#fucking muttering into your hair as he kinda wakes up for whatever reason???? squeezes??? not wanting to get up?? fuck man

[alexandriteobscuraarchive]

((Yes, both the mun and certain muses think about sleeping on or next to the bird a lot, shut up.))

[meetmymouth]

prompt 23 would be so cute :)

hope you enjoy!!!! pls don't forget to reblog if you read and enjoyed it :-) ps i haven't proofread this so if you spot any weird mistakes... don't! will edit later x

#23 "Dance with me"

You sigh into your drink before taking another sip, eyes still darting from as you search for him. You make eye contact and as soon as you get that blinding smile of his, your eyes fall to his body, his outfit, and you can't help but admire the tattoos peeking out from where he got one hand in his pocket.

Men are surrounding him, loud cackles and hollers going around as they throw their hands in the air while they presumably talk about something interesting and exciting. Each with a fancy drink in hand, the circle Harry's part of at the minute seems cold and unfamiliar to you. Thus, you find yourself turning away from Harry, finding Shannon and Brian in deep conversation. As soon as Shannon feels your gaze on them, she looks up at you with a smile, and squeezes your thigh, including you in their conversation.

It was hard, acting like you didn't know him or more like– you didn't know him. Details from his tea preference to the pain killers he used when his back hurt, how his lips looked so plump and big upon waking up, or the freckle on his armpit, or the sounds he made in bed, his favourite position, how he liked to be kissed and held.

Harry was newly single. You always said you met him in the right time, four months ago, when he crashed into your car on Oxford Street, leaving a massive dent on your car. As you spent time with him, you realised the dent he left on your car was blossoming somewhere deep inside you, and you thought he did such brilliant job filling said dent with him, his time, his kisses and touches.

You liked him. Perhaps, way more than he liked you.

He wanted you to keep you under the wraps. He said he didn't want people to scrutinise you both, and how he wanted to take things slow, do everything you both wanted to do and have fun together which wasn't the case–according to him–for his previous relationship. So you kept it secret.

"Look at Gigi, trying to chat Harry up again," Shannon mutters from beside you, drink half-empty as she looks Gigi up and down.

See, it was also not fun working with your secret boyfriend. Was he really a boyfriend?

"Whatever. This is so boring. It's just men boosting about their promotions and trying to flirt with women because apparently it's different when they're drunk and outside of work."

Brian lets out a snort, and you cringe, sending him a shy smile. "Soz, Bri. I know they're your mates."

"No worries. They are a crazy bunch, aren't they? I'll go get another drink," he stands up, and takes Shannon's now-empty drink from her hands. He turns to you, "want another drink?"

"No, I'm good, thanks."

"All right. See ya in a bit, ladies."

You both watch the brunette walk away, passing Harry and his crew but not before he gives Harry's shoulder a squeeze while you watch. Harry perks up at the touch, then turns his face to you once again, a private smile being sent your way though you can't help but look down at your drink, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach.

The night starts to die down and people begin leaving, leaving behind a couple of drunk people and either their partners or people who seem to be holding onto the night for their dear lives for some ridiculous reason.

You're by the bar, sipping yet another Margarita as Harry approaches you, his smile polite and one he gives to nearly everyone at work.

"Hey, you," he says, fingers running through his messy hair as he places his drink on the counter. "You good?"

"Yeah. Shannon's puking her guts out in the toilets so I'm just waiting for her."

Harry purses his lips. "Good to know... you don't want to be holding her hair back?" He smirks, and places his hand close to yours where it's holding the glass from the stem. "You look beautiful."

Something ignites inside you and you suddenly feel angry.

"Thanks, I'm surprised you even looked at me tonight."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," you shrug, and take another sip of your drink. It's warm now. "Nothing at all."

He leans closer to you. "What's going on? Did I do something?"

"Hah. That's kinda the point. You didn't do anything."

With brows furrowed, he comes closer to you. "Sounds like you've something to say. Just say it."

"I just did. I'm sick of this. Sick of being a secret," you gulp when he tilts his head. "Sick of watching people flirt with you from afar... I'm just fucking done. Are you like embarrassed of me?"

"Baby, what? What brought this on?"

You let out a bitter chuckle, and look behind him to see if Shannon's anywhere to be found. She's not.

"I'm not eighteen, Harry. I don't like this– this whole secret relationship thing. I want to be able to hug my boyfriend in public, hell– even talk to him instead of watching him from afar! This is not high school. I'm done playing this hiding game. You either have me, or you don't."

Harry clears his throat, and brings his hand to your thigh, squeezing briefly before he travels it all the way up to your neck. He rests his warm fingertips on the side of your neck, thumb stroking your damp neck before he leans in and presses his forehead to yours.

For the first time, neither of you look around to see if anyone's watching. Instead, you find yourself extremely overwhelmed as you close your eyes, and listen to his breathing.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, lips almost brushing together when he speaks. "I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking stupid, I'm sorry I made you feel that way."

You open your eyes, though his gaze is on your lips, which makes your heart beat a little bit faster than it already was a minute before.

"I just want you, Harry," you say with a shake of your head. "I want you."

"I want you too. I'm sorry... I'm so sorry sweetheart," he pulls away, and grabs your hand.

You feel yourself sober up at the touch. "What are you doing?"

"Dance with me."

He helps you off the barstool, though you can't help but frown at the request.

"You're crazy, I'm not dancing with you, here," you squeeze his hand, hoping he would give up, but he answers with a smirk as he shakes his head.

"Come on."

"I'm not doing the whole silent dance thing. Where the girl goes 'there's no music playing' as the guy gives her a cringe smile–"

He places one hand on her waist as the other stays in hers, hips already starting to sway. "–Have I ever told you how much you ramble when nervous?"

"I can't believe you."

"I like you," he whispers into your neck as he keeps swaying you slowly, and you can't help but close your eyes and tilt your head a little so he has more space to work with. "I like you so much, it's terrifying," he mumbles this time, words muffled. "I'm sorry I was an idiot. I hope you can forgive me."

"Yeah, well... if you keep kissing my neck like that..."

Someone clears their throat behind you, and you both pause the swaying for a second before Harry lets out a chuckle, and hides his face into your neck. Though, he still turns you guys around to face the intruder, and it's Shannon. Of course it is. With her brown curls messy and face looking incredibly dull, she looks like she's just seen a ghost.

"Hey," Harry looks up at her, hand still in yours. "You feeling any better?"

[shealolz]

“I wanna be your favorite boy” - Zenitsu Agatsuma - PART ONE

Summary: moments with you and zenitsu <33 also him realizing he doesn’t love nezuko but he loves you

Warnings & Notes: some blood bc demon-slaying,

Genre: fluff, some bits of angst

Zenitsu Agatsuma x Tanjiro’s Agender Twin Reader

PART ONE!!

word count: 4,565

——

when Zenitsu first got a glance at you he was drawn to your eyes. those curious eyes with smile lines next to them. but he could tell by the furrow in your brow that you were just as angry as the boy next to you.

“you know this counts as harassment right?” you said, glancing at the other boy who was apologizing to the beautiful girl he’d been weakened in the knees by.

“harassment?!” Zenitsu stammered. “no, no, no! I’m just trying to find someone beautiful to marry before I die to demons!” he wailed, wiping at his running nose.

you knelt down to sit next to him and he caught sight of the sword tucked against your hip. were you and the other boy demon slayers too?

“Have I met you before?” you asked, tilting your head. Zenitsu shrugged. “I think I saw you at the final selection. it was hard not to miss, there weren’t very many left.”

Zenitsu shuddered. he survived purely out of luck. sure he had gruesome dreams about defeating the demons but it never actually happened, he was weak!

you stuck out your hand. “I’m (name) Kamado. a pleasure to meet you...uh...” you trailed off.

“Zenitsu Agatsuma.” he supplied, feeling a tiny smile creep at his lips. “a pleasure to meet you Zenitsu.”

he shook your hand. it was warm.

the boy you were with walked over, Zenitsu’s messenger buried in the mess of auburn locks. “(name),” he said. “I see you’ve made a new friend. Tanjiro Kamado.” the boy—Tanjiro—introduced himself, giving Zenitsu a strained smile.

so he was your brother. and he was also still upset over Zenitsu’s wailing. “let's get off the dirty ground shall we?” you prompted, pulling yourself up with ease. Zenitsu followed.

before you and your brother could leave, Tanjiro turned around. “would you like to join us Zenitsu? I see you a slayer after all.”

Zenitsu nodded frantically and walked into sync with you guys. he bets you guys are strong, he’s unlikely to die with you guys around.

digging around in his uniform he found a riceball. he split it into three pieces with his hands, handing you and Tanjiro a piece each. “a gesture of my gratitude.” he mumbled, holding the riceball to his mouth.

you gave him a smile and Tanjiro voiced his thank you as he nibbled on the rice.

silence quickly fell in between the three of you and Zenitsu tuned into your sounds to see if either of you had bad intentions. he didn’t want to hang out with the wrong crowd y’know!

but as soon as he did all he could hear was the soft matching melody of your twin-like hearts, beating with sincerity and kindness. you both had a sound so soft and gentle it made Zenitsu want to cry.

he was in good hands, he knew it.

——

“I dont like creepy houses!” Zenitsu wailed, his hand gripping your hoari. you didn’t tell him off for it but you did raise a teasing eyebrow at it.

“Please! you’ve got to save our big brother!” the tiny children pleaded, pointing wildly at the house.

before Tanjiro could speak to calm them down a body is thrown out the window and it’s very bloodied up. Zenitsu let out a shriek.

you and Tanjiro were obviously idiots because you ran towards the body! still, he tip-toed over in time to see the man let out his final breath.

you glanced over your shoulder to look at the terrified child. “is...is this your brother?”

they shook their head. “our brother has short hair. that can't possibly be him.”

Tanjiro nodded. “then we can still save him!” he smiled. you nodded, smiling equally as wide.

“c’mon let’s go.” you hummed, making your way for the door. “ARE YOU CRAZY?! YOU'RE GOING TO DIE IN THERE!” Zenitsu screamed, almost turning white with fear.

“it’ll be fine. we can protect you.” Tanjiro said, slipping off the box on his back to lay it under a tree. “yeah, and here, you can hold my haori if you're so scared.” you stuck out the end of your haori for Zenitsu to grab onto.

slowly he grabbed it, bundling right up into your side, only a couple inches from your back as he peered over your shoulder.

the five of you only made it a couple of feet before the house began to rearrange itself. Zenitsu's knuckles turned white from gripping your haori so the two of you would stay together. just one kamado sibling! please!

once it stops you quickly depart, your haori ripping, a tiny piece of fabric in Zenitsu's palms as you bang your fists against the walls, screaming for your brother. "TANJIRO!"

"c-calm down! the demon will hear you!" he whimpered, biting his nails nervously.

you turned your angry gaze to him. "No! I will not calm down! my brother could die because I'm not with him!"

"do you really have such little faith in your brother?" the little boy, Shoichi, spoke up.

you sighed, the tenseness in your shoulders loosening. "no, that's not it. it's just he's one of the few family members I have left. I don't want to risk losing him."

Shoichi bit his lip. "then let's find your brother and my siblings!"

you gave the kid a smile and patted his head softly, Zenitsu kinda wished you'd do that to him too. just to ease his worries a bit.

"i- um. I ripped your haori." he stammered out, wanting your attention back on him. you clicked your tongue. "it's fine, I can just stitch it back later. or you can keep it, I don't mind."

he nodded, holding his hand to his chest.

"now let's search for an exit and then re-enter the building," you said, clapping your hands.

"aha! I found one!" he chirps pulling open the door he had found.

you sent him a warm smile. "good job, Zenitsu!"

he fumbled with his hands, his cheeks heating up greatly and he was about to stutter out a thank you when he saw a boar in the corner of his eye.

snapping his head to the side it turned out it wasn't a boar but a man with a boar's head. "WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!" he screeched, running over to you to hide behind you.

but the boar-man hybrid paid them no attention and just ran down the hall, dual swords in its grip.

"I don't know," you muttered, hand resting atop your own sword.

the three of you walk in silence, suspense high as you crept through the house.

"Why are you being so cowardly. stop attaching yourself to (name), you got a sword for a reason don't you?" Shoichi insults and Zenitsu lets out a shriek, frightened by the sudden noise.

there's a deep rumbling laugh and loud footsteps before a large demon with a long tongue steps out, licking its sharp teeth that gleam under the yellow lights.

"fuck." you mutter under your breathing, pushing out your arm in front of Zenitsu and Shoichi.

"you're not gonna fight it are you?!" Zenitsu whisper-screams, trembling fingers gripping at his hair. you take in a breath. "as a demon slayer my job is to slay every threatening demon I come across, so yes, I will fight it."

"Zenitsu, bring Shoichi to the back wall, make sure nothing happens to him," you order and Zenitsu practically drags the boy to the back wall.

The demon chuckled. "this is going to be an easy fight." he muttered, cracking his knuckles.

you unsheathed your sword, holding it out to the side as the demon runs forward. Zenitsu's fingers stop shaking and both he and Shoichi wait in bated breath to see what you would do.

you don't move other than a slight shift in your feet and when the demon is about three feet away you gripped your sword harder.

"Water Breathing Seventh Form: Piercing Rain Drop."

before the demon could wrap his claws around you you step forward and stab your sword into its stomach before pulling out and doing it again while the demon stood in shock that you landed a hit on him.

your stab had stopped the demon from moving and before it could try again you pulled out your sword and jumped up, using the tall roof to your advantage.

"Water Breathing Second Form: Water Wheel."

your sword crashed down on the demon's arms that he had held up to shield himself and barely scraped his head. "Wow..." Shoichi breathed from next to Zenitsu and he couldn't help but think that it was an understatement.

but your minor victory was short-lived as the demon wrapped its huge hand around your calf and foot and squeezed.

Zenitsu could hear the loud crack over your scream.

you tumbled for the floor but still managed to tuck and roll before you hit your head, your sword plunging into the floorboard as you gripped at your ankle. it was probably broken.

the demon turned around but gave a quick glance to Zenitsu and Shoichi first. "you two look weak, I can have a quick snack first." the demon decided before picking you up.

the demon's tongue slithered out and licked against your cheek and Zenitsu promptly passed out.

a shocked gasp.

"zen---wake---you---save---(name)!"

a slicing sound along with the squirting of blood.

"Thunder Breathing First Form: Thunderclap And Flash."

a thud.

Zenitsu's eyes flutter open and stare into your own giddy ones. he sits up, rubbing at his head before his eyes snap open at the sight of the decapitated and decaying demon.

"did you and Shoichi do that?" he asks, tilting his head. you furrow your eyebrows and Zenitsu's even more confused.

"What no- never mind, sure, whatever. but I need you to carry me because of my leg," you babbled, laying a hand on his shoulder.

oh yeah, you had broken your leg. does that mean Shoichi killed the demon? his eyes flick down to your leg which was covered but he didn't doubt it looked horrendous underneath.

he stands up and kneels down for you to jump on his back and he rests his hands under your thigh. "Shoichi, could you grab my sword for me?" you ask the dark-haired boy and he nods, plucking your sword from the ground and helping you sheath it.

he hopes Tanjiro won't yell at him for not saving you before your leg broke but he was scared and passed out! besides Shoichi ended up killing the demon anyways.

the three of you walk around again, calling out for Tanjiro and Shoichi's siblings every once in a while and praying you don't run into a demon because one, Shoichi was just a kid. two, Zenitsu was a coward and ran away when he got scared. and three, you, the only skilled one here, had broken your leg protecting them.

suddenly the house shifts again and the three of you scream as your thrown out a window, freefalling for the ground.

in a moment of quick-thinking Zenitsu turned mid-air and wrapped himself around you and Shoichi so he would take most of the damage. he could at least do this one thing to try and keep his saviors safe.

all he remembers is a sharp pain in his head before he conked out again.

----

when he comes to it the boar-man hybrid is back and is storming for the box that you sit in front of, glaring at the half-naked hybrid.

"touch it and you’ll be asking for a fight," you say lowly, the threat was empty of course but the hybrid man didn't have to know that!

Zenitsu recalls back to Tanjiro's words when they had been walking.

"This box is more important to me and (name) than our lives, we'd give anything to keep it safe."

Zenitsu knew there was a demon in the box, it wasn't hard to tell with its irregular heartbeat but if you and Tanjiro cared for it that much he had to keep it safe.

"Shoichi! get (name) away from the box!" he yelled before curling around the box's entrance.

"huh," you mumbled as Shoichi began to drag you away. you couldn't put up much of a fight other than scratch at the boy's hands as you shouted profanities.

he took kicks and punches to the side but he had to keep the demon in the box safe, for you. ahh--um for you and Tanjiro he means.

the boar-man hybrid raised its sword, the metal glistening in the light, and he squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the pain.

except it never came.

"WAIT!" was that Tanjiro?

slowly he peels his eyes open to see the boar-headed man's attention on Tanjiro who had his sword at the ready.

before Zenitsu can process what's happening Tanjiro punches the boar-man (which now that he thinks about it he swears he's seen him before, maybe at final selection) in the ribs and Zenitsu can hear the crack.

"so we're gonna fight bare-handed? fine with me!" the shirtless dude shouts, throwing his swords to the floor. "what? no!" Tanjiro stammers.

the man charges Tanjiro and in a moment of quick reflexes Tanjiro smacks his head against the guy's and he sways a bit.

slowly, almost painfully slow, the mask slips off and a very girlish and beautiful face is revealed as blood drips down the guy's forehead and nose.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" he groaned. "PRETTY YET SO BRUTAL!”

the guy chuckled. "what did ya say 'bout my face? I'll punch your lights out for that!"

but before he could go through with it (Zenitsu is sure the boy would) he collapses, probably due to a head injury.

"wow. I knew you were hard-headed but not that hard-headed," you comment dryly from a couple of feet away, still limp in Shoichi's arms. "my arms are starting to feel numb." Shoichi complains.

Tanjiro walks over to you. "what happened? why can't you stand?"

"broke my ankle trying to defeat a demon. I did some damage though, so good for me." you cheer weakly as Tanjiro helps you stand without putting pressure on your foot.

"Shoichi your siblings are over there," Tanjiro says softly with a jerk of his chin. Shoichi grins and runs over to his sibling's waiting arms, crying with joy. damn, Kaigaku never greeted him with tears or hugs.

then again Kaigaku would probably skin Zenitsu alive if given the choice.

"Zenitsu I know your hurt but could you use your haori as a pillow for the guy on the ground?" Tanjiro wonders. "I need to find something to splint (name's) leg."

Zenitsu nods and shrugs off his haori, shoving it beneath the shirtless guy's head. he really needs to figure out this guy's name.

he takes a moment to listen to the guy's sound and instantly want's to tune out. it's loud and annoying and wild like the guy was always hyped up with energy. it was surely something.

he much rathered you and Tanjiro's shared sound.

Tanjiro managed to find a stick to split your leg and had you watch the box that held the demon.

"c'mon. let's bury this guy's body then find some ice for your bruises, eh?" Tanjiro suggested, hoisting up the long-haired dead guy from earlier. Zenitsu nodded and began to dig a hole for the boy.

----

it's night and honestly, Zenitsu was tired but the crow said they'd bring them somewhere to rest up and who was he to deny that?

Inosuke, the shirtless guy (they figured out his name), kept trying to coax Tanjiro into fighting him but the auburn-haired slayer just wasn't having it. he was too busy fussing over your ankle.

the group ends up at a mansion with a wisteria crest on it and Zenitsu relishes in the calming and safe vibe it gives off.

the crickets chirp in his ears and he lets a smile coat his lips. a warm hand wraps around his own and he turns his head to face yours.

your smile isn’t wide and cheerful but instead fond and small. Zenitsu couldn’t help but think you looked stunning even with the grime coating your arms and cheeks.

his tongue felt dry and his heart seemed to pause and in the corner of his eye, he focused on the confused look of Tanjiro as the red-haired boy’s nose twitched.

“I just wanted to say…thank you for saving me back there. you barely know me yet you still helped and I couldn’t thank you enough,” you said softly, averting your eyes to the cracked ground.

Zenitsu rubbed at the back of his neck. “I didn’t even save you… I just passed out. I’m too cowardly to save someone as cool as you.” he didn’t understand your praise, Shoichi killed the demon, hadn’t he?

you shook your head. “you need to learn to take credit for your feats Zenitsu, even if you don’t remember them.” you clicked your tongue before gesturing for Tanjiro to continue walking.

Zenitsu was thoroughly confused, what had you meant by that?

brushing it off he walked after you, listening to your and Tanjiro’s heartbeats. the beautiful melodies you had seemed to overpower Inosuke’s wild and crazed one but he couldn’t help but think that Inosuke’s sound fit right in with the rest of them.

something creeps out of the house and it was obviously a smiling old lady but he couldn’t help his yell of, “MONSTER!” that really did a strain on his probably broken ribs.

you lightly slapped the back of his head. “be polite!” you scolded, not unlike how his Gramps would whenever they went to town.

he muttered an apology to the lady who just laughed wholeheartedly and beckoned them inside.

“Not that I don’t like your kindness ma’am but why are you doing this?” Tanjiro asked as the woman clattered around to prepare food.

“a while back a couple of demon slayers like you four saved my family from some demons and now we tend to injured slayers to thank them, even if they are long gone.” the woman explained, serving them bowls of steaming udon noodles.

“once you finish your dinner I have some clothes for you to change into and then I’m going to have to wrap your ribs and leg.” the woman said, pulling out clothing for them to wear.

“thank you!” you and Tanjiro say simultaneously, picking up your chopsticks. Inosuke, like the menace he is, eats with his hands, shoving the noodles in his mouth messily.

you grimace but pat his back lightly when he almost chokes. Inosuke squints at you. “you tryna fight or something?”

“no, I just don’t want you to die due to noodles.”

Inosuke huffs and continues to devour the noodles, not caring about the mess he made.

after food and changing a family doctor came to wrap their ribs and your leg along with giving you a crutch to use till your leg is healed.

the four of you head to the bedroom you were gifted, Inosuke plopping down on a futon and claiming it as his.

you sat down on your own, fiddling with the sheets. you were probably bored.

“hey Inosuke, why’d you become a demon slayer?” you asked, kicking your good leg back and forth.

“well, I joined after I beat up a member who came to my mountain! then I heard about demons and final selection from the guy and decided to join to beat up demons!” Inosuke grinned, resting his head in his arm as he stared at you.

you snickered behind your hand. “amazing story, bravo.”

“I know.” Inosuke shot back. Zenitsu almost face-palmed.

“uh.” Zenitsu started, not really knowing if now was a good time. “Tanjiro, (name), w-why do you have a demon in the box you carry around?”

and with stupidly good timing the demon scratched at the box’s door, the thing swinging open.

a clawed palm sticks out and Zenitsu backs into the closet, trying to climb into it.

but when it crawls out his eyes widen. long black longs of hair that lighten at the tips, bright pink eyes, and smooth skin.

the demon was a beauty, that’s for sure.

but comparing it to you its eyes seemed dull, its hair didn’t shine, and no matter how cute it looked it couldn’t compare to the flush on your cheeks when you thanked him earlier.

though the demon was still pretty, and Zenitsu tended to gravitate to pretty people.

wait…was Tanjiro carrying her around to have a cute demon girlfriend?! Zenitsu refused to allow this! even if you were in on it!

“TANJIRO I WILL SET YOUR EXECUTION DATE! YOU CANNOT CARRY AROUND SUCH A BEAUTY AND NOT TELL ME!” he screeched, beginning to chase the boy around as he tried to stutter out a response.

sighing, you crawled over to the demon and let it hug you, thin arms wrapping around your shoulders before tiny hands patted your head.

“did you have a good sleep, Nezuko?” you asked kindly. the demon, Nezuko, let out a happy hum and began to incoherently babble around the bamboo gag.

adorable, his mind supplied, yet his eyes were on you.

“you all talk too much. it takes up thinking capacity.” Inosuke says dryly before promptly passing out.

“Zenitsu!” Tanjiro squeaks, trying to be quiet. “Nezuko’s my sister! not my girlfriend! calm down!”

Zenitsu blinks once. twice. before shrugging and responding with a simple “okay.”

after that fiasco, Tanjiro ‘talks’ with his younger sister before stating he was heading to bed, leaving just you, him, and the demon who perched herself on the end of your futon.

silently he climbed from his futon and crawls to yours, trying to ignore the eyes of the demon.

the grime was still on your cheeks from earlier and absentmindedly Zenitsu reaches out and scrubs at your cheek with his sleeve.

you flush again and look down at your lap. “what was that for?” you mumble.

“there was dirt on you, didn’t want you to go to be coated in dirt y’know?” he laughs but it’s obviously a nervous one.

“Oh. well uh, goodnight Zenitsu, have good dreams,” you say, patting his arm before lifting your blanket over yourself.

Zenitsu retreats to his own futon calmly but his mind was going a hundred miles a minute.

oh god- why did he do that? he was so stupid. what if you think he has a crush on you? no, no, no, he has a crush on your beautiful sister Nezuko, doesn’t he? he has to! he loves pretty people! but he also finds you pretty…does that me he likes you too? no that can’t be possible your just a friend!

and he falls asleep like that, internally anxious.

——

the next day the group is eating breakfast when a kasugai crow appears, annoyingly screaming in their ears.

“TANJIRO MAKE IT SHUT UP!” he yells, resisting the urge to smack the boy with the bowl of food in front of him.

“Zenitsu calm down! I can’t talk to it if you keep screaming!” Tanjiro yells back.

you are glaring at both of them from the rim of your bowl as Inosuke runs around having successfully stolen as much food as he could.

“could you both shut up?” you groan, putting down your chopsticks.

the crow lands on your arm when you stick it out and tweets into your ear, telling you about whatever mission they had to do now.

you nod and pat the crow's head before it flies off. “Inosuke sits down,” you order, pointing at the seat next to you.

He hesitantly does and Zenitsu silently thanks whatever god that’s out there that he does. he really doesn’t want to face your wrath.

“were supposed to go to Mt. Natagumo. apparently, there are multiple demons, seemingly in a group, roaming around and killing whoever comes to the mountain,” you explain.

Zenitsu pales. that sounds scary. he really doesn’t want to die, especially alone.

"We'll do it!" Tanjiro hums. Inosuke gives a boyish grin. "let's kick some demon ass!"

the kind lady walks up to them, taking their bowls of food. "the doctor says your injuries are healed so you're free to go." she smiles. "come back if needed."

"thank you for the kindness ma'am!" Tanjiro bows his head. she waves it off with a laugh. "no need to thank me, deary."

"well," you announced. "let's get changed and head to Mt. Natagumo!"

----

"we've been walking for hours. how tall is the mountain?" Zenitsu whined, dragging a hand down his sweaty face.

"hold on- I smell something!" Tanjiro shouted, holding a hand out. "it smells like blood."

and of course, Tanjiro runs towards the danger. "WHERE ARE YOU GOING?" he bellowed after Tanjiro who had been followed by not only you but Inosuke as well.

"To fight some demons!" you chirped, hands cupping your mouth. "you can stay here if you want. we'll be back in no time."

"what (bad take on your name) said!" Inosuke grinned.

Zenitsu huffed and brought his knees to his chest. "HAVE FUN DYING!" he snarled.

----

how stupid could they be? who the hell runs towards the danger? what in the...

he will not go, he refuses to go into that hell hole.

they're all gonna die.

wait... they're all gonna die!

he scrambled up. you and the idiots took Nezuko!

when he looked at the sky he realized the sun had been begging to set and he'd sat there mumbling to himself like a mad man.

he has to keep you safe! and Nezuko of course.

Zenitsu runs for the mountain, calling out you and Nezuko's names, hoping one of you would hear him. and for the second time, he wished there was at least one kamado sibling with him.

as he's pushing his way through the forest on the mountain he hears little clapping of spikes hitting the ground and a shiver goes down his spine.

"oh god, I'm an idiot. why did I come here?" he mumbled to himself, turning his head in all directions.

though he froze when he saw it.

a tiny spider with a bald human head.

what the actual fuck.

screaming, he scrambles to get away, getting slapped and scraped by multiple tree branches whilst doing so.

but then he comes across an even bigger spider with a human head. Zenitsu wants to cry. he wishes you were here, you'd be able to slay the demon and protect him.

"I see you've met my creation." the spider demon laughed, a cruel grin growing on its lips. "as the eldest son, I have a powerful ability. I can turn humans into little spiders that must obey my orders. and I want you to be next."

Zenitsu babbles nonsense as he fearfully climbed up a tree, hugging its trunk.

"I'm sorry!" he cries. "I'm sorry I couldn't become the demon slayer gramps wanted me to be! I'm sorry I'm a pathetic and sniveling coward, I don't want to be one! I'm sorry I couldn't protect you, (name)!"

his hands come to cover his head and Zenitsu realizes chunks of hair are starting to fall out as his eyes focus on the bite in his palm.

he bangs his head against the tree lightly.

why couldn't he do anything?

----

it was getting too long so ima have to split this into parts but here's part one!!

@ilyimagines @mychemicalangel @songbird-writer

[inskz]

lucky charm - lee minho

pairing - lee minho x reader

genre - college!au, best friends to lovers, very cliche fluff (lucky girl starring lindsey lohan kinda vibes???)

words - 4k

note - this is just a cute little drabble i wrote while im still waiting for my covid test results to come back so that i can leave my room and see the sun again 🤪 pls be careful everybody take care of your health 💚 enjoy!!!

- - - - -

“You must be kidding me,” you sigh when you see Minho’s hand has turned into a fist, his rock crushing miserably your scissors. Once again, you lost at rock, paper, scissors. And once again, you’re the one that is going to wash your best friend’s dishes that have piled up in is tiny kitchen sink throughout the week.

“Fuck that. This is so unfair,” you grumble, throwing the dishtowel in Minho’s stupid yet perfectly chiseled face.

You make a beeline for his bed, which is actually only a few steps away from the kitchen. Being a broke college student definitely doesn’t allow him to rent a spacious studio, let alone a two-room apartment. You throw yourself headfirst onto his uncomfortable mattress, whose springs always poke your back at night.

“Life is so unfair,” your friend mocks you, dragging out every vowel of his sentence dramatically.

No doubt, you would be strangling him at that very moment if you weren’t so busy playing dead, hoping he would forget about your pitiful existence.

But there is no way mister Lee Minho would miss out on an opportunity to have his gross plates cleaned by someone else. Grabbing onto your ankle, he drags you out of bed until you plop down on the dirty carpeted floor (Minho has the unfortunate tendency to procrastinate vacuuming too). At this point, you are fake crying, throwing a literal tantrum, like a 6 years old child would.

“Life is unfair!” you yell, your feet kicking in the air in pure anger.

At least it is to you. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been lucky. The only instance you got remotely close to it was when you found a four-leaf clover last summer. Well, only if you disregard the fact you stepped into dog poop  on your way to picking it. Oh and that you were wearing brand new white Converse. 

On the other hand, it seems like the boy has the whole crew of the Olympus gods on his side. Not one day goes by without his guardian angel manifesting its presence. 

Minho has always been the lucky type. The type to get an extra nugget in his box of 10. To find 20 dollars bills on the ground. To win every single Instagram giveaway he participates to (and lord knows how much he likes participating to them). 

But how can you be mad at him when he always happily shares his food with you, invites you to the restaurant without you even asking, and gives you his prizes, pretending he doesn’t need them? You don’t believe him when he says he see no use in a panda onesie or a waterproof bluetooth speaker. Deep down, you know it’s his way to silently love you. 

But well, you can still blame him for occasionally taking advantage of your misfortune to make you do his dreaded house chores, just like right now. 

Everyone thinks you are a bizarre duo. Even you can’t fathom how in hell you two became best friends, considering how awfully your first encounter went three years ago. 

On orientation day, he asked you for the time, probably because his phone was dead (or maybe because he was dying to talk to you?)

Without hesitation, you lifted and rotated your wrist so that you could see your watch. Little did you remember; you never actually owned a watch and you were holding a fancy 7 dollars iced coffee, which, of course, did not have a lid on because plastic is bad for the environment (duh). 

Minho couldn’t help but burst out in hysterical laughter when the whole drink spilled on your jeans. For your defense, you didn’t sleep at all the night before  since you were terrified of being alone in your new dorm room the first few days (weird stuff happens all the time in dorms, okay?). If he had asked you for your name, you probably wouldn’t even have been able to tell him. 

