#just devolves into yelling WHAT back and forth

[riverstyxsarts]

It makes me a littleeee sad that adam’s deafness is treated more as a cool character quirk than as a disability 😭 i KNOW his ass is more effected than the books let on!!!

[thirteenheavens]

hoshi make up sex pleaseee thankyou <3

You and Soonyoung had gotten into a huge argument earlier that day, the first one you'd had in a long time. It had been about something small, something that shouldn't have even been a big deal, but somehow it had escalated into a full-blown fight.

Now, you were both sitting on opposite sides of the couch, the tension in the room palpable. Neither of you spoke, the silence only broken by the occasional sigh or frustrated huff. After what felt like an eternity, Soonyoung finally spoke up. "Can we talk about this?" he said, his voice quiet but firm.

You nodded, still feeling a bit angry, but willing to listen. "Yeah, I guess we should," you replied, looking over at him.

Soonyoung started to speak, trying to explain his side of things, but the more he talked, the angrier he got.

"I just don't understand why you can't see things from my perspective," he said, his voice rising. "I'm trying to do what's best for us, and you're just shutting me down every time."

You bristled at his words, feeling your own anger flaring up again. "That's not fair," you snapped back. "You're not the only one with opinions here, you know."

The argument quickly devolved into a shouting match, both of you hurling accusations and insults at each other.

"Why can't you just admit that you were wrong?" Soonyoung yelled.

"Why can't you just listen to me for once?" you yelled back.

The argument continued to escalate, both of you becoming more and more frustrated as the minutes ticked by. Finally, Soonyoung stood up from the couch, pacing back and forth in front of you.

"This is ridiculous," he said, running a hand through his hair. "We're supposed to be partners, but it feels like we're just fighting all the time."

You felt a pang of guilt at his words, knowing that he was right. The constant arguing was taking a toll on both of you, and you missed the way things used to be between you.

"I know," you said quietly, looking down at your hands. "I miss us too."

Soonyoung stopped pacing and looked over at you, his expression softening. "I miss us too," he repeated, his voice quieter now. "I hate fighting with you."

He walked over to you and sat down beside you on the couch, his body tense but his eyes filled with remorse. "I'm sorry for yelling at you," he said, taking your hand in his. "I just...I get so frustrated sometimes, and I don't know how to handle it."

You squeezed his hand, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. "I'm sorry too," you said, looking up at him. "I shouldn't have yelled either."

Soonyoung pulled you into a tight hug, burying his face in your hair. "I don't want to fight with you anymore," he whispered, his arms wrapped tightly around you. "I just want us to be happy together."

You hugged him back, feeling a sense of comfort and security in his embrace. "I know," you said, your voice muffled against his chest. "I want that too."

You stayed like that for a few minutes, holding each other in silence, until Soonyoung pulled back slightly to look at you.

"Can we start over?" he asked, his eyes searching yours. "Can we try to work things out and communicate better from now on?"

You nodded, feeling a wave of affection wash over you. "Yes, let's start over," you said, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. "I love you, and I don't want to lose you over something stupid like this."

Soonyoung smiled, his eyes lighting up at your words. "I love you too," he said, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "More than anything."

He leaned in again, this time capturing your lips in a soft, sweet kiss. The kiss was filled with apologies and promises, the two of you silently vowing to do better in the future. As you kissed him back, you felt a sense of hope and optimism for the future. You knew that it wouldn't be easy, but you were determined to work through any problems that came your way, together.

As the kiss deepened, you felt a surge of desire course through your body. Soonyoung's hands began to roam over your body, his touch sending shivers down your spine. He pulled you onto his lap, his arms wrapped tightly around you as he continued to kiss you passionately. You moaned into his mouth, feeling your body respond to his touch.

"I want you," he whispered against your lips, his hands slipping under your shirt to caress your skin. "I need you."

You whimpered at his words, feeling yourself grow wet with desire. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as you kissed him hungrily. Soonyoung's hands roamed over your body, exploring every inch of you as he devoured your mouth. He nipped at your bottom lip, his hands tugging at the hem of your shirt.

"Off," he growled, his voice low and husky. "I need to see you."

You quickly pulled your shirt over your head, tossing it aside. Soonyoung groaned at the sight of you, his eyes dark with lust.

"You're so beautiful," he said, his hands coming up to cup your breasts. He gently rolled your nipples between his fingers, watching as they hardened under his touch.

You arched into his touch, moaning softly as pleasure coursed through your body. Soonyoung leaned in to kiss your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin there. Soonyoung continued to tease your neck and breasts, his hands and mouth driving you wild with desire. You could feel his hardness pressing against you through his pants, and you rocked your hips against him, desperate for more friction.

"Please," you whimpered, tangling your fingers in his hair again. "I need you inside me."

Soonyoung groaned at your words, his control slipping away. He stood up suddenly, scooping you up into his arms and carrying you to the bedroom. He laid you down on the bed, his eyes raking over your body hungrily. He quickly stripped off his own clothes, revealing his toned body to you. He climbed onto the bed, hovering over you as he leaned down to kiss you again. His hands trailed down your body, stopping at the waistband of your pants.

"May I?" he asked, his voice husky with desire.

You nodded eagerly, lifting your hips to allow him to remove your pants and underwear. Soonyoung groaned as he looked at you, completely naked beneath him.

"You're so perfect," he whispered, his hands roaming over your body again. "I can't believe you're mine."

He leaned down to kiss you again, his lips trailing a path down your neck and over your chest. He took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and licking at it until you were moaning and writhing beneath him. Soonyoung moved lower, his lips leaving a trail of kisses down your stomach until he reached your core. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire.

"I want to taste you," he said, his voice rough with need. "I want to make you feel good."

Without waiting for a response, he dipped his head between your legs, his tongue delving deep into your folds. You cried out at the sensation, your fingers tangling in his hair as he worked you with his mouth. Soonyoung ate you out with abandon, his tongue swirling around your clit and dipping inside you. He moaned against you, clearly enjoying the taste of you on his tongue. You arched your back, lost in the pleasure of his mouth. You could feel your orgasm building, your body tightening with tension as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

"Soonyoung," you gasped out, your fingers tightening in his hair. "I'm so close."

Soonyoung hummed against you, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as he worked you towards your release. He knew your body so well, knew exactly what you needed to send you over the edge. He focused his attention on your clit, sucking and licking at it relentlessly until you were trembling beneath him.

"Come for me," he growled, looking up at you with dark eyes. "Let go, baby."

With a final flick of his tongue, you came undone, your body convulsing as you cried out his name. Soonyoung continued to lap at you, prolonging your orgasm as much as possible. When you finally came down from your high, he crawled up your body, pressing gentle kisses to your skin as he went. He looked down at you with a smirk, clearly pleased with himself.

"You taste so good," he said, his voice rough with desire. "I could do that all day."

You smiled up at him, still panting from your orgasm. "You're too good at that," you said, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair.

Soonyoung chuckled, leaning down to capture your lips in a slow, lazy kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips, and the thought sent a shiver down your spine.

"I love making you feel good," he murmured against your mouth. "But I think it's my turn now."

Soonyoung moved to kneel between your legs, his eyes roaming over your body hungrily. He reached down to take himself in hand, stroking himself a few times as he looked at you.

"You're so beautiful like this," he said, his voice rough with desire. "All spread out and ready for me."

He positioned himself at your entrance, teasing you with the head of his cock. You whimpered in frustration, wanting to feel him inside you already.

"Please," you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist. "I need you."

Soonyoung chuckled, clearly enjoying the way you were begging for him. "Patience, baby," he said, leaning down to nip at your earlobe. "I'll give you what you want, I promise."

Soonyoung slowly pushed into you, inch by inch, savoring the feeling of your tight heat around him. You moaned in pleasure, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he filled you completely.

"You feel so good," he groaned, his forehead resting against yours. "So tight and perfect."

He began to move, his hips thrusting against yours in a slow, steady rhythm. He captured your lips in a deep kiss, swallowing your moans as he drove into you. The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and gasps, the scent of sex heavy in the air. Soonyoung's hands roamed over your body, touching and caressing every inch of you as he continued to thrust into you.

"I love you," he murmured against your skin, his lips trailing a path down your neck. "You're mine, all mine."

You clung to him, your nails raking down his back as he continued to move inside you. The feeling of him inside you was incredible, his every thrust sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Soonyoung," you moaned, your head thrown back in ecstasy. "I'm so close."

He reached down to rub your clit with his thumb, driving you even closer to the edge. "Come for me again," he growled. "I want to feel you come around me."

You cried out as your second orgasm crashed over you, your body clenching around Soonyoung's cock. He groaned at the sensation, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased his own release.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he panted, his hips snapping against yours. "I'm gonna come."

With a final deep thrust, he came inside you, spilling himself deep within you with a loud moan. He collapsed on top of you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Soonyoung nuzzled his face into your neck, pressing gentle kisses to your skin as he came down from his high. He rolled off of you, pulling you into his arms and holding you close.

"You're amazing," he said, his voice rough with satisfaction. "I love you so much."

You snuggled closer to him, basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking. You traced lazy patterns on his chest, feeling content and happy in his arms.

"I love you too," you murmured, looking up at him with a smile.

Soonyoung nodded, a small smile on his face. "I don't want to fight with you," he said, stroking your hair gently. "I hate it when we argue. I hate seeing you upset."

You nodded in agreement, feeling the same way. "I hate it too," you said, looking up at him. "We should try to talk things out instead of letting it fester."

[nomorefstogive]

Here is another idea. Imagine if we could get to roast the archons. Like a once in a lifetime event, The archon's roast. We get each archon on a panel and we get someone close to them. Even the archons get to roast each other.

Oh hell this is beautiful, I can already picture this happening, maybe courtesy of the Traveler or someone else having pulled them all into the Serenetea pot, one thing leads to another over drinks and soon the roasts start to fly.

From everyone ganging up on Venti about his drinking habits, to them turning on Zhongli over his inability to manage his own finances, to Ei's inability to handle change, to Nahida being too gentle with her people, to Furina's penchant for treating everything like a performance.

Eventually it all just devolves into a constant back and forth that has been spear headed by the likes of Dvalin (Best I could think of for Venti outside of Diluc or Barbara), Xianyun, Miko, Alhaithem or Nihlou, and Clorinde or Neuvilette.

And as this chaos is going on, the Traveler is leaning back in their chair, their face in their hands as they try and suppress a mixture of humor and embarrassment at the scene before them.

What would make it more chaotic is if it occurred during a celebration that includes more than just the aforementioned individuals, with the majority of the Traveler's comrades all being present, each one chiming in their own complaints and roasts, with the Archons retaliating in kind.

"I may be drunk, but at least I don't work till I collapse and have to be dragged away."

"I readily admit that I have issues with my own finances, but at least I am not constantly lying to my family regarding my profession."

"Change is not something that comes naturally to me, I admit. But at least I don't shed fur everywhere when the season changes, or worship a long dead God."

"Gentle I may be, but at least I can express myself openly, and not loose myself to my work. I also don't have a complex regarding my creator, nor have I attempted to be what I am not."

"Oh. You really want to go there? Well at least I didn't kill my friends father in front of her, or loose control over my own element and have to rely on a mere 'usurper' to get it back."

More and more the situation devolves as chaos reigns amidst the roasts and yells, all while Paimon joins the Traveler in hiding her face in her hands.

In a sagau setting, this could occur as a result of a combination of everyone being a little tipsy and a careless word, with the reader simply watching as the chaos breaks out around them, not needing to say a word as all hell breaks loose around them.

At least that is what comes to my mind at the moment, sorry if it is not what you had in mind.

[randomthefox]

An absolutely legendary boss intro cutscene. And another one that people have brain rotted themselves on by perpetuating it out of context. "LOL THIS IS SO SILLY, WHY ARE THEY BEING SO THEATRICAL AND HAVE SPOTLIGHTS SHINING ON THEM? THIS COMES OUT OF NOWHERE AND IS NEVER MENTIONED AGAIN!"

Like, first of all, the cutscene before this was Dante getting the Lucifer weapon and making a giant heart shaped explosion while saying a lot of sex innuendos. One of the weapons in this game is a shapeshifting briefcase that turns into six hundred and sixty six guns. DMC3 had a main villain who was a demon Jester who sang "Jester's gonna spank your butt, spank you on the butt~" The main characters favorite food is strawberry sundae ice cream and everything pizza. These games are camp. Sometimes campyness is its OWN reason. Irreverence and subversion of social norms can be a rebellion and commentary in and of itself. The queer community embraces camp for that very purpose. "This is the way things are supposed to be? I say no, I'm going to put giant peacock feathers on my headdress instead, because I don't fit into YOUR box." That can BE the reason in and of itself. The DMC games employ camp for its own sake frequently.

But in this scene, the camp is actually serving a narrative purpose. Please note that the scene OPENS on Agnus initially taking things seriously. Yes there's a spotlight, but he's not talking in an exaggerated way, he's treating Dante's arrival with grave importance and is trying to initiate a legitimate pre-boss fight dialog. But he only gets one sentence out before Dante COMPLETELY HIJACKS THE SCENE with goofy music accompaniment while he starts monologuing as if reading off a script with deliberately exaggerated affect.

Dante is MAKING FUN of Agnus. Agnus thinks this whole demon research thing is serious business, and Dante thinks that's fucking stupid. So he's acting as stupidly as he thinks Agnus is, deliberately playing up his rebuttable to make a mockery of the Order and their demonic research. Note how when Agnus next speaks, he's STILL trying to keep the tone serious. Holding a skull like he's talking about poor yorick, alas. Crushing the skull to try and present an air of menace. He's playing along with Dante's charade, because Dante IS a big deal to his organization and they know he's just Like This, but he still wants to be taken seriously.

But Dante is not having it. He thinks Agnus is not worthy of any amount of respect, in fact he is worthy of disrespect. Dante is being flamboyant and theatrical to exaggerated effect to mock him and dismiss him and everything he is as unimportant and unworthy of existence. It's only after Dante doubles down that Agnus succumbs and starts playing along, GOING INTO HIS DEMON MODE before yelling out about Yamato. Dante has won the boss fight before it's even started, because he's dragged Agnus down to his level. The level Dante thinks he deserves to be at. Dante thinks that Agnus is a pretentious clown, and he's right. Agnus IS a pretentious clown. Which is why he completely gives up trying to be taken seriously and devolves into a petty competition to hog the spotlight away from Dante, going back and forth with their grand theatrical line delivery until the tension builds to the point of violence.

Think about what they're ACTUALLY saying here in this scene.

Agnus:"I knew those demons would be no match for you, Dante."

Dante:"So then what was the point? You sacrificed all those innocent lives and drove yourself insane just to be as powerful as a demon?"

Agnus:"Humans are weak and pathetic, we have to unleash hell upon them to get them to recognize us as their rightful rulers. Ironic, don't you think?"

Dante:"Blah blah blah I don't care, give me my brothers sword back."

Agnus:"You want Yamato? You'll have to go through me to get it!"

Dante:"Yup, that's the plan! I was looking forward to killing you anyway."

And instead of just delivering that same pre-boss banter in the same straight forward but amusing way Dante always does, the developers elevated the entire scene with campy delivery. Now so much MORE is being communicated than simply the dialog being spoken. Dante is conveying his absolute disdain for Agnus and the Order with his theatrics, acting like a buffoon in the very room where he shot the Pope in the face at the beginning of this whole story, and pushing Agnus to the point where he gives in and starts playing along because he really is THAT petty and self important. AND the cinematography, blocking, editing and line delivery from the voice actors is IMMACULATE making for an incredible scene of pure camp.

This scene is amazing, do not dismiss this analysis with some anti intellectual "you're overthinking it" response. The developers created the scene like this ON PURPOSE for a REASON. The voice director told Reuben Langdon and T.J. Storm to deliver their lines that way in this scene, which is unlike their delivery in every other scene in the game including the scene after the boss fight is over, FOR A REASON. They adjusted the lighting of this pre-created level environment that also has other different scenes with different lighting taking place in it for the purpose of this scene FOR A REASON. And that hard work time and resources spent on crafting this scene, and the artistic purpose that it was intended to convey, deserves to be acknowledged and appreciated.

Please do not let yourself be so brainrotted by meme culture that you can't pay closer attention to what is actually happening in this scene beyond the superficial surface level appraisal of "they're talking and acting silly" and thus conclude that that sillyness must be for "no reason."

[cranberrymoons]

winter games

prompt: sports (@steddieholidaydrabbles) word count: 605 rated: t tags: basketball, fluff, eddie enduring jock stobin ✊😔 notes: this one stands alone but is part of the future fic series!

welcome to Day 22 of the fic advent calendar – bite-sized fics posting every day during the month of december. enjoy!

Eddie has a type, and much to his eternal dismay, his type is jocks – with a heart of gold, though! That’s an important distinction. 

Anyway.

He’d been afraid that this would lead to him marrying into a Turkey Trot family, a bunch of evil sporty people in spandex who wake up at five in the morning on Thanksgiving day to run a 5K in the freezing cold before they’ll allow themselves a slice of pumpkin pie, but luckily for him, this hasn’t turned out to be the case.

Unluckily, he has instead found himself married to someone who takes basketball… so goddamn seriously. 

It’s actually kind of adorable, even if he doesn’t actually know or care what’s happening as he sits back on the couch with Steve’s feet in his lap while he and Robin yell at the screen. 

“I don’t know what the hell he thinks he’s doing,” Steve says as Eddie takes a swig of his beer and watches impassively at the tiny men in the red jerseys running back and forth on the court. “It’s like he’s never even seen a hoop before.”

