#two beds. a laptop. a duck plush

[trophygony]

one thing to know about me is that they're unappealing colors

[jamminlocks]

A Very Full Bed {Ushijima x Reader}

Tags: F/M, M/M, post timeskip, Fluff, Hand holding, establish relationship, ushijima is soft, reader's gender is unspecified, one shot, not beta read, sfw word count: 1262 Summary: its the first time Ushijima entered your room and you have a bed full of plushies A/N: the fic mentioned from this post [ao3]

•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°

"Oh" in a mildly surprised tone is the first thing Wakatoshi says when he enters your room, having to duck down the door frame. It's obvious what this is about. The first thing anyone sees in your room is the many, many stuffed animals that sit on your bed and pillows, talking up almost half the bed space. They are stacked by height, smaller plushies on top of bigger, wider ones. Bigger, cute animals leaning on the headboard.

You quietly laugh to yourself before speaking to him. "Yeah. it's like a kid's bed, right?"

He doesn't say anything, simply humming in agreement as he scans the bed. You wait for some kind of comment from him, something along the lines of "you're a child at heart", "you didn't outgrow them", or "aren't you too old for this?".

You doubt that Wakatoshi is the kind to say something like the last line, but everyone who always had something to say.

Still he is quiet, just standing by the door. Finding no reason to talk about it more, you move on to why you two are actually here: finding the damn charger for your laptop. Just when you two were about to start sorting through your drive to see shots you took of Wakatoshi in his game, your laptop died.

"Can you look near my bed? I'll check the drawers here." You instruct. Opening one the first drawer you can reach and dig through the items.

"How many stuffed animals do you have?" Wakatoshi asked.

You didn't think he'd still be on that. With your hand still in the drawer, you look up to the ceiling and recount each plushie you know you have. "I dunno. I know I got 4 big ones on the bed. There's another two in my closet somewhere.” attention moving to the door of the closet, recalling if you’ve recently done rearrangements in there.

"You must be sleeping well at night with them around," he said

"I don't sleep with most of them, actually. Every night I move the bigger ones over there”, you point at the armchair.

Not really being in a hurry to find the charger, you stopped searching and walked up to the bed then let yourself fall onto the mattress. Some plushies squished under your weight.

"See, if I sleep with them every night like this, it's gonna get messy." You twist and climb on properly. Some plushies sitting near the edge were either moved to sit atop the bigger stuffed toys or thrown to the armchair. Once there was enough space, you lay down on your back, holding onto a large headed koala plushie. “But, yeah, It's really comfy here though,”

Wakatoshi gently smiles. It may seem the same from his indifferent expression, there's enough to see that he is happy.

You pat the vacant space beside you, “here.”

Wakatoshi initially hesitates to take the invitation. You’re insistent, moving other stuffed toys aside to make room for him. Giving in, he does his best to help you, placing of the smaller plushies to sit atop the pillow sized ones, huddling together. Though, there are still others by the foot of the bed that stayed.

The mattress sinks from his weight and you feel it. The weight of an athlete is not one you usually perceive. Wow can it move you. He does the best he can to not russell the bed that much as he settles himself. Some of the plushies fall back to blankets. His broad and muscled shoulders and arms squash the soft materials of the stuffed toys and he rests his head on the blue, seal shaped pillow. You hand him the large, round plush of a Shiba Inu, placing it over his chest. To which he takes and coversnhis stomach with.

You change your position to rest on your side, facing Wakatoshi. “How is it?”

As you patiently wait for his answer, he shifts in small motions. A hand petting the stuffed dog. You can’t help but think how silly this is right now. 

With his usual deep, monotone voice, he says, “everything is soft.”

You smile. “Sure is, huh?”

He holds out the stuffed Shiba Inu, turning to its front side for him to see its face. It has round black eyes, tongue sticking out and pink blush.

“And very cute,” he followed up. Hands squishing the sides of its head. Thumbs pressing on the cheeks. "This is the first for me"

Somehow, this is a surprising reveal to you. Not that you ever thought he was the kind to enjoy plushies as much as you do. You have thought of him as someone who could care less about them. “What, laying in a bed full of stuffed toys?” you ask in light sarcasm, just to be a little funny.

Wakatoshi hums in agreement, still playing with the dog. 

“Really? Even as a kid?” you ask, turning to your side so not to fall asleep. “You didn't have a lot of stuffed toys growing up?"

“They gave me some when I was young. I don’t believe I slept holding one or having one at my bed, however,” he said. 

He takes interest in a small cat plush wearing a dotted dress sitting by your head and takes it, toying with its paws. “Now I feel like I’ve missed out on something so simple.”

You take your favorite purple penguin to wrap your arms on and you cheerfully say to Wakatoshi, “good thing you have now, huh?”

His attention returns to you. Eyes a surprise from what you said. Then, the familiar subtle fondness you’ve observed from him shows through calm eyes and a very rare natural smile.

“You're right,” he said.

You turn and push yourself up. It gives you a good look at Wakatoshi, ever so politely lying straight on your bed surrounded by the cutest and most adorable soft toys. It's silly really. You never thought you’d ever see him like this, given how serious he comes off whether he realizes it or not. You smile at him. Plopping yourself beside him a little closer and on eye-level to him.

“How come there’s so many?” he asked, shifting to have his body face you.

“Well…”

The two of you stay in bed, talking about how and when you got the plushies. Which ones you got as a kid, those you bought with your own money or won on crane games, and those you got as a gift, along with who they were from. Wakatoshi listens attentively, asking questions after you answer. He listens to you babble on, saying his simple yet unintentionally funny remarks here and there. You’d laugh. Its nice and relaxing. 

At one point, when your voice got soft and slower as you tell the story of how you got a very expensive pokemon plush in a crane game after three times and barely spending, He sneaks his hand to yours that is resting on the mattress, lacing them together. You continue to talk as you return the gesture by playing with the grip of your fingers on his hand. Face to Face to each other.

Suddenly, Wakatoshi said, tenderness the most clear in his expression it has ever been, "we should do this more often."   

You want him to clarify what he meant by that. Does he mean just lying down together? Talking about random stuff? Or, just lying in bed. Lying on your bed? Does he want you spending time on his bed?

Whichever it is, your heart wholly agrees. 

"Yeah."

•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°

A/N: imma be real with you chief, i dont even know if they kissed after that 😅

[jadequeen88]

Smart Girls Make Fast Learners

NSFW 18+ ONLY. MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

My contribution to the BNHarem’s monthly collab. The theme was SEx work. ⛓This piece is a first real deep dive into darker themes and was actually really, really exciting to write. 🖤 A massive thanks to my dear friend @libiraki​ for beta reading this.

TW: yandere behavior, toxic relationship, degradation, non-con, dub-con, degradation/praise kinks, mind break, oral (M and F receiving), over stim, loss of virginity, mentions of physical violence.

DISCLAIMER: I do not condone this type of relationship. This is a work of fiction and if this happens IRL please get out of the relationship!

There is a very specific type of dread that occurs when you discover that the person you built your world around has been lying to you. Tamaki Amajiki was experiencing this brand of betrayal for the first time in his twenty-one years on a rainy Tuesday in October in the dim lighting of your dorm room. His grip tightened around the open laptop as he stared at glimpses of flesh in the thumbnails of the many, many videos posted to the site. Previous live streams with thousands of views. He gulped down the bile in his throat as he scrolled through the videos. His shock and disgust morphed into a pure rage as he counted up the live streams that you’d had since first kissing him. 12. There had been twelve. Three times a week for the past four weeks. 

Those big doe eyes that looked into his eyes as you tentatively licked the tip of his cock for the first time… mere hours later they were rolling in the back of your head as you got off for strangers on the internet. He couldn’t take it. You were his first… everything… he knew that you hadn’t been innocent in your past. The way your tongue expertly wound around his when you first kissed him amongst your plush pillows and goose-down comforter reminded him of the fact. The low violet LED lighting of your bedroom made him feel like the two of you were in your own ethereal world. He could forgive you for not waiting for him as he’d waited for you. 

For the past four years, he kept to the shadows. He was there when the football player from freshman year cheated on you with one of your terrible friends (and when it happened the second, third, fourth time). He was there to binge your favorite shows with you (“*insert current guy you were fucking* just doesn’t get it, he’s not into it. I’m so glad I’ve got you to watch it with!”) He bit back the heartache that would wash over him when you’d pet him and coo over him… you didn’t see him as a man. He wanted to bend you over and prove he could fuck your brains out. He KNOWS he’d be perfect for you. But he never rejected the attention. He smiled and accepted whatever crumbs fell from your table. Whether it be helping you study or letting you complain about your shitty friends or your shitty jock boyfriends or your shitty parents… He gave and gave and gave… until that one day, 35 days ago to be exact, a shift in the tide occurred.

 ⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸

“So why don’t you have a girlfriend, Tama-kun?”

“Wh-wha?”

Tamaki dropped the pencil he’d been using and before he could bend to get it himself, your hand was on his thigh and he was putty in your grasp. You giggled and cooed over him like you always did, but this time you did it while assaulting his mouth and neck with your skilled tongue. This time, for the first time, you made Tamaki feel like a man. Like YOUR man.

⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸

Over the next few weeks, Tamaki had become quite skilled in pleasing a woman. It only took a little guidance to have him sucking at your clit with just the right amount of pressure. He learned on his own how to couple that with his long, delicate fingers twisting and pumping in and out of your slick hole. You’d cling to his silky hair, pulling him closer as a constant stream of praise tumbled from your lips:

“No one has ever made me feel this good.”

“Your fingers are perfect Tama-kun”.

“I love your mouth on me so much, baby.”

The first time you came on his face, Tamaki knew there was a god because he’d found heaven between your thighs.

But that was gone now… ripped away with one mouse click on the night he was going to finally give you his virginity. He had held on to it like it was a treasure. A treasure he’d present to you one day wrapped up in life-long devotion and worship... But Tamaki wasn’t in heaven anymore. He wasn’t going to worship you tonight. For the first time since laying eyes on you, Tamaki wanted to hurt you.

⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸

You turned the shower off and dried yourself. Wiping the condensation from the mirror, you couldn’t help but smile at your reflection. You felt like this was going to be the first time giving your body to someone. Tonight was a redo. You were wiping the slate clean. Your first time would no longer be underneath the football captain in the passenger seat of his truck, left feeling sore and unsatisfied. It was going to be with the guy you should have noticed long ago. It would be soft and slow… passionate and filled with sweet words and caresses… limbs tangled in soft sheets that smell like lavender and vanilla. 

You applied your lotion and moisturized your face. The red lace adorning your body was arranged perfectly, accentuating the soft swell of your hips and chest. With one last glance in the mirror and adjustment of your bra, you opened the door to the cool air of your dorm room…

...And saw Tamaki looking murderous. 

His eyes slowly left the screen to meet your gaze. His tear-stained face had never looked this harsh. His normally sweet eyes were narrowed and red from crying. The sweet lips you’d licked and sucked with such tenderness were hard and cold as they pulled upward in a grimace.

The only thing he said before rising from the bed and setting aside your laptop was your camgirl username. Then he was on you before you could draw a breath to explain.

⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸

Tamaki always thought he liked you best on top of him showering him with kisses and threading your fingers through his hair, but he had to admit… having your arms tied to a bed frame with the silky sash of your bathrobe cutting into your skin was doing things to him. When you sniffled, face stained with tears and snot, his dick twitched in his boxers. The whines you were choking back behind the silky red panties stuffed down your throat sent chills up his spine. You had to learn the hard way not to spit them out after a harsh slap echoed against your skin when you fought back the first time.

Tamaki stood back to survey the mess of skin, spit, and tears for a moment. You were a blank canvas for him to mark up with his rage and lust. You tried to hide away your bare pussy by clenching your thighs together. It only spurred him on.

“Do you have any clue what you’ve done?” he hovered over you, sleek muscles rippling over your own soft body, “I waited, and waited, and WAITED,” he bit down on the side of your exposed neck and you screamed behind the silky gag, trying your best not to expel it from your mouth and receive more punishment.

“I want to give you everything, Y/N,” he licks over the bite, almost apologetically, “I don’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want it to happen like this… FUCK, why?! Why did you ruin this?” his long fingers dug into your cheeks as he forced you to meet his fiery gaze. You couldn’t help whimpering and sniffling back more clear runny snot. You were so humiliated at how disheveled and disgusting you must look. His head ducked into the soft spot between your neck and shoulder and you felt him sob. 

Despite the abuse he’d inflicted upon you in the last ten minutes, you nuzzled your cheek into the top of his head in an attempt to comfort him. And he let you… he hated himself for it and he hated you for making this all so hard for him.

“No… no, no, no,” he rose from the bed to set up your ring-light and laptop, ice running through your veins at the sight. Your mind couldn’t accept what was about to happen.

“I’m... I’m not letting you get away with this,” he shook his head and pulled at his hair as he finished setting everything up, “If you’re insisting on being a slut, you’ll be MY slut. And everyone will know…” he jerked your ankle to force you flat on your back.

⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸

Maybe if he’d let the gag out of your mouth, you’d be able to tell him this was just a job to you. That it was clinical… that he was the only one who had ever been able to get you off, that his face was the only one you’d come on… that you needed the money since your parents had disowned you…

But you only laid there, accepting whatever he was going to dish out. You knew he was hurt. You weren’t stupid. You overlooked him while knowing how he felt about you. It took years of horrible one-night stands and countless frat parties pretending that whatever guy you’d picked that night was interesting for you to come to your senses. You hated yourself for being so blind for so long… You adored Tamaki, truly. And you hated yourself for all the times you’d hurt him… so you swallowed your fear and tried to prepare yourself for whatever came next.

⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸

Any soft parts of Tamaki that you’d grown to love were gone, hardened by heartache and desperation. After angling the laptop to get the perfect shot, he started the live stream countdown. Subscribers started trickling in, commenting on how this was a pleasant surprise since it wasn’t one of your regularly scheduled streams. You shut your eyes to pretend this wasn’t real.

Without fanfare or warning, Tamaki ripped apart your thighs, exposing your bare slit. A raw shrill was pulled from your lungs, your back arching from the sting of an abrupt slap. Neurons fired off in your brain… were you in pain? Was it pleasure?

“Since my girlfriend likes to keep secrets from me, I can’t trust what comes out of her whore mouth,” he emphasized his point by stuffing his fingers past your lips, pushing the soaked silk further into your throat, “So she’s going to keep this gag right here until I can fuck the truth out of her,” he trailed his fingers along your reddened folds. Were you getting wet? Horror and shame blossomed in your chest. The fact that you were growing aroused wasn’t lost on Tamaki. His foreign, sadistic grin was back… aimed directly into your soul.  

“So that’s what you like, huh?” His nails bit into your thighs leaving tiny crescents behind, “I’ve been too nice? Too soft?” He pushed your thighs impossibly wide, the stretch causing you to moan. He hovered over your core, onyx orbs blown wide with a mix of hate and lust. Tamaki looked like the devil himself and you wondered just how fucked up you were for wanting his punishment.

He opened his mouth and lolled out his tongue, never severing the desperate gaze you both shared, his intertwined with hunger, yours with fear. You’d never noticed how long and thick his tongue was and couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel caressing every ridge and crevice of your inner walls. He flattened the warm, wet muscle and pressed it along your slit. As he slowly slid it closer and closer to your burning clit, you whimpered and bucked your hips chasing the pleasure you knew he was capable of giving… but this was not your sweet boy and he wasn’t doing any of this for your pleasure.

He slung his arm over your lower stomach and growled into your drenched lips. You were pinned down, helpless against his torturous tongue. Fresh tears pricked at your eyes as you remembered how he’d let you pet him and buck into his face, how sweetly he’d ease you into a gentle release. Not this time… it was all teeth and sharp sucks, his tongue forcing you open violently. You were being shoved over a cliff and despite the horror and violence of what was happening to you. You were approaching an orgasmic state at record speed. Tamaki caught on and doubled down. The arm that wasn’t pinning you into the mattress pulled your leg down straight, your knee in a death grip. The new angle made the sensations even more intense. His face pressed harder into your core and you noticed that at some point, he’d started weeping, small sobs vibrating against your skin. The overwhelming mix of emotions and the vigor in which he was eating you shoved you over the edge.

He kept going along at the same speed with the same determination through your orgasm until it became painful. You pushed past it as best you could, allowing him to sob into your over-sensitive skin until he had his fill. As the pain started intermingling with pleasure, your legs shook and the gag couldn’t hold your screams back any longer. You released against his tongue once more, both of you sobbing. He laid against your thigh for what felt like an eternity before he lifted himself to lay on top of you, his hip bones digging into your soft thighs. You could feel the bulge through the thin material of his boxer briefs. Your hips rose to meet it, a pleading gesture filled with the desire to comfort and please him. Your eagerness encourages his mercy, there’s a meek cry that leaves your lips when the damp silk slips from between your teeth.

“Please baby… I’m so, so sorry I didn’t tell you…” your voice was as weak as a kitten’s cry and Tamaki couldn’t deny it made his heart (his dick) clench.

“Say it…” his lips were close enough to kiss, but you resisted… fearful of what he’d do if you did.

“Say what, Tama?” your eyes were wide with concern and confusion. You were desperate to please him.

He turned your face to the camera that you’d forgotten was there and the gravity of the situation crashed around you again. New tears leaked from your stinging eyes as Tamaki whispered into your ear.

“Say that you’re a lying whore…”

“I..I’m a lying whore…”

The last syllable broke as your abused throat grew accustomed to speaking again. He rewarded you with a soft kiss to your cheek and your eyes closed at the tender gesture. The familiar pain in your chest welled to the surface causing even more tears to escape.

“And tell everyone that you’re my own personal slut”

You repeated the phrase to the audience behind the screen and he hummed with approval, trailing one finger along your wet cheek. 

“Good girl…” the praise sent shivers through your wrecked body.

“And tell them from now on, your boyfriend will be the only one making you come… that they only get to see you be HIS slut.”

You noticed the chat going absolutely haywire at your announcement. Before Tamaki shut your laptop, you realized you’d made three times as much as you’d ever made before and a twisted sense of accomplishment filled your cloudy mind.

“Please,” your voice came out in a croak, “Please untie me. I wanna make it up to you,” his clothed bulge was burning into your core and you could tell he was close to breaking.

“Please let me make you feel good. I’m so, so sorry,” the clench of your thighs around his waist made him whimper.

He reluctantly pulled away to sit on the foot of the bed. The way he curled in on himself hugging his knees made him appear so small, so fragile… a complete change from the man who’d just manhandled you into restraints.

“You’re a liar…” you almost didn’t hear the whisper, his face buried into his knees.

“Please!” you were losing feeling in your hands and all you wanted was to be free to comfort him.

His eyes met yours and it was your Tamaki again... Your sweet boy… the snarling, green beast that threatened to devour you was sleeping now after it reached its fill of violence. He crawled over your body and released your restraint. Before you even regained feeling in your hands, you wrapped your arms around him. You littered his collarbone with sweet kisses and apologetic sobs. He began to melt into your affectionate gestures and you wrapped your legs around his waist pulling him impossibly close. Wet lips met and your tongues fought against each other for dominance. Hips began to roll against each other, increasing pressure until you both gasped. 

The violence was gone, but this was still not a gentle coupling like you’d been planning. Tamaki pulled away and freed his straining cock from his boxers. The skin-to-skin contact made your eyes roll back into your skull. You felt his long fingers grasp your throat, squeezing to remind you just how powerful they were. You shuddered in response, arching upward into his touch, chasing that high his dominance was giving you.

With one swift motion, Tamaki speared you onto his cock. With the minimal prep he’d given you, the stretch was agonizing. This was by far the largest cock you’d ever taken and it stole your breath from your aching lungs. You moaned earning a visceral reaction from the boy on top of you.  

Tamaki stayed as still as he could. He refused to come so soon… not when he’d waited so long for this. He tightened his grip on your throat and tentatively rocked his hips into yours. It didn’t take long for it to progress into the most frantic love-making you’d ever experienced.

There was no other way to describe it, he was hate fucking you… biting and sucking your chest until blood bloomed under your skin… hammering into your sore, sticky cunt with total abandon… he was using you like a toy, taking out all his frustrations on your body.

It was ecstasy.

When his hips stuttered as he met his release, the spasms of his tip against your gummy walls sent you into a painful orgasm. You were spent and it seemed like he was too. Your fingers twitched over the crown of his head, wanting to run your fingers through his hair but too scared to initiate any contact with him. As if he could read your mind, he grabbed your hand and placed it on his head. You sighed and began carding through the tangles, gently undoing them. You felt a stream of tears running down your chest as you worked your fingers through his strands. Lifting his face gently, you met his teary gaze with your own.

“Don’t…” he drew in a shuddering breath, “ever lie to me like that again…” the monster behind his eyes stirred quietly, a malicious glint in his eye, before shifting back into your gentle boyfriend. 

“Never, I swear to you, baby…” he lets you lift his chin gently to meet your lips. His eyes close and he sighs into your kiss. His muscles relax and when his eyes open again, his warm, adoring expression falls over your face. The hand that wanted to choke the life out of your eyes minutes ago now caresses your jaw tenderly,

“I trust you…” his lips turn up into a grin that’s just a little too wide, “Because you’re a smart girl, aren’t you?” his top lip brushed against your still trembling bottom lip…

“Y-yes…”

You were fucked. This whole situation was fucked up and you weren’t blind to the fact. But as Tamaki nuzzled into your neck placing soft kisses and whispering praises into your skin, you let yourself bask in the gentleness of the moment…

Because you were a smart girl and smart girls learn their lessons quickly... 

[spencerlouis]

Can you do one where Louis is interested in his college classmate Harry but Harry is very fit and Louis is like 250 so he feels like he is out of his league. You can add on whatever you want !

Louis sneakily glanced at Harry Styles, while his professor went on and on in his lecture. Louis studied him with a loving smile on his face. His curls were messy and he was getting a tan, probably from the surfing lessons he had started taking. 

Louis sighed, he wished he could go to the beach, it was getting quite hot in California where he was attending university. But the thought of going to the beach, even in a shirt, with the way his body looked made him incredibly self conscious. Louis ducked his head as he was reminded of the reason he had to get over this stupid crush he had. A guy like Harry, fit and athletic, would never want to date someone like Louis, who loved food maybe a bit too much, which resulted in him being overweight. He weighed 256 pounds and his shorter height did nothing to disguise the extra pounds. 

Louis had always been insecure about his weight. He had been on the heavier side of average for most of his life and had been teased because of it. But it was when he started university that he had really ballooned. The stress of moving to another country and his course load caused him to stress eat. He had put on around 80 pounds and never managed to lose it. 

The class soon ended and Louis squeezed himself out of the tight chair. The seats at his university had armrests that loved to dig into his plush sides. Louis rushed to get out the door as fast as possible when he tripped and fell forward, knocking someone down with him. He heard the other person grunt from the impact of the two of them hitting the floor. When Louis opened his eyes he froze in horror, he had knocked into Harry! And not only that, but he had fallen on top of him. Louis scrambled to get off of Harry, frantically apologizing with a blush dusting his cheeks.

Louis’ eyes widened when Harry only chuckled and stood up, dusting himself off, “it’s fine,” he laughed, reaching a hand out to help Louis up. 

“Are you sure? You’re not hurt?” Louis worried his big body had crushed Harry. 

“I’m not hurt. Don’t worry, I’m not that delicate.” 

Louis blushed and ducked his head, causing his double chin to become more prominent. “Right, well… um… I am sorry,” Louis shyly told him before speeding off. 

Harry watched Louis with a curious gaze. He had never noticed him before, but he honestly was so adorable. Harry walked away with a smile on his face and a plan to speak to Louis tomorrow. 

~

Louis sat down the next day in his regular seat, at the back and away from everyone. He was arranging his books and laptop when he heard someone plop down next to him. 

“Hey, I didn’t really get a chance to properly introduce myself yesterday. I’m Harry Styles.” Harry smiled at him.

“I uh.. I know.” Louis cringed as Harry just laughed, “I mean uh, you’re popular… on lots of sports teams and stuff. Sorry, I’m rambling… Uh, I’m Louis.” 

“That’s a cute name,” Harry said with if, Louis didn’t know better, he would say was a flirtatious undertone, “and yeah, I do lots of sports. I just started surfing.”

“Really?” Louis pretended not to know, “Do you like it?” 

“Love it,” Harry corrected, he then eyes Louis, “I would love to take you sometime. I think you’d enjoy it.”

Louis’ cheeks turned red at the thought of trying to balance his fat body on a surfing board. “I don’t really think it’s my thing.” 

“Oh.” Harry, for the first time seemed to deflate a little, “maybe we could do something else together?” 

“Like what?” Louis responded, his heart racing. 

“Hmmmm, I don’t know. Hey! I’ve been meaning to check out this old-fashioned drive-in movie theater. Maybe you could come with me?” 

Louis shyly nodded and Harry gave him a smile, just as their professor walked in and the class began. 

~

“Zayn, seriously, I need help. I have no idea what to wear!” Louis groaned as he flopped on his bed. 

“Well since you’re going on a date, you’ll want to wear something nice, but casual, because you’re going to a casual place.”

Louis snorted, “I doubt it’s a date.” 

Zayn rolled his eyes, “I was talking to Taylor today, you know, Harry’s best friend, and she said that he wouldn’t shut up about your guy’s date.” 

Louis sat up, “she’s not jealous, is she?” Louis had heard rumors that there was something more between Harry and Taylor. 

Zayn just laughed, “no. She was actually saying how cute you two would be together.” 

Louis bit his lip, and turned to look at himself in the mirror, “but we don’t really match, do we? He’s all fit, meanwhile I have this.” Louis lifted up his shirt to reveal his tummy that was hanging over the jeans he was wearing. 

Zayn’s eyes softened, “hey, don’t be like that. You're beautiful.” 

“I’m fat,” Louis stated, with a raised eyebrow. 

“Yes, you are. That doesn’t change the fact that you are beautiful. Now let's get you ready for that date.” 

~

Louis nervously adjusted the button up he had decided to wear, hoping it didn’t pull too tight on his tummy. His phone buzzed with a text from Harry saying he was here to pick him up. Louis stepped outside and took a deep breath before walking towards the car and opening the door. 

“Louis!” Harry greeted him happily, “these are for you.” he reached over and pulled out a bouquet of sunflowers, handing them to Louis. 

Louis blushed, “they’re beautiful, but you didn’t have to, Harry.”

“I wanted to, and plus they reminded me of you.”

Louis sat down with warmness in his heart as they drove to the drive-in. 

“Gosh, I love this,” Harry sighed in contentment. 

“What?” Louis questioned

“America,” Harry answered, “I love getting to experience the culture. I mean, here I am at a drive-in movie theater with a pretty boy.” 

Louis’ face heated up but he tried not to show how flustered he was, “do you like it here better? Then in England.” 

Harry thought about it for a minute, “I don’t know, I guess they both have their upsides. I kind of romanticized American life, I guess. I watched a lot of movies as a kid.” 

