#i def thought i would have finished heart is a muscle by now

[orgverse]

san's red hair got me and @sanjoongie going crazzzyyyyy. so please enjoy this while i make topaz suffer. N E WAYS this is also apart of a pornstar au that i'm currently working on, so enjoy!!

for the two, almost three, years you have known san, he has always had black hair. you remember watching videos and seeing him with different colored hair, but never in person. when him and wooyoung had reached out wanting to film a video with you and hongjoong, he had just cut and dyed his hair back to black from the blonde mullet he hand. and since then its been black.

so you were throughly surprised when you opened your apartment door and was greeted with bright red hair. your jaw dropped, literally. you probably would have started drooling if san didn't start teasing you. "you'll catch flies, star girl."

you were def going to be seeing stars soon.

san had volunteered to help you with your stream tonight since seonghwa was away visiting his parents, and hongjoong was busy editing the film you just finished shooting with yunho.

"no wooyoung?" you asked when you noticed the louder of the two males nowhere in sight.

"nah, he says he wants to stay home and watch the stream instead. think he said something about wanting to support his fav girl," he told you he walked into the apartment and removed his designer shoes. you noted how sexy san looked with his entire outfit. simple, but san was good at making simple look sexy.

his black tank top doing well to show off his muscles and his slim waist, and his jeans hugging his body nice and framing what little ass he has. but you won't tell him that because he would argue he does have an ass. sure, san, sure. he takes off the jean jacket he had been wearing and hangs it over the computer chair that seonghwa usually sits in.

he towers over you as he watches you pull up the website, love-heart-xx, and set up the stream. you remember san mentioning how he had streamed too back before he stopped and focused solely on just porn films.

"you're setup is very cute. very you," san says when you get up to let him sit down. that's when he finally takes a few moments to look around the room.

"o-oh, you think so?" you ask, a little caught off guard by his words. san nods his head, red hair bouncing with the movement.

"all the decorations are cute and welcoming, it makes it feel like its your personal bedroom and not a separate one. it feels... lived in," he explains and you feel a heat spread through your body at his words.

you've always admired san, having watched him since he first started his career in the porn industry. you kind of wish you found him when he still streamed. it had always been a goal – a dream actually, to film with him.

and now he's helping you with your stream. un-fucking-real.

"well, i'm going to go get ready! i'll be right back!" san doesn't say anything, but nods his head and gives you a smile before you're turning and walking out of the room.

walking into your actual bedroom you share with hongjoong, you find your lover sitting at his computer, headphones on, and eyes focused on the video editing program in front of him. you notice he's at the part where you and yunho were making out. yunho's hand holding your chin as his tongue licks over your own before he's sucking on it. you remember that scene and knowing what comes next makes you rubs your thighs together.

no, you needed to get changed. walking over to your walk-in closet, you go over to the section that was specific for streaming. you dug through your clothes before pulling out a dark blue lingerie set. when you walked out of the closet, you noticed hongjoong had his headphones off and was turned facing your direction.

"hey, babe," you said putting the lingerie on the bed before you take your shirt off. you notice hongjoong is looking at you, his eyes focused on how your breast bounced a little before you're taking your shorts and underwear off.

"i thought i heard you sneak in. is san here?" he asks and you nod your head as you step into the blue lingerie bottoms before putting the bra on. you look at yourself in the full-length mirror, turning to look at every part of you. "does this look good?"

hongjoong lets out a sigh before he's standing up and making his way over to you. his arm wrapping around your waist as he takes in your appearance. "you look beautiful," he says kissing your neck. he gives your ass a good pat before he walking back over to his desk.

"are you going to try and watch some of the stream?" you ask, making your way over to the door. hongjoong nods giving you a smile.

"of course, i'll do my best to pop in."

"okay! so usually seonghwa just sits here and kind of moderates chat. usually while i'm talking to chat, he'll jump in, but you don't have to if you don't want to," you tell san as you sit on the bed. you look at yourself in the monitor setup in front of you as you attempted to make sure you looked good. "do i look okay?" you ask, looking towards san.

"perfect," he says making you look away from him, a little flustered.

"you can go ahead and hit the button, san," you tell him shyly. he lets out a small chuckle before he's clicking the 'start stream' button and you watch as the stream starts and viewer start pouring in.

"hi guys!" you say, smile overtaking your face as you wave to the camera. the chat on the side of the screen being filled with your usual watchers greeting you. tips easily coming in. "i'm doing good tiger-star! hope you're doing well! ... oh! you like this piece, rubyred? i'm glad you like it, i've been wanting to wear it for a while!"

san watches you with a smile on his face. he takes in how natural you look interacting with your chat and... chatting with them.

"oh!" you say clapping your hands and earning san's attention, "seonghwa couldn't be here today... i know sunshine-sparkle, i'm sad too, but! we have a lovely person who agreed to cover for him tonight! ... no hotpants it is not patrick star," you deadpanned that last part making san chuckle. "sannie is here!" you say looking towards the male how leans forward just enough to stick his hand in front of the camera.

mega_yn_fan : holy shit THE choi san!!!

guylovescheese : FUCK! how much to see him fuck your pussy???

a_lexa_star22 : i would gladly pay to see that happen!

"do you think they want me to fuck you?" he teases making you let out a small laugh. suddenly, you see a rather large tip come in making you almost fall off the bed from how far you leaned over to look at it.

"holy shit! thank you wooenergizer for the three thousand dollar tip," you say, still not comprehending the sudden amount.

"oh, that's wooyoung!" san says, right before you read the message he also sent in with the tip.

"three thousand to see sannie finger you," you read out loud, feeling flustered by the message. wooyoung really had no self-control or filter.

san lets out a chuckle before he's standing up from his seat and crawling onto the bed next to you.

"if chat gets to ten thousand i'll fuck this pretty pussy," san says, spreading your legs to gently pat your clothed cunt. "sound good?" san adds before looking at you and you nod your head.

you let out a breathy moan, hips jerking forward as san fucks you hard and fast with his fingers. the wet sounds from your pussy mingling in with your moans, your manicured nails digging into san's thighs. he had removed his pants a while ago, leaving him in just his tank top and underwear. you feel his hard-on rubbing against your backside.

his other hand gropes your breast, your bra being pulled down to let your breast out. he pinches your nipples and gives it a good tug making you let out a whine at the feeling.

"s-sannie, please so-s-so good, fuck!" you say, tilting your head back to let it rest on san's shoulder. you could feel the tension rising within you, your orgasm coming soon. you attempted to close your legs but san didn't let you.

he pulls his fingers out of you and you whine at the empty feeling. san uses both his hands to spread your legs, throwing them over his own legs to keep them open. you moaned at how you could see your pussy on full display to for everyone watching. your pussy dripping with juices that run out of you and you can see it glistening under the lights.

you yelp, jumping and whole body bouncing when san suddenly gave your pussy a good smack before he's rubbing furious circles on your clit. "s-s-sa-san!"

"look at that, star girl, your chat got us to five thousand. that's halfway. should we switch it up?" he asks and you wonder who's he's talking to.

"hm... hungry2ho says they want you to sit on my face. i don't know hungry, do you think y/n's been a good girl enough to sit on my face?" san asks and you clench at the thought of sitting on san's face. he suddenly grabs your face, turning you to look at him. his eyes half-lidded as he meets your lustful and almost fucked out ones. "do you think you deserve to sit on my face?"

"p-ple-please san, i-i've been good! let me please," you're begging him now and san can't help the smirk that paints his lips.

"well~ since you asked so nicely, who am i to deny my pretty star girl," san says and you can feel your thighs tremble. "open your mouth," his voice is commanding and you do it without a second thought. you let out a loud moan as you watch san spit in your mouth, allowing it to run down your tongue and throat. "such a nasty girl. no wonder wooyoung is so fond of you, just like him," he says before moving to lay on his back, his bright red hair a heavy contrast to the cream-colored bedsheets.

"oh fuck– san, san! your tongue feels soooo good~" you say with a moan as you rock your hips back and forth. san had a tight gripped wrapped around your legs and waist as he kept you pinned down to mouth. his nose bumped against your clit, rubbing and stimulating it nicely as his tongue licked and fucked your pussy.

you glanced down, running your hand through his soft hair to see his eyes staring intensely at you. he stare honestly made your heart skip a beat as you felt his moans vibrate through you and shake your core. san kneaded the flesh of your ass before giving it a firm smack. the sound resonating through the room and you were sure anyone watching could have heard it.

wooenergizer : look at how you're falling apart on sannie's tongue 👅 can't wait to see you fall apart on his dick... again 🍆💦

you couldn't but let out a hearty laugh at wooyoung's comment before you see others in the chat agree with him. knowing wooyoung was still watching also made your heart skip a beat, because along with san, wooyoung had also been someone you admired within the industry.

"mmh~ san, fuck so good! i think i'm gonna cum!" you say, letting your head roll back a little as you grind your hips again, san's nose once again nudging at your clit.

"hold it, pretty star," san says, voice just as stern and intense as his eyes. you feel yourself clench when you notice the lower half of his face is glistening with your juices.

"sannie," you say, hand running through his hair as your other one runs over your body, feeling yourself and groping one of your breast. "please fuck me."

"i don't think your viewers want me to fuck you. you're still only at eight thousand," san says in a rather mocking tone.

"fuck– please, please let sannie fuck me! i need his cock so badly!" you beg looking at the camera and indirectly looking at your viewers. your eyes were pleading with them and hoping that your begging would convince them to continuing to tip you.

fuck, you felt like such a cock slut right now. but you couldn't deny how good san's cock was and how badly you wanted it.

and then it happened. you heard the familiar sound of being tipped and you immediately had to do a double take on it.

k.yeosang tipped $5,000.

your viewers must have seen the tip as well as the chat immediately exploded in excitement at the tip, knowing it was only a matter of time before they got to see you take san's dick.

"yeosang!" you say, chest warming when you realized it the male who had donated to you. "thank you so much! wow, you definitely didn't have to tip that much, but i really appreciate it!" you say, sliding off of san and letting him sit up so he could see the tip as well. he ran a hand down your back, noticing how your legs slightly trembled.

k.yeosang : make sure to invite me next time 😉

"i'll def keep in it mind, yeo," you say, not being able to stop the smile that overtakes you. you feel san pressing open mouthed on your neck and trailing down your back. you allow san to to move you so you're resting on your hands and knees, and you can't help the yelp that escapes you when you feel san gently bite your ass. you watch yourself and san through the monitor, feeling your excitement start to swell up as he removes his underwear and tossing them to the floor. you arch your ass, high into the air and gently sway it in an attempt to tempt san to move faster.

you moan as you see him pump his cock. the angry red tip, leaking with precum which his is using to lube himself. "s-sannie," you call out earning the male's attention. he smirks, running a hand through his hair before he's positioning himself at your entrance. you couldn't help the breathy moans that left you as san entered you. stretching you out, but sucking him in nonetheless.

"you sound like a bitch in heat, y/n," he laughs as he gently positions you, hands gripping your hips as he starts off with a harsh and fast pace. your mouth was fixed in a perfect o-shape, unable to close it and also so easily lost in pleasure that you couldn't make a sound.

having san fuck you was like a new experience, each and every time. of course it was mainly different because of the films you did together. each scenario being different enough from the last that it gave you a new experience each time.

and this time was no different. you couldn't help but shove your face into the sheets. wanting a moment to just feel san's cock abused your insides, yet the sudden sting to your scalp said otherwise. san held your hair harshly, gripping it to the point it was almost painful.

"don't hide your face, y/n, your viewers paid good money to see you get fucked by me. don't make them waste their money," san says as you feel him rest his body weight on top of you.

"i-i'm sorry!" you said, however who you were saying it to, you weren't sure. you felt tears start to brim your waterline, but thankful san let go of your hair in favor of using both his hands to prop himself up. the sound of skin slapping skin ringed in your ears. his cock rubbed against your walls, stretching you out over and over again and it made start to see small white stars in your vision.

"s-san! sansansan so-s-so fuuuucking good! ugh– please, please let me cum!" san presses a kiss between your shoulder blades before he's thrusting even harder. the tension in your stomach building up, waiting to snap and explode any moment now.

"fuck, i am too, my star. gonna let me cum inside you? give your viewers a good creampie?"

"yes! fuck, yes! fill me up!" you begged, you noticed your arms were now in front of you, hanging off the edge of the bed. you swear you feel a line drool run down your chin, but you arms feel so much like jelly that you don't have the energy to wipe it away. not that you care anyways.

then suddenly, you feel san pulling out and you feel your approaching orgasm quickly escaping you. you're about to scream, throw a fit before san is hoisting you up off your stomach on onto your knees. you are left slightly confused and dazed before san is entering you again. his arms hooking underneath yours to keep you up right. this new position allowing everyone to get a good few of san fucking your pussy.

"go ahead and cum," you hear him whisper and just like that, the coil snaps inside of you and your cumming with a loud and well... pornographic moan. san gives you a few more thrusts before he's sheathing himself deep inside of you and also cumming inside of you with a low groan.

you are out of breath, covered in a layer of sweat when san pulls out of you and quickly positions you on the bed. legs spread wide apart before he's getting off the bed. you watch him with dazed eyes as he picks the camera up – you want to complain about how he's ruined the perfect position you spent months working to find, but you don't have the energy to say anything. instead you watch him as he does a close up on your pussy which slowly begins to leak out his cum.

his fingers come to spread your pussy lips, showing off how much cum he truly stuff you with before he's scooping some up on his fingers. "fuck look at how well he's took him, such a good pussy," you hear him say at one point.

then san is panning the camera up to your fucked out face, his cum-covered finger easily slipping inside your open mouth. you have just enough energy to eagerly suck on his finger, tongue licking up his cum and cleaning his fingers. when he's sure your done, he removes them with a pop sound the rings around the room.

"tell your viewers bye," san says in a cheery tone making you smile at both him and the camera.

"bye-bye~" you say smiling, waving, and blowing several kisses to the camera that goes further away from you as san goes over to the computer to end the livestream.

san put the camera back on the tripod before he coming over to the bed. he pulls you more towards the edge of it by your ankles and you laugh at how easily he does it. his strength showing once again. he rubs circles onto you ankles before he's leaning over you.

"thank you, san," you say pressing a kiss to his cheek. you notice a faint pink dusting san's cheeks as he pulling away from you.

"of course," he says with a cough, "you know i enjoy spending time with you," he says adds on making butterflies swarm around your stomach.

"really?"

"really. now come on, let's get cleaned up and go bother hongjoong for food," san says with a smile as he helps you off the bed and begins walking you towards the door before he's stopping. turning to you before adding, "i would love to do this again soon. maybe even watch you and wooyoung have some fun."

"gosh, shut up and take me to the bathroom, you fool."

[mydemonsdrivealimo]

What I'm Becoming

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x M!MC (Jensen Valentine)

Rating: T

Warnings: in-depth talk about contamination obsessions/compulsions, therapy, medication, and depression

Word Count: 3681

Summary: The year after book three, Jensen's taken over the diagnostics team. For a few months, things were great. Work was great, his friends were great, things with Bryce were great. That is, until he gets a particular piece of news from his therapist that has him disrupting all his routines, making poor decisions for his health, and starting a slow downward spiral into a pit he has visited one too many times. It clouds his vision more than he's willing to admit, but, maybe, with the help of his loved ones, he can make it back through.

A/N: prefacing by saying that i know the therapy session is not accurate, nor are some of kolleen's behaviors/methods professional or safe; i do not give a shit. i just needed it to progress the plot, accurate or not. also, i know this is a long read, and thank you to anyone who even opens it. i know this is not everyones cup of tea with how much this focuses on jensens ocd, but im very appreciative to any of you who have an interest

title is inspired by "what im becoming" by cage the elephant, so def give that a listen before, during, or after the fic (only if you want ofc)

while i had the idea sitting for a while, thanks go to this ask for making me get off my ass and finish it

~~~

Kolleen was talking, blabbing on about something they were discussing a moment ago but he had lost all interest. He was timing his breaths to every other tick of the clock, thumbs alternatingly tapping on each thigh until they felt even. Teeth clenched tightly, he tried to muscle through the crawling feeling working up his back and far enough that he could feel it in his gums. The room was practically silent other than their chatter yet somehow still too much. He tried taking a drink from his water bottle, the ice cold water grounding him enough to pull him back into the conversation.

She noticed, of course, stopping what she was saying and giving him an up-and-down appraisal.

“What is it?” she asked, knowing how much he hated the niceties and getting straight to the point.

He shrugged, pushing his hands into his pockets, then back in his lap, then crossed over his chest to avoid touching the couch. By now, she knew his “I don’t know” shrug meant he didn’t know why everything felt off, not that he didn’t know what felt off in the first place. He was perpetually overstimulated, OCD holding on with a tight grip to all his thoughts and actions, and intrusive thoughts making the worst of appearances. Shocker, he could diagnose the problems just fine, but there wasn’t a cure.

It was never as serious as the bullshit Travis pulled; it never would be. Sure, death wasn’t looming over him, but sometimes it felt scarily enticing. It’d be so much easier if he didn’t have to worry about it at all, didn’t have to spend his only day off in a little office that made him want to vomit. There was never a way for him to just “get better.” He was stuck like this—with this—for the rest of his life, and sometimes that seemed too long.

He had been doing so good. Not perfect by any means, but better than normal. It probably helped that he was taking his meds consistently, but the second she broke the news last session he couldn't bring himself to take them at all. 

The last time he was here they talked about alternatives, other methods and mechanisms to try and relieve some of the stress and pressure while he went through the process of switching to the new prescription she had to put him on. They even talked about how cathartic crying could be and almost, just for a second, he started to laugh. He should probably be concerned that it had been over a decade since he shed a tear, remembering the numbness during the trials, the funeral, and his own near-death, but couldn’t bring himself to. Whether it was just an inability or his own subconscious refusal was none of his business. 

Kolleen had gotten up to collect a pamphlet and a stapled packet of papers from her desk, offering them to him before sitting once again. They were all informational pieces for a range of new antidepressants, from Anafranil to Paxil.

“Usually I’d just pick one myself, but, given your position, I assumed you’d want to take a look through the options.”

He scanned over the papers, reading the bolded headers and at least flipping the pamphlet over.

“Do you want an answer right now?” he asked, knowing he didn’t have the energy to read through any of them.

“No, of course not. Just try to have an idea by next week, or I can just prescribe what I think would work best.”

He nodded at that, folding up the papers and tucking them in the inside pocket of his jacket. They sat in silence for another minute before she let out a small sigh.

“How would you say the withdrawal has been?”

He knew it would have to come up eventually. He was a medical professional himself, for fucks sake—he knew damn well going cold turkey was not the way to come off of them. All things considered, it wasn’t as bad as it could be, only mild nausea here and there and depression manageable so far (if you could count collapsing into bed after every shift as “manageable”).

“Average.” She gave him a look, and he shot it right back. “It’s not severe but it’s not too mild; just sporadic nausea and the expected depression.”

She accepted that after a moment, nodding and jotting something down. “If there is a next time,” she looked up, “I’d appreciate a call or text before you stop taking them.”

“I know,” he replied, unable to feel anything other than guilty. “I didn’t really try to. I just didn’t take the first one…and then the first turned into the next six.”

She nodded understandingly, asking, “Did you think about it again when the symptoms started?”

He only shook his head, watching her, expectedly, writing something down. He took the moment to check the clock, an involuntary, impatient sort of sigh falling from his lips when he saw that they still had a whole twenty minutes left. Yes, he made the appointment, but, fuck, sometimes they could last forever. She had made the recommendation that they start meeting every week during this transition period, and it was making him hate every bit of it even more.

“Have you gotten out at all? With your roommates or Bryce?”

Again, he shook his head, hopelessly adjusting to try and find some comfortable position while touching the least amount of the couch he could. At most, he said hello to the roomies on his way to his room, and at least waved to Bryce a few times in the halls of Edenbrook.

“How about your hobbies? Have you done any cooking, music?”

And this is always where the depression hit him the hardest. He couldn’t remember the last time he took his AirPods out of the case, not opening Spotify in at least a week and eating no more than an energy bar a day.

“Not really, no.”

She nodded understanding, scrawling something out before looking back up to him. 

“That’s going to be your assignment, alright?” she said, point-blank. “Even if it’s just making toast, or listening to a song before bed.”

He nodded. That sounded easy enough. Hell, he didn’t even have to pay attention.

For the first time all meeting, he saw her gaze flick to her watch, taking a breath and clearly thinking over something. After a long minute, she turned to him again.

“Jensen, are you comfortable with me telling you something you don’t want to hear? Or would you rather I wait? I know you like to know our next topic in advance, but if it’s going to be a source of anxiety over the next week, I don’t want to add on more.”

He debated for a long minute. It couldn’t get much worse, but he also knew if she was giving him a heads up, it probably wasn’t great. She knew him well enough by now that he trusted that it was something bad, potentially bad enough to even cause another spiral. 

It couldn’t be as bad as the first time, though, right? The first time when he got his heart broken and lost his only hobby—only point of happiness—all in a month. He barely even remembered the weeks following, lost somewhere between the time spent in bed and in appointments to figure out what the fuck was wrong with him while ignoring the emails from professors and notifications about missing assignments. It could never be that bad, right?

“Go ahead,” he said, maybe against his better judgment, but needing to know if he could handle it or not.

She gave him a beat to reconsider. Reluctantly, she started with, “If the new medication doesn’t work how we plan, and your symptoms don’t improve…” She paused, letting out a sigh and clearly debating on whether she should have even offered the chance or not. “…we��ll likely have to start exposure therapy.”

Nothing. Not a thought went through his brain for a whole minute, quieter than it had ever been.

When he finally came to, all he could do was give her one, short nod, looking anywhere but at her.

“Jensen?” she asked, shifting to the edge of her chair.

“I’m fine,” he interjected before she could go anywhere. “It’s just—again?”

He looked back up at her. Technically, he didn’t have to go, right? He didn’t have to do another three hours a week in a tiny room surrounded by the things that made him want to peel his skin off (and he meant that literally). 

How much would it take for him to get fucking better?

He took a breath, knowing it was the lack of his meds talking. He tried to talk himself out of it, Kolleen giving him a long minute to try and sort it out himself. It took him a moment, but he managed to sort his thoughts for the minutes, breaking it up by things that were going to happen and things that only had a chance of happening. 

“How are you doing?” she asked after a long beat.

He just nodded, taking another breath before answering, “Good. Fine. I’m okay with that.”

She gave him a small, proud grin, settling back in her chair.

It only took them a few moments to finish up after that, Jensen feeling much better and, frankly, pretty damn proud of himself.

Unfortunately, that high didn’t last as long as he hoped it would. He told himself one bus ride would be okay, he would only have to wash one hand. But, what if the seats were open? Wouldn’t it be weird that he was the only one standing? It was the late afternoon on a Tuesday and, though Boston’s public transit was usually bustling, there was too much of a chance that he’d have to sit down, mind already buzzing with the thought of dead skin cells and contaminants and—

His feet started retracting his steps before he could get any further, taking a sharp turn down the route to his apartment.

A long walk later, he took out his keys to the front door, unlocking it and shedding his jacket before he even got it closed again. He pulled the pamphlets from the pocket, tossing it up on one of the hooks and walking straight to his room.

It was dark when he entered; he hadn't bothered to open the curtains that morning. He quickly stripped off his pants next, not letting them touch the floor and tossing them into the hamper in the corner with the rest of his clothes that had been worn outside already. He threw his shirt after it, pulling on a pair of joggers and a hoodie that hadn’t left the house since they'd been washed last. Next, he grabbed the disinfectant spray from the top of his dresser, sending a puff of it over his phone before wiping it off with the designated cloth.

He tossed the papers from his dresser to his desk, not letting them come anywhere near his bed. He was about to sit himself down there before stopping, face feeling particularly oily and knowing his hair would be next to follow.

Instead of falling into bed like he planned, he walked across the hall to the bathroom, washing his hands before coming back to grab another new pair of clothes, and a new set of towels from the closet.

God, when did it get this bad?

He took a quick shower to wash off anything from the outside before collapsing into bed, throwing everything else into the hamper to worry about another day. He managed to grab his laptop from the floor before crawling under the blankets, feeling utterly clean for the first time all day. After turning on some documentary, he pulled the blanket up to his shoulder, letting the mental exhaustion settle in after having to navigate himself to Kolleen’s office, withstand an hour of conversation, then get himself all the way back home. Even thinking about it made him more tired, enough for sleep to take him out in less than twenty minutes.

Hours later, when his slumber came to an abrupt halt, his laptop was still playing through an endless cycle of documentaries, onto one he didn’t recognize by now. Light from the nightstand illuminated that side of the dark room, daylight replaced with a yellow sliver between the curtains from the street light outside. Numbly, he let his hand find its way out of the blanket, tilting the phone screen toward him. He watched it ring for another minute with Bryce’s name displayed on the screen, eventually swiping to decline and letting it thump back onto the nightstand. 

As he pulled the blanket back over his shoulder, it buzzed again. Picking it up, the new message read, “totally spoiling the surprise but i brought you dinner and your front door is locked so,,”

“and don’t pretend you didnt ignore that call on purpose.”

He let out a short, soft sigh. The thought of prying himself out of the covers sounded completely exhausting, walking to the front door nearing on impossible. Faintly, and after pausing his laptop, he could hear Jackie’s voice from her room. He sent her a quick text to let Bryce in, sliding the phone back and pulling the blanket up again.

His eyes weren’t even focused on the screen by the time a blinding bright light spilled in from the hallway. After the room darkened again, there was some rustling and shuffling among Bryce’s greeting, the bed dipping down behind him as he kissed his shoulder then temple. Rubbing his eyes, he could only hope that he could pass it off as tiredness.

Somehow he managed to turn around, feeling a lot like jello or pudding or some other lifeless form of sludge. He let his arms wrap around Bryce, pulling him in for a sleepy sort of hug and burying his face into his neck. He, thankfully, smelled strongly of his stupidly expensive shampoo and soap, roots of his hair still wet from a shower. Bryce let out a content little hum, happily pressing a few kisses along his face before reaching over to click on the nightstand lamp.

“Do you want your dinner now, or wait a little bit?” he asked quietly, thumb gently grazing over his waist after he settled behind him contently.

He let out a feignedly-sleepy hum, letting his head fall back into Bryce’s chest. Even having to get a word out seemed like a herculean task.

Bryce pressed a few more kisses behind his ear and down his shoulder before squeezing him in tight. His hands mindlessly wandered up and down as he rested his chin on top of Jensen’s head.

Ah, shit. Jensen didn’t even know what he did to give it away, but Bryce being this snuggly and this quiet meant he figured that something was off.

Not saying anything at all was probably the way to go; it had worked all those years prior with his mom and other relationships.

In all honesty he didn’t exactly know when it started. He would have to use both hands to count the amount of events that could have triggered it, everything from childhood sickness, to moving to a new country, to the college mental breakdown he liked to describe as “minor.”

College was the first time he had gotten anywhere with his diagnosis, at least. The court-mandated sessions years prior were pretty much bullshit, just making sure he didn’t plan on murdering anybody but having nothing to do with his own wellbeing. 

That was also the first time he had to sit through exposure therapy, hating every goddamn second of it but knowing it would be worth it in the end—because it would just be over with.

But things could never be that simple, could they?

At least, before all this, he could pretend it wasn’t happening. He had it down to an art form, masking all the racing thoughts and uncomfortable situations. Nobody had caught on for years, his mom never picking up a trace and past partners probably not giving enough of a shit to ask. It was easier like that—keeping people at a distance through easy conversation and practiced redirection—and he knew he was giving his friends the same treatment.

But then there was Bryce, always studying him a little too long and caring enough to make sure a round-table question got to him, too. The lingering gazes and smiles somehow managed to fall his way. They melted into something more sincere, more loving, than Jensen had ever seen him give someone else. Bryce’s unfazed, unbothered, completely overconfident attitude simmered down to something heartfelt and genuine for him. 

And what the fuck was he doing to him? He never asked for this, never wanted whatever the fuck this was. Sure, Jensen skipped a few doses here and there, but nothing like this. Bryce wanted something—someone—fun and spontaneous, and, yeah, he said he fell somewhere along the way, fuck knows Jensen did too, but he never signed up for this. Nobody wants to deal with the self-sabotaging fool who decides to quit the only thing keeping him in one piece.

Jensen didn’t even notice Bryce had been talking to him, eyes unfocused and staring somewhere across the room, sickening guilt settling in the bottom of his stomach. He could feel Bryce’s hands warmly wrapped around him, coming undone as he leaned back and gently pulled him by the shoulder. Jensen finally managed to look up at him as he asked, “Jensen, what’s going through your head right now?”

He could only muster an, “I’m sorry,” instead of answering the question. 

What kind of fucked up person could leave him in the dark like this? Jensen hadn’t told him anything, about not taking his meds, about the increased therapy sessions, about any of it. He was supposed to love him—he did—but did he even have the right to say that when there was so much he wasn’t saying?

Bryce gave him a confused little look, and Jensen should’ve started apologizing again. “Sorry for what?” he asked, still with a little smile on his lips.

Jensen managed to sit himself up, putting a little more space between them. He considered his words but wasn’t quite able to make eye contact when he finally got them out. “I’m not taking my meds.” That didn’t seem to clear up any of the confusion on Bryce’s face.

“Okay…?” he answered, clearly knowing that this was a much bigger deal to Jensen than it was to him.

“I have to change my prescription, and I stopped them too fast. I’ve been going to therapy every week now and I can’t even fucking ride the bus and now I might have to start exposure therapy again.”

Bryce considered for a long moment, giving him an understanding nod but still not wiping the confusion from his expression.

“Thank you for telling me,” he answered, but the tone of a question lingered on the end.

Jensen looked up at him for the first time since the start of the conversation. “I should have told you earlier,” he said defiantly, like he was saying exactly what Bryce was thinking.

Bryce only gave him a look. “No?” His hand moved to Jensen’s knee, thumbing over it while continuing, “If you weren’t ready to tell me, you didn’t owe me anything.”

“But I do,” he answered practically before Bryce could finish. “You should’ve been the first person to know. You’ve done so fucking much for me, and you shouldn’t have to deal with all of this shit; you’re already throwing away time you could be spending with friends to sit here and listen to me whine—”

“Hey,” Bryce interrupted with a soft tone, hooking his finger under Jensen’s chin and tilting his head up so their gazes matched. “Jensen, I’m not ‘throwing away’ anything because of you. I’m not obligated to be here, I’m here because I want to be. I’m here because I love you.”

And maybe Jensen didn’t deserve that much.

“…But what if you don’t love this version of me?”

Jensen had never seen Bryce’s face fall so fast. He was utterly still for all of a second, looking for something, anything, in Jensen’s eyes that said this was some sort of joke. He tried to start talking a few times, stopping over and over again before finally going with, “Jensen, I have loved every version of you since I met you, and I will love every version of you for the rest of my life.” He didn’t break eye contact the whole time. “I don’t care how bad things get. What matters is how I can help and if I can make any of this easier for you. Nobody could get through this without at least a hiccup, and you sure as hell aren’t magically going to go from point A to point B unscathed.”

Even though it took Jensen a long, endless moment to realize it, Bryce was right. He needed to get out of his own head for long enough to realize that, taking in and replaying every word until Bryce leaned towards him, Jensen nearly tackling him in a hug. Bryce held him, letting him crumble against his shoulder and squeezing as tight as he could. He easily hushed the apologies Jensen mumbled into him.

They stayed like that for longer than either of them would’ve imagined. Jensen felt like a wreck, both worse and better than before, but knowing he was safe enough in Bryce’s arms to let it all go for one breathable moment.

Bryce finally broke the silence, asking, “Would dinner help?”

Jensen let out a shaky breath and nodded. He sat up, stopping Bryce from getting off the bed with a hand on his waist. His other tucked under his jaw and around his neck, pulling their lips against one another in a sweet, slow kiss, all admiration, reverence, affection, and love underneath.

