. "As part of our recent initiative to keep everyone happy, healthy and productive, we've replaced all the biscuits with fresh fruit in the main break room, and the company has organised a deal with a gym that's just a short walk from here, where every-"

"No one remembers all this stuff anyway Heather," Tony interrupted. "Come on lads, let's get to lunch."

The two stood, Ravi excited to hear that he was getting rewarded for his excruciatingly boring morning with food. "Well actually I was interested to hear about-" Ade began to say.

"It'll all be in an email. Or the employee handbook. Or somewhere else you'll never look. Come on." Tony started to lead them out the door. "Cheers Heather!" he called to the flustered woman. "Right you two, this company's got more bloody government funding than it knows what to do with, so on everyone's first day they get taken to lunch for far too much money. Still, it won't get used otherwise so I'm not complaining. You two keeping up?" he asked, turning to look at them. Ravi thought it would be difficult not to keep up with the large man's slow pace. "So I'm taking you to a slap up restaurant and you'll order more than you think you can eat."

"Oh, I'll probably just get a salad," Ade explained. "I'm on a diet where I restrict calories during certain-"

"Then you eat your salad and us two will eat everything else that we'll say is getting claimed for you, eh?" Ravi felt a shiver of excitement at the large man lumping Ravi in the same category as him that he couldn't explain. He told himself that he was just excited to be making a better impression on his boss.

They arrived at a restaurant that Ravi knew he'd never otherwise be able to afford, and got seated. "Bloody fancy restaurants with their bloody rickety chairs," Tony grumbled as he sat down.

They sat quietly for a while, pouring over the menu. Ade set his menu aside after a minute or so and sat with a tight-lipped smile while Ravi and Tony didn't look up from their own menus for quite some time. Just the descriptions of the dishes made Ravi's mouth water.

"Made your minds up lads?" Tony asked.

"Like I said-" Ade started.

"A salad, I know, I know." Tony turned to Ravi, a twinkle in his eye. "What about you then?" Just like at his interview, Ravi felt like he was being subtly challenged, but to what he wasn't sure.

"God, there's so much that looks good. The pork belly maybe. The moussaka looks great too."

"Get them both then, it's none of us that's paying," Tony insisted. "Choose two or three starters and sides while you're looking as well, you can't eat like this every day." Ravi thought that Tony might, in fact, eat like this every day.

They ordered, and their starters arrived shortly after, covering the table. Ravi was quietly thankful that Tony had insisted he order a few, as the portion sizes were small and he found himself looking forward to his mains. Despite being intent on his food, Tony clearly made an effort to speak to them both, asking about their university course and their interests outside of their degrees, and in return told them about the company and the team they were joining. Past his somewhat grumpy exterior, Ravi was warming to Tony, realising that he was just impatient and easily annoyed when things weren't being done in what he saw as the right way.

Halfway through his second main, Ravi began to slow the pace of his eating. The food was delicious, but rich, and he felt like there was a ball of lead in his stomach. Still, he soldiered on, unable to shake the fact that he was impressing Tony somehow. And indeed, as the meal went on, Tony seemed to become friendlier with Ravi, while Ade barely interacted with him, clearly bored of the extended meal.

Finally, Ravi put down his fork, breathing heavily and sweat dripping down his back and under his arms. He didn't know the last time he was this full, and his new clothes were already feeling just a touch tighter than was comfortable.

Tony meanwhile was coping far better with the feast he'd just consumed, but it was clear that he was more sluggish than before. Ravi had watched with fascination as the older man's gut had risen like dough throughout lunch, transforming from a thick apron of fat into a soft ball that sat in his lap.

Tony slowly raised his arm to get the attention of a waiter. "They've got this chocolate tart you'll love lad. Nothing like it." Ravi's eyes went wide. He wasn't sure how much more he could eat. Still, he just nodded with a small smile at Tony, even when Ade announced he didn't want dessert, giving him the perfect out.

"Right, this is us," Tony explained, showing them into a large open plan office. The walk back from lunch had been significantly slower than the walk to the restaurant, and it was now late afternoon. "Every team has its own individual space, so everyone here you'll be working with. There's meeting rooms over there," he pointed to an entire side of the room, sided in glass, "and individual working rooms over there if you need them," he pointed to another row of doors. "And this," he spread his arms a little, clearly feeling that this was the highlight of the short office tour, "is the office kitchen. We're not doing that bloody health initiative up here, so there's actual food available, don't worry. Help yourselves to biscuits, coffees, teas. I try to make sure there's usually some cakes or donuts or something most days. I actually want to thank my team, not starve them."

Ravi was thrilled to find that Tony kept their department stocked with treats and snacks, unlike the rest of the company. Despite the large lunch, he followed Tony's lead in grabbing a slice of cake and idly eating it as they walked around the office getting introduced to everyone. Ravi noticed that unlike the rest of the company, which seemed to present a unified clean, put together face, it was clear that this department was more casual, with the suits that he'd seen others wearing done away with in favour of simple shirts and trousers. He gladly took his tie off once it was clear it wasn't needed. He also noticed that in general, most of the team was on the heavier side than most of the rest of the company, especially the men, most of whom had dad bods or beer bellies hanging over their belts. He wondered if the company's health push might be somewhat targeted.

Ravi and Ade spent the rest of the afternoon sorting out their desks. By the time 5 pm rolled around, Ade had a spotless desk and a custom filing system, while Ravi had a pile of stationary piled on top of the various bits of paper he'd been passed throughout the day. Ade was sat deligently making notes on a project brief Tony had given them ("Don't bother looking at it today! First day's always a write-off anyway."), and would occasionally shoot a dirty look across at Ravi whenever he would let out a small burp, or his stomach would let out a loud gurgle. Ravi didn't pay these looks any mind, feeling far too tired and warm while he digested to really notice. Leaning back in his chair with sunlight streaming through the large windows, he felt like a python basking on a warm rock while it digested a particularly large meal. He didn't quite understand why he had such a persistent erection, but was too tired to really question it.

"All they do is eat all day!" Jason cried. "It's like all an office job is, is being bored all day and eating to relieve the boredom."

Steven nodded. "It's the same at mine. They debated about what the best biscuit is for about an hour."

"Golden Crunch Creams," Ravi said. "Best biscuit in the world." He drummed his fingers against his stomach, which had shrunk down a little from his earlier bloat. "I don't know, there's something going on at my placement. Like the manager actively encourages everyone to eat all day." He paused, hesitant to carry on, but unsure why. "He seemed almost impressed with how much I ate at lunch. And everyone's a bit fat. He's the biggest though. I don't know, it's like he's some kind of feeder."

"A what?" Steven asked nervously. "I'm not sure I know that word."

"Someone that likes to feed other people," Jason explained, shaking his head. "Context clues, yeah buddy?"

Steven laughed shakily. Ravi had noticed that Steven was always a little jumpy whenever anyone brought up gaining weight. He knew his family were all thin, so he wondered if Steven felt a lot of pressure to stay in shape. He shook his head, feeling sorry for him.

"Anyway, I'm too tired to cook, shall we order pizzas?" Jason suggested.

Ravi pressed his fingers lightly into his growing belly, feeling the soft layer of fat covering the taut, stretched stomach. "Yeah," he said quietly, "go on then."

Chapter 3 - The Christmas Party

While never reaching the excesses of that first lunch, Ravi was surprised at the sheer amount that Tony encouraged the team to eat throughout each day. Multiple boxes of sweet treats would appear each morning in the kitchen, and Tony would offer them round the office if they hadn't disappeared by the afternoon. Most would refuse, citing diets and growing waistlines, patting their slight paunches, and so inevitably Tony would end up at Ravi's desk, pushing a small pile of pastries, cakes and donuts towards him, usually without asking, making comments that "at least someone knows how to eat properly." Inevitably Ravi's cock would bounce in his increasingly tight trousers at these comments, and after stuffing all of the items into his mouth he would quietly slink down the corridor to the toilet, where he'd lock himself into a stall and fish his cock out, hand pumping madly. As he'd gingerly wipe himself clean afterwards, belly hair sticky, confusion and shame would rise in his chest, which would soon get forgotten about as his tongue would find a small missed crumb stuck on his lips, and he'd wander back to the office wondering if there were any biscuits left in the cupboards.

