#so i can go stretches of Weeks without talking to a single human being!!

[heartbreakgrill]

stiles stilinksi: breakable heaven; part 5, “i don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you.”

a/n: enjoy this bc it’s gonna be sad boi hours in the next part ;)

tagging: @ariianelle

the world shifted, just a little bit.

stiles and y/n found themselves spending a lot more time together. granted, that time was often under the sheets, in a locked car, or- just once- in the locker room after a game. nonetheless, the skin on skin contact always led to conversations, conversations that were deepening in content. they were getting to know each other, forming an attachment both swore would never even exist.

as the time passed, they each found solace in one another, a comfort, a sort of destressor that neither was able to substitute with anyone or anything else. neither were aware of this, but it was as present as the air.

y/n's parents were always out of town, and, while she didn’t have any doubts that they loved and supported her, they were absentee. they missed out on the everyday moments in her life. so, she was usually all by herself through it all. sure, danny came over every once and while, but there were still those periods of time where she was left, literally in the middle of nowhere, all alone. stiles was a warm body to sit next to, an attentive ear to listen to her troubles or woes, without judgement or expectations. he was just there. whenever she needed or wanted.

and, for stiles, y/n was just a human being. she didn't have claws, fangs, premonitions about his friends' deaths, or any other intense, supernatural features. this fact he was positive of since he’d had both scott and derek invade and smell her locker to ensure she was really a living, breathing, human girl.

with all he had to deal with, every single day, he was grateful to get to act like a normal teenage boy some days out of the week. laughing instead of fighting for his life, watching movies instead of drawing up investigation boards.

today was one of those bad days, for the both of them. a bad day where they just needed each other.

the number of killings in beacon hills was rising, rapidly, day by grueling day. and there wasn’t much stiles could do to help. he could ramble, on and on, about the mindless theories rattling around inside his head. he could tag along to random warehouses and parking lots, only to hide away once the real conflict began.

but, he was overall useless to the entire process.

it made his shoulders a little heavier some days, to know he had no control over anything anymore. scott could take away pain, lydia could help save somebody before they died, allison could shoot down three different wolves with the same arrow.

stiles could only talk.

today was one of those days where he just felt kind of shitty about it all.

dr. deaton was missing. and there wasn’t much of anything stiles could do to help. he felt like he always just got in the way.

y/n was in a similar boat.

her parents were out of town for the third week now. they’d promised to be home this past weekend, and had talked y/n up with a week full of dinners, family outings, a visit to her school, normal things that parents normally did with their normal children. of course, they’d cancelled on her last minute because of some conference across the world. she’d asked danny to come stay for the week, but he said he couldn’t. he was going out of town with ethan.

she felt abandoned.

usually, y/n would sulk, by herself, with take out, a round of depressing movies, and homework she didn’t really feel like doing. sometimes, she’d even beg her boss to let her come in for a shift.

but, it was saturday evening, so the staffing was already full for the rest of the night.

so, she texted stiles.

y/n: pls tell me ur bored

stiles: what time?

y/n: anytime :)

stiles: omw gorgeous

–

“alright, i’ve got it.”

stiles plopped down onto the couch beside y/n, bowl of popcorn in left hand, a can of dr. pepper in the right. he crossed his ankles and stretched his legs onto the coffee table. y/n sat criss-cross beside him and extended part of the blanket she wore onto his lap. stiles set the bowl down atop his covered thighs.

“oh, yeah, what’s that?” he asked, taking a sip of his drink.

y/n pointed to the television, and he followed her gaze. netflix was open on the bright screen, with a movie queued up. “the first scream.”

stiles nodded appreciatively, until she added, “aka, the best slasher film of all time.”

he squinted his face and shook his head rapidly, “i cannot believe you just said that!”

y/n giggled at his expression, “don’t even argue with me right now!”

“it’s hard not to argue with someone who is so blatantly wrong!” he replied.

y/n stole the popcorn from his lap, “thats not even a good counter. at least make a decent rebuttal!”

“okay,” he peered over at her with a matter-of-fact look, “halloween is the best slasher because;” he counted each point off on his fingers, it has a cooler villain, better kill sequences, and the hottest final girl.”

y/n rolled her eyes, and shoved his shoulder with her own, “you just like it cause of jamie lee curtis’ boob scene.”

stiles pursed his lips, “they are pretty great.”

“but they didn’t need to add nudity to that movie! that’s so sexist and gross to support that idea, you pig.”

stiles stole a handful of popcorn, shoveling it into his mouth. “what can i say, im a boob guy.”

if she didn’t know him so well, she’d think stiles, in this moment, was kinda gross. but, she recognized his humor better than most. she appreciated that it was sarcasm. and, he kinda looked cute with his cheeks full of popcorn.

y/n blushed at the comment, looking down slightly, “oh, i know.” boy, did she.

he tapped the edge of the bowl, garnering her attention again, “don’t do that.”

her brows furrowed, meeting his eyes, “do what?”

“don’t be dirty. i don’t think we’ll make it through the movie if you start acting up.” as his words drifted out, stiles’ tone of voice lowered. he leaned his head closer to hers and the corner of his lips turned up in a devilish smirk.

y/n grinned in response. she grabbed the back of his neck, smashing her lips into his, drawing a sharp breath off his tongue. stiles moaned into her, barely catching the popcorn before it could spill. his other hand clutched his dr. pepper, so he didn’t have much leverage against her advances.

stiles clambered around until he found the coffee table, shoving the popcorn bowl atop it. “wait, wait, wait-“ stiles gently grabbed her biceps, tugging her off of him delicately.

y/n’s face fell instantly. she cowered away, hugging herself with her arms. she thought that was what he wanted, but now it seemed he was mad. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry- i didn’t-“

“no, no, no,” stiles set a wary hand between them. “you didn’t do anything wrong. you’re okay, it’s okay.”

“i’m sorry,” she slouched, frowning. she relaxed a little bit, but the moment still worried her. “i thought that’s what you wanted?”

stiles shook his head and grabbed her hand, holding it between his like a prayer. “no, no- i mean- yes. i want you, i always- want you. but, i don’t- i don’t want you to feel pressured to do that all the time. i want to watch a movie with you. i like just hanging out, too. i don’t just expect sex out of you. that’s not all this is-“

stiles pressed his lips together. he always said too much.

always said too much.

y/n let out a breath she had been holding at the top of her chest. her mind raced with a thousand words she didn’t how to say.

this changed everything. the rules were blurred. the lines were crossed.

and it now seemed that, maybe, just maybe, he wanted her like she wanted him.

all she could say was, “okay.”

she didn’t want to rush things. she didn’t want to force him to label it. she didn’t want to get in over her head, throw her hopes up, and get let down again.

stiles’ worried expression fell into a gentle smile, “okay, hey, i’ll even let you think scream is the best slasher film, just for the night.”

an easy giggle fell out of her. “deal.”

stiles fixed the blanket across their laps that had fallen off slightly, while y/n tucked her legs up onto the seat, cozy against the back of the couch.

he stretched an arm across the back of her seat, inching over to her slyly. y/n bit back a smile and leaned into his side. stiles choked back a cough, a strangled attempt to clear his throat. he set his arm around her, fingers lingering over her shoulder.

the movie started.

it took them a few minutes to loosen after that moment. but, eventually, they fell back into their same routine- stiles made lame jokes, y/n nearly fell over laughing at all of them. he compared scream to halloween, calling out which parts would probably be better with a michael myers killer instead of ghost face. she argued back that he was a sore loser.

eventually, the movie was drawing to a close. the credit scene was just about to roll across the television screen when y/n’s phone started ringing from the coffee table. she jumped slightly, a little spooked from the movie, though she’d seen it a million times.

stiles tossed his head back, laughing over her fright. she shot him a dirty look as she reached for her phone. he took his arm off of her, but patted her thigh in a mocking manner. “don’t worry, i’ll protect you.”

y/n shoved his arm playfully, but her attention was drawn away by the contact showing up on her screen. ethan was calling her.

“give me a second,” she mumbled, leaving the room with confusion written all over face.

stiles watched her go, sitting forward on the couch. her distant tone worried him a moment. he pulled out his own phone, hoping for something from scott. updates, suspects, something. hoping the plague wasn’t going to reach her, too.

his screen was black.

stiles wanted to tell her about everything. maybe he should. it would explain his erratic, anxious, flakey behavior.

but, telling her would bring her into it.

and he didn’t know how well he could protect her.

so, the secret was just his for now.

stiles opened scott’s contact, ready to give him a quick call, just in case, when y/n reentered the room. “hey, everything okay?” he barely glanced up at her, but had to do a double take when he noticed how she looked.

y/n was shaking, visibly, clutching her phone in her right hand, which was still held up near her ear as though she was about to answer the phone again. a few tears escaped her eyes, and her pupils were dilated with fear and sadness.

“y/n?” stiles stood up, slowly, tone rattled.

had his troubles finally plagued her, too? was the one sacred, peaceful thing he had finally tainted by the cruelty of his reality? a million worried, terrified thoughts sped through his mind.

y/n met his eye, “danny’s in the hospital. he-he almost died. hi-his l-lung collapsed.”

stiles moved quickly. he carefully took her by the waist, guided her into a pair of shoes, into his jeep. he stayed attentive to her the entire car ride. he played her taylor swift, nearly sat at a 180° angle while he drove, kept a firm hand on her thigh, and spoke to her in a soothing tone. y/n was nearly mute. she didn’t know what to say or what to do. she was just too stunned.

it was always shocking to discover that death could just come knocking on the door whenever it felt like it.

when they finally reached the hospital, stiles opened the car door for her. she grabbed onto his hand, following him into the building.

no one was allowed to visit with danny, at least not until the morning. unfortunately, his parents were out of town, like y/n’s, and couldn’t get back until monday. so y/n and ethan were all danny had until then.

“so, he’s gonna be okay?” stiles scratched the back of his neck nervously, knee bouncing.

y/n sat beside him in a waiting room chair, clutching his other hand till her knuckles were white. they stared up at melissa, awaiting her answer.

melissa returned their stare them with a kind smile, “he’s gonna be just fine. we’re gonna keep him overnight, just to monitor him. but, he’ll be alright.”

y/n took a deep breath. her head fell back against the wall, eyes squeezing shut in relief. melissa nodded once, reassuring them again, before turning to leave. she squeezed stiles’ shoulder as she went.

stiles turned his body to y/n, taking her hand in both of his. she finally met his eye. he was glad to see hers, the storm within them more weathered now, calmer like the water right after a wave. he smiled slightly.

“hey,” he whispered.

y/n finally smiled back. “hey. i’m…sorry if i freaked you out. i don’t do well with near-death experiences. i’m kind of a pussy.”

she laughed at herself, head dropping down in shane. stiles disagreed quickly, “no, no, hey,” he pushed the hair from y/n’s cheek, cupped her face, guided her eyes back to his, “you’re not a pussy. you’re a human being. you were scared and worried for your friend. i’m not judging for how you reacted. i just want to know you’re okay.”

she nodded, “i’m okay. just- tired, now. that was overwhelming. sitting here for an hour, waiting to hear if my best friend was dead or not.”

stiles brushed his thumb over her cheek, “i know, baby, i know.”

the word slipped so easily off his tongue, that he didn’t notice. y/n did, but she wouldn’t allow herself to get bent out shape over it. there was no time for that right now.

“i’m gonna stay here with him tonight.”

stiles moved his hand back to their entwined ones, “i’ll wait with you.”

y/n shook her head in disagreement, “i can’t ask that-“

“you didn’t ask,” he interrupted her, pointedly.

y/n went to say something else when scott disrupted their moment. he came out of danny’s room, nearly appearing out of thin air. stiles could tell he was on edge.

“stiles, hey, i was just about to call you,” he said, glancing between the both of them. “sorry about danny, y/n.”

“thanks,” she smiled slightly, though she was confused. “how did you get in to see-“

“stiles,” scott pretended to not hear her, turning his attention to his friend, “we need to talk.”

stiles patted y/n’s hand gently, “i’ll be right back, okay?”

he stood to leave her, but she didn’t let go of his hand. she held on until he was too far to reach. before he followed scott down the hall, however, he turned back, shrugging off his jacket.

“i know you’re gonna need this,” he murmured, tucking it around her shoulders.

y/n watched him walk away with scott, a dazed smile on her face.

things might be working out.

–

stiles had to leave. at least, scott needed stiles to leave. derek, isaac, boyd, and cora were planning a trap or something of the sort, and they needed to go help them. stiles needed to go help his friends.

but he didn’t want to.

for the first time in his life, he didn’t want to help. he wanted to stay here, in the hospital, with her. he wanted to hold her hand, sleep in the uncomfortable waiting room chairs, until the second they could visit danny. until the sun shone on her beautiful face.

stiles didn’t want to stand on the sidelines while his friends blood splattered across the walls around him. he especially didn’t want to watch somebody die tonight.

but, he didn’t protest when scott ushered him out of the building.

he had to do what he always had to do. it was expected. necessary.

like a sacrifice.

–

y/n tucked danny’s sheets around his chin like a mother would, before standing back to look at her work, proudly.

“you’re clinically insane,” he glared at her. the eye bags drearing his face were more prominent in the lighting coming from the lamp on his bedside table. y/n frowned deeply at the sight of him, so tired, nearly lifeless before her.

“you’re my little baby,” she cooed, sitting down beside him on the bed. it took everything in her not to squeeze his cheeks.

“i am a man,” he denied her.

y/n waved him off, “whatever helps you sleep. listen-“ she stood up, collecting her phone and keys off his bedside table, “i will be right down the hall. do not even hesitate to ask me for anything. water, a hug, maybe some cuddles-“

“go to sleep. you look like a walking corpse.”

y/n felt like one. they’d just gotten home the hospital, and it was 8pm on sunday. the waiting room chair had been uncomfortable, and she had felt a little off with the absence of stiles’ warm hands and soft words. so, she didn’t sleep very well. plus, sitting beside danny’s bed all day while they ran tests just added to the tired stress she was feeling.

but, the solace of his smell on his hoodie, and his sporadic text messages, got her through it all. he checked in once an hour, every hour. his phrasing was short, though, and he didn’t reply very quickly. but, stiles was still there. he was there for her.

now, y/n felt like she was going to collapse. so, she softly shut danny’s door behind her and headed for the guest room. it was right next door. she was too scared to leave him alone, so she was going to stay until his parents got home tomorrow night. she was even skipping school to look after him. ethan was going to stop by in the morning, today, he, apparently, had been caught up with something.

she didn’t really trust him. but that was a problem for another day.

y/n slipped out of her fresh pajama bottoms to get ready for bed because it was usually pretty warm in danny’s house. though she kept stiles’ hoodie on.

that morning, at the hospital, nurse mccall had delivered y/n’s book bag, packed neatly with a few essentials, like pjs, her toothbrush, her phone charger, to danny’s room.

stiles had gone out of his way to ensure she had her things how he’d gotten into her house? she didn’t know, and she didn’t really want to question it. she was just grateful he thought of her at all.

y/n shut the light off and got comfy under the covers. just as she went to shut off her phone, a phone call came through.

stiles.

“hello?” she whispered, voice too tired to speak too loud. y/n lay her head upon the pillow, shoving the phone between her ear and it. she felt her eyes closing.

“hey.”

the sound of his voice brought her so much comfort. the exhaustion was takning over now.

“how are you doing?” was the first thing he asked.

y/n smiled, which was visible through her words as she spoke, “better now.”

“oh, yeah?” stiles teased gently. “i was just checking in. was worried about you.”

“i was worried about you,” she emphasized, “is everything okay? nurse mccall said you had to handle something.”

everything was no okay. stiles had watched derek kill boyd just hours ago. luckily, they’d saved dr. deaton, and found a few more clues that would surely lead them to the serial killer rampaging their town.

but his classmate- his friend- was dead. and he watched it all happen. he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

but, e couldn’t tell her that.

though, she noticed a shift in his voice, “yeah, just something stupid. scott was having girl problems.”

y/n didn’t believe him.

she was noticing more and more that he was always disappearing, running off to do stuff that he wouldn’t tell her about. his cover stories never made much sense, either.

the thought that he was keeping secrets from her made y/n feel wary, made her want to pull away.

but, then he’d say something like, “i’m more worried about you, baby.”

and she was easily pulled back in.

“don’t,” she murmured. her eyes fell all the way shut. she was drifting off to sleep, the sound of his voice a sweet lullaby to her ears.

stiles smiled to himself. he imagined holding her in his arms, brushing the hair from her face as he watched her fall into a beautiful slumber. it comforted him.

but, when he focused his mind again, he was back in the cold, dark animal shelter, which was barren of any good feelings like the ones he could only day dream of for now.

he thought about telling her, again. but after what happened today, he wasn’t feeling very confident about it. he really, really could not lose her.

he just couldn’t.

“you should get to sleep,” stiles spoke.

scott motioned for him. so, stiles added, “i have to get going.”

“i miss you.” y/n was half asleep, completely unconscious to any words falling off her tongue.

stiles’ smiled again. “i miss you, too. hey, i’ll come see you tomorrow, okay? maybe we can watch the next scream.”

she didn’t have the energy to respond.

“you there, y/n?”

no response.

stiles figured she was asleep. “well, since you’re not there, i guess i can say…i really like you.”

y/n heard.

and she’d never tell.

she liked him, too.

but, what secrets was he keeping from her?

[actual-changeling]

Crowley watches him silently, motionless, and with his shades securely in place. If he has been counting correctly, and he rather assumes he has, then Aziraphale has been talking uninterruptedly for twenty-five minutes and two seconds now.

Three seconds.

"…so, I'm sorry, Crowley. I'm so, so sorry."

He is wringing his hands, unable to stand still, and shifting his weight slightly from foot to foot, searching for Crowley's gaze and failing. The sudden silence feels almost odd, the expectation rolling off Aziraphale in waves even more so, only infinitely heavier, and for a moment, he entertains the thought playing the part Aziraphale has thrust upon him.

But only for a moment.

"Right," Crowley responds, tightening his grip on the door and pressing his other palm against the frame, effectively barring Aziraphale from entering like he has been for the last twenty-six minutes.

"Anything else?"

Confusion wrinkles his forehead, and his fingers no longer turn his ring round and round over a stretch of reddened skin. Maybe it is the utter monotony of Crowley's voice or the lack of reaction in general, but Aziraphale seems, finally, at a loss for words. His mouth opens and closes a few times, his eyebrows knitting together, and Crowley allows him another thirty seconds of patient waiting, after which he calls it a day.

"Great."

He steps back and closes his front door, normally and without slamming it, locks it, and then miracles up a deadbolt for good measure, before picking up his cup of coffee from the chest of drawers (still hot if it knows what's good for it) and strolling back to the living room.

Eighteen months. A year and a half. Another apocalypse is dawning on the world, but if there is anything the last six millennia have taught him, it's that humanity will fix it anyway; they have a knack for that, always outsmarting heaven and hell alike. Well, and him, since he is neither here nor there—so, a special mention to the former angel slash demon Crowley, thank you very much.

A familiar pain tugs at his stomach nevertheless, a faded lightning bolt of distress shivers down his spine, and Crowley sinks into the cushions with a sigh, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table and pressing play on Queer Eye again. The ache will never fully disappear, but it has lessened, and he has learned how to live with it, how to breathe around the crudely stitched-up black hole in his chest.

Aziraphale left, and Crowley stayed. It's really simple, in hindsight, and after weeks of moping and crying, being completely wasted for days at a time, and overall being so miserable, every single one of his plants stopped being scared and became concerned instead, Crowley had picked himself off the floor and kept moving.

Not moving on is worse, Nina had told him during one of their board game nights (none of them can resist Muriel's angelic puppy eyes in that regard, and it is, admittedly, kind of fun), and she had been right.

He still loves him, fuck, of course he does; he doubts he will ever stop. Yet if Aziraphale thinks showing up uninvited and monologuing without pause for twenty-five minutes is going to fix anything, he is sorely mistaken.

'Listen, do you hear that?'

'I don't hear anything.'

Ironic, somehow, that Aziraphale is still not listening to him. Crowley will wait because it's Aziraphale, because he loves him, because despite everything, he is fucking lonely and misses him enough to be tempted to take him back without any apologies whatsoever.

Just tempted, though. His barricades and well-practiced self-control are going strong.

He has to be sure this time. He has to be sure that Aziraphale won't break him again, because the most recent incident almost killed him, and Crowley loves earth, loves him—but he has to love himself more than he loves his angel, or it will destroy them both.

Jonathan van Ness gives some poor sod a new haircut, Crowley drinks his piping hot coffee, and Aziraphale goes home.

It's a nice Tuesday, all things considered.

-

i'm sorry but also not :)

[howlingday]

Switchin' Ain't Easy

Mercury: And that'll do it for the stream today, ladies. Thank you so much for tuning in, and for all the donations, too, of course. And a big, ol' sexy thank you to all my tier three subs. You lovelies make all of this possible. I wouldn't be able to make half the amount of lien I do a week without y'all! See you all tomorrow, and it can't come soon enough~. Good-bye!

Mercury: (Click! Stretches) Mmgh!

Adrian: (Walks in) Hi, Mr. Mercury! How are you?

Mercury: Hey, kiddo! I'm doin' alright. Just finished up a Switch Stream. How are you?

Adrian: Okay, I guess. I was bored and I wanted to see what everyone else was up to.

Mercury: Yeah? And let me guess; you came to see the most awesome dude with bionic legs first because you knew he'd fix your boredom, right?

Adrian: No, you were actually my last choice 'cause everyone else was busy.

Mercury: Ghk!

Adrian: Not in a bad way! I'm just not allowed to hang out with you because then my uncle would get mad at me because he doens't like when I'm around you. When I ask him why, he says he'll tell me when I'm older. Then he walks away calling you something under his breath. He says you're a sloo... A slot... No... Oh! He calls you a "slu-"!

Mercury: HEY! Haha, maybe don't say it so loud! Especially if you're gonna go back to your uncle after seeing me.

Adrian: Huh?

Mercury: Nothing, nothing!

Adrian: Okay! Ooh, that's a really neat computer! Were you playing a video game~?!

Mercury: Yup! Just like I said, I just finished a Switch Stream. Helps pay the bills.

Adrian: But doesn't the government pay you a fair and just wage for all of your hard work protecting the world?

Mercury: ...Kid-

Adrian: I know, I know. I just heard what I said, too. So what does this "switch streaming" do?

Mercury: Well, kid, to make it easy to understand, take all the things that make a person a decent human being, like morals, dignity, respect, decency and everything else that your mommies teach you, then throw all of that in the garbage, sit down in front of a camera or mic, and BAM! You're Switch Streaming, baby~!

Adrian: I don't understand...

Mercury: Well, let me explain it like this then. A Switch Streamer makes a recording of themselves watching or playing or reacting to something or even just talking and then live streams it out for all of their fans and followers to watch and enjoy!

Adrian: Is that really the best way to make lien? It doesn't sound like it makes a lot.

Mercury: Well, the rates vary from the site itself, and Switch makes most of what I've got off of ad revenue, but where the lien REALLY rolls in is from the donations!

Adrian: Donations? Like, people give you lien?

Mercury: Bingo, kiddo! Hit the nail right on the head!

Adrian: But why would they donate to you? Do you make really funny or exciting content, Mr. Mercury?

Mercury: Oh, hell no! It's barely considered content!

Adrian: Huh? Then why-

Mercury: Listen, Adrian, some of us are born with what some people call "devilishly good looks". In other words, I look so good that a lot of people are willing to listen to me and to what I have to say. Because being sexy or attractive where it really matters can REALLY get people reaching for their wallets. Couple ab shots here and a shirtless messy water drink there and all them thots practically drown me in lien~!

Adrian: ...Mr. Mercury, are you a whore?

Mercury: WHAT?! Wh-Where did that come from?!

Adrian: Uncle Jaune and Mommy Saph talked about one of my aunties using her body to get something she wants makes her a whore. And they said it was a bad thing to be.

Mercury: That's... rude. But not untrue, I guess.

Adrian: So is being a Switch Streamer a bad thing?

Mercury: Let me answer your question with my own question. Do you know how much lien I make from a single three-hour stream?

Adrian: I don't know what that has to do with anything. Uncle Jaune says that if you do something bad, nothing will excuse-

Mercury: Over five thousand lien~.

Adrian: Mr. Mercury, can I be a Switch Streamer when I grow up~?

Mercury: You sure can, bud! You can do anything you put your mind to!

Adrian: Yay~! I can't wait to throw away my morals, ethics, and standards to make a large sum of lien from people I've never met~!

Mercury: (Sniffles) It's so fulfilling being a role model for young boys. Glad I was able to show you the joys of being a Switch Streamer, ki-

Jaune: WHAT THE HELL DID I JUST HEAR?!

Mercury: ACK! J-Jaune~!

Adrian: Uncle Jaune~!

Jaune: I came to pick my nephew up when I heard he was with YOU of all people! Now tell me, what exactly did I just hear you teaching my nephew?!

Mercury: Nothing, Jaune, I swear! We were just-

Adrian: It's okay, Uncle Jaune! Mr. Mercury was just teaching me how I can make lien by sacrificing my morals and having no respect for your body~!

Jaune: ...WHAT?!

Mercury: H-Hang on! I know that sounds bad, but-

Adrian: Uh-huh, and he told me how he uses his body to get people to give him a lot of lien! I learned so much from him~!

Mercury: KID! PLEASE STOP!

Jaune: ...

