#i'm just having a lot of fun with this au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

korlkorl · 1 day

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YAY! i greatly enjoyed your shoujo au!!! it was amazing to read, ty for your contribution to humanity u r doing god's work frfr!!! would you be willing to write a hanahaki au for the twst second years? (preferably an angsty ending, but if you would prefer something happier, that's 100% fine with me!! i'm not picky!!) 🤭♥️

hanahaki + second years

hanahaki: a fictional disease caused by unrequited love in which you vomit blood and flower petals (flowers tend to relate to the person you) and although there is an option for treatment, you become numb to emotions. if you don’t get treatment, you die.

(I decided to add how the twst seconds years would treat the disease— will they get treatment or not?)

not very good angst warning under the cut!!!

riddle rosehearts

riddle grew up alone, mostly. every time he seeked for comfort, for company, it’ll fall apart. it would always go wrong, he’d lose everything the moment he got too greedy.

riddle still struggled to properly face trey and chen’ya after all those years, even if he got better with it. it was too embarrassing, too lame. he felt like a loser. a sore loser who deserved nothing. oh sevens, did the world have something against him?

things were looking on the bright side. he was out of his mother’s furious grip, he has more freedom than he ever did (even if he goes by strict rules) he could make as many friends as he liked and hang out with them as much as he liked.

he still preferred being private, however. he liked his friends, you included. they were more understanding of him than any other member of the school. although he’d twist and turn in bed when he thinks back to his overblot (how embarrassing of me! he thinks) he would still much prefer being with those who accepted him a long time ago.

you weren’t too big on sweets. you liked them, sure, but the more you ate the more your mouth felt itchy. knowing riddle’s sweet tooth, sometimes, you’d secretly pass your unfinished slice of cake or unfinished strawberry tart to him. riddle rosehearts, the strict, germaphobic, lowkey a dictator, heartily took it.

if it were anyone else, he’d just stare at them in disbelief. but the thought that you bit into the very sweet treat, it threw him over the moon. he’d read of indirect kisses before, in cheesy romances he read in his spare time. he doesn’t know if this is actually an indirect kiss, but don’t make fun of him, he’s still learning!

riddle has a lot of firsts, like the first time he tried that strawberry tart, or the first time he learned that playing with friends is fun, or the first time he ever overblotted, or the first time he fell in love.

you were his first love.

he turns red when alone, imagining your face and your laughter and your joy. your silly mishaps that he has no heart on lecturing you over, or your inability to understand some of the assignments. he finds all aspects of you cute— wonderful? he doesn’t know how to describe what he’d feeling, but it gets him all giddy.

he’s frustrated often, the way he started blushing violently when you ever get in close contact with him and how you always, always seem to be unaware of this. oblivion would send you to hell.

he’s been feeling quite nauseous lately, probably because of his failed attempts of clumsily sending you signals about how he feels.

it was to a point where he threw up… petals? petals…??????? oh my god, he’s throwing up petals!!!

riddle distinctively remembers reading about this during his first year, a disease of romance, love, and failure.

his heart sinks. maybe that’s why you failed to notice.

things never go his way, riddle thinks. he’s always feeling alone. every time he gets greedy for comfort, he loses it at the highest point of his life. when things are getting better, it takes turns for the worse. that’s why riddle likes to follow the rules.

by his third year, riddle’s back to being his strict, controlling prefect. except something’s different, he’s not as angry anymore.

that’s to be expected, though. ever since the surgery, riddle has never been the same.

ruggie bucchi

he has grown up to treasure everything he has.

ruggie isn’t as financially stable as others, he wasn’t lucky to be fortunate enough to get what he wants, whenever he wants.

so when he does get what he wants, ruggie makes sure to keep it close to his heart like it means everything. most of the time, it does mean everything, all of it. his life.

he hardly gives away his things (please don’t mention the kids at the slums, he’ll turn awfully shy.) and takes anything he’s given.

when you would give him the tiniest amount of food, he’d gladly snatch it from your hands and walk away snickering.

easy target for food is what you are, he thinks.

most of the time, when people give things away to him, ruggie just assumes that it’s unwanted. he’d take leftovers no problem. it’s only when you’d constantly hand things to him, always have something to give him and remember he exists, does he think you’re odd. I mean, he’s fine with taking the forgotten leftovers, but what could he possibly do when you don’t forget him?

watch ruggie clumsily fiddle around with his fingers, scanning the area for your presence. he has learned to not worry, as you always manage to come find him everyday without fail. he feels noticed.

he starts to crave for that attention.

ruggie treasures things. he keeps them close in his heart very carefully. but what would he do when you steal his heart instead? where can he hide all the things that mean everything to him?

somehow, he doesn’t mind. he wants you to see him more, ruggie bucchi, his true self.

the crave he has for you is for some odd reason, unmet. you’re oblivious to his shy antics, the way his ears turn flat when you walk away or the way he holds onto the hem of your shirt just for a second longer.

notice him.

when you see the way he unconsciously covers his mouth whenever you meet eyes with him, or the how he’s constantly going to the infirmary, will you finally notice him?

there’s a trail of your favourite flowers.

ruggie bucchi keeps all the special things close to his heart. when you take his heart away, how else can he express his pathetic, unrequited love? by coughing up a disease ruggie would’ve called embarrassing and shameful if it weren’t for you.

azul ashengrotto

azul is sensitive. he notices things way too easily. the tiny, insignificant details of someone and how they react, he will notice. that is how azul finds out how a person truly feels about him.

even if azul and that other person were considered close friends, azul would still notice the tiny little details that make him unlikable to them even just a little. it’s been a habit for as long as he could remember.

everyone always had something they disliked about azul. it was fine with him, that was normal. everyone dislikes everyone about anything. it’s not like it deters long lasting relationships. azul shrugs it off, it doesn’t bother him. it’s comforting, even, knowing what people think about him.

so it was obvious to say it was near-horrid when no matter how much time azul spent time with you, he could not spot anything off about you, anything that said you didn’t like him.

as much as azul notices how people act around him, he also notices other people. he knows all their flaws, their good sides and their bad sides. even if he couldn’t read your thoughts about him at all, he still expected to see something out of the norm about you, a bad trait, something that made you human.

to him, you had none.

were you god? how come you were near-perfect in his eyes? during cold months, the tips of your nose and ears would flush pink like a cute plum while azul turned embarrassingly red. he thought it was ugly and didn’t make him look good, but there nothing to prove that you thought the same. he couldn’t tell anything about you at all.

you were like a confusing puzzle piece to him. unsolvable, unreadable, flawless. perfect.

it took a while to adjust, but his unwavering respect for you turned into wavering thumps of his heart and dodging eyes. maybe you weren’t perfect after all, maybe azul just likes you.

the terrible urge to impress you grew stronger everyday.

he wanted to look as perfect as you did to him.

but how can he possibly ever look perfect,

when he is sick?

hovered over the toilet, azul clutched his chest as petals slid out of his mouth as if it were apart of him. well, it is apart of him, I guess. his love for you is one with him after all.

azul is sensitive, but he tries not to show it. not only is he good at catching the little things, he’s quick to anger or get hurt. the best he can do is hide them. so he hides the feeble emotion he calls love and comes back after winter break just as the same. he’s dutiful and runs his business like he normally would, and still hangs out with you time to time. he just feels more… empty? you’ll never know why he seems to be this way, no one really knows about the surgery.

jade leech

jade is often avoided by many people.

people find him creepy, odd, off-putting, unnerving… and more comments he hasn’t bothered to find out about.

those names don’t really bother him. in fact, he enjoys it. he loves watching people squirm in fear over something he says out of the blue. It’s exciting to watch a person try to decide if they should run away or not, unaware of jade’s capabilities.

he’s used to people avoiding him. for the sacrifice of entertainment, he isn’t all that popular. jade leech is used to it.

you were different, however.

your simply didn’t find him creepy. anything he said that was weird, you’d laugh it off and say something weird back too. jade’s height, creepy smile or the way he talks, it doesn’t seem to throw you off at all. you’d smile and wave at him when no one else dared to, you’d easily graze your skin against his and pay no mind, you’d approach him without second thoughts. It was like mutual trust, something jade has learned is difficult to find when you’re him.

so you meant everything. you were just as new and exciting, a pleasant surprise from the predicted fear everyone else has. you made him feel… seen for the first time in his life.

soon, everything you did was like a horror movie (weird analogy, I know. but it’s jade leech we’re talking about!) the intensity of when the killer would approach, or when the character is alone and vulnerable, his heart pumps like wildfire as he watches expectantly to see what the new surprise would be. his favourite feeling was when the victim would die or escape, the tightening in his chest releasing as he excitedly watches what would happen next. that was you. you were his favourite feeling.

he loves the way your eyebrows moved in expression when you talked, he loved when you sneezed and looked around expecting a “bless you,” he loved the odd ways you attempted to hold your mug comfortably and most of all, he loved you. he love you very, very much.

jade leech is used to all kinds of things. he’s used to people avoiding him, he’s used to his brother’s tendencies to groan and complain at everything, he’s used to azul’s creepy capitalist tactics.

what he’s not used to, however, are the bubbly, excited emotions he feels when he gets to experiment with his beloved mushrooms, the way you took over his thoughts like the plague and most of all, he wasn’t used to the flowers spilling out of his mouth.

this was odd, per say. jade knew of the hanahaki disease. he knew of all the downsides of it. but he never worried, because, how could he, jade fucking leech, ever love someone so pathetically?

he hoped that you’d love him back too. he oh-so deeply wished he was just as new and exciting to you as you were to him.

the blood meticulously dripped amongst his fingers, flower petals sticking to it alike. he laughed at himself. he’s always imagined that if he’d ever possibly get this disease, it’ll be flowers related to the water like lotuses or water lilies. he never thought he’d start coughing up such pathetic land-dweller flowers.

it was fine, though. jade would get used to it, eventually.

because after all, he’d rather die than stop loving you.

floyd leech

floyd is scary, he knows that. He’s quick to anger, moody, tall and intimidating. He’s doesn’t really care, though. He just does what he wants. He doesn’t think it’s that big of a deal.

he likes fun surprises, something new, exciting. he thinks you meet that of that.

you’re not as scared as others, you respond to his pranks and squeezes positively, you respect his mood swings and he even caught a few glimpses of you defending him. he thinks you’re so cute!

it’s not odd to talk about the leech twins without mentioning you. floyd follows you every and jade just goes wherever floyd goes. it’s like a little trio.

you don’t get scared like others when he gets upset, return his squeezes (hesitatingly…he hugs tight!) and find him rather silly than scary.

jade thinks you were almost made for floyd, considering how well you two get along. although jade has been with floyd the longest, he can only tolerate to a certain point for you, however, it seemed to go endless. you were so much more patient with floyd then with anyone else. although floyd made be subtle about it, he’s grateful.

floyd adored you. you were everything he loves, for he loves you.

loved you.

loved? (love)

floyd started to ignore you. you’d tilt your head in confusion— you were upset. why would your best friend suddenly act like you weren’t even there? he wouldn’t even get mad, he’d just turn the other way.

it was only so long ago when floyd was hunched over in his bed from a terrible stomach ache. jade was horribly surprised to see bloody petals staining floyd’s bedsheets.

floyd never bothered with these things. for the first time in a while, he read a book out of his own volition to figure out what it was, only to rip the pages apart when he read what hanahaki was.

childishly declaring that he loves you no more, floyd would stay away from you like the plague, whilst secretly filling his system with flowers that will kill him for ever loving someone so deeply.

floyd is gonna disappear from your life completely eventually. you’d wonder what caused your best friend to suddenly hate you, while his family mourns over the loss of a loved one, as floyd refused treatment, because he foolishly decided to love you.

kalim al-asim

kalim grew up very sheltered in a loving family. The only concept of love he has is of his parents, who hold hands tightly and gush over the cutest things. they often warn him of the danger of love, and that he must be careful about the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with.

kalim, although clumsy and stupid, always kept that in the back of his mind.

you were like a breath of fresh morning air. growing up knowing very little, you were the newest, most brightest experience there was. kalim was sure you were the one. he was completely sure, why else would his heart thump so fast?

he’d hug you and hold your hand, give you gifts you could never even imagine having and tell you how much he appreciates you.

kalim hasn’t gone around to mouthing the word “love” yet, but he knows that you know anyway.

so when he started coughing up petals, jamil was quick to inform the al-asim family. kalim was confused, he didn’t understand. this love wasn’t unrequited, there was no way!

it doesn’t matter, though. he’s gonna continue loving you, you and him are gonna be happy together someday, eventually. maybe not in this universe.

kalim woke up in a hospital bed, his heart heavy.

he loves you. but he forgot what that feels like. he loved you. somehow.

jamil viper

jamil is smart. he’s smart and knows his worth. this is why he hates being in second, he knows he deserves so much more.

why does he always to have do worse than kalim? why does he always have to be second place? jamil is smart enough to know his potential. he also knows how much he’s holding himself back for the sake of hierarchy. he hates it.

it’s not a surprise when jamil finds himself unconsciously doing slower than certain people to appear normal. his main purpose in life is to not stand out, hide in the shadows, survive. like predator hiding from prey because if found, it will be caught by the silly humans.

you’re completely different from him, though. you’re as normal as a person can be, yet you aim to reach for the stars and hold it close to your heart. jamil understands your desire to outshine people all to well. he’s been in that spot, is in that spot. he pities you.

so he sticks around. he’d casually follow you, hang out whenever he can, help you with assignments so you can be the best version of yourself. he’s voraciously living through you. if you achieve your goals, that’s enough for him. at least he was apart of something meaningful for once.

it catches him off guard, however, when you encourage him to reach for his goals as well. it’s like you’re holding his hand and pull him amongst the galaxies to gently place your hands onto the hot touch of a star.

he knows that’s near impossible to reach, from the moment he was born, his life was chosen for him. but he thinks he could reach the small goals.

jamil secretly pats himself on the back for grazing against your skin for a second longer than usual, treat you to a nice meal or help you ace a test. he hopes that at least one of the goals he could reach in this lifetime is to be with you.

jamil is smart enough to know that he’s not just sick. not when blood trails down his chin to his arms, as flowers spill from inside him.

he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could have something for himself for once. not hold himself back, grasp tightly to what he wants the most.

jamil is smart enough to know his own worth. he’s definitely not worth enough to you.

silver

silver likes the little things. he enjoys the way birds chirp in the early morning, or the way the dandelion petals flow against the wind as he watches you scrunch your nose and blow on it. and then both of you guys start sneezing. ah, summer pollen, a reminiscent part of nature.

he loves the way you hold your pencil, the way you like to tie your shoelaces, how you cut your sandwiches. these small, unnoticeable traits catch his eye quite often, and he’s developed a fondness for them.

he’s a man of little words. silver doesn’t talk much, so when he thinks of these things, he never says it out loud. maybe that’s why it took you so long to notice how he felt about you.

he was so calming, and so gentle, it tugged at your heart when he’d smile softly and tilt his head ever so slightly so the cute birds could carefully place a beautiful flower crown on his head. he’s so princely, you think. a perfect knight in shining armour, loved even by the nature.

often you’d tell him how lucky any girl would be to be loved by him. your comments made silver hopeful.

silver is a man of little words, he likes to spend his days watching rather than showing. when he does finally speak his true thoughts, he genuine, honest. his words roll off his tongue so easily and smoothly, perfect fit for such a princely man (as you call him)

so when silver does finally open his mouth to speak, talk, say of what he felt in that very moment, he throat closed up. maybe he was nervous, maybe he was lame, because to both of your guy’s horror, blood spilled.

he didn’t really know what was happening. only when he felt the urge to throw up in the infirmary did he realize what was going on.

he was familiar with hanahaki. his father always told him stories of how fae would love so strongly to humans who hated them, that those who were unlucky would be induced to vomiting flowers.

when silver thought he was fae, just like his sweet old father, silver swore to himself that he’ll never love a human. now that he knows that he is, in fact, human, silver starts to doubt himself. maybe is, in a way, a fae.

it’s alright, though. silver is man of few words. he likes to watch rather than show. he doesn’t mind what could happen to him, he won’t tell anyone. he’ll just watch you from afar, filling his heart with melancholy love until he reaches his end. which might be soon, for he loves you so strongly.

a.n: my phone is on 6% as I type this I will edit this tomorrow morning when I wake up. sorry for replying so late I had tests coming up and I had to study!!! </3 thank you so much for the kind comments and I’ll catch up to requests soon! feel free leave any requests :3

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r0semultiverse · 2 days

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Rose & Kanaya as Castiel & Dean Winchester from Supernatural sprites

rosemary but it's destiel

Feel free to use these for whatever you want or for edits, just credit me for these outfit designs &/or sprites! It took a lot of hours to come up with these! 💜

#Going to reblog these to my side blog as well; but this blog has more visibility #these Kanaya are from my earlier rips if you look in the screenshot i did all of this in one or 2 days procrastinating packing my things #would love to see someone draw these 2 as an AU properly; doubt anyone will see this thou lol plz tag if you do though!#I have no idea who Sam Winchester would be; maybe Karkat??? up to y'all if you wanna make headcanons #dean winchester as Kanaya though has interesting design potential for demon kanaya & her with the mark of cain #castiel as rose lalonde too; I'd love to make different designs sometime maybe for all the spn arcs #destiel rosemary supernatural au has a lot of potential is all I'm saying! just for fun lol #hand drew the extended cloak & the pockets are from davepeta iirc; wings from davesprite #mine #op #hs sprite edit #homestuck sprite edit #kanaya maryam #rose lalonde #supernatural #homestuck #homestuck beyond canon #homestuck fanart #hs sprites #homestuck sprites

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starsstuddedsky · 3 days

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Blonde Phase

Renjun x gn reader

summary: spontaneous hair decisions always end in regret. that's what you expect to hear when you tell renjun you're bleaching your hair, but instead you find support, and even his help. you should appreciate his wholehearted support but instead it has you wondering: why doesn't he care?

genre: fluff, minimal angst, technically they're in grad school but that's not particularly relevant, non idol au,

warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking, spontaneous hair decisions (i do not endorse), lmk if I missed any

wc: 4.4k

a/n: in the immortal words of charles boyle, the most intimate thing you can do with a lover is wash their hair. yknow i made fun of him for that until i wrote this. i see it. also its been so long since ive finishing anything, pls forgive me if this is bad. renjun i love u. as always I'd love to hear what you think <3

“I’m bleaching my hair.” If you say it fast enough, Renjun won’t be able to talk you out of it. The plastic bag swings around your wrist as you walk across the parking lot. “I’ve already bought the bleach and gloves and stuff, and I’m going to do it, today.”

He’s quiet for so long you check to make sure the call hasn’t dropped. “Okay.”

You almost drop your phone. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, drawing the word out. “Was I supposed to say something else?”

“Um, yeah?” You say. “You have opinions about literally everything. You talked me out of buying those pants two days ago.” You finally get to your car, tossing the bag onto the passenger seat and half-falling behind the wheel.

“That’s because they were made of polyester, and the thrift store was still charging $15,” he says immediately. “That was a scam.”

“Money is temporary, drip is forever.”

“Those pants would have lasted a year max, before they fell apart, and you still haven’t learned how to sew so you wouldn’t even be able to mend them or upcycle them.”

“You know what, I didn’t buy the pants, so this fight is moot,” you say. You set the phone on speaker, turning the engine on to blast the AC.

“Well, not moot. Technically I won,” Renjun says.

“I’d respect you more if you weren’t insufferable.”

“Here I was thinking you appreciated my insight,” he says. “You even asked for it.”

“I did not!”

“You literally asked about bleaching your hair.”

“I said I was surprised you didn’t have an opinion, not that I wanted to hear it,” you say.

“Semantics,” Renjun says. “So what time do you want to come over?”

You frown. “Tonight?”

“The roommates are out of town for the whole weekend, and I have way better ventilation,” he says. “I’d much rather bleach it without passing out.” He pauses. “You do want help, right?”

“Honestly, I was not expecting support. I was fully ready to fight you on this,” you say.

He snorts. “Come over whenever, I'm not doing anything today.”

“See you in twenty minutes.” You hang up, feeling a strange ball of tension roll around in your gut. That was… too easy? Renjun always has something to say about your admittedly impulsive tendencies. But if he’s going to help you’re not going to reject it—knowing Renjun he’s probably already watching Youtube videos and learning more than you will ever know about bleaching hair.

