#I imagine he hates drawing attention to how short he is and is mildly embarrassed by it

[ridiasfangirlings]

AliHida height swap, Akiyama is the tall giant while Hidaka is perfectly of average height. How does that affect their relationship in general? (Can also be due the effect of a strain)

I like the idea ofthis being a Strain effect because imagine Akiyama being unexpectedlypleased by his new height while Hidaka’s all ‘….so this is whatit’s like not having to duck when you walk through a door.’ When theStrain first hits them I think everyone else is suddenly surprised byhow short Hidaka is now that he’s Akiyama’s height, like normallyAkiyama’s so calm and authoritative that most of the cast has neverrealized how short he really is (until I had to look it up for an askonce I had no idea that not only is Akiyama shorter than Fushimi buthe’s actually the third shortest member of the squad, ahead of onlyEnomoto and Fuse). Now that the much less intimidating Hidaka hasAkiyama’s height he just seems really short, like are you sure youand Akiyama switched heights because I don’t think Akiyama was thatshort, Benzai probably has to verify because he knows Akiyama’s exactheight. Meanwhile Akiyama is now twice as intimidating andauthoritative as a tall giant, and is also surprisingly pleased byhow easy it is to reach the high shelves.

I can see thisbeing a bit weird for their relationship, like Hidaka’s actually alittle disappointed that he can’t rest his chin on Akiyama’s headanymore and he misses being able to just wrap himself entirely aroundAkiyama like he used to. Akiyama I could see being suddenly a lotmore awkward about his secret dom tendencies, like he’s already a biton edge about them and tends to go from 'lick my boots’ to 'oh dear Ididn’t tie the knots too tight did I let me get you some cream forthe rope burn’ but now that he’s taller he feels like it’sjust…mean to be tying Hidaka up and making him beg. Alsoimagine that usually Akiyama complains about Hidaka being taller thanhim (at least in part because since Hidaka’s so tall he’s one of thefew alphabet boys who’s noticed that Akiyama’s a little on theshor…perfectly average height end of things and so Hidaka sometimeslikes to tease Akiyama a bit about his height) but secretly he ratherlikes being held by his giant boyfriend and fitting so nicely againsthim, and now he feels all awkward and giant and clumsy.

[trashytummiez]

Could you write a story about Mina and Kirishima having a date where their appetites get the better of them, so they wind up all full and burpy?

Kirishima had always been meaning to ask Mina out on a date but every time he tried to work the nerve to talk to his pink-skinned classmate the butterflies in his tummy would always get the better of him and he'd always chicken out. So when she ended up asking him out instead it certainly made things a lot easier. She always knew how to make everything look so much easier than it was after all.

The two ended up going out to dinner which Mina insisted was really casual. Kirishima still kept trying to mind his manners all throughout dinner but unfortunately the red haired boy also had one of the most immense appetites within UA. Meaning despite his best efforts he ended up eating quite a lot more than he intended to eat but he just couldn't help himself. The food was simply way too good and the well-meaning boy ended up eating a whole heck of a lot more than he intended to eat on his first date with his long time friend.

But to Kirishima's surprise whereas most girls might have been turned off by his voraciousness Mina was right there with him every step of the way. He knew the pink girl had a pretty big appetite of her own but he never imagined in his life that she could ever pack it away an ounce as much as she had done on their date. It was surprisingly disarming and only worked to help Kirishima relax that much more around her which only encouraged him to eat even more as the night went on.

By the time they were back at Kirishima's place both teens were stuffed to the brim. "Unngh man I'm stuffed..." Kirishima groaned heavily and placed both hands atop his belly. He'd eaten so much that his tummy was bulging out as though he swallowed a beachball that rode his t-shirt up and exposed his bare stomach. It churned noisily while Kirishima rubbed it to try and soothe that persistent ache. His stomach felt so incredibly heavy and taut after eating so much in one sitting. "How're ya holdin' up Mina-chan?"

"Unnnnnnngh..." was the only reply he got when the bloated pink girl flopped down lazily onto the couch next to the red haired boy.

When Kirishima glanced over at his date and saw how much she'd managed to eat in full he couldn't help being impressed.

Mina's tummy was huge.

Like Kirishima she looked as if she swallowed a basketball. Though it was notably smaller than Kirishima's belly due to the strength of his stomach and his overall endurance it was nonetheless big enough that her own top was riding up and her shorts were both unbuttoned unzipped and even tugged down a little to give her big perfectly round tummy some much needed breathing room. But because of the nature of her acidic quirk much of what she had eaten was already well more digested than what Kirishima ate. Which was why Mina's stomach looked much softer and more sloshy than Kirishima's rock hard stomach.

"Dude I can't believe how full my tummy is right now," Mina said rubbing her belly and giving a strained huff in the process.

Kirishima couldn't help snicker at her adorable use of the word 'tummy'. "Heh at least we know you could kick Kaminari's ass if he tries to challenge ya to an eating contest," he said encouragingly.

Mina giggled but that soon turned to a sickly groan when the giggling made her tummy jiggle and slosh heavily.

Kirishima saw that and scratched the back of his neck bashfully. "My bad."

But Mina waved her hand dismissively and smiled at the sight of Kirishima's larger belly. "I'm still blown away by how much you managed to eat over there. You almost look pregnant!" She teased and gave Kirishima's big belly a teasing pat.

Kirishima blushed both from the joke and from Mina's hand thumping his tummy like that. Unfortunately that pat she gave disrupted some of the pressure that was brewing in his stomach. It wasn't long into his binge eating that Kirishima felt the need to burp really badly. But because he was around Mina he didn't want to embarrass her or gross her out with his crudeness especially if he wanted there to be a second date. All dinner long Kirishima desperately needed to burp but had been holding it in all night. He knew if he tried to let out muted ones to relieve pressure it would all come rushing up. And he knew if he gave any closed mouth burps those would still be loud enough to draw attention.

So when Mina's pat tried to work the pressure up his throat Kirishima desperately willed himself not to burp hoping instead he could excuse himself for a moment to leave long enough to let loose clear of Mina's earshot. Mina looked at him with confusion when she saw Kirishima clamping a hand over his mouth and looking mildly nauseous.