“Seriously,” Robin says. She hands over her bag of chips when Steve makes a grab for it. She rips an anxious hand back through her hair where she’s curled in the big squashy armchair near the couch. “Pathetic.”

“They’re still winning though, aren’t they?” Eddie asks. They turn to him with twin exasperated looks, and Eddie widens his eyes. “Indiana. They’re winning.”

“That’s not the point,” Steve says as Robin nods along emphatically. “They should be winning by more.”

Eddie makes a face. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It doesn’t make sense to you,” Robin says. She rolls her eyes. “Just because –”

But they both devolve into outraged shouts at something that’s just happened in the game, and she doesn’t finish her thought. Steve gets so wound up that his feet shift in Eddie’s lap, heels digging into the tops of his thighs, and Eddie lets out a little grunt of pain. He squeezes Steve’s ankle to get him to move, and Steve gives him a distracted apology as he commiserates with Robin over what is apparently something worth being very upset over.

“Neither of you even went to this school,” he says under his breath, taking another swig of his drink. “Why do you even care?”

Robin glares at him. “How many ear-blasting rock shows have I sat through over the years?”

Eddie sighs. “A bunch.”

“An innumerable number,” she says, raising her eyebrows. “You can put up with one basketball game.”

Steve makes a face. “She kind of has a point.” He rubs a hand over Eddie’s arm where it rests against his legs. “Sorry. Go do a snack run or something if you’re bored. We’re not even to halftime yet.”

Eddie doesn’t need to be asked twice, not when there are several hours (?) of this in his immediate future. He shifts out from under Steve and collects a few empty plates before starting in the direction of the kitchen. 

“Bring more drinks!” Robin calls after him.

“And some of the Christmas cookies from earlier!” Steve adds, craning his neck around to be heard from his spot on the couch. 

Eddie just rolls his eyes, smiling to himself as he pulls open the fridge and stares into it, considering starting some type of cooking project just to keep himself out of the way of the two-person cheering squad in the living room. 

And – okay, so his type is jocks. Doesn’t mean he actually wants to be around them when they’re doing jock things.

[also on ao3]

[goosesandsomegeese]

Prologue The Axe Forgets But The Tree Remembers

After spending five years in the soul world they're finally all free, with no memories of being stuck within an endless void. Except of course, Peter Parker. A single good thing will never go his way; and this only further proves it.

Really hoping people will enjoy this, I haven't wrote anything in nearly three years so I'm hoping this will get me back into it. Please be patience and enjoy.

The soul world is endless. It's like walking in space, Peter decided one day (did he decide today? Last week? Last year? Who knows. Who really cares?), except at least space has stars and planets and some kind of hope of another life that isn't half of the earth's population. Sure he's met cool people, but no one can really be cool when they slowly lose their sanity after several years stuck inside an endless walkable orangey-yellow ground, with orangey-yellow skies to match.

They're also not cool when they take it out on you, the youngest superhero, because you're the easiest punching bag.

Dr. Strange lost it on everyone when they first materialised, mainly Star-lord. The brawls and fights that ensued were eventful. It took only a week before everyone gave up hope and started turning on each other; any weapon anyone still had was thrown and used.

Peter could be grateful for meeting Lord T'Challa, but his usually calm demeanour had been destroyed long ago.

"Still your fault!" Dr. Strange yelled as he stormed back and forth with his permanent scowl on his face.

"He killed Gamora! How would you feel?" Star-lord shouted back, his hands pulling at his hair.

This was maybe the hundredth time Peter had heard the same fight. He mouthed the words he knew off by heart. If he could find a wall he'd slam his head into it, or crawl into a ball and face it until his organs finally gave out on him. If they'd ever. Peter's only hope here was that he'd one day die. He didn't know of what. Murder clearly wouldn't do it, but his body was still ageing. He wasn't entirely sure.

"I know how I'd feel because everyone I know is dead!" The statement was most likely true; not many planets had survived Thanos' snap, devolving into madness, and if Peter knew anything about humanity, it was that it was not something that could survive this. May was dead. Mr. Stark was dead. So were Ned, MJ, Liz… At least they weren't here. Wherever here is.

Soon, the fight would drag Peter in, unwillingly. He had tried to get out of it multiple times, but it was like Groundhog day. Doomed to be repeated. Time and time again.

"Peter!" Here we go again.

When the fight died down and everyone was licking their wounds, Peter slowly rose to his feet, blood dripping from his cheek, and made his way over to Bucky and Dr. Strange.

"Stephen." Peter greeted, sitting down beside them. They didn't seem to like each other; no one here liked anyone. They just happened to end up beside each other when everyone else was too tired to restart the fight.

"Spider-Man, if you are here to ask again about if I have any new ideas. I don't. I don't, and I never fucking will. Leave me alone." Okay. Great. "You're even more useless than good ol' Star-Lord over there. If you had a single brain cell in that empty head, you'd leave me alone."

"You're young and full of hope; just lose it, kid. We're never getting out of here." Bucky joined in, his face full of anger and hatred.

Peter looked down, feeling ashamed. He knew he was just an annoying child in their eyes, but it always hurt to hear. He had no hope; he just wanted to talk to someone about anything. None of them cared to try and get along, and it was devastatingly lonely to only ever hear fights day in and day out.

Peter grumbled an apology, rose to his feet, and walked away. There was nowhere to go, but anywhere that wasn't in earshot was an improvement.

Peter stumbled upon Mantis. It was awful talking to her; she'd somehow managed to keep track of the days, although he didn't believe she was totally or at all accurate. Within the first month Peter went to her nearly every day to ask the date; his hope had still been alive that they would get out. Now he went just to twist the knife in his heart that they were definitely never getting out. This time was different; he was nearly certain he knew the date, but he wasn't positive.

Mantis sat next to Drax and Groot. They rarely said anything to each other besides playing simple hand games Star-Lord and Peter had taught them.

Drax spotted Peter first and yet said nothing; neither of them had anything to say to each other, and Peter couldn't handle another rejection today, or maybe for another month. Maybe ever. He could always sit in a different part of the void, letting everyone walk by him and yet never saying a word to any of them. He could sit with people who didn't even speak the same language so he couldn't hear when they were insulting him. Maybe he could walk far enough anyway that he'd see a section that was more yellowy-orange than orangey-yellow. Who knows. The possibilities are endless.

Mantis looked at him, "August 10th." She told him, then laid on her back and stared up.

"Thank you." He'll try his best to not lose his manners. His patience and hope? Maybe. But Aunt May had raised him better than to ever be rude.

Drax opened his mouth to say something, but Peter was already turning away, scratch never being rude.

He once again walked far enough away to be out of earshot of anyone, sat himself down, and closed his eyes, remembering his 16th birthday, May forcing him to sit down, and he winced from the cuts that had yet to heal on his lower back as he blew out his candles. She kissed his forehead and joked he'd be 18 before she even knew it. Before Thanos, she had begun planning his 17th birthday, something he was reluctant to agree to (What if something happened and the people of New York needed their friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man?). She told him it was his last birthday before he was a legal adult and he needed to expect nothing but greatness on it and to invite all his friends. She threw out ideas like paintballing, go-karting, or even having a few drinks at the apartment. Aunt May was so excited.

He wondered how she'd feel now. 19 years old and yet with nothing to show for it. He couldn't look in a mirror to see if he'd aged; no one would hold a conversation long enough for him to ask, and everyone else was at an age where their ageing wasn't visible.

If Aunt May had been snapped, which he prayed she hadn't as death was a much nicer fate than this, he'd yet to find her. When everyone first flooded in, it was chaos. The superheroes tried to calm everyone, create order, but no one trusted them anymore. After a while everyone stopped caring who else was in here. There was no one to tell if everyone who'd been a victim of Thanos even ended up here, although it was likely. Billions of people were here, all of them scared. They all seemed to stay put now, devoid of any emotion.

Peter Parker laid down, knowing all too well how pointless the idea of sleep was and, yet he sang to himself with his eyes closed, hoping it would work.

"Happy birthday to me…"

[blueberrybladelemonade]

Hard Scales, Tender Love

Summary: You're a half dragon and Peppino finds that will come with it's ups and downs. 

Contains: Puns, Crack treated somewhat seriously, Slice of life, Fluff, Kissing. 

"Pino!" Your eyes lit up as you bounded towards the door to greet your boyfriend as he stepped into your home. Peppino let out a small "oof" as you rush into his open arms. "I'm so glad you're spending the night!" Behind you, your tail twitched back and forth excitedly. He returned your hug and placed a kiss on your forehead. 

You tilt your head noticing the small bag in his hand. "What's that"?

"Look speziata! We can-a match." Peppino smiled, paper rustled and he held up a pair of fake horns.

You gently take them from his hands, they were very similar in appearance to your own. You turn them over again, feeling the resin ridges and bumps of the makeshift horns. 

You glance back up at Peppino, pulling the fabric cord taut to him. He bowed his head as you tied the laces together for him, chuckling as you did so. With a final knot, you both draw back and you return his smile. Marveling at the horns now sitting neatly atop his head.

"Does that mean I can decorate your horns too now?" You tease. 

***

"Hold-a still!" Peppino scolded as you squirmed again. Your back was pressed against his chest as he continued to wind and wrap tinsel around your horns.

"I'm trying! It-it keeps tickling my neck!" You whine before you devolve into another fit of laughter. Peppino huffed as your tail almost knocked the roll of tinsel and scissors from his hand. "Watch it, amore"!

In a conscious attempt, you forced your tail to remain at at your side as it twitched at the sensations and your stifled laughter. With another few snips and string Peppino nodded as he set the items beside him. "All-a done".

You tilted your head side to side, the tinsel swaying with each movement. "I feel like a Christmas tree"! 

Peppino eyed his handiwork and pursing his lips in thought. A mischievous look flashed across his features as he moved off the couch. Yoir eyes followed him as Peppino went back to the bin of decorations that was pulled out. "One last-a thing..." You heard him mumble, trailing off as various items clinked or rustled together. 

Peppino retrieved what he was searching for and made his way back to you. Something caught the light in your peripheral as Peppino hooked a small icicle ornament onto one of your horns.

"Now-a you look ready for the party"!

***

Warm water poured from the shower head and steam rose from the tiled floor. You let out a content hum as you poured soap onto the scrubbie and lather it. 

"So how was work?" You ask, lathering Peppino in a layer of suds. 

"It-a was ok. Gus forgot to order more mozzarella so I had to leave and buy-a some at the store".  

"Not too stressful"?

"Well, Noise didn't come in toda-"

Peppino paused as your face scrunched, his eyes widening in realization as you tilt your head back.

"No no no!" Peppino dodged to the side, heat soared passed his neck followed by the sound of hissing as fire evaporated in the running water.

He shot you a glare. "Cover-a your mouth!" 

"At least it wasn't the carpet this time?" You replied helpfully. You opted to switch from the scrubbie to scratch your nails gently across his scalp. 

"You sneezed and-a almost burnt down my house!" He argued -albeit half heartedly- quickly melting against your touch.  

"It was just the rug. And I paid you back!" You protested. Peppino groaned in response, shaking his head wordlessly. That incident would never leave his memory despite it being months ago. In retrospect though, he had a fair enough reason to. 

***

"aaAAACH-" a line of fire shot from your mouth, Peppino yelled and ducked in nick of time.

The area rug, however, was not as fortunate. Flames crackled and flickered a bright blue, licking up into the air.

At an instant Peppino bolted into the kitchen and you could hear the rush of water. In a fluid motion your tail slapped the floor and waved it side to side, attempting to smother the blaze. As it cooled slightly to an amber hue you watch in panic as flames spread now to a corner of the rug.

You shriek as water soaks your pants and dowses the fire. With a final pop the light faded and puff of smoke drifted into the air. You hear a thud from behind as a bucket drops to the floor. 

Peppino slumped into the dining room chair with an exasperated sigh. 

"That was close." You chirped. 

"You...can breath...fire." With this new information in mind Peppino fell silent for a moment, putting his face back into his palms, leaning over the table. He sat there shaking his head, muttering to himself. 

Peppino seemed to be at the end of his wits for the day. First, The Noise pulled that prank on him at work and now? Now he just learned you not only had a draconic tail and horns, but also could breath fire.

You shifted your weight to the other foot and scratched the back of your neck. "It's, uh, really convenient if we ever go...camping"?

Peppino let out a deep sigh. He replied with something you couldn't quite place, keeping his face buried in his hands. You weren't sure if the comment was aimed at you, or himself.  

"...is that a no for camping"?

He spread his fingers and shot you a sideways glare.

***

You kissed the top of Peppino's head, draping your arms around him as he reclined back into your chest. Fabric slid against your tail as it slowly wagged. 

After your shower together you told Peppino to relax on the couch as you prepared dinner. He stretched and let his eyes close, the smell and sounds lulling him into a gentle slumber. 

You pat the steaks dry once more before carefully setting them into the pam. Oil fizzled and popped, sending small drops across the stove top. You groan inwardly at the eventual clean up. As you turned the meat over, perfectly seared, you began basting it with the butter and thyme you set aside.

Every so often you would peek your head out from the kitchen to check on Peppino. A soft smile tugged at your lips at how peaceful he looked. 

You took the bowl of antipasto from the fridge, removed the lid, and put a large spoon into the mix. 

"Hey, wake up." You nudge his shoulder, his eyes meeting yours as he gives you a sleepy grin. "Dinner's ready". Before you could turn around Peppino caught your wrist, tugging you to lean down. "Grazie amore." He peppered your face with kisses, sitting up as you place a final kiss against his lips and urge him to get up. "Come on, our food will get cold at this rate".

You wrapped your tail around his waist, pulling Peppino closer. "Mine, all mine." You breathed, burying your face into Peppino's neck. He let out an unintelligible noise and nodded, drifting off to a quiet slumber. 

Carefully you leaned back, attempting to not disturb him. Hearing him grumble you pause for a moment, waiting for him to settle again. As you get Peppino and yourself situated on your side you tug at the blanket and pull it up to your necks. 

You nuzzled into his neck, feeling his breath tickle your skin. "Goodnight Peppino. I love you." You whisper. There was no reply but you thought his grip on you tightened just slightly.  

***

Peppino rolled to his side, arms reaching out for your form but finding it absent. With a soft groan he lazily cracked an eye open. Was it morning and you already had gotten out of bed? No, that couldn't be right. The room was too dark to be morning yet. A thin slit of light filtered from beneath the door which lead to the hallway. From the faintly illuminated the room your silhouette was nowhere to be seen. 

"Y/N?" 

No reply. Did you get up to go to the bathroom? Peppino stretched to feel the cool fabric, indicating you had been gone for quite a while. 

His thoughts paused at hearing a thunk in the next room. You would be coming to bed again soon, right? Peppino turned back onto his side to stare into the darkness. As the sound repeated he found himself tiredly sliding out of bed, towards the door. 

As Peppino made his way down the hallway a shuffling sound made him pause. He focused on the sound, realizing it was coming from inside your spare room. That thunking sound was louder now, indicating the source was also behind this door. 

Why were you in there, this late at night? The light inside was much brighter in there, as it filtered across the floor. You never mentioned this room, though it's not like Peppino ever asked. If anything, Peppino assumed this was a spare room, a space for storage.

But why would you be rummaging around in there in the middle of the night?

From the other side he heard your voice, but laced with distress. 

You yelped as the door swung open, a piece of paper fluttering to the floor. 

Peppino gasped, eyes wide as he took in the sights around him. In the center of the room was a decently sized canopy bed, complete with ornate bed posts. At the foot of the bed was a heavy looking bench complete with a few round cushions. 

"What are you doing in here?" You stuttered. Peppino barely heard you as he continued to be amazed at the sheer amount of, what he could only call treasure, in just this room.

Off to the side was a desk in front of a half open closet. Though what actually drew Peppino's attention was what was on the desk. Various cards and gifts that Peppino had given you were displayed neatly on the flat surface. 

"Pino why aren't you sleeping"?

"You weren't in bed..." His replied, eyes focused down at the paper by your feet, then back to the desk where similar ones were folded. "What-a are those"?

"Oh...heh. Those were a few letters I wrote that I wanted t- put that down! Don't read it!" You attempt to swat one of the papers away from Peppino, only for him to hold you at arms length as he began reading with his free hand.

"I like you but-a I'm a little Chai?" He began, quirking an eyebrow, you feeling your face reddening as he continued to read that cursed thing. 

"Pinooo put that down!" You whine.

You stumble forward, grasping at air as Peppino sidestepped away from you and into the opposite corner. 

"Hey-a hot-tea, I think-a we're a good matcha". He snickered before falling into a laughing fit. You could feel your heart thudding in your ears over Peppino's laughter. You wished you could just melt into the floor. Or hide under the bed. 

He grins over at you as he slightly regains his composure, "What-a is this"?

"Really terrible pickup lines. Put it down".

You sigh in relief as he returned the where he found it.

"When did you write these"?

"Some of, well, most of them before we started dating. They were confession letters that turned out really dumb, in hindsight..." You paced to the other side of the room looking away, "But I couldn't throw them out even if they're all really bad. That was 'The Pickup Line' letter".

You had written dozens of confession letters and half as many telling Peppino how much you loved him. Some more lighthearted and funny while others were more sincere, ones that you poured your heart into. 

Regardless, after finishing your letter and being satisfied with it that day, you would reread it the next and cringe. Shoving it into the dresser with the others. 

You busied yourself with the fabric on the bed. "A few are also letters or poems I wanted to write for you but I can't find the right words. So they all turn out bad".

"They're not-a bad." Peppino took a seat in the center of the bed, sinking into it. You perked up, tilting your head to face him. "Even if they sound dumb"?

