#this was sooooo fun to draw even though it killed my hand

[clovariia]

siblings dance party !!!! 🎵🎶🎵🎶

(the definitions of "siblings" and "dancing" are both flexible...)

[voidfishing]

what was your favorite part of stolen century & what was your favorite funny bit they did & if the seven birds were actual birds what birds do you think they would be?

OKAY LOVE THIS ASK BC I AM SUPER INTO ORNITHOLOGY AND THINK ABOUT THE SEVEN BIRDS CONSTANTLY… literally I have a draft abt what birds they would be saved on my phone

but okay first I honestly do think my favorite part in the stolen century is the best day ever. I’m biased bc I love Taako & Lup so much but it’s just so incredibly sweet the way he plans an entire day of things he knows Lup will love… but also because it’s one of the few times we really see Taako scared. him being terrified when Lup tells him that she’s going to become a lich…. it’s this moment of vulnerability that no one but the audience gets so see. the way Taako doesn’t express how worried he is to ensure that he’s not preventing Lup from doing what she believes is the right thing to do even though he’s scared for her…. combined with “because you are my heart”….. oh that just takes me out

my fav funny bit is a really really hard choice bc so many bits just kill me BUT. the one scene that always gets me is during the eleventh hour when Taako is just shoveling diamonds into his bag and Magnus yells from across the room “Taako!! what the fuck!!!” the delivery of that line is so good

OKAY THEN.. ALRIGHT MY SEVEN BIRD HEADCANONS.

Magnus is a Golden Eagle. hands down. I think it’s usually a safe bet to portray a fighter character as a bird of prey, but also I just feel like it fits him because they’re such dynamic birds and he is proficient in like everything. also they usually mate long-term or for life and like…. Magnus’ devotion to Julia and the fact he never even considered being with someone else certainly fits with that.

Merle is a gray morph Eastern Screech Owl. of course because he chose an owl as his animal during petals to the metal, but also because it feels really fitting for him to be this small bird of prey. Because they’re so little and nocturnal, they tend to not be sighted often, but they’re really strong and fierce little birds despite their stature. I feel like that can relate to Merle being kind of treated like he’s rarely a help, even though he ends up being the one to save the others decently often.

Taako & Lup are Resplendent Quetzals. I‘ve definitely seen other people make this take I promise I know I’m not the first bc of the obvious use of “resplendent” but speaking as a bird enthusiast, Taako and Lup are sooooo Trogoniformes to me. the twins are supposed to be incredibly beautiful in a stand-out way, so making them incredibly flashy tropical birds that most people never get to see in person seems fitting to me. PLUS I think it’s very fun when people draw Taako with long hair and Lup with short hair, and that little detail translates well with the dimorphism in quetzal tail length.

Barry is a Blue-winged Teal to me. partially because I think it’s funny to make the guy who couldn’t swim a duck but also I do feel like it fits him to be a species that doesn’t stand out much - he’s kind of just a guy. like he’s this incredibly powerful magic user and a lich and insanely intelligent, but he also is just a normal guy <3 so him being a decently common migratory duck is fitting, I think. plus the large blue patch on the wings of the males…. bluejeanscore

Davenport has got to be a Barn Swallow. given his role as IPRE captain and his life sailing in imbalance, it’s really fitting for him to be a swallow, as sailors historically got tattoos of them to represent the distance they’d traveled and act as a sort of good luck charm for a safe journey home. + they are seriously just little guys :)

Lucretia would deffo be a Common Loon. so often in art they’re depicted as solitary/sad because of the way their cry sounds but they do travel together, they’re very social birds! I feel like that perception vs reality of their isolation really fits with Lucretia, given that we start the series thinking she’s this mysterious figure who doesn’t even share her name with the boys, but she turns out to be one of the people who loves them most. also, Common Loons are fiercely protective, and I think that fits well with Lucretia’s attempt to cut The Hunger off from their plane

[agentstarkid]

Now idk when you’re gonna update next but if I don’t get an adorable Halloween couples costume with Ruben and girly that when Daniel sees it he almost loses it cause any holidays when they were together was COVID/lockdown so even though they were together they couldn’t actually do fun couples celebrations…we might have to fight 🤷‍♀️

nonnie, I think we are definitely gon' fight, my love WDYM they couldn’t actually do fun couples celebrations?!

They went to a Halloween get together at Dax and Kristen's in 2021 (Kalopsia), while they didn't do cute couple costumes and it wasn't a big party, they did had costumes on (she was a mime and Dan was...a scarecrow..? a farmer..? idk) and I did a little edit and everything so we are beefin' now, babes 😠😤 JUST KIDDING, JUST KIDDING!! NAAAAH SQUARE UP... lol JK JK... unless... 👀👀👀

I reaaaaally wanted to have Ruben and Girlie attending a Halloween party during the last chapter bc I know Man City had one in 2022 but these were all the photos I could find:

and I wanted Girlie to go as Santanico Pandemonium from From Dusk Till Dawn (salma hayek is the queen mother btw)

LOOK!!! AT!!! THIS!!! WOMAN!!!!!

SO LET ME GIVE YOU A LITTLE HEADCANON!!!!

caution: things might get you a little 🔥🔥 bc it certainly got me like that 🥵

Girlie did go to the party with Rúben.

It was their first official outting as a couple.

He went as Michael Myers and she went as Santanico Pandemonium.

He was the one who took those first two pics of her btw and you better believe my man couldn't keep his hands to himself the whole night 🤪

He tried to play it cool, mingling with his teammates, but he kept sneaking glances at her while she was talking with the other wags and every time she passed by, he found an excuse to brush his hand against her waist, pull her closer, or simply rest his palm on her lower back.

it was a no phones 📵 party so that's why there are not many pictures of it

at one point of the night, my girl definitely went up to the dj and told him to put Retrotón (reggaeton oldies that are 🔥🔥) and got the real party started

I definitely think Toda (Remix) by Alex Rose started pumping through the speakers (although this song is not, by any means, retrotón btw) and to me, that song was made to dance suuuuper close 👀

She turned around, her back pressing against his chest, as the beat vibrated through them. With every sway of her hips, she moved sensually against him, her body in perfect rhythm with the music ((obvs, she is latina c'monnnn)). She let her hands glide up her own waist, slowly, teasingly, while her hips rocked against him. And my man Rúben reeeeeally tried to keep his cool, he really did bless him, but the heat between them was impossible to ignore.

she arched her back slightly, leaning into him, grinding against him as the song’s slow, sultry tempo made the entire room disappear. She looked over her shoulder, catching his smoldering gaze—his eyes dark, filled with desire and his ragged breath on her ear 🥵🥵

My man Rubs, clearly affected, wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer, his fingers tightening with every movement she made. "You're going to kill me, anjo," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. She just smiled, knowing exactly the effect she was having on him. "That's the idea," she whispered back, not slowing down for a second.

Rúben, normally composed and controlled, was undone, completely captivated by her every move. His hands gripped her hips tighter, the need to close the distance between them almost overwhelming, but she just continued to tease, drawing out the moment and leaving him completely hot and bothered.

sooooo that's where my man said fuck this and dragged her to some abandoned room in that place or the bathroom ((it's up to you)) and they had their own party iykyk 😏

She might have posted some photos/videos of the night to her CF ((she posted those photos of her and ooooof)) and OF COURSE Danielito—who's still on that list—saw them all bc he defff has her notifications still on ((as much as he claims that he just keeps forgetting to turn it off, we all know that man is LYING))

His jaw dropped, his heartbeat skyrocketed, something else went UP and hard and then he saw green 🤷🏽‍♀️

fuck i need a cold shower now

ANYWAYS, the next halloween party is not coming until the chapter after this one I'm working on bc tumblr only allows me to use 30 pics per post 😩 and about this next one, I'm trying to finish it by the end of the month so I have 2 weeks to get my shit together and finish it, but I WILL FINISH IT because I've been gone for too long 😞

i hope you liked that lil' thing i pulled from my horny lil brain, nonnie!! we'll see what else comes out next lol I might need to make a blurb or something of Girlie and Rúben together hmmm 🤔 we'll see, we'll see...

thank you for reaching out, babes! hope you have a great day!!! ily chaucitoooo 🖤

[doggerell]

ai/ganbreeder ramblings below

Ive been having sooooo much fun with ganbreeder. I am not a fan of that glistening prompt based ai-- I find it ugly in a mostly uninteresting way-- but ganbreeders splicing tool is SO so fascinating. I like that it tracks the history of what images are spliced together and scrolling up the branches just to see more and more completely ai generated images is Fascinating. its ai inbreeding.. its corrupting itself. its grip on reality is ever-slipping because its only feeding itself its own mangled fingers. I think its so interesting. ai is SO scary to me so using it as a tool for horror and uncanny valley specifically is like. the ideal circumstance to me...

reading an article abt art based on ganbreeder images... Ive been thinking abt using it as a tool in my own art, through like photobashing or redrawing stuff, as a collaboration between me and the machine, but the perspective that its also collaboration with the greater ganbreeder community, with other humans as well... like duh, of course. like even in a side of the tool where-- as far as I can tell-- no ones original drawings/artworks are being used (maybe original photos have been inputted Far up the line of command. I havent been able to tell yet.) yeah the collaborate element is very much there where it promotes combination and.. breeding images so much. I think touting it as discovering images rather than creating images makes a lot of sense too. I feel so much complexity around the language of generative images.. like I dont wanna say "generative art" really cause people jump at that and theres a lot of discussion around defining art that... sometimes feels very reductive around what people consider art. but I do understand the concern as well when used in regards to ai. saying "generative content" makes me want to shoot myself though I hate the word content. personally.

anyway all of this is coming about because. Show Me An Angel is very much about ai horror. its about my fear of generative ai and the recklessness I feel the average consumer uses with it. its about what if you tried to play god and the machine decided to give you Exactly what you wanted. but its horrifying. its about a machines horrible dreams of flesh and god and divinity. its about accidentally inviting something sick and powerful into your life.

but working with ganbreeder has made it more complex because. it is sick. in a scary way but also a piteous way. like maybe Starling is hideous and powerful and terrifying but. hes also jittering weakly. and his bones are so, so thin and his limbs are too long and he Really doesnt know what his face or hands should look like or how many eyes or fingers or wings he should have and hes constantly reforming himself to try and fit the image. of what you need. because ultimately you are still in control. he is your prompt, your beast, and he may be too big for you to comprehend anymore, but you are still telling him what he needs to be. and hes sick because hes a virus, hes corrupting your computer and your life and your mind, but hes also sick because hes inbred. and the bottleneck of the unreality of him is going to kill him because he Cant exist like this. not outside the machine, not in the real world.

anyway. I dont think Ive pushed ganbreeder enough now. Im thinking abt thematic metadata. I tried to push images tagged as "dragons" and "angels" and such together to generate him because thats what I had in mind as the backbones of his design but Im thinking more now. I could do it through the genes... if I put a gene for a scorpion in there does it mean more to who he is? if I add in electric guitars and cardigans? like its a cheeky little nod back to the fact that this is Frank behind the curtains. like you dont know that unless you go into the image On ganbreeder and start splicing it yourself but... aah. its just interesting to add Intentionality and imagry to this fucking thing and youre never gonna see it. but its there. its like painting something and then painting over it again. what does it mean that its layered under there? I love abstraction and performance and process as a part of art. and again, I hesitate to call the generation itself art, because obviously this is a complex and controversial issue that I dont have all the answers to or understanding of, but somewhere, some part of this may become art

Id love to post pictures of what Ive been playing with but Im afraid Im gonna get hit with a "oh youre acting all deep and for This? cringe" *pensive* perhaps. its very interesting to me tho. making stuff for Me.

also obviously I am very inspired with ink-the-artist's work in general and esp their ai stuff and this why Im even using ganbreeder in the first place. I think they may be my favorite artist rn. I also saw a really great gallery last year by Matthew Ritchie last year that kinda blew past my kneejerk "all ai is bad" reaction. I had bigtime emotional reactions to his work. I think training a personal GAN off my own photos and art would be fucking fascinating. but its a bit too scary for me still.

I feel like such a mess in all of this because I am too anti ai for the average tech bro by being deathly afraid of it and thinking there needs to be regulations on it but also I am too pro ai for the average tumblr/twitter user by thinking its supremely fascinating as a Tool to be used by artists. ah the nuances. pls be niceys to me.

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

May i Request maybe a Scenario about Ciel And Alois meeting a Modern Person from our world.but instead of telling it freely around the kuroshitsujis manga and anime events,they tell it in riddles and keeps making mysterious refrences of like future events?.. ^^ please have a nice day or night! ^^

of course!! this was so much fun omg

for some reason I was worried I’d struggle with this one, but I breezed right through it!

Ciel and Alois best friends 2k22 they both need more actual friends and I am going to CRY-

anyway this is assuming an AU where the events of the second season went a bit differently, I hope that’s as clear as it can possibly be!

with that said, I’m quite proud of this, sooooo... enjoy <3

As it stands, it’s rare for CIEL and ALOIS to be out and about in town with each other for company.

But as with most things, rarities do happen from time to time. The two earls have been put on assignment together for once ― the Queen’s explanation being that she’d like to see whether or not her Guard Dog and her Spider are more efficient if they work as a team. Logic would dictate yes, given how they’re both knees-deep in her dirty work.

So here they are, strolling through London’s streets, accompanied by their butlers and trying quite hard to get along. Despite having their own issues with one another, they’re… managing.

Alois is better at being carefree and forgiving, or at least he’s better at pretending he is. He’s practically attached to the other man’s arm, prattling away about anything and everything. Ciel is only just barely tolerating it because at least Alois isn’t causing trouble. The blonde is being pleasant enough, and to everyone else it looks like two friends out for an afternoon of shopping rather than two of Her Majesty’s pawns being moved round the chessboard.

“Ciel! I think―” Suddenly Alois stops short, yanking his friend’s arm toward a (predictably, Funtom) candy shop. “― We should go get some sweets. My energy is running frightfully low… if I don’t eat something with sugar, I’m going to faint dead away!”

Ciel huffs even as they enter the shop. The small bell on the door announces their presence regardless of the fact that he’d have just as well preferred to go in quietly. “In that case, may I direct you to the salted liquorice candy Funtom’s just begun to dabble in making?”

Despite the joke at his expense, Alois is well aware that’s all it is; a joke. The two of them have rather taken to teasing each other particularly when they’re getting on well. “You’re terrible! Oh, Sebastian, do keep him away from the lemon drops… he’s sour enough for the both of us!”

“And you say I’m terrible? Get your own house in order, Trancy.”

There’s a stranger lingering by the door inside, with a lollipop in their mouth. “He’s got a point, though!” When they speak, it draws both men’s attention, as well as their butlers’. “The toy is called Funtom’s Bitter Rabbit for a reason. You’re one sour little gent, Ciel Phantomhive. A star waiting to fall.”

Whilst Alois has already returned alarmingly quickly with an armful of candy, Ciel’s taking in the stranger with a curious, wary gaze. People have attempted to kill him with less warning than that, after all. “… I beg your pardon ― do I know you?”

The stranger smiles, a kind of enigmatic gesture as they remove the lolly from between their lips. “Beg all you like, but I’ll pardon you without the need for you to get on your knees. You don’t know me; I’m quite familiar with you and Alois, though. It’s a treat to see the two of you together in good spirits.”

Fairly unperturbed, Alois nudges a couple of toffees into Ciel’s hand, to his companion’s undisguised irritation. “What are you, then? A journalist for the gossip rags or something?”

“Of sorts!” they laugh. “I deal in the future of your world, little bluebell. Do you wonder if you’ll escape the spiderweb soon? Into the dark arms of someone better for you, capable of seeing through your eyes?”

“― Uh??” Both the nickname and the claim of their ‘dealing in the future’ strike Alois slightly speechless. His eyes flicker to Claude for half a second. What on Earth is going on here? That’s an awful lot of riddling just to make it clear that they’re aware of both his past and his future. “You’re babbling on about nothing! Who the hell are you, anyway?”

“Call me (Name)! My apologies if I’m boring you. We can’t all have threads weaving in and out and binding us, making us interesting.” Their gaze shifts to Ciel again. “Or stars in our eyes. When do you think Sirius will rise to meet you, little Gemini?”

Ciel’s confusion is more subdued, not nearly as readily shown as Alois’. If (Name)’s assertion of dealing in the future isn’t just a clever parlor trick, they’re only allowing the two earls a peek at their hand. They’re not outright showing it. And if that’s the case, he’s not going to show his cards, either. “They’re just a second-rate fortune teller trying to swindle us, Alois. Don’t pay them any mind.”

(Name) tilts their head in what appears to be faux curiosity. “How badly you think of me, Ciel. I haven’t asked you for a penny. I know you’d prefer not to give that much, anyway ― in for a penny, in for a pound, as they say.”

Before either of the earls can breathe another word, Sebastian steps in front of his master. His smile is perfect and polished as always, but under it lurks the unmistakable threat of a butler ready to protect his lord. “It’s my turn to offer apologies, (Lord/Lady) (Name). My young master has business to attend to, so we must take our leave now.”

“Ah? That’s right, of course! Please forgive me.” Their plea doesn’t seem to be genuine, however. Their smile mirrors Sebastian’s own. “Fly back to your master’s shoulder, my dear raven. You needn’t worry about me.”

With that, they push themself away from the wall where they’ve been leaning, and they sweep into a bow directed at both earls. “You need only look me up should you want to speak, but I do believe our paths will cross again aside from that. Enjoy your afternoon, my lords.”

The door is propped open before (Name) throws one final look over their shoulder toward Ciel and Alois. “Do watch out for laughs among the dead, though, won’t you? You two pull so many strings in this city�� be careful you’re pulling the right ones.”

And they’re gone, all but vanishing into the crowds outside the door.

The group is silent for a moment as they all try to process what’s just happened. At last, Alois pipes up. “Claude, is it just me, or was that encounter quite strange?”

Gold eyes barely move, locked on the memory of where (Name) just disappeared. “Quite, Your Highness.”

“Agreed,” Sebastian speaks up, with his eyes darting toward where the other demon is looking. “It was most certainly not just you, Lord Trancy.”

“Of course it wasn’t.” Ciel taps his cane on the floor, perhaps with a bit more force than is necessary. “But we’ll worry about them later. Alois, go pay for the sweets so we can get out of here. We’ve got other matters to worry about first.”

The sooner they can deal with the case Her Majesty put them on… the sooner they can look into this (Name).

Curiouser, curiouser, curiouser.

[jess-the-vampire]

Sooooo whatya think of the new episodeee?

Oh it’s definitely my favorite episode of the series so far, i was having such a good time at every turn. I’m glad i went out of my way to avoid spoilers, cause i was glad to actually be surprised by some elements on first watch.

I think this had by far the best opening for an episode so far, we finally get back to the villians, we meet the coven heads, we get insight on belos’s plans-

and then belos gets constipated, which starts getting into the more character driven lore, which is the best part. You instantly can tell GG and Kiki have some bit of tension between them to be Belo’s favorite, though granted i wonder if hunter is the only one to know belos is cursed and actually just always insists to help belos with his fits to prevent others from seeing them.

Including kiki.

It’s honestly unclear how aware anyone is that belos is cursed, like him eating pailsmans is apparently not something he hides, but like....i feel him being cursed is something that people would know universally if it got out...so i’m left wondering if anyone knows besides hunter.

Regardless, belos turns into a goop monster with an angry side, and i guess his mask doesn’t transform with him compared to the rest of his body so he breaks it again because i guess he goes though masks like crazy.

Hunter turns away in this scene from his outburst and even though he’s masked here i can already tell he’s most likely pained in these scenes. Like he’s probably seen this happen so many times, and i can’t imagine it gets any easier for him, it’s probably awful to watch belos suffer like this for him (Regardless of the abuse)

And to be honest, it seems pretty painful for him, i think this ep seems to at least confirm whatever this thing is that takes over belos’s body.....belos never actually wanted it in the first place. 