~~~

tagging: @choicesficwriterscreations @cariantha @ofmischiefandmedicine @jerzwriter

[recurring-polynya]

How often does it usually take you to start and finish a fic?

Varies wildly, tbh.

For short fic, if I have an idea, I am capable of pounding out a <2k fic in a single evening, but I would say that generally it takes me about 3 days.

For a 5-10k fic, 1-2 weeks, unless I get stuck. Odds are that I am going to get stuck at least once in a fic of that size, so maybe plop on another week after that.

I would say it probably takes me about 4-6 months of actual work to write a 100k fanfic, but there are many, many more opportunities to get stuck, including getting stuck for prolonged periods of time, or diverting my attention around to other stuff. I just checked, and it took me 4 months to write Between Tides. Call Me Back took me 7 months of calendar time, but I wrote Portions for Foxes in the middle of that and did an entire Inktober, etc. What We Do with Our Hearts took me a year and a half to write, but we had a pandemic and I got super writer's block and many other excuses as well. I had about 30k of it done, much in a very messy state, but then I went heads down this past September and finished it in early December.

I've been tracking my word count pretty steadily for the past 3 years, and I usually write 2k-5k per week, although I can do 10k if I'm having a good week.

I've definitely been slowing down over time, probably just because I've written the stories I had really clear visions for. It is often the case these days that I'll want to write something set around a certain event or something like that, but I won't actually have a specific idea for it, and if I'm able to write anything, it comes in a lot more fits and starts and there's a lot more staring at the wall. It's also the case that I was still working during my first, most productive year, and I would spend my commute and a lot of boring meetings brewing fanfic in my head, and then it was just a matter of typing it up when I got home and had the time. I have a lot less forced boredom these days, so now I have to make time to actually think about my stories, which sounds bizarre, but it is, surprisingly enough, a part of the process.

[notlycheesden]

Rearview Mirror

Heyyo ✌🏻 this is my first written piece for Endeavor , as a gift for my friend @kogo for the evil exchange. so I hope you like it my dude 👍🏻. A piece I will def be coming back to write more for sure.

⤍ Endeavour x reader

⤍ 3.6k

⤍ TW.incest, TW.dubcon, TW.father/daughter

⤍ Summary:

Enji was trying to be a better father, a better man.

And you never lied to him.

Guess it was a time for a lot of firsts.

Everything was always red between the both of you.

It's past four when his phone rings.

He was awake. even on his day off -those becoming more frequent now- years of routine were still strong. His body alert and aware way before the break of dawn for hours of training before patrol, and later to go to his own agency, the literal empire that wouldn't run itself.

He was pretending to be asleep, unmovable laying on his stomach, face buried on his pillow. Deep breaths in and out in a rhythmic pattern. His massive frame takes most of his king-size bed that for more than a decade he slept right in the middle, no reason to let the right side of it unoccupied.

It was almost meditation-like. There in the quiet and calm of his bedroom between his sheets, he could organize -or at least try- his thoughts. A time in his day where he gets lost in self-reflection. The things he would have to do that day, what work in his agency he would have to supervise, and even stubbornly he would do a little steaming out, analyzing his “actions and emotions”, passing commentary from the resident agency therapist threw his way.

“A strict but good man, if not for some, mishaps, from your intense and fiery nature.” was his professional opinion about Endeavor. The man really lived to throw things his way.

It used to help calm his turbulent mind. But lately there was nothing in his head but turmoil.

It was something he would do until 6 AM, when he couldn't take any longer and had to get up, body and muscles aching from staying in bed for too long, the sun already rising on the horizon, painting the sky with yellows, pinks, and reds.

The silence of his room is broken by the ring of his phone. Instead of the familiar tone of the morning alarm, it was his normal ringtone. When he opens his eyes, the room was not bright as he expects, still shrouded by darkness. Endeavor sits on his bed at once, alert.

Getting it from the bedside table quickly, his posture falls when he catches the time and the already saved contact of who was calling him: Natsuo.

Enji picks up, but before he could question the call, the time, or even say hello, Natsuo speaks, voice grave and serious.

“You need to pick up your daughter right now.”

It’s a punch to the gut. One that makes all the air from his lungs escape at once. In a second, he feels like he is thrown into a rollercoaster.

The only thing he can muster in his shock is a guttural and deep bark of incredulity “What?”

Natsuo cuts Enji off immediately. His tone triggering him into snapping, memories hushing in -not the time for this- “She just called. She was a crying mess, begged me to come for her but I live two hours away-Shouto is on patrol and not picking up and Fuyumi is with her fiance's family at the onsen-”

Enji inhales sharply. Dread takes hold of him while he can't even see straight with the sudden rush of adrenaline, sirens blasting off in his head.

“She was supposed to be with fuyumi at the onsen.” His voice echoes back at him in his bedroom walls, he doesn't realize he is shouting.

“Look, this is really not the time. She has no money and her phone’s dead. I was able to get her to tell me an address before the call dropped. she's all alone there. Are you gonna pick her up?”

Natsuo calms his own breaths now after snapping and shouting back, and he can hear shuffling noises on his father’s side of the line. The older man was up in a second, not really seeing anything, rushing through his stuff picking his keys and wallet. He hates the way his father could make him snap so easily.

Enji was completely distraught.“She said she was going to be with fuyumi…” He mutters under his breath while running through the corridors, even forgetting the phone by his ear, his son still on the line.

But Natsuo hates even more the blatant difference in the way his father treated all of them and you in comparison. Always. Like he could fix his mistakes. Hide his sins.

“Well. Think your little princess lied to you old man.”

Enji didn't even register the venom in his son's words, nor when he hangs up on him.

He’s out of the house in a blink. He tries not to rip the door out of its hinges on his way out.

——

He drives fast, almost no other car in the streets making it easier to speed up in his nervous state. The GPS voice droning about the directions, a forty-minute drive that he would make in twenty.

you said you were going to spend the weekend with your sister.

You lied to him.

Enji’s heart hammers in his chest and his flames burst multiple times on his face out of control. His grip on the wheel tightens to ground his shaking hands, his jaw set with such force that he could feel a headache already forming.

Thoughts were flying through his mind a mile a second. Where are you? What happened to you? Who were you with? Were you safe? Why were you crying?

Why did you lie to him?

It was like his heart was being squeezed by dread and being broken at the same time.

You were his youngest. After he realized what he did to his children as a father, he tried his best to do better; connect, communicate, but he was emotionally and socially stunted -Thanks doc.- and by the time he tried to reach out, it was just a little too late.

Fuyumi was the pillar of the household, replacing their mother too much young and having to fit in a mould not meant to be hers, barely holding the treads of the family and house together. Natsuo was out of the front door as soon as he finished high school and got into med school, choosing to live in the dorms and work part-time rather than stay at the manor. Shoto was another history in itself.

And there was you, a couple of years younger than your now up-in-the-ranks pro hero brother, at the time just a pipsqueak. Too young to remember Rei, remember the worst of Endeavor.

And when he tried to connect, you were there. As if just waiting. Wanting your father to look at you. Frail and innocent and just in want of care, of attention, of love. You welcomed him into your life with open arms and heart.

Enji did try to make it right by you. And for some time things were progressing, even his other children were starting to turn their heads around his direction.

Until Touya’s incident.

The media cracked down on him and his family with a vengeance, almost nothing was left unturned or whole.

Natsuo was the first to cut ties. Shouto threw himself into his hero work, completely closing himself off. Even Fuyumi decided that she was done, took the next step, and went to live with her now fiance, completely ignoring whatever Enji tried to shout about costumes or honor.

Then it was just the two of you.

He tried to be a good father.

He was a quiet man in his private life, strict and with a violent nature, but he reached out for outside help to make it right. An older and trustworthy housekeeper to not chain his daughter down at the manor, guidance from therapist to help him become a better father, a better man, anything to do right this time.

Call it atonement, call it his redemption, call it hypocrisy, he didn't care.

He only cares that at the end of the day, you were there at his side, happy.

This morning he saw the note on the fridge.

Going to onee-san family trip,

Be back on Sunday.

You never had lied to him before.

Guess it was a time for a lot of firsts.

——-

The music blasting through the night tipped him off even before his car's GPS tells him he arrived at the destined location.

He parks way down the street and assesses the place inside the darkness of his car.

Enji’s way out of the city now and inside the industrial district, the building seems old and falling to pieces, people are lingering all around the street, but it’s thicker there. At surface level the building was empty, but the music was definitely coming from there.

He dreads the worst.

Getting out of the car still in his sleeping sweatpants and tee, he throws the hood of his workout jacket over his hair to conceal himself. He’s going for discretion, get you and get out, no need to make this a public affair. Not with this, not with you, not right now.

He searches around but still can't find you. Half an hour has passed since Natsuo called. He's in a frenzy. Endeavor forces himself to calm down and think.

His son didn't mention music. He looks far into the street and he can see the entrance of an alleyway, he hushes there.

His stomach tied in knots when he sees in the dark your small figure crouched down beside a dumpster. your shoulders ate shaking with silent sobs holding your dead phone for dear life, trying to make yourself smaller than you already were, head down.

Enji barks your name and your head snaps to the entrance of the alleyway in shock, your body trembling and fat tears running down your smudged makeup.

“Daddy!”

In a second you were up and running, throwing your body against him and hugging his middle. He doesn't know what to do first, but he opts for following his instincts. Enji hugs your shaking form, shushing you lightly while petting your head. He doesn't know if it's him or you who's shaking more.

He doesn't remember how, but he manages to walk both of you to his car without being seen, his hulking form covering your smaller one.

He's shaking. When Enji puts you in the passenger seat and the car lights momentarily shine everything in an amber glow, rage fills his chest. You are in a dress he has never seen before, he knows it was not yours. He would never allow a thing like that or let you use it in public. Your makeup that before being ruined by your smudging and crying, was heavy and meant to seduce.

He closes your door and gets in the car.

He's shaking.

——

Enji can only control himself enough to not rip the wheel or step on the gas right through the flooring for only three blocks. and thank the gods again for the hour, because he could not quite see the streets in front of him. If they weren't deserted while he drives double the velocity permitted, it would be likely that the fears of his family being again under the cruel and ravenous judgment of the public eye would become reality, although for a completely different reason from the ones he has been dreading until this point.

When he reaches the fourth block, he makes a sudden stop, turning and parking harshly with the front of the car almost all the way over the curb, the tires skidding loudly into the quiet of the night and scaring you out of your still shell shock state. your small sniffles stop when you let out a muted yelp of surprise.

Enji quickly pries his hands that have a death grip on the wheel and smash the roof of the car to turn the lights on in such a way that later he’s impressed he didn't send the entire ceiling flying. As fast as he did that and the darkness of the car is now cast in warm gold, his hands are on your small frame like a striking snake, a big calloused one gripping your face between meaty fingers, squeezing your wet cheeks and the other one in your far shoulder, turning you in his direction with a barely controlled yank. Enji wasn't sure if the shaking was coming from your body or his.

He's frantic, hectic, eyes going up and down your body trying to find anything, something. “Are you hurt? tell me,” His voice is harsh, too loud into the small space. You jump startled, but his grip locks you in place, he doesn't notice.

Why did you come to a party? Why are you dressed like this? Why did you do this?

“Are you?? Someone did something? Gave you something, touched you?” He barks again louder, bending and twisting to be in your face now, eyes scanning all over your body. But again and again, they would be drawn to the too short hem of your dress, from your ruined tearstained makeup and down again to your soft and creamy thighs, trying to find a mark, a scratch, a stain. Anything, something.

“Fucking answer me!”

“Dad please!”

Enji lets you go as if you just slap him in the face. He blinks.

You are shaking. Looking at him in fear, silent tears running down your cheeks. Your jaw is set as you try to hold your whimpers back, his fingers make red marks bloom on your face and arm under his digits.

Memories come back rushing. Phantoms scourging in blue flames.

He releases you as if you burn him.

His hands hover in place, and he doesn't dare to move, still crowding you. Both of you staring at each other in fear and confusion as if something would break.

He slowly backs away, and you keep still. He turns the light off and stares at the road.

Enji couldn't take more things between both of you breaking.

He takes a deep breath. Starts the car again to drive back home.

——

Friday nights are your nights.

Enji doesn't really remember when it started. But he knows it wasn't something that was spoken of or agreed beforehand. It happened once, then twice, then his job got in the way, then thrice, and when he noticed, it was a routine between him and his daughter.

Like most things between both of you, it just… fell into place. And it just felt right.

Endeavor would arrange his schedule in a way so that his Fridays would be empty, any emergency at the agency could be easily solved that way, patrols and hero work set on the weekends so he could come home at a sensible hour, just by dinnertime.

He would be just taking his blazer and shoes off at the entrance when Enji would hear your running steps from the kitchen, your pinky apron-clad figure hushing to meet him with a bright smile, eyes shining.

you would get a hold of his tie and gently tug down for him to bend at the waist to your level, your arms were thrown in a warm hug on his neck and a sweet and lengthy kiss on his cheek after he steps through the threshold. you would giggle against his face from the tickles you got from his stubble while warmly welcoming him, the food still hot on the table.

It was one of your multiple habits together, just the two of you. And it felt right.

It was routine. And it felt so domestic, warm and right.

Friday nights are your nights. After he gets home, you guys have dinner, something you cooked by yourself, sending the older housemaid away earlier.

Sometimes it is a new recipe, sometimes something you already tried before. But it's always good, and when Enji compliments your cooking skills and how much he enjoys it, your cheeks blush red. You daintly try to hide your smile as you thank him, bashful behavior so alluring even when he knows is just a little act, playing coy. There's warmth in his chest.

The lights in the dining room cast everything in this whimsical warm glow and maybe it's the beer, but Enji thinks it reflects lovely on you and the color of your blouse today. He says so.

“Looking so pretty tonight, princess.”

The red on your cheeks grow stronger. From across the table, he hides his smirk behind his can at seeing how you fidget in place, trying to contain your coquettish smile while biting your plush bottom lip. The warmth spreads lower.

Only later it dawns on him. Enji was flirting with his own daughter. And it was a habit.

It was routine.

Enji is sprawled on the big sofa comfortably, already showered and in his sleeping clothes after dinner, the second movie of the night halfway through.

It was a period drama and he tries to pay attention to the main points for your quiz about it the next day, but he was mostly checked out, lulled by the comfy dark of the living room, the buzz of the beers he drank, sleep and your warm body draped over his.

He doesn't really remember when it started, but he knows it was gradually. One day in your Friday movie nights, he notices you were glued on his side, and on the next one you had an arm draped over his torso while both of you were laying on the reclining couch, and since then, you were always over him, arms and thighs and breasts glued to his body, but most of the time cutely laying on his chest.

That night was no different. You are laying on his broad chest, using your arm as leverage to look down and back at the tv in front of the sofa, and for you to not slip he has one big palm over your waist and the other in a secure hook on the slope of your knee, propping your bent leg higher across his stomach. Your breathing matches his, and if not by your little grunts and noises of surprise, the redhead would have thought you had fallen asleep on him. It would not be the first time.

The clothes you are using are small and had hiked up a long time ago, a loose tank top and booty shorts, both of them old and worn out, sleep clothes.

From where he was, he could see all your body over his. From the crown of your head to the slope of your waist as it dipped under his scarred hand. His gaze follows the curve of your thigh draped over his waist to the fat of your ass pointing high. He muses in a daze that he could see the inside of your tank top, the soft swell of a breast making an appearance. He leers.

You move a little, and this time, he can make out the shade of a nipple. It’s pert and small and pretty, and blood rushes to his clothed cock, but is late, and he's tired and buzzed out. It doesn’t connect in his mind.

You move. you are getting yourself higher on his chest. Enji feels small hands wandering under his shirt. Presses of lips on his neck. Wet kisses on the stubble on his jaw.

The soft touches pull him deeper. There's a young and wanton body over his. It’s been so long since he truly touched another, let himself be touched. Smooth lips and an uncertain tongue were kissing him, and he wants to devour them. It’s hot and burns and makes his insides coil, his cock hard and heavy inside his pants. A warm slit humping it.

Could have been the tiredness, the beer, the comfort of the situation, anything really.

Enji kisses you like a man starved. Head moving and ravaging your much smaller mouth with his tongue. His hand yanks your tank top down exposing your breasts, and now he’s pulling and pinching the sweet nipples in a way that makes you moan against his tongue with a voice he couldn't recognize.

His other hand was down at your ass, guiding your movements back and forth on his erection with vigor, the friction against your slit makes you weak, but he keeps you moving, his calloused hand encompassing most of your behind. At each needy thrust his fingers would slide down between the cleft of your ass more and more.

His meaty fingers push the bottons of your shorts aside with a flick of his wrist, and now he's touching directly your puffy lips that are messy and wet all over. Enji growls in your mouth as you moan louder when he starts playing with your pussy, a pitched whine as he flicks your clit up and down, a strong hold on your breast.

A loud bang from the TV is what snaps him back to reality.

It was his daughter.

His daughter was over him. It was his daughter that was humping his cock, that he was sucking her small tongue and tweaking her nipples until he made her squeal.

He jumps to his feet and throws you across the couch.

Different from him, you look wide awake. Flushed face and startled eyes stares up at him, exposed breasts still heaving. Nipples rosy and hard. Between your legs, a glistening trail of where his fingers dragged when he ripped them off of you. Your shorts are drenched.

There's a moment of silence.

Enji snaps. He sprints to his bedroom, leaving you alone in the living room.

He locks his door, drops to the floor, and whips his hard and heavy cock out. in three pumps, thick ropes of cum cover his hand and clothed middle.

Taking big gulps of air trying to calm his breathing, his eyes glancing everywhere in a panic state, he looks down, and spot the wet patch on his clothed thigh. Yours juices that leaked on him. Its still in his other hand, fingers wet.

Enji wants to cry.

He tried to be a good father.

He ruined it again.

[jinkicake]

High And Dry

The captains’ reactions to when you suck them off before practice, refuse to let them cum, and leave them with a boner right as practice starts. 

Bokuto Koutarou x Reader

Kita Shinsuke x Reader

Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

Oikawa Tooru x Reader

Sawamura Daichi x Reader

Terushima Yuuji x Reader

Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader

Here you go anon~ AH, this is so long I’m going to add ‘read more’ so it doesn’t clutter your tl. I think this is one of the longest things I’ve ever written so please excuse the typos or weird wording if there is any,,, I can only reread my writing so many times as I edit it LOL