"I can't find-a the right words to tell-a you how much I love you, speziata. But I-a do". You returned Peppino's smile with a small one of your own. 

"You've got-a pizza my heart, mia cara". At that, you did smile. Peppino quirked an eyebrow as you shuffled back towards the closet before pulling out a robe. You draped the silk night robe across his bare shoulders and wrapped your arms around him tightly.

"There. For my prince". 

You smiled as you sank onto the bed beside him. 

Peppino grabbed both of your horns, playfully tugging and pulling you down. You relent and lay on your side, grinning up at him. Not one to give the upper hand though, you yank him down onto his side. 

Without giving you the opportunity to protest, Peppino leaned forward, his chuckle catching between your lips. His hand fell on your hip before pulling you against him as he bit down playfully. 

A small sigh passed your lips, your fingers finding the silk fabric as it slipped off of him, to the side. 

Breaking off the kiss, you catch a glimpse of his eyes shining mischievously. "What did-a you call me"? Your tail cupped his chin, the tip grazing the side of his jaw. "My prince?" You replied as Peppino's eyes fixed onto yours, leaning closer until his face was inches from yours.

Before you knew it, Peppino pressed his lips against yours again, letting his hands hungrily wander across your entire body. In a way it seemed frantic, in a way, his palms gliding over your neck and waist. 

You crane your neck to look up at him, hovering over you. As you feel the robe brush against your face again you push it off the bed. You'll pick it up later. But for now? Now you were occupied with someone much more important. 

💜I hope y'all enjoyed this fic my brain made me create and put out there lol. This is honestly the most weird thing I've written💜

[frozenbound]

requesting one where sojiro is tired of hanzo and genji stealing each others boytoys and decides to do the adult thing and "confiscate" their toys until they make up

Oooo, what a great prompt! I haven't had the chance to write Sojiro for a while, so I'm glad he's back!

And when you say that Hanzo and Genji should make up... ;)

Thanks for the request, Anon!

Sojiro confiscating the boytoys, coming right up under the Read More!

“Ryū ga waga teki wo kurau!”

“Ryūjin no ken wo kurae!”

Sojiro sighed, finished typing his sentence, then waved the holoscreen away and stood up. He walked to the window and looked down into the gardens, and sure enough, there were Hanzo and Genji, both striking at each other with enough fury that shadows danced and waved under the flames of their fury all around them despite the afternoon sun above.

On the fringes of their fight, looking aghast and fretful, were what’s-his-name and what’s-his-name…C…C…Cowboy and L…L…Lucy. Lucy? That didn’t sound right, but it was close. Cowboy and Lucy were running back and forth, waving their arms and shouting, giving no heed whatsoever to either their nudity or Hanzo and Genji’s.

Sojiro grimaced with some real frustration.

It was obvious what had happened: Genji and Hanzo had snuck away with the other’s boytoy of the day and had, in true brotherly fashion, picked a spot for their illicit liaison that just happened to be within earshot of each other.

Sojiro could almost hear the argument that must have happened just before it had devolved into a dragon battle.

“I’m the elder brother! He’s mine by right of birth!”

“You have so many boyfriends, Hanzo! You can’t let me have two or three?!”

It was always the same theme, with depressingly little variation.

Sojiro had had enough, especially when the underlying problem was plain to see and extraordinarily easy to solve.

So he marched from his office to the “guest” quarters, with its increasingly crowded and permanent population, threw open the door to the main recreation room, and barked, “Clothes off and follow me! Now!”

Some, like the giant R…R…like the giant scrambled to their feet, dropped their trousers (because what was the use of ever wearing a shirt or underwear in Shimada Castle, honestly?), and lined up. Others, like the two supersoldiers who Sojiro really should remember because they had done something notable fairly recently, glanced at each other and came more slowly, like cats trying to convince their owner that they came because they chose, not because they were called.

But they came, because even they could see that Sojiro had something akin to fury in his face, and frankly he would be furious if anyone other than his beloved sons was engaging in such reckless and juvenile behavior.

They were 28 and 25, for heaven’s sake, yet there they were, fighting in the garden like a couple of toddlers.

When they were all nude and in a line, Sojiro whipped around and stalked down the hallway towards the garden door, the padding and thudding of many bare feet supporting hundreds of pounds of muscle following behind.

If there was any confusion amongst the collection of men his sons had amassed, it disappeared the instant Sojiro swung the door open and blue and green flashes of light greeted them all, along with the shouts and yells of his two overly dramatic sons.

There was a murmur behind him, and Sojiro clenched his jaw at the thought of how much his sons were embarrassing themselves, but that’s why they were the children and he was the father, he supposed.

He led the troupe almost into the fight itself. Lucy and the cowboy were still flitting about its edges, cupping their hands around their mouths and shouting, “C’mon, darling, I’m sorry! It’s my fault! Please, baby, come back, calm down, I’m sorry, alright, I’m sorry!” 

But neither of his sons paid heed.

They would pay heed to nothing, lost as they were in a hurricane of rushing wind and clanging swords and blue and green light.

Nothing except…

“Ryūjin ga waga teki o hofuru!”

Red.

Red, red, red.

Blue and green faded away and everything, everything was red.

Sojiro didn’t need his dragons to stay long; his sons were on their knees, heads bowed, in an instant.

His dragons rolled their eyes, snuffled at Sojiro’s hair and beard for a moment, checking up on him while they had a chance, and then faded away, and the world was muted and silent as the red seeped out and left everything pale and washed out in comparison to its brilliance.

Sojiro folded his arms and looked sternly down at his sons.

They were nude, of course, having been interrupted mid-coitus, but despite the ferocity of their battle and the fear gripping their hearts, both of which made them breathe heavily, their muscled shoulders rising and falling, their penises stood proud and tall and weeping and leaking.

Sojiro shook his head, just a little.

It was high time to stop this maddening, endless dance.

“Hanzo,” he said severely.

“Father, I…”

“Genji.”

Both of his sons flinched.

If Sojiro was angry with Genji, then his patience was truly at an end.

“You two have used your balls as your brains for far too long,” Sojiro thundered. “I have had enough. Since you can’t stop squabbling over your entourages, I have no choice but to make them my entourage until I am convinced you have returned to your senses.”

“What?!” Genji screeched, daring to look up, his face contorted with anger and dismay. “Dad! You can’t do…”

Then he looked stricken and dropped his wide eyes back to the ground.

Sojiro was indulgent towards his younger son, but there were lines even he couldn’t cross.

“Look at me,” Sojiro said quietly.

Hanzo immediately raised his eyes, resolute if still somewhat fearful and even ashamed, but Genji struggled to do the same.

“Genji!” Sojiro snapped.

Genji slowly looked up, face pale.

“Do not,” Sojiro growled, making his wrath plain, “look away.”

And he turned on his heel, marched to his sons’ largest concubine, looked him up and down, and pointed at the ground. “Will you be comfortable lying here?” he asked, switching to a friendly and earnest tone, “Or should I go get a blanket?”

The giant man, who had been standing almost at attention with his hands behind his back, immediately produced a large and thick picnic blanket that he’d been hiding.

Sojiro smiled. 

Handsome, gigantic, and intelligent.

He gestured at the ground and the giant man laid the blanket out and laid down on his back.

Sojiro stepped over his hips, bent over and felt between his asscheeks and sighed as he pulled out his buttplug.

He had been saving himself for Kimura tonight, but what had to be done had to be done.

So he slowly crouched and breathed out as the giant man’s cockhead, which felt as big as his fist and probably actually was, pressed insistently at the rim of muscle guarding his entrance. He could feel himself straining even after being stretched by the plug, but he let out a hiss of success as it passed into him, stretching him wide, oh-so-wide, and penetrated deep into his guts as he slid down until he was seated on the giant man’s neatly-trimmed pubes.

He leaned back and laid flat on the giant man’s impressive chest, feeling himself rise and fall with each of his breaths.

“Now…” he mused, scanning his sons’ boyfriends, “Ah, yes, you, Akande. Come here and ride me.”

Akande snorted, but he walked forward. He eyed the base of the gigantic cock below Sojiro, and pausing just long enough to pretend that he wished he was topping rather than bottoming, despite how hard and leaking he was, he mirrored Sojiro’s actions and sank down onto Sojiro, breathing out a breath of sheer pleasure as Sojiro’s large cock disappeared inside him.

Sojiro took a moment to revel in the heat, the smell of sweat, and the tight confines that his body both enjoyed and provided.

Then his eyes snapped to the two men who had instigated this most recent crisis. 

They stood quietly by, hands clasped in front of them as though it was somehow their fault that his sons were acting so childishly, but he held no ill will toward them.

That wouldn't stop him from making an example of them.

"Come here," he commanded, and the tall cowboy and the short…was he a DJ? Soijiro was fairly sure he was a DJ…looked at each other but came forward.

Sojiro looked from one to the other, thinking, then said to Lucy, "Sit on his face," gesturing at the giant man, whose giant tongue would do well to fuck that beautiful ass. Then, addressing the cowboy, he gestured at Akande and said, "Try to deep throat him. If you can."

Lucy had flushed, relieved and excited, at Sojiro’s command. The cowboy’s eyes flashed at the challenge and strutted forward confidently.

It was no surprise that they were currently Genji and Hanzo's respective favorites…nor was it a surprise, when Lucy impishly ground down hard onto the giant man's face and the wide, red tongue waiting for him, and when the cowboy made a little choked sound when he got only two-thirds down Akande’s incredible length before determinedly getting the rest in his mouth, that Hanzo and Genji would covet the other’s toy.

Even though they each had plenty more to choose from.

"You, the supersoldiers," Sojiro called out over the slurping noises coming from the cowboy and from under Lucy, "Worship me, starting with these pecs that rival yours. You, the medic: I need something in my mouth. And you, the plant guy: fill every hole that isn't currently occupied. Including yours. But not theirs," he spat, glancing at his sons just before he clamped his lips around the tasty, dripping treat that the medic…Bap? Was his name just Bap?...offered him.

The men all around him took that as their cue to speak freely.

"Well, well, Cassidy," Alande groaned, sounding inordinately pleased as he took hold of the cowboy’s…Cassidy’s head. "At long last, here you are, where you belong."

Cassidy had just enough time for an annoyed huff before Akande began pistoning into his mouth, making his throat bulge with each stroke even as he ground down on Sojiro’s cock spearing him open…but the cowboy remained where he was, eyes watering, jaw slack.

"Mm, Rein," Lucy moaned, gyrating his hips slowly, "that's it, loosen me up, get me ready. Your tongue's as big as most cocks, so it'll feel just fine going up inside me."

The two supersoldiers gave each other a sardonic look, but then they got down to business, lapping at Sojiro’s nipples with gusto before, with genuine appreciation, following the red lines of his tattoos over the acres and acres of muscle he had cultivated over the years.

The plant guy…Near…Near? That might be from a classic show of some sort, actually…Near was talented enough that both supersoldiers, Cassidy, and Reinhardt all gasped as one as his holographic creations, somehow wet and slick and slippery, dove into their assholes simultaneously, thin at first but rapidly thickening until they were all panting and gasping with pleasure at the thick girths stretching them as open as Reinhardt stretched Sojiro.

It amused Sojiro that Near knew Reinhardt’s dimensions exactly.

Sojiro could see that because the clever man had used his plant-like creations to sling himself in the air directly over Sojiro so that he had a clear view of the vine pumping in and out of his pretty ass.

He could give his sons this: they knew how to pick them.

But now they had nothing at all…or so they thought.

As he slurped and tongued at Bap’s cock, paying special attention to a spot on the underside that made him gasp deliciously, Sojiro looked over at Hanzo and Genji.

Their shoulders were still rising and falling, no doubt breathing heavily out of frustration and arousal as they obeyed their father and watched their toys pleasure him with rapt attention…

…except…

…when one brother glanced at the other’s raging, weeping erection.

Sojiro rolled his eyes.

The problem was so plain, so obvious.

Still. Out of fear of his wrath, Hanzo and Genji would remain there forever if they had to, so it was up to him to give them one last push.

But they could stand to wait a little bit longer.

Reinhardt’s cock was punching so deep into him, and Akande’s guts were so hot and tight around him, and the supersoldiers were moaning and groaning so sweetly, their hot breaths flowing across his skin, and Cassidy’s mouth and throat and Lucy’s ass sounded so slopping wet, and Near was such a beautiful sight above him.

His sons should learn to appreciate what they had before he pointed out what had been right in front of them the entire time.

Reinhardt groaned beneath him, the sound reverberating through Sojiro like a vibrating mattress, and warmth bloomed and flooded into Sojiro, setting his nerves on fire, especially when the giant man lanced one last time directly at his prostate.

He had little choice to do anything but grab into Akande’s hips and slam him down, straining to plunge as far inside as possible as he released his own completion into him, which, of course, pushed Akande over the edge with a yell as he did exactly the same with Cassidy’s skull, burying himself to the hilt and bending over, eyes wide and mouth agape, as the cowboy desperately swallowed around the thick girth spurting into his throat.

Then, suddenly, it was raining men…’s semen, as Cassidy, Lucy, the supersoldiers, and Near all cried out (except for the cowboy, whose mouth was full), and hot drops were falling all around, covering Sojiro’s red ink and graying beard with translucent pearly white.

By the time it stopped, he could have hardly gotten a different result if he had poured bucketfuls over himself; he was absolutely drenched.

Wonderful.

He might have to invent some excuse to confiscate his sons’ toys more often…if they hadn’t learned to share, at any rate.

But they might.

Akande let out a pleased grumble as he let the cowboy slide off his cock and carefully stood, extending a big hand to Sojiro to help him dismount Reinhardt. 

Once Sojiro was on his feet, he nodded to all the men in turn in both thanks and approval as they watched semen stream down the lines and curves of his muscular body with awe.

Then he turned toward his sons.

They were still kneeling, still watching, and still rockhard.

Sojiro shook his head.

Then he said, gently, “You know....”

Both of them stiffened, expecting more harsh words.

“I have only confiscated your toys. I haven’t confiscated your brother.”

Their jaws dropped.

Sojiro smiled encouragingly.

They turned towards each other, eyes wide and searching…and still glancing down at the other’s straining, twitching erections.

Then, in a split second, they were rolling around on the ground, arms wrapped tight around each other, tasting the other’s mouth with the feverish pace of starving men.

Sojiro shook his head.

Problem solved.

He turned away and started walking toward the house, walking through the crowd of men staring at the brothers, some looking shocked and others, particularly the supersoldiers, looking like they had expected this.

Just as he passed Lucy, however, he heard the young man say to himself, sounding dejected, “I guess…they won’t be needing us anymore.”

Sojiro clapped a hand on his defined, thick shoulder. “Of course they will,” he said warmly, smiling down at him. “Perhaps not for a few days, or a week or two; they’ve been dancing around each other their entire lives, after all. But once they’ve settled, they’ll need someone to highfive over. They’ve always wanted to do the Eiffel Tower.”

Lucy brightened, looking immensely comforted.

“In the meantime,” Sojiro continued, “I have still technically confiscated you. All of you,” he added, raising his voice. “Come. I need you all to lick me clean, then scrub me clean in the baths.”

Tearing their eyes away from the spectacle, all his sons’ boytoys obediently followed, perhaps feeling grateful towards Sojiro for relieving a great pressure in their lives.

They should be grateful, Sojiro thought with a little self-aggrandizement. 

And he knew exactly how they could show it.

[nevertheless-moving]

Phantom Past Drabble

Directly taken from this au by @willowcrowned that rapidly devolved into a delightful back and forth. 

Obi-Wan blinked rapidly, trying to clear the spots from his vision as the sudden white light faded.

“What was that?” Anakin asked, bewildered.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, but the snarky response caught in his throat as a hauntingly familiar room came into focus.

Anakin's voice dropped to hush, “This looks like—“

“—the Theed generator complex, I know.” Obi-Wan sighed. “Anakin, what was the one thing we weren’t supposed to do?” 

“Touch anything.” 

“And why, do you imagine, we are here?”

“I didn’t even touch it!” Anakin said defensively.

“Oh no, you just knocked it over and kicked it into a wall-”

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin interrupted.

“What?” he tore his gaze from the spot he had last held Qui-Gon to look up at his Padawan. Anakin was staring slackjawed down the hallway.

“Qui-Gon?” Anakin breathed out, startled.

“Padawan?” The man said uncertainly, ignoring Anakin to stare intently at the familiar, yet oddly-armored man before him.

“Master?!” came the muffled yell from Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, desperately bouncing in an attempt to see what was happening.

“Maul.” hissed the elder of the two mysterious warriors, ignoring everyone else and unnerving the Zabrakian.

Who were these intruders; how dare they disrupt the Sith’s carefully laid trap? How could they possibly know his identity? They didn’t quite look like Jedi, but they did wear lightsabers openly on their belt. Maul hesitated, not sure what threat to face first.

“You’re looking rather well, have you been working out?” The one-who-knew-Maul’s-name made an odd hand motion at his younger companion, then ignited a brilliant blue saber. The darkly clad young jedi grimaced before drifting to the wall, lighting his saber in a defensive guard. 

Maul had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but decided to interpret it as a threat; the hand motion must be their attempt to strategize a trap. He would take the youngest challenger first, before killing his master.

The ray-shields began cycling open, and Maul charged.

“Of course it’s hard to tell with all the clothing in the way, but you must be doing lunges, at the very least.” Maul ignored him, but the comment startled Qui-Gon enough to make him hesitate.

Obi-Wan intercepted Maul’s charge with ease while Anakin skirted around their fight to join Qui-Gon, gently pushing him back into the hall.