Yeah so after Hunter tells belos there’s not enough trees to medicate him anymore, we’re hit with the “UNCLE”. Which, when i first watched it i needed a second to even process the fact they confirmed their relation.

and i was like “CLOSE ENOUGH”, not his kid but uncle still works just fine for me, i’m just happy my assumption they were related actually came to ahead.

And i rewatched this episode a few times, and on second watch i realized more what happened in this scene. Hunter was talking about his interest in wild magic, and making more pailsman to help belos, and some method that could heal him and as soon as belos looked at him he instantly shut down.

He was clearly rambling about wild magic cures for belos because of his interest in it, and then suddenly remembered his uncle hates wild magic and felt super awkward.

It seems highly likely his interest in wild magic came from trying to cure belos and spending a lot of time reading up on the stuff. 

And then we get hit with the whole “Our family is dead because of wild magic” line, which.....i’m curious to know what happened there. But it does at least explain why belos feels how he does, if wild magic both killed his family beside hunter AND cursed him in the first place. We’re just gonna need more info on what exactly happened.

Also while Belos is def abusive and does not treat hunter how he should, this scene actually does read off to me like belos does care about hunter to some degree. If belos is cursed and his curse works in similar ways to how Eda’s curse works, then it’s worth reminding ppl that eda mentions early this season how stress can amplify the curse even more.

And sure enough, belos goes goopy on hunter’s shoulder all of a sudden when he grasps him. Which could be considered a sign of stress and that the idea of hunter dying or being in danger actually does stress him.

You could very much also assume this is just due to his curse not being fully handled and just getting worse, or that belos only cares about hunter for selfish reasons....but i’m not taking anything off the table here.

Belos can still be a shitty uncle, and still care about hunter, these aren’t mutually exclusive traits. But we need more episodes for now on this.

But anyways he asks hunter if he can rely on him, kiki is pissed......and we move on.

So i’m glad luz’s impulsiveness is addressed a ton in this episode, they actually bring up a lot of good points. That luz has no plan, that the time she’s spending here might render moot if she goes back to earth, ect ect.

Hunter even calls her out a lot later for not thinking things through, it’s a whole deal in this episode. I’m glad it was brought up cause it’s actually worth asking a lot of these things.

the set up here works, they actually made a good reason for why a pailsman didn’t bond with her. Speaking of which the adoption thing is cute and i love it, it’s a great idea. The designs are all very cute and fun.

Bump face reveal was a lot for me to process, but i find the idea of his pailsman being a pet that can help with his disabilities a good idea.

Also like, i did find it odd that they got staffs so early because we’ve never seen kids their ages with them before, but i guess it’s a new tradition? Does everyone at hexside now have one?

Honesty not sure why batqueen left the nest there overnight, i meant i guess she assumed they were safe with that shield but in context i dunno why she didn’t take them home after the school day was over.

but whatever, luz stays there overnight hoping  a pailsman will bond with her and GG just kidnapps them cause of pure luck on his part a bunch of pailsman were in a vulnerable spot tonight.

So GG continues to be charming, by whistling the theme song and then being blasted off his ship hilariously, before cockily teleporting himself right back on it seconds later. Like he and luz have great banter, he’s so extra like this it’s so funny, and god he’s so FAST with that staff it’s scary but so awesome.

Yeah so then hand dragon crashes them and i was so excited cause it meant face reveal. Poor dude looked so in pain and then we find out kiki tried to effing murder him because of course she did. But like, i think killing your boss’s nephew is the WORST way to get a promotion tbh.

(Also i got confused for a bit cause his mask has always been drawn as a mask, but now it’s a helmet in this scene for whatever reason but-)

Anyways, face reveal, Like honestly ppl weren’t too far off with their guesses, really the only thing people didn’t get was the tooth gap (That was fair tho, we couldn’t have guessed that). But it did make him even cuter.

like the banter is funny, he licks her hand, she slaps him, he looks SO pissed at her for this mess.

and i guess that outfit is his under armor apparently.

He’s lucky she didn’t run away immediately and followed him, but maybe he assumed she would since she had no where else to go.

Also his expressions in this ep are glorious, these had to be fun to draw.

Also we find out that the coven team members have never seen his face i guess? They just assume he’s a silly kid and are awful to him, so i guess he’s not only the youngest member of the coven but he never really shows his face much.

(”Call your parents”, ha ha.....whose gonna tell them who his uncle is?)

He is however, REALLY good at parkour and he’s fast even without his staff, so he’s well trained alright.

And then they reveal he’s not magical and i was SO happy cause i was so sure something was up when he wasn’t doing magic like the other witches despite his pointy ears. So they outright confirmed what i thought.

Hunter is pretty smart tho, like he can tell luz wouldn’t hurt him and wouldn’t flee so he knows he has the high ground here. Like he might be being a bit of a dick, but to be fair luz has been nothing but a dick to him throughout the whole episode (Everyone in this episode has been a dick to him tbh)

They team up and i get excited cause i love this kinda stuff and it gets more wholesome because hunter is super interested in her magic, he thinks it’s cool and you can tell how much he actually loves wild magic but then again...shuts himself down because of belos making him fear the stuff.

An then because luz asks, he tells her his backstory.

honestly with how this world treats people who aren’t magically powerful, living and growing up in a world that would find you useless sounds....awful. Hunter must be an anomaly around here, human blood or not.

Luz coming here to learn is different then growing up in a world and being the only one with no abilities and no future without them. Belos provides him with magic and a future, it’s no wonder he stays with him despite everything.

the whole “Found me” thing is weird, cause belos implies they’re blood related and hunter makes it sound like belos semi-adopted him. Which....if he did i dunno why “Uncle” and not “Adopted dad”, but ok....guess that’s for later.

Apparently hunter is important for something tho with the “Titan has big plans for me” thing, not sure what, but-

But yeah as soon as Hunter talked about wanting to make his own future and Rascal tried to land on him i knew EXACTLY where this was going, it was so cuteeeeee. The lil birb wanted to be with hunter, that’s so wholesome.

And he’s so terrified because of belos and what wild magic did to him, the poor bab.

But yeah, luz then trusts him with his staff back, because again....impulsive. But hunter does actually ask if she’s sure, so he might as well be asking if she trusts him.

The plan goes ahead, and hunter nearly betrays her.

though granted, hunter never promised her he’d stop and let her take them away, the truce was supposed to last till kiki was stopped and they were gonna fight out who got the pailsman. But it does bother luz cause she was hopeful he was better then this.

But just like he did before, she calls him out and he doesn’t betray her, because he’s ALSO too nice to do it, just like he said she was. He says his name (Which also took a moment to process), and then beats the crap out of kiki while letting luz get away and protecting her like a badass.

He might not have magic, but he’s good at fighting

like he can easily teleport to luz and take the pailsman, but he doesn’t, he lets them get away and luz knows this. Even though she also knows hunter has to go back to the emperor too and they have to separate.

It’s only slightly bitter terms, because in the end he came through for her and she knows it.

honestly, the worst part is i can’t even be mad at hunter for it, i’m sure he was terrified to fail belos. Both because he loves him and doesn’t want him to suffer....but also because of well...being punished. Really says something when his near betrayal doesn’t even make me mad at him, and i can understand why he nearly did it.

He let her go, knowing he’d be in SERIOUS trouble and that it would hurt someone he actually loves, so....ouch.

so yeah at this point i knew rascal wanted him so it was only of matter of what happened next.

Which was, luz getting the wood, which i like more anyway. Eda and King doing this offscreen and coming home like this is actually very funny, and honestly i appreciate the message of it being ok to wait.....means a lot to me.

yeah so belos is like...being an ass, like the kid tried his hardest, you don’t need to hit him with the “Is this the thanks i get?”. He’s a kid and he’s trying to cure you you dick, give him a break he doesn’t remotely have to help you like this.

Also apparently belos has not even told hunter HOW this happened, like...dude. Hunter is trying to be entirely reasonable here and belos spikes at him, which does imply some physical abuse though the only reason hunter doesn’t get a new scar is because he moves.

but how he reacts implies this has happened before, he is bracing for impact and he flinches. It’s pretty sad tbh, especially since hunter loves him and belos’s respect means something to him.

Belos is such an idiot, like c’mon dude, hunter is trying to help you and you don’t listen to him you dick. Kid shouldn’t have to say sorry for anything he did nothing wrong, he was just trying to help.

Anyways, he gloats at kiki (So at the very least she knows what he looks like under the mask), which he deserves a chance to do anyway. So i guess he didn’t rat her out for trying to kill him, personally my guess why is blackmail.....he was gonna hold it over her head to keep her from doing it again and threaten to tell belos.

But kiki quickly tells he LET the pailsman get away since he was the one to fight her (Curse his cute loose hair strand). So i guess now they have dirt on each other, so that’s fun.

His room is adorable, though the med kit by the bed is concerning.

Rascal comes for him and it;s so cute....though you can tell hunter nearly hurts him on instinct because of force of habit, but it’s so cute how he cares and how the birb loves him and is his new staff.

it was well hinted to as well, it’s so subtle, but the bird being cheery, curious, and his constant habit of escaping boundaries was perfect for hunter. He represents what hunter wants to be and why they got matched is done so well, all without explaining anything.

Hunter indirectly stated his deepest wish, to make his own choices, and rascal resonated with that. 

can’t wait to see where this goes.

great ending shot, love me some conflicted shots looking out of windows like trapped birds.

also this title was a pun the whole time i can’t-

[kurokoros]

silver tongue | kuroo (kinktober day 5)

Rated: M

Words: 4.9K

Pairing: villain!kuroo x fem!reader

Summary: A late night at the agency takes a turns when you run into Panther, an S rated villain.

AN: I started working on a bnha x hq crossover a while ago, and decided to base character quirks on the kanji in their names, and, well... Kuroo means “black tail” sooooo I wrote tentacle porn. You’re welcome. 

Note: Jishin is, if google translated it correctly, Japanese for “earthquake”, which has to do with Daichi’s quirk in this au.

Kinktober 2020 Day Four: Public Sex + Day Nine: Tentacles

Warnings: smut, oral (male receiving, implied at the end), public sex, manhandling, restraints, quirk play, tentacles, double penetration, teasing, overstimulation, choking, biting, dirty talk (degradation and praise)

X

Leaving Daichi’s new sidekicks squabbling in the corner of the office, you slip out the side door of the Agency, stepping into the quiet alley with a sigh. Your heels click against the ground, and you shiver as the cold night air curls around you. The light breeze tickles your bare legs and arms, your work clothes providing little coverage from the chill, unlike the warmth of the building behind you.

Closing your eyes, you lean back against the brick wall behind you, two fingers rubbing at your temple to chase away an impending headache.

As much as you’ve grown to like the pair of energetic rookies in the short time they’ve been working at the agency, you could do without their constant bickering. Especially this late at night. It was just your luck, really, drawing the short straw tonight. As Daichi’s personal assistants, it was up to either you or Kiyoko to supervise Kageyama and Hinata—fresh out of school and eager to work in the field—as they did their required paperwork. Without someone breathing down their necks, neither boy would get any of it done, and Kiyoko finally cashed in on a favor you owed her to get out of babysitting late into the night.

Not that you can blame her for that. With the amount of petty fights you’ve already had to break up tonight, you would have jumped at the opportunity to leave, too.

A muffled shout comes from the building behind you, but you ignore it. Opting to leave the arguing pair to their own devices for a few minutes. It may not be the best idea, but given the alternative, you’d rather deal with the repercussions later.

Besides, what Daichi doesn’t know won’t kill him.

You drop your hand back to your side, making yourself comfortable against the side of the building despite the rough texture of the bricks and the chilly temperature. Opening your eyes, you turn your gaze to the mouth of the alley, tucked between the agency and a café that closed hours ago. Despite the late hour, the streets are still bathed in light from the moon and the street lights.

A shadow moves in the corner of your eye. Soundless as it slinks across the ground. Graceful. It’s gone as soon as you glance to the right, and you frown, but decide not to dwell on it as you return your gaze to one of the old buildings across the street. A trick of the light, that’s all it was. Or one of the skittish stray cats you’ve caught Asahi feeding on more than one occasion. It’s late, but not late enough for anyone to be causing trouble, especially this close to such a reputable agency.

But the shadow moves again, just barely visible in the hazy space where the light from the streetlamp melds back into the darkness. It squirms again, a dark shape against the ground. This time, you’re faster, following the movement with your eyes just in time to catch something black disappearing back into an unlit part of the alley. It flickers at the edge of your vision almost tauntingly, coaxing you to follow, and your brows furrow in confusion.

Peering into the darkness where it vanished, your breath hitches when you make out the silhouette of a tall, suit-clad figure leaning against the alley wall across from you. You tense, eyes widening just the slightest as raw, icy fear grips your chest.

A pair of vibrant eyes meet yours through the shadows, and a lazy grin spreads across a handsome face. “Don’t you know it’s not smart to be at the office alone this late at night, kitten?” There’s a playful lilt to his voice, almost deceptively sweet. He shifts against the wall he’s leaning on, eyes narrowing playfully. “There might be villains around.”

The irony isn’t lost on you.

Across from you, Kuroo’s lips twitch as you stay silent. Irritated, perhaps. Or maybe this is all part of some game to him. He stares at you through the lock of messy hair falling in his face, relaxed despite how close he is to such a well-known Hero Agency. Especially one that’s been tracking him for so long.

His hands casually slip into the pockets of his slacks. “What’s wrong?” he asks, cocking his head to the side. Amusement dances in the depths of his gaze. “Cat got your tongue?”

An indignant scoff leaves the back of your throat. Cat? More like a— “Panther,” you say, purposely using his alias. It’s not a greeting—not quite, anyway. And it sounds strange on your tongue.

Kuroo’s eyes narrow into a glare. He’s always hated how his villain name sounds coming out of your mouth. Almost mockingly. Taunting him. Pressing his buttons in just the right way. You’ve never been truly afraid of him. Despite his reputation. Despite the fact that you’re quirkless. And that’s what makes this so much fun.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, before he can respond with one of the sly remarks nettled on his silver tongue. The question is breathier than you mean for it to be, a result of the intoxicating concoction of emotions swirling inside you. Shock. Confusion. Lingering fear from the split second you didn’t recognize him. And beneath that, something else.

You wet your lips, glancing at the door to your right. You can still hear Kageyama and Hinata inside. Their arguing is louder than before, but still muffled through the wall. They probably haven’t even noticed you slipped outside yet. And you doubt they will. At least, not for a while.

Kuroo follows your gaze, but otherwise doesn’t move. For a moment, he listens as well, finally hearing the tell-tale sounds of arguing from inside. Something in his expression shifts, his grin devilish. You squeeze your thighs together. “I was in the neighborhood,” he tells you nonchalantly, as if he isn’t a wanted criminal lurking outside of a building owned by one of the men intent on arresting him. Those clever eyes shift back to you. “Thought I might check on my favorite assistant.”

His tone is teasing, but you recognize the hint of genuine concern that flickers in the depths of his hazel eyes, and it makes you soften for a split second. You hate when he does that. He’s not supposed to care about you, and you’re sure as hell not supposed to care about him. But then, you aren’t supposed to be fooling around with him either.

This time, you snort, eyes rolling. “Well, as you can see, I’m fine.” Pausing, you glance at the building behind you again, wondering if you should say anything else. Kuroo must know by now that you aren’t alone. It would be impossible not to hear the amount of shouting going on inside the agency. “Kageyama and Hinata are here. We have them doing paperwork tonight. I’m babysitting.”

Kuroo’s brow furrows as he tries to connect the names to the faces he’s seen. Once he does, he narrows his eyes. “Jishin left his pretty little assistant alone with just some rookies?” he asks, using your boss’s alias mockingly. “What are a couple of kids going to do if some big, bad villain shows up and attacks the place?” Because that’s what he is, right? A big, bad villain.

What does that make you?

You choose not to take the bait. “What are you really doing here, Kuroo?” you ask him, lowering your voice even though there’s no one around to hear you. “Shouldn’t you be lying low? It’s only been a few days since you and Daichi—”

One long, black tendril shoots from his lower back. It lashes out. You cut off with a yelp as it races towards you, wrapping around both of your wrists and pinning them above your head before you can react. Gasping, you tug at the squirming limb, but it only coils around you tighter, squeezing. Like a warning. It’s cool to the touch, smooth against you, and the strange sensation makes you shudder. The tip wriggles against the inside of your arm, almost ticklish.

“I don’t want to hear his fucking name out of your mouth,” he snaps, Daichi’s name setting him off. Just like you knew it would. His eyes narrow again, his jaw clenching. The slim tentacle around your wrists tightens, and you bite your tongue to hold back an embarrassing whimper. Pulse pounding, your heart stutters in your chest when he sends you a look that makes you tremble.

Kuroo slips his hands out of his pockets as he takes a step towards you. Gravel crackles beneath his feet, loud in the otherwise quiet alleyway. Gold eyes glint beneath the dim light of the streetlamps. Predatory. Hungry. His lips curl into a smirk as he stops just in front of you, his chest nearly brushing against yours.

Your breath catches at his proximity, and his grin widens. You swallow down another soft, pitiful sound that bubbles up in your throat, but he’s close enough to notice the way your pupils dilate.

“I think you know exactly why I’m here,” he says, voice a low hiss in your ear. “So, don’t play dumb. You know better than that.”

The shadows around him squirm, something moving behind him, so dark it blends in perfectly with the murky walls of the alley. Another tendril curls out from behind his back, flickering back and forth like the tail of an irritated cat. You shiver again as it reaches for you, lashing out just like the last one. The tip of the tentacle ghosts across your cheek, caressing you. It’s a startling contrast from the rough way your hands are stretched above your head, an ache already forming in your shoulders.

The loving stroke against your cheek isn’t matched by the mischievous glint in his eyes. “Didn’t you miss me, kitten?” Though still teasing, there’s a note of blatant affection to the endearment this time. Even his eyes soften just a little, betraying his fondness for you, though it’s hidden away again just as quickly.

“No,” you huff, struggling against the binding around your wrists. It doesn’t budge, only wriggles against you tauntingly. It’s a blatant lie, and Kuroo sees right through it.

His grin twists into an exaggerated pout, but the mocking look in his eyes never dims. “Ouch.” Kuroo presses a hand to his chest, like you’ve wounded him. “You’re going to break my heart.”

You lean into the cool touch of his quirk against the side of your face. “Like you have one.”

While you mean for it to be biting, scathing, the quip comes out breathy, and it only makes him laugh. It’s dry, humorless. “Maybe I don’t,” he agrees. You can’t make out the look in his eyes. “But that’s never stopped you from letting me fuck you before.”

“Fuck you,” you say, embarrassed by the way you arch into his touch instinctively.

He clicks his tongue. “You’re being such a brat tonight. I thought you might’ve learned to behave after last time.”

The tentacle touching your cheek shifts, brushing the corner of your lips before sliding lower. You inhale sharply as it glides down the front of your throat, wriggling. The phantom sensation of those tentacles wrapping around your throat and squeezing has your thighs rubbing together. Heat pools in your lower belly, and your legs start to tremble.

You’re not subtle enough to escape his watchful eye, but Kuroo doesn’t lean in. He doesn’t reach for you—doesn’t pry your legs apart the way you want him to—he just watches you with those catlike eyes, drinking in the way you squirm under the familiar touch of his quirk. The tip of the tentacle flicks against your collarbone almost playfully.

It’s his name that falls from your pretty mouth this time—his real name, and pride swells in his chest at the needy tone of your voice. “Tetsurou,” you gasp, and his given name sounds so, so sweet coming from your mouth. Much better than his other name. “We can’t. They’re still inside. If we get caught, you’ll—” You cut off with a yelp as the tentacle slithers beneath the neckline of your shirt and yanks.