They stayed silent for a while watching the movie play, but when the credits started to roll Harry scooched closer to Louis. He slowly leaned in and kissed him, Louis’ eyes widened in surprise but he quickly kissed Harry back. Louis was in a moment of pure bliss, never in his wildest dreams did he imagine a moment like this with his crush or really anybody. He was snapped out of it though when Harry placed his hands on Louis’ side and gripped his love handles. 

Louis pulled back, embarrassment all over his face. 

“Hey, What’s wrong?” Harry questioned, concern lacing his features, “we don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Louis shook his head as he faced the ground, “it’s not that.”

“Then what is it?” 

Louis let out a little sob and gestured to his side where Harry was still holding the fat at his sides. “I guess I’m worried that once you actually feel and see my body you’ll realize what a huge mistake you’ve made.” 

Harry’s heart broke at Louis’ soft little sobs. “Don’t you ever think that. You’re beautiful and you do not have to worry about your weight.” Harry reached and gave his plush tummy a jiggle and held it, “you know how cute this is? How soft and cuddly? And how much I love it?” Harry whispered in Louis’ ear. “You’re perfect,” he reassured him, before connecting their lips once again.

If anyone wants to send me chubby Louis Tomlinson or chubby Spencer Reid concepts, ideas, or requests you can. The only thing I don’t want is anything with full on s3x and outright f33derism. Any ship is fine as well.

Also feel free to ask me questions as long as they are respectful and send me any chubby Louis and Spencer fics you come across or write :)

[milkytheholy1]

Late night, deep thoughts

A/N: I had this idea after recently reading a fic on A03 called 'Night Light', which I highly recommend it's so good, anyway this idea kinda stemmed from a part in their fic. I hope you enjoy!

RiseLeo x GNReader

Tmnt masterlist

Ultimate masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey! You're hogging all the blanket!" You cried out tugging the plush material closer to your chest. Leo clutched what little fabric he had left, desperate to conceal the warmth he had, even if for a few minutes. "Oh, c'mon! You're warm-blooded, I actually need this blanket." he groaned, prying the blanket back. A small, devious plan crept into your mind, while Leo struggled to tug his corner of the blanket, you simply let go. Leo fell to the floor violently, the blanket slipping down the side of his bed and soon joining him.

Your laughter filled the room, falling onto your back you kicked your legs into the air as cackles rolled through you. Leo sat up, his head level with the mattress of the bed, and glared at you. He blew one of his mask tails off of his face, a huff escaping his lips, "Ha ha, very funny." He jumped up from the floor and landed on the bed muttering a small "Move over," as he plopped beside you. Leo plucked the blanket off of the ground and draped it over you both, "Better?" he questioned, his tone sarcastic, "Much," you beamed up at him.

Leo let out a small chuckle, god you were adorable, his fingers dug around for the laptop he had most likely buried under the blanket. When he felt the pang of pain hit his knee he knew he had found it, "So, whattaya wanna watch?"

"Hmmm, Doctor Who?"

"We watched that last week." he groaned out, scrolling through Donnie's Netflix account, which he definitely had permission to use. He landed on a show, read the bio, then continued to scroll "What about Parks and Rec?" you suggested, plumping the pillow behind your back to get more comfortable. Leo shrugged his shoulders in response, "Eh, I kinda find that Jean Ralphio guy annoying."

"Okaaaay, what about Ducktales?"

"Too many ducks."

"Ooh, what about that new Sonic movie, that's meant to be good right?"

"Are you kidding me, he nearly kills a turtle in the first 30 minutes."

You slumped down against Leo's arm, your finger rubbing against your chin deep in thought, God Leo was picky. "What about Flushed Away?" he asked, landing on the title screen for said movie, "Flushed Away?" you questioned, trying your best to look up at him. Leo smiled down at you, pouting his lips just the tiniest amount, "C'mon it's a movie set in the sewers, it's basically perfect."

"Oh, so you won't watch Sonic because he nearly drops a turtle, but you'll watch Flushed Away?"

"We could watch Bee Movie," he teased, scrolling the mouse over to Barry.B. Benson's head. You grabbed his hand in panic, "NO!" Leo burst out laughing "Flushed Away it is," he grinned, letting the movie play out.

The movie had just finished, your face was smushed up against Leo's arm, content with the warmth he and the blanket provided. You felt Leo shuffle beside you, no doubt going to change the movie, "So what now?" he mumbled, his voice sounded tired. Thinking hard, a smirk came to your face, "How about Galaxy Quest?"

"What's that?" he asked, typing in the name, "Oh you'll love it, it's like Jupiter Jim but better."

"Well I doubt anything is better than Jupiter Jim." he argued, you shoved him back down with your hand and snuggled your head against his shoulder, "Just watch it," you whispered. Over the course of the movie, Leo's head moved closer and closer to your own until he was completely leaning against you, a short yawn forcing its way out of his mouth. Your eyes would flutter closed for a minute or two before snapping open at the sound of an explosion, you couldn't help the fact that you were tired you had been up all night talking to Leo, planning how your day together would go.

As the screen turned black and the credits rolled, Leo closed the lid of the laptop and the room was coated in an inky blackness. It was still for a moment, the only thing you were certain of was the boy beside you and the lulling sense of sleep. The shimmering fairy lights hung above Leo's bed forced a groan from your lips, but when Leo's arm pulled away from you that truly woke you up. "By Grapthar's hammer, I think that was pretty good." Leo slurred out, delicately placing the laptop on the ground then returning to you.

"Better than Jupiter Jim?" you croaked, already feeling your throat grow hoarse. You sought for Leo's arm again, waiting patiently for the green limb to be back in your possession; which didn't take long. Leo coughed out a laugh, throwing his free arm behind his head he gazed up at the ceiling, "I never said that." he mused.

He could feel his thoughts start to consume him, sure he was tired but he couldn't close his eyes, he wasn't ready yet to fall into the land of slumber. His thoughts were usually quite sensible, for the most part, often thinking about a good joke, a new skateboarding trick, what to eat for dinner; normal stuff. More recently he found his thoughts were full of you, how beautiful you looked, how funny you were, everything about you really; but that's what you get when you've been dating for over a month. It was only on rare occurrence, mainly when his anxiety wasn't eating him up, where he had deep thoughts, things he thought could benefit the world even if they were dumb:

"Okay, hear me out," he started, suddenly waking you from a light slumber, "If you search up a photo of Earth you're technically in the picture." you coughed painfully as a giggle ripped through your throat, "What?" you carried on. Leo tried to shrug his shoulders, finding the action a lot harder when you were nestled against him, "All skyscrapers are tall sandcastles," he claimed.

Okay, if he was going to unload all his random thoughts on you then you could do the same to him. "People who are good looking but have terrible personalities are basically real-life click baits." Leo let out a small chuckle at your thoughts, his eyes shooting to look at you from where you rested against him. Your eyes seemed to sparkle under the fairy lights, maybe it was because he was tired but to him you had never looked more beautiful than you did at this very moment.

The room had gone silent, the only sound being the low buzz from the projector down the hall. It was at times like these where you were happy you had ever met Leo and his brothers, feeling comfortable with someone when sat in silence was hard to come across, but with Leo, it felt natural. You wondered what things you could do with Leo if he wasn't a turtle, of course, you loved him no matter what he looked like; still, you couldn't help but ponder the circumstances.

"Do you ever wish things were different?" you whispered, breaking the quiet but never the peace.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, like, what life would be like if you weren't a turtle?"

"Oh, I mean, yeah of course I do. I think about it a lot, actually. Knowing I could be topside without pretending to be in a costume or hiding in the shadows, it would be nice. I could actually take you out to fancy restaurants and we could have dates like normal couples."

His hand squeezed your own, a warm smile on his face yet it didn't reach his eyes. You felt the claws of sleep dragging at your mind, pulling you into a pit of unconsciousness. Gripping his hand with just as much love, you kissed the peak of his shoulder, "We don't need to be normal, I love you just the way you are shell and all." You couldn't see it but Leo had the biggest grin on his face, his chest swelling up with pride. If he didn't brag about this to his brothers in the morning what kind of boyfriend would he be?

Leo looked down at your head, being the only thing he could clearly see with his tired eyes, and pecked his lips against the soft tussles of your hair, "I wouldn't change a thing either," he lovingly whispered.

Leo pulled the blanket closer to your chin, he sluggishly flicked off the fairy lights and cuddled closer to your sleeping form for the best night sleep he's ever had; all because he's wrapped up next to you.

Goodnight, (Y/N).

[baby-n-boo]

Pink is not a girl’s color- regressor! Tommy, finally big brother tubbo, cg! Wilbur

Tommy was little. There was no two ways to put it. And, as if it wasn’t obvious enough from the fact he hadn't sworn in a whole ten minutes, His thumb was inserted firmly in his mouth as he gamed one-handedly, a small piece of paper over each of the webcams on his monitors, in case someone saw. He had finished his stream that day in rather a hurry, logging off of the dream SMP almost as soon as the confirmation came through that the stream had ended, already feeling the pull of the headspace on his mind, and knowing he wouldn’t have been able to hide it from his friends should he have fully slipped. But, for now, he was idly wandering around a solo server he had made for himself, trying to remember where he had built his home last time he had been on the server. His chair creaked in protest, as he tried to bring his knees up to his chest, resting his feet on the very edge of the seat, making him jump. It wasn’t that he was easily scared when little, but the fact he had become accustomed to the silence that seemed to surround him when he was small, since nobody ever wanted to talk to him without being mean.  

But it was ok. He could look after himself. He was a big boy, really! Mumbling to himself, around his thumb, he tried to direct his character over to the little hill he could see in the distance, not noticing the river running between himself and said mound, and promptly falling right in. At the sudden change of perspective, Tommy panicked, pulling his hand away from the keyboard like it had burnt him, in the hopes it would be fixed if he stopped. But it didn’t, leaving him arrested in fear, watching as the pretty bubbles went away, and his character started taking damage. He didn’t want the pretty red hearts to go away, they were nice!  

Whining slightly as the last one slipped away, and the death message popped up on screen, shading everything in a dim sort of red, Tommy shoved the mouse away too in frustration, refusing to respawn. He wore a stubborn pout as he spun on his chair to turn his back on the screens, just in time for a knock to sound on his door. Worrying for a moment, he yanked his thumb out, and minimised the tab, not wanting anyone to see, before calling out a “Yeah?” that sounded too loud and brash to be right, even for his normal self.  

Wilbur, poking his head through the door carefully, smiled to see Tommy not doing much, before starting to speak. “I, uh, I saw your stream ended? I was wondering if you wanted to come spend some time with real people now?” he joked, referencing how little time Tommy actually spent socialising. Despite how much he really really wanted to nod yes, and go with him, Tommy shook his head, carefully measuring his voice to reply. “Nah, you’re alright, I have masses of women to talk to.” he tried to joke back, his smile just a little too wide, the usual bravado missing from the tone, though Will shrugged it off, sure that if something was up, Tommy wouldn’t hesitate to complain about it.  

“Well, if you change your mind, don’t forget, Toby and I ’re right downstairs.” He reminded Tommy, with a slightly stern look, before ducking back out the door frame. He tried to nod an affirmation, turning as if to go back to his game, but, as soon as he heard the door click back into place, and the creak of the stairs, he pushed up off his chair, padding over to his bed instead. He wasn’t big enough for gaming, right now, and certainly not to go face his friends. Don’t get him wrong, he was glad they had offered to come over and keep him company while his parents were away for some business trip or other, but it was hard to hide his little space from them when he knew they would be watching his streams, and constantly reminding him to actually care for himself. Especially since it had saved him the embarrassment of his parents hiring some babysitter that never actually did anything, once they found out how old he was.  

Tummy rumbling as he sat down cross-legged amid the rumpled sheets, and pulled his favourite blanket out from under his pillow, Tommy whined, having run out of fruit snacks the previous night when he had been streaming till two in the morning. Normally, it wouldn’t be an issue, him just having to sneak down and grab something from the cupboards under the guise of still streaming, but he knew, as soon as he set foot on the stairs today, his friends would be dragging him into a switch game tournament, or a conversation, or, even worse, a trip to the store. Shuddering at the very thought of going outside, Tommy shook his head. No, going hungry was much better than whatever they had in store for him.  

His PC kept chiming with discord messages, probably from his other streamer friends to wonder why he had ended so fast, but he merely ignored them, balling up under the ratty sky-blue blanket, and trying to get his head to stop being quite so fuzzy. It didn’t help as his thumb crept back into his mouth, brushing against the cold metal of his braces, and he curled tighter, the scratchy material of his jeans starting to irritate him, as he slipped further and further. It was only a matter of time before something bad happened, so, desperately clinging to the last shreds of his adult mind, Tommy stumbled over to his closet, kicking off his jeans and baseball shirt in a frenzy of unstable movement.  

Once he was sure that it was all off, he glanced nervously toward the door, and quickly grabbed a bundle of material, throwing it onto the bed before someone could burst in and see it. Yanking a pair of shorts over his boxers, he quickly scurried back to the comfy area, hiding between the sheets as he fought his way into the other thing, a hoodie that was clearly multiple sizes too big, smelling of a foreign but comforting cologne. He’d picked it up from Wilbur’s bag the first night he had been here, thinking it had been his own, and had been reluctant to give it back upon discovering it, in fact, was not, something about how it made him feel small making it appealing.  

Flipping up the hood, so it fell over his eyes, Tommy giggled, flapping around the oversized sleeves in a childish manner, entertained by even the slightest of things in little space. By this point, his adult mind had entirely slipped away, replaced with the simple, cotton candy thoughts of the child Tommy now was. Confused as to why he was being so boring and lying round in bed all day, he pushed back his coverings with a smile, before gasping, looking around for Henry - his cow plush- in between the all-together too mature sheets. Black circles were just so grown up! Where were the dinosaurs? Or the racing cars!  

Temporarily distracted from his search by the thought of cars, Tommy gasped, running over to his cupboard, where he hid away all his colouring books, dragging out some nice-looking ones, and his big box of Crayola pens, giggling as they rattled noisily. Throwing them to the floor, Tommy lay down on his tummy across his rug, pushing up the too-long sleeves until he could see hs fingers. Wiggling them around, he couldn’t help but beam, it being such a silly movement, especially as they all bunched up to try picking up the slippery box of pens, only for it to bump back down. Kicking contentedly as he tried again, it wasn’t long before it was tipped upside down, the rainbow of colors spreading across the rug in a mess only a child could make, blues bouncing and reds rolling. In fact, every color other than pink.  

Not that Tommy noticed this lack, grabbing up his favourite colour, and flipping to a random page, cheering as it was a cool race car, with flames up the sides, all waiting to be coloured. Uncapping the pen with his teeth, he kept the lid in, chewing on the tip of it as he scribbled messily up and down the door of the car, smiling as it got bluer and bluer the more that he scribbled. Even if it didn’t particularly stay in the lines. Blue was nice, it was a boy’s color, like the sky, and the sea, and blue race cars that go nyoom! Will once said blue was a happy color, so that must mean it was good! Why else would he say it?  

It wasn’t like pink. Bleh, pink is a girl’s color, why would he want /that/? Pink was all flowers and dresses and bubblegum, blehhhh. Pulling a disgusted face, sticking his tongue out, which, in turn, made the lid fall out, Tommy shook his head. No, pink was most definitely not for a big boy like him. In his daydreaming, he hadn't heard the stairs creak, nor the tentative knock on the door, not realising as Tubbo crept into the room. “Hey, Tommy? Wilbur said we could ord- oh.” he started, before noticing his friend on the floor, surrounded by coloring pens. Tommy, spinning round at the familiar voice, smiled to see Tubbo, waving gently with his uncapped pen, but making no effort to get up, instead turning back to his coloring once he was done. “Well, I was gunna ask what pizza you wanted, but it’s ok, I'll just say pepperoni. Have fun with … what you’re doing.” Tubbo murmured, not wanting to disturb Tommy when he seemed so concentrated, instead shutting the door behind himself, and heading back down the stairs to where Wilbur was waiting on the sofa.

“Hey. What’d he say?” Will greeted, his laptop open to some takeout website, smiling gently as Tubbo relayed the information for pepperoni, before placing the order quickly. “Alright, that’s done, is he coming down?” he asked, shutting his laptop once he was done, just as Tubbo settled back in the armchair and picked up his switch. “Nah, he’s little.” he spoke simply, as if it was common knowledge, reopening his animal crossing island to keep fishing, like he had been. Confused, Wilbur tilted his head, brushing aside his hair as it flopped over his eyes, and let out a quiet “Huh?”, making Tubbo look up, and meet his eyes. “What do you mean little?” he asked, curiously, not understanding as the teen clammed up, looking mortified. “I shouldn’t have said that. I should /not/ have said that.” He muttered, hiding his red face behind the console. “It’s not my place to say.” he tried to wriggle out of the situation, but, with a stern look from Wilbur, he was pinned in place.  

“um...wow, how to put it...” he fidgeted in place, trying to find the words to explain to a rapidly more and more concerned WIlbur. “um...he’s thinking like a kid...not Tommy?” he tried, but, from the blank look he got back, he knew that wasn’t enough. “It’s...It’s like a response to stress? Or...or just cuz...?” he tried again, watching as Will nodded slowly. “Um...he’s coloring right now...i don’t think he wants to be bothered?” he interrupted, as Will stood, to go up the stairs. “I could...i could try to find a website to explain to you, if you wanted? I'm... I'm not too good at this.” Tubbo offered, reaching for his laptop, silently relieved as Wilbur sat back down.  

“That would be nice, actually, I'm lost.” He admitted, handing it over, and watching as Tubbo struggled to type out whatever he was trying to, eventually finding a page that seemed right. “Uh, it’s a Tumblr page but...i think it’s got the stuff on...” he mumbled, passing the brightly coloured page back over to him. Credit to him, as Tubbo watched on nervously, Will didn’t seem disgusted, reading with genuine intellectual curiosity, before sitting back. “Woah, okay. That’s intense.” He commented, letting out a deep exhale, and rubbing his eyes. “Why is he little, did you say?” he asked, but Tubbo froze. “I’m...i’m actually not sure. Tommy does it both ways, on purpose and not. Maybe the lore stream today? He did end quickly...” he commented mostly to himself, then rubbing his upper arm. “He normally comes and DMs me after if it’s been a hard stream though... maybe cuz you’re here, he didn’t want to talk about it?”  

Throwing out theories, Tubbo tried to hide his confusion and slight hurt that the little he liked to think of as his baby brother when he was in headspace, hadn't told him, chewing on his nails a little. “I do know he calls you his brother though...maybe he was shy in case you didn’t like him doing it?” he murmured, eyes flicking up to the bespectacled 24 year old watching with rapt attention. Luckily, he looked amused, adjusting his beanie. “Hey, it wouldn’t be the only time, I'm practically his older brother all the time.” He chuckled, casting an eye over the page still up on his screen. “It says here about something called...CGs?” he sounded tentative as he looked up to Tubbo again. “It does, and before you ask, No, he doesn’t have one. And yes, he really should, the chaotic doesn’t go down.” he replied, feeling a lot more comfortable now they could make fun of his friend again.  

“Should...should we head upstairs, go make sure he doesn’t like...set fire to something?” Will suggested, after a few moments of chuckling, right before a loud thump interrupted Tubbo’s beginning complaint. “Ok, Ok , maybe that’s a good idea.” he smiled, putting his switch to the side before standing. “I’ll go warn him.” He held out a hand to stop Will mounting the steps before him, smiling as he feigned offense. “Trust me, you wanna prepare for this, he might still be Tommy, but he’s... different.” Running up the stairs, best as he could, with the nerves he now had in every vein, he quickly pushed open the door, to see the little tugging at a stuffed animal wedge in a cardboard box. Carefully pulli ng it out, he easily identified it as Henry, pushing it into Tommy’s arms with a smile. “I have a surprise for you, Toms, you ready?” he asked, keeping his voice gentle as Tommy nodded enthusiastically. “Awe, good!”  

Awkward, shuffling footsteps were the only indicator Will was coming in, before he rounded the corner, with a small smile. “H-Hi Tommy.” his arms were held awkwardly in front of him, crossed across his chest like he didn’t know how to react. But it wasn’t too much of an issue, since, as soon as he saw Wilbur, Tommy jumped to his feet, running to him. “Wilby!” he cheered, hugging him tightly. “Missed chu!” he grinned, as Will hesitantly pet his hair. “Uh, hey kid, whatchu up to?” he asked, as Tubbo watched on with a soft smile, perching on the bed.  “I heard you were coloring?” he asked, looking to the teen for confirmation, as he nodded enthusiastically again, and dropped to his knees, grabbing his pens to keep going.  

“Yeah! Iz blu!” he smiled, thrusting a cyan pen to the elder one. Carefully sitting down between him and the wall, Wilbur smiled and nodded. “You’re right, it is blue. Do you like blue?” Clearly that was the right question, since Tommy started speaking, so fast they could barely get a word in edgewise, about the color, kicking his legs happily as he started to scribble again, starting to color in the fire on the side of the car now, under the watchful eye of his friends.  

Furrowing his brow slightly at the missing color, Will spoke up, after some small humming being the only thing to break the silence. “Hey, Toms, where’s your pink?” he wondered aloud, jumping slightly as Tommy shouted a “No!”, rather vehement. “No,no, no! Pink for /girls/.” he mumbled, when Will shushed him. Curious, he tilted his head, his hair falling agin, and ‘hmm’d  slightly. “Pink isnt a girl’s color, Tommy, what makes you think that?” he didn’t understand, not even as Tommy sent him a disbelieving face. “Pink...pink for princess” he struggled to explain, making Tubbo nod quietly from where he sat.  “But, I like pink, Toms, am I a princess?” he chimed in, taken aback as Tommy giggled, and nodded. “P’incess tubby!” he smiled, making Wilbur chuckle and nod. “That’s right, kid, Toby’s a princess now.” watching the teen stand and mockingly spin around, before carefully bopping Tommy’s head, like a fairy. “ding, ding, Tommy is now a kid!” he laughed, moving over to the cupboard that usually housed the colouring, pulling out a shameful looking pink tub, and placing it on the floor beside the kid. “Let’s try these ones too, huh?” Will prompted, picking up a pastel pink, and doodling a small flower in the corner.  

Tommy nodded, gently, slipping a little, pink pacifier into his mouth when nobody was looking, and hesitantly choosing a maroon pen, trying a clumsy smiley face, soon joined by tubbo doodling a bee, of course. Laughing, Will tried another flower, and a heart, wanting to keep what he did simple, making Tommy smile as a little of the ink went over his fingers. Catching the pen before he tried to draw on his own face, Will tutted gently at Tommy, his new little friend. His little...brother? Before they realised it, the scribbly car had been overshadowed by their doodles, Tommy having branched out into pink the more his friends didn’t seem to mind it being there, slowly smiling more and more, until he was giggling loud and free, fully convinced now, that Pink was, in fact, not a girl’s color.  

[ri-ahhh]

Can we have some sexy time with gray that stars out rough but ends up soft and cute🥺

I’m gonna make it a continuation of this concept bc low key it’s one of my faves and yk.. why not.

Also I was gonna try to finish this on my laptop so I could put the keep reading break so I don’t clog ppls dashes but tumblr never fucking works on there and I couldn’t do it :/ sorry

A/N: hi hello just finished writing this and it turned out to be garbage but I wanted to post something for the ppl asking. If you are one of those ppl I’m sorry for this haha truly it was just the best I could do for now.

***

For the first half of the ride home, Grayson’s hand doesn’t leave your thigh. You can feel the tension still brewing in him in the way his calloused fingers grip the soft, bare skin; in the heavy sighs he releases every few minutes and the sudden revs of the engine as he speeds down the highway.

His lingering frustrations at the situation that happened in the mall make you smile softly, and you interlace your fingers with the ones stroking your thigh. Eyes big and sympathetic, you bring the back of his hand to your lips. “Baby, relax,” your murmur against his skin quietly. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

Grayson shakes his head and glances at you as he pulls your joined hands into his lap. “I fuckin hate guys like that. Can’t believe he put his hands on you.”

“He touched you?” Ethan piped up from the backseat, voice incredulous. “Oh, fuck that. If that has been K...”

The short remainder of the car ride was filled with the twins loud, enthusiastic rants about douchebag chauvinistic men who have no respect for women. It warms your heart, makes your chest fill with pride at the thought of how good your man really is. You squeeze his hand and stroke his arm gently, dragging your nails up and down the veins popping out from the stress and anger he’s both somehow releasing, but also still carrying.

The three of you make it home, and Ethan is immediately hopping out of the car with his shopping bags, eager to see his girlfriend and show her what he had bought her while she had been out with friends. Grayson’s jaw is clenched as the two of you follow his brother inside, and you make your way immediately to his room; you think you know exactly what he needs to get rid of that last bit of well-intended machismo energy he’s got in him.

Sure enough, Grayson shuts the door behind him with a little more force than he really intended, tosses all the shopping bags he had carried in for you to the ground, and wraps those strong arms around your waist in all of two seconds of the door being locked. You giggle and let him hoist you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and cupping his stubbled cheeks in your hands gently to bring your lips together.

He walks the two of you to his bed and lays you down as gently as he can while you’re still clinging to him, mouths never separating as he captures your lips over and over again in hot, relentless kisses. When your back hits the mattress, you moan softly and hitch your leg higher up his side, his hand sliding to your ass and grabbing a handful of it through your shorts.

“I need you,” he says gruffly between kisses, panting heavily. He squeezes your cheek again, and uses his grip to haul your hips closer to his while simultaneously lowering some of his weight onto you. You can feel the hard ridge of him against your center, and it makes you gasp. “Can I, please?”

“Yeah, baby,” you agree easily, almost as desperate for Grayson now as he is for you. He’s sexy and kind and good and you love him, and you imagine the scenario of some girl running her hands on those thick arms you love so much, or the swell of his abs over his shirt, and you realize the healthy possessiveness very much runs both ways. Your blood runs hot, and you slip your hands under his shirt to feel the rippling planes of his back. “Want you so bad.”

He growls, deep and primal, and you bite your lip as he sits up and whips his shirt over his head by the collar. It gets tossed blindly to the corner of his room, and you’re instantly reaching out to run your hands over all those muscles covered by soft, tan skin.

Grayson sighs and lets you indulge for a few moments, his lips quirking up at the corners for a quick second and ruining that sexy scowl as he watches you admire him.

“Fuck,” he mumbles. His big, warm hands cup your hips, and he shuffles down some as he slides your oversized shirt up so your stomach becomes exposed for him — supple skin that’s just begging to be kissed.

So he does. His lips are soft and a little wet from the kisses you had shared just a minute ago, but they’re hot and insistent as he makes his way up your torso. Goosebumps flare in their wake, and you shudder beneath his smirk. Grayson pushes your shirt up further, just beneath your bra now, fingers shifting grips from the dips of your waist to the ridges of your rib cage now.

You don’t need words to know what he wants, so you lift your arms overhead the second he bunches the shirt up past your tits. His tongue drags over your sternum once it’s thrown across the room, then he’s swiping it over the buds of your nipples peaking through the sheer mesh of your bra.