“Obi-Wan said to protect you. Master Qui-Gon, you have to stay back”

Qui-Gon bristled, drawing up to his full height. “I don’t know who you think you are, but Obi-Wan is my padawan, and I intend to protect him from the Sith your…companion is facing alone.”

Anakin straightened as well, glare easily crossing the scarce few inches separating them. 

“Maul’s an expert at tripping up multiple enemy combatants, especially in a confined space. One-on-one, my master can easily beat him. I don’t like leaving him to fight alone anymore than I do, but you’ve gotta trust me on this.” 

The ray shields began cycling closed, and Qui-Gon lunged.

Anakin grabbed him in a bear hug before he could get far. Qui-Gon was forced to stumble back, narrowly avoiding being sliced in half. At the same moment, young Obi-Wan all but crashed into them. The three awkwardly teetered in place, clinging to one another and leaning wildly to avoid brushing the burning walls. 

They stumbled apart, doing their best to put space between them in the narrow chamber. 

“What’s going on? Who are you?” the padawan demanded. “Come now, I know you can do better than that” the Master dueling the Sith teased playfully on the other side of the shield. The Sith growled in response.

“It’s me! Anakin Skywalker! Don’t you recognize me?” he said grinning. “Wow, I almost forgot how baby-faced you were without the beard.” he poked at the young man’s cheek, who flinched back, startled.

Not giving them any time to process that, Anakin continued. “We were in this old temple and one of us might have knocked over this weird rock and the next thing we knew it we were here! I don’t know if we time traveled or if this is some crazy force vision but either way, wow, you are kicking Maul’s butt.”

Maul was forced to leap over the center pit to retrieve his lightstaff. “Don’t worry, everyone struggles to keep It up sometime.” Obi-Wan quipped. Maul growled in response.

“You’re…Ani. And that’s…me.” The padawan confirmed flatly. Anakin’s unfiltered sincerity and startling coiled force presence made it hard to doubt the otherwise insane claim.

“Does he normally do this?” Qui-Gon asked faintly.

“Do what?”

Maul managed to temporarily push Obi-Wan back with a desperate kick. “Much better, my dear. There’s that fighting spirit!”

“That!” Qui-Gon said, gesturing emphatically.

Anakin’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Does he… not flirt when fighting? Is this a new thing?” 

Qui-Gon just got a pained look on his face instead of answering, so Anakin turned to the younger Obi-Wan. He shrugged helplessly in response, “I don’t…think so?”

“Huh.”

[intergalacticwanderer]

(Fuck it, have a fic based on this post, I'm still laughing way too hard at the idea)

Beau had had plenty of hangovers before, but this was something else.

She came to with a disgusted groan, scrubbing at her face and having a rare instance of regretting her life choices. Usually a night of drinking wouldn't be that big of a deal, but somehow the night celebrating her stay on The Nein Heroez had devolved into a drinking contest between her and King, followed by typical Jester shenanigans, and then of course there was that weird ass demon organized death match-

Beau blinked several times. Huh. That last one was... huh. Booze induced fever dream? That seemed like the most logical answer, but that didn't explain her weirdly vivid memories of the thing, and wait, was she feeling kind of sore...?

"Beau! BEAUUUU!!! OhmyGOSHIhadtheCRAZIESTdream-!" A whirlwind of blue tiefling barged into Beau's cabin and she let out a second loud groan, clutching at her pounding head.

“Jes, c’moooon, why,” Beau said, throwing an arm over her eyes.

“It was so cool though Beau! It was this crazy death match and we were fighting this bird guy and some gnomes and there was so much stuff going on and Fjord turned into-”

“A T-Rex, yeah,” Beau said, finishing Jester’s sentence without really thinking about it. There was a pause for several seconds before Beau took the arm off her face and slowly sat up, looking at a wide eyed Jester. No fucking way. “And... I caught some bullets from a rich dude with a gun?”

“OHMYGOSH!!!” Jester shrieked, dragging Beau out of bed and out of the cabin before she could get a word in edgewise. “We have to find Fjord RIGHT NOW!”

It didn’t take long for the two of them to run into Fjord on the deck of the ship, the captain of The Nein Heroez looking slightly dazed and while not as hungover as Beau he was definitely still out of it. He ran a hand down his face as the two of them came over.

"Oh, uh, hey! Sorry, very weird night of sleep, what do you guys need?"

Jester beamed and Beau just knew that whatever dignity Fjord was trying salvage was about to die horribly.

"Oh, you know," Jester said casually, "I was just thinking about how cute your butt was hanging out last night." Fjord went stock still and Beau let out a strangled snort. "You should totally wear those again sometime, even when we're not in some crazy death match."

Fjord stayed still for several more seconds before slowly bringing his hands up to his face. "I take it that wasn't just a weird dream last night?" he said, voice slightly strangled.

"Or we at least all shared the same dream," Beau said, giving him a consoling shoulder pat. "And hey, you were still pretty bad ass, and T-Rexes are cool."

“What the FUCK?!”

Beau heard the muffled but LOUD shout from below deck and before she could figure out what was happening a half crazed Kingsley charged up the stairs, skidding to a halt in front of all of them and wild eyed, pointing accusingly.

“What did you fuckers do?! What was that death match, why do I have two names in my head now, WHERE ARE MY SWORDS?!”

“Oh fuck you Molly!” Beau responded, head throbbing, and she froze, shit, did she just-

“Well fuck you too Beau!” he said, giving the familiar reply with no hesitation and a toothy grin before his face scrunched up and he groaned. “I guess I'll have Molly as the middle name now, fuck! I’m still blaming you all for this, but fuck it! We’re still alive after that bullshit, that’s good enough for me!”

Beau’s mind scrambled to catch up with the sudden shift in reality but after a moment she decided follow her friend’s lead and just say fuck it.

"Dude I am JUST as clueless as you are, no idea." She hesitated and then gave him a light punch in shoulder, Kingsley (Molly? Both? What the fuck) rubbing his shoulder but still grinning. "And good morning to you too," she said.

"And time for BREAKFAST!" Jester yelled while throwing her arms in the air, everyone else wincing from their hangovers and the loud volume. "Don't worry, I can heal the hangovers if you really need it. But let's go eat!"

The four of them started on their way to the galley, Beau watching as the tieflings started a rapid fire back and forth conversation. She laughed when they stuck their tongues out at each other simultaneously, Fjord groaning, and once again she decided to say fuck it. Knowing what was going on or not, this was good enough for now.

***

("Wait, what do mean I was stuck in a rock?!")

(Part Two)

[merlinsbudgiesmugglers]

The Return Part 1

Some more Remadora! I swear I try to write them happy but the angst is just too tempting to write.

AO3

Part 2

Nine days. That’s how long it had been since Tonks had woken up in her childhood bedroom and seen a scrap of parchment with the words I’m sorry in Remus’ neat handwriting on the pillow next to her.

She’d known he was worried when she told him about the baby, it was clear on his face, but she’d never dared to think that his suggestion that they move to her parents was anything more than for the safety of their child.

Though she supposed it was in a way. He didn’t want to leave her on her own.

She’d gone to the kitchen, dropping the note on the table between her parents as they had breakfast and confessed to them the real reason that they had come to stay. It took an hour for her mother to quietly suggest that it was better this way and the ensuing fight between the two women rattled the house. Tonks considered leaving, but when the Daily Prophet reported the creation of the Muggleborn Registration Committee, they had something more to worry about.

Six days. The amount of time the small Tonks family spent going back and forth over what to do. Ted was determined to stay, to protect his family. Andromeda wanted them all to go into hiding together. She and Ted had done it when they first married, terrified of repercussions from her family. They could do it again.

Tonks knew she was a danger to her parents, whether or not they went into hiding. A ministry employee who had stopped going in, a known member of the Order. The pregnant wife of a werewolf and the daughter of a muggleborn. She tried to convince her parents to leave her, to go on the run without her, but they refused time and again. They wouldn’t leave her on her own.

Remus wasn’t mentioned.

A sunny afternoon, nine days after Remus had left, found the three of them together in the kitchen when the doorbell rang. Tonks and Andromeda playing chess at the kitchen table, the only activity they could participate in without it devolving into an argument and Ted was prepping a chicken for their dinner. The sound of the pleasant chime ringing through the house had them immediately tense and reaching for their wands. Andromeda stood to answer the door, Ted moved towards the exit to the garden and Tonks planted herself between the two of them.

She could hear her mother speaking, though it wasn’t clear enough to make out the question. She looked to her father but he seemed as lost as her as to who their visitor was. No one dropped by unannounced these days.

Just as she was about to go investigate, Andromeda returned to the kitchen, followed by Remus. Tonks froze, caught halfway between sitting and standing as she stared at her husband, struggling to believe he was actually in front of her. He’d clearly been living rough, his face was unshaven, there were dark circles under his eyes.

‘Dora.’

The sound of his voice was enough to spur her into action. She straightened up and turned, walking past her father and his concerned look, out into her parents' garden. When she heard Remus follow, the door closing behind him, she cast muffliato and whirled around to face him, waiting for him to speak.

But he stayed silent, looking at her with soft eyes. They stayed like that, watching each other from across the garden for a minute before he spoke.

‘I’m sorry.’

That was all it took. All the anger, worry and betrayal that she had been feeling for the last nine days swirled inside of her. She stormed across the garden, shoving him hard in the chest. ‘You’re sorry?’ She yelled, shoving him again. ‘You left me!’ Another shove.

Remus reached up and gently wrapped his hands around her wrists. ‘I know.’

Tonks looked up at him, tears filling her eyes that for once she didn’t blink away. ‘You promised me, you made a vow. ’

‘I know.’ He whispered, leaning close to her. ‘I was scared.’

Tonks scoffed and wrenched away from him. ‘We’re all scared, Remus.’ She spat.

He looked defeated, it took everything in Tonks to not just forgive him. To not give in to the relief at seeing him, but the anger that she had tamped down since he left refused to abate. 

‘I thought it was for the best.’ He said quietly.

‘What? To leave me, to leave your baby. And what? Hide out? Get yourself killed fighting some Death Eaters? What would we do then?’ Her hands came to rest on her stomach. ‘You being dead doesn’t change the fact that this is your child.’

‘I know.’

She drew her wand. ‘If you say ‘I know’ one more time, Remus, I swear to God.’

‘What do you want me to say? I was scared and I messed up!’ He took a step towards her. ‘When you told me the news I was happy, I was so happy. A baby, one just like you. Precocious and charming. Maybe they would be a metamorphagus.’ He reached out for her hand, and she let him take it. ‘And then I started to think about what if the baby ended up like me?’ 

The same thought had run through her mind the moment the potion turned white, and nearly every moment since.

‘We don’t know that it will.’

‘We don’t know that it won’t.’ He said fervently.

Tonks pulled her hand from his grip again. ‘So what happens if this baby turns out to be a werewolf?’ Remus closed his eyes at the word, as if saying it would make it true. ‘Are you going to leave us again? Wash your hands of us and disappear again?’

He hesitated, his shoulders slumping as the fight left him. ‘I came back.’ He said softly

Tonks looked away from him, tears pricking at the back of her eyes again. ‘I don’t know if it’s enough.’

‘What can I do to make you believe me?’

She looked back at him. She loved this man so fiercely, and she hated that she couldn’t trust him. ‘Give me time.’ She said before moving past him. ‘You’ll sleep on the couch tonight.’ She added before she went inside, firmly ignoring her parents’ questioning gazes.

[sunnysviolin]

Omotober Day Three- Picnics

If you want to read it on ao3 (now as one singular fic because I am a dum dum) you can do that here

When Hero suggested that the five of them get together and have a picnic, Basil was nervous, but excited. There was a part of him that would always be afraid, but more than anything he wanted things to go back to the way they used to be. A picnic could be the start of that.

But Basil should have known that things could never go back to the way they used to be.

“Forgiveness, reader, is, I think, something very much like hope and love - a powerful, wonderful thing.

And a ridiculous thing, too.”- Kate DiCamillo

Basil wasn’t really sure what to expect when their group decided to get together for a picnic again like they used to, but his first inclination wouldn’t have been that there would be a fist fight about to break out.

After the fight, and the hospital, and everything that came after, things had gotten surprisingly calm and quiet. The guilt that had eaten his insides for all those years was gone, and in its place was peace. Yes, he still felt awful about what they had done, but the secret was over, and he no longer had to hold all of that pain by himself.

Their friends had accepted the truth at varied rates, and Basil was sure it would take a long time before they ever even came close to forgiving him or Sunny. Aubrey was still quick to anger, Hero was still avoidant of the pain, but things had changed. Something about those last few days Sunny had spent with them in Faraway had changed them all, made everyone more open to trying with each other again. Even after they learned everything.

It felt good to be friends again, to be able to look at their faces without the self loathing threatening to crush him. He would take whatever halted measures of friendship they would give, if it only meant not being alone again. So when Hero suggested a picnic, Basil eagerly agreed without thinking twice.

He should have thought twice.

The planning had gone perfectly fine. Kel was a hundred percent on board, and he had even offered to help with making the food. The other boy seemed most pleased that it was Hero specifically who was extending the branch out. Basil knew that, of all of them, Hero was probably going to have the most mixed emotions about what he and Sunny had done. Still, Hero was Hero. Even if he hated them both, he would never reveal it.

Aubrey had seemed unsure, but Kel’s enthusiasm and the promise of getting Sunny back to join them had her agreeing. Basil knew she and Sunny talked on the phone pretty often, maybe even more than Sunny and himself. Aubrey was trying hard to make up for the last four years, and she spent most of her time with Basil or by herself. She said it was to ‘figure things out’ and he didn’t pry. He knew how hard it was to accept things in your past that you didn’t want to think about or the parts of yourself that you didn’t like all that much.

Then there was Sunny. They had all crowded together around Kel’s home phone to talk to Sunny about their idea. He had agreed to come and made plans to sleep at Kel and Hero’s house the night of their picnic. Logically it would have made more sense for him to stay with Basil, there was more room at Basil’s house, but it went unspoken between them why Kel and Hero had extended the offer instead. He would catch the train in and out and be back by dinner the next day, it wasn’t a far journey. None of them had seen Sunny since the hospital, at least not in person, and Basil wondered what it might be like to lay eyes on the other boy now.

The day came and they had split into natural groups. Most of the preparations were already done, but there were a few things to finish up on the morning of. Hero would take care of finishing the food, Aubrey would set up in their spot in the park, and Basil and Kel were going to go pick up Sunny from the train station.

Everything was good. The day was bright and warm with not a single cloud in the sky, Sunny’s train had arrived right on time, and Sunny had even greeted them both with quick but tight hugs and a small smile. He was still wearing an eyepatch (and apparently would always be from now on) but he looked a lot better. The bags under his eyes were gone, and the greying pallor of his skin had vanished. He held himself a little straighter, spoke a little more, and the air of fear that seemed to surround Sunny had dissipated into nothing.

Kel had grabbed both of their hands and swung them through the air as they walked towards the park, chattering about what he and Hero had planned for that day. Basil was content to let Kel do most of the talking and shared a secret amused look behind his back with Sunny. This was something that had happened all the time when they were kids, and the nostalgia of it was easy to fall into.

When they got to the park and saw Aubrey, things were awkward for all of two seconds before she punched Sunny gently on the arm and ruffled his hair, bringing them over to the set up she had created. The picnic blanket was a checkered blue, not red, but it was soft. There was the scent of flowers in the air from the bushes nearby in bloom, and a breeze twirled the pinwheels clustered in the distance. It felt so blissfully...normal. Like they could just fall right back into step where they left off all those years ago.

Basil should have hit himself over the head for thinking that.

It started so innocently. They were waiting for Hero to arrive and sighing about how nice their little corner of the world was, when Aubrey made an offhand comment about her friends potentially joining them next time. Before Basil could even really process what her words, Kel had said no. He hadn’t said it in a joking way or to tease her. Kel had snapped, and the tension in his shoulder and the hardness of his eyes told them all that he was deadly serious.

It was jarring. Of all of them, Kel had always been the friendliest. Hero may have been the most popular, but Kel wasn’t far behind his brother in natural charm. He was sweet and sincere, and almost always willing to get to know people. It wasn’t like him to shut down so quickly or with such force. Kel’s face was stormy and he was avoiding eye contact with all of them, keeping those hard eyes locked with the ground. Aubrey seemed livid, but she sat stony and silent, waiting for more of an explanation. The one that came only made things worse.

“I just don’t see why you would even wanna be around them anymore,”

Aubrey, loyal beyond words, had swooped in to defend the rest of her gang, claiming that they were good people who were great friends. This had only made Kel scoff, which infuriated her even more. Basil was used to Aubrey and Kel getting into arguments, he was even okay with the escalated fight that had happened at the dock (seeing as he blamed himself for causing it), but this was unlike any of those.

Normally it was Kel who kept fairly cool during these things, and Aubrey that went ballistic. Yes, Kel fought right back with her and gave as good as he got, but he had always seemed calm and collected, mostly joking around and poking fun at how red Aubrey’s face would get.

Now it was his cheeks that were tinged, and his throat that was raw from screaming, in a way that Basil had never seen before. He stayed silent and tried to keep himself small, hands clasping together over his chest as he tried to remember the deep breathing techniques Polly had been teaching him. They didn’t seem to be working. A quick glance to the side showed Sunny in a similar state of distress, watching their friends argue with a wide eye and clear panic etched into his features.

Aubrey and Kel’s argument devolved fast, going from something that held worth to just being insults hurled back and forth. They began to advance on each other, clearly done with words and moving past to blows, but a voice cut through, breaking the intensity that had caught them all firmly in its grip.