But Minho thought you were the funniest person on campus, and he really needed a clown like you to entertain him throughout his endless college semesters. That’s what he told you anyways. Not that he thought you were the cutest human being he had ever seen. 

Why would he when you are the literal definition of a mess: always having toothpaste stains on your sweater, bags under your eyes, messy hair, tripping and falling, missing buses, breaking things, losing stuff. 

Most of the time, you just forget your keys and Minho lets you crash at his place since he hasn’t got any roommate and he isn’t used to sleeping alone, especially without his cats. It surely isn’t because he loves waking up next to a very groggy but adorable you every single morning, no.  

Minho manages to bring you back to the countertop despite your reluctance. Positioned behind you, his arms trapping your body to make sure you can’t run away from your duties, he dips your hands into the soapy water, and you can’t help but squirm at the touch of an unknown substance sticking to a plate that has probably been soaking here for a week. You despise doing the dishes and your friend knows it.

You hear him giggle in your ear while he is playing with your arms like you are some type of marionette, making you to take the sponge and squeeze dish soap onto it. 

You’ve never been the kind to like proximity nor seemed to be Minho, but for some reason, you always end up glued to each other. You hate public displays of attention and pet names a little less when it comes from him. Or maybe you don’t hate it at all and actually crave it every single minute that goes by.

Before he has the time to come up with the Machiavellian idea to soak your pajamas in dirty water (because you know he would inevitably have at some point), you yank his hands off of you and start scrubbing angrily the dirty cups. 

Minho stays behind you anyways, observing your every move, his chin propped up on your shoulder like a curious little bird. To be honest, his presence is kind of getting overwhelming. But whatever, it’s not like his slightest touch makes your heart warm up in comfort or that he smells like fresh linen drying out on the porch of a cottage house on a sunny Sunday morning or anything. 

“You missed a spot. Here” he murmurs teasingly, his lips almost touching your earlobe, while he points at the handle of his hideous ‘world’s greatest dad’ mug Jisung gifted him last christmas. 

You know he has noticed the way you shivered violently at the feeling of his breath tickling your skin because he starts snickering loudly. 

“I swear to god if you don’t shut up and go seat on the couch, I’ll slap you so hard with this spatula you’ll regret you were even born,” you say, turning around suddenly to menace him with the plastic utensil. 

Of course, he isn’t afraid one bit. Right now, you really wish you could make the smug, but oh so attractive, look on his face disappear. 

“Alright, ma’am” he laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’ll let you do your thing”. He lets himself fall onto his dingy couch. 

You can hear him humming one of his favorite songs above the sound of the water running. It would probably be getting on your nerves if his voice wasn’t so pretty.  

“Chan’s sick, so we’re not going to the gym tomorrow night. Do you wanna eat tacos? El Huero has even better deals than usual” he asks you, scrolling mindlessly through his phone. 

“Aren’t the deals supposed to be on Tuesdays?” You frown and scrub a little harder the frying pan Minho has burnt the night before while trying to make chocolate chips pancakes for diner, because why eat savory food when you can have dessert for every meal, right? It is one of the few advantages of living without your parents you both truly enjoy. 

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Tomorrow,” he yawns, probably exhausted after what you put him through last night. You forced him to catch up on the entire season of Love Island because you desperately needed someone to bitch with, and what better partner than Lee Minho.  

You take a quick glance at him and see him stretching himself across the cushions like a cat. You always thought there was something feline about his features. While you’re drying the mugs with the dishtowel, your mind wanders uncontrollably, thinking about his piercing eyes, his delicate nose, the corners of his lips that curl up a little… 

All of the sudden, your hands freeze. Minho is too immersed in TikToks to notice the stupor on your face. “Wait. Today is… Monday?” you stutter. 

Alarmed by the sound of your voice, his eyes finally leave his phone’s screen to look up at you. “Yeah” he repeats slowly as if you are the dumbest person he has ever encountered. 

And you truly are. You are pretty sure your heart has stopped beating. Minho’s “world’s greatest dad” mug you’re holding slips between your fingers and comes crashing on the floor with a deafening sound. The pieces are now scattered all around you, making you unable to make out what’s written on it anymore. Not a big loss, if you ask. 

“Y/N, you know that’s my favorite mug!” he exclaims, leaping up from the couch. “I’m sure you did it on purpose,” he mutters while he’s trying to collect the small fragments, in vain. 

But you’re too shocked at this very moment to pay attention to the glare your friend is giving you. To be honest, Minho has only two moods: glaring at you or teasing you.  

“My interview,” you finally manage to say, and Minho’s eyes go wide as he realizes the critical situation you’re in. 

You check the time on the microwave: 10:45. In 30 minutes, you’re supposed to be on the other side of town, being interrogated by boring businessmen that are going to decide whether or not you’ll be accepted for a paid internship in one of the most reputable music label of the country. Basically, decide whether you’ll live a happy and fulfilling life, working in the sector you’ve always dreamed of or end up miserable with a boring office job and a massive college debt. 

“Holy shit,” Minho whispers. You can see a wave of panic washing across his face for a split second, but, as always, he manages to find his composure back immediately. 

He has never been the kind to lose his cool, except to scold you when you forget the names of his cats and their respective coats’ color (which you unfortunately often did forget). 

“What are you doing? Get dressed!” He tells you when he sees you’re still standing there dumbfounded in the kitchen, like the famous Robert Pattinson meme, wearing an oversize Kermit the frog shirt with a dozen holes in it and his favorite Adidas sweatpants you always stole from him.

“No, it’s too late. I can’t make it,” you mutter, your breath short. You’re paralyzed, as if there is a 20lbs rock sitting at the bottom of your stomach, pinning you to the ground. 

This isn’t bad luck, you think. This is karma. This is what you get for skipping classes to watch telereality shows in your bed with your best friend and not even realizing it isn’t the weekend anymore.

“Miss me with that bullshit.” He runs to his closet and rummages through his drawers, throwing every piece of clothing that’s on his way to find an appropriate outfit that would fit you. 

“You’re gonna go do this interview even if I have to drag you all the way there.” He pushes you into his bathroom since you still haven’t moved an inch. 

You manage to brush your teeth and your hair, fighting through the nauseous feeling that is building up in your tummy. 

When you come back to the living room, Minho has found dress pants and a sweater that might not look utterly ridiculous on you. He lets you change in a corner, while he runs around the room collecting all your essentials. 

“You’re coming?” you ask him when you see he is already wearing his puffer jacket.  

“You really think I’m gonna let you go all by yourself when you’re literally not even able to put your shoes on properly”. You are, indeed, struggling with your laces, as if your fingers are suddenly made out of butter. 

Minho ties them up for you and you literally feel like he’s your babysitter. You know you’re gonna hear about this for months – what are you saying- years! But all you can think about at the moment though, is the fact that sneakers are definitely not appropriate for an interview. 

He throws your warmest coat at you, grab his keys, and by some type of miracle, you’re both out to the door in less than 10 minutes. 

You try to call the elevator, but Minho grabs your arm and leads you to the staircase. His hand never leaving yours, he runs down the stairs and you have no choice but to follow him as fast as you can. 

You can’t count how many times you missed a step and fell at this particularly slippery spot, between the 5th and the 4th floor, but weirdly enough, it doesn’t happen today. 

When you finally reach the ground floor, you exit the complex and Minho hops on his old and rusty bike that he had attached to nearest tree the night before.

“There’s no way I’m riding behind you on this death machine,” you laugh nervously. The memory of that one time Minho convinced you to seat into his bicycle basket (as if you could even realistically fit in it) and you both fell seconds after he started to pedal is coming back to your mind.

Sure, it was after a long night of drinking, you were both tipsy and it was the only way to get you home since you had spent all your uber money at the bar, but still! You’re pretty sure the bruise on your butt hasn’t disappeared to this day.  

“Hurry up,” Minho groans, ignoring your complaint. You unwillingly seat on his flimsy pannier rack and wrap your arms around his torso. 

You haven’t even left, yet you’re already holding onto his puffer jacket for dear life. A giggle escapes your friend’s mouth (which you think is very inappropriate in such a desperate situation) before he lifts his feet off the ground and starts pedaling. 

You try to ignore the loud squeaking of the bicycle drive by shutting your eyes tighter and rehearsing your introduction you have prepared over and over in your head. No matter how hard you are trying, you can’t remember what you are supposed to say just after your age (which, as you can imagine, isn’t really far into your monologue). 

By the way the wind is lashing your face, you can tell Minho has picked up the speed. His breathing is getting louder, his heartbeat faster and you can’t help but think you’re probably way too heavy for him to bike you around like that. Maybe he shouldn’t skip his gym sessions with Chan so often. Or maybe you shouldn’t have eaten the leftover pancakes for breakfast after all.

You find the courage to open your eyelids and are pleased to see you’re already halfway there, probably because every single one of the traffic lights you encounter is green, and your friend is going surprisingly fast. Is luck finally starting to smile upon you? 

Your mad race comes to a halt when you reach the address of your interview. You hop off the bike and so does Minho who, by the way, is a panting mess. He’s barely able to catch his breath, strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, but he’s beaming at you when he realizes you’re just on time. 

“Go” he gasps, pushing you in the direction of the building’s hall. 

You walk up to the glass door but as your hands are about to push it, you pull a 180. Your friend sighs loudly, already knowing what’s coming next. 

“Wait. No. I can’t do this. I’m not prepared” you tell him frantically. “I’m freaking out. I think I’m gonna pass out.” You are now walking in circles, mumbling incoherently. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

Your heart is racing in your chest and your hands are getting clammy at the simple thought of failure. But guess what? You can’t fail if you don’t even try! One more good reason to just go back to bed and forget about your sad life for a good 8 hours, right? 

“Y/N, you’re the most talented person I know, you’re gonna do just fine” Minho catches you in his arm to stop your endless pacing. You would probably think this gesture is endearing if it wasn’t just meant to make sure you couldn’t run for your life.  

“No, I’m not. What if I throw up in front of everybody like that one time during the Romeo and Juliet musical?” You look up at him and his face is only inches away from yours. You’re sure you would be swooning at how beautiful he looks if you weren’t so terrified at this very moment.

“You were nine,” your best friend says, and you swear you have never heard him speak to you in such a sweet tone before. His voice is like honey and lavander but it doesn’t soothe you like it should. 

You manage to break free from his embrace to crouch down, in an attempt to slow down your breathing. If only you had data left, you could be watching those short relaxing videos on your phone. They always work. But no, you had to spent it all on online games, just one week into the month. You really are beyond help.  

“Y/N I know you’re scared, but if you miss out on this opportunity, you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your life.” Minho is lowering himself so that you can hear him, even though you’re curled up in a ball. 

“And I’m warning you, I won’t want to hear you complain about it,” he adds, this whole situation obviously starting to get on his nerves. 

If you were him, you would have probably left a long time ago. But this isn’t your best friend’s way of behaving. You know he would never abandon you no matter how annoying you could be (and you could be very annoying sometimes). After all, he is always the one holding your hair while you puke in the toilets when you had a couple too many drinks.

It takes all your willpower to stand up but there is no other way, you have to do it. You can hear the time ticking dangerously in your mind, as if your brain had turned into a clock.

“You’re right. Slap me,” you say, looking at him straight in the eyes, dead serious. 

“Wha -“

“Slap some sense into me. They do that in movies when people are panicking. It’s like throwing a bucket of cold water in someone’s face. But clearly we don’t have a bucket and we don’t have cold wa- “ you start blabbering. 

“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not gonna slap you!” Your friend isn’t usually that horrified at the thought of beating your ass. In fact, he has felt the desire to rip your head off more than once, especially when you’d steal all the duvet at night, but at this moment he is just scared you might have actually lost your mind.  

“Just fucking do it Minho!” you scream, your hands clenching the front of his grey hoodie he always looks so divine in. 

Minho has never obeyed you, and this is not the day he is going to start. 

He puts both of his hands on the sides of your face and crashes his lips onto yours. 

You would be lying if you said you have never imagined the day your best friend would kiss you. It happens pretty much every single time you look at his cute pout a little too long. But one thing is certain, it isn’t like you pictured it to be at all.

You were convinced your heart would go so wild it would burst out of your chest and your head would spin so furiously you’d lose your balance. You thought your stomach would fill with butterflies to the brim and your whole body would be on fire.

But none of that is happening. On the contrary, every single muscle in your body relaxes under his touch. The way his soft mouth presses gently against yours makes you calmer, almost at peace amongst all this turmoil. 

Minho is kissing all your tension and stress away and you catch yourself letting a sigh of relief escape your parted lips.

As if you have kissed him already hundreds of times in your past life, Minho feels like home. He’s a safe haven you can always take refuge in during troubled times. Ever since the day you met, he has never left your side.

When he breaks away from the kiss, you notice your breath isn’t so ragged and your mind isn’t so foggy anymore. You’re serene. His cold hands are still cupping your face, slightly squishing your cheeks, and you feel like an idiot sandwich for asking him to slap you seconds before.

“That can work too, I guess…” you mutter.  

“You’re okay?” he asks, staring at you with the softest eyes you’ve ever seen.

You just nod, unable to say one more word, and sprint to the entrance, not wanting to make your interviewers wait any longer than they already have.

“Good luck!” You hear him yell just before the door closes behind you and you can’t help but grin from ear to ear.

- - - - - 

Thirty minutes later, you finally step out of the fancy lobby to find a very bored Minho leaning against a tree, patiently waiting for you.

“You’re still here?”

“Of course, I am,” he says, his mouth full of croissant. He gives you a large iced coffee he probably went buying to kill time. Your lips unconsciously curl up into a smile when you notice it comes from the same chain that the one you spilled on your lap on the day you first met him. 

“How did it go?” he asks you, sticking his buttery pastry into your mouth so that you can take a bite.

“Way better than I thought” you answer, right after you swallowed. You hate the way flakes would always get stuck between your teeth. But Minho is always there to warn you about it before anyone else notices, and even pick them for you if you can’t manage to, which, when you think about it, is kind of gross. 

There are two things the boy knows about you: you’re the greatest pessimist on earth and you’d rather die than admit you were wrong (especially if it meant he was right). So for you to even say it wasn’t that bad, means it went phenomenal. 

“I don’t want to say ‘I told you so’ but I told you so.” He smiles so wide you can barely see his eyes anymore. You have to look away, otherwise you know you might become instantly blinded by love.

“Maybe I could use some more of your luck” you mumble, staring at your shoes and kicking the red leaves that were surrounding your feet on this sunny autumn morning. 

“Really? And what makes you think I’ll share it with you,” he teases you, leaning forward to incite you to look at him in the eyes. 

“That.”

Your hand finds the back of his neck and pulls him in, in order to close the space that is still left between your mouths.

At first, Minho stiffens, taken aback by your bold move. But soon enough, he caves into your touch. He kisses you back fervently, like he means it. 

His fingers entagle in your hair, his arm wraps around your waist and his chest presses against your body. You’re melting in his embrace, submerged by a wave of bliss which he alone seems to know the recipe. 

It feels new, yet so familiar. Like it was supposed to happen, like it was written in the stars. 

He tastes like croissant and Americano. Like fortune and fate. 

And you can’t help but think you’re the luckiest person on earth.

Who cares about winning the lottery when Lee Minho is your lucky charm? 

[ayatosmlktea]

A/N: The things you think of while cutting tomatoes. @bakugoustanaccount​ this is for you because you deserve some Bakugou fluff. Sorry if it’s kinda shit. Getting back into writing was way harder than I thought. Culinary School Bakugou AU

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: None, fluff

Pairings: Bakugou x reader

Disclaimer: I know nothing about culinary school. So don’t roast me. I tried my best!

Tags: @babybabydoki​, @thesecretnerd27​

Bakugou was not a man of words, at least not when it came to expressing his feelings. Sure he had no problem giving people a piece of his mind when they pissed him off or when things were not up to his standards. But talking about his actual feelings, like the crush he’d harboured on you for a little over a year? Not a chance in hell were the words coming out of his mouth.

In all honesty, Bakugou wasn’t sure why you stuck around him. He had been such an ass to you the first month of classes, constantly ragging on you for your lack of coordination and time management in the kitchen. In his defense, you were amateur at best and probably shouldn’t have wasted all that money to get into one of the finest culinary schools Japan had to offer.

‘It looked like fun’ was all you had to say. Your reasoning had shook the blond to his core, and he had been certain that you’d drop out within the first week or two if he was being generous. However, much to his surprise you’d been persistent in trying to succeed.

You eventually got fed up with his incessant criticisms and had bit the bullet to ask for his help. Bakugou wasn’t sure what to say, the image of you clearly distressed and face slick with sweat, chef’s coat covered in stains tugged on heartstrings he didn’t know existed. Begrudgingly he agreed, after all it was a boost to his ego.

 He held it over your head ever since, constantly bringing up the cause for your sudden improvement due to his culinary genius. The two of you somehow grew closer after that, more often than not you found yourself over at his apartment until almost four in the morning coming up with new recipes, trying out different flavour combinations and inevitably eating way too much.

“I think this is the best one so far” you manage to get out in between bites of cake.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, dumbass.” He grumbles, flicking your forehead roughly. Sticking your cake clad tongue at you burst into a fit of laughter as Bakugou cringes.

“That’s disgusting,” he muttered carrying empty plates to the sink and running hot water over them.

“Seriously Bakugou, I think you’ll get an A plus with that cake.” Scoffing loudly Bakugou is grateful his back is turned so you can’t see the huge blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Shut up and help me clean up, brat”

“Always so eloquent Katsuki” you grin unaware of the way the sound of his name rolling off your tongue sent his heart into cardiac arrest.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

You were always clumsy, something that Bakugou knew all too well. The amount of times you’d almost cut yourself trying to catch your knife that was about to slide off the counter was enough to guarantee early heart failure in the explosive blond. 

You shared the same workstation as Bakugou and while he was always one to throw himself head first into their assignments for the day; he was finding it harder and harder not to get lost in watching you bite your bottom lip while you read the day’s recipe.

 The dark circles under your eyes a testament to how hard you’d been working to catch up with the rest of the class. Bakugou probably wouldn’t directly tell you but your pairing skills had drastically improved since the first month of classes.

Your knife work was becoming more seamless and uniform and the smile you’d flashed him when your instructor had complimented you on it made his stomach clench with butterflies.

“Thanks I guess” you smirked later that evening. It was now routine for the two of you to hangout after class, going back to either of your apartments to try and get ahead for the next lesson. Plus it helped that you always managed to whip up dinners that rivaled any pricey restaurant you’d ever been taken out to.

“You guess? If it wasn’t for me your ass would be failing” Bakugou retorts hottily, his gaze watching your fingers as they glide a potato across the madalin a little too carelessly for this liking. Your eyes were focused on him, attention not on the extremely sharp blade that was capable of slicing your fingers in half.

“Watch your fingers dumba-” before he can even finish his sentence you yelp in pain pulling your hand back dropping the potato and cradling your fingers against your chest.

“Fuckfuckfuck”  you hiss repeatedly squeezing your fingers together to try and stop the blood from seeping out.

“I fucking told you to be careful!” Bakugou growls grabbing a paper towel and running it under water before wrapping it around your fingers.

“I was being careful!” You shot back through gritted teeth. It was obviously a lie, but you were in pain and your pride was hurt at being called out on your bullshit.

“Tch you’re bleeding all over my floor dumbass, this is careful to you?” Your recklessness annoyed him, and the fact that you weren’t taking it seriously made him even more angry.

“Okay whatever! I’m an idiot, glad we worked that out” you snapped back, the painful throbbing of your fingers was making it hard to match Bakugou’s sarcastic energy like you usually did.

You didn’t want to look at your fingers as he unwrapped the soaked towel from around them, the sight of all that blood was making you light headed and before you knew it you were hyperventilating.

“Oi, stop freaking out! It doesn’t look that bad! I don’t think you need stitches.” He shouts and while it would have made anyone else freak out more it helped you calm down. If Bakugou was calm, something was definitely wrong.

“Hold this tightly” he grumbled before disappearing into the bathroom.

Against your better judgement you looked at the gash across your pinky and ring finger. They were fairly large cuts but at least you couldn’t see your bone...right?

“Didn’t I tell you to hold it?” Bakugou’s voice makes your shoulders jump, a guilty smile on your face as you press the wet towel over your fingers. It made you squeamish but you knew that bleeding out was far less appealing than a few minutes of pain.

“Since when did you get a first aid kit?”

“Since I became friends with your clumsy ass” he muttered under his breath.

“Did you just call us friends? Wow, I truly have peaked. Thank you God”

“Shut up or I’ll kick you out”

“You wouldn’t dare” you were right, he wouldn’t have. But you didn’t need to know that.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

Throughout the next year your friendship with the blond only grew. You had met his close group of friends who he would never call his family, but you had learned to read between the lines with Bakugou. Mina often commented on you being the only other girl he’d managed to get close to in his life, and while you blew her off every single time it made your stomach flutter with butterflies at the possibility of something more.

Bakugou paid attention to a lot of things, even if it didn’t seem like it. Small pieces of yourself that you revealed in passing casual conversations stuck to his brain like glue. 

The longer you stuck around him, the harder it was becoming to push down the growing feelings he had for you. There were only so many times he could watch you bite your lip without imagining tugging it between his own teeth. It was the last class before you would have two weeks of in between semesters. Two weeks where Bakugou wouldn’t see you on a daily basis, he wasn’t even sure if you wanted to keep practicing together although he hoped you’d ask him to rather than having to bring it up himself.

“My fingers are about to cramp in this position forever” you huff, adjusting the grip around your knife before continuing to peel potatoes. A stray piece of your hair had fallen from your bun and without thinking Bakugou reached out and tucked it behind your ear. 

You stopped mid-sentence as the tips of your ears turned bright red. When his brain finally caught up to his actions Bakugou didn’t speak to you for the rest of the class, the pounding in his chest was almost painful. He had left before you had finished cleaning up your station.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

He ignored your texts and calls, he needed to sort out his feelings. He hadn’t expected to let you this close to him, to worm your way into his heart and become a part of his routine. He didn’t want to fall in love with you, but everything about you that he had found annoying quickly turned into everything he loved about you. 

The crinkle of your nose when you didn't understand something, the way you wandered over to his station to steal extra pastries off of him. Your compliments always made his heart skip a beat, it shouldn’t have been so important to him but Bakugou found himself craving your praise more than your instructor.

Slamming the door closed a little harder than was necessary he dumped his bag on the floor and headed to the bathroom to take a shower. He needed to get your smell off of him, his fingers still tingled with electricity if he thought back to the feeling of skin under his touch.

Bakugou couldn’t deny that he had more fun with you than when he was working alone. Even if you did get distracted every five seconds. It was stupid, you occupied every waking thought he had. He couldn’t even cook without turning to you to get your opinion on a recipe before realizing you weren’t there.

 The empty pit that dropped in his stomach every time he thought about messaging you only grew as the days dragged on. You hadn’t messaged him since last week and it was a little pathetic to admit that every notification ping had his heart racing, hoping that it was you. 

But why would you do that when it was him who had started this war. Bakugou’s pride was going to be the death of him, he would have rather died than admit that he was in love with you. His stubbornness wouldn’t allow himself to admit that he needed you more than he had wanted to believe. So what if time passed slower without you, he’d find things to fill the void. So what if he missed the sound of your laugh, it didn’t matter. He had other friends.

Nothing tasted good anymore, there was always something missing in everything he cooked. He couldn’t be bothered to try anymore, most of his nights ended with the kitchen in a mess and him cursing loudly in frustration. You were missing. He couldn’t fight it anymore, he needed to apologize. Everything felt incomplete without you. Classes were starting in a few days and he knew he needed to fix things before then.

Come over for dinner. At 8. If you’re late I’m not letting you in.

Wow, not even a hello.

It’s free food, dumbass.

Fine.

Bakugou’s hands trembled slightly as he put his phone down, it was far from perfect but it was a start. Throwing on his jacket he felt a surge of excitement and passion that he hadn’t felt for nearly two weeks.

He would make it up to you.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

Your stomach growled as you stepped foot into Bakugou’s apartment. You were still mad at him for ignoring you but God if his cooking wasn’t enough to make your resolve crumble.

“7:59, you’re really cutting it close huh?”

“I was debating whether to come or not” you replied smoothly, hanging your jacket on the coat rack. Your answer felt like little needles poking him in the chest, this was going to be much more difficult than he had anticipated. 

Bakugou noticed that you looked more put together than one the days he’d invited you to come over and cook before and he couldn’t help but wonder if it had anything to do with your feelings towards him. Not that he was complaining, the outfit you had chosen hugged your body in all the right places, not to mention your lips were looking extra kissa-snap out of it. If he messed it up now there would be no going back.

It’s not a date. You repeatedly told yourself, and yet you had still put in more effort than you should have. Maybe you had worn your sheer lacy black top on purpose, it was just a confidence boost after all. And most definitely not because you were trying to give him a sneak peek of what was under it.

It had been far too long since you had invaded his personal space and the smell of his cologne had your body buzzing with nervous energy. You had hoped that after the hair incident something would have happened between the two of you. But you hadn’t expected him to ignore you. You shouldn’t have been surprised, it shouldn’t have hurt, but all the nights you had spent at his place had you feeling like maybe there was room for something more.

“Whatcha making?” You asked peering over his shoulder.

“It’s a surprise” he muttered, turning around to push you out of the kitchen.

“Well I can still smell it” you retort, swerving around him to turn on the oven light but before you could reach it Bakugou grabbed your waist and tugged you backwards.

“I said it’s a surprise! Don’t go and ruin it”

“You’re no fun Katsuki” you sigh, trying to act as nonchalant as possible while his palms burn their imprint against your skin.

“Trust me Y/N! Stop making this harder than it needs to be!” There was no winning against Bakugou when he was in a stubborn mood. Pouting you make your way back to the couch because you weren’t allowed to be in the kitchen until it was time to eat.

 It felt oddly comfortable being in his apartment, you’d never really been left to entertain yourself before. If you closed your eyes it almost felt like he was your boyfr-nope. You were not going to go down that road. Every rational thought was screaming at you that it was stupid to believe he harboured any feelings for you, especially after what had happened two weeks ago.

“Oi Y/N! If you wanna eat, get your ass up” Bakugou shouted from the kitchen and you snapped out of your daydream. Definitely not your boyfriend…

You were ready to whip out a snarky comment but the words caught in your throat at the sight before you. It was...dare you say romantic. Bakugou’s eyes were watching you intently while you struggled to gather your thoughts. The room was dimly lit with a few candles, your eyes glued to the dish of pasta in front of you.

“Are you just gonna stare or are you actually going to eat?” Bakugou pulls out your chair and the cage that were guarding your butterflies was threatening to break open.

“I’ve never seen anyone make lasagna look so...romantic” You laugh, letting him push your seat in for you.

“It’s your favourite isn’t it?” He asks with a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips. Your heart is hammering forcefully against your ribcage, in the entire year you’d been friends with Bakugou you’d only mentioned it a handful of times. To be honest you weren’t even sure he had been listening to you, the reasons behind  his motives for making your favourite dish had your cheeks heating up.

“I didn’t think you’d remember that” you mumbled.

“I remember a lot of things” For some reason the way he says it has you clinging onto a hope you know you shouldn’t. Bakugou was not in love with you, it was purely coincidence that he’d made your favourite meal.

It didn’t mean anything.

At least that’s what you tried telling yourself, until he brought desert out. Conversation had eventually begun to flow easier than it had in the beginning, probably due to the two glasses of wine that you’d consumed. You weren’t tipsy but you were definitely feeling bolder than before.

“Is that what I think it is?” you gasp as Bakugou sets down a pie tin. The surge of pride he feels at your wide eyed stare was comparable to nothing else. You can feel your mouth watering as he cuts you a piece of cheesecake.

“Ohmygod Katsuki this is so good!” you moan as you take a bite of cheesecake. It’s salted caramel, your favourite.  Something weird was happening, something you might not have had the balls to pursue under normal circumstances. Liquid courage igniting your veins, you force yourself to make eye contact with crimson orbs and ask the question you weren’t sure you wanted an answer to.

“Why did you ignore me?” You can almost see the wheels turning in his head, and for a second you wish you could melt into the floor and disappear. The silence was suffocating and you seriously considered just grabbing your coat and dashing out of his apartment.

“It’s okay if you do-”

“I have feelings for you”

His words shock you and for a moment you can’t tell if what you had heard was a figment of your imagination.

“What?” every nerve in your body is on edge, fight or flight system ready to bolt the hell out of his apartment if things go wrong.

“I have feelings for you, dumbass! For a whole year, and I didn’t want to deal with it because I’m scared to fuck it up! I’m not good with words, the only way I can express myself is through cooking.” It takes a moment for it to click in your mind but his amused scoff and eye roll when your eyes light up with recognition are almost endearing.

“Wait, so you did all this...to confess?”

“Isn’t that just what I said?”

“So, what if I said I liked you too?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, your throat suddenly felt way too dry.

“Then I’d kiss you” Your stomach was doing somersaults and you were sure that under normal circumstances the nerves alone would have made you puke.

“I like you too Katsuki” the look Bakugou gives you is almost feral and before you can react he’s already moved to cup your face in his hands. The second his lips touch yours, the cage inside your stomach breaks open and butterflies are spreading throughout your body. Your hands tangle themselves in soft blond locks, angling your face to deepen the kiss. His tongue swipes along your bottom lip and you respond without hesitation. You can taste salted caramel on his tongue and it has your head spinning. Who knew Bakugou Katsuki was such a good kisser. Maybe he was boyfriend material after all.

[descendantofthesparrow]

Shuffle Playlist - Rewrite - Part of Your World - part 13 - Safe and sound

=

You woke up to Evie gently pushing at your shoulder Hey, we’re back” she whispered, carefully stepping over your legs and out of the limo, Carlos and Dude exiting just behind her. You groaned as you released Harry's hand and unwound your arm from around his shoulder, you cupped his cheek, and rubbed your thumb against it to wake him up.

Gil stretched and groaned as his back cracked, he looked down and poked Harry's forehead “Dude, come on wake up, we’re home” Harry slowly blinked awake, wincing in pain as he slowly sat up “Woah are you still hurting?”

“Sore” Harry muttered,  letting his head fall back on the seat as he tried to stretch out his legs “I think Mal's spell took away the main stuff but I gotta deal with the end healing shit”

“ouch,” you muttered, grabbing onto Harry's hands and tugging him out of the car “come on, let's get you a hot shower or something, you need to relax after the last two days, and plus you don’t smell all that good” Harry snorted at that and grabbed onto the door frame to lean on as he got out of the limo.

“yeh try being a nasty ass cell for two days with no bathroom” he joked, giving you a soft smile when you just looked at him. “sorry, yeh know that’s how I deal with stuff love” you rolled your eyes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“yeah yeah, come on” you intertwined your hand with Harry’s and walked after the others who were just a little ways ahead of you. Gil stepped to Harry’s other side and tossed his arm around his neck, not wanting to let go yet.

Lonnie walked off towards the school building, waving the group goodbye as she went to go put away the fencing swords.

“Ben! There you are!” Jane rushed up to Ben's side, holding her tablet in her arms “Cotillion is tomorrow!” she ushered him closer, showing him the stained-glass window design “This is your design for Mal's window, isn’t it beautiful she’s gonna love it!” Ben turned away from Jane and leaned close to Mal, whispering to her;

“Hey…should we cancel?” Mal looked up at him, if they suddenly canceled the day before the cotillion, the press would go wild, and Mal didn’t know how to deal with that.

She slightly shook her head, Jane saw their looks and attempted to backtrack for a bit to come back later. You smiled at Harry and walked up to Ben, tapping his shoulder to make him turn to you.

“Tomorrow is exactly six months since the vks came, just change what we're celebrating” you whispered, Mal and Ben, grinning at you as you said it.

“Actually…that's perfect” Ben muttered, turning back to Jane and nodding at her “Yeah, um, no it's fine…looks good.” he turned to Mal, nodding at her “Do whatever you need to do” she nodded back, watching him walk off with Jane.

Evie linked her arm with Mal’s and started to guide her to a private area “We need to talk” Evie muttered, Mal letting out a small sigh, she had already explained mostly everything on the isle, but there were still some things to be said.

