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chiwhorei · 3 years

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𝐀𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐚

✞𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬: 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐥��𝐜 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧✞

Pairing: Shouta Aizawa x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut, Dark Content, 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 3,175 [Link to Ao3]

Tags: Darkfic, sacrelige, coercion, corruption, dubcon and noncon elements, intonations and parallels to incest, but not actual incest (ie. ‘Father’ Shouta), choking, age-gap, oral, Priest!Aizawa, Virgin!Reader

From Chiwhorei: Aizawa is where this all started, so it’s fitting he is the subject of my anniversary fic. To everyone who’s followed me along this journey despite the long bouts of radio silence, to everyone that’s participated and supported this collab, to all of my lovely, devious friends— truly, completely, thank you for this past year. Xoxo.

The pain was so sharp that it made me utter several moans; and so excessive was the sweetness caused me by this intense pain that one can never wish to lose it, nor will one’s soul be content with anything less than God.

** ** **

There’s not a soul awake this late.

The rosary wrapped between twitching fingers feels like a hot lashing against the skin. The glass and metal itch in your hold, the devotional was a gift for your confirmation-- it holds a decade of sins.

Your family has been asleep for hours now. Slipping through the back door as soon as you’re sure. Nineteen. A legal adult. Yet the only way to leave in the middle of the night is in secret. The cool, summer air hits your cheeks, it’s still for a moment. It’s so quiet, you feel like you’ve mistaken the real world for a snow globe. Static— in the moments after all of the glitter settles, all of the quiet, iridescent tears laying at your feet. It waits, patiently, until someone comes by to shake it again.

Moving into a cramped dorm room a few hours away, your childhood home feels bigger every visit. It’s bigger because nothing fills the space inside. There’s nothing but tense words and the clatter of silverware against dinner plates. Your father reminds you of an old briefcase— stern, rigid leather, unmistakably empty; your mother’s rose garden smells like poisoned wine.

Roses and leather, the combination suffocating enough to repel you in the hours you should be unconscious.

The walk from your parent’s house to the church is the most familiar thing in the world. Down to the cracks on the sidewalk and mossy steps leading up to a set of large, cherry doors. So routine it almost feels good for you.

There’s not a soul awake this late, you decide, that must be why you’re here.

That must be why he’s up too.

Pushing open one ornate door just enough to peek inside, you’re met with that distinct waft of incense and dusty missals. It smells like every Sunday morning and Easter Vigil, it smells like home.

Only votive candles light the space around you, flickering with intentions from fellow parishioners. You wonder if there’s one burning for you.

You know where to find Father Shouta, and suspect he’s waiting. He can trace every step from your parents home to the front gate. You open the confessional booth and crawl inside, the wooden space around you is cramped. It smells like incense masking cigarettes. Kneeling into the leather cushion, you face the screen partition.

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was,” the memory has you falter, “three months ago.”

You remember the last hollow confession like it was yesterday. You were back in town for spring break. After mass that Sunday, your dad told Father Shouta how deplorable it was that your friends had tried, in vain, to drag you to the beach a few hours away from campus. “A week of drinking and sex, not for my daughter.”

Shouta met with you that evening and you cried your sins to him. How you had been dared to kiss boys at a party during midterms week, how you drank who-knows-what mixed with cheap beer at a frat house. He consoled you then, he told you that God will forgive all transgressions. “Even the sins of a whore.”

The memory makes you want to cry all over again. Yet, here you are— knees pressed to the very same leather, face against the same dusty screen.

He’s so still, so quiet, you jump out of your skin at the sound of his voice, “What is it that you’d like to confess, my child?”

Your body aches, stiff and tense to the bone. You breathe in, shallow and suffocated, before you speak again.

“Father, forgive me I—” you can tell his posture is just as rigid, he’s only a shadowed outline and the slightest glimmer of color from his eyes. They warn you, but you ignore the familiar feeling on the back of your neck.

“I have been having impure thoughts. I’ve been thinking about a man,” one more deep breath in an attempt to keep your voice neutral, “a much older man.”

If you could hear a smile, Father’s creaks like floorboards.

His silence prompts you to continue, you knot your fingers together and hold them against your stomach, the Rosary tangled in between threatening to cut off circulation.

“The boys in my youth group, the ones in my classes— they’re all nice but,” you leave the second half of the sentence to rattle around in your mind, “but they aren’t you.”

“Impure thoughts are one thing, sinful, but,” his voice is indifferent, cold, “the true sins are ones of the flesh.”

“I- I haven’t,” you start to stutter, trying to defend yourself, “I haven’t done anything, Father.”

Despite himself, he laughs.

“It’s true Father,” you wonder why you hadn’t just stayed at home, “I’ve only ever kissed a boy— it wasn’t even a real kiss. I’m still a virgin.”

From the screen, you can only see him in fragments. Little cutouts of a dark figure and sickeningly bright red eyes. The color peaks through like pieces of a puzzle, chasing through the patterned wood before you can catch that he’s stepping out of his side of the confessional booth.

“It wasn’t a ‘real’ kiss,” each word is mimicked, emphasized by the tap of his shoes against the tiles below, “no, of course it wasn’t. Not with some boy.” Your legs are unsteady as you stand from the kneeler. There’s nowhere to hide, Father has you trapped in a toy box. Just for him to play with.

“Of course that wouldn’t have satisfied you.”

The door to your side of the booth creeks open just as your back hits the wall. You can see his face for the first time in months, you trace the features illuminated with candlelight. Father Shouta’s face is strong, even more sharp with his long, black hair tied back. His presence looms over where you’re sunken into the booth. Even standing and puffing out your chest, he’ll still be able to look down at you.

He bares his teeth. You know this by now, stupid little girl, you know he likes to play with his food.

Long fingers grip the small door frame and curl around the wood like an omen, his body slithers into your personal space until he’s only an inch away.

“Lust, greed, what is it that you want?” Each vowel cradles a hearty dose of poison, the consonants bite away and spit you out. Your skin feels raw under his attention, “You can’t atone for sins you’re not really sorry for.”

Those same fingers slide up either curve of your neck, he crawls from shoulder to jaw, slowly. So slowly it seems like he’s trying not to get caught. He holds steady against your skin, thumb rubbing lightly at your bottom lip. You must have just fallen asleep after your parents went to bed, that stale, poisoned house even lulling the restless. You must be dreaming right now.

“Don’t make me ask again.” His timber hits the three walls and brings you back to the present. There’s no rest for you, only a weak answer to his question. What is it that you want?

“I want to be a humble servant of our Lord.” Your voice shakes, battered against your throat on its way to meet the stiff air.

Father’s lips are on you, he traces the words of Luke over your trembling mouth, there’s only a breath of space between you,

“No one can serve two masters. For you will hate one and love the other; you will be devoted to one and despise the other,”

The hands holding your cheeks move down to circle your neck, each long finger lays a trap. He tightens around the skin, just enough to make you forget how it feels to breathe freely. He could do anything to you right now, and your cries for help would be swallowed by stained glass.

No one can serve two masters.

The scream caught in your throat meets his wicked smile, it fizzles into little more than a whimper. The small booth you’ve been trapped in is burning hot, you feel sweat beading on your forehead. The last ounce of courage, of restraint, tumbles out before you can catch it.

“Who do you serve, Father Shouta? God or the Devil?”

He answers you with a thick tongue finally pushing into your mouth. He smells like perfumed oils and votive candles, he tastes like sugar free gum and Seven Stars.

His grip around your neck is the only thing keeping you on your feet, you’re sure if he were to let go you’d melt into the floor below. Father’s lips against yours are a siren, dulling all other senses, rendering you malleable to his will. Whatever his will may be, whatever it is that he wants from you— you’d let him have it anyway.

He breaks away, the kiss that’s felt like hours disappears far too soon. Your body jolts forward of its own volition, trying to connect yourself to him again. You’re sure you look desperate, but you’re too intoxicated to care.

“I serve only myself.”

Father lets go of your neck and you’re allowed the first deep intake of breath you’ve had since walking into the church. You swallow hard, looking back up to him. He scares you, he always has, but that fear draws you towards him.

Does a moth know what the flame will do to it? Does the moth know their fate?

You feel like crying, really crying, but all that comes out are a few frustrated tears. Father leans over you once more, eyes trailing the tear waxing over your cheek, “You’re a wretched little girl.”

Is that why they fly towards fire, because they like the burn?

** ** **

You step forward in line, it’s almost your turn. Mother first, she’s always thought of Father Aizawa as such a “charming young man''. The notion always made you scoff, in reality he’s only a few years younger than your parents.

Your dad is behind you, he’ll give him a friendly handshake after the service and remark how beautiful the homily was. Today, he spoke of the devil tempting Jesus. You hung on every word.

Mother steps aside and makes the sign of the cross, you’re next. A sheep guided by the dutiful shepherd, a lamb onto his slaughter.

Your chin tilts upwards, eyes locked onto your part-time captor. He only has you for a few seconds this time, but his attention is a hallway— every door is a pitfall. Aizawa’s gaze turns red when he looks upon you again— a bright, bloody, captivating red. You’ve convinced yourself it’s a trick of the light. But you see them in the dark too.

“The Body of Christ,” his voice is a welcome mat in front of an asylum, holding out the wafer and obscuring one painfully beautiful eye.

“Amen.” You know you’re part, but you can’t hear your own voice.

Father watches as your eyes close and your mouth opens, a quiet obedience, nothing at all out of the ordinary. Your fingers tingle with how tight you’re holding them together.

He places the Body to your awaiting tongue. It tastes like a harsh nothing that will stick to the back of your throat for the rest of mass. You take Christ in pieces, letting it start to melt into the roof of your mouth.

Shouta brushes your bottom lip before retracting. It’s subtle, an accident— the smallest touch of chilling skin. No one notices, the earth doesn’t stop on its axis for anyone else. You step aside and follow your Mother back to the wooden pews like nothing out of the ordinary stirs in your heart.

You feel Father’s eyes on the back of your skirt. They feel red.

“Your sweet girl here has offered a helping hand getting prepared for a youth retreat the church is hosting next week.” After mass, the stop to shake Father’s hand is inevitable, a pleasantry every parishioner makes time for before shuffling out for Sunday brunch.

He speaks over your quiet, “Good morning, Father Shouta,” right as your family turns to leave, almost as if he had been mulling over whether or not it was worth a mention. He regards them with a veiled casualty, never once looking at you.

Father’s face is kind when he wants it to be, laying a hand in the middle of your shoulder blades, it's a feeling of comfort you can’t help but lean into, “We’re discussing how to remain chaste in a sinful world.”

The word ‘chaste’ is pinched into your spine and despite yourself, you smile. A heavy heart has found home at the bottom of your stomach, but you can’t let on to the sick churning in your gut. Your parents gleam with pride for their daughter. A perfect example of a good Catholic girl.

“I’ll have her meet at my office this evening, is six okay?” His question sounds like your dowry, talking past you and asking for your parents permission.

Your dad shakes Father Shout’s hand once more, delighted at how his diligent parenting must be the reason you’ve found yourself in holy favor. Said ‘parenting’ is definitely to blame, but not in the way your dad assumes.

*** *** ***

The walk through church and into the sacristy is like a meditation in fear, every step begging you to turn back, to run home like a scared child. You tread steady, feet searing on hot coals until you’re met with the sound of Father Shouta just beyond the threshold.

“You’re late.” Something sinister fills Father’s quarters as soon as you open the door. It’s scary how offhandedly he can lie. You’re at least ten minutes early, the evening toll of church bells will signal the hour. He wants to see if you’ll stutter, if you’ll argue. You stay quiet, busying your hands with the hem of your skirt, fingers lifting it slightly before you remember who owns the eyes sitting across the room. They look golden from here, a honey you could drown in. You cough at the feeling of sugar in your lungs before collecting yourself and awaiting instruction.

Seemingly pleased with your docility, he smiles wide and crooked. It’s bound into a book he will whisper into you page by page. It’s written in a language only he knows.

Shouta motions you farther inside, leaning back in his seat. He corrects you when you move to sit in the chair on the other side of his desk, waiting with little patience as you settle against his side instead. Your posture is stiff being this close, being this alone.

His facial hair is trimmed neatly, small scars litter his face, the most pronounced a jagged trail under his right eye. From the dim evening light, you see a shadow of loose hairs make a pointed crown around his head.

“St. Teresa of Avila,” Father starts, tapping his fingers against a small stack of papers, “what do you know of her?”

You’re disarmed, the question seems so innocent-- not a note of ulterior motive detectible. Even so, your guard remains high. His intentions need no subtext.

“St. Teresa of Avila, the patron saint of headache sufferers,” you’re struggling to see the point, but Father prompts you to continue, “she was a Spanish nun, she wrote about a prayerful life,”

After another moment of measured silence, you grow even more tense, “Father Shouta, forgive me, I don’t understand,”

You’re hushed with a laugh, the small collection of papers placed in your hands. The first leaf is titled with large letters, “The Life of Teresa of Jesus.”

“I’d like you to read the section I’ve highlighted.”

You shake, thumbing through until you find a block of text traced in bright yellow. You scan its contents, but are quickly interrupted by Shouta’s next request.

“Out loud.”

There’s no escaping the toy box.

His stare is unwavering, giving you no room for objection. They’re not soft like honey anymore, Father Shouta’s eye’s are harsh, bloody gemstones.

You know better than to keep him waiting, adjusting in your half sat position on the side of his desk, you begin reading with hoarse inflection, “In his hands I saw a long golden spear, and at the end of the iron tip I seemed to see a point of fire. With this he seemed to pierce my heart several times so that it penetrated to my entrails.”

Wincing, the words sound like a stranger in your ears. After every sentence, Shouta’s fingertips inch closer to the end of your skirt, right above the knee. You’d be stoned for this kind of hemline at home, but with Father it seems to be exactly the sacred skin he wanted to see.

His hands move, unwavering, as you continue with the annotated paragraph, “When he drew it out, I thought he was drawing them out with it and he left me completely afire with a great love of God.” Fingers stop their gentle assault before adding pressure to your inner thigh, he peels apart your legs with a wordless prompting to keep going.

“The pain was so sharp that it made me utter several moans; and so excessive was the sweetness caused me by this intense pain that one can never wish to lose it, nor will one’s soul be content with anything less than God.”

By the last several words, Father Shouta’s lips are centered in between your open thighs, you feel tears frozen in the duct. You want to pull away, to escape, but his lips hold something you’ve never been this close to.

“Piety is a virtue,” you can feel the hot breath against your most intimate planes of flesh, “but our God is one of pleasure too.”

His kiss feels like branding. An aimless, confused lamb seared with the mark of its owner.

You cry out, loud and broken, when his mouth meets the cotton covering your pussy. Shouta uses his pointer and middle finger to move the fabric away.

No one has ever seen these parts of you, kept locked away for your future husband until now, sitting in the heart of your family's church, writhing from even the slightest touch.Hips buck of their own accord, and you’re granted one last open-mouthed lave against your twitching cunt. His tongue peaks out slightly to catch your clit before pulling away.

You move as if possessed, falling to your knees in front of your Father. Your mouth opens, that same quiet obedience, and his finger brushes your lower lip again. “No one” you think, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of fingers wrapped into the back of your hair, “no one can serve two masters.”

“Body and soul, you’re mine.”

But there’s not a soul left in sight.

✞ 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞: All writing is chiwhorei’s original content, please do not repost or modify. Do no read my content as asmr. Do not recommend me on TikTok.©️

#aizawa smut #aizawa shouta smut #aizawa x reader smut #bnha smut #bnha x reader smut #heavenly bodies collab #chiwhorei.bnha #chiwhorei.fics #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: coercion #tw: sacrilegious #tw: corruption #tw: age gap #tw: darkfic

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lacheri · 3 years

Note

Okay so... you might not even take requests but I’ll give this a shot anyway bc I love everything you write. I fucked up at work big time today and I feel tremendously anxious and guilty. Which made me think... Levi scenario with gf reader messing up on the field? I know he’d prob be harsh af at first but maybe... some fluff in the end? ): only if you want ofc.

hi nonnie! sorry for taking a few days to write this! but I hope u like it <3 (sorry to hear about your bad day btw ):)

accidents and apologies

pairing: dom!Levi x sub!fem bodied reader

content: canonverse, impact play, mild choking, penetrative sex, unprotected sex/creampie, oral (f receiving), some humiliation/degrading, reader is clumsy and Levi is mean, minors DNI

wc: 3.2k

Fat tears sat in thick clusters on the brim of your lash line, a hiccupping sob racking your body. You were as good as dead, having possibly made the biggest fuck up of your military career thus far. Titans seemed like ants in comparison, the fly that buzzes by your ear that irritates you to no end. Levi’s odm gear sat in pieces on the floor, and somehow this loomed over you like the Colossal titan, maybe even larger.

The polish container sat forgotten on your captain’s desk, the wipe slipping from your trembling hands. Your bottom lip quivered, your lungs filling with air quickly as you slumped to the floor next to the shattered metal. Your off duty position of being Levi’s assistant was practically over, it had barely even begun. You had begged for this job for weeks now, only a few days into being his helping hand, you reflected on how poorly of a job you’d done.

It wasn’t enough you had gotten Levi’s tea wrong this morning, adding sugar to the steaming mug, thinking he’d like a change in taste. He didn’t, immediately spitting the liquid out, cursing you into guilt on the spot. To try to make it up to the ravenette, while he was on his lunch, you sat at his desk and began to organize his paperwork by date of importance. You felt pride as you finished with the three piles of stacks, putting fresh ink in his pot for his quill. However, Levi was horribly furious to see what your regret had manifested into. How were you supposed to know he liked his documents organized by date of assignment, not what was most important?

This was the cherry on top, Levi leaving for dinner, mentioning that his gear did need some polishing. Surely, you wouldn’t fuck this up, he thought as he closed the door to his office behind him. How wrong the man had been though. Within minutes, your fingers became slippery, losing your grip on the cold metal as watched in horror as it clattered to the floor, breaking on impact. It didn’t make much sense, how could it have broken? Wasn’t the gear meant to outlast a titan’s grip? Especially Levi’s trusty gear, you couldn’t fathom how his gear was now laying in pieces on the floor.

You sucked back your sob as you heard the creek of the door, your heart falling straight down to the pit of your stomach. Of course Levi would be back before you recite your apology a thousand times over in your head. You heard the thud of his boots hit the floor as he walked over, seemingly calm.

“Oi, what are you doing on the floor?” he barked out, you could feel his presence looming from behind you.

You turned your head up, his face blurry from the rush of tears in your eyes, “Sir, I am so sorry.”

His grey eyes flickered in front of you, finally taking notice of his broken gear. His lips twitched in a deep frown as he sucked in air through his nostrils harshly.

“Get up, cadet,” Levi spoked venomously, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

You hurried to your feet clumsily, trying your hardest to quell your cries from your throat. You faced him, head downturned, attempting to steady your racing heart rate and the tremors in your bones. Whatever control you thought you had slipped from your grasp the second your captain’s lips parted.

“Never in my life have I met someone as insolent as you,” the harshness of his words kept your eyes on his boots, fresh teardrops rolling down your cheeks. Levi was not going to speak to the crown of your head though, and his hand gripped your chin to force your eyes up, looking directly into his own. “You’re going to look at me while I talk to you, understood?”

You nodded, but this was not what Levi was searching for, “Your words, cadet.”

“Yes, sir,” it came out of your mouth as a squeak.

“You want to explain to me why my odm gear is broken?”

“It slipped,” you hiccupped, violently shaking under his fierce glare. “I couldn’t catch it in time. Captain, I’m so sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” he bemused darkly in disbelief. “This is the third time today you’ve fucked something up, and you’re just sorry?”

“I don’t know what else to say,” you were on the verge of hyperventilating as you stuttered your words out.

“Well, now you owe me new gear, and you’re going to personally pay for the expense,” Levi’s hand left your face as he backed away from you, sitting down at his desk.

You looked on in confusion, “Sir, I don’t have any money?”