Your back arches up into him with a gasp, fingers delving into his thick hair as he grunts and tugs the cups of your bra aside to free your tits for him. Your nipples tighten even more, damp from his tongue and now completely exposed to the cool air of his room — not to mention, the way he’s looking at you right now has every nerve ending in your body excited.

His pretty hazel irises, usually so soft and comforting, are consumed now by the dark of his pupils, despite the warm sunlight shining through the window. Those smoldering eyes stay locked on yours as he ducks his head to suck your left nipple into his hot, wet mouth, his hand kneading your other breast roughly.

“Love your tits,” he huffs against you after a minute of making you writhe beneath him. His tongue trails to the center of your chest, and he nuzzles your cleavage, breathing in the sweet smell of your skin. His stubble scratches against the plush, delicate flesh there, but it’s a mere second before he’s switching breasts to give each the opposite treatment.

You lose his eyes when he shuts them to really absorbe the touch and taste of you, but you don’t mind when he smells so good and feels so familiar and uses those lips and tongue and fingers so fucking good. You whimper and clutch him even closer to you than he already is, perfectly content to have him suck at your tits for as long as he pleases. The feel of him big and heavy and warm on top of you is as relaxing as it is arousing, being so consumed by the sensations of him up top while his erection fits snugly against your pussy.

“Grayson,” you whisper desperately. He looks up at you, and you’re taken by the softness behind the desire in his gaze. He follows the tug on his hair you give to drag him up for a kiss, and you both sigh happily into one another’s mouths when they reconnect. It goes without saying that you could kiss this man forever.

You tighten your legs around his waist and and urge him to rock his hips into yours. Grayson obliges readily, a quiet grunt escaping his lips as he starts grinding into you. His hand returns to your ass, holding you against him for the perfect leverage while he sucks on your tongue and tries to find the right angle to put just the right pressure on your clit.

It’s like any moment of softness and slowness gives him time to remember what got the two of you here this afternoon in the first place, and the ravenous energy from before picks right back up. You’re definitely not complaining by the ebb and flow of everything; it only heightens your own desperation for him, to know he cares so much and wants you to the point of making you cum just from some heavy dry humping.

As if he can read your mind (or maybe you his), Grayson pulls away from the kiss and drags his free hand up your thigh, squeezes your waist, and punches your nipple on his way to grip your cheeks gently but firmly in those strong, calloused fingers. He makes sure you’re looking him dead in the eye again when he tells you in a deep, rumbly voice, “Wanna make you cum in these fucking shorts. Can you cum for me, baby?”

You nod as best you can in his grasp, shifting your head enough to slip his pointer finger into your mouth. You watch him watch you suck it, his hips pressing harder into yours as the pleasure and overall arousal turns up for both of you. His cheeks are flushed and his chain dangles between you, glinting in the sun and reflecting bright spots on the tan skin of his pecs.

A moan escapes you, vibrating around his finger before you add the middle one for a few moments, too. You let him push them down your tongue until the tips touch the back of your throat, and you pull them out with a slight gag and a seductive smile.

“Make me cum,” you murmur hotly, guiding his hand between your bodies and slipping it past your waistband — leaving the shorts with that little logo on the leg on, just as he requested. “I’m so close already, Gray. Please.”

Grayson moans himself and shifts his weight so you’re flat on your back and he’s hovering over you with a hand planted next to your pillow. He touches your pussy for the first time this whole afternoon just as you arch your back to reach beneath you and unhook your bra.

You fling the useless garment across the room and grab immediately onto his forearm by your head, the other clutching the sheets in attempts to ground yourself from the sudden surge in pleasure emanating from your clit. Grayson circles it a couple of times before sliding one, then two, fingers to the hilt.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking wet, baby,” he groans. You can only nod and moan, then cry out his name when he curls his fingers just right and finds your spot, like he knew right where to look and wanted to waste no time getting to it. He latches onto your neck, sucking a bruise into your pulse point while he builds that wave inside you. His fingers don’t pump in and out, but stay hooked on that spot that’s making you moan and whine, using his wrist to vary the pressure on it until you’re absolutely losing it, exploding on his hand with broken whimpers of his name.

You’re still high in the sky when he sucks his fingers in his mouth with an appreciative moan and tugs off your shorts finally, then his own, before crawling back on top of you. Naked together and still riding the lingering aftermath of that orgasm, you hum contentedly and accept the hot, desperate kiss he pulls you into.

“Wanna fuck you. Need to fuck you,” he mumbles against your lips, already reaching between you to rub the tip of his dick up and down your soaking wet folds. Even though you’re still sensitive and satisfied, almost nothing can bring you back to a stare of pure arousal like when he teases your hole like that — so close but not enough. It awakens this primal, incessant feeling of absolutely needing to be filled up, and you can’t wait anymore.

You thread your fingers through the back of his hair and arch your hips to encourage him to slip inside, which he finally does with a guttural groan.

“Fuckin give it to me, Gray,” you say once he has a steady rhythm built up. It’s not enough for either of you today, though, and you both know it. You need closer, hotter, harder, more.

Grayson looks wild, his hair sticking up in all directions from your wandering hands, eyes dark but bright, a thin sheen of sweat illuminating ever ridge and valley of muscles on his torso. He doesn’t give you much more time to look, however, as he hooks your knees over his elbows and leans down over your body.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and he tucks his face against your own as he starts pounding, his balls slapping against you ass with every hard thrust. The angle is catching you just right and the sharp, pleasurable pain of his teeth sinking into your collarbone only brings everything to a new level. His quiet but audible grunts and moans float right to your ear, the best sounds in the world as he delivers exactly what you asked for.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whine, digging your nails into the sinews of his back. Grayson keeps driving into you with renewed purpose, absolutely set on getting you there again with nothing more than his cock.

“Yes, baby, please,” he begs, groaning loudly when he feels you start to clamp down on him. “That’s it... all over my dick... pussy feels so goddamn good.”

You should be sleepy and beyond satisfied at this point, but his heated words make you want to absolutely ravage him. With that, there’s the glow only a couple of amazing orgasms from the man you love can make you feel that fills your chest. So when you’re able to voluntarily move your limbs again, you push back on his chest so he has to stop sucking sweet little kisses into the collumn of your neck. He looks at you a little confused, but you just smile gently and keep putting pressure against him until he ends up on his back.

You settle between his tattooed legs and admire the way his dick lies flat against that solid tummy of his, glistening with your juices. Your mouth waters at the sight, and you take him in your hand to guide his throbbing length between your kiss-swollen lips.

You suck your cum off his skin, humming in satisfaction while you watch him lay back with one hand behind his head and the other petting your hair gently.

“Love your dick,” you say before sucking the leaking tip into your mouth. “Only want yours, baby. Just made me cum so hard...” you trail off with a wanton moan, then get to work sucking him off for real. His eyes fall shut and his fingers work deeper into the loose strands of your hair for a firmer grip. You roll his balls in your palm, pulling out all the tricks you know he loves to get him there as well as he did for you. “Mine.”

He guides you deeper with the hand on your head, never pushing more than he know you’re willing to take; he loves the tangible feeling of that sweet mouth sucking him off, taking him as far down your throat as you can. You make it sloppy for him, letting all the drool and saliva coat his shaft until it’s dripping down his balls. You lift off him with a gasp and massage the slick into his skin before ducking down and sucking them one at a time into your mouth for a tongue bath while you jerk his dick off above you.

You can hear the hitch in his breath, see the short heaves of his chest when you follow the pressure he pulls on your hair in silent request to get you to suck him again. All signs point to him being about to bust, but you want more than his cum in your mouth.

You hurry to mount him, smiling when you catch his look of surprise. He moans as you sink down on him, and you pick up his hands to interlace your fingers for intimacy and leverage.

“Cum inside me,” you tell him, bouncing on him so your tits jiggle for him.

Grayson watches as long as he can, holding out until his eyes roll back and his fingers dig into the backs of your hands as he fills you up with deep, drawn-out moans. You grin in satisfaction, happily obliging him when he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you down so your chests are flush together.

You hum as he comes down and pepper kisses across his jaw, his nose, his closed eyes. Any bit of that handsome face you love so much that you can reach with your lips gets a sweet peck. Grayson sighs and lets you keep going until he’s gripping your hips and lifting you off his softening cock.

“Sorry if I got too caveman,” he mumbles tiredly after a few moments. “I just love you.”

You shake your head and bury your grin into his neck. “No need to apologize. Actually, I can’t wait to go back to that store with you. I still want those leggings.”

“Fuck off.”

[myelocin]

tomato sauce for hello, and mornings for i love you

synopsis: “you are the who, love is the what, and this is the why.”

genre: fluff | wc: 2,300+

characters: konoha akinori

this is why i need you | jesse ruben

a/n: HALLOW??? HALLOWWW?????? @gg9183 MY ANGEL MY LOVE HAPPIEST BIRTHDAY TO U we will ignore the fact that i am late i meant to post this yst but my laptop updated and i didnt save a fat chunk of this LOL. (speech aside) i love you. konoha loves u. i’m in this corner of the world blowing a candle for u and cheering u on always. happy birthday my best girl <3

-

It’s a good day to love you today.

Konoha’s up by seven, then at the grocery store by seven forty-five. A quick breakfast in the car: just a bottle of orange juice and a bag of chips that he just knows you’ll scold him for.

Pick up the balloons after heading to the bakery, then finding a way to somehow sneak all of what he has prepared in the house before you wake up. He smiles, delighting in the thought of another year with you.

Three birthdays together, a little apartment situated close to the city, and a multitude of inside jokes that would piss off Bokuto on the days he feels excluded. You snicker with him when he whispers his commentary towards you in the theaters, and he’ll do the same when you critique how the popcorn tastes that day.

There’s a lot of unknowns that balance what keeps the joy afloat, he thinks. He doesn’t know what to say when calling the doctor for his yearly checkup, and he doesn’t know how to counter the what-if scenarios the two of you usually talk about.

Sitting in his car, he chuckles. The rush hour of the morning borders unforgivable today, and while he could have sat still in his car, grumbling about the inconvenience, he settles for huffing towards it instead—defining factors like that as one of the inevitables in life.

So he thinks of you.

He left the house a little before sunrise, with you still asleep in bed. On the left side, wrapped in 75% of the blankets, with the plush cradled in between your arms. Some days he regrets winning that for you. While you said the expression on the hamster’s face mirrors his when he’s coming home from a rough day at work, it’s also the same plush that’s usually sandwiched in-between the two of you every time he tries to hold you at night.

Some days it’s like that, but today, he’s thankful it’s there to keep you company while he’s out here.

He’s always heard about the things people do for love, and while in the beginning he was never one to believe in its influence, as he catches a glimpse of himself on the rearview mirror, he laughs. There’s at least ten paper bags from the grocery store—all of which are meant just for breakfast, and a box with the god-awful hot pink wrapping paper he couldn’t have changed at the very last minute.

It’ll have to make do, he supposes. Slip ups happen sometimes, and in love, perfection is only a far-fetched dream.

In youth, love is make believe. Love is the ice cream truck that passed by his street every afternoon, and the coins his mother would leave out on the kitchen table for him just enough to treat himself. Love is the stories and the idea that he’d find a hand to hold and squeeze tight, even if all the boys in class would roll their eyes and stay away from the cooties.

Love is good.

Then as it stays good, love becomes great.

He learns of that the second he turned twenty and met you on aisle three of the grocery store at 2 in the morning. Pyjama bottoms, hair in a bun, and you’re squinting at the labels—trying to decide whether to get chocolate or vanilla for the frosting.

He said his hello then, because love at that time was also the three second push that came into his life as a show of brevity.

Konoha eases off the brakes, letting the car roll for a good couple of meters before slowly coming into a stop again—the traffic still present.

With a sigh, he resorts to tapping on the steering wheel and reliving through the memories again. He had no game then, he realizes. He approached you with half of the pickup line he plucked from reddit jumbled up as he said it, and he had a tomato sauce stain on his shirt.

Now that he thinks about it, he looked a little sleazy.

But the world has its ways of redefining what it means to be perfect, he supposes. What happened after was you turned your head, two tubs of frosting on either of your hands, and a smile already cracking its way through the prior confusion on your face.

And shit, he remembers, that’s all it took for him to realize that perhaps this is what they mean about the great that comes with the redefinition of love.

From then, you became a fixture of his every day. Three years since tomato sauce stains and your icing dilemma, he still learns more and more about you, finding home and falling in love as the days go by.

So today is a good day to love you.

Your third birthday you’re celebrating with him, and he’s in his car crawling his way through the traffic with a jar of tomato sauce and two kinds of canned icing in the paperbags in the back seat just to commemorate the first hello.

Tapping his finger against the steering wheel, he smiles. There’s a comfort in knowing that you’re headed home. Back to you, back to love.

He hopes that god awful plush is keeping you warm, Konoha thinks with a smile. Then with a laugh, he steps his foot off the brakes again, the world letting what’s there flow as motion comes once more and eases him into the road that brings him closer to you.

-

An hour later, he’s trudging up the stairs.

To be fair, in the parking lot he did try to think of at least a speech to present to you. Perhaps the classic ‘I love you, babe. Happy birthday,’ followed by a suave look, a bouquet of flowers, and breakfast in bed. He smirks, knowing even though blunt sentimentality has never been you nor his’ style when it comes to communication, you always had a soft spot for the moments where he did remind you that his love will always have the intention to stay.

Staring infront of the door, all it takes to put himself together is a deep breath, an honest smile, and just like that, he’s good to go.

Cake in hand and the strings to the balloon pinched in between his fingers, he nudges the door open, trying to be quiet as he cranes his neck and listens for noise inside the house. Delighting in the silence, he makes his way in, careful so he doesn’t disturb the peace.

Mornings have always been easy with you.

You wake up around the same time as he does, and breakfast is always shared at a table for two. Easy conversation, sleepy smiles, and little chuckles sprinkled before the beginning of the day is kickstarted.

Konoha smiles. There’s a cake with a smiley face iced in the center and a bouquet with all your favorite blooms in tow. A whole lot of love is the product of the bits built one on top of the other from the everyday that remains his—though it’s as much as yours too.

There’s love found in home, three years shown within, and the subtle promise of a lifetime in the presence that stays.

“You know,” a voice jolts him. Konoha, wide eyed, turns towards the kitchen, quickly spotting you.

You’re sat in your usual spot by the window, a bowl of cereal in front of you, and his hoodie wrapped around your frame. You smirk at him, spoon in hand, eyes to him. “If you’re going to surprise me, you could have probably pulled it off if you didn’t have a whole concert in the shower.”

His tongue pokes his cheek, the red on his face displayed in full colors because of how bright the morning is. “Last night you said you were sleeping in, so I figured you’d be knocked the fuck out till 10 or something.”

“That was the plan,” you laugh, shifting your eyes back down to your breakfast and scooping up a bite.

You hear a huff, then when you turn to him, you smile again. Konoha’s standing a little awkwardly in the middle of the living room now. His Donald Duck house slippers on, and his socks aren’t even matching. On top of the paper bags on the table, he’s still trying his hand at balancing the cake, bouquet, and strings from the balloon in his hand.

He’s looking at anywhere but towards you.

Laughing softly under your breath, you throw him a lifeline. “Want me to turn around and have you clean up your entrance so that I can pretend to be surprised when you say happy birthday?”

When you look back up, he’s already made it halfway across the living room, just now stepping into the kitchen to plop down on the seat in front of you. Puffing his cheeks, he sets the boxes down on the clear end of the table and leans forward. Meeting him halfway, you smile as he presses a quick kiss on your temple.

In laughter, he eases into love. “Happy birthday,” he smiles.

Smiling along with him, you hold out the spoonful you meant to give to yourself in offering towards him. “Morning.”

Even though he’s a little disappointed he couldn’t pull off the surprise, the smile on his face is still cheeky when he faces you. Mornings are easy, he thinks again, because love is.

“I can still cook for you,” he offers, taking the fork from your hand and reaching in the bowl to pick at the bits of fruit instead of the actual cereal.

You quirk a brow in his direction. “By that do you mean you’ll just plate the takeout you got and hide the boxes so you can tell me you cooked for me?”

“Will that impress you?” Konoha laughs, the smile on his face easy.

“Depends,” you shrug. “What kinda takeout did you get?” Peering into the boxes he tries to shield with his body, he eventually moves away with a laugh when you swat him on the shoulder and poke him to the side. “Was anything even open this early?”

He points the fork with the slice of strawberry in your direction, his face smug. “I ordered in advance.”

Narrowing your eyes, you lean forward and take a bite, laughing when he gives you a look for biting the piece you don’t doubt he’s been eyeing for a while now.

You snort, recalling the memory of him hunched over the desk the other night, shooing you away everytime you’d enter the room. “Tell me you didn’t bother that poor auntie at 11 in the evening just for this?”

He looks away, eyes closed. “I’m a resourceful man.”

“She’s in her sixties and 11 is probably three hours past her bedtime!” you laugh.

Konoha looks at you anyway, smiling. “But are you happy I got you your pastries?”

Eyeing the box, it doesn’t take much for love to resettle into peace again, your joy quickly mirroring his. “You drove all the way there for me?”

“Always for you,” he responds, like it’s the most obvious thing.

You reach forward and pinch his cheek, finding love in the silly bits of him too. “But you always complain about how annoying it is to drive this early in the morning. I know rush hour’s a bitch,” you try to reason.

He shakes his head. “I know. But it’s your day.”

“You drove there last week too when I was craving,” you mutter. Konoha crosses his arms one over the other, and leans his head against it down on the table. Looking through his lashes and up at you, he beams. “That’s because I love you.”

Poking through a bigger piece of fruit from your bowl, you bring the fork towards him, until it’s just barely poking at his lips. “You know, you’re really sweet when you’re decided.”

Accepting the strawberry, Konoha suppresses a chuckle. “I’m always decided when it comes to you, what do you mean?”

Shrugging, you sift through the contents of your bowl, looking for more slices of fruit. You’ll add more next time, you note in the back of your mind. He smiled more when he ate the strawberries instead of the initial blueberry.

“I also got tomato sauce and icing,” he admits, tilting his head to the paper bags still on the coffee table in the living room. “To commemorate hello.”

“So you’re a poet now, I see,” you tease.

“I can be a lot of things in this life.”

You tilt your head. “Like?”

“I’ll tell you once I think about more things that impress you the most.”

You smile. “Just be Akinori.”

He smiles again, love written along the peace in his expression. “Deal.”

“It’s nice to be loved,” you tell him, eyeing the bouquet with the blooms and the cake with the smiley face peeking through the window of the box.

“Because I love you, that’s why,” he replies.

Morning is easy.

A table for two, light conversation, and a history lived and loved even though silence tends to resettle in the room from time to time. Memory relished through love and the flow of the day nurturing enough for him to delight in the moment and feel at ease because this is the kind of love that’s meant to stay kind for a lifetime.

“Happy birthday,” he smiles, and when you look at him, he thanks his lucky stars for that three second rush of brevity that pushed him to begin love with a hello.

 -

ily always <3

[lanuvolanera]

Sept 19th - Cofession

Chapter 1

My first ever fanfic, lads, be nice and enjoy.

---------

Coming out of Casper High mid afternoon, Danny and Tucker made their way down the school steps. Students trickled out the front doors in small groups and split their own ways as the duo began their trek to Fenton works.

"Man, I'm glad Sam didn't come today." Danny said, grasping his backpack strap slung over his shoulder.

"I know, right? She would've been miserable." Tucker replied, pocketing his PDA with a light frown on his face.

The day went well. Steady, in fact. They seemed to have kept off of Dash's radar and stayed on Mr Lancer's good side with the English assignment. Not to mention that it was pizza day at the cafeteria, the only good thing that the cooks knew how to make. Yeah, today wasn't so bad, it just felt empty without Sam by their side.

"She should be feeling better by tomorrow, right?"

"Honestly, I think she'll take the rest of the week off. If it wasn't for that ghost..."

"Oh god, don't remind me, I still feel awful." Danny said with a look of mild horror, still traumatised from the night before.

A pause in their conversation prompted more memories from last night.

Phantom, two feet above the ground, felt paralysed as he looked on and watched as Tucker ducked undercover from the ectoblasts firing in all directions from what looked like a regular bedsheet type ghost, only this one was different, this one screeched and wailed and gnawed it's black teeth, blood dripping from its mouth, staining its torso.

"We'll give her a call tonight, see how she's doing." Tucker said, dragging Danny out of his thoughts.

"Or we could head over, see how she's doing in person?"

"Or we could leave her be and let her rest."

Danny didn't like that idea, he was worried and felt guilty and ashamed that he couldn't prevent her injury. As minor as it was, she couldn't find the strength to come to school the next day, when he'd hoped to apologise again and ask how she's doing again and to offer her anything she needs again. He made his mind up right then.

"I'll fly over tonight then, when everyone's gone to bed."

"Sure, don't forget to bring her homework and tell her you love her."

"What?" Danny gasped in shock, a deep red blush covering his cheeks.

"Nothing." Tucker looked away with a sheepish grin and quickly changed the topic.

"We still need to do some research about last night's ghost, I've downloaded some pdf's which I'll send to you and Sam to see if there are other ways to dispell it if the thermos didn't work."

They turn the corner and can see the large Fenton works sign in the distance, two blocks away.

"Race you." Danny smirked, and sprinted off before Tucker had a chance to realise what was happening.

With a loud "hey!" from Tucker in the background, Danny slowed as he neared the steps to his front door and tried the handle, locked. Hmm, his parents are out, Jazz would still be at school studying in the library, looks like he and Tucker have the house to themselves. Danny pulls out his keys and unlocks the door just as Tucker catches up out of breath.

"That's cheating, you had a head start." He pants.

"Come on, the computer in the lab is free, go down and fire it up while I get some coffee brewing."

"Sounds like a plan."

-------------‐-------------------------------------------------

Later that night, Danny flew Tucker back to his house.

They soared through the night sky, clear and full of stars, street lamps illuminating the buildings below them, his best friends arm slung over phantoms shoulders.

"Look, all I'm saying is if we go back tomorrow, what if we make things worse, pissed it off even more. If its trapped there like we think, what harm will it do if we leave it alone?"

"It's different though, what if when we found it there, we let it loose?"

"If we did then don't you think we would've seen it again by now?"

"I don't want to chance it, we need to find a way to deal with it permanently."

"Don't tell me you're going back there by yourself."

"No, I'm going to Sam's, like I said."

"You'd better."

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

Once he'd said his goodbyes to Tucker, and reassured him he wasn't going to do something wreckless, Danny took off into the air once more and set course for Sam's House.

With a backpack full with his thermos, his laptop, his phone, both his and Sam's maths homework, a couple of pens, pencils, markers and 2 cans of Sam's favorite soda, Danny sped across the rooftops when a blue puff of cold air burst it's way past his lips.

"Of course, I thought it was too quiet tonight."

Taking a quick glance of his surroundings, there was nothing to be seen in the empty streets. A brief pause, his breath held in his lungs, then glass crashing from a shop window a few blocks down caught Danny's attention.

Cackling laughter and bursts of light flashed from the window, Danny wasted no time reaching the building, turning himself intangible and flew through the ceiling.

"Oh, come on! What the hell are you doing here? In a pet store of all places?"

....

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

Danny finally arrived at his destination. Peaking through the window to find Sam laying on her bed, light from her laptop illuminating her face, in her black pyjamas and a cast on her leg.

He knocked on the glass, and smiled as Sam startled.

Waving him in, he floated through the glass and landed with a soft thump on the plush carpet, and settled on the edge of her bed.

"Hey, how're you feeling?" Danny said with concern in his voice.

"Fine. Hey, you need to sign my cast." Sam says with a playful smirk. Danny half expected her to be more upset about being injured, or at least, as upset as he is.

After the escape from the warehouse the night before, with Sam cradled in his arms and Tucker following not too far behind, all Danny could think was this was all his fault. Sam got injured because of him, because he was too late, too late to swoop in and protect her from the falling scaffolding from the ghost fight, that cost her her ability to run to safety. He's the hero, isn't he? And he couldn't save her from something as simple as falling debris? What kind of hero-

"Danny-"

Sam could see the distraught look on Danny's face and he caught himself looking down at her cast. It could've been a lot worse, but still.

Danny looks up at her, he needs to confess.

"I'm sorry, Sam, I'm sorry you got hurt, I should've been more careful-"

"Hey, don't worry about it, these things happen, right? It could've been a lot worse."

"I know, I keep telling myself that, but still-"

"But still, we need to figure out a way to get rid of that ghost, I've been doing some research on this specific type of ghost and I've read through the files Tucker sent me, and I think I have a good idea on what we're working with."

Sam brings the laptop closer and turns it around for Danny to see pages upon the screen filled with information from different historic and religious sites.

"Does it say anything about why the thermos didn't work?" He asked playfully. Of course, the Fenton thermos only being a recent invention, there wouldn't be any information that hasn't been put online by the Fentons themselves indicating its presence in the ghost hunting community across the globe. Sure, there have been other containment methods but for this particular ghost, the best method would be to remove it from this plane entirely instead of just bottling it up.

Other pages on the screen suggest cleansing treatments of the haunted area using a mixture of herbs, minerals and rituals, witchcraft. If that could work, maybe the Fentons have other means of ghost study to pursue, if they believed in that sort of thing, of course.

"Hoestly, this stuff is giving me a headache, I need a break."

"Good thing I have just what you need." Danny says, reaching for his backpack.

He pulls out his own laptop, the 2 cans of soda and their homework, which Sam gives a mild look of disgust.

"Great."

"You don't look at all enthused." Danny says with a cheeky smile, and pops open his can, passing the other one over to Sam who takes it gratefully.

A small awkward pause later and Sam has to snap Danny back to reality again.

"Look, I know you think this is your fault, so here's my obligatory I'm-not-a-damsel-in-distress talk, we're a team, we'll sort this out, and we can forget about it."

"It's not just that, I don't know, it's just that- I don't think I'll be able to forget about it. There's something about this ghost, it's terrifying." Danny says, setting his can aside.

"I know, ugly too." Sam smiles as Danny looks up, he remembers what Tucker said to him earlier.

Tell her you love her.

"I don't think I'd be able to live with myself if something happened to you, I couldn't imagine my life without you."

At this, Sam sits up and puts her can on her bedside table. They're face to face with each other now.

"I couldn't imagine my life without you either, and you're right, that ghost is terrifying, even more of a reason to fight it."

Tell her.

"This ghost fight seems to be putting things into perspective."

You love her.

"I know what you mean."

They don't know when they got closer, or when they started leaning in.

Danny lightly brushes his fingers across her cheek, tilting her head just so, and presses his lips to hers.

It's a little awkward at first, spending a few seconds in that position. Then someone, or maybe both, adjust their lips, and oh.

Oh wow.

The sensation is amazing, sparks running down their spines and they readjust again, and again.

Their arms begin to wrap around each other and oh god, they're actually making out, kissing. They don't even realise they've fallen onto their sides on the bed, eyes squeezed shut applying and reapplying firm presses of their lips together.