And it’s Renjun. When have you done anything without his help?

Renjun opens the door wearing a wearied expression. He doesn’t bother to greet you or even smile, just unlocks the door and steps to the side.

“Hi to you, too,” you say, trading your shoes for the spare slippers resting by the doormat. You follow Renjun into the space that serves as kitchen, dining room, living room, and Jaemin’s miniature gym, with weights and mats stacked next to the television.

“Who the hell clogs a toilet and then leaves for the weekend,” Renjun says.

You set down your plastic bag full of hair products and frown. “That’s disgusting.”

Renjun leans against the counter. “And you didn’t have to spend the last forty minutes trying to unclog it.”

“So which of the guys are you going to murder?” You try to guess, running through his roommates: you find it hard to believe Jaemin would do such a thing. Jeno maybe, and Donghyuck would certainly think it’s funny. But, in all honesty, it could have been any of them.

“Don’t know,” Renjun says, “but knowing them, they’ll make a pact to protect each other.”

“Seriously?”

Renjun pauses, gaze sheepish. “It’s what I did when I accidentally killed Jaemin’s little succulent that survived his college dorm.”

You fake a gasp, placing a hand over your chest. “Every day I learn something new about you. That’s devious.”

“I was drunk!” Renjun says, holding up a finger. “And Jeno and Donghyuck pushed me into it, so it was equally their fault.”

“If you say so.” You glance around the apartment. “Where are they all?”

“Jaemin’s visiting family, Jeno has a soccer tournament, and Donghyuck said he’s going camping with Yangyang.” Renjun says, counting off with his fingers.

“Donghyuck and Yangyang are friends?”

“Yeah, according to them they bonded over dealing with me.”

“Those were their exact words?”

“Dealing with my ‘stupid ass,’” Renjun says.

“That’s more on brand.”

Renjun nods.

You think about Yangyang, Renjun’s friend from when he was a kid. You’ve met him a few times now, especially since he’s moved half an hour away from Renjun. He’s fun, always bringing out a chaotic side of Renjun whether it’s dancing on a bar or bringing out angry-Renjun. But Yangyang and Donghyuck?

“That’s a terrible friendship. They’re going to ruin you.”

Renjun nods again, but you see the smile hiding in his eyes. He can rant all he wants, you know he’s excited his friends are getting closer with each other.

You point at the bag. “So where are we doing this?”

You half expect him to lecture you about rash hair decisions but he just gestures to the kitchen. “I figure right here should be fine. The tiles should be pretty easy to clean and probably could use some bleach anyway.”

He drags the chair with a rickety leg from the dining table. You dig through the bag and set everything on the counter. While Renjun cracks a window open, you begin to mix the developer and the bleach, curling your lip at the sharp scent. Renjun joins you, pulling on a pair of gloves.

“Wow that’s strong,” he says, wincing.

“Yeah,” you say. “Definitely a good idea to do it here.”

When the powder is finally combined, you sit on the chair, Renjun following behind you. You section off your hair together, then he grabs the bowl and the brush.

He holds the thick paintbrush brush up against your hair, glancing at you, giving you one last chance to back down. You give him the nod of approval and he shifts back to focusing on your hair, brushing the bleach into it as carefully as he spreads paint on a canvas. He works section by section, carefully drenching your hair with the creamy solution.

“So, are you going to tell me why you decided to do this?”

You can’t resist turning and glancing at him. “I thought you approved.”

“I didn’t try to talk you out of it,” he says, “that doesn’t mean I’m not curious about how you came to this decision.”

You nod until Renjun uses his gloved hand to hold your head straight. “I suppose that’s fair.”

You pause, trying to find the right words. But you find yourself drifting back to Renjun. Why didn’t he ask this before the bleach was in your hair? It’s not like him to keep his opinions to himself. When you first met him, he was yelling at Donghyuck for going to a philosophy seminar just to fight with the notorious bigot of a professor (which Donghyuck did and then got kicked out, and proceeded to get the professor suspended). You only knew Mark back then, a friend from another class who invited you to meet some of his other friends in the dining hall. When Renjun turned to ask what you thought, you said Donghyuck should do what he thinks is right. Renjun didn’t hesitate to call you an idiot then. So why isn’t he calling you an idiot now?

To his credit Renjun doesn’t rush you. He continues to paint the bleach into your hair, content to wait for you to figure out an answer. Except you’re thinking about all the wrong questions. Like, seriously, why do you want him to call you an idiot?

“I want a change,” you finally say. “I’m stuck in a degree that will make me absolutely no money when I graduate, I can’t afford to break my lease, and don’t have any major relationships that need upheaving, so, hair.”

“‘A change?’” Renjun repeats. “Like, you woke up this morning and thought, today I’m going blonde?”

“Like, I have this feeling in my chest, this aching feeling that there’s something I need to do, someone I’m supposed to be, something more than the person I see in the mirror but I’ve made my decisions and I’m happy with my decisions and I genuinely like who I am. So, hair.”

You see Renjun’s hand falter out of the corner of your eye, halfway between the bleach mixture and your hair. He freezes for a heartbeat then continues to move, lifting some hair off your ear, careful not to brush the bleach onto your skin.

“‘So, hair,’” he says.

“Are you really going to repeat everything I say?”

This gets a short laugh from him. “I think the fumes are getting to me already.” He pauses, setting down the brush and stepping in front of you. “For what it’s worth, I like who you are, too. I’m really glad we’re friends.”

You smile at him. “Me too,” you say. “I definitely would have fucked up trying to bleach this on my own.”

“There’s still some bleach left,” Renjun says after he finishes with your roots. “You’re sure you don’t want your eyebrows to match?”

“Why don’t we do your eyebrows,” you say. “Better yet, why don’t we shave them off?”

Renjun sets down the brush. “Okay, no eyebrows.”

You grin at him. “That’s what I thought.”

He helps you get a plastic bag wrapped securely over your head, then sets the timer.

“What do you want to do for the next half hour?” You ask. “Preferably something that requires little to no movement.” You gesture to your head. “We’re not winning any frisbee tournaments tonight.”

“It was one time,” Renjun mutters, shaking his head and stepping around you plop down onto the couch. “We can watch something.”

You follow him, sitting on the other side, a cushion between you. The space feels strangely empty. Though you’ve spent plenty of time alone with Renjun, even alone with him at his apartment, the silence is usually interrupted by one of the guys getting bored of playing League, or coming back because they can’t go out to a bar without someone forgetting their ID, or in desperate need of Renjun’s expert advice (read: Jeno never remembers to ask Renjun to look over his submissions until 12 minutes before they’re due). The cushion between you never stays empty for long but the moments stretch on, only making the distance feel greater.

You wonder, not for the first time, how long it’s been since you’ve thought of Renjun as just a friend. If he was just a friend, you wouldn’t care so much about what he thinks. And if he was just a friend, you wouldn’t care so much that he suddenly doesn’t think.

You sneak a glance at him, fiddling with the remote for a couple seconds before realizing he grabbed the wrong one. He’s certainly always been handsome—that was undeniable from the moment you met him. But more than just being good looking, it’s Renjun himself. Not just those dark eyes, but the way they burn with passion (even when he’s arguing about the proper number of appetizers to order). It’s his perfectly shaped lips, the way they betray how he feels with a slight curve up or down—and his smile. Always, always his smile, beautiful and breathtaking even though you’ve seen it a thousand times.

He turns, a little furrow in his brow. “What?”

“Hm?”

“You’re looking at me funny,” he says. “Did I get bleach in my hair or something?”

You turn to face the TV, trying to pay attention to the show Renjun chose. “I wasn’t looking at you funny,” you say. “I wasn’t even looking at you.”

“If you say so,” Renjun says, “but if there’s a blonde spot anywhere in my hair, I’m so making you pay for it.”

You shake your head. Where the hell did those thoughts come from? Renjun, more than a friend? Sure, you’re close with him and sure, he’s objectively attractive, but you’ve never had those thoughts before. Well, at least not sober.

“Um, why are we watching Singles Inferno?”

“Because I asked and you were too busy not staring at me to answer, so I put it on,” Renjun says. “And don’t you dare try to tell me you don’t like it. I saw you rant on your Instagram story the other day.”

“Okay, but you don’t get it,” you say. “This bitch really has the audacity to to—”

“I saw your post,” Renjun says. “Believe me, I get it.”

“If you didn’t want to hear about it you should not have turned it on, because now I can’t stop,” you say. Renjun rolls his eyes but even as you delve into a full on essay about the horrible men particularly common in dating shows, you see the corners of his lips tilt up into a smile.

The timer goes off halfway through an episode.

“Saved by the buzzer,” Renjun says. “I’m putting a ban on anything reality TV related for the next three hours.”

“You’re the one that brought it up,” you mutter without any real annoyance. Despite his banter, Renjun dutifully listened to your rants, and even got mad along with you.

You drag a chair to the sink while Renjun drapes a towel over your shoulders. He puts on gloves and unwraps the bag, letting your hair fall into the empty sink.

“Close your eyes,” Renjun says gently. He tilts your head back, cupping the back of your head for a moment before pulling the head of the sink faucet out. He runs the water, long enough for you to peek your eyes open.

You’ve gotten used to seeing Renjun focused. He gets a little furrow in his brow, always glaring at his work. Before you were friends, you used to think he was actually angry, that his frowns and short tone were real. You’ve learned since then, it’s not his emotions, it’s his passion. The frown only comes out when he’s focused, trying to be perfect. When he cares.

“Unless you want bleach in them, close your eyes,” Renjun mutters, with absolutely no malice behind the words. His eyes shift to meet yours and that’s how you know you’re right. He can glare and bluster all he wants, he can’t hide his eyes, warm and shining. Like when he’s looking at his art, his gaze is a combination of soft and intense, creating something stronger than affection. Except he’s not looking at his art, he’s looking at you.

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling your heartbeat pick up. Despite every attempt to shut down the thoughts, they race through your head, a stampede grown out of control. Renjun, who you’ve only known a year and a half but who has become one of your closest friends. Renjun, who never fails to share the only opinion you really care about. Renjun, who you can’t imagine life without. Renjun, who you’ve never dared to imagine life with.

He places a hand on your forehead, bringing the faucet closer to rinse your roots while keeping the water from pouring onto your face. You prepare for a cold shock but the water that soaks into your hair is the perfect temperature—not scalding hot, not freezing cold. Some water sprays over his hand, falling onto your eyelids and cheeks.

“Sorry,” Renjun murmurs. He holds the head farther away, running his fingers gently through the roots of your hair. He’s so close you can feel his breath, warm against your temple. You can feel his body, hovering over yours, and maybe it’s just your imagination, but warmth seems to emanate from it.

His friends would laugh at you if you described Renjun as soft to their face, but it’s the only adjective that captures the way he works the water through your hair. Soft and gentle and careful and nothing like the Renjun that has to corral everyone into his car at 3 in the morning. And yet this Renjun doesn’t feel like a stranger to you.

Washing your hair takes a lifetime, but as soon as he steps away and turns off the water, you miss it. You miss him, even though he’s only a couple feet away.

“You can open your eyes now,” he says. As soon as you do, he tosses a towel at you. It hits you in the face before you can get your hands up.

“Hey!”

“Sorry,” Renjun says, not sounding sorry at all. He manages to hold back the laugh but still grins at you, unashamed. He steps forward and pats your face dry, with the same gentleness as before, though there’s still a mischievous glint in his eyes. You yank the towel away before he gets any ideas, drying off your face on your down and wrapping it around your hair. You wring it out a couple times before letting go, doing your best to get it to fall evenly around your head.

You raise your eyebrows at Renjun. “Okay, how bad is it?”

“Okay, first of all, I’m insulted that you think there’s any way I’d fuck up you hair,” Renjun says. “And it looks really good. Blonde suits you.”

You take a deep breath and pull out your phone, studying yourself in the mirror and… he’s right. The color is even, somewhere between blonde and orange that is unavoidable when using bleach. Radical hair changes generally end in tears but looking at yourself in the mirror, you don’t feel the usual dissonance. The hair is different but somehow more familiar than the “normal” you that doesn’t feel right anymore.

“I’m right,” Renjun says.

You smile. “Yeah, you are.” You put down your phone, meeting his eyes. “Thank you, Renjun.”

“For what?”

“Doing all of this for me,” you say.

“It’s the least I could do,” he mumbles. “You’re my friend.”

You shake your head. “Thank you anyways.”

Renjun just shrugs and grabs the bowl, rinsing out the bleach in the sink. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s avoiding your eyes.

You do your best to clean up the bleach from the floor, busying yourself until Renjun finishes. You wonder if you’re imagining the tiles getting a little bit whiter. Finally, he turns off the water and glances at you.

“You’re really happy with it?” He asks, sounding more like he doubts you rather than changing his opinion.

“Yeah,” you say, standing up. “I think it’s the ‘me’ of right now, you know?”

“Not really.”

“Like, I feel disjointed, and blonde hair is definitely not me, but it's the me that feels kind of all over the place, so even though it doesn’t look like me, it looks like me.” You wring your hands together, fingers tinged red.

“That makes no sense,” Renjun says, “but I think I get what you mean.” He smiles. “And I’m glad. I wouldn’t want you to have any regrets.”

So he did think this was a potential mistake? Why didn’t he say anything?

Renjun turns back to the sink, but before he can turn the water on, your voice calls his name. “Renjun?”

“Hm?” He doesn’t turn around.

“Why didn’t you fight me on this?”

He doesn’t move for a long moment. You wish you could see his face. “I have been told by certain people,” he begins, which is code for Donghyuck and Yangyang certified their position as Renjun’s worst nightmare. He turns to face you, wiping his hands on a towel.

“That I have a tendency to be overly opinionated in a generally negative direction. And I thought about it, and I realized I'm never really fully supportive, whether it’s a big decision, or, like, coffee, and I’ve always been this way, but, apparently, it’s especially… apparent with you.” He frowns. “This is all coming out wrong. I’m trying to say that it’s different when I’m around you. I’m different.”

Your eyes jump between his, trying to decipher what he’s saying. “Different?”

“I care a lot about you,” Renjun says, “more than anyone, actually.”

“Oh.” You blink once, twice. “Wait, you like me?”

Renjun’s eyes shift to the floor. “Yeah.”

You can’t help but let out a short laugh, reeling at the absurdity of it all. Renjun likes you? But he’s Renjun. Even though he’s the most common main character in your daydreams, you never once realistically thought he might be fantasizing about you too. But he likes you.

“I really didn’t want to say anything, I mean, before anything else you’re my friend, and I don’t want to ruin that,” Renjun says rapidly. “We’re good friends, and I really didn’t want to be the guy that pretends to be your friend but just wants to date you the whole time, that’s really not what I was trying to do, it’s just—”

“Renjun.” You put a hand on his shoulder and he freezes mid sentence, mouth still hanging open a little. Before he can move, you lean closer, the type of line you’d only dare to cross in your dreams.

“I’d like to kiss you,” you say softly. He blinks, eyes darting between your eyes and your lips.

“I’d like that,” he finally breathes. So you kiss him.

It starts light, his lips exactly as you imagined—soft and warm. His arm works its way around your waist, pulling you closer. The other works its way into your hair, still wet and sticking to your head. Renjun kisses like he’s been planning this for a long time, and maybe he has. Every movement is slow and careful, until he’s stolen all your air and even then you don’t want to pull away.

Your bravery fades the minute you meet his eyes. You bury your face into his chest, your cheek resting against your own hand. Renjun wraps both of his arms around you, holding you snugly in place.

“I like you, too,” you say into his chest. It’s the cowards route but if you look him in the eyes the words will never come out. “If it wasn’t obvious.”

“It wasn’t actually,” he says softly. “I think I drove all of my friends insane trying to figure out whether I should confess or not.”

“They all know?” You groan. “We’re never going to hear the end of this.”

“Yeah.” When Renjun laughs, it shakes your whole body. You can feel the rumbling, overtaking his heartbeat. “It’s okay though. It’s worth it.”

You turn your head, emerging from the sanctuary of his chest and tucking your head so that you can see his face. He smiles at you with the familiar warmth you’ve come to expect.

“Yeah,” you say, “it really is.”

Renjun grins.

“Your hair on the other hand…” He says.

“I thought you liked it!”

“I like it,” Renjun says, “but when has Donghyuck ever liked a single change to anyone’s hair?”

“Since when do you care what Donghyuck thinks?”

“I’m just saying now that we’re officially dating, my friends are going to be extra annoying,” Renjun says.

“Extra annoying? I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Don’t underestimate them.”

You groan, pressing your face back into his chest. “It’s not too late to get some hair dye.”

“You are not changing your hair because of my dumbass friends,” Renjun says.

“You like it?”

“You like it,” he says. “That’s the only opinion that really matters.” He pauses then adds, “But yeah. I like it.”

You grin, lifting your head to kiss his cheek. “Maybe we should dye your hair too.”

Renjun snorts. “Oh yeah?”

“We could have matching couples hair.”

He laughs out loud this time. “Maybe we should just get some shirts.”

“Three minutes of dating and you already want matching shirts? Huang Renjun, be honest.” You push off of him until you can place your hands on his shoulders and look him in the eyes. “Are you obsessed with me?”

“Yes,” he says, layering his voice in sarcasm that still isn’t enough to hide the truth of the admission. “All day every day, all I think about is you.”

“Well, see, that can’t be true because if you were that obsessed and I’m this close, you would already be kissing me because—” You forget whatever you were going to say, but it doesn’t really matter. Not when Renjun is kissing you like this. Your hands at his shoulders slink around his neck, while his wrap around your waist, leaning so close to you, you feel your back begin to dip.

Huang Renjun is poison, the kind that turns into a heart-shaped puff of pink when the bottle is opened. You melt into his kiss and it’s still not enough. You could die, right this instant, and you don’t think you’d notice. Death itself wouldn’t be able to tear you away from this moment.

“Renjun!” Donghyuck’s voice thunders through the kitchen. “How dare you? You bastard, you’re cheating?”

You jump apart, turning to see him looming in the doorway. His glare settles on you, and you see the exact moment he realizes he recognizes you.

“Jesus Christ, you could have knocked or something,” Renjun says.

“I live here too,” Donghyuck says automatically. He squints, then looks at Renjun, then back at you. “YN? Your hair is blonde.”

For some reason, you raise your hand and wave at him. “Hey!”

“Oh my god!” Donghyuck cries. “Yangyang owes me thirty dollars!” He races back out the door, screaming something that’s lost as the door swings shut.

You glance at Renjun. “Cheating?”

He frowns at the door, still a crack open. “Did he… seriously think you were someone else? That I was cheating on my unrequited crush?”

His eyes shift to yours. A heartbeat passes and you burst into laughter. His friends might be annoying, but they’re still endearing. You press a messy, smile-infested kiss to his lips and wonder if you’ll ever get used to the giddy feeling.

There’s plenty messy in your life, plenty to doubt. But watching Yangyang and Donghyuck drag their backpacks in (apparently Donghyuck forgot his power bank and they decided to give up on camping) as they attempt to interrogate Renjun on every detail, you can’t help but feel like it doesn’t really matter. You don’t doubt Renjun. You don’t doubt blonde suits you. And you don’t doubt the power of a last minute hair decision, not anymore.

thank you for reading!! likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated

#🌟 stars galaxy #nct #nct dream #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct reader #nct fanfic #nct dream fanfic #nct dream fluff #nct fluff #renjun #renjun fluff #huang renjun #nct renjun

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shinestarhwaa · 2 days

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LOVERS LANE || CHOI SAN

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Husband!San x Fem!reader

Word Count: 0.6K

Tags/Warnings: Married Couple AU, San & reader have a daughter, fluffiest fluff ever, pregnancy announcement, I cannot think of any warnings

Taglist: @anyamaris @a-soft-hornytiny @whatudowhennooneseesyou @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @pyeonghongrie-main @woosanbby @dreamlesswonder86 @changbinslovelylegs @jonghostie @lovjensoo @mjyungi @bratty-tingz @sugarnspice630 @stardragongalaxy @bro-atz @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisg00dgirl @vesvosmozhno

ENJOY!

''Babe, she won't eat the salad I made,'' San pouted. You looked at your daughter and laughed at the sulky faces both she and your husband made. ''San, honey, she's two. Most two year olds do not eat salad.'' ''But she has to try it! I made it with love,'' San sulked. ''Nabi knows what she wants and what she doesn't want is eating your salad. Instead she wants to eat mommy's sandwiches, right sweetie?''