Jaune: (Grips metal bat) I'M TAKING YOUR LEGS AND YOUR LIFE, BLACK!

Mercury: ACK! S-Since when have you had a metal bat?!

Jaune: Since the writer gave it to me!

Mercury: What?!

Jaune: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Mercury: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Adrian: (Watching Jaune beat up Mercury) Huh... Guess you could say Uncle Jaune is really beating Mr. Mercury... BLACK and blue~!

Mercury: OH, BROTHERS, IT HURTS!

[rorimoon9597]

If he was known for anything, it would be his emotional maturity. Because when Pidge and Keith both floundered with refugees of all ages, Lance, Allura, Shiro, Coran and Hunk would be going around and offering comfort and a break, however small, from their troubles. It was something that came naturally to him from having such a big family.

So when Keith disappeared for two weeks without any trace after the Kral Zera, he freaked out. It was annoying for his friends, and only Coran was able to listen to his panicked rambling every single time.

Then Keith came back, and he didn't spare the details of his travelling, just that he ended up befriending a wolf that could teleport. They fought Lotor, and found out that Shiro was actually a clone and oh gods, his head hurt from all of that.

So now they were on a planet that Coran suggested they stopped on to recharge as much as possible and to relax. They were going to be heading back to Earth soon, which was exciting. Lance hadn't seen his family in so long. He wanted to introduce them to his boyfriend. He wanted to tell Adam that he finally got a boyfriend. Adam would be so proud!

But they needed to sort something out. Namely, why the hell didn't Keith call?

So Lance stood and stretched. eyes darted to him, including Shiro's eyes that had that fatherly look in them.

"Well, I'm tired. I'm going to go to bed now. Night," he said with a little wave. He walked to Red, who bent down to let him in. He could hear the others behind him, murmuring their goodnights except for Keith.

Lance went about his nightly routine, waiting for Keith to join him. It took a few minutes, in which he washed his face and changed into his pajamas, for the man to show up.

Keith was wearing his own pajamas, the wolf behind him. He walked up to Lance and wrapped his arms around him. The both of them relaxed, melting into each other. The wolf went to explore Red's interior, sniffing at things before moving on.

"I missed you," Keith whispered. His voice was deeper, and it sent shivers down Lance's spine.

"I missed you too... Why didn't you call?" He asked. He was prepared for a fight involving Keith being unable to talk at all.

"The quantum abyss didn't have reception," Keith said. Lance frowned.

"Quantum abyss?" He asked. He turned around to see Keith properly. "What is that?"

"It's where we found the planet that Lotor moved the Alteans to. If you're not careful, you can get pulled apart, atom by atom. It nearly happened to me once. Mom saved me from that." Lance gaped at Keith like a fish.

"You- what?"

"I know it sounds bad, but we were able to get to safety. There were these things that had their own ecosystem. They produced enough oxygen for humans to breathe, so Mom and I stayed on one of those while we were traveling," Keith explained. He rubbed circles into Lance's hips.

"What else happened?" Lance asked.

"There was a time dilation. So... Mom and I spent two years there." That truly made Lance's jaw drop. He looked at his boyfriend again, taking in how Keith's jaw was more defined, how his hair was longer and how he was taller now. He was taller than Lance, which meant that Keith was close to Hunk's height. That man was near six foot.

"Holy shit, you're- you aged two years while you were there?" He said.

"Yeah." Keith was watching him.

"You've changed," Lance observed, his voice soft. Keith's eyes grew... sad, almost.

"I have," he agreed. Lance smiled.

"I like these changes, you know," he said nonchalantly as he ran his hands up and down Keith's arms, feeling the newly developed muscles. They weren't like Shiro's, but they were definitely more prominent than before Keith left for the- what was it, quantum abyss?

"You do?" Keith asked. Lance swallowed. Keith's voice was going to be the death of him.

"I do," he replied. He rested his hands on Keith's chest, letting himself feel the faint thumping of Keith's heart. "You're taller than me, now, for one."

"So you like my height?"

"I like you, so I like everything about you," Lance replied, feeling satisfaction as Keith's skin colored just a bit. "Your voice is deeper as well, you know. It's hot." His arms moved to rest on Keith's shoulders, hand connecting behind black hair. Keith smirked and leaned in close.

"You like my voice, darling?" He asked. The Texas accent that Keith only spoke in when he wanted to came through, sounding better with the deeper voice.

"Shut up," Lance said. He pulled Keith into a kiss that he'd been waiting for since he first saw Keith on that screen. Keith hummed into it.

It was- it was the best kiss, for some reason. Perhaps it was because they hadn't seen each other in two weeks - at least, for Lance it was two weeks. For Keith it was two years.

"Why did you brush me off earlier? At the castle?" Lance asked when he pulled away. Keith's eyes were sad. Like, genuinely sad.

"I'm sorry, Lance. I had a mission, and I had complete the mission or else I probably would have decided to ignore it completely in favor of holding you. I... I knew that I'd do that, and I couldn't, because Allura needed to know and we needed to get revenge for all of those Alteans and stop Lotor," Keith said. Lance nodded, unable to say anything. He pressed another kiss to Keith's lips.

"I understand, cariño. It just threw me off a bit there, y'know?"

"Are you actually okay, Lance?" He paused at the question. Normally, it would take longer for Keith to ask that. Lance studied his boyfriend, ignoring the fact that they were both studying each other.

"I'm better now that you're here," he replied honestly. Keith studied him a bit longer, but eventually smiled.

"I'm glad. The past..."

"Two weeks," Lance supplied helpfully.

"It's only been two weeks for you guys?" Keith asked, surprised.

"Yes. Now, you were saying?" Keith smiled and shook his head.

"The past couple of weeks must have been hard for you, yeah?"

"The two years you spent with only your mom and your cosmic, teleporting wolf must have been hard for you. Hey, that's a good idea!"

"What is?"

"Kosmo!"

"Kos... mo..?" Lance pointed at the wolf, who tilted its head.

"Kosmo!" He said again. Keith blinked at Lance, then at the wolf. Then he turned to face Lance again.

"I guess. We'll have to see if he likes it, though." Lance turned to face the wolf.

"How's that sound, huh? Kosmo?" The wolf wagged its tail, then teleported over to them for pets.

"Alright... I guess his name is Kosmo now," Keith agreed. Lance grinned.

"Yep. And... I've been separated from you for far too long. So... what do you say cariño?" Lance asked, a grin on his face. Keith grinned back at him.

"Sure," he said. Red grumbled in the back of Lance's mind then retreated, leaving the two to their own devices. Kosmo, reading the air of the room, also disappeared.

________

"Do you want to know what I like the best about this newer version of you?" Lance asked. He traced patterns onto Keith's skin.

"What's your favourite thing?" Keith asked. Lance rested his head in the crook of Keith's neck, shivering slightly at the touch of his hand on his back.

"How you've grown emotionally," Lance replied. Keith hummed in response, encouraging Lance to keep going. "I like how you're able to talk about things much better now. The only reason why it took you so long to talk to me this time is because of the fighting, and Shiro too. But you didn't run from talking about things this time, and you apologized without me prompting."

"Mom helped me with that. We bonded a lot during our two years on that creature," Keith replied. Lance listened. He'd always liked the sound of Keith's voice, but he loved it now. The way it rumbled was comforting to Lance.

"I'm glad that you found her," Lance said.

"I'm glad that I found her, too," Keith agreed. "It was weird at first, y'know? How do you talk to a parent that's been absent for most of your life? But I learned about her story, how she met my dad and fell in love with him, how they found Blue and kept her as safe as possible. How Dad had to help Mom give birth which he had experience in. Did you know that he helped deliver babies when the mothers couldn't get to the hospital?"

"He did?"

"Yeah, so he knew what he was doing. Man, that would've been weird to explain. But Mom and I grew closer. We saw visions while we were there, in the quantum abyss."

"What did you see?"

"Us," Keith replied and oh, that was so sweet.

"Tell me," Lance said. And Keith indulged him, telling him of the things he saw. Shiro and Adam getting married and adopting two Altean children. Hunk and Shay getting together, them with a Galra child.

He told him of Matt's future wife and kids, how chaotic they were and how Pidge appeared to be a good aunt. He told Lance about Silvio becoming a cadet at the Garrison.

Then Keith told Lance about the two of them; the girl who looked like them combined that bought crystals that looked like fire and water, about her twin brother who looked like Keith more than Lance but cracked similar jokes to him. About the flying fox creature, about their wedding, how they would rebuild Keith's childhood home for the four of them and visitors.

And Lance listened, letting himself be lulled to sleep by Keith's voice.

When Keith noticed, he smiled. He pressed a kiss to Lance's hair.

"Goodnight, Lance. I love you, so, so much," he whispered.

[exhaustedpirate]

the one where Emma is pregnant

for everyone who didn't ask for it, I wrote a two-shot fic of that plotline on friends where Joey realises he loves Rachel but Ross kinda gets in the way but I made it CaptainSwan and (don't come at me) made it as it should have happened on the show ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ massive thanks to @belovedcreation for being my beta and having so much patience with me! rated T | 7662 words also on AO3

Chapter One - Killian

Killian Jones was going to hell.

Not only was he going to hell but he was living it too.

Emma Swan was pregnant. He was in love with Emma Swan. And he was not the father of Emma Swan’s baby. 

On top of that, Emma Swan did not love him back and was currently in the living room they shared reading Dr. Seuss to her 6-month bump, in a painfully (read, lovely) domestic scene.

Maybe not hell but very close.

“You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself in any direction you choose.” Killian heard from the kitchen, watching her hand make absent-minded shapes on her clothed belly. “You're on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the one who'll decide where to go...” 

He took a deep centering breath. He did that a lot around her.

“Think the lad will come out speaking in rhymes?” He asked playfully, coming to sit on the arm of the couch.

“Ha-ha, very funny,” Even without looking at her, he could tell she was rolling her eyes and he smiled. “All the baby books say to talk to the baby, so he knows your voice and since I don’t want to bore him with adoption bureaucracy, Dr. Seuss will do.” With a pleased grin, Emma burrowed further into the carefully placed pillows and flipped the page. “You’ll look up and down streets. Look’em-” Taking advantage of her single-hand hold, Killian took the book from her hand. “Hey!”

“He is probably tired of your voice by now,” He teased, ignoring her raised eyebrow glare. “Uncle Killian is the master storyteller here.” 

Emma scoffed, clearly trying to hide her smile. “Alright, Uncle Killian, dazzle us.” 

“Make yourself comfortable, Swan.” 

She made a show of fixing herself, positioning her body towards him with an expectant gaze, her hands on her five-month pregnant belly. For a moment, he let himself watch her, pretend for a moment that this was his. “We’re waiting.”

He shook off his fantasies, winking at her to disguise his turmoil. “You’ll look up and down streets. Look’em over with care. About some you will say, ‘I don’t choose to go there.’” Her eyes closed when he glanced over to her and his smile grew. “With your head full of brains and your shoes full of feet, you’re too smart to go down any not-so-good street.”

“Wow!”

Killian turned sharply to Emma at her exclamation, finding her with eyes wide open and a surprised smile on her face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, he just gave the strongest kick!”

He couldn’t help the fascinated expression on his face as he glanced between her belly and her face. “Really?”

“Yeah! Here,” Without warning, she grabbed his hand, the book forgotten to the floor.

His hand glided over her clothed belly guided by her own and he couldn’t help but to watch as her eyebrows scrunched in concentration, her teeth teasing her bottom lip. Tempting.

As if aware of his wandering thoughts, he felt a mighty kick against his palm startling a gasp out of him. “Did you feel it?” 

“Aye,” Killian breathed out in fascination, a grin stretching over his mouth at the feel of a second kick right under his fingers. “He’s strong.”

“Don’t I know it,” Emma chuckled with a hint of a reproach towards the small human growing inside her. “He’s been kicking at me for a few weeks but the books were saying that people should start being able to feel it about now.”

Killian felt a third softer push against his palm and he began to move his fingers in a soothing gesture. “You’ve been kicking your mother, lad, that’s not very nice.” He admonished in a soft voice, directed at the baby. His rebellious response was two consecutive kicks to his hand causing Emma to snort in amusement. “Apologies, love, I tried.” He chuckled.

“That’s alright,” Emma sighed with a blissfully happy smile on her face, her hands rubbing up and down the sides of her belly, her fingers touching his on every up stroke. “He just likes Uncle Killian’s voice.” 

He met her gaze. Her green eyes were a reflection of her happiness, of her serenity. Despite any misgivings upon discovering her pregnancy, there was no one who loved her baby more than Emma Swan. And all he wanted to do, all he was focusing on not doing was kissing her. Kissing her and telling her he loved her. Telling her he wanted to spend the rest of his days with her. Her and her lad.

That, in fact, had been the biggest shock of it all. Killian Jones, eternal bachelor and avid birth control advocate, wanted to be a father. Wanted to be a husband.

All because of Emma Swan.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” The sudden opening of the apartment door caused Killian to startle into standing before turning towards Neal. “Traffic was a bitch.”

“It’s Friday, everyone wants to get home first,” Emma groaned as she pushed herself into standing.

“I can relate,” Neal snarked, wrapping his arms around Emma for a quick hug before turning to Killian. “Thought you would be at the Rabbit Hole by now, or on a hot date.”

“Nah,” Killian waved the idea away. “I wanted to make sure Emma would be okay until you got here.”

“You’re a good guy,” Neal smiled with a pat to Killian’s shoulder. “Now that I’m here, we should really go.”

“Yeah,” Emma sighed, fixing her bag on her shoulder. “I told the doctor we would be late but we shouldn’t keep them longer.”

“I want to know everything when you’re back.” Killian said, as he always did.

“Don’t worry, Uncle Killian, I’ll give you a picture to add to the fridge.” Emma laughed, her hand running down his arm as she followed Neal to the door.

“See you later, man.” Neal waved leaving Killian alone in his living room, arm in the air in a wave.

To add fuel to the hellfire. Neal Cassidy was his best friend. Neal Cassidy was the baby’s father. And Neal Cassidy was also in love with Emma Swan.

---

Killian would admit, only under threat of excruciating torture, that he was jealous of Neal. It hadn’t always been the case, of course. He’d met him years ago through his flatmate, David, who had been Neal’s college roommate. 

He hadn’t been jealous then. Didn’t envy Neal’s broken engagement or the betrayal that led to it. Didn’t envy having to restart his life after something like that. Not when he had gone through the same too. 

So what if Neal and Emma had been friends during their school years? They shared the same friend group, so really nothing to be jealous of.

And it wasn’t like he had loved Emma for years, pining away in dark corners and brooding in a lonely room.

Truth was, Emma had fascinated him from the first moment they met. Strong-willed and caring, not to mention absolutely gorgeous, she had burst into their lives in a pink skin-tight dress. Hazards of the job, she called it. Apparently, she had followed her skip to New York and proceeded to ‘honey trap’ him, her words. There had been some choice words directed at her that had led her to the bar their group had been at as well, giving Emma and Mary Margaret an enthusiastic reunion. And he was entranced.

His reputation as a bit of a philanderer, however, had her keeping her distance from him. He couldn’t blame her. It would have likely ended badly if they had fallen into bed with each other. Probably.

In any case, they were friends. Emma had warmed up to him as he opened up to her. They shared stories, scars, adventures. He still slept around, she did too. She dated some people, so did he. She fell in love with Neal, he… was happy for her.

They were friends and it was enough for him.

Until it wasn’t.

David and Mary Margaret’s wedding was years in the making, more than a decade probably. It was clear to anyone who knew them that those two were perfect for each other. So to not only be a part of their wedding but to do so as the officiant was the best day of his life. 

Finding out that Emma was pregnant with Neal’s baby did put a damper on the occasion.

He would have also preferred that said baby hadn’t been conceived at his place but Killian was making the conscious choice to put all that far away from his brain. 

But it was fine, he had offered his spare room after Tink’s flat caught on fire. He had wanted to be there for his best friend and his infatuation was manageable. Besides, he didn’t want to ruin their friendship over some physical attraction he felt towards her. He had learned to live with it by trying to find a replacement in other people. Not exactly the healthiest but they were all consenting adults. 

Of course, he should know that managing it wouldn’t cut it for too long.

“Killian,” Emma called, in that soft voice that told him she was about to ask him something. “Can you get me a muffin, please?”

He grinned, raising an eyebrow at her. 

“Come on, I’ll make sure to tell the baby all about their amazing Uncle Killian.” She pouted,  as she pointedly rubbed her bump, beautifully round 4 months into the gestation process, her eyes shining with mirth. 

“You know, Swan,” he started, standing up. “Once that baby is out, you’ll have to stop using him to get what you want.” 

“Agree to disagree,” She grinned as he shook his head with a matching smile. “Chocolate, please.” 

He sighed, aware that all that hemming and hawing was purely for show. He would give her anything she asked for. He delighted in the happy wiggle she did on the coffee shop’s chair as he handed her her muffin, in the brilliant smile on her face. In a happy Emma.

“Actually, Swan, I want your opinion on something.”

“Shoot.” 

Killian grinned at her muffled voice, her mouth full of muffin. “I’m trying to figure where to take Ariel on a date, do you know of any good restaurants?”

“Ariel? Who’s that?” 

“Someone I met at the bar the other day, did I not mention her?”

“No,” She frowned as she wiped her mouth.

“Well, I need to impress her, if you know what I mean.” He winked, making it all the more exaggerated for the eye roll.

“Right,” She grunted.

“Something wrong?”

“Nope,” She quickly answered, popping the ‘p’. “Just make sure to go to her house this time, I wanna sleep.”

Killian’s grin widened. “Not to worry, Swan, I won’t get between you and sleep again. But will you help me?”

“Hmm,” Emma hummed as she broke the muffin into small pieces. “You could take her to Bella Notte, they make delicious food and it’s so beautiful there.” Her voice lightened as she spoke, her lips ticking up in a smile.

“That sounds good.” “And, afterwards, you could take her to Any Given Sundae for dessert. Or take her on a walk on the docks. Oh! Take her dancing!”

“That’s all well and good, Swan, but won’t all of that make her too tired to have sex with me?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, his grin threatening to split his face.

Emma rolled her eyes, sitting back on the couch with a pout.

“I’m sorry, love, those are great ideas.” Killian reassured with a soft smile.

“I can’t believe I miss dating,” She sighed, placing her free hand on her already visible bump. “I actually miss getting dressed up and going somewhere fancy with some random guy that will disappoint me in bed but will at least take me to a nice restaurant. I won’t be able to do that for a long time…” She patted her belly before turning back to Killian. “Not that I’m not excited to give birth to a sixteen pound baby, of course.”

Killian smiles at her understandingly. “Hey, Swan?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to go on a date with me?”

He almost laughed at the way her mouth gaped open before she scoffed, composing herself. “Yeah, right, like you would wanna go out with a pregnant woman.”

“You’re right,” Killian nodded, watching as her shoulders dropped in resignation. “I want to go out with my best friend and have a good time.” His heart soared at the soft smile on her face, a strange spark of something in her eyes. “Besides, it’ll take your mind off birth plans, c-sections, pushing a human head out of your-”

“Alright!” Emma interrupted loudly, glaring at his laughter before joining him. “I’d love to go out with you.”

“I promise you’ll have fun.” Killian winked before standing up to leave with a kiss to her head. “Be ready at 7.”

In hindsight, he should know that hell is filled with good intentions and, as previously said, he was in hell. While all he wanted was to make his best friend happy, he hadn’t been able to ignore the fluttering in his chest at the prospect of this date.

Killian knocked on his flat door at exactly 7pm. He heard her call out to him from inside and resisted the urge to laugh. He knocked once more and held his breath when he heard her approach. Emma opened the door and he was sure his heart had stopped at the sight of her surprised smile.

“What are you doing out there?” Emma asked, a confused smile on her face.

His grin widened. “I’m here to pick you up for our date.” He pulled his hand from behind his back handing her a red rose. “For you.”

Killian watched as her smile grew more genuine, her eyes softening. He felt her fingers brush against his as she took the flower from his hand. “Thank you.” He let her awed whisper and the way her eyes fluttered shut as she smelled the rose to nestle in his chest.

Right, hell.

“This is great,” She smiled widely as she turned to him. “It actually feels like we’re going on a real date,” She whirled around, letting the smell of her vanilla shampoo hit his nose at the movement, to put the rose in a glass of water. “Though, I do have a hint of morning sickness and this was the only dress I could fit in that was date-worthy.”

Killian let his eyes wander down her body at the mention. Her red dress fit snugly around her bump and left her legs bare from the knee down. He remembered the dress from one of their outings to the bar and how loose it had fit her then. She had kept her hair down and it shone even in the artificial lighting. She looked breathtaking.

He mentally shook himself away from fantasies about taking that dress off her. “Alright, Swan, I’m making it my mission to make you forget all about that,” he grinned before clearing his throat and fixing his posture. “Right, so, you have a nice place, I like your book collection.”

“Actually, that’s my roommate’s,” She played along, a beautiful smirk on her face. 

“Your roommate? A fellow reader, they sound interesting.”

“He is but he’s also very protective so be warned.” She grinned as she grabbed her bag and her coat.

“And uh, is he good looking?” 

“Mhmm.” 

He approached with a swagger as she turned her back to the door, entranced by her happy smile. “Oh, it must be tough to keep your hands to yourself…”

Her soft laughter reached into his chest. “Actually, I think he has a leather kink, you know what I mean?” She winked as she opened the door to leave.

“Way to ruin the game, Swan.” He rolled his eyes, a faux annoyed tone to his voice even as he all but skipped out of the flat. 

Emma was still laughing as they got out of the cab in front of the restaurant. Just like she’d suggested, he had booked them a table by the window at Bella Notte.

“What did I tell you?” Emma smiles, dazzled and vindicated. “Isn’t it beautiful?” 

It was beautiful but that’s not where his attention was. It was on the way the warm candle light reflected in her hair. And the way her eyes shone with delight. And the way it made everything look so much more intimate. 

And the way it put him in so much trouble.

“You’re always right, Swan,” he sighed, hoping she would take his tone as reluctance and not this fascination running through him.

Emma winked and he smirked as he rushed to pull the chair out for her. Her smile grew as she sat down, looking up at him. “Hmm, Killian Jones is a gentleman on dates.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Killian winked, taking her coat from her before taking one of her hands in his free one. “I’m always a gentleman.” 

He hoped it hadn’t been his wishful thinking that he saw a shiver run down her arm at the kiss he placed on her knuckles, his eyes locked with hers. It was only the movement from an approaching waiter that broke him from the spell of her green gaze. He cleared his throat taking his seat, missing the disappointed look on her face or the way she rubbed the place where he kissed with his thumb. He had to show a semblance of control.

The waiter offered them a wine menu which had Emma’s brow furrowed in disappointment. In a show of support, Killian ordered a lasagna for two - after receiving Emma’s approving nod - with their best non-alcoholic beverage.

“You really don’t have to do this, Killian,” Emma pressed her lips together, even as he noticed the appreciative spark in her eyes. “I’m the one who can’t drink, not you.”

“I know.” 

Her cheeks reddened under his smirk before she smiled fully back at him. Emma shuffled in her seat before she crossed her arms on the table, staring at him with searching eyes.

“So, besides pulling chairs, what else does Gentleman Killian do on dates?”

“Are you saying I need more than just my good looks?” He laughed at her answering look, raised eyebrows and all. “Well, my brother always taught me to listen, be respectful and polite. You have him to thank.” 

Emma sat back on her chair, raising an incredulous eyebrow. “Really? No special moves? What about the hand kiss?”

“I’m just my irresistible self, Swan, that’s all I really need,” Killian winked as he mirrored her posture. “Don’t worry, I don’t have any special tricks that will make you fall in love with me.”

She still looked unconvinced as she inspected him, watching his eyes. He decided to level the playing field, leaning forward to place his elbows on the table.

“What about you, Swan? Any tricks?”

“I don’t need any tricks,” She smirked, pushing away hair from her shoulder in a slow move. His eyes tracked the movement of her hand as she brought it back down her chest before settling it back on her lap. When he looked up at her, her smile was wide and triumphant. “I just clean up well and that’s usually enough.”

“Well,” Killian cleared his throat, sitting back on his chair and scratching at the back of his neck. “That will do it.”

Emma laughed delightedly. That does it too. The waiter returned with their food and beverages and it tasted just as delicious as it smelled. Despite the initial plan of pretending to be on a real date, their conversation topics and general posture is equal to every other time they’ve been together. 

With some differences. He felt the touch of her hand on his far more often as he forcefully pushed down his desire to hold it, especially when she dragged her fingers away and he felt her touch emblazoned on his skin. He watched her more attentively than usual too. The way her eyes sparkled, the way her full lips stretched, the way they parted, the way she ran her tongue over them, the way he just wanted to press his lips against hers.

Killian wondered if that is one of her special tricks on a date. He wondered if it would matter if they were. He wondered if it would stop the ache and the pining in his chest for something real with Emma Swan.

“This was great,” Emma smiled brightly, her coat wrapped around her shoulders as they reached their flat door. “Thank you for doing this.”

“It was my pleasure, love,” Killian smiled as he stood close to her, his hand coming up to push her hair over her shoulder. “I had a lot of fun.”

They were close. He could see the specks of gold in her green eyes and had never felt such a desperate need to touch her, hold her. He thought he heard her breath quicken before she cleared her throat.

“Well, how do dates usually end for Killian Jones?” 

Her smirk wasn’t as bright as before, a hint of anxiety in her eyes and he wondered - hoped - she was jealous, as unrealistic as it was.

