#the inflatable circles of air when you’re drowning

[bookwyrminspiration]

ass too big skirt can’t contain it google what do

[anthonysstupiddailyblog]

Anthony's Stupid Daily Blog (888): Sat 24th Aug 2024

In the early hours after the resort entertainment finished I went out into the hotel room balcony for some fresh air as it was boiling in the room. I saw that there was a pool cleaning robot doing lengths of the pool. There was a curvy bit on the front of the machine that looked like it had a big smile on it’s face. It was almost like it was mocking all the people who had to wait another seven hours before they could go swimming “In your faces bitches. Don’t even need to come up for air motherfuckers!”. Once we were all up we went to the beach and my sister and I paid 90 euros to go parasailing. This is something that has never been on my bucket list because It’s never looked particularly exciting but since the alternative was staying on the beach and having Luna demand that I build sandcastles with her I decided to give it a go. It took them about half an hour to check that the wind was suitable to get us up in the air and while I expected once we were fastened into the harness we’d be shot up into the air like a fucking kite but turns out they lower you up there gently like a grandad untangling Christmas tree lights. It is a bit scary when you first get up in the air but then you realise what little danger you’re in and that you’re essentially sat on a ski lift. It would be much better if you got five hundred feet up and then you got released and you fell into the water though I imagine there would be some sort of issue such as serious injury / death. To be honest the whole thing was dull as shit however after we got done there were a pair of hot polish lesbians in bikinis who did it and as we were walking back to the beach one of them squeezed the other ones arse then they had a kiss so it was totally worth it. Later on Lacey said she wanted to go on the Inflatable armchair that gets pulled by a speedboat. She’s normally really hesitant to do any kind of adrenaline based stuff (though to be fair she considers something like blowing out the candles on a birthday cake to be an extreme activity). As soon as me, Lacey and my sisters boyfriend climbed aboard, the jetski took off and Lacey screamed like she someone had just stuck a red hot needle into her arse cheek and didn’t stop for the next minute or so. Once the jetski stopped and the speedboat pulled up next to it Lacey asked why there was a boat and I told her the jetski was going to jump over the boat which made her scream even more. We calmed her down and told her the boat would go slowly (I think this is known in some circles as a “lie”) and for the next ten minutes or so she shrieked at the top of her lungs as this armchair kicked the shit out of the three of us as it dragged us across the giant waves. Being the cruel bastard I am I laughed like The Joker does when he thinks he’s killed Batman. I was laughing so hard I thought I was going to lose my grip on the safety straps. When we got off I assumed Lacey would try to drown me, my sister's boyfriend and the boat driver but surprisingly she said she'd enjoyed it and she wanted to do it again so this trip hasn't been a complete waste for her.

[jodfics]

Baby Makes Four - Part 1

Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Timeline: None / A little AU

Rating: NSFW

Prompt: Polyamourus Relationships are great. At least until there’s one too many.

A/N: Steve and Bucky share a lover, I’m all for Stucky but in this fic they’re very close friends who happen to love the same girl. So no Stucky content unless you squint.

MasterList | Part 2 >>

Steve walked back into the bedroom, a towel low on his hips and the muscles of his right arm flexing as he dried his hair with a smaller towel. He shook his head a little at the sight that greeted him, baby blue eyes barely suppressing the urge to roll, "Come on, Buck, give our girl a break already." Despite his words, the Captain sat on the edge of the massive bed and leaned down to kiss his lover's forehead, "What's he doing to you, Babydoll?"

Shaking her head at him, her eyes squeezed shut and eyebrows pinched together, and her teeth in her bottom lip, Y/N couldn't answer him. She couldn't fill him in on how Bucky's tongue was lapping at her soaking hole. Or the way the pad of his thumb running lazy half circles on her over-stimulated clit was making her thoughtless. A breathless gasp forced its way out of her mouth, forcing her teeth to release her slightly swollen lip as her back arched. Her hands twisted in the sheets, thighs trembling with the effort not to snap around the brunette's head.

"You look so pretty, Babydoll." Steve murmured thickly as his palm smoothed over her skin, two fingers dancing over her mons and interrupted Bucky's slow torture of her aching bud. He could feel the tremors vibrating through her entire body - at least until he felt sharp teeth and tore his hand away.

Bucky met his eye, no words needed to tell the other man to keep his hands off. "You're just mad because I got to fuck Y/N open first."

"And you're just jealous that you can't eat pussy the way I can." There was no real bite to their exchange. They were happy to share her and were secure in their unconventional relationship to not feel left out or cheated. Bucky returned to his ministrations, the pause hardly enough to let the woman cool down in the slightest.

Hearing her breathing stutter, sounding almost ragged as she bit her lips again, Steve moved his mouth to hers. Pecking her lips twice before running his tongue over her bottom lip, "Breathe, Babydoll. Don't want you passing out on us."Just when he thought she wasn't going to listen, or rather, was incapable of drawing air, Y/N's body tensed, and a choked sob let itself out along with the breath she had been holding. "That's it, good girl. Such a good girl for us - Fuck, you look so beautiful."

A soft whine left her as her body went limp, utterly boneless as she began to come down from orgasm - another one. The tongue between her legs hadn't stopped, the lewd, wet sounds of Bucky moaning into her skin made her whine turn to a whimper, and her eyes opened just enough to plead Steve to help her. Steve took pity on her, carding his fingers through Bucky's hair and pulling him away, "Stop. You're gonna kill her, Buck."

"What a way to go, right, Darlin'?" Bucky pushed Steve's hand through his hair and began crawling up Y/N's body, his lips and chin still wet from her juices, stubble rough on her skin as he kissed his way up to her belly. He paused when he got no response, not even a shiver from his teasing, "Darlin'?" He looked to Steve with a hint of concern, both men sitting up on the bed on either side of her still form, "Y/N?!"

Had he actually killed her?

Bucky cradled her face in his mismatched hands, examining her dazed expression and almost blank stare through barely open eyelids. He felt his heart thud into his ribs hard enough to almost hurt and called her name again.

Steve took her wrist, feeling for her pulse as well as listening for it - his own and Bucky's drowned out whatever flutter he may have heard. "Y/N. Come on, come on, Honey..." Her chest inflated as she took a deep breath in. Her eyes cleared and became more animated as she became more aware of her surroundings.

"Oh, God..." Bucky's head dropped to her shoulder in relief, his hands still cradling her face as he calmed himself down with deep inhales and exhales. "You scared the shit outta me." He felt her hands on his back, stroking up along his spine and into his hair at the nape of his neck, "I'm sorry..." Bucky mumbled into her shoulder, kissing it over and over until he felt brave enough to meet her gaze, still worried he'd done something, "I knew you were tired, Doll. I just wanted to make you feel good."

Steve still held her wrist, monitoring her heart's beats per minute and frowning when his ears couldn't match the sound of her heartbeat to the light thud of her pulse. He wanted to ask Bucky to leave, to concentrate on that sound, but one look at his friend made him hold his tongue. Bucky needed her reassurance more than Steve needed to play nurse. "I felt amazing, Bucky." Y/N mumbled, the corners of her mouth lifted in a satisfied smile, and she stretched her legs with a slight groan, "It just took me a little longer to come down."

"If we're asking too much, Y/N-"

"Steve." She cut him off, using her serious voice to counter his. They were supposed to be having a lazy day off, and she didn't want to ruin it because she had momentarily left her body. Tapping Bucky's shoulder to have him let her go so that she could sit up, Y/N kissed his cheek and then leaned forward to do the same to Steve. "You're not asking too much. I don't think that waking up to you grinding my ass and begging to 'wreck me' is a chore. I also don't think that Bucky is a chore when he wakes up and decides he wants to make sure you did a good job the first time. I'm just a little sensitive and," her eyes met Bucky's. "And someone was really on form with his mouth today."

Bucky grinned proudly, hooking his arms under her knees and around her back to lift her off the bed. The motion forced Steve to let go of her wrist, and his frown only deepened as they ignored his concerns. "What can I say? You bring out the best in me, Doll. Let's say we get a shower; I'll wash your back."

"Bucky..." his voice had that tone in it, the authoritative one he used on missions, the one that they didn't like him bringing home unless it was to play. He didn't mean to rain on their Sunday, he really wasn't, but he couldn't help the tightness in his shoulders or his concern for her. This wasn't the first time Y/N had been a little off.

The other man picked up how his friend was feeling, adjusting her in his arms a little when he realised he was pinching her a little between the plate of his arm. He understood why Steve was worried - Bucky had been the one who found her passed out on the bathroom floor a few nights prior. "Relax, Steve. I think we're done with morning sex."

"What about Second Breakfast Sex?" Y/N piped up, her arms around the man's neck and regarding Steve. She didn't like how the room was starting to feel heavy and hoped to show them that she was okay in hopes of alleviating some of it.

Steve ran his hand through his hair, combing through it to control some of the damp, wayward strands. He had to let this go - for now. "Alright..." he heaved a small sigh and smiled softly at them, "You get Gollum washed, and I'll start breakfast."

"Gollum?!" Came her indignant reply, Bucky laughed as she tried to explain the difference between Hobbits and Gollum to Steve as he carried her away. The brunette nodded along, reminding her that Steve was the artist and that Bucky was the reader.

Steve dried off properly and got dressed quickly so that he could start breakfast. The man stared into the fridge, his fingers drumming on the door until he decided to grab the giant tub of yoghurt and make something with fruit. The last thing they needed was him setting off the fire alarm again - he had no natural ability when it came to cooking. He peeled the oranges first, pulling apart the segments and cutting them into chunks; they were joined in a large bowl by grapes cut in half. By the time he had peeled a few bananas, he had an assistant.

"That's my top. It doesn't fit around your girly waist." Bucky snatched up a knife, twirling and flipping it until Steve slid the apples in his direction.

"Well done, you have working eyes." It wasn't the first or last time they would be wearing each other's clothing. "Where's Y/N"

He tossed the first apple into the bowl, watching Steve from his peripheral as he answered, "Told her to lay down 'til food was ready, she said she was feeling a little lightheaded." She had been feeling off for a few weeks, gradually getting a little worse and a little more frequently. "You've been watching her like a hawk, Stevie. What's got you in bodyguard mode?"

"A heart murmur." The knife Bucky was using hit the board a little harder, and Steve continued, "I know she said she picked up a bug at the conference, but I think she should see a doctor."

Bucky knew what Steve wanted immediately and tossed the rest of the fruit into the bowl, "… Shit, I hate your hearing sometimes. I've been trying - she's not as weak to my whims as you think." Y/N was more indulgent of the brunette; she was soft and reassuring toward him. Y/N spoiled him - though never if it was detrimental to his recovery. She could be hard on him too. "She told me to, and I quote, 'Take a chill pill, frosty'." Despite his mocking imitation of her, he was grinning.

"You think that's bad?" Steve asked, grabbing honey from the cupboard and three single bowls, "She wouldn't let me buy an iceberg lettuce at the store because it might give me nightmares."

"God," Bucky chuckled, "I love that girl."

"Love?" Steve blinked in surprise, still laying the table. He'd never heard Bucky say it quite so fondly, so honestly, and it made Steve stop and think. It really shouldn't have been all that shocking - they'd been together for nearly two years. What had started off as a one-night stand threesome had become a wonderfully intricate relationship. Though Bucky had always been a little more closed off when it came to his feelings, he still had so many doubts and fears haunting him. There were times he would step back from Steve and Y/N, try to discreetly extract himself from their dynamic, but it threw things off. It wouldn't work without Bucky.

It had to be the three of them or nothing.

Noting the long silence, the brunette tilted his head a little to regard his childhood friend, "Don't you?"

Again, Steve was quiet with his thoughts, adjusting a spoon unnecessarily before hearing Y/N walk onto the lino floor. She was wearing one of his button-ups and looked refreshed from her shower; seeing him looking at her, Y/N grinned at him. "Yeah…" the blonde threw at Bucky, "I think I do too."

-

Sunday was the day they had reserved to spend time together. They headed to the local mall after spending the morning relaxing, trading mission schedules and making plans to see Sam in Delacroix. Bucky was quick to pull Y/N out of the car when Steve stopped at a give way sign in the car park, "I'm not watching you park like a ninety-year-old man - meet us at the fountain when you're done."

"You're older than me." He returned Y/N's wave and left to find a spot.

Y/N found it a little odd that Bucky was hustling her into the elevator and practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. Though it could easily be the jazzy music playing on the overhead speaker that had him moving - he loved music. Well, dancing to music; with her. "What's the rush?" She asked when he took her hand in his gloved one and headed past the fountain towards the stores. "Uh, we're supposed to be meeting my boyfriend back there, Bucky."

"Yeah, but your favourite boyfriend has a mission." He threw her a smile over his shoulder, slowing a little when he realised she was practically jogging behind him. "I wanna buy you that lipstick before Stevie does." He recalled how she had gotten excited about it in a magazine, pointing out that it was the exact shade that matched some of her favourite clothes. He had loved how vibrant she looked talking about the rest of the range.

It wasn't even that she wore make up all of the time; work didn't really allow too much of it, and the two men usually had her sweating it off in no time. There was a bit of a line to get in, and she almost told Bucky not to bother - one pout of his perfect mouth killed her argument flat. He enjoyed giving her gifts the most. Gift giving and touch was how he spoke to her when he didn't know how to find the words. Whether it was from years of being masked and muzzled or that his mind was so fractured and damaged that he didn't know how to explain how much he adored her, Y/N really didn't know.

Steve was better with words. He used them all the time to praise her or to enthusiastically try to convince her - see argue - that something might not be in her best interest. Either way, she liked it.

Finally, inside, the loud music outside the shop drowned out and the aircon working; the couple headed over to the display, and Bucky immediately started searching the name tags. "Cherry Bomb or Pina Colada?" He'd likely get her both. "Doll?" Turning in a smooth one-eighty, Bucky searched the aisle for her, certain she had been behind him after he had released her hand. A few steps forward, and she came into view - staring off into space at the eyeliners, "Y/N? Staring is kinda my thing."

Instantly she perked up and looked at him, pretending she had heard a single word he had said, "Yes."

"Great," he leaned against the shelves and looked her up and down with a sly grin, "Because me and Stevie have been dying to try anal."

Her eyes widened, "Wait, what?"

It would have been funny if it didn't worry him so much, "You didn't hear a damn thing, did ya?"

Y/N's hand came up to the side of her neck to rest, her lips pulling into a strained line that was supposed to be a smile. Not much different from his when he was trying to be polite and not stab someone. "I'm pretty sure you didn't proposition my ass in the middle of a store. Other than that... I zoned out." Before he could voice his concerns, she pointed at the tubes in his right hand, "What did you find for me?"

Steve was waiting at the fountain for them. Two bags by his feet and his concentration firmly on his phone to avoid the giggling girls 'discreetly' taking photos of him and adding them to their Snapchat. He was used to being a hashtag by now. When he felt familiar arms wrap around his, he smiled and leaned down to receive a kiss from Y/N - taking a sort of joy in the complaints from his admirers, "Are they leaving?"

She nodded, "They've gone to mend their broken hearts and talk shit about me on the internet." Now that she had rescued him and Bucky had settled on her left side, elbows resting on the edge of the fountain as he glared out at the world - they needed to work on his 'resting stare face' - she kissed his cheek. this one not for show. "Bucky was mean to me."

"Why, how much did he spend on you, Babydoll?" Bucky being 'mean' to her was usually her way of complaining that he hadn't let her use her own money to buy things. "Or rather," baby blue eyes looked over her head to meet steel blue, watching the other's tongue run over his lip smugly, "What did he buy you?"

"Lipstick."

"You bastard." They had agreed to buy her something each from her favourite range.

Bucky's grin was wicked, "Language, Cap." Then he pointed at the man, "And you know for a fact that I was conceived in wedlock."

The woman waited for them to finish their chat, used to them sniping at one another in a way only close friends really could. Some people didn't get it; they thought the two were like a bickering old couple - and in a way, they were. She didn't know many best friends that didn't insult the other. She knew plenty that got defensive if someone spoke out of turn to their friend though. "Can I see?" Steve asked and waited for her to take the lipstick tube out of the small bag Bucky had unwillingly let her carry. He opened it up, the cap making a satisfying pop as he did, and tipped her face up, "Stay still for me, Honey."

It went on smoothly, the texture buttery against her lips as Steve glided it over. Something about Steve doing her makeup always made her heart flutter and sent needy little butterflies into her belly. "You know he's gonna try contouring your face next, right?" Bucky's voice invaded the private moment, "When I left him in Brooklyn, he was a hundred pounds of 'fight me' and didn't know a mascara brush from a toilet brush. Then he waltzes into Austria - two hundred and sixty pounds. Wearing tights and giving skincare advice."

Y/N laughed, "What happened?"

"I joined the army." Came Steves straight-faced reply; it sent all three into a fit of giggles that had Mall security looking concerned.

-

Steve and Bucky waited outside the women's toilets, both in different states of anxiousness. Steve was pacing back and forth, hands on his hips and glancing toward the door every few minutes. Bucky was sat on the bench with his knee bouncing and his fingers locked together as he stared at the faux marble floor.

For almost two blissful hours, the trio had been enjoying their downtime, and then their girl had listed to one side, caught by Steve, and then become nauseous. It took effort not to march into the women's restroom to help her, but the Mall first-aider insisted she would deal with it. And when Y/N finally came out, looking utterly drained and barely holding herself up, they took her to the nearest pharmacy - unwilling to listen to her protests.

"I don't like it, Buck." The blonde was pacing again; this time, they waited outside the pharmacy. After she had been taken into the back for a consultation. "I don't want to argue with her, but this..."

He nodded absently, staring at the floor and swallowing down the knot forming in his throat, "I know."

Nothing more was said other than their words of concern when Y/N came out waving some medication and insisting it was 'just a bug'. She didn't tell them that despite her absolute insistence that it was medically impossible, the pharmacist insisted on her buying a pregnancy test.

Steve and Bucky were theoretically sterile, and she had an implant - that was a little out of date.

It would be a cold day in Hell before she got a positive result.

[tooruluv]

Tooru Oikawa x F!Reader ( part 11 )

❝ my love for him is much like winter, a skeleton for the world to see. too bad he never liked the cold. ❞

description: being the neighbor and lifelong best friend of tooru oikawa definitely had it’s perks. you were never an outcast, always had a seat at lunch, got into volleyball games for free. the problem was, however, that being in love with him outweighed those perks. you would never tell him that, though, even if it hurt like hell.

genre: best friends to lovers, angst, unrequited love, fluff if you squint hard enough

word count: 2,611

warnings/notes: the next part is the final part. i feel weird that it’s coming to an end! anyway, i hope you all enjoy. i do want to put a small warning because there is mention of a “crash” in this, but it is only a small part and not anything crazy. love you all! <3

tag list: @afuckingunicornn​​​​​​​​ @maii-flowers​​​​​​​​ @clandestinerays​​​​​​​​ @brownandchill​​​​​​​​ @readeretal​​​​​​​​ @wedojustbevibin​​​​​​​​ @shigarakiskitten​​​​​​​​ @shittykawaa​​​​​​​​ @saeranoppa​​​​​​​ @srirachibi​​​​​​​ @tpwkatsumu​​​​​​ @sempiternal-amour​​​​​​ @bokutos-h0e​​​​​​ @pinknugget​​​​​​ @intheawks​​​​​​ @tori218​​​ @seikamuzu​​​ @alexthe80swhore​​​ @ghostly-toastie​​ @bumbledunce​​ @pineapplelantern​​ @ella-solei​

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You had been spending a lot of time alone, again. To sort your thoughts, to avoid seeing Oikawa for the rest of the weekend, you didn’t know. Either way, you were laying in bed and contemplating how askew your life (your love life in particular) had become.