"Are you okay? You're not about to be sick are you?" She asked obvious to Kirishima's gastric distress.

All Kirishima could do was nod desperately in the hopes to holding back the pressure.

But then a thick gurgle erupted from Mina's own bulging tummy. And without a moment of hesitation Mina threw her head back and gave a huge throaty burp that completely caught Kirishima by surprise.

HHHRRRRREEEEEEERRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUURRRRAAAAAAAAAHHPP!!!!!!!

Kirishima was in awe. Not only was Mina even remotely embarrassed by letting out a big unladylike burp but she looked almost as proud as she did relieved the way she moaned in satisfaction and gave her belly such a hearty pat of relief after. Her tummy jiggled and sloshed heavily from the pat she gave it.

"Ohhhhhh yeah I needed that good god," Mina moaned contently then casually let rip another hearty burp. She turned to Kirishima and tilted her head. "Sure you're okay? You're sweating bullets."

Unfortunately since Kirishima was so awestruck he had almost forgotten how turbulent his tummy was getting when he tried to assure her that he was okay. Because the only thing that exited Kirishima's mouth was a giant burp that was infinitely louder than what Mina had just let out.

BBBBRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHRRAAAAAHHP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

All that gas Kirishima had been holding in came violently rushing out of him like a bomb. That had to be one of the biggest burps Kirishima had ever let out. And the relief he felt was immense. But with that monster freed came all the pressure behind it.

Kirishima palmed the side of his bloated belly and brought a fist up to his mouth in time to give an incredibly deep closed mouth burp Mina could hear rumbling quite loudly in Kirishima's mouth. Then Kirishima gave an even longer and deeper closed mouth burp that made him wince from how hard it was to hold back from exiting his mouth.

He wearily blew the gas off to the side and sighed heavily giving his tummy a few hearty pats of his own. But he nonetheless blushed and gave a bashful, "'scuse me. Sorry but I really needed to get that out..."

Mina giggled loudly. "What are you apologizing for dude? That was a great one! Bet that felt amazing too!" She patted Kirishima's belly a few times then started rubbing it a little firmly. "Got any more in there?"

Kirishima was blushing immensely from having his tummy rubbed by his pink skinned crush. "Umm...p-probably..." he said timidly. Her rubbing was not only deeply sensual when his belly was so heavy and full but it was stimulating his stomach muscles enough to circulate more air in Kirishima's stomach.

He turned his head and gave a really big burp that he couldn't hold in.

BBBRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHP!!!!!

Mina giggled some more. "Wow you really were holdin' back all dinner weren't you!" She said and gave Kirishima's tummy a few firmer pats.

"Well I was..." Kirishima paused to give a really deep burp that left him panting. "...AAAAAAUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRHP!!!! Ohhhh man...but yeah, I was tryin' not to embarrass you."

Mina tilted her head in confusion. "What by burping? Who cares? I'm not Momo dude! I wasn't gonna get grossed out or anything."

"Yeah but we were also in...buuuuuuuhhhp...unf...in public. It's not manly to potentially gross other people out when they're tryin' to enjoy their meals."

Mina simply gave Kirishima a smile and teasingly poked his belly button a few times which made him blush even harder.

"You're too cute sometimes," she said which earned a bashful smile from the muscular boy. "Well either way if ya gotta burp don't hold back dude! I'm definitely not gonna," Mina said.

And right on cue her own belly gave another thick churning sound which made Mina's face tighten.

That was until she gave a thick rumbling burp that rolled out of her for a few seconds. But Mina maintained that look and held up a finger.

"Mph wait there's more," Mina said in a concentrated tone. She gave her glutted tummy a few pats which drew Kirishima's eyes to her bulging pink belly watching its flesh ripple with each pat she gave and slosh like it was full of incredibly rich jelly. She gave another low rolling burp and followed it up a few shorter ones.

BRRRAAAAAAAAARRRUUUUUUUURRRUUULLLLP!!!!!!

HRRRRUUUUUUUuuuuuuurrrOOOOOOOORRrrlk!!!

BrrrrruUUUUHP!!

As none of the burps gave Mina any relief she huffed in frustration that almost resembled a mildly nauseous pout.

"Ungh hate when they get stuck like that," Mina complained gently stroking her tummy from side to side while it churned noisily. "Kirishima you wanna gimme a hand?"

The bloated red haired boy tilted his head in confusion. "Ummm...whadduya mean?"

"I mean literally gimme your hand silly!" Mina said and grabbed Kirishima's hand. The boy yelped and went as red in the face as his hair when Mina placed his hand right against the dead center of her utterly engorged belly.

It felt so unbelievably soft to the touch and was so fast at digesting that her tummy almost felt a little squishy the way Kirishima's hand sank mildly into her bloat.

"There ya go! Now all you gotta do is push down!" Mina explained.

Kirishima gulped thinly and anxiously. He'd never touched Mina's flesh so intimately before and something about holding her belly just made Kirishima feel incredibly funny. But in a pleasant sort of way he couldn't describe.

Pushing thoughts aside for a moment Kirishima took a nervous breath then did as Mina asked by pushing down into her tummy.

Straight away a rush of gas worked its way up her chest and Mina this spunky pink skinned girl expelled a burp so loud that Kirishima almost mistook it for a dragons roar.

AAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUURRRRHHHHHRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOORRRHHHHHPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Kirishima was amazed. Not only was such a monumental burp easily a record breaker but he could feel Mina's tummy rippling under his palm from how intense that burp was.

Mina looked dazed but oh so relieved when it ended the way she slumped in her seat and nearly went cross eyed.

"Ohhhhh wow...that felt amazing..." Mina moaned.

Though he was still blushing Kirishima gave a fang-y grin. "Dude that was manly!" He said and gave Mina's jiggling tummy a few pats.

Mina hiccuped from the patting then grinned at Kirishima. She subtly gulped down some air which made her tummy feel mildly tighter under Kirishima's hand. Then Mina burped that air back up in the form of the words "Th-AAAAAAAAAAANNK . . . YYYYOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!"

Kirishima was taken aback by Mina burp-talking so effortlessly and really stretching the 'you' out for as long as she could. It left her panting when she finally finished and managed a weary giggle.