“Then I guess you’re fired,” Levi tilted his head back as if bored now with the conversation. “You’re relieved of your military duties as well. We can’t afford to have someone as brainless as you in the Scouts.”

“Captain, please,” you raised your voice, arms wrapping around yourself to contain your shaking.

Levi’s eyes darkened, leaning forward to press his elbows on his desk as he leaned his head onto his intertwined fists, “Leave my office, now.”

This couldn’t be happening. You had no home to return to, having left it behind long before you joined the Training Corps. This was your life, your purpose, your friends were here. You finally felt like you had a place in the world here in the Scouts.

“I’ll do whatever I have to!” you begged, not moving a muscle. “Whatever I can do to stay!”

“Are you deaf or just an idiot?” Levi pushed onto his feet, striding over to stand right in your face as he spat. “Leave my fucking office, that’s an order!”

Your bottom lip trembled, and you felt so fucking pathetic but couldn’t stop yourself from one last attempt, “Please, sir. Don’t kick me out, please let me make it up somehow.”

Your brain took a moment to catch up with what had just happened as you were suddenly staring down at the wooden notches of Levi’s desk. He had grabbed your wrists in a fierce swiftness, pushing you face down, his hands now positioned against your spine to keep you in place. His right hand reached around to fumble with your belt, and your heart began to race for other reasons.

“Captain?” you stuttered, feeling him begin to pull off the belts stationed on your thighs.

“You think you can just beg me in that voice, looking like that, and expect me not to lose control?” his voice was thick with anger, but instead of fear, it tickled bouts of arousal in your lower stomach. “Answer me.”

“No?” it came out as a question, you pushed your thighs together as you felt a pulse run through your core as his fingers tickled the exposed skin of your lower stomach. “Sir, I’m confused, what’re doing?”

“Like you have no idea what you do to me,” Levi chuckled without humor. “You begged me to be my assistant even though you knew you weren’t going to be a good one. You think I wouldn’t notice, your little crush on me?”

It was true, so entirely true. Levi had been the object of your affection for such a long time now, taking every opportunity to get as close to the man as possible. If you were being honest with yourself, this fantasy of being bent over his desk was a constant distraction in your mind. He was right, you were shit at cleaning, you were probably the most clumsy person you knew, you really had no qualifications to be Levi’s aide, yet you still asked for the position.

“Then why’d you hire me, Captain?” the bratty words left your lips as it dawned on you, Levi had found you appealing regardless of your lack of qualities.

With a quick motion, your pants and panties were bunched around your knees, Levi’s palm meeting the now exposed skin of your cheek in a caress, “The same reason you’re fucking soaked right now, cadet.”

You stayed in position as Levi brought his other hand to your opposite ass cheek, fingers kneading the fat as he spread you open to his hungry view. He was right, you were dripping. His pointer finger ran down the seam of your ass, laying a soft touch to your hole, watching it flutter in excitement. He couldn’t hold back the smirk on his face, removing his touch entirely.

You whined, pushing your bottom closer to Levi’s hands, desperate for his touch. Your hips were slammed against the edge of his desk, his fingers digging firmly into the back of your thighs, pushing your legs back together. You felt a jarring sting on your backside, yelping in response as you could make out the distinct imprint of each of his fingers.

“You want to show me you’re really sorry?” Levi’s voice was low and raspy as he soothed his palm over the reddened mark he had made. “Tell me after every slap.”

You were able to brace yourself this time as you felt the strike of his hand once more on your opposite cheek, unable to contain your moans at the contact. You squirmed as you felt removal of Levi’s touch leave you, only to bite down on your tongue harshly as he swatted the back of your thighs much harder than he had on your ass.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he spoke ruthlessly as another slap hit your thighs.

“I’m sorry!” you cried, gasping for air from the impact.

“Again,” his hand smacked the fat of your ass again, his other hand smoothing over the harsh red blotches against your thighs in an attempt to soothe the pain.

“‘M sorry!” you were whining, knuckles white from gripping the opposite edge of the desk as you arched your ass up into his hold. Part of you was genuinely shocked over how much you were enjoying this, thoroughly aroused mentally and physically.

Levi couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight in front him. The handprints scattered across your lower half had his cock springing to life, hard and painfully erect. His hands traveled down to your pussy lips, using his thumbs to spread you open. Your hole was drooling, Levi let out a deep groan at the sight. He couldn’t stop himself, he had to have a taste.

You let out a sputtered moan as you felt the tip of your captain’s tongue lick a stripe from your hole to your clit. You pushed your hips further into his touch, thankful he resisted in shoving you back into the edge of the desk this time. His fingers held you open and apart, his taste buds rolling circles into your clit before returning back to your flitting opening, shoving his tongue in your walls. You could feel it fold in half, almost in a cupping motion as he bobbed his head, lapping as much as he could.

“Oh my God,” you whined, thrusting a hand behind you to grasp at his hair. His palms circled to the fronts of your thighs, digging his fingers into the fat as he pulled you somehow closer as he buried his face further into your dripping heat.

You were seeing stars, in between the mix of the pain and pleasure, your brain was completely empty. Levi’s right hand left your left thigh for a moment, coming back with a softer slap, inching his fingers to your center. His pointer finger swirled your clit relentlessly, and your breathing hitched as you were brought to even higher heights than before. His thumb joined not long after, pinching and pulling at your bud as you yelped.

You could feel the beginnings of your impending orgasm as Levi twisted and lapped your walls. The burning churn in your lower stomach became almost unbearable as Levi’s fingers worked faster at your bundle of nerves, full of purpose and intentions. Levi could feel the sudden change, your pussy clenching tighter and tight around his wet muscle. Your arousal was thicker, almost muskier as he inhaled through his nose, and Levi could swear he could drink from your core as if you were the finest of wines.

At the first blinding rush of pleasure, your body preparing itself for the intense promise of release, the ravenette removed all touch. You were gasping for air, your entire body’s nerves tingling uncomfortably. You were aching, desperate for anything.

“Look at you,” the return of Levi’s palm slapping your ass was welcomed with a smile on your face, thankful for any form of touch. “Falling apart that easy?”

You mumbled out a 'sorry', remembering his earlier warning. Apparently this was the word Levi was searching for, spinning you around and attaching his grip to your hips, slamming your sore ass on his desk, shoving his paperwork to the floor. Your eyes widened dramatically, seeing Levi’s cock fully exposed out of the zipper of his trousers. He was thick, his tip red and angry as he moved his fist over his length, a quiet groan leaving his parted lips as he relieved some of his own pent up arousal.

“Open,” he demanded, removing his hand from his dick, extending his palm to your pouty lips. You complied, letting your mouth loll open as Levi’s fingers pressed against your tongue, rolling them around to coat his digits.

He pulled them out with a pop from your lips, returning his now dripping hand to his erection, covering the entire member in your saliva. He gripped the backs of your knees after he deemed himself properly lubed up, dragging you right to edge as he positioned himself.

His grey eyes flickered up, fiery and full of lust, his voice hoarse, “You ready?”

“Yes,” you mewled, your fingers wrapping around the edge of the wood to steady yourself.

Without a moment of hesitation, Levi held your legs up as he slid his fat tip along the slick of your folds. It was so wet, so sloppy, you couldn’t contain the whimper leaving your lips as he pressed into your sopping hole. You could’ve sworn you felt your soul attempt to leave your body as he slid in, resting his tip right against your sweet spot once he was fully sheathed, your eyes rolling back into your skull as the mind blowing pleasure. He hadn’t completed a full thrust before you were begging for more.

“Please, please, more,” you managed out in between gasps, Levi rolling his hips backwards.

“You want more?” he chided, ramming himself so hard, the two of you bounced from the impact. You nodded, unable to voice a single word, drool threatening to escape your lips. His fist left the comfort of your bent knees, coming up to squish your cheeks together, a dribble of spit glistening against your pout, “You’ll answer me when I ask you a question, brat.”

“Yes! More!” you strangled out, muffled from his grip on your face. He let go, placing a very soft pat to your cheekbone, almost as a reward.

“Atta’ girl,” Levi’s gaze turned dark as his eyes traveled from your eyes to the column of your neck. How pretty would you look with his fist wrapped around your throat?

The thought was threateningly persuasive as Levi found himself doing just that, squeezing the sides of your neck as he began to piston his cock between your folds. The sounds of slapping skin and your pussy squelching had you panting loudly, Levi’s fingers pressing harder into the sides of your throat. It felt so good, good wasn’t even the word to describe it. In fact, there weren’t any words in your brain at all, too consumed by the visuals of the ravenette plowing hard into you.

His hand left your throat upon seeing your eyes begin to flutter, his concern for your ability to breathe over taking his lust. Instead, he circled both his arms under your back, bringing you up into a folder position against his chest. He placed open mouth kisses along the curve of your shoulder, licking and sucking at any skin he could reach. Your ankles hooked around his waist, and you couldn’t hold yourself back from slipping a hand to your aching clit.

“Kiss me,” you pleaded into Levi’s neck as your middle finger rubbed hard at your clit, your thick slick coating the pad. You got curious, letting your hand trail further down, exploring the motion of his cock pummeling into you.

“Put your hands on my back, and maybe I will,” he growled out, displeased that he wasn’t the one bringing you total and complete pleasure.

You followed his orders with speed, his head navigated out of the crook of your neck, capturing your lips with a hasty passion. He tasted sweetly sour, the lingerings of your essence resting in the crevices of his lips, but still, you couldn’t get enough of his kiss. When his hand finally left the middle of your spine, and began to travel down to your center, you could feel the bubbles of climax igniting back in your stomach.

“Levi,” you moaned into his mouth as his fingers moved at lightning speed against your nerves, timed nearly perfectly with the pattern of his thunderous thrusts. The desk was squeaking loudly against the floor as he continued to pound into animalistically, moving it slightly with every move.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, gonna’ cum,” you swallowed his words as he somehow sped up his movements, driving you straight to your climax.

You couldn’t even warn him, you barely had time to realize you were cumming yourself. It almost hurt how tightly you had clenched his cock as the pleasure nearly blinded you, unable to hold back swears and moans. Levi kissed you harder, and upon feeling your contractions swallowing him whole, your plush walls pulling his tip right up against your cervix, his hips staggered and his knees buckled.

Levi’s brain went blank as his orgasm was ripped from him, “Fuck, fuck!”

Levi should’ve felt embarrassed at the noises that left his mouth, whimpers and soft moans exiting his throat as he came hard. It was almost too much, the feeling of your wet heat wrapping around his most intimate part, the closeness of your bodies, although still fairly clothed, had his heart hammering in his ears.

When you came down from your highs, all you could was stare at each other in astonishment, breathing heavily into each other’s mouths. He rested his sweaty forehead against yours, fluttering his eyelashes shut as he kissed you gently. You let out a sleepy giggle, your body entirely spent. His hand finally left the sensitive skin of your clit, wrapping your fingers around the back of your head as his kiss deepened.

When he finally slid his softened length out of the depths of your pussy, you were hissing at the fluttering of soreness intruding your pelvis. Levi shot you an apologetic look, kissing your forehead.

“Does this mean I can still be your assistant?” you mumbled, a small smile on your face as Levi reached down to pull his pants up.

His head tilted back as an uncharacteristic laugh bubbled out, flashing you a mischievous smile, “Get yourself cleaned up, and meet me back in my office. I still don’t believe you’re actually sorry.”

#levi smut #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman smut #levi fanfic #levi fanfiction #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #levi x reader #tw: impact play #tw: degradation #levi ackerman x reader #levi x you #levi x y/n #aot x reader #tw: choking

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sailorhyunjinz · 4 years

Text

~ High on hatred ~

Warnings: SMUT, college!au, stoner!jisung, fem!reader, goodstudent x badstudent, illegal substances, fingering, blowjob, aggressivity(?), choking, hairpulling, penetrative sex (stay safe :c), nicknames (babygirl, slut..), hickies, cuddles!

Word count: 3,134 words (ok cherry slow down ffs)

Requested: yesyes~ thank u anon for requestiiing cc:

Note: ok huge note here! i literally know nothing about drugs/illegal substances (or even legal substances for maybe except my raging caffeine addiction) (where im from most substances are illegal heh) so please understand if this shits written like shit) also bad boys x good girls is my WEAKNESS since i always want some “bad boy” to wreck my good girl agenda hahahsh

Jisung wasn’t the most outstanding student in college but somehow you ended up being partners for a group project. The quiet straight A kid with the failing stoner, you could already imagine how this would go. You sat next to him in the lecture hall after your professor had announced the pairs and dreaded introducting yourself but your parents raised you with the belief that kindness comes first so you took a deep breath and said:

“Hi! I’m y/n” you smiled at him. His gaze met yours, those dark brown eyes were somewhat bloodshot and his aura reeked of smoke.

“Sup, Jisung” he waved with his thumb, pointer- and middle finger lazily towards you as his gaze scanned your body. You felt a bit uncomfortable by his predatory stare so you shifted in your seat, adjusting the white flowy skirt you had on.

“Ehm.. so.. how do you want to structure up the project? I was thinking that we could divide the parts by-” you were stopped by his scoff. You looked at him in confusion. This would be much more difficult than you anticipated.

“Come over to my house tonight babygirl” his corny smirk and raspy voice made you want to punch him. Taken aback you turned your head slightly as you said;

“What? So I can be another one of the girls you fuck?” your blood was boiling. Who does he think he is with his snapback and dangly silver earrings?

“Chill, I was thinking about working on the project but you seem to have other plans in mind with me” he smirked, still observing you.

Your face turned beet red and Jisungs cocky attitude did not help in the slightest.

“I.. I d-didn’t mean that..” you stuttered but you decided to shut up to not make the situation worse. Jisung reached for the post-it notes that were by your side and wrote something down. He teared it off the pad and just as you stood up, hoping to walk away and never see him again you heard him say;

“Babygirl, come at 7″ he stretched out his arm, hand holding the note.

You grabbed it aggressively and stomped off as you heard him yell “Come safely babygirl”

♡

On your way home you crumbled up the note and stuffed it in your pocket. You had no intention of meeting him but when you arrived home you reached for the pink note in your pocket as you took off your backpack and sat down in the kitchen. The pink note had his adress on it. The urge to just scream and rip up the note was strong but something stopped you and that was the fact that you needed to get this project done. You were not going to fail because of some stoner. You unpacked your bag and started studying on some of your other courses but the note always lurked in the corner of your eye.

Hours later you stood infront of your mirror putting different shirts on hangers against your torso, comparing the colors. Being preoccupied with choosing the cutest shirt you didn’t notice the fact that you tried to look your best for Jisung. Eventually you snapped out of your good girl side that always wanted to look presentable. Why do I care about what he thinks of me? You rolled your eyes and put the shirts back into your closet as you took out a sweatshirt and a matching pair of sweatpants. “This will do” you said under your breath as you slipped into the comfortable fabric before you ordered a taxi.

“Shit better be worth it” you sighed as you clicked “proceed” and saw the sum. You packed your bag with the necessary stationary, threw on a fluffy ivory jacket and grabbed the keys with a jingle.

You greeted the taxi driver whose taxi stood infront of the apartment complex. Before you headed out you managed to grab the pink note and now showed it to the driver that nodded whilst the soft radio static played in the background. The town looked so peaceful in the evenings, the artificial lights from the thousands of offices reflected in your glistening eyes as you looked out the window. You noticed that your shoulders were tense signaling that you were nervous which was dumb. Why would you be nervous to meet a dirtbag that has the right to call you ‘babygirl’? A shudder cascaded down your spine at the though of that awful nickname, especially when it echoed in your head in Jisungs voice.

The taxi halted infront of a long block of brick apartment complexes, the nightlife being busy as usual in the big city you resided. A small “thank you” slipped out of your tongue before you opened the car door and were met by the cold breeze. The entrence had grand glas and wood double doors which opened with a loud creek. You looked at the note once again, checking what apartment number the boy lived in. “248″ you muttered as you made your way up the stone staircase. “Found it”, you stood infront of the slightly bashed ivy colored door. Your hesitant fist made it’s way to knock on the door and after 5 nervewracking seconds the tall, slim boy opened the door with a joint between his lips. Smoke was emitting from behind him and the organic scent hit your nostrils.

“You came babygirl” he leaned against the door frame as he drew in the smoke from the joint and blew it towards you. You coughed and waved your hand infront of your nose, clearing the smoke.

“What you standing for? Come in” he snapped his head backwards as a sign for you to step in. You looked down and entered the small smoke-filled apartment. He went to his room and you followed behind with small steps observing the disorganised living space that was cluttered with takeout boxes and photos of friends. His room wasn’t any better. Piles of laundry sat everywhere in the small room and the bed wasn’t made. Did he seriously think that the two of you could do the project when there was a mess wherever you looked? He kicked a pile of clothes away from the carpet and threw a cushion from the bed towards you. He sat down on the carpet as he drew in another breath of smoke into his lungs. Reluctantly you sat down on the cushion opposite to Jisung that was dressed in a boxy white t-shirt and black basketball shorts.

The big bunch of papers that were required for the project came out of your backpack that was sitting beside you. You spread out the papers on the carpet to make sure Jisung could see but he didn’t seem interested. Instead he kept on smoking as he stared at you intentively, that preditory gaze of his returning. As you were about to start talking about the ideas you had he stretched out his hand offering you a puff. You furrowed your eyebrows as a response to his action.

“No thanks, I don’t do... that..” you said whilst shaking your head gently.

That teeth-gritting smirk was plastered on his face as he said:

“You sure babygirl? It will help you relax” he heightened his eyebrows at you.

Normally you would be very stubborn. You never let anyone do something to you that you didn’t like but in that moment you were swooned by his presence. Was it your feelings or the smoke that you had been breathing in? Without thinking twice you grabbed the joint from his hand to which he licked his lips, grinning.

You put it against your lips and puffed deeply, tasting the smoke in your mouth and feeling it spread in your lungs. A loud cough startled Jisung a bit and you passed the joint back to the brown haired boy. Instantly he looked thousands times more attractive. ‘I must be crazy’ you though as you gently shook your head and tried to concentrate at the papers laid out infront of you. In your peripheral view you saw Jisung shift closer to you and you lifted your head up to look at him. There was something intoxicating about him. The way his brown locks hanged over his eyes or how his piercings shined in the light from outside or maybe it was that veiny hand that held the flaming joint. Whatever it was you found yourself leaning closer to him. Just as he hit the joint again, the smoke spreading in his mouth, you attached your light pink lips onto his plump ones. Jisung opened his mouth in the kiss, crashing his tongue on yours which made the smoke enter your mouth. Being to caught up in the moment Jisung put out the joint on the dark wood flooring which probably was a huge fire hazard but did either of you care in the moment? No.

The kiss was passionate coming from the tremendous amount of sexual tension in the air. Jisung veiny hand cupped your blushing cheek for a second before it snaked around the back of your neck, pulling you deeper into the wet sloppy kiss. You broke the kiss for a moment to stand up and Jisung did the same but only for a moment as you were pushed down against the unmade bed. It smelled just like him. The substances he was smoking accentuated his natural smell because of course it wasn’t just weed but tobacco as well. You remembered the countless times he had been smoking a cigarette with his friends outside the college department and the momentary eye contact the two of you made before you hurried off to your other classes. It always seemed like his gaze lingered on you even as you walked away.

You landed with your hands beside your head. As Jisung hovered above you he held both of your hands in his, pinning you to the bed. The wet patch in your panties was growing simply by seeing him on top of you. He leaned down to kiss you once again, biting so hard on your bottom lip that it almost drew blood. The two tongues fought for dominance but the second his hand crept underneath your sweatshirt you lost, a low whine escape your mouth in defeat. Your heads twisted as the makeout session got a slow but steady pace. His hand was warm but more substantial than you though against your boobs which he squeezed harshly through your white bra. Involuntarily your hand grabs a fist of his hair making him smirk against the kiss.

“Desperate babygirl?” he coaxes you.

“Desperate to get this over with so we can work on the project” you answer inbetween kisses.