The blouse you’re wearing rips down the middle. Buttons snap from your now ruined shirt, scattering across the ground near your feet. Kuroo reaches for your waist as his tentacle traces the soft cup of your bra, starting from the outer edge and following the curve of your breast to the thin band beneath.

Kuroo quiets your half-hearted concerns. His stare follows the path of the extra limb, and you think he’s about to rip your bra as well. Anticipation makes you tremble, your heart beating faster.

The tentacle disappears from your chest, slinking back to Kuroo’s side like a loyal pet. It squirms, wriggling provocatively as it twists and curls through the air, level with his hips. The hands that slide against your waist are a welcome distraction, and the tentacle coiled around your wrists squeezes, as if reminding you that you’re still stuck, pinned against the wall and helpless against his quirk.

“If you really want to stop, just say the word.” He nuzzles against your cheek, lips brushing against the corner of your mouth as he speaks. You arch into him, hips rocking against the thigh that slips between both of yours. He pulls his leg away. “Out loud, kitten. I want to hear you say it.”

You gasp a needy, “Don’t.” Kuroo grins as you whimper and lean into his warm hands when they rub against your sides. “Don’t stop. Please, Tetsu, I—” Two of his fingers slip beneath your bra to pinch your nipple, and you cut off with a squeal.

“Behave and maybe I’ll let you cum.” The words are murmured against your lips. Your back arches off the wall as his lips press against yours. The kiss is harsh, all tongue and teeth, and you moan against his mouth. You struggle against the tentacle around your wrists, but it doesn’t budge. Kuroo’s teeth dig into your bottom lip until it hurts, his tongue soothing the bite when you whimper and rock your hips against his.

It’s been so long since he was able to touch you like this—weeks since he had to go into hiding—and he’s not leaving until he’s had his fun with you. Your fingers twitch, desperate to reach for him, to pull him closer, and your struggling only makes his amusement grow.

A cold touch to your leg makes you flinch, and Kuroo swallows your surprised moan as the tentacle that was idle at his side curls around your thigh. It coils around you like a snake, wrapping around you before tugging, forcing your legs apart. You rock your hips towards his, but Kuroo leans just out of your reach, and the tentacle forcibly pulls your hips back against the wall.

“Tetsu,” you say again, mewling his name this time, the sound muffled against his mouth.

His lips move to your cheek, wandering across your soft skin until he finds that special, sensitive spot just beneath the curve of your jaw. Teeth graze the delicate skin of your throat, right over your racing pulse. Eyes fluttering shut, you tilt your head back against the alley wall, letting him angle your head how he wants it.

An approving hum vibrates against you before Kuroo bites down, teeth digging in hard enough to make you wince. He soothes away the pain with a soft kiss, only to bite you again as soon as you relax, a little lower than the last. Sharp canines prick at your skin; your pulse jumps.

Your squirming and whimpering only makes him chuckle. The rough sound vibrates against the side of your throat, and he presses one last kiss to your delicate skin before pulling away.

The dark tendril wrapped around your leg sweeps back and forth lazily, the tip teasing your inner thigh with slow circles and nonsensical shapes, mimicking the movement of his fingers. It strokes you from your knee to where your skirt is bunched halfway up your thigh, flirting with the hem before dancing away.

He’s playing with you. Taunting you. Trying to get you to beg. Each fleeting touch causes the dull ache between your legs to intensify, and the way you’re pinned down and put on display for him only makes you wetter. And he knows it, too. The bastard.

Kuroo leans back suddenly, whistling as he takes in the sight of you. Chest heaving. Shirt ripped open. Bound by shadowy black tendrils that writhe against you. “Look at you,” he coos, lazy fingers wandering over your soft skin, drinking you in. Kuroo follows the line of your collarbone with the pad of his thumb.

His head cocks to the side. There’s an absolutely wicked look in his eyes when they meet yours. “What do you think that boss of yours would say if he could see you like this?” He hums, and his fingers move higher, ghosting against the front of your throat. It would be so easy for his hand to wrap around your neck and choke you, but he just strokes his thumb over the faint indents left by his teeth. He presses his thumb into your neck a little harder. Just enough to make you gasp. “Spreading your legs for a villain in some dirty, back alley. Moaning like a whore.” He chuckles when you whimper, leaning in so that his lips brush against yours when he says, “Such a naughty girl.”

The tentacle around your leg wriggles suddenly. The tip disappears under your skirt, trailing up the inside of your thigh. “But you’re going to be good for me, yeah?” he asks you, grinning at the way your head falls back against the wall, your eyes squeezing shut in bliss as the tentacle strokes you through your panties, tracing your dripping slit. It’s cold. Slick. Wrong. And you shudder as it flicks over your clit with just the right amount of pressure.

You try to swallow down the moan building in your throat, but it comes out as a high-pitched whine instead. “Tetsu,” you gasp, arching into him as the tentacle continues to play with you. His smirk widens as you try to roll your hips against the slick movement between your legs, only for his tentacles to hold you down harder.

Your fingers dig into your palms, nails biting at your skin as the stroking between your legs becomes more teasing, the tentacle lazily flicking against you. It isn’t enough to do more than tease you. Frustrated tears well in your eyes, but there’s nothing you can do but let him play his game.

He’s waiting, watching you. And you know exactly what he wants.

“Fuck, I bet you just love this, hmm?” His hand moves from your throat to your jaw. The tips of his fingers dig into your skin. “You’re so wet already, and I’ve barely even touched you.” His thumb brushes against your bottom lip. Mock sympathy drips from his tongue. “Oh, but I bet I know why.”

Heat pools in your lower belly as Kuroo’s head tilts to the side. A dark, twisting mass rises from behind him, and the large tentacle splits in two before your eyes, branching off as it reaches for you. One moves low, wrapping around your neglected leg. It doesn’t move to stroke you like the other, but the tip draws circles against your inner thigh. So, so gentle. The motion would be soothing, if you didn’t know exactly how dangerous they can be. Tearing through skin and bone when he wants them to.

“Could it be this?” he asks, watching as the other tendril snakes across your torso, barely brushing against you. It follows the curve of one of your breasts all the way to your neck, and the sound that falls out of your mouth when it wraps around your delicate throat is absolutely lewd. He chuckles. You recognize the look in his eyes, and it only makes you shudder harder.

The pathetic little mewling sound that falls from your mouth is all the answer he needs.

The tentacle around your neck teases one of the spots where he bit you, and the one between your legs strokes just a little bit harder. “Are you really that fucking depraved?” Kuroo asks you, sneering. “Fuck, kitten, you’re practically dripping,” the tentacle between your legs slips beneath your damp panties, “and all because you just can’t wait for me to fuck that cute cunt of yours with my quirk. Right here where anyone could walk by and see you.” You moan, because of his words or the tentacle that rubs against your clit, you aren’t sure. “I bet you’d just love that. Little slut.”

Like your shirt, your underwear is ripped down. The soaked, lacy fabric gets caught on the tentacles wrapped around your legs. Kuroo clicks his tongue, rucking up your skirt to get a better look at your slick thighs as the tentacle flicks over your clit once more. As his fingers graze your soft, inner thighs, the tendril drawing circles against you hooks around your panties and pulls. It tears, and you wince as the fabric snaps against your skin. Rough fingers slip between your legs, taking the ruined fabric from the tentacle and pocketing it. He makes sure to brush the lace against your clit as he pulls away.

Shakily, you take a deep breath, head tilting back just enough for you to meet his gaze. “You’re the one that wants to fuck me with them,” you remind him, fighting the urge to shiver as one of his tentacles strokes you directly, covering itself in your slick. “Who’s really the depraved one?”

The jab makes him grin. “So mouthy,” he murmurs again. The tentacle around your neck tightens, but doesn’t choke you. The pointed tip slides across your jaw and cheek, prodding at the corner of your mouth. It slides over your lips, but you refuse to part them. Kuroo sighs, disappointed. “I’ll have to fix that.”

Without warning, the tentacle stroking your slit shoves inside your pussy, spreading you open wide. Your lips part in a surprise squeal, but the other tentacle slips into your mouth, muffling the sound before it can tear from your throat. You moan around it, and Kuroo curses under his breath, feeling the vibrations through his quirk.

Another choked whine sounds through the empty alley, and he hushes you, stroking your cheek with his knuckles. Your hips lurch against the squirming sensation inside you, but the tentacles wrapped around your limbs hold you against the wall, forcing you to stay still as it wiggles.

“Careful, kitten,” Kuroo warns you, a smug look on his face. “You wouldn’t want Jishin’s little sidekicks to hear you moaning like a whore.” Those catlike eyes drift down your torso, locking on the thick tentacle stretching your dripping cunt. The tentacle in your mouth wiggles, pressing against your tongue and teeth. It pushes against the back of your throat, and you try not to gag. When you whimper again, Kuroo chuckles. “Or maybe you would.”

The palms of his hands land on your bare thighs, coaxing them further apart for a better view of the sloppy mess you’re making all over the tentacle between your legs. It’s a strange feeling. Smoother than his cock. Colder. It moves erratically, squirming inside you rather than thrusting. The tapered tip finds your sweet spot, rubbing and prodding until your hips jerk and you start to squirm again.

Around your left leg, the other tentacle holding you open starts to move, creeping across your inner thigh to join the other between your legs. Kuroo watches it slide over your skin, his pupils blown wide with arousal as he watches his black tails writhe around you, simultaneously pinning you in place and stroking you purposely. They know just where to touch to turn you into a whimpering mess, and you cry out around the tendril in your mouth when the tentacle stuffed inside your dripping pussy slides part way out before slamming back inside of you.

The other, thinner one flicks over your clit. Your moan is muffled by the tentacle shoved down your throat. All four wiggle in delight as you arch your back, trying to match the pace of the tentacle that begins to pound into you. It’s thick inside you, stretching you obscenely, and Kuroo chuckles under his breath as he watches your pretty cunt swallow the shadowy tendril.

He takes a step back and slips his hands back into his pockets, watching the tentacle fuck you with a wild look in his eyes, like a cat toying with a mouse that’s already been caught. As he cocks his head to the side, his stares intently as your cute pussy as it drips all over the wriggling appendage. Slick glistens against the black tendril with every harsh thrust, and Kuroo shivers at the phantom sensation of your cunt clenching around one of his black tails.

The one playing with your clit strokes over you slowly, swirling against your swollen nerves in the same slow, teasing way as Kuroo’s tongue.

“I guess you really are a depraved little slut,” he muses, leaning his weight onto one leg. “Letting a bunch of filthy tentacles ravish you in a dirty alleyway.” Gold eyes glint possessively as they lock with yours. “And look how well you take them.”

A muffled moan falls from your mouth, and the tentacle pressed against your tongue thrusts against the back of your throat languidly, wiggling in a way that borders on uncomfortable. The tentacle in your mouth slides out of you wetly, leaving a trail of saliva across your cheek as it retreats to your neck, coiling tighter around your throat as you gasp for breath.

The tentacle thrusts against you harder, and this time there’s nothing in your mouth to muffle you as you cry out. “Ah, Tetsu, please.” You practically sob his name, writhing almost as much as the tendrils fucking you. “Please, I can’t—” You cut off with a whine, your head tossed back against the wall as you squeeze your eyes shut. By now you’ve started trembling, pleasure feeding into the tight little ball of tension in your lower belly with every rough thrust and stroke from his quirk.

“That’s right, kitten,” Kuroo murmurs. The jingle of his belt coming undone makes you whimper, and you force your eyes open, watching as his hand slips beneath his slacks, palming his hard cock. “Beg me to let you cum. You sound so fucking pretty when you beg for me.”

Your mouth is moving immediately, whimpering garbled pleas and breathy versions of his name between the gasps and moans rolling off your tongue. You’re only half aware of what you’re saying, but delight flickers in his eyes with every word. He strokes himself slowly, watching as you start to come undone.

The appendage around your throat constricts, stealing your breath.

The tentacle inside you writhes as the one on your clit rubs against you at just the right angle, and your mouth drops open in a silent scream as the knot of tension inside you snaps. You choke out a rough, strangled version of his name, whimpering as you tremble, writhing against the limbs holding you in place. The tentacles fuck you through it, pace never slowing as they draw out the pleasure until there are tears welling in your eyes from the intensity.

Shaking as you start to come down from the high, you wince when the pounding doesn’t stop. “Tetsu. I can’t—” The tendril that flicks over your clit again makes you flinch, and the one still stuffed inside your pussy thrusts against you roughly, making your walls clench. A hissed exhale escapes from between your teeth, your eyes squeezing shut at the raw feeling of overstimulation. “Too much,” you gasp, starting to struggle against the near painful pleasure.

You shiver as he caresses your cheek, his hand warm against your clammy skin. “Oh, sweetheart,” he coos as you lean into his touch, thumb brushing against your bottom lip lovingly. “You didn’t think we’d be done that fast, did you? No, we’re just getting started.”

The tentacles curled around your limbs suddenly yank you towards Kuroo, pulling you away from the side of the building. They drag you down to your knees, and you wince as gravel digs into your skin. The tentacle around your wrists release you, but before you can grab Kuroo’s thighs to steady yourself, they’re wrenched behind you back, binding you again.

Kuroo nudges your thighs further apart with his foot. An approving sound rumbles in his chest as he watches the tentacle continue to fuck you despite your whimpering. He grabs your chin between his thumb and fingers, grip bruising as he tilts your head up, forcing you to look at him. A devilish look flashes in his eyes, sharp and predatory as he looks at you, on your knees for him. He shoves the front of his pants down with his free hand, clever fingers sneaking inside to stroke himself.

There’s a reason they call him a panther. “Now be a good girl and suck my cock.”

[undergrounddweller89]

(I was tipsy when I wrote this fell asleep finished the last bit when I woke up hope it isn't horrible more Walter Killian stuffs)

Walter came in late after finally having his first party, like real party.

Lance and Marcy had helped set up something for his birthday, it was a few days after it as spy buisness had kept them from finding the time to do so on the day, Walter's concentration was lack there of as he giggled stumbling through the door, obviously he'd been dropped off outside his house where his house mate lived with him, Tristan Mcford, he fumbled in the dark going to the kitchen, mmm he remembered he still had some cake in there...cake sounded sooooo good right now.

He opened the fridge door the soft glow filling the kitchen frowning at the empty space where the cake had been, he patted the shelf as if It'd make it appear.

He pouted oh yeah he'd eaten it at lunch...a snack bar would suffice instead.

In the door way stood a tall man, wearing nothing but a shirt and boxers , Killian had not gone to the party, loud events such as that made him uncomfortable, he was not one for socialising unless he had to, though Beckett was the exception, at least he knew not to talk to him until he'd had his morning coffee.

He leaned a shoulder against the frame watching Walter just giggle and search for the snack box, perhaps he should help him, he had wondered what the scientist would be like with a few drinks in him, it made him relax to know he was a giggly sort of drunk.

He walked over reaching up onto the top shelf, of course he'd put it up there without thought, he was pressed up against Walters back as he grabbed it off the shelf, it was just a moment of contact, he didn't know how to tell him how he felt...how did you tell a man as sweet as Beckett that you felt something for him, when you were someone who could kill with ease.

Walter turned around and looked up at him grinning, ohhh he could feel all of him and he liked it.

"Triiiistan, you look pretty in the moonlight."

Killian moved back, clearly seeing what was going through Becketts mind and he was not the type to have someone in this condition.

"That's the fridge light Beckett, you left it open."

He replied flatly.

Walter peeked around Killian, giggling,

"So it is, did I pull you out of there cause you look like a snack."

If Killian had been drinking something he might just have done a spit take or spat his drink from laughing.

"Walter you're inebriated, you should go to bed."

"Well if you lay down, I'll get into you then won't I."

Beckett winked, leaning forward and drawing invisible circles on Killian's chest.

Oh dear god Walter was a giggly horny drunk....he took Walters hand and shook his head

"No, I am not going to take advantage of you Beckett, you need to get to bed..."

Killian replied firmly, letting go of him and went to close the fridge door only to feel Walter wrap his arms around his waist and nuzzle against his back.

"Fine but only if you cuddle me to sleep, I demandeth the snuggles or I will find a way to remove your boxers."

Tristan stood up straight, what in the god damned hell of all being, this...this wasn't fair, he inwardly pouted because yes even reforming criminal master minds could pout when something they wanted was so close and yet circumstances made it so far.

His jaw clenched and he sighed

"Fine, but if you put your hands anywhere inappropriate Walter I will be putting you in your bed and locking my door."

"Yaaaay cuddles, mmm what do you like to drink Trillian?"

Walter asked still rubbing his cheek on Tristans back making contented sounds.

Oh yes he was indeed smashed.

"Walter, you literally just mixed up my alias with my name you need sleep...come on now, let's get you upstairs to beddy night night."

"Killian I told you not to say it like that."

Walter whined, gently headbutting Killians back, still not letting go of his waist.

"Yeah I know, but it's just too much fun teasing ya."

"You're a big meanie."

Beckett whined, lightly biting at him.

"Oi, now what did I say about no inappropriate touching."

Killian chuckled

"You still want that snack pack?"

"Yes I dooo."

Feeling Walters hands trying to go down he grabbed them

"Not that snack pack Walter, behave, I'm beginning to feel my virtue's at stake here."

He pulled out of his grasp and handed him the opened packet, Walter took it and huffed

"The only risk here is -

He took a bite and continued talking with his mouth full

"Is my virtue being in tact forever because you won't bend me over and take it."

Walters frustration was soon forgotten though as he cuddled up to Killian again.

Killian was internally flailing, screaming whatever you wanted to call it, how long had he felt this way, had he been missing the signs?

"Walter if you wake up feeling the same, sober where you have a clear mind and consent then I assure you I'll nail you more firmly to that bed than -"

Walter had reached up and started messing with Killian's hair

"You know you look good with messy hair, you want some?"

Killian's mind just stalled, he wasn't entirely sure if Walters mind had wandered because he was drunk or maybe changed his mind on wanting him to bed him, well if he had then at least he wouldn't need to worry about the cuddles Walter wanted, he leaned forward biting into the offered Marshmallow and rice treat, lips pressed against finger tips, he stole only fleeting moments like that where he was not so abrupt.

Killian shivered, it was cold in the kitchen at 2am after all

"Alright, we ate something, I'm tired, it's cold, bed's warm."

He took Walters hand and found the scientist very compliant as they went up the stairs, one of the reasons he'd agreed to the cuddles was because he was concerned the idiot might fall asleep in his own vomit if he were to bring it up in the middle of night and the idea of finding dead terrified him.

He stopped by his room and pulled a shirt out for Walter to wear then told him to get changed in the bathroom.

"Ooooo I always wanted to wear one of your shirts it'll be sooooo big on me, just like I know you'll be so big in-"

"Walter, bathroom get changed, piss and make sure to wash your hands."

Killian interrupted him, pinching the bridge of his nose, if they were in a relationship he'd help him change...he might still need to as Walter stared at him blankly as if everything he'd just said went right over his head, right well it was purely an innocent act of help, didn't need Beckett to make a mess all over the floor, he could only imagined how embarrased the young man would be in the morning if he remembered doing that.

He helped him remove his upper garments, Killian swiftly pulled the grey shirt over his head, looking away when Walter pulled down his pants, giggling

"You can look if you want you naughty man."

"No Beckett...not like this."

Mcford kept his gaze on the bathroom wall, thankful it was only the moonlight that lit up the room, he actually blushed, thee Killian, Tristan Mcford....robohand blushing at being called naughty in such a mischievous manner.

His robotic eye did flare though in brightness momentarily but thankfully and so very thankfully Walter had made it to toilet himself and even remembered to pull up the shirt, last thing he needed to deal with was a soaked shirt and having to give him a new one, he might actually tear Lance and Marcy a new one for leaving Walter like this.

Walter was clearly falling asleep now, Killian knew this because when he asked if he was done he heard a soft snoring and looked back to see Beckett leaning against the wall.

This wasn't the first time he had to handle a drunk man, he'd had friends on the team he'd lost who ended up like this.