They stay that way for a few moments, or is it lifetimes, when a tune came from the bedside table.

They pull apart, dazed red faces inches from each other, before Sam sits up and grabs her phone.

"It's Tucker."

She answers.

"Hey, Sam, I know you're busy recovering and all and I know it's late but I think I have a lead."

"That's great, what've you got?"

"I've found a review online about a book at the town hall library, if we can get it checked out tomorrow we might be able to find a way to exorcise this ghost."

Sam and Danny look at each other with hope.

"What's the title?"

"Ghost hunting for dummies."

"Be serious."

"I'll make you laugh one day, I swear."

"Tucker."

"It's called 'witchcraft untold', there are only 2 copies in town, the other is at the 'Skulk and Lurke'. The review made it sound like a work of fiction, and maybe it is, who knows? But I think it's worth checking out."

Sam makes a mental note of the title. There are a few books she's planning on checking out, some including cultural and religious beliefs on the undead, magic and pagan rituals, and scientific findings surrounding ghosts. If this book Tucker mentioned is as promising as it sounds, things could be looking up.

"I've been meaning to go to the 'Skulk and Lurke' tomorrow anyway, so I'll keep an eye out for it."

"Thats great, we'll talk more later, get some rest."

" I will do, see you later, Tuck."

"See you, and say hi to Danny for me!"

Click.

They glance at each other, and Danny moves to stand up.

"I should get going, um..."

"Yeah, you're gonna need some rest too if we're gonna face this ghost tomorrow night."

"We?"

"Yeah?"

"No."

"What?"

Danny couldn't believe he had to say this.

"Sam, you're injured, there's no way I'm letting you come along..."

"You're not 'letting' me do anything, I'm going. We still need to figure out a plan before then anyway, when I get a chance to check out that book."

The air surrounding them starts to tense.

"How am I supposed to fight this ghost and protect you at the same time? Or have you already forgotten about last night?"

"Excuse me? Have you forgotten what I said only ten minutes ago? I'm not letting you go off and play hero all by yourself!"

"That is not-"

"Save it. I can take care of myself."

"Fine, I'll call you in the morning."

"Fine."

And with that, Danny turns towards the window and lifts off, phases through, and rises into the night sky.

[caffeinatedbraincell]

Hi y’all I’m back with another TOG story! 

Summary: Joe and Nicky raise a duckling together during their time off. They're great parents and the ducking is very cute, and absolutely nothing sad or angsty happens because we all deserve some undiluted serotonin.

(Edit: Forgot to tag earlier, inspired by this post by @silly-old-guard-aus <3)

Read on AO3

“How are they?” Joe asked, smiling softly as he held the phone to his ear.

On the other end, Booker ran a hand through his hair fretfully. “I don’t know them like you do, obviously. But I- ah, I don’t know, this might be presumptuous of me. But I think they’re gonna be alright.”

“You know Andy well.”

“Yeah, but not Quynh. This is my first time meeting Quynh.”

“How did she react?”

“She didn’t cry in front of me. Didn’t even yell. Andy broke down instantly, but not Quynh. I told her Andy was mortal now, and then I left. I thought maybe it would be easier for them to be vulnerable with each other if I wasn’t around. Do you think Andy will be safe?”

“Yes. She is always safe with Quynh.”

“But Quynh was so angry.”

“She has every right to be angry. Even though it is not Andy’s fault. Andy knows this. Their love is many millennia old, Booker. These past 500 years will not break them.”

Booker grunted noncommittally. “I’m going to go back. Just to check on Andy. I’ll sleep in a motel if they want to be alone.”

“Alright. Text me, okay?”

“Yeah, of course. How’s everything over there?”

Joe looked over at the couch. Nicky was reclining in the corner spot, watching with rapt attention what Nile had called “one of the best episodes of Queer Eye ever” on their laptop. Nile was curled into a ball at his side. A cool draft snuck in through the cracked window, and Nicky adjusted the plush throw that was draped over them both. Nile sighed contentedly, snuggling closer for warmth.

“Good,” Joe replied, voice suddenly soft. “Everything’s really good here. You don’t have to worry about us.”

“Do you all need anything from Paris?”

“Not that I can think of right now. But I’ll let you know.”

“Okay. Okay, sounds good.”

“Sebastian.”

“Yeah?”

“Take care of yourself, okay? They’ll both be alright. Don’t sweat it.”

There was a pause. Then Booker sighed. “Yeah, okay. I’ll relax.”

“Good. Text me when you figure out where you’re sleeping tonight.”

“For sure. Thanks, Joe. Good night.”

“Good night.”

Joe left his phone on the counter and crossed over to the living room. He sat down on the carpet in front of Nicky, tilting his head back to rest it against Nicky’s knees. Nicky smiled, reaching down to run a hand through Joe’s hair. He wrapped a few curls around his fingers, tugging ever so gently before letting go. He shifted his hand a few centimeters and repeated the act.

“Come up here?”

Joe shook his head, practically melting under Nicky’s loving ministrations. The floor was especially comfy when it was closer to Nicky. “I love you,” Joe mumbled, as instinctively as exhaling. After a moment, he frowned. “I love you, too, Nile.” Nicky laughed, and Joe could almost feel Nile roll her eyes.

The episode ended with Tan France demonstrating how to do a French tuck, and Nicky wondered aloud if the technique would work just as well with his highlighter-green shorts. Joe, despite knowing full well that Nicky was trying to provoke him, promptly went off on a well-rehearsed tirade about the detriments of wearing a dress shirt with basketball shorts.

“Nile, back me up here!”

“You’re right. He’s right, Nicky. Why would you even suggest such a thing?”

“You two can’t stop me,” Nicky argued, just to be contrary.

“At least it won’t be as bad as that time you wore only yellow for two months,” Joe said resignedly.

“Yellow?” Nile asked.

“Yes, he insisted it would make the duckling feel more at home.”

“Duckling?!”

Nicky clicked his tongue impatiently. “I wore various styles and shades of yellow, from pressed goldenrod shirts to an actual pastel canary dress. He has no right to complain about my lack of versatility.”

“The duckling liked me better, and I just dressed like usual.”

“She didn’t like you better. You always kept blueberries on you to bribe her with.”

Wait,” Nile interjected. “We need to backtrack. When and why did you guys have a duckling?”

Joe gave Nicky a pointed look that did nothing to hide the mirth in his eyes. Nicky sighed around a smile.

“It was an accident.” ___

“Nicky, stop moping. Booker, get up from the floor. Enough is enough,” Andy said, far more gently that her words implied. She prodded a very drunk, very anxious Booker with her foot. “Book, have you eaten at all today?”

“He hasn’t,” Nicky muttered from the kitchen counter. “But neither have you, boss. You’re telling us to get it together, but you’re equally antsy about this whole thing. Don’t deny it.”

Andy sighed in frustration. “I wasn’t going to. It was a bad call on my part. I shouldn’t have sent Joe alone.”

“It was a one-man job. You said so yourself. And he did have the best-suited skill set out of all of us. I think, tactically speaking, you made the right decision.”

“But you’re still upset about it, aren’t you?”

“Look, boss, just because it’s a one-man job doesn’t mean said one man wouldn’t prefer company. And it would be safer to have someone along.”

“It would have been a lot of extra work for Booker, security-wise. You know that.”

“Noooo, I din’ miiind,” Booker slurred from where he was curled up on the rug. He made a valiant effort to prop himself up on an elbow before collapsing back down with a thud.

Nicky put his head in his hands. “He was supposed to be back today, right?” he whispered into his palms.

“He’ll be back. He’s fine. I know he’s fine.” Andy paced back and forth restlessly. “We just need to get out of our own heads for a bit. Be a little patient. Joe will be fine.”

The stool scraped noisily against the kitchen floor as Nicky got to his feet. “I’m going to go for a walk and not think about anything for half and hour. I’ll bring takeout on my way back. Is that alright?”

“Yeah, solid plan. I’ll drag Booker to bed and try to get him fully conscious by the time you’re back.”

“Sober?”

Andy chuckled. “Don’t get too ambitious.”

Twenty minutes later, Nicky was sitting on a park bench, forlornly looking out over a pond as the sun set behind him. He’d already called a nearby Indo-Pakistani restaurant and ordered one plate each of everyone’s favorite biryani to-go, including Joe’s. Joe had to come back tonight. He had to.

Nicky shook his head in frustration. He was doing a very poor job of thinking about nothing. Suddenly, a tiny movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He turned his head, squinting at the reeds growing on the pond bank.

The reeds rustled ominously. Nicky was just contemplating his chances of outrunning a rabid racoon, or alternatively, how long it would take him to heal from death by racoon, when the rustling stopped. Then, with a piteous squawk, a small ball of yellow fluff popped out onto the footpath.

Nicky stared in surprise. The poor little thing had landed on its back, its orange, webbed feet flailing in the air. It didn’t seem to be able to turn itself upright. Cautiously, Nicky approached the creature and very gently scooped it up. It gawked at him with wide, frightened eyes, and he heard himself mumbling soothing reassurances as he set it back on its feet. It stumbled half a meter and fell into the pond with a splash.

Nicky almost jumped to rescue it, before remembering that it was a duck and probably did not need to be rescued from the water. Was this one old enough to swim on its own? At what age did ducklings learn to swim, anyway?

The baby animal splashed around happily in front of him, clearly not drowning. Still, Nicky decided to stay for a few minutes, just to make sure it would be okay. He looked around. The mother duck and her other babies had to be around here, somewhere.

Eventually, his phone pinged with a message from the restaurant, letting him know his order was ready to be picked up. He was startled to find that it had been over forty-five minutes since he’d left the safehouse. If he didn’t get back soon, Andy and Booker might start to worry.

Nicky looked wistfully at the duckling. “Off you go, little one. Go home to your family. I’ll go home to mine.” The duckling blinked up at him quizzically. “I’ll come visit you tomorrow, if you want,” Nicky tried. “In fact, I’ll bring Joe with me. You’ll love him. He’s the sweetest person you’ll ever meet. A ray of pure sunshine, just like you.”

As he spoke, he unconsciously reached out a hand to the duckling. To his utter shock, the creature hopped right up onto his palm and settled down.

“No, you can’t come with me,” he cajoled. “You belong here. In the water. Come on, in you go.” Reluctantly, it leapt back into the water, but made no move to swim away. Nicky pursed his lips, thinking hard. Maybe if he just got up and walked off, the duckling would go back to its family. He figured it was worth a shot.

Nicky got to his feet and turned around. He’d taken only two steps away from the pond when he heard a frantic splash behind him, followed by the soft thwack, thwack, thwack, of webbed feet on concrete. He whirled around.

“No, you have to go back to your pond!” he whispered urgently. The duckling tilted its head. “The pond!” Nicky gestured dramatically toward the fading light on the surface of the water. “You know, your home.”

Nicky sighed. He would just have to walk away as fast as possible. There was no way this baby duck could keep up; it would have no choice but to go back to its family. The thought made his heart break a little, but he had no other option. Taking a deep breath, he began to stride away purposefully.

In a matter of seconds, a series of tiny, woeful quacks stopped him in his tracks. He turned to find the duckling flopped over onto its stomach, crying.

“Ehi, no, piccolo mio,” Nicky exclaimed, rushing forward to gather the poor thing in his arms. He unbuttoned the top of his coat and held the duckling against his chest to warm it up. “Don’t cry, it’s okay. It’s alright.”

He looked back towards the pond. There wasn’t one single other duck in sight. He looked down at the duckling, trembling weakly in his jacket as it calmed down. He sighed. Andy was going to throw a fit.

“Looks like you’re coming with me, little one.”

Nicky managed to smuggle the duckling in and out of the restaurant without anyone noticing. As he picked up the warm takeout boxes, the duckling poked its head out of his jacket to investigate this new source of warmth. By the time Nicky reached the safehouse, he was carrying four boxes of biryani stacked one on the other like a Christmas tree, with a sleeping ball of fluff on top where the angel would go.

Before he could even knock, the door flew open and Andy shoved her cellphone in his face.

“Look, it’s a message from Joe! He says his flight got delayed, but he’ll be here tomorrow morning!”

Nicky almost dropped their dinner (and the duckling) in his haste to grab the phone. Beneath the update, Joe had sent a selfie of himself at the airport terminal, captioned with a cheery “See, boss? I’m fine!” and a couple heart emojis. Looking at his beloved husband’s radiant smile, Nicky felt his eyes mist over involuntarily.

“There’s a duckling sleeping on my biryani.”

Nicky and Andy turned around. Booker, who must have maneuvered the takeout from Nicky’s hands while he’d been distracted by Joe, frowned dubiously at the stack of boxes.

“Do you see it, too, Andy? Or did I just drink way too much earlier?”

“Both,” Andy replied without missing a beat. “Nicky, why is there a duckling-”

“It followed me,” Nicky blurted out. “I was sitting by the pond and it fell out of the reeds right in front of me. After that, it just kept hanging out nearby. When I tried to put it by the pond and go, it started crying. What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t just leave it!”

“Okay, but what if its mother is looking for it?”

“I really, really tried to find the mom. But there wasn’t one other duck in that entire pond. I have no clue where this guy came from.” Nicky spread his hands helplessly.

Just then, the duckling woke up. For a frantic second, everyone held their breath as it flailed around, threatening to topple from the stack of boxes. But the moment it saw Nicky, it sat back down, contentedly preening its downy feathers.

“Oh my god,” Booker said incredulously. “Nicky, I think it imprinted on you.”

“What?” Nicky demanded.

“Oh, no way,” Andy countered. “Ducklings are supposed to imprint on their mother ducks. Nicky isn’t even the same species.”

“Yeah, but ducklings have been known to imprint on other animals, including humans,” Booker continued. “Especially if the mother is absent during the baby’s first few days for whatever reason, it will imprint on whoever it can find. Nicky, looks like you adopted a duckling. Or it adopted you. Good luck.”

“Oh no,” Nicky fretted. “I can’t raise a baby all by myself. Where is Joe, I need a co-parent! Andy, can I have some time off? Maybe, uh, a few weeks? Oh no, I don’t even know how long it takes for a duckling to grow up. I don’t know anything about ducklings. Booker, can you print out the Wikipedia page on ducklings for me?”

“Relax, Nicky,” Andy chided. “You’ve raised chicks before. How different can this really be?”

“8-12 weeks,” Booker read out from his laptop. “Nicky and Joe are going to need 8-12 weeks off to raise this duckling to full maturity. After that, they can reintroduce it to the pond.”

Andy sighed. “Fine. You two were gonna have time off anyway, since I have business in Portugal and Booker’s going to Germany because he scored tickets to the World Cup.”

“Oh, Joe didn’t want to come?” Nicky asked.

“I only managed to get one ticket,” Booker admitted. “I offered to let Joe go instead of me, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Said maybe next time, if we get more tickets.”

“Oh. I guess that works out then.”

“For the record,” Andy said as she extracted her box from beneath the duckling, “this is absolutely ridiculous. Only you, Nicky, would go out for a walk to ‘clear your head,’ and come back with a real live orphan duckling.”

In the end, it was a good thing they were in Genoa, because Nicky had maintained his ties to the port city over the centuries and, in a matter of hours, was able to take out a lease for a small cottage closer to the pond. After dinner, Booker and Andy helped him shift his and Joe’s belongings, as well as some meager furniture, into the new place.

“I think I’ll stay the night,” Nicky decided as they finished up. “The duckling is already asleep on my jacket, and I don’t want to jostle it in the process of moving back to the safehouse.”

“Sounds good,” Andy said around a yawn. “We’ll send Joe over as soon as he drops off the mission file. Come on, Book. Time to go.” There was no response. “Booker?”

Booker tip-toed out of the room where the duckling was sleeping, waving his laptop around triumphantly. “She’s a baby pekin. That’s the species. Also she’s a she, in case you were wondering. See this faded eyeline?” He pointed to a picture on the laptop. “That’s how you can tell.”

“A she,” Andy grunted approvingly. “What are you going to name her, Nicky?”

“I don’t know. I’ll ask Joe tomorrow. He’ll come up with something pretty and meaningful.”

“Your laptop was dead, Nicky, so I plugged it in to charge,” Booker said, shoving his own laptop into a bag. “You’re gonna be doing a lot of googling, I think.”

“Thank you, Booker.”

“Mhm. Andy, let’s go? If I fall asleep before we make it back, you’ll have to carry me the rest of the way.”

“I’ll leave you on the footpath.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“I might. Let’s go. ‘Night, Nicky.”

“Goodnight, you both. Safe travels, in case I don’t see you before your flights.”

The next morning, Nicky woke up to webbed feet padding determinedly across his chest. He opened his eyes to see beady black eyes staring down into his soul, and very nearly had a heart attack.

“Madre de dio!” he yelped, sitting up sharply. He managed to gather his bearings and catch the little ball of yellow fluff before it tumbled off the bed. “Piccolo mio, you can’t just do that!”

The duck let out several loud, indignant squawks, stomping around in his lap. Nicky furrowed his brow.

“Are you…yelling at me?”

The squawking and stomping continued.

“Oh,” Nicky surmised. “Maybe you’re hungry. Babies usually cry when they’re hungry. Is that right, preziosa? Shall we find you something to eat?”

Nicky doubted the duckling understood any of what he was saying, but she responded to his tone, nuzzling her tiny beak into his hand. He took that as a yes. Nicky climbed out of bed with a yawn, stretching thoughtfully as he walked over to the clothing trunk to get dressed.

That was how, ten minutes later, Joe walked in on Nicky standing at the kitchen table in yellow sleeping shorts and a yellow t-shirt, slicing green grapes in half as a very energetic duckling devoured them happily. Joe felt his lips curl up into a hopelessly wide smile.

“When Andy told me you had a surprise for me, this is not what I expected.”

Nicky dropped the knife and whirled around, practically throwing himself across the kitchen in his haste to wrap Joe up in his arms. Joe gasped as the wind was knocked out of him. He clung to Nicky, burying his face in his neck and breathing him in. God, how he had missed him. Finally - finally- Joe felt like he was home.

After a few moments, Nicky pulled back, eyes shining as he cupped Joe’s face in his hands. “You stink,” he accused, before kissing him soundly. Joe’s protests died in his throat, and he grinned into the kiss, feeling full to the brim with happiness. He marveled quietly at his husband’s ability to make 900 years seem like the blink of an eye. Perhaps his body had stopped aging centuries ago, but it was only in his Nicolò’s arms that Joe still felt 31.

Eventually, a series of tentative chirps interrupted them, and they broke apart, laughing.

“Aww, amore mio, how rude! You haven’t introduced us yet,” Joe quipped, gesturing between himself and the duckling.

“Ah,” Nicky smiles sheepishly. “Joe, this is…a duckling. Duckling, this is Joe - remember the one I was telling you about by the pond? The one with a smile like sunshine, sweetest person you’ll ever meet?”

Nicky turned, and Joe kissed him again, impossibly more in love than he’d ever been in his life. The idea of his husband waxing poetic about him to ducklings in a pond was just too adorable to bear.

Later that afternoon, after Joe’s valiant but fruitless attempt to potty train the duckling and Nicky’s stoic re-sanitation of their patio threshold, they decided to swaddle the drowsy baby in a soft washcloth and watch a movie together while she napped. They sat on the loveseat Andy and Booker had carried in last night, the duckling nestled comfortably between them. Both of them elected to watch a soppy romantic indie they’d seen a hundred times before instead of the new action flick; it was Joe’s first day back, after all, and he’d really had enough of gunfire for a very long time. Nicky couldn’t agree more.

Around halfway through, Joe leaned forward and paused the laptop. He stroked a finger gently down the sleeping duckling’s back, and then looked up at Nicky.

“Did you really not pick out a name for her yet, amore?”

Nicky shrugged his shoulders with a half-smile. “I figured that’s your department, no? Coming up with something melodious, beautiful. Poetic. Some worthy descriptor for this lovely little creature.” Nicky yawned. Maybe the duckling’s need for sleep was rubbing off on him. “You’re the creative one.”

Joe gasped in mock offense. “You are creative!” he whispered insistently.

Nicky laughed softly. “Yes, coming up with ways to keep you enamored for nine centuries does take creativity.”

“You could laze about on this couch for the next nine centuries and I’d still love you more than life itself.”

Joe’s retort was very matter-of-fact, but Nicky melted like sugar in a flame. Given how often his husband said things like that, he didn’t see how it was possible to be caught off guard every single time. To be stunned into speechlessness, heart alive with emotion his tongue knew no words for. It made Nicky realize what the poets meant when they compared love to a river of fire that could only be crossed by drowning.

“I know, hayati,” he replied at length, leaning in for a kiss. “Believe me, I know.” Nicky did not add that he felt the same, that if they never so much as left this house for another millennia, their love would only continue to grow - but Joe heard it anyway.

The next evening, Nicky finished showering and, after a moment of contemplation, opted for a mustard-yellow sweatshirt and last night’s sleeping shorts. As he walked towards the kitchen to make dinner, he decided to ask Joe to run down to the local pet store and pick up a bag or two of proper duck feed. The duckling could only be expected to eat grape halves for so long. He reached the kitchen and promptly froze in the doorway.

On the counter was a large steel basin filled with water. Inside the basin was a very happy duckling, splashing around gleefully. Next to the counter was a rather disgruntled Joe, soaking wet and trying in vain to coax the duckling into staying still long enough for him to rub a little Dawn soap onto her back.

“Wallahi, Nicolina, a little soap doesn’t hurt! Come on, baths are nice. You’ll like it, I promise. Would you rather smell like pond water, or, uhh…” Joe squinted at the soap bottle. “It doesn’t say what scent this is, actually. But I’m sure it’s better than pond water, don’t you think?”

“Joe, what are you doing?” Nicky laughed from the doorway.

“Nicky! Oh, thank God you’re here.” The duckling seemed to agree, chirping excitedly at Nicky as he walked towards them. “Give me a hand, amore. Nicolina doesn’t like soap.”

“You’re calling her Nicolina?!”

“It suits her. She’s just a miniature you, see?” Joe managed to seize the duckling and hold it up next to Nicky. “Both yellow, both don’t like soap-”

“I like soap!”

“Both like to swim,” Joe continued, ignoring Nicky and putting the duckling back into the warm water.

“And I’m only wearing yellow to make the duckling feel more…at home, you know?”

“Pekin ducks are white, Nicky.”

“Well, this one’s clearly yellow.”

“That’s because it’s a baby. Mother ducks are white.”

Nicky shook his head to clear it. He’d definitely come in here with the intention of telling Joe something else, not arguing about duck colors.

“Oh, right! Joe, I meant to ask you - could you get duckling feed from the pet store while I make something for dinner? After you’re finished bathing her, of course. That way she’ll have something nutritious to eat tonight.”

Joe nodded, and then leveled Nicky with his best poker face, a sparkle of mischief in his eyes. “Who will have something nutritious to eat, amore?”

“She will.”

“Who?”

“The duckling, Joe.”

“Yes, but the duckling has a name, right?”

“ I am not calling her that.”

“Però-”

“Yusuf al-Kaysani, I swear-”

Joe put on his best puppy face. “But you said I could name her anything I want!”

“I said you could name her something beautiful and meaningful.”

“There is no name more beautiful and meaningful to me than yours, Nicolò. You asked me to find a worthy descriptor for her - and I found no better way to honor her charm and kindness than to name her after you. You stole my heart the moment I saw you, and she did the same. What can I do? It’s perfect.”

Nicky gaped at his husband. “Wha- I- You- Hayati! You can’t just say things like that!”

Joe gave a tiny smile, trying to hide his triumph and failing spectacularly. Nicky threw his hands up in surrender, circling around the counter to thoroughly kiss the smug look off Joe’s face.

“So the name can stay, then?” Joe asked, a little breathlessly, when Nicky pulled back.

“Don’t ask questions which you already know the answer to,” Nicky scolded, kissing him again. “Now go pick up duck feed before the pet store closes. Remember, if Nicolina doesn’t get dinner, then neither will you.”

Joe burst out laughing. He stashed the bottle of Dawn soap next to the sink, waving an alacritous finger at the duckling as he scrambled out of the kitchen. “Looks like you’re off the hook for today, little one!” Nicolina splashed and quacked enthusiastically in response. “Nicky, there’s a clean towel next to the basin to dry her off with. Can you-”

“I’ve got it, love. I’ll finish up here before starting dinner.”

“Grazie mille, see you in ten!” Joe called from the living room, grabbing his wallet and heading out the door. Nicky sighed, reveling in the peace of the moment, silent but for the gentle splashes and chirps of the duckling in front of him. Eventually, he picked up the towel.

“Alright, Nicolina. Let’s get you dry and warm for your nap, shall we?”

The next few weeks passed happily, with Nicolina becoming a central part of their family. She was extremely intelligent, managing to figure out potty training by the end of week two. It took until week three to convince her that soapy baths were a good thing, but she grew to love it enough that as soon as a bubble bath was prepared, she would hop in of her own volition. Both Joe and Nicky were ecstatic. By the time week four was drawing to a close, Nicolina had even learned how to turn her heat lamp on and off by herself, by stepping on the switch.

One evening, as Nicky was walking back to the cottage after running an errand, he was struck by a thought. Tomorrow, he realized, would be the one-month anniversary of having found Nicolina by the lake. Since the duckling wouldn’t be with them for a full year, this was probably their best chance to have a first birthday celebration for her. He pulled out his phone and hit recent.

“Hello, Joe?” He paused as Joe spoke. “Yes, yes, the post office was open. It went smoothly. Yeah - I wanted to ask, can you feed Nicolina and whip something up for dinner? I just remembered a thing; I’ll have to take a bit of a detour.” On the other end, Joe grumbled something about Nicky going on impromptu shopping trips without him. “I never said I was going shopping!” Nicky laughed. “But you’re right, as usual. Tell me, hayati, how am I supposed to surprise you with what I buy if I take you with me?”

The next morning, Nicky snuck out of bed before either Joe or Nicolina were awake. He decorated the living room of their cottage with baby blue and yellow balloons - some hanging off the roof and walls, others rolling around lackadaisically on the floor. Then, he puttered around the kitchen for a bit, mixing batter and putting two cakes in the oven to bake: a regular one, and a special miniature one made with all duck-friendly ingredients.

Miraculously, neither of his housemates had woken up to all the ruckus he’d made in the kitchen. Nicky tip-toed back into the bedroom and quietly slid a dress box from beneath the bed. He went to the bathroom to shower and get ready.

When he’d stopped at a clothing shop the previous night, Nicky had honestly been dismayed at the lack of birthday-appropriate formal wear available for men in any color other than dark blue, black, or tan. Certainly there was nothing even approaching some semblance of duckling yellow. Nicky had sighed in frustration - he should have brought Joe along after all. Joe would have known what to do.

Nicky could almost imagine his husband’s gleeful smile. “Amore, try this!” he would say, gesturing to the obnoxious excuse for a suit on Nicky’s right. “Or no, wait - what about this?” Nicky’s gaze had snagged on a lovely light yellow dress, on display in the women’s section across the aisle. It was a simple a-line dress with short sleeves and a flowy skirt that would probably come down to a little above his knee. There was no print, only a few tiny red flowers embroidered at the hem and on one sleeve. Also, it had pockets.