Ravi's favourite day of the week was Friday. While he knew Steven's and Jason's offices had traditions of bringing in cakes at the end of the week, that would be basically redundant under Tony's fattening regime. Instead, Tony had come up with Fromage Fridays a few years ago, bringing in huge cheese platters in the morning, so that most Friday afternoons would be spent with most people milling around the kitchen, grabbing bites of brie and goats cheese, before heading to the pub. On top of a day's worth of eating and several pints, Ravi would without fail get a greasy kebab or pizza on the way home, stuffing it greedily into his mouth, sauce dripping down onto his straining shirt, while one hand would lazily snake down his trousers as soon as he was back in his room.

Despite the company's health initiative, Ravi still found that the lunches provided in the cafeteria to be far richer and more filling than if he'd had to go out to buy a meal deal. He was quickly growing close to the rest of the team, who were all friendly and keen to get to know him. He noticed that many of them who turned down Tony's offers of sweets often indulged in a large lunch themselves, unable to resist, and maybe explaining why their dad bods weren't going away despite their supposed diets. Ravi was grateful that Tony sat to each lunch with the team, rather than with the other managers, and he quickly got to know the large man. The same couldn't be said for Ade, who would move to a new table each day with a salad brought from home, insisting upon Ravi the importance of networking.

"It's all one company," Ravi said one day. "Who can you realistically network with?"

Ade chuckled and shook his head. "Everyone here has a STEM degree. They all know people, who know people, who know hedge fund managers. It's not what you know Ravi, it's who you know."

Still, Ravi felt that what he knew was helping him out a lot more than who Ade knew, as Tony was consistently impressed with his work, and sent a glowing report back to the university towards Christmas, when the university term would be finishing.

The result of all this gluttony was that Ravi had once again bought a whole new set of clothes, and he realised with some dismay, these were getting uncomfortably tight themselves by the time Christmas rolled around. Whereas before he felt a lot of his gained weight had just filled him out, swelling his skinny adolescent body into the thick body of an adult, he now undeniably had a gut. Almost all of the weight he'd gained since starting his placement had gone straight to his middle, and he now had an almost perfectly spherical hairy ball gut at his centre, almost the same shape as a pregnant woman's, hovering above his waistline without any give or slack. He was starting to find the way it refused to squash or move to get in the way of basic tasks like tying his shoelaces, pushing back against him when he tried to lean down, to be utterly, irresistibly arousing.

Ravi sat at one of the tables at the edge of the dancefloor, nursing a pint. It was the office Christmas party, and he was wearing a jumper covered in Christmas trees, stretched tight over his new belly.

Tony settled down next to him, grunting as he sank into the seat, and put a plate piled high with food down on the table. The chair creaked ominously, and Tony froze for a moment. "One of these collapsed under me a few months ago." Tony explained. "I keep on telling them they need at least a couple of stronger chairs for the not so dainty among us, eh lad?"

Ravi laughed nervously, not sure how to feel that Tony was putting the two of them in the same category. It made him feel oddly proud, almost mature, like Tony had identified him as an equal, even if it was only due to his increasing weight. "Not quite in chair breaking territory yet Tony," he said eventually, giving an unsure slap to his belly, like he'd seen Tony do so often to emphasise a point.

Tony laughed. "I don't suppose you are lad! Don't worry, you'll get there." What the [I]fuck[/I] was that supposed to mean. Ravi laughed nervously again and shifted to hide his growing erection. "You not eating lad?"

"Oh, I've already grabbed some food."

"So? Go get some more. God knows none of these lot will be eating it." Ravi half-smiled in acknowledgement at the suggestion, and carried on drinking his pint. "Well? Go on, I'll keep your pint safe, get a plate," Tony ordered.

Realising Tony wasn't joking or just being friendly, Ravi quickly went to pile a plate high with food. He didn't quite understand the hold Tony had on him, but he found himself unable to resist the older man's every suggestion. Equally, he didn't know why Tony seemed to gravitate towards him, seeking him out at almost every opportunity.

Ravi got back to the table and immediately dug in. "Good lad," Tony said between his own mouthfuls, and Ravi again found himself growing hard.

They ate in silence for a while, before Ravi realised he should say something. "I'm really enjoying it here," he settled on.

Tony continued to chew for almost a full minute before swallowing and replying. "You're doing well lad. Fitting in alright, and your work's bloody good for someone that's still working at getting their degree." Ravi felt a swell of pride and sped up the rate he was eating at, keen not to let Tony down. "Not like that one anyway," he nodded towards Ade, shmoozing with a group of the higher ups.

"He'll be networking," Ravi chipped in around a chicken drumstick.

"Hmm, net's the only type of bloody work he's done since he got here. It's like he's not interested," Tony grumbled.

Ravi shook his head. "I don't think he's bothered about the work really. He wants to go into finance," he said by way of explanation.

"I bloody bet he does! And I never see him bloody eat owt either. Can't trust a man who doesn't eat properly, that's what I say," Tony said, perhaps a little too loudly. By way of response, Ravi took an enormous bite of potato salad.

As if he'd heard them, Ade started to walk over to Tony and Ravi's table. "We should go soon, people are starting to arrive for that uni drinks thing," Ade said. "If you're finished eating that is," he added bitchily.

"Give him a chance!" Tony barked, wiping some hummus off his plate with a large piece of bread. "You can't expect the boy to go out drinking without having eaten anything, can you?"

Ravi nodded, forcing the rest of his food down at a faster rate, before standing up unsteadily, his stomach overly full. He tried to pull his Christmas jumper down but it kept on riding up. "Right, I think I'm," he burped and Ade wrinkled his nose, "ready to go. Cheers Tony, have a good Christmas."

"You too lad! Don't get too drunk tonight, will you?"

Ravi and Ade left and got in a taxi. The ride was basically silent, which suited Ravi fine as he was busy rubbing his stuffed belly. He kept on shifting uncomfortably, and tried to hide a continuous stream of burps. When they arrived, Ade leapt out of the taxi and went into the bar without waiting for Ravi, who made his way much more slowly.

It was obvious that Ravi and Ade were some of the last to arrive, everyone else already clearly drunk. Ravi wove his way through the crowd, more difficult with his increasing girth, and found Jason and Steven.

"Eyyyy!" Jason cried as he saw Ravi. "It's the big man!" He patted Ravi's side. "Drink mate? Drink. I'm going to get a drink. Who else wants a drink?" He stumbled off to the bar, leaving Ravi with Steven, who stood in place, swaying slightly.

Steven mumbled something, eyes fixed somewhere around Ravi's middle. Ravi assumed he might have been trying to focus on something to keep him upright, or to stop from being sick. "What was that?" Ravi asked.

Steven's eyes lazily rose to meet Ravi's and he leaned in, stumbling so that he fell into Ravi's gut. He made no motion to stand up, and Ravi ended up supporting. "Big man," Steven slurred, repeating Jason's words from earlier.

Ravi laughed. "That's right mate! I've gotten pretty fucking fat recently, haven't I? I'm glad you haven't gotten so drunk that you can't see obvious shit."

Steven's face broke into a grin, mere inches away from Ravi's. "Fucking fat," he mumbled.

"Yeah, let's get you say down shall we?" Ravi slung an arm around Steven and maneovered him to a nearby seat. Just as they sat down, Jason appeared with pints for each of them. "I don't reckon he'll be needing his," Ravi told Jason, nodding his head towards Steven, now slumped in his chair, head resting against Ravi's chest. Ravi suspected he might be drooling a little.

"Perfect!" Jason said. "More for me!" He picked up Steven's ex-pint and chugged it down.

Ravi sighed. "I'm going to have to be in charge of you two tonight, aren't I?" He asked wearily.

"Yep!" Jason said cheerfully. Before taking a mouthful of his own pint.

Ravi felt Steven shift slightly and pushed him away, seating him by himself so that he was precariously balanced. Steven's mouth began to move, half-forming words.

"Like a story…" Steven mumbled.

Ravi laughed. "Like what story Steve? One about getting too drunk?" he asked.

Steve shook his head and mumbled something. Ravi could just about make out the word "builders".