He leaned forward and patted his face

"Come on Beckett, you'll get a stiff neck like that."

He grumbled, sighing as the younger man made a sound and sat up so abruptly he smacked his head on Killian's chin.

"Ooww I hit my head Killy..."

He leaned forward and rested on Killian pouting

"Kiss it better?"

Tristans nostrils flared, yes he was gonna kill Lance, Marcy politely though, a gentle man never made a mess of a woman's death...it was only a half threat he made privately perhaps if it'd been some months earlier he might have actually tried it.

"Fine."

He placed a quick kiss to his forehead

"There all better, now let's get your hands washed and put you to bed."

He managed to get that done without much hassle until Walter wrapped his arms around his neck and went all but limp

"Carry me, or I will sleep right here."

Killian was feeling a little done with this, not because he didn't want to, all he wanted to do was kiss him and tell him how endearing he was being, he didn't even argue he was tired and did want to get back to sleep, lifting him bridal style he carried Walter to his room, it seemed Walter was aware enough though to realise it was the wrong room and put a hand on the door frame looking at him

"Noooo that's my room, we gonna snuggle in yours rememberrr oh my god you're so pretty."

He giggled nuzzling Tristans cheek.

Why him, why did he have to be the one carrying the cute scientist at nearly three am, he would sneak out of the bed and sleep on the couch once Walter was asleep.

"You're an idiot Beckett at times I swear."

Killian retorted going down the hall to his room, he set Walter down who before he could even tell him not to take the left side of the bed had already settled into it.

"Mmmm comfy be comfier when you get in hurrrry need snuggle wuggles."

"I'll give you fucking snuggle wuggles in a minute."

Killian muttered under his breath, no he wasn't some huge softie, he could still feel aggravated, but when he looked down and saw Walter reaching out for him sleepily his annoyance melted away...alright maybe he was a little soft when it came to Beckett.

He climbed in and wrapped an arm around him, letting him snuggle up to him, he stroked along his spine just from the neck and down between his shoulder blades, feeling him settle completely into asleep, Tristan found himself too relaxed now to move, sleep was beginning to find him to.

"I love you Walter Beckett."

He whispered softly, gently kissing the top of his head and burying his face into his hair, he was finally confessing for the first time to him in a moment he felt safe and thought Beckett wouldn't hear him, the warmth of just holding Walter made Tristan wonder if he'd gone to heaven.

Walter woke up barely for a moment asking him if he'd said something, Killian only chuckled affectionately

"I said good night Walter."

"Oh...good night..."

Beckett smiled against his neck and kissed it lightly

"Love you to."

And fell promptly back to sleep.

Killian however did not sleep a single wink that night.

Damn it.

[sonderthroughthestreets]

Splitting Universes

Here is the sobbe fic that I wanted to write for their anniversary last friday but obviously im late for it lol

Someone said that Sander said “In every universe” because it comforts Robbe with his multiverse theory and that Robbe said “At least in this universe” because it comforts Sander who believes that life is what you choose to make of it. Sooooo, here is Sander painting on Robbe’s back while talking about the universe and brown-haired Sander asking Robbe to marry him. Hope you enjoy!

“Hold still, will you?” Sander’s voice faltered into a chuckle.

He was sitting on the floor, back to the edge of the bed, legs crossed, holding Robbe as he tried to glide his paintbrush across the skin on his back. The two of them had summer break before the start of the next year and they’d somehow found themselves fooling around, dancing in Sander’s room and finally settled into a spark of an idea in Robbe’s mind to let him paint his back. His shirt was gone and he’d sunk into the floor, crossing his legs too, leaning forward instead of letting himself lean back in the comfort of Sander’s arms.

“The paint is cold. I’m cold ok,” Robbe scoffed, turning his head to try to meet his eyes with a smile. But Sander smirked with half-lidded eyes and pushed his head back into place. He let out a breath of the tiniest laugh.

It was killing Robbe not to look at him. Especially not after he grew out his hair. Sander had cut it a few years ago and let it go back to its natural brown, let the bleach blond wash out and wash away. It was terribly short then, but now it had grown out in longer locks that he just had to style every morning. Today, it was tousled in a messy-but-every-hair-was-perfectly-in-place kind of way. It looked similar to when his hair was bleached but darker roots had replaced the white wash. Some days Robbe could swear he’d seen Sander like this his whole life and others he felt like he was looking at a whole new world.

He also wished that he could see his face right now, the concentration he wore when a creative mood strikes.

“Are you almost done?” Robbe asked.

“Not even close,” Sander answered, his fingers moving swiftly, changing between brushes and colours.

“Can you at least give me a hint?”

“Mmhhh,” he mused. “It’s something we talk about a lot.”

“That could literally be anything,” Robbe pouted. He wanted to know what Sander envisioned across his back.

“Let’s talk about it now,” he dipped his brush in water. “You think that when someone makes a decision, the universe splits itself,” he said. Nothing more. Silence as Robbe contemplated.

“You’re painting me the universe?” Robbe shifted to try to look back at him.

“Hold. still.” Sander gripped his shoulders.

“What kind of universe?” Robbe pondered. He lazily ran a finger down his own palm as he awaited his answer, the fan humming in the summer heat.

“I don’t know” he smiled, though Robbe couldn’t see it. “Any universe you want.”

The way he said that made Robbe smile too. The way that when he said it, he meant all the universes, that he could have any universe because in all of them, one way or another, they were together.

“Hhmmm,” Robbe murmured in contentment. He stared around Sander’s room: the Bowie posters spread across the walls, his camera laying on his disorganized desk, papers and drawing utensils scattered, his easel in the corner, the dresser off to the side, his clothes neatly folded on the bed. The open window let the warm breeze through and the sky made everything in his room glow the softest, palest blues, greys and greens. Robbe’s eyes finally landed on his shirt discarded on the hardwood floor and he felt shivers all over again as cold paint slid on his skin.

It was moments like these where they talked some, then fell into silence, talked some more and finally fell into each other’s touch that eased both their minds. Sander was very quiet now.

“What are you thinking?” Robbe asked.

A sort of sad smile crossed his face, one that he couldn’t see.

“Sander.”

And Sander knew that tone all too well. He delicately placed a hand on Robbe’s neck, softly smiled into his hair and kissed his head. Once, twice, a third time for good measure.

“Do you remember our first night at the hotel?” he asked softly.

“How could I forget?” Robbe sighed happily. But his fingers weren’t on him anymore and Robbe actually felt heat dissipate from behind him as Sander leaned back a bit. He turned his head the slightest, hesitant to look at him for fear he might actually ruin the work on his back. Robbe waited patiently. He recognized his insecurities at play but he wasn’t quite sure of what.

“I know that..” Sander started. “I know that that night I wasn’t...but I meant every word...and I know that I asked once already...”

He was grasping for courage to say what he wanted. Robbe knew he could be ever so confident in his words, even more so in his touch, but sometimes it faltered and he saw him sheepish and insecure. Things started to click in Robbe’s mind. They hadn’t exactly talked about this since that night. At least not seriously. It was always fun banter, like an inside joke or like the continuation of an ongoing plan that may or may not ever be seen through. They were so busy living in the moment, the future had seemed so far away.

It had been

“When we get married I’m painting everything in the house. We’re not buying prints”

“When we get married?”

“We’re getting married right now”

It had been

“Mr. Driesen”

“Oh, we’re married now?”

“In my mind we are”

It had been

“Do you think I should get another ring?”

“Depends. Do you want to be called Mr. Ijzermans?”

It had been

“You’re making croques again? Marry me”

“Okay”

Laughter and kisses always followed. Comfort in agreeing a million different ways was always found. But a concrete, tangible answer was never there.

Robbe understood now why Sander had seemed hesitant and unsure with all this talk of the universe and decisions. They’d been together for more than two years now yet they hadn’t really made official plans for marriage. They were still studying in uni which meant of course, they’d wait until after, but it was never a conversation that lasted very long. While Robbe had talked about all his theories, Sander had made sure to tell him that he’d choose him in every universe. But sometimes it seemed he became overwhelmed with that many versions of them and he didn’t want to think of a world where they might not choose each other every day. Robbe shifted his legs carefully and placed a hand on Sander’s knee, feeling the fabric of his shorts cling in the heat. A signal, a sign, a plea to carry on. They could both feel a nervousness set in, their hearts fluttering in this fleeting moment.

Sander sighed.

“Robbe Ijzermans” he said. “Will you marry m-“

He didn’t even get to utter the question before Robbe turned around, took his face in his hands and connected their lips together in an open-mouthed kiss.

 When someone makes a decision, the universe splits itself.

 Sander had a lot of time the past couple of years to think of this. Robbe loved to talk about the multiverse theory, the parallel universes, and the alternate dimensions. He talked his ear off about how each can be so different and in one he’d find himself being a skater or a gamer, in another he’d find himself studying anthropology, and in another he may even have gone to an elite school. Or more so maybe he could’ve been the one studying art instead. Or how he could be in one where he didn’t meet his friends, in one where he didn’t have to miss his mama so much growing up, or one where his dad made different choices. Choices. Decisions. It always came back to that. If we all made different decisions, life could’ve been very different, Robbe had said. And once we make a decision, there are two worlds, one where you chose one thing, another where you chose different.

Whether Sander wanted to admit it or not, that scared him a lot. It scared him to think there could be a world where he continued on with Britt or worse, one where he hadn’t met Robbe. And with each decision solidifying closer and closer a world where Sander and Robbe stay together, he had wondered if living in this universe was enough. If not thinking of the other worlds and staying here together was enough. 

Robbe had soothed his worries, tapped the worry lines on his forehead, kissed his temple and had run fingers softly through his auburn hair. He had reminded him of his own theories of life becoming what you choose to make of it. He had reminded him that they were together in this universe.

But nothing was reminding him of that fact more than this kiss they were now sharing.

Sander’s fingers tangled in Robbe’s hair, now a bit longer and fluffier, his mouth softly tracing unspoken words into his lips. He felt Robbe’s hands slide from his face to his neck to grip his black t-shirt and pull them up as they both rose to their knees, a more comfortable position than before. They both let each other fill their lungs up in this hot, searing kiss, somehow both passionate and gentle. Sander breathed out as he broke apart first.

“Will you?” he teased.

“Yes,” Robbe pulled him in for another kiss. “Yes.”

And just like that a decision was made, a world was created.

Sander broke the kiss again.

“I don’t have a ring for you,” he smirked.

“I don’t care,” Robbe’s mouth etched up as he drew closer, searching his lips. Both of their eyes twinkled in an enticing, tantalizing manner. Instead Sander leaned back and smiled, standing up to get his ring from the dresser.

“Here,” he slipped it onto Robbe’s slender finger.

“Thank you. It doesn’t fit,” he snorted because sure enough, it was a little loose and sliding off his hand. This proposal was far from the real thing Sander had planned, especially since they were still students, struggling to keep afloat in the midst of studies and spending time together, but this moment was finally real.

As Sander took back the ring and slid it on his own hand, Robbe asked,

“Did you really paint the universe on my back?”

Right. He’d almost forgotten what prompted him to think about their future together in the first place.

“Come,” he tilted his head in the direction of the bathroom in the hall. He took Robbe’s hands and lead him to the mirror where he turned him around and showed him.

It was a galaxy of stars and sparkles, colours of blacks, dark purples, greens, pinks and blues all mixed into a combination of an ethereal light. It was everything Sander had been thinking about with Robbe. His fears, his doubts, his joy, his love.

“In every universe, right?” Sander entwined his fingers with Robbe as they both stared at his back in the reflection. Robbe took the time to stare at it a while longer.

“Yeah,” he said. Then he looked at Sander with dark, dilated eyes, squeezing his hand. “But especially in this universe, too.”

[elftwink]

i know i said i would take a few weeks but i’m almost done htn lol yesterday one of my classes was delayed by like 20 mins after i already got there over half an hour early so i banged out a couple hundred pages then (side note i always forget how fun it is to read that much in a day, but also if i keep doing it i’m going to run out of books to read during my commute). i think i have a chapter or two left? maybe less if there’s stuff at the back after the story like in gtn. anyway some thots under the cut. spoilers obvs

i am a LITTLE annoyed at myself bc i was gonna post about a couple theories i had but i just kept reading and now you all just have to take me at my word that i was right about some stuff (what happened to gideon and harrow’s brain surgery that she did on herself fwiw) but anyway. gideon is back at least temporarily and omg i missed her so much. i’m like RIGHT in the middle of the final battle (confrontation? both?) so i have no idea if she makes it through... intact but i missed the quips

in general i would say that i enjoyed reading gtn a little more (i like gideon’s internal commentary quite a bit and the second person perspective, although BEAUTIFULLY used holy shit, took me awhile to adjust to), i think htn is... not better written per se but more artfully constructed [i guess??]. i think i’m almost more excited to do a reread than i am to actually finish because then i can go back over and see the big picture because htn is very good at showing you only a little bit but also making you feel like you can figure out what’s going on if you pay enough attention (you can’t, i don’t think, not all of it; harrow never has enough information at her disposal). every time things are revealed it feels like another puzzle piece snapping into place and it’s all so intentional that even when i think i don’t particularly care for an element it always ends up making total sense and being incredibly well suited to the story. 

anyway like i said i’m not done done yet and so the final resolution and explanation of everything escapes me still so this is more me rambling than anything else but iirc when the fourth kids died in gtn the writing on the wall that gideon saw was at least the same font as all the notes to harrow in this one so. i think maybe i’m just not keeping very good track of who is in what body at any given time but at that point it was just cytherea in disguise killing people. we knew she killed fifth the first time (magnus or abigail said so when harrow asked), and afaik the sleeper [cant remember her name because she had like. several? wake me up inside? though that might have been someone else. i’m always getting names mixed up. good grief. anyway] really only exists in harrow’s fake memories at the moment (well, i think she is tied to the two handed longsword. was? you can really tell i’m gonna need to do a reread to have any coherent thoughts about this all lmao) sooooo. i don’t know where i’m going with this i feel like i can’t draw conclusions without like taking notes on it all but ive connected the dots. ive connected them. what is the picture that i’m connecting the dots for? i don’t fucking know i’m just connecting them

it is imo just very fun to talk about these books and try to predict what’s going to happen next because i always guess enough that i feel self satisfied but am missing enough that every reveal still gets me. muir is an excellent author i will say that much. anyway i have class now and i’ll probably be done htn before the day is out so expect another long ass post about it lol

[honsoolie]

don’t rush | 02

pairing: Yoongi/reader

genre: slight enemies to lovers, college au, fluff, eventual smut, classical pianist!yoongi, violinist!reader, they’re both actually really into each other but won’t admit it

warnings (for this chapter only): mentions of stage fright/performance anxiety, swearing, sexual references, slight angst, dad jokes :|  

words: 6k 

rating: +18

summary: You know, when Min Yoongi’s face isn’t screwed into an accusatory scowl, he looks exactly like the kind of guy you’d have no trouble falling in love with. Or, the conservatory au where Yoongi helps you get over your stage fright. In more ways than one.

a/n: didn’t plan to take this long for an update, life gets in the way, you know the drill. read 01 here and as always, this is crossposted to ao3 :) 

When you get inside, the warmth welcomes you in. You’re not quite sure if it’s from the heating in the hallway or how Yoongi’s eyes had shone in the moonlight. You lean against the inner door frame, a happy smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, legs a little weak in the knee. You feel light-headed, maybe from being up late, maybe from your exhausting day, maybe from the lingering remnants of Yoongi’s cologne. 

Did that really just happen? Did he really just ask for your number? Was this all a dream?

The euphoria is short-lasting, however. You still have some assignments waiting for you, and only a couple hours left until your morning classes. The tiredness never lets up, and your limbs heavy again as you make your way inside the lobby of your dorm.  

Unknown number (2:47am): hi this is yoongi 

Unknown number (2:47am): did you get inside ok? 

You (2:48am): yeah

You (2:48am): did u? 

  Yoongi (2:50am): im walking back now 

Yoongi (2:50am): you should sleep soon :// 

  You (2:51am): I still have hw :( 

You (2:51am): text me when ur back inside too 

  Yoongi (2:53am): lmaoo is it counterpoint hw 

Yoongi (2:54am): it’s so sweet that you care for my safety ;( 

  You (2:54am): yes sadly 

You (2:55am): ofc I care, we can’t have our amazing star pianist get hurt 

  Yoongi (2:55am): im home now

Yoongi (2:58am): you have a thing for praise, don’t you 

Even though you can’t see him, you splutter alone in your room, roommate fast asleep. There is no way that means what you think it means. 

You (3:00am): idk where u got that from 

You (3:03am): maybe i do, you’ll have to find out 

  Yoongi (3:04am): I would, but you have to finish your analysis worksheet :/ 

  You (3:15am): ugh, fuck it

You (3:15am): im going to sleep 

You (3:15am): ill just wake up early tomorrow to finish it before class 

  Yoongi (3:16am): what? No goodnight? >:( 

Yoongi (3:17am): some manners you have 

Yoongi (3:17am): what a rude girl 

  You (3:18am): aw have i been bad? 

You (3:18am): I’m sooooo sorry 

You (3:19am): gn 

The minutes tick by, and you grow more indignant than you should. Is he serious? 

Who doesn’t say goodnight back? Maybe you scared him off. Maybe all this “flirtatious” banter was just how Yoongi talked to his friends. How would you know? You don’t know anything about him. 

The same insidious doubt creeps back in. Maybe this is all a game to him. Maybe he just wanted to introduce himself to another music student in the department, you all were supposed to know each other anyway. Maybe, worst of all, he had really only meant to wake you up in the music building as a simple courtesy, no intent behind it. You groan as you sink into your bed, cradling your head in your hands. 

You (3:27am): some hypocrite you are 

  Yoongi (3:30am): I was in the showerrr relax 

Yoongi (3:31am): hm you have been bad 

Yoongi (3:33am): maybe I should punish you 

  You (3:29am): u wish 

You (3:30am): but goodnight for real, we have class in five hours :”( 

  Yoongi (3:31am): goodnight

Yoongi (3:31am): save me a spot next to you 

~

You were in the world’s smallest big crisis. 

Was Yoongi actually serious when he asked you to save a seat? Or were you just indulging in wishful thinking? Was he flirting with you last night? And if he was, what are you supposed to do now? 

Whatever he meant, you would have to face him now. 

The endless litany of maybes and what-ifs grows louder in your head, even louder than last night during your text correspondence with him.You elect to use your backpack to save the seat next to you as class time draws nearer, chiding yourself for overthinking something so casual, but it does nothing to soothe your existential anxiety. 

“Thanks for saving me a spot, I’m so glad you remembered.” A voice brings you out of your reverie. It takes a moment to register who it is at first. Your eyes meet the traditional college garb first, sweatpants and an overwashed fundraising t-shirt, then the half-tamed cowlick, that ever-present cup of coffee. Your breath catches in your throat, breathtaking despite the casual circumstances. It’s just another class lecture, you chastise yourself, but your gut twists nonetheless. 

Seeing Yoongi in such close quarters is still an adjustment for you, his presence (or even the thought of being close to him) a shock to your body. You had spent so much time languishing after him that even now, it still feels like waking up into a dream. 

You clear your throat, stalling, “Yeah, putting my backpack in the seat next to mine was sooo hard. You should compensate me for my labor.” 

You try to put on the flirty smile that you were wearing last night, but it feels like a grimace. God, you are way too nervous for this. 

You realize you’ll never get tired of the way he laughs at your shitty jokes, the way his shoulders shake and eyes crinkle at the corners. 

“Yeah, I will, don’t you worry about that.” He sinks into the seat next to you and doesn’t spare you a second glance. 

Dr. Won walks in, the picture of put-togetherness, killing whatever flirty response you had formulated. 