“Yeah” Mal muttered back, the two girls stopped as Carlos stepped behind them.

“No.” Evie and Mal turned, their brows furrowed in confusion.

“No?” Evie asked, slightly appalled at Carlos’ random objection.

Carlos licked his lips, glancing at Jay before looking back at the girls “you guys are always going off in a huddle, whispering your…girl-talk stuff, or whatever…and Jay and I are tired of it!” Jay shook his head immediately, holding up his hands a bit.

“I’m not.” he shrugged as Carlos glared at him a bit. Carlos rolled his eyes and looked back at Mal and Evie.

“We’re you’re family too. We’ve been through a lot, together…and I’m not stopping that now, okay?” it was a moment of silence as everyone stared at Carlos, who watched Mal as she nodded in agreement. With her approval, Carlos looked to Jay and Evie “Everyone sit” he plopped down to the ground, looking up at everyone as they just raised their brows “Come on” as Jay, Evie, and Mal slowly sat down on the grass, Carlos turned, stopping you, Gil, and Harry in your tracks as you walked towards the dorms. “you too!”

You gestured to Harry, who was about two seconds from falling asleep again “I said everyone sit, this is a mandatory VK meeting” he yelled, smirking as Gil shrugged and helped Harry over to the circle, Harry sitting down next to Carlos as Gil plopped down next to Jay. You shuffled your feet awkwardly before Carlos turned back and nodded his head towards the circle “I said all of us, that includes honorary VKs” you gave a small smile and walked over, sitting down next to Harry and snorting a bit as he leaned into you, arm wrapping around your waist.

It was silent for a moment as everyone stared at each other awkwardly, before Carlos broke the silence again. “I don’t know how to start girl talk” you snorted, pressing your face into Harry’s side.

Jay pursed his lips, shrugging a bit “what up?” Evie laughed a bit, as Mal took a deep breath.

“Well…I’m a mess” she started, letting out a sigh as she started to pull grass from the ground “I’m such a fucking mess, like-six months ago I was stealing candy from babies and planning to take over the world and now-now everyone seems to want me to be this picture-perfect princess who never messes up and I’m just so stressed because it was such a sudden change and I've been freaking out for the last five months? And-and I broke up with Ben because I realized that I’m NOT ready for a relationship yet and-and it was moving so damn fast-and” Mal was speaking so quickly she hardly had time to take a breath. You finally decided to butt in, grabbing onto her moving hand.

“Woah woah woah, slow down Mal, take a long deep breath and hold it” Mal followed your instructions, taking a deep breath and holding it as you held your hand up. “Now let it go, slowly” as you lowered your hand, Mal followed with releasing her breath, her slightly glowing stressed eyes calming as her shoulders slumped “Better?”

She gave a watery smile and nodded, reaching up and rubbing at her eyes to rid of the stress tears “Yeah, thank you” you nodded, squeezing her hand before letting it go and leaning back against Harry.

“Now, Mal” she looked back up at you “ I’m going to give it to you straight, all of what you just ranted about? Your fault” Evie gasped, grabbing onto Mal's shoulders and attempting to rebuttal but Mal knocked her hands off and sighed.

“No Evie, I need to hear this, I’m not six years old needing to be given the happy dappy glitter version of everything” she looked back at you, nodding for you to continue.

You nodded back “Having to be ‘a perfect princess’? no one ever made you do that, that was all on your own. The fast relationship with Ben…okay that’s on both of you, yall NEVER talk about anything and in Auradon, it’s filled with people who get married after knowing each other for three hours, so it's on him for not asking you if you were okay with moving that fast and it's on you for not telling him you aren’t comfortable moving that fast.” Mal pressed her lips together and nodded, looking down at her hands that were clenched on her pants. “and good on you for breaking up with Ben” she looked back up with wide eyes “because in my world, yall “broke up” for like three hours before getting back together, into a toxic relationship might I add, so I’m proud of you for taking the mature step and breaking up with him…for what reason?” Mal shrugged.

“Mental stuff, it was going too fast and he kinda…doesn’t help with my…what did you call it?” you hummed and looked off for a moment.

“um, god complex?” she pointed at you and nodded.

“Yeah that, he doesn’t…try to call me out on anything, like-yes he got angry with me for using magic to cheat with my lady of the court stuff and I get why he got angry with me, but…he doesn’t call me out on the important stuff like….okay two months ago, I royally fucked up with Jane and I kinda…insulted her, I didn’t mean to but it slipped out and, Ben was right there and he did…nothing, no ‘Mal that was mean go apologize’ no ‘Mal think before you speak’ nothing, he just stood there and acted like I had done nothing wrong!” you clicked your tongue.

“He did that with Audrey too, she's more passive-aggressive on things and petty as all hell, and when she would, well, insult Jane for her hair, or Lonnie for preferring sports over mani-pedis, he acted like she didn’t say anything at all. That’s something he needs to work on, and I think he does that because of his parents.” The vks looked at you confused “Well look at them, Beast locked all the villains away on an isle and kept you all on there as if you had done something to the people in Auradon, when you didn’t you are all innocent kids just trying to survive, not once did Belle speak up against that, and that’s something she passed down to Ben, she ignores the red flags in someone because she loves him and in turn that encourages his behavior! That’s what Ben does with you and what he did with Audrey, you both have some nasty habits, Audrey’s passive-aggressiveness, and your lying tendencies.

He needs to see that what he has been taught is wrong, just like you’re learning what was wrong with your parent's teachings, you don’t need to lie or cheat your way through life, sometimes just being true to yourself and others gets you farther than anything else. Ben needs to learn that he doesn’t have to stand by and watch as everything else happens around him, he was able to break free of that before with bringing you six over but then…he lost it, and I don’t know what happened but he was so adamant of giving you guys a chance and was protective over you and then….I don’t know, he just…changed”

It was a few moments of tense silence as the VKs realized Ben had changed throughout the last couple of months.  You waved off your rand “Sorry, that got away from me there, but we can talk about it properly later, but Mal, no one forced you to change, no one, that was all you. And I know you were only thinking of being accepted by the people of Auradon but that wasn’t good, you don’t NEED to be accepted by everyone in the world, you don’t NEED to be liked by everyone, because there's always going to be a handful of people who don’t, and that’s okay. What's important now is that you find yourself and become a better person in turn, yeah?”

Mal took a shuddering breath and nodded, giving you a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah…thank you (y/n)” she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around you tightly “I needed that”

You patted her back “I’m always here to give it to you straight” Mal pulled back and rubbed her eyes.

“Well…this was dumb” Jay muttered, starting to stand when Evie stopped him.

“Maybe it wasn’t” she took Mal's hand, smiling at you for a moment before looking back at the vks “We’re always gonna be the kids from the isle…I tried to forget it…I really tried. But those are our roots, and I know you two, Harry and Gil” they perked up a bit, raising their brows “never tried to forget it like I did…or Mal did. But there's really nothing to be ashamed of for being from the isle, because it made us into who we are today, we’re villain kids, and that’s never going to change.” Harry, Gil, and Carlos gave her a look as if they were saying.

‘We were never trying to change it but okay?’ Evie waved her hand at them in dismissal.

“Point is, there is no reason we have to change for anybody because who we are right now, is great…because it’s us” Mal smiled at Evie and leaned into her side, squeezing her hand “and if they don’t like us for being isle kids….tough shit” you cackled at that.

“oohohoh! The princess swore! Not something you hear every day!” Evie rolled her eyes as the rest of the VKs laughed at your remark. She turned to Mal.

“I’m going to make some changes to your dress, and if you’re up for it, only if you’re up for it…it'll be waiting for you” Mal nodded, leaning into Evie as she wrapped her arms around Mal's shoulders and hugged her.

Evie looked at you and mouthed; ‘thank you’ you nodded back and stood, holding out your hand to Harry and helping him stand. The others stood moments later and started walking towards the dorms, Jay's arm tossed over Mal's shoulder as they walked side by side.

You sighed, turning to Harry with a smile “How bout a self-care afternoon huh?” Harry grinned at that and nodded, leaning into you as you took his hand again and walked back to the dorms.

“I’m starving, see you guys later!” Gil walked the opposite way of you, waving you goodbye as he walked over to the cafeteria.

“See ya Gil!” you yelled back, leaning your head on Harry’s shoulder as he moved his arm around your neck.

-

Carlos smirked as Jane rushed past him with a panicked look. “Jane!” he called, laughing a bit as the girl jumped and spun around to look at him.

“Carlos!” she rushed up to him and grabbed his shoulder “do you know where Gil is?!” Carlos snickered and pointed towards the cafeteria.

“yeah, he went to go get food, good luck!” Jane grinned at Carlos and spun on her heel, running towards the cafeteria, pulling out a small box and a sparkly blue envelope from her bag.

It was only one more day till cotillion! And she didn’t want to risk losing Gil to someone else asking him to it…and she didn’t want to ladle punch AGAIN.

“Gil!” he spun around, a small smile growing on his face as she got closer.

“Hey Jane what’s-woah!” she tripped on thin air and flew forward, Gil lunged forward, easily catching her and setting her back on her feet “Careful Jane! Don’t wanna hurt that pretty face of yours” Janes face burned at Gil's words “Sorry, slip of the tongue again heh” he rubbed the back of his neck, glancing back at the cafeteria “So um-what did you…oh!”

Jane looked to the ground and shoved the box and envelope towards Gil. he gently took them from her and opened the box first, humming at the Orange and Blue decorated cupcake that sat inside, he quickly pulled it out, handed the box back to Jane, and ate it. Smirking as Jane giggled at the dollop of orange buttercream on his nose.

He finished off the cupcake and wiped the dollop of blue edible sprinkle covered buttercream off his nose and licked it. He opened the letter and let out a small gasp.

Written on the letter, in Jane’s curly neat handwriting; was an invitation to him.

He slowly looked up from the letter, smiling a bit as he looked at her shy form, her hands covering her burning red cheeks. He folded the letter ad put it in his pocket, reaching out and gently grasping Jane's hands and pulling them off her face. He chuckled at her closed eyes and leaned forward, pecking her forehead. Jane squeaked and looked up at him, her entire face turning red as she stared at him. “You can take that as a Yes, I forgave you a while ago after you made me a cake after your…fiftieth, apology” he laughed “Well I forgave you before that but I realized I still liked you when you did that” Jane giggled, then stopped.

“You-you still like me?” she mumbled, covering her mouth as if she had spilled the world's biggest secret. Gil nodded, smiling as Jane squeaked again.

“I do, and I would be happy to go to cotillion with you…wait our outfits, what if they don’t match?!” he stood, running his fingers through his hair as his eyes blew wide. Jane laughed, reaching out and grabbing his hands.

“Okay okay! I have-I have a solution” she giggled for a moment at his confused yet relieved look “Evie has some ribbon leftover from my dress, you can wear it as a hair tie! And I-I’ll wear one of your bracelets!” Gil grinned, bouncing in place a bit.

“That sounds amazing! Yeah, let's do that” some passing students smiled and shook their heads at the excited maybe-once-again-couple and entered the cafeteria.

“and-and maybe if you don’t hate me again after all of this, maybe, maybe we can get back together?” Jane tried, squealing as Gil nodded and leaned in to kiss her cheek.

“that would be amazing Jane” Gil hummed, rubbing the girl's arms and looking back at the cafeteria “um, food?” Jane clapped her hands, grabbing one of Gils and pulling him into the building.

“Yes! Food!”

-

You turned off the hot running water and stuck your hand into the bubbly hot bathwater, nodding to yourself. “Kay Harry, it's ready!” you shook your hand off and dried it on your pants, walking out of your pretty large bathroom and cooing as you walked out to see Harry curled up on your bed “okay I know you're tired but!”

you climbed onto the bed and gently shook his shoulder, pouting at him as he grumpily looked up at you “you need to take a bath, you stink, your dirty, and it'll help with the soreness” Harry let out a harsh breath, blowing your hair back a bit and sat up, undoing his shoes and letting them drop to the floor, tossing his jacket back at you and walking into the bathroom.

He closed the door and you heard the sound of clothing hit the floor as you gathered up his jacket and hung it in your closet. You walked back over to the bathroom and yelled through the door; “I’m gonna get some   comfy clothes for you okay?!” “Thank yeh love” he yelled back sleepily, you smiled as you heard the sound of water being splashed around. You kicked his fallen boots out of the way and went to his shared room with Gil. you let out a small sigh as you rummaged through his dresser and pulled out a soft long-sleeved shirt with a compass stitch on the chest, black sweatpants, a pair of boxer briefs, deciding to grab a pair of his socks as well before shutting the drawers and walking back to your room.

You knocked on the bathroom door and pushed it open, peeking around the corner to see harry almost completely in the water, only his head to be seen above the bubbles. His bright blue eyes staring straight at you. You lifted up the pile of clothes “got you a change of clothes, they will be on the counter for you when you’re ready” you set the pile on the counter opposite of the bath and turned to walk out of the bathroom to give him some privacy when he whined and reached out to you. You turned with an exasperated laugh “I swear you were a cat with separation anxiety in your past life or something” you snorted, walking over to the bathtub and crouching down next to it, your eyes level with Harry’s now. “Not that it’s a bad thing though.”

He hung his arm over the edge of the tub, making a grabby hand at you and grinning sleepily when you intertwined your fingers with his. You rested your chin on the edge of the bathtub and closed your eyes, just enjoying the peace that you finally had with Harry after a crazy two days of him being missing.

Wait- you perked up, looking down at the water and smirking as the water was no longer clear, but blue and shimmery and smelling of lavender, ocean salt, and a slight hint of vanilla. “You used my bath bombs didn’t you~” you teased, lifting up Harry's hand and pressing your lips to the back of it. He gave a shy smile and shrugged.

“It looked nice” he mumbled, closing his eyes and resting his head against the back of the tub.

“Well, it's fine, go crazy with my shit, anything to help you relax” you sat up and pressed a kiss to his forehead “You deserve some pampering after the days you’ve had” he hummed with a dopey smile on his face, cracking his eyes open as you stood and walked away. As he whined, you turned, smiling as he pouted at you. “I’ll be just outside the door baby” he turned red at the pet name and turned away from you. You chuckled and closed the door most of the way “I’ll leave the door open, yell if you need anything.”

“Kay” was his only response, you snorted a bit and turned, putting your hands on your hips as you overlooked your room…time to do a little R&R redecorating.

First, hang fairy lights above your bed, next, get some big ass blankets and sheets…there should be some extras in the back of your closet.

-

Half an hour after he got in the bath, Harry narrowed his eyes at the large grey basket slightly hidden in the nook below your bathroom counter. You did say he could use any of your stuff. He pulled at the box, smiling a bit at the array of self-care items, ranging from simple face wash to charcoal foam face masks and the little paddles that allowed easy appliance.

He ran his hand through his freshly shampooed hair, which smelled like (fav shampoo/conditioner), and the waft of your (fav body wash smell) body wash floating up, making him inhale your sent with a smile.

He let out a little sigh and rummaged through the basket, brow-raising as he spotted an exfoliating mud mask. He pulled out the small container it was in and nodded, it would do. He grabbed a small bottle of face moisturizer and stood, walking to the door and pulling it open, mouth dropping open at what he saw.

The curtains to your room were closed, shutting it in near darkness, the only light being the soft yellow fairy lights that hung just above your bed, hidden from the rest of the room by large sheets and blankets laying across the bedposts and pinned to the walls.

“Wow,” he muttered, walking into the room and setting the cosmetics on the bed, sitting down and smiling up at the soft lights.

“Like it?” he nodded as you re-entered the room and set your now full bag next to him, he looked down at the bag, tilting his head curiously “I got some snacks that I didn’t have in my room” you pulled out a bag of popped popcorn and handed him the bag, he carefully opened it as you got out more snacks and set them on the bed “So I was thinking, movie cuddle afternoon, and then…I was thinking I could paint your nails?” you suggested, squealing a bit in happiness as Harry grinned at you and nodded “really?” “Aye, sounds fun, what color?” he stuck a handful of popcorn in his mouth and looked at you, smiling as you flicked off stray corn from his lip.

“Black to red ombre, then-your hair is still wet” you sighed, turning to walk back into the bathroom and grab a dry towel. You walked back up to harry and motioned for him to lean towards you, he obeyed and you ruffled the towel in his hair, biting your lip as it already started to floof up. “Actually” you stopped, throwing the towel around his neck and turning back to the bathroom “Better idea”

Harry bobbed his head a bit, listening to the non-existent music in his head as you did whatever in the bathroom. His eyes dropped a bit as he reached next to him and grabbed the box of fruit snacks.

“There we go” he perked up a bit as you suddenly appeared beside him with a hairdryer “Stand up” Harry looked at you with squinted eyes as you plugged the device into the socket next to your bed, eyes following you as you moved to stand in front of him “…Alright then” you stepped up on the bed next to him and plopped down behind him, grabbing his shoulder and guiding him to lean into you.

He happily did so and almost purred as you started to dry his hair, your fingers rubbing comfortingly at his scalp. Five minutes later and Harry was almost asleep, heavily leaning into your hand as you gently guided it around to dry his hair properly. As you felt the warm dry fluffy hair, you nodded to yourself and turned off the hair drier, setting it next to you and letting your hands run through Harry's hair.

He groaned a bit and fell back, cheek resting against your collar bone as you scratched his head. Harry suddenly jumped as a knock suddenly sounded on your door. You gently lifted him out of your lap and let him flop back on the blankets.

You walked over to the door and opened it “Oh!” you stepped outside and closed the door behind you “Fergus! What’s up?”

He furrowed his brows, looking down at your outfit. You glanced down, wincing a bit “That…outfit aside. Ah haven't seen ye or Harry fur a'maist twa days, is everything okay?” you pursed your lips in thought, before sighing.

“Mal went back to the isle and Harry went with her” you held up your hand to stop him from interrupting “Both of them are back now and Harry went through some shit when he was there, right now we're both just relaxing until tomorrow…okay?” Fergus glanced back up at your door and slowly nodded.

“Harry...he's okay sricht?” you paused, Fergus’s eyes widened for a moment “Ye hesitated” he pointed out, gritting his teeth anxiously as you waved him off.

“I did…Harry’s dad is a piece of shit that’s all I’ll say, if you need to know anything else, either ask Harry or ask me to get permission from him, I won't just blab away about what happened” Fergus nodded, reaching up and patting your shoulder.

“A'richt then... I’ll see ye twa efter okay?” you smiled at him and patted his arm, turning to walk back into your room.

“See you later” you opened the door and stepped inside, shutting the door with your foot. You looked down at your outfit and sighed, you were still in full isle gear, minus the hook and sword. You shrugged off Harry’s jacket and tossed it on your desk chair.

You walked over to your dresser and grabbed one of Harry’s black long sleeves that you had commandeered from him a few weeks back and a pair of black sweats.

You walked over to the bathroom, cooing at Harry already curled up in your large red fluffy blanket, tufts of dark brown-black hair peeking out from the top and light snores reaching your ears.

You walked into the bathroom and quickly changed, you walked back out and placed your boots next to Harry’s, and chucked your old set of clothes into your laundry.

You cleaned up the scattered snacks on the bed and set them on your table set by your tv. You grabbed the cosmetics Harry had put on your bed and walked over to the side he was mostly laying on, shaking his shoulder a bit. He grumbled and popped his head out of the folds of the blanket, sleepy ocean blue staring into you “Don’t you want to do the face stuff?” he slowly nodded as his mind caught up to your words and sat up, the blanket falling around his hips. He patted his cheeks to wake himself a bit and grabbed the items from you, spreading the mud mask on his face as you turned on the tv and went through your movies.

“So, what are we watching” you asked, tilting your head towards Harry a bit, wanting to hear what his maybe request would be.

“Um, Ah dinnae know...something lighthearted?” he tried, his accent slipping deeper than usual. You giggled a bit, poor baby, so tired.

“Um, how bout…Pirates of the Caribbean; Dead man's chest?” Harry almost snapped awake at that, he grinned and nodded enthusiastically. “Okay, it's not light-hearted buts it a hella good movie”

You put in the blue-ray disc and walked back over to the bathroom, taking out your black and red nail polish, along with the top and bottom coats. “Alright scooch forward” Harry did so, eyes locked onto the Tv. You sat behind him, legs on either side of his torso, and grabbed onto his shoulder, pulling him towards your chest, his head resting just beneath your chin. “Hand please” he lifted his right hand, letting you grab onto it and start painting his nails.

The next twenty minutes of you painting his nails and him watching the movie were silent and calming, you felt Harry almost drift off multiple times before snapping back awake when someone spoke or action exploded on the screen. You cursed as you had forgotten the hardening nail UV light thing to let Harry move his hands without worrying about ruining the polish. You patted his shoulder, making him whine again as your warmth disappeared from his back. You returned moments later, resuming the position you had and hardening the polish on his nails.

You glanced at his face, admiring the flutter of his lashes as he fought off sleep, before the mud mask caught your eye “shit!” you once more got off the bed, laughing a bit at Harry's loud complaint as you got a washcloth wet “your mask dummy!” he shut up, scooching towards you as you walked toward him with the wet and warm cloth.

He grabbed it from you and cleaned off the mask, stopping a bit as you opened the bottle of moisturizer and dolloped some on your finger. He dried his face with his sleeve and hummed as you dabbed it on his face and rubbed it into his skin for him “Ta loue” he murmured, you gave him a look and snorted.

“um, English please?” you laughed, pecking his nose and moisturizing your face before putting away the cosmetics.

Harry pouted and shook his head “Thank yeh love” he murmured again, smiling sleepily as you grinned at him.

“You’re welcome baby” you grinned as his face turned pink again. “Come on, how does falling asleep to Pirates of the Caribbean sound?” Harry grinned, tightening his grip on your fluffy red blanked and waiting for you to lay down on the bed before flopping on your chest and nuzzling into your neck.

You felt Harry’s soft breath on your neck as his body relaxed, you closed your eyes, reaching up and placing your hand on the back of his neck, rubbing your thumb as you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.

“A loue ye (y/n)” a soft whisper brushed against your senses, only able to be heard because your ear was right next to his mouth.

You felt a tear slip down your cheek and you wrapped your other arm around his shoulder and held him tighter.

“I love you too Harry”

-end of part 13-

aaand part 13! and we are officially back in Auradon! Mal gets a talking to, Bens weird passiveness is “explained” (and soon to be “fixed”) Jane asked out Gil and he said yes~ and some harry n (y/n) fluff! thanks to @sephiralorange​ for giving me the self care idea n Harry using (y/n) products~!. yes i made the art, i couldn't help myself! next chapter! the last stretch to Cotillion! and to answer anyone's possible question about what happened to Davy? lets just say there's Davy wont be doing anything with his left hand for....well never lol.

hopefully that rewritten vk “girl” talk made sense, but i do want to say if it does sound like im ragging on Ben, i wasn't trying to, i was just trying to possibly explain why he acts like he does in D2 and beyond. also i love Audrey as a character but she's kinda nasty lol 

anyway! permtaglist!

@queer-cosette​ @sephiralorange​

@lunanight2012​ @daughter-of-the-stars11​

@musicarose​ @random-thoughts-003​

@remembered-license​ @imtryingthisout​

@verboetoperee​ @rintheemolion​ @thecaptainsgingersnap​

@descendantsobsessed​ 

taglist

@thesailbells​ @beccad10x​

[kpophours]

The Shape of You

➵ The Boyz: Sunwoo x fem. reader / one shot, soulmate AU, college AU / fluff

➵ warnings: slight cursing

➵ word count: 2.8k

You curse under your breath, dragging the pencil over the paper in front of you, adding two more lines to your drawing. Your fingers begin to cramp, but you try to push through the slight pain, desperate to finish this today. Suddenly, your door bursts open, making you jump and squeal, pencil falling from your hand. You quickly scan your drawing and sigh in relief when you see you didn’t mess it up. You swivel in your chair to glare at your roommate and best friend, the person responsible for giving you a miniature heart attack, but her bright smile makes you soften immediately. “I made dinner!”, she says, wiping her hands on the pink apron she’s wearing, the bold red lettering reading ‘don’t judge, I’m not a professional cook’ - you gave it to her last Christmas, and it makes you smile every time you see it, the quote an inside joke between you two, “I already called you a few times but I guess you’ve been too absorbed in your work.” You return her smile and nod. “Yeah, sorry. I really want to finish this tonight.”, you explain, and she crosses the room to peer over your shoulder, her eyes taking in the soft lines and dark shadows of your drawing, “What- no, who is that? Is that… Is that him?”, Hannah asks, and tilts her head to one side. You shrug, cheeks heating up. “Yeah, that’s the face I’ve been seeing in my dreams. It has been less blurry these last few nights, and I can finally remember more details.”, you murmur, fingers gently tracing the outlines of the face you’ve been trying to draw.

A sharp jawline, dark hair falling into incredibly big, deep eyes. You’ve been seeing small glimpses of this face in your dreams for years now - not every night, but more often than not. During most of those nights nights, his face has been turned away from you, sometimes you had been able to see glimpses of his profile, or just his smile - but most mornings, the details had quickly faded from your memory again. The boy of your dreams - and you don’t mean this in a sappy, corny way, but quite literally - has been haunting you in blurred lines and vague shapes for half your life now. But this morning, it’s finally been different, this morning you were able to recall his beautiful big eyes, deep with warmth and mischief. The rest of the face is still blurry, but you have the feeling you’ll soon be able to recall more and more details.

“I’m still glad my soulmate tell was so much easier than yours.”, your best friend says, her hand coming to rest on your shoulder. You smile up at her, tracing the tattoo on the inside of her wrist. You know the same one is gracing the wrist of her soulmate and boyfriend Chanyeol. They were lucky enough to find each other during their first week of college, after they quite literally ran into each other - Hannah spilling her coffee all over Chanyeol’s favorite shirt. You still remember how your best friend had come home that night, eyes shining, cheeks bright, her smile never leaving her face. Till this day, you still don’t fully comprehend how utterly perfect her and Chanyeol are for each other - even though you shouldn’t be surprised, soulmates usually make perfect couples. Of course not everyone always finds their soulmate - some also have “normal” relationships. Some meet their soulmates only very late in life, some very early on. It’s different for everyone - just like the soulmate tells are different for each person. But Hannah’s right, matching tattoos are way easier to figure out than seeing each other in dreams, especially when the dreams fade way too quickly in the morning, or the person you’re supposed to see is just a vague, blurry shape. 

“I hope I’ll be able to remember more of his face from now on. Maybe this means he’s… he’s closer to me now?”, you say, trying not to sound too hopeful. Hannah squeezes your shoulder. “I’m sure it does. Come on, let’s eat now - I made your favorite tonight.”, she answers gently, and you immediately jump up. “Why didn’t you say so?”, you tease her, and she laughs, following you out of your room and into the kitchen. 

As soon as you open your eyes, you reach towards your nightstand to grab the notebook and pencil you placed there last evening. This morning, you’re finally able to remember the exact curve of his smile, so you scribble frantically, trying to fit the bright smile into the drawing you began yesterday evening. The face is still incomplete, half in shadow and too blurry to make out every detail. You don’t know if you’ve managed to capture the exact shape of his chin yet, and his eyebrows - are they maybe a bit fuller? You groan, and fall back into your pillows, blowing some of your hair out of your face. “Why are you always disappearing again?”, you muse silently, and close your eyes, desperately trying to remember the exact shape of his face. What shade of tan is his skin, exactly? And his hair - you’re not sure if it’s black or brown. Maybe it’s even a bit reddish? 

The more you try to remember, the more his face seems to disappear again, the details slipping away from your grasp.

You only remember his deep eyes, and his bright smile.

But one thing you know for sure - he’s ridiculously handsome. 

The rest, it seems, has to wait for another morning. 

Over the next few weeks, you begin to recall more and more details of your soulmate’s face. The exact brown of his eyes, for example. His hair is a faded red, probably dyed. His nose looks extremely boopable, you think. His smile makes your heart race, and one morning, you wake up with his laugh still ringing in your ear. 

Your drawing gets more detailed with every passing day, until one evening, you have finally managed to draw a complete face. 

You were right - he’s handsome, incredibly so. In your drawing, he’s smiling, but by now you’re also able to recall how his face looks when he’s not smiling. You grin, noting that both of you seem to have a serious case of the so-called “resting bitch face”. “Truly meant to be, huh.”, you murmur, adding a few more shadows around his jawline, until you’re pleased with the final result. You take a sip of the tea Hannah has brought you over an hour ago, it’s cold by now, but you still drink it. Just then, there’s a knock on your door, and you make a “Mh?” under your breath, letting the person outside know it’s okay to come in. Chanyeol sticks his head through the doorframe, dark hair falling messily into his brown puppy eyes. He gives you a happy smile which you immediately return. “Hey there! Hannah and I are about to make pancakes, you want some, too?”, he asks, and you chuckle. “Hannah and you, huh? I think you mean only Hannah is going to make pancakes. You’re almost as much of a mess in the kitchen as I am, Yeol.”, you retort, and he ducks his head. “Uh, maybe. I might help with the batter though - just no cracking eggs for me, you know how that turned out last time.”, he admits, and you make a disgusted face when you recall the taste of eggshell in your otherwise yummy pancakes, “Anyway, you want some or not?”, he inquires again, and you nod. “I’ll never say no to Hannah’s pancakes. I’ll be there in a second.”, you answer, and he gives you the thumbs up before closing the door again. You sigh and gaze at your drawing again. “Who and where are you, dream boy?”, you murmur, before stuffing the drawing back into your sketchbook, finally joining Hannah and Chanyeol in the kitchen.

The next few days pass without anything exciting happening, and before you know it, school is starting again. You usually dislike the first day of class, everything is unfamiliar again, and you always get lost on your way to find the right buildings and rooms, but weirdly enough, today is different - everything goes smoothly, and you even have time to get yourself a tea on your way to your first class. You find a good seat not too far in the back, but also not too close to the teacher, and begin to unpack your notebook and pencils. You rarely take notes on your laptop, preferring to do so in a real notebook as you find the scratching of your pen on paper weirdly calming. You also love to doodle when you don’t take notes, and that’s much more fun to do on paper as well.

Over the next few minutes, more and more students begin to file into the classroom, and for some reason, you suddenly feel kind of giddy, nervously bouncing your leg while gnawing on your lower lip. Soon, the teacher gives his introduction, and begins to talk about this semester’s syllabus. About halfway through the class, there’s a small commotion when the door opens again, and a very late student slips inside the classroom. When you turn around to see who’s making all the fuss, you only see the back of his head - his hair is a faded reddish color, definitely dyed. For a second, the shape of the person seems oddly familiar… But then, you just shake your head, a small smile playing on your lips when you think about all the crazy hair colors you’ve had over the past few years, until Hannah basically forced you to give your scalp a rest. “You’ll go bald if you don’t!” Seeing the faded red color now, you kinda miss your own colorful looks. Mhm, maybe you could at least get some bangs soon.

The rest of the class passes rather quickly, and a glance at the watch says you have almost an entire hour until your next lecture begins. You text Hannah, asking how her first class went and if she’s free right now. She answers quickly, saying she’s already on the way to her next lecture but that you guys can grab lunch together. Occupied with answering her, you don’t notice that the person in front of you has come to a sudden halt. You squeal when you run into a broad back, dropping your phone to the floor, the sound of the screen landing on the hard concrete almost deafening in your ears. “Oh fuck.”, you mutter under your breath, praying to whatever God or Goddess is listening that your screen isn’t cracked - you definitely don’t have the money to get it fixed. Thankfully, the case seems to have protected your phone from the worst. You exhale, relieved, before straightening and getting ready to tell off the person responsible for this accident. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why you don’t text and walk at the same time.”, a male voice says, sarcasm lacing his words, and you look up to glare at him. 

The second you lay eyes on him though, your heart just stops for a few seconds, before beginning to race again, hammering against your rib cage.

You silently gape at the boy in front of you, taking in the red dyed hair hanging messily into deep dark eyes. His lips are pulled into a cocky grin, his head tilted to one side, showing off his sharp jawline, arms crossed over his chest, a backpack slung over one shoulder. 

Oh how often have you drawn that face by now. 