"A story about builders! Very exciting." Ravi looked over at Jason and laughed.

Steven patted Ravi's stomach and slurred something that sounded like "gay" or maybe "gain".

"Ah, right," Ravi said. "Gay builders, got it." He turned to Jason. "I reckon he needs to get home."

"Mate, no, come on!" Jason protested.

"You can stay here, but I'm going to go with him," Ravi told him.

"What? No. You've just got here!" Jason said.

"Look at him mate, he's going to end up on the floor," Ravi said, gesturing towards Steven, his head slumped down to his chest.

Jason shrugged. "Fine, fine. We'll have to do a proper night out at some point though, yeah?"

"Yeah, fine, whatever. Just help me get him up, alright?"

Together the two took Steven outside, and Jason went back in as Ravi held him up while he ordered a ride. Once in, Steven collapsed against Ravi, both hands resting on his burgeoning gut. Ravi laughed. In Steven's drunkenness he'd started kneading his gut belly slightly, like a cat making biscuits. He'd have to make sure to make fun of him for it in the morning.

They got home, and Ravi helped Steven out of the car, thanking the driver profusely, and thanking god that Steven hadn't been sick. "Right, let's get you to bed," Ravi told Steven.

"Bed?" Steven asked quietly.

"Yes, we're getting you to bed," Ravi said patiently.

"You bed," Steven said, placing one hand of Ravi's chest.

"Yes, I'll go to bed in a bit too," Ravi reassured him.

"No," Steven said, stumbling up the stairs. "My bed."

Ravi laughed. It was like dealing with a toddler. "Yes, you'll go to your bed, I'll go to my bed."

Ravi helped Steven take his clothes off and put him to bed. Steven reached out and grabbed Ravi's hand.

"Ravi," Steven said quietly.

"Yeah?" Ravi asked

"Ravi," Steven repeated, a smile growing on his face. Ravi chuckled to himself and grabbed him a glass of water before leaving him alone.

Downstairs, Ravi grabbed a beer and looked to see what was in the fridge that he could eat.

Chapter 4 - The Project

Tony had called in the entire department for a meeting, and was detailing a massive new project. He'd ordered huge platters of food "to keep everyone focussed", but in reality most of it was going to Ravi and Tony, with a few others grazing here and there. Ravi felt like if anything all the food was making him less focussed, the heavy food making him drowsy, and he wondered how Tony managed to keep leading the meeting.

While many managers would present standing up, Tony steadfastly insisted on being sat down, citing a desire to improve conversation, but he'd confessed to Ravi that his feet just got tired after too long standing up, and have his usual knowing comment or nod to Ravi, implying he'd know all about that soon enough. Ravi studied Tony's body, the mammoth thighs, the gut that got accentuated as he sat down, the short, pudgy fingers. Tony had clearly put on weight recently, and while Ravi's own gain was much more obvious, he wondered whether he'd actually put on more, or if the weight was just more obvious on Ravi's smaller body. Ravi had absolutely ballooned recently, and new clothes started to feel constricting almost as soon as he'd bought them.

"... and I really am sorry, I am." Ravi shook his head to focus as he realised Tony was reaching the end of the meeting. "I'll be right there with you, but I reckon there'll be some late nights. I'll not force anyone, and I'll make sure you're fairly compensated, and I'll make sure you get fed, but ultimately that's the situation we're in."

There was some grumbling, but on the whole everyone showed willing, knowing that Tony wouldn't ask them if it wasn't necessary. The meeting slowly dispersed, but Ravi stayed to help Tony finish up the pile of snacks that always got ordered for any large meeting.

"Here, lad," Tony said after a while. "I won't blame you for sacking this project off. This is all extra, it won't impact your placement."

Ravi shook his head and hastily swallowed a mouthful of biscuits. "It sounds interesting. Really. It's what I'd like to do one day so I'd like to help however I can."

Tony nodded. "Right then. I'll talk to Grace about getting you up to speed with what we're looking at with the shielding." He strained to stand up, and walked slowly around the table to clap Ravi on the shoulder. "You're a good lad, lad," he said. Ravi smiled and blushed, unsure of what to say. Tony moved to leave the room. "Finish all this, won't you? I can't be bothered getting someone to clean it all up, and it'll just end up in the bin."

Ravi was left alone, looking at trays of food in front of him. Smiling, he slapped his belly, reveling in the way it rippled and shook, and grabbed a sandwich in each hand.

The start of the project heralded weeks of late nights, each one ending with Tony ordering enough food to feed them all twice over. Some would leave as the food arrived, wanting to get home, others would grab enough food to satiate themselves and run off, while a small group developed who would stay demolishing the food. Even this group would eventually leave, bloated and slowly growing, inevitably leaving just Tony and Ravi determinedly finishing the piles of greasy good.

Ravi didn't think it would be possible, but his growth accelerated. Ripples of fat became rolls which became folds. Thighs dimpled, arms shook, chins multiplied. The centre-peice, as ever, was Ravi's insatiable gut, expanding outwards, sagging down with its sheer, unyielding weight. Again and again, he would find himself weighed down beneath himself, breathing heavily, opposite Tony in much the same state. As soon as he was able to move, Ravi would shuffle off slowly to the bathroom, where he'd strain to reach his achingly hard cock, his arm maneuvering around his own enormous torso to relieve himself, an act that became more awkward by the day as he grew.

One night, after a particularly heavy work dinner of pizzas, Ravi stumbled home. As usual, Tony had ordered far too much food, and Ravi had ended up eating three whole pizzas to himself. He clutched his gurgling stomach and tried to breathe slowly to help himself digest.

"Hey man," Jason greeted him. "We were just about to order a Chinese. What do you want?"

Ravi stifled a burp. "No, it's fine, I've-" He belched. "I ate at work."

Steven shifted in his seat. "Come on," he insisted. "You'll just end up hungry by the time it arrives and I'm not letting you nick any of mine. Besides, it's been ages since we all ate dinner together."

Ravi pondered for a moment, his hand idly scratching at the patch of skin and hair showing underneath his shirt as it rode up. He couldn't really be considering eating, could he? He was already so stuffed. But he thought about the feeling of being stuffed beyond his limits, about how much he was enjoying getting bigger, about how Tony seemed so proud of his growing appetite and growing body. He nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, go on then. Add a crispy chilli beef for me."

Steven tapped on his phone. "I'll add some extra sides and stuff as well, so there's enough for all of us."

Ravi cleared his throat. "I'm not sure how much I'll…" His voice was barely audible and unconvincing.

"Ordered!" Steven said. "Right, shall I get us all a beer?"

A while later the three of them sat in front of the TV and a table full of empty containers. Steven had long finished, and sat with his head leant back and clutching his small bloat. Jason was hunched over his food, eyes occasionally flicking towards Ravi, and slowly, with tortured breaths, forced the last of his food in, eager to not be seen to be giving up.

Ravi leant back, his arms spread wide and his face bright red. His plate was balanced precariously on his gut, and while his stomach was uncomfortably tight, he still carried on eating mindlessly, having become accustomed to pushing in food far past his limit. Below his gut, his cock was hard as steel, and he hoped that his two housemates were either too full themselves to notice, or that his large gut might block their view.

Finally, after what seemed like an age, Ravi and Jason finished the last of the food, taking their last mouthful at the same time. Jason flopped back, his face pale and strained. Ravi felt incapable of leaning forward or moving much at all, so simply left his plate balanced on his spherical gut.

Ravi belched, and the sound rolled around the room. Steven turned his head lazily to look at him. "Fuck me…" he whispered, staring in awe at Ravi's bloated body.

Ravi grinned through his pained expression. "I might have overdone it a little bit, eh?" He attempted to massage his gut a little and winced at the additional pressure.

"You ate more than me," Jason said weakly in between strained breaths. "I thought you'd said you'd already eaten."

"Do you think I'm overdoing it?" Ravi asked, looking down at the rising dome of fat in front of him.

"No mate," Steven said quickly. "You're enjoying yourself. Plenty of time to worry about dieting when you're older, eh?"

"I guess," Ravi said, unsure. He turned to look at Steven. "Look at you though, eh? You almost ate as much as us two. You'll be as fat as us both soon enough."