She seemed to be helping Kirishima to get more comfortable because the manly boy took in a few gulps of his own and gave an even louder response to Mina's crass antics.

AAANYY...

T-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMMME...

DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Kirishima successfully burp-talked the words 'anytime dude' with his eruptive dialogue getting louder with each word until he pushed out a really loud finish.

Both teens broke into a fit of laughter at their incredibly juvenile antics. Mina's tummy kept jiggling the more she laughed but with all that gas let loose it didn't hurt as much to laugh as prior. When the laughter subsided Kirishima smiled fondly. Because he was so much more comfortable now he began to gently rub Mina's belly.

The pink girl closed her eyes and sighed contently while Kirishima's hand gently stroked up to the roundest peak of her tummy and down all the way to her delicate lower tummy without reaching too low in case that made his date uncomfortable. But at this point Mina didn't appear uncomfortable with anything. She sighed happily and leaned against Kirishima and leaned further into his hand.

He continued to gently rub her belly and feel that odd warmth throughout his body. Kirishima couldn't explain it but the sight of Mina's tummy so big and round and the feeling of it brought an indescribable pleasure for the boy. A feeling that was more subtly matched by Mina whenever she caught a glimpse of Kirishima's belly in its bloated state.

Neither one could put into words what they were feeling. But they both knew that they very badly wanted to see the other getting stuffed like this again in the future.

Which all but guaranteed there would be a second date. And a third. And a fourth after that.

But for now both teens could very comfortably say this first date couldn't have gone any better.

[eddiesasspbrak]

Daydreams

Richie had trouble staying focused in class, always daydreaming about Eddie. He gets caught one too many times and has to face the punishment.

Part of my “I’d rearrange the alphabet to put U and I together” series

Read on AO3

A    E

3k+ words

Richie was in detention again. He was a good student when it came to his studies, consistently got As, but he couldn’t always keep his mouth shut. He’d landed himself in detention many times and had phone calls and letters home to discuss his behavior. Given his grades, they never took any serious action, though he hated how disappointed his parents would be each time. He tried to change, but you can’t easily change a trashmouth.

Lately, it wasn’t his mouth that was getting him in trouble. For a while he’d found himself daydreaming more than normal. He wasn’t a stranger to frequent daydreams when class became boring or he was in a situation that triggered one. The subject of each daydream had been the same and, at first, they had worried him. After a while he realized what exactly was going on inside his head and he accepted it and gave into it. He was hesitant to actually do anything, so he just ran scenarios through his head.

The subject of the daydreams was none other than his best friend, Eddie Kaspbrak. He wasn’t exactly sure when he fell in love with him, but part of him thought he always had been. It just took him a while to realize it. Before he truly understood what he was feeling he thought it might be due to puberty and rampant teenage hormones. But he was sure of it, it was love. Slowly the fantasies became more frequent and to the point where he couldn’t control them anymore. He’d look across the classroom at Eddie and all he’d have to do was yawn and suddenly Richie was gone into his mind, sitting under the big tree in front of school with Eddie’s head on his lap while he napped.

Sometimes he didn’t even realize he had zoned out until something pulled him out of it again. A few times he thought that he’d actually confessed his love for Eddie only to realize it wasn’t real. Probably for the best. It was worrisome though. If he couldn’t differentiate fantasy from reality, surely, he’d make a fool of himself eventually. Still, he couldn’t help himself. Eddie was like sunlight and Richie was the idiot who kept staring into it. If he went blind from his brilliance it would be worth it. Except that he wouldn’t be able to stare at him any longer, he’d have to survive on memories of his smile. He knew that if he voiced these things to Eddie, he would think he was crazy.

Every time Richie told a joke and Eddie laughed beside him, it filled him with warmth. He loved it when he’d tell him to shut up or he’d scold him for what he said too. He loved every part of him and every interaction with him was perfect. So why wouldn’t he want to extend them in his mind? The Eddie in his fantasies always told him that he loved him too. He wasn’t sure it would go like that in real life. He didn’t even know if Eddie liked boys or girls or somewhere in between. Richie wasn’t sure if he himself like boys in general or if it was just Eddie because he was all he saw. He’d imagined what it was like to kiss him so many times, he thought he might actually know what it felt like.

They’d been in history, learning about some old white guy, when Richie found himself looking at Eddie for the hundredth time that day. They didn’t sit together. Richie wasn’t allowed to sit with any of his friends in class because he was known to talk during lessons. That didn’t stop them from passing notes to one another. So, when he saw Eddie intensely focused on his notebook, it was unlikely he was writing notes about the lessons and more likely he was writing something to one of their friends. Or maybe to Richie. Maybe it was a love note that he would sneak into his locker or backpack signed from a secret admirer. And so, the fantasy started.

In his head, Richie saw Eddie slipping notes into his things and him finding them. In the pages of his textbook, in his pocket, in his locker, on his desk at the start of class, even in his lunch bag. Richie would theorize who it was sending him secret love letters until he finally caught Eddie with his hand in his backpack. Eddie would be embarrassed and flustered. He’d speak at the speed only he was capable of and deny that he was leaving a note. He’d say that he saw it in there and wanted to see what it said. Richie would know better and he’d silence Eddie with a kiss.

Richie was just getting to the good part when a hand slapped down on his desk, startling him and snapping him back into reality. It was the fourth time that week he’d zoned out in that class and the fourth time he’d been caught. He was sent to the office and, after a long lecture about the importance of paying attention in class, he was given a detention. It sucked but it was nothing he wasn’t used to.

After school, his friends walked him to the classroom where detention was held, telling him where to meet them when he was free.

“Real friends would find a way to get out of the detention.” He said with a grin.

They all ignored him, Stan rolled his eyes and Beverly shoved him through the door. He flipped them off as they left him there before finding a seat near the front. He found that if he was diligent in doing his homework during detention, sometimes they’d let him out a little early. So, he always sat in the front of the room, so they’d notice how hard he was working. Mrs. Walsh was the teacher left to babysit them this time. They rotated who had to supervise detention. She barely paid attention to them and he was pretty sure she was playing a game on her phone.

