#yeah I’ll be honest I had no idea how to babble about the ending I’ll do that when it’s not 2:30AM

[moreespressoformydepresso]

Guess who started plagiarizing their own AU’s?

I got another fix-it with ✨angst✨ because I was thinking about how much Nero Price hates the districts for forcing him and his family into cannibalism and it made me think: “if starvation made him hate them, could it make them start to fight for them?” And then I thought about my starvation fix-it AU (featuring @spiralling-thoughts) and this was born.

Instead of the starvation happening before the games, it happens during the games, which takes place about a week or two later than it was supposed to due to rebel activity (read: Sejanus and a few good mentors fucking shit up for Gaul). The premise here is simple: these extra weeks gave the tributes the time to bond (and also none of them died because Sejanus Does Not Agree With That) and now none of them can stomach killing one another. So what’s the other option? Uhm… waiting until fate decides the victor? So once they’re finally thrown into the arena and the buzzer sounds they run into the tunnels like they did in canon (but with more kids), but the big difference is that nobody gets out. Some get a weapon just to be safe but the few kids that run into one another don’t really do anything. Think the Foxface-Katniss interaction at the start of the 74th Hunger Games. Lucky tries to get everyone hyped up every single time only to be sorely disappointed when they stare each other down only to sprint in the opposite direction mere seconds later.

At first, Gaul isn’t particularly bothered by how hilariously she’s being proven wrong because they can just starve out the tributes and surely they’ll start swinging at each other soon enough right? This might even be better than how things usually go! Except then the kids start to notice some are getting more food than others and they’re not about that. Coral sharing with Mizzen and Tanner is written off by their alliance, but then things start escalating. It starts with Lamina calling a clearly starved Wovey over and giving her all except two of her food packets. Then Lucy Gray and Jessup (who does not have rabies and neither does Reaper because Brandy (who is in the pack with Coral and Not Dead) threw the rabbid raccoon away a little further) trade their water for Sol and Hy’s food. Treech considers stealing Dill’s food and water but decides to help her consume it instead and somehow this keeps Dill from dying (Felix. The answer is Felix. He used his presidential family card to sneak antibiotics into her water bottles). Then before anyone knows it the tributes are all keeping tabs on who’s eaten what and they start rationing out so everyone gets the food they need. The older kids tells the younger ones that they’re deliberately feeding them more because growing you know? But the Capitol sure notices. When we get to day five, Gaul decides that enough is enough and orders a full stop to all sponsor gifts to try and force the tributes to start killing each other.

They do no such thing.

Instead, they start doubling down on their decision to stick this thing out together and start catching any rodents they can to feed to the youngest kids while ignoring the slowly growing hunger within them. Do those Capitol bastards really think they can get to them with starvation? Please, this is their daily jam. They’ve gotten this far, a little hunger won’t break them now. So they wait. They wait and they survive. It gets harder and harder for the older tributes, who are allowing themselves to starve for the sake of their younger companions and are slowly running out of fuel to keep going, but not once do they comply with what they know the Capitol wants from them. At some point it becomes pure shared spite more than anything.

Meanwhile, the Capitol citizens watch this go down and have their view of the world shaken up considerably. These kids know just a little too much about dealing with extreme food shortage for this to be their first rodeo. The delusion that the districts haven’t suffered as much as the Capitol did during the siege is completely shattered when the kids start sharing their best starvation cope tactics that make it clear this is a regular occurrence for them. Slowly, more and more information is shown to them as they watch the kids they saw as violent beasts be nothing but caring and kind to one another. It hits especially hard for the Price family, who spent so much time loathing the districts for their decision to resort to cannibalism only to find out that the Capitol has pushed the districts right to that edge for years. How can they call themselves better when they’ve done the exact same thing they resent the districts for? When they’ve arguably done worse because they’re punishing innocents? That last line of thinking becomes particularly unavoidable when the younger kids start taking up more screentime. Why do they do this? Because the older tributes are starting to succumb to starvation. They all look skeletal and half-dead, but the oldest tributes have given up so much food that it’s clear they can barely move. They do a good job of hiding it around the younger kids but once they’re out of sight under the guise of searching for more insects and rodents to eat they collapse and curl up to fight off the hunger pangs. When the young kids are asleep all the older ones clearly sag as their energy depletes. It reminds the Capitol citizens of how they’d hide their fatigue and physical deterioration from their kids and loved ones, desperate to hold it together, only to break down once they were alone.

When the first tribute stops being able to move, the Capitol has had enough. Perhaps Marcus, Coral, and Reaper scream their lungs out at the camera over the hypocrisy and cruelty and then mockingly asking the Capitol what they’re gonna do about this show of rebellion. This refusal to fight. Starve them? Kill them? What more can they do?! That’s the final straw. The more sympathetic citizens refuse to watch for even a second longer. They do the one thing the Capitol feared:

They rebel

Maybe they force the government to get the kids out. Maybe they get some peacekeepers on their side and storm the arena first to make sure not one more innocent life is lost. Either way, they realize that silence isn’t any better than being the monster. Seeing suffering and standing by is just as cruel as causing that suffering in the first place. If they storm the arena they bring easily digestible food and liquid calories to avoid refeeding syndrome or nausea from overeating so they can start helping the kids readjust and heal. Of course there’s a lot of distrust from the kids at first, but they’re in no position to refuse food. So they take it, and for once the oldest kids don’t mind eating first because who knows what these Capitol assholes put in it? Of course it turns out it’s not poisoned so they start to accept it a little more openly while the politics are handed and arrangements are made to get the kids back home. Gaul tries to stop this, but nobody listens to her anymore. Her lab’s destroyed under “mysterious circumstances” and as her career comes to a fiery end, she herself does too. When legal repercussions for her heinous actions is threatened by the parents of several academy students she endangered, she attempts to flee the country. What chance of winning does she have when one of the litigants is President Ravinstill himself??? Felix was a little upset about Dill’s pain and he wasn’t about to let it slide but since persecuting her for the hunger games wouldn’t work due to law changes not working retroactively this was the next best thing. Either way, certain people (the mentors) caught wind of the fact that this vile monster of a woman was trying to escape the consequences of her actions and they decided to remain one step ahead by becoming the mysterious circumstances credited with her disappearance. By which I mean she came to a slow death in her home. Possibly through invisible toxic gas, possibly through burning to death, possibly through her own predator muttations given her scent to hunt down. Who knows? Better question is who cares? The mentors have become closer to their tributes and their friendships last well beyond the fixing of all the problems in this mess of a country and all’s well that ends well.

[fluffypeachwriting]

hi!! i'm a huge fan of SaP and i'm so stoked to see that you have more writing here! i leave comments on ao3 when i can because i want you to know how much i ADORE your writing! please know that you have an avid fan here who's always ready to support your writing endeavors!! as for a request... can i ask for an ichiro x f!reader scenario where the reader is very fond of ichiro's voice? she'd get very flustered whenever he speaks and ichiro would tease her about it? bonus if it's nsfw aaaa tysm!!

Thank you so much! I read all the comments I get on Ao3 (if I forget to reply to them I’m sorry!) and they never fail to make me happy. I appreciate it so much  ☆ ～('▽^人) They’re so motivating!!! I’m always trying my best to get by and write good content for everyone!  (*≧ω≦*)

I hope you like what I wrote for this request! It was v fun  (☆▽☆)

DNI with this post if you’re under 18!

You had just begun to make breakfast, but hearing the wind rattle everything outside made you want to just leap back into bed and curl up. Snow whipped by the windows, deterring you from wanting anything to do with going outside. It had been a day’s worth of energy to ask Ichiro to only take indoor jobs today. Really, the only thing keeping you up was the fact that Ichiro was in the kitchen with you. And you wanted to find out why he was acting so oddly.

By now he would have made breakfast for you both, and would be excitedly babbling about what he wanted to do that day at the table. Right now he was just… standing around.

“Hey babe, could you do me a favour and take a trip to the store? We need more sugar, for coffee.” Ichiro said, loosely wrapping his arms around you, and resting his head gently on your shoulder. His voice was gravelly with sleep, and you considered not going out just to hear it more.

“Hmm… I dunno… it’s really cold outside. And just for sugar? Pfft, are you kicking me out?” You nudged him off your shoulder and turned around.

“No,” Ichiro rested his forehead on yours, “I was gonna pay the favour back.”

“Okay, you could just say that. Is something up?”

His voice made this mundane conversation pretty exciting. However, it was still way too early in the morning for him to be dancing around what he actually wanted to say. The idea that he was doing it on purpose crossed your mind – but what for? He wasn’t the type to be anything less than honest, even about the simple things.

“Well, y’know, you said you like my voice, ‘specially in the mornings, so yeah.”

You were right – he couldn’t be dishonest for long. Though, it was also cute to see him try.

“Ichi…” you mumbled. In embarrassment, you planted your face (which was getting redder by the second) in his chest.

That voice… it was a miracle, really. Everyone would have heard it at its loudest, its most violent, but the shy tones were ones he saved for you. After months of you two dating, and getting to hear his voice so often, it was getting hard to hold in how much you loved it. You had tried to think of the best way to describe why you did love it so, and the best reason you could tell him was: “It’s so deep and lovely, and your boyish charm adds like, another dimension to it, like you put your full heart into everything you say.”

He didn’t understand your affinity for his voice, however, seeing first-hand how it affected you made him resolve to use this ‘power’ to its full potential. It tickled him to think he could make you weak with his voice without the aid of his mic (and when he giggled about that you swooned so hard he thought you would pass out),

And this wouldn’t be the end – you knew Ichiro well enough to predict that he’d lean down and speak softly in your ear. You silently thanked him for it.

“Okay, okay… I’ll get the sugar later.”

His chest rose and fell as soft as the snow falling outside. Truly, you could have fallen back asleep standing up, as long as you were in his arms. Only when you felt his chest rumble – rather than hear him mumble – you forced yourself awake.

“At least let me do the favour anyway.”

You shook your head a little – he said it as if this was his plan all along. Typical Ichiro, wanting to do something for you.

“What favour?” A touch of the embarrassment from earlier lifted off your mind as things seemed to take a turn for the cute.

You were half expecting him to let you decide, and half expecting it to be something like making breakfast, which he would do anyway. The last thing on your mind was his actual response:

“Hnn… I was thinking of eating you out. That sounds good, yeah?”

Stronger than coffee.

That embarrassment from before came flooding back, and if you were being honest, that wasn’t the only thing getting flooded.

You felt your cheek get even warmer – wait, not yours… It was Ichiro, radiating more warmth than before. Ah, you should have known that it was a little out of character for him to initiate intimacy flawlessly. Even the way he spoke became faintly tense.

“So…? I mean,” Ichiro cleared his throat before whispering in your ear, making sure you could hear him crystal clear, “I can lift you up on the counter, and we can go from there.”

If only you could record everything you heard, then you could listen at any time. Then again, it sounded better in real-time.

“I think my voice sounds better from between your legs. I’m gonna need your opinion though.”

You were more than happy to give your opinion.

[untaemedqueen]

Third Wheeling

CEO!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 28.

Warnings (Updating Still): Smut, Cheating, Unexpected Pregnancy, Unfaithful, Emotional Damage, Love

Warnings In This Chapter: Use Of A Sex Toy, Lactation Kink, Degradation, Daddy Kink, Begging, Sex Over A Desk, Bratty!OC, Dom!Yoongi, Mentions Of The Color System, Sex Against A Window, Exhibitionism, Praise, Multiple Orgasms, Cream Pie, Insecure!Yoongi

A/N: I’m back from vacation. Here is your weekly dose of Yoongles. Also big ups to my ladies @xjoonchildx, @ladyartemesia, @ppersonna​. Love yall.

Why do people even get married? If you had it your way you would just get married at City Hall with your parents and best friends. But getting married to a CEO is never that easy. Combine that with your raging hormones, sore back and ankles, and your overbearing, over the top best friend… it's all a bit much to handle. Not to mention now that everyone knows who you are, you have eyes on you at all times.

Although, you know how happy Yoongi is about all of this. You can see how he radiates joy with each step as you walk hand in hand together out in public. That pretty much makes it all worth it.

"I'm allergic to coconut," Yoongi breathes out, pushing the plate of wedding cake in front of him away.

You hum in agreement, leaning back into the plush armchair.

"They're all so good, I don't know what to pick." you say truthfully, looking over the multitude of wedding cake samples that are spread across the exorbitantly large dining room table.

"Well, you have… twenty minutes to figure it out." Leena notifies you from the other end of the room.

"You know, you're like a drill sergeant or something," you murmur.

You can hear Yoongi's gentle snigger when she narrows her eyes at you. "My perfect, amazing, gorgeous best friend is only getting married once. It has to be the event of a lifetime. So strap in and call me General Matrimony."

"Hear, hear." your fiance agrees smothering your cheek with a kiss.

"In my opinion the double chocolate fudge with marshmallow Swiss buttercream is the best." Leena decides, pointing to the cake in the middle of the table.

"Too sweet." you and the CEO reply at the same time.

She sneers at your combined cuteness.

"Are we trying to be disgustingly decadent or classy?" Yoongi quips to you, throwing his arm over your shoulder.

Leaning your temple against him, your cheeks puff out in thought. "Disgustingly classy?"

Leena points at you with her gold pen. "Love that."

The CEO snorts loudly, running the tip of his nose over your temple.

"If we're being disgustingly classy, we should do the chocolate chiffon cake with the light white raspberry filling." you announce, pointing at the cake in front of you.

"That was really good," Yoongi agrees, planting his hand on your protruding stomach.

Leena looks up at you over her clipboard impressed. "If I knew you were gonna turn into some hoity toity queen, Miss Thing -- I would have shoved you at Yoongi a long time ago." she jeers.

You roll your eyes with a laugh before wincing at a kick that's just a bit too tender on the ribs.

"Honggi. Relax, buddy." Yoongi mutters in your direction.

You had decided on a name last night. It honestly didn't take you long at all. You and your fiance are always on the same page.

Honggi is a powerful name and Yoongi's son should have that prowess and power behind him.

Yoongi came to love the simple word almost immediately and even when you were drifting off to sleep, you could hear the CEO murmuring semblances of the name.

When Leena looks over you both, her sharp and intense features begin to soften. "God, you guys are cute. It's fucking disgusting." she whines, sipping her champagne.

Shaking his head with a laugh your soon-to-be husband seems to agree. "I'm not the one who brings the cuteness here." he chirps, running his thumb in loving strokes over your distended skin.

Leena gives you a moment or two to calm down before hardening her gaze and tapping the famed clipboard with her pen. "Floral arrangements, come on folks! We don't have time!"

"Wedding tyrant." Yoongi breathes playfully, earning a snort from you.

"Good morning, Sir." Shea calls to Yoongi as he gets out of the elevator.

"Hey, Shea. Mornin'." the CEO mutters, running his fingers through his perfectly styled hair.

It was no secret that after the unfortunate incident with his mother, you started to despise Kira. You never said anything of course, you were too kind for that. But Yoongi knew, he always knows. So he did what he thought was best and let her go. He did however give her a gigantic 'keep quiet' sum of money as well as having her sign a NDA. He wasn't about to let the woman that's kept him company many times throughout many years go blabbering at the mouth due to being disgruntled.

"You have two meetings today and then after lunch you have a few contracts to sign." Shea explains.

Yoongi likes that she's strictly business. And more importantly, she doesn't look at him like he's a piece of meat on sale at the butchers.

"Thanks." he breathes, picking up his coffee from the reception desk.

"Oh! And your fiance called!" she beams.

He knows she's a fan of your artwork and just the mention of you has both of them smiling like idiots. Nothing like simping to start off the day.

"Oh? Is she okay?" he inquires, pulling out his phone.

"She said she's bringing you lunch, so don't eat." Shea instructs.

He hums thoughtfully. "Well, I guess I'm pretty lucky. Huh?" he quips, heading towards his office.

The day goes by slower and slower with each passing minute. He equates it to being away from you and his son if he's being honest.

The meetings are all the same. Boring and tedious with glasses of whisky to take the boredom even slightly away.

The old men that seem to run the company beneath him have more to say about the project managers than their own jobs. It's almost baffling.

But when Yoongi gets the solace of being in his exorbitantly large office again on his own, he finds peace there.

Shea wasn't too forthcoming with just how many contracts he has to sign and the stack of them on his desk makes his eye twitch.

"God, when is lunch?" he breathes, turning around in his large chair to look at the sonogram painting of his son you so artfully created.

Digging into his suit pocket, he looks for the trusty gold pen he uses to sign documents -- but he feels something else first. It's small, fitting in his palm and his eyebrows furrow. When he pulls it out, he can't say he isn't confused.

You did pick out his suit this morning, much like you do every morning but he's never had a remote in his pocket before.

Picking up his phone, he's immediately intrigued.

The phone rings loudly in his ear and suddenly he's forgotten all about work.

"Hello?"

"Little dove." his voice sounds confused and playful at best.

He examines the small black remote, having no idea what on Earth it's for.

"Yeah?" you quip back.

"I found a remote in my pocket. Any idea why?" he prods, his eyebrows flickering up expectantly.

The hum of uncertainty you give makes him all the more curious.

"No. Why is there a remote in your pocket? Did you take the garage remote instead of your car key?" you inquire.

It's simply ridiculous but now he's questioning himself. "What? No! Then how would I have gotten to work?"

He presses the 'On' button and flips it over in his hand expectantly.

"Oh God," you whisper softly.

"You okay? Is Honggi kicking a lot?" Yoongi asks, putting down the remote to give you his full attention.

"N-No. I was just surprised. I'm in the car, now on my way over to your office."

Your voice sounds breathless and strange all at once and for the first time… probably ever -- Yoongi doesn't take it sexually. "You better tell Minho to be careful driving, you hear me?"

"Mhm." you gasp softly.

"Well if you didn't put this thing in my pocket, I don't know how it got here then." Yoongi murmurs, pushing more buttons on it curiously.

"Oh my God, Minho drive faster!" you squeak out.

The CEO is completely at odds with what's happening. "You alright?" he inquires curiously.

"I just really need to… pee." you babble.

You sound dazed and lost, even needy all of a sudden.

"I'm sure. Honggi is getting big." your fiance agrees, drawing imperfect shapes on his desk with the tip of his finger.

"I'm here. I'll be right up, Daddy." you whimper, hanging up on him.

He pulls the phone away from his ear, eyebrows completely furrowing. "What's wrong with her?" he bleats.

He's signed a total of three documents by the time you make it upstairs.

Just hearing your sweet voice interacting with Shea in the far distance sends his heart absolutely pounding with excitement. Seeing you sometimes gives him the adrenaline of bungee jumping or cliff diving.

When the doors of his office burst open, he can't help the gummy smile that spreads over his features.

He takes in your attire and suddenly he's confused. You're wearing a stylish black trench coat that flourishes out at the bottom, but he can't see the dress you're wearing beneath it.

"What dress are you wearing that doesn't cover your mid thighs?" he asks, pushing back his desk chair to stand up tall.

Your fingers are shaking and you hurriedly slam the door shut. When you lock the both of you inside his large office, he knows something is weird.

"Y/N?"

Turning around to him with your back flush to the door, he can see how colored your cheeks are. Your lips are parted like your gasping for breath and your eyes are low with lustful intentions.

He finds something in his gut stirring at the sight of you.

"Baby? You okay?" he prods, rounding his desk.

Your fingers fumble with the belt around your belly which keeps the trenchcoat in place.

It's almost amusing how flustered you are.

You don't seem to be in any pain and Yoongi takes this all in as strange.

He leans back against the desk, waiting patiently for you to reply.

"I'm fine!" you assure him, shoving open the coat.

If his eyes could widen any larger, they'd probably pop out of his head.

You stand before him, scantily clad in thin, lace lingerie.

"Baby!" he gawks, rushing towards you to cover you up.

He can't help the way his cock begins to stir below the belt at the sight of you.

"What're you doing?" he hisses, gripping both sides of the trench coat.

You whimper gently, hooking your hand around his neck to pull him down to your height. He allows you to kiss him, he can feel the fervent need coming from your lips. His hands slowly slide from the coat to beneath it, feeling the soft skin of your belly.

"Want you," you gasp, pulling one of his hands between your thighs.

He can feel the vibrations against his fingertips and it all makes sense now. He groans loudly, pulling you back in for a fierce and passionate kiss.

His teeth nibble gently at your bottom lip and in all honesty, he's astounded by your forwardness. It's rare to see you like this but when your hormones are raging and in charge of your brain… who is he to stop you?

"You naughty little dove." he jeers, pulling you towards his desk.

"What's got you so playful today?" he inquires, pushing the multitude of contract folders aside.

He helps you up onto the desk, spreading your legs with a wanton groan.

The clit and g-spot vibrating sex toy you had recently spoken about sits between your sodden pussy lips. Yoongi can see how wet you are through the thin lingerie and it makes his heart beat faster at the sight.

"Just wanted to," you whimper, spreading your legs wider.

Stepping between your limbs, his hands can't seem to separate from your soft skin. Reluctantly, he leaves your belly to tug down the cups of your bra. Your breasts spring out, swaying and dribbling milk languidly.

"You're leaking milk in public, like a little cum slut."

His dominance is overwhelming to your senses and you can only nod fervently in agreement.

"I'm your cum slut. I'm yours." you babble, wrapping your hand around his tie and pulling him towards you.

It's not like this extreme horniness has come from nowhere. In fact, you've been in pain from kicks and punches from your growing son for a week or so now and the one day you don't feel any pain at all -- the most pressing horniness you've ever felt has overcome you.

His lips are soft and warm against yours. They draw you in like a fly to honey and you're enraptured with the man you're in love with.

"I never thought you'd turn up at my office like this, little dove." Yoongi murmurs, pressing soft kisses to the column of your neck.

"I'm so horny, I'm going to pass out!" you complain, reaching for his belt.

He can hear the sheer neediness in your voice and it sends him into overdrive.

"I'll take care of you, baby girl. Don't worry." he assures you, cupping your breasts and gingerly swiping his thumbs across your leaking nipples until you're sobbing with relief.

"D-Daddy!" you whine, unbuckling his belt.

The way your voice peaks makes his eyes immediately rise to the double doors of his office.

"You're gonna have to be a little quieter for me, babe. I'm at work." he murmurs, kissing your lips softly.

You whimper, giving him an understanding nod.

"Good girl," your fiance praises, wrapping his lips around your nipple.

Your hand cups your mouth when you gasp loudly. Shaking like a leaf, your body is quite literally vibrating with sexual need.

He sighs gently against you, adoring you for all you're worth. One hand pinches and rolls your forsaken nipple while the other caresses your stomach.

The vibrating with you seems to only get faster and you're so stimulated that fat tears of pleasure begin to roll down your cheeks.

"Feels good, little dove?" Yoongi coos around your nipple, enmeshing his fingers into the sides of your underwear. In mere seconds it becomes strings in his hands. He groans against your skin gently, tucking your destroyed undergarments into his suit pants pocket.

"S-So good! Fuck," you moan, shoving down his pants.

The sight before you has you licking your lips expectantly. His cock is already throbbing with need and it's a welcome sight.

One thing you can always count on with Yoongi is his complete and utter patience when it comes to pleasing you. His cock could be fucking purple with need and he would still take his time making sure you're satisfied first.

His fingers run over the smooth silicon of the sex toy and he shivers visibly at the vibrations. "How's it feel, baby? You like the new toy?" he inquires, kissing over the valley of your breasts.

You hum in agreement, lifting your hips slightly begging him to touch you.

You can feel your veins coursing with white hot pleasure, it feels like electricity firing through every pore in your body.

When his fingers slide over your opening, he can't help but choke on a moan. "God, your cunt is soaked. Shit." he curses, dipping a finger into your heat.

"You're gaping for my cock, Jesus Christ." he breathes out.

Yoongi knows he probably isn't going to last long. It's been awhile since you've fucked and his hand is nothing compared to being inside of you. Combine that with the new vibrator inside you, it's definitely going to be a tough feat.

"Fuck me over the desk like an animal!" you beg of your soon-to-be husband.

His eyes seem to widen at your forwardness but he can't say he doesn't love it.

"Anything for you, baby girl."

Your whimpers of anticipation have his bottom lip tucking tightly between his teeth.

"How'd I get so lucky to have such a gorgeous woman as my wife? Huh?" he whispers, running his hands over your back and sides.

You don't answer him, only pushing your hips back and wiggling your ass to show just how needy you are.

"I'm coming baby, relax." he promises, palming both globes of your ass in hand.

Your breathing is shallow and your mind is swimming as you wait for him. The vibrations against your most sensitive parts feel so amazing, so raw but it's not enough -- you want his consent to cum. You need it.

Yoongi picks up the small remote, testing the speeds and he realizes which you like more depending on your breathing and small moans. He's toying with you right now, enjoying the obscene amounts of arousal dripping down your soft, fleshy thighs.

His eyes are focused on your cunt, watching from behind as it twitches and spasms around the small device inside of you.

"Daddy, please!" you whine, lifting your head to look back at him.

When you do look back, you see his cock flat on his palm. He pumps it in hand a few times, cursing gently at the sight before him.

"Aren't you just a pretty little pregnant whore for me?" he quips, running his hand from your back to cup your stomach.

The weight of your belly in his hand has him almost in a frenzy then. Pressing the weeping head of his cock to your entrance, his lips press into a thin, hard line when he feels the vibrating sensations flow through him.

"Oh fuck," he hisses softly, letting his eyes flutter shut.

"Yes!" you breathe out, pushing back to welcome him into your swollen cunt.

He groans then, welcoming your warm heat around him inch by inch.

"Feels so fucking good, baby girl. Jesus." he moans, taking a moment  for you to adjust to his size.

Grabbing the remote once more, he turns it onto the fastest speed and the gasps you collectively emit seem to sound like they're all around you.

He's forgotten he's at work, he's forgotten what he's supposed to be doing because the most important thing right now is you -- and your swollen, greedy sex is all he needs.

With the pleasurable vibrations added, all Yoongi wants to do is fuck you so hard that you'll both cum and be pleased in minutes. But he's never been the type to leave a sexual experience so early.

Folding over, his chest presses to your back and his fingers intertwine with yours.

His lips feel like heaven against your warm, flushed skin. He suckles small marks against the side of your throat, coloring you as his own.

His thrusts are hard and filling but slow. He'd give anything to hear skin slapping against skin right now but then he's reminded that he's at work.

Your hands grip harder onto the edge of the desk as you rut back against him.

"Your cock is so big," you whine, closing your eyes to become enraptured in the whole experience.

"Yeah? You like my big cock in this pregnant cunt?"

You nod fervently, trying to bite back the loud moans that threaten to tear past your lips. It's all too much and suddenly your orgasm is approaching like a rapid waterfall.

"Don't you dare," your fiance threatens, lifting himself up and gripping the back of your neck.

"Please Daddy. Need to cum," you beg, feeling your body quake with the ever pressing need of relief.

"Oh no, I don't think so. You show up to my office, you wait until I say you can cum."

You whine in defiance, pushing your hips back against him harder and he's surprised at your brattiness.

"Don't you dare cum." he warns you.

Your eyebrows furrow with need and you couldn't care about the punishment you're going to recieve. You're honestly not sure what's come over you, you've never defied him before but right now it's getting you more excited to not listen to him.

Pushing past the control of his orgasms, you lose yourself on his cock. Your high is filled with galactic stars behind your eyelids and white noise filled ears.

"You brat," he gasps, pulling out of you.

It's a smug grin the spreads over your face now before your cringing at the overstimulation of the sex toy. He takes pity on you in that regard, shutting the toy off and pulling it out of you. Tossing it onto his desk, he points his finger in your direction. "You're in trouble." he breathes out, jerking his hard cock in hand.

Now that you've arrived back down to Earth, you're worried. You've never defied him before and you've never seen his wrath.

"You just woke up a brat today, didn't you?" he seethes, helping you stand back upright.

You pout, shaking your head quickly in hopes that he won't be too strict on you. His narrowed eyes chill you to the bone.

"I'm sorry, Daddy. I just couldn't help cumming. I was so horny. I'm sorry," you apologize profusely, running your hands over his clothed chest.

He hums unimpressed, combing his fingers through his hair.

"If only people knew what a cumwhore I have on my hands." he murmurs through his teeth.

You frown up at him, begging him to forgive you with puppy dog-like eyes.

"No. You don't get away with being a brat that easily," he deadpans.

Nodding to the large floor to ceiling windows, he taps his foot incessantly.

"Go stand by the window." he orders.

You look down at your naked body before looking back up at him in confusion.

"Wh-"

"What's your color?" he cuts you off, running his hand over your belly.

"G-Green," you chirp out, looking at the window.

"Then go stand up against the window." he instructs, beginning to stroke his cock once more.

"Why?" you inquire curiously, doing as told.

"So people can see what a cumwhore I have on my hands," he whispers into your ear. The heat of his breath has something unfurling inside of you once more.

Bracing your hands against the window, you turn back to look at him just in time to see him situating the vibrator between his fingers.

The quiet thrumming of the sex toy makes your breath hitch with anticipation.

"Spread your legs," your fiance commands, pressing his chest flush to your back.

You're so high up you're almost certain no one could see you but excitement still courses through you.

His hands wrap around you like strong chains and you hum in appreciation.

"I love you," you remind him, turning and kissing his cheek.

He softens at your words, kissing over your shoulder with his plush lips. "I love you too, brat." he murmurs.

His words make you snort gently but it's quickly cut off by a loud gasp. He presses his hand to your swollen clit and the smug grin he gives you sends a chill through your spine.

Your forehead presses to the chilly glass of the window and you mewl as his legs knock yours open farther.

His cock slides between your sodden folds a few times before entering back inside of you.

"Oh my God," you whine, backing your hips up to him.

"Pretty little thing," he praises, kissing over your neck. "What do you think, little dove? You think people can see me fucking your pregnant cunt from all the way down there?"

His thrusts become rougher and harder, cursing all the while.

The vibrations that ricochet through you are once again pushing you towards the edge at a surprisingly rapid pace.

"Don't even," he seethes, feeling how your cunt trembles around him.

His grunts and the sweet whispers of your name enrapture your ears.

The sight that greets Yoongi's eyes could make him almost blow his load in that very second.

"Your milk is leaking onto the glass, oh fuck." he whimpers, fucking into you harder and faster.

"Gonna cum!" you cry to him, scratching your nails against the window.

He doesn't even respond, chasing his own high as your cunt threatens to milk him for all he's worth.

"Oh little dove!" he gasps.

His thrusts become sloppier and his breath hitches at the prospect of cumming inside of you.

"Yoongi, please!" you beg, spreading your legs wider.

"You think you deserve it?" he quips, running his hand over your belly bump.

"Yes," you whimper, pushing back against him with each thrust.

"Cum." he commands, pressing his forehead into the junction between your neck and should.

He holds you up easily as you orgasm around him. You become a blubbering mess, crying out his name softly like a prayer.

"God, I love you." he seethes through his teeth.

His teeth clench down on his bottom lip as he cums, trying to quiet his final moans.

You both stay like this for a few minutes, just enjoying each other's company.

"Are you upset with me?" Yoong inquires, pulling out of you slowly.

Your eyebrows furrow at his worried tone. "Huh? Not at all, why?"

"You never act bratty or defy me… Did I do something wrong?"

You've spoken about this before actually. Yoongi is prideful when it comes to your sub slash dom relationship. He beams with satisfaction knowing that he keeps you so pleased you don't act out of character. For you to have been just the slightest bit bratty, it probably shook up his confidence.

"No, it's just my hormones I think, I wanted to be a little sassy," you explain, sitting down on his lap when he beckons you.

He hums unsurely, hooking his chin over your shoulder. "I'm a good dom to you when we have sex, right?" he asks, kissing your temple.

"Always. You always make me feel safe and dominated," you promise, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He breathes a sigh of relief, looking down at the sex toy tossed casual aside on his desk. "Felt good," he murmurs, running his hands over your sides.

You give him a large smile, nodding in agreement. He can't help but snort at your joyful expression.

"Well regardless of your bratty hormones, I'm happy you came to distract me from my work." your fiance murmurs, pulling the cups of your bra back up.

"You're always happy to be distracted from work." you quip, combing your fingers through his hair.

He nods thoughtfully, letting his fingertips graze over your outer thigh. "Very true." he beams, kissing your shoulder.

When your skin begins to raise with goosebumps, he's quick to cover you with the trenchcoat you discarded a while ago in your sudden heat of passion.

It's your stomach that rumbles first with the need for food and sustenance before he acts accordingly also.

"Oh yeah, where's the lunch you promised me?" the CEO inquires, tying the belt of your coat back in place.

"I gave it to you." you reply with a wide smile.

He looks over at the window before shaking his head with a laugh. "Alright, that's it. Get your pretty butt to the car, I'm taking us home for lunch."

Just talking about food in general has you jumping up with excitement. "Are you coming back to work after?" you prod, watching as he pulls up his boxers and suit pants.

"Nah, I'll just take the contracts home with me now so I don't have to come back. Besides, I didn't correct your errant behavior like I wanted too." he whispers, pecking your lips softly.

Leaning back on the desk, your head begins to tilt. "Well, you should get all your punishment in before six. Leena is coming over to discuss place settings for the wedding."