“In bed, either mine or theirs, as you well know,” Her unimpressed gaze lost its strength under the red hue of her cheeks. “Or did you want to know how I get them there?”

“Can’t blame a girl for being curious,” At his hesitation, she continued. “Afraid I can’t handle it?” She raised her eyebrow as she crossed her arms over his chest and he wanted to kiss that smirk off her lips. “Try me, Jones.”

“Alright, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Killian smirked, taking a fortifying breath, not just as a need to focus but to hold on to his restraint. “I usually get really close and say,” He raised his hand to cup her cheek, his fingers in her hair while his thumb rubbed against her cheek, his eyes glancing between her widened eyes and her lips. “You owe me a second date, love,” He lowered his voice, invading her personal space as his thumb moved down to whisper over her parted bottom lip. “I spent the whole night distracted by your lips.”

He felt her shaky breath on the pad of his thumb as he kept his eyes on hers. The way her pupils widened to swallow the green. The way her chest rose and fell to accommodate her stuttered breathing. He felt his heart beat faster on his chest as a feel of desire ran down his body. Maybe he’s the one who can’t handle it.

Emma blinked rapidly, her eyes losing their dazed quality as she focused on the here and now. She pulled back, removing her face from his touch as he noticed how she had leaned towards him in response. 

“Wow, that is good, I almost believed you.” She let out in a shaky laugh, turning around to grab the keys from her back to open the door to their flat. He is thankful for the opportunity to gather some control now that he’s away from her captivating gaze. “I can see that working.”

Should he tell her that, despite having done it many times before, it had never affected him as much as then? 

“Well, it worked with you too,” he quipped, putting on his tried and true swagger as he followed her in. “It got me inside your place.” 

Her surprised laughter lifts his spirits and has his smile widening. “Right, I mean you did say it would work!”

Killian winked, stuffing his hands in his pockets to stop him from touching her again. “What about you? Anything you do to get them in your room?”

“Well,” Emma started with a smirk, dropping his jacket on the couch and approaching him, causing his fists to clench in his pocket. “It’s all about the hands, right?”

Her eyes lock onto his as she places her hands on his chest. He’s sure she can feel his heart pounding against her palm. “And keeping my voice real low,” She whispers as her hands run up to his shoulders. “As I tell you that I enjoyed our date,” Her fingers whisper over the skin of his neck, a spark running down his body until it reaches his waist, before placing them at the back of his neck. He can feel her fingers play with his hair and her breath against his as she speaks. “And that I would love to go out again.”

The rope that had been holding him back the whole evening breaks as he eliminates the space between them to press his lips against hers, his hands coming out to rest on her hips. Her surprised gasp brings him back to reality, quickly pulling away from her.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers with matching wide eyes. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“Yeah, well,” Her voice is shaky and he hates himself for causing her such distress. “I think we let this fake date thing get to us a little bit.”

“I’m really sorry, Swan.” He breathes out.

“Don’t worry about it,” She waves away, running her hands through her hair. “We are just very good at this.” 

“Aye.” 

“Anyway, I really need to get out of these shoes so I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Of course,” He nods quickly. “Have a good night.”

She backs away towards her room with a small smile. “I had a great time, Killian, thank you.”

“Me too,” He holds his breath until her door closes behind her. He lets it out in a rush, his hands coming up to rub at his face as a panic starts to rise in his chest.

He was in love with his best friend. That’s when true hell began.

Despite his realization, Killian decided to follow Emma’s lead. She didn’t bring up their ‘date’ and what happened after and neither did he. They carried on as normal for the next couple of months, as he carried on his role as her devout friend. 

His date with Ariel only served to cement his feelings towards Emma. While a lovely and gorgeous girl, he missed the desire and affection that had been so natural when he had been with Emma. It made it all clearer. Especially when he couldn’t bring himself to bring her to his room.

So he ignored the way his heart beat faster in his chest whenever she drew near, whenever they touched. He forced down his desire to hold her a little tighter, touch her a little longer, kiss her, love her. He pushed it all down because she was his best friend and he would rather have her as a friend than not have her at all.

---

“God, this kid is killing me,” Emma groaned as she all but threw herself onto the couch. “How long until he’s out of me, again?”

“According to your very detailed calendar,” Killian grinned, looking at the calendar stuck to the fridge door. “About 13 weeks.”

“Who was the smart asshole who thought counting it in weeks would help?” 

Killian laughed, watching as Emma pouted before shuffling on the couch trying to get comfortable. “Does 3 months sound like less time?”

Her displeased groan was his only answer and the following glare at his responding laugh had him extremely glad that she didn’t have magical powers.

“I’m sorry, love, will a foot rub help?”

Her assessing gaze had him brightening his already dazzling smile. She sighed and he counted it as a victory. “Damn you, Jones, you always know what to say.” 

Killian winked. “It’s one of my many talents.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Emma rolled her eyes but her smile took all the heat away from it, specially as she shook her feet out of her slippers. “Just come here.”

Killian grinned as he sat on the coffee table, a pillow on his lap to accommodate her aching feet. He took hold of her ankles, carefully pulling her feet up to his lap. She sighed at the upright position and he waited for her to get comfortable once more.

“Ready?”

“Oh yeah,” Emma smiled in anticipation. “Dazzle me with your skills.”

Killian laughed before finally putting his hands on her feet. He had become accustomed to rubbing her feet after a long day, especially during the latest weeks as they began to hurt more and more. She had protested against it the first time he tried to offer, claiming that she didn’t need to be babied just because she was having one. After she relented, she had basically claimed him as her foot masseur.

He didn’t complain. It made him feel like he was helping, like he was part of it. Besides, he definitely wasn’t complaining at the sounds Emma makes during his foot rubs. Especially when she really got into it. The pillow on his lap wasn’t just for her comfort.

Killian focused on the plot of the coin documentary Mary Margaret made them watch as punishment for the disaster that was David’s bachelor party. Little did she know, it had actually helped him a lot in situations like this.

“Ow!”

Emma’s startled gasp of pain had him quickly pull his hands away from her feet. 

“What happened? Did I hurt you?”

“No, no, you were doing great,” Her face scrunched up in pain as her hands roamed her belly and sides before settling at the front of her abdomen. “I just felt this sharp pain.”

“Maybe you should lie down.”

“Yeah, may- Ah!” He took hold of her ankles once more to put them back down as she tried to curl in pain. “Okay,” She winced in pain as she felt another sharp pain. “I’m kinda freaking out, Killian!”

“I’m sure it’s all going to be alright, Emma, but,” he continued as she opened her mouth to argue with him. “Why don’t we go to the hospital to get it checked out? I’ll text Neal on the way.”

Emma nodded quickly, taking hold of his hands to stand up from the couch, letting go to place them on her abdomen once more. “Oh god!”

“Emma,” he called, placing his hand under her chin to bring her eyes up to his. “It’s going to be alright, trust me.” Even with fearful eyes, she nodded, her trust in him comforting as he smiled. “Let’s go.” 

She took his hand as he led her out of the flat, gripping it painfully as she gasped in pain. 

“Bloody hell!”

“Same here, buddy.”

---

Killian wondered if it was possible to wear out tiled flooring with all the back and forth pacing he was doing in the hospital’s waiting room. Of course, all of that stopped mattering when the consultation room’s door opened to an annoyed but no longer in pain Emma.

“So?” 

“She’s fine,” The doctor answered as she walked out behind Emma who couldn’t help her eye roll. In any other moment he would have smiled at that. “Those were just Braxton Hicks contractions, they are contractions in the uterine wall not unlike labor contractions.”

“Yeah, so fine is an understatement, don’t you think?”

Again, if looks could kill.

“So, everything is normal?” Killian directed at Doctor Lucas - according to her coat - hoping Emma would forgive him for ignoring her comment. “And the baby is fine?”

“Absolutely, it can be a very scary situation but they are both fine.” 

“Thanks, doc.” Emma smiled, a thin smile but thankful nonetheless. Doctor Lucas gave them a final smile and a nod before returning to her office.

Emma sighed, placing her hands on Killian’s arms. “Thank you, Killian, I couldn’t have done this if you hadn’t been so calm.”

“Calm?!” He exclaimed, his hands gripping her wrists. “I have never been more scared in my whole life!”

“What?” Her mouth parted as her eyes widened in surprise. “But you said everything would be alright.”

“I’m not a doctor, Swan, I don’t know anything!”

“But we are fine, it’s all okay.”

His hands moved from her wrists to grasp onto her hands. “Are you sure?”

Her smile both calmed his racing heart and created a flutter in his belly. “Yeah, all good.”

Killian wrapped his arms around her tightly while minding the baby between them, feeling all his worries leave him as her fingers played with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

“Hey,” Neal’s voice interrupted their hug and Killian stuck his hands on his back pockets as he took Emma’s hands in his. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s all okay.” She smiled reassuringly.

“Killian’s text said to come to the hospital, what happened?”

“Something called Braxton Hicks contractions.” Killian answered, with a deep breath as he fixed his hair.

“Oh, that’s a relief,” Neal’s shoulder dropped in relief as he ran his thumbs over Emma’s hands. “The books say most women don’t even feel them.”

“Alright,” Emma pulls her hands from Neal’s grip to place them on her hips. “No uterus, no opinion.” 

Finally, Killian could smile at her glare, mostly because it wasn’t directed at him.

“What took you so long anyway?” Killian asked, hoping to distract Emma’s anger. 

“I was having coffee with Tink,” Neal answered, before his eyes widened and he smacked his hand against his forehead. “Shit, she probably thinks I ditched her.”

“What? Why?”

“Well, I checked my messages while she went to the bathroom and didn’t even tell her.”

“She’s gonna kill you,” Killian laughed, stopping when he received a raised eyebrow glare from Emma. “I mean, I’m sure she’ll forgive you.”

“Oh,” Her eyes widened in realization. “I gotta go back in there.”

“Why? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Neal asked in succession as he laid his hands on her arms. “Tell me.” 

Emma sighed. “I forgot my underwear, okay? Chill.” She answered with a chuckle.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” She rolled her eyes fondly when Neal let go of her arms to nervously scratch the side of his head. She shared an amused look with Killian before returning to the consultation room.

Neal cleared his throat, turning towards Killian. “Thanks for bringing her to the hospital, man. I really appreciate it.” He nodded, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it, mate, it was the least I could do.”

“I just wish it had been me,” Neal sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I mean, I’m the dad.”

It wasn’t easy to forget.

He opened his mouth to reassure his friend when Doctor Lucas came back out of her office. “I got you some information on Braxton Hicks, in case you have any questions,” She smiled politely, handing Killian the papers. “You did the right thing bringing her in, you’re going to make a wonderful father.”

And while Killian’s heart soared at the compliment, there was a weight bringing it back down to the reality of the situation. He glanced towards Neal’s hurt expression before smiling thinly at the doctor. “He’s the father, actually,” Killian corrected, taking the papers from her. “And he knows way more than me about this so I need all the help I can get, thanks.”

“Right, hmm, I’m sorry.” 

“No need to worry, you didn’t know,” Neal waved away Doctor Lucas’ apology with a tight smile. “It was an honest mistake.”

As if he didn’t already feel bad enough.

---

“Are you sure you should be doing this?” 

“Mary Margaret has been complaining about this door for weeks,” David grunted as he tried to force a screw to leave its place. “She’s going to love me when I fix it.”

“I’m all for helping you make your lady happy, mate,” Killian continued, ignoring David’s unamused glare by adjusting his grip on the door. “I’m just wondering if you’re the right man for the job.”

David stood up, placing his clenched fists on his waist. “Are you saying I’m not man enough to fix a creaky door?”

“Not at all,” Killian quickly answered, holding back his amusement. “You just don’t have the greatest track record when it comes to fixing things. Need I remind you-”

“Don’t even start with the TV incident.” David interrupted before returning to the task at hand.

“I’m just saying, you still owe me 200 dollars.”

“How’s that inappropriate crush on Emma going?” David asked, effectively making him forget about the time he ruined their TV.

The skin behind his ear was tingling and his hands were too busy to scratch at it. “Bloody fantastic,” he gritted out. Sometimes, he still regretted having confided in his best friend. “I just wish I could make all these feelings go away, wish it could all go back to normal.” David sent him a sympathetic gaze and he sighed. “I love having her around, helping out with the baby is amazing but I think Neal is having a hard time with all of this.”

“What do you mean?” David asked with a frown, both at the idea but also with effort.

“I think he feels left out,” Killian answered. “When I took Emma to the hospital, the doctor thought I was the father and the look on Neal’s face killed me.”

“It’s not your fault, though, what else were you going to do? You had to take her to the hospital.”

“Aye, but-”

“It’s not your fault,” David repeated insistently. “You’ve done nothing wrong.” He returned to the task at hand, his head tilting to the side and a smirk twitching at his lips. “Except for loving the woman carrying your best friend’s baby.”

“Right,” Killian said bitterly. “Thanks, mate.” 

David stood up to his full height and turned to Killian, with a sympathetic expression. “I’m on your side, Killian, you know I am. This is just-”

“Complicated, I know.” Killian sighed.

---

“Check this out.” Emma grinned excitedly as Neal entered their flat.

With a careful motion, she placed a can of Coke on top of her round belly, keeping it balanced. She turned a bright grin towards the two men watching. Killian laughed with her unaware of Neal’s fainter laughter.

“She’s been doing that all day.” Killian teased.

Emma rolled her eyes at him, taking the can back from its resting place. “I should be allowed to have fun with this pregnancy.”

“Of course, love, amuse yourself.” 

Emma smiled delightedly, putting down the can on the counter.

“Right,” Neal interrupted. “Emma, I brought you some lunch, I thought-”

“Oh, what is it?” Emma asked, excitedly taking the container from his hand.

“Your favorite.” There was a soft smile on his lips. “Onion rings.” 

As Emma opened the container, she quickly pulled it away from her as one of her hands flew to her mouth. “God.” Her muffled groan was his only warning and Killian quickly flew in to grab the container from her hands before she turned and ran - as best she could - to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

“What happened?”

“She can’t eat onion rings anymore,” Killian explained, closing the container again with an apologetic smile towards his friend.

“B-But you love onion rings,” Neal spoke at the bathroom door.

“Not anymore!” Emma groaned out.

“I’m sorry, are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine,” Emma coughed, her voice echoing. “Just make sure they’re gone when I come out.”

“Don’t worry, Swan, I’ll get rid of them.” Killian called out, throwing the container in the fridge.

“I can’t believe this,” Neal breathes out, running a harried hand through his hair. “I made her sick.”

“You didn’t know, mate, it could happen to anyone.”

“Not to you,” Neal pointed out. “You know this stuff and you’re not even the father. I should be more involved.”

“Right.” 

They both turned to the bathroom when Emma came out, her hands holding her back. 

“Onion rings, guys, this kid took onion rings from me,” she pouted.

Neal pressed his lips together in a small smile as he rubbed Emma’s arms. “It’s not long until he’s out here and I’ll give you a lifetime’s supply of onion rings.”

Emma grinned. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Despite the ache in his chest, he knew he had to come up with something to help them. He knew that it would hurt but they would be happy in the long run. And that’s all he wanted - for Emma to be happy. Even if it wasn’t with him.

Killian cleared his throat, catching their attention. “Can I talk to you two for a second?”

“Yeah, what’s up?” Emma asked with a concerned frown, even as she settled on the couch with Neal sitting at her side on the arm.

“I wanted to talk about us, the three of us.”

“Are you breaking up with us, dude?” Neal teased.

“You two should live together,” Killian said quickly, wanting to be done as fast as possible. “Because you live with me, I’m always here for the pregnancy stuff, Emma, and Neal is missing it and I know it upsets him.”

“Are you kicking me out?” Emma asked, her voice small as she looks at him with hurt in her eyes. He feels his heart breaking into a million pieces. 

“No!” Killian quickly reassures, his hands in front of him. “I love living with you but,” He takes a deep breath. “If you’re going to have a roommate, it should be your baby’s father.”

“I mean, he has a point.” Neal agrees and Emma turns to him with a surprised look.

“Neal, are you sure this is a good idea?” She frowns. “It’s always been complicated between us.” 

“I know but, he’s right, I hate missing out on all of this pregnancy stuff,” Neal sighs. “If we lived together, I could be there for you to help.”

“I don’t know…” Emma’s frown deepened as she glanced at Killian. 

He had to cross his arms over his chest so that he wouldn’t reach out to her, beg her to ignore him and stay. Stay with him forever. But he couldn’t.

“We’ll give it a try,” Neal tries, his hand laying on her round belly. “For him.”

He watched as Emma pressed her lips together, not pleased with the argument but being convinced by it. Her hand rested over Neal’s and Killian had to look away, uncomfortable at the intimate scene, aching over Emma’s departure.

Neal would be a good father, he trusted that at least. They had bonded over the disappointing father figures in their lives when they first met so he knew he wouldn’t want to make the same mistakes as his father had made. But, despite his love for his friend, he didn’t fully trust him to not screw things up - he had betrayed Emma before.

But he wanted to give them a chance. To give the baby a chance at a family without a devilishly handsome bloke taking up space where he doesn’t belong. 

“Okay,” She whispered before clearing her throat. “We’ll give it a try.”

“Great!” Neal grinned brilliantly, kissing Emma’s forehead before turning to pat Killian’s shoulder, almost too strongly. “That was a great idea, man.”

He really wished he didn’t have such great ideas.

---

Killian let the rum wash down his throat, enjoying the sting of it. 

“Hey,” David greeted as he walked into the flat, receiving a head tilt as a response. “Emma all moved out? How are you taking it?”

“I’m doing brilliantly, mate,” Killian answered, a forced smile on his face as he leaned back on the couch. “I can drink rum again, I had to stop drinking because even just the smell made her sick, but since she’s not here…” He raised his glass in a salute before downing it. “I can make all the noise I want, bring back whoever I want, I could have sex in the living room!”

“Killian-”

“I can walk around naked,” He continued, standing up from the couch, gesturing wildly with his hands. “I can have an orgy in the house, I can scream, I can dance, I can do whatever I want!” He was almost manic as he all but threw his glass onto the coffee table. “I can rest easy knowing that I reunited a happy family. Maybe they’ll invite me to the wedding too, I can even officiate!”

“Dude, are you okay?”

“I’m a fucking hero, David,” he spat out. “I know that it was wrong to love her but I do. And I let her go because it’s the right thing to do, I lost my chance. If I ever even had one…It doesn’t matter. I’m better on my own, I can go back to my whorish ways and I can stay alone in this flat forever.”

“You’re not going to be alone.” David reassured him, approaching him.

“I will never love anyone like I love her, that much is true,” Killian sighed, burying his fingers in his hair and pulling on it to try and stop his tears. “I’ll go back to how it was before and I’ll be here to watch her be happy with someone else. And that will be fine because that’s all I want… for her to be happy.” He finished in a barely audible whisper.

David’s arms wrapped around him in an instant, his hand on the back of his head in that way that made everyone feel safe and loved. Killian returned his best friend’s hug, burying his face on his shoulder as he let his tears fall.

“You did the right thing, Killian,” David whispered, tightening his hold at Killian’s tearful scoff. “I know it hurts but I’m so proud of you. You’ll be okay and you won’t be alone, not while you have me.” 

His arms wrapped tighter around David and he let the embrace tape all his broken pieces back together. He willed it to be enough.

second and final chapter posting tomorrow! hope you enjoyed!

[kaerimichirami]

帰り道 / kaerimichi　[PT 1]

It was raining a lot the day my parents brought me home for the first time, three days after the Friday I was born. I won't lie and say I think about it every time it rains, but occasionally, when it touches my shoulder, I remember I'm human. It slowly takes me back to many thoughts, and it eases the pain as much as it punches me again. So many things bring me to this state. A really good book. Tasty matcha latte. Air conditioning. Sometimes, a movie or a song. There's this type of melody... I, despite loving music having an extremely untrained ear, can't explain what or why, but this certain tune brings me back to myself. As if I forgot, somehow, that I exist. That I am. That I go and I come back. That I was born, and that I breathe, heavily or lightly. That I get goosebumps and that I feel the wind or the burning sun. When the raindrops touch my exposed skin or my scalp, or even when they fall directly into my glasses' lenses, and I'm suddenly unable to cross the street without wiping it off, I remember about myself. How do I even forget about it? I don't know. But I come back to my senses every two weeks or so. And I'm born again, and I'm brought home again, and I'm taking baby steps every two Mondays.

Doctors and experts will name it in various ways. And they'll shove pills down my throat. And I'll be, "Oh, I feel emptier now. Thank you, Sir." and then cry after the appointment because it is just so embarrassing that they've once again said I need to lose weight. But I could say it is so much more about others than about me. When I go back to my childhood or my teenage, and God forbid, because I'm only in my early twenties, I can point every single cause. They have many different names and appearances, different voices and talking styles, but I remember them oh-so perfectly, and I am somehow a result of their experiments. For years and even now, I've wondered if I'm, in fact, not human, but one of those bags boxers use to practice. Due to being this short, I think I'd be a punching pouch, rather than a full bag. But I'm there, hanging from the ceiling, and they go back home feeling less angry.

That anger, oh, it started growing inside of me. Sometimes it doesn't show, and I've spent so much time and money fixing it. But it comes, again, occasionally, and I'm met with myself again. In the mirror, I see someone that has been called a freak so many times. I still have this silly habit of covering both my sides with my hands, just to make my figure a little less jiggly and weird. But the stretch marks, my chest that isn't neither flat, nor perfectly positioned (it's a little down, frowning), and if I turn to my side I see my profile view, that sometimes makes me laugh. It's so... silly, I guess. My breasts fall, but my butt is up. Wearing any kind of pants, panties, shorts, and even dresses, is quite a challenge. It just doesn't stay in place. Also, it's troublesome to sit comfortably with this natural pillow. And it's not necessarily pretty, just so big that it's kind of off-putting. Not to talk about my womanhood, which I'd prefer to not have. If I could have been born without anything down there, but still being able to function normally, I guess I would be happier. And the legs I don't shave unless it's been over half a year, with knees that sometimes don't function properly and feet that are so tiny and still child-like, that weirdly, I can crack the bone of one foot, but not the other. And they hurt when I walk too much. If I go up again, my hair is so messy. It was supposed to be curly, but I did something wrong, and now it pretends to be straight like I did as a whole during my formative years. No, I guess I still am not out to many people. Haaa. I still do pretend. There are bags under my eyes that are quite pretty, actually, but just... eyes... My eyebrows are quite thick, and I don't mind it. I like flickering my eyelashes when I want to fall asleep, and, honestly, mascara makes me feel heavy. My ears, nothing to talk about them, but they hurt after wearing glasses + headphones all day. My nose is quite big, and I don't mind the size, but I feel embarrassed about the blackheads. My mouth is kinda cute, sometimes it looks like a little heart and my lips aren't extremely plump, but also not the thinnest thing. I kinda like it, but no matter what I do, lipstick never stays on. I think my lips are too moist. My teeth are quite wonky, my bite is not that perfect. I still haven't been able to have my wisdom teeth grow, and there's a lot of space between some teeth for them. I'm just waiting. My skin is rather pink than white, and honestly I feel like a little pig sometimes. Can't help but think otherwise. I mean it in a cute way, but I notice my own sadness and tone. I learned to be mean to myself in many ways. My hands are as small as my feet... the rest functions well, but it's big. Belly, forearms... just... too big. I'm not pretty, I think. Maybe my face. And maybe I'm cute, like a kid. But not an adult-like cute.

There's also the allergies. My skin can't take much, so it doesn't matter if it's pretty or not: it does not function. They say it's due to stress and, honestly? I get it. It is stressful. Still, there's something about your own body. It takes you to places. Most of the time. It breathes, it pumps blood, it eats, digests food and then expels the rest. It sleeps. And, well, as sick as my depressed, bipolar and obsessive-compulsive brain is, my creativity is there, right? Deeeeeeep there, it's a fun place. But, overall, I'd get the worst ratings. I don't stand out in a good way, and I don't have money or will to buy stylish clothes. Although I have quite some etiquette, I'm forever going to be an outsider, so the way I speak and the way I act is always going to be a downside to many.

Now, I could change. I could deprive myself of the few things that make me happy: eating and laying down. I could learn how to speak in another accent, and I could become a fascinating person. Like, it isn't impossible. I could even get my face done, and look different. No puffy, childish, rosy cheeks that hide my eyes when I smile. I could put make-up on, wear body cream, and my elbows and my feet wouldn't feel so rough to the touch. I could even smile more, be nicer or meaner, I could enjoy Christmas and I could call my grandma more. I could quit this graduation and start doing something with math or science, and I could have other political views, and I could not be who I am, entirely. And I still know, for a fact, that I would be a punching bag. A punchable face, a punchable heart, a punchable body. I'm the bearer of this. I'm a hoarder of problems that aren't even mine. But if you look at me, you'll feel this need to treat me so unwell. And as I, from an early age, felt the need to mirror others, I started doing the same. I looked at myself and I punched all I was, both figuratively and literally. And I'm brought back to that rainy day. And I'm brought back to every bullying session, and to every argument, and to every mean word, and to every objectification, and to every uneasy and unsafe moment. But, today, I want to go back home for once. To where I belong. Whatever or wherever it is. I need to take myself there. I recall a few of the houses I’ve lived in. There was this one next to my grandmother’s house, that doesn’t exist anymore. The apartment where I had my first pet (that hated me). My grandma’s house. That two-story house. The one I was friends with the landlord’s granddaughter… there were others, my mother tells me, but I don’t recall them. My whole life, I studied in three different schools. Some worse than others, but none were great experiences. And after I moved, only one University and two workplaces. I’ve been to various churches, and many other places, despite living for about 17 years of my life in a small town. Still, I never belong to any of these houses, schools, churches or communities. I’ve always been just me, with people unable to explain much about me, and the adjectives being quite lost in space. Fluttering, even. It’s not the case that I’ve found a place yet, thus I can’t tell you with a smile that “Now I belong”. Despite finally having friends, it’s nothing like a family (to which I also don’t belong to). I’m not dating nor do I have children, no pets, maybe a few collections here and there, but nothing that you can touch for too long, nothing that isn’t boring after a while, nothing to cry on, nothing to sleep with (in the most innocent way), nothing to hug, nothing to cook or shop for, nothing to care after. Nothing that needs me to live. No home to go back to, no home. Of course, houseless I’m not, thankfully, but home… maybe my room feels a little comfortable, but there’s the cleaning OCD. My skin doesn’t feel mine, my brain and my heart don’t relate to each other, my image isn’t my imagination – I am, but who am I?