Not wanting to pull out a bunch of stuff, he decided to do some reading for his English class. They were currently working their way through Shakespeare plays and Hamlet was burning a hole in his backpack.

He did a decent job of focusing on it for a about ten minutes, and then his eyes began to get tired. This wasn’t unusual. He just had to take a short break, look at anything other than the words crammed together on the pages. The classroom they were in was usually used for science classes and the back half of the room was big tables with stools pushed up the edge and sinks off to one side. Other than that, they were empty as all of the science equipment was kept in cupboards that lined either side of the room only broken up by the emergency shower and eyewash station. At least once a week someone snuck into the classroom and pulled the chain that activated the shower and made a mess in the classroom.

The other people in detention were passing the time in their own ways. One girl in the corner was drawing in a sketch pad and had a charcoal smudge on her cheek. There was a guy sleeping with his legs up on the desk in front of him and his head tilted back against the seat. It looked painful. A girl sitting two seats over had a textbook open and propped up against a pile of books behind it. From the front it looked like she was studying but from where Richie was sitting, he could see that she had her phone hidden and was watching 10 Things I Hate About You. A favorite amongst him and his friends.

He thought about the plot and wondered if they’d get to The Taming of the Shrew while they were on Shakespeare plays. He’d never actually read or seen the play that the movie was based on, but he’d seen the movie about a hundred times with his friends. His mind drifted to the scene where Patrick was in detention and Kat entered the classroom to break him out. It was one of their top favorite scenes in the movie and suddenly Richie wondered if any of his friends would actually do that for him. He’d joked about it before entering the room, but he couldn’t actually see any of them doing it. Maybe Bev. It was a silly and sweet thing for someone to do he thought. The person he’d want to see do it would be Eddie. After all, it was supposed to be a romantic thing when Kat did it.

Any hope Richie had in getting back to the play were out the window as a new fantasy took over. Almost as if he’d been expecting it, Eddie entered the classroom, earning the attention of everyone awake. He was mildly flustered at the attention being on him as he made his way to the front desk. Mrs. Walsh looked up at him in annoyance as she set her phone aside, screen facing down. Richie really did wonder what she did on her phone that was so engrossing. He’d figured it was games but maybe she was on tinder. She was a widow, maybe she was looking for new love or just someone to warm her bed. Richie immediately regretted having that thought though he’d have to tell his friends that line later.

“Mr. Kaspbrak, I don’t see your name on the detention list today.” She said, eyeing the list sitting on the desk.

“No, I’m not here for detention. I’m here for Richie.” Eddie said, looking back at Richie with a small smile.

“Mr. Tozier still has forty minutes before he can leave.”

“I understand but it’s an emergency. His cousin…broke his leg.”

“I’m sure it will still be broken in forty minutes.”

“I know it doesn’t sound like it’s urgent, but you see, Richie is the only one he trusts. He doesn’t like being touched. So, he’s been screaming and threatening the EMTs with rocks if they come near him. We need Richie to come and calm him down so they can get him to the hospital and get a cast on his leg. If we don’t hurry, he could realistically lose his leg.”

“Mr. Kaspbrak-.”

“It’s true! My mom knows a guy who broke his leg while riding a bike on a trail and there was no one else around and no cell service. He couldn’t even drag himself for help so he just sat there praying someone would come by. He sat there four hours before someone finally came and by the time they got him to the hospital, the bone had started to…rot! They had to amputate, and he hasn’t ridden a bike since. Do you want that to happen to little…Timmy??”

Richie was biting his lip to keep from laughing as he watched Mrs. Walsh’s face go from mildly annoyed to extremely frustrated. She likely wasn’t believing a word coming from Eddie’s mouth, but she also didn’t want to deal with this any longer. Besides, this was Richie’s fantasy and he could make anything happen.

“Fine. Go attend to your cousin but I expect a letter from your mother by tomorrow.” She said, picking her phone back up.

“Yes ma’am!” Richie stood and grabbed his backpack, shoving Hamlet back into the open pocket.

He followed Eddie out into the hall and managed to hold his laughter until they were a good distance away. Eddie was smiling widely in a way that made Richie’s heart skip a beat. He just wanted to grab him and kiss him. But he would get to that later. He had plenty of time to enjoy the build up to it. He waited until they were outside to say anything.

“I thought you left with the others.” Richie said.

“I stayed behind to break you out. It took me a while to come up with an excuse though.” Eddie chuckled.

“It was a beautiful one. Hopefully little Timmy will be ok now that his favorite cousin is on his way.”

“Shut up, it was a good lie.”

Richie slung his arm around Eddie’s shoulders as they walked. The others would be at Bill’s house. He’d gotten a new multi-player video game they were all wanting to try. It was the first day since he’d gotten it that both of his parents would be out of the house so they could be as loud as they wanted without reprimand. Of course, Richie was in no rush to fantasize about what was actually going to come when he did get out of detention. He wanted to focus on Eddie.

“You’re my hero.” Richie said, squeezing his shoulder lightly.

“Does that make you the damsel in distress?” Eddie asked.

“Absolutely. I was debating growing my hair out or losing a shoe. But this works too.”

“You’re so dumb.” Despite his words, Eddie was smiling.

Richie didn’t know how much longer he had and all he could think about was kissing him. Even if it was pretend. They’d cut through the park, which was mostly empty this time of day, and the shade from trees set a mood with the sun poking through between the leaves above them. With no witnesses, his mind had created the perfect scene for a kiss with the object of his affection. Pulling Eddie to a stop with him, Richie dropped his bag in the dirt and, cupping his face with one hand, he leaned in and kissed him. It was an innocent kiss. More innocent than they typically were but he was in detention and didn’t want to draw attention to himself.

He’d imagined kissing Eddie so many times, basing it on the spin the bottle kiss he’d had a year prior at a birthday party. It was always the same in every fantasy, but this time was different. His lips were always pillowy and silky in his mind, but this time they were a little chapped yet still wonderful. Eddie always kissed him back immediately in his daydreams, this time he didn’t. When Richie pulled away, he looked shocked, his face and ears red.

“What…why…did you kiss me?” Eddie asked.