He groans gently, fixing his suit jacket until it looks seemingly pristine. "Why are you best friends with a tyrant? Remind me again?"

Your giggle echoes through the large office and he adores the sound, it courses through him like new life.

Scooping up the contract folders, he looks over to the window before smiling to himself. "Y'know I'm never cleaning my window again, right?" he quips, watching as you pull open the doors to his office.

"That's disgusting," you quip back, holding out your engagement hand so he can hold it.

Kissing the top of your head, he laughs. "Yeah, I am."

Next Chapter ------>

Third Wheeling Taglist -  @wickizer​, @imluckybitches​, @slothykrueger​, @claireelise19, @ggukkieland​, @rspbrryy​​, @iv-bts​, @bambuzlee​, @chanelbts​, @mxxngxdss​, @bluewhale52​, @milesjeon11​​, @diamonddia-mond​​, @vinylphwoar, @xnxy97​​, @hubbytaehyung, @140503at-dawn​​, @bts-7beauts​​, @jadeblackwoll, @sunshiine-hobii, @creatorspalace​​, @eclectically-esoteric​​, @nikkiordonez12​​, @kaitswrld​​, @skamlover200​​, @sevgilove98, @kooeuphoria​​, @jikooksgirl19​​, @hobbledehoy26​​, @singular-itae​​, @dchimminie​​, @lowlifeoeuvre​​, @sugaslittlekookies​​, @bloopbloopb, @pjmcth​​, @softysuho​​, @codeinbelle, @jaiuneamesolitaiire​​, @betysotelo18​​, @jeonmisha​​, @iwanttohitmyself​​, @ayyyocee​​, @neverthefirstchoice​​, @itsbangtanoclock​​, @little7bitchh​​, @veryuniquenamegoeshere​​, @deathkat657​​, @firstlovesuga-93​​, @namjoonia​​, @paperpurple​​, @muzikabijou​​, @liebeoppa, @veronawrites​​, @kleff03​​, @ruinsofangels​​, @brightwingr5​​, @leekanchol​​, @rkivemagic​​, @ithinkileftmycoatoutside​​, @melaninkpops​​, @y00ngisbabygirl​​, @ungodlyjoon​​, @prochnost513​​, @dunixxd​​, @athenakyle​​, @igotnotype​​, @chxmachxps​​, @tinymintyoongi, @vangameren-blog​​, @alpaca1612​​, @ohcarolinamin​​, @thegreatestsushi​​, @eltrain80​​, @btsmylife21​​, @deeepvibes​​, @httpminyg​​, @deliciouslydisturbed365​​, @rkchmestizangmaldita​​, @jimin-chu, @pimpnameyannie​​, @preciouschimine​​, @daughterofthequeen, @monetsberet​​, @vanillamyg, @aamxxrii​​, @kooafraid​​, @ladykadyrova​​, @singjisu​​, @yazanii​​, @moonlitmyg​​, @justzeera​​, @absolutefantrash​​, @whocaresarchives​​, @loosewindmill, @vantesfx​​, @bt21chim​​, @flowerboyhobi​​, @kozuume-kenma, @taepiper​​

Sorry for those it didn’t tag!

[fonulyn]

If you're still taking prompts can you do chris/leon no zombies au where its Leon's first day at rpd and he so desperately wants to impress the hot STARS officer?

"Hey Chris, wait up!"

Hearing Jill's voice from the end of the hallway automatically made Chris look over his shoulder and slow down his steps. As she approached he looked back down at the folder in his hands, one he'd been reluctantly flipping through, trying to figure out a way to get rid of it somehow. Wesker had deliberately saddled him with the paperwork because he'd known how much he'd hate it, Chris was sure of that.

"What's up?" he asked as soon as Jill caught up with him, giving her a sideways glance as she fell in step next to him.

"You won't believe this," she said, with the kind of grin she only got when she was up to something. She looked downright elated, like she would burst if she didn't get to say what was on her mind. "Remember the new rookie that started here two weeks ago?"

Chris frowned a little. "Leo something?" He'd only seen the guy in passing, although he had meant to go introduce himself and actually get to know him, but he'd just been so distracted by this case and he ...probably would've forgotten his own head somewhere if it wasn't attached to him.

"Leon," Jill corrected, with a small headshake. "C'mon, he joined us for lunch the day before yesterday and you barely said a word to him. You really this swamped by the case?" She peeked at the folder curiously, before looking back up at him.

"You know how I get," Chris said, with a slight grimace. "I know I've been rude to him. I'll go say hi sometime."

"You should," Jill said, and the grin was suddenly back. "He just broke your record at the shooting range."

Immediately Chris froze in his tracks. He turned to look at Jill from huge eyes, mouth open in shock. "He what!?" Chris had thought his record had been downright impossible to break, it had been his for over a year and a lot of people - including Jill, who was good - had tried to break it to no avail. And now some rookie..?

"Broke. Your. Record." Jill enunciated, her grin widening a notch.

The grin disappeared the next second as Chris pushed the folder against her chest, letting go of it immediately so she had no other choice but to grab it so it wouldn't drop down onto the floor. "What? Chris! Hey!" She looked after him as he turned on his heels and rushed down the corridor. "This is your case!"

"Yeah yeah!" he called from the door, before bursting through it.

Jill stood there in silence for a second, staring at the closed door. Then she huffed out a laugh. "The rookie is so going to owe me."

*

Chris didn't really have a plan when he stormed down to the shooting range. Was he going to congratulate the guy or try to break the record again? He had no idea. Mostly he just wanted to see this newcomer who was apparently such a good shot that he managed to do that.

There was no one else at the shooting range and it wasn't hard for Chris to find Leon, even though he'd only met the man a couple of times before. Now that he was there, the wind kind of died out of his sails and he wasn't sure what to say, and gradually he slowed down until he stopped a few paces away from Leon.

There was a short bout of silence before Chris cleared his throat. "Hey," he said, and immediately cursed himself for sounding so lame. Except it only lasted for a second, before Leon looked up and Chris saw the prettiest blue eyes he'd ever seen in his entire life. It made all words die in his throat and he just stared, a little dumbly probably.

"Hi, Chris," Leon said, smiling, and that just... made things worse. It lightened up his entire face, making him even more attractive, and Chris had no idea how to deal with that.

"Hey," Chris said, again.

There was a short pause, before Leon laughed. "Okay, I heard from multiple sources how suave you are," he said teasingly, amusement dancing in his eyes. He wasn't exactly very subtle about how he let his gaze linger on Chris' arms, clearly checking him out. "If this is it, then I don't know, I might be a little disappointed."

"A little disap--" Chris started, but then he finally managed to shake himself out of the surprised stupor he'd fallen into. Laughing he shook his head, even rolled his eyes a little. "I didn't realize you wanted suave." He nodded towards the score card on the table, arching an eyebrow. "I heard you broke the record."

Leon just gave him a shrug and a grin. "I did pretty well."

"Pretty well?" Chris echoed, huffing out in amusement. "It's an unbreakable record! Not even though I promised that whoever breaks it gets my--" He let himself trail off. He had jokingly promised his guitar to whoever broke the record, as everyone knew it was his prized possession and he'd never part with it.

Yet he had seen the way Leon was checking him out. And if he was honest with himself, he hadn't met anyone quite this attractive before. He was curious, he really wanted to get to know Leon better - or at all, really - and maybe there was a way he could...

"Gets your..?" Leon prompted, after a short bout of silence.

Chris met his eyes straight, his grin a little cocky. "Gets a date. With me."

At that, Leon looked impressed. "Are you asking me out?"

"If you're interested, then yes," Chris replied without hesitation. "Would you want to go grab coffee with me?" He let his interest be shown, too, just to make sure they were both on the same page when it came to the mutual attraction.

"I would love to," Leon said. Then his smile morphed into a bit of a grimace, and he went on with a chuckle. "But I guess I need to..." He grabbed the score card off the table, handing it over to Chris. "I have a confession to make."

Frowning, Chris grabbed the paper. He looked down at it, squinted the numbers scribbled down, and it took a moment to compute. "But this..." he drawled, looking up into those stupidly gorgeous blue eyes, he was rapidly getting way too into them, damnit. "This isn't better than mine?" It was good, more than good, but it was still two points short of the record.

Leon grinned, a touch embarrassed, perhaps. "It's not."

"So you..."

"Got Jill to help me get you down here," Leon admitted, "so I could say hi and introduce myself properly. You've been so busy ever since I got here, and I didn't want to impose, but you seem really cool and really hot and--" He cut himself off, huffing a little. "See? I babble."

For a second Chris considered this. He was a little confused, a little surprised, but most of all kind of flattered that Leon had wanted to talk to him one-on-one this badly. So he decided that what the hell, he had nothing to lose.

"Alright," he said.

"Alright?" Leon asked, surprised.

"Alright," Chris repeated with a grin. "Coffee?"

It took Leon maybe a second to mirror the smile. "Coffee."

[makoodlesarchive]

bad dragon

here i am delivering content that NO ONE ASKED FOR !! this is nasty and i got super embarrassed just writing it but i hope you enjoy it anyway

honestly no one look at me, just let me indulge in this in peace

pairing: kirishima eijirou x fem!reader

word count: 10k

warnings: blowjobs, penetrative sex, virgin kirishima, lots of cum (like, a ridiculous amount), breeding (kinda), size kink?. it’s not exactly anthro bc everyone is human here but uhh non-standard genitals, i guess? kirishima has an unusual dick: pls see here for reference      OR     check out the amazing fanart for kiri’s dick !!

Tip Jar!

  dragon dick kiri masterlist!

                            »»————-　♡　————-««

Kirishima Eijirou was a perfect gentleman. He bought you flowers, he opened doors for you, he gave the sweetest goodnight kisses, he ate you out so good he had you seeing stars. You had the biggest, fattest crush on him, and you would be embarrassed about it if it weren’t for the fact that it seemed, at least for the most part, to be reciprocated.

The problem was Kirishima never let you touch him.

Whenever the two of you ended up in bed together, with the door firmly locked behind you, Kirishima insisted on sliding under the blankets and eating you out so enthusiastically he had your legs shaking in no time. It’s not like you would ever complain about that, but it definitely bothered you that he was never up for doing anything else. You would see the blanket shifting around as he jerked himself off furiously under the sheets as he tongue-fucked you, but whenever you tried to coax him out from beneath the sheets you were turned down with a soft, apologetic little smile.

You figured it must have something to do with his apparent commitment issues. Everytime you brought up the possibility of being a couple, or anything more than what you currently were (which, tragically, was nothing; just two friends occasionally getting hot and heavy) he brushed you off or changed the subject with a beautifully sunny smile and a laugh, so bright and cheery that you were successfully diverted every single time.

And it was fine, really. You liked Kirishima a lot, so you were totally willing to put up with a few odd idiosyncrasies. And okay, sure, if you were being totally honest with yourself, of course you wanted to be more than friends that flirt and kiss and mess around a bit. You couldn’t even technically call each other fuck buddies because he wouldn’t fuck you. But he was so sweet, and so handsome and kind and his tongue was so so good, that you would take whatever you could get from him. 

At least, that was until one afternoon.

April had brought with it blue skies and sun showers and warm breezes, and as the weather begins to improve your friends take to lounging out the front of the apartment complex. After graduating, renting places in the same neighbourhood just seemed like the next logical step. On days like this, where you all come together just to chill out in front of the complex, it seems like the best idea in the world. As you watch Kirishima chase Kaminari around the lawn, the two of them howling with laughter, something a little wistful twists in your stomach. It’s a familiar feeling, easy enough to shove away normally, but today for some reason you just feel… melancholy.

Maybe that’s why you do something you would never normally do. You turn to Bakugou, who’s aggressively chewing on candy as though it insulted his mother, and say, “Hey, um. Does Kirishima… does Kirishima ever talk about me?”

Bakugou’s jaw stills, and he turns his head very slowly to look at you. He looks mildly disbelieving, which is understandable. The two of you get along just fine, but you’ve never asked him anything personal before. “Why the fuck are you asking me that?” he demands through a mouthful of half-chewed toffee.

You shrug jerkily, suddenly mortified. Why are you asking something like that of Bakugou, of all people? “Never mind.” you say quickly, praying that he’ll just let it go and you can both move on and forget that you had ever asked such an embarrassing question.

A silence stretches between the two of you, long and taut, broken only by Mina giggling as she shows Sero something on her phone a few metres away. You could curse yourself for making things awkward between the two of you when you had been on relatively good terms, but then Bakugou turns to look at you so abruptly that you startle a little. “Look,” he says, jaw working absently as he chews his candy. “He likes you just fine, okay. Why aren’t you having this conversation with him, huh?”

You can’t quite meet Bakugou’s eyes. You don’t know how he can be so forthright all the time. “Um. I’ve tried, but he always changes the subject.”

Bakugou swears softly, glaring out across the lawn at Kirishima as he chases Kaminari, throwing grapes at his back. “I ain’t a relationship counsellor, okay? I get that it must be hard that he doesn’t cum when he’s with you or whatever, but you seriously need to work that out with him. What am I meant to do about it?”

“Right,” you wince, your body hot with embarrassment. Your mind sticks on something he just said though, and you turn back slowly to frown at him. “He… he doesn’t cum?”

“Hah?” Bakugou scowls at you, clearly annoyed that you’re still having this conversation. You’re not about to let up though, because you hadn’t known that.

“I-I didn’t realise that he didn’t-?” you trail off, mortified and horrified in equal measures. You had assumed all those times that he was jerking off under the sheets that he was getting himself off but just didn’t want you to see. You had never questioned the lack of mess because as soon as you were done he always left for the bathroom, returning a few minutes later with damp towels to clean you up with -- you had assumed he cleaned himself up in those moments of absence. How the fuck had you never noticed?  Why did Bakugou know when you didn’t? Oh god, had he and Kirishima talked about this?

Bakugou’s expression shifts as he apparently realises that he had just revealed something you hadn’t been aware of. “Oh.” he says, and his annoyance seems to have evaporated, only to be replaced by an intense discomfort. “Well. It’s not that big a deal, or whatever. I’m sure he still, uh, enjoys himself- fucking hell, can we stop talking about this?”

“Yeah.” you say a little numbly. You feel so stupid. Why had he never said anything to you? You had been under the assumption that he liked you back, but maybe you were totally mistaken. Maybe seeing your naked body turned him off to the point that he couldn’t actually cum even if hidden under the sheets and not looking at you. Maybe he never actually wanted to do any of that with you in the first place. There’s a stinging pressure building in the back of your eyes, and you have to look down at your lap and blink hard to stop yourself from doing something stupid like bursting into tears in front of Bakgou -- you don’t think either of you would live that down. “Uh. I think I’m gonna head up to my room, I’m really tired.”

Bakugou’s eyes widened a little, “Wait, are you-”

“I’ll see you later,” you smile and try to keep your voice as normal as possible, but even you can hear how forced you sound. You stand quickly and brush yourself off before heading back inside; you have to consciously slow your pace so that it doesn’t look like you’re running away, because you really don’t put it past Bakugou not to chase you down for cutting him off like that.

You bump into Jirou on the stairs and babble out an apology, escaping back upstairs to your apartment before she can ask you if you’re okay. The last thing you need is an audience for your imminent breakdown, but thankfully you don’t see a single other person on the way to your place. You shut the door to your room tight and lean your forehead against it to take a deep breath. It doesn’t do much to calm you down, so you turn and make a beeline straight for the bed. Throwing yourself dramatically on top of your bed covers feels a little cathartic, so you allow yourself the luxury of being dramatic as you bury your face into your arms and sigh. 

God, you wish Kirishima would have just talked to you instead of grinning that stupidly bright smile of his and changing the subject anytime you tried to talk or ask about the thing the two of you had together. At least then you would have been able to deal with any upset that may have been caused by that conversation by yourself, and you wouldn’t have had to get all upset in front of one of Kirishima’s best friends. God, how were you ever gonna look at Bakugou again?

You know that stewing by yourself like this isn’t going to help sort this situation out, but you just can’t find the energy to start thinking about what you’re going to do next. You don’t want to start thinking about that at all. You just need some time to yourself, just a little while to relax and breathe and just not think because if you start thinking you’re pretty sure you’re going to cry. You feel impossibly stupid.

When you hear a knock coming from the door, you want to bang your head off the wall. You can’t imagine anything worse than having to talk to someone and pretend that everything is fine right now.

“Y/N? Hey, is everything alright? Bakugou said you ran off.”

Aw, shit. Maybe you can imagine something worse.

You sit up sharply, staring at the door. This was so typical. Of all the people in the building, Kirishima is the last person you want to talk to right now. So of course it stands to reason that he would be the one to follow you straight to your apartment. “Everything’s fine,” you call back quickly, trying hard to sound like you meant it, “Hey, I’m just tired right now. Can we talk later?”

“Bakugou said you were upset.”

That traitor. You clench your jaw and scowl at the wall. “I’m-”

“I’m coming in, okay?”

“Wha-?” you stand up quickly, but Kirishima is already coming in and closing the door behind him. “Kirishima, I don’t-”

“Okay look, Bakugou said you were upset with me and I’m really, really sorry,” Kirishima blurts quickly, hands up in the air as if he’s being held at gunpoint, “He’s actually pretty annoyed at me right now, but he’s right, and-”

“I’m not-” you start, then pause to gather your thoughts. Bakugou was right, especially when he said you had to talk. And it was important this time that you didn’t let Kirishima divert you like he had been doing. “It’s not that I’m upset with you. Not really. I just- what are we even doing?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, so softly that it’s almost a whisper.

“I-” you swallow hard, brace yourself, “I really like you. I like spending time with you, and I’ve told you, or at least tried to, that I’d really like to, well, be- um, be more than whatever this is. And obviously I would totally get if you don’t want that, a relationship and stuff, but I want you to just tell me! Just say it, instead of changing the subject.”

“Wait, baby, please.” Kirishima steps forward quickly and stops just short of touching you, a bare few inches between you. “I like you so much, I never wanted you to feel this way. I just- it’s difficult to explain-”

“Do you...” you start to say, then sigh. You can’t believe you’re actually going to ask this, because it makes you sound so desperate, but you really need to hear him say it, “Do you not find me attractive?”

Kirishima makes a startled choking sound, “Wha-? Are you kidding? I find you so attractive! You’re so pretty, and your body is- is really nice, why would you think-”

“You never look at me when we’re in bed and-” you start fidgeting, horribly awkward. “I just want to be able to touch you.”

Kirishima steps forward, closing the distance between you and dropping to one knee. “Baby, I’ll do whatever you want,” he says, his hands coming to rest on your hips as his thumbs stroke circles into your skin. “You want me to touch you?”

“No.” you squeeze your eyes shut in frustration, realising that he had misunderstood. “I mean. Bakugou told me that you never cum when we’re together.”

When you open your eyes again, you see that Kirishima has gone stock still. His mouth is a little open, and you can see his throat working as he seems to fight for something to say. Very slowly, he gets back to his feet. “He shouldn’t have said that.”

You stare at him, at a loss. “Is it because-” you start, then trail off as you realise that you don’t even know what you’re trying to ask. You just want him to start talking so that you can stop asking all these stupid questions. “If you don’t want to have sex with me, you only have to say so, I would never pressure you into-”

“No!” Kirishima blurts, jolting forward. The suddenness of the movement seems to startle the both of you, but Kirishima recovers faster. “God, no, that’s not what this is!”

“Then, why?” you whisper, thoroughly confused. You had hoped that talking it out would help get some answers, but if anything you’re even more confused and insecure than you had been before he came to your room. “Did I- I mean, if I’m doing something that’s-”

“It’s not you.” Kirishima interrupts, covering his eyes with one of his large palms and leaning away from you. His hand is trembling a little, almost imperceptibly. “It’s not you. It’s me.”

The statement hangs in the air between the two of you like it’s a tangible presence. You stare hard at Kirishima, but he doesn’t remove his hand from his face. He looks a bit like he’s going to be sick. “What do you mean?” you ask quietly.

You’re guessing that this is where you get the ‘You’re great and all but I’m just not ready for a relationship. It’s got nothing to do with you though, I need to work through my own stuff’ sort of speech, and you have to brace yourself for it. Instead, Kirishima says something that you had not prepared yourself to hear in the slightest.

“I’m sorry.” you say, a little bewildered. You’re certain that you heard that wrong. “Could you- could you say that again?”

A flush has begun to crawl steadily across Kirishima’s face, made all the more prominent by the contrast of his hand pressed to his eyes. His ears are so red that they blend right into his hair. “I said,” he says, then takes an inhale, “That you’ll break up with me if you see my dick.”

You don’t actually know how to begin replying to that. For one, breaking up would require you to be in a relationship, which is something that he has been avoiding for a while now. You decide to address the bigger problem first. “Why would I want to break up because of your dick? Why would you even think that? Do you think I’m that shallow?”

“It’s got nothing to do with you being shallow,” Kirishima says slowly. You get the impression that he’s measuring his words, and his uncharacteristic reticence has you on edge. “It’s just that- I’m not, well, normal.”

You stare at him, a little taken aback. Kirishima had always had some issues with self-confidence, ever since middle school, but you’d always thought he’d worked through that in UA. You had never heard him talk about himself like this. “What’s that supposed to mean? Eijirou, lots of people are self-conscious about what they have going on downstairs. It doesn’t mean-”

“No, you don’t get it,” he interrupts. His hands have started twisting up the hem of his shirt, wringing it out and wrinkling the material. He’s frowning, and clearly starting to get agitated. “It’s not that I’m self-conscious about it- well, I am self-conscious about it, I guess, but it’s for a reason! I mean it, it’s not exactly… standard.”

Your face scrunches up in a frown before you can stop it. Not standard? “You’re worried it’s too small?” You guess. Your gaze drops to the crotch of his pants, where he’s subconsciously folded his hands. “Too big?”

“Um.” Kirishima lets out a nervous little laugh, several octaves higher than normal. “Yeah, I guess. It’s… it looks weird.”

“Eijirou,” your voice is soft now, most of your frustration melted away by the sight of Kirishima’s anxious fidgeting, “We live in a world where physical mutations are the norm; you really don’t have anything to worry about.” You pause for a moment, but Kirishima doesn’t respond immediately. The silence builds, until you try to break it with a light-hearted, “How weird can it be, really?”

Kirishima’s throat works as he swallows hard, but he’s nodding so you at least know that he’s listening. When he does speak, his voice is so low that you have to lean closer to him to catch what he’s saying. “I just don’t want to ruin this.”

Your heart twists, and the last of your frustration straight up disappears. You take a breath to steady yourself, then step forward and place your hands gently on his chest. A tremor works its way up his spine at your touch, but you don’t remark on it. “Kirishima.” you say firmly, and when he looks up and makes eye contact you try to keep your gaze as strict as possible. “You really have no idea how much I like you, do you? God, I like you so much, it’s stupid. I’ve wanted to be with you for so long. I mean, even if you never wanted to have sex I would understand, so long as you talked to me about it. Your dick is not gonna stop me from liking you, idiot.”

The fear of rejection is still plain to see on Kirishima’s face, but there’s something lurking just underneath that looks like hope. “I’ve never… I’ve never been with anyone like that.”

“You haven’t?” you ask, genuinely surprised. Not only is Kirishima perfectly sweet, he’s also extremely attractive. As an up-and-coming sidekick in Fatgum’s hero agency, you knew that he had no shortage of admirers. Even before that, in UA, you knew there were always people who had their eyes on him. He was so bright, he was hard to miss. 

He laughs, scrubbing at his eyes with his knuckles. “Uh, no. I mean, I’m not totally inexperienced. I mean, I’ve done oral and stuff, and I think I’m actually pretty good at it-”

“You are definitely pretty good at it,” you chime in, nodding and trying not to laugh at the flush crawling up his neck.

“I enjoy it, too!” he says quickly, as though trying to reassure you, “I enjoy it a lot. But I’ve never- I mean, no one’s ever touched me like that.” You feel your mouth drop open in honest shock. A little part of you couldn’t help but feel reassured that it wasn’t you he had a problem with, but that was mostly drowned out by surprise. Kirishima rushes on before you can speak, as though trying to say his piece before he runs out of steam, “It’s not that I didn’t want to, it’s just that it’s never seemed worth the fallout. Especially with you. I’m happy with being with you in whatever way I can, and I don’t want my stupid dick to scare you off or-”

“Oh my god, Kirishima, stop,” you say, and this time you really can’t hold back your laugh. “Your stupid dick isn’t going to scare me off. God, I can’t believe this is why you never let me touch you.” you step closer and press a soft, close-mouthed kiss to his lips. You hadn’t realised just how tense Kirishima was until he relaxed a little into your touch, the stiffness in his shoulders easing out as he sighed into the kiss. You pull back just a little, just enough that you can give him a cheeky smile. “Want me to give you your first blowjob?”

Kirishima’s whole body tenses right back up as his eyes shoot wide in surprise. “What?” he squeaks out, his ears turning scarlet.

You take his hand in yours and tangle your fingers together, before tugging him gently towards the bed. “I want to,” you assure him quietly, “No matter what your dick looks like, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Kirishima says as he sits at the edge of the bed. He’s breathing a little faster now, either from excitement or nerves. You’re guessing it’s a bit of both, because he’s clinging on tight to your hand even though he looks like he’s about to bolt. When you hook your fingers around the waistband of his shorts, he catches one of your wrists with his free hand. “If you- you know, if you change your mind after seeing it, just know that I won’t be mad or anything.”

He’s so quiet and earnest that you feel your heart melt a little looking at his nervously hopeful eyes. You take your hand back and climb onto his lap, pushing your fingers into his wild mop of hair. It’s the first time you’ve ever been close with him like this -- usually he would give you a sweet, gentle kiss and then dive between your legs, always keeping a frustrating amount of distance between your lower halves. This time though, he doesn’t try to divert you away. His hands grip your hips tight, and he leans his head into your touch. “I wish you would stop expecting me to push you away.” you murmur into the side of his neck, peppering little kisses into his skin. Kirishima lets out the smallest, choked off sounding whine at that, and tilts his head so that the long line of his throat is exposed. You take the hint, and start trailing kisses all along the soft skin at the base of his neck. “I told you, and I meant it; I want to be with you.”

Strong arms wind their way around your back and pull you close until you’re sat right over Kirishima’s crotch. You don’t even think it was intentional on Kirishima’s part, but you won’t pass up the opportunity when it presents itself to you. His shorts are bulging a little right in the centre where he’s starting to get hard, and you lower yourself down so that you’re grinding over him. He gasps at the contact, and his hips jerk up into you. “Oh, shit. I want you, so badly.” he gasps, his forehead dropping down to rest on your shoulder.

You have to admit, what you can feel through his shorts is… intimidating. ‘Yeah, I guess,’ he had said when you asked him if he was worried about his dick being too big. Judging by what you could feel pressing against you, that was a massive understatement, and he was only half-hard. You ghost your hands down over his sides, feeling his ribs expand with his breaths, sliding down until your hands reach the waistband of his shorts again. You push them down over his hips, and he lifts himself up to help you, and then he’s just in his impressively tented jockstrap. You smile reassuringly at him as you tug down the jockstrap, and then his cock springs free of the waistband and you pause.

“Oh.” you breathe.

“I know that it’s-” Kirishima begins to visibly panic, his hand reflexively shooting down to try and cover himself as he tries to sit up.

“It’s okay.” you say quickly, recovering from your surprise as quickly as possible. You still feel a little off-kilter as you slide off his lap to your knees in front of him. You know that you’re staring at his cock wide-eyed, but you can’t quite help yourself. It’s… well. It’s definitely not standard.

You reach out, your hand hovering uncertainly over his cock because you barely know how to begin. It’s thicker than a soda can, and long. Delicate ridges and swirls decorate the underside, with a series of bumps along the top. When you finally do grasp him in your hand, you’re rewarded with a barely stifled gasp and a hot spurt of precum that dribbles down his cockhead to your fingers. You use both your hands to explore his length, fingers trailing over all those strange ridges. The bumps along the top are apparently sensitive, because when you rub your thumbs over them Kirishima gasps and his hips thrust gracelessly into the air.

“Sorry!” he blurts as his cock dribbles even more precum. There’s so much of it that it looks like you actually used lube or something to slick up his cock, but you guess that this must be normal for him because he just looks embarrassed. “I- it’s sensitive, I guess, um- I usually put down a towel, because I tend to get, uh, messy.”

The way he says that and the connotations of it has your thighs squeezing together, and you take a deep inhale through your nose. It’s unexpectedly hot. “Gotcha.” you smile at him, trying to put him at ease as you return your attention back to his dick. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind if you make a mess.”

“Oh, shit. Uh, okay.” Kirishima says, and his breathing has gotten noticeably heavier now. He’s almost panting as he leans back on his elbows, craning his neck so he can get a look at what you’re doing. There’s a curious swell around the base of his cock that just seems to be growing. One of your hands travels down to it curiously, splaying over it and then rubbing it at it experimentally. His hips rock forward sharply, a huff of breath leaving him as he grunts a muted, “Fuck!”

The precum is oozing almost continuously now, spilling over with nearly every stroke, and your rubbing at the swollen base seems to be pushing even more out. It’s obscene, the copious amount of it and the way it’s stringing down onto your hands. If this is the amount of precum he produces, you can hardly imagine the amount of cum he’s going to produce. You wonder if ‘messy’ is another understatement.

You finally lean forward and lick an experimental stripe up the underside of his cock, lapping at the ridges and swirls. The moan that’s ripped out of him is needy and so desperate -- his stomach muscles are tensed with the effort he’s putting in to keep from rocking into your mouth, but his cheeks are flushed and his own mouth is lolling open, his eyes squeezed shut. You take that as your cue to take all of him in your mouth as best as you can, suckling at the tip before swallowing him down. You get about halfway before you have to pull back and try again. Your mouth is stretched obscenely wide around the girth of him, and you swear you can feel the weight of his dick pulsing on your tongue.

“Oh god, oh baby, oh Y/N,” Kirishima is babbling nonsensically, his head thrown as his hips make the sweetest little aborted rocking motions, like he wants nothing more than to let go but is trying his best to restrain himself for your sake. “Feels so good.”

You suck him as best as you can, but your jaw is starting to ache from being hinged so wide. You alternate between stroking his length and suckling on the head of his dick, tracing the swirls and squeezing the bottom. The swell at the base of his cock has engorged even further, and you prod at it curiously with one hand as you work his length with the other. It’s firm but oddly spongey, and everytime you poke at it Kirishima’s whole cock twitches.

When he gasps out your name you pull back and look up at him. He’s trembling, his shirt rucked up past his bellybutton and his gaze fixed unwaveringly on you. “You okay?” you ask softly, rubbing your thumb along one of the ridges under the head of his dick.

“Yeah,” he breathes, reaching down to cup your face. His thumb swipes over your bottom lip, and you realise that a string of saliva and precum is dripping down your chin. “But if you keep going I’m gonna cum.”

“Isn’t that kind of the point?” you laugh, and press a kiss right on his slit. His hips twitch and you dodge backwards just in time to avoid him taking your eye out with his hard on. 

“Sorry!” he looks mortified, and you can’t help but find his nervous fumbling absolutely adorable.

“Don’t worry about it.” you smile as you kiss your way down his shaft, prepared now for the intermittent jerking of his hips. You get to that swollen part at the base and place your mouth right at the bottom of his cock, before wrapping your lips around it to the best of your ability and sucking.

You had guessed that this swollen area was sensitive thanks to his reactions earlier, but you’re not quite prepared for the shout he lets out or the way his hand grabs onto the side of your head as he damn near rides your mouth. You’re totally startled by the reaction, but given the amount of times that you’ve done the same to his mouth you’re only too happy to indulge him. Plus, it’s the first time you’ve ever seen Kirishima fall apart like this. His cock is dribbling precum at a rapid rate the more excited he gets, and thick strings of it are pouring onto your cheeks. You think you should probably feel a little grossed out, but seeing Kirishima open-mouthed and panting as he rides your face like he’s hasn’t got a single other thought in his mind has you so turned on that your panties are getting sticky and uncomfortable between your legs. You stick your own hand between your legs to try and relieve yourself of some of the heat coiling up in your stomach, but the way that Kirishima’s rutting into your face throws off your coordination.

“Oh god, please, baby, please, put it back in your mouth, I’m gonna- fuck, Y/N, I’m gonna cum, please-” He begs, his head thrown back as he gasps.

How could you ever deny him when he pleads like that? You pull your head out of his grasp and sink your mouth back down on his cock, and then you just hold there and breathe as steadily as you can as Kirishima’s cock throbs in your mouth. His hips spasm, pushing his cock further into your throat. It almost feels like he’s getting bigger, as if he’s growing down your throat.

Kirishima is still babbling, a steady stream of senselessness about how good you’re making him feel, how beautiful you are, how lucky he is, until he cuts himself off with a gasp of “Baby, I’m- I’m-” and then he’s silent, his mouth hanging open as his whole body strains.

You try to suck him through his orgasm, but you are utterly unprepared for the sheer quantity of cum that erupts from his dick. Despite your intentions, you have no choice but to pull off his cock, choking a little on the cum that actually managed to get up your nose. You stroke him through it, feeling dazed as you watch him cum. You know it’s dripping from your chin, running in rivulets down your face. You wonder if it’s coming out your nose.