Nabi happily took one of the small sandwiches in her hand and ate it as she continued to play with her dolls. San sighed and leaned back, letting the early spring sunrays hit his skin. You admired him for a second, drowning in his immaculate beauty.

You were so lucky to have him, you thought. He was always so kind and gentle with you, making sure you were okay and he was so funny. San won over your heart in no-time and now a few years later here you were: sitting on a blanket in a beautiful meadow in April.

''I brought a drink, to celebrate our anniversary,'' San smiled, reaching for the little champagne bottle in his bag. You bit your lip to hold back a giggle but he noticed. ''What is it?'' San asked. ''Well I can't drink that...''

''Oh, honey I know champagne is not your favourite but this one is really good actually, it's from France and it's very sweet and bubbly and you definitely need to try it becau-''

''Sannie, I'm pregnant.''

He gasped and paused, looking into your eyes to detect some kind of prank-situation, but it was true. You smiled widely as you placed your hand on your stomach. Nabi showed no reaction - probably not knowing what it even meant to be pregnant - but San's eyes were filled with tears of joy.

''You are pregnant? Really?'' he asked, unsure. ''I am, sweetie. Five weeks actually,'' you explained, holding his hand. ''Oh wow, darling this is... Incredible. We're having another baby? Baby number two?'' You laughed and nodded, ''Baby number two!''

San started laughing and he hugged you tight. ''You're pregnant!'' ''Mommy pregit?'' ''Pregnant, honey,'' San repeated, ''You know what that means?'' Your daughter shook her head no. ''This means you're getting a sibling... A little brother or a little sister... In 8 months mommy and daddy are having another baby,'' San explained.

''Sibling?'' Nabi said, eyes widening. A smile played on her small pink lips and she let out a giggle. ''Yes honey, you'll have a little brother or sister to play with, how's that?'' you asked, taking her in your lap. ''Fun!'' she exclaimed, giving you a hug.

You kissed her head and held her, remembering what it was like when Nabi was born. She was born a few weeks early and you were very worried about it, but San assured you that she would be fine because he was born early too and the Choi family only has fighters, so she'd be a fighter too. San didn't lie because Nabi was a true fighter, growing up well.

Immediately you knew that San and Nabi were very much alike. She gets sulky if things go wrong, she laughs a lot with her uncles and she's very determined. You knew that she'd be in good hands with San as a father but you had no idea how incredibly devoted he'd be. Even if it came to playing with her he'd go all the way; joining her teaparty Thursday's and playing with her dolls. It was so endearing you thought you'd burst.

For a while you just laid in his arms, Nabi happily playing in your lap. The nice spring breeze was calming and so relaxing. ''I can't believe it,'' San said after a while of cuddling, ''We'll have two babies to love... How lucky are we?'' ''The luckiest people on earth, darling.''

#kpop #ateez #shinestarhwaa #fluff #san #choi san #san x reader

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carmyboobear · 2 days

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ALEXITHYMIA CH 5: detergent, thrifting, and cake

Roommate AU: Carmy Berzatto x Reader

Chapter Rating: T (11k)

ao3 link, ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4

Chapter Summary: It’s his roommate’s birthday this week, and Carmy doesn’t find out until it’s a couple days away. Once he finds they’re unluckily spending their birthday alone, he makes it his mission to make their lonely day better. It’s the least he can do. Little does he know how much more he has to discover about them and about himself.

Tags: reader having trauma, carmy having trauma, toxic families, domesticity

A/N: It’s time… it’s time. I said last chapter was the longest…just kidding. THIS ONE is the longest, and it was hardest to write so far. The duo gets to have a lot of fun this chapter, though! arguably the most so far! A lot of domestic goodness and good food and shopping! Until… :)

also HUGE shoutout to @justaconsequence on tumblr for being my beta reader for this chapter! she was so kind and so helpful. this behemoth of a fic is too much for me to proofread on my own. anyway, thanks for reading and enjoy! can't wait to hear what y'all think!

Typically, by this time on Monday morning, Carmy's usually three cigarettes deep into paperwork, urgently (and poorly) calculating the sales the restaurant needs to make this week to stay afloat. Because even though it's a Sunday closing activity, he never seems to find the occasion to get around to it, and by 10 pm, he doesn't have the capacity to be crunching numbers.

Not that 8 am is much better. At least he's not dissecting the debt this morning—he's studying detergent prices.

“Why is this one, like, almost 20 dollars?” Carmy stops reading the price tags and glances over at his roommate, who's squinting at products on upper shelves. The lights are always too bright in this place. “And for such a small bottle…”

“Pre-mixed organic sulfate-free 100% vegan bleach,” Carmy reads dully.

“So stupid.” They shake their head. “Does grocery shopping ever depress you?”

“Usually,” he replies dryly. “Inflation is pretty depressing.”

“Don’t even get me started. Capitalism in general depresses me.”

“Hm, yeah. That too.” He sighs through his nose and tries to refocus. He's having a hard time processing all the numbers and letters today. “You see any unscented detergent? Somethin’ mild?”

“Um…” They crane their neck up and down, and then they crouch on the ground. They pick up a white bottle. “How's this? It's like, 8 dollars. It's not name-brand, but…”

“You know I don't care.” He kneels with them, huddling in close. They smell faintly of a sweet, yet musky perfume. He reminds himself to focus on the detergent, not the way they smell (even if it's far more interesting). “Yeah, this looks good. Thank you.”

“For your vintage denim, right?” They stand up to put the detergent in their shopping cart, which is barely separated with his stuff vs. theirs. He doesn't understand why his face grows warm at their comment, but it does.

“Uh, yeah. It is.” If the blush shows on his face, they graciously don't comment. “Although I'll admit I don't get around to washing them as much as I should.”

“You're not supposed to wash jeans that often anyway, right?” They lean their elbows onto the rickety cart as they push it, and he ambles along next to them, matching the slow, relaxed pace of their walk.

“Yeah, but I really…” The implications are clear. They fail in suppressing a laugh, and it makes him smile. “And I’m supposed to hand wash them, so.”

“Oh, so what you're saying is that you never wash them,” they tease.

“That is not at all what I'm saying.” They make an unimpressed face. “I do laundry, it's just…”

“Not often,” they supply helpfully. He tries to come up with something, but he's got nothing. “It's okay, I understand.”

“I promise I wash my clothes,” he mumbles, wilting.

“I know.” There's that new smile he's grown to recognize more clearly. It's this mischievous one they get when they’re teasing him, and it's so cute he doesn't have any room in him to get even a little irritable. “I've seen you do laundry maybe once or twice.”

“Hey,” he says, warning, and they laugh and run ahead of him, the squeaky wheels of the cart giggling alongside them.

After the night he almost burned down their apartment, he had felt different. It was like a switch being flipped, light abruptly filling up a dark room, and he's been squinting, struggling to adjust. But as he walks with them today, grocery shopping lit by blinding white fluorescents, he finds that he can see them rather clearly.

The connection between the two of them is tangible, palpable. It's workable pasta dough that's been kneaded to uniformity. The dough is malleable, clean, and when he touches it, sticky, glutenous residue doesn't cover his palms. When he catches at them peeking over their shoulder to make sure he's still following them, he chases away the urge to pull them into his arms. He throws the desire into boiling water in hopes that enough pressure will change those feelings into something more palatable. He's not sure if it's working.

Something happened when he hugged them that Saturday night. He doesn't dare name what that “something” is, but it's rising from where it's sitting at the bottom of the pot, just about to hit the surface—

“Hey, I gotta get some stuff in this aisle.” Carmy snaps out of it and follows them as they veer the cart to the left. He raises his eyes to read the categories on the sign.

“You bakin’ somethin’?” They both move out of the way for an oncoming cart.

“Yeah, was thinking about it.” They halt to a stop in front of the boxed cake mix and step back to fully peruse the shelves. He stands next to them, and they glance at him out of the corner of their eye. “You’re not judging me for getting box mix, are you?”

“Not at all,” he answers honestly. “Food is always better when made from scratch, but box mix has its uses. Besides, I’m not a baker.”

“That’s true, but I’m sure you still make an insane cake.” Carmy’s aware he can’t make them unsee his flash of a smile, but he still shrugs. “Sure, stay humble.”

“I try. What’s the occasion?”

“Ah, nothing much. It’s just my birthday.”

“Oh, okay.”

…And he's about to move on, just as casually as it came, but then the processing finishes.

“Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” They ask confusedly.

“Is it your birthday today?”

“No, um, it’s this Thursday.” He exhales in palpable relief.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He hates at how worked up he sounds.

“Um…” Their face is twinged with guilt. “...There was never a good time to bring it up?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be getting upset.” He sighs, shakes his head. “I just feel like I should’ve known, I guess.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s not your fault. I never brought it up. Um…” Their hands are fiddling with the edges of their sleeves. “I just have complicated feelings about my birthday.”

“Ah, I see. I get that.” That, he can understand. “Is it all the gifts and stuff?”

“Kinda. It’s a part of it.” They lean down to grab a box of devil’s food cake, and that makes him remember that they’re in a grocery store. Not quite the best place for a personal conversation like this. They’re being vague, but he won’t press. Not right now.

“You shouldn’t be baking for yourself on your birthday,” Carmy mutters. They smile at that, but it’s different. It’s heavy with melancholy.

“It’s alright. I’m gonna be celebrating with my friends this weekend, just not on my actual birthday.” His conflicted expression persists. “It’s okay, really. It’s just a day. It’ll be enough of a present to not have to go into work.”

“Put that back,” he blurts out. “I’ll make you a cake.”

“Don’t you work?” Their eyebrows are arched in surprise. “You really don’t—”

“I know I don’t. But I want to. I do work, yeah, but I’ll, I’ll get someone to cover me.” He’s never said those words before in his life, and now that they’re out, he can’t take them back. As a matter of fact, he doesn’t want to take them back. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Of course,” they reply quickly.

“Then let me do this. Please.” He has no idea where this courage is coming from. “I want to. I know I'm always working, but I really…” Their eyes are wide with wonder, yet watchful. It shouldn't make him falter, but it does. His heart stutters and whatever bravado briefly gripped him fades away. “I’m…probably being too pushy right now. Tell me to fuck off?”

“I’m not gonna tell you to fuck off for wanting to bake me a cake,” they laugh, easing his worries like they always do. “C’mon, Carm.”

“So, uh, is that a yes, or…?”

“Just so we’re clear, I’m not trying to ask you to take off of work for my birthday,” they start carefully, “but I wouldn’t object to it. So, yeah. It’s a yes.”

“Okay.” He can’t help his giddy smile. There's someone saying you look stupid like this, but he’s with them, and it makes everything else silent. “Okay, good.”

“You’re…being super sweet about all this.” He doesn’t understand why—maybe it’s the way they say it—but hearing that makes his neck go hot.

“I mean…friends do stuff like this, don’t they?”

“Only the good ones.” They beam beautifully at him. He hasn’t done anything to warrant their affection, he thinks, but the feeling of their smile is so warm. He can’t resist soaking in it.

He's glad that lady luck blessed him just enough to stop their birthday from passing him by. He's been itching for an opportunity to repay them for all the bullshit they've had to take from him as of recent (although he knows if he brought it up, they would say it wasn't anything worth repaying). They deserve something good from him for once, not panic attacks and nightmares.

He just wishes he could figure out why they were going to spend their birthday alone. He knows them a lot better now, but there's still so much left shrouded. He wants to know them inside and out—he wants to learn what makes them tick, what keeps them up at night, what makes them happy. He wants to know all of it in its entirety, to fill in the gaps in the puzzle he doesn't have the pieces for.

He has some of the pieces. He understands that their relationship with their family to his—distant, strained, and difficult. Unfortunately, that’s about it. He doesn’t know any of the specifics. It’s not like he’s talked to them about his family outside of the off-handed bitter remarks, just as they have, but he finds that this fact leaves him dissatisfied.

He just hopes that they'll let him in. He's not sure if they will, but…he's gonna try. He has to. He's sick of not trying.

. . . . .

“You want to take off?” Richie’s staring at Carmy like he’s grown a second head. They're taking a smoke break in the back. “I don’t know what sort of doppelganger bullshit this is, but if you’re trying to pretend to be Carmen, you’re doing a shit job.”

“Very funny, jackass,” Carmy mutters. “I’m being serious. This Thursday.”

“All day?” Carmy grimaces, but he nods. Richie shakes his head. “You’re being weird. Really fuckin’ weird.”

“I know I shouldn’t. It’s a bad idea, but—”

“Cousin, no, that’s not at all what’s goin’ on here,” Richie interrupts, and Carmy’s at a loss for words. “This is the best idea you’ve ever had.”

“What?” Carmy squints at him. “Are you being serious?”

“‘Course I’m serious. I’m always serious.” Carmy decides not to comment on that. “Do you know how many times I’ve tried to get you off this ship for just one fucking second?”

“As the owner of this place, you’ve tried way too many times,” he replies dryly.

“Uh, as the original co-owner of this place, you don’t listen to me enough.” Again, Carmy decides not to elaborate on that one. It’s not worth it. “Take the day off. I was running it fine before, and I’ll keep running it.”

“No, no, we’re not saying that, it was not fine,” Carmy starts, but Richie’s already flipping him off.

“Whatever, I already know, new fucking system and all that. Don’t get anxiety or whatever over it, that’s why you got Syd hustling shit your way, right?”

“Uh.” Carmy didn’t realize that Richie had even been paying attention to the new hierarchy in the restaurant, let alone respecting it in any capacity. “Yeah, she is.”

“Then it’s fine.” Richie blows smoke in his face, and Carmy swats it away with a glare. “It was fine when you came in an hour late today, wasn’t it?”

“You guys knew I wasn’t gonna come in until later,” Carmy argues, defensive (although he’s not sure if there’s actually anything to argue about).

“Exactly.” Richie sighs all of a sudden, a long one that sounds like it’s bone deep. “Carm. Let me be straight with you. You need to do this. Okay? No backing out of this one.”

“Why’re you sayin’ this? What are you sayin’?”

“It’s ‘cause of your roommate, right? This Thursday?”

“...Yeah.” Carmy pales. “How did you—?”

“Fuckin’ knew it,” Richie says, grinning. “It was obvious.”

“No way. I didn’t say shit.”

“You didn’t need to.” Richie flicks the ash off his cigarette. “They’re changin’ you, man. We can all see it.”

“...” Carmy can’t deny that. He doesn't have time to ponder on that right now. “Is it really okay?”

“Yeah, you could stand to have an attitude adjustment.”

“I wasn’t talking about that, asshole. I was talking about Thursday.”

“Yes, for fuck’s sake, it’s completely fine.” Richie claps a hand on his shoulder, solid in its grip. It makes Carmy’s eyes snap to him, mostly in confusion. “So what’s the occasion? Must be important.”

“It’s their birthday. I mean, I could just go home early that day, but—”

“Yo, if you’re gonna take off, don’t halfass it—”

“That’s not what I was gonna say. When I’m here, I can’t seem to find my way out. This place…it just has a way of trapping you in.” He doesn’t expect Richie to nod, but he does. “I know if I don’t take the whole day off, I’ll never get out of here in time. Not until it’s too late.”

For some reason, that makes Richie laugh.

“Yeah. That's it.” Richie shakes his head as smoke trails out of his mouth. “That’s just it, man. You have to make time for the things that’re important. Even the recitals where you have to listen to five year olds play twinkle twinkle little star 20 times. You can’t miss shit like this. Because once you miss it, it’s gone.”

“Rich.” Carmy wants to say something to make that haunted expression leave Richie's face, but he doesn't come up with anything in time.

“Don’t give me that look.” Richie’s hand falls from his shoulder. “I’m just tryin’ to stop you from fucking shit up. They actually seem like a good person.”

“Y’think so?”

“I do. You?”

“Yeah.” Carmy doesn’t bother hiding his smile, even though he can already sense Richie’s teasing coming from a mile away. “They’re a really good friend.”

“Friend. Sure.” Richie snorts.

“Don’t push it,” and for some reason he adds, “they were gonna spend it alone.”

“Huh. Sociable guy like them spending it alone?”

“I know. I didn't ask. Maybe I should've.”

“Maybe. I dunno, cousin. Everyone's got their secrets. Especially the ones that try to act like they don't have any.”

“You're strangely full of wisdom today.”

“Fuck right off,” Richie responds in regular Richie fashion.

“I think they're like me. Like us.” Carmy's not sure why he's saying this on a Monday afternoon at work out of all times, but the truth bursts out of him beyond his will. Richie's expression shifts into something more solemn, something recognizable. “Y'know what I mean.”

“...Yeah.” Richie claps his hand on Carmy's back again. “Shitty parents club.”

As Carmy stands there in the back, feet sore and tobacco in the air, he sees his childhood in flashes. He's five years old again and is following Mike around with scuffed sneakers and untamed hair, although he supposes that unruliness never truly changed with time. There's warm sunlight filtering through green summer leaves. He hears his mother behind him, somewhere, but maybe he doesn't.

He thinks of home, of his bedroom, and it is cold. He has homework he’s failed to complete again. It's sitting on his desk, on top of all of the other shit he can't finish. There's screaming, and he's not listening.

He blinks. He’s 30, and he hasn’t talked to his mom since Michael died.

“Shitty parents club,” Carmy repeats hollowly.

. . . . .

When Thursday morning arrives, Carmy ends up greeting his roommate with flour in his hair and eggs sizzling on the pan.

“Um,” they say, just as Carmy goes “G'morning.” They both freeze, brief awkwardness circling between them before it dissipates with their breathless laugh.

“Good morning. I didn't think you'd actually take off,” they admit.

“I said I would,” he replies quietly, but it's not accusatory. How many times had he said he'd be home for dinner just for him to arrive when they're already asleep? He tries not to make empty promises anymore. Nonetheless, he understands their surprise. “Um, I'm almost done with breakfast. I didn't get to the coffee yet.”

“Am I supposed to be offended?” They laugh. “That's the least I can do, with you doing all of this.” They sluggishly shuffle behind him to reach down into some kitchen cabinets. “It's a special day, so I'll even make us pour overs.”

“That's true. It is special.” He peeks over his shoulder, pausing from basting the eggs in brown butter to see them setting up on the kitchen island. They gently place the hourglass-shaped glass onto the counter with a light clink. He silently switches the button on for the electric gooseneck kettle to his right. “Am I allowed to wish you a happy birthday, or should I not?”

“Hm, I don't mind. Just don't overdo it, which I doubt you will.” They pull out a bag of coarse ground coffee and a filter. As soon as they open the bag, he can smell the sweet scent of the light roast floating towards him.

“Okay. Then, happy birthday,” he says as casually as he can.

“Thanks, Carmy.” He studies their expression, searching for annoyance in their content expression, but he doesn't find any. “That's not even really what I meant by today being special, though.”

“How else did you mean it?” The eggs are done. He reaches over the hot pan to cut the heat.

“Well, y'know. I dunno if we’ve ever had a full day off together.” They're carefully scooping grounds into the filter fitted on top of the glass, creating a small hill. “I think I managed to catch you coming home early on my off days sometimes, but never a full day.”

“Huh.” Carmy has to take a minute to think about that one. “Yeah, I don't know either. I think you're right.”

“Then, like I said. It's special.” They seal up the bag of coffee grounds, and then they frown. “Shit. I forgot to turn on the kettle. Can you—”

“Already did it,” he reports, pleased, and his sense of accomplishment only doubles at their sigh of relief.

“Thank god.” There's the familiar clicking sound of the kettle reaching the perfect temperature. “Just in time, too. Can you hand it to me?”

“Yes, chef,” he says, because it always makes them laugh. Today is no exception. He slides the metallic kettle over to them.

“So what delights did you whip up over there?” They ask. They begin pouring the almost boiling water over their coffee grounds in a slow circle, gradually inching towards the middle. “It smells amazing. I want the full break-down.”

“The full break-down, got it.” On two circular plates, he's carefully placing a fried egg, thick cut bacon, and a slice of toast with jam and butter. “Uh…it's nothin’ special, just stuff we had in the fridge. We've got a, uh, brown-butter fried egg with a little paprika, sage, pepper, salt…”

“Oh, just an egg made with liquid gold, no big deal,” they imitate.