“What’s going on?”

The four of them turned around simultaneously, varying stages of guilt evident on everyone’s faces. Hero emerged from the brush, carrying a large wooden picnic basket on one arm, his mouth turned downwards.

He surveyed the moment and sighed, a tired sound that betrayed a weight that they all knew Hero carried but refused to let them bear with him. The eldest walked over and gently placed the basket down on the blanket, glancing at each of them in turn.

“You okay, Sunny?” Hero asked, and Sunny nodded. He seemed calmer now that someone was intervening, but fear was still there. Hero patted him once on the top of his head and peered around the youngest. “Basil?”

Basil nodded too, his own words caught in his throat. It wasn’t the same as when Something had been squeezing him too tight to breathe, it wasn’t that bad yet, but it was still pretty bad. Nothing he couldn’t handle though, and Basil knew that Hero needed to be focusing on the other two right now. With both of them checked on, Hero stood at his full height and stared at the others.

“Explain,”

Both teens burst into words, voices raising as they tried to shout over each other and interject to disprove what the other had just claimed. Hero listened to the cacophony for a moment and then raised his hands, yelling over them to quiet down. Once it was settled again, Hero turned to Aubrey.

“Aubrey, you go first. You can talk with no interruptions. Then Kel is going to talk with no interruptions, and we’re all going to listen to each other. I want each of you to explain to me why you’re fighting, okay?” Both teens nodded, and Hero sat down, gesturing for the other two to sit back down as well. They did, and then Aubrey began to talk.

“Out of nowhere Kel starts going off about my friends and talking bad about them for no reason,” Kel made a noise here and Hero looked at him. The younger brother rolled his eyes but stayed silent, and Hero waved a hand at Aubrey to continue, “I don’t get why he’s so angry, but I don’t care. He had no right to say all of those things. That’s why they don’t like you, you just assume the worst of them.”

Kel shot a harsh glare towards the girl, something fiery and fueled with a deep rage that was completely out of character for him. Then when he spoke, the oddities only continued.

“I didn’t start ‘out of nowhere’. You started this by saying you wanted us all to hang out with them. Like we’re all pals. Did you forget that the only thing you did when you spent time with them was bully people and act like none of us mattered to you? You keep talking about how you wanna change, but you don’t. You just want to act like nothing you did mattered. They bullied m- Basil for years! If you’re really our- his friend I don’t know why you don’t want to protect Basil from those guys,” Kel finished his speech with a huff, crossing his arms and curling in on himself.

“I apologized to Basil plenty already!” Aubrey replied, a glance to Hero when she began. When he didn’t interrupt her, she kept going, “He forgave me, and now we’re trying to get past it. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Maybe we should listen to what Basil thinks?” Hero suggested, trying to keep the conversation from riding off the rails as it had before, “If you’re both so worried about him, it seems like his opinion would be the most important thing here,”

Then all eyes were on him, waiting to hear what he had to say. Basil twisted his fingers in his lap and laughed nervously, his mouth filling with cotton as both sides of the argument clearly looked for his backing.

“I-I don’t know?” He finally replied, the words sounding small and useless, only making everyone madder, “I wouldn’t mind trying I guess. Seeing if if it works out, ya know?”

Hero perked up here, shooting Basil a grateful smile. Aubrey seemed vindicated and her anger began to melt. The tension eased out of the air, and Basil breathed out. It was all going to be okay now. It was just a regular Kel and Aubrey fight. They would hug the way Hero always forced them to at the end of their arguments, and then the five of them could enjoy the afternoon together.

“Kel, if Basil is okay with it then it’s fine. Why don’t you two hug and make up and then-”

“What if I’m not okay with it, Hero?!” Kel exploded, cutting his brother off, “What about that?!”

Stunned silence coupled with an even stronger tension surrounding the group. Kel and Aubrey fighting he could understand, even Kel and Aubrey dragging Hero in to play referee he could understand, but never before had Basil seen Kel yell at Hero. Kel worshipped the ground Hero walked on, his big brother could do no wrong, and Basil had never seen any evidence that he ever had.

But Kel wasn’t done yet, and he continued his yelling. It was like something had cut into him with those words, and now that something, dark and black, was finally getting a chance to leak out of Kel. Basil knew all about Somethings. About how painful it was to live with them, about how they always eventually burst out and demanded to be seen. He just had never thought Kel might have a Something too.

“It isn’t fair that they get to spend years being terrible people. and then just act like they never did any of it. It isn’t fair that I have to just pretend like they weren’t awful to me. Like I didn’t spend most afternoons crying on my walk home because of them. Like I didn’t have to second guess everything single thing I did because they made me think that I was a bully.”

Basil had remembered hearing them calling Kel that before, and it had confused him then too. Kel had never done anything like bullying to anyone, but Basil had dismissed it. It seemed so ridiculous to him, he thought Kel would have just let it go too. Apparently not

“All I’ve ever done is try to help. I smiled and laughed and pretended like nothing bothered me because that’s what everyone else needed. And what did that get me? A bat to the face and being told by my own bullies that I was the one messing with them. They’re the bullies. Mean, angry bullies who I never did anything to. Except try to be friends with you.” Kel finally pulled his eyes to Aubrey with this final word, cutting his furious ranting off with a half laugh half sob. He brought his knees up to his chest and put his arms on top of them. He wasn’t crying, but the pain in his eyes was enough to make Basil’s own chest ache in sympathy.

“And then you let them call me a bully. When I didn’t do anything except try to help.”

Kel dropped his head against his knees, hiding and breathing harshly. His shoulders rose and fell. Up and down and up and down as he panted with exertion from his outburst of emotion. None of them made a sound. Basil wouldn’t have known what to say after that, and he was sure no one else did either. They also couldn’t have been prepared for the final blow that was about to be dealt.

“You all just wanna pretend like none of it ever happened...like all that time didn’t matter.” Kel’s voice was muffled, but the words hit all of them like a punch to the gut.

It wasn’t just about this one fight, it wasn’t even just about Aubrey’s friends. It was bigger, stretching out for years and years of suffering that had never been addressed. Basil’s breath caught in his throat, and he could see the others were in a similar state of shock. He looked down at his interlocked fingers, his stomach twisting up in knots.

It was so easy to forget with Kel. It was so simple to just get lost in his happy go lucky personality and his endless bounds of optimism. He always had time for them all, always willing to go that extra mile to help out his friends when they needed him.

He hadn’t given up on them. He hadn’t stopped knocking on Sunny’s door, even when he never answered. He hadn’t stopped saying hi to Basil, even when he didn’t say hi back. He hadn’t stopped encouraging Hero, even when Hero had no encouragement left to offer in return. He had even still looked for the good in Aubrey, when she had nothing good to say about him. That was just who Kel was, someone who kept trying.

But Basil knew better than any of them that a person could only be pushed so far before there was a part of them that was cracked and bleeding and needed others to heal it. Kel was a nice person, a happy person, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have his moments of doubt. The times where he needed to rely on them instead of the other way around. He never pushed, so no one ever was forced to notice all the bad thoughts and emotions piling up under that sweet sunshine smile. It was just easy to forget that those things existed behind his joy and his upbeat attitude.

They were the people who should have remembered to look. They were the ones who should have known. They had all wanted things to go back to the way they were, but the truth was they couldn’t.

There was no way to erase four years, no way to let go of what had happened to Mari. It existed, it was real, and all of them had tried to ignore it. All except for Kel, who had done everything he could to hold them all together without so much as a complaint. He was right, instead of acknowledging his sacrifices, they had acted like none of it had ever happened. That was what was unchallenging, that was what took no effort. But that was also what was killing Kel inside.

He didn’t know what they could say that would even start to mend four years of their friend trying and failing and continuing to try against all hope. What could a person say to that kind of dedication? What kind of thanks could be given to someone who took on that burden without a word until it had nearly crushed him?

It turned out that Basil didn’t need to know the answer. There was someone else who did.

Aubrey rose up from her spot across from Kel on the picnic blanket and plopped down next to him, turning her head away from the other boy. Her hand moved to his, settling on his elbow and grabbing his attention. Kel raised his head, staring silently at her as she looked at him from the side.

Basil didn’t know what conversation the two of them had without words, but he suspected he would never know. Things like that were only ever meant for two people, and even asking about it was treading on something sacred. Whatever it was, it was enough for Kel to uncurl from the position he had put himself in. He sat on his knees facing Aubrey, and she turned to do the same. She took a deep breath and raised her head, meeting his gaze fully.

“I’m sorry,”

It wasn’t much, when it came down to it. It wasn’t a long speech filled with tears and impassioned pleas. Aubrey wasn’t on her knees begging for forgiveness, or making promises to be better. She hadn’t even said it in a special tone or in a whisper meant just for the two of them. It was an apology, nothing more, nothing less.

It wasn't really much, but it felt so big. They were all touched by her words, all impacted by the enormity of such a small but profound statement. Sunny edged closer and leaned against Basil, and the weight against his side was warm and grounding. He looked down at the top of Sunny’s head, and the vines looping around his spine eased away once more.

When he turned back, Aubrey and Kel were hugging, sitting up on their knees and clutching hard to one another. He wasn’t sure which one of them moved first, but it wasn’t something he had ever seen. Basil has only ever seen them giving each other quick little hugs, or the awkward side squeezes Hero demanded after their fights. But this wasn’t either of those. It was genuine and real, and they both seemed a little reluctant when they pulled apart.

Hero, ever the older brother, beamed and pulled the basket to the center of their group, changing the subject to the food that he and Kel made. To anyone outside of their group, it might have seemed like a callous way to change the subject, but the other four were grateful for something to switch their minds to.

With the moment over, Aubrey went back to her usual brusque, digging into the basket and pulling out a sandwich and bottle of water. She grabbed the food and Sunny’s hand, dragging him over to one of the corners and demanding to hear about his new house. Sunny obliged her, talking about his room and the renovation plans his mother had begun.

Kel drifted over to Hero, falling against his brother’s side and leaning his head against Hero’s shoulder. Basil didn’t interrupt, but he watched Hero wrap Kel in his arms and whisper in his ear, something that had to be comforting given how Kel nodded and snuggled closer to his brother. Hero squeezed Kel and turned to Basil.

“How’s the new garden coming along?”

[lustbile-archive]

Just Check It Out

JaehyunxReader

Word Count: 6.7k

Summary/Warnings: Smut. Oral (reader receiving), public-ish sex, flirty but also suspicious stranger!Jaehyun, sharp object and blood play/consumption, and honestly low key shitty friends.

Apart of the Club X series: Masterlist

Can be read on its own or within the series.

Your face is screwed up and your nails dig harshly into the palms of your hands in anxiety as you stare at the hollow looking building in front of you. The only signs of life is the red light that pulses and radiates from underneath the entrance door, and the taunting laughter that rattles from behind you deep from the bellies of your two friends.

“What are you, a scaredy cat?” one of your friends asks as she reaches forward to pinch your arm, “just go in.”

“What are you, a twelve year old?” you rebut, your tone a lot more clipped and harsh than you wanted, but the fear crawling up your spine fogs your judgment.

“What happened to a warehouse?” you mutter, mostly to yourself, but the sounds of confusion from behind you tells you they had heard.

“What are you going on about a warehouse?” your other friend takes her turn questioning you, her tone slightly more concerned than the other.

“What do you mean going on about a warehouse?” your voice is shrill as you turn so quickly it made you slightly dizzy, your jaw dropping and your eyebrows furrowing immediately in shock and confusion, “you two heard what that weirdo taxi driver said. He dropped that person off and picked them up from a warehouse. A warehouse! Not some weird ass club.”

The story that the skeevy old man had told you and your friends ran through your mind still. Something about how he had picked up and dropped off the same person every few weekends during his shift, but one night, when he definitely remembered dropping them off, he never got the call to take them home.

“Oh come on so what,” your first friend speaks again, her voice louder than necessary as you started to pace back and forth in front of them, “like you just said, he was just some weirdo old taxi driver. The story probably isn’t even true and if it was he probably didn’t notice that it was a club cause he was too busy trying to figure out how to kidnap the person.”

“Yeah cause that makes me feel so much better,” your stepping slows slightly as you respond, your eyes rolling so hard they ache, “and why is it me that has to go in in the first place huh?”

“Because you suck at rock, paper, scissors.”

You can’t stop yourself when you petulantly stomp your foot, a wash of shame and nerves washing over you immediately after as you cross your arms over your chest. The worst part was that she wasn’t wrong. Whatever force in the universe that was looking down, or up, at you tonight had it out for you, and it only took about three rounds of the hand game before you lost to both of the girls in front of you.

“Listen,” the a lot more gentle friend of the two started, wrapping her arms gently around your stiff form, “just go in, take a look around, and then come back. We’ll be right here waiting, and if it’s cool we’ll all go in.”

‘Or you could just come with me,’ you think to yourself, but something clogs your throat, forcing the words to remain swirling in your chest.

“Fine,” you let yourself sink into her hold for a few seconds, before you start to wiggle free. She smiles softly at the way you pout, and an evil part of you anticipates guilt tripping both of them when you escape the creepy building, “but if you’re even an inch away from this exact spot when I get back you’re dead.”

Their grumbles of ‘yeahs’ and ‘okay whatever’s’ is lost behind you as you teeter on the edge of the sidewalk. You only allow yourself a moment to wonder how a night out with friends devolved into you entering a strange club, before your looking both ways and crossing the street.

You can only imagine how silly you look as you sprint across the road, a nervous skip in your step from the lack of a crosswalk beneath your feet, and when you land on the sidewalk again you’re slightly winded from the anxiety that pumps in you.

The door and the building is about a thousand times more intimidating now that you stand in front of it, the entrance grinning at you like a hungry monster. You can feel the stares of your friends eating at the skin of your back as you stand there curled into yourself, and a warmth spreads across your skin in embarrassment when you notice two men standing to the side, at a front row seat to you shaking like a leaf.

There’s a moment of relief when you see that they don’t seem to notice you, too busy scrolling through their respective phones while one nurses a cigarette. But this relief does nothing to truly calm you of the fact that you have to enter the building marked as “Club X” or face the taunting of your friends. And while you are an adult and the childishness of the jeers from your peers shouldn’t phase you, them questioning your confidence isn’t something you’d like to deal with.

With a deep breath, you stand straight. ‘It’s one drink and a look around’ you remind yourself, ‘you shouldn’t be nervous it’s just a club and you’re an adult.’

From your own scolding you start to come to your senses that yes, there’s no reason to be scared, and without even thinking about it, you notice that your feet have already started carrying you through the threshold.

The red lighting is bright and darkens the writhing bodies that occupy the huge club. If it wasn’t for the thumping bass of music, you could have easily convinced yourself that you stand in the beginning of a horror house, and amongst all the normal club goers was a masked man holding a knife waiting for you to let your guard down for even a second.

‘A drink,’ the quiet voice in your head reminds you, and with a quick glance around to locate the bar, you're pushing through the masses of flesh and sweat to get just that.

You also remember that you're here to take a look around.

It’s a normal club from the looks of it. Too many bodies pressed too close together, a less than inviting restroom tucked in the back corner, the back of the large room littered with booths full of people drinking and yelling over the music. The music itself pumps from huge speakers that stand in front of a short elevated stage, a man standing behind a dj booth controls exactly what pours from the speakers as a group of rambunctious men drink and roughhouse behind him.

Right before you reach the bar, is when you notice something you didn’t fully expect. Towards the back, and high up on the wall, there was a balcony. There was a singular chair, large enough to hold a person and then some, and a large potted plant that branches out so far that it’s vines wrap and devour the railing beautifully, but other than that, nothing. There’s a heavy looking curtain hiding whatever room the balcony connects to, and directly below it is a hollow looking hallway with a thick rope blocking it from the general club goer.

You’re so distracted by the odd sight, you don’t realize how close to the bar you had gotten before you hip bumps harshly into one of its stools. You can’t stop the quiet yelp that leaves you from the quick shock of pain, but even worse is the hiss that escapes the teeth of the young man that stands behind the worn wood of the bar. Even in your regained embarrassment and warmed cheeks you’re able to form the thought that the guy who glances at you with gentle sympathy looks a little young for a bartender.

“Um, can I,” you stutter slightly as you take a seat in the offending stool, praying you can fake confidence enough to smother your embarrassment, “can I get a drink, please?”

“Oh um,” the boy matches your stuttering as he appears just as flustered as you at what happened, “I’m gonna be honest, um the actual bartender had to step away for a moment to uhhh… attend to something. So the best I can give you is like a beer.”

“That should be fine,” you sink slightly in relief and endearment as his own nervous state works to release you from your own.

He moves to step away from you, before you quickly interrupt, “oh don’t you need my id or something?”

“Oh yeah,” he blanks before you, staring off as if he suddenly remembers the existence of laws, “uh I’m gonna be honest, I don’t care. Just, if you see the real bartender at all tonight just don’t tell him okay?”

“I respect your honesty,” you speak to his retreating form as he grabs your drink, and when he returns with a cold amber bottle, you continue, “just between the two of us.”

“Just between us,” he places the bottle next to your hand before shooting you quick finger guns. A small grin still lives on your lips as you bring the opening up to your mouth as he walks away to try to nudge a passed out man that snoozes with his face pressed against the splintering wood awake.

Drink had, club looked at, and as far as you’re concerned, your mission is done. The club seems harmless enough, so with your bottle still gripped between your fingers, you stand to leave and report to your friends that the club is open for business if they’re interested.