Kirishima seems to come forever, humping into your fist and whining and moaning the whole time. When his cock finally gives its last, exhausted spurt, his body falls limp against the bed. He’s gasping for breath and staring at the ceiling, looking like his soul had been ejected from his body along with the insane amount of cum. You notice the swollen part at the base of his cock has deflated almost entirely, to the point that it’s hardly noticeable anymore.

You climb up on the bed beside him and nudge him with your knee, a little concerned. “Eijirou? You good?”

When he looks at you, there’s a goofy smile splitting his face. “I have never been so good in my whole life.” His smile freezes as he catches a proper look at your face, caught between surprise, embarrassment, and something else. He reaches out to your face and swipes his fingers through the mess on your face. “Oh god, I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t be!” you hasten to assure him, squeezing his wrists. “It was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen!”

Kirishima stares at you as though he almost doesn’t believe you, but his cum is painted across your face and dripping down your chest, so he’s not in the best position to argue. “I told you I tend to get messy.” he breathes out a laugh, and then leans forward to kiss you, apparently not caring about the taste of his own ejaculate.

You hum into his mouth, your thighs clenching in excitement. “Eijirou,” you whisper into the kiss. When he pulls back, you bite your lip and smile at him, “Next time, will you fuck me?”

Kirishima inhales sharply, and his grip on your hips tightens to the point that the pressure is near bruising. “You really want that?”

“God, yes.” you blurt, shifting so that you’re straddling his stomach. You lower yourself down so that you’re grinding against his bare skin, and you can see the exact moment that he realises you’ve soaked through your panties.

He groans, and pulls at your hips to encourage you to grind against his stomach harder. “Shit, sweetheart. You don’t think it’s… kind of gross?”

“I didn’t expect the amount of cum,” you confess, wiping at your face with a helpless laugh, “But no, I don’t think it’s gross. I like it.” You whimper as Kirishima’s thumb slides over your swollen clit, the glide made smooth thanks to the slickness of your own arousal.

Kirishima is looking up at you as though you had hung the moon, and it’s hard not to get a little embarrassed under the intensity of his gaze. “Okay,” he whispers, “If you’re sure.” He glances down with a small frown, his lips twisted thoughtfully, “I don’t want to hurt you, though.”

“You won’t.” you kiss his nose, grinning as it wrinkles up under your lips. “We’ll make sure I’m stretched.” you glance over your shoulder at his still wet, softening cock. Even now, the size of it is intimidating. “And lube,” you conclude, “We’ll use lots and lots of lube.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, a smile starting to light up his face. He presses a sloppy kiss to the base of your throat, and you can feel the smile against your skin, “Yeah, okay. I’d really like that.” There’s still cum everywhere, all over your hands and chest and face and splashed across Kirishima’s legs and stomach, but he doesn’t seem to care about the mess in the slightest as he rolls the two of you over so that he’s hovering over you. The kiss he presses to one of your breasts is impossibly soft, and you tilt your head back and sigh as you feel his fingers trace over the lips of your pussy. “I’m so lucky to have you.” he whispers, then pushes himself down your body.

As his tongue flicks over your clit, you smile. It’s definitely you that’s the lucky one here.

_________________________

Kirishima’s complicated relationship with his genitalia had started in middle school. Up until that point, he had managed to remain blissfully unaware that there was any kind of abnormality in his nether regions. That changed one day in the locker rooms.

Having never paid any particular attention to what he had in his pants, Kirishima hadn’t thought anything of changing out with the rest of the boys in his class, as unabashed as any middle-schooler that hadn’t developed a sense of self-consciousness yet. He didn’t notice the whispers or stares until one of his friends nudged him hard. “Dude,” he said, glancing between Kirishima’s legs and then away, curiosity and mild revulsion mingled on his face, “What’s wrong with your thingy?”

“Wrong?” Kirishima had echoed, discomfort beginning to prickle beneath his skin. He hadn’t realised there was anything wrong with his genitals. He covered up quickly and finished getting changed, but the stares lingered.

No one said anything more about it to him, but by the end of the day rumour had spread that Kirishima was weird down there.

He had, like so many boys his age, taken to the internet to do his own research. It felt like a punch to the gut when he realised that his classmates were right -- his dick looked nothing like the dicks that all the guys in the videos he found had. There were exceptions, where the person’s genitals were affected by their quirk, but they were always full-body quirks that made it pretty obvious that what you were gonna find down below would be non-standard. His genitals didn’t match his body or his quirk, so his classmates must be right when they say that he’s weird with those grossed-out little laughs.

He learned pretty quickly to keep that part of him to himself, to change out quickly and efficiently in such a way that no one would ever see the parts of him that he’d rather keep hidden. He welcomes physical contact because he’s still an affectionate guy, but he’s always careful about the distance he allows between himself and others just in case they brush up against him accidentally and somehow feel that he’s different. When the boys in his class start excitedly talking about girls and other boys, and how nice it’d be to have a girlfriend or boyfriend, Kirishima tries to stay out of it. He doesn’t want to wonder about something like that when he knows that if someone were to find out his secret they’d be totally grossed out.

High school comes hand in hand with experimentation though, and Kirishima is lonely and touch-starved. He doesn’t want to avoid touch for the rest of his life out of fear that someone’s going to know. So he allows himself to indulge a little; he’s popular with girls in UA, a fact that surprises him. Unlike the girls in middle school, they haven’t heard the rumours that there’s something wrong with him, so they smile and chat to him and even flirt. It’s exciting and new and he allows himself to have just this -- he kisses them and he makes them feel good, and then he retreats when they look for more because he just can’t give it to them. 

When he tells you all this, you could swear that you feel your heart crack right down the middle. You hadn’t realised how lonely Kirishima was, wrapped up in a self-constructed blanket of self-loathing and disgust. You knew it had taken a lot of trust for him to open up to you like he had, but you hadn’t realised just how much. It makes your chest fill with some undefinable emotion, and you just want to hold him and never let go. 

You’re more determined than ever now to show him exactly how much you care about him, and exactly how much any physical anomaly doesn’t affect the way you feel in the slightest. You’ve been stretching yourself methodically and carefully every night of the week that has passed since you gave him his first blowjob in preparation to finally have sex with him. You just want him to feel good, and you don’t want him to worry about hurting you. And now, tonight, you’ve decided that you’re ready for it.

Bakugou’s the one that answers the door when you knock at their shared apartment, and his face does something funny when he sees you. He lets you in without a greeting, and yells for Kirishima as you shut the door behind you. It’s definitely a little awkward, because your last proper conversation was that day when he told you that your now boyfriend didn’t get off when you were together, but you smile and ask him how he’s doing all the same.

He just grunts at you and sprawls out on the couch, his attention fixed on his phone. You don’t try to make any further conversation, because you figure he probably won’t respond and you can hear Kirishima crashing around further down the hall anyway. You’re about to slip down the hall towards Kirishima’s room when Bakugou speaks again, surprising you. “You talked.”

You pause, confused for half a moment before the memories of your last conversation come flooding back. “Oh. Uh, yeah, we did.” 

Bakugou nods, still staring at his phone. You hover uncertainly, unsure of whether you should continue to Kirishima’s room or if Bakugou had something else he wanted to say. You don’t have to wait long; Bakugou puts his phone down and turns to survey you closely. “If you’re still here, then I guess you didn’t freak out.”

“There’s nothing to freak out over.” you say defensively, thinking of how sensitive Kirishima is about his body.

“I never said there was!” Bakugou snaps back instantly. You both glare at each other, but you don’t respond further. You came here for one reason, and that reason was not to start a fight with Bakugou when your boyfriend was waiting for you in the bedroom. When Bakugou speaks again, it’s with an awkward edge to his voice. “Whatever. Just don’t be an asshole to him.”

You realise that Bakugou is just trying to look out for his friend, and the revelation that you’re receiving Bakugou’s awkward attempt at a shovel talk is enough to have you reeling. “As if I would be,” you say, “I really like him.”

“Good. Fine.” Bakugou picks his phone back up and you take that as a dismissal. You’re just about to leave when he says, “By the way, keep it the fuck down. I don’t care if you’re taking dragon dick or if it’s Shitty Hair’s first time getting his dick wet, I don’t need to hear that nasty shit.”

His crudeness has you flushing hot with embarrassment, but you don’t dignify him with a response. You slip down the hall and up to Kirishima’s bedroom, knocking softly on the door before letting yourself in.

Kirishima is in the process of trying to stuff a pile of clothes into the bottom of his wardrobe, and he slams the door shut and whirls around when he hears you come in. “Hey!” he beams at you, trying to kick aside the pair of underwear that’s stuck in the edge of the wardrobe door.

“Hey, you.” you greet him. You’re still a bit flustered from Bakugou’s comment, but you hide it as best as you can as Kirishima sweeps you up in his arms and pulls you into a sweet, close-mouthed kiss.

In the week since you blew him the first time, the two of you have alternated between your apartments and spent almost every single day together. Some days you just touched each other with your hands, other days you used your mouths on each other. You still hadn’t gotten fully used to his enormous loads of cum, but he seems at least to be getting more and more comfortable with your touch. Even now, his hands trail up your sides as he presses eagerly into you; this boldness would have been unheard of coming from him only a week ago, but neither of you are under any illusions about what the two of you are going to get up to this evening.

You wind your arms around his neck and melt into the kiss, relishing the contact and the wet slide of his lips against yours. As his hands trail from your hips to your lower back to your ass, you feel the hard press of his lower abdomen nudge against you. You pull back and grin at him, “Someone’s impatient.”

Kirishima flushes, but he doesn’t pull away or deny it. Progress. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.” he confesses quietly, reaching up to nudge a flyaway tuft of hair out of your eyes.

“Yeah?” you grin, delighting in his openness. You take a small step back and look down at where his bulge is tenting the front of his sweatpants. “How long have you been like this, baby?”

“Pretty much since you texted me telling me you were thinking of coming over.” he says with a cheeky little smile, nudging his face into your neck and nipping at the skin there. “So, an hour and a half? Give or take.”

You hum as you cup his hardness through the cotton of his joggers. He groans and his hips jerk into your palm, as sensitive as ever. “Hey,” you murmur, “Wanna fuck me?”

Kirishima’s whole body twitches at that, and you swear you can feel his cock jump in his hand. “Now?” he asks, his voice gone a little hoarse from surprise and arousal.

“Unless you’d like to wait?”

“No! Now is good!” Kirishima says hastily, reaching out to hold your hips as though he’s afraid you’ll disappear. “God, now is so good.”

It’s really hard to hold back your laugh as you watch him scramble towards the bed, tugging you along with him. He’s excited, that much is obvious, and you really can’t blame him -- he’s gone so long thinking that he would never get to have this, that he would never be accepted like this. You want to give him everything.

His hands start fidgeting with the sheets as soon as he sits back on the bed. You straddle his lap and take his hands in yours before leaning in for a kiss, hoping to distract him from any nerves or self-doubts before they can take a hold of him. He hums happily into your mouth, squeezing one of your hands in his and using the other one to wrap around your waist and pull you closer.

“I’ve thought about sex with you so many times,” you admit when you pull away from the kiss. You reach up and stroke a line down the bridge of his nose, then push back a lock of his hair; it’s freshly washed and ungelled, lying fluffy and loose around his face. He’s looking up at you like you just hung the moon, open-mouthed and soft-eyed. It’s such a sweet look on him, and you love watching it contort into pleasure as you sink down to rub yourself against his hard on. “I want you to feel good.”

Kirishima makes a choked off whining sound in his throat as he grinds up into you. “You always make me feel good.” he says. You can feel his cock thickening and filling out against you, and judging by how clearly you can feel him, he’s foregone the usual jockstrap or protective cup he uses to try and hide his shape in his pants. 

You reach down and pull at his sweatpants -- you manage to get one leg off entirely, but the other gets stuck halfway down his left thigh and you’re too impatient to keep pulling at it so you just abandon it in favour of reaching for Kirishima’s now exposed cock. You’ve gotten familiar with the thick ridges and bumps of it over the past week, familiar enough for your fingers to seek out his sensitive spots without even looking.

He moans as you touch him, and dips his hands into your pants so that he can squeeze at your ass. His grip is a little too hard, bordering on painful as he bites at your neck. He pops open the button on your pants and shoves one of his hands into your panties, rubbing at your clit with his thumb and trailing his other fingers along your slit. 

You rub at the bumps along the tip of his cock, and you’re rewarded with a little squirt of precum. It dribbles down your hand and onto the sheets, and you wonder if maybe you should put down some towels to try and keep the mess contained. But Kirishima is letting out the softest little moans as he tries to rut into your hand and rub at your clit at the same time, and you decide that ruining the moment to lay down towels just isn’t worth it. A little mess is a small sacrifice to make.

When his fingers finally dip inside you, you feel his whole body tense up and still. “Baby,” he says, his voice soft and a little stunned, “You..”

“I stretched myself out before I came over,” you finish for him, pushing your hips back so that his fingers sink all the way inside of you. The lube still inside of you makes the slide effortless, and the look on Kirishima’s face is absolutely priceless. “I’m ready when you are.”

Those words elicit another little spurt of precum as Kirishima’s cock twitches in your hand. When you glance down, you see that the base of his dick is engorged and painful looking, and it only seems to be swelling. You only get to look for a moment though, because then you’re being flipped on your back and Kirishima is looming over you. “Oh, baby, oh shit,” he grits out through clenched teeth as his cock rubs up against the back of your thighs. “Are you sure you want to?”

“I want to, I want to so bad,” you promise him, kissing where you can reach on his face. You reach down and grip his cock, guiding it to your entrance, “Go slow, baby.” You’re so excited when you first feel the tip of his cock press into you that you’re not sure if the gush of wetness is from your pussy or his precum. You’re so turned on that you wonder if the amount of lube you had used was overkill, but then the length of him starts to stretch you out and you decide that yes, you absolutely did need that lube.

As soon as the tip is in, Kirishima stills over you. His head drops down, forehead making contact with your shoulder as he groans. You rock your hips experimentally, your breathing gone a little ragged as you realise that you can feel all those fleshy bumps and ridges, but Kirishima snatches at your hips instantly to still you. When he speaks, his voice is strained, “I’m not gonna last.”

Affection bubbles up in your chest as you look at his flushed face, his misty eyes. He’s practically trembling from the effort of holding back. “It’s okay,” you assure him, looping your arms over his shoulders and tracing little patterns into the skin of his back, “You don’t have to, it’s your first time. We have all the time in the world to go again and again, as many times as you want.”

Kirishima makes a garbled little noise in the back of his throat, and then he’s kissing you so sloppily and enthusiastically that drool begins to slip down your chins. It’s a little gross, but considering how much cum you’re going to be covered in soon enough you can’t be too fussy. When he pulls back, it’s so that he can look down and watch where his cock is entering you in increments.

The slow, inexorable stretch of it has your breath catching in your throat. You throw your head back on the bed and focus on keeping your breathing as steady as possible as he presses into you so, so slowly. After exploring the length of him with your mouth and hands, you knew he was big, but apparently knowing and feeling are two completely separate things. You feel like you’re being stretched impossibly wide, and when you glance down you see that he’s not even halfway in. 

Kirishima pauses suddenly, his breathing coming in short pants. You think that he’s just taking a moment to collect himself, to pace himself, but he’s frowning down at where the two of you are connected. “I dont- I don’t think I’ll fit.”

“Oh, you’ll fit.” you declare, jaw set stubbornly. His dick was already partly in you, and like hell were you giving up now. “Don’t worry. Keep going, Eiji.”

“You’re so…” he groans as he edges his hips forward, rocking his cock another inch inside of you, “So tight, you feel so wet and warm inside, oh god, so good, so good.”

The stretch is starting to sting, but you’ve prepared yourself well for this and it’s not so bad that you can’t breathe through it. When he bottoms out inside you, the tip of his cock hits your cervix and your whole body jerks hard at the dull ache it sends up your spine. “Fuck!” you cry out, your hips humping back into Kirishima’s of their own accord. You can feel every damn ridge and swirl grinding against your insides, and you clamp down hard around him, gasping. “Oh, shit.”

You’ve never felt so full in your life, and Kirishima’s cock doesn’t even fit all the way inside you. You wonder if you’re about to split in two. Your thighs are splayed obscenely wide, and you can feel your own body trying to suck him in further but there’s nowhere else to go because he’s filling you up so completely. Your chest is heaving as you pant for breath -- your thoughts have turned a little muddy, but even now you can see that Kirishima has frozen, his face tucked into your neck as he shudders with deep, panting breaths. Your shoulder feels wet, and you realise that he’s drooling on you.

“Eijirou,” you groan, “Move.”

His first thrust is hesitant, exploratory. He apparently likes what he feels, because he lifts his head up so that he can look at you properly. He looks totally blissed out, his eyes a little unfocused, and his expression alone shoots a bolt of heat straight between your legs. You breathe out a curse and move your hips down and into him, trying to encourage him to fuck you properly. When he thrusts forward again, the movement is accompanied by a vulgar squelching sound, and you realise that you’re probably being filled up with his precum. The thought makes you moan quietly, tightening up around him. 

Kirishima grunts and dives down so that your chests are pressed together, his arms pushing your legs up and to the side, and then suddenly he’s fucking into you for real. His moans sound like they’ve come straight out of a porn video as he shoves his cock as deep inside you as possible before pulling out and doing it again. All you can do is gasp against him as the breath is driven straight out of your lungs by his desperate humping.

His movements are nearly feral, jackhammering into you at a pace that probably should feel punishing but instead has you hiccuping out moans on every stroke. The size of him and the speed at which he’s fucking at you is overwhelming in the best possible way. He keeps gasping your name in between moans, his jaw lolling open as he pants for breath. “Oh, baby girl, you feel so good, so good for me. You like this?”

“Yes!” you wheeze, clinging to his shoulders as he rails you into the mattress. It’s better than you ever could have hoped for, and you’re nearly sobbing from the sheer sensation of it all. “Oh god, don’t stop!” You feel your abdomen drawing tight, heat beginning to build rapidly in the bottom of your belly, and you practically throw yourself down to meet his thrusts. “Please, I’m gonna cum, make me cum, Eiji!”

Kirishima practically snarls at that, his hand snaking down to your pussy even as he keeps rutting into you. His hand finds your clit and starts stroking at it hard and fast at a pace that matches his fucking. “Fuck yes, I wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

You know you’re starting to shake apart, his cock and his fingers too much for you. Your body is strung taut, your orgasm so close you can virtually taste it. As he feels you clamp down around him Kirishima lets out a whimpering moan, and with that you’re totally gone, head slamming back on the bed as you let out mindless, breathless little choking moans. It feels like your vision totally wipes out as you convulse in Kirishima’s arms, hips twitching wildly. 

When the euphoria of your orgasm finally subsides, you feel so totally fucked out that you hardly know which way is up. It takes you a moment to become aware of the way Kirishima is humping into you desperately now, hunkering over you and groaning. Feeling his cock slide in and out of your over-sensitive and still twitching pussy is almost too much, and you know you won’t be able to take much more of his relentless pounding. You clench around him as tight as you can and cup his sweaty face in your hands, smiling at the open-mouthed look of pure need he’s giving you. “Are you gonna cum inside me, Eiji?”

Apparently that was the correct thing to say, because you can see the moment that he hurtles completely over the edge. He shoves his cock as deep as he can get inside you and then he’s crying out as he begins to empty himself inside you. He keeps rocking, even though his cock is crammed as far into you as it’s possible to get, and you tremble and gasp as you feel his cum spraying inside you. It feels totally filthy, and there’s so much of it that you can feel it leaking out and down your ass even though Kirishima’s cock is still plugging you up. There’s so much cum that you actually start to wonder if your birth control is going to still be effective. You almost expect it to start coming out of your ears.

It seems like he’s cumming forever, and eventually he has to pull out because you’re just too full. As soon as his gradually softening cock is pulled free, it seems like a veritable bucketload of cum streams out of you and makes a mess of the bedcovers. It’s simultaneously really gross and really, really hot, and you don’t have the energy to unpack that so you just lay back and watch as Kirishima’s cock continues to dribble cum all over his legs and your abdomen. The swollen base of his cock is deflated now, and his dick eventually gives one last twitch and then he’s finished. 

He collapses on top of you, sweaty and soiled with his cum, but you don’t complain as he wraps you up in his arms and kisses your temples, murmuring soft, mindless praise into your hairline. “Are you okay?” he whispers, “Did I hurt you?”

You laugh a little, still winded. Your pussy is feeling achey from being stretched so wide, and you’re definitely going to have trouble walking tomorrow, but it’s the best kind of hurt imaginable. “You did everything just right.” you say, giving him a tired smile. “How was it?”

“If I could stay in your pussy forever, I would.” he says solemnly, the barest hint of a smile pulling at his lips.

You laugh properly at that, and roll over so that you’re lying across his chest. “Yeah? Well, I think you’ve just ruined me for all other cocks in the world. No one's ever gonna compare to how good yours feels.”

With your chin on his chest, you have a clear view of the way he flushes at your words, and the vulnerability that creeps into his expression as he looks at you. “Really?”

“I just came so hard it felt like the world was ending.” you grin at him, then press a teasing kiss to one of his pecs. “Yes, really.”

A smile breaks out on his face, toothy and dorky, as if he can’t believe his luck. “So… Would you want to do it again, maybe? Sometime?”

The smile you return is so wide it feels like it’s about to split your face. “Yeah, Eiji. Without question.”

It’s hard to kiss when you’re both grinning like total idiots, but the two of you make a valiant effort all the same. The ridiculous amount of cum painting the two of you is beginning to dry and flake off your skin, and it's definitely kind of gross but you’re so happy and sated and tired in that moment that you’re pretty sure nothing on earth could ruin the moment for you. Not even Bakugou when he comes pounding at the door and yelling obscenities in the form of noise complaints.

[yikesharringrove]

after star court Steves head trauma was severe enough where he got diagnosed with epilepsy and has minor seizures n gets confused easily, his parents dont care or bother to come home and help him so its mostly robin

I want to send all my love and thanks to @elysiumwaits and @a-bit-of-trash for all their help with this piece! 💕💕💕

Read on Ao3

-

The first time Robin noticed it, Steve was helping a customer at Family Video. 

He was in the middle of a sentence, i the middle of a transaction behind the register when his eyes drifted up towards the ceiling and his voice trailed off. His jaw shifted around and he chewed on his tongue.

It was like he was completely vacant.

It lasted a few seconds, and he snapped back in, finishing his sentence and continuing the transaction like nothing happened.

The customer stared questioningly at Robin, and she smiled tightly at her, waving as she threw Steve one last confused look and turned to leave.

“Uh, Steve?” Steve looked over his shoulder to her, humming in question. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“You, like, kinda went blank there. Like stopped talking for awhile and just. I don’t know, it was weird.” He furrowed his brows.

“What?”

“Yeah. You just kinda. I don’t even know how to describe it.” She was beginning to get nervous, if Steve just blacked out or something, and had no idea he did it, that can’t be good. “Has that happened before?”

“I have no idea. I mean, I didn’t even know it happened just now.” His voice was doing that thing it does before he gets in over his head. His pitch gets higher and his voice waivers a bit and his eyes go wide, and usually, this display ends with a panic attack.

“Hey, heyheyheyhey, hey. I’m sure it’s okay.” She tried to smile at him. She really isn’t sure it’s okay. But she can’t let him think his blank-out scared her.

-

The next time she saw it, she was sitting across from him on his couch, both their backs against either armrest, her feet in Steve’s lap.

Steve was in the middle of a story about Dustin, something silly he did earlier that day.

When his eyes fluttered. He stopped speaking mid-sentence again, his eyes fluttering oddly, his jaw working once again.

It was only a few seconds when he snapped back, picking up his story right where he left off.

“Steve, it happened again.”

Steve’s face fell.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. You stopped talking and kinda went blank. Just the same as last time.” She kept her voice even, didn’t want to scare him. But he began chewing on his bottom lip, his brows furrowing.

“I didn’t even know. I don’t know they’re happening. Do you think they happen often? And I just have no fucking idea?”

“I really don’t know, Steve.” And maybe her misstep was the lack of a condescending but endearing nickname.

Because Steve looked about a second from bursting into tears.

“Should I, like, go to the doctor? I mean, I’ve had a lot of concussions these past few years. It could be, like, my brain slowly turning to Jell-o.”

“Or maybe it’s nothing!” She said quickly. “If you decide to go to the doctor, I’ll come with you.”

-

It happened three times in the waiting room of the doctor’s office.

Each time like the last, a few seconds of Steve blanking out and his mind going elsewhere.

It was beginning to really fucking scare Robin. He already wasn’t the brightest, and now he has these lapses, these momentary blank outs that were beginning to take more of a toll.

He was having several a day that she knew of, and by the evening, Steve was sapped of all his energy, and so fucking confused, he would lose his train of thought before it even left the station.

“Alright, Mr. Harrington. What brings you in today?” Doctor Owens let himself into the room, taking a seat at the stool next to the examination.  table Steve was perched on.

“Uh, my doctor referred me. I’m having some, like, issues, I guess.” He looked expectantly at Robin. She sighed through her nose.

“He has lapses. He could be in the middle of a sentence, and he’ll stop speaking. Usually his eyes will drift and after a few seconds, he’s back.”

Doctor Owens was nodding at her seriously.

“Alright Steven. Do you black out for these episodes? Lose time?”

“I don’t even notice they’ve happened.”

“And anything else with them? Headaches? Confusion?”

“He gets confused if he’s had several in a day. I was with him one evening when he had five and by the time we fell asleep he wasn’t speaking clearly and couldn’t remember some things.”

Owens too a deep breath.

“I’d like to run some testing. It sounds like you’re experiencing minor seizures.”

Steve gawked at him.

“Seizures? But I mean, I haven’t been, like, it’s just a little, a little, brain glitch.”

“There are many different forms of seizures. And some can result in, confusion, black outs, and momentary lapses. They’re called absence seizures. And it sounds like, the number you’ve been having is indicative of epilepsy, but I’d like to run some more tests before saying one way or another.” He drummed briefly on the examination table, smiling and nodding at Robin before letting himself back out of the room.

Steve was staring at the wall in front of him.

“Seizures. Epilepsy.”

“Hey,” Robin leaned forward in her chair, placing one hand on his forearm. “At least it’s an answer. Diagnoses bring treatment.”

He gave her those big round puppy dog eyes that always made her heart break a little bit.

“Robin, I’m scared.”

It was barely a whisper, and Steve’s hands closed into shaking fists, clenching the fabric of his flimsy gown.

“I know. I know it’s scary. But I’m here, right? And we’ve dealt with a lot scarier than your brain electricity.”

He nodded at her shakily.

Doctor Owens returned then.

“Alright, Steven. We’re going to schedule you in for tomorrow for an EEG, a simple test to measure brain activity. It’ll give us a great view of what is happening in that head ‘a yours. Frankly, it’d be great if you had an event while doing the test. But, we’ll just see what’s going on in there, and figure out how to help you. That sound alright?”

“Uh, yes, Doctor. Thank you.”

-

The phone was ringing loudly by the time Steve pushed open the front door.

He had been quiet as Robin drove him home, and he had another small seizure in the car.

He picked up the phone, and she placed one hand gently on the small of his back as she passed by him into the kitchen.

“Hey, Dad.”

Robin sighed. This was the last thing they needed today. A call from Steve’s asshole father.

“Yeah, I had to use the credit card at the doctor. I’m having some testing done. No, not, Dad just listen. I might have epilepsy.” Steve’s voice cracked when he said epilepsy. He went quiet. Robin chewed on her bottom lip. “Just put Mom on, please.”

Robin was standing just on the other side of the doorway, listening intently. Steve always just assumed she was eavesdropping on his conversations.

“Hi, Mom. Yeah, the doctor said it could be epilepsy. I mean, I have like, a bunch of seizures. Been having them for months now. And I’m just- I mean, can you,” he went silent, no doubt listening to his mother speak.

It was a few minutes of silence before he spoke again.

And dear God, she really thought she was gonna fucking cry.

“Mom, can you please just come home? I have a big test tomorrow and I’m. I’m just scared. And I want my mom.”

And then more silence. And Steve sniffed.

“Yeah, no, uh, it’s okay. No really, Mom. I’m okay. I’ll be-enjoy the rest of your trip.” There was a click as he set the phone down on the receiver.

She waited for him to show around the wall, let him take a moment to himself.

He slunk around the divider, not meeting Robin’s gaze.

“I assume-”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” she cut him off quickly.

“Thanks.”

And they didn’t.

They didn’t talk about the looming appointment the next day, the hours of testing Steve was going to have to sit through.

They didn’t talk about the way his mom didn’t bother to even pretend she would come to support him through his nerves.

They talked about shit that didn’t matter- awful costumers at Family Video, Keith repeatedly asking robin out and never getting the hint she wasn’t into him, they even unpacked the entirety of the Star Wars trilogy, as Steve fell asleep nearly every time they tried to watch it.

Steve hugged her tight before she drove herself home in her mom’s old station wagon. He did that thing he does where he buries his face into her shoulder and takes a real big breath and kinda seems like Robin’s the only thing keeping him together, kissing the top of her head once before she pulled away.

He woke up groggy, a spot of drool on his pillow. The phone was blaring on his nightstand, and he barely rolled over to slam it against his ear.

“‘ello?”

“Steve, oh my God. I’m so so sorry,” Robin babbled into the receiver, barely breathing as she hurled her words at him. “I got called in to cover for Amanda today, and Keith said he’s called everyone, and if I can’t work today, he’s gonna call you, and you can’t miss the test, but I feel like such shit, I promised I’d come with you, and with your mom not coming in, I said I’d drive you, and now I can’t, and Steve, I’m so sorry-” she sounded frantic, almost like she was close to tears.

“Rob, hey, it’s alright.” It wasn’t. Not really, but he understands. And he’s a grown up, after all. He can go to the doctor by himself. “It’s okay. Just come over tonight if you want to.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll be over right after I get off. Maybe Amanda can come relieve me or something. I’m so sorry.”

She sounded sorry. She sounded absolutely miserable.

“Rob, honest, no hard feelings. I can just go. I’ll be okay. See you after.”

“I’ll bring dinner! Or, or snacks, and I can bring a few movies with me afterwards-”

“That sounds great. Look, I gotta go take a shower and get ready. I’ll just, I’ll see you later. After the-the thing.”

“Yes! Yeah, Steve, really I’m so so sorry.”

“I know. Don’t worry. I’ll see you later, Rob. Love you.” He scrubbed a hand down his face, melting further back into his pillows.

“I’ll be there! And I love you a whole lot, okay?”

“Yeah. I know. It’s really okay. I promise.”

He didn’t let her get another word in, slapping the phone back onto the hook.

Really, he had no hard feelings. It’s not worth it to be mad at her for this. He just doesn’t want to sit on the phone with her while she apologizes some more

It just fucking sucks.

He’s fairly certain he had a seizure in the shower. He doesn’t totally know when he has them, but he’s beginning to recognize the time passing, the way he just feels tired after.

He took his sweet time getting ready, dreading the impeding appointment and all the testing, making sure to wear comfortable clothes, hoping they wouldn’t make him swap out his soft crew neck sweatshirt for a flimsy hospital gown while he sat through everything that was about to happen.

And only when he got outside did it really hit him that Robin won’t be going with him.

Owens said to avoid driving until they could find out more about his episodes. Find an epicenter and maybe a trigger. It’s dangerous as all hell to have him blanking out on the road. Which is something Robin suggested in that overly calm voice of hers when the seizures started getting more frequent.

Robin’s been driving him everywhere the past few weeks. And she was going to pick him up for the appointment.

Fuck.

He has no one to call.

Well, he could call someone, but that would take all the energy of explaining all the shit he hasn’t told anyone yet about his issues, and that’s a can of worms he doesn’t feel ready for on a Thursday morning.

Claudia would only ask more questions than he had answers, and he doesn’t think he could stand seeing that sad look Nancy’s always got on her face when she sees him nowadays.

And he doesn’t think things won’t be awkward between him and Jonathan.

Okay.

Looks like he’s gonna drive himself.

He actually buckled himself in, something he almost never did, and took everything as slowly as possible, creeping down his neighborhood at an almost comical pace.

If he has a seizure, and blanks out for a few seconds, he wants to be able to mitigate any damage. Either stop himself from going too far in the first place, or give others enough time to move out of the way from his slow moving death machine.

His grip was so tight on the steering wheel his knuckles were white, hands clammy and no doubt shaking.

“Just breathe, Stevie. You’re doing just fine. Plenty of time to get there.” He hadn’t turned on the radio, wanted to keep a laser focus on the road. “You’re not going to blank out, and you’re not going to hurt anyone.”

He kept up that monologue as he made the slowest left-turn possible onto the road that led into town.

He had the overwhelming urge to bounce his leg, trying to keep himself still and focused.

And the next thing he knows, he’s idling at a stop sign with the Chief of Police knocking on his window.

Fuck.

At least he didn’t hurt anyone, or crash his car horribly.

He cranked down the window, giving Hop as much of a smile as he could muster.

“Kid, what the fuck? I’ve been tapping on that window for a full minute. You were just, sittin’ there.”