“I think you have a much bigger problem to worry about” he growled and looked down for a split second.

As if the smoke wasn’t enough this just added fuel to the fire, both to the deep red color your cheeks were stained with and the wetness in your panties. His clothes were off in a blink and before you knew it he was pulling away yours as well, leaving you with nothing but your slightly embarrassing pink panties that were decorated with a small animal print.

“Aren’t you adorable?” he cooed at you as his hand trailed down your torso and plummeted into your panties.

“Shut up-ahh” your attempt of trying to bring his cocky attitude failed once again when he brutally entered two fingers into your sopping cunt. You couldn’t help but to moan as he started to pump his digits inside of you obviously enjoying the sight of the good girl being demolished beneath his touch. When he started to circle your clit with his thumb you held on to his wrist, digging your nails into his skin in order to stop a loud moan. Jisungs fingertips grazed your g-spot and by this point your small whines turned into breathy moans.

“I though you didn’t like me?” he said arrogantly.

“I don’t” you tried to keep your composure even though his fingers felt so good inside of you.

“Judging by your wet cunt you seem to like me very much, babygirl” he said while grabbing a fistful of your hair. You couldn’t argue because if you really hated him why were you so desperate to have his length inside of you?

Jisungs fingers pulled out of you, your juices covered his digits and as his fingers got closer to your face you opened your mouth and sucked them clean. He harshly pulls you up by your hair, now sitting on the edge of the bed as Jisung stands infront of you. His dick had both girth and length which made your mouth water by just the sight. The red tip was decorated with a bead of precum and as he still held your hair he put the tip against your lips. Instantly you started sucking him off. First you kitten licked the tip of his immense dick being a bit afraid of his size but Jisung got impatient and yanked you by your hair once again, making you take him fully in your mouth and choking. Your eyes burned as they teared up but that didn’t stop you from sucking him off, hollowing your cheeks and bobbing your head profusely. He didn’t seem too impressed though.

“I think I found one thing babygirl can’t do. Sucking dick” he grinned as he looked you deep in the eyes for a second before he bucked his hips into your mouth and facefucked you. His length hit the back of your throat everytime he fucked into you but you were to busy looking at his perfect face. Those sinful grunts that came out from his mouth made you rub your thighs in desperation. How could someone you hated look so ethereal with his dick in your mouth? The way sweat beads formed around his temple and coated a couple of those light brown streaks. The way his big hand held your hair tightly and most importantly those sounds. Those lewd sounds that rolled off his tongue.

He rolled his head back and then looked back at you, catching you staring at him.

“No I definitely think babygirl likes me. Those loving eyes don’t lie” he uttered, staring at you and stroking a piece of your hair behind your ear.

As he pulled out you caught your breath and coughed a for bit before you scooted back on the bed, dragging Jisung by his hand which landed him on top of you once again. He seperated your legs with his knee and lined himself up with your entrance before slowly pushing into you. His girth with the slow movement made you roll your eyes back, the feeling of being filled made you content.

“Fuck...you feel so tight” he said, brows furrowed as he started to slowly push in and out of you. You wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him into a kiss to muffle your moans. The pace steadily increased as you bit his bottom lip while kissing, returning the favor from before that contributed to your swollen lips. When the kiss broke a string of spit seperated your lips as the both of you panted from the thrusts that were becoming more aggressive. You moaned as you gripped onto the bedsheets upon which your knuckles whitened. Jisungs noises turned you on crazily but when he snaked his hand around your neck you could only whine in response. He choked you and held you pinned down stopping you from squirming away. The other hand was circling your clit which only heightened the pleasure, eyes rolling back into your skull. A squeak erupted from the bed everytime Jisung pounded into your soaked cunt but that wasn’t the only sound. The both of you moaned in unison which fit the sound of skin slapping that was filling the room. You tightly shut your eyes trying to silence a moan but opened them soon after, meeting Jisungs brown orbs. His lids were low from the blunt smoke but that only gave his arrogant attitude a boost.

You could feel that he was near by the way his dick twitched inside of you. Feeling cocky you decided to clench against his length which also pushed you closer to your own release. He was clearly getting pissed and leaned down to your neck, sucking purple marks onto it which would be impossible to cover up. You whined and squirmed as you needed to go to school tomorrow and couldn’t bear the strange looks from others when your neck was covered in bruises.

“That’s what you get for clenching around me like a little slut” he growled against your neck as you clenched around him once again earning a moan from him. Now he was getting really close and so were you. His thrusts got harder but sloppier, your boobs bouncing with the pace. You clenched around him one last time and that was the trigger for Jisungs release. The vein on his neck popped up to the surface as his jaw hanged open. Your cunt filled with his warm load which made you cum grip tightly on anything beside you. The both of you rode out the orgasm which made your legs shake and spine bend up from the mattress. Eventually Jisung pulled out leaving you feeling empty with his white cum dripping out of your hole. He layed beside you and panted, chest heaving. You layed there in silence for a minute, only the sound of heavy breathing could be heard in the dark evening. Deciding to clean up the mess he had made you stood up causing the cum to leak down your unstable leg but before you could take a step Jisung grabbed your soft hand and pulled you down onto the bed again. You looked at him in confusion.

“You weren’t planning on leaving me without any cuddles?” he said with a slightly whining voice.

You couldn’t believe what you heard. Before another thought could cross your mind you were already snuggled up in his arms, your head against his heaving chest. It was cozy and you felt safe despite that you barely knew him. You stroked his cheek gently as you observed his perfect facial features. Sure, his attitude could use some work but his face had a flawless charm.

“We should study more often” he muttered against your hair as he kissed you on your head.

Even if the caring boy was high off his rockers your heart fluttered at his words. You blushed as you snuggled closer to his chest, falling sound asleep in his grasp.

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azephresque · 3 years

Text

lily, love

KAZUHA X GN!READER

hanahaki disease au.

in which he, kiryu kazuha, was the cause of your downfall-- yet you wouldn't have it any other way.

Spring was his favorite season.

Kiryu Kazuha. The young samurai who had stolen your heart and carried it out to sea, blissfully oblivious to the way you oh-so-coincidentally visited the harbor everyday in hopes of catching a glimpse of the Crux’s ship.

Kazuha was a man filled with many secrets and abilities, leaving spring in his wake every time he left across the sea.

Did he know? The way he made flowers boom after his mere footsteps? The way his laughs would prompt roses and cherry blossoms to arise and grow like there was no tomorrow?

Of course he didn’t. If he did, you knew he wouldn’t leave after every spring, after every blossom that’d dust his cheeks and complement his vermilion eyes.

It was simple. Pearl-white petals that’d leave your throat reminded you of his hair, the splotches of blood dusting its soft material would make you reflect on that same crimson highlight in his locks.

In this world, there was no escape from this beautiful yet deadly disease. Hanahaki, a sickness where the victim would cough up flowers and petals of all colors and sizes.

Beautiful. Beautiful like him, the absent man who still had your heart. You wouldn’t be surprised if he met someone as gorgeous as him across Teyvat and fell in love— in fact, you weren’t sure if that already happened.

Whenever he’d return, he’d make your heart feel warm, your lungs would constrict at each smile and touch that he so benevolently spared to you. Kazuha was a man that was gentle, too gentle, so gentle that he treated you and many others like a flower.

A flower. If Kazuha were a flower, he’d be a lily. A lily so prosperous and beautiful, a lily that’d never be stained by this cruel, cruel world.

It would never be stained by blood.

And after yet another fruitless search for the sails of the Crux, you returned back to your humble abode. The creeks of the wooden planks that lined your floors did nothing to fill the loneliness in your heart, a reminder that he, your only friend, was still out at sea.

Friend. He was your friend, and nothing more.

For some reason, that thought made your chest hurt.

It was the second day of you getting that strange phenomenon— the supernatural disease of coughing up flower petals. It wasn’t normal, you knew that. You even tried borrowing library books in an attempt to research whatever you were coughing up.

The only solution to such a disease was to get surgery, and to someone like you, who wasn’t a very fortunate earner, you could not afford such surgery.

Maybe unfortunately, you did not want to get the surgery anyways.

Perhaps this was the love that’d get you killed, the love that’d be the end of your life as [Surname] [Name]. With each petal you coughed up, you somehow found yourself relating it to Kazuha, the innocent man who had no idea he’d be your demise.

On the first day, you coughed up cecilia petals. Today, you coughed up rose petals— or were they? You couldn’t tell, they were stained red.

You couldn’t even feel your lips anymore, they were cracked and cold thanks to the icy winters of your nation. Small huffs and puffs that’d leave your lips reminded you that that same man, Kiryu Kazuha, would be returning soon.

Because when spring comes, he comes as well. He comes like the cherry blossoms that’d bloom and the bees that’d buzz. He came in like a tsunami, tumbling down and wiping out everything you’ve ever believed in up until then.

He left a wreckage in his wake, yet he didn’t even realize.

And soon after the snow melted and the sky cleared, spring came. The sky was blue, blue like the sea and the leaves were a vibrant emerald green, beginning to grow pink buds that’d soon turn into cherry blossoms.

“[Name],” That voice. It was soft and airy, almost as if a feather had been condensed into a sound.

“Kazuha.”

He took your breath away. His hair was pearl-white like those cecilia petals, his streak of ruby looked like that rose petal. Everything about him was so utterly stunning that you did not know if you could form the right words.

Ironically enough, his clothes resembled a fall theme, something that greatly contrasted his love for the spring and all its new life that’d grow.

“How have you been?”

“Good,” You replied almost instantly, painfully so, considering that you were the opposite of good.

He held a hand out to you, and it was then that your heart blossomed, the organ beating quicker and quicker as you held his calloused fingers. Beautiful, breathtaking, stunning. He was truly a bright and bold lily, yet he was so unaware of it.

Tugging you along the forests filled with bountiful greenery, you wondered if fate wanted you to keep living like this. In this love, this painful, painful love.

This spring, he returned. And so did those flowers.

—

“[Name]?” Three knocks on your door interrupted the bloodcurdling coughs that’d leave your throat. You had been choking on so much you wondered if your neck was bleeding from the constant scratches that’d ricochet your body.

“Yes?” You called meekly, crimson liquid dripping down the side of your lips. Crimson like his eyes, crimson like his clothes and bits of hair.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to come in?”

Yes.

“No.”

Kiryu Kazuha loved spring, so much so that he brought it with each miniscule step and smile.

So much so, that spring blossomed throughout your lungs. Spring was so sweet, so beautiful, so giving.

And it was because of that, that cherry blossoms flourished through your lungs as if it were a jar made to grow. It wove around your organs and heart until there was nothing left.

On this day, you coughed up your first flower.

It was a lily.

Yet again, the mere sight of it reminded you of him— the catalyst for this all— Kazuha.

And though he may be the reason for your downfall, the love that sprouted through your stomach and pierced your chest said so quietly:

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Flowers were beautiful, just as he.

Spring was his favorite season.

“[Name]?” Kazuha raised his voice slightly over the doorway, confused once your agonizing coughs abruptly stopped.

The way your name was spoken from his lips made you relax a little, the feeling of vines constricting your once bloody-neck numbed as you stumbled to the floor.

Something, something was crawling up your throat. Yet thanks to your experience in this particular field, you knew it was not a cough.

A cherry blossom emerged from your throat, passing by your lips.

Spring.

You were spring.

#kazuha x reader #genshin x reader #kazuha

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at-the-sign-of-the-fox-n-phoenix · 2 years

Link

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ifisthemiddlewordinlife · 10 months

Text

#Shannon Baker #pendelton blanket #choke cherry creek #first nations #cree #metis #native fashion #fishing lake metis settlement #treaty6

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noctuaas · 4 years

Text

LIKE STRAWBERRY WINE

synopsis; strawberry wine and seventeen. the hot july moon saw everything.

pairing; oikawa tooru x reader

content; mention of sex, slight angst, pro athlete!oikawa, pining, happy ending

word count; 1.4k

Despite the number of years that passed, this place always remained the same. The creek was steady in its course, the hum of summer insects still present, and that boulder by the maple tree was just how you left it. Granted, it was covered in a layer of fallen canopy that collected over the past year or so, but once you brushed away the leaves, you swore it was just like the day he first brought you here.

“C’mon, just keep walking. I’m not gonna let you trip,” Oikawa encouraged you forward, though your steps were small and hesitant because he had his hands covering both your eyes. You couldn’t help it; he had you walking blindly.

It was only a few more steps before he left your face barren, and by the time you blinked your eyes open, adjusting to the light, he was standing in front of you with his arms held out.

“Tada!” he grinned, and below him was a cheesy red-and-white checkered picnic blanket and a wicker basket with canvas cloth peeking out; the bottle of strawberry wine he somehow snuck out here was just the cherry on top.

“Oikawa,” you trailed off. You really wanted to resist the smile creeping onto your face, but you couldn’t help it. He was certainly a charmer.

When you seated yourself next to him, Oikawa was already laying out little sandwiches he made and pouring the wine into little plastic glasses. It was a beautiful rosy color, and condensation quickly built around the edges of the cup. You distantly wondered how he kept the bottle cool all this time.

“So do you always bring the girls you wanna fuck here?” you grinned slyly. It sounded pessimistic and perhaps a bit vulgar, but you weren’t dumb. This spot was perfect to woo a girl; it was secluded and romantic, and it felt special, like it might be straight out of a storybook.

Oikawa nearly choked on his drink when you said that. Okay, he got where you might get that idea, but he hadn’t expected you to say something so blunt. It actually made him chuckle, though it came across a little nervous as he scratched the back of his neck.

“No. Actually, this has always been my little secret. Iwa-chan doesn't even know about it,” Oikawa said, leaning back on his hands.

You only cocked your head, hoping for him to expand. The more he drank, the more he told you.

“I think I first came here when I was maybe eight. Iwa-chan and I were playing hide and seek in the woods, and I found this little hidden path that led down here! He was taking so long to find me, I got scared that he just left me.”

“I wouldn’t put it past Iwaizumi,” you laughed and took another sip.

“I wouldn’t either, that’s why I gave up on the game and went to go find him. We were both crying by the time we found each other because we thought we were going to be in trouble for losing the other one.”

You admired how little wine it took to get him to open up. The charismatic, cunning, almost snide at times version of Oikawa you always saw never sat quite right with you. Not to say he wasn’t all of those things, but you felt there had to be something more to him. Before now, he never really talked much about his childhood. Before now, you had never seen him laugh so carefree. Before now, you couldn’t remember the last time he looked like he was having fun.

Maybe nowadays, the creek was turning more into a river. You couldn’t see the bottom as well as you recalled, but the flow of water didn’t seem to have receded any lower from the bank. Other than that, there was no discernable difference in any of the scenery. Good. That meant no one else had found this place.

It had once been Oikawa’s secret hideaway, and then it had turned into both yours and his, but now it only belonged to you. Oikawa hadn’t been in Japan for years, besides holidays. Last you heard, he was off in Argentina, making a living in the professional volleyball league. You always knew he was going to go far.

“You’ll be able to do anything you want,” you told Oikawa. Coming down to the creek was becoming a habit for you two. Today was particularly hot. It wasn’t that the sun beat down terribly, but the air was soggy and heavy; a summer rainstorm passed through a few days ago, but it decided it wanted to hang around a bit longer. After dipping in the creek, you both laid in your swimsuits on that picnic blanket he always brought.

“You think?” Oikawa asked, staring up at the sky with his hands resting behind his head.

“I know,” you smiled and turned over, laying your head on his chest. He peered down at you and returned the smile.

A month ago, you would have probably been met with a self-assured ‘Of course I can, darling!’, but that was a month ago. He wasn’t so scared to be human around you anymore. He could be flawed with you, and there was nothing wrong with that.

You two ended up having sex right there on that blanket. A bit of a blunt way to put it, but you didn’t know how else to call it. It wasn’t quite making love, but it was far from just fucking. The amount of times you were tempted to cry out ‘I love you, Tooru,’ should probably have been embarrassing, but at least you never actually did it.

You sat in the same place you two had always laid that blanket down. It no longer was marked by splotchy grass, a derivative of you and Oikawa both bearing your weight down on it too often for it to properly grow, but you still knew exactly where it was. You were careful to not plop down onto a bed of stickers, but you found that the ground was remarkably soft.

You don’t know how long you were there, picking dandelions and attempting to weave them together, but when a voice spoke up from behind you, you nearly jumped out of your skin.

“You come down here because you were missing me?”

It didn’t feel real, to hear his voice, but when you turned to look back, there was no mistaking that Oikawa was really here. He was leaning on a tree right where the hidden path opened up, that cocky, but oh so charming grin of his bright as ever.

Yes, you thought, but you would never say that aloud right now. You couldn’t stop staring. Was this a crazy fever dream? No, you knew very well you weren’t sick. He was here, standing maybe ten feet away.

Oikawa had barely changed. His hair was a little shorter, a little lighter from the South American sun, but other than that, he was the same boy you fell for that summer.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you shot back softly. You couldn’t help but smile a little. It was nice to see him again.

Oikawa didn’t answer for a while. His gaze dropped, locking on fingers that started to fiddle. A few slow steps toward you, then he was lowering himself next to you.

“I actually think about you a lot,” he mumbled. He still didn’t dare look at you, gazing straight ahead. You stared at him in shock.

“Pretty sad, huh? Pro athlete, could have about anything I want, and I’m still in love with a summer fling from high school,” he finished.

Did he just imply what you thought he did? You swallowed thickly.

“You were in love with me?” you asked, voice barely more than a whisper. Oikawa chuckled and finally looked at you.

“More than I’d care to admit, darling.”

Of course he would still call you darling, and of course it would still make your heart flutter. And now your cheeks were getting warm. It was your turn to look away, tucking your head to fix your eyes on the dandelions amassed on your lap.

Part of you wished he had said something back then, but another part understood why he didn’t. You two were going your separate ways after that summer. But, you couldn’t help but wonder what might have been if either of you had confessed.

“Would you want to go get lunch and catch up?” Oikawa broke you from your thoughts. When you looked at him again, he had a foreign expression on his face; he was smiling, sure, but he looked nervous. He was being human.

“That would be amazing, Oikawa,” you replied.

Oikawa stood and held his hand out to you. You gladly took it, letting him pull you up before leading the way.

#hehehe this has been in my head forever and I finally got around to it !!!!#my writing #haikyuu #haikyu!!#hq #haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagine #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa #oikawa tooru #oikawa imagine #oikawa oneshot #oikawa scenario #song fic #oikawa hq #hq imagine

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mysterycheerio · 3 years

Text

Lights Up, on Washington Heights up in the break of day…

Peter closed his door, keys rattling in his hand. Across the street sat his little corner shop - the coffee shop he had worked in since he was small, and in front of it, the gang of graffiti artists painting the roller door in front of it.

The customers were gathered around, watching the artist, mumbling to themselves in disagreement for the pseudo Banksy.

Frustration filled him, and he ran towards them, shouting, "Hey, HEY!"

They ran off.

I wake up and I got this little punk I gotta chase away,

He entered the shop, asking the polite customers to bear with him a moment while he got everything ready, humming to himself as he did his chores.

Pop the grate at the crack of dawn, sing while I wipe down the awning-

He stepped outside, flipping the sign to 'open', and said in a good-natured tone, "Hey, y'all, good morning."

Piragüero, the man selling a sweet, shaved ice type dessert, called a 'piragua', rounded the corner, like he did every day, "Ice cold piragua! Parcha, China, Cherry, Strawberry, and just for today, I got mamey!"

"Yo, Piragüero! ¿Como estas?"

"¡Como siempre, Señor Parker!"

He smiled as the old ladies brought in their grandchildren, pulling them up to the desk. He greeted them the way he knew the ladies wanted.

"They call me Peter, and you prob'ly never heard my name - reports of my fame are greatly exaggerated," he said in a sing-song voice. The guardians began to shop, leaving the children at the front of the store listening to his story - how he's a first generation immigrant, who now sells coffee in his little corner shop.