You know the exact curve of his lips, plump and rosy and almost a bit too kissable for your liking, and by now, you know way too well how your fingers always itch to brush his too long hair out of eyes that seem to hold all the stars and galaxies in them. 

“You.”, you breathe out, and it seems that he finally recognizes you too, as his eyes get even bigger and the cocky grin slips from his face, replaced by an awe-filled smile. “Oh my God - it’s you! You’ve… you’ve been in all my dreams.”, he says in a rush, just when you open your mouth to say the same. A giddy smile splits open your face, and you nod excitedly. “Just as you’ve been in mine.”, you answer, breathlessly, and like two magnets being pulled towards each other, you both take a step closer. “I’m Sunwoo.”, he introduces himself, sounding a bit breathless himself, before he holds out his hand for you to take. You accept his handshake, feeling electricity shoot through your whole body when your skin makes contact with his for the first time. “I’m Y/N, it’s nice to finally see you - really see you, that is.” When he smiles at you in earnest this time, you swear your heart stops again, before beginning to race twice as fast as before. “Well, I think I already have a favorite class this semester.”, Sunwoo murmurs, unconsciously tugging you closer to him, your hand still securely held in his. “I think so, too.”, you answer, and return his smile while looking at him, drowning in his deep, sparkling eyes. He cups one side of your face with his other hand, brushing some of your hair back behind your ear. “I’ve waited so long for you.”, he whispers, and you feel your throat close up at his words. “Me too.”, you answer, and slide both arms around his waist. He sighs, returning your hug and placing his chin on top of your head. You listen to his quick heartbeat, mirroring your own racing one, noticing how normal and right it already feels to touch him.

You just fit - like two puzzle pieces, finally put together again. 

The fateful day you met your soulmate for the first time would forever be engraved into your mind.

Since then, Sunwoo’s hair had gone through some changes - he had redyed it red for the first few months, until it had faded to a soft brown again, and then he decided to just go back to black. You had asked him once to dye it a bright pink, but he had just given you a funny look, shaking his head before continuing to watch your favorite movie - The Cat in the Hat, your choice for this week’s movie night. A few days later, you yourself had dyed your hair a bright pink, almost giving Hannah a heart attack when you opened the door to her room. 

Over the next few years, there were many amazing first experiences you shared with Sunwoo - your first dinner together (Hannah had been so nice to cook for you guys because apparently, you didn’t only share the resting bitch face, but also the inability to cook anything edible), your first kiss (yes, Sunwoo’s lips felt just as amazing as they looked), the first night spent with each other (you had talked about literally everything and anything until the first rays of sunshine had crept into your bedroom), your first holiday as a couple (a road trip gone horribly wrong, with you guys having to spend the night in the car because one of you (you were pretty sure it was Sunwoo’s fault) had typed in the wrong address into the navigation system), your first big fight (now you don’t even remember what it was about, but you had both sulked for two days until making up, the longest you had ever gone without speaking to each other), your first encounter with each other’s families (teasing Sunwoo about his younger sister being taller than him had quickly become one of your favorite hobbies) and finally, your first apartment together (it was a teeny tiny flat, but you filled it with many beautiful memories).

You knew that many more first experiences were still waiting for you - like adopting some pets together (you were already looking at cute kittens), and maybe a wedding one day (you had to admit, after attending Hannah and Chanyeol’s wedding and crying buckets when they said their vows, you weren’t as opposed to the concept of marriage anymore), and probably also having a family of your own together - one day, in the still far away future. 

You couldn’t wait to share the rest of your life with your other half, your soulmate, the person you called your home - and you knew that Sunwoo felt the exact same way.

for my light, my love, my Summer @sunmoonieverse​ 💞

[masterlist] | [requests] 

[yougivemebutterfliessss]

We gonna ignore the fact that ghostie isn’t my main account but 150 :)

-saarah

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @ghostiewriter 🥳🥳🥳 ur old now congratulations. So you though could stump me with this vague prompt “make up your own” IM SORRY OKAY I thought giving something vague for Christmas prompts would make it EASIER. Anywho I have a secret weapon and her name Annie. Big shout out to @yellowlaboratory for turning my traumatic story of puking in a school bathroom during a track meet into a hilarious fic idea; please enjoy this unedited 🙈crack Drabble akdhsjdhsjdh

“You want me to call your priest?”

Track had always been a JJ and Kie thing. In sixth grade she’d decided they need to keep active during the winter and that indoor track would be the perfect way to do it. Not only was it during the months where there was no surfing, but it was a sport she could actually do with her boys. She just needed to convince them to do it. Pope was an immediate no, too much homework and John B was insistent on trying out for the basketball team, his dad used to play or something. Which left JJ, who for whatever reason picked joining track with her over joining basketball with John B. She always figured it was because he thought she needed him more, seeing as John B could make friends with just about anyone. Or maybe she was overthinking it and JJ just thought that track sounded more fun; either way, she’s glad he did.

They had long bus rides together, traveling to the mainland so they could meet up with other schools, spend the whole ride there laughing and joking and talking about nothing in particular. She snuck extra snacks into her lunch box so that she could share with JJ, forcing him to eat “healthy shit” like apples and granola bars. (she was quite pleased with herself for that one) They would normally fall asleep on the way back, wake up half on top of each other and not talk about it afterward. She would aggressively snap, “No” when people asked if they like each other and JJ would just grin widely like it was the funniest joke in the world.

He was annoyingly good too, at pretty much everything. If the coaches were down a person they could just throw JJ into that event with a little bit of practice and chances are he would at least place. He was mainly a sprinter and a jumper though, same as Kie. A lot of her favorite memories came from the three years they ran track together. In eighth grade however, things got more complicated because suddenly Kie also had to deal with her period.

She wasn’t one to let that hold her back, but long track meets after school definitely made things more difficult, but it was manageable. Until of course, it wasn’t, which long story short, led to Kie being doubled over on the gross floor of another school's bathroom feeling like someone was digging a knife through her lower abdomen and hoping she doesn’t start puking again. She wasn’t sure how long it took for JJ to find her, walking with his hands over his eyes, judging by the sound of him running into a stall door.

“Yo Kie, you in here?”

“Down here,” she groaned from her spot on the floor not wanting to shift from her position to face, any movement at all made her feel nauseous.

His eyes widened as he crouched down beside her, “Wow, shit. You okay?”

“Do I really have to answer that question?” She muttered with an eye roll, but even that felt weak.

“Right sorry. So did you like catch a bug or somethin?” He asked, backing away from her like she might be contagious.

The last thing Kiara felt like doing at the time was explaining the nuisances of period cramps to a thirteen year old boy so she just muttered, “girl stuff,” and the movement was enough to have her heaving into the toilet again.

“Holy shit,” JJ muttered softly, sounded shocked for reasons Kiara was in too much pain to care about.

“Are you pregnant?”

Kiara choked on her puke, managed to turn her head enough to face him.

“What?”

JJ ran a hand through his hair anxiously, not even seeming to have heard her, talking mostly to himself as he mumbled, “I’m not ready to be a dad.”

“We haven’t slept together you idiot.”

JJ’s went wide with realization. “You slept with someone else,” he exclaimed with what almost sounded like betrayal in his voice.

Kiara didn’t have time to respond before the aggravation at his absolute idiocy had her hanging over the toilet boil again. JJ shifted down so he was squatted beside her, held her hair back as he rambled on.

“So who's is it? No- no you don’t have to tell me that, I don’t even care who’s sperm it is I’m here for you Kie. He’ll be like my kid anyway. Or she. Duh.”

Kiara squeezed her eyes shut in disbelief, didn’t have the energy to turn her head to him as she hissed out, “JJ.”

He raised his hands in surrender, “Okay, okay, I get it, too much,” then added hopefully “I'll still be uncle JJ though right?”

“It’s no one's sperm you dipshit!” She cried, momentarily forgetting the pain in her abdomen as she turned to him.

JJ just blinked at her for a few seconds before responding with a dramatic gasp, a small spark in his eyes as he whispered, “Virgin Mary?”

Kiara groaned in disbelief, pulled her arms up to the toilet boil and rested her head on them, too exasusted to care about the unsanitariness of the situation.

“Does this mean I’m gonna be Jesus’ uncle?”

“JJ if you don’t shut the fuck up right now the next time I puke it’s gonna be on you.”

He backed up immediately, “okay okay point taken. I mean come on that one was kinda funny though.”

She didn’t look up, but she could easily picture the smirk on his face.

“Can you please do something helpful and go call my dad? I left my phone in my bag.”

JJ perked up at that, jumping to his feet. “Right, I’ll be right back, I’ll let the coaches know you’re puking too. Oh and do you want a water? Gatorade? Maybe Pepsi?”

“Water’s good.”

He was sprinting away before she could say thank you. Kie curled up on the floor, giving about zero shits about how dirty it was, anything to make her stomach hurt a little bit less.

JJ returned a few minutes later with water and her phone in hand. Announced, “Kie I can’t find your dad’s contact,” as he handed her the water.

She groaned inwardly for thinking she was funny when she made her dad’s name in her phone.

“Oh uh call Father Mike.”

JJ looked up at that. “You want me to call your priest?”

“No that’s my dad,” she responded with a sigh.

“Your dad’s a priest?”

She sat up and opened her mouth to respond but the movement sent another wave of nausea over her and she found herself back above the toilet boil.

“Should I start confessing my sins before or after you finish puking?”

Kiara fixes him with a glare as she pulls away. “It’s a joke. He put his dad in his phone as Father Joe so I put him in as Father Mike. It’s like imagine there was a comma, like ‘Father, Mike’.”

JJ furrowed his eyebrows as he considered that beforing saying. “You really should add the comma. It’s very misleading.”

“Can you just call him?” She asked, her voice almost pleading at this point.

JJ’s joking tone shifted at that, “right. Yeah of course.”

After that she felt well enough to let JJ help her back to their teams set up in the track building, where she could lie down on blankets instead of a cold floor. JJ still had races and events to do, but he ran back to check on her after every one and each time she would assure him that she was fine and that she didn't need a babysitter, but secretly appreciated how concerned he was. And in hindsight, the Jesus jokes were kinda funny, at least Pope and John B thought they were.

[apparentlynotreallyfinnish]

Experiments - Part 10

If you need to refresh your memory:

Experiments on Ao3

---

The closer Rhett got to the house, the more his mood sank. 

Link was probably furious. Who wouldn’t be, after what Rhett had done? Link had every right to be pissed. Rhett could take that. He deserved that and he knew he could handle an angry Link. 

What worried Rhett more was the possibility that Link was hurting. What if he’d been distraught after Rhett left? What if he’d cried himself to sleep? Yelling Rhett could take, but the thought of tears made him feel squirmy and anxious.

The traffic was light since it was only six-thirty on a Sunday morning, so Rhett made good time and parked next to Link’s car right as the sun peeked over the horizon. He killed the engine and sat in the silence of the car for a moment to gather himself.

You love him.

You can do this.

Just tell him.

What’s the worst that can happen? 

Rhett chose to ignore the last thought and got out of the car. 

He found Link curled up in bed, wrapped in the new blanket, hair a salt-and-pepper halo fanning on the pillow around his head as he slept with his mouth slightly open. Rhett stood next to the bed and stared, his chest filling with warmth and love. Jessie was right. He was an idiot. How could he not have realized that he loved Link? It was so obvious. Just being in the same room with him made Rhett feel calm and happy, made him feel like he was exactly where he was supposed to be. 

Link was achingly beautiful when he slept. Rhett thought back on all the times he’d taken photos of Link asleep on planes and beaches and blushed at the memory. He’d known even then—at least subconsciously. It had all been masked as silly fun, but there was a reason why he loved those photos so much and kept going back to them months after they were taken.

Rhett gingerly sat on the edge of the bed and brushed a curl out of Link’s eyes. He hadn’t meant to wake him up, not really. But it was impossible not to be drawn to him. The need to touch Link was a constant undercurrent in Rhett that he only now could put a name to.

Link scrunched his nose and turned, pressing his face against the pillow with a muffled sigh. Rhett’s heart leaped and he stilled, hoping that Link would fall back asleep. But he groaned and turned again, blinking his eyes open. His gaze focused on Rhett and Rhett braced for whatever was coming. 

“Hey,” Link mumbled, yawning. “You came back.”

Rhett’s apologies died in his throat. Link didn’t sound angry or sad. A little tired maybe, but not in any way emotional. 

This was something Rhett hadn’t prepared for. 

Link stretched his arms above his head and moaned as his joints snapped and creaked away the rust of sleep. Then his eyes found Rhett’s again and he smiled a crooked smile.

“Did ya come for round two, big guy?”

“Um,” was all Rhett could muster before Link grabbed his collar and pulled him into a slow, sleepy kiss. Rhett’s body moved while his mind stood still. He crawled deeper into the bed and Link lifted the blanket, pulling Rhett under it. In no time, Link’s naked body was wrapped around Rhett and he was taking small nibbles out of Rhett’s bottom lip between kisses. 

Link took Rhett’s hand into his own and slipped it between them, encouraging Rhett to palm his awakened cock. When Rhett’s fingers wrapped around his shaft, he sighed into Rhett’s mouth and started slowly rocking into his loose fist.

“Mm,” Link moaned low and breathless. “Want some breakfast? Something salty and filling?”

Rhett’s head was already on its way under the blanket, dizzy and his mouth watering at the thought of getting a taste, when his mind finally caught up. He froze and let go of Link, making him moan in disappointment. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Rhett said, pulling back, catching Link’s eyes. “Time out.”

“Why?” Link whined and bridged the small gap between them, rubbing himself against Rhett. 

“Don’t you want me?” Link continued with a fake pout as his hand found its way between Rhett’s legs and squeezed. Amusement flashed in Link’s eyes and he let out a low chuckle. “Seems like at least a part of you does…”

“Link, stop. We gotta talk,” Rhett croaked, trying to pat away Link’s hands. But Link was persistent and Rhett’s cock was a traitor to their cause, throbbing eagerly into Link’s touch.

“Talking can wait. I found something much more urgent,” Link muttered against Rhett’s lips, licking his way back into Rhett’s mouth, effectively shutting down his mind. Rhett sank into the kiss, not caring about the faint taste of sleep on Link’s tongue. He felt dizzy and heated, fully clothed under the covers and pressed up against a man that was making him feel all kinds of hot.

“Mmh, have I told you how much I love the way you get wet for me?” Link groaned into the shell of Rhett’s ear as his fingers slipped inside Rhett’s pants and brushed against his cockhead, already dripping. 

Love. That was the word that snapped Rhett out of his lusty haze. 

“Oh God, stop that, I can’t think!”

Link jerked back, surprised by Rhett’s raised voice. Rhett breathed ragged and fast, trying to calm his racing heart and his traitorous cock. Link’s face fell and his sultry smirk turned into a stormy scowl. 

“Fine. Be like that then,” he muttered, threw away the covers and slid out of bed. 

“Link, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap like that! I just needed… You make me— You fuck up my head!”

“Ha!” Link scoffed, pulling on his pants with angry yanks. “I fuck up your head?! That’s rich, dude. You’re the one that came inside me last night and was out the door while your come was still dripping out of my ass!”

Rhett was choking on the sob that had risen into his throat.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered, getting up. He tried to walk up to Link, hands reaching for him, but Link dodged and snatched his shirt from the floor.

“Whatever, man. I mean, I was confused as fuck and honestly, kinda pissed, but when I saw you just now I thought we could just forget it. Water under the bridge and all that. But no! You want to make it a whole thing?!”

Link’s voice was trembling with anger and his eyes were squinted and dark. Rhett had thought he could handle Link angry—apparently, he’d never seen Link when he was actually mad. 

“Link, please. Can we sit down and talk? I need to tell y—”

“Fuck off, Rhett. I don’t need your fake apologies. I’m going home,” Link spat and stomped into the hallway.

“Link, wait! I’m in love with you!” 

Silence.

Rhett was panting, shaking from the panic gripping his chest and honestly, a little surprised about how easily the words had fallen from his lips. He sank back onto the bed, feeling drained and strangely light at the same time. 

At least now he knows.

Link reappeared into the doorway. He no longer looked angry. He looked—rueful? Slowly, he walked back into the room and sat on the edge of the bed, about a foot away from Rhett. 

Rhett didn’t dare to look at him. He already knew. He’d known the second he’d seen Link’s face in the doorway.

He doesn’t love me. Not like that. Not like I do.

Link sighed. The sound was loud in the quiet room and to Rhett, it felt like it drained the air out of it. Suddenly, he had trouble breathing. His chest felt tight and hollow.

“Rhett,” Link started.

“Please, I—” Rhett interrupted him. “We don’t have to do this. I came here to— I came to tell you. Now I’ve done that and— It’s obvious that you don’t…” Rhett had to pause to swallow around what felt like gravel ripping at his throat. “That’s fine. I should’ve known really. You did say that, at the beginning. If it hasn’t happened in the last 36 years, it’s not gonna happen now.”

Link reached for Rhett’s hand. Rhett let him take it but made no attempt at intertwining their fingers. Link just pressed his limp hand between his warm palms and sighed again.

“I’m so sorry, Rhett. I didn’t mean for this to get so—” 

There was heartbreak. And then there was this. There was a world newly built crumbling inside Rhett. He felt like he was being ripped apart, turned inside out and painstakingly stitched back together again. He came out at the other end as something else—an aberration of himself.  

He tried to turn his mouth into a smile, but his lips just twitched in defiance. No more smiling. No more warmth. No more the possibility of more.

“No worries. Totally my fault,” Rhett murmured, pulling his hand away, already missing Link’s touch. “You know me. Was always girl-crazy. Obviously, I had to go crazy for the first boy that I fell for, too. I’ll get over it.”

Link sniffled.

Rhett almost laughed. This had been the thing he had dreaded when he drove in. Link crying. It came to be, but not at all in the way that Rhett had expected. Was that irony? Rhett was always a bit confused about what that was.

“I don’t love you,” Link whispered, voice wet and weary. Rhett’s insides turned to ice. Why did he need to say it?

“I know,” Rhett said, fighting his own tears.

“I don’t love you,” Link repeated, voice more panicked.

“Stop. I get it.” 

Does he want me to suffer? Because I left him last night? If so, this is just cruel…

“I don’t love you,” Link said again, voice trembling. He’d turned to look at Rhett, but Rhett couldn’t meet his eyes. Not now, not when Link kept repeating the words that cut Rhett’s heart to smaller and smaller pieces every time Link said them out loud.

“Link, stop,” Rhett sobbed, wiping his nose on his sleeve and turning his head away from Link.

“I—don’t—love—you.” Every word was like a gut punch and Rhett almost expected blood to trickle from the corner of his mouth. But only tears fell, the pain that was tearing him apart was only real in his mind.   

“Ha, ha,” Rhett feigned a laugh, voice hollow. “Okay, I got it. You got your punches in. I’m already down. Can you stop kicking me?” His voice was barely a whisper.

Link was moving next to him. Rhett knew because the mattress shifted. Suddenly, Link was in front of him, on his knees on the floor. He grabbed Rhett’s face and turned it towards himself.

“I don’t love you…” he said again. Rhett met his panicked eyes right as the next word fell from his lips like a plea. “Right?”

Rhett’s heart skipped a beat.

“Wh—what?” he sputtered, eyes widening. Link was still staring at him with glossy eyes and raised brows like he was begging for Rhett to let him out of his misery.

“I don’t— I can’t. It’s not possib— Rhett, please tell me I’m not in love with you!” Link rasped, fingers digging into the sides of Rhett’s head.

Rhett swallowed down a sob and took Link’s face into his own hands. His thumb swiped away an errant tear from his cheek.

“I can’t tell you that. Only you know that,” he whispered, the tiniest morsel of hope sparking inside him. 

“No,” Link groaned and let go of Rhett’s face. He slumped into Rhett’s lap, arms around his waist, head pressed onto Rhett’s stomach. He wept quietly against Rhett’s shirt and kept repeating the word. 

“No—no—no—no—no—no—no.” With every iteration it seemed to mean less, it seemed to be more a lifeline than a word with any kind of meaning. Rhett ran his fingers through Link’s hair and gently scratched his scalp.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, baby. You’re okay. It’s fine. Everything is fine,” he murmured as Link trembled in his arms.

“We have families. Wives. I love Christy,” Link sobbed.

“I know, bo. Of course, you do. I love Jess, too,” Rhett said, voice soothingly low. 

“I can’t be in love with you. How—” A hiccup. “How can we go on? I’m not gonna— We can’t get a div— I don’t want you to—”

“Oh, no! Oh, no, no, no. Link, look at me,” Rhett said, finally figuring out the reason for Link’s anguish. Link slowly pulled away from Rhett’s embrace and looked up at him, eyes red and eyelashes stuck together. 

“We can all be happy. Everyone.”

“What?” Link’s voice was muffled by the arm he was wiping his snot-covered face with.

“Apparently, the girls have known—for a while.”

Link stared at him, eyes wide with fear.

“Why would Christy suggest that we…” Link motioned towards the bed before continuing. “If she knew that?” 

That hadn’t actually occurred to Rhett before. But now that Link said it, it all made sense.

Rhett burst into laughter. He wiped his eyes and ducked down to pull Link up into his lap and into a teary kiss.

“They did this. Goddamn, those sneaky little... They planned this! Nudged us together. Our wives played freaking Cupids for us. God, I don’t think I’ve ever loved Christy more than right now.”

“Hey!” Link gasped. Rhett laughed and kissed him again.

“Not like that, you dumbass.”

“Hmph.” Link frowned but leaned back for more kisses. And then some more. And more. And more. And soon, they were a tangle of limbs reclining onto the bed, and clothes were getting pulled off and thrown onto the floor.

“They want this?” Link breathed into Rhett’s neck. 

“Uh-huh,” Rhett hummed, kissing his way down Link’s bare chest.

“And you want this? Want me?” Link asked, fingers tangling into Rhett’s hair.

“Yeah,” Rhett replied and sucked a purple bloom onto the skin stretched over Link’s hip bone.

“And we’re all going to be happy. Together?” Link choked out as Rhett pulled down his boxers, revealing Link’s throbbing erection.

“Yes,” Rhett said emphatically, heart filling with joy as his mouth filled with Link’s cock. 

“I love you. I think I’ve always loved you,” Link gasped between moans, squirming under Rhett’s heated—and healing—touch.

“I love you, too. Now shut up and let me make up for last night.”

[yuniv-bluetea]

The Dream Journal of Pope

Pope Meyward wasn't the kind of person who would write a journal. Or have weird-ass dreams. He was more of a 'Dreaming of failing a test...Falling for no freaking reason from the sky' kinda guy. However, since the beginning of the summer his dreams have turned into...He couldn't even describe what his dreams are trying to tell him. ...Or why in each one of them fucking JJ Maybank suddenly appears !

Feeling safe in his room from lurking eyes and curious friends, Pope took out his dream journal hidden behind some old books and turned to the first page.

Dear Lord...He would die of shame if anybody would ever get their hands on the journal.

*24th June

It's Midsummer and the Kooks are partying like crazy while my pops and I are in charge of the catering. Everything seems normal. Sarah and John B are somewhere swaying to the music, but it's not them I keep searching in the crowd. "Trying to keep an eye on me, don't you ?",suprised I turn around and feel my cheeks getting warmer. "W-What? No...that would be ridiculous", but Kie just laughs and takes another sip. Uneasy I scratch my arm and look back at her as she watches Sarah trying to teach John B how to properly dance. I'm clearly staring at her...Like a total creep..But she doesn't seem to notice...Just like always. Topic. I need a topic. “Does it taste good ? I-I mean your drink ?” Smalltalk was may not my strength. Shifting her gaze back to me and then to her cup, she just shrugs her shoulders. " Umm...Fine, I guess... But seriously...Why can't they use at least organic straws ? These Kooks are clearly the reason our earth is dying every day a bit faste-", suddenly I feel a grip on my right shoulder.

Oceanic Blue Eyes.

" Oh my..DUDE... You won't believe how much- ! Can you see the hot chick there with the long legs -”, JJ squeezes my shoulder a little harder as he vaguely points at some random girl. ”..Yeah ?”, looking back at him a wide smile spreads on his lips as he starts to waggle dollars under my nose. ”That’s the cash she gave me for her cocktail !! .. Just for one lousy drink ! I hit the freaking highscore !! ", excited he kisses his new money and I couldn’t hold back a laugh. “ It’s actually not that mu-” In a blink of an eye JJ suddenly pulls me into a hug and I freeze. We actually never hug. Or at least not like that.

"Stupid Kooks, am I right ?", he whispers in my ear, his hot breath tingling my ear and I- Then I woke up feeling a bit...unwell???*

Quietly the curled hair boy turns to the next page.

*26th June

Outer Banks is being attacked by aliens. “Hoooly shit !! ...We have to do something before they destroy the island !”, feeling like there is not enough air to breath I quickly turn around to face my dad. But he just looks calm at me. Not even flinching a little bit. “My son it’s time you put an end to this”, his voice sounded weirdly deep “It’s your destiny to free our island from these hideous creatures !” “Pops..Are you okay ?” “ And there is only one way to defeat these monsters... You must defeat them in a....BOWLING MATCH !!”, lightnings are striking behind him while he looks with wide spread arms into the sky. I back away from him as he continues to scream. “OH....” “..Oh ?” “He is here...”, my father turns around and out of our house comes.. What a suprise.......JJ. Just like my pops he seemed way too calm given the fact our island was under attack. Did they became smoke buddies ?! Happily my pops claps his hands and turns back to me. “Your partner finally appeared. Together you must kick their booties and bring glory over our kingdom!” .....Did they ?! "Yeahh..Let's kick their booties ~", JJ responds and throws - certain of victory - a fist in the air. Then he walks up to me and holds out his hand to me. “Shall we go then..Partner ?” Smirking at me I just took his hand and mutter a “..whatever” at him avoiding his gaze. In the next moment we are all of a sudden on the battlefield. Slimy green creatures that are looking like boogers...and Rafe/Topper..are our opponents. We are surrounded by many viewers..some human and galactical ones...who are cursing at us to win this game. JJ’s dad stands at the front row. “You piece of shi-”,” Love you tooo”, waving at his dad JJ’s gaze meets mine. “Isn’t he the cutest ?” A horrific roar cuts through the air as the first alien smashes his bowling ball and hits four bowling pins. ..Wait a second. “JJ..”, I whisper leaning over to him “  Yeah, my man ?” “Is it just me or..”, already feeling stupid for what I would say next, I continue “..are the balls really watermelons and the pins..Flamingos ?” “Hell yeah~” We were definitly losing this shitty game. And the fact that I was the next to throw only confirmed my theory. With sweaty palms I just pushed the watermelon away from me and although I tossed the ball like a weasel and way too far to the right... All flamingos fell screaming to the ground. Suprised I stare at my hands when I feel something wet on my forehead. “I knew you’ve got it !” Did JJ..just kissed my forehead ?? But there is no time to look at him as the crowd cheers turns into booing and something hits my head. A freaking watermelon ! I wake up feeling...Weird ?*

"...Whatever.” Pope closed the journal and hid it again. He had some unusual dreams. So what ? Everybody dreams about stuff. This doesn’t mean anything. And even if it would mean something... Pope would not know what.

[neerasrealm]

TIM AND CODY TIM AND CODY TIM AND CODY 🥺🥺🥺

DAD TIM TIME DAD TIM TIME. these two are so good istg

enjoy

When Tim was awoken by someone knocking on his door his first thought was ‘’You’re kidding me.’’. He hadn’t gotten a decent sleep in almost a week, and most days found himself running off of only four or five hours. Not even melatonin was helping. He groaned into his pillow and rolled over. 

‘’Mrrroooowwww…’’ 

Tim sighed and looked down. Laying by his arm was a skinny grey cat that gave him an irritated look. Probably because Tim had woken it. He rolled his eyes. ‘’Well excuse me, Kralie.’’ he muttered. He sat up, being sure not to disturb his other cat, Brian, who was curled up near his feet, sleeping peacefully. He carefully climbed off his bed and sighed, running a hand through his messy black hair. It had to be late, it was pitch black in the room. The only light came from the tank where his pet frog lived. He could barely just spot the outline of his third cat Jay sitting and staring at a wall for no apparent reason. He did that a lot. Tim had given up trying to figure out why. He strode across the room and over to his door. He pulled it open and looked up.

‘’Mmmh?’’ he grunted as he blinked at the person in front of his door. In the darkness he could barely recognise the skinny frame and fluffy hair of Cody. The slightly taller boy fiddled with his hands nervously.

‘’Sorry for waking you.’’ he whispered. Tim shook his head.

‘’I wasn’t sleeping.’’ he lied. ‘’What’s wrong, kid?’’

‘’I…’’ Cody shrugged. ‘’I couldn’t sleep. And I-I kept thinking about stuff…’’ he murmured. He glanced up from the floor, looking at Tim anxiously. 

‘’You need a distraction?’’ the older man asked. Cody gave a slight nod. Tim sighed gently. ‘’Alright. Lemme get dressed then.’’ he murmured. He heard Cody mumble out a feeble ‘thanks’ as he closed the door. Tim put on some comfy sweatpants and an old warm fleece. He walked back to the door and opened it. Cody perked up a bit, looking at him. Tim stepped out of the room and put his hands in his pockets. ‘’C’mon kid. I feel like going out.’’

Cody chuckled a bit. ‘’I was hoping you’d say that…’’ he murmured as he followed Tim upstairs. ‘’I looked out my window earlier. It’s a really nice night.’’ 

‘’Yeah?’’ Tim looked over his shoulder at Cody, smiling a bit. ‘’Good.’’ 

The two of them crept through the living room, careful not to alert Slender upstairs. They unlocked the front door and stepped out into the night. They walked over to Tim’s car. It was an old, busted up thing he’d been driving since 2005, and he refused to replace it. That car had been through hell and back right along with Tim, and every time it broke down Tim would just fix it himself. Usually with help from Cody and anybody else that thought they could lend a hand. Tim climbed into the driver’s seat and watched Cody climb into the seat next to him. The car smelled musty and there were some miscellaneous stains on the seats and dashboard. Tim turned the ignition on and the dashcam hanging from the mirror came to life. He drummed his hands on the steering wheel and looked at Cody.

‘’So, where to?’’ he asked. Cody shrugged. ‘’You hungry?’’

Cody smiled a bit and nodded. ‘’Yeah, actually.’’

‘’What’re we eating?’’ Tim asked as he drove the car towards and along the dirt path that’d lead out of the forest. 

‘’Hm…’’ Cody frowned, running his tongue over his teeth as he thought. ‘’Baskin robbins sounds really good...but taco bell does too-’’

‘’Dinner and dessert.’’ Tim replied. He glanced at Cody and smiled. Cody grinned. He was being spoiled tonight. 

------

‘’So Brian looks the guy dead in the eyes and says ‘that’s a serious problem. Go to a doctor or you’ll die in like three days’.’’

‘’PFFFFT- SO WHAT HAPPENED TO THE GUY???’’

‘’Well- I dunno, I never saw him again.’’ Tim grinned to himself as he balled up the wrapper from his taco. ‘’Maybe he did die, I dunno.’’ he shrugged.

‘’You think Brian killed him?’’

‘’Probably.’’ Tim nodded and laughed quietly. ‘’I swear, there was nothing behind Brian’s eyes. It wouldn’t surprise me if he was a wanted murderer or some shit.’’

Cody tilted his head. ‘’Is that why you guys were friends?’’

Tim snorted. ‘’Yeah. Except I can hide the fact that I’m secretly a feral guy who runs around the woods in a mask. With Brian you kinda knew.’’ Cody snickered. He loved hearing Tim’s stories. He always found a way to make it funny, and he’d had more than his fair share of bizarre experiences. ‘’Here, kid, gimme your trash. I’ll throw it out for ya.’’

Cody passed over the empty taco bell bag and watched Tim stuff his own trash into it. He reached over and unlocked the door, stepping out. ‘’C’mon, we’ll walk up to get the ice cream.’’

Cody climbed out of the car and followed Tim across the parking lot. He tilted his head. ‘’You sure you wanna walk through the cold?’’ he asked, mostly just to start conversation.

‘’Yeah? Gotta burn it off somehow,’’ Tim replied as he put the empty bag in the bin beside the entrance to the taco bell. ‘’Some of us have slow metabolisms, twig boy.’’ he shot Cody a grin. They both knew that wasn’t the real reason. Tim didn’t desperately need to lose weight, he just wanted to spend more time with Cody. He wanted to savor the night together, even if it was chilly.