In his head, Nicky imagined Joe, who would have suggested the dress as a joke, tracking Nicky’s interest and suddenly getting on his soapbox about how men can wear dresses, too, because gendering clothing is stupid and outdated, and really, it was supposed to be hot tomorrow, did Nicky really want to spend Nicolina’s first birthday all uncomfortable in a scratchy suit, and…

Before he could second-guess himself, Nicky took the dress off the rack. He skipped the fitting room and decided to just pray that it looked good on him instead. He’d made his purchases and been halfway across the street when he realized that he hadn’t picked one out for Joe. He’d immediately turned and started walking back, earning a confused honk from a taxi driver who had to swerve to avoid him.

That was the story of how, on the morning of Nicolina’s first-month birthday, Joe came into the living room to see his husband in a stunning pastel-yellow dress, glowing like the sun itself among a shower of blue and gold balloons, playing peek-a-boo with a delighted duckling perched on the coffee table. Warmth and sunlight streamed through the open patio, and the air smelled sweetly of vanilla and cinnamon.

Joe pressed a hand to his heart, so overwhelmed with love that he was physically unable to breathe for a few seconds. Looking back, he prided himself on being able to remain standing at all. It shouldn’t be humanly possible, he thought, to fully and truly embody perfection to the degree that his Nicolò did. Joe smiled at the irony - he sometimes forgot that the very basis of their existence itself wasn’t humanly possible.

Nicolina spotted Joe first, and ran excitedly off the end of the table in a wildly risky attempt to take flight. Nicky gasped and lunged after her, managing to catch her before she hit the floor. “Nicolina, what the-”

He looked at Joe, standing open-mouthed in the living room entrance, and smiled. “Good morning, my love. Did you sleep well?”

“You’re beautiful,” Joe blurted out, like a thirteen-year-old talking to his crush. He frowned. Surely, Nicky’s current state of dress deserved something more poetic.

But Nicky’s smile only widened. “I’m so glad you like it, Joe. I have to confess, I had my doubts. But the look on your face convinces me I made the right decision.”

Joe opened his mouth to say, yes, yes this was absolutely the right decision, this might have been the best decision ever - but what really came out of his mouth was “Uh. Yeah. Can I, um. I really want to kiss you. If you want.”

Apparently, he would continue to be possessed by the ghost of an incoherent and besotted teenager for as long as Nicky was wearing this damn dress. Fortunately, Nicky seemed to find this endearing, laughing as he gently deposited Nicolina in his pocket - omg, it has pockets! - and walked up to Joe. He reached out to cradle Joe’s face in his hands, gazing at him like all the stars were in his eyes. Joe, who had just gotten out of bed and hadn’t even combed his hair, couldn’t imagine what Nicky was seeing, but the next moment, their lips were pressed together in a tender, blissful embrace, and every other thought in Joe’s head dissolved like salt in the ocean.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Nicky exclaimed, pulling back all too soon. “I got one for you, too! It’s in a dress box under the bed. Would you be interested?”

Joe blinked as his brain caught up. “One for me?”

“Yes, and don’t worry, I picked something you’ll like. It’s not tacky or unfashionable, I promise-”

“I like everything you pick.”

“That’s not true, you didn’t like the t-shirt I wore two days ago-”

“I like everything you pick for me.”

Nicky paused, trying to find a counterexample. “Ah. I guess you do. Well, go try this one on, then! Let’s see.”

Five minutes later, when Joe hesitantly stepped out of their bedroom in his new dress, Nicky realized that he had vastly overestimated his own ability to remain a functioning member of society with Joe looking like that. Even Nicolina, now resting quietly on a bunched-up blanket on the couch, couldn’t seem to take her eyes off of him.

“Well?” Joe asked, giving an experimental twirl that did nothing for Nicky’s screaming brain. “Does it look okay?”

Joe was wearing a knee-length deep teal sheath dress with a dribble of silver sequins spilling down one side like stardust. A shallow v-neck gave way to a sleeveless top, and the richly colored fabric fit snugly against his hips in a way that had not been nearly so breathtaking on the mannequin. Like Nicky’s own, this dress was simple, without excess print or decoration. Still, the way it looked on Joe as he stood there, smiling a little shyly in the late morning sunlight, left Nicky stunned.

He tried to speak around the sudden dryness in his mouth, but no sound came out. Rather, Nicolina chirped up first, quacking approvingly from her comfy spot on the couch. Joe grinned, crouching down next to the duckling.

“Aww, thank you, little one. At least someone has feedback for me.” Nicolina nuzzled her beak into his cheek affectionately.

Nicky sat back down on the couch and put his head in his hands. Joe glanced up.

“Nicky?” he asked, a little worried now. He walked over and sat down next to him. “Amati, is everything alright? Do you not like it? I can change back-”

“Mashallah, Yusuf,” Nicky said hoarsely, taking Joe’s hands in his. When he looked up, Joe was shocked to see tears glistening in his eyes. “It’s just - you are the most beautiful, wonderful, miraculous being that God has ever created, and I never forget this, but sometimes I am reminded anew and I just- I am left in awe of you, of your endless love and beauty. I can’t handle any of this. You’re too handsome, too kind. I wish I had one hundred hearts to love you with.” He sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

For the second time that day, Joe was rendered utterly speechless. On Nicky’s other side, Nicolina whimpered worriedly, climbing out of her blanket nest and nosing at his elbow. He chuckled wetly, reaching out to pet her.

“I’m fine, piccolo mio. Better than fine. Don’t worry.” To Joe, he said, “Sorry. I’m overreacting.”

“No,” Joe mumbled. He dropped his head to Nicky’s shoulder, reverently bringing their joined hands to his lips. “Ti amo, Nicolò. So much. Thank you.”

Nicolina clambered onto Nicky’s lap, snuggling close to him for warmth. Nicky caressed her downy feathers comfortingly. He turned and pressed a soft kiss to the top of Joe’s head. It had been a busy morning, and they still had big plans for the day, Nicky knew. A nice long walk in the park, visiting Nicolina’s pond, eating cake, maybe going out somewhere fancy for lunch or dinner (somewhere that allowed pets; he would have to google it). But for now, he allowed himself to just breathe, swathed in bone-deep contentment.

Over the course of the next month, they took Nicolina to the pond every single day. By week five, her feathers were growing out in earnest, and she could fly quite reliably. In week six, Nicky and Joe got comfortable leaving her at the pond unsupervised, using the time to run short errands before returning to pick her up. By week seven, Nicolina would stay out longer and longer, often loathe to leave the water even after the sun had set.

As week eight drew to a close, Nicky reminded Joe to pack an extra jacket for their trip to the pond. Nicolina ran ahead of them excitedly. The pond was always her favorite part of the day. After watching her splash about for a bit, Joe went for a walk around the park, and Nicky left to go grocery shopping for the upcoming week.

When Nicky returned, Joe was back on the bench in front of the pond. For a second, Nicky had a vivid flashback to the evening this all started - he’d been sitting in that very spot, worrying about Joe, when Nicolina had quite literally dropped into his life. He shook his head fondly at the memory.

“Joe?” He approached the bench. Joe looked up at him and smiled, patting the adjacent seat.

“How was groceries?”

“Ah. Nothing too remarkable. A lady spilled a gallon of milk in the aisle where we were waiting to pay, and then we all got distributed into different queues, so it took longer than usual.”

Joe clicked his tongue sympathetically. For the next couple hours, they sat mostly in silence, listening to the sounds of the evening and watching the last rays of sunlight fade from the surface of the pond. As it got dark, the park slowly emptied out, save for a few teenagers roasting marshmallows over a fire pit in the distance.

Nicky sighed deeply, holding his arm out to Joe. Joe scooted closer, wrapping his arms around Nicky’s waist and resting his head on his shoulder.

“She’s not coming back tonight, is she,” Joe whispered. Nicky squeezed his shoulder, pulling him closer.

“Got attached, Yusuf?”

Joe huffed. “Two months is nothing in the span of centuries, right? So why…” He trailed off, but Nicky heard what was left unspoken.

“The heart only knows how to live in the present, hayati. That is why it falls in love. That is why it cries when something ends. Even if we always knew it would.”

“You’re so composed - won’t you miss her?”

“I will. Terribly so. It just hasn’t sunk in yet, so I can offer you wisdom like a hypocrite.”

Joe smiled sadly. “When it sinks in, I’ll do the same for you.”

“I know, my love. My all.” After a few minutes, he said, “Give me that extra jacket.” Joe handed it to him, and Nicky shook it out, wrapping it like a blanket around Joe’s shoulders. “Lie down.” Joe lay his head in Nicky’s lap, stretching his feet out onto the bench. Nicky wove his fingers through Joe’s hair calmingly. “Alright?”

“Mhm. Nicky?”

“Yes?”

“Are we staying the night?”

“We can stay as long as you want.” ___

“The end,” Nicky said with a flourish.

“Wait, what?” Nile lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him incredulously. “What do you mean, the end? You never saw her again?”

“Of course we saw her again,” Joe answered from the floor. “We walked by the pond several times a week, and she would always swim over to say hi when she saw us. It was the sweetest thing.”

“About a month later,” Nicky picked up the narrative, “Booker got back from Germany and Andy from Portugal. We took a series of back-to-back missions after that, and didn’t get to return to Genoa until early spring.”

Joe’s phone buzzed on the counter, and he got up to go check it.

“Mhm, and then?” Nile prompted.

“Well, when we got back, we came by the pond to see if the ducks had returned to their northern habitats yet. As we stood by the water, one duck, a beautiful, white bird, swam gracefully up to us and nuzzled our ankles for a bit. She looked really happy to see us.”

“Oh my gosh - Nicolina?!”

Nicky smiled in confirmation. “Do you know, she had a mate? He was quite lovely, too. They made a good pair.”

“Wow,” Nile breathed. “That’s so awesome.”

“Guys, look at this.” Joe walked back to them, phone outstretched. “A message from Booker.”

Nicky took the phone, and Nile leaned over to see. On the screen was a photo of Andy curled up next to a Vietnamese woman that Nile had only ever seen before in her dreams. Quynh, she knew. Andy was fast asleep, and Quynh smiled serenely at the camera. Her eyes looked like she had been crying, but her happiness was evident, even in the hastily taken picture. The message beneath it read “they’re letting me stay the night,” followed by a tentative thumbs up and smiley face.

Nicky grinned. “Oh, God. I can’t wait to see her. And look at them - I told you, Joe.”

Joe leaned in for a quick kiss. “I never doubted it.”

[yikesharringrove]

how do u feel abt doing smth like a modern au where billy is like , all this punk rock and teen angst and leather nd jean jackets kinda of thing and steve is the exact opposite of him with fluffy skirts and soft polos nd just really soft and they two have seen eachother but dont actually talk to one another until they have a school project and they just. fall in love overtime? basically , femme steve + punk rock billy falling in love.

(pt. 2) also!! happy 21st birthday 💓💕💗💖💕

The university had a strict core curriculum, meaning that Steve was ten minutes late for his Philosophy of the Modern Era class.

He couldn’t find the room, was wandering around in this basement with his schedule written on the back of his hand. He was peering at room numbers and muttering to himself 067 067 067.

“You looking for that philosophy class?” Steve turned around at the voice.

The guy was stomping down the hallway in big leather boots. His jeans were ripped and shredded, and he was wearing a black t-shirt with pink font reading Dog Park Dissidents. His denim jacket was covered in pins and patches and sharpie drawings. He had Silence = Death written on one of the pockets, Being nice IS punk rock was scrawled down one arm.

“Yeah, that modern era one?” The guy smiled and nodded, reaching forward to shake Steve’s hand. His eyes were a startling blue, lined with a thin smudge on black. His hair was wild and curly, shaved on each side into this beachy looking mohawk. He had his nose and his eyebrow pierced, along with several in his ears.

“Billy Hargrove.”

“Steve Harrington.” Steve could feel the tips of his ears go red as Billy looked him up and down. He was wearing something cute for the first day of class, a chunky white cardigan over a soft pink peasant dress. He had gotten up early to do his makeup well, and was late to class anyway because this stupid building was a fucking maze.

They set off down the hall together, looking at each door they passed by.

“Oh shit. Pretty Boy, I think I got it.” Steve flushed slightly at being called pretty, still not used to being able to dress like this in public. Billy wrenched open the door, and stomped in, not a care in the world for being twenty minutes late.

The professor raised his eyebrow.

“And what were you two doing out in the hall?”

“I’m sorry, we couldn’t find the room.” Steve’s cheeks were hot as he was standing at the front of the class.

“That’s okay. you have missed class introductions, to please say your names, pronouns and majors.”

“Billy Hargrove, he/him, double majoring in literature and social work.”

“Steve Harrington, he/they. I’m also a double major in education and early childhood development.” The professor made a note on his role sheet.

“Thank you, you may sit down.” Steve went for the back of the room, flopping into the first empty seat he could find, ducking his head as he quietly got his laptop out. Billy had stomped into the seat next to him, had gotten out a notebook and proceeded to doodle in it for the rest of class.

He sat next to Billy every Monday Wednesday and Friday from 9:20-10:35 and and outside of their ten minute search for the classroom, they had yet to say anything to one another.

It certainly didn’t help that Steve was harboring a little crush on the guy. He would watch him in class, the way he would doodle little sunflowers in the margins of his notes, smiling softly at them.

“So, for the rest of the semester you will be working in pairs. I want you to go through the readings we have completely and work together with the philosophers we have discussed to create your own system for the modern era. How do you believe society exists now?” Billy turned to Steve, grinning at him.

“You wanna be my partner?” Steve gave a sheepish smile, his heart racing.

“I, um. Yes. Yeah, I’ll be your partner.” Steve dug his phone out of the tight pocket of his skirt, trading with Billy. He put his number under Steve Harrington - Modern Era Philosphy.

“You wanna get coffee after class, start working through our beliefs?”

“Um, sure. I don’t have class until, like, 3:30 today.” Billy grinned again and fucking winked at Steve. He needed to calm the fuck down.

“So basically, a lot of my beliefs are based on the punk message.” Billy was sipping at his black coffee, had laughed and said should’ve fucking known when Steve ordered a large mocha with extra chocolate syrup, and whipped cream. “I’m a very live and let live person, but I believe everyone should live and let live. If someone is trying to dictate how others should exist, they’re fucking garbage.”

“Okay, I actually really agree with that.”

“That’s because you’re punk rock.” Steve laughed, but Billy’s eyes were serious. “No seriously, there’s nothing more punk rock than being unapologetically yourself.”

“When did you get into punk philosophy?”

“When I was in high school. My dad was a real prick, and I was angry, and a lot of punk is loud and pissed off and it helped, but then I started going to shows, and talking to people, and it’s not what you’d expect. Everyone at a show is like a weird family for a night. If someone comes in and tries to fuck with someone, the family deals. I can’t tell you how many fights I saw that broke out because someone was perving on a girl, and these other guys started protecting her. And that only grew as I started getting into queercore.”

Steve was listening to Billy, eyes wide as he described stories from shows, how he had jumped in on fights to defend the family, how he would walk girls home or to their cars parked a ways down the street, how he knew everyone would do the same for him.

“God, I wish I had a community like that. I didn’t really have anyone growing up. You know, token queer in a small town kinda vibe.” Billy smiled at him sympathetically.

“That why you came out to San Fransisco?”

“Oh yeah. Wanted to come somewhere where, this, didn’t matter.” He gestured to himself. “I just don’t get why it bothers people. I just do it because it makes me happy. I don’t know why it concerns anyone else.” Billy was nodding vigorously.

“Exactly. That’s the whole truth about being queer. People hate you for something that has nothing to do with them. It’s completely wack. Like if I’m with someone in whatever capacity, we’re both consenting adults. It literally doesn’t matter.”

“Do you think we could expand upon this enough for our project? Talk about how we feel the world should just stop caring about what other people do if it has nothing to do with them.” Billy grinned.

“I think we could make something happen.”

They began getting coffee after each class, taking through their project, finding resources to back up the ideas they had discussed. The more time they spent together, the more Steve liked Billy, liked how sweet he was, how positive. They talked about having terrible parents, how Billy’s dad had kicked him out at sixteen for being gay, how he had lived with friends, saving up to get himself through college. They talked about how Steve’s dad had found his stash of makeup and threw it all away, making sure it was ruined and broken. How disappointed his father was that he was studying to become a teacher.

There was one Friday they had met up and stayed all day in the coffee shop stayed until the 5 pm closing.

“You wanna come over? I have a single room. We can keep working.” Billy grinned at Steve like he always did, showing off all his white teeth. So they walked side by side to Steve’s room.

Steve kept his room neat, a habit left over from overbearing parents who would shame him into cleaning his room.

Steve’s room was exactly how Billy imagined.

He had soft white lights, a full length mirror on one wall. His bed was covered in pillows, duvets, and even a few stuffed animals. The wall above the bed was covered in pictures of Steve back home, several with a group of younger kids, and a lot with a blonde girl.

“This your girlfriend?” Steve snorted.

“No, that’s Robin. She and I are just really close friends.”

“What’s with the kids?” Steve blushed.

“I babysat all through high school, and those kids kinda adopted me as their pseudo parent. It was a lot of driving them all over town.”

“That’s cute. That why you wanna teach?”

“Yeah, I’m good with kids.” Steve had plopped himself on the made bed. He watched as Billy took off his heavy boots, placing them neatly by the door before stepping onto Steve’s plush grey rug. His socks were thick wool and had little cartoon dogs on them. Steve was in love.

Billy sat with Steve on the bed. He was taking a closer look at the photos.

“I could see that for you. You’re a caring type.” Steve looked down as his feet, could feel his face getting hot.

“Why did you pick social work?”

“When I was a kid, CPS would be called to our place like, once every few months. My dad was a real good schmoozer, so I would always just be left with him. I wanna be able to help kids get out of bad situations.”

“God, and you call me a caring type. You’re gonna save the world.” Billy laughed.

“The children are the future. I’ll save ‘em, you teach ‘em.” When Steve looked up, Billy was leaning closer into Steve’s space. He had a soft smile on his face. His eyes were bright and beautiful and so fucking blue. “Can I kiss you?”

“Can you, what?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Why?” Billy still hadn’t leaned back.

“‘Cause I have a big dumb crush on you, and I think you have one on me.” Steve’s face was pink.

“I, uh, yeah. Go, go for it.” Billy laughed, taking Steve’s face in both hands. He leaned in, just gently pressing their lips together.

“So, was I right?”

“Yes. Very much so.” Billy laughed again, loud and sweet, pressing another kiss to Steve’s lips.

“You wanna go on a date? A real one? Not just us getting coffee and pretending we both weren’t totally into each other.” Steve snorted again.

“Yeah, I would really like that.”

[magicsmutshop]

Tangents

Pairings: Kim Taehyung/Reader, Min Yoongi/Reader

Genre: Smutty one-shot

Rating: Explicit

Word count: ~6000

Warnings: Alcohol, weed, voyeurism/exhibitionism, frat boy!Tae, frat boy!Yoongi, quasi-threesome

about: You’re stuck partnering on a presentation with resident stoner Taehyung. When you go over to his frat house to work on it, you meet his roommate Yoongi -- and realize they both have more to them than meets the eye.

inspired by this amazing picture.

Shouldering your backpack, you knock on the front door of the Beta Tau Sigma house. You shift your weight from foot to foot while waiting for a response. You can hear sounds coming through the door -- some kind of shooting game and guys yelling at each other to “duck under that projectile, Jin!” You roll your eyes and bang on the door harder.

Suddenly, the door is flung open to reveal a tall guy in a gray sweatsuit, shaking black hair out of his eyes. He stares at you for a moment, looking completely spaced-out.

“Uh, hi? Is Taehyung here?” You awkwardly adjust your backpack again and tighten your ponytail.

Tall Guy’s face clears and his eyes crinkle. “Oh yeah, he said he had somebody coming by to work on a project. He’s in the living room.” He spins on his heel and charges down the hall, not waiting to see if you followed.  You roll your eyes again and make your way inside, closing the door behind you. You definitely got a strong whiff of weed from that brief conversation, which doesn’t bode well for your project work tonight.

Your Anthro 101 professor had assigned partners for a presentation due in two weeks. Unfortunately, you were paired up with Kim Taehyung, the resident stoner who always made the most random comments during discussion. You internally cringed every time he opened his mouth, because his off-the-wall questions would lead the professor down long tangents that were irrelevant to the syllabus. It was a waste of your time when the professor could be lecturing on content that would actually show up on the exams!  You were dreading the idea of having to keep Taehyung on topic and on track during the presentation, which counted for a fairly large part of your grade.

On the other hand, Taehyung seemed happy with the partner assignment. He plopped down in the seat next to yours while you were packing up your notes, and cheerfully invited you to his fraternity house the next night to get started on the presentation.  He was a member of Beta Tau Sigma, the arts fraternity which was known for their hot artsy guys, but also for the noise complaints that came out of their League of Legends tournaments. You weren’t exactly eager to spend an evening there, but your roommate never left the dorm room and the library had shitty heating.  So here you were on a Friday night, following the skunk smell to the living room in search of your partner.

You poke your head into the room Tall Guy disappeared into, and see him sitting on the floor in front of the couch with a controller in his hands. He’s next to a beautiful man with broad shoulders and plush lips who’s screaming at the tv.  Behind them on the couch is Taehyung, next to yet another beautiful man with plush lips and silvery hair. The fraternity’s reputation was clearly not wrong.

Taehyung looks up with a beaming smile upon seeing you peeking in. “Y/N! You made it!” He gracefully unfolds himself off the couch and bounds over to you. “I’m so excited to work on this with you.” He’s making really intense eye contact with you, which is slightly unnerving until you notice the slight redness of his eyes. You see a bong made out of a Tata figurine on the beat-up coffee table in front of the couch, which explains everything you needed to know.

You force a smile. “Of course, looking forward to getting this project done. So, where’s your room?” The guys behind you break out into a chorus of “oohs” before returning their attention to the game they’re playing.  Taehyung ignores them, taking you gently by the arm and directing you out of the room.

“Sorry, we’ve been having our game night and they get a little rowdy. I promise they won’t bother us while we’re working on the project. I’m right upstairs. Do you want anything to drink before we get started?”

You shake your head. “No thanks, I’d rather just get to it.”  Taehyung shrugs and leads you up a flight of stairs. As you follow him, you can’t help but notice how nicely his ass fills out his black pants. He pushes open a door covered in a Nas poster and beckons for you to enter first.

You blink your eyes at the dim lighting when you enter his room. The room is a pretty standard-issue college room--there are two twin beds on opposite walls. One side is covered in torn-out pictures of rappers from magazines. The other side is covered in black-and-white photos, plus a poster of The Starry Night. In between the beds, another guy is sitting at his desk with his back to you. He has huge headphones on and is looking at an intimidating array of monitors and speakers. Like Taehyung, he’s wearing a baseball cap and a plain black tee. He doesn’t seem to have noticed your entrance.

Taehyung bounces over to the guy and pokes him in the shoulder. “Yo, Yoongi!”  Yoongi ignores him. Not to be deterred, Taehyung pulls one side of his headphones off. “Yoongi!”

Yoongi finally turns around. “What, Tae?” His scowl doesn’t hide the fact that he’s really attractive, with narrow, dark eyes, delicate lips, and the most flawless skin you’ve ever seen on a man. Seriously, what is it with the hot men in this fraternity? Suddenly, you notice his dark gaze land on you.

“Yoongi, this is Y/N! She’s in my anthro class, we’re going to work on that presentation I was telling you about!” Taehyung turns to you, smiling winningly. “This is my roommate Yoongi, do you mind if he sticks around? He’s working on a project too, but don’t worry, his headphones block out the entire world.”  You shrug.

Yoongi gives you a brief nod and then immediately turns back to his computer, putting his headphones back on. He’s clearly not the talkative type, but Taehyung seems to talk enough for two.  “Come sit here, I promise I just changed the sheets, Jungkook did the laundry so it smells really good!” He pats the bedspread next to him.

You tentatively approach and sit down, pulling your backpack into your lap. The sheets really do smell good, and sitting this closely, Taehyung smells good too. You were expecting him to smell like weed and Axe, but instead, he smells like a combination of musk and flowers.  You blink out of your brief reverie and lock eyes with him. There’s that discomfiting eye contact again… but this time you notice how long his eyelashes are. “So, shall we start?” He pulls out his laptop, breaking the moment.

---

Much to your surprise, Taehyung actually knows what he’s doing. He had a really good suggestion for your presentation topic, and when you agreed to it, he had a potential outline already typed up, with ideas for supporting articles and readings you could refer to.  Despite your worst fears, you’re done with the initial prep work in an hour, and have a solid base to draft your presentation for next week. Taehyung closes his laptop with a flourish and hops off his bed, stretching his arms above his head. His shirt rides up, revealing a flat stomach with a tiny happy trail leading up to his bellybutton. As your gaze drifts up his torso, you realize he’s watching you watch him, with a smug glint in his eyes.  “How about that drink now?”

You flush, realizing you were caught. Tae had completely changed your initial opinion of him over the past 90 minutes, once you realized how quick-thinking he actually was. You were actually enjoying his random little asides and pieces of trivia, and it was harder to ignore how attractive he actually was… for a frat boy. “I’m not sure,” you start to demur, but his smile quickly turns into a pout.

“Come on, it’s Friday night and we totally blew past our goals for the evening. Let’s hang out and play some Mario Kart,” he wheedles, widening his brown eyes at you.  Behind him, you hear a snort from Yoongi. Tae had claimed that Yoongi’s headphones blocked out the world, but that clearly wasn’t the case. Yoongi had made the occasional dry aside during your conversations. He had a sarcastic sense of humor, but had also made some good suggestions for your presentation.

---

Earlier on, you’d finally asked Tae why he led the professor on so many tangents during class. “You’re so organized with this project, why do you ask all those random questions that take ages for him to answer?”

Taehyung had a sly smile on his face. “It turns out that the professor has certain areas of interest that he wasn’t allowed to put on the syllabus because the department is so strict about 100-level standards. So when I ask my questions, I get participation credit, right?”  You nod slowly. You can see Yoongi at his desk, turned in your direction. “But not only do I get the credit, I also get insight into what the professor is interested in. He goes off on these tangents about his pet interests, which I then put into my homework and papers. He’s flattered that I have an interest, so I get a better grade.”

“Oh my god, are you serious?” your mind was blown. Suddenly you understood where Tae’s presentation idea came from--the professor had indeed rambled on about it for a good 20 minutes in the previous week’s class.  You looked at Taehyung with new respect. His eyes were glimmering with mischief.

Yoongi nodded. “I took this class last year with the same professor. I taught this guy everything he knows.” He had a matching sly smile on his face.  These two were trouble.

“Yah! I have some tricks of my own!” Taehyung playfully threw a plushie at Yoongi’s head, ending the conversation, and you got back to your work.