Steven closed his eyes and let out a small groan. He took a few deep breaths before opening his eyes and answering. "God I hope not." He gave a weak chuckle. "One of us has got to stay slim, at least."

"I hope you're not lumping me in with him," Jason said, his hands splayed out on his beer belly. "He's got 50 pounds on me easily these days."

"I umm, I should go to bed," Steven said suddenly, straining to stand. "Big day tomorrow. Night you two," he said as he rushed out the room.

"I should go too," Ravi said, mustering the energy to move his plate onto the table and hoist himself up. "Got to give a chance for all this to digest."

"I don't know how you eat like this all the time man," Jason said, not making any effort to move. "I can barely move."

Ravi slapped his gut, and admired the way it shook. "You get used to it I suppose."

As Ravi grew, his gut maintained its large spherical shape, but was starting to become soft and sag down. A thick layer of fat now sat on top of it, which Ravi would find himself absentmindedly playing with while he was working. The fat had started to distribute more around his body as well, his limbs thickening with fat rapidly, and his face starting to take on the jowly look that was so familiar on Tony's face, complete with the start of a double chin.

After one particularly late night, Tony and Ravi sat alone, surrounded by empty pizza boxes. Everyone else had left earlier, but the two of them couldn't tear themselves away from leftover food, so had stayed far later. Ravi had come to enjoy these one-on-one moments with Tony, and was grateful for them, knowing that hardly anyone else had the opportunity to talk to him on a personal level so frequently.

"Right, you've got to get home lad," Tony said finally, slapping his thighs and standing up. "It's too bloody late."

"It's fine, it's fine, really, I enjoy the work," Ravi protested. Even so, he stood and moved across the office to his desk, where he bent down to pick up his bag and-

"Fuck!"

"Everything okay lad?"

"Yeah, don't worry it's just-"

Tony whistled as he saw the seat of Ravi's trousers split wide open, revealing his boxers. "I bet that's been a long time coming, eh? Those have been painted on you for weeks."

Ravi tried to ignore the implication that Tony had been looking at his trousers, and his arse, for weeks, as he fought against a stiffening penis. "I just can't afford to keep on buying new clothes every two months!" he said with a sigh.

Tony laughed. "I was exactly the same when I was your size, felt like I was putting on a pound a day sometimes." Ravi was confused by the casual way Tony talked about gaining weight, the way he'd compare the two of them, and his growing arousal. He picked up his bag to cover his crotch. "Here, what size do you wear?"

Ravi sighed. "God knows nowadays. 44 waist maybe? And at least a couple of Xs to keep the L on my shirts company." He could feel himself growing red. Why couldn't he control himself around food? Why did he seem to enjoy it so much?

"Right, don't keep on buying new clothes, I reckon I'll have something that will fit you tucked away somewhere. Sam likes to keep them around to see how they fit." Ravi raised an eyebrow at this. Why would Tony's wife keep old clothes around when it was obvious that he'd not fit back into them anytime soon? "They might be a bit out of fashion, but that's quite trendy these days isn't it? Bit retro."

Ravi was beyond grateful, and he arrived early the next day wearing a too small t-shirt and some sweatpants. Tony passed him a large bag of clothes, and he went to the toilets to change. He opened up the bag and pulled out a shirt and a pair of dark trousers, holding them up to check the size. He couldn't really be this size, could he? There seemed to be acres of fabric here. But sure enough, as he slipped them on, he found them to be a perfect fit. He thought back to just a year ago, when he'd been as trim as any of his mates, and was now twice the size of some of them.

He unbuttoned the trousers almost immediately as his arousal grew. Despite knowing Tony obviously must have been this size at some point, having this tangible evidence that he was following in the footsteps of his boss gave him an odd sense of pride. He reached around his gut, larger and rounder than ever, to pump at his achingly hard cock and before long, streams of cum were coating the underside of his heaving gut.

He sat in the stall for a while catching his breath, hands idly roaming the flesh he'd gained over the last few months. Some time later he regained his composure and stood shakily, returning to the office as a few more people arrived. He tried to grin and act normal, but found himself in the kitchen all morning, cleaning out the selection of snacks.

Chapter 5 - The Breakthrough

"This is brilliant. This is…" Tony had the reactor model that Ravi had been working on up on the screen. "How did you come up with this?" Tony asked Ravi after some time looking at the various aspects of the shielding.

"I just used the ideas that you wanted me to look at and played around with them a bit." Ravi explained. "Honestly, I just took what you had already and-"

"No," Tony cut Ravi off. "I'm not letting you be humble about this. You're taking full credit. I'm going to show this to the director today. This could save the company millions Ravi, completely revolutionise how we deal with some of the safety protocols. You should be proud." Tony was beaming with pride at Ravi at this point, and Ravi blushed, unused to much praise at all from the gruff man.

Tony struggled to his feet. The recent long nights had hit both of their waistlines hard, and Tony's gut now completely dominated his frame, a soft pillow of fat that hung over his waist and flowed to fill his shirts. Above it, the outline of two soft man-breasts could be seen sinking down into his armpits. Still, Ravi knew that he'd put on even more weight than the older man, and his own large orb of a belly now strained against even Tony's old shirts that he'd lent him. While Tony was still significantly heavier than him, Ravi was nervous about the trend that was emerging, and had even recently wondered if he'd ever get up to Tony's size, the idea sending a thrill up Ravi's spine and deep in his groin that he didn't understand.

"This," Tony accentuated the word by slapping his gut, sending ripples across his entire body, "calls for a celebration I think." He walked around the desk, his body bumping into each piece of furniture he passed, and slapped Ravi on the shoulder. Ravi wondered how much his own body jiggled like Tony's. "You've done bloody well lad, there's a lot of qualified engineers at this company paid too bloody much to do work not half as good as this. Dinner tonight I think." He looked around. "Don't tell that skinny mate of yours, eh? I'm thanking you, not Ade. He's spent more time networking than he has doing work." Tony walked off, and Ravi watched how he almost waddled, each thigh sliding past each other, and fat swaying from side to side with each step. He wondered if his own walk had changed, and if anyone had noticed.

Tony had left early, passing Ravi a slip of paper with an address on, and said something about organising dinner. He'd debated with Ravi (at him, really) about various restaurants they could go to, but ended up settling on inviting Ravi to his own house. "Sam's cooking's the best you'll have. And there'll be enough for us both, don't you worry." He slapped his huge gut to make his point. Ravi had heard enough about Tony's wife's cooking over the past few months to know he should be excited.

Later that night, Ravi stood outside a large townhouse and rung the doorbell, before being greeted by a man he'd not met. "Hi, I don't know if I've got the right house, sorry, I'm-"

"Ravi! Of course, of course! I'm Samir, Tony's husband. You can call me Sam," the man introduced himself. Ravi stayed on the doorway for a moment, completely shocked. He'd assumed that Sam was some doting housewife intent on feeding up her man. However, the Sam that stood in front of him was tall, easily 6 and a half feet tall, and almost completely bald, with a thick beard, a lean muscular body, and skin the same dark brown as Ravi's, wearing a shirt that showed off bulging arms.

Ravi realised he hadn't moved, and Sam still stood beckoning him through the doorway. He shuffled in and Sam took his jacket.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked. "You seem a little dazed."

"Sorry, no, I'm fine. It's just, well, if I'm honest, I wasn't actually expecting you to be, well, you know…" Ravi trailed off, embarrassed.

"A man?" Sam laughed. "Tony has a habit of flying under people's gaydars. I think it's the accent. Don't worry, it happens all the time. Right! This way! He can't stop talking about you, you know. Absolute wonder boy according to him."

Ravi didn't know if he was more shocked to find out Tony was gay or that his husband was so exuberant and cheerful, completely contrasting with his gruff manager. He was also confused about the contrast between their bodies - Sam could only be described as an absolute dilf, who clearly took care of his looks and went to the gym, whereas Tony was an absolute barge of a man, with scruffy stubble on a soft, jowly face.

Sam led Ravi through to an expensive looking kitchen, every surface covered with food, some cooked, some still being prepared. "Tony will be down in a second. There's some snacks on the table, help yourself. Can I get you a drink? Wine? Beer?"