“Because I love you.” Richie had said those words more times than he could count while pretending. This time the weight of words felt heavy on his shoulders. Everything was different. Too different. Richie closed his eyes and tried to wake himself from the fantasy, but when he opened his eyes again, he was still standing in the park with Eddie. He knew that he’d been having trouble differentiating his daydreams from reality, but he never thought it was this bad. Bad enough to actually confess his love thinking it was just in his head.

Richie took in the still shocked face of the other boy and his heart began to pound in his chest. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, and he had to scramble for an excuse. “Fuck…hey Eds I was kidding. Don’t worry about it. Let’s go to Bill’s ok?” He picked his bag back up and slung it over his shoulder.

“You were kidding? What the fuck, Richie!” Eddie yelled, making no move to follow him. “I’m going home.”

Richie turned then, expecting to see Eddie’s angry face red and narrowed eyebrows. Instead, he was met with tears. At first, he wasn’t sure he’d seen them, but when one broke free and slid down his cheek, he was sure. He was crying. Why was he crying?

“Eds…I’m sorry. It was a dumb joke. You don’t have to cry about it.” Richie tried to laugh but he felt his heart breaking for a multitude of reasons.

“I thought you were serious! I should have known better. You may think everything you do is funny but playing with someone’s emotions isn’t! Did Stan tell you about my feelings? Is that why you did this?”

“Feelings? Stan hasn’t told me anything.”

“Don’t lie to me. Why else would you do that?”

Richie wasn’t stupid. He always got good grades and studying was easy for him. He’d learned to read between the lines and was able to understand people even when they weren’t speaking plainly. So, it didn’t take more than a second for him to understand what Eddie was saying. He loved Richie. Or at least liked him as more than a friend. He was so stupid for not noticing before. He’d always thought he was just looking too far into little things, hoping to find proof that he felt the same way. Now he knew he wasn’t.

“Eddie, I love you. I lied. It wasn’t a joke. I love you so much that I can’t stop thinking about you. I kissed you without thinking and panicked. Please don’t cry.” Richie had dropped his bag once more and was pulling Eddie into a tight hug against his chest.

“Are you lying?” Eddie sniffled.

“No. I swear. I’ve thought about telling you and kissing you so many times it’s criminal.”

Eddie chuckled a bit, his arms coming back around his middle, squeezing him back. One day Richie would tell him the truth about the fantasies and the mistake, but now wasn’t the time. He just wanted to hold him in his arms and maybe kiss him again and again until they got sick of it. As if that was possible.

After coming to an agreement, Richie sent a text to Bill informing him that he and Eddie would not be joining them at his place that afternoon. Instead, they would be going to Richie’s basement where they would be left alone and could talk about their newly found feelings for one another. And kiss. He couldn’t’ forget about the kissing. He’d thought about it so much, now that he could actually do it, Richie wasn’t about to let a second pass when he could be kissing Eddie Kaspbrak. The daydreams wouldn’t stop there, he’d just get to tell Eddie about them afterward and learn of the daydreams he had as well.

[aaymeirah-writes]

Angels & Demons & Slugs

(Written as a gift fic on ao3 for thehedonistspurge as part of the good omens summer gift exchange)

Summary: A fun little fic told from Warlock Dowling’s POV as he tries to understand the peculiar relationship between Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis. Ft. a slug infestation. 

-

Sometimes, it was like living with an angel and a demon on his shoulder. Warlock knew about this concept because Brother Francis made him read a book that had old illustrations of very unrealistic angels and demons whispering into people’s ears. Not that he really knew what angels and demons looked like, but what use are wings if they aren't even attached to your body? Stupid adults.

The book talked about the angel counseling good, and the demon counseling bad, always fighting for dominance. This was exactly like Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis. Case in point; yesterday Brother Francis told him he should ignore those stupid kids mom made him visit who taunted him for still having a Nanny at nine years old while Nanny Ashtoreth grew angry and helped him devise a plan of revenge involving silly string, a few paperclips, and a leaf-blower.  

There was a problem with this theory of his though. The angel and the demon were supposed to hate each other. And while Nanny and Brother Francis sniped at each other, they never actually acted like they hated each other. Warlock knew this because he hated schoolwork, and he did anything to avoid it. On the other hand, Nanny and Brother Francis,were always glancing at each other and whispering when they thought he couldn’t see. C’mon, he was nine, not stupid!  

However, the strangest proof to his theory was that Brother Francis always seemed to say the exact opposite of what Nanny Ashtoreth told him and Nanny Ashtoreth did the same. They never even had a real chance to talk to each other, because they were both busy during the day and Warlock knew that everybody went to bed at 9 pm. He did. It was only fair.  

Maybe all gardeners and Nannies were like this.  

“Watch out for that slug my boy,” Brother Francis put a hand on his shoulder, which caused him to pull up short, break out of his musings and look with disgust at the slimy creature that was just about to be crushed under his boot.  

“Ew.”

“We must love all God’s creatures. Yes, even the ones whose outward appearance is off-putting.”

“But slugs are pests!”

“That doesn’t mean we have to kill them. Besides, you’ll get your boot all covered in guts.”

“Whatever,” Warlock muttered, continuing to walk beside Brother Francis as they toured the gardens he knew so well.

“Here is another slug. See? It’s only eating the leaf, not harming you at all,” Brother Francis smiled toothily at Warlock. Warlock decided to give him his best sullen glare. For all that Brother Francis seemed to fulfill the angelic role, he didn’t seem to trust that Warlock wouldn’t just ignore the gross and slimy thing like an angel who was supposed to see the best in people should.  

-

“School is canceled for the day,” said Nanny Ashtoreth as she swept into the room in a swirl of black skirts. Warlock looked up from the paper he was happily drawing army tanks on, the kind he imagined his Dad used when he went into the dangerous territory of something called troubled political waters. Warlock didn’t exactly know what that meant, but he did know that it sounded really cool.  

“Why?” Warlock asked.

“We are going on a slug extermination mission. Time to get rid of those blighters,” Nanny said.