“Cut it out,” he snips back, but he's smiling and they know it. “There's honestly not much to it. This thick-cut bacon was in the back, so I cooked the rest of it. And the toast is just brioche with salted honey butter and blueberry jam.”

“Carmy. C'mon. That's nothing special to you?”

“I mean.” It's not quite nothing, he thinks. “I can make nicer breakfasts, is all.”

“That's what you said when you made me garlic bread, and that fucking blew my mind.” They set the kettle down with a thunk. The glass is full of dark coffee. Prepped next to them is their favorite glass mug alongside Carmy's. He's not sure how they knew that it was his favorite, but he doesn't question it.

“I'm just letting you know that you should wait to be really impressed.”

“Too fucking late, man.” He's turned around and placed the two breakfast platters on the kitchen island, and they gawk openly at it. “Holy fuck.”

“It's ready,” he says, surprisingly meek. He can't comprehend why anxiety's hitting him now of all times. He's served acclaimed food critics, top-security government officials, and celebrities more times than he can count. Before that audience, he never faltered, but in front of his roommate in their crumpled pajamas, his heart stutters.

“Oh, wow…” They regard the food with undeserved softness. Like a punctured balloon, his anxiety immediately begins deflating. They're staring at the food like it's a painting in a museum. “You seriously didn't have to do all of this.”

“I know. I just wanted to.” He feels heat on the back of his neck. “Is…is that okay?”

“It's more than okay.” Suddenly, he notices their eyes are puffy, like they were crying. “Goddamnit, get over here.”

He only registers what's about to happen for one second before they're hugging him. Their palms are on his back, and the top of their head tucks under his chin perfectly. He makes a small, surprised noise.

“I, I'm glad you like it.” He links his arms around them, allows himself to rest his chin on their head. With their face turned to the side, their ear's pressed up against his chest, and he's instantly struck with the paranoia that they're gonna hear his rapid heartbeat.

“I haven't even taken a bite yet, and I love it.” They lean back then, arms still wrapped around him and head craned upwards to look at him. It's far too intimate for what they are, and Carmy hates how his heart beats even harder. “Thank you for doing all this. Seriously. I…”

“The breakfast's just a side thing, I'm, um, still baking you a cake.”

“What? You're doing this and a cake?”

“Um,” Carmy repeats intelligently.

“Carmy. Carmy, Carmy, Carmy.” Their words ooze affection, but surely he's just imagining it. Their hands are crawling up his back. “God, I could just ki—”

“There's the timer,” Carmy blurts out, because his phone's ringing and so are his ears. At the sound, they let him go, and he grabs two towels to retrieve the two circular cake pans from the oven. A toothpick poked through the middle comes out clean, so he sets them on a wire rack to cool.

He needs to focus on the cakes. That's the most important thing.

“Oh my god.” They lean in close to the cake and take a deep breath. “Is this—”

“Devil's food cake, yeah.” The heat searing his face is surely from opening the oven.

“You—how did you—” Their smile is luminous with joy. “You really pay attention to every little thing, don't you?”

“Sometimes. When it counts.” He fidgets awkwardly, nails picking at the sides of his fingers. “Wanna eat by the window, or…?”

“Fuck yeah I do. Can you bring the plates over? I'll have the coffee over in just a second.”

Carmy sets up at their little table first, placing the plates just right across from one another. The morning sun casts a cozy glow through their speckled window, streaking planes of light across the floor. He patiently waits and watches them pace from the fridge to the counter, splashing cream into their mugs. Through the transparent glass, he watches the white fizzle into the dark coffee, blending into a warm brown.

“Just a tiny spoon of sugar for you, right?” They peek over their shoulder, catching his stare, and he nods. He's also not quite sure how they know that, either. They've had coffee in the morning maybe a handful of times before.

He supposes they also pay attention sometimes, when it counts.

“Alright, here we go.” They bring a mug in each hand and set them delicately down on the table. He notes that his coffee is the perfect color. “Oh, thanks for waiting. You didn't have to.”

“I, I guess so, yeah. It's just, uh, you always wait for me, so…”

“That's—that's true.” An odd tension sets in their face, but they laugh it off, and it disappears. “I guess I’m not used to it anymore.”

A part of him wants to ask further by what they meant by that, but they're already taking pictures of his food so dutifully. He doesn't want to ruin it, so he eats.

It's nice to have a solid breakfast for once. He had taken their advice from the other night and had been drinking milk with protein powder. It was nice not to feel like he was teetering the edge by lunch time, but truthfully, it was a bit unsavory. This breakfast platter is much more palatable. It also helps that his stomach pains aren't active today.

Time rolls by slowly this quiet morning, and Carmy recognizes the oddity of it immediately. It's clear to see when by this time, he's usually already done at least ten laps through the restaurant. An irritating signal in his brain is telling him that he needs to get up and do something, not sit around and eat, but for once, he doesn't want to listen.

A memory from roughly two weeks ago (or was it one week?) unearths all of sudden. He was up early, drinking shitty coffee and sinking into dissociation. Mornings were lonely, as he was usually the only one up, but not that day. His roommate came stumbling into the kitchen, awake from a restless night. They chatted before he had to head out, and he remembers wishing he had more time in the morning to spend with them.

He imagined a morning just like this one, with pajamas, food, and messy hair. He daydreamed about having all the time in the world, and he thought about getting to spend it all with them. Now he’s sitting in that moment he imagined, except that it’s real. They're across from him in their wrinkled pajamas and bedhead, contentedly mowing through their food. There's a smear of jam on the corner of their mouth. He takes a sip of his coffee, and it's perfect, just as they made it for him.

This amount of good should scare him, needs to scare him, but he just can't bring himself to care anymore. He wants more than nightmares, cigarettes, and floating just above the budget. He wants this.

He tastes his coffee and reminds himself that he’s still here. The moment hasn’t passed him by.

“Is it good?” He asks quietly. It’s a rhetorical question, it always is, but he can’t help himself. He wants to hear it from them.

“So. Fucking. Good.” They have to finish chewing before they answer. “You always knock it out of the park. If this is the prelude, I don’t know if I can handle what’s next,” they say, gesturing towards the cooling cake.

“It won’t be ready for a while yet. You have time to prepare yourself.” That makes them smile. All according to plan. “Got anything in mind for today?”

“Nothing glamorous. I was just gonna go out for a little. Go thrifting, maybe watch a movie later. Smoke a joint.” They shrug. “Just my usual sort of thing.”

“Mm.” He dusts off crumbs from the toast off his fingers on his pants. “Sounds like a good time. You still wanna go?”

“I do, yeah.” They stare at him for a moment, as if processing his words. Or just him. “Do you…wanna tag along, or…?”

Whenever they ask him if he wants to spend time together (whether it’s grocery shopping, smoking, or watching a show), they usually offer it with an air of nonchalance. Carmy’s assumed it’s been out of politeness, restraining their expression as to not put any pressure onto him. That’s the person he’s used to, not this uneasy anxiety, someone afraid to ask him to spend time with them.

It reminds him of himself in every way.

“I’d love to tag along,” he answers easily, just as they’ve always done for him. “I’ve got the whole day off, after all.”

“Right. ‘Course.” He watches their little smile double in size. “I promise to not make you watch me try on clothes for too long.”

“I wouldn’t mind. I like thrifting, y’know.” And you, he thinks to himself.

“You do? Oh, of course—” They make a contemplative noise to themself. “Vintage denim. I always wondered how you managed to have so many pairs.”

“Once you know where to look, they’re pretty easy to find. I can help you find some, if you want.”

“I’d love that. I realized the other day that I don’t have any dark wash jeans, so—actually, the truth is that I do have a pair, but they’re so fucked up and old that I never wear them anymore. Anyway, I need new jeans. Think you could find some dark wash blue jeans for me?”

“If you’re willing to hit up more than one store, then definitely,” he replies, just a smidge cocky.

“I’m willing to hit up even two more stores.” He pretends to gasp, to which they nod confidently. “Yeah. That’s right. Maybe even three.”

“We won’t need three,” Carmy promises. “I’m better than that. Probably won’t even need two, but…” He shrugs. “We’ll see what they’ve got.”

“Okay, Mr. Confident over here,” they tease. “Let’s see what you’ve got!”

They head out after they both clean the kitchen and freshen up. Carmy gets the flour out of his hair and rewets his hair to revive some of his curls. He silently thanks his past self for showering the night before. With the passage of the morning cold and the rising sun, the afternoon weather’s become brisk and pleasant. However, the weather’s barely a factor in how he’s dressing.

Is this too much? Is this not enough? He’s switching shirts and pants in the mirror like he’s about to go on a date. He knows he’s not, swears to himself that he’s not, but he’s put product in his hair and cologne on his wrists and temples. It’s not a date, but he can’t fucking decide what to wear.

He sucks it up and settles on a gray sweater, light wash blue jeans, and white sneakers. From under his collar and at the bottom of his sweater peeks out a brown button up. It’s probably too much, but this is his sixth outfit change. He’s fed up with it and himself.

After adjusting the gold chain that got hidden under his collar, he steps out.

He finds them already waiting by the door in this thick knit cardigan and fitted plaid pants that makes his heart stutter. When they hear him approaching, their head snaps up from their phone, and their skin sparkles with touches of makeup.

“You look really nice.” He has no idea how he let that slip, but he’s more shocked that he didn’t stutter once.

“Ah, th—thank you,” they stammer, fingers fidgeting with the edge of their sleeve. He’s not sure if it's their makeup or their skin that’s doing the blushing. It’s nice to see them being the one tripping over their words for once. “You look pretty handsome yourself.”

“Oh. Um.” Handsome? It echoes in his head. He instantly feels self conscious. So much for being the more suave one for once. “Thanks, uh…I just didn’t wanna wear my work clothes,” he lies in an attempt to ease his embarrassment.

“I gotcha.” He’s glad they don’t challenge him on it. “Shall we head out?”

“Yeah. Where we headed first?”

They take the metro to their personal favorite shop a little up north. The metro’s surprisingly busy for a Thursday afternoon, but the crowd forces the two of them to be huddled next to each other. They’re both standing close to a pole by the window, each with one hand wrapped around the metal.

As passengers come and go, they step closer to him to move out of the way. Eventually it just gets to a point where they’re standing nearly pressed up against his chest. He tries not to dwell on how that makes him feel, but he can smell the fragrance they put on, and it’s very distracting.

Luckily, the ride is short. Any longer on the train, he might’ve put an arm around their shoulder, god forbid.

“If we can’t find what I’m looking for here, maybe you can show me one of your favorite spots to go thrifting,” they say as they enter the thrift store. The interior is decorated, clean, and lovely, and unlike the metro, it’s not packed to the brim with people. It smells faintly of incense, and there’s local art framed all over the walls for sale. It oozes warmth and excitement, much like them.

“There’s a ton of shit here, so maybe we won’t need to after all.” He finds himself intaking everything at once, eyes flickering from sign to sign. “I’ve never been here before. This is really cool.”

“It’s my favorite place to find new clothes.” They trail down the racks, finger flitting between clothes. “I hope you can find something you like here, too.”

“I’m sure I will.” He’s already walking to their denim section and immediately spots some contenders. “I think I already have.”

He’s not sure if they mean to spend hours in there, but he certainly does. There’s more than just clothes to look at, although that’s what takes up most of his time. There’s dishes, furniture, cds, vinyls, books, even electronics. He goes back and forth with them, clothing articles piling up in his arms as they sit on battered couches together and peruse scratched cds. Everywhere he looks, there’s just more, more, and more.

“Okay, I’ve gotta cut myself off,” they say as they leave the furniture section. They’ve sat on nearly every chair in that place. “I already have so many clothes to try on, and that’s not even including the jeans you’ve picked out for me.”

“If it helps, some of these are mine.” Carmy flips through the layers of hanging jeans that have built up on his forearm. “If you can believe it, I even found some stuff that isn’t denim.”

“I’m not sure if I can, but seeing is believing.” They thumb through some long-sleeves he’s carrying that are seeping out from under the jeans. “I’m just glad you were able to find some stuff for yourself, too. Not that I was that worried.”

He hands them the jeans he’s found for them, all dark wash and in their size. To his surprise, they also hand him an article of clothing for him to try on.

“I thought you’d look good in this. You’ll have to show me when you try it on,” they say, and it’s innocent, completely meaningless, but as soon as Carmy agrees and rushes to hide in the changing room, he views in the mirror and sees his flushed face.

Doesn’t mean anything, he repeats to himself, over and over and over. Stop getting in over your head.

He tries on his items of choice first. The first is a dark green henley that looked better on the rack than it did him, so he puts it in the reject pile. The second is a dark blue long sleeve that fits just right. It’s cheap, too, so it’s an automatic purchase. He presumes the way to word it is that it hugs him in all the right places, but he’s not sure. The rest are jeans, of which only one he decides to buy. A bit pricey, but for the brand and year, it’s worth it (although he basically always uses this reasoning with himself).

Now, for the piece of clothing they picked out for him. It’s a dark brown t-shirt that seems like it’s just the right length. It’s a muted, yet warm brown, a bit rosey in hue. He doesn’t realize it’s a v-neck until he gets it over his head and down his shoulders.

“I’ve never worn a v-neck before,” he calls out to the room next to him.

“Oh, are you trying it on? Do you like it?” Their slightly muffled voice calls back to him.

“Um…I’m not sure,” he admits with a shaky laugh. The collar is lower than he’s used to. It dips below his collarbones, and between them dangles his chain. “Should I show you?”

“Yes! Hold on, lemme get some pants on. …Okay, I’m stepping out!”

He hears their door open alongside his. When they see him, their expression snaps into what he believes is surprise and delight. He’s sure he looks somewhat the same.

They’re wearing one of the vintage jeans he picked out for them—dark blue Levi’s. Although they’re rolled up a couple times at the bottom, it seems to fit them just right. As he stares, he’s reminded of his many pairs of Levi’s, and it’s more or less like seeing them in his clothes, which is. Which is. Uh. Yeah.

“I knew that would suit you,” they say with a grin, to which he realizes he can’t hide his blush.

“It’s not weird?”

“Not at all. It looks good.” They tilt their head to the side as they openly look him over, hip cocked. Something in their gaze is making him hot. “No pressure to buy it, of course.”

“It’s different from what I’m used to, but…” He looks down, smooths the fabric with his palm. “It’s kinda nice, something like this. Um, and what do you think about the jeans?” He needs to direct the attention off him quickly.

“Oh, I love them. The others ended up fitting not quite right on me, but that’s how it goes.” They move from side to side, almost twirling. It’s cute. “I love these, though. Just a little long, but I’m used to it.”

“That’s how it always is. I can hem them for you, if you want. I usually hem mine.”

“And he sews,” they say, seemingly to themself, but they’re looking right at him. Embarrassing. “If you don’t mind, that’d be amazing. Either way, I’m probably getting them.”

“Good. You should. They fit well.”

“Yeah?” They glance back into their fitting room, likely examining themself in the mirror, and then back at him. “Okay, then. Definitely getting them.” With that and a cheeky grin, they go back into their dressing room to try on the rest of their clothes. Carmy follows suit, grateful to hide his embarrassed face.

Carmy heads to check out with the dark blue long sleeve, a pair of jeans, and the brown v-neck. They’ve decided on the pair of jeans they showed him earlier and a little purple tank-top he wishes he got to see on them.

“Will that be all for you today?” The cashier asks him as he checks out first. Even the cashiers here are pretty nice, he finds.

“Oh, their stuff, too.” He nods to them, who’s standing right next to him.

“Carmy.” They glare at him.

“What?” He feels himself smiling.

“You can’t do this to me.”

“C’mon.” He nudges them gently with his elbow. “It’s my present to you.”

“Oh, so the present wasn’t the breakfast? Or the cake? Or helping me pick these out?”

“Why can’t it be all of them?” He decides to stop this in its tracks and takes the clothes out of their hands, sliding it onto the counter. “Just these two, and that’ll be it.”

“Just you wait until your birthday hits,” they mutter darkly, shaking their head. “Just you wait.”

“I haven’t told you my birthday.” He pauses. “Right?”

“I’ll ask Richie.”

“No, you won’t.”

“You’re giving me no choice.”

“You could also just, I don't know, not ask—”

“I wouldn't have to if you didn't force my hand—”

“You guys are cute together,” the cashier comments with a smile, surely a harmless, meaningless thing, but it shuts the both of them up. Carmy can already feel the impact of it on his psyche, and he decides to tuck away the surging emotions to unpack later. At least, he'll try.

“You really didn't have to get those for me,” they tell him when they're exiting the store. “But I guess I should just be saying thank you. So…thank you.”

“Sure. I mean, it would've been better if it was wrapped and stuff, but…” He shrugs. “Had to get you a real present, not just food.”

“Not just food, my ass.” That makes him laugh. “It'll be nice to have something to remind me of this day, though. That's one of the nice parts of getting gifts. Everytime I wear these clothes, I'll think of you.”

“Good. Yeah, that's…good,” he finishes lamely. He nods like their words haven't flustered him, but he's sure they can tell. They laugh, and he can tell it's because of his reaction.

“I'm sorry that the cashier said that,” they say out of nowhere.

“Why're you apologizing? It's not your fault.” Any embarrassment he was feeling before is immediately replaced with a new, more potent sort of embarrassment. He was hoping they wouldn't mention it.

“I guess that's true. I don't know, I just…” They trail off. “Just hope it didn't upset you.”

“Not at all,” he lies, and he prays they believe it.

. . . . .

The metro is less crowded on the way home. They sit comfortably next to each other and watch the city pass them by. A part of Carmy mourns the closeness they had on the way there, but the other part tells him to get it together and keep his distance.

“I'mma take a nap,” they say with a yawn. Their cardigan and bag have been tossed onto the couch. The new clothes have been thrown into the laundry machine, and there's the muffled sound of running water. “Maybe we could smoke and watch a movie later, though.”

“Yeah, that sounds nice.” He peers into the fridge to check on the cake rounds. Just as he left them. “Have a good nap.”

“Thanks, Carm,” they reply sleepily. “Wouldn't be a good day if I didn't get to have a nice nap, after all.” With that, they shuffle into their room and shut the door behind them.

Carmy spends the next two hours flying around the apartment, baking, cooking, cleaning. The sun slowly sets as he goes. He keeps his body and hands moving in hopes that his head doesn't have a chance to catch up, but it manages to keep the pace. It always does.

The crumb coat's fucked up on the left, his first train of thought says. He inspects the surface, eyes following the circumference of the cake. There's a little loose crumb. With the edge of his spatula, he tucks the crumb away.

The faint smell of chocolate wafts up from the cold cake rounds. He's hunched over the kitchen island, hands reaching between dark chocolate frosting and cake. The afternoon sun casts harsh lights onto the cake, and it glistens. He genuinely can't remember the last time he's made a layered cake. He's never been much of a baker, anyhow.

You're going to disappoint them, his second train of thought interrupts, running parallel to the other one at full speed. Who do you think you are? You don't make cakes.

He leans back, inspects his work. The crumb coats are perfect.

Fuck off, he thinks back, triumphant. Look at that shit. He runs his finger along the spatula, picking up congealed crumbs and frosting. He licks it off, and it's delicious. And it tastes good, asshole. So shut the fuck up.

You're being a nuisance, the thoughts continue. Carmy's pops the crumb coats in the freezer for a quick set. They don't actually like any of this. They're just being nice to make you feel better.

They seemed happy to me, he thinks, but he's faltering. He's washing the dishes, and the sensation of the warm water feels distant. They loved the food I made.

Couldn't you tell they were lying? He doesn't understand why these thoughts are rampaging through his head now of all times. It's not unfamiliar, but it's inconvenient. Keep this up, and you'll actually be surprised when they drop you.

Without warning, a memory hits him . As his hands drip with soap, he's reminded of playing with Michael and Sugar in the summer when he was five. Or six, or seven, he's never quite sure. They were outdoors at a local park, and the heat made the metal of the playground searing hot to the touch.

He was blowing bubbles, and the sticky mixture from the bottle was getting all over his hands. In his memory, Carmy watches the way the iridescent bubbles floated away and left little circles on the surface of the plastic slide. He can't remember why he wasn't playing with the others. He can remember the sound of their laughing voices in the distance, gleeful and delighted without him. He thinks he tried to join in, but it didn't work. It often just didn't work, and it was all his fault.

The memory ends, and Carmy's finished washing the dishes.

This is working, he thinks to himself. His hands are dried out from the hot water and soap. I swear to you, it's working. So just stop. Okay?