He went into the back for the second, talking loud enough so that the kids could hear him. He opened the fridge and sniffed the milk, checking to see if it was still fresh, but all that met his nose was the scent of putrid dairy.

The door opened, and in stood Maria Carbonell, known to the community as Abuela Maria.

"Abuela, my fridge broke," he said, voice hinting at desperation as he tried to speak quietly so the kids wouldn't hear him, "I have café but no con leche!"

She smiled, "Try my mothers old recipe: one can of condensed milk."

They walked back out, winking at the kids, "Nice!"

"Ay, Paciencia Y Fe!"

He turned his attention to the kids, "That was Abuela, she's not really my Abuela but she practically raised me, this corner is her esquela," he said, the kids laughing as he turned on the spot.

"Excuse me," a middle aged man said politely, "Can you tell me how to get here?" He pointed at a picture of downtown.

"Ah, you're probably thinking, 'I'm up shits creek'. Have you ever been North of 96th Street?" He shook his head. Peter figured as much, "Well, you must take the A train, go even farther than Harlem, to Northern Manhattan. Get off at 181st and take the escalator. And you're there!"

"Thank you so much," he said, grateful, before holding his hand out to one of the kids and pulling him out of the shop, "Come on Michael."

"But dad, I want to listen to the man's stories!"

He smiled.

Soon the kids had to depart with their guardians, and he gave a friendly wave at their departure.

I'm getting tested, times are tough on this bodega, two months ago somebody bought Ortega's. Our neighbours started packing up, and picking up, and ever since the rent's went up-

"It's gotten mad expensive," a kid said, making small talk as Peter handed him his coffee.

"But we live with just enough," he said, smiling.

"Amen, brother."

Next up to bat, the Starks! They run the cab company, and struggle in the barrio, see - their son Harley is off at college, tuition is mad steep, so they can't sleep, everything they get is mad cheap.

"Good morning, Kid," Tony said, hand in hand with his wife, Pepper.

"Pan caliente café con leche!"

Tony nodded, "Put 20 dollars on today's lottery-"

"One ticket, that's it!"

"Hey, a man's got a dream."

Peter laughed at the couples banter, when Pepper addressed him, "Don't mind him, he's all excited cause Harley flew in at 3 am last night-"

Peter set down the drinks, "Don't look at me."

They took their drinks, and as a parting message, Tony said, "Underoos, come over for dinner, there's plenty to eat!"

Peter barely got five seconds before he heard the sound of distinct chatter, "So, then Yesenia walks in the room-"

"-Uh huh."

"She smells sex and cheap perfume, it smells like one of those trees that you hang from the rear-view!"

"No!"

"It's true! She screams 'who's in there with you, Julio!' Grabs a bat and kicks in the door, and she's in bed with Josè from the liquor store."

"No me diga," the younger of the two said.

"Wanda and Nat, going to the salon?"

Nat nodded, and the two chorused, "Thanks Pete!"

Monday is a busy day for him, to say the least.

The bell on the door dings for the umpteenth time that morning, but instead of a customer, it's a small, black boy, fourteen, who's rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

"Miles, you're late," he says, his tone annoyed, but Miles knows there isn't any real bite behind it.

"Chillax," he says, making his way to the back of the store, "You know you love me."

He rolls his eyes.

Me and my cousin running just another dime-a-dozen, Mom-and-Pop, stop-and-shop and oh my god, it's gotten two darn hot-

He turned on the AC. The weather man said this summer will be one of the hottest in history.

People come through for a few cold waters and a lottery ticket, just a part of the routine, everybodies got a job, everybodies got a dream. They gossip as I sip my coffee and smirk, the first stop as people hop to work.

That's his day really. An endless blur of one dollar, two dollars, one fifty, one sixty-nine, I got it, you want a box of condoms what kind?, that's two quarters, the New York Times, you need a bag for that? The tax is added.

Like he was saying to Miles when he first came into his life, "Once you get some practice at it, you do rapid mathematics automatically."

Miles then comes out of the back, preparing himself to work the counter so Peter could do the coffee's - Peter was the only one who knew the secret recipes that kept the customers coming- successfully snapping him out of his thoughts.

"How are they today?"

"Practically everybody's stressed, but they press through the mess."

Miles nodded.

"You ain't got no skills," a voice said, as they walked into the store.

"Ned!"

Ned smiled, leaning against the counter. Peter and him were best friends growing up, so naturally, Ned was a regular in the shop, despite working long hours for a boss that didn't respect him.

"Yo, let me get a-"

"Milky way?" Peter guessed.

"...Yeah. Let me also get a-"

"Daily news."

"And a-"

"Post."

"And a most importantly, my-"

"Boss' second coffee, one cream, five sugars."

Miles wrinkled his nose at Ned's boss's absurd amount of sugar, and Ned began to talk to Peter about his job while he waited.

"I don't get it! I'm the number one earner! He can't keep me on the damn back burner-"

"Yes he can."

"I'm making moves, and I'm making deals, but guess what?"

"What?"

"Ya still ain't got no skills!"

"Hardee-Har," he said, sarcastically, pouring the creamer in.

"Has Michelle shown up yet?" Ned asked Miles, who was smiling.

"Shut up!" Peter said hastily.

"Hey, dude, don't be upset. You should tell her how you feel. Buy the girl a meal,on the real, or you ain't got no skills."

The doorbell dinged. This is why Peter was so anxious to be talking about Michelle. She normally came in around this time. Right now, she was looking at the ground, phone to her ear.

"Mr. Johnson, I have that security deposit. I've been saving to make a down-payment, and pay rent… no, no, I won't let you down-".

Ned whispered to him, "Here's your chance, ask her out."

"-I'll see you later, we can look at that lease," she said, before hanging up.

"Do something, make your move, don't freeze!"

"Hey," he said, buzzing with nerves.

"You owe me a bottle of cold champagne," she said, her voice soft and soothing. Despite this, her words made a heavy feeling form in his gut. It was something they'd thought about years ago, but only if-

"Are you moving?"

She shrugged, "Just a little credit check and I'm on that downtown train."

He tried to shake off the sad feeling, "Well, your coffee's on the house."

"Okay," she said with a smile, before turning to leave.

"Peter, ask her out."

"No way," Miles said.

But Michelle turned around, "I'll see you later… so…"

And with that, she left.

"Oh, smooth operator, oh damn, there she goes," Ned teased, before taking a look at Peter’s still kinda sad face, "Hey, dude. Take five, get some fresh air, a walk outside. You look exhausted, lost…"

"I kinda feel that way," he joked, but was it a joke?

Ned looked at him with sympathy, "Hey, the whole neighbourhood is struggling, and times are tight, and you're stuck to this corner like a streetlight…"

Ned looked at his watch, and rushed out of the shop, saying he was gonna be late and bidding adieu to the two guys, but Peter could say it back, his friends words bouncing around in his head.

Yeah, I'm a streetlight, choking on the heat. The world spins around while I'm frozen to my seat. The people that I know all keep on rolling down the street, and everyday is different so I'm switching up the beat.

Cause my parents came with nothing, they got a little more, and sure, we're poor, but yo, at least we got the store. It's all about the legacy they left with me, it's destiny, and-

One day, I'll be on the beach with Miles writing checks to me.

That's what he wants to do. His parents died, along with his aunt and uncle, leaving him in the care of Abuela. He longs to go to a beach, and reconnect with his roots. A better life, one where he isn't stuck serving coffee's.

It gets more expensive every day, in their little corner of the world.

Turn up the stage lights, we're taking a flight to a couple of days of what it's like-

In Washington Heights.

#peter and tony #peter parker fics #tony stark #no powers au #in the heights #coffee shop au

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cloudshapedpatch · 4 years

Text

Misguided Royalty

Chapter Three: Impulse Control Has Left The Palace

First / Previous / Next (coming soon!)

💚 💚 💚 💚 💚 💚 💚 💚

Marinette Cheng was a bright girl, but she could be quite impulsive. When she set her heart on something, she pleaded and schemed until she got it.

And at this very moment, sitting at the dinner table with her mother and the Emperor, she decided she wanted to go see the town down the hill.

She had seen it from afar; if she leaned over the edge of her balcony she could see a few scattered homes. The best way to see it was from one of the tall castle towers that she was never allowed in, or from the garden. Since the garden was no longer safe (curse Chat Noir and his nosy tendencies) she could not see it.

"Mother, have any citizens seen a likeness of me?" The words blurted out before she could filter them. A hand slapped over her mouth after them.

"That is an odd question. I cannot say that you have ever gotten a portrait painted of you. Would you like one?"

"Well, perhaps not—"

"A fantastic idea, Sabine!" The Emperor boomed with a laugh, "But we should wait until she becomes Empress. We will need one then, and there is no point in having two."

"I suppose you are right. A fine decision." Her mother said, then continued to eat silently.

The princess was glad the attention was no longer focused on her. It gave her a little more time to think. If she truly wanted to go through with this awful idea, she was going to need all the logic she could get.

Unfortunately, logic was far gone. The princess had a letter sent to Damocles with something along the lines of 'take a day off, Empress Sabine's orders', and told her mother she would be spending the day with Damocles in her room. The stage was set, an escape route planned, guards bribed and hummingbird fed, and she was ready for adventure.

Tikki slept above her head and awoke her before dawn the next morning. As quiet as a mouse, she slipped into commoner's clothing she had borrowed from a maid and secured a satchel with some silver and copper coins (and maybe some gold, who knew what she would need it for?) at her hip. Picking up Tikki (and requesting she not make a sound), she made her way down the servant's halls and through hidden doors until she reached the garden.

Then, along the creek she crept, past the cherry blossoms, and slowly, into the stable.

There were many horses she could take. She had her own pure white horse, but that would have given away her riches to the public. Manchu would have to wait for another day.

At least the princess has some sense. I don't think this is a good idea at all.

Marinette spoke soothing words to a brown horse with one black leg and a large black patch on his neck, his name was Fengfeng. This particular horse had a thick shaggy mane and was quite gentle. Marinette had never ridden him before, but she hoped that his calm demeanor would allow for a smooth ride.

Much to her delight, Fengfeng allowed the princess to brush him and lay on the blanket and saddle. She's never stopped quietly reassuring him even as they were coming out of the stable and rushing down the road.

She was free! She could ride down the paved street until the next bend, where it faded off into a packed dirt path. Only a few more yards, and then—

"Your Highness! Where are you going?"

Shit.

A guard Marinette had never seen before stood at the large gate. He was alone, and Marinette thought wryly it was because she had promised the other one some cookies to be absent for the morning. The horse came to a stop a few steps away from the man.

"I... I was just going for a ride! It's lovely this time of year."

"You are not supposed to be outside. It is too dangerous!"

This guy was definitely new. Was today his first day? Surely she'd have seen him before now.

"You're new here, aren't you?"

This question confused the guard, and a sly idea came to the princess. "Yes, Your Highness."

The princess slouched against the horse's neck and gave her sweetest smile. "What's your name?"

"...Bruel, Ivan, Your Highness."

"Oh, please, call me Marinette."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Your Highness."

She straightened up as tall as she could, the smile never leaving. "Well, Sir Bruel, you have a lot to learn. What do you want, pastries? Some clothes? Do you want money?"

"N-no! I cannot be swayed. You must go inside."

Marinette was getting desperate. The sun had started to rise and if she didn't leave soon, she would be caught and never allowed to leave her room again. She jumped down off the horse and hugged the gaurd. "Oh, please sir! You don't understand. Ever since I came to this country four months ago I have not left the palace at all! I want to see the village yonder, I want to see what it's like! I need to, sir, if I'm going to be a proper ruler. Please!"

A long sigh was heard form above her, and she knew she had won.

"Alright, princess. But I will accompany you."

She jumped away from him. "Absolutely not! If you come with me, then everyone will know who I am! I can handle myself."

Before the guard could say anything more, some voices were heard from the garden, along with the clop of horse hooves on rock.

Marinette panicked and pleaded once more with her eyes.

A look of determination crossed Sir Bruel's eyes. Hastily, he lifted her onto the horse. "Go, before I change my mind."

"Thank you, sir. I won't forget your kindness!"

He slapped the horses rump and she sped off down the road, the air rushing past her flushed face. She had never ridden a horse so fast in her life, and it was exhilarating. When she finally looked back, the palace gates were blocked from her view by trees. And before her, the village came ever closer. She relished in the feeling of freedom coursing through her veins.

It took a little longer than Marinette expected, but finally she could hear the bustling noise of the town. Just down a hill, and then she would be there! How exciting!

She opted to walk down the hill with the horse in tow to avoid any extra attention.

At least she is thinking critically now. I mean, who does she think she is? This is incredibly dangerous. What if someone recognizes her? What if— oh no, wait. You'll want to see this.

She had led the horse to a well near the road to drink. Poor Fengfeng nearly galloped the whole way down, but something tells me he was eager to get out of the stable. While Marinette held onto his lead, she took the time to look around.

People were milling about everywhere, no one seemed to stand still. Most of the commotion came from her left, where many booths were set up along the backside of houses. A farmer's market! She thought excitedly, and she was suddenly glad she had brought some money.

Once Fengfeng was done drinking, she tied him to a post where other horses and mules were grazing, and made her way towards the booth nearest her.

This one sold spices. She had no interest in buying any, but she took the time to smell them.

"Hello, young lady! Would you like some herbs? We just harvested some fresh basil this morning." The old woman behind the table said.

"Oh, no thank you, tàitai. I'm just looking."

"Are you sure? I can give you a pouch for 15 ban liang."

"15? That's a lot for a pouch of basil."

"Where have you been, under a rock? I must feed my children; I charge 15. If you don't like it, you can buy some basil from Hua over there," the woman pointed to the booth across the road, where another old woman was also selling spices. "But she charges 17, so you get better from me."

"Are you talking about me? I can hear you!" The other woman shouted to them.

"Yes! You charge too much!"

"No, you charge too little!"

"No one will buy basil for 17!"

The princess quietly slipped away from the two yelling ladies. The palace cook got basil for 5 ban liang a pouch, so why were these women charging so much?

She walked down the narrow aisle looking at the various tables laid out with meats, bracelets, hats, and sometimes live animals. Her attention was brought to a man, who looked no older than 40, selling fabrics.

"Good morning, xiānshēng. You have lovely fabrics."

"Thank you, young miss. Are you looking for something specific?"

"Not really, just whatever looks good."

"Well, how about this nice blue linen. It matches your pretty eyes." The man held up a folded length of light blue fabric.

She bowed her head slightly as she took the fabric from the man's hands. It was rough over her fingers, and could see it was woven rather loosely, and the wool was coarse. She handed it back to him with a smile and asked about any silks.

"You can't except me to have silks. Ha! I haven't seen a silk merchant in years."

"But don't they come on the Great Wall?"

"Not here. The nice fabrics get taken up by the Emperor. I have the nicest linens around here, I guarantee."

"That's awful! The Emperor can't do that! It's not fair!"

Everyone in the direct vicinity stopped talking to stare at her.

The man angrily whispered, "You must not speak of the Emperor that way; you will be executed!"

The princess looked in horror at the fear and pity in everyone's eyes, staring at her as if she had grown another head.

Suddenly she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder. She was too afraid to look at who it was.

"I am so sorry for my friend here, xiānshēng." The stranger said, with a voice as smooth as honey. He leaned in to speak quietly to the man behind the table, but still he spoke loud enough for everyone to hear, "She isn't quite right in the head, she needs to learn to hold her tongue."

The man nodded solemnly.

"Come, your mother is worried for you." The voice said. Marinette looked up at him and choked on her words.

Before her stood the most handsome boy she had ever seen. His hair was golden like the sun, his eyes so deep and vibrantly green. He looked to be about her age, but he was almost a whole head taller than her, and quite muscular.

No coherent words came from her mouth. She nodded dumbly and let him take her away from prying eyes.

Who was he? Why had he come to her rescue when he didn't know her at all? How was he so attractive?

"That was not smart, speaking of the Emperor that way. He lives only up the hill, you know."

She sighed and exerted her eyes. "But it's true, isn't it?"

The boy shook his head, but the disguised princess could see a smile on his pretty face.

"Thank you. You didn't have to do that."

His hand was still on her shoulder. It sent searing fire through her body.

"Well, it was the right thing to do."

He suddenly pushed her sideways into a small alley between two buildings. Quiet sounds of ladies washing clothes came from an open window above them.

A small, wry smile graced his face, but Marinette felt a little uneasy. They were alone now, and she didn't like being trapped by a stranger.

"What's your name, girl? I think I deserve to know."

Panic seized her. Her name was not Chinese, she knew, and if she told him, he would grow suspicious.

"Bao."

"And your first name?"

"...Genji."

"Well, Genji, it's a pleasure to meet you." He took her hand and kissed her knuckles, causing a fiery blush to abrupt onto her cheeks. Quickly, she pulled her hand away and turned away from him.

"Do I get to know your name?"

He chuckled a little bit, and despite her better judgment, Marinette's heart fluttered at the sound. "My name is Adrien. But you don't get to hear my family name."

"Why not? Are you hiding something?"

"Not at all. I just don't give my name to strangers."

She huffed in annoyance. How arrogant! "Well, if that is all, I must be getting home. I have a lot to do, you know."

"I'm sure you do. Let me walk you home, to ensure you arrive safely."

"That won't be needed, I live just down the road."

"Then it's not any problem for me."

"I must get my horse first."

"I can help you mount."

"I can mount myself."

"A lady shouldn't have to."

Frustration bubbled in her chest. Why couldn't he see that she wanted to be left alone? And his smug smile made it worse.

I don't know, I kinda like him. He's just as sassy as the princess.

Nonetheless, they argued a bit more before finally she agreed to let him walk her to her horse and get her situated. He kept his hand on her shoulder and guided her though the crowd. Though Marinette wished she could shake him off, she was glad he was there with her, as if he was shielding her from the judgmental glares.

Once she located Fengfeng (and deflected chatter with Adrien about the horse), she got ready to mount, only for him to grab her by the waist and place her on the horse's back.

She ignored the blush creeping up her neck. "You had no right to touch me in that way."

"You didn't have a problem with it earlier."

She rolled her eyes. "Goodbye, Adrien."

"Will I see you again?"

"It's not likely."

"Anything is possible."

She laughed out of nervousness, wondering if he was going to follow her. But his smile was soft and sweet as he bid her adieu.

She waved and returned the pleasantry before nudging the horse to start.

Wait. He had bid her adieu. How did he know French?

Startled, she looked back at him, only to see him standing exactly where he was before with the same smug smile on his face.

Paranoia settled in her bones the entire trip home.

And her unease only deepened when she arrived at the palace gates and saw her mother and the Emperor waiting for her.

#@mikoriin #i love this au so much #misguided royalty #chapter 3 #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #adrien #adrienette #ml #mlb #secret lovers au #chat noir is an assassin #a bounty hunter and a princess #star crossed lovers #ancient china au #chat noir #princess #empress #my own writing

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loserholland · 5 years

Text

𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

Pairing ➺ College!Peter Parker x College!Reader

Warning ➺ light smut

Word Count ➺ 1,764

Summary ➺ College isn’t college without going to a college party, and who knew 18 year old’s still play seven minutes in heaven?

A/N ➺ My request are open! They will be open till July 14 <3

Request ➺ Would you write Peter goes to his first college party and ends up eating y/n out in the closet during 7 mins in heaven?- anonbabe <3

✿ 𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 ✿ - @loveyathreethousand @taronxfiction @killerqueen-gunpowdergelatine @spideyyypeter @lou-la-lou @babebenhardy @rivervixenbaby @acklesholland @zabdisamor @keepingupwiththehollands @sweet666pea @sspider-parker @jackiehollanderr @iloveyou3000morgan @random-things-i-love@caro0512

☞ Masterlist ☜

(Y/N) banged on Peter’s dorm, let’s just say it’s been one hell of a long week. Her boyfriend of one and a half years had just broken up with her to get back with his ex, and it’s been a long dreadful week full of endless amounts of homework. She headed over to Peter’s to drag him to his first ever college party. She’s been to many at this point and since Peter hasn’t been to one why not take him as your plus one?