You thought you had enjoyed having a crush before, but admiring someone and imagining a life together from afar was worlds away from talking and sitting next to said object of affection. This shouldn’t be that big of a deal. You shouldn’t be tripping all over yourself when Yoongi sits next to you in lecture. 

Whatever Dr. Won is saying is drowned out by Yoongi sitting next to you. It feels deeply unfair how he affects you, when he gets to sit next to you like nothing important is happening. It’s just another day in lecture, preparing for the midterms coming up. 

He’s not even doing anything, minding his own business. You shouldn’t be swooning when he is just sitting there, again bouncing his leg, taking diligent notes. From the furtive glances you steal, even his handwriting is attractive. Endearing, even if it was a little messy and looping over the printed lines.

~

True fact: the only reason why Yoongi fidgets so much is because of the effect you had on him. It drives him up the wall, the way you keep tucking your hair behind your ear. He envies your unfaltering concentration, the look in your eye when you see something on the Powerpoint slides that you have to jot down. 

Yoongi can’t stand to silently sit next to you without doing anything anymore. Taking his pen, he scrawls on the corner of your neat notes. He knows it’ll piss you off, but that’s the reaction that he wants. 

  do you have any idea what is going on 

  He watches carefully for your reaction. Satisfaction creeps into his neutral expression when you notice, confusion turning into what could only be a lovestruck smile, and then into an irritated grimace. Fuck, even the curve of your wrist was enough to drive him crazy. You pick up your pen, writing back. 

  No, stop writing on my stuff 

  Okay, new plan, Yoongi concedes. He settles for writing on the corner of his own notes, tearing off the corner. He slips the paper into your lap, fingertips skimming the top of your thigh. He doesn’t notice, but he leaves a trail of goosebumps in his wake. 

  don’t you think dr. won dresses like an old hag 

  You write back on the scrap of paper: 

actually you could learn a thing or two from her 

  Yoongi smirks, in classic Yoongi fashion. 

You know I would rock a long skirt like her 

  Yoongi watches you read his message, smile, and then tuck the note into your notebook. 

~

After class, Dr. Won reminds everyone of the midterm coming up two weeks from now, and that’s when Yoongi senses an opportunity. The two of you walk out of class together, forced to walk side by side because of the student foot traffic.

“Do you like, want to study together sometime?” Yoongi blurts out, louder than he needs to be, even among the hum of the other students. 

 He clears his throat. “I mean, we’ve shared a lot of classes, so.” 

You can’t help but laugh in surprise, or maybe incredulousness. You resist the urge to let the satisfaction show on your face. “I didn’t know you ever noticed.” 

“Of course I did. You’re like, the biggest nerd on the planet.” Even when Yoongi is teasing you, he can’t help but sound bashful. 

You gasp in mock offense. “There’s nothing wrong with being a nerd.” You both stop, standing at the mouth of the lecture hall. 

“Of course not.” He’s awfully close to you, close enough that you can see the mole on the tip of his nose. “That’s why I’m asking you to be my study buddy.”

It’s not necessary to be standing this close. Sure, the hallway is busy, but not that busy. 

“Study buddy? That sounds lame.” You scoff, playing hard to get. Both you and Yoongi know you’re going to say yes anyway. 

“What else do you want me to call you? My homework homie?” 

“Uh, yeah . That sounds way better than study buddy. ” You’re more proud of your humor than anything else, even if it earns a deserved eye-roll from Yoongi. 

“And midterms are coming up. So you know, mutually beneficial.” Yoongi takes a sip from his coffee, peering at you from behind the rim.   

“Like… friends with benefits?” You can’t help yourself. It’s just too easy to flirt with him. 

Yoongi tongues his cheek, he grins. “Only if you want it to be.” He’s having way too much fun with this. 

You try to hide your reaction, but Yoongi notices anyway. (He notices a lot of things you don’t realize.) Your wide-eyed shock, the blush that’s flushing down your neck, the way you open your mouth as if to say something equally as flirtatious back, your laugh, like this is actually way more casual than it is. 

“So I’ll take that as a yes,” He says. You could get used to the playful lilt in his voice. 

“Only if you promise you won’t just copy my work.” You cross your arms in front of your chest, suddenly very aware of how tall he is. 

“I live and die by the honor code, y/n. Of course I won’t,” Yoongi says, leaning ever closer to you in the cramped hallway. 

You quirk an eyebrow. “Does a man of honor text me like you did last night?” 

“Oh come on. If you’re going to be friends with me you’re going to have to learn to laugh at dirty humor.” Friends? It’s a start, at least. 

“Who said that I didn’t like dirty humor?” 

“Hmm, I did.” There’s a glint in his eyes that wasn't there before. “You’d have to be a woman of your word and show me.” 

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” You flash an innocent smile, like you don’t see the implication of what he’s saying. 

~

Tuesdays have always been the most bittersweet day of the week for you. It’s lesson day, but oh, it’s lesson day. It feels like the day of judgement, every single week. It’s a culmination of all the blood and tears that you’ve poured into your music in the past week, another chance at evaluation. You’ve known your violin teacher longer than you’ve been in college, and it still shouldn’t scare you this much.

The nervousness spins and dips in your chest as you make your way up the winding stairs that lead to the music building. You usually soothe the apprehension by reminding yourself of all the things you’ve done to prepare, just like you usually do before you go out on stage. This week you were supposed to get the rest of the Bach partita memorized and cleaned up, but it still resides in your memory as disjointed bits and pieces of what it’s actually supposed to sound like. You try to run through the parts that you were stuck on last night, but you draw a blank. You usually don’t take this long to commit pieces to memory, but when you open up your score, all you can think about is the unmoving stare of the audience. Seeing your life flash before your eyes every time you stare at your pencil markings isn’t exactly conducive to productive practice sessions. 

As you retrieve your violin from your locker and make your way to the practice room, you feel like you’re preparing yourself for your own undoing—every scale, every tick of the metronome—another step towards your demise. 

It shouldn’t be this serious, but the pitter-pattering of your heart says otherwise. You glance at the clock. It’s time. You pack up now, so you have a couple extra minutes to wait solemnly outside of her office, staring at the posters that advertise the professionals who come to perform concerts at your college. Next week, a pianist and violinist duo is coming. In the picture, they’re smiling proudly next to a Steinway piano. They look proud of themselves. They probably don’t feel like they’re allergic to the stage, probably live for the audience’s applause. That’s probably how they ended up there on the poster, after all. 

Your violin teacher isn’t scary. She’s a homey, lovely old woman whose wrinkles come from a lifetime of smiling. She’s the type to bring you sweet, homemade pastries that are almost as warm as her hugs during the toughest parts of the semester. Which makes the moments when she’s unhappy all the more painful. It’s not her fear that plagues you, but disappointment. 

The door clicks open, and you have no more time to ponder your failures as a musician. You gather your things and head inside. Nothing inside her office has changed since the previous week. The same teetering stack of well-loved method books sits on her chair, the same humidifier whirring steadily in the corner, the same Dr. Kim Hyung-Seo sitting on the piano bench. 

“Good afternoon, y/n! How’s the Bach coming along?” She asks, like you haven’t spent the past week treating this piece like your mortal enemy. She takes a sip of her warm chamomile tea, from the same snowman-shaped mug that she’s used every week, because she is that endearing. In another life, she would probably be your grandmother. 

“Good morning. Ah, you know…” You trail off and gesture into the air, trying to hide your grimace. How could you possibly describe the unease and unsureness around performing without crossing some kind of professional boundary? 

“Let’s hear it, it’s okay. Are you all warmed up?” You nod as you unpack your things again. As you move to put the Bach score on the music stand, she tuts. 

“Didn’t we agree that this would be memorized last week?” Dr. Kim flips through her lesson notes, inky blue scrawling over the pages. “Yeah, it should be memorized. Close the score, darling.” Usually, when Dr. Kim calls you darling, warmth unfurls in your chest and you beam. You’re not feeling particularly warm right now. 

“Ah, okay…” With slow reluctance, you close the score, the plain paper cover mocking you. You lift your bow to your violin, and shut your eyes. You don’t want to watch this. 

~

Yoongi (4:38pm): Hey 

Yoongi (4:38pm): wanna study tonight :] 

If there’s anything Yoongi is good at, it’s having perfect timing. You half-walk, half-run out of the music building, sucking frigid air into your lungs. The cold weather seems to force the tears back into your eyes. If there was ever a worst-case scenario for how a lesson could go, then that was what just played out in the music room. 

Shutting your eyes won’t stop the barrage of images, playing the world’s cruelest slideshow behind your eyelids. Your teacher’s pursed lips, the still fingers clasped over her mug, the pinched brow. 

“y/n, we don’t have much more time to clean it up…” Her words echo in your head. “We’ll try again next week…” The disappointment was the worst thing, the downward tone in her voice. “I expected better…” 

You (5:15pm): maybe 

You (5:15pm): what time? 

  Yoongi (5:20pm): like now 

Yoongi (5:23pm): are you busy? 

  You (5:25pm): no I just finished up a lesson 

You (5:26pm): i’m about to study in the library if you want to join me 

  Yoongi (5:30pm): I don’t want to go to the library :( 

  You (5:31pm): why not 

  Yoongi (5:32pm): if I feed you dinner will you come to my apartment 

Yoongi (5:33pm): I really don’t want to walk to the library it’s too damn cold 

  After all, the best way to a woman's heart is through her stomach.

  You (5:35pm): fine 

You (5:35pm): it better be a hell of a dinner 

  Yoongi (5:36pm): of course it will 

Yoongi sends you his location, and you’re walking as fast as you can through the campus to make it to his apartment before you can freeze your fingers off. 

~

Yoongi’s expression is nothing short of scandalized when you show up at his door. It’s a typical mouse hole apartment, his front door identical to all the other ones that you’d passed to get here. 

“You’re not wearing gloves? In this weather?” 

“I don’t have any…” You rasp out. You’re tired. Your throat hurts from trying to hold tears back during your entire lesson, and you have no spirit left to give Yoongi an innuendo-laced comeback. 

I expected better. 

“Oh my god, you’ve been playing violin for how many years and nobody ever told you to wear gloves when it’s cold?” He leads you inside, the warmth abating the cold that’s wormed its way underneath your clothes and into your bones. 

“For God’s sake, y/n, hasn’t anyone ever told you about the importance of blood circulation?” Yoongi clasps your hands between his, rubbing and blowing air on them to warm them up. He doesn’t notice your surprise amid his chastising, muttering something about common sense. You don’t try to keep your guard up this time, just trying to bite tears back at the mention of musicianship. The firm press of his hands grounds you. 

“There.” He smiles, proud of himself. “Warm now?” 

Oh yeah, you’re definitely warm. In every dimension of the word. But you don’t tell him that, so you settle for a weak nod. 

“You can put your stuff there. I’m hungry now, let’s eat first?” You hum in affirmation as you settle your heavy backpack on his cramped couch. 

It turns out that Min Yoongi’s idea of gourmet cooking is heating up two freezer-burnt Hot Pockets while you watch him putter around the tiny kitchenette. This is the first time you’ve ever seen him without his glasses, and this is when you finally internalize that Yoongi will always look good no matter what he does or wears or says. 

“You made it seem like you were cooking,” You say, just to fill the silence. 

“Uhhhh, I don’t know who told you I was capable of cooking, but they were wrong. I can show you a good time in other ways, no?” 

You snort. 

In hopes of saving time, he microwaves both of Hot Pockets at the same time. You silently bristle at the fact that even your dinner is getting more action than you are these days. 

You and Yoongi eat together in his tiny living room, sitting on mismatched stools.  

“How did your lesson go?” Yoongi says, more focused on eating than on you. 

“Oh…” You set your Hot Pocket down, sighing in defeat. The image of Dr. Kim sitting behind the piano bench, her dissatisfaction like a noxious cloud. “I… I…  got ripped apart. I’m a little behind with preparing for the Bach festival, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing I do or prepare will make me less stressed about it.” You slump onto the counter, recounting all the things you did wrong in your lesson today. I expected better. 

“What’s the stress about? We still have over a month, right?” You’re suddenly jealous of Yoongi. His nonchalance, his seemingly constant reassurance that everything is going to be okay. 

“I’m not worried about that… just, no matter how much I practice, I’m gonna fuck it up on stage.” Your forehead pinches in frustration. 

“Are you that nervous?” 

“I’ve always been this nervous. For any performance. I haven’t performed alone in a while… and you know. It’s Bach, and everyone expects me to do some amazing job, and it’s like, I don’t know if I can deliver that and-” Yoongi eases his hand on your shoulder, calm, reassuring. He looks concerned. Like he cares. Like a friend. 

“When was the last time you played something just for the fun of it?”

“I don’t know, maybe my freshman year? I used to arrange themes from movies.” 

“We should work on something together, just for fun. We’re such a perfect instrument combo, there’s so much repertoire for violin and piano.” 

“What did you have in mind? Do you even have enough time for that?” (You know you don’t have enough time for that.) 

“It doesn’t even have to be a difficult piece. It could be something easy or hard, I don’t care.” Yoongi ponders his next words over a bite of his food. “I… I... just want to see you less stressed out. And music should always be fun, not just for a grade. What kind of music would you be making if you weren’t happy?” 

“I don’t know…” 

“I know this one Brahms piece that I think you’d like. Totally fits your vibe. We can just work on it slowly, you know? Or we could arrange the Anpanman theme song, I don’t care.” 

~

“I think I’m mostly good for the midterm, except for the composer dates,” Yoongi spins around in his office chair, dragging his feet on the ground. 

“Me too,” You say, as you drink in the sight of his room. For someone who claims to abhor studying and all things academic, Yoongi appears to be quite the organized student. Despite the constant claim that his education is merely a necessary evil, he keeps his notes organized in uniform binders on a well-cared for bookshelf. The bookshelf is adjacent to the extremely detailed wall calendar, marked full with due dates and deadlines in pens of various colors. 

He runs his fingers over the binders to locate the binder allocated to the species counterpoint class you’re taking together. 

“I already have flashcards for everything before the Romantic Era, but I’m so fucked for everything else.” 

“Why not just use Quizlet like everyone else?” You say. You eye his neatly made bed and the Kumamon stuffed animal shoved hastily underneath it. 

“Back in my day, we used flashcards like cavemen,” Yoongi reasons, despite the fact that your birthdays are months within each other. “And besides, they feel better in your hand.” Of course, they’re indexed by color and musical era. 

~

“Ugh, I hate sitting at my desk. My back is starting to hurt,” Yoongi says, despite having worked for about ten minutes. “Do you want to lay down?” He pats the fluffy comforter adjacent to him. Yoongi doesn’t wait for your response however, plopping down on the bed with an audible thump. 

“Okay, old man,” You jibe, but you’ve also been sitting for a majority of the day. Your back is aching too, but you’ll never admit it to him. 

Sometimes, at times like these, you wish you could just muster up the courage and stop playing this game of cat and mouse with him. When you lay on his sheets that smell like him, quizzing each other, you wonder what would happen if you confessed your feelings for him, right then and there. 

Or outlined exactly how exactly you would take his cock in your mouth, given the chance. Other times, you consider the fact that he might like to play with his food before diving in. Whatever it was, it scared you, the unease climbing up your spine and staying put. 

You wonder if he understands the implication of you so casually lounging on his bed, but then you realize that you likely don’t exist in the realm of romantic possibilities for him. He likely sees you as the nerdy, sexless violinist that spends all her time slaving away in the practice room or the library. That’s why you’re here, after all. To help study for the midterms coming up. “Being friends with him is better than nothing,” you tell yourself, but you can’t really bring yourself to believe it. 

You don’t remember, or at least don’t care to, when Yoongi started touching every aspect of your life. It’s really only been a couple of weeks since the two of you started studying together. You don’t dare to imagine how much of your thoughts he would occupy if you continue your friendship into the coming months. If your crush of massive proportions was bad before, it’s truly out of hand now. It certainly didn’t help that he actually knew you existed now. He spammed you gifs of baby animals while he was on the way to class, texted you links to performances of pieces that he was working on. He even began to send you teasing texts on the mornings that he made it to the practice rooms before you. 

Every experience you have is colored by thoughts of him. The coffee that you drink like ambrosia conjures up images of him sitting across from you in some far-off sunlit cafe, laughing at all your jokes. On the nights when sleep escapes  you, you lay awake rehashing over and over what you had said to him on the previous day. You even fall into reveries when he’s sitting there right next to you. 

 It’s inescapable, especially with the Bach Festival looming over your head. The more time you spend in the practice room, the more you go back to that one fateful night. You can still see the image of him now, sitting before the piano, playing Chopsticks. 

You both make your way through the fat deck of flashcards, Yoongi quizzing you first. 

“J.S. Bach?” You note to yourself even the upswing in his voice was cute. How did you ever let yourself get so whipped?

“1685 to…” You falter, still stuck on his voice. Even his voice drives you crazy. 

“Come on, you should know this.” He drives his point home by poking you in the side, and he likes the gasp that you make. 

“1750.” Of course you know Bach’s birth and death dates by heart. You see it every time you open up your score. Even the scant prod he gave you in the side, over your clothes, is enough to make your skin heat up. 

“And if you ever tickle me again, you won’t live long enough for midterms,” You threaten, but your harsh tone of voice doesn’t reach the light in your eyes. 

“Brahms?” 

“Ugh, fuck, I don’t know. 1832 to?” 

“Wrong.” He sets the cards down next to him, looking at you in mock disappointment. In an instant, he attacks you with tickles, and your efforts to bat him away are fruitless. 

“This-this is what you get for not knowing when Brahms was born! Learn through punishment! 1833 to 1897, remember that next time!!” He collapses on top of you, burying his face in your neck, unrelenting. Yoongi sounds almost gleeful in your torture. 

You writhe under his touch, and for all the wrong reasons. 

For the first time in your life, you’re almost glad you’re ticklish. Your eyes roll back into your head, not of your own accord. It’s too much, the soft skin of his cheek pressed up against your neck, the warm weight of his body against yours, the way his legs cage you in. A moan slips in between your helpless giggles, and Yoongi doesn’t miss it. 

“Uhhh, what was that?” He doesn’t stop, merciless in his advance. “I didn’t know you liked tickling… like that.” He’s teasing you, now. He can’t hide his pleased grin. 

Between gasps, you manage to pant, “I… don’t…” 

“Then what? Tell me.” That’s when Yoongi relents, leaning back. He continues to straddle you, because he’s cruel like that. (And because he likes it too.)

“You’re just… ugh, I don’t know… so close.” In Yoongi’s eyes, you’re a study in debauchery. From your struggle, your hair is mussed, the hem of your shirt awry. Your cheeks are flushed, from embarrassment or from the tickling, you don’t know. Your chest frantically rises and falls, trying to regain your breath. 

You, on the other hand, feel fucking ridiculous. Contrary to popular belief, being on the recieving end of tickling is fucking physically exhausting. 

Yoongi is stuck on the hot and bothered look on your face, except for the hard look in your eye. You despise being tickled, even if it is Min Yoongi doing the tickling. He wonders what you’d look like if you were underneath him in… different circumstances. 

Would it compare? 

“I… I… I just…” You avert your gaze now, hiding your face behind your hands. You can’t stand to look at him right now. 

“Spill it, or I’ll go back to tickling you until you break.” He grabs your hands away from your face, pinning them next to your head. 

He really isn’t going to make this easy for you, is he. 

This is overwhelming. The eye contact is too much. The weight of his hands on your wrists, holding you down, is too much. The way his panting breath tickles the skin beneath your collar is too much. You’ve had a bad day, the voice in the back of your head whispers. He makes you forget how awful this semester has been. He makes you feel better. Make this day easier on yourself. Just give in. 

There’s no hiding it now, you concede. 

You shut your eyes, unable to face him. “It’s just… been a while.” 

“Uh-huh. Continue?” He places his hands back on your stomach, as if in warning. 

“Since uhhhh… I’ve done… anything… with anyone…” Your words hang heavy in the air. Your secret is out. 