There's no response. Good enough.

He hears the door opening as soon as he's putting the finishing touches on the cake. With a damp paper towel, he carefully swipes away stray drops of frosting that fell onto the cake stand. He thinks it's best described as if a tiramisu was turned into a devil's food cake. It's not the best cake he's ever made, but it's definitely up there in terms of looks. All the components of the cake tasted good separately, so he hopes it makes sense in his mouth as much as it did in his head.

“Have a nice nap?” He asks before he turns his head. They're standing in the hallway, bed hair hastily tied back.

“Sorta. It was okay.” Their eyes are glued onto the cake as they walk up to the island. “Is this…?”

“This is for you, yeah,” he finishes for them. They take a seat on one of the chairs at the island. “It's a, uh, devil's food cake with vanilla mascarpone cream on the inside. The outside's this coffee buttercream…” He trails off, not knowing what else to say. He could mention the dutch processed cocoa powder, the expensive vanilla bean pods, or the endless sifting, but it feels too gratuitous.

“Wow…” They're still staring, as if it's not quite real to them. “I can't believe this is for me. It almost looks too pretty to eat, but you know I can't wait to tear into this.”

“We could, uh, have it now, if you, if you want,” he says hesitantly.

“I don't know if I could wait.” Their smile grows wider. “You even put candles on it?”

“We don't have to light them or anything if you don't want to,” he adds quickly.

“The candles are the fun part. I don't mind that. The song is…okay I guess, but…” They give him an expectant, excited look. “Were you gonna sing for me?”

“...Only if you wanted to,” he mumbles, suddenly stricken with embarrassment.

“Would that be okay? If I wanted that?”

“I wouldn't mind.” Not if it's you.

“Okay. Then, yeah.” They pull out a lighter from their pocket. “I’d really like that.”

Carmy cuts the overhead lights before taking out his own lighter to help them light the rest of the candles. One by one, the dark room gradually illuminates until it's filled with a warm, orange glow. The flickering flames cast shifting shadows onto their smiling face and reflect into their glossy eyes.

“Ready?” He asks quietly.

“I'm ready,” they whisper.

Carmy doesn't really need to clear his throat, but he does so anyway. He can't recall the last time he sang happy birthday to anyone, let alone by himself. This is the first time he's ever sung in front of an audience, too.

I can do this, he thinks to himself. I can do this.

His voice is awkward and scratchy. He never uses it like this, has never sang for anyone in his life. His ears burn, and he hates the sound of his voice, but he reminds himself to focus on their delighted little smile and warm gaze. The room is far too quiet for his voice, making the words painfully clear.

“Happy birthday to you,” he finishes singing, voice trailing off awkwardly. He's more than ready to finish singing now. “Uh, make a wish…?”

“Right.” The two of them sit in the flickering candle light for a moment longer, the silence thick. Carmy watches their face, their eyes boring into the candles with an expression he can only describe as longing. Then, they blow out the candles with a decisive blow, and the room goes dark.

He moves to switch on the lights. When he turns back to look at them, tears are streaming down their face.

“Hey,” he says softly. He props his elbows on the counter, standing across from them and tilting his head to the side. They're not meeting his gaze, glazed eyes boring into the dripping candles. “What's wrong?”

“I'm sorry,” they whisper with a sniffle, and it sounds like a reflex. Something about them suddenly seems so much smaller. “I shouldn't be crying.”

“It's okay. I don't mind.” That makes them smile, even if it's shaky. “Was the singing too much?”

“No, it wasn't your singing,” they say with a laugh. “Your singing was lovely. It's just—I'm so happy. You made today so special.”

“Yeah?” He fights the urge to reach over and wipe their tears. “I'm glad. I wanted to make it good. I…” He hesitates. “...I didn't like the idea of you spending it alone.”

“I didn't either. And I thought I was going to have to be alone…but then you—then you took off work, and you made me breakfast, you went shopping with me—even got me clothes—and now this—” Another rush of tears gushes from their eyes, and they hastily wipe at it with their shirt.

“You've done way more for me. This is the least I could do.” Before he can stop himself, his hand is brushing hair out of their eyes. They freeze for a split second, eyes finally flickering up towards him. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“It's okay,” they whisper back. “Um…” They let out a shaky sigh, the sort of trembling sound that happens after crying too much. “I feel like I should explain.”

“You don't have to if you don't want to,” he assures them quickly, “but I…I'd like to know. If that's okay.”

“I want you to know. I, I do.” They open their mouth to keep talking, but shaky breaths continue to stifle them. It's hard to watch.

“Breathe,” he reminds them, quietly. He visibly takes in a deep breath, silently encouraging them to breathe with him. They follow suit, closing their eyes and taking a slow breath. Tears slip silently from their eyes. Gradually, their breathing becomes less of a staccato, evening out into something much more manageable.

“Thank you,” they murmur. He nods. They already sound a lot calmer. “I'm not sure where to start. I…I suppose I'll start with today.” Another deep breath. “I didn’t get a call from my parents today.”

“Ah…” The first missing piece.

“I knew they weren’t going to. But a part of me still hoped…” They stop and shake their head. “It's the first year that it's been like this.”

“What happened?”

“Uh…I went no contact with my family about a year ago.” Another pained, hollow laugh. The second piece. “I didn't even really want to—it was a complicated, shitty situation. My parents were being their usual shitty selves, and I just wanted them to apologize. It was over such a small thing, and, and I just…I don't know. I thought maybe I could fix things.” He's never seen them with such a heavy expression, etched with such weariness. “I just wanted them to apologize to me, Carm. That's all I wanted. And then they cut me off cold.”

Their voice is trembling again, and the tears are falling faster. The collar of their shirt is dark with moisture. Carmy hates that he doesn't know what to say. He hates just staring at them, silent as he tries to find the words.

Suddenly, he thinks of Michael.

“Michael never let me work in the restaurant,” he tells them. “That's why I went to culinary school. A big part of it, anyway. He just cut me off, didn't let me in no matter what I did, and it was…” He makes a vague hand gesture. “I felt insane. I was so fucking angry. I couldn't understand him. And I'm not saying that's anything like what you've been through, but…” He looks into their watchful eyes. “I'm sorry. I think I'm trying to say that I, that I understand. A little.”

“I…I appreciate that.” They give him a small, wobbly smile. He adores their smile, but seeing it through their tears twists something painfully in his chest. “He would've been lucky to have you. You're an excellent chef.”

“I am now, anyway.” He sighs. “Your family's missing out on you, too. You're…” Say it. Just say it. “You're a really wonderful person. I can't imagine…”

I can't imagine anyone looking at you and not loving what they see, he thinks suddenly, and he instantly realizes he can't say it. He can barely even comprehend that he just thought it.

He can't process this right now. This isn't the time.

“I keep trying to wrap my head around it all, wondering what I did wrong, what I could've done better… Sometimes, the conclusion I arrive at is that I must have done something to deserve this. That I just, I don't know, that maybe I'm just this permanent fuck-up, and…” They run a tired hand over their wet face, through their hair. “My parents fucked me up real good, man.”

There's something familiar about their words, and Carmy realizes it's because it sounds like him. He would've never guessed that under their easy-going smiles was a reflection of himself. He recognizes himself in their self-deprecation, the bone-deep pain. There was always a sense of sympathetic connection between the two of them, but he had no idea. He had no idea how far deep the mutual experiences went.

A part of him still can't believe that this is the truth, that this is what lies at their core, but then he remembers. He thinks about the night they were throwing up into the toilet. They were sobbing, crying into his shoulder about how much they hate themself.

“You know you didn't deserve it. Right?” Carmy's not sure when they started leaning in so close to each other. He's looking at their wet eyelashes with startling clarity. “You did all you could.”

“You don't know that.” Their words are so soft-spoken, but it still catches him off guard. “You don't know what happened.”

“You—” Irritation prickles inside him, his instincts itching to snap back, but he doesn't. He sees himself in them, and he holds back. “You're right. I don't know what happened. But I know you.” The shock is on their face as clear as day. “At least, I think I do.”

“I want to think you do, too,” they whisper. “But this—this messy bullshit is also me. I wish it wasn't. I wish you didn't have to see all this. I…don't want you to…think any less of me.”

“I don't think there's anything you could do to make me think less of you.” He doesn't resist dragging his thumb across a stray tear on their cheek. To his surprise, they lean into his touch. “Y'know when I almost burned down the apartment?”

“Oh my god.” They smile, and he feels their grinning cheek against his palm. “Yeah. Is it crazy to say I remember it fondly?”

“A little bit.” They laugh. It's quiet, but it's real. “Remember that talk we had after?”

“I do. Why?”

“You're allowed to mess up on onions,” he says softly. “It won't push me away.”

They stare at him for what feels like a long time. Their eyes refill with tears, but they don't spill. With a clammy hand, they shakily place their hand on top of his hand that's still cradling their wet cheek.

“Fucking onions,” they say finally with a wet laugh. Fresh tears drip onto his thumb, and he wipes them away again. As many times as it takes. “God damnit, Carmy.”

“No one deserves to have shitty parents, let alone ones that walk out on them.” He thumbs away more tears. “You being an imperfect person like everyone else doesn't justify that.”

“There must be something more I could've done,” they whisper. “Something I did wrong.”

“Maybe. But they're your parents, not the other way around. It's not your fault.”

“I know. I know that. I do. There just has to be a reason, because—fuck—the truth would just be too fucked up.”

“...And that is?”

It takes a long, still minute before they can get their words out.

“...It’s—it's that—” Their cries are verging on sobs, increasingly more staggered and uncontrollable. “It's that s-some kids—are just—some kids have parents that will never—never love—”

They can't finish. Their sobs have overtaken their whole body. Their body's hunched over the counter, curled into themself. Carmy can't think of a time where he's ever seen them crying so hard.

Without another word, Carmy pulls them into a hug.

They cry for a long time. Through it all, fleeting condolences pass Carmy by in his head, but they all feel too cheap, too meaningless. So all he does is hold them tight, letting them grab onto his shirt and soak the fabric on his shoulder. It's all he feels he can really do.

After a while, the tide subsides. He feels them wilting in his arms, exhausted from sobbing so violently. He doesn't actually want to let them go, but their sniffling nose sounds like it's completely stopped up.

“I'm gonna get you some tissues, ok?” He says quietly. They make a quiet noise of acknowledgement, and they pull back. He snatches up a box of tissues from the coffee table. He places it in front of them before grabbing them a glass of water.

“Thank you,” they mumble, voice scratchy. Carmy stands and watches as they blow through several tissues. The water gets downed instantaneously.

“Better?”

“Yeah. A lot better.”

“Good.”

“...I think, deep down, I know I didn't deserve what happened. Or just having shitty parents in general.” They sigh. “It's just easier to think that I do. That I deserve it.”

“...Yeah.” That resonates with a part of him he's not quite ready to acknowledge. “You're one of the kindest people I've ever met,” he admits quietly. “If someone like you deserves a shitty hand in life, I'm fucked.”

“Carmy…” Their smile is small, but genuine. “Thank you. I want to be able to genuinely believe that, one day. I'm going to try.”

“I know. I get it.”

“I know you do.”

That makes both of them smile, even if it's bitter.

“Thanks for telling me. About everything.”

“No, thank you for listening. For just being there for me.” They prop their chin in their hands, their elbows resting on the counter. “Y'know, this past year, I've been trying to find a sense of joy in all this mess. Sometimes it just feels so far away, like…like any happiness is just impossible. But I think I've found it. Rather, I've already found it.”

“Yeah?” Carmy looks at them expectantly, but he never expected this—

“I found you,” they tell him.

“...” He immediately fixes his shocked expression. He's at a loss for words.

Me?

“I never found a chance to mention it, but…my parents are the reason I decided to live with you. That's why I wanted to be your roommate, even though we were strangers.” They shrug shyly. “My lease was up on my last place. I was gonna go home, but then all that stuff happened at the last minute, and…yeah. I needed to find a place to live.”

“Seriously?” They just nod. “Damn. Uh…Yeah, that's fucking crazy. I had no idea.”

“At the time, I was miserable. I kept thinking to myself, ‘I can't believe how shitty this situation is!’ Don't get me wrong, it was fucking awful, but…it led me to you, so…it wasn't really all that bad, in the end. I got lucky.”

Fucking hell, he thinks to himself. Fuck.

“If you hadn't roomed with me, I wouldn't have been able to come back home for my brother's restaurant,” he says, mostly because he's so embarrassed that he swears his whole body's red at this point. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. “I think I'm the lucky one.”

“Can't we both be lucky?”

“I guess we can. Just doesn't seem very realistic.”

“Little too late to say that. It's already real.”

“...There's no other shoe?”

“Not that I know of. I think the other shoe's already dropped for us a while ago. Surely there's no other shoes left?”

“I hope not. I don't know if I could take another one.”

“Me neither.”

“...”

“Do you…want to eat your cake now?”

“Fuck, oh my god—I completely forgot! Yes!”

Just as Carmy planned, the flavors go perfectly together. Even though he knew it was going to be delicious, when he takes the first bite of the cake, relief washes over him. They seem to be overjoyed, inhaling the cake at dangerous speeds.

“You're gonna hurt yourself if you eat that fast,” he observes, both amused and concerned.

“Can't talk. Need to eat this.” That makes him laugh so abruptly he nearly gets cake up his nose. “This is the best birthday cake I've ever had, both visually and taste-wise.”

“I'm glad. Like I said, I'm not really a baker, but…I make an alright cake.”

“You make a fantastic cake.” They’ve got a bit of frosting on the corner of their mouth. “It doesn't get much better than this—eating a cake made by you.”

“Because I'm a chef, you mean?”

“No, not that. Not just that, anyway,” they amend with a cheeky grin. “Because you're my best friend.”

You're my best friend.

…

I'm their best friend, he repeats to himself. I'm their best friend.

He thinks about crying. He won't cry, but he thinks about it.

“Oh,” he replies intelligently. “...Really?”

“Y-Yeah. Unless, uh, you don't—”

“You're my best friend too,” he blurts out, and the anxiety on their face fades away into a relieved, beautiful smile.

“Thank god. That would've been pretty awkward if you didn't…” They shake their head.

“I've never been anyone's best friend before,” he confesses.

“Seriously?” They recover from the shock quickly. “Lucky me, then.”

“I thought you established we were both the lucky ones.”

“Oh, right.” They chuckle. “Lucky both of us, then.”

Carmy thought that life would always be the same. He thought that he was fated to a routine of nausea and nightmares, never quite close enough to reach a rest point. He thought that he was okay with it being his fate, because he never knew anything else.

He thought that loneliness, cigarettes, and memories would be enough, because it always stays the same. Nothing ever changes.

Until them.

He thought he had outgrown happiness, that his body had grown accustomed to living without it. That there was no longer space in his heart to withstand the weight of joy. But as he sits here with his roommate, chatting and laughing over a cake he made for them, he finds that's not true.

His capacity for happiness had never left. It had been there all along.

And with that, something in him lets go.

Carmy sees it all at once. It starts from the beginning—he sees the first day he met them, an initially hesitant meeting gone surprisingly well. He sees the first time the two of them smoked together, deliriously laughing through shared smoke. He sees them in the mornings, messy hair and wrinkled t-shirts. He sees them in nothing but an apron. He sees them in tight black clothes that leave little to the imagination. He sees them laughing at a joke that he didn’t think was all that funny.

He sees them in his dreams, red tomato puree bleeding from their gums. He sees them holding his trembling hands in theirs, soothing him back down from the storm in his hand. He sees them comforting him through his tears. He sees them sobbing, hot tears on their cheek and his hand. He sees them heaving into the toilet, whispering that they want to know him. He sees himself, embracing them tightly in his arms.

He sees it all. He knows that he can't avoid it anymore.

Carmy is completely, undeniably in love with them, and there is absolutely nothing that he can do to make that realization disappear.

…Some things, he understands, refuse to stay the same.

@zorrasucia @carmenberzattosgf @carmenbrzatto @thehouseofevangelista

#carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear #jeremy allen white #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you #the bear fanfiction #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy the bear #the bear fx #my fics #alexithymia fic #GOD. IT'S FINALLY HERE. THIS ONE'S A BEAST.#ch 6 is gonna be the climax..... it's gonna happen yall. it's finally here. hahahaha #anyway this one took so long to write because it was so revealing for me... as i'm sure yall have guessed. sigh.

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my-insanity-is-an-artform · 1 day

Text

Woe, Crack Baby Shitten au be upon thee.

(@bamsara 's little doodle of Nari being dubbed Cult Babysitter and holding a little lamb irrevocably changed my brain chemistry. So of course, I'm now making it everyone else's problem with the headcanon that Narinder is good with children of all ages.)

A couple of months before Lamb gets captured, they meet another lamb or a very small flock that have to split up very quickly after meeting since there's more chance of the lamb species surviving if they aren't all together. In the meeting, Lamb agrees to try continue the lamb species and gets pregnant via *magic* or afab.

Of course, all of the lambs are captured and killed with Lamb being the last, still a few months away from giving birth.

But then they are chosen and resurrected by The One Who Waits.

Fun fact: a fetus can survive for a few minutes after the death of the carrier. (Also this is a world with magic and gods in it. Logic means nothing to me.)

Lamb starts their cult, crusades across the lands and meets all sorts of allies and enemies. All while quietly mourning their entire species and the child that never would be.

Right up until they go into labour.

The baby is lamb through and through with soft wool, wide eyes, tiny cloven hooves and floppy ears.

But the influence of the crown is blazingly obvious since the baby's wool is jet black and they have three red eyes.

I can't tell which would be funnier. Lamb giving birth in The Lonely Shack or while they are physically in The Gateway just post-beating Leshy. Like they were in active labour right throughout fighting Leshy and had no idea. Either way, it's Shocked Pikachu .jpeg all around. (My fucking KINGDOM for a doodle of this.)

Various dot point shenanigans under the cut

There are two ways to go about this. But either way, Baby is not staying in the Cult. Too dangerous, especially if word gets to the Bishops about there being another lamb. So Lamb can and will speed-run this shit. So it takes them about 4-6 years to fully defeat the Bishops.

Baby stays with Ratau:

Lamb goes and yells at TOWW. They are panicking because they have no idea how to raise a probably-half-god baby.

Narinder has no idea what happened right up until Lamb comes in screaming about him being a Baby Daddy and child support.

Ratau is Grandpa now. This is his fate. He embraces the Grandpa life.

Baby learns how to play knucklebones before they can speak.

Shrumy tries to wager with Lamb/Ratau for the whole Baby. Once and only Once.

Baby's first word is dice. Or die.

Baby worships TOWW, but they are a Baby and don't really comprehend worship so the small shrine gets a lot of flowers, neat rocks and some drawings. Narinder always gives a lot of gold for them. And No, it's not favouritism. Shut up.

Baby knows curses. This is concerning for everyone except Baby.

Baby gets a little TOWW doll. It's their favourite, it goes everywhere with them and washing it is a nightmare for everyone involved.

Baby is jokingly referred to as TOWW's most Devoted Follower because of the doll.

↑ this action will have consequences.

When Baby is not so baby, they make stuff out of their wool for TOWW and for his disciples. Or asks their parent to help them make stuff.

Cue Lamb awkwardly giving the three some very wonky scarves or hats.

Baal loves it.

Aym refuses to take his off. Ever.

Narinder is actually upset cause his doesn't fit. He's too big. He had to wear it like a little ring.

Or Baby stays/is brought to the Gateway ala Aym and Baal situation:

If Lamb gives birth in the Gateway, everyone is getting a free midwifery education and free trauma. The cats want a refund.

Ya know when a baby instinctively clasps their little hand around a finger and it's like a crime to pull away? That but with Narinder's big ass claw that Baby can only barely cling to.

Aym cries the first time he holds Baby.

Baal straight-up refuses to give Baby back for a good hour.

Lamb visits at least once a day.

Lamb also brings baby things since a baby will do what a baby will do.

Depending on how old Aym and Baal were when they were gifted, Narinder is either learning all of this for the first time or is reminded of how challenging baby care can be.

Narinder purrs = a zonked Baby.

Baby's first word is Vessel.

Baby is taught to fight. Lamb doesn't like it but accepts it.

Baby has a little lamb doll. It is only due to the fact the afterlife doesn't have dirt that they avoid the nightmare of trying to wash it.

Baby is jokingly referred to as TOWW's most Devoted Follower since they refuse to be parted with him for long.