It never was this complicated before.

In fact, it still wasn’t very complicated.

You had been in love with Tooru Oikawa for as long as you could remember. And apparently, he loved you too. The problem was, he was being a dick. And he hadn’t even realized this “love” until very recently, if the man even knew what it felt like to be in love.

The answer should be incredibly easy: tell him you love him and be together. Because at the end of the day, he was the one you wanted.

Kuroo called you just then.

“Hello, hoodie.” He greeted through the phone. “I know you said you wanted some time to yourself today, but I’m bored.”

“Hello, Tetsurou Kuroo.”

“You sound sad.”

“Oh, you know, just another midlife crisis.” You told him. You didn’t even have the phone in your hand, the device on speaker laying beside your pillow.

“Midlife crisis? Aren’t you a bit young for those?”

“You don’t know how old I’ll be.”

He chuckled. It was short-lived, though, his tone turning serious. “Do you want to talk about it? Meet at the hill?”

“You actually want to listen to me rant about Oikawa?”

“Sure, why not? I told you that I was bored.” A movement behind the microphone. “I’m making sandwiches! Meet you there in 20.”

The hill was beautiful even in the daytime. The city life hectic and full of car horns and chatter below, yet it was quiet there. When you arrived, Kuroo was waiting on a blanket with a plastic bag of sandwiches.

“Now that I have the guest of honor,” He moved over so you could join him. “Tell me everything.”

And you did. You told him about how you have loved the volleyball captain, how you were going to tell him but somehow ended up finding out your best friend was gay, how Oikawa dated Sana, how Sana is cool as hell, how Oikawa had ignored you and broke every tradition and completely threw you off, how you got humiliated by said captain and then kissed by him, how you got drunk and made out, and you even told him how you met someone else who had saved you from drowning yourself multiple times, how confused you were.

Kuroo didn’t interrupt, didn’t ask questions. He just sat and listened until you were done. He gave you subtle nods of understanding during it, but that was more for your sake so you knew he was listening.

Once you finished, Kuroo finally asked a question.

“Okay, I think that there’s only one question I can ask.” He turned to you, eyes gleaming in the sun. “Is it really that complicated, or are you trying to make it complicated because you’re scared that actually going through with your feelings would change things even more?”

For that, you didn’t have an answer. You just stared at him, eyes staring into his as though he knew the answer you were searching for. Which he did.

“Kiss me.” Kuroo said suddenly.

Your eyes widened in confusion. You spluttered, “I don’t… why would I… what..”

“It’s for science.” He said, not once moving an inch from his spot.

You scoffed. “For science.”

“If you kiss me and feel either nothing or guilty, it means you want Oikawa and I was right.” Kuroo spoke as if he was giving a presentation and not literally asking you to kiss him. “If you kiss me and you like it and I’m a better kisser than Oikawa, looks like you have obtained a new and extremely good looking boyfriend.”

“You’re ridiculous.” You didn’t move from your spot, either. “I just. I don’t want to kiss you and leave you hanging or like… lead you on? I know that…”

“Babe, I’m literally asking you to kiss me.”

“I know but…”

“Seriously I’m not going to be mad or expect you to…”

You kissed him. You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his. He was sitting cross-legged, and you had put your hands on his knees to give you that extra height to reach him. It only took him a second of surprise before he kissed you back, hands immediately going into your hair and on your neck.

His lips were soft, softer than Oikawa’s. Kuroo was soft in general, his kisses small and many instead of long and passionate. His hands were hovering over your jaw when Oikawa’s were everywhere he was offered.

You were comparing him to Oikawa. You were the one who pulled back.

A breath of air. Your stomach churned.

“…So?” Kuroo asked, chest visibly showing his beating heart. “What did you think?”

“I think you’re a good kisser.” You smiled. “But…”

“But you feel bad?”

“No it’s not that.” You stayed beside him, looking at his hands in yours. You played with his fingers. “I was comparing. Like it was a competition.”

“Comparing me to Oikawa?” Kuroo nodded, thinking. He looked back to you, smile plastered on his lips. “Who’s better?”

“Don’t ask me that!” you threw his hands back into his lap.

“Oh, c’mon. I need to know.”

“Too different.” Was your only explanation.

“Can I tell my friend that you said I was better? He would literally pee himself in happiness.”

“Fine.”

Suzuki Sana arrived at Oikawa’s house that day. It was a quick visit, to give him back some things and get back a couple of things she had left at his. They may not have dated for long, but they had done… a lot. Even before.

“Sorry for bringing you into all of this.” Oikawa told her.

“I’m sorry for being your first girlfriend when your first girlfriend should’ve been the girl next door.” Sana replied.

The friendship between Tooru Oikawa and Hajime Iwaizumi was never complicated, at least between them. Oikawa was the flirty, arrogant, leader and Iwaizumi was the one who brought him back to earth when his head got too inflated. It had always been that way.

Even back when they were kids, just throwing around volleyballs and running around on the playground Iwaizumi was always the one.

When Iwaizumi first met him, Oikawa was standing on the playground’s monkey bars claiming to be the King of the Playground. Iwaizumi told him that he wasn’t and to let the other kids play. To which, young Oikawa replied “There is a princess in need of saving! Help me save her, Jester!”

The princess being you.

You sat in the circle tower on the playground by the slide, pretending to beg for help. Oikawa only left the monkey bars to come “save” you, bringing you down the slide with him. Iwaizumi was at his side, actually laughing when they all got stuck in the middle of the slide and having to scoot the rest of the way with their feet.

“What is your name, Jester?” Oikawa asked.

“Hajime Iwaizumi!”

“Iwa, you are now our friend!” Oikawa introduced you to him.

That was the start of it all, for the most part. After that, the three of you were inseparable, your parents easily greeting Iwaizumi’s into their Adult Friend Group. There were play dates, birthday parties, summer trips, long volleyball tournaments, all together. They say, “two’s company, and three’s a crowd”, but the three of you made nearly a perfect unit together.

Things were different now, full of weird unsolved emotions and secrets that are no longer secrets. And Iwaizumi was so tired.

“Hey, Oikawa.” Iwaizumi said during the end of practice. They had stayed back, practicing a little more just the two of them.

“Whoa, you called me my actual name.” Oikawa replied, grabbing the next ball from the basket. “What’s up?”

“Are you actually in love with her or did you just say that to make her feel better?” He paused. “Or to make yourself feel better?”

Oikawa froze in his spot, ball empty in his hand. His voice was the smallest Iwaizumi had ever heard it. “Why would you ask me that?”

“Because she’s been in love with you for forever, and you have never been in love before.” Iwaizumi said simply, shrugging. “I don’t want to see her hurt anymore.”

“Iwa.”

“Listen, all that I’m asking is do you actually love her?”

“Yes.” It was a fast response, quick and final. “I didn’t know it before, but I know I am now. I heard that she cried over me and I felt like digging my own grave. Whenever she smiles at me from the bleachers at the games, or when she fixes my tie, it makes me want to giggle like a little schoolgirl. I know you’re worried, I know that. But I’m trying to fix things. I’m trying to make up for a lot of lost time I didn’t even realize I was missing.”

Oikawa looked back to the ball. “She hasn’t told me herself that she’s in love with me too. I fucked things up, I took out frustration and confusion out on her that I shouldn’t have. I’m waiting for her to come to me first.”

“Okay.” Iwaizumi grabbed his own ball. “Okay, okay. I needed to know, to be sure.”

“I know.”

You went on a walk with Kuroo through the city streets after the picnic. He put the empty bag and blanket into his backpack, taking your hand to help you up. It was a beautiful day.

“You should come to the tournaments this Wednesday.” Kuroo said. “Nekoma is versing Seijoh, you get to see me beat the love of your life’s ass.”

“I don’t know about that.” You joked, nudging him. “I’ll definitely be there. You can’t be mad if you see me cheering for both teams, though.”

“When she supports you.”

“Shut up.”

You walked for a bit more, taking the longest way home you could. You talked a lot, joked around and pointed out shops and restaurants to try. You even went by the Sakanoshita Store. Your favorite man wasn’t even working at the time.

It was nearly sunset when you ended at your doorstep. You suddenly had a realization that you were wearing his hoodie.

“Oh, shit.” You started to bring your arms through. “Do you want your hoodies back? Now that you…”

“Babe, nothing has changed between us.” Kuroo shoved the red back onto you. “Friends before all else. And you get to keep the hoodies. As friends.”

“Friends before all else.”

As soon as you walked through the doors, your mom announced that your family would be eating BBQ with Oikawa’s as a “Family Sunday Fun Night” (her words, you cringed). Usually these dinners were planned, but sometimes your mom liked to “switch things up, keep things spontaneous” (also her words).

You tried not to be awkward around Oikawa, but it was a bit hard when he wouldn’t stop staring at you and not coming to you. His brother noticed, of course, because he notices everything.

“You two did something, didn’t you?” His brother asked from behind you.

“You would be the one to say something about it.” You felt him put his arm around your shoulders (it runs in the family, Oikawa’s mom does it too). “Is it that obvious?”

“It’s a little obvious to someone who knows.” He brought his head a little closer just in case. “Did he finally find out he loved you, too?”

“We kissed.” You confessed. “Multiple times.”

“Oh, even better. Next question: why aren’t you together?”

“I thought it was complicated.” You leaned closer to him. “It isn’t, though.”

“Send me the pinterest board for the wedding.” He said to you at the same time Takeru ran to him.

“Daddy!!” Takeru jumped into his arms. “Uncle told me to run over and ask what you guys are talking about.”

“Of course he did.” He took a step back and turned around, looking at you over his shoulder. You sent him a look as he went back into the house.

You had crashed into Iwaizumi’s house before. It was nothing crazy, just a kid on a four-wheeler for the first time.

Oikawa’s older brother had gotten two four-wheelers for his birthday and gave you and Oikawa a (very brief) run down on how to drive it before sending you both off in them. The four-wheelers only went so fast, and it was very easy to start and brake, it was made for kids of course.

However, you happened to get the one that didn’t run the best. The brakes didn’t work as well as they should’ve.

So, as you tried to catch up to Oikawa (who just drove full speed into Iwaizumi’s backyard to show off), you couldn’t stop in time and crashed right into their gutter that drained the water from the roof.

Iwaizumi’s parents rushed out, promising you that it was perfectly fine and not to worry about it. But you were on the ground, covered in mud.

Oikawa was the one who rushed to your side like he was an active doctor, asking you if you were okay and telling you to stay awake like you were dying. He always was the dramatic one.

Sometimes, you can still see the small spot where you crashed into the corner of Iwaizumi’s house. Oikawa had always been your knight in shining armor, even if he was the one who got you into a majority of the messes you ended up in.

You sat in Oikawa’s room for the millionth time, feeling out of place as if it was the first time. Like you had to ask permission to breathe his air or look at his generic blue plaid bed comforters.

He noticed.

He patted the place beside him on the bed, and you obliged. The entire room smelled like him, overwhelming your senses. Oikawa always smelled like mint and flowers.

“I kissed Kuroo today.” You said. The first thing you’ve said to him since your little… movie night.

“Okay. You…kissed Kuroo today.” Oikawa repeated. He didn’t have any emotion in his voice but you knew him better than that. “I guess I can’t really say anything about that.”

You rolled your eyes, sending him a smile. You placed your hand on top of his, in his lap. He looked down at you.

“It wasn’t like that. Kissing Kuroo made me realize something.”

“Listen, if you want to date him I’m not going to blame you. I’ve literally come to your house in the middle of the night to escape some girl in my bed while you were in love with me and…”

“I’m going to stop you there, overthinker.” You focused on your hands, rubbing your thumb along a vein on his hand. “Now it’s you who’s saying that I was in love with you.”

“Hm?” He was lost.

You looked up at him again. “You used past tense. As I was going to say, kissing Kuroo made everything very clear for me and I realized that I haven’t told you something that I really should’ve told you years ago.”

“Oh god, it’s happening.”

“I’m in love with you.”

“Well, that’s fortunate.” Oikawa sighed, bringing his hands to your face and tracing the outline of your lips with his thumb. “Because I happen to be in love with you, too.”

[hisunshiine]

𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕜𝕤 & 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝔼ℝ |𝕛𝕛𝕜|

♡ au, friends to lovers, jungkook x reader

♡ fluff, god the cavities you will get from this, camping related injury, sfw

♡ for #btsfluffofjuly writing challenge

“Camping? I don’t think that’s such a good idea...”

“Please, you’re my best friend, you have to go with me.”

Jungkook’s doe eyes stared up at you through his long hair that was falling across his face. You shook your head, sighing as you gave in. Of course you would give in. Being hopelessly in love with your best friend would do that to you. 

“Fine...”

“Ah, you’re the best Y/n!” Jungkook punched his hands up to the sky before he pulled out his phone. You couldn’t help but stare at the flexing muscles and the way the veins popped out as his fingers rapidly flew across the screen of his phone. “I’m texting the guys. We have fireworks, and oh! Those pretty sparklers you like, and the view from the campsite of the city firework show is perfect. We’re planning to go to the camping site tomorrow morning and don’t worry; Yoongi hyung made sure to grab the beer.”

You roll your eyes at the thought of the yellow yeasty piss, and yell out after Jungkook walks out of your bedroom in your shared apartment.

“You owe me liquor at least!”

--

Camping. You were not necessarily against camping, on the contrary, you had always wanted to do it. But you had been trying for months now to reign in your feelings for your best friend. And yes, you know that’s hard to do when you live with him, but living alone? In this economy? You weren’t stupid. 

So here you were, climbing out of the Hyundai Palisade Jin had driven you, Jungkook, Namjoon up to the campsite in, luggage in the back and in the trunk of the other car that held Hobi, Yoongi, Jimin, and Taehyung. You took in the area, noticing the dense woods surrounding the clearing that looked like it was often used by campers. That made you feel a little safer about wild animals and such. Not that you were so far out in the wilderness. You were only about a 20 minute drive from the city, up a small incline that barely could be considered a mountain. It was more like a hill. But the elevation in this campground was definitely higher than the city, and you could see the edge that led to a drop where the river cut through, revealing the city on the other side of the rushing water. The fireworks were always done at the river, and from here, you had an uninterrupted view. It really was perfect. 

Going over to the hatchback, you start helping Jungkook unload the camping supplies and duffel bags piled in the back; the others grabbing the items and dispersing them to their areas for set up. You feel your cheeks warm when your hands collide reaching for the same bag, your hand grasping his before you pull away, laughing a quick apology as you avoid his gaze. Those deep brown eyes full of galaxies have the power to drown you if you’re not careful. 

“How many tents are there?” you ask, trying to figure out the sleeping arrangements. You figure you should have asked yesterday, but you forgot, too worried about being in a secluded camping site with plenty of alcohol, the love of your life who didn’t know it, and your 6 friends who definitely did. 

“Um.. like 3 I think.” Jin answered, rifling through the cooler for a bottle of water.

“So, what game are we doing to see who’s sleeping with snore-machine Namjoon?” Jimin giggles at your question, covering his mouth and unsuccessfully disguising it as a cough when Namjoon turns his eyes on him in a glare. 

“Ah, well, we drew straws already, so it’s actually already decided.” Yoongi answered, deadpan. “Sorry smalls, but you and Jungkook are with Namjoon.”

You dramatically fall to your knees, cursing the sky above you with shaking fists.

“Nooooooooo!”

The guys all begin to laugh, except Namjoon who walks over and flicks your forehead as you yell with your eyes closed. 

Everyone gets back to setting up the campsite, and you rub your forehead before stealing Jin’s water bottle to ice your hurt head.

--

“Koo, can you and Sweet cheeks go gather some fire kindling?” Hobi was stoking the fire, shooting daggers at Taehyung. Tae had forgotten to grab the bag with the extra kindling sticks, and making smores over a lighter flame would not work. You didn’t really care for smores; it was the 4th of July, hot as fuck outside, and you were not a fan of being even hotter with a full bonfire raging. You look up from where you and Jungkook were laying on an inflated air mattress you had yet to move into your tent as he played animal crossing on his switch, a little upset that you had finally worked up the courage to lay your head on Jungkook’s chest so you could watch him play and not even 5 minutes later your comfy position was ruined. 

Jungkook let out a sigh, the air sending a shiver down your spine at the proximity of him.

“I guess, hyung. And only I can call her Sweet cheeks,” he replies before looking over at you. “Come on sweet cheeks, let’s go.”

Jungkook set his switch down and once standing offered you his hand to pull you up. You grasped it, enjoying the way his large and warm hand engulfed your own smaller one, pouting once he let it go to head off into the woods. You saw him check his watch, mumbling something like ‘3:53 in the afternoon do we really need a fire now?’ as you trailed behind him.

--

“Jungkook, are there like… snakes or spiders in here?” 

Jungkook smirks at you, fully aware of your fear of wild snakes and spiders. 

“You’ll be okay. The closest hospital is like… maybe 20 minutes away. No worries.”

“Not comforting JK, not at all.” You cut your eyes at him, then give his shoulder a shove as he steps over a fallen log. He laughs, noting the way your shove did nothing to throw him off balance.

Without thinking, Jungkook retaliates by pushing your shoulder back, only this time, you trip, stumbling over the same fallen tree that he had easily cleared, and in your attempt to catch yourself, you overcorrect, and feel the pain of your ankle rolling.

“Ahhhhh!” 

“Fuck! I’m sorry!” 

You sat on the damp grass, hands gripping the grass in an attempt to quell the pain. Jungkook was crouched next to you, low-key panicking as he saw your eyes tear up. 

“Oh god, fuck! I’m so sorry Y/n!” He was staring wide eyed at your ankle, which no longer looked like your ankle. You were deformed. 

“You fucking… strong ass… you giant bunny!” You yell out, tearful. 

Jungkook tugs at his hair, his eyes wide and scared. It’s very clear to the both of you that you cannot bear weight on this foot, as it looks like it’s broken to you. 

“I’ll piggyback you!” He turns quickly, still crouched and you sniffle turning on your bottom as you adjust to cling like a koala to him. The movements cause your ankle to bounce, pain running through it and more tears fall.

--

“Ahh, it hurts Koo,” you tuck your face into his neck as he tries his best to walk smoothly but quickly back towards the campsite. Unfortunately, you had nothing to hold your ankle still from moving with each step Jungkook took, so every few seconds you felt the sharp pain shoot up your leg. It had swollen, you could feel the way your shoe was constricting it, but it was best not to do anything until it was looked at.

“I’m gonna take you to the ER. Seriously, it’s really like 20 minutes away. God, I can’t believe I hurt you, sweet cheeks.”