Ravi nodded and grabbed a handful of crisps from the table. "A beer would be good, thanks." He looked around at all the food across the surfaces. "I didn't realise more people were coming."

Tony laughed as he walked in the room, his footsteps setting some wine glasses rattling and clinking against each other. "It's just us lad," he explained.

"Oh, the food, I assumed-"

"Don't you worry about all that, it'll all get put to good use."

Sam smiled. "I sometimes go a bit overboard when I'm cooking. I trained as a chef, so I like trying out new recipes if I get a willing audience." He handed Ravi his beer in a tall, elegant glass. "Don't worry if you don't want to eat too much, it'll all keep, we can send you off with some leftovers."

Tony laughed again. "No worries about that with this one," he slapped Ravi on his shoulder. "He's put away more than me a couple of times."

Ravi felt oddly proud at the comment. He rubbed his heavy gut through Tony's old shirt and smiled at Sam. "It all looks amazing."

"Let's get you two sat down then! I've got your first dish almost ready to come out, and I'm working on the second" Sam said, moving over to the oven and bending down to check its contents.

"Are you not joining us?" Ravi asked, a little confused.

"Oh, I'll be around, but I won't really eat. I tend to fill up just by tasting bits here and there as I go. I'll grab something if I get hungry, don't worry about me, you two enjoy yourselves."

Tony and Ravi sat down, and Tony raised his glass to Ravi. "To a bloody nuclear engineering genius!" Ravi bashfully joined in the toast.

Sam brought the first dish over, a huge rack of ribs, and set it down between them, quickly putting an enormous portion on each of their plates. The meat was delicious, some of the best Ravi had ever tasted. He ate it quickly, unable to slow down, and almost as soon as he was done, another plate was put down in front of him, piled high with buttery spiced potatoes and several chicken thighs in a spicy curry sauce.

It must have been hours later, when Ravi looked up from his plate to see Tony sat with his head tilted back, snoring gently. Ravi had grown used to the way that Tony's soft flab would rise like dough when he'd eaten a lot, but this was the most full he'd ever seen him, and his belly now sat in an enormous mound in front of him, riding high and heavy on his lap.

"Looks like you win," Sam said from behind him, placing yet another plate in front of him, some kind of fried dumpling.

"I bet that doesn't happen too often," Ravi said, his voice strained with the pressure of all the food in his gut.

"I don't remember the last time I saw anyone beat him. You must like eating," Sam took a seat next to Ravi and picked a dumpling up with his fingers.

"Oh yeah, the food was amazing, you're a great cook."

"Thank you. But that's not what I meant. It doesn't matter how good the food is, does it? You just like eating." Sam lifted up the dumpling to Ravi's lips and held it there, expectantly. Ravi hesitated before closing his eyes and opening his mouth, letting Sam push in the small doughy parcel. As he bit into it a mix of sweetness and saltiness exploded in his mouth at once and he moaned involuntarily.

"I guess," Ravi admitted. "I like the way food tastes. And how I feel after a good meal."

"And the effects?" Sam kept his voice light and casual, but laced every word with hidden meaning.

"I like to feel full," Ravi replied shakily.

"Oh you like more than just feeling full. Lots of people like feeling full," Sam said as he held another dumpling up to Ravi's mouth, who obediently took it. "You like feeling fat."

Ravi didn't say anything, he wasn't sure he could say anything. Instead he just sat and chewed, waiting for the next dumpling. His cock throbbed inside Sam's husband's old trousers.

"He can't stop talking about you, you know. Comes home every day talking about the wonder boy," Sam said, breaking the silence. He stood up and walked behind Ravi, picking up yet another dumpling and feeding him from behind.

"Oh, well umm," Ravi stuttered a little as he spoke, unsure what to say. "The project went really well and it was a team effort really."

Sam chuckled softly. "Oh I don't mean the engineering. He's proud of you, don't get me wrong. No, I mean, he can not stop talking about the boy that's come in and gained. All. This. Weight." He lightly patted the side of Ravi's gut as he said each of the words. "He's been coming home, asking me to cook more and more for him. I should thank you really, he hasn't been this excited about gaining in years." Ravi was about to ask what Sam meant by gaining. "He reached 400 pounds the other week. And he's not a very tall man. Can you imagine what that much weight feels like? I don't suppose you'll have to one day soon."

Ravi was silent. He didn't know what he could say. Sam filled the silence again. "And what about you? You must be closing in on 300 pounds, at least?"

"I haven't really weighed myself in a long time," Ravi said quietly, confused about the conversation and his own reaction to it. "It's not the kind of thing I'm that bothered by."

Sam pushed another dumpling into Ravi's mouth, before hooking his hands beneath his armpits, and smoothly, easily, raised him to his feet. "You sweet, oblivious boy. Come on then, follow me." Ravi staggered a little under the weight of the meal he'd just eaten, but obediently waddled after Sam up the stairs.

Sam stopped in a bathroom in front of a large, metal scales. "Hop on then," he ordered.

"I'm not really sure that I…" Ravi trailed off.

"Hop. On." Sam gave Ravi a gentle push and he relented. Sam bent down to check it for him, Ravi unable to see past the crest of his own body.

"308 pounds! Congratulations!" Sam said, a grin growing on his face. "The big three-oh-oh! I bet none of your little uni friends can say that can they?"

Ravi stared, dumbfounded. He had no idea he'd put on some much weight. "Well I've just had a big meal…"

Sam burst out laughing at this. "And how many people do you think weigh 308 pounds after a big meal? Do you think I would? Would your friends? How many people do you think could even eat as much as you have tonight? No, this is all you, Ravi," he placed his hands under Ravi's gut and shook it, setting it jiggling. "There's no need to be coy with me. Look at my husband. I know what you big boys like. I know what you want."

"And what's that?" Ravi asked shakily.

Sam leant in close and practically whispered. "You want to eat so fucking much." He leant back a little and smiled. "Do you feel absolutely stuffed Ravi?"

"I've eaten a lot, I feel really full, yeah," Ravi replied.

Sam shook his head. "That's not what I asked, is it Ravi? No, I asked you whether you were absolutely, unbearably, deliciously stuffed."

"No," Ravi replied quietly.

"No, what?" Sam's eyes were boring into his own.

Ravi took a deep breath. "Not yet."

"That's my boy!" Sam said softly. "Why don't you come with me?" He took Ravi's hand and led him back downstairs to the kitchen table where Tony still sat snoring softly.

"This," Sam said, approaching Ravi and holding a jug of thick brown liquid he'd fetched from the fridge, "is called a gainer shake. It's one of Tony's, but he won't miss it, don't worry. What do you think it does?"

"I don't know,' Ravi replied, his voice shaking.

"What does it do, Ravi?"

"It goes inside me," Ravi said, yearning for the promised feeling of fullness.

"Oh yes!" Sam said softly. "Oh yes, it'll certainly go inside you. But then, my little Ravi, what it will do, is make you fatter and fatter and fatter, and more full than you could possibly imagine." He laid a hand on the shelf of Ravi's stomach. "Would you like that Ravi?"

Ravi whimpered and nodded. Sam raised his chin with a single finger, and began to gently pour the mix down his throat, slowly so as not to overwhelm him. The shake was too thick, too sweet, too cold, to be truly enjoyable, but Ravi didn't really care. He only cared about swallowing the mixture, only cared what it would do to his body.

"There we go, that's a good boy, there we go," Sam cooed to Ravi. Ravi was unbearably, overwhelmingly full, but he couldn't stop. Each second the ecstasy of his stretching stomach grew.

Finally, the shake stopped trickling into his mouth, and Ravi squirmed in his seat, desperate for more. He panted, searching for oxygen to help his stomach digest. Sam gently massaged Ravi's gut.

"There's another jug in the fridge in the bedroom," Tony said, awake now and looking at Ravi. He heaved himself up, grunting as he did so, and made his slow way over to where Ravi was sat, almost immobilised by the leaden weight in his stomach. Tony leant over and whispered in his ear so that Ravi could feel the rough stubble rub against his cheek. "How about it lad? Will you drink another one of those shakes for me?"