SMUT // NSFW 

WC- 4,317

~~~

Bokuto Koutarou 

Bokuto would be sooo happy to get a blowjob, right before practice too? Shite, it’s gonna make him sooo excited

Not to mention he will be a BEAST during practice like he is going to go off, emo Bokuto will not exist that day

Bokuto doesn’t really plan that well so I feel like there is a good chance someone is going to walk in on the two of you 

And that person is definitely going to be Akaashi

The setter won’t ‘notice’ though, he will pretend not to notice because of his big heart but he def saw

You may have to smack Bokuto silly for almost getting caught, like he wanted this so badly and didn’t prepare for it?!

Once you leave him high and dry Bokuto will go emo mode

Literally,,, he will be so dramatic and act like he can’t move like he has a broken leg or something…. You know,,, I mean his dick really be a third leg

He will be so lost and clueless, truly 

The next time he sees you after you leave him hanging, he will pounce on you 

“Please,” Bokuto pouts and you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“No.” You reply and Bokuto dramatically groans before sulking.

“It’ll help me play better,” Boktuo tries to persuade and you tap your chin with your finger. In truth, it is your fault that Bokuto has a boner but that doesn’t mean you have to suck him off! In any other instance, you would be on your knees and Bokuto wouldn’t even have to ask you but right now it’s different. Had you two not been in the storage closet and had Bokuto’s practice not start in twenty minutes you would have definitely said yes but now, it’s too risky.

“Let me think about it,” You tease and purse your lips in thought, feeling slightly guilty at Bokuto’s hopeful eyes. “no."

“Why not?” Bokuto cries and wraps his arms around your waist, bringing you into his chest so he can grind his pelvis against your lower back. “This is all for you.” He purposely tries to seduce you, not understanding what the word subtle means, and you want to roll your eyes at his method. 

“Because you have practice in like twenty minutes, Kou! And you know Akaashi always comes in early! You think you’ll be able to cum in ten minutes?” You ask him and Boktuo nods like it’s the easiest question in the world.

“Are you really asking me this, (Y/N)?” He almost wants to scoff but instead kisses your neck. 

“It’s too risky,” You whine and Bokuto only tightens his grip on you.

“But me eating you out last week in our classroom, that wasn’t risky?” Bokuto accuses and you scoff while lightly slapping the side of his head.

“Don’t bring that up!” You cringe and Bokuto shakes his head.

“You really enjoyed it, and begged me to do it all day,” He sticks his tongue out and you reach back to cup him through his shorts, roughly fondling him as you sink to your knees.

“Yay!” 

“Shut up,” You hiss and start to pull down his shorts when you hear the familiar creek of the door opening. Instantly you rip your hands away from Bokuto and pretend to be looking at your shoe. 

“Oh, Bokuto, (Y/N), what are you guys doing here so early?” Akaashi asks curiously as he grabs the cart of volleyballs.

“Just tying Bokuto shoes.” You laugh nervously and Akaashi nods his head.

“Yeah, he sometimes needs help with that. Since you guys are here early you can help me set up the nets.” Akaashi points to the poles and you mentally groan as he walks away. 

Bokuto pouts at you when you walk towards the doors of the closet.

“Kou, I’m not sucking you off so stop looking at me like that.”

Kita Shinsuke

Kita is such a sweetheart like why would anyone want to tease my sweet baby like this

It would be great revenge though,,,,, to leave him with a rock hard boner before practice HAHAHA

Let’s say he ditches you for Atsumu or something…. Just suck him off right before practice and leave him like that, it would be great payback…. You’ll learn your lesson Kita!!!

I feel like it would be hard to convince him to let you suck him off in the closet,,, Kita just seems so responsible and level-headed, mature, like how could he let you suck him off in public?!

But then you sink to your knees and all his thoughts of restraint are GONE

It would seriously take some heavy convincing for this man to allow you to suck him off before practice

Like he needs to remain calm, and mentally prepare, before dealing with the clowns he calls a team, but one thought of your beautiful mouth wrapped around him and Kita is HOOKED

He really likes when you give him blowjobs like Kita,,,, becomes such a mess for you because it feels sooo good 

If you leave him high and dry,,, good luck…. He will literally plan how to get you back the second you leave

Kita does not care about the boner sticking out through his shorts, he is more hellbent on punishing you,,, even if he deserved it

“Petal, you don’t have to.” Kita tells you but you refuse to listen to him, having him already halfway in your mouth. “My sweet petal, you’re always so good to me.” He groans softly and grabs your hands with his, tangling his fingers with your own. 

Kita always lets you set the pace, he never tries to control you whenever you suck him off. 

You hum lightly and run your tongue along the underside of his cock, caressing every ridge and vein with your warm muscle. Kita loves hearing you moan, loves seeing the way spit pools out of your mouth at the size of his cock, everything you do leaves him utterly weak. 

His fingers squeeze yours and you smirk at how turned on he has become in such a short amount of time. A lightbulb flickers over your head and you purposely take him entirely in your mouth, ignoring the burn you feel in your throat. Kita lurchers forward, squeezing your hands so tightly that you nearly wince. You try to take him deeper, a personal challenge to see if you can touch your nose to his abdomen but before you can do so, you end up gagging. 

Kita immediately lets go of your hands, he cups your cheeks and pulls you off of him. Despite the need to cum at the sight of you looking so wrecked, he can’t help but worry about you.

“Petal, are you okay? You can’t just-“ Kita lets out a high-pitched moan as you take him entirely in your mouth once again, you’ve never heard him release a noise like that. It only fuels you to keep going even more. After you swallow around him once more, you let go and pull yourself off him to stand up to your feet. Kita looks utterly confused, and delectable with the way he is oh so spread out for you, you simply narrow your eyes at him. “My love?”

“Next time you want to ditch me for Atsumu, remember that I am the only one who can make you cum.” With one last glare you flip your hair over your shoulder and walk out the closet, leaving Kita with an uncomfortable ache between his thighs and a team to lead in less than five minutes. 

Kuroo Tetsurou

Kuroo is such a punk ass mf,,, he wouldn’t have to think twice about getting his dick wet before practice 

You… on the other hand, though, might need some convincing,,, which is no problem for Kuroo

Please his smooth-talking and sweet words will have you on your knees before he even finishes his sentence

I feel like Kuroo would purposely do stuff to get caught, not that he wants to be caught but he likes to rile you up,,,, he’ll moan extra loud or knock his head against the wall

He loves it whenever you get mad at him and slap his thigh or tightly grip the base of his cock as a punishment

Kuroo loves his punishments 

When you leave him high and dry for whatever reason, most likely because he deserves it, Kuroo will be so confused

“What do you mean no?” He’d pout and frown in a way that makes you want to finish him off for being so cute

But let’s be real, this freak will have no problem jerking off in the bathroom or something like he will finish in less than five minutes

So if you don’t finish him off then it’s no problem, he’d still be pissed though because he loves when you touch him but, he wouldn’t hold it against you 

Kuroo’s groans vibrate against the walls of the small storage room and you pinch his muscular thigh as a warning. Your irritating boyfriend simply sends you a cheeky grin before moaning at the way you suck on the tip of his dick. 

How you let Kuroo’s smooth words convince you to suck him off before practice, you don’t know, but you have a feeling you’re going to regret it. 

You move your mouth along his member, running your tongue along the underside of his cock, bobbing your head with purpose. Kuroo stares down at you, his teeth digging into his bottom lip and you know what he wants you to do. 

It is always so hard to fit all of him into your mouth, the ache in your jaw always punishes you whenever you try it but, you always push yourself to do it. This has to do with the way Kuroo will literally fall to his knees, the way you can feel his thighs shaking, whenever you take him down your throat and hollow your cheeks. 

He fucking loves it.

With one last deep breath, you squeeze your eyes shut before opening them and taking Kuroo down your throat. Kuroo chokes and his hazel eyes widen, his jaw falls open and he leans his head back against the wall. He looks so ruined, so captivated only by your mouth and it makes you feel all warm inside. 

“So good baby, so good.” He praises and smooths your hair over, you moan happily around him.

Much to your horror, you hear footsteps outside the closet. You glance at the door and notice Kenma sliding it open. The pudding head takes one glance at you before shifting his eyes to Kuroo, and with a disappointed shake of his head, he slowly slides the door close without so much as one word. 

“Kuroo, what the fuck!” You cringe and push yourself off of him, the hot humiliation floods over you. Of course, someone was going to see! 

“Babe, what?” He looks so utterly confused and you simply motion to the door, Kuroo didn’t even notice. You simply cover your face and hide in his chest, completely ignoring the way his cock twitches against your stomach. “You going to finish this or what?”

“NO!”

Oikawa Tooru

Oikawa is all talk, my favorite shit talker. He is THE shit talker of Haikyuu and not one person can beat him

I’m not taking any other arguments because they are all wrong~

Oikawa would literally be like ‘you want to help me get ready for practice?’ All cooly and suggestively but then the second you follow him into the locker room he screams

“W-what are you doing here?! (Y/N)?!” He’d be so shocked… you ….. in the boy’s locker room?! 

His precious s/o can not simply breath the disgusting boy air from the locker room and so Oikawa brings you to the storage closet 

“Did you not want a blowjob?” You’d have to bring it up or else Oikawa would be so confused, cue Oikawa’s head exploding

Oikawa.exc is not working

You’d have to convince Oikawa to let you suck him off because he would not be that into it,,, it’s in public and he doesn’t want to get caught! Oikawa has standards~ 

Of course, once you actually get to work and start sucking him off THEN he would be into it,,,, when you stop and leave he’d be like ‘where are you going?!’

Then you can simply tell him to get someone else to finish him off,,, to which he’d bite back and say that he would !!! Oikawa, Iwaizumi is not going to suck you, off I’m sorry.. not in this case >:-)

“(Y/N)!” Oikawa cries dramatically and you roll your eyes while wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “I didn’t finish,” He pouts and you nearly give in, but then you remember why you are so angry. You instead ignore Oikawa and place him back into his shorts, lightly patting his hard cock over the thin material. 

“Go ask one of your other girlfriends to do it.” You sneer and Oikawa places a hand over his chest, gasping in shock. “You always ditch me to go talk to them so why not just ask them to help you instead!” You continue to rant and Oikawa feels himself smirk.

“You’re jealous.” He points out and you snap your eyes to his, his warm brown eyes flirt with your own and you nearly slap him upside the head. 

“Wouldn’t you be?” You snap back and Oikawa raises an eyebrow. “Next time you want attention, I’ll just go talk to Hanamaki.”

Oikawa internally sighs, his own ego-deflating a bit when he realizes how upset you are. He never intends to hurt your feelings. 

“Baby,” He coos softly and wraps his hand around your bicep to bring you directly back into his chest. “my precious (Y/N), I’m sorry.” Oikawa apologizes softly while running his thumb along your arm in gentle circles. “You know I never want to hurt you, I should have noticed before.” 

You want to roll your eyes but you feel yourself faltering when Oikawa begins to lightly kiss your neck.

“You’re all I’ll ever need, don’t you realize that?” He asks while hovering his lips over your ear, moving one of his arms to grip your waist. Oikawa gently blows into your ear and grins when he notices the way you squirm. “You have no reason to be jealous, baby, I promise.” 

You timidly look up at your boyfriend, insecurity written all over your face, and Oikawa cups your face with his hands before placing a soft peck on your lips.

“I’m still not going to finish you off.” You snap and Oikawa pouts before kissing you once again. 

“And I love you for that~”

Sawamura Daichi 

Daichi seems like the type of responsible person who would not be into any sexual interactions in public but,,,,

I feel like if you asked if you could suck him off before practice, Daichi would be like ‘sure’ 

Only if you are alone, if there are other people around he would scold you and act like he wasn’t into it

It is not that hard to lure Daichi into the palm of your hand but make no mistake, he still has most of the control

Pretty much, all of the control 

So,,,, when you get up and leave, literally paying no attention to the fact that you left Daichi with the worst boner he’s ever had in his life- 

Daichi is not going to have it, he’d be so confused and I think he would be quick enough that he’d grab you and be like yo wtf 

It’s not hard to get out of his grasp though, just play with him a little bit and then catch him off guard and then RUN

Daichi would probably be one the funniest mfs in haikyuu to tease because he is so …. Idk I feel like his revenge punishments would really be worth it

Like this man will plan out everything for his precious baby, he will leave you withering and crying for more,,, all because you ran away before he got the chance to cum

“Daichi!” Sugawara whispers, his brown eyes wide in shock as he tries not to look at his friend’s shorts. Daichi only sighs before turning to his vice-captain, already knowing what he is going to say.

“What?” Daichi whispers back and the grey-haired boy subtly points to his shorts.

“You’re,” Sugawara starts but shakes his head to clear his thoughts. “You have a boner!” He whisper-yells and Daichi tilts his head back, trying not to audibly groan in annoyance. 

“I’m aware of that Sugawara.” Daichi sighs sadly and his friend looks appalled by his answer.

“You need to go fix it!” Sugawara scrunches his nose before pushing his friend towards the bathroom, sending a nearly passed out Asahi a sympathetic smile. “Go! Don’t come back until you’re normal!” 

Daichi sighs once again and sits down on the bench, irritation flowing through his blood at the fact that Sugawara quite literally benched him. He tries to think about something, something to make him so soft that he can never get hard again, but it doesn’t work. Not when the only thing he sees are your teasing eyes and sinful tongue worshipping his cock.

Is he really going to jerk off in the bathrooms? 

Daichi thinks and walks with shame as he heads to one of the stalls, his fist already pumping his length underneath his shorts. This is so disgusting. 

Yet, the painful tense feeling in his shorts is more powerful than the shame he is facing. Daichi closes his eyes and tries to remember the way your cheeks hollowed as you swallowed around him. He remembers the feeling of your hands cupping his balls and massaging them with your soft fingers. Daichi bites his lip to hide back the moan he faces after one particularly hard tug. 

Each jerk of his hand is associated with some thought of you. Your eyes welling up with tears, your moans, the way you gag around his cock, the way you stick your tongue out after he finishes to show him all the cum you collected. 

Fuck. Daichi comes all over his hand, thankfully catching most of it on the tissue paper he had beforehand. 

Now all Daichi can think about is getting through practice and punishing you so harshly that you’ll be begging him to stop.

Terushima Yuuji

Terushima would be so casual when asking for a blowjob, the boy has no shame

‘Hey babe, suck my dick after school.’ ‘Please, I’ll make it worth your while.’

Typical fuck boy methods but the only difference is that Terushima genuinely only wants you,,, You’re exclusive

He’d have to persuade you to suck him off,, he would never force you to do it or force it onto you like he will only let you suck him off if you want to do it

If you leave him without letting him finish, Terushima will fall into despair 

Like yeah, he can finish off in the bathroom but he doesn’t want to do that! 

He’s not mad at all, if anything you teasing him and leaving him dry like this makes the entire situation hotter

I feel like Terushima would be an expert at hiding his boner and he would not do anything to take care of it

He would practice with that boner and will carry the energy of wanting you so badly all the way until you finish him off

Terushima is the type to pull up to your house with such an innocent nice smile, say hi to your siblings and parents before completely destroying you in your room

“Ah, that’s it baby, so good to me.” Terushima groans loudly, he’s leaning against the wall with his legs parted slightly so that you can fit between them. His long fingers are threaded in your hair and he uses the grip he has to move your mouth along his cock. The pace he is fucking your face at is fast, every time you gag it just makes him even harder.

You’ve continuously told Terushima time and time again that if he thrusts into your mouth when he is already down your throat, you would stop. So far, he has listened. 

“Yes, shit.” His head falls back against the wall when your nose brushes against his pubic hairs, the feeling of your tight warm walls convulsing around him nearly makes Terushima cum. “That’s my girl.” He moans and you whine at the noise, something about Terushima’s moans make you clench around nothing, it makes you utterly weak. The vibrations from your mouth go straight to his cock and Terushima can’t help the way he bucks his hips, thrusting deeper down your throat. You gag loudly and shake your head, a few tears fall from your eyes at the painful sensation. 

Angrily, you push Terushima off of you and hold onto his thighs. You cough loudly to try and get rid of the sore feeling in your throat, but it doesn’t go anywhere. 

Terushima feels bad, he really does, but fuck he can’t stop looking at your swollen lips and puffy cheeks. 

“Babe, I’m sorry-“ He starts but you cut him off. 

“No, I told you what would happen if you did that again.” You roll your shoulders back as you stand up on your feet, flicking his forehead as soon as you get close enough to him.

“Come on,” Terushima grabs your hand and tries to bring you back to his chest but you simply slap his hand away. “I really am sorry.” He apologizes with a soft kiss to your lips, lovingly rubbing his thumb along the front of your throat.

“I forgive you but, I’m not finishing you off right now.” You tell him and turn around to walk out the door, leaving Terushima with his ultimate nightmare. 

Ushijima Wakatoshi

Ah, Wakatoshi my sweet baby bear~ Where do I begin >:-)

He’s so chill that if you offer to suck him off before practice he would say yes

I feel like he might lecture you about the risks or something just to talk to you LOL ,,, it’s so casual like he’s talking about what he’s eating for dinner that night... ‘if we get caught, we could get in trouble, I would not mind if you sucked me off though’

Yeah he will have no refusal when it comes to you offering oral like you do not need to ask him twice

He loves when you suck him off so much that he does not care if you have any ill intentions behind your movements 

This would be the ultimate tease move, the ultimate power move that would leave Ushijima BENT

Literally, you leaving him high and dry would have him leaving practice as soon as it ends and making a b-line to your room to fuck you until the ache between his thighs is gone

He will go feral and tbh,,,, yeah that’s what you wanted 

Truthfully he wouldn’t be mad at all, he would just be confused like genuinely lost. ‘I thought she wanted to suck me off, why did she leave?’

That day he’s going to make practice hell for the rest of the team, he has to get rid of his frustration somehow 

“Fuck,” Ushijima hisses through grit teeth, his jaw slightly agape as he holds your hair out of your face. Your innocent eyes stare up at him as you swallow around his aching cock, there is quite the contrast between the two tones. Ushijima’s chest heaves with every breath he takes and you squeeze your thighs together when you watch the way his eyes flutter shut. His entire chest is out on display for you and it makes you take him even deeper down your throat. 

At the sound of a bell ringing, you take a deep breath in through your nose before taking Ushijima all the way in your mouth. Your nose brushes his pubic hairs and from there you run your tongue along the base of his cock while swallowing all around him. Listening to Ushijima’s loud grunts and feeling his hands tighten their grip in your hair makes your stomach sting like heat is simmering within you and needs to be taken care of quickly. Despite this, and Ushijima’s refusal, you pull off of him.

Ushijima stares down at you, his pupils blown wide, as his chest continues to move like he had just finished running a marathon. You break eye contact with him to lick at your bottom lip, breaking the line of spit that had connected you to his hard cock. Ushijima’s breath stutters.

You teasingly cup him before placing back in his boxers, you lean forward to place a kiss on the boner poking out through his shorts. Your boyfriend grits his teeth at your movements. 

“You have practice babe, good luck.” With that, you stand up and place a kiss on the corner of Ushijima’s lips. Your boyfriend barely has time to even notice that you’re leaving, his brain running with thoughts of how you just sucked him off so well. 

He didn’t even get to cum.

A loud sigh leaves Ushijima’s lips as he stares down at his shorts, should he jerk off? He can’t just show up to practice like this. He tries to remember what Tendou had told him, think of something to turn him off, but he can’t stop thinking about your warm mouth. 

Fuck, what is he going to do now?

The next day all you heard about from Tendou was how hard Ushijima made them practice, the red head kept complaining about all the running they had to do. You couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit guilty and responsible for it.

~

Taglist.

@yams046 @why-am-i-sad-and-sleepy @xhanjisungiex @xxashshs @chaosamu @angelkogane @augustdearly @kunimwuah  @lovellucy @osamuonigiri @pearzuko @darksxder @macaronnv @nerdygremlin

[shorkbrian]

Anxious

Prelude - It took me three evenings to write this (EW that’s the longest I've ever taken) and it’s RLLY long (almost 10k) so be warned. The style is mean’t to be jumbled, grammatically incorrect, and awful, rushed, and incoherent. My day-to-day life process is like this but worse lol and I wanted to capture just the feeling of bad that exists. Have fun.

(Ps Kirishima is the subtlest of creeps here. Def a stalker, but good at lying, and reader is too gullible.)

Pairing - Yandere Kirishima X GN Reader

Warnings - anxiety, panic attack, non con, NSFW, idk the usual.

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/1qFMIjTe9esCDiytqUY19t?si=RrkIvlXMReyT6CYKEh6xdw

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Oh god, is that Pro-Hero Red Riot?

Your hands tremble as you lift your drink to your lips, take a shaky sip.

It feels too hot in here, is it hot? You scream internally.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Red Riot, your favorite Pro-Hero in the entire world, was currently standing in line at Starbucks, looking up at the menu with his big, dumb, handsome face. He was wearing his hero costume - meaning he was on-duty, abs out and mask on.

As usual, you had ordered your regular drink, immediately sat down (always the blue armchair by the window, the one with the little table next to it).  Normally you ignored each little tinkling of the bell above the door, the sound signaling another person entering the coffee shop. You just wanted to nurse your drink and look at stupid memes on your phone, try to gas yourself up for the day ahead, convince yourself that you would be able to get through whatever life decides to throw at you.

A particularly violent shake of the bell had your head snapping up, the loud noise startling you. 

And holy fuck.

Red Riot.

Your cheeks were burning as you lowered your eyes to your phone, knowing that the big man was moving up in line, then ordering, then probably moving to wait near the drink pickup.

Looking up was out of the question - you didn’t want to ogle the Hero and make him feel uncomfortable, or for him to catch sight of your stupid blushing. 

You almost dropped your drink the next time you raised it to your lips, your hands were so sweaty. 

And of course that little slip-up had your heart beating ever faster, embarrassed that you had almost made a mess all over yourself, self conscious that someone had seen, oh god, what if people were looking at you, thought you were dumb and couldn’t even drink correctly? Oh god.

You set your drink back onto the little table at your side. A quick glance upward (to check the clock, that’s where your eyes went) and you could see Red Riot out of the corner of your eye, smiling as he took a picture with a fan as they both waited for their respective drinks.

Wouldn’t that be cool, to get a picture with him? But oh, that would mean you’d have to stand up, stumble over awkwardly towards him. Could you leave your drink on the side table? Would your seat be taken before you got back?

The hero would probably be able to spot you from a mile away, see how weirdly you walk, how your body looked. The thought made you cringe; he was so muscled and fit and in-shape, he’d probably think you were fat, or maybe weak? He’d be disgusted, wouldn’t he.

If you managed to get close enough to ask him if he wouldn’t mind taking a picture with you, he’d have to hear your voice crack, see how you shook like a tiny chihuahua from nervousness, see how sweaty and flushed you were from the embarrassment of being alive, of being seen.

God, you hated yourself.

You could never approach the Pro-hero and ask for a picture. He’d see how revolting, how weird and nervous and pathetic you were.

Plus, you’d already talked to the barista to get your coffee, had walked to the coffeeshop all by yourself and committed yourself to the horrifying ordeal of being known and seen by society. You’d done enough today to make your anxiety skyrocket, your hands were already shaking so bad, it’s a miracle you hadn’t dropped your drink or your phone or done something stupid and embarrassing to call attention to yourself.

“Red Riot!” Your eyes flickered up at the barista shouting, saw Red Riot smile and compliment the barista as they handed over his drink, something large and brightly colored and sporting an ungodly amount of whipped cream on top.

Red Riot left the Starbucks, the bell above the door jingling just as violently as it had when he had entered - the man was enthusiastic about seemingly everything, even opening and closing a door.

That’s actually one of the reasons he was your favorite. Red Riot was so confident and self assured, beaming with positivity and kindness. It was clear to see that he loved his job, that he loved life. Of course, you had seen him have bad days - in a few of the interviews after big rescues or horrific fights, his smile seemed to waver a bit, his eyes getting misty as the casualties were mentioned.

But that just showed he was human. Sensitive.

You grabbed your drink again, grimaced as nausea washed over you in a gentle wave. You were such a nervous wreck. But Red Riot had left - the only people here now were the employees and the people waiting in line. You just prayed none of them would pay attention or take notice of you.

----

He was here again.

Holy fuck, he was here again!

This time you weren’t as nervous (a mild feeling of excitement could be felt), you could actually drink out of your Starbucks cup without shaking like a leaf.

The redheaded hero had gotten his drink already, once again something large and colorful and probably loaded with sugar.  But instead of leaving immediately, he moved to sit down and holy fuck - holy fuck he was walking right past you.

You didn’t want to look up, didn’t want to draw attention to yourself by moving - humans will subconsciously look towards movement, you knew that. But he walked further, you saw him sit down by the corner window, settling into the seat comfortably. He was wearing his hero outfit again, abs rippling as he leaned back, and out of the corner of your eye you could see him fiddling with his mask before taking it off and chucking onto the table in front of him.

Ah, so he was probably on a break.

Averting your eyes back to your phone, you tried to ignore his presence.  He was a human being, just like yourself, who deserved and probably appreciated his privacy. God knows, if you were in his shoes, you wouldn’t want fans to even think about you, much less look at you.

Minutes passed, maybe twenty? Thirty? But you had finished your drink. Now it was time to will yourself to your feet, to breathe, in, out. You were going to walk over to the trashcan, throw your drink cup away, and leave to walk back home.

Oh, but you were nervous.

You always felt nervous - this was a common occurrence, and each time you came here (you visited this Starbucks maybe twice a week)  there was always this fight with your anxiety.

People would look at you as soon as you stood up. Did you walk weird? Your body had weird proportions, people would be mocking you inside their heads as you walked. Your outfit wasn’t trendy, it didn’t fit your body right, you looked odd and out-of-place - that’s probably what people thought as soon as their eyes landed on you.

You’d get judged for your drink cup - the size, because people would probably think it was too big for somebody with your body. Or maybe too small? Would people think you don’t take care of yourself? 

Oh god, what if it slipped out of your hand as you were walking over? Even with it being empty, the noise of the cup hitting the floor would draw everyone’s eyes to you. They’d watch as you scramble to pick it up, and they’d probably think how clumsy and awkward and incompetent you were. 

And what if the trashcan was full? Would you carry your empty cup home with you? That would look weird, someone carrying an empty cup down the street. I mean, who does that? Well, you’d seen other people do it, watched them carry their drink until they reached a trashcan, and then throw it away. But what if there weren’t any public trashcans nearby? You’d look so odd, fumbling along trying so hard to walk normally, to not draw attention to yourself, to blend in with everyone.

Should you turn around to see if there was another trashcan in the Starbucks? Oh, but that might look stupid. The employees had seen you so often, you’d look like a fool for not knowing if there was another trashcan.

Ugh, and your walk. You have to focus on straightening your shoulders, keeping your back straight, moving your arms - just a little, not too much. Taking even steps, not walking with a heavy foot or making any stomping or scuffing sounds. 

There was so much to focus on, too much. And now you had been sitting here for five minutes, knuckles white as you gripped your empty drink cup. You looked like a moron.

You could do this.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

Remind yourself that people didn’t care, didn’t pay attention to all of the lame little things that you did. You anxiety was misplaced, you worried about things too much, and everything was fine.

You were okay, you could do this.

And so you stood, walked to the trashcan by the door (oh thank god, it was empty), and threw your cup away.  

You heard Red Riot saying bye to the employees, his cheery, upbeat voice as he laughed at something one of them said. Oh, had something been said about you? Were the employees and Red Riot laughing about what a disaster you were? 

No, you were just being nervous, that was your anxiety talking. Red Riot wasn’t that kind of person, and the employees weren’t either. You knew this. 

The door jingled as you opened it, and you heard footsteps behind you so you moved to the side after you had gone through, holding the door open for whoever was behind you.

“Thanks cutie!”

Red Riot was fixing his mask as he strolled past, and your head snapped up, flushing fiercely as you met his gaze. You smiled awkwardly, throwing up a feeble thumbs-up. 

Oh god, why did you do that?

Red Riot smiled back at you, giving his own exuberant thumbs-up. Well, at least he was doing it too. That made your anxiety quiet down a bit, emboldened by your favorite Pro-Hero.

You watched his broad back as he walked away, muscles flexing with each step. He really was a beautiful man, both inside and out.

----

The next time you went to Starbucks, you reached the door right as someone else did (even though you saw them walking towards the door, even though you slowed down your pace so they would reach the door first and would go inside so you wouldn’t have to do that awkward dance of who-gets-the-door and who-goes-inside-first).

But they pierced through the awkwardness, yanked the door open for you and stepped to the side and motioned for you to go in first.

It was Red Riot.

He was wearing casual clothes today, ripped jeans and a dark hoodie, but you’d recognize that spike red hair anywhere, those gleaming shark teeth too.

You nodded your thanks quickly, hurrying through the door so he wouldn’t have to stand there for long. Immediately you headed for the bathroom, not wanting to have the Pro-Hero standing in line behind you. He was intimidating, but in the nicest way possible. You were just afraid there was something about you that he would think to be weird, or odd, or out-of-place. 

Better to just avoid the situation altogether. 

When you finished your business (you were a nervous pee-er), you ordered your drink, deciding to be bold this time and try something different from your usual choice.  It was the little things, the small little bits of life that made you anxious - those were the things that you tried to overcome. I mean, life’s all about the small victories, right? And hopefully if you built up enough small victories, you could have a really big victory someday, like telling your favorite barista that you liked her hair, or picking a different seat to sit in, or trying to make a friend with another customers as you waited in line.

But for today, the small victory was stepping outside of your comfort zone just a little bit, getting something new that you weren’t used to.

You ordered, waited patiently for your drink to be made, and then turned to go settle down in your blue armchair by the window.

And Red Riot was sitting in your seat.

Fuck.

Your hands were suddenly sweaty, and you felt the familiar pang of an upset tummy. You were so tired of being nervous, of freaking out every single time there was a small change that you weren’t aware of, or if something happened that you couldn’t control.

There was an armchair opposite the one you always chose - also blue, but not as comfortable and certainly not with a good view out the window. It directly faced your usual spot, but in all your time coming here, no one had ever sat in it. A first you had just figured it was uncomfortable, but as you came here more and more, you figured that the nook was probably for couples rather than individual coffee drinkers. 

The time you visited was a bit odd, eight PM, a few hours before closing. But it was the least crowded at this time, and the sun was barely setting, and it was the perfect time for you to be unbothered and by yourself.

But there was Red Riot, invading your (unofficial) space.

But it was okay, you could just sit somewhere else.

It felt weird, sliding onto one of the chairs at a small table. You were so used to your usual, safe routine that this threw you off. You were shaking so bad that you missed your mouth on your first try of sipping at the straw. What an idiot. 

You had to try again, holding the straw this time, before you could actually taste the drink.

Selfishly, you wished Red Riot had chosen a different chair.  But he was entitled to sit anywhere he liked, and it was obvious he enjoyed this particular Starbucks. Judging by the familiarity with the employees, he was becoming a regular like yourself.  You only came once or twice a week, but he probably got his drink fix more often than you did.

Hopefully he didn’t think you were stalking him.

Oh god, what if he thought you were stalking him? How would you show that you weren’t stalking him? Come on a different day? At a different time? But you were here first, this was your routine, and that was your chair!

But man, you really didn’t want to make the Pro-Hero uncomfortable - he’d probably had a few crazy fans who had stalked him before.

Sighing, you sipped slowly at your drink, pulling out your phone to look at memes and text a few to your friends. You could still go about your routine, even if you were sitting in a different spot.

----

You ran into him at the grocery store.

It was in the produce aisle, where you were trying to decide between red apples or green, weighing the pros-and-cons of each decision in your head. You probably looked like an idiot, standing in front of the apples and doing nothing but staring at them, but you needed to ignore that right now.

“Yo, Starbucks buddy!”

The shout rang out across the produce section, and you flinched, suddenly drawn out of your apple-selection process. 

It was late, almost ten PM, who and why was shouting in the grocery store??

You weren’t one to turn and stare, but you were curious, and surely whoever shouted like that wouldn’t mind a few questioning looks thrown their way. 

And so you glanced over your shoulder, expecting to see a bunch of teenage boys greeting each other, or maybe a man saying hi to his friend.

Red Riot was excitedly waving at you.

Your brain blanked. Immediately, you turned your head, trying to see if there was someone else he was waving at. But there was no one around you - hell, there wasn’t even anyone else in the produce section except for you and the hero. 

So he had to be waving at you.

Turning your whole body this time, you gave an awkward imitation of his wave, and let out a soft, croaky “Hey…” as the big man walked closer. 

He had a big dumb smile on his big dumb face, and as he reached you, it grew even wider.

“Starbucks buddy! I didn’t mean to make you flinch, my bad. I know I can get a little loud sometimes, haha.” He stopped right in front of you, a grocery basket filled to the brim with meat and a few vegetables clutched on one of his large hands. God, he was so strong, you would be struggling to carry such a heavy basket, and here he was lugging it around like it had nothing but a loaf of bread in it. Red Riot could probably squish your skull to a pulp with just his hand, goddamn he was big.

You shrugged at his words, desperately willing your brain to work and to think of something smart and eloquent and good-to-say. “It’s uh, it’s-it’s fine. I’m just y’know, one of those nervous people, y’know?”

Wow. 

Good job brain.

But the Pro-Hero smiled gently, putting his basket down on the ground. 

“Yeah, I kinda figured.”

Wait, what?

“I’ve seen you a couple times at Starbucks, the one on Grant and 1st. You always seem… well, nervous whenever I see you. At first I just thought it was because I was there, cause y’know, people have different reactions to seeing heros out in public.” 

Your eyes were big, you felt your face erupt in an embarrassed fire, and your hands were fucking sweaty. Why couldn’t you have been born like, a blade of grass? A tree?  Some non-sentient object that didn’t have to worry about thoughts or talking or how other people perceived it?

Red Riot continued, “But I’ve seen you a couple of other times; once on the subway, a few times at that park on the north side of town, haha, you really get around, dont’cha?” 

Ah yes, now would be a good time for something to happen, like a plane to crash into the building and kill both of you instantly. Or some emergency that required his immediate attention, one that was so big and urgent that he would forget about you instantly.

His red eyes were drawn to your leg, which you were subconsciously wiggling like a toddler. His eyes softened, and his voice lowered an octave. “You always seem a bit… anxious.  And I know that feeling, believe it or not. I used to be really insecure and nervous when I was younger-“

Oh, great. Now he was just calling attention to the fact that you were acting like a fucking child, that you were a fully-grown adult that couldn’t handle being out in the world because it was too nerve-wracking. Were you really that easy to read? 

“-but I had some awesome people to help me through it. My moms were always really supportive, and they took such great care of me. It was rough for a little bit, but I learned how to be confident and how to strut my stuff and it’s helped me to help others. It’s sorta why I became a hero, actually.”

You smiled again, nodding. That made sense - each and every hero had a reason for why they wanted to help the general public, and of course Red Riot’s reason would be pure and inspiring.

“But uh, anyways! I just saw you shopping and thought I’d say hi to my Starbucks buddy. I was hoping you’d come and sit by me the other day, when I sat in the place you usually sit? But I understand that it’s sorta intimidating to approach a hero, even one in civilian clothing.”

Shoot, so he’d wanted you to sit by him that day? And here you were thinking that he had unintentionally commandeered your seat and was just trying to be left alone. God, you were so stupid. 

“Oh, I’m-I’m sorry!” You stuttered out, face hotter than the actual sun. “I didn’t realize! I figured you always have people trying to get an autograph or a picture and you probably just want privacy, and I thought that maybe you just wanted to sit there and hadn’t gotten a chance to because I always sit there, which honestly that’s such a selfish thing for me to do - I should probably try to vary the places I sit so I don’t like-“

“Ah, don’t worry about it! You’re fine, okay? Trust me.” Red Riot patted your shoulder (yup, he could definite squeeze your head like a grape), before leaning down to grab his basket off the floor.

“Oh, well uhm, t-thank you, Mr. Red Riot” You resisted the urge to bow.

“Oh!” The man exclaimed, looking slightly surprised, “Call me Kirishima, none of that “Red Riot” stuff, alright?”

Confusion overtook you. “Uh, that’s only for your friends, civilians should respect the heros and call them by their chosen names.” At least, that’s what you had always been told.

But Red Riot just grinned. “Well, what’s your name?”

With a slight shake in your voice, you told him.

“I know your name now, so I officially deem the two of us as friends!” With his free hand, he patted you on the shoulder again. You shivered, and Red Ri-Kirishima seemed to notice.

“You alright (Y/N)? Didn’t hit you too hard, did I?”

“No, no… I’m just… kinda weird about touch I guess.” That was an understatement. You were so incredibly sensitive, every light touch felt searing, hugs always were too much sensation, you shuddered even thinking about cuddling - you were just too sensitive to touch.

Red-Kirishima stepped back, holding his hand up apologetically. “Oops, my bad. I kinda noticed that about you too, I should’ve remembered.”

At your questioning glance, the man hurried to continue. “Well, y’know, I saw that couple bump into you on the subway, and you looked like you were gonna cry. And then, like, at Starbucks you make an effort to not touch the barista’s hands when they give you your change.”

Great, so that was another thing you were obvious and weird about. Just great. You felt embarrassed that Kirishima had noticed that about you so easily, but you guessed being observant was part of his job. 

“Well, I’m gonna go check out now, unless you need help with your groceries?” The man motioned to your barely-filled basket, and you shook your head.

“No, it’s-it’s okay. I can handle this, but thank you.”

Kirishima gave you a thumbs up. “Alright, sounds good. Although, are you planning on walking home?”

You shook your head yes, prepared to receive the “its not safe” talk.  You knew it wasn’t safe, but it was just a few blocks, and you had made the walk to your apartment a million times, plus, you couldn’t afford to pay for an uber or a cab.

“It’s pretty dark out there, mind if I walk you home? I’m a hero and all, I promise I’m not going to try and steal your wallet.”

And there it was.  For someone as nervous as yourself, walking alone in the dark really was no issue. Maybe it’s cause you weren’t afraid of someone trying to hurt you. You looked poor, you were ugly as fuck, and it was only a couple of blocks.

‘It’s okay Mr. R-Kirishima, I don’t mind. I’ll probably be here for a bit longer, don’t worry about me.”

He probably had other things to tend to, and even if he didn’t, you weren’t important enough to make a Pro-Hero go out of his way to walk you home. You were such an inconvenience already, it would just make you feel worse about yourself. And would you have to make small talk as the two of you walked? 

Would he try and insist upon carrying your groceries? Would he want to walk up to your apartment floor with you? Or would he say goodbye in the lobby? Once again, best to just avoid the situation altogether. 

Plus, you knew the hero was just trying to be polite. He probably didn’t actually want to walk you home.

Kirishima tried to offer again, but you turned him down, shaking your head, self-consciously drawing your shoulders up. You probably looked so stupid, like a scared little dog that had gotten yelled at. But it was a nervous reaction, and it felt better than just trying to stand there like a block.

Kirishima smiled gently, told you to have a safe night, and then left to go check out.

You turned back to the apples, trying to focus back on which color you should get, stuck between red, or green.

----

The next time you visited Starbucks, your regular spot was once again empty. It was almost a relief, seeing that you wouldn’t have to figure out if Kirishima wanted to talk today or not, if he wanted you to sit by him, or if he was just trying to make small talk back at the grocery store.

So you settled in, warm hot chocolate in hand as you looked out the window, watched cars whiz by on the street, rain puttering down softly.

And then Kirishima was bursting through the door, sending the door bell jingling in a frenzy, rain patterned heavily over his jean jacket, His eyes immediately found you, and his face lit up in a smile.

“(Y/N)!!!!”

You gave a little wave, watching as Kirishima smiled cheerily at you, before quickly ordering a drink. Immediately, the muscled redhead came to sit down in the armchair opposite you, panting a little bit.

“Wooo, I had to run here, started raining on me!”

“I can tell.” You let out a small laugh, noticing how his spiky hair was drooping from getting rained on. 

“Glad to see you got home okay the other night.” The male blurted, leaning forward so he could strip off his jacket.

You paused. “What do you mean?”

He flashed you a grin, throwing his jacket over the back of the chair. “Well, you’re here, aren’t you?”

Ah, he had a point.

His name was called, and Kirishima jumped up and went to pick up his drink before plopping back down in the armchair with a sigh.

“So, (Y/N), you ever been to the ocean before? All this water, the streets might be an ocean by the time we leave.”

Kirishima proceeded to launch into a story about the time he went to the ocean with his buddy Bakugou, how they had swam with turtles and even got to see a whale.

You were glad he was doing all the talking, letting you sit back and listen while you sipped at your hot cocoa. There was no pressure for you to talk, no pressure for you to try and fumble for the right words. And it was nice, seeing the big hero be so excited and animated, gesturing with his hands and almost spilling his drink all over himself.

As you listened to him talk, you settled back further into the armchair contentedly. He was a nice person to be around, you could see yourself being friends with him, if he didn’t mind.

——

And friends you did become.

It wasn’t long before the two of you exchanged numbers - Kirishima had wanted to send you a picture of a dog he had seen the other day while he was out patrolling.

The two of you texted memes to each other, cute pictures of animals, and even though your anxiety was loud and demanding and convinced you that you were bothering the man, Kirishima always assured you that was never the case.

He always seemed to be able to tell when you were feeling anxious, when nervousness settled deep in your bones and refused to leave. You slowly began to notice that with Kirishima, your anxiety was quieter. It was easy to let the exuberant man to take the lead, for him to make decisions, whether to walk up and ask to pet the cute dog or not. It was freeing in a way, letting your new friend take your anxiety and make it be quiet. 

After all, no one gave you a second glance, now that you were trailing behind Pro-Hero Red Riot. 

Kirishima was such a character, goofy, cheerful, and always sporting a sunny disposition. His casual fashion consisted of the most god-awful color combinations and mixed patterns. It wasn’t uncommon for the man to bounce towards you in greeting, wearing neon green crocs, dark blue overalls that were plaid, and a head-ache inducing black-and-white psychedelic shirt. Somehow he made it all work, and didn’t look odd or out of place.