You shake your head, still sniffling as you tightened your hold across his chest. His chest was so firm, muscles tight from the way he was holding his arms to secure you to his back. You couldn’t deny that getting hurt didn’t put you in a great position, straddling his back, his hands spread to grip you firmly under your thighs; the pain didn’t prevent you from thinking indecent thoughts of him holding your thighs in a different angle. Preferably while thrusting deep inside you.

“Sweet cheeks? Do you forgive me?” Jungkook turned his head to try and see you better; you blink your eyes as you freeze. His lips were so close, you could just lean in and kiss him. Mere centimeters separated your lips from his… Just one kiss, gentle and fleeting, it was all you wanted… You leaned closer to him.

“Jungkook-ah! What did you do to her?”

Namjoon ran over, his hands grasping your face as he smoothed your loose strands of hair back away from your face. You can see his eyebrows knit together, worry over your red rimmed eyes and clearly dried tears tracks on your cheeks.

“I’m okay Joonie, I rolled my ankle.” You smile, trying to calm him so that the others don’t react the same way, but it was too late.

“Yah! You were supposed to get wood, not trip over it!” Hobi yelled from where he was kneeling by the fire pit.

“I’m taking her to the ER. I think it might be broken. Yoongi, can I get the keys?” Yoongi nods, walking over to the car with you both to open up the door so you can be seated. 

Jungkook leans down, bending his knees so that you can slide off of his back and scoot into the passenger seat. A part of you is sad that you are no longer holding onto him, while another part is chiding you for using this to your advantage to cuddle into him on the trek through the woods.

“I can take Smalls if you want, Guk-ah,” Yoongi offers, but Jungkook shakes his head, producing his hand for the keys. 

“No, hyung, I did this. I’ll take her. If there’s anything we forgot to pack, text me and we’ll stop and get it before we come back up. No more hunting for firewood for this one.”

Jungkook climbs into the car and soon you’re traveling down the dirt path back out of the woods. Jungkook reaches over, his free hand grasping yours. You look up at him, eyes wide at the gesture. 

“Y/n, I really am sorry. We’ll get you patched up soon.” His thumb lightly traces circles into the top of your hand, and you continue to watch him long after his gaze has returned to the road; attention to the highway he’s speeding down to get you to the emergency room.

--

“Ankle dislocation?!” You and Jungkook both have your mouths open, shocked to hear the diagnosis. It sounded way worse than a fracture or broken foot. In fact, the doctor said it hurt worse than one too.  

“Yes, your boyfriend here did the right thing bringing you in. Dislocation can be dangerous if it’s left out of place for too long, causing long lasting nerve damage. To avoid this, we’ll be skipping the X-Rays. It’s clearly popped out of place, so we’ll just pop it back in!”

You heard some of what the doctor said, but really, when she called Jungkook your boyfriend, most of your body just malfunctioned. Especially when he didn’t correct her. Granted, he still was in shock, as were you, but then you saw the very buff nurse walk in wheeling what looked like an oxygen tank, except it was blue, and focused on that.

“Now, Y/n, we’re gonna give you some Nitrous Oxide, it will help with the discomfort as we reduce the dislocation,” she turned to face Jungkook, “Boyfriend, come over here and hold her hand. After we finish, we’ll let her rest while we get a boot and crutches for her as well as the discharge papers, okay?”

Jungkook nods, eyes still wide in shock that a simple push had led to this.

“I need you to monitor her, okay? 5 minutes after, take the mask off her. While we get everything ready, she’ll be a little loopy from the N2O… it’s laughing gas, but after another 5 minutes, it should pass.”

You had already had the male nurse place the mask on your face when you heard the doctor say laughing gas. It was too late to decline it; you could feel yourself relaxing into a stupor of content, the pain gone. 

Jungkook’s hand felt nice. So warm, you thought. And attached to such a beautiful man. Wow. You wince a little when the orthopedic doctor and male nurse pop your ankle back into place, but once it’s over, you sigh as you sink into the pillow.

“Jungkooooo..” you turn your eyes to him, admiring the way his hair frames his face. God, you love that man.

“What’s up, Sweet cheeks?”

“Koo… you’re so pretty.”

He blushes, ears turning bright red along with his cheeks.

“Sweet cheeks, hush. Just relax.”

“No seriously, Koo… you’re beautiful. I love you.”

“I love you too, Y/n,  you're my best friend.”

“No Koo,  I like, really love you.  Like I want to have your babies love you.”  You turn your head to the side, cheek resting on the pillow as you gaze longingly at your best friend. He was staring at you now no longer in shock from the ankle injury; it now seemed he was dealing with disbelief at the words you were saying.

“God Koo, I've loved you for so long,” you sigh as you reach out to grasp his hand; his hand feels clammy but you're too high on laughing gas to notice. You have no way of knowing that his heart is beating fast in his chest, so fast he feels like it might pump its way straight out of his body.

“You love me? Not, like, as a best friend, but more?”

“Practically since the day we met, remember that day, Koo?  In art class?” 

“How could I forget?” Jungkook replies softly.

You giggle, remembering being paired to work together on the 8th grade art project, and you were so in love with the bunny-smile-having desk mate, yet so afraid to befriend him. That project had gotten you both a good grade, but had changed the course of your life. You found your best friend in that bunny smile, the mole beneath his bottom lip, the scratch in his cheek.

Jungkook stands, moving to you and grasps the mask that is over your nose.

“Time to take this off, sweet cheeks. 5 minutes are up.”

As he leans over and removes the mask from your face, you can’t help yourself. You grasp his shirt and pull yourself up to meet his lips with your own.

Magic. Fireworks. His lips are softer than you imagined, soft as the Cloud 9 you are floating on as you slot your top lip between his lips, pulling his plump bottom lip into your mouth. The kiss feels perfect, and you pull away after a few seconds, falling back onto the pillow behind you. 

The nitrous oxide has made you feel relaxed and calm, and you close your eyes, content. You miss the way he stands there watching you, having felt his whole world shift, coming into focus with you at the center. 

3 hours later from leaving the campsite and Jungkook has you in the car, fitted with a boot and crutches, a prescription for painkillers in your lap that had just finished getting filled at the pharmacy, and some kindling. You had a slight headache, the side effects of the Nitrous Oxide, as well as impaired memory and increased sleepiness. You had been drifting in and out of sleep since you had been given a pain killer when the doctor arrived back to give you the boot and crutches, discharge papers and the prescription to fill. The ER was busy as you were wheeled out of it by Jungkook, who headed towards the pharmacy. You could see people in all states of injury, sporting small burns, a few broken bones here and there, and the wildest was the man with a barbecue fork in his hand wrapped in a kitchen towel. The fourth of July was one of the busiest days for Emergency Rooms, and this year appeared to be no different. 

You barely registered when Jungkook parked the car and turned off the engine, peacefully napping with your head against the cool glass of the window. He looked over at you after he unbuckled his seatbelt, reaching out to sweep your hair back away from your face.

“Sweet cheeks,” he said softly, attempting to wake you. “Hey, we’re back at the campsite.”

“Hmm?” You turn your head slowly opening your eyes as you take in his proximity, his face inches from yours as his hand continues to remain on your skin; palm to your cheek as his thumb gently strokes your cheek.

“We’re back Y/n, let’s get you in our tent so you can rest.”

“Okay,” you mumble, reaching sleepily to undo your seatbelt and open your door. Jungkook pulls away and rushes to get around the other side of the car to help you. The campsite was empty, but he could see some of the boys fishing down by the river and hear the laughter of the others nearby. Normally Jungkook would be wanting to join them, but today, he didn’t want to leave your side. He carried you from the car to your now tent, the air mattress that had previously been outside was placed inside next to Namjoon’s, and he knelt down to lay you on it. You were surprised to feel him slide in next to you, grabbing the thin sheet to put over you both. He wrapped an arm tentatively around your waist and pulled your back to his chest, and you fell asleep like that, feeling safe in his arms.

--

“Hey, guys, the fireworks are gonna start soon!” Jimin’s excited voice pierced through your sleep, waking you up from your nap. You try and roll over, but are pinned down by the heavy arm of your favorite person.

“Jungkook! Get up! Fireworks time!” You’re loud, and he finally wakes, groggy sleep eyes as he deciphers the words you are saying to him. Jimin runs off, and you can hear the boys laughing as the sounds of sparklers and poppers go off, the patter of their feet as they chase each other making you want to go out and join them.

It takes you a few minutes to get situated and meet everyone over by the edge to watch the fireworks, but Jungkook doesn’t leave your side and you are grateful. He wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close so you can lean on him, and he’s so buddy staring down at you that he jumps when the first fireworks go off. 

“It’s so pretty, Koo, look!” you point out an exceptionally bright purple shimmering firework in the sky.

“Yea, it is.” You don’t notice at first that he’s not looking at the sky; he’s looking at you.

When you do notice, you turn away from the light show and meet his eyes, the fireworks reflecting in them.

“Koo?”

“I love you, Y/n.”

You freeze, muscles tense as you stare at him, baffled.

“Wha--?”

“You… I know how you feel about me. And I wanted to tell you I feel the same. I love you. Like in a ‘kiss you under the fireworks, someday have my babies’ kind of way.”

Your face is warm, heat rising to the surface of your skin as you attempt to duck your head, but his free hand gently grasps your chin while the one around your shoulders guides your body to face him and rests on your back.

“Can I?”

You don’t know what he’s asking, but you could never say no to him. Not when his floofy hair was framing his face, his doe eyes were pleading with you, and he was so close…

You nod, and a breath later his lips are on yours. 

The sounds of the fireworks don’t drown out the whooping and whistling you hear from your friends as they witness the blossoming of a relationship they all knew was inevitable. But all you hear is your heartbeat, pulsing in time with Jungkook’s as he wraps both arms around you and pulls you closer to him. 

Pulling back from him, you have a weird sense of deja vu, and tell him as much.

Smirking, he looks down into your eyes and reveals that this indeed was not your first kiss.

“When did we? How?”

“In the hospital. You grabbed my shirt and pulled me to you for a kiss when I removed your laughing gas mask.”

Your brain is able to recall some of what Jungkook is saying, but before you can be embarrassed he leans down your ear, his lips grazing the outer edge as he whispers.

“Sweet cheeks, don’t worry, I’m glad you did it.” He kissed the tender spot below your ear. “It felt right. I think I’ve always known it’s you… I just didn’t know how to approach it.” Another kiss to your jawline. “But I love you. And now you’re mine.”

His eyes sparkled as the last of the fireworks burst in the air.

“I’m yours.”

[bnhavibes]

Can u do a fluff fic where the reader has night terrors and bakubabe happens to be there when its happening like comfort and stuff

Thanks for the request!! I usually write dark stuff so this is more true to my roots :) I am 110% an angst and hurt/comfort kind of gal, so there’s plenty of that. 

-Brit, @slut-zawa

Ao3

Rating: Teen, some language, TW for slightly disturbing imagery; it’s nightmares, yo. Hurt/comfort, angst, some fluff I promise!!!!!!!! SOFT BAKU 

It’s written like poetry in some places. Also I take metaphors too far?? It’s not actually real, I just like to confuse people 🙃

Word Count: ~1k

Breath with me || Bakugou x reader

“Hey. Hey, wake up!” 

You awoke with a start, heart pounding dangerously fast in your chest, banging at the walls of your rib cage. 

Trying to claw its way out. Wheezes were audible in the shrill air and it took you a moment—and the concerned male voice next to you—to realize that the noise was you struggling to breathe. You were convinced that if you looked down, there would be an elephant lying on your chest for how impossible it was to fully inflate your lungs. The pressure on your chest grew and grew until your ribs creaked and bent dangerously, a few cracking under the invisible weight. 

You opened your mouth in a silent shriek. It was so terrifying and painful that you would have cried out audibly, but with shattered ribs you couldn’t move, much less breathe deeply enough to scream.

A gentle shake to your shoulders made you vaguely aware that Bakugou had been saying your name in futile attempts to orient you. 

“Why wohn the elephant gedoff my chest?” You sucked in air greedily, constricted throat giving a strained cry. “Can’tbreathecan’tbreathe,” you mumbled incoherently between shaky breaths.

“What? There’s no elephant. Calm down!” 

“It broke my ribs! ican’tbreathe oh my god, please help me.” 

“Nothing’s broken. You’re okay.” Bakugou repeated your name to grab your attention, calloused hand cupping your chin. “Look at me.”

Unsure of how you managed, you found him, gazing into those deep eyes. You could stare into those pits of sanguine galaxies for an eternity; they were as endless as time itself. They held such pure, ruby love for you, and you clung on, grasping for some stability. You felt close to death, overcome with terror and confusion but you were certain of one thing: he was the sole antidote.

Bakugou. Your everything.

Crimson eyes blown wide, the sharp lines of his face were softened in concern and twisted with something somewhat foreign. Horror.

Suddenly his face became shrouded in stygian mist as your vision blacked out. Oh fuck, oh fuck. 

No! Don’t take him away from me. Again.

You were drowning. Stuck awash at sea during a hurricane. Your arms flapped frantically about, splashing and thrashing the swells of murky water to keep afloat. The harsh undercurrent taunted you, pulling at your legs, curling you toward its event horizon. You became heavier, soaked with no air in your lungs to hold you up against the torrential, chilling waves. 

There was a distant echo of a voice, but nothing could save you now, head sloshing under. Still you stuck your hand up, futilely attempting to pull yourself back to the surface. But there was nothing to grab onto. Something under the waves called to you, enchanting and deep and dangerous. Beckoning.

Sinking.

                   Down.

                                              Lower.

It’s silent now. 

The taste of salinity makes its way into your mouth. You realize it’s because you’re screaming. But no sound comes out. Only bubbles and salt. 

No one can hear you and you’re still melting down into the abyss, calling out for Katsuki.

Katsuki.

That distant voice says your name again. This time it’s startling.

“Just breathe with me.” 

A hand plunges into the water to pull you out. Your savior’s low voice envelops you, keeping you grounded. Suddenly you can breathe again. It’s welcome, but just as terrifying as drowning. 

The sound of Katsuki taking a deliberately deep inhale brought you back to the room where you could feel his rising chest moving your head with it. You were cradled against him, strong arms secured around your shaking figure.

You could hear the echoes of your love’s scream as he fell. Why did this have to happen again? Curling in harder on yourself, the tears overflowed, pouring down your paled cheeks. Hands scrunched up the soft fabric of the white shirt in front of you.

You attempted to focus on what sensory experiences linked you to the here and now.  Bakugou’s hand trailing through your hair as he whispered reassuring words in your ear. His soft lips kissed away your tears.

After a moment you could finally look at him again, still quaking gently, with uneven breaths coming slower.

“I’m sorry. I—I don’t, I can’t.” You began to cry again. As much as you wanted to tell your boyfriend what had happened, you genuinely couldn’t force the words out. You had always hated being a burden, and you felt like one now. It was embarrassing. Only children had nightmares that made them wake up screaming.

“Hey. Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. Is there anything I can do?” 

“Hold me,” a sob broke your sentence, “please.” 

He laid down with you, placing your head on his chest, wrapping his toned arms securely around your back. One hand carded through your locks and stroked your neck while the other drew reassuring circles over your back. 

The two of you just breathed together. No words. Just complete synchrony.

A familiar warmth settled in your stomach, stretching to your toes, like a cat curling up to fall asleep. And fall asleep you did, slowly but surely. Katsuki smiled down at your slumbering figure, soft features finally peaceful. He was unequivocally mesmerized at the way your mouth opened slightly with each inhale. How your lashes fluttered ever so much. Still stroking your hair, his heart began to pound as he dared to say words he never had before.

“I love you.”  

He could have sworn you smiled in your sleep.

A/N: This was actually inspired by something strange that happened to me. One morning in seventh grade I was getting ready for school when my vision blacked out and I started hyperventilating. I went to my mom’s room and just kept repeating “I can’t see, I can’t see.” I think it was a panic attack. Not sure, though. It lasted like five minutes and has never happened again. It was kinda terrifying; I thought I was going to die. Who knew it would inspire angsty anime fanfiction years later?

[emotionalsupporthufflepuff]

The following drabble is 1000% crack! And shouldn't be taken seriously at all.

Inspired by the usual my alphabetaenabler master photo manipulator @talonwillow . A follow up to another drabble in which Draco retains the ability to turn into a ferret

This was definitely the last time he was doing it. 

He was a teacher,  a potions master, a perfectly respected member of society now. He didn’t need to go sneaking about the castle, spying on his fellow professors in the bath. 

But he never stopped thinking about her.  During his waking hours, he thought about her voice, her smile, the bounce of her curls when she walked. In his dreams he thought about her knickers still stashed away in his things. The way her thighs had looked peeking out from under her nightshirt, rubbing together in embarrassment and her arse bent over the desk in jeans before his father bailed him out.  

She'd come to Hogwarts just a year after he had, taking over as the librarian. Maybe being an Auror had just proven to be too stressful, or maybe she wanted a change of scenery- either way, Hermione Granger's presence had driven him to his old ways. She wore poorly-tailored robes, and her hair slicked back into an immaculate bun, not a curl out of place; she was a far cry from the Granger he'd gotten a taste of. 

Sliding behind a tapestry, he closed his eyes and shifted into his ferret self again, having to crawl down his trouser legs to free himself from the pile of clothes, hoping that a student didn't come across them. 

His sharp sense of hearing made the sounds of running water nearby almost thunderous ,and the vibrations carried under his paws. He scampered towards the sound until off-key humming told him what he needed to know for sure. 

Hermione Granger was taking her Saturday night bath. 

Careful not to let his long nails click on the stone floor, he snuck around the circle of sinks until he could see her, stripping off her robes down to her  plain white bra and knickers. For the first time, he could see the  expanse of her back and the freckles that dotted it, and the full curve of her arse, unimpeded by baggy uniforms. 

He sorely wished he was human. A human with a camera, maybe one of those movie things muggles used. 

The overwhelming scent of vanilla wafted through the air as he realized she must have added some oil to her bath. He would get the name of it and buy massive vats of the stuff just to smell it like this every day for the rest of his life. 

The lid fell off the bottle and started to roll his way. Looking around wildly for a place to hide, his animal hindbrain screamed GET THE TOY instead of corroborating on anything useful. 

She turned and looked right at him. Arching his back high, he performed the most threatening war dance he couldn't manage.  Granger just laughed and scooped him up around the middle. 

"You're actually cute like this, Malfoy. " He nipped at her hand in response, then licked the spot out of guilt. She tasted like a vanilla cake, and his human brain became overwhelmingly curious. Holding him to face her at eye level, she ran a finger over the fur between his ears. "Soft too."

She gave another laugh as he nudged her hand to pet him again. 

"So here's what's going to happen. I won’t tell anyone about this if you join me in the bath. You’re probably already naked." He squeaked in response. "Yes, I'll summon your clothes, now hop too." 

She placed him on the stone floor and went to her own effects to summon his clothes. He took one last second to admire her backside from the angle before forcing himself back to normal. 

When he was oriented, he noticed his clothes were folded next to hers with his wand resting on top.Hermione was sinking beneath the water of the tub, sighing a sound that made his cock twitch. 

Not for the first time, Draco wished he wasn't so bloody tall. Bathtubs and mattresses were the enemies and particularly stubborn in transfiguration. As gracefully as he could manage, he carefully joined her, awkwardly folding his legs until the tub magically expanded on its own for him. It was close but not uncomfortable, as the soft skin of her legs brushed against his, making him twitch.  The water just covered her breasts and distorted the light enough to where he couldn't see below it.  