Conversation came easy to them. Cody was impulsive, and liked to say whatever first came to mind. Tim always had a sarcastic comment to respond with. Cody liked that about Tim. He never judged. He always took Cody's ideas, as far-fetched as they were, seriously. He was supportive. 

"Hey kid," Tim suddenly spoke up. Cody looked at him. "...going out with you like this- it means a lot." He smiled at him. Cody softened.

"...me too." He murmured. He wasn't good with emotions. At all. "Uh- like- you're always...nice to me and I- appreciate that." He fiddled with his hands. "...yeah."

Tim laughed gently. "I appreciate you too kid." He murmured. "Honestly. You're great." He paused for a moment, debating what to say next, but Cody cut him off.

"You're like a dad to me." He blurted. Tim blinked in surprise. Cody slapped his hands over his mouth, staring at him with wide eyes. 

It was silent for a moment. Then Tim smiled. Then grinned, then began laughing quietly. His laughs became louder and Cody glanced away in embarrassment. 

"Pffft-! Kid-!"

"Shut up!" Cody yelped back. Tim quieted his laughs and smiled. 

"I'm not laughing at you, Cody," He murmured. Cody muttered something to himself. "...why do you think I call you 'kid' so often?" He asked gently. Cody looked up. Tim shrugged a bit. "Never saw myself as- y'know- a dad, but fuck if I don't care about you like one."

Cody stared at him. Then a bright grin curled up his face. Before Tim could do anything, Cody tackled him into a tight hug. The two stumbled back and Tim grunted from the impact. He'd had worse of course, and he wasn't going to push Cody off. Not at a time like this. He laughed gently and curled his arms around Cody, squeezing the skinny boy tight. 

"T-Ti-" Cody grunted. "Dad-" 

"Hm?"

"You're...sq-squeezing the air...outta me…"

Tim suddenly released him and looked up in surprise. He smiled a bit. "Sorry kid." He murmured. Cody grunted.

"It's fine." He mumbled. "I think my ribs are still intact. We're good."

[hobiwonder]

~honest fuckboy~ | (m)

pairing: jk x reader

words: 3.1k

warnings: smut. 

a/n: hjrdbfuierbuibfn i accidentally deleted the post hhhhhhh im so sorry. here it is again. this is based on an ask i got about fuckboy jk.

~

~

~

“Okay so… I need to tell you something.” Your feet are tapping an impatient melody on the carpeted floor. Though he definitely can’t hear anything as the carpet muffles the noises that would probably would make him more nervous. Completely and utterly different from the Jungkook outside who’d been boasting about his ‘pussy destroyer’ status.

“Spit it out Jungkook. I’m literally not down for any more of your shitty pranks. I just need a good fuck and as the resident campus slut-”

“um, rude.” You continue anyway.

“-you are my safest bet. So, spill.” He seems even more nervous now for some reason. Sitting on the bed, legs splayed and arms resting back on the plush sheets. And they looked clean too. You didn’t think that was possible for a frat boy.

“Uh…. O-okay.” Your eyebrows are raised again as he looks around, seeming to be mulling his response in his head. Okay this was ridiculous, you were on a time crunch and your downstairs was getting drier by then second. Sighing, you just climb back on the bed, straddling his deliciously muscly thighs and mouth attaching back to his neck that you wanted to cover in hickeys. But you weren’t together and you didn’t want to put marks where they didn’t belong. Even if you really, really wanted to.

But of course he had to fucking ruin it.

“Wait wait!” The groan is unstoppable and this wasn’t the context you’d thought you’d be making these noises in.

“I swear to god Jungkook. Can’t this wait?” There is visible sweat brewing up on his temples and his lips are flushed from your earlier kisses.

“Okay here it goes,” He’s taking a deep breath in, closing his eyes once for a quick second before meeting yours, “I’ve only slept with one girl before.”

You stare at him. A solid minute passes and you haven’t moved an inch until your limbs are waking up again and a giggle is bubbling in your throat as you lean in again.

“Very funny. Now shut up before I kill you and then die of deprivation.”

“Y/n. I-I’m not kidding.” Pulling back, you can now see that all this fidgeting and twiddling with his thumbs really wasn’t an act.

What the hell.

Instantly, you’ve sprung back from his lap and your hands are gone in for the kill at your scalp. Frustration lacing every movement. This was just supposed to be you simply getting laid. Of course this would happen to you.

“What the fuck Jungkook?! Don’t say shit like that when I’m literally about to rip my clothes off.” Unless… “Wait. Is this just so you don’t have to sleep with me?”

Your voice is incredulous and accusing. Sure, you weren’t his hottest conquest or were really considered his type really. But Jeon Jungkook prided himself on never saying no to girls. He loved every female attention and happily hooked up with a variety even if he didn’t actually hang out with them. That’s why it had been so easy to pick him up at the party tonight. You’d had a nightmare of a date and your ego and pride had been bruised enough for one night for him to do you dirty like this too. You’re not sure if you’ll be okay if you got rejected twice in a night. Turns out Jaemin really didn’t like you like that. He just wanted to get laid. Much like what you wanted right now actually. But at least you were honest about it. He lead you on and you wanted to scratch his pretty face! You wore your best lingerie for tonight and that bastard flaked on you after five minutes when his regular booty call showed up.

Stupid pretty boys. At least Jungkook was an honest fuck boy. Or so you had thought. You really couldn’t handle being rejected by the all pleasing fuck boy. And your junior at that.

“No!” His eyes are widely blown and you almost believe him. He’s reaching forward to grab at your retrieving form but you’re having none of it. “Not at all. Y/n. please sit down.”

“No way. I’ve had enough of you assholes playing games with me.”

“What? Who are you talking about?” His eyebrows are furrowed in confusion but you don’t really care enough to tell him about your night for now.

“Don’t worry about it. But whatever I’m going.” You’ve only just turned around when Jungkook is pulling you back roughly so you’re falling back on his lap.

“Don’t go okay? It’s not because I don’t want to sleep with you. Don’t be dumb.” His once over at your tight little black dress doesn’t faze you. Okay maybe a little. Who wouldn’t feel flustered at Jeon Jungkook checking them out?

Sighing, you give him the benefit of the doubt, “Then what? Because I refuse to believe that you’ve only had sex once. Not when you’re literally bragging about screwing someone’s brains out every fucking party.”

“I do have a reputation to keep up you know?” He’s scoffing at you like you’re the one who’s being a little nuts at the moment.

“A reputation that you falsely cultivated, you smelly sock!” Yeah you were a little drunk too.

“Seriously? A smelly sock?” His smile is kinda cute, you think to yourself. “But yeah. I guess I really underestimated the ‘one lie leads to a thousand’ saying.”

Sighing, he just turns you back around in his lap and you can’t help it when you gaze slips further down south for a few seconds but Jungkook’s tsking noises have you looking back up, cheeks heavily flushed.

“You’re really horny aren’t you?” His chuckle is so carefree you’d be thinking it’s you who just confessed to being inexperienced in bed.

“Shut up kid. Thanks to you I might stay this way with no relief!” the pout is inevitable and unarguably a little childish but you could definitely hide away from all the judgement under the guise of being intoxicated.

“Y-You don’t… have to?” He sounds unsure and a little questioning. When you don’t say anything, he continues.

“I know I said I haven’t actually had sex more than that one time but I’d love to have sex with you.” He says it all so casually like he didn’t almost shit his pants confessing that very bit to you.

“Gee, thanks.” You pinch his slightly cherub face to which he yelps dramatically. “If anything, you owe me that mind blowing orgasm you brat.”

“Well then,” his smug little face is turning up in a smirk as he leans back again, spreading his body as it relaxes in the sheets before his face is tilting upwards, eyes taking a whole swipe at the way your dress has ridden up on your thighs. “Get to work babe.”

The nerve of this boy.

You’re about ready to give him a piece of your mind but instead, you go for something much more impactful. The way his eyes almost bulge out of his head is sweet, sweet revenge when you squeeze his length on top of his snug jeans. The shock is thankfully under control when you’d initially felt how hot and heavy his erection sat under the denim.

“You really need to learn when you’re out skilled ‘babe.’” The words are whispered close to his ear as you press a hot kiss beneath the lobe. He was a picture to be put up on the walls as he tried to keep his breathing even, eyes cast directly down to where your hand had now slipped inside his jeans. The rattling of the belt buckle with every movement from your hand was incredibly arousing. Not that you needed to be anymore horny at this stage.

“Wow, um okay… I should’ve -oh fuck – let you hit on me before.” His erection sits thick and hot in your hand as you scoff at him. Yeah, like you would.

“Please. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Jaemin flaking on me.” The last sentence is muttered under your breath but somehow his ears perked up enough to comprehend the name. Even when he’s receiving a hand job he does not shut up, does he?

“J-Jaemin? Really? You’re way out of his l-league. Oh god, y/n.” His moan hits you somewhere deep. Deeper than just your core with the way he’s saying your name and you can’t stop yourself when from slipping down to your knees- as if in a trance when you continue to glide your slippery hand over his girthy length.

“Say that again when my hand isn’t on your dick.” He doesn’t have a chance to open his smart mouth again because yours is on him. His hot skin on your tongue has an involuntary moan bubbling in your throat and reverberating against his hardened cock. The salty, tangy taste of him is addicting and you’re sliding your mouth down him and his reactions are only spurring you on further.

“God, you’re so hot. Look so h-hot with my cock in y-your mouth. Fuck, yes.” He’s growling, moaning and groaning as he watches you lap at his cock again and again. Saliva is starting to pool around your mouth and dripping down your chin as you suck the tip of him relentlessly. His dirty mouth is making you want to slip your hand inside your own underwear and get some relief.

You moan when his hand slips in to your hair at the nape of your neck, guiding your head around him as he gets close.  His mouth seems to have lost its filter and so have his hips as they buck in to your mouth.

“I’m so close. S-So close, baby. Take my cock,” his growl only makes you moan louder around him, sucking him off with more vigour.

Lucky for him, you know exactly how to push him over the edge. Taking one of your hands that had been working on the base of his dick, slickened by a mixture of your saliva and his precum, you tug on his tightened balls and instantly – he’s bucking his hips in to your face screaming out his release.

Warmth fills your mouth as you drink down his cum. His hands guiding your head every which way to milk out every second of his release. Jungkook is panting heavily and his whole body is covered with sweat as he watches your mouth overflow with his cum. Still, you don’t stop gently lapping at him, swallowing every drop and he seems almost about ready to cry.

“Y/n,” he’s panting even more now, “stop or I’ll cum again. Fuck you’re so hot that was amazing.”

Pulling you up back on to his lap, he doesn’t wait for you to wipe your mouth before placing his own, on top in a sloppy kiss. He’s licking around your mouth and you can’t help but moan at the feel of him. In a haste, he’s pulling off his shirt and your eyes almost pop out of your head despite knowing to some degree about what you would see. You knew he was pretty built from the various photos posted on the university social media since you never went to the games. The muscles that bulged out from his football jersey were quite good looking in itself but seeing them up close – you could maybe understand why the girls went crazy for him despite his lack of sexual experience.

While you were busy drooling, Jungkook has already caught you eyeing him shamelessly with the way he was smirking and biting his lip. “Just going to look or do-”

“Shut the hell up.” Your scoff only makes him giggle like a teenage boy making a ‘that’s what she said’ joke.

“You want to kiss me. You want to hug me.” Is he serious?

You pull back slightly from his mouth that’s singing out the ridiculous song from Miss Congeniality.

“Are you seriously quoting Sandra bullock right now?” He scoffs right back at you while pulling up your short little dress as his glassy eyes continue to eat you up.

“Of course. She’s awesome and don’t change the subject. Fuck…” Thank god he’s stopped with the movie talk – although you agree wholeheartedly about Sandra – and the way he’s looking down at your snug silk black lingerie, hugging every curve and accentuating the right parts – the confidence boost is much appreciated.

“Okay so, how much do I need to guide you through?” Your eyebrows are furrowing when his expression stays vacant like he has nothing to say, worrying you profoundly. Did he know anything? Oh god. You were not ready for this arrangement. “Do you know… where the clit is?”

Jungkook is finally moving his facial muscles but only to roll his eyes at you and scoff before he’s flipping you over so you were the one underneath him. “I’m inexperienced y/n, not an idiot.”

“Debatable.” The murmur doesn’t go unnoticed when he’s sliding downwards like he’s about to sit at your feet or something.

“What was that?”

“I said that’s deba- Oh shit!” Oh shit indeed. Any braincells you had left to comprehend speech were now focused on making you feel every lash of Jungkook’s surprisingly skilful tongue that was lashing at your sodden black panties – outlining every fold through them with the hot, wet pad of his tongue. Doesn’t help when he’s chuckling while his face is buried in your pussy making your skin absorb all the vibrations from his dirty mouth.

His hands pull one of your thighs over his shoulder so he could tilt his head further to reach every nook and cranny that will bring tears to your eyes. He licks up a stripe to your aching clit with the flat of his tongue before gently sucking it in his mouth. Then he speaks.

“Did I find it or I need to try again?” The vibrations from his mouth – and his hot breath – go straight to the bundle of nerves in his mouth as embarrassingly loud moans leave yours.

“Sh-Shut up and focus. You owe m-me an orgasm.” The words transition into a whine the longer you talk. It’s impossible to talk at all, really. The material of your panties is stuck to you obscenely and you want to cry with relief when he finally pulls them to the side.

“J-Just take them off Jungkook. Hurry up.” The brat just chuckles like he’s watching a sitcom.

“Seems like you’re the virgin here.”

“So you admit you haven’t had sex at all?”

“What? No! that’s not what I meant.” He’s pouting therefore his mouth has stopped and you can finally take a breather and not embarrass yourself.

“Mhmm. Sure little guy.” Your chuckle has most likely provoked him but instead of being happy that he’s definitely enthusiastic about eating you out – you’re a little scared that he might even just kill you with his mouth with the way his eyes stared back at you.

He’s lowering his mouth once again until his lips gently hug your nether ones. He’s so calm about his movements that you have to hold your breath to not give away how much it’s shaking. He shakes his head slowly as if to snuggly fit his lips in a seal around your entrance. And then – his tongue is spearing in and out of your pussy as deep as the stiffened muscle can get.

Your head is falling back with the shock of how pleasurable the sensation of his tongue inside your pussy is since you’ve never had someone so thoroughly taste you like this before. Most guys only ever just focused on your clit while Jungkook was moaning around your pussy like he was having the most desired delicacy in the world. His pace is increasing gradually while your noises are not. You are not far from screaming your head off when a particular thrust of his devilish tongue reaches deep enough for your eyes to roll back in your head.

“J-Jungkook, oh-” you hiccup, “god.”

“Mm. Your pussy tastes so good. I could eat you all night.” He’s taking a breath each time he talk – slick covering his lips and chin as he takes small sucks of your clit keeping you constantly stimulated but never enough to make you cum – yet.

“You like my tongue babe? Hm? You’re so warm and soft and tight it’s hard for me to fuck your pussy open.” He’s growling out his words like earlier and you think you might just cum from his words.

“But that’s what my fingers are for, hm? To fuck you nice and open for my cock. That’s it.” He’s cooing like you’re the one who needs coaching through their first orgasm. But it might as well be true because the way you feel right now is unlike any other time you’ve cum. Your insides are wound tighter than ever and you physically feel like you’re going to start sobbing any second from the intensity of your climax.

A sob finally breaks free when Jungkook shoves his middle finger in you as his mouth moves up to your clit. He doesn’t bother setting a gradual pace like he had with his tongue – instead he shoves another one inside. “Fuck. You’re so tight. I’m not even sure I’m going to fit inside babe.”

If you could form any form of speech in any language right now you would tell him off for giving himself too much credit. He can’t be that big.

“I’m s-so c-close. Jungkook p-please.” Your hands are balled in to fists in his sheets while your legs twitch with the force it’s taking for you to not close them. Also helps that Jungkook is holding your thighs open from smashing closed on his skull and possibly cracking it. You might consider doing that later after you’ve came.

Speaking of – you do exactly that when Jungkook’s lips form a seal around your clit once again and suck in tandem with his fingers that scissor in and out of your pulsing cunt. Wet sounds have filled the room for quite some time but you can’t hear anything but a white noise as an almost violent wave of your orgasm rushes through you. You don’t remember how long it goes on for but it feels like forever. And when you finally come to again you have to push your hands against his head to make him stop licking at you since your legs have probably expired now.

“Knew you were a screamer.”

“What?” You’re still panting – pathetic. Jungkook is wearing a shit eating grin as he lets your underwear snap back in place making you cringe from the friction of the fabric overstimulating you.

“And a gusher. Holy shit.” All the blood has rushed to your cheeks – you can feel it from how hot your face feels right now and you know it’s not from just having come harder than you ever have.

“Shut up oh my god.”

[emeraldwaves]

Title: What We Lack Part 12 Pairing:  Kacchako, Deku/Melissa, Todomomo Rating: T Word Count: 4,429 Read on Ao3 Summary:  

Quirkless.

They’re the last people anyone expects to have a child without a quirk.

Neither of them can fully wrap their heads around it, but Ochako knows Katsuki is struggling far more than her.

Thank you to @its-love-u-asshole for beta-ing

Full fic under the cut

Adjusting his tie in the mirror, Yuuta glanced over how the U.A. suit fit him. It was clean and fresh, ironed out by his mother. She told him he should keep it looking nice if possible, but he wasn’t sure if he would actually remember to do that. With how much work and training they would have to do, ironing out his suit was a low priority, but for now, he was pleased with how it looked.

He’d seen pictures of his parents in their uniforms plenty of times, but for some reason he felt dorky wearing his. He definitely didn’t look as classy as his mother or father.

First day of school, and he was excited to see who his teacher would be. He also wondered what class would be like; would they be active, or spend most of their time in the classroom? He glanced down at his phone, three messages blinking across the screen.

[Text from: Mom]: Good luck today, Yuuta!

[Text from: Dad]: You're going to do amazing. We're so proud.

He couldn't help but smile at the two texts from his parents. He sent loving texts back, and he hoped Arata did the same. He didn't understand why Arata had been so intense lately, but he couldn't keep trying to figure it out, not when he had school to worry about.

There was a knock on the door and Yuuta jumped. "J-Just a second!" He grabbed his bag and tucked his phone into his pocket, immediately running to go open it.

Shouhei was leaning against the wall, tapping at his phone. "You ready?" he smirked, looking at Yuuta. He couldn't help but blush, partially because he knew Shouhei was looking at him, but also because Shouhei himself looked far better in the suit than Yuuta did!

"Mhm!" he nodded, smiling at his boyfriend. He glanced down at Shouhei's hands; were they supposed to hold hands when they walked to class together? Were they even really officially together? Maybe he should ask?

"Yuu..." Shouhei said, nudging his side. "What are you freaking out about?"

"F-Freaking out!?" Yuuta said, blinking. "I-I'm not!"

"You are! Dumbass, I know what you do when you freak out; you get all nervous and jumpy!" Shouhei teased.

He sighed. "It's just... first day of school jitters!"

"Okay, okay," Shouhei snorted, buying the excuse. "You have nothing to be worried about. You're strong as hell, and we're both in the same class, so who cares! It's gonna be great."

"Who do you think our teacher is going to be?" he asked, the two of them making their way down the stairs and out of the door.

"I heard my Dad grumbling about it," Shouhei said, "so I wonder if it's going to be someone we know."

"Grumbling?" Yuuta asked, opening the door to follow Shouhei outside. "In a bad way?"

"I mean my Dad is always grumbling in a bad way," Shouhei snorted.

The two of them continued to make guesses as they walked to school. Yuuta prayed everything would go alright for the first day. Shouhei was right; they, at the very least, had each other, so even if everyone else was weird, it wouldn't be a big deal.

"A-Are you really not nervous, Shou?" Yuuta asked, staring at the front entrance to the large school.

"Nope! Why would I be?" Shouhei chuckled. "It's just school, Yuu. It's gonna be like middle school."

"I-I dunno," he shrugged. "A lot of people worked hard to get into this school," he said, scuffing his feet against the ground.

"Yeah? And so did you?"

"But we also have... our names behind us. I mean our dads are in the top 3 all the time, and our moms easily make the top 10... Won't people think we got in because of them?"

Shouhei frowned, leaning towards Yuuta. "To hell with 'em!" he said, waving his hand back and forth. "Who the hell cares what they think? The second we start training they're going to realize how serious we are and it has nothing to do with our names! Just because you're Todoroki Yuuta... that means nothing. You're you and you're strong."

Blushing, Yuuta took Shouhei's hand. "Thanks Shou. I wish I was a confident as you."

"Growing up around stubborn parents, you kinda just become confident," he chuckled, squeezing his hand.

"Fair," Yuuta said. He could imagine being around Katsuki all the time wasn't easy. The man was very intense, and apparently he'd mellowed out with his older age? Yuuta found it a little hard to believe.

"You good?" Shouhei asked.

"Yeah," Yuuta nodded, letting his fingers slip away from Shouhei's. If he could've walked into school clinging to him, he probably would have. Not the most adult thing to say, but Yuuta was nervous. He would be fine after a day or two, he was sure.

He walked into the classroom, taking his seat near the back, Shouhei was more near the middle, closer to the window. Yuuta glanced in front of him, forgetting he and Arata were in different classes this time. Normally his twin brother would be seated right in front of him but... not this time.

"Good morning, class!" A familiar cheery voice called out as Kirishima Mina stepped into the room.

Yuuta's eyes widened. The last thing he expected was Mina to be his teacher! No wonder Katsuki had been grumbling about it, Eijirou had probably been talking about it to him non-stop.

"I'm so excited to be here!" Mina said, smiling at the students. "My first class ever! I decided to take a small break from hero work," she began, "to work with all of you! I'm excited to see some familiar faces, and lots of new ones." She erupted into giggles, but then quickly placed her hands down on the table.

"I had the best time here at U.A, and I want to make it the best for you too!" she said. "That being said, I won't hesitate to kick your asses into shape!"

Honestly, knowing Mina, Yuuta believed that.

"There are lots of fun things on the horizon, the training camp, the sports fest!" she said, listing off a few. "But, don't think it'll all be fun and games! " she giggled.

Shouhei glanced behind himself, looking at Yuuta with a smirk. It was shocking, but Yuuta actually felt relieved, knowing Mina was his teacher, it made him look forward to school just a little more..

~~

"So, is it nice being alone in the house?" Kazu asked, pulling out his lunch, the two of them sitting on the roof.

Sayuri puffed out her lips. "I dunno if I would call it 'alone'." She let out a long huff, unfolding the small pouch she put her lunch in. "My parents are still there."

"I meant the only kid," Kazu muttered.

"Yeah, yeah. I just was giving you shit," she teased, reaching forward to poke Kazu's cheek with her chopstick.

"Ugh," he grunted and shook his head. "You know, you can really be the worst sometimes."

"I know," she giggled, shoving some rice into her mouth. "And... I dunno. I mean it's weird not having Shou around, but it's kinda nice, but still weird."

"So you really you have no idea how you feel." Wasn't that the truth? Kazu was so good at seeing right through her confusion and lack of understanding of her own damn emotions.

Truthfully she was jealous Shouhei was away. She did miss him, but mostly she was jealous he was actually getting to train to be a hero. If she had a quirk, she knew she would be the best fucking hero there was. Just like her parents and-

"Sayuri?"

"Huh?" she said, blinking when Kazu called out her name.

"You were spacing out pretty hard," Kazu chuckled.

"Ugh..." She snorted and ran her hand through her blonde hair. "I dunno, Kazu. It's just... it's weird. Like... I miss him, but also I'm just kinda... whatever about the whole thing."

Or at least she was trying to be. She was so tired of constantly going back and forth on her thoughts regarding her quirklessness. Some days she would wake up and feel like she could conquer the world, regardless of her status, and other days it was harder, like she didn't know who she could be.

Useless, and worthless to everyone, even her parents.

It was on those days she seemed to notice the way her father occasionally looked at her.

"Whatever?" Kazu asked, tilting his head. "That sounds like you're deflecting."

Sayuri groaned. "Kazu... can you act like a teenager for like, one second?" she said. "Why are you suddenly my goddamn therapist!?"

"S-Sorry!" he stammered, waving his hand quickly. "I-I just wanted to... make sure you were okay."

"Yeah, yeah," she grumbled. "I'm fine. It's gonna be another fun school year or whatever. At least at home I can actually focus, instead of listening to Shouhei and my Dad freaking out while they train in the backyard."

"Right-"

The door slammed, and three girls stormed out onto the roof. One of them was a tall blonde with cat-like eyes. The other two were shorter, one with a large nose, the other with long straw-like hair. Sayuri was horrible with names but she knew they were all bitches. "Well, well, well, if it isn't the loser squad. The nerd and the quirkless wonder! Get off of our roof." Sayuri was almost certain her name was Hayami, but she didn't care to try and remember.

"Your roof? Oh boy, mean girls, like I've never experienced this before," Sayuri said, rolling her eyes. She pushed herself up, her skirt flapping around her legs in the breeze.

Kazu blushed, "S-Sayu..."

"It's fine, Kazu," she muttered.

"You don't have your brother or the Todoroki twins to hide behind anymore," Hayami snapped. "You two know this our spot, if you think a new year at school would change anything... I'm so sick of your shitty attitude."

"Have you taken a look in the mirror lately?" Sayuri scoffed, folding her arms over her chest. "Like what you're doing right now isn't shitty..."

"Sayuri we should just go-"

"Kazu!" she hissed.

"Maybe you should consider listening to your friend," Hayami giggled. "I would hate for you to get in trouble."

"You know if you do this shit," Sayuri began, "you're going to get in trouble too."

"Everyone knows whose daughter you are, Bakugou," she snapped. "Everyone knows what your father is like. If I tell them you hurt me because you were jealous of my quirk, who do you think they're going to believe-"

Clenching her fist, Sayuri pulled her hand back and connected with the catgirl's face. Hayami fell backwards into the girl with a large nose, whimpers slipping from her lip, blood trickling down her jaw. "You stupid bitch!" she screamed. "You actually punched me."

"Yeah well, you were being a fuckin' bitch first so... don't dish it out if you can't take it."

Her nails elongated into claws, and she growled, lunging forward. Sayuri leaned back, attempting to dodge the swipe but the girl nicked her chin, a long scratch bleeding down her jawline.

"Sayuri!" Kazu yelled. "Let's just leave... I don't want you to get in trouble-"

"Shut up!" she said. "I'm not going to let these bitches push us around this year!" Yelling, she dashed towards the girl, dodging another swipe of her long claws. "You know," she panted, stumbling back. "You're not supposed to use your quirk at school."

"That must be so difficult for you," the girl purred. "Having to hold yours back... Oh wait!"

"Fuckin' shut your damn mouth!" she said. She tried to punch her again, but completely missed. "Don't you get tired of this shit? NGH!" She gasped when the girl kicked her to the ground, her nails digging into her back. Blood began to seep into her uniform, and she groaned, knowing this wasn't going to go over well with her parents.

Kazu gasped, standing up to run to her. "S-Sayuri!" he said. "Why can't you just leave us alone? We're just trying to enjoy lunch-"

"Because you two nerds need to learn your place. Just because your parents are amazing, doesn't mean you are!"

Helping Sayuri stand, she saw Kazu frown, though she winced at the pain on her back, glancing away from him.

"We have never treated anyone differently because of who our parents are," he snapped. "You're the only one treating people horribly!"

"Well someone has to put you in your place," she said, gently touching over her nails as she retracted them.

Sayuri glared at the group of girls, walking with Kazu back towards the building.

It sure was going to be one hell of a year.

~~

Arata stared out the window as he took the train to his grandfather's house. He glanced at his watch, knowing he wouldn't have as much time as he wanted. Stupid curfew. He wished he could just stay at his grandfather's house and keep training.

Already school was frustrating. He didn't care for the way his teacher spoke, as if things were going to be fun. He wanted to work hard and actually train to be better. If things were so 'fun', he would never get to better himself.

He brushed his fingers over the screen.

[Text from: Mom]: Good luck on your first day, Arata!

[Text from: Dad]: We're so proud of you. We love you.

[Text Mom & Dad]: Thanks.

It was such a short concise answer; he could practically see the disappointment on his mother's face.

He stepped off the train and made his way to Enji's house, stopping outside. After coming here for almost a week, he did feel like he was getting better. Contrary to everything his father had told him, his grandfather wasn't horrible. Admittedly, he didn't know why his father hated Enji so much. He'd never gone into much detail, it wasn't something they liked to talk about.

"Come in, Arata," Enji said, leading him inside to the training room. "You had your first day of school today?" he asked.

"Yeah..." he muttered, looking down at the ground. He gripped his bag in determination. "I want to be ready for the sports festival!" he said.

"Ah... yes... of course," Enji said. "Then you'll have to push yourself even harder. We'll need to train you to be better with colder temperatures. Your quirk sucks away your body heat; you need to be more prepared for that. You always stop when it gets too low. You also need to learn to create your crystals faster. It's too bad you inherited the creation style quirk like your mother."

The way Enji spoke of his mother made him wince. Momo was incredibly strong; for as long as Arata had watched her, she had incredible control over her quirk and utilized it quite well. He wasn't about to argue with the man.

"R-Right," he nodded, his heart thumping in his chest. He knew Yuuta was stronger, even if his brother didn't care to admit it. Despite his natural strength, Yuuta did have poor control over his flames.

"Good," he said. "Warm-up."

Enji was always quite blunt when it came to training, something Arata wasn't used to. When he worked on his quirk with his parents, they were always gentle, never pushing him. But he wanted to be better and this... this was the only way.

He began his warm-up stretches and created a few smaller crystals. They weren't very heated, only slightly warmed in order to save the heat he needed for later.

"We also need to work on you making larger crystals," he said.

Arata bit his lip. He knew he was terrible at that. He could sometimes make them all in a row but they were always small. It would've been easier if he could make them in a row, or flow more like lava... but he had no idea if that was even possible.

Enji's flamed burned so bright, just like his father's. Arata wished he had something like that... or that his quirk was easier to figure out, like Yuuta's. The idea of controlling his body temperature through flames seemed far easier.

"Try and make a larger crystal this first time, now that you've warmed yourself up," Enji stated, folding his arms over his chest.

"Okay," Arata nodded.

Generally he made them from his palm. Anytime he tried elsewhere they looked odd, and occasionally hurt. He held his palm out, allowing for a larger crystal to pop out, though it wasn't much bigger.

"Mmmm. You always use your palm. Use your chest," Enji said.

Arata swallowed. "I-I don't know if I can," he said. "It usually hurts when I try and do it from there."

"Try."

"Okay..." Arata said, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. He closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath of air as he allowed the heat to pool forward in his chest, sweat slowly rolling down his brow. His lungs felt tight, pain shooting through his spine as he pushed a large crystal out, panting as he did it. It fell to the floor, steaming and larger than most of the things he'd made before.

Almost immediately, he fell to his knees. "Dammit..." he grunted.

"Good. Better," Enji said. "If you're in pain, push through it. This is how you get stronger."

Shivering, cold began to settle into his body. Arata pursed his lips, panting as he tried to keep his temperature stable. He pulled a lot of heat for the crystal in front of him, hadn't Enji noticed that? "Could you use your flame to warm the room?" Arata asked.

"No," Enji said flatly. "I won't be around to assist you at school or in the field. Plus, you should be able to make things like this with ease," he continued. "This is what you are training for. If you could create these faster, you could trap villains in your crystalized structure. You need to get better at creating various shapes as well."

Swallowing, Arata knew Enji was right. He just wish he had a better idea as to how to do that.

Why was it such a struggle to get his body to listen to him? There was so much to do, and the more he trained the farther away it all felt. Wasn't it supposed to be the other way around?

~~

"Oh, sweetheart. The first day?" Ochako said, standing in the hallway of the school. Sayuri had her gym t-shirt on, after the nurse had wrapped practically her entire body in bandages from the scratch on her back.

"Whatever, Mom, can we please just leave?" she asked, folding her arms over her chest. "I need to get out of here."

"It-It wasn't Sayuri's fault, Auntie!" Kazu stammered, looking between the two girls.

