#will always be distracted by sticky rice

[violetren]

Ok live action atla reaction for episode 2.

It was better than episode one. Where episode one was a dumpster fire actively trying to hurt me both as an avatar fan and as someone with a basic understanding of how multimodal media is used to craft stories, episode two is fine.

I hesitate to call it great or even good when my only other point of reference so far is one of the worst episodes of TV I have seen in the past decade. Or possibly just ever. But I can comfortably say it was fine.

Perhaps my biggest on going issue is still the dialogue. When they don't sound like they just walked out of a LA therapists office, they instead sound like they are either in a circa 2010 disney original tv show, or just straight up like the writer explaining directly to camera how they are justifying skipping events from the animation because they have made the characters so much more mature and self aware of what they need to do/become for the sake of saving the world.

In short, Sokka remains unfunny.

I can't believe the "I bet you taste like chicken" comment wasn't even in response to Momo doing anything in particular. Momo is just there chilling on Aang's shoulder and Sokka is glaring at him like Momo is his arch rival, talking about a singular non mishmash animal that he has probably never even seen before because where the fuck where the chicken coops in the south fucking pole!?

Katara's strives in bending probably look impressive to anyone who hasn't seen the first episode of the animation where she already outclassed her current progress. Girl was out there (accidentally) splitting icebergs out of anger, but I'm meant to be impressed she can make a water ball in 3 seconds? I hate how badly she has been nerfed.

I also hate how they made it that Gram Gram actively helped nerf her by denying Katara her inheritance until it was clear she was gonna hop on a flying bison and go on adventures with the Avatar. She didn't even give her the scroll directly and apologise to her face. Just shoved it in her bags with a sorry note and now we're deprived of Katara stealing from pirates! Which means Katara is gonna be carrying that "goody toe shoes always morally correct with no room for nuance mom friend" burden for who knows how much longer now.

We did FINALLY get some Iroh adjacent behaviour from Uncle Iroh. Him trying to cajole Zuko into eating some street food and getting distracted mid sentence because he noticed some sticky rice wasn't perfectly executed but it was better executed than any other Iroh moments we have seen so far. Mostly he still hits as gaslighty and condescending. And don't get me wrong. OG Iroh COULD be gaslighty but never so fucking blatantly. There's no finesse, no gentle distractions layered with concern. Where is the charisma? Instead we effectively get him going "you're wrong. you should consider giving up." at every other time he talks to Zuko (less so this episode than last but only because he "tries" to teach Zuko diplomacy. Yes there are quotes around tries for a reason. He basically says Do This, gives no real guidance on how and then steps in to do the thing the second Zuko is sucking because he's never had to do this shit before and doesn't want to do it now especially since he has no idea wtf Iroh means).

Anyways, didn't they say they were overhauling the Ba Sing Se arc to make it less gaslighty? Yet they let this vibe fly with Iroh of all people?

We did at least get Suki though. And she's mostly pretty recognisably Suki. Save for the instant and hardcore pining for Sokka because he immediately became a surrogate for her yearning for the outside world. I can appreciate that they wanted to nix Sokka's sexism and instead just made him insecure about his status as a warrior, and they almost made it work but they cut themselves off from such an interesting interplay of tension by having Suki just as, if not more, eager to show off her skills to Sokka as he was to act like he was a big tough southern water tribe warrior. They were on to something when they had her question how he could be the guardian of his village if he was here with the Avatar instead. They could of had her be dismissive of his claims at being a warrior when he was clearly acting like an undisciplined blow hard and the fanthrowing/chokehold scene could have been a "stop acting tough, I am the warrior you're claiming to be" moment which wouldn't have involved any sexism on either side and have made a basis for mutual respect when Sokka comes along to the training hall. They could have had him humbly ASK instead of awkwardly miming until Suki noticed. We could have still had Sokka in Kyoshi Warrior garb. It would have stuck closer to the original, it wouldn't have taken up more time, and it would have created a much more satisfying interplay of tension between the two characters which also would help ground their future relationship in mutual respect.

I will say though, although the writing fucking choked the cinematography, the lighting team, the actors and the editors all came through with creating a sense of attraction between the two characters. So that wasn't nothing.

Kyoshi was a high point. Still fell victim to the dialogue writing, but a very strong perfomance by Yvonne Chapman accented excellently by the sound design team during some of the more intense parts when they layered in all the other Avatar voices. She was a good choice for giving Aang a bunch of hard truths and I liked how she both told him he had to find his own path but when he kept pushing for a more concrete answer just started telling him to deal with shit her way, because that felt very Kyoshi.

Also the entire sequence of her manifesting through Aang to show him a bit of what he could do as the avatar and lowkey to protect HER island was fucking badass. Not a single fire nation soldier left that island with clean underwear after facing Avatar mother fucking Kyoshi.

Unfortunately I was very quickly brought down from this high by Aang closing out his part of the episode by saying that Kyoshi told him something terrible was going to happen to the Northern Water Tribe if he didn't get up there and do his duty as the avatar to stop it. A conversation beat that happened off screen btw.

This annoys me for several reasons, starting with since when can the Avatar's collective past lives tell the future? The big threat to the Northern Water Tribe was originally Zhao coming to kill the moon spirit, which is a culmination of his lust for dominance and power and his plans to capture the avatar for himself. So either that isn't happening (and they are unnecessarily trying to revamp a perfectly good finale to stroke their own egos) OR they have made the nonsensical decision to foretell this tragedy in the show instead of just letting the tension mount naturally because 80+% of their audience already know shit goes down in at the Northern Water Tribe. Which annoys the fuck out of me. Aang was always going to go North for water bending training anyways, and especially this borderline hyper responsible version of Aang who knows even if it will hurt emotionally he will need to learn the other elements. There was no good god damn reason to add a second layer of urgency by saying if he doesn't get there bad shit will happen!

My closing rant is really more of a question, but why the fuck is it every time we see a firelord, (Sozin and now Ozai) that they are just hanging out in the middle of the fucking chamber chatting with some fucking guys until a prisoner/messenger arrives while the fire throne looms menacingly in the background upstairs and 50 feet back. Where is the menace and pizazz of them sitting looking down on literally everyone and everything from up on high flanked by flames, committing atrocities with a wave of their hand and a few low spoken words that everyone grovels to hear? I believe in Daniel Dae Kim's ability to look scary and lordly on a fancy chair, especially if the fancy chair has FIRE, why doesn't the director?

[digital-style666]

My the amazing Digital Circus Oc

Names : Figaro

Age: 17 years old

Height: 5'4 inches tall

Voice claim: Shaggy from the 2002 movie

Voice details: a very raspy Shaggy like voice but with a lisp

Mental Disorders:

auDHD and BPD

Pronouns:

He/Him /xem /xyrt/heirs

Gender/s:

Male (closeted Transmasc boy )

Sexuality/ies:

Bisexual

Body:

Lego man

Coping mechanism:

Partying and self harm (self destructive behavior & drug and alcohol abuse)

Appearance/s :

Dark yellow skin, two bandaids together in a × over his nose, Dark orange hair with a white light green (backwards) and dark green hat with hot pink words in the front that says "Parties 4 life" , scrawny, he wears a dark green and neon green varsity jack with a black and dark green #11 Tshirt underneath, baige khakis , and white shoes

What their appearance symbolizes:

Him being a Lego could be implied they always end up with the wrong people as friends in their past life and because of it they were always peer pressured into doing things and was always used in the form of entertainment

Personality/ies :

Figaro is a walking breathing and speaking 17 year old Lego that's basically a ex college frat boy and something of a hippy due to his generally laid back persona, his hair, clothes, and his inappropriate use of slipping in the word "Like" in his speech. Even though throughout the years, he's tried to be the average teen, he's still stuck being labelled as a hippy.

Figaro is a care free, easily distracted, dimwitted , gullible, friendly boisterous, and foolish attitude

and has a variety of interests and hobbies, with his most well-known being food , partying , music but mostly house music and electric music, smoking weed, and doing foolish stunts and dares Though he has no training he does show skills in djing and writing music. He also tends to be easily manipulated and peer pressured but later on starts to learn to take his own path and make his own choices!!

Likes:

Tons and tons of parties , Food , beer , weed , hot wings, Hawaiian pizza , Khao Niao Mamuang (Mango Sticky Rice) -favorite food, chili cheese nachos (with wasabi)-favorite food, mint chocolate chip ice cream -favorite food, pistachio ice cream -favorite food , chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream -favorite food, chocolate chip cookies -favorite food, sub sandwiches , and leopards

Dislikes:

Condescending people, long silences , being screamed at, touch (especially non consensual) , being talked down on, avocados, spinach, room temp beverages, fun polices, authority, waiting, long lines, lectures , boats (proned to sea sickness) , and tight spaces (they have claustrophobia)

Hobbies:

Partying, getting extremely high, listening to music, and skateboarding

Relationships:

Caine -

Neutral

Bubbles -

Neutral

Jax -

Absolutely fucking hates Jax, the two deliberately gets on each other's nerves and Jax tends to get under their skin

Ragatha -

He enjoys her presence and company, she's too nice for him to hate and despite how much her kind and caring nature towards them confuses them, he finds her as a nice woman

Gangle -

Neutral

Kinger-

Kinger and Figaro is completely fine with each other and while Figaro sees Kinger as a strange and off putting but also I kind grampa figure, Kinger will do anything in his power to make sure Figaro and Randy's safe and mentally well so that none of them abstracts and becomes just like him

Pomni -

Neutral

Zooble-

The two have a fun aunt and nephew like relationship

Kauphmo -

Unbeknownst to Figaro they barely know much about Kauphmo and what he's like thanks to the amount of interactions the two had (little to no interactions) and they weren't that close but he showed sympathy to knowing that Kauphmo abstracted

Darci (OC) -

Darci and tolerated each other and is even very neutral with each other's presence, they're fine with each other but their interactions aren't as frequent as Randy and Kinger

Randy (OC) -

Randy and Figaro started off as friends, to best friends, to crushes, and to boys friends in slow burn . The two gets a long well do to their somewhat similar behaviors and personalities and they hang out the most in the digital circus, Figaro being the head of the relationship (the one in charge)

How they ended up in Digital Circus:

Was dared to break in to C&A with their friends and steal the headset, was caught in the midst of stealing and out of panic he quickly placed it on

When they ended up in Digital Circus:

A few days after Gangle arrived in the digital circus

Backstory/ Background:

Very long ago waaaaaay before they arrived in the digital world, Figaro's real name was Orson Harris and he was a biracial Thai and black 17 year old college frat boy that had albinism. He had long unravelled orange hair that was in a mullet hairstyle, he had dark green eyes, really pale hazel skin , he was covered head to toe in freckles, he wore a aquamarine hoodie with a black and white number 5 long sleeve tshirt underneath, he wore dark blue denim jeans, a backwards blue cap, and dark green and white sneakers.

He used to live with his extremely emotionally, verbally, and psychologically abusive narcissist and alcoholic mother and his physically, mental, and ect. abusive father that extremely neglectful and always reaked off cigarettes until one day when Orson was outed for being transmasc and bisexual and kicked out of his own home for it.

Ever sense than Orson started to take care of and parent himself , steal food and clothes to survive, live in a hippy van he eventually began to call his own , by the time he hit 17 years old he

went to college for music and there he became frat boy and ended up gaining friends , but not necessarily the right friends but the type of friends that'll peer pressure you into doing terrible things , only ask you for something if they need something, will purposely use you as a scape goat, make fun of you behind your back, and will leave you behind if it meant getting their selves to safety .

One day after a big party Orson's frat besties had the bright idea to break into the C&A company building and steal the game headsets to play games on it , it caused a lot of convincing but they went through with it

the stealth mission went great at first until they were eventually caught , Orson's friends fled the scene and ended up leaving Orson and the stolen headsets behind in the process as Orson ended up getting chased and cornered by a security gaurd.

Out of panic Orson quickly puts the headset on and that's how he ended up in the digital circus.

_______________________________________________

Names : Pesto

Age: 34 years old

Height: 3 ft 6.5 in

Voice claim: Mammon from Helluva Boss

Voice details: scratchy ruff voice with a hint of a thick australian accent

Mental Disorders:

Autism Anxiety and PTSD

Pronouns:

He/Him

Gender/s:

Cis Male

Sexuality/ies:

Pansexual

Body: Stuffed bear

Coping mechanism:

Alcohol and drug abuse

Appearance/s :

A small 3 ft 6.5 in stuffed bear with pink floofy fur and salmon pink rosey cheeks, a backwards neon green bow, a hot pink unibrow , heterochromia button eyes (one turquoise and the other a dark purple), a pudgy body, and black toe beans

What their appearance symbolizes:

Childhood trauma

Personality/ies :

Pesto is a is the walking and talking textbook example of a complete and utter madlad. With a complete inability to give two shots (unless wanted), Chucky is a sadistic, short tempered, egotistical, temperamental and foul-mouthed individual. He also holds strong grudges against his foes and never forgets when someone has crossed him. He's ruff and tuff , brilliant , sassy, and murderous teddy bear with psychopathic and creepily criminal tendencies that makes him too dangerous to be amongst society.

They can also tend to be crude and can also tend to have extremely gross tendencies like digging in his ears or nose, scratching his butt, belching, and ect. ! His brilliance can be muddled by his jaded personal views and his alcoholic tendencies. Pesto is easily bored and does not do well with routine.

He is willing to be extremely brutal such as when people betray them or his life or those close to him are in danger. He is usually portrayed as homicidal and having a large disregard for life.

Pesto is a self-hating "husk" of his former self; He is secretly insecure in ways that are implied to relate to this, and desperately needs validation.

He has a flair for the dramatic and makes a show out of the majority of his actions

Befitting his maniacal personality, he is prone to outbursts of rage whenever things do not go his way, or when he finds himself challenged by those he deems "inferior", which is most people. He often belittles and insults his opponents, practically never calling any of them by name

Other than that they could also tend to have a tender and caring side, caring enough to lend a shoulder for the others to cry on in case they need it!!

Likes:

Sleeping, food , eating , alcohol , drugs, burritos , sweet potato fries, garlic knots, reading, crocheting, scrapbooking, reading, cooking and baking (extremely skilled with that), wood carving , trains (he has a shit load of different types of trainsets),and building a crow collection , alternative rock music, Hardcore punk music, synthwave , sounds of the rain , sounds of nature, and coffee

Dislikes:

Jax , Unsolicited advice and recommendation, Bragging, Tapping, Lack of boundaries in general, People who are one-uppers, Cutting lines, Slow walkers, Know-it-alls, Cracking knuckles, comments on his eating habits, and Passive-aggressiveness

Hobbies:

Sleeping, crocheting , scrapbooking, reading, cooking and baking (extremely skilled with that), wood carving , and building a crow collection

Relationships:

Caine -

Neutral towards Caine and also feels kinda intimidated by him

Bubbles -

Besties

Jax -

Absolutely hates him and because of it the two are always at each other's necks , Jax always has them fuming (brother kind of relationship , but it's more like brother rivalry)

Ragatha -

Besties

Gangle -

Besties

Kinger-

Besties (friend group between Kinger, Ragatha ,Bubble , and Gangle)

Pomni -

Neutral

Zooble-

Neutral

Kauphmo -

Was good friends with him, often hung out with him, talked and interacted with him a lot , and was a shoulder to lean on for him. He honestly didn't take his abstraction well

Darci (OC) -

Neutral

Randy (OC) -

Very close relationship with him and the two kinda have like a found family type of relationship and Randy reminds him of someone but thanks to his extremely blurry memory he just doesn't know who

How they ended up in Digital Circus:

Tried on a pair of headsets do to curiosity

When they ended up in Digital Circus:

He ended up in the circus Right after Ragatha

Backstory/ Background:

A long time ago before Pesto ended up in the world of the Digital Circus, he was once an African American young boy named Giovanni "Gio" Smith that had hazel eyes, he was a small petite black kid with long black floofy hair, he wore a black white and orange striped T-shirt, denim shorts, black leg warmers and orange sneakers

And he didn't have great parents at all and his mom was verbally emotionally physically and mentally abusive while his dad was psychologically physically emotionally and mentally abusive and was a huge alcoholic narcissist and ect. And because of it,

they had to endure all of that until they grew up and is now 34 years old (their current age) and what they look like now is that they're 6'1 feet tall and really chubby, they have a full hair of black wicks, he has a beard , he wears a hot pink white and salmon pink Hawaiian shirt with pineapples all over it, they wear square glasses, he wears black Capri cargo pants, and black and dark brown sandals

And ended up getting a wife named Paiton that's a mixed Black malaysian woman that's a hippy that's a actress,

a ftm transmasc and gay husband named Wren that's a Korean dorky and awkward train conductor,

and a nonbinary Hawaiian spouse named Jean that's a energetic chef along with two daughters and one son

named Aurora (the oldest) , Kuri (Middle), and Damien (the youngest).

One Day on one Christmas Eve night, someone broke in and killed Giovanni's entire family, no matter how much he tried to protect them , they were all still killed.

This sent Giovanni spiraling down a rabbit hole of alcohol and drugs and even murder and mostly people that deserved death, until one day he came across one of his kid's toys that was untouched for years and years

, curious he tries it on himself and BOOM

that's how Pesto came to be (ended up in the digital circus)!!!

_______________________________________________

Name : Darci

Age: 23 years old

Height: 5'9

Voice claim: Either Drye guy or Zeno Robinson

Voice details: He has a transylvanian accent

Mental Disorders:

Autism Anxiety and OCD

Pronouns:

They/Them/Their/They're

Gender/s:

Agender

Sexuality/ies:

Demiromantic

Omnisexual (mostly prefers men)

Body: Wooden puppet

Coping mechanism:

Overthinking

Appearances :

Darci is a cat puppet with a wood like appearance but their tail is plushy (soft material that full of cotton) , puppet mouth (you know the mouth with the lines underneath) , dark red tailed blazer with a black button up shirt underneath, their skin is a mix between blacks grey whites and dark browns but most dark brown (like a tabby calico cat) with dark rosey cheeks, Heterochromia (one eye is a dark brown and the other is a hot pink ), left right (brown eye) has a pupil shaped like a star and their right eye (that's hot pink) has a pupil shaped like a diamond, a light red beret with a yellow star in the front, they wear a dark grey dress vest over their black button up shirt, they wear black fingerless gloves , they wear dress pants where one side is red with black pockets and the other side is black with red pockets, they have a golden winding key on their back, and they wear velvet dress shoes

What their appearance symbolizes:

Loss of control and/or free will or having felt used at some point in life

Personality/ies :

Darci is a wooden puppet that's yet another member of the amazing Digital Circus and is known for being the sophisticated one of the group of performers. They tend to be very vain about their looks a knack /talent over performing in front of a audience, once claiming that they were made for applause and worship.

They also appear to be just as mentally unstable and deranged as the others but not enough to compare to Jax's fucked up mental state, often butting heads with Jax and has a frenemie like relationship with him!!

They're also known for being sophisticated, neat and tidy , dramatic, kind , flamboyant, elegant , formal, blunt , intelligent, nerdy , and artistic and has a thing for the arts and books do to being a book worm!!

Hobbies:

Reading , playing their cymbals, calligraphy, acting, crocheting, brewing, and geocaching

Loves:

Sweet potato fries (favorite food), garlic knots(favorite food), crab rangoons(favorite food), apple pie(favorite food), Aprikosenkuchen (favorite food), papanasi (favorite food) , fancy decor, the color red, tea, basically anything that's sweet, reading , playing their cymbals, calligraphy, acting, crocheting, brewing, and geocaching

Dislikes:

Jax , germs, unclean untidy and/or germy areas, loud chewing, slobby people, obnoxious or annoying people, long lines, slow walkers , being touched especially without consent, being woken up, oily surfaces or food, sweaters, physical touch, and puke

Relationships:

Caine -

Darci appears to have mixed and/or neutral feelings about Caine. On one hand it's hatred do him having caused them to be stuck in the digital circus stripped of their original identity, on the other hand it's fear, and on a third hand it's neutral

Bubbles -

Bubbles also terrifies them but not as much as Caine, they also feel neutral towards Bubble's presence

Jax -

Them and Jax has a frienemies like relationship, but mostly enemies do to Darci only seeing him as a complete rude immature and unpropper asshole

Ragatha -

Similar to Pomni Kauphmo and Gangle Darci sees Ragatha as a friend to the point that they appeared concern when Pomni ran to them and the others without her and simply asking "Are you alright, where's Ragatha?"

Gangle -

Darci sees Gangle as a best friend and is really kind to her and is often seen comforting her when her mask got broken twice and helping her up when Jax pushed her down

Kinger -

Neutral

Pomni -

When they first met her their first concern was that she was going to end up making them having to start the theme song all over again, which pretty much annoyed them and made them hate her. But as the pilot progresses they end up warming up to Pomni , becoming her best friend even

enough to share their personal opinion /experience about the exit door and it wasn't very good

Kauphmo -

Their relationship from the start seemed to be a slow burn relationship from strangers, to friends, to best friends , and to romantic partners and having been concerned for Kauphmo ever sense he started isolating himself, they volunteered to go with Ragatha, Jax , and Pomni to go check on him.

The three's attention seemed to be brought towards Kauphmo the moment they heard

Darci 's high pitch scream be heard from his room before he's heard saying in concern "K-Kauphmo , what happened to you?" .

The moment he realizes helping is futile they then are seen booking it out as they call out "SORRY!!"

By the end of it all , Darci seemed to be in a quiet and depressed state, staring down at their food whole picking at it

How they ended up in Digital Circus:

Tried on a pair of headsets do to curiosity

When they ended up in Digital Circus:

Ended up in the amazing Digital Circus months after Kinger

Backstory/ Background:

In their past life Darci (who's name used to be Audrey J. Dorsey) was a black transylvanian nonbinary guy from Romania , Transylvania that grew up a childhood star and high achiever until 23 years old where they still star in movies, shows, musicals/plays, and commercials as a movie star and there was it's ups and downs of having grew up in entertainment industry,

especially sense there were people out there that didn't actually care about them and only cared about the money, the entertainment they had to offer, and their beauty and there were even some people that only used them for their looks.

Not only that but they used to be in a extremely toxic relationship with a guy named Richie Banks and Richie never treated them right and was a narcissist and alcoholic that was verbally, emotionally, physically, psychologically, and mentally abusive towards Audrey.

One day, a fan gifted them a headset of an interesting game, intrigued they took it home and tried it

And of course that didn't end well.

Ending up in the amazing Digital Circus , slowly but gradually, Darci started losing memories of their identity, name, life, family, and ect.

Becoming the Darci you know today!!!!!