Peter tossed and turn ignoring whoever was at the door, it’s been a long week full of test and late night crime fighting. (Y/N) rolled her eyes continuing to knock continuously “Peter!” she shouted smiling at the student’s who glared at her for causing such a ruckus.

Oh it was (Y/N), he slowly got out of bed unlocking the door opening it slightly then fell back onto his bed. (Y/N) shut the door behind her before joining Peter in bed, she poked at his side “Peter.” nothing.

She continued to poke at his side and mumbled “Peter.” after every other poke she sighed tugging the blanket off his head and moved to straddle his lap pinning his arms above his head.

“You have my attention, now why are you here?” Peter groaned looking up at (Y/N) who wore a smile of victory as she released the pressure on his arms.

“Well, you still haven’t been to a college party right?” (Y/N) questioned as she was still straddling Peter’s lap, he leaned up on his elbows raising his brows at her question.

“Tonight I’m popping your cherry! Well, your college party cherry.” Peter switched their places allowing himself to get off the bed and head towards the bathroom.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes moving to sit on the edge of the bed, “Please Pete? You can take a break from spidey duties tonight!” Peter walked out of the bathroom grabbing a shirt from his drawers.

“Who’s party is it?”

“Vivian’s boyfriend frat party.” she mumbled knowing Peter would catch on that her ex would be there due to being in the same frat as Vivian’s boyfriend.

“Who?”

She sighed looking up at Peter, “It’s Ryan’s frat party. Vivian invited me and said I could bring a plus one!” Peter knew Alex going to be there, he wanted to beat the guy to a pulp when he found out what he did to (Y/N).

If he let her, he would treat her right.

“You could be my personal spidey-guard!” Peter rolled his eyes mumbling “Fine, I’ll go.” (Y/N) jumped to her feet and rushed to hug Peter

“Okay, so pick me up at eight sharp! See you then spidey.”

Peter knocked softly against (Y/N) dorm, shifting form one feet to the other looking down at his casual outfit, black shorts with a plain white tee under his red hoodie. To tie in the look his wore his glasses.

(Y/N) opened the door smiling with glee, he came. He didn’t flake, he actually came. She looked at herself once more, a simple plaid skirt with a black top and vans.

“Let’s go spidey!”

Ever since she found out during their freshmen year of high school that Peter was spider-man, she had found spidey as a good nickname for him. Peter on the other hand didn’t like that nickname but still allowed (Y/N) to call him ‘spidey’.

The two entered the house, it was dark and dimly lit by neon signs and glow sticks. The music was beyond loud, you could feel the bass in your chest even before entering the house.

(Y/N) looked up to see Vivian she waved at her briefly before dragging Peter to the kitchen, to grab them something to drink. As usual the house was filled with many bodies grinding against one another, other’s were shoving their tongue down one another throats.

“Finally.” Peter heard (Y/N) mumble once they made it to the kitchen, she grabbed two red solo cups and filled it with vodka and sprite. Once she handed Peter his drink and excused herself to go talk to Vivian.

Let’s just say from when she went to talk to Vivian, and bumped into Alex she had refilled her drinks multiple times and was feeling a bit dazed. She found herself in the living room looking around to see Peter sitting uncomfortably next to a couple choking on each other’s tongue.

“Peter! Dance with me!” before Peter could even protest or say no (Y/N) was dragging him towards the middle of the living room facing her back toward’s his chest and began to grind lightly.

Peter didn’t know what to do with his hands, he had only two drinks that he filled with just sprite. “Don’t be afraid to touch me Peter.” holy fucking shit, this has got to be a dream. (Y/N), the girl he’s had a crush on since freshmen year.

“(Y/N)! Peter! Come join us, we’re playing truth or dare!” Vivian spoke pulling (Y/N) away from Peter who followed closely behind the two, the room was filled with most of the frat boys and their girlfriends or soon to be one night stand.

This is going to be interesting.

“Okay (Y/N) truth or dare?” Vivian slurred as Peter looked over at (Y/N) “Truth.” she mumbled taking a shot. The spin to this truth or dare was, take a shot if you choose truth.

“Why is spider-man your favorite avenger?”

(Y/N) glanced at Peter with a small smirk tugging at her smudged red lips, “Honestly, he’s just so hot. I mean, I haven’t seen how he looks like under the mask but I know he’s hot. His body? Man works out, and I’d let him shoot me with his web-shooter any day. He could web me up and I’d thank him for it. Overall though, he’s all about community and he’s sweet.”

Peter blinked a few times, allowing whatever had came out of (Y/N) mouth to slowly sink in. Did she really just say, she’d let him shoot her with his web-shooter? Or, he could web her up and she’d thank him for it?

“Parker!”

Vivian called causing Peter to shake off the thoughts that were filling his head, “Huh? Dare.” he didn’t realize he said dare, why in the hell did he say dare?

“I dare you to do seven minutes in heaven with (Y/N).”

Peter closed the door behind him finding the light switch, maybe choosing dare wasn’t so bad right?

“Did you see Alex’s face? He seemed jealous.” (Y/N) snickered wrapping her arms around her chest looking anywhere but Peter, she was sobering up a little. Since now she’s standing in the closet with Peter aka Spider-man who she just went on about what she’d want him to do.

“So was it true?” Peter questioned leaning against the door with his brows raised.

“I mean, yeah.” (Y/N) shrugged glancing up at Peter then back at the floor, he didn’t know what came over him maybe it was from the help of liquid courage.

“Why don’t I show you how I can treat you right? Make Alex even more jealous?” (Y/N) looked up at Peter in any slight movement she could kiss him, she nodded eagerly jumping into Peter’s arms wrapping her arms around his neck.

She pulled him closer her chest flushed against his as he pushed her up against the wall trailing wet kisses down her jaw and to her neck. Peter leaned back gripping the hem of her shirt to rip it in half, “Peter!” (Y/N) squealed her black laced bra was now on full display.

“So beautiful, let me guess your underwear matches?” he set her down at her feet before hiking both of her legs over his shoulder dragging her underwear down her tanned legs.

“Hm, you tell me.”

Peter kissed her inner thigh lightly moving closer and closer to her entrance, “If you can get me to cum in whatever time we have left. We can ditch this party and you can take it from there.” challenge accepted.

He kissed her clit lightly before sucking on it causing a loud moan to slip past (Y/N) lips she hiked up her skirt more wanting to see Peter’s face, his glasses were beginning to fog up.

How cute.

He teased her entrance watching as (Y/N) breathing became heavy “Peter please.” he pulled away looking up at her with a smirk “Please what?” she groaned, he knew what she wanted, she just needed to ask for it properly.

“Use your finger’s and your mouth please.”

And that’s what he did.

Slipping in two fingers pumping it in and out slowly and reattaching his lips to her clip watching her in pure bliss moaning his name for everyone to hear, he curled them lightly brushing against the certain spot that would get her going.

“Peter! Please, please make me cum.” he moaned against her clit, god this is what he’s been waiting for. This is what he’s wanted to do for the longest time.

(Y/N) glanced down at Peter moaning as she ran her fingers through his curly brunette locks tugging every time he hit a certain spot clenching around his fingers. Peter could feel the heels of her shoe digging into his back as she clenched her thighs together.

“C’mon (Y/N), be a good girl and cum for me, maybe I’ll web you up.”

She moaned at the thought of Peter using his web-shooter’s on her, she felt the knot in her tighten reaching her climax as she screamed Peter’s name. Everyone else outside the room looked around with a shocked expression written on their face.

All she could see was white splotches, Peter helped her ride out her orgasm pulling out his fingers then helped her stand upright fixing her skirt for her. (Y/N) grabbed his wrist and sucked on his fingers that were covered with her juices, “holy fuck that’s hot” Peter thought to himself as he leaned down to capture her lips once more.

He removed his hoodie and placed it over her head due to ripping her shirt earlier, the door began to creek open I guess their time was done. Peter intwined (Y/N) hand’s with his pushing his glasses back up his nose bridge, his lips were a bit red and lightly swollen (Y/N) found it to be quite hot.

“So.. we’re gonna go.” Peter announced as he headed for the door, (Y/N) waved Vivian goodbye before rushing Peter out the house and back to their dorm.

Coming to this party wasn’t so bad after all.

#peter parker #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #college!peter parker #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n

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bapydemonprincess · 5 years

Note

“I thought I almost lost you.” With Sebagni because that last one needed to be continued! :D

It had been only a couple days since the Khansama had miraculously survived his gruesome assault at the London house, but being bedridden and barely able to even sit up with all the wounds still slowly healing in his back, it felt like so so much longer. He lost track of the days. The hours. The minutes. It almost started to sour the khansama’s once kind and tender persona, rotting it and making it black and grim..

Of course he would never speak these thoughts, even to his dear friend who had been at his side every day and almost every hour of every day. Despite the mood, he still had his belief in being polite and good to those who deserved it.

Oh, and Sebastian Michaelis most definitely deserved it.

He would have bled out, he would’ve been lost forever, never ever to see his prince, Sebastian, to see the world and everything in it if not for the English servant.

So he owed him all of the kindness he did have left.

And would just simmer and keep all the gloom back.

This also meant he was still constantly tired, and so slept so much more now than he ever used to, even when he’d had the ability, the option to sleep as much as he wanted back in that old life. To laze about like a big fat, spoiled child.

But Sebastian reminded him when he’d try extra hard to wake up and get up more that “You need to rest as much as you can, Agni. Your body needs you to do this. Please.”

And he’d also never heard Sebastian plead with anyone before, but it was honest and truly a firm request. So how could he deny that, and from his dearest friend whom AGAIN he owed his life to.

But all this sleeping.. it wore him down, instead. Added to the darkness simmering.

He soon found himself curling away from the door, from any visitors, even if he was supposed to stay lying straight, and just pretended to sleep.

One time while doing this, Sebastian came quietly in, and soon Agni heard the man pouring something, likely refilling his glass of water that was always at the bed side.

But after that, he didn’t hear the butler walk away to leave him to rest in peace, like he usually did when Agni did sleep. No, this time, he heard the soft creek of someone sitting down.

And then.. nothing.

Agni mentally sighed. Now with Sebastian staying in the room, pretending to sleep would be extra hard..

“... I thought I almost lost you, Agni.”

The voice of Sebastian Michaelis hung in the air, though it held no power... it was surprisingly soft, and sounded careful-like.

Agni wasn’t sure if it was because the man was trying not to wake him or..

“I honestly haven’t the faintest idea what I would’ve done if... if you had passed. I have seen millions upon millions of souls die, but, I... I...”

The pause was longer, and there was a noise like someone breathing.. a gasp, almost. But it was so faint. The quietest gasp, the saddest gasp, Agni had ever heard.

“...I have never grieved for one.”

Suddenly, Agni’s chest was hurting almost as much as the stab wounds used to.

He still remained quiet, still remained completely still, but now for more than just to fake his slumber. He felt the need to... allow Sebastian this moment on his own. As if he knew instinctively that the man needed it.

There were soft huffs of breath in the quiet room, lingering, sounding shaken, and very... fragile.

And Agni remained in his fake sleep position still, though a part of him was growing. A part that wanted to turn, to leap, to HOLD!

“Dammit..” The butler was choking out, sounding like there was some anger getting mixed up in everything else. “God.. damn it.” The last part sounding gritted through teeth.

“... Sebastian?” Agni finally spoke, as he just could not take it any longer.

He tried his best to roll back over and face him, and instantly, the man was up, and trying to reach out and help the injured khansama in his time of need.

“I- I am here, Agni. I am so sorry for.. bothering you.” Sebastian was quickly telling him, his words rushed and soft, as if trying to hush and calm the other man.. when he was the one who nearly sounded to be in shambles now, and when Agni could look into his face, there was proof even if barely, as those gleaming red eyes were not gleaming in the same way they always had.

“No, no you were not, my.. my dear friend.” Agni said, staring up at Sebastian Michaelis and unable to look away now even for a second. “You most certainly were not bothering me. Nor will you ever.”

“Ah-” Sebastian straightened and smiled, quickly putting a fist to his lips and clearing his throat. A unique color blossomed in his high cheeks then, a pink Agni had only seen before in the soft petals of cherry blossoms. “But I am sorry all the same. I merely came to.. refill your glass. That is all. I will leave you to your rest now.” And he began to turn away.

“Sebastian, don’t!” Agni called out immediately, shooting out a hand. “Please.. don’t leave.”

The butler only turned slightly back, that.. strange new hesitance shining through that Agni was sure had never been there before.

“But.. you need your rest, Agni. More so now than-”

“I don’t want to sleep, Sebastian.”

And suddenly that aggressive blackness was peeking out. Even if only a second or two... before Agni simmered.. and breathed.

“I do want to get better, and I know perfectly well that it will take lots of time, but..” He looked up into Sebastian’s face imploringly. “Please, as my dearest friend, help me heal in more ways than this.”

Sebastian stared at the Khansama in the bed. They stared at each other a very long time, it seemed. As if silently saying more than they had outloud.

I am merely one hell of a butler to the earl phantomhive, I am only doing my job...

You are more than this and I know it, and I need it. I heard you just now. I heard you finally letting that side of you show. Please. Please Sebastian..

You do not know what you are asking.. I do not know what you asking...

Yes you do.

....

“Well...” Sebastian finally spoke aloud, and took a deep breath in, and then out. Almost like a sigh, but also as if he was preparing himself. “I could try to look into some types of healing that would help you get to move more; get out of bed. Gradually. Very, very slowly. And then begin walking and stretching so your form can improve, and...” the man’s lips started to turn up.. “You can return to all your former glory.”

Agni finally let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d started holding at one point.

“... Thank you, Sebastian. Thank you so much.” He reached out, one hand lifting and opening.

Sebastian hesitated... before reaching out with his hand too, expecting to officialize this plan with a handshake or some such.

He was definitely not prepared for Agni to pull on his hand, pull him closer, and then lift Sebastian’s gloved hand to his lips, kissing it so tenderly. Eyes closing and mouth moving over white clothed knuckles.

Sebastian was mute. He could not speak. He was sure he wouldn’t be able to for a good while as the image remained in his mind of this human.. this single human being... kissing a demon’s hand as if in worship.

And all after he’d just come in to check on him, to find Agni turned away in a familiar position of not wanting anyone or anything near, clearly faking sleep even, and decided (stupidly, he now assumed) it would be a good chance to pretend Agni was asleep as he confessed to something he had been feeling so strongly for the passed few days that it had tortured and gnawed at him.

“Think nothing of it, Agni.” He finally managed. “If I couldn’t do this much for.. you, my only friend, then.. what kind of person would I be?”

#Kuroshitsuji #Sebastian Michaelis #Agni #drabble #my writing #sebagni #thank you for the prompt!!#hope you like!#as well as everyone else cause I'm queuing this up to post sometime when I'm at work tomorrow #XD #Anonymous

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uas-fics · 6 years

Text

Title: Sleeping Like Adults

Rating: T

Summary: For the first time in four years, Craig and Tweek get to sleep in the same room!

Ships: Creek with a few other minor ships

Other: For @thefabutrash for the @creekcrew‘s Secreek Santa event. I hope you like it! Happy Holidays! =D

Check the first reblog for the AO3 link

~~~~~~

Craig Tucker had never fancied himself a genius before, but as he plopped down in the back of the bus, he couldn't imagine himself anything less.

He pulled his bag into his lap, just to make sure he brought everything with him: toothbrush, pajamas, cell phone charger, a change of clothes, and most importantly, a new pack of correction tape and an ink pen.

Clyde slid into the seat next to him. He waited until the chaperone finished roll call and sat down before elbowing Clyde in the ribs.

"Did you get it?" Craig asked as the bus started forward.

Of course, Clyde got it. Why was Craig even asking? Clyde was his bro, helping bros share rooms with their boyfriends is part of the Bro Code, and Clyde swore by the Bro Code. There was no way Clyde didn’t get it!

Since Clyde's dad was the chaperone of their club trip, it would be super easy for him to get the rooming list. All Craig had to do was white out his roommate’s name and change their name to Tweek's! Once all was said an done, Clyde could just say he accidentally grabbed the sheet when they got to the hotel.

It was perfect!

Clyde laughed nervously, scratching his neck. "Ok, so, about that. I don't have it."

"What? Clyde, dude, that was your one job!" Craig cried. He looked around, hoping no one heard his outburst. If anyone did, they didn’t seem to care.

"I know, I know, but Dad didn't have the class list printed out." Clyde shook his head. "He has it on his phone -- Google Docs, I think."

Craig groaned, slumping back in the faux leather bus seat. "That was my only chance, Clyde!"

"I don't get why this is such a big deal, dude. You and Tweek have sleepovers all the time." Clyde took his phone from his pocket. "How's a hotel any different than the ones at your house?"

"It's different because our parents aren't there." Craig leaned his shoulder into the window. "Whenever we have a sleepover, our parents go out of their way to make sure we don't actually sleep in the same room anymore."

"Wow, really?"

"Yeah, I have to sleep in Tweek's guest room and Tweek has to sleep on the couch." Craig shut his eyes as his goal fell out of reach.

He and his boyfriend hadn't been allowed to sleep in the same room overnight since they were eleven, nearly four years ago. It didn't help the matter that both their parents were strict on them keeping the door open when they were together, either.

Clyde set a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'm really sorry, dude. Unless we can get my dad's phone, there is no way to change it."

Craig's eyes snapped open. He bolted up as Clyde continued, "Maybe next time we have a group sleepover at my house, you and Tweek can bum it in the guest room and--"

Craig slapped a hand over Clyde's mouth.

"Clyde, that's it." A sly grin spread across his face. "That's it! Help me get your dad's phone. If the document is on Google Docs, maybe I can edit it!"

The color drained from Clyde's face.

"What?!" He choked out. "Dude, I can't do that. It's not a piece of paper. It's my dad's phone! If I take it and mess with it, he'd kill me!"

Craig took hold of Clyde's arm in an iron grip. He fixed his unwavering gaze with Clyde's uneasy one.

"If you help me do this, I'll take the fall if we get caught," He promised. With a squeeze, Craig added, "And I'll let you have my dessert at lunch for the rest of the year."

Clyde squirmed in his seat and bit his lip. He looked away then groaned.

"Fine!" Clyde relented. "Fine, fine, fine! How do you plan on doing it?"

The moment Craig dropped his hand, Clyde started to rub his arm. It probably wasn't going to bruise, and even if it did, Clyde was still getting the better end of this deal. Everyone loved the brownies they got on Thursdays with their corn dogs.

"It's simple. The ride to the hotel is four hours, right? Go up to your dad at the first rest stop and ask if you can play on his phone. Just make something up, like yours ran out of battery,” Craig explained.

"How do you know he'll give me his phone?" Clyde asked, looking down at his smartphone.

"No offense, Clyde, but your dad is kind of a pushover." Craig resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "If you pout like you always do, he'll let you borrow it. I'm sure."

"I don't pout," Clyde snapped. "I'm way too manly to pout."

Craig didn't try to correct any of the lies in that statement. Instead, he leaned back into the seat with a smirk.

Yes, for sure, Craig Tucker was a genius.

~~~~~

"Now, kids, settle down!" Mr. Donovan called over the shouting and yelling of the robotics club. He had to yell a few more times before everyone quieted enough that he could be heard.

Mr. Donovan pushed his glasses up. "Alright, kids, as you know the gardening club is also going to the museum this weekend, and since Kevin got on the wrong bus, we're going to wait at the rest stop for a few minutes so the garden club's bus can swing by and drop him off."

A few of the students groaned. Craig couldn't entirely blame them. The trip was already long and boring, waiting at a rest stop only prolonged the suffering.

The teacher sponsor of the robotics club pushed himself from his seat and sent a glare over the student, silencing any protests.

Mr. Donovan nodded approvingly. "Alright, now, everyone file out to use the restroom and stretch your legs."