I’d love to have someone to answer all of my worries. But I’ve tried therapy and as much as it doesn’t harm me, it doesn’t fulfill this need. Someone who’s going to look at me, inside and outside, and will tell what’s wrong, what’s right, what’s bad, what’s good, what and how I can change. And yet, I don’t know if I’ll accept it. Maybe it’s good that I don’t know. Well, I have my suppositions, but I don’t wish to believe them forever. Deep inside, I want to go home, to myself. I think about it quite often. When I’m shopping, when I’m eating, when I’m leisurely watching TV, when I take breaks from work. I wish I had myself more. Rely on me. Trust me. Love me. I get caught up on that. I try to think why it’s such a chore to consider myself worthy of my own affection, and yet it doesn’t make sense, whatever I come up with. Every six months I’ll have a huge breakdown and say “I’ll love myself this time!”, but in two days I’ll be mean to myself once again and care so deeply about every little mistake.

— Heeeey, Lily. — Oh, they were calling. I got a bachelor’s degree in Japanese, thinking I’d be able to become a full time translator, but I ended up becoming a full time teacher and part-time translator instead. I mean, I still have time to make my name, but the bills keep coming. The school I work at is, well, troubled. I don’t like the people that much, but I like teaching. No. I’m good at teaching. And being good makes me happy. I don’t thoroughly enjoy it. It’s my ego. I don’t belong here either, I’m not like my coworkers. But I have to be here, kind of. — Are you listening?

— Huh? Uh, yeah.

— So, answer it?

— Answer what?

— God, you never listen! — I don’t get why you need to talk during lunch break when you already talk all day. — We were sayiiiiing, do you have a boyfriend?

— Yeah. — I learned to lie. No need to come out, just lie. When I was still in Uni, it was fine to say “I’m focusing on studying”, but after I graduated I learned people started worrying too much about me not being with someone. So I just made up a boyfriend, and then I show a photo of a random J-Idol, and they buy it.

— When did you meet him?

— Uni. Well, excuse me, I’ll go brush my teeth. — I didn’t want to participate anymore. They’d ask more questions, and I was afraid I would get lost in my own thread of lies. I wanted to die, honestly, whenever anyone talked to me. Well, the students were fine, but the rest was just borderline impossible to keep up with. After doing my hygiene, I went to the room where we keep all the materials and supplies, trying to avoid the teacher’s room. One of my students, one of the older ones, came to me.

— Senseiiiii, are you free tonight?

— Hmm… I don’t have any plans in particular, but…

— Then, wanna come sing at the karaoke with us?

— Well… — Honestly, I enjoyed singing. I wasn’t skilled, but I loved music a lot. Still, going out with other people bothered the hell out of me. You have to go where everyone wants to, you can’t eat messily, I need to hear others’ bad singing, I need to be adequate and people need to enjoy it. — sorry, I just remembered Tae-Sensei wants me to work on a project for the school.

— Oh… okay, but if you change your mind, please come with us!

— Will do. Thank you, Micchan. — I appreciated it, honestly, but I didn’t want to be a part of it. It always happens that they think I’m not enough, and then I try so hard that I bore myself out, and then I hate them. It’s better if I miss out.

The rest of the day went by easily. But, I felt like going to the karaoke, so I’ll probably do it next week. Singing is good to cleanse the soul and gives you excuses to stay home the other day. I stopped by at the convenience store to buy myself a drink and an ice cream, or anything else that made me a little happy that day. I was trying to reach for a particular product, when I dropped almost half of the shelf. A girl in uniform, who was just done putting it there, started laughing at me. I thought she would get mad…? But she was making fun of me, right?

— I-I’m really sorry.

— It’s okay. Sorry for laughing, today was boring.

— Y-yeah… it was. Do you need help with it?

— Nope. That’s my work, don’t worry.

— Sorry again.

— Don’t be.

— Right, I’m sorry. — She looked at me, confused, then I was also confused. — Sorry.

— Please stop apologizing. Don’t say “sorry” for it again.

— I want to say it. And I’m… I’m sorry for not being able to stop myself. Sorry. Again. Fuck! — It made her laugh again.

— Why don’t you buy some alcohol? You sound like you need to get wasted.

— I’ve tried, but I can’t. I’m too scared of what I might become. Also, I take medicine, so I can’t drink.

— Huh? Well, okay… have a good night, then.

— You too. — I hurried to the register. That was, uh, an odd interaction. I just can’t help but be myself, right? I’m such a mess, I think. I’m skilled, and I know lots of stuff, but I can’t stop being sorry for just existing. What a life.

I arrived at my apartment and heated up my leftovers. Maybe tomorrow I could order a pizza or something, or I could try cooking a nice meal. I wasn’t always a mess. When it came to myself and only myself, I knew how to deal with stuff. But when it involved others, I was either too much or not enough. I was never just right, and I was never happy, and I never made anyone happy.

I ate, took a shower and cleaned my stuff (OCD, again) with alcohol. Well, I guess I was an alcoholic in a way. I couldn’t live without my spray bottle with that cleaning solution. Then, I sat on my bed. That summer was being rough, and I had no other option but to be in my panties and a top, with my window slightly opened. I had no fan or AC, because, well, the last one broke, and I kept forgetting to buy a new one. That didn’t matter for long, because I saw on my phone that my favorite singer had posted new content, and I wanted to check it out. After I gulped it down, I started watching older stuff of hers, and then I proceeded to ignore messages from my family.

The last time I talked to my parents… it was quite a while ago. Well, we had so many arguments, honestly. It was so abusive, with the excuses “We love you”, and “We’re trying our best”, but always threatening to me. I grew tired, and although I struggled now and then, I could feed myself and pay rent on my own. So I stopped talking to them. I had blocked them, but now they would message me through other numbers. I blocked them all, but one day, I just stopped. I let it be. It felt like I wanted them to know I saw they were reaching for me, but that I was ignoring them — the exact same thing I’ve been through during all the times they’ve failed to protect me. Was I a terrible child? Definitely. But I had my reasons.

I sighed, and sighed, partially because of how hot it was. Tomorrow was Saturday, so I could be myself and be there for myself. In a sense, I could be mine and just mine. If I wanted to go out, I could go on my own, and if I wanted to stay home, I could go to the kitchen, living room, or to the bathroom and no one else would bother me as opposed to being locked inside my room. I doom scrolled until my eyes got watery and tired, and then I knew it was time to sleep. I went to the bathroom once again, drank some water, turned off the lights, but I let the window open. “Tomorrow, I’ll buy a fan”, I thought, knowing well I’d forget about it. Then, I lied down, stretched, flickered my eyelashes, breathed in and out, counted sheep, daydreamed, and only fell asleep when I turned to my side. I don’t recall my dreams. My Friday went like that, just as the past Fridays of the last two years, and how the next two years will go. Probably. Things might get worse, but will they ever get better?

I finally bought that fan, but it didn’t come with batteries. It was already vacations, so, yes, I took some time. I went out to buy some, and I saw myself going to that same convenience store again. I met that girl again — and, well, I had before, but we never talked again — and she always seemed to laugh at me. I wondered if it was my figure? My expression? It didn’t look like she was being mean, not even careless. It looked like she was having fun. I don't know if I envy her, or if I'm mad at her, or if I'm just slightly annoyed. I feel too much, and I feel it all at once. I think she's trying to be friendly, but I can bring myself to like or understand her. She's the one who works here, and I'm a clumsy customer, and she meets many clumsy customers, and I'll eventually go to many stores. Or just a few ones, it doesn't matter. In the end, this is how it feels. It's summer vacation now, I don't have to go to work, I barely have any friends, I don't want to spend time with my family, and it doesn't matter. It mattered for a long time, but now I don't care anymore. I wonder what or who was the breaking point. Maybe it was during high school. Maybe a little later. It wasn't just all at once, but I gradually started not caring. Sometimes I'll care. And I'll be sorry, like that day. But today, I don't care anymore. If she sees me as a terrible, useless person, or if she laughs at me, it doesn't matter. It might affect my respect at work if it goes further than this. But she's just a mere worker, and I'm another mere worker, from worlds that don't mix, though, and she doesn't even know my name. She knows I dropped a half a shelf of products on the ground, and she knows I apologized over and over, but she doesn't know the things my father said to me, and she doesn't know how they used to treat me when I was eight years old. We're strangers, and she thinks alcohol could help me, she doesn't even know I can't have it. She doesn't know me, I owe nothing to her, it doesn't matter, I don't care, she could die right now, and I wouldn't cry or be worried. Right? I think so. I don't know. I don't want her to die. If she died, it would be troublesome. I don't want her to die. But I won't mourn it. I won't think about it. Maybe once. Or twice. Or three times. But never four. And never for too long. It doesn't matter, it just doesn't matter, it does not matter. I swear to God it fucking doesn't matter to me anymore.

Tumblr doesn't allow me to post the rest here, so please read the rest through this link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51663571/chapters/130600915

[fallinfl0wers]

hellooo! this is the first time i request something from a blog :D could i request headcanons of diluc, scara, kazuha and xiao when their s/o tells them they're pregnant and possibly how they'd get used to having a kid? tyy! dont forget to take breaks and relax!

Literally baby-sized trouble.

summary: you're pregnant! how does he react to the news and how do the get used to your child? includes: diluc (26 bullet points), scaramouche (24 bullet points), kazuha (17 bullet points) and xiao (35 bullet points) warnings: fem!reader, pregnancy, children, non-explicit/non described giving birth, mostly fluff with a little bit of hurt/comfort and angst. format: headcanons thank you for your request!! this was so fun to write! >< imagining the characters being soft with children is just so cute :") i specially like these four a lot >< when i wrote this i was in a xiao mood if it wasn't obvious that his turned out longer than everyone else's lol, and it's also the first time i write for kazuha so it was shorter than the others, but i think his is the sweetest ><! i hope you enjoy it! ps. the names and meanings- i got them from google, feel free to correct me if there's anything wrong with them ><

Diluc

He's going to stop functioning the moment he hears the news from you.

Literally, he's still as a rock and completely taken by surprise.

He... can't say he'd never wanted children. He's pretty traditional and, since he has this beautiful relationship with you, he assumed it might happen sometime in the future.

But oops guess it will have to happen in the close future, since you're already pregnant.

After staring at you with widened eyes for a while, he speaks up: "...is... is it true?" You hold his hands on yours with a smile on your face, nodding. "Yes, Diluc. We're going to be parents." Hearing your words, he starts to tear up as he hugs you, his touch almost hesitant, as if you were so fragile he could break you if he wasn't careful. "...thank you." He'd whisper between silent tears, hiding his face from your sight.

Very supportive and very protective!

You will have the most comfortable of pregnancies. He will make sure you don't need to move a single muscle to get anything you want.

If the two of you aren't married or engaged yet, he's going to propose to you very soon, keep that in mind ><

He starts reading every book he can find on pregnancies and babies so that he knows what to do to help you when you give birth and how to take care of his child once they're born ><

You have to convince him that yes, you can go and eat in the dining room and you don't need to eat everything in your room or stay in bed all day and yes, you can still do most things and no, he doesn't have to worry so much.

But yeah, in later stages of your pregnancy he gets more overprotective because he doesn't want anything to hurt you or your baby :(

He couldn't be calm enough while you gave birth and had to wait outside of the room, which only made him more nervous </3

But when he finally held your little baby on his arms for the first time, he broke down crying.

You two had a boy! He looked a lot like him, too... with the red hair and eyes... so cute...

He's not sure of what to name him, he'd thought of some names before, but they all disappeared when he saw the little bundle of joy in his arms;;

So you two will have to think about a name again!

In the end, you settle for Felix; name meaning "happy" or "lucky"!

Diluc is a very busy man, but he still does his best to be there for you and his son as much as possible!

He's also not very sure as to how he should interact with him...

But he does know he LOVES playing with him as soon as he starts to understand how to play with his toys.

But... there are not so cute parts about having a kid, after all.

At times, he worries whether or not he'll be able to be there enough for him.

He wonders if he can be a good father, given how awkward he is with his emotions.

What if when Felix grows up he starts hating him for being absent? He wouldn't be able to stand it.

You always reassure him as you both put the baby to sleep on his crib.

All Diluc wants is for his son to have a happy childhood and a loving family, but worries he won't be good enough of a father.

However, when Felix's first word is "'iluc!" as he stretches out his tiny arms towards him, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he can do this right.

Scaramouche

He thought you were joking, so he laughed.

When you didn't laugh along with him and was met with your blank face, he understood you were serious.

He never even thought he'd be with anyone in a relationship before you came along, let alone have a child with anyone... So he's obviously very shocked and confused as to how to proceed.

After an awkward moment of staring at each other, he cleared his throat and crossed his arms, looking at you with an equally blank face. "So? What do you want me to do about it?" "H-huh?" "In the sense of- what do you want to do? Keep it or not." You huffed, and when he heard your determinated answer, he sighed and gave your head some soft pats. "Alright, alright, whatever you want, I guess."

Okay listen here- it's not like doesn't care but it isn't like he cares so much either...

This man would do anything for you, really, and that's what happens.

He does anything and everything for you, because he's worried about you and not necessarily about the baby you're carrying.

It's not like he hates children- because you can't hate anything you don't perceive as equal or superior to you and a baby ceirtainly isn't either for him-

It's more like he doesn't know what to do with them because he's never been around children enough to understand them.

He's overall very indifferent towards the child ngl.

Then he sees you cradling your baby -a girl- in your arms and his mind just... goes blank. Huh, so that's what a human looks like right after being born.

Your little daughter looks more like him than she looks like you, sorry. But he can clearly see on her face some factions that will look like yours as she grows up.

But...

"Now what?"

He'll help you look after her however he can, since he doesn't want you to be too tired because he never knows when he'll have to leave for weeks or even months without notice.

He's not entirely cold or indifferent towards her, even if sometimes he might resent her a bit for taking away some of your attention.

But like when you were choosing a name for her, he gave a few suggestions and in the end you choose one of the names he thought of!

Her name is Hikari, name meaning "light"!

Due to the nature of his job, he doesn't want to be seen around either of you at the moment in public. It would only put a target on your backs.

And it takes a long, long while for him to warm up to her.

It disheartens you a little, but when you see him looking down at Hikari's sleeping form on the crib, softly poking her cheek with a strangely child-like curiosity on his eyes, you feel at ease.

And he thinks that he can probably handle this parenting thing better than he ever expected. Maybe it's not that bad, after all.

Ceirtainly, he thinks, as he holds her in his arms one day after she spoke her first word to him, this parenting thing is not really that bad.

(Her first word was "papa!")

Be ready, because once he gets attached to your daughter he won't stop spoiling her!

Kazuha

"Are you sure, love?" "Yes, I'm sure. We're having a child!" A smile painted itself on his face as he leaned in to kiss your forehead. "I hope I can be a good father for them."

So the Kaedehara family is getting a new member, huh!

Not that there's much left to his name, especially now that he's a fugitive... but he's excited nonetheless!

Although he's not one to settle down for long, he will make an effort for both you and the child, since it's not good for someone who's pregnant to wander around.

He's very protective, but not in an overbearing way! He simply wants you to take it easy and relax, he can take care of everything else on his own!

That being said, he's not rich like Diluc or Scaramouche, so he's also going to work harder than ever to get everything you or the baby need in advance so that neither of you have to stress out!

He's the one who takes it better out of everyone here, he's not extremely worried or outright indifferent, he's simply worried enough, excited and happy!

He already knew you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, so the idea of having a child with you didn't scare him or intimidate him in the slightest!

He's still a bit worried, though.

He is a wanted fugitive in his homeland, after all...

He can only do so much and wish for the situation in Inazuma to change soon, so that he can take both you and his child to see the places he loved to spend his time at when he was a child.

But for now, he's happy enough simply holding his child on his arms, sitting next to you in your small shared home.

You have a girl too! She has Kazuha's hair color and your eye color, she's super adorable ><

He wants you to name her, and you both agree on naming her Izumi, meaning fountain or spring!

"Kaedehara Izumi... it has a nice ring to it." He'd say, smiling down at her.

While Kazuha enjoys travelling more than anything in this world, he's reticent to leave you and your daughter alone or even bring you along with him. So he stays around for as long as you need it.

He will talk a lot to her all the time, so don't be surprised when she picks up very complicated, flowery words from a young age!

He wants her to grow up to be free as the wind and be able to do whatever she wants without fear, so he wants to do his best to be a good father for her!

Xiao

You can practically see the panic on his face when you tell him the news.

It's the most scared you've ever seen him be, and you've been there to help him through his karmic debt.

So yeah, he takes it the worst out of everyone.

"I'm not mad." He manages to tell you before disappearing to somewhere else in a panicked haze, he needs to sort out his emotions quickly before he can properly talk to you about it. The last thing he saw before he disappeared was your eyes, glinting with sadness. And that only made him feel worse if that was even possible.

It takes him the whole day to come to terms with his feelings on your pregnancy and finally face you again.

He's really, really afraid of hurting you and your child. Not to mention he fears he might've passed some kind of curse from his karma to either of you through the pregnancy :(

Like he said, he isn't mad. He's just scared.

He... he literally never, never thought he would get to be a father.

Family was a foreign concept to him, as were a lot of other things you've slowly helped him understand throughout your time together, so knowing he can have one of his own now... makes him happy, and scared, at the same ime.

He's worse than Diluc when it comes to protecting you and worrying about you.

He won't let you do anything alone, even if he doesn't want to be near you because he doesn't want the karma to harm you or your child in such a vulnerable moment of your lives.

Okay so that aside-

How do people care for babies?

What is he exactly supposed to do?

And- do half-adepti babies need any sort of special treatment in comparison to human babies?

He has no idea on what to do if it doesn't involve a physical fight with a tangible foe, so he goes asking for advice to everyone he knows that could have knowledge on that field.

Verr Goldet and Ganyu are a great help for him. Xiao listens with attention to everything they have to say and asks everything he doesn't understand.

Ganyu tells him about her own experience growing up as half-human so that he can understand what raising a half-human, half-illuminated beast baby might entail.

He also goes to Zhongli for advice and he gets more of the same advice he's already heard, along with many, many reassurances that sound like everything you already tell him every day.

He's very worried, but as the months go by and your child's birth comes closer, he can't help but feel a little excited about it.

Everyone who knows him is happy to see him openly happy for a change on those small moments when he gets excited about his new family with you.

When your child is born, Xiao doesn't want to hold him. It took too much willpower to stay as close as he was right now, standing next to your bed as you held your baby in your arms.

He was so adorable, so small, so fragile, so pure- Xiao was afraid of touching him and breaking or tainting him--

He was already crying, he'd started crying the moment he saw you holding your son for the first time.

He feels so... strange. He's crying, but this isn't a painful, or sad feeling. He feels... happy, but scared, but...

The feeling starts to make some sense to him when he finally convinces himself that it's okay for him to hold the little boy in his arms, when he stares with awe at his face.

The baby looks a lot like the both of you. Arguably, more like him, since he has the same hair and the same bright eyes, but in his face all he can see is you.

And he cries more.

You both named him Liàng, name meaning brilliant!

Xiao does his best to try and get used to parenting, and it gets hard at times.

But he tries, and that's all that matters. He tries to be a good father, and is always there to protect both you and your son from anything trying to harm you.

Even though he was so scared at first, you know he loves the new family you've formed together.

Especially when you catch him trying to hold a conversation with your son, sitting down on the bed next to him as he toys with a soft teddy bear, the two of them surrounded by pillows.

The soft look and smile he wears while he does so tells you that everything is going to be alright.

The three of you are going to be alright, and Xiao wants to make sure of it.

His son will never have to live what he lived or see what he saw. He will make sure of that, no matter what.

[jackrrabbit]

Adversary /// Overhaul x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: You make a deal with the devil to save your life, but it turns out Overhaul’s not interested in your soul.

A/N: Remember when I said I was going to do a fantasy collab and then dipped for like 9 months? Hahaha…anyway…

@pleasantanathema @ present-mel @shadowworks—if it’s not too late, here’s my part for the Pleasant & Strider Fantasy AU Writing Collab from a million years ago. Go check out the masterlist and gorge yourself on these amazing pieces!!

Tags/Warnings: dubcon, demon fuckery & occult things, big heresy/sacrilege/perversion of religion, sex in a church ft. Catholic sex guilt, other than that it’s not that bad lol, inexperienced reader, mild degradation, shameless camp and demon-fucking clichés, Overhaul calls you “little girl” 👉👈

He doesn’t look like a demon.

Not that you really know what demons are supposed to look like. But…red skin, right? Fangs and claws and swirling masses of bad energy. Maybe cloven hooves for feet. Yes, that’s the Disney version—but even if you didn’t expect a cartoon personification of evil, you didn’t expect this.

He looks like a doctor, you think. Lab coat hanging open, surgery mask pushed down under his jaw, stethoscope draped over his shoulders. No, he’s a little young to really look like a doctor…an intern, you amend, shifting back in your hospital bed. He looks like he fits right in here, not a hair out of place. Except for, you know, the polished black horns curling out of the sides of his skull.

Overhaul. It was written in the book. That’s the only thing you have to call him in your head.

He’s standing in the center of the sigil you drew at the foot of your bed before midnight, surveying the room critically without meeting your gaze. He looks annoyed—that’s not a good sign, is it?—but then again, of course he’s annoyed. You’d be annoyed too if you got summoned out of your cozy hell dimension in the middle of the night. According to the book, you’re lucky he even showed up…although ‘lucky’ isn’t really how you’d describe yourself most days.

“So,” Overhaul says after a long moment of silence in which you question every choice you’ve made in your relatively short life. “You’re dying.”

You nod.

“And you don’t want to be.”

You nod again, wondering if you’re supposed to be contributing more to this conversation. It’s a bit difficult when your mouth is so dry it feels like you’ve been eating dirt, but you suppose being in the presence of an unholy servant of Satan will do that to a person.

“Fine.” He sighs, frowns, and then finally lowers his gaze onto yours—and you shiver.

Those eyes. No human has eyes like that.

“Make me an offer,” Overhaul tells you, and through his open mouth you catch a flash of sharp white teeth.

Okay. Okay. The chirping of the heart monitor speeds up (as if it weren’t obvious enough that you’re terrified) and you fold your knees up to your chest and fidget with your ring and think. He’s giving you a chance to establish parameters. You’re supposed to start with his end of the deal, the thing you want from him. That’s what it said to do in the grimoire, aka the 19th century demonology volume your creepy cousin brought back from her pagan anthropology research trip in rural France. The one you keep hidden under your bed because your mother would burn it if she knew you were reading about summoning demons.

Offer nothing to a hell creature without first telling him your price. You know the words by heart, both the winding calligraphy of the original French from the grimoire and the rushed scrawl of the English translation your cousin left for you in sheets of lined paper layered between the pages of the book for you to read. Really, this is her fault. She was the one who slipped you the book, who told you that it worked, who snuck you the ingredients for the summoning. She was the one who left a bookmark at the chapter on this particular demon, one that specializes in ‘Contrat pour Remédier au Déséquilibre des Quatre Humeurs’, which she said meant a contract to cure any illness. Even his ‘name’ is translated in her hand, practically an afterthought in the margins of the page.

‘Le Malin qui Ravage et Rebâtit’— Overhaul?

You looked up the literal meaning of this phrase on your own. It did not reassure you.

“Girl.” His voice is cold, irate. Your eyes snap back up to his and it feels like that burning gaze is laser-beaming into your skull. “Do not test me. My time is limited…as is yours.”

You swallow. “How long do I have left?”

“Less than a single human year,” he tells you without a trace of sympathy. “Seven months, twelve days, three hours. Or so. You’ll be too exhausted to leave this bed in four months, and the pain will become intolerable in six… By the end, you’ll wish—“

“Stop,” you breathe out. The heart monitor is beeping wildly and you squeeze your knees into your chest, trying to calm down your breathing. “Stop, I—I want to live.”

“Of course you do.” Overhaul’s lip curls. “How very predictable.”

Be specific, you remind yourself, doing your best to ignore the stifling disapproval from the man—the demon—in front of you. Something about him (maybe how clean-cut he looks, maybe the indisputable authority in his demeanor) makes you want to impress him. But you didn’t turn your back on your religion—you didn’t draw pagan symbols on the floor in chalk, fill silver cups with various questionable substances (including your own virgin blood), and turn the crucifix your mother hung over your bed upside-down so you could let a demon make you feel guilty for wanting to survive. “I want to be cured. I’m okay with whatever natural death I have instead when I’m older, I just don’t want to die of this illness. I want you to make me healthy.”