You admired him, truly. You wished you could have his confidence, his attitude and bouncy personality. If you had confidence like that, you could probably do anything. As it stood right now, you could barely approach someone on the street and ask to pet their dog.

It had been so embarrassing, walking with Kirishima down the street and listening to him talk between gulps of a bright pink slushy. You spotted a woman walking a dog on the other side of the street, a big dog, fluffy and sweet-looking and happily walking along it’s owner, stopping to sniff at each plant that grew in the cracks of the sidewalk.

“Cute, I wish I could pet that dog.” You interrupted Kiri’s story, gazing wistfully at the dog. 

Kirishima paused, swiveling his head to see what dog you were talking about. Once he did, his eyes lit up, and he grabbed your hand. “Lets go pet it then!” But when he tried to pull you forward, you balked, pulling your wrist backward. 

“I-I can’t, it’s….. I don’t know, It’s fine, I’ll stay here.”

Kirishima raised an eyebrow, studying you as he took another slow sip of his slushy. You had your own slushy, a significantly smaller size than the beefy Pro-Hero’s own giant cup.  

“(Y/N), it’s okay - I’ll do all the talking, ‘kay?”

He could tell that the thought of talking to the owner, asking to pet their dog, was making you nervous. What if they said no? What if they thought you were being rude? Would the dog not like you? Would the owner think you looked funny? What if they were hurrying somewhere?

But if Kirishima did all the talking….. maybe you could manage trailing behind him, only emerging from his shadow if the owner said yes to petting their dog. 

You gave the big man a weak smile, nodding gingerly before getting yanked forward, Kirishima already speed-walking towards the lady.

He asked, the lady said yes - you got to pet the absolute cutest dog ever. It was heaven. 

You were grateful for Kirishima - shyly told him as much. If you were by yourself, you would have noticed the cute dog, but done nothing about it, just wished you had the courage to approach and ask if you could pet it.

But with Kiri? He made anything possible.

----

You were worried you were annoying him.

There was no evidence, but still, wouldn’t it be annoying to have an anxious little shadow?  One that shook and stuttered and could barely go to the grocery store without freaking out and having a panic attack? Your fears and feelings weren’t entirely unfounded, I mean,  there were millions upon millions of possible outcomes of any one action. Unfortunately, your brain liked to focus only on the negative options.

But Kirishima never got tired, never got frustrated with you. He didn’t mind ordering for the both of you when you got snacks at a fast-food place during long afternoons. He didn’t mind taking up extra space with his personality, being loud and brash and drawing attention to himself when you felt like everyone was watching you, waiting for you to make a stupid mistake. 

Kiri seemed to like walking you home, helped you check your windows and in the closet and under the bed (not for people, but what if there was some eldritch monster that lurked just out of sight?). He never made fun of you for your feelings or fears, just gently listened and then tried to help you deal with them.

He even got you to be somewhat comfortable with making silly little mistakes in public. One time the man tripped on thin air, spilling warm coffee all over you and himself. Immediately he burst out laughing at his own clumsiness, apologizing between giggles as he heaved himself off the floor and went to go grab napkins.

If you had spilled a drink on him and yourself, you would’ve been asking Siri where the nearest cliff was. But you realized, the same way that you weren’t worried, and how it wasn’t that big of a problem that your shirt was now soaked with sweet coffee and sticking to your skin, Kirishima probably wouldn’t care if you spilled anything on him.

After all, it was an honest mistake.

The big man was helping you to learn how to be more comfortable in the world. But still, the creeping suspicion that he was just being kind to you out of sheer politeness was forefront in your mind. 

So you came up with a question, practiced asking it in the mirror, took several days to build up your confidence to ask Kirishima.

“Do you actually want to be friends with me?”

And sure, that might be a forward question. But you valued honesty, had told him so a few times when he asked you to rate his outfit on a scale from 1-10 (usually it was a solid 10 - his personality making the outfit shine) you tried not to lie to others, and expected the same courtesy from them.

The two of you were in the park, resting on one of the benches after walking around and looking at the different plants (one of your favorite activities, no matter how lame). And now was as good a time as ever, so you popped the question, barely stuttering once.

Kirishima was silent for a bit, and you were almost afraid of looking up at him. The truth would come out now - how he just saw a pathetic little civilian and felt so much pity for them that he decided to be their friend. You were just a burden to him, how could you ever be anything else?

When you dared to look up at the big redhead, the intensity in his gaze had you leaning towards the side nervously, away from the strength of all his attention focused on you.

“(Y/N)…. becoming friends with you was - it’s been the best decision I’ve ever made in my life.” His voice held such sincerity, his face open and honest. You recoiled from the statement, uncomfortable with the compliment. That had to be a lie, he was just saying that to make you feel better. You were so pathetic and weak that other people had to pretend that you were better than you actually were to avoid hurting your feelings. You wished you never existed. Why did you even ask him that question in the first place? There was no way that someone as nice as Kirishima would actually tell you how worthless and pitiful you were.

Large hands grabbed your own, and you jumped. Kirishima’s hands were warm, scarred and calloused, yet soft in their grip as they gently squeezed your own hands. You tried not to flinch at the contact. 

“I know that you don’t believe me, but you should. You know-“ One of his hands went to run through his hair, tousling through it’s straight, un-gelled style, before returning to your hand. “-I was pretty lonely before I met you. Like, I had my squad - Bakugou and Mina and Denki and Sero…. But it just….. There was something missing.”

Kirishima leaned close to you, your sides pressing together, his red eyes trying to catch your own. You were too shy, had to look off to the side.

“There was someone missing. And when I saw you, it felt…. Everything just clicked. I was missing you.”

You could feel his breath fanning against the side of your flaming hot face. It was uncomfortable. He was lying, he had to be. He was just trying to help you be confident in yourself, so he wouldn’t have to baby you and hold your hand and help you do simple things like ordering food or going for walks and not worrying about what people thought of you.

He was just being nice.

For some reason, you felt your throat clog up, felt the spicy sting of tears building up. Why did you feel like crying? You weren’t exactly in tune with any of your other emotions, only paid attention if it was anxiety or fear.  

A thumb rubbed over your knuckles soothingly (it burned), and the next thing you knew you were being enveloped in a bear hug, Kirishima’s arms crushing you into his chest, his pecs pressing against your face. 

Goddamn, he was built as fuck.

You tried to keep still, not squirm away from his touch like a child. You were an adult, you could handle a little bit of discomfort over being touched.

Kiri sighed. “I like being around you (Y/N). You don’t judge me for my mistakes, you accept them - you accept me. You uh, you make me happy dude, like, really happy.”

You chuckled a little bit at the redheads use of the word “dude”. Only a meathead could turn a sappy moment on it’s head by using the word “dude”. Still, you liked the way Kirishima talked, from the excited chatter when he was talking about something he liked, to the slow, comforting honey when he was being sincere and intimate, like now.

At the same time, your heart felt tight, waiting for the inevitable but that was sure to come. For the redhead to explain that he enjoyed your company but he was just being polite to a nervous civilian who couldn’t fend for themselves. You fun to hang out with but it was only because you made him look better, cooler and manlier because he was nice to someone as pathetic as you.

The but never came. You waited and waited, but Kirishima just kept the slow rhythm of his thumb rubbing over your knuckles, kept your face pressed into his chest and an arm wrapped around your body. You didn’t know what to do. 

Should you pull back? Your throat felt tight again. Kirishima was lying to you, he had to be. There wasn’t any way that someone would actually enjoy you as a person.

You pulled back from the warmth of his body, pulled your hand away from his. “I don’t….. I want honesty Kirishima. Please? Lies hurt more than the truth, please. I’m not a good person, I’m pathetic and nervous and shy, and I’m too loud sometimes, and my body looks weird, and I’m ugly and disgusting, and-“

“(Y/N), stop.” His voice thundered, cutting you off. Immediately, you fell silent, chest tightening, gaze falling to your lap. He was right. He didn’t need to hear all your insecurities, they were already clear to see. You were such a drag on his life, he probably hated having to deal with you, having to see you.

“Kiri, I’m not uhm-“ Your voice was wavering. “-I’m not feeling so great, I think I’m gonna head home.”

As you stood, so did the redhead. “Please don’t feel obligated to walk me home, I know it’s way out of your way.” He probably hated every second of it, probably insisted just to be polite. Even now, Kirishima was beginning to protest, grabbing at your hand. You pulled back, eyes fixed on the ground.

“Kiri, please.” You whispered, tears threatening to fall. You hated yourself. You hated yourself so much, your chest hurt, your ears felt full, everything felt too heavy and bad - there weren’t even any words to explain it. You just wanted to go home and cry, sob into a pillow.

Kirishima stayed put, probably watching you walk away from the park. God, you hoped he wasn’t, you walked so weirdly. Why couldn’t you just disappear?

——

You tried your best to disappear. 

You did the bare minimum, turning in assignments an hour before they were due, half-assing them. You hardly ventured out of your room, only to grab water or to use the bathroom.

Neighbors kept knocking on your door, probably the couple in the apartment opposite you, asking for a cup of sugar so they could make cookies, or wanting to tell you that your mail downstairs was getting full. But being the person you were, you were far too nervous to go answer the door. You were probably annoying people. It would just be better for the world if you weren’t in it, wouldn’t it?

Kirishima kept trying to text you, call you (Even though he knew you couldn’t pick up - calls terrified you), trying to coax you to go on a walk with him, to come get coffee or a slushie with him when he finished working. You brushed him off with lame excuses, telling him you were sick, backtracking when he said he was coming over with soup and movies. You didn’t feel well enough for company. 

Still, the man kept texting you several times a day, then only a few times, and now it was down to just once a day. In one corner of your mind, it hurt. The rest of your mind knew that it was for the best, knew that his life was going to be better because you weren’t going to be there bothering him. 

His texts consisted of simple messages now, ones you felt bad not responding to, but if you did respond, you hated yourself for the rest of the day. You sucked.

“(Y/N), look at this dog!” *IMAGE ATTACHED*

Cute.

“Yo, you wanna come get something to drink at our place? They have a deal on coffee today!”

Sorry Kiri, I’m not feeling too good today. You should go get a drink though, have fun!

“I saw some people rollerskating in the park, we should try that!”

Yeah.

“Would you wanna go for a walk sometime?”

I don’t think so, I’m pretty busy right now. You should go and get sunshine though, you deserve it!

“We need to go to our Starbucks soon, I need COFFEE haha”

(:

“Gonna ever come see where I work? I can show you my office, it’s super cool!”

“(Y/N), you doing okay?”

“I miss you.”

----

You woke up to the sound of your neighbors (or maybe the complex manager?) knocking on your door.  Anxiety filled you, palms immediately becoming clammy, so you fumbled around your bed, searching for your earbuds. Maybe if you could listen to music, you could calm down? Sometimes that worked, sometimes not. It really depended on how worked up you were.

Luckily you found them, quickly stuffing them in your ears as you queued music up on your phone. The knocking faded out as music filled your ears, but your anxiety still persisted. You curled up onto your side, hugging a pillow to your chest, almost on the verge of tears from nothing more than a few knocks at your door. You were such a burden to society.

It took a minute, but your heart stopped racing, palms stopped sweating, and you fell back asleep. You were so tired of being awake.

----

You awoke a second time to hands carding gently through your hair. It felt weird for a brief second, but you just ignored the feeling - until you remembered that you lived alone, and the front door was supposed to be locked. 

Squeaking in panic, you shot up, eyes wide, scrambling back into the corner of your bed, clutching the blanket to your chest. 

Kirishima blinked at you, hand still hovering over where your he’d had previously been. He was sitting on the edge of your bed, shoes off, bare feet on the floor.

Your eyes were still wide with fear, chest heaving with panic, but you managed to rip out your earbuds. “Kirishima? How-how did you get in?!? What are you….” You trailed off, tugging your blanket closer around your body as you realized that you were in your pajamas. They weren’t provocative, nor exposed any skin, but they drowned your form, were probably stained and most likely dirty, and you definitely looked awful. But back to the issue at hand, how did Kiri get in your apartment?

The man in question gave a dorky little wave, lips quirking up ever so slightly. 

“(Y/N), hey! I haven’t seen you in so long!” He paused for a second, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer, more serious. “I missed you… I was kinda worried.”

“But how are you- I mean…. inside?” You stuttered, completely flustered.

“Oh, I talked to the complex manager, said I was a family member who was really worried about you. Showed him how you haven’t been answering my texts…. I was really worried (Y/N). You were giving such weird replies to my texts, and then you stopped answering completely, and no one answered the door whenever I knocked.”

Wait, that was him knocking? All those times?

You were going to jump out the window. 

“Kiri… I didn’t mean to worry you, I just… You shouldn’t be worried about me.”

“Why not? I care about you, I… I wanted to see you.”

It was time to be honest, say the things that were painful to say. The truths that hurt your heart, but needed to be said. Otherwise, Kirishima just wouldn’t get it.

“Kiri, I’m not-I’m not worth your worry. I don’t deserve it. I’m a nervous, depressed wreck, who can’t even open a door or answer the phone. You’re-you’re being nice to me cause you’re a good person. I don’t think I should be… well, like, around you. I just-I bring you down, and you have to do stuff for me and reassure me and I’m such a burden. Please just, I don’t know, please just don’t give me any more attention. I’m so stupid and gross and you should be friends with someone who isn’t….. isn’t like me.”

You finished your rant, almost breathless, choked up, feeling ready to cry.

Silence reigned between the two of you, everything quiet except for the sound of your breathing and the rhythmic clicking of your fan.

It was uncomfortable. But you’d said your piece. It’d be weird if you said anything else, right? Should you say something else? Was he going to hate you for wasting his time? Holy crap, Kirishima is gonna hate you for wasting his time, for not telling him that at the beginning, when he first got to know you.

“(Y/N)-“ The sound of Kirishima’s soft, low voice made your head snap up, up to his face. He was looking at you, red eyes dark and large and filled with… pity? Sadness? “-I don’t even know how to tell you how wrong you are about that.”

The blanket shrouding your body was quickly pulled away, Kirishima discarding it to the side so he could shuffle closer to you, wrap you in one of his signature death-grip hugs. You were quickly pulled into his arms, the large man hunched over you as he squeezed you tight. It didn’t feel good. You wished he would remember that you didn’t like to be touched.

“I was pretty sure of my feelings before… well, before you asked if I wanted to be friends with you. And truthfully, I wasn’t exactly honest with you.” Your heart gave the tiniest squeeze. You knew he had been lying to you, but yeah, it did kinda hurt to hear him admit it. 

“I kinda wanna be more than friends with you, actually.”

His hold on your body loosened, pulling back so he could look at your face. Your ugly, about-to-cry, gross face. You tried to turn away, pull out of his grip and find your blanket and crawl underneath it and stay there until you died. There was no way he was coming onto you - you weren’t good enough for him. He was Kirishima, Red Riot, pro hero, sunshine of the world, manliest and strongest guy out there.

And you were just….

You.

Kirishima didn’t let you move away. He grabbed your arms, pulled you up a bit so you were at his level. “I’m serious about this. I know you don’t believe me, all that anxiety and nervousness trying to lie to you, but….” A quick glance at his face showed the redhead to be blushing. “I’ve wanted to be more than friends from the moment I first saw you.”

Exasperated, almost angry at this point (he was lying), you scoffed, wiggling in his grip to signal that you wanted to let go. 

“Kiri, I held a door open for you, it was nothing special. I’m ugly and lame and I panic over the slightest things, stop lying to me and saying that I’m someone worth your time.” Surprised, Kirishima loosened his grasp on your arms, and you moved away from him to sit on the edge of the bed. “I could never be worth your time.”

Was silence becoming a trend between the two of you? Apparently, because Kirishima didn’t say anything, just crawled over and sat down next to you. The big man was hardly ever silent, always talking about this, that, or the other. You were just a pro at messing things up, weren’t you?

A moment longer of sitting awkwardly in silence. You couldn’t take it anymore, you wanted to be able to cry about your shameful existence in peace, without having to entertain Kiri’s pity and lies.

“Can you….. Can you-you go…. Please?” You whispered, hugging your arms around your body. Oh yeah, you had forgotten you were in your gross, oversized pajamas. Just another thing for you to feel bad about.

Kirishima didn’t move.

Afraid he hadn’t heard you, you turned bright red, what an idiot - you can’t even speak loud enough to be heard. You stuttered as you started to repeat your request, but Kirishima cut you off.

“Why can’t you see?” He turned to you. “You’re the most lovely thing, I want to be around you all the time. Why can’t you see that you’re the most wonderful person in the world?”

Horrified, you reeled back. He was just pushing more lies. You felt so uncomfortable, you hated this, you wanted him to stop. “That’s-that’s just some fantasy Kiri…. I’m awful. Please, just go-“

“No.”

No? His voice sounded different, harsh and filled with authority. You looked at your feet, settled against the bare floor. You just wanted to sleep, and sleep, and never have to wake up. Why did being a human have to be so hard? 

Might as well let the big redhead say his piece, make you feel worse about yourself. Then you could shove him out the door and spend the next week sobbing yourself sick.You felt bad, you couldn’t even explain your own emotions, put a name to this feeling that was painful and clawed at your chest like it was trying to rip you apart.

“You aren’t understanding me (Y/N). That’s no fantasy of mine - that’s reality.” A large hand grabbed your chin softly, turning your face towards Kiri’s. “Whenever I come up with a fantasy that involves you, I end up fucking my fist ’til I go raw.” 

The admission made you stutter, and you hadn’t thought it was possible for you to blush harder, but here you were - twelve shades redder than the reddest tomato. 

Kiri didn’t give you a chance to breathe. “I missed you so much, you don’t even realize. I could compliment you until I go blue in the face, but you’re so shy and nervous and adorable, you’d never, ever believe me.”

Well, that much was true. At least he knew you well.

“So instead, I’m just gonna show you how much you mean to me.”

Soft lips met your own, a hand fisting into your hair and twisting your head back to make kissing you easier for Kiri. You couldn’t even think, barely had presence of mind to push at the solid man, hitting his chest. You felt ugly, and gross, and stupid and weak, was this some sort of prank? This had to be some sort of prank. There’s no way Kirishima could actually be attracted to you.

Your mind was drawn to the present when a sharp blossom of pain emanated from your lip. Kiri pulled back, a single drop of blood running down his chin as he stared at you, your foreheads almost touching.

“Don’t get in your head, I want you here. Don’t think, just feel.” 

You wanted to say something, to open your mouth and ask him again to leave. He shouldn’t be kissing you, he should be kissing someone prettier, stronger, someone who had their life together. 

You wanted to protest, but you were being pushed onto your back on the bed, Kiri’s large, calloused hands grabbing at your limbs and bodily moving you however he saw fit despite your squirming.

“Kir-stop-stop touching! Don’t, please, I’m-I’m so gross-“

His lips were on yours again, swallowing your cries as he moved the two of you around on the small bed until you were splayed out underneath him. He was moving so quickly, with such confidence and self-assuredness that you couldn’t keep up. His hands were starting to squeeze at your waist, his thighs bracketing your own as the big man got comfortable over you, leaning down to avoid breaking the deep, passionate kiss.

Your lungs were burning.

You had to pull your face to the side, pushing at Kiri’s shoulders as you did so, making panicked noises as you tried (and failed) to take in air through your nose. How the hell was Kiri holding his breath this long? 

The man finally got the hint, letting you pull away from him, gasping for air. You felt dizzy, his hands were still squeezing and stroking over your waist, it was too much. As you tried to get your breathing under control, you glanced up at your friend, red-faced, on the verge of tears. Why was he doing this? You were so gross, ugly, nothing when compared to how fit and muscular and handsome Kirishima was.

HIs eyes were dark, chin smeared red from the blood earlier - you bet your chin looked the same. His chest rose and fell rapidly, seemingly also out of breath, but the moment your eyes met his, the man was descending again, this time to press hot kisses all over your face, on your jaw, behind your ears.

“Don’t, oh, please don’t. Kiri-why are you-? Stop-“ You gasped, the sensations of his lips trailing across your skin too much for you to handle. A kiss to the column of your throat had you jolting, trying to sit up, not knowing what you were doing but trying to get away. It was too much.

“Lay back.” Kiri’s deep voice rumbled. “Let me make you feel good. You’ll forget about the anxiety, okay? Just focus on me.”

You didn’t want to focus on him. But at the same time, the situation was so overwhelming, you didn’t know what to do except let him push you back down with a hand on your chest. 

Before you could process what happened, your clothes were off, his clothes gone as well. You wanted to shriek; cry and cover yourself and tell Kirishima to leave, but everything was happening too fast, and your body couldn’t keep up. 

You felt floaty, buzzy, like you were in a weird dream, ears stopped up full of cotton. 

Wet fingers prodded at your entrance. Oh, were they Kiri’s? When had they gotten wet? The fingers retracted, and you watched Kirishima gather the saliva in his mouth before spitting onto his hand. 

Ah.

The fingers were back, one pushing into you, the pressure too deep, too tight, too harsh. You knew in the back of your mind that you probably looked so stupid, gasping and shivering and shaking, but you couldn’t control it.

One finger turned into two, then three, then four, and then they were gone, something much bigger trying to split you open.

You felt sick.

You couldn’t move.

Kirishima was kissing your face again, his touch burning, making your skin feel tingly and painful and rough everywhere he touched. It hurt. He was saying something, but your ears were buzzing, everything felt fuzzy and weird, and you didn’t know where to look, what to do, except lie there and let the man continue.

He was soft, gentle. But no amount of easy touches or reassuring words were getting through to you, just the overwhelming sensation of being too full, nausea thick in your stomach, throat closing up. The room tasted like blood.

The pressure wasn’t going away, just building and building and building as Kirishima thrust into you, until eventually a twinge of pleasure slipped into your system alongside the discomfort of being filled. 

It felt weird… nice? You couldn’t tell anymore.

There was only sweat, slick, slapping noises, rough hands running over your skin, words being said. You couldn’t grasp anything. 

You felt full, empty, all at the same time. 

The pleasure built, higher and higher and higher until it burst into little sharp fragments that ran through your veins, zinging into your wrists, sparking through your tummy.

And then there was warmth inside you, and the part of you still lucid recognized that Kirishima had just cum inside your body.

You couldn’t get enough air into your lungs.

----

Kirishima was laying beside you, making shushing sounds, stroking your hair, pulling the blanket up around the two of you.  The pressure between your legs was gone, as was the stinging pleasure that had spilled all over your body. You couldn’t feel, everything was still too much, too loud and bright and rough and warm.

Kirishima was still stroking your hair as you finally calmed down, hyperventilating coming to a stop, shaking still there, but not as violent as it had been. 

“-so strong, and your laugh always makes me happy. I love you, and I know you love me back. It’s gonna take some time for us to work past all this nervous stuff, but I’m not give up. I’ll always be here for you, you know that?”

He was rambling, occasionally pressing soft kisses to your neck, along your collarbone - innocent, reassuring. You closed your eyes. 

“You need someone to be there for you, I know. You get so anxious, and you bottle up your feelings, and I know you get so scared of saying or doing the wrong thing and you just freeze or panic.” He continued. “You won’t ever have to worry about that with me. We worked around it today, yeah? You just relax, and let me lead. I’m never gonna steer you wrong (Y/N).”

You felt cold.

[honey-makki]

Firsts

Characters: Tsukishima Kei X Fem!Reader

Summary: Fate works in mysterious ways to bring people who are destined to be together, to actually be together. 

Warnings: Sex!! blow jobs, face riding, virginity loss 

Genre: fluff, smut

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Well this started as a drabble request but here I am a week later with a 5k fic about it. Soft tsukki inbound. I hope you enjoy @salty4tsukki bc I def enjoyed writing this.

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Being an only child is not a precursor to being lonely. Memories of family game nights, shared dinners and movies watched filled the air of your house letting you know that you were both never alone and, oh, so loved. 

You knew that having as healthy a home environment was unusual and that it was part of the reason that you are so emotionally intelligent. Many of your peers couldn’t stand their parents and found every excuse to avoid being home. Sure, you and your parents had arguments about curfew or the number of texts you sent every month. The last argument happened every time you brought home a grade that was unsatisfactory, which wasn’t often, but consistent enough that it was a recurring problem. 

“I’m just tired of them expecting me to be perfect! It’s unreasonable for them to expect perfect grades, being on a starter for the soccer team, and involved in other clubs! I’m only one person.” You ranted to Tsukki, sulking around his room before plopping on his bed, arms covering your sighing face.  Tsukki was the only person you came to with family problems because you knew he would understand and not push you. The usually sassy boy always softened these days, knowing that this was the one thing that you couldn’t handle being teased about. Today, he looked at you with soft pity, knowing the amount of work you put towards everything just to be told it’s not enough.

“I could tutor you in English if you want? I know we have our usual pre-exam study sessions, but I really don’t mind making them more regular if you think they would help.” Tsukki might listen to you complain but he still isn’t the best at empathy, rather resorting to problem-solving. He showed his care and compassion to you subtly. Offering his solutions in a way you could make them sound like your own, knowing that provided a semblance of comfort. Allowing you into his room whenever you needed to complain and not questioning your feelings. Always offering you a hoodie or jacket when you were worn out from crying, knowing that the warmth would lull you into a much-needed sleep

You knew he cared about you. Yes, sometimes you over exaggerated your feelings to take advantage of that, but only because you wanted his jacket on your body. The thought that it was his arms rather than just a Tsukki scented cloth surrounding you. Only crying a little harder with the hopes he would offer to have a movie night which always meant cuddles. No, you never faked your feelings to him, not wanting to lie to your best friend and consistent childhood companion, you just embellished them.

Relishing in the fact that for maybe, just ten minutes that Tsukki wasn’t just your best friend, that he grew past friends as he aged, and saw you like more, as his other half. The person he wanted to spend not only his childhood years with but also every single one he still had left. 

You aren’t sure when you fell in love with Tsukishima Kei.

It could have been his moment against Shiratorizawa when you saw him truly experience joy for the first time in the sport he spent so much time. It could have been the time he gave you his rain jacket when it was pouring before you walked home, knowing it wouldn’t do much against the downpour, but the barrier being symbolic. It could definitely have been the time you went over to study and you walked in on him singing to himself while studying, the soft tenor notes gracing your ears. You only really remember how his voice made your heart skip a beat, the flush of his ears when he turned around catching your eyes.

All you know is that you were hopelessly in love with the man who had been with you every step, every stumble of your life. The man who towered over you but never made you feel smaller than he, the man that laughed before checking on you when you tripped, but always ensuring you were truly ok. 

Watching him grow into his height and his body gaining muscles during highschool was both a blessing and a curse. Your eyes were drawn to his figure, shoulders hunched over on his desk, deltoids peeking out of the sleeves in a way that made you want more. Yes, you loved looking at him but sometimes it plagued you. 

Eyes scrunched shut and heavy breathing, all you can think about is what Tsukki might look like under those clothes. It was a curse, lewd thoughts of your best friend being the only way you could get off anymore. That didn’t stop you from plunging two fingers in and out for your dripping cunt edging yourself closer to your release. At the precipice, you pull your fingers out and eagerly circle your clit, the other hand moving from gripping the bedsheets to pulling at and groping your nipples. Tsukki’s name leaves your lips like a fervent prayer as you cum to the thought of him. You never felt worse about yourself than you did at this moment, but somehow you found yourself here regularly. 

You didn’t know that at that exact same moment Tsukki was in his room thinking about you. The way your smaller hands would fit around his dick, the hesitation you might experience but be driven forward by lust. The thought of being the first and maybe the only person to touch you always drives him to his release. 

He might have fooled around with some girls before, a handjob here and there, amidst a make-out session, but he could never find it in himself to go further. He couldn’t, no, didn’t want to be with anyone else, because he knew that the whole time he would be thinking about you under him.

As you had aged, sleepovers became less frequent but were something the two of you still cherished and actively made time for. Tonight is one such night, having just finished your final midterms and gorging yourself on celebratory ramen from your favorite shop. Tsukki’s parents were out of town for the week, but were used to your presence in the house and didn’t mind you being over. 

You being there should have been fine, nothing out of the normal but that's not how fate works. 

Once you arrived at his place you both changed into lounge clothes getting ready to binge the latest season of Game of Thrones. You went to the kitchen to grab you both some water, knowing neither of you will want to get up once you start.

Tsukki must have had the same idea because as you rounded the corner of the kitchen, you were met with a brick wall and a frigid wave running through your body. You realized it wasn't through your body when your nipples began to harden, peaking through your now translucent shirt. While you are still shocked at the chill, Tsukki looks down to see what happened. Instead what he sees is you, accidentally exposed, the white shirt clinging to the curve of your body like a second layer of skin.

He knows that if he doesn’t avert his gaze that he won't be able to suppress a rising tent in his pants. Committing the image to memory quickly, he apologizes for being in the way, “Shit Y/N, I’m sorry. Feel free to go grab one of my shirts to change into. I’ll clean the mess up.” With that, he moves towards the kitchen to grab a towel, brushing against your body in the narrow hallway.

You head up to his room and go to his dresser, you’ve watched him put his laundry away before, knowing exactly where he keeps his biggest and most comfortable shirts. You strip off your shirt, skin pebbling at the breeze from his fan. Blushing at the fact you are taking your clothes off in your crush childhood friend room, you strip off your lounge shorts now noticing they also have been soaked.

As you pull his practice jersey on you notice it reaches your midthigh, which causes a brief internal conflict. Should I grab a pair of his shorts even though I know they’ll be too big? This shirt is longer than my shorts were anyways, but it’s not the most decent thing. The deciding factor in opting for no shorts was nothing to do with you, rather with the man waiting patiently downstairs. It had everything to do with the glint of intrigue in Tsukki’s eye you spotted earlier, the almost imperceptible hitch in his breath, and the burning touch he left on your body as he passed you in the hallway. 

Tsukki was not even thinking about what you would look like in his clothes as he had more urgent problems. His cock was achingly hard in his sweatpants, the gray not doing him any favors of hiding how he felt about seeing your body. He was doing everything he could think of to suppress both the thoughts of you and blood rushing downstairs. 

After quickly cleaning up the spill, he got situated on the couch with a blanket hoping it would help hide his current problem as he got it under control. Tsukki spent the remaining time of your absence struggling to distract himself, reciting poetry meditating, anything to not think about it, think about you, think about the curve of your che- fuck he was failing.

His eyes shot open at your weight landing next to him on the couch. Subtly looking over your form, that he now has burned into the back of his eyelids, seeing you drowning in his clothes, his volleyball clothes. Wait, is she just wearing my shirt? His gaze lingering on the soft expanse of your thighs, knowing that he should be able to see the hem of your shorts with the way you are sitting. The thought of you in your underwear almost makes him moan, his already hard dick twitching with precum budding at the tip.

You shoot him a smile, apologizing for taking so long and say you're ready to watch if he is. After some time has passed, the air is nipping at on your still slightly wet skin, you scoot closer to Tsukki and get under the blanket with him. The slight abrasion from his sweats on your skin sent electricity tingling throughout your body and unknowingly did the same to him. 

Reaching forward to grab a glass of water after a particularly gruesome scene, your phone tumbled out of your lap. Not really thinking you lean forward and grab it, slightly raising your ass into the air to reach the last few inches. You plop back down with a grunt and throw your arms open, hoping Tsukki would know that this is your way of saying you needed to take a break from the show for a bit.

Neither of you expected the moan that escaped his lips as you brushed across his now very obvious erection. Neither of you knew what to do after either, he flushed red with embarrassment and hid his face, you with your arm still where it landed on his thigh, unable to move. “Y/N, can you please move?.” he barely chokes out. The obvious restraint in his voice was a sound you had only previously daydreamed of. 

Driven by lust, or excitement, maybe even fear that another opportunity would arise, you do move, but not in the way he had intended. You get up off the couch and he's sure that you are getting ready to leave, disgusted with him, but instead, you settle in on your knees between his thighs. Doey-eyes looking up through your lashes with hesitant excitement. “Ok, I’ve moved, what next?”

Is the one thing he dreamed about is really happening? The actuality of it seems almost incredulous. “Y/N, stop joking, I’m sorry about this. They just kinda, happen sometimes.” He can’t meet your eye because he’s sure he would cum just from the sight of you between his legs. 

“If you don't want me here Kei, I’ll move, but I’m serious.” As you say his first name, another moan comes from his throat, spurring you to action. Biting your lip, you move the blanket and hesitantly grasp his erection. 

Tsukki is hazy with confusion but simultaneously everything is crystal clear with pleasure, unable to focus on anything due to the duality inside his head. Even if he wanted to tell you to stop, to stop and think, he wouldn’t be able to choke out the words.

He notices you aren’t really moving which is driving him mad until he looks down and sees just how pure you look. “Kei, I don’t-- I don’t really know what to do. Just tell me what you like and I’ll do my best.”

“Princess, are you sure you still want to do this?” as he pulls you up to eye level, cupping your cheeks. Seeing your nod and nervous smile, he leans forward to kiss you. 

The chill that had previously permeated your body is replaced with warmth, the feeling of his soft lips moving in time with yours, his gentle but assertive grip on your back acting as heat sources. It’s a comfortable warmth, an invitation into him.

You plan on taking that invitation as he deepens the kiss, one hand in the hair at his nape, the other returning to palm him through his sweats. As he stops your kiss, holding in a groan you take that opportunity to return to your original position in front of him. Waiting patiently, looking up at him for instruction with an absolutely pornographic gaze. 

Tsukki thought the image of your chest was the best thing he would ever see, but this takes the cake. Your hands playing with the waistband, with slight hesitation before pulling both his bowers and sweats down with his assistance. 

You knew what a dick looked like, but that doesn’t mean you are any less intimidated when one is just a few inches from your face. Long and curved, a prominent vein running up to the head that is flushed red and slick with precum. His hand rests on your head with the other on his thigh. Seeing his excitement on his face gives you enough encouragement to kitten lick his tip two times. “Fuck Y/N, please don’t tease me,” his voice wavering between a moan and a whine, you’ve never heard him sound so dependent, so needy before. 

Knowing that you are the one doing this to him gives you the confidence to start taking his dick in your mouth. You pause at the head, moving your tongue around, unsure what feels good until his grip on your head tightens as you rub against the bottom, just before the shaft. “Fuck pretty girl, please move your head down, please I wan--” A groan cuts him off as you follow his command. Slowly starting to bob along a portion of his length, with increasing speed.

“Spit on your hand and stroke the rest, god your mouth is heavenly” after pulling off to follow his command, you finally notice the familiar Tsukki-induced burning in your stomach, but amplified by a hundred when you see his cock twitch as you spit into your hand. He watched you with half-lidded eyes as you positioned your hand under your mouth, whispering uncharacteristically gentle words of praise.

Soft moans fall out of his mouth as you swirl your tongue around his head on every upward movement. Your hand mimicking the speed of your lips, trying to give him as much pleasure as you can. One particular comment of his shoots straight to your core, “Y/N, I never imagined you would make me feel this good.” The implication of him thinking about this, the same way you have, makes you moan around his dick, which in turn elicits a sharp intake from Tsukki.

His grip has been tightening on your head slowly, but all of a sudden he pulls you off. “Don’t wanna cum in your mouth without asking, just hand me a tissue.”

You never imagined Tsukki making the type of sound he did when you artlessly stuttered out “W-Well you have my permission.” 

Returning your tongue to his tip, which is now angrily red and coated in both spit and precum, it only takes a few seconds before he bucks into your mouth as he orgasms. His cock reaches further than you expected resulting in you choking as he hits the back of your throat, unintentionally intensifying his orgasm.

He pulls you off of him, grimacing at the cold air hitting his spent dick, bending forward to look you in the eye.. “Pretty girl, I’m so sorry for that last bit, I didn’t mean to hurt you. Are you ok?”

The pressure of his thumb wiping off a few spare tears makes you wonder what his touch would feel like on the rest of your body. As your mind delves into lewd thoughts, you shift your thighs looking for some pleasure, and give him an absentminded “It was fine, unexpected but I wanna make you feel good.”

He carefully sits you in his lap and pulls you into a deep kiss, slow but hungry. He moves down your jaw to your neck before whispering “Well, I guess it’s my turn to return the favor huh.” You bite back your moan, but as he harshly sucks a spot at the base of your neck it slips out. “You don’t have to hide your noises, princess, let me know how good everything feels.”

He runs his hands up and down your sides underneath his shirt before they find your chest. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve imagined these.” You tug your shirt off and do the same to him. Both of you are just marveling at the beauty in front of you with lust. 

He makes the first move, gently bringing your right nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, as his left-hand switches randomly between rubbing along your side and massaging your left boob. The warmth of his tongue flicking against your pebbled bud is miles better than your own fingers, endless breathy moans falling out of your mouth as you find purchase for your hands in his hair. 

You must be unconsciously rutting against him because he stops his ministrations and stills your hips with a harsh grip. “Feeling needy now? Let me take care of you.” Tsukki rolls you off of him and you expect him to get on his knees in front of you, making you clench your knees both out of excitement and embarrassment. 

So when he lays down on the floor in front of you and shoots you a smug smirk, “Come take a seat,” your jaw drops in shock. 

“No, Tsukki, you don't have- What if I don’t taste good, please don’t worry about it-I don't want to suffoc-”  excuses and concerns pour out of your mouth but your body betrays you at the thought of him licking your sex.

“Y/N. Get over here. I want to do this and I’ll ensure you enjoy it.” His tone was commanding enough that you moved from the couch to straddling his head without a thought, losing your panties along the way. Your mind is murky with lust and anticipation, thoughts of how many times you’ve imagined his tongue on your clit being the only thing breaking through the fog. 

His tongue pierces through the haze as he runs the flat of it along your entire soaked core. Your body wants to pull away from the pressure but buck into the pleasure at the same time but Tsukki makes the decision for you, wrapping his arms around your thighs so you are snug against his face. 

He repeats the action, trying to coax a moan out of you, adding a little more force each time. It isn’t until the bridge of his nose brushes your clit that you finally let out the noises you’ve held in. “Kei- hi- fuck- higher,” breathy moans coat your words in lust.

 “Your wish is my command, princess.” His smug tone would have been annoying except for the fact that he was pressing hesitant licks against your clit eventually circling it with the tip of his tongue. You have no control over the whines you are making, only broken up by saying “yes Kei, yes, fuck” and other words of praise

Knowing how it felt when you moaned around his dick, he tries humming with his lips surrounding your clit and if he wasn’t already hard, he sure is now after the way you lewdly moaned his name and fiercely tugged his hair. 

The view of your tits heaving along with your breaths drive him to be a little more aggressive with his tongue, mercilessly switching between toying with your folds to harshly drawing shapes into your clit. 

Your cunt is drowning Tsukki in slick, coating his face and chin and he’s never been happier. Sucking your folds and using his tongue to taste all of you. He can't believe that anything has ever tasted better than you do right now.  

He can tell by the legs squeezing his head, and the shake of your entire body you are close to your orgasm. Wanting to try something new, he slides his tongue into your hole, causing you to grip his blonde locks so hard, you probably pulled some out. 

The wanton moans reverberating through the room are the only encouragement he needs to keep pressing his tongue against your tight walls. Your cunt so desperately wants to be filled its almost sucking his tongue in, but you know that alone won’t be enough to make you cum.

“ ‘m close, fuck. Please my clit, Kei please” The loss of his pressure in your cunt is overridden by the shockwaves of his lips around your clit, paired with him tracing letters and a deep moan from his throat. That was all you needed to be pushed over the edge. His moan continues as you ride out your high, hips jerking forward at the intensity.

As he pulls you into a sitting position on his lap, “Obviously I didn’t need instructions on how to make you feel good. I’ve thought about this for years.” You aren’t clear-headed enough to slap him like you usually would. All you can think about is the painful tension already building again in your core and his painfully hard dick pressed into your thigh.

You pull him into a kiss that conveys your unspoken words. Full of need and lust and wanting to make up for all of the time you lost. Your lips meet his harshly, like if you stop that it might disappear, afraid to pull back for air.

As he moves to your neck you instinctively rut your hips against him, looking for some form of release. Growling into your ear, “Oh, so one wasn't good enough for you? You want another orgasm?” 

“Well, It’s obvious you want another one,” matching his smugness with another roll that causes him to groan.

Before you can recognize it, he's flipped you over on your back and is hovering over you, eyes committing every inch of you to memory, drinking in the sight of your body, pebbled nipples, slick coating your thighs, love marks he's left thus far. It’s almost enough to make him go feral. 

Almost. 

“Y/N, are you sure you want to do this? We can stop. I really don’t mind.” The concern in his voice is clearly fighting against the lust, just barely winning over his more carnal desires. His answer comes in the form of your hand grabbing his dick and giving it a few soft, needy strokes.

“Please Tsukki, I need you in me. I’ve thought about this for so long, no way am I stopping” 

“Alright pretty girl,” and with that he returns to your deep kiss, your lips feeling like a home he never knew he left. He brings his hand down to your core, ghosting his fingers on your lips before teasing one finger in slowly. 