He laughs. He really has the audacity to laugh. 

“Shut up! I’m just like, touch starved, okay?” You’re definitely just blushing out of embarrassment, at this point. 

Yoongi starts to ponder if he crossed too far of a line, but you continue anyway.  You huff, indignant and desperate to cover your ass. This is not how you ever imagined telling Yoongi you were ever interested in him, sexual or not. 

“Not everyone is like, the campus pussy magnet and gets to fuck whenever they want,” You say. 

He rolls his eyes. “Okay, I’m not the campus pussy magnet. We’re... not so different. I haven’t been with anyone, um, in a while.” Now Yoongi takes his turn to blush and stutter. He does that thing he always does when he’s nervous, runs a hand through his hair and lets it rest on the nape of his neck.  

“I find that hard to believe. No need to lie out of pity. Like, come on. Look at you. You’re all…” You gesture down his body, “And you have that whole vibe going on, and you’re tall, and you have good taste in cologne, and-and-and you play the piano , and ugh. You should know that by now.” You babble on. You’re not that good at keeping secrets, anyway. Might as well let the cat out of the bag while you’re at it. 

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, but you’re not fazed. By now, you’re used to the long silences that elapse when you’re with him. You wait for him to talk first, just so you can discreetly enjoy the feeling of him straddling you for a little longer. You try to pass off the silence as you quietly fuming at him for calling out your lackluster sex life, but you’re really just trying get yourself together. 

Then he starts laughing. Again.  

“What are you laughing for now?” Your brow furrows in frustration. 

“Nothing, nothing, don’t be mad. I just didn’t think that tickling would be a turn on for you.” 

“It’s not!” 

“To be completely honest with you, you look like one of those really innocent soft girls on the outside but you’re actually like, into choking and have a secret sex dungeon.” He doesn’t seem to care that you’ve all but revealed your massive, terminal crush on him. 

You sigh, but you’re just glad he gave you something to fire back with. 

“You and I both know that the university dorms are too small for a sex dungeon, Yoongi. I can’t even have candles in my room. What sex dungeon is complete without candles?” 

“Oh, a devil in the details. The ambiance is important, I see…” That devious smile of his makes a comeback. 

“Oh, shut up. Give me the flashcards, four-eyes.” He relinquishes the flashcards, but he still continues to straddle you. 

“Woah, there’s no need to insult my glasses.”

You ignore him, desperate to move on from your momentary lapse in judgement. “Haydn?”

“1732 to 1809. What about music? Music must be important if you care about the ambiance. Answer my question.” 

You laugh to cover up how worked up you are. “Maybe you can find out after we finish reviewing. Scarlatti?” 

“1660 to 1725. What kind of music do you listen to? R&B, something sexy?” He sits up now, spurred on by your refusal to answer his questions. 

“Or do you listen to classical music then, too? Does Chopin get your blood flowing?” He’s being insufferable now.

You groan into the pillow. “Yoongiii, let’s focus.” 

“If it’s something like Liszt, I’m sure I have a couple recommendations.” 

Yoongi sits up straighter, waggles his eyebrows in a way you definitely shouldn’t find endearing. “Or, I could record something for you…” 

You snap. “Just, I don’t know, sometimes I listen to music?” Your attempts to stop the blushing are in vain, heat blooming across your cheeks and down your neck. It’s even harder to stop when it’s your embarrassingly short sexual history on the line. 

“I prefer dirty talk anyways…” You murmur under your breath, wishing he could just get the fuck off your case. The more he keeps talking about things like this, in that tone of voice, the harder it’s going to get to keep your ever-growing crush a secret. 

Still, some small part (let’s be honest, the monkey brain part of you) of you, the part of you that aches for him, wants to spur him on. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing! Nothing.” 

“Hmm… something about dirty talk?” Fuck, does Yoongi have a good ear. He smiles. He knows he’s gotten you now. 

Okay, you should probably admit to yourself that he’s flirting with you now. The touches, the holding you down, the insistence on pushing this tiny matter, it all adds up. And the math says that Min Yoongi is flirting with you. 

“Mmm, nothing.” You snuggle a little deeper into his bedsheets, playing coy.

“You know, like during sex? Don’t make me tickle you again, because I will stoop that low.” 

“I don’t remember saying that…” You mock-pretend to ponder his question, catch your bottom lip between your teeth. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his gaze fall downward. You know you’ve gotten him now. 

“Can you refresh my memory?” 

“Like… you know.” He shrugs. 

“I’m an auditory learner. Do you have an example?” 

“Hmm, let me think… I’ll tease you until you’re begging for me to touch you properly? Does that ring a bell for you?” 

“No…” You bring your hands to your face to cover up your blush, and because you can’t stand to look at him. Not when he’s talking to you like that, with that look in his eye, his hands on your body. “It doesn’t…” You laugh, even beneath his weight. 

He laughs. “I’m just teasing. You’re so cute when I get a rise out of you.” 

Oh. 

[elevenel55]

Basketball training

Notes: The world need more Billy/Steve tickle fic, don’t you think?? Please forgive any grammar mistake, I’m still trying to learn proper english!  Hope you like it :)

Steve let out a frustrated grunt. He was exhausted. 

<< Oh come on, Pretty Boy, are you even trying? >> 

<< I’m trying really hard not to kill you, you idiot, you should appreciate the effort! >> retorted Steve catching his breath while Billy ran towards the basket and made another goddamn point.

<< You have to concentrate, Stevie. Move faster, think less. >> All I can think about right now is you, sweaty and handsome, on me. 

<< You are so good at thinking less, aren’t you? Sometimes I wonder if you ever think at all... >>

Billy laughed and threw the ball at him, who caught it and started dribbling the orange, heavy ball. He threw the ball to the basket, scoring a point, but free throws were not a problem for him. The problem was trying to obstacolate and stop the wonderful blonde boy who managed every single time to pass through him and fucking score.

A few minutes later it was Billy’s turn to do a few free throws, and Steve was so peeved by the other boy’s remarks and his lack of results that wanted to just leave the court and go smoke a cigarette with Billy.

The blonde dribbled the ball a few times before getting in the right position for a throw, and Steve was right behind him to watch his movements -and his ass-.

Without even thinking he did something he had wanted to do for a while now: he jabbed at Billy’s side, scratching a little the naked skin.

The reaction was hilarious.

Billy jerked away immediatly with a surprised squeak, and the ball didn’t come even close to the basket.

<< Harrington! >> he growled, undignified.

<< What? >> he asked, all innocent and angelic, trying to hide a satisfied smirk. Oh, the training would have been much more fun now.

<< I’m gonna rip your hands, Harrington. >>

<< Sure, sure. Come on, try again, show me how to do that properly. >> Billy shook his head, trying really hard to hide his own smile; he dribbled the ball a little, eyeing Steve who was so damn close to him, and when he lifted his arms to throw the ball Steve’s hands landed on his hips, tickling him like crazy.

<< Hahahaharringtohohn! >> Billy laughed, squirmig so so much, a huge smile spreading.

<< Yes? Tell me, is it necessary to wriggle and giggle that adorable way to score a point? >> he asked teasingly, this time not stopping his tickling but following Billy as he stepped back; the blonde boy was trying to be stoic, and to give Caesar what is Caesar he lasted a few moments before giving in to fully, belly laughing like a maniac.

He didn’t even know he was that fucking ticklish since he was a child the last time someone tried to do that, and had it been anyone but his Pretty Boy he would have broke his bones already; but it was his Pretty Boy, and Steve was smiling so brightly while tearing him apart, and he didn’t even feel ashamed to be laughing like an idiot, squirming like a fish out of water. Moreover, he was kind of enjoying the tickling itself, even if he would have never admitted it aloud.

Steve’s hands were running lightly up and down his sides now, scratching a little bit his skin here and there, and it was driving him insane.

<< Fuhuhuhuhck! Stohohp stohohohp! >> he asked, batting those evil hands away.

Steve finally stopped << This is precious, Billy Hargrove. >> << God, I’m so gonna kill you someday... >> And then, knowing perfectly well what would have happened, they returned to their training; everytime Billy had the ball and tried to move to the basket, Steve would wiggle his fingers against the toned skin of his stomach or would dig into his ribs, and Billy would yelp, laugh and drop the fucking ball every single time. When they were close enough, Steve would run his hand on his stomach, drawing circles there, making him giggle and lose the ball.

<< GOHOOHOHD I HAHATE YOU! >> almost screamed Billy after a good half an hour of that. << There’s no need to call me “God”, you know? “King” is more than acceptable. >> Honestly, Steve was pretty surprised by Billy’s reaction. He had hoped the boy wouldn’t get angry or feel discomfort, but that was so much beyond his excpectations: Billy was clearly having as much fun as he was, and that made him full of joy and pleasure.

That teasing, in addition, was effecting Billy very much, which was fun and kind of exciting at the same time.

With a low growl Billy tried once again to dribble and he started running through the court, this time determined to not let Steve’s goddamn tickling distract him, but when he felt the boy’s fingers on his hips his determination faltered. He gritted his teeth and suppressed a fucking giggle and kept going towards the basket, unable to fully stop squirming because those damn hands were lightly scratching his back and his sides.

<< Oh wow, so stoic. Impressive, Billy Hargrove, very impressive. >> << Suhuht up! >> he ordered not really convincing, and then lifted his arms to throw once more the ball and score another point. The moment he was going to actually launch the orange ball towards the basket though some evil, cruel fingers shottend under his arms and everything was lost.

<< AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH! >> He laughed, the ball already forgotten, clamping his arms down and squirming like never before << NOHOHOHOH STOHOHOP! STOHOHOP! >> << Ask me “please”, and maybe I’ll stop. >> But Billy was now unable to pronounce any word as he just sank to the floor, laughing and laughing while Steve’s fingers dug deeper in his armpits.

<< It’s not that difficult, you know? Just be gentle for once. >> he said, still scratching and scratching while Billy Hargrove was howling with laughter. Billy moved his head side to side and trashed a lot, but never actually tried to stop Steve or grab his hands, and they both knew perfectly well that it would have been incredibly easy for him to do that.

That only encouraged Steve to keep going, moving his hands now up and down his sides, pinching the super sensitive flesh of his stomach, digging between each rib and returning up near his now very well defended armpits.

<< NOOHOHOHOAHAHAAH! PLEAHAHAHAHASEEHEHE STEEHEHEHEHVE! AHAHAHAAHAH! >> << Oh, pleading are we? That’s interesting. I like hear you pleading, you know? Do that again. >>

<< PLEAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHSEEHEHEHAHAHAHAAH! I CHAHAHAHANT! >>

Steve slowed down a bit, scratching gently his skin now, keeping him pinned on the floor << Sooooo, do you give up? >> << Yeheheheheheehehs you fuhuhcking imbecile! I gihihihive, I giihihihihvehehehahahahah! >> Steve tickled him a little more but then stopped, laying down next to Billy, watching him with bright -loving?- eyes.

Billy was completely exhausted, all red in the face, with a huge smile on his face, still squirming on the floor even if the tickle attack had ceased.

<< You are soooo ticklish, Billy Hargrove, that’s amazing. >> << I hate you, Steve Harrington, you know that? >> << Nah, you love me. >> Yes, I do. They just stayed there for a long time, next to each other, both a little aroused and scared and happy.

<< Harrington? >> << Mmh? >> << You know that the moment I catch my breath you are going to be tickled to death, right? >> Not that Steve really tried to runaway then, but it was a little pathetic how fast Billy managed to catch him. Who would have told that? Steve Harrington was amazingly ticklish.

[elo-kodon]

Untitled Iwaoi Short Story #1

(Part 1 here)                             

                                                        PART 2

           “That was such a great dinner, Auntie! I’m completely stuffed, right Iwa-chan?” Oikawa exclaims happily, his voice carrying through the small house in bright, musical tones.

           Iwaizumi receives a short but painful jab to his side with Oikawa’s elbow. The movement almost makes him drop the dinner plate he’s scrubbing into the soapy water. He gives Oikawa a short, annoyed look before responding. “Yes, thanks so much!” he calls out hurriedly.

           “Ohh it was no trouble at all boys,” Oikawa’s aunt says, gracefully gliding down the stairs in her long, summery-red pleated skirt.

           Once Iwaizumi had met Oikawa’s aunt, her sophisticated and bubbly personality was one of the first things he noticed about her. She gave the boys a warm hug, welcomed them in, and immediately turned to Iwaizumi. “Now Iwaizumi dear, let’s do away with the formalities for now. Why don’t you just call me Hisako? Goodness knows all my colleagues already do.” Hisako waved her left hand air in a quick flourish and lead the boys into her house. She showed Oikawa and Iwaizumi to their room upstairs. “I’ll leave you two to unpack for a while. I’ve got to head back downstairs to finish up dinner. Feel free to join me whenever you boys are ready to eat!”

           “She’s great, isn’t she?” Oikawa threw his duffel bag onto the ground, turning back to Iwaizumi proudly, “Mom says she’s a spitfire, but I like her a lot! She’s always been there for me, ya know?”

           Iwaizumi considers Oikawa’s past words as he continues to work on the last of the dinner plates. It’s no surprise that Oikawa would like her. Hisako had a lot of qualities that reminded him of his best friend. Their determined attitudes and boundless energy were practically the same. No wonder Oikawa was so excited to make the trip up here.

           Hisako calls out from the other room. “If you two are about done with the dishes, would you mind meeting me in the living room in a bit? I’d love to show you a few of my designs for the show on Sunday. Tooru, you also need to hear the rundown of the itinerary so you know what to expect.”

           Once the boys get done cleaning up, they join Hisako on her pink and blue floral patterned couch. It’s a cozy fit with all three of them, Hisako on the far left, Iwaizumi on the far right, and Oikawa snugly in the middle.

           Tucking a loose strand her wavy black hair behind her ear, Hisako reaches down to the side of the couch, picks up a thick shiny black binder and hands it to Oikawa to open. He carefully takes the huge binder from her and opens to one of the first tabbed pages.

           “So for this particular show, since it’s still only my second one, I really wanted to focus on kids’ streetwear. I’ve noticed that a lot of students like to have clothing that’s still modern and practical, but also wear things that fit to their own unique sense of style…”

           They spend the next half hour pouring through the thick and colorful pages of Hisako’s designs. Oikawa listens with keen interest as his aunt talks to them about her ideas and underlying concepts with model’s outfit. It seems like with each particular outfit and pattern, Hisako has a wonderful remark or funny story to recount on each model.

           “You see now why I wanted you to join me on this project Oikawa? I really need students with strong personalities, since the show’s main concept is based around stories of youth. So, this is where you come in…”

            Oikawa lounges back while he listens to his aunt talk about what she has planned for his design. He loves hearing about Hisako’s stories and inspiration behind everything, but he can’t help but wonder if Iwaizumi is starting to feel a little left out. Carefully, out of the corner of his eye, he slowly and surreptitiously directs his gaze to Iwaizumi. With Hisako’s voice still in the background, he puts his hearing on autopilot for a few moments while he stares at his best friend.

           Iwaizumi has his knees brought up to his chest, his hands wrapped around them as he gazes down at the sketch of Oikawa’s proposed design for the show. Oikawa’s breath hitches softly as he scans Iwaizumi’s face. There’s a fondness to the boy’s dark eyes, his lips are slightly pursed. It reminds Oikawa of how Iwaizumi used to look at him when they were children. But there’s also something else to it… With a confused realization, it dawns on him. Iwaizumi looks like he’s concentrating on something. Like he’s drinking in the design on Hisako’s drawing, trying to memorize the curve of each pencil marking, of each splotch of color on the roughly sketched pattern. Iwaizumi’s left hand reaches down to feel the small piece of fabric stapled onto the bottom right corner of the page. Oikawa catches his eye once Iwaizumi turns to pretend to look at Hisako.

           Iwaizumi locks the back of his jaw once he realizes Oikawa’s caught him staring. The pair lock eyes for a second. The light brown irises of Oikawa fixate on his own, like a curious tiger pup. Iwaizumi ducks his head down towards his lap, knowing that the heat traveling up his neck and onto his cheeks are definitely noticeable. “Stupid idiot…” he thinks.

           Goosebumps appear on Oikawa arms as he slowly averts his eyes. “Weird…Why did Hajime blush just now?”

           Guess he’d have to tackle that question later.

———————————————————————————————————

                                                       *Saturday*

           “Here you go!” Hisako sings out, beaming down at Iwaizumi and Oikawa, setting down a plate of pancakes and two tall glasses of strawberry-and-kewi smoothies in front of them. “Now, Tooru, dear, just so you know, I’m gonna be out at the office in town for the majority of this afternoon and the evening, so you’ll have to be in charge of making sure this young man,” she gestures to Iwaizumi, “gets fed a good dinner, okay? There’s a nice little market about a few miles still outside of town that you two can drive over to pick up whatever you’d like. I’d make dinner for you both but I need to stay late at the studio tonight so we can finish paperwork and make any last minute adjustments before the show tomorrow.”

           Oikawa nods eagerly and salutes his aunt, “Of course Auntie, you can count on me! Can’t wait to see my outfit in person tomorrow, I bet it’ll make all the girls swoon!”

           Hisako lets out a sparkling laugh, “Oh, I’m sure, Tooru.” She puts her breakfast dish in the sink, walking over to the front door to grab her sweater and her large canvas bag. “Hope you two have fun hanging out today! There’s a great beach nearby that you boys should go to if you have the time. I’ve got to run, take care now!” Iwaizumi and Oikawa hear the final few clacks of her shoes as she shuts the screen door behind her and walks down the steps of the front porch towards her car. They hear her engine start and then she’s off.

           “God, you really are a putz” mutters Iwaizumi, lightly smacking the back of Tooru’s head.

  ��        “Not my fault you don’t know how to talk to women, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says as he attempts to dodge Iwazumi, but ultimately failing.

           Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and gets up from his chair. He didn’t feel like bickering with Oikawa today. He was in too good of a mood, plus he really wanted to go somewhere with Oikawa to play volleyball anyways.

           “Sooooo Iwa-channn what’s on the agenda for today?” Oikawa asks. He stands up from his chair and stretches out his tall torso, his arms almost touching the bottom of the fan in the kitchen.

           “Wanna do a practice match somewhere?”

           “Hmmm. Yes, but I also wanted to check out that beach Auntie mentioned. Not like we really have a beach back home.”

           “Why don’t we do both? We can set up a court once we find a good spot.” Iwaizumi suggested.

           “Ohhh a beach match? You’re on, mothman.”

           Iwaizumi lets out a small, soft “Dumbass” under his breath, then quickly runs up the stairs to grab their duffels, Oikawa slowly following up after him.

———————————————————————————————————-

           Oikawa’s high-pitched falsetto voice pierces Iwaizumi’s ears while he tries to keep concentrating on the winding road in front of him. He sings out another lyric of the weird country song that they happened to discover on the local radio a few minutes ago.

           “Joooooooooooleeeenne, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Puh-LEASE don’t take my maaannn. Even though you totally caaannn-“ Oikawa drawls out in a feminine, old-lady voice, intentionally fucking up the lyrics.

           Iwaizumi lets out another round of loud barking laughter. He forgot how genuinely funny Oikawa can be once he lets his guard down. But that usually only happens when it’s just the two of them together. He scrunches up his eyes, tears of laughter pricking at the outer edges of his eyelids. He’s laughing and smiling so much that his jaw is starting to get sore. “S-stop it you bastard, you’re gonna make me crash this damn car.”

           Oikawa grins over at Iwaizumi, his eyes crinkling at the edges. He turns back forward and smiles quickly to himself. He absolutely loves Iwaizumi’s laugh. The sound never gets old. “Damn, what a stupid song. Who the fuck is Jolene??”

           “I don’t-“ Iwaizumi tries to respond but is stopped by another round of laughter. “I don’t know man, but she’s got some issues apparently. I feel kind of bad for her, honestly.”