Your sure you take the same path that you did to get to the bar, it would be hard not to after you’ve already established where the dj, bar, and weird balcony was placed. But when you’re standing in the exact place that you're sure was where the entrance stood, you’re faced with nothing but a solid empty wall.

Maybe you got turned around, with the amount of people rushing by and the lighting causing it to be a little difficult to see, it wouldn’t be completely out of the realm of possibility. But for the life of you, you could have sworn you turned around and took the exact same path.

You stand frozen in place for a moment, staring at the wall as people dodge and bump into you. You can't imagine how odd you look just staring at a blank wall, but a small part of you hopes that your vision is just compromised and if you look just a little harder, maybe the entrance is still there.

In a last ditch effort, you reach out. Your fingers gently brush the cold wall, before you huff and press your palm flat against it. No false wall, or optical illusion, so maybe you really did just get turned around.

All hopes of that being the truth is immediately crushed when you finally turn around. The balcony high and taunting exactly in the place you’d dreaded it would be, the corner of the bar peeking out from behind a mass of bodies almost as if it’s inviting you to return for just one more drink.

Your heart leaps to your throat when reality starts to set in, but alongside reality, is a rush of determination. There’s no way you’re just stuck here, you tell yourself. You have to get back to your friends and you’re sure that amongst the dozens of bodies that stand around you, there’s no way that they plan on staying here for good right?

There has to be another exit, at least a side door that leads to one of the alleys that stand around the perimeter of the building.

Your hand returns flat to the wall, and you begin to walk. You assume the fastest way to find an exit is to just walk the entire room, and hopefully with you grounding yourself with the wall, you won’t get sucked into the bodies that seem unaware that they’re being locked in.

You keep your shoulder pressed to the wall as well, staying close in hopes to avoid any bumping shoulders or sharp elbows. There are a few times that you have to dodge the rare groping couple that decides the flat surface of the wall is the best place to press against for a good public make out, but you’re quick to return when they’re behind you.

You trace the entirety of the right wall of the building with no luck, and as you turn the corner and pass the restroom you’ve started to huff in disappointment. Maybe the back wall, or the hollow hallway you saw earlier will bring more luck, and if not it probably won’t kill to return to the guy who’s watching the bar to demand he tells you how to escape.

Even though you’re determined to stay focused on finding a way out, you can’t help but to stare at the balcony as you get closer and closer. You can see now that the railing sparkles in the warm light, and you assume it’s made of a gold metal. The vines are even more beautiful as you get closer, and you now notice they’re accompanied by small dark red flowers that look vaguely familiar. But carnations don’t grow on vines do they?

You lose yourself so much in your thoughts that you don’t notice the body approaching you. It’s until you're about a foot away from the dark hallway that you’re pulled from your own universe by a large hand that lands on the wall directly in front of your face.

You jump about a foot in the air, a quiet yelp leaving your lungs as you follow the line the stranger's arm makes to reach his face. And while you know deep down that attractiveness doesn’t mean someone is automatically good, you can’t deny the man that stands in front of you is beautiful and his soft but mischievous eyes makes you slightly relax.

“Believe it or not, but I didn’t really intend to scare you,” he laughs softly as he leans closer, his hand not moving an inch from its spot next to your head, “but you’re looking very beautiful tonight.”

Your eyebrows furrow at how his tone sounds weirdly familiar, and how his words somewhat suggest he’s seen you before. But you know you’ve never met nor seen this man in your life, there’s no way you’d forget a face like that.

“That’s kind of bold of you,” you say with a soft smile that tells him you don’t really mind, and the task at hand starts to slowly slip from your mind as you lose yourself in his soft eyes.

“Easy to be bold when you’re telling the truth,” he leans closer as he speaks, and as he crowds your personal space, you start to feel a fuzzy static wrap around your body, “you look like you’re headed somewhere sweetheart. Can I ask where exactly that is?”

“Oh,” you pulled slightly back into reality at the question, and you even peer around his shoulder to try to see if the entrance has returned and become visible since your journey to the back of the club, “I’m trying to find the exit.”

“Hmm,” his hand not caging you against the wall lifts to scratch gently at his chin as he lets your words roll around in his mind, “well the back is kind of a weird place to be looking for that isn’t it? Why don’t you just go out the same way you came in?”

It’s impossible to ignore the slight twang of taunting in his tone, like he knows something you don’t, but you quietly choose to brush it off. Maybe it’s just your imagination.

“Oh well,” you start before you realize you may sound a little weird if you try to tell him about the disappearing entrance, “you know just… heading that way now.”

He only smiles at you as you laugh nervously as you start to fiddle with your fingers. He’s nice, his slightly drooping eyes making him seem harmless regardless of the way he presses you into the wall, but nevertheless his charming aura and the way his cologne has started to flood your nose and fog up your brain makes you start to get delirious.

“Do you think you could spare me a few seconds before you head out?” His head tilts slightly to the side as a cute and playful pout lands on his lips, and the way he stares you down tells you he knows you won't tell him no, “if only you want to of course.”

“Yeah sure,” you breathe out as you sink back against the wall, despite the little voice in your head that is desperately trying to remind you of your friends that remain outside.

“Good,” his hand finally moves from the wall, only to move a few inches to rub his thumb softly over your cheekbone, “now what is someone so pretty doing in a place like this.”

You can’t help but grin at how cliche he is, but it weirdly fits him and makes your heart flutter, “a place like this? Seems like just a normal grimy club to me, what do you know that I don’t?”

He huffs out a breath, his head softly shaking at the question, “I couldn’t even begin to tell you.”

“Ooo, well maybe if it’s that bad maybe I should go,” you tease, lifting up from the wall slightly, only for him to move his hand down to your shoulder to push you back.

“Well it’s not that bad,” he backtracks as his hand starts to test the waters and trails down your arm until he’s holding your wrist, “not if you stick with me.”

“You a regular here?”

“Hm, yeah,” he pulls on your wrist until it rests on his shoulder, and a pleased hum fills his chest when you take the liberty to stretch out your fingers to scratch at the base of his skull, “something like that.”

“Then maybe you wanna show me around, since it’s my first time here?” You pull him closer as you talk, until his chest starts to brush against you, “maybe show me to the entrance.”

“No, no. I think I’d like to keep you right here,” you were only teasing with the suggestion, but he seems stern when he speaks. This tone and the way he dips his face into the bend of your neck when he finishes makes your breath rush out of you.

“Are you okay with this?” He asks softly, only loud enough for you to hear over the thumping music, his lips brushing the now burning skin of your neck.

“Very okay,” you reassure, and as you thread your fingers fully into the thick hair at the back of his head, the idea of getting back to your friends completely slips your mind.

He only hums again in response before his mouth opens wide to lick at the skin stretched across your jugular, his lips slowly sucking a chunk of skin into his mouth and pulling blood to the surface to form a bruise.

You flinch and your other hand moves to join the other in tugging at his roots when his teeth scrape against the sensitive skin. Your head tilts to the side as he starts to move his lips across your jaw and his hips push between your slowly opening legs. The loud music feels like its wrapping around you and feeding you to the wall behind you as his hands now move to squeeze at the flesh that protects the sides of your ribs.

“Who are you?” your words come out stuttered, breathless, and broken, the question slipping out almost by accident as he continues his work on your neck.

“Who do you think I am?” He returns rhetorically. Having another question thrown back at you makes you flicker off for a moment, and by the time you pull yourself from your own foggy brain, he has his teeth biting into your earlobe.

You can only let out a whimper as he licks at the shell of your ear and you try to collect your suddenly scattered thoughts. It doesn’t get any easier as he starts to knead harshly at the skin and flesh underneath his fingers and your knees start to lose their strength.

“How far will you let me go?” Another question to add to your swirling mind, but he doesn’t seem any form of impatient as you collect your thoughts together to respond.

He pulls away from where he’s tucked into your shoulder, his forehead coming to rest against yours, and with the sudden eye contact, it's like he pulls you back down to earth.

You feel very suddenly awake, and it seems like the club disappears behind him, the only remaining evidence of it being the way the music and voices still thump against your eardrums. The way he looks at you is softer than you imagined, but there’s still the inkling of arousal behind his eyes that you know what he’s asking.

“Don’t stop,” you finally answer with zero hesitation, using the hold you still have on his hair as leverage to pull him to your mouth.

He grins wide against your lips, a deep and pleased chuckle leaving him before his eager tongue is pushing its way into your mouth.

With his strong fingers still pushing bruises into your skin, he presses you against the cold wall, his hips and legs pushing against you until your shaking legs step apart enough for his liking, and his body is flush against yours.

Your lips follow his as much as they can, before you notice that he’s sinking down to your neck, his knees bending slightly as he goes. His hands begin to start to move as well when he’s returned to licking and biting bruises against your throat, and its seconds before his cold fingers are brushing against the skin of your stomach.

His blunt nails scrape at the skin of your sternum and the swell of your chest as his lips slide across your skin until he’s nipping at your collarbones. It’s not until one hand slips under the thin material of your bralette with his fingers gently tugging on your nipple, does he finally land on his knees in front of you.

Having him move out of your immediate field of vision throws you off for a moment. The still breathing bodies that fill the room in front of you dance around you, but no one comes closer than a few feet from where he kneels on the dirty floor.

Being reminded that its not just the two of you makes you freeze, the feeling of the hand that doesn’t grope at your chest moving to lift your skirt goes almost completely unnoticed until you feel his mouth take over the garment's job of covering you.

Your fingers flex and tug at his hair when you feel his lips brush against the band of your underwear, and a quiet gasp escapes you when he teeth tugs on the elastic.

“You said don’t stop,” he reminds, muffled just barely loud enough for you to hear, before he lets go of your skirt and the fabric falls over his head and blocks his next moves from your eyes.

You feel his newly freed hand move steadily up your thigh, his fingers brushing against and tickling the sensitive skin as he goes. Once he brushes the hem of the garment, his index finger pushes under and brushes against your buzzing skin as he loops the digit around the crotch of your under to pull it away from your body.

With a harsh pull, he starts to tug your underwear down your legs, his mouth immediately takes advantage of the exposed surface and latches onto a patch of skin on your hip that’s still slightly dimpled from the biting elastic of your underwear.

Once your underwear is pooled around your ankles, his hand retraces its movements back up your thigh, and this time your body shivers at the now familiar feeling. You still groan when his fingers harshly wrap around your thigh, his palm flexing as well as he tugs your leg up and over his shoulder.

His hand shifts until his grip holds you tightly against his face, and his other hand slips down from your chest to press slightly against your stomach. Even though you’re aware enough to know what’s about to happen between the two of you, that does nothing to stop the quick yelping noise that jumps from your chest when his tongue swipes warm and flat against your skin, the tip of the muscle curling at the last moment to flick against your clit and make your hips jump into his grinning face.

He doesn’t leave you a second to adjust to the feeling of his tongue licking into you before he’s going back in. This time when he returns to your skin, his tongue dips shallowly into you, greedily licking up the arousal that spills from your body as he tries to spread the taste of your over every last one of his taste buds.

Your knees tremble and you slip a few inches lower against the wall as your head tilts back. Your heart thumps harshly at the small amount of panic that fills you at the idea of falling into the floor, but the pleasure he pushes into you and your mind scrambling to remember the hold he has on you relaxes you.

He finally moves his tongue away from where you flutter around nothing, his pace slow and maddening as you let your body go lax in his hands and use the study support of his shoulder.

Your eyes shut tightly and your muscles flex for a moment when his lips take hold of your neglected clit, the quick intake of air you pull into your lungs, immediately escapes again in a soft moan.

He uses the way you rest against his shoulder and the wall as a reassurance as he moves his hand away from your thigh to replace the open space his tongue left with his fingers.

You feel two of his long digits press into you slowly, the sudden intrusion making you dizzy and a happy noise that resembles a purr rolls from your chest.

The man kneeled between your thighs finally responds to the small noises you make for him with his own, a proud and content hum crawls out of his lips and against your skin as his tongue repeatedly laps at your clit.

He’s eager, almost like he’s been waiting to show you what his mouth can do his whole life, and as your leg curls around his back and pulls him closer to your lower half, his fingers begin to steadily pump in and out of you.

He takes the moment that his tongue and lips wrap fully around your clit to suck harshly at the bundle of nerves, to curl the tips of his finger to press into the spot that makes stars burst from under your eyelids.

You scramble to find a way to warn him of the knot that forms directly under the hand that pushes against your lower belly, the lack of knowledge you have of his name almost making you want to huff in frustration. But when he starts to massage quick come hither motions against the spot that has you in spirals, you’re gone before you can conjure any cohesive thought.

Your hips stutter against his relentless mouth as you come with a desperate whine. One of your hands leaves his hair as it flies to push against the wall next to your head, your nails digging harshly into the painted brick as he doesn’t let up on licking your through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

You’re once again thankful of the tight hold he has on you as you twitch in his hands, his wandering fingers moving back to gripping your hip so his tongue can replace them to devour you.

He moves so quickly to stand when he’s finished licking you clean that you swear you almost get whiplash, and you only get more flustered by his motions when he uses his grip on your sides to spin you around and push your chest into the wall.

“Do you know how pretty you are,” his soft cooing throws you for a loop, but only helps in the neediness you feel for him regardless of your still retreating orgasm. His lips return to press softly to the bone of your jaw and one of his hands slips back in between your thighs to roll the tip of his middle finger softly against your sensitive clit while the other moves away from your skin. The way the fabric of his pants brush against you when he unbuttons them tells you he uses the missing hand to pull himself from his underwear.

You’re proven right, when you feel the end of him nudge the back of your thigh, the precome that drips from his tip smears against your skin and makes you squirm.

“Do you have any idea,” he starts as he moves himself towards the inside of your thigh, until he pushes himself against your wetness, “how long I’ve waited for you?”

“Hmm?” You hum in confusion at his question, but when he begins to push inside you, you quickly chalk it up to him being in the moment and press your cheek against the wall.

You melt into the hard brick as he sinks into you, every inch of him stretching you and pushing against every nerve that makes hums of contentment warm your chest. He moves slowly and with his fingers still playing with you, you feel yourself get dizzy as your eyes flutter and roll.

Once he’s fully seated inside of you, he leans into you, his heated chest straightening out your spine that was curving in pleasure. His now freed hand reaches around, his fingers spreading far against your burning chest, and you feel yourself start to float away from your body when he rolls his hips at the same moment his hand wraps around your throat.

“So good for me aren’t you?” He asks quietly in your ear as he begins to move, his lips brushing your ear easily from the way you tilt your head back to lay on his shoulder. You can only gasp and whimper in response as his thumb harshly digs into your skin below the curved bone of your jaw, but the way your jaw hangs open lets him hear every noise without problem.

A deep groan rattles his chest against your back as he picks up his pace, how deep he pushes inside you with each thrust and the pressure he puts on the blood flow going to your head makes your vision fuzzy.

You can feel your body twitching, but there’s nothing you can do to relax the tensing of your muscles. Your hands start to flail slightly from the pleasure shooting up your spine, one desperately slipping up and down the wall as you try to keep balance, and the other finally finding comfort in holding onto the wrist of the hand that chokes you. You get just a moment of clarity to notice, and feel bad for the way your nails claw into his skin, but the guilt is quickly washed away by the twisting in your belly.

He shows little interest in easing up on you, even when he notices how you start to crumble against him. Almost no interest at all, when he celebrates hitting the spot inside you that finally pushes a loud moan from your lips by relentlessly quickening the pace of his fingers that moves across your clit.

Jumbled moans and slurred words squeeze through your gritting teeth, not even taking the time to be molded into full thoughts in your brain before they pour out. You say a silent thanks when you feel his hand tracing up your neck towards your mouth, assuming he’s going to cover your mouth, as you can only feel yourself start to truly lose the control you have over your volume.

You’re teetering on an edge, the promise of another orgasm dancing on the back of your tongue, and your hips form a mind of their own as they begin to jump and tilt back towards him in desperation. You can’t imagine anything pushing you any closer than what he’s already doing, until you feel his thumb start to push against your lower lip.

It’s almost as if he has you on puppet string with how quickly you move to bring the digit between your lips, your cheeks pulling in and hollowing as you start to gently suck on the intrusion. The pride you feel when he swears darkly in your ear at your action is indescribable, the idea of you causing this man to lose himself the way he is, even with yourself being in more of a submissive position, makes you grin around his thumb as it digs into the center of your tongue. And the feeling of your drool slowly dripping out of your mouth to slide down his wrist makes you feel like you’ve made some kind of claim on him.

Your arousal, and the beginning sparks of your orgasm, fogs your brain. Enough that it takes a moment for you to notice the small bites of pain that shoots across the skin of your tongue that presses against a thick ring he wears below the bend of his thumb.

You want to whimper out, maybe nip at oddly strong digit to ask him to lighten up, but you shamefully admit that the burn and the coppery taste that begins to flood your tastebuds makes you shiver and flutter around his length as it pushes you both closer and closer.

Once your blood is spilling out enough that it begins to slip down your throat, is when he pulls his thumb from your mouth, his hand moves to grip your jaw tightly. You feel your saliva that’s been tainted with your blood spill quickly down your chin and neck as he turns you to face him, and the delirious and rapid look in his eyes when they meet yours tells you he loves the mess he’s made of you.

“Come for me,” it’s said sternly. Demanding in the way that tells you there’s no room for arguments, or pleas to slow down, but you greet the command with pleasure. You’re also just as glad to accept his open mouth as it presses against yours.

Nothing about him slows down. His hips, fingers and lips devour you like he’s been starved for centuries, and you start to feel that maybe you’ve been waiting just as long.