Cinnamon colored eyes examined him thoroughly, cataloging the scars and tattoos dotted across his body. If she had any judgments, she kept them to herself. 

"So was it worth it? Risking another appearance in the paper just to see me?" She pushed a stray curl behind her ear. The heat made her face shine and color rise in her cheeks. 

"Very worth it."

"Must have been some bet then." 

"What? No..there was no betting." He licked his lips nervously. "I acted of my own accord." 

A crimson blush came over her. "Did you? To see me, like this?" 

"No, Granger, I love having a tail, it's a thrilling sensation. Yes to see you. Though I can't see much, I really quite like what I can see." 

She rubbed her thighs together as her lips parted with a soft whine. "Sorry...it's been a moment, and you're not half bad yourself." 

He chuckled quietly. "Not half bad, way to inflate the ego, Granger." 

Leaning forward, she put a hand flat on his chest, and Draco wondered if she could feel his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

 "What I should say, is that this version of you is much more appealing than the other one."  She was so close he could count the freckles under her eyes and see the fleck of gold in her irises. Her eyes were focused on his lips - 

 "OHHH MYRTLE PEEVES SAYS IT'S BATHTIME. " 

 "Oh shit." Hermione reached over the side of the tub and vanished the water with her wand. 

" Nooooooo Peeves noooo-" Myrtle’s wail bounced off the walls. 

"Do the ferret thing-" she whispered, pulling on her clothes. Draco did as instructed, not having any better ideas that didn't include streaking through the castle. The racket of Peeves tormenting Myrtle with a torrent of water well drowned out any noise they made.  

Once he was a ferret again, Hermione tucked him into her inner robe pocket. Draco curled himself in as small as he could but kept his line of sight on above him. 

Hermione hadn't bothered to put a bra back on and though the view was distorted in black and white, it was still glorious to behold. 

The scraping of stone on stone told him she was on one of the moving staircases, heading up, and up again. His tiny heart thrummed with excitement. 

A heavy door clicked shut, and a light suddenly filled his vision, blinding him temporarily. The air smelled like vanilla, Jasmine, old books, and Hermione. 

"Okay, I brought you back to my room to finish what we started…" 

[ckret2]

Heal Our Wounds

Long after the titan fight in Boston, Serizawa wakes up in a hospital bed, recovering unusually fast from radiation burns he only vaguely remembers receiving. Monarch immediately drowns him in love and attention.

Mark and Madison drop by to share a gift—and some of their post-Boston worries.

Has it really been two and a half months since the last fic, wtf. Anyway this is part of an ongoing series of post-KOTM almost-everybody-lives AU oneshots. If you don’t wanna read the others, all you need to know is that Serizawa survived and nobody knows how/why (answer: because I wanted him to), and Ghidorah's been chilling with Rodan and possibly dating him. Links to the other fics are in the source at the bottom of this post.

###

The first thing Serizawa noticed as Mark and Madison came into the hospital room was that they both had dark rings under their eyes. Serizawa was getting used to seeing his friends and colleagues like that. But they both smiled and their tired eyes lit up when they saw him.

He returned the smiles. "So! You've finally made time to visit me, eh?" he said chidingly, as if they'd just dropped in on him and not as if Mark had scheduled this visit a week earlier.

Madison immediately ran up to him for a hug. Mark reached out for her, mouth opened to warn her back; but Serizawa held up a hand to prevent Mark's protests. "It's fine," he mouthed to Mark over Madison's shoulder as he hugged her back.

"Wow," Mark said. "You're looking better already. A lot better."

Serizawa nodded and shrugged at the same time. "The doctors say I've been very fortunate," he said. "I think Gojira had a hand in it."

He wasn't sure Mark bought that, but Mark had the grace to keep his mouth shut and just tilt his head indecisively.

"How are you feeling?" Madison asked as she stood up.

"A little sore," Serizawa said. "But mostly tired. I've been recovering well, though."

Madison circled to the other side of Serizawa's bed so she could sit in the guest chair next to him. Mark followed her, but leaned against the bedside table. Serizawa really did have to ask the nurses if they could bring some more chairs into the room. Since he'd been cleared to receive visitors, his room had become a nonstop parade during visiting hours: Monarch staff and their families, government officials and sometimes their translators looking for advice on how to deal with their respective nations' new gigantic residents, various journalists and reporters interviewing him on current events and his involvement in the mass awakening of the titans...

And everyone seemed to start out with the same question: "I know you've told everyone that you don't remember how you made it from the bottom of the ocean all the way to Boston," Mark said hesitantly, "but...?" He shrugged questioningly. "I mean—anything? Weird dreams? Things you heard while you were unconscious...?"

Serizawa shook his head. "Nothing. I don't even remember the bomb going off. The last thing I recall is getting out of the submarine and seeing Gojira. And then waking up in a hospital, burning."

"Huh." Mark let out a long sigh, mouth twisted in confusion. "Well—whatever happened down there—and whatever's making you recover from your burns so well—we're all glad for it.”

"Gojira," Serizawa said again firmly.

"He's probably right, Dad," Madison piped up. "I've been reading about the effects of titan radiation. It starts out like radiation burns, but something about it makes organic matter heal a lot faster instead of just... breaking it down."

"Really," Mark said skeptically.

"Really! It's the same thing that makes plants grow back so fast in the cities that titans have been through! The research has been out for like three years, Dad," Madison said, rolling her eyes.

"There's a great deal we don't understand yet, but—what Madison says is true," Serizawa said, trying not to smile too broadly. Madison had always been such a precocious child, always talking about whatever interested her. For the longest time it had been insects; recently it had been camping and survival techniques—something that only in retrospect Serizawa realized was so worrisome. He was glad to hear her talking about science again.

"But we're not here to talk about that," Madison said quickly, practically squirming in her chair with obvious eagerness to move on to the next topic. She gave her dad a pointed look.

"Right!" Mark took off a satchel he'd slung across his body and opened the flap. "We—'we' meaning Monarch, basically—wanted to give you a 'get well soon' gift. Rick mostly put it together, but we all contributed the pictures."

"Pictures?" Serizawa asked.

"Of your new friends," Mark said, suppressing a smile. He pulled out a tablet, scrolled through it a moment, and offered it to Serizawa. "From all over the world. I'll email it to you, but we wanted to show it to you in person."

Serizawa took the tablet. When he noticed Madison leaning over the bed to watch too, he held it out farther to allow her and Mark to watch. It was a slideshow, the first slide of which said in large letters, "GET WELL SOON!!" and in smaller text, "from Monarch and the titans."

He swiped to the next slide.

Godzilla stared back at him with eyes crossed and snout smooshed up to the window of Castle Bravo.

Serizawa laughed.

He swiped through the notes and images, pausing to read the well-wishing messages from Monarch agents and their allies—some close friends, some he'd only spoken to once or twice—and to examine the pictures and clips they'd put together for him.

A video of Rodan dramatically bobbing and headbanging in time to a Spanish song. An attached caption mentioned that after recording Rodan bobbing to over twenty different songs and sending them to a comparative psychologist in California, they could definitively say that Rodan was actually meeting the official definition for "dancing"—deliberately moving in sync with the beat of the music—and he was better at keeping the beat than parrots, one of the few other categories of non-human dancers.

Several pictures showed Kraken hanging out next to various Monarch ships, mimicking the ships' paint jobs. In some of the pictures, he even displayed unintelligible lines across his head that looked like attempts to copy the text and symbols printed on the ships' sides.

The Chen twins included a selfie of themselves and Mothra, as well as a message they said was translated directly from Mothra herself: a sincere wish for Serizawa to either get well soon or have a smooth reincarnation if he didn't, and a thank you from both her and Godzilla for saving Godzilla. Apparently Godzilla thought of Serizawa as "the flashy human." (Serizawa had to pause to wipe his eyes before continuing to the next slide.)

Pictures of Behemoth moving heavy objects around for humans with patient amusement. A photo of "Quetzalcoatl" half obscured by the sea with a brief message informing Serizawa that, in action, Quetzalcoatl appeared to more closely resembled myths about a creature called "Manda." Poems, with an apologetic note that they were better in Arabic, that one of the Monarch agents at Outpost 75-B had written about Mokele-Mbembe.

A short note from Admiral Stenz that wryly said, "Even the Navy is having to adjust to your new friends," followed by an image of Ghidorah reclined on an aircraft carrier like a vacationer on an inflatable pool lounge.

From the corner of his eye, Serizawa saw Madison flinch. He looked up at her; her face had gone blank, but there was a terrible fear in her eyes. Mark put a hand on her shoulder.

Serizawa turned off the tablet and set it down on the bed. "Perhaps I should look at these when I don't have visitors."

Madison's gaze dropped. "I'm gonna..." She slipped out of her father's hand and circled around Serizawa's bed. "Gonna get a soda. M'thirsty."

Mark reached out for her. "Maddie..." But she'd already disappeared down the hallway. He sighed, sank down into the seat she'd vacated, and ran his fingers through his hair.

Serizawa let the silence settle for a moment before he quietly said, "She's been through a great deal."

"Has anyone told you that she got up close and personal with the Three Stooges? They saw each other. They interacted."

Serizawa shook his head, sitting up a little straighter. He'd heard that she'd made herself quite the hero—sneaking away from Jonah's terrorist gang with the ORCA; single-handedly breaking whatever control Ghidorah had over the titans; luring Ghidorah, Godzilla, Mothra, and Rodan to Boston where they could settle their differences. It had been clear just how much danger she'd been in; but he'd never imagined that danger.

"She says she was as close to him as..." Mark looked out the window and pointed, "as that tree." The tree was near enough that Serizawa could see how the surfaces of individual leaves curved and rippled. "He looked directly at her—all three heads. He tried to kill her. Blasted..." Mark tried to pantomime with his hand in front of his mouth. "Blasted that lightning of his."

A chill ran down Serizawa's back. He'd known Madison since she was born. The thought of her ending like that, incinerated by an enraged titan...

"She's changed so much," Mark went on. "She's having trouble sleeping. She's sullen, she's so serious... Even the sound of the air conditioning coming on makes her jump. And I don't know how much of that is everything she went through, how much of it is whatever—whatever eco-fascist brainwashing Jonah put her and Emma through, how much of it's just her being a teenager..." Mark trailed off helplessly.

There was frustration in his voice and guilt in his eyes.

"I—maybe I'd know if I'd—been around. If I'd seen her often enough to know what she's like."

"You're around her now," Serizawa pointed out. "You cannot change your past actions, but you can support her now when she needs you."

Mark nodded reluctantly. "I just... wish I knew how."

That was where Serizawa's sage advice ran out. His child rearing experience capped out at entertaining agents' kids with titan stories and pocket watch jokes in fifteen-minute bursts of babysitting. "Have you... looked into therapy?"

"I'm her father. I should be able to help her through this myself," Mark insisted. He shifted his position uncomfortably. "And everyone's booked up."

Serizawa tisked.

"But Maddie's... she's strong." Mark sounded like he was repeating something someone else had told him, not something he quite believed himself. "She'll pull through this."

Serizawa could remember all the times over the past couple of years that Emma had boasted about what a strong young woman Maddie was developing into—a boast that, knowing what he knew now about what Emma had been training Madison for, was more chilling in hindsight. He wondered if Mark had been visiting Emma in jail to talk to her about Maddie.

Strong or not, though, facing down a titan attack and being responsible for saving the world was an astounding weight to put on anyone's shoulders, much less a twelve-year-old's. Pile enough weight on even the strongest structure, and eventually it buckles.

Mark muttered, "I can't believe he's still running around."

Serizawa didn't have to ask who. Mark's gaze was aimed at the tablet's black screen.

"If that thing was dead, maybe... I don't know, maybe Maddie wouldn't constantly feel like she has to watch her back. Like she's afraid he'll come back and finish the job."

Serizawa shifted to sit up higher. "I understand how your daughter's pain must pain you too," he said. "But that's no reason to condemn a living creature to death."

"It's not just that. He's dangerous, you know he is." Mark held up a hand before Serizawa could say anything else. "I know, I know—I should be making peace with the titans. I have with most of them. I don't think I'm at the point where I'd invite Godzilla to my birthday party, but he's on my Christmas card list."

From what Serizawa understood about American Christmas card customs, he was pretty sure that making someone's list was faint praise.

"But Ghidorah? He's not like the others. The others just... accidentally flatten human cities. To them it's like stepping on an anthill without looking. Ghidorah is that sick kid who holds a magnifying glass over an anthill. He's evil. Even you've felt it!"

Serizawa couldn't argue with that. He had seen Ghidorah up close in Antarctica—seen the way his eyes darted about, picking out humans across the ice so he could crush them. He'd seen the malice in Ghidorah's gaze. He'd seen the rage, too—a fury that had smoldered for eons, a fury that was older than the human race. He'd seen the light flashing off Ghidorah's eyes and teeth as he'd singled out Vivienne and devoured her.

But was what he saw in Ghidorah's eyes so different from the rage he'd seen in Mark's eyes when Mark had set foot in a Monarch facility for the first time in years, when Mark had snarled that all titans must be executed? Or the cold malice in Emma's eyes when she'd declared from the safety of a terrorist's bunker that human civilization had to be scoured from the Earth? If either of them had been Ghidorah's size, would Mark have been any kinder to Godzilla or would Emma have to Boston? Serizawa had his doubts.

There was no anger that wasn't somehow inspired by pain, by suffering, by fear. Even though Serizawa could still see Vivienne disappearing into Ghidorah's jaws over and over when he closed his eyes, there was some part of him that wondered what it was Ghidorah feared so deeply. And for that, Serizawa pitied him.

"You yourself called Ghidorah a false king," Mark went on. "You know he doesn't belong on this world."

"That is true," Serizawa said. "But he could belong. There is room enough on our world for him to find a place he fits."

"Wh—" Mark leaned away from Serizawa, blinking in disbelief. "How does a false king fit in on Earth?!"

"By learning to act like a citizen, instead of a conqueror."

"I—Wh—You don't think he's going to just do that, do you? Out of the goodness of his big, lightning-spewing heart? Before he floods the planet, or—or challenges Godzilla for leadership again?"

"What has he been doing since Boston?" Serizawa thought he already knew—although he wasn't currently working, he was receiving regular reports from several outposts, mainly from people who thought he'd enjoy hearing them—but he wanted to hear the answer in Mark's own words.

"Well, he—he's been skulking near Rodan's volcano, mostly. Throwing any trailers or tech we try to so much as get on the edge of the volcanic rock back into the village. He's been learning Rodan's language—did you know Rodan has a language—?"

Serizawa nodded. "I'm subscribed to Dr. Flores Rosales's YouTube channel."

That almost got a smile out of Mark. "Of course," he said. "Rodan's even been teaching him... more complicated calls. So the next time he tries to take over, he's going to be able to give the other titans direct orders. And he's been exploring the planet. Learning the landscape. Playing with our weather—he diverts entire hurricanes like they're nothing. He turns over tanks like they're toys. Experimenting with human technology—our technology. Studying how we work."

Serizawa nodded again, absorbing that analysis.

"Getting a better understanding of our planet," Mark concluded. "He's going to be better prepared the next time he attacks it. The longer we wait, the more prepared he gets."

Serizawa took a moment to process that, collect his words, and then reply carefully. "I can understand how his actions appear to you," he said. "And perhaps that is what Ghidorah is doing—studying us, toying with us. But when I look at those same things, here's what I see. Ghidorah has found a home—perhaps a temporary one, perhaps more permanent. He's established the borders of what he feels like is his territory, and when we respect his boundaries, he has respected ours. He's learning to communicate with his neighbors through words instead of through violence. He's shown us that his species sings—that he understands art. He's shown us he has a sense of humor. He's discovering that the earth is covered in unique, fascinating places, and that humans aren't playthings to torture and kill but inventors and engineers. He's made a friend—a friend whose lessons and advice he will sit and listen to, a friend whom he goes to great lengths to protect from discomfort, and a friend who he seems to care for."

Mark also took a long moment to think over Serizawa's words. He was growing a little bit, Serizawa thought. If they'd had this conversation before Boston, Mark would more than likely have steamrolled over Serizawa's interpretation and clung to his own—as he had with so many other opinions he'd had for so many years. Maybe discovering he was wrong about Godzilla had made him a more thoughtful person. Or maybe he was just working to be more respectful because Serizawa was in the hospital—time would tell.

Finally, Mark said, "A 'friend' who he fights with. All the time. Rodan clawed his wing up pretty good in Antarctica."

"And then kept him warm through the night, stayed near him for the next few days, and reactivated a volcano that's been dormant for four thousand years to give him a place to rest. I don't think it was a fight fueled by hatred," Serizawa said. "Have you been watching Rodan's language lessons as well?"

"A few. Not as many as I should," Mark admitted. "It's hard to look at—I mean—Ghidorah tried to kill me and my daughter."

Serizawa nodded understandingly. He had just about gotten used to the sight of Ghidorah curiously ask Rodan to clarify what the word "many" meant, and even at that Serizawa still sometimes instead flashed to a memory of Vivienne's last moments. "You should ask Xochitl if she has transcripts," Serizawa said. "Ghidorah and Rodan squabble over which fights 'count' and 'don't count' like two children trying to cheat at a board game. They see their battles as play."

"Huh," Mark said. "Like...?" He didn't finish the question.

Serizawa gestured encouragingly at Mark to continue. He had a feeling he knew where Mark had been heading.

"Well." Shrugging self-consciously, Mark said, "You know the joke theory that Outpost 56-B's been putting forward."

An amused smile broke out across Serizawa's face. "That Rodan and Ghidorah might be...?"

"Courting," Mark mumbled, shaking his head in disbelief. "That what we're seeing is courting behavior. Or—or dating, are they intelligent enough to date? I mean, Ghidorah's building radios..."

"I think there's some potential to the theory," Serizawa said, still grinning. "Outpost 56-B has collected some very compelling evidence. It's not conclusive, but it's certainly suggestive."

"Suggestive." Mark shook his head again and rubbed his eyes. "There's no way they're reproductively compatible."

"Not all couples are. Either in the animal kingdom, or in our own species."

"So, is that the bet you're wagering?" Mark asked. "You think we shouldn't try to kill Ghidorah while we still have a chance because if he decides to settle down and make a big fiery nest with Rodan, he won't destroy our planet?"

Serizawa sobered up. "No," he said. "I think we shouldn't try to kill Ghidorah because his behavior suggests he no longer wants to kill us. It suggests that he is trying to leave conquering behind and trying to behave like a fellow citizen of our planet—cooperative, respectful of the other species he shares the world with, communicative with his neighbors despite the massive language barriers. If that changes, through Mothra we can call Gojira for help. If it doesn't change... then if Ghidorah is seeking redemption, I think we should let him seek it. Whatever his motive may be."

Mark thought that over, lips pursed. Finally, he said, "I hope you're right. You've been right about a lot of other things, but..." He sighed.

It would take Mark some time to accept. That was understandable; Serizawa saw no need to rush him. Ghidorah had directly threatened Mark's family, after all. But Godzilla had ultimately helped cause far greater harm to the Russell family—harm that couldn't be healed with time—and Mark had made peace with him. If Ghidorah's recent behavior really was indicative of a change, Serizawa was sure Mark could eventually make peace with Ghidorah, too.