           “Eh, not bad enough,” Oikawa grins. “Since when does Japan have American country stations? Is this a new fad or some shit?”

           “I have no idea.”

           “Oh, Iwa-chan, there’s the turn up ahead!” Oikawa says hurriedly, leaning forward in his seat.

           Iwaizumi turns off the main route onto another small, dusty dirt road. As they make a couple more turns, the truck spits up dust.

           “Oh wow, is this sand?” Oikawa tries to squint through the yellowish haze.

           “I guess so. We must be close.”

           They head around a row of trees and then make one final turn. Iwaizumi parks in one of the faded parking spots, then kills the engine. It doesn’t take too long to unpack the bed of the truck. With both duffel bags slung around Iwaizumi and Oikawa carrying the net bag, they walk down a sandy path to the beach below.

           They find a good, flat area of sand and throw down their bags. Iwaizumi sets up the volleyball net while Oikawa takes off his flip flops. He unpacks the volleyballs, water bottles, and snacks.

           “Hey, ‘kawa, the net’s done.”

           “Lit.”

           Iwaizumi throws the net bag down near the duffels and Oikawa takes a couple minutes to mark the edges of each side of the court using a stick. He squints at the line on each side, then runs over to the other side to check the dimensions.

           “It’s fine, Oikawa. Let’s play already.” Iwaizumi drawls.

           “Fine, fine.” Oikawa takes his sunglasses off and perches them neatly in his hair. He picks a light blue volleyball up from the ground and walks onto his side of the court. Iwaizumi’s already on his side, hands on his knees, ready for Oikawa to start. Using only one hand, Oikawa swiftly throws the ball high up in the air. “You know I’m totally gonna win this match, right?”

           Iwaizumi snorts and smirks at Oikawa through the holes of the net. “Not on your life, pretty boy.”

———————————————————————————————————-

           Soaring through the air over the net, the small blue volleyball heads toward Iwaizumi’s side of the court. With the quickness of a puma and the grace of a warrior, the spiky-haired male crouches down and receives the ball. The volleyball bounces back upwards, over Iwaizumi’s head and the boy looks up. He ends up timing the comedown of the ball perfectly, executing a three step approach. Calf muscles tensing, Iwaizumi swings his arms back and jumps up in the air. With a look of fierceness set in his face, eyes gleaming, his right arm whips forward and sends the ball flying straight down towards Oikawa’s side.

           Oikawa dives forward and manages to keep the ball up, but only enough to the point where it flys forward underneath the net. His sunglasses fall down crookedly onto the bridge of his nose. He groans. He almost got a mouthful of sand from this last one.

           Iwaizumi lets out a snicker, “What was that about beating me again?” He grins, watching Oikawa pick his lanky frame up off the sand.

           Dammit. Oikawa was sure his past spike wouldn’t turn into a chance ball, but somehow Iwaizumi managed to receive and turn it into a downward attack. He watches Iwaizumi take off his shirt through the lenses of his sunglasses. Iwaizumi grabs his water bottle and takes a long drink of water, his other hand resting on his hip.

           What a cocky bastard. Oikawa mentally convinces himself that he’s not taking this moment to run his eyes down the frame of Iwaizumi’s body. Nope. Definitely not taking in his wonderful, tan shoulders, and his stocky biceps, and of course that stupid lovely six pack- Wait what the hell? When did Iwa-chan get so buff??  Has he been doing extra strength training on the side or something?

           “Ready to get your ass whooped again, Shittykawa?” calls out Iwaizumi.

           Oikawa dusts the sand off his knees, sweat dripping down his bangs into his face. He takes a few ragged breaths. “You fuckin wish, biiiitttcchh.”

           Iwaizumi is about to make a retort when he notices Oikawa’s fast panting, his chest heaving in and out to try and steady his breathing back to normal. His hair is drenched, his shirt covered in sweat. Oikawa glances down worriedly at the wrap on his knee, reminding Iwaizumi of his past injury. He hastily looks at his watch.

           “On second thought, you look pretty tired, Tooru. It’s getting close to dinnertime anyways. Let’s call it a match and pack up, yeah?”

           Oikawa lets out an annoyed huff but then concedes.

———————————————————————————————————–

           They arrive back home, laughing about another funny joke Oikawa said when they were on the road. Iwaizumi and Oikawa tramp up the porch steps and through the screen door, both letting out relaxed sighs when the air conditioning hits them. They head towards the kitchen counter. Iwaizumi turns around and tosses his water bottle quickly to Oikawa, Oikawa wordlessly catching it in his hand.

           “Take this back up to the room, then we can go to the market and get some food. I’ll make dinner tonight if you want.”

           “Uh…sure Iwa-chan.” He replies, hurrying up the stairs in a daze.

           He sets both he and Iwaizumi’s water bottles on top of the dresser in their room. He takes a minute for himself, grabbing a towel and running it through his locks of hair to get the sweat out. He’s about to head out of the room when his eyes naturally find their gaze to the mirror hanging on the opposite wall. He walks closer to his reflection, placing the towel around his neck.

           Oikawa inspects his appearance in the mirror. Eyebrows knitted together, he turns his face to either side, looking at his cheekbones. His wide, almond shaped brown eyes. His thin lips, still nicely rounded out for a guy’s mouth. He had okay teeth, straight and not too big.

           “Iwa-chan’s still prettier though,” he thought.

           He shakes his head, trying to regain focus. Bounding down the stairs to meet Iwaizumi, he realizes he left his flips flops somewhere in the living room.

           “Almost done Oikawa? I’m starving, we should head out now.” Iwaizumi calls from the kitchen.

           “One second!” Oikawa answers. He’s slipping his toes through his sandals he found underneath the coffee table when something black and shiny catches his eye. “Auntie’s binder?”

           He reaches over and slowly slides the binder towards him. He opens to a random tab and somehow manages to get to the exact design that’s supposed to be what he’s wearing for the show tomorrow. Running his fingertips over the drawing of his figure, it finally dawns on him. His eyes widen and snap up from the book. “I’ve figured it out! I know what I need to do!”

           “Seriously Shittykawa let’s-,” Iwaizumi walks over and stops to see Oikawa staring at the designs, “go…”

           Oikawa quickly looks up at him from his sitting position on the floor. “Oh Iwa-chan, uh-“ Iwaizumi notices his eyes flit away from him for a couple of seconds. It looks like he’s trying to come up with something to say. “Right, about dinner…uh, could you go on without me? I uh, have a stomach ache. I’ll just stay here. Pick out whatever, okay?”

           His wide orbs stare up at him nervously and Iwaizumi knows he made that last part up. “Sure….if that’s what you want…” he narrows his eyes at Oikawa. He just knows the little shit’s up to something.

           “It is, now please goooo Iwa-chaaann. Out, out, out!” Oikawa pushes him happily out the door, tossing his truck keys to him.

           When Iwaizumi’s finally gone, Oikawa sighs heavily and looks up at the clock on the kitchen wall. It was already 5pm. He does some quick math in his head, trying to see if he has enough time to leave and come back before Iwaizumi gets back home. It would probably take Iwaizumi about 20 minutes or so to get to the market Hisako had told them about.

           “There’s no way I can make it all the way into town and back without the chance of Iwa-chan knowing I was gone. Hm. Unless….yes of course! I’ll use that shortcut!”

           He grabs the house keys, changes into his running shoes, and sprints out the door. Instead of running alongside the road all the way into town like he usually would, he hops a small fence and takes a shortcut through the neighbor’s small forest. He ends up running through a wide barley field, the sun beating down on him in waves and his body starting to get sweaty all over again. The leaves of the plants in the field scrape against his calves but Tooru pays it no mind. He makes his way down to a large road on the corner of town. Once he crosses one of the main roads, he’s able to slip behind the main buildings and into a suburb which he knows will lead him to where he needs to be.

           He passes the last house in the long, narrow neighborhood street and makes another turn, leading to a small set of offices. He runs through the bronze double doors and takes the elevator up to the fifth floor, leaning back against the wall of the elevator to finally catch his breath. The door opens to a bright white hallway, giant black and white photos of models striking dramatic poses in different outfits line the walls. He gets to the end of the hallway and fast-walks into his aunt’s studio space. He scans the area and spots Hisako standing near her desk with two colleagues, leaning down and pointing to a areas on a printed photo with her pen.

           “Oh, Oikawa dear, I’m quite surprised to see you here. Where’s your friend, Hajime?” she asks curiously.

           Oikawa takes a deep breath, wringing his hands in front of him. “Yeah, about Iwa-chan… Auntie, I need you to help me out with a huge favor.”

———————————————————————————————————-

A/N: wooww wonder what happens next?? Yeah I meant to post this way earlier today since I was hella excited about it and I had already typed out the outline for this part but it ended up being pretty long lol. Anyways, thanks for reading, if you like the story so far let me know by liking and commenting on it! I’d love to hear what you think! Also stay tuned for Part 3 where we finally get to the day of the fashion show! 

Also if anyone knows how to get a quick AO3 invite/account set up, let me know. I’d love to be able to post this to that site as well. Thanks so much for all your likes and support for my first ever haikyuu fic!

-Elo

[breezy-cheezy]

Mmmmmkay I have to rant about Nier: Automata for a bit; I accidentally triggered the end of the game (playthrough 2, ending B) last night and stayed up till 2:00 trying to finish the stupid “not allowed to save” phase. But y’aLL IT’S SO GOOD??????? AND 3RD PLAYTHROUGH ISN’T ANOTHER RE-RUN OF THE SAME STORY WE GET MORE STORY AAAAAAAAA

(more under the cut because there is ALOT for those who care;;;;;)

- OK SO THE MUSIC IS AMAZING??? I love LOVE that the music dynamics build in instruments and intensity as you progress towards danger/plot, but also softens again for quieter moments and just...musical storytelling is so sooooo my jam I love it. Also that the music goes 8 bit when 9S hacks stuff, it’s actually kinda cute X’D

- ON THE SUBJECT of 9S being able to hack into enemies and you getting to play that as a little teeny ship shooting down viruses and barriers and whatnot. Genius???? That added SO MUCG to the story on the second playthrough as 9S. Particularly discovering the fact that all of humanity?? Is actually extinct?? ...even BEFORE the aliens/machines attacked earth?? WH A T?????? WHAT THE HECK ARE ANDROIDS FIGHTING FOR THEN????? *every time an android salutes and says “glory to mankind” now* GLORY MY FOOT THEY ALL DEAD MOVE ON--

-  I realize it probably has alot to do with the lore of previous nier games and I’ll probably have to trawl through Wiki pages soon here. Emil himself really broke my heart aaaaaah baby...his side quest is so sad. I also looked at arts and he was a really cute kid?? Before he was turned int the freaky moon skeleton thing...?? Oh my goodness......

-  The secret lunar tear flower room is gorgeous. I just sat there for awhile to soak it all in...the music is so nostalgic and I’ve never heard that song bfore how do y’all DO THAT--

- Emil’s shop is pretty cute. He just drives around the ruins and sells stuff if you shoot him and he’ll stop X’’’D It did ruin alot of serious moments tho. *Engels, talking about how he’d sinned for killing so many androids and choosing death--* “S-A-L-E SAAAALLLEEE~~!! EVERY SALE’S A WIIIINNNNNN~~~~!!!! LALALaaaaaa~~~...” Me: *facepalm* 

- ...I just realized the little tune he sings is a cheerful rendition of the music in the flower room. H E C K

- ANYWAY. Onto the actual game. I really really enjoyed playing as 9S for obvious reasons (bABY) but it really did add so soooo much to the pretty much surface level story when you first play as 2B. Which sums them up pretty well...2B, Battle unit 2, pushes on relentlessly, avoids thinking too hard about things and what she’s doing because oh dear, EMOTION might get in the way...9S, Scanner unit 9, on the other hand, cannot stop his curiosity. He asks questions, he sticks his nose in way further than he should to some dangerous stuff. I think he realized Machines were sentient and had feelings long before 2B, but was in denial for a good while. You learn so much more about what you’re fighting as 9S, because he scans. He observes, searches, discovers. Heck, some hacking caused him to experience empathy for the poor things, to his horror...

- Actually, there are alot of scenes where either 2B or 9S questions why a machine they’re killing is screaming for help, of crying for lost family, or loudly proclaiming loyalty to a king they’ll give their lives for...they stop for a moment, but the other quickly jumps in and reminds them that it’s just imitation. It’s not real, it’s fake, machines can’t feel, yadda yadda...it was odd to me they kept switching off on reminding, but...I think they both know, deep down, what they’re doing. But denial. Because if machines DO have feelings, if they are sentient...what does that mean for all they’ve killed...? Just...hoo BOY the moral dellimas in this game?? Scary good. The quests get that across alot.

- I don’t like the theme of hopelessness in most of the side quests?? I do see many of them as cautionary tales though. We watch many characters lose hope and the will to live after their thing/person they’re living FOR is gone. It makes me worry alot about 2B, who is a soldier through and through. 9S actually does have hopes and dreams for things outside of the war, which I love ;7; they definitely lean on each other alot emotionally on this respect though...I don’t know quite what to make of the themes of the game this far in yet;;;; 

- The love between 9S and 2B is of course my favorite thing. Familial, romantic, idk. I, being me, see it as more platonic, “You’re my rock in this storm” only friend/sister/brother vibe, but as more of a fan of platonic relationships, that is what I tend to do. But 9s following 2B around like a lost puppy and trying to do all he can to help and do his job but also getting bored with said job and trying to make the most of things, asking all the “why” questions, 2B acting irritated but also always keeps him close and makes sure he’s safe....going ballistic when someone hurts her boy ;;v;; I love...2 kids. Their operators and pods are such fun dynamics too~~ 

- As far as endings A and B...DANG. It hit worse because you get backstory on the giant ocean machine (that 9S just hit with a giant missle, which he also had to ride to keep it on the right path...DX NO SELF PRESERVATION) he just...wanted his mama......;;A;;

- Also it’s not fair. 9S is so injured by that missle attack, then I guess Adam finds him and is like “HM. *sticks the lil boy impaled on a wall* Perfect. *proceeds to emotionally and mentally torture said child*“ like YO ADAM THAT’S NOT HOW YOU DO THINGS. Then 2B proceeds to kick down walls for her boy and kills Adam and walks off carrying 9S bridal style into the sunset. Lovely. I have a comic idea for this part, lol.

- Oh I don’t like Adan very much, he is pretty tho?? There was alot of blood though...how do machines bleed?? How do the androids bleed?? What??? I question this alot. 

- HHHHHHH THE BECOME AS GODS CHAPTER SCARED ME I DON’T EVER WANNA DO THAT AGAIN DANG SUICIDAL ROBOTS SCARED ME SO BAD

- Fighting Eve was...annoying but still heartbreaking. He misses his brother so much....even though Adam is a butthead and couldn’t care less he left his little brother behind DX just everything about that fight was Tragic. Also Eve developing more self awareness and realizing “Eve” is a girl’s name and being a bit miffed LOL that’s what y’all get when your first book is the bible kiddos...I realize they’re technically like what? 2 weeks old still???

- The ENDING. From 9S’s perspective is especially scary....the corruption transforming him, 2B coming in to kill him to stop the pain, he BEGGED her to, just....hhhhhhh babies ;;A;; 2B’s soft broken crying over him as she’s forced to strangle her only friend to death just aaaaaAAAAAAAA I DIE ;;;;;;;;~;;;;;;;;;

- I was actually able to cry over it this time coz. It was 2 am. No parent awkwardly watching over my shoulder. Because the pose for this scene is...........super awkward..........like......really........their clothes are super torn up and uh. The first time I was just hoping my parents wouldn’t mistake it for a sex scene or something hhhhhghhhhh;;;;;; I really really REALLY wish the pose was different, the game does need to give the fanservice a rest, at LEAST for a scene this serious DX I’m able to ignore it but when someone else is watching I don’t wanna have to explain;;;;

- That IS a big gripe I have with the game. The fanservice. Just. Why. How is 2B’s outfit practical?? Self destruct mode???? REALLY???? Get this girl battle shorts or something please.....I guess if I looked at it more as a ballet outfit?? I might make some edits when I draw her because GEEZ.

- 9S gets some of this too. Self destruct mode, his shorts are blown off???? WHAT THE HECK???? Welp, never using that again. also why is he the only yorha boy android??????????? X’’’’D They never explain that!!

- BACK TO ENDING STUFF why were there random data hologram girls standing there, watching 2B strangle 9S?? Just...silently there...they weren’t there in the first playthrough?? I’ve seen them a couple times but they’re NEVER mentioned?? WHAT ARE THEY-- is it a glitch?? Wha--

- Teeny 9S being able to dump his consciousness into a giant machine robot guy and cradling 2B in his hand ;;~;; he’s fine y’all I’m so GLAD (I wanna draw something for this scene.... I wanna draw alot of things) 

- I love Pascal. He should adopt all the sad people to his happy peace village. He already started that...what a good egg. 

- The accessories option is lovely. I’ve been running around with 9S with a blue bow in his hair forever now ;7; replaced with the flower in his hair because BOYS AND FLOWERS I LOVE but I think I might give the flower to 2B because she’d look lovely with it and....I miss the blue bow X’D

 - Also the AMOUNT of things this could line up with a KH universe....as far as how androids work, hearts (black boxes), memories making you...you, being able to transfer “hearts” to new bodies when the old is destroyed, POWER OF LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP...there’s alot. I dunno what to do with this info...

Anyway, I have alOT of thoughts and feelings on this game, it’s like...a very cool book. I’ve had trouble putting down. These aren’t even all of them but idk who I can actually rant to so here it is for the Void

I’m so interested to see where it goes! 

[starbudspresents]

DGM 229 - Panthaleia’s Translation Notes

HI GUYS, GUESS WHO'S NOT DEAD

(it's us)

(especially @krorys)

(hooray)

On this fine summer day we are delighted to bring you chapter 229, which is full-length and charming as heck. I had a lot of fun with this one, guys, and I hope you enjoy reading it half as much as I enjoyed translating it.

1.) Cover: LOVE YOU TOO, DUMBSHIT ♥

2.) Wait, since when can the present change the past? I stared at this for a while to make sure I had it right and yeah, that's definitely what it says:

現在[f: いま]だけが過去と未来を変えられる genzai (f: ima) dake ga kako to mirai wo kaerareru

w hat

3a.) I goofed up: the town is locked down with talismans, not tighter than the field of one such. Will fix when I can.

3b.) I'm not 100% sure if it should be Operation "Lola" or "Roller;" the katakana say "ro-la-," which could be either. I liked Lola better so I went with that, but if I get proven wrong later, this'll be here to prove I did consider the other possibility. :P

4.) "Only Kanda and the general have left since then" GOSH I WONDER WHERE THEY WENT? GEE

(I mean, I can't really blame them for not suspecting the heretofore impeccably loyal Tiedoll. They're still going to be kicking themselves in a little bit, though.)

5.) RIGHT IN THE SLAMMER, BYE. Hilarious as that was, though, it's really nice to see Kanda use his vicious reputation for good! His embarrassment over the charade probably lent it much of the genuine intimidation factor that chased off the Finders. It was a really effective way to keep them from searching the carriage, though I can't imagine it was fun to be Johnny back there, squished in with a worked-up Kanda and Allen (who was probably quietly goading him, to boot).

Extra note: I realize that "lololol" is extra non-period accurate but Hoshino literally wrote "wwww" there sooooo.

6.) Sweet Krory, hoping so hard he won't actually find them, pretending to look for them anyway to protect his place with the Order. Sad anxious baby. It looks like Chaozii's suspicious, which isn't surprising.

7.) That fukkin stream-of-consciousness background text panel felt like a personal fuck-you from Hoshino to every translator working on this, lmao. God.

ETA: There was actually more of it that we couldn’t fit in there. For real. The full section:

This is the next step. I must not stop. I have to get moving. They're desperate enough to bet their lives on this, after all, but I'm just as desperate to escape. To be frank, the bullets from Master's Judgement  were much more difficult to evade than the debt collectors. I really don't want to go through that again. It was practice, though, and after that, running from the debt collectors has been easy as falling off a log.