↑ this action will have consequences.

Lamb teaches Baby about being a lamb and if Aym and Baal join in, well who are they to deny their child's only friends/guardians this?

Narinder and Lamb figure out how to get Baby to teleport to the Living World and Baby gets to visit Grandpa Ratau.

Post-game shenanigans.

Narinder: Give me back my crown. Lamb: Ok. Sure. Narinder: I will now sacrifice my most devoted follower (the Lamb) for my freedom. Lamb: *Kill Bill sirens*

Lamb somehow doesn't kill Aym and Baal and instead kidnaps them via Indoctrination Circle out of spite/ reluctance to hurt them.

Narinder feels betrayed that the Lamb would refuse like this and kidnap his acolytes. He was going to resurrect them! He can't fully commit to raising a child while being the God of Death.

Lamb feels betrayed that Narinder would want to kill their child. After all they've been through together! After the way they saw him treat Baby with such gentleness and now he wants to kill them?!

This comes out in the very final moments right before Lamb goes to give the final blow.

Narinder: You are a vengeful false idol and a traitor! Lamb: At least I'm not a monster who wanted to kill my own child! Narinder: Wait. What.

This devolves into a massive argument with divorced-couple vibes.

Narinder is insulted and a bit hurt they thought he would kill his own child.

Lamb is hurt that Narinder would just demand their sacrifice without even talking to them about the whole situation.

Either way the lesson learned is Narinder needs to be more blunt and Lamb needs to not jump to conclusions.

So they are left with a newly usurped Narinder and a newly crowned Lamb. Oops.

Baby is with Ratau when all of this is going down.

Baby is happy their family is all together properly. Baby is Not Happy about this whole cult thing demanding attention from Their Baba.

The Cult is baffled by the sight of their leader with both a baby and a Spouse? Bitterly Divorced Ex? Estranged Co-parent?! What ever it is, most of them have elected not to touch the whole situation with a 10ft barge pole.

Baby learns what the word Father is and how that word refers to Narinder.

Baby calls Narinder Father/Papa/Daddy. Instant KO.

Narinder somehow gains a small hoard of children that like to follow him. Baby Does Not Approve.

Baby also Does Not Approve of this newly formed rift between their parents.

Cue Parent Trap level of Shenanigans.

Aym and Baal are recruited.

The Hoard of Children are recruited. Baby now Slightly Approves.

Narinder and Lamb have an Actual Conversation after the 18th time they get locked in the confessional together.

This of course evolves into Narilamb.

Bishops are saved from purgatory.

Despite all attempts otherwise, Baby is introduced to them.

Shocked Pikachu .jpeg x4

Maybe after a few more years, not-so-baby Baby wants a sibling.

This got so much longer than I thought but yes. Shitten Shenanigans: Accidental Child Acquisition flavoured.

#cult of the lamb #cotl #Shitten Shenanigans Au #cotl lamb #cotl narinder #narilamb #true devotion #Cotl Aym #Cotl Baal #Cotl Ratau #accidental child acquisition #at least on Narinder's part #long post #I once again do not go here #this got longer than I thought it would #Bam's brain is SO wrinkled and I want to lick it

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 2 days

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I totally love ur interpretation of alphas smelling kinda nasty it's not my thing but it's very cool and fun!!! (Pls share where you disagree with me I love hearing other opinions)

For some reason to me, omega! Price is fresh baked bread. Like it just seems correct to me idk why

Beta! Price is herbal. Maybe w some very slight powdery notes. But mostly like tea and old books. The smell is on the warmer side even tho I tend to see beta scents as more... cold? If that makes any sense

Alpha! Price is either a sharp, pine scent. Like a Christmas tree farm. OOOOOR this really yummy perfume I have called Jazz Club by replica. It's such a good scent and I feel like either price or ghost fit the vibe of it.

-🔪

Interesting!!! Also Pine Price? Yes yes??!??! 🫵🫵🫵

(I will be highjacking this to post my own hcs!)

(UPDATED) The 141's Scents in an A/B/O AU: Depending on Presentation

Follow-up on these two posts:

As a reminder, these two posts follow a theory of mine that:

Alphas smell so strong and overpowering, bordering on just smelling Bad™️;

Betas smell natural and comforting (average, no major complaints);

Omegas smell sickly sweet and so overwhelming it could make someone ill.

Johnny

Omega Johnny smells like the syrup that surrounds and preserves canned fruit. Canned peaches especially.

Beta Johnny smells like the sea. Salt water, seaweed… that kind of thing.

Alpha Johnny smells like shoe shiner, or another product like that. Maybe wet paint or varnish?

Kyle

Omega Kyle smells like something warm and cosy and gooey that melts in your mouth. My brain is saying honey or honeycomb, caramel or toffee maybe?.

Beta Kyle smells like freshly cut grass, and ivy. Especially when the freshly cut grass is damp too.

Alpha Kyle smells like nearly vinegary and acidic. The best way I can say it is... strong wine that has just started fermenting.

Simon

Omega Simon smells like talc/baby powder. Makes you wanna bury your face in him and sniff like you do to a newborn baby.

Beta Simon smells like old books with yellowed pages. Not necessarily musty or bad.

Alpha Simon smells of black pepper.

ALTERNATIVELY:

Omega Ghost wears scent blockers. You'd never know what he smells like because he doesn't let you. (It's vanilla sugar)

Beta Ghost smells of freshly carved wood furniture, unfinished and unvarnished, still full of splinters and rough edges.

Alpha Ghost smells strongly of burning. Like a campfire, a forest fire, maybe gasoline or sulphur.

John

Omega John smells like lemon merengue. Sickly sweet and tangy at once, with a softness that melts in your mouth.

Beta John smells like a forest, maybe a rain forest, but I could also see him smell of pine and very obviously so. But the kind of pine that people sometimes mistake for mint?

Alpha John smells like rusted iron and dirt... Which a lot of people confuse with fresh blood. Especially when he's angry and his scent mutates.

#asks #🔪 anon #141 a/b/o #a/b/o headcanons #cod headcanons #simon riley headcanons #kyle garrick headcanons #johnny mactavish headcanons #john price headcanons #john price #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley

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silverameco · 19 hours

Text

Angel/Demon AU - @wolfstarmicrofic - 834 words

Remus was sitting on a bench just outside of the school, watching Harry talk with his friends, when a beautiful creature approched him. They were wearing something completely inappropriate for the middle of the afternoon, black miniskirt, fishnets thighs and platform boots. Long black hair, porcelain skin, smudged eyeliner and fiery grey eyes. But most of all, they had that unmistakable charm and aura that could only belong to dark beings. Remus himself felt drawn to them.

He had to admit, he was surprised. And curious. He didn't encounter a lot of demons these days, most of them got bored of tormenting humans when they already did it better themselves. So they tended to stick to souls and their appearance on earth became rarer over the centuries.

This one though, sat gracefully next to him, charming smile on their face.

"Hi handsome, what's your pretty name ?"

The tone was obviously flirtatious, something that, Remus suspected, was working miracles with humans. Not that he wasn't affected, but still it sounded a bit superficial.

"I'm Remus. And yours ?" he smiled anyway. "What are you doing here ?"

The fire in the demon's eyes seemed to grow, as well as their smile, that turned a bit hungry. "Name's Sirius. And, well, i guess that's for you to decide, Remus." They said his name with a syrupy sweet voice.

"No. I meant what are you doing on earth, demon ?" Remus smirked.

Their fake smile dropped and their eyes widened, but otherwise they just laughed. You could count on demons to not be deterred by anything.

"I thought you were human !"

"Yeah, I could tell."

"Well, what are you ? I've never seen you before." Their gaze seemed to scrutinize him.

"I'm an angel."

The demon - Sirius - visibly recoiled at that. They were properly suprised now. "One of the big bosses ? What are you doing on earth ?!"

Remus laughed. "I'm not that kind of angel. I'm a guardian angel. It's my job to be on earth.".

They seemed to relax at that. "Your job." They repeated in a mocking tone. "Angels, always so well-behaved." they sighed, an amused smile on their face. "So, who's your lucky human then ?"

Remus glanced back towards Harry. He hadn't even noticed that he stopped looking at him. That could not be good.

"That kid over there. Unruly hair, crooked glasses."

"No way !" Sirius seemed delighted. "That's James' son !"

Remus was confused now. How could this demon know Harry's dad ? "You- what ? How do you know that ?"

"James is my human friend." they said like it was nothing. "I find him every few lifetimes."

"Well, I fear you might be a bit late in this one." Remus answered in an apologetic voice. "He died already."

"Oh. Well he does have the tendency to die stupidly young." Sirius seemed lost in thoughts now.

That's when Remus remarked the parents waiting for their kids outside of the school, and their wary looks towards them. Or towards Sirius more specifically, seeing as they could not see him.

"Hey, Sirius. If you're staying, do you mind making yourself invisible before a worried mother calls the cops on you ?"

"Whoops." then they proceeded to do just that. "So when do we start ?"

Remus whirled around, taken aback. "What ?"

Sirius put their head on his shoulder with a genuine smile. "Well, I thought maybe I could help you, since I'm here."

Remus couldn't help it, he laughed. It was a ridiculous idea. "Demons don't help guardian angels ! They rather make our jobs harder." he said with a pointed look.

"Nah, you must know better than me that the humans' biggest ennemies are themselves. We're just having a little fun."

Well, he couldn't argue with that logic. Before he could find any answer, Sirius all but crawled on his lap, fluttering their eyelashes at him.

"Please Remus. Promise I'll be helpful. I'm just a bored eternal being. And I'd never harm James' kid."

There was only so much one could endure before they caved in, right ? Even as an angel. Remus agreed before he could think this through. "Yeah, ok."

"Great ! Let's go, he's leaving !"

Harry was indeed finally going home. As he stood up to follow him, Sirius climbed him to settle on his shoulders. He sighed.

"What are you doing ?"

"Making sure you don't forget me."

Remus hadn't planned on starting his mission with a beautiful and clingy demon on his shoulders, but he figured he didn't mind that much.

#this was so much fun #i think they're adorable #demon sirius #angel remus #they/them pronouns for sirius #silv writes things #wolfstar microfic #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #marauders #marauders era

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starheavenly · 21 hours

Note

If I may ask, how do you draw transformers and what’s the step process in your way of designing them as you do for your Zenith au? It’s hard finding good tutorials or guides to drawing these suckers and my attempts, especially the face, are BUGGING me

Honestly like everything else it's just a learning process! This might be advice that sucks but honestly learning 3D art has helped me draw transformers a lot! Once you start visualizing everything in a 3D space you're able to draw cubes (honestly half what transformer designs are) really easy.

Doing studies and getting references is also super important. I recommend getting a character from the comics and making a reference sheet of them. See how they're put together, small details about the shapes (this is when you can pick and choose what design elements to keep) Here's my personal study of Deadlock:

Even in my own study you can see my knowledge of 3D shapes helps a lot. Once you do it for one character you'll notice a lot of characters have very similar design features. Once you learn to draw Tailgate's face you can draw Rewind's, Cerebros, Blast Off, etc. A LOT of the faces and bodies are similar. And of course... Practice. I have easily drawn over 100 robots in the last 4 months. If you're drawing and studying everyday you will improve.

But funny enough the Zenith designs all started because I wanted designs that were easier to draw since they're very simplified and rounded shapes, a lot like TFA. They're for when I'm feeling lazy and just wanna draw some simple fun designs! How I design them? Ehhh I just look at every gen and pick and choose what I like and what I can add. Idk really know how to explain my design process, music and scribbling I guess.

Idk if this helps at all but good luck!!

#sawyersez #transformers

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justagamerandaweeb · 2 days

Text

Peer Pressure - Modern AU! Gyutaro x Reader

There isn't a lot of writing for this sexy MF. And seeing that I've only made a smut with this dude once, why not give him another one?

Art by @rasshu-benaio, divider by @mikeykuns, And MDNI banner by @roseschoices

The following smut includes: sex (duh), choking, blowjob, cum swallowing, rough sex, usage of aphrodisiacs, drugged sex, dry humping, doggystyle, missionary, nipple sucking, slight degradation, a lot of f-bombs (thanks to Gyutaro's vocab), female ejaculation, and ass smacking.

Gyutaro puts his car in park as he looks at you and says, "I can't believe you dragged me to be here." You pat his arm as you responded to him, "Come on, it'll be fun! Besides, you need to get out more." You unbuckled the seatbelt, and got out of the car. "Yeah, if you consider talking to people you don't know, getting drunk, and regretting your choices the next day fun."

"And that, my friend, is the best part about college parties." You said, having a puerile smile on your face. He scoffs as he follows you to the front door of the big house that was owned by Michikatsu, and rung the doorbell. You both waited for the door open, and then heard the sound of the lockset unlocking, and the door opened.

It was Kaigaku who opened the door, wearing a onyx colored jacket with a black shirt under it and black ripped jeans. "Oh shit, hey guys! I didn't think you two would show up." He said, a little stupefied that you both actually came. "That's what I had in mind, but this rat insisted that we go." He said, pointing directly down at you.

"Hey! You hush, you praying mantis! All you do is stay in your dorm and play video games! You clearly don't have anything better to do." You clapped back at him, unaware that he was about to slap you on the back of your head. Kaigaku chuckles as he comments, "Well, at least y'all here now. Come inside, we got food, drinks, and some games we're about to play." He walked upstairs as Gyutaro smacked your head.

You held the back of your head as you exclaimed, "Ow! What was that for!?" He looks at you as he goaded, "That's for calling me a praying mantis." And smacks your rear, making you yelp. "Let's get this party over with so I can go back to my dorm." And went inside. You grumbled as you had no choice but to follow him.

Once they both made it upstairs, they were taken aback by how many people were there. Give or take, you both expected the Hantengu brothers, Douma, Hakuji, Kaigaku, Nakime, and Michikatsu to be here, but not the Hashira Club, excluding Gyomei.

"Whoa..." (Y/N) elicited.

"Yeah, mostly the people that we know are here. Even the others from the Hashira club. Supposedly this is a "Private party", as Michi calls it. So, uh... nothing much else to say other than have fun, I guess." And walks away. Shortly after, Gyutaro decided to sit on the couch, and pull out his phone.

You pouted as you trotted up to him, and yanked his phone away from his hands. He stayed there for a few seconds, and his neck snapped at you as he said, "Give me my phone."

"No."

He stands up and walks up to you, towering over you as he repeats himself, "Give me my phone." sounding more aggravated that time. You put his phone in your back pocket, and crossed your arms with a juvenile smile on your face as you repeated, "No."

A thick vein popped up on his forehead as he tried to reach for his phone by groping your ass, but you quickly backed up away from his as you waved your finger at him and said, "Ah, ah, ah, you can only have it back if you socialize with the others."

His eyes were slanted down to visualize his anger as he responded, "And if I say no?" You giggled as you said, "Then I'll break your phone." Gyutaro was about to say something crazy, but he sighs and rolls his eyes in defeat as he says, "Let's get this shit over with." A smile crept up to your face as he said, "Don't start."

"I'm sorry, I just can't help it." She said as she started to walk around, and he followed her. The first person they went up and talk to, was Hakuji. (Y/N) liked him as he was respectful to her. If anything, he was respectful to every woman he ever came across.

He was talking to one of the people from the Hashira club, he had yellow hair with red streaks at the end, and a small ponytail at the back of his head. Both of them were talking about... whatever college boys talk about during parties.

"Hey guys!" (Y/N) shouted out at the duo, and they both turned their attention to them. "Oh, hey (Y/N), Gyutaro." Hakuji said as he hugged her, and then gave Gyutaro a fist bump. "How you two doin'? I honestly thought you two were gonna stay on campus. Well, Gyutaro, was gonna stay on campus."

"Yeah, but luckily I dragged him to be here so he can be more social." She said with a smile on my face that reads, I'm proud that I did this. "Oh, well, in that case, welcome to the party," Hakuji stated as he patted (Y/N)'s, and Gyutaro's shoulders. "I take it you both met Kyojuro? He's the second in command of the Hashira club at the university."

The fiery-haired man had a bright smile on his face as he reached his hand out to both of them as he introduced himself, "Hi, name's Kyojuro Rengoku." (Y/N) immediately felt warm to his presence, something about his aura just made her feel like they've known each other since they were kids, while Gyutaro was deadpanned from all this, he just wanted his phone back, not to talk to these people.

(Y/N) shook his hand as he carried on the conversation, "So, I heard you're name is (Y/N), right? Nice name." (Y/N) chuckles as she responds, "Thank you." His attention changed from her, to Gyutaro, and so he extended his hand toward him, and he just looked at it. "C'mon Gyutaro, don't leave him hanging." (Y/N) commanded him as he sighed through his nose, and shook his hand. "Hey."

"Hey, nice to meet you. You two enjoying the party?" He questioned both of them, seeing that they came to him, and Hakuji trying to start a conversation. "Oh, we just got here. Gyutaro wanted to sit down and be on his phone, so I'm confiscating it until he's socialized with enough people."

Kyojuro hums as he acknowledges (Y/N)'s response, and says, "Well, that's an interesting way to make your friend sociable. But, if it works, it works. You two want a drink while we're at this? I don't mind getting them for you." He said, pointing his index finger at both of them while holding his cup.

(Y/N) made a brief inhale, but didn't get the chance to speak as speak as Kyojuro overlapped her and said, "Y'know what, you don't have to say anything, I'll go get y'all a drink!" And he trotted away. Hakuji elicts a nose laugh as he then looked at both of them and clears his throat and says, "So... How are you two doin'?"

"We're doing good, thank you for asking." (Y/N) stated as she was tapping her shoes on the floor, hearing the overlapping conversations around them. "That's good to hear. But, can you almost believe that this is our final year? Just goes to show how much time has passed by so fast." He said as he took a swig of his cup.

The thought didn't process in her mind, but when it did, her eyes were extremely widened as she stammered, "Holy shit, you're right. How long has it been since we applied to this place?"

"If I remember correctly, about three years."

Thankfully, (Y/N) didn't have a drink in her hand, 'cause she would've dropped it after realizing she's been in this university for this long. "That's... Man." (Y/N) felt like she just had an entire revelation at the fact, and Hakuji softly patted her back as he consoled her, "I know. But, it's our last year. Make some memories while you still have the time."

"I guess so..." (Y/N) mutters out as shortly after their conversation, Kyojuro walks up behind them as he is holding two red cups. "Here ya go!" Gyutaro and (Y/N) grabbed the cups and Gyutaro immediately took a sip of it while (Y/N) looked in the cup to see a goldish-yellow liquid inside. "O-Oh... Is this beer?" (Y/N) asked Kyojuro as she was watching it slowly slosh around.

"Of course! We're at a party, it's expected to have a strong beverage at the party. Unless you want me to go get you a soft drink, which I can do." He said as he extended his hand out as if he were requesting her to give him the cup. "Oh, no no no no, I can drink it. It's just that I've never had a drink before."

All three of them looked at you with surprise. Hakuji softly laughs as he exclaimed, "Well shit. Well, here's to your first drink at a university party. And here I thought, that you drunk at the past parties we were in."

"Just because I have a red cup in my hand, doesn't mean I'm drinking." (Y/N)'s eyes trail down to the cup and she brings it up to her nose as she softly sniffs it as she softly recoils back from the smell. It had a malty smell to it, which felt alien to her. She glanced up at Kyojuro as she asked him, "You didn't lace anything in this, did you?"

Kyojuro elicits a dramatic gasp as Hakuji almost choked on his own drink and Gyutaro continued to drink. "Now I would never roofie a vulnerable woman at a party! That would tarnish my reputation! I promise, it's just beer, nothing else." Kyojuro reassured her as she puckered her lips, and took a small sip.

Her face immediately cringed at the taste, it was bitter, and had a tangy taste to it. But she didn't want to be embarrassed in front of everybody spitting it out, so she mustered up the courage, and swallowed the booze that was in her mouth, making her physically and verbally shiver when she did.

"Ugh..." Her eyes scowled and her bottom lip was puckered as she looked at Kyojuro, and formed a weird smile as she raised the cup up. Kyojuro smiled as he bumped his cup into hers and took a sip of his drink.

(Y/N) took one last sip of her cup, and placed it on the counter as she shivered and vigorously shook her head. Hakuji cheered for her as he patted her back and said, "Not bad finishing your first drink. Honestly, I thought you would stop after the third or fourth sip."