“But Brother Francis said to leave them alone, they aren’t hurting anybody,”

“Anybody being the keyword. The slugs are hurting the plants,” Nanny scowled, “Brother Francis is sometimes too nice for his own good. I’m tired of seeing that slug infestation destroy the perfectly lovely gardens out there. So come on, put on your jacket.” When Warlock continued to sit there staring at her, she sighed.  

“Or would you rather stay inside and do schoolwork?” Nanny had Warlock there.

“So, how do we kill them?” Warlock asked Nanny with interest as she led the way to the big kitchen.

“We’re going to create and set out slug removal traps, and if you see any slugs, you’ll spray them with a special slug killing solution,” Nanny replied, smiling at Warlock from behind her glasses.  

“Awesome.”

As Warlock watched Nanny commandeer the kitchen to put together saucers and containers of cornmeal or milk or beer, he decided that she looked to be filled with demonic glee. This was another example of suspiciously going directly against Brother Francis’s counsels. Maybe this was their version of fighting- through battling over slugs.  

“Warlock, get me the mister bottles,” Nanny said as she took a generous swig from the beer bottle before grimacing and glaring at it. He got up and found two nice blue-green ones.

“Will these ones work?” he asked. Nanny Ashtoreth glared at him.

“Warlock, you’re the Antichrist. Believe they will work and they will.”  Warlock looked at the bottles in his hands.  

“They do work?” To demonstrate he sprayed the one that had a small amount of tepid water in it.

“Just give me them little-demon child,” Nanny said with exasperation, somewhat ruining the effect by ruffling his hair at the same time.  

“Hey! Not the hair,” Warlock groaned.

-

“15 slugs for me!” Warlock crowed, holding up a dead one just sprayed with the ammonia mixture from his gloved hands. This was so much more fun than school!

“I’m taking the long way around by planting these traps,” Nany said as a pitiful excuse for only having killed one.

“Hey! Another one.” Warlock tossed the dead slug into the bucket and lunged to spray it. He missed and fell face-first into the dirt. Ow. This was gross. He raised his head to see a pair of muddy boots belonging to Brother Francis. Now it was embarrassing as well.

“Are you alright my boy?” he asked kindly, offering a hand to pull him up. Warlock scowled, he didn’t need any help!

“Yes. I’m fine,” brushing himself off, Warlock turned to see Nanny Ashtoreth watching him, holding a cup of beer and a shovel in the other hand, genuine smile on her face. For him or for  Brother Francis? He turned quickly to see Brother Francis looking at Nanny Ashtoreth, not at him in sympathy as he should be.

“What are you two doing in my garden?” Brother Francis asked curiously. Nanny drew herself up to address the hunched over gardener.

“Saving your garden from destruction by slug.”

“You’re killing them?” yelped Brother Francis.  

“Gotta make sure the pests don’t come back. It’s for the good of the plants.”

“So to save one thing, you’re killing another?” Brother Francis demanded. Not with anger as Warlock thought he would have, it was his garden after all, but with interest in Nanny Ashtoreth’s motivations.  

“You were the one who let the situation develop enough that hard choices had to be made.”

“So it’s my fault?”

“It’s nobody's really, but the slug infestation is a problem that needs to be dealt with.” Nanny lifted an eyebrow as she continued to stare at Brother Francis, ignoring Warlock and the new slug he had just severed with the metal head of the garden shovel.  

“I suppose I can see that.”

“You suppose! Angel I don’t-”

“Can we go inside now Nanny? My feet are all slimey,” Warlock whined. These two were spending entirely too much time in some weird unspoken conversation. Time they should be spending paying attention to him and all the slugs he had killed!  

“Of course dear,” Nanny sighed. “Brother Francis, I’ll leave the supplies here. Of course you must deal with things as you see fit, since you are the gardener”

“That sounds.. good,” Brother Francis looked disappointed for a moment before he smiled at Warlock.

“Have fun, my boy.” Warlock snorted. He was dirty and cold, killing slugs had lost its’ appeal and now he was even more confused about Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis.

“With what?”

“Life. The world. It won’t be around forever you know,” Brother Francis replied as he picked up the basket full of slug traps, “unless you do something about it.”  

“Okay,” shrugged Warlock “have fun with the slugs I guess.”  

“I- will.” Brother Francis said, managing to look only mildly disgusted with the brown creatures that had already congregated at a milk saucer by his feet.

-

His train-themed alarm clock said 11 pm when Warlock woke up from a deep sleep because of a sudden draft of cold air. Blearily looking around him, he saw that the window had blown open. Darn. Getting out of bed, Warlock decided to try to close it himself. After all, he was nine. He didn’t need his Nanny for every little thing. He took a moment to look out the window, then took another when he saw two familiar figures standing just beneath it talking quietly. A secret meeting, awesome! The thought that maybe Nanny had lied to him about everyone going to sleep at the same time came to him suddenly. But then again...this was the perfect time to practice his cool eavesdropping skills.

“Angel...I’ll just....oh thank you, my dear boy...miracle...slugs are little blighters...not my favorite of Her creations...actually, I think...Gabriel, really?” Disjointed words from Brother Francis and Nanny Ashtoreth reached his ears then fell away as the two moved away from under the window and onto the path to Brother Francis’s cottage. Warlock yawned as he strained his ears to catch more. Nothing. There was really no point in listening further. He carefully closed the window and got back into bed.

As he drifted off to sleep, Warlock decided that even if Nanny called Brother Francis angel, even if they wanted him to do opposite things, even if they didn’t really seem to hate each other and quite rudely communicated silently over his head, he still liked them both. After all, the few other kids he’d played with didn’t have someone cool enough to help plan awesome revenge or someone nice enough to listen to him and never intentionally make him feel stupid. Maybe his theory was right after all.

Sleep claimed Warlock and he smiled as the musings were cast aside in favor of a dream of silly stringed revenge, crushed slugs and the comforting presence of an angel and a demon on his shoulders.

[swimmingwolf59]

Still Life of Hands

Being an art student, one would think Ronan would be used to half-naked models by now.