Ravi could barely reply and simply gave a soft moan, full of desire. Tony grinned and turned to Sam. "You'll go get it, won't you love? I'm not making it up the stairs any time soon." He slapped his full gut.

As Sam ran upstairs, Tony turned back to Ravi. "This is what you've wanted all year, isn't it lad? Me and this fat gut feeding you bigger and bigger? When will you stop, do you think? Will you be able to? I thought I'd stop after the first 20 pounds, then 50, 100. 250 pounds later look at me." He spread his arms as if revealing a magic trick. "Will that be you boy? You've made a good start, but I think we'll need to push you on just a little further."

Sam was back now, and wasted no time in tilting Ravi's head back up. Despite being more full, Ravi managed to drink this one even faster, keen to impress Tony, who leant over him, whispering gentle encouragement in Ravi's ear. As he did so, his soft, warm flesh pushed into and enveloped Ravi's side, sending him wild and driving him onwards.

By the time the jug was finished, it was well past midnight. Ravi sat practically shaking from the exertion of pushing so much into his gut. He raised his arm to rub it gingerly, but even the gentlest touch caused him to wince in pain.

"Right then love," he heard Tony say to Sam. "I reckon we need to get this one in a taxi, what do you think? Mhm, these dumplings are amazing, are there any more?"

Ravi could hear them cleaning up around him, but couldn't even react. Instead they just moved around him, Tony's gut occasionally bumping into him. Eventually he felt his arms being draped over two shoulders, one set firm and square, one set soft and rounded, and he felt himself being lifted up and supported to the door, his legs staggering as he was all but carried outside. He felt Tony and Sam lower him into the taxi and Tony leant in close. "I'll see you at work on Monday lad. You rest up. We'll have to do this again sometime."

Ravi was surprised to find that no-one else was home, but couldn't bring himself to care very much, as he stumbled through the front door clutching his stuffed stomach, and staggered to the living room where he collapsed on the sofa. He briefly thought about going to his room, but the thought of climbing the stairs made him groan. Sluggishly, he undid the buttons on his agonised shirt and trousers, sighing as his gut surged forward in the new space afforded to it.

Ravi lay there for what might have been ten minutes or an hour, not even able to summon the energy to rub his aching belly and only able to take short shallow breaths, interrupted only by his constant stream of burps. He swore he could feel stretch marks forming in real time.

Ravi heard the front door open and Steven stumbled in, softly singing some song Ravi couldn't quite make out. After a few seconds Ravi heard a soft "Jesus fuck," from his housemate. He turned his head lazily, not even able to lift it properly, to find Steven frozen, staring with wide eyes at the fat man splayed out on the sofa. Ravi supposed he must look quite a sight, his fat hairy gut spilling out of his unbuttoned shirt, and the top of his trousers wide open to reveal his underwear.

"Steve, sorry I-" he cut himself off with a belch. "I'm just so full, I don't think I can-" he hiccuped and winced as the sudden motion rocked his too full body. "I can't move man. I'm sorry. You might have to put up with me like this for a bit." He burped again, long and loud and sighed in pleasure as it seemed to relieve some tiny amount of the pressure he felt.

The monstrous burp seems to have awoken Steven out of his trance and he stumbled forward a little, eyes glazed but still transfixed onto Ravi's exposed middle. He sat gently down in the small space on the sofa that Ravi wasn't splayed out into. "It's fine," he said quietly, almost a whisper. "Really, it's fine. We've all seen each other shirtless before right? Probably even seen each other naked a few times." Ravi could smell the beer on Steven's breath, explaining why he was coming in so late.

"Yeah, I reckon so, but I'm a bit heavier than the last time you saw me like this," Ravi started to laugh but quickly stopped himself when his straining stomach protested against the movement.

Steven let out a long, slow shaky breath, before clearing his throat. "It's the stress of placement year. Everyone's put on a bit of weight." His voice came out strained and higher than usual.

"Not sure anyone's put on quite so much as me. I weighed myself tonight you know. Well, got weighed. Over 300 pounds," Ravi confessed. He swore that he heard Steven whimper. "I was barely 14 stone a year ago, what the fuck happened."

Steven gingerly reached out a out a hand on Ravi's belly, and began to rub small circles, his fingers weaving through the soft, thick hair there. Ravi groaned in pleasure and his head fell back against the sofa. "No, I don't think anyone's put on nearly so much. Still, Jason's got a proper gut now and…" he hesitated before continuing. "And even I've put on about three stone."

Ravi let out a small, short laugh before opening his eyes and turning to look at Steven with a smile. "Shit man, really?" And indeed, there it was, the tiniest of pot bellies pushing out ever so slightly against Steven's shirt. Ravi couldn't help but notice the way Steven's trousers strained against the bulge there as well. Ravi reached out and poked Steven's small beginner belly gently, and Steven inhaled sharply. "You were always so skinny, now look at you. You'll be catching up with Jason soon."

"Oh fuck," Steven whispered, barely audible. "I'll be borrowing his old clothes soon I bet." Steven's hands continued to make their slow circles on Ravi's gut, and his eyes were transfixed. "Do you remember that? When you had to borrow his clothes? Ripped his shirt? God you looked so fucking ridiculous."

Ravi gave a small laugh and burped. "I guess I did, yeah. Got the placement though."

"Do you enjoy it?" Steven asked intently.

"The placement? Yeah, it's amazing. Absolutely amazing."

Steven shook his head. "I mean this," he stopped rubbing Ravi's gut to gently pat it to make his point. "Getting big, being big." He paused, and then in a voice even lower, so that Ravi had to strain to hear: "I like it." Ravi didn't know if Steven meant his own small belly, or Ravi's far larger one.

Ravi waited before replying, turning the idea over in his head. Steven continued to rub his gut in large, wide circles, applying just the gentlest of pressure. Finally Ravi nodded. "I like it," he was quiet now too. "I like that I'm bigger than all our friends, and take up more room than anyone else we know." Steven nodded, and his hand moved to Ravi's lower gut. Ravi could feel his cock growing hard in his underwear, and was aware that Steven must have noticed, since his trousers were wide open. "And I like the way it makes me feel more mature. More like a man." Steven's hand actually brushed Ravi's hard cock through his pants, and Ravi grew even more aroused, despite his own embarrassment.

Steven nodded. "A man. That's exactly what's happening Ravi. You're becoming a real man." He'd stopped rubbing Ravi's belly now and his hand was resting on the bottom of his gut, Ravi's hard-on pressing directly into it. Steven used his pinky finger to hook into Ravi's waistband and he spidered his hand in. "Just like Tony," Steven whispered in Ravi's ear as he gripped the fat man's cock. Ravi shuddered and his eyes rolled back.

While gently playing with Ravi, Steven slid Ravi's trousers and pants down to his knees, struggling a little due to how tight they were. He moved down in between Ravi's legs, pinned in by Ravi's lardy thighs. He deftly moved Ravi's cock from his hand to his mouth. Ravi couldn't stop himself moaning, his voice ringing around the small house, and if he could form coherent thoughts he'd have been thankful Jason wasn't in. Between his full gut and Steven's administrations, Ravi had never been so overwhelmed by sensations in his life and he found himself trembling. It wasn't long before he finished, pumping down Steven's throat, his loud moan turning into a long, rattling belch, and he was left a quivering, beached whale on the sofa, a fine sheen of sweat covering his hairy, dark skin.

Steven took his hand and helped to heave him to his feet. The seat was low, and it took Ravi some time to build up enough strength to shakily stand up. Steven kissed him, leaning past his taut centre, and led him by the hand to his bedroom. Once there, Ravi collapsed onto the bed and Steven helped him wriggle the rest of the way out of his constricting clothes. Still too tired to do anything, Ravi shuffled across the bed to make room for Steven, and Steven nestled into his fleshy side as they fell asleep.

Chapter 6: The Offer

Ravi woke up to find the bed empty, Steven having left at some point in the night. He cautiously moved to his room, careful to avoid Jason, and changed his clothes. He headed down to the kitchen, surprised how hungry he was after eating so much last night.

"Morning," Jason said, eating a large bowl of cereal shirtless. Ravi noticed the way Jason's belly folded over his waistline when he sat down, and the thickness that had accumulated across his torso.