Shit. He’s gonna have to come clean.

“I, uh, I’m actually going to an appointment. With Owens.” Hopper just continued staring at him, his face gruff, his brows drawn. “I got some. Brain stuff.”

And then Hopper’s face fell.

“Shit, why didn’t you let any of us know?”

“Because, well, they don’t know what it is yet, but I, uh, I’ve been having, like, seizures,” Steve could feel it, the lump rising in his throat he’s been ignoring since yesterday, the nerves and sadness and confusion all welling up. “And Owens is gonna run some tests because he thinks I have epilepsy now, from being tortured, and I don’t know what’s happening to me, but it’s like I can’t even control my own stupid brain, and I’m so fucking scared, and-”

This is fucking mortifying.

Sitting in his car, crying, in front of Hopper.

Who looked like he had no idea what the fuck to do.

“Okay, uh, just take some deep breaths, okay? Why don’t you, uh, go get in my truck, and I’ll take you to the appointment. I can leave your car parked over there,” he pointed at the side of the road beyond the stop sign. “You don’t seem in much shape to be drivin’.”

“Sorry, I’m not-not supposed to, but I had no one to call-”

“Hey, I hope you now that’s not true.” Hopper reached through the window to place a firm hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I’ll take you, and I’ll drive you on home after.” And he opened up the door, and Steve nearly got tangled in the seat belt as he tried to step out of the car. “Shit, you weren’t kidding.”

And Steve felt like a fucking child as Hop reached over him to unbuckle him, and actually help him out of the car.

He finally noticed the truck parked behind his car, and got himself tucked into the passenger seat as Hopper moved the beamer to the spot he indicated, double checking he locked it before jogging back to the truck.

The ride was silent all the way to the hospital, Steve tying his fingers up in knots and trying not to throw up.

Hopper didn’t just drop him off, he actually walked with Steve into the building, escorted him all the way to the exam room.

He sat in the chair Robin usually occupied, settling his hat on his knee.

Wait, he’s fucking on duty.

“You don’t have to stay. I could, like, call the station when I’m finished here.”

“I’ve got nowhere to be. Not a lotta shit goes down in this town on the off-season.” He smiled grimly at Steve, who just nodded blankly.

And Owens took that time to break the awkward quiet between them, opening the door with Steve’s file tucked under his arm.

“Steven! Good to see you again. Let’s get into that head of yours, shall we?” He shook hands with Hop, turning back to Steve with a grin that was probably meant to be jovial and endearing. “Sorry to see that girlfriend of yours won’t be joining us today. Trouble in paradise?”

“We’re just friends. And she’s working.” His voice felt heavy, like it took effort just to make himself speak.

“Doc, for my own sake, Harrington here hasn’t quite gotten me up to speed with the testing today.”

There was a short rap on the door, and a few nurses entered the room, bringing a rolling metal tray with a few tubes and a long syringe, and a large machine, wires spilling out the side.

Steve barely reacted as they took his blood, pressing his shoulders gently to coax him into a supine position, relaxing against the exam table.

“We’re going to begin with an E.E.G., or, an electroencephalography.”

Something sparked in Hopper’s eyes.

“That’s what Will had, right? To monitor brain activity, or what have you.”

“Exactly. We use them to understand and diagnose seizure disorders. Steven’ll be here for about an hour or so.” He washed his hands quickly at the sink in the corner, turning back to Steve and looking at him pensively. It made Steve feel oddly self-conscious. “It’s completely painless.” He smiled weakly at Steve, maybe misjudging his general discomfort at being looked at for prolonged periods of time as fear.

Which sure, he’s got some real fear surrounding this test, but not the test itself. He’s more dreading the follow-up appointment he’s gonna have to have for his results to be read and explained. If he’s got epilepsy, or not. If this is what the rest of his life is gonna look like, or not. If he can drive or go to college. If it’ll all just get worse.

One of the nurses, the one with a nice round face that had taken his blood a few moments ago, was marking out spots on his head, along his hairline.

And before he knew it, small sticky pads were being stuck to him, one on each spot she had marked out, and more dotting back through his hair, the nurse smoothing it down and parting it awkwardly in many places to get the little pads as close to his scalp as possible.

“Alright. You ready, Steven?” Owens didn’t wait for a response before he began fiddling with the large machine, bringing it to life.

It was kind of like what Steve saw in a video once about seismographs. A little arm scratching out tremors in the Earth on a sliding sheet of paper.

Only this one was detecting tremors in his brain. Tremors and errors and everything that was going wrong in there.

“So, Chief. What brings you in here with Steven today?”

Steve wanted to tell Owens just to call him Steve, but he kinda feels like it’s past the point of when he should’ve corrected him, and now, it’d be kinda weird.

“Drivin’ the kid in. Can’t have him crashing his car. I think the last thing his head needs is another bonk.”

It made Steve smile, nearly made him laugh as the machine scratched away beside him.

“Good to see you’ve taken my advice.”

“Robin drives me almost everywhere. We work the same shifts and she picks me up after school. It works pretty okay.” The whirring of the machine kinda made Steve want to fall asleep.

“Your parents don’t drive you?” Hopper looked a little too interested. Steve tried to play it cool.

“My dad works quite a lot.” Hopper tightened his jaw and Steve kinda felt like a little kid again. “He, uh, travels for work a lot. And my mom likes to go.”

It was like the air in the room totally went cold.

“Kid, do they even know you’re here today?”

“Yes! I called them last night. Pretty much begged my mom to fly in but she-”

And it was the first Owens had seen one of Steve’s seizures for himself.

He cut off mid sentence, his eyes, that had just been wide and clear a second before, went blank, and dim, nearly rolling back in his head. The E.E.G. noted the seizure, tracking brainwaves that were even more abnormal than had been presented already. His jaw worked as though he was trying to speak, and as quickly as it happened, Steve seemed to snap back into himself.

So, maybe emotional duress? Stress? That should definitely be examined as a possible trigger.

Owens scribbled that down on Steve’s chart as Steve shook himself, smiling benignly at Hopper.

“Sorry. Uh, lost my train of thought, there.”

And maybe Hop was able to see that talking about Steve’s family could bring on another, or maybe he just got scared of watching Steve have a seizure and decided to walk on eggshells, but he just smiled back. Brought up a story about Eleven from earlier in the week. How the two of them had played a game of Monopoly that lasted nearly six hours and had both of them close to tears by the end of it.

The test was okay by Steve’s standards. Pretty easy on his end. All he had to do was lay back and let the machine do work. He’s pretty sure he had an episode or two, based on the way Hopper would go all pale and look at Steve like he was sorry for him.

Hopper had to step out near the middle of the test to make a phone call, Steve figured to the station to let them know he was otherwise occupied, or something like that. Or at least, that’s what Steve hoped, and not that Hopper was putting calls in to his father’s work and getting in touch with him via his secretary, or something awful like that.

He’d rather not have the Chief of Police call his parents from the hospital to scold them for not accompanying Steve to his Big Scary Medical Test.

He felt about ready to fall asleep when the machine was finally turned off and nurse returned, removing all the sticky pads as gently as possible from his head.

Owens looked over the paper carefully, folding along the perforations and clipping it against Steve’s chart.

“So, Steven, can we see you a few days from now to go over these results?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Go ahead and schedule that with the front desk,” he finished in the doorway, giving Hop a curt wave and swishing off to something else.

“You ready to be home, kid?”

“Fuckin’ absolutely.”

That made Hop huff something close to a laugh, and he kinda fluttered about while Steve stood up from the examination table, like he wanted to help Steve up, help him manoeuvre around.

Steve went through all the typical stuff at the front desk, handing over his father’s credit card along with their insurance information, scheduling another appointment three days from then.

He was tired, and just felt so fucking awkward that Hopper had been here to witness Steve’s prolonged physical breakdown.

Hopper led him out of the hospital and back to the truck, driving him home with the radio playing quietly. Steve stared out the window, watching raindrops sprinkle onto the car and rush down the window.

They passed Steve’s car a few blocks away from his house, and by the time they pulled up, Steve was almost too tired to notice another car parked in front of his house.

But he couldn’t ignore Joyce’s tight hug when he made it to his porch, and suddenly Hopper’s phone call made sense.

Will was standing behind her like a shadow, holding a baking dish and three clear glass bowls, all stacked up and covered in tin foil.

They brought him dinner.

It kinda made Steve wanna cry.

He fumbled with his keys letting them all inside, tugging awkwardly at the sleeves of his sweatshirt as he led Joyce to the kitchen.

Hop grunted something about walking to get Steve’s car, easing the keys out of his hands and taking off down the road.

“Steve, Honey, why don’t you just take a seat. We’ve got this.” She smiled and pushed him softly towards the kitchen table.

And he really wanted to help her heat everything up. For fuck sake’s she brought him dinner, he wants to do something, but he’s so goddamn tired.

He sat down slowly, tucking his left leg up under him as he watched Joyce and Will in his kitchen.

They set the dishes to heat up slowly in the oven, going through cabinets to find dishes and flatware to set the table.

Steve’s family almost never ate in the kitchen.

When his parents were home, they almost always sat together in the formal dining room, eating in stilted silence before heading their separate ways.

It was kinda nice, hearing the two of them talk softly to one another, letting Steve just kinda zone out a little bit, tracing the wood grain of the table with the pads of his fingers.

Until his front door creaked open in a way that only Robin could make happen, and he was being hugged tightly from behind.

“Steve, I came as soon as I could. I’m so so sorry I couldn’t come. How was the test? Did they tell you anything yet? Keith was being such an ass today, I almost punched him right in the-” She cut herself off when she noticed the Byers standing near the oven, still clinging onto Steve from behind. “Uh, hi. Sorry,” she stammered. She didn’t do well being taken off guard. Steve sometimes thought it was kinda funny.

“Hi, Sweetheart. Let me just set you a place for dinner. Hop’s moving Steve’s car, he’ll be back in a second and this should be hot enough to eat.”

Robin finally relinquished Steve, keeping one hand on his shoulder that Steve covered with his own.

“Oh, uh, that’s okay. I just wanted to check on Steve, I don’t wanna intrude-”

Joyce waved her hand, shaking her head.

“We invited ourselves into his home. As long as Steve says it’s okay, you’re more than welcome. There’s plenty.”

“Steve looked up at Robin, pretending to think it over.

“I don’t know,” he sighed dramatically. “I don’t really like you, so I don’t want you to stay.” He scrunched up his face when she hit his shoulder. “Take a seat, Buck.”

They could hear heavy footsteps in the hall, the door being closed quietly behind Hopper, and the jingle of Steve’s keys being deposited in the glass bowl on the small sidetable next to the door.

Robin stood to help Joyce and Will bring all the dishes over to the table, and fuck, Steve’s hungry. He hasn’t eaten all day since most of it was spent feeling like he could throw up his spleen.

But Joyce had brought a rich lasagna, and the creamiest mashed potatoes Steve has ever tasted, and these fucking string beans that were so good and crisp, Steve must’ve demolished half the container of them. 

Conversation was kept light and nice, and Steve figured Hopper had filled Joyce in on the nitty-gritty of the test and everything to do with what Steve has been not so subtly hiding from everyone but Robin.

It was still nice to let the sleeping dog lie, even if Steve did find himself no doubt post-seizure with his hand sloppily in his mashed potatoes and everyone staring at him.

And after finishing two of the brownies Joyce had brought, Steve was struck with such a huge wall of tired, it was like he could barely even keep his eyes open.

“Well, we should take our leave.” Joyce leaned back in her chair, Will looking just as sleepy as Steve felt.

“Seriously, Mrs. B. Thank you so much for this. So much.” Steve didn’t even have the words in him to explain his gratitude, but sometimes he thinks Joyce has the ability to read his mind, so it works out.

She just squeezed him in another tight hug, Will following with one of his own before Robin walked them to the door.

“You call if you need anything, okay? Even if it’s just some company. El’s been on this real Miami Vice kick, she’ll talk to anyone that’ll listen about that damn show.”

It made Steve nearly laugh, picturing El sitting in front of the television, watching Miami Vice with as much determination as she does everything.

“Thank you, Hop. Today probably would’ve been a lot more shit if you hadn’t’ve seen my car.”

“Anytime, Kid. And quit tryna hide that shit. We’ve all been fucked up by what happened. Doesn’t mean you’re broke or somethin’.”

And Steve really fucking doesn’t wanna cry anymore today.

He blinked rapidly to keep the tears at bay, Hopper doing him a solid and studying his own watch.

“Alright, my little twerp’s been at the Wheeler’s all day. I gotta pick her up. Take it easy, alright?”

“Yes, Sir.” Steve gave him a lazily sarcastic salute.

Hopper rolled his eyes, putting his hat back on.

Steve slunk to the couch as Robin locked up behind the chief, flopping down near his feet.

“I brought Raiders of the Lost Ark as an apology gift.”

“I’m gonna make you watch it a million times.”

Robin slapped his leg, a gesture that was immediately undercut by her draping a soft blanket delicately over him.

“Marion Ravenwood is hot enough I stay invested.”

She sat back down after putting in the tape.

“So, how was it today?” Her voice was way too casual.

“It was okay. Test was fine enough, and hanging out with everyone was good.”

“Are you, like, gonna maybe reach out to them more? Because, you know, they know now.”

Steve chewed on the inside of his cheek, tugging at a loose thread in the blanket.

“Probably. Not that you don’t do a lot for me, but, uh, it was kinda nice to have grown ups around.”

“You know I’d do anything for you, but I think it was kinda nice too. Especially-” She cut herself off, letting the especially since your mom couldn’t be bothered to show up hang in the air between them.

The opening trailers had begun on the rented tape, and Steve closed his eyes, snuggling deeper into the couch.

“Thanks, Rob. Love you.”

“Yeah, Dingus. Love you too.”

[tsukishimaenthusiast]

hb a scenario where reader and tobio are best friends and they are practice kissing and it leads to a make out session 👀 and he’s actually a really good kisser so it throws her off guard

practicing kissing with kageyama

nonnie, this shit is GAS

also my plot was like ,,,, also making this kags first kiss so i hope that’s ok !

update! ok pt.2 is : here

“and hinata always talks about how i’m not popular with girls! he can sometimes barely talk to shimizu senpai… and we’re with her everyday!”, kageyama yelled. you laughed at his complaints. kageyama was going off on another tangent about hinata while you helped him with his homework in his room. “i meannnn, he does have a point,” you added. kageyama gasped, probably because you agreed with someone he had just complained about. “that’s not true. i have you,” he reasoned. you rolled your eyes at him. “that’s not the same, tobio! we’re best friends; we already had a relationship established. just say you’re pressed and go,” you argued. kageyama lightly threw his notebook at you to retaliate.

“have you ever even kissed a girl, tobio?” he folded his arms and nodded. “WHAT???”, you shouted. “in first grade. she came up to me and kissed me. and i ran away crying,” he said. you stared at him blankly for a few seconds before bursting out with laughter. “AHAHAHAHAH!!! YOU’RE JOKING!”, you wheezed, trying to catch your breath. “i meant an actual kiss, idiot.” kageyama narrowed his eyes at you but relaxed them again. “never… why? how many people have you kissed?”, he asked. “i dunno…three? four?”, you answered. he seemed a little shocked but hummed as a response nonetheless.

kageyama soon spoke up again, “were you nervous? like… have you ever wondered if you’d be bad at it or not?” you thought about his questions for a moment. “not really… although i do regret my first kiss. i was super nervous for that one, so it was probably a bad kiss,” you answered honestly. “why?”, you asked. “i would probably be nervous for my first…” you pushed yourself back to lay on his bed. “maybe we should practice then,” you suggested sarcastically. “really??”, kageyama asked. you immediately sat up again. “woah, i was just-“ kageyama cut you off, “i can practice with you so that i won’t be nervous for my first real kiss.” you stared at him in disbelief. you started laughing but stopped when you realized he was being completely serious. “i-i guess?”, you said.

you and kageyama had cleared all the notebooks and textbooks off of his bed and sat next to each other. “well… um. from personal experience, i usually just start kissing someone normally. like this…” you leaned in and gave kageyama a short kiss. you pulled away and noticed that he was slightly blushing. “obviously it’s more than one, though.” you leaned in again, except this time, kageyama started puckering his lips to kiss you back. his lips were surprisingly soft… and he wasn’t rushing anything. you two kissed like that for only a little while longer, then you pulled away. if you were being honest, you were kind of flustered. you were expecting him to mess up or something. “then…then uh, either myself or the person i’m with will start using tongue… i’ll initiate it since this is just practice for you, but you should also learn how to do it yourself.” kageyama stared at your lips in anticipation.

you leaned in again. when your lips were against his, you slowly sneaked your tongue out to lick his lips. you don’t think kageyama realized what you were trying to do, so you kind of opened his mouth yourself by pushing your tongue through his lips. you felt his breath hitch as you did it. he gracefully moved his own tongue against yours. damn, he wasn’t so bad at this… you automatically placed your hand on his thigh and felt him tense underneath you. for some reason, it made you excited. you slid your hand up a little and squeezed, causing his breath to hitch again. you felt yourself grow hot so you decided to pull away. however, your face stayed only a couple of inches away from his.

kageyama’s face was flushed with a beautiful shade of his pink and you noticed that his eyes seemed darker than when you two first started. you thought you guys were done, but kageyama leaned in… to the point where your noses were barely brushing up against each other. he titled his head and shoved his tongue in your mouth. it caught you off guard so you gasped, allowing kageyama to give you an open mouth kissed. he reached one hand over you and placed it on your waist. he squeezed your hip and pulled you onto his lap.

as you moved on top of him, kageyama sucked on your tongue. you weren’t sure if it was an accident or on purpose, but damn did it turn you on. you could feel that kageyama was hard under you and you subconsciously grinded on him. you accidentally let out a moan and froze. kageyama looked into your eyes and let out a deep breath before pushing down on your hips, kissing you again. his kisses grew rougher, but you couldn’t complain… he was really good.

your tongues continued moving against each other, but only for a couple more seconds… because you ended up getting a phone call. you jumped off of kageyama’s lap and answered. “-yup, okay! got it.” you hung up the phone and turned back to look at kageyama. “it was my mom. i have to pick some things up at the store… and she wants me to be home soon,” you said. kageyama cleared his throat, “oh uh, yea. okay.” you started packing up your things to try to avoid him but you could still see him awkwardly stand up and fix his pants in the corner of your eye.

you two stood near his bedroom door since you were just about ready to leave. “y/n… thanks for uh, helping.. me today.” he seemed unsure by his “gratitude.” you bit your lip out of embarrassment, “no problemmm.” both you and kageyama awkwardly stared at each other for what was probably too long. “well, bye!”, you blurted, quickly opening his door. “yeah! see you tomorrow!”, he babbled.

this fr has potential for a pt.2 but idk,, it can go SO many ways … if u guys have ideas lmk😌😌

[weepylucifer]

Tosses another dinluke at you. This one’s about caring for each other

Luke awakens from uneasy sleep filled with nightmares, and immediately can tell that today is going to be terrible.

The occasional phantom pain in his wrist, that he can take. The old, flaring ache, the strange feeling that the hand is still there, which somehow makes both wearing and not wearing the prosthetic feel uncomfortable - well, it’s a drag, but it’s only one part of his body. With meditation to aid him, he finds he can usually sequester it off, away from the rest of him, and go through his day more or less like normal. But sometimes, each and every scar caused by the Force lightning clamors in pain, especially when he’s been dreaming about how he got them. This is the worst, because he hasn’t found a good way to cope with it yet. He can’t make the pain stop, and it’s driving him up the walls.

There’s no way he can teach his padawan like this.

Fortunately, Grogu’s father is visiting, and will probably be more than happy to entertain the kid for a day.

Luke hasn’t gotten the measure of the Mandalorian yet. He talks little, projects an aura of intimidation, being covered in armor all over like that, but he seems very attached to his child, so attached that Luke reckoned upon getting Grogu that breaking their bond would do a lot more harm than good. He’s come over for a few visits to far, and he practically curls over Grogu like a loth-cat over its young. But Luke doesn’t exactly know anything about him besides that.

Also, it’s dawned on Luke that he knows nothing about Mandalorians. He knows Boba Fett is one, but that’s pretty much it.

So he’s not exactly comfortable admitting his plight to the man. What if he perceives it as weakness? So when he emerges from his bedroom to greet him, he is brief, almost curt, making himself speak through the pain.

“I’m sorry, but there’ll be no lesson today. Can you just watch Grogu for me? I’m... something else has come up.”

The Mandalorian looks... like an expressionless helmet on a suit of armor. But his voice betrays some surprise when he says, “Um, yeah. Sure. Not a problem.”

He’s justified in his surprise; Luke has never cancelled Grogu’s lessons before. “Thanks,” Luke says and repeats, “Sorry this is on such short notice.”

The last thing he sees before beating his retreat back to his room is Grogu cooing and reaching a little hand out towards him in concern, doubtlessly feeling in the Force that something is amiss with Luke. He closes the door but can still hear the Mandalorian reassuring the kid to the best of his ability, “Sorry, buddy, your bajuri seems to be busy. No floating stuff today.”

Grogu emits the sad coo again.

“Hey, it’s okay. Wanna go to the pond and look for frogs?”

...

“We can take the Phoenix over there.”

A happy squeak tells Luke that the plan has met approval.

“You like flying with the jetpack, huh? Yeah, me too.”

Their voices recede, Grogu babbling happily and his father talking back pretending to understand him, and then the temple is silent. It dawns on Luke that the Mandalorian is attractive, the juxtaposition between the gleaming armored fighter and the father so gentle with his kid intriguing. The thought is brutally cut short by another sharp flash of searing pain.

He whines and flings himself onto his bed, curling up and tugging at his hair with both hands, hoping beyond reason that the pain in his scalp will distract him from the pain in his everywhere else.

--

Luke has been trying on and off to meditate or at least nap for several hours, when he hears a knock at the door. It can only be Mando.

“Um. Master Jedi?”

The Mandalorian has never asked Luke’s name, maybe he reckons Luke goes by his self-assumed title, just like he seems perfectly comfortable going by Mando. Yes?, Luke wants to ask, but he’s scared it’ll come out an undignified whimper.

“I made some dinner for the kid,” the Mandalorian continues. Is it dinner already? “I thought maybe you’d want some, so I’ll leave it out here.”

Luke blinks at the door. He wasn’t expecting this.

“I don’t know if you’ll like it, it’s, ah. Aruetiise usually find our cooking too spicy. So I made some bread to go with it, it. Helps. With the spice. I used some stuff from your storage for it, hope that’s okay.”

The silence persists.

“Putting it down now. Okay. Good luck with your... Jedi business.”

There’s a sound of, indeed, something being placed on the floor, then footsteps walking away.

Luke opens the door. There is a tray of food waiting for him. An amazingly delicious smell wafts from it and his stomach growls loudly, reminding him that he hasn’t eaten today.

So this man can cook. This man baked bread for him. Luke tries to imagine him, in the kitchen, doing that. Maybe he put Luke’s apron on over the armor. The thought makes him giggle for the first time today. Truly Grogu’s father is full of surprises.

--

It’s already getting dark out when Luke carries his empty plate back to the temple’s little kitchen. He finds Mando there with Grogu on his lap, as always in complete armor, simply watching as Grogu plays with a small silver ball.

Luke clears his throat. “Hi,” he says eloquently and carries his plate to the sink.

The Mandalorian nods in greeting. “All done in there?”

“Not exactly.” Somehow, Luke can feel Mando refocus on him, even through the helmet. He knows he must look rumpled, his hair mussed, his face drawn, and using one of his robes as a shawl. He wishes he had the ability to suffer more attractively, or at least the energy to make himself up a bit.

He sighs and sits down at the table with them. Somehow he feels like, as fair payment for the meal, the Mandalorian deserves his honesty in return. “Full disclosure, I wasn’t doing... Jedi stuff in my room. I just... I’m unwell.”

“Oh.” For some reason, Mando’s head tilts towards Grogu. It becomes apparent why when he asks, “Anything catching?”

“No. No, Grogu will be fine.” Luke folds his hands on the tabletop. Well, he’s already at it being honest. “Do you ever get the feeling of... old scars, hurting again? Like they’re new?”

“Your hand?” the Mandalorian asks. Ah, of course, he’s perceptive, he’s noticed the fake hand.

“Not just the hand. Everywhere. All over.” Luke grits his teeth as his nerves alight again along the lightning patterns. Maker, he hates this. It’s like the shrivelled old prune continues to torture him from beyond the grave.

“All over?” Mando repeats. The helmet’s modulator dulls emotion, but Luke guesses it’s concern he hears.

“Yeah. Look.” Following a sudden impulse, he gets up and shucks his robe, unbuttons his shirt and slips that off too. “Here, see?” He turns himself this way and that, catching the warm lamplight. “And yes, they go all the way down.”

Helmet or no, he can hear the Mandalorian’s breath catch. His hand, the one that’s not keeping Grogu from tumbling off his lap, twitches... rises... reaches out... Luke keeps himself very still. For a breath or two, he thinks that if the Mandalorian were to touch him, trace the lightning bolts on his torso with his gloved hand, then he might feel better. Might be soothed.

The hand is lowered to the table again as if embarrassed. Luke lets out his breath and tries not to slump in disappointment. “I’ve never seen scarring like that before,” the Mandalorian says. “And I’ve seen my fair share.”

“Force lightning,” Luke explains, before remembering that his companion knows nothing about the Force. “A Sith torture technique.”

“You were tortured?” Mando asks, then amends, “You don’t have to tell me.”

Luke sits back down, hugging his knees to his chest. “Pffft. It’s not like I’m not already thinking about it.” He rubs his hands down his arms at another shiver of pain. “The Emperor did this. When I went to confront him on the second Death Star.”

“It was you on the Death Star?” the Mandalorian asks.

“Yeah. The Emperor wanted me to join the dark side. I refused. I had no idea he’d just start frying me with lightning. I had no idea this was something the Force could even do.”

“But then you... killed the Emperor?” The Mandalorian is clearly guessing, and Luke finds himself astonished that there’s someone out there still who doesn’t know the whole Luke Skywalker Saga.

“I did not,” he says. “My father killed the Emperor. All I did was lie on the ground and be tortured.” He picks at his wrist where the synthetic skin joins the organic. “I’m not even bitter about that. It ended up saving my father’s soul. But sometimes, I have nightmares about it, you know? And in those dreams, my father... doesn’t help me. He just stands and stares at me and that’s worse than the pain. Because, when it actually happened, there was... a moment when I thought he wouldn’t do anything. He wouldn’t care and he’d watch me die. For a moment there, I lost hope, and that’s the worst of it really, knowing that about myself.”

“Why was... your father on the Death Star?” the Mandalorian asks, and huh, apparently he hasn’t heard about the Luke-and-Vader-connection either.

“It’s a long story,” Luke says, because it is, and he’s tired. His scars still hurt, not in these sudden flashes anymore, but as a pulsing, bone-deep, constant ache. But his chest feels a bit lighter for having talked about it.

The Mandalorian now gestures at said chest, instead of asking for the story again. “Can you take painkillers for those?”

Luke shakes his head. “They don’t help much. The pain’s in here.” He taps his temple. “I’ve just been trying to sleep it off, but it hurts too much to get to sleep.”

Mando hisses out a breath, and Luke is by this point fairly certain he’s commiserating. “Phew. Sounds like you need a drink.”

This makes Luke laugh, and he appreciates that. “You know, I’d love a drink, actually.”

After Grogu is put to bed, Luke gets a glass of spotchka and Mando’s company (he tilts the helmet off just far enough to free his mouth in quick, almost furtive gestures and takes tiny sips). His head’s starting to feel pleasantly swimmy when he says, “You know, I’ve just bared all my troubles to you - well, not all, but some, and pretty hefty ones - and yet I know... three facts about you, maybe.”

“Hmm. Yeah, that doesn’t seem fair,” the Mandalorian says amusedly. “What would you like to know?”

“Your name would be a good start,” Luke suggests.

The way the Mandalorian fidgets with his glass, he looks almost flustered. “Ah... Din. Din Djarin.”

“Luke Skywalker.” Luke grins and reaches across the table, ignoring the pinpricks of pain up his arm, to grip Mando’s - Din’s - hand. “It’s nice to have met you, Din Djarin.”

-----

In the following months, these flare-ups return occasionally, but none in such intensity. Luke knows that it’s only a matter of time, though. He’s beginning to suspect that this might stay with him forever. But he’s not as horrified at the prospect as he once was, after talking about it to Din and being neither judged nor pitied. After Din didn’t look at him worried like Leia, or attempted clumsily to walk on eggshells around the topic like Han, and didn’t think less of Luke, and didn’t act like Luke’s admittance to his issues tarnished some sort of larger-than-life image of the glowing Jedi hero. How odd it is to think of a future that has someone in it he can rely on in such an uncomplicated manner. He hasn’t had anyone in his life to rely on - or dared to think of himself as needing this - since... well, since Aunt Beru, probably.

During these months, Grogu has steadily progressed in his studies. Din has visited the temple with some regularity, but Luke has yet to get used to him. How could he, when there’s so much new and exciting to discover about Din still? He finds himself looking forward to these visits, and missing Din when absent, almost as much as Grogu does. Din can only ever stay a few days at once, and Departure Day is a sad one for all two inhabitants of the makeshift Jedi school. (Luke’s not sure what Din does when he’s not here. It can’t be so important, right? Surely not more important than spending time with Grogu? Than talking to Luke?)

This time, though, when Din shows up at the agreed-upon time, it’s weird. He speaks even less than usual, he seems to retreat into his armor even more, he opts to sleep in his ship instead of one of the many empty bedrooms in the temple that Luke has yet to fill with more students. And he barely holds or even touches Grogu, and that tips Luke off. These other observations he could chalk up to paranoia and his own desire to coax Din out of his (figurative!) shell. But that last one tells him that something is off.

Grogu can feel it too, and confusion and worry is seeping off of him into the Force. Luke tries to calm him and get him to sleep, but in the morning, Grogu’s still a bit anxious, and their collective worry mounts when breakfast passes by and Din fails to emerge from his ship. The two of them are reflecting their worry back off each other, and it’s getting aggravating, so Luke gets up and resolves to investigate.

“Okay, Grogu, can you go in the garden and play with Artoo? I’ll go look what’s up with your dad.”

Grogu immediately calms now that he knows the matter is being taken care of, and it warms Luke’s heart to see how much the kid has grown to trust him.

He gains entrance to the ship - it’s not the same one that Grogu has shared memories of with him, but similar enough in layout. The cockpit is empty, so he descends down a narrow ladder into what probably passes for crew quarters here. Peering around a corner, he finds Din hunkered down with his back against the durasteel wall, his threadbare cape wrapped around him as a blanket. He hasn’t noticed Luke come in yet, and that’s wrong in and of itself, and he’s shivering so hard it makes his beskar rattle slightly. As Luke lays eyes on him, he breaks into a horrid wet cough beneath the helmet, the modulator rendering it rasping and metallic.

Okay, something must be done.

“Din?” Luke asks, peeking his head out into open view. “It’s Luke, I’m in here now. You sound like my dad, kriffing-- how long has it been like this?”

Din’s head whips around in Luke’s direction, and he probably only doesn’t flinch because he’s trained to not flinch at things. “I’m fine,” he claims - outrageously lying - and tries to drag himself to his feet, hands bracing against the wall behind him.

Luke is already rushing to his side. “No, no, just stay down. There, that’s right, just sit. Are you wounded? Sick?”

Din tilts his head back against the wall. “Not wounded.”

“Well, that’s... good.” Luke squats next to him, unsure how to proceed. In the Force, he can feel exhaustion and pain radiating off of Din, but that doesn’t tell him what exactly is wrong. He tries to touch his wrist and, of course, meets beskar.

“Din, I realize this might be a... big ask, but can you remove your helmet so I can check your temperature?”

A stuttering sigh comes out through the modulator. “I don’t...”

“I’ll close my eyes,” Luke hurries to add. “It’ll just be for a few seconds. Oh, oh I have a blindfold back at the temple! I can run back and get it.”

Din shakes his head. “It’s okay. You’ve seen it before.” He reaches a shaking hand up and with a hiss, the locks on the helmet disengage. He slides it up and off and Luke takes in his face. It’s flushed, his hair matted and sweaty, his eyes bleary, and yet. It’s as attractive as Luke remembers.

Shaking these thoughts off, because there certainly are more important things now, Luke reaches out and puts his ungloved hand on Din’s forehead.

“You’re burning up,” he hisses. “I’m taking you back to the temple, I have medicine there.”

He’s already in the process of wrapping an arm around Din’s torso to help him up when Din shakes his head. “No. Gotta stay here.” His speech is washed out, his eyes glassy, and Luke’s concerned he’s not talking sense.

“You’ll be more comfortable at the temple.”

Din tries to brush him off with alarmingly feeble hands. “No. The kid.”

Ah. “I don’t think Grogu can catch anything off of you. Different species and all that.”

“You don’t know.”

Well, strictly speaking, Luke doesn’t. Yoda never mentioned anything like that. For a moment, Luke looks around the room, but his old mentor’s ghost is unhelpfully absent. He settles for promising, “I’ll make sure he keeps his distance.”