---

You agree to play Mario Kart, so Taehyung takes you back to the living room. Yoongi stays behind in the room, claiming he’s on a roll with his song, and the other guys are nowhere to be seen. According to Tae, they’ve left for a party at another frat.

“You didn’t want to go with them?” You ask, sipping on peach soju.

Taehyung shrugs. “I didn’t want to wreck our flow, and I’m cool just chilling here for the evening. Do you wanna make things interesting and race for shots?” His eyes sparkle and he shakes the bottle of soju in your direction.

“Race for shots?”

“Winner of the race has to do a shot of soju. That way if one of us is better, the alcohol evens things out. We implemented the house rule because otherwise Jungkook would win every single round.”

What do you have to lose? You’re having fun, and you could use the handicap to be honest. “Sure, let’s do it. But I call Yoshi!”

Taehyung pouts. “No fair, Yoshi’s the best.”

Seven rounds later, you’re both flushed and giggly and constantly running your karts off the side of the Rainbow Road.  Taehyung’s tolerance is surprisingly low for a frat boy, and you aren’t doing much better. He keeps leaning into your side as he acts out the turns with his entire body. Whenever he presses up against your side, you get another whiff of that musky fragrance, and his body forms a line of heat against yours. 

He knocks back his penalty shot of soju but not all of it makes it into his mouth. You watch the droplets of liquid travel down his firm jawline onto his neck. Your mouth is suddenly dry--you find yourself wanting to track that droplet with your tongue.  He seems to know what you’re thinking. When you look back at his eyes, he’s staring at your mouth. “Hey. I don’t think I can take any more soju. How about a different penalty for winning the next race? Winner has to give the loser a kiss.”

You gulp. His mouth looks lush and red, and is glistening from the soju. He licks his lips slowly, cleaning off the last of the alcohol. Fueled by soju bravery, you lick your own lips. “How about we skip the race and go straight to the penalty?” You can feel a flush rise to your cheeks that isn’t solely from the alcohol.

In lieu of an answer, he leans forward and gently brushes his lips against yours. You close your eyes, open your mouth and fall into the kiss. His lips are soft, and when you slide your tongue against his, he tastes like peaches. As the kissing becomes more intense, he suddenly wraps his hands around your face, long fingers caressing your cheeks. You pull back for a moment, looking into his intense eyes. The eye contact is no longer uncomfortable, but you break it in order to make your wish of tracking the stray soju come true. You dip your head to brush kisses along his jawline, following the sticky traces, moving down to his neck. He gasps and lets out a deep moan. His voice has gotten impossibly deeper as you continue to kiss and gently suck on his neck. “Don’t stop, babe. That feels incredible.”

Suddenly, he slides his hands into your ponytail and pulls you off his neck, crushing his lips to yours again. As you let out tiny whines into his mouth, his hands roam down your body, grabbing you by the waist and lifting you into his lap.  You toss your head back at the feeling of his hardness trapped underneath you. You’re separated by several layers of clothing, but you can feel his cock grinding up into you. He reaches under your shirt and runs his hands up your back while you’re rubbing against him. Both of you are getting loud--until you suddenly hear the door open, and boisterous laughter wafting into the hall.

You spring off his lap and fling yourself back onto the couch next to him, but there’s no hiding what you’ve been up to. Both of you have wet, bitten lips, you’re heaving with breath, and he has a massive bulge in his pants. Luckily, you hear the noise move into the kitchen rather than in your direction.  Taehyung nods to himself, stands up, and takes your hands to pull you up as well. “Stay with me tonight?” he whispers.

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer before wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing you deeply while he walks you backwards to the stairs. You stumble a bit, the haze of lust and alcohol fogging up your coordination, but his grip is firm and steady.  This time, he lets you go ahead of him on the stairs, and you swear you can feel his heated gaze on your ass. Your intuition is proven right as he reaches out and squeezes your cheeks with both hands just as you reach the top landing. You manage to stifle your yelp in time before the boys in the kitchen hear you. “Tae!” you hiss, turning around on him.  He grins, unrepentant.

Tae takes your waist in his grasp again, crowding his body up against your back, and gently pushes you through the door with the Nas picture. You can feel him rubbing his cock against your ass as he slides his hands up your stomach towards your breasts. All of a sudden, you stop short as you take in the room. His roommate! Yoongi isn’t at his computer, and the room is only lit by the glow of his sleeping monitors and a lamp on Tae’s nightstand.  But you see a human-sized lump in the twin bed on the far end of the room.

Taehyung continues to move his hands up to your breasts, pinching at your nipples. Even through your shirt and bra, it feels amazing, but you reluctantly twist out of his grip.  “Tae, we can’t do this, Yoongi’s sleeping right there.” you hiss as quietly as possible.

Taehyung chuckles lowly. “Yoongi is the heaviest sleeper I know. He has his headphones on for white noise, and a sleeping mask. I promise you, he has no idea what’s happening right now,” he says in his normal speaking tone.  You look over at Yoongi again fearfully, but he hasn’t twitched a muscle. Sure enough, you can see Galaxy Buds in his ears, a Kumamon mask pulled over his eyes, and his blanket pulled up to his chin. He looks strangely angelic in his sleep. But you’re still unsure… until Tae pulls you into yet another kiss.

You can’t get enough of the taste of his lips, the feeling of his big hands roaming over your skin, or the smell of his neck when you bury your nose in it. All of your doubts float away in the Tae-and-soju haze.  You crawl onto his bed and let your legs fall open so that he can lower himself down in between them.

“You’re so sexy, I noticed you the first day in class,” he murmurs as he slowly pushes your shirt up, revealing your plain purple bra. “You were chewing on your pen in between taking notes, and you looked so annoyed every time I opened my mouth. That was the third reason I kept asking so many questions in class--to get a rise out of you.” He expertly flips the front clasp on your bra and pulls it apart, revealing your breasts to him. Before you can respond to his cheeky statement, he silences you by leaning down and licking across one of your nipples. He works his tongue around the nub, enjoying the feeling of it stiffening in his mouth.  You’re still trying to keep your cries quiet out of fear of waking Yoongi up, but he’s making it extremely difficult.

You run your hands down his back, grabbing the end of his shirt and starting to tug it up. “Take this off, Tae.” He sits up and pulls his shirt over his head, dislodging his baseball cap. He flings his shirt to the floor, picks up the cap, and settles it back on his head, brim facing backwards. He flashes you a V-sign when he catches you staring. You ignore the cap in favor of admiring the swathes of golden skin that have been revealed. His shoulders are broad, and his torso is lean and lightly muscled. You shrug off your shirt and bra as well, and pull him back down on top of you.

After a few minutes of heated kissing, you can feel his hips rocking into yours more urgently. Panting lightly, he pulls back and looks into your eyes. “Can I go down on you?”

“Hell yes.” You start to unbutton your pants, but he stops you, putting his hands over yours. He slowly kisses his way down your torso, detouring to lick at each of your nipples in turn, and flutters his tongue in your bellybutton, making you laugh. Finally, he slides off your pants and underwear in one smooth motion, leaving you completely bare to his gaze. Tae pushes your legs apart, running his hands up your thighs. He doesn’t drag it out any longer, but gently slides his thumb in between your lower lips, rubbing at the wetness around your hole.

“Seriously, so sexy.” Using both hands, Tae parts your lips to reveal your clit, and swipes at it with his tongue. Your hips kick up as you choke on a moan. His tongue is hot and wet, and feels amazing as he swirls it around your aching nub. He looks up at you. “Play with your nipples for me, baby.” You bring your hands up to follow his orders, when suddenly you notice movement on the far end of the room.  You turn your head to the side and lock eyes with Yoongi, who is decidedly not asleep and is watching you. You flinch, nearly kicking Tae in the head.

Yoongi flashes you a lazy smirk and waves at you and Taehyung, who has also noticed he’s awake.  Tae giggles and waves back. “Hi, Yoongi! Did we wake you up?” He leans back in towards you, but you hold him back with a hand on his forehead, bringing your other arm up to cover your breasts.

“Yoongi, I’m so sorry, Taehyung told me you would sleep through anything,” you babble.

“Now how could I sleep through this? And why would I want to?” Yoongi rumbles in a sleep-roughened voice. He sounds nonchalant as ever, but the high flush on his cheeks tell a different story, and you notice one of his hands is underneath his covers. He bites his lower lip, tongue peeking out to swipe across it.

Taehyung, ever observant, doesn’t overlook your interest. “Do you mind if he stays?” You turn your attention back to him where he’s still between your legs. His lips and chin are wet with your juices, his eyes are sparkling, and his forehead is flushed underneath that damn backwards ballcap.  You can feel his hands sneaking back up to your pussy, and you can feel Yoongi’s gaze like a weight. You’ve never felt so desirable and sexy. The soju haze has mostly left you, but you’re under a fog of lust and you don’t want to stop here. 

Locking eyes with Yoongi again, you shake your head. “I don’t mind. But I don’t want to be the only one naked here.”

Taehyung hurriedly raises himself up to his knees, almost falling over as he hurriedly shoves down his black pants. He’s not wearing any underwear underneath, so his large cock springs out and slaps against his stomach. Your breath catches. It’s incredible how hard it is for the size. It’s glistening at the tip, and you know it’s going to feel absolutely amazing inside you. But first, you want to taste him there and see if he’s as sweet as he is everywhere else.

You hear rustling from Yoongi’s side of the room, and glance over to see he has his covers rucked down to his waist, exposing his bare chest. He’s broader than Taehyung, with perky nipples you’d love to get your mouth on. He has one hand propping up his head to better enjoy the show, and the other hand is slowly, rhythmically moving under the covers.  You drag your gaze away from him and back to Taehyung, who’s put his mouth back on your clit and is slowly grinding his hips into the bed.

Now that you don’t have to worry about being quiet, your moans fill the air as Taehyung works the gasps out of your mouth. He slides one long finger into you, stroking it in and out as he suckles at your clit. His eyes are closed in bliss as he enjoys your taste, and you can feel the vibrations of his low moans.  You suddenly find yourself way too close to coming, and you don’t want to be done so quickly.

“Tae.” He opens his eyes and meets yours, sliding his finger out of your pussy and into his mouth. You almost forget what you were going to say, but gather the last threads of coherency back together. “Let me return the favor.”  You hear Yoongi quietly gasp and speed up his strokes.

You and Taehyung switch places on the bed, with him now lying on his back, looking up at you. You whip the cap off his head, running your fingers through his silky hair, before sitting back up on top of his legs. You feel shy for a moment to be so exposed, but the expression on his face reveals nothing but desire and lust. You can hear Yoongi’s little gasps from across the room as well, as you mouth down Tae’s toned torso towards his cock.  You swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, lapping up his sticky precome. It doesn’t taste like peaches, but you can’t get enough of his unique flavor.

Tae gets loud, unabashedly keeping up a steady stream of compliments in that deep voice, telling you how sexy you look as you slide your mouth down his cock. It’s too big for you to take the whole thing in, but you use your hand to slide up and down the parts your mouth can’t reach.  After a few minutes, you feel his hips start to jerk up more, and he wraps his hand in your ponytail to gently pull you off. “Stop… I’m so close, but I really want to fuck you.”

You press one last open-mouthed kiss to the head of his cock, and then knee-walk your way back up his body to pull him in for a heated liplock. After grabbing a condom and rolling it on, he brings his hands to your core again, plunging two fingers into your pussy while sucking on your neck right underneath your ear, making you gasp.  His fingers feel great, but you’re after something bigger. Batting his hand aside, you grasp his cock and slowly take the entire length in until your thighs press against his sharp hipbones. You both gasp and pause for a moment, enjoying the feeling until you have to move. Leaning forward and resting your hands on his shoulders, your lips meet once again as you start to rock back and forth on his cock.

He’s stroking up into you at the perfect angle and speed. You can barely keep your lips connected to his, until you finally pull away to gasp for air. His eyes are squeezed shut underneath his thick eyebrows, and he’s biting his lower lip almost painfully.  Before you get lost in the pleasure, you turn to the side again, and see Yoongi looks almost as lost, biting the side of his hand to stay quiet as he rapidly strokes himself underneath the covers. Seeing the effect you’re having on these two men causes you to clench tightly on Taehyung’s length. If you can just get a little friction, you’re so close to coming apart.

Taehyung suddenly moans sharply, grabs your hips, and forces you down onto his cock as his hips hammer up into you. You can see his pulse pounding in his neck as his breathing gradually slows. A bright flush spreads across his cheeks as you realize that he just came.

Taehyung gently raises you up by the hips so he can pull out of you, panting heavily. You let out a little whine--you were so close to coming! You can’t help but grind down on his flat stomach, trying to get any friction on your throbbing clit. His eyes are closed and his expression is completely blissed out as he scrubs his hand through his sweaty hair. Suddenly, he opens his eyes and gives you a pout. “Shit, babe--that felt way too good, I didn’t mean to come that fast. You didn’t get off yet, right?” Tae’s voice is gravelly and satisfied, in contrast to his puppy eyes. “Give me a second and I’ll go down on you again.”

You open your mouth to accept his offer, when you’re interrupted from an unexpected corner. “That won’t be necessary,” Yoongi says. As you and Tae both swivel to look over at him, Yoongi abruptly raises himself off his bed. You can see spots of color high on his cheeks, and his lips are flushed and wet from where he’s been biting them. His pupils are so dilated, his eyes are practically black. Looking further down, the wet spot on the front of the bulge in his boxers leave you no doubt that he’s been enjoying the show. But he can’t stand by and merely watch any longer. 

He stalks in your direction, unceremoniously stripping off his underwear to reveal his flushed cock. He gently strokes himself a few times, spreading the precome up and down his shaft before grabbing a condom from Tae’s bedside table and smoothly rolling it on.

“Is this okay?” he whispers into your ear as he climbs onto the bed behind you where you’re still straddling Taehyung’s legs. You gulp and nod, grinding yourself onto Tae’s abs a little harder. This is straight out of your deepest, darkest fantasies. “Baby, I need you to use your words.” Yoongi’s voice drops even further as he leans closer. You can smell the woodsy note of his cologne and feel the heat radiating off of his hands, which are planted on the bed on either side of your hips.

“Y-yes, this is more than okay,” you manage to gasp out. You start to rise off of Taehyung, to move off of him so that Yoongi has room to maneuver. But Yoongi instead grabs your hips firmly, keeping you in place as he presses his full body up against yours. This is the first time he’s touched you all night, and his big hands feel so good, slightly digging into your flesh. You’re going to have the marks from this encounter on your skin for quite some time, and you can’t get enough of it.

“Okay, Tae, watch and learn. This is how you get the job done.” Yoongi teasingly tells the other man over your shoulder, before ducking his head down to your neck. He trails his pouty lips up and down your skin, leaving a sucking mark on the sensitive spot right beneath your ear that Taehyung had been teasing earlier. He had clearly been paying close attention to the spots that made you shudder. You tilt your head to give him better access, reveling in having his attention on you. You can feel him grinding his hard cock against your ass, so close to where you’re feeling aching and empty. You try to tilt your hips backwards, but his grip is too firm.

Taehyung is completely unfazed by the extra body straddling his legs. He smirks and makes himself comfortable, putting his hands underneath his head on the pillow. “Teach me your ways, sunbae.” He casts his mischievous gaze down your body, lingering on your hard, flushed nipples before looking down at where Yoongi’s cock is slowly sliding through your parted lips. The smooth head of Yoongi’s length occasionally bumps up against your clit, sending sparks of pleasure throughout your body. You’re practically shaking from your delayed orgasm, and aching for more. These frat boys are goddamned teases!

Finally, Yoongi uses his grip on you to pull you backwards where he wants you, and slides into your dripping core in one smooth motion. You’re so wet, his hard cock strokes in and out of you easily. You squeeze your eyes shut and let out a shuddering moan. It feels absolutely incredible to be filled up again. Tae was long, but Yoongi is thick. Yoongi slides his hands around your waist, holding you up as he drives himself into you more firmly. You can hear him breathing heavily, letting out low grunts.

“Tae was right--you really do feel amazing,” he rasps. “But I have- better- self- control-” as he punctuates his statement with little bites to your shoulders. With effort, you turn your head to look him in the eyes so you can let him know what you think of his smug comment. But your words are lost as he immediately captures your lips in a searing kiss. He knows exactly what to do with his tongue, stroking it into your mouth in the same rhythm that he’s fucking you in. He takes one hand off your waist and slides it up into your hair, grasping your ponytail firmly and using it to turn your head to exactly the right angle so he can continue to plunder your mouth.

You’re lost in the pleasure of his lips, his hands, and his dick until you suddenly feel another set of hands running up the underside of your breasts, tweaking and tugging at your nipples.  You break away from Yoongi with a moan and look down at Taehyung, who’s made himself known again. He sends another smirk in your direction. “Don’t mind me, I just thought these could use some more attention.” He meets Yoongi’s eyes and grins cheekily.

Yoongi lets out a low growl. “Shut it, brat.” But in comparison to his harsh words, his touch is gentle as he takes your hands and lowers you forward until you’re now on all fours directly above Taehyung.  Taehyung immediately takes advantage, cupping your breasts in his large hands, rubbing his thumbs over your peaked nipples as he surges up to reattach his mouth to your neck. With you firmly in place, Yoongi grabs your hips again and doubles the speed of his thrusts.

You’re now surrounded on all sides as Taehyung sucks yet another hickey into your neck and Yoongi’s cock slides right up against your G-spot.  You have two sets of hands roaming your curves and all you can do is kneel there and give yourself over to the pleasure. You feel the tingles starting in your toes and slowly rising up through your entire body. You’re letting out a stream of stuttering moans in concert with Yoongi’s deeper gasps and the wet sounds of Taehyung kissing your neck. As your vision starts to go hazy, Yoongi slides one of his hands around your hip and firmly rubs your clit in small circles.

“Come on baby, I can tell you’re so close. Let go, come for us,” Yoongi bites out as his hips stutter into you.  Taehyung doesn’t say anything, but lowers his head and captures one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking hard. After one more firm press of Yoongi’s fingers, you absolutely lose it, shaking apart as your pussy clenches around Yoongi’s cock.  You actually black out for a moment from how good it feels after being on the verge of orgasm for so long.

When you return to yourself, you can hear Yoongi’s little grunts and gasps as his hands squeeze on your hips and his hips kick forward one, two more times. When he’s finished coming, he slumps forward, panting. His sudden weight on your back sends you crashing onto Taehyung’s body with a whump.

“Oh! Get off me old man, you’re crushing me!” Taehyung suddenly breaks the mood by reaching around and giving Yoongi a hard slap on the ass.  Yoongi grumbles something under his breath, pulling out of you and rolling off to the side of the bed. You break out into little giggles, still feeling a little lightheaded from your orgasm.  Tae wraps his arms around you and strokes his hands up and down your back. “How are you feeling?”

“That was… wow. I hope you took good notes, because that should definitely be on the exam. Yoongi can be my teacher anyday.” You send a flirtatious smile Yoongi’s way.  Yoongi lights up with a wide, gummy grin that completely transforms his face. You can’t believe this is the same man that just fucked the life out of you. Both of these frat boys have been full of pleasant surprises tonight.

“So, more study sessions in the future? I have so many more questions to ask...” you finally shut Taehyung up by pulling him into a kiss as you feel Yoongi’s hand start to creep back up your side. You have a feeling this is going to be one of the most satisfying projects of your college career.

[secretcloudstrawberry]

A Million Dreams ~ TMNT 2012 Human AU Fanfic

April O'Neil was running, running from robotic droids that were after her, and her younger sister Iris. The Droids were gaining on them. April was carrying her younger sister, who was wrapped in a cloak so the droids didn't get her. April's red hair that was usually in a ponytail, was partly out as she was running. Her usual outfit that she usually wore was ripped in several places due to several sharp things. " April? "Iris asked. April held her sister close. "Don't worry Iris, I'll keep you safe." She promised, kissing the top of her cloak where her head was.

The droids were getting closer, the robotic footsteps could be heard behind them. "Give us what we want. "One of the droids said, extracting a laser from its hand, proceeding to shoot April and Iris.

April ducked her head, clutching Iris close. The droids kept shooting them, but luckily April kept them both safe. She finally made it to a alleyway, luckily the droids didn't go inside so She had just enough time to set her sister down and explain to her in the best way she could what was about to happen. Iris looked at her sister, her blue eyes staring at her in concern. Her hair colour matched her sister, only her hair was a lot shorter than hers, it framed her face quite nicely. She was wearing a lilac dungaree dress, with a white T-shirt underneath, her shoes, a old pair of sneakers that April found in the dump that were just about fitting her. She fiddled with one of her dungaree straps nervously waiting for whatever her older sister had to tell her.

" Iris, I need to take you somewhere. Somewhere where the droids won't get you. I know it's a place where I can take you."

"But what about you April? Won't the droids get you?" Iris asked worriedly. April takes her hand, squeezing it tightly. "Don't worry I'll be safe. But we can't be together anymore, we have to be apart so that the droids will only search for one of us. They've already captured dad, I don't want them capturing you too. So, that's why, I'm going to take you somewhere where the droids won't bother looking. I'm going to keep you safe I promise. So come with me, I know where to take you."

Iris quietly obeyed her sister, as she picked her up and put the cloak over her. She ran out of the alleyway, looking left and right to make sure the droids hadn't followed, luckily they hadn't. April kept running, until she finally made it to the old rundown building a couple of streets over. She set Iris down, putting her hand on her shoulders, forcing the girl to look up at her. "April, I don't wanna lose you. "Iris sobs, April pulled Iris into a hug, proceeding to sing to her.

"Every night I lie in bed

The brightest colors fill my head

A million dreams are keeping me awake

I think of what the world could be

A vision of the one I see

A million dreams is all it's gonna take

A million dreams for the world we're gonna make...." April sang softly, hugging her sister tight.

Sirens could be heard in the distance. The police. April quickly pushed her sister to the door, giving her her plush doll, which was actually hers when she was little. She knocked on the door, quickly a kind woman answered the door. “Please. “April begged. The woman smiled concerningly, guiding the young girl Close to her. “What about you, dear? “The woman asked. April shook her head adamantly. “I can’t. I’m being hunted, my dad has already been captured, and it looks like I’m next. I needed to keep my little sister Iris safe, so please! Look after her. “ The woman nodded as though this was a complete and utter normal circumstance for her. “Of course. I’ll keep her as safe as I can.” The woman promised. April looked at her gratefully, giving Iris another hug, probably her last.

“Iris, sweetie, I have to go okay? I have to go and hide, I love you. Be a good girl for me, okay? Do everything the nice lady says.”

Iris nodded. Trying to suppress tears. “Okay sissy, I’ll be a good girl… I love you too. “ Iris hugs her Big Sister, hugging her tight, squeezing every last hug that she could. “She’s over here! “One of the droids shout. April quickly pulled away, taking off her necklace and giving it to Iris. April quickly ran off, leaving Iris and the orphanage owner. The orphanage owner turned to her, bending down, helping her put the necklace on. “I’m Miss Lily, and like I said to your sister, I’ll take care of you, okay? “Iris nodded.

Lily guided Iris in to the orphanage, The orphanage had long corridors, lots of different rooms presumably filled with other children and teenagers. She guided Iris to a room the furthest down the hallway, Lily knocked on it, causing someone with brown hair and blue eyes to answer it. “Miss Lily? “The boy asked, tilting his head in confusion.

“ sorry to wake you, Leo,” Lily apologised. “But, someone brought their sister to me, it appears they are being hunted and they didn’t want the same outcome for their younger sister.” She gestures to Iris. “Will you get her settled with your brothers? “Lily asked politely. “Of course Miss Lily.” The boy named Leo said, gesturing Iris inside of his shared room with his siblings. “I’ll be back with some pyjamas for Iris in a moment.” She said to Leo who nodded. “Would you like anything to eat?” Lily offers, Iris nodded her head slowly. “Alright sweetie, I’ll go get you some pyjamas and some food, okay? Go ahead and settle with Leo and his brothers and make yourself comfortable, I’ll be back shortly.” Iris and Leo both nodded, as the other gestured her in, shutting the door behind him.

“Woah, Who’s the new girl?” A angry voice asked.

Iris was shaking, hiding behind Leo.” Raphael, don’t scare her like that! Miss Lily said we had to take care of her, her sister is being hunted, and she doesn’t want her younger sister to be hunted also.”

Raphael folded his arms. “Okay… So what does this have to do with us exactly?” Leo facepalmed. “What part of ‘her sister is being hunted, and she doesn’t want her younger sister to be hunted also’ don’t you understand?”

Raphael rolled his eyes. “I perfectly understood it Leonardo, I’m not stupid. “

A boy wearing purple pyjamas and working on a laptop on the other side of the room, snorted. “That is the biggest lie ever, Raph, you know that. “He said, continuing to type something, before shutting his laptop down and putting it away. He walked over, bending down in front of Iris

“ sorry about my big brothers, they can be mean. I’m Donatello, but you can just call me Donnie.” He responded in a calm and gentle voice

Iris stepped out from behind Leo, walking in front of Donnie. “I-I’m I-Iris.” Iris replied on the verge of tears. Donatello hugged her. “Shhh, it’s okay Iris… It’s okay...” Donnie comforted. “ this is a big change for you, isn’t it? But don’t worry. Miss Lily is really really nice, she and us will take care of you, okay?” Iris nodded her head, hugging into him more.

“ how old are you Iris?”

“4.” She responded, as Donnie was holding her on his lap, rubbing her back.

“Ah, so your two years younger than Mikey then! “Leonardo said excitedly. The boy named Mikey lept out of bed at the mention of his name, racing over and cannonballing himself into Iris in a hug. Iris quickly pulled away, starting to get upset and overwhelmed. Donnie cradled her in his arms, kissing the top of her forehead. “It’s okay, Mikey just got a bit excited, that’s all. He didn’t mean to. “He comforted and Iris nodded.

Lily soon knocked on the door. Leo opened the door.

“ I brought you some pyjamas sweetie, I’m not sure which colour you would like but I brought some options for you. I have some food cooking for you in the microwave, so I’ll bring it as soon as it’s finished, Leo will show you to the bathroom so you can get changed and freshen up, okay?” Iris nodded. Lily nodded, leaving the room to check on Iris’s meal.

Leonardo gestured her to the room. “ would you like Donnie to help you? These pyjamas can be quite difficult.” Iris nodded, as Donnie followed her. As he picked up the several pairs of pyjamas that Lily had offered, taking them into the bathroom. Iris following closely behind.

Once in the bathroom and the light turned on. Iris could see the bathroom was a very bright white colour with cute cartoon character decals, most of them ranging from the hit TV show Space Heroes. Iris looked around the room examining every inch of the room, from the toiletries, to the four toothbrushes Soon to be fine sitting in a cupholder all in their presumably favourite colours. Hearing Donatello sit down placing several pairs of pyjamas on the floor, Iris was brought out of her trance, looking over all of them.

“ which one?” Donatello whispered. Iris stared at all of them.