For now, though, Serizawa should probably lighten the mood. A bit of humor creeping back into his voice, Serizawa said, "But, if it does turn out that what we've been observing on Isla de Mara is courting..."

Mark gave Serizawa a wary look. "What?"

"Do you remember what you said when we were trying to figure out why Ghidorah was heading toward Isla de Mara?" Serizawa asked.

"Oh no." Mark buried his face in a hand, but not before Serizawa got a glimpse of him fighting back a smile. "Not you, too. Nobody's let me live it down."

"You said he wanted a food, a fight, or a..."

"I know! What about it?"

"Well, then." Serizawa sat back, shrugged permissively, and said, "Let them fuck."

Mark huffed.

The conversation drifted to how their respective extended families had weathered the attacks and the corresponding changes to their daily lives, to Mark's tentative plans to balance getting back into Monarch against keeping Madison away from any active outposts, and to Serizawa's goals for once he was back on duty. Serizawa planned to return to work as soon as he was allowed out of the hospital.

"And to visit all of them," he said firmly, "the moment the doctors allow me on an airplane. If I can't take a plane, I'll ride a boat."

 Mark chuckled. "All of them? Even the mean ones?"

"No such thing," Serizawa said confidently. "Maybe hurting, maybe distrustful of humans—or maybe so far removed from our cultures that they don't yet recognize humans as feeling people—but not mean."

"So you gonna go open up diplomacy with the titans on behalf of humanity?" Mark asked. "Go say 'hi' and have a little chat like you did with Godzilla?"

Serizawa smiled. "If they'll let me."

Madison finally came back in the room, smiling shakily but clearly calmer than when she'd left. She didn't have anything from the vending machine. Neither Serizawa nor Mark commented on it.

"Afraid this is leaving with me," Mark said, picking up his tablet from the bed. "But I'll email you the slideshow. They let you have your phone in here, right?"

"I have a new one." His old one had been with him during his meeting with Godzilla. It hadn't shared Serizawa's miraculous survival. Rick Stanton had helped him get all his old data out of "the cloud" onto his new phone, and once he had his photos back he liked his new phone better. It was bigger.

"We'll come back as soon as we can," Maddie said as she leaned in for a hug, then looked to her dad for confirmation.

"Of course," Mark said, nodding, "unless you manage to talk your way out of here before we find time to come by again."

Serizawa grinned. As much as he might want to, he probably needed to be able to walk out the door by himself before he could go. "If you don't come see me before I get out, I'll come see you." He had a whole list of people he needed to visit.

The last thing Mark said before he left was, "Get some rest. You've still got a lot of recovering to do."

On more than one level. "I will." Glancing between Mark and Maddie's tired faces, Serizawa said, "So do you."

###

(Do you guys know how long I've been waiting to write Serizawa saying "let them fuck"? Like half a year. Anyway so the “titan radiation heals injuries instead of making them worse” is, obviously, a lot of BS and Not How Radiation Works, but it’s consistent with KOTM’s “titan radiation heals nature and grows plants!!” and with Legendaryverse’s overall lack of people getting severe radiation burns from being so close to confirmed-radioactive kaiju all the time. If canon’s gonna act like kaiju have some made up form of Magical Healthy Radiation, okay, I’ll roll with that.)

(Replies/reblogs are welcome and greatly appreciated! Check the “source” link below for my masterlist of KOTM and Rodorah fics, as well as my AO3 and Ko-fi links.)

[carol-thirteen]

7. unable to breathe

from my september prompt list here

pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

septemper prompts tag list: @disneykid125 @hill-romanoff-potts

natasha romanoff tag list: @i-need-a-doctor-run @5aftermidnight @whitelotus13 @vivwritesmarvel @autumnjackson4

-

How much you wished you werent here. Your body freezing up in the depths of the cold ocean.

How much you wished to be in Natasha’s arms. Warm. Safe.

How much you wished you could breathe again.

You were desperate, she was so close, your fingertips almost touching. You were ready to grab onto her, but you lost your footing on the ledge and you felt your stomach drop as you did. Natasha’s scream lowering in volume as you fell further down.

The water had soaked your clothes. There was no point in trying to fight it anymore, it was too cold. Your legs were numb along with your arms, possibly your entire body.

She saw your body reach the surface of the water fast but not before you had been knocked on the head by some of the rubble that was falling from the craft. Stunned, and unable to reorientate yourself, you splashed into the water. Face first, earning a sharp slap across the front of your body.

When you didn’t come up, she panicked. She knew you could swim, there must be something else.

“I’m going in after her.” Natasha said firmly, tying up her hair.

“Absolutely not, you arent equipped for this. You don’t even know where she-“

Before Steve could finish, she was gone. She parashooted down, after tucking a small self inflating lifejacker into her waist band.

The freezing cold water had thrown you into shock. Your eyes were tighted squeezed shut, wanting it all to be over.

Your lungs were burning, begging for air but you had to deny them, you didnt have a choice. If you took a breath, you would inhale water and surly drown. You just had to stay conscious until- well, until you got help.

Your ears picked up something, a echoing splash. You wanted to scream for help, but knew that would do nothing but allow the water to enter your body.

No longer struggling or fighting for survival, you let yourself go. Your body untensed and you started to lose consciousness. As you did, you felt abarely warm grip on your forearm, but that was it before the shock and oxygen deprivation got the best of you.

She slipped the lifejacket over your head as she kicked you both up to the surface. Once it was secure, she pulled the tab and you rose faster, breaking up into the air.

Natasha was focused, she had a new mission at hand and that was to not let you die without you knowing how she felt about you. She kept hold of you by the hip, fingers looped around a strap on the lifejacket for extra security.

“Don’t do this to me, please don’t,” she whispered to herself as you got closer to the edge. There was a dock about 2 meters ahead, Natasha wasnt going to give up now despite how pale and empty you looked.

She wanted you out of the water immediately but knew the best way to get you out was for her to get out first. She let you go but quickly pulled herself up onto the newly rotted wood. In one swift motion, you were laying flat. Still.

For a split second Natasha was overwhelmed by the sight of you. You had never looked so vulnerable and unlike yourself. It scared her. So she vowed to not give up on you yet.

With every pump to the chest, she counted breathily. When her fingers lifted your chin, but before her lips touched yours to bring air back into you, she would beg for you to be okay. She begged for you to come back. To come back to her.

She continuted for 10 minutes, never faultering despite the desire to stop and breakdown beside your still form. As soon as Steve arrived at the dock from landside, he jogged over hoping to be of some help. “Oh my- is she...”

“Not yet. I’m not- I can’t.”

“Romanoff, how long-“ Fury had come in close behind Steve, along with the others. Natasha would’ve immediately assumed the mission was complete had she not been so clearly occupied.

“I can’t give up on her.” Natasha kept her hands on your chest, pausing for a moment before looking up at Fury.

“Help is on the way, I’m not asking you to give up. I’m asking how long she’s been down.” He said, his eyes kind. He could tell Natasha was not going to let you die without a fight.

She went back to pressing on your chest, she hoped that by now some colour would have returned to you, but she didn’t notice a change. “About 30 minutes, maybe more.” She prepared herself to breathe life into you again. “It took me 15 to find her,” as she spoke those words she imagined how afraid you would’ve been. She shook the image from her head and forced air into you.

“Come on, please.” Natasha’s head fell to your chest, she was tired. She didn’t want to stop. A hand rested on her shoulder, she turned as her hands fell back on your chest, pressing down, weaker than before.

“Let me,” Steve helped Natasha up, but she only kneeled to the side so he had room.

With a hand on your head, stroking your hair, Natasha hoped with everything she had in her that you would just-

A wet cough erupted from you, as soon as it did, you were pushed onto your side.

“Y/N?” Natasha sniffed, wiping the tears she noticed were falling. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

Natasha’s warm hands were on your back, rubbing circles. You felt the water trickle out of you as you coughed it out onto the dock. A few bodies surrounded you, placing a blanket over you and sitting you upright. Natasha’s arms were around you now, helping you to absorb any heat you could, rubbing your shoulders as well.

You leaned into her, shivvering. “Bit of a close call huh?” You glanced up at her, the remaining light from the sun making the tear stains on her cheeks visable. You lifted your frail hand to her cheek. “Natasha Romanoff...were you crying?”

“Of course I was.” She surprisingly admitted. “You almost died on me.”

“Note: almost,” you spoke raspily, a small smile on your face.

“Y/N...”

“I know,”

“Huh?”

“You think I dont know that you-“

“I love you.”

You blinked slowly, eyes never leaving hers. “You love me? I thought you just-“ And before you knew it, her hands were slowly turning your head and her lips were pressed against yours. It was nice to have some warmth, but you wondered how cold you were against her soft lips.

“Our next kiss will be a little less life threatening. Got it?” Natasha whispered, wiping the hair from your face. You only nodded as butterflies began to flutter throughout your warming body.

[evilpixiea]

My Humble Contribution to Mer!May

Read on if you like Superbat, open endings, and slightly sinister mermaids.

Clark met Bruce on a luxury cruise liner. Or, more accurately, under one.

It was sinking, there were people in the water, more than the rescue workers could reach in time. Clark heard the screams from Metropolis and was there in minutes, fishing the panicked exhausted people out of the sea and flying to the nearby shore where wide eyed onlookers were pointing and filming the stricken ship. “...veered unexpectedly of course and crashed against a rocky outcrop just south…” a news reporter spoke into a camera, her voice clear despite the piercing winds and the shouts of the people. “...Superman has arrived on scene.” He flew back to circle the ship, looking for more people. Most of them were in lifeboats, some were floating in life jackets, waving to rescue crews. That was when he saw him. Underwater. Not moving. A man. His skin pale, hair dark, his side streaming blood. Clark dived, wrapped his arms around the figure, and pulled him towards the surface. “Superman!” He frowned. Arthur was swimming towards him, fast. What’s he doing here? It didn’t matter. He needed to get this man out. Saving life was the first priority. He broke through the waves and hoisted the stranger into the air. Only then did he realise something was wrong. The body in his arms was heavier than it should be… and twisting, mouth gasping, as if he was still drowning. “Sir. Can you hear me? You’re hurt. I’m going to get you to…” That was when Clark saw it. A tail, like that of a dolphin. Long, mottled grey blue, and thrashing back and forth. Struggling. Fighting him. Clark felt claws rake uselessly at the indestructible skin of his arm and when he looked back at the man’s face he saw teeth, sharp and serrated, like a sharks. He cried out in shock and dropped him. The man – the merman – fell back into the water with a loud splash. Clark stared. No. It couldn’t be. Mermen didn’t exist… But, on the other hand, he could fly and shoot lasers out of his eyes. Were merpeople really that strange compared to that? Clark watched as merman quickly orientated himself in the water, hugged his wounded side, and dove to hide in the shadowy underbelly of the sinking ship. “What did you do?” He heard Arthur yell up at him. The sea king was floating in the water, shoving hair out of his face. “Where did it go?” “Is that… eh… an Atlantian?” “That was a nychterída,” he spat, angry. “It may look pretty but it’s from the trench. Where did it go?” That was when Clark noticed Arthur’s trident. It was red with blood. He thought of the wound on the merman’s side. He thought of Arthur’s angry cry. Clark’s eyes flicked down to the merman, still hiding under the cruise ship. “He swam away,” Clark lied. “Which way?!” “I don’t know.” “Damn it!” Arthur shoved at the water causing a wave to surge around him, rocking a nearby lifeboat. “I almost had it.” “Why do you want to hurt him?” “It!” Arthur yelled up at him pointedly. “I was trying to kill it.” “Why?” “It’s what caused this disaster. It was hunting the people. It would have eaten them if I hadn’t come when I did. That’s what those things do. They lure ships off course. Crash them. Kill everyone they can.” Clark looked at the merman. Saw again those teeth. Those claws. He felt sick. “Damn it,” Arthur said again and, without another word turned and dove back below the waves. With a surge of disturbed water, he was gone. Clark looked around. He saw all the people in lifeboats or on the shore, shaken, shivering, but safe. He also saw the merman, hidden from all eyes but his. He looked wounded, weak. Shaking and shivering, just like the people. But those claws were still on his fingers. Those teeth were still in his mouth. Clark could hear the news report the woman had filmed a few minutes airing in a nearby city. “...veered unexpectedly of course and crashed against a rocky outcrop…” Could he really have caused that? Would he really have eaten the people in the water if Arthur hadn’t stopped him? Stabbed him? He saw the merman notice the absence of the sea king and emerge from hiding, still cradling his wounded side. His eyes were a strange pale blue as they scanned the water, turning to the nearest inflatable lifeboat. No… The merman began to move towards them. Teeth barred. Clark dove back into the water and once more grabbed the merman. This time he didn’t let go. He didn’t want to kill him. But he couldn’t let him hurt people either. That left only one option. The Fortress of Solitude had a menagerie full of creatures from all corners of the galaxy. It would be able to, within minutes, read the DNA of the merman and create a suitable home for him. One where he wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone or be hunted down by Aquaman. “Sorry,” Clark said as he gathered the struggling creature into his arms. “This is for the best.” It wasn’t until he was back in the fortress watching the merman swim back and forth in his new tank, side bandaged, that he quietly allowed himself to acknowledge the truth of what Arthur had said. The merman may be a creature of the trench, full of hunger and little else. But he was beautiful, hauntingly so. His face shockingly human, his eyes eerily blue, his body above his fins lean and long. “Hello,” Clark said, to see if he would answer. He didn’t. He just flashed his teeth and kept swimming. Perhaps that was better. He didn’t think he could live with keeping an intelligent species in the fortress, no matter how dangerous it was to leave it in the wild. He sat down to watch the merman swim.

[beatricethecat2]

if/then (2.0) - 20

A few chapters back, I mentioned wrapping this up soon. Flash-forward to now…well, I see where that impulse came from, but also where it falls flat. There needs to be a balance (or as much as I'm capable of) within the narrative arc, so it needs to get pushed farther. That means diving into people and places I'm not as familar with and trying to bring them to life (plus calling back to details and weaving in new ones…you know, writing). So bear with me, it's plotted, but the gaps need filled in. If you’re still on board with this, I thank you heartily. I’m posting two chapters now because I didn't want to leave you hanging at the end of this one. All typos are mine, I’ll do what I can to catch them later (edited 11/30). Look for chapter 21 to be posted soon after this one. Links to other chapters in a reply.

////////////////////////

Despite Morgana’s warnings, the hunt for Helena continues. Myka proceeds with caution, even with Claudia's better-than-government-grade VPN installed on her laptop. Books have become her go-to, with no bots to track or caches to mine. They're slower in the long run but prompt new ideas, which she, in turn, passes off to Claudia.

One thing was certain: even if Helena hadn't planned this ahead of time, Christina’s comfort would be paramount. Cooking classes for kids? After school music activities involving drums? Kempo classes throughout the UK? All searched for and through with little gain. But the question was: how far undercover would Helena and Christina have to go? Was an Interpol intervention different than a regular police one? Claudia watched countless hours of British police shows in hopes of learning more, but was left feeling more paranoid than informed in the end.

Meanwhile, Myka tacked on oddball acquisitions in remote locales to keep from drowning in "what-ifs." There, in relative obscurity, having thrown off her tails, she could scour libraries and bookstores freely. She was at a loss for exactly what to look into, so she grasped onto the list of "Happy Christmases” Helena had taught Christina. She cross-referenced books with internet materials, but kept detailed notes in her sketchbook.

She drew the tiny shape Guernsey and noted the island's pros and cons. At six miles long and three miles wide, it looked like a quaint place to hide. But to travel, they’d need a boat or a plane, and it was closer to France than the UK. And without easy access to a city, Christina wouldn’t be content. She crossed it off the list.

Scottish, she learned, was still spoken in The Outer Hebrides, which, according to one of her guidebooks, boasted an island shaped like an upside-down ice cream cone. Christina would be into that, living on a food-shaped island, so she sketched it out and turned it upside-down. She didn’t exactly see the resemblance, but that wasn’t important. What was: the chain was far from the mainland with only one road plus ferries connecting the islands. Its population was mostly fisherman and crofters; it's landscape, idyllic, but rural. Again, with no city nearby, Helena wouldn’t sequester them there for any length of time. She put it in the “no” column for now.

Northern Ireland was a definite maybe, though they'd included Belfast in their earlier search. She drew the outline of where Belfast and West Belfast met, as apparently, West Belfast held a population of Irish speakers. But Ireland, the island, was massive, the largest part was an entirely different country. That could cause problems if Helena and Christina had to run. She made a note to check into Irish border crossings and moved on.

Cornwall, a fingerlike peninsula jutting out into the Celtic Sea, had multiple transportation options and several cities. They could hide in its rugged countryside while retaining access to several populated towns, and even jet up to London if they were feeling bold. Cornish as a language was only recently being revived, so there was no specific area in which it was spoken. She put a star next to it anyway, as it seemed the most likely. She sent her findings off to Claudia and kept researching.

But then, at an auction a few weeks later, her theory was put to the test. A fifteenth-century atlas lay open to a map of England, Ireland, and Wales, where she traced a path between her researched locations. As a line formed along the furthest edges of Great Britain, it hit her--if one wanted to send their enemies on a wild goose chase, that was it. The “Merry Christmases” were a red herring, something for Christina to broadcast readily, as she'd read children in witness protection programs often gave away their whereabouts accidentally. And she fell for it hook, line, and sinker. Claudia was not going to be pleased.

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

She's had months to prepare, but here she is, at the last minute, taking time off work to finish several new paintings. Luiza had hooked her up with this group show at a gallery Amanda raved was “blowing up,” but about a month ago she nearly baled. But Luiza insisted she show, saying their work together would lead to stellar reviews. Plus, Luiza needed the press to bolster her artist visa application, so how could Myka refuse?

Well known in her native Sao Paulo, but working hard to make a name for herself in the States, Maria Luiza Izquierdo's work captivated Myka from day one. Her abstract patterns drew her in, with their brightly colored stripes and weaved textiles, bubbling animatedly off the canvas and onto the floor. Her freedom of concept and command of materials was beyond anything she'd ever seen. She definitely was an artist on the rise, and Myka was glad to have made her aquaintance.

And from the looks of Luiza's impressive resume, Myka was an amateur in comparison. Out of the eight other artists at her residency, she’d bonded with Luiza the most. Her ambition was contagious, mind moving a mile a minute, always seeing the good in things. Plus, her smile lit up the room, making it impossible to sulk in her presence. She wouldn't have made it through the first months of Helena’s disappearance without the distraction.

They met up as often as possible when Luiza was in town, her visits kicking Myka out of her increasingly mechanical routine. It was good for her cover, hanging out with Luiza and her friends, plus it lifted her out of the heavy funk she was buried in. Luiza prodded her to show her new work, much like Helena used to do, inviting herself over when Myka failed to do so promptly. There were many things about Luiza that reminded her of Helena, beyond any physical resemblance, but when those thoughts arose, she promptly tamped them down. Loneliness conjured desperate parallels. If Helena were standing next to her, there’d be no comparison.