Din shakes his head again. “Kid’s going to...” He’s interrupted by another coughing fit. “...try to heal me. Don’t want him to overdo it.”

Even miserably sick, Din’s first concern is for the child. It makes something warm swell in Luke’s chest, and he realizes with no small start that Oh, this might be something a lot more than attraction he’s dealing with.

It doesn’t matter now. “I’ll make sure Grogu doesn’t overtax himself then. I’m his teacher, it’s what I’m here for.” Not at home to any more protests, Luke uses the Force to help him lift Din up in his arms. “Try to have a little faith in me, okay?”

“I’m fine here on my own,” Din insists.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Luke says distractedly as he starts off towards the exit ramp, bridal-carrying a whole Mandalorian warrior.

Din is not cooperative, doing his damndest to make himself a dead weight. “I’m Mand’alor,” he mutters, eyes half-closed. “I don’t have to take that tone from you.”

Luke doesn’t know what that word means. Maybe it’s a special type of Mandalorian. He’ll ask later, if he remembers. “Right now, you’re sick, that’s all,” he says, taking them at a brisk pace back to the temple. “You need attention.”

Din’s answer is a displeased groan. “My own damn fault for taking off the helmet.”

In the moment, Luke wonders if he means that in a metaphysical sort of way, like he’s being punished by the ancient Mando gods for his heresy. He’ll later discover that it’s much more prosaic than that: Din has worn the helmet since he was a child, and it’s protected him amiably against any airborne diseases. Now that he’s decided to start taking if off occasionally amongst other people, his immune system is being thrown into a panic by all these new unfiltered things to be breathed in, and he has prompty caught some kind of space flu.

For now, he gets Din into bed, armor and all, and heads for the ‘fresher and the aid kit he stashed there.

--

Din is burning.

Din is glacier-cold.

He sleeps irregularly in this soft bed he doesn’t recognize, and wakes himself with fits of coughing. He gropes for lucidity and gives up on it again in intervals. At some point, someone took his helmet - no, he remembers taking it off, or was that a dream? He has a memory of being carried in somebody’s arms, but who would carry him in full beskar? Who would care to? He’s not on his ship and he’s not alone and this is wrong. He’s been sick before, even with the helmet: from infected wounds or bad food or bad water or being out in harsh weather too long during a job. He’s always ridden it out by himself, if he was too far off to stumble his way back to the covert. But this isn’t the covert - that’s long gone, isn’t it? - and someone is here.

The person, at some point, helps him sit up and removes his armor, and Din would panic - does - but the person’s hands on him are gentle, and there’s some voice telling him that “It’s just to make you more comfortable, I’m putting it right next to the bed, I’m not taking it away, see? It’s right here waiting for you” and he’s too exhausted to put up a fight, and why would they lie? If they wanted the beskar for themselves they would’ve killed him already. But the person doesn’t. The person gives him water when he’s coughed his throat raw. The person drapes a blanket over him, which he shucks off during the hot spells only to grope for it again during the cold ones. The person puts a hand on his forehead and it’s even more cool and soothing than the damp cloth they also provide.

At some point, the person puts something in the bed with him - some alive thing, some small and fussy thing, some important thing with small green claws and wide moon eyes and large ears that are the softest thing that Din’s ever touched. He reaches out for it on instinct, just to pet the downy white hairs on its little head, and the person’s voice says from somewhere far above, “Okay, Grogu, I promised your father to take this slow. We’ll do this gradually, so you don’t tire yourself. You understand? Small healing. Easy.”

The small and precious thing makes a displeased sound, and Din wants to soothe it again. The voice replies, “I know how you feel, I know you want to fix it all right now, but I promised, okay? Your father will be very disappointed in me if we don’t do this just like he’d have it. And we don’t want that, hm?”

Din hears a coo close to his ear, feels a tiny, three-clawed hand touching him, and then there’s a sudden warmth spreading in his chest, not like the clammy heat of the fever but different, pleasant. Suddenly it seems easier to lie back and get some real, truly restful sleep, and this he does.

This instance repeats several more times, over days, until there is a point at which Din wakes - still sore, shaky, and with his muscles aching from having trembled so much - but with the fever broken and his head clear enough to string a coherent thought together.

He’s vaguely aware of a warbling voice a short distance away that he can’t quite yet discern. The room is dim, with only a singular lamp by his bedside spreading a warm light. There is a window above the bed but no light is coming in. It must be late in the evening - Grogu’s bedtime, is what Din’s inner alarm clock tells him without fail. And indeed, when he raises his head, he spots a small crib across the room that can only be Grogu’s, and Luke is there, rocking it in gentle motions. It is him who’s doing the crooning - singing Grogu to sleep, Din realizes abruptly. As he focuses, the lullaby slowly starts to make some sense: it’s in Bocce, which Din is about as conversant in as Tusken. He’s actually heard the tune before; it’s a nonsensical little ditty that settlers on Tatooine sing to their children.

He stretches out an arm and points a shaky finger at Luke.

“Hick,” he accuses, his voice gritty like he gargled a mouthful of sand.

Luke spins around, his blue eyes widening. “If you’re trying to insinuate that only sand-encrusted, desert-dwelling hicks speak Bocce,” he says, “then you are correct.” He smiles. “It’s good to see you back with us.”

“You’re from Tatooine,” Din says, and wonders why this is so important to him. Maybe it’s because learning things about Luke is like putting a puzzle together. There’s somehow a whole bunch of people that Luke is - he’s fascinating, he’s vexing, he’s confusing, and Din has no idea why he’s this interested in the first place. Well, he does have some clue, but it’s best not dwelled upon. Luke has his Creed and his life, Din has his wholly different Creed and life, and it’s not like the interest can be mutual anyway.

Or can it? Luke seems to have been here for days, watching him heal. Din’s mind veers away from phrases like “nursing” and “caring for” because, well, it implies a needing and a being needed that’s not usually extant for him. He takes care of himself, mostly, that is how it’s been for years. Decades...

Luke nods. “Anchorhead represent. Go Womp Rats.”

Din wrinkles his nose. “Anchorhead? There’s nothing there.”

“You’re telling me! Come talk to me about it when you’ve lived there for nineteen years.” He crosses the room to come perch on the edge of Din’s bed. “Which you won’t, you’re the king of Mandalore.”

Oh, shit. Yeah. He’s probably missing a council meeting right now. Wait. “Who told you?”

“You talked a lot when you were feverish.” Luke passes a hand over Din’s brow. He’s done that before, but it’s very different now that Din is awake for it. “It seems to have broken.”

“You had the kid heal me,” Din surmises. He can’t waste breath right now on wondering what else he said to Luke, when the fever had him. “I told you not to do that.”

“I had him heal you slowly, step by step, so he wouldn’t exhaust himself. Just a little every day,” Luke explains.

“He okay now?”

“He’s-” Luke begins to answer, then stops himself. A truly mischievous smile spreads on his lips. “Prince Grogu is resting, your highness. But yes, your majesty, he’s perfectly fine and healthy.”

“Stop.” Din swats a hand at him. “Not... ‘majesty’. We don’t even do that. It’s just ‘Alor. Actually, it’s just Din.”

Luke dodges his hand and almost falls back onto the bed, laughing. “Oh, dear. Please, your worship, accept this humble Jedi’s apology--”

“I mean it, stop--” He probably sounds petulant. He can’t bring himself to care.

Luke’s smile gentles. So do his eyes, impossibly blue. Huh. He’s beautiful. “I’m just teasing you,” he says, beautifully. “I know this doesn’t change anything here. Just another facet of the man I’ve been getting to know.”

“Ah. So you’ve been.” Din clears his throat. That feels awful, as it is still very dry. “Getting to know me. Huh?”

Does this qualify as flirting? This is probably awful. Din’s not good at this. And anyway, it’s still unclear if Luke is actually--???

The softest pair of lips in the galaxy (the galaxy!!!) is on his forehead. Din’s chest implodes. He can feel Luke’s smile on his skin. He’s never felt anything like it before. How is this happening? He’s most likely still sick, and this is a fever dream.

“I’d like to get to know much more of you,” Luke says, withdrawing, still smiling, his eyes like sun-streaked oceans. Din has no breath in his chest.

He delays his reaction two seconds too long, and Luke’s expression begins to falter. “I’m... sorry, you’ve just recovered, and here I am putting... this on you.” He gestures broadly at himself in his entirety. “I... hold on, I’ll go get you, um, a glass of water or something...”

Din would like a glass of water. He would not like Luke to leave. The latter wins out. “Wait.” He grasps Luke’s wrist before he can get up. “I didn’t mean... I would, um. Like to get to know you also.”

Luke stills, his face a turmoil of emotion. How is this the same man who looked so utterly serene to the point of expressionlessness when they first met?

Din figures it’s way past time he made a move. Luke’s already gone and bared himself so much. It’s only fair that he meet him halfway, Din thinks and kisses him.

[didsomeonesaydaddydraco]

It’s just a bad day... » Tom Felton imagine

Request: yes! @lindsayfosselman93

Word count: 2,037

Pairing: Tom Felton x reader

Note: I just hope you guys will like this. xx

“Hey, Y/N” my coworker called after me, just as I was about to leave my office “A couple of us are heading out to grab a drink or two at Casey’s. Do you want to join us?”

I looked at my phone to check the time. It was a Friday afternoon, and our boss said we could leave an hour earlier than usual, knowing that we had a very though week behind us, and all of us deserved a little rest after all. 

“Yeah, sure” I smiled at her and grabbed my bag from my desk “But I’m driving, so no alcohol for me today”

“Alright” she linked her arm with mine and dragged me with her, talking about how hot her new intern was. I liked Beth. She was my mentor when I first started at the PR agency, and helped me with everything I needed. She was very open minded, and loved to ask me about England, and she really enjoyed listening to me, mostly because of my British accent. She found it fascinating “So, how’s your boo?”

I laughed at her nickname for my fiancé. They had met before, and a love-hate friendship was immediately formed between them. Beth hated that I skipped a lot of end of the week pub hopping with them to go home to Tom, but loved to hear everything about our travelling stories and the romantic things he had done just to make me happy. And Tom hated that Beth would show up at our home unannounced, and babbled about her terrible dating life, and how much she already wanted to be married. These occasions usually turned into a sleepover, because she had too much wine, and wasn’t able to drive back home. But at the same time he loved the idea of me having a good friend at work. And I knew, that deep inside, he would have helped her if she needed it. 

“He’s working on a new movie, so he is quite busy” I smiled at her and opened my car “He was up pretty late last night just to learn his lines” I frowned at the memory. He came to bed almost at the same time I had to wake up to get ready for work. He looked quite annoyed and even sad. I was thinking about him, hoping he was in a better mood and slept enough. I hated how much he pushed himself sometimes. He wanted his act to be perfect, to give his best to the project he was working on and satisfy not just his fans, but himself as well. He tended to be hard on himself. 

The pub was quite crowded when we arrived. We weren’t the only people in Los Angeles, who wanted to kick back a bit at the end of the week. Group of friends were playing billiard or were just chatting over a table with beers and wine glasses in their hands. Here and there were couples, maybe on a date. I smiled at a few familiar faces from either work, or at those who were frequent guests at Casey’s and sometimes joined us for a drinking game or just to chat. 

“So guess who’s being a baby and won’t drink today with us?” I rolled my eyes at Beth’s childish behaviour, but I couldn't hide my smile “Nah, just joking. Y/N’s only being a responsible adult here, and is actually driving”

We sat down to our usual table where some of our coworkers were already seated and were sipping on their first drink. I ordered myself a virgin Cosmopolitan and listened to one of our new intern’s story about how one of his professors was caught with his TA. I was sipping on my drink when my phone lit up in front of me. Because of the bad service in the pub, I didn’t get the notifications right away, so I didn’t see Tom’s messages.

“Baby? What time are you coming home?” 

“Are you alright? I thought you were coming home earlier..”

“Y/N???”

“Babe, I need you. I’m having a very bad day…”

I quickly texted him back that I was only out with a couple of friends from work but I was just leaving. I was worried. Tom wasn’t the double texting or multiple texting type of guy. He only acted like this, if it was important or he wasn’t feeling well. 

“Sorry guys, as much as I love to hang out with you, I really need to leave” I stood up and said my final goodbyes to them, not giving them a chance to ask me about my sudden leave-taking. Before I left to go home, I stopped by a grocery store to buy the ingredients for Tom’s favourite comfort food. 

I could see Willow’s cute face at the window when I pulled up to the driveway. She was jumping up and down when she saw me getting out of the car and walking up to the front door. I swear that dog was half a dog, half a kangaroo. 

“Love, I’m home” I called for Tom when I stepped in the hall and kicked off my high heels, which were killing my feet all day. I went to the kitchen and put down the grocery bags, before I kneeled down to pat Willow and give her a few kisses “Where’s Daddy? Can you show me?”

“Woof” she probably had no idea what I was asking her, but the fact that she hardly left Tom’s side came to my benefit, because she ran to Tom’s office. I followed her there, and of course he was there. He was laying on his sofa, the script for his new movie on his chest. The wrinkles of the pages told me he was close to tear the whole thing up and throw it away. He was asleep, but the frown from being frustrated was still on his face. 

“My love” I sat at the very edge of the sofa and pushed his hair out of his face softly “I’m home” I kissed his forehead and caressed his cheek carefully. I didn’t want to scare him.

“Hey” he murmured and pulled me on to his chest. His hands hold me close and Tom buried his face in my neck. I planted plenty of small kisses into his hair and hold him just as tight “I’m having the worst day of my life”

I laughed at him a bit. He could be a little bit overdramatic, when things weren’t going the way he planned. “Mind telling me why it is such a bad day?”

And he did. He told me that because of the lack of sleep he has been having caused him to wake up with a terrible headache this morning, and no matter how much he tried and practised, it seemed like he couldn’t memorise his lines. And when he finally gave up on learning those, he wanted to interact with his fans, but came across with a lot of hate, which led him to ask himself, if he really was good enough of an actor. 

I listened to him. Sinking in every single word that left his mouth, and played with his hair the whole time to keep him calm, and to show him I was now there for him, and was ready to do anything just to make him feel better. He was feeling very down, and it made me sad how his self-esteem shrunk down because of what some mean people and the media was writing about him, without knowing him at all. 

“Darling” I said softly “Did you really have a bad day or did you have 20 minutes where you let your thought run undisciplined which led you to a bad vibe that you let carry you away?”

“What do you mean?” He looked at me confused.

“I let you think about this” I kissed his neck softly, which made him laugh a tiny bit. I knew how ticklish his neck was, and loved and hated it at the same time, when I blow on it or kissed it. It was good to hear his laugh. It was so contagious. So to make him laugh again, I started to kiss it rapidly and blow on it, while I caressed the back of his neck with my fingertips to tickle him even more. 

“Stop, please” he laughed loudly and tried to push me away “C’mon darling, I’m going to pee myself at the age of 33 if you don’t stop” he begged me but never let go of me. I looked at him and kissed his lips with everything I had. I wanted this man to know how much I loved him. I wanted to show him that no matter what those people out there say about him. They didn’t know who Tom Andew Felton really was. They were cowards, using the power of social media. I pity them. How miserable their life must have been that the only thing that made them feel better or happy was hating on someone they didn’t even know personally?

“I’ll let you to think about what I just said” I stood up from him “Meanwhile you do your homework, I’ll make dinner. Come downstair when you are ready. Alright?”

“I love you” his voice was smooth. I adored how he said those words. They were pure, honest and filled with love and lust. I left him alone. I knew he needed it. He had to go through his whole day in a different point of view. He had to think if it was really worth it. Letting hate and a rough day ruin his good mood. Before I started on dinner, I changed into one of his tie dye hoodies and let my hair out of the ponytail. 

Tom came downstair just at the right time. I already sat the table, and was getting the food out of the oven when he came up behind me, and sneaked his arms around my waist, kissing the side of my neck lovingly. 

“You made casseroles” I could tell by his voice that he was smiling “It smells delicious” he sniffed into my hair “You smell delicious too” he playfully bit on my shoulder and squeezed my waist.

“Someone’s in a better mood” I sing sang and put the tray down on the table. 

“Yeah” he nodded and sat down “Thank you. I really need that to see the whole thing in a different view. Sometimes I tend to let my bad mood to take over my mind and I act unrealistically”

I placed my hand on his and gave him a reassuring smile. During dinner, he told me about how his day was, apart from the bad part. Tom told me how happy he was when Oliver Phelps texted him and asked if he wanted to be on their podcast the next week, and how they already made plans about a golf marathon as soon as it was possible for him to take off a few days from shooting. He even mentioned a few days trip to somewhere nice, just him, Willow and I, because we both had been very busy with our own jobs. He felt like we couldn’t spend enough quality time together, and we really needed it. I just looked at him, and adored the man sitting in front of me. At our dinner table, in our home. All these years together, and it still amazed me, that he chose me to be by his side for the rest of his life. He was honestly the most beautiful man I had ever met and I was more than ready to make him the happiest as possible. 

“I really can’t wait for you to put me in my place and treat me just like you did today for the rest of our lives” Tom hugged me from behind when we were getting ready to go to sleep. He played with my ring on my finger and smiled at me throughout the reflection of the mirror on my vanity table “Mrs. Y/N Felton. It still sound perfect to me.”

[maaneskin]

you, you, you. han jisung

note: she’s done,, she’s finally done when i tell you i’m crying but as always she’s not very good lol

is mc a stoner?? probably

description: as class president, jisung should probably care about the skateboard you have with you in class, but he doesn’t. why? because he’s very much in love with you

warnings: h jisung breaks an arm, hospital visits, skateboarding

wc: 6.5k new record omg

one.

as the class president, jisung should care about the skateboard you always had with you, and placed under your desk during class. but he didn’t. in fact, you could probably throw all the desks and chairs out of the windows, and he wouldn’t find any problem in it.

all his friends knew it, and boy, oh boy, did they make fun of him. out of everybody at the school, he had to be in love with you; a history and science genius, skater, who only hung out with your 5 friends. 

he couldn’t help it, though. the combination of your charming personality, brain, and skateboarding skills — all of it made him weak in the knees. (not to mention he found you insanely attractive, especially when you rode your board.) 

you were friends. kinda. not really. you knew him and he knew much about you. the two of you never talked outside of good morning’s and if you had a question about homework or an event, something jisung was relatively sad about.

jisung remembers the day he began crushing on you. he remembers it clearly. like it happened no longer than 10 minutes ago. he remembers seeing you skate slowly besides ryujin as she walked. one of your hands on her shoulder, letting her make you roll along, the other holding a cup from a local coffee shop. he remembers seeing you laugh as ryujin made big motions with her hands as she babbled on about something. seeing you in that moment made something inside him click and before he could register or stop it, he developed a crush. a crush that eventually turned into something deeper.

“god, you really just find the bare minimum attractive,” seungmin came up to the table his best friend was sat at, with a judging face.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” jisung moved his head from it’s resting spot on his hand and made eye contact with his friend.

“i’m talking about you being in love with a junkie,”

oh yeah, someone once started a rumor that you and your friends were junkies and did drugs behind the school. jisung never believed them and did his best to shot them down whenever he heard it, “(name) is not a junkie,” he huffed. 

seungmin rolled his eyes, “if you say so,” 

jisung shot his friend a look, but didn’t get to say anything before a certain cat like person eagerly sat down next to seungmin, “what are we talking about?” felix asked, beaming with his usual happiness.

“jisung being in love with a junkie,” seungmin answered, smiling at his friend.

“(name) is not a junkie,” jisung repeated, throwing his hands out to emphasize his words. his eyes drifted from his friends to you and your friends sitting in the back of the library, laughing. his eyes fell to under the table, where you usually kept your board when you had it with you. it wasn’t there, and it made him furrow his eyebrows.

“he’s doing it again. observing a junkie who’s in love with their skateboard,” seungmin spoke like he was a commentator on a nature documentary, making felix giggle and jisung roll his eyes with a smile.

“shut up, kim,”

“hmm,” seungmin pretended to think about jisung’s words, “you know, i don’t think i will,”

rolling his eyes, jisung couldn’t help but breath out a laugh, as felix giggled again, “you’re so stupid,”

“at least i’m not in love with someone i’ve never had a conversation with,” 

“low blow,” felix gasped dramatically, whereas jisung rolled his eyes and turned his attention to his homework.

after finally getting felix to concentrate on his work, silence fell over the three. but jisung still couldn't help himself; he kept stealing glances at you and your friends — though, mostly you. you just looked so beautiful with your head thrown back as you laughed at yuna and lia’s bickering. he let out a quiet sigh as he rested his head on his hand again, eyes directed to your figure.

seungmin noticed his friend’s staring, “the bare minimum,” he whispered, grinning when jisung reached over the table to hit him on the arm.

“shut up,”

“why don’t you just talk to them?” felix asked innocently, happy he could stop studying for the time being.

jisung leaned defeated back in the chair, his eyes drifting to you again, “they won’t like me,” 

seungmin and felix shared a look. seungmin sighed deeply. he and jisung were close; they told each other most things — that included crushes, and to say jisung talked about you would be an understatement; he always found a way to bring you up in a conversation. it frustrated seungmin to no end, if he was being honest.

“jisung,” the youngest of the three began, only continuing when he knew jisung’s attention was on him, “you’re a great guy. you’re funny, smart, not ugly, passionate, and so much more, and if (name) doesn't like you it’s their loss,” he spoke honestly.

jisung was at a loss for words and so was felix. seungmin. kim seungmin just said something sweet that wasn’t sarcastic.

seungmin’s face flushed red, looking down into his english textbook, “stop looking at me like that,”

jisung snapped out of his daze and reached over the table again, grabbing seungmin’s hand, “thank you, min, i needed that,” jisung mirrored the smile that broke out on seungmin’s face.

“why do you never say stuff like that to me?” felix suddenly whined, holding onto seungmin’s arm, pouting when the other two laughed.

two.

“hey class pres!” 

jisung stopped dead in his tracks. he knew that voice. your voice. he turned around to see you half jogging to catch up to him, “hi, (name),” he smiled awkwardly. much like seungmin said, he had never had a conversation with you, so he had no idea how to carry or present himself to you.

you smiled to him, smoothing out your white uniform shirt, “class pres,” 

praying you didn’t notice how he was following your movement, he gulped, “uh, so, what-what do you want?” 

“uhm, well,” you scratched your arm, “i need your help with…something,” 

“with what?” jisung was suspicious.

“uh, well, mr. choi took my skateboard and i need it back,” 

“and you need me for that?” 

“you have keys to the teachers offices?” 

jisung squinted his eyes at you, “yes?” he said carefully, although it sounded more like a question. his eyes widened when it hit him what you alluded, “i can't do that!” 

“please, class pres, it’s only gonna take five minutes max,”

covered in disbelief, jisung looked at you gaping, “i could lose my status!” his eyes were wide, “i've worked hard to become class president and a member of the student council!” 

there was a strict policy about how no students were allowed in the teacher's lounge without a teacher, and jisung was not about to break it.

widening your eyes and clapping your hands together, you made eye contact with the boy in front of you, “please, i’ll pay you back, i promise,” 

jisung gulped; your pleading made him feel a lot of things. he stared into your eyes, getting lost in them, “i’ll help,” he muttered before he could stop himself, “but if we get caught, you’re taking the blame,” his heart melted when you nodded enthusiastically — you were so cute.

motioning for you to follow him, jisung tried not to show his red cheeks. he probably shouldn’t have been so nervous about simply walking with you, but this was the closest he had ever been to you. he tried not to notice how your hands occasionally brushed against each other, to no avail; everytime it happened, everytime your fingers brushed against his, he felt like his hand was on fire. in a good way.

definitely in a good way.

as you approached the door to the teachers lounge, jisung felt more and more tense — he didn’t even want to think about the amount of trouble he could get in. he would get months worth of detention, his friends were all gonna leave him after he got kicked from the council, his reputation was gonna go down the drain, he was gonna lose everything, they were gonna kick him out of the school-

“aren’t you gonna unlock it?” you asked, standing a behind your class president 

jisung blinked blankly at the door, “sorry,” he mumbled, hands fumbling with the keyring he had been trusted with when he became apart of the student council, “i’m just nervous,”

“i can tell,” 

jisung could tell you were smiling.

“i can do it if you don’t want to,” you offered, licking your lips; they were really dry.

“no, no, i can do it,” jisung finally unlocked the door, softly opening, sticking his head in to see if anybody was there, “it’s empty. be quick,” 

nodding, you went past him and into the empty room, eyes darting around the room, searching for one of your most prized possessions, “there,” you whispered, eyes landing on the colorful skateboard. it was on the top of a tall shelf — you needed a chair to reach it, and the only chairs in the room were spinning chairs. 

jisung, on the other hand, was starting to shake. this was too much for his nervous heart to handle. his eyes became comically large at the sound of footsteps nearing the corner. only teachers came down here, so the chances it was just another student was slim. 

telling you someone was coming would only alert the teacher someone was there and that would only result in something that would make jisung feel bad. in the midst of his panic, he peeked into the room to see you trying to balance on a chair, that only added onto his panic. 

he quickly shut the door and tried to look normal, as the person rounded the corner. it was a teacher, the english teacher to be exact. she was known for being overly strict and just straight up mean.

“hi mrs. lee, how are you?” he chuckled nervously.

she eyed him suspiciously, “han jisung, what are you doing down here? you know you’re not supposed to be here,” 

you were leaning against the door, skateboard in hand and a new scratch on your knee, “c’mon, class pres, say something,” you pleaded in a whisper.

as if jisung heard you, he came back to his sense, “well, mrs. lee, i’m looking for ms. han, but it seems like she’s not here,” jisung tried his best to look genuine, and apparently it worked, for mrs. lee hummed and nodded, before walking over to the war wore, grabbing her jacket. shooting the student one last doubtful look, she left around the same corner she came from. 

jisung tiptoed after her, making sure she walked away. when there was no sight of her, he let out a deep sigh of relief. 

but his relief didn’t last long, before the realization that he just lied to a teacher kicked in, “oh my god,” 

walking out of the teachers lounge with a grin on your face, you went over to the boy looked like he had just seen a ghost.

“you good, dude?”

jisung was bewildered as he looked at you, “i just lied to a teacher,” 

“yeah, and it was a solid one,”

“i just..lied to a teacher,”

you rolled your eyes but smiled, putting your skateboard on the ground, making sure it was stil before putting both your hands on jisung’s shoulders, “it’s okay,” you shook him gently, “you did great — no harm done,”

jisung finally looked at you; though he felt terrible he broke the rules, the smile on your face was enough to lessen the guilt. the perfume you were wearing was intoxicating to him.

“thank you for the help, class pres. you’re pretty cool,” you removed your hands from his shoulder to pick up your skateboard, with a small smirk on your face, “we should hang out sometime. i’ll see you around,” 

astonished, jisung stood still, not saying anything. at least not before you were almost around the corner, “you can just call me jisung, you know,” he called after you.

barely turning around, you said loud enough so he could hear you, “i prefer class pres,” with that you rounded the corner and left jisung alone.

putting a hand over his heart, jisung was breathing heavy, “what the fuck,” he mumbled, before fishing his phone out of his pocket to text seungmin about where he was so he could tell him about what the fuck just happened.

“by the lake behind the school” seungmin responded within two minutes, and jisung was on his way.

“kim seungmin, kim seungmin, kim seungmin, kim seungmin,” jisung repeated to himself, as he approached the younger, who was doing homework at a table, “kim seungmin, kim seungmin, kim seungmin, kim seungmin,”

“shut up, would you,”

ignoring seungmin’s words, jisung threw himself onto his friend, resulting in seungmin making a line across his notes, “jisung!” 

“guess what?” jisung ignored seungmin’s words once again in favor for himself.

“what?” seungmin glared at the other, not that he noticed.

jisung’s eyes were wide and his hands were moving around animatedly as he told seungmin what happened in great detail. when he was done, seungmin’s eyes were as wide as jisung’s

“you what?”

jisung sat up straight, “i know,”

“you what?!”

“i know!” 

“so- wait, you helped (name) get their skateboard back by sneaking into the teachers lounge and then you lied to mrs lee and then (name) said you were cool and that you should hang out,”

jisung thought it over, “yeah, that’s about it,”

“dude!” seungmin was amazed, but he didn’t know wether it was the good kind or the bad kind, “that’s great! — i mean, not the part where you broke into the teachers lounge and lied to mrs. lee — but you talked to (name)!”

“they’re so,” jisung let out a dreamy sigh — seungmin faked a gag.

“you’re so in love, it’s disgusting,”

“you’re so mean, i’m not,” jisung huffed, looking out over the open field, made of grass and asphalt. students were scattered around doing their own thing, including you and your friends, who were laughing and talking, while walking — you skating — across the asphalt to get to the street.

you noticed jisung and waved, to which he turned bright red and waved back.

“gross,” seungmin commented with an eye roll.

“shut up, kim,” 

three.

walking with his hands in his pockets, jisung kicked a few rocks out of his way. the hood of his hoodie was up so his slightly greasy and messy hair wouldn’t been seen; he hadn’t bothered taking a shower before leaving, only giving himself a quick wash in the sink. the black sweatpants he was wearing hadn’t been washed in an embarrassing amount of time and the white t-shirt he was wearing underneath the hoodie was picked up from the floor he hadn’t vacuumed in way too long. but it didn’t matter to him; it wasn’t like he was going somewhere special, just to the movie theater to watch a movie by himself, so he didn’t bother making something out of himself today. 

but he regretted it deeply when he saw a familiar white sweatshirt and colored skateboard. what were you doing here?! and why today when he looked like literal trash?! “what the fuck! fuck no, fuck no, fuck no,” jisung was cursing himself, while trying to hide himself by pulling his hood further down his face. he prayed to whatever gods were up there, you wouldn’t see him, and if you did, he hoped you wouldn’t recognize him. unfortunately his prayers went unheard, as you saw him just before he took the first step into the theater.

“class pres?” 

he visibly cringed, turning around, “hi (name),” he singsonged awkwardly.

you quickly caught up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder, “class pres,” you grinned, and jisung took notice of how happy you looked, he also took notice of how you held your skateboard. he especially noticed your hands — the veins adorning your them and how long your fingers were (okay, maybe he had a hand kink, like hyunjin once said). 

“what movie are you watching?”

jisung’s eyes snapped to yours, his cheeks reddening. he cleared his throat, “uh oh, just- just one of the reruns,” he hoped he didn’t sound as awkward as he felt.

you hummed, “wanna watch one together?”

if jisung’s face wasn’t red before, it was now. his eyes widened, “uh- s-sure,” 

you smiled and walked into the theater, one hand gripping jisung’s wrist, the other holding your board.

jisung thought he was going to explode at the skin contact. this was the first time you ever touched him. it was the first time he was close enough to touch you actually. he knew you were a touchy person, having seen you doing a lot of skinship with your friends and simple acquaintances. 

he was brought out of his thoughts when he heard you speak to the teenager behind the counter, and was about to protest you paying for both your tickets when you turned to him, handing him his, “i could pay my own ticket, you know,” he mumbled, but you heard him clearly.

“think of this as a thank you for breaking the rules with me,” you smiled, before dragging him with you to the snacks and soda, where jisung paid. you tried to stop him, but quickly found out jisung could be stubborn when he wanted to.

“you didn’t have to pay everything,” 

jisung was almost sure you were pouting, but you were walking behind him so he couldn’t see, “but you paid for my ticket,” he smiled, sitting down on one of the chairs, you next to him.

he was right — you were pouting, and god, you were adorable. he cooed internally and had to refrain himself from pinching your cheek. he settled for a small grin before leaning back into his seat.

the movie wasn’t as good as jisung remembered; the animation was terrible and the voices were weird, and it seemed you thought the same thing, because the second you stepped outside the theater both of you burst into laughter. 

“that was awful,” 

“right!” you grinned, dropping your skateboard on the ground, putting a foot on it, “i don’t remember it being that bad,” 

jisung smiled brightly to you, feeling like he might explode if you looked any better.

“do you wanna hang out?” you licked your lips as you asked. 

jisung froze slightly, your words flowing around his head. you asked him if he wanted to hang out. you asked him. you were so much cooler than he could ever be, why did you want to hang out with him?

“uh, we don’t have to,” you said after not getting an answer, “i'll just see you monday, class pres,”

jisung, you idiot, say something! “wait! no, i- yeah, we can hang out. sorry, i zoned out,” jisung was sure if you smiled any brighter he would go blind.

“great! where do you wanna go?”

you ended up getting streetfood — sharing a small serving of tteokbokki by the mall close to the theater, “i could’ve paid,” jisung pouted when you placed the tteokbokki between the two of you on the bench, sticking his tongue out at you when you did it to him. 

you handed him a pair of wooden chopsticks, grinning, “you should’ve been faster then,” 

after throwing you a non-threatening glare, the two of you ate and talked. the conversation was natural and not awkward at all (despite jisung stumbling over his words constantly).

jisung’s heart was beating fast. the entire situation was surreal for him. he had been crushing on you for ages, and now, here he was, eating street food with you after watching a movie. wasn’t that basically a date? jisung wasn’t sure, but it sure did seem like it. his heart sped up as he looked at you.  you looked so contect, sitting there with him, eating — slightly — overpriced tteokbokki.

the sun was framing you beautifully, highlighting your face. his eyes directed to your lips, just as you stuck your tongue out to lick them, removing some sauce.though he tried to look away, he couldn't help it. he wanted to lean in and kiss you, press his lips against yours in a soft manner. subconsciously, he licked his lips as he stared at yours.