_______________________________________________

Name : Randy Flamingstone

Age: 16 years old

Height: 5'9

Voice claim:

He has a really thick New York accent

Mental Disorders:

ADHD Pyromania and Misophenia

Pronouns:

He/Him/His

Gender/s:

Male (he's transmasc)

Sexuality/ies:

Omnisexual

Body:

80s character Action figure

Coping mechanism:

Ignoring his situation (Denial) and bottling up his emotions

Appearances :

Hot pink hair that's in a pompadour hairstyle, wide grin and tooth gap, turquoise, light blue rosey cheeks , average height and pudgy , plastic skin/body, black fingerless gloves, white button up cargo jump suit with two red pockets on the chest , two orange pockets on both legs , and a #1 on the front, a red race helmet with an orange star on the front, and dark red dress shoes

A dark red purple and black race car with a big purple star on the front cap and his name is Buddy and he's a wacky, energetic, and feral wildcard that loves racing

What their appearance symbolizes:

Their appearance symbolizes how in his past life people has and always will see him as only the kid that has the mom that invented the Randy Flamingstone toys and the show itself

Personality/ies :

Randy Flamingstone is a plastic toy of a really famous cartoon character from an 80s children's show franchise. Randy Flamingstone is known for being as cool as Ice, calm , confident, determined, humorous, charming, and cunning

But Randy can also tend to be as dumb as a rock, he's a huge adrenaline junkie, competitive, pompous , obnoxious, stubborn , and also may have a few screws lose.

Other then that Randy tends to have a vocabulary that consist of bro, bruh, brah, Broski, dude, duddette , rad, radical, home skillet, gnarly, eat my shorts , homegirl/boy/buddy, and the list goes on.

He also has also has a sentient race car with eyes that conveys the emotions that Randy feels.

Randy Flamingstone was originally a 80s mainstream character in media like Barbie or SpongeBob SquarePants, but it's about a Afrolatino magical dare devil / racer that was known for doing crazy stunts and being the most talented famous 80s car racer in history

, originally they were his past live's mom's creation until they became Randy himself when he got a gaming headset for their birthday (The Amazing Digital Circus) !!!

He's has pyromania because before they ended up in the digital circus he ended up in a car accident that caused fire

Sense he has many toy copies of himself and because of it he has identity issues and is extremely insecure another few reasons he has identity issues is also because he's the digital counter part/ branded toy counter part of someone named Tobias Ryus Morales

And both has trauma related to only being known for their image, Randy only being known for being the famous "magical" race car driver with a talking race car friend named Buddy and Tobias only being known for the kid that's the child of cartoonist, Nova Jane Morales (the creator of the Randy Flamingstone cartoon and franchise)!!!!

Hobbies:

Thrill seeking and car racing

Loves:

Cars, thrill seeking, car racing, Being loved , praise , mirrors , checking himself out, dramatic entrances , crossdressing , gumballs , cheeseburgers (favorite food) , Jolt Cola - Cherry bomb (favorite beverage, also I searched up 80s energy drinks for that), energy drinks , racing, race cars, and danger

Dislikes:

Being ignored, wet socks, long lines, waiting , dogs (is terrified of dogs) , Lighting and thunder (has astraphobia, fear of lightning and thunder), slow drivers, slow walkers , gum smacking, People who overstay their welcome, having their personal space invaded, when people touch their race car, and nonconsensual physical touch

Relationships:

Caine -

Nothing much to think about him, all Randy sees is just an extremely intimidating ringmaster, Randy would usually stay on Caine's goodside

Bubbles -

He's completely fine with him and sees him as cool but there are some times he sees Bubbles as strange and disgusting, like when he started licking up Pomni's puke

Jax -

Just like what Jax does to everyone else he's also a complete dick to Randy Flamingstone too and because of it Jax makes him completely fucking heated to the point him and Jax but heads a lot

Ragatha -

Randy and Ragatha have a son and mother type of relationship with each other, to the point that Randy is actually really emotionally attached to her, her personality feels familiar to him but he can't think about who it reminds him of because of the memories he has lost

Gangle -

Neutral

Kinger -

Neutral????

Zooble-

Neutral

Pomni -

When she first arrived, his personality was still shown but he made sure not to be as over the top as he usually is so he didn't end overwhelming her more then she already is and gave her an explanation and heads up for some things that happen at the digital circus

So they're neutral with each other, but there's some care and respect in that relationship

Kauphmo -

Him and Kauphmo's relationship is Neutral

How they ended up in Digital Circus:

He got a headset for his birthday

When they ended up in Digital Circus:

Right after Kauphmo and waaaaay before Pomni arrived

Backstory/ Background:

Waaaaay before he became a Randy Flamingstone figure in the world of the amazing Digital Circus their name used to be , Tobias Ryus Morales and he was a 9 year old chubby afrolatino pyromaniac kid with long dark brown poofy hair, dark brown eyes, reddish brown tan skin, a chubby figure, a tooth gap, a dark purple and sweater, black jeans, and dark purple and black sneakers

His mom, her name is (Nova Jane Morales) was a part of the entertainment industry and she had this character named Randy Flamingstone. Randy Flamingstone is a plastic toy of a really famous cartoon character from an 80s children's show franchise. Randy Flamingstone is known for being as cool as Ice, calm , confident, determined, humorous, charming, and cunning

But Randy can also tend to be as dumb as a rock, he's a huge adrenaline junkie, competitive, pompous , obnoxious, and stubborn not only

that but Randy had a sentient race car named Buddy that's the complete opposite of him. His show and franchise is just as popular as SpongeBob SquarePants, Moster High, or Barbies

and it had a shitload of merchandise, spin offs, video games, and ect. (Along with lore even) just like any other mainstream cartoons.

Because of all of this kids and even his family members never seen Tobias as himself, but only as the the kid who's mom was Nova Morales, he fell down a road of what other child stars ended up going down, drugs and alcohol (but mostly alcohol for him) and not only that but it made Tobias to do risky things , therefore becoming a adrenaline junkie.

One day his friend had the bright idea to race someone down the road, but despite Tobias having a entire adrenaline junkie thing going on and love racing, Tobias didn't think it was a bright idea to go over the speed limit . This caused him to accidentally get into an accident that caused a fire , ending in him becoming both a burn victim and also fueled his pyromania even further !

A year after that incident , it was now Tobias's birthday at the age of 16 years old ,

____________________________________________

( Current appearance when he wasn't in the digital circus: what Tobias looks like is that he has long black poofy hair that's up in a man bun, dark brown eyes, reddish brown tan skin, a chubby figure, a tooth gap, he wears a black button up shirt with a lightning bolt on the pocket, he wears white pants with flames on it, he wears dark red sneakers, black sun glasses with black lenses, and a few piercings)

_______________________________________________

Tobias ended up getting the gaming headset he was begging to get, at the moment he ended up receiving the headset at the present opening time , he ended up trying it

And of course, that didn't end up well for him!!!

This blog better not, flop. I worked hard on these mother fuckers 😭

[solasan]

just to prove we are still here

star wars / kenobi series — obi-wan kenobi/original character (sivala sylwiri). 1.7k. first kiss stuffs :) 

A smuggling route brings Sivala near the Tatoo System for the first time since Obi-Wan gave her his location. Domesticity ensues. 

When she does finally kiss him, it’s the most natural thing in the world.

It’s morning on Tatooine. The twin suns have already begun to burn over the horizon; sweat gathers on Sivala’s brow, even if it’ll be hours yet until high noon, when the heat becomes truly unbearable. Her layers itch uncomfortably against her damp skin. She only makes it a few minutes past dawn before she’s shrugging off her over-tunic and leaving it folded on the bed her and Obi-Wan have shared for the last three days.

Shared. Sivala hasn’t had a bedmate since she was a Padawan. Not that— that’s not what he is, exactly. She’s woken tangled in his arms every morning since she arrived, and the thought of sleeping without him is so impossible that she’s concerned for the coming nights after she leaves, but they haven’t… touched. In that way. Honestly, Obi-Wan was once so renowned for his adherence to the Code that she’s not sure he’s ever touched anyone like that.

Not that she’s asked him, exactly. It’s a thought she’s considered now and again; perhaps more frequently since landing on Tatooine, where she can feel the rise-then-fall of his chest against her bowed spine at night. It’s so much harder to lapse back into loneliness when he’s within arm’s reach, tangible and solid and alive.

On some level, she understands that these kinds of ideas are unworthy of a Jedi; that the path of attachment all-too-frequently leads to the dark side. But here, that doesn’t seem to matter so much. The Code, the Jedi, her vows— strangely enough, it all seems so far away when she’s around her old comrade. There’s just… this. The quiet hum of his vaporator under the hiss and spit of breakfast rehydrating in his kitchen; the low whisper of the wind rushing through the stone chambers of his home. All the domestic sounds of the life this man has made space for her within, however temporary it is.

Make no mistake, this is still an alien environment to picture him in. He was once more suited for the cushy interiors of Coruscanti apartments than anything else, after all. But in the details— yes, there’s something of him there. How organised the space is; the few shabby books he keeps on-hand, stacked neatly in the corner. Even the pale browns and muted oranges of the cave fit him, so that there’s something… soothing about this place she’d never seen before four days ago. 

His aura has always been blue, in her mind’s eye. Maybe she should reconsider.

“Breakfast,” he calls, footsteps shuffling over stone. 

Still halfway through packing away the blankets — as they have to do every morning, she’s learned, or else the sand will get into them by night — Sivala hums and gives him a distracted smile over her shoulder.

“Give me a minute.”

It takes some manoeuvring, but eventually she gets the fabric into place and locks the box away. Then she heaves a sigh and straightens, dusting her hands on her legs once, twice, three times. The sand on Tatooine. It gets everywhere.

“What are we eating?”

The light streams in behind him through the crevasse on the other side of the cave, so when she turns to look at him, she’s blinded for a moment. Long enough for him to cross the cramped space in only a few strides, then offer her one of the plates with a look she’s tempted to name sheepish.

“Hardly a local delicacy, I’m afraid. There’s little in the way of foraging all the way out here.”

Sivala reaches out, peering at it cautiously. It doesn’t look bad, thankfully; just sticky rice and rehydrated fruit, which is better than the carefully-rationed breakfasts they used to share in the old days, at least. She goes to say as much— and then realises he hasn’t let go of the plate yet, and neither has she.

The back of his hand is warm under her palm and questing fingers; calloused and somehow fragile. And it’s suddenly the simplest thing in the world, to lean forward and kiss him in thanks. Like something she’s been doing her whole life. Like— like something she’s meant to do every morning until that life ends.

It’s only quick. A peck. More than reflex; less than conscious choice. She can still feel the brush of his beard against her chin when she pulls away, like a bee sting. It’s a somehow pleasant kind of burn.

“Oh,” he says, afterwards.

Just that. ‘Oh.’ Nothing else. 

Sivala studies him thoughtfully, her eyes narrowing. She doesn’t— think it was unwelcome, or it doesn’t feel like it should be unwelcome, but she suddenly finds herself a little less certain than before. He doesn’t seem repulsed, at least. More than anything, he just looks startled; the lips she just touched part slightly around a hitched breath, his brows arching over wide blue eyes. 

And his aura has gone oddly quiet — after so long alone, she misses its low buzz, just a heartbeat away. But it isn’t panic that rises in her as she watches and waits. It’s… it’s something else. Something more cautious; not like facing an enemy, but like going into battle together again. Like placing her trust and her life in his hands the way she used to.

One of those hands twitches under her own now. Sivala licks her suddenly-dry lips, and he audibly swallows. She watches the movement of his throat under his beard and can only think, beautiful. He’s beautiful.

“Right,” he murmurs, more to himself than her. “Yes.”

“Obi-Wan—”

He puts the plates down on the hunk of rock they’ve been using as a table for the last few days. First his, pushed by the fingers she isn’t touching. She expects him to release her so he can put down the other, but he doesn’t; he just switches hands and places the plate beside his own. Like… like he doesn’t intend on letting her go.

When he turns back to her, he says so softly, “wait.” Like a plea.

So she does.

His hand turns in her own until their fingers tangle; his are oddly cold, for how hot the planet is, and on instinct, she tightens her grip until their palms brush. Something electric and alive shoots up Sivala’s spine at the touch, and she wants— she wants to pull away, or maybe she wants to lean in, but she does neither. Just inhales carefully. Exhales. Watches him watch her.

Watches him— step into her, his face set. He’s drawn close enough now that her arm has to bend at the elbow to accommodate his grip, but it doesn’t hurt. It’s… it’s strangely nice. She can’t remember the last time she stood this close to someone that wasn’t trying to kill her. She’d forgotten what it felt like.

“Obi-Wan,” Sivala whispers, his name plush and sweet and familiar on her tongue.

He shudders out a breath. Again: “Wait.”

With his free hand, he cups her jaw. His pulse throbs through his palm and into her teeth; she could count his heartbeats like this. Count the greys threading through his temples. Count his eyelashes.

She doesn’t do any of those things. She just— waits.

And then, between one moment and the next, he kisses her. He kisses her, and it’s achingly gentle. Like the press of his chest against her back in bed, Obi-Wan’s kiss isn’t an assumption or an imposition; it’s a comfort. Not alone, thumps her heart in triple-time. Not alone anymore.

Maybe he deepens it. Maybe she does. She’s not— things get a little blurry once his mouth opens against hers and she tastes his breath for the first time. Cinnamon and fruit and something spicy on her tongue. Home, for all she never thought it had a taste.

He makes a fragile little noise in the back of his throat, and that has a taste, too, something sharp and cold but somehow refreshing, like ice water behind the teeth. Leaning into him, she chases the sound with a small sigh of her own, luxuriating in the slow ease that kissing him brings with it. It’s like working through Shien manoeuvres before the sun rises, or the way that meditation used to feel to her. It’s— peaceful.

His fingers tremble ever-so-finely where they touch her cheek. With her free hand, Sivala follows the curve of his forearm from inner elbow all the way to wrist; encircles the delicate map of bones and veins between her fingers, and rubs her thumb over his pulse. 

Not alone, she thinks again, this time for his benefit, because she sees no need to guard her mind here. You’re not alone.

Obi-Wan’s breath hitches, his grip on her cheek solidifying slightly as the knowledge settles over them both like a cloak or a warm blanket; a shield against the cold. Their kisses slow, become more lingering, unwilling to part for long. The whole planet has gone silent, but it’s not the kind she usually hates. It’s… reassuring. There’s only this: only them and the air between them and the feeling of relief that comes from it, like finally dousing a rotten wound in bacta.

He barely pulls away, resting his brow on hers, and Sivala feels his reluctance to put any distance between them like it’s her own. Honestly, at this point, it could be. It’s somehow harder to tell the difference between him and her, now, here, with Obi-Wan’s presence wrapped around her as it is. 

She lets herself live in that cottony ambiguity for several more moments, just committing the feeling of it all to memory. In what’s probably the closest to meditation she’s come to in some time, she finds herself picking out the noises around her; his breathing; her heartbeat; a vaporator on the fritz. Such simple sounds, but somehow, they mean so much.

When she opens her eyes, he’s already looking at her. 

“Hello there.”

She huffs a laugh. Presses her forehead more firmly to his. “Hello, indeed.”

There’s a hundred things wrong with the galaxy in this moment. Somewhere, a Force-sensitive child is being ripped away from their mother. Somewhere, an Inquisitor puts a lightsaber through an innocent. Somewhere, goodness is dying.

But here, this morning, there’s breakfast to be eaten and hopefully a few more kisses to be had. So that’s what they’ll do.

[thinkingnot]

I've been wanting to try Indian food for months, but we always ended up going somewhere else :(

Maybe they just don't want y'all getting distracted in school? Also, never heard of werewolf. We have one Vietnamese place somewhat near us and I got beef pho, which was very good. My friend keeps telling me to try banh mi. I'm fully aware their food is likely not authentic, btw. Any other foods you'd say I need to try? Vietnamese and otherwise, trying to widen my palate. Seeing as I was raised white as hell I mean. Lmao

hmmmm

- Bún bò is one of my favorites, its beef noodle soup the main tastes are sour&savory, it pairs nicely with lemon and satay :D!! (idk how to make it though i just eat them at stores :o)

- Bánh mì bò kho, stewed beef and carrots, spices and lemon grass with bread (bánh mì), usually paired with some fresh cucmbers and aromatics, its really good and utilize the toughest part of the beef (as my mum does it) that is really cheap to buy :D!!

- bánh cuốn, bánh nậm - these are hard to make (the formet needs something similar to a crepe pan and the flipping is impossible to master 😭, the latter i dont know hơ its made i just eat them :D) and idk if you could find them but if you do you should try them out!!

- taiwanese beef noodle, my mum can send you the recipe if you want :D!!! though theres some spices my dad had to bring back from taiwan to make it so i dont know if youll have it, it also requires some time to stew, but ITS SO GOOD!!!

- panipuri is a nice (albeit a bit cold) spiced appetizer to have if you like crunchy crispy stuffs :D

- the caramelized pork and eggs i mentioned is really good and i think the infredients wont be that hard to fond if you want to make it yourself :D (though it will take some time as it need to be stewed for quite long)

- yo banh mi is great you definitely should try it!!, its the iconic breakfast food :D! or lunch food, or dinner, banh minis good all day 😎

- bánh chưng bánh giầy: the former i mentioned is our traditional new years food, might be hard to get but some stores vacuumed ones that lasts for months and the latter is so good with chả (pork bologna) and salt&pepper. The reason to try is because they got this really cool legend to it which i am going to give you a short retelling :D:

The 6th Hung king wanted to pass his throne onto one of his kids, to determine a worthy future king he made all of them compete to hand him the most meaningful and delicious platter of food.

His 18th son, Lang Liêu is a really kind hearted, pious man who’s mother passed early -> mans (dirt) poor, and was ashamed of that as he couldn’t get to luxurious ingredients like his brothers.

One night, a god came into his dream and told him: “Between the sky and earth, nothing is as valuable as rice, it sustains us. Use sticky rice to make round and square shaped cakes. Round for the sky and square for the earth, wrap them in leaves and fill them with fillings inside in shape of the mother and father that birthed” <- bunch of ramblings but mans was just like yo make these things and say they means stuffs youll get the job

so lil Lang Lieu did and his father was so delighted with it, and the afforability of it, he made Lang Lieu king! And the people eat them cakes every year 👍

(not to be confused with bánh tét <- cylindrical shaped 😔, idk if the south got a legend for it, the one above was taught in school)

[bouncehousemortgage]

Man... but if I walk around eating baby food then I'll look like an anorexic. Nooo. I promise I'm trying to eat more I'm just bad at chewing and swallowing.

I bought new snacks though so maybe that will help. I can easily eat chips and popcorn. It's just hard to eat meals for me unless it's rice or some kind of easy and moist sandwich. Some foods are too dry or too sticky and it stresses me out to eat them. I am physically incapable of eating PB&J sandwiches. This wasn't always the case, idk what changed that now I'm too afraid to eat them. Every time I eat PB&J I'm so afraid that its going to stick in my mouth or I'm going to choke. It's been YEARS and I still can't eat them.

I really like peanut butter but I can only eat it in savory foods like in a curry or I can eat it with chocolate, but I can't have it on bread because it's too sticky and I will gag too much.

But it's so frustrating because I don't know why this happens to me. There are sooooo many things I can't eat because I just gag so much or I choke on it or I'm too afraid of it being sticky or that I'm gonna choke and then I end up starving myself because there aren't many foods I can eat quickly.

I wish konjac jelly was higher calorie because I love konjac jelly snacks and they're so easy to eat. Or even jello type things. if they were not made of gelatin and also high calorie I would eat them all the time. I recognize that pudding is an option but I don't like pudding, only custard, and even then....

IDK what new snacks to try because I ate too many cheese sticks and now I'm tired of them. Cheese sticks were my best friend, but now I don't want them, I want popcorn and lychee flavor jelly and mandarin oranges. But none of those things are very strong snacks. I could go back to pistachios or pumpkin seeds but I'm not super interested in them rn. I have plenty of peanuts but I am currently anti-peanut and pro-popcorn. So idk what to do..

Maybe small, bite-size pastries??? I wish I had the time and space to make them bc I think it would be nice to make little bite size puff pastries with goats cheese and fig. Or if I had a melon baller I could buy some melon, make melon and cheese skewers and eat them with bread and hummus?

But I haven't made any hummus lately either. I was going to but I got distracted.

Idk why I cant have peanuts AND popcorn. I either want peanuts OR popcorn but I never have a phase where it's okay to eat both.

[thepoetoaster]

For lunch I had Thai inspired sticky rice with mango, lime, scallions & cinnamon with this aloe Vera drink 😍 The DV shelter works with this food pantry where they have tons of things donated like fresh fruits and veggies that go bad if not eaten. There is an ABUNDANCE of food, there is enough for everyone, no one should ever worry about going hungry ever!! Imagine if you never had to worry about paying rent or buying food ever again… how much time that would free up in your schedule. My guess is there would be a renaissance of sorts, people would have more time to be creative and pursue the arts. Is it just me or is the entertainment industry just like…. Not as great as it once was? Like listening to music growing up it would always make me *feel* things and now it’s just seems kind of soulless… Same for movies, I can’t remember the last time I saw a film that made my soul burn or made me desperately want to go to theatre to see it!!! I saw “King Richard” the other day and it was pretty good but it didn’t like… WOW me? I found myself getting distracted and bored many times throughout it. I’ve heard rumors that Hollywood was taken over by satanic pedophiles so maybe that has something to do with it. #vegan #veganism #veganfood #whatveganseat #govegan #veganinspo #dairyfree #veganinspiration #vegansofig #veganlife #foodpics #veganfoodporn #foodie #healing #plantbased #raiseyourvibration #fitness #weightloss #savetheanimals #cleaneating #buffalovegan #buffalony#cooking #baking (at Allegany Forest) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cf9fmHHulm_/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[amjustagirl]

Hogwarts AU (Haikyuu!!)

feat. Miya Osamu 

For the darling @1tooru

Send me an ask with characters you’d like to see me write, whether in the Hogwarts setting or whatever you’d like to suggest, and I’ll try my best to make it work! 

Masterlist link here

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff

A/N: Assumed that the food served is Japanese, not gonna give the Haikyuu boys bad British food (no hate pls!! been traumatised by a recent trip to the UK :p )  

Miya Osamu (Slytherin)

All you knew about him was that he was one half of the famous Miya twins, and with Miya Atsumu strutting down the hallways with a cocky grin, no one would fault you for assuming his twin would be much the same. 

Not to mention the fact that Osamu is a fearsome chaser in his own right, causing such havoc during the match with Ravenclaw that Kuroo, the keeper, nearly tore his hair out mid-match.

You’ve developed a habit of sneaking away to the kitchens, spending evenings with the house-elves, trying to re-create the tastes from home. 

The Japanese food served day in, day out is good - you do enjoy the taste of dashi and miso and soy and pickles. 

But sometimes, just sometimes, you miss the heavier spices like tumeric and five spices, tropical flavours like coconut milk and jackfruit and pandan.

So you sneak into the kitchens and persuade the house-elves to let you experiment with their more exotic ingredients. 

And imagine your surprise when you discover that your sanctuary of food is invaded by one Miya Osamu. 

‘O-oh! I didn’t know the house-elves let anyone else in here’, you stammer, face red, expecting the stereotypical Slytherin response of a sneer to grace his face. 

But to your surprise his face remains expressionless, only shrugging his shoulders with grace. ‘Kitchen’s enough for us two, I suppose’, and he turns back to the rice balls he’s moulding in his hands. 

Three encounters later, you realise he’s not surly - just somewhat reticent and a little shy. You figure it comes with the territory of having a loud-mouthed twin. 

He offers you the onigiris he creates, cracks a smile when you moan over a mouthful of poached egg and soy-flavoured rice, his rendition of the humble tamago kake gohan, the Japanese staple of a raw egg over steaming white rice. His eyes widen in turn when you teach him the wonders of pandan flavoured custard and mango with sticky rice.  

‘You don’t seem like a typical Slytherin’, you gather the courage to make the bold statement one night, when the pair of you are sitting shoulder to shoulder in front of the kitchen fire, sharing a tuna mayo onigiri. 

‘Cos I’m not as ambitious as my lout of a twin?’ he asks, amused. 

You shake your head, trying to deny his statement, but the corners of his eyes only crinkle further. 

‘The Sortin’ Hat gave me a choice between Slytherin and Hufflepuff’, he says. ‘’Tsumu got sorted before me, and I guess I didn’t wanna leave ‘im alone. Who knows what he’d do if I’m not there to stop his shit’. 

‘So you’re in Slytherin for the greater good?’ you joke. 

He snorts, trying his best not to choke on a mouthful of rice. ‘I guess ya could say that, I suppose’. 

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

You don’t tell anyone else about your evening sojourns in the kitchens with Miya Osamu. 

After all, he and Atsumu have a legion of crazed fans, and even though most seem to be gunning for the blonde twin, it’s enough to put you off acknowledging him beyond a shy nod between classes or two. 

Still, someone must have seen you leave the kitchens together, because nasty notes start appearing in your bag, and whispered curses are shot your way, causing your shoelaces to twine together in twisted knots, and your bag to split open when you’re rushing to class. 

You keep your head down, figuring that it’ll only get worse if you fight back. 

‘Why do ya have bruises on yer legs’, he frowns, distracted from his latest culinary experiment. 

‘It’s nothing’, you demur, trying to tug your skirt down to hide your legs but he catches your wrist in one warm, large hand. 

‘Who did this to ya?’, he asks, eyes thunderous when he sees the tapestry of mottled bruises on your knees and calves. 

You try to lie, tell him it’s no one, you’re just clumsy and tripped over your own feet, but he’s relentless and his mouth settles into a taut line when you finally admit that a couple of his fangirls may have gone a little too far in trying to warn you off him. 

‘They don’t get that we’re just friends’, you say quietly, refusing to meet his gaze, a smart move considering the way your heartbeat stutters in your chest.

‘I’ll deal with it’, he promises, and he does, because the next day, the same few girls come to breakfast with red rimmed eyes and apology notes find their way into your bag instead.  

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

Since then, you have to admit that you’ve fallen head over heels for Miya Osamu.  

It’s the most cliched thing in the world to pine after a boy who doesn’t look at you the same way, but you can’t help it. 

He’s gorgeous, with broad shoulders and a slim waist, brown eyes that glimmer occasionally with such kindness that you forget he wears green and silver. 

It’s so easy to pretend that his protectiveness is a symptom of potential romantic feelings for you - but he continues to treat you as he always has, a partner in his culinary adventures, and nothing much else. 

So you trudge along, hiding your feelings until his birthday. 

You charm a paper plane to land in his plate during breakfast that day. He unfolds it, the corner of his lip quirking upwards when he reads your message - ‘Meet me at the kitchens tonight? Got a little special surprise for you!’

He grins - a rare sight, when you and the house-elves burst into song when he climbs through the portrait hole, and laughs out loud when you present him with the chocolate you made with the help of the house-elves. 

‘It’s not perfect, I know’, you tell him apologetically, staring balefully at the too-runny chocolate frosting, and the slanted icing that spells his name. 

‘It looks perfect to me’, he answers, cutting a huge slab for the both of you to share. 

You flush when he insists on feeding you the last bite of cake, your heart pounding when his palm is warm on the small of your back when he walks you back to your tower. 

‘Thanks for the birthday present’, he says when you reach your destination. ‘But forgive me for bein’ greedy and stealin’ one more present from you’. 

Then he gently tilts your face up to meet his, and bends down, slanting his mouth over yours and - oh. 

He tastes of dark chocolate and frosted cake, and his arms circling you still bear the warmth of the fireplace you’ve shared over countless frosty nights. It’s a dream come true, and you’re still breathless when he pulls away. 

‘Was that too much?’ he asks quietly, a note of anxiety in his voice. 

‘Not at all’, you whisper back, the thrumming of your heart betraying that you’d very much like to do it again. 

And when you’re back in your bed tonight, lips swollen from Osamu kissing you senseless in the corridor that night, you’re not sure whose birthday it is - his or yours, the way all your wishes have come true. 

[paellaplease]

HAII!! if it hasnt been done yet, could you do revali x reader with basorexia? maybe reader really wants to give him a kiss but she really cant since,, yknow she has lips and he has a fuckin beak so she just decides to give him a lil smooch on the cheek? idk that was just an idea i had in mind, u dont have to write it!

22. basorexia - the overwhelming desire to kiss.

pairing: revali x reader summary:  revali spirits you away to enjoy the new years eve festivities.

   In the darkness of your room, you awoke to the sound of a soft tapping on your window. Twisting in the mess of blankets and pillows, you pushed aside the papers and textbooks that had accumulated at the foot of the bed, noticing only then that the candle at your desk had long since extinguished. 

Head pounding, you rubbed at your tired eyes, feeling heavy. How long had you been asleep?

The tapping grew more insistent, forcing you to get up. Grumbling, you allowed yourself a second to stretch, ignoring how your room felt like water sloshing in a glass. 

"Yeah, yeah. Hold on!" You said, hobbling to the window. Brushing the mess of hair from your eyes, you pulled the curtains away and roughly pushed it open. 

The culprit hovered outside, eyes bright and smug. Revali looked very much at home though he was floating at a dizzying distance away from the ground. In the sleepy haze, he looked like a painting of some myth you had read before, with the late night sky as his backdrop and the outline of your window as his frame. 

"Took you long enough."

"Apologies. I thought some tree branches were hitting the glass." 

The Rito made a show of turning in the air. "Funny, I don't see any nearby trees."

"I know," you sighed, disappointed. 

Revali rolled his eyes and poked his head through the window, feathers brushing past your cheek as he ignored your personal space in favour of scoping out your room. The stiff turn of his neck as he looked around reminded you of the curious and confused little birds that landed on the sill from time to time. 

"Quite a dreary home you have here." Gesturing to the overall darkness, he pointed to your stack of scattered papers. "You shouldn't study without proper lighting, it's bad for your eyes." 

"I was asleep."

"Why, I'm surprised. And here I thought you were one of the festive many who choose to stay awake at an ungodly hour in order to count down the remaining seconds of the year."

"Well," you shrugged, not wanting to meet his eyes. "Not like it's anything special. New year, same shit. What difference would a countdown do?" 

Biting down on your tongue, you stopped yourself from saying anymore. The cold breeze sifted past the light shirt you were wearing, making you shiver. 

He was right, normally you were one of those people who stayed up, excitedly watching the hands of the clocktower tick til they reached midnight. You enjoyed the energy of being in a collective crowd, waiting with bated breath for the first inhale and exhale you would take into the brand new year.

The final month on the Hylian calendar brought a sense of relief and a hope for new beginnings. Usually today of all days  you were at your happiest, jumping at the prospect of celebrating along with the rest of the kingdom and yet…

That sinking weight clawed at your chest again, forcing you to clamp down on it once more.

You grimaced. There it was; that bitter feeling. Hylia. How annoying. It twisted in your brain like an angry snake, pulling down your mood and enthusiasm along with it. 

Last year you wanted to cheer and dance until the morning light. Now all you felt like was staring at the wall. Or falling asleep. 

You blinked, turning back to the window to see Revali patiently waiting for you to continue. Feeling your face warm, you hustled your brain to get a move on. A coherent thought would be great right about…now!

"Hey have you ever wondered why they don't grow trees on this side of the castle? It's not fair the more expensive quarters get all the pretty greenery. I mean, non-noble guests still need that sweet oxygen everyone keeps raving about, you get me?" Shut up brain, that's enough. I said a coherent thought. C o h e r e n t. 

Stars in his wings, Revali shook his head but answered anyway. "I agree, it's hardly fair. Also go change into something warm, we need to get you outside."

"What? Why?"

Something in the Rito's expression clued you in to the fact that he wasn't in the mood to play stupid. You've been sitting in the dark for the past few days and it didn't take a private investigator to know it was playing tricks with your head. "Fine, but when I say we go back--we go back, got it?"

He huffed, turning around to give you some privacy. "I promise on my honour."

The brightly lit lanterns of the town square made you squint as you shuffled closer to your guide, the sound of the city loud in your ears.

Though less prominent, the twisting feeling in your gut continued, making you more hyper-alert than usual to the world around you. Adjusting the sleeves of your coat, you followed Revali past the streets, the Rito expertly navigating through the sea of people. 

Somewhere along the way he had taken your hand, and you told yourself it was a good way for you both to stick together. Wouldn't want you getting lost and spending the final minutes of the year playing an elaborate game of hide and seek after all. He was a great friend like that. Nevermind that everytime you would hold his wing a little tighter to remind yourself that he was there, he would always squeeze back. 

You needed a distraction. 

Just focus on everything that's not him.

The night was alive with the sound of music. It didn't matter if you partied with an alcoholic drink in hand, or a glass of milk, everyone in Hyrule was filled with an addictive buzz that came with an event that only happened once a year. Vendors with bright smiles called out from their stalls, the smell of freshly baked sweets or the sizzle of a barbecue beckoning you to take a closer look. To your left, a group of friends raised their hands in the air, loudly welcoming a Goron that had turned up late but regardless had finally arrived. 

The archer followed your line of sight, guessing the question bouncing in your head. "Daruk is in Eldin, probably rattling Death Mountain with that story again about the Moblin camp and the barrel of explosives."

"I love that story."

"Of course you would."

"Sorry about your feathers though."

"Whatever, they grew back."

"How about the one's on your--"

"Anyway," he interjected quickly, playfully nudging you to the side and glowering at your laughter. "We've been told to 'take a break'. The other Champions have chosen to spend this day with their families and loved ones. We are planning to regroup and continue preparations in the days following."

"How about you?"

"I already said it."

Your cheeks coloured at the implications of his words, mind replaying the previous sentence. Families and loved ones. Families and loved ones. He didn't even hesitate. You both were not related. So that left you with...

"Woah!" Digging your heels into the dirt, you abruptly paused your brisk walk and saved yourself from colliding with the archer's back. 

Stopping at one of the stalls, Revali held two fingers up. You glanced up at him questioningly but he refused to give anything away, expression relaxed. The vendor returned quickly, the Rito thanking them quietly and placing the payment on the bright yellow table cloth along with a large tip in their jar. 

He turned around, dropping a square shaped pastry into your hands. It was some kind of rice cake, with a fluffy exterior and a golden baked surface that smelled of butter and felt warm like the sun. 

Taking a bite, you smiled at the hints of coconut that were hidden in its sweet flavour. The sticky treat was familiar somehow. "Is this so luck sticks to you in the new year?"

Revali scoffed, though failed to hide his own smile behind the cake held in his wing. "You said the same thing when we first met. You need new material."

"Says the baron of bird puns."

"I am the king." He punctuated the statement by biting into his own rice cake. Offering his wing, he gently took your hand once more, turning back to step again into the busy promenade. 

Following him, you noticed that the crowds ever so slowly began to thin. A lantern lit hill was coming up. The grassy expanse was dotted with a few people, though it was blessingly not as populous as the town square. "I should be the one that's surprised. Thought you hated crowds unless their attentions were all on you."

"It's tolerable so long as I am with good company." 

The both of you walked up the hill with an unspoken agreement to make it to the top. Taking a seat on the grass, you allowed yourself to breathe, chest heaving from the small burst of exercise after days of being sedentary. 

The twinkling lights of Castle Town stretched out before you. Gazing at it, you could imagine all the untold stories hidden in the glowing little pockets of the alleys and in the hushed whispers behind closed doors. Funny how in a city so full of people, one can feel so alone. 

Revali was the first to speak, breaking you from your thoughts. "I think I can understand now. Looking at it from this distance, it really can feel like nothing much has changed."

You continued to stare at the lights, trying to focus on a certain string in an attempt to ground yourself. "Yeah. Sometimes it feels like though the world continues to spin, I'm remaining completely still. Just stagnant."

Frowning, you ran your hands through the grass, feeling the dirt shift under your fingers. You could feel your frustrations building, bubbling up to the surface with no way of dragging them back down. 

"And the challenges just get worse every year. How am I going to face those old problems and these new ones if I'm still the same lost person I was back then?"

Your voice echoed at the last sentence, making you hide your head in embarrassment. That was loud. 

Some strangers relaxing on the hill turned around to flash you an annoyed glare, before quickly returning to their picnics after spotting the Great Eagle Bow on your friend's back. 

 "I'm so sorry." You wanted more than anything then to dig a hole and hibernate preferrably for the next hundred years or so. "I'm yelling, that isn't like me. I'm so so--"

"There's nothing to be sorry about. You needed to say it." He glanced at you from the corner of his eye. There was a serious element to it that made it a little hard to breathe. "There is one part of that I don't agree with, however."

"What is it?"

"That entire section about you, how did you put it, stagnanting." He twisted a wing in the air, thinking on his words before pointing a feather directly at your face. "You're fully capable of enacting the change you want to see in yourself."

You felt a little dizzy now. But another kind of dizzy, one very different from the vertigo you felt waking up in the darkness of your room. 

"And who said you were exactly the same as you were back then? You've changed. In a good way. You're stronger and more capable of things I'm sure the person you were two years ago or even less couldn't even fathom doing." 

Turning to face you, Revali gave you his full attention, compelling you to do the same as the cadence of his speech joined the steady rhythm of your own beating heart. From the back of your mind, you could barely register the sound of people gathering together, their voices floating into the cold night air. 

'Ten!'

"It's difficult to see your own progress from a distance."

'Nine!'

"So take my advice and start looking at yourself up close for once."

'Eight!'

He had that expression on his face, one that said he was thinking too hard about something. It was like watching him try to pull the planets together with just a piece of string. His brows were furrowed so deep that your fingers wished to run over his feathers and smoothe the worried creases. 

'Seven!'

You slowly reached out to him, giving him enough time to back away. Revali stilled as your hands traced up the nape of his neck, leaning in as his pulse thrummed underneath the soft pads of your fingertips. 

'Six!'

He opened his beak the moment you reached his face. You paused, half expecting him to tell you to let go and pretend like it never happened. 

Instead, he called out your name. 

'Five!'

He said your name again, though quieter now. It was enough to tug at the invisible force drawing you two together. Enough so that the polite distance nervously enforced by the both of you gradually began to dissipate, trailing away like a ribbon of smoke as you both leaned in closer.

'Four!'

"May I--," He cleared his throat, eyes darting away for a second before they were back on you again. Bright green in the lantern light. Emeralds in the desert sand. 

'Three!'

"May I kiss you?"

"Yes."

'Two!'

"Your way or mine?" You couldn't help but joke. Revali smiled, exhaling a soft joyful laugh before pressing his forehead to yours. 

'One!'

'Happy New Year!'

An earth-shaking boom rattled your ears, but all you could think of in that moment was Revali and the feel of his feathers against your skin; the utter elation of being so close to someone you deeply cared for and that cared just as deeply for you. 

In the dazzling light you lifted your head from his, both your eyes meeting for a brief moment. Hands moving, you gently angled his face with a steady hand, feeling then the soft, butterfly light brush of his wings on your waist.

Closing your eyes again, you leaned in to press your lips against his beak, the blush on your face warmer than any fever or furnace. The Rito's soft sigh was barely audible as you trailed your kisses upwards, stopping at the red circle on his cheek. 

Revali laughed again as you turned his face to press a kiss to the identical red mark on the other side. "You're very thorough."

"You deserve it." You beamed. "And this is just the beginning, just you wait at the end of the countdown I'll--"

"Actually my dear," he grinned, pointing to the sky. 

"Huh?"

Above you were the vibrant colours of the firework display. It was beautiful and awe-inspiring, but a confirmation that you were definitely minutes in to the new year.

"Oh," you said, before shaking your head with a smile. "It's fine, we got 12 more months to prepare ourselves for the next one."

Revali nodded, pulling you closer so he could press your foreheads together again.

"Indeed," he grinned. "Now will you finish your sentence? What exactly were you going to do at the end of the countdown?"

fin. 

[hualianff]

Smol XL

Modern AU where HX comes home around one in the morning after his night shift at a restaurant known for its exquisite fish dishes. Even after taking a dinner break during his shift, HX is starving.

It takes HX several tries to jam his key into the lock before successfully stepping into his apartment. His numb feet carry him through the foyer, heading straight to the fridge.

On his way to the kitchen, the open space to the living room grants HX a view of his roommate HC’s head turned to the television. Some sort of rom-com mixed with martial arts plays on the screen—not what HC typically watches, but HX doesn’t care enough to think too much of it.

With a large yawn, HX opens the fridge in hopes there is something moderately tasty to snack on. The sweet and tangy smell of pork hits HX’s nose, surprising him. HC must have cooked tonight because there was no pork in the fridge this afternoon when HX left for work.

HX reaches for the container sitting on the shelf at chest level, inspecting the overflowing contents of pork, veggies, and rice. He is momentarily skeptical. It’s strange for HC to leave so many leftovers after cooking. It seems HC has left enough that HX can snag a portion. When it comes to his roommate, HX certainly takes what he can get.

After glancing at the lid, HX spots a small sticky note with elegant hand-writing: He Xuan ♡

(HX: 🤨)

HX turns to the counter.

There’s another container with semi-burnt cookies in the middle of the island.

(HX: 😲 )

Begrudgingly, HX scoops the leftover food and some cookies into a bowl to take to his room. On his way, HX is forced to pass by the living room. This time he is afforded a side view of the couch.

Sure enough, HC’s boyfriend is tightly wedged between his legs, leaning back against HC’s chest. A purple velvet blanket covers them both, combining their forms into one huge blob.

The couple doesn’t notice HX. Or at least, HC side-eyes HX for a split second before leaning his chin on his boyfriend’s shoulder, eyes glued back to the television.

HX shakes his head, then scurries into his room.

Even if HC is going to have XL over for dates and permeate the air with romance when HX is home, at least they always save food for him.

***

When HX gets up at a quarter till seven to brew his morning coffee, he’s met with the sight of XL cheerfully mixing pancake batter in just boxers and a t-shirt that is clearly HC’s because of the way it slips off one shoulder.

HX rapidly blinks as his eyes immediately locate all the love bites littered on XL’s collarbone.

“He Xuan, hi! Good morning!” XL exclaims, turning to face the taller man.

“Morning,” HX greets with a nod of his head. To distract himself from the physical evidence that HC is a goddamn leech, he rounds the counter until he stands beside XL. Out of politeness, HX asks, “What are you making?”

“Pancakes! I’m trying this new recipe that my mother sent me. They’re supposed to be extra fluffy and savory, and I’m going to add blackberries since those are San Lang’s favorite,” XL explains distractedly. HX assesses the bowl of blackberries, bottle of syrup, and whipped cream on the island behind them. “And don’t worry, I’ve made enough servings for the three of us and possibly extra. But that depends how hungry you and San Lang are.”

HX stares wordlessly at XL’s side profile as XL turns the stove on with a brief click! The shorter man holds his palm over the pan, waiting for it to heat up.

It’s safe to say HX is thoroughly touched, though he would rather not admit it. Despite his snarky comments, HC cares for HX with little things like doing his laundry or buying HX’s favorite snacks on a spontaneous grocery run. Then there’s XL who goes out of his way to strike conversations with HX to ask about his days and of course, cook for HX.

The two of them make quite a pair.

So here HX is, helping XL flip the pancakes while XL himself decorates the stack designated for HC. Once enough pancakes for the three of them have been cooked–half the bowl of batter left–HX picks his plate up, standing behind XL to wait for the toppings.

HX is in the middle of telling XL about this one customer who eats at the restaurant every week just to request that the head chef, which is HX, surprise them for their dinner order. It baffles HX to no end. What was the point of going to a restaurant and relying on the chef to decide what you’re going to eat?

“How can a person be so bold?” HX asks in disbelief. He tugs at the collar of his black t-shirt, itching at an area on his shoulder where his uniform slightly chafed the skin. XL laughs lightly, followed by the sound of whipped cream splattering out.

“Well, they certainly have your attention, don’t they?” he teases, flashing HX a smile over his shoulder.

HX jerks back at that.

“What? No, they don’t. Not like what you’re thinking. No. Nope, not like that-” HX rambles, narrowing his eyes at the shorter man.

“What’s their name?”

“...”

XL merely raises his eyebrows. HX exhales sharply, breaking eye contact with the devil’s counterpart.

“How could I not know? Their name is always on the receipt. It’s not my fault I’ve memorized it from seeing it so many times.”

“I never said anything was your fault. But…” XL trails off. He turns back to sprinkle some chocolate shavings onto HC’s pancakes. “Are they hot?”

HX outwardly scoffs. Seriously, HC is a terrible influence on his boyfriend!

(Little does HX know, it goes both ways.)

“What- what kind of question is that? Completely irrelevant. I’m a chef who does their job. I don’t care about a customer’s looks; I care about their tastes and whether they are sufficed by the food we serve. Nothing more,” HX insists.

He is unknowingly babbling at this point. He doesn’t know why his big mouth makes its appearance whenever he’s with XL. It just happens. Which HX will regret within a few hours. But it’s okay because no matter what HX has to say, XL is the type of person who will always listen.

Having at the very least one person like this in his life is not something HX will take for granted.

“-and it seems to work because they always leave generous tips, which I’m not complaining about-”

A raspy dominant voice asserts itself in the middle of HX’s monologue.

“Why the fuck are you talking to yourself?”

HX pauses his rambling, eyes rolling to the ceiling. This dickhead-

But before HX can turn around to respond with a defensive “fuck off,” XL’s entire body straightens up. With the plate of neatly stacked pancakes piled with berries, whipped cream, and chocolate, XL peeks his head out to the side of HX’s figure.

“San Lang! I made pancakes-!”

A startled choking sound snags in HC’s throat.

“Gege!?”

HX, in the middle of such a comical scene, can barely contain his amused smirk.

***

Bonus:

HC internally screams as XL settles into his arms for their movie night. He loves squeezing XL against his body. Hugging him from behind. Tickling him. Really, anything to get his boyfriend’s attention. (As if he doesn’t already hog most of it.)

XL alike loves being in HC’s arms. He loves listening to HC’s heartbeat while leaning back against him; loves feeling HC’s laughs reverberate against his chest.

Towards the end of the first movie, HC playfully pokes XL on the cheek. When XL turns his head around with an indignant expression, HC grabs his chin and places loving pecks all over those soft cheeks. XL instantly smiles, eyes curving into crescents from the affection.

HC quickly gravitates towards XL’s lips, pressing his mouth firmly against XL’s. Within seconds, HC’s grip on XL’s jaw tightens as he kisses his boyfriend with urgency, swiping a tongue against his bottom lip.

XL, gasping out a breathless: “Hmmph-! San Lngg-!”

Twenty minutes into their makeout session, the smoke alarm goes off. The couple breaks apart from the blaring beeping.

XL: “MY COOKIES-“ *leaps off of HC*

HC, winded as XL uses him as a springboard to jump off the couch: “OOF-“ *wheezes*

Raws:

XL IS SHORT ENOUGH TO NOT BE SEEN FROM THE BACK OF THE COUCH. HC’S FRAME COMPLETELY SHIELDS HIM.

XL IS SMOL COMPARED TO HIS TOL BF

HX saw the food and was like “yep, Xie Lian is definitely over, even if I can’t currently see him”

(Special thanks to @no-one-says-hi for contributing/listening)

[mizunetzu]

I just skipped school and binge read all of your fanfics- They’re really good gRRRRrrr 🥺🥺 Keep up the good work!! That being said- Can I request a fluffy Hawks x male reader where the reader has a cold and is stuck in bed and Hawks takes care of him? Thank you vv much!!!

HAHHAHA WHY IS ALL MY HAWKS REQUESTS ALWAYS FLUFF (I mean ur like my second one but it’s still flufF) (and not that this wasn’t fun to write cuz it was HAAHA I’m lowkey proud)

(Also gRRRRur so nice but GO TO SCHOOL >:( BARK BARKK BAEKR)

——————

Hawks x reader - The Sick Fic

⚠️warnings - it’s as the title says. It’s the sick fic.

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

(Y/n) coughed up sticky red blood.

“Y-yeah, no. I don’t think I can patrol today, Yusha-san. The villain from yesterday activated their quirk on me-and I’m feeling a bit sick.”

Yusha, the secretary to the (L/n) hero agency, typed something down on his computer. “Is it something we should be concerned about?”

“No.” (Y/n) croaked out with a chuckle. “Their quirk isn’t really dangerous, but it did make me a bit sick. It’ll pass, don’t worry.”

“Ok. I’ll send in one of your sidekicks to patrol with Hawks-san today.” More typing from across the phone. (Y/n) pursed his lips.

“U-uh,”

“Don’t worry. I’m sending a male sidekick.” Yusha practically read his mind. (Y/n) didn’t want any stupid girls hitting on his stupid, popular, pro-hero patrol buddy boyfriend.

“Thank you, Yusha-san.”

“It’s nothing. Get some rest, (H/n). We expect you to show up tomorrow.” Yusha ended up before (Y/n) could even say goodbye. He lazily dropped his phone onto his bedside table, burying himself under his bedsheets as best as he could. Just as he was getting comfy, the urge to cough up more blood kicked him in the stomach.

He flung himself over his bed, practically shoving his head into the small waste bin under his bedside table. He wiped his mouth with his forearm after hacking up more blood, his head suddenly feeling hazy and jumbled.

He groaned, and got under the bedsheets once more. The world seemed to be against him today, as another distraction forced him out from his beauty sleep.

His phone buzzed once. Twice. Then the annoying, overlapping ring of multiple messages being spammed buzzed out his phone, making (Y/n) cover his ears with his pillow.

Annoyed, he patted around the side table til’ his hand landed on his phone, pulling it towards him and under the sheets.

‘Keigo 🍗 - where r u :(‘

‘Keigo 🍗 - who’s this...rando dude patrolling wit me :(((‘

‘Keigo 🍗 - r u asleep or smth’

‘Keigo 🍗 - wake up ur late to patrol and I need my yakitori addiction funded today’

‘Keigo 🍗 - DUDE’

‘Keigo 🍗 - BBBBBBBBBB’

‘Keigo 🍗 - IM NOT GONNA STOP SPAMMING U TILL U ANSWER ME OR SHOW UP AN PATROL WITH ME >:(((‘

(Y/n) sighed. He opened the messages, meaning that Keigo would get the ‘message read’ notification, but he couldn’t care less. Tossing the phone lazily on the table, he muted the messages app.

———

(Y/n) stirred in his sleep when he heard tapping on his bedroom window. (Y/n) opened his sticky eyes, barely open enough to see a blurry red object tapping against the glass frame. Eventually, the object halted, gave up, and swooped down and out of sight. He shrugged.

Just as he closed his eyes, more pelting came from the window, this time louder and heavier. (Y/n) snapped his eyes open, flinging himself out of bed, and getting ready to activate his quirk.

He visibly relaxed when he saw the huge red wings tapping outside the window, with a certain hero crouching down, looking at him sheepishly and trying to pick open the window lock. The man waved with an embarrassed smile, his feathers following suit.

“Keigo Takami. What the fuck are you doing in my house.”

The man, Keigo Takami, chuckled awkwardly while (y/n) undid the clasps on his window. He stepped back, allowing him to worm his way in through the small window.

Keigo paused, half way squeezed in with his wings stuck in the cramped window frame. He was stuck. “Y...you need to buy a bigger window-“

“Are you dumb?” (Y/n) chuckled, the sight of Pro Hero Hawks, man who could pull absolute pussy, bent over his bedroom window, stuck with his wings awkwardly fluttering in place. “Just, I don’t know, send your feathers off until they’re small enough to fit you in.”

Keigo had a wave of realization. This man had no braincells whatsoever. “...oh, haha, you’re so smart~”

One by one, feathers jutted out from his back, each floating either inside (Y/n’s) room or outside the window. Once all of them were off, and his back were relatively empty, he tumbled ever-so-gracefully inside the room. He stood up, his wings rebuilding themselves in seconds, and did an awful curtsy.

“Thank you, thank you, I’ll be here all day to take care of my sick patrol partner who do happens to be my boyfriend,”

“Speaking of patrol -what happened to patrol? A-and the dude you should be patrolling with? You should be out by n-“

A sharp, piercing pain shot through (Y/n’s) head. Now that the adrenaline from Hawks pounding on his window was subsiding, he seemed to remember how much his head was hurting.

He fumbled down, catching himself on the foot of his bed while Keigo lurched forward. “You good?” He mumbled, taking off his black wool glove.

He rested the back of his palm on (Y/n’s) forehead, before signing uncontently and replacing his hand with his lips. Even if he was burning up, (Y/n) froze.

After a while, Keigo drew his head back. “You’re burning up...”

Silence. Hawks awkwardly chuckled and played it off by running his hand through his hair.

“Lips are more sensitive than hands are-so I was just...you need to get to bed!” Keigo quickly stood up, gently ushering the sick hero to his bed. Pulling up the thick-set covers, Keigo hazily tosses his jacket to the corner and discarded his other glove.

“Try and get some rest. Did that dude’s quirk from yesterday do this?” He got a nod in response. “Alright. I’m gonna go change and get you some shit.”

With that and a warm smile, Keigo disappeared through the bedroom door. (Y/n) followed him with his eyes, right before he was out of sight, then let his eyes droop close.

———

“Pssst.”

A finger poked at (Y/n’s) cheek. He grumbled, furrowing his brows and keeping his eyes screwed shut. He heard a sigh from somewhere above him.

Something feathery tickled him from underneath his nose. He scrunched his nose up, expecting the odd feeling to go away, before feeling a sneeze build up. The watery feeling course through his nose before his head shot up every-so-slightly to let out a weak “Achoo!”

Keigo snickered. (Y/n) finally opened his eyes. Keigo was sitting beside him, now in casual clothes, holding a convince store bag and a red feather. The feather flew out of his hand and stuck itself on his back.

“Sorry I was out for so long. You didn’t have jack shit in your house, so I bought some medicine and takeout since I know you won’t eat soup and I can’t cook.”

It was true. The only thing Pro Hero Hawks is allowed to do is heat up a hotdog, and even then he might break the microwave. And (Y/n) won’t eat soup he made if his life depended on it. If he can’t even turn on the stove, what makes you think that he’d drink a whole bowl of soup made by him and not die?

“Whad’ja get?” (Y/n’s) voice came out more gravely and deep than he expected. Under different circumstances, that would’ve been kinda hot. Keigo pulled out things one by one from the bag.

“Ok so, I got painkillers, a cooling pack, a heating pad just in case your stomach starts hurting, a thermometer, and I found these cool matching red bird keychains and I bought them on impulse. One for you and one for me~ I also bought 2 beef bowls”

Keigo layed all the items down either on the bed or on the table beside it, holding up the keychains last. Shaking them around a bit, turns out there was a small bell inside both of them. (Y/n) tried, and failed, to hide his growing smile.

Keigo placed the cooling pack on (Y/n’s) previously burning forehead. The sudden coldness forced an involuntary groan from the bed sick male. He chuckled.

“Sorry. Deal with that for awhile and I’ll feed you~” Hawks saddled up in the spot next to him, holding the two plastic bowls and worming his way underneath the covers. He placed the food down on his lap and switched on the tv.

They sat in silence, the only thing being the sounds of the tv filling the room with the occasional reaction or snicker from the two. Keigo alternated between shoveling a forkful of rice and beef into his mouth, then feeding his boyfriend and carefully making sure none spilled onto his bed. The news reporter droned on onscreen, their voice being tuned out by the two hero’s.

“By the way, Keigo,” (Y/n) started, once he swallowed his food. Keigo gave a hum of acknowledgment, holding up a finger to (y/n), then to his mouth until he finished chewing. Thickly swallowing, Keigo hummed again.

“You were supposed to patrol today. With one of my sidekicks. What happened to that?”

Keigo looked at (Y/n), before looking back at the tv so causally. For a while he said nothing, until he opened his mouth.

“I ditched.”

(Y/n) made a sputtering noise. His shock turned into a long string of hacks and coughs, which Keigo waited ever-so-patiently for him to calm down from. “You ditched?! Keigo, you’re the no. 2 hero! You can’t be caught ditching!”

“Relaaaaax,” Keigo leaned farther into the bed cushions. “I told my agency and your stupid sidekick man that I was gonna check on you. It was a valid excuse.”

“Still!” (Y/n) rubbed at his temples. Hawks shoveled another forkful of food into his mouth. “You’re sitting here watching tv with me instead of working!”

“I needed a break. Plus,” Keigo held up his unfinished bowl of food defensively.

“I can’t believe you.”

“I love you too~”

(Y/n) sighed.

“I hope you get sick.” Hawks chuckled, saying something about being immune to all sicknesses.

Needless to say, (y/n) was patrolling with one of Keigos sidekicks the next day.

——————

[neitherlightnordark]

28 with whoever you prefer~

"Mmkay. School assignments." Crack. "There’s a few special varieties. Like, one is... Ms. Alphys gives you a worksheet you have to fill out about stuff you learned during the day in class."

Plop. "'Fill out’'..?"

The countertop is cold, and smooth, and there’s ridges between each of the linoleum squares. Susie keeps rubbing her claws against them, distracting herself from cracking the eggs.

"There's questions, and you gotta answer them."

"Oh!"

All the broken eggshells go into a red plastic cup that has ‘COMPOST ]: )’ written on it in black marker.

"It’s memorization, then. That sounds fun!"

"I guess if you can pay attention for more than nine minutes, it’s okay."

Susie runs the tap, flicking pieces of eggshell and yolk droplets off her claws.

"Well, I’ll do my best..." Ralsei’s whisk whirls around, spattering egg yolk about. "...Oh, Susie! Did I-?”

"No, you’re doing great, dude!!”

Some pepper flies up their noses as Susie dumps it into the bowl. They both sneeze away from their food, and laugh.

"...Why’re you so obsessed with school, anyway?" Susie turns the stove’s dial up to HIGH and watches it burn bright blue. "Did some books fall in the dark world or something when you were little?"

More bright yellow yolk flies about. "Books?"

The pan sizzles as Susie hesitantly drizzles vegetable oil inside. It’s all pooling in one part of the pan, like it’s sticky. "'Cause you’ve never actually been to school."

"Oh, no-" Ralsei makes sure to turn the stove down a little more, and then carefully spoons whisked egg yolk inside the pan. "I’ve just always thought it was important."

"You didn’t even know what a pencil was."

The egg yolk is starting to boil, grains of pepper riding on the surface of each bubble before it pops.

Ralsei turns the stove down further. "Are pencils always part of school, Susie?"

"That’s not the point."

"What about assignments, Susie?"

"You’ve got no idea how cool school would be without assignments."

The distinct smell of cooking eggs starts to fill the kitchen. The oil sizzles.

The two of them relax, and watch the yolk change in color.

Ralsei leans against Susie’s shoulder, soft. Susie does not protest.

"The idea of school makes... sense to me," Ralsei explains, carefully. "I always thought... I could be doing a little more than waiting. Especially since it would take such a long time."

Susie looks at him.

"So I taught myself how to use my loom, and practiced magic... and practiced talking... In the end, it all made me more useful."

A bubble rising on the egg yolk pops.

"..." Susie huffs a breath. "Lots of us would fail school if we all measured ourselves by your standards, nerd."

Ralsei sits criss-cross-applesauce on the carpet, and Susie takes over the couch, bouncing up and down on it a few times before settling. The air is holding its breath. It’s morning; the sun is still down.

Susie takes a bite of her scrambled eggs, and sneezes with a hint of fire.

"You wanna watch something?" she asks Ralsei, balancing her fork between her teeth.

"Oh, yes please!" Ralsei licks rice out from between his paws.

The TV flicks on, bright enough to make them tear up a little.

Susie hops from network to network. "...Why do monster shows always SUCK?"

"Really? All of them?"

The screen pauses on a teleserye that keeps dramatically zooming in on the main characters’ faces. She huffs and flicks away from it. "I’ve never found a good one. And I LIVE with goddamn monsters-"

She pauses again, this time on one of those filler do-it-at-home recipe videos they put between newscasts. They’re making scrambled eggs with pepper sprinkled on it.

"I mean," she says. "Not like I’m NOT a goddamn monster."

"Of course you are, Susie."

The two of them sit there, and watch someone else make eggs. Susie rests her feet on Ralsei's shoulders. Ralsei doesn't protest.

The sun rises.

[kjmsupremacist]

the places you have come to fear the most (jeno/jaemin)

Jeno and Jaemin entered SM in the same year; they sat next to each other in classes all through school. Sometimes, they fell asleep holding hands. They’re very different people, but they fit together well. They know everything about each other–their favorite foods, their dreams, their fears. As they grew a little older, they came to realize they were in love. Jeno sometimes finds himself struggling to balance his private and public lives as he grapples with the depth and, at some times, dark nature of his love for Jaemin.

Part 3   |  Part 1   Part 2   Part 4   Part 5   Masterlist

Characters: Jeno, Jaemin, the rest of nct intermittently

Genre: angst, best friends to lovers, hurt/comfort

Pairings: Jeno/Jaemin, mentions of Johnten and Dotae

Warnings: self-doubt, body horror/gore/blood (all hypothetical, but discussed VERY graphically)

Rating: Explicit

Length: 4.5k

you can listen to the official playlist here!

taglist: @weishendery

 “I was always hungry for love. Just once, I wanted to know what it was like to get my fill of it—to be fed so much love I couldn’t take any more. Just once.”

 —Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood    

 “I saw all the mirrors on earth, and none of them reflected me.”

 —Jorge Luis Borges, The Aleph and Other Stories  

 when I imagine myself

      I am always leaving

 I couldn’t draw my own face if god asked

 —Andrés Cerpa, The Vault, from "Three Poems"

--

 The thing is, when they didn't have schedules, Jeno started to feel like he wasn't himself. He wasn't really sure what he meant—just that when he was alone in a room with himself, he got a little lost, and he'd kind of scrape at his insides like you do at the bottom of a bowl of not-enough-rice, and come up with very little to show for all the scratching. There was something missing there inside of him, he was sure of it. It only really came through in times like these, so he couldn't even enjoy the small break that he had.

 At least the weather was warm, and it wasn't as rainy. Jeno dragged Jaemin out on bike rides as often as possible, early in the morning before too many people were out and they might be recognized. Jaemin complained the whole way, but Jeno knew he was secretly grateful he had a workout buddy. Their bodies didn't maintain themselves, after all. During small moments of those mornings, Jeno swore he was himself again—with his breath burning in his throat and his eyes trained only on the path ahead of him, where he didn't have to feel the roiling of his heart nor the whistling of wind through the hole in his soul.

 Jaemin was a pretty good distraction, too. Jeno sprawled himself across Jaemin's bed, watching him edit photos, his hair still wet from his shower, his shoulders hunched a little so Jeno could see his shoulder blades through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. The air-con was humming gently in the background, and the breeze from it ruffled Jaemin's hair. He was content in watching him, though the longer he watched, the louder a buzzing sort of feeling became in his head. He wanted to touch him—he always wanted to touch him—but even if the feeling started small, it always grew and grew until it was like a monster. When he said it tore holes in him, he meant it. In his head, his wanting was some kind of deep-sea predator, adapted to see in the dark, evolved to have a mouth bigger than the rest of its body, a jaw so wide that it was nearly turned inside out, with teeth like giant needles. Sometimes, he felt like he'd spent his whole life protecting other people from its bite—Jaemin most of all. Jaemin, the monster wanted more than anything, wanted to sink its fangs all the way though his shoulders and keep him there, secure at Jeno's side. It wasn't that Jeno was jealous, or afraid that Jaemin would leave him for someone else, it's just that he wanted to pin him down and pull him open and see everywhere, even his dark, sticky, secret places, so that Jaemin could never deny that Jeno knew him, that he loved him.

 Can I stop being strange for longer than a couple of minutes at a time? Jeno chastised himself harshly, shaking his head. But even as he tried to reel himself back in, scolding himself as he did, he couldn't deny that the idea of being wrist-deep in Jaemin's chest was attractive somehow, almost comforting.

 Jaemin half-turned his head, eyes still on the computer screen. “I can feel you thinking about something,” he said. It wasn't a question or an accusation; it was mostly a prompt framed as an observation.

 Jeno blinked guiltily. “It's nothing,” he denied as he scrambled to find a convincing but much more acceptable topic to explain.

 “Uh-huh.” Jaemin turned around in his chair, giving him an out-with-it sort of look. “You've been odd these last few days. What's going on?”

 Jeno sighed, picking at a loose thread on his shorts. “I don't know,” he said. “This time off has just made me wonder, you know, how much of me is real. Like... I've forgotten which parts of me are... fabricated for the camera and which parts of me are actually mine.” He looked back over at Jaemin, kind of hoping he'd say something, but Jaemin never spared him in conversations like these. He just gazed back steadily, patiently waiting for Jeno to offer a true gem of vulnerability for him to pluck up and store away with all the others.

 “Like…” Jeno shook his head, thinking for a moment before continuing. “Yeah, this privacy is nice, right? Sometimes I think it would be nice to be, like, a regular person. I wonder what I'd be like without all of it—but I'm really worried that if I were to actually look into myself like that, like..." Even though this is nowhere near as devastating a confession as if Jeno had been truthful, it's still painful and scary to say. "I'd... I'd find nothing there.”

 “What do you mean?” Jaemin asked softly.

 “I think…” Jeno swallowed. “I think I'm no one without the fame. I'm nobody without this persona that I've created. I'm nothing.”

 Jaemin stared for a moment, and then pushed away from his desk and hopped up onto the bed. Jeno rolled onto his back as Jaemin crawled up next to him, closing his eyes briefly when Jaemin dipped his head to kiss his forehead. “You're not nothing,” he said, settling beside him, stretched out on the mattress and propped up on one elbow. With his other hand, he cupped Jeno's cheek. “I fell in love with you before you were this famous. The boy I fell in love with—the boy I love now—he's not nothing, okay?”

 Jeno sighed, turning his head a little so he could kiss Jaemin's palm. “Okay,” he murmured, but that hollow place inside him still yawned wide. With a shudder, he realized that while he fantasized about being able to exist within Jaemin's body, he wanted just as much to drag Jaemin inside of him, into where there was that huge hole in his chest. It was like he wanted to use Jaemin to plug it up, and that was the most awful thing in the world, because Jeno knew how terrible it was inside of him, and he didn't know what to do with any of it. All his wanting was eating him alive, and he didn't know what to do.

 Jaemin stroked his cheek with the pad of his thumb, watching closely. “You look sad,” he whispered.

 “I just,” Jeno said, and then stopped. How could he explain any of it? The helpless tumult, the emptiness that festered inside, and the enormity and hungry nature of his want and his love—there wasn't space on this bed, in this room, maybe even in the whole world, for Jeno to ever lay it all out. “I've been in the public eye for so long, and I—I'm just so tired.”

 Jaemin leaned in to kiss his jaw. “You can be whatever you want to be when you're alone with me,” he said. “Whatever it is, it'll still be you. So I'll still love you.”

 The creature that made up Jeno's want was trying to crawl up his throat, and Jeno was afraid that if he opened his mouth, it would lunge out and ensnare Jaemin before he could stop it. “What if,” he said slowly, tightly. “What if that person isn't a good person?”

 Jaemin shook his head, his hair tickling Jeno's skin. “That's not possible.”

 But what if it is? Jeno thought as he brought a hand up to stroke Jaemin's cheek. What if the real me is somebody you don't recognize? Sometimes I catch my reflection out of the corner of my eye and I find myself shocked. He sighed quietly, soothed by Jaemin's lips and fingers on his skin, even in his guilt.

 They sat for a while in the hum of the air-con, in the weight of Jeno's confessions and Jaemin's promises. It reminded Jeno of when they were young, and how they'd sit in bed and slowly chip away at their daytime exteriors until all that was left was the soft, tender insides that they only let each other see. It still wasn't the real Jeno; it wasn't all of him, but it was closer than anybody else had gotten, so at least it was something.

 “Still think you're awful?” Jaemin asked after a while, tone tinged with humor.

 “Mm,” Jeno replied noncommittally.

 “Can we try something?” Jaemin asked. “I want to try to show you how I see you.”

 “Okay,” Jeno agreed.

 Jaemin peeled himself up off of Jeno’s chest, off the mattress, and tugged on one of Jeno’s wrists. “C’mon, up.”

 “Where are we going?” Jeno asked.

 “Just to the mirror,” Jaemin replied. “Is that okay?”

 “Oh,” Jeno said, suppressing a shiver. They rarely did this—mostly because the floor was uncomfortable—but Jeno remembered keenly the feeling of Jaemin’s grip on his jaw, forcing him to watch. “Yes.”

 “You can say no,” Jaemin reminded him. “I just don’t think I could convince you, so I thought I’d try to show you instead. Like this.”

 Jeno smiled at him. “I don’t want to say no,” he assured him truthfully, watching as Jaemin slipped off the bed and offered him his hand. He took it, letting Jaemin help him to the floor, inhaling sharply at the feeling of the cool hardwood against his bare feet.

 “We’ll get a rug,” Jaemin said, wandering over to the closet and rummaging through a bottom drawer.

 Jeno glanced over his reflection as he waited. It was his face, he decided. His face was much too sweet for a boy like himself.

 “Take your clothes off,” Jaemin said, looking over his shoulder while he laid the rug down.

 Jeno did as he was told, backing up to accommodate Jaemin as he unfurled the rug onto the floor. It was one of the thick, plushy, bathmat kind; Jaemin was trying his best to protect their knees. Jeno threw his clothes onto the bed, avoiding the mirror with his eyes until he was seated on the rug and had his limbs tucked in close to hide the rest of his body. He knew Jaemin was about to make him undo all of that, but it was alright.

 Jaemin appeared behind him in the mirror, now naked, and gave him a soft smile. Jaemin, Jeno could look at all day. The way Jaemin looked was not the same as the image Jeno had of him in his mind—he wanted to find a way for those two things to come into agreement, which was maybe where the fixation on Jaemin’s insides came from—but he was nice to look at nonetheless. Jeno traced the lines of his body in his reflection, familiar and comforting; the lines of his abs, the sharp dip of his collarbone, the points of his hips. The want-monster in Jeno’s stomach opened its jaws wide, and for once, Jeno just let it.

 Jaemin dropped down behind him, resting a hand against Jeno’s spine, leaning in to kiss the nape of his neck. “Relax, my heart,” he murmured. “You’re so tense.”

 “Sorry,” Jeno said reflexively.

 Jaemin only laughed at him. “Move forward,” he said, pushing on Jeno’s back. Jeno slid onto his hands and knees to crawl a few paces towards the mirror, but when he tried to sit back down, Jaemin’s hands stopped him. “No,” Jaemin said, “stay like that.”

 Jeno stayed, watching in the mirror as Jaemin bent over behind him. He shuddered when he felt Jaemin’s lips against his entrance, warm and wet. One of Jaemin’s hands came up to grip his ass; the other reached down to cup his cock. Jeno felt heat rise to his cheeks; he flicked his eyes to the mirror and saw that he was flushed a deep scarlet already. Something about getting rimmed made him shy—part of it was that he usually topped, so he wasn’t so used to being on the receiving end, but most of it was just that it made him feel so open and vulnerable that he couldn’t help but squirm a little. Fingering was one thing, but it was nowhere near as personal.

 Jaemin pressed his tongue flat to Jeno’s hole, squeezing Jeno’s cock gently in his palm. Jeno choked out a surprised moan, and he could feel Jaemin’s lips curl into a self-satisfied smile. He pressed harder, until the tip of his tongue slipped past Jeno’s rim. It wasn’t much of a stretch, but it was a unique sensation—a good one, to be sure, but one that required some getting used to. Goosebumps fanned out across Jeno’s skin, in part a product of his proximity to the air-con, and he sucked his lower lip between his front teeth to try to minimize his shivering.

 It was good enough for Jeno to get lost in, but he didn’t dare so early on. He kept his eyes glued to the mirror even though Jaemin couldn’t see if he was behaving. All he could see of Jaemin was a vague shape behind him, but his mind could fill in the rest. Some odd, disgust-tinged guilt rolled over in his stomach—he’d never been thoroughly convinced that he deserved nice things, much less pleasure like this, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want it. He felt guilty for that, too.

 After a few more quiet minutes filled only with Jeno’s soft panting and the wet sounds of Jaemin kissing lazily over his entrance, Jaemin pulled away, sitting back on his heels. His lips glistened, slick with spit, bright and glossy for just a moment before he wiped his mouth on the back of one of his hands. Jeno was still trembling, even though Jaemin was no longer touching him, half an attempt at recovery, half anticipation.

 “Good?” Jaemin asked unnecessarily, reaching around for the lube.

 “Yes,” Jeno whispered.

 Jaemin lubed up his fingers, swiftly and deftly. He blew on his hands before pressing one finger against Jeno’s entrance so that it wasn’t so cold. Jeno took a deep breath, trying to release some tension so that Jaemin’s finger could sink in with ease.

 He was already a little loose from the rimming, so Jaemin was able to add a second finger almost immediately. He kept his strokes long and slow, changing his angle until Jeno moaned low as he swiped over his prostate. He pushed his fingers all the way in, to the last knuckle, and twisted, giggling happily when Jeno gasped.

 “I thought you were being nice to me,” Jeno said softly.

 “This is as nice as I get,” Jaemin replied, but he went back to opening Jeno up, keeping an even pace as he flexed his fingers slightly against Jeno’s walls. He worked patiently, his fingers practiced; it was like a ritual, almost—they both knew how to do it, knew how to touch each other, where and in what order, to open each other up. Jaemin waited until Jeno was loose before adding a third and then a fourth finger, leaning in to kiss at the taut skin to soothe the pain each time. Nice, like Jeno asked.

 It was good until it made him want more, and Jeno started letting out little impatient sighs. He could feel himself getting messy—if he looked back, he’d probably see a long string of precome leaking from the head of his cock onto the rug beneath him. I’ll clean it, he thought blearily.

 “Think you’re ready?” Jaemin asked.

 “Yes,” Jeno breathed out, relieved. “Yes.”

 “Down on your elbows, please,” Jaemin instructed him, working on slicking up his cock. Jeno dropped to his elbows, resting his forehead on his wrists. “Mm-mm, head up.”

 “Don’t think I can keep my head like that for very long,” Jeno pointed out.

 “I’ll help you,” Jaemin replied simply. He shuffled closer, lining his cock up with Jeno’s entrance, anchoring his hands on Jeno’s hips, and pushed forward.

 It had been a while since Jeno had bottomed—no particular reason, really, it just kind of worked out that way—and it took everything he had      not    to come as soon as Jaemin was fully seated inside him. Jaemin got settled, and then shifted his grip, holding Jeno in place by pushing one hand down in the middle of his back and using the other to hold his hair. He took a thick fistful and yanked Jeno’s head back, tight, so that Jeno was forced to look up at his reflection—helping him, just like he promised.

 Jaemin set an easy pace, rolling his hips fluidly so that the pull on Jeno’s scalp wasn’t too painful. This position was good for a few reasons. First, it made Jeno feel just the right degree of degraded. Jaemin was pressing him into the floor, but there wasn’t the absence of care that would leave Jeno feeling hollow and used. Jaemin was stroking back and forth across his skin with the thumb of the hand on his spine. Second, the angle was perfect—Jaemin could get so deep, and hit his prostate on every thrust. On his own, Jeno always needed something around his cock to be able to come. But with Jaemin fucking him, Jeno had found that it was almost too easy for him to come untouched.

 “Look,” Jaemin said softly as the first tears pricked at Jeno’s eyes. “See, you’re so gorgeous.” Jeno looked over their bodies, colored pink and bright with a sheen of sweat; their hair, his stuck to his forehead, stark black, Jaemin’s a faded blue, messy from where he pushed it up out of the way. He watched the working of his own throat, his jaw hanging open involuntarily. He watched the set of Jaemin’s jaw. “How can any of that be bad?” Jaemin asked.

 Jeno whined softly. “I don’t know,” he said, stuttering over Jaemin’s movements. His head was already cloudy with lust; it was hard to speak. “I only see the things I don’t like, I guess. And it’s nothing I’d want to look at.”

 “My heart,” Jaemin said, sounding wounded on Jeno’s behalf. “Moon to my ocean, Jeno, Jeno, you’re beautiful.”

 Jeno huffed, half breath, half moan. “Perhaps on the outside,” he conceded.

 “On the inside, too,” Jaemin argued.

 Jeno couldn’t suppress a derisive snort. “How do you know that?”

 “Because.” Jaemin met his eyes in the mirror. “I love you.”

 It sent a shock through him. Jeno let his eyes flutter shut for one moment, just to drink in his words, to let the monster of want inside of him gobble them down letter by letter. “I love you, too,” he said, opening his eyes so he could watch Jaemin reply.

 “I know,” Jaemin said, soothing. The look on his face was almost unreadable—there was kindness there, and love, certainly; but under that, something heavy, something hungry, something that Jeno’s want recognized. In this moment, so fast Jeno could barely catch it before it was gone, he swore for just one second that he actually saw both of them.

 But then it was gone, because Jaemin was thrusting harder, and Jeno couldn’t help but close his eyes as arousal surrounded him, muffling his hearing and fogging up his brain. Jeno cried out softly; Jaemin was moaning with each shift of his hips—short, breathy noises that Jeno could barely hear over the rhythmic sound of skin on skin.

 Jeno forced his eyes open again, but only to look at Jaemin. The muscles in his biceps tensed and relaxed, again and again. Jeno was supposed to be the muscular one, but really, Jaemin wasn’t that far behind him. Jeno supposed it had something to do with his proportions; Jeno looked short, while Jaemin appeared taller, even though they were more or less the same height. It was alright, though. Jeno didn’t mind being the only one who had intimate knowledge of Jaemin’s body.

 Jaemin caught him looking, but he only smiled lazily, eyes half-lidded. “You’re not supposed t’ be looking at me,” he admonished.

 “Can’t help it,” Jeno defended, and Jaemin gave a half-shrug in defeat.

 “I suppose I can’t be mad about it,” he said.

 It was moments like these that Jeno cherished as much as he clung to all their little oddities. In moments like these, they were a normal couple. There was no blood in their love, no open wounds, no rotting sacrifices. Their love was pure and clean and just like everybody else’s. It’s not that he wanted that, but it was a fun idea to entertain.

 But then Jaemin’s hips stuttered as he let out a pitchy moan, and the normalcy in Jeno’s head was shattered. He was ravenous again; the noise Jaemin had just made echoed around his skull, repeating and repeating. He wanted to hear it again; he clenched around him and satisfaction spread warm over his skin when Jaemin gave a surprised moan, not quite the same, but similar enough, in response.

 Jaemin gathered himself up, started putting more force behind each thrust. I deserve that, Jeno reasoned to himself, pressing his lips together to hide a smile. A line had appeared between Jaemin’s eyebrows—determination, mostly, Jeno was sure. He wanted to preserve this version of Jaemin in amber—the way Jaemin only looked when he was a few minutes away from an orgasm, sweaty and out of breath and resolute. Jaemin’s eyes flashed to his again in the mirror.

 “Seriously, though,” he panted. “Don’t watch me. You can watch me anytime.”

 “But I—“ Jeno had to stop, or it was all going to come tumbling out of his throat—the blood; the sacrifices; the monster of want, teeth-first—so he clamped his lips shut instead and nodded, shifting his gaze back to his own reflection.

 Jaemin seemed to take it for compliance, murmuring, “Good,” and readjusting his grip on Jeno’s hair. His thrusts had steadily become a little more staccato, and Jeno was pretty sure he was going to walk away with Jaemin’s fingerprints pressed into his skin on his back where his hand is holding him in place. At least it kept him still; at least it was saving his knees from rug burn. At least Jeno wanted Jaemin’s fingerprints there; wanted them everywhere.

 Jeno also wanted Jaemin’s approval, so he kept his eyes to himself, knowing Jaemin was, even in his lust-deteriorated state, watching him carefully. He watched himself blink, slow and dumb, as the head of Jaemin’s cock hit his prostate again and again and again. The goosebumps were long gone; he was hot all over, but especially between his legs. He flexed his toes until they dug into the soft plush of the rug, watching his face contort.

 “Gonna come?” Jaemin’s voice was gravelly.

 “Mm-hm,” Jeno whimpered.

 Jaemin didn’t say anything, just mustered what had to be the last of his strength to pick it up just a notch, so that all Jeno felt was white-hot pleasure and the steady ache of Jaemin’s hand on his back, his fist in his hair. Jeno came with a gasp, stars in his eyes (no, really, he swore he could see it in the mirror), trembling and moaning as he felt some of it hit his stomach when his cock twitched.

 Jaemin gave a satisfied sort of grunt above him. “That’s how I see you. Look.”

 Jeno blinked his eyes open (when did they fall shut?) and saw his sleepy reflection gazing back. He looked sweet, gentle, definitely fucked out. Good. Someone like Jeno couldn’t even dare to hope the person he loved had half as nice of an image of him in his mind, Jeno decided.

 “Want your come,” Jeno slurred.

 “In or on?” Jaemin gritted out, releasing Jeno’s hair in favor of grabbing his hip.

 “In, of course,” Jeno said. He would’ve rolled his eyes if he wasn’t so tired.

 Seconds later, that was exactly what he got—hot and wet and warm. Jeno sighed happily as Jaemin filled him up, huffing out little moans as he slowed to a stop.

 Jeno must have drifted off for just a second, because he was startled back into consciousness by the feeling of lips on his spine. “C’mon,” Jaemin was muttering. “Get up so we can rinse off and get this rug soaking.”

 Jeno climbed to his feet gingerly, padding to the bathroom and starting the water as Jaemin handled the rug, balancing it on the counter next to the sink.

 “Leave it,” Jeno said. “I’ll do it. It’s my come.”

 “It was my idea,” Jaemin pointed out.

 Jeno shook his head at him. “I’ll do it,” he repeated. “Come here.”

 Jaemin gave him a lopsided smile, stepping away from the sink and towards Jeno’s outstretched hand. As soon as he was close enough, Jeno leaned in for a kiss. Jaemin made a surprised noise, but it was happy-surprise. He kissed him back as Jeno guided them into the shower, under the warm streams of water. They were laughing by the time they broke apart.

 “Feel better?” Jaemin whispered as Jeno worked on cleaning himself out.

 “Yes,” Jeno replied honestly. He blinked at him. “Thank you.”

 “Don’t have to thank me,” Jaemin said. “Your happiness is my happiness.” He titled his head, a puzzled veil brushing over his features. “You know that, right?”

 Jeno took a moment to swallow the monster back down. “Yes,” he said, hoarse. “Mine, too.”

 Jaemin nodded. The puzzled look remained.

 Jeno shooed Jaemin away when he tried to help with the rug, scrubbing over the spots so they wouldn’t stain and then leaving it to soak in the sink. He found Jaemin curled up in bed when he re-entered the room.

 “Nap with me,” Jaemin demanded.

 “We have dinner soon,” Jeno reminded him, but he flicked off the lights and crawled in beside him, regardless. “Can’t nap for too long.”

 “Mm,” Jaemin hummed. “I know.”

 He looked Jeno over impassively. Jeno could tell he was thinking about something, but he didn’t dare ask what. He’d say it eventually. While he waited, Jeno regarded Jaemin through his eyelashes. He reached out, resting his hand on his waist, and then letting it trail down to his belly. It was warm there. Jeno wanted to push a little, but he didn’t.

 Jaemin drew a breath. “Sometimes,” he said softly. “You look at me like you wanna say something, and then you don’t.” Guilt and apprehension flash through Jeno’s body, making his stomach swoop low and his heart hammer in his chest. Even the monster in his throat is temporarily mollified. “What’s that look about?”

 Jeno looked at him curiously, trying to hide the panic bells in his head. How was he supposed to say it? There was no way he could say it without scaring Jaemin, without revealing himself too precisely. He couldn’t say anything. If he said it, that would open too many doors, and Jeno didn’t want to know what was behind them. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said faintly.

 Jaemin hummed disbelievingly, but didn’t reply.

[xenteaart]

A Thousand Buzzing Bugs

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Request: Well, hello! Would I like to place an order with Five for 'Umbrella Academy'? Could you do one where Five has a panic attack and the reader calms him down by singing? It is my way of comforting my friends and family.

Note: thank you so much anon for requesting this, I really enjoyed writing it! also my requests are still open so please feel free to drop your suggestions in my inbox or DMs <3

Warnings: mentions of PTSD, descriptions of a panic attack

After successfully stopping the apocalypse and saving the world, you would expect life to get easier. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the case for Five. 

He was so used to living his life on the run, always restless, tense and having some sort of threat following his every step that when it was time to finally stop he simply didn’t know how to. 

As the Hargreeves siblings’ lives were slowly but surely falling into place and giving them a sense of stability and security, Five had absolutely no clue what he was supposed to be doing. So he was stuck with himself in the agonizing and seemingly frozen present, left to deal with the baggage of his traumatic past and the horror of his uncertain future. Naturally, since his brilliant but cluttered mind wasn’t occupied with anything urgent or even remotely important, it was bound to catch up with itself. 

You didn’t have to be a genius to guess Five had PTSD and had to break down sooner or later, so you kept an eye on him. 

Well, you always have done because he had a truly exceptional talent of getting himself into potentially lethal situations, but this time you were properly paying attention. 

It was a rather quiet evening at the Academy, and if it weren’t so completely and utterly empty, you’d probably even dare to call it peaceful. The house didn’t feel very inviting when no one was home, its huge corridors and cold walls only serving as a painful reminder that everyone else had other places to be and things to do. Everyone except you and Five, because neither of you belonged in 2019, both ex-Commission assassins with barely anything but bloody history and hardship to remember. 

You were currently in the kitchen fixing you and Five a dinner while he was absent-mindedly tapping on the table with his fingers, waiting for you to finish. You weren’t the type to get bothered by repetitive sounds easily but Five just wouldn’t stop, his gentle tapping gradually turning into aggressive and loud knocking.

Five’s mind was starting to feel like a pool of thick slime, his thoughts barely moving through the cold sticky texture, getting caught halfway and immobilized instantly like a silly trembling fly in a cobweb. It was merely annoying at first but became truly terrifying in a matter of seconds.

“Are you okay?” you asked as you turned to face him, your gaze filled with irritation and genuine worry all at once. The question clearly snapped him out of his thoughts and he flinched a little, furrowing his eyebrows and curving his lips in a displeased expression.

A thousand bugs were buzzing under Five’s skin in a vicious choir, itching and burning and aching and tingling. His own heartbeat was pulsating in his temples, making every other sound around him muted and dull, only intensifying the crackling static in his ears. Five’s palms were getting clammy.

“Fine.” he replied, his tone sharp but somewhat anxious. You noticed that Five was still fidgeting, rubbing his fingers against each other and picking at the skin around his nails, and it almost looked like he wasn’t even fully aware he was doing it. His breathing became fast and shallow, and you recognized what was happening right away. You were no stranger to panic attacks - you knew one when you saw one.

Five, however, wasn’t at all familiar with the feeling, his first assumption misleading him to believe he was having a heart attack which was a fairly easy mistake to make. He was beginning to feel very light-headed, unable to grasp onto any passing thought and figure out what the hell was happening.

You put your spatula down and quickly washed your hands in the sink. As you approached Five, you rested your hands on his shoulders carefully and then wrapped your arms around him from behind, putting some pressure on his solar plexus with your palms to help ease the anxiety. 

You were watching Five closely, reading his body language to make sure you weren’t making him feel claustrophobic because there was always a thin line when it came to situations of such delicacy. At the end of the day, every person was different and needed different things but what you were doing seemed to be working a little which only proved your theory that Five wasn’t the kind that needed to be left alone. And it made perfect sense considering his flashbacks and anxiety were heavily related to his many years of solitude and hopeless isolation from everything and everyone he ever knew and loved.

“I got you, you’re alright. I got you,” you uttered quitely, your voice perfectly steady and confident, its tone sparkling with care.

Five gave you no reply, closing his eyes shut and squeezing your forearm instead as if it was the only thing that could keep him grounded and sane. The most important thing now was keeping his focus on one thing and preventing his mind from wandering off into the intrusive thoughts and anxiety territory any further. You leaned a little closer to his ear and started humming some random melody, suddenly remembering that low frequency sounds were known to have a deeply calming effect on people. It was a good sensory trick that worked wonders to catch one’s attention and distract them from whatever it was that was making them feel uneasy. You knew that because you used to hum and sing to your own self a lot whenever you were anxious or panicking, which arguably wasn’t as effective as having another human being do the job and hold you close but it helped nonetheless.

As your soft singing continued, you pressed your cheek against Five’s, feeling the little drops of cold sweat on your skin as his slightly wet strands of hair were sticking to your temples. You didn’t mind. 

The time was passing by at a funny and fairly confusing pace, taking away your ability to tell whether it had been 5 or 15 minutes. It didn’t matter either way because your top priority was calming Five down and making him feel safe, and you would keep holding him for as long as he needed.

He was probably going to brush it off later and act like nothing ever happened, a little too proud in nature and a little too puzzled by his own brain to properly address it, let alone saying “thank you”. But after many years of being by Five’s side you knew his heart well enough to see he was thankful even if he never verbally confirmed it.

Five’s heartbeat was starting to return to its normal pace under your palms and you couldn’t help but smile at your little victory, placing a gentle chaste kiss on his forehead and casually saying:

“So... rice or pasta?”

[sugar-petals]

Treats For You (M)

↳ PAIRING: yuzuru hanyu × reader

↳ PLOT: You tend to a nervous Yuzu the night before a skating competition.

↳ WORD COUNT: 9k | one shot | domestic au, smut

↳ WARNINGS ⚠️ pwp, dom/sub, feeding yuzu treats, pegging, some very wet oral (m giving), cum play, oh lord it gets graphic, fingering, crying, mommy kink, yuzu’s crazy back arch, rough sex, masochism, aftercare, some asthma talk

↳ CARO’S NOTE: inspired by this juicy gif. PS: since i usually post for other fandoms — if you’re unfamiliar with yuzu, visit this intro post. 

Just two minutes after you switch off the light, he starts fidgeting. 

Repeatedly, all while messing around with his pillow. Soon enough, the blanket you share becomes all disheveled. 

You turn your head towards the window to check. All as usual. The blinds are perfectly drawn to shut out the moonlight. Meanwhile, the humidifier infuses the air in gentle ten-minute intervals. Not even the heater is bumbling tonight. Yuzuru keeps on rustling beside you, still. Some of his plushies fall off the bed, one after the other.

Of course he can’t sleep. It’s daunting, no precaution ever helps. The blanket couldn’t be any more crumpled up at this point.

„I’m so nervous,“ he finally sits up another minute later, causing the duvet to lift. A little sigh follows.

Eventually, you turn in the sheets yourself, now facing him. Or rather, what you can vaguely make out as his crouching silhouette.

„Hey,“ you mumble from your left side of the bed. „You watched all of the performances from last month.“ You pat Yuzu’s pillow, hoping he would sink down on it again. „At least twice. Or more.“

God knows for how many hours he stretched in front of the TV on his spongy blue yoga mat, reviewing mountains of footage with a furrowed brow worthy of a restaurant critic.

Every jump and every turn, analyzed over and over. Down to the millimeter. Even the costume got its fair share of scorn. Too wide there, this detail on the collar could be different, that part gets in the way while doing spins.

„It’s all— I don’t know what I’m lacking these days.“

The silhouette doesn’t look like it’s headed to lie down again for the time being. You reach toward your bedstand’s squiggly designer lamp. After fumbling about in the dark, you find the bulky switch at its bottom. On goes the light again. Perhaps a bit too bright, both of you squint hard.

„It’s not like you’re dropping to second place anytime soon.“

Given how you thought you could call it a day before Yuzu started to fidget, maybe your voice is not fully resonant yet. It still carries a little unspoken ‚…right?‘ with it. 

As soon as you finish the sentence, you feel how he can pick up on it already. The humidifier dryly comments by puffing out a cloud of lavender steam.

„I don’t really know,“ Yuzu retorts twisting, going into a deep shrug. He is completely sunken now.

„Looks like a simple big hug won’t do, hm.“

Yuzuru ends up nodding. It’s more knowing than admitting. But you don’t like the sense of resignation that comes with it, at all. The problem goes a little deeper than just motivating him with the stats he ironically already knows, times better than you, even.

It’s been going on for the entire day. The last time he made such a grouchy face at his videos was around Christmas. Back then, he couldn’t quite get the jumps right at the start of his routine. But now? His scores are just fine. Not to mention the jumps.

„I didn’t think you were lacking,“ you say. „You just fell once during training.“

And that was because he was fooling around during a break, not in the serious exercises.

„Sorry for bothering you,“ he buries his face in the blanket, beginning to ruffle his hair all over the place. Frustrated Friday-evening-Yuzu always does that, but the energy doesn’t seem to go anywhere this time.

The murmur of his stomach isn’t hard to miss either. You lay your hand on Yuzu’s back.

„Is it because you didn’t eat?“

You wonder what he had for dinner.

Only more guilty stomach growling reaches you as a reply. Figures: He skipped it, and lunch, too. His breakfast was so frugal, you don’t even remember whether he had his milk or not. 

Yuzu was already pacing around in the living room at that point. Recalling the tricky parts of the upcoming choreography, treading his feet into the carpet, humming the steady rhythm of his skating program.

„Maybe I’m turning into a snickers diva,“ a muffled little comment emerges from where his chaotic hair sticks out from the duvet. At this point, his face is all buried there.

„I mean. If you allow me to baby you…“

Three minutes later. You rub your eyes, shift from leg to leg. The kitchen floor is as cold as ever so you regret not putting on socks. Meanwhile, there’s no problem raiding the fridge. 

You could go to the grocery store five times a day and buy everything Yuzu’s mouth waters over — it’d still be stacked to the top. Snacks, veggies, particular sports drinks in weird blue colors, Japanese pickled plums, gyoza left-overs, salad, various fizzy drinks, mostly lemonade.

It’s like that with any food. Out of sight, out of mind. He won’t bother getting up from the yoga mat if he’s fixated on the TV.

After making two distinct picks and checking whether the fridge door closes properly, then bustling at the sink with a towel, you trot back to the bedroom. Equipped. In the meantime, Yuzu has recollected his plushies from the floor, gently aligning them next to his pillow. 

They’re all in their strictly defined place again. You enter just the second after he’s arranged them in the usual half-circle order, centered around his favorite, all-time friendly-eyed Winnie Pooh bear.

„Will you look at that,“ you plant your little kitchen conquests onto the bed, rousing approval noises from Yuzuru who sparkles right at the box and plate you brought along. The grouchy face dissolves, curiosity takes its place. His food reactions will always be the cutest to you.

„Strawberries!“

„From the market. Wasn’t too expensive.“

Freshly doused in the sink, plump and very ripe.

„And rice cakes!“

Truth be told, there couldn’t be a bigger comfort food on his list and you shamelessly exploit the very fact.

„Every competition has a victory meal. Here, fruits first.“

After plopping down on the mattress yourself, you pick up one, then two strawberries. Immediately, Yuzu’s little upturned mouth opens wide as if a tiger baby was yawning. 

He chews more eagerly than you thought. If you pass him pretzel sticks while he reviews things on the TV, he barely eats one or two of them.

„I like these,“ he swallows, prying for the next fruit in your hand already. „Sweet!“

„Tastes best with cake,“ you rearrange your sitting position, making sure to park your cold feet next to Yuzuru’s very warm ones. His toes are readily brushing against yours, Yuzuru perhaps not even noticing they do. He’s too fixated on the little cakes. In all things he does— focus incarnate. He can’t help it.

„Yes, I wanna try!“

You rummage in the packaging you brought along, draw forth a first treat. A second one you set aside on the plate. Tiger baby opens his mouth even wider, in goes the first chunk of the rich delicacy. Lord have mercy on his stomach, it’s 11:15 PM. But what’s normal to him, anyways.

Ten more minutes pass. After the strawberry box is two thirds empty and three juicy rice cakes have embarked on their last journey, Yuzu looks a lot more content than before, even if his bedhead arguably makes him look like a mad scientist. Junior professor Yuzuru Hanyu, escapee from his genius lab that exploded in a blaze of smoke. 

You take it as your task to brush the outlaw strands back into their place with your fingers after pulling out a wet wipe — those with the way too astringent citrus flavor— from your bedstand, cleaning your hands off the rice. It’s not like your hands aren’t sticky on the regular.

To your satisfaction, Yuzu looks like a swaying cat, nestled into his blanket. With no more stomach growling audible, gladly. You put the plate on the bedside table, lean forward to kiss his belly, and shoot him a fracture of an ambiguous gaze.

„So… Fancy getting even more stuffed?“

„Sure! Is it a surprise?“ Yuzu looks around, presumably searching for more food you brought along.

The pure soul.

„Well, we already had dessert.“

„Oh, right! But, what’s the food, then?“

A little pause follows. Yuzuru couldn’t look any more thrilled. You decide to go with it.

„You’re too innocent,“ you lower down your pants by an inch, thumbs demonstratively hooked into the hem. You raise your eyebrows into a question that he cannot miss. „If you want. You might wanna grab your spray first, though.“

Only the last part fully registers in Yuzuru’s expression that finally goes from curious to… sheepish. He caught on.

Asthma spray at 11:30 PM is a cue he’s gotten familiar with over the last four months. Not in a million years did he think he’d ever have to use it late at night. Whatever decision process is rattling through Yuzu’s brain right now, it’s a fast one, though.

„Ha— okay!“

„Alright, Yuzu.“

„Just once second!“

Food round number two, it is. You kick off your pants and underwear but make sure they don’t land any place where plushies are. Yuzu is already busy at the other end of the room, visibly at work with shaky hands, browsing the cupboard with meds next to the window.

Now that he’s double nervous, you curse your idea, but remind yourself of the last late-evening time Yuzu had his head between your legs. ‚I dunno, I was just concentrated‘ are the words that stuck with you after asking him how on earth he kept his breath for what felt like 45 seconds. 

Whatever masochist devil has been driving him, it gave your boyfriend skills you never even knew were possible to have out of absolute nowhere. Not to mention how easily it distracted him from anything else in the world.

Maybe that focus is an effect easy to replicate, you think. Anything that can take his mind off the competition tomorrow is worth trying.

Carefully, you move over to the right side of the bed. Then, recline on Yuzu’s pillow — on his explicit wish two months ago, you meticulously keep that tradition — and feel surrounded by plushies already. 

Back then, Yuzu insisted that he shouldn’t be the only one watching out for you when you’re having sex. And that the pillow just smells really good of your hair afterwards. So there you lay, feeling all kinds of horny. Given that Yuzu is already returning to the bed, swiping his hair off his forehead. Looking very refreshed, letting his breath play. Sexy.

And there it goes already. The I dunno, I was just concentrated gaze. You arrange your legs wide enough for Yuzu to settle in the middle, him still sitting upright. His hands are still shaky when they reach around your outer thigh, but his eyes don’t lie to you in the very least.

„Your breath alright?“

A little nod, but he doesn’t heed the question for any longer. There’s gladly nothing that his lung doctor can’t figure out. You count on that, but asking doesn’t hurt.

Meanwhile, Yuzu’s eager eyes are already drawn downwards. Getting bigger and bigger. The surprise he had anticipated in fact now dances over his face, flighty and polite, but nonetheless apparent to you. He’s smiling, and it looks shy in the light of the bedstand lamp.

„I, ah…“

It’s as if he hasn’t seen you naked before, every time. For whatever reason, Yuzu always reverts to virgin mode with his first glance. You admit it’s flattering and amusing alike, but also — leaves you with Hitchcock level suspense. 

Yuzuru has proven himself to be an expert in summoning a beginner’s zeal, an almost childlikeness. That keeps you on your toes and promises an intensity that routine and pragmatic energy management could never give you.

After letting his eyes linger a little more, his lips become visibly impatient. He’s already licking them. You’d promised food, and he takes it seriously. That Yuzu’s fingers stroke rather weirdly at your thighs does not escape your attention either. They’re practicing.

„Help yourself, touch.“

The stroking ceases. Yuzu doesn’t hesitate to reach down with his left. How he touches you sends a row of tingles down your legs. His fingertips are amazingly dainty and soft. He explores. Then, soon keeps on caressing about, leans his head forward, all still from his seated position. It doesn’t take too long until he goes straight to getting you off with his right hand.

„This is, wow,“ he mumbles to himself, already immersed in rubbing your clit. Going in circles, taking his time. Alternating between index and thumb.

„Yeah. That’s the spot,“ you shift in the pillow, eventually finding a good position to relax. You exhale, focus on his hand.

„So smooth,“ Yuzu traces his joining left hand up and down your labia.

„Maybe someone wants a taste?“

You were right that he would forget practically anything else. The yoga mat worry brow is blown off his face. Substituted by— appetite.

„Not just maybe, actually.“

Spreading your legs a little more is invitation enough to have Yuzuru lower his head onto your pubic bone, tongue already searching for its favorite place. Your fingers gently interlace in his hair as soon as he starts sucking. Keeping his bangs out of his eyes.

How unafraid to bury his face he is you soon get to witness. You can feel the bridge of his nose glide from lip to lip, and the feathery light brush of his lashes at the base of your inner thighs. 

Yuzu’s tongue has always been cheeky, but today, it feels particularly adventurous and slippery. He can’t help but fumble about with his hands simultaneously. Beginner’s zeal, you knew it’d come.

The bucking of your hips comes too naturally to be controlled. Nor does Yuzuru know just how to hold his head back from thrusting. This little shit. Whatever is in those rice cakes, it made him a new level of keen. Soon enough, his tongue has riled you up plenty, and his focused eyes have become entirely monotone. Only preoccupied with one thing and one thing alone. 

Just how much he dedicates his attention has to be a thing for the books. You feel like blowing up and moaning like crazy at this point, but manage to at least puff out. He knows you’re way too close. There’s a little smile you feel in the way he eats you.

„So that mouth gets a cum filling,“ you twist your fingers out of Yuzu’s wild hair. It’s all tangled again. The return of the mad professor. He has all the space in the world to bop his head as much as he wants now. One, two, three plushies fall over and tumble around the mattress. He doesn’t notice.

The warmth between your legs has been growing ceaselessly. Now, ready to brim. With Yuzu’s agile tongue slipping back and forth over your clit in erratic intervals, you feel like losing your mind with every lick. The way his lips excite you gives off the lewdest sucking noises. All wet, and resolute like a chess player not to drop you off that high. 

He keeps his laps consistent, leans in more, and eventually— tips you off the edge with a fast sequence of letting his tongue dip under the hood of your clit. And letting it stay there, all until your legs start twitching. You groan out.

Yuzu gets a big. Fat. Cum filling indeed.

Your breath goes short, you grab his shoulders. Growling, cursing. Trying to ride the wave, but the contractions catch you harder than you thought. You can practically feel how much you ooze out and ruin his face. 

Bratty he is, Yuzuru forms his mouth all kissy and pecks your clit through every throb. Until the shockwaves subside, letting your shaking thighs off the hook eventually.

Too fucking intense. The surge of pleasure keeps on making your mind hazy long after your orgasm is over. To add fuel to the fire, Yuzuru rubs his belly, as if he just had two happy meals for the price of one.

Pulling off, his face is all bright and slobbery in its remaining smile. His lips are cum-glazed, and more than just plain sweat trickles down his nose. Nothing better than a facial right in front of twenty plushies. Who knew Winnie the Pooh himself would ever be eye witness to Yuzu’s sporty head game. 

Friendly bear he is, it doesn’t seem to bother him. From unsuspecting comfort teddy on Yuzu’s lap 23/7 to live-action porn audience. First row, no popcorn though, but HD sound quality and claims to free spit. The guy is living his absolute best life, isn’t he.

„You… growling. That was pretty hot,“ Yuzuru says. His jaw is hanging all loose and most of his speech is slurred. Yuzu looks all satiated. In your mind, you pat yourself on your own shoulder. Boyfriend corruption: almost complete.

„Like being spoiled? I want you to clean that up.“

Yuzu squeaks out giddy in reply. A moment later, he goes back to lean down again, swallowing and licking up cum from your drenched, swollen lips. His slurping noises are indulgent, wet, and desperately slutty. He succeeds in cleaning you up, but keeps on messing up himself even more. Yuzuru delights in rubbing his whole face into your dripping pussy until his eyebrows are sticky, his lids and cheeks are damp, and you feel capable to get up from the pillow.

Despite not being underneath the blanket, you notice that your feet aren’t that cold anymore.

He sits on the bed like a mermaid, huddled close to you. Normally, he would visibly sort his thoughts like that, but now, all he does is blink and nuzzle up against you with his forehead. 

Settling, Yuzuru doesn’t seem to know where to put his hands and you take it as a chance to pepper them with kisses. The back of the hand, the palms, the wrists. It calms you, and it calms him.

You feel entirely drenched, refreshed and relaxed at once. How Yuzuru cuddles against your legs makes your heart warm, and the moment is blissful.

One lavender steam cloud later, you feel like moving again. Maybe there are two restless people in this relationship. The thought of it is funny.

„We could go on a little more,“ eventually, you pat his head. „With something different if you want.“

„Do you still have energy?“ he asks. His breath is somewhat slowing already. It feels hot against your leg.

„More than before, actually.“

He sits up. Looks like you surprised him again. Little does Yuzu know how much he shakes you up.

„Really?“

You nod, twirling at his bangs now.

„I have an idea. So… you remember what’s been waiting in a box for a month.“

You can tell he knows exactly what you mean. No doubt he didn’t take very long to recall it, either. That tells you something.

„Can we use it?“

That answer was fast.

„It’s what I’ve been thinking.“

„We’ve been putting this off but I’m still curious.“

And your guess was correct. It’s definitely been on his mind.

„Yeah, you’re right.“

Promptly, you direct your eyes to the bedroom cupboard to your far left. The one containing various kinds of skating blades in slender packagings, tracksuits in dark colors, fan presents, and mail orders. Among them, a larger jet black box—

That neither Yuzu nor you dared to open given it was a product of a reckless button click at 2 PM.

Admittedly, after Yuzu passed you a way too expensive bottle of sake that he got for his birthday. Since he’s allergic to alcohol, somebody thought she could give it a sure try instead. Pouring $200 into the sink would have been the better option.

Said black box soon sits between the two of you, wide open to reveal the truth of what sake can do.

„Oh man. What have I done.“

That button click comes back to bite you big time.

„This looks, I think, realistic—?“

At least on the surface.

Of course, you drunk fool had to order the ‚sculpted, real-life imitation‘ version. You couldn’t be any more embarrassed. No more alcohol in this flat, that’s for sure. What else to do but take it in stride now that the box is already open, though.

„I uh, think so. At least with the veins.“

„It’s… it is really big.“

At least three times Yuzu’s flaccid size if you don’t hallucinate right now.

„I don’t know how I’m not gonna tear you apart. How many inches are these, 12? My drunk self is too ambitious.“

Maybe you shouldn’t have used that word and said ‚reckless‘ instead. Because ambition surely and habitually triggers a prancing and posing Shia LaBeouf shouting ‚do it!‘ in Yuzuru’s athlete brain. You can see it in his eyes and already regret thinking out loud.

„We can still try.“

„If that’s a good idea or not we will probably see,“ you begin to inspect the contents one by one up close. „I think I bought a weapon.“

„Now I know why they call guns a strap,“ Yuzuru equally peaks over the edge of the box, looking like his future just flashed before his eyes.

„Next time I pass the sake to your coaches or something,“ you end up pulling out the red harness kit that glaringly lays on top of the contents. All looking very adjustable indeed. „That’s what my midnight fantasy seems to look like.“

„Uh—huh!“

Yuzu snakes his hand into the box himself now. Pulling out a transparent, orange-pink 13 oz bottle with a bubbly-looking fluid inside. Gaudy stuff, but a generous amount.

„Mister Lube. My new best friend,“ he says, laying the bottle aside and then pulling off his black PJ shirt. Although he strips quite leisurely, you can tell that Yuzuru is a little tense in his torso. That you will attend to in a minute, you think. But beforehand, you let your eyes roam for something else.

„They probably have something to clean it with in there as well. Let me see.“

You find that even if you might have ordered all this pretty tipsy, the toy set does have its quality. Just before you want to ask Yuzuru to warm up, he visibly ponders, then cleans his pajamas off the bed to make space for a little area.

„If you don’t mind, I stretch my muscles,“ Yuzuru puts aside a couple of plushies, too, but keeps Pooh close, assuming his typical pre-training stances.

He knows himself. That’s good.

„Tell me if you need help for the thigh stretching.“

In the meantime, you ease into the red kit and arrange the box contents on the bed. There seem to be fifteen things going on at once. If this would be public in the slightest, you believe the two of you must look like a bunch of eccentrics to anybody who’d watch you.

Ten minutes later, Yuzuru might just be in Olympic shape, has downed almost half a liter of spring water in one go. You know that he could probably deliver a quintuple jump on the spot if he wanted. The strap-on is all assembled, clean, and you have stored away the practically empty box of sake sinnery.

„I’ll skate cross-eyed and cross-legged tomorrow,“ Yuzu stares right at your crotch, face buried in his palms. Only his eyes peek through the fingers. „Godspeed to my ass.“

You sure as hell won’t disagree. This strap is a threat.

„I don’t know why I had to order supersize out of all possible things. You need a prayer circle after this. Where’s Mister Lube?“

„Here, over here,“ Yuzuru passes over the bottle, shaking it.

„I’ll relax you as good as I can, okay. Before I get arrested for possession of weapons without a license.“

And annihilating Yuzu’s insides with that XXL dick that he sure as hell doesn’t just want halfway in. Lord have mercy. You can only shake your head at yourself for buying this.

„Honestly though. Does it really fit in?“

Yuzu leans his face toward your hip, now on all fours, taking the sight in. He still can’t believe his eyes.

„We’ll see. Let your body decide, not your pride okay,“ you poke the tip of the strap-on into his left cheek. Hoping that it takes away some of the tension, at least. „And you can still tap the mattress.“

„Okay. Tap the mattress.“

He nods quite avidly. Same protocol as always. No spoken safewords, only something that Yuzu can make use of with his reflexes. Speech? Nothing you can both count on as soon as horniness kicks in. 

You tried that for the first two weeks and quickly settled for tapping instead. Especially because Yuzu likes to have fingers in his mouth every so often.

„I mean. You just did like five splits, didn’t you. Warm-ups always help. If your ankle doesn’t fall off?“

That mini workout was more than just impressive, in fact. And still, you eye Yuzuru’s notoriously injured foot. The slim little fella has a long history of recovery behind him.

„The ankle is decent, the usual stuff.“

„I wish we had a smaller toy to start out with,“ you scratch your head. That might be the one thing that’s been missing from the box. „We still have Mister Lube, anyway. Watch this,“ you pick up the orange bottle, flipping the cap open. „It’s actually scented! Worth ruining the bed if you ask me.“

On goes the fluid, you rub it all across the length of the dildo. Must be cherry flavor or something. Yuzuru sure makes big eyes.

„I knew I could count on Mister Lube.“

„Yeah, we use lots. And I’ll be very gentle.“

The cherry scent is gladly much less tacky than the bottle itself, not too artificial-smelling either. You squeeze out a second load and distribute it over the strap-on just to be sure. Yuzuru’s breath goes faster.

„Can I ask something beforehand?“

„Go right ahead.“

„I wanna suck first if you…“

Who knew. The lube probably made his mouth water.

Being honest, you think that it might be a good idea to get this going. Better than blowing his pretty back out right away and making a mistake, even if he is much less tense now.

„I don’t mind, Yuzu. You already have some chapstick on, right? Here.“

You level your hips to line up with his mouth more easily. You can tell that Yuzuru, after some heavy blinking, eventually braces himself. There’s nothing more telling than his tunnel vision plastered all over his face. His eyes, lids heavy, are hypnotized and seem darker. Yuzu’s bedroom gaze is the best in the world.

„Okay, I’ll start.“

A first kittenish lick. A second. A third. Then, brave lips — enclosing the tip. He audibly nips and swallows.

A few more licks, and repeat. Mister Lube seems to taste pretty good. You bless the shady company that manufactures the black box of sin for once. 

You let Yuzu explore, pump his hand around the shaft, lick from all directions he fancies. Compared to his wrist, the dildo doesn’t really fall short in diameter, but with Yuzu’s face up close you are relieved it’s not a complete David versus Goliath match. 

Soon enough, he musters the courage to open his mouth a little wider, cramming a bit more in than just the tip. You can’t deny you’re getting turned on again with the way he slurps and hums around your dick. With the minutes, he becomes bolder, moving his head.

Even if the lube gathers at his chin and seeps down to the bed, he keeps on sucking, now with a first pearl of sweat lingering on his forehead already. You’d never think it’d make him break a sweat. To be fair, he just did fifty jumping jacks in the warm-up.

„Want me to move?“

Two nods. You glide in, let your hips do the work how they want to. You don’t trust your online shopping choices, but your tempo, at least. Yuzuru is making all choked up noises trying to gobble up all the girth he gets, his fingers entangled in your harness. It keeps him in a steady place.

You can work from that, angle a few superficial thrusts into his mouth to get the saliva flowing. The blotch on your bed is already pretty nasty. The slow pace is apt enough to fill Yuzu’s mouth with spit bubbles that begin to foam out bit by bit.

After two more minutes of light back and forth, Yuzuru pulls off to speak.

„Please do it stronger. I don’t mind being hoarse.“

Not a second later, all he does is slurp up a very dripping shaft again. With difficulty jamming it in past the first few inches, but determined, anyway. You didn’t expect anything else.

Yuzu’s lips and eyes are all glossy by now. The portion of lube-infused spit has accumulated at his jaw already, soon to travel down to his throat. 

Stronger, he says. Why not.

„Okay, get ready.“

„M—hm!“

An abrasive jab follows a shallow one. If it wasn’t for the lube, your dick would scrape right down his upper throat. But this way, the first dip goes in with sufficient slip and slide, not leaving Yuzu with too much dick in his neck for long. All your strap-on does is bounce right back.

What you do hear is Yuzu’s gag reflex… claiming its rights. Still understated, but nevertheless there. After three more thrusts, you decide to stay about halfway balls deep, watching Yuzuru squirm, even try to shove in about an inch more by pressing his head forward. His breath is clean and deep through his nose. You put a checkmark on the my-boyfriend-has-asthma list in your mind.

„You look good with a dick in your mouth.“

What is supposedly a ‚thanks‘ ends up as gargling and choking. Yuzuru starts getting wet eyes at this point. Even a little bow of his head is something that doesn’t slip past your attention. Mannered guy, isn’t he. 

That praise makes him do the horniest noises is also something that you make a memo of. Along with seeing how it’s rendering him all aroused. You’ve seen those neck veins and red chin spots come out plenty of times to know.

A couple more thrusts are not a bad option, you decide. Although it seems that Yuzuru had the idea to hollow out his cheeks that very moment. The vacuum first makes your cock plunge in a little too fast than intended, then naturally pulls Yuzu’s head forward once you move your hips back again. 

It’s why the second thrust catches him off guard, flattening his lips and making your dick slide into his throat with air going in. Yuzu ends up choking hopelessly. It doesn’t look like he’s retreating his head in the very least, however.

Instead, you feel his hands grab at your either hip to secure himself in place. A glance from above, slightly angled sideward, shows you just how hard and throbbing Yuzu’s own dick is, tipping against his stomach. 

Once again, you make an impressed-my-dear face that he doesn’t overlook. His cheeks go hollow again and he keeps up the indulgent speed. Increasingly getting rougher and more pain-craving. Messier. Desperate. 

Yuzu opens his mouth wider not to have his teeth get in the way. It’s serious business now. His throat makes the most disgusting, grunting noises. Oh. Shit. Yuzu’s greed and sloppy lips make your body burn up. Soreness is the very least he’s headed for.

„Wow, Yuzu. Wow.“

It’s not something you didn’t know already. This man is without a singular doubt a lunatic. You whisper more praises to him, your hands grabbing hold of his head to sustain the movement rhythmically. 

Yuzu’s gag reflex has proven to only rebel every other thrust so you can pound away, at that time already giving up even the mattress that must be sopping wet to its core with Yuzuru drooling all over it. Too late for a towel altogether but fuck it.

Yuzu takes the choking well. He’s leaking spit all over, surrenders to your hands. Even if he doesn’t manage to deepthroat the entire length of the dick, he manages an awful lot of inches. By now, he’s gotten the hang of not letting too much air in. All while relaxing his muscles. 

Beautiful hums, chokes, little whines. Too bad your phone isn’t close by. Recording this has to be your very next bucket list entry. You’re glad he asked about this.

You go on thrusting for a few more times until you feel your hips going tired. Once his nose starts getting all runny, you naturally slow down even more. Eventually, you help Yuzuru pull his head off. His lips are all puffy.

„B—woah,“ it’s all he can moan and splurt out, and you help him wipe the glob of saliva and snot from his chin with your sleeve. 

Your pajama shirt might be ruined, but not as much as Yuzu’s tonsils. Who knows just how many times you were deep and fast enough to make them throb from all that friction. Seven, eight times? His food for tomorrow can be a light soup at best. Not even you were as sore after riding and sucking every last drop out of his dick last Monday. 

You’re glad he has the rice cakes going through his system right now. Poor onlooker Winnie the Pooh is probably traumatized by now. There’s only so much crazy dicksucking a bear can handle watching. And still, he gazes at the two of you— in good spirits as ever, cheeks big and bright. In a way, he looks like Yuzu in this very moment.

„How you like it?,“ you softly caress his pinkish lips. „I need to know how many stars to leave on the website.“

It takes a few moments until he can form words again. His speech is fast. He’s still staring at the dildo.

„It was in so deep and, and on my tongue. The dick veins, I could feel them. They were like, like, it was massaging my lips. And I almost thought I could swallow it.“

You raise your brows. Lord knows how deep your cock was inside his brain, but he still picks these things up.

„Attention to detail. Nice.“

Maybe 4.5 stars are a fair deal. At least for throat fucking. The rest — remains to be seen.

„Did I do well?“

His eyes widen. The question is genuine. It’s not something you’d think he would ask. Whenever he trained, he would always rely on his own judgment.

„Ask yourself first, you were the one feeling it.“

That’s not the answer he expected, and he ends up getting red cheeks.

„I liked it,“ he stammers. „Was really hot.“

„It’s what I saw, too. Good job, babe.“

He’s blushing even more now.

„Ah— I think I tried my best.“

You smile and cup his slobbery face. So you’ve taken his throat virginity in the most spit-heavy way possible. He looks cuter than ever.

„Listen. You’re a champ. If I could, I would cum deep inside of you.“

„I think, that would be romantic,“ his wet lips break into an upbeat smile. Yuzu’s eyes get all crinkly.

„You bet.“

A big doting kiss for Yuzu’s forehead is the only thing your brain can conjure up at this point, so you briefly lean down to do it. Maybe Shia LaBeouf is not just exclusively at home in Yuzu’s imagination. 

What you have to admit is that Yuzu’s overflowing athlete’s spirit has easily taken over your hips. You didn’t think you could move properly for that long. Maybe you still have some energy reservoirs left.

„And, and now?“

„I can stuff you with more dick. Up to you. Mister Lube didn’t run out yet. And if Pooh still likes watching.“

By instinct, Yuzuru’s hands snake behind his back to grip his ass, stroking what he knows is your delightful next target. You can tell by his eyes that there are a thousand scenarios going through his head.

„Pooh likes this… very much. He’s never seen something like that before. I think he is curious.“

It doesn’t take a Sherlock’s mind for you to know that he means— himself.

„I mean. I was surprised. If that monster fits into your little throat,“ you add, „anything is possible.“

That’s the final straw.

„I’ll do it,“ he says, moments later on all fours, face lowered and then rested sidewards on the bed, spreading his ass cheeks. Decision making when it comes to strap stuff is Yuzu’s forte, you jot that down in your invisible sex life journal. Not one bit of hesitation. By the looks of it, a very twitching entrance is waiting for you.

Testing period is over.

„Alright. I got something to drive home.“

Now that you think of it. If his ass is already only half as naughty as his mouth, you’ll need the help of a higher power.

„Shit. I think, it relaxes.“

At the expense of your mattress and blanket getting even more greasy with lube, you ease in the tip after massaging it into his sphincter. Yuzu’s ass still has to deal with that new sensation given how his leg muscles are going all bonkers. But indeed he’s grown receptive.

„Comfy like that?“

„B—big…“

„Attention, just a little tweak before I go on. Here.“

You softly press down on his spine with your palm entirely flat, and his back obliges immediately. His arch is leaving you breathless. 

Yuzu’s head and chest are snug and soft against the bed while his ass is far, far up. He smiles seeing you venerate his back, he didn’t miss your reaction in the least. No surprise a third of your cock gets sucked into his ass just moments later. It caught you off guard.

Judging by Yuzu’s little yelp and his eyes rolling back, the way you went right into him has found pleasure. The bedposts creak a little because Yuzuru’s legs are shivering. As is his voice.

„I love it, I lo-, please, my, my ass!“

„Can I move?“

„Yes, please!“

The arch did the trick. You love your boyfriend. What follows is a slowly plunging series of rewards, ten, eleven times, pulling at his gripping asshole until it surrenders into going loose. Yuzuru has almost accommodated a third of the length you’re engraving into his ass. You’ll definitely keep using that brand of lube.

„Here, babe. I got a present for your prostate.“

Yuzu is making your favorite lawless face when you hit the spot, controlling the base of the dildo with two your fingers going around it like a cock ring. He looks as if someone just handed him a trophy too big to carry. From his perineum, a thread of lube comes dripping down with a squelching noise. The poor sheets. It’s another virginity taken.

In the meantime, Yuzu grabs hold of the duvet with unsteady hands. His entire torso is nothing but a shaky mess. So erratic. And sweaty. And docile. And beautiful. You want to award him plenty, your little present from above, the jittery boy underneath you.

Pounding away and making him grit his teeth is worth heading for a mean cramp, you don’t care. Watching how your cock is plowing in and out of him at jerky angles with the absolute lewdest, bubbling noises recompensates for anything. 

Yuzu’s rolling eyes have become spaced out and teary, making him look like a crying saint about to enter the golden gates of heaven. Who knew angels had black hair.

With every stroke, his ass becomes every bit accepting to the point of almost glaring open to let you thrust in. Thank God. You compliment yourself on not falling short of the arguably lofty promise to relax him. Moaning Yuzu’s little ass is swallowing it all. 

By the time, his rectum is going hollow and sticky, welcoming every move of yours by giving you ample right of passage. During some thrusts, you don’t even see his sphincter hold on to the dildo at all. His ass is almost as dilated as his loose mouth itself. Your thrusts are working on their own again at this point. What instinct is propelling you, who knows. 

You love the sight and the happy squeals. You tease him with more speed. Not without effect, your hips lunge and aim deep all the more. You penetrate him far enough to start an excavation for ancient relics next Monday. With the tempo increasing, so does the chesty volume in his voice.

„It’s,“ he cries out, „in my belly! Ah! Ah, shit! Shit...“

You see Yuzu let go of the duvet with his left hand. It promptly darts way down to his abdomen where his fingers grope around.

„I can feel it,“ he whines, „It’s rubbing there, it’s a big bump!“

You sure won’t deprive your own hand from that sensation and reach right down, too. Which means leaning forward— and stuffing your strap even harder into his guts. Yuzu gasps out loud. Both your hands meet fondling about, cupping the sensitive area in search for the imprint of the dildo.

What Yuzu says is not understated. His slender little belly is all bulged out in the bottom quarter. Since he’s so thin, it’s almost scary how much your cock just dents him out and twists around.

„Jesus, Yuzu,“ you let your hand roam next to his, even lightly squeezing the area. It’s what really riles him.

What you thought was the maximum for him to take turns out to be nothing but a mere start. Yuzu is so obsessed to feel the bulge more that he starts bucking his ass onto your cock with the most unbridled voice cracks.

You can’t lie. His moans make your jaw drop. His usually so controlled body on the ice is now wrecking and writhing itself to get more dick. 

A thin line of sweat goes on a pilgrimage down his spine already. He impales himself more, gyrates his hips more, whines out more. You wonder how he keeps it together and doesn’t spritz all his cum over the bed and the floor tiles.

It’s the sheer force of will. Always hungry for the next level. You can’t help but admire how enduring he is. And that’s just the first time.

Yuzu’s feet have become agitated on the sheets, responding to every thrust by dangling and swishing around. Yesterday, his right ankle was all stiff and even a bit swollen. Now, it’s moving all over the place. Looks like doggy style is putting all the tension off the ligaments. It’s something else you take deliberate note of.

After five more thrusts and hearing his whimpers getting all drawn-out, eventually, you retreat for a break, letting your cock rest on his left ass cheek. Yuzu inhales, gathering himself. He looks at you with big, glazed bambi eyes. Maybe even a bit incredulous.

„Am I, am I gaping?“

You don’t have to check twice to know.

„All lose. If you knew how far I can see inside of you. Hole new world.“

„Y/N!“

He can’t hold eye contact now.

„Naughty, huh. But I like what I see.“

Goddamn great ass. You firmly smack Yuzu squarely across his right butt cheek. He twitches, clenches, bites his lips more. They tremble.

„Ah! You tease!“

„Want me to put it in again?“

Wild nodding. Looks like Yuzu’s usual voracity on the ice does an easy, albeit not entirely seamless transfer to bed, too. He still ogles what is about to stretch him out again with due respect. He still can’t fathom something this massive was inside of him, you can tell.

Once you start moving again, you notice his feet and thigh muscles violently jerking. His prostate has gotten all sensitive. Probably all spongy and large by now.

You decide to angle yourself differently and take a deep breath. Impossible to draw this out any longer. From the vicinity of Yuzu’s pillow, you grasp the Winnie Pooh plush toy and maneuver it into his awaiting embrace. He holds it tight in an instant.

With impatient hands, you fumble around the bed for the lube bottle until you find it next to his right foot. Two, three, four generous squeezes onto his asshole, not very accurate at all. Several fine, oily traces end up trickling down his inner thighs. You don’t even bother closing the bottle properly anymore. Too much adrenaline.

„Grab those sheets and Pooh, Yuzu, grab hard.“

„I got it!“

„Time I fuck you up. If you’re ready?“

„Yes, make me cum, make me cum! Please break my ass,“ he’s whimpering. So badly. „I want it! I want it all inside.“

Mister Lube has a last job to handle.

Yuzu has crammed three fingers into his mouth once you get a hold of his hair and deliver the last hard movements. He takes the blows all babbling and sucking himself off. How his ass is not completely falling apart by now is a miracle of nature. Or maybe, just the blessing of his daily training.

The room is heavy with the scent of sweat and cherries. He’s loosened his core so much that sliding in is not a question of you avoiding a cramp anymore, but technique. You feel focused to zero in and not miss the sweet, tender spot. It makes him mewl the first time you push your dick tip right into it. 

The second time, his eyes get big and fluttering.

„Please. Please, hurt me,“ he salivates, then eventually, grabs his plush harder. „Hurt me bad. I’m really begging you.“

Fast to oblige, you claw your hands around his waist and pull his body backwards. The ten nails digging into him are only the last needed set-up. The last jab comes in crisp, landing a severe and punctuated shock. Yuzu’s ass smacks up hard at your loins. The pain quickly snakes right up his spine and leaves his face contorted.

„Oh fuck…!“

Small, shaking Yuzu cums like fifty fireworks going off at once. Not even releasing his screams into the duvet really helps to mute out the heaviness of the first waves. You keep your cock right in place and let it buffer into his prostate at will. 

Yuzu’s legs kick and tangle under you like pasta in boiling water. He cries and groans and curses, and cries out even more. You can see his entire back muscles at work now, going like clockwork. His moans each sound so ecstatic, it registers as a different language to you. He spirals far into his orgasm, sobbing, and it looks beautiful.

„Amazing, Yuzu.“

His semen lands all over his sternum and the sheets, shooting out in several bursts, one more pumping than the other. It’s almost as if all that strawberry juice converted nicely into a blotchy, white fluid. 

His dick is still tensing up completely sensitive. Releasing cum, up until his legs stop going all over the place. Yuzu doesn’t let the sperm cool for twenty seconds that he already reaches down to pick it up, jerking his cock a last dozen times, only to bring to his mouth what his fingers collected. He sucks up all of it.

„Delicious, baby?“

„M—hm!“

„So nicely milked.“

His relished expression. You imagine that this must have been how the gods first tasted nectar.

While he licks away, Yuzu goes limp head to toe with you carefully pulling out your dick. Inch by inch. Not pulling. Only gliding.

Once you’ve removed the tip, he collapses into a sniffing, giggly puddle of serotonin. Crying, even when you lend him both your hands to lay his face into.

He’s so gorgeous. 

Breathing hard, sweaty, drooling and messed up. His body is so steamy and loose, splayed out all the way before you. His entrance has turned all pink so beautifully. Hot. As. Fuck.

Most psychologists would envy you for being able to gaze this far into Yuzuru Hanyu’s innermost clenching being. How his ass is going to close until tomorrow’s competition, you don’t know. 

Time to pray he won’t digest these savory cakes too fast. Then again, he didn’t eat properly at all. His body is probably soaking up all the fruit and rice in their entirety. 

You pat his lower back gently, making sure to lay him down into a sleeping position already. Pooh is right by his side. Yuzu’s legs are still so dangly.

He’s really let go completely. You’ve not fucked his ass, but his soul.

You want to thank him for trusting you so much. Beside the shady black box manufacturer. 

The bed is a glorious mess.

Removing the strap-on harness makes you feel just how loosened your own limbs have become, too. Come to think of it, this might be your new heavy-duty workout. None of your friends know you do this kind of cardio involving the best ass in the whole city as your personal trainer.

Yuzu’s butt has turned you into a drenched, wobbly homo sapiens that will probably look in the mirror by tomorrow and proclaim herself a bodybuilder from those sheer muscle burn gains. 

When the two of you show up at the rink tomorrow, you both need hunky guys carrying you in by the armpits or something. 

And the whole world will wonder how Yuzu’s wonky ankle magically recovered overnight but he can’t sit.

Changing the duvet at quarter past twelve with an unmovable Yuzu on top of it seems like a thing of the impossible. It’s soiled, it’s sweaty, it would probably make it to the first page if a reporter ever got hold of it. 

But you take it pragmatically and opt for sleeping on Yuzu’s cleaner side of the bed intertwined. It’s surprisingly dry there. Big laundry day tomorrow, anyway.

The only thing you manage to do is reach for the window to open and to grab a glass of water from the bedstand to share. He’s chugging the remaining half down in one go. His hands? Oh wonder.

More than steady.

He calmed completely. After he puts down the glass, you scoot closer to him.

„Your foot — better?“

„Oh? I didn’t even think about it.“

He wriggles his left leg back and forth underneath the blanket, then concludes with a surprised face:

„It’s turning pretty well? I think you hit a nerve. Maybe you should split me in half more often.“

He shrugs. Yuzu’s serious face while saying that so dryly makes you laugh.

„Looks like it,“ you draw out the open lube bottle from beside you, finally closing the lid. „Do you… need a towel?“

„I just need you. I have to be disgusting for once.“

„I’ll scrape that all off tomorrow before we leave. Hot shower, five tons of shampoo. I’ll be breaking out the stuff you clean your skates with if I have to.“

That makes Yuzu chuckle. In fact, he beams a little.

„Sounds like something to look forward to.“

„I hope you can walk, anyway. Is it painful?“

Your biggest sorrow at this point. Taking his mind off was easy, but now he’s got boneless legs. Your conscience nags you for dicking him down out of all possible things.

„You have your weapon license now. I gotta admit… the last one…“

…was ass destruction 3.0, you complete his sentence in your mind. It’s nothing a normal human being could have stomached. „I’ll manage, though. I still feel my legs.“

„God, how does he do it.“

A smug „He’s Yuzuru Hanyu, that’s how, aw yeah!“  is what you imagine God’s answer to sound like. But instead, all you get is a little smile. Very well, from the little God in your bed.

„Pooh did this. When I squeezed him, I knew I could take it.“

He reaches to the middle of the bed. Five consecutive head pats for the bear plushie and Yuzu looks content already.

„Winning medals with just one working ankle is the same as doing it with a demolished ass to you, huh.“

„It’s not demolished, it’s improved and overhauled,“ he smiles. „Never felt any better. It was really good how you did this.“

It’s his strangest sport philosophy yet. But if you know one thing, it’s that Yuzu’s bizarre body hacks have gotten him the podium every time. You can already see him asking for another strap round before your mind’s eye. Before the next competition, at least.

„You honestly blow my mind.“

„And your dick, tomorrow night,“ goes Yuzu’s cheeky winner grin. There it is. Insatiable how you love it. You already feel the need to google ‚hip thrust strengthening exercises’. 

Maybe, if science advances to that point one day, you honestly clone yourself so double your capacity. And so that you can spitroast him. Maybe you order another dildo from the website and pin it to the wall, anyways.

„Must be Mister Lube who did all of this.“

„I want to buy more of it tomorrow. Any other groceries we need, anyway? I’ll be cleaning the floor, too. I hope I’m not too worn-out after skating.“

„We’ll do one thing after the other, alright. There are still rice cakes left for breakfast, those will get you through the day.“

You’ve seen how much of an energy burst the cakes gave him. 

„I really like those,“ he mumbles, then nuzzles into the pillow, sucking in your hair’s scent. Oh, it’s the moment you waited for. „Snickers diva… happy.“

A very cheery, puffy face slowly comes to rest beside you now, hair going in all directions. Infallible and ever-returning: Professor Yuzu’s explosive hairdo. Pooh is all clingy at his chest. A little worn from all the squeezing, but still with an amicable chuckle. You smile from ear to ear. It’s the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen.

You kiss Yuzuru’s little nose and lips until he’s making sleepy sounds. Either this is a late-night mirage created by your very moan-tested ears, or he is actually purring. You make sure the Pooh plush resting at his chest faces him correctly, then clear away the remaining strawberries, shut the window, arrange the blanket, put on your pajamas properly.

The humidifier whirrs in the background while tiger baby does one last big yawn before drifting off. In a matter of two minutes, maybe even less than that. 

Just as you reach toward the bedstand to switch off the light, Yuzu’s hand curls into your shirt from behind. You turn, he is all dozed off. Not one leg fidgeting. However, talking in his sleep with his hand nestled into your PJs.

„Big hug please, Pooh mama.“

© 2017-2020 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved. do not repost.  for entertainment purposes only. all portrayals fictive.

[anythingandeverything1d]

Accidents happen

“Babe?” Harry’s voice called from the front door. He sounded exhausted, and his dragging feet and tired eyes confirmed your suspicions when he entered the kitchen. He smiled when he saw you though, walking in your direction and looking at you head to toe. “You look cute.”

You grinned and nodded at him. You had chosen a new pair of leggings that hugged your body in all of the right places. You also were causally lounging in the bralette that matched. “How was the studio today? And you had an interview right?” you asked while walking around the counter, hugging him tightly as he walked into your open arms. He just shrugged and held you tightly. You smiled, pressed a kiss to lips and separated your bodies. Harry had been updating you with texts throughout the day so you had known it wasn’t the best day of work he’s had, which is why you had planned something special. Harry was eyeing the counter with a slight confusion and you spoke up,“I figured you may need to destress a bit after today so I thought for dinner I would make a taco bar since I know that it’s your favorite and then after we could snuggle in bed and watch a movie?”

Harry smiled and nodded, his lips pressing to your temple. “That sounds lovely.”

“Good. Why don’t you go shower and I’ll finish up here.” Harry nodded, heading upstairs to clean up and you got to work. You figured you would make chicken for the tacos, along with all the fix ins, and your special rice. You had the rice cooking on the stove, lettuce and tomatoes were cut and diced, freshly shredded cheese was sitting in a bowl along with sour cream, your homemade pico de gallo, and guacamole. You had hard shell tacos sitting on a plate, along with corn tortillas, and flour tortillas, making sure he had every option for what he wanted tonight. The last step was cutting the chicken into small cubes. 

You had the knife sitting on the edge of the counter and turned to grab a bowl to place the cubed chicken in, the only problem was that your elbow knocked the knife and it fell towards the ground. Everything seemed to slow. You felt your elbow hit the knife, you turned to watch it drop but didn’t move quite fast enough. The blade fell onto your bare foot, slicing through a piece of skin and allowing blood to spurt out. You just stood there for a minute, processing what was happening, shocked that it had actually landed AND cut your foot. You blinked, watching the blood pool under your foot before springing to action. “Fuck...fuck....fuck...” You grabbed the dish towel hanging on the stove and dropped to the ground, applying as much pressure as you could to stop the bleeding. “HARRY!” you screamed, trying to stop yourself from hyperventilating. You were feeling a little dizzy at the sight of the blood. It was turning the towel a deep red color, your foot still slick in the stickiness of the blood on the floor. “HARRY!” you cried again. “HARRY HELP!” 

Tears were falling down your cheeks when you finally heard his footsteps rushing down the stairs. He came sprinting around the corner, shirtless and in a pair of jogging shorts that hung low on his waist. His body was still wet from the shower and his hair leaving water droplets on the floor and his wet towel in his hand. “Where are you? What’s wro-” Harry’s voice trailed off. He took the scene in, his mouth opening. He looked at the blood pooled around you, tears falling down your cheek, a streak of blood across your cheek from where you had moved your hair back. For a moment time froze. He didn't know what to do or where you were even bleeding from until he noticed the towel on your foot. He snapped into action, he dropped to the floor next to you, trying to calm you in any way possible. He removed the towel you had pressed to your foot and tried inspecting the cut a little more. Blood was still dripping down your foot though, making the mark incredibly difficult to see and focus on. He tossed the blood covered towel to the floor and tightened his wet towel around your foot, wrapping it a few times the best he could. “You’re okay love, it’s okay. Just focus on me okay?” 

Harry was talking fast, way faster than usual which was freaking you out even more. You were still hyperventilating, unable to speak or breathe correctly. Harry’s hands gently guided your chin up, forcing your eyes to focus on him rather than the blood soaking through the towel. “I-I” you stuttered, crying even harder now that Harry was here.

“Shh...it’s okay (y/n) just breathe.” Harry pressed a quick kiss to your nose before jumping up and grabbing his phone. “I’m calling an ambulance...” he dialed 911 and nodded as they answered. “Yeah, this is Harry Styles, my girlfriend (y/n) had an accident in the kitchen. The knife seems to have fallen and cut her foot. Yeah, there’s quite a bit of uhm blood. She is still conscious but she’s been hyperventilating for a few minutes. Yeah, we have the foot wrapped in a towel but it’s not doing too much...okay yes that’s great thank you. Yeah, the door is unlocked and we are in the kitchen which is down the hall to the left. I’ll be waiting. Thank you”  Harry hung up the phone and focused his attention back on you. He tugged your body against his chest and whispered calming words into your ears, trying to settle your breathing a bit. “Just breathe love....in.....and out....in......and out.” 

You could feel your heart beat pounding in your phone which freaked you out even more. Eventually the ambulance arrived and Harry jumped up showing them where you were. The EMT’s unwrapped the foot and and applied a temporary bandage while another took your information and brought the gourney over. “Alright (y/n)...we are just going to lift you up and make sure you get into the ambulance. The pressure of walking could cause you to lose more blood and we want to make sure that doesn't happen. So what we are going to do is lift you on the count of three and carry you onto this gourney here okay?”

You shook your head and looked to Harry who nodded. “It’s okay love...they are going to help...”

“No...” you whined, reaching away from the EMT who was trying to lift you off the floor. 

Harry nodded to him and knelt next to you. “(y/n) we need to get you to the hospital and this man is going to help okay? Just try to breathe its okay...” Harry lifted you carefully into his arms and walked you over to the gourney. He set you gently down and kissed your forehead while holding onto your hand as they wheeled you out. You watched the puddle of blood disappear as they moved you out of the house and into the ambulance. Harry followed suit, sitting next to you and trying to take your mind off of the throbbing in your foot. The EMT placed and oxygen mask on your face and took vitals while the sirens roared and you were transported to the hospital.

You arrived at the hospital tired, in pain, and still crying. Harry never left your side though, which gave you a sense of comfort. The EMT’s left you on a hospital bed for a nurse to attend to, of course that had yet to happen. Harry was calmly rubbing circles into your hand and trying to distract you but your foot ached. “H....” you whined looking up into his green eyes. “It hurts...where’s the nurse?”

“I don’t know....I’m sorry love.” He pressed a kiss to your lips and sighed rubbing his temple. 

You felt bad, you were trying to give him a stress free evening and had done just the opposite. “I’m sorry.” you cried. “I always ruin things.”

“Babe...”

“I was just trying to give you a nice dinner and instead I further exhaust you by dragging you to the ER.”

“(y/n) stop....you didn’t ruin anything. It’s not your fault okay? Things like this happen....”

You were about to respond but luckily a nurse interrupted to give you some pain medications and let you know the doctor would be in shortly. He walked in, a smile on his face. “So, who wasn't wearing shoes in the kitchen?” You raised your hand and he laughed, removing the bandage to look at your foot. “Gotcha good did it? No worries, some stitches and you will be good to go. We are going to wheel you back right now and get you on your way. First thing though, I’m just going to numb your foot that way there’s less trauma to your body okay?”

You nodded and looked at Harry who was pale in the face watching him stick a needle into your foot. “Can you come?” you asked him, your lip between your teeth. 

Harry looked to the doctor for permission who shook his head. “Unfortunately we aren’t able to have anyone come back who isn’t a guardian. It shouldn’t take too long though.”

Harry sighed and pressed a kiss to your lips. “Love you.” he whispered with a grin.

“Love you too..” you held tightly onto his hand but as you were wheeled away, your grip was removed, leaving you to fend for yourself. The process of getting stitches was quick. You didn’t really feel a whole lot but a nurse kept your head from looking down just in case.

 After a few more minutes the doctor looked up with a smile. “6 stitches later and you are all set to go home. For tonight, stay off the foot and try not to get it wet for a few days. We will see you back in a few weeks to check and remove the stitches but other than that you are all set okay?”

“Okay...thanks.” you mumbled with a smile. A nurse pushed you back to the room Harry was in and he jumped up at the sight of you. “6 stitches.”

“6 stitches?” he repeated. “Damn.”

“Keep her off her foot as much as possible for the next day or so and try to avoid getting the stitches wet for at least 48 hours.” The nurse directed it at Harry with a grin who nodded and kissed your forehead. She then got you a wheel chair and Harry wheeled you out to the uber that was waiting. 

Once back home, you hobbled inside, wincing as the pain throbbed through your foot. “You okay” Harry asked immediately at your side.

“It’s just sore...” you mumbled. Harry grinned and picked you up, carrying you bridal style to bed. “Wow...if only we were married and about to head to bed for something other than sleep.” you grinned, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I don’t know....sleep sounds great to me.” Harry laughed, carefully making sure you were settled before climbing into bed after you. You wrapped your arms around his chest and smiled. “Well that was an eventful evening”

“I’m sorry I-”

“Do not say ruined the evening.”

“But Haz...I did. I mean we didn’t even get to eat. And now there’s a huge mess downstairs that will need cleaned....”

“(y/n) all that matters is you are okay. We can have tacos another night. We will clean the kitchen in the morning....I’m just grateful that you are here...you are okay....and the doctors got those stitches in without any problems..” He kissed you softly and grinned. “Nothing else matters. Plus...now I get all the cuddles. That’s really all I’ve been looking forward too all day. They are even more special now though because I’m able to remember the truly important things in life. Like you.”

“But-”

“(y/n)....accidents happen and we deal with them. As long as you relatively unscathed that’s all that I care about. Deal?”

“Deal.” You pressed a kiss to his lips and smiled. Your foot may be in pain, and you may have screwed up dinner, but Harry always has a way of fixing those things and reminding you that what really matters is that when the time comes you support each other. Nothing else is more important than that.

---

A request I received. Enjoy! Has anyone ever had this happen? I feel like its a freak accident thing that is more rare.

xoxo

[typical-simplelove]

Part Two: Dragon Boats (T. Jost)

Part Two to Red Envelopes, Dragon Boats, and Mooncakes; a Tyson Jost fic.

Series Masterlist (please read the small note at the beginning of the Masterlist if you haven’t already)

Pinterest Link

Summary: Tyson and Kayla spend the offseason in St. Albert when the Dragon Boat Festival occurs. The couple spend the day with Tyson’s family following Kayla’s family traditions. 

Author’s Note: Similar author’s note to the first part. You don’t have to read part one to understand part two, just an fyi! Again, I have linked pictures and websites about some of the things that are mentioned here. The Pinterest board linked above also has more photos about the holiday. Anyways, here’s part two! I hope you enjoy it and let me know what you thought!

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Again, no climax, really. However, warnings are scissors, being Chinese, Chinese holidays, eating meat, mentions of death.

Before the Dragon Boat Festival

During the Dragon Boat Festival, Kayla and Tyson would be back in St. Albert for the offseason. Because of this, Kayla would not be able to spend the cultural holiday with her parents. Knowing that Kayla was a bit bummed about this, Tyson took it upon himself to try to make this holiday similar to ones in the past. 

Tyson began researching about the holiday. While researching, he learned that people watch or participate in Dragon Boat racing and eat something called Sticky Rice. The symbolism of this holiday is to ward off evil spirits, any lurking diseases, and release any negativity. Tyson had no idea how to celebrate this holiday with Kayla and had no idea how her family celebrated. He decided to just ask Kayla and help her plan. 

“Hey Kayla,” Tyson asks during breakfast a few days before the Dragon Boat Festival. “How do you celebrate the Dragon Boat Festival? I know that’s the next holiday that is coming up that your family celebrates.”

Kayla was shocked that Tyson knew about this. “My family doesn’t do much for this holiday. We don’t watch dragon boat racing but my sister and I always used to make our own mini dragon boats out of construction paper. My mom, sister, and I also used to make sticky rice with my grandfather before he died.”

“What if we did that? What if you, me, Kacey, my mom, and grandparents all made sticky rice? You can teach us! It may not be the holiday you’re used to because you aren’t in Denver with family but you can celebrate with us!”

“If you want, yeah sure! I’ll ask my mom for the recipe and we can make them.”

“Great, I’m excited, babe.”

Despite Tyson only telling Kayla about the sticky rice, he thought he would surprise her with the materials to make dragon boats. Tyson was bouncing in his seat, super excited that he got to spend another holiday with you.

龍舟節 (long zhou jie) - Dragon Boat Festival - June 14, 2021

“Kacey, my mom, and grandparents are set to come at three. Will that be good?” Tyson asks with an amount of energy that no one should have at eight in the morning. 

“Yes, Tyson, don't worry. Everything will be fine.” Kayla responds barely awake.

“Is there anything you need to do to prep before they come?”

“All I need to do is soak the rice. And I marinated the chicken last night so we’re good.”

“Do you need to watch the rice soak?”

Kayla laughs. “No, all I have to do is put the rice in a bowl and then leave it there. I’ll probably do that at 2:45, that way we can be ready to start right away when they arrive.”

“So, then, if I bought something, we can do it before they come?”

“Sure! What is it?”

“I bought materials to make Dragon Boats. I didn’t know what to buy so I went on pinterest and found a site. I asked your sister and she said that the materials they suggested were good. I had to buy green, at least, I thought it was green. I, you know colorblind, so not sure if --”

Tyson is cut off when Kayla kisses him firmly on the lips. “Thank you so much, Tys. You have no idea how much that means to me. Thank you!.”

“Anything for you Kayla. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Tys.”

. . .

After Kayla and Tyson were both mostly awake (more like Kayla because Tyson was bouncing off the walls at 8), they got started on the dragon boats. 

“So, teach me. What do I do?”

“First, you have to make the green construction paper into a box to make it look like a box.”

Tyson just stares at Kayla, wishing that he didn’t take the plastic covering off of the paper so he could read the labels and know which was green. However, Kayla, knowing Tyson, handed the green paper to him so that Tyson wasn’t completely lost. Tyson was about to start but unsure how to put the paper into a box format. So, he decided to watch Kayla construct hers first. Once Kayla finished, she held it up and said a soft ‘ta da!’

Tyson was still ever confused. When Kayla went to grab a second piece of green paper, Tyson decided he would mimic her actions in real time. However, instead of Tyson’s looking like Kayla’s once finished, Tyson’s was all jagged and didn’t look anything like a boat.

When Kayla was about to start a third boat, Tyson said, “Wait! Before you start, can you do it slowly and explain each step very carefully and clearly so I can make one that looks like yours?”

Kayla chuckles and says, “Of course. All you had to do was ask.”

“Ready, Tys?” Tyson nods in response.

“First, fold one of the short sides about two and half inches in. Try to fold it into a straight line. Yeah, like that. Now, do it to the opposite side.” Kayla pauses, waiting for Tyson to give her a nod that she can continue.

“Now, you take the long sides and fold it in about two and a half inches so it looks something like this. Next step is cut along these lines and fold them in. Nope, like this. Yeah that. Tape the sides so that it doesn’t fall apart. Yeah, good. You now take your scissors and kind of cut in a curved line, like a half circle but only the outer line, to make the curves of a boat. After, we take the long ends and fold them against each other so that they are pointy.”

Kayla pauses allowing Tyson to catch up. She smiles softly when Tyson has his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth in fierce concentration as he normally does. 

“Like this?” Tyson asks when finished.

“Yeah!” Kayla responds enthusiastically. “That’s it! And now, we use the gold sharpie and draw scales on the boat. It’s basically is just circles but not closing them. Stopping about seventy five percent of the way.”

Kayla and Tyson draw the scales in silence not wanting to distract the other. 

“What comes next?” Tyson asks, once he has finished his one and Kayla all three of hers.

“We add the dragon!”

“We have to make a dragon?” 

“No, normally my sister and I would print out pictures and we’d color them. In past years, Elizabeth would color in while Charlotte and I made the boats. I just printed out dragon heads that would match. Here they are. We can just glue them on.”

“Thank goodness. I don’t think that I would have been able to draw a dragon. Ever. At all. So, don’t ask me to.”

“Don’t worry, Tys. I know your artistic abilities. After we glue on the dragon head, we can make the oars with red construction paper and glue them one. Then, we’ll be done!”

Tyson finished putting his head and oars on the boat before Kayla because she made three and Tyson had one good functioning boat. 

“What do we do after we finish making the boats?”

“Normally, my sister and I would make a small pond or lake and tape the boats on there. I bought a blue poster board so we can use that.” 

Kayla and Tyson worked on their pond for the dragon boats and didn’t leave out a single detail. They made sure to add areas on the grass next to the pond for the spectators to watch the races. They used old wine corks and painted them red and orange to mimic the traditional drums.The couple worked long into the afternoon and only realized the time when Kayla’s alarm went off reminding her to soak the rice. 

Once Kayla returned to the table where the poster board sat, Tyson had added little goldfish into the pond.

“You know, Tys, I think that if there were goldfish in the pond, then they would be far away from the boats. Also, probably not visible to the human eye.”

“Whatever, Ms. Smarty-Pants Kayla. I like the goldfish. I vote to keep the goldfish in the pond.”

“Fine, but then, one of my boats gets to be in the lead when we glue them down.”

“You throw a hard bargain but fine, I agree.” Tyson says with a mischievous grin. Kayla knows that grin. She knows that Tyson is going to begin tickling her until she is begging for mercy. Tyson instantly gets up and begins tickling Kayla. This continues on and the only chance at a reprieve is when the doorbell rings signalling that Tyson’s family has arrived.

“I guess I have to stop tickling you, Kayla.”

“I guess so.” He doesn’t 

Tyson’s family decide to let themselves in and are shocked at what they see sitting on the kitchen counter. 

“What in the world is this?” Kacey asks.

“Kayla spends her Dragon Boat Festival holiday making sticky rice and dragon boats. So, that’s what we did.” Tyson responds.

“Let me guess, this subpar looking boat was Tyson’s?” Kacey asks. Tyson just sticks his tongue out at her and Tyson does the same. 

“Ok, you two, cut it out. We have some sticky rice to make, yeah?” Laura cuts in with a chuckle.

Kayla and Tyson move the pond onto the coffee table and clear all of the craft stuff away and put it into a closet to deal with later. 

“I already have the rice soaking so we can start with that. Before we mix everything, we have to cut the Chinese sausage, mushrooms, shallots, and garlic. We have to also saute the shallots, too. Let’s start with that and then we’ll go from there.” Kayla explains. 

Once the directions were clear, everyone was assigned with a task. Laura is going to cut the shallots and saute them. Kacey and Kayla are going to wash the mushrooms and cut the mushrooms and garlic. Tyson and his grandparents are going to cut the Chinese sausage. 

“So, Kayla, tell me. How long have you been making sticky rice?” Tyson’s grandmother asked.

“I grew up watching my mom, grandfather, and aunties make the rice. This holiday used to be my grandfather’s favorite. When I turned twelve, my mother finally allowed me and my sister, Charlotte, to help make it. We normally would be assigned with washing the mushrooms and cutting them. Sometimes we’d be allowed to help construct the rice into the lotus leaf. That only happened later into my teenage years.”

“Do you do this with your family often?” Laura asks.

“Yeah, we would do this every year. This holiday is the one where my grandfather would be in control of the kitchen. My grandmother, aunties, and parents would all be sitting working on wrapping these and my sister and I would huddle around my grandfather for just a peak. He would always tell us about the same stories each year from when he was a child. When I was in high school, my grandfather passed away and my grandmother became the head sticky rice maker in our family. When I was in college, my grandmother was diagnosed with Arthritis making it hard for her to do any of the cooking so my sister and I took on a bigger role of making the sticky rice with my mom and aunties while my grandmother watched.”

“Is this your first year not making this with them?” Kacey asks.

“It is, actually, yes.” Kayla responds glumly.

“Do you miss them?” Tyson asks, wishing he asked if you wanted to go home.

“I was at first but then you prompted me with the idea of making the sticky rice with all of you so I’m not anymore! My grandfather always used to tell me that sharing our traditions keeps them alive. So, I am doing what he always wanted me to do.” Kayla replies with a bit of pep in her voice.

“Care to share any of those stories, Kayla?” Laura asks. Kayla looks over at Tyson to get confirmation that she should share. Tyson nods prompting Kayla to continue.

“Sure! I can’t remember all of them but one of them that I remember him telling us was when my grandfather was five. This was the first year that he was allowed in the kitchen to observe the cooking with the elders. While he was watching, my grandfather watched one of his uncles put salt on the lotus leaves. Putting salt on the lotus leaves allows for a richer taste for the rice. I’ll get to why we don’t do that in a minute. My grandfather decided that the pinch of salt on the lotus leaves was not enough and he took it upon himself to add more salt. No one noticed. When the sticky rice was ready to eat, the rice was so salty that it was fed to the farm animals. My grandfather felt so bad that he confessed to putting more salt on the lotus leaves. His punishment was to have to clean the chicken pen. Every year after that, no one put salt on the lotus leaves and my grandfather never used salt for his sticky rice ever again. I actually don’t think he ever used salt again after that.” 

The story gains a laugh out of everyone. 

The rest of the prepping continues on with smaller conversations. Once finished and the rice is drained, everyone watches Kayla mix the rice and all the ingredients together.

“I am going to mix the shallots, mushrooms, sausage, and chicken with rice. I am also going to add oyster sauce, soy sauce, and sesame oil. Once I’ve done that, we can begin wrapping the rice in the lotus leaf.”

Once the rice is mixed, Kayla demonstrates to everyone how to wrap the lotus leaf around the rice.

“You put the leaf on the counter and take one cup of rice and put it in the middle. You just fold it so that the rice won’t come out and tie it with a piece of string. There isn’t any pattern to fold it. Once folded, it should look like this and then we’ll steam them and will have sticky rice!”  

“I remember when I was ten and my grandfather was teaching me how to do this.” Kayla begins. “He told me and my sister about the first time he wrapped rice in a lotus leaf. He always told the story and made sure to say that he watched this being made for almost eight years prior to being allowed to wrap them and doesn’t know why he did it. He would tell us that he took the kitchen scissors and began to cup up the leaf. He cut a circle so that the rice could sit on something. He then trimmed the lotus leaf into mini looking pieces of leaf and placed them on the pile of rice. He always compared it to someone making a scrapbook and gluing small pieces of ribbon onto the paper. Every year, he would make one of these. This was what the young cousins would do. They would place the cut up pieces on the lotus leaf. I probably have pictures somewhere of me and my sister making those when we were really young.”

“Did you want to make one?” Tyson asks.

“Yeah? Sure!” Kayla replies with enthusiasm. She goes into the drawer and pulls out a pair of kitchen scissors. Kayla and Tyson begin cutting up a piece of lotus leaf. Once the rice is placed on a circular piece of lotus paper, Tyson and Kayla begin adding the small miniature pieces. Their giggles and laughter can be heard throughout the kitchen, putting smiles on everyone’s face in the kitchen.

For the next hour, Tyson, Kayla, Kacey, Laura, and Tyson’s grandparents folded the sticky rice and lotus leaf to be ready to be steamed. Conversation flowed easily and Kayla couldn’t help but smile. She was able to share her culture and her upbringing with the man she loves and his family she absolutely adored. It couldn't be any better. 

After there was no more rice to be folded into the lotus leaf, Kayla put the rice wrapped in lotus leaf into the pot to steam for an hour and half. 

“What do you do while the sticky rice is steaming?” Tyson asks.

“Not much, normally my mom or grandmother would begin making the other parts for dinner but I just bought those frozen because I didn’t want to screw up making them for the first time. We can watch a movie or play a game, maybe?” Kayla responds. 

After a small debate, everyone decides to play a card game as Kayla will have to get up and check the water every twenty minutes to make sure that no lotus leaves came undone.

… 

After an hour and half and steaming the rest of dinner, everyone was able to sit down and eat. 

“This is the typical dim sum. Normally dim sum is eaten for lunch but on the Dragon Boat festival, my family eats dim sum at dinner. We have Ha Gow, Siu Mai, Cheong Fan, Lo Ba Go, Cha Siu Bao, and Chao Mian. Which are shrimp dumplings, open faced shrimp dumplings, beef wrapped in rice noodles, fried radish cake, steamed pork bun, and fried noodles, respectively. And, obviously the sticky rice we all labored to make!”

Kayla’s explanation was met with hungry looks and nods of approval of how tasty everything looked. 

“How did you eat the one with the cut up lotus leaf?” Tyson asks, confused.

“Normally, we would put that one aside and eat it the next day. When it’s cold, it is easier to pick the lotus leaf pieces off.” Kayla explains. 

When Kayla sat down, she was so happy that she was able to celebrate this holiday with loved ones, even if they were her boyfriend’s family. If things went according to plan, Kayla hoped that maybe they could make a tradition out of this.

Part Three will be posted on February 26, 2021