Having couch surfed though most of her friends, Luiza asked to crash with Myka for this trip. Since Abigail's visit went smoothly, Myka thought, why not? Having company for a few days, especially someone who could help her with her art, seemed like a good idea. But before she had time to prepare, she was called away unexpectedly on a work trip. She left spare keys with the guard at her office and told Luiza to sleep in her room for now. They'd inflate the air bed when she got back.

Upon her return, as she rolls her suitcase down the hall, a mouth-watering scent fills her lungs. It’s not unusual as her neighbor often cooks for relatives, but she’s surprised when the scent intensifies inside her door. The figure in her kitchen, her long, dark hair glowing in the backlight, stops her in her tracks. She’s transported to a different time, a happier one, one she has hopes to reclaim in the future.

“Olá, Myka!" Luiza greets, turning to face her. "How was your flight?”

“H-Hi!” Luiza’s enunciation, choppy and light, is the exact opposite of Helena’s velvety smoothness. Her messy bangs and bright red lipstick further shatter the illusion. “Not terrible. What’s all this?”

“Mrs. Rodrigues, she made us feijoada!”

Myka ditches her bag and steps into the kitchen, where all resemblance to Helena withers as she stands next to the slightly-taller-than-her Luiza. A pot bubbles on the stove as greens stew in a pan. A steaming pot of rice sits on the counter, accompanied by bowls of colorful garnish, more bowls than she remembers owning.

“Mrs. Rodrigues? I've barely spoken to her.”

“She was very much interested in this stranger entering your home.” Luiza points to herself with her thumb. “She is from Brazil, you know. Santos, where my avó lives."

“Avó?”

“Ah...grandmother,” Luiza says, taking a moment to translate the word in her head. She slips two bowls from a cabinet and sets them on the counter. "She feels bad for you.”

“Me? Why?”

“‘Too skinny. Works too much. No namorado.'” Luiza draws out the “o” and circles a wooden serving spoon in the air.

“Namorado. I think I know what that means. So definitely not.” Myka snags an orange slice from a bowl and pops it in her mouth.

Luiza smacks her hand with the spoon.

“Ow!"

“Save for dinner."

“Sorry.” Myka rubs her hand, flashing a mock pout. "It’s nice she’s feeding us. I was dreading takeout.”

“This is much, much better. And I bought cachaça to make batidas.” Luiza holds up a bottle of spirits, grinning ear to ear.

“Nice!” Myka says, smiling back.

“Only the best for my generous host,” Luiza says, adding a small bow. “Now, we eat.” She hands Myka a bowl and sets to making drinks.

At the gallery the next day, they help install each other's work, though Luiza’s pieces are larger and more complex then Myka's. Myka stands back, contemplating placement and aesthetics, while Luiza enlists several other pairs of hands to assist. Myka's in awe of Luiza’s persuasive charm, yet another trait she shares with Helena. But with Luiza, there's no alternate agenda, whereas Helena’s was often circumspect.

“Perfeito!” Luiza exclaims as she steps away from the completed install. “You are in my head, my friend. I should take you everywhere!” She sweeps Myka into a hug that lingers longer than expected, though a hug like this is not unusual. Luiza’s concept of personal space is more forward than her own.

Dinner takes place at a friend of Luiza’s, at a garden party in Silverlake. Myka mills about, catching up with acquaintances, mingling awkwardly with other guests. When everyone takes a seat, Luiza pats the chair next to her, insisting Myka situate herself there. As the meal progresses, Luiza drapes an arm over the back of Myka's chair, an act which Myka finds slightly unsettling. Again, it's not unusual, as Luiza's done it to others, but Helena used to do something similar as a sign of ownership. But as wine is swapped out for brandy, she shifts her focus toward the lively art and commerce banter. Fielding criticism of the trade is liberating, as at work she so often has to hold her tongue.

The next night is the show opening, and the dress Myka picks out isn’t “LA” enough for Luiza. Luiza takes her to a consignment shop where her friend works, where she’s handed a flowery faux-forties dress to try on. Myka twirls to the left and the right, staring at herself in the dressing room mirror, the knee-length skirt bouncing back and forth gaily. It’s a cheerful, tasteful garment, hitting her curves in all the right places. Not that her current wardrobe doesn’t, but it typically flaunts her assets less. It’s a choice she would have made pre-apartment tragedy, but since then, she’s toned down her style. Which suits her job fine, plus with Helena gone, who would she be trying to impress? But it feels freeing somehow, like she’s entered a portal to a simpler time. When she leaves the dressing room, Luiza gasps, and her friend claps with glee. She decides yes, it is perfect, perfect for the show, perfect for the Myka she needs to project.

The scene is giddy as they dress in Myka's apartment. Luiza styles Myka's hair into a voluminous mass of curls cascading over her shoulders. The shade of lipstick she convinces her to wear is so bright her eyes glow green. But it’s Luiza's blouse that steals the show, handmade by her, matching the warp and weft of her work, upstaging her skin-tight leather pants. Myka hasn't had this much fun preparing for an event since grad school with Abigail. The levity is certainly welcome.

There's an afterparty after the after-party, with drinks flowing freely along the way. Myka has no idea how much she drank nor what time they left, but their cab zooms home in no time. Luiza hangs off Myka's arm as they shuffle down her hall. Both giggle as Myka fumbles with her keys. They throw their bags onto the same chair as they stumble in.

“You need a couuuch, minha amiga," Luiza slurs, marching into Myka’s bedroom and plopping down on the edge of the bed. “We drink more! You bring the cachaça. But first I—” She bends towards her shoes, but topples forward, catching herself just barely, palms down, arms extended as if performing involuntary yoga.

Myka hurries in and levers her up. “My shoes, I am sorry,” Luiza says, bending forward again to finish the task. Myka pushes her back, then tries to kneel but wobbles, grabbing Luiza’s knee as she lowers herself down. She slips off Luiza's heel, and as she attends to the second one, Luisa buries her hands in Myka's curls. Luiza angles her face up and leans forward, pressing their lips together.

She’s kissing me. Why is she kissing me? The act is not entirely unpleasant, but not quite right. Is this my fault? Did I lead her on? I didn't, but...did I? She replays the evening in her head, but it’s hazy.

Luiza's hands slip down, cupping the base of Myka's head, deepening the kiss, urging her to rise. Myka breaks it off just then.

“Finalmente,” Luiza says, her voice soft and low, leaning in for another kiss. Myka jerks away, but Luiza's thrown off balance, hands still buried in Myka's curls. Luiza slips off the bed entirely, and they tumble to the ground.

“I can’t do this,” Myka says, pushing Luiza up at the shoulders.

“You have another lover.”

“It's not that."

“Then why?” Luiza lifts herself up so that her arms and legs are now straddling Myka. "Your eyes were on me tonight." She leans in for another kiss, but Myka turns her head.

“This is your ex,” Luiza snaps and sits back on her heels. “You have found her. You’re going to…” She frowns. “Ask for her back."

“I don’t know where she is.” Where did that come from? Myka scoots back, carefully extracting herself from under Luiza's hold. She lifts on her elbows, but makes no sudden move to rise.

“I see it in your eyes. Something has changed.” Luiza falls back, sliding down the edge of the bed, dramatically thrusting her legs out until she’s in sitting position. “You will visit her in London, this woman who destroyed your heart. Tell me where she is, this-this, desgraça, ela que vá a merda!”

Luiza’s Portuguese slurred, but her tone pushed the point across. Myka bends at her knees and inches further back, sitting up while hugging her legs to her chest. Luiza knows everything about her, the entire fake story about Helena as she’s cried in her beer many times over it. But Luiza’s never become this agitated, and she’s not entirely sure why. “H-How did you know I was going to London?” She only found out a few days ago and knows she hadn’t mentioned it.

Luiza drags a hand, raggedly, through her thick, dark locks and looks off to the side. "It was there, on your phone, the text. You left it on the table. It lit up.”

The text, "Sotheby’s London confirmed,” could have honestly meant anything. And she’s been super careful since Morgana’s warning; she hasn't talked about searching for Helena at all, so why would that text set off this tirade?

“It is good that you find her. You must put her away. She is stopping you from better things.” Luiza pushes off the bed and crawls closer to Myka, reaching out and laying a hand on Myka’s knee.

Myka flinches, her head says, "run away," but gut tells her to stay. Something’s not right here. Something big. If Morgana were here, what would she say?

“Put her to rest so we can begin.” Luiza moves ever closer, threading a curl behind Myka’s ear and pressing kiss to her temple.

Myka’s chest tightens as panic sets in. And here, she thought she was being disingenuous, but all along it was Luiza. Luiza’s been grooming her this whole time, tricking her into trusting her, into giving away details about Helena’s situation.

“I’m sorry, but no,” Myka says, releasing her legs and pushing away. Careful now, rejecting her outright will look suspicious after how close you’ve gotten. “I-I’m really flattered, a-and you’re a beautiful, talented woman, but…” Luiza was alone in her apartment. Did she dig through her files? Plant bugs in the walls? Has she been monitoring her calls and texts this whole time? “I, um…there is someone else, if I’m being completely honest.” If only she’d taken up Morgana’s offer, she’d have someone vetted, but now...

“Que?” Luiza says, raising a brow.

“M-My friend Abigail and I, we’ve been talking.” Wait...if Luiza is a spy then she’ll know that isn't technically true, she’ll already know everything about her. “I-I haven’t said anything yet, but I’m planning to when she's in town for Thanksgiving.”

“Abigail. The doctor who lives far away?”

“Only until her post-doc is over. Then she’ll transfer wherever she wants."

“She is your long-time friend. What has changed?”

“I, um…” A catalyst, Myka, come on…think! “When she came to visit for my birthday, she said…she made a comment about maybe dating women. And that stuck with me.”

“She will return your love?”

“I think so.” Or kill me for being an idiot.

Luiza backs towards the bed, looking genuinely shaken. In the moment, she’s simply a bruised suitor, not a potential spy at all.

"I didn’t want to jinx it by saying it out loud.”

“What is jinx?”

“Mess it up before it starts.”

“Que dá azar. Bad luck. Ok.” Luiza holds Myka’s gaze, seemingly gauging the truth in the situation, nodding her head up and down in tiny strokes.

If she doesn’t believe me, what do I do?

Luiza's eyes close as her head falls back against the bed. She’s silent for a few minutes, then takes a deep breath in. “It is time for sleep. And muitos litros de água. Much water.” She hauls herself up, limbs shaking, and walks as steadily as she can towards the door. "Boms sonhos, Myka,” she says, turning back just before exiting.

“Goodnight,” Myka replies, her voice cracking from the lump stuck in her throat. Once Luiza’s gone, she tries to rise, but gravity pulls her down. What have I done? She rolls onto her back and closes her eyes. I'm stupid. So stupid. She’s not my friend. Why can’t I have a friend? A twinge of pain throbs through her brow, and she pinches the bridge of her nose. I have to fix this, fix this now. I need to call Claudia. Or that number Morgana gave me. She rolls over and sits up. But my phone’s in my bag and my bag's on the chair. I can’t go out there, not tonight. She crawls over to her bed and climbs on top, curling up into a ball. Everything’s fucked. Helena, I can’t take much more of this. Where are you? I need you to come back, now.

-TBC-

[peachhoneii]

A Lesson in Dabbling

A/N: It’s gonna be May in less than a week!

The boys learn a lesson about the differences in duck biology. Unfortunately for Donald, it’s a bit more life threatening than he would like.

Louie did not like the communal pool. It was loud, rowdy, and there were too many people drifting in the waves their accumulated body masses created. He could have joined them. The waves were inviting in a way, but he kicked his feet idly in the waters seated on the edge of the pool. He stared ahead behind a pair of sunglasses as children splashed and swam.

Huey doggy paddled using his JW swimming float. Dewey was in the middle of an intense game of Marco Polo with their friends from school.

“Marco!”

“Polo!”

“Gilligan, you’re supposed to keep your eyes closed!”

“Look, last time I kept my eyes closed I ran into a pig’s hairy back.” He shot back at Jordan, whose shell swam circles around them, “And seriously, dude? You know I can’t catch you.”

Louie preferred to stay on land when they visited the communal pool. He counted down the minutes. At three he planned to visit the concession stand to buy a hamburger, soda, and fries. Uncle Donald sent them off with enough money for each, and it was his job to watch the money.

He patted his swim trunks pocket.

Gilligan threw his hands up in the air, giving up the chase. Dewey swam to the edge, gasping for breath, and grinned at him, “You’re staying on shore again?”

“The communal tub is a giant bath tub, and I want no part of it.”

“So, that’s why you’ve got your feet in there,” Jordan shouted for a second before diving again. He watched as his shell disappeared among the people.

“I do that for Uncle Donald.” He curled his bill in disgust, “He wants to make sure we had fun, and this is as much fun as I’m gonna get until we go to the water park.”

The water park was directly across the communal pool, and cleaner.

Dewey shrugged and readied to return to his friends. Turning his head, his face scrunched in confusion, “Gilligan, what are you doing, man?”

Louie shifted his view to where Dewey stared and asked the same question. The upper half of Gilligan’s body was submerged in water with his feet sticking high in the air. It would have been a funny sight to laugh at if he hadn’t remained completely still. His webbed feet didn’t twitch. His knees didn’t knob. There wasn’t a single trace of strain in his form. He went up and down, a consequence of the constant waves, but other than that, he was perfectly motionless.

“Gilligan? You okay, dude?”

Huey paddled towards him, “Gilligan?” He poked his bent knee experimentally, “We need to get him upright.”

“No, you don’t.” Jordan emerged from the waters, “He does this.”

They were about to ask what that meant when Gilligan suddenly jerked and sunk into the waters. He appeared right after, gasping loudly. His coarse, curly green feathers were weighed down with water. His gasp left his lips and was replaced with a sharp giggle, then a cackling laugh. He hooted, swishing water in every direction.

Huey, Dewey, and Louie stared in bewilderment.

“Yeah, man, that hit the spot!” He floated on his back, “I love doing that! You know how hard it is to get that thrill in the bathtub?”

“What was that?”

“We thought you were dead!”

“Can I do it too?”

Louie didn’t fall into the pool but leaned forward, eyes wide. He had never seen anything like that before. Gilligan stared back at them in confusion, glancing worriedly at Jordan who shrugged.

“I don’t know.” He admitted while he pushed his legs back and forth, “I’ve always done it. It feels good, but I can’t do it in the tub like this.”

“In the tub?”

“Yeah, you know when you hold your breath and dive under the water? It’s kind of like that. I feel…light…fuzzy…like I want to keep going until I reach something, but I know whatever it is isn’t there. Something like that.”

The boys glanced at each other and returned to Gilligan.

It was Dewey that broke their circle silence, “Guys, we gotta try that.”

Huey refused. He told them not to. The pitched slither in his tone stopped them from Dewey’s initial attempt, “We should find out more about what he did before trying,” and that pacified Dewey for the time being.

At three, Louie bought their lunch. They played in the pool. They went to the water park across the street, and when they returned home, they bathed and settled into their beds. Louie knew what to expect the next morning and fell asleep easily, glad he didn’t fall in the pool again.

“It’s something other ducks can do.” Huey was perched on the top bunk. He read in a clear, quiet voice that resonated in their small room; the JWG was held firmly in his hands, “Anas is a genus of dabbling ducks where the duck dives into shallow water in search of food.”

“You’re telling me they used to eat like that?”

“Kind of yeah.” Huey closed the book, “It appears they did it to eat aquatic plant life and insects in the water. As ducks evolved, their minds and bodies adapted to the change.”

“So why did Gilligan do it?”

“An instinctive nature designated for his species.” Huey’s expression turned thoughtful, “What is he anyways?”

“His mom is a black duck.” Louie turned over under the covers, “I saw her at the bake sale. Her peach cobbler is to die for.”

“And his dad?”

Dewey tapped his bill, “I think he’s a mallard. I saw him with Gilly after school a few weeks ago.”

“That seems to answer it.” He closed the book with finality, “Now, let’s have breakfast. I think Uncle Donald is making pancakes.”

“But wait,” Dewey grabbed his sleeve, “what about us? Can’t we do it?”

“Sorry, American Pekin Ducks aren’t a part of the Anas genus. We’re from a domesticated line.”

Louie rolled out of bed and rubbed his eyes. He watched Huey go down the hall and enter the kitchen. Dewey stood there with a frown on his face.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, bud.” He patted his back on his way out, “Not everyone can dabble, and besides, it’s a lost art. I doubt even Gilligan can do it perfectly.”

He went to the kitchen to eat pancakes, which Uncle Donald had made for the morning, leaving Dewey behind to ponder over his words in their bedroom.

Louie would see in hindsight that it was thoughtless of him to leave Dewey with that dangling sentence.

Uncle Donald was down for a nap. He was permitted to take naps every now and then when they boys were at school, and this continued when summer vacation was well under way. Huey was writing a report for the JW. Louie was watching Wisney afternoon cartoons in the living room. He was alone, or as alone as he could be.

He knew where Uncle Donald kept the water wear. The life jackets, the floaties, and the swim rings were stored in a cramped, little closet in the hallway. It didn’t take much to wiggle it through and put some air in it. He didn’t hurry outside, choosing to walk casually with the inflated ring under his arm. Louie didn’t stir from the television screen. Huey didn’t look up from his paper.

The deck was freshly washed and sparkled as a result. A seagull hadn’t left a dropping yet, the air was humid, and the water below looked inviting. He went to the railing and stared below. Calm waters. Good. It didn’t make sense for an attempt during stormy weather. He would have tried in the tub, but the tub was too small. Huey had made such a fuss about the pool that he didn’t even get a chance.

He wore his swimming trunks, wiggled the swimming ring around him, and stepped off the houseboat to go around into the water.

It was a cool like warm. He floated comfortably on side of the houseboat. All he needed to do was to turn his body over, and capture the feeling Gilligan had felt on that day.

“Where’s Dewey?”

Louie bit into his sandwich and shrugged, “Isn’t he in our room?”

“He isn’t in our room. I was in my room writing my paper for JWG. It’s about the ramifications of Roman -,”

“I think I saw him with a swimming ring a few minutes ago.”

“Why would he have a swimming ring?”

“I dunno.”

Huey blinked, went outside, and Louie heard a strangled cry that forced him from the comfort of the living room and his half-eaten tomato, ham, sliced cheese, and lettuce sandwich.

Huey stood at the railing staring down at the water. Louie followed suit and snorted, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He dived in, tried to get into position, and sunk. He dived in, tried to get into position, and sunk. It was an uncomfortable, constant loop of Dewey repeating the attempt. He didn’t possess Gilligan’s odd grace. His knees knobbed and feet trembled. His body swayed back and forth in the still waters.

“What are you doing?” Huey shouted, “Get back up here before you drown!”

Dewey splashed up, “I’ma dabble! I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

“No, dude. You like a dying fish on land.”

“You sound like a dying seal. Get back up here.”

He resurfaced, “Not until I dabble!”

Louie and Huey shared an uneasy stare. He would not get out of the water. He absolutely refused, and the chances of his drowning increased dramatically. He splashed, bubbled, floated about without any grace. His arms lost their strength, and he grabbed the swimming ring.

“Wanna come up?”

“No, not really.” He dove again.

“Boys?” Came Uncle Donald’s voice from the house boat, “I swear if Louie’s gotten his head stuck again the -,” he stopped behind them, “what’s going on?”