"I considered it. But, I'm not a coward." (Y/N) uttered out before she softly burped and groaned. "But, what should we do now?" Hakuji was about to talk, but flinched when he heard the sound of someone talking behind him, "Hakuji-dono! I want to talk to your friends!~"

Oh shit. They all thought. Hakuji felt someone's hand rest on his shoulder and turned around to see Douma towering above him. "Hey.~" All three of them can speak for each other and say they hate— no, not hate, despised Douma as a whole. His narcissistic personality, having little regard for people and how they feel, and his shit-eating smile that was latched onto his face made him the most disliked student of the whole university, and a well-deserved reason for that matter.

"Douma." Hakuji uttered. Douma scruffs his hair up, which made Hakuji pop a vein on his forehead, his fist balled up as if he was about to sock him in his jaw, but he had to refrain from making a scene as someone would record this, post it online, and he would get in trouble.

"Why so hostile? We're at a party, we're supposed to have fun, right? Gyutaro, (Y/N), Fireboy, isn't that what parties are supposed to be?" Gyutaro, Kyojuro and (Y/N) all looked at each other and (Y/N) decided to take the initiative to speak as acknowledged, "Y-Yeah, essentially."

Douma does an annoying chuckle as he responds, "See? Even they get it. So, why can't you?" Hakuji inhales through his nose, and lets out a shaky exhale as he was trying his hardest not to punch him in the jaw. "As a matter of fact, you two, follow me. We're gonna have fun with the brothers. At least they know what to do at a party." And started to walk the other direction.

Gyutaro followed him, and before (Y/N) followed suit, she patted his shoulder, and said to him, "Just one more year, and you don't have to see him again." Hakuji scoffs as he says, "Yeah, hopefully not." And he touches her hand.

(Y/N) felt Kyojuro touch her shoulder and he said, "Don't let him take advantage of you, alright?" "Agreed." Hakuji said. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna give him the chance." She smirks as she says, "Don't worry. I won't let him." She slid her hand off his shoulder as she started to follow Douma and Gyutaro.

She walks by a few people she knew, along said hi to the people who were in the Hashira club, until she got to Douma, Gyutaro and the Hantengu brothers. Out of the four, Urogi was the first to come up to her and hug her as he said, "(N/N)! How you doin'? You enjoyin' the party so far?" He said in a childish tone.

"It's... Eh. It's okay, I guess. Not much to go around though." (Y/N) responded to him as she Urogi chuckled and said, "Well, we can fix that for you. We're about to play a game soon so, it's good timing that you came along." He said, playfully punching her arm.

(Y/N) rubs her bicep before following Urogi to see what the others are doing. Aizetsu was just sitting on the couch as he was watching Sekido and Karaku playing Mortal Kombat. They were playing as Ethernal Mileena and Hellfire Scorpion. It was the last round, so any one of them could win. She leaned down on the couch as she watched the fight unravel. It was mostly blocking and jumping, mixed in with a few anti-air uppercuts and a few combos here and there.

Both of the character's health were very low, and all it took was one immaculate combo for the other character to fall. Mileena tried to do a ball roll, but Scorpion blocked it as he does an overhead flame heel, and engulfs himself in flames using Flame Aura.

Him doing Flame Aura stunned her long enough for him to do a three hit combo, teleports behind her, hits her two more times before throwing his spear and shouting, "COME HERE!!!" He jumps over her, does a jump front punch, hits her with an Eternal Vengeance combo, does a Flameport, grabs her while she's falling, and the camera does a brief slow down as they show Scorpion slash Mileena's neck open, slashes her stomach, and uppercut her head, practically exploding, thus ending this Kombat off with a Brutality.

(Y/N)'s eyes widened from the sudden gore as Sekido quickly stood up and boasted against his brother sitting down. "Get shit on, you bitch! Sorry ass Mileena user!" He said, getting into his personal space. "This coming from the guy who uses Scorpion, and Flame Fist Liu Kang."

Sekido's eyebrows frowned down as he had his fist above and behind his head as Karaku quickly retracted his statement and said, "But, you won, so gg." Sekido's face softened, but not a lot for his angered expression was still plastered on his face, but he backed away for Karaku so he could sit back up properly. "Now that that's well and done, hey (Y/N), how you doin'?"

(Y/N) shrugged her shoulders as she uttered, "Living. Not complaining though." She said as she did a soft sniff shortly after. "Ain't nothin' wrong with living, I'll tell you that much. But you know what's better than living?" He grabs something out of his pocket, and reveals it to be a box of chocolates that had the cover Tabs on it. "Living like there's no tomorrow."

(Y/N) cringed at the banal sentence, as Karaku vaulted over the couch, he pointed to her, and Gyutaro. "You two are gonna play a little game, where it involves eating this delicacy that's in my hand. Now, before I give you two these, did you two eat?"

(Y/N) and Gyutaro both looked at each other before they shook their heads and said, "No." "That my friend," he snaps his finger, "is what we need to do first. Aizetsu," Aizetsu's head perked up as he looked up at his older brother, "Fetch these two some grub before I give them a good night."

"Do they have to? I mean, are they even on that level of relations? I know they're dormmates, but—" Aizetsu's yammering was interrupted when he felt Sekido twist his ear and he quickly said, "Okay! Okay! I'll give them some food!" Sekido lets go of his ear, and he chuckles as he looks at Urogi and say, "You, me, MKX, now."

"I'm down." Urogi said as he grabbed the other controller and sat down on the floor as he picks his character. "C'mon you guys, I'll get you some food." Aizetsu said in a melancholic tone as he stood up off the couch and walked to the kitchen. (Y/N)'s eyes slightly widened at the variety of foods that was on the table and counters. Ranging from vegan, vegetarian, plants, meat, dessert, the whole shebang.

"Grab a plate and enjoy yourselves for the time you have left. Whatever happens for these next couple of minutes will be, you're going to need it." And walks away. They both grabbed a plate and both of them grabbed their own assortment of foods. Due to Gyutaro having a high metabolism, he has a lot of food on his plate, and (Y/N) had some food, along with sweets on hers.

They both go back to watch the brothers play games as they sat down on the floor and began to eat. As they were eating, (Y/N) takes Gyutaro's phone out of her back left cheek pocket, and tapped his shoulder with it. He takes it and continues to eat as she says, with her mouth full, "Yow wekom." And he scoffs, but has a soft smirk on his face.

(Y/N) elicited a sigh of satisfaction as she put her hand on her stomach and patted it. "I'm stuffed." She covers her mouth as she softly burps and groans. Gyutaro softly coughs as he is on his phone. "Well, now that y'all are satisfied, it's about time that we make this more, interesting so to speak."

Karaku takes the box of chocolate out of his pocket as he opens it to reveal three small golden wrappers. "Wow, fancy. Although, not worth 4,639.67¥." He takes one of the wrappers out and each gave it to (Y/N). The wrapper that had the sweat droplets emoji on it. (Y/N) puckers her lips as she softly blushes from the implication of what the emoji meant.

"Not a subtle presentation." Gyutaro deadpanned, leaning against (Y/N)'s shoulder peeking at the wrapper. He sighs as he says, "That's just get this over with, it's not like it isn't gonna do much anyway." (Y/N) unwraps the small chocolate to reveal its look, as there was a corner vertical line that could be broken apart. (Y/N) breaks it apart to where it was two triangles, (Y/N) gave Gyutaro the other half and they both started to chew.

The taste of it was surprisingly good. The texture of it felt smooth, and velvety, as if it was melting in their mouths as they chewed the chocolate. They both swallowed the chocolate, and (Y/N) makes a hum of satisfaction while Gyutaro asks, "So, how long does it take for it to kick in? 15, 20 minutes?"

"Actually, 30. It might take some time for the effects to kick in, so best to get comfortable." Karaku said as he stood up and cracked his back as telling the duo to follow him. They do so, where the more they walked, the more quieter it became. Karaku opens the door which leads to some sort of big closet, which is a little concerning to both of them.

"This where y'all will do your business once the effects start to kick in. Once they do, you both will have seven minutes to do what you want with each other. Simple enough?" They both went inside the closet as he rambled on, "I'll put a timer on my phone just in case you guys forgot about this game. Other than that, have fun." And walks away.

Both of them were sitting right beside each other as (Y/N) was looking around the closet. "Man, this closet is big. Is this even a closet?" (Y/N) questioned like a curious child discovering a new everyday item for the first time. "This is Michikatsu's place, he's a rich bastard so it probably is." And (Y/N) hums.

"Do you wanna watch something, while we wait for this shit to take over?" He said, holding his phone. (Y/N) scooted closer to him, and rested her head on her shoulder, which confused him as he asked, "Why are you so close?" A faint blush formed on both of their faces as she responded, "Just... trying to fit the mood. Seeing that we both ate chocolate and waiting for the effects, might as well make it feel more intimate, y'know?"

Gyutaro groaned at the thought, but sighed as he wrapped his arm around her and asked, "What do want to watch?" (Y/N) 's mouth was gapped open, but closed as she smirked and giggled a little, making Gyutaro's pale face turn into a red complexion. "Shut up..."

A couple minutes passed as they were watching a video, when suddenly, Gyutaro stopped the video and asked her, "Do you feel tense, or hot anywhere?" She looked up at him to see that the blush on his face reappeared, but at the same time, his eyes were half-lidded, and from his perspective, the deafening sound of his heart was beating in his ears.

He started to take his hoodie off, which reveals his black plain tee, and his scrawny, yet tone arms. "You okay, Gyutaro? You look really hot..." (Y/N) said, concerned at his behavior. Gyutaro looks down at her as he says something that gives her the clarification that he didn't hear her correctly. "And so do you..."

"U-Uh... Gyutaro...?" (Y/N) said. Gyutaro dropped his phone on the floor as he the towers over her, making her fall on her back, which results in her being pinned on the ground, with his arms being beside both sides of her head. "You're so hot..." he caresses her cheek with his thumb as he starts to lower his head down and closes his eyes.

For a second, (Y/N) was scared, scared that despite being in her 20s, her first kiss was about to be with her dormmate that she'd been with throughout the last four years.

Just for a second, though.

For another second that sense of fear, turned into a sense of euphoria as she closed her eyes and let the moment happen as she felt his chapped lips touching hers. Both of them were inexperienced at this, their teeth scraping against each other as they moaned with every disconnect.

Gyutaro stops as he looks down at her. Her face, was red. Her eyes, half-lidded, nearly closed. Breath, visible. Gyutaro swallowed his saliva as his lips were quivering as he asked her, "Was... that alright?" and she nodded. She then wraps her arms around him as she pulls him back down and utters, "More." And kisses him again.

Gyutaro graons as he wrapped his arms around his arms around her body, and laid down on their sides as they were getting more into it with the kissing. They hesitantly stuck their tongues into each other's mouths, and slowly started to twirl with one another. It felt so weird to both of them, but them being laced with aphrodisiacs, it felt like they could do anything without any trouble.

They briefly stopped as Gyutaro grabbed the zipper of (Y/N)'s jacket, and zipped it down to reveal her white shirt. He grabbed the bottom, and was about to pull them up, but he refrained himself as he exclaimed, "F-Fuck... I don't care what I say at this point, but can I see your tits? My mind is just aching to see what they look like and I can't seem to control myself..."

Sure, Gyutaro has taken drugs during his years in university, but not the type that would make him really horny, so this was like a new thing to him. (Y/N) nods as she softly spoke, "I-Its... okay. I'm excited about this too... so don't stop." He chuckles a little as he pulls he pulls her shirt up to reveal her solid black sports bra which had her erect nipples poking out of them.

"You freaky bitch..." Gyutaro uttered out. Something inside (Y/N)'s mind clicked. Him calling her a bitch felt degrading, but at the same time, it made her mind a little fuzzy. There wasn't enough time to ponder about it as Gyutaro pulled her sports bra up to reveal her breasts to her. "Fuck..." He elicited as he roughly groped them, making (Y/N) softly moan.

His hands were so rough against her, as he was squeezing them and was surprised at how soft they were in his hands. It felt like marshmallows to him, which was an amazing feeling to him. He licks his lips as he stopped fondling with one of them, and started to lick her nipple. (Y/N) moans at the tingling sensation of his tongue licking her, snd fondling her at the same time.

"G-Gyutaro..." She whined out his name, as he was licking her sensitive teat. (Y/N) made a loud gasp as she felt him gnawing his teeth on her, which made her whimper, and her leg tremble a little. He stopped as he cups the breasts in his hand, and started to suck on it, which made (Y/N) wrap her arms around his head.

Gyutaro groans as he wraps his arms around her waist and places her on his pelvis where she felt something poking her inner thigh, but she was distracted at the fact that Gyutaro was sucking her breast. She lays her head down on his head as she lets out a few whimpers here and there. The aphrodisiacs that were flowing through her made her feel so much more sensitive as not only him sucking her teat made her feel good, but the lips between her hips were slowly soaking her panties.

He stops as he exclaims, "Fuck... Why does this feel so good...? I want more... I need more..." He then pinned her down to the floor as he mounted on top of her, and started to grind on her. Both of their covered genitalia were touching each other, which made them both moan with each grind that he did.

The friction of their parts touching together with their clothes on, made them feel something that they couldn't describe. "G-Gyutaro... Y-Your—" he interrupted her as they both locked lips with each other. They both moaned into each other's mouths as he started to softly thrust his hips.

His shaft was twitching inside his pants, almost as if he was about to finish right then and there, but he had to control himself. If he came right here, he would feel like the biggest loser on the planet, knowing that he ejaculated in his pants all because of a few pumps. But at the same time, his doing this had no business for him feeling this good.

"I can feel it..." (Y/N) whimpered out. Her body felt so light, it was as if she was a feather flowing through the wind as Gyutaro continued to thrust his hips. "I wanna fuck you so badly... your body is so soft and slender, that I can't hold myself back anymore. Will you... let me give you the pleasure I want?"

Him speaking to her that way in such a demanding, but begging tone made her throb down there. Her entire body shivered from that speech he did, and she almost choked on her spit as she said, "Yes... Please, fuck me, Gyutaro." A smile crept up to his face she watched him sit up and watched him grip the rim of his sweatpants.

He was about to pull them down, but turned around to see Karaku open the door behind them. "Whoa, you two got busy. Had I forgotten about the timer, you two would've done it. C'mon, get up and get out of the closet." Gyutaro scooted back away from her as she sat up and rolled her sports bra and shirt back down. Their faces were so red from this moment, it didn't even feel like 7 minutes went by.

Gyutaro picked up his hoodie as he then grabbed (Y/N)'s wrist and started to speed walk. "Gyutaro, w-what are you—" "We're going back to my dorm. This chocolate is making me feel something I've never felt before, and I refused to get blue-balled because of it." He said as he looked down at his stiff erection bulging out. Thankfully, he was wearing sweatpants, thus making it less visible. Fuck... and this is just gonna get in the way if I don't do something about it.

There were people having turns playing Mortal Kombat, this time it was a white haired tall man up against Kyojuro as they were playing Shirai Ryu Takeda, and Outlaw Erron Black. Urogi noticed that Gyutaro and (Y/N) were in a hurry, so he asked them, "Hey, did you two have fun?"

They both nodded as (Y/N) stammered, "I-It was a good party, but we gotta go back to our dorm." Urogi tilted his head like a curious dog as he responded, "But you two just got here. At least play a few games before you guys just leave us."

"You s-see, we wish we could, but our stomachs don't feel right and it would suck if we threw up while we were having fun." (Y/N) said as Gyutaro continued, "Yeah, so bye. Thank you for the fun time you gave us." And continued to speedwalk. "But the bathroom is... right there. Oh well, their loss. We're starting to bet money on this game now." He said as he was counting the amount of yen in his hands.

(Y/N) and Gyutaro both entered the car and we're fumbling to put their seatbelt on, once they did, Gyutaro put the keys in the ignition and twisted it as he put the car into reverse, backed away from one of the cars in front of them, and does a u-turn as he drives the street of the cul-de-sac.

Both of their breaths were trembling as (Y/N) was constantly rubbing her thighs together, and Gyutaro had a firm grip on the steering wheel. Both of them didn't say anything as they tried to maintain their composure so they didn't get into an accident.

My body feels like it's on fire... how can a piece of chocolate that small, affect us like this...? (Y/N) thought as she laid her head down on the dash and her leg was bouncing. Gyutaro on the other hand, was heavily striving. His hands were so firmly gripped on the wheel, that his veins started to pop out on his hands, and forearms.

Not only that, but he was so stiff down there. Stiff, and hard as a 2x4. He wanted to rip his own clothes off so he could feel cool and relieve himself. But, he only lived three minutes away from his dorm, he could get through this painful erection that he had, hopefully.

(Y/N) however, could not. She's never felt this level of lust of her life. It was almost scary to her from how needy she was to have some sort of stimulation, both to the brain, and her body. She sat back up and glanced at Gyutaro to see that he was still looking at the street he was driving in, and she took the opportunity to take her hand under her pants, and move her fingers up and down.

She puts her head on the dash, and her breath was trembling, as she felt the soaking sensation of her panties being drenched from her discharge. She mewled as her eyes were clenched closed as her fingers were moving on their own down there. This feels... so good... She balls her first that was above her head as she was moving her fingers up and down."I know, but just wait a few more seconds, alright? Once we make it to my dorm, I'm gonna fuck the shit out of you." He said, as he grabbed and squeezed her breast.

She bit her lip to refrain a moan to come out of her mouth when he touched her, its almost a surprise when he didn't bother to look what she was doing when he said that to her. It was like he tried to make her more horny than before, in which he did, but not on purpose. "O-Okay, Gyutaro..." she uttered out while in the process of touching herself.

They both arrived on the residental hall, and Gyutaro hastily unbuckled his seatbelt and turned the car off as he opens the car door. "Get out of the car. I'm gonna make sure you—" he looks to his left to see that (Y/N)'s head was arched back from the seat as as her legs were spread open while she was touching her wet and creamy slit down there.

His eyes were bulging out of his skull as he closed the door, trotted to the other side, opened it, unbuckled her seatbelt, and picked her up with no effort. Despite having a scrawny build, he was strong enough to pick her up with ease. They both kissed as Gyutaro was walking up the small concrete stairs to the main entrance of the door.

"I'm gonna fucking ruin you." He snarled, which made her shiver a little. He puts her down, but she grabs his hand, and makes him fondle her. "Are you trying to make me more horny than I already am? I'm fucking stiff as a rock and yet you're making me touch you."

"Is it working?"

He unlocks the door, pulls her into the room, pushes her into his bed, and mounts on top of her. They looked into each other's eyes, both of their faces had a blood-red color on their top half, and their ears as they were both slightly sweaty. "Show me your fingers. The ones where you were touching yourself when I was driving." He demanded her as she pulled her hand out of her pants as she revealed her wet, creamed covered fingers.

"Disgusting... You're such a slut, you know that right?" He said, which made her feel a little flustered, but the good kind, of course. "N-No, I'm not... it's the c-chocolate..." she said, avoiding eye contact with him. He chuckled as he wrapped his hand around her waist, opened his mouth, and licked her fingers that were covered in her discharge.

He closed his eyes as he was licking them, some of it even got down to the webbing, and he licked there as well. (Y/N)'s face turned red as a tomato as she watched him lick her fingers so sensually. She didn't think he would be capable of doing something so erotic like this.

Once he finished, he sat up, and scooted back as she started to untie her shoes and dropped them on the floor. He grabbed the rim of her pants, and pulled them down to reveal her panties that were completely soaked. So much so, that it was transparent and he could see her slit, camel toe and and her erect clit. "Wow... You're so wet..." he started to rub his palm on it, which made her flinch a little. "And it's squishy too... did me grinding my dick on you excite you that much? Or did me groping you amplify that?" He croaked out, his voice sounding raspy, which made her body shiver yet again.

"I-I... Um... it was... both of them." She mutters out, which he didn't hear so he asks her, "What was that? I couldn't hear you. Try moaning it out for me." He moved his fingers up and down. She stifled a moan she blurted out, "Both. I-It was both." He smiles as he gets an answer from her, and he stops as he unties his shoes, takes them off, and takes off his sweatpants.

He took off (Y/N)'s pants, and threw them somewhere on the floor as he was now on his knees, and his boxers had a huge tent poking out. He wraps his arms around her legs, and started to grind his his hips up and down against her wet panties. They both started to moan due to the friction of their undergarments touching against each other, both of them extremely sensitive from the pleasure that was flowing throughout their bodies.