"I'm sure," Ochako sighed. "Are you going to be okay, Kazu? I'm going to take Sayuri home. If you would be so kind as to get all her assignments..."

"Mhm... Yeah..." he nodded, glancing down. "See you tomorrow, Sayu..."

"Yeah, bye," she said, trying her best not to completely snap at the other boy.

Holding her ripped uniform in her hand, Sayuri followed her mother out of the school in silence. She really had nothing to say to her, and quite frankly she knew her parents weren't going to be happy. Knowing them, they'd suggest switching schools again.

She climbed into the car, shutting the door and staring out the window, too embarrassed to look at her mother.

"Sayu... you know you can talk to me about these things."

"Yup," she said.

"Is this about your brother leaving-"

"No, Mom. Not everything has to do with Shouhei," she snapped.

"I wasn't implying that it did," Ochako said softly.

Sayuri almost wished it was her father, cause at least he wouldn't speak to her like she was some pathetic kicked puppy. "I'm fine, Mom."

"You were scratched by a girl at school because you punched her for a reason still unclear to me. You're not fine," Ochako said, far more stern.

"What's there to say!" Sayuri shrugged. "She was trying to kick me and Kazu off the roof. She said we needed to be put in our places because of who our parents are. So... I put her in hers."

"Well she obviously got a good hit on you too. For your own safety... you can't be doing things like this-"

"What, because I'm quirkless?!" she yelled. "Because I'm not... as strong as you and Dad and Shouhei. I tried to punch her and I missed. It was just fuckin' sloppy!"

"Sayuri, you know this has nothing to do with you being quirkless."

"Doesn't it always kinda have to do with that, Mom?" she snapped. "If I wasn't quirkless, those girls would leave me alone. If I wasn't quirkless, I could actually do something about it!"

"It's not all about that and you know it!" Ochako sighed, running her fingers through her hair. "I don't... want you getting into fights at school, but if it's a matter of protecting yourself then we can spar together more. How about that?"

"Gee thanks," Sayuri said, folding her arms over her chest. "I'd love a pity spar."

Ochako put the car in park, pulling into their driveway. "You're just like your father, so damn stubborn! I think it would be good for you to learn better techniques anyway," Ochako said. "It is not a 'pity spar'. I'm your mother, and I want to teach my daughter to protect herself."

"Whatever, Mom," Sayuri said, getting out of the car. She yanked her key out of her backpack, shoving it inside the door to their house as she stormed towards her room.

She was probably being irrational. Wasn't she always? It was embarrassing to talk about this kind of stuff with her mother. Her parents were both strong beyond measure, and while learning from her mother would be amazing... it made her feel even more pathetic.

She slammed her door shut and screamed, tossing her bag against her bed. She thought about her break, and how productive she felt working with Melissa and Kazu. Why couldn't school be like that too? Why couldn’t these fucking extra bitches just leave her alone?!

Crawling into bed, she tried to forget the whole day. She shut her eyes, hoping to doze off, but instead she stared at the wall, wondering how different life would be if she went to a different school. People were assholes everywhere. She couldn't imagine it would make much of a difference. There'd be another bitchy cat girl at a new school too.

It didn't take long for there to be a knock at the door, someone interrupting her peace and quiet. "Go away!"

"Not gonna happen, baby girl."

She froze. Her father.

She certainly hadn't been expecting to hear him. When had he even come home?

He turned the knob, opening the door as he slammed it shut behind him. "What the hell is going on?"

She yanked her blanket over her head, hiding even more. "Nothing," she snapped.

"Then why the hell were you bleeding at school? Your mother called me practically sobbing into the goddamn phone," Bakugou hissed. She felt his weight on her bed, sinking down.

"I don't wanna talk about it!" she yelled. "I think you of all people should understand that! You suck at talking, Dad!"

She heard him sigh. "Look baby girl, you can't be fucking fighting at school-"

"Says you!" she snapped, finally sitting up to glare at him.

"Oi!" he yelled. "I got into shitty fights at school and it sucked. I'm not telling you to let this girl stomp all over you. But your mother wants to help you and I want you to fucking be grateful!"

"Wow!" she yelled back. "Well, I'm sorry for not wanting your pity party!" she yelled. "I get that me being quirkless is pathetic and all to you-"

"Stop," he said flatly, looking down. "Enough of that bullshit."

"See!" she yelled. "You can't even look at me! And when you do I-I know that's what you're thinking!"

"That's never what I'm thinking, Sayuri!" he yelled back. He turned his head towards her, his red eyes glaring.

"Oh yeah? Then what are you thinking, enlighten me, Dad!"

She saw the way his fingers curled around the edge of the bed and his shoulders trembled slightly. Was he really so bothered by this?

He let out a frustrated breath. "I keep fuckin' thinking that I hate this! I hate it so fucking much. I hate seeing you come home with a fucking injury because some bitch at school felt like they had to make fun of you to feel better about themselves. It takes all of my fucking being to not storm over to that girl's house and blow it up! I'm the number one fucking hero and I can't even protect my own damn daughter!"

Sayuri blinked, unsure if she should breathe... unsure if he was actually done speaking. It was rare he spoke so candidly. "Dad..." she said.

"And... I..." he stopped himself. Instead of saying anything else, he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "I just want to fuckin' keep you safe, baby girl and the older you get... the more I can't."

She wasn't expecting such an outburst, though she supposed it was her father. She swallowed and stared at him. "Dad... I... I'm sorry-"

"Those girls," he continued, cutting her off. "They should say sorry. For the things they do, and the things they say. Fuckin' shits!" he growled. "You don't ever have to apologize. You're strong and perfect just the way you are!"

"I-I know I just..." she bit her lip, trying not to cry. All of this would've been so much easier if she just had a stupid quirk. Even if it was a small one... then maybe she wouldn't cause her family so much pain.

She reached forward and gently wrapped her hand around Bakugou's, clinging to his fingers. "I'll train with Mom. I'll... talk to her at dinner."

"Good," he muttered. "Your mother is kick ass, she'll teach you how to throw a real good punch."

"Yeah... yeah... I know," she said. She leaned forward to rest her forehead against his shoulder, letting a few tears roll down from her eyes. Why couldn’t she be normal so they could all stop worrying about her?

[pointy-hat-witch]

Title: The Magic Song Series: KiriBakuWeek2019 Show: Boku no Hero Academia Pairing: Kirishima/Bakugou Summary:  Cinderella AU | Eirijou works as a servant at the royal castle and one day his hair turned red. That screams for stupid ideas. A/N: Collection of works for KiriBakuWeek 2019. First time writing KiriBaku, they deserve so much love. Ha.

You can read chapter 3 on AO3 if you want to! :) [Complete]

Tears were stinging in his eyes as he flew down the corridor, refused to be shed and as soon as Eijirou reached the east wing, his hair had turned black fully. He leaned against the wall with one hand, gasping for air. Eyes squeezed shut, he tried to forget the hurt in Bakugou’s eyes as he ran away from him. That couldn’t be happening. They had a plan. After tonight they wouldn’t meet again, ever. But now, now Eijirou couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t give Bakugou at least some kind of explanation.

Slowly, he let go of the wall, swallowing down his dry throat and trudged back to his sleeping chamber where his friends were already waiting for him. He opened the door and he didn’t need to say anything, they kind of got what happened just by looking at him. Silently, Mina walked up to him to give him a tight hug. Eijirou leaned his forehead against her shoulder, breathing in with a shudder.

“I like him. I like him so much.” He muttered. Mina patted his hair, carefully untangling the braids.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. This is the worst.” Eijirou gritted through his teeth and grabbed onto Mina’s sleeping shirt. “I don’t… I want to see him again. But”, he had to swallow down the tears, “I don’t think I should.” He stood back up again. “I mean, I should give him something and not just let him hanging, you know, but”, he shook his head, hair falling down over his ears, “I’m not worth it. I’m a lowlife servant and he’s the goddamn prince. This was all a fucking dream and it’s time to wake up.”

As he said that, he stepped away from Mina, grabbing at his vest and shirt and ripped it off himself violently, almost ripping it.

“Eijirou!” Hanta and Denki cried out, rushing to his side. “Calm down!”

“I am calm.” His voice trembled, belittling his own words. He huffed out in annoyance, trying to find back his composure. “The more I see him, the more I stall the inevitable, the more it will hurt. If I just draw a line now, we are done for good. He will be furious a few days, I will be fed up with myself a little, and then everything will be back to normal.”

Nodding to himself, Eijirou grabbed his nightshirt and pulled it over his head, just to be faced with Denki, hovering directly in front of him. He wore the maddest expression he had ever seen on his face.

“What the fuck, Eijirou?!” he growled.

“Wh-what?”

“You actually believe that? You actually think we would believe this bullshit?” He spat, hands trembling at his side, balled into fists. “Even a blind man could see how much you’re hurt by all of this and how much you like this stupid prince. Why not take a goddamn risk, for god’s sake?”

At first, Eijirou was taken aback. He had never heard Denki raise his voice, not in anger at least. Furthermore, not directed at him. This was something he never expected to experience at all. But then, heat grew in his chest, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Taking a risk? You want me to be hanged, is that it? That’s not ‘taking a risk’, this is playing with my life, do you understand this?” He shouted. “What do you think would happen? I get all lovey-dovey with the prince and he would, I don’t know, make me his mistress or—oh, yeah, why not marry him to be king right away? Ah, right, because I am a fucking servant.”

He panted at the end, taking in a sharp breath. Denki and he glared at each other until Eijirou scoffed and walked over to his bed. “I’m done. Good night.”

Helplessly, Mina and Hanta stood next to each other while Denki clicked his tongue.

“Fine, whatever.” And slipped under the blanket in his own bed. There was nothing left to be said. Eijirou had turned his back to his friends and stared against the wall. He wasn’t tired at all, at least not physically. His mind was numb, and he would prefer for sleep to take him but, of course, his body was still trembling by adrenaline rushing through his veins. The events still fresh in his mind, Eijirou struggled to find any sleep that night at all.

So, when he deemed it reasonable enough, Eijirou got up before the others woke up and quietly stole out of the room, searching for the first thing to work on. The other servants, fortunately, left him alone, giving him small smiles and some nods instead of talking to him. Maybe, the bags under his eyes were indicator enough he didn’t want to talk.

Most of the morning he spent with peeling potatoes, carrots and other vegetables. Mind-numbing activities that didn’t require a lot of thinking but attention nonetheless. When he saw the cooks getting ready to prepare the soup for lunch, he walked up without thinking this through, but he did that already rarely enough.

“Do you have other recipes as well?” His voice, raspy from being unused since yesterday, sounded foreign to himself. The cooks looked up, giving him some kind of glare.

“What?”

“The prince thinks, cooks would experiment with the food a little more. It became kinda bland to him.” The words came out mechanically.

“Hah?” One of the three cooks rested his hands on his hips, fixing him with his crooked eyes. “So, a servant wants to tell me how to do my job?”

Eijirou shook his head, already drained mentally by this short conversation. “I was just saying. The prince got bored of your food.” The words were harsher than he intended but still held truth in them. The cook was seething at him.

“You little mon—” another cook held him by his arm. “Calm down!” He pushed him back, standing between Eijirou and the cook. He threw Eijirou a glance over the shoulder before turning his head back to the other cook.

“We already talked about this. The others and I”, he gestured vaguely towards the other cooks, “we were thinking about… mixing things up a bit. We have like three recipes for every course and even we think it’s boring.” He turned his back now to the cook and stared at him with wide eyes.

“What did the prince say?”

Eijirou blinked, slowly remembering the evening. “He said, that it was bland. Like, I don’t think he meant the taste but… variety? Getting always four courses, same order, same recipes he is used to. Thank kinda thing?” He shrugged.

The cook nodded, already far away in thoughts. “Thanks for bringing this up. We can work with that.”

Eijirou just nodded as the chefs were already starting to discuss their next step. Eijirou didn’t linger any longer, returning to his task. Except, now his thoughts were filled with the memories of last evening. Biting his lower lip, Eijirou tried to concentrate on the kitchen knife in his hand, pulling down to skin the potato, dropping the skin in the basket, peel down the next str—

“Ah!” Eijirou hissed as the knife cut into his thumb, not too deep but enough for it to draw blood immediately, running down the length of his finger. “Damn it.” He put the tip of his thumb in his mouth, sucking the blood from it and stopping the wound to bleed further with his tongue.

Excusing himself with a raised hand at one of the other servants who was peeling vegetables, Eijirou stood up and slowly walked down the hallway of the east wing. Maybe he was procrastinating to get to his destination and on other occasions, he would just continue his task without complaining but he was working with food and the cut needed a professional assessment before he could finish his work.

Needing more than double the time than before when he ran this way, he reached the wooden door. He gave the door a sharp knock, waiting for the usual “Come on in!” before entering.

Denki sat on his wooden stool, this time with some books, cataloging their inventory. He looked up and his smile froze just a little on his face. Eijirou’s chest tightened. He pulled out his thumb that was still oozing little droplets of blood, showing it to Denki who raised an eyebrow at him.

“What did you do this time?” His voice was a careful balance between polite and worried.

“Peeling potatoes. Was a little distracted.” Eijirou mumbled, eyes staring at Denki’s desk to not meet his eyes. Denki hummed in response and was already pulling out a drawer at his side.

“Sit.” Was all he said, Eijirou following the order. There was an uncomfortable silence between them as Denki began to disinfect the cut, tapping a cotton ball dipped in alcohol against it.

“Listen”, Eijirou professed, “I’m… I didn’t really mean what I said yesterday. I’m sorry.” He hunched his shoulders, bowing his head as he apologized. Denki didn’t stop his action, pulling up a band-aid and pressed it on the cut, sealing it for good.

“I’m sorry, too.” He mumbled. Eijirou looked up to see Denki making a face at the ground. “I… I don’t know, I was agitated and said things I didn’t mean. Of course, I don’t want to see you hanging and I get what you mean and I know it must suck for you the most. I was just excited because something, you know, was happening and I…”, he huffed, taking in a small breath, “I may have been a little jealous.” He grumbled reluctantly in one single breath.

Eijirou blinked. “You like the prince?”

“What? No!” Denki’s head shot up and looked at him as if he grew another head. “How did you… No! That guy is the worst, I have no idea what you’re seeing in him!”

“Then why would you be jealous?” Eijirou shook his head, not getting it. Denki groaned, slapping one hand against his forehead.

“Because something was happening to you. You got to talk with nobles, could dress up, getting all private with the prince, hell, you have magic hair dye!” Denki threw his hands in the air. “And I sit here every day, doing nothing. Treating cuts stupid servants get by getting distracted over fantasies with the prince.” He threw Eijirou a smug grin.

“Wha—” Eijirou felt his face heat up, knowing Denki was right. “I didn’t fantasize about anybody.” He mumbled. “And more important, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let you out of the loop. You helped me all the time and I just let you do your thing without thinking about it. Mina and Hanta, too.” He bowed his head, hands rested on his knees. “I’m really sorry.”

“Dude”, Denki slapped his shoulder, “it’s okay. We both kind of fucked up. So,” he raised his hand, “we good?”

Eijirou clasped at it with his own, squeezing it without hesitation. “We good.” They grinned at each other. Eijirou couldn’t imagine living and working here without Denki by his side. Or Mina and Hanta. They were sometimes the only reasons he didn’t succumb in self-loathe or lost his sanity. He didn’t know if he could handle losing anyone of them.

“So?” Denki leaned his cheek on one hand, propped up at his desk, drawing out the syllable.

“So what?” Eijirou raised an eyebrow, earning Denki rolling his eyes at him.

“Did you really mean it that you didn’t want to see the prince again?”

Eijirou huffed, pulling at the hem of his sleeve. “I do”, he croaked. “I really do”, he repeated a little more confident. “It’s the best course of action. I want to end it”, he took a deep breath.

“But?” Denki prompted.

“I want to talk to him one last time. Like, just not vanish and his last memory of me would be me running away from him from a banquet.”

“And himself running into a servant? Priceless.” Denki chuckled. “No, I get it.”

“He did what now?” Eijirou’s eyes threatened to pop out.

“Oh, you didn’t hear?” Denki grinned. “Tetsutetsu kinda walked into him to cut him off from following you but they’re both pretty strong so, you know, tray went flying, people were falling, dishes got destroyed, the whole package.”

Eijirou groaned into his hands. “Even more important, I need to talk to him.” Another shake of his head. “And thanking Tetsutetsu.”

Denki crossed his arms, humming in thoughts. “You could wait for the next banquet, but you could…” He trailed off waiting for Eijirou to look at him. “There is another possibility. I need to look into it first, but there is a chance you could talk or see him again before that.”

“What do you mean?” Eijirou blinked. Denki leaned over, looking around as if he was afraid someone would listen in to their conversation, dropping in volume as he continues.

“There is a new guy, a servant directly appointed to some of the nobles living in the castle. Word has it, that he smuggles in and out different kinds of wares. You could”, he shrugged, “get a message or something inside to the prince.”

Eijirou gasped, adjusting his voice the same level as Denki. “That could work?”

“I don’t know yet”, Denki huffed, “like I said, I would look into it first. Nothing good would happen if they fuck up or something.” Eijirou nodded in agreement. Their next step had to be carefully planned and executed. And they probably had to act fast, knowing Bakugou, Eijirou could imagine that he was fuming right now and would act rather hotheadedly.

“Can you get in contact with them? As soon as possible?”

“I can try. Don’t know if it will work, so maybe think of something else, too.” Eijirou patted his shoulder and grinned at him. Eijirou answered in kind and nodded at him.

“Thank you, Denki, really. I owe you so much already.”

“Nah”, Denki waved at him in dismissal. “Don’t mention it. I’ll let you know as soon as I know what’s up.”

Eijirou thanked him again before finally returning to the kitchen, continuing his work. His thoughts were mulled over by thinking about what to tell Bakugou. He could just meet up with him in private and tell him about his ‘engagement’, leave and never come back, like they originally planned. But will it really work out that way? Eijirou made a face at that. As if Bakugou would just say, yeah, ok, alright, farewell. Sure.

Eijirou grabbed for his next potato only to grab at empty air. Turning his head around slightly, he was met with an empty bucket. He looked over to the other servants peeling away, he stood up and walked over to their pantry to retrieve the next batch of potatoes. Or maybe carrots, to mix things up. He chuckled at himself.

After opening the door, he looked around for the next bucket of vegetables and saw them in the far back. He made a big step inside and as soon as he reached the bucket, the door fell shut. With a small yelp, Eijirou jerked up and gritted his teeth.

“Are you Eijirou?” A voice, low and raspy but surprisingly even echoed through the room.

“What the…” Eijirou stood frozen on the spot. His eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness but only saw the fuzzy outlines of the racks at the wall.

“You want something from inside the castle?" The voice continues, bouncing from one wall to the other.

“I…” Eijirou blinked, croaking, “I don’t? I mean, I want something to get inside the castle?” Not really knowing what was going on, he just hoped, the person or whatever was what Denki spoke about. He listened to the silence that followed.

“What do you want?” A whisper, something like air blowing through the room.

“A message to the prince.” He whispered back.

“Just a message?” The voice rasped into his ear, making him flinch and jerk around. He was surrounded by nothing but darkness. What did the voice mean by that? That was what they would be doing, right? Denki said, they worked to smuggle goods in and out and he wanted a message in. To the prince.

“Y-yeah?”

“What do you want?” The voice, now heavier inside the room, boomed. Eijirou yelped, pressing against one of the cupboards. What if someone would hear them? He swallowed, feeling a little unsafe.

“I… I don’t know wh-what you mean!” He stuttered, eyes darting around into nothingness.

“What do you want from inside the castle?” The voice, almost soothing now, caressed the outside of his ear, making him shiver. A face popped inside his mind, a smug grin, a boisterous laugh, a calloused hand.

“The Prince.” He breathed barely audible, but the heavy atmosphere vanished almost immediately. Taking a deep breath, Eijirou fumbled along the cupboards, hands reaching in front of him, as he stumbled against the door. With a hefty push of his shoulder, the door swung open without resistance. The door yanked open, crashing against the wall behind it.

Slightly panting, all eyes were on him. He huffed out an awkward laugh. “Got a little claustrophobic.” Swallowing hard around the lump in his throat, he stepped back into the pantry, grabbing the first basket he could reach and heaved it outside. That was… something. He returned to his spot with the other servants and started peeling the carrots.

Trying to push the memories about what transpired in the pantry to the back of his mind, concentrating at his task to not cut himself again, the morning passed in the blink of an eye and when midday came around, he met up with his friends to eat lunch. As soon as they entered the dining hall for servant, Eijirou ushered them to the far back of the room away from the other servants and sat down on the small wooden table, he kicked Denki against the shin.

“A little warning would’ve been nice!” He hissed.

“Ouch!” Denki rubbed his shin. “What are you on about?”

“This”, he gestured vaguely through the air, “informant or whatever it is you talked about. He ambushed me in the pantry.”

“Wha—” Denki blinked at him, obviously confused. “Hold on, I haven’t had time yet to talk to anybody!”

“What?” Turning confused himself, Eijirou squinted his eyes. “But they…” he shook his head. “They asked what I wanted from inside the castle and I said, a message and then they were… gone?” Eijirou blinked into his food. The pantry was empty when he entered and still was empty when he left, and there was no other way in or out except from the only door. The color drained from his face.

“I think I talked to a ghost.” He whispered.

Hanta almost spit out his food, coughing violently, getting help from Mina who slapped his back. “Why do you…”, he wheezed, “think that?”

Eijirou summarized what happened to him in the pantry, leaving the table in an eerie silence. "I don’t know guys. That was so weird. I didn’t even get to say what the message was about! What… I don’t know what will happen now! If something will happen.” He groaned, hitting the table with his forehead. Mina winced and patted his shoulder.

“Well, maybe it was some good fairy or something”, she encouraged, “finally letting you realize what you want and help you out.”

“By trapping me in the pantry and ominously whispering in my ear? What a nice fairy.” He didn’t even look up, grumbling against the wood. Mina just patted his back again, ruffling his hair.

“We will figure things out. Cheer up, it’s not very you to mob around like that.”

Eijirou groaned. He knew that already. It wasn’t by choice this was getting to him like this, that wasn’t the plan at all. He just wanted to have a little adventure, a little fancy food and what did he get? Feelings for the prince. Great.

--

“You’re not there for once, and shit happens.” Uraraka shook her head in exasperation. Her brown hair bopped with every step her horse made, straightening her back as it stepped over a tree trunk in their path. “What did you do?”

Bakugou growled, following her with his own horse over the tree trunk. “What the fuck was I supposed to do? Running after him with food all over me and no goddamn idea where he ran?”

“You could have asked the guard at the door.” Midoriya jabbed from the side, finally catching up with the other two. Todoroki still trotted a little back, enjoying the view and apparently not partaking in their conversation. Why the fuck was this half-and-half prince here anyway?

“Yeah, sure, asking the fucking staff what to do. Oh, Your fucking Highness, what a great plan.” Bakugou bit back, only earning a roll with his eyes.

“I was just saying. Not my fault, if you’re were so blind about what to do.” Midoriya spurred on his horse as soon as he was done, already feeling the daggers Bakugou’s eyes were throwing at him. Bakugou hunted him through the high grass with his horse, screaming profanities at him.

After a few minutes, they fell back in step on the path with Uraraka and Todoroki. Bakugou growled at the princess as she opened her mouth. “Think carefully, what you want to say.”

“Stop being so dramatic, Bakugou.” She slapped his shoulder hard. “Will you see him again?”

Bakugou scowled, glaring on the path ahead. “I don’t know.” He quipped. Uraraka hummed in response, bobbing her head back and forth.

“Well, the question is, will he attend the next banquet? If not, there is no chance you will see him again, right?”

“Why not?” Todoroki asked from behind. Apparently, he didn’t pay any attention whatsoever.

“Because”, Bakugou jerked his head around, spatting, “there is no fucking record of the Kirishima family. I have nowhere to send a stupid message.” He turned back around, already seeing the castle walls growing bigger. They had ridden around for a few hours, mostly talking about Kirishima, to Bakugou’s delight and demise. He actually enjoyed talking about the redhead but the way Uraraka analyzed everything they said and did, apparently it was painfully obvious, they were in love. Bakugou had almost laughed out loud. He? In love? With some random noble? What a fucking joke.

They galloped the rest of the way until they reached the massive gate. Some of the servants prepared a little pavilion, accepting the reigns of the horses as they stopped in front of them. Bakugou swung his leg over and swooped to the ground. His thighs were aching pleasantly, stretching his arms high above his head, he sat down on one of the chairs. The other three followed his example.

“You know”, Uraraka sank into her chair, sighing, “you should come to visit me next time. I don’t want to travel all over the country every time.”

“That was your stupid decision, not mine.” Bakugou scoffed. “I didn’t invite you shits. It’s not my problem you collect other trash on your way and bring it to my doorstep.”

“Kacchan!” Midoriya gasped. “At least have some decency to refer to your castle as dumpster so we feel like we belong.”

“The fuck?!” Bakugou growled but before he could continue, a servant brought a tray with teacups, carefully putting them on the round table. Biting his lip, Bakugou eyed the servant. Seemed new. He slowly picked up on the faces of the servants and their individual role, this one, however, didn’t ring a bell. Their hair tousled up in different direction made him look somewhat undignified, even when their eyes locked for a second, they shined indigo in the light. The second passed too fast for Bakugou to really think about it.

“What about ‘King of the trash heap’ as a new title?” Todoroki mumbled more to himself as he drove a finger over the rim of his teacup. Bakugou smashed his fist on the table with force, the cups clanked at the impact.

“I’ll give you fucking trash, you piece of garbage.” He growled at Todoroki who sat in front of him.

“Your insults have been better, you know?” Unfazed, Todoroki shrugged, waiting as his tea was poured. Uraraka and Midoriya snickered behind held up hands.

“Maybe he mellowed out after finding true love.” Uraraka pressed out between her lips before bursting out in laughter, holding onto her cup. Midoriya held in his own laugh for another second but snorted and the damn broke before he followed Uraraka, tears already forming in his eyes.

“Kacchan and… and… love.” He wheezed between gasps. Bakugou hoped for the instant magical power to explode their heads off with his hands to make them shut up and regret they ever lived. The servant leaned down to pour his tea, obscuring the view to his friends and whispered under their laughter so quietly, Bakugou nearly missed it.

“Special delivery for Your Highness.” He tipped against the saucer with his little finger as he set down the cup again, bowed and took his place next to the other two servants standing with one arm angled in front of their chests, the other folded behind there back and eyes fixed forward, always at the read to fulfill any task they were assigned to.

Bakugou took a deep, shallow breath, trying not to show his discomfort. What did that mean? He’d love to just grab his cup and look under it, to see what the servant meant. He was about to just scream at him what arrogation he took to speak to him like that, but something held him back. Maybe curiosity, maybe pride, maybe anticipation. Bakugou didn’t know and he didn’t want to find out with all this audience.

He grimaced, slurping at the scalding hot tea to keep his temper in check. His tongue burnt but he didn’t let it show, just gripped tighter at his teacup. A small smile played on the lips of Todoroki as he observed the other two laughing, keeping each other from calming down by making the other laugh more.

“So”, Uraraka finally huffed out, evening out her breathing and wiping away a tear, “what are you gonna do about it?”

“About what?” Bakugou snapped. Uraraka rolled her eyes, snickering again.

“About this Kirishima guy, obviously, stupid.” She slurped at her tea and hissed. “Ah, hot.” Bakugou grumbled.

“Why the fuck are you so interested in that, angel face?”

“Well, my dear Katsuki, because I want to get to know this man who actually isn’t fed up with you but can stand you and make you feel things.”

“He didn’t do shit”, spatting, Bakugou’s leg bounced up and down. His patience was nearing its end. Midoriya leaned back, hand on his chin and in thoughts, he muttered.

“This man must have nerves made of steel or something. Stonecold, maybe. Probably some kind of preference for being humiliated or pain. Ah, it could be, that he is just entertained by Kacchan and runs away because it gets too mu—” Bakugou threw his cup against Midoriya’s head, spilling his hot tea on him. Midoriya shrieked, holding his slightly reddened face.

“Izuku!” Both Uraraka and Todoriko were on their feet, dabbing at the liquid with their napkins.

“Bakugou!” Uraraka quipped in anger. “That was uncalled for!”

“He is uncalled for. In fact, you all are.” He balled his hand into tight fists and crossed his arms, jerking his head to the side with a menacing grin on his lips. “Why don’t you just fucking leave?”

“Don’t worry”, Midoriya waves at them, rubbing on his face. “It’s not that bad. And Kacchan”, a small smile on his lips and eyebrows furrowed, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean what I said. We will leave you alone.” Pushing the chair back as he stood up, he grabbed Uraraka and Todoroki by the arm. “But don’t even think we’re going to leave. Just calm down and find us whenever you want.”

“So never.” Todoroki mumbled as he stumbled to follow Midoriya. Uraraka said something as well but Bakugou had them already tuned out, not looking back at them. His eyes were fixed on the table and as soon as he heard the horse steps fading away in the distance, he took in a shaky breath.

“Finally.” He exhaled and raised his hand to the saucer he was eyeing the whole time, lifting it up slowly in case the thing was something dangerous. But what dangerous thing could be put under a simple saucer? Apparently, nothing dangerous just a piece of paper folded once in the middle. Squinting his eyes, Bakugou snatched it from under the saucer, let the ceramic fall down with a light clink and unfolded the paper with two fingers.

“Meet me tomorrow at the trees when the sun goes down. – K.”

Bakugou’s eyes widened with every time he read it again and again. Without realizing, his heartbeat increased, and his cheeks reddened ever so slightly. His head whipped around to look for the servant who seemingly brought the message to him but only the other two servants stood at their designated place.

“Where is the other one of you?” He grumbled at them, making them flinch to attention.

“Your Highness?” One of them asked, swallowing as he blinked in confusion.

“You were three”, Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Where is the one who poured me my fucking tea?” The two servants exchanged a glance, the first one getting visibly nervous.

“I—I’m sorry, Your Highness, I don’t know what you mean? There were only us two for you today.” They looked at each other in silent, Bakugou trying to process what being said. How in the world was that possible? He clearly remembered this disheveled servant with the—Bakugou squinted. There was someone else, wasn’t there? Shaking his head, his mind became fuzzy. He clenched around the paper and blinked.

How did he get that piece of paper? Well, it didn’t really matter. Important was that he was going to see Kirishima again, tomorrow. His heart jumped into his throat for a second in excitement but Bakugou pushed it down. They would meet and he could yell at him for ditching him at the banquet in such a humiliating manner. His mother was laughing at him for scaring Kirishima away for hours.

Crumbling the paper in his fist, Bakugou stood up and left with his horse. The servants looked after him for a few seconds and shrugged. It wasn’t their place to judge the sanity of royalty.

Bakugou tried to occupy his mind with sparring matches at first. A few hours of just mindlessly swinging his wooden sword at his guards and their poor attempts to block did the trick and he actually did get the message out of his mind. But as soon as he lay down his sword, wiped away the sweat with his shirt, his thoughts began to wander again. He had more than 24 hours to kill before he could see Kirishima again and tal—yell at him.

After a restless night, filled with too many dreams he couldn’t recollect, Bakugou was rather grateful for the oncoming lesson about cultural awareness. Having his mind off again, was the best choice. Bakugou was by no means someone who would run away from his problems, but he couldn’t stand the fact that he just couldn’t do anything about it. He had to wait until nightfall to confront this problem. Running in circles with his own thoughts would be just a waste of time and he would never waste his time on anything.

So, why spending so much time with Kirishima? Even having thrown another banquet for him to meet? There was an answer at the back of his mind but Bakugou ignored its prodding against his thoughts.

How he managed to get through his lesson, to have lunch and to get through the whole afternoon without driving insane, Bakugou couldn’t say. He was just too relieved to see the sun slowly set, basking the garden in orange light. The tip of his quill tapped on the paper in front of him where he was writing down some notes from today’s tutoring, calming his nerves.

Slowly, Bakugou stood up, put away his writing utensils, took another glance at the mirror to straighten his clothes and slipped out of his room. He didn’t want to run into somebody and either have to make small talk or have to tell them where he was going, so he made a rather big detour, taking all the hallways that are not being used mostly until he reached one of the backdoors through the garden.