“ The periwinkle one please.” She whispered quietly, The boy opposite her nodded. Helping her slowly take off her dungaree dress, he gently and carefully unbuttoned as she was shaking.

She missed April.

She missed her so much.

By the time she had even five minutes to process any of this, Donatello, the sweet boy that he was, had already helped her into her pyjamas. But she didn’t remember that, all she remembered was her putting her legs up, to get the dress off, and then putting her legs up again to put the pyjama pants on.

“You okay there, dove?” He asked. Dove? She’s never been called that, ever. Her breathing was getting very difficult right now, her eyes started to dart around the room, looking anywhere but the boy in front of her.

“Iris.” Donatello said sternly yet gently. “Can you look at me? Look at me, right at me. We’re going to focus on something together, okay?” She nodded, her vocal chords deciding to shut down. She stared at one of the details on the wall Donatello’s gaze following her,

“Atta girl.” Donnie Said softly. “Try and match my breathing, okay? “

Several breathing exercises later, Iris was a lot more calm, in that time, the boy opposite her head and managed to check her vitals, to make sure it was nothing other than a panic attack from everything she experienced. Iris still wasn’t talking, Donatello still crouched on the floor gripping her hands, rubbing them in slow calming motions.

Iris tried to speak, her mouth moving, but no sound emanated. It looked like she was lip syncing, her head was all static, all she could just about see was Donatello staring up at her an mixture of worry and concern on his features, as he gently, ever so gently rubbed her hands in calming motions to ease her breathing.

“ April… “She whispered.

“Who?” Donnie asked.

“A-April, my sister. “Iris said.

Oh. Oh. That’s why she was managing? Her sister.

“You miss her, huh?” Donnie presumed.

“Yeah.” Iris replies, scouring her clothes for the necklace. Donatello found it, kindly putting it on for her “is this to remember her?” He presumed again. She nodded, taking his offering hand as he led them out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Glaring at Raphael, as his lips were about to make a not so nice remark. “Don’t even try, Raphael. “ Donnie said, guiding little Iris to his bed where a tray of not long cooked super noodles was waiting for her, with a tiny packet of chips, some cookies, and some fruit. He gestured her to sit down, handing her the tray as she sat down, as he sat next to her.

Once finished, Mikey quickly took the plate to the kitchen, coming back and not even a minute later to tell everyone that she did it. “Great job Mikey, thanks for helping. Now, I really think it’s time for bed. We’ve had a lovely day, well, not a long day, but a long night. As for Iris, she certainly has had a long day.” Leo said, sad girl was nearly asleep. Donnie smiled, pulling the almost asleep girl onto his lap, kissing her forehead lightly. He shuffled onto the bed, with Iris still in his lap.

He quickly got out his headphones, gently slipping them on Iris’s tiny little ears, playing calming Music to keep her relaxed.

Donnie lay down, pulling Iris close to him. I was mild, looking at Donnie as she slept peacefully. Yeah. Things would be okay, she would be safe, they would protect her. April would be safe. Just as she promised.

Hi! I hope you enjoyed my first TMNT 2012 fanfic! This is the first chapter! I apologise if I get them OOC, I just like them as a younger version of themselves. Because let’s be honest, they are so cute. I know the chapter kind of sucks. But I tried.

Now I’m going to tell you how old they are

April is 16 (the same age as in the show)

Iris is 4

Leo is 10

Donnie is 9

Raph is 8

Mikey is 6

[janeofcakes]

Keep Your Friends Close..: Chapter 9

Oh my god, friends, am I really using my powers for good? Am I?? I don’t even know what to say, so I’ll change the subject. Once again, I can’t believe a whole week has gone by. I can barely keep track of the days and now my schedule has changed. Idk what next week is going to be like. Here’s hoping I don’t miss any zoom meetings, am I right? Ha! I truly hope you are all well and that this chapter brings blissful distraction. I love you all. I really do.

-----

How can I stand here with you and not be moved by you? Would you tell me how could it be any better than this? You’re all I want. You’re all I need. You’re everything.                  --Lighthouse, Everything

Sherlock opens his eyes slowly and shakes his head. The lights in the study are still on and the laptop screen glows with the website he was viewing before he fell asleep. He leans down to pick up the mouse from where he knocked it to the floor and puts his palm right into the small collection of drool that had formed on the desk. He looks at it with a disgusted grimace and quickly drops the mouse on the desk to reach for a tissue. 

He hears it again as he wipes his hand. A beeping chime. He blinks a few times. It takes his sleep addled brain a moment to process it as his phone and clearly what woke him. Sherlock debates on whether to answer it or ignore it in favor of continuing his research. Or simply collapse into his bed. With a sigh, Sherlock rises and goes to one of the cushioned chairs next to the fireplace in search of the noisy device. He does not know why he has two chairs. He has never invited anyone into this room, not even Molly. The leather chair in a rich, deep burgundy is the one he always sits in. It is wide and very comfortable and suits him perfectly. The dark green velvety one is a mystery. He still cannot remember why he bought it or what he was thinking at the time. It just seemed like a good match to his own chair at the time, like the two were meant to be together and he could not separate them.

Before he begins his search of the chair, the chime of the phone draws his eyes to the small table at the right of the chair. He knows who it is, of course. He gave the man his own ringtone, after all. He considers hitting ignore and going to his room. He even turns in that direction, but stops when he sees a notification of five missed calls from the same number. Sighing again, Sherlock picks up the phone and answers.

“John?”

“Hi. Good morning?” John’s voice is apprehensive. 

“What do you want?” Sherlock is terse and wants to get to the point quickly.

“Right. Well, I...I’d like to talk to you.”

“Fine. Talk.”

“I thought face to face would be better.”

“Why? It’s…” Sherlock asks testily as he glances at a clock, “2:15 in the morning, John. Jesus Christ.”

“I know. I’m sorry, but it’s very important.”

Sherlock rolls his eyes closed and pinches the bridge of his nose between two fingers.

“Fine. Come over.”

Sherlock’s eyes pop open wide when the sound of gentle knocking reaches his ears. He walks to the door to the room and peers down the hall to the condo’s front door. He glances suspiciously in the opposite direction, toward his bedroom, and then back to the front door. He cannot see it from this position and steps out further into the hall.

“John, where are you?”

“Uh, funny thing, that,” John clears his throat and then says in a very serious voice. “I’m at your door.”

Sherlock instantly ends the call and drops his phone on a narrow table in the hall. Putting his hands on his hips, he stares down at it and puffs out a short, incredulous breath. He turns his head to look down the hall in disbelief. John is back. To talk to him. At 2-fucking-17 in the morning. Sherlock should be angry, he should be furious, but he isn’t. When John did not go to practice that afternoon, he was certain he would not see him again in any situation other than meetings. He thought that was the end of it when he stormed out and left John alone in his apartment. But here he is.

With a deep inhalation and his head held high, Sherlock strides down the hall and jerks the door open. John stares back at him in shock, jerking his head back a fraction in surprise. His phone is still in his left hand as though debating whether or not to call Sherlock back and try again. Sherlock scans his body and face, deducing everything in seconds. He narrows his eyes and gives John a severe look.

“You remained in your office this afternoon and then worked late into the evening. You have not been to your apartment, but...” Sherlock speaks in an accusing tone and glares at the doctor. Then his expression changes slightly, his brows beginning to arch upward. “Your attacker returned.”

He pauses when John gasps. There was no confrontation, but John is still visibly shaken and has certainly experienced some sort of trauma. Sherlock cocks a brow and shifts his weight for a better look. He can see the doctor is not injured this time, but feels he should make the inquiry regardless.

“John, are you all right?”

“I’m sorry,” the words seem to spill from his lips unbidden and he continues to stare at Sherlock. His surprise, however, quickly morphs into a sort of panic-stricken sincerity. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said any of those things. None of it is true. You’re the best friend I’ve ever… I’m sorry.”

Now it is Sherlock’s turn to gape. The best friend he has ever had? That is what he was going to say. Sherlock presses his lips into a thin line and almost shakes his head. Someone as friendly and likeable as John has many friends. He gets along with everyone so easily. How could Sherlock be his best?

He tables the matter, tucking it away in his mind palace for later thought. He steps to the side and gestures John inside. There is a flash of astonishment in his eyes, but John still steps in silently. The two enter the living room together. John looks far calmer than he did at the door when Sherlock turns to face him again.

“Are you injured?” Sherlock knows the answer, but sticks with decorum.

“No,” John answers simply. He seems entranced, as if in shock. His eyes have not left Sherlock since they entered the room. Sherlock moves to sit on the long, plush couch and catches John’s hand with his own, pulling him down by his side.

“Tell me what happened,” he demands. “Leave nothing out.”

John looks up from their still joined hands with a look of wonder on his face. Sherlock glances down at them and releases John’s hand, pulling his own away. Seemingly dazed, John looks from Sherlock’s hand to his own for a moment. When he finally meets the coach’s eyes, John seems more himself and the clouds in his eyes have lifted. He presses his lips together and crinkles his brow.

“There’s not much to tell,” he says. “I was at my desk. Decided to call it a night. The bastard came in when I was hunched over to pick up a pen.”

Sherlock’s brows lower minutely, his eyes narrowing very slightly and sharpening as he watches John. A whole list of scenarios and theories start to play out in his mind. Many of them couple with individual details of John’s apartment from the night before. Details the attacker had not meant to leave, that no one was meant to see. But Sherlock did. 

“I ducked under my desk and held my breath until he left,” John blows out a long breath the way he must have done when his attacker left the office. Sherlock can see the tension in his body. “You were right.”

“What?” Sherlock’s deductions come to a screaming halt and he blinks for effect. “Sorry. I’m what?”

“Very funny,” John tips toward him for a split second with a grin on his face. He gives the coach a friendly shove and then leans back again. “Rub it in, why don’t you?”

“I will. Thank you,” Sherlock teases, his heart warmed at the sight of that spectacular smile. His eyes linger on John’s lips a little too long, but John does not seem to notice or care in the slightest. Sherlock quickly meets John’s eyes again and flashes a winning mile. “You’ll excuse me for a moment while I grab a pen and paper. I need to record the time and date.”

“All right, all right. Oi!” John grabs his hand when he begins to rise and pulls him back down. He lands a bit closer to John than he was, their thighs pressed together now and Sherlock’s stomach flips. His mind does too, stuttering for a moment as he looks at John.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks Sherlock cheekily.

Grinning like a fool now, Sherlock suddenly wants to pull the doctor into his lap and kiss him.

Kiss him?

God, he is so fucked.

Sherlock shrugs and doesn’t answer John at first, not trusting his own voice. But he cannot remain silent for long, especially when it means the joke will end and John’s bright, friendly eyes will fill with concern. Not that they would be any less beautiful, of course.

God damn, so fucked.

“Nowhere, apparently,” he answers coyly before he can catch himself. And what the fuck was that? He makes his voice more normal, pitches it a fraction higher and continues. “So what is it that I’m right about?”

“I can’t go back to my flat,” John sighs, his shoulders drooping. “Not until this guy is caught or gets bored with me.”

Sherlock’s brows raise a bit and he opens his mouth to speak, but does not get any words out.

“First place he went when he left the stadium,” John continues. “He spoke with someone on his mobile. He said he would check the exam rooms and then go back to my flat.”

Sherlock watches as John runs his hands through his hair. He shifts on the couch just enough that their thighs are no longer touching. Sherlock’s leg feels cold from the lack of contact. He tries not to let his mind file away the sensation of John’s warmth against his leg, not to imagine what it would feel like had it been skin on skin, but his efforts are in vain. At the very least, he pushes it all into a closet so he can think.

“I’ll get a hotel,” John sighs. “I just wanted to tell someone. Talk it out, you know?” 

He pauses, the war in his mind of whether or not to continue plain on his face. Sherlock wants to answer the unasked question. No, it won’t be too much. I want to know. I want to know. For a moment, Sherlock believes John will keep it to himself and then his forehead crinkles as he looks at Sherlock with uncertain eyes. 

“It scared the shit out of me,” he mutters quietly. “If I hadn’t dropped that pen, he would’ve walked right in and dropped me.”

“John,” his voice is so light, he can scarcely hear it himself. He moves a hand deftly to rest atop John’s. The room is silent. Neither man says a word. Even their breaths have the good sense not to be heard. And they look at one another. Watch one another. A whole conversation transpires between their eyes.

I can’t lose this. 

You didn’t. It’s all right.

I can’t lose you.

You won’t.

And then the spell is broken. It is gone as quickly as it came. Sherlock’s hand is on the couch instead of John’s hand and Sherlock almost doubts it happened at all. When he looks at John, the doctor has a thoughtful look on his face, as though weighing all the pros and cons of the plan he has conjured.

“You will not get a hotel,” Sherlock announces firmly. “You will stay here.”

“What? No, I can’t stay here. I’ll put you in danger.”

“If they wanted to hurt me, they would have tried by now.”

“That’s not… You may not be a target, but you could get in the crossfire.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You don’t know that!”

“John,” Sherlock grabs onto his biceps and looks him straight in the eye, “I won’t believe you’re safe unless you’re here with me. If you stay in a hotel, I will go with you.”

“You can’t do that. It’s ridiculous!”

The coach fixes him with a determined glare and says nothing.

“Sherlock, you’ll get yourself killed,” John reprimands. 

For a moment, Sherlock is afraid he has said too much, pushed too hard. ‘A bit not good’, as John would say and he has already learned that the doctor does not like being told what to do. But then the corner of John’s mouth curls into a lopsided smile.

“Or locked up,” John finishes.

A grin blooms on Sherlock’s face and John quickly follows suit. He takes his hands from John’s arms, rests them on his own thighs, and pushes himself to standing. John does the same and they find themselves face to face, chest to chest. John inhales deeply as Sherlock exhales from his open mouth in tandem. God, John is beautiful. His scent is intoxicating, all vanilla and cinnamon and tea. Sherlock resists the urge to lean forward and breathe it in, but only just. Instead, he clears his throat and tries to sound nonchalant.

“I’ll find you something to sleep in. Would you like clean sheets?” he asks politely, shuffling backwards a step.

“No, no, the ones from last night are fine,” John waves a hand easily, but with their proximity, it runs right into Sherlock’s chest. He stares at it for a moment where it rests, palm down, on the taller man’s pectoral, his pinky a hair’s breadth from one nipple. 

Sherlock’s body tenses at first, but soon relaxes into the touch. John looks up at him, eyes searching and Sherlock wishes he could deduce him in these situations. He wants to know his every thought and feeling, but John becomes so hard to read when Sherlock wants to most. He is not sure if John is incredibly adept at hiding his emotions when he wants to or if Sherlock’s own mind simply gives up and drowns in all that is John. Perhaps the fact that he can say ‘these situations’ tells it all. But it doesn’t.

“Um,” John lifts his hand and the skin beneath Sherlock’s clothes feels immediately chilled at the loss of John’s warmth. John’s brows raise in uncertainty and his forehead wrinkles as he struggles for words. As adorable as it is, Sherlock bails him out.

“I’ll get those pajamas,” he nearly whispers and steps away.

“Right. I’ll just head for the bedroom then.”

“Please do,” Sherlock calls from down the hall. He cringes at his own words and the myriad of ways they could be interpreted. Resolving to exercise more caution, Sherlock rifles through his pajama drawer until he holds dark blue satin in his hands. The fabric is soft against his skin and he imagines the shiver John will feel when he puts it on. Oh, yes, he would very much like to see John in these. Which is why he should put them right back in the drawer and keep looking.

Sherlock shoves the pajamas under another pair and rolls his eyes. God, he’s such an idiot. Was his experience with Victor not enough? If Molly had not convinced him to leave California and coach derby, Sherlock honestly doesn’t know what would have become of him. Probably let Victor persuade him to come back and live out his life as a trophy, a sex object. Victor was good at making people accept blame and do what he wanted. It was not always that way, of course. He was sweet in college, but the better he became at practicing law, the more demanding he became and Sherlock found he could no longer live up to the expectations. Success can change a person and the resulting betrayal was what hurt most of all. 

Sherlock blinks his eyes and shakes his head. Jesus, he is getting maudlin. He grabs a pair of pajamas and heads for the spare bedroom. He must put a stop to this before it gets any worse. He cannot be in love with John Watson. Or anyone else, for that matter. He cannot open himself up to the kind of pain again.

Distracted by his thoughts, Sherlock pushes open the bedroom door John left ajar without knocking and is three steps in before he stops in his tracks, mouth hanging open. John is standing on his tiptoes on a chair, reaching up to unscrew the light bulb from the ceiling fixture. He is illuminated by only the two bedside lamps and the white t-shirt he has on, sweater having been discarded, glows golden in the light. His hair is like a halo shining on his crown. A thin strip of stomach shows from where that golden tee rides up with his stretch. Sherlock’s breath catches. He snaps his mouth closed just in time for John to finish with the bulb and look down at him.

“Oh, hey,” he jumps to the floor. “This blew when I flipped the switch. Do you have any extras?”

“Yes, of course. In the supply closet,” Sherlock takes the grey one from his hand and holds out the pajamas. “I’ll go get one.”

“Ta,” John replies, taking the clothing. “Christ, Sherlock, these are the nicest pajamas I’ll have worn in the whole of my life! Are you sure you don’t want to give me another pair?”

“What?” he looks at John’s pajama clad hand and almost curses aloud when he sees that same dark blue pair he thought he had shoved back in the drawer. “No, no, it’s fine. As long as you don’t mind them pooling around your ankles.”

Sherlock closes his eyes and blows a long breath out of his nose. He could not have said anything more stupid if he tried. He angles his chin down and tilts his head ever so slightly with a grimace on his face. He wants to sink into a hole and disappear. He never wants to open his eyes again, at least not until John has left. John won’t, of course, Sherlock is in his room, much like when he was in his office. Oh, god. Sherlock’s eyes snap open in panic. They are going to live together until John’s attacker is caught and who knows how long that will be.

Quickly schooling his face, Sherlock looks at John with an uneasy gaze. John, on the other hand, seems to be perfectly at ease and wears a little grin on his face. He looks both like he knows something no one else does, and like Sherlock has done something incredibly funny and not at all offensive.

“I’m sorry,” he straightens his spine and continues in a most dignified manner. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

“I know what you meant, you git,” John snorts. He pats Sherlock’s shoulder and smiles kindly. “Don’t worry about it.”

The coach nods once and tries to loosen his tense shoulders, especially the one John had touched. If it still tingles, Sherlock ignores it, as well as the flip of his damn stomach.

“Well then, I’ll just get changed then and call it a day,” John tells him. “You’re sure you’re okay with this?”

“Yes. Yes, I am definitely fine. Just fine,” he quirks a smile. “It’ll be nice to have some company.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” John chuckles. “Working and now living together. You’ll get tired of me.”

“I’ll never get tired of you,” Sherlock says honestly.

John does not answer. He simply stares at Sherlock with gentle eyes, unabashed fondness showing in them. He tilts his head and wets his lips. Sherlock wonders what they feel like, what they taste like. Stop it. Stop it!

“I just…” Sherlock clears his throat. “I’ll let you get to bed.”

“All right,” John replies softly. “Good night, Sherlock.”

“Good night, John.”

Sherlock turns to leave and has nearly closed the door when a thought springs to mind. He spins on his heel and shoves the door open again. John stares in surprise, taking a step back.

“I spoke to Molly,” Sherlock blurts.

“What?”

“I left the stadium early last night to visit and she remembered something.”

“Right!” John tosses the pajamas aside and steps up to Sherlock again. “The note! I forgot all about it. She left a note for me, but there weren’t any details. It said she told you though. I was going to come here straight away, but…well... I went home instead.”

Sherlock ignores thoughts of shots fired and John sliding down the fire escape. He resolutely keeps his mind on what Molly told him, so he does not imagine John’s body lying cold and motionless in his apartment or in the alley.

“Molly skidded into the pack and hit hard. All four of them went down,” he says, setting the stage once again.

“I remember,” John nods.

“Do you remember StartUp putting her hand on the back of Molly’s neck?”

“Well, sure. I figured she was trying to jam her head into that other blocker’s elbow,” John replies thoughtfully. “That Moriarty has rules all his own.”

“He does, indeed,” Sherlock’s lip curls into a snarl. He leans in conspiratorially and continues. “Molly remembers feeling a sharp pain in the back of her neck just before they all fell. She didn’t take notice in the scuffle and was distracted by the nosebleed after. Even when she did think of it a couple days ago, she ignored it. Just part of falling in a mass of other people, but it occurred to her again earlier today and when it did, she just couldn’t shake the idea that there was something wrong about it.”

“The puncture!” John’s eyes are wide and excited, like working out a mystery is his calling. “It was StartUp. But how could she hide a needle in her wrist guard?”

“Moriarty would find a way,” Sherlock’s voice is grim. “The man is ruthless and very smart.”

“You think he knew?”

“I think he planned it.”

“Sherlock,” John says in disbelief, shaking his head, “I know you thought one of the Demons was responsible from the beginning…”

“Moriarty from the beginning.”

“And now it looks like you were right…”

“I am right.”

“But that doesn’t mean Moriarty is involved.”

“Oh, please,” Sherlock scoffs. “He knows every dirty move his team plays. He conceived of most of them.”

“But we have no real proof of that, Sherlock.”

“Then we’ll get some,” he draws up to his full height, his shoulders back. “I’m going to make sure Jim Moriarty rots in prison for this.”

“And I’ll do everything I can to help,” John vows. Sherlock meets John’s eyes. He knows John is not convinced Moriarty is responsible, but would still pledge to help Sherlock regardless of the culprit.

“Thank you,” Sherlock says and means it. He cannot explain why, but he would trust John with his life and that sentiment prompts him to confess more of his suspicions, in spite of what he knows John will say. “I believe he may also be responsible for Billy’s poisoning and the attacks on you.”

“Sherlock, no. No,” he shakes his head. “He can’t be connected to all of them. And if he had been the man after me, I’d have recognized his voice. It’s too distinctive not to. Even whispering the way he was, I would be able to tell.”

“He wouldn’t do the dirty work himself,” Sherlock scoffs again. “He likely out-sourced it.”

“A contracted killer? Sherlock,” John says it in the same tone of voice Mrs. Hudson uses when lightly scolding him. ‘Oh, Sherlock.’ He is about to begin a diatribe on the evil deeds of Jim Moriarty, but John derails his thoughts. 

“I don’t know him well, but I would think he’d not want to let in any more people than he has to, especially in a murder scheme. He’s very visible in this city and around the country, if you’re in the right circles. A random hitman or idiot with a gun may decide to spill the beans or extort him later, yeah?”

Sherlock holds the doctor in his gaze, a corner of his mouth turning up. John Watson is a goddamn genius. None of what he said is something Sherlock had not already considered, but for John to reason through it all right before his eyes - to see his brilliant mind work - to Sherlock, it is absolutely breathtaking. God, how he loves him.

Shit.

“Sherlock?” John asks, sounding a little concerned. 

Sherlock realizes it has been much too long since he had last spoken. Not only has he been staring blankly, lost in thought, but John asked him a question.

“I lov…” he stops himself abruptly, mind catching up with his mouth, and his stomach roils. 

Fuck! 

What the fuck is he thinking? Sherlock had been a breath away from saying it out loud, for fuck’s sake! How is that an appropriate answer to any question John could have asked him? Have all of his mental faculties so abandoned him that he would say the absolute stupidest thing he could in this moment? Because that wouldn’t end their association immediately. And all due to goddamn sentiment.

Feelings.

Feelings he cannot push away, dismiss or bury no matter how hard he tries. No room or door in his mind palace will hold them. John Watson is extraordinary and his mind will not let him forget it, even for a moment. Christ, it’s like a bad romance novel. Right down to Sherlock’s complete uncertainty about John. He could be straight or bi or asexual for all he knows - Sherlock really has no idea and, as the clueless heroine, why would he?

He has not seen John flirt with anyone or heard any rumors. Sometimes he thinks John is flirting with him, but the doctor becomes so confusing in those moments and is nearly impossible to deduce. Sherlock hates it. Technically, he should not be deducing John anyway, honoring his pledge to everyone on staff. But John is so intriguing and the fact that he cannot deduce him is actually captivating, even if it is infuriating.

“Sherlock?” John asks again. Sherlock’s eyes come back into focus to see him wearing a grin and chuckling. “By god, I think I’ve broken you.”

“Funny,” he smirks, hoping to hide his mistake. “I was merely considering your words.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t pretend you hadn’t already thought of that. I know you better than that,” he shoves Sherlock’s shoulder. Sherlock knows he should joke back, but he doesn’t. Instead, he looks back thoughtfully and whispers softly.

“You do. You know me better than anyone has.”

John’s smile fades and his eyes soften, but he says not a word. The air around them becomes heavy and yet, also crackles with emotion, attraction, expectation. John shuffles forward, putting them closer than colleagues should be once again. His hand brushes Sherlock’s and he just controls the shiver it spurs. Sherlock shifts his gaze down to John’s chest and tries not to think about how much he wants to pull him to his own body and crash their lips together. God, it would be bliss. Sherlock feels intoxicated and unsteady, lost in all he wants and cannot have. 

He shifts his hand away from John’s and raises his eyes to a deep blue gaze that is focused solely on him. 

“Good night, John.”

Disappointment flashes in John’s eyes, but is quickly replaced with disingenuous mirth. A small smile he clearly does not feel follows.

“Good night, Sherlock.”

----

Now you see! You see why I was so befuddled in my opening words! I had just finished editing this chapter and I just said “Uhh” in an exhale, deflated. As my good friend, Superwholocklmt would say, Jesus, Jane, you are so rude!! There should be tags on this and they should be ‘slow burn’ ‘rude’ ‘torture’. Sorry, not sorry. Please don’t hate me, my friends. I love you and can’t wait to see you next weekend. Love, Jane

@zentris @221b-carefulwhatyouwishfor @toooldforthissh-stuff @shana-movershaker @melmey-fanfics @louise175dk @technicallywiseoncns @underestimatemethatwillbefun @jhamishw @weirdlittlegoofball @superwholockpotterincamelot @superwholocklmt @ladidragonuniverse @kittenmadnessandtea @srebrnafh @welcometomyharddrive @annecumberbatch @kingdomofbrokenhearts @philliphooper @whodwantmeasaflatmate @gloriascott93 @vvaticancameoss @cow-mow @echosilverwolf @spazzz32 @absentmindedstuff @swissmissing @shuukichan @maeliandmyself @wtgilsa @thetranslucentwallaby @red-pen-revolution @britishaccentfan @dischorde @plasticstrawsmuggler @youknowyougrow

[tails89]

Couldn’t find the words

“Ah shit!”

Derek pulls up, feet almost skidding on the icy ground, to avoid running into the woman who had just slipped in front of him. He offers his hand to help pull her to her feet and then crouches to gather up the items that had spilled from her bag.

“Thanks.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, cheeks pink in the cold.

Derek can only just hear her over the music blaring from his headphones. “It’s not a problem,” he mumbles, handing over the bag.