You squeak and groan when he sucks your wounded tongue into his mouth, and when it hits you that he’s pulling and swallowing the blood that pours out of it, is when you're pushed over the edge.

You’re more than thankful for the way he presses against you, as you’re sure without it you would have crumbled in place. Your knees feel useless and you whine into his open mouth the best you can with your tongue trapped between his lips, and you feel your body curl back against him as he holds you close. The way you tremble only comparable to a body trapped and lost in a blinding cold, and your stomach flexes in pleasure.

You want your body to mesh into his as you come in his hold, his arms strong and pulled tightly against your bones as his hips stutter against you. And it’s only a moment of watching you melt into him before he’s following close behind.

The way the evidence of his orgasm spills into you is what finally pulls him away from your lips as he almost growls with his forehead pressed against your temple. His body taking control of his impulse as his brain is taken over with the way you’re wrapped around him, and almost like a reflex, his hand pulls away from your clit to swat harshly at the inside of your thigh. But the way his teeth bite into his lower lip and he’s eyes scrunch closed, you can only offer a dopey smile in response.

Your smile falls slightly as you cringe at the feeling of him slipping from your body, but his hands moving to rub up and down your sides momentarily makes you relax.

He’s quiet and quick as he bends to drag your underwear up until they’re back to resting on your hips, and you pray they do enough to keep his come from spilling out of you.

“You need to get back to your friends,” he breaks his quiet spell as he turns you to pull you into his chest, and you have a small moment of confusion at his words before it hits you what you were trying to do when you ran into him.

Your hands fly up to clench at his shirt, your curls fingers wrinkling the fabric of his shirt and the sudden puppy like look you give him makes him smile.

“I can't wait to see you again,” the sureness in his voice shakes your core a little, and you can only hope what he says is true, “I promise I won't be hard to find.”

“Can you at least tell me your name,” you say more petulantly than you intended, but you're greeted with his grinning sharp teeth as he starts to pull you away from his chest regardless.

“I’m Jaehyun,” he speaks slowly as he makes sure you’re completely steady on your feet before he starts to step away, “I promise you won’t forget. Now go, the entrance should be there just like normal.”

He nods as he finally disappears into the crowd, but you can’t help the biting voice at the back of your mind that, even though he only gave you a few short sentences, he always spoke like he knew something you didn’t.

But he was right. You took your chance with the entrance again after his confident tone, pushing through the crowd of pushy shoulders to get back to the front. The only disappointment that rests in your chest when you reach the now visible door, is you didn’t get a glance of the man amongst the crowd.

It’s almost like culture shock when you step outside. The men that lean against the wall by the door remain rooted in place, their thumbs still swiping aimlessly at their phone screens, and the shadowy outlines of your friends still stand on the other side of the street.

Even with a looseness to your muscles from what happened in the club, you still feel foolish as you sprint to where they stand, and the looks of surprise they wear makes an apologetic smile stitch onto your face.

“So how was it?” The more gentle of the two asks, a concerned glint in her eyes making you feel even more guilt on what you let distract you.

“It was pretty cool,” you hesitate telling them what had happened, you’re not sure why as you knew they would never judge you for the hookup but you can't conjure the words, “I’m sorry I was in there for so long though.”

“So long?” Your more fiery friend takes her turn to speak now, but your face only screws up in confusion at her questioning words, “dude you were only in there for like five minutes top. Were you even able to get to the bar to get a drink in that time?”

You can't collect your thoughts enough to force words, instead you fumble over syllables and rumbling noises of misunderstanding what she’s saying. You’re almost ready to ask her how something that felt like years to you only felt like five minutes to her when she interrupts again.

“Whatever. It could have been five seconds and I still would be bored so lets fucking go,” she turns to walk away, her hand reaching back and lacing her fingers through your own being the only thing that pulls you along behind them as the feeling of Jaehyun’s finger prints weighs you down, and tugs at the cord that connects you to the club behind you.

[cheeriecherry]

Can I request bakugo, kirishima and shoji with a reader who has adhd? It's totally fine if u can't, but I love seeing hcs about stims and stuff,, thank u :) !

//raises hand// u mean me <:3c I have adhd so prepare for a lot of uhhhhh habits that I have-

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

-This guy knows fuckall about ADHD lbr

-He’s the guy who can sit down and study and stay focused, who keeps a regular sleep schedule, who sits still in class (for the most part). Sure, he’s shouty, but he’s not got a clue about what you deal with.

-Before he really gets to know you, he thinks you’re a pain in the ass ngl. Like, why can’t you study, it’s not that hard? What do you mean you didn’t go to bed until 3am because falling asleep is ‘boring’? Sorry when was the last time you showered - what do you mean you thought you already did it?!

-It’s probably frustrating to deal with his remarks. Like, he’s judging you for something that’s out of your control.

-It’s best to just lay it out flat for him; call him out for being an asshole. Not only because he’s just being rude, but because he’s being rude about things that are out of your hands.

-He’ll feel guilty about it, but he won’t say anything. Which kind of sucks, because an apology would be nice but...be patient with him also, he’s still learning.

-He would probably take it upon himself to learn what the heck adhd even is, and how it affects people. And what kinds of things you can do to help with it!

-He’d be quieter around you after that, and more lenient. He’d still help you study, but he’d be less gung-ho about shoving your face in a book. Sometimes he’ll read the paragraphs to you while you follow along or make notes, and he’ll help you make summary pages that are organised and colour coded for easy access.

-He finds a neat little fidget toy online and orders one for you, it’s like. A little cube with buttons and switches and little rolly things on each side, very good for when you’re in class and your leg is bouncing and you’re twirling your pen around while staring at the ceiling.

-He definitely can relate to the emotional side of adhd tho. Feeling Everything or Nothing, not really being able to control or get a handle on intense emotions, having outbursts sometimes. He doesn’t really know how to help you with that, because he is, in fact, a loud boi. It’s probably pretty common that you’ll yell something and he’ll yell back, but it devolves into a basic conversation at a high volume.

-Once he gets to know you and starts dating you, he’ll think your mannerisms are cute. The way you sway back and forth while you’re standing, the little wiggly thing you do with your hands when you’re excited for something.

-He also really likes watching you train, and training with you. Your brain goes fast and the rest of you follows, so it’s pretty common for you to lay waste to your opponents. When you don’t doubt yourself, your instinct shines through and you’re incredibly clever.

-It carries over to conversations sometimes, where you’ll always have some quick remark to smack somebody with when they talk shit.

-He’s seen the downsides of adhd, but he also sees the kind of pros it can have, and he sees how hard you work to get things done in spite of it. He thinks you’re pretty cool.

KIRISHIMA EIJIROU

-He also doesn’t know what adhd, not really.

-He’s heard of it, but only the stereotypes. The ‘can’t sit still, always talking, not very smart’ stereotypes. So he probably sees your behaviours and doesn’t connect the dots.

-He notices you staring out the window a lot in class, and not really giving much to group conversation. Plus you sometimes need people to repeat things, two or three or four times, before it clicks with you. He doesn’t think you’re dumb, not at all (he’s seen your grades and you’re definitely not dumb) but he does wonder what’s up with you.

-He’ll probably ask you one day, after seeing you watching a movie with subtitles on, despite it being in your native language. Just be honest with him and tell him that yeah, you have adhd.

-He’ll probably be the guy to say ‘but you dont act like you have adhd’ because all he has to go off of are stereotypes. It’s important to set him straight. Tell him what it’s really like, the good parts, the bad parts, the ugly parts.

-The ‘not being able to tidy anything up because the stars aren’t in alignment’ parts. The ‘everything looks horribly disorganized but you know where everything is’ parts. The ‘I haven’t brushed my teeth in three days because I lost track of time’ parts.

-He already thought pretty good of your before, but now that he knows you really have to fight to be where you are, he’s in awe. You’re such a strong person, which he really admires.

-If you do something that’s ‘weird’ he’ll ask you to explain it. He’s honestly just curious, and wants to learn more about you and what drives you, so don’t be offended by it.

-But he’ll definitely like the fidget toys you have, particularly the squishy or stretch ones. And he finds that your study tricks really help him in terms of paying attention, and he’s able to absorb the material better. You guys always make sure to create study sheets together that are laid out well and easy to access.

-He also really like the energy you have during training, and often seeks you out to partner up. Whereas sitting in a classroom isn’t your strong suit, being out on the field and moving around is. You’re got a quick wit and a smart brain, and when you’re using your body at the same time, it’s easier to keep track of your thoughts and put them into action.

-10/10 loves the shit out of you and lowkey brags to everyone about how good his S/O is.

SHOJI MEZO

-The quietest and most understanding of the bunch.

-He -like the others- probably also doesn’t know much about adhd, but he’s far more relaxed about it when you tell him. He’s kind of just like ‘oh, okay’ and it doesn’t change his opinion of you.

-But when he sees how it really affects you, that’s when he starts to think differently. 

-He’s not a bad student in terms of grades. he’s pretty mediocre, both in hero training and classes, and he’s okay with it. But he sees how much you bust your ass just to be where you are, and he’s certainly not envious.

-When you tell him what other kinds of fun things you have to deal with, he probably feels a little bad for you at first. He’s already self conscious about himself, so if he had to go through the things you do, his self esteem would probably be pretty low.

-but he really respects that you’re owning your adhd, and working with it instead of trying to ignore it and make it go away. 

-Plus, with cons come pros, and you have so many of them. It can be hard to get into things sometimes, but once you do? He’s seen the way you get when you hyperfocus, and the amount you can achieve when you’re in that state. He’s learned not to bother you until you’re done whatever you’re doing when you’re focused, knowing that once you lose it, it’s gone and you’ll never get it back.

-And the way you enthuse about your interests is adorable. he admire you passion and knowledge about certain subjects, and the lengths you’re willing to go to in order to learn about them.

-He doesn’t usually like being your partner during training, mostly because you kick his ass using sped and intelligence alone. Plus your stamina and unwillingness to stay knocked down is...something. Something real good.

-He definitely sees the appeal of fidget toys. After he tries yours, he’ll probably get one for himself, and keep it in his off hand while he’s working. I mean, six arms, y’know? That’s like four more arms to not be busy with when he’s working, and four more arms of sensory input. Having something to fiddle with actually helps his concentration too.

-Speaking of sensory input, this guy gives the best hugs when you’re overstimulated by something. A good squeeze calms down the sympathetic nervous system, and he’s hands down the best at hugs. He holds you tightly and blocks out whatever light and noise that he can, until you’ve calmed down and are more equipped to deal with things.

-You two mesh pretty well together, and there’s a lot he can learn from you. He respects you and cares about you!

[shade-romeo]

It seems I'm in a mood tonight lads.

Roman sat on Logan's bed, watching him walk back and forth from his desk to the pinboard on the other side of the room, hanging up different papers and pictures.

The two sides had been dating for a good while now, but Logan had requested that they kept it secret until he was ready to tell the others. Roman, wanting Logan to be comfortable, agreed.

So now, the two were peacefully hanging out in Logan's room, keeping idle conversation as Logan worked.

"..Roman?" Said side perked up, seeing Logan standing in the middle of the room, a paper in hand as he looked at him. "Are you alright?"

"Uh, yeah. Sorry, just got lost in my thoughts." Roman smiled sheepishly, as Logan smiled a bit and shook his head fondly, going over to pin up the paper in his hand.

"...Hey Logan?"

"Yes?" Logan acknowledged as he stepped back to look over his pin board.

"..Why can't we sit closer during meals and stuff?" Logan sighed heavily as Roman scrambled to elaborate, "Cuz, well, I just wanted to be closer to you, cuz we hardly get any time to actually be romantic, and cuddle and stuff, so-"

"Roman." The prince went silent, as Logan turned to look at him. "I love you, and I do wish we could have more time together like this, but I do not want to risk Patton finding out about our relationship."

"..You mean Patton and Virgil."

"Hm? No, I don't care if Virgil finds out." Logan hummed. Roman tilted his head, confused.

"..Well, why is Patton finding out a bad thing?" Roman asked.

Logan sighed, moving over to sit down on the edge of the bed. "Because Patton has a tendency to.. tease. He likes to.. basically make fun of me, for having feelings. And if he found out we were dating, that would increase tenfold."

Roman blinked, taken aback, "Wh.. Patton would never do that! He's the nicest person ever!"

Logan shook his head, "Of course you would believe that."

Roman made a little offended noise, "And what does that mean?"

"Patton has trained you to believe he can do no harm." Logan elaborated.

"Trained?!"

"Yes Roman. Listen, I mean no harm when saying this, but, you are Patton's figurative 'Lapdog' " Logan explained, causing Roman to sit up and cross his arms.

"I am not his lap dog! I am a prince!"

Logan rolled his eyes, "And tell me, when was the last time you did anything without getting permission from Patton?"

Roman floundered for a few second. "W..Well I started dating you without permission!"

"Yes, but as soon as it was official you insisted on telling Patton about it, and wouldn't drop it until I forced you to stop and listen to me." Roman stood up off the bed, standing in a way that obviously portrayed how defensive he was getting.

"Yeah-! Well-! I.. I'm- ...I'm my own side! And I can make my own decisions!" He exclaimed, and started to stomp out of the room, "You're wrong, and I'll prove it to you!" He finished with a glare, before slamming the door shut.

Roman huffed, and started heading to the kitchen, thoughts running wild.

He wasn't a stupid lapdog! He was a valiant prince, and a brave knight! He could make his own decisions, and he could certainly stand up to anyone, including-

"Patton!" Roman yelped, turning around quick to see Patton standing in the doorway to the kitchen, hands on his hips and a stern look on his face.

"Kiddo, what are you doing?" He asked, eyeing Roman in a way that made him feel tiny and vulnerable.

"I was just going to make myself a snack-"

"Kiddo, you know it's almost dinner time. And you shouldn't be eating anything before dinner, it'll ruin your appetite." Patton reprimanded.

Roman found himself starting to apologize, before remembering the conversation with Logan.

"Well.. It'll be fine. Dinner is still a half hour away, and it's just half a sandwich, I'll still eat-"

"Roman." That shut him up in an instant, "Put the food back. You know the rules."

Roman did indeed put the food back, and left with an apology, followed by a cheery goodbye from Patton.

As Roman made his way back to his room, he replayed what had happened over and over.

He.. he wasn't a lapdog! He was just.. just.. taking Patton's advice! Yeah! Patton just didn't want him to not eat, and was looking out for him! Yep!

Once he had convinced himself of this, he sat down at his desk, and started to draw, trying to think about something else.

From then on, he was hyperanalyazing every interaction he had with Patton, and he always came up with new excuses as to why he gave in to Patton so easily. And he refused to speak with Logan again until he had enough proof to show him that he was not Patton's little lapdog.

And it happened that way for a while, at least until.. the wedding.

Roman rose up into his room, tears forming in his eyes immediately. He sank to the floor, and let out a sob, curling up into himself as he cried. Oh god- Logan was right- he was right- he really was just Patton's little toy! Just something to play with and maneuver around until he was no longer relevant.

And it seems like his warranty has expired.

Roman sniffed and wiped his face as best he could, biting back any noises that might slip out as he rose up in front of Logan's door, and knocked.

He was right. He was right, and Roman yelled at him for it. He needed to-

"Ah, so all of a sudden you want my input? How convenient." Logan's voice came from inside.

..oh god. Logan was upset too, holy shit how could he overlook that?! He was ignored most of the time, and then Patton fucking skipped him, followed immediately by Janus taking his place- of course he would be angry. Why would he want to see Roman after he contributed to ignoring him?!

There were footsteps coming towards the door, and Roman panicked, sinking out just before Logan could open the door.

And when he rose up, guess which puppeteer was standing in the middle of his room.

"Roman, kiddo! Oh my gosh, you look terrible!" Patton exclaimed, rushing forward to try and cup his face.

Roman squeaked and ducked out of the way, staring at Patton with wide, untrusting eyes.

"Kiddo..?"

"Don't call me that. Get out." Roman glared, trying to force down tears.

Patton frowned, giving Roman puppy eyes, "Ro.. cmon, forgive me? I just wanna help you."

Roman almost did. Almost.

He glared harshly, baring his teeth. "You don't wanna help me! You just want me to smile and force myself to be happy, so you don't feel guilty!"

"Now that isn't tru-"

"Yes it is! Every time you comfort me it's always, 'Oh kiddo, I hate it when you're like this' and 'Gosh, it just hurts so much to see you like this.' Not once have you ever actually tried to comfort me! You're just getting me to force my feelings down so that I look happy, just like a pretty little decorational peice should!"

Patton was stunned silent.

"So why don't you just go and hang out with your new bestest friend! And fuck off!" And Roman forcefully sunk him out.

And then he collapsed, once again devolving into sobs.

He didn't know how long he sat there, sobbing loudly, before his door opened and there was another person sitting down next to him.

"May I hold you?" Logan asked softly, and Roman immediately unfurled and practically jumped on Logan, burying his face in his chest and crying even harder.

Logan wrapped his arms around the smaller side, holding him close and resting his chin on his head.

Roman sobbed, and mumbled over and over, "I'm sorry- you were right- You're always right- I'm so stupid- you're right- I'm sorry-"

Logan gently shushed Roman, planting kisses on the top of his head. "It's okay, it's okay, shh."

It took a long while, but eventually Roman was calm, tiredly laying in Logan's arms.

"Are you alright darling?" Logan asked softly.

"No." Roman answered immediately. "..I'm sorry, for ignoring you during the video." Roman continued before Logan could intervene. "A..and you were right, I.. I really am just Patton's little play thing."