You hiss at the pleasure, hands finding stability rooted in his shoulders. He takes your bottom lip in between his teeth to help distract you while he rocks it in and out of your pussy. Quickly, he could tell that you were ready for a second and slipped it in, being met with you clawing at his shoulders while letting out a wanton moan.

Tsukki moves to place wet kisses along your neck and down to your chest, sucking every once in a while and then following it with a swipe of his tongue. You miss the pressure on your mouth, but you can feel another orgasm building, and it's getting harder to breathe. 

You genuinely do stop breathing when he takes one nipple in his mouth and uses his free hand to start rubbing circles into your clit. Well, if this is the way I die, I don’t really have any complaints. The coil in your stomach is about to snap and the only warning you can get out is slapping his shoulders.

The wave almost knocks you out, back arching off the floor while also trying to get more from the man between your legs. Inserting a third finger stretched you so good, he watches you try to fuck yourself on his hand through the orgasm, greedily wanting more. 

“You ready, pretty girl? Ready to take my cock?”

“Shit yes, Kei, please fuck me. I’ve dreamed about cumming on your dick, please please--” you are reduced to babbling pleas when he runs his dick along your slit coating himself in your slick. The jolt of pleasure every time his head hits your already over-stimulated bud edges on pain but you don’t want him to stop. 

You see stars and hear symphonies when he thrusts into you. A duet of his staccato grunts and your euphonic moans, accompanied by the fortissimo sounds of your pussy as he slides in. After taking a rest for you to adjust to his girth, his pace starts off slow but gradually increasing as you beg him for more. 

“Fuck, please, fill me up, god I never thought your cock would feel so good, Fuck” 

Your babbling praise is reduced to a high pitched whine when he starts slamming into you harder than before. The heavy slaps of his hips into yours replacing your moans in the melody. You barely process his words as the tip of his cock slams into your cervix with no remorse, over and over and over again. 

“Did I just hear you say you didn’t think my cock would feel good? Do you want to go back to cumming on your fingers to the thought of me or do you want me to continue stretching your tiny little pussy out?” 

Tsukki never minced his words, but the sheer lewdness of them causes heat to rise in your face. “N-no Kei. Please help, shit, me. Wanna cum on your dick so b- so bad.” His answer is to push one of your legs back towards your shoulder, the new position and the curve of his cock has him hitting that spot inside you always struggled to reach. 

Every muscle in your body is tensed up, burning from the desire to cum. Shockwaves of pleasure radiating from your pussy reach the tips of your toes and through every hair on your head. 

Your walls are clenching around him, wanting him deeper, even though there isn’t really any room left for him. Your body is driven by lust and disregards any pain you should be feeling, rather interpreting it as a different octave of pleasure. 

You find your fingers on your chest, groping and tweaking your nipples, knowing that you get even more sensitive when you are ready to orgasm. “Kei, please cum in me, I wanna cum but I wanna, no I need to do it with you,” it sounds more like a moan or a plea than a request, but Tsukki was already struggling to hold back his own orgasm.

He took your lead, moving his mouth down to your chest and rolling your other nipple against his tongue. Simultaneously, he snakes a hand down to your vagina, to the spot you begged him to touch earlier and rubs meticulous circles on your puffy and neglected clit..

Your back arches off the floor at the first touch of your clit, and your cunt clenched around his dick, making it even harder for Tsukki to thrust in and out. Your orgasm is stronger than its ever been, you’re certain you blacked out for a minute, only coming to when you hear a hearty moan from Tsukki and another wave of warmth in your sex, this time coming from him.

His forehead pressed against your chest as he fucks you through both of your orgasms, hand still curling your clit, attempting to extend the euphoria you both feel for as long as he can. Your hands find their way into his hair and you gently tug and scratch his scalp, making him look up at you. 

Your face may be covered in tears, and spit but he’s never looked at you with more adoration. You continue to pull him up to your face, placing sweet kisses all over his face as you both ride out the last waves of your high, his dick still inside of you. Wincing as he pulls out to lay down on the floor, he ends up pulling you into an embrace.

You look over to his content face, illuminated by the television,  eyes closed with a ghost of a smile dancing over his lips before he murmurs, “I never knew Game of Thrones sex scenes were quite so realistic, but I’m not complaining.” 

“God, Tsukki you’re so annoying,” you say trying to shove him off of you with a laugh, but he just holds you tighter. 

“I like it better when you call me Kei.”

Tags

@ceo-of-daichi @roandtheroses @sugawara-sweetheart @nonexistent-social-life​

[shunsuiken]

fluffy scenarios of kita, akaashi, and iwaizumi staying up with their fem s/o because she's studying for a big exam please & thank you

im serious when i tell u i couldnt stop smiling when i wrote this, thanks for requesting anon <3

kita, akaashi and iwaizumi staying up with their fem s/o because she’s studying for an exam.

—kita shinsuke.

kita is 100% the type of person who has a consistent sleeping schedule

like bitch will sleep at 10pm and wake up at 5am bright and early and fucking gorgeous

you’ll never catch this guy slippin’ (the inarizaki vbc will upvote this statement)

the latest he’ll stay up is midnight which means that hes going to take more of the afternoon and evening to study

you’ll be studying with him in his room and kita will make sure the surroundings are peaceful enough for you to study effectively

he never hesitates to help you with some topics you don’t understand for the classes you both take

sometimes gives you studying tips that are really helpful

you check the time just to see how far you’ve come- its almost 10pm

youre worried about kita because bby has to sleep and you don’t want him to stay up for you !!

“kita?? kita where’d you go?” you’ll call out, thinking he’s already getting ready to head to bed

but you find him in the kitchen and you smell... noodles??? you watch him pour them into two separate bowls huh?

“i know you’ll be staying up late so have some noodles to regain energy.” he’ll carefully glide the bowl over to your side of the table, his black-dyed hair tips were still damp from taking a shower earlier

oof sis were u that focused on ur work that you didn’t realise he went down to cook you sth??

you have your notes in your hands, walking over to the table and sitting down “you’re not heading to bed yet? you don’t have to wait for me yknow.”

he turns the stove off, bringing his bowl of noodles to the table. “don’t you still have a few topics to cover? let’s continue.”

your face goes :O but your heart goes 💓💓💓

unbeknownst to himself, he’ll casually play with your feet under the table while he asks you questions to answer omg :( hes so cute tf

youre basically having a midnight study date with him

he’ll also compliment you when he feels like you’re running out of energy because he knows it gives you energy boosts :”)))

—akaashi keiji.

i firmly believe that this bby is a master at all nighters and does them when necessary

so when 9pm or 10pm hits, you both are in the kitchen making coffee because you know you still have much more to study

you love watching keiji make coffee like sometimes you stop stirring your own just to watch him and when he notices hes like “😳😳 what”

and you just shrug “you’re cute”

i guess keiji’s not used to your random compliment bursts so he just //blushes//

and then u give him a kith because his cute face deserves it

youre also wearing his sweater because he has an abundance of them in his closet and you totally raid it every few days

you guys head back to his room and begin studying again

the night is tranquil and the house is silent, it truly feels so serene when you put aside the thought of your final exams

then you remind yourself of the reality and it feels like shit all over again

akaashi obviously senses your distress so he put a hand on your outstretched leg. the warmth plays with your cool skin, relaxing your nerves a tad bit

it was the little things he did that made u feel better and maybe if you squint a little harder, you’ll know he’s telling you “i love you”

akaashi’s gonna be finished with his coffee within five minutes LMAO hes a fast sipper

youre wondering how hes able to pull this off every few months but i guess everyone has their own secret super power no?

at some point you find yourself dozing off at 1.30

“you ready for tomorrow?” “absolutely not” pfft. akaashi’s gonna think. he’ll drag your ass to his bed so you can sleep properly and avoid straining a muscle

“get rest, love, you should at least be awake for the exam.” is the last thing hear before you fall asleep on his comfy sheets

—iwaizumi hajime.

lots of chaos in the beginning and thats because you two made a stupid joke about godzilla and now you can’t stop laughing like a dumbass  every time you look at iwa

“y/n look at me-” “PFFFTTT” its literally the middle of the night and youve probably awoken the dead 🤷🏻‍♀️ no biggie tho

lowkey makes it easier for you to study because you’re awake awake yknow?

iwa defs likes to take care of you. he’ll pass you a drink to sip on whenever it looks like youre about to lose concentration and asks you from time to time if you feel like youve studied enough

WILL GIVE YOU A MASSAGE but you tell him no because that’ll only make you sleepier

asks you questions about your exam material. he sometimes gets confused by the question because he doesn’t take that class

he actually finds it cute when you have to shut your eyes to think of the answer and when you open them, hes staring at you fondly

its like “😳 is there something on my face you porcupine”

DID I JUST CALL IWA A PORCUPINE

this will lead you two into tickle fights and iwa convinced (not really) you that you should have regular tickle fights because ENERGY and BRAIN AWAKE 👍🏼

“call me a porcupine one mo-” ok this is cute because he tickles a spot that is super ticklish for you and you look- omg- you look so adorable all smiley

back to the studying part haha oh no youre starting to get sleepy

but you don’t wanna sleep yet!! you barely covered enough but iwa’s been watching u study and hes pretty sure you’ve covered the entire book since you started earlier this morning

idk i just feel like it would be nice if you laid flat on his lap and he just asks you questions and you try to answer them

his touch is just very nice and makes you feel safe yknow :)

you end up dozing off most of the time but you do try your very best to stay awake pls stop ur making iwa combust

after fifteen minutes of questions, you’ll surrender, exhausted

“tired?” you’ll hum in agreement and he’ll flip you over just to carry you into bed, tucking you in

[vivithefolle]

Love isn’t a Deus Ex Machina thing, it’s literally the core theme of the series, hence why Love Magic exists

Love Magic is never a concept at any time in the series. It’s only about “Lily Potter’s spell”. But what’s so special about Lily Potter? What’s so great about her? She did the thing any halfway decent mother would do for their child: she gave her life for them. Molly would’ve done it for any of her sons. Narcissa would have done it for Draco. Mrs Granger the nonentity would have done it for her daughter had she not been lobotomized instead. Lily Potter’s sacrifice isn’t anything special. It’s only special because Rowling decided so, because the Plot needed it to be.

Love isn’t a Deus Ex Machina thing? Then how come Quirrel conveniently burned to death at Harry’s hands? How come Harry had to live at Privet Drive because reasons so he could be abused so naive readers like you could feel very sorry for the poor widdle orphan and pat themselves on the back because wow, aren’t you special for feeling sorry for the poor widdle orphan?

And I didn’t misunderstand Harry. I literally explained him to you

If you don’t like him, I don’t care. Just stop giving his uniqueness to other characters

And you literally showed me exactly why you don’t understand him.

Harry’s superpower isn’t teh special uniqueness of his luuuurve, or the absolute pure pureness of his heart, it’s that he has FRIENDS. Friends who’d die for him, friends who’d sacrifice themselves for him, friends who’d do anything for him. THAT’S the power of love, not some bullshit ~special pure pureness of the heart of Harry Christ our lord and savior~. Harry isn’’t unfailingly kind or uniquely loving or whatever the shit. Harry is a run-of-the-mill teenager who has such obscene luck I wouldn’t be surprised to learn he was conceived under the influence of Lucky Potion.

You just showed me you’re a member of the Church of Harry Christ and I’m not interested in joining. Dear God I thought I was too attached to fictional characters but wow am I glad I’m not at your level.

Also one more thing: “tortured” someone?

Sure. A painful stunner is DEF torture (that’s legit all his Crucio did; it acted as a painful stunner. It threw Carrow backwards and hurt him while it did. Crucio isn’t even close to that when performed properly)

............ you... you fucking little hypocrite.

You filthy, lying, little bitch cunt of a fucking hypocrite.

Remember when I said the next person who’d try to lie to me to pity poor wee widdle Hawwy would be sorry? You pathetic little piece of shit. If you’re so in luuurve with your precious cuntfuck of a camera archetype you’d accept EVERYTHING about him, wouldn’t you? Haha, but noooo. “Oh wee poor Hawwy only used a painful stunner :)))))))” you fucking little bitch. Oh you accuse ME of trying to “make Hawwy not special :(((” but you... YOU... Hahahaha sorry everyone. I have a slight aversion to people blatantly trying to gaslight me. You may find me getting a little bit angry if you happen to trod on this trigger of mine.

Let’s see that again shall we? Open your eyes and your chakras, bitch, we’re going for a ride.

“It’s not a case of what you’ll permit, Minerva McGonagall. You time’s over. It’s us what’s in charge here now, and you’ll back me up or you’ll pay the price.” And he spat in her face. Harry pulled the Cloak off himself, raised his wand, and said, “You shouldn’t have done that.” As Amycus spun around, Harry shouted, “Crucio!” The Death Eater was lifted off his feet. He writhed through the air like a drowning man, thrashing and howling in pain, and then, with a crunch and a shattering of glass, he smashed into the front of a bookcase and crumpled, insensible, to the floor. “I see what Bellatrix meant,” said Harry, the blood thundering through his brain, “you need to really mean it.” - Deathly Hallows

If I could reach through my screen to force you to look at the relevant bits, I would. And I’d also slap you in passing. Yknow, just so you think twice before being a stinking fucking hypocrite again in the future.

Now, let’s do some actual literary analysis that isn’t your ~wah hawwy puwe of heawt luuurrrve~ diarrhea you’re still trying to paint my poor innocent blog with.

Now let’s see that PaInFuL sTuNnEr in detail:

He writhed through the air like a drowning man, thrashing and howling in pain 

In bold so you can see it very well. Admire the curve of each letter, the angles and the lines. And most of all, interpret the meaning of each and every word. Watch how he’s compared to “a drowning man”, do you know how excruciatingly painful and distressing it is to drown? How the air fills your lungs as you claw desperately for the surface, trying to find something to cling to, anything, the feeling of your lungs filling with this foreign substance you cannot spit back out? The feeling of fading away as all your oxygen is consumed by the futility of your hopeless flailing, your muscles losing their strength, your panic dulling as you slip into unconsciousness and water claims yet another victim...

Of course, drowning people don’t thrash and howl in pain. Because all they’re focused on is trying to BREATHE. But Amycus’ focus isn’t on trying to breathe. Amycus is only focus on Harry’s Crucio and the pain it’s bringing him.

But sure Anon. A pAiNfUl StUnNeR. Fuck you.

and then, with a crunch and a shattering of glass 

Now I’m aware Dummywood has made you believe that glass can be traversed easy without any consequences but real glass doesn’t work like that. Real glass takes some force to shatter. Real glass shatters into hundreds of tiny pieces that embed themselves into your flesh and skin, kinda like... oh! Kinda like that glass chandelier that fell on Hermione, once. After she herself was Crucio’d if I remember well. Hmm, by whom exactly, I have it on the tip of my tongue...

“I see what Bellatrix meant,” 

Ah yes. By the woman who tortured to insanity Neville’s parents and whom Harry is literally acknowledging as having taught him this particular lesson.

Harry himself is TELLING US HE LISTENED TO BELLATRIX’S ADVICE. ON FUCKING TORTURING PEOPLE. But “a PaInFuL sTuNnEr He’S aN oRpHaN :’‘‘(((((”. Fuck off. Fuck off, Anon. Fuck off and learn to fucking read.

Ah but I got ahead of myself! We’re not even CLOSE to the point!

he smashed into the front of a bookcase and crumpled, insensible, to the floor 

So Amycus gets tortured - or, as Anon astutely put it, pAiNfUl StUnNeR - smashes through a sheet of glass, and gets knocked out.

Hmm. Now if Harry just took out a knife and brought it to Carrow’s neck, he’d be worthy of being called Bellatrix’s faithful apprentice.

And now I’m gonna quote one of my Quora answers again because my followers deserve better than to see me completely lose my mind at some anonymous cowardly cunt trying to lie to my fucking face.

On the topic of Harry’s Crucios:

This could mean that Harry is scarily proficient at casting Crucio, that Amycus has low pain tolerance or that he was knocked out when he fell, but regardless of the meaning, IT’S NOT GOOD. EVEN IF IT’S A DEATH EATER, EVEN IF HE PROBABLY DESERVES COMEUPPANCE - IT’S NOT HARRY’S JOB TO GIVE OUT SAID COMEUPPANCE.

(Like, can I please remind everyone that Harry is supposed to be the Jesus Christ of his story? In the Bible we never have Jesus Christ torturing the pharisees or any of those who didn’t believe in him. Just… you’re telling me Jesus “Peace and Love” Christ would torture people… what the hell, Joanne?)

“I see what Bellatrix meant,” said Harry, the blood thundering through his brain, “you need to really mean it.”

…………………….. Um. Harry, what the fuck are you doing???! He’s taken Bellatrix’s advice! He actually relates to the insane sadistic terrorist! He is capable of using a curse that literally requires sadism to work!

(Again, when someone tells me “Jesus Christ”, “sadism” isn’t the first word that would come to my mind.)

At least there’s some sort of reaction. “the blood thundering through his brain”. But that’s a very… nondescriptive reaction. Is it the “adrenaline pumping in my veins” blood? Is it the “holy shit what have I done” blood? Is it the “I could get used to this” blood?

We don’t know. We’ll never know.

Alright, skipping to the part that interests us -

She struggled to pull herself together. “Potter, that was foolish!”

Eh, I’d have said “tactically unsound” (what if Amycus wasn’t knocked out), “monstrous” (that’s Bellatrix’s favourite curse you’re using, Harry), “insane” (re: Bellatrix), but yeah, I guess “foolish” would also cover it.

“He spat at you,” said Harry.

Ever heard of Disproportionate Retribution, Harry? A few fascists regimes all over the world were especially fond of it.

Then I’m skipping over the one thing that causes the most outrage because I’ll go back to it soon, just let me finish with this:

“[…] but don’t you realize — ?” “Yeah, I do,” Harry assured her. Somehow her panic steadied him.

I guess we can imagine that McGee is saying “don’t you realize what you’ve just done?”

Harry “assures” her he realizes. Harry knows. Harry has just used the literal goddamn Torture Curse and he’s totally cool with it. Or, if he was uncool with it, now he’s cool with it. Because “her panic steadied him”. So seeing McGonagall panic makes Harry think “yeah, using Crucio was the right thing to do”.

Well then! Onwards then, Dark Lord Potter! First it’s just one Crucio, then it’s just three, then it’s just one little murder of one lowly little naysayer, then it’s only a little more murder…

And now we’ll go back a smidge, because how are we supposed to react?

How are we supposed to reconcile the idea of Harry, who’s supposed to save us all through his Power of Love, with the Harry that has just tortured a man into inconsciousness?

Even if that man was a Death Eater, Harry is supposed to be the Christ-like figure. He’s supposed to be love and forgiveness incarnate. Heck, not a hundred pages later he’ll offer forgiveness to freaking Voldemort! He forgives Draco Malfoy, he forgives Albus Dumbledore, he forgives Severus Snape!

So how do we reconcile Harry Potter The Forgiver with Harry Potter The Torturer? Tell us, O Author! Tell us how to navigate the murky, twisted depths of human morality!!

“Potter, I — that was very — very gallant of you — […]”

…

…………………

………………………………………………

That was… gallant?

Gallant?

Wait, doesn’t gallantry imply some form of honor?

As in, not taking your opponent by surprise -

Harry pulled the Cloak off himself, raised his wand…

As in, facing your opponent head-on instead of hitting them in the back -

As Amycus spun around, Harry shouted…

As in, not torturing your opponent???

He writhed through the air like a drowning man, thrashing and howling in pain

That’s… unless the definition has changed, nothing about this is gallant…

Let me just -

(of a man) polite and kind towards women, especially when in public

showing no fear of dangerous or difficult things

Alright, so, Amycus isn’t a woman, so Harry can’t, by definition, be “gallant” to him.

Still, being “polite and kind” to a woman didn’t involve “torturing someone who disrespected her”, last time I checked. Punching an asshole harrassing her, definitely *pats Ron*, but torturing that asshole… no, just no.

And well, I guess casting Cruciatus is a difficult thing to do… and Harry didn’t seem very afraid to do it… that’s not supposed to be a good thing, but apparently, now it is…?

What made that

As Amycus spun around, Harry shouted, “Crucio!”

more gallant than

“What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!”

After all, they’re the exact same thing. Torture. Inflicting tremendous pain upon someone for the heck of it.

Why do people lose their heads over Harry using Crucio, when they seem to neglect the fact that Draco Malfoy cast it?

Well, easy enough - Draco Malfoy is an evil little cockroach. The guy wished death upon people, he bragged about the fact that his Daddy dearest was a terrorist who killed people. It’s not too surprising that an evil little cockroach like him would find it acceptable to torture someone he considers “not human”, isn’t it?

What’s more surprising however, is that the hero, Harry Potter, who has been subjected to the Torture Curse, whose only use of the Torture Curse previously was when he felt distress and pain unlike any other, that Harry Potter whom is supposed to be a hero and some sort of role model, would actually manage to use said Torture Curse even though it requires real sadism to actually work.

And what’s even worse is that Harry Potter casts that curse, that literal Torture Curse, and instead of being rightly horrified, instead of being terrified by the boy’s use of such a heinous spell, instead of saying “alright Harry, you’re not doing this again, ever, right?”, instead…

Instead McGonagall calls Harry “gallant”, instead of telling him off for using such a curse. She briefly calls him “foolish”, but it doesn’t register, really, since she ends up calling him “gallant”.

That’s what angers people. That the Torture Curse is the most horrible, awful thing you can do to people… unless you’re Harry Potter, in which case it is a little “foolish”, but mostly “gallant”.

......................

But of course, little Anon over here isn’t angered. Because little Anon is a faithful devoted member of the Church of Harry Christ Our Lord And Saviour. Little Anon can say enormities like A pAiNfUl StUnNeR and believe it with the whole force of their little Anon heart, because uwu Hawwy speshul orphan pure lurve uwu.

Little Anon, please get the fuck out of my blog and never, ever come back. I’m sure this arrangement will be beneficial for everyone involved.

[risingsouls]

Conversations: 3

[Part 3 of what should def just be called my self-indulgent and soon to be shippier bs. The shippy isn’t REALLY there yet but the chemicals are reacting, as they say.]

“I have another question.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Vegeta eyed Nabooru from across the campfire, usual frown twitching a touch lower. The flames danced in her gold eyes. Had it not been for the dinosaur steak roasting over the fire, the offered view of the flame’s glow illuminating her against the early night sky might have been pleasant. “Well, go on. I’ve indulged you every other time, why should now be any different?”

The Gerudo reached out to turn her dinner for an even roast. Considering their last encounter, how the train of conversation intensified to a point that felt as though the slightest movement would trigger violence, she almost didn’t expect him to let her follow through. A whole week passed before he returned to the wasteland for a spar and, while she tried not to dwell on it, to accept that she pushed too far and overstayed her welcome, or, harder to swallow he didn’t consider her a worthy sparring partner any more, it had bothered her more than she cared to admit aloud or to herself. When she hit the low point of considering finding him herself or showing up at his place of residence--a tidbit of information she picked up at the tournament if she couldn’t sense him--she threw herself into her own training. A good long span of survival training without the use of her ki helped clear her head and consider ways to move forward with her growth on her own once more.

“This one might be personal.” She snorted at the raised eyebrow he gave her and amended, “In a different way. Like about your body sort of personal.”

“What?” His expression morphed into a scowl. Heat soared into his cheeks and he glanced away to keep her from noticing it. “What the hell would you need to ask about my body?!”

It took a second too long for her to realize why her words caused such an indignant reaction in the prince. “W-wait! No, I didn’t mean it like that! I’m not--!” she sputtered, trying to regain ground. “Ugh, I’ll just ask. You and Nappa are both Saiyans, but he has a tail and you don’t. Did you have a tail at some point, too?”

Vegeta felt the blush flee from his face and his heart rate slowly returning to normal, but her inquiry did nothing to quell his sour expression. He turned it back on her. “Of course I had a tail. All Saiyans are born with them.”

Had. Considering the tidbits of his past she knew, she feared the worst. Frieza was obviously a racist bastard that feared his kind. Had he taken it? If so, why hadn’t he lobbed Nappa’s off? A warning? Another sort of message? Nabooru pulled the steak from the fire and extended it to him. A peace offering, a silent apology. A way to cool him off and keep talking if only for her own curiosity. “What happened to it, then? Or is yours special and invisible?”

Snatching the proffered meat, sharp canines tore into it. He ignored the burns to his tongue and the roof of his mouth as he chewed. “Got cut off,” he rumbled around the bite before taking another.

Nabooru failed to stop her eyelids from lowering and the corners of her lips dipping downward in an unamused frown. Rolling her eyes, she popped up to her feet and strode over to the carcass a few meters away from their camp. “Should I ask you how or why?” She considered summoning a ki sword but instead pulled one of her dual blades from her hip, if only to strike back by annoying him as he was her. When he found her earlier that afternoon training with her trusty blades--the weight welcome in her hands, the technique of wielding them so embedded in her muscle memory she lost no time delving into her old routines and toying with new ones--he had made it plain he didn’t care for such weapons. She brought it down in a swift arc, slicing another steak from the beast’s tail. Noting that he was halfway through the one in his hands, she hacked off another for insurance. “Or would I be wasting my breath?”

Though the rage from that particular day had long since dulled to a weak summer thunderstorm when given half a thought, Vegeta avoided considering it. A successful endeavor so long as his mind cooperated and no one reminded him of it. The day his life was upended and flipped upside down, never to return to a proper orientation even after all these years. His whole understanding of himself, his place in the universe, his strength and prowess as a warrior...all of it ripped to shreds and uncertain. Sometimes, it all still felt like an extended nightmare and he would wake up in his pod on some new planet to conquer with Nappa and Raditz at his side. Such moments were fewer and further between these days, but he once more found himself on precarious footing with no clear goal for himself. No clear desires. A murky identity despite his best efforts to conceal just how lost he felt through declarations of his princely status to a dead race.

Their last conversation had reminded him of it and, as he tended to do when he needed to feel like he was accomplishing something and forget the world around him, he trained day and night until exhaustion forced him to rest. Then he awoke a fee meager hours later and did it again. He lost at least a week this time, if the last message Nabooru sent and he replied to and her off-handed comment earlier was any indication.

"A fat man cut it off," he began between bites of meat. He swallowed, watching her prepare the next steak on the spit. "Never saw him again after. Best for him because I'd have killed him if I did."

An empty threat, likely. He had promised the others there that day the same fate but failed to enact any of them. A waste of energy, he told himself. But deep down, he simply knew it was a death wish when he still tailed Kakarot in power. And though back then he wished and sometimes still considered if he would have been better off sharing the same fate as his people, obliterated to space dust to forever float among the cosmos and join them in Hell, his fire to reclaim his honor and place as the most powerful Saiyan kept him alive.

Nabooru knew her follow up question was predictable, but if he found it annoying, he could easily amend it by filling in the proper details without prompt. "A random fat man just cut off your tail?" she asked, tone devoid of humor despite the image parading through her mind. "Seems rather random."

"It wasn't." Her steely gaze pinned him to the spot, full lips thinned and an eyebrow lifted. A chuckle rumbled in his chest, and he could imagine--almost feel--the missing appendage in question flicking in idle arcs of amusement. He finished the last bit of meat slow, relishing the taste and her mounting frustration over the game he played. "Our tails are what allow us to transform into the mighty Oozaru. He cut it off to return me to my normal form.”

“Another transformation? Like your Super Saiyan thing?”

“No, not exactly. During full moons, Saiyans transform into giant apes capable of leveling planets. Hence why our talents were in demand for someone like Frieza and his family.” He wiped his mouth with his arm. “Plenty of us could do it without the transformation, but using the Oozaru form was typically faster and more difficult for enemies to strike down.”

Nabooru whistled low, fascinated by the idea. She leaned forward and twisted the meat to the other side. “Mm, so then cutting off your tail was actually strategic of this mystery fat man?”

“You give him more credit than he deserves,” the Saiyan huffed. “Kakarot and his friends got lucky the first time I touched down on this damn planet. The clown was dead to rights, and had those idiots not shown up to our battle…” He trailed off, unsure of how that would change his fate and certain she could fill in the blanks herself. Where would he be now had he destroyed Kakarot and his friends that day? Still serving Frieza? Ruler of his own empire like his father promised him? Dead?

She opened her mouth to respond, pointing out that technically Goku hadn’t defeated him that day exactly by that detailing, but reconsidered. Another sore spot that, if she understood right, sparked his rivalry with the other Saiyan. His need to surpass him and defeat him in battle. She could understand that; she wouldn’t care for such an outcome either, and would crave a proper rematch. She suspected the blow to his pride ran deeper than just the need for a rematch, however. Like her, his warrior status was intrinsically tied to his identity, and the loss to Goku had shaken that, the reverberations of which he still obviously battled with.

“Why is it that I’m the one always answering questions, anyway?” Nabooru glanced up from the flames at her company. His muscular arms were folded over his broad chest, and he watched her with narrowed eyes. She blinked, and when he didn’t amend his inquiry, she replied, “Because you’ve never really asked me anything?” She lifted a shoulder. “I never talked much about myself because I figured you weren’t interested. I didn’t think you would like such a breach our quasi-master-student relationship or really care to listen.”

“And all of your questions didn’t do that already?” He sneered when all she offered was another shrug in response. He had no one to blame but himself on that front. If he really took offense to her interrogations, he could have ignored her. But the ease of conversing with her lulled him into blathering on about his past. And, if he wanted to know more about her in turn, a possibility he tried to deny due to its futility, he had no reason to doubt she would answer in kind. Her being a warrior as passionate as he was about improving herself had piqued his curiosity at her tournament, and her final words that all but ended their tense conversation a week before haunted him, further prodding the desire to uncover her past. His reasonably cynical mind deemed it pointless, an effort to form an unnecessary bond, and, until outwardly admitting it moments ago, he had conveyed such a mindset to her successfully by not partaking in asking her his own questions. But a part of him he could not pin down--simple curiosity? Loneliness? Hope of finding someone who could even remotely relate to him in more than basic ways and that didn’t annoy him too much?--begged him to ask similar questions to those she asked him and learn more. With his outburst, he had little choice but to follow through.

Another huff blown out through his nose. “Fine. You said you didn’t get to kill your Frieza. Who was your Frieza?”

Nabooru hid her surprise in his follow through by casting her gaze to the steak and turning it slowly. Habit and buried bitterness made her want to question his sincerity in asking: did he really want to know, or was he just trying to get back at her for all of her inquiries? She didn’t usually share her experience with anyone, and most were too caught up in themselves or completely unaware that she and her people hailed from a different planet and would never think to ask such questions. She kept most at arm’s length outside of the Gerudo to not only shield her emotions but to, perhaps, better cope with the past and the loose ends she left behind. It’s success felt questionable most days. 

“He was the King of Hyrule,” she said, deciding at length that Vegeta wasn’t the type to bring something up if he wasn’t genuinely curious. “Well, really the monarchy of Hyrule. Perhaps the whole country in its own way.” Gold eyes flicked up to him, assessing. “It’s...a long story. It would take a bit to help you underst--”

“Try me.” A challenge issued out of both his undeniable interest in her tale and annoyance that she tried to deflect his question when he answered all of hers (nevermind that it took some coaxing on her part). “You and I seem to have little more than time, so get to explaining. Not so fun being on the other side, is it?”

She chewed her lip and pulled the meat from the fire. She turned it over, once, twice, then handed it over to Vegeta instead. “Well...as I’m sure you guessed, the king and his people were not very fond of mine. Decades of friction from how we fought the longest and hardest in the Civil War, and likely could have won if our supplies and numbers had held up. In the end, we surrendered and joined the other nations in signing a treaty of unity, but the spoils were tactically skewed against us. It offered a semblance of peace, ensured our sovereignty as long as we played by their rules. It did not, however, help us secure better lives for ourselves in expanding outside of the desert for farmland nor did it open up the trade that had been restricted. Though they blocked every request, despite our people dying from the war draining our supplies and a desert not being the most hospitable home, we did our best to find ways to survive while trying to play their games of diplomacy and peace. It was hard not to see it as an orchestrated, slow strangling and punishment for our near success in the war.”

Nabooru paused, the next portion of her story lodging a lump in her throat and igniting a furious flame in her belly. She still struggled to talk about certain bits, the memories painful and the feelings of shame stilling her tongue. Perhaps another time she would illuminate Ganondorf’s role and her betrayal in more detail. For now, she could work around it for the most part.

“Our king...he lost patience with them and staged a coup on his own. He was captured before he could get too far and...imprisoned, likely to be executed. It only fueled the hatred Hyrule had for us, as well as their fear because they assumed we would pick up where he left off.” She stabbed the spit through the remaining stake with unnecessary ferocity. “Whole groups, including people of the court called for our complete eradication. It was considered radical at first, niche groups popping up here and there, but it quickly gained traction, and the king nor his lackeys ever denounced it all, despite the peace treaty and our insistence to uphold it. I had taken over as leader and tried everything I could to convince them, to stave off the growing violence and once more try to save my people and give them a sustainable life. To play their game like they wanted. It did no good. I was laughed out of every meeting.

“Back home, we were split. We were all angry, desperate, and many called for war, even though we could never win with hardly the supplies to sustain ourselves in peacetime and being horribly outnumbered by the rest of Hyrule. Others suggested we take our chances with the desert before they storm our gates.” She swallowed, staring into the fire, reminded of the torches they bore and how it glinted off their steel as they swarmed their home. “We didn’t get the chance to make the decision. Soldiers and civilians alike stormed the fortress en masse. We fought as long as we could, but we had to make the decision to flee into the desert. Only those that made it here survived.”

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes but she refused to let them fall. Tears of mourning, of shame as a warrior who was forced to flee rather than face her attackers and die a warrior’s death or come out victorious with the King’s head on a pike. No matter how reasonable, no matter how she had helped save at least some of her people and helped them flourish in another home, it felt cowardly. Unfinished business never set well with her, but, at the same time, she wasn’t entirely sure that, given the chance, she would go through with making the dreams of storming Hyrule and leveling it with her newfound power a reality any more. The fleeting satisfaction it would bring didn’t feel worth it.

Somewhere during her story, her fingers had woven into her ponytail to glide through the crimson tresses. She snatched her hand out of them as if they had burned her and burrowed both hands into the space between her crisscrossed legs. “While I took down plenty of those who attacked us, I didn’t get to kill the king or his court or anyone else who wished me and my people dead. That’s why I said what I did. I understand that yearning for...well, I don't know what to call it. Justice? Revenge? Closure?”

Vegeta had slowed the pace of his eating as she spoke, nibbling on the hunk of meat rather than tearing chunks from it. Many of her people were killed out of fear of their might and potential--as warriors and in what they might do--and they were forced to flee because of it. He could easily see why his own history resonated with her, the parallels uncanny. And she was their leader for a time, a fact he could have guessed at considering the others still seemed to turn to her for guidance, likely out of habit, and the way she carried herself among them. They both understood the pain of failure, of helplessness to change anything due to lacking power or sway to do so. She at least didn't grow to resent the survivors of her kind, or shove them away because they were weaker or deemed useless. She had the chance to learn to be a proper leader. His only guidance in that department was Frieza. 

He grit his teeth; he hated when he realized just how similar to that bastard he had been. How many of his habits and practices he picked up unintentionally just to survive.

“All three, I suppose,” he mumbled at last, choosing to stare at the meat in his hands than make eye contact. “Maybe someone else got vengeance for you and your race.”

His words didn’t make her feel better, but she suspected they weren’t meant to. “Mm, somehow I doubt it. People like that always live longer than they deserve to.” She pulled her knees up to her chest and turned her steak. “You still wish it was you, then?”

Vegeta popped the last bite in his mouth and chewed it slowly. He didn’t miss the bitter hope in her tone. Her gaze finding his despite his best efforts to avoid it. For what, though? Someone to understand? For someone who was anything but “normal” to validate the hollowness of a vendetta not claimed? 

“It should have been me. But the universe thought Kakarot had a better stake to the claim than me.” He didn’t mention his own son cutting Frieza to pieces like he was nothing and, to add salt to the wound, did it as a Syper Saiyan as well. “But...yes. I suppose I do. Not so vehemently as after the fact, but I will still say he was mine to kill after all the shit he put me through. After all he took from me.”

Nabooru remained silent for a while, offering only a nod of agreement in answer, the crackle of the fire and the howl of a coyote in the distance the only sounds. Though the ache remained, they had both figured out how to manage. Perhaps not in the healthiest of ways but maybe they could help each other with that. The thought surprised her; did she really expect this sparring arrangement and conversing like this to be long term with no real indication that it would continue even the next day? Once more she had to contend with her potential want for his company, not just anyone’s. A confusing revelation, since the last decade or more of her life had been spent consciously avoiding creating such bonds and pretending she didn’t want them outside of the few Gerudo she had already established them with. 

"Hey."

The Saiyan returned his attention from a lizard scaling a nearby rock to the woman with a raised eyebrow. "What?"

Nabooru bit her lip, a smile tugging her lips. "Want to spar? The night is young."

He stared at her, confusion still present on his features. "What about your food? You need to eat or you won't have the energy to make it worth my time."

"What are you my mother or just scared?" She rose to her feet and smoothed out her pants, kicking sand onto the fire. "If you really want to play that game, you obviously need to get more sleep. I could see the bags under your eyes from a mile away." 

"Scared of what? You maybe landing a decent hit?" He scoffed and rose to his feet. He didn't care to be nagged about his extra erratic sleeping patterns of late, and the prospect of a spar sounded more enticing than delving into their bloody pasts and regrets for much longer. 

She stepped toward him and rested her hands on her hips. "So, are you going to fight me or what?"

He smirked, feet leaving the sand. "If you're so eager to get beaten,, then let's go. We're burning moonlight."

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Coffee and a Wedding (Chapter 12- The End)

Here we are Loves, we've reached the end. I'd like to just take a moment to say Thank You to everyone. Thank You to the long time readers who have jumped with be between characters. Thank You to the new readers who I've watched discover my older works while waiting on updates. Thank You to the new readers whom I may never see again.

This series has been a adventure and I want to thank everyone for going on it with me. It was a adventure in playing with a new writing style, playing with a new type of story. And to think, it all started with the idea of a trope filled on shot for two friends’ birthdays.

There is always something bitter sweet to me about a series ending and with the end of the year near, I find myself looking back at how far I've come. I've finished Silent Song this year. I started and finished Clover and Lace. I finished The Things You Find (In The Rain). And now, I've finished Coffee and a Wedding as well.

I want to thank everyone who donated to the Kofi or cheered me on while I raised funds to go to NYC for my birthday. I want to thank @winterisakiller and @tnystrk-exe who supplied so very many tropes to this tropefest.

Here it is- a special Monday night treat. Chapter 12, about nine hours early. 

Masterlist

Chapter 12:

Morning came with a pounding headache and too bright sun. I couldn’t think and I wanted to drink the whole of the ocean, salt be damned. But that would mean moving and moving was something I didn’t want to do. Moving was going to hurt in so many different ways. I swear to God, I am never going to drink again. Not a drop. But that’s what everyone says when confronted with a hangover, right?

Speaking of hurting, everything ached. I fought to right my brain through the fog of the hangover and sleep. I was beyond comfortable, at least I had that much going for me. I was naked, I realized, and pressed against Clint. He was also naked.  

His arms were draped around me. My head rested on his chest and shifted slightly with every deep breath he took. The room smelled of stale air and sex. I could feel the dried evidence of the night before on my thighs but my mind couldn’t wrap around what that meant at the moment. Though I knew it was something.

My leg was hooked over his, bent and riding up his thigh. I could feel him resting against it. My hand rested on his chest and even though I was still foggy at best, I couldn’t resist the urge to run my hand over the muscles. One of Clint’s hands rested low on my hip and the other wrapped around my rib cage. His thumb rested under the swell of my breast.  

I didn’t want to move. I wanted to stay here forever and never face reality again. But that wasn’t an option. The game was coming to a close. Once we got on the plane today, it was all over. He would go back to only being my boss. I would go back to only being an employee. And I’d be okay with that, somehow. I had to be okay with that, somehow.  

This shouldn’t have happened. I shouldn’t have let this happen. It was a mistake. I untangled myself from the sheets and Clint’s arms. He groaned and shifted, throwing his arm over his eyes.  

“It’s not morning yet.” He whined. “Come back.”  

“Need to shower.” I grumbled, “Go back to sleep.”

I looked passively around the room after slipping on Clint’s shirt. Something to cover myself was better than nothing. The bottle of wine was never even opened. The dress Clint had spent so much money on was in a crumpled heap on the floor along with his suit. His blazer was wet, having soaked up the ice from the bucket as it melted overnight.

After grabbing a change of clothes, I slipped into the bathroom. I’d not seen anything in the trashcan in the lobby and the trashcan in here was empty too. It dawned on me how stupid we were. That’s what I felt dried on my thighs.  

Did we talk about it? I couldn’t remember but that didn’t mean we didn’t. It also didn’t mean that we did. Would it be rude to ask now? Was it too late? I mean, let’s be real- Clint’s too responsible to have anything?

I cranked the shower on and used the hot water to wash away as much of my worries as I could. I wasn’t worried about a pregnancy- I had gotten a IUD a few years prior but still. By the time I was out of the shower, I had decided not to worry about things. I felt pretty sure that Clint wouldn’t have given me anything, he was generally responsible, right? I mean, sure this was his mistake as much as mine but still.  

By the time I finished washing and dried, Clint had pulled himself out of the bed. He was making coffee in nothing but a pair of shorts when I came out. I had all my things from the bathroom balanced on a towel.  

“Coffee’s hot.”  

“Thanks. Shower’s free.” I said as if it wasn’t obvious.  

“Thanks, Babe.” I ignored him and shoved my few toiletries into the clear travel bag. Of course, Clint noticed and asked, “You okay?”

“Fine. Just tired. Not looking forward to the flight.” I lied.  

“Yeah- I could sleep for a year.” Clint nodded only to groan and rub his head. “Here.” He handed me a cup of coffee, doctored to my liking and smiled at me with warmth in his eyes. “I’ll jump in the shower. Check out is in almost two hours.”

“Right. I’ll get packing.”  