"So fucking good..." he uttered as he felt himself twitching. His boxers were slowly becoming drenched as not only that (Y/N)'s juices were dampening them, but so was his precum that was seeping through. It smelled so musky, but in the sense that made (Y/N) dizzy with lust. Her head felt fuzzy for a second as she said, "G-Gyutaro..."

He stops as he looks at her and says, "What? You wanna do it now? Not that I'm complaining." She softly shook her head as she said something that she would never say if she was sober. "No... I... wanna... I wanna suck your c-cock."

Her saying that activated something inside him, his shaft was frantically twitching as he didn't ask any more questions, and pulled them off. For a man who looked like he had little to no muscle mass, he was packing quite the package down there.

Although there was a bit of messy hair down there, but that didn't matter to (Y/N). He then sat down and said, "Come here." Which she complied as she was slowly crawling up to her. She wrapped her hand around it, and it felt so hot. It was like her hand was melting due to how warm it felt in her hand. She then lowered her head down as she caught a whiff of its arousing musk surrounding it, making her head go blank for a quick second before she snapped back to reality.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" He questioned. (Y/N) swallowed the spit that was in her mouth as she started to give kitty licks on the tip of it. It tasted a little salty, but it didn't bother her in the slightest. Gyutaro softly grunted as she watched her do this, and so he stroked her hair as he gave her a little praise, "There you go, that's a good girl." And softly slaps her.

She moaned from the slap, which is something she never thought she would be into, but she was becoming corrupted by the drug in her body, so her principles were being bent as time went on. She started to kiss the tip, and soon, started to twirl her tongue around it. His breath hitched and he elicited a moan as he closed his eyes and uttered, "F-Fuck..."

His hips then coiled as he felt her warm lips wrap around him, and she started bobbing her head up and down. His neck arched back as he lets out a shaky exhale as he gripped his bed sheets as she was only sucking the tip, but it felt like he was gonna finish at any moment.

He tastes so good... my mind is just going black just from sucking him off. I feel like such a whore doing this, I've never done this before, and yet I want more from him... she thought as she closed her eyes and put her hands on his inner thighs as she was pleasing him.

He was about to grab his phone and record this, but then he remembered that he put his phone in one of his pockets in his pants, so all he could do was just watch her as she swallowed his length. Give or take, she was heavily inexperienced at this, but that didn't mean she was doing a good job of making him feel good. A pleasurable blowjob is enough to negate all the negatives of oral pleasure.

Gyutaro's face started to look drunk-like. One of his eyes was closed while the other was struggling to stay open. His face looked a bit sweaty as he was covering the bottom half of his face with his fist. (Y/N) started to become sloppy as her saliva started to run down his shaft, and her head started to bob faster. Some of her spit was going down her chin due to how much effort she was putting into pleasing him.

She would slurp the saliva she had produced as he started to deepthroat him. His warm, thick length filled her mouth, making her jaw hurt as she was making him feel good. "Dosh it phel gud, Yutaro?" She said, with her mouth full. "Y-Yeah... It feels really good... Too good..." he then grips her head and starts to thrust his hips into her mouth. (Y/N) slightly whimpered as it felt like his tip was hitting the back of her throat.

There is a plus in this situation however, she didn't have a gag reflex. Meaning that he could be aggressive with her and not worry about her throwing up. Her throat might take some time to heal though, but a minor drawback at the end of the day. Or in this term, night.

Her hands slid off his thighs as she felt her body go limp, her mind slowly going blank as he was skullfucking her. His hair down there was being moisturized from the spit that was leaking down his shaft, and the sound of her slurping on him was like white noise to his ears.

His breath starts to get heavy as he huskily utters out, "Fuck, I-I... ngh..." (Y/N) felt his shaft twitching inside her mouth, nearing his arrival. He arched his head back as his breath was trembling he scrunched his eyes closed, and clenched his teeth as his moans were audible enough for (Y/N) to hear them.

"F-Fucking... gonna..." his thrusts were faster as his shaft started to twitch more and more. He then moved his hips back, and left her mouth with a faint pop elicited from her lips as he wrapped his hand around him as he frantically stroked it. He grips her hair as he commands her to, "Open your mouth."

She opens her mouth, and stuck her tongue out as he breathlessly vociferated, "Just like that. Just... like..." he couldn't finish his sentence as he curled his toes as he was getting closer and closer. (Y/N) closed her eyes as she waited for him to release his spunk onto her face. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, O-OH... f-fuck..." he huskily exclaimed as his muscles constricted and shot out his white, sticky ropes all over her face.

(Y/N) flinched as she felt his warm load sticking to her face, each one feeling thicker than the last. It got everywhere on her, from her chin, her cheeks, her forehead, the bridge of her nose, essentially her entire face. Luckily it didn't get in her hair or eyes, otherwise, there would be problems between them. But some of it did get into her mouth, the slimy, sticky texture of it felt so weird in her mouth, but she had no choice but to swallow it, feeling his seed going down her throat.

It's so... salty... and bitter... she thought as she shivered a little from the taste. "F-Fuck..." Gyutaro wheezed out as he bent his head back and looked at the ceiling. He laughed as he said, "You... Are one freaky ass girl, y'know that?" His breathing was calming down as his heart was slowing down. Despite all that, he was still erect and it was aching for more.

(Y/N) didn't say anything, but had a blush on her face as she got out of his bed and walked to the bathroom to clean her face. His cum dripped down on her hand as she grabbed a roll of toilet paper, and cleaned herself off. As she was doing this, she felt his arms wrap around her waist, and hotdogged his shaft in between her cheeks.

He kissed the back of his neck as he softly croaked, "How did my cum taste? Was it salty to you? I saw the way you swallowed it without any hesitation." The blush on her face started to get redder as he started to grind his shaft on her making her whimper a little. "C'mon, admit that you liked it. There's no point in denying it." His humping started to get more aggressive, enough to make (Y/N) budge with every thrust.

"It... did taste salty, and bitter. But, I couldn't help but swallow it..." she admitted with a hint of shame in her voice as she wiped her chin that was covered in his cum and her spit. She threw the pieces of toilet paper in the small trash can as she felt him pull her panties down, and started to slide his rod on her lips.

Her arms started to tremble as she bent down on the sink as she started to feel weak from him rubbing his shaft against her. "You're so wet down there, even after you sucked me off. Guess I should repay the favor, huh?" He then picked her up, and walked back to his bed as he dropped her face first into the comforter, and pulled her back so she was standing.

He puts his fingers down there, making (Y/N) mewl as her legs begin to shake while she is on her toes. "But, before I do, I want to hear you say it. Say you want me to fuck you, and I'll give it to you." He said that with a wanton smile on his face. He was teasing her as he was moving his fingers around her lips. Her mouth trembled as she elicited a quivering exhale as she whined out, "P-Please... F-Fuck me..."

The smile on his face got a little bigger as he grabbed his rod, and started to move it on her sensitive cunt. "What was that? I couldn't hear you loud enough." He bit the tip of her ear as she said it a little more clearly for him to hear as she iterated, "Please, fuck me, Gyutaro."

A moan escaped her lips as she felt his tip going slowly inside her, and was slowly moving in and out of her. "Repeat that one more time for me." He said as he wrapped his hand around her neck, and tightly gripped it.

Tears of depravity rolled out of her eyes as she vociferated, "P-Please fuck me, Gyutaro! S-Stick fat cock inside me as you rail me, and make me drunk for you! I want to—" Gyutaro kissed her lips as he wasted no time, and propelled his hips into her.

Her eyes closed as she felt her body become limp as Gyutaro let go of her neck, and she plopped face-first into the comforter, slowly becoming a moaning mess. "Th-Thank you, Gyutaro... thank y-you..." she reverberated with each thrust that was making her voice sound bouncy. "Anything for a slut like you." And he smacks her ass.

She educed a yelp from her lips as she groaned from the small stinging sensation of his print on her left cheek as he was fucking her with his long, thick, meaty cock. Sweat began to develop on his forehead, as wiped the sweat off of his head, while having strands of hair stuck to his forehead as he started to take his shirt off, he threw the shirt on the floor as he was fully naked, and was going all out.

How is she so wet, and yet so tight? It's like she wants me to cum as fast as possible from this combo. But that ain't gonna happen, not until I feel satisfied with her. He reckoned as his hips were moving like a piston, having a firm grip on both sides of her waist. (Y/N) was moaning and groaning from every thrust that she received as her wet, creamy, sticky cunt was being pounded by him.

"G-Gyutaro...~" she mewled out his name as her legs began to shake. He was gripping his bedsheets as all she could do at the moment was take him. The sound that her slit was making was do lewd, someone might've thought that they were making pasta. She yelped as she felt him smack her ass yet again. "You like that, huh? You like when I smack your fat ass and watch it make waves when my hips hit yours?" And he smacks it a third time.

She slowly nods at him as she stutters out, "Y-Yes... My body feels so hot that it feels like I-I'm melting... snd your cock is the only thing I can feel right now. And you smacking my ass, it feels like a shock flowed through me, i-it stings, but it feels so good...~" she plopped her face into the comforter as her moans were muffled, but still audible.

"You're such a fucking whore. And I love it." He then slides out, making (Y/N) almost collapse on her feet when he turns her body around, and picked her feet up so she could be laying down on the bed. He mounted on top of her as he grabbed her shirt and pulled it up for her to take off.

He threw the shirt, and pointed at her sports bra and commanded her, "Take them off." (Y/N) sits up, but straight enough to make a 90° angle, but enough for her to grab the rim of her sports bra. She slowly pulled them up as her breasts were getting caught in her bra, until Gyutaro witnessed them drop and softly bounce once she took it off.

She dropped her bra, and she was fully naked. both of them, their hearts beating out of their chests, their body temperature going through the roof, the lack of air in their lungs as they were making eye contact with each other. (Y/N) laid back down, and spread her legs open as she extended her arms to him, and said, in a rather hush, venereal tone, "Please, fuck me, and make me scream, Gyutaro."

Something snapped inside of Gyutaro when she said that to him. It was like he lost all of his senses of control, as he wrapped his hand around her neck, and reentered inside her and moved his hips so fast and rough, that the bed was plangently creaking.

A crooked smile formed on his face as he stated, "You wanted this, didn't you? All those years of tension with us being together finally caught up to you. Who knew, that all it t-took, ngh... was an edible for you to let it out..."

She hated it admit it if she was sober, but he was right. It took one edible for her to realize her true intentions to him. She just didn't expect how much has been holding back throughout these semesters. A single tear formed in her eyes as she made eye contact with his eyes and said, with her voice sounding raspy, "I-I... Love you."

Love you...? Gyutaro repeated in his mind. She, loved him? Despite him giving no time to breathe to please himself after all the bullshit he had to withstand with her? She was either too cock-drunk, or this were her true feeling towards him, despite her still being on the effects of the aphrodisiacs.

He wasn't sure how to respond, as he slapped her again, albeit with a sense of weakness behind it, and wrapped both of his hands on her neck. Her eyes closed as she makes smile, and wrapped both of her hands on his wrists. "M-Make me cum... p-please..."

Gyutaro felt conflicted choking her now, now that she said that she loved him, so to distracted himself from it, he lowers his head, and kissed her. Gyutaro groans while (Y/N) puled as both of their tongues were dancing with each other. Their saliva going down their chin as their heads were tilted to make the kiss deeper. The way his tongue was dominating hers, it was like he was showing her who was in charge here.

But, she wasn't complaining.

They both stopped kissing, their saliva stretching between each other as (Y/N) slowly opened her eyes and repeated the words, "I l-love you..." Gyutaro's face turned burgundy when she said that to her the second time, and yet it felt more sentimental than the first one. Maybe it was because they both kissed? Maybe it was because she was letting him choke her? So many questions, for so little time.

Gyutaro let's go of (Y/N)'s neck, showing a faint imprint, and depressed himself to (Y/N)'s breasts, and started to suck on them. He wrapped his arms around (Y/N)'s body, his hands felt so bony against her skin, but it felt in some way reassuring to her. "I-I... Wuv phyu tu..."

(Y/N) smiles as she wrapped her arms and legs around him as she says, "T-Thank you..." tears streaking down on her face. The continuous sound of the bed creaking, and their cream-covered genitalia stroking each other filled the dorm, as (Y/N)'s breath shuddered like she was on ecstasy, as her stomach started to form a knot as her body felt tingly.

"G-Gyutaro, I feel weird..." she said as her breathing started to become unstable, and she was struggling to stifle a few moans. "Gyutaro... Gyutaro..." she repeated his name in a high pitch tone as she curled her toes and felt the knot snap inside her stomach as she squirted her cunt-juice all over his pelvis and cock, all while he was continuously thrusting his hips, making her feel maximum stimulation.

She dug her nails into his back and scratched him, making his back draw blood as her hands started to go down. He bit her nipple, which caused her to arch her back and neck while eliciting a soundless scream and her brain became static.

He stops as he rose back up and says, "You're so... fucking... sexy." He lays his head on her shoulder, and he lets out a few moans in her ear. (Y/N) moans as she felt his teeth scrape her neck, and he started to lick it. Her entire body felt numb at this point, it was like she was paralyzed and all she could feel was his rod rearranging her insides.

His breathing began to sound heavy as he felt himself constantly twitching. His body felt tingly as he bit his lip and lets out a stifled groan as he started to move faster and faster. "Do it... do it..." she begged. Gyutaro clenched his eyes closed as he bit her neck, making her elicit a shaky groan as he made a few final thrusts, before he slipped out and his spunk spewed out. He moans as he felt his shaft throbbing and shooting out his seed onto (Y/N)'s skin, each throb being a little bit more painful than the last.

Once he finished, his entire body was shaking, and his arms were striving to help him hover above (Y/N). They both looked down to see the mess they both made from their fluids. "Fuck..." They both looked back at each other and stared for a few seconds before Gyutaro cupped her cheek, narrowed the distance between each other, and kissed. (Y/N) whimpered, while Gyutaro lets out a shaky groan as they pecked each other's lips and twirled their tongues together.

They stopped, and Gyutaro crawled out of bed as he walked to the bathroom. (Y/N) couldn't do anything but look up at the ceiling as she was so exhausted from getting fucked. But, she loved it. She has never felt anything like what just happened before. If anything, if she was sober, she might've equally as enjoyed it if she wasn't drugged. He came back with a roll of toilet paper and started to tear it up to clean her stomach and her part off.

It didn't feel much when he cleaned her stomach, but she felt a sharp pain when she felt the piece of paper rub her abused slit. She jolted and groaned as Gyutaro says, "S-Sorry. I'll try to be less rough." And he started to clean her more gently.

Her legs flinched with every stroke of the toilet paper, but it wasn't so painful as his intital swipes. She softly groaned with every swipe, her breath trembling as she let him clean her. Once he finished, he grabs the bundle of used toilet paper, and threw him in the trash can.

Walks back to his bed, grabbed the comforter, and lays down next her. Gyutaro wraps his arms around her, as he kissed her forehead, and said, "I love you..." before succumbing to his tiredness and went to sleep.

(Y/N) smiles as she kissed his lips and says, "I love you, too..." and laid her head on his chest.

...

Dawn was arriving, as Gyutaro was the first to wake up, and was met with an aching headache. He was about to sit up, but something was weighing him down. He looks under the cover to see a sleeping, naked (Y/N) laying on his chest, and he softly pulled the covers back down as he looks at the ceiling and thought, Holy shit... so what happened last night wasn't a drug trip... I really fucked her...

He looks to his right to see some sort of sticky note on his phone on the nightstand. He removes the sticky note and read in his head,

Make sure you don't leave your stuff in a random strangers closet.

- U.

And at the bottom left shows a small doodle of Urogi with his tongue sticking out and and x across his face. Gyutaro clickd his tongue as he placed the sticky note back on the nightstand as he gets on his phone. He then heard the sound of (Y/N) groaning awake as he lifted up the covers and see (Y/N) slowly opening her eyes.

She looks up and froze when they both made eye contact with each other. "G-Good morning." (Y/N) stammered. "M-Morning." They both continued to stare at each other for what felt like a prolonged time, until she sat up, with her breasts on full display, and he couldn't help but stare at them until (Y/N) spoke.

"Do you... recall about what we did last night?" Gyutaro ponders at that night and the first thing that popped up in his head was him skullfucking her, making his face more red. "Yes. Do you?" (Y/N) also pondered at that night as the first thing she recalled was him smacking her behind as he was thrusting her.

She blushed hard as well as she responded, "Yes... I do." She puts her hand together, avoiding eye contact with him. He sat up and pecked her forehead as he asked, "Did you enjoy it?"

She looked up at him to seeing his eyes looking genuine, like he wanted to know the definitive answer of whether she liked it or not. She pecked his lips as she responded with a, "Yes."

Gyutaro smirks as he wrapped his arms around her, and gave her a kiss, lasting for five seconds before they disconnected. "Your breath stinks." (Y/N) deadpanned as Gyutaro couldn't help but laugh at that comment. But, he clapped back as he responded, "And you smell."

(Y/N) pouted as she sat on the edge of the bed, and was about to stand up, but collasped as her legs felt so weak. Gyutaro laughs as she says, "It's not funny. Help me get to the shower."

Well, seeing that were both naked... why not? Gyutaro thought as he removed the covers off his bed, and got out as he crouched down and put her arm around his neck. They both started to walk to the shower, and Gyutaro, surpisingly being a gentleman, turns the shower on.

He went back to get their towels as (Y/N) was leaning back on the wall. Although it was nice of him to do this, her bottom half still hurted like hell. Specifically, her pussy. He was so rough with her, it's honestly a miracle that the bed didn't even break.

Luckily it didn't take long for him to recover the towels as he puts them on the sink. He sticks his hand out to see how warm or cold the water was, and came to find out that it was the perfect temperature. He opens the curtans and grabs (Y/N)'s wrist as he softly pulled her to the shower.

Once she got in first, he followed suit. The both stood together as they were being drenched in the warm water. Gyutaro lowered his head down and kissed her neck as he repeated, "I love you... I love you so much." (Y/N) giggled as she pets his hair and says, "I love you, too." And they both started to clean each other.

A couple minutes go by, and Gyutaro twists the handle down as the shower turns off. (Y/N) opens the curtains and grabbed both of their towels as they began to dry off. They both dried off their hair, which made (Y/N) vulnerable as she turned around while doing it in the process. He looks down to see her cake open to him, and he couldn't help but give it a hard slap, letting his intrusive thoughts win.

(Y/N) yelped as she looked back at him to see a smile on his face that read, "Yeah I smacked your ass, whatcha gonna do about it?" (Y/N) turned her whole body around as she looked at him and said, "Now you turn around." He chuckles as he obeys her, and looks back at her. She raised her hand up, and smacked it, making Gyutaro laugh as he says, "Didn't feel a thing."

She pouts as he turns back around and kisses her forehead. "But, if it makes you feel any better, I'll admit that it stung a little." And scruffed her hair. She smacked his ass again, and blurted, "Okay, that one didn't even hurt."

Once they finished drying themselves off and brushing their teeth, they both wore their undergarments as Gyutaro wore a pair of boxers, and (Y/N) put on panites and a shirt. Gyutaro yawned again and said, "You wanna take a nap? It's Sunday, so we don't have to do anything for the day." And scratched his head. "I..." She yawned as well, stretching her arms, "...don't need to sleep again."

He scoffs as he responded, "Yeah, sure you don't." He then got under (Y/N)'s bed as he prepped the pillow and laid down. "If you change your mind, you know what to do." He said as he pulled his closed his eyes.

(Y/N) stood there for a couple of seconds before she lets out a sigh of defeat and walked up to her bed as she got under the covers and laid next to him. A smirk crept up to his face as he said, "I knew you couldn't resist." Which made (Y/N) blush as she retorted back, "Shut up."

He chuckles before he wraps his hand around her, and went back to sleep. (Y/N) drops the pout on her face as she made a smirk before she laid her head on his chest, and went back to sleep.

04-25-24 - I feel like the last part wasn't really needed, but I'll leave that up to y'all. Hope you guys enjoyed this, had to write something good for arguably the most underrated character in the show.

Until next time,

✌️👋❤️

Take care.

And to any of you who are cruious about that Scorpion combo that Sekido did to Karaku (probably not a lot), here.

T/CW: video game gore:

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