“Simple enough. What else?”

‘Simple’? Your heart surges with something you’ve felt very little of since your initial diagnosis—hope. “T-That’s it. Just the cure.”

Overhaul glares at you. “Humans… Every vice in the world available to you, and you limit yourselves to the basest priority of survival.”

“But you can do it? You can cure me?” you persist.

Overhaul steps forward (quiet, so quiet you wonder if he really moved) and holds a hand out to you past the foot of your bed—you hesitate, and a second later you can see the muscles in his hand flex, stretching the latex of his plastic gloves tight over his knuckles.

Just do it. You give him your hand. Carefully. Like you’re scared the contact will burn you. It doesn’t (although his skin feels warmer than yours), but after a moment his grip tightens, sliding down past your hand to circle the fragile bones of your wrist and squeeze.

“Ow?” You wince.

The demon’s eyes flicker closed for a second, lips moving silently like he’s talking to himself—and then he drops your hand unceremoniously back onto your lap. “You could be cured before the sun rises this morning. I doubt your stay in the hospital will extend past the end of the week.”

He sounds bored, voice as flat and passionless as it was earlier, but your heart is soaring. Cured. You’ve lived with this illness for so many years, you can’t remember the last time someone told you you could be cured. And getting out of the hospital that soon? You can just imagine taking down all the decorations from the walls of your room here and setting them up in your old bedroom at home. You could see friends on the weekend and not take an oxygen bag, you could get a job or—or apply to college, you could have a life—

“That is…assuming you have something to offer me in exchange for the cure.”

Your stomach drops. You’d almost forgotten about the other half of the deal.

“Don’t tell me I came all this way for nothing.” Overhaul steps back, and the orange light of the candles you set sends strange shadows over his arrogant face. The fires look brighter now, and you find yourself tracing the lines of those shining black horns. In an odd way, they look natural—so organically framing his temples that you can’t imagine him without them.

“N-No, of course not. I have some money—I mean, my mom has some, and I can get it for you…” Which is half the truth. If you know anything, it’s that your mother’s spent most of her savings on your treatment and care. You probably have more debt than you have money in the bank right now—you’d try to get rid of that, too, if you hadn’t read in the book how important it is to keep your request as simple and straightforward as possible.

…Although it’s apparently not enough. Overhaul’s eyes narrow, molten gold irises carved into slits. “Even if I had a use for human money, do you really believe your life is worth so little?”

“No—no,” you say quickly. “I just thought—in case you were interested—”

The air crackles with energy, the candle flames spark bright blood-red, and the hair on your arms stands straight up. “I am not.”

“Okay! I get it.” You wave your hands back and forth, pulling your IV line from side to side with the motion. The book was very clear about staying calm and rational while you work out the terms of the deal, but that’s easier said than done when you have a real live (live?) hell creature in front of you. You always knew this was going to be the hard part—all the stories say there’s only one thing that a demon would be interested in, and no matter how inviting the prospect of living past this illness is, you know you’d rather die than sell your immortal soul to the devil. “I’ll give you anything except my soul! And—and don’t hurt anyone I care about, or— just don’t hurt anyone, okay? Other than that, if there’s anything I can give you, I will.”

Overhaul’s lip curls, baring a thin strip of those unnaturally sharp canines. “And is your soul really so valuable?”

This throws you for a loop. Isn’t that the standard deal? A soul for a wish? That’s how it’s supposed to work—at least in this twisted version of reality where you can summon a demon to perform unholy miracles for you. But if you think about it, it doesn’t really make sense, does it? Why would your soul be valuable to him? You can’t form an argument, especially since you’re not willing to barter it away in the first place.

Your mouth is pursed open as you search for a response, but Overhaul doesn’t seem willing to wait. A gloved hand wraps its way around the railing at the side of your bed, and he leans in closer. “Little girl…what makes you think you possess anything I desire?”

Little girl. You’re not a little girl, you’re a grown woman—and yet there’s no untruth in the statement. In front of him you feel insignificant, immature, weak. You have nothing real to offer, and something tells you that you’re not going to get rid of the demon you summoned without a sacrifice you’re not willing to make.

You twist your ring around your finger—the nervous habit you haven’t bothered to break because you’ve always had more important things to worry about—and the glint of silver in the candlelight must catch Overhaul’s eye because before you even notice him moving, your delicate hand is trapped in his larger one to give him a better view of the tiny piece of jewelry. “What is this?”

“It’s—um, a ring. A purity ring.” Has he never seen one before? Well…actually, that makes sense.

Overhaul turns your hand over in his without touching the band of silver. He’s looking at it closely, inspecting the lovingly engraved cross in the design and the inscription on the other side. “Matthew 5:8,” he reads out.

“…Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God,” you recite cautiously. It feels wrong to speak the words in front of him, but somehow you can’t help yourself.

Overhaul’s hand doesn’t leave yours. “This ring is important to you.”

“It’s a symbol of a—a promise I made to God. To save myself for my future husband.”

“To ‘save yourself’? To save what?”

You can’t believe you’re explaining this to a literal demon. You close your eyes and inhale slowly and taste smoke. “My…virginity. It’s a promise that I won’t have sex until I enter into a biblical marriage.”

At this, Overhaul is quiet. You give him a moment to answer, half expecting him to question why you think God cares about your sexual status (honestly, you’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered this yourself), but he stays quiet until you peek up at him to try and gauge the look on his coldly handsome face.

He’s still staring at the ring. He hasn’t touched it—maybe he can’t, because of the cross?—and through the latex, his skin feels hotter than a human’s is supposed to be.

“Is there…” you start, but you trail off when you realize you have nothing to ask. You give a little tug to try and take your hand away and you’re surprised when your wrist actually slides out of his grip to fall back on the nest of sheets in your lap. You didn’t think he’d let you go so easily.

Overhaul turns his head to the side, eyes drilling into you so you feel like you should lower your gaze. The candlelight flickers in strange shadows over his horns. “This will do,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“In exchange for your cure.” The demon taps his own left ring finger, the place where the purity ring sits on your hand, and your heart soars. He actually wants that? It’s just a simple silver band, not worth much, but you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe it has some special significance because of the religious connotation. Your mother will be angry you’ve lost it, but you’re happy to cope with that if it means living to actually get married!

“Yes!” you blurt out before he has a chance to rethink his offer. Sure, you’ll miss the purity ring—you’ve had it since you were a kid, after all—but there’s no question you’re getting the better end of this deal. At least in your opinion.

Something flashes through his yellow eyes, something you don’t even want to try and identify. “The contract, then.”

You barely have time to notice that his voice has gentled, that it’s practically silken in comparison to before, when the candlelight flickers again and suddenly the contract is everywhere. Everywhere. Writing appears on every surface in the room, covering the walls, stretching over the ceiling, coiling around the sides of the hospital equipment and decorating your bedsheets until you and Overhaul are the only untouched surfaces in sight. The characters are inscribed in red, dark red like—don’t think about that, you tell yourself squeamishly. You can make out some of the letters, even a word here or there—French, you recognize, mixed with what looks like Latin and interspersed with what you can only guess are runes.

“I can’t read this,” you tell him, fidgeting with your ring for what you now realize will be the last time.

“I only need your name,” he purrs, and then you feel a fragile weight in your hand: a feather, pearl-black and glossy and too large to belong to any bird you can think of, its angled tip glistening with wet ink. There’s an empty space in the writing before you, and Overhaul’s gloved hand comes to yours again to guide you into place.

This feels wrong…then again, of course it does. Even if you’re getting off relatively easy and just losing your ring rather than your soul, you’re still making a deal with a demon. You sign your name, forcing yourself to think about the future you have ahead of you rather than a disapproving white-bearded caricature of The Man Upstairs wagging his finger at you for haggling with a literal servant of Satan. People have done worse things to survive, haven’t they? It’s just a ring.

You set the feather down and Overhaul sighs, thick black eyelashes obscuring his intense gaze for a moment—and then the contract is gone, leaving your hospital room as blank and sterile as it’s supposed to be (well, aside from the candles and all the other ritual stuff you threw together to summon a demon in the first place).

“Are you going to cure—heal me now?” you ask.

“…Patience, little girl.” He’s pulling his glove off, peeling it down his fingers to bare the pale skin of his hand. You catch your breath and wonder what this is going to feel like, and then the tips of his fingers meet your cheek and—

you stop breathing.

It doesn’t hurt.

Or if it does, you don’t remember the pain a second later when breath floods back into your lungs. What you do feel is energy. Strength in your muscles, blood pumping through your veins, every inhale and exhale as light as a bird and freer. You feel healthy. You’re surprised you even remember what health feels like but you do: it’s like you’ve only been half alive, and now life is surging into you and through you and around you, bubbling up in your core like a spring overflowing. You blink rapidly, thinking you might cry from the sheer pleasure of it, but when you open your mouth it’s laughter that comes out. You’re healthy. You’re alive. You barely notice the IV line literally falling off of your skin because the hole where it entered your vein is sealed shut and healed perfectly.

No more needles. No more hospitals. Even without all the monitors beeping out your heart rate and measuring your vitals, there’s not a shred of doubt in your mind that you’re cured.

“Thank you!” you laugh, looking up at Overhaul and for the first time, not caring that he’s evil incarnate. “I feel—I’m okay! It worked!”

“Of course it did.” His expression is inscrutable, but he lets you have a few moments to enjoy your newfound health.

You roll your shoulders back, flex each muscle you can isolate one by one to test, make fists with your fingers and then run them over your hair, which is already thicker and shinier than it was a moment ago. Your body thrums with energy—you want to run, to feel the ground against your bare feet and the cold night air on your face, and you think you could do it! Your legs are already swinging over the side of your cot, ready to run barefoot out of the hospital if that’s what it takes, but before you can stand up Overhaul’s pushing you back down onto the bed.

“Have you forgotten your end of the bargain already?”

Honestly you did forget, but only for a second, only because you were so excited to just be outside again. “Oh, yeah. Of course.” Your hand goes to your left ring finger, ready to slip the ring off and hand it over, but Overhaul shakes his head.

“Not here.”

“What—?”

You’re falling. Your hospital room is disappearing, the image of your walls and your window and your bed disintegrating into yawning black, and you’re falling through it into nothing, into emptiness, and Overhaul’s still-bare hand in yours is the only anchor you have so you clutch onto it and squeeze your eyes shut. You want to scream—that’s the sane thing to do when you’re falling through miles and miles of empty space, right?—but when you open your throat the sound is swallowed up just like the light was…

Overhaul’s hand burns into yours, an improbable lifeline that you pull closer more out of terror than conscious thought. The slick, empty air rushes around you and you think I am going to die like this and then, incredibly, as soon as you’ve accepted your imminent demise, you feel your back mold onto a chilled, flat surface, vertebra by vertebra up to the back of your head, as if you’ve been lain down onto it.

Your heart thuds in your ears and you brace for an impact because your body hasn’t quite accepted yet that it’s not falling anymore—but at the same time, you know you’re lying down on something. You pry your fingers away from their vice-grip on Overhaul’s arm and feel around blindly for what’s underneath you, and when it seems reasonably tangible you let yourself open your eyes.

Way above, vaulted dozens of feet over your head, is a ceiling studded with gilt-edged frescoes and stained glass. It’s raining (even though it wasn’t in the hospital, you think) but through the massive panes of colored glass there’s enough oily blue light to make out that you’re in a church.

You’re in a church, with a demon. Isn’t that against the rules?

You sit up stiffly and look over at Overhaul, who’s standing at your side and looking down at you…which is how you realize the soft, cold surface you’ve been deposited onto is the blanket on top of the altar in the sanctuary. “Where...did you take me?”

“You should know this place.”

And you do, when you look around. It’s empty now and you’ve never been here at night, but this is a church your mother would bring you to when you were little, back before the disease got so bad you couldn’t risk traveling to it anymore. This is where you took your purity vow…the ring feels heavy on your hand. “Why—why—“

“I can’t stand human hospitals. Filthy places… How that reek of illness and death doesn’t bother your kind, I’ll never understand.” Overhaul pulls his latex glove back on. He’s dressed differently now, no longer impersonating a doctor—black shirt, black pants, and a…bird mask in red leather and gold. So are you, as a matter of fact. Instead of your hospital gown, you’re in a gauzy white dress that’s already been pushed up to pool around the tops of your thighs.

The slip is too thin for the cold, and you can feel your nipples standing up under the cloth so you fold your arms over your chest and hug yourself. “Why did you take me here?” The sound of your voice echoes off the walls eerily and you wish you hadn’t spoken so loudly. The reflection of your words sounds girlish, nervous.

“I told you. Your side of our contract.” Even in this dark, the angular features of his face are clearly concentrating—on you. “Are you already having second thoughts? Such a fickle little thing…”

“You mean the ring?” You reach for it again, ready to tear it off and throw it at him if that’s what it takes to see your deal through, but Overhaul snatches your hand away, pinning it above you.

“Not the ring,” he says. “The promise.”

The…promise?

A chill makes its way down your spine despite the heat radiating off the demon’s body and onto yours. “I don’t understand.”

“The promise,” Overhaul repeats—and you hear a sound almost like wings flapping and then he’s on the altar with you, knees straddling your hips as a single hand holds both your wrists above your head. “To remain a virgin until marriage. Your promise to God.”

A streak of lightning cracks down on the other side of the stained glass window behind the altar, illuminating the room briefly in spectacular pits of red and orange and yellow…and then it’s dark again, and the only color you can make out is the gold in Overhaul’s eyes.

“I’m going to break it,” he murmurs, lowering his head toward your ear right as the answering thunder rolls through the sanctuary, up through the altar, up into you.

///

Méfiez-vous de son piège, the grimoire said. Beware of the catch.

Of course it wasn’t just a ring.

Overhaul’s fingers are in—inside you, his middle and ring finger pumping through the length of your cunt like they belong there, like you were made to be touched this way. A mixture of your juices and your own spit cling to the latex because he made you suck his fingers before he put them in you and he hasn’t bothered to take his gloves off—not that you asked. You’ve been too busy biting your lip to try and muffle the moans that he keeps forcing out of you. He’s bracing himself on top of you with one hand and fingering you with the other, so your own hands are free to push into your eyes and hide your face…until he yanks your arm back and stops.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes are screwed shut and you shake your head back and forth, the movement shuddering your whole body right down to your pussy wrapped around Overhaul’s fingers. He slows the movement and kneels back, pushing one of your thighs up into your chest as he does it.

“Look at me.”

And you’re not sure whether it’s some unearthly power he has over you or the plain old deterioration of your willpower, but you can’t refuse him. You crack your eyes open and he’s glaring down at you, skin pale as ice in the blue light. Once he’s satisfied that you’re watching, the demon leans back in to fuck your cunt with his fingers, slowly at first and then quicker when he hits something inside of you—a spot, a place on the inner wall of your pussy that makes you feel like you’ve been shocked— heat blooms through you like blood in water and you gasp and he curls his fingers up to pet over that spot again.

“Wait—wait, that’s—it feels—weird!” You’ve never felt like this before. You’re not supposed to feel like this, it’s wrong.

“I understand you’ve never touched yourself, but don’t pretend you don’t like it.” Overhaul says, voice as indifferent and calm as ever even though your cunt is dripping clear sticky liquid over the plastic of his glove.

He pushes back in and grinds his palm over the little button on the top of your pussy—your clit?—and you want to scream. “No, I—I don’t—nnhh...”

Do you like it? The demon’s body is so hot next to yours, like he’s running a fever except you’re the one going out of your mind… You’ve heard metaphors for sexual pleasure before (that it’s like having something to drink when you’re dying of thirst; or that it’s the ultimate act of intimacy, love in physical form) but all of that’s a fucking lie. There’s nothing to compare it to, no reference that makes sense, because it doesn’t make sense—you don’t even want him to keep going, do you? You’re only doing this because you signed your name on a devil’s contract, because you don’t want to die and there’s no alternative…but that doesn’t explain why you feel so warm from the inside out, why you’re squirming and your hips are rocking involuntarily no matter how much you try to keep still. This isn’t right. You feel like you’ve been lied to.

A good girl wouldn’t like this.

Overhaul isn’t going to let you close your eyes, so you don’t—but the sounds coming out of your mouth are so…indecent (and how can you think these things about yourself? the word feels like someone else is saying it when you hear it in your head) that your hand is drifting up to your mouth before you can stop yourself, trying to stifle all of it…

“Let your voice out. I want you to hear yourself moan.”

Long fingers slide their way out of your pussy and then move up to rub quick little circles around your clit and you moan, like a whore, like a girl getting her cunt rubbed by a demon— “Oh, uhhhn—something, it’s—coming—“ There’s something building up in your core—a peak, a climax, something that makes you fist your hands in the nightgown he put you in (so tight you’re surprised the thin fabric hasn’t torn) and tilt your hips up into him, begging without words because you don’t have any to express what your body is asking for…

But he doesn’t give it to you. Overhaul takes his hand away from your pussy and the shock of the cool air after his too-hot touch is almost enough to send you over that edge—almost. Not quite. And without it, you’re left shivering and quaking, thighs twitching as your baser instincts beg you to just put your hand between your legs for once and hump your fingers to completion if the demon won’t do it.

You’re not going to risk that, though. Not when Overhaul’s dragging your body closer, bunching up the blanket on the altar under your spine, so your pelvis is angled to his… He’s already shirtless and you hear him unzipping his pants but you can’t bring yourself to actually look at him, even when you feel something hard and hot nudging up against your inner thigh and then aligning to your sticky wet slit.

“This will hurt a bit, but I want you to look,” he says, and you don’t even understand at first until you make yourself feel it—his cock, pushing up against your tight cunt to finish this, this perversion of what your first time was supposed to be…

And what was it supposed to be? Roses and candles and soft kisses? A nameless, faceless husband unzipping your wedding dress and making love to you with the lights off? The way the demon touches you should be cruel in comparison but it isn’t, it’s lighting fires under your skin and turning your brains to mush, so how is your body supposed to tell the difference?

It’ll hurt, you know that, you’ve heard enough about sex to know that it always hurts the first time for girls…women. It was already a stretch to fit his fingers in your virgin pussy, so of course his cock is going to hurt. You turn your head toward the window at your side and try on look out at the rain drawing rivulets like veins over the glass, something to focus on instead of him.

“I said look,” the demon hisses, and his hips push forward a bit and you bite off a whimper of pain. “Watch me take your virginity…look at your tight little cunt swallowing me up just like it was made to.”

“N-No—“ you whine, even though it’s not like you can ignore it. “Don’t make me, don’t make me look, I can’t—“

“Then look at me.”

It’s what he wants, some kind of wicked satisfaction he gets off on, but you’re lucky enough to even get an option so you choose that one, shifting your gaze up into his face instead of the place where his cock is pressing deeper and deeper inside you. Overhaul’s eyes are half-lidded and it’s hard to tell from behind the mask but the look on his face is…pleasure? No, that would be too human. Restraint, at least. He could just thrust up into your body in one stroke, but he wants you to feel it for some reason.

Maybe because it’s a worse betrayal of your chastity if you want to get fucked.

Lucky for you, though, you can barely feel anything aside from the pain. The heat you felt building earlier is draining out of you even as Overhaul tilts deeper, layering his chest over yours. You’re almost grateful for the modest barrier the dress provides between your torso and the solid muscle of his abdomen. His cock in your pussy feels like it’s too big too deep too much and it’s the first time you’ve felt like your body wasn’t created specifically for this purpose so you hold it tight.

“Does it hurt?”

A second of clarity makes you want to snarl (of course it fucking hurts, I’m losing my virginity to a demon I summoned from hell) and you dig your fingernails into your palms to stop yourself from saying it out loud. Overhaul pulls out a fraction of an inch and then pushes back in and you feel like the breath’s being pushed out of your lungs. “Yes! Yes, it—it hurts—“

“I can make you enjoy it…for a price,” he sighs, settling into a slow rocking motion of his hips pushing into yours.

And you want to, every sore muscle in your cunt is telling you to give in and give up, give him what he wants so you can enjoy it like he says—but you’d rather hate every second of this than make another deal. You shake your head quickly and because you’re still too afraid to look away from him, you don’t miss the look of surprise that flits across his face before he tamps it down. “I don’t—I don’t want to—like it,” you gasp out between thrusts. “It’s better if—if it h-hurts…”

This time it’s obvious—his eyes really do widen, and you feel some petty triumph at having caught him off guard like this. Who’s predictable now? you think—and then he’s lifting one hand off the altar at the side of your head and tugging his glove off with his teeth, and you don’t even have time to be afraid of what he’s going to do to you because it’s too late, his bare fingers are already stroking over your mound and onto your core, massaging into the flesh of your stomach so he can feel his own cock sliding in and out of you—

and it doesn’t hurt anymore?

You only have a second to try and understand—he cured you, he healed the pain from your first time just like he healed your illness?—before he hooks his grip under your thigh and folds your legs into your chest so he can fuck into you harder than before. His cock slaps into your pussy and you can hear it, hear how wet your filthy little cunt is, smeared through with your juices. It’s sick—the sound of skin against skin, and the moaning you can’t hold back, you sound like a woman in a porno and you wish the pain would come back just so you could keep hating what he’s doing to you. “What—what did you do—“

The demon ignores you. “It feels good, doesn’t it.”

“Nn—“ It’s deeper like this…deeper and rougher and you can feel it. Now that the pain’s been reduced to the dull ache of a stretched muscle, you can feel everything—his cock sliding against that same spot in your cunt that makes you want to squeal, the friction of his body moving against your clit, all of it, everything you wanted to block out— he pumps into you and you hear your breath sobbing out a moan a second out of rhythm, the sounds of you bouncing on demon cock echoing over the walls. “Please—ah, ahhh…”

“‘Please?’ Are you begging—me, little girl?” Overhaul pushes your thigh up and drags his cock through you, excruciatingly slow, forcing you to feel the thick head slide over every gummy wall in your slick pussy.

You shake your head, mewl, try to force your hips to stop rocking back into his and grinding your clit against him. But you can’t. You’re a—you were a virgin, for fuck’s sake! Overhaul’s immortal. Probably thousands of years of experience on how to make you feel like you want this, like you’re only alive in the places he touches you… You’re at his mercy, if he has any. You never stood a chance.

“Then are you begging your god?” His body lowers directly onto yours and like you’re being controlled by puppet strings your arms fold around him and rake your fingernails uselessly into the smooth skin of his back. You can feel the vibration of his mirthless laughter through his chest. “It must hurt terribly…to know he isn’t listening.”

“Don’t—stop, please,” you sob. “Don’t say—don’t stop—please!”

“Listen to yourself, girl—“ Overhaul’s breath is faster now, but you don’t have time to question it because you feel your peak coming again, the tension rising up through your cunt and your abdomen, harsher and crueler than when his fingers were in you but you want it just as much. More. “Has he ever answered your prayers? Has he...ahh, fuck—who’s the one giving you what you need?”

“No— please, please just let me let me, please—“ You’re talking nonsense now, begging for the release—at least then it’ll be over, and you need it, you need it so badly you feel your muscles locking up, cramping, your ankles crossing each other behind Overhaul’s back.

“Good girl,” the demon breathes, and then he lifts off you so he’s kneeling upright with the two of you still connected, his thick, heavy cock still speared in your pussy, and his fingers come down again to rub at your clit. Everything’s so wet you can hear the motion of his fingers slicking themselves through your juices, sliding up and down the little button over and over and it feels so good that a tiny part of you almost wants to drag it out, to savor it, but the rest of your body is going to die, is going to go crazy if the demon doesn’t let you cum right now, right now, right now!

And he does. Praise the Lord. The pads of Overhaul’s fingers pass over your clit one last time and your head rolls back, your throat moves but you can’t even make a sound, your legs shake and you cum.

You didn’t know it was like this.

Your cunt squeezes down on his cock, throbbing and pulsing and your toes literally curl (you didn’t think that was a real thing!) and your vision goes black for a moment and—oh fuck oh fuck i want this i want more how is it possible that i’ve never felt like this—you understand, more intimately than ever, why sex is wrong:

because nothing that makes you feel this good could possibly come without a cost, could it?

///

It must take longer than you thought for you to come back to your senses, because when you regain awareness of your body you’re in your hospital bed. You’re clean, too, and you wonder for a second if Overhaul bothered to clean you up? Or no…he probably just snapped his fingers and transported you back to your room. You’re not really sure how it works.

What you are sure of, however, is that you just got fucked by a demon. You’re sore in places that you didn’t know it was possible to be sore, and there are already bruises forming on the flesh of your thighs from how tight he was holding you. You don’t really have time to inspect these, though, because apparently your…ordeal (if you can call it that) isn’t over.

Overhaul’s still here.

He’s facing the hints of sunrise through the east window, dressed again in the immaculate lab coat and surgeon’s mask. “You’re awake,” he says without looking at you.

You nod hesitantly. You’re not really sure what the protocol is in this situation, but at least you’ve finally held up your side of the contract, right? And so has he. Despite having been up all night doing sinful things, you’re still itching to get out of this bed and test the limits of your healthy body. “You’re…going to leave, right?”

“Yes—”

At that, you sigh in relief and settle back into your starched bedsheets.

“But there’s one more thing you owe me.”