~~~~~<3

With a hangover between us, there was a blessed silence while we rode in the taxi. He listened as I talked, worked my way through idea after idea as to how I would tell my family that our fake relationship ended.  

“I could just tell them that everyone put too much pressure on us.” I decided. “Too much judgment. Too many snide comments. Questions.” I decided. Sometimes simple was better and honestly, if we had a real relationship during this trip it would be a fair reason for it to end. It was hard to ignore all the wonderful things Clint had said when he defended me.

“Okay.” He said.  

After a few minutes of silently chewing at my lip, I gave up. “Thank you.” I said. “For putting up with it. For all the drama, trouble. For Matt. You’re almost off the hook and I promise I won’t put you in this position again.”

“I could,” He softly spoke. “put up with it. I mean, for longer.”

“But you don’t have to.” I laughed though I wanted to cry. “Lucky you.”

“And if I wanted too?” I wasn’t sure if I heard him right. I mean, what did that even mean?

“We need to go.” I said instead when the taxi came to a stop. I could see mom getting out of the taxi a few cars in front of us. I didn’t want to talk to her. I didn’t want to see her. I didn’t want to pretend anymore. I wanted to get home and cry.  

There was a crack of thunder as Clint opened the taxi door. As I put my foot on the asphalt, the sky opened up. Torrential rains fell from the sky. Yep, that was how my day was going to go.

Clint wrestled the bags out of the trunk and made quick work of checking them in at the curbside baggage drop. I hardly made it out of the cab before he was offering me his hand with a bright smile. In the distance behind him, I could see more and Kurt making their way inside the airport. They looked as tired as I felt. I didn’t think they were paying us any attention.  

Still, Clint wasn’t one to take a chance. He pulled me to him and we danced, spinning in the rain. My clothes and hair were quickly soaking up the water, as was his but he didn’t seem to care.  

It took a bit for me to give in. But after a few dips, twists and turns he had be smiling at him. I couldn’t help laughing as people watched him pull me into a kiss.  

“Get a room.” Someone shouted and I realized it was Kurt.  

I had no idea when he and Mom made their way back outside the airport but at some point they did. I rolled my eyes and stepped away from Clint. He didn’t let go of my hand though. I guess the act was back on.  

“I’ll call when we get back to the city.” I promised though I knew already that I was more likely going to text them and call it good enough.

“You better.” Mom demanded.

~~~~~<3

I was beyond glad to get off the airplane. The moment we took off, I focused on trying to sleep. Clint seemed to do the same and both of us dozed most of the long flight. Now that we had our bags and my legs were moving, I felt much better. My head was clearer and my heart heavier.

“About last night.” Clint blurted out as we walked by a Starbucks in the airport. I didn’t want to talk about this. I didn’t want to acknowledge this. I didn’t want to give voice to the demon for fear I’d make it real. But he had to go and bring it up.  

“It’s fine.” I said, putting on the bravest face I had. “I’m going to go grab a taxi and get home. I’ll see you Monday?”  

“Wait a second?” Clint looked between the cafe and me. I smiled and shook my head. “We should talk about it- I mean we-”

“No, it’s fine. We were drunk. It’s whatever. And… I think I want to be alone for a little bit. I haven’t been since we left for the trip, you know?” I didn’t wait for him to answer. “I’ll see you Monday.” I smiled as bright as I could and walked away with a wave.  

When Clint didn’t follow me, I breathed a heavy breath. It took everything I had to hold myself together. I could close my eyes and still see the weight of everything as it settled on his shoulders. He didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve to carry with him knowing that he got drunk and had sex with his college age employee. He deserved better than that. He was a good man and a good boss.  

“Wait!” Clint’s voice had the amazing ability to carry over distances.  

I hadn’t thought anything of the sound of running feet- people run in airports. His voice was what made me turn and look. He skidded to a stop in front of me, no coffee in his hands.  

“What, Clint?”

“I like you.” He blurted out. “Maybe could even love you.”  

“Stop.” It was hard to keep from yelling. His mouth snapped shut. “I am tired. You’re tired. We just spent a whole trip pretending to be in love. We got drunk and had sex. It’s fine. Yeah, I’m young but I’m a big girl. I can handle it. Don’t worry. Just- go home and rest before you feel pressured into making promises or say things you don’t mean.”

“What?” He looked deflated. I told myself it was just that he was tired. He was wound up, thinking he had to do something- to be something for me because the night before.  

I said, “I’ll see you Monday.” and turned.  

The heels of my boots echoed against the tiles. It felt like the airport was empty and that I was alone yet people moved all around us as I walked away. I didn’t dare to look back, not directly. Instead I used a window as I walked by. It was just reflective enough to see Clint standing where I left him, rooted in place and my heart broke. That was the instant I decided that I wouldn’t see him on Monday. I couldn’t do this. I thought I could but I cant.  

~~~~~<3

Somehow, I managed to make it home before breaking down. Even as tears dripped from my chin, I texted mom that we made it home just fine. I told her we had a blast on the trip. She told me of how Sarah had made a scene at the wedding not long after we left. She was wine drunk and screamed at the groomsmen. Matt had to take her back to the hotel room early.  

It turned out, Sarah had changed her flight and left not long after we were in the air. She was on a single ticket, leaving Matt behind on the island. What that meant for them or their future was anyone’s guess. While Mom held onto hope that they would work things out. She had hope that Sarah could still accomplish her dreams of going back to school with financial security, I had other ideas. I hoped that it meant that Sarah would file for an annulment and move far away from Matt.  

I spent the weekend unpacking. The dress Clint purchased was hung with care in my closet, still needing a trip to the dry cleaners. I hardly left the apartment except for running to the corner store for more wine, more chips and most importantly- ice cream. By the time classes resumed, I planned to not even fit into the cursed dress from the wedding. It wasn’t exactly a healthy coping method but it tasted good at least.

Monday morning came with much dread. I hadn’t heard from Clint all weekend but I hadn’t expected to… But I wanted to. I wanted him to blow up my phone. I wanted him to prove to me he cared. I wanted him to show me I was wrong. I wanted my fairy tale.  

But I’m not a child anymore. I don’t get fairy tales. I don’t get fairy tale endings. I get to get wine drunk before four in the afternoon. I get to ignore my phone all morning. I get to block the cafe’s number. I get to block the other supervisors.

By Wednesday morning and my third missed shift, Mr. Barton started calling. Then he texts, wanting to know if everything was alright. Did he do anything wrong? Was I sick? Did I need anything? Finally, he asked for me to just talk to him. I had to answer, somehow. I had to tell him something.  

“Mr. Barton, I quit.”  

I sent the text with my breath held. I watched with baited breath as the read receipt changed from ‘unread’ to ‘read’. The screen changed to reflect an incoming call from the last person I wanted to talk to. After rejecting the call, I made quick work of blocking the last connecting to Arrowhead cafe.

~~~~~<3

Somehow, I managed to survive until Saturday. I busied myself during my last free week before classes with looking for a new job. Nothing seemed right but I applied with as many positions as I could. I needed something.  

Outside, rain poured down in sheets and thunder cracked. Wind whistled down the street and between the buildings. Part of me wondered if power would hold out for the rest of the night. It wouldn’t be the first time this shitty apartment lost power due to a storm and it wouldn’t be the last.  

When the pounding started at my door, I almost jumped out of my skin. At first, I wasn’t going to answer. I was riding a nice buzz from the wine and had worked myself a nice sized crater into the tub of Chocolate ice cream I had been nibbling. When the pounding didn’t stop, I had no choice but to slip off the windowsill I had curled up in.  

I didn’t think about it what I was wearing as I walked to the door but god, I wish I did. All I knew was the pounding wasn’t stopping and it was almost one in the morning. I didn’t want to open the door without looking through the peep hole but then the last voice I ever wanted to hear came bellowing through the door.  

“Alexis!” No. No, not home. Go away. Maybe if I pretended to be asleep? “I just want to talk. To make sure you’re alright.”  

“I’m fine, Mr. Barton.” I tried so hard to sound fine too.  

“So I’m ‘Mr. Barton’ now?” He sounded tired and I wondered if it was my fault. Maybe he was having to work extra to pick up my slack. Maybe no one could pick up my shifts. It didn’t matter, though. “Let me in. Let’s talk.”

“Go home. There’s nothing to talk about.” I yelled through the door.

“I’ll stay out here all damn night then! Yelling. You’re neighbors are sure to notice. Maybe someone will call the cops. Want to see what happens?” Oh man, that was a low move. I scrunched my eyes closed and swallowed the urge to scream.  

Instead I yanked open the door and reached out, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him inside. The door slammed shut behind him. “That’s not fucking fair.”

“Do you ever wear pants at home?” Clint asked, looking at me than running his hand through his hair and looking away. Right. Boyshorts and a large tee. Why can’t I just be allowed to die. “Doesn’t matter.” He decided as I crossed my arms over my chest.  

“What do you want?” I snapped.  

“To know why you just up and quit!” He snapped back. “Everything was great and then we got back and you’re just-” He flung his hands out when he couldn’t find the word he wanted.  

“Fuck you.” I snarled.

“You did. Or rather. I fucked you and you just-”

“Yes. You fucked me! How could I go back to the cafe after that? Pretending like none of this happened?!”

“I asked if you were sure!” He snapped back before taking a calming breath and running his hands down his too pale face. “Look. We were drunk. I was drunk. But if you didn’t want to- you could have said ‘no’ and I would have stopped in a heartbeat. I’m not- I don’t want to be that kind of man. I never wanted to take advantage of you.”

“You didn’t. I wanted it.” I grumbled the words. This wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have but dammit I couldn’t let him think even for a moment that I hadn’t been on board with what was happening that night.  

“Then what’s the problem?!” Clint’s voice was climbing again.

“I didn’t plan on you going to the wedding. I didn’t plan on spending so much time with you. I didn’t plan to fall in love with you. I didn’t plan any of this, so leave. Just go so I can get over you in peace. Alright? I don’t need-”

“Look- I know you’re pissed off at me right now. I know I showed up unannounced and made a scene. But I think you just said ‘I didn’t plan to fall in love with you’ and I really need you to rewind.”

“I… wait- what?” I didn’t say that. I couldn’t have. Did I? Fucking wine and ice cream.

“Alexis- are you in love with me?” Clint stepped closer.  

“What? No. Why would I-?” I couldn’t find the words to properly dig myself out of this. “Look- I just didn’t want to make things hard for you, to put your reputation at risk or anything. It’s bad enough what you had to go through last week.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” At least he wasn’t yelling anymore.

“Because I didn’t- You don’t feel the same way, you couldn’t- I’m me and you’re you. So why get hurt?”

“I don’t feel the same way?” Clint’s face was blank and I nodded. “Jesus Christ- I told you, I tried to tell you- what do I have to do to make you see?!” He snapped. So much for the yelling being done.  

“See what?!” I stomped my foot. How very adult of me.  

Clint reached out and snagged a hand around my waist. There was nothing I could do to stop myself from crashing into him. A hand tangled in my hair as he pushed his lips against mine. I was tense at first, unsure of what was happening.  

Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the fact that this is what I’ve been wanting from the moment I got home but I eventually relaxed. The kiss turned soft and sweet as I ran my hands along his arms, up his chest and rested a hand against the side of his neck. Stubble scratched at my face and his breath fanned over me.  

“I love you too.” He whispered.

~~~~~<3

It’s been a few years now, and I still work at Arrowhead Coffee for a few hours on the weekends. The mornings where we opened the cafe together were some of my favorite times, even if he still occasionally flirted with the espresso machine. A girl can’t win every fight.  

The sun wasn’t even up yet but in an hour, it would start coloring the sky a little at a time. I still wasn’t really a morning person but this- this was worth it. I was surprised to see the cafe windows still dark. Clint normally at least had some lights on by now.  

As I got closer, I realized it wasn’t as dark as I thought. Inside the windows I could see little candles perched on each table. Firelight flickered and danced. Flowers were everywhere.  

When I slipped inside, I called for Clint. Soft music played over the speakers. I couldn’t help but laugh when he stepped out of the back. He was far overdressed with his smart suit for working in a cafe.  

“May I have this dance?” He asked as he drew closer.  

I realized, as I let myself be pulled along the flower petal covered floor that he was wearing the same suit he had worn that night, so long ago. I also realized that the flower petals were getting crushed, squished into the wood floor and that it wasn’t going to be fun to clean this up. Romantic gestures tended to be messy- they don’t show you that in the Lifetime Romcoms.  

The song came to an end and for a moment, Clint held me. There wasn’t anywhere else I’d rather be. I couldn’t imagine being in the arms of anyone else. This was paradise. This was heaven.  

Clint stepped back and smiled, it was that soft smile that hinted at his lips but danced in his eyes- that smile he so rarely used for anyone or anything but me. I could imagine someday, Clint giving a baby that same smile as he rocked a tiny bundle in his arms.  

He sank down to one knee, completely ignoring how flower petals would be worked into his slacks. Reaching into his blazer pocket, he pulled out a box. It wasn’t black but it was velvet- a deep royal purple that matched the colors of the cafe. My breath stuck in my throat as I covered my mouth with my hand. It was a gesture I had made fun of countless times in movies and yet here I was, standing in the candle light doing that exact thing.  

“Alexis.” His voice was thick and heavy. It reminded me of how he sounded when he woke in the morning. “I can’t begin to say how much you mean to me. I thought it fitting, since everything started here that this should hopefully start here too. I first saw you here and I was captivated by your smile. This is where our fake relationship started. This is where I fell in love with you- far before you knew it. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. I could only nod, before he even got the box open. I was nodding so much that I probably looked like a bobble head. It didn’t matter because I launched myself in his arms, knocking us both to the ground and the box sliding along the floor.  