Usually, he is. His figure drawing class brings in a new model every time they meet twice a week, though sometimes they bring back old models if the class is particularly inspired by them. The models are everywhere from female to male to non-binary, and Ronan had thought he’d seen it all. Of course he’s attracted to the male models if they have nice bodies, but usually it’s just a thought. He’ll look up from his notebook, appreciate their body for a second, and then start sketching their muscles, zoning out as he lets his pencil or charcoal do the rest. If Ronan thinks about them outside of his artwork besides that, it’s usually because he feels sorry for them having to sit in weird ass poses requested by the class for what must be two painfully long hours. He looks at them as a project to tackle more than anything else. He doesn’t feel flustered around any of them. He definitely doesn’t raise his hand and request a pose.

So why the hell is he doing that now?

His professor looks surprised – of course she is. Ronan has hardly even spoken in this class, let alone raised his hand. A small smile soon adorns her face however, she has always supported Ronan for whatever reason, and nods in his direction. “Yes, Ronan – go ahead.”

Ronan looks back at their new model and abruptly forgets how to speak.

He doesn’t know if all of the models before him were just shitty or what, but Ronan swears he has never seen a more beautiful human being in his entire life. He has short, dusty hair that falls across his head in what can’t be described as anything but a mess, but it’s a beautiful mess, like fucking movie star hair perfectly tousled by the wind. He has ocean blue eyes that seem to pierce right through him when he turns to look at him, and the utterly bored look on his face just makes Ronan ache more. His face is dotted with thousands of freckles, Ronan would love for an opportunity to count all of them, and his figure is tall and thin. But the part about him that completely floors Ronan is his hands – oh God his hands. They’re boyishly big, jutting out from his slender wrists and supporting large knuckles and long fingers. His hands look like he’s been working hard all of his life and Ronan can’t stop staring at them. He wants to kiss those hands – he wants to feel those hands all over his body.

He has never reacted this strongly to a model before. Ever.  

No matter where he looks Ronan feels like he’s going to explode. Oh, and did he mention that the guy’s shirt is off? Ronan can’t even begin to describe what the sight of that scarred and muscled chest is doing to him.

“Ronan?” Professor Kawalski’s concerned voice somehow penetrates into his brain, and he realizes with a start that he’s been staring at the model like a love-struck fool for who knows how long instead of requesting his pose.

Cheeks dusting pink with embarrassment, Ronan looks at his notebook in an attempt to escape and clears his throat. “Uh, yeah – could you…”

And he directs the model through the motions. He has the model—Adam, his brain supplies him unhelpfully—sit with his back facing the class, leaning back on his hands. His legs are stretched out in front of him and he tilts his head over his shoulder, looking like someone has just called for his attention. Ronan wants it like that, to seem like they stumbled upon a scene of Adam’s life rather than making it obvious it’s just a figure drawing. And while he laments that he won’t be able to stare at his chest through the whole drawing—someone else will surely request that anyway—he wants, needs, Adam’s hands to be the foreground of the picture.

It wouldn’t be right otherwise.

Once Adam settles into position, his eyes lock with Ronan’s. “Is this right?”

Ronan struggles to swallow through his suddenly dry throat. “Yeah. Perfect.”

The class settles down then to get started on their sketches. Ronan finds that Adam’s shape comes to him effortlessly, little details he’d never bothered to identify on other models popping out at him every time he looks up. It’s a wonder he gets anything done at all, actually, because every time he glances up and stares for just a bit too long, Adam catches him and stares back with what looks like a smirk on his face. Ronan wants to hate him for it, but he loves it instead and he slowly loses his mind as he drowns himself in everything Adam Adam Adam.

He finds himself adding the smirk on when he gets to his face; it improves the casualness of the pose, he thinks. It looks like Adam was relaxing, and then turned to smirk at someone who just told a dirty joke. Or at least, that’s the scene Ronan is imagining in his head.

While most of the figure itself doesn’t take him too long, Ronan gets caught up in the features that he can’t stop staring at in real life, too. He spends about half an hour just getting his freckles right, dotting them all around his face and on his shoulders. He’s absolutely in love with the freckles on his shoulders. The last hour he spends entirely on Adam’s hands. He draws them with care and affection, adding in every detail he can see. Maybe it’s just an excuse to stare at Adam’s hands (it definitely is), but Ronan’s proud of how it turns out. If someone looked close enough at his drawing, they could see the freckles on Adam’s fingers, the way his large knuckles jut out and give structure to his hand and fingers, that tiny little scar he has on the back of his hand.  

He’s paying more attention to detail than he ever has before. While his classmates request different poses throughout the two hours, Ronan just focuses on his original pose for Adam, using the new poses to add details to it that he couldn’t see before. As he brushes in the way Adam’s hair lazily sprawls along his forehead he wonders what it would be like to draw his fingers through it, if it’s as soft as it looks.

He wonders if he may be idolizing Adam just a bit too much.

“Alright, pencils down!” Kawalski calls, startling Ronan so badly he literally drops his pencil on the ground. Noah, the guy who has sat next to him all semester, snickers at him. Ronan flips him the bird. “Let’s all thank Adam for his patience with us today!”

Adam looks utterly embarrassed as the room is filled with light applause. Ronan wonders if he’s new at modeling or if he’s just like this every time. He wonders which one is more endearing.

As Ronan carefully tucks his notebook into his bag and shoves away all of his pencils and erasers, he wonders if it would be too strange to request Adam back again. Ronan believes he can’t be the only person who was so enthralled with him, so surely the class would back him up if he did…

“Um, hey, Ronan, was it?” a voice says from behind him. When Ronan turns, scowl already sitting habitually on his face, he nearly has a heart attack.

Adam is standing there, right in front of him, within touching distance. Ronan illogically has the urge to pull away, suddenly flustered, but then he realizes: Adam is standing there. Right in front of him. He has a ratty old Coca-Cola shirt on now, Ronan realizes sadly as he stares at Adam like he’s an apparition.

Holy fuck.

“Uh?” he says intelligently. He has no grasp of what Adam could possibly want to say to him – how does he even talk to this boy? He can’t very well tell him he’s enjoyed staring at him and imagining him in mildly erotic situations for the last two hours, though that is the truth. Ronan doesn’t lie. He just smartly doesn’t say everything that runs through his head.

“Sorry if this is weird,” Adam says, luckily filling in the conversation for where Ronan failed. “I just…I just really liked the pose you gave me, and I was wondering…if I could see it?”