“Goddamnit,” you swear for the very first time in your life. After what you just did, taking the Lord’s name in vain seems like a relatively minor sin.

Overhaul’s mildly irritated expression doesn’t change, but he holds his hand out to you, palm up, the way you imagine someone would if they were helping you out of a car or requesting a dance at an old-fashioned ball. And really, you want all of this to be over—you want to get out of this hospital, you want to taste what the air outside is like, you want to distract yourself from what you just gave up in exchange for a future. At this point you’re just going to have to hope God isn’t as picky about the whole premarital sex thing as you grew up believing.

So you put your hand in Overhaul’s.

Slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid it’ll burn him, he slides your purity ring down your finger and balances it in the palm of his bare hand. It sizzles when he touches it, glowing orange until it eventually burns down into a ash-black circle in the center of his palm. Once he’s satisfied that your pretty little ring has been reduced to nothing more than a scorch mark, he closes his hand around yours and you feel something sharp, painfully hot, etching onto your finger.

It’s over in a second, but you still yelp and yank your hand away from him as soon as he lets you. “Ah—ow, what was that?”

He burned you, he literally burned you! He’s already healed it, but there’s still a thin, pale scar, an intentional one left wrapping around the skin at the base of your left ring finger. Like a wedding ring.

When you look close, you can make out a symbol on the back of your finger where the cross used to sit—and even though your conscious mind doesn’t recognize it, the sight of it rings out something inside your ribcage, deeper and truer than flesh and blood. It’s the devil’s mark, you think. It’s his.

“…A promise,” Overhaul says softly, and even though it’s a chilly morning, you can feel the heat of his hands on yours a long time after he vanishes back into the dark.

[beels-burger-babe]

A Little Voice Told Me - Pt.1

***This request gives me sooooooooo many Sk8 The Infinity Sad!Reki vibes it's insane! Which, as the angst-obsessed weirdo that I am, I love. For anyone curious, I set out my specifications for asks with poly!mc dating all the demon bros in a previous ask HERE. I hope this is something along the lines of what you're looking for @ang3lsblue *** Summary: Words hurt and leave their scars. MC learns this the hard way after hearing some not-so-nice whispers about them while on a date with Beel. How are they supposed to be the partner of the seven lords of the Devildom when they just don't measure up? Part Two: HERE, Part Three: HERE Date night was always difficult when it came to dating the seven lords of the Devildom. For starters, it was in the nature of several of them to keep you to themselves. Leviathan and Mammon in particular had a hard time adjusting to the idea that you loved all the brothers equally and wanted to spend time with all of them. Things were bumpy when the relationship first got started, but after some communication and careful negotiation, you were all able to find a way to make this work. One particular boundary that had been set up early on was a line up from oldest to youngest of who got to take you out on a date next. That day, in particular, had been Beel's turn. The two of you were at a professional Fangol game. Although you had a decent understanding of the sport from watching Beel's practices and games so often, you still found yourself leaning over to ask him questions from time to time. Beel would smile, and answer them easily without an ounce of judgement. The night had been going wonderfully with Beel's favourite team winning as the half-time buzzer went off. The friendly giant stood and looked down at you. "I'm going to go get some snacks from the canteen. Did you want to come with me?" You smiled at him and shook your head. "No, I'm pretty comfy here. Will you get me popcorn and a bottle of water while you're there though?" He knelt down and kissed the top of your head. "Sure thing, Honey Bun. I'll be right back. Stay here and be careful, okay?"

You giggled and waved at your doting boyfriend as he walked away. You pulled out your D.D.D. and began responding to the few texts that your other partners had sent you checking on things and making sure that you were okay. You were in the middle of responding to particularly curious Leviathan when you began to notice the words being spoken around you. "That's them right? The human that's sleeping around with the Avatars of Sin?" "God, what do the Lords even see in them? I mean seriously? They're just a pathetic human." "Honestly, the brothers are probably only dating them out of pity. I mean what else could it be?" "Did you see Beelzebub walk away earlier? He couldn't wait to get away from them. I bet he's ditching them right now." "Ha! Maybe I should go find him? Diavolo knows that anything would be better than dating a weakling like that." "The human needs to take a hint and back off. They can't even compare to the lords. I mean they're the strongest demons in the Devildom, and who is this human? Nothing. They'll never even compare." You froze clutching your D.D.D. tightly in your hand. What those asshole lower demons were saying, wasn't true right? Your boyfriends loved you and had proved it a number of times. This was just nothing jealous gossip. "Can you imagine being as blind and naïve as they are? Like how do they not see how much they annoy the brothers?" You winced as slid down in your seat a little. You did have the tendency to go off and do exactly what the brothers told you not to do. You were constantly stirring up trouble and getting involved in business that wasn't yours to meddle with. They were always having to protect you and save you from the messes that you had made yourself. You really were just a defenceless, small, human in a world of powerful strong demons after all. That much was true. Now that you thought about it, there was some logic to what these other demons were saying. Demons live for centuries if not millennia. You would be dead within the next several decades. Why would they waste their time tying themselves down to someone whose existence is a mere blink of an eye to them? Why are you allowing yourself to hold them back? "MC?" You flinched and looked up to see Beel frowning down at you in concern from behind the mountain of snacks that he was carrying. He sat down and set the food on his lap so that he could place a hand on your shoulder. "Are you alright? You look upset?" You didn't want to ruin the night for Beelzebub. He had been looking forward to this game for weeks. You flashed him a fake smile and nodded. "Everything's fine Beel. Just daydreamed a little while you were gone." He looked at you with uncertainty as you grabbed your water and popcorn from his stash. "Are you sure MC? If something's wrong, we can go home and watch a movie or-" The buzzer signalling the start of the next quarter. It was exactly the distraction you needed to get the focus off of you. "Oh look! The games about to start again! You should start working on those nachos before they go cold." You could feel Beelzebub's eyes on you as you stubbornly stared at the field. He squeezed your shoulder once, before pulling his hand away and beginning to munch on his collection of food. You were much quieter for the rest of the night. You stopped asking Beel about things that confused you about the sport. You barely touched your popcorn. Even though you were watching the players the whole time, you couldn't remember a single thing that happened after halftime. Although you were physically at the game, in your head you were running through every single time you had inconvenienced your partners. As the minutes ticked by, it became glaringly obvious to you that the demons were right. You didn't deserve them. You jumped as the final buzzer went off, and blinked at the scoreboard. Beel's team had won. You got on your feet and urged yourself to cheer like everyone else around you. Beelzebub's eyebrows narrowed as he watched you, and you could tell that he was suspicious of you. You tried

to up your game and laughed at him. "Why are you so serious? You should be celebrating! Your team won!" You stood on your tippy-toes and poked his cheeks into a smile. Beel chuckled and took your hands into his own, pressing a kiss to them. "You're right. I'm sorry." You tried not to let your smile falter as you heard people whisper about how disgusting it was that he was even touching a being like you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, unaware of voices talking lowly about the two of you, and began to walk out of the arena. "We should probably go home. It's been a long day, huh?" The walk home was quiet and tense. Beel obviously knew that something was wrong, but you just couldn't bring yourself to talk about it yet. As you arrived at the House of Lamentation, Levi was pouting in the living room. "You can't just have MC to yourself all night, Beel. It's not fair to the rest of us." Belphegor flicked Levi's head as he walked by. "It's his turn for date night, Levi. He can do whatever he damn pleases. You didn't hear any of us complaining when you holed MC up in your room gaming and watching animes for twenty-four hours on your last date night." Leviathan huffed and sunk down into the couch, purposely stretching out his legs so that Belphie couldn't sit. Belphie rolled his eyes and ruffled your hair as he approached the two of you. "How was the game? Did you have fun?" The evening's discoveries were weighing down on you as you tried to pull together a small smile for Belphie. "It was fantastic! Beel's team won and there was confetti and everything!" You held your breath as the twins made eye contact and silently agreed that you were keeping something from them. Before anyone could say anything you gave them both kisses on the cheeks. "I-I'm feeling pretty tired though. So I think I'm going to head to bed," before they could react you made your way towards your room. "Thanks for the night out Beel! I loved it. See you in the morning!" And you were gone. The three brothers blinked at where you once stood. Levi frowned and sat up. "Well, that was weird. Have they been like that all night?" Beel grunted with a nod. "Something's not right. I think something happened, b-but I don't know what. One moment they were happy and genuinely enjoying themselves. Then I went to get snacks and when I came back they were like this!" Belphie patted his twin's back. "It's not your fault Beel. MC adores you, you know that. Something must have happened, and we're going to find out what."

***AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH turns out I'm going to have to break this down into two parts! For now, here is part one! I hope you enjoyed @ang3lsblues! Stay tuned for the other bros and to see how they handle MC's insecurities.***

[twistedmusings]

My Kind of Human

Ramshackle stayed silent throughout the night, the moon and stars shining light into each room. 

All except one. 

I swear on my askbox that I am working on requests but this idea popped into my head and now it won’t leave and people always tell me to find a niche and I think my niche is angsty smut. And in this niche I will dwell ò uó. Aside from that, I’m very asexual so if my sexy scenes are bad you are more than welcome to roast me.   Reader is [G/N]  Warnings: Lemon soda (smut), possessive Malleus, bareback, dub-con and our good ol’ dragon boy just putting you under a spell so he can have you all to himself. 

“Do you have someone special, Tsunotarou?” 

Malleus stops walking as he looks down at your frame, your eyes staring up at the sky while you both are sitting down at the step of Ramshackle. 

“Special?” 

“Yeah.” you sigh as your eyes remain fixed on the stars, “Someone special. Like someone you wouldn’t trade for the world.” 

His first thought is his Grandmother. She had taken over the role of ruler of the Valley of Thorns and had let him grow in a somewhat normal fae childhood. He had heard many stories of children being forced to take the throne early on in their life and how damaging that decision turned out to be not just for the country but for the child as well. He was glad that his Grandmother remained steadfast and strong. There was also Lillia. Lillia, despite his constant antics, was always a guiding hand for Malleus in things he did not understand. Even now, Lillia would lend an ear whenever Malleus had a question about social interaction. Whether he would get a straight answer or a joke, that was just up to the older fae. 

“I have some people I consider that important.” Malleus looks up with you, “How about you, child of man?”

Your eyes remained fixed on the stars. 

You nod, “I do.” 

He laughs, “Is it your first year friends? I am sure Sebek would be glad to hear you say that.” 

“He would yell in my face before telling me he felt the same, you know how he is.” 

You two share a giggle before letting silence take over once again. “But it isn’t like that. The way I love Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel and Sebek is different from what I’m talking about.” 

Malleus watches your eyes shine under the bright stars, some of them being reflected on your irises as you tilt your head and lean back to let your legs stretch out. 

“I’m talking about a person who you can’t live without, you know?” 

“I’m afraid I might need a bit more of an explanation.” 

You shrug, “I can’t fully explain it without sounding crazy but…imagine you one day find yourself completely alone. There is not one single person who understands what you are going through nor do they bother because they might believe that it is too hard to comprehend. You find yourself so alone that you start getting used to that loneliness.” 

The way your eyes sadden are not lost on him, copying your movements and leaning back so that he can stretch out as well. With how you are both positioned, your fingers are almost brushing. 

That wouldn’t do. 

You continue talking, not paying attention to how Malleus places his hand over yours. 

“But one day someone comes in and changes everything.” 

He lets himself feel the fluttering in his heart, having lost himself to this feeling a long time ago. The way his heart would beat faster when you smiled, when you laughed, how you would approach him without fear. From what Lillia had said, this was something akin to falling in love with someone. When asked who it was he was falling in love with, Malleus simply shook his head and avoided answering the question. 

What he felt for you was not for anyone else to know. 

“They just ‘get’ you.” you smile and close your eyes, “Everything thought you have, they somehow complete it. Long distances become shorter when you are with them and for a brief moment time just...stops. You find yourself yearning for this person and wonder if they think about you the same way, to the point of losing sleep. You want to be to them what they are to you.” 

You tilt your head towards him. 

“Am I making any sense?” 

Malleus nods and sits up, “More than enough.” 

He stares into your eyes, your color reflected back on his as he instinctively leans closer towards you. You were building up to something, he could feel it. The feelings you described, they were identical to the ones he felt for you. It hadn’t been that long since you came into his life but he couldn’t see himself not popping by Ramshackle dorm every night to share these talks with you. Malleus wasn’t necessarily that attached to you when you two first talked but the more you sought him out the more he opened himself up for you. 

Your conversations, your little adventures, your attention. 

It was all slowly consuming him and making him realize that you were no longer a human but his human. 

The question slipped out of him faster than he could think of it. 

“Who do you speak so highly of?” 

You turn to look at him, your body leaning towards him as well that he allowed himself to dwell in his imagination for a few seconds. His own body covering yours as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer and asking him to take you with him the moment he graduated from this place. 

“It’s kinda what I wanted to talk about with you tonight.” you sit up with him and grin excitedly, “Remember what I told you about Crowley trying to find a way home for me?” 

He would answer your plea, taking your hand and kissing your palm before his lips made his way up your arm. 

“Well...he finally found it.” 

Malleus is pulled out his fantasy as he blinks twice, your smile shining just as bright as the stars above despite the awful revelation you had just given him. 

“I’m going home, Malleus.” 

You used his name. A part of him hoped that you would use his name when you two were in a much different and more favorable situation but you had just used his name to stab him in the heart with your wonderful news. 

“I was just saying all this because--I can’t believe I’m telling you this--before I came here I had these feelings about this person. They are everything to me but I was almost afraid to admit it? And this distance just...it just solidified what I felt for them.” 

He has to stop himself from reaching out to you and grabbing your wrist, thinking that the moment you got too far he would lose you forever. 

“Crowley says that I am going to be able to go back next week. So I’m just preparing myself to tell them everything I felt.” You turn to him and hold out your hand to help him stand up, one of the many things that Malleus loved that you did solely because he had an excuse to touch you. 

“I think a part of me just wanted to share this with you because I trust you. We’ve talked like this for so long that I think I just...tell you everything.” you smile sheepishly, “Which I hope you don’t mind, I did just spring it out of nowhere.” 

You were leaving him. 

“Tsunotarou?” 

You were leaving him for someone else. 

“Malleus?” 

You were leaving and he couldn’t stop it. You had these sorts of feelings for someone else and he couldn’t stop it. You opened him up and you were going to close him as if you were able to make the decision without any repercussions. You weren’t theirs, you also weren’t yours, you were his---

A hand shakes him from his thoughts as he focuses in on your eyes, his heart melting when he sees panic in them. 

“What’s wrong? Are you okay? What did I do?” 

He shakes his head and smiles as he takes your hand so you both could stand up. 

“Nothing.” Malleus pats your head, your size difference being made apparent to him even more than before, “I guess this is goodbye?” 

“No need to make it dramatic.” you lean into his touch, like a pet to their owner, “I’ll find some way for us to keep in contact. And if there isn’t--well then I will make one.” 

“I feel the same.” 

Malleus looks down and digs into his school jacket, smiling when you make a comment about this being a goodbye present. He puts a finger to his lips before pulling out a spool of thread, the top of the spool decorated with a sharp needle. “Give me your hand, child of man.” 

You nod and smile, doing as he told. “Is this going to be a blood pact of sorts? You don’t seem like the type, Tsunatarou~” 

He chuckles, “It is just a customary practice in the Valley of Thorns. Something that I believe will make our connection unbreakable.” 

Malleus brings your finger closer, the tip touching the spool as he expertly pricked your finger. You hiss for a second before smiling as you wave your finger. “Strangest friendship ritual ever, but it is very you so I will gladly partake in it…” 

A feeling of vertigo overtakes you as you lose your footing, your eyes closing as you feel yourself fall to the ground but finding yourself pressed against something warm. 

“...Mal--?”

You try to look up at him but gasp softly when your legs are swept under you, Malleus picking you up bridal style as you feel your eyelids growing heavier. Almost as if it was a chore to keep them open. 

“A true unbreakable connection.” 

Malleus opens the door to Ramshackle quickly, looking behind to see if he would need to take care of any pests that had made their way to the old dorm. Without any in sight, he closed the door, the lights on Ramshackle’s doorstep snuffing themselves out as the smoke drifted up into the starry sky. 

-------------

“Fgnaaa~!” Grimm yawns as he floats towards Ramshackle, yawning as he rubbed at his tired eyelids. 

Hands roaming up and down your torso, slowly undoing buttons as your hands rested on his wrists. Sloppy kisses shared between two amateurs but in between said kiss there seemed to be a forced passion, a need for the person above you to communicate how much he had wanted you. He had been caught stealing some food from Monstro Lounge and Azul had put him to work just like before, it had been a redo of what happened in Octavinelle all over again. 

Wanted wasn’t the right word, needed was the way to describe how he was feeling. His mouth traveled from your lips to your neck, your mouth opening up to let out a soft moan but being quieted down by his fingers slipping inside so they could rub against your tongue. You could barely keep your eyes open but with how you were looking at him, it almost made him believe that you were the one that initiated this. 

“Hnng?” he looks to see the lights in Ramshackle are all off, his head tilting in curiosity. When did you start going to sleep this early? 

Legs parted, eyes looking away, your chest rising up and down as his fingers pressed deep inside of you to rub and prod at whatever he found. He used his other hand to turn your face, your eyes meeting as he whispers a couple of words. A veil is cast over your eyes as he feels you open up like a flower for him. Hips grinding down to meet his fingers, arms opening to welcome him closer, his name falling from your lips making him eager to finally show you how he felt about you.

Grimm opens the door and yawns as he makes his way to the kitchen, licking his lips as he imagined what you had cooked for dinner that night. However, the only thing he finds are three deluxe tuna cans and a note that certainly wasn’t in your handwriting. 

Your hold on him is tight, legs wrapped around his waist as he sinks deeper and deeper into you. Hands in his hair, going up his horns and then traveling down as he bit at the juncture between your neck and your shoulder blade in order to keep himself from pushing all the way inside. But your warmth was calling out to him, inviting him to push deeper and deeper until all you could feel was him and him alone. 

Even with the magic affecting your brain. 

“Don’t feel so good. Going to sleep early.” Grimm sits down on the counter and frowns as he opens one of the cans and starts munching down. 

“Say you love me…” 

You gasp as you feel him push your whole body up with his first thrust, the bed creaking in protest in your ears but no sound being heard outside of your door. 

Were you sick? Grimm takes a giant bite and hums as he thinks. With him being this tired he would immediately go up to the room you two shared together and cuddle himself on your chest but if you were sick…

“I love you! I love you I love you--Malleus--!” 

The sounds were all mixing together. Your moans, his groans, the protests from the bed and the wet slaps of his body meeting yours over and over again. You were so full, all the way up to  your throat that the words he so desperately wanted to hear were spilling out despite you not remembering thinking of them. You were thinking of nothing. Every time you tried to think about what you were doing a sharp pain would stop you, instead keeping you attentive to the pleasure the soon to be ruler of the Valley of Thorns was giving you. 

“You are mine, child of man. Body and soul...all of them mine!”

“Silly human. Getting sick like that. They should be taking care of themselves.” Grimm shakes his head as he keeps on eating the tasty treats you had left behind. If you had left something this good for him, he guessed he could forgive you. 

Your toes curled as you felt something warm gush inside, lips covering your own and drinking up all the sounds you were making. He whispered something into your ear but you couldn’t quite make out what he said. Something about heirs and a kingdom. Was he telling you a story? He pulled away to look into your eyes, your brain moving your hands so that they would cup his cheek. Your comfort seemed to stir something inside him as he brought you closer, your arms now wrapped around him as you rested your forehead on his shoulder. 

Ramshackle stayed silent throughout the night, the moon and stars shining light into each room. 

All except one. 

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 324: Is There a Force Field Around Him??

Previously on BnHA: Flashback!Rat Principal was all “please tell Midoriya that I spent a concerningly small amount of money upgrading U.A. into a wacky physics-defying funtime grid so as to make the final battle much more confusing for everyone.” Present Day!Mic (or Present!Mic, if you will) and Jeanist were all “if only somebody could deescalate this dangerously unhinged mob, we’ve tried nothing and we’re all out of ideas.” Ochako was all “LISTEN UP PEOPLE.” The mob was all, “god??” Ochako was all, “NO, IT’S ME, OCHAKO. I’M REALLY HIGH UP ON THIS BUILDING AND THE VISIBILITY IS LOW DUE TO THE RAIN, SO I CAN SEE HOW YOU MIGHT MAKE THAT MISTAKE. ANYWAYS, DEKU WAS OUT THERE RISKING HIS LIFE FOR YOU CLOWNS EVEN THOUGH HE’S JUST A KID, SO I WOULD REALLY APPRECIATE IF YOU COULD ALL REMEMBER HOW TO BE DECENT HUMAN BEINGS, THANKS.” Let’s see if her Big Scolding Energy has any impact.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “so I have this speech planned out, and it’s really good, but it also only really needs about 6 to 8 pages, but I’m gonna see if I can stretch it out to 17 pages so I can kill time before we get to the next volume cliffhanger two weeks from now.” Anyway but it really is a good speech though. There are feels, and tears, and more talk about how Deku is so in need of a shower that just looking at him requires a tetanus booster, and more feels, and more tears, and bonus ship drama, and an iconic callback to the very first chapter which reframes the entire series in a new context in a totally epic and moving way, and it’s all very good. Except that Horikoshi is determined to never let anyone actually give this kid a hug. Who hurt you, dude.

omg we are opening on a callback to chapter 212, a.k.a. the chapter with by far the cutest flashback that doesn’t involve any baby Todorokis

baby Ochako is lethally cute. she could literally murder someone with her cuteness. I just want to scoop her up and play airplane with her until she accidentally activates her quirk while we’re spinning around and we both helicopter up into the air never to be seen again

“a child’s insistence” huh well that’s all well and good, but I sure hope this doesn’t mean we’re going to drag out the whole “sternly lecture the obnoxious citizens” plot for another whole chapter. no offense but I think we’re good

so page 2 is just continuing the whole happy/worried faces monologue, which of course is very important to Ochako’s character as it provides the context for why “who protects the heroes” ended up becoming her thing. and this is making me think we actually are in for a whole second chapter of this sob. when will my boy finally get to rest

OH MY GOD SUDDENLY THESE PEOPLE HAVE EYES IMAGINE THAT

HORIKOSHI: [reaches for a box of tissues while tearfully penning an homage to his beloved Spider-Man 2, specifically the train scene where the crowd sees Peter without his mask and they suddenly realize just how young he is]

HORIKOSHI’S HOMAGE SCENE: “COME TO THINK OF IT, I GUESS IT WAS KIND OF MEAN FOR US TO PICK ON THIS TEN YEAR OLD KID WHO WEIGHS 75 POUNDS AND LOOKS LIKE HE LOST A FIGHT WITH SATAN’S MOLDY OLD BASEMENT”

lol at this one guy who can feel the mood of the crowd shifting and is all “WAIT, NO, I WANTED TO KEEP BEING AN ASSHOLE DAMMIT”

as many pointed out last week, this man is wearing an All Might shirt. that’s some fantastic irony there

-- SDKFJWIGKS

“LITTLE GIRL, I HOPE YOU’RE NOT SUGGESTING THAT WE SHOULD ALL BE WALKING AROUND DRESSED LIKE A SOVIET-ERA BUS STOP.” heh. last week I said I was ashamed of BnHA being my favorite manga. that was a lie, actually

(ETA: in the original Japanese Ochako’s next two lines are basically “the only ones covered in mud will be us heroes!” followed by “please give us some time to get rid of the mud”, with that second line basically being the single funniest thing I’ve ever read rdslkjl. Ochako thank you so much for supporting my running gags. “YEAH WE KNOW HE’S DIRTY. WE ARE GONNA TRY AND CLEAN HIM UP, BUT IT MAY TAKE A WHILE, I’M JUST SAYING. I MEAN LOOK AT HIM. HE LOOKS LIKE AN ASBESTOS COSPLAY.”)

doesn’t the megaphone kind of look ever so slightly like an axe that she’s wielding maniacally here

easy there Lizzie Borden

also that’s a really bold claim to make there. and not one she necessarily should have to make, either. but as we all know, there’s nothing that shounen manga likes more than having its heroes bravely hoist heavy burdens of responsibility like good self-sacrificing citizens

p.s. lowkey loving how Kacchan is positioned here standing slightly behind Deku. not presuming to stand in front of him all overprotectively (because he would hate if anyone ever did that to him), and kind of being unobtrusive and letting others take center stage -- but still being close enough to Deku that he can catch him if he stumbles or passes out again

(ETA: or maybe not lmao.