I didn’t care about rings. He could marry me with a string. “Yes.” I finally choked out, “I’ll marry you.”

~~~~~<3

Please let me know if you wish to be tagged in future works

Tag list: @theheartofpenelope, @bradfordbantams, @ruebx (I posted early- friend!), @hufflepuff25, @0-0-0-0-0-0-0-7, @theoneanna, @alexakeyloveloki, @toozmanykids, @j-u-s-t-4, @missaphrodite23, @bambamwolf87, @nonsensicalobsessions, @tinchentitri, @xoxabs88xox, @queenoftheunderdark, @wegingerangelica, @myoxisbroken, @coyotesongwriting

[creamcoffeelou]

@slowlyseducedbycurls told me to write some angst w fluff and a happy ending so I thought I’d attempt to write an idea that’s been rolling around in my head for a while 

This is def only the beginning of somehting that’s going to be WAY longer

..........

Clouds of smoke hung thick in the air, stagnant and stale between gusts of air from the rarely opened door. A record spun soundlessly from the left of the bar, the DJ having abandoned his booth to use the toilet only leaving the loud ruckus of the men playing pool and talking too loud from the farthest corner of the bar. 

The sign on the outside of the door read gentlemans club, but he’d heard the whispers of the men on the street that this is where men with eyes for other men found themselves in the evening. He’d heard it hushed first, stacked between whispers of sin, only until the gentleman he’d been speaking with had realized he didn’t have a wife. 

“Nothing wrong with a queer, son” He’d said, “We just don’t take well to the type that leave their wives at home alone to frequent them clubs,” one of the men he’d had the conversation with had cut in from across the bar, lips cracked from the smoke of his cigarette. 

He wondered how many of the men that found themselves through the seedy doors of the club did leave their wives behind to see the barely-legal boys that danced in heels and dresses on the stage. 

Those hushed conversations were how he found himself at the farthest end of the bar at Crimson Rose. 

“Blondie at the end of the bar bought you a drink,” The bartender said with a gravelly, long-term smokers voice at a break in the thumping of the music. He’d been barely there all evening, only floating around when his coke had been empty for several minutes. Louis couldn’t blame  him, really. He knew drunks tipped better. 

“Can you make it virgin? Charge him full price if you like, he doesn’t look the type to tip well.” That got a laugh from the man, but he just moved wordlessly to make his drink. 

As soon as the glass was placed in front of him the man at the edge of the bar moved to the seat beside him. He smelled like stale cigarettes and rum. All Louis could do was smile to keep himself from turning his nose up. 

“You’re not from around here.”

“I’m just passing through town.” He smiled, turning in his seat to completely face the man opposite him. “I’ll be honest, I’m not really about the small talk. Do you want to get a room tonight?” 

He ran a hand through his hair and ran his tongue over his teeth, waiting. 

“You’re sure?” He said next. Louis quirked an eyebrow and nodded. 

“I’ll be outside. Meet me out there once you’ve paid both of our tabs.” He ran a hand down the bare skin of the man’s arm, with a playful smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”

He left, then, walking outside with quiet steps. 

He stood outside for barely ten minutes before the man joined him, a hand on his hip. “Let’s go.” 

He hailed a cab from the corner as the man kept a firm hand around his waist. 

It was a silent ride to the hotel room, the silence filled with the empty promise of a night to remember. 

Louis wasn’t sure what the other end of that night looked like. Whether the man beside him had a wife, a family, a job. He didn’t really care. Those weren’t the thoughts filling his mind as he sat beside a face that felt too familiar.  

It didn’t matter, really. 

The cab ride was quiet. Each of them stayed on their respective sides of the seats, silence heavy between them as the eight track cassette that the driver had restarted after it finished. 

The hotel was closer than Louis thought it would have been and they made their way inside too fast. 

The elevator and the roomkey and everything felt like a blur of moments that Louis could barely focus on. All he could bring himself to focus on was the  bag that hung around his shoulder. 

And yet, as soon as they were inside Louis’ mind felt hyper focused. 

Kissing the man who’s name he didn’t care to remember felt wrong. 

Every part of him wanted to reject it, and yet he stayed. Let him touch him as he peeled off pieces of clothes that weren’t meant to come off. 

The room he’d booked was a full suite; a living room and a bedroom. The TV was on, playing some news anchor who droned on in the background the Louis was more interested in than the lips pressed against his own. 

“Let me make you a drink. Then we can go to bed.” 

“Oh that’s alright –“ Tension spread through the man’s muscles all at once as he leaned forward, body following Louis’ movements as he moved from his lap to pad across the floor. 

“We’re in no rush, right?” He bit his lip with a gentle smile, eyebrows raised just slightly. “We have all night, right?” He watched with wide eyes as his body language relaxed, body falling back to rest in his chair once again. Louis doubted he even realized how much he told with his movements, the story radiating off of him in full phrases as Louis watched him. 

He mixed the drink with his finger as he walked, sucking the tequila off of it with hollowed cheeks as he let his eyes rake over the man in front of him. Tasteless, scentless. 

Clean and easy. 

He planted himself back onto his lap as he pressed the glass into his hand. 

He took one drink, then two. Pausing between each to rake his eyes up and down the expanse of Louis’ exposed skin. 

Minutes passed. He sipped at his own soda, watching as the redness in the cheeks of the man across him deepened. 

“You remember me, right?” Louis asked, running his tongue over his teeth. The smile fell from his face as Louis wrapped the lace of his robe tighter around his body. 

“What?” 

“let me give you a little reminder. I was sixteen and you were at a party with some of your,” He paused, grimacing, “Friends.” 

A flash of recognition swept over his face all at once and Louis smiled with a closed mouth. It wasn’t forced for the first time throughout the entire night, and that sent some sort of twisted satisfaction up Louis’ spine. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Oh, such a shame. Because I think you do.” 

He was certain that the man in front of him knew exactly what he was talking about, without so much as a doubt in his mind. He’d been one of the five men that had ruined his life, and he wanted nothing other than the revenge he knew he rightly deserved. 

He stood there for a moment once the movements stopped. 

The silence felt too loud. Deafening. Yet it quieted some of the ruckus inside of his head. Not all of it, not enough of it, but some, and that was the start that Louis knew he needed. 

He ran his hands down the front of his shirt, smoothing out some of the wrinkles there. Then he took a last glance at the animal, finally in hell where he belonged, on the ground in front of him. A smile spread over his face as he walked out of the motel doors, peace resting on his shoulders instead of the burden of his past. 

Morning came much too fast. 

He felt rested but his eyes felt heavy as he nursed the cup of coffee that his waitress refilled graciously without nicety or small talk. He leaned himself over the counter, guarding the coffee with tired eyes and a sore body. 

A body took the seat next to him and his eyes darted over. Too many rings on long fingers caught the glimmer of early morning light cast from the window, attached to pale hands. 

“Whole bars open, you know.” He said first, straightening out his hunched back as he glanced over. 

“You took something from me, and I’d like to know why, exactly.” 

“Afraid you’ve got the wrong guy. I’m just passing through town.” 

“Well ain’t that something. I could have sworn your name was Louis Tomlinson, and last night you murdered Samson Trell.” 

He stiffened, back straight as he finally looked clearly at the man that sat beside him. The entire diner had cleared out, his eyes darting from table to table where he knew people had sat just minutes before. His eyes raked over him then, surveying the crisp press of his gray suit coat that matched the hat that sat on the counter just beside him. 

“You writin’ a book or something, or are you gonna let me enjoy my coffee in peace?” 

“I’d like it if you answered my question, actually.”

“Didn’t hear a question there.” 

“Did you murder Mr. Trell?” 

“No, I did not.” In his mind, it wasn’t a lie. What he did wasn’t murder – just revenge in the only form he could ever see it taking. The man beside him hummed, but he didn’t sound convinced. “You seem to know my name. Mind if I get yours?” 

“I do mind, actually. Now, I’d like it if you told me the truth.” His green eyes glowed brighter in the morning sunlight, flakes of brown and gold swimming in too-big irises, but they felt darker as he shifted his shoulders, revealing the gun tucked into the seam of his pants. 

“You a cop?” He didn’t get an answer, instead just a a lifted eyebrow and a slight frown. “I didn’t murder anybody.” 

“See, now I gave you two chances,” The man said with a perfectly straight toothed smile that felt genuine yet somehow still sent a chill down Louis’ spine. “You’re gonna tell me the truth this time, or I’m going to kill you.” 

A different kind of dread seeped down into Louis’ stomach at that moment, eyebrows drawing down with slightly parted lips. 

“When I tell you that I did, are you going to shoot me anyway?” 

“Depends on how good of an explanation you have for why.”

He grit his teeth, sighing on an exhale. “He raped me three years ago. Took me this long to find him and get to him.” There was a pause between them, then. He felt the other man’s eyes raking over him, an imaginary heat radiating against his skin where he looked at him even if his gaze looked neutral. “I didn’t murder anybody. He got what was comin’ to him and if you wanna kill me for that then I don’t know what to tell you.”

Louis just looked at him, trying to hold the same intensity of his gaze even over the pounding of his heart. 

“I’m not going to kill you, but it doesn’t take away the fact that you took something that belonged to me.”

“I certainly wasn’t aware that he belonged to anyone,” Louis scoffed. “I’m not sure what you’re playing at here, but why don’t you leave me be? I’m just trying to have my breakfast so I can leave town and you can forget all about me.” 

“Well, darling, if I just forgave every debt I was owed what kind of businessman would I be?” 

“Do you always draw everything out so much? Can you just get to the point? Good Christ.” 

“Well Mr. Tomlinson, since it seems you’d like me to be blunt, you’re going to replace Mr. Trell. You won’t be taking his job, specifically, but from now on you’ll answer to me. In return, I won’t kill you.” 

“If I say no?” 

“I don’t take you to be that stupid.” 

“I don’t take well to being given an ultimatum.” Louis raised an eyebrow, frowning. “And you haven’t even so much as told me your name.” 

“You can know my name once I know your answer.” 

“Between the choices of dying and answering to you I’ll obviously join the latter.” 

He finally got a smile from the man across him who stood, replacing the hat on top of his head after setting a five dollar bill onto the counter. He reached out a hand with confident movements and Louis found himself standing, too, motions coming before the thoughts felt solid in his head. He considered himself a master at reading people, yet he drew a blank with this man. All he could do was meet his hand and shake it, his grip firm and solid and the rings cold against his fingers. 

“My name is Harry Styles. Let’s take a walk.” 

[dulharpa]

this is for hayley! @whistlingwillows a dear friend <3333

it’s meant to be a birthday present haha. i just want to shower you in love;;; so thought maybe i could go through as many of your fics and comment on them :^)))

(TO EVERYONE ELSE: please go to @whistlingwillows blog and read her fics!!! they are SO FCKIN GOOD AND AMAZING AND UGH HER MIND (it’s a lot of mcu and her bucky and steve fics are a*. i DEFINITELY RECOMMEND))

i wish you a VERY happy birthday and i hope we stay friends for many more years <3333333333 

i’m going through your masterlist heehee ;)))

ah first off, nice theme! i never could rlly see it before because i’m always on mobile heehee. also sorry for not reviewing them before??? i don’t usually read fics on tumblr as you’ve probably guessed;;

anyways, IM GON REVIEW THE SHIT OUT OF THESE >:DDDD

far from home -  bucky x stark sister!reader

firstly, i like how youre introducing the reader from buckys pov, like you can sort of already gather what shes like from them

‘Bucky can hear Tony’s soft inhale, feel the intensity of the man’s glare directed at Steve. He shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but a twitch of muscle would be enough to alert both men that he’s here. With the amount of tension crackling in the air, a brush against the wall would be equivalent to a thousand cymbals crashing in cacophony.’

IM CRYING ALREADY. the imagery in here is GLORIOUS. your tone here is so fitting! oo and the alliteration here is perfecto

ooooooo!! the backstory coming in  👀👀

‘despite what some people think that Steve and Captain America are two different personas, there will always be parts of Steve in the Avenger, and parts of the Avenger in Steve. They both want to believe in something good. They are, after all, one in the same.// Just as how Bucky and the Winter Soldier are the same man despite everything. HYDRA simply amplified the hate, fertilized the seeds of rage, curated the quiet thunder within his soul, within James Buchanan Barnes so that the Winter Soldier could thrive.’

yIKES! lol this is very character study like! nICE. it hurts tho, my poor children, i love you both 

oo ‘starlight eyes’ that is a very nice way of describing them

‘“Then what was London?” The protesters. “São Paulo?” The earthquake. “Vancouver?” Freezing cold water.//“Look, I care if Stark’s gonna run us over trying to find her. I care enough because she’s part of our team. Come off it, Steve. I know she can take care of herself. I’m gonna take a nap. Dr. Cho said no partying post-Singapore and what do you know, we throw the biggest party ever.’

ooo singapore uwu and london? (coincidence? haha jkjk) and the hints abt reader and buckys background are so good?? but so annoying??? like i just wanna KNOW yknow?? 

‘The water runs copper and the sting bites at his palm as he tries not to think. Tries to focus on the numbing cold that runs over his skin.’ 

your imagery is so vivid?? im actually in awe??? i am so regretful i havent kept reading your fics. like i know they are amazing, i just keep putting them off??? idk man. hopefully this makes up for it (gd tho, im still not done with commenting on one fic. this is what im doing with my motivation teehee ;)

‘ He feels weak. Tired. He wants to go back to bed but he also wants to stay out in the sun for a few hours more. The sun kisses his skin through the windows and he squints against the blue sky, wondering ‘

mood during this quarantine lol

‘“Oh, right.” Your voice is flat, uninterested, cold, as you stare at him. “You killed my parents.”Shit.‘

 OUCH LMAO THATS C O L D, O GOT +100 PHYSIC DAMAGE FROM JUST READING THAT

ooo robin as a nickname noice. very much gives me batman vibes lol

oh! and the way of doing the ‘flashback’ is neat! very original. it both tells us what happened AND buckys reaction to it again. he can re-analyse himself and reader. very cool

‘If you walk away now, don’t bother coming back!” Silence. Bucky can hear his own strained breathing, your soft sigh as you soaked in his ultimatum.’

👀👀 yikes that ultimatum. :// not good bucky. tbf theyre both trying to hurt each other but Yikes

eyy!!! readers pov!! finally! and the switch after we find out the outsiders pov? brilliant

oh no :(( more angst

‘When’s the last time you saw your therapist?”“Don’t have one. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”’ they BOTH need therapists;;;;

very good fic!!! :DD they rlly do hate each other! i definitely like how you went back and forth with the timeline! it gave me a v strong idea on what yn was like even before we rlly got introduced. i am now very curious on where reader is? i love your characterisations! 

i will read the 10k+ fics but heck the last one took me ages lolol (i will comment in the future tho!! i promise <3 ) (that took me over an hour jjhghgdjh)

slipping away- amnesiac modern bucky x reader

omg,,, AMNESIA! >:DDDDDD

‘ Put your fucking seatbelt on’

oh no, istg theyre going to have a car crash arent they (’ doesn’t put the seatbelt on to spite you.’ NO PLEASE PUT IT ON U DUMBASS)

ok,,,,, at LEAST he put it on before he got hit, thank heck. but still. youre so cruel to your poor characters lmaoo

oh gosh

‘You fall apart slowly, like pieces of you peeling away until you’re nothing more than your broken heart. The sobs that wrack your body are relentless and you shove your forearm into your mouth to muffle your cries. You want to bite into your skin. You want to distract yourself from the agony tearing you to shreds. You want to feel anything but the pain.///Tears sweep into your hair, cloud your vision and your whole face floods with heat as you try to breathe through the pain. You’re cleaved into pieces on that bed, eyes squeezed shut as the tears keep flowing, and your throat burns’

this hurts damn, it is so vivid?? i can really feel it 

i am so glad you got into writing yk?? so glad

NO PLS, TELL HIM. TELL HIM :((( ‘shes nice once you get to know her?? shes known nat for years now!! years!!

oh god ‘he looks younger without the burden of your time together’ this is so angsty omg

‘Well, he was stumbling through his apology and I just let him finish.” Your body fills with warmth as you remember his embarrassed smile, the way he shoved his baseball cap farther down his head, chin tucked to his chest, trying to hide that face. “When he was done, I opened my mouth to say something polite but what came out was ‘You look like someone I’d very much like to kiss’.”

this is so soft i stg im crying in the club

OH SHITTTTTTTTTTT , you left it off like that!!! thats so cruel!!!! i can’t!!! how dare you!!!! :””””””((( im typing this with tears in my eyes ill have u know!!

anyway!!! very good fic!! you could honestly make that into a longfic very easily lol. i felt too many emotions :(( 

i was just about to say where is the fluff!! where is it!! when i saw the next one and yay :))) pls i cant have more angsty stuff rn

.

cookies and rings and things bucky and reader

‘how much do you love me?’ ‘count the snowflakes, multiply by a million’

did you have to start the fic off with such a SOFT line? its so soft! so TENDER 

‘He wonders what kinda insane person wears socks without any clothes on, but then decides that it’s the kind of person who’s fallen in love with him.’  jesus, the soft moments filled with love are the greatest <3

you can write fluff so well, whyd you have to pain me with all that angst ;””””) (1/10 hurt, 9/10 comfort is the way to go lolol) (jkjk ill read the angsty ones too when i have the spoons) (gonna reread that hydra steve one and ik thatll fuck me UP)

‘ Then, he can feel the cold metal of the ring she slid onto her own finger less than twenty-four hours ago and realizes that he had thought a lot of things shouldn’t be possible, and yet they still are. ‘

you literally brought me to tears reading this softness, you have truly found my weakness

‘ She’s so damn gorgeous with flour on her face and eye bags beneath her eyes that he’s sure she will inevitably make his heart burst ‘

he already likes her so much! i can’t believe this is affecting me so much :’)

‘Bucky is quite sure Sam is in love with his girlfriend in the fact that he’s in love with the fact that his girlfriend is possibly in love with Bucky’

this is so soft??? sam loves reader bc reader loves bucky sm. pls my hear <3333

you do fluff SO WELL DAMN 

‘F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice echoes in his small little perch and he still thinks it’s weird without having the side effect of Stark in his suit chasing after him to hear the A.I. but he shoves that uncomfortable feeling of the dead man out of his head. That is too much regret to unpack right now on a mission. ‘

yike bringing back that reminder oof

but thats so soft??? (i am def overusing soft but,,,,, i love it and the vibe) she sent him cookies! god i can feel the love  

‘She expresses her feelings through cooking, which Bucky has learnt the hard way. One time, they got into an argument over something stupid—he can’t even remember what started it—and came to the kitchen at 2AM to see her sitting at the kitchen island crying her eyes out and surrounded by baskets of muffins.’

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 my hEART

you show how much they love each other in so many ways??? i am dying

“Alright, I like it.” Rolling his eyes, he pecks her forehead and she smiles victoriously. It’s so adorable that Bucky, with less than three hours of sleep, adds, “God, I want to marry you.//”“What?”//Oh.Shit.

oh my god! i am literally tearing up!!! AGAIN!!!!!!!!

oh shit o am literally crying

your fluff got me crying harder than your angst i hope youre happy

I really hope you enjoy reading this?? i keep forgetting to like text you but i wanted to do something for your birthday. especially in quarantine when everythings gone crazy. one year i swear ill do something REALLY good for you. not making promises bc i hate if i dont. but ill like, learn how to podfic because you D E S E R V E  I T 

ive spent like three hours doing this lolol 

thank you so much for everything hayley!

[lostmynovelties]

the other side of the door (3/3) - jimmy vesey nsfw

part 1 | part 2

about: jimmy brings you home warnings: this is only smut lol word count: 2656 note: uh, sorry this took one hundred thousand years to finish but life’s crazy y’all. thanks to @skjeied as always. also don’t forget to follow @onetimers where i will try to be more active since this baby is done. not totally sure what my plans are for over there but if you have prompts or requests def send them! thanks for reading!

Your face is starting to hurt from the smile that feels like it could split your face. Jimmy has his hand grasped tightly around yours like he’s afraid to let you go and he keeps looking over at you like you might disappear.

When you step into the elevator, he’s immediately on you, his hands in your hair pulling you to him. His mouth finds yours as his tongue grazes over your lip making heat pool between your legs. It’s hot and needy and you return it eagerly with your hands cling to his biceps, bringing him closer to you.

His body pins you to the wall of the elevator and you can feel him press against you firmly. Jimmy’s hand finds its way to your ass, pulling you to him so you can feel him hardening against your thigh.

If you weren’t already keyed up, that would do it. You moan into his mouth and then — ding! The elevator signals you’ve arrived at Jimmy’s floor.

Jimmy pulls back reluctantly. “Can’t believe I get to do that now?” he says, which just really sweeps you off your feet. He presses a quick peck above your eyebrow, a sweet juxtaposition to your previous heated exchange, before taking you by the hand to lead you down the hall.

From outside the apartment door, you can hear loud noises which means that Kevin and Brady must be home. Fuck, you think.

You and Jimmy hadn’t talked about what you were going to tell them or what there was to even tell. If you’re being honest, you really don’t feel like stopping for a discussion with your boyfriend’s friends. Fuck, Jimmy’s your boyfriend. Even, just thinking the word makes you feel lightheaded.

When you look to Jimmy for some guidance, you can tell he’s sensing your hesitation. His crooked smile eases you. “Just keep your head down and follow me,” Jimmy says, his tone mock-serious. “And don’t let go.” He squeezes your hand in his for emphasis and then leans down to kiss you again.

“Ready?” He asks and you nod in response, pulling yourself to him. “Okay, let’s do this.”

The door is unlocked, so Jimmy slowly turns the handle, leading you into the foyer. You hide yourself behind Jimmy’s large frame, feeling both bashful and excited as you make your way towards the living room.

Jimmy’s room is just down the hall from where Kevin and Brady are sat. They’re playing Madden, their attention completely fixated on the flatscreen. You think maybe you just might make it passed the couch and down the hall without them noticing, but then Jimmy trips on the corner of the area rug, drawing their attention.

“Hey,” Brady says as Kevin offers you both a beaming grin.

You don’t have the time to formulate a greeting though, as Jimmy digs his fingers into your palms and drags you by them and into the hallway. “Sorry,” he yells back at them. “Important, official Harvard business.”

You can hear Brady and Kevin snickering around the corner and you have to join in, giving Jimmy an incredulous look. “Really? That was your brilliant plan?” you whisper, barely able to stop yourself from laughing.

“Shut up,” Jimmy laughs as he presses you against his closed bedroom door. And, yeah, that definitely has you shutting up as he moves his hands up and down your sides, teasing you. He moves forward and slots his mouth against yours.

There’s no way Kevin and Brady don’t hear the moan that escapes your lips and your suspicions are confirmed when you hear the volume of the television go up. It secretly turns you on, knowing that they know what’s going on but still you laugh against Jimmy’s mouth and make a mental note to thank them later.

Jimmy opens the door behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist so you don’t fall backward. His mouth doesn’t leave yours as he walks you back to his bed. The back of your knees hit the bed frame and Jimmy gently lays you back against his rumpled sheets.

“You couldn’t make your bed for me, Vese?” you tease, staring up at him where he stands between your legs.

“What’s the point?” He shrugs, shamelessly. “We’re just gonna mess ‘em up again,” he said, leaning down to press his hot mouth against your neck.

“You were really that confident, huh?” you say, stifling back a moan.

Jimmy pulls away for just a moment to say, “I had to be,” before he’s back to kissing along your collarbone. It’s a layered statement that makes your heart clench, but then Jimmy’s undoing the buttons of your blouse and you decide to circle back around to that thought later.

He makes quick work of getting you out of your top, his eyes darkening when he sees your tits spilling out of your bra. He moves down to nip into the soft flesh peaking out, his fingers tracing along the lace edge and dipping beneath to brush against your nipple.

He pushes the cups down and your hands cling to his biceps when he ducks his head to suck bruises into your skin. His tongue finds your nipple, hardening beneath his ministrations, making you gasp.

“You like that?” he says before continuing to pull your nipple into his mouth, his teeth grazing.

“Fuck, Jimmy,” is all you can manage, your fingers digging into his skin. You can feel his smirk against you and you want to respond with something smart. Unfortunately, the words are lost on your tongue when his fingers slide beneath the hem of your skirt, massaging at the sensitive skin of thighs.

Abandoning your breasts, for the time being, he kisses his way down your stomach, your muscles quivering beneath him. He wastes no time slipping beneath your waistband, quickly finding the side zip.

You whine desperately when he pulls back to pull your skirt down your legs. Helpfully, you raise your hips as he slowly drags the offending material past your thighs. You impatiently kick the skirt to the side, watching Jimmy’s reaction as you spread your legs for him. You’re spilling out of your bra and you’re sure Jimmy can see the wet spot of your lace panties spreading between your legs. He stares down at you with dark eyes and you feel hot and desperate for him. He’s chubbing up beneath his sweats and when he carelessly palms at himself, you can’t help but moan.

“Jimmy, please,” you hear yourself beg. In response, he silently falls to his knees, forgetting about his growing cock.

His gaze is hot between your legs, as he runs one of his fingers along your lace covered cunt. The rough sensation has you squirming.

“So gorgeous,” his whispers as he dips his head to nip at your inner thigh. He pushes the crotch of your panties to the side, exposing your folds, grinning. “So wet already,” he says, and he’s so close, you can feel his breath against your center. “All this for me?”

“Yeah,” you whine, bucking your hips up, desperate for his touch, for anything. “Please, I need you.”

In response, he runs two fingers through your folds, up from your center and towards your clit. You’re practically dripping for him and you keen at the contact. His fingers feel so fucking good as you drape your leg over his shoulder, pulling him closer.

When his tongue finally finds your clit you’re afraid you might break his nose with the way your squirming beneath him. With his free arm, he holds down your hips as he continues to lap at your clit. You gasp when he slips two fingers into you and you can feel his smile against you as you try to writhe beneath his grasp.

He pumps his fingers inside you slowly, stroking your walls. You let out a moan as his mouth closes around your clit, the heat of it overwhelming you. You’re just about to find the perfect rhythm with him when he abruptly pulls away.

“What the fuck?” you all but hiss but Jimmy just laughs and kisses at your core again.

“Let me remove these, huh?” he says, his fingers hooking into the waistband and pulling them down your thighs. “Don’t want to ruin ‘em for you.”

It’s sweet, but, “Fuck, Jimmy, they’re probably already ruined now can you please just—”

He sinks his fingers deep into you again, cutting you off. You let out an unbridled moan as he curls them within you. Your hands card through his short curls, guiding his mouth back to your clit. Your hips try to leave the mattress again when he flicks his tongue over you and pulls the sensitive bud back into his hot mouth. His fingers scissor inside you and you hiss at the stretch. His mouth sucks at you as you feel yourself building to release.

When Jimmy adds a third finger, you let out a scream that you know can be heard in the other room but you don’t fucking care because, fuck.

You’re so close and Jimmy’s fingers are filling you so good. He curls them again and you’re seeing stars.

“Fuck, fuck, please,” you beg of Jimmy, spurring him on. He gets the message, his fingers quickly thrusting into you. His mouth leaves your clit, but he immediately covers the bundle of nerves with his thumb and you don’t even care because you’re just so fucking close and--

“Are you gonna be a good girl and come for me?” Jimmy says. And his voice is low and hot.

“Yeah, yeah,” you whine as he continues to stretch you, his thumb circling your clit. “So close.”

“Come on, baby, let me see you,” Jimmy says, his teeth digging into your hip. “Come for me.”

And you do, with a shuddering scream. He rocks his fingers inside you, letting you ride out your orgasm.

When you come down, he pulls his fingers out of you and you groan when he licks them clean. He kisses the inside of your thigh again before moving up to cover you with his body. He licks along the pointed peak of your nipple and back up to suck a bruise against your collarbone before finally finding your mouth with his own.

His kiss is hot and needy and you can feel him hard against your stomach as he presses himself against you. You return his kiss, your tongue tracing along his bottom lip, moving your hands between your bodies to grasp at his cock.

He groans roughly as your stroke him through his pants before he grabs you by the wrist.

“(Y/N), I need to be inside you,” Jimmy says, and you can tell he’s desperate and it makes your cunt clench. “Can I, please?”

You only nod in response, fumbling to get him out of his clothes. Once he’s shed them, he captures your mouth again before going to grab a condom from his dresser.

“Up,” he says when he comes back over and you get to your knees on the mattress. You leave love bites down his neck and chest as he rolls the condom onto himself. Leaning your forehead against him you watch him stroke himself, absolutely loving the way his cock looks with his fingers wrapped around it.

Suddenly, Jimmy’s arms are around your waist and before you realize you’ve got your face presses into his sheets, your ass presented to him. You feel exposed and vulnerable, and you just want Jimmy so badly you can feel how slick your thighs are.

Jimmy takes his cock in his hand and lines himself up with your pussy. He drags the head through you fold before slowly sinking himself into you.

The stretch is incredible. You’ve never fucked from this angle before and already Jimmy is hitting the right places and he hasn’t even started to move yet.

Finally, he does and you feel like you’re in heaven. His cock sinks into your impossibly further before he pulls out only to thrust himself in again.

Jimmy’s dicking into you hard, his fingers leaving small bruises on your hips. You’re gripping desperately at his sheets, just needing something to ground you as he fucks into you.

“Please,” you whine again, your voice muffled as your face presses into the mattress. The sounds you’re making are practically pornographic and there’s not a doubt in your mind that Kevin and Brady can hear you on the other side of the wall, but, fuck, Jimmy’s dick drags over your G-spot and you’re seeing stars.

You slip your fingers between your legs to rub rough circles at your clit as you come. Your cunt clenches around his cock and Jimmy moans at the feeling as your come drips out around him. You can tell he’s growing close as his thrusts begin to lose rhythm and his fingers dig into your ass.

“Babe,” he moans out. “Can you get on your back? Please.” He sounds desperate, his thrusts only stalling slightly. “Please, I wanna see you.” He slaps your ass for good measure.

“I’ll do you one better,” you say, grinding your ass against him before pulling him down next to you on the bed. You swing your leg over him straddle over his hips and sick back down on his cock quickly. The sound of your two orgasms squelches as ride him, your nails digging into his chest.

Jimmy leers at your bouncing tits as you rock over him, feeling him deep in your cunt.

“Fuck, your cock is so good,” you say, your teeth digging into your bottom lip so hard you can taste iron.

His hips smack up against your ass and he’s close. You can feel his cock twitch inside you as your eyes meet. His are dark but soft as his gaze lingers on your face as his spills himself inside the condom, a graveled moan falling from his lips with one last thrust.

“Fuck,” Jimmy says, his hips finally stilling as you collapse your weight on top of him, loving the way his bare chest feels against your naked body. Warm and safe.

He wraps his arms around you and buries his face into the crook of your neck. It tickles a bit and you giggle a bit before he moves to silence you with a kiss. You’re still catching your breath and coming down from the high when Jimmy pulls himself out. You can feel your cunt gap at the loss of him and it makes you blush. Jimmy kisses you again before he gets up to toss the condom into the wastebasket in the corner of the room and grabs you one of his old Harvard hoodies on the way back.

For the moment, you don’t even want to move to pull it on. Instead, you just cling to it as Jimmy crawls into bed behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle. He presses kisses behind your ear and you feel safe and happy, not worried about your interviews or law school or the future. You’re satisfied to just have Jimmy here with you.

Unfortunately, that calm only lasts a few more minutes before you’re startled by banging on the wall.

“If you guys are done with ‘Official Harvard Business’,” you can hear Kevin yell. “Which it sounds like you are. Do you want to order dinner? Me and Brady are fucking starving.”

A blush creeps across your face as you and Jimmy laugh.

“Calm the fuck down, Haysies,” Jimmy yells back. “We’ll be there in a minute.” Then he looks down at you, concerned. “If that’s okay with you, babe.”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I could eat.”

Jimmy smiles again and rolls you over so you’re under him, kissing you.

“Hurry up, lovebirds,” Kevin’s yelling again.

In response, Jimmy just pulls you closer, his hands squeezing at your hips. And yeah, Kevin can wait.

thanks again so much for reading! i would love any feedback y’all have, even if it’s in tags. or if you wanna come into my inbox i love that too. :)

[valkyrieofsmut]

Engel de la Gargouille  Section 2 part 4

Engel de la Gargouille (Gargoyle’s Angel)

Kurt Wagner/ Nightcrawler x Female OC

Types: Smut, Angst, Mutual pining, Pregnancy, Romance, Love, Insecurity, Long as hell…

Overall series warnings: Smut, bit of violence, swearing, German (translations provided, but I have bad grammar… Sorry native speakers…) (Will be added as they come up) Chapter warnings will be added individually as well.

A/n-  Very powerful scene to start with just a hint of self hatred, hey, just to remind you that you don’t need to fit in by others standards? Some awkward dorkiness, and lack of confidence.

Masterlist       Series Masterlist

Story!

Angeline thought through everything she needed to do, getting it straight in her mind so that it would be able to go smooth later, when she was enacting her plan.

She borrowed the keys for one of the cars and drove to the store, wishing she didn't have to do this herself, but knowing that if she went to a professional, even the way her wings were hugged so close to her right now that you couldn't tell that it wasn't just her body under her shirt would be able to save her if they saw her tail while waxing.

Angeline stood in front of the wall of hair removal products, surprised by how many of them were French.

Her mother had always insisted on the best, so she had always gone to a spa to be waxed before, and the different types of products confused her. Luckily, the staff was very kind and helpful, explaining the difference between hard wax and soft wax, and had a DVD that explained the whole process that they put in a bundle of items to get a better price for her.