“jisung?” you waved your hand in front of his face, with a cheeky smile, “is anyone there?” 

“huh? yeah- yeah! me- i’m here,” he stumbled over his words. his face heated up. why was he like this?! he hid his face in his hands when you giggled, face heating up.

“you’re adorable,” 

jisung’s face to even hotter at your words, and he let out a whine, “shut up. you’re making me all,” he made a strangled noise, making you laugh — jisung could physically feel himself fall more in love with you at the sound. your laugh was lovely.

you were lovely.

his breath hitched when you cooed at his cuteness; this was too much for his fragile heart to handle, “stop it,” he whined. his whining didn’t do anything other than make you tease him even more.

when you had leaned back again after getting done teasing him, you ate the last few pieces of tteokbokki, while jisung checked his phone, “it’s getting late,” 

using your sleeve to remove some sauce, you asked, “what time is it?” 

“almost eight,” 

“shit,” you muttered, getting up from the bench, “i have to get home. i’ll see you tomorrow, class pres,” 

“why do you always call me class pres? you can just call me by my name...please,” 

you smiled softly, rolling your eyes, “okay, han jisung. i’ll see you tomorrow,” 

jisung watched you skate away with a pounding heart; you called him han! he let out a dreamy sigh, leaning back on the bench, hands over his face. he was happy, oh so happy — you had hung out! he, han jisung, hung out with you, his crush since forever! and if he had been reading the signs correctly, you liked being out with him. pride filled his chest; he had made you laugh a lot, and the sound was music to his ears.

“jisung!” 

a deep familiar voice ripped jisung from his thoughts, “felix?”

felix sat down right next to jisung (almost on him, but jisung didn’t say anything), “what are you doing here? i thought you said you were going to the movies,” 

jisung smiled at how cute his friend was — felix’s doe eyes on full display for him, “i did,”

“then why are you here?”

“i met (name),” jisung in took a sharp breath, as a bright smile grew on the youngers face, “we saw a movie together and went here afterwards,” 

“that’s great, sung!” 

“felix!” hyunjin called out when he finally saw his friend, “don’t run from me,” he huffed, sitting down beside to felix, “hey sung,” 

jisung smiled at the taller, “hi,”

“jisung was with (name)!” felix told hyunjin excitedly, eyes sparkling.

“(name)? (name) (full name) (name)?” 

jisung’s face got hot for the nth time that day, “yes,” 

“dude! that’s great!” 

“yeah,” jisung muttered, warmth filling his chest. it was great, really great.

four. 

from (name) <3: come outside

from (name) <3: n wear long pants

from (name) <3: or don't,,  that's up to you but we're gonna skate so u probably should

jisung rubbed his eyes with the ball his hands, before reading the texts again — you wanted to hang out with him again? after the fiasco that was your last time spending time together?

you had went home with a shirt drenched in coke because jisung dropped the bottle and then opened it right after, already forgotten he dropped it. he cringed at the memory.

panic was filled him. what should he do?! a light bulb went off over his head — kim seungmin. jisung’s fingers quickly tapped through his phone and found seungmin’s number, calling him. he bit his lower lip as he waiting impatiently for seungmin to pick up.

“what do you want?”seungmin sounded nothing less of annoyed as he answered his phone, rubbing his eyes to get rid of the sleep.

“(name) wants to hang out!”

“okay? and? what’s the problem?” 

“what’s the pr- dude! i can’t!” 

“then don’t,” seungmin was tired.

“no, i want to,”

“then do it,” 

jisung groaned, “you’re not much help, you know,” 

“don’t care, break a leg,” seungmin hung up the phone right after, leaving jisung moping. jisung moves the phone from his ear and looked at it in shock. 

from (name) <3: hurry!!!!!!

shaking seungmin’s hang up off him, jisung hurriedly threw on clothes — hopefully they were clean — and ran to the bathroom to make himself look presentable. water ended up all over the counter when jisung wet his face, “sorry mom,” he muttered, cringing at all the water, before making a run for it to the front door, shouting a quick “bye” to anyone in the house.

the bright midday summer sun made everything bright, making jisung temporarily blind. when he could see again, he saw you resting on the sidewalk across from his home, rolling your skateboard with your shoe covered feet, eyes closed whilst you enjoyed the warmth of the sun. to jisung, the sight was ethereal — you were practically glowing.

“(name),” he called out when the sound of a bird tore him away from his thoughts.

“han! you came,” you smiled, standing up and did the few meters of skating to get to him.

“of course i came, you told me to,” he blushed, taking a step back at the closeness.

“oh?” you raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile finding its way onto your face, “you like being told what to do?” 

is jisung was red before, he was sure was now; his face looking something like a brand new fire hydrant, “i-i don-don’t- what? no- no! i-“ 

“i’m kidding, han,” you grinned, watching him stammer — he was so cute, “let’s go,” 

“uh, where are we going?” 

grabbing his hand, you pulled him with you, your skateboard in hand, i’m gonna teach you how to skate,” 

“what?- no, my- my balance is terrible,” 

“i know; i’ve seen you trip over nothing multiple times,” 

“you have?” jisung’s heart skipped a beat — you noticed him.

“of course i have, you’re quite popular, you know,” 

“am i?” this was news to jisung. 

“what do you mean “am i”!?” you stopped abruptly, making jisung bump into you, “you don’t know?” 

“know what?” you were staring at him in awe, and jisung flustered to no end.

“you’re one of the most popular guys in our grade,” 

a strangled noise came from the back of jisung’s throat in surprise and confusion. the sound made you laugh — oh, that heavenly sound jisung had become addicted to i just a few weeks.

“we’re here!” 

jisung scanned the area; it was mostly empty, except from a few kids playing on the smaller ramps. this was good, it would save jisung from the embarrassment he was about to experience.

“it’s not that difficult,” you laughed, smile widening when jisung’s grip on your hands tightened, so he wouldn’t fall off, “relax your knees. you’re shaking,”

“stop making fun of me,” jisung said loudly, pouting while trying to balance on your skateboard. you were right, he was shaking. the muscles in his legs were 

“i’m not!”

“you are!” he whined. this was a lot harder than you made it look like, and the fact that you were holding hands didn’t help in the slightest. jisung yelped loudly when the board disappeared from under him, landing flat on his butt. 

“oh,” you gasped chuckling, walking over to help him up, “i told you to relax your knees,” 

jisung grumbled, taking your hand and pulled himself up from the ground, “shut up, it hurt,” he rubbed the spot with a groan.

“sorry,” you said, still giggling, are you okay?”

while nodding, jisung couldn’t help but smile; you were so cute. he got onto the board when you asked if he wanted to try again, this time with relaxed knees. it went better, though he still didn’t dare to stand on his own, too afraid he would fall again. 

after a few tries, he let go of your hands and stood on his own, arms out to each side, “i’m doing it!” he cheered, as your skateboard rolled on the concrete.

you laughed at his enthusiasm, “you are!” 

jisung’s smile grew wider, while he slowly lowered his arms. he quickly found out that was a mistake, for before he knew it, the board disappeared under him and he landed on the ground, this time on his arm — he’s pretty sure he heard a crack.

the door opened, making you stand up. jisung walked out first, his mom following him closely. his arm was in a white cast; you winced. that was your fault, partly.

jisung’s mom ruffled his hair, said something to him, and gave you a smile when she walked out the front door to the hospital. he gave you a tight smile, while you approached him.

“you okay?” 

“i mean,” he held up his casted arm with a small smile, “but yeah, i’m okay, it’s just my arm,”

“i’m sorry,” you apologized.

jisung furrowed his eyebrows, “for what?” 

“i shouldn’t have let go of you,” 

jisung could see how bad you felt — it made him sad, “i let go of you first, and besides,” he lifted his arm again, “i think it looks pretty cool,” a warm feeling spread in his chest when you smiled relieved. 

“it does,” your eyes danced over his casted arm, “can i write something on it?” 

“sure! wanna get out of here first, though?” 

you nodded and left the building, jisung holding his casted arm. 

a noise left you in distress when jisung tried to take a look at what you were writing, “don’t look!” you gripped the ink pencil harder.

jisung whined, “i wanna know what you’re writing,” 

“and you will, when i’m done,” you huffed.

jisung sighed loudly and over dramatically, “fine,” 

silence filled the air at the brick bridge you were sitting on, legs dangling over the water. a gentle breeze brushing up under yours and jisung’s clothes, giving both of you goosebumps. jisung’s eyes followed the running water as it ran under the bridge, while you were bend over, writing on jisung’s arm.

you leaned back up, “done!” 

“i swear if you drew a dick-“

“i didn't,” you laughed, making him do the same. before his eyes could reach his cast, you covered it with your hand, “don’t read it yet,” 

“why not?” jisung blinked.

“i don’t want to be here when you do,” 

“why not?” 

you raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging on your lips, “do you always repeat yourself?” 

“not always,” 

chuckling, you swung your legs over the bridge and jumped down, landing firmly on the pavement, “i’ll see you later, jisung,” you got onto your skateboard and rolled away in a slow speed, saluting to jisung when he call out a “get home safe” after you.

jisung did as you said and didn’t look until you were out of his sight. his own fingers were covering it, preventing him from getting an accidental peek at what you wrote. after you were out of his line of sight, he waited another five minutes, before removing his fingers. 

“i like you a whole lot — we should date” with a heart beside it.

jisung’s breath hitched as his heart began pounding. he read the words you wrote over and over again, engraving them in his mind. 

“i like you a whole lot — we should date” 

“i like you a whole lot — we should date” 

“i like you a whole lot — we should date” 

he whispered the words to himself, tasting them. you liked him a whole lot and said you should date. the fear that this was a dream hit him, and he pinched the skin on his bicep with his uninjured hand, “ow,” 

that hurt; this was not a dream. this was real life. holy shit. you wanted to date him! what the fuck?! you wanted to date him? jisung was a mess, a flustered mess as he sat alone on the brick bridge in the edge of town, legs hanging still over the water, a swarm of butterflies in his stomach.

five. 

“just ask,” 

“i can’t just ask,”

“yes, you can,” seungmin rolled his eyes and flicked jisung on the forehead, making said boy rub the spot and pout, “what’d you do that for?”

“you’re thinking too much,”

“am not,” the older mumbled, still rubbing the spot, soothing his pain.

“jisung, just ask,” 

“what do i even say?! “hey, (name), i like you a lot, can i be your boyfriend?””

“yes,” seungmin said with a deadpan expression.

jisung blinked, “i can’t say that!” he whined, “that’s stupid,” 

“you’re stupid,” 

jisung’s gaze fell down to his casted arm. (“dude, when i said break a leg this isn’t what i meant,” seungmin had stressed after finding out about jisung’s broken arm.)

it had been three weeks since he broke it arm and had gotten it casted. it had also been three weeks since you told — wrote — jisung you liked him. it had been three weeks since jisung had talked to you. he didn’t mean to ignore you! actually, he had been wanting to talk to you during the time, but he had no idea what he would say, so he ended up not speaking with you at all. you probably thought he didn’t like you back and ignored you because he hated you or something. the thought of you being sad made him feel terrible, especially since it would be his fault.

jisung took in a sharp breath and walked into the classroom, seungmin behind him, rolling his eyes at how nervous jisung was. jisung had literally nothing to be nervous about — you had already confessed; jisung knew you liked him, why on earth was he still nervous? it made no sense in seungmin’s mind. if jisung just got it together and asked you out his problem would be solved.

seungmin dumped his backpack down onto the floor, as he sat in his seat. from where he was sat he had a clear view of both you and jisung, both of you looked sad, you more than him. seungmin shook his head; this was stupid, so utterly stupid. 

class went by, but jisung weren’t paying attention in the slightest, his mind was filled with you — you and your sparkling eyes and pretty smile. he had sighed more than he could count during the lesson, attracting attention from almost everybody in the room, you included. when the bell rang, jisung didn’t move until seungmin came up behind him and nudged him on the shoulder.

“do it now,” seungmin vaguely pointed his head in your direction.

jisung bit his lip, “now?” he mumbled, looking at you while you were packing up your things. he sighed for the nth time when seungmin nodded sternly. he walked with slow steps, shoes never leaving the ground fully. when he stood in front of you he ran a hand through his hair, “(name), can i talk to you?”

yeji glared at him before you could do anything. you were sure she was going to throw hands if you didn’t stop her. putting a hand on her arm, you pulled her back, scolding her lightly, before turning to the male in front of you, “i guess,”

jisung licked his lips, feeling himself shrink under yeji’s glare, “alone, please,”

nodding, you nudged yeji on the arm, saying you’ll meet her in the cafeteria. she hesitated, but left with seungmin and the rest of the class. when all were gone, you spoke, “so...what do you wanna talk about?”

“i-” he in took a deep breath, “i’m sorry for ignoring you...especially after what you wrote,” subconsciously he put his hand over his cast, “i didn’t mean to, i just..i panicked,”

your face fell, a lump forming in your throat, “it’s fine if you don’t like me back, i would just prefer you didn’t ignore me,”

“i do like you,” the words fell from his lips before he could stop them. his face flushed red as what he said registered in his mind, “i do like you,” he repeated in a smaller voice, “that’s why i panicked. it’s- i’ve liked you for so long, and then you confess that you like me, and it was just a lot to take in,”

a smile  grew on your face as he talked — rambled. he was so cute.

“and i’m sorry for ignoring you, really i am, and if you don’t mind i would like you take you on a date,” jisung looked at you for the first time since he started talking, and to say he was surprised by the smile you had on your pretty face, would be an understatement.

you stepped closer to him, not missing the way his breath hitched, “i would love to go on a date with you, han jisung,”you grinned, cupping his face, before connecting your lips, just as jisung’s mind went blank.

your lips felt like heaven, this was heaven, jisung concluded as his lips were pressed against yours, like he had imagined many times, only this was a million times better. jisung was sure he could spend forever and longer kissing you. warmth filled him as his lips moved with yours. when you pulled away jisung was in a daze, mind fill only with you, you, you.

you brushed some hair out of his face, leaving a last peak on his lips, “i’ll see you later, angel,” you smiled to him, slowly letting your fingers drift from his, before walking to your friends with a hot face.

jisung stood frozen in the same spot long after you left, only moving when seungmin and felix came into the room. 

“did you do it?” felix asked eagerly, almost jumping in place.

jisung didn’t — couldn’t — respond, still caught up in the feeling of your lips on his.

seungmin snorted, “i think he did, and more,”

“they kissed me,” jisung muttered, his heart warming, “we kissed. i kissed (name),”

“nice done, sung,” seungmin complimented, smiling warmly as a grin broke out on jisung’s face.

jisung’s face flushed once again when he remembered what you called him, “they called me angel,” 

as the class president, jisung should care about the skateboard you always had with you, and placed under your desk during class. but he didn’t. in fact, you could probably throw all the desks and chairs out of the windows, and he wouldn’t find any problem in it, especially not now, not when he’s your boyfriend and you call him angel.

[artificialqueens]

Feast For Two (Icesis x Pythia) - Strawberry

Summary: Icesis finally asks out the cute girl in her art class after months of pining.

A/N: I can't find the post on Tumblr to link, but @holywaterzzz is the mastermind behind Icethia McDonalds date, so credit to xem for the idea :D I also tried my best to make this kind of fit so it can be my submission for the Holiday challenge! (I misread the rules and only used two words, which are feast and gift!)

Asking the cute girl from her art class, “Do you want to hang out over winter break?” was the bravest thing Icesis had ever done in her fifteen years of being alive, she thought.

She wasn’t one to get nervous easily, but being sat at the same table as a vibrant and bubbly redhead named Pythia brought out the nervousness in Icesis. She was talented, creative and just pleasant to be around; more pleasant than hearing Kendall and Gia gossip about the other girls in their geography class.

Their first project in class was to draw a portrait of someone at the tables they were all seated at. Kendall and Gia quickly declared themselves partners, why wouldn’t they when they had spent the entirety of their middle school years attached at the hip? That left Icesis to be paired up with this girl she had never seen before, and she found herself stuttering and messing up her sentences while introducing herself to her partner.

It got better as the months passed, but Icesis could never act ‘normal’ in front of Pythia. Kendall and Gia obviously caught on, teasing her about it (luckily) whenever the ginger wasn’t around.

“Have you asked her out yet?” Gia asked one day when the other girl wasn’t there, making Icesis nearly fall out of her chair.

“Ask who out?”

“Don’t play dumb, Icesis. We have less than a week left of this class, who knows if you’ll see Pythia again.” Kendall spoke up, “you should ask her to hang out over winter break!”

Icesis rolled her eyes, like she really needed advice from someone like Kendall and Gia, who had yet to confess their own feelings for each other. She could barely speak around the girl no matter how hard she tried and how focused she was on not fucking up, and she would probably die of embarrassment if Pythia declined her offer.

“I’ll think about it.” She concluded, and thought about it, she did. They did have a point, Pythia had mentioned signing up for a bizarre elective for the next semester that Icesis wouldn’t dream about taking, meaning that she would be the one who got away if the stubborn girl didn’t make a move.

-

Icesis gave herself a pep talk on her way to art class the next day, trying to hype herself up so she wouldn’t chicken out the second she looked into Pythia’s beautiful eyes.

“Hey! What did I miss yesterday? I’ve been sick,” Pythia greeted Icesis as she sat down at their table.

“Nothing much, we just colored and watched a movie. I think our teacher ran out of things for us to do, if I’m being honest.”

“I’m not complaining, I love coloring.” She giggled while Icesis tried to think of something to say to segue to asking Pythia to hang out on their two week break, but nothing was coming to mind.

Fuck, why was asking out a girl so difficult?

“Are you excited for winter break? I can’t wait to just lay around with my cats for days on end,” She started babbling. Pythia loved to talk, which was not something Icesis minded one bit. Listening to her voice was quickly moving up on the list of the top ten of her favorite things.

But holy fuck, here was her chance.

“Yeah, I am. I was actually going to ask you about that. Do you maybe want to hang out with me over winter break? We can go to McDonalds.” Icesis was fifteen and broke, while she thought Pythia deserved a feast, fast food for two was the most she would be able to afford.

Pythia’s dark eyes widened at this, face heating up as well, “I would love to! I actually bought you a gift for you over the weekend, I could give it to you then too?”

Icesis swore that she was floating. Pythia said yes and had gotten her a gift? She swiftly pinched her arm under the table, but she was wide awake.

Flash forward to winter break, Icesis was standing outside of the McDonald’s closest to Pythia’s house, waiting for the ginger to arrive. It was quite cold, considering the harsh winds and the decision she made to wear a lighter jacket simply because it looked cooler than her winter coat.

She finally spotted Pythia crossing the street, feeling giddy as the girl she had been enamored with since the beginning of her freshman year came closer and closer. Icesis really was brave for asking her out, despite the fact they had yet to discuss if this was a friend hangout or an actual date.

“God, it’s cold. I would’ve told my parents not to move here if I knew this.”

“Hey, don’t say that. If you didn’t move here over the summer I would’ve had a lame partner in art class.” Icesis laughed, opening the door for her crush and following them inside.

“I guess I did luck out, getting paired up with the prettiest girl in the room.” Pythia smirked, catching the girl with black hair completely off guard,

“W-well, are you su-sure you weren’t the prettiest person in that room? Like, I know Gia is convinced that it’s them, but I actually think it’s you?” She managed to get out, watching Pythia’s face, hoping for a good reaction.

Pythia blushed, reaching up to lightly punch Icesis in the shoulder. “What? I’m right.”

Pythia chuckled, “Yeah, whatever you say. I’m starving.”

They ordered, Pythia ordering a quarter pounder with no pickles, and Icesis getting twenty piece chicken nuggets. There was no way she could eat them all, being nervous about hanging out with Pythia, but she was thinking they could share them.

The two slid in the booth Pythia wanted to sit in, both smiling nervously. They made small talk as they waited for their order to be done, both of them not sure what to talk about.

When their order number was called out across the restaurant, Icesis offered to go get it, telling the worker thank you before heading back, trying to think of cool things to talk about with Pythia.

They dug in right away, Pythia making a sour face as they bit into their burger.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, watching Pythia take her burger apart.

“They added pickles.” She whined, disappointed about the workers getting her order wrong on accident.

Icesis stood up, “I’ll go talk to them.”

“No, it’s fine, I can just take them off.” She protested to ears that were not listening to her.

“Lalalala, can’t hear you!” She teased, going back to the counter and explaining the situation to the worker. They apologized and Icesis came back to their booth with a brand new quarter pounder that did not have any pickles on it.

“You’re really sweet for doing that, you know.” Pythia said after biting into her burger, “I’m always too scared to do that.”

“I want you to get what you want. It would be a really sucky date if you didn’t get it fixed,” Icesis shrugged.

“Who cares about the fucking burger? I’m here with you.” She pointed out, stealing a nugget from the box, “I’m over the moon just because I’m spending time with you.”

Having actual confirmation that Pythia felt similar to her made Icesis’s heart melt. “I’m so happy you feel that way. I’ve been crushing on you since the first day.” She shyly admitted.

“Me too!”

“No way.”

They continued eating their ‘feast’, switching from talking about school to flirting with each other. Pythia finished off the last nugget, digging a small bag out of her purse and placing it on the table. “I almost forgot about your present.”

“I didn’t get you anything, though. I feel bad!” She insisted, not knowing to expect from this.

Pythia scoffed, “Did you not pay for our lunch? Open it!”

“Okaaaay.” She dragged out, opening up the bag to reveal a blue crystal necklace. It was absolutely stunning, not something Icesis would usually wear, but for Pythia she would make sure the necklace was in her rotation. “It’s beautiful, thank you so much!”

“It’s kyanite! It just reminds me of you, since you wear a lot of blue. I just had to pick it up when I saw it at the crystal shop. I didn’t know if it was too forward, though.” “I don’t think so. Would you have given me this if I didn’t ask you out?”

Pythia blushed again. Icesis thought she looked adorable with rosy cheeks, “I would’ve gotten to it eventually!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!” She was starting to get flustered now, making Icesis want to reach over the booth and just kiss her already.

So that’s exactly what she did.

[fruitcoops]

Do you think you could do a ~spicy~ fic that is either the aftermath of the skirts thing with Sirius getting more comfortable wearing skirts now that he has one and Remus /really/ liking it or something about Sirius trying on lingerie bc I feel like that also fits

Yes, I can! The first part of the fic is here for anyone who would like to read it! Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove

TW for smut, mild praise kink, definite skirt kink

The instant the front door closed behind them, Sirius shoved the bag toward Remus. “Please put it on,” he said at the same time Remus pressed black fabric into his hand. They both started laughing, until Remus cupped his jaw and pulled him down for a deep kiss.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he sighed as he pulled away, taking his skirt out of the bag and heading for the hallway bathroom.

Sirius ducked into the office—he smiled as the soft material brushed against his legs again and tugged it gently into the proper position, zipping it up with extra care to avoid any catches or rips.

There was a soft knock at the door. “Baby? Are you done?”

“Mhm.”

Remus leaned on the doorframe with a slight smile, his eyes scanning Sirius. The red plaid brought out every warm tone in his skin. “Gorgeous.”

“It’s not bad.”

“You like it.”

“I do.” He hesitated and looked back to Remus. “Is that weird? It feels weird. I’m not going to wear it in public or anything, but—”

“It’s not weird.” Remus stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Sirius’ waist. “It’s just clothes. The whole point of this is to show people that guys can wear skirts, too.”

He nudged Remus’ nose with his own, leaning in for a brief kiss as his hand slid down to skim the waistband. “When you walked out in this…”

“I’ve never seen you so shocked,” Remus grinned, pressing closer to him. “Thought you might drag me into the dressing room then and there.”

“It was close.”

There was more heat behind their next kiss and he felt something pull at the hem of his own skirt. “I almost wish you had.”

Sirius’ breath rushed out of his lungs and he traced Remus’ cheekbone with one hand as he slid the other up his thigh. “With everyone there?”

“They would’ve left.”

“Merde,” Sirius muttered as he walked him backward to the couch; Remus let out a small oof when he sat down and Sirius settled between his thighs, attaching himself to his neck. There wasn’t as much space as the living room sofa, but Sirius was willing to let his feet hang over the end if he could bask in Remus’ smug smile for even a second longer. “Does here work?”

“It’s even better.” Remus raked his eyes down Sirius’ body. “Because this time, you’re wearing yours, too.”

“You apologized—” Sirius nipped the hinge of his jaw, making him gasp. “—to a mirror.”

“Shirt off. Off, off, off.” He was only too happy to oblige and began shoving Remus’ up as soon as his own hit the floor. “God, Sirius, if you could have seen yourself—it was a miracle I didn’t get on my knees the second you stepped out.”

“I take it you like it, then?”

Remus groaned low in his throat and slid his thigh along Sirius’ side; a hint of bare skin flashed as the skirt rode up, drawing a small whine from his throat. He made his way down Remus’ bare chest, leaving a trail of light marks that would fade before practice the next day.

Well, probably.

Sirius paused at the waistband to tug at the fabric just below Remus’ navel, looking up at him from under his lashes. Remus swore softly and let his head fall back as Sirius ran his hands up his thighs, squeezing the backs lightly before moving down again. “Anyone who says they have legs for days has never met you,” he murmured as he sat up and began kissing a line from Remus’ mid-calf.

“Oh,” Remus hissed as he bit down gently on the soft part of his knee. A shudder rippled through him; Sirius could see him straining beneath his black boxers, which accented the skirt beautifully.

“I’m being honest,” he continued. “Not only are you absolutely beautiful—” He emphasized each syllable of the last two words with a harder kiss. “—but you have the longest legs I’ve ever seen. It drives me fucking crazy.”

“You—you—hnn.” Remus’ muscles twitched as he reached the hem of the skirt and straightened his legs out again, smoothing the fabric down. “You look pretty fucking incredible yourself.”

“Who would’ve thought?” Sirius rolled some of the smooth skin between his teeth and Remus’ breath hitched. “I might keep it, since you seem to like it so much. I won’t wear it out in public, but maybe around the house…on special occasions…maybe surprise you from time to time.”

“Keep that up and I’ll come in my underwear like I’m sixteen again,” Remus panted, his back arching when Sirius finally got his hands under the skirt and gripped his hips. “I would’ve worn a skirt ages ago if I knew this would happen.”

Sirius had to pause for a moment to let that mental image run its course. “And I would not have survived.”

He saw the edges of a grin appear. “No, you would not.” The grin vanished when Sirius hiked the skirt up around his waist and closed his lips over the outline of Remus’ dick. His wavering inhale and the instant grab for Sirius’ shoulders made him smile as he mouthed near the head.

“Better?”

“No,” Remus groaned, shivering when Sirius moved lower. “Yes. I don’t fucking know, just keep going.”

“Careful, mon coeur,” Sirius murmured as he pulled away just enough to suck a hickey onto Remus’ inner thigh. “You don’t want to ruin your pretty skirt, do you?”

“Only if I get to make you ruin yours.”

“You like it? You think it’s pretty?”

“You know I do.”

He pushed one leg of Remus’ boxers up an inch and bit down lightly. “Tell me.”

“Oh god.” Remus jolted again, his hands flexing on Sirius’ shoulders. “Fuck, fuck it’s—you look incredible in it. It’s so goddamn short I thought I was going to lose my mind. And it’s soft, so soft, oh my god Sirius please.”

Sirius grinned and continued his work. “More.”

Remus whined; he was practically throbbing against Sirius’ tongue, even through a layer of fabric. “I know I said it earlier but your ass looks fucking perfect in a skirt and I wanted to touch it so badly but we were in public.”

“I thought you didn’t mind that?”

“You would.”

“How do you know?” Sirius licked a long stripe up his length. “Keep going, You’re doing so well.”

“You looked so happy in it, too. So excited, it was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. And—and the way you looked at me, I felt like the only person on the planet. You looked at me like I was the fucking sun, Sirius, it was so much.” He was babbling now, the ends of his words blending together as his breaths grew desperate. “I’ve never wanted to wear a skirt before but the look on your face knocked me flat.”

Sirius tongued the slit as salty precome darkened Remus’ underwear. “Good job, sweetheart.”

Remus came shaking and moaning, one hand bracing against the armrest by his head and the other with a bruising grip on Sirius’ shoulder. He quickly rucked his own skirt up around his hips, reaching down to stroke himself until he followed suit after half a dozen pulls; when the blurriness faded away, Remus was propped up on his elbows, disheveled and still catching his breath.

“I think we both need to change our underwear,” Sirius said after a moment.

Remus blinked, then burst out laughing. “Uh, yeah, I think so. Did you—?”

“Yep.”

“Damn it.”

Sirius frowned. “What?”

“I wanted to appreciate you.” Remus pouted slightly and wrapped his arms around Sirius’ chest, hauling him up so they were face to face. “You really do look killer in that skirt. People are going to be so jealous.”

“This might be strange, but I’m not nervous about wearing it for the video.” He rested his head on Remus’ collarbone and hummed as warm fingers began running through his hair.

“That’s not strange. I’m glad you’re comfortable.”

“Are you?”

Remus was quiet for a second. “Yeah, I think so. It feels kind of funny to wear something feminine, but not in a bad way. Just different.”

“Different? Us? Never.” Remus’ chest buzzed beneath his head as he laughed and Sirius smiled, placing a kiss to the nearest rib. He was still sticky and a bit sweaty, not to mention the wetness around his mouth, but there was no place he would rather be. He knew exactly where he was going to keep this particular article of clothing.

[harrygroves]

a simple favor -- chapter four

to chapter three

Billy’s been doing a damn fine job of avoiding all thoughts concerning Steve Harrington. It’s been a blissful, quiet week.

And now that week is up and hell is about to begin.

They’re in Billy’s Camaro, Steve insisted they take his car, and he’s been driving for almost three hours. Steve is fussing with the radio and fidgeting as they get closer and closer to his parents' summer home.

“Dude, you really need to chill out. You want some Xanax?” Billy offers.

“What? No, I don't want any -- why do you have Xanax?” Steve wrinkles his nose, arms crossed.

“I think you of all people would agree that life requires a little anesthesia every now and then.” Billy gives him a knowing look.

Steve looks like he wants to say something snotty so Billy turns up the radio as a way to deter him. Instead, Steve moodily stares out the window.

Billy lets him for a little while before reaching over and taking Steve’s hand, threading their fingers together. When Steve tenses up, Billy gives it a squeeze.

“It’s gonna be okay babe.” Billy says soothingly but his snarky grin gives him away.

“God, I hate you so much.” Steve grumbles, but he doesn’t try to pull his hand away.

*

The summer house is actually a mansion. There’s a sprawling lawn in front of it, with trimmed hedges and a goddamn fountain. Billy wants to make so many jokes about silver spoons but he holds back because Steve looks like he’s having a panic attack.

“Hey, hey!” Billy says once they’re parked, reaching over and shaking Steve’s shoulder.

Steve looks back at him, like he forgot Billy was there. He’s pale and wide-eyed.

“Oh fuck.” Steve whispers. “Oh my god, oh my god, this is such a stupid idea. What the fuck am I doing, they’re going to see right through this -- ”

Look, Billy doesn’t want to kiss Steve.

Well, actually, that’s bullshit. He does want to kiss Steve but he doesn’t want to want to kiss Steve. It’s very distracting and he’s just in this for the money. The ten grand.

He’s been telling himself this for a week, like a daily affirmation.

However, Steve is freaking out, which is usually good for a laugh or two but Billy needs him to get his shit together so he takes Steve’s face in his hands and kisses him.

Steve is still trying to talk but the words get lost between them while Billy hums against his mouth, trying to be soothing and soft in hopes that it brings Steve out of his head. It works for a few seconds before Steve reaches up and puts one of his hands over Billy’s, which would almost be tender if Steve wasn’t trying to pull them off his face.

Billy lets him go and leans back. Steve is flushed and looks sad.

“Don't just...do that.” He mumbles.

Billy shrugs. “Kind of have to.” He grunts back, getting annoyed that Steve refuses to wrap his head around the thing he planned.

“Yeah, well…” Steve trails off. “Let’s go.”

They get out of the car and Billy grabs his bag from the backseat.

A girl their age with reddish-brown hair is running to them from the front door.

“Steve!” She yells and launches herself at him, wrapping him in a hug.

She babbles and laughs and smiles like Steve’s a goddamn prince.

“Should I be jealous?” Billy calls out to the pair.

Steve and Red Head look over at him.

“Oh, sorry, lost my head for a second. This is my sister, Robin.”

Sister, right. Steve had an older sister. Billy forgot about her, if he was being honest.

“Is this him?” Robin mumbles, but Billy can hear her just fine.

“Yes, uh. This is my...boyfriend, Billy Hargrove.” Steve says, smiling at Billy.

It’s too wide and his eyes are too bright. It’s the most human Billy has seen Steve look in weeks. It’s freaking him out.