"Morning," Ravi replied. "Have you seen Steven this morning? He, uhh, wasn't in his room when I checked."

Jason paused. "He went out. Listen, did something happen? He seemed really upset."

"What? No, nothing hap- I mean, nothing that would- I don't think I did anything to upset him." Ravi was bewildered. Did Steven regret it? Hadn't he initiated last night?

"I don't know what's happened, and I don't want to get involved, but you need to be careful how you talk to Steven, okay?" Jason sighed. "I knew this would end up happening at some point."

"What? What do you mean? Why do I have to be careful with Steven? What did you know would happen?"

Jason rubbed his temples and forced a smile. "Look, I'm not getting involved. Steven isn't here. He seemed upset. I've passed on all of the information I have, I've done my part." He sighed again and turned back to his cereal, clearly not wanting to carry on the conversation.

Ravi nodded and stayed quiet. He put some toast in the toaster and cracked some eggs into a frying pan, starting off his first round of breakfast. He'd gotten into the habit of treating himself to two or three breakfasts at the weekend, having grown used to eating at home and then again once he was at the office. He sent Steven a text while he waited. I'd like to speak to you. Sorry I missed you this morning.

Three breakfasts later (he really was surprised by hungry he was after last night, but there was a hollowness in his stomach that demanded to be filled), he sat playing video games with Jason, a table of snacks piled high in front of them. Ravi was losing badly, unable to concentrate, and constantly looking at his phone. He had to resist the urge not to text Steven again, best to wait for him to text back first. Still, he typed and retyped various messages before deleting them.

"Do you fancy a beer? We should start thinking about sorting dinner really," Jason said as the evening set in, struggling into a standing position. Ravi was impressed. Two lunches and plenty of snacks later, Jason had kept up admirably with him, and his dad bod had bloated up into a proper beer belly, and his t-shirt had ridden up to reveal a small sliver of belly. Ravi knew that far more of his own mammoth gut was showing, having not upgraded his casual wardrobe nearly as often as his work one, and thought that perhaps it was time to go shopping. Probably worth getting a couple of sizes too big in fact, since he was starting to admit to himself that his weight gain wasn't going to slow down any time soon.

A heavy dinner and several beers later, Jason sat groaning, holding his tight belly, while Ravi continued to graze on snacks and what was left of the mammoth dinner. Ravi let out a burp and picked up his phone, putting it straight back down when he didn't see anything on it.

"Stop it," Jason snapped, his eyes still closed.

"What?" Ravi asked. "I'm not doing anything."

"Checking your phone every 30 seconds. You've been doing it all day. It's really fucking annoying. What are you waiting for?" Jason had opened his eyes, but struggled to sit up straight.

Ravi was quiet for a while. "Steven won't talk to me. Something, ah… something happened last night."

Jason sighed. "Fuck. You guys had a fight?"

Ravi shook his head. "No, no, not a fight. We sort of had a… a moment, I guess."

Jason sighed again and rubbed his forehead. "Look, he probably doesn't want me to say anything, but this needs getting sorted sooner or later, and he's been getting worse recently." He looked Ravi in the eyes. "Steven's basically in love with you. Everyone else can tell. Even more recently for some reason."

"What?" Ravi asked. "No he's not. He's my mate. We're just mates. He's not in love with me."

"Yes he is! He just doesn't want to do anything because you're straight and he knows nothing can happen."

"No I'm not," Ravi said.

"Not what?" Jason asked.

"Straight. I'm literally not straight. You guys all know that," Ravi explained.

"Of course you are. You've had girlfriends. You fancy women," Jason looked at Ravi like he was mad.

"I mean, that would be a part of being bi, yeah. But I've had boyfriends. I went out with a guy in sixth form for like 2 years."

Jason sighed. "But none of us actually knew you in sixth form, did we? And you haven't done anything since to imply you're bi? Like mention it? Or sleep with a guy?"

"Ah. Right," Ravi said. "So Steven…"

"Thinks you're straight and that he has no chance with you," Jason finished for him. "Does he? Have a chance? Would you go out with him?"

Ravi turned the question over in his mind. "I think so. I don't know. It's weird. I've not really thought of him that way before this year, but maybe? Probably, even."

"Listen, I'm not getting involved, yeah? But just be careful. We're living together next year too and I don't want it to be awkward." Jason moved back to rubbing his tight stomach.

Ravi nodded and struggled up to grab some more food, thinking hard about what Jason had told him.

Ravi would have almost been impressed with how well Steven was avoiding him, if it weren't so annoying. He hadn't seen him in almost a week now, with Steven leaving the house early and coming back late.

At the office, Ravi was surprised to find that Tony barely mentioned what had happened the previous Friday. Oh, he'd mentioned the dinner party alright, said that Sam had liked him, wanted to invite him round again, but nothing about the way he'd pushed Ravi past his limits, both physically and sexually. Ravi got the impression Tony almost found it normal. Perhaps it was, to him.

Midweek, Ravi got called into the office of the company's CEO for a meeting. The tall, gaunt man motioned for him to sit, which Ravi did gingerly, wincing as he heard the chair creak beneath him. He adjusted his clothes to check that there wasn't any hairy fat spilling out anywhere, as was becoming all too common.

"I've heard some good things about you this year. Incredible things actually. Tony says you're brilliant, and you uhh," his eyes moved up and down Ravi's body, taking it in, "clearly fit into his team quite well."

Ravi thanked him and willed his stomach not to rumble.

"I understand you're finishing a placement here later this month, and then you'll finish your final year of university?" the thin man continued. Ravi nodded. "In which case we'd like to offer you a job once you've graduated. You'll find we can be very generous in terms of pay and incentives. Company car, private health insurance, gym membersh-" he cut himself off, "well, my point is, we can afford to be competitive, and we want you. I don't want your answer now, but do think about it won't you?"

He motioned that Ravi could leave, and the two shook hands. Ravi left buzzing, not even upset by the spot of mustard he noticed on his shirt as he left. He grabbed a small plate of a selection of donuts, and slid his phone out of his tight pocket. He sent a quick, excited text to some friends and family to tell them what had happened before steeling himself to text Steven.

Hey man! Haven't seen you this week! I got a job offer at my placement! They're really keen. I'd like to talk to you tonight. Will you be at the house?

He put his phone down before it buzzed almost immediately. A text from Steven simply read Okay. Ravi breathed a sigh of relief and fished a bar of chocolate from his drawer.

"Steven, hi," Ravi panted. He'd rushed home, and his shirt was damp with sweat, sticking to the curves of his body.

"Hey Ravi," Steven said quietly.

"I'm going out actually," Jason announced, collecting his things in a hurry. "I've got a date. Or something. I think. Whatever." He made his way to the door. "I'll be back later. Or tomorrow. Whatever works really." The door slammed behind him.

"I'm sorry," Steven started.

"What for?" Ravi asked.

"Last week. It wasn't right. I shouldn't have- look, I'm just sorry, okay." Steven wouldn't look at Ravi.

"I still don't know what for though, I'm not mad or annoyed or regret anything," Ravi insisted.

"You were drunk, I shouldn't have."

"No I wasn't," Ravi said.

"Then I was! I was too drunk and I acted stupid and I'm sorry," Steven said, his voice getting louder. "We're living together next year and we should just forget it happened."

"I don't think we can just forget what happened Steven. I don't want to." Ravi moved towards Steven, trying to catch his eye.

"So what? We talk about it and then make friends again and then I go back to… look, you're straight and I know that and it's fine but that doesn't mean it's easy for me." Steven's voice wavered.

"This shit again," Ravi said, exasperated. "I'm not straight. I've never said I'm straight."

This caught Steven off-guard and he actually looked up to look at Ravi. "You're literally straight. You've had sex with loads of girls."

"Yes!" Ravi agreed. "I also got a blowjob off my housemate last week and then spooned with him all night! I'm bisexual."

Steven looked away. "It still doesn't matter. We shouldn't have done it."

"Why?" Ravi pressed. "I enjoyed it! I don't understand why you think you have to be miserable about it."