DEKU: [falls to his knees]

KACCHAN: [glancing up from his phone a few minutes later] “someone just sent me the stupidest meme about milk crates -- oh. uh. you good...?”

really, son. “the burdens you can’t carry, we’ll carry them for you. ...later, I mean. right now it’s late, and we’re all cold and wet.”)

also lowkey loving this OchaTsu moment here

I was going back and binging Ochako chapters this past week for reasons, and I gotta say it really stuck out to me just how often these two are paired with each other. they do everything together. it’s a really sweet friendship that often goes unappreciated but it’s very cute

meanwhile, not to be outdone by the OchaTsu, Iida is staring at Ochako with open admiration talking about how she’s fighting too. it’s been so long since we’ve had any IidaRaka you guys. I was starving and I didn’t even know it

oh my lord IT’S FINALLY HAPPENING

THE LIGHT IS BACK. he finally looks like him again. what a cathartic fucking moment omg

ffklkdw

“I KNOW YOU ARE ALL SCARED, BUT THE GOOD NEWS IS, WE DEFINITELY CANNOT GUARANTEE YOUR SAFETY AND WE ARE ALL SCARED TOO!” good pep talk there kiddo

BUT, jokes aside, truth be told this is the exact right approach to take imo, and something that’s long overdue. I’ve said this before, but this new generation of heroes is shaping up to be much more transparent than the All Might generation. they’re basically abandoning the almighty, untouchable Superman “heroes as gods” concept in favor of the more nuanced “heroes as people” concept instead. and that’s a good thing. seeing their heroes as humans, with human limitations and weaknesses and flaws, will hopefully not only lead to more scrutiny and accountability, but also more awareness of how hard some of them are working and how much they’re sacrificing. that’s something All Might never quite grasped back at the start of the series -- that the weak, vulnerable, injured him could be just as inspiring as the mighty, invincible him -- perhaps even more so. there’s a power in seeing otherwise ordinary people show extraordinary bravery and compassion. it inspires others to try and do the same

SSDLHK AIZAWA SIGHTING AAHHHHHH

so he was still back at the hospital this whole time?? smdh at this disrespect. that feeling when your sexy self-insert character’s powers of rationality are too strong, and so you have to nerf him so that he doesn’t ruin your Deku Angst arc twice over by (1) immediately talking some sense into Deku and making him come home Right This Instant Young Man, and (2) not allowing him to leave U.A. in the first fucking place. excuse me, you want to do WHAT now, Midoriya?? that’s it, go to your room

also living for Katsuki and Hawks’s soft expressions. Shouto’s too, although his is tinier and harder to see. and Jeanist’s 12-foot-long neck. imagine Jeanist’s head with Mic’s hair. maybe Jeanist had a mohawk back in the day and that’s why U.A.’s doors are so big now

speaking of soft faces, Enji’s is also excellent

what could this random close-up possibly imply?? hell if I know. but Horikoshi truly fears no discourse and that’s what I love about him

OMGGGG

“smh my child is so dumb.” poor Ochadad. your child is cute af count your blessings

SDOFFHSMH

I’m telling you guys. lethally, catastrophically cute

this speech is still ongoing lol. Horikoshi you’re doing so good but I think we get the point now my dude. you gotta learn how to transition out of these things

UNEXPECTED TOGA WHAT

“there we go” Horikoshi says, crossing off the last line on his list of Ochako ships. “that’s all of ‘em”

poor Ochako is just repeating the same “LET HIM REST, PLEASE, WITH EVERYONE’S COOPERATION, IF YOU DON’T MIND, WE APPRECIATE IT” talking points over and over again hoping someone will throw her a bone and acknowledge her already. SOMEONE PLEASE HELP HER

literally they’re all just staring up at her silently omg. work with me people!!

now she’s saying it for the 56th time but more dramatically all of a sudden

they got so dramatic that for a minute I thought she had suddenly leaped off the building or something

look, not to rush you or anything Horikoshi, but I’m starting to get the feeling that this is yet another one of those “the volume is ending soon so I need to either hurry things up or slow things down in order to make sure we end it on my perfect cliffhanger ending” chapters where you go to ridiculous lengths to drag things out much to the exasperation of your week-to-week readers

(ETA: ftr, volume 31 ended on chapter 306, and I’m predicting that vol. 32 will end with chapter 316 (a.k.a. “you’re next!” [explodes]). I’m guessing vol. 33 will follow suit and likely end on chapter 326, so keep your eyes peeled for a big cliffhanger in two weeks’ time. Deku’s dad?? All Might in peril?? U.A. traitor at long fucking last?? we shall see.)

is Deku straight up falling in love with Ochako right on the spot lol what is happening

I know I just said that I enjoy when Horikoshi gives zero fucks about discourse, but shipping discourse is a whole different beast lol. I hope he’s prepared

(ETA: and for the record, I have no interest in shipping discourse either, as always. and I think this scene can be interpreted as platonic, tbh, with the context being that Ochako was literally introduced as someone who was willing to help him so casually without a second thought, and now here she is saving him again.

I don’t think it really fully hit Deku until this moment how much he needed saving. like I said in another meta somewhere, selflessness is basically just selfishness on behalf of others. and Deku is selfless to a fault, but that’s okay, and it doesn’t mean he needs to change -- he just needs friends who are willing to be be selfish on his behalf in turn. and I think the full emotion of what it means to have friends like that just hit him at last. everything his friends have done for him, how much he needed it and didn’t even realize, and how grateful he is. anyways what a terrible day for rain.)

-- son of a --

is he apologizing?? or pleading?? please tell me that’s not the case, because what the actual fuck. Deku you beautiful precious radiant selfless child, this is the exact opposite of how this should be. all these motherfuckers should be on their knees apologizing to you

DEKU WHY

I DIDN’T ASK FOR THIS FREAKING BOMBARDMENT OF EMOTIONS GODDAMIT. OUT HERE ARMED WITH YOUR FREAKING TREBUCHET OF FEELS TO LAUNCH AT ME UNPROVOKED. WHAT’S WITH THAT

FREAKING CHRIST. THIS BOY IS CRYING HIS EYES OUT AND HORIKOSHI IS JUST ZOOMING IN WITH THE CAMERA, LIKE CAN WE JUST CUT HIM A BREAK ALREADY. ENOUGH OF THIS. HE’S SO YOUNG AND HE TRIES SO HARD AND I JUST NEED HIM TO FEEL SAFE, HORIKOSHI PLEASE CAN YOU JUST GIVE ME THAT ALREADY WHAT IS THE FREAKING HOLD UP!!

GIGANTIC FOX LADY!!!

GIGANTIC FOX LADY PLEASE BE MY HUGGER BY PROXY!! SERIOUSLY GIRL IF YOU JUST HOLD YOUR UMBRELLA OVER HIM OR SOMETHING AND DON’T GO THE EXTRA MILE I’M ABOUT TO LODGE AN OFFICIAL COMPLAINT. THIS IS GETTING RIDICULOUS NOW

!!!!

A KOUTA IS GOOD TOO!!! oh my god if Kouta hugs him I will seriously 100% straight up cry. go on and test me

FOR THE LOVE OF --

is this man expressly forbidden from drawing hugs in his contract or something. DO YOU DO IT JUST TO SPITE ME?? this is tyranny, sir

AND I KNOW, THIS PAGE ACTUALLY CHALLENGED THE VERY PREMISE OF THE SERIES ITSELF, AND HERE I AM COMPLAINING ABOUT HUGS, OR THE LACK THEREOF. “this is the story of how we all became the greatest heroes.” and just like that, he waves a polite middle finger at all of the Strongest Greatest Chosen One shounen protags of old, in favor of something much less conventional, much more interesting, and much more suited to Deku’s character. because if that one sentence doesn’t just sum up Deku to a T. he gladly relinquishes his Greatest Hero status in favor of acknowledging the hero in everyone. what a class act. that’s my protagonist

I love this kid so fucking much I swear. only just PLEASE. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. GIVE HIM HIS HUG

[itsallyscorner]

hey love ❤️ i hope you’re doing good and healthy but i was wondering if you could do a little mix!reader after she gave birth to tom and her’s child. maybe when the girls meet their niece or nephew

💌

The World’s Greatest Aunties

Pairing: Tom Holland x fem!reader, Little Mix x fem!reader

Summary: The girls finally get to meet Baby Holland for the first time.

Warnings: none, spelling errors?

A/n: Hey darling! Thank you so much for the request, I’m so sorry that it took so long. I took a small break from writing Tom fics and writing in general because I needed to recharge the author part of my brain😭😂 I was lacking motivation to write but I’m back now! Thank you again for the request and I hope you like it!💞

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

(Pinterest)

✧───── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *. ☽.* :★. ─────✧

Five pairs of eyes peered over the bassinet, a twinkle of admiration in each one. The house was quiet except for the low hums of the music that played softly in the living room. Occasionally, they would hear the light clicks and taps of Tessa’s nails against the floors. The five of them were quiet, letting out a little coo here and there when the tiny bundle in the bassinet fidgeted.

“I can’t believe you actually made a baby.” Leigh-Anne whispered, cautiously steadying her voice at a quieter tone. You all nodded, agreeing to her comment.

You glance at Tom, who was stood beside you, “We weren’t even planning on having a baby. Someone’s pull-out game was just very weak.”

Tom’s mouth gaped at your statement, a false offended look on his features. “Well, you weren’t complaining while it was happening.”

“Did you really think I’d be in the right headspace to realize how bad your pull-out game was after being railed to the bed?” You quizzed him, standing up straight and placing your hands on your hips.

Jesy’s eyes shifted between you and Tom, “Are you two really talking about how irresponsible you guys are at sex in front of the baby you both made—because of irresponsible sex?”

“But isn’t she the cutest outcome of irresponsible sex?” Perrie cooed, leaning closer to the opening of the bassinet. Tom smirks at you before slinging his arm around your shoulder, “We made a beautiful baby, didn’t we?”

“Don’t flatter yourself Thomas, I’m sure Amelia’s 90 percent (Y/n) and 10 percent you.” Jesy comments, earning her some chuckles from the rest of you except for Tom. Though they’ve know each other for years, and he’s proved himself worthy of you, that still didn’t stop Jesy from giving him a hard time. Of course, all the petty arguments were all in good fun. He’s been slowly growing on her anyway.

“Well she’s definitely got (y/n)’s lips.” Leigh-Anne observed, admiring the sweet baby from above. You leaned your head on Tom’s shoulder as you watched Amelia scrunch her tiny nose.

“But her nose, without a doubt, is Tom’s.” You point out, watching your baby snuggle into her blanket.

“Honestly, you know how some babies are just not cute when they’re first born?” Jade began, voice remaining in a whisper. A few sounds of agreement were heard amongst you all. “Amelia’s probably one of the most cutest newborns I’ve ever seen, and she’s only a few weeks old.”

Tom’s lips morph into a soft smile as he leans back down towards Amelia, “She’s gorgeous isn’t she?” His large hand creeping closer to his daughter to brush his fingers along her chubby cheeks. Though the contact of his cold digits made her jolt, causing a sob to bubble out her small body. Tom gasped, turning around to give you an apologetic look. Before the girls arrived, you had put Amelia down for a nap so she wouldn’t be fussy once the girls were over. You were planning on waiting till she woke up to properly introduce her to the girls, but things don’t always go as planned, do they?

“Oh no!” Perrie cried, moving out the way so Tom can gather Amelia into his arms. Tom held her against his chest, shushing her and slightly bouncing his body to ease her wailing.

“I’m so sorry, sunshine. Daddy didn’t mean to wake you.” He apologized, genuinely feeling bad for waking her up from her nap. He whispered comforting words into her ear, not phased by the fact that she couldn’t even understand him yet. He pressed kisses on the crown of Amelia’s head, trying to calm her down.

“Look at that, she even got your vocals too.” Jesy hummed, smiling at the crying baby against Tom’s chest. You laughed, stretching your hands out towards Tom. Just by the gesture, he knew what you meant. The two of you have only been parents for almost a month now and every single day it seemed like you were both picking up new habits—specifically parental ones. It was like the start of your relationship again, you were leaning new things about each other, but this time as parents.

“Aww, c’mere darling, momma’s got you.” You cooed as Tom helped you place her against your chest. Her tiny head was snuggled into the crook of your neck, the warmth coming from your skin soothing her. You had a hand under her bum while the other was rubbing circles onto her back. Slowly, her cries softened until they were replaced by her cute baby gurgles.

“Are you crying?” Perrie asked. You turned around to see who the question was directed to. Only to find Jesy wiping her eyes and fanning them with her hands. She shook her head trying to brush off Perrie’s question.

“Babe,” you called out to her, “Why are you crying?”

You body gently swayed side to side, trying to entertain Amelia. You all looked at Jesy, an amused yet concerned expression on all your faces. When she felt like her tears weren’t about to spill from her eyes, she tilted her head to look at you again.

“I’m just—you’re an actual mother. Like look at you, you’re so grown up.” She sniffed, eyes watering up again. Jesy and the rest of the girls were just a few years older than you. Being the youngest of the group, they’ve always been protective of you and viewed you as their younger sister. They watched you grow up into an amazing woman, watched you fall in love with Tom, and now here you were—as a mother. The sight was quite emotional.

“Aw Jess.” You walk closer to her, using one of your arms to embrace her. Jesy chokes on her laugh, “No! Don’t hug me, you’re gonna make me cry even more.”

You ignore her protests and continue to wrap your arm around her neck. Jesy allows the hug to happen, wrapping both her arms around your waist.

“It’s okay, I cried a few times too.” Tom tells her comfortingly, handing her a tissue from over your shoulder. She takes it, thanking him quietly, and dabbing her eyes. You hear some more sniffles around the room. Breaking your hug with Jesy, you look around to see Perrie, Jade, and Leigh-Anne with glossy eyes.

“Guys...” You sigh.

“It just sunk in that you’re a mum now. Like you need to take care of another human being and help them become a person and all that.” Jade summed up, blinking away tears. Tom took it upon himself to wordlessly pass around tissues to the four women in the room.

Leigh-Anne came up behind you to move your hair over your shoulders, “You’re gonna teach her so many lessons about life. You’re gonna be the first person she’ll always look up to and her first best friend—I’m so excited for you.”

“I have life lessons too, ya know.” Tom interjected, slightly raising his hand. Jesy glances at him and scoffs, “You have the body of a twelve year old and you cry in movies for a living. What could you possibly learn from that?”

“I don’t cry in all my movies.” He defended himself.

You move your head to look at Tom, “Darling, you’ve literally cried in four out of the five Marvel movies you’ve been in. That speaks volumes.”

Jade’s eyes shifted between Jesy and Tom, “I thought we were having a sentimental moment, how did we go from that to hating on Tom.”

“Because, he’s Tom.”

Tom crossed his arms, squinting at you all, “You know, I thought having Amelia would make you guys like me more—but no, I just can’t catch a break from you lot.”

A joyful sound emitted from Amelia, catching everyone’s attention. The girls cooed and awed at the new member of their little family.

“Oh hello precious!” Perrie squealed leaning down beside you so she can see Amelia’s face. Your baby’s eyes were wide as she stared at the faces crowding above her.

“D’you guys wanna hold her?” The girls eagerly nod, bodies filling with excitement. You handed Amelia to Jesy, showing her how to properly hold your newborn baby. With her new niece’s head resting against her shoulder, she feels her heart swell with joy.

“Oh my, she’s lovely.” She whispered softly, her hand cradling Amelia’s head. She ducks her head to get a closer look at her face, chuckling when she sees the combination of you and Tom on Amelia’s features. Jesy catches a whiff of the newborn baby smell radiating off of her—you know, that light weight baby powder-ish smell?

“And she smells so good!” Jesy announced enthusiastically. Perrie frowns, “I wanna smell the baby.”

“Too bad, you can’t.” Jade teases, poking fun at Perrie’s inability to smell. Jesy passes Amelia to Perrie, who makes grabby hands at her before wrapping her arms around Amelia’s tiny form.

“I’m so sorry for exposing you to the media.” She tells the baby, a chorus of laughter following her apology. Perrie gently pokes Amelia’s cheeks with her finger, “Your cheeks! I just want to squish ‘em and smother you with kisses!”

“I think you’ve had enough time with the baby, my turn!” Leigh-Anne jokes, holding her hands out for Amelia. Perrie carefully hands her to Leigh-Anne, who instantly melts once she holds Amelia against her.

“I want one now.” She whines.

“Ask Andre, I’m sure he’ll give you one in no time.” You wink at her, gesturing to the ring on her left hand. You honestly wouldn’t be surprised if she became pregnant anytime soon. Leigh-Anne took her time holding Amelia, basking in the cloud of baby fever she was currently experiencing. Your daughter was then passed onto Jade, who was thrilled to show her niece all the gifts she had bought her.

You all watched as Jade ventured towards the couch, kindly asking Tom to fetch the large bag that was at your entrance alongside the piles of packages from your family and friends. Ever since you and Tom brought Amelia home, there has been a never ending amount of gifts being delivered to your home. The items ranged from clothes, toys, to diapers, and baby bottles. Your house was practically filled to the brim with baby supplies.

Jade settles on the couch; adjusting Amelia so she can cradle her with her arm and using her free hand to pull out gifts from the bag. You and the rest of the girls sit around her, while Tom looked over the couch behind you.

“You guys really didn’t have to get us anything, just being here and letting us share this moment with you is enough for me.” You expressed, Tom agreeing with you. Jade simply brushed you off, “Oh hush up, let us spoil Amelia. She’s going to be the sixth member of our band, so we need to make sure she’s got the best clothes to look like her mummy and aunties.”

Jade proceeds to pull out a bunch of Disney themed items out from the bag. “Oh you’re gonna love this, I found a bunch off onesies that were princess themed—look!” Jade held up the hanger of multiple Disney onesies for your daughter. “Look Amelia, there’s one for every princess!” You couldn’t help but let out a laugh when Jade began to show every item she bought for Amelia.

Your and Tom’s jaws dropped when she pulled out a Minnie Mouse headband made for babies.

“That is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, lemme see.” Tom held his hand out towards Jade who handed him the headband. You watched adoringly as Tom inspected the headband, looking at it with fascination. He caught your stare and proudly held up the head band, “Baby, we’ve gotta take her to Disney.”

“Oh, we definitely are, don’t worry.” You assure him, making him proudly fist the air. Without any of you noticing, Jesy slipped out the room to get the gift bag she left out at the entrance.

“I’ve got something too!” She sang entering the living room. She sat back on the couch, Jade passing Amelia to her once she was comfortable.

“Alright, ya ready precious?” Jesy asked Amelia, who grabbed at the bag with her hands. Jesy took her hands in hers and helped Amelia ‘take out’ the tissue paper from the bag.

“Since I know your parents are two of the biggest Harry Potter nerds, I decided to get you this because I know they’ll flip.” She explained before pulling out a baby Hogwarts costume.

“Jesy!” You gasped, leaning in to get a closer look at the clothes.

“They have Harry Potter merch for babies?” Tom exclaimed, rushing to stand behind Jesy’s part of the couch. He began to ramble, asking her where she bought the clothes and if there were more.

Jesy held her hand out to stop Tom from talking, “Wait, wait—WAIT, Jesus Thomas, you’re more excited for these clothes than your daughter.”

Tom shrugged, “Well she can’t express any feelings yet, so I’ll do it.”

“Here.” She passed the costume to him making him cheer. “The costume came with another thing actually.” Jesy took out a baby Hogwarts robe, making you gasp again.

“It comes with the robes too?” You asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, it was an entire set!” Jesy proudly answered. Tom ran his hand along the robe, touching the soft fabric. He let out a squeal, “I love it!”

“Tom darling, the clothes are for Amelia, not you.” Perrie teasingly reminded him. Tom brushes off her comment, “(Y/n), we could all dress up as Hogwarts students for Halloween! We could match costumes!” Tom was practically buzzing with excitement, not allowing you to give him a response.

“Thank you Jesy, it’s nice to know that you have a soft spot for me.” He bumped his fist against her shoulder, which she glared at.

“I don’t have a soft spot for you, twit.”

“Yes you do, you knew I liked Harry Potter.” He held up the Hogwarts costume, “And you got Amelia a baby Hogwarts costume. You went out of your way to give us this gift. It’s enough proof, Jes.”

“I got it for (Y/n).” Jesy argued.

Tom crossed his arms, “Just admit that you like me.”

“No, you’re a menace.” You all watched the exchange between the two. A goofy grin was on his face as he spread his arms out, “I’m gonna hug you now.” Before Jesy can respond, Tom had wrapped his arms around Jesy. She groaned, squirming in his grip.

“Thank you Jesy!” He sang, taking the piss out of annoying her. She smacked his arm, “I get it. Now get off, I’m holding your child!”

Tom lets go with a smile on his face.

“She likes me.” He mouthed to you, motioning to Jesy. You shook your head at him, chuckling.

The girls continued to give Amelia their gifts. Perrie got her a bunch of classic children’s books and some toys. Leigh-Anne had given you a diaper bag and a “mommy and me” set of clothes. You were instantly obsessed with the matching sets, now you and your baby girl can have matching outfits. The night was full of the girls passing Amelia around and playing with her. She hadn’t cried for a single second, happy with the attention she was getting and constantly being held. There was no doubt that she would sleep soundly tonight, much to your and Tom’s content.

You watched as the girls circled around Amelia in the living room. Perrie was currently holding her, talking about how she couldn’t wait to spoil her with all the cutest baby clothes and toys. You overheard them talking about all the things they wanted to teach her; like how to sing. A smile had crept its way onto your lips without you noticing. Suddenly a pair of arms wrap around your waist.

Tom presses a kiss onto your shoulder and rests his chin on it, “You know she’s the luckiest baby in the world? And I’m not just saying that because she’s our child, but she’s really lucky. We’re very lucky.”

“We are, aren’t we?” You hum, leaning your weight against his chest, something he happily welcomes.

“She’s got two amazing parents. That’s us.” He squeezes you and continues his list, “She has grandparents who already love her, a bunch of protective uncles, and the world’s greatest aunties in her corner.” He finished, gesturing to the women in the living room. Yeah, you guys were lucky.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

🏷Tags ↴

*if there is a cross through your username, tumblr won’t let me tag you:(*

Little Mix!Reader tags

↪︎ @waxingmoonwrites @slutforsebstan @starslazyandcosy @xkonpinkx @dummiesshort @gypsystuf @kielemarie @wroetospidey @thatgirlangelb @have-aheart @adayasgeorgia @xeniarocks @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @agustdowney @itssmadelyn @imthebadguyyy @tomsirishgirlx @roseke @kaylans-imagines @bi-lmg @holsj2411

Tom Holland tags

↪︎ @lovableparker @aprettyfleur @sunwardsss @dummiesshort @thotforcriminalminds @cuddlykoala101 @itstaskeen @whoslili @white-wolf1940 @tomsirishgirlx @roseke @kaylans-imagines @spideyspeaches @slutforsebstan

General tags

↪︎ @quxxnxfhxll @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @thegirlwiththediary @agustdowney @bi-lmg @rqmanoff @sesamepancakes @stardustofreading @dracoswhore007 @amourtentiaa @alyssathesoftie

[kagesdumpsterfire]

Not that anybody asked, but:

Anyone who is confused as to why they kept living together a "secret", consider this:

They both have bad experiences with doxxing. Especially Jensen. Crazies have sent rusty nails to his place for christ's sake!

The above reason is also why I, personally, tend give Jensen a pass sometimes when it comes to shippers. Shippers (namely J*2 tinhats) have stalked him, his wife and kids, his where abouts, tracked plane routes, made threats towards him his family and costars, cornered him and JP at charity events to give them (and their freaking mayor) J*2/ w🤮ncest fan art, claimed his wife is a beard (and Misha a meard to her beard for JP?) and his children are test tube babies, cornered him at cons, among a plethora of other nasty things. His experience with shippers isn't exactly the best. There are tons of positive happy little shippers, but the bad always tends to outweigh the good. Which brings me to my next point:

They know people ship them. They know. Misha has openly talked about the ship onstage as well as other cast members. They aren't entirely immune to goings on in The fandom. Out right saying it would fuel the fires and they know it. So it's eaiser for them to keep it hush hush so they don't have to deal with the uproar.

Now consider this, say there is something going on:

Image is important to actors. While being out and proud isn't necessarily a bad thing, it's still not as widely accepted in Hollywood as some would like to think. It's perfectly fine, but then you have to consider type casting. While that would be less of a problem for Misha, who's acting career is a means to an end, would it stunt Jensen's acting career as far as roles he could get.

Then there is the fact that they are both married. With kids. The mainstream media world view when it comes to poly relationships isn't exactly kind. Rumors would undoubtedly fly about affairs and such. "What about the children?!" Articles would be popping up left and right. Pop culture media thrives off of rumors and most likely would paint the whole situation in a bad light. Also, detrimental to their careers. Not to mention, that would also cast a shadow on Danneel Vicky and the children.

All of this could put serious strain on, not only their relationship, but their friendship and their families as well.

Then there's the show and it's fans to consider:

We all saw last week how insane some of the fans can be. JP stans lost their freaking minds because they learned that Jensen doesn't inform him of every single minuscule detail of his life. They were ready to slander Jensen, destroy his project before it even grew legs, and some have already sent messages to Misha's publisher about what they believe makes him an awful human. Can you imagine the panic attack of learning that Dean and Castiel's actors are living together, but not Sam's? "What about Sam? What about Jared? They're trying to exclude him! Waaaa!" They already use to freak out when Dean and Cas would have scenes together without Sam. Jen and Mish living together? They would raise absolute hell.

Jensen and JP had to(apparently still have to) keep up the " Brothers in real life and on TV" act for the brand and the GA. If Jensen would have outright told everyone that he and Misha were living together, but not Jared....it wouldn't look great. People would wonder why. Are they fighting? Are they not really friends? Blah blah blah and so forth.

If they would have openly said it 2-3...however many years ago, it could have damged the show.

These are also, likely, the reasons the In The Know part of the fandom kept quiet. Because they knew too. They knew exactly what kind of chaos it would cause. So they kept it to themselves.

So yeah, it was easier to stretch the truth about the clothes sharing and the "brief stays" and all that mess, because the truth could have very well been disastrous. Now that the show is over, however, it doesn't matter. I'm sure we can expect tons of open secrets to be revealed, maybe even some that are not so open, but also keep in mind that Jensen is still trying to keep the SPN brand going, so there might not be any groundbreaking ones coming anytime soon.