Logan shook his head, "No, no, shh. I appreciate the apology, but you are far from just play thing. I never said that was all you were, because that would be a major falsehood. You mean so much to me, and it is not your fault that Patton is a manipulator."

Roman was silent as tears started to come up again. And Logan sat there with him as they did so, holding him and being there for him, when his so called "Padre" hadn't.

They had each other, and didn't need anyone else.

But maybe.. maybe a friend wouldn't be so bad..

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Can we pleaaaaaase have some chris freakout and kauri looking after him? Like maybe the first time chris ever really has a meltdown near kauri and kauri helps him or just freaks out himself just ahhhh i love these two

CW: Description of gunshot, PTSD flashback to parental death, meltdown, panic attack, some references to conditioning/pet whump, negative stimming

It’s just some asshole kids playing with fireworks, that’s all. That’s all it is, and Kauri would have been more careful, but he hadn’t known there was anything he needed to be careful for. 

He’s sitting on the grass at a park sending Jake texts to distract him from studying, playing a game they do sometimes where they tell a story with emojis alone and then the other one records a voice-text trying to guess what the story is, and then the other one says how much they got right. 

He brought Chris here because he discovered this park has a whole wood-and-metal adult playground, with uneven bars like the ones in the videos of gymnasts Chris watches on Jake’s laptop sometimes, plus a climbing wall and all kinds of things.

Chris is swinging back and forth with an easy sort of confidence, smiling to himself and occasionally checking to see if Kauri is looking as he swings himself up and over the bar, seems to hang in the air for a second despite the pull of gravity, and then back down again.

Like a pendulum, Chris swings for momentum, and then he lets go and catches the next bar, laughing, throwing his boundless, endless energy into the movements his body knows even though his brain doesn’t, and Kauri takes a second to watch him switch directions and swing back up onto the higher bar, throwing himself full-throttle, and he’ll come home scraped up and probably bruised and Kauri will have to explain to Nat that it’s impossible to want to stop him when he’s like this, all his soft nervousness shed in the pursuit of something that makes him - simply, and uncomplicatedly - happy.

Especially when he’d started out so sad.

In the parking lot nearby, a bunch of teenagers not much younger than Chris have been fucking around with fireworks the whole time. Boys with knobby elbows and an awkward self-consciousness bragging about who does the stupidest things, girls with long legs and braces laughing together, shining hair mixing in red and brown and blond as they lean into each other. 

Chris looked at them, when they first showed up, eight people stuffed into somebody’s two-door sports car climbing out like clowns at a circus, and Kauri saw the look on his face and knew it for what it was, the longing for a life he can’t get back.

He’s just a kid, and these are just kids, but there’s an ocean between them that Chris can’t overcome.

Even though he looks like them, has the same awkward gait, the same way of hunching his shoulders as if trying to be invisible, the same heavy, woe-is-me sighs and eye-rolls when he feels safe enough to push back at Nat and Jake like any other kid would... even though he looks like them, he isn’t them. 

He’s a teenager, and he has more in common with Kauri than he does anyone else. He and Kauri have a shared wealth of pain, and all he has in common with those kids now is that, once upon a time, he might have been like them.

But he wants to be like them still, it was written all over his face. 

Kauri hadn’t said anything. He’s not-... he’s not good at that, at bringing Chris out of himself. He’s not Jake, who Chris will rip himself open for, let out all his thoughts and let Jake rearrange the jumbled parts.

He’s not Nat, who can simply sense Chris’s need for a mother and give him one.

He’s not even Antoni, who can show his care somehow in simply the depth of feeling in his slightly narrowed eyes, the well of emotion he keeps there, that he doesn’t have to speak to show. 

He’s just Kauri.

He’s just here.

So he just let Chris have his moment, watched the wistfulness work itself across his expression, his soft slight rocking, listened to his low quiet hum. 

Kauri watched Chris make himself be silent, and go still, until the desire to fit in passed. He should have had an answer, some ready-made platitude or piece of comfort, but he didn’t. 

After a moment - two moments - three... Chris turned and went to the exercise equipment. It had taken a while, but he lost himself, eventually, in the movement, the swing of his body from one space to another, the strain of muscles pushed to their limits in ways he still loves.

Kauri watched him forget, after a while, and find happiness in what his body could do instead of what his brain can’t.

The kids had brought out fireworks from the trunk of the car, and Chris’s climb up a fake rock wall had a soundtrack of hissing and fizzing and pops. 

They must have pulled out the big stuff, eventually. 

Kauri’s lost in grinning as he looks at a return text from Jake when there’s suddenly a sharp, deafening crack in the air that makes Kauri jump nearly three feet, scrambling onto his feet out of sheer surprise.

He doesn’t hear the thump as Chris, mid-swing from one bar to another, tenses, misses the catch, and hits the ground flat on his back.

The teenagers cheer, clapping each other on the back, yelling fuck yeah do it again, and as Kauri catches his breath a second one goes off, a third, a fourth. They’re too close together, and there are people yelling at them to cut that shit out.

The kids laugh and shout and flip off the adults telling them to stop, emboldened by the adrenaline rush, by the sheer number of them, by the way a few other people are cheering happily, too.

Kauri’s heart races for reasons he can’t fathom and he snaps, “What the fuck, at least warn us, you little shits!”

“Fuck off!” A boy yells back, but he’s not the one who catches Kauri’s eye. One of the girls off to the side isn’t smiling anymore, but staring outright behind Kauri, eyes widening, and it’s not at the fireworks.

Another one goes off, the crack making Kauri’s ears ring all over again, but this time he hears the sound of a high-pitched cry of fear behind him and recognizes the voice.

Chris.

“Oh, shit,” The girl says, and it’s her voice that kills the sharp laughter of the boys, who look even as Kauri turns to see for himself. 

Chris, lying on his back on the ground, gasps for air that he can’t pull into his lungs, his hands up to his throat as if clawing at-

At his collar-

Kauri isn’t anything big - he’s not Jake, the hero who can hold off the terror of the light with the sheer size of his body, who will come home with a black eye and a broken rib and carry Chris up the stairs anyway. He’s not Nat with her hugs and blankets and ready dark spaces. He’s not Antoni, he’s not Leila he’s not Krista he’s not anything but Kauri, who can’t do anything, who breaks all his promises who can’t be trusted to be where he says he’ll be who isn’t a good person who isn’t trained for this-

Nobody is trained for this, Kauri hears Nat say inside his mind. She wasn’t talking about Chris, then, but-

Nobody has a map for how to walk out of hell, Kauri. But you’ve still got your compass. Go north.

He runs for Chris even as he hears other people start to notice, as Chris finally pulls in air and rolls onto his stomach, curling into a ball, hands over his head, as the first croaking breaths become louder and louder moans, rocking back and forth on the ground.

On more of the fireworks goes off and Chris screams, clapping his hands over his ears.

“Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit-” One of the teenagers says from behind Kauri, but he doesn’t even bother to tell them to go fuck themselves, he just drops to his knees next to Chris and puts a hand to his back. “Oh shit somebody’s gonna call the cops, what’s the fuck is wrong with-”

“I don’t know!”

“‘m sorry, I’m, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sorry sorry sorry sorry, I’m, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t, I moved, I, I, I I I-I, I moved, I moved, moved, shouldn’t move, no, no no no, no, no, no...” Chris’s voice is barely his own, it’s higher and lower at once, alternating between crying and the low moans, and he shudders at Kauri’s hand but doesn’t pull away. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sorry, I’m, I’m I’m-I’m, I didn’t-”

“It’s okay, Chris,” Kauri whispers, but Chris doesn’t seem to hear him or react. The back of his shirt is layered with dirt over the black fabric, and it comes off on Kauri’s hand as he rubs frantic circles there, not knowing what to do, how to pull him out of himself. “You’re all right, nothing to be sorry for, come on, let’s, let’s get up-”

“Hey, is he, uh, he gonna be okay?” One of the teenagers has nervously edged up next to him, a boy with scraped up knees and long stringy hair. “We didn’t-... we were just screwin’ around, we didn’t think-”

“No, you sure fucking didn’t think, did you?” Kauri snaps, and the boy flinches back from the violent anger in his voice. Kauri doesn’t do angry, he’s scared of angry, but it bubbles up inside of him and he can’t stop it. “Did you think for a fucking second that you’re not the only assholes in the world? Huh?”

“Woah, um, we’re-... we’re sorry, dude, but-”

Chris groans and bangs his head into the ground, smacking his hands palms-down into the earth beneath him, wailing and Kauri has never heard him sound like this before. The words he was stammering before have somehow devolved entirely into the sounds, and Kauri’s heart pounds as he watches Chris pull so far into himself in fear that he has no idea how to get him out.

“Is he-... is he okay, or-”

“Does he fucking look okay?!” Kauri’s voice is so loud he’s suddenly scared of himself, and fights the urge to soothe, calm, appease, apologize, moving to get ahold of Chris’s hands as he pulls at his hair, holding them tightly, feeling the way Chris’s hands shake under his grip, trembling long fingers.

“Sorry,” The kid mumbles, and backs away to his friends, but one of the girls hasn’t run but come closer, and Kauri looks up to see there are people staring at them, men and women watching them, and Kauri-

He should run.

He should leave Chris here and run, this is a risk, people might call the cops, the cops might unclip his bracelet, he might get turned in. He should leave Chris here and call Jake to come get him and hide, and get away, and keep himself safe, and-

He tightens his grip on Chris’s hands and fights his own rising panic as hard as he can.

“Can I-... can I do anything to help?” The girl asks, leaning over with his hands on her knees, watching them. “To help him?”

“I don’t-... I don’t know,” Kauri answers, helplessly. “He’s never done this with me before. I don’t know what to do.” 

Chris rocks back and forth, not pulling away from Kauri’s grip, and looks up. His forehead is smeared with dirt from banging his head on the ground and his eyes are full of tears and fear and guilt. “No,” He moans, closing them again, tears cutting tracks through the dust and dirt on his cheeks. “No, no, no... no, no... no, no, no...”

“I’ll... I’ll get-... I’ll get a damp cloth or something,” The girl says, hesitantly. Her friends are loading back into the car in a hurry, and they call out to her but she ignores them, her own jaw set, running for some public bathrooms a hundred feet away and pulling her hoodie off as she goes.

The car full of kids pulls out, all but spinning their tires in their hurry to escape the consequences. But two others have stayed, one boy and one girl, and they move to Kauri’s side, too.

A man and woman who were walking their dog come over as well, and Kauri feels them pressing in on all sides, closing off his avenues of escape. He could still run. He could still go. He can still leave-

But he can’t leave Chris.

“The sound of the fireworks did that?” The man with the dog on a leash asks, and Kauri nods, not trusting himself to speak, letting go of Chris so he can take his face in his hands, and Chris looks at him but doesn’t see him. 

He’s not Jake. He’s not Nat. He can’t do this. He doesn’t know how to help anyone else, he can barely take care of himself, he doesn’t know anything and he’s the stupidest fucking person Chris could ever need help from-

You have to stop letting his voice sound like yours, Kauri.

“Chr-... Chris,” Kauri manages, his voice trembling. Anyone could call the cops of them, anyone could suspect. His body screams at him to run, to get away, to leave Chris, to go to find somewhere new to find somewhere safe to hide. It takes everything he has to stay right where he is, rubbing Chris’s cheekbones with his thumbs. “Chris, can you hear me?”

Chris, eyes still closed, leans into the touch of his hands, and it’s not an answer, but Kauri has to hope he’s trying. 

“Okay. We-... we need to get out of here, Chris, okay? I need-... I need to get out of here.”

No, this isn’t what will make Chris feel better. He can’t do this.

He has to do this.

“You’re okay. Um, um, can you-... can you open your eyes and look at me?”

There’s a long pause, and Chris’s coppery eyelashes rise, wide green eyes stare past Kauri with terror and only slowly seem to focus on him. “I’m, I’m so sorry,” He whispers, lips pulling back from his teeth, face reddened and dirty. “’m so, so, so so so so, so, so-... so, so sorry, so, so sorry-”

“Sssshhhhh, it’s okay. You’re all right. It was just some fireworks, it’s okay.” The girl reappears with the sleeve of her hoodie soaked with water from the water fountains, and Kauri takes it when she holds it out with a faint smile and uses the sleeve to wipe the dirt from Chris’s face, to cool the flush of his skin. “I know you’re scared. I’m going to call someone to come get us, all right?”

“No, no, no, no-no, no, no one’s, no one’s c-coming,” Chris whispers, whimpers really, and he moves forward to collapse against Kauri, rocking into him, burying his head into Kauri’s shoulder, the crook of his neck. “I, I, I waited all, all, all-all night, no one’s coming, no one, no one’s c-coming, nobody, no one, and they g-got-... so c-cold-...”

Kauri hitches in a breath and slides his arms around Chris, letting the girl take her hoodie back, aware - too aware - of the growing crowd around them. Chris’s words devolve again, fall apart into moaning sobs, tears soaking the fabric of Kauri’s t-shirt, his fingers twisting and clutching into the cotton, pulling, rocking, in constant motion even now in the guilt twisted up in his fear. 

“They, they got s-so cold,” Chris whispers, and Kauri looks slowly up at the man with the dog, who is staring wide-eyed down at them. “So, so, so, she got so, she got s-so cold-”

“Holy fuck,” The woman next to the man says. Her face is ash under her skin, gray around the edges.

Anyone could call the cops of them right now. He doesn’t know that they haven’t yet. Sirens could start any moment, or maybe WRU will just come themselves with a big white van and needles and it will all be over, everything he fought to build of himself, because of Chris.

No. That’s not fair.

He chooses to care, that’s what he does, that’s who Kauri is. He cares, and he... has to be stronger than he is scared.

Kauri steadies his voice, holding Chris as tightly at he can, trembling against him. “I need you to call a number for me,” He says, carefully. 

The man nods, pulling a cell phone out of his pocket. “Yeah, uh, sure. What’s-... what number-”

“Call...” Kauri closes his eyes. “Call 555-4467, and tell the person who answers that... that Kauri needs her here now. And... that it’s not for me.”

Jake’s too far away, an hour even by car from one side of the city to the other, and he doesn’t even have his own car, yet, he’s still saving. Nat’s too far away, the safehouse is a half-hour at least. The only person he can think of on this side of town...

She won’t help, she’d never, she’d-

Nat’s voice, in his mind, a memory of her calmly reminding him, you have a compass, Kauri, and it’s gotten you this far. What does your intuition tell you?

His experiences tell him to run and don’t look back.

His fear tells him she’ll hang up the phone.

His intuition tells him she’ll come.

The man nods and dials, and Kauri closes his eyes and holds Chris tightly, listens to his words, lets him wail into his shoulder as the man and woman warn everyone else away, the remaining teenagers get Chris drinks of water from the water fountain that he takes with only the barest sense that he even sees them there at all. 

It takes twelve minutes from when Jenna gets the call to when her car pulls up at the park.

She walks out to them, over the grass, and Kauri has himself tensed and ready for the latest barrage of loathing, but all Jenna says is, “Can you get him to stand up on his own?”

“I-I don’t know,” Kauri says, and slides his hands under Chris’s arms. Chris clutches him more tightly, shaking his head, refusing to let go, and Kauri takes a breath and slowly shifts back onto his heels, half-standing, half-pulling Chris up with him. The man with the dog rushes forward to help, and so does one of the teenagers. “He heard those really loud fireworks and just... lost his shit, I just-”

“Yeah,” Jenna says, voice flat and pointedly uncaring. She gets Chris’s other side once he’s up, and Kauri thanks the people who stayed with them, tells the teenagers he hopes they get home safe.

The girl who first saw Chris only shrugs. “Not a thing. I’ve got a phone and a mom, we’ll get home, she’ll come get us.”

Chris hiccups and whimpers, and Kauri and Jenna move him to Jenna’s car. They get Chris to lay down in the backseat with his head on Kauri’s lap, Kauri’s hand running through his hair. Kauri closes his eyes, and says, softly, “Listen, Jenna, I wouldn’t-... wouldn’t have called if-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jenna says, pulling away from the parking spot without looking in the rearview mirror, without looking to see Kauri in her backseat. 

“I... I really wouldn’t have called you but nobody else is on this side of town, and-”

“I said don’t worry about it.” Jenna rolls her eyes. “Back to Nat’s place? That’s where this kid is staying, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Chris sniffles against him, and Kauri shushes him softly, carding fingers gently through his sweaty hair. Jenna drives, taking the long way, the winding curves around the city to throw off anyone who might try to follow them. Kauri’s phone vibrates and he wonders, suddenly, how many texts Jake has sent that Kauri never answered. 

“So I guess you can be s-something other than a bitch when you want to be,” Kauri says, voice shaking, as close as he can get to a thank-you with her.

Jenna snorts, and briefly meets his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Bitches don’t get taken back,” She says, firmly. “We stay free. I’d rather be a bitch to Romantics than a pet, get it?”

“Got it,” Kauri says, but this is still probably the nicest she’s ever been to him, and he calls it a victory. “Why are you-... why did you agree to come?”

“Because of what that guy said. He mentioned it was fireworks. That’s why I’m here.”

Kauri’s eyebrows furrow. “Yeah... fireworks set him off. The big ones that crack really loud.”

Jenna is silent for a while, and then says softly, “Gunshots.”

“What?”

“There’s gunshots in that kid’s head. If he doesn’t remember them when he comes back, they’re from before, from whatever got him to sign himself up.”

“How do you know?”

Jenna makes a turn and drives over the big bridge through the center of the city, sunlight shining on water on either side, the swooping cables of the bridge making curving shadows inside the car. 

“Because,” She says, heavily, “There’s gunshots in my head, too.”

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary