#warming up to write fic again

[deliciouskeys]

Somewhere Up Above [Homecest]

If only Doppelganger had been savvy enough to roleplay Mirrorlander instead adoring!worshipful!fan cosplaying as Homelander, they’d still be alive. And gotten some.

“Like what you see?”

Homelander freezes on hearing his own voice behind him. When he finally turns, he blinks in disbelief at the sight of himself squeezed into the cheap black lingerie the real Madelyn would probably never have deigned to wear.

“Oh don’t tell me you don’t find me attractive. There’s nothing as pathetic as self-loathing.”

Homelander’s mouth is so dry he can barely get the words out. He gulps, embarrassed that his voice stutters as he says what his mirror image wants to hear. “I-I do. I like what I see.” Does he really though? He’s too afraid of what will happen if he admits that he’s somewhat repulsed by what’s probably coming next.

“Of course you do, you lonely little slut, you’ll take any love you can get, even if it’s just from another version of you.” The mirror image approaches him and Homelander strains to stay still and not step back. “Nobody else will really love you like I can, after all. Now, get down on your knees and suck me off.”

Homelander doesn’t even hesitate, drops to his knees on obedient autopilot, and pulls up the hem of the black lace teddy, hands slightly trembling. His mirror image is completely soft. He glances up and immediately regrets it, because all he sees is his own face, twisted into a cruel sneer, staring down at him.

“Do you suck at blowjobs as much as you suck at every other kind of sex?”

Homelander shakes his head vigorously, even though he’s never sucked cock before in his life, he’s bound to be bad at it, and he’s going to get an earful about how bad soon enough. It’s just his own cock at eye level, but it looks different from this perspective, unfamiliar and intimidating. Its softness is mocking him, his mirror version so skeptical of his talents that he can’t even get excited in anticipation. Homelander wishes the lingerie was long and wide enough that he could just pull it over his head. It would feel better to hide from the cold judgemental gaze above when he’s doing this.

He takes the shaft in his hand and starts stroking, craning his head down and gently sucking on the balls. At least he knows what he likes, and that’s a start. He hears his own voice moan somewhere up above but doesn’t look. When Homelander takes his mirror version’s cock in his mouth, it’s downright soothing. It’s not all that different from sucking on Madelyn’s fingers. The cock is larger, and warmer, and heavier on his tongue, of course, but it’s not bad. There’s a salty, heady flavor he’s not used to, but he closes his eyes, accepting it as his own, and just continues to suck, trying to tease the underside of the head and the slit on each pull backward.

He’s in a groove, one could even say he’s enjoying this, but he’s snapped out of his rhythm and can’t avoid glancing up when his mirror image brushes his hair back and traces a thumb along his eyebrow.

“Look at yourself. Ready to suck dick at the drop of a hat. That’s all you’re ever going to be, at this rate. Just talent. A whore. You’d probably suck Stan Edgar off if he asked you to.”

Homelander starts shaking his head before realizing he’s going to need to let the dick in his mouth drop out to protest and say “No, only you.”

His mirror image shakes his head and Homelander can’t stand the look of disappointment in his own eyes. “You’re not a good liar either. You’ve got no spine, nothing but a pretty face going in your favor. A pretty face Stan Edgar can offer every senator who wants to jizz on it or sit on it, just so Vought gets the political moves they want.”

His mirror image starts jacking off at a quick pace. Homelander doesn’t have time or presence of mind to decide to move away before jets of come get painted across his eyes, cheekbones, lips. Wiping it away gives him the brief opportunity to discreetly get rid of tears that started to form before his mirror image notices that he’s crying.

“Would you let me fuck you if I asked?” his mirror image asks.

Homelander shrugs, and moves his head in a way that’s noncommittal between a nod and a negative headshake. He doesn’t know what the right answer is anymore.

“Would you let anyone else fuck you?” This question is easier to answer and Homelander decisively shakes his head.

“Then why do you let Vought make Stormfront their new golden girl? Why aren’t you figuring out a way to get rid of her?”

“I am,” Homelander says, dismayed that it’s very obvious that he’s crying from the way his voice shakes. “I’m just thinking about how to go about it.”

“Glad to hear, sport.” His mirror image cradles his jaw, tilting his face upward from the downward angle Homelander keeps wanting to assume. “You’ve still got cum in your hair— don’t forget to wash it out before anyone else sees you.”

[musicalmoritz]

I was skimming through my old Soukoku fics and LMAO Chuuya chill out

[billdenbrough]

@naturecalls111 prompted me kevaaron + massage when i needed a warmup prompt bc she is the best. waves hands this is a vague au and heads up for some suggestive content ahead but it's just prelude vibes lmao

The thing is. The thing is that Aaron’s hands, while smaller than Kevin’s, are firm. It was a fuck of a thing, coming onto this team after two years of Volshan’s huge, bone-cracking hands, and being told this small blond with sharp eyes and a clever, pretty mouth would be the one helping Kevin with keeping his body well-tuned.

He certainly feels like an instrument right now, strung too tight. Everything is taut. He’s only halfway sure it’s his muscles. The rest of it might just be him, here, right now, in this moment. 

“God, what have you been doing to yourself?” Aaron mutters. He digs his thumb in deep, and Kevin can’t help the low, guttural groan that rings through the air. Aaron pauses. Kevin buries his face in the bed.

“Well, clearly that needed some working out,” Aaron says. He resumes his motions, pausing only to re-lotion his hands, and it’s just - Kevin is just -

Kevin is a fucking professional, okay? You don’t get onto as many teams as he has—let alone at the international level—without going through the team PT’s hands a time or twenty. But it’s just.

Aaron’s kinda funny, see. He's got this dry, quiet humour, usually pretty cutting, and these blunt remarks that make Kevin snort even when the recipient of such a remark sends him an injured look. The breakdown in relations with his teammates is worth it when Aaron sends him that little smile. And Aaron is smart. Obviously, medical professional, but he likes trivia and has opinions on the best way to hide a body (“My something-in-law,” he says once, in the world’s vaguest lore drop. “He’s got a variety of skills.” Which, like, ominous? If Jean were here, he’d be telling Kevin that the fact that Aaron clearly being related to some sort of serial killer isn’t flagging his boner at all means Kevin truly has taken too many Exy balls to the head. It might be true. Doesn’t change the fact that his boner remains undaunted and his neck prickles whenever he hears Aaron enter a room, so aware of him) and confiscates Kevin’s Exy racquet when he catches him at the court too late, but doesn’t make him go home. 

Which is how they end up here, actually.

Aaron says, you’re going to injure yourself, don’t be a fucking idiot. Kevin says, I need to get better. Aaron says, you’re already the best person on that court, you perfectionistic fuck. Kevin grins at him, quick and fierce, then remembers himself, and says, I can always get better. Aaron arches an eyebrow and says, not if you blow out your knee trying to conquer the world. Kevin wants to argue, but Aaron reaches over and tugs his Exy racquet free, placing one hand on Kevin’s bicep as he does so. Kevin is so struck by it that he lets him. 

Aaron says, you don’t have to leave if you don’t want to go back home. Kevin doesn’t ask how he guessed or what he’s implying. Kevin asks, what are you doing here? And Aaron says, checking the office. Thought I could get some paperwork done.

And Kevin asks, do you want company? And Aaron looks at him, expression a little unreadable, then says, yeah, okay. Come on, Kevin Day.

And he goes. And Kevin follows. 

And now here’s Kevin, getting an impromptu massage because Aaron narrowed his eyes at the way he was moving his left leg. And now Aaron’s fingers are moving up the back of his thigh, digging in, and all Kevin can think about is how badly he wants those fingers to be digging in because he’s holding on. Because he’s pulling Kevin down on him, clutching at him because he doesn’t want to let go. Or because he’s clinging to Kevin’s shoulders for dear life while Kevin proves to him that all his chat about the stamina of champions isn’t just chat. Kevin’s not picky. He’s just losing his mind a little, maybe, with how it all feels right now.

“Did you want me to do the front?” Aaron asks. “I can check your knee.”

Kevin shakes his head quickly. “It’s fine,” he says, but Aaron is frowning at him. He moves around the bed to face Kevin, and Kevin can’t escape his gaze, lying down as he is.

“Are you sure?” he asks. He presses the back of his hand against Kevin’s forehead—if he thinks Kevin has a fever and benches him, Kevin is going to be absolutely insufferable, especially because he’s fine, he’s just horny. Then he does something so completely unforgivable, and flips his hand absentmindedly, cupping Kevin's jaw. 

Kevin lets out a low whine.

Aaron steps back, and Kevin goes, “Shit, sorry, it’s—Keegan bruised me there earlier.”

The look Aaron gives him is unconvinced, but he nods. “Okay,” he says. “I'll just do a warm down then, if you’re sure.”

Kevin swallows, nods.

But then Aaron's hands are back on him. Gentler this time, for the most part, but digging into softer flesh, more tender spaces, and then—

Kevin makes a kind of gasping noise as Aaron’s hand slips a little, a little too slick from the lotion. Aaron’s apology is swallowed up by the gasp, but then cut off completely as his hand brushes against Kevin’s hard dick.

“Oh,” Aaron says, and then, “Is this why you were being so—Kevin, it’s fine. This is really normal. I promise I've seen it before.”

Appallingly, Kevin’s first instinct is to indignantly ask “Who?!”; however, cooler heads prevail and he says, “Uh huh.”

“No, I promise,” Aaron says. His voice is a little strange, but there’s sincerity in it, Kevin can tell that much. “I know it’s just a reaction, it doesn’t mean anything, it’s natural.”

Kevin blames Jeremy, who is the least honest but most sincere person he knows, for what comes out of his mouth next. Jeremy, who never tells anyone shit but is always so encouraging for people to be open with their feelings. It’s his fault, Kevin decides, because Kevin’s stupid fucking mouth decides to say, “I wouldn’t say anything.”

Aaron goes really still for a moment. Kevin is still not looking at him, so he only knows this from the sudden lack of breathing. Then, finally, “What?”

Kevin huffs, then turns over. No point hiding it now that they both know he’s hard as a rock.

It's embarrassing, but he’s said it now. He can’t unfuck that. So he stands his ground instead. “I wouldn't say it’s entirely meaningless.”

Aaron’s looking at him. Mostly his face, but he glances down at his dick, and Kevin feels it stir with interest beneath the attention. He's about to feel embarrassed, but then Aaron tilts his head, and his eyes darken just a shade, and Kevin thinks—oh. Kevin thinks, maybe this isn’t such a lost cause after all.

[jessamine-rose]

*lovingly tackles Aine*

Read my Yandere! Pierro longfics first ♪( ´▽｀)

Last week, my beloved mutual @ainescribe surprised me with Savior! Darling fan art and AHAI9232@2-!/! CRYING SCREAMING I WANT TO LOOK AT THIS ART AND WORSHIP YOUR VERSION OF SAVIOR THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BLESSING ME WITH YOUR ART—

*clears throat* Anyway, now that I finally have the time to properly sit down and comment on the fan art, I’ll do just that. Feedback will be in the tags and it will be unhinged. Once again, thank you so much to Aine for drawing this <3

[pynkhues]

I know you said you have a lot of GG prompts already but, if you’re feeling inspired, I’m so curious what you’d come up with for brio: 28 feeling for each other in the dark

L for the minifics being: a stolen kiss.

Our Endless Numbered Days Beth x Rio. NBC Good Girls. 6k words. M. -

For a minute, it’s hard to see the source of the blood, rivulets running down the thin lines of his abs, pooling in the hollow of his belly button. It smears red across too much of him, and Beth has to lean in a little closer until the metallic scent of blood hits her nostrils and it’s all she can smell. She curls her hair behind her ears, traces her gaze until she finds the wound that’s still weeping. A round little puncture about the size of a watch face, a newborn’s yawning mouth, a golden dollar, in the normally honeyed skin at the edge of his left hip.

Beth exhales, and she’s close enough it hits his side, if the shiver that runs through him is any indication, and she shifts back onto the couch as she looks back up at him. -

A blackout rolls over the city and Rio shows up at Beth's in need of a little care. Set post-s4.

[optiwashere]

Ugh, I'm always so annoyed when I write something start-to-finish and leave it alone for a while like usual just to dislike what I wrote later. I happily go on my way to do a simple edit and surprise! What do you know... there's things that need editing.

I need to completely redo all the dialogue. I really pride myself on the flow of my dialogue, so that's a giant mess I've made for myself and I still have a Blades chapter that I'm so close to closing out. Hopefully by next week I'll have both in a place that makes me happy.

Sigh.

[4acoffee]

I know I should be working on my drafts rn but, um

sneak peak for a new baku fic?

―

"It was a fucking accident, I didn't ask the damn villain to blast me in the direction of the restaurant." He said to you. "And besides, I already apologized to the owner of the shop a million times and she told me not to worry about."

You didn't even look at him from where you were sweeping the floor, but he saw you roll your eyes. "Yea, I know, my mom never shuts up about you."

He scrunched his eyebrows at you and pushed off the counter, straightening in understanding.

"Oh, shit, your mom is —"

"Yep"

"So your, ― "

"Yep"

Katsuki scowled and gripped the broom tighter. "Stop fucking doing that." He growled in annoyance, "Your mum made you out to be a lot nicer than you really are."

You scoffed and glared at him through narrowed eyes, "I should be the one telling you that."

He glowered and looked you up and down. "Yea, I guess your only pleasant in the pictures."

Your glare deepened and you hissed at him before turning on your heel and stalking off to clean somewhere else where you didn't have to speak to him, or look at his stupid face.

[knox-knocks]

Send ficlet prompts?

I want to start writing aftg fic again but I'm rusty and really need to get back into the swing of things, so I'm taking prompts for ficlets (anywhere from 200-700 words, maybe a lil more). It can be anything, a word, a scenario, anything you can think of! I can't promise I'll get to all of them, but I'll do as many as I can :)

[pyrriax]

hai tumblr i think tomorrow i will work on. art. or web stuff..... im on a lil bit of a kick of web stuff rn so i think i might do a lil planning for the terralith (story) site !! its gonna be a . big undertaking since im gonna work on coding + art for it from scratch. but! it'll be worth it i think! it'll be fun to have something to point to and be like "yeah if you wanna see my current main project look here :3"

im still planning to work on a more personal site too for housing more of my fannish work and other non-story ocs (and maybe some more personal stuff... id love a place to collect photos of my fav things & for some other things like. maybe a little redux of the system stuff i originally had on my old site [which is still up but i might pull since most of it is broken... ive learnt my lesson about image hosting i swear] depending on what i decide is the most fun. im debating whether i go the route of having a relatively consistent appearance (like im planning to do with terralith) or if i let the pages themselves kind of dictate the appearance (more like my old site, which is a bit disjointed but its a little charming... i need to separate out a section of that site since it's actually a story / character project for wtds)

art-wise i think im probably going to see if i can hunt down a good base to actually hammer out the Designs for a lot of the characters ive been working on - they all have a general concept in my head but they dont have anything too solid. either that or i'll try and work on improving the reference for elyria.. i want to have most of the reference stuff done in time for art fight since im planning to participate for at least a week of it (although it will probably involve adjusting refs for old characters as well. some of them are super outdated and i need to add in notes for ones like tyler since ive changed how i draw him)

who knows! its like 2am im tired and hopefully the power doesnt keep going out tomorrow 🙏

[thehappiestgolucky]

Ik it’s very late (at least for me) but I’d like to request if some people could prompt me into some Vigilante Tiso thoughts that i can wake up to

I just,,, i miss the au a lot,,,love them dearly just brains so busy,,,

[pegsontheregs]

Riddler x reader - Minors DNI

uhhhhh giving oral while the blorbo's driving :)

cw: oral, while driving, orgasm delay i guess, not beta read and written in like 30 minutes dont expect quality

~600 words, its short

“Babe whoa what’re doing!” The Riddler, or as you called him, Eddie, exclaimed. And that was a good question, what were you doing? Acting on inspiration is what it was. Unbuckling your seat belt and leaning over the console to suck him off sounded fun so that's exactly what you were going to do. If he wanted you to.

“I’m driving!” He hissed at you, both hands white knuckling the wheel. Despite his objections he opened his thighs a little wider for you, letting you settle on his lap.

“Do you actually want me to stop?”

“No, this is hot as fuck, but if I cum while driving I will crash the car.”

“Then I’ll make sure you don’t.” You patted his thigh reassuringly. A whine erupted from him in response.

You got to work, unzipping his fly and fishing out his half hard dick, leaving sloppy kisses up the shaft. Kitten licking at the tip, you swallowed any precum leaking out then slid half of him down your throat.

He groaned and jerked forward. His hand grabbed the back of your head to steady himself. When you started to move, the car filled with the sound of Eddie’s heavy breathing and whining.

“Fuck, fuck.” He breathed. You felt the car slow to a stop. He pushes you head down slightly when you try to raise it to look at him.

“Stoplight. Keep going.” You try not to grin as you continue your ministrations. Reaching your hand into his pants, you massage his balls. A few more seconds and the light was green, and he reluctantly started driving again. You were sure the other people in cars at the light probably saw you. The thrill sent a shiver down your spine.

“Fuck babe, I-“ You pinch at the base of his dick, and pause. Keeping him in your mouth as you hold off his orgasm. Just sitting, waiting, listening to him whine and beg.

“Please! Come on!” He’s pushing at your head again. But you pull off, sliding your fist up his dick agonizingly slow as you talk.

“You said if you cum we crash. So no.”

“Fuck this shit. I’m pulling over.”

“If you pull over, I’m stopping. If you want to finish you better get us home safely.” He stared at you, flicking his eyes to the road occasionally. His brain debating whether it’s worth sitting through this torture or better to pull over and just jerk himself off.

“Fine.” He said decisively, gripping the wheel tightly again. He’s not one to back down from a challenge, he tells himself, only a couple blocks to go this will be easy.

His resolve though was quick to crumble when you took him in your mouth again. He tried hard not to buck into you or let his eyes wander, fearful that he might cum on the spot if he looked. You could tell he was trying his hardest to stare out the window and drive without incident. A few more minutes and another botched orgasm later, he finally pulled into the parking for his safe house.

And no sooner did he grab your hair and fuck into you, moaning all the while. You tried to relax your throat for him and it didn’t take too much of his rutting before he was cumming down your throat with a loud groan. He let you up and you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Here I thought I was going to have to hold you off at least one more time before we got here. Good job Eddie!” You grinned, kissing his cheek then turning his head to kiss warmly at his lips.

“Fuck you.” He breathed heavily, still trying to catch his breath.

“If you want. You deserve it.”

[billdenbrough]

@naturecalls111 prompted me kevaaron + procrastination and was like ‘post grad’, meaning they’re not undergrads if it’s canonverse, & something abt the phrasing latched into my brain so we ended up with this vaguely professor au w/ the flimsiest excuse for a TA-adjacent situation ever instead. idk. as ever this was just for her texts & i’m coming off a 30hr migraine so pls forgive me LMAO <3

“I can see right through you,” Kevin murmurs.

“Oh, yeah?” Aaron challenges. God, he’s close.

“Mm,” Kevin says. “You just don’t want to mark the test.”

It's an accusation, but there’s no censure in his voice. He's amused, mostly; fond too, despite himself. It’s not exactly behaviour he should be encouraging, but—

Aaron huffs. “I never want to mark a test,” he points out. “Undergrads are fucking stupid. Or these ones are, anyway.”

“You were an undergrad once,” Kevin says. He very determinedly keeps his hands steady on the bench. Maybe he’s gripping the edge so he stays in place; so what? That's between him and whatever God Renee believes in enough for the both of them.

“These ones,” Aaron repeats, scoffing. “Anyway, I'd never have taken a history paper. Get real.”

Kevin can’t help the frown there. “History is fascinating,” he argues. Aaron scoffs at him again, but the way he watches Kevin runs counter to that. Like he’s listening to whatever Kevin says, regardless. “It is,” Kevin insists again, clearing his throat.

Aaron's gaze tracks the movement, eyes following the motion of his throat, and Kevin kind of wants to clench the counter edge hard enough to crack the formica. Jesus Christ.

“You like research,” Kevin says. He keeps his eyes on Aaron, watches as he steps in closer again. “History is an endless study of every mistake we’ve ever made—”

“—So we don’t repeat our forefathers’ mistakes?” Aaron asks wryly. “Hate to break it to you, but that’s a non-starter.”

“No,” Kevin says, shaking his head. “We’re bad at learning. Mostly, we don’t even see the patterns for decades, if not centuries.”

Aaron cocks his head. “Doesn’t that frustrate you?” he asks. “I've seen you watch sports. You get mad if people make the same fuck-up within, like, three minutes.”

An image floats in Kevin’s head, unbidden: the two of them at the sports bar, late one night after they finally convinced Jeremy to go the fuck home because the college wasn’t paying him enough to sleep at his desk to reply to nineteen year olds’ panicked emails at 11:17pm before a midnight deadline. Kevin had been unbelievably put-out by the Astros’ scoreline; Aaron hadn’t cared so much, but had seemed to find great entertainment in prodding at Kevin to express his opinion to a bar full of patrons who strongly disagreed with him.

Do you even care about baseball? Kevin had asked in the end, exasperated. He’d unknotted his tie and slipped off his jacket, heated by his opinions and the game and the alcohol and the way Aaron had sat there, head tilted, that clever mouth of his quirked up to the side like a smirk, like a secret.

Not really, Aaron had said, shrugging. He swished his beer a little. I played hockey at school myself. Before Kevin could get too excited about that—a sport! An actual goddamn sport! that wasn’t only worth watching European leagues for, cough cough Jeremy and Jean and fucking football—Aaron added, I like seeing how much you care about it, though, and knocked Kevin right on his ass, metaphorically-speaking.

That night had ended in a blur: Kevin’s flushed cheeks as he lectured the bar at large about heliocentrism after finishing his grumbling about the baseball, Aaron’s quiet snort and eyes that laughed more than his mouth did, alcohol-sticky wood beneath his feet as he made his way to the bathroom, the taste of Aaron’s beer on his lips, Aaron’s cool fingers a balm against his cheek, his mouth a searing heat burning all the way through Kevin.

Then when Kevin’s TA dropped out because of ‘unmanageable stress’ (which was not Kevin’s fault, no matter what Dan says, she and Matt can fuck off) and he had to scramble to figure out what to do, Abby had offered one of her tutors—but only for marking, Kevin, he has no base in history. He’s just smart enough to use a rubric and willing to help. Between this and Jean’s long-suffering offer to lead the tutorial that didn’t clash with his meetings with his advisor, and even Neil’s unlikely assistance in the form of helping restructure the syllabus, it all seemed pretty manageable. (The history department had quietly come to the conclusion that this was not, strictly speaking, acceptable by university standards, but elected to ignore this information until the conclusion of the semester. As far as Kevin’s been able to tell in his years in academia, this is how things tend to work.)

When Abby showed up at his office with Aaron, though, Kevin's cheeks had gone hot enough that she’d asked him if he was sure he wasn’t coming down with a stress fever. Aaron's face had stayed blank, but his eyes were – amused.

It was one thing when Aaron had been the regular third person in the staff room late at night alongside Jeremy and Kevin, rubbing his eyes as he scowled at whatever it was he was looking at. (Anatomy exams, Kevin found out later.) He’d been mostly quiet, but sharply funny when he’d ended up interacting with them, mostly starting with indelicate snorts at whatever madcap thing Jeremy was saying, then incredulous stares at Kevin’s rebuttal, and finally muttered jabs as he worked the coffee machine and Jeremy laughed delightedly and Kevin stared at him with disbelief and a slow-building warmth in the base of his stomach.

It was yet another thing when Aaron had been the guy he bundled up Jeremy with, the guy he got drunk with for hours in a sports bar, the guy who laughed at him and offered him buffalo wings so spicy that they made Aaron’s cheeks red and Kevin’s lips feel like they were on fire, until Aaron kissed him, tipsy outside the bar, the warmth spreading through Kevin overtaking both the chilly night air and the spice-stained echoes on Kevin’s mouth.

But it was another thing entirely for Aaron to be Aaron, meaning Abby's favourite postgrad and the guy who diligently read Kevin’s syllabus on top of his own work just to better understand the marking rubric and hater of psych majors everywhere. Aaron, with his tired eyes and quiet laugh and complete inability to answer a phone call from his brother in a normal way. (At one point, Kevin had been half-concerned he was ordering a hit—less about the morality or legality of the situation, more in a if you get arrested, I’m screwed again type way—until Neil had shown up half an hour later with lunch for Aaron and Aaron had gone, ugh and Neil had rolled his eyes, spotted Kevin, and turned to Aaron to say, you’re one to talk. Aaron had flushed a little, then scowled and flipped Neil off, and said fuck off, to which Neil said, gladly, then see you at dinner? And Aaron had waved his hand. If you eat your fucking vegetables, to which Neil had laughed, and flipped him off, and walked out. Kevin had stared at Aaron, nonplussed, but Aaron had ignored him, focusing instead on the test he was marking while he ate the sandwich Neil had brought.) Aaron, with his unbelievably rude opinions about Kevin’s lack of video game knowledge, and the genuinely unreasonable amount of sour gummies he can put away in an hour, and the unbearably soft look he gets on his face when he’s sleepy and huffy and Kevin has gently dragged away whichever test he’s marking or article he’s reading that’s made him so grumpy late at night.

Aaron, who Kevin actually knows now. And likes even more for it, which is inconvenient and inopportune and probably inevitable.

Kevin clears his throat. “People are meant to try and win in sports,” he says. “History is about things that have already happened. It’s a different ballpark.” There’s a moment, and then, “They’ve already lost the battle. I'm not rooting for anything else there.”

Something flares up in Aaron's eyes at that, and he snakes his hand forward, tugging on Kevin's tie. Kevin, hands still holding onto the bench, allows it.

“But sports are about victory?” Aaron asks. 

He’s not even subtle about procrastinating, Kevin thinks. He wants to laugh. He swallows a sigh instead, and says, a little warningly, “Aaron…”

But he doesn’t move. Doesn’t stop Aaron, doesn’t do anything to stop him. Maybe leans in a little, even.

“Yeah,” Kevin says after a long moment. “History, you live or you die. Sports, you’re the best or you’re not.”

“That's a reductive way of looking at the world,” Aaron says, but it’s that tone he gets sometimes, the one where Kevin doesn’t know if he believes it or if he just wants to poke at Kevin a little. Kevin hates that he likes it as much as he does; that he lets it stoke him up, bites at the bit every time.

“You are not subtle,” Kevin murmurs. The tests are sitting on the table behind Aaron, staring up at the ceiling. Aaron's coffee is abandoned, probably cold.

You are not subtle, Kevin says, and means it, but Aaron’s cocked his eyebrow at him, and there’s something a little taunting in his eyes, and he’s still holding onto Kevin’s tie, and something in Kevin loosens. He sighs, and lets go of the bench, tucking his fingers into Aaron's belt loops instead and pulling him forward.

“Is this a sport?” Aaron asks, because he’s a dick and facetious and he knows just how to make Kevin want to shut him up.

“You’re not as funny as you think you are,” Kevin scolds, and then leans forward to kiss the rebuttal out of Aaron's mouth.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

hey sweetheart!

how're you? how're you doing?

just wanted to check in with you!

and also to let you know that i love your works!

your take on suguru is immaculate.

currently in love with your knight!suguru fic and your drunk!suguru fic! <3

hi anon !! wahhhhhh you’re so sweet for checking in…… T_T i’m doing just fine !!!! hoping to get some writing done this week ….. i’m gonna try my best!!

and !!!!! tysm for ur kind words :’3 it means a lot to me!! praise from sugu girlies (gn) always makes me so happy <3333 I’M OVERJOYED THAT U LIKE MY TAKE ON HIM it’s extremely self-indulgent but it is what it is yk ….

and aaaa i’m very fond of both those fics :’3 i feel so warm knowing u like them too anon !!! i’ve been writing sugu a lot lately hhh ….. but i still have lots of wips left !!! i hope they’ll live up to ur sweet praise once they’re out !!! 🌻🌻🌻

[pynkhues]

which fic are you updating lol? Also are you still working on your arranged marriage kenstew?!

I updated my Stranger Things fic, I Might Be Great Tomorrow (but hopeless yesterday), anon! It's been a minute to say the least since I updated it, and it's been a really nice one to come back to.

The arranged marriage kenstew fic is one I want to finish though, so it's in my active WIPs folder. I don't really have a timeline for it, but it's one I do think I'll likely finish sooner rather than later as I've been thinking about it a lot :-)

[noramoons]

i live

[adwox]

the prophecy...