This door had been his way out when he was a child and wanted to play outside instead of learning inside, driving his tutors nuts. Bakugou smirked at the memory. Now he used it again in the purpose of getting away without getting noticed, stealthily walking along the wall until he arrived at the end of it where it crossed with the river.

Following the river upstream, he reached a cluster of trees after about 15 minutes of walking. The cluster of trees was where he accidentally ran into Kirishima once and Bakugou hoped, these were the trees Kirishima meant in his message. At least, the view was mostly obscured by the thick undergrowth even from the castle, even more so at night. Bakugou took a deep breath and walked towards them.

The sun has now almost set, just a glimmer of red and purple at the horizon, but when he got closer, Bakugou already saw Kirishima leaning against one of the trees. His red hair flashed through the green leaves, contrasting just right, and framed his face as it was open and not styled in any way. He wore simple clothes, plain dark brown pants hugging his legs tightly and a white shirt, hanging loosely from his shoulders. Kirishima was biting his lips, almost looking bored, but his fidgeting fingers at his sleeves indicated nervousness.  

As Bakugou saw him, he had to stop for just a moment. It just, it was perfect. All the pent-up anger vanished and he felt nothing but relief to finally see Kirishima again. He must have rustled at the grass or Kirishima could hear his screaming mind, as he jerked his head at his general direction and when their eyes met, a warm smile spread on his lips. Pushing himself up from the tree, Kirishima tilted his head and waved him towards him.

Bakugou scowled, not used to be summoned, rather the opposite, but walked over, nonetheless. Kirishima made some steps backward, so when Bakugou caught up, they stood in between the trees, not visible to anyone around them.

“What do you want?” Bakugou crossed his arms, trying to put enough heat into his words to not sound all too happy to see him. Kirishima hummed, both hands on his hips.

“I thought I take you up on your offer?”

“My what now?” Bakugou huffed earning a light chuckle from Kirishima that resonated warmly inside his chest.

“Your offer, Your Highness, did you already forget?” A sheepish smile sneaked on to his smile. “About dancing.” He almost whispered. Bakugou’s cheeks flushed up, turning his head away to hide them, pushing his lips into a scowl.

“That’s what this is about?” He grumbled but already stepping closer. Kirishima pursed his lips to suppress his smile.

“As well.” He shrugged.

“What do you know about dancing?” He groaned, finally admitting defeat that he was no match for Kirishima and be swept away in his pace.

“Well, you need two people.” Kirishima tilted his head in thoughts, humming. “Actually, you need music, right?”

“Little late for that, huh?” Bakugou smirked and took another step forward to stay right in front of Kirishima who looked at him with big eyes. A little late, Bakugou noticed a small scar on his right eye. He needed to ask him about that sometime. But for now, he put it into the back of his mind.

His hand reached out to connect with Kirishima's forearm. Kirishima didn’t flinch, just kept his eyes on Bakugou’s face, roaming all over it but not meeting his gaze. Bakugou let his hand slid down until their fingers brushed against each other, slowly lifting them up and holding Kirishima’s hand in his own, a little loose but firm enough that it wouldn’t slip away. His other hand encircled Kirishima’s waist, planting the palm of his hand on the small back of Kirishima. For now, letting some space left between them.

Bakugou could feel his heartbeat pulsing in his chest, vibrating through his whole body and tingling in his ears. His face probably was at least at flushed as Kirishima’s, who sheepishly grinned at him, trying to follow his gestures.

“Where do I…?” Kirishima held up his other hand, hovering in front of Bakugou’ chest.

“My shoulder.” Bakugou scoffed. Kirishima nodded, finally putting his hand on its designated place. Bakugou could feel the tenseness in Kirishima as he slightly squeezed his shoulder. In response, Bakugou tightened his grip, trying to reassure the redhead.

“Put your left foot back.” Only grumbling, Bakugou stepped with his right foot ahead and with his arms pushed Kirishima backward. As Kirishima stumbled by the sudden movement, Bakugou held him up firmly with his arms, growling.

“Pay attention.”

“Y-yes, Your Highness.” Kirishima stuttered, lowering his gaze to watch their feet move. Bakugou repeated the same step and Kirishima followed him this time.

“If we’re doing this, you can call me by my name.” His voice sounded almost vulnerable even to him, which he didn’t like at all, but this was Kirishima. That was okay. Their eyes met again, Kirishima blinking at him with wide eyes, stopping his movements.

“Ba-Bakugou?” He swallowed and Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Or Katsuki?” It was only a whisper, but he felt his blood freeze for a second to burst past the boiling point within a second. His ears flamed up, his eyes widened, and he had to take in a sharp inhale.

“You can call me by my first name, as well.” Kirishima wore a bright grin on his face, cheeks flush. His hand trembled ever so slightly and Bakugou squeezed it.

“Eijirou.” The name rolled from his lips like molten butter, soft and warm. Similar to him, Kiri- Eijirou’s eyes widened. His smile grew a little smaller, less confident but, oh, so warm and full of affection. They stared at each other for another few seconds, before Bakugou slowly began pushing Eijirou back again, falling in back with their steps again.

Kirishima’s eyes lowered again to follow the steps, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and nibbling at his lower lip. For some reason, Bakugou found it endearing. He enjoyed watching Eijirou being so earnest.

“You have to look your partner in the eyes, y'know, dumbass?” Bakugou huffed, prompting Eijirou’s eyes to snap up.

“Well, yeah, but then I don’t… I can’t follow.” His lips were a mixture between an apologetic grin and a pout.

“Just follow my lead.” With a little more force, Bakugou pulled Eijirou toward him, pressing them flush together. Their faces were mere centimeters away, Bakugou could feel his breath tingling on his lips. Eijirou’s hand on his shoulder tightened its grip, grabbing at his shirt. He wasn’t entirely sure, if it was his own heart or Eijirou’s that was hammering in his chest, he just felt its vibration coursing through his body and enjoyed the adrenaline.

With their eyes fixed towards each other, Bakugou continued to push Eijirou back and then sideways, turning them around with the next step. Eijirou still stumbled but Bakugou’s grip was too tight to make it matter. He held him firmly against his chest, his other hand’s grip was rather loose, almost careful. There was no music, the ground was uneven and they had to adjust to the branches hanging low in their way, but to Bakugou it was perfect.

“Katsuki”, Eijirou breathed against his lips, his eyes a little hooded, making Bakugou’s cheeks flush again. How can one word, his name nonetheless, have such power over him? “You’re so beautiful.”

Bakugou didn’t think. Whatever it was, his brain wanted to say in response, whatever his mind told him to do, he didn’t listen. His body moved on his own, but he wasn’t the only one who moved. Their lips met right in the middle, Bakugou didn’t have to lean in all that much. Eijirou’s lips were so unbelievable soft, gently pushed against his own.

Bakugou stopped moving them, but pulled Eijirou impossible close, clenching his hand around the fabric at Eijirou’s back. His hands were still held tightly together, resting at their sides, while Eijirou’s other hand traveled from Bakugou’s shoulder over to his neck, playing with his short hair.

Inhaling a little sharp, Bakugou parted his lips unconsciously. Eijirou took this as an invitation to push his tongue between his lips, licking inside over his own tongue. Responding to that, Bakugou pressed their lips together a little tighter making their teeth clink against each other. His tongue darted forward, grazing over Eijirou’s tongue and teeth and sucked on his lower lip, earning a small whimper.

Eijirou’s hand moved up into his hair, grabbing at it forcefully, eliciting a grunt from Bakugou. It occurred to him, he liked being a little manhandled himself. Still, not wanting to give in, he bit down on Eijirou’s lip, sucked again and pushed his tongue now into Eijirou’s mouth after he gasped in excitement.

They fought some more with their tongues, teased each other with sometimes rough bites and pulls until they slowed down. Their lips were parted, Eijrou’s upper lip between his own, as he took in a trembling breath.

The next second, he tasted something salty on his lips, a different wetness on Eijirou’s with saliva glistening mouth. He slowly pulled back, swallowing as he saw Eijirou’s eyes filled with tears. Furrowing his brows, he slowly let go of Eijirou’s hand and back, cradling his face in them to wipe his tears away with his thumbs.

“What’s wrong, Eijirou?” He whispered with a ragged voice, heart beating in his throat. Eijirou let out a stifled whimper, looking him into eyes.

“I…”, a small hiccup formed in the back of his throat. “I can’t.” His lips quivered, new tears spilled over and something in Bakugou froze.

“What do you mean?” Having not much control over his voice, it sounded harsher than intended. Eijirou closed his eyes for a second, a deep crease between his eyebrows. His face was contorted in pain, but his hands grabbed at him so eagerly, one hand still in his hair, the other on his waist grasping at his shirt as if he thought Bakugou would vanish any moment.

“We can’t meet again.” Eijirou pressed out between tight lips, followed by a small sob. Bakugou’s hands slowly let go of his face, tightening at his shoulders.

“What the fuck do you mean by that?” He growled, now louder. His heart was still beating hard but not with excitement and affection anymore but hurt and confusion. They had just shared the most passionate kiss he ever had in his life, their affection for each other almost palpable.

Eijirou inhaled a trembling breath, meeting his gaze directly as he exhaled. “We can’t see each other again. I can’t… I can’t say why, I’m sorry, Katsuki.”

Bakugou let go of Eijirou’s shoulder for good, taking a step back and shaking his head. “What the fuck, Eijirou? What in the ever loving fuck?” His voice increased in volume until he was almost shouting. “You come here to do this… pulling this fucking stunt, kissing me and then telling me, you fucking can’t?”

Eijirou winced at every second word, pulling his shoulders up to duck his head. “I… I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t… I just wanted to tell you that and then…” His voice broke, another sob stifled behind tight lips. It broke Bakugou’s heart all over again and he wanted nothing more to hold Eijirou close to him again, sooth his pain away, but he refused. It fucking hurt.

“You can’t do that!” He screamed, balling his hands into fists. “What the fuck is going on?” This was not how he imagined this evening to play out. Sure, he expected shouting and yelling from his side but just to tease Eijirou a little and then they would be back at their usual banter. Not… not this!

“I’m sorry. I… I don’t want to make any excuses, I just want you to know that I li—“, he snapped his mouth shut. “And that I can’t meet you again. Ever.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why. Not.” Bakugou’s voice trembled in anger, he was seething at this point. “Was this just some play for you?”

“No! Katsuki, please, no.” Eijirou shook his head, his hair flying around his face. “I would never… I didn’t think this would happen.”

“Yeah, well, fucking surprise. It did happen. And now you just wanna run?” Bakugou snapped. “Fine!” He shouted again. “Fine, Eijirou”, he drew the name out in a snarl, “just leave. Like you always did. I don’t care. I don’t fucking care.”

Eijirou’s eyes widened, staring at Bakugou who in return just glared. He crossed his arms, holding his chin up and fixed him with a challenging look. With a slow exhale, Eijirou took the first step. And the second. He walked passed Bakugou, who was struck with astonishment. Actually, he didn’t believe Eijirou would leave, it was a bluff.

He wanted to turn around, to yell after him to come back, but he stared ahead into the darkness that was heavy on his shoulders and around him. His hands tightened their grip on his biceps, probably leaving bruises but he didn’t care. He didn’t. care.

If it were a few minutes or an hour, Bakugou didn’t know how long he stood rooted on the spot. He waited for Eijirou’s footsteps to fade out into the darkness and then waited. And waited. For something, for nothing, for anything, he didn’t know. When the moon shined high and the cold wind picked up to blow around him, he finally turned around and walked back to the castle.

The way back, his return to his room, how he changed and went to bed, it was all in a daze, he couldn’t remember any of it. His mind was filled with the evening, bouncing back between the most amazing kiss and the utter heartbreak that followed. Sleeping was a hassle, he tossed around from one nightmare to another, each involving Eijirou.

When he awoke the next morning, he felt like a mess. Completely unrested, head still not being able to wrap around what happened and just pure anger bubbling inside his chest. What did Eijirou think he was allowed to just do that? Just playing buddies with the prince and kissing him? Did he just fool around?

Breakfast was served at his bedside and he even ignored his servants, not wanting to deal with anyone for the time being. This day would need enough of his energy already, at least he could keep his anger in check for a few more minutes. Chewing on his bread took an extra 5 minutes just for him to not choke on it, drinking his water in one gulp, then he finally got up. With the help of some maids, he got dressed and deemed himself presentable.

The morning was spent with his tutor, fortunately, since it kept his mind occupied with stupid interferences between borders and the upcoming issues of finances in these regions. Pushing all his worries and, ugh, feelings aside, making himself numb, Bakugou dragged himself to lunch where was greeted by his friends already sitting at the table. He completely forgot they were still here.

For a second, he considered running away a valid option, before he snapped back to himself. Bakugou Katsuki never ran away. Without a word he took his place at the head of the table since his mother wasn’t present, growling at his plate.

Ignoring his friends, for now, they probably sensed his foul mood being worse than usual, leaving him alone, as the soup was served. Inwardly rolling his eyes, he grabbed for his spoon, not expecting much of the soup as usual, but was surprised, nonetheless. The soup was clearer than usual, some bits and pieces of pasta and chicken, garnished with a little bit of vegetable.

Amazed by the rich flavor despite the almost clear liquid he turned to face one of the servants.

“What is this?” His voice was grating like gravel, not being used that much today.

The servant bowed slightly as they answered. “Chicken soup, Your Highness.” Nodding, Bakugou continued slurping his chicken soup. It was new, something he hadn’t tried before and decided it was a good addition to the menu. Even the fish course was more exciting than usual. A different fish, maybe imported, was backed in a heavy crust, a white creamy sauce on the side. He almost dared to hum around the taste in his mouth.

“Why change the fucking menu?” He almost barked at the servant who broke a little sweat. Another bow as they answered.

“We received some recommendations, Your Highness.” Biting their lips, they continued. “Is it not to your liking?” Bakugou huffed, shaking his head.

“Nah, it’s… whatever.” He turned back to his food, finishing it with gusto. When the meat course was brought out, Bakugou finally looked up to face his friends, feeling refreshed and energized enough to deal with them. They were having a light conversation over the meal, discussing the internal affairs of their own kingdoms, exchanging pieces of advice.

Bakugou was about to say something when Midoriya’s shirt caught his attention. His eyes practically zoomed in on it. He knew that shirt.

“Where did you get that?” His voice was barely more than a whisper but filled with rage, their heads whipped around. Midoriya blinked in confusion as he felt his glaring eyes on him.

“What are you talking about, Kacchan?”

“Your fucking shirt, where did you get that goddamn shirt?” The grip on his fork tightened, almost bending the metal. Midoriya looked down at his white shirt with golden decoration and embroidery, a high collar adorning the Bakugou’s family crest. It wasn’t too detailed but royally all enough.

“Uh”, he cleared his throat, “my own clothes were soaked if you remember. And I was given this by your maids. It is a spare shirt for guests, I guess?” Midoriya shrugged. “If that’s a problem I can return it, my own shirt should be clean and dry again by now.”

Bakugou didn’t listen anymore as his gaze drifted into the distance. His mind worked in overdrive, connecting the dots he was too blind to see until now. All the little hints he chose to ignore. The nervousness around other nobles, the lack of knowledge about proper etiquette and speech, the lacking attire, his overall being. He wasn’t a fucking noble at all.

Bakugou was seething. He was a fucking idiot.

--

At first, he just had put one foot in front of the other, Katsuki’s words still ringing in his ears, but then he got faster and faster. Running through the high grass, tears stinging in his eyes he refused to spill. It wasn’t his place to cry, he didn’t deserve that. It was his fault everything went out of control in the first place.

Clenching his jaw, Eijirou suppressed a scream from deep within, stumbling over the plastered path back to the east wing. Panting heavy, he walked down the hallway, one hand on the wall for support, he didn’t trust his legs to hold him up any longer. His thoughts were muddled, no sane thought formed when he stood in front of the kitchen.

Eijirou pushed the door open, greeted by darkness the same as in the hallway. His heart was beating high in his throat as his breathing slowly calmed down. Wandering with his eyes through the room, Eijirou entered without really knowing why. He should return to his sleeping chamber. He should talk to his friends. He should somehow forget about this utter disaster he caused.

“Didn’t go as planned, huh?”

Startled by the smooth voice, Eijirou flinched, eyes darting through the room. “Wh-what?” His voice broke halfway, still struggling with air.

“I thought I gave you the perfect opportunity and you ruined it.” The voice continued from another place to his right.

“I…” Eijirou swallowed. He remembered the voice from before when he was in the pantry. “Who are you?”

“Is that really important?” The voice sighed a tad annoyed. “Why didn’t you come clean right away and have your happy ever after?”

“My what now?” Eijirou could have laughed at the absurdity. “He’s the fucking prince if you didn’t know?”

“And?” The voice flew through the room. Eijirou tried to make out something in the kitchen but there was no movement at all.

“And I’m a servant. Last time I checked, that wasn’t, well, ideal.” Regaining his composure, Eijirou rested his hands on his hips, furrowing his eyebrows. “And it is rather important”, he sing-songed into the room, “to know who you are. Since, I don’t know, you seem to be quite involved in this-“, a vague gesture, “thing and I want to know who does what with this, you know, peculiar situation.” Eijirou was met with silence and he was afraid whoever or whatever, he wasn’t so sure at this point anymore, had already left.

Then he saw some movement in the corner of his left eye and he jerked his head around. A person, human alright, leaned against the kitchen counter, arms folded loosely over their chest. Their hair was wavy and stood up in different directions, their eyes glistening teal-colored even in the darkness. Gulping, Eijirou turned towards the newcomer.

“I wanted to give you a chance.”

“A chance at what?”

“Love.” The person rolled his eyes unnecessary excessively. If a question mark had a visual expression, Eijirou mimicked it flawlessly.

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.” Eijirou shook his head, holding one hand up. “Can you start from the beginning, please?”

It looked like the person was about to give up but took a deep breath in and rolled their head around. “I gave you something you could use for your benefit to find your true love and all that. But you fucked up, big time.” They shrugged.

“I… I don’t know what to tell you.” Eijirou huffed. “I—What was I supposed to do, then? Confess my undying love for him, falling into each other’s arms?” This situation was ridiculous, Eijirou was sure, he would wake up any moment or talk to thin air because he was going insane. He hunched his shoulders, shaking his head at himself, at the situation, at everything.

“Yes.”

Snapping back to the present, Eijirou took a step back. “What?”

“You heard me, Eijirou”, their voice grew deeper. “I wanted you to confess but you stopped, breaking the spell.”

“Spell?” Eijirou mumbled, taken aback. The person huffed, driving one hand through their hair.

“Listen”, they grumbled, “I’ll give you one last chance. You won’t have the thing anymore, so you have to meet you Prince Charming as who you are. No take backs. Just, man, be honest and see what happens.”

Eijirou wanted to laugh, to tell him that it would be all futile but the next second, the person was gone. He was facing thin air in a dark kitchen. Blinking a few times, then rubbing at his eyes, Eijirou turned around himself but nothing changed. He was alone.

With too many things that had happened in the past few hours, Eijirou finally returned to his sleeping chamber, relieved to find his friends past out on the floor. A small smile formed on his lips as he took their blankets and covered them with it. He took his own blanket and rolled up between Mina and Denki, his head resting on Hanta’s stomach. It took him some time, but eventually, he drove off to sleep.

The next morning was hectic in person. They all slept in and were woken by another maid, storming through the door and yelling them awake. His friends wanted to ask him about yesterday evening, Eijirou could see it in their eyes, but there was no time and so he gave them an apologetic shrug. He didn’t want to talk about it anyway.

The morning was filled with their daily tasks, a little mixed up since the kitchen took his advice to heart and switched gears in the kitchen, trying out new recipes and the servants had to run back to the kitchen every once in a while, to taste the new food. Not that anyone complained, eating gourmet food wasn’t something they did often, so everyone tried to get as many bites as they could get. Eijirou being one of them of course.

When they finished their tasks, lunch was prepared and served already, Eijirou had some time to breathe. He walked down the hallway towards his sleeping chambers, wanting to use their break to finally catch up with his friends. They probably thought the same and approached him from the direction of their rooms.

“Eiji—”

A door was opened by a loud crash, so everyone in the hallway jerked around towards the sound. The kitchen door stood wide open, in the doorway seething, grumbling the prince. Eijirou’s blood froze inside his veins, all color drained from his face, rooted to the ground he could just watch as Katsuki’s head snapped around, glaring at everyone around him.

After a few seconds, the servants snatched back to attention, bowing and doing their curtseys, it was too surprising to have the prince in the east wing, the servants wing. Katsuki stomped down the hallway, tearing open every door and growled inside. Before Eijirou could even form the sane thought of either fleeing or confronting Katsuki, their eyes locked.

Katsuki paused every movement, eyes fixed on Eijirou, squinting them a little. His eyes darted upwards to his black hair pulled back, then snapped back on his face and his pupils lightened up with recognition.

“You.” His voice boomed through the hallway, his legs making wide steps towards Eijirou. Swearing he was on the edge of a heart attack, Eijirou could do nothing as Katsuki walked up right in front of him and grab him by his collar. His knuckles turned white at his grasp, smashing Eijirou against the wall, pushing his face so close, their noses were almost touching.

“You little fucker.” He growled. “Did you have fun? Was it fun for you to play this game? Huh?” His voice grew louder by the second, screaming in Eijirou’s face. “Who was on it? Everyone? Playing this fucking game. What the fuck, Eijirou”, he spat his name out like a curse. Only stabbing him right in the gut would be more painful. “What the fuck were you thinking pretending to be a fucking noble, you fucking dickhead? Was it a bet? Or just your fucking stupid brain telling you, you had it in you?”

“Katsuki…” Eijirou could only whimper, holding onto Katsuki’s arm as support, not trusting his legs which felt lifeless. However, Katsuki let go of him, almost throwing him to the ground.

“That’s still ‘Your Highness’ for you, servant.” His voice pierced through every layer he had mustered to build up, wounding him deep in his heart.

“Yes, Your Highness. Please, forgive me, Your Highness.” Eijirou leaned forward, forehead touching the ground. It was silent for a second, he could only hear his own heart beating, the blood rushing in his ears.

“Never”, Bakugou rasped with impossible menace, “ever, show your face in front of me again.”

Eijirou inhaled sharply, gritting his teeth as tears shot into his eyes. The prince’s feet turned away, slowly walking away. His footsteps echoed through the silent hallway until they faded away, leaving a heavy atmosphere. And Eijirou broke.

Tears spilled from his eyes, a grating sob left his throat, a muffled scream into his arms filled the hallway. He felt dimly the hands and arms of his friends around him, but he didn’t really register anything around him. His chest froze unbelievable cold, tightened around his heart, he had to grip at his shirt and trying to heave in another breath. It didn’t work.

Another sob left him, hiccupping through his tears, Eijirou gasped for air. Distantly he heard Denki telling him something, but he couldn’t think, couldn’t see, couldn’t hear. The prince had found out and he couldn't even explain himself. Death would be a valid outcome now.

“Eijirou!” Mina shrieked, slapping his cheeks. It burnt. “Breathe, you fucking idiot!”

Stunned into silence, Eijirou’s eyes slowly wandered towards Mina’s tear-drenched face, sobbing again. But he could breathe. One trembling breath, another one and he buried his face into her shoulder, pressing his head against her.

Somewhen, they had dragged him into their room, away from all the prying eyes and tucked him into bed, where he fell asleep. Exhausted from crying, from the emotional state he was in, he still hiccupped in his sleep, but it was better than being awake.

--

Bakugou was mad. Furious. Eijirou, this servant, had thought deadly serious he could deceive him, the fucking prince, and get away with it? Sure. Bakugou scoffed as he trod back to the main part of the castle. Well, he wouldn’t punish Eijirou right away, Bakugou thought. Just not yet. He didn’t want to think about him for now.

With fast steps, he walked up to the training area, ripped his vest open to throw it at the next best servant, grabbed one of the swords and just took on the first opponent he could find. It wasn’t long that the guards who were taking their training sessions caught on that the prince was in a very bad mood. They tried to avoid him but to no avail, Bakugou took on everyone at least once.

In the end, he was the one who was dripping in sweat, heaving because he used up all his energy. Usually, he wouldn’t have fought this recklessly, but this was what he had needed. Senseless fighting and adrenaline pushing him to his limits so he could just fall dead tired into bed. His hands were trembling as he grabbed his vest, he had to walk slowly back to his room so he wouldn’t fall over by his jittering thighs. Well, it was a good training session. He hadn’t thought about Eijirou for a few hours.

After entering his room, a few maids ushered in as well, already preparing his bath. They helped him out of his clothes, folding them neatly even though they would just be thrown into the basket with the other dirty laundry.

Bakugou leaned his head back in the tub, arms leaning over the bathtub edge, and exhaled. He just wanted to forget today, just for a little bit.

“Do you want me to wash your hair?” One of the maids asked. She was one of the more daring one’s Bakugou had learned over the past few weeks. It seemed, she had respect for him, of course, but she still knew when his explosive behavior was appropriate and when it was just downright rotten character.

“Whatever.” He scoffed and closed his eyes. Just a moment later, he felt her hands against his head, shielding his face as she poured water over his hair to wet it. She applied some shampoo in his hair and started massaging his scalp, rubbing it with just the right amount of strength.

“May I ask you a question, Your Highness?” Her voice was earnest and as Bakugou opened his eyes she looked him straight into the eyes. He squinted at her.

“Don’t expect a fucking answer.” His eyes wandered back to the other maids who stood at ease next to the tub, exchanging a nervous glance he didn’t miss.

“Why was it so bad for Eijirou to impersonate a noble?”

Her voice felt like a knife stabbed into his chest, making him inhale sharply and his eyes shot daggers at her.

“Why? Why the fuck not?” Already shouting, he sat up. “He fucking thought it would be fun to play with me, the fucking prince?! How stupid can someone be?”

Her head tilted to the side, one finger against her cheek. “Did it look like he made fun of you, Your Highness?”

Bakugou’s head snapped around, shampoo slowly dripping down his face. “I can fucking imagine how he badmouthed me behind my back by all of you.” His arm shot from the water as he made a wide gesture towards the maids. “He probably talked his fucking mouth off, couldn’t shut up for a second, this fucking dumbass.”

“Do you really think that about Eijirou, Your Highness?” She stood back up, taking the bucket into one hand and filled it with water.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He scoffed.

“Because to me, it looked like you were both in pain.” With nonchalance, she dumped the bucket over his head to wash out the shampoo. Bakugou grunted, squinted his eyes shut as the shampoo ran over his face. Eijirou’s face appeared in front of him, tears threatening to spill. He shook his head.

“He fucking lied to me the whole time. Could have told me sooner if he was so damn serious.”

She shrugged noncommittally. “If your reaction would be like that, I wouldn’t have told you anything, as well. And for the lying part”, she put the bucket back down, grabbing for one of the towels laying on the drawer, “if Eijirou had ever lied to you, you would have known. He is the worst liar if you have ever seen one.”

Bakugou stood up and let her put the towel around his waist, glaring at her hands. His mind played all their conversations back, which were indeed not a lot but Eijirou had talked a lot. But he had to admit, whenever it was about his upbringing, his provenance or his general being as a noble he either avoided the question or talked to someone else about it. Never to him.

His face must have shown something, as the maid took another towel and dried off his hair. “Eijirou is a good man. Always the first to help, listening even though it’s not his forte, putting everything and everyone before himself. It must have probably eaten him alive to not tell you.”

Bakugou grunted, pulling the towel from her hands and rubbing his hair dry himself. “Get out, all of you.” His voice didn’t permit any protest and the maids all made a quick courtesy before leaving his room.

“You”, Bakugou called after the maids, hoping the right one would understand. She apparently did, as she stilled in the doorway, head slightly bowed.

“What’s your damn name?”

“Tsuyu, Your Highness.”

Bakugou scoffed and waved her away. She stepped outside, closing the door behind her and leaving Bakugou alone in his room with his thoughts.

--

Waking up the next morning proofed to be torture. His mouth was dry, his eyes burnt and his head felt like it would split into two. But fortunately, Eijirou had the best friends someone could wish for, so when he sat up, groaning through a hoarse throat, he found a glass of water and little bit of bread and cheese next to his bed. His eyes would have teared up again if he didn’t feel completely dried out.

It took him about 10 minutes to feel human again. Eating and drinking to calm down his stomach and giving himself some energy, washing his face in the small bucket and getting dressed in clean clothes did the trick.

When he grabbed under the bed to retrieve the small pot, his hand grasped at empty air. “Huh?” Eijirou kneeled down to look under his bed but only saw the thin sheet of dust and his other belongings. For a second, his mind went into panic. Where did it go? As he sprung to his feet, he froze, staring at nothing. Did it really matter? He shrugged at himself. It wouldn’t be used anymore, anyway, it was better that it was gone.

Eijirou used this day to distract him from any intrusive thoughts that were scratching at the back of his mind. His friends and the other servants probably got the hint and tried their best to accommodate, giving him tasks to busy himself or roping him up in mindless chats to make him laugh.

It was hard at first, feeling like he deserved to feel devastated, yet, over time, Eijirou felt like himself again. When he was peeling potatoes, carrots and other vegetables or when he helped with the laundry or when he was swinging their little feather dusters, his lips spread into grins more and more often and after a while, heartful laughter rang through the hallway again.

After four days, Eijirou made the decision to not talk about what transpired ever again. Maybe, in a few years. But not anytime soon. It had been a stupid, stupid idea to begin with, it backfired immensely, he even got the prince involved and hurt. Well, he guessed at least. Probably just ensued more rage into the already hotblooded prince.

After a week, he felt like he was doing well. This would work. Sitting at a low wooden stool in the afternoon sun outside. The east wing was allowed to have an open space to relax and the servants used it often enough to get mindless work done there. Eijirou’s fingers were decorated by multiple band-aids already, a few more stuffed in his pockets waiting to be used for the next prick in his fingers.

“What do you think truffles taste like?” Hanta broke their comfortable silence, eyes fixed on the pair of pants pulled up to his face. The seam had opened at the side and it was tedious work to sew it back together strong enough to hold.

Eijirou was mending a few holes in a gardener’s shirt who fell into a patch of roses and ripped his clothes at their thorns, well, and his skin as well. “Like mushrooms maybe?” His tongue poked between his lips as he stitched the needle through the fabric without pricking his finger.

“But, like, a smooth mushroom? Or like a potato?”

“Since when do mushrooms like potatoes?”

“I don’t know, maybe truffles do.”

Eijirou hummed, blinking into the sun as he mulled over. “Depends on the texture, I guess? Truffles look like they are pretty dense.”

“That what I was thinking!” Hanta exclaimed, nodding vigorously. “And when you cook ‘em, they get all mushy like potatoes!”

“But potatoes only get mushy if you cook them for too long.” Eijirou retorted, shaking his head grinning. “You need to eat them when they’re still a little tender.”

“But mushy potatoes are better! Like, mashed potatoes, that’s the shit.”

Eijirou’s grin contorted as laughter bubbled from his lips. His hands tightened, as his body was shaken by it and the needle found the sensitive skin on his index finger, right under the band-aid. Eijirou hissed, still giggling as he put the finger in his mouth.

“That’s the sixth time!” Mumbling around his finger, Eijirou tried to fish out another band-aid as the door to their garden space was pushed open, the door creaking in its hinges as it slammed against the wall.

“Eijirou!”

Both Hanta and Eijirou snapped around, eyes alerted. The other servant, Mashirao if Eijirou remembered correctly, stood in the doorway, catching his breath. His eyes darted a little erratic from Eijirou to Hanta and back.

“What is it?” His fingers found the band-aid and deftly put it around his slowly blood oozing wound. It was a habit that, when he pricked himself, it wasn’t just a nick or something, no, he always put so much force behind each stitch he smashed the head of the needle through his skin with force.

“The Prince”, Mashirao huffed, getting attention immediately, “he asks for you.”

Eijirou’s whole being froze, eyes growing wide. The shirt slipped from his hands to the ground with a quiet thud, his hands every so slightly trembled as his eyes shot towards Hanta who looked at him with as wide eyes as him.

“What?” Just above being breathy, he gasped. “What does … the prince”, he had to swallow thickly around the words, “want from me?”