Moments later, the robotics club had shuffled off the bus. Craig lifted himself up on his toes as he stretched.

"Ok, you ready?" Craig asked.

Clyde rolled his eyes. "Can a guy pee first?"

"No," Craig deadpanned. He reached into Clyde's jacket pocket and took his phone.

Ignoring Clyde's protests of "Hey! What the fuck?", Craig took the phone out of its case then turned it over to pull the back off. He pried out the battery before pocketing it.

As he reassembled the phone, he explained, "If your dad needs proof, you can press and hold the power button without it turning back on."

Clyde scrunched up his face as he took his phone back. "Fiiiiine." Spinning on his heels, he headed towards his dad.

Craig took a few steps towards a bench to casually sit and watch as his amazing plan came to fruition.

Mr. Donovan's head went up when Clyde called his name. He gave his full attention to his son while Clyde held up his phone and pointed.

Craig's heart skipped a beat when Mr. Donovan reached for the phone. If Mr. Donovan held Clyde's phone, he would feel the weight difference. Luckily, by some miracle, he stopped before he could touch it.

They talked for another few minutes before Clyde returned with a solemn look on his face.

"He says I'm just out of luck, and he'll look at it at the hotel." Clyde shook his head.

"Fuck!" Craig clenched his fists. "We have to get that phone, Clyde! Just let me think a minute..."

"Dude, maybe you should just give it up." Clyde shrugged. "Like I told you, next sleepover at my house, you can--"

Craig jumped to his feet, eyes sparkling. Plan A never works. That's just facts. Plan B, though, Plan B would be perfect!

He dug around in his pockets then held the contents in his palm. Craig flicked the pocket lint out of the pile then shoved the ink pen behind his ear.

He turned over the pack of Fruit Stripe gum he stole from his sister. With his braces, he technically wasn't supposed to chew this type of gum, but what his orthodontist didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

Shoving the gum and the phone battery into Clyde's hands, Craig began to count his change out.

Disregarding the pennies, he had a grand total of fifty-five cents.

"Clyde, give me a dollar." Craig made a gimme motion with his hand.

"What? No! You have a wallet on the bus," Clyde said but took out his wallet anyway. He fished out a one dollar bill, which Craig snatched.

Without a word to Clyde, he dashed towards the vending machines. Of course, there was a line.

Craig tapped his foot impatiently as some sophomores he didn't know jabbered on about something he didn't care about.

What was taking them so long to buy a soda? Every second they wasted talking, was a second less Craig had for his plan! Didn't they know that the gardening club bus would be here soon?

A bottle made a thunking sound when it fell. Craig took a step forward, only for one of them to feed another dollar into the machine.

Craig and Tweek weren't in any of the same clubs this year. The pure coincidence that the science museum would hold both an exhibition on space age robotics and sustainable farming was a blessing from God that Craig didn't want to waste!

When he was only ten seconds away from pushing the sophomores out of the way, they finished. Still animatedly talking, they walked away with an arm full of soda each.

Craig rolled his eyes. "Finally." He muttered, just loud enough for the sophomore he was passing to hear. She shot him a dirty look, and Craig flipped her off. The sophomore scoffed but didn't try to pick a fight.

After smoothing out the dollar on the side of the machine a few times, Craig fed Washington’s visage into the dollar slot and pressed the Coke option.

Sold out.

Any of the drinks would work, so long as they were sticky and sugary, so he pressed the Diet Coke.

Sold Out.

Pepsi.

Sold out.

Diet Pepsi. Sprite. Double Dew.

Sold out. Sold out. Sold out.

The only option he had left was Gatorade and water.

Cursing those sophomores with every fiber of his being, Craig pressed the Gatorade option. This was the last drink that had sugar in it.

He braced himself, waiting.

Th-thunk!

A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he knelt down to retrieve the cherry sports drink.

When he returned to Clyde, Craig had already cracked open the drink and chugged some of it.

Clyde frowned. "Not to poke holes in whatever your plan is, but I doubt electrolytes are going to help."

"It's not the electrolytes I need," Craig smirked. "I'm going to walk over and then 'accidentally' trip and spill this all over your dad's pants."

"You're going to what?" Clyde cried, only for Craig to elbow him in the stomach. He doubled over, clenching his middle.

"Quiet! Look, all you need to do is steal your dad's pants when he's changing them. It'll be easy."

Clyde looked up from his bent over position. "This is not a good plan, Craig!"

"Are you my bro or aren't you?" Craig narrowed his eyes.

After a heartbeat, Clyde muttered, "I'm your bro..."

"Good, now get ready." Craig nodded sharply. Clyde flashed a thumbs up before hobbling over to sit on the bench.

With a breath, Craig started towards Mr. Donovan. Luckily for him, Mr. Donovan was distracted, chatting with the teacher.

Honestly, this should have been Plan A. What was he even thinking with the original Plan A? Of course, Mr. Donovan wasn't going to give up his phone because Clyde's ‘broke’! Even if he did, he would have probably logged off all his apps.

Someone hip checked Craig, sending him stumbling to the side. The bottle fell from his hands. The rest of the liquid spilled over the concrete.

Craig stared, flabbergasted, as his Plan B flowed down a crack in the sidewalk towards the grass.

Someone snickered. Craig spun around, ready to fight. The sophomore he'd flipped off smirked at him before heading towards the rest of her friends.

Shaking, Craig took a step towards her. He was not above starting a fight in the middle of the public rest area.

Clyde came up then and caught his arm.

"Not worth it, dude," He said with a shake of the head.

"Fuck me!" Craig groaned. "Clyde, another dollar. Let me try again--"

The gardening club's bus pulled up before Clyde could pull out his wallet.

Clyde patted his back reassuringly.

"Sorry, man," He offered softly.

"Yeah," Craig heaved a sigh then straighten up. He shoved his disappointment down as he began to scan the crowd of garden club kids for his favorite shock of blond hair.

He spotted him hanging around Token. Before his club was called to their bus, he and Clyde hurried over.

"You can explain it all you want, I still don't get it." Token was saying.

"No, like, dude, agroforestry isn't hard; it's--Craig!" Tweek cut himself off, smiling.

"Hey, honey," Craig greeted, pulling Tweek into a half-hug. Tweek snaked his arm around Craig's waist and leaned against him as Craig held his fist out for Token, who bumped it.

"Hey, dudes," Token nodded to him and Clyde.

"Having fun learning about dirt?" Clyde teased. "This is what you get for being so whipped by your girlfriend."

Token rolled his eyes, but he didn't have a counter to that. The only reason he joined Garden Club was because Nichole asked him to.

From what Tweek had said, Token's thumb was 'averagely green'. Though he could tend to plants, he didn't care about doing it and spent most of his time sitting around or organizing the supplies.

"Clyde, how many times have you been on Bebe's beck and call during volleyball practice?" Craig snorted. He pitched up his voice to mock, "'Bring me my water, Clyde. Can you get my towel for me, sweetie? Go grab the ball, baby!'"

Token laughed into his hand while Clyde's face went red. Craig felt Tweek's shoulder shake in laughter just a little under his arm.

"Oh, screw you," Clyde snapped. "I'm going to find Kevin." With that, Clyde spun around to search the rest of the crowd.

"How's your ride going?" Tweek asked when Clyde disappeared.

"Boring," Craig admitted.

"We had a kid throw up," Token commented. "That's why we're late. We had to turn around, take him home, and get a new bus."

Craig cringed. "That's really gross."

"It kind of worked out, since we were able to pick up Kevin." Tweek pointed out.

The trio chatted for a few more minutes before Mr. Donovan called Craig’s name. "Craig, come get back on the bus. I need to do a headcount." He shouted.

Tweek pulled himself from Craig's side. "See you at the hotel, Craig." Tweek pressed a kiss to Craig's cheek.

Reminded of the hotel and their separate rooming, Craig fought to keep himself from deflating.

"Yeah, see you there." He waved before heading back towards his bus. As he crawled on and made his way towards the back seat, he noticed that sophomore girl sitting near the front. Her bag was half in the aisle.

With a smirk, Craig purposely stepped down hard on it. He heard a pencil snap but kept walking anyway. As tempting as it was to see if she noticed, he couldn't risk it looking like he did it intentionally.

He sat back down, leaning to look sullenly out the window until the rest of the bus hustled on, except for Clyde. Craig eyed the empty seat next to him with a frown. He hadn't hurt Clyde's ego that much, had he?

"Ok, roll call!" Mr. Donovan said, clearly not noticing his son wasn't on board. He patted his pockets. "Oh, uh, where is it?" Turning out his pockets, he furrowed his brow.

"Hey, kids," Mr. Donovan raised his voice. "Has anyone seen my phone? I swear I had--"

"Here it is, Dad!" Clyde held up Mr. Donovan's phone as he and Kevin climbed up the steps. "You left it on the bench outside."

"Oh, thank you, Clyde." His dad nodded, taking the phone.

Craig stared at Clyde with wide eyes as he came down the aisle to sit.

Clyde smiled proudly, reminding Craig of a puppy wishing to be praised.

"Who's your bro?"

"You are. You’re the best fucking bro ever!" Craig put his hand on Clyde's shoulder and shook him.

So what if Plan A failed, and Plan B was doomed before it could start?

Craig could always count on Plan Clyde to make it through to the end!

~~~~

Of the brilliant ideas Tweek had ever had, drinking an entire gallon of Arizona sweet tea on the two hour ride was not one of them.

Honestly, the whole idea of bringing the jug of tea instead of his thermos of coffee had been on his dad’s prompting that Tweek should ‘slow down’ on the coffee drinking. His parents claimed it was ‘for his health,’ but Tweek knew that was a lie.

They still hadn’t gotten over Tweek using some of their special roast last week. He didn’t even get to drink any before they saw him making it and got mad!

That was how Tweek ended up with a gallon of tea instead — a gallon he’d absentmindedly down not even halfway to the rest stop.

He had been sitting on a bladder that was about to burst for the last hour. Then when they did finally stop, Craig tracked him down before he could make it to the restroom.

The whole time they were talking with Token and Clyde, Tweek felt his eyes floating a little higher. He nearly shouted out in relief when Mr. Donovan called Craig back to his bus.

Tweek washed his hands in the rest stop sink. The whole place smelled a little too strongly of cheap soap and lemon cleaner. Something that strong smelling could only be covering up something that smelled even worse.

Tweek had little desire to find out what that smell was, so he forwent drying his hands to instead hurry out the door.

He nearly barreled into Kevin.

"Oh, sorry, Tweek!" Kevin said as he bobbed around him into the restroom.

Standing just outside the door, Clyde leaned against the wall, playing on a phone, but not his own. Clyde's phone case had glittery football and baseball stickers Bebe put on it. The one he had was just plain silver.

"Clyde?" Tweek turned his head a bit to the side.

Clyde jumped. "Ah, Tweek, hey, man, what's up?"

"Shouldn't you be heading towards your bus?" Tweek asked.

"Yeah, just waiting for Kevin." Clyde shoved the phone into his pocket. "He didn't have fifteen minutes to dick around like we had."

It had been a stroke of luck that right as they returned to the bus barn at the high school, Kevin's mom pulled up. Apparently, he overslept.

"Oh, right, I guess that's true." Tweek nodded.

Clyde twiddled with his thumbs a moment, humming to himself. He held back a smile, and that made Tweek uneasy.

"What?" Tweek wrung his hands in his shirt.

Clyde was about to burst when he finally blurted out, "You and Craig share a room at the hotel!"

"W-what?!" Tweek choked on the word.

"Yeah, dude. I guess the teachers didn't know you were boyfriends or something." He cheekily elbowed him in the ribs. "Lucky duck, aren't you?"

Before Tweek could reply, Kevin exited the restroom.

"Come on, Clyde, we have to hurry back to the bus." Kevin grabbed Clyde's arm.

"Right." Clyde nodded. To Tweek, he teased, "Don't have too much fun later tonight." He punctuated his tease with a wink before letting Kevin drag him towards the bus.

Tweek watched, suddenly frozen to the ground, as Kevin and Clyde made their way to their bus.

The bus rumbled to life, the door shut, and pulled out of the parking lot before Tweek melted. The moment he could move his feet again, he dashed across the grass to the playground.

Nichole sat at the top of a jungle gym that was much too small for a high school student while Token leaned against it.

Tweek wasted no time darting up to Token, grabbing his shoulders, and screaming into his chest.

"Holy shit, Token! Shit, shit, shit, shitshitshitshit!" Tweek panted. His eyes darted around in panic.

"W-Wow, Tweek, dude," Token furrowed his brows, "calm down."

Tweek turned a quick glare towards him. Token knew fully well that telling him to 'calm down' didn't help! It just made Tweek realize how much he was panicking more than before!

Nichole slid off the jungle gym. She set a hand on Tweek's shoulders.

"Hey, what's wrong?" She asked.

"Clyde, He--!! The teachers fucked up, and, and, and!" Tweek grabbed his hair. "The teachers assigned Craig and me to the same room!"

Token's eyebrows shot up. "Really? Lucky." He turned a flirty smile to Nichole. "Think they messed up with us, too?"

Nichole rolled her eyes, clearly unamused, and turned her attention back to Tweek.

"If that makes you uncomfortable, you can ask a teacher to change it, Tweek," She offered. "Or why not tell Craig you're not ok with it?"

"That's the thing!" Tweek squeezed his voice out through his clenched throat. "I'm not uncomfortable with it. I'm totally fine with sleeping in the same room as him."

Token crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "Then why are you freaking out? It's not excitement. I know that much."

Tweek began to fiddle with his buttons. This was embarrassing! Why did the teachers have to do this to him? Did the robotic club teacher hate him that much? Or was it his teacher sponsor?

He swallowed the lump in his throat before looking around. There was no one in earshot, but he gestured everyone to move closer anyway.

"You can't tell anyone. Promise, on your l-lives," Tweek held out both his pinkies as added insurance. Token and Nichole each wrapped a pinkie around his and shook on it.

"We won't tell. What is it?" Nichole prompted.

"It's just, well, Craig and I, we haven't slept in the same room since we were little kids!" Tweek almost smiled at the memories of late night fart sounds and bad jokes. "That's the thing though: we were little kids. Craig's getting his full driver's license next year and my parents have hired me for real at the shop. We're adults."

Tweek chewed his lip a moment. "It's different now, and, uh, I-I want it to be different, you know? It's not just another kiddie, platonic sleep over anymore."

Nichole clasped her hands over her heart. "Oh, Tweek, that's so sweet and romantic!"

Token snorted a chuckle. "Wait, so you want to sleep sleep with Craig? Like sex? On a school trip? Tweek, you wild animal."

Red painted Tweek's face. He sputtered before finding his words. "No! No! No! No! I don't mean it like that! I mean--"

Nichole gently shoved Token's shoulder. He took a step to the side, more to humor her than succumbing to her strength.

"No, he means he wants to sleep in the same bed as Craig like adults do, like our parents do." She smiled at Tweek. "Right?"

"Y-yes! That's what I mean," He nodded, then pointed to Token. "I'm worried that Craig will take it like Token did if I ask though. I don't want him to think I'm a pervert or a creep."

"He's not going to think that, Tweek." Token shook his head. "If he does, just explain it to him."

"Then he'll think I changed my story when I made him uncomfortable, which will make it even more uncomfortable."

Tweek winced at the thought. He couldn't have 'sex-crazed' add to the list of adjectives he knew Craig thought of him as.

It took him months to remove 'musophobe' from that list when Tweek shrieked after a mouse ran across his toes in Craig's basement. It wasn't even fair to claim he's afraid of mice. It was a big mouse and ran across his bare feet! Anyone would scream.

Nichole screwed her face up in thought. "Then why don't you make it where he asks you?" Her eyes sparkled. "Yeah, do that!"

"How?" Both Tweek and Token asked. The former in a tone of interest and the latter in a tone of dubiousness.

She shrugged. "I don't know, um...drop the temperature? If it's cold in your room, he might ask to snuggle in bed, and if you two just so happen to fall asleep, well, that's just how it goes, right?"

Token shook his head. "Nichole, you have to know how silly--"

"That's perfect!" Tweek grabbed her shoulders before pulling her into a hug. "Nichole, you're so smart!"

She patted his back and nodded contently. "Thank you."

Token opened his mouth, then shut it, shaking his head without a word.

~~~~~

Tweek was excited now that he had a plan of attack. When they got back on the bus, he and Nichole brained stormed more ideas to freeze Craig into Tweek's arms.

First, he would see how low he could get the thermostat to go. Since the plan for dinner was to walk across the street from the hotel to the buffet, the room would have plenty of time to get nice and chilly. If Tweek made sure to get back to the room first, he could turn it back up to normal temperature. He'd shut the vents after that, so no warm air could get in.

Then it would be romantic snuggling the rest of the night!

If all else failed, he still had that gallon bottle from his tea. All he needed to do was refill it when they got there. If it 'accidentally' spilled on one of their beds later that night, the other would undoubtedly be a gentleman and offer to share the remaining bed.

It was a foolproof plan!

A half hour to the hotel, Tweek's phone buzzed.

"We're in the same room at the hotel," Craig wrote. "If the teacher asks, we had a fight and broke up. act bitter about it, otherwise, they might separate us."

Tweek frowned. Clyde told him the teachers forgot they were dating. Why would they remember now? Unless one of the other students ratted them out. He could see that.

Some of the girls in the robotics club gave the kind of vibe like they would throw anyone to the lions at the first chance.

"What did we fight about this time?" Tweek texted back. "Was it 'Michael' again?" He smiled to himself, ending the text with a wink emote.

A moment later, Craig replied, "If you don't let that die, then we really will have a fight." His text ended with three fist emoji. Before Tweek could even open his keyboard, another message came.

This one said, "jk jk. idk. something that doesn't make me look like a dick this time. why don't we fight over stripe? you're being a bad dad and overfeeding him or something."

Tweek didn't like the idea of this fake fight painting him as a bad pet parent, but considering Craig still got flack over their fight in fourth grade, maybe it was only fair.

"ok. I'm letting Token and Nichole know though. Love you!" Tweek tried to look annoyed as he sent a string of kiss faces and hearts. If there was one thing Tweek had become really good at since he and Craig started dating, it was acting.

He huffed, throwing his hand up in the air.

"That bastard!" Tweek cried out just loud enough the other club members around him would hear, but not the teacher.

"How dare he!" Tweek continued, leaning across the aisle to Token. "Look at what Craig said! Me? A bad pet parent! I'm the fucking best parent Stripe has!"

Token raised an eyebrow but took the phone. He rolled his eyes, turning the screen enough for Nichole to read. Nichole chuckled but sent Tweek a small nod. She would play along with this.

"Fuck him! We're through!" Tweek took his phone back. "How do you change your relationship status on Facebook? Under ‘about’ right? I'm not letting him say those things about me."

The other students turned in their seat or scooted closer to the aisle. Gossip hounds, most of them. Usually, Tweek couldn't stand his personal info getting around like this, but the grapevine of whispers would reach up to the teacher and chaperone faster this way.

Craig had already started vague posting about him.

Along with a picture of a fat, plushy guinea pig, Craig posted, "This is what SOME PEOPLE think a guinea pig should look like! Rolly polly and one treat from a heart attack! #badpetparent"

It took all of Tweek's composure not to laugh. Between the two of them, Craig was the one who usually gave Stripe one too many treats.

For the rest of the bus ride, Craig and Tweek made snide comments and jabs about the other on social media. Honestly, he was having fun with it. None of what they said to each other was particularly true, or really that bad, but the rumor mill had already worked its magic.

According to posts shown to him by Nichole and Token, Tweek had broken Craig's heart and curb stomped it by attempting to take full custody of Stripe from him. At least one tweet said they were going to court about it.

When they pulled into the parking lot of the hotel, the robotics bus was already parked. Even in the dim evening light, the antics and excitement of the other club shown through the windows. A paper airplane launched out one of the rear windows and crashed against Tweek's window.

Tweek squinted to try and make out anyone he knew, but the closest he came was thinking he saw the top of Craig's hat.