Robin marches towards him and stretches out a hand. “It’s so nice to meet you, Billy. Steve has told me absolutely nothing about you.” She says it with a bright smiles and zero hostility.

Billy shakes her hand and tries to give her a pleasant smile in return. “Yeah, Steve just wants me all to himself, ya know how he is.”

He doesn’t, he’s totally winging it but Robin laughs and Steve clears his throat.

“You guys must be tired and hungry, I’ll let you get settled. Mom and Dad will be on your asses enough at dinner, so why don't you guys go hide out for a while. I’ll keep them occupied once they’re back from the court.”

“Thanks Robin.” Steve says and gives her another hug. “See you later.”

Robin leaves them and Billy leans towards Steve.

“The court?” He asks.

“Tennis.” Steve replies.

*

Steve leads Billy through the house, past floor-to-ceiling windows and paintings that have to be original prints. A few people pass them, all wearing uniforms. Steve says hello to everyone pleasantly and Billy gives them tight smiles. They have fucking housekeepers. Servants. It’s so...rich. There’s a grand piano at the base of a giant staircase and Steve leads him up to the second floor, down halls littered with vases of flowers and tapestries.

“This is insane.” Billy hisses.

Steve shrugs. “It’s home.” He says it hollowly, like it is very much not a home.

They end up in a bedroom the size of Billy’s apartment. It’s got bookshelves built into the walls, armchairs in front of a fireplace, a walk-in closet where Billy drops his bag of clothes, it’s own bathroom and a giant LED television mounted on the wall.

There’s silver-framed pictures on the fireplace and nightstands beside the bed. Family photos, solo shots of Steve as a kid, in bowties with a bowl cut. Billy examines them all.

“Robin’s nice.” Billy says casually.

Steve’s sitting on his bed, which is huge, by the way and absently scrolling through his facebook feed.

“She’s great.” He agrees flatly.

Billy wonders if she is great.

“Facebook.” Steve mumbles.

“What?” Billy asks, looking at Steve.

“We...fuck, we don't have anything on facebook, about us.” Steve says, almost in horror.

Billy shrugs, walks over to join him. “So what? Not everything needs to be online. We can just say we’re one of those couples who don't showboat our love on the internet.”

Steve winces at Billy’s words and nervously chews on his lip. Billy grabs Steve’s phone.

“Hey!” Steve shouts at him, reaching for it.

“Knock it off, c’mon, Steve -- stop it.” Billy says, smacking his hand away. “This is going to work. But only if you calm down. Right now the only thing in our way is you. You’re getting too caught up in the details. Just chill out, hold my fucking hand, and give me a gross pet name and we’ll get through this.”

He says all this, direct eye-contact, no blinking. Steve is quiet for a second before taking a deep, belly-full breath and closing his eyes, making an O with his mouth and exhaling slowly. Once he opens his eyes, Billy gives him a nod. Steve nods back.

*

Meeting the parents at dinner is a stifling affair. Steve’s mom isn’t going out of her way in the slightest to hide how much she does not like Billy. She turns up her nose at his clothes, eyes his hair like Steve’s isn’t an unkempt mess and politely insults him wherever she can fit in a jab.

“Oh, beer. How perfectly simple. A simple man is good.”

“I like that car, Billy. Very rustic.”

“There’s something to be said about plain fabric. Some can be too cumbersome to care for, it’s nice for some things to be easy.”

Billy grins, toothy and fire-eyed, sneaking glances at Steve who is very interested in his salad.

Steve’s dad isn’t much better. He keeps going back and forth between glaring at Billy and scrunching his face together, like he’s scrutinizing.

“And where did you say you’re going to go to school?”

“How exactly did you meet my son?”

“What do your parents do for a living?”

Robin keeps trying to steer the conversation away from them but the parents aren’t having that.

“How long have you two been dating?” Mrs. Harrington asks during the fish course.

“Six months.” Steve says.

“Two years.” Billy says, at the exact same time.

There’s an awkward pause and Billy can practically hear Steve’s heart rate triple. Billy laughs and takes Steve’s hand, giving it a squeeze.

“He was courting me for a lot longer than we’ve actually been together. All those fond memories, right, bunny?” Billy looks at Steve fondly.

Robin starts choking on something and has to thump at her chest to clear it up. “Bunny?” She croaks out.

Steve is bright red and staring at Billy with glassy eyes, probably seething but that just makes it more fun.

“Yes.” Steve blurts out, voice a bit high. “We, uh, I...really wanted...to be his boyfriend.”

Billy barrels onward. “He did that thing, with the boombox, stood outside my place till I let him in. It was so sweet.”

Robin is silent-laughing, and her eyes are starting to water. “I’m dying.” She says. “No seriously, I am fucking losing it over here.”

“They don't need all the details, sweetie.” Steve says in a syrupy voice.

“But the letter, I have to tell them about the letter.”

“No, no, I don't think so. That letter was just for you.” Steve says nervously.

“I would like to frame the letter.” Robin pipes in, struggling to drink water as her shoulders quake from laughter.

“So anyways,” Billy continues. “I finally just said, hey, let’s toss the guy a bone here,”

Robin is howling at this point.

“And he did, and we’ve been in love ever since.” Steve supplies quickly. “Now where is that next course, I am starving.”

He makes dagger-eyes at Billy who just takes his hand again and kisses Steve’s knuckles.

Once dessert and coffee have been consumed Steve gets to his feet.

“Well, we’re exhausted. Right, Billy?” He chirps.

“Sweetie, c’mon, how often am I going to get this kinda face-time with your parents? Shouldn’t we stay?”

He is hamming it up and Mrs. Harrington purses her mouth like the very thought is making her nauseous.

“Now, now. We’ll see them tomorrow morning.” Steve smiles back. “Let’s go to bed.”

Mr. Harrington coughs heartily into his napkin.

They bolt and hole-up in Steve’s room.

After changing into pajamas -- Steve changes in the closet -- they sit on the bed watching television and Billy waits for the inevitable.

“You’re a fucking asshole.” Steve finally snaps during their second episode of Golden Girls.

“I never gave you any indication otherwise.” Billy shrugs.

“That was so embarrassing, making it seem like I pined for you.”

“Well we had to say something, Harrington, and you were doing that Bambi-in-the-headlights thing, so I just rolled with it.”

“You rolled with it alright, I can’t believe you said all that shit.”

Billy snaps. “Fine, Steve, then you come up with stuff. Stop acting like a kid who doesn't want to get in trouble otherwise we’re going to get caught. Be a fucking man.”

That shuts Steve up for a long time. When Golden Girls ends and The Nanny starts up, Steve gets up from the bed and goes into the closet.

He’s only gone for a few moments before emerging with beer, little bottles of alcohol, and a bag of individually-wrapped chocolates.

“What the -- ”

“There’s a mini-fridge in there.” Steve mumbles.

He gives Billy a beer, deposits the bottles in between them and starts unwrapping a chocolate.

Finally, Steve says, “I’m really sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” Billy replies, cracking open a beer.

“I’m not very good at this.”

“You’re really not.”

“...I’ll try harder.”

“Good.” Billy replies, eyes never leaving the television.

There’s this weird tension between them and it lasts for a little bit until Billy is so uncomfortable he has to say something.

“Dinner was...something.”

“Told you.” Steve grunts.

“Man, I don't know which one hated me more.”

“Mom, for sure. She loathes people who don't own at least three boats.”

“Damn, and I just have the one.” Billy deadpans.

Steve grins, actually grins, before he catches himself and pops another chocolate.

“This is like a fucking hotel.” Billy says, grabbing for a bottle.

“I learned very quickly growing up that the less time I have to spend outside this room, the better.” Steve says.

“I want to make so many ‘princess locked in an ivy tower’ jokes right now.” Billy says seriously.

“Shut up.” Steve snaps. “And it’s ivory, dumbass.”

Billy chuckles and drains one of the mini-bottles. “So, we’re essentially trapped in here, is that what you’re saying?”

Steve shrugs. “I mean, we can go do whatever you want. There’s a couple libraries, an indoor pool, I actually convinced them to make a bowling alley in the basement.”

“You have a fucking bowling alley?” Billy asks in disbelief.

“Yeah, it was a birthday gift when I was, like, twelve.”

“Jesus christ, Steve.”

“Yeah, but we run the risk of dealing with them,” Steve’s parents, “So, ya know, wage your bets.”

Billy whistles. “Wow, you really don't like them.”

“No, I really do not.” Steve mumbles, eating another chocolate.

“So I gotta ask. Why me?” Billy opens another mini-bottle of vodka.

Steve looks away from the television, eyes Billy, then resumes watching. “You already asked that.” He points out.

“Yeah, but like, you could’ve found someone on Craigslist, like a lot of lonely losers do.”

“Wow, when you put it like that?” Steve rolls his eyes. “Like I said, it was a matter of convenience.”

Billy puts a hand over his heart and pretends to swoon. “I love it when men say that to me.”

Steve throws a handful of chocolate wrappers at him.

Billy grins. “Okay, so really though, what are we going to do tomorrow?”

Steve contemplates this for a moment.

“Ever been horse-back riding?”

part five

[thearvariblues]

The Power of a Bard’s Love

Geralt opens the door and sneaks into their shared room in an inn, expecting Jaskier to be fast asleep. It’s the middle of the night, after all. To be honest, he desperately wants Jaskier to be fast asleep. He doesn’t have the energy to explain… certain things to him.

Which, of course, means that the second he closes the door, he hears the rustle of a blanket and sees Jaskier sit up in the darkness.

“Oh, thank fuck,” the bard mutters. “I was getting really afraid. Where the hell have you been so long? You said it was an easy contract!”

“I thought it would be,” Geralt sighs, letting his sword fall from his shoulder. “Wasn’t.”

“Damn. What happened?” Jaskier asks as Geralt starts undressing. “Are you injured?”

“No. Just…” Geralt bites his lower lip.

“Just what?” Jaskier says and Geralt can almost hear him frown. “Geralt. Talk.”

“Cursed,” Geralt murmurs.

“Excuse me? You know, some of us don’t have supernaturally good hearing, could you say it a little louder?”

“I’m cursed, damn you!” Geralt growls.

“Oh. I mean… Wait, what? How? What’s happening to you? How do we break it?”

“We don’t. It’s…” Geralt sits down on the bed and closes his eyes. His limbs feel heavy, so heavy that he doesn’t even know if he’ll ever be able to stand back up.

He feels Jaskier’s hand on the small of his back and relaxes into the touch.

“Talk to me, Geralt, please.”

“I have one year to find and kiss my one true love,” Geralt chuckles.

“Your… What? What if you don’t?”

“Jaskier.”

“Geralt.”

The bard starts to remove his armor and Geralt sighs, glad that he doesn’t have to do it himself. He never thought he’d trust another person enough to let them undress him, and yet, here he is, melting into his friend’s familiar touch.

“I die,” he whispers after a while. “If I don’t find my true love, I die.”

“Mhm,” Jaskier hums. “You have any idea where she is?”

“She?” Geralt blinks.

“Yennefer, of course. Let’s face it, there is no way she isn’t your only one. She’s probably not gonna forgive you as easily as I did, I mean, after the whole mountain incident, but I suppose you could convince her to give you a single kiss, at least. A kiss can’t hurt, right?”

“You’re babbling, Jaskier.”

“Am I? I’m so sorry, but you just told me you’re about to die if we don’t find your angry ex as soon as possible–”

“In a year. We have time. Calm down. Please. You’re making me nervous.”

“I’m just trying to–”

“I know. But we can come up with a plan tomorrow. I don’t want to think about it today. I want to sleep.”

“Right,” Jaskier nodded. “But don’t you think you can run away from this like you run away from everything. You can’t.”

“Yes, Jaskier. I know.”

*

It takes them precisely two weeks and five days to find Yennefer. It’s actually Jaskier who finds her, and Geralt doesn’t have any idea how he did it. Even if the Witcher tried, he couldn’t find her so fast.

But here they were, standing at her doorstep in a town so small Geralt didn’t even bother to remember its name.

Jaskier takes the lead before Geralt can open his mouth, explains the whole situation to the momentarily stunned mage and basically ushers the two of them together into the bedroom before either of them manages to say a single word of protest.

“Hm,” Geralt hums as the key turns in the keyhole from the outside.

“Was this your idea? Or his?” Yennefer asks with a slight incline of her head towards the door.

“I know you’re not my true love,” Geralt shrugs.

“Why not stop him then?”

“I’d rather try stopping an avalanche,” he smirks and sits on the bed. “Besides, can’t hurt to try.”

“And you think that after everything you’ve done, I’m just gonna let you fuck me?” she asks, lifting an eyebrow.

“Jaskier thinks that all I need to do is apologize. Honestly, I think it’s bullshit, but…”

“Well,” she says and crosses her arms. “It can’t hurt to try.”

*

“It’s not that I don’t love you,” Geralt murmurs sleepily as they lay naked on the bed together. “I do. It’s just…”

“True love requires free will,” Yennefer nods. “And I think we’ll be much better off as friends who occasionally like to fuck.”

“Could you check? Just in case.”

She reaches out, touches his temple and shuts her eyes briefly.

“Cursed. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. To be honest, it’s nice to have a notice this long. Much better than to die in some monster’s claws during a hunt gone wrong.”

“You’re not planning on trying to find… the one?”

“No,” Geralt sighs. “Don’t tell Jaskier, though. I’ll tell him that it worked. That I’m saved.”

“Only to drop dead in a year’s time? You know I don’t particularly like the bard, but he doesn’t deserve this.”

“He won’t be with me when I… He won’t be with me.”

“It’s not fair, Geralt.”

“Yeah. Life isn’t exactly fair, Yen. I thought you knew.”

*

It seems to Geralt that time flies much faster now that he knows he only has limited amount of it. The curse thing happened in spring, and before Geralt knows, it’s nearly winter and he’s on his way to Kaer Morhen. He was tempted to invite Jaskier to spend the winter with him, but the bard would immediately know something was wrong – and that’s the last thing Geralt wants.

He arrives last, greets his brothers…

He’s not planning on telling them the truth, but things rarely go according to his plans. And so he blurts it out one evening and Lambert nearly chokes on his cheap vodka.

“You’re gonna what?!” he wheezes.

Geralt shrugs.

“What are you doing here, then?” Eskel frowns. “You should be searching for that… true love.”

“Searching?” Lambert snorts. “The fucker doesn’t need to search, he just needs to grow some balls and fuck his true love into oblivion!”

“It’s not Yennefer,” Geralt murmurs. “I’ve tried that.”

“No shit. We both know it’s that bard of yours.”

“It’s not,” Geralt says, taking the bottle of vodka from Lambert’s hand. “He doesn’t love me back. He never will.”

“Has he told you that?” Eskel asks.

“Didn’t need to. Witchers don’t get to love. And if we do, we are never loved back. It’s just how things are.”

“That’s utter bullshit, dear Geralt,” Lambert chuckles. “Aiden and I–”

“Who?” Geralt blinks. “Who the fuck is Aiden?”

“Oh,” Lambert mutters, stealing the bottle back. “Shit.”

*

“And of course it lifted the curse. Of fucking course!” Jaskier mumbles drunkenly, resting his chin on his hand.

The dark-haired woman sitting opposite him nods solemnly and orders more drinks.

“Weird,” she murmurs. “I could have sworn you were his true love.”

“Bollocks. Pure bollocks,” Jaskier sighs. “He’s mine, but I’m not his.”

“That’s not how this works, though.”

“And what do you know about true love, Valdo?”

“Enough to know… Thank you, dear,” she smiles at the barmaid and winks. Jaskier groans.

“Could you not flirt with every woman you meet?!”

“Better than you flirting with every person you meet, human or not.”

“True love, Valdo. Speak.”

“The thing is,” Valdo says, tilting her head, “that true love is recep… reco… Fuck. He must always love you back. Ergo, if the curse was lifted by him sleeping with the mage, he is not your true love. And if he is, then you are his, and then the curse wasn’t lifted.”

“Hmm,” Jaskier hums.

“Hmm? My dear, are you turning into that Witcher of yours?” Valdo laughs.

“No,” Jaskier sighs, downing his drink. “Ugh. Just thinking where the hell am I going to find another true love.”

“Oh, dear,” Val says and shakes her head. “Well, I know where I am going to find my true love for tonight. If you’ll excuse me…”

“Sure, sure!” Jaskier shouts when Valdo rises to her feet, not even waiting for his answer. “Please leave me. I love drinking alone! Oh, shit, what did I do to deserve such horrible friends…”

*

The winter without Jaskier seemed to drag on forever. Geralt missed his bard – missed him more than he would ever had thought.

That’s why, when the spring comes, he finds himself on his way to their usual meeting spot, even though during winter he promised himself time and time again that he wouldn’t, that he would just take some other route and never see his bard again.

He will, inevitably, die in a few weeks, he tells himself even as he passes the first houses of a tiny town where Jaskier is undoubtedly already waiting. He should just turn Roach around and leave. Spare Jaskier’s feelings. The bard will hate him for not coming, of course. But perhaps… Perhaps it won’t hurt as much when he hears about Geralt’s death, then.

And Geralt, of course, won’t have to explain to him why he lied about being cured.

The dilemma is solved within a few seconds when Geralt sees the bard himself running towards him at high speed, his lute case and his bag swinging on his shoulder, his hair ruffled and his doublet and chemise undone.

He beams when he sees Geralt, comes to a stop by his side and thrusts the bag and the lute case into the Witcher’s hand.

“Oh, Geralt, thank the gods,” he mutters, already scrambling up behind the Witcher. “We need to leave. Right now. Don’t ask any questions.”

Just then, Geralt sees several armed men heading towards them, shouting.

“Let me guess,” he chuckles. “The mayor’s daughter?”

“And his son,” Jaskier says, takes his bags back and wraps his arms around Geralt’s torso. “Nice to see you, by the way.”

“Hm,” Geralt smiles as he turns Roach around. “Nice to see you too, bard.”

*

It takes Geralt a few days, but in the end, he does tell Jaskier the truth. He does it because he finds the alternative – quietly sneaking away to die while the bard’s asleep – unbearable.

Jaskier… Doesn’t take it well. There is a lot of yelling involved. And a lot of swearing. Geralt doesn’t even try to keep count of how many times the word ‘idiot’ is used. It’s… well, a lot.

“How much time do we have left, then?” Jaskier asks when he finally calms down.

“Thirty-seven days,” Geralt sighs. “On the final day, I have until the sun sets.”

“Okay,” Jaskier nods. “I want to go to the coast.”

“The coast? But… why?”

“You don’t need to know. You owe me, Geralt. For all the lies. So we’re going.”

Geralt just nods. He knows Jaskier is right.

And if this is the very last thing the Witcher can do for him… then so be it.

*

Just as it did last year, the time flies when Geralt’s with Jaskier. The bard is mad at him, Geralt knows, but he never lets it show. He does his best to make Geralt’s final weeks as good as possible – and he succeeds. They travel together, laugh together, and, when they finally reach the coast, they even live together, in a tiny house Jaskier buys with all the money he earned during the winter.

It’s good. It’s great. And way, way too soon… it’s over.

Before the Witcher knows, his final day has arrived.

They are sitting on a cliff, side by side, and the sun is just beginning to set over the sea.

“Perhaps…” Jaskier whispers. “Perhaps you’re wrong. Perhaps the curse is already broken.”

“It isn’t,” Geralt mutters, staring at the sun. “I can feel it. It’s like… the sand in an hourglass. I can feel it running out.”

The sky is bright red. It would have been beautiful – if it didn’t herald the very last moments of the Witcher’s life.

“You’re just… so stupid,” Jaskier says, clearly frustrated. “You should have said something. We could have…”

“What? Fucked our way through all the brothels of the Continent in search of someone who would be willing to love me back?” Geralt smirks. “That’s why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want that.”

“We could have tried!” Jaskier groans.

“I just wanted everything to be… normal. You. Me. The Path. Monsters. You singing in taverns. Running away from cuckolded husbands. And wives,” he chuckles. “I wanted to spend my last year with you.”

Jaskier sighs, tears his eyes away from the sunset and looks at Geralt instead.

“Are you scared?” he asks.

“Not scared,” Geralt says. “But I wish I had more time.”

“If it helps, I also wish you had more time.”

Geralt turns his head and his eyes meet Jaskier’s.

“I know,” he whispers.

“Why did you say no when I…” Jaskier takes a deep breath and his eyes flit to Geralt’s lips. “When I said we could go to the town and find you a whore you could fuck before you drop dead? Surely it would have been much more pleasant than sitting here with me and counting the seconds you have left.”

“I…” Geralt says, almost inaudibly. From the corner of his eyes, he sees the sun’s almost down. “I don’t want some random whore. I want you. Always you.”

He hears the words leave his mouth but he doesn’t regret what he said, even as he sees Jaskier’s eyes go wide and hears the bard’s breath hitch in his throat. He is already almost dead. He won’t have to deal with Jaskier’s inevitable rejection.

And then he feels Jaskier’s lips press against his in a passionate kiss. Geralt moans, wraps his arm around Jaskier’s waist and kisses him back, just as passionately.

His heart is beating faster than it has been in years, perhaps decades. He can feel his own hands trembling.

Oh, yes, he thinks as he is being lowered to the ground until his back touch the grass and Jaskier is all over him. This is it. This is how I want to die.

The moment stretches on and on, as if time itself decided to slow down so Geralt could truly enjoy the thing he’s been waiting for… well, since he met the bard all those years ago, probably.

But then Jaskier pulls away, way, way too soon, and he stares at Geralt with his eyes wide, breathing heavily, before he turns his head towards the horizon.

The very, very dark horizon.

“Geralt,” he whispers. “The sun is down.”

It takes a few seconds before Geralt fully registers his words.

The sun is down, there is no doubt about it. The sun is down. He is alive. The horrible feeling of sand in his hourglass running out is… gone.

The curse is lifted. He’s sure of it.

And there is only one explanation.

“Oh,” he says then. “Oh, fuck. Lambert will never let me hear the end of this.”

Jaskier buries his face in his shoulder and groans.

“Tell me about it. Valdo Marx is gonna write a play about us. And her plays are horrible, Geralt!”

“Fantastic,” says a woman’s voice behind them. “I can’t wait to see it.”

They both turn their heads towards the owner of the voice. A little magical light flares up, but neither of the men needs it. They’d know her anywhere.

“Yen,” Geralt murmurs. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, you were supposed to be dead already,” the mage smiles. “I came to give the bard some moral support. And help him bury your body.”

“That’s… nice?” Geralt frowns.

“I was going to dump your stupid ass into the sea,” she shrugs.

“Not very nice,” Jaskier remarks. “But I would have helped.”

“Hey!” Geralt frowns. “I’m right here, you know? Alive.”

Jaskier, who’s still lying on top of the Witcher, looks down into a pair of yellow eyes and smiles. “Don’t worry, love. I’m aware. But you lied to me about the curse being lifted. No nice funerals for naughty Witchers.”

“You’re telling me you wouldn’t have mourned?”

“I would have, of course. Right after kicking your lifeless body down from the cliff.”

“Oh, Jaskier,” Yennefer laughs. “I’m starting to like you more and more.”

“And I’m starting to like this whole situation less and less,” Geralt growls. “Yen, as you can see, I’m alive, Jaskier doesn’t need any moral support, so could you just, you know… Leave? Because I’ve got a bard to fuck.”

“If you think he’s going to let you be on top,” she smirks, already opening a portal, “I believe you will find that you are sorely mistaken.”

“Correct,” Jaskier giggles, pressing his lips against Geralt’s throat.

“See?” Yennefer smiles. “Enjoy your night, Geralt. And see you around. Both of you.”

“Wait! What do you mean–“ Geralt starts, but the portal is already closing behind the mage.

And when Geralt feels Jaskier’s teeth gently dig into the skin just above his collarbone, he can’t bring himself to care about anything else.

*

A red-haired Witcher is sitting on the wall of Kaer Morhen, staring at the snow-covered trail below him. He has been sitting like this for quite a few hours, much to the dismay of another Witcher – a slim, blond and extremely bored one.

“Lambs,” the blond sighs. “I hate to tell you, but I don’t think he’s coming.”

“Shut up, Aiden,” Lambert murmurs. “And don’t fucking call me Lambs.”

“Sorry, honey.”

Lambert only hums, which means he absolutely isn’t listening – ha hates being called honey even more than being called Lambs.

Aiden looks down at the courtyard and stays quiet. There are times when trying to talk to Lambert is useless – and this is one of them. All he needs to do is wait until the ginger starts talking himself.

Which he does, a little while later.

“If he’s alive, he’s coming,” he says quietly. “The snow came early this year, but I’m sure he’s gonna get here somehow.”

“Is that why Vesemir’s nowhere to be found and Eskel has been trying to drink himself into oblivion ever since the morning?”

“They don’t think he’s alive. I do,” Lambert shrugs.

“You heard what people say. A Witcher and a bard went to the coast and never came back.”

“Yeah, but nobody said one of them died there,” Lambert growls.

“That doesn’t make sense, love.”

“I know. But he’s my brother. I’m not trying to make sense, I just… hope.”

“Right. Of course,” Aiden nods. Lambert is still staring at the path towards Kaer Morhen, but nothing is moving there.

Aiden bites his lower lip, looks back at the courtyard… And blinks.

“Uhm… Lambs?” he says.

“What did I just say?!” Lambert growls.

“Lamby,” Aiden says, a little more urgently.

“Don’t even fucking think about it.”

“Melitele’s tits,” Aiden smirks. “Should I just call you Your Royal Majesty or something?”

“Lambert is enough, you know.”

“Fine. Lambert,” Aiden says, rolling his eyes.

“What?” Lambert asks.

“You said your brother had white hair, right?”

“Yeah. Something about mutations gone wrong.”

“And he had a mage and a bard?”

“A bard traveled with him and he slept with a mage, right.”

“Black clothes?”

“Why are you asking all those questions?”

Aiden shrugs, still looking down at the courtyard.

“And it seems that he really, really hates portals?” the blond grins.

Lambert’s eyes go wide as he moves closer to Aiden to take a look.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me…”

*

The first thing Geralt does when he stumbles through the portal is checking that he still owns two legs. Then two hands. One neck. One head.

He knows he probably wouldn’t be checking anything if he didn’t have a head, but that doesn’t stop him.

“You forgot your cock,” Jaskier’s highly amused voice says. “You see, I’m fine with you being one-legged, but cockless? Never.”

“Don’t worry, bard, I took extra care to bring his cock along,” Yennefer replies. “It would truly be a terrible shame to lose it.”

“You think you’re so amusing, don’t you?” Geralt sighs before he drops to his knees and kisses the ground. “But I’m safe. Thank Melitele, I’m fucking safe.”

“And they say I am dramatic,” Jaskier says. “And you should be thanking Yen, not Melitele.”

“Fuck off, bard!” Geralt growls.

“So grumpy,” Jaskier snorts. “It’s not my fault that the winter came a bit early this year, is it?”

Geralt raises his head to glower at his lover.

“And who felt the need to go to Oxenfurt and brag to Valdo Marx about getting his Witcher? And who then decided to stay for three weeks to see the first showing of her new play The Power of a Bard’s Love?”

“Come on, she managed to write and rehearse it in those three weeks, just for me!”

“It could have been two, if you hadn’t spent a week trying to cast a perfect Geralt.”

“It was Gerard, actually. And the actors she picked simply weren’t able to convey your brooding grumpiness. I had to step in!”

“I agree,” Yennefer smiles. “That Gerard was spot on.”

“I hate you. Both of you.”

“No, you don’t,” she winks. “All right, boys. I will be on my way. Enjoy the winter in a drafty old castle. Geralt, no excessive drinking. Jaskier, do try not to spread your legs for everyone here.”

“Can’t make any promises,” Jaskier shrugs.

“Take care of Roach,” Geralt grunts.

“Of course I will, you idiot,” she rolls her eyes, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. “I’ll be seeing you in spring.”

Geralt hums as Jaskier steps closer, grins and presses his lips against the mage’s.

“I do hope you’ll stop by during the winter, too,” he murmurs. “We’re gonna miss you.”

“I’m sure you will,” she smiles and opens a portal. “Goodbye, boys.”

She steps in and the portal closes right behind her. Geralt sighs, wraps his arm around Jaskier’s waist a pulls the bard closer.

“Just the two of us, then,” he says. “Welcome to Kaer Morhen, bard. I hope the reality is even worse than you imagined. Please do remember that I told you to stay in Oxenfurt.”

“Without you? Never, love,” Jaskier says, pressing his lips against Geralt’s throat. “It would have been a terribly long winter.”

Just as Geralt is about to reply, they hear a yell from above them that is a perfectly equal mix between angry and delighted.

“You fucking piece of selkiemore shit! Don’t you dare move! I’m coming for you and I’m gonna fucking kill you!”

“That was my brother Lambert,” Geralt notes without even bothering to look up.

“I see,” Jaskier nods. “So it is going to be a long winter…”

[happyandticklish]

Take A Break

Notes: For the ask by @ticklish-sidekick who requested a Percy and Nico fic. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: Nico needs to take a break, but is being stubborn as usual. Luckily, Percy knows just how to handle obstinate demigods. 

“Hya!”

Nico lunged forward suddenly, his sword clashing with Percy’s. He grunted, attempting to untangle the block, but Percy was too quick for that. He brought their swords up suddenly, flinging the weapon from his hands. Emptyhanded, Nico dodged around Percy’s sides, attempting to wrestle the sword from him physically instead. Percy kicked his leg out from under him, causing the other to stumble and fall backwards onto the grassy field. Before Nico could regain his bearings he found a sword brandished neatly at his throat.

Nico swallowed, a hearty flush coloring his cheeks from the exercise. “Okay. You win.”

“Ah, you’ll get it next time. It just takes practice.” Percy lowered the sword, offering him a hand up. As Nico grasped his hand however, he jerked him forward suddenly and Percy yelped as he fell to the ground beside him.

“What were you saying?” Nico teased. Percy threw a handful of grass in his face, prompting the other to duck with an amused chuckle.

When Percy had first approached Nico about combat lessons, he had refused him. He figured he was already decent enough with a sword, and he had fought off enough gods and monsters to be fairly self-sufficient. Eventually though, after a humbling conversation with Hazel, he ended up taking him up on it.

He had quickly realized that it wasn’t just swordsmanship that Percy was offering to teach either, and soon Nico was learning different hand-to-hand combat maneuvers and sparring at least once a week with the other. It became almost a challenge for the two, each trying to come up with new strategies to best the other. It was fun. For the first time in a long while, Nico was genuinely enjoying himself.

As with most things though, he had thrown himself completely into it and found that he was quickly overextending himself with each session. Percy watched as Nico flopped down on the grass, throwing one arm across his face. He could see the rise and fall of his chest as the boy attempted to regain his breath and took in the other’s obviously sore features. 

“Exhausted yet?” Percy questioned, raising an eyebrow. “You want to take a break?”

“Not on your life,” Nico mumbled through the skin of his arm. “I could do this forever.”

“Right...” Percy crossed his arms in skeptical disbelief. There was no way Nico could go another round, especially training as hard as he had been. Still, he knew that simply saying that to the boy would have the exact opposite effect. He had to make him come to the conclusion himself. As he watched him, splayed out and vulnerable on the grass, an idea on how to do just that slowly started to form in Percy’s mind.

“Another round, huh?” Percy repeated, leaning forward on one knee to smirk at the boy. “In that case, maybe we should take it up a notch. A new level of training, something you’ve never experienced before.”

A thrill of excitement and worry trilled through Nico’s spine at the words and he slowly removed his arm to give Percy a curious look. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“It’s a surprise.” At Nico’s unimpressed glare, he quickly added, “It only works if you don’t know about it in advance. Trust me.”

“Trust you?” Nico scoffed, but he didn’t resist as Percy shifted to face him, grabbing both of his legs in an armlock. Experimentally, he tugged at his legs but found them to be truly stuck. Due to his playful and silly nature, Nico often forgot how strong Percy genuinely was after years of training. There was no way he was getting out of this.

Noticing the worried look on his face, Percy asked, “Nervous?”

Nico flushed, averting his gaze. It didn’t help that Percy’s physical proximity was doing strange things to his heart, either. “No, of course not. Bring it on.”

“Okay. Just remember that you asked for this.”

Percy’s other hand was obscured from Nico’s vision, so he was only able to watch in confusion as Percy readied his attack. One finger, quick and sudden, slid down the length of his left sole, and Nico was unable to stop his leg from jerking back at the touch.

“W-What the hell?” Nico asked uncertainly, but soon the finger continued, tracing soft and lazy spirals all over his soles. “P-Pfft, h-hey! Jahackson!”

“Hmm?” Percy shot him back an innocent glance. “What’s wrong? I thought you said you could handle it?”

“Y-Yeah, combat t-training,” Nico gritted out, stuttering over his words as he tried to hold back the laughter quickly bubbling up in his throat. “Nohot t—” he broke off suddenly, a blush spreading across his cheeks like wildfire. He cleared his throat, trying again. “Not tickling.”

“This is combat training. A form of it anyway.”

“T-Thihis isn’t trahaining! This is stuhupid!” A reluctant grin had begun to form across his features and Nico quickly covered it with one hand, using the other to prop himself up.