Huey and Louie froze, spinning around with stiff smiles.

“He’s taking a bath.”

“He is definitely not in the water outside the houseboat!”

Louie paused and turned his head slowly with a glare imprinted in his eyes.

Donald didn’t think twice, “He’s what in the what!?” He pushed them aside and looked down below, “Dewey!”

There wasn’t time to explain what was going on, or why it was happening in the first place. Dewey hadn’t returned to the surface yet, and Donald jumped into the water, diving right beside the swimming ring. They held their breath over the railing, watching and waiting for their uncle and brother to emerged through the waters, but rings of bubbles came to pop instead over the rippling water.

“We should do something,” Huey whispered.

“What are we gonna do!?”

“Call the ambulance.”

He ran back to get the phone when the water started to break. Uncle Donald parted the surrounding water in a great circle, clutching Dewey to his chest. He swam with one arm back to the harbor, pushing Dewey’s body first onto the pavement. Dewey rolled on his side, His little body shook and heaved, and he clutched his side as seawater streamed out of his bill like a river. Uncle Donald gasped, spat water out, and dropped on his knees, crawling to him.

“Dewey, Dewey speak to me!”

“I hear you.” He wheezed, “I hear you loud and clear.”

“Oh, my sweet baby!” Suddenly, he was pulled to his chest. Uncle Donald peppered him with kisses, over his face and head, and with another jerk, he was pulled away from his chest, “What were you thinking!?”

Louie and Huey grimaced from a safe distance.

“Uh...I was…”

“Don’t you know how dangerous that was!? You could’ve drowned!”

Anger born from worry was the worst, but Dewey had no time to think about that.

Dewey grinned sheepishly, “I was trying to dabble.”

“Dabble?” Uncle Donald searched his face for any sign of lies, “You mean dabble, dabble like ducks do?”

“Yeah, I saw Gilligan -,”

“We’re not that kind of duck!” He shook him viciously, “We don’t dabble!”

“Then what kind of ducks are we!?”

“American Pekin!” Uncle Donald jerked him back into his chest, caressing his head as he crooned quietly, “My poor, sweet, dumb child, we’re American Pekin. We don’t dabble.”

“A lot of folks don’t dabble, Dewey.” Louie said from his spot on the houseboat, “Are we in trouble?”

Donald released Dewey, staring at him wearily. His nap was spent and used to its fullest extent, but he appeared as tired as if he had returned from a late night shift, “Go back in side and dry off, Dewey, you too.”

“But am I grounded?”

“I don’t know.” He contemplated aloud, “There’s a lot we haven’t discussed about biology, and I shouldn’t have skimmed that with you boys.”

“So…”

“It was still a ridiculously stupid thing to do.” He fell on his bottom, wiping his forehead, “But it isn’t the worst thing you’ve done, go inside and get ready for dinner. I’ll start it up soon.”

“What about my swimming ring?”

Donald glared.

“Fair enough.” He hurried up the ramp, “Will be dry and clean by time you get inside.” His brothers followed quietly behind him, relieved their brother was safe and even more relieved they weren’t in trouble with him.

Donald watched them disappear into the houseboat. Red, blue, and green, such wonderfully troublesome colors. He scratched the back of his head and rolled forward, “Don’t forget it’s preening night!”

Their collective groans made him grin.

[reallygrossstuff]

DaveKat - Rubber Revenge

So this is the first work I’m publishing here, a ‘sequel’ to Furafinnity user simplythewurst’s story Basket in the Pool. Hope you all enjoy, I’ll be posting more in the future. If you have a request, feel free to send them in!

Dave wandered into the living room, shaking out his leg as he went to try and get rid of the feeling of heaviness. Ever since he recovered from what he’d taken to calling ‘the Target incident’, some four months after it had happened, his body sometimes felt loose and heavy. He couldn’t stop thinking about the time he’d spent as a stiff, helpless pooltoy – how much he’d liked it at the time, but also how little his boyfriend had done to actually help him besides taking him home.

He didn’t really hold it against him or anything – he hadn’t been in a state to mind, and at least he hadn’t been left in the store to be groped and squeezed by random strangers. Still, it was as good an excuse as any for some good-natured revenge, and Dave had been planning some turnabout for a while.

Dave had been staking out the Target on and off for a week or two, checking to see if he could find any more conspicuously abandoned products. When he found the scrap of bright red plastic, the nozzle still attached right in the middle, he knew exactly what he was going to do with it. Folding it up and slipping it into his back pocket, he’d done his best to ignore the slight squeak he could hear, seemingly amplified in his head.

In the living room, with Karkat clueless in front of him and his weapon of choice hidden in his hand, it was time for his master plan to unfold. Inconspicuously, he wandered up to his boyfriend and wrapped his arms around him, hugging him close and rubbing his back.

“What’s got you so cuddly?” Karkat rolled his eyes but hugged back, seeing nothing wrong with this sort of behaviour.

“Just the mood of the day, I guess. Do I need a reason?” His smirk was hidden into Karkat’s shoulder as his hand slowly slid up into the troll’s sweater and smoothed the plastic so the nozzle sat against his tailbone. He rubbed slowly along the edges, worried for a moment until he felt it slowly flatten into his skin.

“I guess not.” He shrugged, not feeling any difference as Dave’s fingers stroked over the plastic. To him, this was just another weird but harmless tick of his long-term boyfriend, and not even the most inconvenient. When they separated, Dave wandering towards the kitchen, he went over to the couch, reaching for the remote to resume watching his movie.

Dave leaned on the kitchen counter, watching Karkat inconspicuously as he waited for any signs that his scheme was working. Meanwhile, under his sweater, the troll’s skin was gaining a reddish sheen as the plastic spread across him. His ‘skin’ tightened slightly, pulling at him uncomfortably and causing him to reach down to scratch at his back.

“What the fuck?” He twisted on the couch, tugging up the back of his sweater to watch the plastic spread. It seemed to go faster as he watched it, rising up his back towards his shoulder-blades and sinking below the waistband of his pants. He stood quickly, pulling his sweater over his head only to see the redness fully circle his middle, rising up both his front and back. “What’s happening to me?”

“Looks like everything’s how it should be, babe.” Dave shrugged, watching with a proud smile. “Struggle while you can, bet it’ll look cute.”

“You did this?!” He turned towards Dave, fury in his eyes, but winced as the movement made his body squeak. The sheen of plastic had reached his shoulders and for now wasn’t going higher, instead spreading down his arms. “Why?”

“Cause it seemed like fun.” He leaned over the counter a little more, watching eagerly.

“You fucker! This isn’t funny, it’s-.” *POP*

Karkat jumped, twisting and turning to find the source of the loud noise and eventually looking behind himself, to where the nozzle on his back had opened itself up and began to suck in air. As he watched, his middle began to round out with air, the plastic pulling tighter as it did.

The next noise to get his attention was the ripping of stitches as his pants began to stretch, soon tearing entirely down both sides. While his legs ballooned and his toes fused together, the space between them disappeared until he was wobbling precariously on one large appendage, a slight dip in the middle all that was left to show where the split used to be. As he continued to grow, his knees bent against his will, lowering him towards the ground as he swore and protested, trying to keep himself upright with just his arms.

When Karkat was kneeling on the ground, only staying upright because of his now fully plastic arms, Dave got up and walked to him, stopping right in front of him. “Looking good, Kat. How’s it feel?”

“Like my entire body is squeezing me to death and I can’t feel anything below my shoulders.” Karkat growled at him, tilting his head up to try and escape the plastic slowly creeping up his neck. “You’d better turn me back, or I’ll – or – or aaahhh…”

Karkat’s griping was interrupted as Dave’s hand found its way to his crotch, stroking and squeaking against the rounded bump that used to be his bulge. He smirked as Karkat’s attention turned fully to the sensation, unable to hold back his moans as Dave squeezed down on it.

“Something to say, babe?” Dave tilted his head, one hand teasing the troll while the other adjusted his erection in his jeans. The sight and sound of Karkat turning to plastic was just as arousing, if not more so, than it had been to transform himself. Karkat, too busy moaning and trying to squirm, didn’t respond.

Just then, another noise wracked the troll with fear, as the pervasive hissing inhalation of the nozzle wheezed louder. He tried to turn his head and see, but his neck had stiffened in place so that he was forced to keep looking forwards. Regardless, he felt it when his lower half grew tighter, and Dave’s hand moving to feel him up confirmed what was happening.

While the rest of Karkat’s body had thickened with air, his backside was inflating even further. His cheeks bulged outwards, pulling the plastic even tighter and creaking with the pressure. In a matter of moments his flat ass had turned into two comical balloons, wobbling slightly under Dave’s groping hands and disrupting his centre of gravity. At the same time, his hands began to move of their own accord- lifting off the ground and moving to press against his chest, palms-out, before fusing into place there. No longer able to support himself, it was only a few moments before he was teetering in place, cursing as his body fell and bounced slightly against the ground.

Dave chuckled, giving Karkat’s ass a slap and listening to the hollow sound it made. “Looking good there, Vant-ass. Looks like you’re nearly done.”

Karkat opened his mouth to protest again, but was quickly silenced as the plastic spread to cover his face. His eyes and mouth contorted against his will, sealing his expression into one of mindless joy. His lips were pulled wide into a cheesy grin, puffing out slightly and turning a deep black, while his eyes widened and rounded into two yellow circles, forced to stare straight ahead even as Dave kept groping him.

While internally he was still upset at Dave for doing this, none of that frustration was conveyed on Karkat’s new cartoonish face, and Dave was free to lift the toy effortlessly by one hip and carry him into their bedroom. “We had tons of fun together, right? Betcha we can have some more before you turn back… whenever that is.”

Karkat could hear the smugness in Dave’s voice, and he knew there’d be a shit-eating grin plastered on his face if he could see. When he was put back down on the bed, his pose made it so that his hips were arched out, showing off his round backside while keeping his gaze fixed helplessly forward. While he would be blushing if he could, his squeaky red skin did a good enough job for him, sliding from a bland maroon at his upper half into his signature candy red for his crotch, ass and legs. The only splashes of colour left were his puffy black lips, his round yellow eyes, and his tricoloured horns. As Dave ogled him, he couldn’t resist running his hands along that red plastic, squeaking it loudly and consistently.

As that noise filled Karkat’s head, he found it harder and harder to concentrate. He wanted to be angry at Dave for tricking him, but the more the human dragged his hands over his round, shiny cheeks, the more it felt as though his thoughts were being drowned out by the incessant squeaking.

The squeaking only got louder when Dave pushed forwards, grinding his clothed erection against Karkat’s backside. The denim rubbed teasingly between his cheeks, drawing out a squeak so long and so loud that he lost his train of thought entirely.

He was angry, right? But what about? Everything felt so good, so overwhelming, Dave forcing more sounds out of his big, squeaky body. With every squeak his hesitation shrank and withered, until all he could think about was how good it felt to be groped and grinded on. Dave was lighting up his nerves with the contact, and when he pulled away for a moment only to come back without those pesky jeans, Karkat’s mind filled with pleasure.

“Feels good, right, babe?” Dave asked, ignoring his boyfriend’s inability to respond. It did feel good, the pleasure of it driving over the ex-troll in waves as Dave used him as he pleased. “I knew you’d like it.”

As Dave kept going, getting closer and closer to the edge, Karkat’s concerns faded more and more. By the time the human finished, spilling carelessly over Karkat’s back, the only thought in his head was when Dave would use him next.

[idfwcamren]

summertime

The students were getting restless. It was the middle of May and nearly finals time and the summer holidays were so close around the corner that Penelope could literally taste the freedom. It tasted like popsicles, vodka lemonades, and Hope's raspberry chapstick. And Penelope needed all three of those things. Right now. With some heavy lobbying to Josie and Kaleb (she carried her reputation as a shrewd negotiator since the honor council elections with a badge (or rather cape) of honor), she was able to persuade the council to throw a pool party. If she was being honest, she just really wanted to see Hope in a bathing suit, so her motives were not altogether altruistic or meant to foster inclusion, but a witch could certainly try. And who could blame her, really? Hope had a rocking body and legs for days and the world deserves to see them in all of their glory. Not to mention the fact that they had a pool at their disposal. A giant pool, complete with waterfall and jacuzzi in their own backyard and the ease with which the party could move from the pool to the lake and the Old Mill at night made the location the perfect spot for a little pre-summer kickback. It also helped that Alaric was away doing satan-knows-what, leaving Dorian in charge, which usually meant that he was holed up in the library on the phone to Alaric to forestall an impending magical crisis. Even Lizzie was on board with the idea, which was surprising to no one because the blonde did love a good party, but surprising to all was that it had been Penelope’s idea that she had latched onto. Maybe they all needed to let off some steam before diving into their books. The party supplies had been purchased - inflatable pool toys, beach balls, volleyball nets, water guns, and the liquor was already flowing as students lounged around the edge of the pool. Red party cups littered the ground and tabletops. The wolves were playing chicken in the deep end, howling every so often as they splashed everyone in their vicinity. The witches were all tanning in the gardens, the smell of their enchanted weed swirling around the party with notes of chai and spices. The vamps were tossing around frisbees and beach balls, sipping on bloody marys that Penelope guessed probably weren’t just made with rabbit's blood. Hope was sitting towards the middle of the pool, legs dangling in the water, a red bikini fitting on her frame very nicely. Her arms were behind her and a pair of sunglasses adorned her face as she chatted with Landon and MG. Penelope watches her by the doorway to the school’s main building, a black string bikini on her body, her arms crossed as she surveys her kingdom, her dark sunglasses pulled low on her nose to blatantly stare at her girlfriend. God, if Hope could only see her the way that Penelope saw her. Words really didn’t do her justice. Penelope could feel her fingers tingling at the need to be close to Hope. She had never been one to be tactile with partners, had always been the one to be wanted, had never been the one to be wanting, but there was just something about being able to reach out and touch Hope whenever she wanted that she was deeply craving right now. There was something about the tiny redhead that pulled Penelope into her orbit and she wanted to drown in the feeling. It was like the moment you know you are in freefall, that realization that you could get hurt, that this could all end in heartbreak, but she wasn’t even scared of the landing. The party was in full swing around her - laughter, shouts, happiness, and mirth, and Penelope would give it all to just press pause and hold this moment with Hope. She was laughing at something Landon was saying from the pool as she floated on a pool toy in the shape of a slice of watermelon, MG next to him on a slice of pizza. Landon and MG grin at each other from the pool as Penelope walks towards them, two towels under an arm and a cup of something in her right hand. Penelope hears a soft "oh" from Hope as she approaches, her eyes hidden behind her sunglasses, but her head roving up and down Penelope’s body. Well, a reaction like that was certainly worth a little social time with the other species. "Stop drooling," Landon laughs at Hope completely losing her train of thought as Penelope joins them. "I have no idea what you're talking about." “You like what you see, Mikaelson?” Grinning with an eyebrow raised, Penelope drops to Hope's side with a kiss to her girlfriend’s cheek before Hope grabs the cup from her with a smile, but not before she whispers - “You know I do. You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” “Oh, I am just getting started, babe,” Penelope grabs the cup back from Hopewith a smirk, shoving her girlfriend a bit too playfully, launching Hope into the pool with a surprised gasp. With a smile, Penelope sets the cup down next to her, gloating as she watched Hope move back towards the surface. “P, you never did tell us why you wanted to throw a party,” MG tosses her way, spinning around to face the group as his pizza hits Lizzie’s watermelon with the splash from Hope. Hope has yet to resurface and Penelope knew that she wouldn’t hear the end of this from her girlfriend. But if there was one thing that she had learned after a few months with Hope, it was that the tribrid didn’t get mad, but she certainly got even. “Can’t a girl just throw a party without everyone asking questions? We needed this, MG. I needed - ahh!” Penelope’s legs are pulled out from under her as she slides into the water. She had to hand it to Hope- an incantation underwater was pretty damn sexy. And not the easiest feat. Hope bursts to the surface at the same time as Penelope does and Penelope has the audacity to sport a surprised look on her face while Hope glares at her, but as in all fights with the raven-haired witch, the anger is short-lived and Hope crumbles under Penelope’s gaze. “You looked a bit warm, baby,” Penelope shrugged, splashing water towards Hope with a laugh. “Just a public service, that’s all. Can’t have Alaric coming back and finding you in the hospital with heatstroke.” “You’re lucky you’re cute, Park,” Hope levels back, returning Penelope’s splash with a bigger one as she floats on her back next to her girlfriend and friends. The party passes in a haze of sunlight and alcohol. Penelope doesn’t miss the constant looks Lizzie keeps tossing Ali's way. The witch was floating next to Landon in the pool, her attention on him, but Lizzie couldn’t seem to take her eyes off of her. The witch filed that information away for later as she turned to find Hope. xxx The sun set without much fanfare, and everyone had run off to the Old Mill and the pair were alone, finally. The fairy lights hung around the edge of the pool were casting dark shadows over the illuminated water, the backyard a dull orange glow, but Penelope could find Hope in seconds. It was more of a feeling with Hope, her magic reaching out and caressing the edges of Hope's skin. No amount of preparation and alcohol could ready her for the moment that her eyes found Hope's , where the brunette was seated on a lounge. Penelope would never tire of those eyes on her and the smile that crept up Hope's lips was worth the hours she had waited to get her alone. Time felt like a flat circle as she approached the tribrid, her heart beating so loudly in her ears that she knew that Hope would smell the trepidation, the longing, the love pouring out of her before she could even say a word. "Was this all a ploy to get me alone, Miss Park?" Hope asks with an eyebrow raised. “In a pool,” she pauses as she glances around “...all to ourselves maybe?” Hope pulls Penelope closer to her, the witch laying next to her on the lounge with their fingers intertwined. Penelope’s gaze is at the sky as she answers, a bark of laughter escaping her throat. Its hours past sundown and they are still in their bikinis. The hot Virginia day lingering into a warm Virginia night. “You know me well enough to not ask stupid questions like that.” She turns her head to the side, the moonlight dancing in Hope's eyes as she leans in for a kiss. Oh, Penelope was a lost cause the moment she had set her eyes on the tribrid. "Come for a swim with me," Penelope breathes, her hand curling upwards to trace her fingers down Hope's cheek. “Okay,” Hopenods, her voice hoarse because she had absolutely no chill when it came to Penelope. Her confidence, age, her intelligence, her looks, her past - everything screamed fucking for fun and friends with benefits that would only end with mangled hearts, but Hope knew that the girl next to her understood her in ways that she did not understand herself. They dive into the pool together, steam drifting upwards into the summer air as they resurface by the edge in the shallow end. Hope winds her arms around Penelope’s neck as she grabs onto the concrete in front of her, Penelope pinned between her and the wall. Penelope’s arms circle Hope underwater, hands moving up and down her hips as fingers play with the ties of Hope's bikini bottom. “You were right before. This was all for you.” Hope smiles but says nothing, her hands on the sides of Penelope’s face as she pulls them forward, lips crashing together because words weren’t important right now. What was important was her girlfriend, clad in nothing but a bikini and everyone else off in the woods as they shared this moment. Penelope bites at Hope's lip, sucking on it, and soothing it with a gentle kiss before dragging her lips down Hope's neck, biting and then kissing away the pain. Hope tilts her neck back, her breath ragged as her hips cant forward. Penelope’s hands move underwater to shove Hope's bikini bottom out of the way and even with the water coursing around them, she could feel how wet Hope was. A finger slides up and down Hope's clit, followed by the heel of Penelope’s palm before she moves her hand away. “Are you trying to get us caught?” Hope breathes into Penelope’s mouth, her voice breathless and the want in the words is palpable. She’s trying to protest, to add logic to the mix of feelings, but her body is betraying her. She is sinfully soaking and Penelope wants nothing more than to dive into her. “There’s no one around, babe. Just you and me and this gorgeous night,” Penelope’s words are slow, measured, her finger still running through Hope's folds in a way that has the Hope closing her eyes. “Do you want me to stop?” Eyes blown, Penelope asks for consent but Hope exhales out the word no with a scoff. Penelope kisses her again and Hope pours herself into it, demanding to be taken with her lips. The witch spins them, positioning Hope with her back against the concrete for more leverage. She unties the bottoms at Hope's hips, her mouth finding Hope's once more as she grips one hip and drives two fingers in, breathing in the moan that bursts out of Hope's mouth as she rides into the friction. Hope's lips wrap around four-letter words and the tribrid only ever cursed when Penelope was inside of her. The sound was music to Penelope’s ears. Their bodies are pressed firmly against each other, but it’s not close enough, and Hope wants more. Her arms again catch at Penelope’s neck, scratching down her back with feeling. Penelope hears Hope’s breathing change, whispers of fuck falling from her lips like a spell, and perhaps she is the one bewitched and not the other way around. Her free hand finds its way to Hope’s breast and Penelope receives a nip at her lip for her actions, knowing the spot was one of Hope’s favorites. The sound around them dissolves into background noise and the universe is reduced to them, in this moment. Penelope starts slowly, pushing in and out and the feeling is positively sinful to stretch Hope so wide open, but the taller brunette jumps to wrap her legs around Penelope's waist, allowing Penelope to push in deeper. She builds her speed, in and out, and can feel and hear Hope getting closer, has always been able to know the moment when Hope will come undone. They’re kissing again as Hope comes and she’s hanging onto Penelope, trembling and Penelope can feel the moment when Hope is tipped over the edge. Can taste the moan in the kiss, inhaling deeply. Twin hearts racing against each other and Penelope’s eyes open to Hope's chest heaving, her legs shaking as she stands. Hope's lips are kiss-swollen, but a lazy smile is dancing upon them. This was far from being over. Hope' eyes are black, pupils blown and Penelope swims away from her towards the center of the pool, beckoning Hope forward with a flick of her finger.