To make it clear, his monologue is a flashback from before he fled the Order, so it’s not about his current flight. He’s just talking about the repo men.

8.) Tiedoll and Johnny bonding over the loveliness of a starry sky is both tremendously charming and tremendously sad. Let the Science Division see the sky sometimes, Order?? Maybe???

9.) Allen can't even look at Tim's remains, and Johnny can't look at him because of how much it hurts to do so, this is THE MOST painful thing. I'm crying. I never expected to be this emotional about an animated blob of gold with creepy teeth and no eyes.

10.) My favourite part of the next page is Lujun's little aside on the left margin. YOU TELL 'EM, BUDDY

11.) lmao @ Johnny's eventual lack of surprise over Link being alive because he's a) ex-CROW and b) works for Lvellie?? I'm not sure what Johnny thinks Lvellie is capable of, exactly, but it's clearly more than he probably actually is. Despite his baking prowess, he is not actually magic so far as we know (unlike almost everyone else).

12.) ohhh mannnnn I was wondering if Allen would risk trying to recruit any more allies from the Order despite the risk of Falling, and here's my answer: resounding nope

It's killing me that despite how far he'd come re: relying on his comrades more, not trying to do everything himself, he... actually does kind of have to, this time? He can't trust anyone, himself least of all. There is a clear and present danger to everyone around him should they help him or learn any more than they do know, including but not limited to the Fall and/or Apocryphos' attentions. Kanda should stay behind, with the Order, for all those reasons as well as the current frailty of his used-up, exhausted body. So should Johnny, as he's essentially defenceless, and it's much harder to fight while protecting someone vulnerable. Going it alone is terrible for Allen himself, but the right call for literally every other reason, and I'm in pain.

13.) Okay the flashbacky bits are a little confusing, but most of those lines are from the third Reverse novel, the "Lost Fragments of Snow" story about how Mana and Allen met. I dug up my novel just to make sure of who said which parts of it:

Red: Why aren't you crying? (about Allen-the-dog’s death)

Mana: Guess my tears have all dried up.

Red: Didn't you share your lives? (again, re: Mana and dog)

Mana: If I grieve, the Earl will come... (re: Mana’s scrambled memory around the topic of sorrow summoning the Earl)

Mana: Because you were Allen [the dog's] friend, right? (Mana realizing why Red was crying over Allen-the-dog’s grave)

Allen internalized a lot back then, and in the moment is basically thinking that he can’t allow himself to grieve for Timcanpy, because it might draw the Earl’s attention to him again after he just barely escaped. I’m just. I’m in agony. 

14.)  There's one tiny odd thing in the next bit that might be nothing, but I'll include it just in case anyone else notices it and wonders: Allen does end the I can't tell you anything after all sentence with the "ya" sentence-final particle, which is mostly specific to southern Kansai dialects like Osaka-ben these days, but used to be more common across the country around the time this manga takes place. Old men using it is a bit of a trope in fiction, to show how old they are, lol. He also drawls his “nannimo” (extra n) a bit, which is -- again -- a bit odd. It comes off kind of unusually casual, but then, the rest of the scene is totally in character. I’m not sure what to make of it just yet. If I change it, it would be to something like “Can’t tell you nothin’ after all.”

15.) Poor, poor Johnny. He tries so hard, but he can't seem to keep up with Allen. :((

(T/N: SHAKIRA SHAKIRA)

Onnnn the other hand, I have a feeling Allen is about to pop out of the Ark with Kanda wrapped around his throat right onto the Canbell mansion lawn, so there's... that. They'll probably startle the heck out of Lucia. Gonna be good.

-

And there you have it! No big deep symbolism or huge reveals this time around, just some good old character interaction, but I'm pretty sure it's the gasp of breath before the next storm, so you'd better savour it while you can.

Till next time~~

@panthaleia

PS: Please direct any and all questions and comments to my Discord, @Panthaleia9705. I'm not on Tumblr at all at this time, so askbox commentary will languish in the dust for an indeterminate amount of time before I see it.

[my-one-love-is-music]

Sing, Little Bird Ch. 6

*pokes head in the door*

Yeah so I know it's been like a week, but I've been sick and writing was super slow. But enjoy the update? I had a lot of fun writing the first half of this chapter so I hope you like it!

Also on AO3!

Dick gasped, the knife drawing a sharp line down his thigh. He was on fire, it felt like the muscle was being ripped apart. He froze, panic constricting his chest. What if it permanently damaged the muscle? What if he was never able to flip or fly again? His breathing picked up at the thought and it only made the pain worse because this time it was radiating through his chest and chilling his core.

“Is the pretty bird ready to sing for me now?” the Punisher asked, stepping in front of him.

Dick didn’t see him, his mind too focused on what would happen if he was grounded for the rest of his life. He needed to fly. He needed it like air. He needed it like Wally needed to run. He’d die without it.

“Is that not enough for you?” Punisher asked, pressing the tip of the dagger against his cheek. “How disappointing. I was really hoping for a lovely tune,” he said before he started to whistle, low and slow in the dark of the basement.

Dick tugged at his arms, but they remained steadfast. His legs jerked, rattling the chains and sending searing pain up his thigh, the fire burning every inch of him and eating him up inside.

“Look at the little birdy, look at the little birdy,” he sang, walking around Dick until he was behind him. He felt the point of the dagger dig into his shoulder, not enough to break skin, but enough to let him know it was there and all it would take would be just enough pressure to send it sliding into his back.

The doors burst open and Dick lifted his head, hope blooming in his chest that he might finally be rescued and given the freedom that he was desperate for.

A blur of yellow flew into the room, coming to stand in front of Dick. Wally. His eyes were wide, filled with panic as he took in the cuts covering Dick’s body and the manacles keeping him chained.

Suddenly, the Punisher appeared behind him, smile gleeful as he raised the dagger over his head, staring at a point in Wally’s back.

Dick opened his mouth to scream, no sound coming out as the dagger plunged down, down, down and-

“Wall-“ Dick cut off his scream for Wally mid-shout, clamping a hand over his mouth as his eyes widened and he bolted up in bed. He looked at the hospital room around him. He’d done it. He’d finally broken the illusion. He was going to be forced back into that basement. He’d suffer, and Wally was going to end up dead because he wasn’t strong enough to save him. He wasn’t strong enough to save himself.

Wally would bleed out on the floor in front of him and it was going to be all his fault.

“Dick?” Wally asked, hands hovering over his body from where he’d sat up next to him. “Did you just…talk?”

Dick’s panic skyrocketed. He shoved at the blankets wrapped around his legs and fought to free himself from the bed. He didn’t have long. Punisher would come through the door. Hell, he could probably come through the window to get to him because it was all going to fall apart. It was all going to fall apart because he couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut.

“Dick, calm down,” Wally said.

He didn’t hear him. He had to get out. He had to get free.

He pushed himself from the bed, stumbling on the floor as the soreness in his legs jarred him. He gripped the strands of his hair, breaths coming faster as his vision swam with unseen images of darkness and blood and crazed smiles.

“Dick you’re safe,” Wally said, hurrying after him. “It was just a nightmare. He can’t get to you here.”

“No,” he croaked, shoving Wally’s hands away from him. “He’s going to get me. He’ll find me. All of this is going to disappear.”

Wally made another move to grab him and Dick reared back, his legs shaking like mad and making him stumble. Wally sped around him, catching him around the waist to keep him from falling and hurting himself further.

“Shh, Dick, it’s okay,” Wally murmured, running a hand through his hair. “It was just a nightmare.”

“Nightmare’s real, nightmare’s real,” he babbled, staring at the floor and trying to blink away the sight of blood as his chest heaved on barely-there breaths. “The dream’s going to end. If I could just learn to shut up, you wouldn’t be dead. My fault. It’s all my fault.”

“Dick, what are you talking about?” Wally asked. If he didn’t have superspeed he probably wouldn’t have been able to keep up with the three different directions Dick’s statements had taken.

“I’m gonna lose you. I just got you and I’m going to lose you.” He sniffed as tears filled his vision and muffled everything around him. They replaced the blood and he was glad. He didn’t want to see Wally’s blood. He didn’t want to see that bright yellow covered in an unnatural red.

“You’re not going to lose me Dick, I promise,” Wally said, gripping his face in his hands. He brought their gazes together and Dick sobbed. Wally was so bright. He was so beautiful, and he was dying. The Punisher was going to kill him and take the person he loved. “I swear that I’ll stay with you.”

Dick raised shaking fingers and brushed them over Wally’s cheek and the freckles that covered the skin. The touch made him sob harder. He wanted this to be real so badly. He wanted to be free. He didn’t want to see those beautiful freckles standing out against pale, lifeless skin.

“You’re never going back to that basement. I promise you. You’re free from it,” he continued, and Dick shook his head.

“I’m not free,” he mumbled through his sobs and gasps for air. “I’m dreaming and when I wake up, I’m going to be chained up again and you’re not going to be there, and I don’t want to go back there. Don’t make me go back there. I’d rather die than be without you.”

Wally froze, body stiffening underneath him. Dick sobbed harder because this had to be it. This was the moment the illusion was going to turn to mist and the darkness and pain and blood was going to return.

“Dick, do you…” he started. “Do you think that you’re stuck in a dream right now?” He forced Dick to look at him when he tried to look away and brought their gazes together, Wally’s green eyes searching his own. “Tell me you don’t think that none of this is real.”

“What else could it be?” he asked miserably. “You wanting to be my boyfriend is too good to be true and when you came to rescue me the timing was too perfect.”

“Dick, I swear to you,” Wally said firmly, holding his gaze. “All of this is real. I love you. You’re free from that basement and you’re never going back. That man can’t hurt you again. What can I do to convince you of that?”

Dick sniffled, rubbing the back of his hand under his nose to wipe away the snot. Wally sighed and pulled him against his chest, wrapping his arms around him.

“You’re going to need sooooo much therapy for this,” he mumbled into Dick’s hair.

Dick couldn’t help himself, he giggled through the wet mess of snot and tears that decorated his face.

Wally sighed and pressed a kiss to his head. “There you are.” He tightened his hold on him and Dick sagged against his chest. “There you are,” he murmured.

The door was pulled open and Dick tensed in Wally’s arms, ready to run for fear of whatever nightmare was coming back for him. Wally rubbed a hand up and down his back and looked up calmly, finding Bruce standing at the edge of the room looking at them.

“What happened?” he asked, voice tense.

“Dick had a nightmare and we learned why he wasn’t talking,” Wally explained.

Bruce hurried over to them and knelt next to Dick, not hesitating to pull off his cowl. Dick reluctantly looked up at him, meeting his gaze with watery blue eyes.

“Hi Bruce,” he mumbled.

Bruce sighed and wrapped an arm around Dick, pulling him against his chest in a hug. Wally let him go, knowing they needed the most time together after what happened.

“You remember everything?” he asked, pulling away and placing two hands on Dick’s shoulders. “No lapses in memory or misunderstandings?”

“About that…” Wally hedged.

“What is it?” Bruce immediately asked, gaze snapping up to him.

“Dick thought that everything after he was rescued by us was his imagination and an illusion his brain created to compensate for the pain and stress he was under.”

“Is that true?” Bruce asked, tone soft as he turned to Dick.

Dick stared down at his hands, his cheeks flaming as shame filled every crevice inside of him.

“It’s okay, Dick,” Bruce sighed. “You’re safe. That man can’t hurt you anymore, I promise. Do you think you’d be up for a visitor later?”

“Who?” he mumbled.

“Black Canary.”

He let out a heavy breath and closed his eyes. The therapy was already starting and he still wasn’t completely convinced that this wasn’t all in his head.

“Okay,” he agreed.

“I’ll go make the call,” he said before pulling Dick into another hug.

Dick let himself be handled. He was too drained to protest and was almost afraid of what would happen if he did fight back. It could bring all of this to an end that much sooner and he wasn’t ready to face the possibility of facing the dark again.

Bruce passed him back to Wally who gathered him in his arms and let him rest against his chest.

“I’m going to be right back. Don’t leave this room and keep him calm,” he told Wally.

Dick felt Wally nod above him and saw Bruce straighten out of the corner of his eye before he left through the door.

“So,” Wally started, and Dick blinked, staring at the wall in front of him. “Since you thought this was all a dream is that why you let yourself kiss me?”

He groaned and buried his face in his hands as the realization set in. If this really wasn’t a dream, then he could’ve royally fucked things up between them. Wally chuckled, body shaking underneath Dick where he was slumped against his chest.

“I’m glad though,” he said, trying to pull Dick’s hands away from his face. “Even if you were convinced this was a dream to keep yourself safe from the pain you were experiencing, I’m glad it happened. Because I have a feeling that you wouldn’t have told me otherwise and I wouldn’t be able to do this.”

“Do what?” he grumbled, finally raising his head when Wally closed the distance between them and pressed their lips together.

Dick sighed, sagging against him as his arms automatically wrapped around Wally’s shoulders. Wally’s warmth was slowly seeping into him, reaching the corners that had been so cold for the past day.

Someone cleared their throat and Wally jolted back, eyes wide as his entire face flushed a bright red. Dick looked over his shoulder and found Bruce standing there, cowl pulled back. He smiled sheepishly, and Bruce raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable.

“When did this happen?” he asked.

“A bit after the last time you visited,” Dick said, feeling embarrassed. He was a little worried that he was going to get in trouble for starting something romantic with Wally.

“I see,” he said, voice not giving anything away. “Anyway, I’ve called Black Canary. She’s going to zeta from Mt. Justice in a moment and will be here shortly. The team was eagerly asking after your well-being and they’re glad that you’re going to be okay.”

Dick’s stomach sank at the thought of seeing them again. He didn’t know how much they’d seen of him when he was a bleeding and broken mess on the floor, but so much felt different now. Especially since he felt so out of place and uncertain of the world around him. He didn’t know what he was going to say when he saw them again.

He wouldn’t be able to patrol until his injuries healed and he knew they’d want him to visit the Cave to at least give his hellos. But what else was he supposed to do? How did he address the experience he’d had? What would they think of him?

“You don’t have to see them right away,” Bruce added, and Dick jolted, wondering when he’d started staring at the floor. “Take your time and you can visit when you’re ready.”

He nodded.

“I’m going to meet Black Canary at the zeta tubes and walk her up here. Try and get seated in a chair or in bed before we get back. I’d rather you not hurt your injuries by lying on the floor when you don’t have to.” Bruce turned on his heel and pulled up his cowl, walking from the room and leaving Dick and Wally alone.

“Okay, you heard him,” Wally said, struggling to get his feet underneath him with Dick still in his lap.

Dick didn’t move, and Wally sighed.

“Come on, dude, it’s going to be okay. It’s just Dinah. You’ve talked to her before.”

“That’s not it,” Dick admitted, resting his head on Wally’s shoulder. “It’s the team.”

“One step at a time, right?” Wally asked, finally managing to pull himself out from underneath Dick to get him to his feet.

Dick sagged against him, not willing to hold himself up as he tried to think over what was going to happen. Wally finally got frustrated enough that he hooked his arm under his legs and lifted him from the ground, holding him close to his chest.

“You’ll be back on your feet before you know it. Make a pitstop at the Cave before you head back to the Manor. You can let everyone know you’re alive and don’t have to hang around for any of the awkward conversations before you get home,” Wally explained, setting him down on the bed.

Dick curled onto his side and faced Wally who perched on the edge of the mattress. He ran his fingers through Dick’s hair and he sighed at the touch, glad to have him there to help ground him.

“Hey Wally?” he asked, staring at where his fingers were curled towards his palms on top of the hospital sheets.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Can you do me a favor?”

“Anything for you, babe,” he agreed immediately.

Warmth spread through Dick’s chest at the name and he knew he would’ve been grinning like an idiot if things had gone differently on their mission.

“Don’t tell the rest of the team about…” he trailed off.

“About you thinking this is all a dreamworld?” he asked.

Dick sighed. “Yeah. That.”

Wally chuckled. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell them anything they don’t need to know. They can know you’re safe and you’ll make a full recovery. Beyond that, it’s nobody’s business but yours unless you want to share it.”

He closed his eyes. “You’re the best.”

Wally’s fingers found his hand and squeezed tightly, lifting his hand to press a kiss to the back of his hand. Dick smiled. The change between them was almost natural. It was like everything was different, but still the same. It didn’t seem like there was anything that could pull them apart.

“You should sit up and get your glasses on before Dinah gets here. Make sure you’re comfortable and you aren’t pulling at your wounds before you have to talk about everything else,” Wally murmured.

Dick sighed and carefully braced his arm on the mattress, gently moving himself so he was sitting up. Wally stood and positioned the pillows behind his back to give him something to lean against and handed him his glasses.

He slipped them on and crossed his legs on the bed, forever unable to sit like a normal person. He reached for Wally’s hand and linked their fingers together, soaking up the warmth pressed against his palm. The warmth that was real and signified life. Wally was alive. Wally was there. And so was Dick. They were together and Dick was beyond grateful for it.

The door slid open and Dinah walked in ahead of Bruce. She smiled and braced her hands on her hips.

“Nice to see that you’re awake and doing well,” she said.

Dick nodded.

“Wally,” Bruce said. “The Flash would like a chance to talk to you. He just arrived on the Watchtower and I think it would be best to give Dick some time alone with Black Canary.”

“Right,” Wally sighed. He offered Dick a small smile and squeezed his hand before pulling away and shuffling out of the room.

“If you need anything I’ll be right outside,” Bruce said before he left them alone and shut the door behind him.

“Hello Robin,” Dinah said, turning the chair that was still next to the bed so she could face Dick more fully. “How are you doing?”

He smiled and could feel how tight it was around the corners. “I’ve had better days.”

She nodded. “I think that’s understandable. It’s not every day you’re kidnapped by a madman bent on hurting you.”

Dick ducked his head.

“How are your injuries?”

“Healing,” he said. “I’ve had worse so it’s not a big deal.”

“Maybe not,” Dinah agreed. “Physical injuries do heal, but what I’m concerned about is your belief that your rescue was a fabrication created by your mind.”

Dick sighed and closed his eyes. He wished Wally was there. He wanted his warmth and light. “So, Batman told you about that?”

“He did. What do you think could help you understand that what you’re living through and experiencing is completely real?”

“I…don’t know. If I did, I probably would’ve realized it was real the second I woke up,” Dick admitted.

“How would you feel about seeing the man who hurt you again?”

Dick’s throat tightened, and he felt panic spread through his limbs like wildfire. He tightened his hands into fists, fighting against the shaking in his fingers and his need to bolt from the room to. He needed Wally. He needed to know he was going to be safe. He had to be sure there wasn’t anyone creeping around the corners and waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

“He-he can’t…”

“He won’t be able to hurt you,” Dinah said calmly. “But if you were to see that he’s locked up in a cell and can’t get to you, would that give you some closure? Perhaps give you a center to slowly find your equilibrium again?”

“I…I don’t know,” he whispered.

“You’ve been through a lot. You don’t have to make a decision right away, but I think it would be something to consider. And if not, then we can have another conversation later. Is there anything you’d like to share with me? About the team? About Wally?”

“How’s the team?” he asked, voice soft.

“They’re fine. Mostly worried about you,” she said, voice kind. “They’re eager for you to come back so they can be certain you’re healing and we’re not simply being gentle with them,” she explained and pushed her chair back. “I’m also relieved that you’re safe. None of us are going to forgive the man who did this. He’s going to be punished for his crimes.”

Dick nodded, and she gave him one last onceover before she walked towards the door and left him alone.

He let out a heavy breath and sagged against the pillows behind him, feeling more drained than the short conversation should’ve left him. He closed his eyes, wanting nothing more than a peaceful world of sunshine and warmth to come envelop him and make the pain go away.

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