For a moment, Ronan just stares at him. His immediate reaction is no holy hell Adam can’t see it! Ronan had bared his heart on that damn paper, in that damn sketch, for this damn boy. Just the thought of how Adam would react to seeing Ronan’s attraction and affection puked onto his notebook horrifies Ronan.

And yet, against every instinct and nerve screaming in his body, he pulls his notebook back out of his bag and hands it to Adam. “It’s the one in the back,” he says uselessly, not knowing what else to say. Anything else is too terrifying to bring to life.

Watching Adam flip to the correct page and just stare at his drawing is the most painful thing Ronan has ever experienced in his entire life. And he’s been through hell and back. It’s almost worse that he can’t tell what Adam think is thinking through his expression – it’s irritatingly blank, except for a spark of surprise in his eyes.

“I…I don’t know what to say,” Adam eventually murmurs, and to Ronan’s horror starts flipping through the rest of his notebook.

Shame, embarrassment, and the familiar self-hatred flares to life as one big ball of anger in Ronan’s chest, and he digs his fingernails into his palms to stop himself from lashing out. Gansey and his counselor have helped him get better about non-violent ways to unleash his anger, grief, and other intense emotions—it’s why he got into art in the first place—but having his heart exposed and crushed like this is worse than anything he’s felt recently. Dammit, this is why he had closed up to people after his dad died!

“Sorry it’s so shitty,” Ronan growls, hurt leaking like venom into his voice despite his best efforts. He reaches to grab his notebook back, but Adam quickly tucks it into his chest, like he’s protecting it. Ronan just blinks at him in surprise.

“No, no, it’s not bad, god how could this be—” Adam, seeming to realize that Ronan has no idea what the fuck he’s trying to say, pauses to take a deep breath before staring directly at Ronan and saying, “I didn’t mean to imply that. It’s just that no one’s ever drawn me so, so…beautifully before. Like, you draw me like I’m worth something, like I’m…lovable.”

Ronan doesn’t know what to think – he doesn’t know how to react. On the one hand, he kind of wants to throw his fist into whatever or whoever made Adam feel like he’s worthless and unlovable. On the other hand, Adam, beautiful, freckled Adam just gave Ronan’s sketch the highest possible compliment. On the third hand—you don’t have three hands, Ronan’s brain supplies unhelpfully—Adam apparently saw right through his sketch and to the deepest part of Ronan’s soul.

Ronan’s love for Adam is tangible enough for Adam to notice, and that is the most terrifying thing he has ever heard in his life.

He feels like he needs to blow something up. Set something on fire. Instead he brings his arm up to chew on his leather bands and, pointedly not looking at Adam, says, “I’m just drawing what I see.”

It’s apparently the right thing to say, as Adam’s entire face brightens into a large smile. Ronan passionately wishes he had his notebook back, so he could draw it. “Wow, that’s um…wow. Do you…do you want to go out for coffee sometime?”

If Ronan wasn’t so surprised already, that would’ve sent him falling right off his stool. He’s so in shock that for a moment he’s convinced Adam is messing with him. Why would he have any reason to want to take some crazy artist on a date—oh God—especially one who had just drawn him like he was the most beautiful thing in the entire world? It sounds rather creepy, to Ronan. Against the aching want in his chest, he complains weakly, “You don’t even know me.”

That doesn’t seem to deter Adam in the slightest. “I’d like to.”

Ronan blushes at that, feeling warm and excited and giddy. It’s been a long time since someone has wanted to climb through his spiny walls and get to know him. He hadn’t realized it until now, but maybe he’s been waiting all this time for someone to want to. He can’t help but smile. “If I agree, can I sketch you again?”

Adam tips his head back and laughs, and Ronan wants to sketch him. Again. Jesus, he’s just found his motivation for his next one thousand art projects. Maybe more than that. He wonders if Adam will laugh for him again. If he’ll let him caress his hands.

Dear God.

“Sure, I’ll even let you pick the pose again, since it’s obviously been your goal all along,” Adam teases, grinning and leaning forward to whisper in Ronan’s ear, “I also do full nudes, if you’re interested.”

Ronan’s spine nearly snaps he sits up straight so hard, blood rushing to both poles making him abruptly dizzy. Holy fuck.

“Jesus,” he breathes, embarrassed when Adam pulls back with a snicker. Suddenly he leaps to his feet and practically throws his phone into Adam’s free hand, babbling in a flustered way he didn’t even know possessed him, “Okay listen, fuck, here’s my phone, just put your number in or something and I’ll…I’ll text you. Actually, I hate my phone, so maybe you should text me. I might not reply, but I’ll come whenever and wherever you want to meet – I literally don’t do anything. I just sit in my room and sketch. That’s it. Sometimes my friend Dick bothers me.”

Jesus. He might as well have thrown an I love you somewhere in there.

To his surprise and relief, though, Adam doesn’t seem overwhelmed – if anything, he finds the whole situation amusing, if his wry smirk is anything to go by. Ronan badly wants to kiss him. Fuck this is a mess.

He watches as Adam plugs his contact info into Ronan’s phone before handing it back to him. Then he just stares at him, an eyebrow raised. It takes a few awkward moments of getting lost in Adam’s eyes and knowing absolutely nothing about phone etiquette for Ronan to realize he’s waiting for Ronan to text him so that he’ll have his contact info, too. Feeling like a blundering idiot, Ronan texts him a simple message—guess who—before pocketing his phone again, relieved to get it out of his hands.

Adam pulls out his own phone as he gets the message, and the small smile on his face is worth every moment of suffering in Ronan’s life to get to this point. He spends a few moments editing the info before also pocketing his phone and sending that smile at Ronan. Ronan forgets how to breathe. “Great. You know, I’m actually free now – do you wanna get lunch? There’s a great pizza place not far from campus.”

Ronan would run through hell and back for this boy. Again. But he tries to regain some sense of his pride and integrity, so he leans back at his whole height and says nonchalantly, “Fine. Only if you let me drive.”

“Deal.” Adam smiles widely before flipping to another page in Ronan’s notebook and showing it to him. “But first, tell me about this raven.”