"Alright, students," the teacher clapped her hands, stealing his attention "We're all going to head to the lobby. Take your bags. I'm not walking everyone back and forth to the bus."

Tweek shouldered his backpack on and stood. When he passed the teacher on his way off the bus, she put a hand on his shoulder.

"Tweek, I want you to know if you ever need to talk, I'm here." She smiled softly. "I know how hard it is to lose a pet to careless actions."

Tweek stared at her a moment before her words clicked. "Oh! Um, thank you, ma'am." He tried to sound downtrodden.

So their 'break up' had already turned to manslaughter. Great. Crowd control was going to be a pain in the ass after all this was said and done.

The robotics club fell silent when Tweek came into the lobby. Some eyed him with distrust, and others with pity. Clyde avoided looking at him, and Craig fixed him with a faux dirty look before flipping him the bird.

Anyone who didn't know Craig well could tell there was no malice in this gesture, but Tweek pretended he was offended and threw him a middle finger right back.

Craig shoved his hands in his pocket and scowled to the side, all the while holding back a smile. Tweek thought it was simply adorable. He made a note to tell him that and watch Craig get flustered about it later.

"Alright, is everyone off the bus?" One of the teachers shouted, and the crowd of students quieted. "Alright, so, when I call your name, come up and get your room key."

She reached held her tablet to her face as she read. One by one the students walked up. There were a few groans and whines, a couple of cheers, but no one seemed too opposed to their rooming assignments.

Then the teacher called out Craig's name.

"Craig Tucker, Room 203." She held up his key. "You're rooming with...oh, um, T-Tweek Tweak."

A group gasp nearly sucked all the air from the lobby. Tweek squared his shoulders and marched up along with Craig.

Mr. Donovan and the garden club teacher exchanged looks, while the robotics teacher couldn't care less.

She started, "I don't know how they got...um--maybe we should switch them with--"

"I'm fine with it." Craig snapped, snatching a key card off the table. "Unlike some people, I am a responsible adult who is in complete control of his emotions."

"Bullshi--I mean, I am too!" Tweek grabbed the other card from the teacher. "You just stay on your side of the room, you gay jerk."

"Don't call names, Tweek. It's immature," Craig scoffed.

"It's not immature if it's all true," Tweek grumbled. Before the teacher or Mr. Donovan could reply, they both stormed off back into the crowd.

~~~~~

Tweek wasn't sure how they pulled that off, exactly, but none of the adults tried to take their keys away from them or make them switch rooms.

At this point, Tweek narrowed it down to either the adults didn't know how to deal with this situation between two men or didn't want to get dragged into their drama. Either way, Tweek wasn't going to complain.

Still scowling, Tweek unlocked their door. With a sneer in his voice, he held the door and said, "After you, Mr. Mature."

"Thank you," Craig spat back, all fake venom.

Mr. Donovan grabbed the door handle, standing between the two. He forced a nervous smile. "Um, if you boys need anything," Mr. Donovan said. "I'm in the room right next door."

"Don't worry, sir." Craig frowned. "We can handle ourselves. Or, I can anyway."

"Yeah," Tweek took a breath, "don't worry at all."

Mr. Donovan didn't look any more relaxed but nodded anyway.

The moment after Tweek shut the door then threw his bag on the bed, Craig grabbed his arm and pulled him into a hug.

"Everyone hates you now," Craig stated matter-of-factly, "for being a guinea pig murderer." He kissed his forehead.

"We'll have to post a picture together with Stripe when we get home." Tweek chuckled. "Proof of my innocence."

Craig squeezed him once, then took a step back. "I need to brush my teeth. Clyde dared me to eat a Jolly Rancher we found on the floor of the bus."

Tweek winced. "Was it completely worth it?"

Craig shrugged. "I got fifteen dollars and ten minutes picking candy out of my braces since I accidentally crunch down, so half-and-half."

"You're disgusting, Craig Tucker," Tweek teased.

Craig took his hat off and chucked it at his face. "If it hadn't been grape - flavored, you would have done it, too."

Tweek gave Craig that as truth with a slight nod before shoving his hat over his head.

When Craig left for the bathroom, Tweek dove into action. He spun around and darted towards the thermal unit under the window.

Stooping down, he fiddled with the controls. The unit wasn't complicated, so it only took a minute or two to lower the temperature setting from a cozy seventy-five to a chilly fifty.

He bounced to his feet and spun around. Twisting the tassels of Craig's hat, he wandered to the bathroom. Craig leaned over the counter to the mirror, picking at his braces. He ran his tongue over his front teeth before sticking his mouth under the faucet to take a drink.

"Get it all?" Tweek asked.

Craig held up a finger as he swished the water around in his mouth then spit.

"Probably not, but at least my mouth doesn't taste like bus floor anymore." He held out his hand. "Gimme back my hat."

Tweek reached up to pull the hat from his head. A smirk played on his lips, and he strode forward and threw it on Craig's head. With a tug, he pulled him down to press a kiss to his lips.

Craig chuckled. "Damn, hope we get over this fight soon."

~~~~~

The buffet was nothing special, just an average all you can eat joint. On their second trip up, Clyde loaded up on more enchiladas than could possibly be healthy, while Craig had taken a more Italian root with a plateful of pasta and pizza.

They sat together in at a table in the back with Token. From their vantage point, they could people watch and mock almost all of the other restaurant goers and had quick access to the dessert bar.

Token took one look at Clyde’s plate and rolled his eyes.

"Didn't your dad tell you to eat something healthy?" Token made a point to stab up some zucchini.

"This is plenty healthy," Clyde replied. "The sauce has tomatoes. Cheese is a dairy product. Grain in the tortilla, and chicken is protein. All the food groups are there."

Without fighting Clyde’s logic, he turned towards Craig. "Ok, so how are you and," he jerked his head towards Tweek, “doing?”

A gaggle of girls surrounded Tweek, cooing over him and comforting him, including the ones who took all the sodas earlier that day. Somehow half the girls on the trip got it in their heads the whole 'fight' was Craig's fault and Tweek was an innocent victim in it all.

Tweek himself looked incredibly uncomfortable, picking at his chicken breast. One of the girls reached out to mess with his hair and Craig tensed. Tweek didn't like people touching him for no reason, much less stroking his hair like that.

Luckily, Nichole reached up and grabbed the girl's hand with a frown. Craig made a note to thank her for that later.

He poked at his pasta without spinning the fork. "We're fine," Craig answered.

Token hummed. "Ok. Actually, can I ask you a question since you and Tweek are sharing a room?"

"Shoot." Craig took a drink of his cola.

"If Tweek offered, would you spend the night with him, like, in the same bed?" Token asked, a little too bluntly.

Craig choked on his drink. He beat his chest, panting. Clyde burst into laughter, bits of enchilada flying across the table. In response, Token crouched over his food, protecting his plate with his arms.

"Token, what the fuck, man?" Craig gasped. "Shit, dude, fuck! You can't ask stuff like that in public!"

Token shrugged, straightening back up.

Clyde wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "So is that a no? You'd just leave Tweek by himself? Guess it's a good thing you two broke up."

Craig took his fork, stabbed one of Token's zucchini slices, and dropped it on top of Clyde's enchiladas. Clyde hurried to remove the offending squash before it contaminated his meal.

Craig pointed his fork at Token. "Ok, why did you ask that?" He lowered his fork and leaned closer. "Did...Did Tweek say he wanted to do that?"

Token chuckled. "What? No. I was just wondering. You two are sharing a room, after all."

Craig reached up and tugged at his hat. He was glad it covered his ears. They were burning with embarrassment. This was not public restaurant talk. This was beanbag chair, playing video games in someone's room talk.

At least if they were in someone's room, Craig could chuck a pillow at Token and loudly tell him to fuck off.

"It's none of your business what Tweek and I do--if we were still together." Craig spun his fork in his pasta. "Which we're not because he's a huge dick and a bad parent to Stripe."

Token opened his mouth, only to have Clyde interrupt him before he started.

"Ok, ok, ok, screw Craig for a minute here. We both know the answer is 'yes', no matter what he says." Clyde reached across to grab Token's hand. "The real question is if you would say yes if I asked you." He wiggled his eyebrows.

Token snorted a laugh. "Of course, Clyde. What are best bros for?"

Clyde raised his fist up to pump it down, only to slam his elbow down on the rim of his plate. The enchiladas flew off the plate.

Red sauce, tortilla, and ground beef splattered against Craig's shirt. Out of instinct, Craig moved back, only to knock his drink forward so it splashed down onto his pants.

"Clyde!" Craig roared, holding his shirt from his body.

"Sorry!" Clyde grabbed a napkin and moved forward to wipe some of the beef off, but Craig slapped his hand down.

Without a word, Craig sulked over to the table with the teachers and chaperones. As he did, he passed the table with Tweek and all the girls. Some of the girls glared at him and some snickered. Tweek, on the other hand, looked shocked and worried.

"Hey, can I head back?" Craig interrupted whatever the teachers were saying. The adults looked up.

"What happened?" The robotics teacher asked.

"Dropped a plate," Craig muttered.

Even though it was all Clyde's fault, he didn't want to get him in trouble for screwing around. Craig would find some other way to have his revenge. For now, he'd let Clyde sweat about when his retribution would come.

Mr. Donovan scooted his chair back. "Of course, Craig. I'll walk you back over and--"

"Mr. Donovan?"

Craig looked over his shoulder to see Tweek walking up.

"Are you heading back? Can I come?" Tweek tugged at his sleeves, looking to the side. "I, uh, I forgot to take my medication this morning, and my anxiety finally caught up with me in such a crowded place."

As added emphasis, he wrapped his arms around himself and twitched.

Craig nearly reached out but stopped himself. For one, they were still 'fighting' and for two, He was pretty sure that was all a lie.

Tweek never forgot to take his medication. He had no less than three alarms to remind himself. It would not surprise Craig at all if Tweek was just using this as an excuse to get away from all the people fawning over him.

Craig caught Tweek's eye for just a second, then muttered, loud enough to be heard by the teachers, "He probably doesn't trust me not to mess with his stuff."

Tweek pretended to grit his teeth. "Please. I'm finished eating."

The adults talked for a moment before Mr. Donovan nodded. After getting a to-go box for Craig and Mr. Donovan's food, the three made their way back to the hotel.

~~~~~~

Craig tossed his shirt into the sink and turned on the hot water. He could try to scrub the sauce off with the complimentary soap but doubted it would do much. Though he liked the shirt well enough, it wasn't a favorite. So if he failed, there wouldn't be that big of a loss.

"Here."

Craig turned to see Tweek in the doorway, holding something out.

"What is it?" Craig stepped over and took it from his hand. He turned the pen-shaped object over in his palm. It was one of those Tide To-Go Pens.

A snorted laugh escaped him. He wasn't surprised at all. Tweek was the only boy Craig knew who would bring something like this with him on a school trip.

He wondered if Tweek brought a sweater with him, too. The hotel room was polar cold. Craig could probably suffer with it, but he didn’t like the idea of Tweek freezing overnight.

Hopefully he could just crank up the thermostat to remendy the situation.

"Thanks, dude," Craig said as he turned to work on the shirt. Tweek leaned against the door frame, watching with interest as Craig worked.

After a while, Craig removed as much of the stain as he could. Luckily, it wasn't too noticeable. As long as his mother never saw it, it was all good. No harm, no foul.

Holding the shirt triumphantly up, he spun around.

"Ta-da!"

Tweek snickered but indulged him with a small round of applause. Craig bobbed his head proudly in a faux bow before tossing the shirt over the towel rack to dry.

"I think I'll take a quick shower. I can still feel the soda sticking to me through my PJs," Craig announced. With a smirk, he added coyly, "Don't go messing with my stuff, got it, Mr. Tweak?"

Tweek's shoulders shook. "I'm way too mature to be that petty, Mr. Tucker."

The two burst into giggles. Tweek started to leave, but Craig followed behind him. He walked past their beds towards the window unit. When he got out of the shower, he’d rather not have all the water freeze to his body.

"Thought so," Craig muttered after crouching down. "Whoever had our room before us left this on fifty." He readjusted the temperature back up to a cozy seventy-five.

“Oh, that’s why it’s so cold?” Tweek rubbed his arm. “I hadn’t even thought to check it.”

“Yeah, well, at least we won’t turn into popsicles overnight.”

Tweek grinned at him. There was something a little off about it, but Craig didn’t comment. With how his luck was going this evening, Tweek probably figured Craig thought he was stupid for not noticing.

Craig put his hand on Tweek’s arm, over his knuckles. He explained, “It must have been programmed to kick on while we were out. I didn’t notice until we got back how cold it was.”

Tweek looked down at Craig’s hand, then up at him. He nodded then smiled. The off feeling about this smile dissolved instantly.

With a squeeze of his hand, Craig then left Tweek to take his shower.

Craig’s chest well with pride at the accomplishment as he shut the door. How many people could pacify Tweek’s worries with a few correctly-chosen and reassuring words?

Dang, did Craig like Tweek’s smile. Really, he just liked Tweek over all. Their relationship might have started on less than stellar terms, but by now, Craig had a hard time imagining his life without Tweek in it. It was asilly thought, Craig knew, but maybe they'd get married one day.

Craig stiffened as Token's question rang in his head again.

"If Tweek offered, would you spend the night with him, like, in the same bed?"

He tried to force the idea out of his thoughts but failed miserably. That was a topic he hadn't sunk too much thought into. Sex seemed like a distant concept, more of a late-night thought experiment than a something that would actually happen.

After all, it took them nearly a year and a half of dating to share the most chaste kiss ever, and Tweek still puked from nerves on Craig's shoes a second later. Sex was way too big of a leap! Even if Tweek could get over his nerves this time, Craig knew he couldn't do it.

When they were older, maybe, but...

Craig groaned, burying his face in his hands. Why did Token even ask that? Tweek had to have made him do it, right? A question like that was way too out of the blue for Token to ask it any other time!

He ran his hands through his hair before slapping them down on the sink.

If Tweek wanted to know if Craig was interested in sleeping with him, it would be best to come out in the open and say he wasn't! His boyfriend might be disappointed, but Tweek would have to just respect his decision.

Spinning on his heels, Craig marched out the door. He needed to do this before his confidence wore off.

"Tweek, we need--the fuck?"

Tweek stared at him, eyes like a deer in the headlights. In his hand, he had his jug of water held over Craig's bed. A thin trickle poured onto the covers.

"Don't be mad!" Tweek cried, pulling the jug to his chest. "I can explain, I promise!"

"Then explain. We're not really fighting! You're taking your acting too far!" Craig rushed over to tear the jug from his hands. His bed didn't look too wet. He could probably just pull the sheets off or sleep in the recliner in the corner.

"No, that's not--uh, shit, Craig--!" Tweek wrung his hands together. "Don't be mad! Don't be mad! I, I just..." His shoulders shook and his head dropped.

Craig adjusted the jug to one hand, reaching out with the other, when Tweek's head shot up and he bursted out, "Do you want to sleep with me tonight!?"

So Tweek did get Token to ask Craig! He knew it!

Craig stumbled back. His face was already feeling hot. All of the confidence Craig had seconds ago vanished into thin air when faced with the actual question.

"Tweek, we c-ca-can't!" Craig sputtered. "For one, you, we, uh, need things for that and for two I’m not comfortable with it right now! I don’t want to sleep--"

"Not like that!" Tweek's face was just as red as Craig's, if not more so. He grabbed his shoulders, shaking his head so fast that Craig worried he might break his neck.

"I don't mean it like se—urk—like making l-love," Tweek forced out. "I mean like married people. Normal sleeping, but in the same bed. Same way parents do."

Craig looked down at the jug. Tweek followed his eyes. He snatched it back, his face somehow burning even more.

"I...I wanted to force you to ask to share a bed with me," Tweek admitted. "I was going to chill you into it, but you turned the heat back up."

Craig tried to keep a straight face as Tweek explain but failed almost instantly. His shoulders scrunched and his chin fell to his chest. His cheeks puffed out as he tried to hold back his laughter.

He peeked up at Tweek. Tweek clenched his hand around the jug handle, eyes wide and confused.

"Dude, no offense, did you get this idea from a bad fanfiction?" He snorted into his hand. "Freezing me into your bed? Really? That was the best idea you could come up with before jumping straight to dumping water on my mattress?"

Tweek looked down at the jug, then back up at Craig, before a smile spread across his face. He chuckled, taking a step back to set the jug on the bedside table.

"Shit, now that you say it like that, it's a horrible idea, isn't it?" He shook his head. "At least Nichole's heart was in the right place."

"It was her idea? That explains...never mind." Craig plopped back onto the bed. He patted the seat next to him. Tweek slipped down beside him. Craig eyed the space between them then scooted closer until their sides touch.

"Sooooo, Tweek," Craig slipped his hand around behind Tweek and lean against him, "Do you wanna sleep together? Tonight? Like adults?" He got face to face with Tweek and winked.

Tweek stiffened up a heartbeat, then relaxed. Before Craig could comprehend what Tweek was doing, Tweek pressed a kiss to his lips.

"Yeah, I'd really like that."

A fond, soft feeling welled up in Craig's chest. The feeling spread through his body. He clung to it as Tweek wrapped him in a warm hug. They wouldn't even need blankets if he kept this feeling around.

“Craig, wanna look at the fallout of our ‘break up’ on Twitter?” Tweek offered after a moment. “Some of the girls at the table with me were saying some pretty out there things. Apparently, someone wants to call the FBI out on you.”

Craig glanced over his shoulder towards the bathroom door. He really should get back and take his shower, but this would only take a few minutes. They’d be done before too long.

Of course, ‘before too long’ stretched from a couple minutes to an hour of scrolling through their friends and followers’ feeds on Twitter and Facebook. Nothing could hold back their snickers and snorts as they each took turns reading the more and more outrageous ideas the rumor mill churned out.

As Craig sat in the recliner chair and Tweek laid on his bed, a knocking came from the door.

"Boys? Boys?" Mr. Donovan called through the door.

Craig scrambled out of the recliner, nearly tripping over his legs. He darted over and pushed Tweek down against the bed.

Craig hissed, "Pretend to be asleep, ok? I have a plan."

"Um, why--I mean ok?" Tweek clambered to pull the covers over his body as Craig hurried towards the door. As he passed the bathroom door, a wall of steam hit his face.

Swearing to himself, Craig darted inside and twisted the shower off. Taking a breath and smoothing out his hair, Craig unlocked the door and peeked out.

"Yes?"

"It'll be time to turn off the lights in about fifteen minutes. I'm going around giving everyone their warning." Mr. Donovan told him. He furrowed his brow, looking over Craig into the room. "Where is Tweek? Are you two alright?"

Craig's face fell into a cringe.

"Ugh, yeah, I guess. He went to sleep, like, right, when we got back. I'm going to bed after I take a shower."

"'After'? I heard the shower start a while ago." Mr. Donovan frowned.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I..." Craig wracked his brain a moment then quickly said, "I went in to wash my shirt, and when I left to go get my other shirt, Tweek slipped in and took a shower himself."

"You said he went to bed right after you two got back," Mr. Donovan pointed out.

Shit! Craig felt a sweat start across his skin.

From inside the room came the sound of a bed creaking. Tweek came up from behind Craig, a blanket covering his clothes.

"What's going on? Are we in trouble?" Tweek asked around a yawn. He sent a glare to Craig. "Was he tattling on me for taking a five minutes shower while he was trying to wash his stupid shirt? I thought he was done. I just woke back up, and showers help calm me down! He was the one who chased me out before I could turn the water off. The wasted water bill is all on him!"

Craig rolled his eyes, about to snap something back at Tweek, when Mr. Donovan interrupted.

"No, Tweek, no one is in trouble. You both have fifteen minutes before lights out, alright?"

Craig sighed internally. Thank God, Mr. Donovan seemed to have bought Tweek's lie.

"Yessir," Craig bobbed his head.

"I already was out before someone went to complain," Tweek muttered, turning on his heels and marching back towards his bed.

Mr. Donovan shook his head. "Fifteen minutes, boys." And with that, he left.

Craig shut and locked the door before slumping down, letting out his internal sigh. That was close, too close. Tweek's acting and quick thinking saved them once again.