[funnynewsheadlines]

These 27 Real Estate Pics Are So Terrible It’s Hard To Believe That Real Estate Agents Are Expecting To Sell Them

Selling a property is a big deal. I’d be running errands with a camera crew trying to take immaculate snaps, catching the tiniest dust, staging the best possible facade—something my flat could never be. But you gotta let the pros do their job.

And some real estate agents couldn’t care less. Because when it comes to attracting potential buyers, the advertised pictures hit the bottom of the barrel. And we’re talking standards. From nasty décor and filthy interiors to prison-like rooms and "holy cow, what's that thing," these property photos are quality nightmare material. Thanks to the blog called Terrible Real Estate Agent Photos, which celebrates “low standards and a lack of attention to detail,” we now know how not to sell a property. And it’s fairly easy: whatever you do, just don’t post that goddamn pic. After you’re done, check out our previous post with terrible real estate photos here.

More info: Instagram | Twitter | Facebook | terriblerealestateagentphotos.com

#1 The Lord Has Sent Us A Sign, In The Form Of 2 Hideous Rugs And A Huge Crystal Bowling Pin

Image credits: terriblerealestateagentphotos

#2 The Music Drowns Out The Washing Machine Drowns Out The Toilet Helps You Forget About The Mirrors

Image credits: terriblerealestateagentphotos

#3 We Don’t Know What He Does In There. He Says He’ll Tell Us Once He’s Caught Something

Image credits: terriblerealestateagentphotos

#4 When It Came To Selling Their House, Slipknot’s Decision To Manage Their Own Viewings Was Ill-Advised And Unsuccessful

Image credits: terriblerealestateagentphotos

#5 The Plastic Sheeting Is For The Vomit Caused By The Migraine Caused By Everything Else

Image credits: terriblerealestateagentphotos

#6 Like A Circle In A Spiral, Like A Wheel Within A Wheel. Like A Toilet In A Shower, In A Kitchen, With Hanging Space For Clothes, And A Portable Radiator

Image credits: terriblerealestateagentphotos

#7 Anyone Thinking Of Trying Rachmaninov’s 2nd, Forget It. I’m Not In The Mood

Image credits: terriblerealestateagentphotos

#8 4 Bedrooms, 2 Bathrooms, And Extensive Opportunities For Open Plan Off-Roading

Image credits: terriblerealestateagentphotos

#9 I Love Excercise. I Could Lay In Bed And Watch It All Day

Image credits: terriblerealestateagentphotos

#10 Off-Street Parking

Image credits: terriblerealestateagentphotos

#11 Property Comes Complete With A Frisky Middle-Aged Woman And Half A Bottle Of Chardonnay

Image credits: terriblerealestateagentphotos

#12 I’ll Make The Bed As Soon As I Can Find It

Image credits: terriblerealestateagentphotos

#13 “As Gregor Samsa Awoke One Morning From Uneasy Dreams He Found Himself Transformed Into A Black Gym Ball”

Image credits: terriblerealestateagentphotos

#14 Will Require Some Modernisation, Once You’ve Burned It To The Ground

Image credits: terriblerealestateagentphotos

#15 If You Want To Look Around We Recommend Sharing Your Proposed Route, In Case We Need To Contact Mountain Rescue

Image credits: terriblerealestateagentphotos

#16 “Honey, I Found The Perfect Place For Our Wall-Mounted Naked Limbless Gender-Neutral Toddler Dolls”

Image credits: terriblerealestateagentphotos

#17 I’m Not Suggesting It’s Inauthentic, But Did Henry Viii Definitely Have A Weights Bench?

Image credits: terriblerealestateagentphotos

#18 That Time When Open Plan Living Broke Through The Acceptability Threshold

Image credits: terriblerealestateagentphotos

#19 Large, Flat Side Yard Is Perfect For Your Obese Inflatable Children

Image credits: terriblerealestateagentphotos

#20 Bob Would Smile To Himself Whenever He Thought Of The Money He’d Saved By Not Installing Air-Con

Image credits: terriblerealestateagentphotos

#21 The Isolationist Equivalent Of A Welcome Mat

Image credits: terriblerealestateagentphotos

#22 You Can Have Storage Or You Can Have A Bathroom. You Can’t Have Both

Image credits: terriblerealestateagentphotos

#23 As He Listened To Them Driving Away, George Realised It Wasn’t A Real Game Of Hide And Seek

Image credits: terriblerealestateagentphotos

#24 How Thoughtful Of The Seller To Leave Us A Self-Portrait Of Her Breast-Feeding Her Dog

Image credits: terriblerealestateagentphotos

#25 This Bath Was Brought To You By The Letter H And The Realisation That Interior Design Just Changed Forever

Image credits: terriblerealestateagentphotos

#26 The Sun Will Set, And The Demons Of The Night Will Rise. Until Then, The Vaccuum Cleaner Sleeps A Dreamless Sleep

Image credits: terriblerealestateagentphotos

#27 I Mean It Marv, If You Walk Out That Door We’re Finished

Image credits: terriblerealestateagentphotos

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[chat-noir-imagines]

re/concilation. | Chat Noir/Adrien Agreste x Reader

Your chin found the palm of your hand - your cheeks inflating as you released another heavy sigh. Disappointment; fear, and anger built within you--the utmost strife twisting your stomach. Subsequent to your audible sigh; you separated your palm from your chin - waving it lazily. "Whatever--save your excuses and go already." Ultimate remorse and sadness reflected in Adrien's gaze - his mouth twitching awkwardly to keep from frowning.

"I'm really sorry about this. I'll try to be back as soon as possible." He pressed his lips to your cheek softly; causing you to fight back the urge to jerk away and act hostile. None of this was his fault--you hoped. You knew deep down that even he had secrets to hide, and that thought is the only reason you kept your faith in him so long.

"See you later then, Adrien."

However; you were beginning to have second thoughts regarding his 'disappearances'. Some times - you would catch him talking to a classmate with big, round blue eyes. You were an average girl, and Adrien was a cute popular guy -- the possibility of him seeing another girl crossed your mind many times.

You shook your head lightly; raising your hand to wave the waiter over. At that exact moment he made his appearance - you were standing from your seat at the set table. "I'm taking my leave now."

"If that's what you wish; but, won't your boyfriend be back soon?"

"Nope." Came your immediate reply - accompanied with a stern shake of the head. "I'd rather save myself the time. Oh, and as for the bill - you can put it on the Agreste's tab."

"Will do. Thank you for coming and have a safe trip."

"You don't mind if I head off now right?"

The female adorned in red completed with black dots turned to look at him - a soft grin decorating her face. "Well look at you--found something more important than the city of Paris huh?"

His face flushed as he scratched the back of his neck with both hands - his mouth opening and closing in an effort to form words. As the former superhero let out a hearty laugh at his flustered appearance - he looked down, hoping to hide his face behind raised arms.

"Well, you aren't denying it." Her smile dropped as she glanced down at the dotted spray bottle in her hand--the item she'd gained from Lucky Charm in battle. "This is probably a bad time to bring this up--but I..know who you are in real life..?"

The blonde looked her in the eye once more - anxiety making his stomach churn. "Is it that obvious?"

"No--but what my point is; I've approached you quite a lot in my regular form..hoping you'd get the message. Now, I've realized that I can't hope for that anymore - because you have someone you already love." She fiddled with the bottle in her hands as her gaze averted from his. "Even so, our time together is limited just like yours with her is. So don't make her wait."

"You're the one who stopped me.." He muttered, gazing up to the night sky. Immediately annoyed - the female superhero pointed the spray bottle at him; his hands flailing at the air above him instantaneously. "Don't point that at me!"

With a soft sigh, her arm dropped to her side - her other hand coming up to place itself on her forehead. She forced a smile - shaking her head slightly. "You're unbelievable."

The boy who stood opposite of her took notice of this straightaway - a small frown stretching his lips whilst he lowered his arms. "A few weeks ago - I would've been ecstatic to hear that, because believe it or not--I had a crush on you. But now; I can't even imagine what my life would be like without (Y/N).."

Her eyes only continued to water as he took her hand in his - moving it away from her forehead to place a light kiss there.

"I'm sorry." He then muttered, taking his leave.

"..You're not."

The superhero donned in black stopped on a roof-top just southwest of your house - blending into the shadows of the night. Though he stood a few moments away - he could tell that you had already changed into your pajamas and were getting ready for bed.  

Once again - the boy was coming to visit you late at night; in his superhero form as well. He stopped to look down at his hand - taking note of how much time he had left before continuing to progress to the house he recognized as yours.

Careful to not step on the small pots scattered across the balcony floor - he stepped around them quietly until he reached the white symmetric doors.

You stood just on the other side - your hands brushing upwards through your hair as you concentrated on the mirror in front of you. However; when he tapped lightly on the door made mostly out of glass--you jumped, letting your hair fall back into it's original style.

"Chat Noir? What are you doing here this late?" You questioned, opening both doors to step out onto the balcony.

"Ah, it's not that late. And isn't it obvious?" Though directed at you--his question was rhetoric - a small smile appearing on his face as he tapped your nose. "I came to see you."

You hummed lightly, blinking in slight surprise to his sudden affectionate nature. "Are you sure you aren't just lonely?"

The taller male deadpanned; a mixture of annoyance and disappointment reflecting in his eyes--similarly to Adrien's, you noticed. His mouth opened to say something in response - but you cut him off.

"I am." You sighed through your nose. "My boyfriend had to ditch again today - and instead of embarrassing myself again like the first time--I left right after him."

The blonde's heart slightly clenches upon hearing this - a few negative thoughts swarming in his mind. "Well, if I were you - I would've ordered a bunch of food and stuff to make the bill higher as revenge."

A few giggles left your form before he even finished speaking; the small giggles only becoming more audible as he did. "That's not really a bad idea." You then paused - replaying his words over in your head. "Uhm..Chat Noir, you're not stalking me are you?"

The boy in question tensed and his face went red; fearing he said the wrong thing. "What do you mean?"

"How did you know I went to a place where I could 'order food'?"

"Well excuse me dear princess. As I don't know know much about dates. All you do is go to a restaurant and eat right?"

You rolled your eyes - leaning your elbow onto the railing to place your chin in your palm. "There are other types of dates you know."

"Oh?" He lifted an eyebrow. "Enlighten me."

"Dates are basically when you and another go out to some place with a happy heart--enjoying both their presence and the activities. You can go almost anywhere and make it a date; movie date, Waterpark date, fair date--as long as you enjoy it I guess."

At the lift of one corner of his lips and the wiggling of his eyebrows - you basically knew what he was going through his head. "Is this a date then?"

"No way dude, we're still at my home."

You were both then enveloped in silence - content with the soft noises the late night had to offer. The night was very peaceful - even with the faint engine noises that were just a few miles away. Chat Noir had his eyes closed; completely immersing himself into the sounds of the night.

You on the other hand, began to drown in negative thoughts; the silence giving you the pleasure of hearing such things loud and clear. After taking a shaky breath - you spoke up again.

"Chat Noir, can I tell you something?"

"Yeah, sure." He hummed, his eyes remaining closed.

"I sorta wish I could date you--because you seem to be around more. The thing is..I've been having all sorts of negative thoughts when it comes to my boyfriend's disappearances..and I'm starting to have thoughts about separating from him."

His harlequin colored eyes shot open; a look of distress showing on his entire face. The thought of you breaking up with him was unbearable - why couldn't he visit you more ad himself than Chat Noir? He couldn't hate himself anymore than he did in this exact moment; the fact that he couldn't kiss you still - is slowly driving him insane.

"It's not that I don't love him or anything; it's just..whatever he runs out there to is clearly more important than I am." You quickly blinked thrice before turning your head away all together. "And lately..I've even wondered if he were seeing other girls - maybe I'm just too boring or something for him. Honestly I just--"

"Stop talking."

When turning to look at him as you did just moments before; a lone tear escaped your left eye - wetting your cheek as it slides down. He steps closer - his stern gaze meeting yours when he wipes the tear away.

"Why would you ever think about separating from him? That's only gonna cause more problems than you have right now. Think about how he feels--he will be heartbroken. I'm sure that he loves you more than all of Paris combined - and you're just gonna throw it all away like that?"

Tears are now falling from your eyes quickly; your lip quivering as you try desperately to wipe them away. "I don't mean--I just..I-I can't.." You choke back tears - struggling to form a reasonable sentence.

"Great..I've made two girls cry in one night.."

"W-What?" You inquired - sniffing.

"Nevermind." He imprisoned you against his chest, rubbing small circles in your back - tightening the hug. "It's just..he returned your feelings right? Even with all that he has to deal with - he wants to be with you, cherish you, and most importantly--love you. (Y/N), look at me."

You did as told - blinking away more tears to look up at him clearly.

"What if he goes out to save all of Paris everyday?" Chat Noir's forehead rested on yours; noses pressed together and lips lightly grazing over each other as he spoke. "What if he would give all of that up just for you?"

Pink tinted your cheeks - his words sticking to repeat inside your head, causing your heart rate to increase excessively. "And what if...that's not the case?"

You watched as he closed his eyes, processing your words carefully. A barely audible beeping was then heard from his hand that rested on the small of your back - catching his full attention.

"So..mind describing this boyfriend of yours?"

"Huh?"

"I..think I saw someone heading this way a little while back--he had blonde hair."

You then put distance between the both of your faces, disbelief written on your features. "What? That's impossible - he'd be at home at this hour, why--"

Chat Noir's gloved finger pressed against your lips. "Shh, Listen."

Listening closely to the unknown as you possibly could--you blinked up at the taller hero. After a few moments of silence; the familiar tune of your doorbell sounded, alerting you of the guest that stood at the door.

"Oh, look at that--he's here already." He muttered, pulling away from the embrace. He then leapt onto the railing - offering a soft smile before jumping off the balcony entirely.

"I'll get it!" Deciding not to waste anymore time than you already did; you then sprinted downstairs - coming to an abrupt halt upon reaching the door. You encased the cool brass doorknob between your fingers, but paused.

The prior conversation you held with Chat Noir made you reflect on the past few days - and how you'd acted so cold towards the one that was actually trying. Would he be angry--why was he even here?

You shook these thoughts away, instead continuing to unlock the door. Slowly but surely; you started to pull on the doorknob.

The door was open part-way when you began to speak. "Uhm, Adrien I--"

The boy in question interrupts your sentence as he forces the door open fully - his hands finding your face. His grip tightened ever so slightly; his lips colliding with yours quickly--and almost painfully. He deepened the kiss with the tilt of his head - your eyes squeezing shut, and mouth opening slightly as you returned the forceful kiss.

Finally; he pulled away - the sight of the thin string of saliva connected to your mouths causing your face to flush.

My first kiss..

Though flustered - you took notice of Adrien's messy hair; distressed gaze, and shortage of breath. "A-Are you ok? Did you run here?"

Adrien hung his head - taking deep breaths. "I nearly broke my neck trying to get here."

You deadpanned - placing your hands over his that rested on your cheeks. "Then--"

"Don't worry about that." He pulls you into another stern kiss."I'm gonna spend the night here to apologize for all those times I had to cancel important dates." He pushed your hands away forcefully; lifting your face to gaze into your eyes.

"I'm gonna love you all night long."

You were sure that your entire body was then flushed--because you felt completely warm all over. "Adrien! That sounds so wrong!"

He quirks an eyebrow; tilting his head as he replayed his previous words in his head. Shrugging soon after, he began to litter your cheeks in kisses. "I promise to try and do better. I promise." He repeated - a kiss for every word he spoke.

"You don't have to.." You muttered quietly, not wanting to interrupt him.

"No matter what happens.." Adrien started - pulling you into an embrace. "I will always love you, (Y/N)."

I'M SORRY

ANGST WAS NEEDED - SO ANGST YOU WILL GET

I HAD TO--ANGST IS JUST IN MY GENES OR SOMETHIN’

AND YEAS MARINETTE INTENDED TO BREAK YOUR RELATIONSHIP

CUE TEARS AND ANGSTY APOLOGIZING SCENE

P.S. I WAS CRYING TOO WHILE WRITING THAT CONFESSION SCENE

(insert Lenny face here)

So~sis~~ still want me to do that request? (tell me later tho, I’m still writing)

I've killed two birds with one stone! Firstly; this request was special--and I finished it quite quickly!! Now onto the other requests!

Secondly; my sister said that she wanted to make my oneshots more "realistic" and by that she said "[They must be] sexy" and "have your 'psychological' impacts too!"

Say no more my dear child. Muahaha~

(Darn gif ain't the right size)

Imagine by; @animerocks00

Oneshot by; @animerocks00

Requested by; Anonymous ( )

Proofread and Refurbished by; No one yet ;_;