She opens her mouth as if to say something more, but Derek is already beginning to move away. It’s a half hour run back to his place and he still needs to shower and eat before work. He knew he’d be cutting it close when he decided to detour through the main street to check on Erica and Boyd.

He gets home with time to spare and takes a long shower. Werewolves may run warmer than most humans, but even Derek couldn’t deny that the winter chill had finally set in across Beacon Hills.

He’s just sitting down to breakfast when his computer begins to beep the incoming chirp of a Skype call. Derek stabs at his keyboard to accept the call.

“I don’t have time for this Stiles,” he greets the rumpled figure on the screen.

“You could have ignored me,” Stiles counters, grinning down at the screen. His hair is sticking up at all angles, suggesting he only just got out of bed. The dark circles surrounding his eyes suggesting he could probably do with more sleep.

“And you would have kept calling and texting until I answered. It’s usually just quicker to answer the first time.”

“You’re learning!”

“I’m leaving.” Derek shoves the last piece of toast in his mouth and goes to shut the laptop.

“Hey, wait.” Stiles waves his hands in front of the camera. “Finals are over. I’m heading home on Friday, you’re still cool with me crashing at your place Friday night yeah?”

“Why aren’t you staying with your Dad again?” Derek asks.

“Between Dad and Melissa, Scott and Kira I’m going to be the double third wheel?” Stiles does the maths on his fingers. “The fifth wheel? It’s awkward man, and its either share my room with Scott who will not shut up about Kira this and Kira that or sleep on the couch. The couch Derek! In my own house! I’d much rather crash in your spare room.”

Derek glances at the time. “Yeah, sure, you can stay here,” he says. “Look, I’ve got to go. I’m going to be late.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you Frida-.”

Derek shuts his laptop, ending the call. He rushes out the door, grabbing his jacket on the way out. His phone chirps Stiles’ indignance at being hung up on. Fortunately, he can cut across the park quickly to get into town and get to his job at the library with time to spare to set up for the day.

***

It’s late when Derek finally makes it home.

The lights are on inside the house, illuminating small patches of the porch through drawn curtains.

“I don’t remember giving you a key,” Derek drawls as he pushes the door open, “but I’m not surprised you managed to find a way in… and make yourself at home.”

“Hey Derek,” Stiles pauses the movie he’s been watching. “Nice place. Way less creepy than the old one. And look, it has walls!”

Derek drops his keys on the table by the front door and makes his way over to the couch, stopping to drop his bag on the kitchen counter.

“Yeah, that was one of the reasons I chose it actually,” he says, knocking Stile’s feet off the seat so he can sit.

“Huh, werewolf’s got jokes,” Stiles teases. He offers Derek the bowl of popcorn he’d been munching on. Popcorn he must have purchased, because Derek knows there had been none in the house that morning. “Seriously though,” Stile continues, “it’s nice.”

Derek takes the offered snacks. “You should have seen it when I bought it.” He looks around at the fresh painted walls and plush carpet.

“Yeah, dad was telling me. He said you’d bought a dump. This is so not what I was expecting.”

The sheriff had advised Derek against purchasing the worn-down house, but Derek had needed something to do with his spare time once the pack had all gone off to university. At first, he’d considered fixing up the old Hale house, but the damage to it had been too significant and it had needed to be pulled down completely. Derek didn’t have the heart to try and re-build it from scratch. It wouldn’t be the same.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Derek says. “It just needed new paint and carpet, and some electrical work and the bathrooms needed resealing and tiling.”

Stiles stares at him. “Sure.” He lets the word drag out.

“Anyway,” Derek says, trying to turn the attention away from himself. “What are you doing here? You told me you wouldn’t be here until Friday?”

“Oh, you got that did you?” Stiles retorts, “when you so rudely hung up on me.” He shoves a handful of popcorn into his mouth, chattering as he chews. “I managed to get an extra day off work so I could come home early.”

“Your dad will be happy,” Derek says. “He’s missed you.”

Stiles nods. “I haven’t told him yet. I’m going to surprise him at work tomorrow.” He hits play to resume the movie.

Derek narrows his eyes at him. “Is that your way of asking if you can crash here?”

“That’s cool right?” Stiles asks.

Derek doesn’t have a problem with it, but he draws out his answer as if he’s mulling it over. Finally he says, “Fine. You can stay.” He gestures back towards the hall. “The spare room is down the hall on the left.

Grinning, Stiles resumes the movie.

***

When Derek gets up the next morning, he can already hear Stiles rustling around in the bathroom across the hall. He ducks into his ensuite for a quick shower and is heading out into the kitchen just as Stiles is opening the fridge to peer inside.

“There’s eggs in there if you want.” Derek moves over to the coffee maker. “Or muesli in the cupboard.” There’s already a fresh pot brewing. Stiles must have worked the machine out while Derek was in the shower.

“Muesli,” Stiles scoffs. He has the eggs and a carton of milk in one hand, the other is reaching for the pantry door. “Who in their right mind eats muesli?” He finds the flour and dumps his armload on the bench. “But you knew that already,” he says going back for the sugar and maple syrup. “Because by some magical chance you have all the ingredients – unopened – for pancakes. Crazy, huh?”

“Yeah, that’s weird,” Derek agrees, pouring himself a coffee and sitting on one of the bar stools to watch Stiles mix up the batter. “No idea how that happened.”

“It’s almost like you knew I was coming.” Stiles sets the frypan on the stove to heat and fills his mug with coffee. “Ahh, the sweet elixir of life!” He takes a moment to savour the taste before turning back to the task at hand. The pan sizzles when he drops the butter onto the hotplate. “So, what are your plans for the day?” He asks Derek.

“I’m working this morning,” Derek tells him. “But I finish around lunch if you want to do something?”

Stiles flips the first pancake.

“Sounds good,” he says. “I’m going to surprise Dad at work. I haven’t told him I’m back yet.”

Derek raises an eyebrow. “So you said.”

“I’m surprising him so I can catch him out eating junk food,” Stiles says defensively. “Don’t look at me like that.” He drops the finished pancake onto a plate. “I’m young and healthy. I can eat what I want.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Derek snags the plate and drizzles a generous serving of maple syrup over the top.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Stiles lunges for the plate. “You don’t even like pancakes. Go eat your muesli.”

Derek holds him back with one hand. “This is rent,” he claims. “You owe me two more. Get cooking.”

Stiles grumbles and returns to the stove to finish breakfast.

“Will you be staying here again tonight?” Derek asks.

“If that’s okay.”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Derek holds out his plate to accept another pancake. “Cora’s not coming down for Christmas this year. She’s meeting Jason’s parents.”

“Oh yeah, she was telling me about that.” Stiles sits to eat his breakfast. “That’s cool. And it means no couch for Stiles.” He devours his meal while Derek packs the dishwasher and cleans his teeth.

Derek grabs up his jacket and shrugs it on. “I’m off. I’ll catch you later.”

Stiles nods and finishes his breakfast.

***

“Hey Daddio!”

“Hey kid, what are you doing here?” Sherriff John Stilinski stands from his desk and gathers his son up in a hug. “We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

“I was able to get a couple of extra days off work,” Stiles explains. He lets go of his Dad and takes a seat on the desk, one foot bracing and the other swinging in the air. “So, surprise!” He breaks out the jazz hands.

“This is fantastic.” John sits at his desk. “Scott gets back tomorrow, and I know Mel is dying to see her boys. I’ll let her know to get your room set up.”

“It’s all good.” Stiles says, waving his dad off. “I’m crashing at Derek’s place. Figured Scott and Kira would want to room together and I’m not about to get between those two lovesick puppy dogs.”

John frowns. “Are you sure?” He asks. “It’s your room. I don’t want you to feel like you haven’t got a place to go.”

“It’s fine Dad, really.” Stiles reassures him. “It’s easier this way. No fighting over who gets to use the shower first, and most importantly, no sleeping on the couch.”

His dad gives him a thoughtful look. “If you’re sure,” he says. “And you need to come over for dinner tonight.”

“Of course.”

“And bring Derek. He hasn’t been over in a while.”

“Don’t you two watch hockey or something every weekend?” Stiles stands. His hands have somehow found a pen to fidget with.

“Yes,” John says seriously. “Because somehow in a whole household of sporty werewolf and werewolf adjacent kids, not a single one of you appreciates sport.”

“I can see now I’ve done you wrong as a son,” Stiles says solemnly. “The least I can do is drag Derek along.”

“The very least,” his dad agrees.

Stiles moves around to give his dad a hug. “We’ll see you tonight then.”

***

Christmas morning dawns cold and foggy. It’s too early for the sun to rise and burn through the morning mist and the dim grey light that filters through the curtains does little to brighten the room.

Derek’s not sure what woke him but as he lies in bed, staring at the ceiling he realises he can hear Stiles moving around in his room next door. It’s earlier than Derek would normally get up and he’s cosy and warm, so he rolls back over intending to get at least another hour of sleep in before rising for the day.

The light tread of footsteps patters down the hall, pausing outside Derek’s bedroom. The door is thrown open and Stiles is there, hair sticking up all over the place and shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

 “It’s Christmas Derek!” His phone is in his hand and he taps it. The warbling tone of Mariah Carey drifts up from the loungeroom.

“Oooooh I- do-hn’t want a-lot for Christmas-“

“No.” Derek rolls over and stuffs his pillow on top of his head.

“And guess what?”

“No.”

“It’s a certain grumpy werewolf’s birthday!”

“ -The-re’s just one thing I need-“

“It’s too early Stiles,” Derek grumbles. His pillow does nothing to muffle the music which is getting louder. He raises his head to glare at Stiles. “I will end you,” he warns.

Stiles laughs and holds his phone up to his mouth like a microphone.

“All I want for Christmas is you.”

Derek throws his pillow at the door. Stiles ducks out of the way and dashes down the hall. Derek can hear his fluffy socks slide against the hardwood. With a groan he throws off his covers and stands.

“It’s 6am on Christmas,” Derek complains, stomping out of his room.

“Exactly!” Stiles is hovering at the end of the corridor. “It’s Christmas! Oh my god, hurry up!”

“For what? Jesus Stiles, is this what you were like as a kid because-“ the words die in Derek’s throat as he reaches the end of the hallway. “How- how did you…?” His living room has been transformed with twinkling coloured lights running along the windows and a tinsel wrapped tree in the corner. “This is…”

“Surprise! Happy Birthmas!” Stiles falls into one of the lounge chairs, arms spread wide.

“How on earth did you manage this without waking me?” Derek asks.

“With great difficulty and my super ninja skills.” Stiles shifts over so that Derek can sit too. “Actually,” he adds, “I didn’t think I’d be able to do it. I was one hundred percent sure you’d wander out and catch me dragging the tree in or something. You’re getting soft buddy.”

“No, I’m not,” Derek grumbles. “Is this it then? Can I go back to bed now?”

“What?” Stiles looks scandalised. “No, it’s Christmas Derek!”

“Yeah, I think you’ve said that three times now.” Derek tells him. “Doesn’t change the fact you woke me at the ass crack of dawn on a holiday-”

“The best holiday!”

“- and my birthday.” Derek talks over him, ignoring the interruption. “You know I can and will kick you out of my house.”

“Noo, Dad said I’m not allowed to go over until after 10am.”

“I wonder why that could be?”

“Rude.” Stiles hops up from the couch. “And to think I got you a present.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, of course I did, man. Here.” Stiles walks over to the tree. There is a single wrapped present sitting underneath half decorated in Christmas paper and half in birthday paper. Stiles sits on the floor to reach for the present.

“Wait.”

Stiles turns back to Derek. “What?”

“Just… one moment.”

Derek rushes back to his bedroom to grab the present he’d wrapped for Stiles. It’s been sitting up in his wardrobe for weeks. When he returns he goes to hand it to Stiles.

“Nope,” Stiles says, pulling his hands behind his back. “You have to put it under the tree.”

“Really?” Derek asks, standing there.

Stiles says nothing.

“Fine,” he sits on the carpet and puts the present under the tree.

“Now we can open them together.” Stiles says.

“No,” Derek. “Coffee first.” He gets up and moves towards the kitchen. Stiles is practically vibrating in place as he watches Derek fill and start the coffee maker. He potters around the kitchen waiting for the coffee to brew, making a show of unpacking the dishwasher and putting things away.

When he finally returns with to mugs of coffee, Stiles glares at him.

“You took your time on purpose.”

Derek shrugs. “You made me get up before the sun was up. I’m going to make you wait for presents.”

“This is an outrage.” Stiles makes grabby hands at the second mug of coffee Derek is holding.

“You’ll get over it.”

“You’re worse than my Dad.”

“Do you want the present or not?”

“Yes! I can’t believe you got me a present.”

***

They head over to the Stilinski house at around 11am. Stiles is chomping at the bit to go and unwrap more presents with family and Derek is looking forward to foisting him off on someone else. It’s loud and boisterous as the Stilinski men try and work out who got the gag gift.

Stiles tears the wrapping paper off a dilapidated old cardboard box, crowing in delight. “It’s mine again!” He opens the flap, face falling as he pulls out a rock. “What is this?” He demands, shooting his Dad a dirty look. “This is your doing.”

The Sheriff bites back a laugh. “Don’t look at me,” he says. “It wasn’t my turn.”

Stiles digs through the box pulling out more rocks. At the bottom of the box there is an Xbox gift card. “Don’t think I’ll forgive you that easily.” He turns to Scott who had gifted him the card. “Thanks man.”

“You should have seen your face,” Scott laughs. “Worth it.”

Stiles scowls, “Who’d you give it to?”

“Oh, Derek,” Kira hands over another present. “This one’s for you.”

Derek looks up in genuine delight. “You really didn’t have to.” He starts unwrapping the large present, his lips twitch infinitesimally. “Uh, thanks?” The struggle to remain genuine is clear on his face.

“You gave it to Derek?!” Stiles screeches, mock outraged.

“I don’t understand.” Derek pulls the last of the paper off the large jar of bar soap.

“It’s decorative,” the Sheriff says defensively. It sounds like an old argument.

“In what universe?” Stiles argues. “It’s cheap hand soap you bought at the supermarket.” Stiles turns on Scott, “I can’t believe you gave it to Derek. He’ll probably actually use it.”

“Yeah, because I have hygiene standards, unlike you.” Derek teases.

“You’re part of the family now,” Melissa tells Derek solemnly. “That soap’s been doing the rounds for what, five years?”

“It was a heartfelt gift,” John defends. “And you all treat it like a joke.”

“It was a panic purchase on Christmas Eve,” Stiles laughs. “He hadn’t had time to get me anything for Christmas, so he bought a dollar store jar and a bunch of those multipacks of soap.”

“And my son had the absolute audacity to regift it back to me the next year.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it,” Stiles teases. “It’s supposed to come in the box,” he points out the one his gift card had been in, “but Scott is a duplicitous fiend. What can you expect from the one engaged to a trickster?”

Kira bumps shoulders with Derek. “I got it last year.”

“Ah, so it was your idea then!” Stiles nudges Derek with his foot. “We’ll just have to think of a way to get them back next year.”

“Maybe I want to keep it,” Derek grins. “It’s a nice jar. I could put it on the hall table.”

“Don’t even think about it!” Stiles warns. “I will never come to your place ever again.”

“Oh, then I’m definitely putting it on display.”

“That’s it, we’re not friends anymore.” Stiles stands to collect wrapping paper, shoving Derek over on his way past to the recycling bin.

The house is beginning to smell of baked goods and once they’ve finished unwrapping presents Stiles and Scott go to help Melissa in the kitchen.

Not long after Erica and Boyd turn up for lunch after spending the morning with their own families.

It’s cramped around the table with eight people, but they make it work, passing around food and drink until everyone has a plate. The wolves might not be able to get drunk, but they give it their best shot with beer and wine and other alcoholic beverages.

As the humans of the group, John, Stiles and Melissa are very capable of drinking too much but know better than to try and keep up with the rest of the pack.

Stiles is feeling pleasantly buzzed when he drops down onto the sofa with Scott.

“I’m so full,” he groans, using one hand to rub his overstuffed belly. “I’m never eating ever again.”

“You say that now,” Scott tells him, “but I know from experience that you’ll stuff yourself again at dinner and complain all night.”

“Not all night,” Stiles says. “I refuse to sleep on this couch, I’ll just get Derek to roll me home at some point.”

“Just because I don’t have to put up with it doesn’t mean it won’t be happening.” Scott points out.

“Fair point.” Stiles slouches down in his seat.

“Thanks for letting us stay in your room by the way.”

Stiles waves Scott off.

“Yeah, it’s a good thing you’ve got Derek.” Kira wanders over from the kitchen in time to chime in on their conversation. “Things would have been a bit cramped otherwise.”

“Tell me about it.” Stiles takes another sip from the beer he’s been nursing. He knows he should slow down if he wants to make it to dinner. “I still can’t believe Mel sold the house. We had so many memories in that place.”

“Well it’s not like she was living in it anymore.” Kira drops onto her fiancés’ lap, careful not to spill her wine. “It’s kinda sweet that your parents got together.”

“Took them long enough,” Stiles grumbles. “Do you know how long Scotty and I have been trying to set them up? We had it all planned out. Our room was going to have bunkbeds.”

“We could still do bunkbeds.” Scott points out. “They’d be a bit cramped now days,” he grins at Kira.

“Gross.” Stiles sits up. “I don’t want to hear about how you two are defiling my childhood bed. I’m going to go find Derek.”

He finds Derek in the kitchen with his Dad and Boyd. John’s unloading the dishwasher for Food Coma round two and Derek is helping him put things away.

“Why are you all wearing your serious discussion faces?” Stiles asks as he hops up onto the bench.

“Boyd caught the scent of another werewolf this morning.” Derek puts away the last plate and leans back against the bench next to Stiles’ hanging legs.

“You think it could be a threat?” John asks.

Boyd shrugs. “It’s the holidays, people are moving around more. They’re probably just passing through.”

Derek nods his agreement. “Still we’ll keep an eye out. Just to be sure.”

“Mr Alpha over here,” Stiles teases, knocking his foot against Derek. “Who’d have thought you’d be good at this one day?”

“I was always good at this.” Derek frowns, and knocks Stiles’ leg away.

Boyd deadpans. “You were a terrible Alpha.”

“Is someone talking about Derek?” Erica and Melissa enter the kitchen. She and Stiles high-five while Derek does his best Oscar the Grouch impression.

“You guys don’t understand what it was like putting up with all of you,” Derek grumbles.

“Oh, I think we have some idea.” Melissa shares a look with John. “Now, all of you, out of my kitchen unless you’re helping me with dessert.”

***

“I can’t believe you have to go back to Berkeley soon.”

It’s well after midnight. Erica and Boyd have gone home, and Scott and Kira have disappeared upstairs. Stiles is just about ready to head off himself. After a long day of eating and drinking he’s ready to fall into bed and sleep forever.

“I’m only three hours away,” he reminds his Dad, “and I come and visit all the time. Besides, I’ve only got a couple more months and I’m done.

“You know what you’re going to do when you finish?”

“Not a clue.” Stiles catches sight of Derek wandering into the lounge room. “Derek! Take me home.” He makes an aborted attempt to get off the couch. “You might have to roll me out to the car though. Mama McCall your food was too good.”

Melissa chuckles, tiredly from where she sits, head resting on one hand, legs curled up underneath herself. “Glad to hear it,” she says. “Now get out of my house so I can go to bed.”

Stiles pouts, climbs slowly to his feet.

“I’ll see you guys for dinner tomorrow,” he promises and follows Derek out to the car.

As the car starts up outside, John stands, holding out his hand for Melissa. “I never thought I’d be happy to see my son dating Derek Hale.”

“They’re good for each other.” Melissa lets John pull her up onto her feet. “I’m happy for them.”

“Yeah.” The flash of headlights illuminates the living room as the car pulls out of the driveway. “Me too.”

________________________________________________________________

Five times someone thought Stiles and Derek were dating (and they one time they finally used their words and were)

This’ll have underlying plot. I just love humourous miscommunication :)

Also posted on AO3

[chouetteffraie]

All Mine [Dazatsu Halloween Week, Day 6]

SO I had to post thsi one on mobile which means no read more until I can get on a laptop!! I also had to edit on mobile so I'll go through on desktop and edit again later :))))))

EDIT: got a read more!

WARNING: minor stalking, kidnapping, and abusive relationship dynamics. VERY mild but please be careful! This is reminiscent of...a murder-free yandere relationship? Just be warned and proceed with caution!

Also: demon!dazai

Day 6 - Demon // Ritual // "Everything you see in here is either haunted, cursed, or has been used in some kind of ritualistic practice." -The Conjuring, by James Wan

The city streets around him lay desolate and silent as clouds lazily drifted over the moon and shrouded Atsushi's path. He barely paid any mind to the darkness; this, he was accustomed to with his work in the detective agency. Instead Atsushi focused on the prickling at the back of his neck and the eerie sensation of eyes following him-

That, and the person-shaped shadow that lurked in the corner of his vision, only to flee when he turned his head.

Grimacing, Atsushi tucked his hands deeper into his pockets and continued his brisk walk, hoping to get home before the shadow had a chance to reveal itself. Briefly he wondered if he should try tricking it into thinking he lived somewhere else, but then he remembered seeing it rummaging through his things one night and decided that his efforts would be fruitless. He had internalized this defeat, this eternal hopelessness, ever since he was kicked out of the orphanage. If something was stalking him, fine. If they planned on killing him, who would miss him? All Atsushi could think to do was keep his hands clenched in his pockets, ready to fight if he needed to.

What he didn't know was that was exactly made him so enticing to his pursuer.

Every time Dazai followed the boy, a strange rush swept through his bloodstream and made every inch of his skin tingle. He saw how the world had crafted a hell just for him, only to throw him out to endure a different suffering until hunger ate his life away. Yet the world refused to be merciful, refused to give in and ease the boy's pain. Instead it gave him a dangerous job, and an infatuated demon on his tail. How deliciously cruel.

There was a light emanating from him, one Dazai wanted to pluck from this dirty world and admire on a pedestal. The flames he was forged from burned brightly, scorching his being until there was barely anything left, yet this person before him felt like the welcoming sunshine on a spring day.

He had to take it. That kind of warmth would make his existence just a hair more bearable, and everything was his for the taking.

If he had all of his powers, that is.

For a moment he considered cursing underneath his breath, lamenting his lost near-omnipotence. While his powers could be held from him as a weak punishment, though, his brain could not. As soon as Mori had told him about his probation, Dazai retreated to the books to find out how to do rituals. Through days of endless watching, rummaging and a few close calls, he had managed to collect enough of Atsushi's personal belongings to perform a ritual. To top it all off, Atsushi was only just beginning to catch on to it all - how endearing!

Dazai couldn't wait to welcome that doe-eyed innocence into his kingdom. He made arrangements, pissed off a few coworkers, and set strict rules to ensure his love's safety, and when he fell asleep, Dazai could finally stake his claim.

---

The first thing Atsushi noticed when he woke up was that it was unbearably hot. There was a thick blanket on top of him, one much heavier than he owned, and the light filtering through his eyelids seemed red. He debated letting the heat lull him back to sleep, but it proved too stifling to do that. Besides, there was a faint rustling beside him, as if someone were sitting next to him. Lazily opening one eye like a cat, he saw that was exactly the case.

A man with dark curls sat on a chair beside the bed he was on, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and fingers pressed to his lips. He was watching Atsushi with interest, stiff as if he hadn't moved for hours. There was a childish glee dancing in his eyes, one that Atsushi could tell was uncharacteristic despite knowing nothing about the man. He opened his eyes completely, allowing their gazes to truly meet. Than man's smile widened, and it only served to make him more chilling.

"Good morning," he greeted, finally leaning back. "I hope this bed is more comfortable."

Arsushi sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. "Than?" He asked groggily, taking in the room around him.

"Than your old bed, of course. I hope to give you the best while you're by my side."

The room around Atsushi was both familiar and not, an idea he had trouble wrapping his head around. It was much bigger and more ornate than any room he had ever been in, paintings hung up on the wall depicting grotesque scenes he didn't care to analyze. The entire area was tinted red, though not enough to warrant suspicion- it was as if a red-tinted spotlight was shining on the entire room. On shelves and scattered on various surfaces were small trinkets Atsushi remembered being given. A small glass cat figurine, a stuffed animal his coworkers won for him at a festival- all things he knew were his, and all that had disappeared after the night he caught that figure pawing through his things.

Eyes blown wide in realization, Atsushi twisted to face the man again. He was still smiling. "W-what is this?" Atsushi asked.

For a moment, the man chuckled, expression softening. The laugh Atsushi heard around charming but shallow, a sound thinly veiling a darker evil. "Why, it's my room for you. I wanted to make you feel at home."

Atsushi could only respond in stutters, watching as the man stood. He would tower above Atsushi if he were standing, but Atsushi felt especially vulnerable sitting in the plush bed. The man put two hands on either side of his hips, sinking the mattress down as he leaned closer.

"Everything you see in here is either haunted, cursed, or has been used in some kind of ritualistic practice," The man offered in an explanation Atsushi never asked for, eyes darting to the paintings and items that weren't Atsushis for emphasis. "I'm sorry for breaking into your home and taking your things, but I intended to give them back. I intend to give you everything."

Atsushi shivered at the warm breath fanning over his ear and neck, though he couldn't say it was from the thrill of an attractive man whispering in his ear. "What do you want?" He asked shakily. "How long do I have to be here?"

The man ducked his head, revealing to Arsushi two long, sharp black horns. "I've already performed the ritual- and it took so long, since I don't have full access to my powers right now," he added bitterly, turning away from Atsushi when his expression soured. The shadows crossing over his face made Atsushi tremble, and he was thankful the man spared him. When he had his attention again, his face was bright. "I've bound your soul to mine! I hope you don't mind. I'll take good care of you, honest."

"You did what?" Atsushi yelped, pushing the man away. "I don't even know your name, let alone where I am or anything about you! You can't just...force me to do this without asking me!" 

Atsushi didn't have a chance to see the expression of the man when he pushed him until he straightened out. His lips were drawn in a tight line, his eyes devoid of the cheer they had before.

"There's a lot you have to learn, Atsushi," He said sternly, voice devoid of emotion. "What's done is done. You are here now and you don't get a say. It's best you learn to like it now. I promise I'll be nice if you listen."

Dazai didn't need to get in Atsushi's face for him to start trembling, wishing he could cower in a corner and disappear. When he whimpered Dazai softened slightly, reaching out to him.

"Hey, hey," he said in a hushed voice. Atsushi feared the sudden switch in his demeanor more than his previous anger. "I know. It's natural to be worried and scared in a situation like this. But I'm on your side, okay?" When Atsushi didn't answer, Dazai sighed, trying not to let his frustration show. Instead, he cupped Atsushi's face."We'll take it slow, ok? You'll only have to learn one more thing."

Atsushi sniffled, wiping his eyes to distract himself from the urge to push him away again. "Yeah? And what's that?" He asked.

The man smirked- a perfectly normal smile, save for the mischief clear on his face. "My name. I'm Dazai Osamu. I'm thrilled to finally meet you."