~~~~

In the fifteen minutes before lights out, Tweek changed out of his clothes into his PJs and Craig took a quick shower to remove as much of the remaining red sauce and soda as he could. They hit the lights moments before one of the teachers made his rounds to tell everyone to go to bed.

Tweek pulled the covers up to his chin. His eyes flicked towards the digital clock on the bed stand. The plan was simple. After another fifteen minutes, he would sneak over to Craig's bed.

His stomach twisted. They were really going to do this, weren't they? Sleep in the same bed, not as platonic friends or as children, but as romantic adults.

What if he messed up? What if he rolled over and accidentally pushed Craig off the bed? What if Craig couldn't get comfortable with Tweek next to him and wasn't able to sleep?

This was just like their first kiss all over again!

No, he needed to calm down. Go to his calm mind space and breathe. It was just sleeping. It's not possible to mess up sleeping. This wasn't like the kiss where a thousand things could go wrong. He and Craig were going to snuggle up and sleep — and Tweek was not going to puke.

This was all just nervous excitement. He wanted this. He'd wanted this for a while now since he came to the conclusion that they weren't kids anymore.

This was the most adult part of a relationship they could do. This was what married people did. He and Craig skipped sex and went straight to something more deeply romantic!

As Tweek wondered how Craig thought about marriage, the fifteenth minute ticked by. The moment the digit on the clock changed, Craig shuffled around in his bed.

"Tweek, it's time," Craig whispered.

Tweek nodded, though he knew Craig couldn't see it, and began to crawl out from the covers. He padded the two steps between their beds before leaning down to grope the covers.

When he finally found the end of the blanket, he lifted it and slid under.

"Comfy?" Craig asked.

"Um, y-yeah!" Tweek rested his head against the pillow. "So, this is it, huh? Sleeping in the same bed, like adults."

"Not really," Craig replied.

"Huh? What are we doing wrong? We really like each other, and we're sleeping, together, in the same bed. That's exactly like adults do." Tweek chewed his lip. What was he forgetting?

Craig scooted closer to Tweek then rolled around so his back was towards him. Finally, he pressed his back against Tweek's front.

"Now, put your arms around me. This is how adults sleep." Craig muttered.

Tweek did as he was told and put an arm over Craig's side.

"What do I do with my other arm?" Tweek asked. "Sleep on it, or do I put it around your shoulders, or, um..." He tried to move his arm up to maneuver it under the pillow, only to clunk Craig in the head with his elbow.

As Tweek stammered apologies, Craig grunted in pain. Craig shifted away to the other side of the bed.

Tweek's heart pounded in his chest. Great! They weren't even asleep yet and he'd messed it up!

The bed groaned as Craig reached off the side for his phone. He clicked it on, nearly blinding them both, before setting it between them.

"Maybe that's a little too advanced for the first time," Craig stated flatly. "You want to just, like, sleep face-to-face?"

Tweek wished Craig's phone would turn off so his boyfriend couldn't see the embarrassment on his face as he nodded. Craig didn't look annoyed about taking a hit to the head. If anything, he looked just as apprehensive as Tweek felt. That settled some of Tweek’s nerves, at least.

Tweek smiled at him, then pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"Night, Craig." Tweek murmured against his skin.

"Um, yeah, night." Craig smiled but refused to meet Tweek's eyes as he clicked off the phone. With how brightly both their cheeks were burning, it was a wonder that the room went back to being just as dark as before.

They lapsed into silence. Nothing but the humming of the thermal unit and their breathing filled the room.

So, this was it. This was what sleeping with his boyfriend was like. He'd laid down next to Craig before, but this was different. They weren't just watching a movie or trying to finish homework. This was deep and romantic and very mature!

Tweek focused on Craig's breathing as it began to slow. No doubt Craig would be asleep soon. Would it be alright if Tweek reached out and pulled Craig to his chest while he slept? Was that allowed, or would it be weird? Maybe he could just set his hand over Craig's side again or maybe--

A pair of cold feet pressed against his ankles, and Tweek bit back a yelp. Craig's toes pinched Tweek's legs, tugging unpleasantly at his leg hair, until his feet moved until they were under Tweek.

Craig muttered contently, "Warm..."

Tweek swallowed down a sharp, "No, cold actually!" and instead just let it slide. Part of being in a mature, adult relationship was making compromises, after all.

~~~~~~

Craig's cheerful alarm woke them early the next morning. Sometime during the night, they had become a tangled mess of teenage limbs, so it took Craig a bit to snake his arm out from around Tweek.

He turned off the alarm as Tweek yawned. Before he could stop him, Tweek snuggled closer, burying his nose against Craig's chest.

"We need to get up," Craig told him.

"Nooooo," Tweek whined back. "I just got comfortable."

"You weren't comfortable the rest of the night?" Craig teased. Tweek wouldn't have fallen asleep if he didn't feel safe and comfortable. That's just how Tweek was. They both knew it.

Though, Craig was inclined to agree. Last night was one of the better nights of sleep he's had in a while. Tweek was practically a human furnace, not to mention softer than the pillows themselves. When Craig had to pee halfway through the night, he'd ran to the bathroom and back so he wouldn't miss a second of Tweek's deep, comforting breathing.

Tweek turned his head up to fix Craig with a mildly annoyed expression. "Only when you weren't trying to freeze me with your feet. I'm getting you fuzzy socks for next time, man."

Craig raised an eyebrow, smirking. "There's going to be a 'next time'?"

Tweek nodded. "Well, yeah. If you want there to be."

With a laugh, Craig wrapped his arms around Tweek, pulling him close. Of course, there would have to be a next time, and a time after that, and a time after that...

#south park #secreeksanta #creek #Craig Tucker #tweek tweak #sp creek #fanfiction #one-shot #thefabutrash

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sumbluespruce · 6 years

Photo

Choke Cherries

5-21-18 Trout Creek Trail

#original photographers #spring growth #pws #photographers on tumblr #trees #my photograph #outdoors

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dreams-for-the-apoplectic · 4 years

Text

something i will probably never finish but like enough that im posting it anyway

Bro leans in the doorway of your room,

(and you see him from your periphery: boxers loose on bony hips and patterned with hearts, no shirt, can of orange soda in hand with shades neatly tucked on the bridge of a strikingly crooked nose)

and tells you,

(over the sound of the fans, three, overclocked on some jury-rigged upgrades he threw together last year when the air conditioner went schizo cherry apeshit, just like now, again, for the second time this week spewing out mad fumes all grey-black and choked from its old, dusty vents)

that you and he should just ollie outie of this midsummer popsicle stand and move somewhere the sun don’t actively to attempt murder you in the crispiest degree, KFC style.

And you jokingly tell him sure, fuck it, anything is better than clawing my way up Fire Death Concrete Mountain aka Texas Mordor, clutching this bitchin’ ring of power and muttering all manner of rapturous obscenities and salacious innuendos for my precious. Sign me up Major Douchenozzle, I’ll shimmy my fine ass up this fabled air-conditioned igloo any day.

A week later and you've packed your shit, grabbed your ticket, and are hopping the next flight to Vermont.

(four hours, fifty-one minutes, seven seconds, and Bro practically jumps off the plane hyperventilating when you touch down. you didn’t know how much he hated flying. you’ve never been on a plane before; if you didn’t know better, you’d think he hasn’t either. and if you quirk an eyebrow just over the rim of your aviators, and the side of your mouth makes a confused downturn for a second or two at just how fucking strange that that is, well, that was just a trick of the light, and the light is a dirty liar.)

He and you stick out like sore thumbs here

(with Bro in a crumpled white polo and asshole jeans and dumb fucking anime shades, one hand in his pockets with an impassive, calculating kind of expression that you’re more used to than the panic, checking through tabs on Complete Bullshit for god knows what reason; you in the same shirt you wore yesterday, hair a meticulously crafted unkempt, posture slouching something awful as you bop right the fuck along to some sicknasty new bassline Jade dropped on you the night before, thinking of ways to remix it into this new beat you’ve been working on)

among a crowd of home-grown New England faces haughty white and upturned and staring down at you and Bro like some trash that just rolled in from Doesn't Fucking Belong Here, USA.

(the luggage belt is moving so slow, so, so slow, it’s like watching a retarded crippled snail attempt a marathon against the goddamn salt shaker, and you wish you could just shake off the lingering, disdainful stares these people give the two of you, and you can, and you do)

(except you don't.)

You’re rolling through Montpelier an hour later, crammed up in the shotgun seat of an old, dirty, piece of shit pickup Bro apparently had nesting in the airport storage unit,

(it’s a rust hulk straight out of the early eighties, all torn up vinyl and engine rattling, with tacky, outdated bumper stickers on the back and a pine air freshener that does nothing to mask the smell of two-decade old cigarettes, and somehow you aren’t surprised this is his car because it is exactly how you imagined it.)

(you want to ask why he had a car in bumfuck, vermont and not in houston. you want to ask him if he even knows how to drive, but you hold your tongue nice and pretty and settle into the split vinyl seat cover)

moving past the city limits and into the countryside, over the state border and into New York. You give Bro the ‘what the fuck are we doing out here, man, is this the setup for a horror movie or some shit, because I’m not down to being the unwilling accomplice to some new echelon of fucked up smuppet snuff’ look, your fingers tapping in 4-4 on the dash, not really nervous so much as habitual.

(he ruffles your hair with a smirking, mean kind of half-smile, all teeth and teasing and unnatural. you swat at him uselessly.)

And then the road is quiet, and the sky is misting grey. It’s all evergreen and shrubbery and dark soil here, and small towns by clear water: fishing ponds, creeks and rivers, and more wildlife roaming these secondhand backroads than you’ve ever seen in Texas. It starts to rain a bit, ghosting against the glass, and over the soft creak of the windshield wipers Bro asks you if you wanna put on some music, little man, heard you were working on a new track and can I get a sneak peak at that delirious biznasty? And fuck yeah you have, even if it isn’t quite done yet, and you plop your phone on the dashboard, and the drive is comfortable,

(and you cannot shake this feeling that something is wrong.)

---

It isn’t an apartment, it’s a house in the goddamn woods; no, a fucking mansion in the goddamn woods, the design of it ripped straight from the personal architectural smutjournel of Frank Lloyd Wright, complete with white-foam waterfall and neo-American art deco pretension. Your mouth hangs open, and you know, you just fucking know a fly is about to buzz in that shit and set up a cozy little cottage, but you don’t care. This is straight wack, man.

(it looks vaguely familiar too, like something nostalgic stuck in your mental gears, cracked and rusted from disuse; something you saw once, a long time ago, in a place you can’t quite remember.)

Bro gestures you along along the concrete path, and you tell him no, wait, put the fucking brakes on Anime Goldilocks, what the fuck are we doing here, because this sure as shit can’t be where we’re living now, and I don’t wanna piss off the three bears. He pinches the bridge of his nose, and tells you in that deep southern mumble of his that, shit, kid, did you expect we’d just take a plane and end up in the same shitty apartment? And of course you didn’t

(even though you kind of did)

because that would be ridiculous, but-- you don’t know, you’ve been sharing a seven-hundred square foot living space with him for the past fifteen years. How are you supposed to react to a fucking mansion that just suddenly up and settled before you on delicate foundational popliteals and a stark-white concrete strapless all alluring and sultry? Just stand there stone-faced morose and stoic and fuck, that is exactly what you should be doing, isn’t it, because that was what he taught you, to

(stitch up the cuts slowly, careful with the needle and don’t fucking rush it, lil’ bro, even if they’re shallow you can’t just take it and jab that shit in, and for the love of god you gotta work on your dodge game, how the fuck do you expect not to get your ass served up sunnyside in a real fight?)

(̶̥̘͗̉̾̊͝ ̷̦̙̦͌͊̒́̍͛̀̀̈́́̚͘̕̚n̷̨̜̲͓̹̪͎̒͋́̊̎̐̍͌̆͘͝ͅͅͅ ̸̤̥̏́̌̑͒̈́̿́̃

̶̧̝͎̝͔͔̣̬͈̗̥̠̔̀͌̈́͆̒̇̋̋́̈́͐̈̚͝ ̷̡̛͕͚̰͉̦̼̤͍̘̝̹̮̩̈́̑̇̃̔͝͠ơ̷̡̧͔̘͇̖̫͉̳̳͖͇̰̻͗͛̿̋̾̏͘͝ ̸̨̧͈̱̫̩̲̦̭͖̿̃́̔͛̓̓͌̌͗̍̔̾͜ͅ

̷̢̮̮̠̠̬̖̙͈͋̍͛͆̔̈́̓̌̂̀͌̽͝͠ ̸̨̗̯̓͐̿̇͂͊̓́́̄̃̚͘͜͜.̷̲̙͓̮̮̬͓̈́̋͂͒̓̃͘͠͠)̸̧̖̪̦̥̪͙̫͍͙̩̻̺̩̒̌̈́͒͋͝ͅ

̵̬̯̪͛̓̈́̎̒́̂

It isn’t our house anyway, he says,

(and your mind slams on the brakes so hard you think you might flip this shit frontways, slam the roof on that motherfucker into the burning asphalt and skid off the edge of this brutal synapse fuckup.)

(you can’t remember what you were thinking. it’s blurry, and forgotten, and everything is normal again)

moving forward in long, atypical strides that you scramble to follow. The rain is still coming down, you realize, in a softer drizzle that dampens your shirt. Friend of mine lives here.

Holy shit, he has friends?

Yes, I have friends, you little shit, and you flinch when you realize you must have said that out loud. His arms flex, shoulder blades audibly popping with the contraction of muscle, and you flinch, and nothing happens. Her name is Roxy.

And shit, you guess that’s all there really is to say on the matter, because he doesn’t provide any further explanation and you sure as hell don’t ask. You duck under the porch roof and he raps a fat bar of knuckles on the door.

---

Roxy isn’t anything like you expect.

You don’t know what you were expecting, actually, considering you’ve only just heard about her, but she is perky and kind-eyed and so fucking sincere that the saccharine emotional font of exuberant delight that straight up sparkles from her is making you real uncomfortable.

She hugged you.

She hugged you and you liked it.

(and she hugged Bro too, made his spine go all weird fucking c-shaped wrongness as she crushes him against her chest, calls him Dirk like she fucking owns him.)

You’re ushered in as she turns on heel and sways away with a tipsy strut, sauced and sauntering and high stilettos tapping on the dark hardwood. She tells you to drop your things by the door, she can set each of you up with a room in a bit, and Dirk, honey, we have got so much catching up to do, I haven’ seen you and the lil’ guy in ages, and god yer both so fuckin’ tall I forgot about that bit,

(christ on the cross, she can speak at a mile a minute, accent a thickly laced New York staccato that matches Texas about as close to the intersection of nil and fuckall as you can get without running head-on into traffic.)

and Dirky, Dirkle, Dirk-a-licious, oh my god come here right now, I gotta show you this badass shit I‘ve been working on, it’s fuckin’ lit as hell, it has got switches and gizmos and all of the cool techy shit I know you swoon over, and you need to check out this code I wrote because you know I’m not about to trust anyone else to parse my sick lines, so come ooooooooooooon and there they go, Bro dragged stiff as cardboard across the floor by the hem of his fucking shirt. He gives you a side-eye look that says crosses somewhere between ‘don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back’ and ‘help me.’

You shrug and flip him off and leave him to his fate. His death glare could kill a lesser man.

(holy shit.)

And then, quite suddenly, you are alone.

It’s not quiet, you notice - just a more subtle murmur than the scream of a city, made emptier without Roxy to fill up the room. Slow, churning movement below signals the languid rush of water as it tumbles beneath the floorboards and off the cliffside. Some woodland creature skitters in wet dirt beyond the window pane, which filters in ghost-grey light and shakes a bit when a particularly heavy set of raindrops hit.

You shuffle about awkwardly, and glance around for a second,

(the interior is lavishly decorated, you notice. posh white starkness for fineass digs. sir asshole the stone swamp wizard sits plainly in the foyer, nested in arcane robes of the dimwitted and tacky. a cat is nuzzled up at the foot of some kind of bronzed vacuum. the whole place smells like perfume and vodka. it’s kind of intoxicating.)

before deciding the panicked, lingering gaze is kind of stupid, and waiting for Bro to come back like a pining factory girl in the nineteen-forties writing sappy missives to the brave boys in Okinawa was lame as shit, so you flop down on the couch, all loose, gangly puberty limbs and feigned indifference and the muted light of your phone glaring back at you. You pull open a pesterchum window, shoot a few messages to Harley,

(some off-the-cuff rap cooked slow on these sick fires, like just put some whip cream and a goddamn cherry on that shit and call it a sunday. you also make sure to attach a file for the new sbahj comic you’ve been working on. you’ve lovingly dubbed the new arc ‘the spaztastic furry hatesex maelstrom,’ and you hope know she’ll love it.)

and Egbert,

(and you admit, muddled up in tangents and similes that take forever just to get to the goddamn point, that you actually took his recommendation and stuck through the bitterly tasteless cinema assassination of the week. you even wrote a shitty review for it on one of your ironically maintained critic blogs, and send him a link)

(you won’t admit you laughed at groundhog day. he will never let you live it down. never.)

and Lalonde,

(who is on, surprisingly, because you know she has school right now, and fuck if the flighty broad doesn’t take every swat of the educational ass whooping with a snide, condescending seriousness that has a way of getting just under your skin. she wants to go to Harvard, or Cornell, or Oxford, because she is smarter than you, and John, and maybe not Jade but damn is she close.)

(she doesn’t respond either, though, so you cast the thought away and send her some custom made memes deep fried in a hundred layers of crystalline jpeg illegibility and wait, fuck, holy shit)

and then someone is standing over you, peering with an appraising interest, like they’re looking at a slab of beef splayed out dumb on the chopping block. And you don’t flinch, you really don’t, even though you’re about five seconds away from flipping this shit backwards and kicking dust up as you run for the hills.

You can tell this girl is nasty. She is stygian lips and white-blonde hair and violet eyes that politely inform you that this is indeed the fucking slaughterhouse, that you guessed it right, and you’re about to get served up with a side of collard greens and barbecue sauce.

So of course the first words out of your mouth are 'sup, Rose.

Wait, wh

(you see her past the glow of a verdant sun, because even a double universe killing superbomb can't outshine her. cascading orange silk stitch wrapped in a star-shimmering supernova of violet eyes and pallid skin. it's like a goddamn angel come from the heaven; a smirk beneath the hood and fire in her belly. she is the fucking sun now, and nothing can even fucking compare.)

at.

(what the fuck.)

What the fuck.

(what the actual fuck dude.)

Do I know you? Her voice is just dripping contempt.

And you don't fucking know her. She isn't here. Rose is a billion lightyears off in the gay space commune, deep encoded digital vaporware that went out of style twelve fucking years ago. She is a string of chat logs and embarrassing Fruedian slips that didn't happen, no, Rose, you don't have undercover mother-lust.

And she is here.

You've never even seen her picture, but you know. You know far beneath the skin, something deeper than blood or bone or anything else seething something above that spiritual core. You know on a fucked kind of metaphysical. It's self-evident. It cannot help but make itself true.

Uh.

Shit.

Shit dude fucking say something. She’s just standing there, and the downward curvature of those lips is about to break out of the spatial plane and into some hyper paranoid fourth dimension. You guess she has a right to be weary. Your gangly ass is seated firmly in her territory.

#homestuck #dave strider #bro strider #rose lalonde #mom lalonde #decided i should probably fulfill the whole 'occasionally write things' part of my blog that has kinda been neglected since like 2017 or so #and this has just been sitting abandoned in a google docs since like early 2019 or so but i like it enough that i figured fuck it why not #so here you go #my requisite one writing thing that i post a year #it will probably never be finished #enjoy i guess?

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