“It’s endurance training,” Percy corrected, changing tactics and scribbling all five fingers over his soles now. Nico choked over a laugh, attempting to cover it up as a cough. “You said you were up for the challenge. Maybe I was wrong though.” As he spoke, he spidered blunt nails all over the ball of his foot, causing Nico to squeak and fall back onto the grass, covering his face with both hands. “What do you think? Can the dark, ferocious ghost king not handle a couple of tickles?”

Nico tugged frantically at his legs, giggles spilling unwarranted from his lips. “Ihihihi cahahahan hahahahandle ahahanything—eep! Nohohoho, stahahahap!”

Percy scratched at the sensitive undersides of his toes, prompting the latter to go into a squirming, babbling fit. “How did I not know you were this ticklish? It’s adorable.”

“Nohohoho ihihit’s nahahahat!” Nico screeched with a violent blush, curling his toes uselessly. “Ahahahahand I’m nahahahat tihihihicklish!”

“No? Then why are you laughing?”

“B-Behehecause… behehehecause… behehehecause shuhuhuhut uhuhuhup!”

“I’ve got to be honest, that’s not a very convincing argument, Nico.”

Percy grinned, and before Nico knew what was happening Percy was sitting on top of his legs, effectively holding him still. With both hands free now, he quickly set to work raking nails up both feet and sending Nico into a new level of hysteria.

“Wahahahait nohohoho, hohohold ohohon ahahaha sehehecond!” Nico burst into a round of squeaky giggles, attempting to both hold himself up and cover his mouth to stop the flow of laughter from escaping, as well as somehow sit up and pry Percy off of him. “Dohohon’t!”

“You know how to make this all stop,” Percy reminded him. “All you have to do is admit that you need to rest and I’ll let you go.”

“Ihihihihihi dohohon’t neheheheed tohoho—gahahahaha, ohohoho gohohods!”

Deciding that it appeared to be his most sensitive spot, Percy had moved his focus back to his toes. Nico squeaked, launching forward to try to pry Percy off of him. Eventually, he settled on merely wrapping his arms around the other for support, burying his face in the back of his t-shirt. “A-Ahahahaha, Pehehehercy!”

“Yes?”

“Ihihihihit tihihihickles!”

“I am aware of that,” Percy agreed, biting his lip to hold back a smile at the adorable nature of his protests. “Your point?”

“Stahahahahap!”

“Are you going to take a break from training?”

“I dohohon’t neheheheed a breheheak!”

“Then no. I wonder what would happen if I did this?” Experimentally, Percy held back his toes with one hand, using the other to scratch the taut, exposed skin. The muffled shriek into his t-shirt said all Percy needed to know on how effective that particular method was.

Nico himself was just as surprised as Percy was at his apparent sensitivity. The only person who had ever tickled him before was Bianca, and after that everyone he knew was too afraid of the consequences to try. Now though, he found himself grateful that no one had, or he never would have been able to save face around any of his peers. Electric shocks seemed to shoot up his legs as Percy trailed devastating fingers over his soles in a manner that was far too ticklish to be fair.

Yet even as he protested and even as his composure trembled, he found that he was almost having fun. There was something nice about being able to freely laugh and squirm under someone else’s touch and not worry about being some tough, dark war hero.

That didn’t mean it didn’t tickle like hell though.

“I hahahahahate yohohou sohohohoho muhuhuch!” Nico giggled, legs jerking in their attempts to free themselves. “Ahahahah, ehehe, stahahahap!”

“Are you going to rest?”

“Thihihihis ihihihis stuhuhuhupid!”

“Are you?”

Percy scratched the spot right under his middle toe that had him howling, and suddenly Nico found he couldn’t take it anymore, even if his pride suffered. “Fihihihine, fihihihihine, I’ll rehehest! Juhuhuhust stahahahap!”

Finally, Percy let up and allowed him to breathe. For a couple of moments Nico stayed like that, fingers gripped tight around his t-shirt as he hugged the other from behind. He knew intellectually that he should let go of him. However, another, larger part of his brain wanted to stay curled up against him, soaking in the other’s body heat.

Eventually, Percy coughed, a faint flush tinging the ends of his ears. “Um, Nico? Are you okay?”

Nico’s eyes snapped open and he shoved Percy off him in a sudden, fluid motion, rolling over into a standing position. He brushed grass off himself, blaming the heat on his face from the tickling. “Uh, I’m going to go take that rest now. Thanks for… thanks for the training.”

“Oh.” Percy blinked at him, startled. “You’re welcome, I guess?”

Nico whirled around, picking up his sword and starting to head back down the hill towards the cabins. He paused after a second, turning back to glare at him. “Oh, and Percy? If you ever tickle me again I’ll decapitate you, got it?”

Percy opened his mouth to respond, but before he could Nico was off again.

Needless to say, Percy did tickle him again and though the other complained vehemently, he found that he didn’t mind it as much as he thought he would. 

Not that he would ever tell Percy that.

[authorialarcanist]

It Seems I'll Never Understand (Kagerou Project)

Genre: Angst

Rating: Mature

Pairing(s): Tateyama Ayano x Kisaragi Shintaro

Summary: "...Hey, Shintaro. Why'd you do it? I mean... You could have stayed out of it. It wasn't your fight."

In a world where Shintaro Kisaragi was the one who killed himself on that fateful august day two years prior, Ayano isn't sure what she can do with her life. Living in fear of the Snake of Clearing Eyes, all she can do is think back on the past, and wonder - why it was that her best friend took her place when she's sure he must have hated her, and when was it that it all went wrong.

Shinaya roleswap with a focus on making it work with as few changes to canon as possible.

---

It’s late - late enough that it’s gotten truly dark out. I’m walking along the road to my home, a boy next to me. The bridge we’re crossing seems to stretch out endlessly into the distance, illuminated only by the moon and the street-lamps we’re passing by.

I fiddle with my scarf absentmindedly as I steal a glance at his face. I’m so glad… I was finally able to become friends with him. Or, well… maybe ‘friends’ isn’t the right word just yet. To him, I’m sure I’m still just that stupid girl who made him tutor her for hours after class.

Still… I tell myself that this is the most important first step. Mm-hm. Now that I’ve introduced myself, I’m sure that we’ll be friends - real friends - in no time at all.

“You really saved my life! I never would’ve been able to finish that problem set on my own.” I grin weakly as my babbling inevitably turns to self-deprecation. Ah, well… after my terrible performance back there, trying to act cool for my new friend was a lost cause already. Well, if this was a manga, at least this might be the part where the aloof genius breaks character to reassure me that I can do it?

“Even with my help, it took you way too long…” He sighs. “Geez. I only came here to get my wallet, too. I must be really unlucky.”

—Yeah, right. I’ve only known this guy for a few hours now, but it’s pretty obvious that tender support isn’t his strong suit.

“I really am sorry…” I shrink a little under his criticism. “But! I promise, I won’t forget about today!”

“What are you saying? Didn’t you just say you forget things no matter how much you study?” Ow… I guess I did say that, but… he really has no faith in me at all, huh?

But he just doesn’t get it! Not quite panicking, I redouble my efforts to explain myself. “Today’s special! I’m going to try extra hard not to forget, so it’ll be okay!”

He hums in contemplation and stares away into the distance. And then—

—“Liar.”

I recoil from the sudden accusation. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

“You’ve broken your promise already, haven’t you? You can’t even remember my name.”

He picks up his pace, and though I try to follow, I can’t seem to move forward.

“Huh? Of course I can!”

“Really? Then why haven’t you said it?”

“Why are you so focused on that all of a sudden?”

“Say it, Ayano.”

“Stop it!”

“Say my name.”

“I— You’re—“ Tears spill from my eyes. I’m trying to say it. Why — why is this happening? Why couldn’t we just keep walking together, chatting about nothing important, like friends do?

“…Yeah. I thought so.” He stops walking, and for some reason, I freeze as well. I have no choice but to watch his back as he speaks. “I guess it’s not your fault, though. Sorry.” He shakes his head. “But… Try to remember, okay?”

He turns to face me again.

His eyes are red.

“If you can’t remember soon, then—“

——

Knock. Knock. Knock. Three hesitant raps on my door.

The sound wakes me from my dream. Already, it’s growing too hazy to remember. All I can say for certain is that hewas there.

He’s always there in my dreams. Maybe it’s some cruel balance for the fact that he’ll never be there again in real life.

“Ayano?”

At the sound of the voice calling for me, I turn over in my bed and bury my face in my pillow, trying not to make any sound to indicate that I’m awake.

“Ayano, please, I know you’re in there. I just want to talk.”

I don’t respond. My father is dead. That’s the best way to think of it. The safest way to think of it. Even when the snake lets him out, it’s only in the hopes of getting me to snap.

“Ayano, I’m sorry. I know I haven’t been the best father to you, since your mother died. But please, I just want to know what happened. What happened to Shuuya and Tsubomi and Kousuke. Why you won’t talk to me. Ayano, please.”

My hands clench against the pillow. I force myself to breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

“Ayano…”

In.

Out.

“…Just… think about it, okay? I’m here, if you’re ever ready to talk. Even if you need another two years, I’ll still be here.”

A lie. Dad won’t be here. Just the snake.

“…I love you.”

I stay silent, waiting until the sound of footsteps fades from my hearing. No matter how many times I go through this, it never gets any easier. But… I can’t talk to him.

Even if the snake wasn’t privy to his every thought, I can’t bring myself to speak with the man who sold my world.

“…Is… he gone?” A tinny voice whispers from my computer’s speaker.

I listen for a moment. When nothing happens, I nod. “Yeah.”

My computer monitor lights up as it exits sleep mode, and a girl in blue peeks out from her hiding place behind a browser window. “…I still don’t understand why you don’t leave here, Ayano-chan…”

I shake my head. “I… I just can’t. I’m sorry, Ene.” Ene… that’s what this girl calls herself. About a year ago, she popped out of an email and decided to stick around. She tried to put on this sassy, hyper front at first, but it fell apart pretty quickly.

I’m pretty sure I know who she really is, after all. And she knows I know. I just haven’t been cruel enough to push the topic.

It’s not like she has much of anywhere else to go, after all.

“…Okay. I get it.” She looks down at the taskbar and pokes her index fingers together. “Just… hang in there, okay, Ayano-chan? Do your best.”

“Like my best has ever mattered,” I mumble, and sit down at my computer chair. To be honest, my activities since dropping out of school two years ago have been nothing, nothing, and a heaping dessert of nothing. It’s not like I have any sort of online life to speak of, even. It’s just that… ultimately, there’s nothing else to do when I’m living under the same roof as my father. I can’t risk going outside at the wrong time and having to face him. At least he respects the boundaries of my room; and the snake finds it convenient to leave me a sanctuary under his supervision for as long as he doesn’t have any need of me.

“…So, um… Ayano-chan?” Ene glances up at me, a little shyly. “Can I ask about whether…”

Ah. That. I shake my head. “…I’m sorry. I’ve tried talking to him while my father was away, but Konoha really doesn’t seem to remember anything about us.” Konoha… the white-haired boy the Clearing Eyes took in really is just another reminder of my failures. Still, I know that’s not hisfault, and I can’t really blame Ene for being too scared to check up on him herself. Talking to him hurts badly enough for me, and I still hadn’t been quite as close to Haruka as she was. Honestly though, whenever I’d felt safe enough to slip out and check on him, Konoha had seemed pretty nonresponsive. Forget remembering me and Ene; he didn’t seem to remember anything, not even basic things like rain.

“I see…” Ene droops. This happens every time she brings up Konoha; as much as she’s tried to be around for me, I don’t have the first idea how to comfort her when this topic comes up.

Well, honestly, I don’t think I’m in a place to be comforting much of anyone. Back when I tried all those years ago, it only ended in pain.

In the end, I go with the tried and true method of pretending I didn’t see anything. When there’s nothing you can do, acknowledging the problem only ends in more tears, after all. I pass the day mindlessly browsing the web and making more paper cranes for the army that chokes every available surface in my room. Occasionally, I can’t help but fantasize about what things might be like if I had Paper-Animating Eyes. Sending an army of little origami birds to get revenge on the Clearing Eyes… it’d definitely be a more efficient way of getting a wish granted.

Ah well.

At least my father has work during the day and the snake has better things to do than waste time in this lonely house during the nighttime, so I’m able to check on Konoha and grab something from the kitchen for lunch on most days. That’s particularly important, because dinner can be much more spotty, depending on whether my father is in a “bury his problems in work” mood or a “try desperately to be present to make up for selling his soul to an evil snake” one. Well, okay, I really don’t know how much he’s able to retain about what the Clearing Eyes does when in control of his body, but if he really is oblivious about everything that might actually be worse.

Unfortunately he seems to be in a “try to atone” cycle right now, so I’m running off of a single meal when the knocks return once again.

“Ayano.”

Ene hides behind the browser window again, and I click off of the tab showing a video of a mongoose taking down a snake.

…What? Look, I have to deal with the spite somehow.

“I know you’re in there.”

I stay silent.

“I’ve got another mission for you, Ayano. You know the deal by now.”

I freeze. This isn’t dad.

“I trust I don’t need to spell it out for you?��

It’s the other one.

“I’m waiting.Or is this some pathetic attempt at rebellion? If so, I have to applaud. It’s the most pointless one yet.”

I finally find my voice. “I-I understand.”

“Heh. Good.” The snake chuckles. “Two children are coming to stay in this house soon. Your father’s sister-in-law, and some hanger-on. When they’re here, you’re going to be the model of a big sister, understand? Get them to trust you, and then make sure they’re in a certain place on August fifteenth.”

I shrink in on myself. Children? Please, no…

“I said, understand?You know what’ll happen to your family if you refuse…”

“N-no!” I shoot to my feet in panic. “No… I understand…”

“Good.” What should be my father’s voice drips with malice. “See? Wasn’t that easy? Goodbye, Ayano.” Saying the last two words in an odd sing-song voice, the snake leaves. I collapse back into my chair, hugging myself.

“A-ayano-chan…” Ene peeks back out from her hiding spot.

I turn to her with wide eyes.

“Ayano-chan, you don’t have to do this. Please, we can fight back. I’ll help you.”

…If only. But no, I know it’s hopeless.

I can’t fight the snake. All I can do is delay the inevitable.

I shake my head, and start disconnecting the speakers from my computer. If Ene tried to do something brave, and the Clearing Eyes found out…

“…Ayano, please…”

I pull the plug on my monitor. Ene may still have access to the inside of my computer, but the most she’ll be able to do in the house is open and close the CD drive.

“…sorry…” I whisper quietly to myself, even though I know she can’t hear me.

God, how did things turn out this way?

——

I have many precious memories, moments I’ve spent these past two years trying desperately not to forget. Reading storybooks at bedtime with my mom. Meeting my little siblings for the first time. The way my dad’s face used to look when he’d play with us, long before everything happened.

If you were to look through those treasured days, flipping from one to another as though they were files secreted away in a lockbox, one might still stand out from the rest. Perhaps it’s laminated, or hidden behind a false back. Not because it’s more precious than the others - I wouldn’t trade my family for anything - but because it’s unique nonetheless. A moment elevated in its rarity, and in the pain it brings me - not the dull ache of my mom’s face, nor the stabbing betrayal of my father’s failures and mine, but a gaping void of ‘what if’s.

The first time I ever got to see Shintaro smile.

It was during our second year of middle school, a couple months after the day I finally introduced myself. The last test I’d gotten back had been my lowest score yet, and with exams rushing to meet me, I was honestly in a panic.

But then, Shintaro’d spoken up. For the very first time, he gave me a totally unprompted offer to help me study.

“Thank you so much,” I’d sobbed. “I don’t know what I was gonna do…”

“Ugh, don’t be annoying about it!” He’d refused to meet my eyes as he grumbled. “I just know that if you failed your exams I’d somehow get dragged into helping you catch back up. It’s just easier to get this over with this early, alright?”

Whatever his stated reasons, I still felt like I’d been saved when he stuck around to help me pound the latest lessons into my skull. And I don’t know if we finished faster than usual, if something good had happened to him at home, or if his guard was just down that day for some other reason, but one way or another, he decided to stick around and chat for a bit afterwards.

I can still picture it clearly. That sunny classroom, me perched on my desk to bask in the light from the window, him leaning his chair back as we killed time… and the glint of light that drew my eye to the spine of a book just peeking out of his bag.

“Hm? Hey, Shintaro?”

“What?” He glanced lazily back at me.

I tilted my head to read what I could from the spine. It rung a bell; I’d overheard some of the other girls in our class talking about it from time to time. “Isn’t that ‘Let’s Fall In Love’?”

“HUH?” I winced at the sudden crash as Shintaro lost his balance and fell in a heap.

“Ah! Are you okay? I’m sorry!” I rushed to help him up, but he just scrambled back until he was pressed against the wall.

“W-w-w-what are you talking about? I-I don’t, I mean, that’s not—“ Shintaro grabbed suddenly for his bag, but his hand missed its mark and sent the contents spilling out as it toppled over instead. The book landed face up, its cover proudly displaying a drawing of a boy and a girl standing together in a very shoujo-esque artstyle. Emblazoned above the picture was ‘Let’s Fall in Love ~ by Yumeno Sakiko.’

“Umm…”

“I mean! It’s Momo’s! Yeah! My little sister wouldn’t stop pestering me, so I picked up her copy for her, uh-huh! I definitely don’t read shoujo manga!” His stuttering picked up pace as he scrambled for excuses, and I couldn’t help it - some part of me kinda wanted to watch him squirm for a little longer.

So, I grinned slyly and searched my memory of my classmates’ conversations. “Uh-huh? You know, with how Mamiko and Oze were talking in the latest chapter, don’t you think there might be a chance they’ll—“

“THAT’S HERESY!” Shintaro slammed his hands down on the ground, and I winced at the sudden spike in volume. “Mamiko and Suzuki are meantto be together!” He clenched his fist and held it to his chest. “I can’t imagine how anyone would think otherwise after that moment in volume 7! And anyways, Oze and Waka may be having a fight right now, but everyone… knows…” He trailed off as my control failed me and I started to giggle. “…Fine. You caught me. Happy now?”

At the sight of him forcing down a pout and struggling to regain a serious expression, I laughed even harder.

“…So I like shoujo manga. Is it really that funny to you?”

“No, no! I’m sorry!” I did my best to get myself under control. “It’s not that, honestly. You just looked so earnest, and then you kept trying to hide it… If reading that sort of thing makes you happy, then I think that’s a goodthing! It’s actually kinda c—“ I suddenly realized what I was about to say, and blushed heavily. “—I mean, it’s kinda cool! Yeah! You shouldn’t worry what other people will think about your interests, you know?” Oh yeah, that was an absolutely stellarsave, Ayano. Absolutely nobody was gonna suspect that you almost called your classmate ‘cute’ without thinking. Aside from, I dunno, people with eyes.

Thankfully, all of that intelligence must have come out of Shintaro’s perceptiveness instead, because he let it pass without comment. “So…” Shintaro seemed to be looking anywhere in the room other than my face, which might have helped the whole ‘not noticing my face doing a bonfire impression’ thing. “Do… you also read it, then?”

“Huh?”

“Y, you know! ‘Let’s Fall in Love’!”

“A, ah! Right!” I snapped out of my thoughts. Right, let’s just pretend that slip never happened for now, and I can unpack whatever the heck it meant on my own time, when I won’t make my one school friend think I’m even more of a weirdo than he already does. “Ehehe… Not really, actually.” I scratched the back of my head and grinned sheepishly. “I was just parroting something I overheard. I’m more into the shounen stuff, you know? Hot-blooded super sentai fighting to save the world, and all that.”

“Really? But they’re so formulaic. You can see everything coming from a mile away. And how do those guys get through posing dressed like that and not die of embarrassment?”

Well, I couldn’t just sit there and take that. “What? Hold on a moment, like your mushy stuff is any better! Aren’t they all just ‘boy meets girl, cue nothing happening for the rest of their school lives’?”

“Wh— they are not!There’s nuanceand relationship growth and everything!” Woah. Shintaro was looking about the most fired up I’d ever seen him! At that thought, an idea clicked in my head.

“Hmm… Alright, then!” I grinned at him and gave a sharply enunciated chuckle, heh-heh-heh. “Why don’t you tell me more about this series, and if you manage to change my mind I’ll give reading it a try? And then, in return, you’ll watch an episode of Engine Sentai Go-Onger with me, and we’ll see how you feel about heroes after that!”

Shintaro rose to the challenge. “Fine! Come on then, I’ll teach you about why Yumeno-sensei is a master! I mean, her portrayal of Mamiko’s inner struggles alone touches the heart, even for a boy like me! There’s this moment in chapter 12 when she…” He lit up as he talked, gesturing wildly with the plot points. I’m a little ashamed to say that I actually stopped paying attention after a few moments, because my focus suddenly seemed drawn to his face. He was grinning - actually grinning, the first genuine smile I’d seen from him in, well, ever- as he opened up about his interest.

I can only remember thinking two things as we walked home that day.

The first was, ‘What a pretty smile.’

The second was, ‘…oh. Crap.’

…So, yeah. It looked like I maybe had a teeny little crush. That was okay! It was fine! It meant I was finally starting to grow up, right? Anyways, whatever Shintaro’s romance manga said, I was pretty sure that people were supposed to get a lot of those with time. They didn’t have to mean anything, or, y’know, gamble their only real non-family friendships on the chance that someone who was really smart and cute would still want to hang out with a dumb girl they barely tolerated helping out if she asked.

Not a problem! I’d just go about my life as normal, and it’d fade in time. Eventually, I’d probably look back on this day and laugh.

…And if in the meantime, I wanted to see him smiling like that again? Well, that could be my little secret.

——

Of course, let nobody accuse me of being a good planner. Obviously, the darn thing only seemed to get stronger with time. Wanting to see Shintaro smile because I wanted him to be happy slowly morphed into wanting to be the reasonhe was smiling like that. Hoping that maybe, if I could be the one to make this lonely boy smile, that’d mean I was actually worth somethingreally the hero I pretended to be.

Mom died, and I had to be the strength for the whole family as dad seemed like half his world had gone missing, but no matter how much I needed comfort of my own, I wasn’t ready to tell him.

We met Takane and Haruka, and one friend turned into three, but even though I’d only be gambling 33% instead of 100, I was still too scared to tell him.

And then I found out that dad had changed, what the thing in his body had planned for Haruka and Takane and my siblings, and suddenly my stupid little feelings didn’t seem so important. I had to research the read eyes, and I needed Shuuya to cover for me, and in the end I didn’t have the attention to spare for my friend my crush my…

…for Shintaro. Maybe that’s why I didn’t notice our growing distant. Why I didn’t notice things growing strained.

Why I didn’t notice that I really was just burdening him with my own expectations.

Didn’t notice until a hill at sunset, a hand snatched away, his back receding into the distance while I stood alone.

After that, I wondered about a lot of things. How much had been genuine, and how much really had just been putting up with me. How much of my motives had been pure, and how much had been that dark little thrill of seeing him down and feeling like I was still needed.

How cruel it must have been, to plan what I was planning and still try to hold onto his hand until the last minute.

So I didn’t try again. I delegated as much school time as I could to Shuuya (and carefully didn’t wonder why his face was growing more stressed, why his own time seemed to draw thin.) I withdrew further, and dedicated everything I had to my lonely mission. August fifteenth came all too soon at last, and I shoved my responsibilities onto Takane, told her to be honest with her feelings even as I swore that my own were better ignored. I wrapped my scarf around my neck, the colour of a hero, I steeled myself and turned to mount the stairs, and I was interrupted.

“Shuuya? What are you doing?” My little brother had arrived in front of me, hands on his knees as he gasped for breath.

“N, neechan, please!” Panting, Shuuya raised his eyes to meet mine. They glistened with tears. “You have to— you have to stop Shintaro-kun! He’s about to do something really stupid!”

“Huh?” I was taken aback. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s already gone to the roof! I couldn’t do anything! Neechan, please!”

“The roof?” I still didn’t understand, but I burst into a run anyways, leaving my brother behind. Why was Shintaro even here today, when he didn’t need summer school? Why did Shuuya know about it? What could he be doing on the roof, other than…?

He wasn’t involved. God, please, he wasn’t involved, why was he here?

I took the steps two at a time, ignoring the pain shooting through my lungs, and had no choice but to stop for breath and lean against the wall for a moment when I finally reached the door leading outside.

My father’s voice filtered in from outside. No - not my father. The thingwearing his skin. “Honestly, kid.” He sounded mildly exasperated, like my dad did whenever a student had turned in a particularly baffling answer on a quiz. “You think that you’re gonna be the big damn hero? You really think there’s a single thing you can do here to beat me?”

“No.” Shintaro, this time. “Honestly, it’s a stupid plan. Totally useless in every way. But hey.” A dark chuckle. “Objectively speaking, the life of a rotten boy like me is just worthless enough to make it worth trying.”

I’d finally caught my breath, but at that it caught in my throat. Did he mean—

I burst through the door, screaming, “Shintaro, NO!” The roof was empty except for two people. My father, standing on solid ground looking mildly vexed. And Shintaro, clad in that red jersey I’d said I liked, the color of a hero, sitting perched half-on the fence around the edge of the roof and half dangling over open air.

His eyes met mine, and no matter how hard I try I know I’ll never forget the way his face clouded over, the way his eyes darkened, or the words he said to me at that moment.

“…Oh.

“Ayano.

“The very last person I wanted to see.”

His final curse delivered, he leaned back. The world distorted around him, horrible discordant red tearing open fangs in the sky.

And he fell.

I must have screamed, but it’s a blur. I just know that by the time I came to, I’d fallen on my knees, and the thing that took my father was laughing.

Laughing.

“Ha! You kids never fail to surprise me, you know that? I never once would have expected that depressing little thing to get up off his ass and do something like this!” He paused. “Well okay, I guess I would, but the part where he tried to stand up to me was still new.”

Before I even knew what I was doing, I’d jumped to my feet and was tackling him. “SHUT UP!”

“Whoops!” Somehow, my father’s body stepped out of the way before I could react. I found myself impacting concrete and rolling on the roof, scrapes all over my body where I’d fallen. “Come on, brat. You’re a big girl now, you should be used to hearing swear words by now. Or wait, are you angry about the boy?”

With a wordless scream, I threw myself at him again, but this time he casually stuck out a leg and tripped me.

“You might still have time to save him, you know. Throw yourself off the roof after him, and maybe you could convince him to come on out and bring me that snake he stole.” He sneered. “Of course, it’d mean making this whole little sacrifice play all for nothing. And this guy” he tapped the side of my father’s head, “might even willingly help me kill the brat if you did! Oh, now thatdespair would be delicious to see.”

I swallowed the pain as my fists clenched, scraped raw though they were. “…Shut up. You… you’re just trying to convince me because you know your plan’s finished. You can’t gather the snakes now. There’s no… no more reason to kill Takane and Haruka, or the others.”

*snrk.* The monster covered his mouth with a hand.

“What’s supposed to be so funny?”

“Ha! Oh, I’m sorry. It’s just… you think this kid managed to save your friends? Please.” He rolled his eyes. “He was too late. They’re already dead.” He shrugged and continued in a sing-song voice. “And anyways, the boy was a goner already. You should be thankingme; this way, at least he has a chanceof living for another year or two.”

“W…what…?” I slumped, the fight draining from my veins. No. It couldn’t be. Takane and Haruka… they were gone, too?

My “father” walked up to me and rested a hand on my shoulder. To anyone watching, it might have just looked like a father comforting his daughter; but I could feel his fingers dig into my flesh in a vice grip. “Still, working this all back out from the top is going to be a pain. And that’s not even counting all of the cleanup I have to do! It’s one thing for those other two kids; I’d made preparations for them. But spinning the sudden disappearance of this brat, too? No, that’s far too much work.” He crouched down until he was level with me, a too-wide smile on his face. A shiver ran down my spine. “So, Ayano.I’m going to have you do me a little favor, alright? And before you consider trying to do something brave, consider just who it is that has your family’s life in his hands, hmm? Don’t say anything; just nod.” I nodded, stricken. Everything I’d planned had come to nothing in a few short minutes. “You’re going to find Shuuya for me, and you’re going to have him go make himself look like this guy -“ he waved vaguely at the empty edge of the roof - “’s body for me. A suicide should be easy enough to explain away. Especially when the victim was as gloomy-looking as this asshole here. Honestly, people’re gonna think it was a miracle he lasted as long as he did.” My fists clenched again at relentless slander, but there was nothing I could do. I was totally and utterly defeated. “You got it, Ayano? Do this, and I’ll let the people you care about live a little longer.” He chuckled. “…Well, what’s left of them, at least. Hahahaha!”

How could I have ever thought I could be a hero? All I’d managed to do was arrive too late to save either of the snake’s intended victims, and drag a bystander to his death in the process.

In the end, tears streaming down my face, all I could do was nod.

——

“Neechan!” Shuuya rushed up to me the minute I exited the school. He grabbed my hands - I didn’t resist - and gasped at the scrapes all over them. “What happened to you? Where’s Shintaro-kun?”

“Shintaro— He’s—“ My voice caught.

“Nee…chan…?” I could see the exact moment Shuuya caught on. His eyes widened and his face fell, all in one motion. “Dammit! And just when the guy starts to convince me he’s not all bad, he has to go and do something like this…” His hands tightened involuntarily around mine, but I couldn’t even find the energy to wince.

I spoke in a flat voice, forcing myself to put one word in front of the next. “Shuuya. There’s something very important I need you to do.”

“Huh? What is it?”

“You need to use your power to turn into Shintaro. Let somebody discover ‘his’ body, so there’ll be a record. If you don’t, then… then he’ll…” My voice caught again, but I forced myself to continue before Shuuya could ask any questions. “And then there’s one more thing you need to do. I need you to take Tsubomi and Kousuke, and go away. Go somewhere far away from here, and don’t— don’t tell me anything about where you’re going. You can’t contact me at all, okay? I can’t have any way to find out more about you.”

“W—what?”

“It’s the only way that you’re going to be safe. I… we can’t stop the Clearing Eyes. He can have you all killed in a moment.”

Shuuya must have been able to see the seriousness in my eyes, because he didn’t try to debate the point. “Okay, but… Why can’t you come with us? We can all run, that’ll be safer!”

I just shook my head. “…No. He… he’ll find me, somehow. He knew how to respond to everything that I tried. Anything I do… no matter what, I’m sure he’ll…” I hugged myself and started slowly walking towards the path home. It was clear to me now. I was nothing more than a puppet dancing on the Clearing Eyes’ strings.

“W-wait, Neechan! Come back!”

“Goodbye, Shuuya. Please don’t forget to do what I told you. Consider it… My final request as your sister.”

“NEECHAN!”

——

“…Hey, Shintaro. Why’d you do it?”

I lie on my back, staring at the empty ceiling as I talk to the air.

“I mean… You could have stayed out of it. It wasn’t your fight.”

The cranes crowding every surface above me seem to swirl and distort, like a heat haze.

My head keeps playing his final moments on repeat. Even as the happy days grow dimmer and dimmer, I can’t seem to forget his last words no matter how hard I try.

‘The very last person I wanted to see.’

“If… if you hated me so much, why didn’t you just let me be the one to jump? Why take my place?”

I wonder… if I’d been the one to jump that day, would he have been able to do what I couldn’t? I indulge in a brief fantasy of Shintaro, red jacket flapping behind him, standing tall with my siblings as they face down the Clearing Eyes together.

…Somehow, I just can’t see it. Sorry, Shintaro.

‘The life of a rotten boy like me is worthless’

“…Did you hate yourselfthat much? Were you so sick of life that you grabbed the first excuse you could find?”

…Maybe. But… somehow, as much as he tried to shut the world out, I can’t help but see Shintaro as someone who was brimming with life underneath it all. At the very least, whenever he talked about his sister, he didn’t seem like he’d want to leave her.

The thought of Momo-chan makes me wince. Another memory, this time of her crying and screaming at me when I’d tried to comfort her.

When I’d broken down and sobbed that it was all my fault.

I can’t blame her for hating me. To be honest, I wonder if it wasn’t what I was secretly hoping for.

Just another case where Ayano’s self-satisfaction came before actually doing her job.

My alarm clock rings. I’d set it instead of my phone, to make sure Ene couldn’t try and be a hero. (I can’t help but hope that she’s given up on me, and found her way to somebody who’ll be a better friend.) It means that the children…

…my victims…

…should be arriving soon.

I push myself to my feet. In the end, even blaming myself is just pointless self-satisfaction. I’ve made the choice to play this role; I made the decision that these two children were worth less than the family I know and care about.

It doesn’t take too long to get myself presentable. I choose an outfit that looks like its owner hasn’t been in hiding for the last two years, and glance at my scarf, hanging wrinkled and dusty on a hook.

My hands shake.

And I turn away without touching it. I don’t deserve to wear that color.

Not when red is the color of blood.

“Sorry, Shintaro. Guess you made the wrong trade, in the end. Even a genius like you makes mistakes, huh?”

With that snide remark, I turn my back on his sacrifice and walk out into the house.

…Still, a thought flits across my mind.

—Ah, I would have liked to see that smile, just one more time.

The doorbell rings. It’s time.

I hide my feelings behind a smile, painting it from ear to ear.

And I open the front door.