Also,also, remember they are still human beings who deserve at least a modicum of privacy. Speculation and tinhatting is all fun and games as long as it stays in a fandom space. No one should ever be forced to out themselves or tell their secrets.

Thank you. You may now resume your regularly scheduled freak out.

[marsduality]

TikTok by @Relationship_anarchy

[beginning of transcript]

How to develop Secure Attachment in your relationships using the HEARTS acronym that Jessica Fern coins in her book Polysecure.

Okay last week we covered the H, which stands for "Being Here with Myself," this week we're covering the E, which stands for "Expressed Delight."

Personally Expressed Delight is my favorite way of developing Secure Attachment, um, because it's so primal, it's so primitive. Like, I think of babies , you know, the way people express delight when they see babies and they make these cute little faces at them and make cute little sounds and just give them like all their attention and just like, adore them. That's what I think of when I think of Expressed Delight.

The practice of pro-actively Expressing Delight towards yourself whether you're like, looking in the mirror and you're like, "Wow, I'm looking cute today." Or like, I don't know, if you did something courageous today and you're able to just notice like, "Yeah, you know what, maybe my life isn't perfect but I showed up with courage today."

These are examples of Expressed Delight and the idea is just you have a positive sense of self and you're expressing that outwards. Every single human being that I have met on this planet has some form of negative self-talk come up in their heads. And it's natural, right, because, well, we're born without these voices right, but its natural for us to internalize our environment. So like, we learn this negative self-talk from outside but then it becomes internalized and we start repeating it back to ourself.

So the practice of Expressing Delight in yourself is actually like, stretching this muscle of cultivating positive sense of self worth, and actually like, being able to not only see who you are but truly appreciate who you are in the world.

Man, when I started this journey of like, developing Secure Attachment - its still an ongoing journey for me by the way - um, like, four years ago I had horrible self-talk. I wasn't sure if I wanted to be alive, to be quite honest with you. Like um, I had actively hated myself, it was really intense. Um, but one of the biggest life hacks that has helped me in my life is understanding that you can believe something until you become it. So it's okay if it doesn't feel true to you right now, like actually you can program your beliefs by first starting with your actions. There's always gonna be a lag, right, but if you start practicing Expressing Delight in yourself, eventually your brain will start to catch up and be like "Oh yeah - we are pretty awesome, we are worthy of love, we are worth celebrating, we are enough. And actually, we are thriving."

If you are looking for a way to implement this in your life, here is a fun challenge for you to try on:

At the end of the day, before you go to bed, look into your eyes in the mirror, see yourself, and acknowledge three qualities in yourself that you embodied that day.

[end transcript]

Link for Part 1

[drspencerweed]

Spitting Facts

Summary: Reader and Spencer play out one of Reader’s fantasies, and Spencer gets comfortable in the only way he knows how. 

W/C: 1919

Content: forced orgasms, multiple orgasms, sex toys, vibrators, bondage, dom/sub undertones, ‘yellow’-ing out, use of safewords

A/N: Hello! Hopefully you enjoy this fic. If you don’t like the content, don’t read. Smut under the cut!

Masterlist

read on ao3

It had always been one of my fantasies. I brought it up with Spencer a week or so ago, and he was hesitant at first. He was scared of hurting me, of pushing me too far. Usually I was the one in charge in the bedroom, and we both liked that dynamic, but there was a part of me that wanted a break from being in control. I wanted to give it all up to him, let him break me the way I so consistently break him. And given this particular fantasy, I knew he would succeed. 

I tugged at the restraints at my wrists and ankles, they left me spread eagle on the bed; completely naked. My head was propped up with a pillow. Spencer was still clothed. He stood at the end of the bed, staring down at me. He licked his lips and pulled his bottom one into his mouth, biting down. In his hands was our newest purchase. We had plenty of sex toys, but I had never splurged on a wand before. It was a hitachi, the most powerful one I could find. It was plugged in next to the bed, and Spencer ran his hands over it slowly, taunting me. 

“What do you think baby? You want to cum?” He asked, finally crawling onto the bed. He dropped the wand between my legs and ran his hands over my inner thighs. I whined, rolling my head back. 

“Yes, please.” I begged. A single finger dragged through my folds. I was already dripping, having been tied for at least five minutes and knowing what was waiting for me. He grinned at me and pulled his finger away. 

“You’re so wet already. You must really want this.” He commented, and then put his finger in his mouth, sucking it clean, moaning around it. 

“I do, I want it.” I whined out, nodding desperately. He smirked at me, and picked up the vibrator. He turned it on and I could hear it buzz to life. I gripped at my restraints, bracing myself for what I knew was to come. The first introduction to the feeling was on my inner thighs, and I sucked in a harsh breath. 

Spencer ran the toy up and down my inner thighs lightly, leaving me whining and twisting my hips to try and urge him where I wanted him. “God, look how desperate you are.” He sounded almost in awe, still lightly running the wand across my skin. 

“Just- please,” I begged again, twisting my hips towards the vibrator. He finally moved it, but not where I wanted it. The vibrations stopped completely, as he turned it off and held it away from my body. 

“Did you know that many people use edging to increase the power of their orgasm?” Of course I knew that, I edged him all the time. He was teasing me. He brushed the head of the wand against me while it was still off. Rubbing it up and down, he smirked at me. I whined when the rubber brushed over my sensitive clit. 

“Yes, Spence, now please,” My whines made him pull away the wand completely, tsking. 

“Don’t be greedy.” He chastised. 

“But I want it so badly.” I whined. He tsked again and reached out and slapped my pussy. I winced and bit down on my bottom lip. 

“If you want it so badly, I guess I have to give it to you.” He said teasingly. The buzzing started up again as he turned on the wand, and pressed it directly against my cunt. I cried out, throwing my head back as the vibrations overtook me. It was an overall feeling, not directly on my clit, making me moan out. Spencer smirked, moving the vibrator up and down slightly, making me buck my hips. 

“Did you know-” Spencer started, then reached out and used his fingers to spread out my pussy. His fingers pulled up so that my clit was exposed, the vibrator going directly on it. I nearly screamed. “-that the clitoris has over 8,000 nerve endings?” 

It was a fact I did know, but I could barely think past my pussy. All I could focus on was the intense vibrations directly on the most sensitive part of me. I was hurtling towards an orgasm fast, and Spencer’s voice wasn’t helping. He kept rambling. 

“However, those 8,000 nerves actually connect to over 15,000 nerve endings in the pelvis, meaning you can feel an orgasm-” He pressed the vibrator into me harder. “-nearly everywhere.” My mouth dropped in a silent scream as I reached my orgasm. It crashed through me. My stomach tightened and my thighs shook. It felt like it went on forever, as Spencer never lightened the touch of the wand.

He shifted, leaning up so he could talk in my ear, still holding the vibrator steady. My hands pulled at my restraints and my hips twisted to try and get away from the sensations that were quickly becoming overwhelming. “Most women have no refractory period. Meaning they can have multiple orgasms in a row without a break. Do you think you have a refractory period?” 

This time my scream wasn’t silent, as my second orgasm crashed through me. “S-Spencer!” I shouted.  Again the vibrator didn’t move. I blinked my eyes open as I tried to catch my breath, to see Spencer smirking down at me. He moved the vibrator up and down, taking the immense pressure off of my clit. I took deep, heaving breaths. “Spencer...” I breathed out. His smirk spread into a toothy smile. 

“Only one fourth of the clitoris is outside the body.” He sat back on his heels between my legs, running the vibrator around and around my pussy, not touching my clit again. It gave me some time to calm down, but I was still dripping wet and ready for more. “The other three fourths are inside the body, behind the labia.” He brushed the wand over each of my labia slowly. “I know you can’t feel it, but imagine you can. Imagine the vibrations directly on all those nerves, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.” 

“Yes, yes...” I whined, bucking my hips into the feeling. My clit was still throbbing from my first two orgasms, and the vibrations spread over my entire pussy. It made me want more and less at the same time. 

Suddenly, he increased the setting. The vibrations increased in power and the feeling spread everywhere, right back to my clit. I was on the edge but it was just not enough to push me over. “The clitoris is the only body part in the human body that is just for pleasure. It serves no other purpose. Because of this, sometimes after it’s served its purpose, people experience pain.” 

He used his fingers to expose my swollen clit, and pressed the vibrator directly against it. “Are you experiencing any pain?” He teased. I tugged at my restraints as my third orgasm pulsed out from my center. My toes curled and my foot cramped, pushing up into my calf. 

“Y-Yellow,” I managed to get out through the pleasure. Immediately Spencer turned off the vibrator and pulled it away from me. I took a deep, heaving, breath. 

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asked, hands going to my inner thighs and rubbing back and forth. 

“Just a cramp.” I answered, stretching my foot out and waiting for it to go away. 

“Where?” 

“My calf. It’s almost gone.” I answered, still catching my breath. The pause in the scene gave me a moment to gather myself again. His hands moved to my calf - he had noticed which foot I was stretching - and began massaging. He pushed the cramp out quickly.

“Do you want to keep going, or are you done?” He asked, still rubbing his hand over my leg. I took a moment to assess how I felt, my pussy throbbing with the three orgasms he had already given me. I knew I could take more, but it would mean making a conscious decision to push myself. Spencer looked at me with caring eyes, and I knew I wanted this. 

“Keep going.” I answered, licking my lips and nodding. Spencer smiled at me, one of the biggest smiles I’d ever seen on him. 

“Two more?” He asked, turning the vibrator on so the buzzing filled the room. I nodded desperately and turned my head to the side. We hadn’t set a number before the scene started, but five seemed reasonable in such a short succession. As soon as I nodded he pressed the vibrator against me. I jolted up, extremely sensitive from my first orgasms, despite having been given time to cool down. I tugged at my restraints and screamed, my eyes rolling back in my head as the vibrations overtook me. 

Spencer wasn’t done telling me about my body or about orgasms. “There are a few different types of orgasm. Tension orgasms are the most common, when the muscles in the body tense and release.” I could feel each muscle in my body tensing as I approached my fourth orgasm. His fingers spread open my lips, and he ran the vibrator up and down my opening. I whined out as he pulled back the hood over my clit, and pressed the vibrator directly on it. 

“But you’re having multiple orgasms, they come over and over, one after the other.” I cried out, the orgasm lighting a fire inside me and pushing up through my stomach. Screaming, I twisted my hips to try and get away from the sensations which very quickly became too much. He didn’t let me escape, following my movements with the vibrator and keeping it pressed against me. 

“Often they say the more orgasms you have, the quicker they come afterwards.” He increased the speed and I screamed again. 

“Spencer! Yes, oh god, Spencer...” I whined as another orgasm crashed through me with barely a second of a break from the last one. 

“Do you find that to be true?” He asked, pressing the vibrator into me harder, prolonging my orgasm. I clutched at my restraints and thrashed to try and get away. 

“Oh-oh god, fuck. Yes! Yes!” I pushed through the last threads of pleasure that overtook me. Then it transferred over to pain, as the vibrations kept up on my incredibly oversensitive clit. I whined and bucked away, and Spencer knew it was time to stop. He pulled the vibrator away and turned it off. He immediately untied me and I relaxed onto the bed, unable to move. My thighs were still shaking from the intensity of my last orgasm. 

He stripped off his shirt and pants and climbed onto the bed with me, taking me into his arms. “Shhh, shhh.” He comforted. I hadn’t even noticed I was crying until he did that. He ran a hand through my hair and brought it down to my face. He leaned down and kissed me gently. “It’s okay, you did so good for me.” 

“I did?”

“So good for me, perfect.” He pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead and wiped away the tears from my face. 

I turned into him, wrapping my arms around his waist and letting my head rest on his chest. He ran his hand down my back, the other playing with my hair. 

“I love you.” I mumbled into his chest. His lips found my forehead again, staying pressed there. 

“I love you too.”

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[supergraphicultramoderngirl]

i ain’t gonna face no defeat

in which alex was a figure skater.

word count: 2,916

some willex, juke if you squint

tw: occasional swearing, period-typical homophobic parents (q word is used as a slur exactly once)

———

“Cut off my circulation even more, why don’t you?” Alex grumbles, grabbing his arm away from his sister.

She rolls her eyes and nudges him as he adjusts the arm band. “Hey, feel lucky you’re even doing this. I don’t think Mom and Dad actually realize what you’re skating to.”

Alex hesitates and sucks on his teeth. “You think they’ll be mad?”

“Oh, they’ll be livid,” she deadpans, then smiles softly. “But they can’t stop you.” She gives him a pat on the shoulder as he leans over to pull on his boot covers. “I’m gonna head to the bleachers. Break a leg!”

Alex calls after her, not looking up, “That’s only for theater and you know it, Mel!”

A few minutes later, he’s called to the boards, and he can’t shake off his damn jitters. He knows he’ll be fine once the music starts, but right now his skate guard won’t come off and he really has to pee all of a sudden and oh my god why is he wearing a tank top when it’s so fucking cold—

Alex steps onto the ice, and the announcer calls his name while he glides into a stretch before taking his beginning pose. He ignores the way his arm, raised in a fist, is shaking while the beginning harmonies start to play, and he skates.

•••

Alex began figure skating when he was six. It was an odd situation, really; he didn’t care about doing it one way or another, and he would’ve been fine with not doing it since his parents would always say it was a girl’s sport. His little sister, Melanie, however, wanted to skate so badly, but with her being the four-year-old she was, she was terrified of doing it alone. Begrudgingly, his parents signed him up for lessons alongside her.

Much to their dismay, he was good. Like, really fucking good. He landed his first single jump after only two years, and his first axel after six. He managed to get height in a way that his coach’s other skaters didn’t; maybe it was the inner pent up anxiety making him bounce like a jumping bean, who knows.

Alex wasn’t just good at jumps, either; he got his Y-spin after four years. He was that kid on the ice who accidentally cut people off with an impeccable spiral. When he practiced his programs, the other kids would move towards the boards to give him room and sneak a glance.

As much as Alex liked the attention from his peers (god, that support system was something else), he couldn’t help but feel disappointed that his parents never sat in on his sessions. They would only ever come to the shows and competitions his sister was a part of; he had to find his own ride to the others (thank god for Bobby's parents, honestly). It had made him angry at first that they didn’t want to be involved, but as he grew older, and learned more about himself, he realized he could use it to his advantage. He could skate to anything he wanted.

Alex was 13 when he chose to skate to Somebody to Love. To anyone else, it was very unassuming, just another kid skating to a popular song at the time, maybe even a tribute, since Freddie himself had passed two months before. It was everything to Alex, though. He pulled out all of the stops; his costume was the whole armband and wifebeater getup, and his coach let him assist in choreographing it.

He didn't know it was his last program.

•••

"Hey, Alex?"

He looks up from his math homework and hums in recognition.

Mel bites her lip and leans against the doorframe before mumbling, "I wanna quit."

Quit? Shit, nonononono— "—nonononono, Mel, you can't quit! If you quit, they're gonna make me quit!"

She closes the door softly behind her and walks slowly up to him. "Alex, the only reason I've been skating for the past year was so you could keep doing it. I'm really sick of skating at this point, and I wanna switch to something else. I'll keep going if you really, really want me to, but—" She sits next to him on his bed, lowering her voice to a whisper, "You saw how they reacted to the recital, 'Lex. You think they might make you quit anyway?"

Alex sighs and squeezes his eyes shut. She's right, he knows she's right. It just fucking sucks.

He tilts his head back. "You can quit," he whispers.

Mel places her hand on his and squeezes, whispering back, "I'm sorry." Alex looks back down at her. "I really with there was something we could do, but there isn't," she continues, recollecting her hand. "At least your last program was a good one."

He gives her a sad chuckle. "Yeah, I guess so. And, I'll have more time to focus on the band. Luke'll be happy about that."

Mel rolls her eyes, takes a breath, and leaves Alex to his own devices with a pitying look.

If she hears him practicing the beat to Somebody to Love in the basement the night she officially quits, she doesn't say anything.

•••

"Julie, what are you doing up there?"

Julie throws a shoe over the wall of the loft and into the evergrowing pile on the floor. "Cleaning out all of your old junk. Which one of you had a magician phase?" she asks, holding up a cheap, ratty top hat and matching plastic wand. "It was Reggie, wasn't it?"

Alex chuckles to himself, poofing up next to Julie. "Why do you think he knew who Caleb was when we met him?"

Julie lets out a loud laugh, continuing her digging. "Are the other guys here?"

"Nah, they're looking for a gig. I just got back from the park," Alex answers.

“Just the park?” Julie asks sarcastically, and before Alex can retort, she adds on, standing up straight, “Hey, whose skates are these?”

She’s holding his old figure skates in her right hand.

The black fabric is a little faded, with the familiar scuffs still on the toe. His dark blue skate guards are all dusty, but the blades still somehow look intact, given there wasn’t much opportunity for water damage in a loft.

Alex scratches the back of his neck, ignoring the rising blush in his cheeks and bracing himself for the inevitable teasing. “Those, uh, those are mine, actually.”

Julie looks up from the boots at him in awe. “Whoa, you skated? That’s so cool!”

Alex drops his hand, mouth open in hesitation. “Really? It’s not... weird to you?”

He can recall a tight grip on his arm, firmer than the band that had been ripped off. "Alex, what made you think it was okay to pull off this kind of stunt? You don't want people thinking you're some kind of queer, do you? Why we've let you continue this is beyond me, it isn’t any good for you.”

“Why would it be weird?” Julie asks, quirking her head to the side in such a Julie way that Alex would’ve laughed if he wasn’t so worried.

He shrugs, shuffling his feet from side to side, and mumbles with a wince, “I don’t know, because I’m a guy and figure skating is like, a girly sport, I guess?”

Julie shakes her head, eyebrows furrowed with a soft smile on her face. “First off, it’s not inherently girly, and second, if it’s something that you enjoyed, then that’s what matters, right?”

“I guess so,” Alex replies, looking down at his sneakers. Is that all that matters, though? He pauses for a moment in debate, then adds on at Julie’s encouraging expression, “My parents made me quit when I was fourteen.” He takes a breath. “They were never that involved in it, though, they actually only let me because my sister did it. I, uh, after I skated to a Queen song in a full Freddie Mercury getup, they weren’t too happy, and made me quit.”

At some point in his spiel, Julie had put her hand on his shoulder, and now she was squeezing it before pulling him into a hug. “Your parents are stupid,” she mumbled into his chest.

Alex chuckles, something emotionless, a bitter taste on the tip of his tongue. “Yeah. They were.”

Julie pulls away with a gasp, a bright smile on her face. “We should all go skating this weekend! The public rink just opened up a couple weeks ago, and I can bring Flynn so it doesn’t look like I’m talking to myself—” she falters, cutting herself off, “I mean, if you’re cool with it. I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Alex thinks back to his many (many) practice sessions, and remembers the feeling of finally getting that move right, of flying in the air for that one glorious millisecond, of seeing some of his closest friends every other day. He misses it, of course he misses it. It was his biggest outlet before he focused all of his attention on drumming. But, he can’t help but feel that stupid fucking guilt clawing at his throat, can’t help but imagine oh, so clearly the look of betrayal on his mother’s face the night he came out.

Then again, he had lived the rest of his life out of spite of his parents. Why not keep it going?

“That sounds really fun,” he replies, pulling her back in. “Thank you.”

•••

A world sans Caleb was a new one to Willie. However, it was also a very welcome one, because it was in this world that he was able to just relax with Alex in the studio, enjoying every second they spend together without worrying about the time running out.

Which is why he was (reasonably) surprised when the time ran out.

They throw Alex an impressively offended look as he removed his arm from behind their shoulder. “What?”

“Where do you think you’re going?” Willie scoffed.

Alex chuckles to himself, pressing his lips into a line. "As much as I would love to stay here and cuddle with you—" At that, Willie's face goes bright red, and Alex counts it as a win in his head, "—the band and I are going ice skating when Flynn gets here, which should be in about five minutes."

"Oh," Willie's face brightens as they reply, "sounds fun!"

Alex winces. "Yeah, making sure Luke doesn't accidentally become tangible and run over a seven-year-old while playing human bowling on the ice with Reggie is super fun." Willie laughs something golden in response, and Alex only hesitates for a moment before adding on, "Uh- actually, would you want to come with us?"

Willie grows soft, still getting used to finally being included, but quickly schools his expression before replying, "Yeah, I'd love to! Though, fair warning, I'm kind of only good at the one kind of skating?"

Alex quickly scrunches his nose. "That's fine, I'll help you," he offers, slowly untangling himself from Willie.

Willie isn't sure how much help he's really gonna be, but they figure even an amateur would be better than whatever the fuck kind of Bambi creature he is on the ice, so they nod and pull Alex up by his hand off the couch.

•••

They arrived to the rink a few minutes ago, and while Julie and Flynn are buying their rental skates and Luke, Reggie, and Willie attempt to steal some without being noticed, Alex laces up his own skates by himself on an open bench.

It isn't until after he yanks the last bow that he realizes— putting on those skates should not have been that easy.

Yeah, their clothes are usually easy to put on, and they can summon their instruments any time they want, but touching anything else usually takes an immense amount of focus. Hell, the dahlia pin Julie had bought Luke for his guitar strap took five tries to actually hook on rather than just drop to the ground.

And yet, his skates just— went on? Laced up with no problem? His foot didn't go through the sole even once? He wiggles his toes around inside the boot, and only feels the familiar push of fabric against them.

He decides not to question it, to not think about the implications of his skates possibly being attached to his soul, and tries to avoid yet another afterlife crisis as they walk toward the boards. Or, at least, he walks, while Luke just bolts onto the ice with no hesitation, and Reggie quickly follows. Alex falls back behind Julie and Flynn, who step onto the ice and begin gliding around, and Willie somehow finds their way next to him, grabbing onto his hand. They make it to the door, and Willie lets go with a small nudge to the shoulder. "Alright, hotdog, show me what you've got," he jokes.

Alex lets out a small laugh and steps out onto the ice, a weird feeling of deja-vu settling into his nonexistent bones. Once he gathers his bearings, he glides along before maneuvering closer to the middle of the ice and pulling himself into a scratch spin. It takes him a minute to really center the spin, but with the phantom tingling of blood rushing to the tips of his fingers before he pulls in completely, suddenly it's 1990 and he's doing his Lacrimosa program and he wants to try to land every jump he's ever learned, even though he knows that trying his axel right now is a horrible idea, and—

He's exited the spin now, looking back at the door to see Willie about a foot away from it, gripping the wall with a concerning amount of intensity, an odd combination of fear, shock, and something else (awe, maybe?) coming to rest on their face. He skates back over, and Willie's expression doesn't seem to change. "You—" they swallow, "—you can skate."

Alex slides his feet back and forth, his arms behind his back. "Yeah, I figure skated for eight years, actually. Did, did I not mention that?" he asks, smirking a little, knowing damn well he very much never mentioned that.

Willie closes his eyes, sucks on his teeth, and takes a breath, getting over their minor bluescreen moment. "Help me?"

"In order for me to help you, you need to let go of the boards," Alex responds. Willie looks at the boards, then back at him, eyebrows furrowed. "It'll hurt a lot more falling into two flat surfaces rather than one," Alex reasons, and Willie hesitates before finally letting go.

"There we go," Alex says softly, taking both of Willie's hands in his. He begins to slowly pull them along, not caring about passing through lifers, while Willie's feet slip and slide beneath him. Alex tries his hardest not to laugh, and Willie quips, "I thought I was supposed to be the athletic one."

Alex scoffs, "Who told you that? Are you the one lugging around an entire drumset every weekend?" At Willie's laugh, Alex tacks on, "I didn't think so."

They make a full lap around the rink before Alex lets go, having to prevent Luke and Reggie from pulling on some little girl’s milk boxes to make her go faster, because no, that’s not how physics works, and yes, people will notice, Luke.

After, Willie moves to get off at the boards, and Alex pulls a disappointed pout. Willie just motions toward the ice, saying, "I know you didn't just come here to pull me around the whole time, I wanna see your turns and stuff."

Alex hesitates, "But I don't want to leave you here by yourself—"

He’s cut off by a familiar harmony playing in the background, and Luke and Reggie poof by his side in an instant. Alex barely has any time to register it before Reggie is putting a hand on his shoulder and Luke is asking if he’s okay.

And Alex doesn’t know how to answer that right away, if he’s being honest. At first, he thinks he might not be, because all he remembers is scolding, leaving, hiding, but he reminds himself it’s 2020 and he’s a ghost; that his parents are as involved in what was left of his life now as they were when he came out— not at all. The feeling of freedom starts to envelope him; the same freedom as when he danced with Dirty Candy at Eat ‘n’ Beats, the same freedom as when he played the drums at the Orpheum, and the same freedom he had before his last recital. He takes a deep breath.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” Alex replies, trying to hide his newfound itching to just get back out there.

Reggie drops his hand from his shoulder with a smile; meanwhile, Luke catches notice of Julie and Flynn starting a mini snow fight, to which he immediately races over and shouts, “I want in!” Reggie just shrugs and poofs over. Whether to stop him or join, the world may never know.

Alex rolls his eyes at his friends’ antics and looks back over at Willie, anxious energy seemingly radiating off of him— except, not as it usually does; now it was more excitement than anything else.

“Go show off, Alex,” Willie says, shooting him away with a smile.

Alex unsuccessfully tries to suppress the overwhelming giddy feeling that rises in his chest, and he skates. Again.

Finally.