"Because it's not the same!" Steven shouted. "Because I've been in fucking love with you for three years and you liked the fact that I gave you a blowjob. Because you've never thought about me that way until Friday. It wouldn't work."

Ravi sat down next to Steven on the sofa, who had to shift to make room for him. "You're right," be admitted. "I've not particularly thought about you like that. You're hot, don't get me wrong, but you're a mate." Steven sighed quietly. "I don't see why we can't try though. I like you, you like me, we're both living together, we might as well enjoy it."

"What if we fuck it up?" Steven asked. "What if it all goes wrong and it's awkward all of next year?"

Ravi spread his hands out in front of him. "I don't know. But I imagine we might sort of be in that situation already, right? You've avoided me all week, we're fighting now. If we went out for a few months it's not like we'd be making anything worse." Steven didn't move, but Ravi could feel his body become less tense. "Besides," he continued, trying to gauge Steven's mood, "imagine how fat I'd be this time next year if I had someone to fatten me up."

Steven looked up, tears in his eyes. "Don't make fun of me."

"Make fun of you? I'm the fat arse here. I'm right though, aren't I?" Ravi asked.

Steven nodded. "How did you know?"

Ravi shook his gut. "I think at this point the only people interested in me are into fat guys."

Steven started to smile, tears still in his eyes, and shook his head. "I liked you before you gained weight."

"But it's a bonus though, right?"

Steven laughed. "Yeah. Yeah, a bonus." He wiped his eyes and his smile grew. "So what do we do now?"

"Dinner?" Ravi suggested. "You stuff me until I can't move, and then we end up in your bed, if I remember correctly."

Steven nodded and wiped tears from his eyes. "Yeah. Sounds good."

Ravi reached up to wipe more tears from Steven's eyes, and then leant in to kiss him. Steven leaned in, pressing against Ravi's soft body. Ravi fell back, pulling Steven with him until Ravi was spread out on the sofa, his body spilling over the side, with Steven laying above him.

"Right then," Steven said after a while. "You stay there. I'll order some food."

Epilogue - The Second First Day

Ravi was once again sat in Heather's office.

"Sorry we have to go through all this! I know you already know so much about the company, it's just that a lot of its different as an employee, with payroll and everything."

Ravi just smiled and nodded, feeling the way the fat around his face bunched up and moved even with this small gesture. He wondered what Heather thought of how his body had changed over the past year. While he'd put on roughly the same amount of weight in his last year of university as he had during his placement year, it wasn't as noticeable, and most people just saw a fat man these days, but Ravi knew there was no way to ignore over a hundred pounds gained in a year. His gut had maintained its large, spherical shape, but the last hundred pounds had all been soft, creamy fat, layering underneath his skin, and his gut had lost its former firmness and started to droop further and further down.

He spent almost two hours with Heather, signing forms, reading policies, and he was absolutely ravenous. Ravi struggled to think of the last time he'd spent two hours while awake without eating anything at all. Certainly not within the last hundred pounds, and probably, he thought, thinking back, not since he'd first started his placement, almost two years ago.

Finally, Heather put all the paperwork in a folder and smiled. "Right, I'm going to put all this away. Welcome back Ravi, it's good to see you. You've got a meeting with Tony now - you can make your own way there, can't you? Same office as last year." She looked Ravi up and down as he struggled to stand. "This elevator's out of order on this side of the building by the way, but the one in reception's working."

Ravi grinned and thanked her. Stairs were not realistically an option at this point. Even walking along the corridor to reception felt something of a chore, building up the sheer momentum to get going requiring more force than for most people.

Ravi greeted a few people he knew, and went by the kitchen to pick up some snacks, before going over the Tony's office.

"Bloody hell lad! Look at the size of you! Not started a diet then I see," Tony walked around the desk to shake his hand.

Ravi looked down at the two enormous guts as they shook hands, watching the fat ripple, and could see Tony doing the same. He couldn't possibly be- no, that didn't make sense. But then, it did look-

Tony said it out loud first. "Here, how much are you weighing these days? You're almost looking bigger than me."

Ravi looked up at Tony to see his face nervous, clearly not wanting to hear the answer. He wasn't almost looking bigger than Tony at all. He looked a fair bit bigger. "I was 422 pounds at graduation about 6 weeks ago. Steven wanted to see how much I'd put on at uni. So I guess more than that? 430 at least, maybe 440?"

"Bloody hell." Ravi wasn't used to seeing Tony lost for words. "You reckon you've put on that much since then?"

Ravi shrugged, a little embarrassed. "Maybe. At the rate I've been growing, I've put on at least two pounds a week, probably three some weeks." Ravi had never really thought about it. No wonder Steven was always saying he was like something out of one of the gainer stories he loved so much. "To be honest, I was a little nervous I'd come back and you'd make me feel tiny, Tony."

Tony whistled. "No worries about that lad. No, Sam was just happy he got me to 400 pounds, I haven't really put on any weight this year. Half a stone maybe."

Ravi sat in silence for a while before speaking. "So that means that I weigh-"

"About two stone more than me. Jesus lad. I'll have to start eating more to catch up with you, I can't have one of my engineers outweighing me."

Ravi grinned. "Don't worry, I'll lend you some of my old shirts."

Tony grumbled something about cheeky children and sat down at his desk, gesturing Ravi towards the seat opposite. "All the green chairs in the office are reinforced, should be fine. Some of them still have arms on though, I've asked facilities to get it sorted, Tom got stuck in one last week. He's up to about 25 stone and all I reckon, I'll be having to worry about keeping up with him as well soon enough. Right then."

As Tony talked through some of the upcoming projects he wanted Ravi to work on, Ravi looked down at himself, shocked that he was now bigger than the man he'd looked up to for so long. He traced a finger along the huge arc of his body, constrained and held in shape by his tight shirt.

"How was the first day back?" Steven called from the kitchen in their new flat, the smell of dinner drifting through to Ravi.

"Great thanks, yeah! Dinner smells good!" Ravi called back.

Steven turned round as Ravi entered the kitchen and grinned. "Still plenty of food in the office?"

"God yeah. I think Tony's been stockpiling in anticipation of me arriving," he joked.

Steven laughed and stroked Ravi's gut. "That makes sense, I know I would. You're still hungry though?"

Ravi nodded. "Starving. I'll just have a quick sandwich before dinner. How was your day? Settling in a bit more?" he asked.

"Yeah, yeah, starting to get the hang of everything a bit more now, not quite so lost," he said before sighing. "I tell you what though, you never said how exhausting it is carrying around all this extra weight," he continued, rubbing his own gut. He'd gained alongside Ravi the last year and now sported his own soft, heavy ball gut.

Ravi laughed and joined Steven in stroking his gut. "First off, all I do is complain about how tired I am. Secondly, what do you know about being fat? You put on a little weight and all of a sudden you're king of the gainers."

"Oi, it's not just a little weight. I'm fatter than Jason now." This was true, despite Jason putting on weight himself last year. The three of them had made for quite the house of porkers by the end of their final year. "And 70 pounds in a year is a lot for most normal people. I could be almost 350 pounds this time next year," Steven continued.

"Well I'm glad you've got someone to aspire to and show you how it's done," Ravi said, slapping his gut and kissing Steven. "And it won't take you anything like a year to get to 350. Tony and Sam have invited us to go for a dinner party this weekend. Tony says Sam wants to make it a regular thing. You remember that time I went round?"

"Oh god, how could I forget?" Steven looked down at his belly and dug his fingers in to the flab, imagining himself even fatter. "What do you think? What if I ended up over 400 pounds, like you?"

Ravi smiled and kissed Steven, rubbing his gut. "Mhhmm, I think I could live with that. We might have to get Jason to move back in with us though, get someone under 300 pounds to help us round the flat. Especially if I keep on gaining at this rate. I'm fatter than Tony now!"

"What, really? Has he lost weight?" Steven asked.

Ravi shook his head, sending his jowls shaking. "Nope. Basically the same weight. I'm just bigger now."

"Oh my god, how does that feel? I remember when you came in after the interview saying how big he was."

"Incredible. Really amazing actually. I feel absolutely huge. I think he was a bit jealous actually," Ravi said, thinking back to their meeting.

"Well," Steven said, "at least he's got such a great role model."

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