“I don’t know”, Mashirao shook his head, “he just said you should meet him ‘there’” Holding his hands up, he motioned quotation marks with a shrug. “Whatever that means.” Eijirou almost stumbled onto his feet, catching himself with a wide step and coughed.

“I… I need to go, then.” His thoughts were working in overdrive without forming one sane idea of what could be happening, now. “There” had to be, well, there and that meant, no one would be able to see them whatever the prince planned on doing. Maybe he wanted to scream at him once more, by any chance killing him in effect and didn’t want anyone to see. There were too many possibilities running through his head that he didn’t even say goodbye to Hanta and Mashirao who watched him running along.

His feet dragged him outside the castle walls faster than they ever did, over the cobbled pathway along the river until he saw the cluster of trees. “There” had to be here, he couldn’t think of anywhere else. Eijirou slowed down, jogging the rest of the way up to the river, eyes straining to see anyone, someone.

The blonde hair was noticeable through the leaves as sunlight illuminated them, making Eijirou’s heart throb. Another step and he circled the nearest tree, not trying to hide his arrival at all, rustling through the branches and grass. As he entered the small clearing, his eyes locked with the prince.

He immediately averted them to the ground, bowing slightly. “Your Highness.” His breath was still uneven, making his voice waver through trembled inhales. There was no answer, no acknowledgment of him, so his hands were fidgeting at his side, but he refused to look up. Not without permission. He already had fucked up too much, it was a miracle he was still alive.

“Just”, the prince groaned, “fucking get up.”

Closing his eyes for a second and taking a small breath, Eijirou stood back up straight, finally looking at the prince properly. He leaned against one of the trees, arms crossed tightly across his chest. His clothes were as fancy as ever, his hair still stuck out in every direction undeliberatlye. Eijirou’s heart did another high jump into his throat, mesmerized by the view.

One of the prince’s hands reached behind him, pulling two wooden swords up and he threw one of them at Eijirou. Once again, Eijirou fumbled at the catch but didn’t drop the sword. Confusion unfolded on his face, eyes twitching.

“Your Highness?”

“Fucki—” The prince scoffed. “I have a name, dumbass.” Without waiting for any reaction, Katsuki surged at him and only thanks to his impeccable reflex, Eijirou could parry the swing of the sword. Their swords slammed against each other, vibrating through his own grip.

Swallowing down his thousand and one questions that were at the tip of his tongue, Eijirou tightened his face, pressing against Katsuki’s sword. Earning a small smirk motivated Eijirou to fight fiercer. Pushing his feet deeper into the ground, he found his footing and pushed Katsuki back.

Eijirou saw him clenching his jaw as he tried to push against it himself, knuckles turning white at his grip. He huffed, took a step to the side and Eijirou stumbled only slightly, already expecting the move and swung his sword to the side.

Katsuki put his sword up, supported it with his other forearm to balance out the force of Eijirou’s swing.

“Explain yourself.” Katsuki gritted through his teeth as he took another step in, turning around himself to attack Eijirou from the other side. With a small yelp, Eijirou caught the movement, pulling his torso back to avoid the swing. His thoughts were racing as he held his sword above his head and slammed it down at Katsuki.

“I found magic hair dye in my room.” Their sword clashed above Katsuki’s head who gave him an incredulous look but didn’t say anything.

“We just-“, Eijirou was pushed back, “I accidentally took one of the royal garments with me on another occasion.” His face flushed by embarrassing himself. Katsuki’s sword flew towards his legs and Eijirou jumped to the side, preparing for his next assault.

“We came up with this stupid idea to impersonate a noble on the spot. It should have been for just an hour or something.” Eijirou sprung forward, lashing out against the other who parried every blow.

“But then you talked to me”, his voice broke just a little, “and you found me at the river.” Katsuki pierced his sword forward as Eijirou stroke out for another swing, gracing his side. Eijirou hissed and took a couple of steps back.

“And I couldn’t”, his eyes found Katsuki’s glare, “I couldn’t stop seeing you.”

There was a short hesitation, but Katsuki jumped forward, kicking against Eijirou’s ankle and slamming the hilt of his sword against his chest. Eijirou grunted painfully, falling backward. But the fall didn’t come. Katsuki grabbed at his shirt before he met the ground, hovering a few centimeters above it.

They were both panting, Katsuki’s eyes darted back and forth between Eijirou’s eyes, searching for something.

“Your Hi- Katsuki,” Eijirou whispered, “I like you. I like you so much, I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Katsuki’s eyes soften ever so lightly, his grip tightened and pulled Eijirou up to him, crashing his lips onto his mouth. Eijirou grunted quietly by the force but tilted his head for a better angle. His hands shot up and grabbed at Katsuki’s collar, pulling himself impossible closer. He felt himself being lowered, first his back than his head touching the ground and Katsuki leaning closer against him. Their lips were pressed against each other, not only in passion but in pure affection. Eijirou’s breath trembled through his nose as he felt tears forming in his eyes.

Katsuki slowly pulled back, giving in for another quick, chaste kiss, until they looked each other in the eyes again. Eijirou swallowed, licking his lips unconsciously but enjoyed how Katsuki’s eyes jumped down for a second. Their cheeks were both flushed and Katsuki huffed.

“You fuckin—” he mumbled, as a gust of wind blew through the clearing, whirling up some leaves. Eijirou squinted his eyes, holding up one hand to shield his face. Then he looked up at Katsuki again, seeing his eyes widen by the second, eyebrows furrowing.

“Your hair…” Katsuki reached forward, gliding his fingers through his hair and pulled one strand up. Eijirou looked at it from the corner of his eyes, mimicking Katsuki’s widened eyes. His hair was red again.

“What…?” Grabbing at his own hair, Eijirou pulled a bunch of it in front of his face. He saw some of the tips were still black but slowly turning red from the roots up. Not knowing what else to do, Eijirou laughed. It was a slight chuckle at first but grew louder and bigger. Pushing one hand against his forehead and draping one arm over his midriff, he laughed with his whole body.

“You’re going fucking nuts?” Katsuki huffed, plopping down next to him with one leg angled up. Eijirou took a few deep breaths, calming himself down. One tear dripped from his eye and he felt Katsuki whipping it away. Batting his eyes once, he turned his head and looked up at Katsuki.

“I like you.” His lips spread into a wide smile as he saw Katsuki’s cheeks slowly turning pink.

“You already said that.” Katsuki looked away, one hand pulling at the grass. Folding his arms behind his head, Eijirou kept his eyes on Katsuki, enjoying how flustered he got by the second.

“I fucking like you, too, goddamnit.” He growled, making Eijirou grin even wider. Still, he felt his cheeks warm up, his heart beating a little faster, betraying his outward composure.

“What now?”

“What do you mean?” Katsuki finally glared back down at him, subtly peeking down at his lips again. Eijirou had a thought on his mind but ignored it for the sake of grabbing Katsuki by his collar and pulling him down to his lips.

Before crashing their lips together, he lessened his grip, leading their faces gently together and kissing Katsuki again. His hands traveled from the collar to Katsuki’s jaw, cupping his face softly, moving his lips against the other’s pair. Katsuki gave in with a silent sigh, holding himself up with one hand next to Eijirou. They parted every now and then, changing their angle and slotted their lips together again.

After a few minutes, they parted for good. Their lips were both red and glistening, swollen by their many kisses. Katsuki kissed the corner of his mouth once more and leaned back. The sun was shining at his face, making him close his eyes.

“I mean”, Eijirou cleared his throat, resuming their conversation, gesturing between them both, “the prince-servant thing. I mean, I don’t know how this will work.” There were uncertainty and doubt dripping from his voice, he could feel it in his chest.

Katsuki’s head tilted to the side, eyeing him thoroughly.

“Did you fucking forget who you’re talking to, hair-for-brains?” Katsuki smirked. “I’m the fucking prince. I make the rules.”

Eijirou chuckled. “Well then, my prince”, he pushed himself up on one hand, purring as he leaned toward Katsuki, “what are your orders?” Hooding his eyes intentionally, invading his space, Eijirou knew what Katsuki was going to say.

“Fucking kiss me.”

And he happily obliged.

[castielsgal]

Supernatural S13 E5  Advanced Thanatology / The night Castiel returns 

Credit to Writer: @angelofthequeers  / Credit to Artist: myself / Castielsgal<3

The drive back to the bunker was…surreal. Dean’s eyes kept flicking to the rear-view mirror, watching Cas slump in his seat, eyes watching his dark surroundings fly past outside the window in a blur. It almost felt like he was making sure that Cas couldn’t just disappear again.

No, that wasn’t going to happen. Cas was here. He was safe and sound. Here in Baby, with Dean. But that didn’t mean that Cas couldn’t still vanish again. Rule of thumb with Dean’s life: anything normally impossible was certain to happen to him.

Man, he should’ve let Sam drive back. Right now, all he wanted to do was imprison Cas in his arms and kiss the breath out of him and make sure that he couldn’t go anywhere ever again.

And okay, the meeting between Cas and Jack was actually kinda sweet. Dean would deny it until his (permanent) dying day but seeing Jack hug Cas and finally knowing for sure that Jack saw Cas as his dad and not Lucifer…it warmed Dean’s cold, dead heart, especially when Jack admitted that he’d begged for Cas to return and had possibly been the reason for Cas’ resurrection. And the kid was so eager to please, even having found them a case out in Dodge that they were going to head out for in the morning.

Which was how Dean found himself in his bed, wide awake at ass o’clock in the morning, unable to sleep despite being physically and emotionally drained after that ghost house case, his confrontation with Billie, and Cas coming back from the dead. It was the Cas part that was especially getting to him. Cas was right here, in the bunker, and all Dean had to do was go and see for himself that Cas was really alive…but he just couldn’t. There was still a part of him that was terrified that this was all a dream and he’d wake up with the taste of regret on his tongue and a pit of despair in his stomach. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d had this dream, though it’d never felt so goddamn realistic.

“Fuck it,” Dean muttered. If it was a dream, it was a freaking dream. He swung his legs over the side of his bed, stumbled over to his door, and opened it…only to end up face-to-face with Cas, who had a fist raised to knock.

“Dean.” Cas lowered his fist. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me so soon after –”

“Get the hell in here.” Dean reached out to grab Cas by the tie, then yanked the angel into the room and closed the door by shoving Cas into it, sealing their mouths together like he was dying of thirst and Cas was his oasis. Which, okay, was the sappiest fucking thing he’d ever thought, but it wasn’t actually that far from the truth regarding how he was feeling.

“I’m happy to see you too, Dean,” Cas said breathlessly when Dean retreated for air. Dean let out a funny laugh-cry and rested his forehead on Cas’ shoulder, his own shoulders shaking with the sobs he was trying to contain because goddammit, Dean Winchester did not fucking cry. Even if his boyfriend slash love of his life had just come back from the dead.

“You died.” Dean slid his hands under Cas’ trench coat – Trench Coat 3.0, wasn’t it? Whichever cosmic being had sent Cas back had given him a trench coat eerily reminiscent of the first – and pushed it off his shoulders. “You fuckin’ died.” Off came the suit jacket. “Again.” Then the tie. “And I – I freaking prayed to Chuck. But he ignored me.”

“I didn’t think Dean Winchester was the praying type,” Cas said. But the joke died as soon as it crossed his lips.

“Shuddup.” Dean fumbled to undo Cas’ shirt buttons, resisting the urge to just rip Cas’ shirt open and tear it off him. “I never pray. But you – you’re different. I hate it. I hate what you do to me.” His breath hitched. “I fucking hate you, Cas.”

Cas reached out to cup his cheek, brushing a thumb over the skin. Dean fought back the choked sob that threatened to break free.

“I love you too, Dean.” There was so much damn tenderness and understanding and affection in Cas’ voice and shit, shit, Dean couldn’t take it, he needed to touch Cas right now, ground himself, reassure himself that Cas was here and alive, because if this was a dream or if someone was fucking with him, he wouldn’t be able to take it –

“Dean?” A hand grabbed his and squeezed, anchoring him against the flood of thoughts and fears and just everything that was threatening to overwhelm Dean and sweep him away. When Dean’s vision refocused, the first thing he saw was a pair of blue eyes crinkled with concern and fixed right on him. “Are you okay?”

Fuck it. Dean ripped Cas’ shirt apart the rest of the way, causing buttons to scatter across his bedroom floor and Cas’ shirt to slither off, and then grabbed Cas by the hands and tugged him backwards towards the bed. Dean fell back on the mattress and pulled Cas on top of him.

“I love you.” Dean’s voice cracked. “I love you so goddamn much. And it terrifies me. You fucking terrify me, Cas. This – this power you got over me –”

“Is the exact same power you hold over me,” Cas said, brushing strands of sandy hair out of Dean’s eyes. How was the son of a bitch so damn calm about all this? “I’m just as scared as you. But I’m back, and I won’t let Lucifer take me from you again.”

“You left!” Dean let out a small sob and wrapped his arms around Cas’ neck to bury his face in the angel’s shoulder. “You left me, Cas!”

“But I came back,” Cas countered. “I always come back to you. I always come when you call, Dean.” He ran his fingers through Dean’s hair, sending a thrill of sensation shuddering through Dean’s body. “I know what will help.”

Dean untangled himself from Cas so he could ask what exactly was happening. But as soon as he caught sight of the look of concentration on Cas’ face, he knew. “Cas, no, you don’t gotta bring your wings out, I know you hate how they look –”

“Hush.” There was a flash of lightning and the shadow of Cas’ wings appeared on the wall behind him. But – holy shit. They weren’t torn and bedraggled and broken like before. They were…

“Your wings – they’re – but how?” Dean spluttered as the shadows solidified. Holy shit. No longer were Cas’ feathers limp and a dull, lifeless black. No, they were healthy and shiny and glossy, silky smooth when they brushed against Dean’s arms and sent an electric shock arcing across his skin. “Oh my god –”

“God had nothing to do with this,” Cas said, watching Dean’s reaction with a small smile. “It was Jack. Back when we were confronting Dagon and he used me as a conduit to channel his power and destroy her. He…well, he restored my wings. I was just as surprised as you are.”

“Why didn’t you just flap around, then?” Dean said in a hushed voice, running his fingers along the feathers and causing Cas to shiver violently, feathers fluffing up. “You coulda come back here when you got back.”

“I still can’t fly. Not until Metatron’s spell is reversed, which won’t ever happen unless God decides to intervene. My wings may not have been burnt off, but I still don’t have my full grace back. I don’t think I’ll ever get it back from the spell he used to close the Gates of Heaven. But…it’s nice to have my wings restored, even if they’re mostly for display.”

Mouth still hanging open, Dean continued to stroke and pet Cas’ wings, nearly unable to comprehend the enormous difference between Cas’ old, broken wings and…these. He really did have Cas back. The reminder that Cas had died was a bucket of icy water over his head, and he made a small sound and sat up to frantically shrug his plaid shirt off. He needed to be naked, preferably yesterday. Even if they didn’t do anything, he had to feel Cas’ bare skin against his own, even if just to ground him in the fact that Cas was here and alive.

Five minutes later, Dean’s clothes had been deposited on the floor in a heap, Cas’ shoes and socks joining them, and they were making out frantically. Cas hadn’t even bothered to remove his slacks, so the material rubbed against Dean’s hardening dick every time Cas shifted, and the sensation plus the knowledge that Cas was back, he was here, not going anywhere were so utterly maddening that Dean was already struggling not to blow his load. The way Dean was slumped against the headboard, legs loosely framing Cas’ hips as they kissed and groaned and whimpered, was just further proof of how damn out of his mind Dean was now that he had Cas back.

Cas was back. Cas was back. Back, back, back, back.

His brain replayed that on a constant loop as he tightened the arm around Cas’ neck and gripped a fistful of Cas’ dark hair with his other hand, using the slick slide of skin and fluffy, ticklish locks to ground himself in the moment so he wouldn’t have to remember how it had felt when Cas had been stabbed, and he’d been dead, a corpse on the ground, and Dean had had to burn him –

“Dean,” Cas murmured against Dean’s lips when Dean made a small, strangled sound. “I’m here, Dean. Focus on now.” As though proving this point, he brushed his wings down Dean’s legs, the feathers zinging whatever inch of skin they touched, and Dean let out a tiny little sob.

“You were dead,” he said thickly against Cas’ mouth. “I lost you again.”

“And I’m here now,” Cas said. The sight of him on his knees between Dean’s legs, hands braced against the wall behind them, biceps bulging, made Dean tighten his grip on Cas’ hair and drag him back in for another sloppy, furious kiss.

ce cracked. “Want you, Cas. Need you.”

“You have me.” Cas kissed Dean on the lips, long and sweet. “You always have me.”

They rearranged themselves, Cas reclining against the pillows and Dean straddling his lap. Cas’ slacks had disappeared at some point during this process – probably zapped away by angel mojo, though Dean didn’t really care to spend a brain cell wondering about that. Not when Cas was wrapping him in arms and wings and kissing the oxygen out of his lungs, circling his hole with one finger and loosening it with warm bursts of grace. Dean shuddered violently at the sensation. There was something…both so pure and so dirty about Cas using his heavenly power to quicker prepare Dean for this kind of physical, earthly, completely unheavenly thing. Well. Not that it didn’t feel heavenly.

Dean didn’t last long once Cas was inside him. At any other time, he might have been embarrassed; maybe even cracked a self-deprecating joke about stamina and being a teenager again, while Cas just regarded him with amusement and no judgement whatsoever. But this wasn’t one of those times. Dean was already on a razor thin edge when Cas entered him, and Cas wasn’t in the mood for fast and dirty; instead, he thrust up slow and deep, hands gripping Dean’s hips, wings cocooning Dean in a silky black embrace.

“Cas –” Dean cupped Cas’ face, drawing him in for a frantic kiss, thighs trembling with how close he was as he met Cas halfway in thrusts. Cas found his prostate on the next thrust, sending heat jolting from Dean’s gut, and it took one – two – three more hits before the warmth in Dean’s belly overflowed and coursed through his body, while he buried his face in Cas’ shoulder and spasmed and grabbed handfuls of the angel’s hair.

He was oversensitive as he floated back down from his high, come smeared between his and Cas’ bellies, but he just couldn’t ask Cas to pull out. He had Cas back. Cas was inside him, and if Cas was inside him then he couldn’t be gone. Simple logic.

With a grunt and a gasped, “Dean!” Cas came, filling Dean with wet warmth as he gripped Dean’s hips so tight that he was certain to leave bruises. But that was good. Bruises were physical. Physical was grounding. And grounding meant that Dean could actually be happy. When Cas died, he’d taken Dean’s soul right with him, and he’d just given it back and fuck, Dean was definitely going to cry any second now, why was he so goddamn sappy?

Dean grimaced when Cas pulled out, both mournful of the loss and a little squicked out at the sticky stuff leaking down his thighs. But Cas easily cleaned them up, then flopped back on the bed and tucked Dean into his side, wings forming a protective blanket around him. Dean shivered and nuzzled into Cas’ neck as the feathers idly grazed across his skin, leaving tiny sparks of grace as they went. The grace in Cas’ wings reacting with the tiny bit of grace in Dean’s body from when Cas had raised him from perdition and rebuilt him. At least, that was according to Cas, and Dean didn’t even care if Cas was lying because that was sweetest fucking thing he’d ever heard. Not that he’d admit it to anyone.

“‘M glad you’re back,” Dean mumbled into Cas’ sweaty skin. Yeah right, didn’t sweat under any circumstances, his ass. More like didn’t sweat for anyone except Dean.

“I’m glad to be back,” Cas said, carding a hand through Dean’s hair. “Contrary to popular belief, being dead is really boring.”

Dean couldn’t help it. He snorted, then snickered, then chuckled, then burst into full-blown hysterics, burying his face in Cas’ shoulder to muffle his laughter. Cas’ chest rumbled underneath him as the angel laughed too, but Dean was so far gone it wasn’t funny. Blame the orgasm endorphins. Dean was always an emotional son of a bitch after sex.

“Don’t ever fuckin’ leave me again,” Dean said when his laughter had died down to the occasional hiccup. “Christ, Cas, I can’t live without you. I don’t mean that in some ‘I’m gonna bump myself off way’ – I literally feel dead when you’re gone. I wanted to die, but Billie wouldn’t let me.”

“Billie?”

“Oh yeah, she’s the new Death. I’ll tell ya later. You’re – shit, man, you’re so goddamn important to me and I – I freakin’ love you.”

Cas leaned down to kiss Dean, hidden in the curtain of feathers shielding them from the world. “I love you too.”

“You leave me again and I’m gonna handcuff you to me. You capiche? You’re sendin’ me into an early grave.”

“I capiche. And my apologies. I didn’t think you needed any help with dying early.”

Dean snorted loudly. “Smartass. Now shut the fuck up and lemme sleep. We still got that case tomorrow. And don’t you dare go anywhere.”

“Of course not,” Cas said, now running feathers and fingers down Dean’s back. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“Good.”

Sure enough, when Dean groaned himself awake the next morning, Cas was right there, singing an Enochian song under his breath in his gravelly voice while running fingers along Dean’s scalp and twirling strands of hair around his fingers. Holy shit. Dean didn’t think he could love the guy any more than he did, but that moment absolutely smashed that assumption to pieces.

When Cas noticed that Dean was awake, a wide, soft smile spread across his face. “Good morning, Dean.”

Dean just grinned foolishly back and pressed a deep kiss to Cas’ lips, losing himself in Cas’ fingers and lips and wings and warm body and just Cas. This was heaven right here, and if Dean didn’t have other responsibilities and a brother he also loved and wanted to see, he’d stay right here and never get up. “Mornin’, Cas.”

[shamelessly4shameless-blog]

Nichovich (pt 2 - NSFW)

For those who have asked, this is a Gallavich fic - there will be Gallavich and plenty of it - eventually. Hang tight and let me know what you think. I write stuff to entertain you guys as well as myself. xx 

Mickey wakes in the morning to find his face is covered in something that feels like cobwebs and one of his arms is trapped. He rubs a hand over his face, grunting irritably and blinking into full awareness.

“The fuck?”

Nicky is curled up against him, her ass pressed against his belly, using his left arm as a pillow. Her hair has exploded from the hood she tucked it into the night before and is all over him in a riot of red-gold tangles.

Mickey clucks his tongue against his teeth and begins to extricate himself. He hasn’t slept beside a woman since Svetlana finally accepted Ian and moved out of his bed for good and long before that she has stopped trying to cuddle up to him. Mickey simply wouldn’t tolerate more than a minute or two of awkward petting whilst she tried to arouse him into some sort of action before he would either leave or roll onto his side, turning his back on her.

Their wedding night had been the most difficult because she felt so fucking obligated to seal the deal and Mickey had just let her do whatever the fuck she wanted because his mind had been with Ian and the amazing sex they had just before he pledged himself to another.

“I’m too drunk to fuck.”

“I will help you.”

“No, just … just leave it alone.”

“No, I am your wife! I will help ...”

Mickey had lain on the fake rose petal covered sheets, tux pants around his ankles, watching as Svetlana knelt over him, squeezing her breasts and shaking her ass, tugging with futile determination at his limp dick with experienced fingers. Mickey had tried to get himself hard, tried thinking of broad shoulders and narrow hips, just to get it over with. But he hadn’t been able to muster so much as a semi with Svetlana’s lips against his skin.

“Your father always manages, no matter how drunk!”

“Oh sure, by all means put that mental image in my head right now, that oughta help the situation a lot.”

Mickey had snapped and then laughed at the ridiculousness of the whole thing. He had laughed until tears trickled from the corners of his eyes, rolling down into the shell of his ears, muffling the wet sounds of Svetlana’s renewed efforts.

Eventually she had huffed in frustration and lain down next to him with a muttered Russian curse; smoothing her dress and informing him that his stupid little broken dick did not mean she was not a citizen now.

“Congratulations. You’re a fuckin’ card carryin’ apple pie eatin’ cowgirl now. Good for you.”

Mickey retorted, tugging his pants back up and rolling onto his side, closing his eyes and feigning sleep until Ian’s face swam to the forefront of his mind and carried him away into a dream.

Nicky gives a small whimper beside him, grip tightening on his jacket sleeve and Mickey loses his patience, yanking his arm out from underneath her with a sharp tug.

The air in the van is seriously fucking cold and Mickey knows the only reason he slept so well is because there was a warm body against him. He feels more rested than he has in days despite the beginnings of a hangover lurking around the edges of his eye sockets.

He needs to shower because today is the day he’s going to make his move and he wants to look as good as he can for Ian. Mickey squints into the cracked, rust flecked shaving mirror and grimaces. His hair looks fucking awful but his mug shot is all over Southside so he can hardly just walk into a barbers!

Mickey shakes his head, jaw clenched, and picks up his cigarettes from the foot of his bed. He’s fucking insane. He must be, because he is risking everything on the fucking off chance that someone who hardly ever visited him, never wrote and generally pretended he didn’t exist for over a year, might still be interested enough to run away to fucking Mexico with him.

Fuckin’ Gallagher!

If the prick had maybe shown up once in a while Mickey could have gauged what his reaction to this whole thing might be and the whole thing could have run a lot fucking smoother! On the other hand, Ian had completely ignored him and Mickey was still crazy enough to pull this sort of shit, so really what kind of signal would Mickey have actually accepted?

“You’re gonna get a lungful of filter if you’re not careful!”

Nicky is sitting up and rubbing what is left of her eyeliner into the creases of her eyes. Mickey glances down at the tiny stub of his cigarette and scowls, wiping it out against the sole of his boot in a streak of ash.

“Want one?”

“Sure. Normally I like to have coffee first but I’m guessing you didn’t pack an espresso machine when you fled the mansion, huh?”

“What the fuck are you … you know what? Don’t care. You want coffee, go out and get it your fuckin’ self.”

“Got any cash?”

“I’m not buyin’ you breakfast.”

Mickey grouches and Nicky grins broadly at him

“Sure you are. You could have frozen to death but I made the sacrifice to share my body heat with your scrawny ass.”

“You mean you decided to barge into my bed and get your fuckin’ rats nest all over my face?”

Nicky pushes her tongue into her bottom lip and gives her apparently nameless friend a long level look.

“Why are you such a moody asshole?”

“Questions like that make you a whole lotta friends or …?”

Mickey lets the question trail off as he rummages through his small pack of things looking for scissors or a razor, anything he can use to try and neaten up his hair.

“I’m going to get coffee, when I get back, you can tell me what has you all … possum again.”

Nicky shifts herself from the bed and kicks the doors open. Mickey hastily turns his back, instantly livid. There could have been a fucking patrol car out there! Whatever this bitch is running from, she clearly isn’t expecting to be found in Chicago. Careless moron! Just like Ian! Fuckin’ careless and messing with the neatness of Mickey’s life before hopping out the door and disappearing.

“Close the fucking door! Are you some sort of fuckin’ retard?”

He growls and Nicky does so, eyeing him curiously.

“Don’t want the world to see that happy smile?”

“Fuck you. You said you’re wanted? Maybe act like it.”

“Oh, like you are? You a jail bird too?”

Mickey gives up on finding the scissors and spins on his heel, grabbing Nicky by the front of her hoodie and dragging her up onto her toes in the small space

“You breathe one fuckin’ word about what you think you know, and I promise you will not have to worry about the cops finding you anymore.”

Their noses are less than an inch apart and Nicky pushes her face closer still, baring her teeth in a furious scowl

“Take your fucking hands off me while you still have them.”

Mickey tugs a little harder on her hoodie and then twists sharply, catching the knee she brings up against the flat of his thigh.

“That the best you got, bitch?”

He is looking at her intently but there is no threat of actual violence. Nicky has been around enough violent men to recognise when one is about to lash out. If anything, this kid is trying to provoke her into hurting him and whilst that is all levels of fucked up, it is actually quite reassuring.

“I asked you a fuckin’ question!”

He snaps and Nicky makes a disgusted sound at the back of her throat, rolling her eyes. She hasn’t spent a lot of time around little boys, but she knows the build up to a temper tantrum when she sees one. Best way to stop a toddler having a melt down? Give ‘em a little shock.

She throws herself forward and presses her lips to Mickey’s, flicking her tongue along his bottom lip in a deep kiss.

“What the FUCK?!”

Mickey lets go of her instantly and staggers back against the makeshift shelving, wiping his hand roughly over the back of his mouth.

“Yeah that’s what I thought. Listen, you want to get into a fight, go find someone your own size. That’s about my size but with a bit more dick attached in case you aren’t sure.”

Nicky holds her finger and thumb up, about an inch apart to highlight just how small she thinks the appendage in question must be and Mickey eyes her with something as close to bashfulness as he can get.

“Fuckin’ psycho.”

He mumbles but the fire has gone out of him and Nicky huffs an impatient breath. She has no idea why she likes this little fucker but she actually does. Nicky isn’t stupid, especially not when it comes to her own motivations, recovering from addiction, relapsing and recovering again, multiple times leaves one with a certain awareness of incentives within one’s own psyche. Nicky’s situation is currently a tiny bit fucked up. She has escaped prison and fled, via a series of trains, countless hitch-hiking and walking in her sturdy, prison issue boots, to get to Chicago. Now she is here she has no fucking clue what to do with herself and so she is latching on to compulsively take care of this nameless, heart-broken man until she can figure out what to do for herself. It’s shitty, but it’s not a needle in her arm or a view from behind bars, so it’ll do.

“How do you take your coffee? Black? White? Sweet?”

“Black. Sweet if they have the vanilla shit. Thanks.”

Mickey twitches his nose and thumbs his lower lip, which is still tingling from the kiss. Unpleasant as it was, it is the first kiss Mickey has had in quite some time and it has brought back a hundred little memories of Ian that he can’t process with someone else watching him and he really wants Nicky to leave.

“Check the door this time.”

“Uh … yeah I got that that is kinda important to you. Should I knock three times and hoot like a barn owl when I get back?”

“You should go fuck yourself, that’s what you should do.”

Mickey quips, digging a crumpled five-dollar bill out of his pants pocket and shoving it at her. At this point, Ian is filling up his mind and body so completely that he doesn’t much care if there is an entire fleet outside the van, he needs Nichols to fuck off pronto so that he can get his hands in his pants and relive every kiss that Ian ever gave him.

“Whatever. Back in a bit.”

Nicky uses the crudely cut little spyhole to peer outside and then opens the door again, hopping out lightly and closing it behind her.

Mickey flips the little plastic catch, tugging at his belt before the metallic click of the lock has even silenced. He lays back on the airbed, shoving his jeans over his hips, releasing his dick which is practically throbbing with need and letting it hover above his belly whilst he plunges a hand into his bag. He finds what he wants almost instantly and pulls the folded photo out, smoothing it carefully before holding it above his head and looking into the bright green eyes peering out of it. Ian is flipping off the camera as he always had, smirking his same smirk and looking so damn hot in his grey tee and beanie combo that Mickey can hardly stand it.

He closes his eyes and wraps his free hand around the shaft of his cock, covering the slit with his thumb. The memory of Ian’s lips against his own is so powerful he finds himself licking compulsively along the swell of his lower lip, expecting to taste the unique flavour of his redheaded lover.

Ian’s name is wrenched from his lips as his fingers apply greater pressure and his wrist begins pumping faster and harder. God! Mickey wants it hard. He wants it good and hard, he wants to be pounded into submission by Gallagher and left in a puddle at his huge fucking feet. He wants to feel his insides turn to jelly and the almost painful stretch of his flesh as he takes every inch Ian cares to give him. He wants to feel Ian’s teeth at his neck and hear the rasping struggle of his breath as he comes close to finishing. He wants to see those beautiful hands gripping his and smell the scent of him flush on the air around them.

Mickey convulses and shudders as his orgasm rocks him off the bed, his ass peeling away from the plastic with a wet sticking sound. He lies there until his heart has stopped trying to explode out of his chest, then slowly sits up, and grabs a scrap of fabric from the floor, wiping his hands and belly on it.

Mickey chucks it in the far corner and tips a little water from his bottle over his palms to get rid of the rest of his mess.

He needs to get himself fucking sorted. He’s going to show up to see Ian covered in the dirt of days on the road, his hair a matted fuckin’ mess and now stinking of stale jizz too? Fuck sake.

Mickey grabs a burner phone from his stash and punches in the number he has memorised. It’s time to get a plan together and go meet Gallagher.