She went through the make up, picking out a few things to make sure she had what she needed in the colors she needed, and paid for everything before going to the other stores in the mall to gather the rest of what she needed for her plan.

She drove back to the mansion and put the keys back in their place, then went upstairs to her room and laid everything out before going to shower and scrub where she was about to torture.

After drying off and spending what felt like hours ripping the hair from her body, one strip at a time, she made sure there were no hairs or wax left on her and soothed her poor skin with lotion as it healed.

When she was completely done, she pulled on her underthings, which were just her everyday bra and panties, then she stood in front of the mirror on her wall and worked on her hair, brushing, straightening, curling, drying when needed, adding a pin here or there to make a certain look with it, and when she stood back, it looked perfect. Of course. Just like always.

She pulled the bag of makeup to the mirror with her, setting all of it out and applying it. She had watched her mother apply it to her, and herself, so many times, she knew how to move her fingers and twist the brush just right to get the desired effect.

She leaned back from the mirror and saw that she had done, maybe not as good of a job as her mother did, but it still highlighted her face to the perfection she had gotten used to seeing in the mirror when her mother finished.

Last, she dressed. Angeline opened the package of thigh highs and pulled them on, leaving the tops just a little low so you could see the bows at the sides, then pulled on a skirt that she hadn't worn in a long time because it was too short for modesty, brushing the tops of her thighs and leaving two or so inches between the hem and the tops of her stockings.

Next was a shirt, a beautiful deep color that set off her skin, falling off both shoulders to allow her wings to be free, and not quite meeting the waist of her skirt. It was tight enough that the only thing left to the imagination was what color her bra was, and that was a little obvious from her inability to cover the straps on her shoulders.

After pulling on the high heels that gave her a bit more height, she stood back so she could look at herself in the mirror, standing in a pool of moonlight.

She was the height of sexy right now. She almost felt that when she started walking the song Pour some sugar on me by Def Leppard should start playing, like it did when the “sexiest woman alive” character walked in slow motion in the American movies she'd watched with her stepfather.

It was perfect; this is what she was going for, what she had planned on. If she was going to make a last stand to get Kurt's attention, turn it up and give it her all, she was going all out.

She gave a seductive face to the mirror to check if her skills were rusty, but they weren't; they had been ingrained well enough to survive.

Kurt would have to be dead not to notice her, now. She was the height of perfect physical beauty her mother had intended for her to be as she turned and shifted into a seductive pose.

Angeline froze, straightening and staring at her reflection in the mirror for a moment before shifting and looking at herself as a whole.

She was sexy perfection.

She looked just like her mother would have wanted her to for an audition at her age of twenty. 

She had become what she had fought so hard not to. 

She was selling sex for what she wanted. 

She had become her mother's perfect little sex object.

Angeline's heart sped up, starting to race in her chest as she stared at herself.

She was selling herself- for what?

Kurt didn't pay attention to her, and dressing like the slut they accused her to be was probably not going to change that.

She couldn't blame him. There she stood, dressed to seduce, dumbing herself down to how she looked, removing anything that was actually herself until all that was left was this pathetic little whore-

And she hated herself.

She hated the way her hair looked, she hated wearing makeup, she hated the way her shirt hugged her, she hated the way the skirt was so short that she couldn't bend over without flashing whatever kind of underwear she was wearing, she hated these stupid high heels, and the slutty thigh highs, she hated her perfection- she hated that she was doing this for a man.

Even if Kurt was the most amazing man in the world, even if soul mates existed, even if he was the angel to her gargoyle! She was a low little whore like this, and it was not what should be expected of her. Not what she should expect from herself.

She wouldn't want to be around her either.

The strength from the darkness outside and the moonlight falling on her built in her muscles, and suddenly, Angeline grabbed the collar of her shirt, pulling it down and tearing it open.

Anger and hatred for this thing she'd become fueled her as she ripped her skirt off, ripping it apart in her hands again and throwing it away from her as tears slid down her face.

She grabbed at the stockings, tearing holes in them as she fought to get them off without taking off her heels.

She shrugged off her torn shirt and spat on it a few times before wiping at her face and smearing her makeup as she tried unsuccessfully to get it off.

The rage had filled her, and she pulled off a high heel, holding it in her hand and using the point of the heel like a hammer to repeatedly smash the mirror in hatred for what she saw.

Angeline stood, her breath pushing heavily at her chest as she stared at the shattered mirror, swearing she'd never, ever look like that again.  

…    …    …    

Angeline had never been to a real dance, but she supposed that this would be as close to one as she'd be able to find around here; it was one of the student's birthday, and for her party she had wanted to have a “fancy dress ball”, so everyone was wearing their best dress, the men in suits if they had them, and the women in beautiful, though not necessarily fancy, dresses, as not everyone had something that was fit for a ball.

Angeline had been able to find a nice flowing gown that had probably been an event or concert dress for one of the students before, but they had grown out of it, and her slender, five foot one inch frame fit in it, though the thin shoulder straps were too long, giving her some cleavage as her bust filled it out, and the rest of it hung down her body loosely, looking almost Grecian with the hips just catching hers, but dragging the hem on the ground, as she was shorter than the original owner had been.

She liked it, and was feeling happy and hopeful, wanting Kurt to see her in it, not only because she thought it looked pretty nice and would get his attention, but she hoped that if he had been turned off by the revealing way she'd been dressing before, seeing her in this would show that she had stopped dressing like that. She held the hem up, over her arm, walking through the ballroom, looking for a certain tall, blue, and handsome man, hoping that, given the chance to see her dressed in the large, but still pleasant looking cream colored gown might make his eyes turn to her.

She couldn't find him anywhere, but didn't give up, moving through to the dining room where the cake and refreshments were, and through there to the kitchen, where there were people gathered, then out into the hall and down it, still unable to find him.

She had just turned a corner, pausing to look around there, when she heard some of the other girls a year or two younger than her talking.

“Did you see Angeline running all over, holding her skirt up?”

“Yes, probably making sure everyone sees her in that dress,” the answering girl scoffed.

Angeline felt her heart drop. She hadn't even been thinking of anyone else or how she looked as she ran around, just looking around for Kurt, and that's what they thought of her.

What if that's what he thought of her, too?

Her chest tightened and she felt the sudden need to get away from them.

She hurried away from most of the people, to an area that was less crowded, ending up outside on the stairs. Very few people were out here, as it was starting to get very chilly, and the party was inside, but a few still were, farther away from the school.

Angeline drifted down the stairs, now uncertain where to go, and sat on a step, pulling her feet up on the edge and wrapping her arms around her legs. She watched the few other people milling around at least a few yards away from her, and tried to get her heart to untwist itself.

Kurt didn't necessarily think the things those girls had said about her, he probably hadn't even seen her, yet, she certainly hadn't seen him. She couldn't bring herself to get up and go back inside, wanting to see Kurt, but afraid of what he'd think when he saw her. 

She buried her nose in her knees, feeling a shiver run through her shoulders in the chill of the air. Her vision blurred as she stared blankly at the ground below her, her worries tumbling through her head as though stuck in a dryer; around and around, but always in the same place. She had been feeling confident that she would be able to get Kurt's attention tonight, but, after what she had heard, she was concerned about getting the same kind of attention from him.

She had started shivering from the cold seeping through her dress from the stone stairs, and the chill from the air, but she didn't notice, still stuck in her thoughts. Warm, heavy fabric draped itself around her shoulders, and her head turned up to look at who had placed it there. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Kurt, without his hologram, in a nice pair of jeans and a button up shirt.

“You looked cold,” he told her quietly in answer to the question he thought was about to leave her parted lips.

Her heartbeat sped up now, trying to catch up to how quickly her mind was churning. He was so sweet, she wanted to stand so he could wrap his arms around her, wanted to wrap her arms around him…

She smiled down at her knees before looking up at him, about to say thank you, but he was gone. Her heart wrenched as she looked around until she saw him standing far away from her, talking to Rouge and Kitty, then her nose met her knees again as her heart throbbed painfully.

Kurt looked back over to Angeline where she was on the stairs. She was so beautiful, though she seemed disappointed about something right now.

“You were supposta stay there and talk ta her,” Rouge told him.

“She didn't want to talk,” he answered.

“How do you know, with how fast you ran away?” Kitty asked.

“She didn't even want to look at me,” he muttered. The girls sighed and rolled their eyes in unison. “Why would she?” He asked them. “The cheerleaders never talk to the nerds or outcasts.”

“First, she's not a cheerleader, and second, yes they do! Haven't you seen, like, Revenge of the Nerds, or Can't buy me love, or, like, Superbad?”

Kurt shook his head at Kitty and mocked her speech format. “First, if the school had cheerleaders, I'm pretty sure that she would be one, and second, those are movies! They're not real!”

Rouge laughed, but Kitty pouted. “That doesn’t mean that something like that can’t happen in real life,” she grumbled.

“Ach, Kitty! She would not want to talk to me. Besides, even if she did, I would not be able to talk to her…” Kurt muttered.

Kitty raised a fine brow, pursing her lips in thought.

Rouge shrugged a shoulder. “Sounds like ya need a surrogate.”

Kitty and Kurt both looked to her in confusion.

“He’s not trying to have a baby, Rouge!” Kitty squealed as quietly as she could.

Rouge rolled her eyes and shook the styled loose hairs around her head out of her face as she folded her arms. “I meant someone ta practice on, Kitty! Gawd, got ya mind in the gutta!”

“Oh… Well… Yeah, that might work…” Kitty nodded.

Kurt looked at them, worried what they were planning as they both turned to him and started sizing him up.

“‘Course, might have ta-” Rouge paused, biting her lip.

Kitty copied her posture, and nodded, her hand going to her chin. “Yeah… I mean…”

“Have to… what?” Kurt asked nervously.

“Well, it’s nothing big,” Kitty tried to soothe. “Just that… I mean… If she’s not a virgin…”

Rouge shrugged. “I mean, some women like that… but… I mean, I’ve heard, I haven’t-”

Kitty grinned at Rouge. “Oh yeah? I’m pretty sure I saw that big, latex-”

“Kitty Pryde, you keep ya damn eyes in ya own room! Ya sneaky rat!” Rouge growled at her.

Kitty laughed. “We’re trying to help Kurt,” she reminded.

Rouge glared at Kitty, but continued. “It’s just that what Kitty is tryin’ ta say is that first times can be difficult, an’ she wants ya ta have as much edge as possible.”

“Hey, you’re the one that brought it up-” Kitty protested.

“It doesn’t matter,” Kurt cut in. “There’s no way that’s going to happen-”

“Kurt, have a little faith in yourself!” Kitty cut back in.

“You’re a damn nice guy, Kurt, an’ I don’t care what ya’ve heard anyone else say; you’re a handsome man, too,” Rouge snapped at him.

Kurt shifted uncomfortably. “I- I don’t think-”

“Kurt,” Kitty warned.

“But if-”

“I’m going to set you up with one of my friends,” Kitty decided.

Go on dates with a woman that wasn’t Angeline? How awful… “Kitty, please don’t make these decisions on your own-” Kurt pleaded.

“Kurt, it’s just ta practice. It don’t have ta mean anything. As long as she knows, too, no one gets hurt,” Rouge told him.

Kurt shifted again, looking away. “Nein…”

“Well, ooooooookay… But if you change your mind, let me know…” Kitty told him.

.

After the party had broken up, Angeline slowly walked to Kurt’s door. She held his jacket close around her, nuzzling against it to take in the smell. She hesitated outside his door for a moment longer before knocking.

There was no answer, and she knocked again after a moment. Angeline’s hand hesitated midway to the door to knock again. He wasn’t there, it seemed. She had no idea where he was, but, maybe while he was out-

She shook her head to rid herself of the thought; it would be childish to sneak into his room and look around, even if it would be a good way to try to understand and get to know him better. She really wanted to, had thought about it for a while, actually…

Angeline shook her head a little more forcefully and pulled Kurt’s jacket from her shoulders, her wings shuffling a little to adjust to not being covered. She wanted to keep it, sleep with it and keep his smell close to her…

She winced and looked away, a troubled gnawing feeling digging at her stomach; was that thought like one of those that the men who made her feel disgusting had? That they wanted to smell her and-

A shiver ran down her spine and she quickly hung Kurt’s jacket on his door knob, hurrying away before she could think any more about it.

Kurt stood outside of Angeline’s door, reminding himself that he had a reason to be there; he just wanted to talk to her, but had the excuse of getting his jacket…

He knocked on the door, but no answer came. He listened at the door, thinking maybe he would hear her changing or something that would be stopping her from answering, telling him he just needed to wait a bit, but there was no noise inside.

Kurt sighed and leaned his head against the door. He wanted to talk to his beautiful angel- more than the short, five words or less sentences he was able to string together when she was around. He felt stupid that he was around beautiful women nearly all day, every day, and could talk to them just fine, but couldn’t manage to say more than half a sentence to the woman he was sure was the love of his life.

She was probably out with a man who was able to talk to her…

Kurt straightened and looked at the door again.

Maybe he should get a little practice…

He’d at least build some confidence about how to talk to her, and if he was to woo her, which he desperately wanted to do, he was going to have to talk to her.

It wouldn’t really be like he was cheating on her, just like studying beforehand wasn’t cheating on a test…

He would become experienced for her, so that he could talk to her and show her that he deserved her. And, if Kitty and Rouge were right, about the other thing…

Kurt blushed at the thought.

It wasn't like he hadn't thought about it -a whole lot, or at least, he hoped not enough to be a creep- but, he didn't want to embarrass himself either, if she was experienced and expected a certain level of knowledge…

Kurt sighed and bumped his head against her door again before teleporting away.

The things he would do for his love...

…    …   …    

Kurt looked down the hallway, watching the others pass as he waited for Logan to catch up to him.

“Logan,” he greeted as he walked with him.

“Elf,” Logan greeted.

“Logan, do you want to go out for a drink tonight?” He asked.

Logan shrugged. “Wouldn’t say no if you’re buying.”

Kurt laughed and put his hand on Logan’s shoulder. “Of course, Mein Freund.”

.

Logan sat at the table with two pitchers of beer, then filled his glass. “So, I assume you want to talk about something?”

Kurt gave a strained smile through his hologram. “You know me too well, my friend.”

Logan shrugged, drinking as he waited for Kurt to speak.

“The- the new girl… Angeline-” he cut off as he felt that he wasn’t deserving to speak her name.

“She ain’t new. Been here for ‘bout a year,” Logan corrected.

“Well, regardless…” Kurt took a long drink from his mug. “I know that you went with the Professor to pick her up, and that you spend a bit of time with her-” He stopped talking, feeling the heat fill his face.

“Yeah?” Logan asked, draining another glass of beer.

“Well, do you know much about her?” Kurt asked.

“Not really,” Logan answered.

“But, you talk to her-”

“Nah, not really. Training isn’t talking. You train with her, too,” Logan told him.

Kurt gripped his mug tighter. “I know that you know more than what people tell you, Logan,” he told him a little uncomfortably. Logan didn’t comment. “What do you know about her?”

Logan poured the last half a glass of beer from the pitcher and drained it before setting the glass on the table with a thunk. “Maybe you should go talk to her and find out about her yourself.”

“I-I can’t, Logan-” Kurt stuttered.

A waitress stopped by their table and picked up the empty pitcher, giving Kurt a smile. “Let me take that for you boys.”

Kurt automatically smiled back. “Danke, Leibchen.”

She giggled. “Oh, cute, and a sexy voice…”

Kurt’s grin grew a little more flirtatious. “Why, thank you. Your voice is not hard on the ears, either.”

“See, just say that to her,” Logan told him.

Kurt looked at Logan as though he was crazy. “I can’t just say that to her- she’s a beautiful- delicate-”

The waitress gave a bit of a dramatic pout. “Oh, of course you already have a girlfriend…”

Kurt looked back to her, his voice hesitating at the tip of his tongue. Angeline wasn’t his girlfriend, but- he really wanted her to be…

The waitress turned and left, taking his silence as agreement, and Kurt turned back to Logan.

“Why you flirting with waitresses when you’re thinking about her, huh?” Logan asked.

“I-I’m practicing…” Kurt told him as his face heated up.

“Sounds like you got the hang of it. Should go try it on her,” Logan told him as he took another drink.

“Logan- I- what if she hates me?” Kurt asked.

Logan let out a grunt of annoyance. “What if she wants you to come talk to her? She’s been throwing herself at you the whole time she’s been here.”

Kurt’s face burned and he shook his head. “Some- such a delicate-” Logan gave him a look and Kurt swallowed, getting his words in line. “She is so innocent, I doubt she even realizes that it seems that way. She is so sweet- I have never heard an unfavorable word leave her mouth…”

“I have,” Logan told him. “She’s not as soft and tender as you think, Elf. Ya need to go talk to her.” Kurt sputtered for a moment as he denied his ability, but Logan interrupted him. “Ya need to.”

“I can’t, Logan!” Kurt told him, his voice a little desperate.

…    …    …    

Angeline walked toward the door out of the danger room, her eyes on Kurt as he walked out alone.

She wanted to talk to him, but even now, after all this time and all of her attempts, she couldn't manage to speak to him. She wanted to, but every time she tried, she ended up catching herself before she stuttered, but was unable to talk about anything except what they had in common; missions and the team.

Logan’s pace matched hers, and she looked over at him, then away, her cheeks reddening as she wondered if he could tell what she'd been thinking.

“Should talk to him.”

Angeline raised a brow in question as she looked at him. “What?”

“Gotta go after what ya want sometimes. Sometimes what ya want is too nervous to come to you. Even if it wants to.”

“I don't know what you mean,” she told him a little stiffly.

“Yeah, you do.”

“I choose not to know what you mean,” she told him.

“*Go talk to him. Make the first move,*” Logan told her in French.

Angeline looked away. “*I… I don't know how…*” She admitted as she blushed.

Logan turned to her, a look of confused disbelief on his face. “You telling me that you can talk to anyone but him? I seen ya talk to him.”

Angeline's face grew darker. “But not as- trying to-"

Logan shook his head slightly. “He's a man. All ya gotta do is use your assets-"

“Because I haven't been doing that enough for a year,” she mumbled as she rolled her eyes at him.

“-and talk to him,” he continued a little forcefully to show what part was his point.

“*And say what, pray tell?*” Angeline asked sarcastically. “*Your skin is the color of the night sky, just before dawn, and I'd like to see the sky that shade with you?*”

Logan's lip curled in distaste at the sentiment. “All ya gotta do is walk up to him, tell him ya like him, and ask him to, what is it kids go out for these days, pizza? Ask him to go out to pizza with ya.” Angeline shook her head, rejecting his idea. “Listen, shorty, it's the modern world, women ask men out all the time. Just walk up to him and make the first move,” he told her as he pulled a cigar out of his suit and stuck it in his mouth as he headed to the door.

Angeline gave a look after him near a glare. “*Shorty,*” she huffed. She was only two inches shorter than him… 

Though at this height, it was rare to find people who were shorter than you that were over the age of twelve.

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[bellatrixobsessed1]

The Mechanical Dragon (Part 7)

Zirin reaches out and strokes her cheek, the same cheek she had touched time and time before. She tilts her head and takes in the sight of her. Those golden eyes seem to have lost their shine to months of pain and distress. And her hair… she only has it in patches. Zirin brushes her hand over Azula’s head. It is somehow even more disturbing to view the various animal pelts and the clawed talons now that the hog-monkey head is off. Because now she can say for sure that they don’t belong. Because now she can see completely, the suffering they bring their wearer. And those wings, a paste-like yellowy ooze weeps from the places where they were jabbed in. Worser still, Zirin thinks that Azula’s skin is starting to grow around them. Her father will have to make quick work, the more her skin mold and fuse with the foreign wings, the harder they will be to detach. But he very well can’t work on her again now. He doesn’t have the supplies and she can’t imagine that Azula is ready for round two just yet.

 “Why didn’t you tell me that it was you?” Zirin asks. She knows that she isn’t going to get an answer. Regardless she pulls the princess into her arms, taking care to work around her wings. She doesn’t return the embrace, leaving a faint ache in Zirin’s heart. Azula tugs out of the hug. Looking into her eyes is like staring into dismay. She has seen Azula in moods before, but she has never seen the woman’s eyes so blank and hollow, so empty of all emotion save for a dash of agony and a flicker of fear, distrust.  

Distrust.

It stabs at Zirin, to know that the trust she fought to establish with her seemed to have evaporated. And to no doing of her own.

 She finds herself wanting to yell at the princess. To shout at her for this newfound mistrust. It is irrational she knows, but she can’t help but be a little bitter. She knows that it will do her no good to say anything about the matter so she, instead, offers Azula something to eat.

 With the hog-monkey head cleared away, she no longer needs Zirin to feed her. She struggles at first, to lift the chopsticks with awkward claws in the way. And struggles further to position them correctly. “Let me.” Zirin tries.  Azula shoots her the most agitated look, as though she is fantastically offended by the offer. Zirin knows then, that she is still Azula beneath all of that torment and fear. The same prideful and proud princess she’d come to know. She retracts her hand. “Kay, sorry.”

She watches her fumble with them for a while more before she finally gets a handle on them. However clumsily, she feeds herself. She eats fast, giving Zirin another painful reminder that she had been holed up in the ground only days before. She thinks that this may be the first time that Azula has eaten a decent meal in months. She sure seemed to be savoring the food, and Zirin always thought herself to be a horrid chef. Regardless she points to her empty bowl. Zirin can take a hint, she is requesting a second helping. She doesn’t really want to cook another serving but she promised that she would take care of the woman. If that means extra cooking and more dishes, she will do it.

 Eventually, Azula looks up. “Thank you.” It is the first thing she has said while awake since being rescued. Zirin almost goes teary-eyed again. She never thought she would hear that voice again. Though it is much weaker than she remembers, she clings to the sound of it.

 .oOo.

 The morning after brings more hurt. Zirin has long since learned that one has to suffer to heal in full. Her father and his work with Azula only reinforces this. Zirin wasn’t sure that it could get much worse than seeing the hog-monkey head come off. But the wings, those are proving to be worse. Her father orders her to mash herbs and mix aloe again. She hears him grumble something about the infection and how it treating it is going to be a tricky feat.

 She watches him clan his hands and pull out his set of scissors. He inspects Azula’s back for a moment before drawing a conclusion. He gloves his hands and pulls at a flap of moose-dragon fur. The one closest to the wings. “Stitched on good.” He grumbles and Zirin knows that this will be tedious work. She isn’t sure if he will even get to the wings themselves today. He pulls out a pair of scissors even smaller than the ones he just tried. He cuts the first thread and then the one below it and the one below that. Azula sits rigid, visibly tensing with each snip, bracing herself for some kind of pain that doesn’t seem to come. The first patch of moose-dragon falls to the floor. It would seem that she is a morbid quilt of the things. Zirin wonders if all of it is moose-dragon fur, she imagines that there might be other animals tossed into the mix.

 “Aloe gel, Zizi.” Okon requests.

 Azula hisses as he applies the aloe-herb mix to where the stiches had once been. She tries to push his hand away.

 “Let me do it, fa.” Zirin takes the gel and takes Azula’s hand and finishes running it over the line of needlework.  She backs off to let her father continue. He carefully clips away at another pelt. One after another, pausing only to let Zirin apply aloe. They work until every last pelt is removed and discarded alongside the hog-monkey head, which is collecting maggots and flies in the rubbish bin. Zirin shudders to see that some are clinging to the pelts that her father had just removed. They had burrowed there, probably when Azula was still confined. And they had been feeding and growing larger. She sees Azula’s eyes fall on the pelts and the insects thriving off of them. It disturbs Zirin to note that Azula doesn’t seem surprised to see them, she knew that they were there. She knew very well.

 The longer her father stares at Azula, the more closely he inspects her, the more her discomfort seems to grow. Zirin watches her shift uncomfortably. “He’s not going to hurt you…or say anything about you.” She offered. “He’s just trying to figure out what to do next.” She doesn’t think that her words helped, Azula doesn’t trust her Okon. As his eyes scan the princess, Zirin makes an observation of her own.

Another thing that brings a fluttering to her belly.

Seeing Azula’s naked body for the first time, it occurs to her that the woman’s once perfect, flawless skin is going to be a mess of scars resembling a pai sho board. The stitchwork had been so uneven, just one more slap. She can’t imagine that Azula is taking it well, she hadn’t even assessed the damage for herself yet.

 Zirin hands the aloe gel to Azula, thinking that she’d rather apply it herself. She does so wordlessly, her expression as unreadable as it usually is with her. As she tends to her own injuries Okon rummages through his drawers.

 “I have anuter job fer ya, Zirin.”

 “What do you need me to do?”

 “I needja to get summore things from the garden. Ash daisy, chili pepper juice, ‘n orange jade.”

 Zirin wrinkles her brows. “I’ll go ‘n get it.” She spares another look at Azula. Whatever is to come is unpleasant enough to warrant ingredients for a potent sleep inducer. She takes to the garden to fetch the plants. When she comes back her father is holding a saw, he takes care to keep it out of Azula’s line of sight. She watches him set it to the side and pick up the aloe paste, a rag, and a bucket of water. He begins scrubbing at the place where her skin seems to fuse with the bone of wolf-bat wing. The place that leaks a yellow-green and a coppery red. She needs the cleaning, Zirin finds it hard to watch and wonders if she should just head outside again and being concocting the liquid remedy to fight infection fever. She is about to step back outside when Azula lashes out. She does so in a weak but damaging display of teal-blue. Her father grunts as he hits the floor, muttering a couple of curses.

She is in so much pain, Zirin notes, enough to strike at the hand that tries to help.

 “Hol’ onta yer girlfren.” Okon hollers as he does when he is under pressure. His face is contorted into an angry scowl which does little to reassure his attacker that she is in tentative hands. Thing wings bob and she could see it on Azula’s face that it ails her so when they do. But she brings fire to her palms again and tosses them with a furious yell.

 “Stop it!” Zirin shouts. And when she doesn’t Zirin yells louder. She is worried for her dad as much as she is for Azula. Azula who is more akin to a cornered animal than her regal self. Zirin’s worry makes sparks a rage in her, one she is hard pressed to control at the best of times. “Don’ touch ‘im, Azula. He’s tryin’ to help. Don’ touch ‘im.”

Her words fall on def ears. She still has the sense to not body slam Azula. But that sense is fading rapidly as Azula’s barrage of fire grows more hazardous. Her father, a non-bender and the most non-violent person she’s ever met, sits passively. She knows what he is thinking, he doesn’t want to hurt the woman he is supposed to be helping. No sense in solidifying that distrust. But Zirin can’t let her hurt him and before she knows it, she and Azula are on the ground.

For a moment the princess’ eyes are wide they are almost frozen. But that suspended state is broken by a the most ungodly scream Zirin has ever heard and she realizes that she had partially ripped one of the wings off.

 Her heart leaps, she feels sick. Azula’s blood is streaming and Zirin is afraid that it can’t be stopped.  She can observe that some muscle tissue has been plucked with the wing. She actually gets sick.

And her cries.

Zirin has never heard someone cry like that. A terrifying cross between a wail and a shriek. Maybe she is alternating between the two. But it puts a decent hole in her heart, because she knows that it’s her fault. She only wanted to protect her father.

Okon himself is on his feet again. This time Azula lets him have his way, but the act of picking her up alone has her eyes rolling back. They wouldn’t need the sleep inducer after all. It was too much for her.

 “Hol’ ‘er wings steady.” Okon demands.

 Zirin doesn’t need extra coaxing, she holds the wings in place to the best of her ability as Okon lays Azula facedown atop a makeshift operating table. It is the one he usually uses when he’s working on his bigger machines.

 Zirin huddles in the corner feeling dreadfully ashamed at how she handled things. Her father finishes cleansing the infection. He is mumbling to himself debating over whether it is best to stitch the skin split from pulling the wing or if he should get on with whatever he was about to do before that. It doesn’t matter, Zirin has already concluded that she no longer has any business being there. She’s already made a mess of things and she can’t imagine that she instilled any trust in Azula. She stands up and pushes the door open. She only has it slightly ajar when she hears a gruff, “where ya goin’ ta?”

 “My room, father.”

 “No, no. I needja.”

 She pauses in the doorframe. “For what? I think I helped a’nuff for today.”

 Okon raises the saw. “I needja ta hol’ ‘er wings steady again. I gotta saw through the bone, make id easier ta take out.”

 Zirin cringes she can’t stomach it. The smell of infection is awful and she doesn’t want to see how badly she’d worsened Azula’s condition. But she does, she holds the wings in place as her father begins sawing through them. It takes too long, much too long. Azula gives a sleepy hum and her eyes crack open. Zirin leaves the wings to retrieve the ash lily, orange jade, and pepper juice mixture. Taking care to no breath it in herself, she wafts the fragrance in Azula’s direction until she fades out again. And Okon resumes his work until the bone is severed completely through.

 “This is gonna be the hard part, Zizi.”

It is a warning.

He begins snipping away the excess skin that has accumulated around the wolf-bat bone. When this is accomplished he places a hand firmly between her shoulder blades and yanks at the protruding bone. It comes out with a slurp.

 “It’s not gonna stop bleeding is it, father, we have to put it back.” She points at the gaping hole in Azula’s back.

 She sees it on his face, that he agrees. He doesn’t have the medical skill to plug the hole in a way that a professional healer would. It is late realized, but Zirin finally thinks about just what they were doing. They should hand her over to a real healer. They should give her to the royal doctors. But now she doesn’t have that kind of time. The blood flow is constant and urgent.

 “Ken ya clean it fer me?” He hands Zirin the bone. His own hands are busy wadding a clean towel and stuffing it into the opening. It will only slow the bleeding for so long, so Zirin makes the cleansing quick. They’re going to lose her, she can’t see how a person could survive this. Once the cleansed bone is back in Okon’s hand, he removes the cloth and sticks the bone back in place. He riffles through another drawer and comes away with a tin of blasting powder. He sprinkles it around the bone. “I needja ta fireben’.”

 Zirin hesitates. She isn’t awake, she can’t feel it. She repeats it over and over as she cauterizes the wound.

She has to keep up with the mantra much longer.

They have to replicate the process on the left wing. If they are going to leave it where it is, they have to clean it. Clean it and shorten it.

 Again Zirin feels like crying for Azula, not only is she going to be a mess of stitch marks, but those bones are there to stay. Her father manages to shorten them enough for her to be able to lay on her back again in time. But she can’t imagine that it will ever be pleasant.

 “That’s a’nuff fer tanight.” Okon declares.

 Zirin doesn’t protest, it was more than enough. She doesn’t know what else there is to do, save for keeping an eye on the infection. But she somehow feels that there has to be something else, something to make Azula feel better about the removal that is to dangerous to preform in full. She contemplates it as she dresses the woman. At least that would hand the princess some dignity.

 The princess is still drowsy so Zirin has to help her into bed. She can feel tension ebbing from her. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t let you hurt my father. He was just tryin’ to help.” She waits for a reply that Azula won’t give. “He really was, see.” She brings Azula to a mirror and lifts the night shirt some. “They’re smaller so they won’t get in the way.”

 Azula blinks at her reflection and then averts her eyes. She isn’t any pleased with the results, Zirin can tell. All of that suffering and the wings are still there. If only she can find a way to make something pretty out of something dreadful.

 “Please don’t be mad at me.”

 The worst thing is that Azula doesn’t seem furious. She is so far from who she had been and it scares Zirin. On a normal day she would probably find herself in an Agni Kai for her life. But today, the princess looks at her forlornly. All the same she is relieved to know that Azula isn’t going to push her away. Maybe she realizes that intentions had been at their best. Zirin allows herself to believe that, Azula is smart. She can read a person. She helps Azula find a place on the bed and bundles her up in blankets. “We cleaned the infection.” She holds out her liquid remedy. “You’ll have to drink this to get fightin’ the one you already have. Every day, ‘til it’s gone.”

 Azula takes the cup in her hands and sips at the mix of herbal juices. She makes a face, bitter was never a favorite flavor of hers. But Zirin watches her drain the cup. She holds the cup out for Zirin to take back. She sets it to the side and urges Azula to rest her head and close her eyes.

 She longs to run her fingers through Azula’s hair as she always used to when comforting the firebender. But the princess’ long locks are gone and she no longer responds to touch…not affectionate touches anyhow. She is so damaged and Zirin doesn’t know how to fix her. She think and fears that Azula is gone. She takes her hand anyhow and strokes it until she sees her eyes close. She wants to give her cheek a gentle kiss but can’t imagine her receiving it well. So she holds back on a motion that used to be so natural.

 Long into the night she peers at the other woman. Her eyes never seem to leave the small bumps that jut out from her back. She takes in the sound of Azula’s breathing and savors it, the princess is at peace. At least until morning. For once she seems to be sleeping soundly, she imagines that slumber comes much easier now that she is free of the hog-monkey head and the worst of thing wings.

 The wings…

How darkly poetic it is that a fierce dragon of a woman is ailed by wings…

The wings simply weren’t right for this dragon.

An idea finally comes.